Category: English

That year, the earthquake hit, burying my sister and me under tons of concrete. The rescue captain shouted, “The structure is unstable! If we pull one out, the rest might collapse. We can only guarantee one safe extraction right now.” Without a second of hesitation, Mom and Dad screamed, “Save Bella! Save our oldest!” Bella, my sister, screamed from the darkness, “Save me first! Get me out!” During the rescue, the firefighters repeatedly emphasized, “Do not move. Stay perfectly still.” But Bella didn’t listen. In her panic, she thrashed around, pushing against the debris surrounding her to clear her own path. Her movements triggered a secondary collapse. I was crushed to death by a falling beam while she was pulled to safety. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my bed. It was the day of the earthquake. Chapter 1 I jolted awake, gasping for air. The date on my phone glared back at me. It was today. The earthquake would strike at 2:00 AM. It was currently midnight. I didn’t waste a second thinking. I shoved my feet into sneakers and bolted out the door. In my past life, too many people died in our apartment complex. Since I had been given a second chance, I couldn’t just let them die. I started from the first floor, pounding on doors like a maniac. “Fire! Gas leak! Everyone out!” I screamed, using whatever excuse would get them moving fast. I waited until I saw lights flicker on before moving to the next unit. By the time I had woken up the residents of all seven floors, I had five minutes left. I sprinted back into our unit. Two minutes. In my previous life, I wasted my escape window trying to wake Bella. She was a heavy sleeper, and that delay cost me my life. This time, I’d leave that “honor” to Mom, who loved Bella more than life itself. I burst into my parents’ room. “Mom! Dad! Wake up! The ground is shaking!” They groggily sat up. Forty seconds left. “I tried to wake Bella, but she won’t budge! What do we do?” I yelled, feigning panic. Dad frowned, confused. “What earthquake? What are you talking about in the middle of the…” Before he could finish, the floor lurched violently beneath us. “Bella is still asleep!” I screamed over the rumbling. Terror washed over Mom’s face. She scrambled toward Bella’s room, shrieking, “Bella! Bella, baby, get up! Run! It’s an earthquake!” Dad grabbed my arm. “Run! Now!” The quake was violent and immediate. It gave no quarter. Just as Dad and I stumbled out of the building entrance, the world roared. Boom. The building collapsed behind us. Mom and Bella were trapped inside. Screams and sirens filled the air. My ears rang, vision blurring as the dust settled. The memories of my death flooded back. Last time, I had shaken Bella until my arms ached, but she wouldn’t wake up. Mom and Dad had escaped, leaving us behind. When the rescuers found us hours later, Mom’s voice had pierced through the rubble. “Bella! Hang in there, baby! Mommy is here! You have to survive!” She never called my name. Not once. When the rescue team explained the unstable structure—that saving one might crush the other—I knew my fate before they even spoke. “Save the one on the right! Save Bella! The one in the white pajamas!” Mom had screamed. And Bella, hearing this, had cried out, “Mommy, save me! My leg hurts! Me first!” I lay there in the cold dark, watching the light shine on Bella. “Don’t move,” the firefighter had warned her. “If you move, the debris will shift onto your sister.” She didn’t care. She kicked and pushed, desperate to get out. As she was pulled free, the weight of the building came down on me. “Mom, help me! It hurts!” I had screamed. The rescuers wanted to dig for me, but I heard Mom’s voice from above, cold and final. “Don’t bother. Even if you get her out, she’ll be crippled. I don’t have the energy to raise a vegetable.” I watched the sliver of light vanish as the rubble sealed my tomb. I waited in the dark for death. Now, I stood in the dust of a new timeline. This time, you get to feel what it’s like to be chosen last. Chapter 2 “Ava! Are you okay?” Dad’s voice snapped me back to reality. I pulled him backward. “Dad, watch out for aftershocks! We need open ground. Rescue is coming. Mom and Bella will be fine.” Dad was in shock, staring blankly at the ruin of our home. Anyone experiencing this for the first time would be broken. But I had already died here. Every breath I took now was profit. The first responders arrived quickly. Dad rushed over, begging them to dig. The building was a mess of concrete and rebar. They couldn’t locate them. But I knew where they were. I intentionally led a team in the opposite direction first, “saving” an elderly neighbor who was calling for help. By the time I “found” Mom and Bella, six hours had passed. “Dad! I hear Mom!” I shouted. The rescue captain assessed the situation. He looked at Dad with a grim expression. “It’s unstable. The structure is like a house of cards. If we extract one, the shift will likely collapse the pocket holding the other.” The words were identical. Through a gap in the concrete, I saw Bella’s pale face and Mom’s terrified eyes. Dad hesitated. Both were his family. Unlike Mom in my past life, he struggled with the choice. Then Bella started screaming. “Daddy, save me! I don’t want to die! Daddy, I can work, I can marry rich, I can take care of you when you’re old! Mom is just a housewife! You can get another wife! I have more value than her!” I watched Mom’s face contort in shock. I lowered my head to hide my smirk. Surprise, Mom. The daughter you worship sees you as a disposable servant. Dad made his choice. “Save my daughter.” Mom went feral. “David! If you let me die, I will haunt you forever! And you, Bella! You ungrateful brat! I can’t believe you’re so selfish!” Bella, trapped and in pain, screamed back, “I’m just being realistic! I have a future! Dad is making the smart choice!” Mom’s eyes were full of venomous hatred. But I couldn’t let Mom die just yet. That would be too easy. I leaned into the gap and sobbed, “Mom! Mom, don’t be scared! I’ll find a way! Hang on, Mom! I won’t give up on you!” Compared to Bella, I sounded like an angel. I just wanted to make sure she survived long enough to hate Bella properly. The rescue took hours. When Bella was finally pulled out, her legs were purple and crushed. “Those legs are gone,” a medic muttered. Surprisingly, the secondary collapse didn’t happen this time. Maybe because I wasn’t the one trapped, or maybe Bella was too injured to thrash around. Mom was pulled out alive. They were rushed to the hospital. Dad went with Bella. I went with Mom. I couldn’t wait for Mom to wake up. Chapter 3 I sat by Mom’s hospital bed, staring at her sleeping face. It was the first time I’d really looked at her. Mom never wanted me. Grandma told me that Mom paid a hefty fine to try for a second child, hoping for a boy. When I popped out—another girl—she was furious. I was dumped at my grandma’s farm immediately. I survived on scraps and the kindness of neighbors. When I was eight, Dad brought me back to the city for school. Bella was two years older, the princess of the house. I was the Cinderella. Cleaning, cooking, laundry. My grades suffered because I had no time to study, while Bella was tutored and pampered. I never had a birthday party. I wasn’t even allowed to eat Bella’s birthday cake because Mom said I would “steal her luck.” Now, Bella was a double amputee with a face scarred by rebar. Would they still love her? Mom’s eyes fluttered open. She looked at me, confused, then relieved. “Mom? You’re awake? Are you okay?” I asked, feigning deep concern. She grabbed my wrist. “Where is your sister?” I put on my best tragic face. “Bella… it’s bad. They had to amputate both legs. Her face is ruined. She hasn’t woken up yet.” Mom went silent. She lay back, staring at the ceiling. She wasn’t crying. She was calculating. When Mom was discharged, Bella finally woke up. Dad wasn’t there; he was out trying to find us a place to live. Bella lay in bed, groggy. She didn’t know about her legs yet. When she saw Mom, she flinched. “Mom… you’re alive. That’s… good. We’re both alive. Don’t blame me for what I said, I was just scared.” Mom looked at her coldly. I walked up and hugged Mom’s arm. “Mom, you just woke up, sit down. Thank god you survived. If you hadn’t…” I trailed off. Mom looked at Bella with disgust. Bella glared at me. “Ava, stop trying to drive a wedge between us. Mom will never love you.” That sentence seemed to snap something in Mom. She turned, grabbed my hand, and teared up. “I haven’t wasted my time on you, Ava. I was wrong before. I treated you poorly. Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you. Double.” I smiled and squeezed her hand, shooting a triumphant look at Bella. But internally, I was skeptical. Would she really change? Or was I just the new investment vehicle? Chapter 4 Dad returned with three takeout boxes. Me, Mom, and Dad. None for Bella. “Where’s mine?” Bella demanded. “You just had surgery,” Dad said, stuffing his face. “Doctor said liquids only. I’ll get you some porridge later.” “Surgery? What surgery?” Silence fell over the room. She didn’t know. “Answer me! What surgery?!” Her voice rose to a shriek. Mom, losing patience, walked over and ripped the blanket off. The bedsheet was flat where her calves should have been. Bella opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Tears streamed down her face. Mom wasn’t done. She took out her phone, snapped a picture of Bella’s scarred face, and shoved the screen in front of her. Bella screamed. It was a primal, horrific sound. “Shut up!” A nurse yelled from the hallway. “This is a hospital!” Bella shook her head violently. “No! Impossible! I was saved! How is this possible?!” I quietly ate my chicken leg, watching the show. Mom sneered. “You thought you’d be saved and live happily ever after? You told your father to get a new wife? Look at you now. If he gets a new wife, do you think he’ll want a burden like you?” “I can’t believe I pampered you for eighteen years just for you to wish me dead. I was blind.” Dad chimed in, eager to please Mom. “Honey, I never wanted to leave you. Bella begged me. I was heartbroken.” Mom glared at him. “I only heard Ava telling me not to give up. I only heard Ava promising to save me. Don’t take me for a fool, David.” They argued. I finished my meal. We moved into temporary government housing. Bella needed constant care. Mom refused to touch her. Dad said it was inappropriate for him. So, naturally, they looked at me. Bella seemed to enjoy bossing me around again. I wasn’t having it. One afternoon, Bella yelled that she needed the bathroom. I was outside washing dishes and pretended not to hear. Dad and Mom were out. I finished the dishes, hung the laundry, and hummed a tune. When Mom came back, she saw me working hard. “Good girl, let me help.” Thump. A loud crash from inside. We ran in. Bella had tried to crawl to the commode and fallen. She was covered in her own filth. Mom gagged and walked out. Dad came home right then. He pulled me aside. “Ava, I found a school in New York City that will take you. Pack your things.” I packed immediately. That left Mom and Bella alone in the stench. Bella screamed in shame as Mom dragged her into a plastic tub to hose her down. Mom was cursing the whole time, but she did it. A mother never truly abandons her favorite, I guess. But me? Why was I so easy to discard? Chapter 5 We moved to New York City. Dad rented a small two-bedroom apartment in Queens. Mom and Dad took the master. I got the small room. Bella slept on a cot in the living room. Bella threw tantrums daily. At first, they reasoned with her. Then, they started hitting her. I watched Bella become quiet and fearful. It felt familiar. That was my childhood. Why did she look so pained? It was just normal life for me. The new school was great. Teachers were kind, knowing I was a survivor. Without chores weighing me down, I studied voraciously. My grades skyrocketed. Every time I brought home an ‘A’, Mom praised me. So this is what being the Golden Child feels like. Bella grew silent, staring at us with dead eyes. Dad bought Bella cheap prosthetics. She cried that they hurt. “It hurts to walk,” Dad said coldly. “Deal with it or crawl.” Surprisingly, the harshness worked. Bella learned to walk again, albeit with a heavy limp. The day Bella walked across the living room, my parents’ attitude shifted. They looked at her with that old, familiar warmth. “She was always the smart one,” Dad whispered to Mom. “If she can walk, she can go to school.” I felt a chill. They were already planning to reinstate the Queen. I ignored them and focused on my books. I needed a scholarship. I needed out. Dad pulled strings and got Bella into my high school. She was a senior, I was a sophomore. But because she missed so much time, they put her in my grade. “Take care of your sister,” Mom told me. “She has special needs. Carry her bag. Get her water.” I smiled and agreed. Mom patted my head. I looked at Bella’s cot in the living room. Did she really think she could take her crown back? 6 Bella played the victim card perfectly on her first day. The tragic survivor. The brave girl. By lunch, she had a circle of friends. She told them how terrible her life was at home. How I was the spoiled favorite who ignored her suffering. People started glaring at me. Trash appeared in my desk. My textbooks were vandalized. My homework was stolen. The teacher called me in. “Ava, you’ve missed three assignments. What’s going on?” I lowered my head, saying nothing. I walked back to class. Bella was standing at the door, smirking. I walked past her to the podium. The class went silent. I picked up a piece of chalk and wrote five names on the board. “The teacher just asked why my homework is missing. Guess if I told her?” “The cameras in here work. If I report this, they’ll check the tapes.” “You think you’re justice warriors? Bullying me because of her sob stories?” “If you want to be heroes, go catch real criminals. This isn’t justice. It’s assault.” The bell rang. I erased the names slowly, making eye contact with each bully. I went to my desk. My neighbor whispered, “There’s glue on your chair.” I looked. Superglue. Bella hadn’t come back to her seat yet. I swapped our chairs. The teacher walked in with Bella. “Tests are back,” the teacher announced. “Ava Zhang. 100%. Highest in the grade.” I walked up and took my paper. “Bella Zhang.” Bella stood up, acting weak and fragile. The paper was passed back. Everyone gasped. 12%. The former small-town genius had scored a 12 in a New York City math exam. The bell rang. Everyone packed up. Except Bella. She tried to stand, but her pants were fused to the chair. I packed my bag. “Ava!” she hissed. “Help me up! Fix this!” I walked out the door. I waited in the hall to watch the show. She struggled, realized what happened, and burst into humiliated tears. The teacher had to call Mom. 7 “I entrusted my daughter to this school!” Mom screamed at the principal. “She’s disabled! She’s being bullied! Where were the teachers?!” “If my younger daughter hadn’t noticed, she would have sat there all night!” Bella tried to speak. I grabbed her arm. “Sis, let’s go to the bathroom and change.” She shoved me away. “Get off me! You did this!” The teacher had had enough. “Mrs. Zhang, let’s be real. Bella requires constant care. Ava was a straight-A student before Bella arrived. Now she’s missing assignments because she’s playing nursemaid.” “If this continues, you ruin both of them.” Mom glared at me. “Ava was always stupid. Bella is the smart one. She just needs time.” The teacher slammed the test scores on the table. “Look at the data. Ava is top 10. Bella is bottom 5.” “We suggest transferring Bella to a special education program where her needs can be met.” Mom hesitated. Bella screamed, tearing up the test paper. “No! I’m not retarded! I can do it! Give me time!” That night, I heard them arguing. Dad wanted to send her away. Mom was wavering. Bella was in the bathroom, disinfecting the bloody stumps of her legs. Mom saw her and started crying. “My poor baby. Why did this happen to you?” I sat in my room, solving calculus problems. I had to climb. Higher. Away from this sinkhole. They kept Bella in school. Mom gave her one semester to catch up. “I’ll beat her in a month,” Bella promised. She didn’t. At the end of the semester, I was ranked 5th in the grade. Bella was ranked 92nd. Mom and Dad made the call. Bella was sent to a boarding school for students with disabilities. She screamed and fought, but they dragged her away. I stood there watching as she was led through the gates. She looked back, saw me, and went feral, trying to attack me. But the orderlies held her back.

