Category: English

Late one night, I caught my husband French kissing a wealthy heiress from the city’s elite circle. My husband looked panicked. The Heiress looked calm. I walked up and greeted them enthusiastically: “Bro, Sister-in-law, what a coincidence!” The next day, I received a Green Card and a 2,000-square-foot apartment in Manhattan. 1 My husband is incredibly handsome. We were college sweethearts, got married right after graduation, and worked together while squeezing into a tiny apartment in New York. I loved my husband deeply. Looking at his face, no matter how broke we were, I had no complaints. I only hated myself for not knowing how to make big money to give him the good life. I worked myself to the bone. In this economic downturn, just not getting laid off was a blessing. I was a useless woman. My husband and I scrimped and saved, wanting to buy a house. Owning a home is the ultimate dream. But real estate prices in New York are astronomical. Our meager savings were destined to be hopeless. 2 Recently, I noticed my husband getting even more handsome. Because I was poor, I couldn’t distinguish luxury brands. But I knew his clothes and shoes looked amazing and fit him perfectly. His skin was better too. Almost like when we were freshmen in college. My husband had a great personality, very gentle, but fierce and passionate in bed. He was simply the perfect specimen of a man. Seeing him become so good-looking recently, I felt this was what a rose should look like. 3 My boss is a wealthy heir in the city’s business circle. My boss’s sister is “The Heiress”—Victoria. I was just one of thousands of employees in their company. But one day, The Heiress came specifically to see me and said, “Oh, so you’re Nora.” The perfume on The Heiress smelled exactly like the scent on my husband. The necklace The Heiress wore matched the one my husband had recently started wearing—a couple’s set. On the weekend, I said I was going shopping, then staked out our apartment building. Soon, I saw The Heiress driving her Bentley downstairs. The shabby neighborhood environment didn’t match her luxury car at all. My husband got into the Bentley. I cried until I was a mess. 4 I wasn’t angry. I only felt sadness and despair. It was all my fault. I was useless, so my husband was seduced by the glittering world outside. I knew I could make a scene. I could accuse him of betraying me. Betraying my youth. But what use would that be? My husband is a kind man. He is so handsome. He accompanied me through my most beautiful years. Waking up every day to that face, sleeping next to such perfection, I felt so happy. What right did I have to resent him? Moreover, because he was so good, I simply couldn’t bear to blame him. True love forgives everything and only blames oneself. Love is often feeling indebted. I should proactively set him free. A handsome man like him would fly out of my poor nest sooner or later. Like a piece of fine jade, he wouldn’t stay in a straw hut for long. It was fate. 5 But I still couldn’t bear to let go. What if The Heiress got tired of playing with him and abandoned him? If I divorced him, wouldn’t he be lonely? Feeling abandoned by the whole world? So I dragged it out, pretending to know nothing. But one night, I worked overtime until 9 PM. When I got home, right downstairs, I saw my husband and The Heiress tongue-kissing. I didn’t react for a moment. Stunned on the spot. My heart still hurt. My husband, I was destined not to keep you. He saw me too. His eyes were red, looking at me in shock. I remembered I forgot to tell him I was working late. He thought I was already home. Sigh. Didn’t miss it. Sad. The Heiress wasn’t panicked at all. Truly worthy of her status; calm even if the sky collapsed. We are both women; I need to learn from her. 6 I stepped forward and shouted enthusiastically, “Bro! Sister-in-law! You guys are out for a walk too?” The Heiress looked at me in shock. “What did you call him?” I wiped my tears and said with utmost sincerity, “Sister-in-law, this is my big brother.” The Heiress burst out laughing, laughing until tears came out. In this awkward battlefield, she could be so relaxed. Truly enviable. My husband looked at me with tragic eyes. He looked like he was being forced. The Heiress said, “You are truly a wonderful person.” I shook my head and quickly said, “Sister-in-law, I am a poor person.” The Heiress kissed my husband. She was bright and moving. My husband was tall and handsome, truly pleasing to the eye. He was being kissed by someone else now. I felt a faint sense of pride. This is the husband I chose. Sure enough, very popular. The Heiress drove away. Even her car exhaust smelled of money. 7 After returning home, my husband said to me with red eyes, “I’m sorry, Nora. I was vain. I couldn’t resist the temptation of the material world.” Seeing him beat himself up like this, my heart ached. Truly loving someone means planning for their long-term future. I held his hand. His fingers were fair and slender, very warm. I always liked holding hands with him. My husband is perfect. I couldn’t even hate him. We sat on the sofa. I apologized to him, “The one who should say sorry is me. I didn’t make enough money to give you a good life. Marrying me made you suffer.” He shook his head. “I’m useless. I wasn’t ambitious. I said I was preparing for exams but played games every day. I didn’t give you a good life.” “You are so handsome. If you didn’t marry a poor woman like me, why would you need to prepare for exams? It’s because I’m useless.” We blamed ourselves for 10 minutes. I felt if we continued, it would never end. So I took the initiative. “Husband, we need to talk.” 8 When we were young, we thought having love meant having the world. Now we had love, but lived so hard. My worldview had changed. I said to him, “Husband, since The Heiress likes you, just date her properly. She is beautiful. I can see she loves you very much. I am very relieved you are with her.” He shook his head. “The one I truly love is you. She… she… she spent a lot of money on me. Every time I encountered difficulties, she helped me solve them… I just couldn’t withstand the temptation…” He detailed how his father lost $50,000 gambling, and The Heiress gave him money to pay off the debt. His mother’s surgery was also paid for with money lent by her. The Heiress is really kind, never forcing him, just giving blindly. Before, he told me about his parents. I felt the sky was falling then. Not only could I not help, but I also had negative emotions, feeling his parents were a burden. My husband is a kind person who considers others. Our savings were only $36,000. Not only was it a drop in the bucket, but I would be very sad if he gave it to his parents. He didn’t touch that money. After that, I acted like an ostrich, pretending nothing happened. I am truly a cowardly woman. But not long after, he happily told me his family matters were resolved. Unexpectedly, it was The Heiress who helped him. Compared to her, the difference was stark. I was very ashamed. “No need to explain, I understand. I hope you live a good life. Since she can make your life easier, just be with her. I love you, I hope you live well.” He looked at me blankly. My heart ached to death seeing him. I sat on his lap. “Let’s go divorce tomorrow. If she doesn’t want you anymore, you come back to me, we’ll remarry.” “Can we be together one last time tonight?” Husband: …

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Ten years into my marriage, I had gotten used to being alone. I went to the hospital alone. I went to the movies and ate dinner alone. Even this afternoon, when I was rear-ended, I handled it alone. Staring at the birthday cake on the table, I called him. He declined the call. A text from Tom popped up. Two words: Working late. I lit the single candle, then blew it out. My phone screen lit up with a notification for a viral post. [From the driver’s expression, guess if the person in the passenger seat is his girlfriend or his wife.] The top comment read, “Definitely a girlfriend. If my wife was in the car, my face would be planted on the steering wheel by now.” I stared at the familiar profile in the photo, at the good luck charm hanging from the rearview mirror, and I didn’t move for a very long time. At two in the morning, the front door opened. He walked in and placed a jewelry box on the coffee table. “Happy birthday.” I looked at him, my voice quiet. “Is she pretty?” 1 My phone screen was still lit up, displaying the post. “Lucy is just the new intern,” Tom explained. “Don’t overthink it.” I stood up, my voice stubbornly repeating the question. “Is she pretty?” He frowned. “She’s… cute.” I closed my eyes. A sharp pain pierced my chest, and a tear slid down my cheek. He pulled me into his arms, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Alright, still the jealous type, huh?” A strange perfume, not mine, filled my senses, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I pushed him away. His brow furrowed, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “I already explained. Believe it or not, that’s up to you.” It was the same as always. He didn’t even have the patience for a real conversation. The bedroom door slammed shut. On the floor, the diamond necklace he’d brought home glittered under the lamp light. I’d seen Lucy’s social media post from earlier tonight. She was showing off an identical one. Even my birthday gift was just a lazy, thoughtless afterthought. That night, I scrolled through every single one of Lucy’s posts. And I found Tom’s private account. October 8th. Lucy posted that she was craving chocolate cake. Tom had commented: Got you one. Be there in a bit. November 3rd. Lucy posted about wanting to go on a trip. Tom’s comment: Tickets are booked. We leave tomorrow. … There were so many. Too many to count. All those little moments of warmth I thought were for me—the cake, the boba tea, the new handbag—they were all just leftovers, scraps he brought home for me after spoiling her. We had so many of the same things. It was a mirror image of a life I didn’t know he was living. Tears blurred my vision. I had always told myself this was just a normal phase of marriage. The lull after the storm. The comfortable silence that replaces endless conversation. But the first sign of fading love is the death of the desire to share. Sunlight streamed through the window, but I felt no warmth at all. Tom emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a sharp suit. He saw me, still on the couch, and sighed. “What do you want from me? Should I have her come over and explain it to you herself?” I stood up. “No, that won’t be necessary.” He started to speak, but his phone rang. As he pulled it out, I caught a glimpse of the caller ID. Moonbeam. His entire demeanor softened as he answered. “Don’t cry. I know about the proposal. It’s okay if you made a mistake, I’ll take care of it.” His voice was gentle, patient. “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll come get you. I’ll even buy you your favorite dumplings.” He hung up and met my gaze. “I’ll be home early tonight to have dinner with you.” The apartment fell silent again. Just like our marriage. You could drop a stone in it and it wouldn’t even make a ripple. Before we were married, his name for me in his phone was My Wife. Pinned to the top of his contacts. A special alert for all my calls and texts. Then, one day, he unpinned it. Said he was worried about losing his phone and getting scammed. My contact name changed from My Wife to just… Hannah. He would move mountains for his Moonbeam, but he couldn’t be bothered to give me a second glance, a few extra words. The auto shop called. My car was ready. I went to the bathroom and stared at the haggard woman in the mirror. Her eyes were dull, the fine lines around them more pronounced. This marriage was a hand wrapped around my throat, slowly squeezing the life out of me. At the dealership, while I was signing the paperwork, I overheard two young women talking. “This couple came in yesterday, and the guy was incredible. Bought two cars, just like that.” “I’m so jealous. He was like, ‘If you like them both, just get them both.’” I kept signing, but their next words made my hand freeze. “The girl’s name was Lucy. She’s a pretty popular blogger, actually.” “Yeah, her feed is all lovey-dovey posts lately. I think her boyfriend’s last name is Bennett.” 2 Driving home, a bitter taste filled my mouth, spreading through my entire body until even breathing hurt. I was fifteen when I met Tom. We married at twenty-five. I’m thirty-five now. We started with nothing and built a comfortable life. But somewhere along the way, he became a stranger. I pulled into a parking spot, got out, and walked into a nearby park. I sat on a bench, watching a young couple laughing and playing in the distance. Youth is a beautiful thing, I thought. To be able to love so freely, so openly. My phone rang. It was Tom. “The insurance company called me about renewing the policy,” he said. “They also mentioned you were in an accident yesterday?” A cool breeze blew past, and for a moment, my mind felt completely clear. “Yes.” His voice was tinged with concern. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I looked away from the couple. “I could handle it myself.” Silence. Then, the dial tone. There was a time when I thought he was my rock. No matter what happened, he was the first person I would call. Once, during a thunderstorm, the power went out. I was terrified and called him while he was on a business trip. “Hannah, how old are you?” he’d snapped. “Can’t you handle it yourself? It’s so annoying having to deal with your problems all the time.” After that, I stopped calling him. When I was hospitalized with acute gastritis, I was alone. When my mother passed away, I handled the funeral arrangements alone. Even… even that thing at the beginning of the year. I never told him about that either. As dusk fell, I went home, ordered some spicy noodle soup, and lay down on the couch. The door opened. I glanced at the clock. It was only eight. For the last two years, Tom had never come home before nine. Once, we went three entire months without speaking a single word. He walked over and took my hand. “Hannah, you’re my wife. If something’s wrong, you need to tell me. We’re supposed to face things together.” I pulled my hand away. His touch felt foreign, unsettling. