Category: English

The day after I found out I was pregnant, my husband Shane’s entire family descended on our house. They brought groceries, tonics, and a whole lot of unsolicited advice on how to “keep the baby safe.” In the middle of the chaos, Shane’s nephew, Tyler, took a shine to my dog, Bear. He was hugging him tight, not letting go. He asked me, “Auntie, how old is the puppy brother?” I smiled and told him, “Well, if you want to count it like that, he’s actually your puppy grandpa. Bear is fifteen years old.” My mother-in-law, Joyce, made a face. “Don’t talk nonsense. How can you call a dog a brother or grandpa? You’re gonna give birth to a puppy if you keep that up.” After lunch, I was exhausted. I made myself a cup of milk tea, went into the bedroom, and lay down. They chatted in the living room for a while longer, then left. But after they were gone, the silence felt wrong. Bear was a clingy old boy. He hated when people left. Usually, he’d be scratching at the door or whining. But today? Silence. He hadn’t come to nuzzle me since the guests walked out. I got up and searched the apartment. No Bear. A bad feeling hit me in the gut. I rushed to the window and looked down. There, in the driveway, was little Tyler, climbing into the backseat of their SUV, holding Bear in his arms. I lost it. I threw the window open and screamed, “Put my dog down!” The whole family looked up. Joyce immediately started waving her hands, signaling her eldest son—my brother-in-law, Travis—to drive. “Go! Go!” she mouthed. Travis actually started the engine. I didn’t think. I just reacted. I grabbed my half-full cup of milk tea and hurled it out the window. It was a perfect shot. The cup exploded against the front windshield, splashing sticky brown liquid everywhere. Travis slammed on the brakes; he couldn’t see a thing. Shane, seeing the mess, yelled up at me from the sidewalk, “Are you crazy?!” “I’m coming down!” I screamed. I sprinted down the stairs. Joyce tried to block me, babbling excuses, but I pushed past her and started banging on the car window. “Open the door! Give me back my dog!” Joyce grabbed my arm. “The kid likes the dog! Just let him raise it for a bit! You raised it for years, that’s enough. You’re pregnant now, you shouldn’t be around animals anyway!” “Bear is fifteen!” I shouted, shaking. “He’s geriatric! He is not a toy for a child!” Inside the car, Travis looked at his mom, annoyed by the sticky windshield. He cracked the window an inch. “Ma, just get a rag and clean this up. Calm her down.” That patronizing tone snapped something inside me. I pulled out my phone and smashed it against the glass. Thud! “Put the damn dog down!” I roared at Travis. “That is my dog! Your mom had no right to give him away, and you have no right to take him!” I kept smashing the phone against the glass until spiderwebs formed. Shane rushed over and grabbed my arm, digging his fingers in hard enough to bruise. He hissed through his teeth, “Have you lost your mind? You’re embarrassing me in front of my family.” I was shaking with rage. “I’m crazy? You’re crazy! You’re my husband, and you let them steal my dog behind my back?” “I Googled it!” Shane yelled back. “Do you know what toxoplasmosis is? Dog poop carries parasites! It affects the baby! I’m doing this for our child!” “Shut up! Your mouth is filthier than dog shit right now!” Travis, worried about his precious car window, finally unlocked the doors. I yanked the back door open. Tyler was clutching Bear, wailing at the top of his lungs. “I want the puppy! Auntie, give him to me! Please!” “No!” I reached for Bear, but Tyler turned his back, shielding the dog. He looked at his parents, sobbing. “I want the doggy!” My sister-in-law, Brenda, was the only one with half a brain. She sighed. “Tyler, give the dog back to Auntie. Mommy will buy you a new puppy tomorrow.” “I don’t want a new one! I want this one!” Tyler screamed. Joyce clutched her chest, acting heartbroken. “Look at you, making my grandson cry. You’re a grown woman fighting with a child!” I ignored her and held out my hand to the kid. “Give him back. I won’t ask again.” Tyler bit his lip, sobbing uncontrollably. Bear, sweet old Bear, didn’t understand he was being kidnapped. He licked the tears off the boy’s face. Then, Tyler snapped. Instead of handing Bear to me, he lifted the dog up and smashed him onto the asphalt. “Fine! Take him!” the kid screamed. My heart stopped. I watched Bear hit the pavement. He let out a high-pitched yelp of pain. He was fifteen. His bones were brittle. He struggled to stand, whimpering, holding one paw up. He was limping badly. The red mist descended. I didn’t think about consequences. I grabbed Tyler by the collar and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. Slap! Silence. Absolute silence. Shane stared at me, mouth agape. Joyce raised her hand to slap me back, but she froze mid-air. I knew why she stopped. Not because of me, but because of the incubator in my belly. I scooped up Bear. He was shaking, whining in a low, pained rhythm. Everyone swarmed Tyler. Shane was cooing at him, promising toys, promising McDonald’s. No one looked at the dog. I walked back upstairs, tears blurring my vision. Bear was twitching in my arms. I grabbed my car keys. I needed to get him to the vet immediately. Shane followed me in, slamming the door. “You go downstairs right now and apologize to Tyler!” I stared at him coldly, keys in hand. “You broke Mom’s heart, and you humiliated me! How are we supposed to have family dinners after this?” he ranted. “We don’t,” I said. “I’m taking Bear to the vet, and then I’m going to my parents’ house. Tomorrow, I’m filing for divorce. I don’t need you to raise this kid. It’ll have my last name.” Shane looked like I’d slapped him. I packed a bag one-handed, holding Bear close, and walked to the door. Shane grabbed my purse and ripped it away. “Put it down. Go to your room.” I looked at him and felt nothing but pure, unadulterated disgust. He really thought he was some alpha male, didn’t he? It’s funny how love dies. It doesn’t always fade. Sometimes, it just turns into nausea in a split second. “Keep the bag,” I said. I opened the door, clutching my dog. Shane lost it. “You’re divorcing me over a dog?” I turned back. “When I got 100% on a test in third grade, my mom bought me Bear. He was there when I graduated high school. He was there through college. He was there when I married you. He’s been with me for fifteen years. I’ve known you for four. How dare you give him away?” “You’re being dramatic!” “Just now, when I was alone against five people, did you stand by me? No. I’m done arguing. Let’s just divorce. I wanted a man who could protect his wife and child. You aren’t him.” His face twitched. “Fine. Divorce. But you pay me back every cent I spent on the wedding.” “I Venmo’d you while you were screaming downstairs. Check your phone.” He checked. His face twisted further. “You really act like this over a mutt?” Suddenly, Shane lunged. He snatched Bear from my arms. And just like his nephew, he threw Bear onto the floor. Hard. Bear hit the tiles with a sickening thud. He tried to scramble up on his little legs, slipping on the smooth floor, wailing in agony. “Get away from him!” I shoved Shane, trying to get to my dog. Shane grabbed my arm—hard. “I’m sick of your princess attitude! You want a divorce? Fine! Let’s make it permanent!” He dragged me into the kitchen and grabbed the chef’s knife from the block. My blood ran cold. “Are you going to kill me?” “I don’t hit women,” he sneered. He dragged me toward Bear. Panic, primal and overwhelming, flooded my system. “Bear! Run!” I screamed. Bear always listened to me. But he was old, and he’d been smashed into the ground twice in ten minutes. He tried. He scrambled toward the door, dragging his back legs, whimpering. Shane let go of me to catch him. He took two steps and brought the knife down. Blood sprayed. Bear convulsed and collapsed. Shane didn’t stop. He hacked at the dog. Again. And again. “This is for your twisted priorities!” Chop. “This is for hitting a child!” Chop. “This is for threatening divorce!” Chop. I watched my dog being butchered. He wasn’t dead yet. He was suffering. “Shane, I’m going to kill you!” I grabbed a heavy wooden dining chair and smashed it over Shane’s head. His scalp split open. Blood poured down his face, into his eyes, making him look like a demon. But he didn’t stop. He was going to chop Bear into pieces. I remembered my self-defense class. Go for the groin. I gathered every ounce of strength I had and kicked him squarely between the legs. Shane froze. His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the floor, clutching himself, making a sound like a deflating balloon. Just then, Joyce walked in. She saw her son on the floor, the blood, the knife. She screamed and shoved me aside. “My family! You’ve ruined my family!” she wailed, cradling Shane’s bleeding head. I ignored her. I crawled to Bear. He wasn’t making noise anymore. He was… gone. Just a pile of fur and ruin. Shane, gasping for air, grabbed the dog’s severed head in one hand and the bloody knife in the other. He panted, looking at me. “Welcome to the real world, princess. Nobody’s gonna coddle you here.” He tossed Bear’s head at my feet. My legs gave out. I collapsed to my knees. Bear. My Bear. Since I was eight years old. Waiting at the school gate. Waiting at the bus stop. Licking tears off my face when I had my first heartbreak. Now, he was in pieces. I picked up his head. It felt so light. I remembered lifting him when he was a puppy, telling him, “You’re getting so heavy, buddy.” I packed what was left of him into a plastic trash bag. I left. Shane didn’t stop me—he couldn’t stand up. I drove to my parents’ house. I had arrived at my wedding in a limo with Bear on my lap. I came home with him in a bag. We buried him in the backyard, along with his favorite squeaky toys. My parents cried with me. They told me the backyard was going to be a garden soon. Bear would like that. I touched my stomach and told my parents, “Tomorrow, I’m getting an abortion.” I had planned to keep the baby, raise it alone. But not anymore. That man’s DNA didn’t deserve to exist. My parents agreed immediately. “A man who uses a knife in an argument isn’t a father. He’s a monster.” I cried all night.