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The argument with my sister, Morgan, started on the drive to Grandma’s upstate home for the New Year holiday. It ended when she abandoned me at a highway rest stop and drove back to Harbor City alone. By the time I stumbled through the front door of the cabin, New Year’s Eve had long passed. Seeing me alone, Grandma gasped, her eyes wide with shock. “You walked all the way back? Where’s your sister?” My mind went blank. I realized, with a sickening jolt, that I had completely forgotten about the argument. Grandma’s face darkened with dread. She immediately drove me to the small clinic in town for a checkup. When the results came back, she collapsed into a chair, sobbing as she called Morgan. “You little monster! Didn’t you know your brother has brain cancer?” she choked out. “How could you leave him stranded on the highway? He walked for over twelve hours—his feet are raw!” I could hear Morgan’s cold laugh through the phone. “You two are in this together, aren’t you? Trying to con me. It’s Kai’s birthday today. There’s no way I’m driving back there.” She hung up. Grandma wailed, then slumped over, unconscious. In the ensuing chaos, I heard the doctor call my name. “Jamie,” the doctor said, his voice flat. “For your condition, surgery is useless now.” “Notify the family. You need to start making preparations.” … My breath hitched for several seconds. I stared at the doctor in a daze. I had a strange, overwhelming feeling that I’d heard those exact words not long ago. But the memory was just out of reach, frustratingly buried deep in my mind. The doctor sighed. “The brain tumor is pressing on your nerves. It’s completely normal for your memory to be unreliable.” “You have a sister, right? Call her now. From this moment on, you can’t be left alone.” My heart plummeted. A chill swept through my entire body. Grandma stirred slightly on the hospital bed, as if she sensed my panic. I quickly gripped her hand and asked the doctor, “Is Grandma really okay?” The doctor patted my shoulder in a calming gesture. “Don’t worry. Your grandmother simply passed out from emotional shock. She’ll wake up soon.” He paused, his expression solemn. “Young man, your situation is the one that’s truly serious.” I nodded numbly. As he left, I pulled my phone from my pocket. It was dead. I charged it and powered it on. A torrent of unread notifications flooded the screen—nearly a hundred missed calls. All from Grandma. She had been desperately calling for me during the twelve agonizing hours I was walking back home. My eyes welled up instantly. I scrolled through my messages, finding only a single text from Morgan. I ignored Grandma’s calls. Let me know when you actually get there. I dialed her number. The phone rang for a long time before she finally answered, her voice tight with impatience. “What is it?” I couldn’t help but shout, “You drove Grandma to collapse! Does Kai mean more to you than your own grandmother? You need to get—” Beep, beep, beep. She had hung up before I could finish my sentence. I stared at the screen in disbelief. Another text popped up from her: It’s the holidays. I don’t have time for this drama. I’ll come collect you on the sixth. My heart hammered in my chest. I called her again. The line was instantly busy. I kept trying for several frantic minutes until the truth sank in: I had been blocked. A knot of fury and despair tightened in my chest, making me tremble. Beyond angry, I snatched Grandma’s phone and tried calling. This time, it rang. She didn’t answer. I tried a second time. Grandma’s number was now blocked too. “Morgan, you monster!” I screamed, my voice cracking as tears streamed down my face. The door flew open. A nurse frowned, stepping into the room. “This is a hospital. Keep your voice down.” I wiped my face haphazardly and opened Kai’s social media. That night, he’d posted three updates. Thanks, Morgan, for coming back to celebrate with me. Everyone else is celebrating New Year’s, but I get to celebrate my birthday first! The necklace Morgan commissioned, captured by a private photographer—only two of these exist in the world. I love it! Have you ever seen a ten-tier birthday cake? My fingers clenched around the phone. My heart felt like it was being flayed alive. Tears hit the screen, blurring the text. Suddenly, Morgan’s furious voice echoed in my head: “Jamie, if you can’t manage to be civil, then just walk back to the cabin yourself!” The extreme emotion triggered a break in the fog. I finally remembered why Morgan and I had argued that morning. Days earlier, Kai had been crying, begging Morgan to stay in Harbor City to celebrate with him. Morgan was torn. Kai was an orphan, and his birthday falling on New Year’s Eve meant he never got a proper celebration. But Grandma was getting older, and the New Year was the only thing she truly looked forward to all year. Seeing her struggle, I suggested Kai join us. He refused. “That’s your family home. I would feel awkward there.” He sighed dramatically. “Besides, you and Grandma don’t like me… I can tell.” As soon as he finished speaking, Morgan glared at me, a flicker of profound displeasure in her eyes. She announced that day she wasn’t coming home; she was staying with Kai. I was shocked and spent days pleading with her. I used every argument, kind or desperate, but she held firm. Finally, Grandma blew up, and Morgan reluctantly agreed to come. But the entire drive, she wore a dark expression. I noticed her mood and cautiously tried to lighten the atmosphere. She irritably knit her brow. “Stop talking. I promised I’d go home for Grandma, and I will. Don’t worry about me leaving halfway.” I fell silent, afraid to say another word. Then Kai called, crying that he was sick and needed her. I couldn’t help myself. I snatched the phone and shouted at him, “Who are you to demand Morgan abandon Grandma for you?” The call dropped. Morgan furiously backhanded me. The slap cracked across my face. “What has Kai ever done to you that makes you despise him so much?” Stunned, my mind went blank. She didn’t spare me a single glance. She slammed the accelerator, driving to the nearest rest stop and screeching to a halt. When she spoke, her voice was hard and absolute. “This is a rest stop. You can catch a bus home from here. Get out.” Tears of betrayal and hurt streamed down my face, but I refused to move. I thought, She’s just angry. She won’t really leave me. But she saw my inaction and, without a word, got out, walked around, opened my door, and physically dragged me out of the car. “Call Grandma and tell her I’m not coming back. Don’t worry her with the details.” She released me, got back into the car, and sped off. I stood there, watching her taillights disappear, the tears falling harder and faster. For a long, long time, I stood frozen. Then, the memory vanished. I wiped my face and began the long walk home. If I hadn’t been under extreme stress, I might never have remembered. Because in my mind, the only thing I remembered was Morgan’s kindness. When I was little, a simple wish for ice cream meant she would run all over the city to find the flavor I liked. When our parents died, she held me and promised she would protect me, that I would never suffer. I still didn’t understand how we had come to this point. “Jamie…” Grandma’s raspy voice pulled me back. She was awake. Her clouded eyes searched mine, a hint of hopeful anticipation in their depths. “Your sister? Did she come?” I lowered my gaze. “Morgan didn’t answer. She must be busy.” Grandma’s face paled further. After a long silence, she asked, “When did this illness start? Why didn’t you tell me?” I gripped her hand, forcing a comforting smile. “I forgot. It’s okay, Grandma. I’ll take care of myself.” She closed her eyes, seemingly aging years in that single moment. She didn’t mention Morgan or my illness again that night. The next morning, she brought me home. She cooked a quick pot of pasta, then immediately started packing. She insisted we needed to go find Morgan. I didn’t want to go back to Harbor City. I held onto her, begging her to stay. Grandma’s expression hardened. “I have to ask Morgan what she’s thinking.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “And your illness—you need treatment in the city. The facilities here are not good enough!” So, we drove back to Harbor City. We opened the door to the high-end condo. Morgan wasn’t home. Kai was standing in front of a mirror, admiring the vibrant jade pendant around his neck. When he saw us, he immediately crossed his arms. “What, you can’t manage a holiday without Morgan, so you came crawling back?” I bristled. “Kai, show some respect to my grandmother!” “Respect? Why? If this old woman hadn’t forced Morgan to come back in the first place, I wouldn’t have had to fake being sick to get her back.” Kai sneered. “Are you here to start a fight?” “Too bad. Morgan is out buying me clothes. Come back later.” His arrogant, entitled attitude ignited Grandma’s temper. She pointed a trembling finger at him. “This is Morgan and Jamie’s home. Get out!” “You get out, you old woman!” Kai’s eyes narrowed, his gaze predatory and cruel. “You chose to stay in that dusty old cabin, and now you’re back. What, decided city life is better? You don’t want the ‘hard life’ anymore?” He laughed, a sharp, unpleasant sound. “Morgan works so hard to earn money, and she still has to send you money every year. Why should she?” My pupils constricted. I clenched my fists, shaking with disbelief. Grandma was panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly. None of us expected Kai to be this brazenly awful. Seeing Grandma getting hysterical, I quickly ushered her to a chair. I then stormed over to Kai and swung my hand, landing a solid slap on his cheek. CRACK! Kai staggered back, stunned. “This is my house. You’re nothing but a charity case Morgan decided to fund. You call her ‘sister,’ but you are not a part of this family.” I yelled, ready to hit him again. He wasn’t going to just stand there. He grabbed my wrist, and we lunged at each other. “You little bastard! Don’t think being blood relatives means anything! Morgan likes me better!” Kai bit out, grabbing a handful of my hair. I kicked him in the kidney. He grabbed a heavy water glass from the counter and smashed it down on my head. BANG! “Jamie!” Grandma’s scream sliced through the air at the same time as the glass shattering. Dazed, a warm liquid streamed down my forehead, blurring my vision. My head spun, and I collapsed to the floor. Glass fragments dug into my palm. Strangely, I felt no pain in my hand, only a searing, piercing pressure, like steel needles being driven into my skull. Through the haze, I saw Grandma and Kai grappling. Grandma managed to land a few desperate slaps on him, and he finally shoved her hard. THUD! The sound was sickeningly loud. Grandma’s body hit the floor, her limbs twitching once, then going completely still. My body was numb. I wiped the blood from my eyes with my sleeve and struggled to focus. A slow, crimson pool was spreading beneath Grandma’s white hair. “I didn’t mean to!” “You old hag, why are you faking it? You attacked me first!” Kai’s voice was suddenly frantic. I gasped, crawling on my hands and knees toward Grandma. I touched her head. A jagged piece of glass was buried deep in the back of her skull. It scraped my finger, but I barely registered the pain. I drew a ragged, desperate breath, then let out a horrifying, agonizing scream. “Grandma—!” The front door opened. Morgan, loaded down with luxury shopping bags, froze at the sight. Her face went slack, her smile instantly vanishing. “Grandma!” Morgan shrieked, dropping her bags and stumbling toward us. When she saw the glass shard in Grandma’s head, her pupils shrank to pinpricks. She grabbed my wrist and screamed at me. “What is going on? Why did you bring Grandma back without telling me?” My vision was swimming. My mind went blank again—the familiar, terrifying feeling of weightlessness. More blood dripped down my temple. Morgan’s face went white. Her eyelashes fluttered. “Jamie, what did you do to yourself?” She released my hand and cupped my head, checking my wound. Kai, tears streaming down his face, sounded utterly pitiful. “Morgan, he’s gone crazy! I tried to hand him a glass of water, and he smashed it into his own head, and he hit me! Grandma tried to stop him, but she slipped on the broken glass…” Morgan’s hands stilled. Her face turned to stone. “Jamie, is that the truth?” “I don’t remember…” My voice was a choked sob. I was hyperventilating, desperately trying to catch my breath. I didn’t remember. I didn’t know what had happened moments ago. How could this be? Why was this happening? “It’s the holidays! Why are you always making a scene!” Morgan roared, her face iron-hard. “If anything happens to Grandma, I will never forgive you!” Before I could react, she shoved me aside. She picked up Grandma and rushed out the door toward the hospital. Kai stood over me, looking down. “See? No matter what I say, Morgan believes me.” He flashed me a chilling, triumphant smile. “Jamie, I think your grandmother is already dead.” “You killed her!” I looked up sharply, a cold terror shooting through me. “No, that’s not right. How could I have killed Grandma?” I mumbled, shaking my head mechanically. Kai scoffed and walked out the door. After he left, the house felt terrifyingly empty. The silence was absolute. My mind fixated on a single thought: I did not kill Grandma. After what felt like an eternity, a thought flashed into my mind. I scrambled up, shaking, and found a chair. I climbed up and ran my hand along the top of the living room pendant light. A moment later, my breath caught. A small pinhole camera was now clenched in my fist. I had installed it two months ago. When I was diagnosed with the brain tumor, the doctor warned me about the memory loss and suggested I install a camera at home. I followed his advice, then immediately forgot about it. I never imagined it would be needed today. Clutching the camera, I headed to the hospital. In the corridor, I saw Morgan hunched over, weeping hysterically. Kai was beside her, murmuring comforting words. “Morgan, don’t cry. Grandma is gone, but you still have me…” BOOM— My head went blank again. The familiar, crushing sense of void washed over me. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. Morgan heard the sound. Her eyes, bloodshot and swollen, fixed on me with raw, surging hatred. She got up and walked over, slapping me without hesitation. “This is all your fault! Why did you bring Grandma back? Why did you argue with Kai?” Her voice was choked with fury. “It was just a few days! Why couldn’t you be sensible?” “Grandma is dead. Are you happy now?” The slap burned. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. I tried to speak, but no sound came out. What was I here for? And how could Grandma be dead? Tears of confusion and helplessness poured down my face. I vaguely knew I had forgotten something crucial, but I couldn’t grasp it. The harder I tried, the worse the headache got, and the more I cried. “You have the nerve to cry?” Morgan’s voice trembled with rage. She pulled a small gift box from her pocket and threw it at me. “I was thinking of you. When I bought Kai’s birthday present, I bought one for you too.” “Jamie, you don’t deserve my kindness!” The box hit the floor and shattered, revealing a delicate jade pendant identical to Kai’s. Just as I reached for it, Morgan stomped her foot down on the pendant. “You are forbidden from attending the funeral!” “Jamie, you are no longer my brother!” I looked up in shock, but she had already turned and walked away. Kai stood over me, a smug, cruel smile on his face. “You deserve it.” He bent down, scooped up the broken pendant from the floor, pocketed it, and hurried after Morgan. A sudden, sharp pain flared in my palm. I looked down. I had crushed the corner of the small pinhole camera. I realized with a jolt that I had, once again, forgotten what I was supposed to do. People passed in the corridor, their eyes full of judgment and pity. I buried my face in my hands, sobbing in utter despair. Why did I have this disease? Why did it steal my memories, denying me even a chance to explain? A desperate voice inside me screamed that I couldn’t wait. The funeral could wait. The truth couldn’t. To prevent myself from forgetting again, I prepared two ways to get the video out. First, I pulled out my phone and emailed the security camera footage of Kai pushing Grandma to the Harbor City Police Department’s official email address. Then, I slowly got up and started walking toward the police station. The truth, however, proved my fears right. After leaving the hospital, I didn’t go to the police station. Instead, I got on the bus going back to the old cabin. I was fixated on the belief that Grandma was waiting for me there. If I just went back, I would see her again. The bus slowly pulled away from Harbor City. By the time I opened the front door of the cabin, it was evening again. The house was cold and empty. A single plate of cold, congealed pastas sat on the table. I vaguely remembered those were the ones Grandma had left for Morgan. Suddenly, I felt my soul draining away. My vision went black. As I collapsed, my exclusive ringtone for Morgan started blaring from my phone. It was a warm melody, but now it sounded frantic and jarring. I didn’t even have the strength to answer. I closed my eyes.