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d held hands. Let alone kissed. We had been sleeping in separate rooms for a long time. We weren’t husband and wife. We were roommates. “Tom, I can handle it myself.” He lost his composure, his voice rising. “Then what do you need me for? You do everything yourself. Is that all I am to you? A decoration?” I clenched my fists, trying to keep my face neutral. “Isn’t that what I am?” I shot back. “You’re the one who said I shouldn’t bother you with things I can handle myself. You said that even though we’re married, we’re still individuals.” His voice was hoarse. “Are you really going to hold onto that one thing for so long?” It wasn’t that I wanted to hold onto it. It was that every time I tried to talk to him, I could say a hundred words and he wouldn’t reply with one. My desire to share had slowly withered and died. Then he started ignoring my calls. Whenever I needed him most, he was nowhere to be found. The truth was, I could handle everything by myself. I had to. “Tom, Lucy is the one who needs your protection, isn’t she?” Lucy was younger than me, more vibrant. All it took was one phone call, and he would drop everything and run to her. Including that day at the beginning of the year. The day I was lying on a cold operating table, and the space for my husband’s signature on the consent form was empty. Just before the anesthesia took hold, a nurse had handed me the clipboard. Hearing her name now, his anger flared. “Are you insane? Are you trying to make me feel guilty with these pathetic, passive-aggressive comments?” “Lucy is my intern. As her boss, I’m just looking out for her.” I laughed, a cold, empty sound. “Is that it? So, you buy her cars, take her on trips, and when my own mother died, you were with her, stargazing in London?” I met his eyes. “Tom, why even bother with the charade?” He was about to say something else when a knock came at the door. Lucy’s cheerful voice chirped from the hallway. “Hello! Your food delivery is here!” 3 I opened the door and saw her in person for the first time. Twenty-two. The age of a blooming flower. She was wearing a short, pink skirt, her body flawless, her skin radiant. She looked at me, her clear eyes filled with an undisguised contempt, and placed the takeout bag on the entryway table. “You must be Mr. Bennett’s wife. I’m his intern, Lucy.” She extended a hand, and my eyes immediately fell on the diamond ring sparkling on her ring finger. My wedding ring. It had mysteriously disappeared six months ago. Now, it was on her hand. Lucy’s smile widened, her voice light and airy. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Mr. Bennett gave it to me. Oh, and here’s your food.” She gestured to the bag. “But a little friendly advice? At your age, eating heavy, salty food at night will make you bloated. Your metabolism just can’t handle it anymore.” I picked up the bag of noodle soup and, right in front of them, dropped it into the trash can. “You have a point,” I said, my voice even. “Some things are better off thrown away.” Lucy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Are you doing this on purpose? If you don’t like me, I’ll just leave.” Tom stepped in front of her, shielding her. “What’s your problem?” he snapped at me. “Lucy was kind enough to bring you food, and you just throw it away like that?” “Mr. Bennett, please don’t fight,” Lucy sobbed. “It’s just a bag of takeout,” he said, his voice dripping with impatience. “She’s young, she doesn’t know any better. Why are you picking a fight with her? Throwing it away like that… you’re being cruel.” Cruel. I looked at Lucy’s triumphant, tear-streaked face, and I suddenly wanted to laugh. I was twenty-two once. Young and full of life. I gave him the best years of my life. I lived with him in a basement apartment, ate ramen noodles with him, cooked him hangover soup when he came home late from networking events, and swallowed every single one of my own frustrations and disappointments. Now I was thirty-five. I had fine lines around my eyes and calloused hands from years of taking care of him. I was the shadow that followed him. And because I threw away a bag of takeout delivered with an insult, he called me cruel. My voice was calm when I spoke. “Tom, my ring. Does it look good on her hand?” His eyes darted away, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “She found it. I was just about to ask her to give it back to you.” A mocking laugh escaped my lips. “Really? She just happened to find my wedding ring in my jewelry box and decided to wear it herself?” The color drained from Lucy’s face, and she quickly hid her hand behind her back. Tom’s embarrassment turned to anger. “That’s enough! It’s just a ring. Do you have to be so aggressive?” He turned to Lucy. “Give her the ring back.” Lucy bit her lip and slowly, reluctantly, slipped the ring off her finger. It “accidentally” slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. I didn’t move to pick it up. Seeing my inaction, Tom bent down, retrieved the ring, and held it out to me, his voice tight with suppressed fury. “Hannah, here’s your ring. Now stop making a scene.” The heart that had once beaten so fiercely for him was sinking, sinking into an abyss so deep I could no longer feel the pain. Favoritism doesn’t need a reason. His heart favored Lucy, so no matter what I did, I would always be in the wrong. Suddenly, I felt tired. So tired that I didn’t have the energy to say another word. “You can keep the ring,” I said. “Or give it to someone you think deserves it.” I paused. “And one more thing. Tomorrow, two o’clock, at the courthouse. Let’s get a divorce.” 4 Tom blinked, his voice uncertain. “Are you serious?” I looked at the trash can. “Yes. This noodle soup is like our marriage. It looks hot and steamy, but it’s already gone bad.” Without another word, I walked into the bedroom and closed the door. The voices outside faded away. I sat with my back against the door for a long time. In our wedding photo on the wall, a twenty-five-year-old Tom was looking down at me, his eyes shining like stars in a summer sky. We were so poor then. He had used three months of overtime pay to buy me my first gold necklace. “Whatever other people have, you’ll have too,” he had said. “You’re my star.” He bought me more expensive jewelry over the years, but I only ever wore that gold chain. Six months ago, it broke. I took it to be repaired, but the jeweler said it was too worn down to be fixed. He had found his moon now. He didn’t need his star anymore. The next afternoon, at the courthouse. Tom’s car pulled up right on time. But he wasn’t alone. Lucy hopped out of the passenger seat and linked her arm through his. “You don’t mind if I come along, do you? Today is an important day. I want to be here to support Tom.” I ignored her. “Let’s go.” He frowned, and we walked up the steps of the courthouse like two strangers, one behind the other. Suddenly, there was a screech of tires and a chorus of screams from behind us. I whirled around. Lucy had fallen down the steps. A car, not seeing her, had driven straight into her. “Lucy!” Tom flew down the steps like a madman, dropping to his knees beside her. A pool of crimson was quickly spreading beneath her. He screamed at me, his voice raw. “An ambulance! Call an ambulance!” I stood frozen at the top of the steps, my hands and feet turning to ice. It had all happened so fast. I didn’t even see how she fell. Tom took off his jacket and covered her with it, calling her name over and over. Lucy’s eyes fluttered open. She pointed a weak, trembling finger at me. “It was you… you did this…” The veins on his forehead bulged. He roared, his voice cracking with rage. “Stop pretending! I knew something was wrong yesterday when you were so calm. You hate her, you hate me, so you chose today to do this. Hannah, how could you be so evil?” His voice dropped to a choked whisper. “She’s pregnant. She’s carrying my child.” A murmur went through the crowd of onlookers. Dozens of eyes turned to me, their gazes like needles piercing my skin. I looked at Lucy. And in that moment, I saw it. A flicker of a cold, triumphant smile. It was a setup. She was using her own child to utterly destroy me. A deep, bone-chilling cold settled in my heart. “In your mind, is that really the kind of person I am?” His eyes were bloodshot, and every word he spoke was a dagger. “What else am I supposed to think? You threw away her food yesterday. Are you going to deny that you hate her? You’re a murderer.” Those four words were the final, crushing blow. In that instant, every emotion I had suppressed broke through the dam of my reason. I reached into my bag and pulled out a manila envelope. The envelope I had brought with me for my follow-up appointment today. Under his furious, hateful gaze, I threw it in his face. Papers scattered, fluttering to the ground like ashes. On the top was a surgical consent form from the city hospital, dated at the beginning of the year. Patient: Hannah Bennett. Procedure: Lumpectomy. Date: January 12th. Family Signature: Self. Tom froze. Tears streamed down my face, but I was laughing, my whole body shaking. “A murderer? Aren’t you the murderer?”

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1 My million-dollar investment fund was supposed to be the key to my future. Instead, it became the dowry for my fiancée’s adopted brother. Seraphina’s family had one rule: any man who wanted to marry her had to build a three-million-dollar investment fund. I scrimped and saved, working myself to the bone, ruining my health, until I finally hit the two-million mark. But then, everything went wrong. The stock market crashed. A major project at work fell through. That last million felt impossibly far away. Seraphina, seeing how much I was struggling, promised she would help me save. Then my mother fell gravely ill. She needed an expensive, life-saving surgery. I tried to access the fund, but after three failed password attempts, the account was locked. I couldn’t get a single penny out. I raced to the bank, half-panicked. The teller delivered the news with cold indifference. “Sir, you are not the authorized user of this fund.” How was that possible? I had deposited every single dollar myself! The teller, annoyed, spun his monitor towards me. The name of the fund was displayed in stark black letters: The Leo Matheson Marriage Endowment. … I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Just then, the bank manager’s voice, hushed and nervous, drifted from a nearby office. “Ms. Matheson, that was a close one. Mr. Ethan Grey was just in here trying to withdraw thirty thousand. I managed to stop him just in time.” “Good.” The tip of Seraphina’s cigarette glowed in the dim light. “Leo has always been sheltered. I don’t want people to think he’s incapable when he gets married. Every dollar in that fund was earned through Ethan’s hard work. It will give Leo’s future in-laws a reason to respect him.” The manager chuckled obsequiously. “But Ms. Matheson… Mr. Grey has been struggling to reach that final million. It’s not like him…” Seraphina casually stubbed out her cigarette. “That was my doing. Leo isn’t done enjoying the single life yet. I can’t get married until he does. We’re not in a rush.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. The money I had traded my health for was nothing more than a status symbol for her brother? A dull ache spread through my chest. Before I could even process the betrayal, my phone buzzed with another urgent message from the hospital. “Mr. Grey, if you can’t pay the surgical fees soon, there’s nothing more we can do.” Sweating, panicked, I ran, losing a shoe in my haste to catch up to Seraphina as she left the bank. I cornered her outside her office, swallowing every last scrap of my pride. “I need thirty thousand. Please. I’ll pay you back…” She froze, her expression hardening into a mask of corporate disapproval. “My parents made you save that money as a test, not so you could find loopholes. Instead of begging for money, you should be developing new projects. Your performance this quarter is already lagging.” She looked me up and down with disdain. “And thirty thousand, just like that? Do you think I’m made of money?” I was speechless. As I tried to follow her, her assistant blocked my path. “Sir, please.” Just then, her brother, Leo, dressed head-to-toe in designer clothes, shouldered past me and bounced into her office, showing off his latest shopping haul. A single watch on his wrist was worth more than my mother’s surgery. And every cent of it was my money. My five years of relentless, back-breaking work. What was that worth in Seraphina’s eyes? As I turned to leave, my phone rang. My mother was gone. Through the blinds of her office window, I could see them laughing together. I pulled out my phone and called a number I hadn’t dialed in five years. “You said you’d always have a position for me. Does that offer still stand?” The funeral lasted three days. It was long enough for me to cry myself empty. The whole world knew my mother had died. The only person who didn’t was Seraphina. She knew I would skip meals, sacrifice sleep, do anything to hit that three-million-dollar mark. She had seen me work until I was hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer, and she had sat by my bedside, her voice soft with concern. “Ethan, you don’t have to push yourself so hard. I’m here for you, you know.” I thought it was love. I never imagined that she was the one using my blood and bones to pave a golden road for her brother. In my grief, a small, foolish part of me hoped she would notice my absence, that she would call, that she would ask what was wrong. But the tabloids were full of her. She was making headlines for outbidding everyone at auctions, making a spectacle of her generosity as she built a trousseau for Leo. MATHESON HEIRESS D’OTES ON ADOPTED BROTHER, SPENDING MORE ON HIS FUTURE THAN HER OWN WEDDING! Even the paparazzi could see it. I remembered handing her our wedding plans, a thick binder filled with dreams. She hadn’t even looked up from her work. “It’s still a long way off. You handle it.” Now, I was tired. So incredibly tired. When I finally went back to our apartment, she greeted me with a warm hug. “You must be exhausted, honey.” She sighed, her voice laced with practiced regret. “I’m sorry I was so harsh before. I was just thinking about our future. This is