Category: English

1 It was the company’s team-building day, and I brought my daughter along. My colleagues found her adorable, constantly showering her with snacks. Only our young boss, Ethan, eyed her with a knowing look. “Autumn, your daughter looks so much like a friend of mine. So much so, I’d almost suspect she’s his illegitimate child.” Ethan snapped a picture of Ella, then asked for my permission. “You don’t mind if I send this to my friend, do you? Just to spook him a little.” I shook my head, simply dismissing it as a coincidence. My colleagues, now intrigued, gathered around me, gossiping non-stop. “Autumn, what does the baby’s father do?” “We… separated a long time ago.” “Ella is so beautiful, besides your gorgeous genes, her dad must be responsible too. Was your ex-husband really handsome?” “Yes, quite handsome.” Even though he wasn’t even an ex-husband. “Why did you two break up? Did he cheat?” “No.” “Domestic violence?” “No, he was very gentle.” “Then why?” My colleagues were genuinely regretful. I offered a bitter smile, saying nothing more. My thoughts drifted over a thousand miles away, to the city of Portside. I was sold to Mr. Tanner, Liam Tanner, by my adoptive father to pay off a debt. He initially didn’t want me, but fearing my adoptive father might beat me to death, he took pity. Not only did he let me live rent-free in one of his properties, but he also funded my high school and university education. Yet, during that time, he never saw me again. It wasn’t until graduation that my adoptive father, burdened by gambling debts, schemed with me once more. He demanded I go to Liam for money. Little did he know, I couldn’t even find Liam. The only person I normally contacted was his assistant, Ryan Lee. And I certainly didn’t want to find him. My adoptive father beat me until I was hospitalized, making me miss my graduation ceremony. I didn’t tell Ryan, but Liam found out anyway. In the crowded hospital room, reeking of antiseptic, I saw Liam for the second time. He was still as composed as a mountain, refined as jade when he cast his gaze down, yet radiating an undeniable presence. My left cheek was bruised and swollen from my adoptive father’s beating, and every movement of my mouth was painful. I hid my left cheek, not daring to meet Liam’s eyes. “Did you learn self-defense for nothing?” His tone was laced with helplessness. “No, I didn’t learn for nothing,” I countered. I had deliberately not fought back. That way, I’d have evidence to sue the man and sever our father-daughter relationship. “Why didn’t you contact Ryan?” I lowered my head, my voice barely a whisper. “No reason.” Liam sighed. He turned and instructed Ryan to move me to a spacious private room and hire a caregiver. As he was about to leave, I tugged at his sleeve. He looked at me, his eyes devoid of emotion. “Mr. Tanner, I’ll pay you back.” “Have you decided what you’ll do?” “Yes, I’ve already interviewed for the Executive Assistant position with Mr. Vance at Horizon Corp. I start next week.” With the injury report, I smoothly severed ties with my adoptive father, finally gaining my freedom. An Executive Assistant’s salary was good, but to repay Liam as soon as possible, I remained frugal. After moving out of Liam’s property, I chose to share an apartment. My boss, Marcus Vance, was not an easy person to work for. Besides assisting him professionally, I also had to manage his private life. One day it was preparing an anniversary surprise for a university student, the next it was ordering flowers and gifts for a model… such tasks were commonplace. At an auction, Ryan and I both bid for a pair of earrings, the posthumous work of the famous jewelry designer Anna. After a few rounds, I could see his determination, so I gave up. As I was leaving, Ryan called out to me. He placed the brocade box containing the yellow diamond earrings in my hand. I stood frozen. “Boss’s orders.” After successfully acquiring the earrings, he reported the news to Liam. He also casually mentioned, “Autumn Valley was also at the auction, presumably for these earrings.” There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line, then a direct command: “Give them to her.” I tried to return the brocade box to Ryan, but he wouldn’t take it. “Mr. Vance sent you, didn’t he? If you don’t bring the item back, how will you report to him?” The earrings were what Marcus’s new girlfriend had her eye on. At worst, he’d yell at me when I got back. I was used to it. Ryan simply said, “Boss said they’re yours. You can do whatever you want with them.” Later, I learned that Liam had acquired those earrings for a project he was pursuing. The daughter of the project’s head particularly loved Anna’s jewelry designs. Getting those earrings would save him a lot of trouble. I still got an earful from Marcus because I couldn’t bear to give him the earrings. Many nights, looking at those earrings, Liam’s calm, restrained face would involuntarily appear before my eyes. But then, the earrings were stolen and sold by my roommate. I was so furious I beat her up, and it ended up at the police station. The officer told me to call someone to post bail. I looked at my contact list. After much deliberation, I called Ryan, repeatedly begging him not to tell Liam. However, as I walked out of the police station with him, the window of the black car waiting outside lowered, and Liam’s face appeared before me. I felt a little disoriented. It had been over a year since I last saw him. “Are you hurt?” Liam didn’t ask why I hit her. I shook my head. “You really liked those earrings?” Liked them enough to almost kill the person who stole them. I bit my lip guiltily. “They were very valuable.” “But I heard that person offered you all the money from selling them, yet you still didn’t let her off the hook.” My head drooped completely. “I’m sorry, Mr. Tanner. I caused you trouble.” He paused, then chuckled softly. “What kind of trouble is this?” Liam pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief and handed it to me to wipe the bloodstains from my hands. “Don’t dirty your hands for material possessions.” The handkerchief carried Liam’s unique, faint scent, and I couldn’t bring myself to soil it. Liam knew where I lived, but it was his first time visiting. The hallway walls were peeling, dark, and narrow, and the room inside was so small it was hard to turn around. A place that felt cramped for one person housed three. Liam subtly frowned. “You’ve been living in a place like this since you moved out of Cloud Creek? Are you that short on money?” He didn’t wait for my answer, instead, he instructed Ryan to go upstairs to pack my bags and move me back to Cloud Creek. Liam refused my offer of rent, so I suggested cooking him dinner. He raised an eyebrow: “Ryan said you’re a great cook?” I hadn’t expected Ryan to tell him even that. I loved to eat, and I loved experimenting with food. Once in college, when Ryan came to my apartment, I made him dinner. I walked into the kitchen, and Liam followed. He took off his suit jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and naturally picked up vegetables to wash. I was a little surprised. “I can manage by myself.” “I’ll help you out, we’ll be faster.” He moved continuously, his back tall and slender. He looked so much like the male lead from the comic I read last night. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, inviting all sorts of fantasies. After that day, Liam often brought groceries and joined me for dinner. Slowly, from initial awkwardness, I eventually became comfortable enough to unreservedly direct him to do tasks. Marcus Vance had a new celebrity girlfriend. On her birthday, she was filming on set and wanted him to visit. He didn’t have time, so he sent me with flowers and jewelry to soothe her mood. However, she was a fiery one. She took out all her anger towards Marcus on me. She splashed unfinished coffee without hesitation. Everyone on set watched in shock. Fearing they might be implicated, no one dared to step forward. I stood still, calmly allowing her to vent. I hoped that once she finished venting, she wouldn’t bother Marcus anymore. Otherwise, I’d be busy again. I still had dinner planned with Liam that evening. Just as I was zoning out a little, a cup of coffee, without warning, was also splashed onto the celebrity. It was still steaming slightly. I turned my head in astonishment, meeting Liam’s sharp jawline. He stood with one hand in his pocket, casually tossing the empty coffee cup onto a nearby table. This was the first time I had ever seen Liam angry. Even Ryan, who followed behind him, was wide-eyed in shock. I quickly pulled out tissues to wipe the celebrity. But Liam gripped my wrist, pulling me away. “I can’t leave.” If I just walked away like that, Marcus would never let me hear the end of it. Liam released me, his eyelashes slightly lowered. Our eyes met, and I clearly saw indignation in his gaze. “And now you don’t know how to fight back? Autumn, I’m genuinely curious what goes on in your head.” “I… she’s my boss’s new girlfriend. I can’t upset her.” These were just part of my job; I didn’t feel wronged. Besides, in such situations, Marcus usually offered a significant compensation afterward. No job came without its frustrations, and self-respect was often worthless in the face of money. Liam sighed helplessly. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Marcus so he doesn’t take it out on you.” Liam’s regular penthouse apartment was near the filming location. I showered at his place and changed into the clean clothes Ryan had prepared for me. When I came out, I saw Liam leaning back on the sofa, eyes closed, asleep. The fitted suit vest tightened at his waist, subtly outlining the firm lines of his abdominal muscles. His legs were relaxed, slightly parted, radiating a strong, masculine aura. It drew me towards him involuntarily. I stared at his face for a long time, then tiptoed over and gently removed his gold-rimmed glasses. Just as I was about to retreat, Liam slowly opened his eyes. At arm’s length, I couldn’t help but swallow, staring at his lips. “Mr. Tanner, I was just…” Before I could finish my sentence, his sudden kiss swept away all my words. His kiss, unlike his usual gentle demeanor, was forceful and relentless, an unending assault. After a long while, I collapsed weakly onto his chest, my legs having, at some point, wrapped around his. We were so close, we could feel the rhythm of each other’s beating hearts. As reason slowly returned, I felt a little embarrassed and tried to get up. But Liam held the back of my neck, pulling me even tighter into his embrace. “Autumn, will you be my girlfriend?” I looked up, surprised, and a smile slowly bloomed under his gentle gaze. I nodded furiously. At that young age, I believed that as long as we loved each other, we could be together forever. But I forgot that two people from different worlds, even if they occasionally intersected, would eventually drift apart. In our fourth year together, I became pregnant. Liam was overjoyed when he found out. Ryan chuckled, saying, “Looks like Boss’s proposal plan needs to be moved up.” While I was immersed in happiness, a video was sent to my phone. The video was secretly filmed through a door crack. Liam was sitting on the sofa with his back to the door, bare-chested, his lean back covered in crisscrossing blood marks. It was horrifying. The family doctor was carefully applying medicine to him. Each time the cotton swab touched a wound, his body trembled slightly. But from beginning to end, he didn’t utter a sound. [My brother loves you very much, but you might not understand our family. Our marriages are never our own to decide.] [Can you really bear to see him suffer so much for you?] [Autumn, for all he’s done for you, please let him go.] I never knew that, in places I couldn’t see, Liam had to pay such a painful price to get his family to accept me. His pride shouldn’t be repeatedly humbled because of me. When I handed him the abortion papers, his eyes instantly welled up. But he didn’t ask anything, merely pulled me gently into his embrace. He even thought up the reasons for me. “If you don’t want children, then we won’t have them. It must have hurt a lot, didn’t it? Autumn, I’m sorry. I won’t let such an accident happen again.” I coldly pushed him away. “Liam Tanner, not only do I not want a child, I don’t want you either. We… we’re breaking up.” In a perpetually rainy February, I left the city that had given me painful memories, yet also moments of happiness. I came to my adoptive mother’s hometown, Coastwood. Years ago, my adoptive father couldn’t have children, so they adopted me. Later, due to work, they moved me to Portside. After that, my adoptive mother passed away, and my adoptive father became addicted to gambling, his personality changing dramatically. The years before I met Liam were a nightmare. That’s why I loved him, and even more, I was grateful to him. Precisely because of this, I wanted him to remain the brightest sun, not drag him down from his pedestal. After my colleagues’ attention shifted from me, the conversation slowly moved to our newly appointed junior boss, Leo Vance. They said he had previously been expanding the market in Portside, then spent over half a year at a branch office before returning to headquarters. I paused, nervously confirming with a colleague. “What did you say? The junior boss came back from Portside?” “Yeah, you didn’t know?” My head buzzed. I found Leo again. “Mr. Vance, the friend you just mentioned… his last name isn’t Tanner, is it?” Leo looked surprised. “How did you know?” “The photo from earlier, can you unsend it?” Leo had sent the photo to Liam, then put his phone away. Hearing my question, he pulled his phone back out. It was already past the unsend window. Below the photo Leo sent, there were a few lines of text. [This company employee’s daughter, doesn’t she look exactly like you?] [I was stunned!] [If I didn’t know how pure you are, I’d swear she was your illegitimate child!] Just then, the person on the other end, who hadn’t replied until now, sent a new message. [Send me the address.]

