Category: English

Three years after the crash that supposedly stole my memory, I faced Nathan again at a Sotheby’s auction. He was bidding on jewels for his wife. I was there to reclaim what was mine. Time had left him haggard. I, on the other hand, was gleaming. My radiance clearly unnerved him. When his target lot appeared, he finally cracked. “Scarlett,” he said, his voice strained, “I lied to you after the accident. I was your real fiancé.” I traced the substantial diamond on my ring finger, a subtle smile gracing my lips. After all, who ever said the amnesia was real? All eyes at the auction were fixed on a single jade bangle. Its only flaw lay hidden on the inner surface: a web of hairline cracks, meticulously sealed with a delicate gold inlay. Nathan’s pupils constricted. His gaze darted to me, a flicker of panic in his eyes. Of course he recognized it. After all, those hairline fractures were his doing. That was three years ago. It was also the twentieth year of my love for Nathan. Since childhood, I had trailed after him, offering my very best for nothing more than a fleeting smile. At first, he paid me little mind, but he grew accustomed to my presence. When he was eighteen, someone confessed their feelings to him. As he gently refused them, his eyes found mine across the room. A knowing smile played on his lips, as if he’d seen right through my childish crush from the very beginning. He leaned in then, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “The truth is… you’re the one I’ve been waiting for.” My cheeks flushed crimson. When I tried to pull away, he cupped my face, his kisses trailing softly from my forehead, to the tip of my nose, and finally, meeting my lips. Our secret didn’t stay hidden from Grandpa Anderson for long. He took charge, formally arranging our engagement. From that day on, I had every right to stay by Nathan’s side. Sadly, that was precisely when he began to change. Nathan’s gaze drifted to the scar on my shoulder, now masked by an intricate rose tattoo. His eyes welled with a pained tenderness as he asked cautiously, “Scarlett… is that from the accident?” I offered a cool smile, my expression as detached as if I were regarding a stranger. Just then, an overly sweet voice sliced through the tension. “Nathan, I’ve absolutely fallen for this bangle. You’ll get it for me, won’t you? Look, it’s so reminiscent of…” The words died in Tiffany’s throat the moment her eyes landed on me. The triumphant smile that had been blooming on her face vanished, replaced by a ghastly pallor and features twisted with sheer jealousy. But she composed herself in an instant, clinging to Nathan’s arm. As if to flaunt her victory, she declared. “Scarlett, long time no see. Nathan and I are married now. You’re not upset, are you?” The next second, a look of wicked glee crossed her face, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, giggling. “Oh, I forgot. Scarlett doesn’t even remember anything from back then. How could she be upset?” I swirled the wine in my glass, watching them with serene elegance. Three years had changed Tiffany a lot. I remembered the first time I saw her. She was a timid girl, fresh from the countryside, wary of everything. She was Nathan’s junior at university, and after graduation, she became his assistant. At first, Nathan took extra care of her, and I didn’t think much of it. I was utterly convinced that the love between Nathan and me was so strong, it couldn’t possibly make room for anyone else. So, the first time I walked in on Nathan gently kissing away Tiffany’s tears, my mind went blank. He saw me. In a panic, he shoved Tiffany aside, his words tumbling out in a stammer. “Scar, Tiff was upset about a work mistake. I was just comforting her.” I struggled to suppress the sharp pangs in my chest, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace. If only I had known, that was only the beginning.

After that day, Tiffany and Nathan became inseparable. Nathan claimed she was his assistant who needed to learn the ropes. At the convenience store near our office, I stood behind them in line. Tiffany, utterly oblivious to anyone else, clung to his sleeve like a kitten seeking shelter in his embrace. During meetings, she’d sit beside him, file in hand, while their fingers secretly intertwined beneath the table. Even the dinner plans we had made would be canceled at the last moment because she had, as he put it, “a bit of a headache.” That day, I stood in the pouring rain, drenched the entire night. When I stumbled back to the mansion, soaked and miserable, he merely glanced up. His voice, tinged with irritation, dismissed me. “Scar, don’t overthink it. She’s far from home, alone, and it’s not easy for her. I’m just trying to look out for her.” I nodded, my heart twisting painfully, my throat tightening. “I know.” But only I knew that I spent that day curled under the showerhead, hiding every sob within the drumming water. I came down with a high fever that very night. Nathan finally panicked. He rushed to the hospital, pulling me into a tight embrace, his voice low and laced with profound heartache. “Scarlett, what have you done to yourself?” I groggily opened my eyes, feeling the familiar scent of cedar wood from his body brush past my nose. For a moment, I almost believed we were back to how things used to be. Just then, Nathan’s phone rang. Tiffany’s whiny, tearful voice drifted from the other end. “Nathan, it’s so dark at home. I’m scared. Can you come stay with me?” The arms holding me stiffened instantly. My fingers instinctively tightened around his sleeve, but in the very next second, his body shifted away, letting me slide slowly from his embrace. He took a deep breath, ruffled my hair with false tenderness, and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Scar,” he said, his voice calm yet unbearably cruel, “you have a caregiver here at the hospital.” “Tiff gets scared. She can’t sleep alone. It’s pathetic, I know.” “I’ll go for a bit. I’ll be back soon.” With that, he decisively pulled his hand from mine and left without a backward glance. He never came back that night. Then a new message flashed on my phone: “He doesn’t care about you at all! He doesn’t love you! He’s happiest when he’s with me! You old hag, why don’t you just disappear?!” Attached was a video of them half-dressed, limbs entangled. A hot rush of blood surged to my head. Fueled by the high fever, the world spun, and I nearly lost consciousness. When I woke up the next day, Tiffany was standing by my hospital bed. She made a point of showing off the hickeys on her neck, hher face glowing with triumph as if the victory was already hers. “Scarlett, you have no idea how fierce Nathan gets when he’s with me. I doubt he ever showed you that side, did he?” I’d been spoiled and cherished by both our families since childhood, never one to swallow an insult. The moment the words left her mouth, I snatched the flower basket from the bedside table and hurled it straight at her. Nathan walked in at that exact moment. Tiffany immediately crumpled to the floor, weeping fake tears in Nathan’s arms. “Nathan, I only came here out of concern for Scarlett, but I never expected her to go crazy and try to hit me the moment she saw me…” I was about to speak when I heard a sharp smack. A crisp slap landed on my face. “Scarlett! How did you become so malicious?! You’ve truly disappointed me!” I stared, utterly disbelieving, at Nathan. That was the first time he had ever laid a hand on me.

After that day, Nathan and Tiffany grew even closer, inseparable. And while I lay in my hospital bed, Tiffany secretly filmed me throwing the flower basket and posted the clip online. Overnight, I became the target of a massive online hate campaign. I was branded a spoiled, mentally unstable heiress. Even at the company, colleagues I saw daily began whispering behind my back. “Do you think Scarlett really had a mental breakdown?” “I heard she’s been obsessed with Mr. Anderson for years. She’s harassing Tiffany now that he’s moved on.” Things escalated. On the street, self-appointed vigilantes would rush me, yanking my hair, hitting and kicking me without mercy. “That’s her! The rich heiress from online who bullies poor Tiff! And a homewrecker too!” The moment the word “homewrecker” was shouted, more people would swarm. They pinned me to the ground. Slap after slap rained down until my face was bruised and swollen beyond recognition. Someone even suggested stripping me naked. Countless hands tore at my clothes, nails digging into my flesh. I desperately clutched the few remaining scraps of fabric, pleading in vain. But no one listened. The police arrived belatedly, only when I was barely conscious. They casually took me from the scene and dropped me back at the mansion. Facing everyone’s misunderstandings and accusations, Nathan merely gave me a cold, dismissive look, his brows furrowed in annoyance. “Scarlett, is this your new way of fighting for attention?” “I told you already, there’s nothing between Tiff and me. You really need to calm down for a while!” No sooner had he finished speaking than he stormed out of the mansion without a backward glance. After this incident, when Nathan and I returned to the family estate, the relatives’ gazes were filled with blatant disdain. They all said I had brought nothing but shame upon both the Anderson and Blackwood families. Grandpa Anderson had already passed away by then. Every time Nathan and I returned, we’d go to pay our respects at his mausoleum. But this time, Tiffany came along. In previous years, only direct relatives from the Anderson and Blackwood families were allowed into the mausoleum. Yet, Nathan, breaking all tradition, permitted Tiffany to enter. When faced with his relatives’ confusion, Nathan didn’t hesitate to defend Tiffany. “Even though Tiff isn’t an Anderson by blood, she’s more sensible, respectful, and dignified than some self-proclaimed high-society women.” “If she genuinely respects Grandpa, why shouldn’t she be allowed to pay her respects?” The moment he finished speaking, all eyes swivelled to me. Disgusted, mocking, scrutinizing stares. I felt like I was being publicly nailed to a pillar of shame. Unable to bear their gazes any longer, I lowered my head and fled, escaping to Grandpa Anderson’s memorial. My nose stung, thinking of the boundless love Grandpa Anderson had once shown me. Just then, Tiffany walked in. She smirked at me, then at Grandpa Anderson’s memorial plaque, resentment and jealousy practically oozing from her. “Scarlett, with your reputation, you’re not still delusional enough to think you’ll marry into the Anderson family, are you?” “If it weren’t for that old geezer, setting up that ridiculous engagement between you two, I’d be married to Nathan right now!” Before I could react, she grabbed the memorial plaque and the urn, smashing them violently to the floor. The plaque and urn shattered, splitting into countless pieces. I stared, stunned, for a moment before lunging at her, tackling her. “Are you insane?! This is the grandfather Nathan and I both loved and respected!” “So what!” She was utterly defiant. “Not only am I going to kick this dead old man out of the mausoleum, but I’m going to steal everything from you and make you leave the Anderson family!” No sooner had she spoken than Nathan, alerted by the commotion, burst in. Tiffany conveniently collapsed to the floor, crying fake tears. “Nathan, I just saw Scarlett’s bangle and thought it was pretty, I only wanted to borrow it. But she attacked me with Grandpa’s urn and plaque, saying she’d kick me out of the Anderson family…” Smack! Tiffany had barely finished speaking when Nathan’s palm connected with my face. He glared at me, his eyes filled with disgust. “Scarlett, you’ve truly disappointed me. All the love Grandpa gave you was wasted.” “You were meant to be Grandpa’s chosen daughter-in-law, and now you’ve desecrated the Anderson family mausoleum. You’ll be punished by family law!” “That’s not what happened! Nathan, let me explain!” But Nathan wouldn’t listen. He ordered his men to throw me into the Anderson family’s private, freezing cellar, where they whipped me repeatedly with barbed leather straps. When my body was a mass of cuts and bruises, my blood staining the murky water, he had a bucket full of leeches unleashed. The writhing leeches instantly covered my body, biting and tearing at my flesh. I screamed until my throat was raw, but no one offered a shred of pity. The Anderson relatives watched, shaking their heads in disdain. “Destroying the old man’s ashes? She deserves this!” When I was on the verge of death, Nathan finally ordered them to pull me out. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of pain crossed his eyes as he looked at me. But it vanished without a trace the instant Tiffany sobbed and clung to his arm. “Scarlett, I just wanted to see your bangle. How could you do this to Grandpa? You’re making Nathan so sad!” I glared at her hatefully, but I had no strength left to argue. Hearing Tiffany mention the bangle again, implying it was the cause of Grandpa Anderson’s ashes being scattered, Nathan’s fury ignited. He waved his hand. The mausoleum guards and his bodyguards instantly swarmed me, pinning me forcefully to the ground. I understood his intention in an instant. “No! Please don’t! Nathan! This is the only relic my grandmother left me, my most precious possession! Throw me back in the cellar if you want! Just don’t take my bangle! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” I screamed and pleaded, but Nathan was unmoved. Despite my desperate struggles, he stubbornly reached for my arm, tearing the bangle off my wrist with brute force. The pain ripped a scream from my throat. Nathan held my bangle, his eyes filled with hatred as he stared at me. “Scarlett, you’d hurt the grandfather who loved you for so long, all for this dead object? Do you have any conscience?!” “Today, I’m going to punish you. I’ll make you feel the pain I’m feeling right now!” With that, he savagely hurled the bangle to the ground. The jade bangle instantly shattered into countless pieces. The severe injuries to my body and the profound trauma to my soul made me let out a despairing wail, then I passed out.