the only thing my parents have ever asked of you. As soon as you hit that target, we can get married.” Is that so? The wedding I had waited five years for was entirely dependent on whether or not her brother felt like settling down? I pulled away from her embrace, my smile feeling brittle. “The wedding can wait.” My cool response seemed to extinguish the last of her patience. “Ethan, is this because I didn’t lend you that thirty thousand?” she snapped. “I’m just as anxious to get married as you are, but I can’t help you cheat!” I looked at her, my voice trembling despite my efforts to keep it steady. “I’m done. I don’t want to save anymore. I’m just… tired.” Her anger vanished, replaced by a flicker of panic. “What are you talking about? Don’t joke like that. If you’re tired, I can help you behind the scenes from now on.” I stared into her eyes, wondering how she could say that with a straight face. A few weeks ago, a project I had spent six months designing was suddenly accused of regulatory violations at a major bidding conference. The “evidence” was damning. I was crucified by the industry, branded a fraud. Seraphina had been my fierce defender, smashing a bottle over the accuser’s head and comforting me all night. I never would have guessed that she was the one who orchestrated the whole thing. The stock market dips, the supply chain failures… it was all her. A heavy pain settled in my chest. I couldn’t even clench my fists. Later that night, I heard her on the phone in her study, her voice a hushed whisper. “Yes, lay off him for now. Let him land a few small projects. It won’t be enough to finish the fund quickly.” I stood on the other side of the thick door and laughed without making a sound. There was no point. I was done playing her game. Leaning against the doorframe, I heard her switch to a video call with Leo, her voice softening as she used his pet name, patiently coaching him on how to pitch my project at the conference the next day. I remembered when I was starting out, how ruthless she had been, her standards impossibly high. I didn’t listen anymore. I went to the bedroom, packed my bags, and booked a flight for the following night. The five-hundred-page project proposal burned brightly in the fireplace. “What are you doing?” Seraphina demanded, rushing in and snatching the charred remains from the flames. A bitter taste filled my mouth. “Nothing. It just fell in.” She didn’t question it. She simply reprinted a fresh copy and handed it to me. “Be on time for the conference tomorrow.” The next day, the conference hall was packed with the city’s business elite. But the center of attention wasn’t me. It was Leo, dressed in a flamboyant tuxedo, his arm wrapped possessively around Seraphina’s waist as he chatted animatedly with investors. He was the star of the show. Until my proposal flashed onto the main screen. A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. “Isn’t that Mr. Matheson’s idea? How shameless, stealing someone else’s work!” “It’s blatant plagiarism! He’s really willing to do anything to marry into that family.” “Good thing Leo mentioned his concept to us earlier. Otherwise, Grey might have tried to blame him!” I instinctively looked at Seraphina. Her face was a mask of disappointment and shame. “You don’t believe me either?” She looked away, disgusted. “You know what you did.” She turned her back on me completely, pulling Leo into a comforting embrace. He buried his face in her shoulder, his body shaking with crocodile tears. “I know Ethan doesn’t like me,” he sobbed. “But I worked so hard on this proposal. How could you say it’s yours?” Seraphina’s face hardened. She pointed a finger at me, her voice ringing through the silent hall. “I trusted you! And you repay me by bringing shame to this family? If this is how you intend to earn your money, you will never marry me!” My heart shattered. I remembered when her parents first gave me the ultimatum. She had been so indignant, so ready to fight for me. She said she would rather give up her inheritance than see me crushed under such pressure. Now, I wondered. How much of that was real? My voice was thick with emotion. “You reprinted the proposal yourself last night. You know—” “Shut up!” she roared. “Who knows when you cornered Leo, what despicable means you used to steal his idea!” She didn’t care about my side. She only cared about the tears on her brother’s face. The whispers and jeers of the crowd felt like physical blows. Leo, his eyes red and puffy, gave a deep, theatrical bow to the audience. “I apologize for the trouble we’ve caused. I’ll personally compensate everyone for their time. Please, forgive my brother-in-law.” Seraphina’s heart seemed to melt. “It’s not your fault. You have nothing to apologize for.” She then turned her steely gaze on me. “Ethan, you will pay for the company’s losses.” I started to laugh, a wild, unhinged sound. “Seraphina, can I even access the money in the fund?” She flinched, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. But her next words were a death blow. “Doesn’t your mother have an ancestral home? Auction it off.” For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. That house was the only thing my mother had left, a final gift from my father before he died. Even when she was on her deathbed, I couldn’t bring myself to sell it. “No!” My firm refusal only prompted more theatrics from Leo. “It’s my fault. Ethan must hate me for embarrassing him. I’ll give you the proposal, just please, auction the house. Don’t let Seraphina lose face because of this.” I felt the blood rush to my head. “It was my proposal to begin with!” “Enough!” Seraphina slapped me, the sound echoing through the hall. “What is wrong with you? We can rent your mother another apartment. Is that really more important than Leo’s feelings?” The sting on my cheek was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. The prestigious bidding conference turned into an auction for my mother’s legacy. The crowd whispered and watched, but no one made a bid. “I bid… one dollar!” Leo’s cheerful voice cut through the silence. The room erupted in laughter. Seraphina just sighed, a look of fond exasperation on her face. She knew what that house meant to me. With Leo leading the charge, the bids became a cruel joke. “Two dollars and fifty cents!” “Five dollars, over here!” Their contemptuous gazes were suffocating. From the back of the room, Leo shot me a triumphant smirk. The gavel came down. My mother’s home was sold for the humiliating sum of fifty dollars. My eyes burned. Seraphina signed the transfer papers and gave me a dismissive glance. “The point was to show everyone you were sorry. The price doesn’t matter.” I stared at her, each word a monumental effort. “The house doesn’t matter. My mother’s life doesn’t matter. And from now on, Seraphina, neither do you.”

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I bought a used laptop online, expecting a beat-up machine to get me through the school year. What arrived was the latest, high-end model, brand new out of the box. I opened it up, and my jaw hit the floor. The wallpaper was a photo of me. The password was my birthday. Just as I was wondering if I had a secret admirer or a stalker, my phone blew up. The seller was spamming me with frantic texts: “Dude! I sent the wrong one! That’s my sister’s brand-new laptop!” “That wasn’t the one for sale! Oh my god, she’s going to kill me.” “Did you see the guy on the wallpaper? That’s her future husband. She’s obsessed with him.” “Please, for the sake of true love, can you send it back?” 1 My four-year-old laptop finally gave up the ghost right before payday. I was broke. I teach third grade; “broke” is my default setting. I scoured eBay for four days until I found a listing that fit my sad little budget. To save even more money, I decided to shoot my shot. I pulled out the metaphorical machete: “Would you take $200?” The listing was for $500. I expected to be blocked or cursed out. Instead, the seller replied instantly: “Sure. Free shipping, too.” I felt like I’d encountered a benevolent god. I sent a string of generic, over-the-top compliments to the default avatar profile: “You are an angel! May you win the lottery! May you get a promotion! May your crush fall in love with you!” After a pause, she replied: “I hope so.” I paid immediately. The seller messaged: “We’re in the same city. Can you pick it up?” “Totally.” A few minutes later: “Actually, something came up. I have to go out of town. I’ll have my family courier it to you tomorrow.” The next day, I came home from school to find a package. I opened it, and my smile froze. This wasn’t the gray brick I ordered. This was a Rose Gold, top-of-the-line beast. It cost ten times what I paid. Confused, I hit the power button. The screen lit up. And there I was. It was a photo of me from high school, standing under a cherry blossom tree, holding an ice cream cone, waving at the camera. I looked young, happy, and full of life. Unlike the current me, who looks like a walking corpse fueled by caffeine. Why did a stranger have my photo as their wallpaper? Was this a prank? A gift? I looked at the password field. on a hunch, I typed in my birthday. Click. Unlocked. I grabbed my phone to ask the seller what was going on. That’s when the barrage of texts came in. “I messed up! I grabbed the wrong box!” “That’s my sister’s laptop! She keeps a photo of her ‘dream husband’ on it because she’s crazy!” “Please, help a girl out!” 2 I stared at the screen. “Dream husband?” Me? I convinced myself it was a coincidence. Maybe my photo became a meme online or a stock image. As for the birthday… plenty of people are born on that day. The seller’s panic seemed genuine, and honestly, a little hilarious. I replied: “Okay, I’ll return it.” I’m a teacher. I can’t steal a laptop, and I certainly don’t want to mess with someone’s “dream husband” delusion. The seller sent a flood of crying emojis. “Thank you! You’re a saint! I’ll meet you at the mall near the elementary school. Call me when you get there.” I grabbed the laptop and headed to the mall. I scanned the entrance for anyone looking like they were waiting for a package. Instead, I saw one of my students. Zoe. Zoe was staring at her massive, pink smartwatch, stomping her foot nervously. Seeing her triggered a memory from that morning. During recess, Zoe had cornered me. “Mr. Miller, do you have a girlfriend?” “No,” I’d said. She slapped her hand on her desk and pulled over another kid, Lucas. “Okay, Mr. Miller. Two choices. One: You become my brother-in-law. Two: You become his uncle. Pick one.” I was confused. Then I remembered Zoe was Lucas’s aunt (don’t ask about the family tree). Lucas had chimed in, “Yeah! My Aunt Nora is super pretty! She’s a police detective! She’s tall and kicks butt!” I had laughed it off. “I’ll give you two choices. Double homework, or triple homework?” They had scattered like roaches. Now, seeing Zoe at the mall, I tried to hide. I didn’t want to get roped into another “Choose Your Own Adventure” romance plot. I looked at the sky. I looked at my shoes. “Mr. Miller!” Too late. Zoe sprinted over. “What a coincidence! Are you waiting for a girlfriend?” I sighed. “No, Zoe.” It was 7:30 PM. “Where are your parents? It’s getting dark.” Zoe held up her watch. “I am on a mission. To protect my sister’s love life… and my own survival.” “Is your ride here?” She pointed to a sleek, expensive black car by the curb. “Driver’s right there.” I remembered I needed to call the seller. I dialed the number. Zoe’s giant pink watch started ringing. 3 The look on Zoe’s face was a masterpiece of pure terror. She stared at the laptop in my hands. Her brain rebooted. “M-Mr. Miller? You bought the laptop?” I handed it to her. “Here.” “Lying isn’t a good habit, Zoe. Also, tell your sister to refund my money.” Zoe looked like she was about to cry. “I can’t refund it! If she sees the transaction, she’ll know I sold the wrong one! She’s a cop! She knows how to hide a body!” “She beats me! You don’t want to see your favorite student with a black eye, do you?” “I thought you said she was nice?” I asked. “She is! I mean… no! She’s a tyrant! Please, Mr. Miller!” She was spiraling. “Okay, okay,” I said. “But I need the computer I actually bought. Or the money.” Zoe sniffled. “Can you… come to my house and get it?” 4 I followed Zoe into her house. The living room was full of people. “Mom, Dad, I’m home!” Zoe announced. “Sister… you’re back?” On the couch sat a woman. She had her eyes closed. She was wearing a simple T-shirt and sweatpants, but you could see the muscle definition underneath. Tan skin. Sharp jawline. Even sleeping, she looked intimidatingly gorgeous. So this is the sister. My eyes lingered a little too long. Zoe tugged my sleeve. “Mr. Miller, you’re drooling.” “I am not.” Zoe ran over to the woman and shook her. “Nora! Wake up! Emergency!” Her parents walked over to me, looking confused. “Who is this?” They didn’t recognize me. Which was weird, because “Zoe’s Guardian” liked every single one of my Facebook posts. “Hi, I’m Liam Miller. Zoe’s teacher.” The woman on the couch snapped her eyes open. She looked at me. Her gaze was sharp, analytical. A predator assessing prey. I looked away, nervous. Zoe was whispering to her sister. “Buy me the Lego Death Star! Or else!” Nora grabbed Zoe by the collar and tossed her aside like a sack of potatoes. “You failed math. No Death Star. Be quiet.” Zoe’s mom ushered me in. “Is Zoe in trouble at school? She’s a handful.” “No, no,” I explained. “I actually bought a laptop from… Zoe’s sister. There was a mix-up.” “Nora?” Her dad called out. “Go get Mr. Miller his computer.” Nora stood up. She walked past me without a word, her face completely blank, and went into a bedroom. Zoe was punching the sofa cushions in rage. “She won’t buy it! Evil woman!” I sat awkwardly with the parents. I decided to make conversation. “Zoe is a great kid,” I lied. “Very spirited. She’s talked the ears off nine different desk-mates.” Before I could finish, a slice of orange was shoved into my mouth. “Eat, Mr. Miller,” Zoe hissed. “My sister peeled it.” Zoe hopped off the couch and grabbed the rose gold laptop I had placed on the table. She opened it. The screen lit up. My face, eating ice cream, beamed at the entire family. Just then, Nora walked out of her room. Zoe gasped theatrically. “Oh my god, Nora! Why is Mr. Miller on your wallpaper? That is so weird!”

