Category: English

It had been three years since I walked away from Alma, and today, my father decided to mark the occasion by cooking her favorite meal: Wellington Steak. “Don’t start a fight with Max, now that he’s here, Ash.” Max Stone was the prized protégé—the scholarship student—my father loved like a son. Alma Vance was the girl I had loved for ten years. I sat in my wheelchair, silent. My father, Walter James, raised his voice, a desperate attempt to drown out his own guilt. “Max changing your college application was for your own good. But becoming a war correspondent? That was your choice. No one else is to blame for what happened.” I just offered a small, detached smile. “Right,” I said. “The past is over. But I still have to move forward, don’t I?” 1 My father was clearly unnerved that I hadn’t succumbed to the familiar, hysterical rage he expected. He pressed on, his voice a low warning. “Max and Alma are happily married. You are not going to be the wedge that breaks them apart. I won’t be embarrassed by my own son.” It was vintage Walter. Always siding with the outsider. Always treating his own flesh and blood like a potential adversary he needed to keep in check. Alma met me first. We were neighbors, the textbook definition of childhood sweethearts. We grew up hand-in-hand. I still remembered the exact spot under the blooming jacaranda tree where she’d kissed me and told me she loved me. She swore she’d marry me. But then my father, a high school guidance counselor, brought Max home. From that day forward, Max was everywhere—a permanent, uninvited fixture in the perfectly crafted world Alma and I shared. My father made sure of it. He’d insist I bring Max along to the library, to the mall, even to our quiet weekend trips. He even stood up as their wedding officiant. I tore open a bag of dill pickle chips, my gaze distant. “Dad, if you’re so worried about me, why did you pressure me to come back to Richmond to recover?” “You brat. You think you’re so grown up you can talk to me like that?” He raised his hand, the habitual gesture of violence he’d used for two decades, aiming for my forehead. I barely tilted my head, letting the air rush past. Then, the front door’s lock code beeped. Walter’s face instantly softened into a saccharine mask, and he rushed to greet them. 2 Max and Alma stepped inside, their fingers tightly laced. “Mr. James, I smell dinner already! I hope we aren’t too late to help.” Max’s voice was the perfect pitch of polite concern. “Nonsense, son, come in. I made Alma’s favorite Wellington Steak, and the smashed potato you love.” They finally noticed me in the living room. Max involuntarily flinched, pulling Alma back slightly, as if I were some creature he’d once thought extinct. My father glared at me, a sharp order to put on a polite face for his guests. I didn’t move. Alma’s eyes, however, immediately fixed on the thick, heavily bandaged cast on my leg. Her tone was tight with practiced care. “Ash. How is your injury? Are you healing well?” I gave a curt, formal nod. At the table, Walter strategically seated them both at the positions best for serving, then directed me. “Ash, get up and bring the lemonade from the fridge. Alma loves it.” Max shot me a look of feigned distress. “Mr. James, please, don’t bother him.” “Worried about his leg? Don’t be. It’s what he gets for running off to that godforsaken place. He brought this on himself.” “No, it’s not that,” Max rushed to correct him, a triumphant lilt in his voice. He gently placed his hand on Alma’s lower abdomen. “Alma can’t have anything cold, and she won’t be having any crab cakes tonight. We’re three months along.” My father was more excited than Max himself, bombarding Alma with attention and suggestions, practically insisting she move in to be closer for her prenatal care. “I still have Max’s old room here. Since Alma’s busy at the office, you should bring her over for lunch and a nap every day.” It was a small three-bedroom condo. The day Max moved in, my father, citing Max’s supposedly tough childhood, gave him the sunny master bedroom—the one that had always been mine. For four years of college, even when I came home, I stayed in the windowless den, while Max, attending a university locally, came and went as he pleased. When no one moved, Max cautiously addressed me. “Ash, you’re home for good this time, right? Mr. James pretends he doesn’t care, but he’s always looking at your photos on social media.” He paused, leaning into Alma. “I really envy you getting to photograph the scars of war in those Syrian ruins, chasing militants in the Libyan desert. Unlike me, I’m just Ah-Alma’s little house-husband. I feel so guilty that I can only be a pampered failure after all the special tutoring Mr. James and Alma gave me in high school!” 3 I used to be so easily provoked by Max’s particular brand of soft-spoken, self-effacing aggression. My father’s favor for him was a constant, sharp reminder that Walter had a capacity for gentleness and encouragement—a side he’d never once shown me. I’m severely allergic to onions. My father loves them. One summer, as a lesson in obedience, the menu consisted of only rice and various dishes cooked with onions. Even the normal meal had a few wedges tossed in. I was ten then. I was born to a single father and had never known my mother. Walter absolutely forbade me from ever speaking her name. The rule was simple: bring her up, and he’d hit me. So I learned to suffer my indignities in silence, only finding comfort in Alma. During that miserable summer, Alma’s parents were out of town. She’d sneak me out and her grandmother would make me comforting fried rice. I became her little beggar. Her pockets were always full of milk, strawberry shortcake, and candy bars, keeping me fed and sane. We made a pact: we would both go to Columbia, graduate, get married, and give her grandmother grandchildren. Then Max arrived. He was from a poor, rural town, and my father admired his grit. Walter canceled my art classes and extracurriculars, pouring all the savings into Max’s tutoring and tuition. I resented Max instantly—the way he played on my father’s sympathy. I refused to speak to him. Alma stroked my head and promised she would always be on my side. Until that day after school. She saw Max sitting alone on the bleachers, eating a cold slice of pizza and a can of cheap soup. Her expression was complicated: shock, followed by a heavy, self-righteous pity. Max was living with us, and my father was cooking him lavish meals. He wasn’t starving. Alma chose her words carefully, as if for my benefit. “Ash, don’t you think you’re being a little small-minded? Your dad is great to everyone but you. Maybe you should look at yourself?” Long years of my father’s verbal abuse had done their work. I actually paused to consider if I was the problem. Meanwhile, Alma began ditching me, claiming my father insisted she help Max study. She once canceled my birthday celebration because Max had never been to an amusement park. At the time, I was clueless, otherwise, I wouldn’t have spent four years in a long-distance relationship with her. The truth exploded on graduation day. I came back to Richmond early with my luggage and walked into Max’s sun-drenched room to find him and Alma, clothes slightly rumpled, tangled up on the bed. My entire world shattered. I cried all night, my faith—my foundation—gone. Alma had flown out to visit me countless times, vowing we’d be “graduates and spouses.” How had everything changed overnight? I screamed at them both, demanding Max leave. My father slapped me so hard my ears rang. He told me it was his house, and I had no right to tell anyone who could stay. In a white-hot rage, I broke up with Alma and applied to be a war correspondent overseas. My father didn’t even blame Max; he tried to legally adopt him. Only Max’s parents’ refusal stopped it. 4 I barely picked at my food, the taste like ash in my mouth. I wheeled myself back to the windowless den. Behind me, I heard my father’s familiar, angry rant and Max’s soft, almost inaudible words—the perfect, controlled amount of fuel for the fire. Alma eventually brought me a bowl of strawberries. I ignored her. “Ash, are you still mad at Max? If you don’t speak to him, you’ll just sit here and stew over it.” The old me would have screamed: Shouldn’t I be mad? He sabotaged my application, stole my girlfriend, and my father protected him, forbidding me from even calling the police. But it took a shrapnel wound and the smell of my own burnt flesh for the truth to finally sink in: when someone fundamentally doesn’t care about you, your words—your rage, your pain—they simply hit dead air. I was silent. Alma, mistaking my quiet for passive aggression, started to explain. “I always knew you picked Columbia because you wanted to escape your dad.” “Max just didn’t want to see you two completely estranged, so he… accidentally used your password and changed it.” Yes. His good intentions had rerouted me from a top-tier Economics program at Columbia to a niche journalism school two thousand miles away. Alma was still rambling. “Ash, even if we had both gotten into Columbia, I would have convinced you to change your major anyway.” I was tired of the noise. I looked at her, flatly. “Did you deliberately do poorly on your exams so you could stay here and be near Max?” Her voice snapped off, like a bird suddenly choked mid-song. She had no idea how I knew that. She’d never truly understood how calculating Max was beneath his facade of an innocent, sweet boy. After graduation, when he no longer needed my father’s tuition money, Max had sent me a barrage of texts. He detailed how he and Alma had secretly gone to the amusement park and the cinema we were supposed to go to, and how she used the hotel curtains as an excuse whenever I called her while she was on weekend trips with him. 5 I spent years after the betrayal drowning in the pain of being abandoned by three people at once. I used the raw reality of the war zone as my personal rehab. I slapped myself. I used a utility knife to cut myself. My entire life, my father had used emotional oppression, then used his status as a “hard-working single dad” to guilt and control me. Max made it clear I was unloved by everyone, including my only parent. He told me Alma leaving me was the right choice. He even said someone like me didn’t deserve to live. My father’s texts were just as brutal, saying he’d wasted twenty years raising me. That I wasn’t running to NYC, but running away from a minor disagreement. Alma had sent only three words: I am sorry. I didn’t want to hear them. I just kept running, using the sheer terror of facing death, the empathy for the displaced refugees, to bury the pain. I almost died several times. The last time was the worst. If someone hadn’t pulled strings at the embassy, I would have died there, unknown. I glanced at my phone. A flicker of complex emotion crossed my face. A text message waited for me. “Ash, is the paperwork done? I can have the chopper ready.” I politely typed a reply. “Three more days, Mom.” 6 Under my father’s suffocating control, I never imagined my mother was a real person. I certainly never imagined the Sterling family, the dynasty she belonged to, held such immense power in the NYC financial world. She didn’t know I existed in this quiet corner of the country. My father had kept my birth a secret. Fate, however, has a sick sense of humor. The Sterling family saw me—Ash James, the driven, exhausted war correspondent—on a news report. The resemblance between me and my aunt, my mother’s younger sister, was unmistakable. When they learned my name was James, my mother, Eloise Sterling, felt a chill. Two decades ago, when my father was a handsome, ambitious university student, he and Eloise had a brief, cross-class romance. The Sterlings valued bloodline above all else. When Eloise heard that I’d been severely injured while saving a small boy in a chaotic war zone and was clinging to life, she acted immediately. She contacted the embassy and used a military-grade transport to have me repatriated. Everything else fell into place. The DNA results confirmed it that very day. I was her son. 7 I hadn’t told my father about my mother. He would never have been able to handle it. As a child, when I was foolish enough to ask about her, I was met with hard slaps and days locked in my room without food. Once, when he was drunk, he grabbed my wrist, his eyes so full of malice he looked like he might eat me whole. “Why was I so blind as to have a lowlife like you!” he had hissed. “I should carve those eyes out, so I don’t have to look at them anymore!” That vile mantra haunted me for years. I learned to keep my head down and never mention my mother. It was only after meeting her that I understood the root of all my misery: I looked too much like a Sterling, especially my eyes. My leg injury was severe. Eloise had to pull a lot of strings to get me in with Dr. Alistair Smith, the renowned orthopedic surgeon. I had to wait a month for his schedule. I suggested returning to Richmond first. My father, having only seen the news of my injury, simply called me ungrateful, saying I went off to die in such a distant place just to spite him and burden him with the cost of a coffin. I knew if I didn’t come back, he would cause a scene at my unit, demanding my supervisors be held accountable. I was here to quit my job and finalize my paperwork—to formally move my residency. My leg would require extensive treatment in NYC. When Eloise learned my application had been changed, robbing me of my preferred major, she promised to help me finish my degree. I refused to let false sentimentality stop me. Having almost died, I finally understood: following your own heart is more important than anything else. 8 I needed to leave early for a follow-up appointment. My father made no move to help me to the car. “Your leg is a write-off,” he said with contemptuous certainty. “No doctor can fix this. You need to accept it.” “The unit will fire you now. I don’t raise trash. You listen to me from now on, and maybe I’ll see about getting the school to let you process files.” He taught at a private high school. He’d never lifted a finger to help me before, saving all his influence for Max, even accepting bribes from parents on Max’s behalf. I swallowed the pain radiating up my leg, the bite of ten thousand ants. “What if there’s a great surgeon in New York who can fix my leg?” I asked. His face contorted. “I’m the only parent you have. As long as I’m alive, you will not set foot in New York City.” “Even if I have to be in a wheelchair forever?” “Yes.” He spat the word out, as if I had committed the ultimate transgression. I knew he would react this way. But the sting still landed. Nothing—not my future, not my injury—mattered more than his control. 9 Getting around with a severe leg injury was a nightmare. I paid the cab driver triple the fare. He stopped his grumbling long enough to help me into the car and fold the wheelchair into the trunk. “Looks like a bad one, son. Blood is already seeping through the bandage. Why didn’t you bring a family member?” I stayed silent. The driver glanced into the rearview mirror, shaking his head. “No folks, huh? Rough luck.” He helped me out, pulled out my wheelchair, and even gave me a bottle of water. I wheeled myself down a hospital corridor. Alma was there, peeling an orange for Max, who sat next to her. Her eyes were only for him. She didn’t even notice me in the wheelchair a few yards away. My father hurried over from the billing counter, showering Max with concerned questions, promising to make him his favorite Coke Chicken Wings for lunch. It was a scene of domestic bliss, as if Max were the son he’d always wanted. “Mr. James, you treat me better than my own father.” “You worked so hard to climb out of that small town, son. If I don’t look out for you, who will?” Watching my father and Max together, I suddenly felt a profound, absurd sense of clarity. They were the true father and son. I smiled, a real smile. Letting go, I realized, wasn’t nearly as hard as I’d been conditioned to believe. 10 I turned my chair toward the elevator. My father’s smile froze. “Don’t you see your elders? You can’t even say hello? What kind of manners are those?” I ignored him. Max tugged on my father’s arm. “Mr. James, don’t be angry. It’s my fault. I forgot Alma had a day off, so you had to come with us. Ash must have misunderstood—” My father’s face darkened, his voice immediately hardening toward me. “Ash James, stop throwing a fit! I purposefully didn’t come with you to the appointment.” “Your leg is broken. You might never walk again. You need to learn to be independent now. You can’t expect people to wait on you for the rest of your life!” Alma stepped in, the eternal peacemaker. “Uncle Walter, please don’t be angry. Ash just got back from the war zone; he needs time to adjust.” Watching her comfortably soothe my father, I felt a familiar, sickening combination of absurdity and irony. Max let go of my father’s hand, his voice trembling with manufactured distress. “Alma, it’s my fault—” “It is not your fault!” My father cut him off, turning to glare at me. “Look at you! You’ve made Max cry! Now go home! Don’t embarrass me here!” I let out a cold laugh, meeting his gaze directly. “This hospital isn’t yours. You have no authority to kick me out.” My defiance was a match to his fuse. Perhaps it was the utter lack of fear in my eyes. He froze, then his face exploded in rage. He stepped forward and delivered a hard, stinging slap across my face. “What? You think just because you’re crippled you can disrespect me? What good are you, you useless burden, except to embarrass me?” “You had to be a war correspondent, and now look at you—you’re nothing but a cripple! You brought this on yourself!” He loomed over me, his gaze dropping to my trembling, injured legs. His voice was pure venom. “Limping trash. Get used to dragging yourself through life. Throw a fit again, and I’ll throw you out on the street to beg like a stray dog.” I was numb. Completely, beautifully numb. I didn’t speak again. I just looked at him, one long, deep stare, before turning my chair and rolling out of the hospital. 