Category: English

The summer I bombed the exams that were supposed to define my future, I ran away to a small coastal town and fell in love with my landlord. At the peak of it, I wanted to run away with him for good. It didn’t happen. My fault. I found the secret he kept locked in his room. Turns out, I was just a stand-in. A ghost. We shattered like glass. Years later, I’m back in that same town, knocking on his door again. I watch the color drain from his face, watch his eyes start to burn, and I state my purpose. “I’m planning a wedding,” I say. “And I’m here to buy something from you.” 1 The silence stretched for two seconds, thick and heavy. He wrestled his emotions back into their cage, but when he spoke, his voice was a raw, terrible rasp. “Buy what?” Under his searing gaze, I managed to remain calm. “An engagement ring.” “I was told you were the designer.” I held up my phone, showing him the picture. A natural red crystal and a shimmering opal, clustered together on the band to form a half-wilted poppy. Under the gallery lights, it was hauntingly beautiful. The piece was titled Addiction. Bloom. The moment Chloe saw it, she knew it had to be her wedding ring. But the gallery’s response was firm: Private collection. For exhibition only. Chloe, however, has a peculiar talent for obsession. It was an entry from a design competition years ago. The designer had licensed it for shows, but never for sale. After pulling a dozen threads, I found my way here. Returning to this place… it was impossible not to think of him. The designer’s name was Rhys Atherton. Funny thing is, I don’t know any Rhys Atherton. But I know a man named Rhys. 2 The summer I met Rhys was the worst summer of my eighteen years. I’d failed the exams that were supposed to be my ticket to a good university. The Grant family decided to ship me off to a program in Europe. My family—the family that had taken me in—had arranged a marriage between their son, Caleb, and Chloe. My long-simmering, secret love for him died a quiet, unremarkable death. And Caleb, bless his heart, played the part of the warm, supportive older brother, telling me to just go along with the plan. He had no idea I was in love with him. He had no idea that I’d nearly killed myself studying, all for the chance to stay in the country, to stay near him. He knew nothing. Every step I took toward him, he took one back, gently pushing me away. So I told them I wanted a graduation trip first. A final summer to myself before I disappeared. It was a useless rebellion against his gentle suffocation, a desperate attempt to create some distance. And the first step was physical. Rhys was the owner of the guesthouse I rented in Port Blossom. My first impression of him: he looked like trouble. Shaggy, dark hair that fell into his eyes, sun-kissed skin, and a smile that flashed impossibly white. When I first arrived, I couldn’t sleep. A lingering side effect of my academic flameout. I’d find myself down on the beach at three or four in the morning, just letting the cold salt spray hit my face. He didn’t seem to sleep either. He’d be out there on the sand, collecting shells, and would always materialize beside me out of the darkness, striking up a conversation. We’d talk about everything and nothing until the sun came up, and then he’d drag me into town for breakfast before letting me go back to my room to finally crash. On the fifth night, he finally broke. “Kid, you’re killing me. I can’t keep pulling these all-nighters with you.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “How about this? You go back right now, get some real sleep. Meet me here tomorrow at ten, and I’ll show you a good time.” I was skeptical, but I did it. Just then, the wind blew his bangs from his face, and I saw him clearly for the first time. He was actually incredibly handsome. The next day, true to his word, he took me fishing, surfing, kayaking. That night, I was exhausted and asleep by nine. The four-a.m. beach walks became a thing of the past. This became our new routine. I found out later he thought I was suicidal. It was funny, in a bleak sort of way. He, who seemed to have given up on living, was worried someone else wanted to die. I discovered his own tendencies one night when the water heater in my bathroom broke. I knocked on his door, but there was no answer for a long time. When he finally opened it, the smell of blood hit me. I caught a glimpse of bloody tissues in his trash can, and a jolt of shock, then panic, went through me. Later, as he was fixing the valve, his shirt got soaked. Through the thin, wet cotton, I saw them: a crosshatch of scars, old and new, running up his arms. I froze. He didn’t seem like the type… Or maybe, he just seemed too normal all the time… I remember my brain short-circuiting. The first words out of my mouth were painfully direct. “Are you on medication?” “What?” He frowned, as if he’d misheard me. I reached out, my hand closing around his wrist. “We’re going to the hospital,” I said, my voice shaking but firm. And he went. He actually went with me, saw a doctor, got a prescription, and even started therapy. That’s when we started dating. Was it pity? Of course not. Until that moment, he had been the one taking care of me. His concern for me went far beyond any landlord-tenant relationship. I think my heart had already started to lean toward him during those sleepless nights. But it wasn’t until I saw the full scope of his pain, etched into his skin, that the feeling became so strong I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Just like now. 3 Rhys fell silent, then stepped aside, letting me into the house. The layout was almost exactly as I remembered it from three years ago—impersonal, monochrome, relentlessly dull. Back then, I had been endlessly curious about him. Why was he sick? Why did he have no friends or family to speak of? What did he do all day? What was his life before this? His house felt like an extension of that mystery, a place full of secrets. But whenever I asked, he would just brush it off with a few words. Ordinary. Nothing special. Boring. I was so desperate for answers I’d bring him every ridiculous rumor I heard in town. “They say you killed someone. That you did time. Is it true?” I knew he wouldn’t get angry with me. And he didn’t. He just glanced at me, a roguish grin spreading across his face. “It’s true. I was married, too. Had a wife. She ran off with another guy while I was in the joint.” He let out a deep, theatrical sigh, as if recalling a great tragedy. I was stunned. I hadn’t expected such a harsh history and immediately felt clumsy and tactless for bringing it up. Then I heard a choked laugh. I turned, and he was clutching his stomach, his laughter now open and unrestrained. I stared, completely bewildered. When he finally caught his breath, he reached out and flicked my forehead. His voice was low and smooth, impossibly alluring. “You’re so easy to fool, kid.” The way he looked at me then… it was against the rules. I must have been under his spell, because the words just tumbled out of my mouth. “Rhys, I don’t care about your past.” “Why don’t you… take me with you? Let’s run away.” For one, I hated the way the townspeople whispered about him. For another, I wanted to escape the Grants. I’d thought it all through. Rhys was a good person, he was good to me, he was handsome—he was perfect. Going with him was a winning bet. He stared at me for a long time after I said it. “You can’t just say things like that.” “I’m not. I’m serious.” He ignored me. I pestered him about it for a month, the argument finally ending in his bed. “Are you just playing with me? Is this not serious to you at all?” He propped himself up on an elbow. “Kid, I treat you like you’re royalty. How much more serious do you want me to get?” “Then run away with me.” He pressed his fingers to his temple. “What was the first thing you said?” Confused, I repeated myself. “Are you just…” “Yes,” he said, cutting me off. Without another word, he hauled me out of the bed, pushed me out of his room, and locked the door. “…” It was humiliating. The first time in my life I had ever offered myself to someone, and he’d literally thrown me out. I’d been in Port Blossom for nearly three months. Every message from Caleb had gone unanswered. On his way to come find me, he got into a car accident. I was with Rhys when Caleb’s mother called. There were no flights back, so Rhys drove me the six hours to the hospital himself. The sun was blinding that day. I felt like I was moving through a dream. When I finally stumbled into the hospital, the first thing I received was a sharp slap across the face from Mrs. Grant. Caleb was in surgery. I knelt on the cold floor outside the operating room. I knelt until a doctor came out and announced the surgery was a success. As Mrs. Grant rushed past me, I tried to stand and follow her into the room. My legs were completely numb. I staggered, falling straight into a familiar pair of arms. I realized then that Rhys hadn’t left. “Why are you still here?” Rhys steadied me, a faint smile on his lips. “You asked me to run away with you, didn’t you? I couldn’t just leave you here.” He helped me toward the hospital room, but we were stopped by Mrs. Grant’s icy glare. He was pushed out. And so was I. Shut out of the room, I forced a bitter smile and looked at Rhys, who seemed at a loss for words. “No need to ask,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’ll save you the trouble. I’m not her real son.” I was adopted from an orphanage by the Grant family. This kind of treatment was nothing new. After Rhys took me back to Port Blossom, we didn’t speak about that day. By some unspoken agreement, we buried it. He even started packing his bags, seriously talking about “running away” with me. If I hadn’t accidentally seen the photograph in his desk drawer, I probably would have followed him like a fool. And maybe being a fool would have been better. But in that moment, standing in front of Rhys, I suddenly found my pride. The photo showed a younger Rhys, his arm slung around another young man’s shoulders, both of them beaming at the camera. Staring at that face—a face that looked so much like mine—my mind went blank. I finally understood. My own words from before were complete bullshit. I don’t care about your past. I cared so damn much it was killing me. We had the biggest fight of our lives. Well, it was mostly me. I threw the picture at him, demanding an explanation, over and over. He just stood there, silent as a stone. Finally, my heart turned to ice. I delivered the verdict on our ridiculous, short-lived romance with a cold laugh. “He’s dead, isn’t he? So I’m his replacement?” More silence. “Is that why you were so good to me? Or was it pity? I must seem pretty pathetic to you, huh? Pretty pitiable.” Still silence. I kicked the coffee table, sending it crashing into the wall. “Rhys, you asshole. I’m done. I’m not playing this game anymore.” And just like that, we were over.

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Hurricane Isabel, the strongest storm in a century, was tearing our city apart. I was a week from my due date, and a contraction seized me so violently I nearly dropped the phone. I was about to call my husband, Ethan, the head of OB/GYN at St. Jude’s University Hospital, when a voice echoed in my head. A voice that was not my own. [Mommy, don’t call him.] I flinched, thinking the pain was making me hallucinate. But the thought was too clear, too specific. And it had a reason. [Daddy’s with her. The girl he never got over. If he comes to you now, she’ll die in the storm.] My blood ran cold. On the other end of the line, my husband’s voice, smooth and professional, finally came through. “Is this an emergency, Claire? I’m a little busy.” [He’ll kill us, Mommy. He’ll let us die to make it up to her.] The tiny, frantic voice in my skull sent a tremor of pure animal fear through me. I found my own voice, making it flat, unemotional. “No. It’s nothing. I can handle it myself.” Let him stay with his ghost. I was choosing to trust my child. 1 After I hung up, the shriek of the wind outside intensified, the sound of a beast trying to claw its way in. The floor-to-ceiling windows in our penthouse living room, a feature Ethan had been so proud of, were bowing inward, the glass warping like a sheet of plastic wrap under the assault of the Category 5 winds. I stared at them, a primal dread coiling in my gut. Another contraction, this one a low, grinding pressure, pulled my focus downward. I clutched my belly, trying to heave myself off the couch to get the hospital bag I should have packed weeks ago. The small, urgent voice returned, clearer this time. [Mommy, get out of the living room! Now! Daddy let Ava talk him into this apartment, but he cheaped out on the glass. It’s not rated for a storm like this. It’s going to break!] A jolt of adrenaline shot through me. There was no time to question it. Driven by pure instinct, I half-crawled, half-dragged my heavy body toward the small, windowless guest bathroom behind the building’s main support wall. I had just managed to pull my weight inside, my breath coming in ragged gasps, when the world behind me exploded. BOOM! I whipped my head around to see the entire wall of windows disintegrate, sucked out into the storm as if by a giant’s hand. A tidal wave of glass shards and torrential rain blasted into our home, instantly shredding furniture, art, our entire life together, into a maelstrom of debris. My strength gave out. I collapsed onto the cold tile, the phone slipping from my sweaty palm. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen. A moment later, a warm gush of fluid soaked through my leggings. My water had broken. [I’m sorry, Mommy… I think… I think I’m coming out.] The baby’s voice was thin with fear, laced with a sob. I remembered a video from a birthing class—once your water breaks, you don’t move. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, fumbling for the phone, my fingers slick with amniotic fluid. I managed to dial 911. “911, what is your emergency?” a calm dispatcher’s voice said over the chaos. I steadied my breath and gave her the address. There was a pause. Her tone shifted. “Ma’am, are you Dr. Ethan Cole’s wife? I’m transferring you to Dr. Evans in the ER. He’s coordinating our storm response and knows your area best.” Mark Evans. Ethan’s best friend, the hospital’s head of emergency medicine. A wave of relief washed over me. I was saved. The call connected instantly. “Claire, what the hell?” Mark’s voice was sharp, impatient. “Ethan already gave me a heads-up. Stop messing around. You need to cut it out.” My heart stopped. It wasn’t a misunderstanding. It wasn’t a hallucination. Ethan truly believed my call for help was just a petty, jealous game. Remembering my baby’s warning, a new wave of fear, colder and sharper than any contraction, washed over me. “I’m not,” I begged, my voice cracking. “My water broke, Mark. Please, you have to send someone.” He scoffed. “In this weather? Are you serious? Besides, every ambulance in the city is on standby for critical emergencies. Ethan told me you were fine, just looking for attention.” His voice dripped with condescension. “We’re in the middle of a natural disaster, Claire. Medical resources are stretched to the limit. Don’t waste them because you’re feeling jealous.” Click. He hung up without a second thought. I stared at the dark screen, the last flicker of hope extinguished. The hurricane slammed against the flimsy bathroom door, again and again. With every gush of fluid, I could feel my body’s warmth seeping away, taking my baby’s with it. I placed a hand on my belly, no longer feeling the familiar, reassuring kicks. I had to get up. I had to crawl out of this death trap if I had to. But as I tried to move, a contraction of unimaginable force seized me. The world went black, and I fell hard against the wet tile, the impact jarring every bone in my body. I was lying in a spreading pool of my own fluids and blood. I didn’t have the strength to get up again. 2 [Mommy, don’t give up. Post in the residents’ group chat. Ask for help!] On the edge of consciousness, the tiny voice sparked back to life. It was the last thread I had to hold onto. With trembling fingers, I found my phone, my vision blurring the blood smeared across the screen. I opened the building’s Facebook group. “This is Claire Cole in Penthouse 1901 in Tower 12. I’m pregnant and my water just broke. Is there a doctor in the building? Please, help me and my baby.” I added, “The living room windows are gone. I’m trapped in the guest bathroom.” The response was immediate. “Oh my God! In this storm!” “I can’t help, but I’ve already called 911 and the fire department rescue squad for you. Sister, you have to hang on!” “Don’t be scared, honey! We’re your neighbors, we’ll figure something out!” A flood of messages poured in. Then a voice message from a man whose profile picture was of him in military fatigues. His voice was calm and steady. “This is Dave from Tower 11. I’m a combat vet. When the eye of the storm passes over, I’m going over. Any other able-bodied men want to come with me?” The group went silent for a second, then erupted. “I’m in.” “Count me in.” “My husband will go!” Tears I didn’t know I had left streamed down my face. In my darkest moment, strangers were offering me the hope my own husband had denied. I don’t know how long I lay there, but eventually, the apocalyptic roar outside ceased, replaced by an eerie, deafening silence. The eye of the storm. At that exact moment, I heard the frantic pounding of footsteps outside my apartment door. “Claire? Are you okay? We’re here to get you out!” I choked back a sob. “I’m okay!” I yelled, my voice hoarse. “Roger that! We’re breaking down the door!” the man shouted back. CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! With a final, deafening boom, the reinforced steel door was smashed open. Several figures rushed in, led by Dave, the retired Marine. His face was grim, but when his eyes fell on the pool of blood beneath me, his expression turned to one of alarm. “Shit. Okay, find a plank, something sturdy! We need to carry her down!” Hands were all over me, carefully lifting me onto what looked like a splintered piece of a door. As they carried me through the wreckage of my home, my gaze fell on the entryway. On the console table, the glass on our wedding photo was shattered. But the picture itself was untouched. Ethan had his arm around me, his smile so full of warmth and adoration it looked like he was holding the most precious thing in the universe. What a fucking joke. I stared at his lying, hypocritical smile, and a pain sharper than any contraction squeezed my heart. [Don’t look at him, Mommy. He thinks you’re messy.] The baby’s tearful voice cut through my haze, severing the last thread of affection I had for that man. I closed my eyes, the heartbreak absolute. Down in the relative safety of the underground parking garage, the neighbors tried 911 again. This time, Mark Evans answered the speakerphone. “This is St. Jude’s ER, Dr. Evans speaking.” “Doctor, we’re in the Azure Tower garage. We have a pregnant woman whose water has broken! Where the hell is your ambulance?” Dave roared. “The eye of the storm is going to pass any minute!” On the other end, I could practically hear Mark roll his eyes. He said my name with weary disdain. “Is this about Claire Cole again? How many people did you get to play along with this little drama of yours?” Dave exploded. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’re talking about two human lives here! What kind of doctor are you? I swear to God, I’ll have your license for this!” Mark seemed taken aback by the fury. He paused, then sneered. “You want to threaten me? Fine. Prove it. Put her on video and show me she’s really in labor.” The phone’s camera was immediately pointed at me. A face, pale as death. Clothes soaked through with blood. The undeniable, steady trickle of fluid from between my legs. Mark went silent. The neighbors, thinking they’d finally gotten through, pressed him. “So? Can you send a car now?” “…It’s already on its way,” he said, his voice strained. But I heard a different voice, my baby’s, frantic and fading fast. [He’s lying! He didn’t send anyone!] [Mommy, the access road at the front of the complex… it’s going to collapse in five minutes! If we don’t leave now, we’ll be trapped!] 3 My baby’s voice was terrifyingly weak. My heart seized. I grabbed Dave’s arm, my grip surprisingly strong. “He’s lying,” I rasped. “We have to use your car. We have to go now!” My voice rose to a desperate cry. “The main road… it’s about to collapse!” The neighbors stared at me, confused. Through the phone, Mark laughed, a sound full of derision. “Wow, Claire. You’re really committing to the bit, huh? You came up with a whole collapsing road subplot just to get Ethan’s attention?” I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. I locked my eyes, raw and bloodshot, onto Dave’s. “Please,” I begged. “Please, trust me. We have to drive. Now!” Dave looked at my terrified face, then made a split-second decision. “You heard her! Get her in my truck! Let’s go!” He scooped me up as others opened the door to his lifted Ford F-150. They maneuvered me into the back seat just as he gunned the engine. The truck shot forward out of the garage. The phone line was still open. Mark was still talking. “I really have to see how this little play of yours ends…” He never finished the sentence. Just as our tires hit the public street, a deafening groan echoed from behind us. CRUUUUNCH! The entire stretch of road we had just driven over buckled and then collapsed into a newly formed sinkhole, swallowed by the earth. Everyone in the truck gasped. On the phone, Mark’s voice was choked with horror and disbelief. “You… How did you know that?” Before I could answer, a pain unlike anything I had ever felt tore through me. My whole body arched, and a hot, primal torrent erupted from between my legs. On the screen, Mark could see my belly contracting into a rigid peak. He finally understood. This was real. A doctor’s duty, long overdue, finally kicked in. He began directing Dave to pull over to a sheltered spot, his voice a remote guide as he started talking me through the birth. The waves of pain were endless, drowning my senses, pulling me under. My world narrowed to the shaking roof of the truck and the bloody haze in front of my eyes. I was losing consciousness, ready to give up. [Push, Mommy… I want to live… I want to see you…] The baby’s voice, a faint, desperate whisper. I want to see you. The words were a lightning bolt, shattering the fog in my mind. My baby. He had never seen the world. He had never seen me. He had fought so hard, warned me, stayed with me, all because he wanted to live long enough to see his mother’s face. I gripped the leather seat beneath me, summoned every last ounce of strength in my body, and screamed a raw, guttural cry that ripped from my soul. And then, through the sound of the wind and rain finally starting to die down, another cry answered mine. “Waaaaah!” A clear, strong, beautiful cry. My son was born. A woman in the car, another neighbor, deftly wrapped him in a clean blanket from her own go-bag. Dave handed her a bottle of water. As the first light of dawn broke through the clouds, the hurricane passed. In the distance, the wail of a siren grew closer. The ambulance had finally arrived. Mark was with them. “Claire, I am so sorry,” he said, his face pale with guilt. “If Ethan hadn’t told me you were faking, I never would have let it go this long.” I couldn’t speak. I was freezing, shaking uncontrollably. I just blinked. Before Mark could say more, the heart monitor they’d hooked me up to began to scream. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeep—! The paramedic’s head snapped up. “She’s hemorrhaging! BP is dropping fast! Get her family on the phone, now!” Mark’s face went white. He fumbled for his phone and dialed Ethan, his voice shaking. “Ethan! It’s Claire, she’s bleeding out! You have to get over here! We need you to sign for emergency surgery!” The line was silent for a few seconds. Then came Ethan’s voice, laced with an impatient, amused cruelty. “Mark, you fell for that? She got to you, too?” “It’s real, you asshole! Her blood pressure is 60 over 40! She’s going to die if we don’t get her into an OR right now!” Mark screamed, veins bulging in his forehead. Ethan’s reply was as cold as the grave. “So what?” “Claire needs to be taught a lesson.” “Let her lie there for a while. Once she’s had a good scare, maybe she’ll learn not to bother me with this kind of drama.” Mark was shaking with rage. “Ethan, what the fuck is wrong with you? That’s your wife! That’s your son’s mother!” “My son?” Ethan laughed, a short, ugly sound. “Who gives a damn about the son she had?” The line went dead. I lay on the cold stretcher, feeling the life draining out of me, my warmth and my blood becoming one and the same. As my vision tunneled, I saw them wheeling me through the hospital doors, toward the operating room. Doctors and nurses were scrubbed, ready. Everything was prepared. A nurse rushed out. “Where’s the family? I have the consent for surgery and the notice of critical condition! We can’t proceed without a signature!” Mark stood frozen, his phone clutched in a white-knuckled fist. His face was ashen. “The family… he refuses to sign.”