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Seven years after my parents’ divorce, I made it into Harvard University. At the freshman convocation, I saw her. Eleanor Croft, there as a primary benefactor for the school. My mother. Her eyes met mine and she froze for a heartbeat. “Noah,” she started, her voice hesitant. “How… how is your father?” A bitter taste filled my throat. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm, her voice urgent. “Tell your father I’ll call. We should all have dinner together.” My eyes instantly burned with tears. I tore my arm from her grasp. It was laughable. How do you have dinner with a dead man? 01 After the ceremony, my friend sidled up to me, speaking in a low, careful voice. “Noah, was that… was Eleanor Croft your mom?” I stared at the ground, saying nothing. Seeing my silence, he tried to comfort me. “You okay? I can’t believe she’s one of the school’s big donors.” He hesitated. “There’s that welcome dance this afternoon… you might run into her again.” I forced a smile, cutting him off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got something this afternoon anyway, already got permission to skip.” He let out a small sigh of relief, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “Don’t do that, man. That fake smile thing. It freaks me out when you do that.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Gotta go.” I hadn’t made it far from the auditorium when a professor jogged over and called my name, asking me to stop by the Dean’s office. “It’s about Eleanor Croft, isn’t it?” I said it as a statement, not a question. Before he could answer, I cut him off, my voice sharp. “Please tell her for me that we have nothing to talk about.” I started to walk away again. “I have to go.” The professor looked stunned for a second, a flicker of understanding in his eyes suggesting he knew some of the story. He quickly stepped in front of me, his tone complex. “Noah, I know it’s not my place to comment on your family matters. But Ms. Croft is your mother, after all. Whatever happened, surely it can’t be so bad. She just wants to see you…” So bad? Mother? A real mother doesn’t get her child’s father killed. She had made me an orphan twice over, taking both my parents from me in one fell swoop. This was the first time I’d seen her in seven years. I didn’t look as heartbroken as I felt, nor did I fly into the rage I once would have. I was calm, as if looking at a stranger. But I hadn’t let it go. I couldn’t. Not for my dad. Eleanor’s betrayal was a debt that could never be repaid. I left campus and went straight to the cemetery. I laid out the irises Dad had always loved, arranging them carefully before the headstone. The man in the photograph was vibrant, full of life and confidence. It was taken back when he and Eleanor were dating. Back then, they were the campus golden couple, a story everyone admired. Winning academic competitions together, spending endless hours in the library, representing the university and bringing home championships… From college sweethearts to husband and wife, from the research lab to the boardroom, they lived a life straight out of a movie. I even wrote a story based on them once. My friends all said it was the sweetest thing they’d ever read. But reality isn’t a story. And the ending was anything but beautiful. I wiped dust from the framed photo, a smile playing on my lips. “Dad, I’m in college now.” “I told you I’d make it. See? I didn’t lie.” “Remember you promised me? That when I got into college, we’d go to a concert together.” “I went by myself. The Eagles. Your favorite.” My voice cracked on the last words. “Dad… I saw her today.” “…I still hate her. And I hate myself even more.” 02 I left the cemetery and just wandered, aimless. It wasn’t until a passerby pointed it out that I realized my phone was ringing. A number I didn’t recognize. Eleanor must have gotten my contact information from the university. “Noah, I just want to see you and your father…” I hung up and blocked the number. I didn’t have a mother. I was better off without her. But she clearly wasn’t going to give up. A text from another number came through moments later. [Noah, it’s your mother. You wouldn’t want me to bother your grandfather, would you?] I stared at the screen, my knuckles turning white as I clenched my fist. Seven years, and her shamelessness had reached a new level. I took a cab to the address she’d sent. She wore a couture suit, her posture regal, her grace effortless. She looked almost exactly as I remembered. But my father was gone forever. She saw me enter, put down the file in her hands, and stood up eagerly. “Noah, you’re here. Please, sit.” I didn’t move. She wasn’t angry, just kept a polite smile on her face. “I saw your academic record at the university. Very impressive. You’re my son, after all.” The praise was like acid in my ears. My achievements had nothing to do with her. In fact, it was because of her neglect and her attempts to hold me back that I had to fight so hard, to claw my way forward. Every sleepless night, every ounce of pain I swallowed, it was all thanks to her. I wanted to be a normal kid, sheltered under the wings of loving parents. What she called impressive was just what I had to do to survive. Just as I was about to speak, someone approached our table. “Eleanor, what a coincidence! And this is?” She smiled, a hint of pride in her voice. “This is my son, Noah.” While they exchanged pleasantries, I slipped away to the restroom. On my way back, I overheard the women talking in low voices. “Eleanor has a son that old?” “That’s her child with Samuel Croft.” “Ah, those two. They were the power couple of their day, built everything from the ground up together.” “Didn’t it end in a nasty cheating scandal?” “Goes to show you, people change. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Samuel around in ages…” I walked past them and returned to the table. Eleanor glanced at me. “What took you so long? There are adults here, you know. You should have said hello.” I let out a short, harsh laugh. “So, Ms. Croft, what is it you wanted?” Her brow furrowed, her voice hardening. “Noah, what is that tone?” “None of your business!” I shot back. “And another thing, I don’t have a mother. So stop trying to act like one.” She slammed her hand on the table. “I see your father really did a number on you. Is this how you speak to your elders? Get him on the phone. This is between him and me, you have no right to interfere. Call him. Now.” My eyes blazed. “You want to see him?” I spat the words out. “Eleanor Croft, do you even deserve to?” SMACK. The force of the slap snapped my head to the side, my ear ringing. “I am your mother!” I started to laugh. There she was. The real her. A cold, ruthlessly selfish businesswoman. Her nature had never changed. Once she decided on something, she didn’t care who she hurt to get it. I had to admit, that same cold calculation was what got her to where she was today. When my father met her, she had nothing. It was my grandfather, a professor who saw her potential, who sponsored her education. From the university to the corporate world, she revealed a staggering talent for business in just a few short years. She was ambitious, strategic, and driven, completely shedding her Cinderella past. And my father… he was her most trusted partner. They chased clients together, my dad handling the difficult meetings and navigating the social minefield for her. They pulled all-nighters on proposals together, my dad right by her side. He was the one who helped her build the company’s foundation, landing the first crucial clients piece by painful piece. She absorbed all his effort, all his sacrifice, and turned it into fuel for her own ascent. Her career soared, and their love story was perfect. At their wedding, she made a promise to my grandfather. “Professor, I will love and cherish Samuel for the rest of my life.” Too bad promises are the cheapest currency in the world. Those beautiful words probably never breached the walls of her calculating heart. And my father’s “rest of his life”… Because of her, it ended at thirty-three. I stared straight into her eyes, my voice eerily calm. “When you were sleeping with my classmate’s father, did you remember you were my mother then?” [ To discover the full story, unlock the next chapter. ] 03 I was the one who introduced her to the other man. It was raining hard one day, and my mom came to pick me up from school. I saw my classmate and his dad standing by the road, soaked to the bone. On a whim of pity, I asked my mom if we could give them a ride. After that, the father, Mr. Lynn, came by our house to thank us. One thing led to another, and he became a family friend. It wasn’t until I saw him at my mother’s company one day that a knot of unease began to form in my stomach. Eleanor explained it away smoothly. “Mr. Lynn is a single dad, Noah, it’s not easy. The company had an opening that was perfect for him. I talked it over with your father, and he agreed it was a good idea.” I frowned, about to protest. She just smiled and tweaked my nose. “What are you thinking? Isn’t it a good thing to help your classmate’s dad? That drive he has… it reminds me of your father and me, back when we were starting out.” Her words reminded me of the story I was writing about them, so I let it go. The next time I saw Frederick Lynn, he had been transferred from the logistics department to the executive office. He was now Eleanor’s personal assistant. The promotion was too fast, too sudden. It made me sick with anxiety. The office gossip didn’t help. “Only Fred seems to be able to handle the boss’s temper.” “If she wasn’t married, you’d think he was her boyfriend.” “They just work so well together. It’s like they can read each other’s minds.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I stormed into her office and told her what people were saying. She just laughed. “You know how much I love your father. And Fred is your classmate’s dad. What could possibly happen? People will always talk, I can’t shut everyone up.” She stroked my hair. “Noah, don’t mention this to your father. His health isn’t good, it would only upset him.” Then she made a promise. “I’ll transfer him out of my office. After a while, the rumors will die down. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” Fred was transferred, but she also told me to stop coming by the office. She said I needed to focus on my studies and stay out of adult business. I thought my father was clueless, that he was being protected from it all. Until I skipped school one day and came home to find them shouting at each other. It felt like the world had dropped out from under me. I could barely breathe. Eleanor was cheating. With Frederick Lynn. My father had caught them. In her office. Together. Her so-called discretion was just a lie to keep me quiet. Banning me from the office wasn’t to protect me, it was to stop me from discovering more. I wanted to hear more, but then Fred rushed into the room. He stood in front of Eleanor, tears streaming down his face. “Sam, it’s all my fault, blame me…” Seeing his pathetic act, I snapped. I lunged forward and slapped him across the face. Eleanor reacted instinctively, shoving me back. My dad moved to shield me, and they both tumbled to the ground. She shot us a look of pure ice. “You need to calm down. We’ll talk later.” Then she turned and walked out, taking Fred with her, without a single glance back. 04 After that fight, my dad’s health took a turn for the worse. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe it was to appease my grandfather, but Eleanor pulled some strings. She brought in Professor Albright, the top cardiologist in the field. They consulted for days, creating a detailed surgical plan for my dad, carefully adjusting his medication and recovery regimen. For a while, his condition stabilized. I would race to the hospital every day after school. Seeing the color return to his cheeks, I let myself believe that everything would be okay. Until the day I saw Frederick Lynn’s car parked outside the hospital. My heart plummeted. I sprinted upstairs. In the hospital room, Fred was putting on a show of fake concern. “Sam, Eleanor sent me to check on you. She was worried you’d be lonely.” He leaned in closer. “There are some things she can’t bring herself to say. But since it’s come to this, why not just get divorced? A loveless marriage is torture for everyone involved.” His words were daggers. I was shaking with rage. How dare he say those things to my father, in his hospital bed? I grabbed the glass vase from a nearby stand and threw it at him. He yelped in surprise, clearly not expecting me, and staggered back. I was about to go for him again when a hand clamped down on my arm, yanking me back with brutal force. Eleanor was gripping my arm, her face a mask of fury. “Noah, have you lost your mind? Where are your manners?” We had a terrible fight. “That’s my father!” I screamed, tears blinding me. “He can’t handle this stress! Fred is doing this on purpose! If anything happens to my dad…” SMACK. A sharp slap cut me off. Eleanor’s eyes were cold as stone. “Can’t you just be reasonable for once? If you keep acting like this, you can forget about me paying for your father’s surgery!” She turned to my dad. “Control your son,” she warned. “You behave, and I’ll take care of you.” After that, she dropped the pretense. She barely showed up at the hospital anymore. But Fred’s provocations didn’t stop. He would “casually” let slip details about his life with Eleanor. A new designer watch she’d bought him. A supplementary credit card she’d given him. He even left a prenatal appointment card for Eleanor on my dad’s bedside table. I found it, of course. I hugged my dad, my voice choked with sobs. “Dad, as soon as the surgery is over, we’ll leave. We’ll go far away from them. I won’t let them hurt you anymore.” He forced a smile and patted my head. “My Noah’s all grown up. You can protect your dad now.” He pointed to a document on the table. “Don’t worry. I’ve already signed them. As soon as the surgery is done, I’ll give them to her.” He meant the divorce papers that had been sitting there for weeks. All I could think was, after the surgery. After he’s better, we can finally be free of her. But that thought never became a reality. My father’s condition suddenly took a critical downturn. The monitors shrieked, and the doctors said he needed emergency surgery. But we couldn’t reach Professor Albright. I couldn’t reach him, the hospital couldn’t reach him. I started frantically dialing Eleanor’s number. After countless calls that went straight to voicemail, she finally picked up. “Dad’s in critical condition, he needs surgery now! Why can’t anyone get ahold of Professor Albright?” Eleanor’s voice was laced with irritation. “Noah, stop making a scene. I know your father’s condition, it’s not time for the surgery yet. Fred’s mother has a heart issue, and she needs Professor Albright to operate. I’ve already arranged for other specialists to take over your father’s case.” “You just stay with him and stop being so dramatic. I’m very busy. If you need anything, call my assistant.” Right before she hung up, I heard Fred’s voice in the background. “Didn’t Sam walk in on us that day and he was fine? Noah’s probably just exaggerating.” A roar filled my ears, and the world went white. Everything after that is a blur. All I remember is the light above the operating room door going out. A doctor emerged, looked at me, and slowly shook his head. … I snapped back to the present, about to say something to Eleanor, when a familiar voice cut through the air. “Noah? I thought you were visiting your dad’s grave today. What are you doing here?” The woman beside me froze, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

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I’ve had a crush on Silas ever since sophomore year of high school. When his team lost a major rivalry game, his teammates jokingly suggested I should go “distract” the opposing team’s star player to help Silas out next time. I looked at Silas, who was nodding along in agreement with his bros, and I just smiled. “Fine. I’ll give it a shot.” I grabbed a Gatorade and handed it to the guy who had just dominated the court. Later, that same guy absolutely crushed Silas’s team in the playoffs. 1 In the dorm, Maya finished her makeup and turned to me. “Hey Clara, aren’t you heading out yet?” “Where to?” I asked, confused. Maya acted shocked. “No way. Silas didn’t tell you the team has a big scrimmage tonight?” Everyone in the room looked over. It wasn’t a secret that Silas was the golden boy—star quarterback, straight-A student, and the guy every girl wanted. “Why would he tell me?” I played it cool. Maya teased, “I thought you guys were close? I figured he’d definitely want his ‘number one fan’ in the stands.” Close? I guess. We grew up next door to each other and went to the same schools since we were kids. In high school, I confessed to him. He told me, “Clara, I’m focused on scouts right now. Let’s see where we are in college.” I waited. We both ended up at the same university. But nothing changed. Silas was the same as he was in high school—always surrounded by pretty girls, but always calling them “just friends.” Eventually, I realized I was just another face in his “friend” rotation. Seeing my silence, Maya smirked. “Our department is playing the Engineering guys tonight. Come on, Clara, just come with me.” The rejection was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t say it. Because of Silas, I still wanted to go. When we got to the court, one of his teammates spotted me. “Yo, Silas! Your shadow is here.” Silas looked up, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing here?” My heart sank. Was I really that unwelcome? Maya stepped in immediately. “Silas, I made her come. You only invited me, and I didn’t want to be bored.” Her voice was sweet, possessive. She was the invited guest; I was the intruder. 2 We sat in the front row, and the game started fast. Maya was screaming Silas’s name, cheering for every play. Silas kept glancing our way. Maya leaned in, whispering, “See how much he’s looking at me? I’m worried I’m distracting him.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Her worry was misplaced because Silas couldn’t have played worse if he tried. The Engineering team was a powerhouse. Their coordination and shooting percentage blew our guys out of the water. Half-time hit. Maya rushed over with water—only for Silas. He took it and drank, but before he did, he shot another look at me. The guys on the bench started talking about the other team. “Who is their number 7? Caleb Reed?” “He’s a beast. I heard he’s single. Maybe we should set him up with one of the girls from our department so he goes easy on us next time, haha.” Someone looked at me. “Send Clara.” Someone else nudged him. “Dude, shut up. You know Clara is into Silas.” “Even better. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?” “If he gets a girlfriend, he might not have the ‘stamina’ for the fourth quarter, catch my drift? Hahaha.” They made crude jokes at my expense, laughing loud enough for Silas to hear. Silas said nothing. Maya looked at him intentionally. “Silas, what do you think of that idea?” Silas shrugged, looking completely indifferent. “Yeah, why not? Whatever works.” Hearing that, the anger I had been holding onto suddenly vanished. It turned into cold clarity. I smiled. “Sure. I’ll try. I actually think he’s a much better player anyway.” Silas’s expression finally shifted. 3 I grabbed a cold bottle of water and walked toward the opposing bench. Caleb Reed was sitting there, laughing with his friends. I tapped his shoulder with the bottle. “Hey. Want some water?” The group went quiet and looked at me. I felt my face heat up. Up close, I realized he wasn’t just good at basketball—he was stunning. “Here we go,” one of his teammates muttered. “Caleb, another one. You gonna reject her—” The teammate stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening. Caleb smirked and reached for the water. Our fingers brushed, and I felt a jolt of electricity. I pulled back instantly. “Thanks,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. “No problem,” I said, turning to leave. A lazy voice trailed behind me. “Wait. You’re giving me water but going back to cheer for the other team?” I froze. The buzzer sounded for the second half. “Here, sit.” Caleb stood up to head onto the court, leaving his seat empty. His friend, Jackson, waved me over. “I’m Jackson. Who are you? You’re definitely not an Engineering major. You’re the first girl whose water Caleb has actually accepted.” The first? Well, at least the universe didn’t let me get rejected in front of Silas. Jackson was a chatterbox. He asked a million questions. “Doesn’t he get tired?” I asked, pointing at Caleb. He had played every minute so far. “Caleb? Man’s a machine. He could finish this game and go run a 5K just for fun.” Jackson’s exaggeration made me laugh, breaking the tension of sitting on the “enemy” side. Caleb suddenly jogged over. “Jackson, swap with me. You’re in for the fourth.” Jackson groaned. “Caleb, I’m beat.” “You seem plenty energized to me. You haven’t stopped talking for ten minutes. Get in there.” Caleb’s hair was soaked with sweat. He wiped his face with a towel and sat down right next to me. “What are you guys laughing about?” I blinked. “You were watching us from the court?” “I have great vision,” Caleb said, a confident tilt to his lips. “How else do you think I make those three-pointers?” 4 The result was a blowout. When Silas’s team came over to shake hands, he looked miserable. His eyes cut past Caleb to me. “You still haven’t left? Is it that fun sitting over here?” It was just a scrimmage. I didn’t get why he was being so aggressive. I shrugged and looked at Caleb. “I have to get back to my friends. See ya.” As soon as I got to Maya, she was prying. “Clara, did you know Caleb Reed before tonight?” “Just met him.” “Wow, Clara is just so popular with guys. I could never compete.” She said it loud enough for the whole group to hear. I frowned. She was laying the “pick-me” act on thick. Silas suggested getting late-night pizza. Maya looked at me with fake concern. “Clara, I’m going with the guys. You don’t mind walking back to the dorm alone, right?” “Fine by me,” I nodded. “You’re coming too,” Silas commanded. Maya’s smile faltered. In the past, if Silas invited me to dinner, I would have been over the moon. But tonight, I had no desire to watch him flirt with other girls. “No thanks. I’m tired,” I said. Silas acted like he didn’t hear me. “Don’t you love that new pizza place by the stadium?” I had sent Silas the link to that place the day it opened, asking him to go. He always said he was “too busy”—meaning he was busy with his new “friends.” I met his eyes. “That was a long time ago. I’m not hungry for it anymore.” Later, lying in bed, I scrolled through Instagram. Silas had posted five minutes ago. A photo of him and Maya. Caption: Lost the game, but won the girl. My thumb hovered over the screen. For years, seeing Silas with other girls hurt. But seeing this? I felt a strange sense of relief. Good for him. As a “friend,” I should be happy. 5 “Hey babies, pizza’s here!” Maya walked back into the dorm with two boxes. “This place is so good. I had to bring some back for you guys. Silas’s treat!” My other two roommates rushed over. “Silas is so sweet to you. We saw the post—is it official?” They glanced at me. “I guess the secret’s out,” Maya giggled. When I didn’t move, she walked over to my bed. “Clara, want a slice?” “No thanks, I already brushed my teeth.” “Too bad. I got this specifically for the room.” My phone buzzed. A DM from Silas: [I sent some food back to the dorm. Did you eat?] Silas was always like this. After he rejected me in high school, he brought me my favorite breakfast the next day, saying he “happened” to pass by the bakery. He gave flowers to another girl at a talent show, but waited an hour afterward to drive me home. He bailed on our graduation trip to go with a group that included a girl I hated. I didn’t speak to him all summer, but he showed up before move-in day to help me pack, promising my parents he’d “look after me” at college. One slap, one piece of candy. And I had eaten it up every time. I told myself he just wasn’t ready for a relationship in high school. I told myself I was special to him. But he didn’t love me. He just didn’t want to lose his safety net. It was time to wake up. 6 The next day, in the guys’ dorm. Caleb checked the time and shut off his PC. Jackson looked up from his monitor. “Caleb, where are you going? The raid is just starting.” “Class.” Caleb grabbed his phone and headed out. “Dude, it’s an elective! Who actually goes to those? Just stay and play!” Jackson yelled at his back. I had just sat down in the lecture hall when I got texts from Silas and Maya. Silas: [I’m skipping today. Sign me in.] Maya: [Silas and I are on a date! Can you cover for us and sign us both in?] I tapped out a quick “K” on my phone, feeling annoyed. Suddenly, a familiar voice sat down beside me. “Small world.” I looked up. Caleb. “Can I sit here?” he asked, pointing to the empty chair. I nodded. “Thanks for the water yesterday,” he said. My heart skipped. I prayed he wouldn’t ask why I gave it to him. He didn’t. He just pulled out his phone. “We should trade numbers. You know, for ‘class notes’.” I looked at him, skeptical. “Class notes?” Caleb grinned. “Or so I can save you a seat next time.” I looked around at the half-empty room. There were plenty of seats. The class was Film Appreciation. Today, the professor was showing a clip from Old Yeller. I knew I was in trouble. I’m a sucker for dog movies. Last week, she showed Eight Below, and I cried so hard the professor called on me to explain the “emotional resonance” of the scene in front of everyone. I decided to just look at my phone and ignore the screen. “Not watching? Afraid you’ll cry?” Caleb whispered. “How did you know?” “I was here last week. It was… memorable.” I blushed. Caleb chuckled and slid a travel pack of tissues across the desk. “It’s okay. You can cry. I brought backup.” 7 After class, I went to the restroom to splash cold water on my face. The professor had indeed called on me again. “Clara seems to have the deepest connection to these films. Clara, tell us the difference in the themes of loss between the two movies.” The whole class laughed. It was social suicide. I walked out of the restroom to find Caleb leaning against the balcony railing, scrolling through his phone. “You’re… still here?” Caleb put his phone away. “Waiting for you.” As we walked back toward the dorms, I couldn’t figure it out. Why was he waiting for me? Was he just this nice to everyone? I was so deep in thought that I didn’t notice the electric scooter zipping around the corner. Caleb moved fast, pulling me toward him. The girl on the scooter panicked, swerved the wrong way, and slammed right into Caleb’s leg. 8 Caleb was wearing shorts, and his knee was already turning a nasty shade of red. “Are you okay?” I asked frantically after the girl apologized and left. “We should go to the campus clinic.” Caleb laughed. “Clara, if I go to the clinic for a bruise, the nurse will tell me I’m lucky I didn’t die of a paper cut.” I turned red. I remembered a boba shop nearby and told him, “Wait here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” I bought two drinks and asked for a bag of ice. When I got back, Caleb was sitting on a stone bench. He smiled when he saw me. “I thought you went to buy me a ‘get well soon’ balloon.” “Very funny.” I handed him the ice. “Hold this on your knee so it doesn’t swell.” He took it, teasing, “You’re more worried about my leg than I am.” “Of course! You have a big game coming up. I can’t be the reason you’re off the court.” I sat next to him, sipping my boba. “The other one is for you… I didn’t know what you liked, so I got my favorite.” Caleb turned to look at me. “Clara, has anyone ever told you that you’re adorable?” I blinked. “Uh, yeah. Sometimes.” Then I realized what he was actually saying. My face went scarlet. The air between us felt heavy and quiet until Caleb spoke again. “Clara.” “Yeah?” “I was really happy you gave me that water yesterday. Come to the next game and cheer for me, okay?”