I woke up in the Anderson family’s dog kennel. Everyone believed I was responsible for Grandpa Anderson’s ashes being scattered, so they unanimously refused to let me stay anywhere inside the Anderson family estate. Nathan couldn’t argue with them and had no choice but to put me in the dog kennel temporarily. When I woke, I heard the hushed whispers of Tiffany and Nathan outside. She was pouting, whining to Nathan. “Nathan, why did you smash that bangle? What a waste, I really liked it…” “Enough!” Nathan snapped, cutting Tiffany off impatiently. “Understand your place. Such an expensive bangle isn’t something you’re worthy of wearing.” “I punished Scarlett because she made a mistake. Don’t you dare think you can take advantage of this to claim her bangle.” With that, Nathan walked away without looking back. Tiffany stood there alone, her eyes filled with venomous resentment. A sharp ache in my chest brought me fully to my senses. Never in my life had I endured such humiliation. I forced myself to stand, my body screaming in protest, and made my way to the garage. Finding my car, I sped out without a backward glance. I completely missed Tiffany standing at the estate gate, a cold smirk on her face as she watched me leave. At the same time, a Lamborghini, moving like lightning, roared out of the estate, hot on my heels. It was raining heavily. I drove on, my heart heavy with injustice. Nathan’s Lamborghini quickly caught up. He rolled down his window, yelling at me to pull over. But I didn’t listen. I pressed the accelerator like a madwoman, desperate to escape Nathan. Unexpectedly, I saw a ‘Road Closed’ construction sign directly ahead. Panicked, I slammed on the brakes. But there was no response. The brakes, I realized with a jolt, had been tampered with. Terror consumed me as I watched my sports car veer off the road, crashing violently into the deep construction pit. My last memory was the searing pain as the airbag slammed into me. When I next awoke, Nathan was by my bedside. His chin was covered in dark stubble, his eyes sunken, heavy with dark circles – he looked utterly ravaged. Seeing me wake, a long-lost expression of relief finally appeared on his face. He reached for my hand, his lips parting to speak, but I spoke first. “Who are you?” He froze, his eyes darting toward the doctor. The doctor explained that the severe impact might have caused amnesia. In that moment of confusion… Nathan hesitated, his gaze uncertain. I pressed him again. “Are you my boyfriend?” This time, Nathan’s demeanor shifted from concern. He gently took Tiffany’s hand, who was standing beside him, and spoke to me in a voice utterly alien. “Little girl, you’ve got the wrong person.” “I’m not your boyfriend. I’m her boyfriend.” In that instant, an intense pain spread through my chest, almost suffocating me. Despite it, I forced a smile, holding back tears, and softly asked him, “Really? Will I still be able to wait for my boyfriend to come back then?” Nathan hesitated, his voice thick with an emotion he couldn’t voice. “You will. He definitely will.” Then he took Tiffany’s hand and fled the room as if escaping a burning building. The moment they disappeared, I could no longer hold back. I clutched the fabric over my aching chest, my body shaking with suppressed, anguished sobs. And the reason I did all this? Because while I lay unconscious, I had uncovered a devastating secret… Now, in the Sotheby’s auction hall, Nathan’s sorrow-filled eyes remained fixed on the jade bangle displayed under the glass, his gaze heavy with palpable pain. He never noticed Tiffany beside him, her face equally contorted with bitter jealousy as she stared at the same heirloom. She shot me an icy glare before possessively linking her arm through Nathan’s, her expression one of absolute triumph. “Don’t think I’m unaware, Scarlett,” she sneered. “Both the Blackwoods and Andersons disowned you after you smashed that funeral urn!” “I’d love to see what you plan to use against me for this bangle today.” I watched her furious display and offered a lazy, unconcerned smile. Who said I had any intention of competing?

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My mom is an “illness influencer.” The catch? I’m the one with cancer. Every day, she goes live, forcing me to swallow a cocktail of pills on camera and perform my suffering for an audience. By monetizing my fake symptoms, she’s made a fortune. Then a local man offered her ten thousand dollars. He claimed to have a miracle cure and insisted on administering it to me in person. My mom agreed. Mom ended the live stream, wiped away her crocodile tears, and her eyes lit up as she counted the day’s earnings. Meanwhile, I was dizzy, seeing stars, a cold sweat breaking out all over my body from the pain. She didn’t even glance my way. “Lily, my little cash cow, you were wonderful today!” she crooned, leaning in for a kiss. A wave of nausea twisted my stomach, and I flinched back instinctively. Her smile dropped. Her eyes turned sharp and cold. She seized my arm, her fingers digging into the tender flesh. “Why are you pulling away? If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead in a ditch! What’s the big deal about pretending to be sick? It’s not like it’s actually killing you.” My arm was a canvas of old yellowing bruises and fresh purple ones. It started with her just making me act weak and frail on camera for sympathy. But when she saw how slow the money trickled in, she got her hands on some pills. She claimed they would just make me look tired, that they were harmless. But I knew better. After taking the pills, my vision would darken, my ears would ring, and my heart would pound like crazy. I tried spitting them out a few times, in secret. When she caught me, she dragged me by my hair, shoved my face into the toilet bowl, and forced me to retrieve the dissolving pills. “Spit it out, will you? Go on, spit it out again! I spent my money on these damn pills, how dare you waste them!” After that, I never tried again. Yesterday’s live stream went differently. The pills hit me harder than ever. My body wouldn’t stop twitching, and I vomited my entire dinner across the bedsheets. Mom panicked for a second, then instantly burst into tears for the camera. “My baby is getting worse! It’s a complication! Please, everyone, we need your help!” That stream set a new record for donations. That night, for the first time in ages, she bought me a little cupcake. The sickly-sweet frosting made my throat seize up, threatening to make me vomit again. “Lily, Mommy wants to talk to you about something.”  Her voice was soft, unnaturally so. Every time she spoke in that tone, I knew something worse was coming. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “There’s a man, a local guy, who feels really bad for you. He wants to come over and see you, maybe bring you some food.” She watched my face closely. “He said his daughter had the same illness, and… she passed away. He wants to make up for his regrets through you.” A chill ran through me, and my teeth started to chatter. “No… Mom, I don’t want to see strangers.” She grabbed my hand, her grip terrifyingly strong. “Just for one visit! He said he’d give us ten thousand dollars just to see you! Ten thousand, Lily! We won’t have to stream for half a year!” Her eyes were bloodshot, like a demon’s. “But Mom, you said that last time… and the time before that…” My voice was barely a whisper. Last week, to film a “critical condition” video, she somehow got an oxygen mask and strapped it to my face, almost suffocating me for real. After it was over, she also said we could take a break. But the very next day, because there was a live stream challenge, she gave me double the pills. “This time it’s for real!” She impatiently flung my hand away, then forced herself to calm down and coaxed me. “Lily, just help Mommy this one last time. Once we get the money, Mommy will take you to the amusement park, and buy you the prettiest dresses, okay?” An amusement park. I’d only ever seen it in other kids’ photos. I watched as she pulled another strip of white pills from her pocket. “Here, take your medicine first. Later, your face will look worse, it’ll seem more realistic.”

I took the pills anyway. Because she said if I didn’t cooperate, she’d abandon me under a bridge and let the rats bite me. She said it, and she’d do it. The pills took effect quickly, and cold sweat soaked through my pajamas. Mom changed me into an old, faded outfit, even deliberately tearing a few small holes in it. She adjusted the lighting several times to make my face look even worse. The doorbell rang. My heart lurched, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Mom rushed to open the door, her voice instantly turning humble and sorrowful. “Mr. Jenkins? Please come in, my child’s not doing well today.” A tall shadow loomed over me. It was a man in a leather jacket, carrying a fruit basket. He reeked of stale cigarette smoke, making me want to throw up even more. He walked closer, looking down at me with a complex expression that sent shivers down my spine. “Poor thing, so young.” He sighed, his voice rough. He reached out, as if to touch my forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut, stiff with fear. Mom quickly stepped in. “Sir, she’s shy with strangers, and the doctor said to avoid too much contact, for fear of infection.” The man pulled his hand back, saying nothing. He sat on the sofa and started chatting with Mom. It sounded like Mom was complaining, talking about how expensive medical bills were, and how hard it was for her alone. I curled up in the corner of the sofa, trying to fight off waves of dizziness and nausea that grew stronger with each passing moment. Their voices sounded like they were coming from very far away. “So, Mr. Jenkins, given the situation…” Mom probed. The man was silent for a moment, then suddenly spoke. “My daughter was just like this before she passed.” Mom immediately started to sob. “The money, I can give it,” the man interrupted her crying. “But, I need to make sure this money is actually used for the child’s treatment.” “Of course! Of course!” Mom quickly assured him. The man stood up, walked over to me, and looked down at me from above. “Tell you what, why don’t you give the child a bit of this miracle cure I brought, right now, and I’ll observe the effect. If the child’s face brightens up a bit, I’ll transfer the money immediately.” Mom froze. “Now? Mr. Jenkins, the child just took her medicine and is sleeping, maybe we shouldn’t disturb her?” The man’s tone was uncompromising. “Just a little, I’ll watch you give it to her.” Mom hesitated. She was afraid that if I drank it, I might throw up on the spot, or show other symptoms, and expose everything. But the lure of ten thousand dollars was too great. She gritted her teeth and took a small glass bottle from the man. “Lily, come on, open up, have some good stuff.” She helped me sit up and brought the bottle to my mouth. The liquid gave off an indescribably strange smell. I clamped my mouth shut, shaking my head furiously. “The child isn’t cooperating, is she?” the man’s voice turned cold. Mom panicked, pinching my waist hard, and hissed. “Open your mouth!” The pain made me gasp, and my mouth sprang open. The viscous liquid immediately poured in. The taste was indescribably disgusting, and I instinctively wanted to spit it out. But Mom clamped her hand over my mouth, forcing me to swallow. A burning sensation spread from my throat all the way to my stomach, followed by violent cramping. I arched my back abruptly, retching uncontrollably, and my vision went black. “See! I told you it would work! The child is reacting!”

Mom tried to help me sit up, but I couldn’t control myself. I lunged forward suddenly and threw up with a loud retch. Blood splattered all over the floor and onto the man’s pants. “Lily! What’s wrong? Don’t scare Mommy!” She knelt over me, patting my back. But all I felt was the world spinning, then it went completely black. Before losing consciousness, the last thing I heard was my mom’s choked, yet incredibly practiced, shout into her phone. “Everyone! Something’s happened! My child is spitting blood! Please, help us, save my child!” When I woke up again, my throat felt like it was on fire, and I had no strength in my body. “Lily? Are you awake?” Mom’s face leaned close, her eyes swollen and red, as if she’d been crying for a long time. She grabbed my hand-the one not hooked up to an IV-and pressed it against her face, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “You scared Mommy so much, you really scared Mommy…It’s all Mommy’s fault, Mommy didn’t know that damn bastard’s medicine was poisoned!” As she spoke, real tears fell, hot against the back of my hand. “Mommy will never do that again, we won’t stream anymore. When you’re better, Mommy will take you away from here, we’ll go to the amusement park, and I’ll buy you lots of pretty dresses, okay?” She promised again and again, her voice so sincere that I almost believed her. I looked at her, unable to speak, just blinked softly. During these few days in the hospital, she had indeed reined herself in. She stopped mentioning live streaming, carefully fed me porridge, and slept curled up in the bedside chair at night. I thought the gates of hell had finally closed. Until that afternoon, she took a phone call. Her voice started low, then gradually rose. “You said you brought the wrong thing? Ten thousand? No way, my child just barely survived.” I kept my eyes closed, but my heart sank little by little. After she hung up, she sat by the bed for a long time, so long I thought she’d fallen asleep. Then, her cold hand grasped mine. “Lily.” “Mr. Jenkins, he just called. He said he made a mistake, that the last thing he gave us was for someone else. This time, it’s the real miracle cure.” I abruptly opened my eyes, staring at her in horror. She avoided my gaze, her voice even lower. “He said if you go to his house and try the medicine just once, he’ll give us thirty thousand dollars. Thirty thousand, Lily! That’s enough for us to leave here and start a new life!” I tried to pull my hand away with all my might, but she held me in an iron grip. “No! I won’t go, he’ll kill me…” My voice was hoarse, tinged with tears. “He won’t! This time he definitely won’t!” She promised urgently, but her eyes flickered. “He guaranteed it! And Mommy will go with you, I’ll be right there watching!” “You said that last time too…” I reminded her despairingly. Her face instantly darkened, reverting to impatience and cruelty. She abruptly let go of my hand and stood up. “Lily! I’m telling you, you’re going whether you want to or not! Do you think staying in the hospital is free? Where am I supposed to get the money? Do you want us both to sleep on the streets?!” She paced the room twice, then sat back down, lowering her voice to threaten me. “If you don’t listen, I’ll leave you here in the hospital, and you can pay the medical bills yourself! See if those doctors and nurses won’t kick you out!” I knew she would do it. From the moment she pressed my face into the toilet to film a video, I knew. In the end, she dragged me out of the hospital bed.

That man’s house was in a very old apartment building. When he opened the door, he reeked of cigarette smoke. Seeing me, he grinned. “You’re here, come on in.” My mom pushed me forward, forcing me into the apartment. “The child does look pretty weak.” He reached out and squeezed my arm hard. It hurt, and I flinched. “Mr. Jenkins, about the money…” My mom rubbed her hands together, a flattering smile plastered on her face. The man ignored her, just staring at me, his expression growing increasingly unsettling. “Stop faking it,” he suddenly said, his voice hoarse and unpleasant. Both my mom and I froze. “Faking it? What are you talking about?” My mom’s voice trembled slightly. The man scoffed, pulled out his phone from his pocket, swiped a few times, and the screen clearly showed a screenshot of my mom’s live stream. “You can fool those idiots online, but you can’t fool me.” In a sudden, brutal motion, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me into the center of the living room. “Look at this pale face! Took the wrong medicine, did you? I know real sickness when I see it!” I screamed, thrashing against his grip. “Let go of my daughter!” My mom rushed forward, trying to pull him away. He threw his elbow back, a sharp, vicious blow that connected with her chest and sent her stumbling. She crashed against the wall, clutching her chest, struggling to breathe for a long moment. The man released my hair but gripped my neck, pressing me down hard onto the cold concrete floor. “Ten thousand dollars just to watch a show? I’m paying money to play for real!” I trembled, trying to run. He wasn’t some benevolent stranger trying to make up for regrets; he was a psycho. “No! Please! We don’t want the money! Let us go!” My mom finally caught her breath and cried out, begging for mercy. The man laughed, released my neck, and started unbuckling his belt. “Another ten thousand.” He looked at my mom, his eyes wild. “You help me hold her down, and I’ll give you the money when we’re done.” My mom’s face instantly turned as white as paper. She looked at the man, then at me, trembling on the floor. Then, she avoided my gaze and slowly walked over. Her voice was soft, yet it cut like a knife. “Be good, just bear with it, it’ll be over soon. Forty thousand is enough for us to live on for a long time…” She reached out and pressed down on my shoulders. The man let out a triumphant laugh, his rough hands tearing at my clothes. I don’t know where I found the strength, but I suddenly lifted my leg and kicked him with all my might. The man was caught off guard. My kick landed hard in his stomach. With a sharp yelp, he fell backward onto the floor. “You little bitch! How dare you!” Enraged, he scrambled to his feet and lunged for me. In that split second, I sprang up and stumbled toward the door. My mother moved on instinct to block my path, but I shoved her with all my strength, sending her stumbling back against the wall. Behind me, the man’s curses and my mother’s frantic shouts tangled together. I couldn’t let him catch me. I ran like crazy toward the outside. Only when I saw a woman walking her dog up ahead did I finally break, sobbing. “Help me! Please, help! Someone’s trying to kill me!”

