Category: English

For eighteen years, my husband, Michael, never once contacted the one that got away. He learned to cook for me, his hands, once only familiar with spreadsheets, becoming adept with a chef’s knife. He attended every one of our son’s parent-teacher conferences. He meticulously planned our annual family vacations, from Tuscan villas to ski lodges in Aspen. We built a life, a seemingly happy one, for eighteen years. But on the evening of our son’s eighteenth birthday, I turned to Michael and said, “We need to get a divorce.” He was standing in the doorway of Leo’s room, the echo of birthday laughter still hanging in the air. He looked at me, completely floored. I added, my voice as calm as a frozen lake, “You promised me when Leo was born. You promised we’d get divorced when he turned eighteen.” 1 A slow, disbelieving smile spread across Michael’s face. “Olivia, that was a joke. How could you possibly take that seriously?” In that moment, the gentle, dependable man before me blurred, merging with the ambitious, bright-eyed man I’d met two decades ago. Our marriage had been a merger, a strategic alliance between two powerful New York families. Before he’d even sat down across from me at our first stilted ‘date,’ he was in love with someone else: his college sweetheart, Isabelle. Isabelle was a scholarship kid, a brilliant artist with no pedigree. Michael’s parents would never accept her. They paid for her to study abroad, effectively shipping her out of their son’s life. I gave him a choice back then. “You have two options,” I told him, our hands resting on a cold, marble tabletop. “One, you fly to her, you fight for her, and I find someone else. Or two, you marry me, and you never speak to Isabelle again.” He chose me. He chose his duty to his family. After the wedding, he was a good husband. Kind, attentive. I fell pregnant quickly, and for a while, I let myself believe that I could have it all—the business advantages of our union and a real, growing love. So when I went into labor prematurely, my first instinct was to call him. He didn’t answer. Hours later, after Leo was born, he finally called back. His voice was strained, but he was honest. “I’m so sorry, Olivia. Isabelle… she was in a car accident.” He had chosen her. In the moment of crisis, his heart had defaulted to her. He stammered on the other end of the line, unsure of what to say next. In that instant, I felt myself curl inward, like a threatened animal, pulling every last thread of my affection back from him. All the love I had been nurturing for him withered on the vine. But then I looked at our son, so small and fragile in the hospital bassinet, and a strange calm washed over me. “Michael,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Can you promise me something? That we’ll wait until Leo turns eighteen. Then, we can get a divorce.” I paused, letting the weight of my next words settle. “For these next eighteen years, I need you to play a role. In front of our son, I need you to be a good father and a good husband.” A long silence, then a choked, “Okay.” I never forbade him from contacting Isabelle again. But it seemed my proposition had shocked him back into his role. He became a model father, a devoted husband, and as far as I knew, never reached out to her. He recommitted to the promise he made me. I knew he did it out of a sense of responsibility, a duty to me and to Leo. But I also knew he never let her go. I saw it in the way he would trace the outline of a worn-out scrunchie she’d given him in college, which he kept hidden in his desk drawer. I knew it from the private investigator he paid every month to send him candid photos of her life in London—Isabelle at a gallery opening, Isabelle laughing in a park. He wasn’t a bad man. He was trying desperately not to hurt anyone. But in the quiet darkness of his own heart, his love for her grew wild and unchecked, like ivy overtaking a ruin. Now, eighteen years had passed. Michael’s parents were gone. My son was a man, ready to forge his own path. And I had finally, completely, excised my feelings for my husband. It was time to let him go find his real love. 2 I thought the hardest part would be telling our son. I never imagined the first wall of resistance would be Michael himself. “It’s okay,” I said softly, trying to soothe the panic in his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me. I let go of all that eighteen years ago.” He stared at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze, as if he were truly seeing my resolve for the first time. “And you don’t have to worry about Leo. I’ll talk to him. I’ll explain everything.” I looked him straight in the eye. “You’re free, Michael.” My voice was steady. “So, our agreement from eighteen years ago? It’s time to honor it.” He let out a long, slow breath, a sigh of resignation. “You’re right. I’ve done you a great wrong, Olivia.” His tone was heavy with a practiced sort of guilt. “Whatever you and Leo need in the future, I’ll always be there to provide it.” Then, a nervous energy seized him. His hand, almost trembling, reached for his phone. He scrolled through his contacts and dialed a number that had been buried for nearly two decades. That night, for the first time in our marriage, we slept in separate rooms. For eighteen years, despite the emotional chasm between us, we had maintained a physical relationship. We met each other’s needs. It always left me with a faint, bitter taste of guilt, as if I were borrowing another woman’s man. But Michael never seemed to mind. As the years went on, he almost seemed to enjoy it. I pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter anymore. Tonight, that connection was severed for good. The next morning, I found Leo in the kitchen, fresh off a video call with his admissions advisor at Harvard. I told him his father and I were getting a divorce. Before I could even launch into the carefully constructed, amicable story I’d prepared, he cut me off. “Mom, you don’t have to spin a story for me. I know. I’ve known for a long time.” He looked at me, his eyes full of a wisdom that broke my heart. “I know you don’t love Dad. And I know he’s the one who wronged you.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. “I’m going to be here for you, Mom. I’ll take care of you.” A wave of sharp, dense pain washed over me. He knew. My son knew everything. I had failed. I hadn’t played my part well enough, and he had been forced to quietly carry the weight of our fractured truth for years. Still, his knowledge simplified things. Michael and I filed the initial divorce petition online. The plan was set: we would fly to Cambridge to move Leo into his dorm, which would also give Michael a chance to see Isabelle, who lived just outside of Boston. He could decide if he wanted to bring her back to New York or stay with her there. After the mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period, we would sign the final papers. The moment our plane landed at Logan, Michael was gone, a man on a mission. To my surprise, Leo insisted on going with him. “Mom, I just want to see her. I want to see what this woman who’s lived in Dad’s head for my entire life actually looks like.” A warning bell sounded in my mind. I could hear the resentment simmering beneath his words. “Leo, don’t be impulsive. Whatever happened back then, your father has paid his dues to us for the last eighteen years.” He didn’t listen. He left with his father. And as the city lights began to glitter outside my hotel window, Leo still hadn’t come back. 3 When I finally called, the background was a cacophony of music and laughter. It sounded like a party. “Mom, I’m not coming back tonight,” Leo said, his voice bright and a little distant. “Why not?” He hesitated. “I don’t want to be a wet blanket for Isabelle. She’s… she’s really great, Mom.” He rushed on, the words tumbling out. “It wasn’t her fault, you know? What happened back then. She’s been all alone here for so long. It’s been really hard for her.” He paused, then added, as if reciting something I’d told him, “Like you said, Mom, no one owes anyone anything anymore. But don’t worry. I still love you.” In just a few hours, his entire perspective had shifted. And he was right, of course. No one was to blame. But his words made the eighteen years I had fought for, the charade I had orchestrated for his sake, feel like a pathetic joke. What if I had just divorced Michael back then? Left Leo with him? Would they have been a happier family of three? The thought was a physical blow. I had poured so much of my life into that boy. I swallowed my pride and begged Michael to stay so Leo wouldn’t be the kid with a broken home, so he wouldn’t be whispered about at school. I wanted him to have the world, to be forged by the combined power of our two families. I wanted him to be a titan. After the divorce, he would be all I had left. I had already started planning for his future—the type of woman he should marry, how I would help raise my grandchildren, continuing the dynasty. I couldn’t lose him. I could detach from Michael—it took me a year to fall for him and eighteen years to fall out of love—but my son was different. He was my entire world. “Leo,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “I made your favorite brown butter chocolate chip cookies. I’ll wait up for you, no matter how late it is.” It was well past midnight when he finally returned. Seeing me awake on the sofa, he rushed over and gently guided me toward the bedroom. “The cookies were amazing, Mom. Seriously. Now get some sleep, you look exhausted.” I felt a wave of relief. It was just his compassion, his big heart. He felt sorry for Isabelle. I could accept that. It was a selfish thought, but as long as my son still loved me, that was enough. I closed my eyes, but just as I was drifting off, I heard it—a soft, muffled chuckle from the other side of the room. The sound of him looking at his phone, trying to suppress his laughter. I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to see it. I couldn’t face the fact that Isabelle had already, in a matter of hours, utterly captivated him. When Michael and I took Leo to campus to officially register for his classes, Isabelle came along. It was the first time I’d ever seen her in person. She was far more vibrant than in the photographs, radiating a kind of youthful energy that felt rare for a woman our age. She was gracious when she saw me, keeping a respectful distance and giving me space to have a final moment with my son. But Leo’s eyes kept darting over to her, his attention divided. Finally, he asked, “Isabelle, is there anything you want to say to me?” Only then did she step forward. She ran a hand through his hair, her smile warm and encouraging. “Just don’t stress too much. If you don’t feel like studying, go get a good meal. Being healthy and happy is the most important thing!” She was a proponent of ‘happiness first’ education. No wonder Leo was so taken with her. She wore a floral sundress, her sneakers smudged with dirt and stray petals. I remembered hearing that years ago, Michael had secretly arranged for a garden to be built for her small house outside the city. It suited her perfectly—that wild, untamed, romantic persona. Leo nodded, looking utterly charmed, then waved goodbye to us. As we walked away, I turned to Michael and Isabelle. “So, what’s the plan? Are you staying here, or are you both coming back to New York?” It was Michael who answered, but his eyes were on Isabelle. “We’ll stay here for these next four years, to be close to Leo. After that… we’ll see what he wants to do.” 4 Just like that. In a few short days, the three of them had planned their future, a future that neatly excluded me. But the understanding had always been that Leo would be with me. Michael drove Isabelle home first, then returned to the hotel with me. He settled into an armchair, adopting the posture of a man about to have a very serious, very reasonable conversation. “Olivia, since Leo chose a school here, I think it’s clear he’s drawn to the more liberal atmosphere on the East Coast. You can still come visit him whenever you want, of course.” I thought of the look on Leo’s face—the adoration for Isabelle, the casual dismissal of me. A profound weariness settled into my bones. Maybe my fight had been meaningless all along. I was silent for a long moment. Then I looked up at him. “Will you hate me for it? For the last eighteen years?” I asked quietly. “Do you think Leo will hate me?” A flicker of understanding crossed his face. “No. Of course not. None of this is your fault. It’s all on me.” It was his default setting: take the blame, smooth things over. So meaningless. I gave up. “Fine,” I said, my voice flat. “I respect Leo’s wishes. I hope the two of you take good care of him.” Michael managed a small, relieved smile. “You say that as if you’re never going to see him again.” “I just don’t think Boston is for me,” I said, the words feeling casual, conversational. “I prefer a quieter life.” Michael, who had spent the last few days chasing a ghost of his youth, looked at me with a complex expression. Was it nostalgia? Regret? I couldn’t tell. I turned and began packing my suitcase. “Don’t forget,” I said over my shoulder, “you need to be back in New York in about three weeks to sign the final divorce papers.” He nodded. He was still standing there as I zipped my bag. “So,” he asked, his voice hesitant. “This whole time, these eighteen years… were you just acting?” I gave him a look that bordered on a sneer. “Weren’t you?” He flinched, then quickly changed the subject. “Do you think… do you think I was any good at it? At being a husband?” He seemed deeply uncomfortable, wiping a bead of sweat from his palm with a handkerchief. He must be worried about his performance with Isabelle, practicing for his new life. I walked over and patted his shoulder, like an old friend offering a bit of hollow comfort. “Don’t worry. You’ll be great for Isabelle.” I leaned in a little closer. “Especially in bed.” I didn’t care anymore. But as I walked away, Michael just stood there, rooted to the spot, a look of profound loss on his face. After I returned to New York, Michael’s social media became surprisingly active. Photos of art exhibits, picnics in the park, scenic drives along the coast. In every single picture, Isabelle was conspicuously absent. He was probably trying to be considerate, given that we weren’t officially divorced yet. But it was just like the last eighteen years. Her presence was a ghost that haunted the edges of our lives, an invisible pressure that left me no room to breathe. There were times, fleeting moments, when I was fooled by his performance, when I thought, maybe I should just give up. Forget the pact. Pretend none of it happened. We could have another eighteen years. But then I would remember the woman I was in that hospital room, fragile and utterly alone, and I knew I couldn’t betray her. Now, I was grateful for my resolve. I was letting Michael go. And it wasn’t too late to let my son go, either. Michael would occasionally text me photos of Leo, making small talk. I replied at first, then I just stopped. I threw myself back into my work, burying myself in strategy meetings and financial reports. And just like that, as I was in the middle of a heated boardroom negotiation, the thirty-day cooling-off period ended. 5 Michael flew back to New York with Leo. When our son saw me, there was a new, desperate dependence in his eyes. But when I casually asked how long he was staying, he answered without a second’s thought. “Just for tonight. I have to fly back.” So soon? So eager to get back to Isabelle? Michael, ever the diplomat, jumped in. “His coursework is really demanding.” I looked closer at Leo. He was pale, his energy completely drained, as if he’d been hollowed out. Are Harvard classes really that grueling? I was too tired to press the issue. We all went to the mediator’s office. The lawyer slid the final divorce decree across the mahogany table. Without hesitation, I signed my name. Michael glanced at me, his own pen hovering over the paper. He was hesitating. I looked at my watch. “Can we speed this up? I have a two o’clock meeting.” Leo chimed in, his voice insistent. “Dad, just sign it. Isabelle’s waiting for us to have dinner with her tonight.” Hearing his words, I felt nothing. A complete and total calm. As if stung, Michael snatched the pen and scribbled his signature, then threw it down on the table with a clatter. “There. Are you happy now?” His voice, usually so smooth and controlled, had a low, guttural edge I’d never heard before. The question itself was childish. I raised an eyebrow. “Michael, I haven’t forced you to do a single thing.” He rubbed his nose, looking embarrassed. He turned to our son. “Leo, let’s go.” But Leo didn’t respond. I turned and saw my son’s face was ashen. His body was trembling, seized by violent convulsions. Then, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the floor. “Leo!” Michael and I cried out in unison. The lawyer, a former paramedic, rushed around the table and knelt beside him. He took one look at Leo’s dilated pupils and clammy skin. “Oh, God,” he said, his voice grim. “This isn’t a seizure. He’s in withdrawal.” Michael’s face was a mask of disbelief. “Withdrawal? From what? How could he get his hands on… wait. The brownies he ate yesterday… Isabelle gave them to him…” Michael’s voice trailed off into horrified silence.