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After my boyfriend bought a new car, he suddenly got a “commuter buddy.” He drove her to work and back, rain or shine. This “buddy” also started decorating the car interior like she owned it. She put her favorite air fresheners in the car, threw away the flats I kept in the passenger seat, and replaced them with her size. One stormy day, I waited alone at my office entrance for an hour before my boyfriend leisurely drove up with his “buddy.” The girl sat in the passenger seat, smiling as she apologized to me: “Sorry, sis, I eat slowly and delayed your boyfriend from picking you up. Please don’t be mad.” Before I could speak, my boyfriend affectionately flicked her forehead: “Sarah is very mature, unlike you, needing to be coaxed just to eat. You’re like a child who won’t grow up.” 1 It was storming, lightning and thunder crashing outside. I stood at the entrance of my office building, anxiously waiting for my boyfriend, Ethan, to pick me up. In this extreme weather, Uber and Lyft were impossible to get. Colleagues around me were complaining about wait times of at least half an hour. With my car in the shop for maintenance, I suddenly felt grateful that I had bought a car for Ethan last month. At least in this moment, it was coming in handy. I waited and waited. Colleagues around me left one after another until I was the only one left. Finally, Ethan’s car leisurely approached from the distance. The window rolled down, and Ethan said to me, “Sarah, sorry for the wait.” Saying that, he unlocked the back door for me. “Hop in.” I leaned forward and realized there was already a girl with long hair and a round face sitting in the passenger seat. The rain was getting heavier, so I had to bend down and sit in the back, closing my umbrella as I got in. “Hey, water, water, water,” the girl in the passenger seat turned around, pointing at my closed umbrella, frowning as she reminded me, “Please put the umbrella directly by the door when you close it, otherwise the rain will get everywhere. This car was just bought a month ago, the seats are real leather.” Her tone, as if she were the owner, annoyed me. I’ve always been straightforward, so I looked at her with amusement. “Miss, this is my boyfriend’s car. Even if it gets soaked, it’s our business. What are you worried about?” The girl looked a bit embarrassed. Ethan quickly got in the car and admonished me, “She just cherishes our car and gave a kind reminder. Don’t be so fierce to her.” I looked at him. “So she is?” “Oh, her,” Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt. “I mentioned her to you. My commuter buddy, Zoe. Zoe works at my company and happens to live in our complex. Since it’s on the way, I give her a ride. Just doing a good deed.” Cars behind us were honking like crazy. Ethan was a bit rushed, but his seatbelt wouldn’t click in. Zoe leaned over and thoughtfully helped him buckle it. Only then did she turn sideways, smiling as she apologized to me, “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I shouldn’t have been this late. It’s all my fault for eating slowly and delaying your boyfriend from picking you up. Please don’t be mad.” “What are you thinking?” Ethan controlled the steering wheel with one hand and knocked her forehead with the other. “Sarah is much more mature than you. Unlike a certain ‘Little Chubby Zoe,’ who needs to be coaxed just to eat.” “I just didn’t have an appetite because of my period today,” Zoe retorted, reaching out to ruffle Ethan’s hair. “And I’ve told you so many times, don’t call me that in front of outsiders. I’m not chubby!” 2 Zoe indeed wasn’t fat. Just a bit of baby fat, making her look very naive and cute. When she puffed up her cheeks, Ethan even took the opportunity to pinch her face. The two of them flirted like no one else was there. I zoned out for a moment, savoring Zoe’s word “outsider.” Yes, right now I truly felt like an outsider. Oh no, “clown” would be more accurate. After Ethan got the car, I heard him mention his commuter buddy. “Sarah, no time for breakfast, I’m leaving first. Little Chubby Zoe is waiting for me at the gate.” “Little Chubby is getting off work late today, I’ll wait for her a bit, so I’ll be home late.” “Babe, Little Chubby Zoe from our company praised your sandwiches today, said she wants to taste your cooking again. Can you make an extra portion tomorrow?” Little Chubby, Little Chubby Zoe. I never thought this nickname would belong to a girl. For the past month, Ethan willingly acted as her free chauffeur. Picking up and dropping off Zoe every day, more punctual than Uber. Even in such terrible weather today, knowing I was waiting for him in the cold wind, he waited for Zoe to finish eating in the cafeteria before leisurely driving his commuter buddy to pick up me, his girlfriend. 3 Seeing my silence, Ethan asked with concern, “Sarah, why aren’t you talking?” “Sarah, are you frozen speechless?” Zoe also tilted her head, looking at me innocently. “On the way here, I checked the weather. It’s freezing today, and raining. In such cold weather, please don’t catch a cold, or I’ll feel guilty to death.” As soon as she finished speaking, I sneezed. “Really frozen?” Ethan observed my face through the rearview mirror, nagging incessantly. “You, your health is getting worse and worse. Just a little wind and you’re like this. I tell you to run with me every morning, but you’re never willing.” “I have Vitamin C here.” Zoe quickly took out a box of Vitamin C from her bag and handed it back to me. “Here, Ethan bought this for me. He said it boosts immunity. Sarah, take two quickly.” Ethan was a health nut and did have a habit of morning runs. When we first moved to this complex, Ethan was enthusiastic about asking me to run in the morning, but I refused every time with the excuse of sleeping in. Later, he just gave up. Every change of season, I caught colds easily, so Ethan would often stock up on Vitamin C for me. A few days ago, the vitamins at home ran out. I stared expressionlessly at the exquisitely packaged vitamins Zoe handed me. The Vitamin C Ethan bought for me was always the cheapest generic bottle from the pharmacy, two dollars a pop. I once complained it was too cheap, but he said cheap was enough, and expensive ones were just overpriced scams for fools. But what he bought for Zoe was imported stuff costing nearly a hundred dollars a bottle. Hmm, so my boyfriend is willing to be someone else’s fool? 4 I didn’t take the vitamins, but looked around. My gaze fell on the cushions. I like minimalist style. The solid-colored cushions originally in the car had all been replaced with blue Stitch cushions. I frowned and asked, “Where are the solid-colored cushions I bought?” “Those…” Ethan coughed lightly. “They’re all in the trunk.” Zoe said in surprise, “Huh? Were those cushions bought by you, Sarah? They were so ugly, I thought the dealership gave them away. I just threw them in the trash yesterday.” …Turns out people really laugh when they are speechless. I had been busy with work lately and hadn’t used this car. Until this moment, I didn’t realize the car’s interior had completely changed. In front of the passenger seat that originally belonged to me, Zoe had stuck a cartoon air freshener, emitting a cheap perfume smell. The charm I hung on the rearview mirror was wrapped with a colorful hair tie that didn’t belong to me. Even the nickname of the car system was changed from “Sarah’s Car” to “Ethan & Zoe’s Car.” The interior, changed beyond recognition, displayed the taste of Ethan’s commuter buddy everywhere. And I looked like an outsider hitching a ride. 5 Just then, Zoe looked at the GPS and pouted, complaining, “Traffic jams on rainy days are so annoying, especially detouring to pick someone up. Sitting in the car makes me want to change out of my heels.” Ethan naturally replied, “Then change. Aren’t your flats in the back?” Zoe nodded, pointing behind her seat and saying to me, “Sarah, pass me the flats behind this seat.” Following her direction, I saw a pair of white flats. My face instantly turned colder. “Where are the black flats I originally put here?” “Oh my, were those shoes yours, Sarah?” Zoe was surprised again. “I was wondering when a pair of such big and old-fashioned shoes appeared here. So sorry, Sarah, I accidentally threw those away too. How about I ask Ethan to buy you an identical pair?” Good, very good. I wanted to endure until we got home and then settle accounts with Ethan. But I never expected someone could be this shameless! If I could tolerate this, I’d change my last name to hers! “Change shoes, right?” I snatched two tissues from the box, bent down, and picked up those shoes as if picking up trash. Then I smashed them hard onto Zoe. “Fine, change! Change them!” “Ah—” Zoe screamed. Dodging, her face was scratched by the pointed toe of the shoe. Zoe immediately covered her wound in a panic. “Zoe!” Seeing this, Ethan stopped the car abruptly and leaned over to Zoe anxiously. “Are you hurt? Let me see.” Zoe moved her hand away from her face tearfully. “Ethan, am I disfigured? Boohoo, it hurts.” Seeing the scratch on Zoe’s chin, Ethan turned his head furiously to look at me. “Sarah, what do you want? Zoe just asked you to pass her shoes, why did you go crazy for no reason!” 5 (Continued) Without a word, I grabbed everything within reach and smashed it at Ethan, one after another. “Pass shoes, right? I’ve grown this big and haven’t even passed shoes to my own mother. What is she to deserve me passing her shoes? “I really gave you too much face, letting you two dance around in my car!” I paid for this car for Ethan. Last month, Ethan found a new job. Because he was still on probation, working 996 (9am-9pm, 6 days/week) was very hard. I felt sorry for him, so I paid for a new electric vehicle for him. New EVs have city driving assist and camping modes. Originally, I thought having this car would make his commute easier. And during lunch breaks, he could have a private space to rest. But I never expected he would turn around and find a commuter buddy, not only being inseparable every day but also letting this buddy play the green tea bitch (act innocent but manipulative) in front of me and show off. Seeing I was still relentless, Ethan raised an arm to shield Zoe, raising his voice. “Are you done yet? In the end, we are just commuting together, that’s all. “And I met her on the road twenty days ago. Seeing a little girl looking pitiful, I invited her to commute with me. She didn’t even ask for it!” Hearing this, I stopped and calmly picked up my bag that had fallen by the seat. “Oh, so just commuting together. Then make her get the hell out of the car now. She’s an eyesore.” “It’s raining outside. Do you have to make it difficult for a little girl?” Ethan said calmly. “Starting tomorrow, I promise she won’t be on my commute anymore.” “It’s raining outside, so what?” I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “This is my car. Do I need to pick a lucky day to make an outsider get the hell out of my car?” Zoe, shielded behind Ethan, seemed angry. “Sarah, I heard from Ethan that you are five or six years older than us, almost thirty. “I don’t know if your menopause came early. “But if it really came early, take your meds. I’m not your punching bag.”

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On the twentieth day of Bella Sterling’s silent treatment, she posted an Instagram story holding hands with the school’s star quarterback, fingers interlaced. I silently changed my college application from our hometown university to one in Seattle, thousands of miles away. At a party, her friend teased, “Leo, if you don’t start groveling, Bella’s really going to date someone else.” I whispered a small apology. Bella smirked. “Whatever. Go back and pack your bags. We’re heading to campus together tomorrow for orientation.” I mumbled an agreement. Bella didn’t know I had already bought a train ticket to Seattle for tonight. 1 I am the son of the Sterling family’s housekeeper. When I was seven, I moved into the small room on the first floor of their estate. My job was to take care of Bella Sterling’s every need. For ten whole years, she became a mission carved into my bones. I was obedient and docile. Mrs. Sterling often praised me. But Bella hated me. The first time we met, she stood on the grand staircase in a white princess dress, looking like a porcelain doll. I wore dusty jeans with holes in the knees, staring blankly at everything. The disgust in her eyes was unmistakable. Mrs. Sterling introduced me. “This is Leo Hart, Mrs. Hart’s son. His father ran off, and they have nowhere to go, so they’re staying with us.” She turned and went upstairs without a word. Mrs. Sterling told me my job was to look after Bella. My mom also warned me that the Sterling family was special and it wasn’t easy for us to stay. “Speak less, do more, and never make Bella angry.” I knew Bella didn’t like me, so to survive here, I tried to make myself invisible. Every day, I quietly organized her clothes and cleaned her room. For the first three months, Bella didn’t say a word to me. That year, she got sick. Mrs. Sterling was in a bad mood and traveling abroad. The family doctor prescribed medicine, but she still coughed all night. I remembered the pear and peppercorn soup my grandma used to make me. When I brought it to her, Bella looked at it with utter disdain. “Leo Hart, are you trying to poison me with some weird country remedy?” I said timidly, “It’s not poison. This pear soup is good for coughing.” Bella looked annoyed. “If it doesn’t work, will you get the hell out of my house?” I froze, standing aside, afraid to breathe. Bella scoffed and drank it. The next morning, her cough was better. 2 Before elementary school registration, my mom found me a boarding school. It was far away, meaning I could only come back on weekends. I was relieved. Away from the Sterling house, my mom wouldn’t be in a difficult position, and I wouldn’t have to face Bella’s moods. But while I was packing, my mom ran to me, out of breath. Mrs. Sterling wanted me to go to the same private elementary school as Bella. So I could take care of her at school. I whispered, “Can I not go?” My mom grabbed my shoulders. “Leo, are you stupid? Bella’s school is the best in the city. People would kill to get in.” I looked down and said nothing. 3 From then on, I became Bella’s shadow. I followed Bella from elementary school through high school. Getting her lunch, carrying her backpack, doing her homework. Everyone knew I was the tail she couldn’t shake. In middle school, she made a bunch of friends. I was the tail lagging far behind the group. Always monitoring Bella’s mood, Bella’s needs. Her friends said I was her loyal admirer. If Bella told me to go North, I wouldn’t dare go South. The only constant was Bella’s disdain for me. In ninth grade, Bella went out and stained her favorite dress. She dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night to hand-wash it. I was wearing only boxers, blushing furiously. Bella scoffed unnaturally, “With a body like that, who’d want to look?” Teenage insecurity quietly took root. Junior year of high school, the academic pressure was immense. I was drowning in practice exams day and night. On a whim, Bella wanted to eat my cooking. She made me cook dinner every night and pack it for her lunch the next day. I would finish my homework, cook for her until midnight, and wake up early to wait for her to go to school. At noon, I would heat the food and bring it to her. Her friend hugged her and said, “Nice, Bella. Your little house-husband cooks for you.” Bella’s face turned cold instantly. She tossed the food I heated to her desk mate like it was garbage. I said nothing, waited for them to finish, washed the lunch box, and went back to my practice exams. That year, I hit a growth spurt. My gym shorts became too tight. But I couldn’t skip class. I wasn’t Bella. During gym, she rested on the other side of the court, and the teacher said nothing. When I ran, my tight shorts attracted whistles. I slowed down involuntarily. Chloe Vance from the next class passed by and handed me her uniform jacket. It caused a stir. I had seen her at the opening ceremony. Her family’s business was famous. She was gentle, polite, and top of the class in both looks and grades. “Wear it. You still have half a mile to run.” I hesitated but took it. Later, a rumor spread that I was shameless, trying to seduce Chloe by wearing her jacket. In the front row, Bella kicked her desk hard. Bang. Everyone shut up. That night, Bella didn’t wait for me. She said since I was so capable, I should ask Chloe to drive me home. I sighed and took out change for the bus. Unexpectedly, Chloe was on the bus too. She was quietly listening to vocabulary tapes and waved at me. I sat next to her. Chloe took off her headphones. I knew the jacket incident caused her trouble too, so I whispered an apology. Chloe smiled indifferently. “Leo, ignore the rumors. Just focus on studying. “College entrance exams are in two and a half years. Have you thought about where you want to go?” Chloe had a pure, beautiful look, completely different from Bella’s cold arrogance. I was stunned. Which university did I want to go to? I had never thought about it. I only thought about how to improve my scores. I didn’t have money for cram school. My mom borrowed Bella’s notes for me. I had to admit Bella was smarter than me. She understood things instantly. I needed repeated practice to understand. Her notes were very helpful. My mom told me to apply to wherever Bella applied. Her family had money and resources; her choice wouldn’t be wrong. I didn’t know which university Bella would choose. Chloe smiled faintly. “Think about it. The school you really want to go to.” When I got home, my mom said Bella wouldn’t be back for dinner. She asked where she went. I shook my head and said I didn’t know. Bella came back in the early hours of the morning. Her expression was cold, and there was some blood on her hand. She glanced at me indifferently and went upstairs. I whispered asking if she needed medicine. Bella didn’t answer and went upstairs. I continued researching different universities online. This was the first time. I clearly felt that I could leave Bella and have a place I truly wanted to go. Later, I asked my mom uneasily if she ever thought about leaving the Sterling family. After all, we couldn’t live here forever. She was a bit lost too, saying she had been working for the Sterlings since divorcing my dad. Although Bella had a weird temper sometimes, Mrs. Sterling was easy to get along with. Over the years, I never saw Bella’s father in the villa. I only knew from fragments of information that Bella’s family company was huge, and her father was busy. Her parents had a loveless marriage of convenience. After she was born, her father got a girlfriend. Mrs. Sterling raised Bella, but she traveled often besides working, leaving my mom to look after the house. My mom said she planned to work until I graduated college, then take the money to start a small business. I asked if she considered leaving after I graduated high school. She silently patted my head and said nothing. 4 After the jacket incident, Bella tortured me every night in different ways. Fetching water, organizing her desk. Changing sheets, hand-washing new clothes. I could only be thankful that my room was far from my mom’s, so she wouldn’t worry. If Bella didn’t sleep, I couldn’t sleep. I had to keep moving in front of her. A few times, I fell asleep from exhaustion. I woke up on the sofa in Bella’s room. By the time I got up, Bella was gone. I took the bus back and forth, which took longer, but I felt lighter. I wished I could offend Bella completely so she would ignore me forever. Currently impossible, of course. I could only use studying as an excuse to stop spending time pleasing her. A week later, Bella had an aerobics competition. Usually, I would buy drinks and prepare her clothes. This time I didn’t go. I memorized vocabulary in the classroom. My mom called, saying Bella was in a bad mood. Mrs. Sterling asked me to take care of her and ordered boba tea to the basketball court for me to pick up. I took the boba and sat on the sidelines. Some classmates were laughing and discussing. “See? I told you he couldn’t resist. Bella ignores him, and he panics.” “A simp has to know his place. He pretended for a few days but couldn’t hold it.” I said nothing. On the court, Bella moved gracefully, drawing cheers. After finishing, she gave me a deep look, signaling me to distribute the boba. I gave it to the others first. The last cup was for Bella. She leaned back on her hands, looking at me with a nasty gaze. I handed her the boba, facing everyone’s mockery. I whispered, “Bella, your boba.” Bella didn’t look at me, her tone casual. “Bring it here. I sprained my hand. It hurts.” I put the straw in and handed it to her. Bella lowered her head and took two sips. Her friends whistled at her. She smiled indifferently. I really didn’t understand why she did this. Until I turned around and saw Chloe sitting opposite us. Was she competing with Chloe? Both had good family backgrounds. Both were top tier in looks and grades. Comparison was inevitable. I didn’t expect Bella, who never paid attention to others, to start noticing Chloe. I didn’t think too much and, following Bella’s instructions, held the boba to her lips. At least if Bella was in a good mood, she wouldn’t torment me, and I could sleep.