11 Alma caught up with me as I struggled to flag down a cab, sweat stinging my eyes. Seeing my difficulty, she looked frustrated, rushing to justify her father-in-law. “Ash, don’t blame Uncle Walter. You left without a word, didn’t come back for the holidays… he truly cares about you.” I smiled, a purely cynical twist of my lips. “My home has been redecorated to Max’s taste. My small room is stacked with his old clothes and shoes. Do you really believe my father misses me? Doesn’t your conscience bother you?” She lowered her eyes, a flush of shame creeping up her neck. “Max’s family is poor. He had no one in Richmond. Uncle Walter treats him like a son.” She was pleading now. “I never meant to betray you. Your dad insisted I look after him.” Listening to her frantic self-exoneration, I spoke quietly. “So, you and Max sleeping together in your bed—that was my dad’s doing, too?” She flinched. “No! It wasn’t like that! I had too much wine that night, and Max had just confessed his feelings to me for the twenty-ninth time. I lost control in the moment…” I turned to stare out the window. When I was planning our wedding, her heart had already chosen another man. When I remained silent, her voice became a whisper. “Can’t we just call a truce, Ash? Forget the past? You’ll need a lot of support and care. There’s no reason to hold onto your dad’s and Max’s small mistakes.” I scoffed. “Is that a threat?” “Of course not!” she insisted, then the true motive slid out. “It’s just… you’re in no shape to work right now. And Max is very interested in your unit. We were hoping you could put in a good word with your supervisor.” “Your father agrees. He thinks the unit is partly responsible for your injury, and this is your chance to demand compensation for Max.” They were planning to drain me dry. I immediately ordered the driver to stop, dumping Alma on the roadside. I then changed the cab’s destination to my office, where I filed my resignation. 12 Back home, I started clearing out my belongings. My primary goal was to get rid of the gifts Alma had given me. We had loved each other once. It was a truth that filled a large, heavy box. For four years, she’d chased me down, traveling thousands of miles by train, accompanying me to dive bars, dragging me to cheap movie theaters where we’d fall asleep on the couches. She sent me postcards from every city. She never missed a birthday, always with a small, handmade gift. I lived in a warm, deluded bubble, convinced we would go from the college library to old age together. Then I realized that Max had been with her through most of those trips. Including the pair of small, hand-painted clay figurines she’d sworn were made just for me. One of the figures bore the clear imprint of a man’s thumbprint—Max’s, he’d later gleefully confessed. When I’d initially confronted her, she lied, blaming the shop owner and buying me a replacement set of coffee mugs. It was hard to reconcile how Alma could whisper sweet things to me while secretly flirting with and caring for another man. Betrayal taught me the harshest lesson of love: some people enter your life only to teach you that love is just a temporary port, never a final harbor. 13 When I wheeled a large, empty box back into the house, my father scowled. “You’re a wreck. Instead of trying to mend things with Alma and Max, you’re throwing a tantrum. Are you planning to sell scrap metal, or do you expect me to support you forever?” His contempt was heavy. He already saw my life as a complete failure. He then began pressuring me to get Max a job at my coveted broadcasting unit, suggesting that Max’s future children might even take care of me someday. I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Is the pie Max is baking you that sweet, Dad?” “In college, his mind wasn’t on his studies. It was on charming you with homemade bread and getting side jobs to buy Alma gifts. He scraped into a mediocre university, begged you for tuition money, then blew it. After college, he quit the low-paying substitute teacher job you found him, and Alma’s been bankrolling him ever since.” “Now, he wants my connections to get into the best radio station in Richmond.” “So, all the good fortune in the world has to go to Max? Everyone else is just a stepping stone for him?” My father stared at me, his eyes blazing. “Max saved my life! You compensating him is the least you can do.” I shot back: “If Max hadn’t been so far behind, and his parents weren’t forcing him to quit high school, would you have even driven out to his village, where you conveniently fell into the water and were rescued by him?” “No matter what, he saved my life! I could sign the house over to him, and it still wouldn’t be enough.” My father had said that before. The house was his most valuable asset, his constant leverage. He’d only paid for my first year of college, using Max’s expensive community college fees as an excuse to cut me off. But this time, my expression was completely neutral. “Do what you want.” “Ash James, you’ll regret this!” “Dad, Max has two younger brothers back home. Whether he’s manipulating you or you’re blind, once you give everything away, don’t look to me for help in your old age.” “Pah! A useless burden like you? I’d be lucky if you don’t leech off me first.” 14 The day I was scheduled to leave, a knock came early. I assumed it was my mother’s transport and grabbed my small suitcase. It was Alma. She was breathless, carrying a large cardboard box. “Ash, is this true? I saw this by the dumpster last night! Why did you throw away everything I gave you?” “I tried to find you yesterday, but you blocked my number, and Max wasn’t feeling well.” I glanced at my watch, utterly unconcerned. “Trash belongs in the bin. There is no other reason.” “Do you have to be so cruel?” She pulled out a thick stack of train tickets—the proof of her journeys to see me—and the two clay figurines. “And these! I made them just for you.” Her voice caught, her eyes red-rimmed. It wasn’t just me who loved then. I couldn’t resist twisting the knife one last time. “What did you expect? You slept with my father’s favorite student. Should I have kept them so my dad could constantly accuse me of lusting after another man’s wife?” “But you can’t throw them all away! They’re the evidence that we loved each other.” I looked at her, deadpan. “The moment you chose Max, they became meaningless.” Alma opened her mouth to argue, but the front door opened, and a woman in a perfectly tailored business suit stepped inside.

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1 I had one month left to live when my brother threw me out of the house. I found an old video camera, wanting to record one last message for myself. “Holly, in your next life, don’t be born into this family again. It’s not a role you can bear.” But the moment I turned it on, it started playing a video automatically. My brother was smiling, holding the camera. “I swear,” his younger voice said, “I promised Mom I would protect my sister with my life. I’ll never let anyone hurt her.” I froze, a tear tracing a path down my cheek. “But… I don’t want to be your sister anymore,” I whispered. To my shock, the boy in the video suddenly stared straight at me, his expression defiant. “Who are you? What gives you the right to say that?” … I stood stunned, watching as the little figure on the screen looked around the room in the video. “Who’s talking? Is that my sister?” In the video, my mother gently touched my brother’s head, her face full of loving confusion. “Owen, honey, it’s just us in the living room. You must have misheard.” Seeing the warm, kind woman on the screen, my tears began to flow freely. My mother died in childbirth when I was born. I had never met her. And my brother, Owen, had become the person who hated me most in the world. Young Owen looked bewildered, waving his hand dismissively. “I guess I heard wrong. I thought I heard… I thought I heard my sister say she didn’t want to be my sister.” His expression was a mixture of hurt and confusion, and he looked down at his mother’s pregnant belly, his eyes welling up. “How could that be possible?” she soothed. “Owen is the best big brother in the world. Your sister will be so excited to meet you.” Watching this scene, a bitter smile touched my lips. Owen really was the best brother in the world. But he wasn’t my brother anymore. In the camera’s memory, young Owen nodded, his face breaking into a grin. “I can’t wait to meet her, either. I bet she’ll be really cute.” A tightness gripped my chest. I turned the camera off, the idea of recording anything forgotten. Staring into the darkness of my tiny rental room, I took a deep breath and forced myself to my feet to open the curtains. Every step sent a jolt of pain through my torso, as if my organs were being twisted into knots. When I finally pulled the curtains back, the first rays of morning light streamed in, illuminating my reflection in the glass. I had wasted away to just seventy-four pounds. My body was little more than a skeleton, my cheekbones jutting out sharply over a gaunt face. Only my eyes seemed alive, large and dark in their hollowed sockets. Even I was frightened by my own appearance. I quickly grabbed a hat and a mask, pulling them on. My body felt lost inside my baggy clothes, almost swaying with the motion. Holly, your life is anything but holy. I laughed at the cruel irony and picked up my phone. The screen saver was a photo of Owen and me. And another girl… the sister whose hand he was holding. I was standing off to the side, clutching a ragged doll, too afraid to step closer. It was the only picture I had with him. The other girl in the photo, Ivy, was the one who was truly his sister. She was beautiful and sweet, everything he imagined a sister should be, and he gave her the world. I was four years old the day Ivy was brought home. I was crouching in a corner, playing with the ragged doll Owen had tossed to me once, and I stood up when he walked in, holding Ivy’s hand. “You’re scaring Ivy,” he said, shielding her behind him before turning his cold eyes on me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Ivy peeked out from behind him, her wide eyes fixed on me. “Brother, is she your sister, too?” “No. I only have one sister, and that’s you.” Owen smiled, ruffling Ivy’s hair. My own eyes went wide. I asked him, “Then, brother… what am I?” If Ivy is your only sister, then what am I? “You’re just someone living in our house,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “When Ivy turns eighteen, we’ll send you away.” Then he turned and left with Ivy, without giving me so much as a second glance. 2 My phone buzzed, shattering the silence. The caller ID read: Owen. My hand tightened around the phone. After a moment of hesitation, I answered. “Hello?” I heard a cold chuckle on the other end. “Did you call me just to laugh at me?” I asked, my voice tight. “Just checking to see if you’re dead yet,” Owen said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. It was a universe away from the bright-eyed boy in the video who had sworn to protect his sister forever. There was no trace of him left. “Sorry to disappoint you. But it won’t be long now,” I replied, my own voice just as flat, without a hint of inflection. He didn’t know. I really was dying. “Ha.” I heard him laugh again. “Then I’ll be waiting with bated breath. I’m curious to see how you’ll apologize to Mom when you get to the other side.” My grip on the phone tightened. “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” The sunlight felt warm on my skin, the only source of warmth in the freezing room. Last night, the pain had been so intense it felt like my body was being ripped apart, and I hadn’t slept at all. The air was so cold I could see my own breath. All I wanted was to sleep. Preferably, a sleep I would never wake up from. “Ivy’s eighteenth birthday party is tomorrow. She wants you to be there. If you promise not to cause any trouble, you can stay until after the party. You brought this on yourself.” “I’ll have someone pick you up tomorrow. You have to be there.” With that, he hung up. I listened to the dial tone drone on. I tossed the phone aside. He was right. I could have stayed until after Ivy’s party. But Ivy couldn’t wait. Yesterday, I had found her scratching our mother’s photograph. That was my mother. The only mother I had, the one I could only speak to through that faded picture. Though I was weak and gaunt, I used every last bit of my strength to slap Ivy across the face. In return, my brother threw me out, along with my ragged doll. His strength was terrifying. I hit the ground so hard I felt like my bones were going to shatter, the splinters threatening to pierce my lungs. For a moment, I couldn’t tell what hurt more: the fall or the disease ravaging my insides. “Holly, you’re asking for it,” Owen had snarled. “Get out. And don’t let my sister see your face again.” Owen, didn’t you tell me to get lost? I turned on the camera again. Inside, young Owen was folding paper cranes. The clock on his desk showed it was three in the morning, but he just rubbed his eyes and kept going. “My sister will be born soon,” he muttered to himself with a smile. “I have to hurry and make a thousand of these. Then she’ll be safe and happy her whole life.” I stared at the screen, and as if speaking to him, or maybe to myself, I said, “Stop folding.” Your sister won’t be safe and happy. She’s going to die before she even turns eighteen. Young Owen looked up again, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “You again. Who are you? Why do you keep trying to ruin things between me and my sister?” I paused, listening as his indignant voice filled the silence. “This morning you said she didn’t want to be my sister, and now you’re telling me not to pray for her well-being. Who are you?” 3 “I’m from eighteen years in the future,” I told the boy on the screen. His eyes lit up. He sat up straight, facing the camera—facing me. “Eighteen years! Then my sister has been born by now! Is she doing okay? Are we close? I bet I spoil her like a princess! After all, I’m the best brother in the world.” He puffed out his chest with absolute confidence. “She’s not doing well at all,” I said flatly. My whole body ached. The bruises from being thrown out were turning a deep, ugly purple. Even my organs hurt. And it was all thanks to the very same brother who had once sworn to protect me. Owen faltered. “Am I dead? Did I fail to take care of her? Oh, no… you’re lying, aren’t you!” “You’re alive and well. And you will be for a long time. Just… don’t let your sister be born. She’ll only suffer.” I said it quickly and shut the camera off, but not before I heard his desperate shout. “Who are you? Why should I believe you? How could I possibly let my sister be unhappy? You must be lying to me!” Five-year-old Owen would never believe he could be cruel to his sister. Even I wouldn’t have believed it. My brother once promised to protect me. How laughable. The next day, I went to a pharmacy. I emptied a pocketful of crumpled bills and loose change onto the counter to buy some painkillers. “Miss, this isn’t enough,” the pharmacist said with a frown. “Go on, now. Don’t cause trouble.” “Please, sir,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Can I just have a few pills? This is all the money I have. Just a few will do.” I was so desperate I was close to getting on my knees. The pain was unbearable, like a thousand knives stabbing me from the inside out, making every breath an agony. “I can’t just break open a bottle for you. There’s nothing I can do, miss. Please leave, you’re bothering my customers. It’s bad enough having someone like you as my first sale of the day. You’re a jinx.” He waved his hand at me dismissively, his face a mask of disgust. “Go on, get out of here.” “Give her a bottle. Keep the change.” A hand with long, elegant fingers placed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. My first instinct was to run. “Don’t you want your medicine?” Owen’s cool voice came from behind me. He dangled the bottle of painkillers in his hand. “After all, I’m the one who threw you on the ground. I suppose I should take some responsibility.” “If that’s the case, you have a lifetime of things to take responsibility for,” I said, looking at him. Only my eyes were visible, the rest of my face and body hidden. I didn’t want him to see me like this, looking like I was at death’s door. Owen smirked. “Still got that sharp tongue. Today is Ivy’s birthday. The driver went to pick you up, but you weren’t there. I never expected to run into you while I was out arranging her custom cake and party dress.” “Can’t even scrape together a hundred dollars. Holly, you really are pathetic.” “Thrown out by my own brother, replaced by an adopted sister, bullied for years until my reputation is in tatters… I was already pathetic enough.” Words like that didn’t even faze me anymore. I spoke of my short, tragic life as casually as if I were commenting on the weather. A shadow crossed Owen’s face. “You failed our mother. You deserve everything you get.” I didn’t answer. I twisted the cap off the bottle of painkillers and poured a handful into my mouth, chewing them like candy. Owen stared, a look of disgust on his face. “Anyone watching would think you were about to die from the pain.” “You guessed right,” I said, a miserable smile hidden behind my mask. He grabbed my arm to pull me towards his car. “You’re coming to the party. Ivy said she wants you there, which means I have to bring you.” The moment his fingers closed around my wrist, he flinched. “Are you starving yourself to death?” “Losing weight.” “You’d be ugly either way,” he sneered, before shoving me into the car. The car sped away.