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My online boyfriend loves ordering me food. But I live out in the boonies. Afraid he’d look down on me, I always gave him my friend’s address in town. Every time I was busy with farm work, I told him I was “at the office.” I tried so hard to maintain my persona. But one time, while we were gaming, my rooster crowed right outside the window. Crap! I logged off immediately. “My grandma’s calling me to shuck corn, gotta go.” Later, standing in a cornfield in the pouring rain. The man looked at me with a smile. “Caught you, you little liar.” 1 The July sun was brutal enough to render fat. I spent the whole afternoon shucking corn in the field. Just as I was catching my breath, the phone in my pocket buzzed. It was a message from Caleb: Haven’t gotten off work yet? I wiped the dirt off my hands. Replied: Just got off. Checking the time after sending, it was 3 PM. Damn. Who gets off work at 3 PM? I quickly added: Can you believe it? Leaving early is actually kinda nice haha. He paused for a moment. Sent a confused panda sticker. Rough day. Ordered you some boba, be there in thirty. Shit! I ripped the straw hat off my head and jammed it onto my grandma’s head. Then I sprinted for the house. Grandma shouted after me. “Where you goin’? Where you goin’? You ain’t done yet and you’re runnin’ off?” I looked at the field, still half full of corn. Can’t finish. Simply can’t finish. “Grandma, hold the fort! I gotta run to town, be right back!” Back home, I splashed water on my face. Grabbed the keys, jumped on my e-scooter, and gunned it. Before zooming off, I managed to reply to Caleb. Thanks babe~~ Love you~ Although the sun was scorching, the wind felt sweet on my way to pick up the delivery. 2 Caleb is my online boyfriend. We met three months ago playing PUBG Mobile. Teamed up with randoms. A couple, single dog him, single dog me. Map was Karakin. Hot drop. I landed and didn’t find jack. Enemies everywhere. The couple’s voices filled the headset. “So many people.” “I only have a shotgun, what do I do?” “Babe, don’t move, I’m coming to you.” Seconds later, ear-piercing screams came through the mic. “Ahhhhh!” My hand shook, almost dropping the phone. The girl died. Thirsted immediately. She complained: “This map sucks, babe let’s go back to Erangel.” The guy said okay. And fragged himself. Two absolute legends. I carefully prepared to camp my way to the final circle. Unexpectedly, Number 4 was a pro. The kill feed was full of his name. I couldn’t help but shout, “Nice one!” The next second, I heard Number 4 turn on his mic. His voice was crisp and clean, like a cold soda fresh out of the fridge. Cool, wrapped in a smile. “Thanks.” In that moment, my face felt a little hot. I’m a sucker for voices. Number 4’s voice was literally my type. After the game, I shamelessly added him. “Wanna play together?” He accepted quickly. 3 After adding him, I camped online every day waiting for him. His IGN was Moon. Avatar was a crescent moon, cold and mysterious. Heaven rewards the faithful. On the third day, I finally caught him online. I messaged immediately. “Play?” He replied: “Sure.” That night we duo-queued until dawn. His gameplay was smooth as silk; I just followed him around looting boxes. Originally, I was pretty decent too. The type randoms often praised. After teaming with him, I became the one shouting praises. Caleb didn’t talk much. But Level 3 helmets, Level 3 vests, whatever. He’d drop them for me. I was giddy inside. “Why give them all to me~” He paused, hesitating. “So you die slower.” …… Damn! Later, we added each other on WeChat. Topics slowly shifted from the game to our lives. My friend said: “Lily, you’re done! You’re falling for an online relationship!” I gripped my phone. Thinking. So what if it’s online? It’s Caleb. The first voice call was on a rainy night. I was bringing in clothes under the eaves when a call request popped up. The name “Caleb” danced on the screen. I was so nervous my hands shook. “Hello?” “Busy?” His voice was clearer than in the game, with a slight static buzz. I quickly put down the clothes: “Not busy.” He paused, then suddenly said. “It’s raining.” I looked up at the drizzle outside the eaves. “Raining there too?” “Yeah.” There was a smile in his voice. “Just… suddenly wanted to hear your voice.” In that moment, I felt something explode in my chest. The sound of rain, heartbeats, and his breathing intertwined. “Do you… usually flirt with girls like this?” A low laugh came from the other end. “No, this is the first time.” The rain got heavier. Hiding under the eaves. I felt my whole body burning up. 4 When I got to my friend’s house. She was already waiting at the door with the door open. Holding my boba. I laughed guiltily. “Hehe, sorry to trouble you again.” Caleb is great in every way, except he loves ordering me food. In his words. It’s “feeding.” The first time he ordered for me was because I casually mentioned I was hungry while gaming at night. “What do you want?” he asked. I instinctively said. “McDonald’s.” “Okay, give me your address.” ? I was dumbfounded. “Huh?” Caleb: “Didn’t you want McDonald’s? I’ll order it for you.” I looked at the big courtyard outside. How do I fill this address? Some Town, Some Village, Some Household, Big Courtyard? I declined. “No need~ I can order it myself.” He insisted. “I’m ordering.” Finally unable to dissuade him. I gave my friend’s address in town. Late at night. I called my friend with a bitter face. “I ordered food to your address, babe, please grab it for me.” Then rode my little e-scooter. Heading to town. When I got to her place, she raised an eyebrow. “Ordering McDonald’s late at night to my address? Tsk, something’s fishy.” Couldn’t hide it. So I told her everything. After listening, she bit into a chicken wing. “So what about the future? What’s your plan? You can’t come to town every time you need to pick up food, right?” I swore with my fingers up. “Don’t worry! This is definitely the last time.” Didn’t expect Caleb to get addicted to ordering food. Feeding me constantly. Cake, boba, pizza. Every time, I had to ride my e-scooter for an hour in tears to pick it up. My friend commented. “Gotta say, your boyfriend is actually pretty nice.” I smiled bitterly. 5 My friend sighed and handed me the boba. “How long do you plan to keep this up?” I lowered my head, mumbling: “We’ll see.” She didn’t get it. “Living in the country isn’t shameful.” I looked down at the condensation on the cup. “You don’t understand.” My friend shook her head. “I don’t understand, but I know.” “Lying to him like this will only make it uglier later.” Phone buzzed again, message from Caleb. Is it good? I quickly snapped a photo of the boba and sent it. Super good! The new shop downstairs is awesome~ My friend shook her head beside me: “Sinful.” Riding home, I thought about her words. True, lying isn’t a solution. But every time I wanted to tell the truth, I’d think of Caleb’s Instagram. Him in a white shirt standing before floor-to-ceiling windows. Behind him, the bustling night view of City A. And myself in the scooter mirror. Sun-reddened cheeks, pants stained with mud. The gap was too big. Back home. Grandma was sitting in a chair shelling beans. “Back?” I nodded and handed over the boba. “Grandma, try this.” She squinted at it. “What’s this? Black stuff.” “Boba tea, city folks love it.” She took a sip, brows furrowing tighter. “Too sweet, burns the throat. What’s good about this?” I smiled without speaking, taking out my phone to message Caleb. Finished the boba, so satisfied! Caleb replied quickly: That’s good. Game later? Okk

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“It’s for your own good,” Mom said. “Tough love.” After submitting my college applications, I was happily using the credit card linked to my mom’s account to buy dorm supplies. But then she stormed into my room. “You could have gotten into Harvard or Stanford! Why didn’t you apply?” I explained that my scores were barely on the cutoff line, and it was better to go to a top-tier state university for the major I actually loved. Mom sneered. “You have zero ambition. Just like your deadbeat father.” “Since you have so many ideas of your own, then don’t use my money.” She announced that the $5,000 limit on the linked card was all I would get for my entire college career. Subtracting what I’d just spent on essentials, I had exactly $4,000 left for four years. 1 My phone buzzed. A notification from the banking app popped up. Current Balance: $4,000.00. I had just placed an order for the recommended dorm bedding set and some other necessities, spending exactly a thousand dollars. Mom pushed the door open, her face devoid of warmth. She glanced at my phone screen, the corner of her mouth curling into a sarcastic smirk. “Lily, did you buy everything you need for move-in day?” I nodded, feeling a little uneasy. “Pretty much, Mom.” “Good.” She pulled out my desk chair and sat opposite me. “From today until you graduate college, this remaining four thousand dollars is all you get.” “I’ve already paid your tuition. Consider that the fulfillment of eighteen years of raising you.” “Living expenses, housing, utilities, and any dating you might do in the future—it all comes out of this.” My brain buzzed as if I’d been hit by a sledgehammer. “Mom, how can four thousand dollars last four years? That’s only a thousand a year…” “That’s your problem.” She cut me off, her voice ice cold. “You chose this path. You gave up Harvard, gave up the best future.” “I told you long ago, with your scores, if you just pushed a little harder, the doors to the Ivy League would open for you.” I clenched my fists. “But the program I like at UCLA is ranked number one in the country. I hate that major at Harvard, and my scores were borderline anyway. I’d be at the bottom of the class, stressed out of my mind.” “Excuses.” She scoffed. “Incompetence is just incompetence. Don’t find so many high-sounding reasons for yourself.” “You’re just mud that can’t stick to the wall, exactly like your useless father.” Outside the door, I heard my dad cough weakly. He probably heard everything but didn’t dare come in. My chest tightened. 2 Mom stood up, looking down at me. “I’ve said my piece. If you want to prove your choice was right, then use this four thousand dollars and make something of yourself.” “Don’t come crawling back to me when you’re starving.” With that, she turned and left. The door clicked shut with a dull thud, cutting off the last shred of warmth between us. I opened the chat with Mom. The last message was from yesterday. Me: Mom, I bought my plane ticket to LA! Arriving morning of Sept 1st! Mom: Got it. Be safe out there alone. In just twenty-four hours, my world had turned upside down. I slumped in my chair, looking out the window. The sky was darkening, and the city lights flickered on one by one, but none of them could light up the darkness inside me. Dad walked in with a bowl of soup, placing it carefully on my desk. “Lily, your mom just has that temper. Don’t take it to heart.” I looked at him, eyes rimmed with red. “Dad, four thousand dollars, four years. How am I supposed to live?” He sighed, avoiding my gaze. “Your mom is just angry right now. She’ll cool down.” “Just go along with her for now. When she gives you money later, just take it.” “Dad, it’s not about going along with her, it’s…” He waved his hand, interrupting me. “Alright, drink the soup before it gets cold.” He hurried out of my room. I knew that in this house, Mom was the absolute dictator. Dad never dared to go against her. Counting on him was useless. 3 On move-in day, my friend Chloe’s parents drove us to the airport. We lived in the same neighborhood. Mom used “work” as an excuse to make me hitch a ride with them. Chloe’s mom enthusiastically helped me lift my suitcase into the trunk, chattering away. “Lily is amazing, getting into such a top school. Bright future ahead.” Chloe’s dad nodded with a smile. “Yeah, unlike our Chloe who’s just going to a regular state college.” I forced a smile uglier than a cry. Chloe noticed something was wrong and nudged my arm in the back seat. I shook my head and turned to look out the window. As the car drove out of the neighborhood, I saw my mom’s car parked by the curb not far away. She hadn’t left. She just watched coldly as I drove away. I dragged my massive suitcase alone and squeezed onto the shuttle bus at LAX. The bus was crowded and smelled of stale coffee and sweat. I leaned against the window, watching the palm trees flash by. UCLA was beautiful, bathed in California sunshine. But I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it. Check-in, getting my ID, moving luggage to the dorm… by the time I was done, it was evening. It was a triple room. My two roommates had already arrived. Their parents were busy making beds, hanging fairy lights, and fussing over them. The mom of one girl, Sarah, grabbed my hand warmly. “Sweetie, where are your parents? How come you’re doing this all alone?” I forced a smile. “They’re busy. I’m used to being independent.” Sarah’s mom looked heartbroken. She pulled an apple from her bag and stuffed it into my hand. “We’re all family here. If you need anything, just ask Sarah. Don’t be shy.” Holding the cold apple, I felt a warmth spread in my chest. That night, my roommates suggested going out for a nice dinner to celebrate the start of college. I looked at the glaring “$4,000” on my phone screen and hesitated. “I… I’m a little tired. I want to rest early. You guys go.” Sarah saw my embarrassment and smiled. “Hey, don’t be like that! My treat tonight! Consider it a welcome gift!” It was hard to refuse, so I followed them to a popular restaurant near campus. The meal came out to about $50 per person. Watching Sarah swipe her card without blinking, I had mixed feelings. That one meal was almost half my monthly budget if I strictly rationed. 4 Orientation week was long and exhausting. Under the hot sun, we toured the campus and sat through endless lectures. Sweating through my T-shirt. After dismissal, roommates would rush to the campus store for iced lattes and snacks. I could only walk silently to the water fountain and fill my bottle with lukewarm tap water. At the end of the week, there was a freshman mixer. The RA posted in the group chat, telling everyone to dress up and have fun. Roommates rummaged through suitcases, discussing makeup looks. I opened my suitcase. Aside from a few T-shirts and jeans, there was nothing. All the pretty dresses I used to love were locked in the wardrobe at home. Before I left, Mom had said coldly, “Going to study that useless major, who are you dressing up for? Having clothes on your back is enough.” At the mixer, wearing a faded T-shirt, I sat in the corner like an outsider. Sarah, in a beautiful floral dress, sang a song on stage and won a round of applause. After getting off stage, she ran to me and handed me a soda. “Lily, why aren’t you mingling? It’s boring sitting here alone.” I shook my head. “I can’t sing or dance.” She pulled my hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.” Dragged by her, I met a few upperclassmen from my department. They were impressive and articulate. A senior asked me, “Lily, what was your SAT score? To get into this competitive program, you must be smart.” Before I could speak, Mom called. I walked to a quiet corner to answer. “Hello, Mom.” “What are you doing?” Her voice was devoid of emotion. “At… at the school mixer.” “Oh? Having fun, I see. Is the money enough?” Hope sparked in my heart. “Mom, I…” “Just asking.” She chuckled lightly. “Don’t expect me to send you another cent. You chose this path. Even if you have to crawl, you finish it.” She hung up. The noise of the party seemed to come from far away. I just felt cold all over. 5 My first month of college was like a monk’s penance. I ate the cheapest meal plan options, never bought snacks or fruit. To save money, I frantically searched online for part-time jobs. Flyering, waitressing, tutoring… But most jobs required large blocks of time, and my class schedule was packed. I could only find temporary gigs with low hourly pay. The first weekend, I went downtown to hand out flyers for a gym. Standing all day, throat dry, legs like lead. In the end, I got paid $60 cash. On the bus back to campus, I almost fell asleep from exhaustion. Watching the streetlights blur past, I doubted my choice for the first time. If I had listened to Mom and gone to the school she wanted, would I not be suffering like this? Back in the dorm, Sarah and the others were discussing plans for Fall Break. “Let’s go to Santa Barbara! I heard the beaches are amazing!” “Yes! I’ve been wanting to go!” They chattered away, no one noticing the fatigue on my face. I climbed silently into my bunk, drew the curtain, and shut out the world. To save money, I ate two meals a day. A bagel for breakfast, lunch at the cafeteria where I worked part-time. Dinner was skipped. I lost weight visibly. My clothes started hanging off me. Sarah couldn’t stand it. She started bringing me food under various pretenses. “Lily, if you keep this up, you’ll ascend to heaven before graduation.” She stuffed a warm burrito into my hand. Holding the hot food, my eyes stung. “Sarah, thank you.” “Don’t mention it.” She sighed. “Your mom is too much. Doesn’t she know you’re suffering here?” She knew. Of course she knew. She enjoyed the feeling of controlling me, of punishing me.

