Category: English

Blair broke up with me again. This time, I thought I’d do what I did the first time she dumped me when we were eighteen: head down to the riverwalk to cool off. But the wind coming off the water was biting, a sharp, physical reminder that I wasn’t a teenager anymore. Forget it, I thought. Just go home. On the walk back, I passed that greasy spoon diner on the corner. I expected my stomach to be in knots, the way it was when I was twenty and heartbreak felt like a terminal illness. Instead, the smell of grilling onions hit me, and I realized the cook was on his A-game. I was starving. Finally back in my apartment, I sat down, ready to do what I’d done at twenty-two, twenty-three, and twenty-four: draft The Essay. The long, groveling text message begging Blair to take me back. But then I opened my phone and saw a notification from my boss. I was being deployed on a business trip. I spent the next month buried in work in a neighboring city, practically revitalizing my career. Blair, finally losing patience with my silence, called me. “Why haven’t you come to apologize yet?” That was when it hit me. I’d forgotten something. I’d forgotten to care. Getting dumped when you’re a little older is a strange thing. It’s less of a tragedy and more of an administrative hassle. I tested the waters, keeping my voice light. “My bad, my bad. Honestly, I’ve been so swamped I forgot to write The Essay.” I paused, letting the silence stretch just enough to be dangerous. “How about… we just leave it broken this time?” 1 We were at drinks with friends when the rumor started floating around that Blair was planning to propose to me. Blair laughed, that cool, dismissive sound that used to make me nervous. She looked completely unbothered. “Why would I need to propose? Griffith isn’t going to marry anyone but me. besides, I need Carter to be the best man. He’s been booking that slot since we were kids.” The sentence was so off-balance I couldn’t tell what mattered more to her: marrying me, or securing a spot for Carter, her childhood soulmate, in the bridal party. I took a sip of water, trying to keep my voice steady. “I have my own friends for groomsmen. My college roommates. We made a pact years ago—we all stand up for each other. No exceptions.” Blair didn’t even look at me. She just swirled her drink. “So add another groomsman.” “I can’t. There are four of them. An odd number doesn’t work for the procession. It’s messy.” She snapped, a flash of irritation breaking her composure. “Then just find some random guy to even it out. Carter has never been a best man before. Can’t you just satisfy him this one time?” The table went quiet. Our friends were used to these inexplicable arguments. They never interfered because they knew the script: I would apologize specifically and profusely, Blair would freeze me out for two days to prove a point, and then she’d graciously allow us to make up. Nobody wants to be a spectator to a relationship where one person is the clown. But this time, something inside me had calcified. “No. It’s not necessary. It’s my wedding, and I want to make the call.” Blair walked over to me, looming slightly. “And if I insist?” I didn’t answer, but the look on my face must have been answer enough. Humiliated and furious, she slammed her hand on the table. “Fine! Let’s break up then! Griffith, don’t you dare contact me.” She stormed out, the door rattling in its frame. The remaining friends looked at their drinks, the floor, anywhere but me. I smoothed things over, murmuring some excuses. The tension broke, and the teasing started. “Griffith’s got this under control. He’s confident,” one guy laughed. “Blair is just… you know. Go buy her a bag, smooth it over. It’s fine.” “Griffith, you can’t spoil women like that,” another said, shaking his head. “The more you indulge them, the worse they get. You’re too soft on her.” “Hey, that wedding date you guys were looking at? My uncle says it’s bad luck. I’ll have him calculate a new one for you. He’s amazing—no one he’s picked a date for has ever gotten divorced.” I smiled, polite and hollow, and didn’t say a word. 2 I walked home alone, stopping every now and then just to breathe. My head was a supercut of the last ten years. High school sweethearts. The brutal years of long-distance during college. The friction of moving in together. We had failed at every stage, and every single time, I had fought tooth and nail to glue us back together. I asked myself, Why? Does loving someone mean you have to strip yourself of all dignity? Shouldn’t love be about mutual compromise? About holding each other up? But whenever I resolved to leave, a treacherous little voice would whisper in my ear: “If you give up now, doesn’t that make the last decade a waste? Doesn’t that make you a joke?” So I gritted my teeth. I endured. I hoped that if I just loved her enough, I could move her. I hoped for a happy ending. My wandering took me past the river again. I used to call it the “River of Tears” because it was close to our campus. Since our very first breakup, this water had witnessed more of my crying jags than my mother had. But tonight, the wind was just cold. Before I could spiral into melancholy, the physical chill snapped me out of it. I pulled my jacket tighter. Forget it. I’ll go be sad in the warmth of my living room. I turned the corner and saw the burger joint again. Funny. I came here a lot. Once, after a fight with Blair, I angrily ordered five double cheeseburgers, intending to eat my feelings, but my throat was so tight from holding back tears I couldn’t swallow a bite. The cook really had improved. The smell of grease and charred beef was hypnotic. I ordered cautiously this time, afraid of repeating history, but after two burgers, I realized I could easily handle a third. Mouth busy, stomach full. The emptiness in my chest didn’t feel quite so vast. It was only when I stood in front of my apartment door that I hesitated. We had lived together for so long; that small space was a museum of our shared life. But when I opened the door, I didn’t feel nostalgia. I saw the trash bag, full to bursting, that she hadn’t taken out. The empty soda bottles on the coffee table. The shoes kicked off in the middle of the hallway. The anger flared hotter than the sadness. The fire in my chest seemed to dry up my tears. I cleaned everything in a frenzy. I sat down to mute her on social media—so I wouldn’t have to see her updates—when a notification popped up. My boss, tagging me in the group chat with feedback on a proposal. By the time I closed the document, the sky outside was turning the color of a bruised peach. Morning. I was surprised to find that the first day of heartbreak had passed so easily. So, in the quiet of that brand-new morning, I did something I had never done before. I blocked Blair on everything. 3 Blair didn’t come back. I knew the drill. She was waiting for me to kneel. I assumed I would, eventually. It was a habit, like biting my nails. Bowing down for love didn’t feel shameful anymore; it just felt like Tuesday. But every time I picked up my phone, life intervened. A proposal needed rewriting. A client called. One day turned into two, then eight, then nine. I hadn’t contacted her. I had accidentally achieved the impossible, and to my shock, I wasn’t in agony. During the morning meeting that day, my director announced a critical project. A client needed a representative on-site, a permanent placement until the project closed. A year and a half, minimum. I raised my hand before the sentence was even finished. He looked at me over his glasses. “Single candidates preferred.” “I’m single,” I said immediately. The conference room erupted in laughter. My “epic saga” with Blair was office folklore. They assumed this was just another dramatic chapter. But the director asked around, and no one else volunteered. Leaving headquarters for eighteen months was a risk. You could come back to find your desk gone and your influence evaporated. For a career trajectory, it wasn’t the optimal move. But for me? It was an escape hatch. And more than that, the client was in San Francisco—a city I had always dreamed of living in. Blair had refused to ever leave our current city. She was comfortable here; her family was here, her world was here. She wouldn’t even let me travel to San Francisco for vacation. Friends joked she was afraid that if I went, I’d realize how big the world was and never come back. I just smiled when they said that. In the end, the director gave it to me. “Don’t bail on me,” he warned me privately before I left. “I don’t care how the soap opera with your girlfriend plays out. You finish this eighteen months.” I smiled. “Mission accepted.” 4 The first weeks in San Francisco were a blur of adrenaline and caffeine. I worked two weeks straight, living out of the corporate hotel because I didn’t have time to apartment hunt. By the third weekend, I finally came up for air. The city was everything the blogs and magazines promised, but being there—feeling the steep hills in my calves, smelling the salt and eucalyptus—was different. I realized I had made the right choice. When my mother called, I was actually surprised. We hadn’t spoken since a blowout argument a year ago. My parents had started the “marriage pressure campaign” when I was twenty-five. By twenty-eight, with no ring on my finger, they had snooped through my phone, found Blair’s number, and called her directly to harass her. I can only imagine the toxic things they said. Blair refused to speak to me for a solid month after that. My mother has a beautiful voice, melodic and soft, which makes the cruel, invasive things she says land with even more dissonance. “You’re not really going to wait until you’re thirty to get married, are you?” she started, skipping the pleasantries. “We dug through the family tree for eight generations and couldn’t find anyone as useless as you.” “Well, I’m breaking new ground then.” “I don’t have time for your sarcasm. Your sister saw on your social media that you broke up with that Blair girl. True or false? Usually, you two are back together by now, but it’s been quiet. Is it done?” “Say what you want to say, Mom. I’m working.” “That temper. Just like your father. No wonder you two can’t be in the same room.” “I’m hanging up.” “Wait, wait!” Her voice pitched up. “Look, if you’re free this weekend, your aunt found someone for you. A nice girl. She works in your city.” “She probably doesn’t,” I said. “I forgot to tell you. I moved.” 5 “You moved?” Her volume spiked. “Why do you always do this? You have these big ideas and you just do whatever you want!” I didn’t have the energy to argue. “Who is she? A client of Auntie’s? Or her boss? There’s always an angle with her.” My mother, usually so strident, suddenly mumbled. “They say it’s your cousin’s boss’s daughter. But her conditions are excellent. Would your aunt hurt you?” I genuinely wondered how she could ask that without choking. “Are you sure about that?” I asked. “Why do you have to be so cynical? Just because she introduced you to someone last year and took a little advantage… she apologized to you crying! She didn’t know about that person’s situation.” I didn’t bother arguing. If she didn’t know the situation, why did she set us up? My aunt had introduced me to a literal con artist. When I rejected the woman, my aunt gave her my home address. If Blair hadn’t come home early that night, finding me cornered in the dark stairwell by a woman demanding money… I don’t know what would have happened. I later found out the woman was the niece of a major client my aunt was trying to woo. She sent my photo without asking, the niece liked it, and my aunt served me up on a platter. When I tried to go to the police, my aunt explicitly told me she wouldn’t testify because she couldn’t afford to offend the client. And now, here we were again. “Tell Auntie to stop using me as currency. Or I’ll come home for Thanksgiving and act so crazy everyone will think it runs in the family.” “You ungrateful child!” 6 The silence after hanging up was exquisite. I finished a proposal, dropped it in the work group chat, and basked in the shower of “thumbs up” emojis from the team. Feeling bold, I posted on my personal feed: [Another day, crushing it.] Usually, I kept a low profile, but the response was immediate. [Griffith is a career man now! I tried to get you out for a week, didn’t know you were grinding.] [Working? Don’t you know your fortress is under siege?] [Why haven’t you deleted the breakup post? You haven’t made up yet? Is the apology gift not big enough this time? You never listen to us.] I replied one by one. [Traveling for work. Drinks when I’m back.] [My fortress is empty. No one lives there anymore.] [Not making up.] As soon as I hit send, my phone rang. It was the boyfriend of one of Blair’s best friends. We used to hang out all the time. “Where are you living the high life, Griffith?” “Working. Just busy.” He paused, lowering his voice. “Are you out of town? I walked by your place the other day, knocked, no answer.” “Yeah, out of town. What’s up?” “Nothing, nothing. Just haven’t seen you. Wanted to grab dinner.” “I’ll hit you up when I’m back.” “Cool, cool.” He hesitated again. “Hey… did you hear about Blair and Carter?” “Not really,” I said honestly. “Like I said, busy.” He didn’t take the hint. “Blair and Carter have been super loud about it. Going to parties together. I heard Blair bought him a massive gold watch for his birthday.” “Everyone’s guessing they’re finally together. Blair hasn’t confirmed it. We figure she’s just waiting for you to come beg for forgiveness.” I laughed. A genuine, short laugh. “What exactly am I apologizing for?” He stammered. “Huh? I mean… you always apologize. I just assumed…” “I apologized when I cared,” I said. “What if I don’t care anymore?” I heard a loud door slam on the other end of the line. And then, Blair’s friend’s voice yelling, “Blair!”