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Julian spent $100,000 on a fireworks show for his newly hired secretary. He even remembered to text me: [Elena, I’ll give you a fireworks show on our tenth anniversary.] That was exactly what I wanted ten years ago. Back then, we were broke. After getting our marriage license, we could only afford sparklers. Now, watching the sky light up with fireworks, I scrolled back to our announcement video from ten years ago, took a screenshot, and posted it on my feed: [In the end, it all comes down to this.] Julian didn’t come home that night. The next day, I had a courier deliver him a divorce agreement. Arriving with it was a letter from a slow-mail service, sent ten years ago. In the letter, Julian had handwritten: [Did I love Elena a little more today?] 1 As soon as he received the divorce agreement, Julian called me immediately: “Elena, what are you making a fuss about now? “Do you find it amusing to bring up divorce over every little thing? “You’re thirty this year, not three. Can you act a little more mature?” He was furious. His tone was filled with blame. Before I could reply, a coquettish female voice came through the phone: “Mr. Vance, don’t be angry. Sister probably didn’t mean to argue with you. She’s just getting older and might be in a bad mood. Just coax her a little and she’ll be fine.” Julian seemed even angrier: “Shut up.” Then he yelled at me: “Elena, I’m coming back now. We’ll talk this out face-to-face.” 2 Right after he hung up, I received a notification for new social media posts. A girl named “Blooming Youth” posted three times in a row: [Ugh, my ‘brother’ actually yelled at me. His punishment is not seeing my smile for a whole week.] The accompanying picture was of Julian’s CEO office. [Hehe, my ‘brother’ apologized. He said the woman at home was acting up again and told me to be a good girl and not to cause trouble. Fine, I forgive him.] The picture was of two cups of premium bubble tea. [My ‘brother’ has to go home and coax that old hag again. Older women really are so demanding. Unlike me, I only feel sorry for him.] The picture was a side profile of a pale, innocent face. She was Julian’s newly hired secretary, Chloe. Three months ago, Julian desperately needed a document and sent Chloe to our house to get it. I happened to be home at the time. The young girl, barely in her twenties, wore light makeup. Her cheeks were fair and plump. Her high ponytail swayed in the breeze. She wore casual sportswear. She gave off the vibe of an innocent high school girl. After getting the document, she smiled and asked for my social media handle. Without thinking much of it, I agreed. Before leaving, she affectionately hooked her arm through mine: “Elena, what’s your skincare secret? You don’t look like you’re pushing thirty at all. No signs of aging. “Unlike me, I’m barely twenty and I feel like I’m already getting wrinkles.” She smiled brightly. Her eyes looked sincere. I put on a professional, fake smile: “It’s simple. Don’t say things you shouldn’t, and don’t do things you shouldn’t.” After that day, I talked to Julian about Chloe. He chuckled playfully: “What, are you jealous? “She’s just a naive little girl fresh out of school. Don’t worry, she’s no threat to you. “Besides, HR hired her, and you know our company’s processes are very transparent. “Moreover, don’t you trust your husband? We fell in love at seventeen, married at twenty, and it’s been almost ten years now. “No one can destroy our relationship.” At that time, I looked at the earnest Julian in front of me. His youthful vows still echoed in my ears. True love conquers all. But no one ever mentioned that true love could also create those very obstacles. 3 Yesterday was the company’s ninth anniversary. It was also a major milestone as the company’s profits surpassed one billion dollars. As the Vice President, I should have been there. But there was a problem with a contract from a major client down south. The client had to be appeased immediately. Julian couldn’t leave. And since we signed the client together and had been working with them for over five years… He only felt comfortable if I went. Although I was the Vice President, I had gradually been relinquishing my power since last year. I was preparing for pregnancy. I only participated in company affairs occasionally. I was confident about this business trip. After settling everything, I went home and crashed. I just didn’t expect the company’s celebration banquet last night to be so “exciting.” At 10 PM, Julian called to check in: “Elena, I won’t be coming home tonight. The veteran employees want to celebrate until 3 AM. You’ve had a hard day, get some good rest.” I had complaints, but I swallowed them. It was the company’s ninth anniversary, growing from a mom-and-pop shop to the leading enterprise in the city. The employees who had fought alongside us deserved to be rewarded. I simply reminded him: “No smoking, and don’t drink too much. We’re still trying for a baby.” “Yes, ma’am!” His phone call chased away my sleepiness. The red notification dots on my social media app practically begged to be clicked. Amidst the overwhelming sea of updates, I immediately locked onto Chloe’s. [He said he couldn’t promise me all his love, so he promised me a sky full of fireworks instead.] The accompanying pictures were nine live photos of a hundred-thousand-dollar fireworks show. The fireworks clearly spelled out the initials “CC.” I clicked on the first live photo. A deep, lingering male voice instantly turned my hands and feet to ice: “Little Chloe, has your eighteenth birthday wish come true now?” It was Julian’s voice. At the same time, I received a voice message from Julian: [Elena, the company’s fireworks show is beautiful tonight.] [Wait until our tenth anniversary, I’ll give you a fireworks show just for you.] The exact same voice. Just lacking a bit of intimacy and indulgence. Refusing to give up, I went back to Chloe’s post and clicked on the second live photo: “Brother, is this fireworks show really just for me?” Third live photo: “Yes, just for my little Chloe.” Fourth live photo: “But these are clearly the company’s fireworks. They’re not just mine.” Fifth photo: “The company’s banquet didn’t have fireworks planned. I custom-ordered these for you.” Sixth photo: “Be a good girl. They’re just benefiting from your special treat.” … Nine live photos completely shattered the illusion of my beautiful romance. I stood on the balcony. From the eighteenth floor, the entire city spread out before me. Clusters of blue and purple fireworks exploded in the sky. Chloe’s updates kept coming, one after another. [Let those unspoken feelings drown in this sky full of fireworks.] … It was as if she were mocking pathetic me. Ten years ago, I also wanted a fireworks show just for myself. 4 Back then, Julian and I had just graduated from college. He majored in software engineering, and I majored in economics. He wanted to start a tech company. And I had passed the civil service exam in my hometown. Coming from a small town, we had no backing. Everyone around us mocked him for his pipe dreams. But when he looked at me with hopeful eyes, I didn’t hesitate to throw away my secure job and follow him to the big city. During our poorest year, we got our marriage license. Tears welled up in his eyes: “Elena, I’m sorry. When we’re successful, whatever wedding gift you want, I’ll make it up to you.” At the time, I still loved romantic dramas. The male lead always confessed his love deeply under a sky full of fireworks. So, I told him: “I want a fireworks show that belongs only to Elena.” That day, we played a fireworks scene from a TV show. We lit sparklers. And made a vow to be together forever. Now, the company had been running for almost ten years. The fireworks show that was once out of reach, Julian could easily throw hundreds of times. Yet he custom-ordered a hundred-thousand-dollar fireworks show for his little mistress first. Now, clicking on the video we took the day we got our marriage license… The girl holding a sparkler, smiling sweetly at the camera, looked so naive and ridiculous. So, no matter how deeply we once loved each other… This is how it all ends! I had been deceiving myself, refusing to believe the clues that had long been obvious. … A noise came from the entryway. Julian was back. 5 His anger seemed to have subsided significantly: “Elena, let’s not fight anymore, okay?” He held a pink envelope in his hand. It was the proof of love we left at a slow-mail shop in the city ten years ago. At the time, I badgered him to see what he had written in the letter. He hugged me tight and whispered in my ear: “Elena, the me ten years from now will give you the answer.” The warm breath, the youthful flutter. It was a beautiful memory that made me blush every time I thought about it. He had put my contact information on that letter. This surprise from ten years ago had now become a joke. I looked at the envelope and asked, “Julian, did you love Elena a little more today?” His expression froze, and he said somewhat awkwardly, “Of course.” I pressed, “Of course what?” He replied, “Of course I love Elena.” I continued, “Who ‘of course loves Elena’?” He looked displeased, “Elena, why are you getting more melodramatic as you get older? Julian loves Elena. Are you satisfied now?” I took the envelope from his hand and opened the yellowed letter: “Julian, ten years ago you wrote: ‘Did I love Elena a little more today?’” “But ten years later, you don’t love me more. Because you’ve transferred that love to someone else.” He rubbed his temples in frustration: “Elena, we’re not kids anymore. Can we stop being so dramatic? “I’ve told you I’ll only love you in this life, and you will be my only wife.” I played Chloe’s live photo. Julian’s deep but clear voice came from it: [Little Chloe, has your eighteenth birthday wish come true now?] [Be a good girl. They’re just benefiting from your special treat.] Hearing his voice, Julian snatched the phone away: “Elena, is this fun for you? Having me followed!” Seeing that it was Chloe’s post, he hurriedly explained: “That kid said she’d never seen a fireworks show. As her boss, I was just fulfilling her wish.” His explanation was truly laughable. “So you custom-ordered a hundred-thousand-dollar fireworks show for her? Mr. Vance, you are truly generous. “You’ve read the divorce agreement, right? If there are no issues, just sign it!” Seeing my firm stance, he finally realized I was serious. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance, his tone filled with resignation: “Elena, stop arguing with me, okay? I have absolutely crossed no lines with Chloe. “I just think she looks a little like you did ten years ago: clumsy, silly, with a fearless drive. “This fireworks show was entirely because she casually mentioned it was her 18th birthday wish, and it reminded me that your wish at 20 was also to have a fireworks show. “That’s why I agreed. Honestly, I did this for the 20-year-old you. “And I promised, on our tenth anniversary, I’ll give you an even grander fireworks show.” I really don’t understand men. Why would compensation for a lover be given to a mistress? His lover is right here, isn’t she? I didn’t know how to respond to him. I could only crouch on the floor, burying my head in my arms. I tried my best to hold back my sobs. But my body wouldn’t stop shaking. Julian hugged me from behind: “Elena, give me a little more trust, please? “We went from school uniforms to wedding attire. I would never betray the sincere heart you showed when you ran to me without hesitation. “Actually, I have some good news.” 6 He grabbed my hand. His index finger constantly stroked my wedding ring. “Before I came back, Arthur called me and told me you’re pregnant.” Julian and I had been trying to get pregnant for over a year. But there had been no good news. A week ago, we went to the hospital for another checkup. The doctor was our mutual friend—Arthur. The three of us went to college together. Arthur was a groomsman at our wedding. Now, this good news was delivered by our good friend. If Chloe wasn’t around, how wonderful this would be. I slowly raised my head. The tear streaks made my face look even more haggard: “Julian, what did you say?” He gently wiped away the teardrops from the corner of my eye: “Elena, we’re having a baby. We’re going to be parents.” I let out a mocking laugh: “A baby is only willing to come to a family where the father loves the mother. Julian, do you think this baby wants to come?” He held me tightly in his arms: “Elena, what exactly do I have to do for you to believe that I love you?” I broke free from his embrace, looked up, and met his eyes: “They say, ‘Where a man’s money is, his love is,’ right?” He seemed to see a glimmer of hope: “Elena, all my assets are in your name. What else do you have to worry about?” I sneered: “Julian, you run a company. I think you should be very clear about how marital property is divided.” Perhaps out of guilt for his infidelity, or perhaps eager to prove his love so I would safely deliver his child… That very day, we signed a marital property agreement in front of a lawyer. The agreement stipulated that all real estate under our names would belong solely to me, and the other party would no longer have any rights or interests in those properties. At the same time, we notarized the agreement and registered the transfer of the real estate. A week later, I received five properties and three commercial storefronts. Along with the five million dollars in our joint account. Julian and I maintained a superficial peace. This embryo became the only bond between us. Sustaining this fractured marriage. I no longer brought up Chloe. He also seemed to forget that I had brought up divorce. Instead, he started instructing the nanny to prepare nutritious meals. Every day, he would send me flowers, bags, jewelry, and clothes in different ways. Men can be so pathetic. Half a month later, Arthur called, urging me to go in for a prenatal checkup. In the examination room, his voice was slightly hoarse: “Elena, how have you been lately?”