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After being bound to the Compulsory Truth System, my billionaire parents finally took me home. Chloe, the fake daughter, tearfully asked: “Now that you’re back, should I leave?” I snapped back: “Then get out already!” My billionaire parents fumed, “Do you believe we’ll kick you out again?” My mouth blurted out, “Oh, for real? Awesome! Bye-bye then!” Then I became a detective. Officer Blake, looking suspicious, pointed at three photos and asked: “There’s been a serial murder case in our city recently. Who among these three is the killer?” I gave an answer that nobody expected. They were stunned, but I just smiled. After being bound to the Compulsory Truth System, I’d been super careful, keeping my mouth shut whenever possible. I couldn’t help it; my mouth had a mind of its own. But Chloe, the fake daughter, just had to ask, her voice trembling with fake tears: “Since you’re back, should I really leave?” My mouth said: “Don’t just leave, *run*.” Chloe froze, then burst into louder sobs. My dad, Mr. Sterling, roared: “Get upstairs, now!” I scurried up like a shot. Back in the bedroom, which was basically a presidential suite, I locked the door and let out a long sigh of relief. This stupid system was such a pain. Dinner time. Under the crystal chandelier, the long dining table was set with exquisite cutlery. Chloe sat beside my mom, her eyes red, looking utterly pitiful. I silently pulled out the chair furthest from them and sat down, trying my best to become part of the background. ” Eat more, you’re too thin,” Mrs. Sterling said, signaling the maid to serve me. I nodded, making a quiet “Mm” sound. Chloe speared a piece of fish with her fork, her voice soft and sweet: “Try this fish, is it good?” No! My internal alarm bells blared as I stared at that piece of fish. Seriously, mouth, you can say declarative sentences, exclamatory sentences, parallel sentences, but why, *why* do you have to choose a question?! I wanted to say “thank you,” but my mouth, against my will, spilled out: “Oh, that fish was thawed yesterday at 3 PM and then left at room temperature in the kitchen for over four hours before steaming. It’s not very fresh anymore. You eat it yourself.” The air instantly froze. Chloe’s fork stopped mid-air, her face cycling through shades of red and white. Mrs. Sterling clattered her fork down, her perfectly manicured face set in a frosty glare: “**(Y/N)** Sterling! Are you deliberately trying to upset the entire family?!” I wanted to cover my mouth, but couldn’t stop myself from saying: “She’s a fake daughter, she’s been constantly trying to undermine me, can’t you see that?” I was toast. I knew I was in deep trouble. Ever since I’d come back, the Sterling family had avoided talking about Chloe’s future. Her living expenses and luxuries remained untouched; they clearly intended to keep her. Mr. Sterling shot me a furious glare: “Eat your dinner!” I finished that meal under Chloe’s barely-there sniffles and the icy stares of my parents. I ate super fast, then immediately stood up: “I’m done. Enjoy your meal.” And then I got out of there. Behind me, I heard Mrs. Sterling comforting Chloe: “Don’t mind her, sweetie. She grew up in the countryside, no manners…”

The next day, I was dumped into the city’s most exclusive private school, in the same class as Chloe. I didn’t even need to think; this was definitely Chloe’s idea. They claimed it was for me to get the best education, but in reality, she wanted me to feel inferior and timid in comparison to her. I walked into the classroom, wearing a brand new, but utterly uncomfortable, designer uniform, led by the homeroom teacher. Whispers filled the room, and eyes of all sorts—curious, scrutinizing, mostly disdainful—fell upon me. Chloe sat in the front row, flashing me a perfect, gentle smile. I silently walked to the empty seat in the back row and sat down, continuing my “shut up” policy. If I could use a gesture, I wouldn’t speak. If a nod or shake of the head sufficed, I wouldn’t utter a single word. Until math class. The teacher, Ms. Albright, probably got a special directive from the Sterling family to give me extra “attention.” “*can you tell us how to solve this problem?” It was an insanely difficult Olympiad-level math problem. Forget about me, a small-town girl who’d never touched such problems; even the class geniuses rarely got it right. I stared at the blackboard, my mind completely blank. Just as I was about to honestly say, “I don’t know,” my mouth opened like a floodgate, fluently rattling off the solution steps and the final answer. It even added a commentary: “Actually, using the Cauchy-Schwarz inequality would be more concise, or constructing an auxiliary function and taking its derivative also works.” I spoke for over ten minutes before stopping. The classroom was utterly silent. Ms. Albright pushed up her thick glasses, looked at the blackboard, then at me, her eyes filled with shock and disbelief. “Th-that’s… absolutely correct! And the logic is incredibly clear, the solution is very advanced! have you… encountered problems like this before?” I stood frozen, a stampede of thoughts in my mind: *Teacher, would you believe me if I said I was just possessed by an alien?* I really wanted to know how my mouth knew the Cauchy-Schwarz inequality! “…No.” I answered dryly, which, for once, was the truth. My classmates’ eyes instantly changed, from dismissive to astonished. Only Chloe, looking back at me, had a smile that was a little strained. The bell rang for break, and I was the first one out of the classroom, bolting into the restroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realized this cursed mouth not only spoke the truth, but it also spoke *facts*, whether I personally knew them or not. Didn’t that make me a passive human search engine? And one with 100% accuracy, at that? This discovery, amidst my horror, secretly sparked a thrill. Maybe this bug-like ability wasn’t entirely a bad thing?

Chloe clearly wasn’t going to let me live in peace. After school, as soon as I walked out the gate, she and her little clique stopped me. Many students around us slowed down, ready for some drama. Chloe put on a worried expression today: “I know you just came back and want to show off. But… what you did in math class today, it really put the teacher in an awkward position. That problem was so difficult, you must have… seen the answer somewhere beforehand, right?” Her voice wasn’t too loud or too soft, just enough for everyone around to hear clearly. Immediately, suspicious and mocking glances fell on me. I sneered internally, *trying to spread rumors out of thin air?* My mouth automatically started, speaking as fast as a machine gun: “The one who’s in an awkward position is you, Chloe, isn’t it? That handwritten physics formula cheat sheet in your desk, do you need me to find it and read it out loud right now?” Chloe’s face instantly changed, and she unconsciously glanced toward the classroom. I didn’t stop, turning to her head follower, a fashionably dressed girl named Brittany. “And you, Brittany, stop stirring up trouble here. Your basketball player boyfriend was messaging and flirting with three girls at 10:30 last night. The chat history is *very* exciting. Do you need me to remind you of the specific contents? Like how he called one of them ‘sweetie pie’?” Brittany’s face turned instantly white, and she shrieked: “You’re lying!” I then pointed to another chubby boy named Dylan: “Dylan, don’t you dare smirk. That precious notebook in your drawer, signed by Chloe, she threw it in the trash because she didn’t want it, and you picked it up. Not only does she know, she also thinks you’re pretty gross.” The scene fell into a deathly silence, then erupted into an even bigger commotion. The few people I’d named were utterly pale, and the surrounding students’ gazes instantly shifted from me to them, filled with shock. Chloe was shaking with rage, pointing at me: “You… you’re making things up!” I blinked innocently: “Whether I’m making things up, you all know best yourselves, don’t you? Sorry, I have things to do, so I’m leaving.” Before they could recover from the shock of the truth, I quickly squeezed through the crowd. Though I didn’t let them get the better of me, I also clearly realized that if I kept speaking without regard for the situation, something major was bound to happen sooner or later.

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I decided I’d die in three days. Because my dad wanted to sell me to a 60-year-old man for $500. When I refused, he stripped me down and chained me up right by the door. My mom begged for me, and he smashed a stool over her head, blood gushing everywhere. As long as I could remember, Dad had treated us this way. Once I made up my mind to end it all, I actually felt a sense of relief. But then, the diary in my hands suddenly rustled, and a line of text appeared: [Escape! Take Mom with you!] I rubbed my eyes in disbelief—a line of text really had just appeared! I grabbed a pen, my hand trembling as I wrote a question below it. “Who are you? Can you help me escape?” I stared intently at the diary, until the sun went down, but no more movement appeared on the page. That night, my dad went out drinking again. Only then did my mom dare to bring me a bowl of rice. “Mia, eat quickly. Your dad will be back soon.” Then, she started to hammer away at the chains on my ankles, one strike at a time. “Your dad has the key. I don’t know if this hammer will break it, but if it does, Mia, you run.” I didn’t immediately take the bowl. Instead, my nose stung with unshed tears as I looked at the new and old bruises layered on my mom’s skin. “Mom, come with me. Let’s run away.” At my words, Mom instinctively trembled. “This is my home. Where else would I go?” I squeezed her hand tightly, my voice almost breaking. “Mom! This isn’t your home! It’s hell! Today he’s selling me, tomorrow it’ll be you!” Mom just shook her head, letting out that familiar, helpless sigh. As long as I could remember, my dad, Roger, often came home reeking of alcohol. If there was no food on the table, he’d start cursing. “You worthless hag, slacking off again! I work my ass off every day, and I come home to no hot meal!” Before his words even finished, I heard the sharp sound of a slap. My mom’s frail body was pinned against the bed by my bulky, strong dad. One of her slippers lay discarded by the bed. I shakily picked up that slipper and threw it at my dad’s back. He finally let go of my mom’s throat, turned around, and swung his arm, sending me flying into the cabinet. Seeing me get hit, Mom finally seemed to realize she could fight back. She struggled to her feet, trying to pull me into a hug, but Dad kicked her, sending her sprawling back to the floor. “You worthless hag, and you gave me a dead weight of a child. Ugh! You make me look like a loser wherever I go!” Then he grabbed my mom’s hair, smashing her head against the cabinet again and again. The cabinet boomed with each impact. I tried to crawl over and protect Mom, but Dad’s flying kick sent me flying far away again. I watched the thick, bright red blood gush from Mom’s forehead, wetting her hair, which clumped and matted on her face. I don’t know how long it lasted, but Dad eventually seemed to get tired. He spat on my blood-soaked mom. “Now get your ass in there and cook me some food!” Mom clutched the cabinet door, her blood-matted hair sticking to her face, and stumbled into the kitchen. Dad gobbled down the bowl of noodles in a few bites, slammed the bowl onto the table, and crawled into bed. Mom, still with her blood-matted hair, had to wash the bowl Dad had eaten from. She even had to wipe her own blood off the cabinet door with a wet cloth. That night, snores and muffled sobs intertwined in our small home. The next morning, Dad’s drunken stench had faded. Along with it, his violence towards us disappeared too. He acted as if nothing had happened, gently stroking my mom’s freshly scabbed wounds. He hugged her and said, “Sarah, did I get too drunk last night and hurt you again? It’s all my fault, I lose control when I drink. Does this… not affect your work, right?” Just a few words like that, and Mom took it as care, as love. So all the pain and blood, they just vanished with those two sentences. And so, every time Mom was beaten, she would go to that local factory, covered in bruises, to make socks. Days dragged on like this, until I was chained to the door, waiting to be sold. Just then, the diary displayed another line of text. [I’m here to help you! This time, we must succeed!]

I stared at the newly appeared words on the diary, my fingertips burned. I hastily shoved the diary into my embrace, pressing it tight. “Mia, eat quickly, then go.” Mom’s voice was timid and husky, her hand still trembling slightly. As she fed me, the bruise on her wrist brushed my cheek, cold and painful. “Mom can’t leave. Your dad’s ruined his stomach with all his drinking; if I leave, he won’t even have a hot meal. And your brother…” I pushed the bowl away, grabbing her hand, and lowered my voice: “Mom! How long are you going to be this foolish? He doesn’t love you, and he certainly doesn’t love me!” “He sold me to buy that so-called brother of mine a gaming console! And to buy himself more booze!” The spoon in Mom’s hand clattered into the bowl, soup splashed out, and she nervously tried to wipe it, her eyes darting away. She knew, all along, that Dad had cheated on her and Leo wasn’t his son. She’d merely built a fragile illusion of safety with her endless patience, naively believing that submission could buy her a semblance of peace. I looked pleadingly into my mom’s eyes, even beginning to beg. “Mom, please, let’s go. Just for me, okay?” In that moment, for the first time, I saw a crack in her muddy, tear-filled eyes, a glimmer of hesitation. Mom looked at my tear-streaked face, then touched the fresh wounds on her own. Her eyes slowly changed. She hesitated for a long time. Finally, she said nothing, but she picked up the hammer again, hammering even more desperately at the chain on my ankle. The sparks flying from the hammer and chain were like hope igniting in my heart. But the next second, my hope shattered. My dad came back. He rushed over, cursing, and with a swift kick, sent Mom sprawling to the ground. “What the hell are you doing with that hammer? Trying to free this worthless burden? Ruin my payday?!” Mom swayed under the impact, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth, yet she instinctively shuffled half a step towards me, her voice trembling beyond recognition. “Mia is still young, Mr. Jenkins is old enough to be her grandfather. Please, spare her just this once…” “Spare? Who’ll spare me?” “I’ve fed and clothed her for years, how much money has that cost me? $500 is cheap for her! Anyone who tries to stop me today, I’ll break their legs!” Soon, many neighbors, all from our village, gathered at the doorway. They whispered and pointed, but no one stepped forward. Aunt Carol sighed, turning her face away; Uncle Frank squatted on the ground, smoking, shaking his head in silence. No one asked if I was willing, no one cared about the wounds on my mom’s body. Mom’s reddened eyes slowly dimmed. That glimmer of hesitation, extinguished as if by cold water. She hung her head, her shoulders trembling slightly, and then suddenly, she knelt. “I was wrong, I won’t stop you. Please, don’t hit me anymore.” She wiped the blood and tears from her face, her voice as meek as dust. “Mia… Mia will do as you say. She’ll go live with Mr. Jenkins.” My heart plummeted straight into an icy abyss with her words. The hope the diary brought, and Mom’s retreat at this moment, felt like two knives tearing at me. Just then, an angry voice echoed from outside the courtyard gate. “What the hell are you talking about!”