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Covering for My Brother in a Game Kellan’s friend scoffed on the comms: “Blake, how long are you going to keep messing with those jungle creeps?” I winced and finally pressed the push-to-talk. “Sorry. It’s his sister. I’m terrible at this.” The line went silent for a beat. Then, a low, easy voice, edged with a hint of laughter: “Don’t sweat it. You go play. I’ll carry the whole match.” 1 It was late that evening. I was bringing Blake a snack when I walked into his room. He practically shoved his phone at me. “I need to run to the restroom. Play for me for a minute.” I blinked at him. “I can’t. I don’t know how.” “It’s easy. Just chuck skills at the little monsters in the jungle, okay?” With that sage advice, my brother was gone. I looked at the character screen. The Shadow Blade. A high-skill assassin. I’d never touched the game, so I did what he said: I focused on the nearby jungle mobs. The brief moment of satisfaction I felt for taking down a particularly nasty-looking beast was immediately shattered. “Blake, are you planning on farming those jungle creeps all night?” “Seriously? You’re playing like you’re trying to throw the match.” The voice was young and sharp, laced with an impatience that was palpable even through the speaker. I instantly regretted entering my brother’s room. This was real, red-hot humiliation. And, naturally, Blake was taking his time. Terrified he’d start up again, I finally pressed the push-to-talk button, feeling guilty as I walked my character away from a newly spawned group of monsters. “Sorry. It’s his sister. I’m terrible at this.” “Blake will be right back.” The comms were silent for several seconds. Then I heard a hiss, like a heavy object had been hit. The enemy marksman’s character on the screen suddenly died. When the voice returned, it was low and easy, now fully edged with a familiar, teasing quality. “Don’t sweat it. You go play. I’ll carry the whole match.” It was only after his second comment that I let myself believe it. It was Kellan. My brother’s friend. Someone I hadn’t seen in years. I was still in a daze when Blake returned and took his phone back. “Nice. Didn’t die. You’ve got talent, June.” As I was leaving the room, I overheard Blake talking to Kellan. “How was my sister’s gameplay?” “Better than yours.” “When did she get back in the country?” “None of your business. Why do you care about your sister so much?” 2 Kellan and I went way back. I was a freshman then, and Blake was a sophomore. At the annual high school track and field meet, Blake was running long distance and made me promise to cheer him on. I was leaning against the railing, bored out of my mind, when my hand brushed against something warm. It was the hand of the guy standing next to me. The crowd was packed in tight, and we were accidentally pressed close. His fingers were long and lean, the knuckles clearly defined, the veins visible like blue rivers under the skin. It was beautiful, like an actual piece of art. I stared for a few seconds longer than was socially acceptable, completely lost in thought. He snapped his fingers, and a clear, melodic voice brought me back to reality: “Hey. What are you thinking about?” I jolted, meeting a pair of eyes that were laughing at me. He had sharp, handsome features, a high nose, and thin lips, and his hair was slightly ruffled by the wind. It was the first time I realized someone could look that effortlessly cool in a generic high school gym tee. My face felt like it was on fire, and I essentially fled. I don’t even remember what I stammered out to him. I thought that would be the end of it. But when Blake won his medal and took his friends out to celebrate, dragging me along, I realized how small the world was. Blake clapped his friend on the back and introduced him to me. “This is one of my main guys, Kellan Rowe.” Kellan raised an eyebrow at me. “Hey, little sister.” The light in his eyes made my heart flutter. Kellan Rowe. I repeated his name silently in my head. 3 Later, lying in bed. For some reason, I was possessed by the impulse to log into my old Messenger app—the one I hadn’t touched in three years. I stared at his dormant avatar for a long time. Apart from Blake, this was the only digital link I still had to Kellan. Then my phone vibrated, and the icon lit up. Kellan was online. He sent a message: “Apologies. Wasn’t trying to rag on you tonight.” And then, direct, no preamble: “When did you get back in the country?” It was abrupt, with no attempt at a greeting. I thought for a moment before replying: “Yesterday.” “Hmm.” The chat went silent. We were two people whose lines of life had gone parallel years ago. We had no common ground left. I didn’t know what to say. I even did a quick search online for “How to talk to an old friend you haven’t seen in forever.” Like a robot, I typed out a few words: “Long time, no see. How have you been?” Kellan replied immediately. But his message made my heart skip a beat. “Then let’s go see each other.” “Maybe someday.” 4 I didn’t expect “someday” to come so quickly. The next morning at breakfast, I was sipping my coffee when Blake casually brought up his birthday. “I was thinking of having my party at the old lake house in Willow Creek this year.” “If you hate the noise, we can go out instead.” I nodded, then the words slipped out: “Is Kellan going to be there?” Blake’s internal alarm went off immediately. His voice shot up. “How do you two know each other well enough for him to ask about you yesterday and for you to ask about him today?” I kept my head down, focusing on my breakfast to hide my expression. “We don’t. I just remembered him from the game last night.” Blake nodded, though he still looked suspicious. I couldn’t tell if he believed me. In the end, he did hold the party at the Willow Creek lake house. It was a proper bash on the back deck and patio. I didn’t go down immediately. I stayed on the second-floor balcony, getting some air. My gaze fell, and I immediately saw Kellan below, on the phone. He was tall and lean, his shoulders sharp and clean in a black sweater. He had completely shed the youthful awkwardness I remembered. As if sensing my stare, Kellan slid his phone into his pocket. Across the din of the party, he didn’t speak, but his eyes found mine. His thin lips moved, silently forming the words: “Long time no see.” The moment felt like a feather scratching at my soul, again and again. I realized Kellan had changed so much. 5 I finally went downstairs when Sasha, my best friend, came up and dragged me down. She threw her arm around my neck and whispered in my ear: “You don’t love me anymore, do you? Hiding up here like a ghost.” I patted her arm. “I love you. I love you.” “I just got back, and I don’t really know all these people anymore. I don’t want to be awkward.” Blake truly was a social butterfly. The back deck was packed. The clinking of glasses, loud laughs, and music all mixed together, making my ears ring. Blake’s friends were loud when they saw me. “Whoa, look at little June Hollis! You got so pretty!” Another voice yelled, “She’s even taller!” Someone nudged Blake with an elbow. “Remember me, little sister? You seeing anyone these days?” Blake immediately smacked the back of the guy’s head. “Beat it. Go on.” “Don’t pollute my sister’s eyes.” Blake made me sit in the chair on his left. Kellan was on his right. Feeling self-conscious, I looked for Sasha, only to find her on the lawn, singing her heart out into a microphone. Blake went over to join her, singing along. Hesitantly, I reached for a glass of something they’d just mixed. Before the rim touched my lips, a hand clamped around my wrist. Kellan’s voice dropped. “You don’t want that. Trust me.” I tried to pull my hand away. “Just a little. It’s fine.” “It’s nasty. And too strong.” Kellan took my glass and stood up, walking over to the nearby outdoor bar. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a clean, pale wrist. He looked down, pouring liquids into a new glass without hesitation. He looked serious, but in reality, he only added a few drops of liquor. The rest was all juice and soda water. It looked even less appealing. I instinctively recoiled from the glass he handed me. Kellan looked at me, a hopeful expression in his eyes. He seemed genuinely curious when I only took a small sip. “Afraid I poisoned it?” I forced myself to drink a few more sips. It was bitter. Actually really awful. But I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I smiled. “It’s great.” Kellan took the glass away, leaning in slightly, looking amused. “It’s mostly soda water. And you think it’s ‘great’?” “Years abroad, and still afraid to take a sip of bad booze,” he teased. I turned my head, ignoring him. Kellan’s gaze lingered on my profile, but his smile slowly faded. His voice dropped several degrees, carrying a distinct note of melancholy. “Why did you tell everyone you were leaving… but not me?”

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The day after my stepbrother and I crossed the line, he got into a car accident and lost his memory. When I rushed to the hospital, a strange girl was holding him, comforting him: “It’s okay, baby. Even if you forget me, it just gives you a chance to confess your love to me all over again.” I was furious and about to expose her lie when suddenly, I saw floating comments appear in the air. [Lol, the female side character is still worried about the male lead. Actually, he just got bored after sleeping with her and is faking amnesia to dump her openly.] [This two-faced heroine is so satisfying! From having a crush on the male lead since freshman year to saving him by chance now, pretending to be his girlfriend to get close… shipping them so hard!] [Did anyone notice the female side character can barely walk from the pain? The male lead really showed no mercy.] [Eh, a virgin boy has no control, just treat it as practice to give the heroine a better experience later~] … So, when Caleb Hunt pretended to be confused and asked who I was. I ignored the heroine’s hostile gaze and said calmly: “She’s right. You two are a real couple.” “As for you and me… we are brother and sister.” 1 When I rushed to the hospital, my legs were still trembling uncontrollably. The nurse at the front desk asked me: “Looking for the patient in Bed 37? What is your relationship with him?” I couldn’t help but think of last night. A boy and a girl tasting forbidden fruit for the first time, entangled until 3 AM before falling asleep in each other’s arms, clothes mixed with sweat creating a mess on the floor. I coughed lightly, cheeks flushing. “I’m his girlfriend. How is he? Is he okay?” “Hmm? You’re his girlfriend? Then who is keeping him company in the ward?” The nurse looked suspicious and pointed me in a direction. My brain buzzed. I quickened my pace, sensing something was wrong. Behind me, the nurse muttered. “Did I remember wrong? That handsome guy who got into a car accident… if his girlfriend hadn’t passed by and called the ambulance in time, he wouldn’t have woken up so fast.” “…” The ward door was ajar. The boy I longed for had gauze wrapped around his head, his handsome pale face full of confusion. “Are you… really my girlfriend?” The girl standing in front of him had a fresh face and smiling eyes. It was Lily Vance, the beauty of the neighboring class and the heiress of the wealthy Vance family. “Your name is Caleb Hunt, a high school graduate from Lincoln High. You like sweets, have a kind heart, often feed stray cats at the school gate, and your best sport is basketball…” “Is that all?” Caleb interrupted her mercilessly. “That only proves we know each other. Being a girlfriend is a stretch.” Lily blinked and leaned in closer. At a distance where they could hear each other breathe, the girl’s red lips curled up. “Your ears are sensitive. When you kiss me, you’re urgent and fierce because you like seeing me go weak and breathless.” “Oh, and our first time was on a hotel sofa. You have a beautiful butterfly tattoo on your side waist. I not only kissed it, but also scratched and bit it…” “Stop… stop talking.” Caleb’s ear tips turned red, and he reached out to cover her mouth. “I believe you, okay?” Lily cupped his face and planted a kiss. “It’s okay, baby. Amnesia isn’t a big deal. Just gives you a chance to confess your love to me all over again.” Although Caleb and Lily were both popular figures at Lincoln High, one had high standards, and the other was known for not being interested in girls. They didn’t know each other at all, so how could they be boyfriend and girlfriend? Moreover, the intimate things Lily mentioned were clearly what Caleb and I did. After the college entrance exams, Caleb drank too much at the graduation party and dragged me to a hotel room. I had feelings for him too, so I didn’t refuse. The sofa was narrow, and I had to cling to the boy’s lean waist to keep from falling… Inexperienced and crazy. A fire rose in my heart. I couldn’t watch any longer and pushed the door open. “She’s lying…” Caleb Hunt, my brother in name. Did you forget everything? I was the one who fed stray cats with you. I was the one who brought you water when you played basketball. And I was the one who abandoned all reserve to do intimate things with you. Before I could finish, rows of comments suddenly appeared in mid-air. [Lol, the female side character is still worried about the male lead. Actually, he just got bored after sleeping with her and is faking amnesia to dump her.] [What amnesia? Just a mutual game. Side character, you are just a pawn in our main couple’s play.] [The heroine is so good at this. One ‘baby’ makes me weak, let alone the male lead, who is about to be hooked.] [Did anyone notice the female side character’s walking posture? She’s obviously still in pain. The male lead really showed no mercy.] [Eh, a virgin boy has no control, just treat it as practice to give the heroine a better experience later~] I froze instantly. 2 Five years ago, I met Caleb Hunt for the first time. He followed a woman dressed flamboyantly and moved into my house openly. My mom passed away early. To take care of me, my dad hadn’t remarried all these years. But somehow, his mind was messed up by this mother and son. I didn’t eat at home for a month straight, making it clear I wouldn’t give them a good face. Until I stumbled upon Caleb being punished by his mother, Miranda, kneeling in the living room. The woman had curly hair, red lips, and a floral dress—a very trendy look at the time. But the slaps on Caleb’s face were merciless. “How many times have I told you to find ways to please Zoey (original name: Xie Zhiyu)? The Xie family only has this one daughter. If her dad divorces me because of her, I will never forgive you!” “You little burden. If I didn’t have you, I would have married into a wealthy family long ago.” Miranda raised her voice. “From now on, for every day she doesn’t come back to eat, you starve for a day!” Being in puberty, Caleb grew very tall but didn’t have much meat on him. From a distance, he looked like a thin bamboo pole that would fall with a gust of wind. In the end, I couldn’t bear it and rushed over to shield him. “I hate you, it has nothing to do with your son.” “From now on… I will come home to eat on time.” After getting into the same high school, Caleb silently pursued me for two years. We held hands secretly and kissed under streetlights. Unlike his gentle and somewhat dull personality, Caleb’s kisses were domineering and suffocating. So was the strength of his hugs, as if trying to merge me into his blood and bones. I thought this was love, so I gave my all defenselessly. But the comments told me that this world is a sweet romance novel, and Caleb is the male lead. And I am the vicious stepsister hindering him from being with the heroine. Lily switched to the gentle girlfriend channel in a second. “Zoey, I know you never approved of me and your brother, but we are not kids anymore. Siblings should also keep an appropriate distance.” “Caleb, what do you think?” Caleb’s gaze shifted between the two of us, asking hesitantly: “She… is my sister?” Receiving Lily’s affirmation, he smiled weakly. “Zoey, right? Thanks to your sister-in-law for saving me. You should thank her.” The comments were all cheering. [This two-faced heroine is so satisfying! From having a crush on the male lead since freshman year to saving him by chance now, pretending to be his girlfriend to get close… shipping them so hard!] [The male lead is the real player. Love at first sight with the heroine, knowing better than anyone she’s lying but not exposing her, willingly falling into her sweet trap.] [Next, the female side character should go crazy. According to the plot, she pushes the heroine down hard, loudly clarifies her identity, and calls the male lead a scumbag who slept with his stepsister and won’t admit it.] [Then she gets despised by the male lead. There are others in the ward; doesn’t the male lead need to save face? While apologizing, he becomes more determined to dump the side character.] [Although I feel sorry for the heroine baby, I have to admit that only with the side character constantly acting up can her relationship with the male lead progress further.] The hand I reached out stopped in mid-air. Thinking for a moment, I suppressed my anger. When I spoke again, my voice was hoarse. “Caleb Hunt, do you really have amnesia?” “I hurt my head and don’t remember anything.” Caleb looked apologetic. “Is there… anything wrong with what Lily said?” If the comments were true, then from the moment the car accident happened, Caleb had decided to play this act to the end. Why didn’t I realize his acting skills were so good before? Huge disappointment surged up. It felt like a hole had opened in my chest, the wind from outside blowing in, shockingly cold. “She’s right. You two are a couple.” I took a deep breath, having recovered my calm. “As for you and me, we are indeed siblings, real siblings.” Caleb’s face visibly changed. “What’s wrong?” I asked with a smile. “Are you feeling unwell?” “Do you need me to call a doctor… brother?” Caleb’s eyelashes trembled heavily, his cold white fingers grabbing my sleeve, his voice hoarse. “…What did you call me?” [What’s going on? The female side character should go crazy and make a scene at the hospital, making the male lead disgusted with her.] [Damn, what is the side character doing? Please don’t intervene in our little couple.] [This stepsister has some tricks. Retreating to advance, knowing how to use a man’s guilt. She’s not as stupid as the book says.] [Come on, even if the vicious female side character smartens up, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s vicious. She’s probably holding back a worse move, preparing to deal with the heroine secretly.] 