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My family went bankrupt. Then my best friend’s brother decided to force my hand. My best friend was fighting for me. “Sebastian! How could you do this to my best friend?” Her brother’s expression was calm. “You have a crush on her brother, don’t you? I had him brought here for you.” My best friend’s face changed in an instant. “Oh! Well, in that case!” Me: ? My brother: ? 1 My family’s business collapsed. My younger brother, Liam, and I were handling it with a grim sort of calm. The one person who wasn’t calm was my best friend, Isabelle Thorne. She called me, practically screaming into the phone. “Chloe! Are you okay? Are there loan sharks camped out on your lawn? Did they splash red paint on your door or something?” “…” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m fine, Izzy. And maybe you should watch a little less TV.” “Can you even afford to eat?” She had already pictured me begging on a street corner. “Quick, give me your bank details, I’ll wire you some money!” “It’s okay, really,” I reassured her. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” After another ten minutes of dramatic wailing, she suddenly switched gears. “Chloe! I’ve been thinking, and I’ve come up with three possible solutions to save your family!” Thinking she was finally about to be serious, I sat up straighter. “I’m listening.” Isabelle declared, “Plan A! I’ll beg my brother to marry you!” “…” I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. Before the bankruptcy, my family’s business had been successful. But compared to the Thorne family, we were small-time. Theirs was old money, an empire that had only grown more formidable in recent years. And that was all thanks to Sebastian Thorne. Liam, Izzy, and I were the creative types, none of us with an ounce of business sense or any desire to take over our family companies. Sebastian was the complete opposite. In the business world, he was ruthless, decisive, and terrifyingly brilliant—a true titan of industry. I’d only met him a few times, but each time, he was like a walking glacier—imposing, cold, and radiating a chill that dropped the room temperature by ten degrees. Even though Izzy was his sister, she’d been on the receiving end of his lectures more times than she could count for her wild antics. She would often come to me, crying. “Everyone else’s brother is so sweet and gentle! Why is mine so scary?” But for all his scolding, their bond was strong. When Izzy’s chatter got on his nerves, Sebastian’s go-to solution was to throw money at her until she went away. Izzy would instantly transform, snatching the cash with a grin. “Thanks, Seb! You’re the best brother in the world!” If even his own sister was a little intimidated by him, what chance did I have? Besides, despite his frosty demeanor, Sebastian was tall, devastatingly handsome, and had a line of admirers stretching from New York to Paris. Why would he ever choose me? I immediately vetoed her first plan. “What’s Plan B?” Izzy’s voice jumped an octave, clearly thrilled with her next idea. “Plan B is—” “I’ll marry your brother!” 2 I have a younger brother, Liam, who is two years my junior. Liam is a lot like me—quiet and reserved. He’s also incredibly good-looking, the classic cool, aloof campus heartthrob all through school. Girls were constantly asking me to pass love letters to him. Izzy and I met during our junior year of college. As we grew closer, we started visiting each other’s homes. The first time Izzy saw Liam, she fell for him. Hard. Her jaw dropped, her eyes lit up, and she grabbed my hand, her voice a dramatic whisper. “Chloe, I think I’ve just met my Prince Charming.” “…This is my brother, Liam,” I introduced them. “What!” She got even more excited. “This is perfect! It’s fate, Chloe! Fate!” Liam just gave her a weary look and walked away. I tried to gently warn her. “Izzy, are you sure? Liam is… a tough nut to crack.” I had seen him turn down more girls than I could count. But Izzy didn’t listen. She launched a full-scale, no-holds-barred campaign to win him over. So far, it hadn’t worked. But she was nothing if not persistent, her spirit commendable. I couldn’t stand it anymore and asked Liam myself, “Do you really not like Izzy? She’s amazing. She’s beautiful, and she’s so fun and cheerful.” Liam just handed me a freshly peeled apple. “Eat your apple, and stop asking questions.” So, I shut up and took a bite. Deep down, I really hoped they would get together. Liam might not be a man of many words, but he was the best brother anyone could ask for. When I first heard about the bankruptcy, I was terrified. Liam, an architect, was out of town for work, but he rushed back overnight. He found me sitting in a daze and put a steadying hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Chloe. I’m here.” Instantly, I felt a surge of confidence. “I know.” I could tell that while Liam hadn’t been interested in Izzy at first, she was slowly getting under his skin. The last time I’d casually mentioned that some guy was asking Izzy out, Liam had been in a foul mood for the rest of the day. But a crush was one thing. With our family’s current situation, he was under immense pressure. Marrying Izzy was out of the question. So, Plan B was a no-go. Izzy sighed dramatically. “Well, that only leaves Plan C,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Maybe we should just elope!” 3 As ridiculous as it sounded, it somehow seemed more plausible than the first two options. But I still turned her down. “Why are all of your plans about one of us marrying one of you?” “To make us family, of course!” Izzy said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Besides, my family is loaded. We could pay off all your debts in a heartbeat!” She had a point. Then she suddenly gasped. “Wait! Don’t you have a childhood fiancé or something?” She meant Noah. Our families had lived next door to each other when we were kids. Noah was my shadow, following me everywhere. Our parents used to joke that we should just have an arranged marriage when we grew up. It was just talk, of course, nothing official. I’d always thought of Noah as a good friend and never took it seriously. Until my family went bankrupt. Noah showed up at my door, looking frantic. “Chloe, I told my parents we have to honor our engagement, but they won’t agree!” “I’m still trying to convince them! Just wait for me!” “Don’t worry,” he declared, puffing out his chest. “I won’t break things off just because your family is broke!” I stared at him, completely baffled. Break things off? We weren’t even together. I tried to explain. “Noah, uh, I don’t think we ever had a real engagement…” “Of course we did! My dad said so himself when I was five! Our families were going to be joined!” He wouldn’t listen, his eyes wide with conviction. “Chloe, wait for me! You just have to wait for me!” He ran off, shouting “Wait for me!” over his shoulder, leaving me utterly confused. I kept meaning to sit him down and explain things properly, but after the bankruptcy, life was a whirlwind of paperwork and phone calls. Thankfully, most of it was sorted out now. After liquidating our assets, we were still in debt, but it was a manageable number, not an insurmountable mountain. Liam and I were both working overtime to pay it off, bit by bit. I was a freelance illustrator, and I had taken on a flood of private commissions. Liam was constantly working late or traveling for business. Seeing how exhausted I was, Izzy insisted on dragging me away from my endless pile of sketches for a weekend getaway. “Come on, please!” she begged. “It’s my brother’s new mountain villa! We can watch the sunset, it’s gorgeous, I promise!” I couldn’t say no. “Okay, fine.” So that weekend, we drove up to the villa. It was perched on a mountaintop, lavishly decorated, with a breathtaking view. “What do you think? Isn’t it amazing?” Izzy said, pulling me along excitedly. “I begged my brother to let me throw a party here, but he always said no. This time, when I told him I wanted to bring you here for a vacation, he had a rare moment of mercy and actually agreed!” On the second floor, there was a huge observation deck overlooking the lush, green mountains. Izzy and I lounged on recliners, and watching the scenery, I felt my stress begin to melt away. After a while, Izzy went downstairs to get the desserts she’d been baking. I was lying there alone when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned my head. And froze. Izzy hadn’t mentioned Sebastian would be here. I fumbled for a moment, not knowing what to call him, and just stared up at him dumbly as he approached. He stopped beside my chair and spoke first. “How have you been holding up?” His voice snapped me out of my trance. “I’m… I’m okay.” A breeze swept across the deck, making the trees sway like a green ocean. It was so beautiful, I let out a soft sigh of admiration. He caught it. “You like it here?” “I love it,” I nodded, then joked, “The view is so incredible, it’s completely cleared my head. If only I could live here forever.” I was just making a casual remark, but Sebastian replied without a hint of hesitation. “You can.” I didn’t understand. “What?” “You can live here forever.” He looked down at me, his usual intimidating aura softened by the serious look in his eyes. “All you have to do is marry me.” 4 For a second, I was sure I’d misheard him. After a few stunned blinks, I quickly waved my hands. “I was just kidding.” But his expression didn’t change. “I’m not.” Now I was completely lost. I remembered Izzy’s joke about getting her brother to marry me and wondered if she had actually asked him. But Sebastian wasn’t the type to do things just because his sister asked. “Marry me,” Sebastian repeated. “You can name your terms.” I started to stammer. “I-I don’t think so.” A frown creased his brow, a clear sign of his displeasure. He was about to say something else when Izzy came back up, carrying a plate of cake. “Seb?” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here?” “Just passing through. I’m leaving soon.” He turned to go, then paused and looked back at me. “Think about it.” “Passing through what? The middle of nowhere?” Izzy watched him go, confused. “What were you guys talking about? I swear my brother looks even angrier than usual. His iceberg face is extra frosty.” I didn’t know what to say, so I asked her cautiously, “Did you, by any chance, ask your brother to marry me?” “Nope!” she said, shaking her head. “I was going to, but then I saw his face and chickened out. I was afraid he’d tell me to get lost, so I dropped it.” That only made me more confused, but I didn’t press the issue. After that, Izzy kept dragging me on “getaways,” sometimes to a resort her brother had invested in, other times to one of his properties. “I don’t know what’s gotten into my brother lately,” she’d say. “He’s suddenly being nice to me! He says yes to everywhere I want to go. I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth!” I tried to refuse, but she was relentless. I only agreed to go after making sure Sebastian wouldn’t be there. Our fourth trip was to a beach house he’d bought a year ago. Izzy said she’d only been allowed to stay there once since it was renovated. We ended up just curling up in the home theater to watch a movie. Halfway through, Izzy complained of a stomachache and ran to the bathroom. I paused the movie to wait for her. But she wasn’t the one who came back. It was Sebastian. Before I could even think of some polite small talk, he cut straight to the chase. “Have you made your decision?” I just stared at him blankly. “Huh?” “Marrying me,” he clarified. “I can pay off your family’s debt.” I didn’t answer right away. To be honest, I was tempted. But my hesitation must have looked like a refusal to him. His brow furrowed. “Why not? Is it because of that childhood fiancé of yours?” I was shocked. Izzy had even told him about Noah! “No, that’s not it,” I tried to explain. “That whole thing was…” He didn’t seem interested in my explanation. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.” He produced a glass of milk from somewhere and handed it to me. “Drink.” “Oh, okay.” I took the glass obediently and took a sip. “Finish it,” he commanded. I dutifully drank the rest of it. “It tastes a little bitter,” I remarked. “Mm,” he said, taking the empty glass back. “Are you tired?” Now that he mentioned it, a wave of drowsiness washed over me. I rubbed my eyes. “Yeah, a little.” My thoughts suddenly felt fuzzy, and my eyelids grew heavy. In the last few seconds before I lost consciousness, I heard his voice, low and soft. “Go to sleep.”

