Category: English

My daughter, Jolie, was born with a startling, almost mythical genetic Polycoria —a rare condition that made her irises appear strangely duplicated. It had terrified Stella’s freshly returned ghost of first love, Liam. In a fit of panicked, cruel deference to him, Stella had hired an eye specialist to remove the eyes. I knelt in the driving rain for three days and three nights, begging her not to do this to our child. But Stella had simply looped her arm through Liam’s, looking down at me as if I were a stain. “I’m helping Jolie, Marcus,” she’d said. “It’s better to be blind than to be called a freak and a monster, isn’t it?” “Having her eyes removed won’t kill her. I can just get her a pair of high-end prosthetics afterward.” The moment Jolie’s surgery was over, Liam called the doctor away, complaining that his own eyes were dry and strained. When I burst into the operating room, my daughter had already stopped breathing, her tiny body ravaged by infection. After covering Jolie with a white sheet, I pulled out my phone and dialed my father-in-law, George Hawthorne. “Five years ago, you saved my life. When the Hawthorne Group faced ruin, I honored that debt by joining your family with a colossal half-a-billion-dollar investment. My daughter is now dead. You and I are officially even.” 1. Blood seeped continuously from Jolie’s hollowed-out eye sockets. I clutched her small, thin body and kowtowed to the doctor, pleading with him to save my daughter one more time. The doctor’s face was etched with unbearable pity. “Mr. Ashworth, the child is gone. Please, accept my condolences.” I had heard that sentence countless times. Now, my heart went cold, fading along with the last remnants of my daughter’s body heat. George Hawthorne arrived, late and breathless. He saw me, collapsed and cradling my daughter on the hospital floor, and his expression twisted in shock and rage. “Marcus, what in God’s name happened? Jolie, she—” The grief in my chest was so immense that no sound could escape. The doctor standing nearby felt compelled to speak up. “The child’s eyes were brutally removed. The fresh wounds were left unattended, leading to a massive infection. We did everything we could, but…” Those few words summed up the cause of her death. Yet, all I could see in my mind was the terrifying image of Jolie strapped to the operating table, screaming, “Daddy! Daddy!” I couldn’t believe Stella could be so utterly ruthless—that she wouldn’t even allow the doctor to tend to the child’s wounds. George swayed, clutching the wall to stay upright. His hands clenched into fists, and he slammed them against the sterile white paint. “I never thought the daughter I raised with such indulgence could have such a viperous heart!” The words had barely left his lips when Stella’s personal assistant walked in with a strawberry cake. He casually placed it on a chair in the corridor. “Ms. Hawthorne sent this as a reward for Jolie. She told me to tell Jolie that she is the bravest, most obedient child, her mother’s good girl.” George was trembling with fury. He snatched up the cake and hurled it directly into the assistant’s face. “That wretch ruined her own daughter! And now she sends a reward? Tell her to get over here right now!” The assistant was silent, terrified. George had no choice but to call Stella himself. When she picked up, her voice sounded slightly annoyed. “Dad, did Marcus run to you to complain?” “Liam said children with the anomaly bring a curse on the family. I’ve already arranged for a custom-made, high-end pair of prosthetic eyes. Once she has them, everything will be fine.” Hearing Stella’s casual dismissal, a fresh wave of blinding fury surged through me. “Jolie was the child you carried for nine months! Stella, how can you speak with such brutal indifference!?” She became instantly impatient. “Marcus, are you going to be tiresome? I know Jolie suffered, but I sent a cake over, didn’t I? Liam and I are busy with our own baby’s prenatal care every day. Can you stop bothering me with these petty issues?” My eyes fell on the ruined cake splattered on the floor. Stella always bought strawberry cake when she wanted to placate Jolie. But I had told her countless times: Jolie was severely allergic to strawberries. She never remembered. Jolie’s body was completely cold now. I carefully lifted her, rising to my feet. Blood dripped steadily from her eye sockets, like long, continuous streams of tears. Seeing this sight, George’s legs instantly gave way, and he fell to his knees with a loud thud. Panic and terror clouded his face. Thick, miserable tears poured down his cheeks. “Marcus, this disaster—it’s the fault of the animal I raised!” “I will teach her a lesson she’ll never forget. Please, for the sake of the years you spent with Stella, and for what you did for the Hawthorne Group, forgive us this one time…” I couldn’t hold back my own tears any longer. They fell, warm and stinging, onto Jolie’s pale, blood-flecked face. Five years ago, to repay George for saving my life, I brought that colossal investment to the company and even agreed to an arranged marriage, joining the family as the son-in-law to ensure a steady stream of business. After the wedding, Stella and I were polite strangers, sharing no real spark. I had foolishly believed that with a child, our family of three would finally find happiness. Instead, my child met this miserable, cruel death. And Stella, her own mother, was already eagerly anticipating the birth of the other man’s child. I held Jolie’s corpse tighter, looking down with cold indifference at George’s pleading face. “If it weren’t for Jolie, I would have walked away from the Hawthornes years ago. Now she is gone. The debt is paid. I have no further ties to your family.” 2. I left the hospital and personally buried Jolie. I cut a lock of her hair and wove it into the wristband she loved to wear. It was the only tangible memory I allowed myself to keep. George looked devastated. After a long silence, he begged me not to completely erase Jolie’s name from the Hawthorne family records. I agreed. After all, a part of her did share their blood. After settling Jolie’s affairs, I carried her small wooden memorial pendant back to the Hawthorne manor to pack my belongings. The moment I stepped through the door, I saw Stella and Liam lounging together on a sun-drenched chaise lounge. And what they were fiddling with in their hands were Jolie’s eyes, preserved and mounted. “I heard the anomaly wards off evil. Is that true?” Stella asked, her voice soft and lazy. Liam leaned down and kissed her, his tone tender. “Of course. I’ve been researching ancient texts to protect you and our baby. And I found this remedy. The anomaly is so rare, but of course, Jolie had a perfect set!” As he spoke, he jabbed a needle and thread through one of the orbs. He was stringing the two eye-orbs together with a few pearls, crafting a small, delicate bracelet. Watching them treat my daughter’s eyes like grotesque toys, I felt my heart violently tear apart inside my chest. My rasping, ragged breath finally drew their attention. I moved toward them like a wounded animal. Stella looked at me, a flash of pure annoyance in her eyes. “What are you doing back?” Her gaze dropped to the small pendant in my arms. “Why are you carrying a memorial pendant? That’s utterly bad luck! Get that thing out of my house!” “Marcus Ashworth, why do you constantly have to create drama? You know I’m carrying Liam’s child, so you’re deliberately trying to upset me, aren’t you? I’m warning you, it won’t work! Everything the Hawthorne Group owns belongs to Liam’s child!” “As for Jolie, if she’s willing to call Liam ‘Dad’ and properly respect us in the future, I might even set up a trust fund for her so she’ll be comfortable.” Hearing her speak of Jolie like this, the grief and rage inside me threatened to become uncontrollable. Since Jolie was born, Stella had never once looked her in the eye. Even at her young age, Jolie had sensed her mother’s disgust. Every night, she would hold my hand and whisper her cautious questions: “Daddy, is Jolie too demanding? Is that why Mommy doesn’t like me?” “I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll do whatever Mommy says. Can you ask her to come see me, just for a minute?” Thinking of it now, Jolie’s innocent words felt like sharpened knives, stabbing my already tattered heart. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to suppress the searing pain. I just wanted to grab my things and leave, now. But Stella wasn’t finished with me. “Marcus, are you speechless?” “You walk around here like some successful scion, fooling my father completely. Now you can’t say a word? And where is Jolie? Bring her out! She’s probably not learning anything good from you, her father. Maybe we should just let Liam raise her from now on!” She invoked Jolie’s name one time too many. I lost all control of my temper. My hand lashed out, and I slapped her across the face. “You don’t deserve to say her name!” Stella clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “Marcus Ashworth! You dare to hit me? I swear I will make sure you never see Jolie again!” I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling against the devastating sorrow. “Jolie is dead. You can’t threaten me. I will never see her again anyway!” Stella froze, slowly knitting her brows. “What did you say?” I repeated the words, flatly. Just as Stella opened her mouth to speak again, Liam finally stepped forward, his expression grave. “Marcus, we hired the very best surgeon for Jolie.” “I know you’re upset about the procedure, but you can’t use your own daughter’s life as a weapon to deceive Stella.” 3. “Marcus Ashworth, you don’t deserve to be a father!” The flicker of doubt on Stella’s face vanished, replaced by cold certainty. “You’re just afraid that the baby Liam and I are having will cut into Jolie’s inheritance, aren’t you? You always pretended to be the heir to some hidden dynasty, but you’re just a leech who used the Hawthorne family wealth! You’re just a son-in-law who refuses to leave!” “I’m telling you now, as long as I’m here, you will never get what you want!” She gently stroked her stomach, a soft, tender look entering her eyes. “Everything here belongs to Liam and me.” “If my father hadn’t forced me to marry you back then, Liam and I would have been together years ago. Now, we’re simply getting things back on track!” With that, she didn’t spare me another look. She took Liam’s hand and walked away. She seemed to have forgotten the truth: Liam was the one who abandoned her, moving abroad with another woman. Stella had been utterly devastated, falling into a severe depression, leading to repeated acts of self-harm. I had stayed by her side to protect her, even taking the blade for her when she spiraled. To this day, my body bears the scars from her moments of emotional breakdown. Later, she would cry as she traced those scars, swearing she would be with me forever. But Liam’s return shattered everything. Stella’s resentment for me surfaced. She started staying out all night. She even brought Liam into our house on countless nights. The memory made my stomach clench with a rising nausea. I rushed into the house and quickly stuffed my clothes into a suitcase. Just as I was about to walk out, Liam appeared, blocking my path. He glanced at my luggage with contempt. “Open it. The diamond necklace Stella and I bought for our baby is missing. I suspect you stole it.” I looked at him and let out a cold, bitter laugh. “If you want a confrontation, just say so. Don’t use such a pathetic excuse.” Liam merely raised an eyebrow. With a swift hand gesture, two bodyguards materialized behind him. The hulking men marched up to me, grabbing my arm and twisting it sharply backward. A sickening snap of splintering bone exploded in my ear. I cried out in raw pain. Liam pointed at my waist and commanded in a cold voice, “Open his suitcase for me!” I violently widened my eyes, struggling with all my might. Seeing my desperate fight, Liam scowled and personally joined the two bodyguards, pinning me down hard onto the floor. I watched, helpless, as my suitcase was violently ripped open. Jolie’s small, wooden memorial pendant hit the hardwood floor with a sharp crack. Her name glared up at everyone present. Stella, rushing in after hearing the commotion, saw the pendant. Her expression instantly shifted. “Marcus Ashworth, you actually dared to write your daughter’s name on a memorial pendant!?” 4. Stella’s face was dark with anger. She marched forward and slapped me hard across the face with the back of her hand. “How dare you? You’re the child’s father! How can you do such a thing!?” “Liam is about to be a father, and he thinks every day about how to protect his child. And you? You’re cursing your own daughter to death!”