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At the company’s anniversary gala, the newly appointed CEO made her first public appearance. I secretly snapped a photo of my stunning boss to send to a friend, bragging about her beauty. But I got caught red-handed. She scolded me coldly: “As an employee, focus on the company’s business, not on useless distractions.” I turned beet red, wishing the ground would swallow me whole. To salvage my reputation, I rushed to the CEO’s office as soon as the party ended, intending to explain myself. But when I knocked and entered, I froze at the sight of a clay figurine on her desk. Wasn’t that the birthday gift I handmade for my online girlfriend just a few days ago? It even had my initials carved on it. When the realization hit, my scalp tingled. The new female CEO was actually the girlfriend I had been dating online for three years. 1 Confirming that the new boss in front of me was my unseen girlfriend, I suddenly got nervous and blurted out, “This figurine…” “My boyfriend made it for me.” Chloe reached out and touched the head of the figurine on the desk, a rare tenderness flashing in her eyes. But the next second, she wiped the smile off her face and scolded me sternly: “What does this have to do with you? Don’t ask what you shouldn’t.” “Why are you here?” I touched my nose awkwardly, reluctantly withdrawing my gaze from the figurine: “Ms. Qin, I didn’t mean to sneak a photo of you just now. It’s because you look a lot like my girlfriend, and I couldn’t help it.” Hand to God, although this excuse was made up, given the current situation, it was the truest lie ever told. But Chloe obviously didn’t buy it at all, sneering directly: “Can you come up with a lamer excuse?” “With that lecherous look of yours, what girl with good eyesight would fall for you?” My face darkened instantly. Thinking about how bad my first impression was in her eyes, I wanted to drag my friend out and beat him up. It was all his fault for demanding to see the beauty. At the same time, I severely despised Chloe in my heart. Usually, when chatting with me online, she was gentle and soft. Who knew she could be so sharp-tongued in reality? Besides, how did a girl who claimed to be a fresh graduate worker suddenly become a domineering female CEO? 2 Leaving the office, I took out my phone and sent a cute spanking sticker to Chloe on WeChat. She replied almost instantly: “Hubby, what’s wrong? Did someone upset you?” The office door wasn’t fully closed. Through the crack, I saw Chloe happily holding her phone and replying to messages, the smile on her face completely different from the “Extermination Nun” (a strict teacher character) face just now. I gritted my teeth and replied: “Just got scolded by my female boss. She said a man like me couldn’t get a girlfriend.” The other end of the phone instantly got fired up, message notifications dinging non-stop. I looked up guiltily at the door crack, afraid of arousing Chloe’s suspicion, and quickly hugged my phone to the bathroom to reply. In the chat box, Chloe had already cursed herself out. “How could she say that about my dear hubby? Simply hateful!” “My hubby is the best, best, best man in the world. Your female boss must be blind.” “Hubby, when we meet in a couple of days, I definitely won’t let anyone bully you.” Heh, besides her, it seemed no one else in the company had bullied me. I’ve been working in this company for almost two years. Who would have thought my online girlfriend would turn out to be my direct boss and I’d get scolded by my own girlfriend? Who do I complain to? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I decided to delay the meet-up with Chloe, leaving her hanging for a few days to vent my frustration. “I’m a bit busy recently, might not have time this month.” “What?” “No, hubby! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for so long, how can you postpone it…” The phone exploded instantly, sending a dozen crying emojis in a row. Faced with the melodramatic plot that my online girlfriend of three years is my female boss, I hadn’t recovered yet and felt irritable. So I exited the chat interface and stopped replying. 3 My temporary escape for peace ended up making the whole company tremble in fear. Chloe’s temper suddenly became explosive. Any department reporting work would come out after being scolded bloody. First the Business Department, then the Finance Department, scolded one by one… Soon, the fire spread to our department. Because of a small issue in a proposal, Chloe called us to the office and scolded us harshly, not a single good word coming out of her mouth. The colleagues who came with me were scared and kept their heads down, daring not to speak. That unsmiling, stern attitude was completely different from her usual online persona. Little girl, acting quite well. I couldn’t help muttering, almost speaking my mind out loud. “Sam, you seem unconvinced by me?” I had to admire this woman’s eyesight. She accurately captured even my subtle movements. Chloe frowned and stared at me, her imposing aura pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. I quickly shook my head and defended myself: “How could that be, Ms. Qin? I am endlessly grateful for your guidance and will always keep it in mind.” She snorted and raised an eyebrow: “Okay, good.” “Smooth talker, your proposal must be good too.” “Then you redo this proposal alone. Hand it to me before you get off work tomorrow.” Amidst the sympathetic looks from colleagues, my brain crashed on the spot, ten thousand curse words galloping through my heart. It was almost time to get off work, and she wanted me to redo the proposal alone and hand it in by tomorrow evening. This was blatantly making me pull an all-nighter, wasn’t it? Fine, Chloe, since you openly gave me a hard time, don’t blame me for being “ruthless” behind your back. When I angrily returned to my desk, I received a message from Chloe. “Hubby, don’t ignore me, baby misses you so much.” “I won’t rush the meeting anymore. Can we talk about it when you’re free?” 4 To save my “colleagues” from suffering, I decided to sacrifice myself. Hesitating for a few seconds, I replied, “Okay, I’ll think about it.” Seeing my reply, Chloe bombarded me with messages even more frantically. “Great, hubby! You finally willing to talk to me.” “Hubby, tomorrow is your birthday. We can meet later, but I must send you this year’s gift.” “You promised me before, you can’t go back on your word.” Finally, a crazy kissing emoji. In our three years of online dating, I never told Chloe my home address. Several times she begged for my address to send gifts, but I ruthlessly refused. Because I didn’t want her to think I was the kind of man who coveted her gifts. But every year on her birthday, I would send her some handmade gifts to express my feelings. Not that I was stingy, I just didn’t want to burden this pure relationship. After all, she always claimed to be a poor worker before. How could I accept her gifts and add to her burden? Now that she exposed her identity as a female CEO, I had no worries. To give my colleagues a happy working environment, I could only sacrifice myself and send her the address. However, the address sent was the community’s package collection point. The community is so big, I wasn’t afraid she would track me down. So, that night, I successfully received the birthday gift Chloe sent via flash delivery. Inside the exquisitely wrapped gift box was a box full of paper stars and a low-key luxury mechanical watch. The handwritten letter smelled faintly of perfume, the same scent on Chloe. The handwriting reflected the person, delicate and grand, every stroke expressing love for me. A few short sentences made my heart surge.

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To spite the fake heiress, my fiancé and my brother decided to abandon me on a private island on my wedding day. They had a standing bet, wagering on how long it would take me to realize I was being played. My brother, Blake, slammed his expensive Rolex onto the poker table. “I bet a month.” He chuckled, the sound grating. “See, my sister—Willow—she was kidnapped as a child. A bad fever when she was little, and it left her… well, simple. A bit slow on the uptake.” “If Preston hadn’t, by sheer luck, found her and brought her home, she’d have died out there years ago.” My fiancé, Preston, coolly slipped off the vintage watch he’d worn since his twentieth birthday, an old family heirloom. He gave a cold, sharp smile. “I bet three days.” “She’ll be crying on the phone to me, begging me to come and get her.” The room erupted in loud, mocking laughter. Outside the room, my palms were clenched so tight my knuckles were bloodless, stark white against my skin. That night, I dialed the number etched deep in my heart, my voice trembling with wounded confusion. “Rhys, I want to go home. Please, take me home…” 1 “That’s savage, Blake! Aren’t you worried that when Madison realizes, she won’t forgive her dear brother?” The voice came from the billiards room, thick with drunken amusement. Blake laughed, a hollow sound. “I’ve already made arrangements. It’s just a lesson, a little scare, that’s all.” “We’re not leaving her there for good, are we?” “She’s a fool who can barely remember her own name. A few sweet words, and she’ll be fine.” Another man pressed the point. “Preston, you’re ruthless, too!” “The poor simple girl is happily waiting to marry you, and you’re sending her off for an island survival trial.” “Aren’t you afraid she’ll actually run away?” “Run?” His careless, dismissive laugh cut into my ear like a shard of glass. “Where is a fool going to run to?” “Once she figures out what she did wrong, we’ll bring her back, naturally.” The sinister words were swallowed by a chorus of derisive snickers. I clutched my chest, the dull, aching throb inside making me feel faint. I stared at my pale, drawn reflection in the window glass, trying desperately to figure out: What exactly did I do wrong? Was it the time I had a 104-degree fever and didn’t get Madison a cupcake? Or was it when it was raining, and I didn’t kneel down to wipe the mud off Madison’s shoes? But… I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. Last time, when I donated a full pint of blood for Madison—Blake had promised me he’d never hurt my feelings again. And Preston had said he would be my family from then on. The Matron at the old home used to say that family doesn’t hurt family. It hurt to realize that, apparently, family does hurt family. The realization brought a fresh wave of injustice. My chest felt tight, as if filled with pins and needles. The tears welled up and clung to my lashes. A gentle blink sent them splashing onto the polished floorboards. The pain—a crushing, physical ache—stayed with me right up until dinner. At the large dining table, I instinctively retreated to my usual place in the corner, nervously watching Blake and Preston. They sat on either side of Madison, one laughing and chatting with her, the other carefully plating her food. A bright red chili pepper suddenly landed in my bowl. I turned my head and met a pair of maliciously playful eyes. “Blake said your favorite food is chili peppers. Is that true?” I hesitated, then picked up the pepper and put it in my mouth. The choking heat exploded, instantly searing my nose and throat. I couldn’t stop the violent coughing fit that followed. My face flushed a painful crimson. Blake strode over. When he heard what happened, he smacked the top of my head. “You’re about to be a married woman! Why are you still such a stupid pig?” “Someone gives you something, and you just eat it? You’ll be poisoned one day, and you won’t even know it!” I coughed, the effort tearing at my lungs. The sting in my heart deepened, layered now with raw confusion. Last month, they’d told me to jump into the koi pond to catch a fish. I’d told them I might drown. Blake had just thrown me in. He waited until I was almost sinking before having someone pull me out. Afterward, he’d cursed me for embarrassing him, and kept his face frozen in a cold mask for a whole week. Now, I had done exactly as I was told, eaten what I was given. Why was he still unhappy? I didn’t understand. I suppressed the coughs, but the noise in my ears felt deafening. Madison clattered her chopsticks down, her tone petulant. “Stop coughing! Your germs are everywhere. How is anyone supposed to eat?” Madison’s sharp voice had become a waking nightmare for me. I involuntarily hunched my shoulders and drew my neck into my body. The next second, Blake grabbed me by the arm and hauled me out of the dining room. As we left, I saw Preston still seated, casually talking to someone else. He didn’t spare me a single glance. Blake dumped me in the back garden. “Stand right here. You’re not coming back in until everyone has finished eating!” He walked away without looking back, leaving me alone in the mosquito-infested yard. I waited for what felt like forever. Blake never came back to get me. The sky began to weep small drops of rain. They fell onto the welts left by the mosquito bites, offering a moment of cool, brief relief. The rain lasted for thirty minutes. I stood there, drenched, for all thirty. Just as I felt I might pass out from the chill, a shadow appeared above me—the dark silhouette of an umbrella. I looked up. Preston’s face, framed by the misting rain, seemed terrifying and utterly unfamiliar. I flinched back, confused. The man’s voice was low and eerie. “Look at me. Who am I?” My brain was slow; I sometimes struggled to tell people apart. Preston always enjoyed playing this game—forcing me to fail. Forcing me to engrave his face permanently onto my memory. For the first time, I didn’t answer. Preston’s cold, biting voice dropped heavily onto my head. “Fine. That’s just great.” “It’s been five years, and you still can’t remember my face.” “Willow, what makes you any different from a stray you pick up off the street? An ingrate.” I shrank back, then, surprisingly, looked up and stared at him without fear. I stood up, pushed past him, and ran back into the house, racing to my room. I didn’t clean up. I just curled up inside the bed, soaked, pulling the covers tight around me. The laughter and noise from downstairs continued until past midnight. I woke up burning hot, the fever spiking. I grabbed my phone and dialed the number etched in my memory. As soon as the call connected, I couldn’t stop the sobs building in my throat. “Rhys… they… they’re all bullying me…” “I want to go home! Please, hurry, take me home!!” Rhys was my best friend from