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I sat in the corner of the bar, staring at the blurred faces under the dim, smoky light, and felt like the biggest fool in Veridian City. All it took was one hushed line: “The real reason the Pete-Davies wedding was postponed? Pete’s ex got kidnapped. He dropped everything—even his wedding—to save her.” And I actually flew here, to this grimy, neon-lit corner of New Orleans, just to see if it was true. Pete Hawthorne. The city’s golden boy. The kind of man who belonged on the cover of Forbes, the kind of philanthropist who gave measured, eloquent speeches at charity galas. How could he possibly be found in a place like this? I was preparing to leave, my glass half-empty, when— “Bang!” A gunshot ripped through the music. … The bar door slammed open. Two men covered in blood stumbled in, collapsing onto the sticky floor. “Pete!” one of them yelled, clutching his arm. “You went clean a decade ago! You break your vow for a woman today? Don’t you fear divine retribution?” Pete stood in the doorway. He looked down at the mess, his voice low and utterly cold. “I do fear it,” he admitted. “I swore I’d stay out of the blood and shadows. I was going to be a legitimate businessman.” He took a step into the light. “But you knew Quinn was mine, and you still touched her. Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you?” The man standing there was utterly foreign to me. The bar had gone silent, yet a ringing started in my ears, drowning out the sudden, dreadful quiet. “Quinn doesn’t play by the rules! She shut down three of our operations!” The leader spat the words out, fierce with pain. “Pete, you’re helping a criminal! Causing all this chaos for that woman! Aren’t you afraid your journalist fiancée will hear about this?” Pete gave no answer. He simply raised a hand. His security detail surged forward. A few dull thuds, and the confrontation was over. “Send these three to Quinn,” he ordered to the man beside him. As he turned to leave, his gaze swept across the room and paused momentarily near my dark corner. I thought, for a desperate second, that he saw me. But then a man rushed up to him, reporting urgently: “Quinn’s awake, sir, but she’s hysterical. She’s got a piece of broken glass and is threatening to hurt herself.” Pete’s eyes instantly moved away. He didn’t look back as he strode quickly out the door. The music stuttered back on. The dancers in the center of the room began to sway again. Only I remained rooted to my spot, watching the doorway where Pete had vanished, an absolute chill settling over me. “Miss, are you alright?” the bartender asked kindly. I shook my head silently. The bartender chuckled, wiping down a glass. “First time here? It’s normal to be shocked. Haven’t seen the boss—Pete, I mean—make that kind of entrance in years. We all thought the story was over between him and Quinn. Guess not.” My fingers tightened around my empty glass. “The story?” “Yeah, them.” He sighed. “Quinn and Pete. They were practically inseparable in the old days, fought their way through the worst of the city’s underworld together. He went straight because of her, they shared the whole territory. Only problem is, they were too damn proud. Had a huge fight, nobody backed down, and he left and never came back. Now she’s in trouble, and he blows off his society wedding to come save her.” My throat felt constricted. The bartender leaned down, rummaging under the counter, and pulled out a faded, dog-eared photo. “See? We still have this. It was taken the night he proposed. Perfect match, right?” In the center of the photograph, Pete knelt on one knee. He wore a simple black T-shirt, but the confidence and recklessness of his youth still radiated from the image. He was looking up at Quinn, his smile wide, untamed, and utterly defiant. He was a world away from the “Mr. Hawthorne” I knew—the one whose shirt buttons were always secured to the top, whose cuffs were never wrinkled, whose smile was measured and brief. I looked at the woman’s face… I snatched my gaze away, my hand trembling as I held the glass. The bartender’s eyes flickered between my face and the photo. “You know, you and Quinn look a little alike, actually. But the vibe is completely different. She’s all edge and fire. You look like a professor.” I sat there all night, nearly self-destructively, listening to the bartender recount the legendary history of Pete and Quinn. Only then did the awful realization hit me: this is how he loves. Wildly, possessively, all in. Not like he loved me—politely, gently, and never, ever from the heart. Daylight was just breaking as I left the back alley. My phone vibrated. It was my father, Mr. Davies. The instant I answered, his furious interrogation assaulted me. “How could you be so useless?! You chase a man for three years, and on the day of your wedding, you let him abandon you? You’ve made a fool of the Davies name!” “Get Pete back and complete this wedding, or I swear, I’ll disown you!” “I’m not doing it.” I hung up, cutting off his torrent of curses. As I crossed the street, I saw a corner diner. Through the window, Pete and Quinn sat by the glass. Quinn’s dark hair was loose, and she was sipping slowly from a bowl. Pete was meticulously tearing up a beignet—the New Orleans version of you tiao—into small, manageable pieces on her plate, then pushing it toward her. It was the easy, thoughtless intimacy of years. I suddenly remembered when I had a terrible flu last year. I called Pete, miserable, and got only a cool, professional instruction to rest. His assistant brought the soup and medication later. I had defended him then: He’s focused on his career; I should be the understanding one. I landed in Veridian City and went straight to the newspaper’s office. “Al, I’ve finished collating the final draft on the Hawthorne Group’s suspected profit manipulation.” “Calla?” Al looked up from his computer. “Weren’t you on a week’s wedding leave? It’s only day two…” “Work first.” I handed him another document and slid it across his desk. “This is a fellowship application. Headquarters has an exchange program with the LSE in London. I want to go.” Al’s gaze moved from the application to my left hand resting on the table’s edge. My ring finger was bare. The platinum wedding band was gone. He understood instantly, and signed the form without a word. “The company already wanted you to go. With your talent, expanding your horizons will solidify your place in investigative journalism.” I managed a faint smile. “Thank you.” I buried myself in the mountainous pile of documents all day, not surfacing until the ache in my lower back finally broke my concentration. My phone screen was a tapestry of unread messages. A string of increasingly angry texts and missed calls from my father. Worried queries from friends. And one brief message from Pete. I locked the screen and left the building, turning into the familiar alleyway beside the office. The Crescent City Diner’s neon sign glowed a warm yellow. “Miss Davies! You’re here!” The owner, a sweet, middle-aged woman, smiled. “Just you today? Mr. Hawthorne isn’t joining?” “He’s busy.” I walked to our usual booth. “The usual, please.” The diner was quiet. Soon, a large bowl of seafood gumbo was placed before me. The white steam rushed upward, blurring my vision. For a moment, I imagined Pete sitting across from me, just as he had on our first official date. That night, my elaborate plan to impress him had fallen apart. I’d missed our reservation at the city’s fanciest rooftop restaurant because I was chasing a breaking story until midnight. Defeated, I pulled out my phone, and his message popped up first: Done working? Send me your location. He was still waiting. The only place open was this late-night diner. Our perfect first date ended here, imperfectly. Later, it became our spot. I used to think that a man of his stature, sitting on a plastic chair in a late-night diner for me, must have some feeling. Now I knew the truth was written on the menu: the gumbo recipe was an exact duplicate of a legendary, decades-old New Orleans spot—the one he and Quinn used to frequent when they were younger. It was a memory of another person, not a courtesy to me. My stomach turned. I forced myself to eat a few spoonfuls. The wooden door was kicked open. A blast of cold air, followed by a few thuggish-looking men, entered. The one in front had bleached-blond hair. “Old man, you’re the only one on this block who hasn’t paid, right?” The few remaining customers fled. In a blink, I was the only patron left. Seeing the place empty, the blond man smirked. “Smash it up.” Tables flipped, dishes shattered. The owner and the chef were shoved aside, and the men closed in, ready to strike. “Stop.” I stood up and pulled out my press credentials. “I’m a journalist. If you continue, your photos will be on tomorrow’s front page.” “Another brave one, huh?” The blond man narrowed his eyes, walking slowly toward me, his gaze slimy. “Pretty face. But before you get involved, you should worry about saving yourself.” “Stay away from me.” My voice was ice. “Feisty, too.” He reached out to touch me. I violently slapped his hand away. “Crack!” The sharp sound echoed through the wreckage. The shop went silent. The man stood there, his face stinging, a red print blooming on his cheek. “Dammit, you asked for this!” He snarled, raising his hand high, ready to slap me back. “That’s enough.” A deep, measured voice came from the doorway. Simultaneously, the blond man’s arm was seized and twisted behind his back. Two men in suits appeared, flanking a third man in a dark overcoat: Pete. He surveyed the chaos, his gaze finally resting on me, pausing for a brief, unsettling moment. The situation instantly reversed. The blond man and his thugs were handed over to the police. The owners, tearful, thanked Pete and me profusely. Pete’s expression was remote. “Send them to the hospital for a check-up,” he ordered his assistant. The diner fell silent again. The late-night breeze made me shiver, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself. An overcoat, still warm, draped gently over my shoulders. Pete stood beside me, his voice softer than before. “Let me take you home.” I stayed still, staring at the shattered ceramic pieces on the floor. “Are you angry?” Pete asked quietly. “The wedding… it was my fault.” “I’m not angry.” I cut him off, finally preparing to say the words that had been churning in my throat. But a cold, sharp female voice intervened. “Pete, you rushed all the way back just to see her?” I turned around. It was the first time I met Quinn. Pete’s brow furrowed. “Why aren’t you resting your injuries?” “Mind your own business.” Quinn scoffed. “You obviously don’t care. You’re too busy playing the hero here.” He walked two steps toward her, speaking gently, persuasively. “Don’t be difficult. You’re not well. I’m having someone take you back.” That gentle, real tenderness was a spark of the man I never knew. I said nothing, turning and walking away alone. The next morning, the wedding planner called. “Miss Davies, I’m sorry to bother you. The valuable items for your and Mr. Hawthorne’s wedding are still in the hotel vault. Do you have a moment to collect them?” I rubbed my temple. “Could you please mail them?” Her tone was difficult. “Miss Davies, the value is quite high. Hotel policy requires the couple to confirm and collect these types of items personally.” I paused. “Fine. I’ll come.” The manager, a young woman, greeted me with a professional, sympathetic smile. “Miss Davies, please follow me.” In the vault, the centerpiece was the pair of diamond rings. They flashed under the light. Pete had bought the pink diamond at auction, saying the color suited my sophisticated elegance. I had secretly rejoiced for weeks over the gesture. Next to them were the two gowns. The train of my dress was hand-embroidered with complex French Lily-of-the-Valley patterns. Pete had them flown in from Paris. I actually preferred Baby’s Breath. The matching jewelry, the veil… everything was immensely valuable. The manager spoke with genuine pity, but I merely stared at the items. “Oh, and this, too.” The manager copied a video file onto a tablet and handed it to me. “This is the ‘How Well Do You Know Your Partner’ video we recorded. The planner said it was wonderful and was going to be played during the warm-up.” I stared blankly, just remembering the segment. The planner had asked us five questions to test our synchronicity, the answers to be revealed at the reception. “Thank you.” I reached for it. But someone bumped the tablet, and the large screen immediately lit up. The video began to play. Pete appeared on the screen. He sat in a warmly decorated interview room, wearing a simple white T-shirt—a rare, casual look for him. The planner’s lively voice filled the room: “Mr. Hawthorne, ready? Question one: When was the very first moment you fell for Miss Davies?” Pete seemed to pause. “That’s a question Calla and I might answer differently. Because she didn’t see me that time.” “Oh?” the planner pressed. “Can you tell us? Was she incredibly beautiful? Love at first sight?” Pete gave a light, dismissive laugh. He shook his head. “No, she didn’t look beautiful at all. She was actually a bit of a mess. Her hair was tangled, and she had a nasty bruise on her face.” The planner was confused. “Then why?” “She’d been ambushed and cornered by the people she was investigating. They were telling her what to write and what not to write. But Calla?” Pete’s smile deepened slightly. “She just looked at them, gave a small, faint smile, and said, ‘If I wrote it, it was worth writing.’” “I just thought… how could a woman in that situation look so utterly scrappy and cool?” The planner gasped. “Wow, Miss Davies seems so gentle, I wouldn’t have guessed she had that spirit.” The video kept playing, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. The ringing in my ears returned, overlaid with another sound, muffled by the bar’s chaotic music: the bartender’s lazy drawl. “Don’t let the sharp suit fool you. When Pete talks about Quinn, he’s poetic. Once, at a game of truth or dare, someone asked why he liked Quinn, since her temper was so explosive.” “Pete said it was because she had a defiant spirit no one else did.” “The time she was tied up, to humiliate Pete, they demanded he kneel. But Quinn wouldn’t let him. She shouted at him, ‘It’s just life or death, who cares?’ and started cutting the ropes herself.” “Pete said then, he realized: when completely isolated and helpless, she could still say the most defiant, coolly contemptuous things.” The two voices, separated by time and context, slammed together in my mind. I finally had to admit the crushing truth: in Pete’s eyes, I was merely a stand-in. Even the memory of our first moment of affection was a cheap, one-to-one copy of his feelings for Quinn. A suffocating feeling filled my chest. I had nowhere to put it. My phone vibrated. It was my mother, Joyce. “Calla, come home for dinner tonight? Come and apologize properly to your father. He’s just worried and his temper got the better of him.” Hearing my mother’s perpetually timid and placating tone, my chest tightened. I thought of the woman who had spent her entire life under my father’s thumb. I sighed. Okay. I could ignore Mr. Davies’s rage, but I couldn’t ignore the one person who had tried her best to give me warmth. I pushed open the door to the house, carrying a gift bag, and immediately heard Mr. Davies’s angry shout: “Who told you you could come back!” My mother, carrying a dish fresh from the kitchen, emerged, giving an anxious, forced smile. “She’s just in time. Wash your hands, dinner’s ready.” The comment redirected my father’s rage. He lashed out, knocking the dish from my mother’s hand. “It’s your fault! I shouldn’t have brought you two back in the first place! All you do is embarrass me!” I watched the hot sauce splatter all over my mother’s clothes. She stood there, head bowed, helpless and ashamed. My breathing seized with rage. I stepped forward, putting myself between them. My mother immediately pulled at my arm, shaking her head in silent plea. “What are you doing? Let her speak!” The veins in my father’s forehead pulsed. “She ruined everything! And she thinks she’s right?!” I met his rage-contorted face. “We are less embarrassing than you are.” “Ignoring your first wife and daughter for over a decade, taking your mistress to Europe to live the high life. Only when she leaves you, do you remember you have a long-suffering family waiting here. So you deign to bring us back as an act of charity!” “The Davies name? You tore that up and threw it away the moment you abandoned us!” “You insolent girl!” My father trembled with fury. He raised his hand, ready to strike my face. The force of his approaching palm rushed toward me. I did not flinch. “Father-in-law.” A familiar, steady baritone cut through the air. I froze. Pete stood in the entryway. His expression was clear and composed, though his eyes were cool. Only when he pulled me securely to his side did his face soften slightly. “The wedding delay was my fault,” he said smoothly. “Calla and I agreed to come back tonight to apologize to you both. I detoured to pick up gifts for you, which is why Calla arrived ahead of me.” He paused, his eyes sweeping over the scattered mess. “Is there a misunderstanding between you and Calla, Father-in-law?” The two mentions of “Father-in-law” made Mr. Davies’s smile bloom. “Misunderstanding? Between family? None at all! Come in, come in.” “That’s good. This is a small gesture of goodwill.” Pete nodded. His assistant stepped forward and handed over a legal folder. Mr. Davies’s eyes lit up when he opened it—it was the title to a highly contested piece of prime downtown real estate, one he had been coveting but couldn’t finance. The Hawthornes, of course, were too rich to care. I lowered my eyes. He had saved me, again. It seemed whenever I was in a difficult situation, he would appear and solve my problems with a flick of his wrist. An inappropriate memory flashed through my mind: Pete said I didn’t see him the first time he fell for me. Actually, I did. When those thugs attacked me, I thought I was finished. Then someone burst in and saved me. As I was rushed out, I saw the retreating back of the man who had done it. A firm hand on my waist pulled me back to the present. Pete whispered in my ear: “Let’s eat.” With Pete there, dinner was smooth and cordial. My father was satisfied. My mother was grateful. For me, the food tasted like ash. Afterward, as we walked out, I stopped. I turned back, examining him under the glow of the streetlamp. This was the Pete Hawthorne I had known for three years, the man I had once believed I would spend my life with. I gave a light, almost imperceptible smile, and took a step back. “Mr. Hawthorne, thank you for rescuing me tonight. But as for the wedding rescheduling we discussed at dinner… Let’s forget it.” Pete frowned, as if he didn’t understand. The news report on the Hawthorne Group’s capital maneuvering caused a massive public outcry. The interest was so high that a mysterious venture capital firm sent me an invitation, requesting a “friendly dialogue about some details in the reporting.” A waiter led me down a carpeted, sound-dampened corridor and stopped before a heavy walnut door. The private room was furnished in a classic, refined style. A woman stood inside. I looked at her face and momentarily lost the ability to think. Quinn. “Ms. Davies, the famous journalist. A pleasure.” Quinn walked forward, extending her hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. Quinn, CEO of Sentry Capital.” I forced myself to raise my hand for a brief, cold clasp. “Why… are you here?” I asked. Quinn was elegant and composed. “Why the pretense of surprise? Didn’t you know all along that Pete was the true owner of Sentry Capital? Approaching him, publicly chasing him, and trying to marry him—wasn’t it all just to investigate him and get your firsthand evidence?” The insulting conjecture made me involuntarily clench my fist, using the pain in my palm to retrieve my senses. “I never had any such intention.” “It doesn’t matter.” Quinn didn’t care. “I just find you slightly pathetic. Giving up all your self-respect to chase a man, only to be tossed aside like trash on your wedding day.” Quinn’s lips curved into a slight smirk. “Girls need to retain some decorum. When Pete realized he loved me, he pursued me. Every confession, every proposal, came from him. Because he said a man should take the lead on such things. He would never let the woman he loves do the chasing.” I had heard countless variations of this sentiment from various people since I began pursuing Pete. I should have been immune, but hearing it from Quinn made the shame and heartbreak sharper than ever. I quickly regained my composure, meeting her gaze steadily. “I never believed that loving someone and bravely pursuing them was anything to be mocked,” I said, my voice steady despite the subtle tremor in it. “As for you,” I met her eyes, “meddling in another couple’s relationship—what position do you have to mock my sincerity?” Quinn’s eyes flashed with anger, then she laughed. “The famous journalist has excellent composure.” She rose, walking toward the other side of the room. “Let’s see if you can keep it up now.” She pressed a button on the wall. A panel of dark wood silently slid open, revealing a much larger private room behind a one-way glass window. The voices from the other room filtered through the glass. “Pete is still Pete. He stays clean for a decade, but when he makes a move, he changes the entire leadership of the underworld. No one here can match that ruthlessness.” A familiar male voice teased. “I heard that Miss Davies sold all the wedding jewelry and gowns secondhand. Your running out on the wedding must have infuriated her. Are you even going through with it?” This was the voice of a socialite. A short silence followed, broken by Pete’s voice. “Yes. We’ll reschedule.” “Still rescheduling?” The socialite’s tone was clearly disapproving. “Pete, honestly, just call it off. You only care about Quinn, anyway. You should just cut ties with the Davies