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Chapter 1 “Five hundred dollars for my year-end bonus. And you expect me to be grateful?” Brenda, the HR manager, managed to keep her corporate smile glued to her face. I’d been at this company for eight years. I had written over a million lines of code—1.27 million, to be exact—that powered three of our core systems. The bonus? Only five hundred bucks??? “Jenna, you have to understand the company’s current restructuring difficulties…” I laughed. I took a sheet of paper from my bag and laid it on the desk in front of her. My resignation letter. Dated today. 1. Brenda stared at the letter, speechless for a good five seconds. “Jenna, don’t do anything rash.” “I’m not being rash,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” Eight years. From the day I walked in fresh out of my Master’s program, it had been eight years. I was the 7th Employee. I’d been here longer than most of the current management. Back then, the company was crammed into a shabby downtown office suite—less than 200 square feet. Summers were hell without AC. Winters were just as bad. The very first line of code I ever wrote for them is probably still running somewhere. “You know if you walk out now, you forfeit your bonus, right?” Brenda said. “Five hundred dollars,” I replied. “Keep it.” Brenda’s expression finally cracked. “Jenna, I know you feel slighted, but you need to see the bigger picture—” “Brenda,” I cut her off. “Do you know how much overtime I logged last month?” She didn’t answer. “One hundred and eighty-seven hours,” I said. “That’s an average of six hours a day, every day. No overtime pay, no compensatory time off. Not even a simple ‘thank you.’” “Look, the truth is… we have a cultural issue with work-life balance…” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “The issue is that you decided my dedication was your birthright.” Brenda opened her mouth, then closed it again, finding no defense. I stood up. “What’s the process for resigning?” “Are you… are you absolutely sure about this?” “I am.” Brenda looked at me, her eyes clouded with something complex—pity, maybe, or simple inconvenience. “You should know, you were on the restructuring list.” I paused. “Excuse me?” “The current round of downsizing. You were on the list,” Brenda said quietly. “You were slated as number one.” I stared at her, thinking the fluorescent lights in the office were messing with my hearing. “Number one?” “Yes.” “The reason?” Brenda looked down at her hands, avoiding my gaze. “Easily replaceable.” The phrase felt like a knife blade, driven deep into my chest. Easily replaceable. Me? The person who built the entire payment processing system from the ground up? The one who had maintained three mission-critical modules, alone, for eight years? The one who was called at 3 a.m. to fix a bug, then showed up to work the next morning, never taking a single sick day? Easily replaceable? A strange, cold laugh escaped me. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s see you try.” Brenda looked up, a flicker of genuine panic in her eyes. “Jenna, what do you mean?” “It means nothing,” I said, picking up my bag. “The letter is on your desk. Start the paperwork.” “Wait, I need—” I didn’t wait. I pushed the door open and walked out. The hallway was quiet. The late afternoon sun slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the wall where the corporate values were displayed in large, modern script. “Innovation Through Synergy.” “A Culture of Gratitude.” “People-First Mindset.” The words were a brutal, hollow joke. Eight years. I’d poured my youth, my time, my entire self into this company. What did I get in return? A corporate death sentence: Easily replaceable. I drew a deep breath and kept moving. As I passed the break room, I heard voices. “I hear they’re cutting twenty percent this quarter.” “Seriously? Did the list leak?” “Yeah, I heard Jenna Su in Tech is the first one out.” “Jenna? The quiet one? The wizard who does all the payment stuff?” “That’s the one. She’s like, the old guard, right? Eight years?” “How did she end up first?” “I heard her leader, Blake, pushed for it. Said she was ‘easily replaceable.’” “Her? Easily replaceable? That’s insane.” “Who knows. Whatever the bosses say goes, I guess.” I stood outside the doorway, unseen. The gossip continued. “She handles the payment architecture, doesn’t she?” “Payment, risk management, the clearing system… I don’t know the specifics.” “So what happens to all those systems?” “No idea, but Blake said it’s fine. They’ll hire someone to take it over fast.” “Right. Good luck with that.” I’d heard enough. I walked back to my cube, opened my laptop, and began to clean out my digital life. Eight years of files, emails, and code logs. I wouldn’t take a single thing that belonged to the company. But I was taking something far more valuable: me. My ability. My experience. The holistic understanding of how this brittle, complex architecture actually worked. That wasn’t on any server. It was in my head. They said I was easily replaceable? Let the replacement begin. 2. As I packed up my files, the past eight years flashed in my mind. I had my Master’s degree from a top-tier university and walked into a thirty-person startup in 2016. Marcus, the current CTO, was the one who interviewed me. He didn’t have so much silver hair back then, and he certainly wasn’t so slick. “Jenna,” he’d said, leaning forward. “We’re small, but we have a vision. Join us, and let’s build something massive together.” I bought in. On my first day, I was assigned to the Payment Team. The Payment Team was just me. “The payment system is the core,” Marcus told me. “You have to get it right.” I asked, “Just me?” “Just you for now. When the next round of funding comes through, we’ll build out the team.” I waited eight years. The team remained a single chair. The payment system went from zero to a functioning reality, then to a massive piece of infrastructure, all through lines of code typed by my fingers. As the business grew, they piled on the Risk Management and Clearing systems. No one else was available, so it defaulted to me. I became a one-woman maintenance crew for three core systems. System crashing at 3 a.m.? My problem. Major bug on a holiday weekend? My vacation canceled. Urgent new feature deployment? I handled the rollout. I can’t count the number of times a phone call dragged me out of deep sleep. I’d open my laptop, bleary-eyed, fix the fire, and when the sun rose, I’d be back in the office for a regular day. No extra pay. No time off. No acknowledgment of the sacrifice. Because to everyone, that was just Jenna. Jenna always handles it, right? Jenna won’t say no. Jenna has no life outside of work. It was true. I had no life. I had a relationship once. He broke up with me because I was never available—always on call, always canceling. My parents harassed me about getting married. I told them I was too busy to date. They accused me of being a cold daughter. I missed every friend gathering, perpetually tethered to my phone, ready for the next catastrophic bug. I gave them all my time. What did they give me? 2018: The company’s first VC round, valuation $200 million. My bonus: $1,000. 2020: Second round of funding, valuation $1 billion. My bonus: $1,500. 2022: The IPO, market cap $5 billion. My bonus: $2,000. 2024: Now. Market cap $8 billion. My bonus: $500. It made no sense. The company grew exponentially, but my share of the pie shrunk. I tried to question it. Brenda (HR) said, “Jenna, times are tight. We’re all saving our budgets.” I said, “But I read the press release. Last year’s profits grew thirty percent.” She just smiled thinly. “The news, you know, can be… inflated.” I went to my leader, Blake. Blake was an external hire who came on two years ago. He was polished, had an impressive résumé from a top company, couldn’t write a line of code to save his life, but was a genius at upward management. “Jenna,” he told me. “Your problem is you don’t manage up. You do great work, but the execs don’t see it. You need to articulate your impact.” I countered, “I write weekly reports, monthly summaries, and I email a full debrief after every major deployment.” “That’s not the same,” he’d said dismissively. “Your reports are too technical. The C-suite doesn’t read code. You need to learn to speak their language—the language of strategy and vision.” I fell silent. He was right. I wasn’t a polished talker. I was a coder. But wasn’t coding valuable? Without my code, how did this billion-dollar company function? Without my eight years of sacrifice, where was their $8 billion market cap? I didn’t get it. It wasn’t until I saw my annual performance review that I finally understood. My rating: B. B meant “Meets Expectations.” Neither bad nor good. My bonus multiplier: 0.5. Blake, my leader, who had been here two years? His rating was S. S was the highest tier. His bonus multiplier: 2.0. What did he do in two years? He reformatted my weekly reports and sent them up. He added a glossy cover page to my technical proposals and sent them up. He repackaged the results of my code and sent them up. Oh, and he did one truly momentous thing: He changed the color of a button on our checkout screen. From blue to green. He reported that single action three times and won an “Innovation Award” for improving the user experience. I wrote 1.27 million lines of code: B rating. He changed a button color: S rating. That was the true value system of this company. That was their “People-First Mindset.” 3. I thought I had reached peak disillusionment. Then I saw the optimization list. Brenda hadn’t meant for me to see it, of course. It was my own discovery. I’d gone to her desk at lunch to ask about vacation payout specifics. Her screen was unlocked, showing a spreadsheet. “Q4 2024 Organizational Restructuring List.” My name was in the first row. The comments section was brutal: “Suggested Rationale for Optimization: Long tenure, severe wage compression, easily replaceable.” “Recommender: Blake Chen.” I stared at the words, my heart hammering against my ribs. Wage compression. It was true. My salary was low. In eight years, my starting salary of $60,000 had only climbed to $120,000. Meanwhile, a new grad, fresh out of college, was starting at $100,000. Interns I had personally mentored were now getting paid more than me after their first year. My former mentees were now team leaders in other divisions, earning double my salary. I’d asked for a raise every year. Every year, the request was rejected. The reasons were a rotating script: “The market is soft this year.” “The budget is too tight.” “Hang in there, we’ll look at a major adjustment next year.” I waited eight years. I waited for the payoff, and instead, I got the label: Severe wage compression. And the final, killing blow: Easily replaceable. The irony was acidic. I was the single point of failure. I was the only person in the entire organization who understood the end-to-end logic of the payment architecture. I was the only one capable of bringing down-system back up at 3 a.m. I was the only person alive who knew the history of every spaghetti-code legacy bug. Easily replaceable? Where would they find another Jenna? But I didn’t challenge anyone. I just went back to my desk and continued organizing my files. At 3 p.m., Blake came over. “Jenna, I hear you put in your notice?” “I did.” “Don’t be hasty,” he said, adopting a tone of benevolent concern. “It’s the end of the year. If you walk, you forfeit your bonus entirely.”

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My parents said they didn’t have the energy to raise two kids. So, they took my younger sister and moved to the city, leaving me and my grandmother behind in a rundown house in the countryside. Over a decade passed. They had everything now. But they forgot about me and Grandma. When I called, they brushed me off with vague excuses. My sister, raised like a princess, became an influencer. To gain followers, she spread rumors that I was the golden child, the one our parents favored. When angry netizens stormed our old home to confront me, they didn’t know I had already fallen into the swollen river while picking fruit for my family. I was long dead. In the morgue, my parents cried as if their hearts were being ripped out. “I’m dead. Now my sister is their only daughter. Why do they regret it?” 1 “Guys… even though Mom and Dad only love my sister, and even though she bullies me, they are still my family… blood is thicker than water!” “I’m not sad. I have to go cook dinner for my parents later to apologize. I shouldn’t be inconsiderate of my sister.” On the phone screen, my sister, Chloe, was crying beautifully, her makeup impeccable. She was live-streaming, telling her followers how much she had suffered growing up. How her older sister forced her to boil water for noodles, resulting in burns… How her parents secretly gave her sister snacks and not her… How her sister framed her, causing her to be beaten by their parents… Chloe told the stories with vivid detail, and the viewer count kept climbing. Everyone in the chat was cursing my parents and me. But what they didn’t know was that these stories were true—except the roles were reversed. I was the one being bullied. I wanted to rush over and argue with her. But my hand passed right through her shoulder. No matter how loud I screamed or tried to explain to the screen, it was useless. My hand only ruffled Chloe’s glossy, well-maintained hair. I looked at my own palms. There was no river mud, no cuts from picking fruit. I stared blankly. So, I really was dead… I remembered not long ago, the apricots in the mountains had ripened. My parents and sister hadn’t come back for the holidays in years. But this time, Grandma said they were definitely coming. I was so happy I couldn’t sleep. Before dawn, I grabbed a basket and went to pick apricots. I hadn’t spent much time with my parents or sister. I didn’t know what they liked or what they needed. But dried apricots were the best treat I knew. You can’t go wrong with good food! So, I tirelessly picked basket after basket. Dew soaked my clothes, branches scratched my hands, but I didn’t feel tired… As I headed home with a full basket, the surging river water from the flood season washed away the small bridge. I fell in. I bobbed up and down, screaming for help, but the roar of the water drowned out my voice. Finally, I sank to the bottom, vanishing as if I had never existed… “Guys, I have to go now! I have to cook for my sister and parents.” Chloe closed her laptop and walked out of the simple room that only had a bed. Outside, it was spacious and luxurious. I had never seen such a beautiful house. It had multiple floors! Compared to the house I lived in with Grandma, this place looked like a palace. Yes! Such a big house, so beautiful. But there wasn’t a single room for me or Grandma. Even though I was their child too! Even though I needed their care too. When they took my sister out of the mountains, they promised they would come back for us. But… they seemed to have forgotten that promise. Forgotten that they had another daughter who looked at the stars every night, counting the days until our reunion… “Sweetie, you’re done streaming? What do you want to eat today?” “I don’t have much of an appetite. Let’s go for Italian.” Outside the door, Mom and Dad had been waiting for a long time. They carefully helped Chloe change out of her “poor girl” costume into a beautiful designer dress. “Chloe looks so good in this! If Harper wore it, her dark skin would make it look terrible!” “With all those calluses on her hands, she’d ruin the fabric!” “Harper is nothing compared to Chloe! Not even a single strand of her hair!” They chatted happily, not forgetting to belittle me. Watching them drive away in their luxury car, my nose stung. Yeah! My hands were rough, my skin dark from the sun. I wanted to be like my sister too. But if I didn’t work the fields under the scorching sun, Grandma and I would have starved to death in the mountains. My dark skin, my thin frame, my callused hands—they all told the story of their bias. 2 Over the past few days, I tried to leave this house, but failed. I couldn’t leave them. I finally fulfilled my wish of living with Mom and Dad. Just not while I was alive. And it turned out, Mom and Dad didn’t seem to love me in their hearts either. For days, they talked about Chloe constantly, rarely mentioning me. I was the contrast to their precious daughter, the punchline when conversation lulled. They attacked my appearance, saying I was like a block of wood with no thoughts or emotions. Calling me a country bumpkin who would just get married early and have kids… Chloe’s social media account exploded because of the “parents favor the older sister” gimmick. Now, Chloe was rubbing her forehead, struggling to come up with the next video idea. Mom and Dad were brainstorming beside her. Pfft! Beside me, Mom suddenly burst out laughing. Chloe rolled her eyes in annoyance, wanting to leave but stopped by Dad. “Hahahaha! Chloe, do you remember the dried apricots Harper gave us? We still haven’t finished them! That bumpkin thought dried apricots were the best thing in the world! Hahahaha…” The whole family burst into laughter. Only me, my face pale. So, they didn’t like dried apricots. Why didn’t they tell me earlier? Maybe then I wouldn’t have lost my life… For those apricots, Grandma and I guarded them day and night. Worried about rain, worried about bugs. Just so they could eat something good. “So they don’t like them…” I murmured, blood tears rolling down my cheeks, making my pale face look even more terrifying. Even though I had become numb to them over the past few days, their words still pierced my heart like swords. Day by day, I watched how Mom and Dad loved this sister. She had bad grades and couldn’t get into high school, so they hired the best piano teacher to tutor her, planning to send her abroad as an art student. I was always in the top ten of my school. My teacher said I was the most likely student to get into a top university. But when I timidly asked them for money for tutoring, they claimed business was tight and couldn’t even spare five hundred dollars. She wanted to be an influencer, so they brainstormed ideas for her. At the amusement park, Chloe was bored with the rides. She reluctantly looked up for photos. I stared wide-eyed at the rides I had only seen on TV. When I was little, they promised to take me to the amusement park if I got perfect scores. But in the end, my certificates covered the wall, and they rarely praised me. Eventually, they stopped visiting altogether. They gave all their love to Chloe, forgetting to leave a little for me. They always said working in the city was hard, that bringing a child along was troublesome. They said it would be hard for whoever they brought. But they chose to bring the youngest, Chloe. What about me? What was I? 3 “Our Chloe was praised by her teacher again! He said she learns piano so fast!” “Chloe has fair skin, she needs to wear designer clothes!” “Chloe…” At dinner parties, Mom and Dad bragged endlessly to their business partners about how excellent Chloe was. Chloe didn’t give them face, sitting on the side playing games and swearing. But in my parents’ eyes, Chloe was cute no matter what. They hid my existence. Few of their partners knew about me. “Hey, Joe… Chloe is great, but your older daughter Harper is also good, right?” “Joe, you have another daughter? Why haven’t I heard you mention her?” “Why bring her up? Ruining such a good day! Are you doing this on purpose?” Smash! Mom threw her wine glass to the ground, shattering it. Her hysterical screaming silenced everyone. The air froze. No one knew why mentioning the older daughter would trigger such a reaction. “Sorry! Everyone, she drank too much. Please enjoy your meal, we’re leaving!” Dad smiled apologetically while dragging Mom out. The family fled in embarrassment, leaving whispers behind. “Harper is such a jinx!” “She ruined the good mood today!” “Why doesn’t she just die?!” In the car, the family blamed me for Mom’s outburst. I listened quietly. Today I truly felt how much of a disgrace my existence was to them. I was like a stain they tried their best to cover up. Thinking of this, I felt a bit happy. I even smiled. Now that I was dead, I wouldn’t be an eyesore to them anymore. And I wouldn’t make them eat dried apricots they hated. They would be happy, right? “Wow! Mom, Dad, you’re so good to me!” “You’re our child. We have the means now, who else would we treat well?” The next day, Chloe was blindfolded and taken to a large apartment. The decoration was in her favorite style, filled with clothes and toys. This was the apartment they bought for Chloe. Her graduation gift. Chloe said thank you for once. Moved to tears, my parents posted on social media about how their daughter was sensible and grateful. I stood by a pile of toys and dresses, reaching out to touch them. But my hand passed through, feeling nothing. Soft or hard? Thin or thick? Warm to wear? These clothes, I couldn’t wear in life, and couldn’t touch in death. Just like my parents’ love. Overflowing, but not for me. It always flowed to those who didn’t lack love. And I was still fantasizing that Mom and Dad would find a conscience and care about me a little. Wearing my old, ill-fitting blue shirt, I fell into the turbulent river that day. From beginning to end, I drowned in the cold water, unnoticed. I started to worry about Grandma. That small, thin old woman who saved all the good food for me. She loved me more than anyone. Maybe she was the only person in the world who still cared about me. But she had Alzheimer’s, which had gotten worse over the years. When I went to school or out, I always locked her inside. I wondered if she was hungry now, if she had a moment of clarity and realized I was gone. It was late summer, and it rained constantly in the mountains. The old house leaked, and Grandma would groan in pain, holding her rheumatic knees. The suffering Grandma and I endured, they ignored. To Mom and Dad, it seemed less important than what Chloe would eat tomorrow.