3 I rarely called Caleb “brother” because he hated that identity. He said more than once how much he wished he had met me earlier, so he would have stopped his mom from marrying my dad no matter what. The constraints of worldly ethics forced us into an underground romance. “Sister-in-law, I’ll leave my brother to your care.” My nails dug into my palm, a sharp pain. My brain was clearer than ever. I said in a light tone: “I’m not feeling well and need to go back to catch up on sleep. I have a dinner with some close classmates tonight.” While speaking, I inadvertently pulled aside my collar, revealing dense marks on my neck. A trace of hatred flashed quickly in Lily’s eyes, and she said pointedly: “I heard you were close to a few boys in class. Girls should focus on self-respect and self-love. Like me, I only have your brother.” I turned and left. “I don’t have a boyfriend, so knowing more guys is harmless.” … The dinner that night was at a downtown hotel. Guided by the waiter, I entered the lobby. Just in time to bump into Caleb, gauze wrapped around his head, intimately arm-in-arm with Lily, introducing her to everyone. I could barely maintain the polite smile on my face. Bringing her out to show off before his injury is even healed? Is he so impatient to show off their love? Then what were our days of underground romance? Lily caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of her eye, a gleam flashing in her eyes. “Everyone’s here. While waiting for the food, let’s play Truth or Dare.” The comments were excited. [Here it comes, here it comes! The famous scene where the male and female leads seal their love with a kiss is coming.] [The heroine is a master at this game. She’ll spin the bottle to herself later, and the punishment happens to be—deep kiss a person of the opposite sex present for three minutes.] [Hehehe, after kissing the heroine, the male lead will realize his feelings for the side character are just sibling affection, and his feelings for the heroine are lover’s love and heartbeat.] [Then the side character witnesses the whole thing, heartbroken, gets drunk and falls on the roadside, getting molested by a homeless man. Hahaha deserves it! Just thinking about that scene feels good!] [Kiss quickly, kiss quickly! The heroine’s young uncle is coming to catch them soon. That’s a ruthless character. Later he turns dark and becomes the big villain, almost killing the male lead.] “Let me spin the bottle.” I scanned the comments quickly and pressed down on Lily’s wrist. “I haven’t played this before. Let me try, sister-in-law.” Calling her “sister-in-law” made others tease. “People with partners should go easy on us single dogs.” “Really didn’t expect you two, who seemed unrelated, to be together.” While Lily was shy, I took the bottle and spun it hard. As long as it’s not Lily, I thought. A minute later, the bottle mouth wobbled and pointed at me. Someone cheered, “Dare! Deep kiss a person of the opposite sex present for three minutes! Woohoo~” This was truly unexpected. My gaze swept over the boys’ faces one by one, desperately thinking of a way out. The comments sneered at me. [The side character will definitely choose the male lead. Choosing to be a homewrecker of all things, disgusting.] [Ahhh I’m so mad! If it weren’t for the bitchy side character interfering, the main couple would be kissing passionately by now. Who understands? The moment it pointed to the side character, the heroine baby looked like she was going to shatter.] [The side character’s desire to kiss the male lead is written all over her face. Having evil thoughts about her brother in name, I’m gonna puke.] Caleb looked at me with a hint of hope. “Choose me. A sister kissing her brother is nothing.” Vetoed by Lily with one vote. She blinked her watery almond eyes, acting coquettish and wronged. “I don’t agree. Caleb, only I can kiss you, not even your sister.” “I heard long ago that Zoey is the social butterfly of the class. Nine out of ten boys here have close relationships with her—” Lily smiled at me. “Just pick anyone. It’s the 21st century; a kiss won’t kill you.” I have a cheerful and easygoing personality. Both male and female classmates like to take me along when going out. Being popular actually became Lily’s reason to arrange me. I looked at Caleb, only to see him turn his face away, showing no intention of speaking up for me. A girl spoke up to relieve the situation. “Alright, alright, the content of this dare is indeed a bit too much. Zoey can drink instead of doing the dare.” But Lily was relentless. “Zoey, aren’t you a buzzkill? If everyone breaks the rules like you, what’s the point of playing this game?” The comments were also scolding me. [Exactly, if you can’t afford to play, don’t join!] [Heroine baby is so cool! Dealing with this scheming side character requires being tough, letting her know being a mistress isn’t that easy!] [It’s not like she hasn’t kissed before. Who is the side character pretending to be a chaste woman for?] [Needless to say, it must be the male lead. Schemed to point to herself, but failed to kiss the male lead. The side character must be dying of regret inside, right?] While we were in a stalemate, a knock sounded on the door. The waiter brought in a man in a sharp suit. “Mr. Yan, this is the private room where the young lady is.” Lily stood up like a mouse seeing a cat. “Un… Uncle.” Her attitude was respectful, more like treating a superior than a relative. I sized up this big villain who was said to have almost killed the male lead. Julian Yan, twenty-nine years old. Deep, cold brows and eyes, carrying an aura of authority. “He counts as a person of the opposite sex present, right?” I steeled my heart, and without waiting for an answer, grabbed the man’s tie, forced him to lower his head, and kissed him hard. “I choose him.” 4 Everyone in the room gasped in unison. The comments scrolled wildly. [The side character has lost her mind! Daring to offend the villain, she’ll be dead in minutes.] [Think you’re in a drama? Domineering CEO falls in love with me Mary Sue plot? Keep dreaming.] [Guess the side character is going offline early. Good, good, good, no one will interfere with our little couple anymore.] Julian remained motionless. Neither accepting nor resisting, only his eyes gradually deepened. Until my face burned red, and I apologized to him: “Sorry, I lost a game…” He ignored it, his gaze passing over me to land on Lily. “Passing by after work, your dad asked me to give you a ride.” Lily carefully gauged his expression. “Uncle, I want to play a bit longer, can I?” Julian nodded faintly. “Okay, then I’ll head back first. Be safe.” Lily was overjoyed. “Thank you, Uncle!” As he brushed past Julian, the corner of his mouth hooked into a sneer. “Are all girls who just graduated so impatient like you?” He was insinuating something. I felt like I had been slapped across the face from afar, humiliation sweeping through my body. [Wait, something’s wrong. In the original book, the uncle saw something unusual between the main couple and forced the heroine to go home. The heroine had to sneak out at night to meet the male lead.] [Who can resist daughter’s soft voice acting coquettish? In my opinion, the CP of daughter and uncle is also kinda shippable… really, why can’t female-oriented novel heroines have them all!] [Agree with above. In contrast, the side character is embarrassed enough to want to crawl into a hole hahaha. If the uncle scolds, scold more!] [The side character is just easy. Looking forward to her intimate interaction with the homeless man later, hehe~] [Why do I feel something is wrong? The villain is always unreasonable, why is he so easy to talk to today? And I saw his hand move, seeming to stuff something into the side character’s pocket.] The last comment was quickly drowned out by overwhelming mockery directed at me. Lily was quite proud. “Zoey wants to be my aunt? Too bad my uncle doesn’t like your, uh, overly loose type.” From the moment Caleb saw Julian mock me, his tense body suddenly relaxed. At this moment, his face turned cold. “Your sister-in-law is right. The most important thing for a girl is self-respect and self-love. Besides, he is so much older than you—I will tell Mom and Dad about tonight. Think about how to explain it!” The surrounding classmates looked at their noses and hearts, not wanting to intervene in our family affairs. I downed a drink and retorted. “Why can you fall in love, but I can’t find someone to kiss?” Leaning forward, I whispered in his ear: “I just like guys older than me. Don’t you know this best, brother?” Caleb instantly died down. He pulled up my strap that had accidentally slipped, his fingertips inadvertently brushing over my delicate shoulder and neck. His Adam’s apple moved. “…Sit properly. What do you look like slumping around?” Lily, who witnessed everything, accidentally broke a glass. I did it on purpose. She stole my boyfriend, and I won’t let her have an easy time. In the second half, Lily exchanged a look with a boy, seizing every opportunity to make me drink. By the end, I was drunk and incoherent. Perhaps to prove our pure sibling relationship, Caleb pushed me off him hard. “Lily, I’ll take you home.” Lily was happy but troubled. “What about Zoey? I’ll ask someone free to take her. It’s not safe for a girl to walk alone at night.” “She treated you like that, even forced a kiss on your uncle, yet you still care about her regardless of past grievances.” Caleb was somewhat moved. Then, sweeping a warning glance at the boy behind Lily who was making me drink, he said: “But don’t worry about her. Let her fend for herself. After all, only by learning a lesson can she remember, right?” The boy left resentfully. Even though I was prepared, hearing Caleb’s tone so cold, my heart still ached to the point of suffocation. If I really get assaulted by a homeless man as the comments say… Will he regret leaving me alone? Classmates left in twos and threes. I slowly opened my eyes. The comments were excited as if it were New Year’s. [Ahhh, the main couple finally gonna have their first time!] [The heroine takes advantage of the alcohol to force herself on the male lead. The male lead half-refuses half-accepts… The only pity is that the male lead has already slept with the side character, otherwise I would ship harder.] [Is that the same? The side character is just a tool for venting. The male lead stayed with her in a cheap hotel for a hundred bucks, but with the heroine, it’s a presidential suite.] [The main course begins! Once the male lead tastes the heroine’s goodness, the last bit of guilt for the side character will disappear, discarding her like an old shoe in minutes.] …

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Ethan Brooks said he would propose on our fourth anniversary. But this year is our eighth year together. He tells me he loves me, while fiercely pursuing a freshman in college. For her, he risked everything, even stealing my mother’s heirloom necklace. “Lily hasn’t seen many nice things. She really likes this. Just let her have it for a bit, I’ll make it up to you later.” “Okay.” This time, I didn’t cry or scream. Instead, I dialed a number. “Julian Thorne, say what you said last time again.” He was confused but repeated, “Dump Ethan Brooks and marry me.” “Okay, I’ll marry you.” … Julian was obviously stunned. We were silent for two minutes. “Serious?” “Yes.” Julian chuckled deeply. “I’m waiting for you.” 1 “Who are you calling?” Ethan suddenly hugged me from behind, startling me. I locked my phone and shook my head. “Unhappy? You know Lily’s family isn’t as well off as yours. Be generous.” “Mm.” Ethan’s phone kept buzzing. He looked down to reply, a gentle smile appearing on his lips. It was a message from Lily Hayes. The photo was the most eye-catching part. My mother’s necklace was around her neck, resting perfectly in her cleavage. It was a cropped photo, showing the lace of her bra. “Ethan.” He sat on the bed, obsessed with the photo. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Completely ignoring my voice. “Ethan!” I raised my voice, and he looked up sharply. “What?” “When do you plan to propose?” Ethan put away his phone, scratching his head to hide his expression. “Aren’t we… still young?” “Being young is for having fun. To celebrate my wife’s generosity today, the boys are throwing a party. Want to come?” Ethan’s eyes told me everything. He was waiting for me to refuse. “I…” Ethan suddenly hugged me. “I’ll tell them for you. You don’t like the smell of alcohol anyway. Wait for me at home, okay?” I looked down and laughed bitterly. Ethan thought I agreed happily. His goal achieved, he didn’t waste another word on me. He turned and left with his phone. As he walked out, I saw him zoom in on that photo. Holding my pajamas, I subconsciously looked at myself in the mirror. Average figure. Average face. Lily and I were indeed from two different generations. At midnight, one of Ethan’s friends posted an update. It was a video. The music was deafening, the VIP room reeked of decadence. Several young people were cheering on the dance floor. Right when the music paused. I heard a familiar voice. “Lucas, I want to propose to Lily.” It was Ethan’s voice. Putting down my phone, I stared at the ceiling and took a deep breath. Our relationship survived the seven-year itch, but couldn’t survive a single winter. 2 I was about to sleep when I got a message from Ethan’s friend, Lucas. A simple sentence: Sister-in-law, can you bring some stomach medicine? Ethan didn’t have stomach problems, and neither did Lucas. From Ethan’s earlier words, it wasn’t hard to guess what they were planning. I didn’t know if Lucas calling me was Ethan’s idea. When I got there, I leaned against my car for a long time. My legs were starting to go numb before I finally found the courage to go in. It seemed I arrived at the perfect time. Ethan was on one knee. “Lily, I really love you.” “Lily, marry me?” “Lily, I want you.” The love in Ethan’s eyes was overflowing. Lily covered her mouth excitedly across from him. She was very pretty. Her shy look was exactly Ethan’s type. “Ethan… I do.” Unknowingly, tears were already on my face. Rolling down my chin. The ring he used to propose was my mother’s heirloom. Ethan, you really impress me. The two kissed under the spotlight, a perfect couple. But, among the dozen people present. Some were drinking, some smoking, some on their phones. No one clapped. Ethan noticed something was wrong, his face darkening. “Why aren’t you guys cheering?” His friends all looked down, acting busy. Ethan looked around, a layer of frost covering his eyes. “You’re proposing to her. What about Ava?” Ethan licked his lips, patted Lucas’s shoulder, and laughed. “Lucas, do you know what a heartbeat feels like?” “Ava has been with you for eight years.” “Shh…” Ethan hushed him. “Don’t mention her on such a happy occasion.” “The past eight years, I was blind, thinking that was love. Meeting Lily, I learned what love is. I want to give her my everything! But Ava?” Ethan looked at his friends, trying to persuade everyone. “Ava is a princess, she doesn’t lack love. But Lily only has me. Do you understand?” “Every time I go home and see Ava’s face, I feel bored.” “Yes, Ava is good, but she’s not the one I want to marry.” No one responded to Ethan. Everyone smoked, heads down, silent. “Ethan… maybe, forget it, we don’t need cheering…” Crash! Ethan threw a glass. “Cheer!” Usually, when Ethan got angry, everyone backed off. But this time, no one humored him. For a moment, I was dazed too. Eight years ago, none of them liked us together. Seeing me, the spoiled rich girl, they never had a nice expression. They even told Ethan to dump me. Eight years passed, and everyone accepted me as their sister-in-law. Everyone except Ethan. Clap, clap, clap. I clapped three times slowly. All eyes turned to me. Ethan’s pupils shrank, panic setting in. “You, why are you here?” Realizing something, Ethan’s face changed. “Who called her?” I walked up to Ethan. Lily stood in front of him. Arms spread, a protective posture. Clearly scared, but bravely shielding him. This look, no man could resist. “Ava sister, it’s all my fault, don’t, don’t blame him…” I reached out and took the necklace off Lily’s neck. “Ethan, didn’t anyone tell you, proposing with a dead person’s item brings bad luck?” 3 “Don’t scare Lily. Let’s talk about this at home.” Saying this, Ethan started grabbing his coat from the sofa. As if he wanted to escape quickly. “Ethan, do I still have a home?” Ethan paused, turning to look at me. He pulled me toward the exit. Lily tried to follow. But Lucas stopped her. In the hallway, the lights were dim. I couldn’t see Ethan’s face clearly. “Lily is young. Her birthday wish this year was for someone to propose to her. I drank too much, I was confused.” I didn’t speak. Ethan hugged me. Usually when I was mad, he would coax and deceive me like this. And every time, I forgave him. He breathed hotly on me. “Wife, don’t be mad.” But he didn’t know. This time, I wouldn’t forgive him. “Then come home with me now.” “Okay! Let’s go home!” Ethan pulled me toward the exit. Lily was right by the door. I knew she could hear. Three, two… Bang! The door opened. Lily collapsed in the hallway. Ethan ran over almost instantly. “Lily!” “Ethan, I’m fine… is Ava sister mad?” Lily grabbed a huge bottle of liquor. “I’ll apologize to Ava sister.” She tilted her head and chugged. 