The Sunrise Home. Before he was adopted, he made me promise to memorize his number. If I ever needed him, I had to call. Silence stretched on the other end. Then, a man’s voice, thick with suppressed emotion, came through. “W-Willow? Is that really you?” “It’s me, Rhys. I want to go home…” “Okay. I’ll come get you. Just please, stop crying, alright?” I nodded, the tears pouring out even faster. Rhys, just like when we were children, began to hum a soft, familiar lullaby on the other end of the line, soothing me to sleep. I closed my eyes, the sound of my own shaky breathing gradually softening. I fell asleep, dreaming. I dreamed that in three days, I successfully left the Sayer house. I was back at the Home. Back with the Matron. I was holding Rhys’s hand again, telling him how much I missed him. Later that night, my fever was still raging. Through my delirium, I heard Blake complaining. “The bet’s on the line. Why did she have to spike a fever right now? What if she gets even stupider?” Madison whined. “Just give her a few more shots to bring the fever down.” “I don’t care. In three days, you have to dump her on that island. I need my satisfaction!” A sharp sting in my arm—an injection—traveled straight to my heart. Blake sighed, a sound of resigned compromise. “Fine, fine, your highness. Anything you want.” I kept my eyes closed. My chest felt so heavy, so tight, I could barely breathe. We were both his sisters. Why did Blake treat me like this? Was I not obedient enough? But the Matron had always said I was the most obedient child at the Home. When I finally woke up, Blake and Madison were gone. Mrs. Bell, the family caretaker, sat by my bed, holding a bowl of warm broth. I recalled Blake’s sickeningly indulgent tone with Madison and pursed my lips. “Mrs. Bell, am I really stupid?” Mrs. Bell’s palm was wide and comforting as she stroked my hair. Her voice was gentle. “No, Miss Willow. You’re not stupid. You are the kindest, most obedient girl I have ever known.” I nodded hard, tears splashing into the bowl of broth. I suddenly missed the Matron terribly. I missed everything about The Sunrise Home. I wished Rhys would come right now and take me away, never to return. After finishing the broth, I lay back down to sleep. When I woke again, the person by my bed was Preston. I shot up, scrambling back into the corner of the bed. Ever since I overheard his words in the billiards room, I felt a tremor of fear whenever I saw him. Seeing my reaction, his face darkened slightly. “You don’t want me here that much?” I pressed my lips together tightly. Normally, I was always thrilled when Preston came to see me. He was the one who brought me back to the Sayer house. He was the one who initially stepped in when Madison bullied me. But somewhere along the way, he had changed. He had become utterly unrecognizable… His expression turned colder. He gestured for me to approach. “Come here.” I didn’t move. He repeated the command. “Don’t make me say it twice!” Slowly, reluctantly, I slid closer. As soon as I was within reach, he grabbed the back of my head and crushed his mouth to mine. It was a harsh, punitive bite rather than a kiss. I shoved him away, my eyes wide with terror. Preston simply smirked. “Why the sudden shyness? It’s not like we haven’t kissed before.” His tone was perfectly normal, yet a chill ran down my spine. Preston used to hold me gently. He had always said we could only kiss if he loved me, and I loved him. But he had just called me a fool and said he didn’t like me. Why would he kiss me now? I retreated to the corner again, frantically wiping the blood from my lips, glaring at him. “You’re mean!” His expression instantly snapped to icy rage. He lunged forward to grab me. I tried to dodge, but he caught my wrist and yanked me back against his chest. Just as I prepared to bite his arm with all my might, the guest room door opened. Madison stood in the doorway, her eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. Instantly, Preston violently shoved me away. I hit the corner of the wall, the impact shaking me, a cold dread flooding my heart. Madison turned and ran. Preston sprinted after her. He was moving so fast that he knocked a small clay figure off the dresser. It was a figure Preston had personally molded five years ago to help me remember his face. I lunged forward, but I was too late. The sound of the clay figure shattering echoed loudly in my ears. It felt exactly like the time five years ago when Preston had scolded me. “Little fool, this figure looks just like me. If you break it, I’ll never talk to you again.” I picked up the mud doll, now broken cleanly in half. Tears streamed down my face. For the first time, I felt truly stupid. Truly, unbearably stupid. I couldn’t even hold onto this fragile, fleeting trace of love. I clutched the broken clay in my hands and ran out barefoot, desperate to find someone who could fix it. I held onto a sliver of hope—if the figure could be mended, maybe the Preston from five years ago could come back. That hope shattered the moment I saw Preston holding Madison close, wrapping his arms around her. In that instant, I finally understood. The Preston from five years ago wasn’t coming back. He was truly gone. And there was one less person in the world who loved me. A voice, sneering, reached my ears. “What else do you do all day besides cry?” I turned and looked at Blake. His face was malicious as he glanced down at the two embracing figures. “Quite the match, aren’t they?” “I honestly don’t understand. What does a fool like you have over Madi?” “Maybe simpletons really do get all the luck?” I didn’t speak. A bone-deep coldness spread from my feet through my whole body. Blake frowned, clearly dissatisfied with my silence. “What’s the matter, did the fever make you mute?” His gaze flicked down to the clay figure in my arms, and his eyes lit up with mean interest. “Is that supposed to be Preston? It’s so ugly. You actually thought of giving that to him?” He swung his hand and smacked the figure out of my grasp. This time, it shattered completely. It was beyond repair. I crouched down, looked at the fragmented face, and then looked up at Blake. “Blake, am I really that detestable?” It was the first time I hadn’t called him ‘Brother.’ He’d said himself that he was ashamed to have a sister like me. Now, however, Blake frowned tightly. “What did you call me? Did the fever fry your brain again?” He vented his frustration by slamming his foot down hard on my hand. The small clay shards dug into my palm, and blood immediately welled up. I bit my lip, pushed him away with all my strength, and ran toward the stairs. I ran fast, feeling like I was flying. As I passed Madison and Preston, I didn’t spare them a glance. Preston released Madison and yelled after me. “Willow! Where are you going? Stop!” I didn’t stop. The drops of blood from my palm splattered a steady, light pattern onto the floor. Outside, the morning light was dazzling. In a daze, I thought I saw the Matron. She held her arms open, her expression gentle and sacred. “Willow, let’s go home.” “Matron!” I lunged toward the vision, only to slam hard onto the ground. The pain brought me back to reality. There was nothing there. No one loved me. Preston carried me back to the bedroom and threw me onto the bed. “I want to go home! I want to go home!” I screamed, trying to reach for my phone to call Rhys and tell him to come now. Preston snatched the phone away, his voice laced with impatience. “Stop this noise. This is your home.” No. My home was The Sunrise Home. This place was not my home! Blake stood nearby, sneering. “She was already simple. Now she’s just completely lost it.” Madison hid behind him, acting terrified. “Brother, does she have a psychiatric condition?” Blake stroked her hair. “Don’t worry. Brother will protect you.” I glared at all of them, my gaze finally settling on Madison. Her expression was mocking as she mouthed the word: “Idiot.” The last of my control snapped. I lunged forward like a wild animal, trying to scratch and bite Madison. Before I could reach her, Preston shoved me with such force that I hit the corner of the nightstand, leaving me dizzy and disoriented. Madison was so startled she fainted. Blake picked her up, tossing a final, vicious threat my way. “I’ll deal with you later!” Preston looked at me with pure, chilling disdain. “Willow, you disappoint me greatly.” “Being simple is not an excuse to randomly attack people.” I hugged myself tightly, wrapping my arms around my chest, as if that could shield me from any more hurt. Mrs. Bell rushed in after hearing the commotion to clean up the mess. She gently peeled my arms away from myself and tended to my scraped knees. “Miss Willow, tell me if it hurts.” I pointed to my heart. “Here. It hurts so much, so much…” Mrs. Bell’s eyes were red-rimmed, and she sighed. I grabbed her arm, pleading. “Mrs. Bell, I want to go home. I want to go back to the Home…” Mrs. Bell sighed again, heavier this time. “Miss Willow, have you forgotten again?” “The Home was torn down three years ago. And the Matron who took care of you… she passed away from stomach cancer five years ago…” Yes. The Matron was dead. The memory started to surface from the murky depths of my mind. I remembered the Matron saying she would become a star in the sky to keep watch over me. I remembered Preston swearing to her, before he took me to the Sayer house. “From now on, Willow is my life.” I remembered the Matron lying in the coffin, impossible to wake up, no matter how hard I cried. I had no Matron anymore. I had no home. Blake came back the next day. He was still fuming. He threw open a suitcase and began frantically stuffing my usual items inside—my favorite cup, my pajamas, a change of clothes, and my favorite snacks… “Don’t think for a minute that you attacking Madi is over.” “Get out of here before she wakes up. You’re going to Preston’s house!” “You’re not allowed back until she forgives you, understood?” As he spoke, his eyes fell on the family photograph on my nightstand. It was taken right after I came home. Madison stood in the center, glowering. Blake was beside her, bent over, trying to cheer her up. I, the main subject, was huddled in the corner, managing a tentative, nervous smile. He hesitated, then stuffed the photo into the suitcase. His phone rang. He walked out onto the balcony to take the call. I took the photograph out and dropped it into the trash can. I wasn’t coming back anyway. There was no point in taking it with me. From a distance, I heard Blake’s cold laugh. “I’ve already given the word. This time, she needs to be locked up for at least a month. She’ll come home once she’s learned her lesson.” “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” He didn’t need to go through all this trouble. He wouldn’t be seeing me again, ever. He hung up, returned to the room, grabbed the suitcase, and pulled me downstairs. I thought for a moment, then struggled free of Blake’s grip and ran back into the bedroom. I took out a knife-carved portrait and held it out to him. He didn’t take it, glancing at it and dismissing it instantly. “What is this? It’s ugly.” I paused. “It’s a birthday present.” A month ago, I’d asked Blake what he wanted for his birthday. He’d asked for a knife-carved portrait of himself. Everyone knew he was purposefully making an impossible demand. But my slow brain didn’t realize. I took a small knife and worked quietly for a month, leaving countless tiny cuts on my hands. I hadn’t planned on giving it to him. But this was the last time I would ever give him a birthday gift. My reminder finally jogged his memory. He reverted to his usual disparaging tone. “You actually carved it? How could you be so foolish?” As soon as he spoke, I mimicked his own casual cruelty and threw the carving into the trash can. The next second, he pulled the carving out of the bin, roaring in anger. “What are you doing now? Are you going crazy?” “I didn’t say I didn’t want it!” I stared at Blake, utterly bewildered. He cleared his throat, placed the carving on the desk, and dragged me toward the door. “Let’s go. Stop cluttering up the house!” He didn’t stop lecturing, even at the doorway. “Be obedient when you get there, you hear me? Don’t humiliate me again!” “If anyone bothers you, call me. Did you hear that?” I just thought he sounded extraordinarily loud and irritating today, making my eardrums ache. The car that came to pick me up arrived astonishingly fast. So fast that Blake looked surprised. “Didn’t they say they were still half an hour away?” He didn’t dwell on it. He simply opened the car door, shoved me and the suitcase inside. I met Rhys’s gaze in the rearview mirror. We hadn’t seen each other in years. He only showed a pair of beautiful eyes above his mask. But I recognized him instantly. Rhys. He had come to take me home.