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For the first time in seven years, I returned to the Miller estate for Christmas Eve dinner. When I saw my foster sister, Sophie, our eyes met, and the air between us went cold—a heavy, suffocating silence that neither of us knew how to break. During the first course, my foster father, Henry, reached over and patted my shoulder. His hand felt heavy, like a ghost from a life I’d tried to bury. “Silas, having you move out back then… it was a desperate situation. I hope you don’t hold it against us.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He took a sip of his wine and added, “But your timing is perfect. Sophie is getting married next week.” I knew exactly what he was doing. He was marking his territory, reminding me of the boundaries I had supposedly crossed nearly a decade ago. I pressed my lips together, my thumb brushing against the cool metal on my left hand. I raised my glass toward Sophie. “Then let me be the first to say it. Congratulations, Sophie. I wish you a happy marriage.” Sophie didn’t drink. Her gaze was locked on the diamond band glinting on my ring finger. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. My foster mother, Diane, let out a sharp, surprised breath. “Silas? Where did that ring come from?” I looked around the table at the people who had raised me, then discarded me. A bitter, dry laugh escaped my throat. “I forgot to mention. I’ve been married for seven years.” 1 Henry’s brow furrowed into deep, judgmental lines. “Seven years? You were barely twenty. What kind of nonsense is this?” “We are your parents, Silas—even if not by blood,” Diane chimed in, her voice shrill with a hurt that felt performed. “A marriage isn’t a small thing. How could you not tell us?” Seven years ago, they hadn’t “asked” me to move out. They had cast me out into the cold because I was accused of having “vile intentions” toward their biological daughter. I was the stray dog they’d taken in, only to decide I had rabies the moment things got complicated. I didn’t tell them about my marriage because, for seven years, they hadn’t existed to me. But they had raised me for fifteen years before the fall, and some part of me—the part that still remembered the boy who just wanted to belong—couldn’t quite bring itself to hate them completely. I looked at Henry, my expression a mask of calm. “I’m telling you now. In fact, I asked my wife to join us tonight. I wanted her to meet the family.” Diane, sensing the tension reaching a breaking point, tried to smooth it over. “Well, it’s Christmas. The fact that Silas came home is enough. Where is she, then? Your wife?” I glanced at my watch. The Rolex was a gift from her. “She had a last-minute conference call. She’ll be here in about two hours.” Throughout the meal, I felt Sophie’s eyes on me. It was a weight I refused to acknowledge. Finally, unable to handle being ignored, she pushed her chair back. “Mom, Dad, the tailor finished the final adjustments on the gown. Bennett went to pick it up, but I should go meet him. It’s a lot to carry.” She paused, her fingers drumming on the mahogany table right in front of me. She looked down at me, her eyes a swirling storm of confusion and something that looked dangerously like resentment. “Silas, you haven’t met your future brother-in-law yet. Why don’t you come with me to pick him up?” I wanted to say no. The “no” was right there on the tip of my tongue. But I felt Henry and Diane watching me, their eyes narrow with suspicion, waiting to see if I’d fold, waiting to see if I still carried that old, pathetic torch for their daughter. I stood up. I had to prove to them—and maybe to myself—that the boy who loved Sophie Miller was dead. On the way to the garage, the winter air bit at my skin. Sophie broke the silence first. “How have you been, Silas? Really?” I didn’t look at her. I watched the snow falling into the driveway. “I’ve been fine.” She stumbled slightly, her pace faltering. She looked like she wanted to say a thousand things, but in the end, she just hurried to the car. She reached for the passenger door, swinging it open for me with a practiced, familiar grace. I walked right past her and climbed into the back seat. Sophie’s reflection in the rearview mirror showed a sharp frown. “Do you really have to be this cold?” I turned my head to the window, watching the skeletal trees of the estate blur past. “Your fiancé is waiting. Let’s not keep him.” She let out a long, frustrated sigh and put the car in gear. “His name is Bennett. You should try being polite.” I didn’t answer. We drove in a silence so thick it felt like physical pressure. When we pulled up to the luxury bridal boutique downtown, the door was opened almost immediately by a man in a tailored charcoal overcoat. He looked like he’d stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad—polished, wealthy, and perfectly coiffed. “Sophie, babe, I told you I’d handle the dress,” he said, sliding into the passenger seat. He immediately took off his cashmere scarf and wrapped it around Sophie’s neck. “It’s freezing. I can’t have my bride-to-be catching a cold.” Sophie’s expression softened instantly. “I just wanted to see you.” They shared a nauseatingly sweet moment before the man—Bennett—noticed me in the back. “Oh,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Bennett, this is Silas,” Sophie introduced us, her voice tight. “My brother.” “Silas, this is Bennett Crawford.” I gave a polite nod. “Nice to meet you, Bennett.” Bennett didn’t offer his hand. Instead, he leaned back, looking me up and down with a smirk that set my teeth on edge. “So, this is the legendary Silas? The foster brother who was… let’s say, fond of you, Sophie?” The air in the car turned arctic. “Wait, I didn’t mean—” I started, but Bennett cut me right off. “I’m just kidding, man. Relax,” he said, though his eyes were sharp and mocking. “Unless you still have those… uncleanthoughts about your sister?” I felt a flash of heat in my chest, but I suppressed it. I simply lifted my left hand, letting the light catch my wedding band. “You’ve got the wrong idea, Bennett. I’ve been married for a long time.” 2 The drive back felt like an eternity. I leaned my forehead against the cold glass of the window, my mind drifting back to a time before the silence. Twenty years ago, my parents had been killed in a mountain climbing accident while saving Henry Miller’s life. The Millers had taken me in out of a sense of profound, heavy debt. I remembered arriving at that massive, intimidating house as a child, screaming for my mother in the middle of the night. It was Sophie—two years older and infinitely braver—who had sat by my bed every night, whispering stories until the grief receded. I had loved her with the clumsy, overwhelming intensity of a boy who had nothing else to hold onto. During puberty, I mistook that desperate gratitude for romance. I wanted the whole world to know she was mine because she was the only thing that made me feel like I wasn’t an intruder in my own life. Sophie hadn’t pushed me away then. She’d just laugh, ruffling my hair. “Silas, you’re always stuck to me. How are you ever going to find a wife if you’re chasing your sister?” “I don’t want anyone else,” I’d tell her, with the terrifying sincerity of a fifteen-year-old. “I’m only ever marrying you.” She’d smile then, her eyes bright and soft. “It’s a deal, then.” Those whispered promises felt like a fever dream now. When we reached the house, I got out of the car without a word and headed inside. Diane met me in the foyer, her eyes searching my face for cracks. “Did you meet Bennett?” she whispered. I nodded. “He seems… successful. They’re a good match.” She seemed to deflate with relief. She reached out, touching my arm. “Silas, listen. Even if you aren’t ours by blood, we always wanted the best for you. Some things… some mistakes from the past…” I gently removed her hand from my sleeve. “Diane. Don’t. There’s no point in digging up the past tonight.” She let out a long breath, then pulled me toward the living room. “You’re right. Let’s focus on the present. We have something for you.” She opened a velvet box on the coffee table. Inside was a Patek Philippe—understated, elegant, and incredibly expensive. I didn’t refuse it. I knew Diane. In her world, guilt was managed through high-end retail. If this watch helped her sleep, I’d take it. Despite the seven years of exile, I knew she had cared for me in her own limited way. She took the watch out of the box, gesturing for me to hold out my arm so she could fit it. I pushed back my sleeve. But before the metal could touch my skin, Bennett’s voice sliced through the room. “Mom?” He was standing in the doorway, his face twisted in a scowl. “Sophie spent three months tracking down that specific vintage piece for me. You’re just going to give it to him?” He walked over, his eyes cold as he looked at me. “My fiancée bought that. I don’t think it belongs on a stranger’s wrist.” Diane froze, caught between her husband’s future son-in-law and the boy she’d raised. I didn’t make her choose. I took the watch, set it back in the velvet lining, and looked at Bennett with a thin smile. “If your fiancée bought it, I wouldn’t dream of taking it.” Bennett stepped closer, his voice dropping to a hiss. “Good. At least you have some self-awareness. A charity case who got kicked out of the house shouldn’t be wearing thirty-thousand-dollar watches anyway.” 3 The room went deathly quiet. It was the one thing no one was supposed to say out loud. The “incident” was the rot underneath the floorboards of the Miller family, and Bennett had just ripped up the wood. But to his disappointment, I didn’t flinch. Seven years is a long time to build up scar tissue. Seeing that I wasn’t riled, Bennett opened his mouth to dig deeper, but Henry cut him off with a sharp bark. “It’s Christmas Eve. We aren’t going to bicker over a watch.” With the patriarch’s word final, Bennett just glared at me and subsided. Henry looked around the room. “The sun is down. Everyone, let’s head to the chapel.” The Millers had a private chapel on the edge of the estate, a tradition they took very seriously. As I stood up to follow, Bennett spoke again, his tone dripping with fake concern. “Wait, Dad. Didn’t Silas say he was married?” He turned to me, a predatory glint in his eye. “Shouldn’t we wait for his wife? It seems a bit rude to start the family tradition without the new ‘family member,’ doesn’t it?” Henry paused, considering. “He’s right. Silas, the first year of marriage is significant. She should be here for the memorial service. How far away is she?” I checked my phone. No new messages. “She hasn’t updated me. We should go ahead. I don’t want to hold everyone up.” “Why the rush?” Bennett asked, tilting his head. “Are you worried she won’t show? Or are you worried she doesn’t actually exist?” “The weather is bad,” I said, my voice level. “Planes get delayed. I just don’t want to waste everyone’s time.” Bennett turned to Sophie. His voice was soft, but his eyes were fixed on me. “Babe, we don’t mind waiting for Silas’s wife, do we?” Sophie looked at me, her expression unreadable. “It’s her first time here. We should wait.” She paused, a flicker of something—sadness? Bitterness?—crossing her face. “Besides… I’d like to see the woman my brother chose.” The air grew heavy again. I started to protest, but Bennett talked over me. “Come on, Silas. You look nervous. Did you just make her up so you wouldn’t look pathetic coming back here alone?” I frowned. “Why would I do that?” Bennett laughed, a low, ugly sound. “Who knows? Maybe because you’re still obsessed with your sister? Maybe you thought a fake wife would make us forget that you tried to drug her and force yourself on her seven years ago?” He leaned in, making sure everyone heard the next part. “You got caught like a dog and thrown out. If I were you, I’d be desperate to lie, too.” 4 Looking at Bennett’s sneering face, the humiliation I’d buried seven years ago surged back up like bile. Seven years ago, at the end of my nineteenth birthday party, I had cornered Sophie in the rose garden. I was shaking, unable to look her in the eye. “Sophie, I know you think I’m just a kid,” I’d told her. “But I love you. Not like a brother. Let me take care of you. Please.” Sophie hadn’t said anything. Her face was flushed deep red—I thought it was from the wine, or from the heat of the moment. She’d looked at me for a long time before whispering, “Silas, is this a dream?” Before I could answer, she had kissed me. She tasted like heavy liquor and desperation. I was terrified and thrilled all at once, responding with the clumsiness of someone who had never been touched like that. Then, a hand had ripped us apart. A stinging pain exploded across my face as Henry’s palm connected with my cheek. I remember the ringing in my ears, the sight of Henry’s face purple with rage, and the words “predator” and “assault” being hurled at me like stones. The guests had gathered, whispering. To them, Sophie looked disheveled and dazed—the perfect image of a victim. Henry had dragged her away that night. Diane had checked me into a hotel, telling me never to come back to the house. The rumors spread like wildfire. Online, I was branded a monster who had tried to violate his own foster sister. The university expelled me. The internet vitriol was a suffocating blanket. I begged Sophie to tell them the truth—that she had kissed me—but she stayed silent. Finally, the Millers paid for a one-way ticket to Europe and told me to disappear. It was the price of their “mercy.” Now, looking at Bennett, I felt a strange wave of pity. He was marrying a woman who had let a boy’s life be destroyed rather than admit to a moment of drunken weakness. Bennett mistook my silence for admission. “Do you have any idea how much shame you brought this family? If I were you, I’d be too ashamed to breathe, let alone show my face here.” He stepped into my personal space. “Look at you. You’re a curse, Silas. I heard your parents died right after you were born. Maybe you were the one who killed them, too.” The world went white. Before I even realized I’d moved, my hand connected with Bennett’s jaw. The crack echoed in the foyer. Bennett stumbled back, a hand to his face, shock written in his eyes. The relatives immediately swarmed. “What’s happening?” “Silas, for God’s sake! You can’t just hit people!” Seeing the audience, Bennett immediately slumped, putting on the act of the wounded party. Sophie’s eyes, usually so bright, turned sharp and cold. “Silas! No matter what happened, Bennett is your future brother-in-law. How could you lay a hand on him?” I was done with the charade. I looked her dead in the eye. “Does being a ‘brother-in-law’ give him the right to insult my dead parents?” I took a step toward her. “And let’s be clear, Sophie. You aren’t my sister. To me, you’re just a stranger I used to know.” Sophie flinched. “If Bennett said something to upset you, I’m sorry. I apologize for him.” Her voice hardened. “But you used violence. You owe him an apology. Now.” I felt that old, familiar ache in my chest. If she had stood up for me seven years ago the way she was standing up for this man now, my life would be entirely different. “Never,” I said. Sophie’s face fell. “Silas, what happened to you? You’ve become so… bitter.” She grabbed my wrist, her grip tight. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you. Apologize to Bennett.” She was holding me so tightly that if I pulled away, I’d send her sprawling. I didn’t want to hurt her—it was a lingering instinct I hated. But then, a slender, pale hand reached from behind me and firmly gripped Sophie’s wrist, forcing her to let go. Then I heard the one voice that always made the world feel steady again. “I think your fiancé is the one who needs to apologize.”

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We plunged into a Cursed-tier instance, a death trap, the system blaring warnings: “All player survival rates immediately reduced to zero!” My teammates shrieked, scattering in terror as malevolent spirits hunted them down. Only I found myself cornered by the unspeakable instance BOSS. Icy tentacles coiled around my ankles, and in my ears, the system’s alarms went haywire, glitching and breaking: [Warning! BOSS detected with abnormal emotional fluctuations! Warning! BOSS is… attempting to court the player?!] My blood ran cold. So, I looked at the creature before me, reeking of blood. Trembling… I kissed him. 1. The moment my eyes opened, a bone-chilling cold crawled up my spine. Even though I was wrapped up like a mummy, that icy dread pierced my bones like needles. My name is Elara Zahn, a frail individual suffering from “hyperalgesia” and “extreme cold sensitivity.” In this deadly infinite game, players with an F-rating for physical fitness like me are usually labeled “disposable consumables.” “Rookie?” a gruff voice boomed beside me. “Stop playing dead. Get up and work.” The speaker was a man with a scarred face, known as Randal. He was a veteran player, holding a blood-stained machete, looking at me as if I were already dead. This was a Chinese horror instance called Spirit Wedding. White lanterns hung everywhere in the courtyard, and crimson wedding characters adorned a coffin. The wind scattered paper money through the air. The system’s task was simple: survive three days as a guest and attend the final wedding. “This instance is a B-rank difficulty. You’ll live as long as you don’t do anything stupid.” Randal pointed to the tightly shut East Wing in the distance. “But someone has to scout ahead. Hey, you, the sickly one. You go.” I coughed twice, my face pale. “That’s forbidden territory.” The rules clearly stated the East Wing was the bridal chamber, off-limits to guests. Randal sneered, abruptly shoving me. “Just go when I tell you! In this team, a useless person needs to know their place. Either you go scout, or I’ll cut you down right now.” I stumbled a few steps, pushing open the rickety wooden door of the East Wing. Behind me, Randal and the other players jeered. Then, with a bang, the door locked itself behind me. 2. Inside, there was no musty smell as I’d expected. Instead, a strong scent of blood permeated the air. A grand, intricately carved bed stood in the center, its red canopy hanging low. Before I could even observe my surroundings, my heart clenched. Cold. Ten times colder than outside. My constitution made me extremely sensitive to temperature. This cold wasn’t just a drop in temperature; it was the precursor to a terrifying presence. My health bar began to deplete at a visible rate. [Health -10… -10…] If I didn’t find a heat source soon, I’d freeze to death before any ghost could kill me. “Creak—” The red canopy by the bed suddenly swayed open. A tall figure stood there, unnoticed until now. He was dressed in an elaborate, dark red wedding robe, wearing a grotesque bronze mask that left his pale jaw exposed. It was the BOSS. The Ghost Groom had appeared early, before the wedding night. The powerful sense of oppression made my knees weak, but I didn’t kneel. My instinct for survival made me stare intently at him. In my vision, he wasn’t a vengeful spirit claiming lives, but the only “heat source” in this ice-cold room. He raised his hand, his sharp, black fingernails pointing directly at my heart. Too fast. I couldn’t dodge. 3. A death trap. The instant his fingertips brushed the fabric over my chest, the cold nearly froze my blood. Perhaps I was insane. In the second before death arrived, instead of retreating, I threw myself forward with all my might. “Thud.” The sound of claws tearing skin didn’t come. I collided with a hard, cold embrace. Although cold, it was a surging power. The Ghost Groom seemed not to have expected my embrace, his movements stiffening for a moment. In that instant, I seized my chance. My hands trembling, I clung to his shoulders, tilting my head back. Along the lower edge of his cold bronze mask, I accurately found his lips. The moment my lips met his, it was like kissing a millennia-old block of ice. But I felt it. That violent, malevolent energy that had been poised to tear me apart suddenly halted. “Save me…” My voice, pressed against his lips, was as soft as a cat’s mew, laced with the tremulousness born of pain. “So cold…” This was a gamble. My unique constitution: a “divine lure.” In the real world, even stray dogs would inexplicably follow me home. If this ability worked on monsters, too… The system panel flashed wildly with red light. [Warning! BOSS logic detected as confused!] [Warning! Hatred value judgment failed…] [Warning! Affection system forcibly initiated…] 4. Time seemed to stand still. My waist suddenly tightened. It wasn’t a human arm, but something slick and tough, like a shadow. It squeezed my waist relentlessly, with such force it felt like he was trying to meld me into his own body. Pain. But I endured. I even softened my body obediently, burying my face in the crook of his neck. A sigh of satisfaction echoed above my head. It was the pleasure of a beast before a meal. “Found you…” a hoarse, low voice rumbled. The next second, the world spun. I was thrown onto the soft, grand bed. But the anticipated tearing and biting didn’t happen. Instead, a black mist gently enveloped me. The biting cold disappeared, replaced by a warm, cozy comfort. After an unknown period, the door opened. I adjusted my disheveled collar and pushed the door open to step out. Outside, Randal was leading his group, ready to collect my body and loot me. Seeing me emerge perfectly intact, he dropped the cigarette he was holding, startled. “You… you’re not dead?” Randal’s eyes widened, as if he’d seen a ghost. I ignored him, simply opening my palm. There lay a blood-red jade pendant, engraved with an ancient character for malevolence. The Ghost Groom had slipped it to me just now. Or rather, it was his “mark” left on me. 5. After emerging from the East Wing, the instance took a strange turn. The wandering spirits and specters that had been drifting in the courtyard now, upon seeing me, all cowered terrified against the walls, trembling. Wherever I walked, a path opened up automatically, as if Moses were parting the Red Sea. My body also felt off. The back of my neck always felt chilly, as if something was constantly wrapped around it. Even when I looked in the mirror, I could only see a pale patch of skin with a red bruise, like a hickey, or some kind of totem. The coldness of the jade pendant in my palm seeped into my bones, yet I felt a strange sense of… safety? This realization sent a jolt through my stomach. I had just kissed a monster, using an almost bewitching method to survive. Even more terrifying, I had, in that moment, tasted the power of control. I was using him. What about him? Was he truly momentarily confused, or was he playing along, enjoying the willing sacrifice of his prey? This thought plunged me into an ice-cold abyss, yet I also felt a faint thrill. This was a gamble, dancing with a devil. And I, it seemed, was born to stand at the center of the dance floor. By the second night, Randal finally couldn’t sit still any longer. He stared at the jade pendant in my hand, his greed overcoming his fear. “This kid must have made a deal with a ghost!” Randal incited the other players. “He’s radiating so much sinister energy; he might already be possessed.” “According to the rules, we must guard against ghosts, but also against ‘traitors’!” The other rookie players, already terrified, echoed his sentiment. “So what do we do?” “A vote.” Randal grinned sinisterly. “The system has a hidden mechanism: if more than half of the players vote someone to be an anomaly, they can summon a ‘Ghost Catcher’ to execute them.” 6. The vote took place in the ancestral hall. Five people, four votes cast against me. “Elara, don’t blame me for being ruthless,” Randal said, holding the ballot, his face radiating self-righteousness. “For everyone to survive, you must be sacrificed.” Randal stared at the increasingly prominent red mark on my neck, an unconcealable fear deep in his eyes. He had been through too many instances; he knew that those marked by a BOSS either became puppets or attracted an even more terrifying catastrophe. He didn’t want to gamble. Randal’s voice rose, both to persuade others and himself. “Voting to eliminate you isn’t to harm someone; it’s for purification!” “For all of us to live cleanly!” See? Once malice dons the cloak of “the greater good” and “purification,” it becomes self-justifying. As the vote took effect, the temperature in the ancestral hall plummeted. A three-meter tall Ghost Catcher, with a green face and tusks, emerged, dragging a soul-chain. It was an enforcer of the rules, an invincible NPC. Randal retreated triumphantly, waiting to see my soul dragged away by the soul-chain. I stood my ground, unmoving. I even felt a little like laughing. The Ghost Catcher menacingly charged towards me, raising its soul-chain. However, just as the iron chain was about to touch me, it stopped. Its murky eyes stared intently behind me, as if seeing something utterly terrifying. Its massive body began to tremble violently. “Clang.” The soul-chain dropped to the ground. 7. “What’s going on? Move!” Randal shouted, agitated. Behind me, there was no light, but my shadow, cast by the candlelight, stretched incredibly long. The shadow writhed, rising from the ground, transforming into a massive, indescribable black mist. From within the black mist, several inky tendrils slowly extended, resting on the Ghost Catcher’s shoulders. There was no sound. The once arrogant Ghost Catcher, as if erased by an eraser, was instantly swallowed by the black mist, without even a scream. A deathly silence fell over the ancestral hall. The black mist dissipated, and no monster appeared. But I felt it. The unseen presence stood directly behind me, its cold chin resting lightly on my shoulder, as if declaring its ownership to everyone. I bent down, picked up the soul-chain from the ground, and looked at Randal, who had collapsed onto the floor. A faint flush colored my pale face from the excitement. I smiled, my voice gentle. “It seems he listens to me more than to your so-called rules.” 8. After that night, no one dared to speak to me again. I was assigned the best room to rest in. Deep into the quiet night, I lay on the bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Because I knew, the “bill” was due. The window wasn’t closed, yet the candle in the room suddenly extinguished. In the darkness, that familiar, clammy, cold sensation once again wrapped around my ankle. It was invisible, yet tangible. Unlike its protective presence during the day, it was now filled with aggression. It was the greed to utterly consume its prey. Unseen tentacles coiled around my wrists, pinning me against the headboard. “Today… I was very obedient.” In the darkness, that hoarse voice spoke again. This time it was beside my ear, carrying a moist breath. “I helped you.” Due to my sensitive skin, even slight pressure would leave red marks. My wrists were already beginning to throb faintly. “So?” I asked softly, trying not to tremble. “I want… payment.” The words had barely left his lips when a cold sensation covered me. It wasn’t a conventional kiss; it was more like tasting. It was inspecting every inch of my skin, checking if I carried anyone else’s scent. The shivering sensation of being completely controlled by a non-human entity almost suffocated me. I knew this instance was no longer just a survival game. I had provoked a madman. A malevolent deity who treated a horror game like a dating simulation.