family. Your grandfather might dislike Quinn, but if you’re firm, he’ll relent eventually. Why drag Calla into this? She’s a good girl, a simple journalist. She’s not one of us.” My fingers started to feel numb. I watched Quinn’s cool, composed profile and finally understood the purpose of this trap. “She is a very suitable person to marry,” Pete’s voice came through the panel, cool and rational. “Good family background, gentle, knows boundaries. She can manage the role of Mrs. Hawthorne. She has feelings for me, and besides.” He paused. “I don’t want marriage to restrain Quinn. She should be free.” Boom. A deafening roar filled my ears. My vision tunneled, and I nearly lost my balance. Every illusion I had ever held was crushed by that one careless, rational sentence. I couldn’t stay another moment. I fled, staggering out of the private club. The hallway remained quiet. I didn’t stop until I reached the main exit. My eyes felt burning and swollen, yet I could not shed a single tear. Just then, my phone vibrated madly inside my purse. I answered mechanically. Al’s voice exploded in my ear: “Calla, where are you? Sentry Capital just issued an official statement! They’ve entirely rejected your report, claiming your data sources are false, that your deductions are malicious, and they’re threatening legal action against you personally!” I held the phone, the chilling realization of betrayal consuming me. Sentry Capital was Pete’s. He chose to discredit me publicly, knowing my report was true. But I had no time for despair. I rushed back to the newspaper office, reorganizing and backing up all my data. I couldn’t allow my personal fight to damage the newspaper’s reputation or ruin my colleagues’ work. But when I took the final draft to Al, he wouldn’t meet my eyes. He slid an envelope toward me. It contained a resignation letter, neatly written. “I’m sorry, Calla.” Al’s voice was dry and hoarse. “I mentored you, and I’m proud of the excellent journalist you’ve become.” Al was my boss, my mentor, and my guide. So I only asked one question: “Did someone apply pressure?” Al nodded. “Calla, I hope you understand. I have many people to protect.” I understood. I accepted the resignation letter with both hands. Then, I took a step back and bowed deeply to him. Al’s eyes reddened. He turned his head and steadied his voice. “But I saved your London fellowship application. You can go in a personal capacity. You leave in three days.” “Thank you.” I walked out of the office building and leaned against the railing, silently watching the distance. A commotion and crude shouting broke out nearby. An elderly street vendor selling small trinkets was being shoved and threatened. His wares were scattered across the sidewalk. I instinctively rushed forward, reaching into my pocket, the words “I’m a journalist” almost slipping out— But my fingers only met empty fabric. My press pass was useless now. The man pushing the vendor glanced at me, annoyed. “What are you looking at? Get out of the way!” In that moment, I felt a deep, profound confusion. I did nothing, ultimately. I simply helped the old man silently pick up his scattered items. Then, I went back to the apartment I shared with Pete—my passport and other documents were still there. I assumed Pete would be at his office at this hour. But when I opened the door, I saw him in the open-plan kitchen, wearing a dark gray apron, placing a platter of steamed fish on the island counter. Quinn sat on a high stool, chin propped on her hand, watching him. “Too much salt,” she commented. “Is it?” Pete tasted a bit from her hand. “It’s fine. You just have a bland palate.” “It is too much. You never used to make this mistake,” Quinn complained. “It’s been a while. My hands are rusty,” Pete indulged her. “Oh, really?” Quinn raised an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping past me, freezing on my figure in the doorway. “You don’t cook for her? You used to make me a different meal every day. Why the double standard now?” The air froze. Pete recovered first, looking at me. “Why are you home so early?” “Uh, not much going on at the paper.” I answered vaguely, heading straight for the bedroom. I just wanted my papers and to leave. “Since you’re here, why don’t you join us?” Pete’s voice came from behind me. I glanced at the counter: four dishes and a soup, perfectly arranged and appetizing. I had known Pete for three years, and this was the first time I realized he could cook so well. “No, thank you.” I found my document pouch in the bedroom drawer and quickly left. Behind me, I heard Quinn’s soft, amused voice and Pete’s low reply. I didn’t care what they were saying. As I walked out, my phone rang. It was my mother. “Calla, have you eaten? When can you and Pete come back? We still need to discuss the wedding…” “Mom,” I interrupted her. “I’m not marrying him.” A few seconds of silence followed. My mother’s voice returned, carrying its usual timidity. “Pete is such a good match. He treats you well, and finding a man like that isn’t easy. Don’t be difficult. If the man is good, you can endure the rest.” Endure it. My mother had endured her whole life, sacrificing her dignity, believing this was the fate of all women. My chest ached fiercely. I took a deep breath. “Mom, would you like to come with me?” “Leave? Why?” My mother hesitated. “Your father has finally been treating me better lately. Where would I go? Calla, don’t be impulsive. If you marry Pete, your father is very satisfied, and our family…” I didn’t listen to the rest. I closed my eyes, forcing down the lump in my throat, and whispered, “I’ll call you back.” Then I hung up. A massive LED screen nearby was showing the business news. The anchor’s voice was crisp and professional: “It is reported that Ms. Quinn, from New Orleans, has officially taken up the role of CEO at Sentry Capital, a move supported by a mysterious backer.” “In related news, investigative journalist Ms. Ji, who previously reported on Sentry Capital’s profit manipulation, resigned today. It is currently unknown if Sentry Capital will continue with its planned litigation.” “Furthermore, this station has learned that the journalist in question has a controversial reputation, having reportedly used her position to pressure others and even threatened to put people she disliked on the front page…” The screen cut to the furious interview clip of the blond thug from the diner. The onlookers started to murmur: “These reporters will write anything for attention!” “Exactly, they’re irresponsible. She should be sued!” “I heard it was a woman. So aggressive.” I stood there, watching the scrolling news and listening to the comments, feeling an overwhelming numbness. I had spent years meticulously fact-checking every article, cross-verifying every piece of data. I had never betrayed my badge, never betrayed my conscience. But now, the truth was easily buried. My hard-won integrity was dismissed as “reckless ambition.” Without warning, large raindrops began to fall. People shrieked and scattered, seeking shelter. Only I remained standing. The rain quickly blurred my vision. Through the haze, I saw a family across the street huddling under an umbrella. The father lifted his daughter onto his shoulders, her laughter clear and bright. I saw a young couple squeezed under one umbrella, the boy holding the girl close. Everyone had a place to go. I felt abandoned, alone in the cold rain. I don’t remember walking back to my apartment. I didn’t change out of my soaking-wet clothes. I stumbled to the sofa and collapsed, all my strength drained. As consciousness drifted away, I felt a deep, piercing cold. I knew I had a fever, but my body wouldn’t move. I couldn’t even lift a finger. My mind drifted between sleep and wakefulness. I felt like I was floating above everything. I saw my mother, whose face lit up with a look of pure contentment after a few placating words from my father, forgetting the recent humiliation. I saw Pete, standing beside Quinn, meticulously instructing her on the points to be aware of in her board meeting. I saw the newspaper office, brightly lit, my former colleagues still busy, my departure leaving no trace. Finally, my ethereal consciousness crashed back into my body. When I opened my eyes again, the window was filled with bright sunlight. My throat was raw and painful. I struggled to sit up, found my phone, and checked the date. Three days had passed. I dragged my weak body to the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror was pale and gaunt. I looked at myself, then turned on the shower. After washing, I went to the living room, retrieved the suitcase I had packed earlier, and left without a second thought. The airport announcement was a soothing voice in the terminal. I passed through security and walked toward the international departure gate. Beyond the massive glass wall, planes landed and took off, slicing into different skies. The boarding announcement for my flight came on. I stood up. The plane roared, soaring into the clouds. Outside the window, the sun pierced the cloud cover, turning the sky a brilliant gold.

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After yet another chilly standoff with Cam, my partner of seven years, I didn’t cave. My friends rallied around me. “She’s just complicated, you know? A little contradictory.” “A woman who battles herself needs a saint for a boyfriend.” “She’s just testing you.” But I was truly exhausted. I had nothing left to give, and no desire left to apologize. All the cold wars, the pointless arguments, the constant emotional dodging over the years had worn me down to the point where I couldn’t tell the difference anymore. Was she genuinely complicated and emotionally unavailable, or was she simply done loving me? So when she tossed “We’re done” at me like a verbal grenade, I simply caught it. “Then let’s be done.” 1 Cathy Riley visibly froze. I kept my head down, my voice low and steady. “I’ll pack my things and take them out as soon as I can. Anything we bought together can stay with you. As for the clothes you left at my place, if you want them back quickly, let me know. Otherwise, I can box them up and ship them to you.” The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by my own clipped speech. Cathy’s expression shifted from stormy anger to a blank, startling composure. She cut me off. “What about Toby? How do we split custody?” Toby was the stray cat I’d found outside our apartment complex. I’d adopted him, paid for his food, vet bills, and toys—everything. Yet, he was utterly indifferent to me. Eight out of ten times, he refused to be held, and a few times, he’d actually clawed my wrist. Cathy, meanwhile, was aloof and rarely interacted with him, but Toby adored her. He’d rub against her legs and purr with an annoying, entitled meow. “He’s yours, too,” I sighed. Even my deep affection for the cat couldn’t withstand that kind of obvious favoritism. It felt like a tiny, final betrayal. “Nolan James,” Cathy hissed, her voice tight with suppressed fury. “You missed Valentine’s Day, and now you’rethrowing a tantrum?” Hadn’t she been the one to say “break up”? Maybe she’d forgotten. She’d used the phrase so often; it was a cheap, effective tool to leverage control, a threat she knew always worked on me. “I told you, the flight was delayed. I got here as fast as I could.” Cathy scoffed. “An excuse. Why couldn’t you have taken an earlier flight?” I’d spent over twelve hours working non-stop to condense my meetings just so I could catch the last flight home that day. But Cathy wouldn’t listen. She was ready with a hundred more reasons to indict me. I fell silent, a deep, weary sense of futility settling in my chest. She turned and walked a few steps toward the door, then paused, turning back with a cold, superior tone. “Until you realize your mistake, I won’t be back.” “We are broken up,” I corrected her. She acted as if she hadn’t heard me, tilting her head. “I’ll give you one more chance. My anger isn’t just about your delay.” This was new. Usually, she just slammed the door and vanished. “Think carefully, Nolan. Then come and apologize.” 2 I sat on the sofa for a long time, trying to summon the energy to clean up the living room. Then, I retrieved the gift from the wastebasket. It was the result of a frantic search across a dozen stores in a foreign city. She hadn’t spared it a glance, hadn’t valued it at all. It lay there, worthless, among the other detritus of the argument. After tidying the living room, I went to the bedroom to pack. This was Cathy’s house, but my life was imprinted everywhere: the matching coffee mugs, the cozy throw blanket, the couple’s cutlery we’d picked out together. I only grabbed a few changes of clothes, then picked up my suitcase to leave. As I reached the front door, a flash of orange-and-white streaked toward me. Toby, the traitorous cat, planted himself squarely in the middle of the carpet, his round eyes fixed on me as if to block my exit. When I’d found him, he was filthy and malnourished. Now, his fur was glossy and thick. He looked the picture of health. I crouched down. Surprisingly, Toby didn’t pull away. I gently stroked his head. “I’m leaving now. She’ll take care of you.” I assumed he’d be happy with that arrangement. He preferred Cathy anyway. Unlike me, he never sought my affection. I peeled Toby’s claws from where they were firmly hooked into my jeans and ignored his sudden, frantic meowing, walking out with my suitcase. 3 I was outside the building when my phone rang. It was one of Cathy’s friends, her voice heavy with accusation. “Nolan, what did you do to Cam this time? She’s out drinking, and no one can stop her. She’s throwing things. Get down here and haul her home before she trashes my bar.” I felt a weariness that went bone-deep. “I don’t know why she’s angry. She walked in and just started smashing glassware.” There was a pause on the other end, followed by surprise. “You don’t know? She found out you had dinner with another woman, and that woman dropped you off at your hotel. Cam’s furious. She’s jealous.” I explained, “That was a client. The dinner was business, strictly professional. She drove me back because it was raining, and I couldn’t get a taxi.” So, that was the real reason. Cathy had always been this way. If I exchanged more than two words with another woman, she’d spiral into a jealous fit. I used to rationalize it, telling myself it was possessiveness born of love. But now, all I felt was exhaustion. “I could have explained everything, easily. But I don’t understand one thing.” My voice was quiet, aimed at the friend, but meant for Cathy. “Why does she tell you everything, but she won’t just ask me?” I once asked a buddy what he did when he fought with his girlfriend. He thought about it and said, “Depends on who’s wrong. We just wait for both of us to cool off, talk it out, and move on.” Cathy never did that. She bottled everything up. I was always left guessing what was wrong, forced to go through her friends for intel. I couldn’t fathom why she refused to communicate directly with me, why she preferred to vent to others instead of seeking clarity from her partner. Later, I learned the term for her behavior: emotionally withholding. Cathy was the most complicated, sensitive, and volatile person I’d ever known. She only knew how to retreat and push back, using veiled barbs and cold silence as her weapons. Everyone warned me people like that weren’t suitable for serious relationships. I didn’t believe them. I rushed in, heart blazing with hope. But now, I was lost. If a relationship always required one person to be the only active participant—the one who pursued, placated, and apologized—could it truly last? 4 I moved back to my own apartment. We might have avoided each other socially, but professionally, we still overlapped. We worked at the same research institute, though in different departments. During a project handover, I saw Cathy with a young man. He had bright, earnest eyes, a new graduate student named Finn O’Connell. Cathy’s eyes lit up the moment she saw me. But I didn’t look at her. I calmly handed over the documents and reports. Just as instantly, her warm expression chilled into aloof indifference. She brushed past me without a word, her gaze fixed straight ahead. I heard Finn, ever the curious gossip, whisper, “How did Professor Riley get that huge scar on her arm? It startled me when I first saw it.” Someone quickly supplied the backstory. “You’re new here. Professor Riley and Professor James—our Nolan—they were the golden couple. That scar is from an emergency drill back in college. She injured her arm carrying him. They say the injury kept her from qualifying for the pilot program she always wanted. That’s why she switched majors and ended up here.” Finn’s eyes widened with admiration. “That’s incredible. They really are a dream couple.” The workplace gossip flared up. Everyone praised Cathy’s sacrifice—giving up her dream for me, following me to the Institute. They lauded her devotion and expressed envy toward me. Our recent cold war was dismissed as playful bickering. “I bet Nolan is the first one to apologize this time.” “Last time, he bought us all lattes. What’s it going to be this time? I want the fancy macarons.” “I don’t agree. You’re cheating. Nolan always caves first. I’ll take that bet only if you back Cam to apologize.” I stood in the corner, listening to their laughter and assumptions. But they were all wrong this time. “Cathy and I have broken up. Please don’t mention it again.” My unexpected statement shut down the conversation instantly. Everyone looked at each other, then quickly dispersed. Our relationship was nowhere near the fairy tale they imagined. The constant arguments and emotional standoffs had left it deeply wounded and fragile without anyone noticing. I wanted to know: If I stopped trying to fix it, stopped fighting to keep it alive—what would Cathy do? Would she notice? Would she fight for me? Would she finally, just this once, apologize first? 5 A whole month passed. Cathy and I were like strangers, locked in a silent, exhausting battle of wills, neither willing to yield. Meanwhile, Finn and Cathy grew noticeably closer. They ate lunch together, left work together, and during the team weekend retreat, Cathy chose him as her hiking partner. Finn looked a little hesitant. “Are you sure this is okay? What about Nolan?” Cathy’s voice was sharp and cold. “We broke up, didn’t we? Why would I care what he does?” She didn’t bother to lower her voice. “Besides, he loves running off and having dinner with other women. I’m sure he’ll do the same on the mountain.” Suddenly, everyone was looking at me differently. I heard the murmurs. “She’s too good for him. He cheated on her, no wonder she broke up with him.” When I walked past, the gossiping cluster scattered. Later, going up the trail, Finn twisted his ankle. Cathy immediately abandoned the climb to tend to him. Finn apologized profusely. “I’m sorry, I ruined our hike. Now we’re last.” Cathy comforted him, her voice soft and gentle. “It’s fine. It was just a casual trip to relax. The ranking doesn’t matter.” I was walking further behind them. Since the number of attendees was odd, I hadn’t wanted to split anyone up, so I was hiking alone. I’ve never had great stamina, and I was already breathing heavily. The two figures ahead of me were cozy and harmonious. I even heard someone praise Cathy for being so responsible and nurturing. 6 Cathy was responsible and nurturing. She was polite and gentle with everyone… except me. Back in college, she was the student-body leader. During that emergency drill, everyone ran outside. She ran to me, hauling me up—my foot was in a cast from an injury a few days prior. The whole campus heralded it as an act of pure devotion. But what they didn’t hear was her spitting words at me. “Do you know how much trouble you are? Why did you even come to class with that foot? Now our whole group is last. Nolan, you are absolutely useless.” I wanted to tell her I had a medical exemption and wasn’t supposed to participate. But listening to her harsh criticism, I kept quiet, unwilling to provoke her further. Her friends later told me she was “speaking backward.” She was genuinely worried about my injury and wanted me to rest at home. They said she specifically tracked down a specialist to prescribe me the expensive herbal medicine. “She only made a hundred dollars a day at her part-time job, but your medicine was eighty dollars a dose. She bought a two-week supply without blinking.” My friend was envious. “She’s just complicated, but she truly loves you. That whole ‘ice queen’ act is the best kind of drama.” But seeing Cathy comfort Finn, I realized the bitter truth: She wasn’t incapable of warmth; she simply chose to reserve her kindness for everyone but me. I could hear about her love for me through the accounts of others, but I never felt it from her attitude. She only hurled cruel words, rolled her eyes, and gave me the cold shoulder. She called me clumsy, she called me shallow. She cut up a scarf a coworker gave me and smashed a gaming console a colleague loaned me. I always told myself she was just jealous, that she cared too much. So, after being repeatedly pushed away, after every refusal to communicate, I’d talk myself down. I would be the patient one, the proactive one, the one who apologized again and again. But even love, even enthusiasm, needs reciprocity. I wasn’t invincible in this relationship. I felt hurt, too. Emotional unavailability and a lack of love look so identical. I was so heartbroken I couldn’t tell the difference anymore. Was Cathy truly just complicated, or had she stopped loving me? 7 I stopped walking and quietly dropped out of the retreat. I texted my boss, claiming I felt ill. Back at my place, I systematically gathered up everything Cathy had left behind, along with all the gifts she’d ever given me. I packed it all up and shipped it to her address. When I was done, I stared blankly at the sofa for a while. Then, I picked up my phone and typed three short words. “We are done.” Last time, it had been a desperate test, a small, fragile hope that she would ask to reconcile. But this time was real. I genuinely wanted to walk away.

