Category: English

We were out for a team-building dinner. My eyes fell on a young couple by the window. The girl was carefully peeling a shrimp for the boy. My colleague sighed with envy. “See? This is why it’s better to just watch other people be in love.” “Hey, Nathan,” she said, pointing at the couple. “Does Isla ever peel shrimp for you like that?” I was about to say that Isla was allergic to shrimp. In the five years we’d been together, shrimp had never once appeared on our dinner table. But then the girl turned her head, smiling, and my world froze. My expression hardened, the blood turning to ice in my veins. And then, I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. There she was. Isla, who was supposedly deathly allergic to shrimp, beaming as she took a half-eaten piece right from the boy’s mouth. … The boy flinched, pushing her away gently. “Hey, people are watching! Have some decency!” Isla’s eyes crinkled, her tone dripping with affection. “What’s there to be afraid of? I’m kissing my own boyfriend.” Her voice, usually a comfort, now sent a shard of pain through my chest. I watched her take the boy’s hand, her face a mask of tenderness. “Why are you so shy?” she murmured. “Completely different from how you are in bed.” My colleague started gossiping beside me. “Wow, kids these days. No shame at all. Talking about bed in public.” My feet felt like they were encased in lead. My chest heaved, the shock of betrayal a physical blow threatening to burst from my ribs. My eyes were locked on them, on Isla and this boy, flirting and laughing. I pulled out my phone, snapped a photo, and then opened my chat with her. A message from thirty minutes ago stared back at me. [Honey, I have to work late tonight.] [Don’t wait up for me for dinner.] [Love you.] But as I finally reached the restaurant entrance, I heard the boy’s voice, laced with complaint. “How much longer do we have to be a secret?” he asked. “My grandpa’s birthday is next month, and my mom keeps asking me to bring you home to meet everyone.” “I can’t exactly,” and each word was a hammer blow to my heart, “tell them I’m the dirty little secret you keep on the side. Make my whole family a laughingstock.” I stopped dead in my tracks. I had assumed the boy was just some innocent kid, an unwitting pawn in all this. I thought that if it came to a confrontation, I would deal with Isla, and then quietly let him know he’d been lied to. No need to drag an innocent person into our mess. Ah. So that’s how it was. That made things much easier. A smirk touched my lips as I heard Isla’s soothing reply. “Don’t worry. What I owe you… I’ll make it all up to you. I promise.” I took a deep breath and gently removed my colleague’s hand from my arm. “Wait here for a second,” I told her. “There’s something I need to take care of.” Before she could react, I was at their table. I grabbed the glass of orange juice and threw it in Isla’s face. She stared at me, utterly stunned, as I smiled. “Well, what a coincidence, Isla.” “Cheating on me at the same restaurant as my company dinner. Should I praise you for your choice of venue, or—” my gaze drifted to the pile of empty shrimp shells, the irony thick enough to choke on, “—for suddenly getting over your deathly shrimp allergy?” “Isla!” I reached for the other glass of juice, but her hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. “Nathan! Let me explain!” [ To see how Nathan gets his revenge, unlock the next chapter. ] I looked down at the hand gripping my arm. The wedding band on her ring finger—a matching set to my own—gleamed under the restaurant lights. A flicker of panic crossed her face, and the rage I’d been suppressing surged anew. Before she could utter another word of explanation, I tore my arm from her grasp and slapped her hard across the face. “How dare you hit her!” The boy scrambled from his seat, shoved me hard, and stood protectively in front of Isla, shouting at me. “Who the hell do you think you are? You have no right to touch my girlfriend!” I just looked at him, a bitter laugh bubbling in my throat. My eyes met Isla’s complex gaze. I calmly took a napkin from the table, wiped my wrist where she had touched me, and smiled at her. “Why don’t you tell him?” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Tell him exactly who I am. And whether or not I have the right to hit you.” Isla’s expression shifted from shock to disbelief, and now, seeing my aggression and the boy’s defiant stance, she made her choice. She shielded him, stepping between us. “Nathan, it takes two to tango.” She pulled the boy behind her. My colleague had rushed to my side. “Nathan, you need help?” I just shook my head, my attention fixed on Isla. “We’ve been together for five years, married for two,” she said, her voice suddenly steady. “Have you ever once considered your own faults in this relationship?” She met my eyes without flinching. “I admit, I relied on you to get a foothold in this city. My success is because of you. But that doesn’t give you and your entire family the right to look down on me forever.” She stepped closer. “I can apologize. I can even go home with you right now.” Her face was a canvas of conflict. “But you will not lay a hand on Dylan. He’s innocent.” Even now, she was defending him. “He’s young, he can’t have his name dragged through the mud. And his grandfather’s health is poor, he can’t handle the stress. Whatever is between us—” her eyes darted from me to my colleague, who was glaring at her, “—we can discuss it at home.” Listening to her well-reasoned speech, every word a shield for the boy she called Dylan, was laughable. Five years together, married for three. When she started her business, I was the one begging for favors, calling in every connection I had. My parents leveraged their own relationships for her. Her entire startup capital came from a loan my parents took out against their own assets. Back then, whenever she talked about it, her eyes would well up with tears as she swore to me. “Nathan, I owe you everything. For the rest of my life, I’ll be good to you, and to your family.” Now, that same history had been twisted into this: “Yes, I relied on you. But that doesn’t mean you can let your family disrespect me.” I stared at the woman I had loved for five years. I thought I could handle this calmly, but her words were a vice around my heart, squeezing until I could barely breathe, barely stand. Then, I heard my colleague’s voice, thick with righteous anger. “Are you f*cking kidding me? So you use my boss to get on your feet, and now that you’ve made it, you’re tired of him and want to trade up for a younger model? And you’re trying to pin this on him?” She scoffed. “Who the hell do you think you are?” My colleague stormed past me and got right in the boy’s face. “And you! You’re a homewrecker, and you’re proud of it?” She pointed at the designer necklace around his neck. “Let me guess, my boss’s money paid for that piece of trash too, right?” She was furious. “Take it off! Give it back to him!” She lunged for the necklace. The boy shrieked in terror. Isla grabbed my colleague’s wrist and threw her aside. The table crashed over, dishes shattering on the floor. “Nathan!” Isla screamed. “Is this how you were raised?” The boy, now nestled in Isla’s arms, sobbed. “Isla and I are in love! She doesn’t love you anymore, Nathan! She doesn’t love you!” I watched my colleague hit the floor, still cursing. “I’ll kill you, you shameless cheater and your little homewrecker!” She scrambled up, ready to fight again, but I suddenly felt tired. It was all so pathetic. I stepped in front of her, shielding her from them. I looked at Isla’s wary face and said one thing. “Apologize to my friend.” She looked at me in disbelief. “Isla,” I thought my heart would break, but seeing someone else’s fury on my behalf had given me a strange clarity. “Apologize. To my friend.” “You’re insane!” she yelled. The moment the words left her mouth, I swung my briefcase, slamming it into her head. I grabbed the boy by his hair and smashed his face into the corner of a nearby table. “Isla,” I snarled. “I’m not letting you get away with this.” Then I turned, took my colleague’s arm, and walked out of the restaurant.

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My mother-in-law suddenly collapsed from a brain hemorrhage. I dialed 911 frantically, but a Maybach waiting at a red light ahead refused to budge for the ambulance. I recognized the car—it belonged to my husband, Silas. I called him immediately, screaming for him to move. But the voice that answered was his “True North,” Sarah, his first love who had just returned to the country: “It’s not like someone’s dying. Why are you in such a rush?” I screamed into the phone: “Someone is dying! It’s Silas’s mother in the back of this ambulance!” “She has a brain hemorrhage! If you don’t move now, she’ll miss the golden window for surgery!” Silas grabbed the phone and cursed at me: “Elena, are you insane? “Just because I’m out at lunch with Sarah, you’re making up stories about my mother being sick? I’m not moving an inch!” He didn’t just block the lane; he actively cut off the ambulance multiple times as we tried to navigate traffic. Later, my mother-in-law died in the back of that ambulance. Silas and Sarah ended up in prison. And I? I took over every single asset they ever owned. 1 My mother-in-law, Martha Sterling, was the Chairwoman of Sterling Global. She collapsed during a board meeting. I called 911 immediately, fighting for every second. But as the ambulance raced toward the hospital, we hit a gridlock at the intersection of 5th and Main. A black Maybach sat idling at the red light. Despite the blaring sirens and the air horn, the driver refused to pull into the intersection or move to the shoulder. I knew that car. I knew that vanity plate. It was Silas. I called him, my hands shaking. “Silas, move! Your mom is in the ambulance behind you! “She has a massive hemorrhage! Move now or we lose her!” I expected him to panic, to swerve out of the way immediately. Instead, Sarah’s voice purred through the speakers: “Elena, get a life. “I just got back to the States and wanted to catch up with an old friend. I’m not trying to ‘steal’ your husband. “Why are you being so toxic, claiming Martha is in an ambulance? “Besides, the light is red. What do you expect Silas to do? “There are only thirty seconds left. Can’t you wait? It’s not like the world is ending.” I felt like my own heart was going to stop from the sheer fury: “Are you an idiot? You don’t get ticketed for yielding to an emergency vehicle! You get fined for blocking one! “And is a potential ticket more important than Martha’s life? Do you think this family can’t afford a fine?” The EMTs in the back were sweating, shouting at me: “You said that’s your husband? Make him move! “The patient is losing too much blood. We need her on an operating table ten minutes ago. “If we miss the window, even a miracle won’t save her. Does he want his mother to die?” But on the other end, Silas didn’t believe a word. He thought I was playing a desperate game of jealousy. Sarah continued to whisper in his ear, her voice dripping with “logic”: “Don’t listen to her. If you run the light, you’ll get points on your license. “Sure, you can appeal it, but who has the time? “Especially a CEO-in-waiting like you—your time is money. “It’s only a few more seconds. Just wait. It’s less hassle. “Elena is so desperate she’s actually cursing your mother just to control you. I bet that’s actually her ex-boyfriend, Julian, the actor, in that ambulance.” “I told you, didn’t I? The tabloids said Julian was filming an action scene nearby and got hurt. “Elena is trying to save her ex by using your mom as an excuse. Silas, your wife is wicked. Don’t let her win.” 2 My head throbbed. Silas actually believed I was trying to save my ex? No wonder he wouldn’t move. I used to wonder why a trust-fund brat like him would care about a traffic ticket. The truth was, his time wasn’t worth anything. Silas had zero business acumen; he knew nothing about managing the company. He only knew how to race cars, hit the clubs, and play video games. Martha only chose me as her daughter-in-law because she saw him for the loser he was. She needed someone with my management experience to keep the empire from crumbling. She wanted me to be strong, yet she feared that once she was gone, Silas wouldn’t be able to handle me. That was why she was obsessed with her health—she claimed she’d live to be a hundred. She wanted me to have a son quickly so she could train the third generation herself. And now, her son was using the Maybach she bought him to block her only path to survival. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I screamed into the phone one last time: “Silas Sterling, if you don’t move, your mother is going to die! “And you will never, ever be able to take it back!” Silas sounded completely unbothered, practically whistling into the receiver: “Elena, give it a rest. My mom is fine. She was at the gym yesterday. “You want to save your actor boyfriend? Not on my watch. “Go ahead and plan his funeral. I’m staying right here.” 3 The ambulance driver looked ready to scream: “Is the moron in front seriously your husband? The light is green now! Why is he still blocking us?” The EMTs looked at me, their faces grim: “She’s fading. We need to get her to the ER now. Tell your husband the severity! “If he doesn’t move, it’s over. Is he really her son?” He was. Everyone else gave up on him years ago, and he proved them right every day. I looked at the call that had been heartlessly disconnected, then at my unconscious mother-in-law. I whispered in my head: “Mom, you have to hold on. Don’t die. “If you go, I can’t promise my ambition won’t take over. I’ll kick Silas out of the company so fast his head will spin. “You told me once—once a woman tastes power and wealth, she never wants to go back. I’m not immune to temptation. “Sarah probably knows exactly who is in this ambulance. She wants you dead. “If you’re gone, no one stands in her way of marrying Silas.” Martha was the one who kicked Sarah out of the country years ago. She saw through her. Martha used to say: “My son is a lost cause. My daughter-in-law has to be the backbone. “Otherwise, what happens to the legacy? “Don’t worry about Silas’s flings. Focus on the business. Learn the Sterling way. “I’m training you to take over. You’ll have a son, and we’ll raise him right together.” Sarah figured that if Martha was dead, she could manipulate Silas into divorcing me and throwing me out. She thought she’d become the new Mrs. Sterling and live the high life. Unfortunately for her, she underestimated me. If Martha died, I wouldn’t just divorce Silas. I would make sure both of them rotted in a cell for what they did. Then, I would take every single thing Martha built. 4 CRASH. The ambulance driver finally snapped. he rammed the back of the Maybach, forcing it out of the way. He looked at me in the rearview mirror, panic in his eyes: “Don’t make me pay for that! I can’t afford the paint job on a Maybach! “I’m doing this to save a life! It’s an emergency!” I said quickly, “You won’t pay a cent. Thank you, sir. Just drive.” He sighed in relief. “Copy that.” But the nightmare wasn’t over. As the ambulance tore through the intersection toward the hospital, Silas gave chase. I knew how good Silas was behind the wheel. He spent his twenties on amateur race circuits. He was a “pro.” If he wanted to block us, a heavy ambulance had no chance. The Maybach began weaving, cutting us off again and again, playing a lethal game of cat and mouse on city streets. I tried calling him again. This time, I hit Video Call. If he could see his mother—pale, intubated, dying—he would stop. But Silas wouldn’t pick up. I called once. Declined. Twice. Declined. The third time, his phone was turned off completely. The monitors in the back began to flatline—beep, beep, beep. The EMTs were doing chest compressions. I sat there, watching the woman who had raised Silas alone. His father had died when he was five, leaving her with a massive corporation and a young son. Silas used to tell me: “My mom is the only person in the world who matters. “If she ever needed a kidney or a liver, I wouldn’t even hesitate. “I’d give my life to save hers.” And yet here he was. She didn’t need his organs. She just needed him to move his car. Such a simple thing. And he couldn’t do it. A wave of absurd, hollow powerlessness washed over me. The EMTs were nearly in tears. “The hemorrhage has reached the pons. We’re losing her! “Driver, faster! We’re running out of time!” The driver gripped the wheel, his shirt soaked with sweat. He shouted back: “I can’t get past! “This guy in the Maybach… he’s too good. He’s doing this on purpose! “We’re one block away. One block! “I’m calling the police the second we hit the bay. I want this bastard in handcuffs!” Finally, we reached the hospital gates. The Maybach, realizing he couldn’t block the hospital entrance without causing a massive pile-up, floored the accelerator and vanished into the night. The driver spat out a curse: “Animal! She would have been better off giving birth to a piece of coal than him!” I looked at Martha. A single tear had escaped her closed eyelid. Could she hear us? Was her heart breaking as it failed? I squeezed her hand. “Mom, don’t be scared. We’re here. Hold on.” The ambulance screeched to a halt at the ER bay. The trauma team was waiting. They sprinted her into surgery immediately. But it was too late. The surgeon came out twenty minutes later, his face grim. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. “If she had arrived two minutes earlier… just two minutes. “That was the window. We could have stopped the bleed. “But now… I’m so sorry for your loss. “Call your family. It’s time to make arrangements.” 5 I stumbled, my mind blank except for that one phrase: “Just two minutes.” Those two minutes were stolen by Silas Sterling. He murdered his own mother. The tears finally came, hot and bitter. I picked up my phone and dialed his number again. I wanted to scream: “She’s dead! You killed her! Are you happy now?” But his phone was still off. I called Martha’s assistant, Mark, and told him to come to the hospital. Then, I called my best friend, Sarah—no, not that Sarah—my friend Jane, who worked in PR. “What? Silas and that girl killed Martha? “Is he insane? He blocked an ambulance? “Does he know it was his mother yet? “Does he realize he just killed the only person who actually protected him?” I leaned against the cold hospital wall. “He doesn’t know. He’s probably out celebrating Sarah’s return. “Jane, I need you to leak it. “I know your media channels. Get the dashcam footage from the ambulance. Get the intersection cameras. “I want the whole world to see Silas Sterling blocking his mother’s life flight. “I want the Board of Directors to see that the ‘heir’ is a matricidal coward. I want them to turn on him before the body is even cold.” Jane didn’t hesitate. “Elena, you’re going for the throat?” I knew it was “too soon.” I knew people would judge me for being cold. But I was filled with a hatred so deep it burned. I hated Silas for being a waste of space. And I knew if I didn’t act now, Sarah would whisper in his ear until he kicked me out of the Sterling estate. “If I don’t destroy him now, when?” I asked, my voice cold. “Should I wait until he marries Sarah with Martha’s money? “Martha trained me to be the successor. I won’t let her down. “Sterling Global belongs to me now. “Silas is the only thing in my way. So I’m taking him off the board.” Jane took a sharp breath. “Understood. I’ll make sure he burns.”