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It was the third year since I’d been blacklisted when I ran into my ex-fiancé, Marcus. I was working as a stunt double on a dusty soundstage outside Atlanta. He arrived in a whirlwind of attention, the CEO of his own media empire, here to visit his supposed girlfriend. A prince among the masses, surrounded by sycophants. Me? I was just the girl in the rough muslin costume, covered in grime. The scene called for his girlfriend, Avery, to slap me. In pursuit of “authenticity,” she’d taken the director’s encouragement and slapped me more than twenty times. My face was numb. The director finally yelled “Cut.” Marcus walked over. He stood over me, looking down at my swollen, stinging face. “Apologize to Avery. Kneel down and beg her forgiveness right now, and the part of the Ingénue in this movie is yours,” he said, the corner of his mouth curving into that familiar, venomous smile. “Otherwise, jump off that two-story balcony. Give the crew a show.” I didn’t hesitate. I turned and jumped, straight off the balcony and into the frigid, murky depths of the fake pond below. 1 As gasps echoed around the set, I heard Marcus’s furious bellow. “Sierra! You’d rather kill yourself than yield, wouldn’t you? You’re a goddamn piece of work!” I spat out a mouthful of the pond water, which tasted like chemicals, and hauled myself onto the bank. My body was shaking, but I held out a trembling hand to the unit manager. “Hazard pay. You owe me the hundred dollars for the high fall. Cash now.” All the love, all the hatred, all the history—it was all just dust now. But that hundred dollars? It was exactly enough to buy myself the cheapest possible urn at the city crematorium. The unit manager was frozen. He looked instinctively up at Marcus on the platform. Marcus didn’t say a word, his face dark enough to curdle milk. The manager, scared, backed away. I panicked. The tumor inside my head was throbbing, a frantic, rhythmic dance. I forgot all about dignity. I dragged my heavy, soaked clothes, limping after him. “Give me the money.” “The agreement was a hundred for the jump.” “Give it to me.” I must have looked like a deranged woman, clutching his sleeve, refusing to let go. The crew started pointing and whispering, their eyes full of scorn and pity. “The former A-list star, reduced to this?” “Risking her life for a hundred bucks. She’s completely obsessed with money.” “Serves her right, after that hit-and-run. Karma.” I’d heard it all a thousand times. It didn’t even sting anymore. I’d bark like a dog for this money if it meant getting it. “Sierra.” Marcus was suddenly there. His polished leather shoes stopped right in front of me. “Marcus, pay the man.” He let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his furious gaze. “Are you that broke, Sierra? Making yourself look like a drowned animal for a hundred dollars?” “What is it? Did the pretty boy dump you? Do you need the cash to support your little fling?” The ‘pretty boy’ was the phantom lover, the imaginary ‘adulterer’ he’d used as an excuse to torment me for three years. I wouldn’t explain. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. “Just give me the money. I have to go,” I repeated, a mechanical loop. His anger flared hotter. That’s when Avery strolled over. She linked her arm through his, then pulled a thick wad of bills from her limited-edition designer handbag—about two thousand dollars in crisp hundreds. “Oh, Sierra. You’re just pathetic.” She wore pity like a designer scarf. “Take this and go buy some cold medicine. Stop embarrassing yourself here.” With a flourish, she tossed the money in the air. The pink bills fluttered down like vulgar confetti, scattering into the mud and puddles. The crowd roared with laughter. Marcus watched, clearly waiting for me to lunge and scramble like a dog. I did lunge. But I ignored the clean, pink hundred-dollar bills. I scrabbled through the mud, digging for the few crumpled tens and the loose change that the unit manager had dropped in his haste. It added up to exactly one hundred dollars. I clenched the money in my fist like I was clutching my last breath. I didn’t spare the two thousand a glance. I stood, swaying violently. A sudden warmth flooded my nasal cavity. Nosebleed. I used the back of my hand, still slick with pond water, to wipe the blood away quickly. I couldn’t let him see. Marcus exploded at my deliberate snub. “Don’t play the martyr, Sierra! You won’t touch the two thousand, but you’ll risk your life for this pittance? Do you think this act is going to make me feel sorry for you? Dream on!” He kicked the scattered bills on the ground and pointed toward the gate. “Get out! Don’t let me see your face again!” I felt a wave of dizzying relief. “Thank you, Marcus.” I clutched the hundred dollars, bowed a shallow, mocking bow, and walked away, dragging my soaked, aching body out of the studio lot. Behind me, Avery’s voice, sweet and cloying: “Darling, don’t let her upset you. She’s not worth it…” Then Marcus’s soft reassurance: “It’s fine. Let’s go get some expensive French food.” I heard them. And felt nothing. My mind was on one thing: I finally had enough for my urn. Outside the lot, the sky was darkening fast. I was shaking uncontrollably, the fever making my vision swim. But I couldn’t stop. To save the cab fare, I rode my ancient, battered bicycle the twelve miles out to the suburban funeral home. The wind was a razor against my face, and the wet clothes had frozen stiff against my skin. My phone buzzed. It was the manager at the crematory. “Ms. Sierra, someone else is trying to buy that unit.” “The director says if you’re not here in thirty minutes, the box goes to the other party. It’s the last cheap one we have. You know the drill.” The line went dead. Panic seized me. That was my final resting place. I couldn’t bear the thought of dying and not even having a place to sleep. I pedaled like a madwoman. My lungs burned; every ragged breath tasted of blood. Suddenly, a black Maybach surged forward, cutting me off hard. “Screech—” A violent screech of tires ripped through the night. I went down, bicycle and body, slamming onto the asphalt. My knees hit the pavement and went instantly numb. The hundred dollars spilled out of my pocket, scattering. I didn’t care about the pain—I scrambled to gather the bills. A polished leather shoe landed squarely on a crumpled twenty. I looked up. Marcus’s face was dark, a storm of suppressed fury. “Where are you rushing off to?” he demanded, towering over me. “To see him? The ‘adulterer?’ You’re throwing your life away for him?” I was kneeling, my hand reaching for the bill under his foot. “Marcus, please. Move your foot.” “I need to go. I’m begging you. If I’m late, it’ll be too late.” My voice was a choked sob. If I didn’t get there, I would truly have no home, not even in death. Seeing my desperation only fueled his rage. He yanked me up by the wrist, the grip iron-hard. “A quick errand? A quick hookup, is that what you mean? You’re repulsive, Sierra.” “I won’t let you go!” I fought him wildly, my nails tearing streaks of blood across his hand. “I won’t! Marcus, let go! I need to go to the funeral home! I have to buy the urn!” I screamed the truth, raw and hysterical. He just laughed—a cold, brutal sound. “Buy an urn? You couldn’t come up with a better lie than that? Joking about your own death? You’ll say anything to see that man.” He didn’t believe a word. How could he? In his eyes, I was a conniving liar, a manipulative woman who would use any trick for money. I was shoved into the car. The door clicked shut, the lock engaging. It sealed me off from the cold wind, but more importantly, it sealed off my last shred of hope. I stared out the window, watching the scattering coins and bills vanish into the distance. Tears finally streamed down my face. Finished. It was all finished. The clock on my phone was ticking down: five minutes left. We were miles away, driving into the heart of the city. I collapsed against the leather seat, all the strength drained from me. Marcus watched my despair in the rearview mirror, his lip curled. “So, you’re miserable without him? Sierra, you will never get away from me. Not in this life.” The Maybach pulled up to the familiar gates of the mansion—our former marital home. He dragged me out and into the house. The heating inside was stifling, yet I felt colder than I had outside. Avery was sitting on the Italian leather sofa, applying a hydrating mask. She glanced at me, a flicker of surprise, then pure smugness. “Darling, why bring her back? She’s filthy. She’ll ruin the cashmere rug.” Marcus ignored her, hauling me straight toward the storage room under the main staircase. “Go inside. Think about what you’ve done.” “When you decide to tell the truth, I’ll let you out.” He shoved me in and slammed the heavy door shut. Clack. The sound of the deadbolt. Darkness swallowed me instantly. I threw myself against the door, beating the wood with my fists. “Marcus! Let me out!” “Please, Marcus, I’m begging you!” I cried until my throat was raw. “Is that man really so important to you? Important enough to beg like a stray dog?” Marcus’s voice was muffled through the wood. “Stay in there, Sierra. Get that man out of your head.” The sound of his footsteps receded. I heard Avery’s cooing and his soft, affectionate reply: “There, there. My Avery is always so sweet.” I slid down the cold wall, my knees pulled to my chest. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I fumbled for it, the light burning my eyes. The message from the crematory manager: Ms. Sierra, the unit has been sold. Deposit is non-refundable.

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Two years after I died, I suddenly regained consciousness. My mom had found a new man and was living her best life. My dad got everything he ever wanted and was enjoying his golden years surrounded by grandkids. My bestie, the only person who truly got me, finally stopped grinding her life away for her career and decided to retire early to Europe. And the guy I secretly crushed on for ten years was finally walking down the aisle with the love of his life. Everyone was doing great. I thought it was great, too—even if my grave felt a little lonely sometimes. The night before the wedding, I floated into Lucas’s bachelor party. After a few rounds of drinks, I saw my bestie raise her glass to Lucas. “Lucas, honestly? I’ve always hated your guts.” “You shamelessly soaked up all of Jenny’s affection and effort while completely ignoring her feelings.” “But I know if Jenny were standing here today, she’d genuinely wish you happiness. ‘Happy wedding, happily ever after,’ all that jazz.” “So, I’ll say it for her.” “Happy wedding. Happily ever after.” 1 Hearing those words, I froze. Lucas, as always, kept his face devoid of emotion. “Rachel, you’re drunk.” “Fine, assume I’m drunk. Assume I’m talking nonsense,” Rachel said, downing her drink in one gulp. “Anyway, Jenny’s been gone for two years.” “I booked a flight for tomorrow morning. I won’t be at your wedding.” Rachel handed Lucas two red envelopes. “Here. One from me, one for Jenny.” Lucas didn’t take them. “Why are you giving me Jenny’s share?” “Why do you think? She prepared her gift money ages ago. Made me promise to give it to you.” “Hey, come on, it’s a happy day. Don’t bring the mood down,” an old friend chimed in, trying to smooth things over. “We know you and Jenny were tight, but Jenny never said she liked Lucas, right?” “Besides, she’s been gone a year. What’s the point of bringing this up now?” “Saying this the night before Lucas’s wedding… what is the bride supposed to think?” Rachel sneered. “I don’t give a damn what she thinks! I’ve hated her since day one.” “Relax. Even if I hate you guys, this is the last time you’ll see me.” Rachel shoved the envelopes into Lucas’s pocket and stormed off. I floated there, panicked. I looked at Lucas, hesitated for a second, then chased after Rachel. “Rach! Rach, slow down! My little legs can’t keep up!” Rachel always speed-walked when she was mad. She was tall, all legs. I always had to hustle to keep up. But every single time, she would eventually stop, huffing, and wait for me. Then she’d poke my forehead and call me a dummy. Too bad she couldn’t see me now. So she never stopped. 2 I never expected her to drive to my cemetery in the middle of the night. When I first woke up, I was tethered to my grave. There were no other ghosts around, so I just sat on my headstone like a gargoyle, watching the sun rise and set. No one talked to me. No one saw me. I talked to myself a lot. Sometimes I’d pop up in front of mourners and make faces. They’d chat right through my soul, and I’d call them rude. Then one day, I realized I could wander further. So I went to check on my old crew. They were all living good lives. So I figured, as long as they were happy, it didn’t matter if they visited me or not. 3 Rachel brought a handkerchief. She squatted in front of my grave and meticulously wiped away the dust. “Sorry. I know you hate being lonely, but I haven’t come to see you in so long.” Rachel sat down, leaning her back against my headstone. I sat down next to her, shoulder to shoulder. “You always said you were a coward, but you were way braver than me. Look at me. Even today, I can’t accept that you’re gone.” “I didn’t bring flowers today. Didn’t bring those candied apples you love. Are you mad at me?” I hugged my knees and smiled at her. “Since you cleaned my grave, I’ll forgive you.” “Jenny, I’m leaving.” “I’m emigrating. Probably won’t come back much.” “There’s nothing left for me here. Even you left me. No point staying.” I nodded. “It’s okay. Go if you want. Follow your heart.” “I know you’d support whatever I do. But I still have to tell you something that might make you mad.” “Lucas is getting married.” “To Chloe.” “I told him you had a crush on him for ten years. You probably hate that.” “But I just couldn’t get over it.” “Not throwing my drink in their faces was already me taking the moral high ground.” “I’ll never forget the look on Chloe’s face when she stood in front of you, calling you a desperate pick-me who throws herself at men for free.” “Your taste in people was always trash. Whether it was me, your friend, or Lucas, the guy you loved… we were never considerate enough.” “Most of the time, you were the one accommodating us.” “Jenny… is there another world after death? Are you happy there?” I thought for a moment. “I don’t know if there’s another world, but I’m doing okay right now.” Not super happy, not super sad. Just okay. “Rach, you don’t need to feel guilty. And you don’t need to take it out on Lucas. He didn’t do anything wrong.” “He just didn’t like me. That’s all.” 4 I always thought I was lucky. I was the product of a business marriage. My parents had their own careers and lovers; they rarely looked my way. But I lived a cushy life. Designer clothes, best schools. I was introverted. In high school, bullies targeted me constantly. But the worst time, I met Rachel. She bravely called the cops and even got hurt protecting me. I had no ambition, just wanted to coast. My parents didn’t care about my future, so I was lost. But Lucas stood out. The way he spoke on stage captured my heart instantly. To chase him, I studied my butt off and got into the same university. Rachel called me a chicken. She said I followed Lucas around like a puppy for years, and he didn’t even know I existed. So I gathered my courage and approached him as a “fellow alum.” Classmate, acquaintance, friend, good friend. That path took me forever. I thought about confessing. Even bought a gift. But Lucas had a traumatic childhood. He had severe issues with intimacy. So I thought, fine. Don’t force it. Just being friends was enough for me. Then one day, Lucas went on a business trip for a week. When he came back, he had a woman with him. Chloe. The high school prom queen. Now Lucas’s girlfriend. That’s when I realized: “trauma” and “walls” are just excuses. When you meet the right person, the walls come down. The shadows disappear. I couldn’t do it. But Chloe did. Love is so unreasonable. It doesn’t care about first come, first served. When “The One” shows up, everyone else becomes a background character. Too bad. I had main character energy but a side character destiny.