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I was on a street corner, happily devouring a kebab, when I saw exactly what I expected to see on Finn’s Instagram feed: a picture of my girlfriend, Ava. The caption read: Your cooking is the best medicine. After being stood up by Ava this many times, my heart was a placid lake. I was even thinking I should just break up with her already, to get out of their way. 1. I was chewing on a tough piece of grilled beef when my phone screen lit up with Ava’s name. It was just slowing down my kebab consumption. I was about to ignore it, but the side of my hand brushed against the screen and accidentally answered the call. Guess I had to deal with this. “Yeah?” I said. Ava’s voice was breezy, completely normal. “Hey, something came up at the office. Sorry I had to bail on you again. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I bit off the last piece of beef and picked up a grilled mushroom skewer. “Right. Got it. No worries.” A hint of suspicion crept into her voice. “Where are you?” I glanced around at the bustling, noisy street. The Empyrean, our original destination, was definitely not this loud. “Oh, I was craving some street food, so… yeah.” The grilled mushrooms were perfect. Her voice sharpened with annoyance. “You just decided that on your own? I pulled strings to get that reservation! Not showing up makes me look bad. What am I supposed to tell my friend?” “Why not just tell her the real reason you couldn’t make it? I’m sure she’d understand.” “The real reason? What are you implying now?” I sighed. “Is Finn feeling any better?” Her voice dropped, laced with a guilt she couldn’t quite hide. “How did you know… No, that’s not it. Let me explain.” “Don’t bother. I get it,” I said, cutting her off. “My kebab’s getting cold. Talk later.” I hung up. “Hey man, your grilled eggplant!” the vendor called out. “Awesome, thanks!” Ah, garlic-roasted eggplant. My absolute favorite. As for why Ava ditched me, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. On my way to The Empyrean, I’d seen Finn’s Instagram post: Dinner time, but I feel awful. No appetite. Don’t want to eat a thing. That was my cue. I told the driver to turn around and head for the food truck court. It was practically a conditioned response by now. Ever since Finn entered the picture, he’d always been her number one priority. Finn was a fresh-faced intern at Ava’s company, full of youthful energy. Ava’s opinion of him had morphed from, “He’s so incompetent, I’m tempted to fire him every day,” to “He’s actually trying really hard, and he hasn’t had it easy.” I knew then that she was falling for him. Soon enough, any little problem Finn had in his life, Ava would be the first to rush in and solve it. I watched it happen, feeling completely powerless, completely helpless. It wasn’t like I didn’t fight it. We argued, we yelled. But Ava’s excuses were always so infuriatingly dismissive. “He’s just a kid, fresh out of college, with no friends in this city. I’m just looking out for an employee.” “Anniversaries aren’t a big deal. We can celebrate later. But his stomach bug is acting up now. You’ve had that pain before, you know how bad it feels, right?” “You just sprained your ankle. He has a fever. You can see which one is more serious, can’t you?” So, I became immune. Numb. Getting stood up for a fancy dinner? Compared to everything else, it was nothing. Barely a blip on the radar. 2. The next morning, I walked into the living room and was shocked to see Ava there. This was a rare occurrence. Usually, after a night like last night, she’d just head to work straight from Finn’s apartment. She glanced at me, her expression casual. “Got back too late yesterday, so I just crashed in the guest room.” “Hm,” I grunted. She paused, then added, “You’re up a little late. Probably don’t have time to make breakfast, huh?” “I’ll grab something on the way,” I said flatly. She offered a small smile. “That’s a shame. I was kind of missing your porridge and omelets.” My hand was on the bathroom doorknob. “What’s there to miss? I’m sure you’ve already had breakfast.” I shut the door behind me. I used to wake up early every single day to cook for her. But ever since Finn invaded our lives, she’d gradually stopped eating the breakfast I made. After changing, I was heading for the door when I saw her standing there, her face a mask of complicated emotions. “I know I’ve been busy lately,” she said, “and haven’t been home for breakfast. I’ll try to be home more often from now on.” I managed a thin smile. “Don’t bother. I’d rather get some more sleep.” That extra thirty minutes of sleep today had me feeling surprisingly refreshed. She stared at me, looking like she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. As I reached for the front door, she lunged forward and grabbed my hand. I looked at her. Her lips tightened. “I only saw Finn’s post later last night. He didn’t mean anything by it. And nothing happened between us. Don’t get the wrong idea.” Even knowing he’d posted it, she was still defending him. In the past, any time I expressed the slightest dissatisfaction with Finn’s behavior, she’d frown and call me “petty” and “small-minded.” If I pushed back, she’d get defensive, accusing me of having a “dirty mind,” insisting their friendship was purely platonic. I just smiled. I was used to her bias. Seeing my lack of reaction, she pressed on. “I know you’re upset that I stood you up. But Finn got sick so suddenly. You know he’s all alone here, no family, no one to look after him…” I pulled my hand free. “I know,” I said calmly. “I get it. Can I go now? I’m going to be late for work.” She blocked the door again, her tone growing frustrated. “I told you, nothing happened between us! Why are you still sulking?” “And I told you I believe you,” I shot back. “So why are you still blocking my way?” “You…” “Seriously, I’m going to be late.” Ignoring her stunned expression, I walked out. 3. When I got home that evening, I went straight to the bedroom to grab a change of clothes for a shower. As I passed the study, I heard Ava’s voice drift out. “Just send it to me. I’ll take care of it.” “It’s no problem, really. It’s just a little bit of work, I can knock it out in no time.” “Haha, you got it. You owe me a big dinner for this.” I knew what this was. Ava, once again, doing Finn’s work for him. I remembered asking her once to help me grade some of my students’ papers. After two days of waiting, I gently reminded her. She snapped. “It’s the weekend! Can’t I just relax and have some fun? Do your own work. Helping you is a favor, not my duty.” I ended up pulling an all-nighter to finish them myself. But ever since Finn joined her company, a man who seemed to know nothing, she had patiently lowered herself to handle his tasks for him. When I confronted her about it, she said, “He’s new to the professional world. It’s normal for him to be clueless about a lot of things. Weren’t you the same when you first started teaching?” The memory of the student papers flashed in my mind, and we had a massive fight. She ended it by saying coldly, “At least when I help Finn, it benefits my company. What do I get out of helping you?” We gave each other the silent treatment for a long time after that. But I was still an idiot back then, so I forgave her after a half-hearted apology. After my shower, I settled into bed with my tablet to watch a show. A little while later, the bedroom door creaked open. I looked up. Ava was standing there with a weary smile. She climbed into bed and wrapped her arms around me. “You’re home! You didn’t even say hi, just started playing on your own? Your wife just finished a long day of work, and she’s starving.” “Ask Finn to make you something.” Her arms stiffened, and her face went dark. “Why do you have to bring Finn into everything? Can you stop having such a dirty mind for one second?” I put my tablet down. “I’m not. You just spent all that time doing his work for him. It’s only fair he cook you a meal in return, right? To pay you back.” She froze. “You heard that?” Then her brow furrowed. “I told you, Finn’s new. It’s normal for me to help him out. It’s for the good of the company! When the company does well, we both benefit. The money I earn helps us build a better life together! “Why can’t you just understand that?” So she did remember that I’d invested my inheritance from my parents into her company. Funny, because when I demanded she fire Finn, her response had been, “Who’s the boss here, me or you?” “I guess I don’t understand,” I said peacefully. “All I know is that if a teacher at my school was still a complete mess at their job after six months, they’d have been fired long ago.” Ava sighed, a long, dramatic exhalation. “Fine, fine. I’ll push him to get up to speed. I’ll try not to help him anymore. And if you have any student work in the future, you can give it to me. I’ll handle it for you. Is that good enough? “Anyway, I’m hungry now. Hubby, go make me a late-night snack? We haven’t eaten together in so long.” She was trying to sweet-talk me, clearly remembering how well it worked in the past. “No, thanks. You were right before—everyone should do their own work. Besides, I already ate before I came home. Just order some takeout.” Her face instantly turned to ice. She was silent for two long seconds, then she shot off the bed, turned, and slammed the door behind her. 4. After that night, Ava and I entered another cold war. But unlike previous times, when I’d be a nervous wreck, unable to focus on anything, this time I was… happy. Utterly, blissfully happy on my own. And I certainly wasn’t about to swallow my pride and beg for her forgiveness the next day like I used to. A week later, around nine at night, her best friend Sarah called me. Her message was brief. “Eddy, get down to the bar near the office. Ava’s—” I hung up before she could finish. Her little clique of work friends never liked me. They thought a high school teacher like me wasn’t good enough for a “young, successful, independent woman” like Ava. On the rare occasions Ava dragged me to a company party, they’d mostly ignore me or make thinly veiled digs. I wasn’t even allowed to look annoyed, or Ava would accuse me of being a bad sport. Thinking back on it, I was pathetic. But I have to admit, I brought it on myself. Sarah called again. I declined and blocked her number. Then I started calling real estate agents to schedule apartment viewings. I’d spent the week looking for a new place. The current apartment wasn’t just Ava’s; it was close to her office and a long commute from my school. Waking up early every morning left me perpetually exhausted, walking around like a zombie. My colleagues had even suggested I see a doctor because I looked so terrible every day. With a schedule like that, of course I looked terrible. 5. After I blocked Sarah, her friends started calling me, one after another. I’d just finished a call with an agent when another one came through. I was about to block this number too, but I saw the caller ID: “Maya.” I decided to answer. Maya was the only one in that group who was ever genuinely nice to me. She never joined in on the passive-aggressive comments. It was only fair to return the courtesy. “Eddy?” she asked tentatively. “Ava’s really drunk. She keeps calling your name. Could you please just come get her?” “Ask Finn to pick her up. I’m busy,” I said, eyeing the moving boxes I needed to pack. This was going to be a project. “But… it’s Saturday… and honestly, there’s nothing going on between her and Finn…” Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the phone, followed by Ava’s furious roar. “Hang up! Why are you calling him?! What is there to explain to him?!” I hung up first, not wanting to put Maya in a more awkward position. After I finished packing, I collapsed on the sofa and idly scrolled through my social media. As expected, Finn hadn’t disappointed me. He’d posted something new. Feel so bad for someone. So drunk her own boyfriend won’t even pick her up. Guess it’s up to a lowly intern like me to save the day. The photo was of Ava, sleeping. I felt nothing. I put my phone down, then had a sudden urge to go back and like the post. But packing had worn me out. By the time I picked up my phone again a few minutes later, the post was gone. Just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the apartment. The door swung open. Standing there, the woman who was supposed to be passed out drunk, was Ava. Her face was a thundercloud.