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My childhood sweetheart lost his sight in a car accident. Out of the goodness of my heart, I donated one of my corneas to him. Yet, he believed I orchestrated the crash, claiming my donation was a manipulative ploy to force him into marriage and tear him away from his first love. He hated me for the rest of his life. Before he died, he told me he would rather be blind than ever look at my face again. When I opened my eyes, I was back to the moment right before he sped off to win back that first love. I pretended to know nothing. In this life, I don’t want to see him ever again either. 1 In the dead of night, my mom yanked me out of bed. As she hastily threw on her clothes, her face was grim. “Get up, quickly. Your Aunt Clara just called. Noah got into a car accident. We need to get to the hospital, now.” My heart hammered in my chest. It wasn’t until we reached the hospital and I saw Noah’s parents pacing anxiously outside the operating room that it finally hit me. This wasn’t my life flashing before my eyes right before suicide. I was actually reborn. My mom was busy trying to get updates on Noah’s condition. The adults were panicking like lost children. I was the only one calm enough to speak with the doctor. “The family needs to be prepared. The patient suffered severe facial trauma. Both corneas have detached. It’s highly likely he will be permanently blind.” Just like in my previous life, Aunt Clara nearly fainted at the news. I sighed silently, feeling absolutely nothing inside. I simply asked, “His corneas are detached, but can you save his eyeballs?” The doctor promised they would do their best, then shoved a pen into my hand. “What is your relationship to the patient? Sign here, quickly.” The word “wife” almost slipped out, but I forced it back down. I handed the pen to Noah’s father, who was slightly more composed. “I’m just a neighbor. I don’t have the authority to sign.” In my past life, when I heard Noah was going to be blind, my reaction was just as devastating as Aunt Clara’s. After all, I had been secretly in love with him for ten years. The thought of someone as vibrant and free-spirited as Noah never seeing the world again broke my heart, so I donated one of my corneas. Noah regained his sight. After a few days of depression, he proposed to me right there in the hospital. He held me and said, “Emily, from now on, we’ll be each other’s light.” My ten-year unrequited love finally had a happy ending, but I hesitated. “What about Mia?” Noah scoffed, pointing at his eyes. “If she hadn’t thrown a tantrum and broken up with me in the middle of the night, why would I be like this?” His answer was decisive then, but less than two years into our marriage, everything changed. By chance, I saw his search history on an AI app. He had asked the same questions multiple times: [How to make someone’s corneas detach] [Help me design the perfect car accident] [Can a person who died from carbon monoxide poisoning still donate their corneas?] Seeing those searches felt like plunging into hell. I gave him a cornea out of years of affection, and he wanted to take my other one. So, I sealed the doors and windows of our home, lit some charcoal, and drank with Noah for the first time since our wedding. When we were both buzzed, I asked him, “Do you regret marrying me?” Drunk words speak a sober heart. The look he gave me was like a knife. “If I didn’t marry you, how could I repay you for that meticulously planned car accident?” He slammed my diary—I have no idea where he found it—hard onto the table. “Emily Vance! You’ve had a crush on me since we were kids. When you couldn’t have me, you deliberately caused that crash to blind me, didn’t you?!” “When I went blind, you took the opportunity to donate your cornea to trap me into marrying you!” “You destroyed my health, you ruined my relationship with Mia, and you wanted me to feel guilty for the rest of my life! You are so incredibly vicious! I’d rather be blind for the rest of my life than look at your face!” Every word he said shocked me to the core. With red eyes, I tried to explain that it wasn’t true, but he slammed his hand on the table and demanded, “Then why else would you willingly disable yourself just to give me a cornea? Don’t tell me you were brainwashed by that ‘childhood sweetheart’ nonsense! We’re just neighbors! It’s not that deep!” I was utterly paralyzed. So this is how Noah had maliciously interpreted my actions all along. As the carbon dioxide built up, my mind grew hazy. We both died in that room. It wasn’t a painful death. 2 This time, I coldly watched the two families frantically search for a cornea donor, determined not to get involved in Noah’s karma. Aunt Clara was constantly wiping away tears, and my mom looked deeply worried. “Sigh, why would Noah speed out in the middle of the night?” “What was so urgent he had to risk his life? Such a good young man, and now…” Aunt Clara’s face flashed with sudden resentment. “I checked his phone and found out he was secretly dating a girl named Mia.” “She was throwing a tantrum, saying if he wasn’t at the train station in ten minutes, she was leaving the city. Noah panicked and…” I lowered my eyes and stayed silent. No matter how you looked at it, this had absolutely nothing to do with me. Yet, in my past life, Noah somehow managed to pin the blame entirely on me. Just then, a loud crashing sound came from the hospital room. Aunt Clara and my mom rushed in before I could even react. I followed them in to take a look. Noah had knocked over the water glass on his bedside table and fallen out of bed. He had ripped the bandages off his eyes and was blindly feeling around, his eyes red and frantic. “Noah!” Aunt Clara cried out, heartbroken. “Get up, the floor is cold!” “You can’t move around like this right after waking up! You have a fractured leg, be careful!” Noah grabbed Aunt Clara’s hand like it was a lifeline. “Mom, what’s wrong with my eyes?” “Why can’t I see anything?! Why?!” Aunt Clara’s heart ached for her son. She opened her mouth several times but couldn’t force the words out. She covered her mouth, suppressing her sobs until her shoulders shook, terrified of making a sound. Unable to see, Noah looked around frantically, pure panic in his eyes. Finally, my mom couldn’t bear it anymore. She pulled me over to help Aunt Clara lift him back into bed. “Emily? Is that you, Emily?” “Tell me quickly, what happened to me…” I gave Aunt Clara a complex look, and only after she nodded did I speak: “The car accident caused your corneas to detach. You are permanently blind.” Noah froze, immediately blurting out, “Impossible.” I said nothing more. Aunt Clara quickly rushed to comfort him. “Don’t be afraid. Your dad and Uncle Vance are already looking for a donor.” “You’ll get your sight back soon.” How could someone as proud and reckless as Noah handle such a blow? Eventually, the doctor came in on his rounds and issued a stern warning: “You must take absolute care of your eyes right now. If your condition deteriorates further, you won’t be able to have a transplant even if we find a donor.” I smiled silently. If corneas were that easy to come by, Noah wouldn’t have coveted my remaining one in my past life. But isn’t this exactly what he wanted? In this life, at least, he will truly never have to look at me again. 3 Uncle Vance failed repeatedly to find a cornea, his hair turning gray in a matter of days. Noah couldn’t accept the reality of his blindness. He radiated a toxic, aggressive energy. Less than three days after he was admitted, Aunt Clara was hospitalized due to stress-induced high blood pressure. I actively avoided Noah, but my parents scolded me for it. “Emily, our families have always been close. You should at least try to help out.” Unable to get out of it, I finally went. As soon as I entered the room, Noah heard the noise and turned his head. “Emily, right?” I was surprised, then heard him let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I know your footsteps.” “Why haven’t you come to see me? Do I look scary now?” I sat a short distance from his bed, my tone neutral. “I’ve been too busy lately. Couldn’t find the time.” The ten years of unrequited love had been entirely ground away by the torment of our marriage in my past life. In this life, I was thinking clearly. Noah was right. We were just neighbors. He seemed to be waiting for me to comfort him. When I stayed silent, he started feeling around for his phone. Once he found it, he held it out toward the other side of the bed. Speaking to empty air, he said, “Can you check if Mia called me?” “I can’t even unlock my phone. She must be worried sick not hearing from me for days.” I sighed in exasperation. “I’m over here.” Noah froze, a flash of defeat crossing his face. I took the phone and checked. Zero missed calls. Opening his messages, the last chat history was from days ago. I glanced at Noah, and curiosity got the better of me. I opened the conversation. I really wanted to know why he blamed me for his accident in my past life. “Noah! My mom said if you want to marry me, the dowry has to be an entire shopping mall. Non-negotiable.” “Your family is rich. Two malls would be nothing to you. If you’re going to be this insincere, let’s just break up.” Noah’s replies were incredibly subservient. “Let’s talk about this, okay? I’ll talk to my parents.” Mia sent a picture of a train ticket departing in half an hour. “Then come find me when you’ve talked to them.” Noah begged her not to leave. Finally, she relented, but said she would only wait ten minutes. Reading the chat log, I couldn’t help but let out a mocking laugh. They were fighting over a dowry. It had absolutely nothing to do with me. In my past life, just because I was soft-hearted enough to give him my cornea, he took all his anger out on me? “Well? Any news?” Noah asked anxiously. I shook my head and placed the phone on his lap. “No.” “Impossible!” He felt around for the phone, trying to hand it back to me. “Is the battery dead?” “Or maybe it broke in the crash and isn’t receiving messages?” “Emily, could you go buy me a new phone?” Seeing his desperate panic, a surge of vindictive pleasure rose in my chest. As if to punish him, I said deliberately, “Mia hasn’t contacted you. Not even once.” 4 From that day on, Noah made me check his unread messages every day. As the days passed, his panic became obvious. “It’s been so many days. Why hasn’t she reached out?” “Do you think something happened to her?” I looked at him expressionlessly. But then he suddenly said, “Call her for me.” The moment the call connected, Noah’s eyes lit up. It was the first time he smiled in days. “Mia…” The person on the other end wasn’t friendly. “Why are you calling me? I told you I’d only wait ten minutes, and you didn’t show.” “Isn’t that an unspoken breakup? Stop bothering me.” Noah quickly explained, “I’m sorry, Mia, don’t hang up!” “I… I didn’t mean to be late, and I don’t want to break up. It’s just… I got into a car accident. I’ve been in the hospital.” I got up and walked out, afraid that if he got rejected, he’d somehow blame me for it again. But seeing how he acted with Mia made me realize one thing: he truly didn’t love me. We grew up together, and I had never seen him act so pathetic and subservient. When Aunt Clara arrived, I went to find his attending physician. If the car crash was so severe, why did Noah only suffer minor injuries everywhere else, except for his eyes? The doctor looked a bit exasperated. “When they brought him in from the scene, his face was covered in blood.” “We later found out the patient had installed a custom, protruding ornament on the steering wheel logo. When the airbag deployed, it drove the ornament straight into his eyes.” “It’s a real shame…” I raised an eyebrow and went home, finally understanding. In my past life, my entire heart was focused on Noah. It was only when my life flashed before my eyes that I realized I had played a winning hand terribly. This time, I took two-thirds of my savings and bought gold. My mom looked at me suspiciously. “Are you opening a jewelry store?” I smiled and shook my head. “Holding it for appreciation!” When my dad came home that night, he looked depressed. He sighed heavily during dinner. He kept shooting me sideways glances. “We can’t find a cornea anywhere. Noah is probably…” I looked up at him. “You’ve done everything humanly possible. Even if you can’t find one, Uncle Vance won’t blame you.” My parents both stared at me, tentatively testing the waters. “I’m just worried you won’t be able to accept it.” “We know you and Noah have been close since you were kids, and as you grew older…” “If you insist, your mom and I won’t object.” Understanding their unspoken meaning, I set my chopsticks down seriously. “Dad. Mom.” “I don’t like Noah anymore.” “Not because he’s blind, but because he already has a girlfriend. He’s not right for me. We’re just ordinary friends, just neighbors.” “Please don’t say things like that again.” My parents were surprised for a moment, but quickly nodded. “Emily, don’t worry. Whatever you choose, we support you.” 5 A week later, my dad offered to pick Noah up when he was discharged. But Aunt Clara politely declined. “Thank you, but Noah’s friend is coming to pick him up.” “You’ve already done so much for us recently.” That afternoon, we saw a girl helping Noah out of a car. Aunt Clara and Uncle Vance followed behind them, their faces devoid of joy or anger. “I heard Aunt Clara always disapproved of that girl. Why did she change her mind so suddenly?” My mom shook her head. “Noah is blind now. Even if she wanted to object, she can’t.” That evening, Aunt Clara’s family invited us over for dinner. I tried to find an excuse to decline, but Aunt Clara and Uncle Vance came to our door personally. “If Emily is busy today, we can do it another time.” “Your family has helped us so much lately, we don’t know how to thank you. You have to come over for dinner.” Setting Noah aside, Aunt Clara and Uncle Vance had always been incredibly kind to me, in both lives. Unable to refuse, I accepted. When we arrived, my mom went straight to the kitchen to help Aunt Clara. My dad and Uncle Vance sat together, scratching their heads as they called everyone they knew trying to find a cornea. Leaving me awkwardly sitting in the living room with Noah and Mia. Mia acted entirely like the lady of the house, even pouring me a cup of tea. “I heard you’re the childhood friend who grew up with Noah?” I smiled politely. “Not exactly. Just neighbors.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Noah frown. But when Mia leaned into his embrace, his frown immediately smoothed out. Mia smiled shyly. “Noah has been so much more dependent on me since he lost his sight.” I had no interest in competing with her, so I just smiled and played along. In this life, I only wanted to keep my distance from him. Whether he was happy being blind was none of my business. At the dinner table, Aunt Clara and Uncle Vance drank to drown their sorrows. After a few rounds, they were a bit tipsy. I helped Aunt Clara back to her bedroom. “Auntie, please get some rest. Noah’s condition is improving every day, don’t worry too much.” “Everyone is still trying their best to find a cornea.” Aunt Clara covered her face and sobbed softly. “You can’t even buy a cornea with money. We all know it’s just false hope.” “I never wanted Mia to marry into our family… Emily, you and Noah were supposed to be…” I smiled and gently interrupted her. “Auntie, Noah and I are just friends. You should just be happy for him.” Aunt Clara stared at me blankly for a moment, then nodded, her tears flowing even faster. I helped my parents back home. Right before we left, I looked back and saw Mia staring up at the Vance family house, her eyes filled with greed. Knowing Noah, he definitely reached out to Mia after his accident in my past life too. But she rejected a Noah who still had one good eye then. Why would she suddenly change her mind for a completely blind Noah now? Mia definitely had an ulterior motive. 6 Noah and Mia got their marriage license very quickly. By all accounts, this should have been a joyous occasion, but Aunt Clara and Uncle Vance looked deeply troubled. “Why does Aunt Clara have more gray hair now than she did a few days ago?” My mom’s face showed clear frustration with Noah. “Because she’s worrying about him.” “That girl is trouble. Knowing Noah is blind, she took advantage of the situation and demanded an exorbitant dowry. She asked for more than half of the Vance family’s assets, claiming it was ‘compensation’ from their family to her.” “And Noah insists he won’t marry anyone but her. Uncle Vance was so angry he almost had a heart attack.” Marrying Mia was Noah’s life-long obsession. Let alone half their assets, he’d probably gladly hand over his entire net worth. The only ones I pitied were his parents. To suffer such a disaster in their middle age. After dinner, I went to my room. In my past life, I lost an eye. In this life, I was naturally going to travel and see the beautiful scenery of the country. While I was researching travel itineraries, my mom suddenly knocked on the door. “Emily, Noah is here to see you.” I frowned. Thinking about how I had been intentionally keeping my distance from him recently, I got up and went downstairs. “What is it?” Hearing my voice, Noah turned toward me. “Want to go for a walk?” I looked back at my parents, grabbed a coat, and went outside. But I didn’t go far, just stopping under the streetlight right outside our door. Noah felt around with his hands but didn’t move forward. Seeing I wasn’t approaching, he pressed his lips together. “Aren’t you going to help me?” I clicked my tongue. “Men and women should keep their distance. I need to maintain boundaries with a married man.” Noah slowly, tentatively took a step forward, only to trip over a small rock and stumble. I watched him expressionlessly. After all, the memory of him slamming his hand on the table in my past life, screaming that he’d rather be blind than see me, was still incredibly vivid.