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Danny was on his deathbed, and I was the only one there, his faithful companion. I was peeling an apple, the rhythmic scrape of the blade a comfort. I smiled at our children. “Want to hear the story of your parents’ golden anniversary?” I expected fond smiles. Instead, they looked at me as if I’d served them poison. My son, Ben, shook his head. “Mom, look at me and Maya. We’re not married. Don’t you understand why?” I stared, bewildered. “Why? Your father and I have been through fifty years together.” Maya shot to her feet. “Fifty years as his mistress?” she shot back, her voice shaking. “Fifty years with no name, no rights, raising two illegitimate children while another woman shared him as your equal? You call that a golden anniversary? I’d rather be alone!” Rage flared in me. Crack. My palm struck her cheek. Maya clutched her face, eyes blazing with tears. Those eyes were screaming, He’s not worth it. A wave of vertigo hit me. I clutched my chest, a sharp pain lancing through my heart, and crumpled to the floor. All that came out was a choked gasp and the coppery taste of blood. 1 “Mom! Mom, don’t scare me!” Maya cried, her anger instantly replaced by panic. I grabbed her arm, my voice a desperate rasp. “You think he doesn’t love me? Your father? After fifty years, you think there was never any love?” She turned her face away, unable to meet my eyes. I violently shook off the hand she offered to help me up and scrambled toward the hospital bed. I seized Danny’s frail, withered wrist, the skin a roadmap of needle marks and faded bruises. I leaned in close, staring into his clouded eyes, my voice a raw shout. “Danny! Don’t you love me? Huh?” “In high school, you skipped breakfast every day to save up and buy me a rose. In winter, you knitted me a scarf and warmed my hands in yours. In college, you worked all summer to buy me a ring… Have you forgotten all that?” “Say something! Answer me!” I shook him with all my strength, but not a single sound could escape the tube in his throat. He’d endured five major surgeries this year alone. The handsome, strong man I once knew was gone, replaced by a fragile skeleton trapped in this sterile white bed. He’d had two women in his life, and children from both. But in the end, the only one here, tending to him day and night, was me. “How dare you say you don’t love me? Speak!” I slapped him, once, then again, the sound sharp in the sterile room, my hands striking his hollowed-out cheeks. “You liar! You’ve lied to me my whole life! Give him back to me… Give me back the Danny I knew when I was twenty!” His head lolled to the side from the force of the blows. He couldn’t move, but his old eyes slowly, painfully, turned back to me. And then, large, cloudy tears began to roll down his temples, quickly soaking the white hair at his sides. Maya wrapped her arms around me from behind, her voice choked with sobs. “Mom, stop! Please, stop! He can’t talk!” My mouth was open, but I couldn’t breathe. The world swam before my eyes. All I ever wanted was to fool myself for a lifetime. 2 Danny had two women in his life. We grew up on the same block, in a rough part of town. Childhood sweethearts, inseparable. The year we graduated, Danny’s academic excellence landed him a coveted position as a senior aide to Chairman Sterling, the head of the Sterling Corporation. The other woman was the Chairman’s secret, illegitimate daughter. On my twenty-second birthday, I accepted Danny’s proposal. The very next day, I was taken. The kidnappers demanded a twenty-million-dollar ransom, or they would kill me. But Danny and I were just kids, fresh out of school. Twenty million was an impossible sum. To prove they were serious, they’d sent him my ring finger, the engagement ring still on it. Danny knelt before Chairman Sterling for a day and a night, begging. He came back with a check for twenty million dollars. And he brought me home. The price was a night with the Chairman’s daughter, Eleanor Sterling. On his deathbed, Chairman Sterling used that twenty million to secure a stable future for his illegitimate daughter. He saw Danny’s talent and ambition. He entrusted him with the entire Sterling Corporation, and with Eleanor. I was in agony. I struggled. The man I loved now had a woman who would be by his side for life. I should have wished them well and disappeared. But every time I made up my mind to leave him for good, Danny would appear. Sometimes drunk, sometimes sober and clear-eyed. He would kiss the mutilated finger that could never again wear a ring and whisper, “Lena, don’t you ever think you can leave me. You owe me twenty million. You owe me your life.” Later, he confessed that his relationship with Eleanor was just for show, a necessary evil. He swore that I was the only woman he considered his wife. And when I learned they had no official marriage certificate, I accepted his terms. From that day on, I became his life in Northwood, and Eleanor was his life in Bay City. Over fifty years, we even bore him the same number of children, a boy and a girl each. He was the master of juggling two lives. “…Don’t be a fool, Mom. You call that juggling?” 3 It was Maya again. Her words were always so hard to hear. And they always cut right to the bone. “Do you have any idea how much jewelry she owns? How many apartments, how many limited-edition cars? Do you know how many shares of the company have been funneled to her, openly and secretly?” My lips moved, but no sound came out. “Fine,” Maya said, her voice thick with the frustration she felt on my behalf. “You can say you don’t care about that stuff. But what about his time? In fifty years, you can count on one hand the number of times Dad flew to Northwood to be with you. When Grandma and Grandpa were sick, when they were dying, you were the one who stayed by their bedsides day and night. Did Eleanor Sterling ever bring them a glass of water? A single pill?” “When we were kids, how many people pointed at us and called us bastards, illegitimate… You always said Dad was busy! Yes, he was busy! Busy celebrating a birthday with his other children in Bay City! How many of our birthdays did he come home for? We couldn’t even call him ‘Dad’ unless no one else was around!” Finally, a flicker of pity softened her voice, as if she was afraid of pushing me too far. “And in the end… Mom, she had a wedding of the century, broadcast around the world. Her dress was custom-designed by a master couturier. Her ring was bigger than a quail’s egg. And you?” She paused, her voice barely a whisper. “You have a finger that can never wear a ring again.” I staggered back until my spine hit the cold wall. The dignity I had fought to maintain for fifty years was, in my daughter’s eyes, nothing but a pathetic lie. I could still see the broadcast of that wedding, clear as day, even after all these decades. The air filled with falling petals as Danny, in a perfectly tailored suit, kissed Eleanor. The applause of countless guests. They were a beautiful couple, a perfect match. Beside me on the sofa, Danny’s mother had let out a long, weary sigh and patted my hand, saying nothing. That sigh was more shaming than any curse. Even if Danny swore they would never get a marriage license, that in name, Eleanor and I were the same, what did it matter? He bought her priceless jade at auctions, hosted art exhibitions of her paintings, even cooked for her. The tenderness in his eyes when he looked at her was undeniable. The world said Danny Sterling adored his wife. And I was just a sewer rat, peeking at a happiness that wasn’t mine. I’d fought back, of course. The worst time, I smashed everything in the house I could get my hands on. At first, he was patient. He tried to hold me like he used to, to kiss my broken finger and murmur, “Don’t, Lena… You know you’re the only one in my heart. I could never love her. What is Eleanor Sterling to me? Anything she has, you’ll have too…” But eventually, he stopped saying that. The last time I raged, he stood amidst the wreckage, looking down at me as I sat, disheveled and broken, on the floor. He watched me for a long time, then said softly, “You’re getting old, Lena. What’s the point of all this?” He was right. I was old. My skin had loosened, my waist had thickened, and the lines around my eyes were too deep to hide. And Eleanor, with her expensive beauty treatments, was always perfect, always radiant at the galas, the charity dinners, the international art shows where she was needed. More importantly, I had no way out. He had long since forbidden me from working, slowly clipping the wings that connected me to the outside world. The money he gave me was enough to raise the children, enough to keep up appearances, but never enough for me to have ideas of my own, and certainly not enough to leave and live independently. I was a frog in a pot of slowly boiling water, and I’d been simmering for so long. Eventually, I started to believe it myself. I had to love him. I had to act like I loved him more now than I ever had when I was young. It was the only way to find a reason for this absurd, laughable love, a pillar to keep it from collapsing entirely. Danny’s visits to Northwood grew less and less frequent. But I poured all my energy into caring for his parents, so much so that on their deathbeds, they wept and told me how sorry they were for what I’d endured. I pushed my children relentlessly, my standards for them almost cruel, until they became top performers in their fields. Their success was my greatest medal, proof that my silent suffering had been worth something. 4 Danny’s health took a sharp decline in the spring. A man of his wealth should have had access to the world’s best doctors, to 24/7 private care. He shouldn’t have been in this state. But his son and daughter in Bay City were just waiting for him to die so they could take over his empire. Danny was stubborn and refused to relinquish control. He came to Northwood on his last legs. When I opened the door, he collapsed into my arms. Through five major surgeries, I let no one else near him. I bathed him, fed him his medicine, tended to his every need myself. He wasted away to nothing. In his rare moments of lucidity, he would dictate instructions to his secretary. One day, the secretary mentioned arrangements for his ashes. I suddenly spoke up. “He should come back to Northwood. Come home.” His cloudy eyes turned to me. On a strange impulse, I added, “…I want to be buried with you.” The words were out before I could stop them. I was stunned. The resentment I had buried for fifty years had never truly gone away. If I couldn’t have him exclusively in life, I would bind him to me in death, forever. Danny smiled, a weak, tired thing, and laboriously raised a hand to my face. “…That wouldn’t be fair.” He paused. “My ashes… half and half. Buried in two different places.” “Danny…” I stared at the dying man. “And was it fair to me?” Eleanor and I both had a son and a daughter, all around the same age. But I never told Danny that we should have had three children. Eleanor had always known about me, but Danny had passed me off as a live-in housekeeper. A housekeeper. Someone who would never threaten her position as Mrs. Sterling. Even so, she couldn’t stand the thought of me bearing his child before she did. One day, there was an “accident.” I fell, and started bleeding heavily. Danny wasn’t there. There was no one to even sign the emergency medical forms. I passed out from the pain. I was lucky to survive, but I nearly lost my uterus. I never told anyone about it. It was a scar I carried deep inside. 5 Today was December 6th. Fifty years ago today, Danny emptied his pockets, took me to a jewelry store, and bought me a ring. On that day, with a ring on my finger, I accepted his proposal. In my heart, I married him fifty years ago. That’s why I told my children we’d had a fifty-year marriage. Today should have been our golden anniversary. But there were three people in this marriage. It was too crowded. I wiped away a tear. Maya was right. A golden anniversary like this? I would rather not have it. Today was also the day of Danny’s sixth major surgery. The head surgeon said the risk was extremely high, with only a ten or twenty percent chance of success. But the potential reward was just as great. If it worked, he could recover most of his strength. If it failed, he would die on the operating table. He was with his secretary now, scribbling instructions on a notepad. Soon, the nurses would come to take him away. I don’t know what came over me, but I shouted, “You fell in love with her, didn’t you? You’ve loved Eleanor for a long time!” You just couldn’t admit it to me. He struggled, shaking his head. I laughed through my tears. Even at death’s door, he wouldn’t tell me the truth. My children and I waited outside the operating room. I stared at the floor. Maya came over and put her arm around me. “Don’t worry, Mom. Dad will make it through.” I forced a smile. “I almost wish he wouldn’t.” Then I would finally be free. Six hours. The surgery dragged on. I couldn’t sit still. The longer it took, the greater the risk. Which meant… Suddenly, the doors to the operating room burst open. A doctor rushed toward me. “The patient’s condition has taken a turn! He’s in cardiac arrest! We need to reopen his chest immediately! Where’s the family? We need a signature on the consent form!” A piece of paper was thrust into my hand. My mind went blank. Images of Danny flashed before my eyes—young, old, tender, cold. The tip of the pen hovered over the signature line. My hand was shaking so badly I couldn’t write. “Sign it! Sign it now!” the doctor urged, his voice frantic. “We can’t proceed without a signature! You’re wasting precious time!” Slowly, I put the pen down. “Doctor,” I said, looking up, “there are no direct family members here. I can’t sign this.”

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I was Julian Thorne’s companion for three years. He set many rules for me. No touching him. No crossing the line. He was afraid his “white moonlight”—his childhood sweetheart—would misunderstand. I was cautious, terrified of being thrown back to the poverty-stricken mountains I came from. The day his sweetheart became single again, perhaps to avoid suspicion or simply because I disgusted him, he told his grandfather, Mr. Thorne: “I don’t want Autumn to be my companion anymore.” Terrified of losing my chance at an education, I swore a solemn oath: “I swear, I, Autumn Reed, will never fall in love with Julian Thorne in this lifetime. If I do, may I die a horrible death. Are you satisfied?” Later, that oath trapped him for a lifetime. 1 The Thorne family wanted to pick a companion for Julian from the underprivileged students they sponsored. Mr. Thorne chose me at first glance. At that time, Mr. Thorne was visiting the countryside, and his car got stuck in the mud. I was catching mudfish nearby and went up to help push. Despite my small frame, I was incredibly strong. After we got the car out, I cheekily asked if they wanted to buy my mudfish. Just like that, I was chosen. The day I was brought to the Thorne estate, Julian immediately put me in my place. He pushed a test paper in front of me. “If your IQ isn’t high enough, you don’t deserve to be my companion.” That day, I took a Math Olympiad test for the first time. The questions were interesting, the difficulty average. Seeing me finish in under an hour, Julian was surprised. Sitting in his wheelchair, he started laying down the rules. “I only have three requirements. First, no touching me.” Pushing a wheelchair didn’t require touching him, so that seemed easy enough. “Second, no pitying me.” Looking at his empty pant leg, I nodded solemnly. The Thorne family controlled 40% of the nation’s shipbuilding industry. To say they could turn clouds into rain with a wave of their hand was no exaggeration. Born into such a prominent family, who was I to pity him? “Third, we have an employment relationship. I hope our relationship remains purely professional. Don’t get any funny ideas.” I looked at his sculpted profile in the dappled light, then at my own dusty reflection in the glass cabinet. I understood. He meant a toad shouldn’t dream of eating swan meat. 2 Being a companion meant accompanying Julian through three years of high school. Mr. Thorne said as long as I stayed with Julian, helped him around school, and looked out for him, the Thorne family would cover my future education—whether it was a master’s, a doctorate, or studying abroad. To me, this wasn’t a transaction, but a blessing. The Thorne family gave me clean clothes, a spacious room, and ample time to study. All I had to do was fetch water, run errands, and push Julian’s wheelchair between classes. It was a luxury work-study program. At school, Julian was an eye-catcher. He was exceptionally handsome and the only student in a wheelchair. Even though he dressed and traveled low-key, gazes followed him everywhere. Naturally, classmates were curious about our relationship. One day, after I politely asked Julian for the seventh time if he needed fresh air, the student in front of us turned around. “What exactly is your relationship? You seem close but distant. You can’t be master and servant, right?” Without looking up, Julian replied, “None of your business.” He was always like this—withdrawn, cold, seemingly uninterested in making friends. Oh, wait, not always. Every weekend when he made international video calls, his mood would turn from cloudy to sunny. I didn’t know who made him so happy. 3 At school, besides taking care of Julian, I buried my head in books. I didn’t socialize much. Gradually, Julian and I became known as the odd duo. Some called us “The Crippled Prince and his Country Bumpkin Follower.” Yes, my accent, my sun-darkened skin, my whole aura screamed “rural.” It didn’t matter. I didn’t care. But the “Crippled Prince” remark led to a fight between me and the strongest guy in the sports class. That day, I was pushing Julian out of school. A jock holding a basketball sneered, “Yo, isn’t that the crippled prince and his bumpkin sidekick?” I stopped and glared at him coldly. Julian didn’t even look at the guy. He just said to me, “Ignore him. Let’s go.” The jock laughed loudly. “Keep pretending, you little coward.” Julian reminded me again, “Let’s go.” I didn’t leave. Instead, I walked straight up to the guy and punched him. Yes, a punch, not a slap. I jumped up and hit him on the right cheek. I was strong. He stumbled back several steps, clutching his face, stunned. I dropped a threat: “Keep running your mouth and I’ll hit you every time I see you!” The driver, waiting in the distance, said he finally understood why Mr. Thorne chose me. However, Julian wasn’t grateful. His evaluation was: “Reckless, impulsive, stupid.” He said arguing with low-class people lowered one’s status; using physical violence against verbal violence invited trouble. But what civilization can you discuss with uncivilized people? I retorted, “He insulted you, he deserved it.” In the car, Julian was silent for a long time before speaking slowly: “Autumn, we have an employment relationship. Don’t bring personal emotions into it.” I knew what he was reminding me of. 4 There were many such reminders and warnings later. Two instances left the deepest impression. Once, I went to his study to borrow an Agatha Christie collection. There, I saw a photo of him surfing. Spirited, smiling brightly. Involuntarily, I looked at where his right leg should be. Strong, powerful, tanned. When Julian coughed behind me, I jumped and hurriedly put the photo back. He looked at me, his voice cold. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I said, no pity.” That time, I nodded furiously. Another time was accompanying him to a music festival. Usually, he was gloomy and silent, locking himself in his room or the music studio. But at that festival, he transformed. Seeing him DJing on stage in his wheelchair completely overturned my perception. The powerful electronic beats, synced with his finger movements, pounded against my heart. He raised his arms confidently to welcome the cheers. The breath of youth, the vigor of life. Hot and passionate; broken yet resilient. I admit, my heart skipped a beat. But—I knew my place. The Little Prince says: “You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.” And that “One runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets oneself be tamed.” I didn’t want to weep. Besides, he set the rule: no funny ideas. I promised him. As I was giving myself a pep talk, he came off stage. Taking the water bottle I handed him, his fingers brushed mine. The warm touch made my face heat up uncontrollably. Julian keenly caught my reaction. This time, he was blunt: “Why are you blushing? Don’t get any ideas about me. I have someone I like, and she’s coming back soon.”