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In the seventh year of my crush on my childhood best friend, Caleb, my own best friend finally gave me the push I needed. I bought flowers and his favorite cake, took an all-night bus, and went to confess my feelings. Only to find him at a packed basketball court. Kissing her. Caleb had his arm wrapped around my best friend, Lily. His voice was cold when he saw me. “What are you doing here? Can’t you see I’m busy?” Humiliated and a mess from my trip, I was about to stammer out an explanation. But then his roommate let out a soft laugh from the sidelines. “My girlfriend brought me a cake. What’s it to you?” 1 When I found the basketball court, cake box in hand, Caleb had Lily pinned against the chain-link fence, kissing her. Lily only froze for a second before wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as deeply. The air was thick and hot. I stood just outside the court, dizzy and lightheaded after the overnight bus ride. The roar of the crowd felt like it was going to burst my eardrums. “Dude, I told you! I bet he’d finally make a move on Lily today.” “It’s about time. They’ve been flirting for ages.” “Pay up, pay up!” The words hit me, and the strength drained from my arms. The flowers and the cake suddenly felt impossibly heavy. On my phone was the last text Lily had sent me. “Caleb’s at the court! Go get him!” 2 The sky had turned a gloomy gray. A wind was picking up. Swallowing the lump of humiliation in my throat, I turned and ran. Behind me, I heard Lily’s frantic voice, thick with tears. “Chloe… it’s not what it looks like…” “Let me explain.” I’d been on a bus for nearly twenty-four hours. I was exhausted and my heart was shattered. I didn’t have the energy to figure out why Lily, on the very day she pushed me to confess my feelings, was kissing the guy I was supposed to be confessing to. But she grabbed the hem of my shirt, stopping me. Her usually rosy cheeks were pale. She frantically tried to push Caleb toward me, her voice trembling with unshed tears. “Chloe, let Caleb talk to you…” Caleb just grabbed her hand, his voice a low murmur. “What are you doing? Trying to give your new boyfriend away already?” Lily stubbornly held onto my shirt, not letting go. But she didn’t pull her hand from Caleb’s, either. The three of us were frozen in a horrible tableau. Seeing the tears welling in Lily’s eyes, Caleb’s expression darkened. He turned on me. “Who told you to come here?” “Can’t you see I’m busy?” I had traveled all night, my heart a nervous wreck, only to be met with his icy dismissal. The words I had rehearsed died in my throat. I pulled my shirt from Lily’s grasp, ready to just disappear. But then a calm, cool voice cut through the tension. “I did. Is there a problem?” A tall figure appeared a short distance away. He lazily lifted his gaze to meet mine. “You can’t even deliver a gift to the right person. Get over here.” 3 I never expected to see Liam Hale again in a situation like this. The last time we’d met was three years ago, when Liam, as our school’s valedictorian, gave a speech at graduation. When I went to hand him his award, I tripped on the stage runner and sent both myself and the trophy flying. After that, he and Caleb had gone to the same university. They’d even become roommates. It seemed like every time I saw him, I was making a complete fool of myself. Caleb looked annoyed. “Liam, stay out of this.” “Just let her go back to wherever she came from.” Liam just let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Are you confused about something?” “My girlfriend brought me a cake. What business is it of yours?” And just like that, I ended up at Caleb’s birthday party that night as Liam’s “girlfriend.” The atmosphere was… awkward. Lily kept staring at me, forgetting to eat. “Why are you looking at her?” Caleb frowned. “Eat up. Don’t worry, no one’s going to hurt you.” Something inside me finally snapped. I stared directly at Caleb. “Make it clear. How exactly am I hurting her?” Caleb’s face hardened, but he said nothing. I turned to Lily. “Are you afraid of me? Did you do something to feel guilty about?” Lily just shook her head, whispering, “No.” Liam slid a glass of watermelon juice in front of me. “If she’s this fragile, you probably shouldn’t take her out in public,” he said, his voice light. He then grabbed a handful of pistachios. “Shell these quietly. You might scare her to death.” A few people at the table snorted, trying to stifle their laughter. Lily’s face flushed. She mumbled an excuse about needing the restroom and fled. Later that evening, exhausted and sleepy, I decided to leave early. I saw Liam step out to take a call and followed him. I wanted to thank him. I’d come all this way, and at my most vulnerable moment, he’d saved me. The hallway was dimly lit. Liam was at the far end, his voice low and cool, echoing slightly in the empty space. I realized then that he was the Student Body President. He had another commitment tonight but had postponed it for this party. I waited a few feet away for him to finish his call. When he saw me, he paused. “I’ll call you back.” He hung up and turned to me. “What’s up?” “Tonight… thank you.” Liam leaned against the windowsill, just watching me. Just when I was starting to think I had something on my face, he asked, “Want to go to the amusement park tomorrow?” “With you?” “Who else?” he asked, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Didn’t you post about wanting to go? You shouldn’t come all this way for nothing.” The wind from the open window stirred his dark hair, the hem of his white shirt fluttering. The casual way he looked at me made all the hurt I’d been suppressing bubble to the surface. I quickly looked down, wiping my eyes. “Thanks. I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow, then.” Liam was quiet for a long moment. I thought he was going to make fun of me for being a crybaby, but instead, he drew out the words slowly, “Alright, girlfriend.” 4 Liam had to leave early for his student government meeting. When I came out of the restroom, I ran into Lily. There was a fresh bite mark on her lip. The second she saw me, the tears started falling. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I never meant for any of this to happen. Can you please forgive me?” I just felt sick. I pushed her hand away and took out my phone. “How much was the hotel room? I’ll transfer you the money.” Lily froze. “Chloe… I’m sorry. I forgot to book you a hotel.” Her voice sounded distant, like it was coming from underwater. I thought I must have misheard. Was this really the best friend I had trusted completely? She had insisted on booking the hotel for me, telling me to just worry about getting here. And now this. “Lily, you did this on purpose, didn’t you?” “I’m sorry,” she said, looking pained. “All the rooms near campus were booked, and Caleb was being so persistent… I just forgot. You can stay in my dorm tonight, if you want?” I didn’t want to hear any more. I turned to leave. But she grabbed my arm. “Chloe, wait. Liam has a girl he likes. He… he was just helping you out tonight. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and get hurt again.” I looked at her, at this carefully crafted, innocent victim act, and I was just done. I yanked my arm free. Lily, caught off guard, stumbled and fell to the floor with a dramatic, “delicate” thud. A sarcastic smile twisted my lips. “What, are you a mind reader now? You know what Liam is thinking?” Lily kept her head down, but her breathing was suddenly ragged. Caleb appeared out of nowhere, shoving me aside to help her up. “Does that cake you brought have mango in it?” he demanded. I just stared at him coldly. His anger flared. “Don’t you know Lily’s allergic to mangoes? Are you trying to kill her?” For the first time, I noticed the purplish tint to Lily’s lips. I knew she was allergic. But the mangoes… Lily was the one who told me to add them. “It’s Caleb’s favorite,” she’d said. 5 At one in the morning, Lily was admitted to the university hospital. The doctor sighed. “If you know you’re allergic, why would you eat it? Do you have a death wish?” Caleb whipped his head around, his face dark as he glared at me. “She’s in there because of you. Are you happy now?” I took a deep breath. “Caleb, are you an idiot?” I shot back. “Lily knew there were mangoes in that cake. She’s the one who couldn’t control herself. What does that have to do with me?” His gaze turned to ice. “Stop pretending, Chloe.” “Don’t think I don’t know why you really came here.” “Does it bother you that much that she and I are together? Did you have to bring a poisoned cake just to hurt her?” Looking at this man, so blind and unfair, I felt a sharp, clear pang of regret. Regret for all the times he’d stayed after school to tutor me in math. Regret for when he’d encouraged me to apply to the same university. Regret for when he’d joked about how lost I’d be without him. I shouldn’t have ever thought he liked me. I hadn’t slept in over a day. The exhaustion was making my heart pound erratically. I closed my eyes for a second, then took out my phone and dialed 911 without a second thought. Just before the call connected, Caleb snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it on the floor. “Enough! How long are you going to keep this up?” I stared at the shattered phone, then slowly crouched down and began to pick up the pieces. Then, I stood up and threw them all in his face. I had a crush on him for seven years. That didn’t mean I didn’t have any pride. “Doctor,” I said, my voice shaking. “Could you please call the police for me?” I was at my limit. Black spots danced in my vision. As I started to fall backward, a pair of strong hands caught me, steadying me. The clean scent of soap and mint filled my senses. Liam’s cool, clear voice came from above me. “She didn’t eat much for dinner. It’s probably low blood sugar. Doctor, could you please take a look at her?” Through the haze of my fading consciousness, I thought I heard him dialing a number. His voice was a distant, cold murmur. “Hello, I’d like to report an incident.” 6 The doctor gave me a glucose packet, and the world slowly came back into focus. Liam had finished his call and was now staring at Lily with a flat, unreadable expression. Lily flinched and burrowed deeper into Caleb’s arms. “I… I only had a little taste. The cake was just sitting there, it was meant to be eaten.” “The doctor seems to think you had more than just a little taste,” Liam said, his face impassive. “I think it’s best if we get the security footage and clear this all up with the police.” I knew from high school that Lily was terrified of authority. Just seeing a cop on the street made her walk funny. Now, with the police actually on their way, she was frozen to the spot. I explained everything, from start to finish. The officer pointed to the security footage on his monitor, which clearly showed Lily eating three large slices of the cake. “You knew you were allergic, and you ate three pieces? You couldn’t taste the giant mango filling?” Lily was pale with fear. All she could do was apologize over and over. “I’m sorry… I just have a sweet tooth. It won’t happen again.” She hung her head, silent tears tracking down her cheeks. Caleb, of course, softened. “Alright, just try to control yourself next time.” His tone was a world away from the venom he’d directed at me. Lily’s eyes reddened, and she was about to lean on him for comfort. But I took Liam’s phone and held up the payment app’s QR code to Caleb. “Lily ate my cake, and you broke my phone. In front of a police officer and a doctor, it’s time to pay up.” Liam, suddenly brought into it, chimed in smoothly, “I can confirm. My girlfriend has indeed suffered a financial loss.” Caleb’s face was a mask of thunder. “Chloe, are you really going to be like this with me?” “You told me to get lost. Should I be thanking you for smashing my phone?” With the police present, Caleb quickly transferred the money. But as he watched Liam help me out of the hospital, his expression turned dark and stormy. 7 I walked out of the hospital and down a small alley, my pace getting faster and faster. When I turned a corner onto an empty street, I finally collapsed, crouching down and burying my face in my knees. The summer night was silent. A sea of purple lilacs spilled through the bars of an old, wrought-iron fence from a nearby apartment complex. A breeze rustled through them, sending petals drifting to the ground. The streetlight was dim, casting only two shadows on the pavement. Mine, crumpled on the ground. And Liam’s, standing a few feet away. “It’s okay,” he said. “Go ahead and cry. I won’t tell anyone.” The dam broke. A sob tore from my throat, echoing through the empty street, lost in the scent of the lilacs. Before I came here, I had prepared myself. Rejection was fine. At least I would have Lily. On the bus ride, we had chatted excitedly about everything—food, sights to see, which bar we’d hit if the confession was a disaster. But in the span of a single day, I’d been humiliated by Caleb and betrayed by Lily. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Liam stood a short distance behind me, giving me space, shielding me from view. After a long time, I finally stood up, my eyes swollen. “Thank you, for today.” Liam didn’t look at me. He was staring at his phone, his voice casual. “It’s three hours till sunrise. Get some sleep. We can do the amusement park the day after tomorrow, okay?” “Okay,” I croaked. Just then, a police car pulled up beside us. The window rolled down, and the officer inside greeted Liam like an old friend. “Liam, this is your friend?” “Yeah,” Liam said. “She couldn’t get a hotel. My aunt said she could stay at her place tonight. Could you give her a ride?” “Sure thing. Hop in.” Seeing my confused expression, Liam explained quietly, “My uncle. I figured you’d feel safer if he was the one to drive you.” It clicked. He was worried I wouldn’t trust him. So he had his police officer uncle take me to a safe place for the night. I opened my mouth, but I’d already said “thank you” too many times tonight. So I said something else instead. “The day after tomorrow… I’m buying you dinner.” Liam smiled, as if he knew what I’d been thinking. “You already said that, too.” He opened the car door for me, saving me from my embarrassment. “Alright, see you in two days.” The door closed. Before I could say goodbye, his figure was already shrinking in the distance, a dark silhouette against the fading streetlights. 8 I never would have guessed that Liam’s aunt lived in the residential quarters right next to the police station. I felt so safe that I slept for a full day and night. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw a text from Liam. “Text me when you’re awake.” I stared at the message for a moment, then shot out of bed. I had a date with Liam at the amusement park, and I was going to be late. I rushed to the park, arriving out of breath. Liam was sitting on a park bench, his long legs stretched out in front of him, looking relaxed and at ease. Sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling him in gold. “When did you get here?” I panted. He placed a sunhat on my head, his voice laced with a smile. “Just now. Not too early, not too late, girlfriend.” Then, he casually took my hand. My entire body went rigid. Liam leaned in close, whispering, “Don’t look now. Caleb’s behind us.” Sure enough, I heard Lily’s voice. I cursed my luck. Why did they have to be everywhere? I deliberately leaned closer to Liam, pressing against his arm. “Let’s go to the haunted house.” Lily was a coward. She’d avoid a place like that. But as the park attendant was sorting us into groups, I saw her, clinging to Caleb’s arm, walking right in. “Chloe, I was calling you… you didn’t hear me.” Caleb’s gaze lingered on my and Liam’s clasped hands for a second before he looked away, his expression cold. He said to Liam, “Wanna team up?” Liam looked at me. “I don’t mind,” I said. So, of course, Liam didn’t mind either. The four of us were sent down the same path. The moment we stepped inside, the world went dark. Lily immediately shrank into Caleb’s arms. “Caleb, I’m so scared.” Honestly, so was I. But I was too proud to cling to Liam. I just gripped his hand tightly, my steps quick and nervous. Sensing the sweat on my palm, Liam squeezed my hand. “Slow down. We’ll get out.” I nodded, but a cold draft on the back of my neck made me hurry anyway. Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream from Lily echoed from around a corner. I jumped, and Liam pulled me back, into his arms. The chilling cold vanished, replaced by the solid warmth of his body. “Shh…” His warm breath grazed my ear. I think his lips might have brushed against my skin. “The ‘ghost’ is over there. You almost ran right into him.” Lily was sobbing hysterically now. I forgot all about being proper and just clung to Liam’s waist. “Don’t let him come over here, please, don’t let him come over here…” I think Liam might have chuckled. “Okay.” The sound of rattling chains seemed to be getting closer. Liam gently pressed my head against his chest and said to the actor, “Hey man, can you give us a break? My girlfriend’s a little scared.” The actor let out a frustrated roar, then dragged his chains away, muttering under his breath. Even after he was gone, Liam didn’t let go. I could hear the frantic beating of both our hearts, mingled with our soft, warm breaths. I finally realized how close we were. “Can you walk?” Liam’s voice was a low murmur, almost a whisper. My face was burning. I started to let go. “I’m sorry… I…” He tightened his grip. “Nothing to be sorry about.” His words were like a feather, settling gently on my heart. His palm felt impossibly hot against mine. I looked up and met Caleb’s eyes across the narrow passage. His expression was dark, unreadable. Then he looked away. The rest of the way, the actors left us alone, but Lily’s screams continued to punctuate the darkness. Liam led me out, shaken but unscathed. I had some dust on my arm, so I went to the restroom to clean up. Lily followed me in. “Chloe, why have you been ignoring me?” In the bright light of the restroom, I saw that she had dressed up today, wearing a cute, photo-ready dress. She was looking at me with big, wounded eyes. I dried my hands and turned to leave. Suddenly, her voice rose. “Chloe, were we ever really friends?” “I thought you would be happy for us.” That hit a nerve. I turned back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lily, have you lost your mind?” She looked stung. “I know you have a crush on Caleb, but you didn’t get into the same university as us! I had to watch him for you every day. Of course I was going to fall for him…” “Then why did you push me to confess?” “Because I couldn’t hold my feelings in anymore! I never meant for us to get together, but he just came over and kissed me, and you know I can’t say no—” “Enough!” I cut her off. “You’re innocent, you’re weak, you can’t say no when someone confesses to you, you can’t resist a piece of cake you know will hurt you. And in the end, I’m the one who has to deal with the consequences. How dare you ask me to be your friend?” Lily just stared at me, her eyes red, silent. We heard Caleb’s voice from outside. “Lily, are you ready?” She wiped her tears and whispered, “It’s all my fault. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll break up with him, okay?” Then she pushed the door open and ran out.