Traveling back to my hometown for Christmas, I was scrolling through TikTok when I hit a video that made my heart stop. It was a clip of a guy from behind, sitting at a late-night diner. The caption read: “To the guy in the blue puffer jacket at the diner tonight: You are literally my dream man. TikTok, do your thing!” I stared at the screen. That was my boyfriend. I knew that jacket. I knew the way he sat. That was the day he dropped me off at the train station. We had a massive fight that morning. Since then, he had only sent me three dry texts. He has an Avoidant Attachment Style. I used to think his silence was just a test—a way to see if I’d keep chasing, keep choosing him. I thought my job was to be the “secure” one, to be his rock. I didn’t realize that this time, he’d found a “Secure Guide” of his own. I clicked on the girl’s profile. Her latest post was a photo of her beaming, wearing that same blue puffer jacket. Beside her was a man’s arm, solid and familiar, draped around her shoulders. Caption: “Update: The jacket fits. He’s even hotter than I thought.” 1 Caleb Reed warned me before we started dating. He told me he had an avoidant attachment style. He told me that loving him would eventually hurt. That was three years ago. We met at his veterinary clinic. I had rushed in with a stray kitten I’d found on the side of the road, clinging to life after being hit by a car. Caleb was about to clock out, but he took the kitten without a word. “How did it happen?” he asked, his voice low and clinical. “A car hit it,” I said, barely holding back tears. “But it was still moving when I found it. Please.” Caleb glanced at me. “You’re this upset over a stray?” At the time, I thought he was cold. But he performed the surgery, stayed late, and at midnight, he walked out and told me, “It’s going to live.” I burst into tears of relief. Caleb reached into his pocket, pulled out a fresh pack of tissues, and handed them to me. “Stop crying.” He took off his surgical mask then. He had a sharp, stern face, but his eyes… his eyes were soft, almost vulnerable. I fell for him in that exact second. I adopted the kitten and named it Dawn. Every “check-up” or “vaccine” became an excuse to talk to him. By the time winter rolled around, we were official. Caleb opened up to me for the first time on a snowy night. He told me he’d been a “stray” himself. His parents’ divorce was messy; he was the one left behind. He’d tried to run away to find his mother, but he got into a car accident. He said he’d wished he died then. It would have been better than hearing his parents argue about who had to take him. As he spoke, his eyes turned red. I reached for his hand, and he gripped it tight. “I’m avoidant, Chloe,” he whispered, his eyes searching mine for a reason to run. “People hate people like me. I’ll push you away. Are you sure?” I didn’t hesitate. I nodded. “I love you, Caleb. I don’t care what your ‘style’ is.” He kissed me then—a desperate, hungry kiss. For three years, I studied psychology. I read the books. I learned how to give him space when he retreated. I convinced myself that if I was just patient enough, I could heal him. But staring at that TikTok, I realized I’d overestimated myself. I looked at our empty chat log. I felt a bone-deep exhaustion. I typed: “Caleb, I think we should break up.” No reply. 2 They say avoidants will repeatedly push away the people they love most. Three days ago, we fought at the airport. Caleb wanted me to spend Christmas with his parents. I couldn’t. My grandfather was in the ICU, and the doctors said it was a matter of days. I showed Caleb the photos—my grandfather, skin and bones, hooked up to machines. Caleb is a good person at his core. He felt bad for my grandpa. But he didn’t feel bad for me. “What about me?” he asked. “I told my family you were coming. Everyone’s expecting you.” “Chloe, you just don’t want to commit. You’re looking for an excuse.” It was the old routine. He’d take a legitimate conflict and twist it until it was my fault. He’d say I didn’t love him enough. He didn’t want to solve the problem; he wanted to avoid the reality of my pain. If I didn’t back down, he’d end it with a cold “Fine, we’re done.” But I couldn’t let my grandfather spend his last Christmas without me. “Babe,” I pleaded, “I’ll visit them right after New Year’s, okay?” Caleb snapped. He shoved my shoulder—not hard, but enough to create distance. “Forget it. I don’t need this.” “Go home to your family. I’ll go to mine. Let’s just forget the marriage talk for now.” He grabbed his suitcase and walked away. He didn’t look back once, even when I yelled that I loved him. On the train home, I sent a dozen texts explaining, apologizing, even asking my parents to help me talk to him. But as the messages sat on “Delivered,” I started to think. What did I actually do wrong? The only mistake I made was thinking I was irreplaceable. Without me there, Caleb wasn’t mourning. He was busy letting a stranger wear his jacket. After I sent the breakup text, he finally posted a Status: “Nobody ever stays. Nobody ever chooses me.” I gripped my phone, my heart skipping a beat. Usually, I’d be calling him, crying, begging him to see that I was choosing him. But this time, I stayed silent. 3 I wasn’t sure if Caleb had actually hooked up with that girl yet. Under her video, people were begging for an update. “Did you get the guy??” “The 2026 plot twist we needed!” The girl replied, acting shy: “We haven’t made it official yet. He’s a bit of a mystery, very cold-moody lol. But we’re going to see the New Year’s fireworks together. Hehe.” It felt like a knife to the chest. Caleb doesn’t talk to strangers. In three years, he never played games with other women. Even when we fought, he was loyal to a fault. That was why I stayed. I thought his “avoidance” was a cage he was trapped in. I realized then that our relationship was actually over. What I couldn’t understand was why he couldn’t just talk to me. Why couldn’t he just say goodbye? My grandfather’s condition worsened. The only silver lining was that when I got to the hospital, he was still conscious. If I had gone to Caleb’s parents’ house, I would have missed our last conversation. I turned off my phone. I was done blaming myself. Suddenly, a notification popped up. A follow request on Instagram. The bio said: @EverlyQ_. The message in the request was anything but friendly: “Are you Caleb’s girlfriend?” I stared at the screen. Everly. The girl from the TikTok. I hit accept. “Who’s asking?” The reply was instant. “I’m Everly. I’m the girl who’s going to be with Caleb.” 4 I checked her profile. She was young, probably a college junior. She lived in the same town Caleb was from. She was also incredibly bold. “Look, Chloe. I’m not trying to be mean. Caleb told me you broke up with him.” Ah. So he did read the message. “And?” I typed. A long paragraph appeared a few minutes later. “You know Caleb. You know how much he’s hurting. He’s avoidant—he can’t handle being abandoned. I met him and I realized he has a girlfriend, and I was going to back off. But then he called me last night, crying. I realized you two are a toxic match.” “I like him. I know how to handle someone like him. I’m a ‘Secure Guide.’ I won’t give up on him or threaten to leave every time things get hard. I’m going to pursue him seriously. Just don’t go posting drama online once we’re official.” I sat there, stunned. I couldn’t even process the logic. I was the one who stayed for three years. I was the one whose grandfather was dying. But to her, I was the villain for finally reaching my breaking point. I typed back one word: “OK.” Everly: “Just ‘OK’? I actually feel bad for Caleb. He wasted three years on someone so cold.” 5 Was I cold? For three years, I tried to melt an iceberg. Caleb wasn’t a child. He could have understood why I chose my dying grandfather over a Christmas dinner. Any normal person would. But love isn’t enough to cure a personality disorder. And Caleb didn’t love me enough to try. It was the second day after the breakup. He still hadn’t replied. However, he had deleted the “Nobody ever stays” status. Then, he started deleting photos of us. One by one. It seemed petty, but I knew his language. This was his way of getting my attention. He wanted me to see the “erasure” of our memories and panic. He wanted me to come crawling back to save the relationship. But I didn’t have the energy to play the game anymore. My dad called. Grandpa was being moved home. I knew what that meant. Hospice. I burst into tears and ran for my car to get to the hospital. On the way, my phone rang. Caleb. I swiped answer, my heart in my throat. “Chloe,” Caleb’s voice was heavy, sounding both angry and desperate. “Are you really doing this? Are you really leaving me?” “Caleb, I can’t talk right now—” Then I heard it. A rustling sound through the phone. A soft, feminine moan. “Caleb… what are you doing?” Silence. Then a girl’s voice, muffled: “Caleb, come back to bed…” My world shattered. 6 I pulled over to the side of the road, gasping for air. The betrayal felt like a physical blow to the stomach. Three years of patience, three years of “healing,” and he was in bed with another girl within 72 hours of a fight. While my grandfather was dying. I sat there for twenty minutes, staring at the steering wheel, before I forced myself to start the car. I had to see Grandpa. The drive to the hospital, which should have taken fifteen minutes, took me forty. My eyes were so blurred with tears I could barely see the road. I stumbled into the hospital, looking for the room. I was a wreck. I accidentally slammed into a man in the hallway. “Whoa, easy there.” Strong hands caught my shoulders. I looked up through a fog of tears at a man in a white coat. He looked steady. Reliable. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m looking for Thomas Miller. He’s my grandpa… he doesn’t have long…” I was babbling. Doctors usually don’t know every patient by name. But this man didn’t pull away. “Take a breath. Follow me.” He led me through the maze of the hospital to the ICU. I saw my parents outside the room, their faces red from crying. I rushed to the bed. My grandfather opened his eyes one last time. “My… sweet girl…” The weight of the last three days finally broke me. I knelt by the bed, gripping his hand as the warmth left it. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I’m so sorry.”