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At the company gala, Finn, an intern, tossed a half-eaten scallop from his plate directly into his fiancée’s bowl. She picked it up and ate it without a second thought. That night, I tore our merger agreement into shreds and threw it in the trash. She took off her glasses, her face etched with exhaustion. “Over a single scallop?” “He gave it to you after he’d already taken a bite.” Sophia Walter scoffed. “Ethan Cole, I never realized you were so petty.” “Fine,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Let’s call off the wedding. Just don’t you dare come crawling back to me.” She was convinced I was so deeply in love with her that I could never let go. But I just smiled. “Deal. And whoever comes crawling back is a dog.” 01 The very next day, I asked my parents to find a new family for our corporate alliance. They were surprised but didn’t press for details, respecting my decision. As expected, Sophia initiated a cold war. Blocking my number, deleting me from her socials, cutting off all contact—she moved through the steps with the cold precision of a practiced routine. She was certain that, just like every other time, I would be the one to break the silence and come back to her. But this time, as I stared at the familiar friend request notification on my screen, I finally let it fade away without hitting ‘accept.’ A week later, a notification popped up in the company-wide group chat: “Tonight is Ms. Walter’s birthday celebration. Attendance is mandatory for all employees.” I went, if only to avoid making a scene. Pushing open the door to the private dining room, the first thing I saw was Sophia at the head of the table, with Finn leaning in so close his lips were practically brushing her ear. They were murmuring to each other, lost in a world of their own, a bubble no one else could penetrate. As they laughed, they leaned even closer, their faces a breath away from a kiss. I tore my gaze away, found a seat in the corner, and started drinking alone. Colleagues began presenting their gifts one by one, but I remained motionless. Eventually, a shadow fell over me. I looked up into Sophia’s beautiful face, now marred by a flicker of annoyance. “Ethan. Where’s my present?” In the past, I would have spent months preparing for this day. I once spent weeks meticulously building her a scale model of Howl’s Moving Castle, the one that actually walked. When the gears turned and smoke curled from its tiny chimneys, she had squeezed my hand and whispered, “We’ll be just like Sophie and Howl, finding our forever home in each other.” I believed her then. I never imagined her ‘forever’ wouldn’t even last three years. “I forgot,” I said, my voice flat. Sophia’s face darkened. “How long are you going to keep this up? Are you really this upset over such a small thing?” My eyes drifted to her lipstick, smeared slightly where Finn’s face had been. A wave of nausea rolled through me. “I’m not trying to make a scene. I’m serious about calling off the engagement.” Her expression froze for a fraction of a second, but she regained her composure the moment Finn’s hand found hers under the table. “Ethan, don’t misunderstand,” Finn explained softly, the picture of innocence. “I just didn’t want it to go to waste. If it bothers you that much, I can just wait until everyone’s finished eating at the next dinner.” His words instantly ignited Sophia’s protective instincts. “Finn, you deserve the best! The one who should leave is Ethan. Who does he think he is?” Finn walked over and patted my shoulder. “Come on, Ethan. Be the bigger man. Sophia hasn’t been sleeping well these past few days. I know you two have your differences, but you’re still engaged…” I swatted his hand away, a cold laugh escaping my lips. “You know what I admire most about you, Finn?” “You can play the victim and the villain at the same time, all while shamelessly hitting on another man’s fiancée.” The smile froze on Finn’s face. Sophia was instantly furious. “Ethan, how dare you slander him!” “Slander? Then why don’t you explain why every gift you’ve ever given me, he has an identical one? Why is it that every time we fight, he’s the one who makes sure the whole office knows about it? And how the hell does he know about the small scar high on your thigh—” “Enough!” The sharp crack of a slap echoed through the room. My left ear rang, and my vision swam. The only thing in focus was the sea of faces around me, their expressions a mix of pity and scorn, all directed at me. The ringing slowly subsided. It was replaced by Sophia’s voice, loud and clear, ringing with defiance. “From this day forward, I want everyone to like the photos of me and Finn together. Once we hit one thousand likes, I’m calling off this stupid engagement and marrying him instead.” Without another word, she grabbed Finn’s hand and stormed out of the room. As they passed me, Finn shot me a look of pure, undisguised triumph. After they left, the room began to empty. A sneering voice drifted back to me. “Served him right for pretending to be so magnanimous. He played his hand and lost. Too late for regrets now.” A colleague I was closer with leaned in and whispered, “Ethan, your pride isn’t worth it. Just go apologize. You can’t let her do something crazy in the heat of the moment…” I knew exactly what this was. Another test, another power play designed to make me bend. But this time, I wasn’t going to fold. Not even if it killed me. The once-boisterous room fell silent until I was the only one left. I picked up a half-full bottle of whiskey from the table and drained it, the fiery liquid scorching a path down my throat and into my stomach, the burn so intense it brought tears to my eyes. Nearly twenty years of my life had been tied to her. Cutting the cord, it turned out, just felt like this. Fine. I would accept the family’s new arrangement, move thousands of miles away to Bayside City for a new alliance, a new partnership. Far enough away that she could never bother me again. I didn’t know why, but my face was wet and cold again. Back at my apartment, I started to pack. Sophia and I were childhood sweethearts; most of my life was interwoven with hers. The place was filled with too many things, each one a hook pulling at a memory. This faded red paper flower. Her first prize in kindergarten. She had toddled over to me, her little legs churning, and placed it reverently in my palm. “Ethan, you get the best things!” This yellowed photograph. Her face flushed beet-red the day she got her first period. Having skipped health class, she thought she was dying and ran to me to deliver her last will and testament, telling me to find a girlfriend who wasn’t as pretty as her. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Once I figured out what was happening, I sprinted to the corner drugstore to buy pads. We sat together, puzzling over the instruction manual. I teased her for not paying attention in class, and she bit my arm in frustration. Strangely, it didn’t hurt. Instead, a secret, sweet warmth spread through my chest. After that, getting together was the most natural thing in the world. Different colleges meant four long years of long-distance. The thick stack of train tickets I’d saved was a testament to the hundred and twenty thousand miles I’d traveled for her. Back then, her world revolved around me. She would have crossed oceans for me without a single complaint. My fingers brushed against a small, hard box. Inside, a pair of simple, matching rings we had made together lay nestled in velvet. For her, I had moved back to this city without a moment’s hesitation after graduation. The day I returned, she dragged me to a jewelry workshop to forge these rings. She slid one onto my finger, her eyes sparkling. “Ethan Cole, you’re mine now. Trapped for life. Don’t even think about running away.” We both believed it then. That the sincerity of a vow spoken in a moment of pure love was enough to make it eternal. We never imagined she would be the first one to let go. The day Finn interviewed at the company, he was terrible. Sophia made no secret of her disdain. I, too, dismissed the applicant who lacked both the qualifications and the skills. But somehow, against all odds, he was hired as an intern. My real alarm bells started ringing when I saw the ring—our ring, the one that was supposed to be uniquely ours—on Finn’s finger. At first, when I confronted her, Sophia was patient, coaxing me with soft words and explanations. But soon, her patience wore thin, replaced by irritation. My constant willingness to forgive, to endure, to please her, only emboldened her favoritism toward Finn. The menu for company dinners was tailored exclusively to his tastes. He only had to show up to the office for half a day each week, spending the rest of his time with Sophia. Meanwhile, all his menial intern duties were unceremoniously dumped on me. She started bringing him up more and more often. It began as unconscious admiration, but soon she was openly comparing me to him, complaining that I wasn’t romantic enough, that my words weren’t sweet enough. Then came the day at a company coffee break. Sophia was raving about the milk tea she’d ordered. Finn leaned in and said he wanted a taste. Without a second thought, she offered him her cup, straw and all. He took a long drink, his lips touching the faint trace of her lipstick on the straw. What made my chest tighten was how she took it back and, completely unfazed, continued drinking from the very same straw. In that instant, it felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my heart, a sour, suffocating pressure that made it hard to breathe. From then on, Finn’s transgressions as an “intern” became unstoppable. He’d help with her skincare routine, personally applying lotion to her hands. When she sprained her ankle, he ignored me standing right beside her, hoisting her onto his back and rushing her to the infirmary. She even cancelled my birthday celebration, a dinner I had been planning for weeks, because Finn had a minor cold. Every time I expressed my displeasure, Sophia would lash out impatiently. “Ethan, you see the worst in everything! He’s just an intern, what could possibly happen between us? Stop projecting your own dirty thoughts onto everyone else!” But as time went on, the conviction in her voice began to waver. The final blow came during a major industry gala. The invitation explicitly stated to bring a partner. She went with Finn, without even telling me. I only found out after several people asked if we had broken up. When I confronted her, she was angrier than I was. “I took him so he could network and learn! Don’t interns need to learn? You’re a grown man, Ethan. Can you stop being so insecure?” We didn’t speak for a long time after that, so long that I thought it was truly the end. Then, late one night, a message from her popped up: “Honey, my stomach hurts so much…” And just like that, the wall of cold indifference I had tried so hard to build crumbled into dust. The terrible cycle began anew: I would confront her, she would get angry, I would back down and appease her, and she would forgive me. I snapped the ring box shut and threw it into the trash. In the deepest corner of a drawer, I found an apology note she had written me when she was eighteen, all because she had missed one of my texts. Back then, she truly cared. Now, the only person she had eyes for was the intern. I took out the yellowed letter, tore it into tiny pieces, and let them flutter into the garbage can. With decades of our shared history now cleared out, the apartment felt vast and empty. It felt like my heart had been hollowed out along with it. In the company group chat, photos of Finn celebrating Sophia’s birthday were flooding the feed. Colleagues, all too aware of Sophia’s preferences, were tripping over themselves to shower them with praise. “Ms. Walter and Finn are so cute together!” “Every girl needs a boyfriend like Finn. He’s so warm and attentive, not like Mr. Cole who always has a sour face on.” “Finn’s just an intern and he takes such good care of Ms. Walter. Now that’s what you call effort…” I couldn’t bear to look anymore. I picked up my phone and called my lawyer. “I want to pull all of my investments from the Walter Corporation.” The next day, I returned to the office to collect my personal belongings. I pushed open the door to my private lounge. And there was Finn, feet kicked up on my desk, wearing a pair of baggy shorts. His personal effects were strewn across the entire room. My things were piled in a heap in the hallway outside the door. Sophia had designed this lounge specifically for me. Everyone in the company knew it was my sanctuary, a place no one dared to enter without permission. What Finn was doing now was no different from dancing on my grave. I didn’t waste my breath arguing with him. I just took out my phone and called the police. In the mediation room at the station, Finn looked flustered. “I was just getting a file for Sophia. Did you really have to call the cops?” “That is my private space. Did I give you permission to enter?” “Entering without asking is called theft.” Finn didn’t argue, but his eyes suddenly welled with tears. I immediately sensed something was wrong. I turned, and sure enough, Sophia was standing behind me, her face a mask of cold fury. “Sophia!” Finn cried, practically throwing himself into her arms. “I was really just trying to get that file for you… I think Ethan really hates me. He’s insisting I’m a thief… My apartment is already overflowing with the gifts you’ve given me, why would I ever want any of his things?” This small room had once been my refuge. It was a gift from her after I built her the castle model. We had made so many memories here. I thought, at the very least, this place would be the last shred of dignity our relationship had left, a sanctuary that would remain untainted. But Sophia, with her own hands, had just shattered that final illusion. She stroked Finn’s back comfortingly, then turned to the officer. “It’s a misunderstanding. We’re all friends here. Sorry to have troubled you.” Then, her gaze fell on me, her