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1 It was the second year of Jason’s supposed return to our family, two years after I’d first discovered his affair. The shattered bones in my right hand, the hand of a surgeon, had finally started to knit back together. I was cleared for duty, back within the sterile, familiar walls of Metropolitan General Hospital. But on my very first day back, I ran into her. Bella. The woman who had fractured my marriage. She was lowering herself awkwardly from an ultrasound table, her belly swollen, ripe with a full-term pregnancy. The moment the curtain was pulled aside, my eyes locked with Jason’s. His hand, steadying Bella, froze for a fraction of a second. His gaze darted away, unable to meet mine. Without a word, I turned and walked out. I went straight to the admissions desk and scheduled a procedure for myself. Termination of an early-stage pregnancy. This twisted, tangled mess of years… it was time to finally cut the cord. … I stood there, a statue in a white coat, my chest tightening until I could barely breathe. My mind was a blizzard of white noise. My first instinct was to flee, but Jason’s voice, sharp and loud, stopped me in my tracks. “Ava!” At the sound of my name, Bella let out a startled cry and crumpled to the floor. “Jason… something’s wrong… my stomach…” The hand he’d started to reach out to me snapped back. He rushed to her side, all frantic concern. I watched, a cold, detached observer in my own life’s wreckage. “What kind of doctor just stands there?” a voice muttered from the growing crowd. “Look at her, frozen like a statue. A pregnant woman is on the floor, and she’s not lifting a finger.” The commotion drew a small crowd, phones already emerging to capture the drama. Jason shielded Bella with his body, her pale, tear-streaked face pressed against his back. “Ava… it’s not what you think… I didn’t…” he started, his voice a low plea. Bella peeked around him, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Dr. Ross, it wasn’t his fault, I swear. It was me. I couldn’t leave him alone. Please… don’t blame him, please?” A sharp pain lanced through my head, but with it came a chilling clarity. I walked toward them, each step deliberate, and slapped her across the face. The sound was a clean, sharp crack in the hospital corridor. “Is screwing another woman’s husband some kind of addiction for you, Bella?” I asked, my voice dripping with the venom I’d suppressed for years. She staggered, grabbing my hand, refusing to let go, her lips forming pleas for forgiveness. That’s when Jason finally snapped. He yanked me away from her and shoved me, hard. I slammed onto the cold, unforgiving tile floor. “Ava! Have you lost your mind? Can’t you see she’s pregnant, about to give birth?!” he roared, his face a mask of fury. “Where’s your humanity? Where’s your goddamn compassion? The baby is innocent!” My head hit the ground with a sickening thud, the world ringing in my ears. Warm blood trickled from my forehead, catching in my eyelashes, staining my vision crimson. But the years of hatred and rage coalesced into a single, burning point of focus. I gritted my teeth, pushing myself up. “You want to talk about time and place?” I spat, the words tasting of blood. “Did you think about ‘time and place’ when you were tearing the clothes off this slut? Did you think about my feelings every time you swore you’d changed, every time you promised our family came first?” I staggered to my feet, a phantom ache flaring up in my right hand, the one he had already broken. This sham of a marriage should have ended long ago. It should have ended three years ago. The day he shoved me down a flight of stairs—costing me our first child—just so Bella could steal the credit for my research paper. It should have ended when he used my ruined hand as leverage, forcing me to perform surgery on Bella’s mother. It should have ended when he desecrated my parents’ final resting place, scattering their ashes to the wind just to get me to pull some strings for her mother. I remembered the surgeon’s words after my tenth operation, the phrase seared into my memory. “I’m sorry, Dr. Ross. It’s highly unlikely you’ll ever hold a scalpel again.” I should have filed for divorce right then, in the depths of that living hell. I regret not doing it sooner. My whole body trembled. My back, my chest, and now a dull, heavy ache in my lower abdomen. The sight of me, bloodied and shaking, seemed to finally penetrate Jason’s rage. He reached a hand out, then let it hover in the air, uncertain. He couldn’t look me in the eye. His tone softened, an old, familiar attempt to placate me. “Ava… why do you have to be like this… so… dramatic?” “I promise you,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Once the baby is born, I’ll never see her again. Okay?” “It’s my fault. I just… I didn’t know you’d be at the hospital today.” He knelt, trying to help me up. The guilt in his eyes looked almost real, but Bella’s staged sobs in the background were a constant, grating reminder of the truth. He had cheated. Again. My right hand drifted to my stomach, a sudden, damp warmth spreading through my clothes. He didn’t know. The next patient scheduled for an ultrasound was me. It was my fault. My fault for believing a man like him could ever change. My fault for being so foolish as to conceive a child in the ruins of our life. Tears I didn’t know I was holding back streamed down my face. “We’re getting a divorce,” I said, my voice hollow. “And you will leave with nothing.” Meeting Jason had been an accident. His family’s empire had crumbled overnight, leaving him with nothing but his parents’ debts. He’d been stabbed by loan sharks, left for dead in a filthy alley, crawling his way onto the street when I found him. No one in the city would touch him. No one dared. But I was a doctor. My oath was to save lives. So I saved his. He called me his savior, the only light in his world. And then, with the life I’d given back to him, he rebuilt everything, creating a new empire from the ashes of the old one. When I wanted flowers, the entire hospital would be filled with them the next day. When I wanted love, he tattooed my name over his heart and filled the sky with drones spelling out his devotion for 520 consecutive days. When I wanted his time, he dropped everything, cancelled meetings, even skipped the anniversary of his parents’ deaths. Then came a car accident. Bella became his private nurse. And somehow, she moved from his hospital room right into his heart. Betrayal was just that simple. When I first found out, he fell to his knees before me. “Ava, she looks so much like you. I was coming out of anesthesia… I thought she was you!” Their on-again, off-again affair dragged on for a year. It started with secret meetings in hospital rooms after faked injuries and escalated to him bringing her into our home. It all came to a head when security footage caught her pushing me from a second-story balcony. I was five months pregnant. I lost the baby. Bella went to jail. And Jason, finally, came back to me. Or so I thought. It was clear now they’d never really been apart. … After scheduling the abortion, I left. It took a long time sitting in my car in the parking garage to still the shaking in my hands. Finally, I picked up my phone and called my lawyer. “Cole, that divorce petition you drafted for me last year? Let’s proceed.” “The grounds are the same. Adultery. We can prove cohabitation. And per the postnup he signed, I want everything. I want every single dollar he spent on his mistress back.” “Have the papers on my desk in three days.” As the car wound its way out of the garage, the cramping in my abdomen grew sharper, a relentless tide of pain. Maybe I wouldn’t need the surgery after all. Maybe this tiny, unformed life was already slipping away. I looked up just in time to see headlights. A deafening roar of metal on metal. The airbag exploded against me, but the force of the impact was too great. I was thrown from the car. “Help… someone…” I gasped, the world spinning. Before the shock could even register, another car, a pearl-white sedan, screeched to a halt, its tire inches from my head. My terror was a beat too slow. The car lurched forward. The tire rolled directly over my right hand. “AHHH!” The agony was instantaneous, absolute. I curled into a ball, but through a haze of pain, I saw her face in the driver’s seat. Bella. Her expression was a mask of triumphant fury. Her lips formed two words. “I win.” … I was bundled onto a stretcher like a broken doll, rushed from the ambulance to the OR. Through the fog, I could hear a frantic, weeping voice. “Jason… what do I do? What do I do?” “I was just trying to catch up to her! I just wanted to explain!” “I’ve screwed up so bad! Jason, you’ll protect me, won’t you?” “Jason, I can’t go back to jail! Our baby can’t grow up without a mother! Save me!” And then, cutting through the wail of the sirens and Bella’s desperate sobs, I heard Jason’s voice, deep and steady. “Don’t worry.” “I’ll handle everything.” For a moment, the physical pain vanished, replaced by the chilling echo of those two sentences. Jason. All these years… what a fucking joke. My life flashed before my eyes, a chaotic, nonsensical nightmare. But the cold sting of the anesthetic and the glint of the scalpel told me this was real. This was just one more cross I had to bear. “I’m sorry, Dr. Ross,” the surgeon told me later. “The chances of you regaining enough function to operate are now virtually zero. We’ll have to discuss alternative positions for you at the hospital.” “And… about the pregnancy… the trauma from the impact was too severe…” Before he could finish, Jason walked in, holding two documents. One was a liability waiver. The other was a statement, promising I would not press charges against Bella. I stared up at him, a sense of profound absurdity washing over me. I was fresh out of surgery, and he was already here, running interference for the woman who tried to kill me. He didn’t even have to speak. I snatched the papers from his hand and, ignoring the searing pain, tore them into confetti. “She did this to me, Jason! She deserves to pay for what she’s done!” “You want me to just let it go? Not a chance in hell!” I watched his expression shift from annoyance to cold, hard authority. His hand cracked across my face. The IV stand beside me wobbled and crashed to the floor. “Ava, why can’t you ever learn?” he snarled. “Bella has already apologized. Why can’t you just leave her alone?!” “She’s already been to prison once because of you! Are you trying to destroy her completely!?” “Do you have any decency? Any empathy?” “You’re just like them,” he spat, his voice filled with a sudden, chilling venom. “You’re just like the loan sharks who left me for dead in that alley. So self-righteous. So determined to burn everything to the ground.” I snapped. The last thread of my sanity broke. A year ago, after I’d saved his life, I’d been harassed by his creditors, kidnapped three times, and once, almost gang-raped. I had risked everything for him. And now he was comparing me to them. I launched myself at him, grabbing a shard of the broken IV bottle and swinging it at his head. But he was too strong. He caught my wrist, twisted my arm, and slammed me against the wall, his hand closing around my throat. “Your hand is already useless,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “You have no future as a surgeon.” “Let Bella go, and I won’t divorce you.” Security guards, nurses, and Bella herself rushed into the room, drawn by the commotion. Bella threw herself into Jason’s arms, sobbing. “Jason… don’t fight. Please don’t fight because of me. It’s not fair to me, it’s not fair to our baby!” Her crying grew more frantic, more hysterical. “I’ll go,” she wailed. “I’ll leave. I’ll disappear from your life forever. I’ll raise the baby on my own, I won’t take a single cent from you, just please, please don’t fight with her, don’t divorce her…” Whether it was a performance or a genuine breakdown, I couldn’t tell. Suddenly, she dropped to the floor and began slamming her head against the tiles, the rhythmic thudding echoing in the tense silence. Jason’s resolve crumbled. He looked completely undone. With a choked cry, he grabbed a piece of the shattered glass from the floor. He gritted his teeth, and in one swift, horrifying motion, he slashed his own arm, severing a tendon. Blood sprayed across the white walls, a constellation of crimson. The room erupted in chaos. “Ava,” he gasped, clutching his bleeding arm. “Bella’s mistakes… I’ll pay for them. I’ll carry her burden.” “But I will not let you hurt her again!” For a second, I was lost in a memory, the image of him shielding me from harm two years ago overlapping with the monster standing before me. I stared blankly at the scene. A nurse shrieked. A pool of blood was spreading on the floor beneath Bella. The call button buzzed incessantly. Bella was screaming, clutching her stomach. Jason, panicked and on the verge of becoming a father, was shouting for help. The room felt like a scene from hell, a cacophony of pain and fear. A gurney finally arrived and wheeled Bella away, leaving my room in a sudden, ringing silence. It was a relief. Except for Jason’s parting threat, thrown over his shoulder as he left. “If anything happens to Bella or my child, I swear to God, you will pay!” Through the light slanting in from the hallway, his face was a blur of rage. My own bandages were already soaked through with fresh blood. A doctor rushed in, his face grim. He said I needed a second surgery, immediately. As the anesthetic began to work its magic, my mind drifted back to the last time our marriage had shattered. Just after they’d released me from the psychiatric hospital Jason had committed me to. I remembered standing in the bright, sterile living room of our villa, feeling small and fragile. “Ava, dear, just apologize to Jason, and he’ll apologize to you. Then we can all put this behind us,” my mother had said, casually admiring an expensive gift he had bought her. Jason stood by the window, tapping ash from a cigarette. “Ava, I was wrong. I sent Bella overseas. I swear I’ll never have contact with her again.” He slid a document across the table. “This is my guarantee to you. If I ever cheat again, everything I own becomes yours. Just be good now, okay?” I had hesitated. Maybe it was because I still loved him. Maybe it was the terror of being sent back to that place. In the end, I agreed. I chose to try and salvage what was left of our broken marriage. … The second surgery was quick. The moment I was wheeled out of the OR, a shadow fell over me. It was Jason. He grabbed my newly bandaged right hand and hauled me up from the gurney. His face was contorted with a rage that bordered on madness. “Ava!” he roared. “Why can’t you ever learn? Why did you get to have your surgery before Bella?” “It’s your fault! You caused her to go into premature labor! It’s your fault there’s something wrong with my baby!” The pain was so intense I couldn’t even scream. Cold sweat drenched my body. “Ja…son!” I gasped. “Let me go!” I struggled against his grip, but it was useless. There was a sickening snap. I felt the fragile bones in my hand give way, my wrist bending at an unnatural, ninety-degree angle. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? My baby—our baby—is in the NICU!” he bellowed. “If it weren’t for you, none of this would have happened!” He dragged me off the gurney and began slapping me, over and over. The hospital corridor was full of people, but no one moved. No one dared to intervene. I started to laugh. A raw, gurgling sound. My mouth filled with blood, spilling from my lips and gums. The sound was horrifying, inhuman. A true vision of hell. My laughter seemed to startle him. His face twisted in disgust. “You’re pathetic! You’re completely insane!” After one final, ringing slap, a nurse came rushing up to him. “Mr. Croft, your baby is type AB. The mother is type A. We need to test your blood type. The blood bank is critically low, and the baby is in danger!” Jason, still breathing heavily from his assault, froze. The color drained from his face. “I’m… I’m O-negative.”