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After my adoptive sister died, my brother became the person who hated me most in the world. A hatred so venomous he sent me to a Las Vegas casino, to be auctioned off for men’s amusement. I begged him for mercy, but his eyes held nothing but contempt. “If it weren’t for the kidney transplant you needed, Zoe would never have died on that operating table! You killed her. Now you’ll spend your life atoning for it.” But when the casino was attacked by terrorists, he shielded me without hesitation, his body taking every bullet meant for me. He coughed blood next to my ear, his last words a ragged whisper. “If there’s a next life, I’d rather never have had you as a sister. Zoe was all I ever needed.” I took my own life then, and woke up five years in the past. This time, brother, I don’t want the kidney. And I don’t want your love. I only want to grant your wish. To let you have only one sister. … “Aria, for a single piece of candy, you held Zoe’s hand in boiling water? She saved your life! How could I have such a vile, ungrateful sister?” The familiar voice echoed in my ears. I slowly opened my eyes, stunned by the scene before me. This was five years ago. The day I burned Zoe’s hand. I was truly reborn. The brother standing before me had no blood on his lips, no bullet holes in his chest. He was whole. He was healthy. A lump formed in my throat. I fought back a tidal wave of emotion and spoke, my voice hoarse. “I’m sorry, Caden. I shouldn’t have burned Zoe’s hand.” Caden froze, taken aback. I looked at him and gave a bitter smile. The candy… it was the one he’d pressed into my palm on the day our parents died in a car crash, his own eyes red-rimmed as he tried to comfort me. “Don’t cry, Aria. Big brother’s here. I’ll take care of you from now on.” He was just a teenager then, the weight of the world suddenly crashing down on his shoulders, with a younger sister to raise. It was only natural that he’d forgotten. I shouldn’t have held onto it so tightly. Swallowing the sob caught in my throat, I turned to Zoe, who was lying in the hospital bed, and gave her a deep bow. “I’m sorry. I won’t fight with you over Caden anymore.” Zoe stared, her eyes slowly welling with tears as she prepared for another performance. “Aria, I didn’t mean to step on your candy, please don’t be—” I said nothing. I simply turned, picked up the kettle of freshly boiled water from the bedside table, and without a flicker of hesitation, poured it over my own right arm. A searing agony exploded across my skin. Cold sweat drenched my back in an instant, and my breath hitched with the sheer force of the pain. “Is this… enough?” They were both completely stunned by my sudden, drastic change in behavior. Caden was the first to react, grabbing my wrist and roaring, “Aria, are you insane?!” Before I could answer, he spun towards his assistant standing by the door. “What are you waiting for? Get a doctor!” A sliver of warmth pierced through the pain in my heart. I looked at him, a sense of bittersweet relief washing over me. At this point in time, he still cared. He could still feel something for me. His eyes weren’t just filled with the cold, dead hatred of the future. It was nice. Even if that love would ultimately belong to someone else, I cherished the warmth of his hand on my wrist. But before I could speak, Zoe’s tearful voice cut through the moment. She tugged on Caden’s sleeve. “Caden, I know Aria just wants all your attention, but she shouldn’t have to resort to self-harm to get it.” Then she turned her tear-streaked face to me. “Aria, you and Caden are the real siblings here. I’m the outsider. Please, don’t hurt yourself like this, okay?” Her words were a bucket of ice water. Caden’s expression hardened, the flicker of concern vanishing. I closed my mouth, abandoning the explanation I was about to give. A moment later, his voice came, cold and sharp. “And here I was, actually entertaining a sliver of hope for you. How foolish. With a nature this rotten, are you even my sister?” The words were cruel, but compared to what he would say to me in the future, they were nothing. I lowered my head obediently. “Whatever you say, Caden.” “You…!” He was speechless with fury, pointing a trembling finger at me before turning to his assistant. “Get her wound treated. And keep her out of Zoe’s sight. She’s an eyesore.” I nodded and quietly left the room. But I didn’t go to get my arm bandaged. From the moment I woke up in this timeline, a familiar, sharp pain had begun to spread from my kidneys, radiating through every nerve ending in my body. The agony was so intense I could barely stand. That’s right. In my past life, this was the day I was diagnosed with kidney failure. Without a transplant, I had less than two weeks to live. I had always been sickly, and my rare blood type meant every illness was a brush with death. During one surgery, I started hemorrhaging, and the hospital’s blood bank ran low. Caden, frantic, had searched the entire city and finally found an orphan with a matching blood type: Zoe. Her blood saved my life. And just like that, she went from a penniless orphan to the adopted daughter of the city’s wealthiest family. But after that day, Caden changed. The constant warmth and affection he’d shown me vanished. If Zoe and I were both hurt, he wouldn’t even glance my way. He would leave me on the ground and scoop up Zoe—even if her injuries were minor—and rush her to the hospital. I became crazed, jealous, hateful. I targeted Zoe relentlessly. A sweet, innocent victim versus a vicious, unstable sister. It was obvious who he would choose. But even through all my tantrums and schemes, a part of me believed that deep down, Caden loved me most. I told myself he was only nice to Zoe because she had saved my life. I was wrong. So terribly, tragically wrong. In my last life, after my diagnosis, Zoe died on the operating table during the kidney transplant. I survived, a miracle. But from that day forward, I became the object of Caden’s deepest loathing. He hurled the most vicious words imaginable at me, as if we weren’t siblings, but mortal enemies with a blood feud between us. This time, I don’t want it to end like that. I would rather be the one to die. The northern winters were brutal. The wind carried shards of ice that felt like razor blades against my face. The dull ache in my kidneys and the sharp sting in my arm intertwined, making every breath a luxury. I hunched over, wrapping my coat tighter as I walked aimlessly down the street. I had been greedy, just for a moment. I was reborn to grant Caden’s wish, to let him have only Zoe as his sister. I needed to disappear. A car horn blared beside me. The window rolled down, revealing Caden’s cold, handsome face. “Get in.” I started to refuse, but his bodyguards were already there, pushing me into the back seat. The heat inside the car was blasting, but a chill still clung to my bones. To avoid any questions, I pressed myself against the window, watching the city blur past. “Why didn’t you get your arm treated? What new game are you playing now?” His voice was like ice. “When the self-pity act failed, you decided to try running away?” I was silent for a moment, then turned to face him, my expression calm. “I’m serious, Caden. You don’t have to feel torn because of me anymore. I’m going to move out. I’ll stay far away from both of you.” He let out a short, derisive laugh. “Move out? Aria, what do you have that this family didn’t give you? Without us, you’re useless. How long do you think you’d last?” Not long at all, I thought. I lowered my eyes. “However long I last, that’s my business. I was immature before. I thought if I fought and screamed, I could make you look at me. I understand now. Some things just aren’t mine for the taking. Zoe saved my life. You should care for her. I… I shouldn’t stand in the way.” His sharp gaze scanned my face, searching for a crack in my composure, a hint of deceit. But all he found was a field of cold ashes. The fire of jealousy and resentment that had once burned so fiercely for him, along with all the love and dependence, seemed to have been extinguished completely. This unfamiliar serenity seemed to agitate him even more. “You think saying that will make me feel sorry for you? Make me think you’ve matured? I’ve had enough of your games, Aria!” “I’m not playing games, Caden,” I said, my voice soft with a weariness that went bone-deep. “I’m just… tired. I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want…” I don’t want to face our parents in the afterlife with your hatred weighing me down. The car passed through the grand gates of our family estate. I got out and went straight to my room in a far corner of the mansion. It was large and luxurious, but it felt cold and lifeless, like a gilded cage. I started packing, taking only a few changes of clothes, some cash, and an old photo album our parents had left behind—one Caden had likely long forgotten. Just as I zipped up the old backpack, the door swung open. Zoe stood there, leaning against the frame. Her left wrist was wrapped in a fresh bandage, her face pale, but her eyes held the subtle, triumphant gleam of a victor. “Are you really leaving, Aria?” she asked, her voice syrupy sweet. “Is it because of what Caden said? Don’t blame him. He’s just worried about me. Even though you’re his real sister, he trusts me more, you know.” I watched her performance, my heart a placid lake. In my past life, her words would have been a dagger to my soul, provoking me into a fight that Caden would inevitably punish me for. But now, I just wanted to be gone. “Move,” I said. Zoe took a step forward, blocking my path. Her voice dropped to a whisper only I could hear. “Face it, Aria. In this house, Caden only has room in his heart for me. You’re a joke. The sooner you get lost, the better for everyone.” I ignored her taunt and tried to sidle past. Suddenly, Zoe let out a sharp cry. From somewhere, she produced a small fruit knife. In a flash, she dragged the blade across her own left forearm, a deep, deliberate cut. Beads of blood welled up instantly. “Aria! What are you doing?!” she shrieked, stumbling backward, her face a mask of terror and disbelief. “I already apologized to you! Why are you still trying to hurt me?” Rapid footsteps echoed in the hall, and Caden appeared in the doorway, his face a thundercloud. He saw the blood on Zoe’s arm. He saw me standing before her with my backpack. He saw the fruit knife on the floor between us. The air froze. He didn’t even ask. A storm of rage erupted in his eyes, and he raised his hand, striking me across the face with brutal force. The world went silent. The burn on my arm, the ache in my kidneys—it all vanished. There was only the fire on my cheek. It was the first time in two lifetimes he had ever laid a hand on me. It hurt more than all my other injuries combined. Even at his most hateful in our past life, he had never hit me. He really did love his new sister. The thought was strangely liberating. “A-ri-a!” Caden himself seemed stunned, his hand trembling as he forced my name through his clenched teeth. “For a single, insane moment back there, I actually thought you might have changed! How stupid I am! A dog always returns to its vomit! How black is your heart? What has Zoe ever done to you that you have to hurt her like this, again and again? She is the reason you’re alive!” The familiar accusations, the soul-crushing words, were like poisoned icicles piercing the softest parts of my heart. I had braced myself, told myself to be numb, but hearing that venom in his voice still sent a sharp, twisting pain through my chest. My vision swam. I looked at his handsome face, contorted with rage. I looked at Zoe, hiding behind him, weeping, shooting me a triumphant glance. The whole scene felt absurd. Pathetic. An explanation? He wouldn’t believe it. In his mind, I was already a monster. So be it. I took a deep breath, swallowing the taste of blood and the burn of unshed tears. I wrenched my arm from his grip. Then, I bent down and picked up the small knife from the floor, still slick with Zoe’s blood. Caden’s eyes narrowed. “What do you think you’re doing now?” I pushed the handle of the knife into his hand, forcing his fingers to close around it. The cold metal pressed against his palm, reflecting my own deathly pale face. I took a step forward, my chest almost touching his. I tilted my head back to look into his furious eyes. My voice was a faint, trembling whisper, like a dry leaf about to be carried away by the wind. “Brother, if you hate me this much… if you think I hurt your precious Zoe… then why don’t you get justice for her yourself?” And before the shock in his eyes could register, I threw my entire body forward.

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I am the female lead’s best friend. In the original ending, the female lead paired me off with the wealthy second male lead, Ethan Cole. Ethan said, “If Chloe wants me to marry you, then I will grant her wish.” “But when Chloe changes her mind, we will divorce.” I swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue. I didn’t tell him that I had actually been secretly in love with him for many years. Nor did I tell him that the second male lead can ascend to the main role. We lived a lifetime of respectful distance. But unexpectedly. Long after the original ending, the female lead truly regretted her choice. She came back to Ethan: “I got divorced. Will you marry me?” 1 When I awakened, the story was nearing its end. Chloe Vance, the adopted daughter of the wealthy Vance family, overcame all odds to marry the auto mechanic, Liam Ryder. At the same time, the Vance family discovered Ethan Cole’s feelings for Chloe and urged him to find someone to marry immediately. So, Chloe introduced Ethan to me. She told me, “Don’t look at how fierce my brother seems; he’s actually very kind.” Chloe arranged for us to go to an amusement park, then found an excuse to run off. Before leaving, she mischievously pushed me forward. The moment I almost bumped into Ethan, he took a step back. I nearly fell. The moment Chloe disappeared. Ethan’s gentle smile vanished instantly. His rimless glasses reflected his cold expression. To be fair, he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. Refined, stoic, very “Daddy.” Unfortunately, Ethan and I were not a match. I was the plain female supporting character meant to highlight the female lead, while he was the wealthy, handsome second male lead with perfect specs. Everything about him was top-tier. Facing him, I didn’t even have the courage to confess. But I didn’t expect Ethan to nod. Without even looking at me, he said calmly, “Miss Summers, I can marry you.” I froze in place, my heart racing. I knew it was impossible. But people are always dazzled by meager hope. Fortunately, he quickly cleared up my confusion— “To me, if it’s not Chloe, it doesn’t matter who I marry.” “Since she wants me to marry you, then I will grant her wish.” Wow. So deeply affectionate. 2 When Ethan and I walked out of the amusement park, Chloe was still at the entrance. Seeing us finish so quickly, a trace of expected surprise flashed in her eyes. Ethan’s eyes lit up too. Chloe’s gaze went back and forth between Ethan and me several times. Then, she playfully punched Ethan’s chest with a bit of complaint. Her tone was complaining but coquettish. “Brother!” “Why didn’t you have fun with Sarah?” “She’s my best friend! Don’t tell me you don’t like her!” The light and shadow in Ethan’s eyes flickered, finally returning to dimness as he said: “I didn’t.” “I proposed to Sarah Summers, and she agreed.” Chloe was stunned. 3 Logically speaking, I shouldn’t have agreed. Anyone with eyes could see that Ethan only had eyes for Chloe. But I had just received a call from my parents urging me to marry last night. And this morning, I received a layoff notice. Average education, average job, average family background. If it weren’t for the Vance family urging marriage, and Chloe not wanting the “fertile water to flow into others’ fields,” I wouldn’t even be qualified to go on a blind date with Ethan. Let alone become Mrs. Cole. I am a vulgar person. Thinking that without love, marrying for money is also good. And, what if? Anyway, the female lead and the second male lead are destined not to be together. Just like that, life fast-forwarded to the day I married Ethan. From the moment the wedding invitations were sent out. My life welcomed its highlight moment. Relatives and friends came to visit, smiling fawningly. I suddenly became the proudest daughter in my parents’ mouths. My in-laws gave me a red envelope with a million dollars the first time they met me. Chloe looked at the pigeon-egg-sized diamond ring on my finger, bit her lip, and said: “Sarah, how could you pick such an expensive diamond ring?” “After all, it’s my brother’s money, not earned by yourself…” But her wedding ring was also bought by Liam. The difference was mine cost twenty million, hers two thousand. I didn’t mind her bossing me around. After all, if she was unhappy with me, Ethan might call off the wedding on the spot. I smiled bitterly and said, “Chloe, your brother married me just for show. The person he truly likes is still you.” “I envy you marrying for love, while I only have cold money.” The corner of Chloe’s eyes showed窃喜 (secret delight). “Sarah, you absolutely must not say that!” “I will absolutely never like my brother!” Ethan happened to hear that sentence when he arrived. The sorrow in his eyes was hard to dissolve. With a bit of spite, he took my hand: “Let’s go, Mom and Dad are waiting for us.” That day. Ethan drank a lot of alcohol. Cup after cup, he stared at Chloe. Stared until Liam’s face looked ugly, and my in-laws’ faces darkened. Soon it was late at night. We returned to the villa marital home. Ethan walked unsteadily. He fell onto the sofa, glasses falling off, collar open, his handsome face flushed. Handsome enough to make one blush. I understood Chloe’s intention in making him marry me even more. With me, there would be no other women. But Ethan didn’t look at me at all, which also allowed him to keep his chastity for her. Like now, he said: “Sarah Summers, I won’t do anything with you…” “Don’t hope for what you shouldn’t think about. Be your Mrs. Cole with peace of mind.” The disgust and disdain in his eyes were clearly visible. After speaking, his breathing soon steadied, and he fell asleep. I looked at his face with closed eyes, a bit dazed. If someone who really wanted to be his wife heard these words, she would be very sad. Of course, it’s not that I’m completely not sad. Because, I also once had a crush on him. 4 My friendship with Chloe began in the student era. Back then, I had met Ethan. Chloe and I were locked in a bathroom stall by a vicious female classmate. Liam climbed in through the window and rescued Chloe. They forgot about me. Ethan arrived a step late and only rescued me. I still remember, his eyes were full of me. He broke the mop blocking the door with his bare hands: “Don’t be afraid, I’m late!” No one had ever been so nervous about me. Only the moment his gaze touched me, he saw clearly who I was. Upon learning where Chloe went, the brokenness in the boy’s eyes made my heart ache. That night, I went back very late, and as soon as I entered the house, I got slapped. “Grown capable, huh? Coming back so late, whose bed did you crawl into?” My mom’s voice was very loud. Neighbors poked their heads out to watch the excitement. My explanation meant nothing to anyone. Later, Ethan made that female classmate apologize to our family. He did it for Chloe, and I benefited by association. My mom’s expression showed a moment of guilt. But she didn’t apologize for wronging me. Because of this incident. I started to have a crush on Ethan. I also secretly tested Chloe, asking what type Ethan liked. She tilted her head, smiling innocently: “Maybe someone like me?” I was stunned: “Aren’t you siblings?” After that time, Chloe seemed to deliberately get close to Ethan in front of me. Throwing herself into his arms, hugging his arm, or letting Ethan feed her. Ethan’s eyes were gentle as water, almost drowning people. What else didn’t I understand? To me, it was love at first sight. But his eyes never had me. The protagonist lives the protagonist’s life. The supporting character also lives her own life in the plot that doesn’t intersect with the protagonist. Graduating step by step, finding a job, going on blind dates. Not all crushes get a response. Not all likes have to be life and death. We ordinary people don’t have that much energy. That joy of youth. Long drowned in the boring daily rush.