voice dripping with ice and disgust. “Ethan, what has gotten into you? Acting like a bitter, jealous spouse, using your position to bully an intern. Does that make you feel powerful? You are a profound disappointment.” The accusations rained down on me. Before I could even speak, Finn chimed in again, his voice thick with a sob. “Sophia, don’t blame Ethan. It was my fault… It’s okay, I can go to jail for a few days. I don’t mind people laughing at me, as long as you two don’t fight because of me…” Sophia squeezed his hand, her eyes filled with pity. “Finn, you’re just too kind. That’s why people always take advantage of you.” She turned back to me, her tone hardening. “Ethan. Apologize to Finn. Now.” “He’s the one who trespassed in my private space. You want me to apologize to him, and you think he’s the one who’s been wronged?” The moment the words left my mouth, Finn’s quiet sobs started up again on cue. Sophia let out a cold laugh. “Your private space? Don’t forget, that lounge is property of the Walter Corporation. This entire building is mine. You only have permission to use it. And if you continue with this attitude, I have no problem pressing charges against you for filing a false report.” With that, she led Finn away to finalize the paperwork. Her words were like an icy drill, boring straight into my heart. A sharp pain, one I thought I was already numb to, flared up again. All these years, I had poured everything I had into supporting her company, thinking I was building our future together. And in the end, all I got was—You only have permission to use it. Before leaving, Sophia delivered her final warning. “By the way, the like count is at 990. If you don’t change your attitude, I will actually go and marry Finn.” I looked at Finn, who was hiding behind her, his eyes glinting with contempt. In that moment, the full, pathetic scope of my situation became clear. His tactics had always been clumsy. A woman as smart as Sophia couldn’t possibly have missed them. She had simply chosen to allow it. The scales in her heart had tipped long ago. This whole charade was nothing more than a play she and Finn had orchestrated to get rid of me, the inconvenient obstacle. And I was the fool who had kept begging for scraps. With that realization, the last embers of affection I held for Sophia were finally extinguished. In the days leading up to my move to Bayside City, a few gleeful colleagues kept messaging me. “994 likes! Your fiancée is about to be gone for good if you don’t wise up!” “Tsk tsk, 997! Looks like you’re destined to be alone, buddy.” “Wow, you’re really holding out this time, huh? Or are you just scared you can’t compete with Finn, so you’re running away with your tail between your legs? Haha!” I blocked and deleted them one by one, ignoring the taunts. When the like count stalled at 999 and I still hadn’t made a move, the atmosphere around Sophia grew dangerously cold. No one in the office dared to cast that final vote. Just as she was plotting her next move to force my hand, someone burst into her office. “Ms. Walter! The 1000th like… it’s done!”

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My online boyfriend had a weird thing for… let’s call it corporate larping. When his mom called him home for dinner, he’d text me: “Returning to the estate to dine with the matriarch.” I caught on fast. So when my friends were short one player for poker night, I messaged the group: “It’s a meeting of the scions. The game doesn’t start until I arrive.” My online boyfriend totally got it. I always thought we were just a couple of weirdos playing a game. Until, just before the holidays, he added me to his childhood friends’ group chat. “These are the guys I grew up with,” he said. “They wanted to meet you.” I tapped open the member list, and my blood ran cold. Why was the stone-faced, ultra-serious CEO of my company in this group chat? His nickname: Adrian’s Loyal Puppy. Oh. My online boyfriend’s name was Adrian. A moment later, the CEO tagged me in the chat. [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: @UrbanFatigue Sis-in-law! Say something! [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: cute_cat.jpg I couldn’t move. I literally could not move a muscle. Weren’t we just playing a game? How are you guys for real?! 1 To be honest, the moment Adrian pulled me into that group chat, my spidey-senses were tingling. It was a small group, just four of them, and they were deep in conversation, so they didn’t notice me at first. I scrolled through their recent messages, a thoughtful frown on my face. [Max]: It’s winter. We should hit Zermatt for some skiing. I lost to Leo last year, and I need a rematch! [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: You couldn’t beat me last year, what makes you think this year’s any different? 😉 [Sam_ing]: Can’t. Taking my fiancée to St. Barts for the holidays (sigh). [Max]: Oof. Good luck, man. That fiancée of yours is a handful. I stared at my phone, tapping my chin. Something was off. Something was very, very off. Why did all these names sound so familiar? Especially the guy whose screen name was “Adrian’s Loyal Puppy”… Leo. The name Leo was familiar, but his profile picture—a shot of him mid-air on a snowboard—was even more familiar. Just as I was racking my brain, they finally noticed me. [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: Whoa, we got a new member!! [Adrian]: Everyone, this is my girlfriend. He tagged my username, @UrbanFatigue. The chat went silent for two beats, then exploded. [Max]: Sis-in-law! [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: Sis-in-law! [Sam_ing]: Sis-in-law! [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: FINALLY! We’ve been bugging you for ages, Ade, and you finally let us meet her! [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: I’m dying of curiosity. Who is this goddess who finally managed to capture our boy Adrian’s heart?! A blush crept up my neck. Adrian and I had been dating online for over two years, but this was the first time I’d had any contact with his friends. I was about to type something back when my eyes caught on “Adrian’s Loyal Puppy’s” profile picture again. My fingers froze over the keyboard. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew where I’d seen that face. My brain buzzed. I immediately swiped out of the chat and opened my company’s internal website. After a frantic search through the archives, I found it. A photo from three months ago, when our company finalized a major international partnership. There he was. A young man in a tailored suit, his expression severe and unsmiling as he stood beside the foreign executives, radiating an aura of pure power. I stared at the caption below the photo. The name “Leo Guillory” jumped out at me. Leo Guillory. The CEO of my company, Stratos Tech. And the only son of its founder. Ah… Ah? The chat was buzzing again. [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: @UrbanFatigue Your username is hilarious, sis-in-law, lmao. [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: So how did you and Adrian meet? [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: C’mon, sis-in-law, say something! [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: curious_cat.jpg 2 The curious cat GIF just spun and spun. I frantically sent a generic waving emoji and exited the app. With trembling hands, I opened my private chat with Adrian and tried to sound casual. “Babe, your ‘loyal puppy’ friend looks kinda familiar.” He replied instantly. “He’s a bit hyper. Did he overwhelm you?” “His name is Leo Guillory. He’s the CEO of Stratos Tech. Your line of work is pretty broad, maybe you’ve crossed paths with him before.” My mind was a complete mess. While texting Adrian back, I started googling the other names from the group chat. And the last bit of hope I was clinging to finally died. Max Sterling, youngest son of real estate tycoon Robert Sterling, currently studying in the US. Sam Chen, second son of the founder of South Sea Construction, a bona fide trust fund kid… My brain shut down. My fingers, moving on their own, typed Adrian’s name into the search bar. The results popped up instantly. Adrian Guillory, eldest grandson of the founder of Guillory Holdings, youngest board member of the group, a driving force behind the company’s tech innovations, with a net worth of… I counted the zeros. Then I sucked in a sharp breath and nearly passed out. In the group chat, “Adrian’s Loyal Puppy” was still going. [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: Sis-in-law, c’mon, how did you two meet? [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: I’m dying here, spill the tea! [Adrian]: We met online. How do you think we met? Online. [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: Could you perhaps elaborate… 3 Online dating: proceed with caution. For the first time, I truly understood the weight of that warning. I met Adrian after stumbling upon a help forum post. [User]: “Help, why is one hot dog three dollars, but two hot dogs are five dollars?” I thought the poster was hilarious, so I commented, “I bet you also don’t know the first thing you’re supposed to do after signing up for the $9.99 premium membership.” He replied almost immediately. “YES! I got that one wrong too!” He called me brilliant. A genius. In my 24 unremarkable years of life, I had never been praised so directly. I was instantly intrigued, and we started chatting. Eventually, we exchanged numbers. We weren’t super close at first, until he noticed I was playing a popular mobile game. He asked, “Is it fun?” I replied enthusiastically, “So fun! You should play! I can carry you, I’m a pro.” “Okay, I’ll set up an account… I’m familiar with the genre, but I’ve never actually played this one. I might be terrible, so don’t get mad.” We played together for three months. His skills were average, but his attitude was top-tier. He never raged, his voice was amazing, and he was emotionally stable. And he could actually form coherent sentences! My crush on him grew exponentially, and I decided to make my move. After Adrian and I made it official, our chats became much more relaxed. I have to admit, the guy was my perfect match. Except for one thing. Sometimes, the way he talked was… abstract. His mom called him for dinner: “Returning to the estate to dine with the matriarch.” A friend of his was a public servant: “A colleague in the political sector. It’s inconvenient for him to join our gatherings.” He turned down an arranged date: “I’m not interested in a familial alliance.” I learned. And I quickly began to apply the lesson. My friends needed a fourth for poker: “It’s a meeting of the scions. The game doesn’t start until I arrive.” I was going to a concert for my favorite idol: “Visiting a young protégé I’ve been sponsoring for some time.” I ordered food delivery: “Reviewing a high-risk venture with my partners in the digital culinary space.” Adrian was deeply impressed. “It seems our lifestyles are quite similar.” I sent a “cheers” emoji. “We’re a match made in heaven.” I genuinely thought Adrian and I were just a couple of weirdos with a shared abstract humor. It never occurred to me to doubt him. Until today. My entire worldview has collapsed. Wait a second. Was I the only one playing a game? How are you guys actually this rich and powerful?! 4 I was still staring blankly at my phone when my coworker, Chloe, poked me. “Mia, still on your phone?” She leaned in close. “Rumor has it the CEO might be doing a surprise inspection of our department today,” she whispered. “No idea when, so you’d better not get caught.” Chloe and I started at the company around the same time. Besides us, our department was mostly made up of people with overseas degrees or family connections. Naturally, we banded together for survival. She knew my background was modest and that getting a job at Stratos Tech had been a huge struggle for me. If a manager saw me slacking off, I’d get my pay docked at best. At worst, I’d be on the chopping block for the next round of layoffs. Chloe’s warning was a kindness. I snapped back to reality. The CEO? That’s Leo. Buzz. Buzz. My phone vibrated with a new notification from the group chat. It was Leo. [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: Gotta go, duty calls. [Sam_ing]: Where you going? You coming back for dinner? [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: Got to do a walkthrough of the departments today. My dad’s orders, can’t skip it. [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: @UrbanFatigue We’ll chat later, sis-in-law! [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: I’ll treat you to dinner sometime! [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: cute_cat.jpg [Sam_ing]: Aren’t you right near the office anyway? [Adrian’s Loyal Puppy]: Yeah, five minutes away. Gotta run. Ten minutes later, I saw him in person. The lively, goofy guy from the internet had transformed into a revered prince, surrounded by his court. Leo was dressed in an impeccable suit, not a single hair out of place. He was flanked by several managers, moving slowly down the hallway. His expression was cool and distant. My supervisors, usually so arrogant, were practically bowing before him… fawning, sycophantic. Leo didn’t linger in the marketing department. His gaze didn’t fall on me for even a fraction of a second. To people like him, we lived in completely different worlds. Wasting their attention on us would be just that: a waste. He was like that. Which meant Adrian was on another level entirely. In that moment, I understood the chasm that separated me from them. 5 So I made a decisive choice: I had to break up with him. 6 It was better to cut my losses now than to be found out later, face the combined wrath of several powerful families, lose my job, lose my dignity, and get blacklisted from the entire industry. This job was hard-won, and I cherished it. These rich kids had no shortage of girlfriends. If I broke up with Adrian, he probably wouldn’t even care that much. It was just a bit of fun, right? But people who have been pampered their whole lives definitely don’t take kindly to being deceived. Even though I truly hadn’t meant to deceive anyone. The quirky little girl who loved playing games had been quietly shattered. I stewed on it for a few days, then started intentionally picking fights with Adrian. My behavior grew increasingly unreasonable. At first, he would patiently try to soothe me, but eventually, even he couldn’t take it anymore. “Babe, is something wrong? Did something happen recently?” “You don’t seem like yourself. You can talk to me about anything (hug).” My eyes lit up. This was my chance! “You think I’m emotionally unstable?” I shot back, full of righteous anger. “What are you trying to say?” [Adrian]: ? “Fine. I get it. You’re tired of me,” I typed. “Let’s just end it. We’re done.” After sending the message, I executed a flawless block-delete-remove SIM card maneuver. With this major threat neutralized, I sat alone in my empty room, nursing a broken heart. Ugh… damn it. Why couldn’t Adrian just be a little bit poor? He had a great personality, was kind, and ridiculously handsome. I really, really liked him. But then, a sense of resignation washed over me. His wonderful personality was probably a direct result of his privileged upbringing. 