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It was my seventh day back in my real family’s home when I saw the confession post. [The year my parents adopted me, I knew their real daughter was in the same orphanage. But I didn’t say anything. I was terrified of being left without a family, of being at the matron’s mercy again.] [Now my parents favor me and treat her poorly. The guilt is eating me alive. How can I ever make it up to her?] In my last life, when I discovered the poster was the girl who had taken my place, I dragged my useless right leg to confront her, my mind shattering. But that same night, she buckled under the pressure and jumped from a building. My parents blamed me for her death. They screamed that I should pay with my life, that I had to die. Only my adoptive brother, Ethan, shielded me. He took me away from that house, gave me a new place to live. But he refused to find me a doctor. Instead, he tormented me daily. “You drove Lily to her death,” he would whisper. “You extinguished a bright, living soul. You will spend the rest of your life atoning for it.” In the end, swallowed by a deep depression, I followed in her footsteps. I jumped. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I first found that post. 1 The commenters thought Lily Hecht was just fishing for attention, a troll making up a story. They filled the thread with memes and sarcastic replies. She posted an update. [My parents raised me for eighteen years. They love me, they couldn’t bear to send me away. So they let me stay, as the real daughter’s younger sister.] [The first time we met, we were both five. We became best friends at the orphanage. But I was so scared her parents would recognize her and not adopt me. So one day, I convinced her to play hide-and-seek. I told her to hide and stay hidden.] [I tried to find her later, I really did, but she’d already been adopted by another family. She’s had a terrible life. Her leg is crippled, and she’s so thin, just skin and bones.] [I heard her adoptive family was awful. They beat her, neglected her. She had to drop out of middle school to fend for herself.] [And me? I grew up with every luxury. If I so much as sneezed, my parents and brother would call the family doctor. I go to the best private high school. I feel so, so sorry for her…] Last time, reading those words was what made me snap. How could I not hate her? On the first day I was brought back to the Hecht family, my mother held me and wept. My father, a man with a stern face, had red-rimmed eyes. My adoptive brother, Ethan, gently stroked my head. It should have been the start of a happy life. But then Lily appeared. She wore a beautiful dress, a diamond necklace I’d only ever seen in magazines glittering at her throat. She smelled soft and sweet, like flowers. I instinctively looked down at myself. At my right leg, shattered by my foster father. It could barely support my malnourished body. My nine-dollar thrift-store clothes carried a strange, musty odor. The black lint from the fabric was still wedged under my fingernails. Why? Why did she get to live my life? I hated Lily from that moment on. She had changed so much that I didn’t recognize her as Lulu, my friend from the orphanage. After I got lost all those years ago, a kind person had taken me there. We were always hungry, always cold. The matron was cruel, but she was always gentle with Lulu. Every time the matron took Lulu away to “play a game,” Lulu would return with a bag full of snacks. I wanted snacks too, so I asked her about the game. “It’s not fun at all,” she’d said. “It hurts, and it smells bad. If you want some of my snacks, I can share.” “But whatever you do,” she warned, “don’t let them make you clean. If you look too clean, the matron might force you to play the game.” I believed her. I spent my days covered in dirt, a little mud-caked wild thing. Then, six months later, Lulu wanted to play hide-and-seek. By the time I climbed out of the dusty cabinet, night had fallen. And she was gone, adopted by a rich family. I was happy for my friend. But she had lied to me. When that bloody truth was ripped open, in my previous life, I had attacked Lily in a frenzy. My parents and Ethan had rushed in. When they learned that Lily was the reason I had been separated from them for thirteen years, they couldn’t believe their sweet daughter could be so vicious. She just cried, apologizing over and over. “I’m so sorry, Mara. I ruined your life, I’m so sorry…” Not long after, Lily jumped to her death, right in front of me. My parents, who had been furious at her deception, broke down completely when they saw her body. My mother grabbed the collar of my shirt, her face contorted with grief. “What did Lily do wrong? She was just a scared little girl trying to escape the matron! She just wanted a mommy and daddy to protect her! Why did you have to expose her? Why did you have to kill her?” “Give me back my daughter!” And what did I do wrong? Why did I have to spend my best years as a cripple? Why did I have to dig through trash for food, wearing the same pair of shoes through all four seasons? Does dying suddenly make you the innocent one? I don’t remember how I left the Hecht house that day. All I remember is Ethan wrapping his arms around me, shielding me from my parents. His embrace was as warm as his voice. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I’m here.” But his very presence in this family was because of her. They had adopted him only because Lily had wanted a big brother. 2 Ethan settled me into his apartment, gently wiping the tears from my face. “You’ll live with me from now on. Right here.” But Lily’s death became a recurring nightmare. When I woke up screaming in the night, Ethan would hold me tight, whispering softly. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m with you.” “I’ll put on a movie for you. It’ll help you take your mind off things.” But the scenes of people falling in the films only terrified me more. So Ethan switched to opera. The soaring, dramatic music frayed my nerves. The only thing that brought me a sliver of peace was clutching Ethan’s hand. I was like a castaway clinging to driftwood, desperate for something to keep me afloat. In that despair, love began to bloom. But my mental state only worsened. I tried to save myself. “Can you take me to see a therapist tomorrow?” Ethan refused. He leaned close, his voice a gentle poison in my ear. “When Lily died, her head was smashed open. Have you ever thought about how much that must have hurt?” “Do you remember? She was apologizing to you right before she died. Have you forgiven her in your dreams yet?” “Mara, you’re a murderer.” “You drove Lily to her death. You extinguished a bright, living soul. You will spend the rest of your life atoning for it.” So that was it. Ethan hadn’t saved me because he believed I was innocent. He took me in to torture me, to avenge Lily. This time, I closed the web page and pretended I had never seen it. I wouldn’t become a sinner again. I would use the Hecht family’s influence to climb as high as I could. Then I would leave this place forever and build the life I wanted. The only person I can ever truly rely on is myself. So I went downstairs and found my mother. “I want to go back to school.” 3 The day I came home, my mother had suggested I transfer to Lily’s high school. I hated her, and I was terrified of being mocked for my leg, so I’d refused. Now that I was bringing it up myself, my mother was delighted. “That’s wonderful! Lily will have company on her way to school now.” “Mara, you’ve missed a lot of classes, but your brother is a freshman in college. He can tutor you. Just ask him if you need anything.” Ethan was sitting on the sofa, watching TV. He looked up at her words. He had the same gentle expression I remembered. But I wanted nothing to do with him anymore. I shook my head. “He doesn’t need to trouble himself. I can ask my teachers.” Ethan’s gaze dropped. “Suit yourself.” “Dinner’s ready,” my father called. Lily came downstairs, too. She sat across from me, looking timid and tense. As my mother served us, she cheerfully announced I’d be starting school. Lily’s face paled slightly. “It’s great that… that sister wants to study. I’ll take care of her at school…” “Mom,” I interrupted quietly. “I can’t eat celery. I’m allergic.” I’d discovered it during one of my old jobs. I was so hungry I’d eaten a customer’s leftovers, only to break out in hives, struggling to breathe. The restaurant owner had panicked and called an ambulance. Afterward, he docked my pay for the month, claiming I’d disrupted his business. My mother froze, then quickly removed the celery from my bowl. “Oh, I’m so sorry, dear. I’ll remember from now on.” “Here, Lily, you have it. Celery is your favorite.” She didn’t just give Lily my piece. She tossed it in the trash and served Lily a fresh one, as if my food was now contaminated. Then my mother picked up a piece of fish, carefully removing the bones for her. “A bite of celery, then a bite of meat. You need your perfect balance, don’t you?” The love that should have been mine was being poured all over Lily. Lily watched me cautiously, gauging my reaction. I just shoveled the meat into my mouth. The fake beef I used to eat was soft and tasted like tofu. This was real meat, tender and savory. I was eating so fast. Suddenly, a pork rib landed in my bowl. Ethan had served it to me. “The ribs are good, too. Don’t just eat the beef.” I froze, not daring to touch it. My mind raced, wondering if there was something wrong with it. A warmth trickled from my nose. He quickly grabbed a napkin and wiped the blood away for me. I shot up from my chair, stumbling backward. The chair legs screeched against the floor. My mother looked over, and I stammered, “I’m full.” As I ran upstairs, I heard Ethan’s low voice. “Maria, Mara looks a bit flushed. Could you make her some cooling herbal tea?” That was Ethan. Always so considerate. Even when I first came back, a stranger to him, he would ask if I was settling in okay, if my clothes were warm enough. That’s why, in my past life, I never once suspected that his kindness was a mask for his hatred. But it doesn’t matter. This time, Lily won’t die. And I won’t be driven to jump from a building. The school enrollment was handled quickly. On Monday morning, I was supposed to go to school with Lily. She came to my room. 4 Lily held out an orange shopping bag. Inside was a designer backpack. I’d seen couriers deliver them to wealthy customers before. A brand called Hermès. Very expensive. “Sister, your backpack is a little small. You’ll have a lot of books in high school, it won’t fit everything. This one’s new, you can have it.” Ever since I’d returned, Lily had been finding excuses to give me expensive things. I used to think she was showing off and would always reject them coldly. Only now did I understand. It was her way of compensating me for stealing my identity. This time, I took it without a second thought, already calculating its resale value. After all, money would never betray me. Seeing that I hadn’t refused, Lily practically skipped out of my room. I slung the bag over my shoulder and headed downstairs. As I passed the living room, my mother called out to me. “Mara, do you like Hermès bags, too?” Her voice was soft, but the edge was sharp. “If you like them, Mom can buy you one. But you can’t steal…” She coughed, rephrasing. “You can’t just take Lily’s bag.” I stood frozen. “Lily gave it to me.” “That’s impossible. Lily treasures that limited-edition bag. She barely even uses it. I once joked about giving it away, and she cried her eyes out.” Just then, Lily came downstairs. Hearing our conversation, she rushed to confess. “I did give it to sister.” My mother was confused. “But don’t you love that bag?” “I…” Lily stammered, unable to bring herself to tell the real reason. Her hesitation only confirmed my mother’s suspicions. Her face hardened, believing I had bullied her precious daughter. That’s when Ethan spoke up. “It’s true, Lily did give it to her. I heard them talking upstairs.” Lily immediately latched onto the lie. “Yes, that’s right. Ethan can vouch for me.” But Ethan had been downstairs with our mother the whole time. Our mother sighed. “You two are just too soft-hearted.” “We’ll let this go for now.” And just like that, the matter was closed. I was a thief who couldn’t be proven innocent. I clenched my fists but said nothing more. My mother wouldn’t believe me anyway. They were Lily’s family. Whatever I did was wrong. There was no point in arguing. Later, I found a consignment shop and sold the bag. The wire transfer hit my account: a staggering number with six figures. More money than I could have earned in a hundred lifetimes. It was worth being called a thief. 