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Three years after severing all ties with my parents, they sued me in court. They demanded I pay them alimony for the next thirty years. They weren’t suing me because they needed the money. They just wanted to give their adopted daughter, who had just started at my mother’s law firm, a high-profile case to make a name for herself. They knew I was in poor health. Because my father, a hospital director, had personally removed my right kidney and transplanted it into their adopted daughter. Shutterstock Khám phá They knew my reputation was ruined. Because my mother, a prominent lawyer, had set me up to take the fall for their adopted daughter and sent me to prison. But they still did it. Because one wanted to avoid the appearance of nepotism, and the other wanted to repay a life debt. In the end, the court ordered me to immediately pay three hundred thousand dollars. Exactly the amount I had managed to save up for my own life-saving surgery. Outside the courthouse, my parents lifted their chins and said: “Daughter, as long as you live in this world, don’t even think about escaping your parents.” I thought they were absolutely right. So, when the System appeared, told me I had terminal kidney cancer and no money for treatment, and asked if I wanted to transmigrate to another world… I agreed immediately. When the System first appeared, I was desperately working to save money for a kidney transplant. I hauled bricks at a construction site during the day, worked the assembly line at night, and delivered food on weekends. It was grueling, but the money added up fast. So, I refused to leave. I chose to stay in this world, because I still had hope, and I still had attachments. But right after I finally saved enough money and was preparing to travel out of state for the transplant, the police dragged me to court. Now, the kidney donor was gone, and the money was gone. My attachments had personally destroyed my hope. The freezing wind outside the courthouse hit me. I shivered and asked the System through chattering teeth: “Is your offer still valid? As long as my physical body dies, I can go to another world?” Upon receiving confirmation, I started looking around for an opportunity. Just then, a warm thermos brushed against my hand. “Drink some.” I didn’t answer. I tried to step around her and leave. My mother grabbed my wrist tightly. I looked down at her pale, gripping fingers. It was strange. The embrace I used to crave so deeply now just felt like a foreign object clinging to my skin. It made my skin crawl. “Let go,” I said. She didn’t let go. Instead, she took a step closer. “I said, let go.” I used a little force and yanked my hand back. Then, I wiped the spot she had touched against her expensive cashmere coat. She froze, looking as if she couldn’t believe I would do something so blatantly disrespectful. Just as I was about to leave, a burst of laughter came from a short distance away. I looked up. My father was smiling, holding his adopted daughter, Chloe’s, hand as they got into a car. He didn’t even glance in my direction. Chloe was holding the lid to the thermos. I looked down. Sure enough, the thermos had Chloe’s name engraved on it. She was using someone else’s leftover tea to offer me cheap charity. I slapped the thermos out of her hand, sending it clattering to the pavement. Actually, when the verdict was read, I had wanted to scream at them: “I have terminal kidney cancer! That three hundred thousand dollars is my life-saving surgery fund!” I wanted to see if they would show even a sliver of remorse. But before I could approach them, the wind carried their conversation to me. “…This three hundred thousand is perfect. Isn’t this exactly the amount Liam asked for the dowry?” “Don’t worry, Chloe. Mom and Dad will definitely make sure you have a grand, beautiful wedding with Liam.” Liam. That name stabbed into my heart like a knife. He was my boyfriend. I had loved him for ten years. And my sister was using my life-saving surgery fund as a dowry to marry him. The words died in my throat, swallowed down along with the metallic taste of blood. Now, I was glad I hadn’t asked. It was laughable. Why did I even have that impulse in the first place? Staring at the dented thermos on the ground, my mother’s jaw tightened. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?” “Come home with me. You’ve run wild for three years, it’s time to settle down.” I looked at her. Once upon a time, that expression and that tone of voice would send chills down my spine and force me into immediate submission. Now, she just sounded like a villain delivering a cheesy line in a soap opera. I even let out a soft laugh: “Mom, aren’t you afraid Chloe will get jealous if you show me so much concern?” “The last time you ‘showed concern’ about my bar exam, she got jealous, went drag racing, and killed someone. You two dragged me to the scene and made me take the fall.” “What do you need me to take the fall for this time?” Since I was a child, she had favored Chloe countless times. Simply because Chloe’s parents died saving her life. But I never expected she would actually send me to prison to protect Chloe. She avoided my gaze, her lips moving slightly: “The past is in the past… don’t bring it up.” “You know her parents saved my life…” “Come home. I’ll cook for you myself to make it up to you.” My eyes turned entirely cold. I stared directly into hers: “I wouldn’t dare eat your cooking.” “The last time I did, I woke up missing my right kidney.” She swayed slightly and instinctively reached out to grab me again. I stepped back rapidly. The day I was released from prison, I was still completely in the dark. I had no idea it was my own parents who got me drunk and dumped me at the scene of the accident to take the fall. She specifically cooked a huge meal, saying it was to welcome me home. Back then, I was so stupid and so desperate. I thought I was finally going to feel the warmth of my family again. I took the bowl of soup she handed me and drank it, moved to tears. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed with agonizing pain in my abdomen. My right kidney was gone. Through the wall from the VIP suite next door, I heard them laughing. My father was constantly comforting Chloe: “Don’t worry about the legality of the organ source. I already forged a voluntary donation consent form.” “Outsiders will only be moved. They’ll say I’m such a selfless hospital director that I’m willing to sacrifice my own biological daughter’s kidney to save my adopted one.” I wanted to rush over and confront them, but the pain was so severe I rolled off the bed and curled up on the floor. My mother came out of the adjacent room and saw me. Her footsteps paused for exactly one second. Then, with a complicated expression, she averted her eyes and walked away. So why, standing in front of me now, was she refusing to let me go? “Maya, Chloe was dying back then…” “Enough!” I was so sick of this excuse. Every time they sacrificed me, it was always the same logic: “We had no choice,” “She’s more pitiful.” I stopped looking at her and asked the System in my mind: “System, if I go to another world, will I have parents who actually love me?” Receiving a positive confirmation, I walked quickly toward the busy road outside the courthouse. My mother took a step forward and grabbed my arm: “Maya! What are you acting out for now?!” I violently shook her off. And without hesitation, I lunged toward an oncoming delivery truck. “MAYA!!!” I ran with all my might, closing my eyes and anticipating my new life. Amidst the screeching of tires, a powerful force yanked me backward. I crashed into someone’s chest. Then I was pinned hard against the asphalt. I opened my eyes. The truck had stopped exactly where I had been standing a second ago. I didn’t die. Frustration surged in my chest. My mother’s arms were locked around me, frantically patting me down: “Maya! Are you okay?! Did you get hurt?! Say something!” I lay limp on the ground, refusing to utter a single word. She suddenly grabbed me by the collar of my shirt: “Maya! What the hell were you trying to do?!” Her voice was shrill, a mix of terror and pure fury: “Using suicide to threaten your parents? Do you think this will chase Chloe away and get you what you want?” “Let me tell you right now, it’s impossible!” Looking at her flushed, agitated face, I just felt exhausted. In her eyes, everything I did was a calculated move to compete with Chloe. I couldn’t be bothered to explain. I reached up and pried her fingers off my collar. “Let go.” “Look at me!” She shoved her bleeding elbow directly into my line of sight, her voice trembling. “I got hurt like this trying to save you! Do you feel absolutely nothing?!” “Maya, do you even have a heart?” Ah, emotional blackmail again. This used to be her favorite tactic. She would constantly remind me how hard she worked, how difficult it was to fight her way up in a male-dominated field. And I would always soften and obey. I would swallow all my grievances and silently accept their blatant favoritism toward Chloe. But now, looking at her bleeding elbow, my heart was a barren wasteland. I even swatted her hand away in disgust: “Your blood is getting on my clothes.” She froze, looking at me with profound hurt. I couldn’t help but scoff. What did she have to be hurt about? All those years, when she turned a blind eye to the agony she inflicted on me, where was her heart? Now that I was simply treating her the way she treated me, she suddenly couldn’t handle it? I shook her off and stood up. I brushed off the collar she had grabbed. “Don’t follow me. We have nothing to do with each other anymore.” “Nothing to do with each other?!” She staggered to her feet: “Maya! I am your mother!” I stopped walking and smirked: “Didn’t you publicly sever all ties with me a long time ago?” “What, did the great lawyer forget?” It was at the banquet celebrating Chloe’s successful kidney transplant. Chloe had had too much to drink. She walked over with her wine glass to “thank” me. In her drunken rambling, she let it slip that after the fatal car crash years ago, it was my mother who had gotten me drunk and dumped me at the scene to take the fall. I served five years in prison. An elite law student who graduated top of my class at Yale, reduced to a convicted felon. I had broken down and confronted my mother right then and there. Without batting an eye, she told the entire banquet hall that my time in prison had caused me to develop severe mental issues. In that moment, every ounce of suppressed grievance and rage I had carried my entire life detonated. I flipped the table and screamed at the top of my lungs about how she had favored Chloe since childhood, and how she had constantly sacrificed me. Humiliated in front of everyone, she pointed a shaking finger at me and said with absolute ice in her voice: “Fine! Since you hate me so much, I’ll pretend I never gave birth to you!” “From this day forward, whether you live or die has absolutely nothing to do with this family!” She was the one who said those exact words. I looked at her angry face now and said, word by word: “Since you severed ties, what right do you have to care if I live or die?” With that, I turned to leave. After a long silence, her voice rang out again: “No matter what you say, you are my only biological daughter! You are the heiress of the Sterling family!” “Am I?” I sneered. She flinched. As if she suddenly remembered that the official, recognized heiress of the Sterling family was Chloe. She was the one who personally brought Chloe into her law firm and publicly cemented her status. While I, the biological daughter, was just a disgraced ex-con. My laughter grew louder, but tears rolled down my cheeks without warning. I used to not be able to understand it. How did the parents who used to hold me on their laps to teach me how to read, the parents who were so proud of me, turn into strangers who desperately favored an outsider? After countless sleepless nights, I finally figured it out: One was an obsessive fanatic, weaponizing the law to force the entire family to repay a life debt. The other was a hypocritical narcissist, willing to sacrifice anything to protect his reputation as a noble hospital director. In the face of “gratitude” and “reputation,” I was always dead last. Without another word, she forcefully dragged me toward a taxi, keeping her head down: “Maya, stop causing a scene. Today is Chloe and Liam’s wedding. Come with me.” “Once Chloe is married, my debt is fully repaid. Then I’ll make everything up to you.” I had heard those words my entire life. “Once your sister’s competition is over, Mom will take you to the amusement park.” “Once Chloe gets into college, Mom will definitely make it up to you.” Every promise was like a soap bubble—popping the second you touched it. I wanted to break free, but a sudden spike of cancer pain hit my kidney. I lost all my strength and was shoved into the back of the taxi. The car smelled like blood. Her arm was continuously bleeding, and cold sweat beaded on her forehead. But she maintained a death grip on my wrist, terrified I would run again. “Let go.” My voice was entirely devoid of emotion. Instead of letting go, she gripped tighter, her nails practically digging into my flesh. “Maya, there’s no need to compete with Chloe… Didn’t you always want to be a lawyer? You can join my firm.” I smirked, a completely humorless smile curling my lips: “What about Chloe? Didn’t she already join your firm?” Her grip loosened for a fraction of a second: “Chloe… she’s called me Mom for so many years… the firm… will definitely be handed over to her eventually.” She paused, lowering her voice: “…You have a criminal record. You can’t practice law independently.” “You can work under Chloe as her paralegal. You’ll still have access to all the firm’s resources.” “If you sisters work together, the family business will be secure. It’s time for you to be mature about this.” I leaned against the window, waves of agonizing pain radiating from my kidney. But even sharper than the pain was the sickening absurdity of it all. They used my kidney to save Chloe. They used my future to cover up her crimes. And now, they wanted to use the rest of my life as a stepping stone for her career. In her dreams! I reached forward and violently yanked the emergency handbrake! “Maya! Are you insane?!” The tires locked instantly. Like a wild horse, the taxi spun out of control, fishtailing across the lanes! With a deafening CRASH, we slammed into the concrete median. A violent shockwave ripped through my body, and the world spun. I had intentionally unbuckled my seatbelt, waiting for death. But the deploying airbags absorbed most of the impact. After the initial dizziness faded, I was still fully conscious. I immediately reached for the door handle. Outside was a stream of speeding cars. I still had a chance! “Maya!!” My mother lunged across the backseat and locked her arms around me. “Do you hate me that much?!” Her eyes were bloodshot, her voice hoarse. “Hate me enough… to drag me down to hell with you?!” I offered a dismissive half-smile: “Hate? Not worth the energy.” “I just want to take a different path.” “If you insist on following me, you bear the consequences.” In an instant, the last remaining color drained from her face. But she still held onto me with a death grip, half-dragging, half-carrying me out of the wrecked car and into another passing taxi. We arrived at the wedding venue. My mother took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. Under the crystal chandeliers, my father was patting Chloe on the shoulder, smiling with immense pride. It was a look I had never, ever received from him. Chloe bowed slightly, the picture of humility. Liam stood beside her in a sharp tuxedo, looking at her tenderly, reaching down to adjust the train of her dress. The three of them stood together—a picture of absolute harmony and success. With Liam’s adoration, my parents’ unwavering backing, and me acting as her stepping stone, Chloe truly was the ultimate winner in life. Before anyone could see, I hastily wiped away my tears. Chloe was the first to notice us. Seeing the injuries on my mother’s face and arm, she rushed over: “Mom! What happened?!” She supported my mother, carefully avoiding the wounds, before shooting me an icy glare: “Did Maya do something to you again?! Did she—” “Chloe!” my mother interrupted sharply. “It has nothing to do with her! I fell.” She caught her breath: “You’re a lawyer. You need evidence before you speak. You can’t just falsely accuse people.” A flash of embarrassment crossed Chloe’s face. I also gave my mother a surprised look. The woman who spearheaded fabricating evidence to frame me was actually lecturing someone about false accusations. Liam walked over and linked arms with Chloe, his voice gentle: “Chloe was just worried about you, Mom. Please don’t blame her.” He looked at me. His tone remained light, but every word was a calculated stab: “Some people are miserable in their own lives, so they can’t stand seeing others happy. They always want to cause chaos in the family.” “Compared to Chloe… some people are just trash in the gutter.” His handsome features were exactly the same as they were ten years ago. Back then, he was huddled under a bridge, like a pathetic stray cat, his eyes the only thing burning bright. I brought him home, enduring months of my mother screaming at me: “You bring every dirty, smelly stray into this house!” To pay for his schooling, I skipped breakfast and snuck off to haul bricks at construction sites. I didn’t even dare tell anyone when my arm was slashed open by rebar. I saved up for months to buy a pair of plain silver rings. I slipped the smaller one onto his finger and told him I would marry him when I made something of myself. He nodded emphatically, his eyes shining like stars. During my two years in prison, he came to visit me rain or shine, telling me he would wait for me. He was the only light left in my world. But the day my mother publicly severed ties with me, I received a text from him: “We’re breaking up. The baby is gone.” And just like that, he took his place beside Chloe. Using the most contemptuous words imaginable to grind me into the dirt. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. Smack! The surrounding area instantly went quiet. Liam covered his cheek, his eyes wide in disbelief: “You dare hit me?” I shook out my stinging hand: “You had a filthy mouth. You deserved to be hit.” He had never seen me act like this. Stunned, he covered his face and looked at Chloe, not daring to say another word. “Maya!” Chloe stepped forward, pointing her finger in my face. “Are you done?! Do you know where you are? How dare you hit someone here?! Apologize!” I saw it then. On the hand she was pointing at me was the plain silver ring that was supposed to be mine. Years of suppressed rage obliterated my remaining reason. I drove my fist directly into her face. I was going to smash her hypocritical mask! Caught completely off guard, Chloe stumbled backward, crashing into the champagne tower. Glass shattered everywhere. Before I could even process the satisfaction of revenge, blinding pain exploded across the side of my face. My father had punched me to the floor. Spittle flew from his mouth as he roared: “You ungrateful wretch! Look at yourself! You’re an absolute disgrace! Is fighting the only thing you know how to do?!” He pointed down at me, his face twisted in utter disgust: “Look at you, looking like you’re half-dead! You’re a walking curse!”