Grandma Eleanor arrived. The moment she saw me chained up, her tears instantly fell. Eleanor quickly walked to my side, reaching out to unlock the chain, but my dad, Roger, who had just come out, blocked her. “What are you doing here?” Eleanor glared at my dad, trembling with rage. “Roger! This child is your own daughter, how can you chain her up like a dog and try to sell her? Are you even human?!” Dad impatiently shook Eleanor off. “My selling my daughter, what does that have to do with you? This is my family business, mind your own!” Eleanor’s face turned red with anger. She pointed a finger at Dad’s nose, cursing him. “Mind my business? You’re hitting my own daughter! You’re selling my own granddaughter! You’re not fit to be a husband, not fit to be a father! How could Sarah have been so blind as to marry a piece of trash like you!” Dad grew impatient with the scolding. “My son needs food, I need my drinks. If I don’t sell this dead weight, where will the money come from?” Then he squinted and stretched out his hand towards Eleanor. “Or why don’t you give me your pension money for my drinks first?” Eleanor’s face flushed crimson, clutching her chest, she stumbled backward. Dad grew even more brazen: “If you’re so reluctant to part with this worthless burden, then you can go to Mr. Jenkins’ house with her, you two are about the same age anyway!” Eleanor’s face turned purple, clutching her chest, she collapsed to the ground. She stared wide-eyed at the gray sky, her lips trembled a few times, as if wanting to say something, but in the end, not a single word came out. “Eleanor!” I cried out in alarm, trying to crawl over and help her, but the chains held me tight, unable to move. Eleanor lay on the ground, her face turning ashen. She stretched out her hand, but before she could speak, her eyes slowly closed. Mom’s legs gave out, and she collapsed beside Eleanor, crying hysterically. “Mom! Mom! Don’t scare me! Wake up!” Dad also froze, mostly sobered up, but his face showed no hint of regret or panic, only intense irritation and disgust. He frowned, spitting on the ground. “Ugh! Fing bad luck! Couldn’t she at least die somewhere else? Dirtying up my yard!” At his words, Mom’s body stiffened. She slowly raised her head, looking at Dad, her eyes filled with disbelief, and a cold, desperate look I’d never seen before. Her tears still fell, but she no longer cried out loud, just stared fixedly at Dad, as if looking at a stranger. Dad looked uncomfortable under her gaze, and kicked her. “What are you standing there for? Get this old hag out of here! Dump her in the wilderness behind the mountain! Don’t let her be an eyesore!” After saying that, he turned and went into the bedroom. She stopped crying. Her gaze swept over Eleanor, then returned to the chains on me. Her eyes suddenly cleared. “Come on, let’s run away together.” I was overjoyed, hastily pulling out the diary to ask. “What’s the next step?” Just then, the diary began to rustle again. [Wait!]

I was getting impatient, snarling at the diary. “Who are you?! You said you’d help me! Now there’s no help, and you say wait! Wait for what?! If I wait any longer, Mr. Jenkins will come pick me up!” The diary was silent for a moment, then words began to appear again. [Eleanor’s death was unexpected even for me, but trying to escape now will definitely get us caught.] [Only when Mr. Jenkins comes to pick you up, escaping Roger, will you have a chance.] I instantly calmed down. I composed myself, carefully writing, letter by letter, in the diary. “Who are you, really?” The diary didn’t respond again. I could only keep it close to me, waiting for this last chance. For the next two days, time felt like an eternity. Mom was busy with Eleanor’s funeral, her face devoid of tears, replaced by a withered, dead silence. Dad, meanwhile, was worse than ever, as if selling me was something to celebrate. He drank even more heavily, pacing drunkenly in front of me, muttering obscenities. “You better behave yourself at the Jenkins’! If they send you back, I’ll break your legs!” I lowered my head, my hand tightly clutching the diary inside my sleeve. [Wait], that single word became my only anchor. Finally, the third day arrived. A beat-up motorcycle sputtered to a stop outside our house. Mr. Jenkins grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellowed, rotting teeth. His cloudy eyes fixed on me, slimy and lingering, like insects crawling on my skin, making my entire body tremble with disgust. “So, I’m taking her now, am I?” Dad instantly switched to a sycophantic grin, hastily offering a cigarette. “Take her, take her! Mr. Jenkins, from now on, this girl is yours to manage. Beat her, scold her, whatever makes you happy!” Mr. Jenkins didn’t take the cigarette. He walked straight to me, raising his hand to pinch my cheek. I sharply turned my head away, my stomach churning. “Tsk, quite a fiery spirit. Just my type!” The chains finally came off. I was roughly pulled up by Mr. Jenkins, shoved towards the motorcycle. Just as I was about to be pushed into the sidecar, I sharply turned my head. She stood at the threshold, her hair messy, the bruises on her face not yet faded. The moment our eyes met, tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back, quickly blinking at me. And discreetly, she slipped a small, polished knife into my pocket, its handle still warm from her palm. I clutched the knife, my knuckles turning white from clenching, and nodded gently. The motorcycle sputtered to life, kicking up a cloud of dust. I stared fixedly in the direction of our house, until that dilapidated door and the solitary figure in front of it completely vanished around the bend. A celebratory meal was already spread out at Mr. Jenkins’ house. The diary began to rustle again. [Get him drunk.] I gritted my teeth, stood up, and slowly walked to the table. “I’ll pour you a drink.” He froze for a moment, then burst out laughing, tilting his head back to down an entire glass of liquor. I kept pouring, and imitating the village women, I urged him, “Drink more, it’ll warm you up.” My encouragement made him drink even more heavily. Before long, his face was flushed crimson, his eyes glazed over. He slumped onto the table, grumbling, and soon began to snore. I held my breath, waiting for a long while, confirming he was truly dead drunk. Only then did I reach for the keyring on his belt, snatching it and bolting out the door. Outside, the sky had already darkened. The wind stung my face, but it felt sweet. I ran like crazy, not stopping even when one shoe came off, an involuntary smile curling on my lips. “Mom. We can finally escape. We’re going to live for ourselves!” The lights were on at home. I gasped for breath, tiptoeing as I pushed open the door. The moment I stepped into the bedroom, my whole body froze.

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The day my parents divorced, two agreements lay on the table. One meant staying in the old neighborhood with my dad, who was drowning in gambling debts. The other meant moving to the coast with my mom, who’d remarried a wealthy man. In my last life, my little sister, Chloe, cried and begged for Mom. I quietly packed my bags and followed Dad. Later, Dad quit gambling and became a millionaire, spoiling me rotten. Chloe, however, was emotionally abused and trapped at home by her stepfather. She eventually succumbed to depression and passed away. This time around, Chloe snatched the cigarette from Dad’s hand and hugged him tight, refusing to let go. “Jade, I feel for Dad. You go to Mom’s, okay? I’ll keep the good life here for you.” Dad paused, then affectionately stroked Chloe’s head, a look of relief on his face. I said nothing, picking up the train ticket for the coast. Chloe didn’t know that in my last life, Dad only quit gambling because I, riddled with a brain tumor, worked myself to death to pay off his debts, coughing up blood. My life was the price for his temporary peace. Now, reborn, with no debt collectors banging on the door, all I wanted was a good night’s sleep.

I picked up my duffel bag. “Get out, get out! Go find your mom, the one who only cares about money.” Dad waved his hand, like shooing away a fly. Chloe hid behind him, making a childish face at me. Her lips exaggeratedly formed the words: “Sis, don’t come begging me for money later.” I just smiled, saying nothing. Then I turned and walked into the rain. I pulled my neck into my shoulders, feeling a chill seep deep into my bones. Honestly, it didn’t matter where I went. I just wanted to find a quiet place to endure these last few moments. No more hearing the gamblers’ creditors banging down the door. No more smelling that sickening stench of cheap cigarettes. Mom’s black Mercedes pulled up at the end of the alley. The window rolled down, revealing her perfectly made-up face. She frowned, looking at me, drenched from head to toe, a flicker of disgust in her eyes. “What happened to you? Get in, quickly, don’t get the car dirty.” I opened the back passenger door, about to slide in. “Put that bag in the trunk.” Mom pointed at the duffel bag in my hand. “It’s filthy, probably crawling with germs.” I paused. But I still obediently closed the door and put the bag in the trunk. Back in the car, I huddled in the corner, careful not to touch the luxurious leather seats. The heater was on full blast, but I still felt cold. “Jade, once we get there, you need to be sensible.” Mom drove, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Your stepfather doesn’t like noise. Don’t leave your room unless you have to.” “Eat quietly, and don’t drag your feet when you walk.” “And never mention your dad. He’s bad news.” I looked out at the rain streaking past the window and nodded. “Got it.” The familiar spike of pain lanced through my head again. My vision blurred for a second. I reached up and pressed my forehead. “What’s wrong?” Mom asked, her tone laced with impatience. “Nothing, just car sickness.” I said. “So delicate,” Mom scoffed. “Just like your dad.” I closed my eyes, swallowing back the metallic taste of blood that welled up in my throat. Next time, no way I’m signing up for this again. The drive took five hours. By the time the car pulled into the hillside villa community, it was pitch black outside. Though ablaze with lights, the whole place felt eerily dead. “We’re here.” Mom parked the car, touched up her lipstick, and took a deep breath. She was shifting gears, transforming from the sharp-tongued woman she was with me into a sweet, devoted wife. “Get out of the car. Remember to call him Mr. Henderson.” I followed her inside, still carrying my duffel bag. A man sat on the living room sofa, a blanket over his legs, a book in his hand. He looked up when he heard us. This was my stepfather, Robert Henderson. 2 The same man who, in my last life, slowly suffocated Chloe until she broke. “You’re back?” His voice was flat, emotionless. “Robert, this is Jade.” Mom pushed me forward, a plastered smile on her face. “Jade, say hello to Mr. Henderson.” I stepped forward and bowed slightly. “Hello, Mr. Henderson.” Robert Henderson turned a page of his book, as if he hadn’t heard me. A few seconds later, he hummed a noncommittal “Hmm” from the back of his throat. His gaze swept over my wet shoes, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. “The carpet was just replaced.” He lowered his head back to his book. “The first room on the left upstairs is the guest room. It’s ready.” “Thank you, Mr. Henderson,” I said. Mom breathed a sigh of relief and pulled me upstairs. “See? Mr. Henderson is really a good man,” Mom whispered. “Just don’t upset him, and you’ll be able to stay in this house.” Inside the room, it was huge and empty. “Mom,” I called out, stopping her just as she was about to leave. “What is it?” “I’d like to change rooms.” Mom’s face instantly changed. “Jade, are you being picky the moment you arrive?” “What’s wrong with this room? It’s a hundred times better than your dad’s dump, isn’t it?” “Don’t be so ungrateful!” I calmly watched her outburst. Only after she finished did I speak. “No, this room faces north, it’s too cold.” “I’d like a south-facing one, even if it’s smaller.” I was truly cold. The brain tumor messed with my body’s temperature control, leaving me perpetually freezing. Only sunlight offered me any comfort. “Cold? Just turn on the AC!” Mom thought I was being unreasonable. “The south-facing rooms are your Mr. Henderson’s study and a storage room.” “Then the storage room,” I said. Mom’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy?” “Why would you stay in a storage room when there’s a perfectly good guest room?” “Are you deliberately trying to make Mr. Henderson think I’m abusing you?” Her voice grew shrill. I covered my ears. It was too loud. My brain felt like it was going to burst. “I’m just cold,” I repeated. Just then, two light taps came from the doorway. Robert Henderson stood there, a glass of water in his hand, his expression grim. I didn’t even notice him arrive. “What’s all the shouting about?” Mom immediately plastered on a different face, her voice trembling. “Nothing, Robert. This child is being difficult, complaining about the room.” “I’m about to teach her a lesson.” Robert Henderson looked at me, and I looked back at him. His face was very pale, his lips bloodless, looking as if he were about to die. “Which room do you want?” he asked me. “The one facing south,” I pointed to the end of the hallway. “That’s where we store old furniture.” “It’s fine, as long as there’s sunlight.” Robert Henderson was silent for a moment. “Suit yourself.” “Just don’t shout in the hallway.” With that, he turned and left, showing no interest in this mother-daughter dispute. Mom poked my forehead hard. “Go ahead and make a scene!” “Staying in a storage room… what will people say about me?” I ignored her. Carrying my duffel bag, I walked to the end of the hallway. Pushing open the door, a cloud of dust greeted me. But I saw the floor-to-ceiling window. When the sun rose tomorrow, it would be warm in here. That was enough. I made my bed and placed the photo album under my pillow. My diagnosis was tucked inside the album. As long as I wasn’t dead, no one would be idle enough to snoop through my things. That night, I slept soundly. There were no debt collectors in my dreams, only endless darkness. 3 I settled into the house, like an invisible ghost. Robert Henderson liked quiet, so much so that even the housekeepers walked on tiptoes. Mom tried every trick in the book to please Robert. Cooking soups, giving massages, watching those boring financial news channels with him. She lived in this house like a high-class housekeeper. As for me, except for meal times, I rarely left my room. The storage room had been tidied up nicely. Though cluttered with old furniture, the sunlight was truly wonderful. I often pulled up a chair by the window and soaked in the sun all afternoon, like an old woman. Sometimes Robert Henderson would pass my door. Seeing me sunbathing, he’d pause, but never spoke. His gaze was strange, like he was looking at a kindred spirit. One afternoon during lunch. The dining table was silent, save for the faint clinking of forks against plates. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. In the quiet living room, it sounded like an alarming siren. Robert Henderson frowned. Mom immediately put down her fork and glared at me. “Who told you to bring your phone to the table? No manners!” “Hang up!” I took out my phone and glanced at the screen. It was Chloe. I pressed decline. Less than two seconds later, it vibrated again. I declined again. The third time it vibrated, Robert Henderson put down his fork. “Answer it,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s giving me a headache.” I took my phone to the balcony. As soon as I answered, Chloe’s voice exploded through the receiver. “Jade, are you doing this on purpose?” “Did you take the passbook?” I held the phone away from my ear. “What passbook?” “Dad says the family passbook is gone, and he’s sure you stole it!” “There’s five thousand dollars in there!” I chuckled. Those five thousand dollars were what I’d earned washing dishes last summer. “That’s my money,” I said. “Even if you earned it, it’s still family money!” Chloe said, her voice dripping with self-righteousness. “Dad can’t buy cigarettes now, and he’s throwing a fit at home!” “Transfer the money right away, or I’ll tell Mom you stole it!” From the other end of the line, I heard things crashing and Dad’s angry curses. “I should’ve strangled you when you were born!” Those sounds, even from hundreds of miles away, still made me feel suffocated. “I didn’t steal it,” I said calmly. “That was my medical fund.” “Medical fund? What kind of sickness do you have?” Chloe scoffed. “Stop playing the victim!” “Transfer the money now, or I’ll come to your school and tell everyone you don’t care if your own dad dies!” I looked out at the garden from the balcony. The flowers bloomed vividly, red as blood. “Chloe.” “You chose your path; you have to walk it, even if you’re crawling.” “Don’t bother me.” With that, I hung up and blocked her number. As I turned, I felt a warm gush from my nose. I reached up and touched it – my hand was covered in blood. I fumbled for a tissue from my pocket and pressed it to my nose. Tilting my head back, I tried to stop the bleeding. The blood flowed rapidly, trickling down my throat into my stomach, making me nauseous. I rushed into the downstairs restroom. Looking in the mirror, I saw bright red blood staining half my face. I turned on the faucet and frantically washed it away. “What are you doing?” A voice suddenly came from behind me. I froze. Through the mirror, I saw Robert Henderson standing in the doorway. He looked at my face, streaked with water and blood, his eyes deep and unreadable. I roughly wiped my face. “Just a nosebleed,” I mumbled, lowering my head. “Probably from the heat.” Robert Henderson didn’t say anything. He walked over and handed me a clean hand towel. “Wipe that off.” I took the towel and pressed it to my nose. “Thank you, Mr. Henderson.” He looked at the faint pink stains in the sink that hadn’t been rinsed away yet. “Does this happen often?” “Occasionally.” I lied. The nosebleeds had been happening more and more frequently lately. Robert Henderson stared at me for a moment. “You should see a doctor,” he said. “No need. It’s an old problem,” I replied, lowering my head, trying to slip past him. “Jade.” He stopped me. “You don’t have to live so cautiously in this house.” “Your mom is your mom; you are you.” I froze, looking up at him. His expression was still detached, but there was a hint of something in his eyes I didn’t understand. “If you’re not feeling well, say something.” “Stop trying to be tough. Nobody’s giving you a prize for enduring all this pain alone.” With that, he turned and left, leaving me alone in the restroom. The towel in my hand carried a faint scent of pine. It was his scent, mixed with a faint whisper of decay.