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It took ten years for Margot to finally say yes to my proposal. It took three hours and two extra martinis at our engagement party for her to destroy it. She was usually the picture of icy composure—the kind of CEO who never let a hair fall out of place. But tonight, the alcohol stripped that veneer away. She screamed that I was embarrassing her, that I didn’t know my place, and then, with a cruelty I’d never seen, she kicked me out of the Uber. “Get out, Leo. Just get out.” I walked for three hours. The headache from the champagne thumped behind my eyes like a second heartbeat. When I finally unlocked the door to our Tribeca penthouse—the one we were supposed to share as husband and wife—I found her on the sofa. She wasn’t alone. She was cradling him. “I regret it,” she was whispering, her voice thick with a tenderness she had never shown me. “If you tell me to stop, I will. I’ll call off the wedding right now. Just say the word, Jasper.” Watching her stroke his hair, seeing that raw, unguarded affection, I felt something inside me quietly snap. I decided then and there. I wasn’t going to wait for her to cancel the wedding. I was going to disappear. No one could have predicted that after I vanished, the woman who had always been so aloof, so perfectly detached, would lose her mind trying to find me. 1 I kicked the dress shoes off my feet. They were an engagement gift from Margot. Italian leather, beautiful, and a size too small. I’d worn them all night to please her, and now my heels were blistered and bloody. I left them there in the hallway. I’d rather walk barefoot on broken glass than put them on again. I dialed the number I hadn’t used in years. The ringback tone sounded foreign, connecting to a villa somewhere in the Napa Valley hills. “Dad? It’s me. I’m not getting married. I want to come home.” There was a heavy silence on the line, then a sigh that sounded like relief. “Okay, Leo. I’m getting old. The vineyards, the business… it’s all going to be yours eventually anyway. Come out here. It’s time.” I choked back a sob. “I heard you, Leo,” Dad said softly. “I thought Margot was different… I didn’t think you’d end up walking the same road your mother and I did.” He paused. “Don’t cry, son. You’re young. A man’s world isn’t just marriage and heirs. Build something of your own. Just know I’m waiting for you.” Before tonight, I thought Margot was different, too. She was a self-made powerhouse, dignified, fiercely private. She kept every man at arm’s length. Even after she made the Forbes list, there was never a scandal, never a rumor. Until tonight. Until Jasper walked into the party uninvited. For the first time in her life, I saw Margot shatter a glass. For the first time, she lost her temper over nothing, turning her rage on me and leaving me on a street corner. If it had been anyone else, I might have chalked it up to stress. I might have given her another decade of my life, asking for nothing in return. But the man in our living room was Jasper. Jasper, who had tormented me for twenty years. Jasper, who had taken everything from me. The one person on this earth I could never forgive. Seeing her bring him into our sanctuary was the final blow. I should have walked away then. But my hand, acting on its own masochistic impulse, opened the app for the living room security cameras on my phone. On the screen, Jasper was wearing my silk pajamas. Margot—the woman who never did chores, the woman who called my casual drinking “undisciplined”—was in the kitchen, carefully preparing a hangover cure for him. Jasper looked up at her, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re really going to marry the substitute?” Margot didn’t answer. She knelt before him and began to massage his foot. “You don’t have to say it,” Jasper laughed, cruel and easy. “I know you did all this to piss me off. The big engagement party? Just a flare gun to get my attention. You can’t get over me. Look at this place. Industrial chic, just like I like. The ring you bought him? My style. The cake had our initials, really, didn’t it? Even the shoes on his feet… those are the ones I told you I liked, aren’t they?” Jasper pressed his foot against her chest, right over her heart. “You’ve always loved me, Margot.” She said nothing. She just stared at him for a long beat, and then, she buried her face in his lap, sobbing, before pulling him into a kiss so desperate it looked like she was trying to breathe through him. I stood in the hallway, tears streaming down my face. In ten years, whenever I tried to kiss her with any passion, she would turn her cheek. I thought she was reserved. I thought she was shy. She wasn’t. She was just saving all her fire for Jasper. For a decade, she gave me her body, her time, and her loyalty. But she kept her soul in a jar, waiting for him. I took a deep breath and turned to leave. But before I could reach the elevator, the door opened. Margot stood there. She froze when she saw me, instinctively dropping Jasper’s hand. “Jasper had too much to drink,” she said, her voice rushing. “He’s… he’s practically your brother, Leo. I couldn’t leave him on the street. He’s a good man, he has boundaries. He insisted on leaving so you wouldn’t misunderstand.” Margot, usually a woman of few words, suddenly couldn’t stop talking. Every sentence was a shield for him. I looked at her and felt… nothing. Just a cold sense of unfamiliarity. I was the one who grew up with her. I was the one who stood by her while she built her empire from a garage startup to a conglomerate. How did I end up being the placeholder? “He’s not my brother,” I said, my voice flat. “He’s the bastard son of the mistress who destroyed my family.” Margot’s face hardened. “Leo! How can you be so vicious? Apologize to him. Now.” She stepped between us, pushing me back toward the curb. “No wonder your parents left you behind. No wonder people find you hard to love. You’re bitter, Leo. It’s ugly.” The moonlight hit her face, illuminating the fierce protectiveness in her eyes. It superimposed perfectly over a memory I had buried. Years ago, when we were just kids. My mother had gotten pregnant by another man—Jasper’s father—and forced my dad into a divorce so she could be with her lover. My dad left the country in a rage. I was the debris left behind. Back then, whenever the neighbors whispered or the kids bullied me, Margot would stand in front of me, just like this. “Leo is the best person in the world,” she would scream. “If no one else wants him, I will. I’ll love him forever.” I had built my entire life on that promise. I worked myself into the ground to escape my toxic family, to be worthy of the home I thought we were building. But whenever I brought up that memory, she would frown and dismiss it. “We were children, Leo. It meant nothing.” And now, with Jasper back, she didn’t even bother with the gentle dismissal. No wonder people find you hard to love. I looked away, my eyes burning. Maybe she saw the blood seeping through my socks. Maybe she realized she’d gone too far. Her expression softened, just a fraction. “Look,” she sighed. “I’ll pretend you’re just drunk tonight. Tomorrow—” “There is no tomorrow,” I said. “What?” Before she could demand an explanation, Jasper let out a theatrical sob and ran down the street. Margot didn’t hesitate. She didn’t look at me. She chased after him. She moved so fast that something fell out of her pocket. A silver necklace with a star pendant. I picked it up. I thought of the small tattoo of a star she had over her heart. A tribute to him. Jasper. The pieces clicked into place. The ten years of devotion were just a play I was acting in alone. I turned and went upstairs. My phone buzzed. A text from Dad. Flight booked. Two weeks from now. The day of the wedding. The countdown clock on the living room wall—14 Days Until “I Do”—was now a countdown to my escape. I laughed, a dry, hollow sound. I grabbed a trash bag and started clearing the apartment. Every decoration, every photo, every “couple’s item.” Fate has a twisted sense of humor. I had two weeks. Two weeks to say goodbye to the life I thought was mine. The next morning, I was woken up by Margot’s ringtone. “Leo? You up? I sent over those soup dumplings you like. I’m not coming home today—crisis at the office. We’ll have to reschedule the engagement shoot.” She paused, then added, “And don’t worry about last night. I apologized to Jasper for you.” “Okay,” I said. She was surprised by my lack of fight. “You know… the wedding is just a formality. We know how we feel. We don’t need a circus to prove it. Let’s keep things simple.” “Okay. Simple.” Simple meant no marriage license. No photos. No officiant. And, ultimately, no groom. I hung up and walked to the wall calendar. I took a thick black marker and crossed out Wedding Photos. Margot was always too busy for me. So, I had filled the calendar with things I wanted us to do during the “wedding month.” A bucket list of small happinesses. Now, I watched them disappear under the black ink. I handed in my resignation. I went out for drinks with my few close friends. I told them the wedding was off. “We kind of guessed,” one of them said gently, turning her phone toward me. Margot’s Instagram. She never posted me. Not once in ten years. But her stories were full of him. Jasper’s silhouette at the beach. Jasper at a theme park. Jasper trying on suits. She was showing him off to the world while keeping me in the dark. “Leo, you don’t deserve this,” my friend said. “She’s going to regret this. That guy is trash.” “It doesn’t matter,” I said, looking out the window at the New York skyline. “I’m already gone.” When Margot finally came home days later, thumbing rapidly through emails, she barely looked up. “Place looks empty. Did you send the decorations back?” “You said keep it simple.” She blinked, then looked at the countdown. “Seven days. God, it flies.” I ripped two pages off the calendar. “Five days, actually.” The pages I ripped off said Ferris Wheel at Sunset and Private Dinner. She didn’t notice. “Don’t plan a honeymoon,” she said, distracted. “I can’t leave the city.” “I know.” She wouldn’t leave Jasper. I pulled the star necklace out of my pocket and handed it to her. Her eyes lit up in a way they never did for me. “You found it! I’ve been looking everywhere.” “I saw the reward post you put up.” She had offered ten thousand dollars for a cheap silver necklace. Our entire wedding budget was less than fifty. “Where’s your engagement ring?” I asked. She looked at her bare hand, feigning surprise. “Oh. I must have left it at the gym…” Her phone dinged. A specific, custom tone. Jasper. She kissed my forehead, already moving toward the door. “Sorry, hubby. Work emergency. Handle the wedding stuff for me? Once this deal closes, I promise, I’ll make you the happiest man alive.” She was suddenly full of sweet nothings. Before, I would have melted. Now, I just went to the bathroom and scrubbed the spot where her lips had touched my skin. The day before the wedding. Calendar item: Family Reunion Dinner. My biggest wish. And the most impossible one. My dad wouldn’t forgive my mother. I wouldn’t forgive Margot. I went to the Top of the Rock alone to watch the sunset. The city turned gold and violet, and I felt the memories detaching from me, drifting away on the wind. Check phone. Jasper had posted a new photo. A dinner table. My mother, smiling. Margot, putting food on Jasper’s plate. Caption: Parents meeting. Finalizing the wedding details. I didn’t feel angry. I just found it funny. Whose wedding? I blocked Jasper. I typed a message to Margot, deleted it, and typed it again. I never sent it. Just as I was leaving, Margot called. “Where are you? Send me your location. I miss you.” She picked me up twenty minutes later. There was a basketball-shaped pillow in the passenger seat. And an open box of condoms in the center console. I sat in the back. “Why the sudden urge for sightseeing?” she asked, checking her mirrors. “I know I promised to take you here. We’ll do it properly when I have time. Oh, by the way—my mom wants to see you.” We arrived at the old family estate. The dinner was over; only scraps remained. Margot’s mother grabbed my hand. “Leo, honey. You know I like you. You’re not rich, but you’re safe. Domestic.” She shot a glance at Jasper, who was lounging on the sofa. “Margot could do better, status-wise, but I told her—status isn’t everything. Not every man is willing to be a house-husband. You should quit your job after the wedding. Focus on taking care of her.” I nodded, zoning out. Margot walked over with a garment bag. “You were busy, so I had Jasper pick up the suits. He has better taste anyway.” She pulled out a suit. It was used. Frayed at the cuffs. It smelled like mothballs. Jasper, meanwhile, was wearing a pristine, white bespoke tuxedo. “The shop must have mixed them up,” Margot said, flustered. “It’s late… just wear it for the rehearsal photos. I’ll fix it tomorrow.” “It’s fine,” I said. We lined up for a photo. Jasper shoved me to the edge, planting himself right next to Margot. When the shutter clicked, he “accidentally” elbowed me. The result: A beautiful portrait of Margot and Jasper, with a blurry, half-out-of-frame ghost that was me. “We should retake that,” Margot said. “Maybe another time,” I said. “I’m tired.” Jasper’s eyes welled up with fake tears. “I’m so sorry, Leo. I didn’t mean to ruin it. I’ll drive all over the city tonight to find you a better suit. I promise.” He ran out of the room, weeping. Margot glared at me. “Look what you did.” She ran after him. I picked up the shabby suit and took an Uber home. It was 2:00 AM. I was packing the last of my things when I found an old leather notebook in a drawer. Margot’s diary. It detailed the year she was broke, living in a hostel, where she met Jasper. The crucial pages were ripped out, leaving only one line: The happiest days of my life. I flipped to the entry from the day she proposed to me. I was young and stupid. I mistook mud for gold and let the star go. No matter how hard I try, I can’t turn Leo into Jasper. But the past is dead. For Jasper’s sake, I will be kind to Leo. Her handwriting was elegant, sharp. I can’t turn Leo into Jasper. I looked around the room. The watches, the car, the clothes I wore, the cologne she bought me—it was all Jasper’s taste. I looked in the mirror. The haircut she insisted on. The gray hoodie. I was a walking, breathing cosplay of the man she actually wanted. She saw Jasper destroy me for years, and she sided with him. She knew he was my nightmare, and she turned me into his reflection. Rage, cold and clarifying, washed over me. I smashed the mirror. I grabbed a pair of scissors and shaved my head, destroying the “Jasper cut.” I ripped the final page off the calendar. The Wish: Marry the love of my life. I crumbled the paper and dropped it in the trash. I took nothing but my passport and my phone. I walked out the door, hailed a cab, and told the driver: “JFK. International Terminal.” At noon, just as I buckled my seatbelt in First Class, Margot called.