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I was my mother’s little “feeding doll.” Whenever my younger sister refused to eat, my mom would put a freshly cooked meatball in my bowl. Once my sister started craving it, the meatball would be snatched away and fed to her instead. My mom always said, “Your sister is delicate. You’re the older sister, you need to be sensible.” The year I turned eight, it was the last meatball again. My mom smiled and brought it to my lips. For some reason, as if possessed, I swallowed it whole. My mom slapped me hard across the face, knocking me out of my chair. “You act like a starving ghost! That was for your sister!” The back of my head slammed heavily against the corner of the table, and the world instantly went black. When I opened my eyes, I saw my mom holding my sister, speaking to her softly. “Don’t cry. Your sister is bad, Mom will punish her.” She didn’t even glance at me lying on the floor. She just carried my sister out the door. “Kneel there and reflect on what you did. You can get up when you admit you were wrong.” Slam. The door closed. I stood up from the floor, wanting to tell her I was wrong. But when I looked down, I saw that I was still kneeling there on the floor. Mom, this time, I really won’t steal my sister’s meatball ever again. … The smell of braised pork was so rich it almost smelled bitter. I was kneeling on a dining chair, gripping the edge of the table. My stomach started growling again. Grrr— My sister, Lily, frowned and pushed her bowl away. “I’m not eating! The fat is disgusting!” The bowl clattered against the table, spilling a few grains of rice. My mom wasn’t angry. She patiently picked up the spilled rice and put it back in the bowl. “This is organic pork from Grandma’s farm. It’s delicious.” “I don’t want it!” Lily started kicking her legs. My mom sighed and turned her attention to me. “Chloe.” She picked up the last, largest braised meatball. The sauce dripped from the meatball onto the white rice. “This meatball smells so good. Does Chloe want it?” I nodded frantically, my mouth instantly filling with saliva. I hadn’t had a proper meal in two days. Yesterday’s leftover noodles were thrown in the trash because my mom said overnight food wasn’t healthy. But I could have eaten them. I wanted to say I didn’t care if it wasn’t healthy. “You want it?” My mom brought the meatball to my lips, the hot steam hitting the tip of my nose. “Smells great, want a bite?” She was coaxing me, but her eyes darted toward Lily. Lily stopped kicking and stared intently at the meatball. It was hers. I knew it was hers. I knew the routine perfectly. I was supposed to open my mouth and pretend to take a bite. Then my mom would flick her wrist and pop the meatball into Lily’s mouth. Lily would chew triumphantly and make faces at me. I would swallow my saliva and watch her finish it. This time was supposed to be the same. I opened my mouth, and the meatball touched my lips. It smelled so good. It really smelled so good. Before my brain could react, my teeth had already closed down. Chomp. A huge bite. I pulled the entire meatball into my mouth. I didn’t chew; I just swallowed it straight down. The scalding hot meatball slid down my esophagus, burning my chest. But I didn’t feel the pain. I just felt the hand that had been clawing at my stomach for two days finally let go. Lily was stunned. My mom was stunned too. The next second, a piercing scream shattered my eardrums. “WAAAAAH—!” Lily swept her bowl onto the floor, shattering the porcelain into pieces. “She ate my meat! That was mine!” My mom’s face instantly twisted in rage. Smack! My cheek burned, and my ears rang. The taste of meat lingered in my mouth, now mixed with the metallic tang of blood. “Are you a starving ghost reincarnated?!” my mom screamed, pointing at my nose. “That was to stimulate your sister’s appetite! Who told you to actually eat it?!” “Spit it out!” She reached out and dug her fingers into my mouth, her nails scratching my gums. But the meatball was already in my stomach. I couldn’t spit it out. Lily cried even louder, rolling on the floor. “I don’t want to live! My sister stole my food! I want KFC!” My mom was heartbroken. She pulled her fingers out of my mouth and turned to pick Lily up. As she turned, she saw me still sitting on the chair, looking dazed. With nowhere to vent her anger, she shoved me violently. “Get out of here! I’m sick of looking at you!” I was very light. I flew backward off the chair. Thud! A dull thud sounded as the back of my head struck the sharp corner of the solid wood dining table. Everything in front of me started to go dark. My mom’s furious face, Lily’s wide-open mouth, and the broken porcelain bowl on the floor. I slid down limply, my knees hitting the floor, my upper body slumped over, my head hanging low. Like I was apologizing. In the last second before I lost consciousness, my only thought was: That meatball was really delicious. 2 “Stop playing dead.” My mom’s voice came from very far away. “Every time you do something wrong, you pull this dead-weight act. Who is it for?” I opened my eyes and found myself standing next to the dining table. Weird, didn’t I fall? I looked down, and there was another person on the floor. Wearing my ill-fitting, faded, washed-out school uniform. Kneeling on the floor, head almost touching the ground. Was that… me? I reached out to touch the me on the floor, but my hand passed right through. Am I dead? When that thought popped up, I surprisingly wasn’t very scared. Instead, I felt a sense of relief. No more starving. No more walking on eggshells. My mom was comforting Lily. “Be a good girl, sweetheart. If you cry until your eyes are swollen, you won’t be pretty anymore.” “Your sister is bad, Mom will punish her.” “Dad will be home soon. Let’s have him take us to KFC.” Lily sniffled, pointing at me on the floor. “Why isn’t she moving?” My mom sneered. “Too ashamed to show her face. Stealing food, shameless.” “Let her kneel. She can get up when she realizes she was wrong!” The door opened, and my dad walked in carrying his briefcase. “What’s going on? I could hear the crying from the hallway.” Lily threw herself into my dad’s arms. “My sister stole my meatball!” “Mom hit her, and now she’s just lying on the floor refusing to get up!” My dad frowned, glancing at me on the floor with impatience. “Is that it? Why make such a big deal out of it?” He walked over and nudged my calf with the toe of his shoe. “Get up. Stop embarrassing yourself!” I didn’t move. My dad thought I was being stubborn and loosened his tie. “Fine, developing a temper, are we?” “If you don’t want to get up, then keep kneeling. No dinner for you tonight.” “Come on, let’s go get KFC.” Lily smiled through her tears. “I want a bucket, and I want ice cream too!” “Alright, whatever you want.” The family of three put on their shoes and headed out. Slam! The security door closed, and the apartment fell silent, except for the ticking of the wall clock. Tick, tock, tick, tock. I floated in mid-air, looking at myself on the floor. The posture was awkward. The angle of my bent neck was too sharp. A tiny bit of blood oozed from the hair at the back of my head. Not much. It was hidden by my hair and ran down into my collar. No wonder they didn’t see it. It was getting dark. The lights were off. My stomach wasn’t growling anymore, but I still felt hungry. I wanted KFC too. I had never had it. Every time they went, they locked me in the apartment and left me two steamed buns. When Lily came back, she’d have ketchup on the corner of her mouth and intentionally breathe in my face. “Sister, the fried chicken smells so good. Too bad you can’t have any.” I floated over to the dining table. The bowl of white rice that had been knocked over was still there, along with a few drops of meat broth on the table. I leaned over the table, trying desperately to smell it. But I couldn’t smell anything. I was dead. I didn’t even have the right to smell things anymore. At 11 PM, the lock clicked, and they came back. Lily held a red balloon in one hand and a half-eaten egg tart in the other. “Mom, I’m sleepy.” “Take a bath before bed, you’re all greasy.” My mom took off her shoes and turned on the living room light. The light was blinding. I instinctively shielded my eyes. The me on the floor was still in the same position. My mom glanced over and paused for a second. “Still kneeling?” She let out a scoff. “Such a stubborn temper. I wonder who she gets it from.” My dad yawned. As he walked past the dining room to the bathroom, his pant leg brushed against my shoulder. I swayed slightly, then steadied. My dad stopped and looked back. “Chloe, that’s enough.” “You have school tomorrow. Go wash up and go to sleep.” I ignored him, and my dad got angry. “Can’t you hear me talking to you? Are you mute?” He reached out to grab me. 3 My mom’s voice came from the bathroom. “Don’t pay attention to her. It’s a bad habit we’ve spoiled her into. Let her kneel. Let’s see how long she can keep it up!” My dad’s hand stopped in mid-air, then withdrew. Grumbling, he went into the bathroom. Then came the sounds of washing up and laughter. Lily splashing water in the bathtub, my mom scrubbing her back, my dad watching TV in the bedroom. How heartwarming. Except for the corpse kneeling on the floor in the corner of the dining room. It was late. The lights went out one by one. The master bedroom door closed. I floated to the crack in the door and peeked inside. Lily slept in the middle, my parents on either side, tucked snugly under the comforter. Lily still clutched that balloon in her hand. I floated back to the dining room and sat on my own back. It was so cold. The body on the floor had completely cooled, and the joints were beginning to stiffen. I just sat there, keeping myself company. At 3 AM, my mom came out for a glass of water. Wearing her pajamas, she groggily walked into the dining room. In the moonlight, my dark silhouette kneeling there looked like a monster. My mom paused mid-sip. She stared at me for a moment, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. She set down her glass and took a step forward. “Chloe?” She called out hesitantly, her voice very quiet. I floated right in front of her face and yelled: “Mom, I’m dead! Look at me!” My mom couldn’t hear me. She just pulled her pajamas tighter and shivered. “Crazy,” she muttered. “Trying to scare people in the middle of the night.” She turned and went back to the bedroom, closing the door firmly. In that moment, I completely gave up hope. At 6 AM, my mom was the first to wake up. Wearing an apron, she hummed a tune as she walked into the kitchen. Walking past the dining room, she didn’t even spare the me on the floor a single glance. The smell of frying eggs and the sweet aroma of warm milk wafted from the kitchen. Lily woke up. Wearing her little bunny pajamas, she walked out rubbing her eyes. “Mom, I want sweet milk.” “Okay, Mom will get it for you.” Walking past the dining room, Lily saw me. She ran over and hugged my neck from behind. “Sister, stop sleeping.” “I want to ride the horsey. Get up and be my horsey!” She shook my body vigorously. If it were before, I would obediently get down on all fours and let her ride on my back. Even if the floor dug painfully into my knees, I had to smile and whinny like a horse. Because my mom said that’s what an older sister is supposed to do. But today, I didn’t move. Lily got upset. She let go and gave me a hard shove. “Are you going to get up or not? If you don’t get up, I’ll tell Mom to hit you!” That shove broke the delicate balance. The already stiff corpse, maintaining its kneeling posture, fell rigidly sideways. BANG! A loud crash. Louder than the sound of hitting the table yesterday. I fell to the floor, arms and legs still bent, frozen in a kneeling bow. That face was finally revealed. Pale, tinged with blue. Eyes half-open, pupils already dilated, staring blankly at the ceiling. A bit of dried sauce lingered at the corner of my mouth. The last trace left by that meatball. Lily was terrified. She reached out to grab my hand. “AH!” She screamed and yanked her hand back. “Mom! Mom!” “Sister turned into an ice cube! She’s so cold!” My mom, who was frying an egg, jolted. The spatula dropped to the floor. She rushed out. “What is it? Why are you screaming so early?” She saw me lying on the floor. That grotesque posture. “Chloe?” she called out, her voice trembling. “Stop pretending. The floor is cold.” “Hurry up and get up. Mom is frying an egg for you.” It was the first time she had ever offered to fry an egg for me. Unfortunately, it was too late. My mom got closer. She crouched down and reached out to push my shoulder. Her hand met freezing cold flesh. 4 My mom’s pupils instantly dilated. “AH!” My dad, still asleep, was so startled he rolled off the bed. He rushed out, pulling up his pants, not even fully dressed. “What’s wrong? Is there a fire?” He saw my mom slumped on the floor, and me lying beside her in that bizarre posture, and his face instantly turned white. He rushed over, his trembling hand reaching for my nose. No breath. He checked my neck. No pulse. “She’s dead…” My dad fell heavily onto the floor, a wet spot instantly spreading across his pants. “How could she be dead? She was perfectly fine yesterday.” My mom seemed to suddenly snap awake. She threw herself at me, shaking my body frantically. “Chloe, wake up! Don’t scare Mom.” “Mom won’t punish you anymore. Mom will take you to KFC.” “Get up! Spit out the meatball, okay? I won’t blame you.” She cried, snot and tears smearing all over her face. But I just stared at her coldly. The ambulance arrived, and so did police cars, red and blue lights flashing against the windows. Neighbors crowded around the door, peering inside. “What happened? I heard a kid died.” “Oh, what a sin. I heard them beating the kid yesterday.” “Those parents are so biased. They were so cruel to the older girl.” My mom heard them. She snapped her head up and roared at the door: “What are you looking at? Get lost!” “My daughter just fell down! Doctor, quickly, save her!” A few people in white coats walked in. They took one look at the body on the floor and shook their heads. “Lividity has already set in. She’s been dead for at least twelve hours.” My mom lunged like a madwoman, grabbing the doctor’s sleeve. “You’re lying! She was still kneeling last night! She moved!” “She’s just greedy. She ate too much and fainted.” “Please, I’m begging you, save her…” A young female police officer looked at my thin, small corpse, her eyes reddening. She turned to look at the solid wood dining table. On the corner of the table was a smear of dark, dried blood. “Take the body,” the officer’s voice was cold. “Call the coroner to determine the cause of death.” My mom froze. “Why do you need a coroner?” “I won’t let you cut my daughter open! She died from a fall!” “There’s no need to investigate! It was an accident!” She fought desperately to stop them. But the harder she fought, the more suspicious the police grew. In the interrogation room at the police station, my mom sat in an iron chair, hands tightly clasped together. “I really didn’t hit her. I just gave her a light push.” “How was I supposed to know she would lose her balance? I never thought she’d hit her head on the corner of the table.” “Officer, I’m her biological mother! How could I possibly want to hurt her?” She cried a river of tears. If I hadn’t been floating right next to her, remembering her cold, indifferent face last night… I almost would have believed her. In the next room, the female officer was questioning Lily. Lily held a lollipop the officer had given her. “Sweetie, why was your sister kneeling on the floor yesterday?” Lily licked her lollipop. “Because my sister stole my meatball.” “Mom got mad and slapped my sister.” “Then Mom pushed her, and my sister’s head hit the table.” The officer’s pen paused. “And then?” “And then my sister kneeled on the floor.” “Mom said she had to kneel until she rotted.” Lily’s voice was crisp and innocent. “Kneel until she rotted.” The female officer took a deep breath and closed her notebook. Meanwhile, in the autopsy room. An older medical examiner wearing a mask held a gleaming scalpel. “Deceased: Female, 8 years old.” “Developmentally delayed. Height corresponds to a 6-year-old child.” “Blunt force trauma to the back of the head, resulting in intracranial hemorrhage. This is the fatal wound.” The scalpel sliced open my skin. I didn’t feel pain, just a chilly draft. The medical examiner opened my stomach. Everyone held their breath. They expected to see the undigested meatball. The proof of the “greed” my mom had claimed. But the moment the stomach was opened… The older medical examiner’s hand trembled. The assistant next to him covered his mouth, nearly vomiting. “What is this?” The older examiner used forceps to pick up a clump of residue. “This child… why is her stomach full of… this?”