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Isabelle Croft had always been the queen of our campus, an ice princess enthroned, and I was the only one she ever let into her frozen kingdom. But then the new transfer, Caleb Ryder, arrived. He started engineering “chance” encounters, a constant, smirking presence in her orbit. Everyone whispered that the new flame could never outshine the lifelong friend, that Caleb’s little stunts were a waste of time. A story as old as time. They were wrong. It all shattered the night a man with a grudge against the Croft empire slipped past campus security and took Caleb hostage. In that moment, Isabelle’s composure finally broke. She didn’t hesitate. She threw herself in front of Caleb, taking the knife that was meant for him. Even as she lay bleeding, her life fading, she just caressed Caleb’s face. “As long as you’re okay…” she whispered. I stood on the edge of the crowd, the world’s biggest fool, a punchline for a joke I never knew I was a part of. Later, in the sterile silence of the hospital room, Isabelle was a mess of tubes and monitors. She struggled to speak, her voice a dry rasp, but her words were for me. “I don’t want to owe him anything,” she said. “Leave him alone.” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. This twisted little drama of love and hate belonged to them now. I had no part to play. The moment that man chose Caleb as the perfect leverage against her, my own irrelevance became blindingly clear. Fine. I’m out. 1 I had just finalized the last of my paperwork to study abroad when Isabelle walked in. Her eyes fell on the passport and the crisp visa documents on the table, and a flicker of confusion crossed her face. “I thought we were doing this together.” It took me a beat to realize she was talking about the European trip we’d planned for the summer. A lifetime ago. This was not a tourist visa. I gathered the documents, my movements slow and deliberate, and shook my head. A practiced, placating smile touched her lips. “I didn’t forget, Leo,” she cooed. “It’s just… Caleb’s cast isn’t even off yet.” Caleb Ryder. When Isabelle had shoved him out of the way of the knife, he’d stumbled and fractured his tibia. “We’ll go as soon as he’s fully healed, okay? I promise.” “It doesn’t matter anymore, Isabelle. My plans have nothing to do with you.” The smile vanished. “Leo, I know you’re angry. But I told you, I just didn’t want to be indebted to him.” Her voice took on a sharper edge. “Besides, you waited months to do this, long after I was out of the hospital. You were obviously waiting for me. Don’t pretend this isn’t about us.” A dull ache pulsed in my chest. She thought I’d been waiting for her. The truth was, I’d submitted my applications the same night she’d taken that knife for him. The bureaucracy was slow, but she saw the delay as proof of her power over me, another reason to take my devotion for granted. I suppose I’d enabled it. For years, my love for her had been unconditional, a quiet, steady force she’d learned to treat as a natural resource. “I just didn’t want him to get hurt because of me,” she continued, her tone shifting from placating to the cool, detached logic she was known for. “It wasn’t about humiliating you.” “But you’re still sulking,” she said, the warmth gone completely. “You’ve been giving me the silent treatment for months. It makes things awkward for me and Caleb. I have to endure all the gossip and stares just to have a conversation with you.” She paused, her gaze unwavering. “I think you need a little reminder.” Her hand went to her phone. She stared right at me as she dialed, her voice perfectly calm. “Mr. Davison? I need you to terminate Leo’s father. Effective immediately.” My jaw went slack. My blood ran cold. She put the call on speaker. The hesitant voice of her father’s Senior VP came through the phone. “Ms. Croft, with all due respect, his father has been with us for nearly a decade. He’s a senior manager… and besides, I thought he and your son, Leo…” Isabelle cut him off, her voice like ice. “I said now, Mr. Davison. Right now.” Less than three minutes later, a text from my dad lit up my screen. Son, did you do something to upset Isabelle? A second later, the message was deleted. My fists clenched. My entire body hummed with a rage I couldn’t voice. Our family’s company went under ten years ago. Isabelle’s father had given my dad a position, a lifeline that kept us afloat. But before all that, before the bankruptcy, it was my father’s mentorship that had helped build the Croft empire in the first place. This wasn’t just business. This was a deliberate, cruel severing of ties, a middle finger to decades of shared history. I forced the words through my teeth. “Isabelle, have you even considered what our parents will think about this?” She was unmoved. “Why should I care? It’s not like you’ll starve. You can always come live with me. I’ll take care of you.” The condescension in her voice made my stomach turn. She knew. She knew how much I’d always hated the rumors that painted me as her follower, her glorified assistant. Ignoring my fury, she reached out, her fingers gently smoothing the crease between my brows. “Don’t be angry,” she murmured, her voice softening into a familiar, intimate whisper. “It makes you look ugly.” It was so casual, so disarmingly familiar, like a scene from a life before Caleb Ryder ever existed. A life where there were no cracks in our foundation, where she’d sketch out our future with a seriousness that belied a secret, childlike innocence—a side of her no one else ever saw. But someone else saw it now. I pulled my head back. Her hand froze in mid-air. A slow, chilling smile spread across her face, as if she’d just discovered a fascinating new game. “Leo,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush, “do you have any idea how much… when you’re angry like this…” She leaned closer. “You look just like Caleb.” 2 Screech. The sound of my chair scraping against the floor cut through the quiet cafe. I ignored the heads that turned in our direction, my gaze locked on her, cold and final. “Take care of yourself, Isabelle.” Without another word, I gathered my papers and walked out, leaving her sitting there. I didn’t look back, but I felt her eyes on me. A few seconds later, I heard her own chair move, and she stormed off in the opposite direction. Back at my apartment, an anonymous email was waiting for me. I opened it without surprise. Just as I’d expected, it was a message from my mysterious benefactor, offering a list of executive-level job openings for my father. This had been happening for months. When I first started the process of applying to schools abroad, this person had offered to handle everything. I’d refused, yet every step of the way—from transcripts to recommendations—had felt suspiciously smooth. They seemed to know everything about me, materializing with a solution every time I hit a snag. I’d tried to trace the source, but it was like chasing a ghost. As usual, I typed a polite refusal. A moment later, a formal invitation to the Croft family’s annual gala appeared in my inbox. A message from Isabelle’s father. I decided to go. It was time to sever this last tie, cleanly and for good. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Caleb Ryder there, preening in a bespoke suit from Isabelle’s private designer label. Her favor had turned him into the evening’s mystery guest, the man everyone was whispering about. I kept my distance, but he sought me out, a smirk playing on his lips as he raised his glass. “Still giving Isabelle the cold shoulder? Take some friendly advice, man. Don’t overestimate your importance.” He leaned in, his voice dropping. “After all those years you spent playing the perfect gentleman, who do you think was the one to finally get her to let go?” He loosened his tie, tilting his neck to the side. A constellation of hickeys, new and old, dotted his skin. It was impossible to count how many times she’d been with him. I closed my eyes for a second, then turned to walk away. He threw an arm around my shoulder, stepping in front of me again, his voice a greasy whisper. “She’s a wildcat in bed, you know. All that ice just melts. I bet you never even got close, did you? Too busy being the good little boy.” He laughed. “Once she got a taste of a real man, she was begging me for more.” That was it. I snapped. My fist connected with his face in a single, satisfying crack. “Keep the details of your sordid little affair to yourself.” The commotion drew every eye in the room. Caleb staggered back, blood trickling from his nose, his moment of glory shattered. I took a step back, gave a brief, apologetic nod to Isabelle’s father across the room, and headed for the exit. I’d barely made it to the lobby when Isabelle caught up to me, her face a mask of fury. “Leo, you’ve gone too far! I want you to go back in there right now and apologize to Caleb in front of everyone!” My voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. “By telling him to stop broadcasting your private life to the entire world? Was I wrong?” I let my gaze drift down to her collarbone, where a faint red mark peeked out from the edge of her gown. Her eyes widened in surprise. “You knew?” She stared at me, a strange look of disbelief on her face. “Why aren’t you angry?” Of course. In her world, I was a fixed star, destined to revolve around her forever. My indifference was a disruption of the natural order. She couldn’t comprehend it. “Oh, I get it,” she said, a confident smirk returning to her lips. “This is your new strategy, isn’t it? Trying to get my attention by pretending you don’t care.” I took another step back, putting more space between us. Seeing this, she switched tactics instantly, her entire demeanor softening. She closed the distance between us, her movements slinking and playful as she draped her arms around my neck. “Oh, come on, Leo… don’t be like this…” The cluster of hickeys on her neck was right there, impossible to ignore, a vulgar tattoo against her pale skin. Her red lips, parted and glistening, moved as she spoke. A wave of nausea washed over me. I shoved her away, doubling over as my stomach churned, and vomited onto the pristine marble floor. Isabelle’s face flushed as if I’d slapped her. Her voice was sharp with rage and humiliation. “What the hell, Leo? Don’t you dare stand there and pretend you’re so pure! I know you’ve wanted me for years!” I wiped my mouth, the bitter taste of bile coating my tongue. I forced myself to look at her and managed to choke out a single word. “Filthy.” The color drained from her face. That one word stripped her of every last shred of dignity. Her eyes narrowed, filled with a cold, venomous promise. “Fine,” she hissed. “You remember what you did tonight, Leo. I’m going to make you regret it.” 3 She had tried to placate me, to charm her way back into my good graces, and I had thrown it all back in her face. Her patience had finally reached its limit. I didn’t give much thought to how she planned to make me “regret it.” I should have. The next day at the university, I walked into class and was hit by a wall of stench. My desk was overflowing with rotting garbage. Students nearby pinched their noses, shooting me looks of disgust. The whispers followed me. “Guess Leo’s not the golden boy anymore. Looks like Caleb is the real deal.” “Yeah, Isabelle would never do something like this to someone she actually cared about.” “I heard she told everyone not to help him. He’s going to be totally ostracized.” “Serves him right. He was always just her shadow anyway. It’s not like he has any other friends.” An involuntary tremor ran through me. She was using my own trauma against me. After my family went bankrupt, this was my life. The social ruin, the isolation, the constant, petty acts of cruelty from people who suddenly saw me as less than human. Back then, Isabelle had been my shield. She’d stood in front of me, a small, fierce protector against the world. And now… she was the one orchestrating the attack, using the very wounds she’d once healed as a weapon. Had she forgotten? Or did she simply not care anymore? I fought to steady my breathing, telling myself to stay calm. I was about to start clearing the mess when Caleb Ryder and a group of his cronies from the football team burst into the room. “Leo,” he said, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “Isabelle asked me to deliver a little gift.” I froze, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. Without another word, Caleb nodded to his friends. Two of them, built like linemen, grabbed me. I struggled, landing a solid punch on one of them, but I was outnumbered and overpowered. Caleb leaned in close, holding up his phone. A live video was playing. The subject was my father. My pupils contracted. “What are you doing?!” I roared. On the screen, my dad was at the wheel of his car. The camera shook violently, and the car swerved, hitting a concrete barrier. Before he could even unbuckle his seatbelt, a burly man with menacing tattoos covering his arms yanked him out of the car. Caleb’s voice was a gleeful whisper in my ear. “I just mentioned to Isabelle that my jaw still hurt from your punch. She was more than happy to tell me exactly where your weak spots were.” Just then, Isabelle herself walked into the classroom. She saw me being restrained, but her only concern was for Caleb. “Feeling better now?” she asked him softly. Every muscle in my body strained, veins popping on my neck. “Isabelle!” I snarled, the name a curse. She finally looked at me, her expression cold as stone. “You hit my boyfriend at my family’s gala. That’s the same as hitting me. Humiliating me.” She shrugged. “Your father loses a leg. Caleb lost face. It seems like a fair trade.” Caleb, basking in her defense, smirked at me and spoke into his phone. “Do it.” “NO!” With a surge of pure adrenaline, I threw the two men off me and lunged for the phone. But I was too late. I saw it all. The man on the other end of the call lifted a heavy iron pipe and, without a moment’s hesitation, brought it down on my father’s leg. The sickening crack of bone and my father’s agonized scream hit me at the same time. My world tilted. I stumbled, nearly collapsing. Isabelle’s face paled slightly. She rushed forward to steady me, but her words were utterly devoid of compassion. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like it happened to you.” It felt like a hand was crushing my heart. She knew. She knew my dad and I had been a team, just the two of us, since I was a kid. She knew how he’d worked himself to the bone to build a life for us, only to lose it all. She remembered how she’d been the one to comfort me, to fight for me, when everyone else had turned their backs. Back then, I thought we had a bond that could never be broken. How ironic. When the love died, it didn’t just disappear. It twisted, metastasizing into a weapon she now aimed not just at me, but at the only family I had left. Something inside me snapped. I launched myself forward, kicking Caleb square in the chest and sending him sprawling. Before anyone could react, I brought my heel down hard on his uninjured leg. Not satisfied, I grabbed a broken chair leg from the corner and began bringing it down on his leg again, and again, and again. The room was filled with the sounds of my ragged breaths and the wet thud of wood against flesh. The other students were frozen, staring in horrified silence. “Leo, stop!” Isabelle, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fury, threw herself in front of Caleb, shielding him with her body. The chair leg connected with her arm. She cried out in pain. A chilling cold washed over me. She was protecting him. Just like I had once protected her. Caleb pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. “Isabelle, why would you do that?!” But she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were locked on me. “Are we even now, Leo?” she asked, her voice strained. I gripped the makeshift club, my knuckles white. I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. “If this makes you feel better,” she gasped, “then you have to promise to leave Caleb alone from now on.” I stared at her, incredulous. The man she was protecting had just ordered my father’s leg to be broken. His own injuries were superficial at best. And she was asking me to call it even? “Leo, I don’t want you to live with so much hatred in your heart. It will destroy you.” Caleb, clutching his leg, glared at me with pure venom. “The one who can’t let go of a grudge is him, Isabelle,” I bit out. “I was just returning the favor. You should be saying that to him!” Her face twisted in disbelief. “I already told you! Your father’s injury was payback for you hitting Caleb in public! That doesn’t give you the right to attack him like this!” A wild, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I was done talking. I shoved her aside, grabbed a whole chair this time, and brought it down towards Caleb. Today, he was going to learn what regret really felted like.