58-proof liquor, she downed half the bottle in one go. To get Ethan’s attention, she really went all out. “Lily!” Ethan snatched the bottle, heartbroken. “Does Ava sister forgive me?” Ethan turned and roared at me, “Say something!” The man who was just cuddling me dropped the act the moment Lily got hurt. “I never blamed you.” Lily coughed, reaching out to me. “Since Ava sister isn’t mad, can I have the necklace back? It was a gift from Ethan.” I immediately pressed my hand on my bag. “This is my mother’s legacy.” “But Ethan gave it to me.” “It seems sister still doesn’t want to forgive me.” Saying this, Lily grabbed the bottle again and started drinking. Ethan was frantic. “Ava, give it to her!” Ethan rushed over, trying to snatch my bag. “This is my mom’s legacy! Can’t you see she’s doing it on purpose?!” Ethan wouldn’t listen to anything. He tugged at my bag like a mad dog. “Ava, can you not be so dirty-minded? Lily is different from you.” “Ava, Lily is just a little girl, can you stop pushing her?” Ethan was too strong. Even though I used all my strength, he snatched the bag. I grabbed at it. Lily grabbed at it too. Finally, the necklace snapped. Silver beads bounced everywhere on the floor. I stared dumbfounded at the two silver beads in my hand. Looking up, I saw the smile on Lily’s lips. Ethan turned and roared at me, “Ava, have you made enough trouble?!” He pinned all the blame on me. He saw through everything, except Lily’s disguise. Maybe realizing he went too far. Ethan looked helplessly at the beads on the floor. He touched my head. “So-sorry, I… I drank too much.” “Tomorrow, I’ll buy you a new one, okay?” Lily was vomiting, clutching her chest. Ethan picked her up and ran out. “Tomorrow at noon, I’ll go with you to buy a new one, okay?” He ran fast, wind blowing past my ears. I looked at the scattered silver beads and laughed, supporting myself against the wall. What’s the difference between Ethan and me, and these silver beads? A seemingly complete family, in the end, scattered like sand. I don’t want the necklace anymore. I don’t want Ethan anymore either. I can’t guarantee I’ll forget you completely. But Ethan, I guarantee you’ll never find me again. “Airline? I want the earliest ticket to the South.” 4 After hanging up, I went back. The earliest flight was in three days. Back home, I packed everything. Whatever I could take, I took. Whatever I couldn’t, I burned. Our photo albums were in the bedside drawer. But one was on Ethan’s desk. He hadn’t been back in a long time; the desk was dusty. But this album was unusually clean. He must look through it when he’s bored, right? I took it to burn with the rest. But I found, scattered inside, photos of him and Lily. The first time Lily visited, she praised our photos. Unexpectedly, they went too. I closed the album and put it back. The wall clock chimed. 5 PM. Ethan broke his promise again. Ding. Julian sent a voice message. “I had the marriage agreement mailed to you. Just sign it.” I composed my expression. Turning around, I found Ethan right behind me. “Who are you chatting with so happily?” I shook my head. Ethan was sweating profusely, soaked through. “Move.” I pushed him to leave. But a complete necklace appeared before my eyes. It was Mom’s necklace. I held it in my hand, looking up at him. “You, you found them?” Ethan scratched his head. “Took forever.” He rubbed his eyes. “Almost went blind finding them.” “So you weren’t back by noon because you were picking up my mom’s necklace?” “What else?” He hugged me gently. “You don’t know how tired I am. Squatting all day, my back is killing me.” “But still missing two beads. Wife, you won’t blame me for being late, right?” Holding my mom’s necklace, my vision blurred. Big tears fell into my palm. I mumbled indistinctly, “Ethan, thank you…” “What are you saying? You’re my fiancée.” I excitedly went into the room. I knew where the missing two beads were. Rummaging through my bag, I found the three beads from yesterday. I smiled excitedly, but realized the color of the silver beads in my hand was completely different from the ones in my bag! The one in my hand also had oxidation marks, but it was different from Mom’s… I squatted on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Ethan, how long are you going to lie to me? What do you take me for? A sound came from the door. “Delivery for Miss Ava Rhodes, please sign.” Soon, Ethan came in. Holding a document envelope. Opening it as he walked. “Why a document delivery? What is it?” My phone kept popping up messages. [Julian: Did you get the marriage agreement?] I looked up sharply, meeting Ethan’s gaze.

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The day the Manhattan heiress proposed to my best friend, he stepped off the skyscraper ledge. “Spencer, I’m sorry, but I have to go home first.” The scene below was a horrifying splash of red against the white marble. Cordelia Hallowell, the usually ice-cold, aristocratic CEO, screamed. She threw herself onto Jude’s body, clinging to him in a frenzy. I merely curled my lips in a wry, mocking smile. I backed up a single step, my heels teetering on the terrace edge. Cordelia’s cousin, Juniper, who was shielded by Cordelia as she cradled a man in her arms, glared up at me. “What, Spencer? Are you trying to use some cheap, tawdry suicide attempt to force Cordelia to marry you, too?” The man was already dead. What use was that slip of a marriage certificate now? Cordelia, you were never my home. I’m ready to leave this stage. I tipped backward, my body plummeting toward the earth. In the instant my weight slammed into the pavement, I heard Cordelia’s raw, gut-wrenching shriek. 1 I didn’t die. The private hospital wholly owned by the Hallowell Group cleared an entire wing just for me. Within twenty-four hours of my fall, a global consortium of top medical experts held a symposium on my condition. And Cordelia Hallowell? She became my shadow, personally supervising my care for an entire month. “Ms. Hallowell truly cares for you, Mr. Hale.” The attending physician’s tone dripped with envy, his gaze falling to my unmoving legs before a flash of pity crossed his face. Yes, Cordelia had spent tens of millions to snatch my life back from the abyss. Unfortunately, money couldn’t solve everything. My legs were useless, and Jude was gone. Lying in that sterile room, the days and nights of semi-consciousness were haunted. I relived the scene of Jude’s jump over and over. He was wearing the simple white t-shirt we’d arrived in—the one he’d worn five years ago. He leaped from the high-rise, looking heartbreakingly beautiful, like an angel embracing freedom. He’d told me, “There’s no home for me here, Spencer. Even if there’s only a fifty percent chance, I have to try.” Five years ago, Jude and I were in a car crash. We woke up here, thrust into this melodrama novel. To “go home” as quickly as possible, Jude nearly destroyed himself. He pulled Juniper Hallowell, the perpetually suicidal, gloomy girl, back into the light. He became her cause. As for me, I spent five years, day in and day out, helping Cordelia—the disgraced, exiled cousin—rise to become the CEO of the Hallowell Group. We had finally done it. The goal was achieved. A month ago, it was Jude’s birthday. When Juniper bowed her proud head and made her tearful confession, I saw the shimmer of unshed tears in Jude’s eyes. Even then, I suspected Jude wouldn’t be coming home with me. But I never thought he would leave me behind like this. Dying before the system’s task was complete meant even the fifty percent chance of returning to our original world would likely result in a shattered body from the car crash. He was decisive. So final. 2 “You’re awake.” The sound of the door closing pulled me back from the void. I looked listlessly at Cordelia as she entered, offering no greeting. She placed the thermal container on the side table, ladled soup into a small bowl, and brought the spoon directly to my lips. “Your favorite beef consommé. I picked out the thyme.” A faint, burnt aroma drifted through the air. I raised an eyebrow, noting the angry red marks on her thumb and forefinger. She had cooked this herself. How novel. Only a month ago, she despised me so much she practically wished me dead. I studied her, oddly intrigued. She was thinner than before. Her eyes were deeply shadowed, which only sharpened the exquisite severity of her features. The look she leveled at me was saturated with self-reproach. My gaze drifted to the doorway. A familiar white t-shirt flashed past. Dax Prescott’s furtive, peering eyes met mine. Ah. No good deed goes unpunished, and no sudden devotion is without a hidden agenda. She was here on behalf of her beloved. For the first time since I woke up, I smiled at Cordelia. A look of relief washed over her, only to freeze when I spoke, my voice devoid of warmth. “Why don’t you invite Dax in? Worried I’ll throw more dirt on him? Don’t worry. My legs are broken. I won’t get a chance to perform an encore.” “Spencer!” Cordelia’s eyes flashed with the chill of a gathering storm. She looked ready to lash out, to reprimand me as she always had. Then she glanced down at my motionless legs, pressed the bridge of her nose, and sighed. “I regret Jude’s death. Dax… he didn’t mean to incite him. None of us knew his depression was so severe. Besides, the Hallowell family couldn’t possibly let June marry someone with a history of that kind of severe mental instability…” Her voice trailed off, a rare moment of guilt crossing her face. I met her eyes with an icy stare and let out a single, contemptuous chuckle. She knew. She knew the whole story. If she hadn’t indulged Dax, he would never have dared to ruin Jude’s proposal. “Jude is dead, Cordelia. That’s an unchangeable fact. Try not to be too upset.” She turned her head away, her lips tightening into a thin red line. “Just focus on getting better. When you’re healed, we’ll get married.” She didn’t dare meet my gaze again. She quickly gathered Dax and left. Before exiting the room, Dax tossed me a look of pure, satisfied provocation. It was the same look he gave Jude and me the day he returned from overseas, a private declaration of war. “Guys, have you heard the expression? The late arrival always triumphs over the long-suffering loyalist. “Trust me. I just have to snap my fingers, and both of them will come running like dogs.” 3 I believed him. Of course, I did. Jude’s mission with Juniper had been a smooth-sailing success, hitting an Affection Rating of 99 in no time. Mine, with Cordelia, was a war of attrition. Cordelia was cold, closed-off. It took me five years and nearly losing my life to save her from a devastating earthquake just to earn one, begrudging line: “You can have the title of my boyfriend, Spencer, but don’t expect anything more.” Jude tried to rationalize it for me. He’d say Cordelia was just reserved, that her Affection Rating hitting 50 was the best proof of her secret devotion. He’d throw an arm around my shoulder, promising that since Juniper’s score was rising quickly, he would wait until Cordelia finally loved me completely. We would go home together. I saw the flicker of reluctance in his eyes even then. I just laughed, teasing him. “We have no family back home anyway. If you really love June, I’ll stay here with you forever. No problem.” I watched his ears turn pink, hiding my own sense of loss. I wasn’t immune to Cordelia. That fragile, nascent feeling, however, was extinguished before it could even take root. By her own hands. In the third year, while accompanying Cordelia on a resort development project, the earthquake hit. When the support beam crashed down, I shoved her toward the only safe recess. In the dark silence underground, my breathing grew shallower with every second. Cordelia finally found a sliver of cell reception. She didn’t call for rescue. She called Dax, who was thousands of miles across the ocean. She didn’t say anything. The silent, desperate confession of love spread through the darkness. The secret, unspeakable depth of her feelings swelled and intensified in the face of death. It was a tidal wave that submerged me and completely extinguished the restless beat of my own heart. 50, 30, 20… Affection Rating: Zero. 4 At the time, I told myself the worst outcome was not being able to go home. Jude still had a choice. As long as he was happy, I was satisfied. Cordelia didn’t visit the next day, only sending a nurse with a custom-made nutrient shake. Undoubtedly, another of her home-cooked masterpieces. She was afraid to see me. She was guilty. Dax, on the other hand, sent a message. [Are you and Jude competing for who can be the bigger joke? One dead, one crippled, and the woman you both wanted is still orbiting me like a puppy. Good riddance.] Attached was a photo. In the frame, Dax wore a tailored tuxedo. Juniper was nestled intimately on his arm, their cheeks pressed together as they smiled for the camera. I recognized the suit. It was the tuxedo Jude had custom-designed for himself for the wedding. Even the enormous, rose-covered archway behind them was a structure Jude had commissioned, built from the pink hybrid roses he’d spent two years cultivating in the Hallowell gardens. Jude had sensed June was finally ready to commit. He’d been secretly preparing this surprise for the proposal day. Instead, on that day, Dax publicly released photos of Jude with other women, announcing that he was going to expose the “gold-digging fraud” to everyone. That was supposed to be the happiest day of Jude’s life. Instead, under the cold, judging stares of the entire social circuit, the color drained from Jude’s face, inch by agonizing inch. Jude snapped, throwing a punch at Dax, only to be shoved hard to the ground by Juniper. “Jude, you knew that woman wasn’t me that night, didn’t you?” It was the first time I had ever seen that raw, naked despair on Jude’s face. He trembled as he stood up. And then, a brilliant splash of crimson erupted from his mouth. 5 Dax followed up the text with a barrage of June’s engagement photos. Apparently not satisfied with just text, he video-called me directly. “Spencer, old friend, I’m so sorry. I love this suit, but my shoulder width is all wrong. Do you think the tailor can rush the alterations before the wedding?” Juniper’s engagement party hadn’t been canceled. I looked at the tuxedo on Dax. He had spent years playing Cordelia and Juniper against each other. A mere frown from him would have two of the world’s most powerful women bending over backward. Was he finally ready to reel in the line? Curious. Ignoring Dax’s taunt, I looked past him at Juniper, who stood silently in the frame. Her features, so strikingly similar to Cordelia’s in their sharp beauty, were marred by a subtle shadow, the same wounded gloom that had marked her before Jude arrived. I glanced down at the system interface on my wrist. Juniper’s entry: Affection Rating: 100. I smiled. “Juniper, want to know why Jude really jumped?” June’s head snapped up. Her eyes held a chilling, manic intensity. “Who said Jude is dead! “We’re getting married in a week! Are you trying to jinx him? Don’t you dare curse him!” Dax’s arrogant expression instantly turned ashen. 6 Juniper was dragged into my hospital room by her hair. When Dax was thrown to the floor, his borrowed suit was shredded, and his famously long, athletic legs were a bloody mess. Blood pooled on the floor, the sight painfully reminiscent of the day Jude died. “Tell me! Where is Jude!” Juniper’s eyes were bloodshot, the whites laced with red. She lunged, clutching my throat. I looked up at the terrifying, pulsing red number above her head, wreathed in black mist. “Jude is dead. He jumped, and as his body turned to pulp, he was still planning his proposal to you. “Oh, wait. I forgot. You didn’t want to marry him because you personally delivered him to the bed of another woman.” Juniper’s grip tightened violently. “I didn’t! “He was planning our wedding! He wouldn’t leave me! If he died, he must have been faking it to make me regret this! “Yes, that’s it! He’s mad at me, so he’s hiding! Isn’t that right? You’re his best friend… Where did you hide him?” June’s words were a torrent. She looked at me with wild, desperate supplication, her grip on my throat increasing, terrified I would offer a negative answer. I was choking, but I laughed anyway. Ha. Jude, she doesn’t believe you’re dead. She can’t. She knows everything, but she refuses to admit it! 7 Just as I was about to pass out, Cordelia burst through the door. She landed a heavy punch into Juniper’s stomach and immediately rushed to check on Dax’s injuries. But when her eyes met my cold, detached stare, her gaze wavered. “Spencer, I…” I looked away, turning my attention to Juniper. The blow from Cordelia seemed to drain her strength. She lay on the floor like a piece of discarded meat, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Bring Jude back,” she whispered. I’d heard she’d lost touch with reality the day Jude died. She had held his corpse all night, until Cordelia had to sedate her and drag her away. The man dies, and now she loves him. Women are pathetic creatures. I tilted my head, smiling as I replied, “Sure. Go ahead and kill Prescott first.” Juniper’s eyes suddenly sparked with manic light. “Spencer!” Cordelia glared at me, ready to argue. But Juniper had already transformed into a beast that had scented blood. She rushed Dax, her eyes burning red. The sound of fists hitting flesh, mixed with Dax’s screams, was surprisingly melodic. I wheeled my chair closer, securing the best viewing spot for the spectacle of a cousin and niece turning on each other over the same man. Jude and I had watched this drama as supporting characters countless times. I had never found it so hilariously absurd. Only after June was finally restrained and dragged away did Cordelia turn to me, her face a mask of dark fury. “Spencer, have you had enough of this circus!” I offered a soft laugh. “I told you. I want Dax Prescott dead.” Cordelia’s chest heaved. She finally dropped the pretense of the devoted, loving partner. Her hands clenched and unclenched, struggling to resist the urge to strike me. “Anything but that. Marriage, or any other condition. I’ll agree to it.” She looked down at me, her tone condescending, full of false generosity. “You’ve helped me for years. Just stop the drama, and we can finally have a real life together.” I looked at her calmly, then slowly offered a faint, tragic smile. “The marriage? I’m walking away. “And Cordelia? I’m walking away from you, too.”