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I sold my shares in the startup I’d built from the ground up, ready to get married. But the two partners who had sworn they’d never marry anyone but me? They didn’t know. They were too busy throwing a celebration for the new assistant. I was the one who landed that deal, drinking with the client until my stomach bled. But while I was passed out, the new assistant, Sophie, left me alone in the hotel room. She took the signed contract back to the office and claimed all the credit. And just like that, my partners believed her. The next day, pictures of me “asleep in bed” circulated through the company group chat. Everyone was whispering that I’d slept my way to the top. Lying in a hospital bed, I called them, desperate to explain. But they cut me off. “Don’t bother coming up with some pathetic lie about stomach issues. You’re the woman who drinks eight cups of coffee a day. Stop playing the victim.” “Sophie’s a hero. We’re celebrating her right now. Don’t ruin the mood.” … The day I returned to the office, I sold my shares to their biggest competitor. Then I made a call home. “I’ll marry him. You can tell the Vance family to start planning the wedding.” 1 Gary and Scott were just walking into my office when they heard me. Their brows shot up. “Wedding? What wedding?” It was only ten days away. There was no point in hiding it. “My wedding. I’ll send you both an invitation.” They didn’t believe me. Just then, my mother sent over a dozen different wedding dress designs, my phone buzzing incessantly. They leaned over my shoulder, their eyes widening as they saw the sketches. Gary’s face soured. “Mina, what’s this? Are you playing dress-up?” Scott interrogated me like I was on trial. “You’re a workaholic. You don’t even have a boyfriend. Who are you marrying?” The irony was crushing. These were the two men who had vowed to spend their lives with me. Now they just looked ridiculous. Sophie, holding a stack of papers for them to sign, overheard our conversation. Her face was a mask of disbelief. “Ms. Thorne, you’re not marrying Mr. Davis, are you? I heard he’s already married. That would be… really inappropriate.” Thanks to her, the entire company now thought I was having an affair with our biggest client. My eyes went cold as I looked at her. “Not knocking before you enter my office is just bad manners. But stealing my credit and spreading vile rumors about me? Is that just ignorance of the law?” My sharp tone made Sophie’s eyes well up with tears. She wrung her hands, apologizing profusely. “Ms. Thorne, I didn’t… I never thought people would misunderstand like that. But you and Mr. Davis, in that hotel room…” She trailed off, blushing as if she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. But it was enough. Gary and Scott’s faces darkened. The way they looked at me was dripping with contempt. “That’s enough!” Gary snapped. “If you didn’t want people to know, you shouldn’t have done it. Don’t take out your own humiliation on Sophie.” “She’s just looking out for you,” Scott added. “Mr. Davis is old enough to be your father. Are you really that determined to be a homewrecker?” I laughed, a bitter, angry sound. Without another word, I kicked all three of them out of my office. Years of friendship, five years of building a dream together, and they didn’t trust me. They trusted a girl who’d been at the company for less than two months. I refused to let them get to me. I went back to looking at the dress designs. Not two minutes later, Gary made an announcement in the group chat. I was to switch offices with Sophie. The reason? As his assistant, Sophie’s office needed to be closer to his and Scott’s to “increase efficiency.” In a chat with hundreds of people, half of them immediately started congratulating Sophie, sucking up to the new favorite. But I still had a few loyal people on my side. Someone immediately questioned the decision. Sophie was a fresh graduate, two months into her first job. Giving her the general manager’s office felt… wrong. I was about to privately message them to back off when Sophie sent a voice note to the group, her voice thick with tears. “Gary, it’s all my fault. I was so focused on the contract that night that I didn’t take care of Mina. I don’t deserve her office. I’m too ashamed to even face her. I’m officially resigning!” Her sobbing voice was so fake it made my stomach turn. Scott kicked open my glass door, his eyes blazing. “Look what you’ve done! Pack your things and clear out for Sophie. I don’t want you bullying a young girl who’s just starting her career.” Gary, right behind him, urged me to hurry up, all while typing a comforting message to Sophie in the group chat. Then someone shouted that Sophie had gone up to the roof. The color drained from both of their faces. They sprinted out of my office and towards the emergency stairs. As I watched their frantic figures disappear, I pulled out my phone and contacted the person who had expressed interest in buying my shares. 2 Gary and Scott’s arch-nemesis, Kevin, had somehow heard I was selling. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I checked the email I’d sent to Gary and Scott. It had been exactly thirty days. Their lack of a reply meant they had forfeited their right of first refusal. Kevin had given me three days to consider, but I replied instantly, telling him we could sign the papers now. By the time Gary and Scott had coaxed Sophie back from the ledge, I hadn’t moved a single thing from my desk. They were losing their patience. “It’s an office swap, not a cross-country move. Why is it taking you so long?” Sophie bit her lip, her eyes red and swollen as she looked at me. “Ms. Thorne, I’m sorry, I don’t really need this office…” “It’s fine. If you like it, it’s yours. You can have the general manager title, too.” My words sent fresh tears streaming down Sophie’s face. All traces of the ruthless credit-stealer were gone. “Mina, what is with the sarcasm?” Scott snapped. “It’s just an office. Do you have to be so petty?” I’d already sold my shares. I couldn’t care less about the damn office. The disdain on my face clearly enraged Scott. He strode over and swept my few personal belongings off the desk and onto the floor outside. Gary gave me a cold glance before personally helping Sophie arrange her new space. HR was in and out, bringing potted plants and fresh flowers. You’d think they were decorating a princess’s chamber. Finally, the day ended. Gary tapped on my temporary desk. “Don’t leave when you clock out. We’re having a team dinner to celebrate Sophie’s new office.” I was a little stunned. A new office warranted a celebration? But I didn’t refuse. I figured it would be my last dinner with my old colleagues. At the restaurant, I realized that the few employees who had defended me in the group chat were gone. Gary had fired them all on trumped-up charges. I messaged each of them. They told me Gary and Scott had ordered them not to contact me, threatening to blacklist them from the industry if they did. To appease Sophie, they had no problem sacrificing loyal, veteran employees. After that public execution, no one else dared to cross them for my sake. One of them even tried to kick me while I was down. “Mina, you missed Sophie’s last celebration. You’d better toast her properly tonight. If she hadn’t closed that deal, who knows what else you would have had to… sacrifice.” His insinuation brought back the disgusting things I’d overheard in the restroom earlier that day. “Mina has some serious nerve, showing her face after hiding for so long.” “What does she need a face for? She’s the type who just spreads her legs to close a deal.” … Ignoring the stares, I poured myself a glass of soda and took a small sip. Gary’s face went cold. He snatched the glass and poured it out. Scott seamlessly filled it back up with hard liquor. “You nearly drove Sophie to suicide today. A drink to apologize isn’t too much to ask, is it?” “Besides, you owe her one from the last party you skipped.” Without a second thought, I threw the drink in Scott’s face. “Who the hell is she to deserve a toast from me?” Everyone gasped. Gary, ever the stoic one, just poured another glass and pushed it toward me. “Mina, this is for team unity. You’re drinking it, whether you like it or not.” Sophie put on a show of defending me. “Gary, it’s okay. I know Ms. Thorne looks down on me. If she doesn’t want to drink, let’s just drop it. It’s not worth fighting over.” But Scott, dripping with alcohol, wasn’t having it. 3 Furious, he grabbed me when I wasn’t looking and forced the glass to my lips, pouring the liquor down my throat. “You, who sell your body for contracts, what right do you have to look down on Sophie?” The two men who once feared a single drop of alcohol might harm me were now force-feeding it to me for Sophie’s sake. And their words were just as foul. The fiery liquid burned a path from my throat to my stomach. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. But neither of them noticed my distress. They were too busy pouring Sophie her favorite juice. Sophie downed her drink in one go, then smiled sweetly at me. “Ms. Thorne, thank you for your sacrifice. I’ll work even harder from now on.” Anyone else would think she was just talking about the office, but I saw something more in her eyes. She was determined to conquer Gary and Scott. “Well then, I wish you a speedy promotion to Mrs. Boss.” I finished, clutching my stomach as I tried to get to the restroom. Gary blocked my path. “You had two sips of alcohol. Is that an excuse to talk nonsense and then fake being sick?” The burning pain in my stomach was nothing compared to the ache in my heart. I looked up at Gary, my eyes stinging. “I just got out of the hospital for a bleeding ulcer, and you force me to drink?” His hand, holding me back, froze. “Can’t you come up with a more believable excuse? You’ve been drinking for years and never had a problem before.” Scott, the one who’d poured the drink down my throat, also accused me of lying. “I barely got a drop in you. You can drink anyone under the table. Don’t be so dramatic.” Of course it wasn’t dramatic. They weren’t the ones in pain. It used to be that when Scott saw me drinking with clients, he’d ask, “Mina, there will always be other clients. Is one deal worth all this?” Back then, he and Gary would look at me, drunk and exhausted, with tears in their eyes. They’d make me hangover soup, take turns staying up all night by my side, just to hand me a glass of warm water when I was thirsty. The next day, they’d go to the office with dark circles under their eyes and work like madmen, terrified of wasting my efforts. We survived the hardest parts of building a company from scratch. The two men who swore they’d marry only me were now using Sophie as a weapon to destroy me. “I just need to use the restroom. Is that so dramatic?” My stomach was cramping so badly I could barely speak, leaning against the wall just to stay upright. A male colleague was the first to notice something was wrong and got up to help me. But Gary pushed him away, refusing to let him touch me. “Mina, is this your trick? You get drunk, play the damsel in distress, and that’s how you land your male clients?” The colleague who tried to help me flushed with embarrassment. “Gary, I think you’re mistaken. Look at her, she really doesn’t look well.” Scott scoffed. “She knows she’s embarrassed herself. She’s just putting on a show.” I couldn’t blame him for not seeing it. For years, no matter how sick I felt after drinking, I’d always powered through it like a soldier. This was the path I chose, and I was determined to see it through. I loved the grind of a startup; I loved the validation that came with success. In their eyes, I was made of steel. Sophie, having enjoyed the drama long enough, now played the part of the concerned friend, pushing a cup of hot water into my hands. “Ms. Thorne, no matter how you landed the deal, you’re a hero to this company. We’re all grateful for your contribution.” Her words were like gasoline on a fire. Gary, who had been supporting me, snatched his hand away as if I were contaminated. “Since you don’t want to be here, you should just go home.” He then marched over to the sink and began scrubbing his hands obsessively. Under the contemptuous gazes of everyone in the room, I clutched my stomach and turned to leave. But Sophie wouldn’t let me go. As she grabbed me, the scalding water from her cup sloshed out, and I instinctively pushed her away. The hot water splashed all over both our hands. Scott rushed over, yelling for a waiter to bring an ice pack for Sophie. He didn’t see that most of the water had landed on my hand. Sophie had a red spot the size of a quarter. My entire hand was crimson. Gary came back from washing his hands, saw Sophie on the verge of tears, and his anger finally boiled over. 4 “Mina, have you no shame? Sophie was trying to help you, and you have to attack her?” In that moment, a wave of grief and betrayal washed over me. I fought back the tears, a bitter smile on my face. Seeing me smile, Gary dragged me in front of Sophie. “I don’t know how you can find the nerve to smile. Apologize to Sophie. Now.” Scott, busy applying ice to Sophie’s hand, chimed in, “She has to apologize! If a girl gets a scar from a burn, it’s a disaster!” My hand was trembling as I held it out, showing them the angry red burn. Scott didn’t even look. He just slapped it away. The impact sent a fresh wave of searing pain through my hand. Gary watched me like a hawk. “What? You won’t apologize? Are you going to hit her again?” I shouldn’t have even tried to show them I was hurt too. A colleague sitting nearby saw my burn and spoke up hesitantly. “Gary, Mina’s hand is burned too…” Gary frowned, and for a second, instinct took over. He grabbed my hand to inspect it. I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. But then Sophie let out a pained hiss, and he dropped my hand like it was hot coal. “Serves you right! If you hadn’t been causing trouble, you wouldn’t have gotten burned. You’re a menace to yourself and everyone else. Just looking at you is annoying.” “Apologize and get out.” An apology was impossible. But I wouldn’t humiliate myself any further. Seeing my defiance, Sophie pouted, feigning strength. “Gary, I’m fine. You should take Mina to the hospital. Burns really, really hurt… ah!” Her sudden cry of pain sent Gary and Scott into a panic, both scrambling to check her hand again. In the chaos, someone even called 911. I had no interest in watching the rest of their farce. I turned and walked away without a second thought. Sometime during dinner, it had started to rain. As I stood outside, wondering if I should just make a run for it, Scott came out. I thought for a moment that his conscience had kicked in. But he just threw a jacket at me. “Get your things together. Stop leaving stuff everywhere and expecting me and Gary to clean up after you.” I glanced down at my light-colored blazer, now soaked with red wine, and tossed it into the nearest trash can. Scott was furious. “Mina, what is your problem?” He and Gary had given me that custom-made suit together. They used to fight over whose gifts I wore. Eventually, they started splitting the cost of everything so there would be no question of favoritism. “It’s stained. It’s trash.” Just like them. Their hearts were stained, and it was time to throw them away. For a split second, I saw a look of loss on Scott’s face, as if he’d just lost something precious. But his attention was quickly drawn back to Sophie. I ran out into the rain, caught a cab, and went home. I took some medicine for my stomach and held an ice pack on my hand until the throbbing subsided. The next morning, I woke up to a flood of texts from unknown numbers. They were all flirtatious, some explicitly sexual. A stranger sent me a link to a website. My private information, my photo, had been posted on a porn site. The photo… if I remembered correctly, Gary and Scott had taken it for me. I called them to confront them. They denied everything, then turned it back on me. “Mina, can you please be more careful about your private life? This is really bad for the company’s image.” “You should stay away from the office for a while.” I’d already sold my shares. I had no reason to be their workhorse anymore. “Fine.” My easy agreement seemed to stun them. They had expected a fight, not this cheerful, unburdened tone. It was as if a massive weight had been lifted from my shoulders. “Mina, you…” Gary started to say something, but Sophie called his name, and he immediately hung up. They had shown me no loyalty. I would show them no mercy. Spreading revenge porn, leaking my private information… they really thought I was a pushover. I handed everything over to the police and my lawyers, then packed my bags and flew to the capital to get married.