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384873”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For three months, I practically lived at the office while pregnant, pushing my team to the brink. We survived on IV drips and held meetings at midnight. But on signing day, my new assistant used security footage of my bathroom breaks to fire me for “slacking off.” I brought the termination to my husband, the CEO. He coldly cited company policy—a five-break daily limit—and backed her decision to maintain her authority. “Now you can focus on the baby,” he said. I spotted lace lingerie with snowflake embroidery under his sofa. A bitter laugh escaped me. I tossed the notice on his desk, walked out, and called our biggest competitor. “Do you limit bathroom breaks?” I asked. “If not, I’ll be in your office tomorrow with a new client to sign.” 1. “Elara, are you messing with me?” On the other end of the line, Marcus Thorne’s voice was laced with disbelief. “I’m not joking,” I said calmly. “If you agree, I’m bringing the Sterling Group account with me. We sign tomorrow. Once it’s done, your company will be the biggest player in Northgate City.” Marcus hesitated. “Did you and Leo have a fight? Are you just using me to make him angry?” He continued, his voice softening. “Everyone in the industry knows you’re the engine of that company. You’re the one who carries all the weight for Leo.” “You sold the apartment your parents left you so that kid from nowhere could start his business. You’ve landed every major deal they’ve ever had.” “For the Sterling account, you worked yourself so sick you were fainting from morning sickness. Your team wanted to take you to the ER, but you refused because you were afraid of delaying the signing. You just…” I froze, wondering how he knew all that. As he finished, a bitter smile touched my lips. He was right. Everyone knew how much I’d sacrificed for Leo. I once believed we were building an empire together, from scratch. Today, that beautiful dream was shattered. Leo and I had no connections, just two kids from a small town with big dreams, fighting our way to the top in the big city. We started with nothing and finally, painstakingly, built our own company. Six months ago, I told him I was pregnant. His hands were shaking with excitement. But when I suggested we finally make it official and get married, he fell silent for a long time. “Elara,” he finally said, “once we land the Sterling Group contract, we’ll be the industry leader. Our dream of making it in this city will finally be real.” “Don’t you want to walk down the aisle at the height of our success?” “Let’s just wait until the Sterling contract is signed. Then we’ll get married, okay?” I agreed. Yesterday, Sterling confirmed. The signing was scheduled. I was so overwhelmed with joy that I stepped out of the office and promptly fainted on the sidewalk. I was rushed to the hospital. The moment I woke up, I hurried back to the office to finalize the contract. But my key card wouldn’t work. Facial recognition failed. I’d been blacklisted. I managed to get a friendly intern to let me in, only to find all my personal effects dumped in a trash heap. My wedding photo with Leo was covered in muddy footprints, my smiling face scribbled over with a black marker. And sitting at my desk, my desk, was the new assistant—Crystal Snow. She was scrolling through her phone, her long, red nails tapping the screen. She pulled up a video file: three months of security footage of me going to the bathroom. “New company rule,” she said with a smirk. “No more than five bathroom breaks per shift, five minutes max each time.” “You’ve been going more than ten times a day. Who knows if you were actually working or just slacking off.” “If everyone behaved like you, how would this company function?” I was baffled. Since when was this a rule? I went straight to Leo’s office and told him everything. He was dismissive. “I hired Crystal from a top-tier firm for a reason. Her rules are based on their best practices. Of course, we have to follow them.” I fought to keep my voice even. I told him I was pregnant, that the stress and workload were making my morning sickness unbearable, that the bathroom trips were a necessity. He waved his hand impatiently. “That’s just your weak constitution. Don’t use it as an excuse.” “Maybe I make an exception for your morning sickness today. But what about tomorrow? What’s to stop anyone from faking a stomach ache after slacking off in the bathroom, demanding I look the other way? How am I supposed to manage that?” My face flushed with anger, my eyes stinging with tears. In his eyes, my pregnancy was no different from a case of diarrhea. Before I could argue further, Crystal walked in, phone in hand. “Elara,” she said, her tone dripping with false sympathy, “the new policy is to streamline our workforce. That means pregnant employees are the first to go. I was trying to do you a favor by not firing you outright, given your relationship with Leo.” “But you’ve broken the rules too many times. If I don’t act, no one will take me seriously. How can I lead the team?” She looked me up and down. “Besides, you’re a high-risk pregnancy. You should be at home resting. Running to the bathroom all day to goof off not only kills productivity, it makes the whole company look unprofessional.” I stared at her, my voice cold. “My pregnancy and my bathroom trips didn’t stop me from landing the Sterling contract for this company.” “And I’m the Vice President. No new rule should be implemented without my approval.” Her eyes welled up with tears. Leo slammed his hand on the desk. “That’s enough!” He saw the shock and hurt in my eyes and his scowl deepened. “This rule came from me. If you have a problem, take it up with me. You’re fired. Stop pulling rank on her.” “And don’t you dare use that contract as leverage,” he snarled. “Crystal told me everything. You were in the bathroom all day while the rest of the team did your work for you.” “If being pregnant and working is so stressful that you have to hide in the bathroom, then Crystal firing you so you can rest at home is a favor! You should be thanking her, not bullying her in front of her direct supervisor!” His jaw tightened. “Now, apologize to Crystal.” Apologize? I took a long, hard look at this man, my partner of ten years, from college dorms to the corporate world. I remembered when a key developer challenged my authority, simply because I was a woman. Leo, without a second thought, fired him on the spot, disregarding the critical tech the man controlled. He held my hand in front of the entire company and said, “Elara is my wife, and she is my partner. Disrespecting her is disrespecting me. And this company has no place for anyone who disrespects women.” That speech went viral. We were lauded as the best startup of the year. That was only a year ago. Now, he was letting some new assistant disrespect me, discriminate against me for being pregnant. I took a deep breath, ready to unleash a decade of fury, when my eyes caught it again. The lace underwear under the sofa cushion. The tiny, embroidered snowflakes. It wasn’t mine. A wave of nausea and disgust washed over me. I stumbled, and as I looked up, I saw Crystal watching me with a look of pure triumph. It was hers. Suddenly, all the words caught in my throat felt meaningless. I pulled my employee ID from my pocket and tossed it onto the sofa. “You want to fire me? Fine. As per my contract, a severance of 2N+1. If that money isn’t in my account by tonight, I have no problem taking this to arbitration. We’ll see who’s embarrassed and paying fines then.” “And one more thing,” I added, my voice ringing with cold finality. “I landed that project. You fire me, you can kiss the Sterling Group goodbye.” I watched the color drain from their faces, then turned and walked out with a scornful laugh. The first thing I did was call Marcus. They could have their sordid affair. They were not getting the project I bled for. Marcus’s voice came back over the line, firm and resolute. “I don’t care if you’re using me to get back at him. I’m taking this seriously. You come to my company, the VP position is yours. And if you’re worried about managing work with the baby, I’ll help you.” “That won’t be necessary,” I said with a small smile. For some reason, his voice seemed to drop a little at my answer. “Alright. See you at the signing tomorrow.” I hung up and went home to pack. Thank God we never got married. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with a divorce. But the baby… I placed a hand on my belly. After a moment, my gaze hardened. Better to have no father than to have one like Leo. I started packing as soon as I got home. In the corner of our study was a storage box with a note taped to it: “Leo’s Treasures – Do Not Touch.” It was the box where he kept every gift I’d ever given him, even used mugs and hair ties. “One day,” he’d said, “we’ll show all of this to our son. Proof of our love story.” I wanted a clean break, but seeing that box made my heart ache. I opened it. And I froze. It wasn’t filled with my old things. It was a sordid collection of toys, lubricants, and scraps of fetish lingerie. My head exploded. On the desk, Leo’s laptop was open. His chat with Crystal was still on the screen, new messages popping up: “Of course I defended you. If you hadn’t been here to help me… de-stress… these past few months, I would have lost my mind.” “Wear the bunny costume tonight. A little pre-celebration for the signing tomorrow, okay?” My vision went black at the edges. Clenching my jaw, I transferred the entire chat history and all the videos to my phone. It wasn’t enough. My eyes landed on a bag of fresh peaches on the counter. I grabbed a handful and rubbed them vigorously all over the lingerie and toys in the box, making sure the microscopic fuzz got into every crevice. You two like to play? Then play hard. Just as I finished packing and was about to leave, the front door opened. Leo walked in. He saw my suitcase and froze, then broke into a grin. “What’s this? I say a few harsh words and you’re running away from home?” “I was just being professional. You’re my wife, so I have to be even stricter with you. It’s the only way to get the staff to respect the rules.” “Alright, stop sulking. I bought your favorite fish. We’re celebrating the signing tomorrow.” Before I could speak, Crystal waltzed in behind him. “Oh, sister-in-law, I don’t like it steamed. Make it spicy, okay?” “That’s right,” Leo chimed in. “Crystal likes bold flavors. Make it good.” He added, “Poor thing’s been working so hard she hasn’t eaten all day. Not like you, taking the day off to rest.” He tried to shove the bag of fish into my hands and push me toward the kitchen. My face went cold. I threw the fish back at him. “I’m not cooking.” His expression darkened instantly. He grabbed my arm. “What the hell is wrong with you? Has the pregnancy made you stupid? Don’t you understand basic courtesy?” “You embarrassed Crystal at the office today! I brought her here specifically so you could make her a nice dinner as an apology, and this is how you act?” “Leo, it’s okay,” Crystal interjected, the perfect martyr. “Elara’s carrying your child. It’s normal for her to be a little moody. I can handle it.” “Moody doesn’t give her the right to be a tyrant!” Her words only fueled his anger. He dragged me to the kitchen, shoved me inside, and locked the door. “You’re not coming out until you’ve cooked dinner!” I fell hard. A searing pain shot through my abdomen. A cold sweat broke out all over my body. I scrambled to the door, pounding on it with what little strength I had. “Leo! Let me out! My stomach… I fell… take me to the hospital…” I heard Crystal’s saccharine voice from the other side. “Leo, I think Elara’s just angry I’m here. She’s probably just using the baby to guilt you. Maybe I should just go?” The footsteps outside paused. Then, Leo’s voice, colder than ice: “I ask you to make one meal, and you threaten me with the baby’s safety? You’re being irrational.” I couldn’t tell what hurt more, my heart or my stomach. I just kept pleading, my voice growing weaker. “Fine. Don’t cook. Come on, Crystal. We’ll go to a Michelin-star restaurant.” “Oh, Leo, you’re the best~” The pain was so intense I could barely speak. “I’m not lying… It really… hurts…” The only response was the slam of the front door. My world went black. I woke up in a hospital room. And sitting by my bed was Marcus. He saw my eyes open and let out a huge sigh of relief. “I called you a dozen times, you didn’t pick up. I was terrified. I thought after your fight, Leo might have… done something. So I came to check on you.” “I found you passed out on the kitchen floor. The doctor said you just fell and bruised your stomach. The baby is okay.” I gave a weak, bitter smile. He wasn’t wrong. Leo had done something. I thanked him, my voice hoarse, and reached for my phone. I needed to contact the Sterling Group and let them know I was now with Marcus’s firm. But my screen was flooded with texts from Crystal. And a video. “Look at you, the washed-up housewife. So what if you’re carrying Leo’s baby? He still kicked you out and gave your job and your office to me.” “Leo told me he’s sick of you. All you do is work, work, work. No fun at all. And you stink now that you’re pregnant. He prefers someone young and fun like me. Hehe, maybe it won’t be long before I’m taking your place at home, too.” “Oh, and he said a housewife has no business being the project lead for Sterling. Don’t bother showing up to the signing tomorrow. I’ll go in your place. Save everyone from having to look at your bloated, pregnant body.” I stared at her taunts, my face a blank mask. Before I could even process my anger, Marcus exploded. “Who the hell does she think she is, talking to you like that!” He stared at me, his eyes red with fury. “And you’re not even angry? Do you really love him that much? Enough to let this… this trash walk all over you?” He looked away, his voice thick with emotion. “Elara, if I had a wife like you, I’d treat you like a queen. I would never, ever let anyone hurt you.” I calmly typed a reply to Crystal: “You can have the trash. You’re not touching my project.” I looked up at Marcus, confused. “What did you just say?” He gritted his teeth. “Nothing. I just said, I’m your boss now. They try to steal your project, I’ll destroy them.” I nodded. “Good.” The doctor warned that I needed complete bed rest, or I could lose the baby. I immediately requested three months of maternity leave from Marcus, to begin right after the signing. As I was leaving the maternity ward, I ran into a couple frantically scratching themselves, their skin covered in angry red welts. It was Leo and Crystal. When Leo saw me, his face went pale. He rushed toward me. “Elara, did you do something to my things in the study? What did you put in there? The doctor can’t find the allergen, we can’t stop itching!” I knew immediately. They’d used the peach-fuzzed lingerie. I feigned ignorance. “What things? Describe them to me. Maybe it’ll jog my memory.” His face cycled through shades of red and purple, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. I smirked and pulled out my phone, showing him the chat logs and the videos Crystal had sent me. “Oh, you mean this bunny costume? I was eating a peach yesterday. Some of the fuzz must have fallen on it by accident.” “You!” he hissed, his face livid. “You’re insane! You went through my laptop? You had someone film us? What are you trying to do?” He pointed a trembling, rash-covered finger at me. “You did this to us! I won’t let you get away with it! Get on your knees and apologize to me and Crystal right now! And sign the Sterling project over to her!” “Or the wedding is off, and you can be an unemployed single mother!” I looked at him, my expression cold, and dialed the wedding planner. “Yes, that’s right. The wedding is canceled.” I hung up and faced Leo’s apoplectic glare. “For the past ten years, I was blind,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I mistook a piece of trash like you for a treasure.” “But my eyes are open now. I’m happy to give you up and cancel the wedding. But there is no way in hell I’m handing over my clients and the Sterling contract I fought for tooth and nail.” I added softly, “You should probably start thinking about how you’re going to explain losing the Sterling deal to your investors. Oh, and don’t forget my severance pay.” I turned to leave, but Leo lunged forward, grabbing my arm. “I was wrong, Elara! You know how stressed I’ve been! And with you pregnant, I was afraid to touch you, I didn’t want to hurt the baby… I just… I couldn’t help myself…” His voice was a desperate, pleading whine. “We were drunk, it was an accident! She promised it wouldn’t affect us! We agreed it was just until you gave birth, then I’d be completely devoted to you and our child!” I pulled my lips into a sneer. “And you think I’d believe that?” I glanced at my phone. The signing was about to start. I looked up at the man I had loved for a decade. “Can’t we just part ways peacefully, Leo? I’m only taking what’s mine. I’m not trying to ruin your company.” His face was ashen. “But I don’t want to lose you,” he mumbled. “I never imagined losing you.” I gave him one last, deep look. “When you were doing all of this, did you ever once stop to think how much it would hurt me? If you had, even for a second, you would have known I’d leave you. You know my personality.” His lips moved, but before he could speak, I started walking away. He scrambled after me. “I was wrong! Elara, please! Give me one more chance! For our child’s sake! Just one chance! If you don’t want me seeing Crystal, I’ll pay her off, I’ll send her away!” “And you can come back to work! After the baby is born, I’ll create a new position for you…” I shook him off, my patience gone. Suddenly, a car screeched around the corner, heading straight for me. I had no time to react. The impact sent me flying. Pain exploded through my body. I hit the pavement hard. A pool of blood began to spread out from beneath me. My body convulsed in agony. I reached a trembling hand toward Leo. “Help me,” I choked out. “Save the baby.” Leo’s face was sheet-white. He started to move toward me, but then Crystal stumbled out of the driver’s seat, crying, and threw herself into his arms. “Leo, what do I do?” she wailed. “I saw you talking, and she was going to leave with the project… I was just so anxious, I wanted to follow her… I think I hit the gas instead of the brake!” “I don’t want to go to jail! Leo, please, help me!” I writhed on the ground, the pain unbearable. “Leo…” I begged him, my voice a broken whisper. “That’s your child… You can’t just let our baby die.” A flicker of conflict crossed his face. Then, his expression hardened. He took Crystal’s hand and turned to the police officer who was just arriving on the scene. “Officer, I’m her husband. We had an argument. She got upset and ran into the street. It wasn’t this young lady’s fault.” He then knelt beside me, his voice low and urgent. “The baby’s gone, Elara. We can’t ruin an innocent girl’s life over this.” “Think of this as compensation for forcing Crystal to leave. And since you can’t make it to the signing now, let me and Crystal handle it for you. We’ll sign the contract.” “After this, I promise, I’ll come home. I’ll be good to you.” “Leo!” I screamed, my eyes burning with hatred. “You bastard! You will regret this!” A paramedic tried to pull him away, urging him to sign the consent forms for my emergency treatment. But he was already helping Crystal up, turning his back on me. “Sorry, we have an important meeting. Just let her lie in the ER for a bit. I’ll be back to sign the papers later.” And with that, they got in another car and drove away. The pain finally consumed me, and I passed out. Crystal, dressed in a brand-new designer gown, walked into the Sterling Group’s conference room on Leo’s arm, her head held high. One of the Sterling executives looked around, confused. “Where’s Ms. Elara? I thought she was the project lead on this.” Leo answered calmly, “Elara was terminated for gross misconduct. Crystal will be taking over the project.” The executive was stunned. “What? You fired her? Who’s our point of contact then?” “Crystal, of course,” Leo said, looking at her with a doting smile. “We owe this success to Crystal. Her new policies streamlined our operations and optimized our staff, which is what allowed us to land this deal. With such a talented new project lead, I’m confident we’ll deliver even better results for Sterling.” Crystal puffed out her chest, her face flushed with victory. “That’s right. I won’t let Leo down. I’ll achieve even greater things than Elara ever did.” Across the table, the head of the Sterling delegation stood up, his face an icy mask. “I’m sorry, but we signed on for this project because of Ms. Elara, and Ms. Elara alone. If she is no longer with your company, then I see no reason to continue this partnership. The deal is off.”