5 School wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined. When my classmates found out about my leg, they were kind and went out of their way to help me. Because of that, Lily never approached me. She pretended not to know me. And I had no interest in starting a drama about the long-lost daughter. She sat in the front row; I sat in the back corner. We stayed out of each other’s way. That evening, I stayed late to ask a teacher a question. By the time I came out, Lily and the driver were gone. Ethan was waiting for me at the school gate. “I told them to go on ahead.” His voice was low. “Mom found out you sold the bag. She’s furious.” “Dad gets back from his business trip tonight, and he knows, too.” “When we get home, just admit you were wrong. I’ll speak up for you. They won’t be too hard on you.” I couldn’t figure Ethan out. Based on his personality, he should have been just as angry as our parents, scolding me for selling Lily’s gift. He should never have been the one to help me. Could it be? Had he been reborn, too? Ethan reached for my schoolbag, but I flinched away on instinct. “I understand. I need to buy some school supplies. You should go ahead, brother. I can get a cab home.” Without waiting for a reply, I limped away as fast as I could. It didn’t matter if he’d been reborn or not. In this life, he could protect his sister, and I would walk my own path. We would have nothing to do with each other. When I got home, the air was thick with tension. My parents were sitting grim-faced on the sofa. The orange backpack was on the coffee table in front of them. Lily sat beside them, prim and proper, though she shot me a guilty look. She clearly hadn’t intended for her gift to cause so much trouble. My mother was the first to speak. “Mara, this morning your brother and Lily lied to protect you, so I didn’t expose you for stealing. But how could you sell it?” Her voice rose. “That was Lily’s most prized possession!” “If I hadn’t seen it in a shop window and bought it back, you would have broken her heart all over again!” My father tossed a credit card onto the table. His voice was cold as ice. “This family is not so poor that we need to sell handbags for cash. If that got out, people would think we mistreat our own daughter.” “From now on, I’ll deposit your allowance onto this card. This is your only warning. But first, you will apologize to Lily.” “You were in the wrong.” I had no idea how much money was on that card. I could apologize, take the card, and let the whole thing blow over. Or I could fight, expose Lily’s real reason for giving me the bag, and reclaim my innocence. This seemed to be a question where I was doomed to lose, no matter what I chose. So. I chose…

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I joined a travel reality show with my best friend, and she was suddenly proposed to by a famous movie star. In the romantic atmosphere, I screamed: “Stop! Stop! Haven’t taken photos yet! Don’t kneel first! Don’t say yes yet!” Without hesitation, I squatted down, stuck my butt out, and frantically snapped pictures from all angles. The esports god beside me fell into contemplation looking at the photos on my camera, which only showed the back of the movie star’s black head and my best friend’s beautiful face. I wiped away tears of excitement: “Boohoo, what are you waiting for, give my best friend some fill light!” The esports god spoke cautiously: “…” “Um… do you want to consider taking a picture of the guy’s face?” Netizen’s hot comment: [What’s the difference between this and a war correspondent!! Begging for such a supportive bestie!!] [Who said this best friend is no good! This best friend is amazing! I totally accept!!!] 1 When my best friend Chloe Miller brought the variety show invitation, I was diligently Photoshopping her beautiful photos on the computer, emitting my ten-thousand-and-first sigh: “Beauty attack! How can there be such a flawless modeling face!!” “It’s really a waste on that brat Liam Brooks!!!” Yes, Liam Brooks is the pig that dug up my best friend’s cabbage! Chloe couldn’t help pursing her lips and smiling: “So can you join the travel variety show with me? I recommended you to the director team.” “Travel variety show?” I blinked, a bit reluctant. Although Chloe is a popular female star in the entertainment industry, as her best friend, I am indeed a solid C-lister who gets chased and scolded. The reason is simple. When Chloe and Liam met at the peak, the movie king and queen announced their relationship, almost blowing up Twitter trending topics. I, the best friend who knew the inside story, was pushed into the public eye. Interviews followed one after another, asking me: “In your opinion, who is more outstanding, Chloe or Liam?” At that time, I answered honestly: “Chloe has won the Best Actress Award three years in a row. I see all her hard work and feel distressed for her, so in my opinion, Chloe is more outstanding.” But this passage was edited and marketed in various ways, and finally the style gradually twisted into— I think Liam is not worthy of Chloe. Liam’s fans thought I was smearing their idol. CP fans thought I was sowing discord. Chloe’s fans thought I was deliberately rubbing off popularity and stepping on others. So, I was besieged by three families and became a C-lister. Fortunately, Chloe often dropped coins and introduced gigs, so I didn’t starve to death. But this variety show is live… Sensing my hesitation, Chloe came over and rubbed against me: “Sierra, please, traveling so far away, people are scared~” Me: “…” This sister didn’t say that when she climbed five mountains in five days alone. She said she was a woman like an eagle… Unable to withstand such a lively beauty acting coquettish, I rubbed my eyebrows: “Alright then…” 2 “Letters from the Sea Breeze” is a travel live broadcast variety show organized by Fruit TV. Guests travel to Seaview City for seven days to experience the romantic local customs. When I gathered with Chloe in front of the six-seater SUV, the other guests had already arrived. Popular Movie Star — Liam Brooks. Esports God — Jace Carter. Host — Bella Quinn. My gaze froze involuntarily. Bella curled her lips and came over to greet me: “Sierra Cole, long time no see!” The barrage in the live broadcast room laughed first— [Wow kaka! First time seeing my God Jace on a variety show! Licking screen ing…] [Dying of laughter! How does Sierra feel seeing an old acquaintance? Do you feel slapped in the face!?] [Really feel distressed for my baby Chloe, why is she still playing with someone like Sierra!? Even participating in a variety show to rub off popularity, shameless!?] … I pursed my lips. Back then, Bella was just a small marketing account with a hundred thousand followers. She tried every means to find me and said she wanted to do an interview. But after the interview, she started creating gimmicks to guide the trend and jumped to become an internet celebrity. I became the C-lister chased and scolded. “Damn! Why is she here!?” Chloe muttered irritably beside me, “The program team is too disgusting. I asked for a four-person trip! Why did they add her temporarily? Does the program team treat us like fools??” I poked her helplessly and whispered a reminder: “Live broadcast! Pay attention to your image! Endure it!” The program team naturally enjoyed seeing this kind of Shura field (intense conflict). For me, I’m already so obscure, not afraid of being more obscure. Just worried about Bella causing trouble and affecting Chloe… “Chloe, long time no see, miss you so much.” Bella walked up familiarly wanting to hug Chloe. Chloe dodged and raised an official smile: “Yes, yes, long time no see.” After putting all luggage into the trunk, Liam actively took on the responsibility of driving. Chloe just wanted to sit in the second row with me, but was pulled by Bella. Bella blinked at her: “Chloe, you sit in the passenger seat. I’ll sit in the second row.” “On the way, I can listen to you share your romantic relationship history.” “You don’t know, hearing that I’m going to participate in the variety show with you guys, my fans couldn’t wait to leave messages for me, wanting me to interview more!” “Chloe, you won’t deprive me of the opportunity to ship CP on the spot, right?” 3 Helplessly, Chloe could only sit in the passenger seat. Bella sat in the seat behind her, and I sat in the third row. Jace, who had been wearing a baseball cap, looked up, revealing his eyes for only a second, then lowered his head and climbed into the third row, sitting silently beside me. I couldn’t help looking at him a couple more times. Just as I was about to speak. Bella turned her head and actively grabbed the conversation: “God Jace, why don’t you sit in the second row?” “You won the championship in the National Esports League last week. I still want to interview you.” Jace leaned lazily against the back of the chair, his chin hidden in the collar of his windbreaker, his slender fingertips pressing down the baseball cap, showing an attitude of “strangers keep away.” “No need, I’m sleepy.” First time hitting a wall, Bella’s face stiffened. I couldn’t help laughing, the smile on my lips hadn’t been hidden yet. Bella’s provocative gaze fell over: “Sierra, the requirement for this trip is lightness. Everyone only brought one suitcase. Why are you carrying so many big bags? The trunk almost couldn’t fit them.” I hugged the bag in my arms: “I brought cameras, a lot of equipment.” “Doesn’t the program team have special cameras? Why bring a camera? Heavy and takes up space.” Bella frowned dissatisfiedly. Netizens also raised questions one after another— [Sierra brings the most stuff! Not a big star, but quite a big pomp… hehe…] [Still that question, when can Chloe break off friendship with this leech friend!!!] [Off topic, did anyone notice Jace Carter in the corner? Although his face is covered tightly, the exposed fingers are white and slender, so good looking…] … Sensing the situation was wrong, Chloe turned her head to explain: “Of course it’s to take pictures of me. Many of my photos were taken by Sierra. Sierra’s photography skills are very good!” Liam, who was driving, chimed in: “I can prove this point!” I patted my chest and promised: “Chloe, don’t worry, this time I will definitely continue to produce beautiful photos!” “Then trouble Sierra to take a few beautiful photos for me too this time.” Bella looked over smilingly. Me: “…” 4 After driving for several hours, just when everyone was drowsy, we finally arrived at the homestay. Seaview City is by the sea, and the location of the homestay is excellent, right by the beach. Jace greeted us lightly, carrying his suitcase upstairs first. I couldn’t help looking at him a couple more times. Chloe whispered gossip: “He is the captain of the K.O team. It is said that this sponsor let him show his face to increase the popularity of their esports team.” “No wonder he looks like he doesn’t want to talk to anyone.” I nodded and opened the suitcase, “I brought a lot of clothes suitable for taking pictures by the sea this time. It’s sunset by the sea now, the scenery is super beautiful. Let me take pictures of you!” “You actually brought so many!?” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Of course!” I spread the clothes one by one on the sofa, “Some are sent by brands, some are ones you bought and never wore. I brought them all seeing they fit. I also brought a lot of corresponding accessories.” Chloe was dazzled, hesitated for a while and chose a light blue tie-dyed ethnic style dress, and draped a knitted beige shawl with long tassels hanging from the hem. With smooth big waves, the whole person was unrealistically beautiful. I couldn’t help sighing, Chloe is simply a miracle of creation. Knowing her for these years, my biggest hobby is dressing her up like a Barbie doll and taking various good-looking photos of her. And those god-tier pictures of hers are mostly from my hands. Satisfied admiring my work, I stepped forward to help Chloe adjust the details of the clothes, when a slight tearing sound came from behind. Accompanied by Bella’s complaint: “This dress is too tight, right? Can’t put it on at all!?” My heart skipped a beat, turning to look. Saw Bella coming out of the toilet, wearing a pure white dress from my suitcase that I hadn’t taken out yet. I rushed up immediately, questioning angrily: “Who let you take it!?” “Aren’t you going to take pictures of us!? Taking out so many clothes isn’t it for us to choose?” Bella answered righteously. Seeing her extremely shameless look, I was dizzy with anger: “These clothes are not prepared for you! Taking a step back, even if you want to borrow clothes to wear, why didn’t you tell me!?” “You guys were chatting hotly just now, I didn’t want to disturb you.” Bella glanced at the cameraman next to her, her attitude softened, trying to explain, “Your suitcase was open, clothes just lying there, I thought we could choose freely… it’s my misunderstanding, I’m really sorry…” I pursed my lips, looking at the clothes on her. This one was specially prepared for Chloe before coming. Off-shoulder style, layered skirt hem, covered with a layer of light gauze. The first time I saw it at the counter, I felt it was especially suitable for Chloe. I saved up some spare money to buy it and planned to give it to Chloe. Result now it is worn on Bella, and the waist of the skirt has a long narrow tear due to violent pulling. Can’t wear it at all!!! The cameraman carried the camera and slowly zoomed in. Bella gently touched my arm, her eyes starting to turn red: “Sorry, don’t be angry, I didn’t know you didn’t plan to take pictures of me…” “This skirt is too tight, I accidentally broke it when putting it on, but it doesn’t matter, I’ll pay you however much…” I looked at her coldly, not believing she was unintentional at all: “Don’t you know what size you wear? Forcing it when you can’t put it on, do you do this when trying on clothes at the counter too?” Tears rolled down from the corners of Bella’s eyes instantly: “Sorry, I didn’t know this dress would break with a gentle pull…” Netizens in the live broadcast room were filled with righteous indignation— [Bella apologized and planned to pay, Sierra still won’t let go! What on earth do you want!?] [Hehe! Sierra is really interesting, planning to extort our Bella with some street stall goods from nowhere? Our Bella usually wears big brands, giving you face to wear that skirt!] [I see it, Sierra is isolating Bella. Preparing so many nice clothes for Chloe and taking pictures for her, isn’t it just rushing to flatter and rub off popularity!? So disgusting!!!]