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I woke up, and I had swapped bodies with my dog. Tomorrow was the day I was supposed to take her to be euthanized. But now… My dog—no, my owner—is staring at me through the glass door, her face twisted in a snarl that looks horrifyingly human. She pushes the door open, step by step, walking toward me with madness in her eyes. I see it clearly now. The butcher knife she’s hiding behind her back. She’s going to kill me. 1 Abby is a four-year-old Beagle. When I found her, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. A purebred dog, just wandering the streets? Finders keepers. I hid her in my jacket and ran home, thinking I was lucky. I didn’t know it was the start of a nightmare. The moment we got home, Abby revealed her true form: a demon from the seventh circle of hell. She destroyed my furniture. She screamed like a banshee at 3 AM. She used my Persian rug as a toilet. She was essentially a long-eared donkey with a destruction fetish. I questioned my life choices daily. Why did I have to be so greedy? Cheap things come at a high price. Despite the ruined couch and the noise complaints from the HOA, I stuck to my principles. I adopted her, so I was responsible for her. I cleaned up her messes, paid for the damages, and told myself that with enough love and patience, she would change. Until she bit the first person. Then the second. Then the third. I had to swallow my pride and go door-to-door, apologizing, bowing, begging for forgiveness. I was terrified someone would lose their temper and beat her to death. But what made me angrier was Abby’s attitude. She pranced around like she owned the place, looking at me with eyes that said, “What are you gonna do about it, loser?” My heart grew cold. I knew I couldn’t fix her. I contacted a famous dog trainer in the state, a guy known for handling “red zone” cases. I sent Abby to his boot camp. It was her last chance. If she didn’t change, the neighbors would force me to put her down. For months, I only saw Abby through video calls. The trainer was brutal. In the videos, Abby’s fur was matted with dried blood. One of her teeth had been snapped off by the chain. She was pinned under the trainer’s boot, foaming at the mouth, struggling, screaming. She refused to submit. My baby, whom I had fed by hand, was being broken. My eyes burned. I almost said, “Stop, send her home.” The trainer saw my hesitation. He spat on the ground. “She’s a beast, ma’am. You have to show her who the master is, or she’ll never learn. Don’t worry, she won’t die.” He moved the camera closer to Abby’s face. The misery was magnified. I couldn’t look. “Abby, be good, and your mom will come get you.” Suddenly, Abby looked straight into the camera lens. I swear, she was looking right at me. That look… it was pure hatred. 2 Three months later, the trainer brought Abby back. He also gave me a “gift”—a set of heavy chains and iron rods, much larger than anything I had. I was horrified. But to my surprise, Abby had changed. If the old Abby was a demon, this Abby was an angel. I would have settled for “doesn’t bite,” but she was doing tricks! “Sit,” “Shake,” “Stay”—things I had spent months failing to teach her. It was a miracle. I was ready to nominate the trainer for sainthood. Abby was quiet. No more parkour at midnight. No more noise complaints. She didn’t resource guard anymore. She wouldn’t snap at me when I filled her bowl. Even though I still had to walk her at 3 AM to avoid the neighbors, I was moved to tears. This was it. Life was finally good. I started to relax. I took off the heavy chain. I let her roam the house freely. I thought, She’s a good dog now. I should trust her. And Abby repaid that trust by destroying my life. One morning, while I was taking out the trash, Abby slipped through the crack in the door. She ran straight into the neighbor’s little granddaughter in the hallway. When I got off the elevator, I saw a scene from a horror movie. Abby was on top of the little girl, her jaws locked onto the child’s scalp. I could see the white of the skull where the skin had been torn away. Blood was everywhere. “Help… help me…” The girl was sobbing, her voice fading. She looked at me with desperate eyes. Abby growled, her teeth dripping red. She looked at me with pure provocation. Then she yanked her head back. A piece of the girl’s scalp tore off with a sickening sound. “AHHH!” The girl screamed and passed out. I threw myself at Abby. She turned on me instantly. She bit my arm, her canines sinking deep, almost piercing through to the other side. Adrenaline flooded my system. I grabbed Abby by the throat, my fingers digging into her loose skin. I squeezed with everything I had. My nails cut into her flesh. Abby’s eyes rolled back. She was choking. 3 The neighbor heard the noise and rushed out, pulling us apart. I didn’t have time to explain. I pointed at the unconscious girl. “Call 911! Now!” In the chaos, Abby slipped away down the stairwell. I was too panicked to chase her. I rode in the ambulance with the girl. By the time I remembered Abby, it was too late. I called the police and animal control. Thankfully, the girl survived. But the guilt was eating me alive. It was my fault. I brought Abby home. I kept her. I was naive enough to think she could change. She never changed. She just learned to act. She had been waiting for this moment to hurt me. Her teeth were meant for my throat. The neighbor’s girl was just collateral damage. “Ms. Lane,” the girl’s mother said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “We appreciate you saving her. But we cannot allow that dog to live in this building. We are pressing charges.” “I understand. I’ll cooperate.” I gave up. A beast is a beast. My mercy was a mistake. “I will pay for all the medical bills and the plastic surgery. I am so, so sorry.” The woman nodded and walked away. After getting my rabies shot, I went to the police station. They had caught Abby. She was in a cage, barking maniacally at the officers, foam and blood dripping from her mouth. She looked like a rabid monster. When she saw me, she stopped. She lowered her body, a low growl rumbling in her chest. Her tail was tucked, but her eyes were locked on me. Attack mode. The officer yanked her chain and kicked the cage. “Ms. Lane, do you want us to handle this?” I sighed, shaking my head. “I’ve caused enough trouble. I’ve already scheduled the euthanasia for tomorrow. Since I failed her as an owner, I should be the one to send her off.” It was the last dignity I could give her. “Heh-heh-heh!” Abby made a strange, chortling sound. It sounded like she was laughing at my stupidity. 4 I shouldn’t have been soft. I took Abby home and locked her on the balcony. Tomorrow, we would go to the vet. But the next morning, when I opened my eyes, I was lying on the balcony floor. Everything looked huge. The railing, the plants, the door. My body felt wrong. I ran to the glass door and looked at my reflection. A Beagle stared back at me. I was my dog! This had to be a dream. But the cold tile under my paws felt too real. Click. The balcony door unlocked. “I” walked out. The human “me” was smiling—a twisted, wrong smile. Her eyes were full of excitement. I backed away, my legs trembling. We had swapped bodies. “Abby, time to go to the hospital.” The human crouched down slowly, extending a hand. Her expression shifted into something crazed. In the reflection of the glass, I saw what she was holding behind her back. A butcher knife. She was going to kill me! I ducked under her legs and sprinted for the front door. My only thought: Run! The door was locked. The human “Abby” jingled the keys in her hand. “You can’t run.” She lunged at me. She wasn’t moving like a human anymore. She was crawling on all fours, scrambling across the floor like a spider, knife raised high. It was worse than any horror movie. She swung the knife down at my head. I dodged instinctively. THUNK. The knife buried itself in the wooden door. She couldn’t pull it out. She looked around the room, grinning, and grabbed the iron rod I had hidden behind the sofa. The one the trainer gave me. She knew it was there. She walked toward me, swinging the rod wildly. The living room was being destroyed. I was cornered. She was going to kill me. She hated me. The front door was a dead end. I looked at the balcony. The sliding door was still open. I lived on the eighth floor. But I had no choice. I bit her leg hard. While she screamed, I bolted to the balcony, jumped onto a planter, and leaped over the railing. Weightlessness. Then—CRASH. I hit something hard. I looked up. The human “Abby” was looking down from the balcony, glaring with pure malice. She was coming down. I had to move. I tried to stand, but a net fell over me.