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During my first week of college, I began having recurring dreams of two men. Both claimed to be my boyfriend. Every time I woke up, my entire body ached. I eventually went to see a campus psychiatrist. “It’s just stress,” he said with a gentle, slow smile as he wrote me a prescription. “Take these. They’ll help you fall into a deep sleep.” But after I started the medication, the dreams only grew longer. In the dreams, the other man would pin my wrists above my head and chuckle. “I told you to take it easy on her. If you go this long, she won’t be able to handle it.” 1 “Look at you… you’re so beautiful like this.” The hand resting against my collarbone was elegant, with long, slender fingers. I couldn’t see his face. “Aria, wake up!” Suddenly, someone shook me hard. My roommate, Chloe, was sitting on the edge of my bed, looking worried. she touched my sweat-drenched forehead. “Aria, are you sick? You’re burning up. Maybe we should go to the clinic.” I was lying in my narrow dorm bed, heart hammering against my ribs, my muscles screaming in pain. “I’m… fine,” I rasped, my voice sounding like I’d been screaming for hours. The clock on the wall ticked steadily. I moved my wrists; the lingering phantom pain from the dream felt terrifyingly real. Right before I woke up, those two men were debating exactly how to tie my hands so they could suspend me in front of the floor-length mirror… 2 This was the fourth time this week. Since moving into this dorm, the dreams had become a nightly occurrence. Two men. I could never see their faces. One was older, calm and composed. He wore expensive watches and had a voice so smooth it made my knees weak. A sophisticated predator. The other was younger. He spoke with a smile, but he was impulsive and aggressive. He never went easy on me. Both claimed they were my boyfriends. Both seemed hell-bent on breaking me. Every morning, I woke up so sore I had to use the bedpost for support just to stand up. “Aria, we’re going to be late for Anatomy. Are you coming?” Chloe asked, clutching her textbooks. I’m a med student—a firm believer in science and logic. I told myself these dreams were just the result of the intense pressure of freshman year. But I didn’t dare tell Chloe the details. She was the sensitive type; she’d probably freak out. 3 Friday afternoon. The anatomy lab was packed. Chloe had already snagged seats in the front row. “Aria, over here!” she called out. I was distracted, my mind still looped on the dreams, and I realized I had walked past her. As I tried to back up through the crowd, someone accidentally tripped me. I started to fall backward, books flying. Suddenly, a strong, firm hand caught me by the waist. “Careful. We wouldn’t want you getting wet before the lecture starts.” A low, slow laugh vibrated against my back. My legs nearly gave out. I had heard that exact voice—that exact tone—mocking me a thousand times in my dreams. Chloe mouthed a name to me: The TA. I slowly turned around. It was Silas Vance, a PhD candidate and the teaching assistant for our anatomy course. He was legendary on campus—brilliant, handsome, and completely untouchable. “Do you need a hand?” he asked, tilting his head. His dark eyes were filled with a knowing glint. I broke into a cold sweat. “No… I’m good. Thank you, Silas—I mean, Mr. Vance.” “Take your seat, Aria. Class is starting,” he smiled. I had never spoken to him before, yet the rumors about him were endless. Some said his “hobbies” were quite unconventional. The afternoon sun filtered through the high windows as Silas stood at the front of the lab in his white coat. He looked like a god cutting through the light. He pulled on latex gloves and picked up a scalpel. Chloe leaned in and whispered, “His dissection technique is famous. He’s so precise.” Silas seemed to hear her. He looked over and smiled at me. It wasn’t a warm look; it was an analytical, piercing gaze that made my skin crawl. I watched his fingers move with surgical efficiency. I couldn’t stop my mind from drifting back to the dreams. He moved exactly like the man in my nightmares—with that same effortless, terrifying control. I needed help. Real help. As soon as class ended, I fled the lab. 4 The university hospital was on the south side of campus. Friday was peak hours for the psychiatric department. I waited until my number was called. The office was quiet, bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. I heard only the mechanical click of a mouse. A pale, elegant hand rested on the mouse. A luxury watch glinted on his wrist. Against the light, I could see his sharp jawline and broad shoulders. This was Dr. Elias Thorne, the university’s most renowned professor of clinical psychology. Young, brilliant, and devastatingly handsome. He practically radiated a cold, disciplined energy. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked softly. My heart skipped. That voice. It was the voice of the man who held me down in front of the mirror. “Student? Are you listening?” Dr. Thorne looked over the rim of his glasses. I licked my dry lips. He wasn’t even looking at my chart; he was leaning back, waiting for me to speak. “I… I’m sorry. I’ve been having nightmares. Every night for a week.” His expression became serious. “Nightmares? Any specific details?” I stammered, my face heating up. “They aren’t exactly… scary. They’re… suggestive. I’m being… toyed with.” A flicker of something—amusement? curiosity?—passed through his cool eyes. He leaned forward. “And what do you think is the cause?” “Stress? Lack of sleep?” “Do you feel tired when you wake up?” he asked, his voice low and soothing, pulling me into his rhythm. “Yes, Professor. Very tired.” He smiled knowingly and began writing a prescription. “It’s just stress. Don’t worry. I’ll give you something to help you sleep deeply. It’ll be over soon.” 5 That night, I sat at my desk looking at the bottle of sleeping pills. Chloe watched me, looking hesitant. “Did you see Dr. Thorne today?” “How did you know?” “Just a guess.” She looked away and handed me a glass of water. “By the way, Aria, I think Silas is a good guy. Don’t you?” “Maybe,” I muttered, swallowing the pill. I expected a dreamless sleep. I was wrong. The dream returned with a vengeance. Both of them were there. “She’s out of it today,” a cool voice said. “Take it easy.” The room was bright. I thought of Silas, but I had no strength to say his name. Then, a more mature voice whispered in my ear. “It’s okay. Just a routine check-up. I won’t hurt you.” I tried to struggle, but I couldn’t wake up. The air smelled of galbanum, citrus, and hospital-grade disinfectant. It was the scent of the two of them combined. “So cute,” one whispered before kissing me. I felt a sharp sting on my lip. The taste of copper filled my mouth. I felt like I was drowning, gasping for air like a fish out of water. A hand cupped the back of my head, patting my cheek. “Aria, breathe. You’re going to choke yourself.” Silas let out a frustrated laugh. “I told you to lower the dose. If she’s under for too long, she can’t handle it.” Thud! I woke up on the floor. I had knocked over the washbasin by my bed. Chloe’s sleepy voice came from above. “Aria? It’s the weekend. Why are you making so much noise?” “Sorry…” I mumbled. I felt weak, as if I’d run a marathon. Then I felt it. A stinging pain on my lip. I went to the bathroom mirror. My hair was a mess, my face was flushed, and there—right on my lower lip—was a small, fresh cut. A bite mark. I looked down at my wrists. Faint, reddish marks were beginning to bloom on the pale skin. My blood ran cold. This wasn’t a dream. 6 I was spiraling into self-doubt. Was I going crazy? Or was something else happening? “Aria, focus,” Chloe said. “We have an elective today. Attendance is mandatory.” Ten minutes later, I dragged my aching body into the lecture hall. Of course, we were late. “Latecomers, front row,” a voice commanded. I looked up. Silas. He was leaning against the podium, smiling. The room was silent; he had failed half the class last semester. No one messed with him. As he called the roll, he paused at my name. “Aria Vance. Why are you late today?” “I couldn’t get up,” I whispered. “Oh? Doing what?” “Exercise,” I stammered. Silas grinned. “Well, exercise only works if you’re consistent. Perhaps you need more… practice.” My face turned scarlet. Chloe leaned over. “He’s a catch, Aria. If I were you, I’d be thrilled.” I looked at her. Why was she acting like he liked me? “Why would I be happy about that?” She blinked and looked at her pen. “Oh, you’re just overthinking it…” 7 After class, Silas called me back. “Aria, come here. I have something for you.” He sounded strictly professional. I walked back to the podium. He pulled a small bag from under the desk. “What is it?” “Medicated patches,” he said, packing his notes. “For muscle strains. It’ll help you recover faster from your… exercise.” I froze. He glanced at me. “Chloe mentioned you were struggling. She’s working with my mentor now. She’s like my younger sister.” “Oh… I see.” I felt a wave of shame. I had been imagining conspiracies where there were none.

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Bianca Fairmont, the pampered princess of the East Coast elite, had the ultrasound pictures on her phone this morning. By afternoon, she’d terminated the pregnancy. I gripped the laminated surgery sheet, my hands trembling violently. All around me, her friends watched, their expressions a mix of superiority and mocking pity. “Declan Sullivan,” one drawled, her voice dripping with scorn, “you actually went through with it? Gave up your kid just because Frank Donovan said the word?” “Look at the big man’s face! He’s going to lash out, isn’t he?” another one giggled. But Bianca only melted into Frank’s arms, her voice a soft, sickening purr. “I told you I’d never have a child with him. Do you believe me now?” The icy mask Frank wore finally thawed. I wanted to rush forward, to demand an answer, to scream a condemnation, but my three sisters had me tightly secured. Stacey Harrington, the formidable eldest and the CEO of the Harrington empire, frowned. “Frank only smiles for Bianca. Declan, for God’s sake, show some restraint.” Theodora, our second sister, the celebrated concert pianist, shot a look of pure disgust my way. “He didn’t have your privilege, Declan. He’s worked for everything. You, on the other hand, the Harrington name could find you any woman you wanted.” Dr. Petra Harrington, the professor and youngest sister after me, shoved her finger right into my chest, forcing me back a step. “They are the real pair, Declan. They always were. Are you really going to force a child into a life where its parents aren’t in love? Don’t be cruel.” They locked me down in the guest house, determined to prevent me from interfering with the happiness of their golden boy. That’s when the system I hadn’t heard from in years finally broke its silence. “Host, primary mission detected as complete! Do you wish to return to your world immediately?” I sat on the rooftop balcony, my eyes unfocused on the sprawling city skyline, but my heart was doing a frantic, joyous drum solo. This whole bitter, grueling tragedy was finally over. … Theo was beside herself with rage. “What an absolute coward! Are you really going to resort to jumping off a building because a woman said no? What a failure you are!” But my focus was entirely on the system. “Harrington sisters and Female Lead affection rating detected at 90%. Task of having a child with Female Lead Bianca Fairmont complete!” “Activation of host body death will initiate immediate return to your world, securing your bonus and curing your cancer!” I crushed the rising hysteria of joy inside my chest. I was going home. I looked up, meeting Theo’s eyes. She was still furious, but then she glanced at her phone—and a small, genuine smile touched her lips. It was a smile I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. It was the smile she reserved only for Frank. Sensing my stare, she quickly snapped the phone shut, her expression hardening again. “What? Are you planning to use your death to frighten Bianca? How twisted is your heart, Declan?” “Frank has sacrificed so much. Why can’t you just let him be happy? Does his happiness cause you so much pain?” I dug my nails into my palms and laughed, a dry, self-mocking sound. If suffering looked like being the golden boy, circled by three powerful women, with the entire world laid at his feet, then I’d gladly sign up for a lifetime of that ‘misery.’ Seeing my ashen face, Theo suddenly sighed. “Just apologize to Bianca, okay? Don’t be so dramatic about this.” She moved to pull me back from the railing, but I gently sidestepped her. I offered a cold, thin smile. “Apologize for what? What exactly did I do wrong?” Theo’s hand froze mid-air, her patience dissolving into sharp irritation. “Declan! Don’t push your luck!” I closed my eyes. Even for a mission, I had genuinely loved them. Their sudden coldness had wounded me more deeply than I cared to admit. But now, it was irrelevant. “Just wait until Petra is named full professor, and then you’ll come with us and apologize to Bianca.” I didn’t hold onto a shred of hope for her or anyone else. I just quietly confirmed with the system. “If this body dies, I go back. Is that correct?” “Yes.” I let out a slow, steady breath, then looked down. No one was below. If I jumped, I wouldn’t terrify any innocent bystanders. Theo immediately understood my intention. She screamed my name. “Declan! What are you doing!” I ignored her. I simply fell. The wind roared in my ears, whipping my face painfully. A sickening lurch of gravity took hold, but deep down, a strange, overwhelming sense of liberation rushed in. The next second, I felt a savage grip around my waist. I was yanked out of the air by a pair of massive hands and slammed hard onto the roof. Theo’s bodyguard, hired at astronomical expense, was clearly worth every penny. Seeing that I was safe, Theo rushed forward and began clawing furiously at my face. “You’re insane! You are completely insane! I said one sentence, and you try to kill yourself? You’ve been spoiled into oblivion!” I muffled a sound of pain, consumed only by the frustration of my failed escape. I didn’t acknowledge her. Her fury escalated. “Is this another trick just to get attention? Stop with your pathetic little games!” I ignored her and pried her hands off. We stared at each other until the bodyguard, momentarily distracted by his walkie-talkie, broke his focus. I seized the chance, twisted away, and threw myself over the edge. “I jumped! Don’t blame the guard!” I yelled the words as I plunged into the void. “Declan!” Theo’s despairing shriek was too late. She and the bodyguard were a second behind. I closed my eyes, expectant, yearning for death. My own world had cancer waiting for me, but it was better than spending one more second here. But no. Instead of the brutal impact, I landed in something soft. A dozen hands immediately grabbed and secured me. “Easy, son! Life is precious! Why would you do this?” I looked down at the massive, inflatable fire cushion beneath me and let my head drop in complete, bitter failure. The commotion must have drawn the attention of a neighbor, giving the fire department just enough time to save my life. “You’re mad! Declan, are you completely out of your mind?” Theo’s eyes were bloodshot. She pushed through the crowd and stumbled, collapsing to her knees in front of me. “Did you hit anything? Where does it hurt? Talk to me!” My gaze landed accidentally on her. The usually impeccable Theo had lost one shoe. She was limping, and the entire right knee of her designer jeans was soaked in fresh, bubbling blood. She must have hurt herself rushing from the roof to the street. Before, I would have instantly scooped her up and rushed her to the nearest ER. Now, I felt only a desolate emptiness. I looked away. “What? Do I need your permission to die now?” 2 Theo froze, disbelief etching every line on her face. I scoffed, walked past her, and gave a faint nod of thanks to the firefighters. “Sorry for the trouble. Please, keep this quiet. I don’t want to cause any more trouble for my family.” “Especially since I don’t want my older sister screaming at me for ruining the family’s reputation.” Theo’s fingernails dug into her palms, her eyes dangerously red. I tilted my head, slightly annoyed. “Don’t worry, there aren’t many witnesses. I can pay for their silence. With my own money, of course. Nothing to do with the Harringtons…” “Declan!” She cut me off, her voice thick with a strange, wounded emotion. I was stunned to see a flash of genuine hurt on her face. “You’re the only son! You’re the youngest! By our parents’ will, the entire estate belongs to you! It should all be yours!” I couldn’t help it. A small, hysterical laugh escaped my lips. “Do you actually believe that?” Her body stiffened. The reality hit her: Frank Donovan was the one living in the Harrington mansion. I was the one relegated to a cramped, rented studio apartment. I looked at Theo, my expression flat, but a deep, sorrowful chill seeped through me. We both had talent for the piano. She was a prodigy, and when she was young, she took me on tour with her to train me. She’d patiently guide my hands on the keys. Now, she only offered me a cold shoulder and strict orders to defer to Frank in everything. Theo seemed to resign herself, bowing her head. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Just… wait until Frank finishes his lab work and gets his professor status, then you can move back in. Your room was converted into his lab, and his experiment is at a critical stage. You’ve always been the understanding one, Declan. You get that, right?” “Everything before was just a misunderstanding…” I didn’t bother to respond. I just stood up, staggered slightly, and walked away. I was an orphan before I was transported here. My life was precarious, and then a coughing fit sent me to the hospital, where I was diagnosed with a deadly, aggressive cancer. I was unconscious from the pain. When I woke up, I was here, in the body of a ten-year-old child. “Achieve a bond rating of 80% with the Harrington siblings and Female Lead Bianca Fairmont, and have a child with Bianca, then you can return to your world and be cured of cancer!” The system vanished, and I assumed it was a morphine-fueled hallucination. But I was small, undeveloped, and ten years old. I quickly adjusted. I had no ties in my old world. A healthy body here was a gift. Later, Theo and I rode home in silence. She tried to ease the tension by talking about trivial, funny things that happened before Frank arrived. It was the most warmth I’d felt in years. It was the kind of warmth that once made me consider failing the mission and staying forever. But then I brought Frank, a fellow orphan, home from my boarding school, and he stole every bit of Theo’s affection. My initial confusion turned to anger, then to desperate attention-seeking, and finally, to hysterical fits. All I got in return was: “Stop it, Declan. Look at yourself. You’re pathetic.” The car stopped outside the Harrington gates. I got out without a word. Theo’s voice, small and wounded, called out. “Declan, your sister is hurt. I can’t walk. Could you…” I cut her off, my face blank. “You’re hurt. Go see a doctor. What good does telling me do?” I pushed the front door open. Frank was sitting casually on the sofa, looking perfectly at home. Stacey and Bianca were seated at either end. Stacey was glaring at Bianca. “Frank has been so worried about you, he hasn’t eaten a proper meal in days. He’s thin. What kind of manipulative game are you playing?” Frank, ever the mediator, tried to calm them. “Stacey, Petra, I’m fine, really. It was all a misunderstanding. It’s resolved now.” I stood at the entrance, watching their tender family moment. I glanced down at my clothes, which felt cold and damp. 3 I touched my face. Wet. Hot. Real. God, I was actually crying. Theo limped in beside me, about to speak, but Frank rushed past her. “Theo, what happened to your leg? You—” I didn’t let him finish. I hit him. A single, hard fist to the jaw. Frank cried out, stumbling back and falling hard to the marble floor, looking up at me with utter incomprehension. Almost instantly, a powerful force clamped down on me. The bodyguard’s grip was like iron. The sudden, sharp pain in my arm forced me to my knees. Stacey gave a nod of approval to the bodyguard, then shot up from the sofa. She pointed a furious finger at me. “Declan Sullivan! We really did spoil you rotten! Apologize to Frank right now!” I was sprawled on the ground, spitting out a mouthful of blood and bile. “Apologize? What did I do wrong? I was betrayed by my fiancée, and I can’t even hit the man who slept with her?” Stacey’s voice grew sharper, more shrill. “What nonsense are you talking about? Frank and Bianca were always meant to be. You were never married! There was no official commitment! You don’t count!” “I’m ashamed to call you my brother! How can you be so utterly shameless?!” I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “Shameless? Don’t forget, Bianca was the one who promised me we’d get the papers after the baby was born! She toyed with my feelings. Who is the shameless one here?” Bianca stared at me, cold and venomous. “Thank God I never signed the papers. I had foresight. My family would never accept a weak, melodramatic man like you.” Petra lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Declan! Apologize!” I didn’t speak. I just slowly scanned the faces in the room. Stacey’s eyes were cold. Petra’s face was twisted with disgust. Bianca looked like she wished I would spontaneously combust. Theo frowned, her lips moving silently, but in the end, she said nothing. It was the same look they’d given me three years ago, when Frank was exposed as my second sister’s obsessed fan, showing up at every concert. Theo, feeling sorry for him, convinced Petra to admit him to her university as a teaching assistant. To make Frank’s life easier, I was exiled from my home. My own room, the best room in the house, was converted into Frank’s private lab. “You have bodyguards wherever you go. Frank is alone. He needs to live here to communicate with Petra. Can’t you be an adult about this?” That was what they’d said when I screamed and begged. Their eyes then were the same as their eyes now. Today, I had no energy for an argument. I shrugged off the bodyguard’s hold and stumbled into the living room, grabbing the nearest thing—a massive, ridiculous crystal vase—and shattered it on the marble floor. I scooped up the largest, sharpest piece. Theo cried out, trying to rush forward, but Frank held her tight. “Declan, what are you doing?!” I looked at Frank, my expression mocking. “You wanted an apology, right?” I didn’t look at their terror-stricken faces. I was surgical, quick. A clean, practiced slash across my neck. Screams erupted from all sides. I laughed and I cried, the sound mixing together into a hysterical, broken noise. “I’ll give you my life. Is that enough? Are you happy now?” Warm, thick blood poured out. The dizzying, sharp loss of blood made it impossible to stand. In the cacophony of shrieks and commands, my vision tunneled to black. I saw the stunned faces of the women before I went under. Theo rushed forward and clutched me to her chest. “Call an ambulance!” I woke up to the sharp, stinging smell of disinfectant. The uniform white walls of the room made me dizzy. Was I back? I turned my head and saw Stacey’s exhausted, worried eyes staring back at me. I closed my eyes in bitter disappointment. I was still here. I was utterly drained. Stacey bristled at my reaction. “Declan! When did you learn to pull this pathetic woman-act?” Irritated, I caught the source of a sickeningly sweet, cloying aroma. It was a small, ornate vial on the bedside table. I instantly grabbed it and threw it against the wall. I had personally crafted that essential oil blend for Petra. She was consumed by her academic work, exhausted all the time. I spent six months apprenticing with a master herbalist to get the formula. But when Frank moved in, he stole my formula and claimed it as his own. Petra had proudly showed it off to everyone. “My sweet brother made this just for me. He’s so thoughtful.” Petra walked in just in time to see the vial arc gracefully through the air before shattering. She looked up, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Declan, you just threw away the scent?” 4 I barely frowned, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. “I’m a patient. That cloying garbage makes me sick. I threw it out. What of it?” Petra’s chest heaved, and she pointed a trembling, accusing finger at me. “Declan, you are heartless! You are a spoiled, ungrateful snake!” “It’s no wonder Bianca chose Frank over you. You—” “Petra!” Stacey’s deep voice cut her off. Petra glared at me, her eyes red, waiting for even a flicker of remorse or sadness in my expression. She found only emptiness and despair. Shaking with anger, Petra’s voice turned desperate, hysterical. “Frank made that for you! Frank worked tirelessly! How can you be so ungrateful!” I was unmoved. “I was the one who brought the formula to the house. I can easily make him another one.” My calmness utterly enraged her. She grabbed the pillow from my hospital bed and slammed it against my head. “Stop your posturing! Do you have any idea how complicated that blend is to make? Fine! You think you’re so capable? You make it!” Stacey moved to intervene, but Petra stopped her with a sharp glance. Clearly, they all agreed this was a good opportunity to break my spirit. I smiled, a cold, empty upturn of my lips. I knew exactly how complicated it was. It required two days of continuous, minute monitoring—no breaks, no sleep, not even for meals or the bathroom. The precision was staggering. They were convinced I was bluffing. Petra locked me in her home office. I began the grueling, continuous work of blending the oils. I hadn’t eaten, and soon, sweat poured down my face. I could barely hold the delicate scale. When I finally finished, the effort was too much. My head was throbbing with fever, and I collapsed onto the table. Outside, I could hear their cheerful voices. They were celebrating Frank’s successful experiment and his promotion to professor. Frank played the humble role. “Maybe we should invite Declan out. I mean, my experiment wouldn’t have been successful if he hadn’t let me use his room…” Stacey scoffed immediately. “Don’t bother! Your success is yours alone. It has nothing to do with him!” “What if he shows up and ruins your celebration? He’s capable of anything!” Petra chimed in. “Exactly! Let him focus on the blend. It will calm his restless mind. We’re doing this for his own good!” I heard their words in a confused haze. I gave a cold laugh. I picked up the small, sharp pruning scissors from the blending kit. I didn’t hesitate. I plunged them into my heart. The blood surged out, but I felt a sudden, exhilarating lightness. Then, Theo’s gentle knock came from the door. “Declan, are you finished? The time is up.” I couldn’t even find the strength to speak. Petra’s impatient voice followed. “Ignore him! He’s just looking for attention! We have to break this habit of his!” Theo sighed, her footsteps clicking away. I finally closed my eyes in triumph. My soul floated free. A second later, the door was slammed open. Stacey, her face thunderous, burst in, followed by Theo and Petra. “Declan, you are so—” Her voice died in her throat. The floor was covered in a shocking pool of scarlet.