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She gave her secret crush a luxury surprise and handed me a five-dollar bouquet. That was the moment everything snapped. While she lit candles and chilled champagne for Damian Ashby, I stood in our apartment holding the cheapest flowers in the city, flowers she didn’t even bother to remove the price tag from. Eight years together. And I finally understood where I ranked. So I packed my bags and walked out of the home we built— not because I was heartbroken, but because I refused to be the leftover in her love story. This time, I’m done staying quiet. The day we won the National E-Sports Championship, my girlfriend of eight years said she wanted to personally present me with flowers on stage. Standing on the podium, I eagerly pulled out the ring I had hidden, ready to give her a grand proposal. But then, with a bright smile, she handed the bouquet to her “best friend,” Damian Ashby, right in front of everyone. Under the spotlight, they became the center of everyone’s attention. On the scene and all over Twitter, people showered them with blessings. Damian’s fans even tagged me in posts: “We told you to stop clinging to our couple. Feeling humiliated now?” I calmly posted a reply: “Respect. Best wishes to you both.” Under the dazzling spotlights, I stood on the podium alongside my teammates. Evelyn Larkson, my girlfriend, walked slowly toward me with a bouquet of roses in her hands. She had once said that when I finally won the national championship, she would reveal our relationship during the award ceremony. Tonight, she seemed to have come just for me, holding roses that symbolized love. It was the first time she had ever given me flowers, and her expression was so affectionate. Blushing, I suppressed my excitement, watching her approach with my full attention. In my mind, I planned it all out. The moment she handed me the flowers, I would drop to one knee, take out the ring, and propose to her live in front of the nation. Even though we had argued yesterday over some trivial matters. But hey, what couple doesn’t bicker sometimes? My hand nervously rubbed the ring box in my pocket. “Congratulations on your championship!” Evelyn extended the flowers toward me. Just as I was about to take them with a delighted smile, the bouquet bypassed my hands and landed firmly in the arms of my teammate, Damian Ashby. Damian, Evelyn’s “best friend,” had known her longer than I had. The smile on my face froze instantly. Looking at my girlfriend, who gazed at Damian with affection, I stood dumbfounded before laughing bitterly at myself. It was Damian. Again. I should’ve seen it coming. To Evelyn, her “best friend” was always more important than her boyfriend. Even our argument yesterday was about Damian. But I never thought she’d openly hand over a bouquet of roses—symbols of love—to him in front of everyone. Damian, with his good looks, had a much larger fanbase in the gaming circuit than the rest of us. Did Evelyn not realize what her actions meant, giving him flowers in front of all these people? I quietly slipped the ring back into my pocket as the crowd’s screams reached a fever pitch. The roar was so loud it felt like it could lift the roof off the arena. Amid the camera flashes, everything around me seemed to dim. Before the award ceremony even ended, their sweet moment was already trending on Twitter. Their chemistry as a “shipped pair” sparked countless fans to root for them. Damian’s fans flooded the video comments, tagging Evelyn and calling her “sister-in-law.” The scene was lively and full of joy. But none of that had anything to do with me. I forced a bitter smile, stepped off the stage, and returned to the locker room alone. Looking at the flood of blessings on Twitter, I suddenly felt exhausted. Maybe this was the perfect moment to end things. So I sent Evelyn a text: “Let’s break up. I won’t get in your way anymore.” The text had barely been sent when Evelyn called. I wasn’t planning to answer. I hung up and grabbed a ride back to my apartment to pack my things. The apartment was one we had shared. Since we’d broken up, there was no way I could keep living under the same roof as her. She could have the place. While I packed, Evelyn bombarded me with messages: “What do you mean, break up?” “Are you throwing a tantrum again? Man up!” “Alright, everyone’s saying we should celebrate. Come on, Damian and the others are waiting for you!” Every word revolved around Damian. She handed roses to another man and turned around to call me petty. I looked at my phone and laughed coldly. Then I turned it off, zipped up my suitcase, and left. With no time to find another place, I returned to the dorms at Apex Gaming Base, where the club had prepared rooms for the players. The base was quiet since everyone else was out celebrating. I instinctively powered on my computer and logged into the game for practice. Only in the game could I find some peace.

It was late at night when Evelyn called again. I was still practicing. I glanced at the phone on the desk, hit the mute button, and ignored it. Then came a barrage of texts: “Why aren’t you home yet?” “Where have you been?” “The flowers I picked for you are wilting. Where are you? Didn’t you say you liked flowers from me?” Do I need flowers given out of guilt? I turned off the screen, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. She was always like this—giving a slap followed by a sweet treat. I used to love her so much that I didn’t see a problem with it. I even convinced myself it meant she cared about me. But now, I’ve woken up. I see through her. It was time to leave. No one is irreplaceable. Neither her nor me. … That night, I stayed up training and then slept through the next afternoon. When I finally made it to the computer room, Evelyn was sitting in my chair, lost in thought. I wasn’t surprised she’d found me. Where else could I go besides the dorm? Hearing my footsteps, she turned and saw me. “Where were you last night? I called and messaged you! I thought something happened to you!” Clearing my throat, I replied flatly, “I slept early.” She looked stunned and frowned in confusion. “What’s with you today? You’re acting all weird.” True. The old me would’ve been thrilled to see her showing up here, eager to unload all my recent frustrations onto her. Now, there was only silence. Naturally, she found it strange. She also seemed to forget I had already broken up with her yesterday—or how she had humiliated me in public. Before I could say anything, she spoke again. “Today’s Damian’s three-year anniversary with the team. He’s hosting a dinner. Let’s go together.” I wanted to make up an excuse to decline. But as teammates, my absence might create unnecessary trouble. Besides, I needed to tell everyone we had broken up. I nodded indifferently, got dressed, and followed her to the hotel. When we arrived, I realized the event wasn’t just for Damian’s friends. It was practically a fan meetup. Before I even entered, the commotion from the Bellwood Grand Hall was deafening. I glanced toward Evelyn, but she had disappeared into the crowd. “Looking for Evelyn? I’ll take you to her,” came Scarlett Monroe’s voice, appearing out of nowhere. She led me upstairs to a private suite, where I could see the stage below. Evelyn appeared, pushing a giant cake while holding a string of pink and white balloons. It was Damian’s surprise gift. The fans screamed wildly, chanting for them to “get married now” and calling Evelyn “sister-in-law.” Scarlett raised her eyebrows at me and gestured toward the stage. “Don’t you think they look perfect together?” I swallowed hard, bitterness rising in my throat. They did. They really did.

Evelyn had never put this much effort into anything for me. Even on my birthday, when I asked for a cake, she’d only complain impatiently, saying, “We’re adults—why bother with pointless formalities?” Yet here she was, going out of her way to prepare such a grand surprise for Damian in front of everyone. Turns out, people only put in effort for the ones they truly care about. Scarlett Monroe observed my reaction, clearly satisfied by how much it stung. She smirked, a sly, knowing smile that twisted like a thorn in my heart. After the event, Evelyn and Damian returned to the private suite together. Scarlett immediately hooked her arm around Evelyn’s and teased, “Evelyn, pulling off such a big surprise for Damian—aren’t you afraid your boyfriend will get jealous?” Evelyn froze, then glanced at me. A flicker of guilt crossed her eyes. “Next time, for your birthday or our anniversary, I’ll plan something just as big for you,” she said hesitantly. I shook my head lightly. “Don’t bother.” If it’s the same thing you’ve already done for someone else, how could it even count as a surprise? I wasn’t about to accept someone else’s leftovers. Evelyn pressed her lips together, as if she wanted to say more. Before she could, Damian chimed in. “Logan, you’re not seriously upset, are you? Evelyn was just going along with the publicity plan. Don’t be so petty.” “As her boyfriend, you should be more understanding. Don’t make her guess what’s on your mind all the time. That’s exhausting for her.” Classic Damian, always stepping up to defend Evelyn. I let out a soft laugh. “With you looking out for her, why would she ever need anyone else?” The words carried a sharp edge, freezing the room in an instant. Damian sighed dramatically, offering a resigned smile. “Alright, fine. If it makes you feel better, I’ll apologize. Don’t be mad at Evelyn.” The air hung heavy with awkwardness until someone broke in to lighten the mood. “Come on, we’re all teammates—no need for these formalities. Let’s drink!” Scarlett, grinning mischievously, stepped into the center. “Today’s not the only story. Evelyn gave Damian flowers yesterday too!” She giggled and glanced at me, looking for confirmation. Evelyn seemed to think Scarlett had pinpointed the issue. She turned to me. “You’re upset over something that trivial?” Casually, she added, “I bought you flowers yesterday too, but you left early, so I couldn’t give them to you. I still have them, though.” She walked to a corner of the suite, pulling out a small, wilted bouquet of lisianthus from a box filled with beer bottles. The second she produced it, someone stifled a laugh. It was painfully clear why—the lisianthus bouquet looked embarrassingly cheap next to the extravagant roses she’d given Damian. Damian had even brought the roses along, making the comparison all the more glaring. I could feel the mocking stares around me, silently ridiculing the idea that I could ever compare to Damian. Damian raised his eyebrows smugly, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. Feigning disapproval, he glanced at the lisianthus and said, “Evelyn, you should’ve given Logan roses. Why this?” The tone barely stopped short of outright saying she was tossing me scraps. Evelyn replied indifferently, “It was late after the dinner last night. There weren’t any roses left. This will do. Anyway, he doesn’t know flowers—he shouldn’t care.” The best for Damian, and whatever’s left for me. The difference between love and indifference couldn’t be clearer. Why did she assume I wouldn’t care? She held the flowers out to me, but I didn’t reach for them. Evelyn’s brows furrowed again. “Don’t you like flowers anymore? I picked these especially for you.” “No thanks,” I said flatly. “Give them to someone else.” “You’re being ridiculous again,” she shot back. “I’m not. I mean it. I have things to do, so I’ll leave you all to it.” I opened the suite door and walked out without looking back. I hadn’t taken more than a few steps before the whispers started behind me. “Logan’s being so dramatic.” “Damian and Evelyn’s video is blowing up online. It’s brought in tons of sponsors for the studio—why is he so hung up on this?” “Exactly.” Evelyn, finally losing her patience, tossed the flowers aside. “Forget him. Let him sulk.” Every harsh word cut into me like a blade. I paused mid-step, a wave of sadness washing over me. To her, I was utterly insignificant.