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My snake has been acting weird lately. She’s always sneaking around, trying to steal my iPad, nearly bashing her own head in several times. Curious, I unlocked the iPad, casually left it next to her enclosure, and set up a high-def camera. The next morning, I shot up in bed— She has a “SnekBook” account! I watched my snake painstakingly tap the screen with the tip of her tail, typing: [My owner keeps saying I feel rough and prickly. How do I tell her the heating pad is shocking me?] Attached was a selfie.jpg I refreshed the page, and hundreds of comments popped up. Other snakes were roasting her: “Where did a basic Rat Snake like you get an owner? And a heating pad? You can lie to the homies, but don’t lie to yourself.” The next day, I peeked at her cautiously. She was curled up in a dark corner, sulking. So angry she went mute. 1 After my brother died in a car accident, I was left alone in the house. I often visited his and our parents’ graves. One day, on the way there, I accidentally stepped on what I thought was a thick garden hose. I looked down. It was a snake! I almost died of fright! Instinctively, I grabbed a stick nearby, terrified it would bite me. But the snake just looked at me, flattened itself, and slithered away. ? That night, I had a dream. I dreamed that snakes have their own social media called SnekBook. The snake I stepped on went home and posted about me, trying to shame me. But instead, all the other snakes roasted her. [If you didn’t bite, don’t post. You’re embarrassing us.] [Don’t push coward content to my feed.] [Certified wimp. My venom glands hurt just reading this.] They even added her to a group called “Useless Losers” for periodic check-ins. The snake fainted from anger. I woke up laughing. I used to be terrified of snakes, but now, the little thing seemed kinda cute? But when I opened my front door, there she was! The snake, looking dusty and disheveled. She had tied herself into a loop and hung herself on my door handle, like she was trying to prove she wasn’t a coward by “hanging herself on the southeast branch.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I tried to get her down carefully, but the poor thing was terrified. Trying to intimidate me, she bit her own tail tip. Hard. Snap. Bone fracture. Me: “…” The snake hissed at me righteously—showing me her tail. ? Excuse me? I stepped on you, so you bite yourself, and now I’m responsible? Is this fair? But if I hadn’t stepped on her, she wouldn’t have come all this way to hang herself on my door. I was conflicted. It’s a snake! What if she bites me? Just then, an AC repairman walked by. He saw the snake and his eyes lit up! “A Rat Snake! Perfect for snake soup!” The snake froze, tail stop shaking. I froze too. Seeing him reach for the snake, I panicked. “Sir! That snake is venomous! It bites!” The repairman didn’t care. “Nah, it’s just a Rat Snake. Non-venomous.” Seeing the snake about to meet its maker, I made a split-second decision. I took off my jacket, grabbed the snake, stuffed her into a bubble tea bag, and threw her into my apartment. “That’s my pet!” The repairman walked away, cursing. “Should have said so! Wasting my time!” … I closed the door and stared at the bag on the floor. The bag moved. A small head poked out, staring at me in terror. What do I do now? I took photos, looked up the species, searched “how to raise a snake” on Reddit, and found the nearest exotic pet vet. Terrified, I used chopsticks to poke her head back in and rushed to the vet. Well, she’s here now. Gotta be responsible. … At the hospital, I asked the vet cautiously. “Cats and dogs wear cones so they don’t lick their wounds. Do snakes need that?” The vet, experienced and calm, asked back: “Look at her. Where would you hang it?” I sheepishly let go of the leash I was looking at. The bill came. Four figures. Damn! Exotic vets are highway robbery! Half a day later, I returned home, eyes dead, carrying a pile of supplies, a bag of pinky mice, and a vivarium. If this was the snake’s revenge… She succeeded. That night, the snake proved she wasn’t useless. I was sleeping when I heard rustling in the living room. Groggily, I opened my eyes just as a gray shadow darted over me. I screamed like a banshee. But then! The snake easily headbutted open the “escape-proof” lid I paid a fortune for and chased the shadow like lightning! After catching the mouse, she paraded around the apartment like a conquering general. Finally, she dropped the dead mouse in front of me—plop—and hissed triumphantly. I stared at her with dead eyes, then at the expensive “escape-proof” tank. My sky collapsed. 2 I realized this snake was weird. She was interested in my iPad and phone? Whenever I lay on the couch scrolling, a small head would peek out nearby, peeping. Several times, I found my phone in camera mode with two tiny puncture marks on the screen protector. The gallery was full of extreme close-up snake selfies. Who was the culprit? A mystery. Especially after I fell asleep, she would sneakily try to steal my iPad, nearly smashing her own head in the process. Curious about what she wanted, I unlocked the iPad, “accidentally” left it by her tank, and set up a camera. In the middle of the night, the snake squeezed out of the glass gap, flattened herself, and expertly woke the iPad screen with her tail tip. Then I sat up in bed— She has a SnekBook account! I watched her tap the screen with her tail, typing: [My owner keeps saying I feel rough and prickly. How do I tell her the heating pad is shocking me?] Attached: Selfie.jpg I refreshed. Hundreds of comments roasting her. “Where did a basic Rat Snake get an owner? And a heating pad? Stop lying to yourself.” The next day, I checked on her. She was curled in a dark corner, a ball of misery. Autistic from anger. 3 I was too curious. While the Rat Snake slept, I secretly opened her SnekBook. Her profile pic was a selfie. Clearly taken by holding the phone in her mouth. Extreme close-up. Scrolling up, I actually found the post about her being stepped on! So my dream wasn’t a dream! This snake loved to overshare. But. Every. Single. Post. Was added to the “Loser” group by other snakes. Including but not limited to: [A human came while I was eating! I ate as fast as I could while vibrating my tail to scare them off!] I made the “grandpa looking at phone” face—shouldn’t a scared snake regurgitate and run??? But reading further, I couldn’t laugh anymore. Hit by a kid with a rock, head bleeding. Chased by a cat. Coming to find me was the first time she summoned courage… she even made a flower wreath. And bit her own tail. … I scrolled up, my heart aching. Snakes have a hard life in the city. Except for a few exotic pet owners, most people either scream or throw rocks. Honestly, even venomous snakes are terrified of people. They only bite as a last resort, thinking, I’m dying anyway, taking you with me. Humans are giants to them. They’re scared to death; why would they attack? I looked at the snake sleeping belly-up next to me. Whatever. Extra frozen mouse for the kid today. Just then, a DM notification popped up on her SnekBook. She didn’t wake up, just scratched her head with her tail tip and rolled over. Respecting her privacy, I quietly put the iPad back. But when I came back from a job interview, the snake was gone!!! 4 I panicked, tearing the house apart. I even unpacked my winter clothes, thinking she burrowed in there. Nothing. She can’t bark, so calling her was useless! I was desperate! Then I remembered the pet cam. I checked it, and my world collapsed again. She went out! This is Guangdong. If she goes out, she’s soup!!! Wait— I remembered the SnekBook on the iPad. I logged in and checked the DMs. She was invited out by another snake. The other snake’s profile pic was a cute, Extreme Red Albino Hognose. High EQ: “Chubby baby, so expensive!” Low EQ: “Wiggles like a fancy maggot.” Both species are known for low IQ and tail-biting. No wonder they’re friends! The Hognose was polite: “Hello Snake. I saw your post about being stepped on via ‘Nearby Snakes.’ Do you have wilderness survival experience? I only know how to escape my tank. My owner fainted. Can you tell me how to get out? I want to find help.” My Rat Snake, Cola (I named her!), was enthusiastic. “Sure! Where do you live?” “I’ll teach you how to open the door hiss hiss—” ? The address the Hognose gave… holy crap, it’s the apartment above mine. Unit 3102. I rushed out. Never mind how a snake reaches the elevator button. Did they think about this? One costs $2,000, the other costs the price of a vegetable dish. If they go out together, the Hognose’s owner might post a reward. But Cola? Am I supposed to fish her out of someone’s soup pot?! Time was critical! The elevator dinged. I rushed out and met Cola, who had slithered up the stairs, panting. …Okay then. Seeing me, Cola froze. Behind me, the door to 3102 clicked open. A flat, red-and-white head poked out. Seeing me, the Hognose stiffened. Tongue flick, belly up, play dead. Oscar-worthy performance. I looked at Cola, Cola looked at me. Just as she prepared to bolt, the Hognose’s concern for its owner overrode its instinct. It cried and crawled over. “…Hiss hiss hiss hiss.” ? Don’t understand. Need SnekBook. But Cola understood. She looked at me pitifully. The Hognose overcame its fear, crawling over, playing dead every other step. …Honestly, the wiggling really looked like a big-headed maggot. My morals and my sense of humor fought a fierce battle. Morals won. I held it in. I followed the Hognose inside. A young man was lying on the floor. I peeked. Whoa, handsome. But no time to admire. I checked his breathing—he was alive. I didn’t dare move him, so I called 911. While waiting for the ambulance, the Hognose was anxious. It stared at me, afraid I’d leave. The room was a mess. Spilled water cup, knocked over terrarium… The little guy really tried hard to make noise. Unlike Cola, he was short and fat. Who knows how much effort it took to contact help. I felt a pang of sympathy. Good baby! Until I saw him skillfully wiggle onto an iPad and unlock it with his belly pattern. Never mind.