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At my best friend’s bachelorette party, we played “Never Have I Ever.” I raised my only remaining finger and delivered the final blow: “Never have I ever dated a billionaire heir.” Someone teased me: “Every rich kid in Manhattan calls themselves a prince. Which one did you date?” “Upper East Side. Last name Sterling.” Silence fell over the room instantly. My best friend’s fiancé spoke up quietly. “So the girl who dumped Julian Sterling back then… was you?” 1 My vision was already blurring. I struggled to keep my eyelids open and asked Mark, sitting opposite me, “How… do you know his name? Do you… know him?” He snapped out of it, fiddling with his phone as if nothing happened. “Don’t know him. But I know there’s only one Sterling family on the Upper East Side.” “Right, that’s the one.” My best friend, Chloe, leaned in, eager for gossip. “If he’s a billionaire heir, his family must be loaded, right?” “Mhm,” I gestured with my hands. “His family’s backyard has a whole private garden with a fountain. The kind you can host weddings in.” “Woah! A private garden in the Upper East Side? That’s not just rich, that’s old money! By the way, was he good to you?” “Good. Really good. Thanks to him, I finished college smoothly.” “So… was he handsome?” A face as exquisite as a renaissance painting popped into my mind. I nodded. “He could give Hollywood stars a run for their money.” That’s why they say you shouldn’t meet someone too amazing when you’re young. It raises the bar for love impossibly high. Everyone else becomes a compromise. Chloe sighed. “Handsome, rich, and good to you. Why on earth did you dump him?” I was silent for a few seconds. “Well… I wouldn’t call it dumping him. You know, families like that rarely accept a girl with a background like mine.” Mark suddenly got interested. He tossed his phone on the table and jerked his chin at the others in the private room. Everyone present, except for Chloe and me, were Mark’s friends from New York. They exchanged glances and instantly understood. One by one, they left the terrace to play poker downstairs. Only Chloe, Mark, and I remained on the terrace. He poured me a glass of wine. “Tell us more. Did his mom force you out?” Not exactly. With her status, she didn’t need to use underhanded tactics on me. She just… made me face reality. It was near graduation. Julian was planning a trip for us and asked where I wanted to go. I saw a TikTok about Iceland’s volcanoes and glaciers being beautiful. Excitedly, I showed it to him. But I heard him on the phone. His tone suppressed annoyance. “I’m very busy lately, no time to come back.” … “She’s busy too, dealing with internships and her thesis.” … “Stop saying these things. Don’t call me again if it’s just this.” He hung up and turned to see me. The hastily lowered eyelids couldn’t hide his panic. I was anxious. “Was that your family?” “Yeah.” “Should you go back and check?” “No need.” He saw the video on my phone and changed the subject. “So, decided where to go yet?” We had just set the date for Iceland. On my way home from work, a car blocked my path. The window rolled down slowly, revealing a glamorous and dignified face. “Hello, Miss Jensen. I’m Julian’s mother.” I glanced at the license plate. Not something an ordinary family could own. Mrs. Sterling smiled. “Don’t be nervous. I just want to invite you for a casual dinner. I mentioned it to Julian, but he said you were busy, so I had to come personally.” I stood frozen. I looked down to call Julian. “Julian is at a business dinner right now. It’s best not to disturb him with small matters.” One look from her, and two bodyguards stepped out. One took my phone; the other “invited” me into the car. I had no choice but to follow. The Sterling mansion was on the Upper East Side. Through the window, I could see the expansive private garden. I realized his family wealth was far beyond my imagination. In the living room sat another woman. Mrs. Sterling introduced us with a smile on her lips. “That is Miss Vance. Julian’s fiancée.” Looking at the woman who shared a similar aura with Julian. I was stunned, unable to take a step. When did this happen? How did I not notice a thing? Seeing my pale face, Mrs. Sterling’s smile deepened. “What? Julian didn’t tell you? They’ve been engaged for a long time.” “Well, no need to tell outsiders about family matters.” She left me and walked towards Miss Vance. “Is this the one Julian is keeping on the side? She looks decent.” Mrs. Sterling nodded, seemingly praising me. “The girl is quite ambitious. Heard she’s the valedictorian of her class. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have caught Julian’s eye.” Miss Vance glanced at me indifferently. “Heard she’s from a small town in the Midwest? How did they meet? Is her background clean?” “Don’t worry about that. Julian doesn’t mess around. There’s a reason for it, so I didn’t interfere too much.” “Julian’s father fell down a slope while hiking in the mountains years ago. This girl ran down the mountain to get help.” “He left her a contact number, saying she could ask for help anytime. She never called. Later, when she turned eighteen, her family tricked her back home, locked her up, and tried to force her to marry for a dowry. Desperate, she called that number. Julian picked up. Lucky girl.” “After that, Julian started sponsoring her. Until she came to New York for college and they met. That’s how it started.” Miss Vance smirked. “With such a deep bond, I feel like the intruder.” Mrs. Sterling chuckled lightly. “She’s from the mountains; she lacks sophistication. For knowing when to advance and retreat, it has to be you. Julian knows this too. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be hiding her away, afraid to bring her out to meet people.” “I don’t care about the past, but since we’re discussing marriage, how does Julian plan to handle her?” Mrs. Sterling remained calm. “Julian sponsored her for so many years. If she knows gratitude, she’ll know what to do. If not, there’s me. I can handle a small matter like this without bothering Julian.” Their conversation drifted clearly into my ears. My chest felt heavy. Breathing was difficult. So, Julian’s irritability and panic were because of this. He was about to marry someone else and didn’t know how to tell me. The row of bodyguards behind me was like a wall. I couldn’t even run away. Miss Vance showed a hint of a smile. “With you handling it, Auntie, I’m relieved. By the way, I bought some vintage wine in Spain recently. You should try it.” This meant the deal was done. Mrs. Sterling smiled, signaling dinner to be served. “Tonight’s main course is fish. It’s the season for it…” They chatted away. I held on to my dignity and excused myself. Mrs. Sterling looked over indifferently. “Since Miss Jensen won’t do us the honor, I won’t force you.” This time, the bodyguards didn’t block my way. I went home and packed my things. Planning my way out. This apartment was bought by Julian when I started my internship to make my commute easier. After breaking up, I had no reason to stay. Luckily, housing wasn’t hard to solve. More than two months until graduation. I could apply for company housing early. Iceland was off the table. I comforted myself. It’s so cold there anyway, nothing to see. I kept a ledger of Julian’s financial support over the years. I’d organize it later. Pay back what I can now. The rest, I’d save up and pay him back in installments. After all, we had feelings for a few years; he wouldn’t be so heartless as to demand immediate repayment upon breakup. What else? I listed the things I needed to separate from Julian one by one. The list got longer and longer. My emotions collapsed when my gaze landed on the ring on my hand. He gave me this ring, promising we’d marry after graduation. I sat on the floor, sobbing until I gasped for air. My fingers shook so bad I couldn’t get the ring off. The electronic lock beeped. The door was yanked open. Julian’s chest heaved violently, knuckles white. Seeing I was still there, he took a deep breath and silently closed the door. He walked in, took the clothes I packed out of the suitcase, and hung them back in the closet. I took them down. He put them back. After a few times, I exploded. I rudely stuffed the clothes into the suitcase. “Julian, let’s break up.” He was silent for a long time, then spoke: “I never liked Chloe Vance, and I never got engaged to her.” “That was their decision, not mine.” I didn’t speak, still packing. He came over and pressed my hand. “Sarah, I love you.” I froze, meeting his red eyes. Only then did I see. His shirt was stained with wine. His face was flushed, with a faint slap mark. In that moment, the pain for him outweighed my own. I touched his face, forcing a smile. “Julian, I’m fine. Being with you these years, I came out ahead. You… you should listen to your family and marry Miss Vance…” He pulled me into his arms, holding my waist tightly. “I won’t. No one can force me.” He choked up, throat bobbing several times. “Sarah, we aren’t breaking up. I can handle it. Trust me.” Hugs give people strength. Holding Julian, I suddenly didn’t want to overthink anymore. Things hadn’t reached the worst point yet. Mrs. Sterling couldn’t convince Julian. So she came for me. I thought for a moment and nodded. “Okay.” “We’ll stick to the plan. Iceland in a while.” “Okay.” But what came faster than Iceland was his transfer notice. I received the message and rushed home. Julian had already packed. Behind him stood two familiar bodyguards. My eyes reddened instantly. “Why are you being transferred out of New York all of a sudden? Is it because of me?” He put down his luggage and comforted me. “Don’t cry. It’s a normal organizational rotation. I’ll be back in two years.” I sobbed, intermittently: “So… where are you going?” He lowered his head, silent for a while before spitting out a place name. I hadn’t heard of it. I searched on my phone. A remote, desolate town, thousands of miles from New York. Surrounded by mountains. I understood instantly. This was his mother’s warning. I pushed him away, trembling, tears streaming down my face. “Go back to the Upper East Side right now. Tell her you accept the arrangement. It’s just a marriage? You can…” “Sarah!” Julian interrupted me sharply. “I don’t care, but you want to give up on me because of this?” We had been together for over two years. He had never been this harsh with me. I knew he was truly angry. When Julian confessed to me, I hesitated too. With our relationship, being friends was hard enough. I owed him more and more; we were never equals. I shouldn’t have mixed feelings into it. But he was stubborn. He only asked if I liked him. He was the gentleman who saved me from danger. How could I not like him? He sighed in relief. “I like you, you like me. There’s no better reason to be together.” I slowly realized that as long as two people love each other, nothing else matters. Until that day I met Chloe Vance. That relaxation bred by money and superior background. I would never possess it in this lifetime. I cried and apologized, “But I really don’t want to drag you down.” He took a deep breath, softening his tone. “You aren’t dragging me down. I always wanted to escape my mother. This is the best chance. I must go. Will you wait for me?” I didn’t speak. “Will you wait for me?” He lifted my chin, looking into my eyes, forcing an answer. “…Mhm.” Red-eyed, he pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. “The infrastructure there isn’t great, cell service is spotty. I’ll write letters if I miss you.” “Mhm.” “Stay here and wait for me obediently. Just two years.” 2 But actually, that was the last time we saw each other. One month after Julian left. I received his letter. He told me he was doing well. Although remote, the people were simple and honest, and the scenery was nice. He occasionally went to villagers’ homes to teach kids how to read. [Sarah, work hard, live well, don’t think about anything else. Two years later, I’ll come back to marry you.] Mrs. Sterling found me again. Her expression was meaningful. “Don’t think you’ve won.” “He thinks he can sacrifice his future for you now, but look again in three or five years.” “When those with less background than him climb much higher than him, he will blame you. Blame you for not leaving cleanly back then, for dragging him down.” “You think love can overcome all difficulties? Wrong. In the end, you’ll only resent each other.” I couldn’t refute her. It was almost summer. Yet I felt a bone-deep chill rising from my back, spreading through my body. I forced myself to go home. Someone unexpected was waiting at the door. Chloe Vance threw a few photos at me and asked, “Want to see Julian? I’ll take you.” New York to Cangping was over two thousand miles. Even flying took hours. After landing, Chloe’s people drove us into the mountains in an SUV. The car drove for a long time before stopping by the road. Chloe pointed to the crowd by the shallow river at the foot of the mountain. “There, Julian is there.” I remembered the first time I saw Julian. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, standing at our university gate in a crisp suit, not a single wrinkle on his pants. Such a beautiful, exquisite man, even in a crowded place, was dazzlingly impossible to ignore. And now, I clung to the car window, squinting to identify him. He was tanned. Helping some villagers catch a pig. Inexperienced, he was knocked over by the pig several times. His pants were muddy, his shirt wrinkled. Just as dusty and dirty as in the photos Chloe showed me. For the first time, I felt he looked pathetic. My nose stung, tears falling patter-patter. How could he be so pathetic? Chloe looked on with a sigh. “Among the wealthy heirs of this generation in New York, Julian is the most capable. My dad says Julian’s future achievements might even surpass his mother’s.” “For Mrs. Sterling to sit in her current position, she is definitely not a soft-hearted woman. She won’t compromise just because she sees Julian suffering. I’ll be straight with you: if he keeps messing around, Mrs. Sterling will abandon him.” She rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. “Honestly, Sarah, I don’t want to interfere between you two. But I’ve enjoyed the benefits my family provided for so many years; I can’t flip the table when the family needs me.” “Julian doesn’t understand this. He flipped it completely, but what’s the result?” “He was so glorious in New York, so many people bowing and scraping to please him. Now he’s reduced to this, helping people catch pigs today, finding lost dogs for villagers tomorrow. Sarah, are you happy seeing him like this?” “I have no love for him, so I don’t understand. Is love really more important than a person’s future? If you think so, you can go down and find him. The Song family has no need to marry someone abandoned by Mrs. Sterling.” I braced myself against the window, fingertips trembling unconsciously. Not far away, Julian and the others finally caught the pig. The villagers tied the pig up and carried it back. Julian remained, bending over with hands on knees. Like a bamboo bent under pressure. After catching his breath, he followed them. After a few steps, Julian suddenly looked up in this direction. There were many trees on the mountain; he didn’t notice the car. He turned his head and continued walking. The sun set in the west. I withdrew my gaze and said calmly, “Miss Vance, let’s go back.” “Are you sure?” “…Sorry for the trouble.” Chloe didn’t speak again, signaling the driver. She had gotten the answer she wanted. In the rearview mirror, Julian’s figure grew smaller and smaller. Mountain wind poured in, very cold. The car turned a corner. That mountain village disappeared completely. I closed my eyes, coolness seeping into my temples. Back in New York, packing my things took only two days. Before leaving, I cleaned the apartment spotless. As if I had never been there. Sitting on the high-speed train to Shanghai, I thought the breakup letter should be arriving soon. That summer, everything related to Julian Sterling came to an abrupt halt. For the next six years, I saw no news of him, heard not a whisper. I worked, started a business, busy surviving. Rarely had free time. I occasionally dreamt of him. Waking up, I would zone out. Longing is a long rainy season. In the humid haze, I could never wipe dry the part about Julian. So much so that for many years after, I lived in regret. If only I could have said goodbye properly. The atmosphere sank into silence. I wiped my tears, apologizing repeatedly. “Sorry, on such a happy day, I brought everyone down.” Mark stared at me for a while. Picked up the wine bottle and poured for me again. “Tonight is a truth session. Sarah, drink up! I have plenty.” Chloe glared at him. “The wedding is tomorrow. If she gets drunk, where am I going to find another bridesmaid? Too late to call someone.” “Relax wifey, hubby has it handled, OK? Sarah, back to the point, do you… still like him? Still want to be together?” I tilted my head and thought seriously, nodding. “Like.” Then shook my head. “But, can’t be together.” He’s probably married with kids by now. Besides, even if not, the problems from back then still exist today. I haven’t lost touch with reality after six years. Night wind squeezed through the terrace door crack. Moist, warm, carrying the specific tenderness of New York spring, like a lover’s caress. Warm wind plus alcohol went straight to my head. I soon felt dizzy. In my daze, I heard someone on the phone. Voice fading in and out, with inexplicable excitement. “Giving you a chance, get your ass back from Lanshi!” “I swear it’s her!” “If I’m lying, I’ll call you daddy!” 3 When the alarm rang. My head still hurt. Struggled to get up, shower, and change. Chloe called. “Honey, come down when you’re ready. Mark called his friend to pick you up. Makeup at the studio first, then back to the hotel together.” “No need, send me the location, I’ll take a cab.” “You came all the way from Shanghai to be my bridesmaid, how can I let you take a cab!” I had to hurry, changing shoes and taking the elevator. “Is it too much trouble for them…” “It’s fine, Mark says they’re tight. Rarely back in New York, gotta make use of him—” Elevator descended to B2, opened with a ding. Chloe’s voice echoed in the quiet parking garage. “—Mark sent the info, his friend is waiting in Zone C. License plate Lanshi BM0628, grey Touareg.” I paused. 0628, my birthday. “His friend… is he from New York?” “Yeah, but works in Lanshi. Said he couldn’t make it, but suddenly changed his mind last night…” While talking, I saw the person leaning against the car door. Head down, checking messages. I couldn’t see his face clearly. But my heart raced inexplicably, mouth dry. I hung up quickly. Turned to leave immediately. The person heard the noise. Put away his phone, took a long step. “Sarah Jensen, where are you going this time?” My back stiffened, turning like a puppet with rusted joints. The man in front of me had lost the sharpness of his youth. Even in casual clothes, he looked more composed and introverted. I quietly took off the ring on my right hand. Forcing a dignified smile, I extended my hand. “Hello Julian, long time no see.” He looked down at it, suddenly chuckled. “We know each other well enough, no need to be so polite. Let’s go, you’re the bridesmaid, don’t be late.” He acted naturally, but didn’t shake my hand. My heart felt empty for a second. Unsure if it was relief or disappointment. Taking a deep breath, I got into his car. Door closed, world silenced. Julian didn’t start the car immediately. I pretended to be calm, texting Chloe. [Did I embarrass myself last night?] She replied fast: [Nope. You just told the story about you and the prince of New York. Quite moving.] I closed my eyes. Might as well have embarrassed myself. “Have you been well these years?” The person beside me spoke suddenly. Startled, I almost dropped my phone. Steadying myself, I exchanged pleasantries, pretending to be carefree. “Pretty good, you?” Julian gripped the steering wheel, silent for a long time. Long enough to make me panic. He finally started the car. “Not too good.” 4 The whole wedding, I was out of it. When the bride and groom exchanged rings, someone nudged my arm before I snapped out of it. Hurriedly took the rings out of my bag to bring on stage. Accidentally stepped on my dress. Thought I was going to make a fool of myself. An arm extended from behind to steady me. I turned, thanking him with a blushing face. “No problem.” Julian politely withdrew his hand and retreated into the crowd. Mark on stage smiled mischievously. “Bro, you’re here too?” Julian glanced at him coolly. Full of warning. Mark shrank back, daring not provoke him further. I stood on stage, feeling that gaze bypass Mark and land on me. Focused, certain, calm as the deep sea. Guilty, I didn’t dare lift my head. After the wedding, I was just saying goodbye to Chloe and Mark, saying I had things to do. But Mark’s mom pulled me over to introduce me to Julian. “This is Sarah Jensen. She started a company with our Chloe. You know ‘Glimmer’? The hottest female community platform right now, Sarah built it from scratch.” Then turned to me. “Sarah, this is my godson Julian Sterling…” “Ahhhhhhh!” Chloe suddenly lifted her dress and screamed, jumping. “Ju-Ju-Ju-Ju… Julian Sterling? THE Julian Sterling from the Upper East Side?!” Mark’s mom was confused. “What’s wrong? Hearing his name like a cat stepping on hot bricks.” Julian’s lips curved slightly. “Sister-in-law probably heard some stories from Miss Jensen.” Mark’s mom’s eyes lit up. “What, you knew each other?” “Mhm, we used to date…” “Mr. Sterling sponsored me when I was in college. We often discussed my coursework, mhm.” I interrupted, signaling Julian with my eyes to stop. No need to dig up the past, causing trouble. Julian looked at me, face a bit cold. “Yes Godmother, later I dated Miss Jensen for a few years. When she graduated, I happened to be sent to the countryside, so she dumped me.” I didn’t expect him to be so blunt. He was stating facts. But logically, it sounded like I was an ungrateful woman who abandoned him when he was down. Mark’s mom paused, then looking at my expression, understood. “So there was such a story. I wondered why you delayed your trip to Ning City…” Julian coughed lightly. “Godmother.” “Okay okay, not saying it. So Julian, are you planning to chase Miss Jensen back?” Mark’s mom asked without avoiding me. Too awkward. Julian looked at me and said, “Not happening.” The atmosphere cooled instantly. Mark laughed dryly to smooth things over. “Didn’t Sarah say she had things to do? Julian, give her a ride.” I refused instinctively. “No need to trouble…” Julian grabbed his jacket with his left hand, and my wrist with his right. “Not trouble, I have time.” Heat traveled from where he held me straight to my cheeks. I looked down at that hand with defined knuckles. Dazed, I forgot to push him away. Until our figures disappeared completely. Chloe suddenly reacted. Kicked Mark in the shin. “Hiding it even from me! I’ll kill you, you bastard!” “Hey, hey, wifey don’t hit! I meant well right? You saw it yesterday, Sarah still likes him. If they work out, it’s a good deed!” “Did you not hear what Julian just said? He said ‘Not happening’!” “Psh! You didn’t see him half-dead back then. For Sarah, he hasn’t let go! He’s just being stubborn. Think about it, dumped by someone, and admitting he wants her back in front of everyone? Doesn’t he need to save face?” “But did you forget why they broke up? His family wouldn’t allow it. If it happens again, what about Sarah?” “Not gonna happen! Why do you think he stayed in Lanshi and didn’t return to New York? Just to avoid the path his mom laid out. With his current rank, his mom can’t control him anymore! Hard!” “…You better hope they work out. Otherwise if Sarah drifts away from me because of this, prepare to kneel on a washboard!”