Back at the dorm, I made a cup of instant noodles and sat down at my setup to train. I played until my eyes stung, finally shutting down the computer. That’s when my phone buzzed with a notification. Damian had posted on Facebook: “You’re amazing. Making me hangover soup after I had too much to drink.” The attached photo showed Evelyn in the kitchen, wearing an apron and illuminated by warm lighting. It was a cozy, intimate scene. So, Evelyn was capable of cooking for someone. Just not for me. I laughed bitterly and commented: “Your girlfriend is so thoughtful. Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness.” Then I blocked both Damian and Evelyn. Minutes later, an unknown number called. Evelyn’s voice came through the line. “Logan, what was that comment supposed to mean?” “Do you have to make everyone miserable to feel satisfied? Apologize to Damian right now, or don’t bother trying to see me this week!” I chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. I won’t be bothering you again.” I hung up and didn’t answer when she called back. The days that followed were quiet. I immersed myself in training and started getting used to life without her. That was, until the team meeting. Evelyn appeared at the doorway, dressed in a white dress that contrasted sharply with her long black hair. She looked stunning, just like the first time we met—though even then, she’d come to the base looking for Damian. I let out a low laugh and walked past her into the meeting room without a word. She hesitated, then followed me inside. “Logan, how long do you plan to keep this up?” she asked, irritation creeping into her voice. “You’ve been avoiding me for days, and you blocked me. What do you want?” Damian and the other teammates glanced over, clearly intrigued. I met their stares briefly before answering, “Evelyn, we’ve broken up.” She stared at me in disbelief. “You’re serious? Just because fans are shipping me and Damian?” Her tone carried a note of blame. “When did you become so unreasonable, Logan?” “You know that’s just a joke. Damian and I are just friends. Can you stop misinterpreting things?” Damian’s expression shifted into something more complicated, tinged with jealousy. But I didn’t care anymore. I smiled faintly. “You’ll never understand the real problem.” “Then tell me! What’s the issue? Are you really going to let your pettiness ruin this?” Evelyn demanded, staring me down. I didn’t reply. As the team leader and others entered, I took a seat and waited for the meeting to begin. Evelyn looked like she wanted to argue further but held back, choosing to wait until after the meeting.

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My wife bought luxury cars and a penthouse for her lover— but refused to pay the ten thousand dollars that could have saved our daughter’s life. The night our little girl died, my wife sent only one text: “You’re overreacting. He and I are just traveling.” So I placed my wedding ring inside my daughter’s urn. From that day on, I was no longer her husband. As a CEO, my wife is incredibly wealthy, yet she’s always worried I’m after her inheritance. She keeps a tight rein on our finances, allowing my daughter and me just $200 a month for spending money. However, when her first love came back to the country, she didn’t hesitate to shower him with a luxury car and a mansion, worth millions, to welcome him. Later, when my daughter had a sudden heart attack, the only thing that could save her was a $10,000 surgery. Instead, I was accused of being ambitious and was thrown out of the company by security. I watched as my daughter passed away in the operating room, while my wife boarded a plane for a joyful world tour with her first love. After I finished arranging my daughter’s funeral, my wife returned from her trip, as indifferent as ever. She said: “Hey, didn’t you and our daughter always want to go to the amusement park? I’ll take you next week.” But she didn’t know that the moment our daughter died on that operating table, I was ready to end our marriage. I was packing up my daughter’s belongings when my wife, Evelyn, who had just returned from her world tour, casually walked back into our home. “Luke, can you massage my shoulders? The trip really wore me out.” Hearing this, I, who once cherished her dearly, remained silent and continued packing. Seeing I ignored her, Evelyn frowned, then suddenly laughed as if something amusing had crossed her mind. “Are you still jealous about Damian and I traveling together?” Damian was her childhood friend. Evelyn had left our daughter, who was gravely ill, to travel the world with this friend, letting our daughter die on a cold operating table. Thinking about my daughter’s eyes slowly losing their warmth felt like a dagger through my heart. Before I could speak, Damian walked in, feigning innocence: “Oh, Luke, it’s all my fault for dragging Evelyn on the trip.” “But don’t worry, it was just a trip, nothing more.” He spoke lightly, yet they wore matching outfits and rings, looking like a genuine couple in public. Meanwhile, the wedding ring Evelyn and I shared had long been discarded by her. Seeing I still wouldn’t speak, Evelyn sighed, looking helpless. “Alright, don’t be mad. I’ll send an extra $500 this month for Anna to get something nice.” “Just remember, I’m doing this for you. No need to thank me.” But looking at the transaction on my phone, I felt nothing but mockery. She spent millions on a world tour with Damian, buying luxury brands, where a single bag costs thousands. Yet now, giving me $500 felt as if she was doing me a huge favor. Damian stood by, trying to suppress his laughter, sarcastically saying: “Luke, $500 is quite a bit. You should thank Evelyn.” “Let me tell you, kids should be raised modestly, so they won’t be materialistic when they grow up!” As absurd as it was, Evelyn believed it. To prevent our daughter from being materialistic, she strictly controlled our expenses, giving only $200 monthly. I used to argue because I wanted a better life for our daughter, but now she’s gone. Arguing means nothing. With this thought, I returned the money and said calmly: “No need, I don’t want it.” Evelyn’s smile froze, then she helplessly said: “Luke, I already apologized. What more do you want?” Before I could speak, Damian’s mocking voice came from the side, “I think he just thinks $500 is too little, right?” “Luke, not to be harsh, but with your greedy attitude, how can you be a good example for Anna?” He lectured me condescendingly. Hearing this, Evelyn also looked at me with disappointment. “Luke, we’ve been married a few years, and you’re already this greedy?” “In a few more years, are you planning to take over the shares and inheritance from Evelyn’s family?” Listening to Evelyn’s accusation, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. After all this time, this is how she sees me. But my silence, to her, seemed like guilt. The next moment, Evelyn spoke with irritation: “Looks like Damian was right, you’re not a fit father.” “I’m doing this to teach our daughter resilience.” “If you keep this up, and Anna turns out materialistic and greedy like you, can we still call this a family?” Looking at her seriousness, I found it ironic. Her so-called resilience was scolding me for asking for a little extra for groceries, accusing me of eyeing her inheritance. Even when our daughter scored high and wanted a small cake, she’d point at her, scolding: “So materialistic at a young age, you’ll grow up to be a gold-digger!” “Your dad will spoil you rotten someday!” Thinking of this, I was about to tell her about our daughter. “Evelyn, our daughter is already…” But before I could finish, Damian suddenly cried out in pain at the door. The next moment, Evelyn didn’t even bother continuing to lecture me, she rushed to Damian’s side. “Damian, what happened?” Damian feigned nonchalance, waving it off: “Evelyn, I’m fine. Maybe the long flight triggered my old back pain.” “I’m okay, don’t let me delay your time with family.” Hearing this, Evelyn shook her head. “Your health comes first. I’ll take you to the hospital now.” Just before leaving, Evelyn seemed to remember something, turned to me, and sighed seriously. “Luke, let’s both calm down first.” “When I get back, we can discuss taking our daughter out next week.” But she didn’t know our daughter was gone, and I had no intention of waiting for her anymore. 2. After gathering my thoughts, I took my resignation letter and went straight to the company to resign. On the way, colleagues pointed and whispered. “Isn’t that Luke? How can he still show his face here?” “Yeah, asking CEO Evelyn for $10,000 last month and got thrown out by security.” “With his salary, how many years would he need to earn $10,000?” “Ignore this clown, let’s go…” Hearing these, I laughed at myself. For years, Evelyn never announced our relationship, even arranged for me to be just a regular employee to avoid suspicion. I’ve worked hard, even drank myself sick to secure big deals for the company. All I wanted was to become better, to make her acknowledge me and our daughter. But my promotion applications were repeatedly rejected by her. I sought her out for an explanation. She smiled, clinging to my arm, sweetly said: “Luke, this is all to train you, so you can be a better husband and father!” “Besides, I earn enough for us. Do you think I can’t support you and our daughter, or are you trying to climb into the company’s upper ranks to seize power?” I was left speechless, thinking she had her reasons. But on the day Damian returned, she sent dozens of luxury cars to the airport, the cannon salute was deafening. That night, Damian parachuted into the company, appointed as Vice President. I realized then, love or lack thereof, the difference was obvious. Given this, there’s no need to continue this ridiculous marriage. I submitted my resignation. Stepping out of the company, I expected to feel heavy-hearted, but I only felt relief. For years, like a bird with clipped wings, I’ve been trapped in a cage, oppressed. Now, I see freedom ahead. I visited my daughter’s grave, placed her favorite toys by her small tombstone. Stayed with her until nightfall, then dragged my tired body home. To my surprise, opening the door, Evelyn was unexpectedly home waiting. “Do you know what time it is? I thought you’d learned to stay out all night.” On the couch, Evelyn frowned, arms crossed, displeased. Her expression was a signal for me to comfort her. But I found it odd that while Damian’s minor injuries would keep her by his side, she wasn’t with him at the hospital today. Not my concern, so I didn’t ask. I calmly asked: “What’s up?” My cold tone made Evelyn’s face stiffen. No matter what happened before, I always greeted her with a smile. But since she returned from her trip, I’ve been different. No arguments, no fuss, even my gaze lost warmth. This made her uneasy, quickly saying: “Are you still mad about me going with Damian? I told you, it was just to relax.” “Didn’t our daughter always say she wanted to go to the beach? Once I’m less busy, I’ll take you and her, okay?” “Is something the matter?” Evelyn’s expression shifted, caught off guard by the icy tone. In the past, no matter what happened, I always greeted her with a smile. But ever since she returned from her trip, I’ve changed. I no longer argue or make a fuss, and even my gaze towards her has grown cold. This unsettled her, prompting her to say hurriedly, “Are you still upset about me going out with Damian? I told you, it was just a break to clear my mind.” “Our daughter has always wanted to go to the beach, right? Once things settle down, I’ll take you both. How about that?” Her attempt at reconciliation felt more like a condescending gesture. To her, my daughter and I were like pets—amusing when she was in a good mood, and pushed aside when she wasn’t. Suddenly, Evelyn seemed to remember something and looked at me curiously. “Wait, where’s our daughter? I haven’t seen her since I got back.” “Did you send her to your mom?” I stared at her in disbelief. She had been back for two days and was only now asking about our daughter? It was clear she didn’t truly care about our daughter or this family. Before I could respond, Damian emerged from the bathroom wearing my bathrobe. 3. Seeing me, Damian was unfazed and acted as if he owned the place, warmly inviting me in: “Luke, come on in, make yourself comfortable.” I was momentarily speechless, looking questioningly at Evelyn on the sofa. “Why is he here?” Sensing my expression, Evelyn awkwardly explained, “Damian hasn’t been well, so I brought him here to look after him. Don’t overthink it.” I suddenly understood. No wonder Evelyn was home tonight—it was all for Damian. She seemed relieved, adding, “It’s a good thing you sent our daughter to your mom’s beforehand. Otherwise, it would’ve been inconvenient with so many people here.” I found it ironic. She hadn’t even noticed our daughter’s absence, her mind solely occupied with Damian. Damian feigned remorse, saying, “It’s all my fault for disrupting your married life, Luke. I’m just here temporarily. You aren’t upset, right?” But his eyes were filled with smugness and a challenge. Evelyn, anxious to avoid conflict, quickly interjected, “Luke, don’t worry. Damian and I agreed he’d sleep on the sofa. He won’t disturb us.” But the next moment, I saw pity in her eyes for him. How could she bear to let Damian sleep on a cold sofa? If I hadn’t come back suddenly, she would have cradled him in her arms. Thinking of this, I said, “Since his back is bad, he shouldn’t sleep on the sofa. He should sleep in the master bedroom.” Damian’s face lit up with delight at my words. “Really? Luke, you’re so generous.” Evelyn also breathed a sigh of relief. “Luke, I’m glad you see it this way. I was worried you’d be jealous of Damian and make a scene.” She thought I had matured and wouldn’t argue over such trivial matters. I was leaving anyway, so why should it matter to me where he stays? As Evelyn joyfully led Damian into the master bedroom, I quietly packed my bags, ready to stay at a hotel. But as I reached the door, Evelyn emerged from the bedroom and stopped me. “Luke, it’s late. Where are you going?” I smiled faintly. “To give you and Damian some space, of course.” Upon hearing this, Evelyn’s expression turned grim, and she gritted her teeth. “What do you mean by that, Luke?” “I already explained. It’s because of Damian’s back pain that I brought him here temporarily. You’re the one who agreed to let him stay in the master bedroom. What are you doing now?” “Don’t you have any sympathy?” Her words were endless, but I found them amusing. I used to argue with her about Damian, and she’d call me immature and unreasonable. Now that I was mature and didn’t argue, she was unhappy again. Damian pretended to sob. “I knew Luke was still mad at me. It’s all my fault. I should just suffer on the street.” His poor acting fooled Evelyn, who then shielded Damian. “Damian, you’re staying here today. I’d like to see who dares to kick you out!” Crossing her arms, she coldly said to me: “You’ve grown bold. Go ahead, leave if you dare!” She assumed I loved her too much to really leave. But from the moment our daughter died, my love for her vanished. I would never forgive her. I chuckled coldly, grabbed my suitcase, and left. Evelyn stared at my back in disbelief, unable to comprehend. It wasn’t until I got in the elevator that I heard her shout, “Go on! If you leave, don’t come back!” But she didn’t realize I truly wouldn’t return. She had lost me forever. At the hotel, I slept peacefully. The next morning, I woke up to dozens of missed calls—all from Evelyn. The last call was half an hour ago. I was surprised she hadn’t slept all night. She used to tell me to be more tolerant and not argue with Damian. When did she become so petty? When I opened the door, Evelyn sat tiredly in a chair. Seeing me, her eyes immediately welled up. “Just because I let Damian stay with us, you’re leaving and quitting your job?”