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My boyfriend stormed out again. The reason? I worked late and didn’t scoop the cat litter the second I walked in. This time, I didn’t run after him. Suddenly, a stream of floating text—like live comments on a Twitch stream—started scrolling across my vision. 【What is wrong with the FL (Female Lead)? The ML (Male Lead) is standing right outside. He didn’t even push the elevator button; he’s waiting for her to chase him!】 【The ML totally noticed she has low blood sugar just now. If she just opens the door, he’ll definitely come back and cook her something delicious. He won’t hesitate!】 【The ML is just super insecure, that’s why he’s throwing a tantrum about the litter box! Actually, all he needs is an “I love you” from the FL and he’d walk through fire for her. Who wouldn’t love a man like that?】 【FL, hurry up and comfort him! The ML is about to cry!】 【Yeah, he regretted it the moment he ran out. He’s probably eaten up with guilt right now, scratching at the walls. Boohoo, this is so angsty!】 I was hesitating, hand hovering over the doorknob, when my phone buzzed. It was a text from my boyfriend, Liam. [Liam: Chloe, let’s break up!] [Liam: Move out before I get back!] My heart seized, and my eyes instantly stung with tears. [Chloe: Okay.] 1 I put my phone away, wiped my tears, and dragged my suitcase out of the closet. The floating comments went wild. 【Omg, the ML is just being awkward! He’s dying to come back and hug her, but he’s stubborn and has a toxic mouth. Saying “break up” is just his way of showing insecurity!】 【Exactly! His parents divorced when he was a kid and both remarried quickly. He has abandonment issues! The FL knows this! Why is she actually packing? Girl, don’t! He loves you so much, how will he live if you leave?】 【That trash mouth of his! You can’t believe what he says when he’s angry. Just open the door, he’ll come wagging his tail back to you. Don’t pack, what will he do without you?】 【No one in this world loves you more than he does. You guys survived high school, went through four years of college, and finally graduated. You’re his whole life! If you leave, what happens to Liam? And what about Jelly?】 I started folding clothes, forcing myself to ignore the barrage of text floating in the air. I’ve lost count of how many times this has happened. Every time he says “break up,” he demands I move out. And every time we make up, he acts cute, pouts, and tells me he didn’t mean it. I remember the first time Liam kicked me out. I was terrified. We were supposed to go on a trip the next day, so I worked overtime to hand off all my projects properly. I wanted to enjoy the vacation stress-free. But Liam felt I didn’t care about the trip because I got home past 11 PM. He didn’t listen to my explanation. He didn’t care that I hadn’t eaten dinner. He shoved a suitcase into my hands and slammed the door in my face. I stood there for half the night, starving. It was winter. I didn’t even have my coat. I was shivering violently in the hallway. Liam never opened the door. If a neighbor hadn’t found me passed out from hypoglycemia and banged on the door to wake Liam up, who knows what would have happened? Liam was scared to death that time. When I woke up, he swore up and down: “Chloe, I love you so much.” “If I say hurtful things when I’m mad, please promise not to take them seriously, okay?” “You know I’m insecure. As long as you give me enough security, I won’t get mad anymore.” I believed him. So, every time we fought after that, and every time he told me to get out, I told myself he was just angry. I knew he was awkward. I knew he was insecure. So, I made him the center of my universe. But now? I’m tired. Eight years. Eight years of bowing my head, of apologizing, of being kicked out every time he had a mood swing. I am truly. Exhausted. 2 Packing didn’t take long. I made myself a bowl of instant ramen. I felt a tug on my pant leg. I looked down. It was Jelly. As soon as I crouched down, Jelly jumped into my lap. Jelly was originally a cat belonging to one of Liam’s junior classmates, a girl named Bella. She got tired of raising it after less than two weeks. Liam brought the cat home, and it became my responsibility. Scooping litter, vet visits, vaccines, deworming—it was all on me. If I ever slipped up, Liam would look at me coldly. “If it wasn’t because you liked it, why would I have brought Jelly home?” “Chloe, when did you become so irresponsible?” And coincidentally, this breakup was because I hadn’t changed the litter fast enough, and the apartment smelled a bit. While eating my noodles, I checked my phone. I saw that Bella, the “junior classmate,” had posted on her social media. [QAQ, my poor homeless senior is so pitiful. I guess I’ll reluctantly take him in. (๑>ᴗ<๑)] The photo was half of Liam's face, holding a drink at a bar. 【The ML is so pitiful. Look, he’s drunk but his eyes are glued to his phone. He’s still thinking about the FL!!】 【Girl, don't be mad! He only went to the Junior’s place to make you jealous. He doesn't like her at all, she’s just a tool to him!】 【Yeah, look at his phone, he’s staring holes into it. If you send one text right now, he’ll instantly turn back into your puppy dog.】 Before I could finish reading the floating comments, a video came through from an unknown number. In the video, Liam was leaning back, eyes closed, resting his head on a woman's chest. The woman asked, "Liam, if you sleep at my place tonight, won't your girl dump you?" Liam let out a cold sneer. "I'll just freeze her out for two days. She'll be begging to carry me back home in a sedan chair." The woman laughed, her voice trembling with amusement. "So she's a simp then? The kind you can't get rid of even if you try?" I held my breath. Then I heard Liam give a low, "Yeah." The video ended. I stared at the ramen in front of me. I couldn't take another bite. So. The heartache I felt for him, the step-by-step retreat I made for his "security"... In his eyes, and in everyone else's eyes... It just made me a doormat. A simp who comes when called and leaves when dismissed. I looked at the cup of noodles. Cold, with a layer of congealed grease floating on top. Disgusting. 3 Eight years of a relationship, boiled down to one small suitcase. "Meow... meow..." Jelly seemed to sense something and bit tugged at my jeans. I hesitated for a second. Considering I’ve been the one caring for Jelly for the past year, and knowing Liam wouldn't want the hassle, I picked the cat up. We were leaving together. It was 2 AM when I checked into a hotel. Early the next morning, I opened Zillow and started scrolling. Within an hour, I found a small studio apartment near my company. It was tiny, but the commute was practically zero. When we first graduated, we didn't live there. Liam loved to sleep in. Every morning was a battle to wake him up. He’d been written up twice for being late. I was the one who suggested we move closer to his company. Back then, I thought love could conquer all. As long as it was convenient for Liam, a one-hour commute for me was nothing. Later, when his startup succeeded and he bought a place, it was also near his office. We lived there for three years. Now that I’ve moved out, I can finally save those two hours of my life. I moved into the studio that same day. "Chloe, aren't you heading out? The subway is going to stop running soon," a coworker reminded me as I worked late. I looked at the unfinished report and shook my head. "I moved nearby. I'll head back after I finish this." "Whoa! Chloe, you finally came to your senses and moved?" My colleagues had always thought it was insane for me to waste two hours a day commuting. Inconvenient and a waste of life. Hearing I’d moved closer, everyone dragged me out for late-night drinks to celebrate. I went home and crashed, dead to the world. The next day, right after work, I got a text from one of Liam's friends. [Sister-in-law, did you and Liam fight? He’s at my place acting like a drunken maniac.] I paused. [Not a fight. A breakup.] He immediately sent a voice note back, his tone dripping with condescension. 4 "Chloe, come on, that’s not cool. You know how he is. In all these years, how many times has he said 'break up'? Has he ever meant it?" "You used to be so understanding. Why are you being so stubborn this time?" "Don't say I didn't warn you. If you come over now and say a few nice words, he’ll cool off and go home with you." "If you don't show up, and he decides to make the breakup real, don't come crying to me later." It was laughable. Even his friends were convinced I couldn't live without him. Before I could reply, the call ended. A second later, a location pin popped up. I blocked the number. Liam's friends had always treated me with indifference anyway. Since Liam and I are done, there’s no need to keep his friends in my contacts. 【Why does the FL look actually angry? The ML had his friend call on purpose to give her an out! Couples don't hold grudges overnight!】 【Exactly! The ML is just awkward. He loves her to death, otherwise, why would he give up his dream university to go to the same one as her? Sigh, our girl is just triggered. The ML has puked three times already, he’s gonna hurt his stomach.】 【Am I the only one who thinks the ML is just toxic? Why is it that when a girl acts up she's crazy, but when a guy acts up he’s just 'insecure'? It’s speechless behavior.】 I saw the last comment and couldn't help but smile bitterly. Exactly. Liam is toxic. In the beginning, he was okay. But ever since he "sacrificed" his dream school for me, he became impossible. Every time we fought, if I didn't apologize immediately, his friends would call. They’d guilt-trip me about how much he gave up for me. Do you have a conscience? they’d ask. But when we were filling out college applications, I told him repeatedly that I didn't mind a long-distance relationship. I told him that even if we were thousands of miles apart, he was still the most important person to me. But Liam stubbornly applied to the same school as me. When I asked him to confirm if it was truly what he wanted, he stayed silent. Then, the day after the deadline, he got blackout drunk. His friends called me then, too. Calling me selfish. Saying I forced him. That was the first time I realized his "dream school" wasn't the one we went to. Back then, I was moved by his "sacrifice." I rushed over and took care of him. But over the years, whenever he was unhappy, his entourage would remind me of my debt to him. It felt like because he gave up a college for me, I owed him my entire life. "Chloe, let's go, time to eat." 5 We worked late again, too late for delivery. We decided to hit a nearby bistro. I used to skip these gatherings because I was terrified of missing the last train. Now, knowing my apartment was a ten-minute walk away, I said yes. We were a group of five or six. After dinner, we decided to hit a bar. As soon as we sat down, I noticed the table next to us was loud. I glanced over instinctively. It was Liam and his crew. And, of course, his "junior," Bella, was there too. "Liam, a bet is a bet! You have to kiss someone here for three minutes! Hurry up, hahahaha!" Truth or Dare. My glance happened to lock with Liam’s. I didn't linger. I looked away immediately. Liam seemed to pause. A moment later, he replied slowly, "Fine." Cheers erupted from his table. "I didn't think Liam would actually play along! So, who are you picking? Hahaha!" Someone teased, "We're all dudes here, surely he picks Bella? Unless he wants you?" "Oh, stop it, you guys are annoying!" Bella covered her face, acting shy. "Come on, Liam, pay up. Pick someone now or I'm volunteering myself!" "Hahahaha, Liam's virtue is at stake!" The noise from the next table got louder. The floating comments started pleading again. 【FL, what are you doing? Don't you see the ML staring at you? He doesn't want to kiss anyone else, his brain is full of you right now!】 【He hasn't been home for days, he doesn't even know you moved out! He’s waiting for you to bow your head. Don't be stubborn now! If he gets pushed into a corner and actually kisses the side-chick, what then?】 【He’s not talking because he’s waiting for your reaction! Just look at him! You don't even have to go over there, just make eye contact and he’ll come over like a good boy. He won't look at anyone else!】 I picked up my drink and took a sip. As I put the glass down, my hand slipped, and the drink spilled across the table. "Oh no, Chloe, are you okay?" A colleague flagged down a waiter to clean it up. The commotion obviously caught the attention of the next table. The rowdy group went silent. Several pairs of eyes turned to me. Bella stood up aggressively and marched right up to my face.