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On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Julian, told me his mother was sick and that we needed to go take care of her. I didn’t hesitate to get in his car. But on the highway, he took a call from his ex-girlfriend. His face was a mask of pain. “Claire’s not in a good place mentally. I have to go comfort her. You’ll have to get out here and go to my mom’s alone. It’ll be good practice for you to get used to the role.” Just like that, he dumped me on the side of the road. But I wasn’t angry. Not one bit. After all, if he was willing to abandon his own sick mother to console his ex-ex-girlfriend, what could I, his brand new ex-girlfriend, possibly have to say? 01. Julian was on the phone with Claire Ashton while driving me to see his mother. He was on his headset, so I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I could see the conflict on his face as he soothed her, occasionally glancing my way with a pained expression. Finally, he took a deep breath, his mind made up. “Don’t cry,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m on my way.” “It’s fine. She’ll understand.” He hung up and pulled over to the shoulder of the highway, turning to me with a soft voice. “Claire’s having a really hard time. I need to go be with her.” “Are you sure about this?” I asked, my voice flat. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “Claire just lost her mother and grandmother. Have some compassion.” “Are you absolutely certain you want to leave me here, right now?” I pressed. His impatience was now palpable. “Mina, be reasonable. Get out of the car.” I smiled. “Alright.” His brow relaxed. He shifted in his seat, as if about to offer some hollow comfort, but I was already out of the car. His hand, halfway extended, dropped back to his side. He sighed. “Look, just go on to Mom’s, will you? Try to make a good impression. It’s a good chance to finally get her to approve of you.” Then, he drove off. I called a rideshare and went straight back to Julian’s apartment to pack my things. I have my own small place and only stayed with him occasionally, so it didn’t take long. In the middle of moving, I got a call from the hospital. A nurse informed me that the prepaid funds on Mrs. Vance’s account had run out and that another payment was due. Martha Vance, Julian’s mother, was a frequent guest at the hospital. I’d covered a bill for her once as a favor, and somehow, it had become my responsibility ever since. Julian, obsessed with his image, would always pay me back, but not before rounding down the total and dragging his feet for weeks. I gave the nurse Julian’s number and made it clear that I was no longer affiliated with their family. They could chase him for the money. On second thought, I decided to do the responsible thing and call Julian to let him know. He didn’t pick up. After a few more tries, he blocked my number. Still determined to be responsible, I used a different number to text him about the hospital bill and to officially tell him we were done. Whatever happened after that was none of my business. 02. The next morning, I went to the office early to hand in my resignation to Julian. Years ago, he’d asked me to help him build his dream from the ground up. What he’d really wanted was an assistant with no official title or recognition, working for peanuts. “Everything I have is yours,” he’d said. “I’ll give you a generous allowance every month, so we don’t need to worry about things like shares or a fancy title. A smaller salary is better for you anyway, for tax purposes.” I was in love with him then, and I was willing to give up a promising career to join his startup, but his proposal set off alarm bells. “My salary is what I earn for my labor,” I had told him firmly. “Paying taxes is a civic duty. But I’m young and capable. What would I look like taking an ‘allowance’ from you?” “Besides,” I’d added, “without a proper title, I’ll have no authority. What kind of company has the boss’s personal assistant running around negotiating deals? How am I supposed to manage a team? You’re building a legitimate business, not some fly-by-night operation.” Julian had looked furious, but in the end, he’d given me a proper title and a fair salary. To his credit, he was talented. In a few years, the company had grown from a single office to occupying three floors of a skyscraper in the heart of the financial district. But none of that mattered to me anymore. After a breakup like this, staying at his company was out of the question. What I didn’t expect was to find Claire Ashton sitting in Julian’s office when I walked in. Before I could even register my surprise, he launched his attack. “What was wrong with you yesterday? Didn’t I tell you to go see my mother? Do you have any idea… Thank God I sent Sarah to check on her.” The office door was still open. Sarah, Julian’s actual assistant, happened to be walking by. She heard him, her face contorted in a pained grimace, and she quickly scurried away. Sarah was constantly being ordered to run Julian’s personal errands without overtime pay. It was only after my repeated insistence that he’d grudgingly given her a small raise. I closed the door. “I told you about the hospital bill,” I said with a dry laugh. “But you were too busy having a moment with Claire, so you blocked me.” Claire bristled. “I know it was wrong of me to bother Julian yesterday, Miss Reed, but nothing happened between us. You have no right to slander me like that.” Julian’s face darkened. “Mina, watch your mouth. I told you, I was just comforting her. Don’t be so dirty-minded.” “Comforting her all night and bringing her to the office today?” Julian was momentarily speechless. “Claire said she needed something to do, so I brought her in. Starting today, she’ll be taking your position. You can be her deputy.” I stared at him. “Excuse me?” “She needs the work experience,” he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “Don’t worry, your salary and benefits will remain the same. Only your title will change.” Claire put on a brave face. “I won’t be staying at Julian’s company for long, Miss Reed. You don’t have to worry.” I almost laughed. “And who’s going to do the actual work?” The responsibilities of Director and Deputy Director were worlds apart. Julian looked guilty. “Claire’s been living abroad. She’s not used to the corporate culture here. You’ll need to help her.” “Never mind,” Claire said, feigning nonchalance. “Perhaps I’m asking too much. I’ll figure something else out.” “Wait!” Julian grabbed her hand, then turned to me, his voice sharp. “Mina, be reasonable. I haven’t even gotten on your case about yesterday.” “Oh, cut the act, both of you,” I said with a thin smile. “I quit.” 03. News of my resignation spread through the company like wildfire. Members of my team flooded our group chat with messages of support, asking if I was taking them with me. I was surprised by how unpopular Julian was, though on reflection, it made perfect sense. In the early days, he’d been fine. But as the company grew, his respect for his employees dwindled. Benefits were constantly cut, and his primary method of compensation was empty promises. When I tried to reason with him, he’d get angry and lecture me about his version of “executive mindset.” I didn’t want to burn everything to the ground, and I planned on taking a break before looking for a new job, so I politely declined their offers. They were all top performers; they would have no trouble finding better positions elsewhere. A few days later, I received a call from a headhunter. The Winslow Corporation was offering me double my current salary, along with a host of other incredible benefits. They even said that if I could bring my team, the salary was negotiable. I hung up, completely bewildered. The Winslow Corporation was a titan of industry. Julian’s company, while successful, was a guppy next to their blue whale. Why on earth would they be headhunting me and my team? I suspected it was a scam, but the documents the headhunter sent over were legitimate. It was really them. I wracked my brain but couldn’t think of a single connection I had to the Winslows. Still, an opportunity like this was too good to pass up. I agreed to an interview. Just then, Julian summoned me to his office. I walked in to find him glowering. “What do you want?” “Why aren’t you cooperating with Claire?” “Cooperating with what? Making her coffee? Running photocopies? Is that my job now?” “She… she doesn’t know the ropes yet. You don’t have to have such a bad attitude. You could teach her.” “I’m already preparing the handover documents. I’ll get them to her as soon as possible. Until then, tell her to stay out of my way.” “Handover? What handover? You’ll be Director again as soon as she leaves.” “We broke up, Julian. It’s not appropriate for me to stay here.” “Broke up? I never agreed to that!” He shot to his feet, his face turning a dark shade of red. “Are you serious, Mina? You’re giving me a death sentence over one mistake?” “It wasn’t just one mistake. Have you forgotten what happened two years ago?” Two years ago, on the night we were supposed to celebrate our anniversary, Claire had called in a panic, claiming she had a fever. Julian had ignored my protests and rushed out to take her to the hospital. He didn’t come back for two days. When he finally did, he was full of apologies, saying he couldn’t bear the thought of her being sick and alone in the city, so far from her family. He swore to me it would never happen again. I still loved him then, so I forgave him. But I also told him there wouldn’t be a second time. Now, hearing me bring it up, Julian actually laughed. “Are you jealous? That was so long ago. Fine, I promise you. After I help her through this, I’ll cut off all contact. Just give me one more chance. Don’t they say everyone deserves a second chance?” I shook my head. “You should probably focus on getting her up to speed.” His expression hardened. “You’re really doing this?” “What did you expect?” I turned and walked out of his office. As the door clicked shut behind me, I heard the sound of something shattering against the wall. There was no “second chance” rule in my book. Forgiving him once had been a moment of love-induced madness I wouldn’t repeat. 04. I returned to my office to see Claire directing someone to move a cardboard box out of the room. The employee was moving at a glacial pace, and his face flooded with relief when he saw me. My stomach clenched. “In a hurry?” I asked, my voice tight. Claire crossed her arms. “Julian said I could have this office, so I had someone pack up your things.” I shot her a withering look. “You could have waited for me to get back. Were you raised to go through people’s belongings the second they turn their back?” I took the box from the employee. “You can go. I’ll handle it.” He practically fled. Walking back into my office, I immediately started rummaging through the box. Claire followed me in. “What are you doing?” “Making sure nothing’s missing or broken.” She scoffed. “You think I’d steal from you?” Just then, my fingers brushed against what I had been dreading I’d find at the bottom of the box. A fountain pen. The moment I saw it, the blood rushed to my head.

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While accompanying my parents to transfer the title of my new house, I saw a video my sister posted online titled “A Toast to the Past.” In the video, my sister was smiling, basking in my parents’ adoring gazes. “First toast: When I was little, I was misdiagnosed with leukemia. My parents had a second child to save me, but it turned out to be a false alarm. Afraid they couldn’t take care of me properly, they sent my little sister to live in the countryside.” “Second toast: After my sister came back, our family went bankrupt. But for the sake of my image, my parents still threw me a huge birthday party at a luxury hotel.” “Third toast: I didn’t get into my dream college, so my parents sold everything to send me abroad. Now, I’m happily living off them.” “Fourth toast: To my parents again. I’m getting married the day after tomorrow. To give me status in my husband’s family, Mom is secretly transferring the family house to my name tomorrow.” I realized I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. 1 I was alone in the bathroom when I saw the video. The air around me seemed to freeze. I zoomed in on the video, playing it over and over. Three faces I knew better than anyone. Unwilling to believe it, I switched to a burner account and commented: [Does the poster have a sister?] Surprisingly, my sister replied quickly. [The house was actually bought by my sister. We’re transferring it to my parents today, but she doesn’t know it’s ultimately going to me~] I gripped my phone tight, then let go. My mom’s voice urged from outside: “Paige, did you fall in? Hurry up, our number is almost called!” I wiped my eyes but couldn’t open my mouth. Recently, I bought a three-bedroom apartment downtown with my own savings, paid in full. When my parents found out, they repeatedly persuaded me to transfer the title to them. “It’s safer in our name. If your boyfriend is just after your property, this protects you.” My sister, Chloe, chimed in: “Mom and Dad are right. It’s not safe for a girl to have property in her name.” I discussed it with my boyfriend, Liam. He was furious. “Paige, do you just do whatever your parents say? You’re an adult. Can’t you think for yourself?” We had a huge fight. Subconsciously, I believed my parents. I ignored Liam’s hesitation. Walking out of the bathroom, I rubbed my dry eyes. My mom didn’t notice anything wrong. She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the registration desk, scolding me as usual. “You child, you’re always so slow. You’re nothing like your sister.” I paused. Thinking of the video, I couldn’t help but ask: “Mom, why did you send me to the countryside when I was born?” 2 As soon as I spoke, my mom’s face changed. Embarrassment mixed with guilt, finally settling into impatience. “I told you, your dad and I were busy. We couldn’t handle two kids, and you were a high-needs baby. We had no choice.” I swallowed the bitterness in my throat. I already knew the answer. Chloe and I are only ten months apart. When she was born, she was misdiagnosed with leukemia. My parents heard cord blood could save her, so my mom risked her life to have a second child immediately. Me. But fate loves a joke. As soon as I was born prematurely, the hospital revealed Chloe was misdiagnosed. She just had malnutrition. Meanwhile, I was born six pounds four ounces, healthy and loud. Back then, my parents were hoping for a son. They couldn’t bear to send Chloe away, so I became the abandoned one. When I was six, Grandpa died. My parents brought Chloe back for the funeral. That’s when I learned from Grandma’s whispers that I wasn’t an unwanted orphan. I had parents and a sister. After the funeral, Grandma held my mom’s hand, teary-eyed, saying she was getting too old to care for me and wanted them to take me back to the city. I hid behind Grandma, terrified of leaving her, crying my eyes out. My mom just frowned and said, “Mom, it’s not that I don’t want to. Look at her, she’s not close to us at all. Taking care of Chloe is already exhausting; I can’t handle her.” In the end, I was left behind. From that day on, the village ladies looked at me with careful pity. Like tiny needles pricking my heart. Not painful, just uncomfortable. Later, I studied hard and got into a top middle school in the county with the highest scores. That’s when my parents seemed to remember they had a forgotten daughter in the countryside. When I first returned to the city, I gathered the courage to ask why they sent me away. Their answer then was word-for-word the same as my mom’s answer now. 3 I knew everything. I knew about the misdiagnosis, their desire for a son, their hesitation-free choice to keep Chloe. As long as they were willing to explain, even if it was the same lie, I chose to believe it. Because deep down, I wished those reasons were true. I wished they cared about me, even a little. “Mom, Dad, do you know what day it is?” I sat on the cold bench, looking at my anxious parents. They froze. “What day is it?” Recovering quickly, my mom smiled coyly. “I know, it’s an auspicious day for property transfer! You silly child, being superstitious!” Bitterness surged in my throat, suffocating me. “Today is my birthday.” Silence again. Memories flooded back. When I was first brought home, before I could adjust, Dad’s business went bankrupt. The big apartment, the car, the cabinet full of dolls in Chloe’s room—all mortgaged overnight. My birthday coincided with moving day. The truck rumbled downstairs. Mom busied herself in the kitchen and brought out a bowl of longevity noodles with two pieces of bok choy. Red-eyed, she told me: “Paige, I’m sorry. We have no money. I can only make you noodles. Look at your sister, she didn’t even get noodles for her birthday. You need to be sensible and yield to her.” I thought Chloe really suffered. From then on, I stopped celebrating birthdays. I yielded everything to her. I washed the dishes she didn’t want to wash. I wore the old clothes she didn’t like. I never asked for the toys she demanded. Until the college entrance exam results came out. I held my acceptance letter to a top university, my fingertips burning. In the living room, Mom was crying over Chloe failing to get in. “My poor baby, we can’t afford two kids in college. How can we face Paige…” Those words stabbed my heart. Watching Chloe’s grievance and Mom’s tears, I silently stuffed my acceptance letter deep into a drawer. That night, Chloe said she was going south to work to “support my education.” My parents sighed in silence. “Chloe is sacrificing so much.” She left that night with her luggage. A few days later, Mom held a recruitment flyer. “Your sister is working. We can’t afford your tuition. You should go work in a factory too.” For the next three years, I worked on an assembly line until my hands were calloused. I kept $50 a month and sent the rest home. My parents always said Chloe was suffering in the south, making it impossible for me to mention going back to school. Until I saw Chloe’s video today. It wasn’t that we were too poor for two bowls of noodles. The grievance of “poverty” was reserved only for me. Mom’s “suffering” meant Chloe didn’t have to work in a factory. Chloe’s “work” was studying abroad. And I, who gave up my dreams and suffered for three years, was the fool kept in the dark. The cold broadcast called Mom’s number, pulling me back. Looking at my anxious parents, I suddenly felt choked by that bowl of noodles from when I was twelve. 4 “Oh, stop it. You’re an adult, why are you so petty?” Mom waved her hand dismissively. “It’s just a birthday. I’ll make you longevity noodles when we get home.” Dad stood up, urging, “Alright, enough talk. Let’s transfer the title.” I shook off Mom’s hand. While they weren’t looking, I snatched the number slip. I tore it to shreds. “Mom, Dad, I have work. Let’s do this another time.” Mom stared at my hand and screamed: “Paige! Why did you tear it?!” Her voice was shrill and trembling, eyes fixed on the confetti falling from my fingers. Dad’s face darkened instantly, anger burning in his tone: “Do you know how hard it was to get this number? Your mom and I came yesterday to ask about the process and lined up before dawn today! You just tore it up? What are you doing?” 5 Their “important business” was just taking my property to give Chloe face in her new family. Dad’s desperation was undisguised. He didn’t notice my knuckles turning white. I stepped back, avoiding their hands. I dropped the last pieces of paper. “I told you, work emergency. Another time.” Seeing my resolve, Mom’s tone softened instantly, coaxing: “What can’t wait? The transfer takes a moment. Afterwards, Mom will take you to eat something good, better than noodles, okay?” She moved closer, trying to take my hand, desperation in her eyes. I stepped back again. Dad’s face was grim, brow furrowed hard. He guessed with certainty: “Did that boyfriend of yours say something? Why did you change your mind?” Mom’s brow furrowed too, her softness gone. Her voice rose, sharp and scolding: “I knew that boyfriend wasn’t good! He’s manipulating you! Paige, don’t be stupid. Only Mom and Dad truly care about you! Let’s talk at home, I’ll get a new number. We must transfer the title today!” She turned toward the machine. Watching one rushing to judge and the other rushing to transfer, the fire in my chest exploded. I couldn’t hold it back. I screamed with all my strength. My voice trembled. “Are you thinking about me, or have you only ever thought about Chloe?!”