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The third anniversary of the day my wife died saving my life was supposed to be a day of quiet mourning. Instead, I found myself standing at the entrance of a private banquet hall, watching her cradle a newborn—a child she shared with the man she’d told me was “just like a brother.” The room was packed with people. My heart hammered against my ribs as I recognized the faces: the very same friends and family who had sat in the front row of her funeral, eyes red and swollen, clutching my hands in sympathy. Now, they formed a human shield around Madeline, trying to block my path. “Nate, please, just stay calm!” Silas, my oldest friend, hissed, his hands trembling as he grabbed my shoulders. “Madeline didn’t have a choice back then. It’s complicated!” Ryan, the “brother,” dropped to his knees in front of me, his eyes brimming with tears. “Nate, please. The baby is innocent. She’s already here, and she needs her mother. Don’t destroy this family. I’m begging you.” I didn’t look at him. I didn’t even hear him. My entire world had narrowed down to a single point: Madeline. She flinched, shifting the baby to her other hip, her gaze darting to the floor. She couldn’t even look me in the eye. “Congratulations,” I said. My voice was eerily steady, devoid of the roar I felt inside. “Don’t let me stop the party.” To everyone’s shock, I didn’t scream. I didn’t throw a chair. I simply turned and walked out into the cool autumn air. But halfway across the parking lot, I pulled out my phone and dialed the Provost Marshal’s Office at the nearby base. “I’d like to report a case of desertion, fraud, and the illegal collection of military death benefits,” I said, my voice cracking only slightly. “The subject is Captain Madeline Vincent—who is currently very much alive.” 1. The air in the bistro was thick with the smell of expensive wine and celebration. My hand froze on the door handle as I stared at the head table. Madeline was leaning down, cooing at the infant in her arms, a soft, radiant smile playing on her lips. Ryan sat beside her, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. These were our people. Our inner circle. Three years ago, at Madeline’s memorial service, these same people had draped their arms over my shoulders, telling me I had to find a way to keep living. Now, they were toasted her “miraculous” return and the birth of her daughter. Someone finally spotted me. A glass shattered. “Nate?” The room went tomb-silent. Madeline’s head snapped up. The smile froze on her face, turning into a mask of pure terror. Her thumb began to rub the edge of her cuff—a nervous tic she’d developed back at West Point. I’d seen her do it a thousand times when she was under pressure. Ryan’s face went ghostly white. He gripped her arm as if he could pull her out of reality. Silas was the first to jump up, physically stepping between Madeline and me. “Nate, what are you doing here?” “I was just coming in for a quiet dinner,” I said. My voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. I’d spent the afternoon at the hardware store I managed, finishing the quarterly audit. The owner had offered to buy me a drink. I’d just happened to wander into this nightmare. Another friend, Mark, stood up, wringing his hands. “Nate, listen. Madeline… back then, she…” “She was forced? Is that the script?” I looked at the familiar faces around the room. Every single one of them looked away. Ryan handed the baby to a woman nearby and walked toward me. “Nate, I’m so sorry.” He clutched his chest, his breath hitching. Three years ago, he’d supposedly been injured trying to “search” for Madeline after the accident—a fall that had supposedly scarred his lungs. “Please, just let us have this. I love her. I’ve always loved her.” I expected to shatter. I expected to swing a fist or howl in agony. But all I felt was a cold, hollow silence. I almost wanted to laugh. For three years, I’d been trapped in a recurring nightmare of rushing water. The whole town called me the man who killed Madeline. It had been a week of record-breaking rain. The river had breached the levee. Madeline’s unit was deployed for emergency flood relief, and I’d been volunteering with the logistics team, delivering sandbags. I’d slipped. A rogue wave had pulled me toward the main current. Madeline had lunged for me, shoving me back toward the bank, only to be swept into the churning brown abyss herself. They searched for two weeks. They only found her torn uniform snagged on a downed cedar tree. At the service, her mother had screamed at me, calling me a curse, a black hole that swallowed everything good. My own parents had looked at their shoes, whispering that maybe I should move away for a while so I didn’t embarrass the family further. I accepted it. I believed I deserved the shame. On the seventh night after she “died,” I’d swallowed a handful of sleeping pills. A neighbor found me in time. In the ER, as they pumped my stomach, I heard the nurses whispering about the “coward” who let a hero like Captain Vincent die for him. No one knew the only reason I was at that dangerous section of the levee was because Ryan had called me, sobbing, saying Madeline was pinned under a fallen oak and the water was rising. I’d run there blindly. The levee gave way. Madeline “sacrificed” herself to save me. I walked over to an empty table and set my glass down. The clink of crystal against wood sounded like a gunshot. “Does the baby have a name?” Ryan blinked, confused. “Her… her name is Pax.” Pax. My fingernails dug into my palms. It was the name we’d chosen. If we ever had a kid, boy or girl, we’d name them Pax. Latin for peace. Because Madeline’s life in the military was so chaotic, she wanted her home to be the opposite. Madeline finally spoke. Her voice was thin, brittle. “Nate, it’s not what you think. The situation was complicated. There were… people watching me. I had to disappear.” “Madeline!” Ryan interrupted, his voice sharp with warning. He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “She had to do it for national security, Nate. It was a classified situation. These last three years haven’t been easy for her either.” “Not easy?” I looked at her, my eyes like chips of ice. “How hard was it, Madeline? Was it hard watching the town label me a murderer? Was it hard knowing my parents were too ashamed to claim me? Was it hard watching me try to kill myself while you were playing house?” The room stayed silent. Not a single “friend” spoke up. “Nate, be reasonable,” Silas whispered. “It’s a Christening party. Think of the child.” “I am being reasonable.” I picked up my glass and raised it in a mock toast. “To Pax. May she grow up to be more honest than her parents.” I downed the whiskey. It burned all the way down, forcing tears to my eyes. “That’s enough!” Madeline stood up so fast her chair screeched against the floor. She marched toward me, her brow furrowed in that familiar look of frustrated authority. “Nate, if you have a problem, take it out on me, but don’t do this here. Three years later and you still don’t know how to handle yourself in public!” She reached out to grab my arm. I flinched back. “I told you. I’m just here for dinner. I walked into the wrong room.” She didn’t believe me. Her hand stayed extended, demanding. “Don’t act like a martyr. I’m sorry for what happened to you, okay? I’ll give you a ride home after the party is over.” Ryan called her name from the table, his voice trembling. Madeline glanced back, her expression softening into a look of pure devotion before turning back to me with a sneer. The absurdity of it finally hit me. “No thanks. You have a husband and a child now. It wouldn’t be appropriate.” I didn’t wait for her to respond. I turned and walked out. Behind me, the murmurs of “poor Madeline” and the sound of Ryan’s forced sobbing began to fade. A thousand days of bone-deep guilt and agonizing longing. All of it, rendered worthless by the truth. I stood on the sidewalk, the cool breeze hitting my face. Across the street, the neon sign of a 24-hour convenience store flickered. I walked to the payphone outside. I dialed the number. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “Hello. I’d like to report a fraud. Captain Madeline Vincent, formerly of the 10th Mountain Division. She’s been collecting a pension and honors under false pretenses while violating the terms of her marriage and the UCMJ…” 2. I hadn’t gone two blocks before a hand clamped onto my wrist. “Nate! Stop!” Madeline was breathless, her grip so tight I could feel her nails digging into the bone. I yanked my arm back, but she held on. The touch that used to be my sanctuary now felt like a hot iron. “Let go of me.” Seeing my coldness, her expression shifted. She started babbling, desperate to contain the damage. “Nate, don’t be like this! It’s not what it looks like. I can explain everything…” She thought this was just a jealous outburst. She thought she could soothe me into silence. “Explain how you faked your death? How you were pregnant with Ryan’s kid while I was mourning you? Or how you let the world treat me like a monster for three years?” I started to laugh, but the laughter turned into tears. Three years of bottled-up agony finally broke. “Madeline, what makes you think I care about your excuses?” She swallowed hard, her voice dropping to a gentle, manipulative whisper. She reached for me again, and I recoiled. “Nate, I know I hurt you. But I had no choice. The current pulled me downriver. Ryan’s parents found me. I was badly injured, I couldn’t contact anyone. And Ryan… he took care of me while I was hiding, while I was recovering. When I woke up, I found out he’d nearly died trying to find me. He sacrificed his health for me. I couldn’t just leave him.” Nate. That nickname. It used to make my heart skip. She wasn’t always this cold-blooded. The Madeline I married had been the soul of integrity. She’d been the one who protected me. Back when she was first commissioned, a junior officer had tried to hit on her. One night during a storm, he’d offered her a ride in his truck. She’d called a taxi for him instead and rode her bike through the pouring rain to meet me, arriving soaked to the bone just to prove she was mine. The next day, she’d made it clear to the entire base that she was taken. She took a hit on her performance review because that officer had connections, but she just smiled at me and said, “I won’t have you feeling insecure. A little drama is worth your peace of mind.” She never let anyone get close. Except Ryan. He was the boy next door from her childhood. She always said she had to look after him. Our dates were constantly interrupted by his “emergencies.” On my thirty-first birthday, she’d booked a table at the best steakhouse in the city. We hadn’t even ordered appetizers when the waiter told her she had a call. It was Ryan. He was at her apartment, claiming he was having a panic attack. She’d looked at me with those puppy-dog eyes, apologized, and left. When I complained, she’d just rub my hair and say, “Why are you jealous of him? He’s like a brother. He’s all alone out here. Just be the bigger person, Nate. Once we’re married, it’ll be fine.” To prove it, she’d saved up for six months to buy me a vintage watch, proposing to me on one knee. “Nate, will you marry me? You’re the only one for me. Forever.” I believed her. I swallowed every bit of resentment. Then Ryan started wearing the clothes she bought for me. He’d leave notes in her car: Thanks for the talk, Sis. When I tried to set boundaries with him, Madeline blew up at me. “He’s family! Don’t be so disgusting!” She’d slammed the door, leaving behind a box of pastries Ryan had sent. The card read: Thanks for everything, big sister. Looking back, every “panic attack” and “emergency” had been a meticulously placed trap. I shook my head, clearing the memories. I looked at the stranger standing in front of me, and the pain in my chest was a dull, throbbing ache. Madeline saw my dazed expression and thought she’d won. She moved to put an arm around my shoulder. “Nate, let’s go somewhere private and talk this out.” I snapped back to reality and shoved her away. I stumbled back, my heart racing. She reached out to steady me, her strength surprising me as she pulled me toward her. “Madeline? What the hell is going on?” 3. Ryan’s voice was thin and raspy, but it cut through the air like a blade. I tore myself out of Madeline’s grasp, stepping back, my face twisted in disgust. Madeline panicked, spinning around to face the bistro door. Ryan was standing there, clutching the baby. He was deathly pale, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and—if I looked closely—a flicker of calculating triumph. His father was right behind him, his face dark with fury. “Dad, Ryan, why are you out here?” Madeline rushed forward to help Ryan, but he pulled away. The older man stepped forward, pointing a finger at us. “Madeline! You’re out here huddled with him? After everything Ryan has done for you?” Ryan’s mother chimed in, her eyes venomous as she glared at me. “Nathaniel, right? You cried like a baby when she ‘died,’ and now that you see she’s alive, you’re trying to steal her back? Have you no shame?” “Mom, don’t talk to Nate like that…” Ryan sniffled, tears streaming down his face as he looked down at the baby. “Madeline, do you still love him? Are you regretting us? Do you want to go back to him?” He started to sob, his shoulders shaking. The baby, startled, began to wail, making him look even more pathetic. Madeline’s face went white. She scrambled to comfort him. “Of course not! Ryan, honey, I didn’t mean anything by it! You’re my husband. Pax is my daughter. I would never leave you.” The words were like a rusted needle driven into my heart. How familiar. It was the exact same tone, the exact same promise she’d made to me. My mind drifted back to when I first met Ryan. I’d just started a job at the local manufacturing plant, and Ryan was an apprentice who was always being picked on by the older guys. I helped him out. We became friends. He told me about his “big sister” Madeline, the decorated Army Captain. Later, he introduced us, grinning. “This is Madeline. She’s the real deal. If you ever need anything, she’s got you.” Then he’d whispered to me, “Don’t get any ideas, though. She’s mine.” I’d thought it was a joke. Now I realized it was a marker. A territorial claim. But Madeline was the one who pursued me. She brought me breakfast every morning. She waited for me after my shifts. If I worked late, she sat in her car in the parking lot until I came out. When I hesitated, she told me, “Ryan is just a brother to me. I look after him. But you’re the one I saw and just knew.You’re different.” I believed her. I said yes. I remembered the dinner we had when we told Ryan we were dating. He’d been silent the whole night. At the end, he’d hugged me and cried. “Nate, you have to make her happy. If you don’t, I’ll never forgive myself.” I thought it was a blessing. Now I knew it was the start of the endgame. He’d been waiting. Waiting for the chance to kick me out of the frame. I let out a sharp, jagged laugh. No more tears. Just absolute, terrifying clarity. Madeline looked at me, her eyes flitting between guilt and annoyance. Ryan looked up, his gaze wary. “What’s so funny?” Ryan’s father barked. I looked at the whole wretched family. Then I looked Madeline in the eye. “I’m laughing at what a fool I was. Three years of grief, and it was all a punchline.” “Madeline, back then you said Ryan was a brother and I was the love of your life. Now you say Ryan is your husband and you’ll never leave him. Which lie is the one you actually believe?” Madeline opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Ryan grabbed her arm, looking at me with feigned pity. “Nate, let the past stay in the past. We’re happy now. Please, just stop harassing us.” “Harassing you?” I raised an eyebrow. “I never had any intention of staying. From the moment you held this party in secret, from the moment Madeline faked her death to steal honors from the military, there was nothing left between us but a debt.” I paused, looking at them with total indifference. “Don’t worry. I don’t want your wife, Ryan. I don’t want to break up your ‘home.’ A woman like Madeline? I wouldn’t take her back if she were the last person on earth. You two deserve each other.” “I hope you stay together forever,” I said. “Because nobody else should have to deal with either of you.” 4. My “blessing” hit Madeline like a physical blow. Her face went from pale to a mottled, angry red. She let go of Ryan and stormed back toward me, her voice trembling with humiliated rage. “Nate, do you really have to be this cruel?” “Cruel?” I tilted my head. “Compared to what you did? My words are nothing.” Ryan scrambled after her, eyes brimming again. “Nate, please. Madeline hasn’t had it easy. She told me she wanted to make it up to you. We’ll give you money—whatever you want—just please, stop this.” “Make it up to me?” Madeline caught onto Ryan’s suggestion, her tone shifting to something patronizing, almost charitable. “Yes. I’ll compensate you. I had my reasons for what I did, but I recognize that you were hurt. What do you want? A promotion at work? Money? If it’s within my power, it’s yours.” That was the final straw. The three years of suppressed fire inside me finally roared to life. I looked at her familiar face—the face I’d kissed every morning, the face I’d wept over in my dreams—and I felt a wave of pure nausea. I laughed again. “Madeline, what do you take me for? You think a check is going to erase the fact that you’re a fraud? That you stole a hero’s reputation while I was being treated like a pariah?” “What else do you want then?” Madeline snapped, her patience evaporating. Her brow knitted into a familiar scowl. “It’s over, Nate! I can’t just abandon Ryan and Pax! I’m offering you a way out so we can all move on. Don’t be greedy!” Ryan’s father stepped in, his voice a low, threatening rumble. “Nathaniel, she’s being more than generous. Take the deal and walk away. If you make a scene, it won’t end well for you. A grown man clinging to the past like this… it’s pathetic. It’ll ruin your reputation.” “My reputation?” I looked at him, my gaze freezing him in place. “Where were you three years ago when the whole town was calling me a curse? When I was the man who ‘killed’ his wife? You didn’t care about my reputation then.” Silas and a few others from the party had filtered out onto the sidewalk, forming a semi-circle around us. They started chiming in, a chorus of “Nate, calm down,” and “Don’t ruin everyone’s lives over a mistake.” I looked at them and finally understood. After Madeline “returned,” she must have gone to them. She probably gave them some bullshit story about a “classified mission” and “national security” to buy their silence. These people—people I’d called friends—had either been bought or fooled. They were accomplices. The familiar voices of “reason” sounded like a cult chant, overlapping with the ghosts of the mourners at her funeral. It made me want to retch. Madeline took a deep breath, trying to regain her commander’s poise. “Nate, I’m asking you. Please. Making a mess won’t help anyone. Let’s talk tomorrow. I know I owe you. I’ll give you whatever you want, okay?” She had no idea that I’d already made the call. She was still living in a fantasy where she could use soft words and a bribe to keep her perfect little life intact. I didn’t bother correcting her. I just leaned against the brick wall of the bistro and watched her performance. Ryan, sensing I wasn’t budging, turned up the volume on his theatrics. “Nate, think of my son! Madeline made a mistake, but she’s a good mother. Don’t take her away from us!” The baby in his arms began to scream louder, her face turning purple. I felt nothing. The child was innocent, yes. But that innocence wasn’t a currency she could use to pay for her mother’s crimes. Madeline pulled Ryan into a protective embrace, then looked at me with cold finality. “Nate, enough. I don’t want to get ugly. Either take the money, or we go our separate ways and you stay out of my life.” She reached into her designer clutch, pulled out a thick envelope of cash, and held it out. “This is a start. Take it. If you need more, call me.” I looked at the envelope. It was the most insulting thing I’d ever seen. I reached out and flicked it out of her hand. The bills scattered across the pavement, fluttering like dead leaves in the wind. Madeline’s face darkened. She was about to scream at me when two dark SUVs pulled sharply to the curb. Four men in crisp military uniforms and two others in suits stepped out. They moved with a terrifying, synchronized purpose. The lead officer, a Colonel with eyes like flint, locked onto Madeline. “Captain Madeline Vincent?” he asked, his voice cutting through the night. Madeline froze. “Yes? Who… what is this?” The Colonel didn’t hesitate. “I am with the Criminal Investigation Command. You are being detained for questioning regarding charges of desertion, fraud, and the unlawful acquisition of military benefits. You will come with us immediately.”