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The stage buckled with a groan of tortured metal, and from the wings, my first instinct was to find Claire. But she was already moving, a blur of motion rushing not toward the chaos, but toward him. I was pinned beneath a fallen lighting rig, the weight crushing the air from my lungs, but my eyes were fixed on her. On Claire, my impossibly composed wife, losing all composure as she administered CPR to Leo. His voice, a fragile whisper, reached across the space between them. “Claire… do you still love me?” She didn’t answer, but her eyes welled up, a storm gathering in their cool gray depths. Her hands, the steady, unerring hands of a surgeon, were trembling. I closed my eyes, letting a single, hot tear trace a path through the dust on my cheek. Just this morning, I had asked her if she could come to my performance. She’d told me she had a surgery she couldn’t get out of. Claire, I thought, the sound of my own heart thundering in my ears. We’re done. 1 They wheeled me out of the operating room, and the surgeon’s eyes went straight to my legs. “Are you a pianist or a dancer?” he asked. “Pianist,” I managed. The tension in his shoulders eased. “Good. Your hands are fine. But the leg… it’s going to be a long road back.” I looked down at my hands, thankfully unscathed, then tried to move my legs. My right one was a dead weight, a stranger attached to my body. Later, as a nurse was changing my IV drip, I overheard her talking to a colleague. “That dancer in 30B, Leo Vance? I guess he and Dr. Allen are a thing.” “You didn’t see it? The way she carried him in? She’s ice-cold to every guy in this hospital, but yesterday, she looked like her world was ending. When those reporters got in her way, she screamed at them to move. I’ve never heard her raise her voice.” Claire. My Claire was a creature of quiet control. I’d rarely seen her truly laugh, and I’d certainly never seen her lose her temper. The nurse attending to me was gentle, her touch kind. She placed a warm compress on my arm where the needle went in. “The meds are cold, and it can ache if the drip is too fast,” she explained with a small smile. “This helps. Just press the call button if you see any swelling.” I nodded, mustering a weak smile in return. As she was leaving, she added with a sigh, “This is the first time Dr. Allen has ever taken a leave of absence. All to stay here and watch over him.” The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the silence. I picked up my phone and dialed Claire’s number. It rang and rang before she finally picked up. Before I could speak, her voice came through, cool and distant. “Ethan, I won’t be home for dinner.” A pause. “I have to scrub in for another surgery.” It was the first time she had ever called to update me on her schedule. And it was a lie. For the three years of our marriage, I was the one who chased, who sent a barrage of texts, who chattered endlessly in her presence, desperate for a crack in her perfect facade. Now I knew why the facade was there. The nurse had said she was on leave. Claire, who treated the hospital as her temple, who volunteered for every holiday shift, trading Christmas for New Year’s so her colleagues could be with their families. We never even had a wedding, let alone a honeymoon. The internet was already on fire with pictures of Claire and Leo. When I saw his face clearly on a news site, it all clicked into place with a horrifying certainty. I finally understood why she had run to him without a second thought. I was in the hospital for two weeks, and for those two weeks, Claire called me every day. The calls were punctual, her voice a flat monotone. “Working late again. Don’t wait up.” And every day, I gave the same reply. “Okay. Got it.” She had taken a month off, the nurses whispered. For two weeks, she hadn’t left Leo’s side. My leg was still useless, confining me to the bed. A physical therapist would come to help me with basic movements, but otherwise, I was a captive audience to the hospital gossip. I found myself listening with a strange, detached interest. If the woman in the story wasn’t the one on my marriage certificate, I’d probably find it all fascinating—a made-for-TV movie unfolding in the room next door. I could order a milkshake and popcorn and treat it like entertainment. But in this tragic reunion of star-crossed lovers, Claire was my wife. And I was the villain, the inconvenient husband keeping them apart. It’s hard to be happy about that. 2 Leo posted a selfie on Instagram from his hospital bed. He was in a patient gown, looking artfully pale. Casually, just in the frame, was the back of a woman. A tall, slender silhouette. A hand with long, elegant fingers resting on the edge of his bed. On the wrist, a Cartier watch with a worn leather strap. The caption read: Don’t worry. She’s taking good care of me. The comments exploded, a frenzy of fans and gossip hounds smelling blood in the water. Leo, is that your girlfriend?! OMG that hand! I’m in love. She should be holding my hand. Leo replied to that one almost immediately, staking his claim for the world to see: Already am. He posted a second picture, still in the hospital gown, clearly taken in the same moment. His hand was intertwined with hers, fingers laced together. It looked so easy for them. I remembered trying to hold Claire’s hand when we were in college. It felt like a clandestine meeting between spies. She never allowed any public displays of affection. My own roommate, Mark, didn’t even know we were dating until graduation. When I told him Claire and I were getting married, he stared at me, his face a mask of disbelief. “Dude, I think your crush finally broke your brain.” If it weren’t for the marriage certificate, Mark would have assumed I was just another one of the countless guys who fantasized about the unattainable Claire Allen. Mark came to visit me in the hospital. He tiptoed around the subject before finally asking, “So… are you and Claire… done?” I took a moment before answering, my voice more level than I felt. “Almost.” He didn’t push. As he was leaving, he clapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, my couch is always open to you, man. You know that.” I gave him a genuine smile. That night, just as I was drifting off, Claire called again. Her voice was the same as always, a calm, unreadable current. “It’s going to be a busy couple of weeks at the hospital. I probably won’t be home at all.” “Got it,” I replied, my voice a hollow echo of hers. She had no idea that I could see her, a lone figure standing in the brightly lit hallway, just on the other side of the frosted glass of my door. After that call, she didn’t call again. I guess she figured a single, sweeping excuse was more efficient than daily lies. Sometimes, Mark would come and wheel me down to the hospital garden for some fresh air. One afternoon, I saw her. She didn’t see me. Her tall, willowy frame was bent over a wheelchair. In it sat a man in a patient gown, his skin pale, his features fine and gentle. Leo. He was whining about wanting ice cream. Claire crouched in front of him, her voice low. “It’s too cold, Leo. You can’t.” He grabbed her hand, wheedling like a child, and she relented. She came back with a single cone. When a dab of vanilla stuck to the corner of his mouth, she reached out instinctively to wipe it away, but then stopped herself, shoving her hand back into her coat pocket. I saw it then—the love in her eyes, disciplined and restrained, but undeniably there. Leo just smiled, a bright, triumphant flash of white. “Claire, can you get that for me?” His smile seemed to travel across the crowded garden and land directly on me. Claire’s back was still to me, a wall I could never scale. In that moment, I understood. There wasn’t just distance between us. There were entire continents, oceans I could never hope to cross. Claire would have bought me ice cream in the middle of winter. She wouldn’t have cared if I caught a cold. But she never would have crouched down to wipe my face. She would have said, “Ethan, use a napkin. It’s not sanitary.” 3 My surgeon reviewed my chart and gave me the rundown. “You can be discharged next week.” I nodded. Mark was scheduled for a business trip next week. I’d have to hire someone. “And make sure you get out in the wheelchair,” the doctor added on his way out. “Keep moving.” I managed a clumsy lap around the garden by myself. When I got back to my room for lunch, I saw a new hashtag trending on Twitter. It was a photo collage. Claire’s back, Leo’s face. From sixteen to twenty-six. In the first, she’s hugging him, a tall, protective figure. In the last, a candid shot from the hospital, she’s leaning over him. And in the blurred background, almost an afterthought, was me, a solitary figure struggling with a wheelchair. #TheDancerAndTheDoctor #ChildhoodSweetheartsReunited My heart seized. Then I saw the caption that went with it, and the floor dropped out from under me. The best kind of second-chance romance is between step-siblings. So what if they broke up? They still have to see each other at Thanksgiving dinner every year. The words unlocked everything. A fog of confusion I had been living in for three years suddenly evaporated. The worn photograph Claire kept in her wallet—it wasn’t her brother. It was her stepbrother. The one her father brought into the family when he remarried. I knew she had one, but in three years, I’d never met him. Every time I suggested it, she shut me down. It all made sense now. She must have known I had a crush on her back in college. One night, I saw her drinking alone at a bar off-campus. I followed her, my heart pounding, wanting to make sure she was okay. I finally worked up the courage to approach, but she turned around just as I was about to lose my nerve. I spun around, my back to her, pretending to be looking at something else. Then I heard her voice, that cool, clear sound. “Ethan.” My heart stopped. “Weren’t you going to offer me that water?” she asked, a small smile playing on her lips. After that, we started talking. She knew I was gone for her. She was the one who asked me out. The one who suggested we get married. The whole thing, from first date to marriage license, took less than six months. It was all so impossibly easy. What I had mistaken for a fairy tale, for the sweet reward of a long-held crush, was actually a cage. A cage Claire had built for me, and for herself. She married me because she was in love with Leo. Her own twisted sense of morality told her she couldn’t be with him. Their parents had forced them apart, sent him abroad to study dance while she stayed here for med school. She needed a distraction. A shield. Someone who could make her forget, and convince her parents she had moved on. And I was the volunteer who walked right into the trap. I pieced it all together from his social media history and the whispers I’d overheard. Now, it was the week before Christmas. I searched online for a home health aide, but no one was available. Most agencies were closed for the holidays, and the few freelancers I found considered a hospital job bad luck at the end of the year. I tripled my offer, but got no replies. It looked like I’d have to stay here until Mark got back. The hospital was overflowing, and they needed my bed. A new patient had already been assigned to the room next door—an elderly woman who moved with more agility than I did. “All alone, handsome?” she asked with a wink. I just nodded. My doctor and the nurses kept stopping by, gently reminding me about my discharge. I felt a flush of embarrassment, a deep sense of apology. “My friend is coming. Soon. I’ll be out of your hair.” The young nurse, the kind one, saw the panic in my eyes. She was about my age. “Hey,” she said softly, “it’s okay. I’ll ask Dr. Miller to give you one more day. Just one.” She saw my helpless expression and gave me a conspiratorial wink, mouthing the words: Don’t worry. 4 The next day, Mark’s flight was delayed by a snowstorm. And the new patient for my room arrived. I heard a familiar, sharp voice from the doorway. “What is he still doing here? Does he think this is a hotel?” Mortified, I started frantically packing my things, piling bags onto my lap as I sat in the wheelchair. The sweet old lady from next door saw me struggling and came over to help. When we pushed the door open, I saw her. A thundercloud of a face. High cheekbones, a frown etched between her brows. She was radiating impatience. She looked right through me. “Do you have any idea how badly this bed is needed? You’ve been delaying for a week. This isn’t your home.” My eyes met hers, and for a second, I just stared. It was Claire. Her right hand was gripping the handle of a suitcase. She was in street clothes. Standing beside her, his arm linked through hers, was Leo. I was wearing a surgical mask. My face burned with shame. I dropped my gaze to the floor. “I’m going,” I mumbled. I wheeled myself out into the hallway, my belongings scattered around me like debris. Just then, the kind young nurse came around the corner. “Ethan! Let me help you with that. My shift just ended.” At the sound of my name, Claire’s head snapped up. She grabbed the back of my wheelchair, her grip like steel, and strode around to face me. Our eyes locked. Recognition dawned on her face, a slow wave of shock and disbelief. I offered a tight, painful smile. The nurse, oblivious, kept chattering. “Ethan, where’s your wife? I saw on your chart you were married.” My gaze lifted, meeting Claire’s. After three years of marriage, her own colleagues didn’t even know she had a husband. I smiled at the nurse, a brighter, falser smile this time. “That was a mistake on the form. I’m not married.” Claire started to move toward me, but Leo’s hand tightened on her arm, holding her back. I pushed myself toward the elevators. As the doors began to close, I saw a flicker of genuine panic in her eyes. It was the first real emotion I’d seen from her in a month. Just as the doors were about to seal shut, she lunged forward, shouting my name.

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One wrong move and I was sucked into a dark romance novel. The System said I could go home once the Heartbreak Meter was full. I nodded thoughtfully. Just as my wife, Lily, was about to ask for our heirloom watch for her childhood sweetheart, I cut her off. “Sophia visited today,” I said casually. “She accidentally broke the wishing jar in our bedroom.” I waved dismissively. “It was an accident, so don’t make a fuss. She’s like a little sister to me. I even gave her that limited-edition fountain pen set from my study to cheer her up.” The jar was Lily’s 20th-birthday gift to me, filled with 999 hand-folded stars. The pen set was our custom wedding anniversary gift. Lily’s face went pale with shock. The System screamed in my head, until it saw the Heartbreak Meter tick up by one notch. The System: ? I smirked. “You never said I had to be the one getting hurt. Breaking the villainess works just as well, doesn’t it?” 1 Lily’s lips parted, her voice choked with emotion. “Why was Sophia at our house? Why was she in our bedroom?” I put on an air of complete indifference. “She just flew back into the country, so I picked her up from the airport. I invited her over, gave her a little tour. We were neighbors as kids. It’s normal, isn’t it?” “But she broke the gift I gave you!” she shot back, her voice a low growl of suppressed fury. I rubbed my ear, annoyed. “I know. Why are you shouting?” “It was just a glass jar. It broke. So what?” “If it bothers you that much, I’ll buy you a new one.” Lily’s hands clenched into tight fists. “Do you think it’s about the jar? It was filled with 999 lucky stars I folded myself! Every single one had a love note to you written on it. Does that mean nothing to you?” She took a step closer, her voice rising. “And you gave her our anniversary gift? What is going on between you two?” “Ethan, do you even see me anymore?!” Oh, she was getting mad now. Excellent. I adopted a disapproving tone. “Alright, that’s enough. Don’t be so petty. I told you, we’re just friends from way back.” “I only see her as a sister. If something was going to happen between us, it would have happened ages ago. Why else would I have married you?” The words rolled off my tongue, and a wave of pure satisfaction washed over me. I’d always wanted to use one of these classic lines from the genre. It felt damn good. After scolding her, I immediately switched gears, plastering a gentle, caring expression on my face. “Honey, you’re overthinking this. You know you’re the only one for me.” “Now stop making a scene. Be good. I’m a little tired, I’m heading to bed.” Ignoring the thunderous look on Lily’s face, I turned to leave. Suddenly, her hand shot out and gripped my wrist. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes searching my face for… something. A crack in the facade, maybe. I held my expression perfectly still, a calm sea in her storm, and let her look. After a long moment, she let out a slow breath, banking the fires of her anger. “Fine. Just be more careful in the future.” She changed the subject. “Caleb has that big corporate gala tomorrow night. Could he borrow that vintage watch your father left you? It would really help him make an impression.” Here it comes. The villainess finally makes her move. 2 “The watch? Oh, no! Why didn’t you say so earlier?” I exclaimed, my voice laced with panic. “What do you mean?” “Sophia’s having her first solo art exhibition in the city tomorrow night. Her father is attending and they’re doing a joint interview. He didn’t have any decent accessories, so I already lent it to him.” Lily stared, stunned. “You lent it out?” “Yeah.” “That was your father’s! You just gave a family heirloom to a stranger like that?!” See? She knew it was my father’s legacy, yet she was perfectly fine with me handing it over to her boy-toy. The twisted logic of these characters was something else. “What are you talking about? Mr. Hayes is hardly a stranger. He was my dad’s best friend. What’s wrong with me lending it to him?” “Besides,” I added, twisting the knife, “he’s Sophia’s father. When she asked, how could I possibly say no?” Lily’s face was a mask of cold fury. She looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. “Sophia again. You did this… for her.” She opened her mouth to say more, but her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and her lips tightened. She looked up, gave me one last, deep look, then turned and walked out onto the balcony. Must be Caleb, checking to see if his little mission was a success. Too bad for him. I shrugged and headed into the bedroom. 3 When I first arrived in this world, I was so desperate I wanted to strangle the System. This was the most cliché, angst-filled novel imaginable. The hero and heroine fall in love, share six years of dating and four years of marriage, only for their perfect world to be shattered by the arrival of her childhood sweetheart. For him, the heroine, Lily, lowers her standards again and again, letting him frame the hero for things he didn’t do, pushing the hero into a deep depression until he finally jumps off a building. Only after he’s dead does she feel a shred of remorse. The heroine of this story was, to put it bluntly, a total mess. You could say she loved the hero, but she was constantly torn, always siding with her childhood flame and making the hero suffer endlessly because she knew he was devoted to her. And you could say she didn’t love the hero, but after he died, she completely lost it, tormenting her childhood sweetheart until he was a shell of a man, wishing he could join the hero in death. Her whole deal was not cherishing what she had until it was gone, then wallowing in regret. And for some reason, readers ate it up. But the one saving grace was that in this kind of story, the villainess truly does love the hero—me, Ethan. Which meant that when I started treating her exactly how she was supposed to treat me, it would actually break her. So I thought, why should I be the one suffering to rack up heartbreak points? I wasn’t about to put myself through that kind of hell. My new motto: Protect myself at all costs and drive everyone else insane. I’d just beat her to the punch. System: {Damn.} Me: {Never mind that. What’s the Heartbreak Meter at?} {10%. When you defended Sophia just now, she genuinely felt a pang of pain.} I smiled, a wide, brilliant smile. {Oh, we’re just getting started. There’s a whole lot more pain where that came from.} 4 A villainess is a villainess because she’s completely oblivious to how inappropriate her actions are. Without my vintage watch to show off, Lily gave Caleb a different set of accessories for the gala: an imperial emerald brooch she’d won at a high-end auction, complete with matching cufflinks and a tie clip. Caleb, a spoiled heir who coasted on his family’s connections, became the center of attention with that set. He was the talk of the town overnight. After the gala, Lily personally drove him home. Unfortunately for them, they were snapped by the paparazzi. Suddenly, rumors of a love affair between the spoiled heir and the beautiful CEO were everywhere. Caleb’s fame shot up another notch. In the original story, Lily’s explanation was lazy, a simple dismissal of the rumors as a “misunderstanding.” The hero was so angry he couldn’t sleep all night. I figured she was planning to give me the same tired excuse. But she couldn’t find me. Because while she was dropping Caleb off, I was at Sophia’s art exhibition. Sophia was a renowned painter, a graduate of a prestigious art school abroad with a string of successful exhibitions to her name. In the art world, her reputation dwarfed that of a trust-fund brat like Caleb. After her exhibition, I took her to a romantic dinner, and a picture of us was “accidentally” taken by a bystander. And because of the angle, the way I was leaning in to talk to her… it looked exactly like we were kissing. The photo went viral the moment it hit the internet. The buzz completely overshadowed the gossip about Lily and Caleb. And just like them, neither Sophia nor I bothered to issue any clarification. The whole situation was wonderfully chaotic. When I got home, slightly buzzed, Lily was sitting on the sofa in the dark. An ashtray on the coffee table overflowed with cigarette butts. I frowned, waving a hand through the acrid, stale smoke. “It’s late. What are you still doing up?” Thud. She tossed her phone onto the table. The screen was lit up with the picture of me and Sophia, caught in our “kiss.” “Care to explain this?” I calmly set my keys down. “We were having dinner. It’s called socializing.” “Socializing involves kissing now?” Lily shot up from the sofa. “Ethan, do you think I’m an idiot?” I looked up. Her lips were trembling, her breathing ragged. The corners of her eyes were red, as if she was on the verge of tears or rage. “It was just the angle of the photo,” I said, my tone puzzled. “We were just talking. The media is blowing this way out of proportion. Why are you taking it so seriously?” “Honestly, can’t you stop being so sensitive?” Her eyes widened. “Sensitive? My husband is trending online for kissing another woman, and you call me sensitive?!” “Well, yeah,” I said smoothly. “It’s just like those rumors about you and Caleb, isn’t it? Wild speculation.” The mention of her childhood friend stopped her cold. Her face stiffened. I felt a thrill of victory. Pissing off a narcissist was just so satisfying. I softened my voice. “You know Sophia just got back. We’ve known each other forever. It’s only natural I’d go support her exhibition.” “Getting photographed was an accident. It’s not what it looks like. Don’t get the wrong idea.” Lily’s lips were pressed into a thin, white line. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she stared at me, speechless. I walked over to her and, suppressing my disgust, wrapped my arms around her. “Alright, stop it. No more fighting.” “Your birthday is in a couple of days. I’ve already planned the whole party.” “And I got you a special gift. I know you’ll love it.” You had to keep them on the hook, after all. Otherwise, the real fun couldn’t begin. Lily stared at me for a long moment, then asked, her voice tight, “You and Sophia… there’s really nothing going on?” I raised my hand in a solemn oath. “Absolutely nothing.” After a heavy silence, she sighed, the fight draining out of her. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” She rose unsteadily and walked toward the bedroom, her silhouette lonely in the dim light. I pulled up the System panel. Heartbreak Meter: 20%. Nice. 5 I planned Lily’s birthday party exactly as it was laid out in the novel. Grand, elegant, no expense spared. On the day of the party, I stood at the entrance in a custom-tailored suit, greeting guests. I glanced back to make sure everything was in place. The six-tier cake and the champagne tower were positioned exactly where they needed to be. The distance between them was perfect. Flawless. It wasn’t long before I heard a sickeningly cheerful voice. “Lily! What do you think of my suit? It matches your dress perfectly, don’t you think?” Caleb, dressed in a sharp navy blue suit, strode up to Lily and casually draped an arm around her waist, drawing stares from everyone around them. “You’re a grown man now, stop being so clingy,” Lily said with a soft smile, gently tapping his arm but letting him stay pressed against her side. He looked less like a guest and more like the host of the party. “Oh, oops, I almost forgot to say hi to Ethan. Hey, Ethan!” he said with a fake smile. “Thanks for throwing such an amazing party for Lily. You must be exhausted. You’ve really outdone yourself.” I didn’t get angry. I just crossed my arms, a smirk playing on my lips as I looked him up and down. “Why are you looking at me like that, Ethan? Did I say something wrong?” Caleb asked, his lip trembling in a pathetic attempt at innocence. Just as Lily was about to defend him, I cut in. “Of course not. I was just admiring your suit. It looks great on you.” A real shame you’re about to ruin it in a pile of cake. Suddenly, a clear, melodic voice called out from behind me. “Ethan.” I turned to see Sophia. Lily’s face froze. “You invited her?” “I did. Is that a problem?” I flashed a brilliant smile and eagerly went to greet her. Right in front of Lily and Caleb, I opened my arms and gave Sophia a huge hug. And I didn’t stop there. I leaned in and affectionately pressed a kiss to her cheek. Instantly, a hand clamped down on my wrist. A powerful force yanked me back several steps. Lily’s relaxed composure was gone, replaced by a mask of sheer disbelief, her brow knitted in a tight, furious knot. “Ethan, what the hell are you doing?!” 6 “What am I doing?” I asked, feigning confusion. “You’re all over another woman right in front of me, and you still claim there’s nothing going on between you? You…” “That’s enough, Lily,” I cut her off, my voice sharp. “Can you stop being so crude? This is just a normal greeting, a custom from her time abroad. Don’t twist it into something ugly.” “And another thing—this is your birthday party. Are you really trying to make a scene and embarrass yourself in front of all these people?” My harsh words stunned her into silence. Her lips trembled, and her voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone. “I’m being crude? Show me one wife who would be okay with her husband getting all touchy-feely with another woman! Do my feelings mean nothing to you?” “What’s the big deal?” I scoffed, my eyes flicking pointedly to where Caleb was still standing far too close to her. “If we’re going down that road, what about you and him? You two have been attached at the hip all night. Did I say a word?” That shut her up. After a long pause, she awkwardly pushed Caleb away. “That’s different. Caleb sees me as a big sister.” “And I see Sophia as a little sister. So what’s the difference?” She was speechless. Seeing his chance, Caleb sidled back up, taking Lily’s arm again and speaking in a high, mocking tone. “Don’t be angry, Lily. Ethan was just saying hello. I’m sure a respectable man like him wouldn’t have an affair, right?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm, but I played along. “See? Even Caleb is more reasonable than you are. I really don’t know what you’re so worked up about.” Caleb, who clearly hadn’t expected me to agree with him, was momentarily stunned. Lily was even more furious. She shot me a glare, shook off Caleb’s hand, and stormed off without another word. Pathetic. Once Lily was gone, Caleb dropped the act. He leaned in close, his voice a low whisper only I could hear. “I thought you had some special power to keep Lily interested. Turns out you’re nothing special at all.” “Tell me,” he sneered, “who do you think she cares about more? You, or me?” I laughed lightly. “Is that even a question? She’s crazy about me. Look, I just said hi to someone and she’s already green with envy. Can’t be helped.” My words twisted Caleb’s smile into a grimace. He gritted his teeth. “Is that so? We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” With that, he straightened his tie and hurried after Lily. Sophia stepped up beside me. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” I picked up a champagne flute and swirled the golden liquid. “The show is about to begin.” 7 Every trashy romance novel needs a scene where the rival frames the hero. And tonight’s party was the main event, the climax of the hero’s suffering in the original story. The plot was old and tired: a fake push, a feigned injury, a plea for sympathy, the heroine’s rage, and a forced apology. I knew the script by heart. And I was ready. Lily was chatting with some friends across the room when Caleb sauntered over to me. “Ethan, Lily hasn’t said a word to you all night. Looks like she’s really mad,” he taunted. “You think she’s starting to hate you?” I raised an eyebrow, silently daring him to continue. “And what if she found out you were bullying me? Would she hate you even more?” he whispered. “Should we find out?” Before I could answer, Caleb’s expression changed dramatically. He let out a cry of alarm and pretended to be pushed, stumbling backward toward the massive birthday cake. I just watched. I didn’t try to catch him. I didn’t move. Just as he was about to make contact with the cake, Sophia appeared at his side. She slammed her body into his, knocking him upright. The force sent him stumbling away from the cake, but the momentum carried her in the opposite direction—straight toward the champagne tower. With a tremendous crash, the tower of glasses collapsed, shattering into a thousand pieces on the floor. Sophia fell among the broken glass, a long, deep gash opening up on the back of her hand. “Sophia!” I cried out, my face a mask of worry. I rushed toward her, deliberately shoving past Lily who was on her way to check on Caleb. Seeing the blood pouring from Sophia’s hand, my fists clenched, and I turned on Lily, my voice trembling with rage. “When did you become so vindictive? I told you there was nothing between me and Sophia, but you still had to pull a cheap stunt like this?” My accusation left both Lily and Caleb completely stunned. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, I did this?” Lily stammered. “Don’t play dumb! You put him up to it, didn’t you? Caleb has no reason to hurt Sophia, so why would he push her? It’s because you can’t stand her, so you had him do your dirty work!” I pressed, my voice rising with righteous fury. The long-silent System suddenly piped up: {…You’re a special kind of genius. You’ve mastered the art of flipping the script.} I hummed a cheerful little tune in my head. {You know it.} On the floor, Sophia grabbed my arm with her blood-soaked hand. “Ethan, don’t blame them. I’m fine. It was my own fault for not being careful.” “How can you be fine?” I snapped, my face etched with panic. “Your hands are your livelihood! You’re a painter! How are you going to hold an exhibition with an injury like this?” Caleb, completely blindsided by this turn of events, could only stammer that he hadn’t pushed her. I whirled on him. “Shut up!” Then I turned my glare back to Lily, my voice cold and hard. “Apologize to Sophia.” System: {Damn. Heartbreak Meter is skyrocketing.} Lily’s face was pale, her expression one of utter disbelief. “I didn’t do anything. You want me to apologize to her?” “Ethan, this is my birthday party. You want me to apologize to your childhood friend… at my own party?” My face was a mask of impatience. “When you do something wrong, you apologize. Is that really so hard for you to understand?”

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I was on the hunt for a stud for my best friend’s prized pedigree cat when I accidentally stumbled onto a male model’s profile. Me: [Hey, what are your rates?] Model: [Ten grand a session. Top-tier looks.] I gritted my teeth and agreed. Me: [Deal. Can I film the session?] Model: [You want to film it?] Well, yeah. What if it’s not a successful pairing? The next day, I showed up with my cat, ready for the appointment. The door opened to reveal a masked, doting pet dad who took my breath away. “Filming is fine,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “But I don’t show my face.” 1 My best friend, Zoe, had tasked me with finding a suitable mate for her precious firstborn. As the cat’s official godmother, I took the job very seriously. Zoe told me all the prep work—vaccinations and deworming—had to be done a month in advance. After a trip to the vet, I brought Poppy home and started my search for a handsome tomcat while we waited for her to go into heat. Late one night, drowsy and bleary-eyed, I accidentally clicked on someone’s profile. It was filled with pictures of cats. One, in particular, a long-haired Golden Shaded British Longhair, made my eyes pop wide open. Oh. My. God. Those looks were on a whole other level. Suddenly wide awake, I shot him a private message. [Hey, what are your rates?] He must have been a night owl too because the reply was almost instant. [10k.] I scratched my head, baffled. Stud fees were this expensive nowadays? He must have sensed my hesitation. A new message popped up: [He’s gorgeous.] I gently shook the sleeping Poppy awake and pointed to the picture on my phone. “What do you think of this one, P?” Poppy just blinked at me before plopping her fluffy butt directly onto my screen. Alright, then! My god-cat wholeheartedly approved of this handsome gentleman! I took a deep breath and typed back: [Deal. Can I film the session?] [You want to film it?] Duh. What if it didn’t take? Me: [It’s just for proof. To make sure everything goes smoothly for both parties.] The “user is typing…” indicator lingered on my screen for an eternity. I frowned. What was there to think about? It was a perfectly reasonable precaution for my pet’s safety. Was that so hard to understand? A few minutes later, a new message arrived: […Fine. But the client will need to sign a strict non-disclosure agreement. The footage cannot be shared.] I raised an eyebrow. The stud industry was this professional now? Me: [No problem! And… he’s healthy, right? Physically?] Model: [Five gym sessions a week, very low body fat, powerful core strength. Don’t worry.] What? He takes his cat to the gym? Was the pet world this competitive? Then again, cats and humans were both mammals. A strong core probably helped with… performance, right? The thought made a weird kind of sense, and I found myself even more impressed with this tomcat. Not only was he stunning, but he was in peak physical condition. I grinned and typed: [Oh, okay, that’s great. What about his… temperament? Is he aggressive?] Model: [Depends on the client. With the right one, he’s very gentle and attentive. Puts a premium on the experience.] Oh my god. This was the holy grail of stud cats. He even cared about the experience? Poppy was in for a treat! Me: [Can we schedule for 10 days from now?] [Why the wait?] The ideal time for mating is between the third and fifth day of a female cat’s heat cycle, and Poppy’s was still about a week away. Ten days was the soonest we could do. I figured he probably wasn’t familiar with the specifics of female cat biology. So I kindly explained: [We have to wait for her fertile window.] He went silent again. What was it now? Was he shy? After a long pause, he slowly typed: [I just looked it up. You mean her ovulation period, right?] Umm… I guess you could call it that. I didn’t argue. [Yeah, basically. It’s just the best time to… you know.] […Right. All of the client’s needs will be met.] 2 I exchanged contact info with the stud’s owner, who went by the username “XC,” and sent over a deposit. Then I sent the picture of the Golden Shaded dreamboat to Zoe. My best friend, currently honeymooning on the other side of the world, showered me with praise. “That’s my girl! You’re the best godmother ever!” Zoe suggested I check out the stud’s living conditions beforehand. It sounded like a smart idea, so I messaged XC. [Yoo-hoo? What’s the… venue… like?] XC: [? The venue…] Yeah, the venue. The female cat is supposed to be brought to the male’s territory. It increases the chance of success and reduces stress. The stud’s owner is responsible for providing a safe and secure environment, like a quiet room with properly screened windows. Unfazed, I pressed on: [Is the environment safe?] This time, the silence was even longer. Finally, a single sentence appeared: [Yeah. You won’t get caught.] Caught? Oh, he must mean his cat is gentle and won’t scratch. What a little gentleman. I chuckled to myself, remembering the most important question. I sent a winking emoji. [So, uh, what’s the… hardware like?] XC: [Excellent.] Oh? Excellent how? I needed details. But he clearly didn’t get the hint. I waited, but no pictures or further descriptions came through. I had to be more direct: [Can you be more specific? Maybe a… picture? I need to be sure my baby’s physical and mental well-being are taken care of!] What if this cat was all fluff and no stuff? I couldn’t let Poppy suffer for nothing. After another long pause, XC replied: [The dimensions are… impressive. Client feedback has always been… very positive about the experience.] My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Wow! He even had client testimonials! This was a whole new level of professional. I struggled to maintain my composure. [Oh? And… stamina?] XC: […I have a lot of confidence in that department. Clients always leave satisfied.] My heart was racing. Oh. My. God. He was the perfect specimen! Gorgeous, gentle, well-endowed, and he could go the distance! Poppy, your godmother has found you a supermodel! Me: [That’s fantastic! So… is there anything I need to do to… assist?] XC: [You can watch from the side. If you need some direction.] Direction? How was I supposed to direct a cat? But I definitely had to be there to supervise. What if the stud got too rough? I had to be there to protect Poppy. Me: [Okay, I’ll definitely be there! By the way, will one session be enough? What if it doesn’t take the first time?] XC: [One is usually enough. If the client requires multiple sessions… there’s an extra charge.] So confident. One and done, huh? I guess that was better for Poppy, less stressful. Me: [I get it! You get what you pay for! So, it’s just the one visit?] XC: [Yes. I’ll provide my services until you’re completely satisfied.] The customer service was impeccable! I clutched my phone, giddy with excitement. This was the best ten thousand dollars I’d ever spent! I sent one last confirmation: [It’s a date, then! Ten days from now, I’ll bring her over. The rest… is up to him!] XC: [Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.] 3 A few days later, I was standing outside a high-end apartment building with Poppy in her carrier. Whoa. Does cat breeding pay this well? This place was fancy. My heart pounded as I rang the doorbell. I was excited to finally meet the handsome Golden Shaded, but also a little nervous. Ten grand was a lot of money. This had better work. The door swung open, and I was face-to-face with a masked, doting pet dad who stole the air from my lungs. He was tall, with a lean, muscular frame outlined by a fitted black tank top. A black face mask covered the lower half of his face, leaving only a pair of deep, intense eyes that seemed to be… sizing me up. “You can film,” he said, his voice a low, magnetic rumble. “But I don’t show my face.” Whoa. That voice. I snapped out of my daze and nodded quickly. “Right, right. Privacy. I get it.” Is this guy an influencer or something? I wondered. He stepped aside to let me in, his gaze falling on the cat carrier in my arms. He frowned slightly. “Oh, Poppy’s a little shy,” I explained quickly. “And she gets carsick. She’ll be fine in a bit. Is… uh… is he ready?” I craned my neck, trying to spot the cat. The man paused, as if processing my words. “Come in. We need to… go over the details.” I carried the carrier into the living room. The apartment was stylish and minimalist, but I didn’t see any scratching posts, cat trees, or toys. Strange. How could a cat owner’s place be this spotless? I set the carrier on the sofa and opened the door. “Come on out, Poppy…” Poppy huddled in the back, eyeing the new surroundings warily. I felt a little embarrassed. I turned to explain, only to see the man reaching for the hem of his shirt and slowly, deliberately, starting to pull it off. “W-wait, wait, wait!!!” I shrieked, nearly dropping my phone. “What… what are you doing?!” His hands froze mid-air, his visible eyes wide with confusion. “…Isn’t this what you wanted? Ten grand a session.” A cold, dawning horror began to creep up my spine. “What did I want?! I wanted a stud for my cat! A stud! Can’t you see what’s in this carrier?!” I thrust the carrier toward him, practically shoving it in his face. The man looked at the fluffy, slightly terrified cat inside. Then he looked at my face, which was now burning with a mixture of shock and mortification. The confusion in his deep-set eyes slowly morphed into a tidal wave of gut-wrenching, soul-crushing embarrassment. “…A cat?” “What else would it be?!” “…” The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by Poppy’s innocent, questioning “meow.” 4 My brain short-circuited for three solid seconds. Then, all our bizarre conversations came flooding back, scrolling through my mind like a cursed news ticker. “He’s gorgeous.” “Five gym sessions a week, powerful core strength.” “Puts a premium on the experience.” “The dimensions are… impressive. Client feedback has always been very positive.” “One is usually enough.” WHOOSH. A fiery blush rocketed from my neck to the roots of my hair. I was so hot you could have fried an egg on my forehead. So this is what social death felt like. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me and my cat whole. The man across from me was clearly having his own meltdown. He yanked his tank top back down with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, leaving an afterimage in the air. His eyes, the only part of his face I could see, darted around the room, desperate for a place to land. Finally, he spun around, giving me his broad, rigid back. “Look…” he began, his voice raspy, “I’m sorry. I… I misunderstood.” What could I possibly say to that? No problem, it’s my fault for being an idiot who can’t read a profile properly? I clutched the cat carrier like it was a live grenade. “So…” I struggled to find the right words. “You’re… not a breeder?” His shoulders slumped. “No.” “And the cats on your profile…” “Are my pets.” “So the ten-grand-a-session thing was for…” “…” His silence was all the answer I needed. My entire worldview had just been shattered. I had spent ten days meticulously researching, filled with giddy anticipation, and had agreed to spend an obscene amount of money… to hire a male escort? For my cat? I looked down at the innocent Poppy, who was now calmly licking her paws. Sweetie, I am so sorry. Godmommy booked you the wrong species. “Well, I should probably get going,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stay here another second. I just wanted to teleport off the planet. I spun around, ready to make a break for the door. “Wait!” He turned back around and called out to me. I froze, not daring to look at him. Please, just let me go. You can keep the deposit. It’s the price I pay for being blind. “Are… are you looking for a long-haired Golden Shaded for stud?” he asked, his voice hesitant. I nodded stiffly. “My cat… he’s the one in the pictures.” My head snapped up. He was pointing toward the balcony. I followed his gesture. There, on the top perch of a cat tree in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, sat a magnificent, fluffy, golden creature, yawning lazily in the afternoon sun. The light caught its long fur, making it shimmer like spun gold. The handsome face, the emerald green eyes… it was him. My dream cat. Holy crap. He was real. And a hundred times more stunning in person. The awkwardness of the last five minutes evaporated. My eyes lit up, and I rushed toward the window. “Oh my god! It’s him! What’s his name?” The man seemed taken aback by my complete one-eighty but answered nonetheless. “…Ten Grand.” “What?” “His name is Ten Grand.” “…” Well. That was certainly on the nose. 5 I pressed my face against the glass, staring at Ten Grand like a complete stalker. He seemed to sense my gaze, turned his head, gave me a cool, dismissive glance, and went back to watching the world go by. Wow. That aloof attitude. He was just like his owner. I opened the carrier, and Poppy cautiously poked her head out. When she saw Ten Grand, a soft purr rumbled in her chest. She was definitely interested. A spark of hope ignited within me. I was already here, right? Might as well see this through. And honestly, this cat was the most beautiful Golden Shaded I had ever seen. I turned back to the masked man, who was now leaning against a wall, watching me with a complicated expression. I cleared my throat, deciding to just go for it. “So… uh… handsome.” His body tensed. “I admit,” I said, trying my best to look sincere, “this has been a massive, astronomical misunderstanding. But, look, I really am here to find a mate for my cat, and your cat, Ten Grand, really is ridiculously handsome…” I gestured from Poppy to Ten Grand. “And I think they have a connection! What do you say we just… roll with it?” The man was silent. His mask hid his expression, but I could see the emotions warring in his eyes: embarrassment, then disbelief, and finally… a flicker of amusement? “Let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “You want to pay me ten thousand dollars… for my cat to mate with your cat?” “Yes!” I nodded enthusiastically. “Money is no object!” (It was very much an object, but for Zoe’s firstborn, I would make the sacrifice.) My earnestness seemed to amuse him. A low chuckle rumbled from behind his mask. It was a nice sound. “Ten Grand… has never been studded before.” “That’s fine! First time is even better! Means he’s clean!” I blurted out. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Why does everything I say sound so weird today? The amusement in his eyes deepened. “And I never planned on using him as a stud,” he added. “Just once! Please, just this one time!” I clasped my hands together, shamelessly begging. “Please? Look how cute Poppy is! Their kittens would be absolutely gorgeous! I’ll give you one! No, two!” I scooped Poppy out of her carrier and held her up for him to see. Poppy, bless her heart, chose that moment to let out a soft, sweet “meow.” The man looked at the cat in my arms, then at Ten Grand on the balcony. He seemed to be seriously considering it. Maybe it was my desperate puppy-dog eyes, or maybe it was Poppy’s charm. After a few tense moments, he finally sighed. “…Okay.” Yes! I almost jumped for joy!