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The day I got my license suspended for a DUI, I didn’t panic. My best friend did. In the life before this one—that other timeline where I was too naive to see the knife coming—she had borrowed my car for our annual family memorial trip back home. On a dark, winding road, she hit and killed an octogenarian. She pushed it all onto me, telling the highway patrol I was the one driving. Even my boyfriend stood by her, a willing accomplice providing the perjured testimony that pinned the murder on me. I was torn to shreds—literally. The dead man’s family cornered me, and I died after being stabbed eight times, my soul unable to rest. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the day my childhood friend asked to borrow the car. 1 “Willow, I need your car for the weekend trip back home. Can I just grab your keys?” Sutton Miller, my best friend since kindergarten, saw my frozen silence and must have mistaken it for consent. She reached for my purse, ready to fish out the key fob for the brand-new SUV my dad had just given me last month. The next second, I snapped back into the present. Seeing her hand reaching for my bag, I instinctively snatched it back and clutched it to my chest. “Willow, what the hell? I’m not stealing your stuff. I just need the car keys.” I looked at her, my eyes narrow with a lifetime of paranoia. “No. I’m driving home myself for the memorial this year.” Sutton clearly wasn’t used to hearing the word “no” from me. She frowned, her voice tightening with impatience. “Just take one of the other cars your family owns. You guys have, what, three?” “This is my new car. The one Dad just got me last month. Go ask someone else, Sutton. You can’t borrow mine.” My voice was firm, but before the last word left my mouth, a strong hand ripped my bag away, found the key fob, and tossed it to Sutton. “Willow, why are you being so cheap? It’s just a loan. It’s not like she won’t give it back. Can’t you just take a bus back home for once?” I stared coldly at Dean Thompson, the man who was supposed to be my boyfriend, yet who always, always, backed Sutton up. I had been so blind in the last life, utterly clueless about the affair between these two rats. Sutton and I were best friends, practically sisters. We grew up a few hours apart in the same rural community before my parents moved to the city. Last time, when she asked to borrow the car for the memorial, I hadn’t hesitated. It was brand new, yes, but I handed her the key without a second thought. Then came the tragedy. She hit an eighty-year-old man on a dark country road. There were no cameras in the village, it was late at night, and I hadn’t gotten around to installing a dashcam in the new SUV yet. So she pinned it on me. She somehow got ahold of my driver’s license and planted it at the scene of the accident. The police tracked me down via the license. I was already shaken, ready to explain that the car had been loaned out, when Dean, my boyfriend, stepped up and told the cops I was the one driving. The license was mine. The vehicle was registered to me. The person closest to me testified against me. Any attempt to defend myself was useless. The victim’s family found me and demanded a massive settlement. I refused, protesting my innocence. Seeing my refusal, the furious family swarmed me, pushing me into the highway where I was hit and run over by a semi-truck. There was nothing left. 2 The memory of the asphalt and the crushing weight of the truck—the feeling of that betrayal—was enough to burn through my anger and ignite a cold resolve. I stepped forward, shoved Dean aside, and snatched my bag back. Before he could speak, I snapped, “Dean, what the hell is wrong with you? Whose side are you on? You’re my boyfriend, not hers! Why do you always take her side?” My gaze flickered between them. “Unless… there’s something going on between you two?” I didn’t finish the sentence, but the panic in their eyes was immediate. They had me pegged as their cash cow, the easily manipulated source of money and favors. They weren’t ready to drop the mask just yet. “Willow, how can you even think that? Our twenty years of friendship… is all that worth nothing just because I wanted to borrow your car?” Sutton immediately played the victim, the tears springing up with practiced ease. I shrugged, uncaring. “Say whatever you want. I’m not lending you the car.” “But you can ask him. He has a car. Why are you only focused on borrowing mine?” I pointed to Dean. Dean immediately balked. “No. I need my car to go back to my parents’ place. My dad has bad knees; we need the car.” I let out a cold laugh. “Looks like he won’t lend it either. Guess you’ll have to take the train, Sutton.” I grabbed the keys, spun around, and walked away. After breathing in a few gulps of fresh air, I finally calmed down and drove home, my brow furrowed the whole way. Something still felt wrong. Suddenly, an idea struck me, and I pulled over to the side of the road, opening my State Department of Motor Vehicles app. What I saw made my blood run cold. Unbeknownst to me, when Sutton had borrowed my car before I got the new one, she had racked up driving infractions and used my license to take the points—eleven points in total. My current license was essentially a ticking time bomb. One minor violation, and it would be immediately suspended. I glanced in my side mirror and saw a State Trooper walking toward my car—I’d been stopped for too long on the shoulder. An idea, daring and dangerous, clicked into place. Last time, Sutton had somehow gotten my license and planted it, which led the police directly to me. This time, I absolutely would not allow that to happen. She wants my license to frame me? Fine. I’ll hand it over to the police myself. Now. Let her try to frame a woman who is legally not allowed to drive. I grabbed the household disinfectant spray I kept in the cup holder—the one with a high alcohol content—sprayed it around the car, and then, without hesitation, sprayed a quick mist into my mouth. The Trooper tapped on my window. When I rolled it down, he immediately smelled the sharp, artificial alcohol scent. His expression hardened. He pulled out a breathalyzer. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to blow into this.” I complied, blowing lightly. Seeing the number flash on the screen, the officer immediately stated, “Ma’am, you are over the limit. You’re being charged with a DUI. Please present your driver’s license and registration.” I nodded obediently, handing over the card. I even asked, with genuine, relieved enthusiasm, “A DUI means a six-month license suspension, correct?” The officer looked at my overly cheerful expression, confused, assuming I was in shock. “Now you’re scared, huh? How many times do we have to say it? Don’t drink and drive. You just don’t listen.” “Your license will be suspended for six months, and you’ll be fined one thousand dollars.” I happily paid the fine, surrendered my license, and called a ride-share service to take me home. Lying in my own bed, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding. No one could frame me now. My license was already with the state. I told my parents that the new SUV had a major issue and was in the shop, so I couldn’t drive back home for the memorial. Since my family had other vehicles, my dad immediately offered to drive us himself. 3 We set off the day before the memorial, long before dawn. It was about a three-hour drive, so I slept most of the way. I woke up as we pulled up to the old family property. The house was generally empty, only visited during the holidays and for the annual memorial. The three of us spent the entire afternoon cleaning it up. The next morning, my parents and I got up early, gathered our offerings, and prepared to head up the hill. We hadn’t walked far when we noticed a commotion up ahead. I lowered my head and tried to keep walking with my parents, but then someone in the crowd called out my name. “Well, look who it is. If it isn’t Xie’s daughter. Don’t you say hello anymore?” I looked up. It was one of the locals from the community. I only came back a few times a year, and my relationship with these people was purely a nodding acquaintance. I didn’t even know half their names; there was no real need to stop. But since I’d been called out, ignoring them would be rude. I managed a tight smile and was about to move on when someone pulled my arm. “Willow, look at Sutton, though. She brought us all these wonderful gifts. She’s got a car and a nice place in the city, and she’s got such an outstanding boyfriend. You should be more like her.” I walked over and saw Sutton and Dean at the center of the crowd, soaking up the attention. Were they not even trying to hide it anymore? Being addressed as a couple, right out in the open? Sutton saw me and seemed to realize the locals had jumped the gun. She quickly tried to clarify. “Actually, me and Dean are just friends. Please don’t misunderstand.” But the locals didn’t listen, instead chiding her for being shy and trying to keep a big secret like a new relationship. I let out a cold laugh. “Dean, when exactly did you become Sutton’s boyfriend? I must have missed that memo.” Panic flashed in Dean’s eyes. He rushed over and grabbed my sleeve. “Willow, honey, I came all this way specifically to see you. I wouldn’t have even found your family’s place if Sutton hadn’t driven me.” He turned to my parents with a fawning, eager expression. “Mr. and Mrs. Reid, I’m Willow’s boyfriend. I apologize, I haven’t had a chance to buy you proper gifts yet. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you here.” The crowd burst into surprised murmurs. So, they had been the ones who misunderstood! The villager who had been the loudest looked embarrassed and shot a passive-aggressive remark at Sutton. “Oh, so he’s not yours after all? You should have said something sooner. You got us all confused.” Sutton looked mortified. She hadn’t expected the coincidence of me showing up right next to her property and being pulled into the crowd. I yanked my hand out of Dean’s grasp and pressed the attack on Sutton. “Sutton, since when did you buy a place and a car in the city? Why didn’t you tell me?” “You must have spent a fortune on all these gifts.” Sutton was silent for a few seconds before defending herself with self-righteous indignation. “We’re neighbors. We’ve known each other for years. Of course, I should buy them gifts. Willow, you shouldn’t forget where you come from.” The locals, who had just received her gifts, immediately rallied to her defense and started pointing fingers at me. “She’s a city girl now, looking down on the rest of us here in the country.” “I don’t know what her parents taught her. She’s a disgrace to the community.” “Your dad’s old man gave him a basket of eggs when he went off to college! Now he makes money and he forgets everyone!” My family hadn’t done anything, yet in the locals’ mouths, we were the villains. With so many people openly accusing us, my dad was about to step in and defend me when a group of people suddenly burst into Sutton’s yard. “Is Willow Reid here?” The leader’s voice was loud and commanding. Everyone in the yard instantly turned and fell silent. 4 I quickly stepped forward. “Officer, I’m Willow Reid. How can I help you?” The officer studied me, seeming to confirm my identity. “You are a person of interest in a fatal hit-and-run case. We need you to come with us.” My eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s impossible, Officer. I haven’t driven my car in days.” My dad, too, was instantly alarmed. “Absolutely not, Officer! My daughter would never do such a thing!” The officer didn’t argue. He held up a transparent evidence bag containing a blood-smeared driver’s license. “This is your driver’s license. It was recovered at the scene. Whether you were driving or not, we require your cooperation in this investigation.” I looked at the license in the bag, the horrifying realization of their new plan clicking into place. Before I could speak, Sutton stepped forward, her voice dripping with fake sorrow. “Willow, how could you leave the scene? That was someone’s life!” “You always drove too fast. I’ve told you countless times, Willow, why don’t you ever listen?” She sounded so heartbroken, so convincing, that if I wasn’t the victim of her frame-up, I might have been moved. “Wait a minute, Officer, this isn’t right,” my mom suddenly realized. “You said she was involved in a car accident, but my daughter didn’t drive her car home this weekend.” “We did not find the vehicle at the scene, only some fragments of a bumper,” the officer confirmed. At that moment, Dean stepped forward, a smug look of heroic revelation on his face. “I know where the car is!” We all looked at him. A sickening sense of dread welled up inside me. Dean, looking utterly confident, said, “Come with me, officers. I’ll show you where she hid the vehicle.” The group left Sutton’s yard and started walking toward our family property. Dean led the police into our house. Our seldom-used backyard, which was usually cluttered with old junk, now contained an extra vehicle—my SUV. But I had parked that car in my garage at my apartment complex in the city! How did it get here? “Officers, this is the vehicle,” Dean declared, pointing. “Willow was the one driving. She hit the victim, fled the scene, and parked the car here.” “She told me everything. If you had arrived any later, she was planning on driving it further up the mountain to hide it.” Dean’s expression was earnest, but as his eyes met mine, a flicker of triumph crossed them. Everyone, except my parents, who had been with me all day, now looked convinced that I was the killer. “Willow, you should just turn yourself in,” Sutton urged, stepping forward. “It’s the only way to get a lighter sentence.” My parents were completely lost, their minds reeling from the shock. I watched the officers take a step toward me. I had to act, or I would go down for murder again. “Officers, that driver’s license is not mine,” I stated loudly. “I have proof!” Dean and Sutton assumed I was just terrified. Dean pointed to the evidence bag. “Look closer. Your name is right there on it! How can it not be yours?” The officer, however, ignored them and listened to me. He took the license out of the bag and inspected it closely. Then, in front of everyone, he said: “This license is a forgery. It’s fake.