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There was a little wild spider in my apartment. After a brief stare-down, it dropped a coin and ran away. That night, a black, fuzzy little spider visited me in my dreams, acting incredibly cowardly. “…Hi there. The money is for you. Could you please, please not destroy the web I weave?” It added in a trembling voice: “Also… also, please don’t poke my butt anymore. I’m scared!” “I know living in a human’s house means paying rent. I will work hard to earn money and pay my share.” The little spider peeked out with just a sliver of its eyes. I looked down, staring at it. After a long while, I squeezed out a sentence. “Wait a minute… you look kind of familiar.” 1 It happened a second time. Another coin appeared on my vanity. And my vanity, which was a bit messy last night, had been tidied up. Everything was neatly organized. But this time. I caught the culprit red-handed. “A… spider?” The little spider, who was dragging the heavy coin with its back to me, froze. It slowly turned its head. Those oOOo eyes were filled with disbelief at seeing me awake. We stared at each other. The little spider got so scared its eight legs puffed out. It looked like a frightened kitten with its fur standing on end. It dropped the coin and ran. It scurried half a meter in a flash and vanished in the blink of an eye. I stood in silence, walked out of the room without a word. Then walked back in. “Maybe I organized the desk myself before bed last night and just forgot.” I comforted myself with a blank expression. I pretended not to see the extra coin. Then I grabbed my bag and scrambled out the door to go to work. Not because I was scared, but because if I didn’t leave now, I’d lose my perfect attendance bonus! That evening. I came home exhausted from work, not wanting to think about the bizarre event from the morning. But I still took a shower using sage and rosemary soap, just in case. I stared at the spotless ceiling for a while. Eventually. I confirmed that the cobwebs in the corner had been swept away. So I spoke to the air, “I don’t know if you’re a spider or a ghost controlling a spider, but thanks.” “The ceiling corners are very clean. It’s much nicer to look at.” Silence. I didn’t expect an answer anyway. But then, I heard a voice as faint as a mosquito from the corner: “…You’re welcome.” Me: “…” Ideally polite, for a bug. 2 That night, I dreamed. A fuzzy black spider with a tint of purple stood anxiously before me, keeping a meter’s distance. “I’m sorry to communicate with you this way, but I really have no other choice.” The little spider covered its face with two front legs, pleading cowardly. “…Hi there. The money is for you. Could you please not destroy the web I weave anymore?” It added, trembling: “Also… also, please don’t poke my butt anymore. I’m scared!” “I know living in a human’s house means paying rent. I will work hard to earn money and pay my share.” Actually, the spider didn’t cover its face completely; it peeked out with a sliver of its eyes. I looked down, staring at it. After a long while. I squeezed out a sentence. “Wait a minute… you look kind of familiar.” My gaze uncontrollably landed on the spider’s fuzzy, oval, solid butt. I’ve seen it somewhere. I suddenly recalled, realizing with a start. “You’re that spider on the balcony corner who weaves webs meticulously but makes them look terrible!” The little spider stiffened. The fear of being molested returned. It ran away crying, “Pervert—” 3 The little spider arrived a week ago. When I found it, it was struggling to pull back the web it had just woven, like a human rushing to take clothes off the line when it rains. I didn’t notice it at the time and almost slapped it into the afterlife. Of course. I’m not a pervert. I was just spacing out after watering the plants on the balcony, and then I saw the fuzzy little spider weaving silently in the corner. Its butt was too distracting; the spinnerets at the back moved so fast. Like I was possessed. I found a disposable glove and poked it. Unlike other ordinary house spiders, this one was deep black with a purple hue, had faint stripes on the edge of its abdomen, and was extra fuzzy. Spiders that appear in homes are generally non-venomous, or if they are, it’s very weak. So I wasn’t afraid of getting bitten. The fuzzy spider butt was indeed plump and solid. I stared at my fingertip, unable to resist rubbing it. “Just as I thought, heavy, a bit soft, feels great.” “…Truly the kitten of the spider world.” The little spider probably experienced this for the first time. It turned around stiffly, looking like it was about to fight me for touching it again. “Uh, sorry?” Just now, did it glare at me? “…” The spider walked away, moving its legs in a clumsy, synchronized panic, swallowing its anger. 4 We lived in peace for a week. Occasionally, I’d get curious and poke a hole in its web, and the little spider wouldn’t get mad. It would just wait for me to leave, then silently wiggle its butt to repair the web. “Ew… so sticky.” The little spider blinked its oOOo dorky eyes and turned around at the sound. Its gaze landed on my fingertip, where there was… a piece of the web it had just woven, now broken. I did it again. I withdrew my hand sheepishly, a bit embarrassed. The spider didn’t run away. Instead, it frantically stuck its butt out at me, waving its little legs. I hesitated. “Do you want me to touch it? Okay.” So I reached out. “!!” The little spider covered its butt in horror and zoomed away. I thought it wanted me to touch it. But looking back, that wasn’t the case. I waved my hands frantically, “I’m not a pervert.” The honest little spider cried and accused me. It hid far away from me, sobbing quietly. “Don’t say that word.” It seemed even less able to handle the word ‘pervert’ than I was, breaking down: “You touched me… and you say you’re not a pervert!” “I clearly warned you.” I was confused, “Did you?” The spider was exasperated by my cluelessness. It tapped out from the corner and repeated its previous action. “Are you blind?” The spider choked back tears, “This is my attack stance. I was warning you.” “When spiders are scared, they stick their butts up to look bigger and scare off enemies.” “But… but you didn’t say a word and just touched me!” “And you destroyed my web. I can’t even get full.” “If this goes on, I might starve to death.” The spider whimpered, totally breaking down. Turns out I misunderstood. I thought the spider was offering its butt for me to poke. “Sorry, I didn’t know.” I apologized honestly to the spider, promising not to break its hard-woven web again, and promised compensation. The spider sniffled, asking in a hoarse voice: “Really?” I hummed a yes. “Next time I’ll use the electric fly swatter to zap some mosquitoes for you, throw them on your web, give you a deluxe feast.” The spider wiped its tears while choking up. Then it said I was a good person. “Turns out prison isn’t that hard to endure. You’re not at all as scary as the Warden said.” Me: “?”

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My annual income is $1.5 million. My salary account, my secondary credit card, every investment portfolio—it all sat with my mother. She insisted she was handling my finances. I believed her. Until my wife’s water broke. When I called my mother for the cash, she told me, “The account is empty.” I hung up, and that same night, I called the bank’s customer service line. “Hello, I need to place a hold on every bank card in my name.” By early morning, my mother had called me thirty-seven times, a frenzy of pure panic. 01 The cell phone in my pocket vibrated like a grenade about to detonate. I was staring at a dense wall of code on my monitor, my fingers a blur on the keyboard. Then the name “Harper” popped up on the screen, and my heart seized up. I swiped to answer. Harper’s voice came through, tight, laced with suppressed pain. “Gavin, I think… my water just broke.” Voom. The tightrope I’d been walking in my mind snapped. “Don’t panic. I’m coming home now!” I grabbed my jacket from the back of my chair and burst out of the conference room, ignoring the project manager’s astonished shouts behind me. I drove like a maniac, speeding all the way home. I collected Harper, who already had the hospital bag ready, along with her parents, the Petersons, and raced to St. Jude’s Women’s Center. The hospital hallway was saturated with the cold, acrid smell of antiseptic. Harper was on a rolling gurney. Her face was pale, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. She gripped my hand so tightly her knuckles were white. “I’m here. Just breathe.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead, my own voice trembling despite my effort to keep it steady. The doctor calmly outlined the procedure. A nurse hurried over with a clipboard. “Family, please take care of the admission process. We need a hundred thousand dollar deposit.” “Understood. Right away.” I gave Harper’s hand a reassuring squeeze and walked toward the payment counter. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I knew by heart. It rang for an agonizingly long time before it was picked up. “Hello? What do you want?” My mother, Joyce Stone, sounded sharply annoyed, her voice muffled by the sound of a loud, trashy reality TV show playing in the background. “Mom, Harper’s in labor. We’re at the hospital. Can you transfer a hundred thousand to my card? I need to pay the deposit.” I tried to keep the heat out of my voice. “In labor? Already?” She paused, the TV noise momentarily dipping, then she spoke with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Oh, I’m busy right now, honey. I can’t leave.” “You don’t have to come. Just transfer the money.” “The money?” Her voice went up an octave. “What money? The accounts are dry.” I thought I’d misheard her. “What do you mean, dry? What about the salary I wire every month? What about the investment accounts?” “Oh, those.” She said it as if discussing the weather. “Well, your brother, Trevor, saw a new BMW X5 he liked a while ago, so I got it for him. Then he said he was getting into a partnership for some new venture, so I gave him the rest to invest. A man has to have his own business, you know.” Her tone was utterly, sickeningly rational. Through the receiver, I could clearly hear Trevor’s loud, spoiled laugh. “Mom, stop talking to him. Focus! My turn!” That laugh felt like a poisoned needle plunging into my eardrum. 1.5 million a year. Five years of non-stop work. That was 7.5 million. Now, my wife was on a gurney waiting for the cash we needed for her delivery, and my own mother was telling me she’d given the entire fortune to my useless younger brother for a luxury SUV and some vague, bogus investments. Blood rushed to my head, then immediately drained away, freezing my entire system. I said nothing. I couldn’t form a single word. I just disconnected the call. The world went silent. I turned back and saw the Petersons standing anxiously near the door. The worry and genuine care in their eyes felt like a stinging slap across my face. I, the son-in-law who earned a staggering salary, couldn’t even cover my own wife’s hospital admission fee. A monstrous mix of shame and white-hot fury clenched my heart. I took a deep breath, the antiseptic scent sharper than ever. I walked to the end of the hall where a window was open. The night air rushed in, chilling me to the bone. Without a second thought, I started dialing the customer service numbers for every single bank account in my name. “Hello, I need to report all my cards as stolen.” “Yes. Every checking, savings, and credit card, including the secondary cards.” “That’s right. All of them.” “Please mail the replacement cards to my office address, and hold them for pickup only.” My voice was unnaturally calm, a cold, robotic tone I barely recognized. I hung up the last call and walked back to the payment desk. Mr. Peterson was already there, handing his own bank card to the cashier. “Gavin, don’t worry about the money,” he said, patting my shoulder, his voice steady. “We have some retirement funds. We’ll cover it. Harper and the baby are what matters.” I looked at the silver in his hair, and my eyes burned. I nodded heavily, pushing the crushing guilt and the towering hatred back down into the deepest part of my gut. Joyce. Trevor. You forced my hand. 02 I sat on the hard bench outside the delivery room all night. Starting at five in the morning, my phone went into crisis mode. The name “Mom” flashed on the screen, over and over—one time, ten times, thirty times… I didn’t answer. I hit the silent button and let it vibrate, a desperate, muted struggle in my palm, like a creature whose neck had been snapped. The entire world was quiet. All I could hear was the frantic drumming of my own heart and the distant, occasional cry of an infant. Harper had been inside for four hours. Every minute felt like an hour in a fryer. Finally, the calls stopped. In their place came a string of red exclamation points in our family chat, a cascade of furious texts. “Gavin Stone, you ungrateful snake! You think you’re too big for me now? You dare ignore my calls?” “What did you do to the cards? Why can’t I take money out?” “Your brother had an important dinner today and the credit card was declined! He was mortified! What are you trying to pull?” “I’m warning you, if you don’t come explain yourself, you and I are done!” The voice messages were shrill, curses that seemed to scratch the screen. Then came the inevitable message from my dear brother, Trevor. “Dude, what the hell? My secondary card is frozen? Did you move the money? I was hosting clients! You made me look like an absolute idiot!” His texts were full of self-righteous entitlement, as if freezing his account was a criminal offense on my part. I looked at the messages and a cold, tight smirk pulled at my lips. Mortified? When my wife was in the delivery room, fighting for her life, and I couldn’t pay the bill, who saved me from being mortified? I could almost see it: Joyce realizing all the cards were dead, throwing a fit in the bank lobby, and eventually being dragged out by security like a sack of trash. It would have been… magnificent. My phone buzzed again—Joyce’s final ultimatum. “Gavin, I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing. Get your butt home and explain this! Or you can forget you ever had a mother!” The irony was overwhelming. This mother? I was already forgetting. I dimmed the screen and slipped the phone back into my pocket. Just then, a loud, clear “WAAAH!” erupted from the delivery room. The door opened. A nurse emerged, smiling, holding a tightly swaddled baby. “Congratulations! It’s a healthy baby boy. Mother and son are doing well!” In that moment, the entire night’s anxiety, rage, and coldness melted away. I rushed over, looked at that wrinkled little face, and my heart filled with an unbearable, soft warmth. The knot in my chest finally unraveled. My son. My wife. From this day forward, this was my only family. 03 Harper was moved to a VIP suite. The Petersons bustled around, their faces shining with uncontained joy. I held Harper’s hand, watching her weak but satisfied smile, and looked at our son sleeping peacefully in the bassinet beside her. The world felt quiet and perfectly complete. The tranquility lasted exactly two hours. The door to the suite was violently shoved open with a jarring BANG. Joyce and Trevor stormed in, their faces contorted with rage. “Gavin!” Joyce’s voice was a shriek that threatened to lift the roof. She crossed the room in three strides, her finger jabbing the air inches from my nose. “You ungrateful bastard! You think you’re so smart now? Who gave you the right to freeze the bank cards?” Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair a mess. She looked like a woman who hadn’t slept, a complete madwoman. I frowned, stood up, and placed myself between her and Harper’s bed. “Mom, this is a hospital. Harper just gave birth and needs rest. Please leave.” My voice was flat and icy. “I leave? Why should I leave? I raised you with my own two hands, and now you marry a wife and forget your mother! I’m not done with you, and you’re already trying to kick me out?” She put her hands on her hips, ready for a brawl. Trevor immediately chimed in. “Seriously, bro, this is low! Mom has been frantic looking for you! And you’re hiding out here with… with them!” “Them?” I slowly repeated the word, my gaze sharp as a razor. The Petersons stepped forward. Mrs. Peterson stood beside Harper’s bed and addressed Joyce. “Joyce, please, calm down. Harper just had surgery; she’s fragile. She shouldn’t be upset.” “You stay out of this!” Joyce completely dismissed her. “This has nothing to do with you! This is our family business! It’s your daughter, that… that gold-digger, who’s corrupted my son!” She moved to shove Mrs. Peterson aside. I grabbed her wrist, my grip firm. “Enough.” My voice wasn’t loud, but the entire room fell instantly silent. Joyce flinched, shocked by the sudden hardness in my eyes, but quickly recovered, launching into her classic dramatic routine. She collapsed onto the floor, began to wail, and pounded her thigh. “Oh, what sin did I commit! To raise a son who just turns into a tool for someone else’s family! I fed him, I clothed him, I put him through college! Now he’s successful, makes millions, and he won’t recognize his own mother! My life is so hard…” Her hysterics drew curious onlookers into the doorway. I watched her performance in silence, my face blank. When her sobs began to quiet, I finally spoke, every word slow and distinct, carrying clearly to every person present. “I make a million and a half dollars a year. Since I was promoted to Technical Director five years ago, my paycheck has been deposited into your accounts, untouched.” “Five years. No more, no less. Seven and a half million dollars.” “Where is it?” I posed the question with the same casual tone one might use to ask about the time. Joyce’s wailing choked off immediately. She lifted her head, and for the first time, her eyes held genuine panic and evasion. The hospital suite was utterly silent. She opened her mouth, but not a single sound came out. $7.5 million. The number was a mountain, crushing the air out of her lungs and clogging her throat. Her theatrics, her curses, her feigned distress—they all collapsed into a ridiculous, pathetic farce in the face of that cold, indisputable figure. 04 “The money… the money?” Joyce repeated my words, stammering, her eyes darting around like a broken record player. Her mind was racing, trying to conjure a plausible lie. But before she could speak, Trevor sprang up like a cornered animal. “It’s spent, obviously!” He jutted out his chin, adopting a self-assured sneer. “Wasn’t I supposed to have startup capital for my business? Is buying a BMW X5 for transport and networking too much to ask? Besides, family expenses, holiday gifts, all the favors—that takes money, right?” He spoke with an arrogant air, proudly flashing the brand-new gold watch on his wrist—a watch he’d charged to my secondary card just last month. “Oh, and by the way, I bought my girlfriend a Hermès bag for her birthday. That’s for networking, too!” Every word he spoke was like a dull blade, scraping at my very core. From the bed, Harper, who had been silently watching, finally spoke, her voice clear and chilling.