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Waking up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, I started scrolling through a social media thread. The title was: 【Day One of a Gen-Xer chasing a Gen-Z beauty—Hiding in her toilet to secretly enjoy her scent.】 A chill ran down my spine. Thinking it was just some creepy old man’s disgusting fantasy, I recoiled in disgust and swiped away. After washing my hands, I realized I’d misplaced my phone. I called out to my voice assistant to find it: “Hey, Siri.” The next second, my body went numb. Two Siri voices answered simultaneously from within the bathroom. “I’m here.” “I’m here.” One came from the crack behind the sink. The other came from inside the toilet. 1 I froze, my heart beating so hard I thought it would burst. The one behind the sink was mine. But whose phone was in the toilet? My mind flashed back to the post I just saw. A wave of cold air crawled up my vertebrae. Was there actually someone hiding in my bathroom? I mustered the courage to inspect the toilet. It was solid porcelain—no cracks, no hidden compartments. The tank was larger, but there was no way a grown man could fit inside. I let out a shaky breath, mocking myself for being paranoid after reading that sick post. My nerves were just shot. But just as I turned to head back to my bedroom— Rustle… rustle… In the silence, the faint sound of fabric rubbing against fabric drifted from the toilet area. My muscles tensed. I slowly turned my head. The toilet sat there, perfectly normal. Nothing out of place. To settle my mind once and for all, I shouted again: “Hey, Siri!” “I’m here.” This time, only the phone on the sink responded. Complete silence from the toilet. I sighed. I’d been working too many double shifts at the hospital. Auditory hallucinations. Back in my room, I closed my eyes but sleep wouldn’t come. Possessed by a dark curiosity, I opened the app again and clicked on that thread. The skin on my arms pebbled instantly. The user had updated two minutes ago. 【The beauty just came to the bathroom. I was right under her. I could smell her… she smells so sweet!】 【That pink silk pajama set is too cute. I can already imagine holding her while we sleep.】 I looked down at my brand-new pink pajamas. My stomach churned, and my heart began to hammer against my ribs. 2 This couldn’t be a coincidence. It was too specific. My fingers trembling, I scrolled up to find the description of the “target.” Born in 2000. Big eyes, pale skin. 5’7″. A nurse at the City General Hospital. That was me. Every single word. But the user claimed he lived on the same floor of the same building—that they saw each other every day. There are only four apartments on my floor. Across the hall, the two units are dark and caked in dust, clearly empty. My only neighbor is Mrs. King, a single mom with a small child. There are no adult men on this floor, let alone a “Gen-Xer.” Still, a deep, primal fear took hold. I typed a comment with shaking hands: “Aren’t you afraid her family will come after you for doing something so disgusting?” I waited. No reply. I scrolled through the other comments. Half were calling him a freak; the other half were asking how he fit in a toilet. But a few twisted users were egging him on: 【Bro, you’re already in her house. Why hesitate? Fortune favors the bold. Do it!】 【Exactly. You’re holding your breath in a toilet just for a scent? Just push the door open and claim her. She’ll be yours by morning. It’s a rush!】 The original poster replied almost instantly: 【You’re right. I’m taking her tonight!】 A split second later. Thud. A soft sound came from the direction of the bathroom. Then… tap, tap, tap, tap… Light, rhythmic footsteps were moving from the bathroom toward my bedroom. Someone was actually in my house. I stopped breathing. I lunged for the bedroom door and slammed the lock shut. Tap, tap, tap… The footsteps stopped right outside my door. Every floorboard creak felt like a gunshot. I pressed myself against the wall, sweat pouring down my face. The doorknob turned slowly. Creak. I covered my mouth with both hands, terrified of making a sound. The knob rattled again, more insistently this time. I thanked God I had locked it. But before I could feel relief, a low, faint chuckle drifted through the wood. My phone screen lit up. A notification from the app. He had replied to my comment. 【I’m not afraid of her family. She’s an orphan. She has no one.】 3 Terror swallowed me whole. It was me. I was raised in an orphanage. I had no family. The comment confirmation was the final nail. The predator was standing inches away. BAM! BAM! BAM! The door shook under a violent kick. Then another. He must have grabbed a tool because the wood began to splinter. CRACK. “Ms. Madison, I’ve loved you for so long. Just open the door!” The voice was deep, raspy, and dripping with excitement. It was a voice I had never heard in my life. The door was just cheap wood. He was going to break through. I ran to the balcony. Fifteen floors up. The height made my head spin, but the door behind me was already showing a hole. I climbed over the railing, my hands death-gripped on the cold metal. CRASH! The bedroom door gave way. In the final second, I swung myself out, grabbing onto the external fire pipe and shimmying toward the hallway window. My apartment is right next to the stairwell. I scrambled through the open hallway window. I saw the elevator was down on the 1st floor. I couldn’t wait. I turned to the stairs. I had only made it down one flight when— STOMP. STOMP. STOMP. Heavy, frantic footsteps echoed from above. He was coming for me. I ducked into a janitor’s closet on the 14th floor. I huddled in the corner behind mops and buckets, sending a 911 text with trembling thumbs. The footsteps thundered past the door. They didn’t stop. They kept going down. I let out a sob of relief. My body slumped. Then, my phone began to blare. The ringtone was deafening in the cramped space. An unknown number. It had to be him. He was using the ringtone to find me. The footsteps downstairs stopped instantly. 4 I silenced the phone, but it was too late. The footsteps were racing back up. He was only one floor away. I couldn’t outrun him now. My brain went into overdrive. I needed a weapon. I needed a distraction. My eyes landed on an old toolbox in the corner. Inside were wrenches, screwdrivers, and several unsealed bottles of industrial cleaning solvent. I grabbed a bottle and a rag. An improvised Molotov. I soaked the rag in the solvent, the acrid smell filling my lungs. As the footsteps reached the door, I sparked my lighter. The rag caught. I hurled the bottle at the door just as it swung open. SHATTER! The bottle clipped his shoulder before exploding on the floor. “Damn it!” the man screamed. Smoke and blue flames erupted in the doorway. I didn’t wait. I dove out the small closet window, clinging to the gas line pipe outside. My hands were numb against the freezing metal. Inside, the fire was small but the smoke was thick. I heard him coughing, cursing. I looked down. 13th floor. The balconies below were all glass-enclosed. No way in. I was trapped on a pipe. “Ms. Madison! Catch this!” I looked up. My neighbor, Mrs. King, was leaning over her railing, throwing down a makeshift rope made of bedsheets. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the rope, tested its strength, and hauled myself up. Scrape. Scrape. The man had reached the balcony below me. I felt something strike the heel of my shoe. I pulled my legs up, heart hammering, and finally rolled over Mrs. King’s railing. She pulled me inside and slammed the sliding door shut. “Don’t worry,” she panted. “I’m a single mom. I had this place reinforced with high-impact security glass and deadbolts. He’s not getting in.” I nodded, gasping for air. Sure enough, we heard a muffled thud against the door, followed by a stream of low-frequency curses. After a few futile attempts, the noise stopped. Soon, sirens wailed below. The police had arrived. Following my directions, they swarmed the building and caught a man in the lobby. He was tall, dressed as a delivery driver, covered in soot, with singed pant legs. Even as they cuffed him, he stared at me with a terrifying intensity. A delivery guy? Why did it still feel wrong?

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One week before the engagement. I scrolled through TikTok and found Lucas in the comment section, reminiscing about his ex-girlfriend who ghosted him. We’ve been in love for three years, but he was always distant and indifferent to me. I thought it was just his personality, until I saw these lines: [Although we were online dating, we loved each other deeply for two years.] [Later we agreed to meet at a cafe, I waited all day but no one came, finally she blocked me.] [Now I’m about to get engaged, only to find out she is my fiancée’s best friend. She broke up with me because she knew I was my fiancée’s crush and didn’t want to hurt her, but I’m even more unwilling to let go.] My heart sank. Turns out Lucas wasn’t close to me because his heart was always occupied by someone else. What’s more ridiculous is, my best friend kept this from me for three whole years… Chapter 1 In the comment section, netizens were giving Lucas advice. [Bro, go for it if you love her, what does engagement count for? As long as not married, there’s still a chance!] [If you can’t let go, chase her! At worst tear the face, better than regretting for a lifetime!] [She left back then not to hurt your fiancée, means she has you in her heart, go!] And I watched Lucas’s reply: [You guys are right, I’ll try tonight.] My whole body went cold. My heart was also submerged in cold water at this moment. Before I could think more, the bathroom door was gently pushed open. My best friend Chloe walked out. She still carried the steam from just showering. Hair wetly draped over her shoulders, “When you get married later, I won’t be able to come to your house to shower anymore, boo hoo…” “Blame that guy Lucas, snatching away my favorite baby.” I looked at her, momentarily in a trance. Chloe and I grew up together, close as sisters. Moreover, she and Lucas never got along. Could it really be that I misunderstood something? “Chloe, that online relationship of yours back then, why did you break up suddenly?” Chloe froze for a moment. Then smiled, tone casual: “Why else? Got bored, online dating isn’t interesting anyway.” A light sentence, but like a tranquilizer. Making the stone in my heart land. Yes, I must be overthinking. How could Lucas’s ex-girlfriend be Chloe? Just a coincidence. But just as I relaxed. Chloe’s phone on the sofa suddenly rang. After seeing the message clearly, her face flushed red instantly. Replied quickly. Looked up at me, eyes dodging, “Baby, can I borrow some of your makeup?” “Have a date tonight, I might come back late, or maybe… won’t come back.” My heart skipped a beat. “Who are you dating?” Chloe was perfunctory: “Just someone I like very much, tell you later, okay?” Sourness surged in my heart. I couldn’t help asking: “Can you not go? Stay with me tonight okay?” My voice was very light, carrying a trace of pleading. But Chloe reacted like her tail was stepped on. Frowned instantly, “Sarah, can you stop making a scene?” “Do I have to revolve around you all the time, yield to you in everything?” I stared at her blankly, unable to say a word. Chloe ignored me, rummaged through my makeup on her own. Sat in front of the vanity table dressing up. I turned back to the room, opened that TikTok comment section again. Lucas’s latest comment appeared prominently on the screen. [She agreed, we go to the hotel tonight to clear things up.] Comments below were more, all blessing and jeering. [Awesome bro, go!] [Even if can’t marry, being a couple for one night is good, otherwise too pity.] [Wish you lovers finally get together!] Tears couldn’t help falling down. Just then, a hotel reservation message popped up on my phone. It was Lucas’s Authorized User Card. This card was given by me when I pursued him. Lucas didn’t know, I receive notifications for all his consumption. Booking a hotel, I know too. Heart at this moment, completely shattered… I sat on the floor, countless images flashing in my mind. Remembered bits and pieces of me and Lucas together for three years. He never holds my hand. Never hugs me. Even sleeping, we sleep in separate rooms. I once secretly asked Chloe, is Lucas sexually cold? Chloe comforted me with a smile then. Patting my shoulder saying: “Silly, he is respecting you, shows he is a gentleman, doesn’t want to do anything to you before marriage.” I smiled, smiled until tears flowed into the corner of my mouth, salty and astringent. Turns out not respect, just dislike. Just because his heart holds someone else. So even touching me, he feels dirty. Then, I trembled fingers, clicked open Lucas’s WeChat. His screen name has always been July since long ago. I once foolishly asked him, “Is it because we got together in July, so you use this screen name?” But Lucas just patted my head then, smiling said: “Guess.” Now, I finally guessed it. July. Sounds like Ju-Li (Qi Yue’s Chinese pronunciation hint, or simple substitution). Or maybe it was C-H-L-O-E all along in another form. Turns out Lucas’s screen name was never to commemorate us. Just to commemorate the person in his heart. And my three years of love, from beginning to end, was just a joke. Tears blurred vision. I sniffled, decided to give Lucas one last chance. [Come accompany me tonight okay?] I stared at the screen, waited for a long, long time. One minute, ten minutes, half an hour. Message like stone sinking into sea, no echo at all. My heart also died slowly. Until night. Chloe’s voice came from the living room. She said goodbye to me, tone carrying unconcealable joy: “I’m leaving, contact you later!” I didn’t respond. Don’t know how long passed, phone lit up again. A hotel check-in notification popped up. I looked at this line of words, the last bit of light in my heart, completely extinguished. Couldn’t even shed tears anymore. Long time later, I stood up slowly. Walked to the desk, picked up the phone, dialed the hotel number. “Trouble you cancel the engagement ceremony in seven days.” Hung up, clicked open chat with Dad. Dad’s message stayed at three months ago. He asked me: “Baby, want to come to Paris to find us? Dad misses you.” I am from a single-parent family, grew up with Dad. Dad moved abroad for development before, wanted to take me along. But my reply then was: “Dad, I can’t go, I have Lucas here, have Chloe, have everything I can’t bear to leave.” But now, I sent to him, [Dad, I regret it, I am willing to find you.] As for Lucas and Chloe, I don’t want them anymore. Isn’t it just three years? I give it to them. Dad replied quickly, “Good you thought it through, when coming? Dad pick you up at airport.” I stared at the screen, eyes sore, “Seven days later, depart as soon as visa done.” Chapter 2 Sleepless night. I opened eyes till dawn. Chest seemed blocked, suffocated breathless. Not a trace of sleepiness. Next morning, Lucas came back. Seemed guilty because of “cheating”, Even unprecedentedly brought me breakfast. “Sarah, I didn’t see the message you sent yesterday, don’t be angry.” But I didn’t speak, didn’t want to look at him either. For three years, every time I messaged him, he was like this. Reply a sentence if mood good. Treat as invisible if mood bad. Lucas thought, as long as he explains lightly. I would comfort him saying it’s okay like before. But this time, I only felt irony in my heart. And Lucas seemed not to detect my coldness. Walked straight to me, handed breakfast over. “Brought you Lamb Gyro, taste it?” Seeing the shop packaging clearly, my stomach turned upside down. Chloe’s favorite is the Lamb Gyro from this shop. But I am allergic to lamb. For full three years, I told Lucas this countless times. But he actually till now, hasn’t remembered. Next second, I raised hand waving his hand away. Breakfast bag fell on ground, Gyro rolled out too. Lucas’s face sank instantly, “Sarah, what crazy fit are you throwing early morning?” “I brought you breakfast out of kindness, you don’t eat is fine, actually threw it?” Hearing this, my grievance and anger accumulated for three years, exploded completely at this moment. “Get out, I don’t want to see you.” Lucas froze, obviously didn’t expect I would be like this. Face iron-green, turned and slammed door leaving. A while later, best friend Chloe came over. On her neck, there was a hickey not yet covered in time. Red dazzling. “Sarah, what happened? You quarreled with Lucas? He came to find me just now, face looked very ugly.” I endured discomfort, asked: “Who was the person dating you yesterday?” Chloe froze. Then smiled, “What? Jealous? It’s that online dating partner before, he came to find me.” I looked at her, heart cold as ice, “You preparing to get back together?” Chloe shook head, face carrying an inexplicable pride. “Get back together? Impossible. We are not suitable.” “He also can’t bear letting me walk into marriage, doesn’t want me to suffer those daily necessities pain.” “Besides I won’t marry in