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The fourth year of being Zoe’s substitute. She returned to the country in person. Liam Sterling dumped me without hesitation, swiftly getting back together with her. At a friend’s gathering, he raised his glass to sincerely wish me a good man in the future. I smiled and toasted back, wishing him the same. Everyone present thought I was putting on a brave face. Even Liam thought so. Until one late night. His best friend, Lucas, updated his Instagram. In the photo, seventeen-year-old Lucas stood next to the equally seventeen-year-old me. And his caption was: “Broken mirrors will eventually be reunited.” The likes and comments from mutual friends. Exploded in the next minute. … Perhaps I had a premonition. So when Liam proposed breaking up, I actually breathed a sigh of relief. “Chloe, I’m sorry.” “If there’s anything I can do to compensate you, just ask.” The words were spoken to me. But Liam’s gaze drifted past me, landing on the clock hanging on the wall. It was almost nine o’clock. He and I both knew very well that Zoe’s flight would soon land in this city. “Let’s talk later, I just came back from overtime, quite tired.” I bent down to untie the straps on my high heels, my voice soaked in fatigue. There’s an unwritten rule between adults. No contact for three days means automatic breakup. And Liam and I had accumulated countless three days. So my sentence was a response to his offer of compensation. But Liam misunderstood. He stopped me from entering the bathroom, looking serious. “Let’s clear it up tonight, I don’t want to meet Zoe with ambiguity.” The overhead light cast an anxious shadow on his prominent brow bone. I suddenly remembered a night a few years ago. Under such light too. Liam held my hand, insisting on the title of boyfriend. I stopped my steps. Quietly stared at him for several seconds. “Break up, right? I agree.” Seemed unexpected that I would be so straightforward. Liam was stunned. His Adam’s apple rolled slightly. “Don’t you have anything to say to me… even scolding or hitting me is fine.” I wanted to laugh listening to this. But the corners of my mouth were too heavy to lift. Finally, I just lifted my chin, pointing behind him. “Liam Sterling, it’s almost nine.” Implication being, he should go. A trace of complexity flashed across Liam’s face. As if he wanted to say something, but was covered by greater urgency. Finally, he picked up his coat and pushed the door open to leave. From opening his mouth to disappearing, the whole process took less than thirty seconds. This is the weight of me and Zoe on the scale in his heart. After facing this disparate contrast again. I leaned against the cold wall. Laughed very lightly. Chapter 1 My relationship with Liam. He was the one who actively entangled first. After our first meeting, he pursued me almost frantically. I asked him the reason many times. Every time, he categorically said it was love at first sight. Yes, love at first sight. I gradually got used to him appearing in front of me on time every day. Also let down my guard. Letting him get closer and closer to me. Just the only strange thing was. After getting together, he would often stare at my face distractedly for a long time. I asked him what was wrong. Liam didn’t answer, only whispered in my ear that he loved me so much. At that time, I really thought I was loved. The change happened on an unremarkable weekend. While tidying up. I accidentally knocked over a box in his study. Photos inside scattered all over the floor. I squatted down to pick them up, only to find they were all intimate photos of Liam and another girl. On the back of the photos was written the same sentence. “Liam Sterling and Zoe want to be together forever.” The girl’s eyebrows and eyes were surprisingly similar to mine. I looked for a long time before realizing in hindsight. What his so-called love at first sight really meant. I proposed a breakup. But unexpectedly, during the holidays that year, Liam chased to downstairs of my parents’ home. The winter night temperature dropped below zero, he just stood in the wind all night. When I went out in the morning and saw his face turned blue from cold. I still softened after all. I accepted his clumsy explanation and stuttering promises. But towards this relationship, there was finally a few points of distrust added. Later, friends around got engaged and married one after another. Occasionally Liam also half-jokingly mentioned our future. I always changed the topic tracelelessly. Later he stopped mentioning it, just treated me more attentively and thoughtfully. Until one time I came back from a business trip in the early morning. Saw him forcing himself to stay awake sitting at the dining table waiting for me, with a bowl of warm Lobster Bisque by his hand. At that moment, a place in my heart suddenly softened. I thought, maybe getting married isn’t so bad. The sadness was real. But I really loved him too. Just when I almost made up my mind. The news of Zoe returning to the country spread. Liam suddenly became very busy. Phone always silent, messages often replied overnight. He still came home, but like bringing back an empty shell. Until recently when Zoe’s flight information was completely confirmed. Liam finally stood in front of me. Said that sentence of breakup that we both tacitly understood. Chapter 2 I agreed to the half-month project inspection proposed by my boss during the day. Originally considered that I couldn’t handle the intensity of continuous work. But now I changed my mind. Maybe busyness is the best way to fill the emptiness of heartbreak. Handing over work with colleagues was already late at night. Should have put down the phone and slept well. But I ghost-driven opened Instagram. Liam and Zoe’s hand-holding photo pierced into my eyes without warning. His caption was: “Glad didn’t arrive late, hope won’t be late again in the future.” Heart felt like being smashed heavily by a blunt instrument. I turned off the screen abruptly. Then kept eyes open till dawn. High-intensity work indeed makes people forget everything. In the half month of business trip, I lost seven pounds. Busy enough to have almost no gap to think of Liam. Only occasionally when thoughts wandered, there would be a moment of trance. The day of return. Friend sent a message, reminding me of the time and place of the gathering tonight. I knew there was a high probability of seeing Liam again on such an occasion. Perhaps, also Zoe. But I didn’t plan to avoid. I wasn’t the one in the wrong. I couldn’t cut off all contact with mutual friends just because I broke up with him. Thought for a moment, I typed a word in the chat box. “Okay.” … Light in the private room was blurred, voices noisy. When pushing the door open, several gazes fell on me. Before I could see the figures clearly, I heard Liam’s voice first. He probably drank. Tone higher than usual, carrying a bit of urgency. “I waited for Zoe for so many years, this time she’s back, I will absolutely not miss again.” A calm deep male voice interrupted him. “So, you can end the previous one with peace of mind?” “Liam, is feelings just a game to you?” Liam seemed stumped. Silent for two seconds, then retorted slightly irritably. “Lucas, not everyone is like you, years passed still obsessed with a first love who has no news. I’m different from you, I know what I want.” The man didn’t speak again. Air suddenly quieted somewhat tensely. Liam probably realized his slip of tongue, reached out to put arm around that person’s shoulder. “I said wrong, punish myself a drink. You just came back, don’t let my business spoil the fun…” Unknown who whispered a reminder. “Chloe is here.” All voices stopped abruptly. Liam looked up, panic flashed on face. And in the sofa corner. That man who had been hidden in the shadow, slowly raised his head. Profile clear and handsome, eyebrows deep. Those eyes looking at me, just like before. Actually Lucas. Really him. My breathing stopped in this second. The world also seemed to be pressed mute by someone. Only the heartbeat, knocked heavily on eardrums once. And again. Chapter 3 “Let me introduce, this is my friend Lucas.” Liam reacted first. He pretended nothing happened, pulled Lucas to me. “He was abroad these years, just came back recently.” “Wanted to introduce you before, but every time he came back you were away, quite unfortunate…” Liam drank, and was a bit guilty. Said quite a lot. But I didn’t listen to any. Just staring blankly at the person in front. Didn’t expect years passed. We actually reunited in such a situation, by mistake. Thinking of what he just said. That faint ripple in heart, soon returned to silence. Everyone in this world is qualified to judge others’ feelings. Only he, is least qualified. I didn’t intend to dig up old matters on such an occasion. Hid all emotions on face, just pretended not to know. Only nodded to Lucas. “Hello, Lucas.” … Atmosphere of gathering remained somewhat subtle. Everyone thought this awkwardness came from my breakup with Liam. I didn’t want to care, found a quiet corner to stay alone. Lucas sat diagonally opposite me. His gaze fell over from time to time, deep enough to be hard to ignore. My heartbeat was a bit messy. Didn’t notice Liam sat next to me. “Chloe, I sorry you in this relationship, any request you just…” He lowered voice, tone sincere. I listened but felt annoyed. Twitched mouth corner, moved aside, distancing from him. Didn’t fulfill promises when together, why say these words after breakup. “No need, wish you and Zoe grow old together.” I hate using quarrels to demand an answer already clear. Since can’t keep, better let go with dignity. Strange thing is. Hearing me finish this sentence, light in Liam’s eyes dimmed for a moment. But soon, he returned to normal, raised wine glass said. “Then… also wish you find true love in future.” More gazes gathered. I maintained last dignity, picked up wine in front. When gaze swept past behind Liam, I saw Lucas. He was quietly looking at me. Brows slightly frowned, eyes complex making me unable to understand. Just for that moment, all suppressed grievance and incomprehension suddenly surged up. Why is it always me getting hurt? Where exactly did I do wrong? Cold liquid slid down throat, carrying burning pain. I put down glass, excused myself to restroom. When getting up to leave, I could feel gazes behind. Lucas’s, Liam’s, others’. Door closed behind. Also separated vague discussions in private room. Chapter 4 “Did Chloe’s eyes look red when she went out just now?” “Must be holding on hard, four years, how can be so easy to let go.” Liam listening, suddenly froze. He turned to the speaker, tone a bit urgent. “Did she really cry just now?” Other party stunned by his question, mumbled: “Just… eye rims a bit red, maybe saw wrong.” Liam wanted to ask more, private room door pushed open. I came back, face showing no abnormality anymore. “I still have work unfinished, leaving first, you guys have fun.” I picked up bag, smiled to friends. Liam stood up immediately. “Chloe, I send you…” Before voice fell, his phone rang. Moment screen lit up, his eyes obviously dodged. Even didn’t see name, I guessed who. Private room too quiet. Causing female voice in phone also clearer. “Liam, my stomach hurts… can you come back?” It was Zoe. Heart seemed pricked gently by fine needle. Not deep, but pain clear. Liam held phone, looked at me again. Face written full of dilemma. I lazy to watch anymore, turned pulled door left. … In private room, Liam watched door close, trace of annoyance flashed on face. He seemed to explain to himself, also to others. “Zoe hurts badly every period, I really have no way…” Lucas who kept silent suddenly stood up, picked up coat. Liam stunned, subconsciously stopped him. “Where you going?” “Leaving.” Lucas tone very light. “Wait!” Liam like grasping life-saving straw, tone carried trace of pleading. “Lucas, this is mountain top, unsafe for her a girl drank to go down, you help me send her, okay?” He knew Lucas cold nature, dislike contacting unfamiliar people. Original didn’t hold much hope. But Lucas steps stopped. Quiet few seconds, he opened mouth, actually agreed. “Okay.” I underestimated difficulty of hailing car on mountain. After being cancelled three times in a row. A car slowly stopped in front of me. Window lowered, revealing Lucas’s face. “Get in, I send you back.” This person’s tone attitude didn’t change a bit from years ago. Wind strong on mountain, blowing bones painful. I didn’t be pretentious, pulled door sat in. Beside still familiar woody scent. My mind trance, turned head, whispered address. Continuous half month high intensity business trip, plus emotion consumption tonight, body reached limit long ago. Just drove down mountain road, I fell asleep groggily. Dream bumpy, like back to past. That time I also always fell asleep beside him. Every time wake up covered with his coat. And he quietly read beside, waiting me wake naturally. “Why not call me?” “Saw you sleep soundly, couldn’t bear.” Dialogue in memory blurry. Then picture shattered, became boundless quarrel crying. Brow tight, I woke up. Car already stopped. Outside window was my familiar apartment building. I sat straight suddenly, suit jacket on body also slid down. Movement woke Lucas napping beside. “Thank you sending me back.” I didn’t want ask extra words. Hurriedly untied seatbelt, reached to pull door. Door motionless. I paused action, turned look Lucas. He also looking at me. Gaze heavy, like bottomless sea in night. After few breaths. He opened lips, tone obscure. “Why so thin?”

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At the end of the year, Xavier, who told me he was on a business trip, appeared at my family dinner, sitting intimately next to my cousin. Seeing me, he froze. “Sarah? Why are you here?” “You know each other?” My cousin was surprised for a moment, then hugged my arm, whispering gigglingly in my ear. “Hehe, Cousin Sarah, this is the CEO of my company. Just because I complained about my parents pressuring me to get married, he couldn’t wait to propose pretending to be my boyfriend to accompany me back!” “How is it? Is he super nice? All those things in the living room were bought by him! Calling my parents ‘Mom and Dad’ so naturally! Acting like it’s real!” I stood frozen on the spot, stiff all over. More than knowing each other, he is my boyfriend of seven years who always used being busy as an excuse not to meet my parents. But… not anymore. Chapter 1 “Oh right! Cousin Sarah, how do you know each other? You don’t have a crush on Xavier, do you?” Lexi looked at me with a smile, a hint of hostility flashing in her eyes unnoticed. She is extremely possessive, loved snatching my things since childhood, and now declaring sovereignty blatantly. I chuckled lightly, glanced at the stiff Xavier, and was about to speak. Xavier’s text message came. [Sarah, don’t make a scene. Be angry if you want, but today I’m here as Lexi’s boyfriend. Don’t slip up and make everyone unhappy.] [Lexi is young, she can’t afford to lose face.] “Not familiar, met by chance.” I gritted my teeth, knuckles turning white, almost laughing in anger. “Oh~ I want shrimp! Xavier peel for me quickly! And that crab, pick out the meat for me!” Lexi was heartless, skillfully commanding Xavier to do this and that, as if they had done such things countless times. But Xavier is allergic to shellfish! I subconsciously wanted to stop it, but met Xavier’s warning eyes. When Lexi was happy eating, Xavier sent me another message. [The little girl loves to eat, peeling a bit won’t cause allergy. Don’t make a fuss, just go buy me an allergy pill later.] My heart went cold, gripping the chopsticks tightly. Together for seven years, he always refused to peel anything for me on the grounds of mysophobia (fear of dirt), let alone peeling shrimp risking allergy! “Cousin Sarah, didn’t you say you have a boyfriend of seven years? Why not bring him home to see?” “Yeah! Didn’t you say he runs a company? Wouldn’t be bragging to save face, right?” “Did you break up? You are really stupid, slept for free for seven years, slept into worn shoes…” A group of people talking at once, pointing fingers at me. My parents smiled reluctantly, wanting to smooth things over. But interrupted by Lexi’s mom, my Aunt Karen, with a shrill voice. “Oh my, you wouldn’t be a mistress outside, right? That’s not okay!” “Just sat at the table and you kept looking at our Lexi’s boyfriend. Wouldn’t even spare your cousin’s boyfriend, right? Sarah, one must have a bottom line!” A sentence made me unable to step down, face turning pale instantly, subconsciously looked at Xavier for help. Touching my gaze, Xavier dodged, grabbing Lexi’s hand tightly in front of the whole table of relatives. “No matter what, I only like Lexi! It’s useless for others to have crooked thoughts!” After speaking, he glanced at me warningly. Just this glance, made the relatives present more certain that I wanted to seduce him. “Oh my! Look, look how good the boyfriend our Lexi found is? Some people want to be homewreckers, pity no one wants them!” “Sarah, tell us the truth, are you really a mistress outside?” “Must be! She sends two or three hundred thousand to family every month! What job makes so much money? Isn’t it being kept by a sugar daddy? No wonder she has no face to bring him home! Her parents must be pissed off!” I bit my lip hard, nails digging deep into flesh. Parents were talked down unable to lift heads, faces white and green. Just defended me a few words, quickly choked back. I couldn’t help standing up abruptly, angry and uncomfortable. “Xavier! You speak!” “Don’t you know clearly if I am a mistress or not! You speak!” Chapter 2 The scene quieted instantly, everyone’s eyes focused on us. Lexi’s face pale, holding Xavier’s hand uneasily. “Xavier, don’t you plan to explain?” I looked at him with disappointment. He didn’t want to meet my parents, delayed marriage, even when I proposed with a ring and got rejected, I accepted all these! But I can’t accept my boyfriend rushing to pretend to be a couple with someone else! Xavier was silent for a long time, eyes gloomy. “Sarah is not a mistress, the person she dated for seven years, is actually…” I gripped my clothes, full of hope. But he avoided my gaze, tidying Lexi’s hair. “Is my good brother Sebastian. Sebastian chased her. Sarah never acted as a mistress for anyone.” At this moment, my heart shattered completely. The dignity supported for days, the smile maintained at the table all shattered, nose sour terribly. “Sarah, you should also bring Sebastian back to meet parents, consider marriage.” Xavier said lightly, but his eyes stared at me tightly. I understood his meaning. Nothing more than asking me to endure, to be obedient. Since so, then I do as he wishes, really become Sebastian’s girlfriend. I held back tears, smiling pretending to be relaxed. “Yes, it’s Sebastian. I’ve been with him for seven years, planning to get married this year.” “Sebastian? Isn’t Sebastian that boy who followed Sarah’s butt since childhood? Even said everywhere he wanted to marry Sarah when grew up!” Someone spoke in surprise, like discovering a secret. “I remember! Delivering gifts to the door every year! Turns out Sarah was hiding it! I said why so diligent without kinship!” Everyone changed faces, no one noticed Xavier’s face getting darker and darker. We three have a good relationship. Sebastian confessed to me more than once. Xavier was very jealous, once even angry with me for a long time because Sebastian sent me home, so I never said Sebastian was my childhood friend. “Uncle, Auntie, late this year. Where is Sarah? I bought her favorite cake from that shop, freshly baked! She definitely likes it!” Speak of the devil, Sebastian pushed the door and walked in, pointing skillfully at the pile of gifts at the door, waving the cake at me. “Why eyes red? Who scolded you? I’ll scold back for you!” I couldn’t help laughing, held his arm under his shocked gaze. “Mom, Dad, Sebastian, my boyfriend! We plan to get married next year.” “When did you become childhood sweethearts with Sebastian? Why didn’t I know! You never told me!” My voice and Xavier’s voice overlapped. Sebastian froze on the spot, looked at Xavier, then at Lexi snuggling beside Xavier, frowned. Xavier’s eyes slightly cold, staring tightly at the hands of mine and Sebastian holding together. “Sarah, I need an explanation.” Lexi bit her lip, a trace of venom flashing in her eyes. “Cousin Sarah, wouldn’t be you finding Brother Sebastian to act with you right? Last year you said your boyfriend was better than Brother Sebastian. Besides, Brother Sebastian doesn’t run a company.” “Xavier! You can’t join them to deceive parents just because you have good relationship with them!” She looked innocent, as if mentioning inadvertently. Xavier sneered, a trace of understanding flashing in his eyes, voice carried a bit of impatience. “Sarah, your trick is really low level.” Chapter 3 “Xavier, others don’t know, don’t you know? My company is already open, everything is going smoothly.” Sebastian frowned, expression unkind. Under my whispered explanation, he roughly understood the matter, glanced at Xavier with a sneer. “How come I didn’t know you found a girlfriend? Didn’t you say going on business trip for New Year? Causing…” “Sebastian!” Xavier face dark, silent warning. Lexi’s face turned white instantly, clutching Xavier’s clothes tight. Finally my mom smoothed things over, pulling Sebastian to sit down for a good chat. After meal, Xavier indeed had an allergy. Arms and neck densely red, Lexi distressed shedding tears. “You knew you are allergic to shellfish, why peel for me! Are you stupid!” “Not painful, I like peeling for you!” Turned to look at me again, crying accusing “And Cousin Sarah! Why didn’t you remind me! Do you like seeing Xavier sick so much! In your eyes, is there only Sebastian!” Last sentence fell, Xavier’s face instantly became ugly. “Sebastian is my boyfriend, of course I only have him in my eyes.” I looked at the two hugging together amusingly, trying hard to ignore the heart pain. “Sarah!” Xavier roared at me angrily, face dark enough to drip water. “You don’t need to find Sebastian to pretend boyfriend for face, very boring.” I understood his meaning, asking me to stop while ahead. But. “Didn’t you say it? My boyfriend of seven years! Is Sebastian…” Before I finished, I was dragged by the exasperated Xavier to the unmanned backyard garden. Veins on his forehead were jumping with anger. “What exactly are you making a fuss about? How to end this later?” “Lexi is a little girl urged to marry and blind date during New Year, what’s wrong with me helping her? I just didn’t want you to be sad so I hid it from you! Do you have to be so serious?” “Sarah, my patience is limited too! You know I hate you being with Sebastian the most!” “I tell you one last time! Matter between me and you not allowed to tell anyone! You as my girlfriend! Also not allowed to have intimate contact with Sebastian! Understood?” I stared at Xavier for a long time, seeing he wasn’t lying, laughed directly. Laughed until tears fell, I spoke choking. “So you mean! You can cheat, but I must be your girlfriend obediently and! Can’t complain?” “I don’t mean that! Not cheating either! I’m just helping Lexi!” He was exasperated, trying to deceive himself. But we dated for seven years, he never called any female other than me by nickname! Even less would actively propose to fake boyfriend for help! No wonder, since Lexi started working, he would smile at the cup inexplicably every day after coming home! Turns out spring heart sprouted! “Sarah, Lexi is different, completely different from you! She is fresh and vigorous, straightforward. I just think she is special, that’s all!” I laughed sarcastically, backhanded him a slap. Heartache, but stomach churned more disgusting! “Xavier, let’s break up.” “We are done.” Chapter 4 I turned and left after speaking, but bumped into Lexi who eavesdropped for unknown how long. Her eyes red, face white as paper. “Cousin Sarah, you…” I had no time to listen to her sadness, left straight away. At night, don’t know how Xavier coaxed, two people came back talking and laughing intimately. Lexi even looked at me provocatively, deliberately exposing the eye-catching mark on her neck, pouting red swollen lips. “Xavier! No empty room at home, you sleep with me tonight, I warn you! Don’t be like this afternoon…” Xavier saw me slightly stunned, a trace of guilt flashed in eyes, but still hugged Lexi, smiling said okay. He was certain, I was just throwing a small tantrum, will return to him naturally when anger subsides. But this time, I am serious. “Sarah, apologize to Lexi for your nonsense wishful thinking causing her cry for long time afternoon.” He signaled with eyes, but I treated as invisible, sneering at red mark on his neck. Seven years, I was never allowed to leave marks on him. “I know you always liked me, but I never had you in my heart from beginning to end, hope you don’t let Lexi misunderstand later.” “Oh my? What misunderstanding? Sarah, you have boyfriend yourself still pestering Xavier ah? Do you want face?” Aunt Karen full of anger, pointing at my nose cursing. “I said you are a mistress! Thanks to Xavier speaking for you! How can you even snatch cousin’s boyfriend!” “I saw it afternoon! Sarah pulling Xavier in backyard garden, probably seducing Xavier!” A group of people talking at once, wanting to nail me on pillar of shame. I wanted to explain several times, couldn’t insert words. Only Lexi, lying in Xavier’s arms with shocked aggrieved face, looking at me triumphantly provocatively. Next moment, received message from Lexi on phone. [Cousin Sarah, you dated Xavier for seven years, feelings just so so! Still snatched by me easily?] [He kissed me afternoon, hugged me, even confessed to me, said he was attracted by my maverick in company long ago, you are really boring.] “Cousin Sarah, is what my mom said true? But aren’t you marrying Sebastian soon? How can you…” She bit lip with tears, totally unlike person who could send such message. Aunt Karen crazy angry, rushed up slapped me hard, dragging my hair hitting against wall. “Pui! How did our family produce such shameless bitch!” “Are you cheap or not! Snatching sister’s man too!” “She said my son sexually harassed her few years ago! Probably she failed seduction herself!” “Start live stream! Post her online! Go to her company make scene! Ruin her reputation!” Group of people surrounded me cursing, Xavier watched coldly me being beaten, ignoring my help-seeking gaze. [Sister, you can never beat me in this life.] Lexi looked at me provocatively, moved mouth silently. I sneered, wiping blood trace at mouth corner. Slapped Aunt Karen’s face, then slapped the relative who claimed witnessing me seducing Xavier. Threw a stack of things on their faces.