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To secure a multi-million dollar contract and buy a villa for his illegitimate daughter, my father got me blackout drunk and delivered me to the bed of his wealthy best friend. We had a wild night. But when Julian woke up, he looked at me with pure disgust. “I’m your family friend. I’m your elder. To satisfy your own sick desires, you drugged me? You have no shame.” He threw me out of the house, naked, claiming he never wanted to see me again. Terrified of offending the powerful Thorne family, my father dragged me to a shady psychiatric institution that very night. I was beaten, electrocuted, and assaulted by the director and his staff. Just as they were preparing to perform an illegal lobotomy on me, I finally snapped. I threw myself off the roof. As I lay dying, a voice, distant and ethereal, whispered in my ear. “Little girl, give me your heart, and I’ll let you live. Deal?” 1. I don’t remember if I said yes. I only remember waking up with a hollow emptiness in my chest. The doctors and orderlies who used to treat me like an insect were now looking at me with sheer terror. “Miss Quinn… please… here are your discharge papers.” “We called your family. Please, have mercy. Spare us.” I rolled my wrist, which felt a little stiff. Then I remembered. I made a deal with a devil before I died. He told me I had a heart that was too pure, too kind. That heart was why I always put others first, and why I had been bullied my entire life. So, I gave it to him. He took away the sweet, fragile Quinn who craved love and family. And he left behind the monster—violent, cruel, and completely void of emotion. Standing there, clutching my discharge papers, I watched the black stretch limo pull up below. I started laughing. This was… perfect. From this moment on, I could finally let the people who hurt me understand what it feels like to be trampled on. When I walked back into the house, the family that had been laughing and chatting instantly fell silent. Julian instinctively pulled my stepsister, Bella, behind him protectively. My father looked at me with undisguised revulsion. “Why are you back so soon?” “And what are you wearing? Are you trying to play the victim?” I looked down at my hospital gown. It was filthy, crusted with layers of blood. The dark, dried stains at the bottom were mine. The fresh, bright red stains? Those belonged to the people who tried to hurt me before I left. When I didn’t answer, Dad’s tone got harsher. “Get to your room. Don’t stand there being an eyesore.” “We’re discussing Julian and Bella’s wedding. We don’t have time for you.” I followed his gaze to Julian. I hadn’t seen him in three years. He looked as dashing as ever. Just like that night. I remembered clearly how he kicked me off the bed. My lower back slammed into the nightstand, pain shooting through my spine. There was no pity in his eyes then, only loathing. “Quinn, how can you be so cheap?” “I’m your father’s friend. I’ve known you since you were a kid. You crush on me, fine, but drugging me? That’s incestuous and sick.” “Your father is a proud man. How did he raise a daughter so low, indistinguishable from a streetwalker?” He refused to let me dress before throwing me out onto the front lawn. And now, three years later, this man of “high morals” was about to marry my illegitimate stepsister. Before, this would have broken me. But now? My heart was gone. And with it, my love for Julian. Perhaps my stare was too intense. Julian frowned. “Three years in the asylum and you still haven’t learned your lesson?” “I’m warning you, don’t get any ideas. I can send you back there with a single phone call.” The threats washed over me. I pressed a hand to my chest. Nothing. No pain. No sadness. Not even despair. Back then, I had escaped the ward with a broken leg, crawling to a payphone to call Julian. I begged him to save me. I promised I’d disappear if he just got me out. He agreed. Then he called the director. “How are you treating her? She hasn’t learned a thing. She’s even learned to act pitiful now.” “If she escapes again, I’m pulling your funding.” Because of that call, the director broke my limbs and prepped me for surgery. He wanted to turn me into a vegetable so I could never leave hell again. That’s why I jumped. My thoughts snapped back to the present. I smiled sincerely at Julian. “Julian, thank you for giving me the chance to be a new person.” “Don’t worry. I definitely won’t love you anymore.” And I definitely won’t show you any mercy. 2. My coldness didn’t make Julian happy. If anything, it seemed to annoy him. He cleared his throat to speak, but Bella interrupted. She walked over, her hand adorned with a ten-carat diamond ring, and pinched my arm hard, right on a bruise. “Sister, I’m so glad you’re back. No one is more suited to be my bridesmaid than you.” “You don’t know how boring it’s been without you.” “I’ve been waiting for you to come back so we can… play.” I smiled at Bella. “My dear sister, I’ve been waiting for this reunion too.” Years ago, my parents built their business from scratch. I suffered through poverty with them. Just when life was getting good, Bella’s mom showed up with her. They stressed my mother until she died of a stroke. Overnight, I went from the cherished daughter to the unwanted burden. The day she moved in, Bella smashed my mother’s photo and took my bedroom. She framed me for stealing and got me banished to the utility closet. It was hot, dusty, and cramped. Every time I came out, Bella would cover her nose and say I smelled. I wasn’t allowed at the dinner table. I ate leftovers. I wore rags. I endured Bella’s punches and kicks whenever she was in a bad mood. Once, starving, I snuck a piece of cake Bella had thrown in the trash. She caught me. She took a needle and thread and literally sewed my lips shut. The nanny wanted to take me to the ER. My father stopped her. He tore the thread out of my flesh himself. “How do I have such a useless daughter? If people find out, where will I put my face?” “If you were half as elegant as your sister, I wouldn’t hate you so much!” To hide the “shame,” he fired the staff and made me do all the chores. I rolled on the floor in pain that day, but all I could think was: The cake was sweet. If I’m good, maybe Dad will buy me a cake one day. Now, looking at Bella’s smile and my father’s disgust, all I wanted to do was take a cake fork and jam it into their eyes. I grabbed Bella’s hand. “Sister, your hands are so pretty. Long, slender fingers. Manicured perfectly.” “Mine used to look like that. Until you smashed them with a hammer. Now they’re crooked and ugly.” Bella yanked her hand back, looking guilty and scared. “What are you talking about?” she gasped. “You’re just jealous I’m marrying Julian. How can you slander me like that?” Julian immediately pulled her into a hug. “Quinn! When will you stop lying? Bella is pure and kind. Just because I love her doesn’t mean you get to attack her!” Dad slapped me across the face. “You bully your sister the moment you get back? You should have died in that hospital!” I covered my stinging cheek and lowered my head so they wouldn’t see my smile. Yes. I did die. I died from my family’s cruelty and my lover’s betrayal. The thing standing here now is a monster without a heart. A demon who has come to collect. 3. Dad locked me in the utility room to “reflect,” afraid I’d ruin the wedding planning. I curled up in the dark corner, listening to their laughter and the clinking of wine glasses. I wrote their names on the dusty floor, over and over. The slap hurt. The last twenty years hurt. Killing them quickly would be too easy. How do I make them pay back everything I suffered? I drifted into a light sleep, only to be woken by hands roaming over my body. It felt like the asylum. The predatory touch. I snapped my eyes open to see Julian staring at me. His breath was hot, reeking of whiskey. I slapped him hard. “Julian, what the hell are you doing?” The slap seemed to sober him up slightly. His eyes, filled with lust a moment ago, shifted to disdain. “What am I doing? Quinn, you’re trying to seduce me again. You really are shameless.” “Looks like the last lesson wasn’t enough.” Three years, and nothing had changed. Back then, he slept with me while sober, but claimed I drugged him to save his reputation. Now, he was drunk and molesting me, but wanted to pin the blame on me again. But I wasn’t the same Quinn. I stared at him calmly, my hand creeping toward a heavy glass vase on the shelf. Before this moment, I had considered letting Julian live. After all, he had saved me once, years ago, when Bella’s friends were beating me up. He had given me his jacket and told me, “If anyone bullies you, come find me. I’ll protect you.” That one sentence made me fall in love with him. It was why I forgave him for taking my virginity and discarding me. It was why I held onto hope in the asylum. But now? That feeling was dead. I just wanted to rip his chest open and see if he had a heart at all. Suddenly, Julian grabbed my wrist. His gaze fell on my chest, where my shirt had been torn. “Why… why do you have so many scars?” In the moonlight, the jagged, raised scars were horrifying. Julian looked shocked. “I told the director to just teach you discipline. I told them not to hurt you too badly…” They taught me discipline, alright. They just enjoyed doing it with branding irons. I was about to smash the vase over his head when the door burst open. Bella stood there, eyes red. “It’s the middle of the night. What are you two doing?” Julian let go of me like I was on fire. The concern vanished. “Quinn, I can’t believe you. Three years away and you’re still a slut.” “I’m marrying Bella. No matter how much you throw yourself at me, I will never want you!” Dad rushed in, trembling with rage. He grabbed a wooden plank and smashed it over my back. “I should beat you to death!” Bella glanced at Julian and feigned kindness. “Dad, stop. She’s always been like this. Don’t hurt your hand.” “But we should send her back to the hospital. The wedding is coming up. If she ruins it, we’ll be the laughingstock of the city.” Dad agreed immediately. He dragged Julian out to “calm him down.” Watching their retreating backs, I laughed. Julian just missed his only chance to find out the truth. His only chance for mercy. I dug through the clutter and found an old, rusty claw hammer. I walked out of the room. Time to get started. 4. I stood in the hallway, watching the happy family in the living room. Julian was hugging Bella. Dad was transferring money to her account to cheer her up. My stepmother, Linda, was feeding her fruit. It was the scene I had dreamed of for three years. Finally, Bella smiled. She said she was tired and went to her room. But instead of sleeping, she grabbed a fruit knife and headed for the utility room. “Quinn, you bitch. Three years in the loony bin and you still want my man? I’m going to carve up your face tonight.” I stepped out of the shadows behind her. “Looking for me?” Bella spun around, her face twisting. “You dare come out? The men in the asylum couldn’t satisfy you, so you came for my fiancé?” She lunged at me with the knife. I didn’t flinch. I swung the hammer. Crack. It smashed directly into her nose. Before she could scream, I shoved her own hand into her mouth. “Shhh.” “Keep it down. We don’t want to wake the others.” “It’s no fun if you die too fast.” Pain turned her anger into terror. She whimpered against her hand. I smiled, tracing the knife blade in the air. “The director carved the word ‘whore’ into my skin over and over just to make you happy. Should I carve one into your face?” “Oh, you want to know how I got out? It was easy. I just sliced through them, one by one… like this.” I pressed the knife against her cheek and sliced downward. Blood sprayed onto my face. I felt a rush of adrenaline. But she was weak. She fainted before I finished the first letter. Pathetic. I held out for ten letters. I dragged her by her hair toward her bedroom, humming a tune. Who’s next?