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Sloane said she couldn’t come to dinner with me. But an hour later, she walked into the same restaurant, standing right beside him. She tried to sit next to me like nothing was wrong. Aiden gave me a quiet, satisfied smile, as if he’d already won. Sloane kept sending excuses and half-apologies, expecting me to melt the way I always did. But I didn’t. That night, I finally stopped being predictable— and decided to walk away from her for good. I sat at the table, watching the food grow cold, much like my heart. Today was my birthday, but it was also the birthday of Aiden, Sloane’s childhood friend. I opened Aiden’s Instagram and saw a new post. “Grateful to have you by my side every birthday. Let’s keep celebrating together for years to come!” The photo showed two hands making a heart shape in front of a cake. One of them was Sloane’s, wearing the necklace I had given her. I liked the post, then put down my phone and dumped all of Sloane’s favorite dishes I had prepared into the trash. I went out to a restaurant to order my own favorites and celebrate my birthday alone. From now on, I would make each of my birthdays special – for myself. Halfway through my meal, Sloane called. Her voice held a hint of anxiety: “Grant, did you see Aiden’s Instagram post?” “I did.” “I’ll be back after celebrating with him. I’ll spend next year’s birthday with you, okay? Don’t be upset!” In the past, I would have thrown a fit, but not anymore. I simply replied, “Okay.” The next morning, around 7 AM, I was woken up by my phone ringing. It rang three times before cutting off. I checked – it was Sloane. She used to be too lazy to use her key, so she’d always call me to let her in, ringing three times before hanging up. No matter what I was doing, I would rush to open the door for her. Today, I didn’t. I tossed my phone aside and went back to sleep. The spare key was under the shoe rack by the door. She knew that. I had been up until 3 AM packing, and my head was still fuzzy. My phone rang a few more times, but I couldn’t be bothered to look. Some time later, I vaguely heard someone unlocking the door and coming in. The door slammed against the wall loudly, followed by my bedroom door being flung open and Sloane’s angry voice. “Grant, why didn’t you open the door for me? I called several times! You know I hate using keys!” I opened my eyes and looked at her impassively. “Too tired. Didn’t hear it.” Sloane opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said, “I’m hungry. Get up and make me a sandwich. I didn’t sleep all night, and I need to catch up on some rest after I eat.” In the past, I would have jumped up to make her breakfast. But now, I just said flatly, “I’m tired too. Why don’t you go downstairs and buy something?” Sloane was furious but tried to control herself. “Are you still mad about me not being here for your birthday yesterday?” “No, you’re overthinking it.” Sloane didn’t believe me. She continued, “Aiden is like a brother to me. His parents passed away when he was young. If I don’t celebrate his birthday with him, who will? Don’t be so petty, or I’ll really get angry!” “You’re right. You should celebrate with him. I’m not upset.” I got up to go to the bathroom. Sloane grabbed my hand and reluctantly pulled out a red string bracelet from her pocket. “Here, don’t be mad. This is your birthday gift. See? I remembered.” Looking at the cheap red string with its dangling metal charm, which seemed so carelessly chosen, and thinking of the expensive watch Aiden had shown off on Instagram, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. I had thought Sloane’s recent frugality was to save up for my birthday gift. Apparently, I had been deluding myself. I shook my wrist, showing the watch my mom had sent me a few days ago. “Thanks, but I already have a watch. It’s not convenient to wear this. You keep it.” Sloane snapped, “You say you’re not angry, but you used to be happy with whatever I gave you. Are you getting picky now?” Sloane’s salary wasn’t high. Her birthday gifts to me were always cheap, costing a few dollars or tens of dollars at most. Sometimes she even forgot to give me anything. But I never minded. For her birthdays, I always prepared thoughtful gifts. Just a week ago, for her birthday, I had given her a gold necklace. I was tired. I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. I took the red string and put it in my pocket. “Thank you.” I changed my clothes and opened the door. Sloane called out anxiously, “Where are you going?” “To play basketball with friends.” Since getting together with Sloane, all my free time belonged to her. I accompanied her everywhere, took care of her, and had no time left for myself. That wouldn’t be the case anymore. I needed to live for myself now.

After an exhilarating game with my friends, we sat on the benches by the court, drinking water. My friends joked, “We thought you’d forgotten about us since you got a girlfriend. We were about to stop inviting you out.” I apologized and promised, “I’m sorry, guys. It won’t happen again. Count me in for any future plans.” “That’s more like it! Come on, let’s go to the internet cafe and play some games.” When I was with Sloane, I couldn’t fit into her Instagram world, but I had slowly distanced myself from my own friends for her sake. I revolved my life around her, prioritizing her above all else. Looking back, I realized how foolish I had been. When I got home, it was almost midnight. I opened the bedroom door to find Sloane sitting on the bed. She frowned and said, “Grant, why are you back so late? I had to order takeout for lunch and dinner. It was awful.” I opened the closet to get some clean clothes. “I ate at restaurants today too. The food was pretty good, not worse than home-cooked meals.” Sloane stared at me in surprise. “You used to say you’d cook for me every day and that I shouldn’t eat takeout because it’s unhygienic!” “I was wrong. Living in this society, if you can’t cook, you have to get used to takeout food.” A flash of anger crossed Sloane’s eyes. “You say you’re not angry, but you’ve been out all day without a single call or message, and you didn’t come home to cook for me!” I replied calmly, “I’m not angry. I was just hanging out with friends. My phone died, so I couldn’t call.” Seeing my attitude, Sloane suddenly threw off the covers and got out of bed angrily. She grabbed me as I was about to leave, her voice shrill. “Can’t you be more understanding? I’ve told you we’re just like siblings! What are you still upset about? Grant, my patience has limits!” I shook off her hand. “I’m really not upset. I’m tired. I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” With that, I took my clothes and went to the bathroom to shower, ignoring Sloane’s calls from inside the bedroom. That night, I slept soundly for the first time in a long while. Sloane was a restless sleeper, kicking off the covers several times a night. When we slept together, I never got a full night’s rest, having to get up multiple times to cover her. Early the next morning, Sloane sat in the living room with her arms crossed, her face dark with anger. I knew she was waiting for me to apologize first and make her happy. In the past, whenever she was unhappy, I would beg for her forgiveness, even if I didn’t think I had done anything wrong. Then she would list a bunch of conditions, and only after I had fulfilled them all would she reluctantly forgive me. This had been the pattern for years, and I was tired of it. I ignored her, got ready, and left. I had important things to do today.

I went to the office to submit my resignation letter. My manager was surprised and tried to persuade me to stay, but I insisted on leaving. I had originally taken this job to be close to Sloane, to take care of her. But now, that was no longer necessary. Last night, I had a video call with my parents, telling them I was planning to quit my job and return home. I saw the tears of joy in my mom’s eyes. My dad’s health hasn’t been good lately, and he’s been struggling to run the small supermarket by himself. When I say “home,” it’s not some remote village, but a coastal city. Sloane had always refused to go back with me, saying she wasn’t used to the food there. So I left my parents to find work here with her. That evening, I met up with my friends for dinner and told them the news. They all agreed that going back was the right decision, as my parents’ health was more important. After a few drinks, someone suddenly asked, “What about Sloane? Is she willing to go back with you now?” I was silent for a moment, then smiled bitterly. “No, we’ll probably break up.” I used to think I could build a home here with Sloane, and then bring my parents over later. But now that home was gone, and I was returning to the one with my parents – the one that would never abandon me. When I got back home, I saw Sloane wearing a white dress, her black hair flowing loose, face perfectly made up, video chatting with Aiden on her phone. Aiden’s voice came through the speaker: “Snow, you look absolutely gorgeous. Even in a simple white dress, you look like a fairy!” Sloane giggled, covering her face coyly. “Really? You’re still such a sweet talker.” I stood there silently. This “simple” white dress had cost me a month’s salary when I bought it for her. Sloane turned around, still smiling, but her face fell when she saw me. She quickly told Aiden, “I have to go now. I’ll be there soon. Have a snack while you wait.” Sloane could be all smiles and care for Aiden, but she couldn’t even spare a smile for me. She looked at me with disgust, then walked past me to put on her shoes and leave. She was starting her cold treatment again. In the years we’ve been together, she often gave me the silent treatment over issues related to Aiden. Each time, I would be anxious, trying everything to please her. This time, I wasn’t nervous. I just took the groceries I had bought and went to the kitchen to make myself a late-night snack. I had been drinking with my friends earlier and hadn’t eaten much, so I was a bit hungry now. Over the next few days, I was busy handing over my work and packing my belongings. My things in the house were gradually disappearing, but Sloane didn’t notice.

Today, Sloane went out again to meet Aiden. I sat at the dining table, scrolling through my phone while eating. Aiden had posted on Instagram: “Whenever I feel lonely, you’re always there for me. I’m so grateful!” The photo showed Sloane and Aiden with their heads together, making peace signs at the camera. Sloane’s girlfriends were all commenting, admiring their relationship. They had always thought Sloane should be with Aiden, and that I was the third wheel interfering in their relationship. Looking at that Instagram post, I suddenly felt that Sloane’s friends weren’t wrong – they did look more like a couple. In the past, after enduring silently for a long time, I would gently remind Sloane to keep some distance from Aiden to avoid misunderstandings. Her friends would then mock me for being too controlling, saying I was suffocating Sloane and not giving her any freedom to have friends. Sloane never defended me. Instead, she joined them in criticizing me, telling me not to restrict her and to give her more freedom. Sloane had commented: “You’re always there for me too!” I exited Instagram without a ripple in my heart and got up to clear the table. Thunder rumbled outside. It was about to rain. I went to the balcony to bring in the laundry, and large raindrops began hitting the windows. In the past, whenever it rained, I would anxiously call Sloane to ask where she was and rush out with an umbrella to pick her up, afraid she might get even slightly wet. She and her friends would then laugh at me for being like an old woman, worrying too much and ruining their fun. I showered early and lay in bed scrolling through short videos, eventually falling asleep without realizing it. The sound of Sloane forcefully pushing open my bedroom door woke me up. Seeing that I was sleeping, she angrily questioned me. “Grant, it’s pouring outside, and your girlfriend isn’t home yet. Aren’t you worried at all? If it were my friends’ boyfriends, they’d be calling non-stop asking where they are and rushing out with umbrellas to pick them up! What about you?!”