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To spite me, my arch-nemesis signed me up for an elite, invitation-only matchmaking service. I was ready to dial his number and scream until my lungs gave out, but then, a flicker of translucent text drifted across my vision like a live stream comment: [The male lead’s move is genius. To avoid a forced marriage with the villainess, he’s throwing her at the feet of the tragic billionaire second lead.] [Too bad the villainess is such a brat. She’s going to insult him within five minutes and send him running. Eventually, this guy becomes the main girl’s personal ATM.] [Dominic is so devoted and rich, and he literally dies saving the heroine at the end. My heart still aches for him.] Wait. Dominic? Dominic Blackwood? The man they call the “Crown Prince of the East Coast”? I swallowed the curses hovering at the tip of my tongue and smoothed my voice into a honeyed purr. “Actually, I’m free tonight. You pick the place.” 01 The voice on the other end was cool, resonant, and carried a magnetic weight. “Perfect, Miss Miller. I’ll send the address shortly.” The line went dead. Before I could process the heartbeat-thumping reality of it, the comments began flooding my vision again. [Wait, wait, wait. This isn’t in the script. Why did the villainess agree? Isn’t she supposed to give him the ‘cold shoulder’ and act like she’s too good for a blind date?] [Oh god, what if she actually sticks to him? My pure-hearted warrior king is in danger!] [Relax, everyone. Aside from her face, Jade Miller is a literal void. She can’t compete with our sweet, angelic Daisy.] I quickly looked up the matchmaking service Dominic had mentioned. My jaw dropped. The membership fee started at a hundred thousand dollars. Hudson, that bastard. He really went all out just to get rid of me. It proved one thing, though: the bridge between Hudson and me wasn’t just burned; it was nuked. An alliance? A marriage? Not in this lifetime. For the date, I went through the full ritual—clarifying shampoo, a silk-press, and the kind of “no-makeup” makeup that actually takes two hours to perfect. Just as I was finishing, my mother called. “Jade, the holidays are coming up, and your father and I were thinking about your future—” “Mom, I have a boyfriend,” I interrupted, cutting the lecture off at the pass. “Since when? Who is he?” “Don’t worry about it. I’ll bring him home for New Year’s so you can inspect the goods.” I hung up, feeling a hollow pit form in my stomach. As the comments said, this was just a meeting. Whether I could actually land the world’s most coveted bachelor was a massive “if.” I looked at my reflection and sighed. “If I can’t seal the deal, I’m going to have to hire an actor to play my fiancé for the holidays.” The comments let out a collective sigh of relief: [Scared me for a second. Turns out she’s just trying to get her parents off her back.] [Dominic belongs to Daisy—and to us! He would never fall for a shallow trophy like her.] [Don’t worry, Dominic has impeccable taste. He’ll see right through her.] At 7:00 PM, I walked into a dimly lit, hushed lounge in Midtown. The moment I saw Dominic, two words echoed in my mind: Pure. Perfection. Broad shoulders, a tailored charcoal suit, and eyes so deep they felt like a confession. He looked better than any Forbes cover I’d ever seen. I sat down, took a breath, and looked him straight in the eye. “Let’s skip the small talk. Are we getting married or what?” 02 The comments exploded. [??? Is she insane?] [A proposal? On the first date? Is this some new kind of psychological warfare?] Dominic clearly hadn’t expected the directness. He froze for a fraction of a second, then a small, intrigued smile played at the corner of his mouth. “I haven’t even introduced myself yet.” I gave him my most sincere, wide-eyed look. “No need. I’m a big believer in vibes, and honestly? You have a very trustworthy face.” [Trustworthy face my ass! She’s just thirsty!] [I told you she’s a total visual chaser. One look at a hot guy and she loses her mind.] Dominic politely finished his introduction anyway, and I shared a few brief details about my life. To keep the momentum from dying, I suggested, “It’s a bit stuffy in here. Want to take a walk?” As long as I wasn’t awkward, the awkwardness belonged to the universe, not me. We needed more contact to build a spark. He didn’t refuse. We headed out to the riverfront path. The evening breeze was cool, carrying the scent of rain and salt. “A man with your credentials shouldn’t need a matchmaking service,” I said, glancing at him. “Didn’t your family set something up for you?” What I really wanted to ask was: Why are you here with someone like me? He watched the dark water of the Hudson River. “I believe in intuition. Marriage is for life. I want to find someone I actually like.” [Listen to that! That’s his romantic soul speaking! That’s why he falls for Daisy later at first sight!] As he spoke, a stray cat darted out from the shadows and rubbed against my heel. I reached into my bag and pulled out a small pouch of premium cat treats. “You carry those around?” Dominic asked, surprised. “Yeah. Tossing loose food on the ground is messy and attracts rats. These come with a little biodegradable tray—it’s cleaner.” I expertly opened the packet. His expression softened significantly. “You have cats?” “Four cats, one rescue dog. You should come over and meet them sometime. They’re better judges of character than I am.” [Calculated! So calculated! She’s building a ‘kind-hearted animal lover’ persona!] [But Dominic is a sucker for that! Dammit, look at the way he’s looking at her.] [Don’t panic! Daisy is about to make her entrance. Once they’re in the same room, the difference will be obvious!] The moment that comment scrolled past, a scream pierced the air: “Stop! Thief!” A girl in a white dress blurred past us. It was her. Daisy. Behind her, an elderly woman was stumbling, crying out in distress. Daisy was running, breathless and beautiful, but she was losing ground. This was it. The villainess’s cue to be a bystander—or a hero. The comments said I was just a pretty face, but they forgot I’d spent three years in competitive MMA and kickboxing. I shoved my designer clutch into Dominic’s arms and took off like a shot. Just as I was about to close the gap on the thief, the comments turned a frantic, bleeding red: [Is she an idiot? The thief has a knife!] 03 Almost simultaneously, I saw the thief’s hand dive into his jacket. My heart hammered against my ribs. My instinct yelled at me to pivot, but my momentum was too high. I couldn’t stop. Suddenly, a dark shadow lunged from the side. A heavy boot connected squarely with the thief’s chest. It was Dominic. The thief went flying with a choked cry, a switchblade clattering onto the pavement. Dominic was on him in a heartbeat, pinning the guy’s arms behind his back with practiced, military precision. Me? Because I’d tried to stop mid-sprint, I tripped over my own feet. There was a sickening crack, and a white-hot flare of agony shot through my knee. By then, Daisy had arrived. Her face was flushed, a few stray hairs clinging to her damp forehead. She looked like a tragic oil painting. She glanced at Dominic first, then finally noticed me crumpled on the ground. She reached out to help. “Oh my god, are you okay?” I hissed through my teeth. “I wanted to say ‘I’m fine,’ but my kneecap is currently filing a formal protest.” [LOL, why is the villainess actually kind of funny?] [Daisy is so gorgeous, though. Even her sweat looks like morning dew.] Daisy took the stolen bag back to the elderly woman, offering sweet, angelic comfort. It was so wholesome I almost wanted to applaud. Dominic watched Daisy’s retreating back for a second, then turned his full attention to me. “Did you call the police?” I nodded, gripping my leg. “On it.” The cops arrived quickly and hauled the thief away. The old woman was still sobbing, saying the bag held the money for her husband’s surgery. Daisy was hovering, her eyes brimming with tears. “Don’t worry, ma’am, we’ll find a way…” Dominic walked over and handed the woman a business card. “Go to this clinic. Tell them I sent you. I’ll cover the costs.” Classic. The second lead’s perfection was truly unparalleled. Watching him and Daisy standing there together, bathed in the streetlights, they looked like the cover of a romance novel. [This is the ‘official couple’ vibe!] [I’m Team Dominic! I officially approve of this match!] [What is the villainess still doing on the ground? Can’t she see the mood? Read the room!] I would have loved to read the room from a standing position, but my leg wasn’t taking orders. Dominic finished with the woman and knelt in front of me. “Can you walk?” “Probably not. I think I’ve officially retired from the track and field team.” [Such an actress. She ran like a beast a second ago, now she’s playing the damsel.] Without a word, Dominic scooped me up in a bridal carry. He didn’t just help me; he tucked me against his chest and carried me all the way to his car. At the hospital, the verdict was a hairline fracture. I stared at the X-ray, wanting to cry. I’d crippled myself for a blind date. Worse was the comment that scrolled by: [Villainess is literally made of glass. So fragile. Unlike our Daisy, who is healthy, vibrant, and full of life.] 04 Bad news travels fast, but in high society, it travels at the speed of light. By the next morning, Hudson had heard about my injury. He strutted into my apartment uninvited, carrying a cane encrusted with Swarovski crystals. “Nice work, Jade. It’s not even Christmas and you’ve already managed to turn yourself into a decorative ornament.” Hudson’s handsome face was twisted into a smirk that begged to be slapped. “I heard you were playing vigilante. Do you have a hero complex or is your skull just thicker than I thought?” I rolled my eyes. “Thanks to you, I’m still breathing. Now, don’t tell my mother.” “Why would I bother?” Hudson leaned against the wall, glancing around. “You live near the university district, right?” I eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you care? Don’t tell me you came here just to check on my health.” His eyes flickered, and his ears turned a faint shade of pink. “I was just passing by. Wanted to see if you’d finally kicked the bucket.” A lightbulb went off in my head. “You’re stalking Daisy, aren’t you?” Hudson jumped as if I’d zapped him with a cattle prod. “Shut up! I have things to do. Bye!” He practically sprinted out the door. The comments confirmed it instantly: [He’s blushing! He only moved to this neighborhood to be near Daisy!] [Classic. He uses the villainess as an excuse just to be in the same zip code as the heroine.] I stared at the closed door. Bastard. Five minutes later, the doorbell rang again. I assumed Hudson had forgotten his keys. I hopped to the door on one foot. “I swear to god, Hudson, if you—” It wasn’t Hudson. It was Dominic. He was standing there with two middle-aged women in nurse’s scrubs. The sight caught me so off-guard that I lost my balance. I started to tilt backward. Dominic moved like lightning, catching me around the waist. In the panic, my hands slammed against his chest to steady myself. Solid. Firm. Perfectly defined. So, the rumors about his gym routine were true. “I heard you were having trouble moving around,” he said, his voice a low rumble near my ear. “I brought some professional help to look after you.” He paused, looking down at me. “But… could you let go of my shirt?” My face burned, but instead of letting go, I tightened my grip, my fingers grazing the muscle beneath the fabric. If Daisy hadn’t snatched him up yet, I wasn’t going to play fair. I tilted my head back, meeting his gaze. “Dominic. About that marriage proposal. Have you made up your mind?” He looked down at me, a spark of something—amusement, perhaps—dancing in his eyes. “Yes.” I blinked. “Wait, what?” He gently took my hands from his chest and held them in his own. “I said yes. But before we get married, do you think you could stop feeling me up?” My brain went completely numb. What did he just say? He said yes? The comments went absolutely nuclear: [WHAT?! IS DOMINIC BLIND?!] [No! My pure warrior king has been captured by a succubus!] [The plot is breaking! THE PLOT IS BREAKING!] As the virtual screams echoed in my mind, I looked at this magnificent man and smiled like the villainess I was supposed to be. To hell with the script. This man was mine. 05 Dominic’s “yes” didn’t just silence the comments; it broke my brain. A few days later, I was tucked into a bed in a VIP wing of the hospital, leg in a cast, holding an apple Dominic had just meticulously peeled for me. The whole thing felt like a fever dream. “So… Mr. Blackwood,” I said, swallowing a piece of apple. “I might have been a little medicated when I asked that. I was kidding. You don’t have to take it seriously.” Dominic was sitting in the armchair by the bed, slowly wiping his hands with a wet nap. He stopped, lifting his eyes to mine. “Kidding?” He was smiling, but a chill ran down my spine. “Miss Miller, I’m a businessman.” He leaned forward, his presence suddenly heavy and suffocating in the best way possible. “In my world, once a deal is struck, there’s no backing out. You made an offer, I accepted. The contract is closed.” [The tension! Is he going dark?] [You’re in for it now, Jade. Dominic hates being played.] [Run! Oh wait, your leg is broken. You’re trapped!] Run? Where would I go? I forced a nervous laugh. “Don’t you think this is a bit fast? Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, date first? Get to know each other… intimately?” Dominic arched an eyebrow. “Intimately? I agree. We should.” My face went scarlet. Was he flirting or threatening me? “What I mean is,” Dominic said, seemingly enjoying my discomfort, “we need to get the paperwork done quickly to satisfy our families. As for getting to know each other, we’ll have a lifetime for that.” He reached into his leather briefcase and pulled out a thick folder. “This is the prenuptial agreement. Take a look.” I scanned the pages. Good god. The assets listed were staggering—real estate, stocks, trust funds. As long as I didn’t do something stupid to trigger a divorce, I’d be set for several lifetimes. [Is he under a spell? Is this real?] [Daisy is going to be devastated! This was all supposed to be hers!] [I don’t buy it. This has to be a trap. He’s going to ruin her.] Trap or not, you’d have to be an idiot to turn down this kind of security. I grabbed a pen and signed my name in bold, sweeping strokes. Dominic looked at the signature, a satisfied glint in his eyes. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Blackwood.” 06 Because of my injury, our “cohabitation” began immediately. “For your recovery,” he claimed. In reality, Dominic was a genius. He had moved my cats and my dog into his sprawling penthouse before I even arrived, claiming he “didn’t want them to get depressed in an empty house.” I watched my high-maintenance Ragdoll cat, who usually treated everyone with utter disdain, purring and rubbing against Dominic’s legs. I felt a pang of betrayal. “Traitor,” I whispered. Dominic, reading a report on the sofa, looked up. “Did you say something?” “Just talking to the cat,” I muttered. Then, the doorbell rang. Dominic went to answer it. I craned my neck to see who it was. The door swung open to reveal Hudson, looking like he’d just sucked a lemon. “Dominic, I heard Jade was staying here…” Hudson stopped dead when he saw me. I was sitting in a wheelchair, wearing one of Dominic’s oversized white button-downs because my own clothes hadn’t been delivered yet. Hudson’s face turned a violent shade of green. “Jade! Have you no shame? Lounging around a man’s house dressed like that?” I rolled my eyes. “None of your business, Hudson. If you’re not here to drop off my mail, get lost. We’re busy.” [SHIPS ARE CLASHING!] [The male lead is jealous! He’s losing it!] [Fight! Fight! Fight!] Hudson lunged forward as if to grab my arm, but Dominic stepped into his path. Dominic was a good three inches taller, and his aura was sheer steel. He kept one hand in his pocket, his voice calm. “Hudson. Breaking and entering is a bit beneath you, isn’t it?” “Dominic, don’t let this woman fool you! She’s just a shallow social climber!” Hudson yelled. Dominic’s eyes went cold. He reached out, grabbed Hudson’s pointing finger, and twisted it just slightly. “Ow! Dammit!” “Watch your tone,” Dominic said, dropping his hand and reaching for a wet nap. “She is my fiancée. I don’t want to hear another disrespectful word about her.” “Fiancée?” Hudson’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Are you… are you serious?” I lifted my chin triumphantly. “Dead serious. Better start saving up for the wedding gift, Hudson. Don’t be cheap.” Hudson looked at me, then at Dominic, then stormed out, slamming the door so hard the glass rattled. [So satisfying! The male lead just got served!] [Dominic is such a protective king. I’m officially a fan!] [But what about Daisy? Isn’t he supposed to love her?] I was wondering the same thing. Speak of the devil… The moment Hudson left, Dominic’s phone rang. He looked at the screen, a small frown forming, and answered. Daisy’s voice, thick with tears, was perfectly audible in the quiet room: “Dominic… I’m at the hospital… that woman’s family is here causing a scene, and I’m so scared…”