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After I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I bought three necklaces and hid them in three different places. “Hubby, these are my favorite necklaces. You have to burn one for me on my death anniversary every year, okay?” With that one sentence, I leashed the mad dog that was Ethan Sterling. I stopped him from jumping off a building, made him throw away his sleeping pills. Relying on this promise, he survived year after year. Until a young girl appeared by Ethan’s side. She was innocent and kind, like a warm little sun. Ethan moved out of our marital home and gave away the puppy I raised. On the third anniversary of my death, Ethan didn’t come. I slipped into Ethan’s dream, acting cute: “Hubby, you dummy, you haven’t found this year’s necklace yet.” Ethan, who usually chattered endlessly to me, was inexplicably silent. After a long time, he said: “Willow, it’s been three years. I need to start a new life too.” 1 After Ethan said that, I was stunned for a long time before replying slowly: “Oh, I see.” After that sentence, silence fell between us. Ethan lowered his head, hair obscuring his eyes, lost in thought. Actually, this is how it should be. Trees grow upward, people should look forward to the future. I opened my mouth, trying to pretend to be happy. But for some reason, I couldn’t curve my lips into a smile no matter how hard I tried. “Is it that girl from your company? She’s quite cute. If you’re together, treat her well…” Ethan gave a soft “mn.” I had so many other questions. I wanted to ask why he moved out of our marital home. I wanted to ask why he gave away my puppy. I also wanted to ask if he would still visit my grave on future anniversaries. But hearing that “mn.” I suddenly didn’t know what to say, so I turned around somewhat flustered: “Oh, okay, then I’ll get going…” I had drifted a few steps away when a voice suddenly came from behind: “Willow, did you really like that necklace?” It was Ethan, his voice characteristically deep. Everyone else called me Willow. Only Ethan called me Will. “Not really, actually I didn’t like it that much.” Three years ago, I hid those necklaces to give Ethan something to hold onto. So he wouldn’t be impulsive, wouldn’t follow me in grief. But now, it’s not needed. A new girl has appeared by his side. The girl is passionate and bold, approaching him day after day. Melting Ethan’s heart, giving him the motivation to live. My necklace seems a bit like an eyesore now. Ethan asked me: “Will, are you angry?” Actually, there’s no reason to be angry. My tone was serious: “Ethan Sterling, I’m really not angry.” I shouldn’t be selfish and domineering, occupying Ethan’s life even after death. How could I be angry? If I had to say. Maybe my heart just feels a little sour, so sour my eyes are a bit red. I looked at the moisture on my fingertips, wondering if ghosts can cry too? 2 At eighteen, I found out I was living in a book. Ethan was the male lead, and I was his “white moonlight”—the unforgettable first love who died young. In the book, we only had three years to love each other before I died of stomach cancer. So I suppressed my feelings and intentionally avoided Ethan. Nineteen-year-old Ethan didn’t understand why I suddenly became cold to him. He tried hard, hit many walls. Later, there was a fire at school. He was the only one who rushed in to save me. A terrifying scar nearly four inches long wound down his arm. It made him miss his exams and ended his dream of becoming a pilot. Ethan comforted me instead: “Will, I insisted on rushing in, it has nothing to do with you.” That night, I accepted Ethan’s confession. I told myself, stomach cancer is curable if caught early. The plot in the dream might not happen. After graduating college, we got married. After that, I researched a lot, going for checkups regularly. Ethan was more nervous than me, almost memorizing the test results. Unfortunately, life rarely goes as planned. I don’t understand, stomach cancer was detected early. But why did it worsen into late stage in just one month? So unexpected, so contrary to common sense. During that time, Ethan was like a walking corpse, his hair turned half gray, suffering insomnia night after night. Yet he pretended to be relaxed when visiting me, wearing a hat to comfort me not to be afraid. But no miracle happened. Before dying, I hid three necklaces and hired someone to tell Ethan a location every year: “Hubby, this is my favorite necklace. Remember to burn one for me every year, I want to be beautiful in the afterlife too.” With this promise, I stopped Ethan’s countless thoughts of suicide. Ethan was depressed,消沉 and desperate because of his love for me. And also persisted and cheered up because of his love for me. Three years later, the destined heroine of the plot, Lily Summers, appeared. The heroine would heal him with love and tenderness. Redeeming Ethan from the past, starting the sweet romance plot that followed. The last necklace didn’t need to be found. I was destined to be forgotten. 3 I floated behind Lily Summers. The heroine in the plot had a beautiful, innocent face. I heard her complaining to the air: “System, are you sure Ethan likes me? His face is as cold as ice every day, acting like I’m his enemy.” A cold robotic voice sounded, presumably the System Lily was talking to: “Host, your role is the little sun. As long as you persist in being proactive, you can soften the male lead’s heart. Remember to bring breakfast for the male lead tomorrow.” Lily pouted: “Fine. If it weren’t for the fifty million dollar prize, I wouldn’t take this crappy mission, chasing after someone who ignores me every day.” “But, Ethan is handsome and rich. I actually kind of like him. Marrying him and spending the rest of my life with him is actually pretty good. I can even get half his assets. Compared to that, the fifty million is nothing.” I stood frozen in place. System? Prize? Mission? What does this mean? The next morning, Lily indeed brought breakfast to the company. She smiled shyly, showing a unique girlish innocence. Ethan was a germaphobe, usually kept strangers away, but uncharacteristically accepted the breakfast. Not only that, he ordered Lily, an intern, to be converted to full-time early. It was completely different from how he treated me back then. At that time, our relationship was strong, and Ethan was childhood friends with my boss. But Ethan asked me to follow company rules. He said he believed in my ability and didn’t want me to be gossiped about for using connections. I couldn’t tell whose method was better, mine or Lily’s. But obviously, Lily was somewhat special in Ethan’s heart. After that day, Lily was exceptionally promoted to Ethan’s personal assistant. The two were inseparable almost every day. Eating together during work, watching movies together on holidays. Everyone could see Ethan’s special treatment of Lily. Employees gossiped, relieved that Ethan finally started another relationship: “Our CEO Sterling is really devoted. Since Miss Willow left, he almost lived in the company day and night, pouring all his energy into work.” “That day I was wondering why CEO Sterling kept looking out the window. Later I found out a new chain store opened opposite the company. That was the bakery Miss Willow liked most when she was alive. That afternoon CEO Sterling was restless, signing several contracts wrong, which was unlike his rigorous self.” “Miss Willow was very nice. I remember she ordered afternoon tea for us every time she came to the company.” “Yeah, but people have to look forward. We are all happy for CEO Sterling that he is willing to step out of the past and start a new life.” 4 Ethan moved out of our marital home and bought a new villa. Lily stood in front of the mirror, surrounded by expensive clothes and bags. She happily tried them on: “Ethan is so generous. Buying so many things just after we started dating. If we get married, won’t he be even more generous?” System: [Host, rest assured, I will definitely help you marry Ethan. By then, half of the Sterling family assets will be yours.] Lily smiled until her eyes curved: “Of course I believe you. If not for you, I wouldn’t even be able to get close to Ethan now.” As she spoke, she gritted her teeth a bit: “It’s all that bitch Willow Winters’ fault. Still lingering after death. If not for her, I would have married Ethan long ago. What ‘according to custom, can’t marry for three years,’ I spit on that!” The day Ethan and I got married. The officiant asked the groom if he would be faithful to the bride for life? Ethan nodded seriously and solemnly said “I do.” But actually that night, I quietly made an agreement with him about time: “Hubby, if I die, three years. Just three years, hubby. I don’t want a lifetime.” I don’t know if it’s a real custom or if Ethan remembered that night’s promise. But undoubtedly, this result is good. Ethan’s destined heroine appeared, and I didn’t make him make a promise he couldn’t keep. Ethan being depressed for three years was already doing right by me. He should start a new stage afterward. For the rest of his life, the one accompanying him should be Lily.