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1 Seven years. That’s how long I’d been back with the Moreaus, the family I was born into. And in all that time, they all still hated me. My parents found the stench of poverty impossible to wash off me, a stark contrast to the effortless grace of the girl who had taken my place. My biological brother, Marcus, blamed me for the year the false daughter had to move out and “suffer” after I first came home. When she moved back in, he guarded her like a junkyard dog, convinced I was a constant threat. Even Rhys, the boy I practically raised from infancy, declared that the false daughter, Sophie, was the sister he’d always dreamed of. Me? I was the wicked witch who wouldn’t let him eat junk food or play video games all day. He once told me, with all the certainty of a child, that no one in the world would ever love me. I thought he was right. It had to be something in the air of this world, something fundamentally toxic to my existence. So when a System appeared out of nowhere and asked if I wanted to complete missions in other worlds, I didn’t hesitate. I agreed instantly. … The System came for me the day I got out of the detention center. I’d been locked up for two weeks. Outside, winter had sunk its teeth into the air. I wrapped my thin windbreaker tighter around myself. Hunching my shoulders against the biting wind, I mumbled to the System. “Are you sure? As soon as this body dies, you can take me away?” After receiving a firm confirmation, my eyes settled on the nearby lake. I had just started walking toward it when a heavy coat was draped over my shoulders. I turned my head and came face-to-face with a sight that made my stomach churn. My dear brother, Marcus Moreau. Two weeks ago, he was the one who had personally escorted me to the police station. It was because Sophie’s masterpiece for the art competition, which had mysteriously gone missing, was found in my room. In shreds. At first, I had screamed myself hoarse, trying to defend myself. But as I looked at their impassive faces, my explanations withered into despair. I had forgotten. Sometimes, the truth doesn’t matter. Everyone has their own set of scales. And a single one of Sophie’s tears could outweigh my entire existence. Marcus had wiped away that tear and told me, his face a mask of cold disappointment, that I needed to learn a lesson. Remembering that, I shrugged my shoulders. The heavy men’s coat slid off and landed in a heap on the dusty ground. Marcus’s face tightened, his expression growing colder still. The old me would have been a mess of anxiety, forcing a placating smile. But now, I just gave him a sideways glance before looking away. “Does Sophie know you’re here?” I asked, my voice flat. “Because I’d hate for her to shed a tear and have you pin the blame on me again.” I offered a thin, humorless smile. “Two weeks ago, she cried, and you sent me to a detention center. You gave me a permanent record and made sure I wouldn’t be able to graduate. If she cries again, what’s next? Do you want me to bleed out to dry her tears for you?” Marcus, who had bent down to pick up the coat, froze. He stayed like that for several long seconds. After all, we both knew the truth. Sophie had destroyed her own painting. It was a pathetic, self-staged drama. Over the years, her schemes had always been clumsy and obvious, but our parents, Marcus, and Rhys had all chosen to be blind. Finally, he straightened up, brushing the dust from his coat. He didn’t offer it to me again. He kept his eyes on the ground. “Come home. Mom and Dad are waiting.” He paused, then finally looked at me. “Mom bought you a strawberry cake.” He reached for my hand. I flinched back, taking several steps away. “I don’t eat strawberry cake. I ate Sophie’s once, and you locked me outside in the courtyard to stand all night. Remember? It was snowing, too.” The fingers of his outstretched hand curled into a fist. He looked away, his gaze darting around like a cornered animal. A silent, bitter laugh formed on my lips. I knew he remembered. That night, as I stood shivering in the snow-filled courtyard, I had looked up and seen him in his second-floor bedroom, warm in a thin sweater. He gave me a single, indifferent glance before drawing the curtains shut. Snowflakes landed on my eyelashes, melting into cold trickles that slid down my numb face. I couldn’t tell if they were water or tears. 2 Marcus’s face was a mess of shame and conflict. His lips moved as if to say something more, but I was already done listening. The System had promised me a new world. A world where I would have loving parents and a brilliant older brother who adored me. A world completely different from this one, where every meal I’d eaten for seven years had felt like choking down uncooked rice. With that thought, I took a deep breath and broke into a run toward the man-made lake. “Cora! Where are you going?” As I sprinted, I could hear his frantic footsteps pounding on the pavement behind me. “Cora! No one at home is blaming you! Sophie promised she’d try to get along with you! You need to stop this, right now—” His angry shouts died in his throat. Because without a moment’s hesitation, I launched myself toward the thin sheet of ice forming at the water’s edge. I ran, full of joy, toward my new world. But in the next second, my vision flipped. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, tackling me to the frozen grass. At the same time, I heard a loud splash. I sat up, pushing myself from the ground, and saw Marcus flailing in the icy water. He couldn’t swim. I could hear his choked gasps for air, his face already turning a deathly shade of blue from the cold. I just sat there on the lawn, watching him sink, my expression blank. Chaos erupted on the shore. Someone jumped in and dragged him out. Wrapped in a blanket, Marcus shivered violently, but his eyes, across the frantic crowd, found mine. For the first time, those eyes, which always held such cold assessment and judgment when they looked at me, held something else. They held pain. Anguish. But what did he have to be anguished about? I shook my head, a scornful smile on my face. When the Moreau family found me at fifteen, I actually had one good year. Back then, Sophie had claimed she felt guilty for stealing my life of privilege. She announced she was giving me back my parents and brother, and she moved out with Rhys. She left with a dramatic flourish, deleting all her contact information for the family. That year, my mother cooked my favorite dishes. My father canceled business dinners to eat with me. And Marcus would pick me up from school every day. The dinner table was often silent, and Marcus was always distracted on the drives home, but I was still clumsy and greedy in my enjoyment of the warmth I had been denied for fifteen years. I thought I finally had a home. But the next year, Sophie came back, with Rhys in tow. She was rail-thin and looked like a startled bird. And just like that, in less than a year, my father, mother, and brother were no longer mine. The food on the table was always Sophie’s favorite. My father, no matter how late he came home, would always peek into her room. And I never saw Marcus’s car at the school gates again. Then came Sophie’s endless campaign of sabotage. She said I tore her dress. Marcus believed her and threw my entire wardrobe into the backyard pond. She said I stole her necklace. Marcus looked at me like I was scum. “Give it back to her, Cora. Don’t make me search your room.” The necklace was later found in a hidden compartment of Sophie’s own jewelry box. She just stuck out her tongue and said she’d forgotten, and no one cared about the suspicion and hurt I had endured. She said I was spreading rumors about her at school. Marcus didn’t even bother to ask me; he just canceled my car service. Sophie’s tactics were never clever, but they were sharp, and they dug into my flesh, causing a pain that was deep and relentless. My explanations were useless. Their favoritism was a fortress, and I was never allowed even a sliver of their affection. So what was this performance now? What was all this supposed to mean? 3 The crowd of onlookers on the shore began to disperse. I stood up, testing the ankle I had twisted in the fall. I had only taken a couple of steps when an ice-cold hand clamped down on my arm. “Cora, what in God’s name are you trying to do?” I didn’t answer. My eyes scanned the area, searching for a more efficient way to die. The lake was out. Too easy to be rescued, and too much trouble for the rescuers. Jumping from a building wouldn’t work unless it was high enough. Bashing my head against a wall wasn’t a guarantee… “Cora, answer me!” My silence enraged Marcus. He let out a low growl, his voice trembling on the edge of a breakdown. “What is it you want? Was that a threat? Were you trying to scare us? Let me tell you, Cora, threatening suicide is the most pathetic tactic there is! Do you think we’ll just give in to you? In your dreams!” His shouting made my ears ring, but strangely, I felt a laugh bubbling up inside me. See? People who don’t love you will see you hanging from a rope and think you’re just playing on a swing. Ignoring my struggles, Marcus dragged me into his car. He was soaking wet, his lips a deep shade of purple from the cold. But he seemed oblivious to it, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other clamped around my wrist like a manacle. I tried to pull away, my voice calm. “Let go.” He didn’t. His grip only tightened. “Cora, Mom and Dad are waiting for us. You said you wanted to go to Disneyland, remember? I’ll buy the tickets in a few days. We’ll all go as a family.” A humorless smile twisted my lips. “Is Sophie going?” His fingers tightened on my wrist. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “I’ll keep an eye on her.” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. My laughter darkened his expression. “Cora, you don’t need to compete with Sophie. You—” I didn’t let him finish. I lunged for the steering wheel. The car swerved wildly on the empty road. Marcus’s voice cracked with terror. “Cora! Are you insane?” “We’re going to crash!” Perfect. A quick end for both of us. Dying with him was disgusting, but taking one of them with me felt like a fair trade. Fueled by that thought, I yanked the wheel with all my might. The car fishtailed violently before veering sharply to the right, crashing into the median strip. The screech of tires echoed in the sudden silence that followed. But apparently, Marcus had slammed on the brakes in time. The impact wasn’t even hard enough to deploy the airbags. My head swam. I sighed. Another failure. What a shame. The first thing I did was reach for the door handle. Locked. Marcus slumped in the driver’s seat, his face a ghastly shade of white. After a long moment, he turned to me, the corners of his eyes red, his voice a raw, broken whisper. “You really… want to die that badly? Even if… it means taking me with you?” I clutched my aching head, not even bothering to look at him. “Marcus, why didn’t you just drown in that lake?” 4 Marcus didn’t say another word. He just drove, forcing me back to the Moreau estate. The dead silence between us lasted until we stepped through the front door and saw Sophie. She was dressed in a white sundress, her cheeks rosy. It was clear my absence had been good for her. Her eyes widened when she saw Marcus, then narrowed at me, her face immediately crumpling into its usual mask of tearful victimhood. “Sister Cora, my brother went all the way to get you… what did you do to him? How could he be—” “Shut up.” Marcus’s voice was hoarse and dry, but it carried an undeniable weight. Sophie’s eyes flew open in disbelief. Even our parents, who had hurried into the foyer, looked stunned. I turned my head, surprised. It was the first time I had ever heard Marcus speak to Sophie with anything less than gentle indulgence. His head was bowed, his normally ramrod-straight spine slumped with an uncharacteristic weariness. “It has nothing to do with Cora.” He looked up, his gaze sweeping over all of us. “From now on, don’t jump to conclusions about my business, or Cora’s. Especially you.” He fixed his eyes on her. “Sophie.” The color drained from Sophie’s face. Her lips trembled, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. But this time, her usual pitiable act was tinged with genuine panic and hurt. “Brother… you’re yelling at me… for her?” Just then, another voice, clear but sharp with anger, cut in. “Marcus! How could you say that to my sister?” I looked up. Another traitor. Rhys. The younger brother I had raised by hand before I was “rescued” by the Moreaus. He stormed down the stairs and planted himself protectively in front of Sophie. I could still see the ghost of the little boy he used to be in his features, but the look he gave me was pure, cold hostility. “Cora! What lies have you been telling about my sister now?” “She has always treated you like her real sister, putting up with all your moods! How can you be so vicious, trying to drive a wedge between her and Marcus? Can’t you stand to see any of us happy?” His words had barely faded when my hand connected with his cheek in a sharp slap. He staggered back, clutching his face, his eyes wide with shock. “Cora… you… you hit me?” I looked into his disbelieving eyes and gave him a careless smile. “So what if I did? With a mouth that filthy, aren’t you just begging for it?” Perhaps because I had never treated him this way before, his expression went blank, a familiar, wounded look creeping into his eyes. For a fleeting moment, I was transported back in time. I was ten, and Rhys was three. Our parents had died together in a car accident. Suddenly, I, a child who could barely care for herself, became the guardian of a toddler. The meager settlement money was quickly spent by relatives on the pretext of buying a burial plot. So I learned to act like an adult. I went to the market to pick up the rotten vegetable leaves the vendors threw away. I would cook a pot of watery porridge, so thin you could see your reflection. I’d drink the water off the top and give the thicker parts at the bottom to Rhys. When he was old enough for school, I knew there wasn’t enough money for both of us. So, after my own classes, I would scavenge for scraps to sell. I was chased by stray dogs and bullied by other scavengers. Back then, I was steeped in the sour stench of the junkyard. My classmates would pinch their noses when I came near. The smell felt like it had seeped into my very skin. So much so that when I first arrived at the Moreau’s house, my mother rushed to embrace me, but her arms only hovered around me for a second before quickly pulling away. Her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and she discreetly raised a hand to her nose. Rhys had seen my humiliation. As I stood there, frozen with shame, he reached out and squeezed my hand tightly. Then he stood in front of me and announced to the Moreau family that I was the best sister in the world, and if they dared to bully me, he would make them pay. That was the Rhys I knew. But a year after he and Sophie returned to the Moreau house, the best sister in the world became the worst. He was full of praise for Sophie and criticism for me. And now, this boy who constantly accused me of being manipulative and psychologically twisted, was looking at me with a rare flicker of hurt in his eyes. He stood there, head bowed, clutching his cheek, looking pathetic. His precious sister was clearly heartbroken for him. Sophie walked toward me, her voice trembling with perfectly modulated emotion. “Sister, please don’t be angry. Rhys is still young, he doesn’t know any better. He speaks without thinking. I’ll apologize to you on his behalf.” She reached out, as if to take my hand. “I didn’t raise him well. And I… I shouldn’t have come back. If my being here makes you so unhappy, if it’s tearing this family apart, I… I can leave again…” There it was. The same old act. As expected, our mother immediately wrapped a protective arm around her. “Sophie, don’t say such foolish things. This is your home.” Our father glared at me, his eyes full of warning. “Cora, don’t stir up trouble the moment you walk in the door.” I scanned the faces in the room. They were all clustered around Sophie, a protective circle. And there I was, standing alone in the entryway, an outsider who had never, not for a moment, belonged in this so-called family. The thought made me sigh. “You really are a loving family,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “So wonderfully, disgustingly alike.” They all stared at me, stunned. Sophie was the first to react. She tore herself from our mother’s grasp. “I’ll just die! I was a mistake from the beginning! If I die, everything will be clean again!” She ran to the nearby dining room, snatched a steak knife from the table, and held it to her wrist. “It’s all my fault…” “No! Sophie, put the knife down!” our mother shrieked, shooting me a look of pure hatred.

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