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1. It was the third year since I’d severed ties with my parents, and they took me to court. They demanded I pay thirty years of future alimony. They sued me not because they lacked money, but because they wanted to give their adopted son, newly entered into a law firm, a chance to make a name for himself. They knew my health was poor. Because my right kidney had been personally removed by my father, the hospital director, and given to their adopted son. They knew my reputation was in tatters. Because my mother, the lawyer, had set a trap for me to take the fall for their adopted son and go to prison. Yet they still did it. Because one had to avoid suspicion, and the other had to repay a debt. The court ultimately ordered me to immediately pay three hundred thousand dollars. Because that was all the money I had left for a life-saving procedure. Outside the courthouse, my parents held their chins high and declared: “Son, as long as you are in this world, you will never escape your parents.” I thought they were absolutely right. So when the system approached me, stating I had late-stage kidney cancer and no money for treatment, asking if I was willing to go to another world, I immediately agreed. … The first time the system appeared, I was desperately trying to save money for a kidney transplant. I hauled bricks on construction sites by day, worked all night on assembly lines, and delivered food on holidays. Though it was tough, the money accumulated quickly. So, I refused to leave. I chose this world, a world with hope, a world I cared about. But when I finally saved enough money and traveled to another city for the transplant, the police brought me to court instead. Now, the kidney source was gone, and my money was gone too. My loved ones had personally destroyed my hope. The cold wind outside the courthouse hit me, and I shivered, trembling as I asked the system: “Do your previous words still count? If my body dies, I can go to another world?” After receiving an affirmative reply, I looked around for an opportunity. Just then, a thermos pressed against my hand. “Drink some.” I didn’t respond, trying to walk past. My mother grabbed my wrist. I looked down at her pale fingers. It was strange; the embrace that once filled me with longing now only felt like a foreign object on my skin. Uncomfortable. “Let go,” I said. She didn’t, instead stepping closer. “I said, let go.” I used a little force to pull my hand free. Then I wiped the spot she had touched on her expensive cashmere coat. She froze, as if she couldn’t believe I would make such a blunt gesture. As I was about to leave, laughter drifted from nearby. I looked up to see my father laughing as he embraced my adopted brother, Arthur Stone, guiding him into a car, without a single glance at me. Arthur held the lid of a thermos. I looked down, and sure enough, Arthur’s name was engraved on the thermos itself. She was using someone else’s possession again, offering cheap concern. I slammed the thermos to the ground. Actually, when the verdict came down, I wanted to tell them: “I have kidney cancer! That three hundred thousand is my life savings!” I wanted to see if they would show any emotion. But before I could get close, the wind carried their conversation to me. “…This three hundred thousand is just right. Isn’t that the dowry Evelyn wants?” “Arthur, don’t worry, Mom and Dad will definitely help you marry Evelyn properly.” Evelyn. That name stabbed my heart like a knife. My girlfriend of ten years, being married to Arthur with my life-saving money, arranged by my parents. The words that were on the tip of my tongue, along with a metallic taste, were swallowed down fiercely. Now, I was grateful I hadn’t confronted them. How ridiculous, what kind of impulse was that? Staring at the dented thermos, my mother’s jawline tightened. “Are you done making a scene? Come home with me. You’ve been wild for three years, it’s time to settle down.” I looked at her. Once, that expression and tone would send a chill down my spine, making me immediately comply. Now, I just found it like a villain’s lines in a cheesy TV show. I even gave a soft laugh: “Mom, if you care about me so much, aren’t you afraid Arthur will get jealous? Last time you cared about my law exam, he got jealous, sped, and hit someone, and you threw me at the scene to take the blame.” “This time, what do you want me to do?” Since childhood, she had always favored Arthur countless times, simply because Arthur’s parents had died saving her. But I never expected her to send me to prison to take the blame for Arthur. She avoided my gaze, her lips moving. “Let’s not talk about the past… You know, his parents had a debt of gratitude to me…” “Come home, I’ll cook for you myself to make it up.” My eyes turned completely cold as I stared into hers: “Your cooking, I wouldn’t dare to eat.” “Last time I ate it, I lost my right kidney.” Her body swayed, and she instinctively reached out to pull me. I retreated quickly. The day I got out of prison, I was still in the dark, unaware that my own parents had drugged me and left me at the scene to take the blame. She had specially cooked, saying it was a welcome home meal. I was naive and guilty then, thinking I had finally found warmth from my family. I took the soup she offered, touched, and drank it. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, my abdomen in severe pain. My right kidney was gone. From the VIP room separated by a wall, their laughter drifted. My father kept reassuring Arthur: “Don’t worry about the legality of the kidney source. I already arranged a voluntary donation form.” “Outsiders will only be touched, saying I, the director, am selfless, willing to give up my own son’s kidney to save my adopted son.” I wanted to rush over and confront them, but the pain made me roll off the bed, curling up on the floor. My mother came from the next room, coincidentally seeing me. Her steps only faltered for a second, her gaze complex as she avoided mine. The woman before me, why was she holding onto me now? “Alan, at that time Arthur was almost… gone…” “Enough!” I was tired of that explanation. Every time they sacrificed me, it was always the same logic: “no choice,” “he’s more pitiful.” I no longer looked at her, only asking the system in my mind: “System, if I go to another world, can I have parents who truly love me?” Receiving an affirmative answer, I quickly walked towards the road outside the courthouse. My mother stepped forward, grabbing my arm. “Alan! What are you doing now?!” I shook her off forcefully, rushing without hesitation towards an approaching truck. “Alan!!” 2. I ran with all my might, closing my eyes and yearning for a new beginning. Amidst the screeching of tires, a force pulled me away. I fell into an embrace, then was firmly pressed to the ground. Opening my eyes, the truck stopped precisely where I had been moments before. I hadn’t died. Frustration simmered in my heart. My mother’s arm was wrapped around me, her hands feeling me up and down. “Alan! Are you alright?! Where are you hurt?! Speak to me!” I lay sprawled on the ground, not wanting to say a word. But she suddenly gripped my collar tightly. “Alan! What were you trying to do?!” Her voice was sharp, a mix of fear and anger. “Threatening your parents with suicide? Do you think that will drive Arthur away and get you what you want?” “I’m telling you, it’s impossible!” I looked at her flushed, agitated face and just felt weary. In her eyes, everything I did was to compete with Arthur. I was too tired to explain and tried to pry her hands off again. “Let go.” “Look at me!” She held her bleeding elbow in front of my eyes, her voice trembling. “I injured myself like this pulling you back! Don’t you feel anything?” “Alan, where is your heart?” She was resorting to emotional blackmail again. She used to love doing this. Always talking about how hard she worked for money, how difficult it was to struggle among men. I would always soften and obey, swallowing all my grieKamines, silently accepting their favoritism towards Arthur. But now, looking at her bleeding elbow, my heart was a dead calm. I even swatted her hand away with disgust. “Your blood, you’ve stained my clothes.” She froze, looking at me with a deeply hurt expression. I couldn’t help but scoff. What did she have to be hurt about? All these years, when she turned a blind eye to the harm she inflicted on me, where was her heart? Now that I was merely retaliating, why couldn’t she bear it? I pushed her away and got up, patting the collar where she had touched me. “Don’t follow me. We have no relationship.” “No relationship?!” She stumbled to her feet. “Alan! I’m your mother!” I stopped, a faint, bitter smile touching my lips. “Didn’t you publicly disown me already? What, do you forget things easily?” That was at Arthur’s kidney transplant recovery banquet. Arthur, a bit drunk, raised his glass to thank me. In his drunken ramblings, he revealed that after the accident, my mother had drugged me and left me at the scene to take the blame. I served five years in prison; a top law graduate from an elite university reduced to a convict. I completely broke down and confronted them. But she, without batting an eye, told everyone that my mental state had deteriorated after prison. In that moment, all my suppressed grieKamines and anger erupted. I overturned tables, shouting hoarsely about how she had always favored Arthur since childhood, how she had sacrificed me. Losing face in front of everyone, she pointed at me and coldly said: “Fine! Since you hate me so much, I’ll pretend I never gave birth to you!” “From now on, whether you, Alan, live or die, it has nothing to do with us!” The words of disownment were spoken by her own mouth. I looked at her, now furious, and said, word by word: “Since we’re disowned, what right do you have to care whether I live or die?” 3. With that, I turned and walked away. A long silence followed behind me, then her voice sounded again: “No matter what, you are my only son! You are a Thorne heir!” “Am I?” I sneered. Her body trembled, as if she had just realized that the nominal heir of the Thorne family was Arthur. It was she who had personally brought Arthur into her law firm, publicly confirming his identity. And I, the true heir, was merely a disgraced ex-convict. My laughter grew louder, but tears, without warning, streamed down my face. I, too, once couldn’t understand. How did the parents who held me on their laps to teach me letters, who were so proud of me, turn into strangers so fiercely protective of an outsider? After countless sleepless nights, I finally understood: one of them was a fanatic, willing to use the entire family to repay a debt of gratitude. The other was a hypocrite, willing to sacrifice everything to preserve his reputation as a director. Before gratitude and reputation, I would always come last. She pulled me into the car without a word, her head lowered. “Alan, stop making trouble. Today is Arthur and Evelyn’s wedding. Just come with Mom for now.” “After Arthur gets married, Mom will have repaid her debt, and then I’ll make it up to you properly.” I had heard such words since childhood. “When your brother’s competition is over, Mom will take you to the amusement park.” “When Arthur gets into college, Mom will definitely make it up to you properly.” Every promise was like a bubble, bursting at a touch. I tried to break free, but the kidney cancer flared up. I was too weak from the pain and was dragged into the car. The car was filled with the smell of blood. Her arm kept bleeding, and cold sweat beaded on her forehead. But she gripped my wrist tightly, afraid I would run again. “Let go.” My voice was calm and even. But she clutched tighter, her nails almost digging into my flesh. “Alan, you don’t need to compete with Arthur… haven’t you always wanted to be a lawyer? You can join my law firm.” I twitched my lips, forcing a cold, emotionless smile: “What about Arthur? Didn’t he already join your law firm?” Her grip on my hand loosened for a second: “Arthur… after all, he’s called me ‘Mom’ for so many years. The law firm… will definitely be handed over to him in the future.” She paused, then lowered her voice: “…You have a criminal record; independent practice is impossible. If you follow Arthur, work as his assistant, you can still use the firm’s resources.” “Brothers working together, that’s how the family business stays stable. You should understand that now.” I leaned against the car window, the kidney cancer pain coming in waves. But clearer than the pain was an absurd nausea. They used my kidney to save Arthur, used my future to cover Arthur’s crime. Now, they even wanted to use my life to be Arthur’s stepping stone. Dream on! I grabbed the handbrake and pulled it up sharply! “Alan! Are you crazy?!” The wheels locked instantly, and the car spun wildly, tailing out of control! Finally, with a “bang,” it slammed into the concrete barrier. Violent tremors shook my entire body; the world spun. I had deliberately not buckled my seatbelt, anticipating death. But the airbags absorbed most of the impact. After the dizziness and pain, my consciousness was still clear. I immediately reached for the car door. Outside was a stream of fast-moving traffic; there was still a chance! “Alan!!” My mother lunged at me, gripping my arm tightly. “Do you hate me that much?!” Her eyes were red-rimmed, her voice hoarse. “Hate me so much… you want to drag me with you to die?!” I shrugged indifferently, pulling at the corner of my mouth: “Hate? Not worth it. I just want to take a different path. You insisted on following, so the consequences are yours.” Instantly, the color drained from her face. But she still held me tightly, half-dragging, half-pulling me into a taxi. We arrived at the wedding venue.

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My older sister suffered from severe neurasthenia. She couldn’t tolerate even the slightest noise. If I made a sound, she would scream and claw at her own face. To protect her, I even had to tiptoe when walking around our house. This winter, our apartment’s heating failed. I caught a severe case of pneumonia. Whenever the urge to cough hit me, I had to desperately cover my mouth. But one night, I couldn’t hold back a muffled cough. My sister woke up instantly, crying and screaming that her head was exploding. My mother stormed into the room. Looking at my face, which was purple from holding my breath, her eyes held nothing but disgust. “Can’t you just hold it in?! Do you have to torture your sister like this?!” To give my sister a quiet environment to sleep, my mother grabbed a roll of heavy-duty duct tape and wrapped it tightly around my mouth and nose. “You’re standing on the balcony tonight. You can come back inside when you learn how to be quiet.” The freezing wind howled. The phlegm from my infected lungs blocked my airway. I desperately pounded on the glass, begging for help. But my father just pulled the curtains shut. “The kid watches too much TV. She’s just playing the victim. She’ll be fine by tomorrow.” But I never saw tomorrow. It was a winter night, five degrees below zero. The cold was piercing. I was wearing thin cotton pajamas, standing barefoot on the ceramic tiles of the balcony. With every agonizing breath, phlegm bubbled up, blocking my throat. “Cough… cough…” I desperately wanted to cough out the sludge blocking my windpipe. But my mouth and nose were tightly sealed with duct tape. To make sure my sister didn’t suffer, I listened to my mother and didn’t tear the tape off. My chest began to heave violently from oxygen deprivation. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would explode. I turned around and desperately slapped my hands against the glass door. Please… let me in… I won’t cough anymore… I can hold it… I’m so cold… I can’t breathe… Through the glass and the slight gap in the curtains, I could see the warm, yellow light of the living room. The thermostat on the wall read “78°F”. My mother was sitting on the sofa, holding my sister, Annie, in her arms, gently patting her back. “Don’t be scared, Annie. Mommy kicked your sister out to the balcony to reflect on her behavior.” “You can finally get a good night’s sleep tonight.” Annie nestled into our mother’s embrace. There were tears on her face, but the corners of her mouth were turned slightly upward. She pointed toward the balcony, seemingly saying something. My father walked over from the master bedroom, looking annoyed, and yanked the curtains completely shut. The last sliver of light vanished. Darkness instantly swallowed me whole. Only the howling blizzard outside the balcony continued its rampage. I thought back to before dinner. I had just let out a soft cough because I couldn’t suppress the tickle in my throat. Annie, who had been watching TV, suddenly hurled the remote control at me. “Mia! Did you do that on purpose?!” “Are you trying to kill me with that noise?! Ahhh, my head hurts so much!” Annie grabbed her head and screamed, her fingernails gouging bloody tracks down her own cheeks. My mother rushed out of the kitchen, not even bothering to put down her spatula, and backhanded me across the face. “Mia! How many times have I told you your sister has neurasthenia and can’t stand any noise?!” “How dare you cough in front of her!” I covered my burning cheek. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I didn’t dare let them fall. Because my mother had told me that crying was also noise. “Mommy, I didn’t want to cough… but my throat tickles so much…” I tried to explain. I tried to tell her that I had been dizzy and burning with a fever for three days. I tried to tell her that I was coughing up streaks of blood. But my mother didn’t listen at all. She only saw the scratch marks on Annie’s face. She only saw Annie screaming in agony. “Your lungs hurt? I think you’re just full of wicked schemes!” “Are you faking being sick just to get attention because you think we care too much about your sister?!” “How many times have I told you we don’t love you any less? Your father and I are already exhausted from work. Stop causing us trouble!” And so, that roll of heavy-duty duct tape used for sealing moving boxes was wrapped around my face. Every layer was accompanied by my mother’s exhausted glare and my sister’s smug sniffling. The feeling of suffocation grew stronger. Dark spots danced in my vision. I wanted to knock on the glass one more time. But my hands were frozen stiff. They were so heavy I couldn’t even lift them. My body slid uncontrollably down the glass. My knees slammed into the hard tile, but I couldn’t even feel the pain. My consciousness began to blur. In my delirium, I thought I saw my grandmother, who had passed away three years ago. She was standing outside the balcony, smiling kindly and waving at me, holding my favorite roasted sweet potato. “Mia, come to Grandma. It’s not cold here, and you don’t have to hold in your coughs.” Tears flowed uncontrollably. They seeped into the gaps in the duct tape and quickly froze into ice crystals. Mommy, I’m sorry. Next time… I promise… I won’t cough. If I don’t cough… will you hug me… like you hug my sister? The moment that thought crossed my mind, my heart stopped beating for the last time. My body curled into a tiny ball, collapsing stiffly into the corner. Snowflakes drifted down, slowly burying me. My body felt so, so light. I found myself floating in mid-air. Below me was my own body, curled up in the corner of the balcony. The tape was still wrapped around my face, and my eyelashes were covered in white frost. Mia, you look so ugly. No wonder Mommy didn’t like you. I passed through the sliding glass door and floated into the warm living room. The clock read 2:00 AM. My sister, who supposedly couldn’t tolerate a single sound, was currently hiding under her covers. But she wasn’t sleeping. The faint blue light of a phone screen glowed from beneath the blanket. She was wearing headphones, her thumbs furiously tapping the screen. To prevent our parents from catching her, she had the blanket pulled tight over her head. As I floated closer, I could still hear the intense sounds of a video game shootout leaking from her headphones. “Push! You idiot teammates!” My sister cursed softly under her breath, her cheeks flushed red with excitement. Where was the neurasthenia? Where was the agonizing headache caused by noise? It turned out she wasn’t afraid of noise at all. She just didn’t want to hear my voice. I turned and floated toward the master bedroom. My parents were sleeping soundly. My mother was even snoring softly. Weren’t those snores noise? Why couldn’t my sister hear them? Why wasn’t she screaming and clawing at her face because of them? I floated to the edge of the bed, looking at my mother’s sleeping face. I wanted to reach out and touch her, to ask her why she sealed my mouth with tape. But my hand passed right through her body. A wave of freezing cold made me pull my hand back. I was already dead. Dead on that balcony they had forgotten about. Even in death, it seemed I hadn’t brought them any peace. At 6:00 AM, the alarm clock rang. My mother stretched and got out of bed. The first thing she did was go to the kitchen to make breakfast. Eggs sizzled in the pan, filling the air with a comforting, domestic smell. She was also frying golden, crispy dough sticks—Annie’s favorite. My father woke up too, tying his tie while watching the morning news. The anchor reported: “A severe cold front hit the city last night, causing temperatures to plummet to five degrees. Residents are advised to stay warm…” My father frowned and walked over to the balcony door. He pulled the curtain back just a fraction and peeked outside. My ghostly heart leaped into my throat. Dad, do you see me? Do you see that I’m not moving? But a thick layer of frost covered the window, blurring his vision. Combined with the fact that I was curled up in the corner, half-buried in snow, I just looked like a pile of discarded clutter. My father didn’t see a thing. He even scoffed. “That kid is so stubborn. Still hiding out there.” My mother walked out of the kitchen holding a plate. “Ignore her. She’s just spoiled.” “We indulged her too much in the past, that’s why she’s so unruly now.” “So young, yet so manipulative. She actually faked having pneumonia just to fight for attention.” “Let her freeze! When she admits she’s wrong, then she can come in.” Annie walked out wearing pink pajamas, rubbing her eyes. Smelling the food, her eyes lit up. “Wow! Mom! Fried dough sticks! My favorite! I love you, Mom!” She grabbed one and stuffed it into her mouth, getting grease everywhere. My mother wiped the grease from the corners of her mouth. “Slow down, no