7 The breakup left me in a funk. Even my coworker Chloe noticed something was off. “Mia, what’s wrong?” I sighed. “We broke up.” She gave me a surprised look, then silently patted my shoulder in sympathy. I picked up a file, ready to lose myself in work, when my team lead called out. “Mia, you don’t look too busy. Go downstairs and get me a coffee.” I rolled my eyes. Again with this. In our department, Chloe and I were the only ones without connections, making us the designated errand runners. Seeing my gloomy mood, Chloe offered, “I can go.” “Don’t worry about it.” I slowly got to my feet. “I could use the fresh air.” I floated down to the lobby like a ghost, picked up the coffee, and was heading back when the private elevator doors opened. Leo and his entourage stepped out. I quickly moved aside. “Mr. Guillory!” Someone rushed up from behind him, completely oblivious to me standing there. He slammed into my shoulder, and the coffee went flying all over him. The entire lobby went silent. I recognized the man: Mark, the head of the marketing department. “Mia!” he screeched, furious. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Leo shot him an impassive look. “You bumped into her.” Mark choked on his words and fell silent. Leo’s gaze fell on the dark stain spreading across Mark’s shirt, his expression one of pure disgust. “Go home and change.” Mark nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course. Then I’ll just…” “We have a meeting with Guillory Holdings today. It’s time-sensitive. I don’t have time to wait for you to change your clothes.” Leo’s eyes shifted, landing on my employee badge. “Marketing Department. Mia.” He pointed a casual finger at me. “You’re coming with us. It’s just for note-taking.” “I remember your project proposal. Your work is solid.” The name “Guillory Holdings” was still ringing in my ears as I was swept up by the group and bundled into a car. 8 Guillory Holdings wasn’t close. The drive took forty minutes, and I spent all forty of them in a daze. The woman sitting next to me must have noticed my anxiety. She leaned over and whispered, “Don’t worry. Our Mr. Guillory and their Mr. Guillory are good friends. This partnership is a sure thing. We’re just going through the motions…” Just going through the motions. I’d just be a background prop, standing behind everyone else. No one would even notice me! I repeated this mantra to myself until my racing heart finally started to calm down. When we arrived at the Guillory Holdings building, Leo’s phone rang. He motioned for us to wait and stepped a few feet away. Unfortunately for me, I have excellent hearing. His voice carried clearly. “He’s been in a really bad mood lately…” “Ran into some kind of scammer…” “I don’t know the details, something about millions of dollars. I was going to tell him to call the police…” My blood ran cold. I couldn’t stop myself from shouting, “What?!” In an instant, every head turned to stare at me. I froze, then with lightning-fast reflexes, I slapped my phone to my ear. “What? The signal’s terrible over here! Hello? Oh, well! I’ll just call you back!” The other executives looked at me with open disdain, whispering among themselves. “So unprofessional.” “No sense of decorum…” “These new hires really need more training.” I didn’t care what they were saying. My mind was consumed by Leo’s words. Scammed out of millions?! Who?! Me?! I swear on my life, I never took a single cent from Adrian during our entire online relationship! Who was spreading these vicious rumors? This was slander! My heart was pounding like a drum. In my state of shock, Leo had already finished his call. We walked into the Guillory Holdings building. Guilt-ridden, I stealthily pulled a mask out of my pocket and put it on. Leo happened to turn around right then and jumped. “Where did you get that?” “I have a bit of a cold,” I mumbled. “Don’t want to get Mr. Guillory sick.” Leo was silent for a long moment. “…And you think my immune system is just fine?” The group around me silently took a step back, creating a perimeter. I was about to say something to ease the tension when Leo’s gaze landed on someone in the distance. A wide grin spread across his face. “Adrian!” I froze, then slowly turned my head. My pupils contracted. This was the first time I had ever truly seen Adrian. He was even more striking in person than in the photos I’d seen online. He had to be at least six-foot-one, with broad shoulders and long legs. He was wearing a simple black shirt and black, half-rimmed glasses. His features were sharp, his eyes piercing. He radiated an intense, elite aura. He walked past me without a second glance, his eyes on Leo. “You’re here? Let’s go. My office.” His voice was deep and smooth. Exactly like it sounded through my phone. I stared at his back, completely dazed. Only five words echoed in my mind. I’m screwed. He’s my type.

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I sent my crush a “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” and “Good night” text every single day, right on schedule. Three months into chasing him, he finally cracked and bombarded me with messages. “Jane, are you a bot?” I looked at the message on my phone screen, thought for a moment, and replied: “Press 1 to unlock Wifey Mode.” 1. [Good night.] After finishing a long day of video shooting, I picked up my phone and sent my usual message to my crush. Work ended late today, so it was already past midnight. Ever since I confessed my feelings to him, he hadn’t replied to a single message. Sleepiness washed over me. Just as I snuggled under the covers, my phone started buzzing incessantly. [Your ‘Good night’ is exactly two hours, eighteen minutes, and thirty-six seconds later than yesterday!] [Are you texting other men?] [Was it all a lie when you said you only liked me?] [Reply to me right now! Immediately!] [Who chases someone by only sending three generic greetings a day?!] [Jane, are you a bot?] I groggily unlocked my phone. Through my half-asleep haze, I only really processed the last line. I thought for a moment. [Press 1 to unlock Wifey Mode.] The phone went silent instantly. I watched the “Typing…” bubble appear and disappear three whole times before a message finally came through. [R… really?] [1] 2. When I opened my eyes again, it was 1:00 PM the next day. I checked my phone and found someone had been messaging me all night. [If that’s the case, I’ve actually been working on my abs recently. They’re not bad.] [Never mind, this isn’t appropriate.] [Actually, I don’t really want to show them that much.] [You brought it up, I didn’t say I had to show you.] [Why aren’t you replying… did you change your mind?] [Jane, you did this on purpose!] [I hate you. I’m ignoring you!] The man on the other end had clearly stayed up all night. He texted from 1:00 AM until 6:00 AM. Looking at the wall of text, I was dumbfounded. I’m doomed. What on earth did I reply with in my sleep last night? I met Sawyer in a mobile MOBA game. I was playing a mage, and he, playing an invisible assassin, hunted me down the entire match. My final score was 1-26-0. The worst part? My teammates reported me for feeding, and my credit score dropped. Furious, I added him as a friend. [Mage isn’t my main.] [1v1 me in three days if you dare. I’ll destroy you!] He replied with a question mark. [Then who played the 4,000 mage games on your profile?] [Don’t worry about it! Do you accept the challenge or not?] He was silent for a long time. [Accepted.] 3. I successfully added him on text. He agreed to play the mage for our duel. Three days later, we met in the game as agreed. I picked the assassin I had been practicing furiously for 72 hours. I was confident. “Prepare to lose,” I trash-talked over the voice chat. Ten minutes later. I was crying like a boiling kettle. “How is this possible!” “I practiced for three whole days!” The man on the other end sighed. After staying silent, he finally spoke, his tone full of resignation. “Four thousand games and you’re still in Platinum tier. I didn’t know someone could actually be this bad.” “For only three days of practice, you did okay.” “Stop crying. I’ll carry you in ranked mode, okay?” His voice was shockingly attractive. As someone with a voice fetish, I was instantly hooked. I immediately created a lobby and invited him. In just one week, he carried me to the highest rank. We gradually got to know each other. He said his name was Sawyer. I laughed and said he had the same name as a current top-tier pop star. He didn’t respond, just encouraged me to quit my job and pursue my dream of being a beauty influencer. We often stayed on calls until midnight. But sometimes he was weird and would hang up abruptly. One day, I finally mustered the courage to confess to him. I hesitated for a long time. Although we had been connected for a while, he never posted a single photo. How could a truly handsome guy resist posting photos? What if he just had a nice voice but was actually a neckbeard living in a basement? Fine, then we’d just never meet in person! [Do you want to date? The kind where we never meet in real life.] He replied instantly. [?] [Never meet? Am I unpresentable?] I hesitated and made up a hurried excuse. But he never replied after that. I didn’t know what else to say, so I just started sending “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” and “Good night” every day. This went on for three months. I thought he had blocked me long ago. Now, looking at the screen full of frantic messages, I was dizzy. I sent a tentative reply. [I was half-asleep yesterday and typing nonsense. Don’t take it seriously.] He replied immediately. [I didn’t take it seriously!] [Let’s meet up.] I stared at the words “meet up” for a long time, unable to react. Meet up? How could we? What if he’s a 300-pound, greasy middle-aged man? Not only would his image in my heart be ruined, but what if he saw me—a naturally gorgeous beauty—and refused to let me leave? Online flirting is fine, but offline meetings are dangerous. Seeing I hadn’t replied for a while, he seemed anxious. [You talk about liking me, but you’re scared to meet?] Damn man. He knows I can’t resist a challenge. [Let’s meet!] 4. I pulled the most expensive dress out of my closet. I did my makeup flawlessly. In my head, I was already picturing a dramatic scene where a man falls to his knees at the sight of my beauty. But thinking about reality made me nervous. I opened my drawer and tossed a canister of pepper spray into my bag. I took a taxi to the restaurant. I tiptoed to the entrance and peeked inside. A message popped up. [I’m here. In the corner booth.] But he didn’t say left or right. I was about to ask, but stopped myself. I couldn’t let him know I was here yet. I needed to scout the situation. I looked into the restaurant. In the far right corner sat a man wearing a black baseball cap and a black mask. I couldn’t see his face at all. I looked to the left. That man was short, looked about thirty, and his face was shining with grease under the lights. I closed my eyes. It’s over. That has to be him. What normal person shows up to a first date wearing a hat and mask indoors? So, the other one must be him! I hesitated at the door for a long time. Just as I decided to make a run for it, a hand reached out from behind and tapped my shoulder. I screamed internally. My hand was already in my bag. I whipped out the pepper spray and unleashed a cloud on the man behind me. I heard a miserable groan. Before he could react, I dived into a taxi across the street. “Drive! Go!” The engine roared. I could vaguely hear someone calling my name from behind, but I curled up in the back seat, too terrified to look back. After getting home and calming down, I finally built up the courage to check my phone. [Jane, you played me!] [We agreed to meet, why did you leave?] [You said you liked me, and now you flirt and run?] The wall of messages gave me a headache. I could only make up a lie to stabilize him. [Today was awful. I ran into a pervert at the restaurant entrance.] [I promise I’ll meet you next time!] The man seemed skeptical. He replied slowly: [Really?] I sent a nodding cat GIF immediately. After all, I still needed him to carry me in the game. Suddenly, an email popped up on my work computer. It was an invitation to a major televised makeup competition. I couldn’t believe a big show like this would invite a small-time beauty blogger like me. Suspicious, I opened the invite, my hand trembling on the mouse. It was real! I immediately took a screenshot and sent it to Sawyer. Followed by a smug emoji. [See? I told you my skills are undeniable. You have to watch on time when I’m on the show.] A voice message came back instantly. “Okay, okay, I promise to watch on time.” The tone was doting, making my imagination run wild. If he wasn’t an old uncle, but a tall, handsome guy with an eight-pack… that wouldn’t be so bad.

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