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1 On the night the real heiress came back to the Gould family, my own brother drove me to an orphanage and abandoned me. My once comfortable life was torn apart in a day. At the orphanage, bullies made me their target — sometimes nearly drowning me in a drain, other times whipping my back until I couldn’t get up. I begged the warden for help, but he just sneered, “If you weren’t so vicious, your family wouldn’t have thrown you out. You deserved it.” His silence encouraged them. On Christmas Eve, they stripped me and threw me into the snow. I was found stiff and rushed to the hospital. Through the haze, I heard the warden’s cynical laugh: “The Goulds tossed out their own daughter to protect their adopted one — they’re even paying extra to ‘break her.’” He added, “They treat that new girl, Lila, like a queen. I doubt Mr. Gould will even come to see her.” So it was all a game — orchestrated by my brother, Adrian, for Lila. Clutching my bone cancer diagnosis, I laughed through my tears. Soon, Lila really would be his only sister. … The doctor stood before me, his expression grave, sighing repeatedly. “It’s highly unusual for someone your age to develop this, but it was likely aggravated by the repeated, untreated fractures in your leg…” He sat down, patiently explaining the treatment options. But my hearing had been damaged from the constant beatings, a recurring deafness that muffled his voice into a dull drone. I only caught the last sentence. “If we start treatment immediately, we can extend your life by a few years. You should discuss the options with your family.” Family? After six years as an orphan, the word still felt foreign, jarring. I shook my head, a tearful smile on my lips. “I don’t have a family.” The doctor’s pen froze mid-sentence. His eyes scanned the map of scars and bruises covering my body, his voice softening with concern. “Listen, kid, fights with family are one thing, but running away is another. The world out there is a cruel place. It’ll eat you alive.” He offered a reassuring look. “Your brother will be here soon. Just talk it out with him.” I lowered my head, silent. My home was once my sanctuary, the warmest place in the world. But the moment Adrian cast me aside for Lila, that home vanished. He wasn’t coming to save me. He wouldn’t care. I stared blankly at the ceiling tiles, and as I tried to shift my weight, the door flew open. “Aria? Are you serious right now? Your phone goes unanswered, so you pull a stunt like this just to get my attention?” The familiar sound of Adrian’s voice sent a jolt through me. So all those times I’d been tortured to the brink of death, when I’d desperately called him, begging for a way out… he knew it was me. He just chose not to answer. A hopeless laugh escaped my lips. I looked up, my bloodshot eyes meeting his. My voice was raw as I bit out the words. “So you’ve just been ignoring me? Is that how much you despise me? How much you can’t stand having me as your sister?” Adrian’s pupils contracted. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, the rims of his eyes turning red. The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air between us. Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He looked down, his voice low. “I did it to give Lila a happy childhood. You had everything. Her mother died protecting our parents.” His voice grew firmer, defensive. “Taking care of her was a promise I made. You were always so aggressive, always bullying her. I had no other choice.” I nodded, a bitter smile spreading across my face as a million tiny needles of pain pierced my heart. Give her a happy childhood? And what about me? Did I deserve to be abandoned in an orphanage? To be tormented until I wished for death? To get bone cancer? I fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. “And Mom and Dad?” His expression was cool, unreadable. “It was a family decision. We were planning to bring you home, once Lila felt more settled.” I thought I was prepared for it, but hearing the words from his own mouth was like a sledgehammer to the chest. The whole family knew. All of them. They had calmly and deliberately sacrificed me for the sake of their housekeeper’s daughter. The dam broke. Tears streamed down my face. I would rather have been the fake heiress. I would rather have frozen to death in the snow that night. Anything would have been less painful than this. Seeing my tears, a flicker of pity crossed Adrian’s face. He sighed, offering a concession. “If you promise to control your temper, to stop being so aggressive and leave Lila alone, I’ll bring you home tomorrow.” He paused. “Not tonight. Tonight is Christmas Eve, and it’s her birthday. Mom, Dad, and I promised we’d spend it alone with her.” My throat was dry. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. A self-mocking smirk twisted my lips. “I’m sick,” I said, my voice flat. “Bone cancer. I need to stay here for treatment. Just pay the bills. I won’t go home. I won’t bother your precious Lila.” The words had barely left my mouth when his voice exploded in a furious, restrained roar. “What is wrong with you, Aria? What’s with the attitude?” “You find out you’re the real daughter and suddenly you think you can pull whatever manipulative crap you want? You’d even lie about having cancer just to guilt me into taking you home?” I stared at him in disbelief, pointing a trembling finger at the doctor. “I’m not lying! Ask him!” The doctor stepped forward, ready to explain, but Adrian cut him off, his patience shattered. He kicked the side of my bed with a loud thud. “Enough! You haven’t changed a bit after all these years! Now you’re even getting doctors to lie for you!” He turned to leave, his voice filled with disgust. “I never should have wasted my time coming here.” The door slammed shut, plunging the room into a deafening silence. My heart plummeted, my gaze fixed on the empty doorway. The doctor was stunned. “But… isn’t he Adrian Gould? The man who’s famous for doting on his sister? Is he really your brother?” I nodded, then slowly shook my head. He was famous for doting on his sister. But that sister was no longer me. It was Lila. She was our housekeeper’s daughter, and we grew up together. I shared everything I had with her, treating her like she was my own blood. But as we got older, it was never enough for her. She started telling lies to our parents. She claimed I led a group of bullies to torment her at school, calling her a country bumpkin. She said I stripped her clothes off in front of everyone, shouting that poor people didn’t deserve to wear nice things. My parents, who had always seen me as their perfect daughter, began to look at me with growing disappointment. My brother’s frustration turned to rage, and his hand often found my cheek. My own family started to look at me like I was a monster. Then, our housekeeper died in a car crash while shielding my parents. Shortly after, Adrian found an audio recording. That night, he took nine-year-old me to the orphanage. “There was a switch at birth,” he’d told me, his voice cold. “Lila is their real daughter. My real sister. You stole her life!” My world crumbled in that instant, but I had no choice but to accept it. That’s why, even when I was suffering in the orphanage, I never hated them for sending me away. They had loved me once, treasured me. I thought they were just getting justice for their real daughter. But now, knowing the truth… it was all a pathetic joke. As I recounted the story, tears began to fall again. The doctor’s brow was furrowed with pity, unsure of how to comfort me. I forced a smile. Just as I was about to say, “It’s okay,” the door burst open. A group of security guards stormed in. Two of them grabbed me, binding my arms, and dragged me out of the hospital. “Mr. Gould’s orders!” one of them announced. “You’re wasting resources faking an illness. Any doctor who conspires with you will have their career terminated!” The kind doctor tried to intervene, pleading my case, but Adrian’s influence was absolute. The guards were just doing their job. They threw me onto the cold pavement of the street. The impact sent a searing, grinding pain through every bone in my body. I lay on the ground, convulsing. The doctor, his heart aching for me, took off his own winter coat and draped it over my thin hospital gown. “I have a family to support, kid. I can’t lose my job. I’m sorry I can’t do more, but this might help with the pain.” He shoved a bottle of painkillers into my hand before the guards shooed him away. I fumbled with the bottle, dry-swallowing a handful of pills. After a few minutes, the shaking subsided. I staggered to my feet, looking around at the bustling street. Dusk was falling. People were rushing home for Christmas Eve, their faces glowing with happiness. And then there was me. A ghost wandering the streets with nowhere to go. I sniffled, pulling the coat tighter, but the wind still bit through to my bones. I found a sheltered alcove by a building and huddled down, trying to conserve warmth. As I crouched there, my eyes fell on a high-end restaurant across the street. And in the window, a familiar family of four. A three-tiered cake sat on their table. Lila, wearing a birthday crown, sat in the middle, her eyes closed as she made a wish. My father leaned over and fastened a necklace with a large pink gemstone around her neck. My mother was busy snapping photos. And Adrian stood ready with a confetti cannon. The moment she blew out the candles, they all cheered, wishing her a happy birthday. Surrounded by their love, Lila looked like a true princess. For a second, I thought I saw her glance my way, a triumphant, mocking smile on her face. But I dismissed it. My stomach was cramping from two days without food. The hunger was unbearable. I closed my eyes, trying to will myself to sleep. Maybe if I slept, the pain would go away. Just as I was drifting off, a splash of ice-cold water shocked me awake. I gasped, shivering violently. Lila stood over me, a cruel smirk on her face. “It really is you,” she sneered. “I had them make your life a living hell, and you’re still not dead? You’re tougher than a cockroach.” My heart seized. So it was true. She was behind everything at the orphanage. She crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m the Gould heiress now. And you? You’re nothing but trash on the street.” She was right. What could I do? No one would believe me. No one would take my side. The pain in my bones was a deep, insistent throb. I had no energy left to fight. It didn’t matter anymore. I could be dead at any moment. If I just stayed quiet, maybe she would leave me alone to get through the night. But seeing me so passive, so unlike the fighter I used to be, seemed to bother her. She knelt in front of me, her brow furrowed. “What’s this? Trying to look pathetic? Hoping Mom and Dad will see you and feel sorry enough to take you home?” A cold laugh escaped her lips, the dimples in her cheeks deepening as her voice turned venomous. “Let’s just see who they feel sorry for.” Before I could react, her hand shot out. There was a glint of metal. She plunged the knife deep into my thigh. A scream tore from my throat as a blinding, all-consuming pain nearly made me pass out. My body’s instinct was to push her away, but before my hands even reached her, she threw herself backward, tumbling down the short flight of steps behind her. “Ahh! Dad! Mom! Adrian, it hurts!” she shrieked, her delicate cries easily overpowering my pained gasps. Through a blur of agony, I saw the three of them in the restaurant window turn their heads in an instant. They scrambled from their table and ran across the street. Adrian reached her first, scooping her into his arms, his face a mask of panic as he asked what happened. My parents were right behind, fussing over her, checking for injuries while dialing for an ambulance. Cradled in Adrian’s arms, Lila’s face was streaked with tears. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “I… I thought I saw someone who looked like Aria, so I came out… I wanted her to celebrate with me, but then…” Following her gaze, the three of them finally looked up and saw me, a crumpled heap in the darkness. My parents froze, their eyes filled with a storm of unreadable emotions. Adrian’s gaze, which had been full of adoration for Lila, turned on me, sharp and filled with visceral hatred. I stared back at the three people who once cherished me more than anything, who now looked at me as if I were their mortal enemy. The physical agony ignited years of buried grief. I held up a hand, trying to explain, a desperate sliver of hope still flickering within me. “I didn’t do anything to her. She’s the one who hurt me! Please… just believe me this once…” My words were cut short by the sharp crack of Adrian’s hand across my face. “Aria! You followed us here, lured Lila out, and attacked her on her birthday, and now you have the gall to blame her for it?” My father’s face was dark with rage, his eyes holding nothing but profound disappointment. “Will you not stop until Lila is dead? After all these years, lying is still the only thing you’ve learned!” My hand trembled as I touched my stinging cheek. The pain was excruciating. But all I could do was laugh, a wild, broken sound. It was always like this. My own parents. My own brother. They couldn’t see my emaciated frame. They couldn’t see the blood soaking through my pants. All they saw was Lila, their perfect, blameless angel. I should have known better than to hope. I dropped my head, my voice numb as I spoke to Adrian. “If I don’t make it through the night, will you come get my body?” He let out a short, contemptuous laugh, his eyes filled with scorn. “That would be for the best. Then we’d never have to worry about you hurting Lila again.” His absolute indifference hollowed out the last part of my soul. Suddenly, death didn’t seem so terrifying. “Promise me you will,” I whispered. So I don’t scare anyone else. He didn’t spare me another glance. The ambulance had arrived, and he was busy helping place a weeping Lila onto the stretcher. As she was being loaded in, my mother cast a worried look in my direction. “Adrian, something’s wrong with Aria. Don’t you think… don’t you think we’ve been too hard on her?” My brother snorted. “It’s all an act. How could we be too hard on her? A lesson like this is too light for what she deserves.” The ambulance pulled away, leaving me alone on the street like a piece of garbage. My head grew heavy. As fireworks celebrating the new year painted the sky, the world went dark… The news broke early the next morning. [At dawn on New Year’s Day, sanitation workers on Prosperity Avenue discovered the frozen body of a young woman. The deceased has been identified as a resident from the local orphanage, Aria Gould!]

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