one is fighting you for it.” “Go call your sister inside.” “Even though she’s immature, she’s still family. We can’t actually let her starve.” Annie pouted reluctantly. “I don’t want to. Seeing her gives me a headache.” “Be good. Give her a way to save face,” my mother coaxed. Annie reluctantly put down her food and slowly trudged over to the balcony door. She didn’t open it. She just pressed her face against the glass and made a grotesque face at me in the corner. “Nyah nyah, serves you right!” “That’s what you get for trying to steal Mom and Dad! I hope you freeze to death!” After cursing at me, she ran back to the dining table and announced loudly: “Mom! Mia says she’s not hungry!” “She said she wants to keep standing there to reflect on her actions and told us to leave her alone!” Floating in mid-air, I desperately wanted to defend myself. But both my parents believed her immediately. My mother slammed her chopsticks down on the table. “Fine! If she doesn’t know what’s good for her, so be it!” “Then let her stand out there! No one is allowed to open that door for her!” “Let’s see how long her stubbornness lasts!” My father scoffed coldly. “Don’t worry about it. Skipping a few meals will fix her attitude.” They went back to eating their steaming hot breakfast, discussing where to go for the weekend. No one spared another glance at the balcony. That morning, only my mother and sister were left at home. Before leaving for work, my father specifically instructed: “Don’t coddle Mia. Annie’s condition just started improving; we can’t let her get stressed.” My mother nodded repeatedly in agreement. Annie lay on the sofa and turned on the TV. She muted it, then expertly slipped on her massive, over-ear headphones. Her body thrashed wildly to whatever beat she was listening to, and she hummed loudly. I floated over and peeked at her phone screen. It was a heavy metal music video. The drumbeats were so intense they felt like they could shatter a person’s heart. I suddenly remembered something that happened six months ago. My mother wasn’t home that afternoon. Annie was sitting there, listening to music with her headphones, exactly like this. I was thirsty and went to pour some water, accidentally knocking over a cup. Annie instantly ripped off her headphones, rushed over, and brutally pinched my thigh. “Mia, if you dare tell Mom I was listening to music, I’ll kill you!” To prove she wasn’t joking, she threw a massive tantrum in front of my mother that night, screaming that I was making noise and triggering her illness. The result was my mother forcing me to kneel on the floor all night. My knees were bruised purple. From that day on, I never dared to say a single bad word about my sister. I thought that as long as I was obedient, as long as I lived like a ghost, she would leave me alone. Knock, knock, knock. Someone was at the door. It was Mrs. Wang from next door. She stood there smiling, holding a handful of green onions. “Carol, can I borrow some green onions? I ran out while cooking.” My mother quickly grabbed some from the kitchen and handed them over. Mrs. Wang peeked inside the apartment and asked, confused, “Hey? Where’s little Mia?” “Doesn’t she usually play with her blocks in the living room around this time?” The smile on my mother’s face froze. She quickly recovered and lied smoothly: “Oh, Mia. She caught a little cold. I was worried she might infect Annie, so I sent her to stay at her grandmother’s for a couple of days.” Mrs. Wang frowned, as if trying to recall something. “Last night, in the middle of the night, when I got up to use the bathroom, I swear I heard noises coming from your balcony.” “It sounded like… someone slapping the glass, and this muffled whining sound, like a kitten scratching.” “I was thinking, in this freezing weather, whose poor cat was left outside to suffer?” Mrs. Wang’s words drained all the color from my mother’s face. Her eyes unconsciously darted toward the heavy curtains covering the balcony door. Last night… was Mia really slapping the door? A creeping terror began to claw its way up my mother’s spine. I held my spectral breath. Mom, are you going to realize? Are you going to go look? Right at that moment. “Ahhh! It’s too loud!” Annie shrieked from the sofa. She ripped off her headphones, covered her ears, and thrashed around on the cushions. “Mrs. Wang is talking too loud! My head is going to explode!” “Make her leave! Tell her to get out!” Annie’s shrill, agonizing cries instantly drowned out everything else. Mrs. Wang jumped back in fright. “Oh dear, is Annie having an episode? Okay, okay, Grandma is leaving. I won’t bother you.” My mother’s attention snapped back instantly. Abandoning all thoughts of the balcony, she rushed over to hold Annie, patting her while apologizing to Mrs. Wang: “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Wang. Her illness is acting up. I’ll have to ask you to leave.” The door slammed shut. Mrs. Wang’s sigh was sealed outside. “That poor child, what a strange disease…” Inside, my mother held Annie, her heart breaking. “It’s okay, it’s okay. She’s gone. No one is making noise anymore.” Hiding in our mother’s arms, Annie shot a vicious, venomous glare toward the balcony through the gap between her mother’s arms. After calming Annie down, my mother sat exhaustedly on the sofa. Her gaze landed on the closed sliding glass door of the balcony. “With a blizzard that huge… did that child really stay out there without making a single sound?” “What Mrs. Wang heard last night… was it really just a cat?” My mother stood up and took two hesitant steps forward. My soul floated right in front of her, screaming: “Mom! I’m right behind there! Just open the curtains!” “Just look! Just one glance!” My mother’s hand rose. Her fingertips brushed the fabric of the curtain. Just one simple pull. And the truth would be revealed. “Mom! I want strawberries!” Annie suddenly yelled, jumping off the sofa and throwing her arms around our mother’s leg. “I want those big, sweet milk strawberries! I want them right now!” My mother’s hand stopped. She looked down at her whining older daughter, and the hesitation in her eyes vanished instantly. “Okay, okay, strawberries it is.” “Mommy will go wash them for you right now.” She pulled her hand back and turned toward the kitchen. The truth, just two steps away, was abandoned once again. By noon, the snow outside was falling heavier than ever. Huge, goose-feather flakes drifted down, quickly accumulating into a thick layer on the balcony. Curled up in the corner, I was now completely transformed into a mound of snow. Only the faintest hint of my pink pajamas was still visible. If they didn’t find me soon, I would be permanently buried in this winter. My mother was busy making lunch in the kitchen. Passing by the dining table, she noticed a bottle of cough syrup and antibiotics sitting on the edge. I had secretly bought those from the pharmacy three days ago. Because my mother told me there was no money to take me to the doctor. All the money had to be saved for Annie’s therapy sessions. Seeing the half-empty bottle of medicine, she stopped walking. She finally remembered my severe cough. “It’s so cold out there… what if her pneumonia gets worse?” “If she actually freezes and something happens…” My mother sighed and put down the kitchen knife. “I should just let her in. She needs to take her medicine.” “At worst, I’ll make her wear a mask so she doesn’t infect Annie.” Muttering to herself, my mother wiped her hands and walked toward the balcony. Annie was sitting on the rug playing with her building blocks. Seeing what our mother was doing, she immediately jumped up, on high alert. “Mom, what are you doing?” “I’m going to bring your sister inside to eat and take her medicine,” my mother explained. Annie immediately threw her arms wide, blocking the path. “No! You can’t let her in!” “She’s just pretending to be pitiful! It’s a trick!” “If you let her in now, then all the suffering I went through was for nothing! My head is going to start hurting again!” Annie stood there aggressively, her face full of hostility. This time, my mother frowned. “Annie, stop throwing a fit. It really is freezing out there. It’s five below zero.” Her tone carried a hint of strictness as she stepped around Annie and walked straight to the balcony. Panicking, Annie grabbed the hem of her mother’s shirt and started wailing loudly: “No, no, no! I want her to stay outside!” “I want strawberries! I want to watch TV! I want you to play with me!” She tried using the exact same tactics that had worked a hundred times before to distract her mother. But this time, my mother just gently pushed her hands away. “Stop crying. Wait until I get your sister inside.” My mother’s hand grasped the handle of the sliding glass door. The icy metal made her shiver. My soul watched from the side, feeling as if my dead heart had started beating again. Swoosh— She yanked back the heavy blackout curtains. The harsh, pale midday sun pierced through the glass, shining mercilessly into the room. My mother instinctively squinted, raising a hand to block the glare. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, her gaze fell onto the corner of the balcony. The next second. She froze completely. Her mouth opened wide, but no sound came out. Her pupils contracted violently, reflecting the horrifying scene before her. In the corner of the balcony. There was a tiny figure, curled up into a tight ball. Covered entirely in a thick layer of snow. Layers upon layers of heavy-duty duct tape were wrapped tightly around the lower half of my face, digging deeply into the flesh. Because of the extreme cold, the edges of the tape had completely fused with the skin. The eyes, left exposed above the tape… They were bulging, completely bloodshot, staring rigidly toward the living room. Dry, frozen tears clung to the corners of the eyes. The living room was dead silent. The only sound was the clatter of Annie’s building blocks collapsing. “Mom, why aren’t you moving?” “Is Mia still pretending to sleep?” Annie’s innocent yet venomous voice shattered the silence. “AHHHHHH—!!!” A shrill, blood-curdling scream that sounded entirely inhuman nearly blew the roof off the apartment. My mother’s legs gave out, and she collapsed entirely in front of the sliding door. “Mia… Mia, don’t scare Mommy…” “Stop pretending… Mommy is letting you in now… please, just move…” Babbling incoherently, sobbing and screaming, she crawled across the floor on her hands and knees. Like a madwoman, she clawed at the duct tape that had sealed away my breath. A sickening, tearing sound echoed through the air. Because the tape and the skin had completely frozen together, ripping it off revealed lips that were a horrifying, bruised purple. The mouth was stuffed full of pink ice crystals—frozen blood and phlegm. Seeing this, my mother’s stomach violently heaved, but she couldn’t make a sound. She suffered a total, absolute mental collapse. “How did this happen… how did this happen…” “I just wanted you to be quiet… I didn’t want you to die!” Right at that moment, the front door opened. My father had rushed home during his lunch break, feeling uneasy. The moment he walked in, he saw my mother collapsed in the snow on the balcony, and the horrifying corpse curled up in the corner. “Carol! What are you doing?!” He rushed over and shoved my mother aside. When he got a clear look, his knees buckled, and he dropped into the snow. “Mia? Mia?” With trembling hands, he checked under my nose for breath, then felt for a pulse at my neck. No breath. No pulse. “Dead… she’s really dead…” My father’s face turned as pale as paper. His lips trembled, his eyes vacant. In the living room, Annie realized something was wrong. She climbed up from the rug, still clutching a Lego piece. Seeing the horrific scene on the balcony, she didn’t burst into terrified tears like a normal child would. Instead, she frowned, a look of utter disgust crossing her face. “Ugh, that is so gross.” “Mom, why are you screaming so loud?! It’s so annoying! My head is starting to hurt again!” “Just throw her out! It’s not like she’s talking anyway.” In that moment, her voice echoing through the deathly silent apartment sounded exceptionally grating. My father snapped his head around, staring fiercely at the older daughter he had always treated like a princess. In his eyes, there was only unfamiliarity and sheer horror. “SHUT UP! THAT IS YOUR SISTER!” He roared. His voice was frighteningly hoarse. Annie jumped, startled. She froze for a second, then burst into dramatic, aggrieved tears. “You yelled at me! You yelled at me for her!” “I’m telling Grandma! You’re all bullying me!” My father ignored her tantrum. He stripped off his own winter coat and tried to wrap it around my tiny, stiff corpse. But the body was frozen solid in a fetal position. It was impossible to straighten the limbs. He had no choice but to scoop me up, snow and all, holding me tight against his chest. “To the hospital… yes, the hospital…” “They can still save her… they have to be able to save her…” Muttering like a man possessed, he stumbled out the door holding my body. My mother remained paralyzed on the floor, staring blankly at the dark red bloodstain left on the tiles, her eyes entirely devoid of focus.

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When my little brother’s pre-school physical revealed his blood type didn’t match ours, my dad demanded a divorce. A paternity test proved it: my brother was my mother’s child, but not my father’s. He was my “half-brother.” The boy I had called “little brother” for seven years was actually my uncle. It turns out that when the precious, only son becomes a cosmic joke, the neglected daughter can suddenly become the golden child. 1 The year my mom was pregnant with my brother, the incense burning in front of the fertility shrine in our living room never went out. When the ultrasound revealed it was a boy, my dad went up and down the hallway handing out cigars to everyone he saw, his voice booming so loud the whole apartment building could hear: “The Miller family finally has an heir!” My bedroom was cleared out and painted sky blue. A corner of the living room was sectioned off with an old bedsheet, and that became my new “bedroom.” My mom pointed at my faded stuffed animals and elementary school certificates: “Throw this useless junk out. Don’t let it take up my son’s space.” After my brother was born, his nickname became “Precious.” As for me, growing up, they mostly referred to me as “that girl,” or they just didn’t address me at all. At the dinner table. My mom would pick the vegetables my brother didn’t like out of his bowl and drop them into mine. “Eat this, it has the same nutritional value.” If my brother threw a tantrum and knocked something over, I was the one who got yelled at for not cleaning the table fast enough. When my brother was in kindergarten and wanted a two-hundred-dollar motorized toy car, they bought it without blinking an eye. When I was in middle school and wanted a thirty-dollar study guide, I had to listen to her complain about it for half a month. “All you know how to do is waste money! What’s the point of a girl studying so much? I think finishing middle school is enough for you. Mrs. Henderson next door is hiring at her salon; you should go learn a trade and start earning money to help out the family.” My dad, whose eyes rarely left the TV, chimed in: “Your mother is right. What’s the point of three years of high school? Better to start working early. In a few years, find a decent family to marry into, and our job is done.” I stared blankly at the only family portrait in our house. It was taken for my brother’s 100-day celebration. I was standing on the far edge, smiling a smile that looked worse than crying. In the future they planned for me, I was a straight, downward-sloping line. Drop out, work menial jobs, get married, and use my fleeting value to feed this family that revolved entirely around my brother. 2 This continued until the summer after I graduated middle school. My brother was getting ready to start elementary school. The results of his school enrollment physical came out on a Thursday morning. During lunch, my dad slammed the piece of paper down hard onto the glass dining table. My brother stopped whining for lobster. Startled, he dropped his spoon into his bowl, splashing rice water everywhere. “Our son is type AB,” my dad said, glaring at my mom. “I’m type A, you’re type O. Tell me, how exactly did we produce an AB child?” “What are you yelling for?! You’re scaring our Precious!” Having a son gave my mom all the power in the house, so she no longer bothered to hide her domineering and unreasonable nature. “Is it that young guy who moved in downstairs? I’ve noticed that ever since he moved in, you dress to the nines just to take out the trash.” “Bullshit! The test results must be wrong.” My mom looked at the lab report. She said it was a mistake, but her fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of the tablecloth tightly. “I took him to get tested myself.” My dad yanked my brother, who was now crying in fear, toward the door. As he passed the kitchen and saw me washing dishes, he barked, “You come too.” After the test, my mom quickly coaxed my brother into his room. As the door closed, I could hear his quiet sobs. Having been spoiled since birth, he had never seen our parents act like this. I went to the balcony to take the clothes out of the washing machine and hang them up. In the living room. My mom was sitting with her legs crossed, cracking sunflower seeds. She spat the shells all over the floor, spit flying everywhere as she ranted: “When that stupid report comes back, I’m definitely suing that garbage clinic. They’re going to pay me tens of thousands for emotional distress.” “And you, Richard Miller, don’t think you’re getting away with this easily!” My dad didn’t say a word. He just chain-smoked, one cigarette after another, until the ashtray looked like a small mountain. 3 The report wouldn’t be ready until Monday afternoon. The entire weekend, my dad chain-smoked until the apartment was choked with smog, and my mom lost all her usual patience for my brother’s crying. On Saturday afternoon, my best friend from middle school asked me to go to the bookstore with her to pick out some high school study guides. It was the only thing I had been looking forward to all summer. Just as I was about to head out, my brother charged at me like a little cannonball and hugged my leg. “Sister, play with me! I want to play Ultraman fighting monsters!” “Sister has to go out for a bit. I’ll play with you when I get back tonight, okay?” “No! I want to play right now!” His mouth puckered, and he started to wail. My mom poked her head out of the kitchen, her face dark. “Where are you running off to now? If your brother wants you to play with him, then play with him. All you know how to do is run wild outside. Do you have any idea how to be an older sister?” “Mom, you promised I could go to the bookstore with my friend. And it’s just for a little while…” “What promise?! Do you not see what’s going on in this house right now? Stop causing trouble.” she wiped her hands and walked over. “You stay home and watch your brother.” The last flicker of hope in my heart snapped and died. My mom turned and went back to the kitchen. I took a deep breath, crouched down, and tried to reason with my brother. He casually grabbed an orange and threw it at my face. “Troublemaker!” “Leo, if you keep acting like this, I’m going to get mad!” “You wouldn’t dare! Just you wait.” As he yelled, he ran toward the “bedroom” separated by the old bedsheet. My heart tightened, and I chased after him. “What are you doing?” Too late. He ducked under the sheet and immediately spotted the manila envelope sitting next to my pillow. Inside was my acceptance letter to City High School. It was the proof of my hard work, earned over countless nights studying amidst the blaring TV and my brother’s crying. “What’s this?” He picked it up curiously. “Put that down! You can’t touch that!” My voice cracked. Seeing my panic only egged him on. He deliberately held the envelope high, a nasty smirk on his face. “Mommy, Daddy! Sister’s hiding something good!” “Give it to me!” I lunged to grab it back. “No, I won’t! Garbage from a money-drain!” Under my horrified gaze, his two small hands grabbed both ends of the envelope and pulled hard. Riiiiiiiiip— The sound of tearing paper felt like a knife slicing into my heart. The paper with my name on it, my only hope for the future, was torn clean in half. Still not satisfied, he ripped it a few more times, letting the pieces fall around his feet like snow. I stared at the shreds on the floor, my mind buzzing. Months of endurance, grievance, and my faint hope for the future were torn to shreds in an instant. “Ah!” I let out a low, guttural roar that I didn’t even recognize as my own. I charged at him, shoved him hard to the floor, pinned him down, and rained punches on him. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” My brother was stunned for a second before erupting into earth-shattering wails. “WAAAAAH… Mommy! Sister’s hitting me! Mommy, help!” My mom rushed in. Seeing me on top of my brother, her eyes instantly turned red. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and violently yanked me off him. The immense force sent me stumbling backward into the bed frame, the back of my head throbbing with pain. “Are you out of your mind?! How dare you hit your brother! It’s just a stupid piece of paper; so what if he tore it?! Do you really think you’re going to that useless high school? Let me tell you, no way in hell! You vicious little brat. He’s your own brother!” My brother hid behind my mom, crying while simultaneously making faces at me. There wasn’t a single tear on his face. My mom hugged him tightly, checking him for injuries, cooing endlessly: “Don’t cry, Precious. Mommy’s here. Mommy will hit her! This jinx, daring to touch my son!” My arms hurt, my scalp was burning, but none of it compared to the gaping hole in my chest. Hearing the noise, my dad came in from the balcony. He just frowned and yelled impatiently, “What’s all this racket? Haven’t we got enough problems?” Then, his gaze swept over the torn paper on the floor without lingering for a second, and he turned right back around to stare out the window and smoke. The smoke blurred his back, and it blurred the last shred of hope I had for this family. Amidst my mother’s cursing and my brother’s smug looks, I picked up the pieces, one by one. Using clear tape, I carefully pieced them back together. 4 The paternity test results came out on Monday. My dad went to get them alone. After I finished cleaning the apartment, making sure it was spotless, I walked up to my mom. “Mom, school’s about to start. Can you lend me the tuition and meal money for the first semester of my freshman year?” “Didn’t I tell you? If you dare to go to that money-wasting high school, you have to earn every penny yourself.” Just as I was about to promise to pay her back double next semester, the front door opened. My dad had a file folder in his hand. “Here, let me see.” My mom walked over, looking triumphant. My dad dodged her hand, threw the envelope onto the coffee table, and patted me on the shoulder. “Good girl, go back to your brother’s room for a bit.” “…Okay.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I was their biological daughter. But a part of me felt a strange sense of disappointment. I cracked the door open slightly, a bad feeling creeping over me. My dad ignored my mom, walked straight over to my brother, and squatted down in front of him. “Don’t ever call me ‘Dad’ again.” WAAAAH— My brother burst into tears. My mom snatched up the report, her eyes scanning the paper before locking onto a specific section. “This is impossible…” her lips trembled. “It’s right there in black and white.” My dad stood up. “He’s your biological brother. Your half-brother.” My brother’s crying grew louder, and for the first time, my mom screamed at him. “Stop crying! Are you mourning the dead?!” The room fell terrifyingly silent. My mom stared blankly at my dad, her lips moving as if trying to digest those words. Suddenly, like she had been struck by lightning, she stared at my brother huddled in the corner of the sofa. Her gaze was no longer filled with its usual doting love. She walked toward him, step by step. She crouched down in front of him and rubbed her fingers hard against his face, like she was inspecting a strange object. “Half… brother?” she repeated. “Then… then where is my son? The son I carried for nine months?!” “Mommy, that hurts.” My brother was terrified and tried to pull away, but she grabbed his shoulders tightly. Her nails dug into his soft flesh, drawing blood. “Where is my son?!” Her voice pitched up, sharp and piercing. “I gave birth to a boy! Where did he go?!” “Stop screaming!” My dad smashed the ashtray on the floor. “Go to your sister’s house and ask your brother’s real mother!” It was my aunt’s turn to host my grandmother this month. When we knocked on the door and my aunt saw our entire family standing there, she was completely confused. Before she could say a word, my mom marched into the house and dragged my grandmother, who was prepping vegetables, out of the kitchen. My grandmother stumbled, the vegetables scattering across the floor. “Oh my, what’s going on? Are you trying to kill an old woman?” My mom pulled my brother forward and shoved him in front of my grandmother. My brother’s voice was hoarse from crying. He sat on the floor and hugged my mom’s leg. “Mommy, don’t leave me…” “Here, here, don’t cry. Come to Auntie.” My aunt’s health was poor, and she hadn’t been able to conceive for years, so she was especially fond of my brother. “If your mommy doesn’t want you, Auntie wants you.” My aunt was probably secretly planning to rely on my brother to care for her in her old age if she really couldn’t have kids. “Sis, whether you or I want this kid, we have no choice but to take him.” My mom scoffed coldly, clutching the crumpled report as she walked toward my grandmother. “What do you mean?” my aunt asked, confused. “Because he’s our mother’s son.” My aunt almost laughed out loud. She hugged my brother and wiped his tears. “Precious, look, your mommy is throwing another tantrum at Grandma. Let’s ignore her. I’ll take you to get KFC.” My mom ground her teeth, trying desperately to suppress her rage. “Mom, why aren’t you saying anything?” All the color drained from my grandmother’s face. 5 “Mom, say something!” My aunt looked back and forth between my grandmother and my mom, finally realizing something was very wrong. “When I gave birth to him in the countryside, you were the only one there.” My mom’s voice started to shake. “You said the baby inhaled amniotic fluid and needed to be resuscitated… You said he was saved, but his health was weak, and you told me to rest and recover while you took care of him…” My grandmother’s eyes darted around, her lips moving, but she couldn’t offer an explanation. My aunt, holding a struggling Leo, stepped aside and handed me her phone. “Quick, call your Uncle Mark. Before they start fighting.” “No wonder you suddenly insisted on going to stay with your friends for a few months! Dad is dead! Whose bastard is this?!” My mom grabbed my grandmother’s shoulders and shook her violently. “Where did you put my son?!” “I, I…” My grandmother closed her eyes, tears rolling down her wrinkled cheeks. “You what?!” My dad roared. “If anything has happened to my son, I’ll make you pay with your life!” My grandmother’s knees gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, curling into a ball. “I, I left him… left him in the countryside.” “Left him in the countryside?” my mom repeated softly. “You sent my son away? And swapped him for your… your bastard?!” My grandmother knelt there, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. My mom lunged at her. “Where is my son?! Tell me!” Seeing this, my aunt plastered an awkward smile on her face, trying to ease the tension: “Sis, calm down. Mom, this has to be a mistake. Look how old you are, this is absurd.” My aunt’s voice grew weaker and weaker, until she saw her savior finally arrive.

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I announced my pregnancy over Christmas Eve dinner, my voice thick with a joy I thought we all shared. My mother didn’t offer a toast. Instead, she set her wine glass down with a clinical click and looked at my husband. “Nathan, I should find you a young, healthy live-in nanny,” she said, her voice eerily calm. Nathan nearly choked on his brisket. I felt the color drain from my face. “Riley’s always been a bit lazy,” she continued, picking at her salad. “Now that she’s pregnant, she’ll be even more useless around the house. A young girl could handle the chores—and, you know, take care of your other needs. It’s only natural. Why should you have to suffer just because Riley’s all cooped up and bloated?” “Mom!” I slammed my fork onto the table, the silver clattering against the china. “What the hell kind of joke is that?” She looked at me, her eyes narrowing into cold, dark slits. “I’m not joking. What man stays faithful during a pregnancy? Your father was out running around the second I started showing with you. All men cheat, Riley. What makes you think yours is some kind of saint?” A wave of hot, silent fury crested in my chest. Just because her husband was a coward didn’t mean mine had to be. … Nathan looked like he wanted to crawl under the floorboards. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and reached across the table, lacing his fingers tightly through mine. “Lydia, please don’t test me,” he said, his voice trembling but firm. “I love Riley. I would never dream of doing anything to hurt her.” My mother’s smile didn’t just fade; it curdled. I saw the flash of pure, unadulterated envy in the depths of her eyes. “My poor, naive son-in-law,” she sighed, sounding almost pitying. “Riley’s already betrayed you. Why should you stay loyal to her?” I stared at her, my mouth falling open. “Mom, what are you talking about? I’ve never—” She reached into her vintage leather handbag with the practiced grace of a magician and pulled out a yellowed, crinkled piece of notebook paper. She slid it across the tablecloth toward Nathan, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “This is the love letter Riley wrote to a boy in high school. I intercepted it. I made a hundred copies and plastered them all over the school hallways myself.” She looked at Nathan with a sick kind of triumph. “She was eighteen, throwing herself at boys. I would never have done something so shameless. It proves that mentally, Riley was never ‘pure’ for you. She was used goods long before you met her.” She let out a sharp, jagged laugh. “I was a virgin on my wedding day and I still got treated like dirt. A girl like her? You shouldn’t be putting her on a pedestal. You should be looking for someone better.” I gripped the edge of the table so hard my fingernails bit into the wood. The room seemed to shrink, the air turning heavy and stale. I don’t have it, so why should you? That had been the mantra of my childhood. “I didn’t have a bra at your age, why should you? Just wrap a cloth around it,” she’d say. Or, “I never had fancy pads; I used rags. Figure it out yourself.” I grew up without new clothes, without basic hygiene products, without dignity. When I was eighteen, a boy in my chemistry class noticed I was struggling. He had seen the bloodstain on my skirt one afternoon and, red-faced and stuttering, had shoved a bag of tampons and pads into my locker the next day. He told me if I ever needed anything, to just ask. I was so moved I wrote him a thank-you note. A simple, heartfelt letter of gratitude. My mother found it and twisted it into a confession of lust. She told me I was a whore, that he only bought me those things because I’d slept with him. She dragged me to a clinic for a physical exam. When the doctor confirmed my hymen was intact, she didn’t look relieved. She looked devastated. But she recovered quickly. “Physically a virgin? Maybe,” she had spat. “But you’re a slut in your heart. You’re worthless, Riley. You were born for a man like your father—a piece of trash.” She had edited my thank-you note, adding graphic, desperate sentences, and then she’d destroyed my reputation at school. The boy never spoke to me again. My teachers looked at me with disgust. I was an outcast until the day I left that town for college. I worked hard. I built a career. I made more money than she ever dreamed of. She eventually apologized, claiming she was just “protecting my future” from teenage distractions. I thought she had changed. I thought she finally loved me. Nathan finished reading the “letter” and looked at my mother like she was a dangerous lunatic. “Lydia, I don’t care if this is real or if it happened twenty years ago,” he said, pushing the paper away. “I don’t live in the past. I live for our future. Riley makes me happy, and I am never going to betray her.” He squeezed my hand. The ice in my veins began to thaw under the warmth of his grip. My mother’s face twisted. Nathan’s loyalty was an insult to her. She couldn’t break him, so she turned her sights back on me. “How far along are you, Riley?” she asked, her voice dangerously sweet. “Nearly four months,” I replied, my guard up. She let out a long, satisfied breath. “Four months… hmmm. You’ll be getting the marks soon.” She leaned in, her eyes bright with a terrifying excitement. “The stretch marks. God, they’re coming for you, Riley. My stomach was ruined because of you. Deep, purple gashes that never went away. Your father couldn’t even look at me. He called me ‘mutilated.’ Just wait until you’re covered in them. Nathan won’t be so sweet then.” A cold shiver raced down my spine. This wasn’t a mother talking to a daughter. This was an enemy savoring a victory. Why did she want me to be ugly? Why was she praying for my husband to stray? She wouldn’t stop. She was animated now, her hands fluttering as she spoke. “The marks are just the beginning. Your hair will fall out in clumps. Your skin will blotch. You’ll leak when you sneeze, you’ll be loose, you’ll be repulsive. He won’t want to touch you. He’ll find someone who hasn’t been ‘ruined.’” Even Nathan, the most patient man I knew, snapped. “Lydia, stop. That’s enough.” “It won’t be like that,” Nathan continued, his voice hard. “I’ve already booked Riley into a luxury postnatal retreat for after the birth. We have a top-tier doula and specialists to help her recover. She’s going to be fine. And even if her body changes, I’ll only love her more for the sacrifice she made. I would never leave her.” My mother froze. Her eyes went blank, as if she were processing a language she didn’t understand. I expected her to scream. I expected her to wail about how she never got a postnatal retreat, so why should I? But she didn’t. She just sat there, robotically spooning potatoes onto Nathan’s plate, whispering, “Eat, you need to eat.” In her eyes, I saw envy, yes—but beneath it was a hollow, echoing void of pain. My heart throbbed with a misplaced pity. She had raised me alone. She was broken, and I told myself that her cruelty was just a symptom of her suffering. I decided to endure it. For the sake of “family.” A few weeks later, Nathan and I went to the postnatal center to finalize our paperwork. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Vance,” the receptionist said, looking confused. “But your mother called yesterday. She canceled the luxury suite and requested a full refund.” My heart plummeted. I drove straight to her house. When I walked in, I was blinded by the flash of a heavy gold cuff on her wrist. She didn’t even try to hide it. “I gave you my wedding jewelry because you complained you never had anything nice,” I said, my voice shaking as I grabbed her arm. “I would have bought you this, Mom. Why did you cancel my retreat? Why did you steal that money?” At the mention of the retreat, her eyes turned a feral, bloodshot red. She ripped her arm away and slapped me across the face so hard my ears rang. “How dare you!” she shrieked. “I never had a day of rest after I popped you out! I was back on my feet in forty-eight hours, bleeding and hurting! Why do you get to be pampered? Why are you better than me?” I touched my stinging cheek, staring at her. Because I didn’t have it, you can’t have it. As I stood there, stunned, she suddenly lunged at me. She grabbed the hem of my maternity shirt and yanked it up. “Five months,” she hissed, her eyes scanning my midsection with a desperate, hungry light. “You must have them by now. Show me! Show me how disgusting you look!” When she saw my stomach—smooth, pale, and unblemished—her face crumpled. She rubbed her eyes, leaning in close, refusing to believe it. My skin was clear. She began to cry, but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of rage. She hiked up her own shirt, pointing at the faded, silvery lines etched into her skin. “I turned into a monster for you! Your father left because of this! I have them—why don’t you have them?” She let out a guttural scream. Despite the horror, I felt a pang of sorrow for her. Her life had been nothing but bitterness and lack. I reached out, my arms trembling, wanting to hold her, to finally bridge the chasm between us. “Mom, everyone’s body is different,” I whispered. “I’ll pay for laser treatments for you, okay? We can fix it—” She opened her arms. For a split second, I thought she was going to embrace me. Instead, she buried her jagged, unkempt fingernails into the skin of my belly and raked them downward. She clawed at me with a sickening ferocity. “Liar! You’re spending money on creams and treatments behind my back! You’re trying to stay pretty to spite me!” I screamed, the pain so sharp I nearly blacked out. “I’m your mother! If I have them, you have them too!” I looked down through blurred eyes. Deep, bloody furrows ran across my stomach, mimicking the very scars she hated. She hadn’t stopped; she was digging in deeper, trying to ensure the marks would be permanent. “Nathan! Help me!” I shrieked. Nathan burst through the door. I saw his face go pale with horror before the world tilted and went black. I woke up in the hospital. Nathan was holding my hand, his eyes red from crying. “She’s insane, Riley. I’m looking into specialized facilities. We’re done with her. We have to be.” I nodded, too weak to argue. When we finally returned home, we found her sitting in our living room. I’d forgotten she had a spare key. She looked at my hospital gown and rolled her eyes. “I gave birth in a shack,” she scoffed. “You lose a little blood and you run to the ER? You’re so dramatic, Riley. Nathan, you shouldn’t indulge her. It’s a waste of money.” My heart, already shattered, felt like it was being ground into dust. The doorbell rang. My mother perked up and hurried to the door, returning with a young woman in tow. The girl was pretty, in a sharp, hungry sort of way, wearing a short, ruffled “maid” costume and sheer black stockings. Nathan and I exchanged a bewildered look. “Nathan,” my mother said, presenting the girl like a prize. “This is Jade. I’ve hired her as your ‘helper.’ She’s young, she’s hard-working… isn’t she much better to look at than a bloated housewife?” Jade looked down, biting her lip with a rehearsed shyness. My mother was doing it again. Because her husband cheated, mine had to, too. Nathan didn’t even hesitate. “Get out,” he said, his voice vibrating with rage. “You look ridiculous, and you’re clearly not here to clean. Lydia, take your ‘friend’ and leave our house before I call the police.” My mother gripped the doorframe. “Jade is very talented,” she said with a wicked glint in her eye. “Just give her one day. A trial run. You can’t judge a girl by her clothes. She needs the work, Nathan. If she doesn’t find a job, her family will sell her off to some old man in the countryside. Have some heart!” Jade looked up with watery eyes. “Please, Mr. Vance. Just one chance.” My head was pounding. I just wanted them gone. “Fine,” I muttered. “One day. If they aren’t gone by tomorrow morning, Nathan, call the cops.” My mother and Jade shared a look. It was a look of pure, predatory triumph. The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. I called Nathan’s name, but the house was silent. I walked down the hall to the guest room. The door was ajar. I pushed it open and the world stopped spinning. Nathan and Jade were lying in the bed, completely naked, their skin flushed, the sheets tangled around them in a way that left nothing to the imagination. The pain that ripped through me was physical. I let out a jagged cry and swept a glass vase off the nightstand. It shattered against the floor. My mother walked in, leaning against the doorframe. She looked at me with the most radiant smile I had ever seen on her face. “Your father did it. Why shouldn’t your husband?” she purred. “I married a loser, why should you get a man like Nathan? Jade is young and beautiful. They’re a much better match.” She grabbed my arm, her grip like iron. “Come on, don’t make a scene. Let the lovebirds be. We’re going to the clinic to get rid of that baby, and then I’ll introduce you to someone who actually suits you. Stan from across the street is looking for a wife.” Stan. A forty-year-old alcoholic who lived in his mother’s basement and had a history of domestic calls. This wasn’t just jealousy. This was hatred. Then I saw the empty bottle of heavy-duty sedatives and an industrial-strength aphrodisiac on the dresser. My stomach turned. I wrenched my arm away from her, severing the last thread of “family” I had left. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “I’d like to report a poisoning and a sexual assault. The address is…”