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Three years into my marriage to one of the Shin brothers—and my best friend’s to the other—the woman they’d never gotten over came back. At the family dinner, Caleb Shin, my friend’s husband, landed a vicious slap across her face for defending that woman. When I rushed over, Anna collapsed into my arms, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. “Phoebe, I can’t take this anymore! That bastard hit me, he actually hit me for her!” “I have to get out of here. What about you?” I thought of Damian Shin, my own husband. His growing coldness since Isabelle Thorne returned, the nights he never came home. A bitter smile touched my lips. “If you’re running, I’m running with you.” We planned for weeks, a secret whispered between us. Finally, we were on a plane, slipping away from it all without a soul knowing. But as I settled into my seat, my eyes met a face as cold as a glacier. Damian. Just like that, we were dragged back and locked in a dark room in the Shin manor to “reflect” on our actions. As I racked my brain, trying to figure out which part of our perfect plan had gone wrong, Anna’s voice, small and weak, broke the silence. “I’m so sorry, Phoebe… I did it for your own good.” 1 For a moment, I didn’t process her words. I just stared at her. “What are you talking about?” Anna was already terrified of the dark. My flat, emotionless question was the final crack in her composure. She shrank back, finally confessing in a timid whisper. “Please don’t be mad.” “Damian… he’s the head of Shin Corp. The man is terrifyingly smart! He knew something was up with us for ages!” “The day we left, I had just grabbed my suitcase and opened my door, and there he was. A face that could freeze hell over. He was waiting for me!” “You know how scared I am of your husband, especially when he gets that look. He started grilling me, and I was too terrified to even lie. I told him everything…” I couldn’t believe it. Our escape had been sabotaged from the inside. A firestorm of anger raged in my gut, but one look at Anna’s face—a canvas of genuine fear and remorse—softened the edges of my fury. A headache began to throb at my temples. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, forcing my voice to be gentle. “Then why didn’t you tell me on the way to the airport? If he knew, we could have just canceled the plan, thrown him off our trail, and figured something else out later.” “But now look at us. He has all the leverage…” At the mention of this, Anna’s own anger flared. “It’s all Damian’s fault!” “I thought, okay, even if he was going to stop us, he’d just take you back. I never imagined he’d interfere with me! I’m not his wife!” …Such a naive thought. That was my best friend. Wonderful in every way, but so naive it bordered on foolishness. The Shin brothers’ father died young. Damian, as the eldest, saw himself as a father figure to Caleb. Once he knew our plan, how could he possibly let her go? Especially after the scene she’d made at the family dinner just days ago. If she left alone right now, what kind of rumors would start flying? I sighed, closing my eyes to hide the wave of exhaustion. I had poured so much of myself into planning this escape. Anna watched my face, her own expression crumbling, on the verge of tears. She suddenly threw her arms around my legs, her pout dramatic. “I’m sorry, Phoebe! Please don’t be mad, okay?” “I was just trying to do what was best for you! Before I told him, I thought about it really hard. Damian is good to you, you know? He gives you anything you want.” “If you’d really run away with me, we might have had to struggle for a long, long time.” “I couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering. So I figured, if you stayed with Damian, at least you’d be protected.” She paused, her face twisting with bitterness. “Besides, Caleb obviously doesn’t want me anymore.” “I’m sure Damian told him about our plan the second he found out.” “But look—Caleb didn’t even react. He didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t care that I was leaving.” “It doesn’t matter if you escape or not. But him… he really doesn’t love me anymore.” Her tears extinguished the last embers of my anger. My heart ached for her. I pulled her into a tight hug, about to offer some comfort, when the door to the dark room was kicked open with a loud bang. Caleb stood in the doorway, his face a thundercloud as he glared at Anna. “Well, look at you, Anna. Gotten brave, have we? The girl who gets lost five blocks from home thinks she can run away? Who gave you the guts?” “So I slapped you the other day. Big deal. You haven’t exactly held back on me our whole lives, have you? Is this really necessary?” 2 They had known each other since they were kids, and every argument inevitably turned into them dredging up the past. Just as I expected, Anna shot to her feet, her voice sharp with anger. “You think what happened then is the same as what happened the other day?” “That was when we were kids! We were just playing around!” Caleb’s eye twitched. He crossed his arms, his expression flat. “Right. Playing around.” “When we were nine, you pulled my chair out from under me as I stood up to answer a question in class. I hit my head on the desk behind me and got a mild concussion.” “When we were thirteen, you tied my shoelaces together while I was sleeping. I fell, broke my leg, and spent New Year’s in the hospital.” “To you, that’s all ‘playing around.’ Well, after all these years, I only slapped you once. Seems to me, I was being pretty generous.” This kind of sparring was their normal. Watching them, I felt an unexpected pang of envy. Anna was cornered, her face flushed as she struggled for a response. Finally, the anger drained away, replaced by an icy calm. “Whatever you say. You still hit me for another woman.” “Caleb, I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.” “Even if I can’t leave today, this marriage is over.” Anyone who knew her understood that as long as she was yelling and fighting, it wasn’t serious. But when she lost the energy to even argue, that’s when you knew her heart was truly broken. The gravity of the situation finally seemed to hit Caleb. Realizing he couldn’t just charm his way out of this one, his expression sobered. He sighed and, to my surprise, turned to me. “You shouldn’t just be watching the show, Phoebe. You’re the one who really needs to think about what you’ve done.” “Anna and I have our issues, sure, misunderstandings we need to sort out. But my brother… he’s respected you for three years. He’s given you all the dignity a Shin wife could ask for.” “You never should have gotten involved in Anna’s little drama today.” Anna sniffled, her attention turning to me as well. “Yeah, Phoebe, I never asked… why did you want to leave with me?” “I always thought Damian treated you with respect. He never embarrassed you in public, he gave you money to spend… not like my situation…” She shot a venomous glare at Caleb and snorted. “I had no choice but to leave!” I froze, then lowered my eyes with a humorless smile. Respect. Everyone else could see it so clearly. Even someone as oblivious as Anna could see it. For Damian, all he ever had for me was respect. I used to think that for a man as cold as him, respect and dignity were all he was capable of giving. But after Isabelle Thorne came back, I learned the truth. He was capable of love. 3 Unlike Anna and Caleb’s childhood romance, my marriage to Damian was a simple business arrangement. At first, I told myself he was just reserved and composed from years of running Shin Corp. A loveless, arranged marriage was bound to be a bit cold. But after three years, I often wondered if his coldness went too far. We were husband and wife, but outside of family dinners at the manor and polite greetings in the morning and evening, we barely spoke. If I tried to show a little concern, I’d be met with a curt: “I don’t like needy women.” Or, “Don’t do unnecessary things.” If his mother wasn’t pressuring him for a grandchild, I doubt he would have touched me more than a handful of times a month. And even when he did, it was like a chore, a duty he was performing for his elders. He’d work with a silent focus, and the moment he was finished, he would pull away without a trace of tenderness and head for the shower. No lingering touch, no shared warmth. I never felt an ounce of affection from him. If I didn’t have Anna for company in the sprawling estate, the loneliness would have driven me mad long ago. I knew he wouldn’t change for me, so I forced myself to adapt, to accept his chilling indifference. Until Isabelle Thorne came back. I watched him carefully the day he took her call. Longing, excitement, regret, resolve. For the first time, I saw a storm of complex emotions cross his perpetually frozen face. And in that moment, I knew how wrong I had been. The day Isabelle returned was my birthday. I’d swallowed my pride and begged him for days, finally getting him to agree to spend it with me like a normal couple. A shopping trip, a movie, a candlelit dinner. But after that phone call, he didn’t even spare me a glance. As he rushed out the door, he threw a careless excuse over his shoulder. “Urgent business at the office. I’ll take you out when I get back.” Clinging to that promise, I waited, my makeup flawless, my hope stubborn. I waited for hours. Because I knew that was one thing about Damian: he never broke a promise. But I sat there as the sun climbed high and then sank below the horizon, the moon taking its place. My heart sank with it, piece by piece, into a dark abyss. At three in the morning, staring at the long list of rejected calls on my phone, I dialed his number one last time. This is your last chance, Damian, I thought. Decline this one, and I’m done. But this time, he answered. I was stunned. A tidal wave of emotions rushed to my lips, but I didn’t know what to say. Before I could speak, a sound came from the other end of the line. An intimate, breathless gasp. Raw, heated, and intense. Followed by his low, husky laugh. “Kiss me.” It was a tone he’d never used with me in bed. Utterly different. He didn’t need to say anything else. I understood everything. And my heart turned to ash. So, he wasn’t a mountain incapable of feeling. He just wouldn’t tremble for me. … After hearing my story, Anna threw her arms around my neck, her voice thick with emotion. “Oh, Phoebe, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I had no idea you were going through all that.” “If I had known, I swear, even if Damian had skinned me alive today, I would never have told him our plan!” Caleb, who had been listening silently, hesitated. “Phoebe, my brother, he…” Anna cut him off, her eyes red. “Get out! You and your brother are both bastards! Get out!” She kicked and yelled until Caleb finally retreated. Turning back to me, she saw the lingering bitterness on my face and hugged me tighter. “Ugh, how did we both get so unlucky?” “We gave our hearts to the wrong men…” I let out a quiet sigh. When you give your heart to the wrong person, the only thing to do is take it back. I forced myself to rally, managing a weak smile. “It’s okay. We still have a chance.” “We failed this time, so we’ll just try again.” “But next time,” I added, looking her straight in the eye, “you are not allowed to sell me out.” 4 At dinner, Anna and I were finally released. Several of the Shin elders had gathered at the manor, and to my surprise, Isabelle Thorne was there too. Truthfully, among the younger generation present, my family background made me the least qualified to marry Damian Shin. The only reason I was his wife was because my family, the Shen family, had provided crucial help when Shin Corp was just starting out. Our marriage wasn’t so much a strategic alliance as it was a repayment of that debt, a way to elevate my family’s status. Because of this, my mother-in-law, Eleanor Shin, held me in the lowest regard. When she heard about our escape attempt, she lectured Anna with a few mild rebukes. But when her gaze landed on me, her face transformed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Anna was upset, it’s understandable for her to have a little tantrum.” “But you, Phoebe. As the eldest daughter-in-law of this family, instead of calming her down, you joined in on the foolishness? How utterly common. You clearly come from a family with no real standing, acting without thinking. What an embarrassment.” I wasn’t being foolish. And since everyone was here, it was the perfect time to clear the air. I threw a cool glance at Isabelle and was about to speak. But she beat me to it, her voice a soft, cloying purr. “Oh, Eleanor, don’t be angry. I was partly to blame for this, too. That’s why I came today, to explain.” “The day I got back, I accidentally answered a call on Damian’s phone from an unsaved number. The person on the other end didn’t say anything and just hung up.” “Thinking back, it must have been you, Phoebe, wasn’t it? Did you misunderstand something? Is that why you ran away?” She smiled sweetly, but her eyes held a glint of triumph. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, my expression blank. “So? What is your explanation?” “What were you two doing that day?” She giggled, a picture of false innocence. “I’d just gotten back, and I missed Damian so much! We were just… catching up!” Catching up with breathless, intimate gasps? That must have been quite the emotional reunion. A cold smirk formed on my lips. I was about to expose the truth. But Damian had finally had enough. “That’s enough,” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. “If you’re going to cause a scene, get out.” His eyes were downcast, not looking at anyone in particular, but I could feel his gaze fixed on me from the corner of his eye. He was warning me. But I had been sitting here quietly, having spoken only one sentence. Who was really causing the scene? A sharp pain lanced through my heart. It took all my strength to keep the tears from falling. Beneath the table, Anna squeezed my hand, whispering, “What’s the call? Do we go to war? I’ve got your back.” “This is why we married into the same family, right? To have a united front against evil mothers-in-law and useless husbands.” “I’m still a little scared of Damian, but for you, I’ll fight.” I gave a bitter smile and shook my head. It’s not worth it. I no longer had any hope for this family. Damian’s outburst silenced the table for a while. But it wasn’t long before Eleanor couldn’t help herself, her voice once again laced with condescension. “Some people just have no class.” “I always preferred Isabelle, of course, but your grandfather insisted on repaying your family’s debt. What could I do?” “I’m certain that if Isabelle had married into our family, she would never throw a jealous fit over something so baseless. She wouldn’t have caused such a humiliating scene.” “Phoebe, since you married up, you need to learn your place. In our circle, a man is never going to have just one woman. Even if the rumors were true, you’d be expected to tolerate it. Do you understand?” “You can’t have it all, dear.” Her tone was so high and mighty, as if my marriage into the Shin family was an act of her charity. Anna, with her explosive temper, had been simmering for a while. Her chair scraped against the floor as she shot up, ready to unleash a torrent of fury. But before she could speak, Caleb and I grabbed her wrists from either side, pulling her back down. I shook my head, too tired to even force a smile. There was no point in arguing anymore. If I still held any hope for this family, for Damian, maybe I would have fought back. But I was already determined to leave. Fighting with them now was utterly meaningless. 5 After dinner, Damian and I returned to our room. Since Isabelle’s return, he had often stayed out all night. Eventually, it became days at a time. We were a married couple, but thinking about it, other than being caught at the airport today, we hadn’t seen each other in nearly two weeks. Being alone with him in the same room now felt suffocating, filled with an awkward, unfamiliar tension. I couldn’t stand the oppressive atmosphere. I silently moved to walk past him toward the bathroom. Suddenly, his hand shot out, gripping my arm. His voice was heavy. “In the Shin family, there is no divorce. Only death.” “You are my wife. That is for life. You cannot run.” “I don’t want this to ever happen again. Do you understand?” His grip was painfully tight, as if he truly feared I would escape again, as if he could hold me here by force. But on what grounds? No divorce, only death. It was meant to be a vow of fidelity, but for me, those words had only ever been shackles. Had they ever constrained him? I curled my lip into a sarcastic smile. “In that case, if I insist on a divorce, will you die for me?” His brow furrowed. He didn’t answer my question, only said, “You know that’s not what I mean.” “Isabelle and I are in the past…” “Enough!” I cut him off, my face a cold mask. “I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t care about your past.” “Let’s just… go back to how things were before.” Without another look at him, I fled into the bathroom. The warm water cascaded over my body, bringing a sliver of clarity to my chaotic mind. His words had, in a way, given me an idea. Simply running away would always leave loose ends. But death wouldn’t. If the only way out was widowhood, then I would die for him to see.

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