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A text from the real estate agent lit up my phone in the dead of night: “Annie, can you give me your fiancé’s number? I missed my period this month, and I’m starting to get scared.” I glanced at the message, then at my fiancé, Tomer, sleeping like the dead beside me. “You managed to get pregnant but not his phone number? You’re pathetic,” I typed back, my thumb jabbing the screen. Then, with a surge of fury, I kicked him clean out of the bed. 1 I woke up in the middle of the night, my throat parched. As I reached for a glass of water, my phone buzzed with a notification. Who would be texting me this late? I wondered, picking it up. To my surprise, it was Amber, the real estate agent I’d been in contact with recently. “Annie, can you give me your fiancé’s number? I missed my period this month, and I’m starting to get scared.” For a moment, the words didn’t register. I rubbed my eyes, reading it again. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. My fiancé’s mistress was knocking on my digital door. I looked over at Tomer, who was snoring peacefully, oblivious. In my mind, I was already tearing him limb from limb. “You managed to get pregnant but not his phone number? You’re pathetic,” I typed, gritting my teeth as I sent it. Then, I swung my leg out and shoved him hard. He tumbled out of bed with a startled yelp. jolted from a deep sleep, Tomer scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with alarm. “What’s wrong? Was that an earthquake? Babe, we have to go!” I just stared at him, my expression glacial. “Babe? What is it?” Seeing my face, he realized the danger wasn’t seismic. It was me. He sighed, cautiously climbing back onto the bed. “What happened? Did you have a nightmare? What unforgivable crime did I commit in your dreams this time?” He tried to pull me into a hug, but I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me,” I said, my voice cold. “Stay right there. I have some questions for you.” Tomer, utterly confused, retreated to the corner of the bed, looking like a kicked puppy. It was a look I knew well, the one he used when he wanted comfort. The thought that this same man, this man who could look so pitifully innocent, would betray me with another woman… Honestly, before today, the possibility had never even crossed my mind. I took a deep breath, about to demand how he and Amber had gotten together, when my phone buzzed again. It was her. Amber: “Annie, I know it’s hard to accept that your fiancé cheated on you. I get why you’re trying to put me down.” “But you need to face reality. Cutting me down with words won’t help you. You can’t keep a man who doesn’t want to be kept. Besides, I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just think the father has a right to know about his child.” “Are you so afraid of him finding out because you know you can’t compete with me?” I’d lived for over two decades and had never encountered someone so utterly shameless. For a second, I was too stunned to speak. Instead, I tossed the phone at Tomer. “Your baby mama’s looking for you. You’d think after knocking someone up, you’d at least get their contact info. Now she’s using me as a messenger.” Tomer, who had assumed my rage was dream-induced, was completely blindsided by the phone hitting his lap and the words “baby mama” hitting his ears. He gave a weak laugh. “Annie, what are you talking about?” He picked up the phone and started reading. As the meaning of the texts sank in, his eyes went wide. “This is slander!” he yelled, jumping up. “It’s defamation! Who is this? I’m going to sue her.” “She missed her period? Maybe she has a hormone imbalance or some kind of illness! How does that automatically mean she’s pregnant?” “Wait, even if she is pregnant, what does that have to do with me? I don’t even know this person!” He looked up at me, his face a mask of wounded innocence. “Annie… do you have another boyfriend?” My first instinct was to scream. The nerve of this man, trying to pin his own mess on me! But then I thought about it. For the past two months, Tomer had been on a business trip with my dad. He’d only gotten back yesterday. He genuinely didn’t know Amber. So why would she claim to be pregnant with my fiancé’s child? Seeing my silence, Tomer’s act grew more dramatic. He looked ready to burst into tears. “You really do have another man on the side, don’t you? You cruel, heartless woman! I’m telling your parents! We’re about to get married, and you’re cheating on me!” He actually pulled out his phone and started scrolling for my mom’s number. I lunged, clamping my hand over his. “Don’t you dare!” “I have to! You have another man! I’m heartbroken! Your parents need to know about this!” He struggled against my grip but didn’t actually hit dial, just stared at me with wide, pleading eyes. I sighed, my anger giving way to confusion. “Something isn’t right here.” I took my phone back and explained the situation to Tomer. We were planning to buy a new house for our wedding, so I’d spent the last two months visiting sales galleries all over the city. Amber was the agent I’d dealt with the most. Our interactions had always been pleasant, though recently, whenever I’d tried to schedule a viewing, she’d made excuses or passed me off to another agent. When her text came in tonight, I hadn’t stopped to think. I’d just assumed she meant Tomer. With that in mind, I sent Amber another message: “Are you sure you have the right person? Do you know who I am? Do you know who my fiancé is?” Her reply was instantaneous. Amber: “Annie Davis. You can’t be hoping I made a mistake. Of course I know who your fiancé is.” “If you don’t believe me, I’ll send you a picture of us. Tomer himself told me I’m way more interesting than you.” A photo appeared on my screen. In it, Amber was pressed tightly against a handsome man. He was grinning from ear to ear, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. But the man in the photo wasn’t Tomer. It was someone we both knew, though. It was Tomer’s cousin, Aidan. That’s when I remembered. When I first started house hunting, Tomer was away on that business trip, so he’d asked his cousin to go with me. But I was picky. It was our first home, after all. After two viewings, Aidan lost his patience. In front of the sales staff, he’d griped about how high-maintenance I was, how I was making a simple task difficult and wasting everyone’s time. I’d bitten my tongue for Tomer’s sake, but I complained to him about it later. After that, Tomer never asked his cousin to accompany me again. I never imagined that in just those two visits, he and Amber had… connected. On my phone, two minutes after sending the photo, Amber unsent it. I didn’t even have time to take a screenshot. “See? I told you it wasn’t me,” Tomer said, a note of triumph in his voice now that he’d seen the picture. I shot him a withering glare. “Right, it’s not you. But it looks like she’s about to become your cousin’s new wife.” Tomer’s brow furrowed. “What new wife? My cousin is married!” 2 He was right. Aidan had gotten married a year ago. He had a wife. And he was sleeping with Amber. A wave of disgust washed over me. I was about to call Aidan and give him a piece of my mind, but Tomer stopped me. “What? Are you going to cover for your cousin?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. Tomer shook his head. “Of course not. But if you call him now, he’ll just deny everything. He’ll probably even flip it around and accuse you of trying to stir up trouble between us.” His assessment told me he knew his cousin’s character all too well. “So what do you suggest we do? Just pretend we don’t know?” I said, feeling deflated. A wicked grin spread across Tomer’s face. “No way. The other woman has come directly to you, the fiancée, to pick a fight. It’s only natural for you to go raise a little hell, isn’t it?” His words made my eyes light up. He was right. Amber had provoked me in the middle of the night. It was perfectly normal for me to be furious. I ignored the stream of taunting messages still coming from Amber, turned off my phone, and went back to sleep. The next morning, Tomer left early for work. I slept in, then took my time getting ready before driving to the sales gallery where Amber worked. She saw me the moment I walked in. A smug smile played on her lips as she watched me storm towards her. Another agent, seeing my thunderous expression, approached me. “Ma’am, is there something I can help you with?” I pointed a trembling finger at Amber, who was standing a short distance away, still smirking. “I’m about to get married,” I announced, my voice loud enough for the entire showroom to hear. “And your employee, Amber, seduced my fiancé! She’s pregnant with his child! Does your company just let its staff destroy people’s families like this?” My voice echoed through the large space. The handful of potential buyers browsing the models all turned to stare. They followed my finger to Amber. I had to hand it to her; anyone bold enough to provoke the fiancée directly had nerves of steel. Faced with the judgmental stares of everyone in the room, her expression didn’t waver. That smug smile never left her face. Amber walked towards me, her smile unwavering. “Honey, if your fiancé did something wrong, you should take it up with him. Why come after me?” “You don’t actually think it’s all the other woman’s fault when a man cheats, do you? You’re a woman yourself. Has it ever occurred to you that the real problem is your fiancé?” Her smile grew brighter as she closed the distance between us. Her shamelessness almost threw me off balance. But I’m no fool, and I wasn’t about to let her deflect the blame with a few well-chosen words. It was clear, however, that some of the onlookers were being swayed. A young woman nearby whispered, “She has a point. Every time a guy cheats, the wife comes and attacks the mistress while the jerk gets to hide. Why not deal with your own man instead of making trouble for another woman?” Hearing this, Amber’s colleagues seemed to gain a bit of confidence. One of them even approached me with a placating smile. “Miss, if your fiancé really did wrong you, perhaps you should talk to him? We’re all women here, why make things hard for each other? At the end of the day, this is all about a man.” More people started chiming in, and my face grew darker by the second. 3 I never thought that I, the victim, would be labeled as some pathetic woman obsessed with a man. As more people took her side, Amber’s confidence swelled. She placed a hand on her stomach and gave me a triumphant smirk. “Honey, I helped you see your man for the cheater he is. You should be thanking me, not causing a scene. You’re being so ungrateful.” I could feel her deliberately trying to provoke me, hoping for an explosive reaction. It was obvious she was an expert at manipulating a situation and shifting the focus. Seeing her increasingly smug expression, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face. “A homewrecker is a homewrecker. Did someone teach you to build a monument to your own virtue after sleeping with another woman’s man?” After the slap, I saw a flash of triumph in her eyes, though her expression immediately crumpled into one of pain and sorrow. She clutched her cheek, her voice choked with emotion. “This world is so cruel to women. It takes two people to make a mistake, but you only come after me.” With that, she transformed into the perfect victim. The other customers and staff immediately rushed to her side, forming a protective circle around her. I frowned, a sudden realization dawning on me. This woman had been pushing me to confront my fiancé from the very beginning. Her goal was to make me fight with the man, so she could swoop in and pick up the pieces. “It does take two,” I said, my own eyes welling up with tears as I put on a performance of my own. “How do you know I haven’t confronted my fiancé? He denies ever knowing you. But you’re the one who texted me in the middle of the night to taunt me. Shouldn’t I come to you?” I grabbed the arm of a girl standing nearby, showing her the messages Amber had sent me last night. “Look at this. Isn’t she deliberately trying to provoke me? My fiancé isn’t even in town. I called him, and he denies everything. My only option was to confront her directly.” “If this is true, I’m calling off the wedding,” I added, my voice cracking. The girl read the messages, and her face twisted in disgust as she looked at Amber. “You’re the one in the wrong, and instead of lying low, you jump out and provoke his fiancée? That’s disgusting.” She then read Amber’s first text aloud for everyone to hear: “‘Annie, can you give me your fiancé’s number? I missed my period this month, and I’m starting to get scared.’” “Wow, the passive-aggression is off the charts. If that were me, I’d be furious too.” The girl read a few more of the messages, and the expressions on the faces of the onlookers shifted. Those who had been standing by Amber awkwardly shuffled a few feet away. Amber hadn’t expected me to play the victim card. Her face paled slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for the child in my belly. And besides, I helped you see your fiancé’s true colors. Isn’t it better to find out he’s a scumbag now, before you’re actually married?” She had the audacity to look like she was doing me a favor. I almost laughed out loud. “Don’t you dare say you’re doing this ‘for my own good.’ I’m your client, for God’s sake. If you really cared about my well-being, you wouldn’t have slept with my fiancé. And now he’s calling you a liar and denying you even exist. Why don’t you clear that up for me?” My words seemed to surprise her. “Didn’t you see the picture I sent?” “I didn’t get a good look before you unsent it,” I said dismissively. “Since you claim you slept with my fiancé, show me some proof. After all, you didn’t even manage to get his number.” 4 My taunt seemed to trigger her competitive streak. She pulled out her phone. “I said I didn’t have his phone number. We’re connected on social media.” She opened a chat window. The profile name was ‘Tomer,’ and the avatar was his. I squinted, trying to get a better look, but she quickly snatched the phone back and placed a video call through the app. At that moment, I pulled out my own phone, my heart pounding. Was it possible Tomer had been lying to me? But a second later, the call connected, and the voice that came through the speaker was unmistakably Aidan’s. “Honey, your fiancée is here at my office, making a scene. What do I do? I’m so scared,” Amber cooed, her voice dripping with false fear while her eyes shot me a look of pure provocation. Aidan’s voice, full of disdain, crackled from the phone. “What’s there to be scared of? It’s not like she can eat you.” “But she said you won’t even acknowledge our relationship. You’re not just going to sleep with me and then dump me, are you?” Amber’s voice became even more saccharine, sending shivers down my spine. She completely ignored the disgusted looks from the people around her, her eyes fixed on me, eagerly awaiting my reaction. Aidan laughed on the other end. “Of course not. If Annie hadn’t come along first and gotten the family’s approval, I would have broken up with her a long time ago. Let her make a scene. If it gets too bad, you can quit, and I’ll support you.” Aidan’s voice was loud and clear. Everyone in the showroom heard it. Amber shot me a triumphant smirk. The onlookers now looked at me with pity. The girl who had read my texts aloud stepped forward and put a supportive hand on my arm. I feigned an expression of utter disbelief and lunged for Amber’s phone. She stepped back, still holding the phone to her ear. “What if your fiancée comes to find you?” “Let her,” Aidan’s voice boomed. “I doubt she has the guts. She’s lucky to be marrying into our family.” That was the last straw. Even Tomer wouldn’t dare say something so arrogant. Where did Aidan get the nerve to say I was lucky to be marrying into his family? I was about to open my mouth and let him have it, but Amber, satisfied, ended the call. She looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt. “It seems you don’t have the courage to confront your fiancé after all, Ms. Davis. Everything you said before was just a lie.” “A woman needs to learn to love herself. If you just cling to a man, one day he’ll let you down. Consider this a lesson from me: men can’t be trusted.” “There’s no point in directing all your anger at me. It’s 2025. When will you learn that when a man cheats, it’s not just the other woman’s fault? Most of the blame lies with your own partner.” “It’s obvious you can’t handle your fiancé. So why not just recognize him for the scumbag he is and walk away?” Her little speech, incredibly, seemed to win over several people in the crowd again. I even saw someone recording a video. “Now that’s what I call a strong female lead,” the person recording muttered. “You guys, this sales agent is amazing. So calm, so clear-headed.” I was so furious I could only laugh. “Are you people insane? Now we’re glorifying homewreckers and calling them strong female leads?” “Getting involved with someone who’s already in a relationship is morally wrong. There’s no excuse. You can’t just say ‘it’s mostly the man’s fault’ and expect to get off scot-free.” “And don’t you stand there acting like you’re my savior. I don’t need you to rescue me.”

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