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During my heaviest year, I literally sat on the school bully until he cried. The harder he cried, the more riled up I got. I threw a leg over him, pinned him down, and gave him a few good twists. Something felt… uncomfortable against me. Ever since that day, the moment he saw me, he’d run faster than the speed of light. Three years later at a college reunion, my former classmates were joking around: “Chloe is so skinny now, she couldn’t squish Liam until he cried even if she tried!” Liam, sitting across the table, leaned forward slightly and crossed his legs. My entire body flushed hot, and my face turned as red as a tomato all the way down to my neck. 1 I had honestly forgotten what Liam even looked like. For all of high school, he ran the opposite direction the second he saw me. And he was fast. So fast that my memory of his face was completely blurry. On the very first day of high school, my desk neighbor warned me. Liam Vance was the grandson of the richest man in the city. He was a complete menace. If you saw him walking down the hall, you took a detour. My mom had also warned me that going to a city high school meant I needed to keep my head down and absolutely avoid offending anyone. I kept that firmly in mind. Then, one day, I saw him cornered on the edge of the athletic field. It was one against five. Five upperclassmen had him surrounded. He saw me from afar and yelled out. “Chloe!” I squinted, took a few steps closer to see clearly. Once I realized it was him, I turned around and walked the other way without looking back. Shortly after, I heard his screams of agony. Back in the classroom, I was worried something really bad had happened to him. So I told the whole class, and then I told our homeroom teacher. By the time the teacher led the whole class out to find him, his clothes were torn, one side of his face was swollen like a balloon, and he had a black eye like a panda. It was the first time I had ever seen him up close. The swooning girls in my class always said Liam was tall, handsome, and had striking, almost mixed-race features. But right now? He looked like the guy who collected scrap metal back in my hometown. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. And my eyes met his. He stood up, hissed in pain, pointed a finger at me and said, “You just wait, you’re dead.” The homeroom teacher immediately kicked him right in the butt, making him yelp in pain. The very next evening, right after I walked out of the cafeteria, he and his little posse blocked my path. I hid the fried chicken drumstick I was holding behind my back and swallowed hard. I had just taken my first bite. I hadn’t even swallowed yet. If the chicken got cold, it wouldn’t taste good anymore. Because of that, I completely forgot my desk neighbor’s and my mom’s warnings. I sounded incredibly irritable. “Are you annoying or what? Just because I didn’t help you? If I had helped you fight and won, wouldn’t you have looked even more pathetic?” The lackeys behind him looked down, clearly embarrassed that I had hit the nail on the head. He stiffened his neck and yelled at me: “Fatty Chloe! You’re as fat as a pig and you’re still eating chicken!” That’s it? So childish. I pushed past him to walk away, but he grabbed my arm. I jerked my arm away, and accidentally dropped my chicken drumstick on the ground. It’s fine, I thought. I can pick it up, wash it off, peel the breading off, and still eat it. But then he stepped forward and stomped on my chicken. He even twisted his ankle back and forth to grind it in. My gaze slowly traveled upward until it locked onto his face. Anger erupted in me like a volcano. I let out a roar and tackled him to the ground. He already had one arm in a cast from yesterday, and his other arm was no match for my substantial weight. I planted my butt squarely on top of him. “Give me back my chicken! You owe me my chicken! I only get to eat chicken once a year! Waaah…” Liam’s face turned beet red, and two streams of tears slid from the corners of his eyes. A crowd started forming. Someone yelled, “Go get a teacher!” Hearing that, his lackeys scattered and ran for their lives. The harder Liam cried, the more worked up I got. I threw a leg over him, pinning him down like I was riding a horse, and gave him a few good twists. Just like what he did to my chicken drumstick. For some reason, though… something felt uncomfortable against me. Eventually, some classmates pulled me off him. I mourned that chicken drumstick for a whole month. I was so grief-stricken and angry that I studied until I ranked number one in our grade on the monthly exams. Only then did I emerge from my depression. 2 From that day on, whenever Liam saw me, he’d bolt without a trace. Liam’s admission to our school wasn’t through normal channels. His mom was on the school board. I heard his middle school test scores were so low he wouldn’t have even qualified for the worst high school in the city. Students like me, who had been on the low-income financial aid list since childhood, hated people like him the most. Especially since he destroyed my chicken drumstick. But there was nothing I could do to him. In fact, I was terrified of him. I was afraid he would complain to his mom and get my financial aid revoked. Or just make up an excuse to get me expelled. For an entire semester, I waited for my homeroom teacher to tell me to pack my bags. Every night I had nightmares about being chased by a vicious dog. The dead dog would run right up to my face, bare its fangs, give an evil laugh, and its face would morph into Liam’s. It wasn’t until after the final exams that the homeroom teacher announced he had some news. Inside the stuffy, enclosed classroom, a cold sweat ran down my spine. I was already planning how to break the news to my mom. At worst, I’d just go work in the mines with her. The teacher calling my name pulled me back to reality. “Chloe, the school has established a new scholarship. Since you ranked first in your grade, you’ve been awarded eight thousand dollars.” That wasn’t just a scholarship; that was life-saving money. Not only did I have money for living expenses, but my mom wouldn’t have to risk getting black lung disease working in the mines just to make a few hundred extra dollars a month. The teacher also praised Liam. His grades had shot up from dead last to the middle of the pack. My desk neighbor whispered that Liam had a crush on a girl, the most popular girl in our grade, Mia. Mia consistently ranked in the top ten, and she had publicly stated she would never date a guy with worse grades than hers. Liam’s desk was piled high with New Year’s cards from girls. He shoved all of them into his desk drawer. The only one he carefully placed into his backpack was the one from Mia. After that, he completely settled down and stopped causing trouble. Occasionally, when we crossed paths, I didn’t even have to hide from him, and he never called me “Fatty Chloe” again. Actually, wait. He just completely refused to even look at me. By the time we graduated high school, he had become the “cold and aloof heartthrob” all the underclassmen obsessed over. He rejected countless girls, supposedly just waiting for Mia to say yes. After graduation, my only interaction with him was when we picked up our diplomas. The homeroom teacher told me Liam’s mother had asked him to pass on a message. “She says thank you to the pretty, chubby girl in your class. Her sitting on Liam finally knocked some sense into him.” I scratched my head and smiled. His mom was pretty funny. When I turned around, Liam happened to be standing right outside the office door. Our eyes met; he immediately looked away, and I looked down at the floor. We walked past each other, and I never saw him again. 3 I honestly hadn’t planned on attending this college reunion. Heading into my senior year of college, I was juggling part-time jobs and frantically applying for internships. I was completely overwhelmed. My old high school desk neighbor, Sarah, urged me: “You should come! It’s good networking for the future.” “Plus, Liam is the one organizing it this time.” “Remember him? The guy you sat on until he cried?” I rubbed my forehead and cut her off: “Can we please not bring that up? I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go.” Standing in a quiet corner, holding my phone, my face was burning red. It was only much later that I finally understood why it felt so… uncomfortable that day. On the day of the reunion, to show how little I cared, I didn’t wear any makeup. I specifically wore a faded, washed-out tracksuit and carried a canvas tote bag from a cheap grocery store. Sure enough, when I arrived, I was the most shabbily dressed person there. In stark contrast, Liam, who was pushing 6’2″, stood out effortlessly in the crowd. He had broad shoulders and a strong back, and the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt were casually undone. It made me think of that chicken drumstick from years ago, and I involuntarily swallowed hard. As soon as I walked in, Sarah dragged me right over to Liam. “Boss Vance, remember her? Chloe!” A wave of good-natured laughter rippled through the group around us. “Chloe is so skinny now, she couldn’t squish Liam until he cried even if she tried!” Hearing that, Liam’s expression became slightly unnatural. He leaned forward slightly and crossed his legs. My entire body flushed hot, and my face turned as red as a tomato all the way down to my neck. I fanned my face frantically with my hands. “It’s so hot in here! I’m gonna go step outside for some air.” “If you’re hot, just take your jacket off!” Sarah, with lightning speed, reached over and yanked the zipper of my track jacket down. I had bought this jacket back when I hadn’t lost the weight yet, so it hung on me like a massive potato sack. With her pull, the jacket easily slid off my shoulders. Revealing my upper body, dressed only in a thin camisole, directly facing Liam. He lowered his gaze, taking in my entire chest area without missing a detail. I panicked and frantically pulled the jacket back up over my shoulders. Sarah wouldn’t shut up. “Wow, the parts that weren’t supposed to shrink didn’t shrink at all!” “If you sat on someone now, you’d still make them cry, just for a different reason!” While nervously adjusting my collar, I snuck a peek at Liam. The tips of his ears were bright red. 4 It wasn’t until Liam spoke up that we realized he came with an agenda. “I started a tech company back in our hometown, and we’re currently hiring.” “The pay and benefits are excellent, and we provide housing and meals. If anyone is interested, please send me your resume.” Sarah nudged me in the ribs. She handed me her phone, showing the profile of Liam’s company. “Doesn’t this perfectly align with your major?” I felt conflicted. I had hoped to never cross paths with Liam again in my entire life. I had never told anyone, but I had actually seen him at a gay bar where I was working part-time. It wasn’t that I was judging him, it just made me feel weird whenever I thought about it. But I really wanted to go back to my hometown. My mom, worried about me working so much while in school, had secretly gone back to working in the mines and ended up getting a lung disease. I wanted to go back so I could take care of her and keep an eye on her. Our hometown was a traditional industrial city; tech startups like his could be counted on one hand. And the existing ones were usually just neglected branch offices with no real career prospects. The salary listed on Liam’s job posting made my heart race. That night, I tossed and turned, and the dreams started again. In my dream, a giant white dog came running toward me, wagging its tail, and tackled me to the ground. It licked me all over until I was giggling uncontrollably. Then the big dog lifted its head, and its face morphed into Liam’s. I woke up covered in a cold sweat. He’s haunting me. Suddenly, my phone rang with an unknown number. “Ms. Davis, we are calling from Vance Tech. We would like to invite you for an interview next week.” It was Liam’s company. But I hadn’t even submitted a resume. Then, my mom’s attending physician texted me, saying they were scheduling her surgery for next week. I simply said “Okay” into the phone. Since I was heading back to my hometown anyway, I might as well check it out. On the day of the interview, Liam wasn’t there. I had a great conversation with the Chief Technology Officer. I didn’t even have to do an internship period; I was hired full-time immediately. And there was no pay cut during the probationary period. I always knew I was a good student, but I didn’t realize I was that good. It would be rude to refuse such an offer. However, because the time for my mom’s surgery was suddenly moved up, I had to delay my start date by a day. First thing in the morning on my first day, I ran into Liam in the elevator. I respectfully greeted him: “Good morning, Boss.” His Adam’s apple bobbed a few times, but he didn’t say a word. The elevator chimed. Just as the doors opened a crack, I lifted my foot to step out. Through the gap, I saw a pair of long, gorgeous legs waiting outside. The elevator doors opened fully. It was Mia. She completely ignored me and threw herself directly into Liam’s arms. “Liam! You said at the meeting yesterday you weren’t coming into the office today!” “Something came up.” I stepped out of the elevator and turned around. Liam had his hands up in surrender, letting Mia hang off his neck, smiling at her with pure indulgence. 5 The moment I sat down at my desk, my manager called me into his office. “Mr. Vance’s executive assistant position hasn’t been filled yet. You have a great academic background, so I need you to fill in for a while.” “Is that really appropriate—?” “What I mean is, won’t Mia mind?” “Mia—? Oh, you mean the boss’s wife. Why would she mind?” “Mr. Vance is giving you an incredible compensation package, show a little tact.” The boss’s wife. Makes sense. But my chest felt inexplicably tight. My butt hadn’t even warmed my new desk chair yet. I grumbled under my breath as I packed up my things and headed upstairs. Right outside Liam’s office was the executive assistant’s desk. Since I was here, I figured I should go say hi to the boss first. I pushed the door open. He was facing the door and I startled him. He frowned and asked me why I didn’t knock. Behind him, facing away from me, Mia was leaning over, her arms propped up on his desk. That posture. My face instantly burned bright red. “Sorry to interrupt.” I backed up a few steps and closed the door for them. A few seconds later, Mia walked out, giving me a playful, assessing look. She took a few steps forward, rubbed her lower back, and let out a soft sigh. From inside the office, Liam yelled “Come in,” making me jump. He was leaning back in his office chair, rubbing his temples with one hand. “I yelled a little too loud just now. Don’t take it personally.” My mom always said: if someone respects you an inch, you respect them a mile. I cleared my throat. “Not at all, Boss, you’re too polite. You can yell at me if you want, you can even hit me if you want.” He looked up, suppressing a smile at the corner of his mouth. “I can hit you?” “Sure.” His lips parted, a half-smile playing on his face. “Girls should learn how to protect themselves.” “I’m very good at protecting myself! You should worry about protecting yourself. Did you forget what happened when we fought, I—” Why do I have a mouth?! He closed his eyes and waved his hand. “Get out.” Back at my desk, I buried my head in organizing documents. Liam suddenly opened his door and threw a uniform at me. “Change into this. You’re coming on a business trip with me.” Change, sure. I’ll change right now. A white button-down shirt, a fitted blazer, a pencil skirt, and black tights. My body proportions—my chest and waist measurements—make buying clothes incredibly difficult. But this uniform fit like it was custom-tailored for me. I looked at myself in the mirror and gave a very serious, professional salute. Walking out of the restroom, I practically crashed into Liam. He must be sick or something. His ears were always bleeding red. 6 It was my first time flying, and it was in First Class. I asked Liam: “Next time, could you book me in Economy and just pay me the difference in cash?” He turned away and completely ignored me. The plane hit sudden turbulence, and I let out a yelp. Before the sound even faded, I was already pulled into his chest. His Adam’s apple bobbed right next to my ear, and his voice drifted down from above me. “Coward.” I looked up and met his eyes. His gaze was hazy. He slowly lowered his head, and it looked like he was about to kiss me. I swallowed hard and struggled to say: “I have boundaries.” He let go of me, sat back in his seat, and turned his face away. My heart was pounding, my palms were sweaty. He didn’t look at me again until we got off the plane. Well, what could I do? He was the boss, and I was terrified of getting fired. I helped him with his luggage, I told him jokes. I even kept dropping hints. “Mia is so beautiful, it’s hard to find anyone prettier than her, right?” “Whoever gets to marry Mia is incredibly lucky. Anyone who doesn’t cherish her deserves to be impotent for life.” His expression finally cracked. He gave me a very strange look. “You really like her?” “Of course I do!” “Is that why you worked at that kind of place?” “What kind of place?” “Mr. Vance!” A voice called out, interrupting our conversation. A guy holding a pick-up sign ran over. He had sharp eyebrows and bright eyes, easily as handsome as Liam. “My name is Ryan. I graduated from City High too.” “Technically, that makes you two my underclassmen.” I sweetly called out, “Nice to meet you, Ryan!” Liam glared at me. I pouted. You’re the vendor here, why are you acting so arrogant? How are you going to close this deal? These rich trust fund kids really don’t understand how the real world works. I continued turning on the charm for Ryan. “Ryan, your company is notoriously hard to get into, you must be amazing at what you do!” “We are so honored to have this opportunity to visit. Next time you come to our city, I’ll bring you some local specialties!” Liam’s face grew darker and darker. Does he even want to do business or what?