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Before leaving for my final mission, I asked Julian one last time: “Will you marry me?” He was silent for a moment. “Okay.” My heart—and the System in my head—dropped at the same time. “Crap.” I was supposed to be rejected one hundred times to return to my real world. Turns out, I panicked for nothing. On my last mission, a twist of fate made me the sacrificial lamb for his first love. Julian stayed by her side for three days before he even remembered me. By the time he asked, the news had already broken: Officer Chloe Hart, killed in the line of duty. 1 “Host, there’s really no rush.” “It’s your birthday. Nobody wants to be rejected on their birthday.” My heavy breathing echoed in the quiet hallway. I had just finished a three-month undercover assignment out of state. Dragging my exhausted body, I came straight to Julian Thorne’s penthouse. No other reason. I’ve been stuck in this world for seven years. I want to go home. The rules are simple: get rejected by Julian one hundred times, and I can return to reality. Just now, the System told me I only need one more rejection. Through the door, I heard Julian on the phone. The woman’s voice was on speaker, her sobbing soft and pitiful: “Julian, I know you’ve been with Chloe for three years. I shouldn’t be bothering you, but I just couldn’t help it…” Julian’s response was a long silence. The woman on the other end was Lydia Reed, Julian’s first love. The one who got away. Most of my successful rejections over the years were thanks to her. Julian changed the subject. “When are you coming back? I’ll throw a welcome party.” “In what capacity? As my ex?” “As an old friend.” Silence on the line. Then, a voice tinged with spite: “Ex-boyfriend, I’m getting married. The 20th of this month. You’re invited.” Julian seemed angry. He said her name, low and dangerous: “Lydia!” She hung up. The System cheered in my head: [Jackpot! Host, go in now! While he’s mad! Ask him to marry you!] Normally, I wouldn’t poke the bear when he’s in a mood. But the dead weight of seven years was suddenly lifted by the hope of going home. I pushed the door open urgently. The room was dark. Julian sat in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights glittering behind him like a sea of stars. The glow of his phone screen illuminated half his face. Sharp jawline, cold eyes. A face that could launch a thousand ships—or sink them. Seeing me, he locked his phone and leaned back, closing his eyes. His tone was unfriendly. “Why are you here?” See? A giant calendar on his desk, yet he didn’t even remember it was my birthday. My palms were sweating. “I have a mission tomorrow.” In the real world, I was a police academy graduate. So in this world, I chose to be a cop. No hesitation. Julian pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice icy. “So? Do you need something?” “Yeah. After this mission… will you marry me?” The System was already throwing a party in my brain: [AHHHH! Mission complete! I’m getting promoted! Yes! Yes! Yes!] Julian’s dark eyes reflected my shadow. His slight frown showed his annoyance. I took a deep breath, lowered my head, and waited for the magic word. Honestly, after liking him for so long, being rejected still stung a little. But the System promised me money. A lot of money. Spendable in the real world. “Okay.” “What?” The System’s cheering cut off abruptly. I looked up in shock, meeting Julian’s calm, almost indifferent gaze. He slowly turned his phone in his hand. “I said, okay.” A few seconds later, both the System and I cursed in unison. “F*ck…” 2 I hid in the bathroom. The accumulated frustration finally exploded. “Celebrating early? You must be Employee of the Month!” The System snapped back: [It’s your fault! Why did you remind him it was your birthday? Men and their cheap guilt!] My head was pounding. Overtime had drained every ounce of my energy. I slumped against the sink, weak. The System whispered tentatively: [Maybe ask him to sleep with you now? He might say no to that?] I sneered. “Why don’t I ask him to go die?” If only it were that easy. The game designers blocked every loophole from the start. “Sex,” “death,” and a whole list of trigger words are banned. And I can’t repeat a request. Rejection of marriage was one of the few cards I had left after seven years. We were at a dead end. The sound of water running filled the silence. I sat on the toilet lid, brainstorming my next move. Suddenly, my phone rang. Unknown number. I picked up. A gentle female voice spoke. “Miss Hart, this is Lydia.” I gripped the edge of the sink. Silence. Lydia chuckled softly, a hint of smugness in her tone. “You probably don’t know me well, but that’s okay. I know you very well.” “I’ve eaten the bento boxes you made for Julian. I’ve worn the white shirts you washed for him. Last time, when he left your birthday dinner to come see me, there was a strand of your hair caught in his tie clip.” I leaned back, voice cold. “So?” Lydia laughed. “Are you really stupid, or just pretending? Didn’t you hear? Last year on your birthday, I gave him my virginity. This year, I came back specifically on your birthday, and he forgot it entirely. Do I need to spell out who Julian really loves?” I stared at my face in the mirror. Seven years. Fine lines had appeared at the corners of my eyes. The eyes that used to light up whenever I saw Julian were now filled with numbness. I took a deep breath. “No need. Because Julian is going to marry me.” Silence on the other end. Then, Lydia’s voice turned sharp. “You don’t need to provoke me. You can’t compete with me.” Julian knocked on the door. I hid the phone behind my back and yanked the door open. I smiled softly. “Will you go with me to try on wedding dresses tomorrow?” Julian paused. Then he hugged me, his tone rare and indulgent. “Okay. On our wedding day, you will be the most beautiful bride.” I hung up the phone. And forced myself to accept Julian’s kiss, suppressing the nausea. Lydia, I hope you have some fight in you. Don’t disappoint me. 3 That night, I waited a long time. Lydia didn’t call Julian. Hot kisses landed all over my skin. Julian seemed unusually interested. But at the last moment, I stopped him. “I have a mission tomorrow. Let’s stop.” Julian looked unsatisfied. I pushed him away, turned my back, and wrapped myself tightly in the duvet. Julian was silent for a long time. Finally, he sighed. “Okay.” Water started running in the shower. The System voiced my worry: [Did you go too hard? Did Lydia give up?] “Unlikely.” Knowing Lydia, she wouldn’t give up on Julian even if she died. … The next day, the weather was gloomy. Julian didn’t leave early as usual. Instead, he sat at the dining table, eating breakfast with me. The only sounds were cutlery clinking against plates. Julian spoke. “After this mission, transfer to a desk job. If you marry me, you don’t need to work so hard.” The System commanded in my head: [Fried eggs! I want fried eggs!] I cut my ham, eyes lowered. “Okay.” Julian continued, like a CEO briefing a secretary: “From now on, I’ll be at the company on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. I’ll be home the rest of the time. I don’t want you coming to the office.” System wailed: [No cheese! I want noodles!] I smiled sweetly. “Okay.” Julian frowned. I finished my milk, pushed back my chair, and stood up. “Chloe.” I turned. “What?” Julian stared at me. “You were never this obedient before. What’s wrong today?” Honestly? I didn’t hear a word he said. “Nothing.” I smiled. “Maybe because good things are coming.” Julian tugged at his tie. His thin, straight lips betrayed his annoyance. See? He’s a hundred percent reluctant to marry me. I curled my lips. “Hey, Julian. Can you wish for my safe return?” Julian snapped out of his thoughts. A moment later, he said, “Safe return.” “Thanks.” I turned and walked out. System: [Meh, boring. I thought he wouldn’t say it.] 4 I’ve been in this world for seven years. The city’s crime rate is actually quite low. Major incidents are rare. I didn’t expect to encounter one on my very last mission. A high-profile kidnapping. The kidnapper demanded 30 million dollars and a van to leave the city. When I arrived at the scene, it was drizzling. My colleague, Officer Miller—a young girl named Sarah—sat at the bottom of the stairs, eyes red. “Chloe, the negotiator is already in. The kidnapper wants to switch hostages.” “Switch hostages?” “Yeah… the current hostage is pregnant.” The team went silent. In this situation, if the kidnapper agrees to a switch, one of us has to go in. “So… who’s going?” Sarah bit her lip. “He demanded a woman.” There were only two female officers on the team: Sarah and me. Sarah’s husband was a detective who had just been injured in the line of duty and was still in the hospital. I unholstered my gun and handed it to Sarah. “I got it. I’ll go.” The System screamed in my head: [Host, this isn’t a game! If you die accidentally, you really can’t go back!] But I couldn’t let Sarah go. In seven years, Sarah had been with me far more than Julian ever was. We were best partners. Sarah hugged me, sobbing. “Chloe, I’m sorry. I know you’re getting married. I’m sorry, but Mike is still in the hospital…” “I know.” I patted her shoulder and walked into the rain. It was an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. Through the misty rain, I saw the woman in the kidnapper’s arms. Her pale face couldn’t hide her beauty. Long black hair plastered to her cheeks, big eyes full of pitiful tears. She protected her lower abdomen desperately. “Please, save me. I’m pregnant. I’m carrying the heir to the Thorne family…” My heart skipped a beat. System confirmed: [It’s Lydia.] We looked at each other through the rain. I couldn’t describe the feeling. The kidnapper, vicious and desperate, pressed a knife into her skin. Blood trickled down. “Get over here! Or I’ll send her to hell!” Lydia’s eyes widened in terror as she looked at me. “Chloe, please. I can’t die. Julian will go crazy. If he knows you didn’t save me, he’ll hate you forever…” So she knew who I was. I looked back at Sarah. Sighed. And walked toward the kidnapper. The moment the blade touched my neck, Lydia stumbled and ran toward the police line. Just me and the kidnapper left. “I want the car!” Before I got in, the Captain gave me a signal. The plan was simple: they track the van, I cooperate to take him down when the opportunity arises. I was tied up and thrown into the passenger seat. In the last second, I saw Julian break through the crowd. He caught the fainting Lydia in his arms.

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For our Lunar New Year trip, my girlfriend, Sarah, booked us on an international tour. As soon as the plane touched down, she coaxed me onto a shuttle bus. We drove for two days and two nights. As the scenery became eerily familiar, my body started to tremble uncontrollably. This was the very hellhole I had escaped from four years ago. Sensing my panic, Sarah finally dropped the act. Her face twisted into a mask of cruelty as she told me she was selling me to a black-market factory run entirely by women. And the “Boss” she spoke of with such reverence? That was the head of the operation. My biological sister. I had spent twenty years planning my fake death to escape her clutches. I never imagined Sarah would be the one to drag me back. 1 Seeing me shake like a leaf, Sarah smiled—a gentle, terrifying smile. “Babe, didn’t you say you loved me? I owe a huge gambling debt. Just help me out, okay?” The thought of falling back into my sister’s hands made my voice quake. “Please… take me back. If you need money, I can give it to you! I’ll work, I’ll do anything to support you for the rest of my life!” Sarah’s expression darkened instantly. She spat out her words. “Do you think I have time to wait? I owe a fortune. If I don’t pay up in three days, they’ll kill me!” “I’ve supported you, you useless loser, for two years. It’s time you paid me back with interest!” Hearing her call me “useless” sent a fresh wave of terror through me. Years ago, one of my sister’s subordinates had called me useless behind my back because I wouldn’t crush an ant. My sister buried him in the dirt up to his neck, poured honey over his head, and let the ants eat him alive. If she heard Sarah talk to me like this, what would she do to her? Fear clawed at my throat as I looked at the woman I had loved for two years. Tears streamed down my face, unbidden. “You said we were going to build a home together. You said I was your favorite family…” Sarah’s warm hand caressed my cheek. Her words, however, were ice cold. “Exactly. Family helps family, right? So help me, babe.” I bit my lip and shook my head violently. A flicker of pity crossed Sarah’s eyes. “You know, you look so pathetic when you cry. It tugs at my heartstrings.” “You’re the most handsome boyfriend I’ve ever had. And the most naive.” “If I wasn’t so desperate for cash, I’d almost hate to sell you.” Her gaze hardened suddenly. “But you’re mine. I can’t stand the thought of other women touching you like that!” She lunged, pinning me to the floor of the bus. She pulled out a rope and bound my hands behind my back. Then, she drew a dagger from her pocket and waved it in front of my face. “Babe, you don’t want to be used by other women, do you? Let me help you with that.” The blade glinted. A line of fire seared across my cheek. “No!” I screamed in despair. My face… my sister was obsessed with my face! When I was a child, I knocked over boiling water and scalded my cheek. When the doctor said it might scar, my sister had the maid’s hands chopped off and threw her into a crocodile pit. She threatened to peel the doctor’s face off if he didn’t fix mine. She said I looked just like our dead father. My face was sacrosanct. Sarah had cut me. If my sister found out… I couldn’t think about it. I ignored the stinging pain. “Please! Don’t ruin my face!” Sarah laughed. “I already asked Red. She said men in the factory don’t need looks. As long as the machinery works, they’re good.” 2 Red? Could it be the same Red who joined the factory four years ago? Before I could process this, Sarah slashed my face again. Agony stole my voice. Blood ran into my eyes, turning the world red. “I know Red! Take me to her, please!” If Red saw me, she would force Sarah to take me back. She knew the consequences. Sarah paused, digging the knife deeper. “So you really weren’t loyal to me? You want to hook up with Red now?” “I’ll destroy this face. Let’s see you seduce anyone then!” I screamed until darkness took me. When I woke up, I was dumped at the factory gates. Sarah was talking to someone. It was Red! “Red!” I croaked her name through a ruined throat. Red looked surprised and turned to me. “How does he know my name?” Sarah’s face paled. She stomped on my mouth hard. “He probably heard me on the phone in the car. Don’t worry, knowing it won’t save him now.” Red pulled a cigarette from her pack and lit it. “Is that so? You wouldn’t dare play games. Is this the seventh one?” Sarah ground her heel into my lips before trotting over to light Red’s cigarette. “Seventh. Don’t worry, I know the rules.” “This kid is an orphan, no family. He’s the only one on his household registry. And he was a virgin when I got him!” Red squatted down, blew smoke in my face, and scrutinized me. A spark of hope ignited in my chest. She knows me. If she recognizes me, she’ll make Sarah take me away. If my sister finds out her subordinate kidnapped me, they’re all dead. “Tsk. Why did you mess up his face like that? He’s hideous.” Red looked disgusted and stood up. My heart sank. She didn’t recognize me! Did Sarah disfigure me beyond recognition? Grief overwhelmed me. I wanted to wail, but my throat felt stuffed with cotton. “He wouldn’t sit still. I was worried he’d use his looks to charm someone into helping him escape. So I ruined it. Doesn’t matter anyway, right?” Sarah crouched by my ear and whispered with a dark chuckle: “See? Give up on seducing Red. She thinks you’re ugly.” I used every ounce of strength to force words through my teeth. “You… will… die…” Red’s eyebrows shot up. She kicked Sarah aside and squatted in front of me, grinning. “Did this kid just curse us?” Looking at her sinister smile, I shook my head in terror. No! I meant you need to send me away! Or you’ll all die! “Ahhh—!” Red pinched my jaw open and jammed the lit cigarette into my mouth. The pain on my tongue was excruciating. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as I screamed. “Ugly freak. Dying and still trying to threaten us. Pah!” Red hawked a thick loogie onto my face. Sarah picked up a wooden stick from the ground and started stabbing into my mouth. “How dare you offend Red! Scream all you want!” Blood filled my mouth, mixing with splinters and choking me. I felt like I was drowning. Tears poured down my face like a waterfall. Is this it? Am I going to die here? “Enough. Teach him a lesson, but don’t kill him or I don’t get paid.” Red stopped her. Sarah dropped the bloody stick immediately. 3 “Right. Shall we go inside, sign the contract, and get the money?” Two massive guards hauled me up and dragged me toward the factory. A black sedan drove toward us. It was my sister’s car! I struggled frantically, throwing myself toward the wheels. The car stopped. My sister stepped out from the back seat. She looked down at me, brow furrowed. Sister, it’s me! It’s your brother! I tried to look up at her, begging silently. Red grabbed me by the hair and slapped me across the face. “Damn brat! How dare you startle the Boss!” The slap blinded me for a second. I spat blood. It landed on my sister’s high heels. Red turned white. She fell to her knees and started wiping the shoes with her sleeve. “I’m so sorry, Boss! The new guy is feisty. I’ll clean it right up!” Sarah knelt too, helping to wipe. My sister squinted at me lying on the ground. “Oh? Fresh meat?” “Yes. He’s unruly. To avoid trouble, we messed up his face. He even cursed us earlier!” Red answered carefully. My sister seemed amused. “Heh. First time anyone’s had the guts to talk trash here. Is he a college boy?” “Yes! Graduated this year. Top of his class!” Sarah interjected quickly. My sister looked thoughtful. She glanced at me and sighed. “If Dragon were still here, he’d be about graduating age too…” Hearing her use my childhood nickname, I started thrashing and wailing. Sis, it’s me! I’m Dragon! “Hey! Stay down!” Red kicked me hard, right in the face. The wounds split open again, blood oozing out. My mouth and tongue were pulp. I couldn’t speak, only make guttural noises of pain. “Hm?” My sister paused, squatting down to look closer. I was ecstatic. I tried to open my mouth to call her, but a cough racked my body and I sprayed blood. Right onto her face. Red and Sarah looked like they were about to have heart attacks. One pulled out tissues to wipe my sister’s face, the other dragged me away. Red saw a barrel of dirty water nearby. She hoisted me up. The next second, she shoved my head into the filth. Sludge filled my nose and mouth. I choked, my lungs burning. Just as I thought I was dead, she yanked me up by my hair. “You have a death wish, kid?! Disrespecting the Boss like that!” “I’m going to kill you right now as an apology!” I gasped for air for a few seconds before being plunged back under. After a few rounds, I was limp, unable to make a sound. Red threw me on the ground and ran to my sister, bowing repeatedly. “Boss, since he offended you, he’s useless. How should we dispose of him?” “Rip out his fingernails first. Then give him the ‘Bubble Tea’ treatment.” My blood ran cold. “Bubble Tea.” I had seen them use that torture on men before. It involved boiling water and a funnel. I never thought it would be my turn. Fine. Sister, you’ve committed so many sins. Retribution falling on me isn’t unjust. I calmed down. My sister wiped the blood from her face and glared at me. Then she froze. I closed my eyes, waiting for death. The thought of seeing Mom and Dad again made me smile. 4 “Is he… smiling?” My sister’s hesitant voice reached my ears. “What the hell? This little shit still has the nerve to smile!” Red couldn’t believe it. She grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. The dirty water had washed away the blood. My sister stared at my face, shocked. “Why does he have so many scars?” I saw my reflection in her eyes. A web of ugly, worm-like scars covered every inch of skin. It was horrifying. Disgusting. It was laughable that I thought she’d recognize me. I barely recognized myself. “We did it. To keep him from seducing the female staff and running away.” Red answered quickly. Sarah nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s a pretty boy. If we left his face alone, there’d be trouble eventually!” My sister nodded slowly. “Fair point. Pity, though. We could have sent him to the casino to entertain the rich ladies. Would’ve made more money that way.” A look of regret crossed Sarah’s face. “Ugh, my bad! Next time I’ll know better. I’ll find another handsome, innocent one!” Red sighed too. “Exactly. The ones you brought before were trash. Finally got a looker, and you ruined him…” “You said he looked like a pretty boy? Let me see a picture!” Red pestered Sarah for a photo. Sarah smiled wryly. “You confiscated my phone, remember?” Then her eyes lit up. She patted her pocket. “I have his ID and his diploma! You can check those!” Red got excited and told her to hand them over. Sarah pulled out my documents. Red leaned in eagerly. “Damn, nice! Look at that face. Like a puppy, but those pecs? Killer!” “You have good taste. If his face wasn’t ruined, he could have made a fortune as a gigolo!” My sister finished washing her face and walked over, drying herself with a towel. “Flying Fish? Weird name. Like me, belongs in the sky.” Red immediately started sucking up. “How can this brat compare to you, Boss!” “You’re a phoenix in the heavens. He’s just a dead fish that can’t fly. What’s the saying…” “A sparrow cannot understand the ambition of a swan!” My sister laughed and threw the towel at her. “Get out of here. A high school dropout reciting poetry?” Red peeled the towel off her face, grinning. “Just learning from the best! You’re the only college grad running a park like this!” “I remember what you told the Young Master. To succeed, you have to study hard…” Hearing my title, my sister’s face fell. She took my diploma from Sarah. Tracing the gold lettering, she sighed. “If Dragon were still alive, he’d be graduating college this year too…” She opened the diploma. Her eyes locked onto the photo. Her face went white. “Song Ningchen?” She said my full name with a trembling voice. She looked up at Red and Sarah. “Yeah. The kid told me he was an orphan when we met. Said he named himself.”

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“Take the shack. Don’t say I didn’t play fair.” Grant Elliott slid the divorce settlement across the polished mahogany table toward me. I looked at the division of assets: the two properties and the luxury sedan registered in his name were all his. The four-hundred-square-foot studio apartment, my only property, was mine. “Fine.” I signed the papers. Deirdre, my mother-in-law, scoffed from the armchair. Her newly manicured fingers tapped the leather armrest. “A dump like that? No one would even bother tearing it down.” Three months later. I received the notice from the City Planning Office. Compensation: $85.5 million. 1 The relief on Grant’s face when I finally signed was unmistakable. In five years of marriage, it was the first time I’d seen such a clear expression from him. “Hannah, let’s keep this amicable.” He stood up, his suit perfectly tailored. “If you ever get into any trouble, you can call me.” I didn’t reply. I folded my copy of the settlement and tucked it into my bag. Deirdre was sitting on the sofa, her legs crossed, a smug smile plastered across her face. “Hannah, dear,” she called me, her tone dismissive, like addressing a distant, slightly embarrassing relative. “Our Grant has excellent prospects. He won’t have any trouble finding a good match. You, on the other hand, shouldn’t be too choosy. Settle for something manageable.” “Mom, that’s enough,” Grant frowned. “Did I say something wrong?” Deirdre stood up, her voice rising. “What did she bring into this marriage? A tiny, run-down studio. What did we provide? The apartment, the car. She’s lived off us for five years—ate our food, slept under our roof—” “Enough,” I cut her off. She paused, then chuckled. “What, you can’t handle the truth now?” I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked to the door. “Grant,” I turned back. “You filed for divorce. It was your mother’s idea—and your agreement—for me to walk away with nothing but my old place. Don’t ever say I didn’t give you a chance.” Grant’s eyebrows furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?” I didn’t answer. I just pushed the door open and left. In the hallway, I heard Deirdre’s voice, sharp and loud: “What an act. Give us a chance? How much is that shack of hers even worth? Our Grant makes twelve thousand a month. She barely clears four. He’ll find someone so much better once she’s gone!” I pressed the elevator button and didn’t look back. Five years. For five years, I had been a ghost in that house. Deirdre hated that my job was ‘unrespectable’—an elementary school teacher in a public school. She hated that my parents were working class. She hated my old studio, calling it an ‘embarrassment.’ And Grant? He never once contradicted her. I’d asked him once, “Your mother speaks about me that way. Why don’t you ever stick up for me?” He’d shrugged. “She’s not entirely wrong.” I had held onto that sentence. For five years. The elevator doors opened. I stepped in and hit the button for the parking garage. Downstairs, Grant’s Lexus ES 350 sat gleaming in the reserved spot. His mother had paid for it, and it was registered in his name. I walked past it without a second thought. My old electric commuter bike was tucked away in the darkest corner, covered in dust. Deirdre had said the bike was ‘tacky’ and forbade me from riding it. Now, I was free. I pedaled the bike past the high-tech gate of The Gates at Riverwood. The gate guard glanced at me but didn’t offer a greeting. He never had. He only greeted the residents. I was not a resident. I was merely the resident’s ex-wife. Now, I wasn’t even that. I rode away, not looking back. Behind me, the lights of the condo building were bright. I’d lived there for five years, but it had never felt like home. 2 I returned to The Old Mill District. The 400-square-foot studio was what my parents had left me. It was a pre-war building, six flights of creaking stairs, no elevator. The walls were stained, the hall was dim, and the plumbing was temperamental. But it was mine. Only here did I feel like I belonged. I unlocked the door, and a scent of dust and mildew greeted me. It had been empty for three years. Grant hadn’t allowed me to visit after we married. He’d said the neighborhood was too rough and the place was unlivable. I opened the windows, letting the stale air rush out. Outside, the street was a tight weave of identical old brownstones. This was the oldest neighborhood in Crescent City. My father grew up here and was later allotted this unit. I was born and raised here, leaving only for college. Before my dad passed, he held my hand and said, “Hannah, don’t ever sell this place.” I promised him I wouldn’t. My mother said the same thing before she left. I promised her, too. They never explained why. But a promise was a promise. Grant didn’t understand. “What’s a dump like that worth?” he’d asked. “Sell it, take the cash, and invest in something real.” I said no. He called me stubborn. Deirdre said I was crazy. But I refused to sell. Now, post-divorce, this apartment was my sole asset. I looked around the small, cluttered room and allowed myself a tiny smile. At least it was mine. One hundred percent. I started to clean. Wiping dust, scrubbing the floor, changing lightbulbs. I worked all day until my back ached. But my heart felt light. The suffocating anxiety was gone. That night, I lay on the old bed, listening to the drone of the summer cicadas outside the window. My phone rang. It was Grant. “Hannah, where are you?” “My apartment.” “You’re actually staying there?” “It’s my apartment. Why wouldn’t I?” Silence on the other end. “It’s not safe for you to be alone in that kind of neighborhood.” “You don’t need to worry about me.” “That’s not what I meant—” “We’re divorced. Let’s not contact each other again.” I hung up. And immediately blacklisted his number. It felt clean. 3 News of the divorce spread quickly through the extended family. Deirdre’s mouth moved faster than the local news cycle. The phrase ‘walked away with nothing’ was her rallying cry. “Grant’s prospects were so good, she was lucky to marry him at all. Now she thinks she’ll get a piece of his success? Dream on!” This was what my Aunt Carol heard from a cousin who’d heard it from Deirdre’s bridge club. Aunt Carol was furious and wanted to confront Deirdre. I told her to let it go. “Let it go?!” Aunt Carol slammed her hand on the kitchen counter. “She called you poor, said you weren’t good enough, and now she’s spreading rumors that you were trying to bleed Grant dry? You handed over your entire paycheck to that woman!” I stayed silent. It was true. For five years, I had handed over my full $4,000 monthly paycheck to Deirdre. She called it a ‘tradition.’ It was their family ‘rule.’ I had obeyed for five years. Four thousand dollars a month for sixty months. That was a quarter of a million dollars. $240,000, all exchanged for the line, “What did she bring into this marriage?” “Hannah,” Aunt Carol looked at me, her expression softening. “Why aren’t you angry?” I smiled faintly. “What good would being angry do?” “But you can’t just let them walk all over you!” “I haven’t lost anything.” Aunt Carol didn’t understand. She didn’t know that my small, broken studio was the biggest chip in the game. Why hadn’t my parents wanted me to sell? Because they knew something. The Old Mill District had been on the City’s rezoning and demolition list for decades. It had just been slow to move. Before my father died, he told me: “Hannah, this area is going to be redeveloped eventually. When it is, you won’t have to worry about money again.” I remembered. So, no matter how much Grant and Deirdre scoffed or pressured me, I never sold. They didn’t know the internal city planning details. They only saw a 400-square-foot studio, which, to them, was worthless. They didn’t know the redevelopment countdown had begun. I hadn’t told anyone. Why bother? Let them look down on it. Let them dismiss it as trash. When the time came, they would find out. 4 The second week after the divorce, I received a text. It was from a new number—Grant’s. “Hannah, my mom was out of line. Please try not to let it get to you.” I didn’t reply. The next day, he sent another: “We’ve known each other for seven years, married for five. I don’t want things to end on a bad note.” Still no reply. On the third day, he called directly. I answered. “Hannah, are you still upset?” “No.” “Then why won’t you respond to my messages?” “There’s nothing to say.” “We could still be friends—” “Grant,” I cut him off. “You filed for divorce. Your mother engineered my leaving with nothing, and you agreed. Now you’re calling me to ask to be friends?”

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