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While waiting for my husband in the parking garage, I stumbled upon a viral post on a local online forum. The title was: “What do you do when your wife is too clingy?” Amidst a sea of syrupy sweet humblebrags, one comment from a female user caught my eye. “Easy, you play the incompetent card! My childhood sweetheart was forced to marry someone he didn’t love. I gave him an idea: for five years, he pretended to be pathologically directionally challenged.” “Then, when his wife got pregnant, he secretly mixed lubricant into her shower gel. She slipped and fell. On the way to the hospital, he pretended to get lost again, deliberately driving in circles on the outskirts of town. She miscarried and is now permanently infertile.” “Today is his wife’s tenure review day. He’s insisting on driving her, but it’s just another act. He’s going to ‘get lost’ to make her miss it, so I can get the position instead.” “Once she fails her review, he’ll persuade her to quit her job, turn her into a helpless housewife, and then kick her to the curb.” The chilling familiarity of the story sent a tremor through me. Before I could process it, my husband’s voice, thick with guilt, sounded beside me. “Ava, honey, I think… I’m lost. We’re not going to be late for your tenure review, are we?” I turned my head and met Kevin’s gaze, his eyes a murky, unreadable pool. “The review starts in ten minutes. I’m not going to make it.” Kevin squeezed my hand, his face a mask of apology. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I swear I went over the route a dozen times this morning. The GPS didn’t even say I took a wrong turn.” He sighed dramatically. “Maybe it’s a sign from the universe. A sign that the world is just as heartbroken as we are about the baby we lost. Maybe this is its way of telling us to focus on our family.” His words echoed the forum post, each syllable a hammer blow against my heart. He’d faked it for five years. He’d made me lose our child on purpose. And now, he was trying to manipulate me into quitting my job, to make me dependent and useless, just so he could discard me. A faint, cold smile touched my lips. “You’re right. In that case, you should quit your job today. We can stay home and work on our relationship.” Kevin choked, speechless. After a long silence, he let out a soft sigh. “Ava, you’re still angry with me about the baby, aren’t you?” “He was my child, too. It broke my heart.” “You’ve always known I get lost easily. When it happened, you should have called 911 yourself instead of waiting for me to drive you!” His complaint was so absurd I almost laughed. He claimed to be directionally challenged. That’s why a twenty-minute drive from his office to our home would take him four or five hours. Sometimes, he’d just text and say he was sleeping at the office. Yet Chloe’s apartment, nearly an hour from his work, was a drive he could make in thirty minutes flat. Dates with me were always prefaced by hours of waiting because he’d “gotten lost.” But a single call from Chloe, and he could cross mountains and rivers to be by her side in an instant. I can’t count the number of times I screamed at him for it. But every single fight ended with me apologizing. Torn between rage and the fear of losing our ten-year history, I was trapped in a cycle of madness and remorse. When I finally got pregnant, the thought of leaving him vanished completely. I thought if I just loved him a little more, one day he would see my worth. He would change. We could still be a happy family. Until one month ago, when his “getting lost” made me miss the critical window for medical intervention. I had wanted that baby for five years. And in the end, I couldn’t protect him. In a twisted way, maybe it was for the best. At least now, he could be reborn to parents who would truly love him. Hearing my hollow agreement, Kevin’s expression shifted. Before he could say anything else, his phone rang—the custom ringtone I knew belonged to Chloe. He answered, and her ecstatic voice flooded the car. “Kevin! I got the professorship! Come pick me up from the university later. We have to celebrate tonight!” Kevin’s eyes flickered toward me. I smiled. “Go ahead. I’ll get a cab.” I got out of the car without a second thought. I could feel his gaze on my back, but I didn’t turn around. The moment I got home, a text from him arrived. I’ll be home early tonight. Please wait for me. We need to talk. I didn’t know what he wanted to say. But I knew one thing: he wouldn’t be coming home. As expected, he didn’t. I was used to it. Before Chloe moved back, Kevin and I had been happy. Back then, he hadn’t yet developed his “pathological directional disorder.” He would take me to trendy spots every weekend for photoshoots, and we’d explore food stalls, trying everything I wanted. He knew I loved fairytales, so he proposed at Disneyland. In front of a cheering crowd, he got down on one knee. “Ava,” he’d shouted, his voice thick with emotion, “this city is full of lights and noise, but without you, it’s empty. A place without you isn’t a home. Will you give me a home?” I’d said yes without hesitation. He’d spun me around, swearing to the world, “I, Kevin, will love only Ava for the rest of my life. I will take care of her and only her. I hope Ava will be mine forever.” How could I have known that his “forever” would only last a few short years? I knew he had a childhood sweetheart before we got married. He told me Chloe had settled abroad and would probably never come back. He said she was just like a little sister to him. But shortly after our wedding, she suddenly returned. With Kevin’s help, she became my colleague at the university. And just as suddenly, Kevin forgot the way home. When I confronted him, he turned it on me. “You think I want to be like this? It’s because you’re always picking fights, keeping me on edge! It’s caused this rare neurological condition!” “Chloe needed help finding a job. Of course I was going to help her.” “Ava, for God’s sake, you’re a university lecturer. Can’t you be less insecure? Is it so impossible for a man and a woman to have a platonic friendship?” “Just because you didn’t have a childhood best friend doesn’t mean I can’t have one!” “If I had known you were this jealous, I never would have married you.” If I had just walked away the first time he said those things, maybe none of this would have happened. But there are no do-overs in life. It’s for the best. After being hurt time and time again, letting go doesn’t feel like tearing my own heart out anymore. Now, I was just weaning myself off him, waiting for the right moment to cut the cord. I just didn’t expect that moment to arrive so soon. I was in the middle of a lecture when a swarm of reporters burst into my classroom, cameras flashing in my face. “Are you Professor Ava Ross?” one of them shouted. I frowned. “Who are you? I’m in the middle of a class. Please leave immediately!” They didn’t move. Instead, they shoved their microphones in my face. “Professor Ross, do you have any comment on the allegations of academic fraud and plagiarism?” “Did you deliberately skip the tenure review because you had something to hide?” “Do your students know their esteemed professor is a fraud?” For a second, I thought I was mishearing them. But the suspicious looks from my students told me it was real. I stared at the hostile faces of the press. “I have never committed academic fraud!” I declared, my voice ringing with conviction. “And I have never plagiarized anyone’s work! If you continue to spread these lies, I will sue you for defamation!” As my words faded, a snide laugh came from the crowd. “Professor, give it up. Your own husband has already issued a public apology on your behalf!” That paper… I had spent six months of my life on it, poring over countless sources. Kevin knew. He knew how much it meant to me. I called him frantically, desperate for an explanation, but he didn’t pick up. Just like that, I was suspended from my duties. Kevin finally came home that evening. The second he walked through the door, I slapped him. The sound cracked through the silent apartment. “Kevin, I already gave up the professorship for Chloe. Why would you help her frame me like this? Why are you doing this to me?!” His head snapped to the side. To my surprise, he wasn’t angry. He slowly ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek and chuckled. “Ava, I knew it. All that understanding and grace you’ve been showing lately… it was all an act.” “See? All it took was a little push, and the real you came out.” I stared at him, my eyes red, my heart pounding with disbelief. “So you ruined my career… just to prove a point? Kevin, you’re insane!” He shook his head. “Not just for that.” “Chloe just made professor. She needs a high-quality publication to solidify her position. Your paper was perfect.” “Don’t look at me like that. You should be flattered I found your work worthy. I know this is a little hard on you, but don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you in time.” “Besides,” he added with a chillingly casual air, “you just had a miscarriage. This is the perfect opportunity for you to take some time off and rest.” I was shaking with a rage so profound it left me speechless. He, on the other hand, started humming a cheerful tune as he walked into the bedroom. A moment later, I heard his voice, soft and gentle. “Chloe, don’t worry. I’ve handled Ava. She won’t cause you any trouble.” “You just focus on preparing for the international symposium next week.” “I promise, as long as I’m here, I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Hearing the tenderness in his voice, a cold, hard hatred began to bloom in my chest. Just then, my phone buzzed. A message from Chloe. [Ava, that paper of yours is really well-written. Thanks!] [The paper, the professorship, Kevin himself… if I want something, you’ll never be able to compete.] [So, if you have any self-respect left, you’ll just disappear. Don’t wait until you’ve lost absolutely everything.] That was it. The last thread of my sanity snapped.

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Just like Nana always cursed, I was finally gone. Yet, late that night, she opened my journal, whispering into the dark. “Harper… you should come back as a boy next time. Just be a boy. Girls are born to suffer these things.” “Boys have it good.” 1 My body was found the next morning. The scene was packed with onlookers. Nana, on her early morning grocery run, stopped at the edge of the crowd to gossip. When she heard a young girl had passed away, she shook her head. “Weak. If the girl in my house dared to jump, I’d break her legs myself.” I watched her walk away, muttering under her breath. “Waste of money feeding them all those years. Just for nothing.” “Early morning too. Couldn’t she have done it somewhere else?” A little later, I saw Nana coming back. She had the freshest bacon, the best eggs, and a box of glazed donuts—Mason’s favorite. I didn’t need to count. I knew there were exactly eight inside. None for Pop-Pop. None for Nana. None for me. All for Mason. I followed Nana home. Usually, she heads straight for the kitchen, but today she stomped toward my room. “Just because it’s the SATs today doesn’t mean you get to sleep in! If you don’t want to go to college, get out and flip burgers!” She shoved the door open and slapped the light switch. The bed was empty. The sheets were thrown back. She started cursing again. “Damn kid left without saying a word. No manners.” Yeah. I was the damn kid. And I was gone. Only my wandering soul was left to watch them. The family found out I was gone during breakfast. A neighbor recognized me and brought the cops to the door. I watched Nana panic, trying to explain. “You guys made a mistake. That brat has a test today, she left early.” But when they saw the photos—my broken form, the face still recognizable—all three of them froze. Pop-Pop’s eyes bugged out. He turned on Nana, screaming. “Are you blind?! A whole person goes missing and you don’t know?!” Nana, who never liked me, collapsed on the floor. She finally realized the “girl” she gossiped about was me. “How was I supposed to know she’d actually do it? How dare she? We spent so much money on her and she hasn’t paid back a cent! How dare she jump?” Nana made a move to get up, raising a trembling hand as if to slap my body in the photo. The officer and Mason held her back. “We found a journal and a pen on the roof. Only her prints. Handwriting matches,” the officer said. “This is an old building, no cameras. It looks like a fall from the seventh floor, but there are some scuff marks on the roof. We aren’t ruling out foul play. Investigation is ongoing.” My journal… I didn’t want them to see it. But I couldn’t stop them. Nana couldn’t read well, but Mason and Pop-Pop were reading. Mason went silent, his eyes turning red. Pop-Pop read two pages and immediately raised his hand to hit Nana. “Why are you always telling her to go die?!” Nana didn’t understand, dodging the blow while the cops tried to separate them. Pop-Pop was screaming, his old bones shaking as he tried to kick her. “Do you have no shame?! She was a child! You pushed her to this!” Nana was angry and confused. “What did she write? Mason, what did your sister write?” Mason didn’t speak. He just kept turning the pages. Pop-Pop was an accountant. Nana barely finished middle school. She suffered from feeling inferior, so she never won an argument against him. But my notebook was full of words. How could she think it was only about her cursing me? I wrote about how she didn’t love me. How everything good went to Mason. I had nothing. I wrote about her hitting me, screaming at me. I wrote about begging Pop-Pop for help, but he just looked annoyed that I woke him from his nap and slapped me for being loud. I wrote about how Mason already had everything, yet still fought me for scraps. Even a bag of chips—he’d take them to share with friends rather than leave me a single crumb. “Mason! What did she write? Is it all lies? Blaming everything on me? That wretched girl doesn’t let us have peace even when she’s gone! I should have strangled her at birth!” “Nana!” Mason’s voice trembled. “I need to call Dad.” Oh. I wrote about Dad and Mom too. But they divorced eight hundred years ago. Mom had a new family. Would she even come back? 2 Dad came back first. He hadn’t smoked in years, but he sat there in silence, staring at the journal, chain-smoking. Dad loved coming up with “business ideas.” They always failed. Money was always tight. Pop-Pop was in the living room cursing out Nana. Nana sat at the table mumbling to herself. Mason locked himself in his room. “She’s gone, so she’s gone! Why don’t you just kill me too then?” Nana suddenly snapped back. “I’ll beat the life out of you!” Pop-Pop grabbed his belt, but Dad stopped him. Dad frowned, looking exhausted. “Dad, Mom, stop it. You’re tired. Just rest.” “Tired? You know I’m tired? I’ve been a slave to this family for decades! I haven’t had a day off since I married you! Now she’s dead and you blame me? How is it my fault? You didn’t raise her right!” Nana pushed Dad away, tears streaming down her face. “What good girl goes and jumps off a roof? Writing all this trash to curse me? I say good riddance! She deserved it!” “Mom!” Dad was always a mama’s boy. I think that was the first time he ever yelled at her. Immediately, his face crumbled into a begging expression. “Mom, she didn’t curse you.” “Harper was my daughter. She’s gone now. We pushed her until she broke. Mom… I don’t have a daughter anymore.” Dad buried his face in his hands and squatted down. The living room went quiet. I noticed for the first time how much gray was in Dad’s hair. His back was bent. In my memory, he was always in a crisp suit, looking important, going to dinners, traveling everywhere. But they always told him I was bad. I remember the time guests came over. Nana told me to cook. I was going to listen. But I looked up and saw Mason, only a year younger than me, playing video games on the couch. I refused. So, she took all the books and trinkets in my room, shredded them, and burned them in a metal bin. We fought that day. She called me horrible names. I cried and fought back. I obviously lost. But after that, I never called her “Nana” again. She went to Dad. Said I was getting rebellious. That I was trying to fly away. When Dad talked to me privately, he liked to show me the scars on his hands from his “hard work.” He’d say, “Harper, you aren’t small anymore. Why can’t you just let your brother win? Dad works so hard out there, it’s not easy. When will you grow up?” I remember sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at his scars, crying, refusing to speak. I felt guilty. I was a burden. I was sorry for his pain. I thought I was too much. I wrote that in the diary too. I blamed myself for being immature. But I couldn’t let go of the resentment, which made me feel even worse. Dad must have read that part just now. Nana wiped a tear. “Fine. I won’t speak. But don’t blame me. The cops said someone might have pushed her. It has nothing to do with me.” She pushed herself up, her seventy-year-old body swaying. Pop-Pop muttered, “You’re the one who didn’t watch the door. You let her out.” Nana wanted to argue, but Pop-Pop slammed the door and left. I wanted to check on Mason. I walked through his wall. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. His phone rang. It was Mom. Mason picked up. Her voice came through the speaker. “Sweetie, I’m just driving your little brother to school. What’s up?” Mom’s voice was so gentle. But she wasn’t my mom anymore. She was Mason’s mom. And that new little brother’s mom. 3 “Mom… Harper is gone.” I heard Mason’s voice. He was choking up. But shouldn’t he be happy? He could finally have everything. No more worrying about me taking a tiny corner of his world. But he looked sadder than I imagined. “Mom!” Mason’s voice cracked, rising into a cry. “Harper is dead.” Mom fainted. Her current husband picked up the phone to tell us. Turns out, Mom’s best friend died of cancer two months ago. Mom was emotional. She hadn’t recovered from that, and now she got the news about me. The stepdad scolded Mason for being insensitive. Mason just nodded, saying “sorry” over and over. I crouched beside him, a ghost in the room, crying. I was so bad. I was torturing Mom again. Back when Mom used to visit, she liked to tell me, “Birthing you took so much out of me. It hurt like hell. I was barely eighteen, and your dad didn’t have a dime.” “Harper, I carried you for nine months. You are a piece of my heart. How could I not love you?” I believed she loved me. I was sorry it hurt so much to have me. But every time she talked to me, after mentioning the hardships, she only talked about that new little brother. I knew he didn’t eat fat on his meat. No onions. No eggs. No milk. I knew he wet the bed at eight. I knew he had a crush on a girl named Bella. I knew he liked to sleep next to Mom. She told me all of it. I had never met him. Mom didn’t really like talking to me because I was boring. I just listened silently. I never knew what to say. She loved chatting with Mason. Everyone said Mason had a sweet mouth. By the time Mom arrived, my body had been prepped. She leaned over the viewing table, crying without sound. It hurt to watch. Dad tried to support her. She slapped his hand away. “Why did she jump?! How were you taking care of her? Why? Why did she do it?” Mom was gasping for air, her words broken. Nana started to speak. Pop-Pop cut in, his voice cold. “You’re the mother, and you blame us? She wrote that you didn’t like her. Said you only loved your son. That you didn’t want her. She couldn’t take it, so she jumped.” Mom froze. Her mind seemed to shatter. She stumbled backward. “She… she said that about me?” Her beautiful face was streaked with mascara. I didn’t! I rushed forward, trying to explain. I just wrote that Mom loves the little brother so much. I wished Mom loved me like that. I wished she talked about me like that. Pop-Pop lied. Mom collapsed to the floor, wailing. I tried desperately to lift her, but my hands passed through her shoulders. Thankfully, Mason and Dad caught her. Mom hugged Mason and screamed, pounding her chest. I was awful. Mom was going to blame herself forever. Losing a best friend, then a daughter. I couldn’t imagine how broken she was. The crematorium was burning my body. I went back home. I tried again and again to burn that diary, but I couldn’t touch it! Wind blew through the open window, flipping the pages. It landed on an entry: “It’s great. Dad bought a condo. Three bedrooms. Pop-Pop said to put Mason’s name on the deed so he can get a wife later.” “I didn’t dare ask if there was a room for me. They never looked at me when they talked about it.” “But that’s okay. Dad worked hard for it. I’ll save money and buy my own house one day.” 4 I didn’t have a funeral. Pop-Pop said my death wasn’t honorable. Guests would laugh. A lot of people in the complex were already moving out, selling their units. Mom didn’t stay at the house. She got a hotel nearby. Dad offered her my room. But my room was a converted storage closet. No windows. Just stacks of dried beans in the corner. Small and messy. I was glad Mom didn’t stay there. That night, I sat in the living room, staring at the notebook, willing it to rot. The house was silent. Around midnight, I heard a noise from the grandparents’ room. Nana, holding the wall for support, walked out in the dark. She picked up the diary from the table, went into my room, and gently closed the door. She clicked on the light. I watched her turn the pages, her wrinkled face almost pressed against the paper. “You wrote so much just to curse me. Did you hate me that much?” I saw a tear hit the paper. She quickly dabbed it with her sleeve, trying not to ruin the ink. She wiped her eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She sat on the edge of the bed. The yellow light highlighted the ivy-like wrinkles on her face. Nana looked so old. Her eyes were hollow. She whispered, “But isn’t this how everyone lives?” “Harper… my mother taught me this. Boys have to be taken care of better than girls. Was I really wrong?” “You’re gone now. Why are you still scolding me? Why didn’t you tell me when you were alive?” I looked at her pain and didn’t know what to say. I wouldn’t have said anything alive. I put everything in the book because no one in this house would listen. To them, my feelings were rebellious. Incorrect. “Harper, be a boy next time. Just be a boy. Girls are born to suffer these things.” “Boys have it good.” Nana’s voice was low, repeating it over and over. The room had no windows. The air was suffocating. Nana was bound by the chains of her generation. She never went to school. She worked in the house all day. She didn’t know that the ideas everyone followed in her time were obsolete. Her educated husband never told her. Her educated son just wanted to be ‘filial.’ The world moved on, but Nana was held back by the old ways. Left behind. She truly believed boys were more precious than girls. Maybe Nana wished she had been born a boy, too. I had some memories of Nana being good to me. Not many, but they existed. When I was little, we were poor. Other kids had candy; I was envious. If they dropped a piece, I’d check if anyone was looking, pretend to pick up a toy, and pocket the dirty candy. I’d wash it in the sink at home and eat it. It tasted like tap water, but it was sweet. Mason didn’t have to do that. He had allowance. One day, I was eating a washed candy while Nana picked vegetables. She asked if I found it. I smiled and said yes. “It’s good.” She said, “Don’t pick stuff up anymore. You don’t know if those people have diseases.” I didn’t know if they had diseases, but I was sickly. I drank bitter herbal concoctions all the time. It was so bitter it made me want to vomit. But after that day, every time I drank the medicine, there was a piece of candy. Small, but enough to kill the bitterness. I found out later Nana brought them home from weddings or diners. She’d shove handfuls of mints into her pocket, ignoring the weird looks from other guests, just to bring them to me.

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On the seventh day of the cold war with my arranged marriage husband, I vomited. Good news: I’m pregnant. Bad news: He’s infertile. I ran back to my parents’ house overnight and threw the pregnancy test onto my brother’s bed. My mom saw it and fainted on the spot. My dad was so angry he gave him a beating, demanding he bring my sister-in-law home. Sorry, big brother, you’re taking the blame for this one. Later, when my best friend and I went to the hospital to consult about an abortion, we bumped into my arranged marriage husband. I cowardly proposed a divorce: “I’ll leave with nothing. I won’t let you be a ‘happy’ father.” His face was deadly cold as he tightly gripped my wrist: “Letting my daughter call some wild man ‘daddy’? In your dreams.” 1 Ethan Zhou is eight years older than me. Cold personality. And old-fashioned. Even my brother complained that every woman in the elite circle lusted after his face, but no one wanted to marry him. Not long ago, my family’s company was on the verge of bankruptcy. It was he who stepped in and cleared a debt of three hundred million. My dad was so grateful he almost knelt down to him. Then Ethan proposed a condition: marrying into my family would waive the three hundred million debt. He’s a man, my brother’s a man. So the only one he could point to was me. These years I’ve been lying flat and leeching off my dad, feeling a bit guilty, so I agreed to the marriage. A month later, I married into the Zhou family with great fanfare. Because Mrs. Zhou isn’t Ethan’s biological mother, their relationship is very cold. So I didn’t have any troublesome mother-in-law issues. No one urged me to have children either. Until I saw Ethan’s physical examination report, I learned he had azoospermia (infertility). No wonder he never mentioned children, but did it fiercely. Turns out he couldn’t have them. But my small frame couldn’t stand his nightly torments, so I often rejected him. Ethan didn’t force me, solving it himself in the bathroom. Life after marriage was quite comfortable, but there were accidents. Once, hearing me complain to my best friend about being bored at home, Ethan took it upon himself to sign me up for many hobby classes. In the evening, I had to report to him, standing in front of him like an elementary school student, performing. If I didn’t learn well, he would keep a straight face and hit my palm with a ruler. What made me speechless was when I was bewildered by him in bed, calling him “hubby” in a sweet voice. He suddenly whispered in my ear asking me “how to say hubby in French.” That day I couldn’t bear it anymore, kicked him off the bed directly, had a big fight, and started a cold war. Today is the seventh day of the cold war. 2 Ethan sat at the dining table, holding coffee in his left hand, looking down at his tablet. The scratch on his forehead had turned light pink. That day I had just finished Taekwondo class and kicked him off the bed. His forehead hit the corner of the cabinet, cutting a one-centimeter bloody gash. I ignored him; he went downstairs to apply medicine himself. In the following days, he went back to the room to sleep as usual, but just didn’t talk to me. Petty man. I took two bites of the meat bun, felt a bit greasy, and threw it onto the plate casually. Ethan suddenly looked up, then lowered his head again, still silent. My phone buzzed constantly. My best friend kept sending messages warning: “Don’t talk to him first!” “I tell you, old men love to pretend, wanting you to apologize first. Just ignore him for a few days.” “Besides, his desire is so strong, he definitely can’t hold it. You must make him admit his mistake to you.” My best friend got angrier as she spoke, sending voice messages directly later. I accidentally pressed play, causing the person opposite to look up. Ethan’s eyes were pitch black, his gaze slowly falling on my face. Stared for a few seconds, suddenly stood up, pulled out the chair, and left. Prepared for a big fight, I was stunned directly. He just left like that? Like punching cotton, making me unhappy. Angered me into hunger, grabbed the bun and ate a few bites, but saw Ethan’s assistant suddenly walking over. Respectfully said to me: “Madam, Sir asks you to pay attention to protecting his privacy and not discuss his private matters with your friends.” I was so angry I gave him the middle finger and stormed out of the dining room. Just back in the room, nausea rose in my stomach. I rushed into the toilet and vomited all my breakfast. For the whole day, I vomited whatever I ate. Lying in bed sighing, I messaged my best friend. “I’m sick.” “Babe, you’re not pregnant, are you?” My best friend’s horrifying question scared me. I quickly ordered a pregnancy test online. Good news: I’m pregnant. Bad news: He’s infertile. This child isn’t Ethan’s! 3 Just a week ago. I skipped French class and went to a bar with my best friend to have fun. On the dance floor, I met a pure male college student, Ryan Guan. Very handsome face, although not comparable to Ethan, but sweet-mouthed, coaxing my best friend and me into elation. Ordered tens of thousands worth of drinks, treating him and his friends. At the end, Ryan asked for my WeChat. My best friend encouraged me to add him. But just as I took out my phone, a superb but cold face suddenly jumped before my eyes. I put away my phone and rejected him. That was the first meeting. The second time was actually in bed. That day I went to a dessert class and met Ryan. He was the dessert teacher’s assistant. Because we knew each other, he took extra care of me. Unexpectedly, it aroused the jealousy of a female student who drugged my milk tea. In a daze, I seemed to beg Ryan to take me to a hotel, and soon my body reacted. Ryan kept calling me, asking me to wake up. I hooked his neck and kissed him eagerly: “My husband ignores me…” Don’t know if it was an illusion, felt like after saying this sentence, Ryan’s aura suddenly had a trace of aggression. That big hand held my waist, hot and smooth. “Only proactive after being drugged?” I couldn’t make a sound, hugged by him, turned over and pressed under him. That night the lights didn’t go out. Like floating on a boat, dizzy from shaking. Opening eyes again, Ryan was gone. Even the scent disappeared completely. After returning home, I soaked in the bathtub for three hours, coming out only when my skin was wrinkled. At night Ethan wanted to do it, I refused. He didn’t solve it himself like before but pulled my hand and tossed until midnight. The next day my wrist hurt so much I couldn’t hold chopsticks. When Mrs. Zhou asked, I blushed not knowing how to respond. Could only glare at Ethan. Ethan, who always disliked talking to Mrs. Zhou, spoke lightly: “You don’t need to ask about private matters between husband and wife.” Mrs. Zhou understood instantly, hurriedly changed the subject, talking about the illegitimate son I never knew about. She chattered on, but didn’t cause any fluctuation in Ethan’s emotions. His expression was calm, blocking Mrs. Zhou’s mouth with one sentence. “Let him behave himself until graduation, then I will give him a chance to recognize his ancestors.” “Otherwise, even you will have to move out of the Zhou family.” That was the first time I witnessed his temper. 4 I looked down at the pregnancy test, feeling cold all over. If Ethan knew the child wasn’t his, I would be kicked out of the Zhou family too. Even worse. I packed my luggage overnight and ran back to my parents’ house, accidentally bringing the pregnancy test back too. Before being discovered, I threw the pregnancy test onto my brother’s bed. My mom fainted directly upon seeing it. My dad was so angry he beat him up, asking him to quickly bring my sister-in-law home. My brother shouted injustice while dodging: “I really don’t have a girlfriend… stop hitting me…” “Sister, sister come out and save me!” Sorry, big brother, you take the blame for now. Back in the room, I messaged Ethan. [Hubby, my mom misses me, I’m staying home for a few days, don’t miss me.] Unexpectedly Ethan replied quickly: [How many days?] Me: [Three hundred and sixty-five days.] Typed it out as I thought it. I quickly retracted: [A month.] Ethan: [Are you hiding something from me?] The veins on my forehead jumped wildly, frantically typing: [No no, you focus on work.] Ethan didn’t reply again, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then started worrying, how to quietly get rid of this child? Couldn’t think of a way, I went to test my best friend. She scolded righteously: “Is this woman crazy, actually played until pregnant!” I said weakly: “What if this woman is me.” My best friend was silent for a long time. “But then again, is Ethan faultless?” “He does it for so long every time, you didn’t get pregnant, is he sick?” “You just made a mistake that all men in the world make, wanting to leave him a child, although this child isn’t his…” My best friend couldn’t continue, and I couldn’t listen anymore. So I said: “I decided to abort this child.” My best friend suddenly asked: “Then do you want to ask the child’s biological father, that male college student named Ryan?”

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