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My acting is as trash as dog shit. No director was willing to hire me, so I had to pay out of my own pocket just to get a role. Juggling acting and side hustles, I was constantly operating at a loss. Until my agent booked me a reality TV show. The original plan was just for me to show my face and build a little presence. I never expected that I would instantly blow up on the trending charts. None of the celebrity guests on the show knew how to cook. I raised my hand and said: “I know a little bit about cooking.” So, using whatever ingredients were on hand, I whipped up an eight-course feast. The sweetheart ingenue’s makeup melted off. I raised my hand and said: “I know a little bit about makeup.” After I worked my magic, she was so thrilled she wanted to hire me as her personal makeup artist. In the middle of the night, a water pipe burst in the house the production team provided. I raised my hand and said: “I know a little bit about plumbing.” That very night, I skyrocketed to the top of the trending charts. The top comment read: Of the 360 trades in the world, sister, why don’t you just pick a different one?! 1 Other actors get paid to work. I had to pay to get acting gigs. This all started with my very first audition. I was auditioning for the role of a blind person. My performance was so breathtakingly realistic that it scared the director out of his chair. He personally escorted me out on the spot: “Ma’am, I asked you to play a blind person, not a zombie from The Walking Dead!” From that day on, my reputation preceded me. Within a hundred-mile radius of Hollywood, not a single casting director dared to hire me. My agent deeply regretted her choices, particularly the choice to sign me so early. But, out of professional obligation, she still tried her best to get me work. Even though they were all just extra roles and bit parts. As a result, my reputation only grew. When I played a corpse, I actually fell asleep, and when I was supposed to have a post-mortem twitch, I didn’t move a muscle. The director almost had a heart attack from stress. When I played a background maid, my voice was louder than the lead actress’s. When I played a lackey, I tripped the female lead while trying to walk menacingly. Not only did I lose the role, but I had to fork over my entire month’s salary to cover the medical bills and ruined costumes. Given all of the above, I truly couldn’t get a single role anymore. Left with no other options, I had to get creative. Not only did I work for free, but I actively paid money to get cast. For a single bit part with three lines, I had to network through eighteen different connections. I even had to bribe the casting director’s dog with premium organic dog treats. This went on for three years. I was still stuck at square one. My acting was still garbage, and I was still only booking tiny extra roles. Even the savings I had built up from working odd jobs before entering the industry were almost gone. With no other choice, I had to pick up side hustles between acting gigs just to survive. In my spare time, I did DoorDash deliveries. The only problem was, occasionally, I’d accidentally deliver food to a set I was working on, which was a little awkward. But doing food delivery just didn’t pay enough. So, I started looking into maintenance work. Things like being a locksmith or fixing toilets. Low stress, high pay. Or I’d go work as a line cook at restaurants that were too busy and needed an extra hand tossing the wok. Over the past three years, I juggled acting and odd jobs. Of the 360 recognized trades in the world, I’ve probably dabbled in every single one. 2 When my agent called me, I was in the middle of changing a lock cylinder for a young woman who lived alone. I had just popped the old cylinder out when my phone rang. My agent, Maggie’s, voice sounded incredibly excited. “Stella, I got you a fantastic gig!” “It’s a live-streamed reality show! It’s packed with A-listers, and the buzz is already massive. You are going to ride some serious coattails on this one!” “To get you on this show, I literally begged every single connection I have. I bought three different producers dinner. I’m deducting all those expenses from your paycheck, by the way.” What?! Deducting it from my paycheck? Wait a minute, do I even have a paycheck? I let out a bitter laugh. “Maggie, I’ve been operating at a loss for years. There’s literally nothing left to deduct from me. Why don’t you just dock my credit score instead?” However, my agent didn’t share my pessimism. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Listen, there are two massive pop idols, an Oscar-winning actress, and two ‘sweetheart’ ingenues. The drama and trending potential are going to be off the charts! Just standing in the background will get you more exposure than you’ve had in your entire life. Your popularity is going to skyrocket! You’ll have so many scripts thrown at you, you won’t even have time to read them all!” Hearing her say that, I started floating a little. If that happened, did that mean I could finally get some more significant roles? I’d settle for the evil step-sister! Or even the female lead’s quirky best friend! Anything was better than my current status of only ever having three lines! So, I immediately promised: “Don’t worry, Maggie! I will perform my heart out on this reality show. I will fight for every second of screen time and ride this wave to the top!” After finishing the lock installation for the young woman, I rushed home without stopping. I stayed up all night compiling dossiers on all the other guests on the show. I didn’t realize until I looked them up, but the lineup was terrifying. They were all currently trending, highly talked-about celebrities. The kind of people who could sneeze and end up on the front page of TMZ. The day the production company announced the cast lineup, the post surpassed a million retweets in half an hour. I was absolutely dumbfounded. Looking at the comments underneath, it was even more spectacular. The top comments were entirely fan bases cheering for their idols. Obviously, none of them were cheering for me. The only few comments that mentioned me went something like this: “Who is that girl at the end? Stella? Never heard of her. Is she a regular civilian?” “The producers are getting creative, bringing in an average Joe.” “Wow, I want to go! This Stella girl is so lucky.” Meanwhile, I, Stella “The Civilian”, was crying a river of tears in my heart. 3 The day of the reality show recording. To make a good impression on the crew, I arrived on set extremely early. I spent my time bringing coffee and kissing up to all the production staff. Not long after, the other guests began to arrive one by one. I practically tripped over myself rushing to help them carry their luggage. Mainly to steal some screen time. And to build up some goodwill. The live-stream comments noted: [This civilian girl really knows how to play the networking game.] Of course I do! I’ve spent the last three years in the industry doing nothing but networking! Just as I was helping the ‘sweetheart’ ingenue, Daisy, lift her suitcase, the Oscar-winning actress next to her, Serena, suddenly let out a shriek. “Ah! My zipper is broken!” Serena had brought a simple duffel bag today to save hassle, but the zipper had derailed after only two pulls. She frustratedly ran a hand through her hair. “I wonder if there’s a tailor or repair shop nearby.” I gently set Daisy’s suitcase on the ground. Dusting off my hands, I walked over to Serena. “Let me take a look.” The three people gathered around automatically stepped aside to give me room. Serena frowned. “You know how to fix zippers?” I picked up the bag, inspected it carefully, and confirmed it was a minor issue. I turned back and replied, “I know a little bit about it. Do you mind if I use my teeth?” After getting a bewildered but affirmative nod from Serena, I clamped my teeth down on the zipper track until I bit open a large enough gap on the derailed side. Then, I fed the bottom teeth of the zipper back into the slider. Once I confirmed it was pulled all the way to the bottom, I bit down again, clamping the gap I had just created firmly shut. After finishing, I zipped the bag up and down a few times to ensure it was smooth, then handed it back to Serena. “All done.” Serena took the bag, looking completely incredulous. “That’s it?” I waved my hand casually. “Minor issue.” Except it was a little hard on the molars. The live stream went wild: [Learned something new today.] [Looks like the civilian they hired is actually a seamstress.] [It’s alright, isn’t that just a basic life hack?] [Civilian Stella actually has some skills.] [Civilian sister, I’m a little worried about your dental health.] Thank you. My teeth are feeling a little breezy right now. 4 The room assignments were sorted out. I was sharing a room with the sweetheart, Daisy. The Oscar winner, Serena, had her own room. The two pop idols were sharing a room. By the time we unpacked, it was already high noon. Unsurprisingly, everyone’s stomachs were growling. Naturally, ordering Uber Eats was strictly forbidden. According to the rules of the show, we had to use the ingredients provided on-site, and we had to prepare a total of eight dishes. I took inventory of the vegetables on the counter. Eggs, eggplant, cabbage, pork belly… Okay, making eight dishes wouldn’t be a problem. So, I looked excitedly at the others. “Let’s each make one dish! What does everyone know how to cook?” Daisy was the first to raise her hand. “I know how to make boiled eggs.” Girl, I don’t think that counts as a dish. The comments: [Aww~ Our Daisy is so cute~] Serena also raised her hand. “I know how to make steamed eggs.” Sister, I don’t think that counts as a dish either. The comments: [Wow~ Our Serena is so amazing~] Next to them, the pop idol, Mason, raised his hand: “I know how to make scrambled eggs.” I was sweating profusely. Why is everyone obsessed with eggs?! Holding onto a final shred of hope, I asked, “Does anyone here know how to actually cook a meal?” The group nodded in perfect, silent unison. No. I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. We were out of time. If we didn’t cook soon, everyone was going to starve and turn into actual zombies. I took a deep breath and started issuing commands. “Serena, help me chop the eggplant. Daisy, julienne the potatoes. You two handsome guys, prep the cabbage leaves and dice the pork belly…” Once everyone had chopped and washed all the ingredients, I smoothly fired up the stove and started cooking. High heat, aggressive stir-frying, occasional wok-tossing. So skilled it was almost heartbreaking. The others watched, completely dumbfounded. “Stella, you actually know how to cook like a chef?!” I offered a modest smile. “I know a little bit about culinary arts.” The comments: [Those wok tosses do not look amateur.] [I bet the civilian sister’s real job is a chef!] [The guy above me, the answer is already on the board and you’re still guessing.] After a grueling forty minutes, the final dish was brought to the table. It was a full-blown feast, a perfect balance of meat and vegetables. Braised pork ribs, spicy chicken stew, chili pork stir-fry, tomato and egg stir-fry, braised eggplant, hot and sour shredded potatoes, braised pork belly, and a steamed egg custard. Eight dishes. Absolute perfection. Everyone couldn’t stop praising the food as they ate. “Stella, you’re amazing! This is so delicious!” Of course it is. If it tasted bad, they docked my pay. “You’re literally at the level of an executive chef.” Because I am a professional. Back when I was slinging woks at the restaurant, I could crack an egg with one hand. My cooking was so good it brought in a ton of repeat customers for the owner. 5 Everyone was eating, drinking, laughing, and chatting. Only Daisy, sitting next to me, seemed down. She kept checking herself in a compact mirror. I put a piece of braised pork belly into her bowl. “Daisy, why aren’t you eating?” Daisy pulled a long face. “My makeup is ruined.” While I was cooking earlier, Daisy had been my dedicated sous-chef, constantly running back and forth handing me things. After being smoked out by the grease and cooking fumes for half an hour, her makeup had completely melted off. Even though she had a great natural base and didn’t look bad, she definitely wasn’t looking her best. The comments were filled with sympathy: [Aww, our poor Daisy. She doesn’t know how to do anything, but she was helping out the whole time, and she didn’t even have time to touch up her makeup.] [Oh no. Daisy cares about her appearance more than anything. She probably doesn’t even want to look up at the camera.] [This show doesn’t allow outside assistants. I wonder if Daisy even brought her makeup bag.] I asked, “Daisy, did you bring any makeup with you?” Daisy pulled a cushion puff and a lip tint out of her pocket. “I left in such a hurry, I only brought these two.” I nodded. “That’s enough. That’s plenty.” Daisy looked completely lost. “Huh?” Five minutes later, Daisy was staring at herself in the mirror, absolutely thrilled. “Stella, you’re incredible! How did you achieve a full-face makeup look using only a puff and a lip tint?!” I smiled and replied, “I used the puff to heavily set the center of your face, which creates a highlighting effect. Then I used the lip tint for blush and to lower the outer corner of your eyes. But the main reason it looks so good is because you have a great base to work with. Otherwise, even the most skilled hands couldn’t paint a masterpiece.” Back in the day, to make extra cash, I ran around to countless different gig locations. At my peak, I did makeup for 58 people in a single day. They called me the “Hustling MUA.” Daisy was floating on air from the compliment. “Stella, why don’t you come be my personal makeup artist? The pay is highly lucrative!” It sounded incredibly tempting, but I still waved my hand. “I just know a little bit about it. I still have my main career.” Even though my main career lost me money, I truly loved it. The live comments exploded: [To the person guessing chef earlier, still wanna bet? I’m guessing Civilian Stella’s job is a makeup artist.] [Are you stupid? Didn’t she just say she has a main career? She’s not a makeup artist!] [Seeing how skilled she is, it really doesn’t look amateur. What the hell does she actually do?!] That night, the hashtag “What Exactly is Stella’s Job?” skyrocketed to the top of the trending charts. 6 That evening, we all went back to our respective rooms. I was lying in bed scrolling on my phone, and the second I saw the trending hashtag with my name on it, I sat bolt upright. I rubbed my eyes. Holy monkey, am I seeing things?! I, Stella, actually made it onto the trending charts?! I was ecstatic. I was losing my mind. Everyone must have been blown away by my charm today. After all, a gorgeous girl who can cook, carry luggage, and is a master of social networking? Who wouldn’t love that? Let’s see how everyone is praising me. I happily clicked on the hashtag. A massive headline immediately caught my eye: What Exactly is Stella’s Job? My smile froze on my face. What is my job? I’ve been acting for three years, and you’re asking me what my job is?! Okay, fine, I admit it. The dramas I’ve been in are all super niche indie stuff, or I was just an extra. It’s understandable if people don’t know. But wasn’t it written right there in the guest introductions below the show’s description?! Stella, Actress! Is that not clear enough?! I frantically clicked on the official cast introductions for our reality show. Stella, Civilian. Me: “?” Don’t mess with me. Wait, when the show first premiered, I explicitly remember it saying “Actress”! I planned to demand an explanation from the producers tomorrow. However, by the next day, I had completely forgotten about it. Because today’s challenge was brutal. Setting up a street stall. Everyone had to choose a street vending stall they liked and sell products. As long as a customer approached, we had to serve them, and we would be graded on our performance. The two handsome pop idols chose the easiest option: grilling hot dogs. Serena chose something slightly easier: applying phone screen protectors. The only thing left was the slightly more difficult option: making street crepes. Everyone looked at me. “Stella, we’re counting on you.” I rubbed my forehead and forced a bitter smile. Street crepes. I actually did know a little bit about that. 7 I was planning to show off my skills. But after waiting for half an hour, not a single customer showed up. Bored out of my mind, I looked around. Figuring I’d go steal some screen time at the other stalls, my eyes landed on Serena’s booth. A young woman was standing in front of the stall, looking quite unhappy. She kept rushing Serena: “Are you done yet? I’ve been waiting for almost twenty minutes.” Serena was sweating profusely from nervousness. “I’m so sorry, this is my first time applying a tempered glass protector. I’ll be done in just a second.” I walked over. “Serena, what’s wrong?” The customer spoke up: “I just need a screen protector applied. She’s gone through five or six of them and still can’t get it right. I’m in a rush.” I took the phone from Serena and whispered, “Serena, you grabbed the wrong model size. Let me handle it.” Serena sighed helplessly: “I’ve been looking through this pile of protectors for half an hour, I can’t find the exact model match.” I carefully inspected the pile. Indeed, there wasn’t an exact model match. But phone screens are mostly similar; there should be another model that fits well enough. I rummaged through the pile and finally found one. The old, cracked screen protector hadn’t even been removed from the customer’s phone yet. Serena probably thought the new one was supposed to be applied directly over it. I picked at the corner of the phone screen, slowly and carefully lifting it up until the old protector separated from the screen. Then, I peeled the entire sheet of cracked glass off. I tossed the broken protector into the trash can. I pulled out an alcohol prep pad and meticulously began wiping the phone screen. The comments: [Stella knows how to apply screen protectors too?!] [She looks so focused, it doesn’t look like she’s faking it.] [So Stella’s actual job is running a phone repair kiosk?] [Highly likely. An amateur wouldn’t have that much patience.] I wiped the screen until there wasn’t a single speck of dust or fine hair left. Then, I slowly peeled back one corner of the new tempered glass protector, pulled the backing off halfway, and carefully aligned it with the phone screen. I gently lowered it, smoothly pulling the rest of the backing off, waiting for the glass protector to slowly adhere to the screen. Once everything was done, the three of us let out a long sigh of relief. The live stream comments also let out a sigh of relief: [Phew, it’s finally applied. We four are amazing.] [No wonder I can never apply screen protectors right. Turns out I just don’t have enough patience.] [Case closed. Stella is absolutely a phone kiosk worker. If she’s not, I swear I’ll eat a shoe on live stream.] [The guy above me is getting bold with these bets.] After sending the customer off, Serena looked at me, her eyes filled with amazement. “I never expected you to know how to apply screen protectors too.” I waved my hand casually. “I know a little bit about it. I’m used to applying them for myself.” In reality, there was a period of time where I constantly set up a stall under an overpass selling phone cases. Naturally, I had to apply screen protectors too. Because of my absolute patience, rigorous attention to detail, and excellent technique, I attracted a massive crowd. At my absolute peak, I applied 140 tempered glass screen protectors in a single day. My hands were practically smoking by the end of it.