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My fiancé got amnesia. He forgot everything—except, selectively, me. He was faking it. I didn’t expose him. Our marriage certificate turned into a divorce decree. Yet, three days later, the wedding I had meticulously planned for a month went on exactly as scheduled. He was still the groom, but the bride wasn’t me anymore. It was his on-again, off-again ex-girlfriend. When we met again, he grabbed my wrist, completely losing his mind: “Chloe, where did you go?! Why didn’t you come looking for me?!” I put on a perfectly blank expression, looking at him defensively: “Excuse me, sir, who are you? Do I know you?” 1 “Chloe, get over here. We’re getting a divorce.” Liam’s words were blunt and brutal. I stayed silent. He didn’t need my answer anyway. He hung up the phone. Liam was my fiancé. He had amnesia. And the very first thing he did after “losing his memory” was summon me to sign divorce papers. We had just gotten our marriage license at City Hall that morning; by the afternoon, we were annulling it. When I walked into the county clerk’s office, I found that Liam wasn’t alone. The woman clinging intimately to his arm was very familiar to me. It was his ex-girlfriend, Mia. She and Liam had a toxic, on-again, off-again relationship for five years. Until I showed up. Now, Liam had “forgotten” me. And she was right back by his side. Seeing me, the smile on Mia’s face vanished. She stammered, “Chloe, please don’t misunderstand… Liam and I are just…” As she spoke, she didn’t loosen her grip; she actually held onto him tighter. Liam proactively covered her hand with his own, claiming his territory: “I asked Mia to come with me. You don’t have to misunderstand anything. She is my girlfriend.” My heart violently seized. Meeting Mia’s triumphant gaze, I numbly nodded my head. There weren’t many people processing divorces today. When we got to the counter, the clerk shot me a bewildered look. She recognized me. Liam and I had just been here this morning to get our marriage certificate. She had even congratulated us: “Wishing you a lifetime of happiness.” And now, we were back in the afternoon. To get a divorce. But the person holding Liam’s arm wasn’t me. It was Mia. I stood in front of them, a completely isolated figure. The clerk’s lips moved silently as she cast a highly suspicious look at the three of us. After a long pause, she said, “This is highly unusual.” Liam frowned. He was getting impatient. He made a phone call. Very quickly, thanks to his connections, the expedited annulment paperwork was pushed through. I clutched the stamped document in my hand, a bitter smile curling on my lips. Mia pretended to bring it up casually: “Since you’re already divorced, you’re not going to keep squatting at Liam’s house, right?” She covered her mouth, feigning sympathy: “Oh, I’m sorry, I know you don’t have anywhere else to go. You were married, after all… if you want to stay for a few days, Liam wouldn’t mind…” Liam cut her off, his voice devoid of any emotion: “We’re divorced. Move out today.” It was so cold, so matter-of-fact. As if he wasn’t the one faking his amnesia. My throat instantly tightened. The glaringly white annulment papers burned my eyes. He faked amnesia just for this, didn’t he? Why bother? I was never the type to cling desperately to a dead relationship. If he wanted a divorce, why would I ever hold onto a man who didn’t love me? It was just laughable that my five years of devotion couldn’t even earn me an honest breakup. A marriage, ending in such an absurd, farcical tragedy. I took a deep breath. “Fine.” 2 The car Liam was driving was the one we had picked out together to be our wedding car. When we bought it, Liam had told me: “On our wedding day, I’m going to drive this exact car to bring my Chloe home.” I had never even sat in it yet. But right now, sitting in the passenger seat, was Mia. Liam leaned over to help her buckle her seatbelt. They were incredibly close. As Liam pulled back, Mia sweetly planted a kiss on his cheek. Instinctively, Liam looked up and locked eyes with me. Following Liam’s gaze, Mia saw me and pouted, “Sorry, this is the car Liam bought for me. It belongs to me exclusively. I don’t want any other woman sitting in it.” Liam looked at her with pure indulgence. “Whatever you say.” With that, Liam drove off with Mia, leaving me in the dust. The acrid smell of exhaust blew directly into my face. My nose stung, and my eyes gradually grew red. When I finally caught an Uber to the house, the massive front gates of the estate were locked tight. My luggage was thrown haphazardly outside the gates, scattered across the driveway. I knocked on the gate for a long time before the housekeeper, Maria, finally came out. She read the confusion in my eyes and hesitated before speaking: “Miss Mia ordered me to throw all of this out.” Mia’s voice floated over: “Oh? Are these your things? I’m so sorry, I thought it was just someone’s abandoned trash, so I had them throw it all out. I didn’t do it on purpose, you’re not mad, are you?” Mia walked out, arms crossed over her chest, a faint, smug satisfaction in her eyes. I forced a smile. “Miss Mia, your upbringing is truly concerning.” A harsh reprimand came from inside the house: “Chloe, don’t push your luck! Mia already apologized to you, what more do you want?” I looked over. Liam walked up to Mia’s side, his face cold as ice as he stared at me. His gaze swept over my scattered belongings on the ground, and he sneered: “What’s the difference between this junk and actual trash? Only you would value garbage like this.” My throat choked up. My heart suddenly seized so tightly I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. He impatiently urged me: “Stop wasting time. Pack up your trash and get out. I don’t want to see you here again.” The feeling was mutual. There was absolutely no point in arguing or tangling with him anymore. I swallowed the bitterness lodged in my throat and silently began picking up my things. Even though I hadn’t lived here long, I had a lot of stuff. It packed two massive suitcases to the brim. This mansion was supposed to be our marital home. The meticulous interior design, the elegant, comfortable furniture… Every single detail, I had personally designed and arranged. Back then, I thought this was the home where Liam and I would spend the rest of our lives. But now, the house looked exactly the same, yet the person living in it wasn’t me anymore. The scenery remained, but the people had changed. I dragged my two heavy suitcases and started walking away. Mia took a deep, exaggerated breath. “Now that the trash is gone, the air smells so much fresher.” Hearing this, Liam ordered the housekeeper: “Maria, have a cleaning crew sanitize the house from top to bottom. If you find any more of her things, throw them straight into the dumpster.” I stopped in my tracks. I sniffled hard, forcing back the tears pooling in my eyes. I turned my head and looked directly at Mia. “The trash I didn’t want anymore… is all yours.” 3 I found a random, cheap apartment and moved in. Once the adrenaline wore off, I was physically and mentally exhausted. I lay in bed, sleeping in a pitch-black room for two straight days. On the third day, I got a call from my business partner. I was a high-end wedding planner. My friend and I had started our own boutique agency. I had planned weddings for countless beautiful couples. And I had spent an entire month meticulously planning my own. Now, that wedding hadn’t even happened, yet it was already a ghost of my past. When I heard the familiar names through the phone, my heart dropped. My voice trembled as I asked: “Who are the bride and groom?” The names Liam Vance and Mia Sterling drilled into my ears. My head was buzzing. Instinctively, I refused the job. My partner’s fearful voice came through the receiver: “Chloe, you know how powerful the Vance family is…” With a single word, Liam could ensure I would never find work in this city again. I hung up the phone, collapsing back onto the bed. Liam was coming for me. He specifically requested me to plan his wedding. I couldn’t hide. I hurriedly got ready and rushed to the wedding venue. The venue was a massive, luxury estate in the wine country. The estate featured a breathtaking, endless sea of lavender. When the breeze blew, the lavender swayed like a dream. I had originally booked this venue because lavender was my absolute favorite flower. I had hoped that on the most important day of my life, I could stand in a sea of lavender, holding hands with the man I loved, stepping into our future. But seeing this field of flowers now, a thick, suffocating bitterness wrapped around my heart. I forced the bitterness down and maintained a strictly professional demeanor as I discussed the wedding details with Mia. She was dissatisfied with everything, constantly pointing fingers, making me revise and change every little detail. Liam sat patiently by her side. His arm was wrapped around her waist, his face entirely devoid of impatience. Just days ago, he had held me exactly like this, listening tirelessly as I planned our wedding. After torturing me for four hours, Mia finally said: “Forget it, let’s just stick to the original plan. After all, Miss Chloe is the most familiar with it. I feel safe leaving it in your hands.” I stared at the dense notes on my iPad, my fingers gripping the edges tightly. The “original plan” she was talking about was the exact blueprint I had designed for my own wedding. Of course I was familiar with it. Seeing my tightly pursed lips, Mia curled her mouth into a delighted smirk. She said casually: “The wedding is tomorrow afternoon. I know it’s a bit rushed, but I believe Miss Chloe can pull it off perfectly, right?” I froze for a second. My wedding with Liam was originally scheduled for tomorrow afternoon as well. I looked up, meeting Mia’s smug, victorious gaze. The wedding I had spent a month pouring my heart into was now hers. It was sickening. After a long silence, I forced a single word out of my throat: “Yes.” Mia leaned against Liam, a dagger hidden in her smile: “Liam, Miss Chloe has been such a huge help. We definitely have to give her a massive tip on our wedding day.” Liam said coldly: “This is what she’s supposed to do. Otherwise, why would I pay her?” Hearing this, Mia’s smile grew even wider. I pressed my lips together and closed my eyes. My heart was so exhausted. So tired that I didn’t even have the energy to argue. After a moment of silence, I said quietly: “You are the clients. The client is always right.” 4 Once they left, I let out a long sigh of relief. I truly did not want to tangle with them anymore. But once some plays begin, I can’t just call “cut” whenever I want. I rubbed my temples. I couldn’t relax yet. They got to leave easily, dumping a massive mess in my lap. Thankfully, because I had been prepping this wedding for a month, the logistics were 80% complete. I just needed to tie up the loose ends. Despite that, I still ended up pulling an all-nighter. The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed. I had only slept for two hours. But the wedding was today, and I still had a million fires to put out. During the setup, I was so exhausted I could barely stand straight. I closed my eyes, my head spinning, my footsteps stumbling. Suddenly, someone caught my arm to steady me. I opened my eyes. It was Liam. Instinctively, I shoved him away. A flash of shock crossed his face, quickly replaced by a cold glare: “Why are you standing around daydreaming? The wedding is pure chaos right now, shouldn’t you be out there managing it?” I forced a weak smile. The money is hard to earn, and the shit is hard to swallow. I didn’t have the energy to fight him. I turned around to walk away, but someone called my name. Mia, wearing a stunning, extravagant purple bridal gown that cinched her tiny waist, walked gracefully toward us. My eyes unavoidably landed on her dress. This exact dress was the one Liam had originally chosen for me. And now, it was on Mia’s body. My fingernails dug into my palms, the sharp pain tugging at the snapping string of my sanity. Mia smugly twirled in front of me. She wore a fake, sickeningly sweet smile: “Miss Chloe, do you think this dress looks good? Does it fit the vibe of the venue today?” I couldn’t speak. I just nodded randomly. Her smile widened, her eyes locking onto me darkly: “I wonder if we could ask Miss Chloe to be our wedding MC today?” The string in my mind finally snapped. I clenched my jaw, staying silent. Liam said softly: “Mia, stop playing around. It’s not appropriate.” Mia grabbed his arm and whined: “Why isn’t it appropriate? I believe in Miss Chloe’s abilities! If she’s been in this industry for so long and can’t even MC a wedding, why does she even own a wedding planning company?” Liam, completely whipped by her whining, coaxed her gently: “Alright, whatever you want.” His cold gaze shifted to me, his tone rigid: “Miss Chloe, you will be the MC for our wedding today.” A bitter smile crept onto my lips: “And if I refuse?” Liam furrowed his brow, threatening me directly: “Then I can only assume you lack the professional capability. And I think a company like yours has no business surviving in this city.” I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth, forcing the lump in my throat back down. How humiliating. Couldn’t we just part ways peacefully? I was never going to stalk him or beg for him back. Even without this humiliation today, I would have avoided them like the plague forever. Why did he have to degrade me like this? I nodded numbly. With heavy, exhausted steps, I walked past them. But as I brushed past Mia, I paused. I asked in a low voice: “Miss Mia, do you really just love wearing other people’s hand-me-downs?” 5 The words slipped out before I could stop them. I didn’t stick around to see the dark, furious look on Mia’s face; I just kept walking quickly. The wedding officially began at 6:00 PM. The sky was ablaze with a breathtaking, fiery sunset. The golden hour light spilled over the sea of lavender, looking like a literal dream. Mia, in her gorgeous purple gown, walked slowly through the lavender fields. Amidst thunderous applause, she placed her hand into Liam’s. My eyes suddenly welled with tears. This wedding was the exact carbon copy of the one I had spent a month planning. I had envisioned this exact moment in my head countless times. But the bride wasn’t me. My love story had mutated into something unrecognizable. I stood there like a marionette, numbly reciting the MC script I had prepared. The entire venue was filled with laughter and joy, while my heart was as dead and still as a stagnant pool of water. The wedding celebrations lasted late into the night. I stumbled back to my crappy apartment. The moment I hit the mattress, I passed out into a heavy, feverish sleep. I woke up to my phone ringing incessantly. My face was flushed, and my forehead was burning up. I had a severe fever. The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I forced myself up and fumbled for it. My vision was blurry; I couldn’t read the caller ID. But the familiar voice came through the speaker. I knew it was Liam. He was speaking in a deeply annoyed tone: “Mia, what is wrong with you? Can you put a little effort in? Can’t you handle the basic logistics after the wedding? You’ve been missing all morning…” I casually hung up the phone. I didn’t have time for his unhinged rambling. I was the boss of my company; I didn’t need to micromanage every single minor post-event detail. My body felt like it was falling apart. I managed to find some meds and dry-swallowed them. The moment I lay back down, I passed out again. My dreams were an absolute mess. Memories of Liam and me cut through my nightmares like shards of glass. They crashed down on me, shattering into pieces, leaving me bruised and bleeding. I was sick for an entire week. At its worst, I had to go to the hospital and get an IV drip for three days. By the time I recovered, the potted lavender I kept on my windowsill had withered and died. The language of lavender means “waiting for love.” But my love had withered. Even the memories were nothing but humiliation and degradation now. I blocked Liam’s number. Since he wanted to fake amnesia, I wanted him to commit to the bit completely. It would be best if we never crossed paths again for the rest of our lives. I didn’t want to stay in this city. I started traveling for work constantly. When I returned from my final business trip, a month had already passed. As I walked out of my office building, a black Mercedes was parked by the curb. A man was leaning against the door, smoking a cigarette. The smoke obscured his face. His gaze suddenly locked onto me. He crushed the cigarette out and walked quickly toward me. It was Liam. Before I could dodge him, he grabbed my wrist. He looked completely unhinged as he interrogated me: “Chloe, where the hell did you go?! Why didn’t you come looking for me?!” I pressed my lips tightly together. I looked up, my face completely blank. I looked at him defensively and asked: “Excuse me, sir, who are you? Do I know you?” 6 The shock on Liam’s face was impossible to hide. His grip on my wrist tightened anxiously. “Chloe, what nonsense are you spouting? Do you really not know who I am?!” A sharp pain shot through my wrist. I frowned, my eyes turning cold. “Sir, please let go. This is harassment. If you don’t let go, I’m calling the police.” Liam didn’t let go. His eyes searched my face. Seeing the genuine lack of recognition in my eyes, sheer panic and terror washed over his features. His voice shook: “Chloe, it’s me, Liam. I’m your… husband.” I didn’t believe him. In my struggle to break free, I bit his hand hard. He flinched in pain but still wouldn’t let go. I screamed at the top of my lungs: “HELP!” He tried to cover my mouth, but it was too late. Passersby immediately crowded around us. He frantically tried to explain: “I’m her husband! We’re just having a fight!” I pulled his hand away and yelled in panic: “He’s lying! I don’t know him!” Seeing my distress, the crowd aggressively pinned Liam down. A good Samaritan called the cops. The police car took both of us to the precinct. Liam was my husband. Keyword: was. Now, he was just my ex-husband. The date on our marriage certificate and the date on our divorce decree were exactly the same. Our married life didn’t even last 24 hours. After looking into the records and realizing the truth, the officers looked at Liam with pure disgust. After a severe, humiliating lecture from the cops, Liam was finally released. Standing outside the precinct, Liam’s eyes were glued to me. He asked hoarsely: “Chloe, do you really not remember me?” I took a few steps back in disgust, speaking coldly: “I got severely sick a month ago and lost a lot of my memories. Should I remember you? If I forgot you, it just means you weren’t important.” Hearing this, Liam looked incredibly hurt. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something. I cut him off: “I heard you’re my ex-husband. Since you managed to become my ex-husband, I assume there’s absolutely no need for us to stay in contact.” Liam panicked instantly: “Chloe, please, let me explain…” “Liam!” Mia’s voice cut through the air. I looked over. Mia was practically sprinting toward us, glaring at me with absolute hostility. She aggressively linked her arm through Liam’s, staking her claim, and demanded: “Why are you here?!” I let out a scoff: “Are you his wife? You should probably be interrogating your husband instead of harassing an innocent bystander!” Mia looked suspicious, but forced a confident front: “Liam would never do anything wrong.” But, highly out of character, Liam violently shoved Mia’s arm away. From start to finish, he didn’t even look at her. He took a step toward me, but stopped, seemingly stung by my defensive glare. He explained, his voice thick with emotion: “Chloe, she’s not my wife. I never married her. You are my only wife.” Mia’s face instantly turned black. She anxiously grabbed for Liam’s hand, her voice frantic: “Liam, let’s go home, okay?” Liam shoved her away out of pure reflex. Mia fell hard onto the concrete, letting out a cry of pain. She started crying pitifully: “Liam, it hurts.” But this still didn’t grab Liam’s attention. His eyes were dead-set on me. His voice sounded almost pathetic: “Chloe, please, let me explain. I had amnesia before, and I was tricked into divorcing you. But now I remember everything…” I interrupted him impatiently: “I don’t care. Please stop harassing me.”

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