this life, just want to date forever, live a free life.” Yes, Chloe is anti-marriage. Before, every time I said wanting to engage with Lucas. Chloe always sarcastic, “What’s good about marriage? Later you will be trapped by family, good days will end.” But turns out, she wasn’t worrying for me. It was for her own selfishness. Now I haven’t married yet, they did such disgusting thing. At this moment, she and I, can’t count as friends anymore. “I’m not feeling well, you go out too.” Chloe seemed not to hear. Still wanted to pull my hand, “Aiya, don’t be angry, let me tell you some secrets.” “Anyway you and Lucas will experience this later, that male netizen last night, technique really good.” “Made me climax several times, mouth dry…” Huge sense of humiliation hit. Unbearable, I raised hand slapped her face, “Shut up!” Chloe covered face. Looking at me in disbelief, eyes red instantly. “Sarah, why did you hit me?” Just then, door was pushed open violently. Lucas returned, just heard this sentence. And saw Chloe’s reddened cheek. Next second, he lost reason. Rushed over choking my neck, “Why not apologize to Chloe quickly?” Suffocation surged overwhelmingly. Face flushed red, wanted to struggle. But no strength. Until few minutes later, my tears fell uncontrollably. Coughed violently, almost fainting. Lucas finally detected something wrong, let go. I fell sitting by bed, covering neck gasping heavily. Looking at my embarrassed appearance, Lucas tone somewhat panicked. But still stubborn: “I was just afraid you cause trouble, Chloe is outsider after all, you shouldn’t have hit her.” At this time, Chloe sniffled. Covered face crying ran out. Like suffered huge grievance. Lucas looked at me, then at Chloe’s back at door. Brows furrowed tight. Finally, he still lifted foot chased out, Didn’t give me another look. I supported wall, stood up slowly. Walked to French window. Few minutes later, Lucas and Chloe appeared downstairs together. Chloe threw herself into Lucas’s arms. Aggrievedly pounding his chest, mouth crying something unknown. And Lucas lowered head, reached out hugging her waist. And kissed her lips deeply. This scene, like a knife, gouging my heart fiercely. I took out phone tremblingly, took photo. Last bit of affection remaining for them, also disappeared completely. Chapter 3 Following days, Lucas and I started cold war. But I lived exceptionally calm. Packed my clothes, books and odds and ends one by one. Contacted international express. Sent all luggage to Dad abroad. Looking at gradually emptying home. Big stone pressed in heart for long time, finally landed. Five years ago, Lucas and I were college classmates. I fell in love with him at first sight. I am very silly, so allowed him to hurt me again and again. So also gave Lucas the illusion I would never leave. But he didn’t know, once I decide to give up. Really won’t look back. … These days, Chloe’s Moments updated very frequently. All daily dating routine of her and “Male Netizen” Lucas. Shopping in mall together, Lucas buying limited edition bags for her. Going to amusement park together, Chloe laughing happily on carousel. They even went to jewelry store together, bought a Tiffany diamond ring. Caption: “He said even without marriage, I can possess such happiness.” I clicked open to see one by one, and saved one by one. Masochistically reminding myself again and again, How ridiculous these three years were. Also telling myself, never forgive them. Seven days time, flashed by. I dragged the last suitcase, went to airport. Before security check, phone rang. Lucas called, finally found engagement ceremony cancelled. He questioned me exasperatedly: “Sarah, what exactly are you doing? Cancelled engagement venue, isn’t cold war these days enough to calm anger?” And I hooked a cold smile. “Lucas, you still have face to find me?” “Let’s break up, what you and Chloe did, really think I don’t know?” Finished, I hung up directly. Turned off phone, stuffed into bag. Half an hour later, boarded. Moment flying into clouds, my tight nerves finally relaxed. Never see again, Lucas. From now on mountains high waters long, I am free. Other side, Lucas broke out in cold sweat. He never expected, Sarah actually knew everything. Just then, assistant called, “Mr. Lucas, bad news! Internet all spread, matter of you cheating with fiancée’s best friend, already rushed to top trending!” “Now company stock price plunging, shareholders all clamoring to dismiss your position…” Lucas heard assistant’s words, instantly struck by lightning. “What did you say? How possible…” He never thought, Sarah would really leave. Even less expected, she would poke their matter to internet. He dialed Sarah again in panic. Receiver came cold mechanical voice: “The user you dialed has blocked you.” Blocked. These words made Lucas vision black. Huge panic and despair. Instantly pinched his heart, making him almost breathless. He stumbled back two steps. Collapsed on sofa. Hands shaking badly, barely opened Twitter. Top trending. Hanging conspicuously tag of Lucas cheating fiancée’s best friend. Behind, followed a glaring “Explosive”. Clicked in, screen full of photos of him and Chloe. That one kissing downstairs. Angle tricky, captured two’s intimate posture clearly. Scene of him carrying bags for Chloe in mall. Chloe smiling sweetly, holding his arm. And in jewelry store, two whispering over diamond ring. Even screenshots of that TikTok comment section, dug out by people. [Although we were online dating, we loved each other deeply for two years.] [Now I’m about to get engaged, only to find out she is my fiancée’s best friend… but I’m even more unwilling to let go.] [You guys are right, I’ll try tonight.] [She agreed, we clear things up in hotel tonight.] Looking at comments one by one, made Lucas only feel suffocated. And netizens’ abuse, even more overwhelming. [WTF, this man too scumbag right? About to engage still thinking of fiancée’s best friend?] [Values shattered! What unwilling to let go? Is this excuse for cheating?] [Heartache for Sarah, betrayed by most loved person and best friend same time, too miserable.] [Lucas get out of business world, such scum unworthy of owning company!] Lucas’s fingertips slid across screen. Every comment, like needle pricking into his heart. Phone ringtone, suddenly rang crazily. Company directors and partners, Media reporters and countless angry netizens. Ringtones one after another. Like life-demanding spells, noisy making his head splitting pain. He answered a call irritably, just said hello. Opposite came director’s exasperated roar: “Lucas, look at what good thing you did? Do you know how much company stock dropped? If you don’t solve quickly, we can only dismiss your position!” Phone hung up violently. Lucas’s chest heaved violently, face pale as paper. Just then, WeChat notification sounded. Sent by Chloe, tone carrying crying and panic, [Lucas, what to do? Internet all our matter, contact Sarah quickly, let her delete post. I was blocked by her, can’t find her at all!] [That bitch, actually dared to setup us! Knew she had no good intention!] Looking at word “bitch”, Lucas’s anger “whoosh” shot up. He almost gritted teeth, replied one word: [Shut up.] And Chloe scared by his tone. Immediately sent a string of aggrieved messages: [You fierce to me? Lucas, you actually fierce to me for that bitch?] Lucas looked at screen, heart seemed tightened by something. He didn’t not love Sarah. These three years, Sarah’s good, he didn’t not see. She would cook hot porridge waiting him home when he worked overtime. Would remember all his preferences, even remembering clearly he hates cilantro. Would take care of him without undressing when he was sick. He really wanted to live well with her. Entangling with Chloe, just because that bit of unwillingness in heart. Also wanted to indulge completely once last time before engagement. Then collect heart, be Sarah’s husband well. But Lucas never thought, matter would escalate to this step. Even less expected, Sarah would be so decisive. Then he took deep breath, dialed assistant’s phone, Voice hoarse badly: “Immediately, right now, suppress trending for me! At all costs!” “Also, send people check Sarah’s whereabouts, where she went, what car took, where lives, I want know all her tracks.” Assistant dared not neglect, agreed repeatedly.

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It was the day before Christmas Eve, and Grant had finally agreed to file the marriage license. But on the way to City Hall, he suddenly slammed on the brakes. I looked at him, my brow furrowed in confusion. He calmly lit a cigarette, the smoke curling between us. “We can’t do this, Ainsley,” he said, his voice flat. “My ex-wife is back, and she brought the kid. I quietly remarried her yesterday to get Zane’s health insurance and custody situation sorted.” My face went white, but Grant simply flicked the ash off his cigarette, his tone radiating self-justification. “It’s a paper marriage, Ainsley. It’s only for Zane. You’ve always been so mature and reasonable; I know you understand.” “The wedding is still on, you’ll wear the ring, and nothing between us has changed—except for that piece of paper.” Looking at the arrogant, utterly unfamiliar man sitting next to me, my stomach lurched. It was a dizzying, sickening roll. I had been about to tell him we were having the child we’d both longed for. But now, he didn’t deserve to know. And this marriage, the sham of it, was over before it began. … I took a deep, shaky breath, fighting down the wave of nausea. My voice was a dry rasp. “So, Grant…” “When you walked into that courthouse yesterday, did you think, even for one second, that you were supposed to be walking into the same place with me today?” Grant put out the cigarette, his expression tight, as if genuinely surprised by my question. “Ainsley, don’t make this complicated.” “Camille and I were a business merger, nothing more. We divorced because the feeling wasn’t there. This quick remarriage was the fastest way to handle Zane’s complicated legal issues. You’re the one who always said you hate unnecessary drama.” I used to go out of my way to keep him from worrying about work—always focused on the positive. He called me understanding; he called me low-maintenance. Now, my kindness was the knife he was twisting into me. I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “So, to avoid ‘unnecessary drama,’ I’m supposed to simply accept that my fiancé is now, legally, someone else’s husband, days before our wedding?” “Grant, what am I to you?” Grant reached for me, but I pulled away. His hand hung awkwardly in the air. He sighed, pulling his hand back to his side. “Ainsley, five years. Are you really going to let five years of love crumble over a technicality?” “You know how I’ve been with you. I love you. I want to build a life with you. That hasn’t changed.” I remembered a year ago, when we’d passed an upscale baby boutique. He’d pulled me inside and held a tiny pair of pink leather shoes, completely captivated. “Ainsley, as soon as we get married, we have to try for a baby right away.” “I can’t wait to see a little version of you calling me Dad.” The hope then had been real. The betrayal now was just as real. I took a breath, my hand instinctively resting on my still-flat belly. I asked, my voice barely a whisper, “And the child? Once the papers are done, then what? You’re just going to keep this legal arrangement indefinitely?” Seeing a glimmer of softening in my tone, Grant relaxed. He spoke with the easy confidence of a man who knows he’s winning. “Zane’s immune system is fragile, and Camille can’t manage his specialist care alone.” “I’ll set them up in the Brooklyn brownstone, hire a full-time caregiver, and I’ll go over once or twice a week.” “Ainsley, you have my word: the majority of my time will be with you, and with our home.” Our home? I chewed on those words, the taste of them metallic and sharp. How does a married man offer another woman a home? His phone rang then. It was his mother. Grant answered, his voice instantly warm. “Yes, Mom, we’re on the way. I’m bringing Ainsley over for dinner later.” He hung up, turned the car around without asking my permission, and started driving. “My mother’s health isn’t great, and you’re her favorite. Everyone knows about the wedding. You don’t want to disappoint her, do you?” I looked at his familiar profile, and a chill settled deep in my bones. For his mother’s sake, for his son’s sake, for the sake of keeping his life neatly compartmentalized. I was, yet again, left with only one acceptable option: to be the reasonable, accommodating one. The knot of acid in my stomach twisted violently. I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from gagging. Grant’s family estate. The moment we walked in, Mrs. Sterling pulled me close, beaming. “Ainsley, darling, you’re here! Quick, Maria just finished a special batch of that imported organic tonic. Drink it while it’s warm, sweetie.” She was completely oblivious. In her mind, tomorrow was her son’s glorious day. At the dinner table, Grant played the role of the perfect husband-to-be. He peeled the shrimp, carved the roast, and poured the wine. Every action was smooth, practiced, and attentive. “Ainsley, the garlic prawns are your favorite. Have some more.” Mrs. Sterling placed a generous serving onto my plate. I forced down the rising nausea and managed a strained smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Sterling.” “Mrs. Sterling? Tomorrow you call me Mom!” she teased. Grant’s hand paused on the table, then he quickly smiled and chimed in, “That’s right, you’ll finally have to change that.” He looked at me, his eyes carrying both a warning and a desperate plea. He was betting on my kindness, betting that I wouldn’t dare break his mother’s fragile heart. After dinner, Mrs. Sterling pulled me into her study with a secretive air. She opened a heavy safe and took out a red velvet box. Inside, nestled on the satin, was a heavy, vintage platinum-and-diamond bangle—the kind that held immeasurable generational value. “Ainsley, this is the Sterling family heirloom, passed down to the wife.” She didn’t wait for my response, sliding the cold, heavy band onto my wrist. “I can see that Grant truly loves you.” “He was such a restless soul before you. You settled him, made him into a man.” Mrs. Sterling patted my hand, her eyes glistening. “Now, you two promise me you’ll make me a grandmother soon. My heart, I don’t know how long it will last…” I stared at the blinding sparkle on my wrist, my throat constricting as if plugged with cotton. The word no burned on my tongue, but I swallowed it, choking it down. My secret, the knowledge of the baby in my womb, felt impossibly heavy. The grandchild she wished for was already here. Too bad her son had, just yesterday, personally ensured that child would be born a technical bastard. Later that night, back in our penthouse, Grant was slightly tipsy. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, his liquor-scented kisses landing on my neck. “Baby…” I went rigid, a wave of pure, physical revulsion washing over me. The acid rush returned to my throat. I pushed him away hard and ran to the bathroom, dry-heaving into the toilet. Grant followed, rubbing my back awkwardly. “What’s wrong? Did the prawns not agree with you?” I splashed cold water on my face, looking at my pale, drawn reflection in the mirror. “Grant, don’t touch me.” He froze, his face hardening. “Still making a scene? Ainsley, I thought you’d come around.” I turned, backing up against the vanity, putting as much distance between us as possible. “Grant, I need to know: in your plan, what exactly am I?” “A trophy wife you can show off but can’t legally claim? Or just a convenient accessory to help you smooth over your life?” He lit a cigarette, his expression one of mounting irritation. “I told you, I can give you everything but that paper. Company shares, properties, all my liquid assets—they’re yours.” “Camille is just a responsibility.” Always responsibility. “And what is your responsibility to me?” “What I feel for you is love!” He roared the word, sounding like a deeply aggrieved man. “Ainsley, don’t push me.” “You know how much my mother loves you. Her heart condition is real.” “If you leave me and something happens to her because of the shock… do you really want that responsibility? You’re a good woman; you care about her like a mother, right?” “And let’s not forget your father. His specialist kidney care, the exclusive palliative wing—I handle all of that. Without me, can you guarantee that level of care for him?” The veneer of love fell away, leaving behind only the cold, hard mechanics of threat and calculation. He knew my weaknesses. My kindness, my empathy, my reluctance to create a scene. These qualities he’d once praised were now the sharpest tools in his arsenal. Each word was a cut, leaving me bloody and raw. I looked at the man standing before me. Suddenly, I realized I hadn’t known him at all for the last five years. “Fine,” I heard myself say, the word flat and lifeless. “I won’t make a scene.” Grant let out a huge sigh of relief, moving toward me to hug me. “I knew it. You’re the best, Ainsley.” I stepped aside, avoiding his touch, and pointed toward the guest suite. “But I can’t look at you right now. Sleep in the guest room.” His face tightened again, but to placate me, he nodded. “Okay, fine. Get some rest.” The moment the door closed, I slid down the wall, sinking to the floor. I looked at the heavy diamond bangle on my wrist. The tears finally came, an unstoppable torrent. To reassure me and, perhaps, himself that our situation was now manageable, Grant actually suggested I meet Camille. He took me to the Brooklyn brownstone—the place where we had lived during the lean, exciting days of building his company. Now, it housed his legal wife and his child. He opened the door. The once familiar, minimalist space was now decorated in a cozy, hygge style. Camille was administering an inhaler to a little boy. She wore simple cotton loungewear, makeup-free, her hair pulled back in a casual bun. She looked up, saw me, and gave a calm, measured nod. “Come in, Ainsley. It’s a bit of a mess, but don’t worry about it.” The boy was small, maybe five or six, and he looked exactly like Grant. He hid shyly behind Camille’s legs and whispered, “Daddy.” Grant walked over naturally. He knelt to check Zane’s breathing, then got a glass of water, which he skillfully helped the boy drink, wiping the corner of his mouth. It was the practiced, ingrained familiarity of a father. I stood in the doorway, feeling like a clumsy intruder. I watched their picture of quiet domesticity. Was this the “responsibility” he claimed had no emotion attached? While Grant took Zane into the bedroom to look for a toy, Camille offered me a glass of warm water and sat across from me in the living room. “Honestly, I told Grant that this was unfair to you.” “But once he makes up his mind, there’s no changing it.” She sighed, playing the role of the world-weary sage. “Men at a certain level always want it all. They want their unshakable foundation and their exciting distraction.” “What can we do but wait for him to figure out what he actually needs?” Her words held no malice, no fire. But they subtly pushed me into the category of ‘distraction’—the fleeting, temporary thrill. She, however, was the ‘responsibility,’ the one who was always there to catch him. She picked up a framed photo—a family portrait of her, Grant, and Zane. She wiped a speck of dust off the glass. “Even when we were divorced, he never let me throw this away.” “Some things are just in the bones, Ainsley.” I looked at the piercing sight of that family photo. Then I looked at the cold, heavy bangle on my wrist. The absurdity of it all was overwhelming. I said nothing, simply standing up to leave. Camille didn’t try to stop me. She only said, her voice light and airy behind me, “Don’t blame him, Ainsley. And don’t break yourself. Give it a few years. You’ll get used to it.” Get used to it? Get used to this disgusting triad? The wedding preparations continued, and Grant seemed to truly believe I had surrendered. He was gentle, attentive, and even a little desperate to please. “Ainsley, what about this main gown? It’s a bespoke piece flown in from Paris.” “And this ring, I had them add another carat.” He was desperately trying to fill the black hole of his lie with material goods. He thought enough money could purchase dignity. He took me to the studio to pick up our massive wedding portrait. In the photo, we were kissing by the ocean. I’d thought I was the happiest woman alive. Now, that smile felt like a grotesque mask. Grant pointed at the photo, his eyes shining with false pride. “Ainsley, look how perfect we are.” “I’ll devote my life to you. I’ll put the world at your feet.” I looked at his earnest, lying face, and the nausea returned with full force. “I need the ladies’ room.” I rushed into the back, dry-heaving over the porcelain. Nothing came up but burning bile. The ultrasound image in my wallet—the one I’d memorized—was a reminder that my pregnancy was nearly three months along. When I came out, I saw Grant with his back to me, speaking quietly on the phone. My hearing was always sharp. “…Stop, Camille, I can’t talk right now.” “Zane has a fever again? Did you give him the medication?” “Fine, fine, I’m coming over. Don’t cry. I’ll pick up the cupcakes from that bakery he loves.” It was Camille. Even at this critical moment—as we stood in front of our wedding portrait—she could use her child as a lever to pull him away. He hung up and turned, his eyes flicking with panic when he saw me. He quickly masked it, rushing over with an apologetic expression. “Urgent company crisis, Ainsley. A major client just landed unexpectedly. I have to go smooth things over.” I didn’t call him out. I simply looked at him. “Grant, do you remember what day it is?” He paused, clearly blank, a slight panic in his eyes. I prompted him gently. “It’s my birthday.” His face crumpled with instant guilt. He scrambled to salvage the moment. “Oh, Ainsley, I am so sorry. I’ve been completely swamped with work.” “What do you want? We’ll go buy it right now.” He reached for my hand again. I stepped back, shaking my head. “It’s fine. You have an urgent crisis, don’t you? Go.” He thought I was being the understanding Ainsley he’d come to rely on. He breathed a sigh of relief, leaned in, and kissed my forehead, his voice falsely bright. “I’ll make it up to you tonight. Be a good girl, wait for me.” Then he snatched his keys and hurried out the door. His retreating back held not a single shred of hesitation. The studio was empty, save for me and the giant wedding portrait, which stood mockingly in the center. I walked over to the corner, where the workers had left a small sledgehammer. I picked it up, testing the weight. It was heavy. Just like the stone that had been pressing down on my heart for the last five years. I looked at the woman in the photo—the one who believed he loved her—and whispered, “Happy Birthday, Ainsley Hayes.” The next second. I lifted the hammer and brought it down with every ounce of strength I had. The sound of shattering glass was a high-pitched scream in the empty room. Shards flew everywhere, cutting my legs, but I felt nothing. Grant’s face in the photo was a jagged mess. My own smiling face was splintered into a thousand pieces. I wrenched the heirloom bangle off my wrist. I dropped it into the pile of broken glass. Then, I took the crumpled ultrasound from my bag—the one with creases from where my fingers had worried it for weeks—and calmly placed it, face-down, on top of the bracelet. Finally, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Faye, I need you to schedule the earliest D&C appointment for me tomorrow morning.” “As soon as possible.”

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I was getting hot water for my grandfather at the hospital when a middle-aged man shoved a bedpan in front of me. “Here,” he ordered. “Go empty this, then get some warm water so I can wash my mother.” I didn’t take it. The man grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “What, are you deaf? Is this the kind of attitude you caregivers have?” he snarled. “I’ll have you know, I can file a complaint! Get your supervisor over here! Now move it, or you can forget about getting paid today!” I finally snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I shouted. “Did you hire me? Are you paying me to be a caregiver?” … My grandpa had a sudden stroke and was hospitalized. Since I was on my winter break from college, I’d been by his side taking care of him. “Hey! You! The caregiver! Come feed my mother!” The man in the next bed over suddenly started ordering me around. Before I could explain, he was already shouting into his phone, complaining loudly about some problem at work. I looked at the old woman in the bed. She looked so frail, so pitiful. Seeing that I had a moment, I decided to help. “Hey! Not so fast! Give her smaller bites! What if she chokes?” “Can’t you see she doesn’t want any more? Wipe her mouth, for God’s sake!” “You lazy caregivers have no sense of hygiene, do you? Are you going to wash that towel or what?” The man kept barking orders, then gave me a hard shove. The force of it nearly sent me tumbling off the stool. A hot flame of anger shot through me. “If you’re so damn picky, why don’t you do it yourself? All you do is stand there and flap your gums! I am not a caregiver!” I threw the towel right in his face. I didn’t want to cause a scene in front of my grandpa; it wouldn’t be good for his condition. I grabbed the thermos, needing to step out and cool off. But the man lunged in front of me, trying to force the foul-smelling bedpan into my hands. “Go on. Empty this, then bring back a basin of warm water to wash my mother.” I instinctively recoiled, and the bedpan nearly clattered to the floor. “Are you disabled or just an idiot? You can’t even take care of your own mother?” “How dare you talk to me like that, you worthless caregiver?” he interrupted, his voice dripping with impatience. “If my mother wasn’t sick in this hospital, I’d beat the hell out of you right now! Now hurry up, my mom’s waiting! You keep wasting my time, and I’ll report you and get your pay docked!” I almost had to laugh at his sheer, brutish arrogance. “If you don’t get out of my way, I’m calling security and reporting you for harassment.” I tried to sidle past him. The man let out a derisive snort as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, I get it now,” he sneered, his eyes crawling over me. “I was wondering why a pretty young thing like you would be taking care of some old geezer. It’s for the dirty money, isn’t it?” With that, he grabbed me again, shoving the bedpan hard against my chest. “I’ll say this one last time. Empty it! Or I’ll make sure everyone in this hospital knows you’re a gold-digging whore.” This was a brand-new, limited-edition jacket! Disgusted, I knocked the bedpan away. But I used too much force, and the contents sloshed all over me. The acrid stench hit me like a physical blow, and I nearly gagged. “Are you insane? I told you, I’m not a caregiver! You’re paying for this jacket!” “You dare yell at me?” the man’s voice boomed. “I pay good money for you caregivers to take care of patients! Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that? How many old men have you scammed, huh? I’m going to find their kids and let them deal with you!” He was so close I could feel his spittle on my face, his fat finger nearly poking my nose. I felt like I was going to throw up last night’s dinner. Just as I was about to call for a doctor, he beat me to it, playing the victim. He seized my wrist, dragging me out into the hallway and bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Everyone, come and see! This is the new breed of caregiver! They prey on the elderly, trying to sleep their way into an inheritance!” Doors opened. A few patients and their families poked their heads out, their faces curious. The man’s voice grew even louder, his grip on my wrist like a vice. The Head Nurse hurried over. “What’s going on? Who’s shouting?” The man immediately pointed a triumphant finger at me. “Head Nurse, this caregiver of yours is completely out of line! I asked her to do a simple task, and not only did she refuse, she threatened to call the police on me!” The Head Nurse glanced at me, and within seconds, her brow furrowed. She shot me a look of pure disdain, as if I were some unruly teenager who’d disrespected a patient’s family. She glared at me. “Which agency are you from? Where’s your ID badge?” “I’m not a caregiver! I’m a family member!” I repeated, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I’d lost count of how many times I’d said it. “Bullshit!” the man spat. “You think saying you’re not a caregiver absolves you of all responsibility? If you weren’t a caregiver, why would you be waiting on that old man? Why would you offer to feed my mother?” He gestured wildly at me, spittle flying. Then he turned to the Head Nurse, his voice taking on a threatening tone. “If you don’t handle this today and give me a satisfactory answer, I’ll make sure this hospital’s name is dragged through the mud!” He pulled out his phone and started recording both of us. The Head Nurse panicked, immediately trying to placate him with hushed, apologetic tones. But the look she gave me was venomous. She grabbed the front of my jacket, shoving me so hard I almost fell to my knees. “You’re so young,” she hissed, her voice low and filled with contempt. “No education, so you have to work as a caregiver. And you can’t even behave yourself. I’ve seen a hundred girls just like you. I’m giving you one last chance. Apologize to him right now! If you can’t resolve this, no hospital in this city will ever hire you again!” The man gloated beside her. “You hear that? The Head Nurse has given you an order!” The onlookers were getting more agitated. “Are the standards for caregivers really this low now? Don’t they do any background checks?” “Jeez, you pay hundreds of dollars a day for a caregiver, and they have the nerve to act like this?” “She needs to be reported! Blacklisted from the entire industry!” … I was about to explode from the sheer injustice of it all. “Are you all crazy? I told you, I’m not a caregiver!” My desperate shout earned me only a moment of silence. Then, the man did something that stunned me into silence. He picked up the bedpan and smashed it over my head. The remaining foul liquid dripped down through my hair. “Still talking back, are you!” The sudden, vicious attack left me reeling. My head was ringing, my mind blank with shock and humiliation, utterly unable to formulate a response. He planted his hands on his hips and continued his tirade. “Go on, keep pretending! I’ve seen your type of caregiver before! Always trying to slack off!” “Let me tell you, if you don’t make me happy today, I’m going to stand right here and shout until everyone in this hospital knows what a disgrace you are!” The crowd was a buzz of voices, some trying to calm him down. The Head Nurse stood over me, her words a relentless pressure. But the noise around me was fading, becoming a distant, muffled roar. Just as a primal urge to hit back surged through me, a familiar figure appeared, leaning on a nurse’s arm. “Grandpa!” All the anger and humiliation vanished in an instant. I scrambled to help him. But he slapped my hand away with a look of pure disgust. “Who the hell are you?” he roared, his voice surprisingly strong. “You dare bully my granddaughter? I’ll kill you!” For a second, I just froze. The crowd erupted into a fresh wave of murmurs. Seeing my grandpa, so full of righteous fury, yet looking at me like I was a complete stranger… it hurt more than all the false accusations combined. “Grandpa, it’s me! It’s Lily!” I cried. “Right before you got sick, you promised you’d buy me candy!” I wiped my soiled hands as best I could and pulled a small, worn charm from my pocket. “Look! This is the lucky charm you got for me!” A few years ago, I’d been very sick. Grandpa had gone to the old chapel on the hill, climbing every single step on his knees to pray for this for me. But the sight of the charm only agitated him more. He snatched it from my hand, his eyes wide with anger. “You thief! You stole my granddaughter’s charm!” he yelled, pointing a trembling finger at me. “I knew you were no good! Hanging around me all day, acting so sweet! Tell me! Where did you take my granddaughter? What have you done with her?” He was so worked up that he started to sway. The medical staff quickly guided him back toward his room. “The patient’s family needs to come here immediately!” a nurse called out. I tried to follow, my heart pounding with fear, but the man grabbed me again. His face was a mask of smug satisfaction. “I told you, didn’t I?” he sneered. “A girl like you, always on the make. If you want me to keep quiet and not tell his real family about you, you’ll go back in there and take proper care of my mother.” The onlookers stared, their eyes burning with judgment and disgust. “Shameless,” their expressions screamed. My hands clenched into fists, my whole body shaking. Grandpa was old, and he’d been getting more confused lately. With the stroke, it was understandable that he might not recognize me. But his condition was serious now, and I, his family, needed to be there! I gathered all my strength and shoved the man aside. “I’ll deal with you later!” I broke into a run, desperate to get to Grandpa’s room. Suddenly, my foot caught on something, and I went flying. My knees slammed into the hard tile floor, the pain so sharp it stole my breath. The man stood over me, puffing out his chest like a victorious general. “That’ll teach you to run your mouth,” he gloated. “Thinking you can just run back and torment that old man again? Not on my watch!” To my horror, some people in the crowd actually cheered. They praised the man for his “bravery,” for “setting things right.” I felt like a monkey in a cage, humiliated and filthy, surrounded by jeering faces. That was it. I was done. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

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