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Three months before my wedding, my fiancée posted a baby bump photo on her Ins. It was her with my adopted brother. The caption read: [Legally welcoming our little one!] My adopted brother, Noah, commented with a celebratory emoji. My mom liked it. [Once the baby is born, I’ll take care of them. You two can enjoy your time together.] I couldn’t help but hit reply with a question mark. The next second, Chloe’s furious texts flooded my phone. “He’s just stepping up as the father figure for a bit, to give the baby a stable start. Once the baby is here, things will go back to normal between us, and I’ll be yours again.” “Don’t be so petty. My mom also said we should wait until your career is stable before getting legally married—having the wedding first, then doing the paperwork later, isn’t that good enough?” I calmly hummed in response, then deleted every single post related to Chloe on my Ins. I updated my status: “Need a bride. Any takers?” Chloe Davis was the first to reply. [Leo Hayes, are you insane? I’m just temporarily with Noah, do you really have to make this public knowledge?] [Who are you posting this for? I’m warning you, don’t make things difficult for Noah!] My adopted brother, Noah Hayes, quickly followed: [Chloe just wants to give the baby a legal identity. I won’t steal her from you. When you two eventually marry, my child can even call you Dad.] My mom, Brenda Hayes, scolded me for being ungrateful: [You get a child without all the hard work. Noah is helping you so much; you should be thankful.] Below, a flurry of Chloe’s friends joined in the mockery: [They’re practically brothers anyway, right? Who cares who she marries? Noah can have her on weekdays, and you get the weekends!] Everyone was joking, laughing. I stared at the screen for a long time, my eyes burning. Tears eventually blurred my vision, hitting the phone screen. They were the ones who messed up, yet they were acting so righteous, pointing fingers at me. It was ridiculous. These people weren’t worth my tears. I wiped the wetness from my face with a harsh gesture. Amidst the chaotic comments, one stood out: Mia Sterling asked, “Is the bride spot still open?” Mia was my childhood friend. After college, I stayed local, while she went abroad for her master’s. Once Chloe and I started dating, Mia had intentionally kept her distance. We hadn’t seen each other in years. While I was still reeling, her call came through. “Leo, I’ve always liked you.” “You know how much I despise your adopted brother; I would never get involved with him. All these years, I’ve focused on my career, my relationship history is clean, and I have no messy social connections.” As soon as she finished speaking, a document popped up on my phone—it was an agreement to transfer all her assets. “This is all my sincerity,” her voice was a little shaky. “Would you consider me?” A lump formed in my throat. I suddenly remembered a time in elementary school when our teacher gave her two of her favorite chocolates as a reward. She was so tempted, swallowing secretly, but she didn’t keep a single one. She put both into my pocket. She’d always been like that, pouring her heart out, giving me her best. I took a deep breath. “I will.” Love had left me scarred. I’d planned to live alone. But Grandma’s dying wish was to see me have my own family, with someone who genuinely loved me. Chloe didn’t deserve that, but Mia would be the best choice. Her voice trembled with surprise. “I’ll finish up work as fast as I can. I’ll be back in two weeks to marry you.” “Leo, you won’t change your mind this time, right?” The vulnerability in her tone reminded me of our childhood promise—I’d once laughed and said I’d be her groom when we grew up. “No,” I whispered. “Mia, let’s pinky swear.”

After hanging up, my mom, Brenda, pushed open my bedroom door. “Where are those sapphire cufflinks your dad left you before he passed?” I remained silent, not answering. Mom frowned, annoyed. “What’s with that attitude? Noah just thinks they’re exquisite and wants to borrow them for his formal wear. Hand them over. Don’t be so petty!” My adopted brother, Noah, clung to Mom’s arm, looking forlorn. “Never mind, Mom. Leo never saw me as a real brother. If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t have to. I won’t force him.” “He dares not to recognize you! Those cufflinks belonged to my husband, they’re your father’s. Today, I’m making the decision to give them to you.” Mom hugged Noah, glaring at me sternly. “If you don’t hand them over now, don’t blame me for having someone search your room.” I stared at her, stunned, then curved my lips into a smile that was uglier than a cry. The gentle, understanding mother I remembered had long become unrecognizable. But, I was about to leave this place forever. Unwilling to engage in another meaningless argument, I silently retrieved the velvet box containing the cufflinks from the back of my drawer and handed it over. Mom nodded, satisfied. “That’s right. Noah is your brother; you should naturally take care of him more.” After she left, Noah fastened the cufflinks onto his shirt right in front of me, raising an eyebrow. “Bro, don’t blame Mom for being biased. Honestly, these cufflinks look better on me.” “Just like Chloe is a better fit for me as a girlfriend.” “What’s mine, no one can ever take away.” I watched Noah’s smug expression, saying nothing. With people like him, the more you engage, the more they cling. I grabbed my backpack and walked straight to the stairs, ignoring him completely. “Ah! Why did you push me… ” Noah suddenly darted in front of me, pretending I’d shoved him, stumbling backward. Though I loathed him, I instinctively reached out to grab him—twenty-some steps was no small fall. “Leo, don’t you dare lay a hand on him!” Chloe rushed up, violently swatting away my hand reaching for Noah. My hand slammed hard against the metal railing with a dull thud, instantly swelling and bruising. The sharp pain made me break out in a cold sweat. “Chloe, good thing you came…” Noah cowered in Chloe’s arms, trembling with teary eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m here.” Chloe gently patted his back, then shot me a cold glare. “You know he’s fragile, yet you’d be so cruel?” I looked down at my rapidly swelling hand, then back at Noah, carefully shielded by Chloe. The irony felt like ice water splashed on my face. This woman, who had sworn to love me forever and was supposed to marry me in three months, how had she become so utterly unrecognizable?

After comforting Noah, Chloe turned to me, her expression grim. “I know you’re upset that I hid my marriage and pregnancy with him from you. You can vent your anger at me, since I didn’t tell you upfront.” “But you can’t hurt Noah. He’s already weak and pitiful enough.” “He only asked for a chance to be a father, is that so wrong? Why should he suffer your anger?” She pointed a finger at me. “You will apologize to Noah today!” I struggled to control my trembling body, rasping, “What did I do wrong? What exactly did I do wrong?” Chloe stared at my bloodshot eyes, momentarily stunned. “It’s okay, Chloe,” Noah interjected, tugging her sleeve, his voice filled with feigned sobs. “Even though I almost fell down the stairs… I don’t blame Leo. He doesn’t have to apologize.” “You and Leo are still getting married. I don’t want you fighting because of me.” Chloe sighed, her voice laced with pity. “Noah, your thoughtfulness sometimes breaks my heart.” Her gaze hardened as she looked at me again. “Ultimately, you’re just jealous of Noah, can’t stand to see him doing better than you.” “Today, for his sake, I’ll let the apology slide.” “But if you ever dare to harm him again, I will make you pay.” She lifted Noah into her arms, and as she left, she threw a remark filled with disappointment at me: “You’re nothing compared to Noah.” The silent living room was empty except for me. I stared blankly at the withered leaves falling outside the window, finally unable to stop myself from crouching down, burying my face in my hands. This was the last time I’d cry for Chloe. That afternoon, Chloe updated her Ins. It was a nine-picture grid, showing off various meticulously decorated corners of what she called a bridal home. The caption read: “Every room, every piece of furniture, every decoration here was chosen and arranged by me, all to give my baby a warm and happy home.” The comments section quickly filled with well wishes. “Congrats, Chloe, on your impending bundle of joy!” “So, Chloe and Leo are having a shotgun wedding! Congrats, congrats!” “Leo, you’re so lucky to have such a wonderful partner like Chloe!” “I’ll cancel a hundred-million-dollar deal if I have to, but I won’t miss the wedding in three months!” Just as the blessings poured in, Noah suddenly commented to clarify: “Everyone, please don’t misunderstand. This isn’t Chloe’s bridal home, this is my house.” The comments section fell into an awkward silence. I broke the deadlock, replying: “Three’s a crowd. I’m out. Wishing you two happiness.” After sending that, I didn’t bother with the reactions. I just deleted Chloe and Noah from my friends list. Minutes later, Chloe’s call came in. “Leo, are you done causing trouble?” My tone was calm. “I’m not causing trouble.” She exploded. “What you wrote on my Ins was practically slandering Noah! Are you only happy if you brand him as the third wheel? If you keep this up, our engagement is off!” Listening to her cold accusations, my heart was like stagnant water, completely still. “Chloe, why do you think I’d still want something that’s been used by someone else?”

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When Tristan publicly chose another girl, people waited for me to break. But I’d already seen the future— the version where loving him killed me. So I went to the one man who mourned me for a lifetime. Silas Yates. Cold voice, steady hands, eyes burning when he thought I couldn’t see. Tonight, I won’t be the girl chasing Tristan. I’ll be the girl hiding in Silas’s bed when Tristan walks in. The day Tristan Reed confessed to the pretty transfer student, everyone thought I would break down and rush over to make a scene. But I didn’t show up at all, even after the confession was over. Tristan had no idea that at that moment, I was sitting on his roommate’s bed, wearing his roommate’s hoodie, asking in frustration: “I got your bed all wet. How are you going to sleep tonight?” Silas Yates averted his gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he handed me a towel. “Go dry your hair. I’ll change the sheets before you sleep.” The day Tristan Reed confessed to the pretty transfer student, everyone thought I would break down and rush over to make a scene. But I didn’t show up at all, even after the confession was over. Tristan had no idea that at that moment, I was sitting on his roommate’s bed, wearing his roommate’s hoodie, asking in frustration: “I got your bed all wet. How are you going to sleep tonight?” Silas Yates averted his gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he handed me a towel. “Go dry your hair. I’ll change the sheets before you sleep.” Tristan was going to confess to that pretty transfer student. He had asked everyone to keep it a secret from me. But he didn’t know that some gossips couldn’t hold it in and had already told me. Everyone knew I had a crush on Tristan and dreamed of marrying him someday. This time, Tristan seemed to have fallen head over heels for that girl. People thought I would throw a fit, cry and make a huge scene. Everyone loves to watch this kind of drama unfold between men and women. They were all waiting for me to lose it and rush over to cause chaos. But unfortunately, even after Tristan successfully confessed, I still hadn’t shown up. The crowd of onlookers, three layers deep, started to lose interest. Even Tristan’s face didn’t show much joy. He put his arm around his new girlfriend and took out his phone. There were no calls or messages. Tristan frowned slightly. Then he turned to the crowd and said, “I’m treating everyone tonight. You’re all invited.” The onlooking classmates all cheered. I had been standing behind some trees the whole time and only then walked out. Someone with sharp eyes spotted me and immediately shouted, “It’s Mia! Mia’s here!” “I knew it. How could Mia possibly stay away?” Tristan suddenly looked up. The moment he saw me, the corners of his lips curved up almost imperceptibly. I ignored all the people waiting to see some drama. I walked straight up to Tristan. “Mia.” Tristan held his new girlfriend tighter. He looked at me and said flatly, “You can’t force feelings.” “We’ve known each other for over ten years. I don’t want to say anything too harsh and hurt our old friendship.” “From now on, I’ll still treat you like a sister.” “If you need anything, you can still come to me.” Then he lowered his voice, “With so many people watching, don’t make a scene. Go home.” “Tristan,” I interrupted him and slowly took a step forward. He frowned again, “Mia, be good.” I smiled and handed him the bracelet I had just taken off my wrist. “I came to return this to you.” Seeing the bracelet, Tristan’s face suddenly darkened. “Mia, what game are you playing now?” “Take the bracelet back. I won’t bother you anymore after this.” Tristan stared at me, his voice growing colder, “I don’t care about this little bit of money.” “If you don’t want it, just throw it away.” As soon as he finished speaking, I turned and threw the bracelet into a nearby trash can. “You can throw away all the other things I gave you before too.” With that, I left without looking at him again. By the time I reached the riverside, it was raining heavily. Standing in the rain with an umbrella, I thought about the dreams I had in the past few days. In the dream, because of Tristan confessing to Olivia, I cried and made a scene. To force him to break up, I jumped into the river that night. But what was the result? I almost lost my life. Tristan only stayed at the hospital for five minutes before leaving resolutely. The White family who had fostered me thought I was embarrassing them by attempting suicide. And because of Tristan’s attitude, they felt I was no longer of any use to them. They forced me to drop out of school and sent me back to my birth parents, who were involved in all kinds of vices. In the end, my life spiraled downward, and I died miserably in a foreign country. After I died, the person who collected my incomplete remains turned out to be the one I had always feared and kept at a distance. And Tristan, newlywed and in high spirits, never showed up. These days, the events in my dreams came true one by one. If it weren’t for these dreams, I would have been frantically calling Tristan by now. Then I would have threatened to kill myself and jumped into the river. I’m very grateful for this dream. It made me feel like I was reborn. I can change my predetermined tragic fate bit by bit. The third time I dialed that number, it was finally answered. I clutched the phone tightly and held it gently to my ear. The name Silas Yates lingered on my tongue several times before I finally uttered it slowly. The heavy rain cut off all the noise in the world. Only Silas’s voice, slightly lazy, sounded deeply, “Mia?” “Silas, it’s raining heavily.” “I’m by the river and can’t get back. Can you come pick me up?” The other end of the phone was silent for a few seconds. I nervously gripped the umbrella handle, my palm clammy with sweat. In the dream, when Silas was collecting my remains, he seemed to cry. His tears fell one by one on my decaying flesh and bones. Even in the dream, I could feel that burning sensation. Later, he carried a small bottle of my ashes with him for a lifetime. And he was lonely for a lifetime. I couldn’t help but tear up and choked back a sob. “Why are you crying?” Silas’s voice suddenly came through. It was still that indifferent tone, even with a hint of impatience. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t come.” “Then when will you be here?” “Wait. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” “Okay, I’ll wait for you, Silas.” He didn’t say anything else, and the call ended. Fifteen minutes later, I gave my umbrella to a mother and child seeking shelter from the rain. So when Silas arrived, I was already soaked from head to toe. When he got out of the car, his thin lips were tightly pressed together, his face as cold as if it contained frost and snow. I brushed my wet bangs aside and looked up at him with a bright smile, “Silas, you’re really punctual.” “Mia, you might as well die of stupidity.” He coldly grabbed my arm and shoved me into the car. Then he threw me a soft blanket. “Dry yourself off. Don’t get my car dirty.” He glanced at me in the rearview mirror and then skillfully turned the car around. “Oh.” I obediently wrapped myself in the blanket. Then I couldn’t help but steal glances at him as he focused on driving. When he had no expression, he always looked very cold and unapproachable. Many girls at school liked him, but no one dared to confess. He was Tristan’s roommate. I often went to Tristan’s dorm, and every time I went, Silas seemed to really dislike me. Even now, although he came to pick me up, his attitude was still cold. Just now when he shoved me into the car, he used extra force. My wrist still hurt, with a ring of red marks. It’s hard to tell that he had been secretly liking me all along. I slowly lowered my eyelashes. Everything in the dream had come true. But now, because of my changes, many things have also changed. Would Silas still like me? If he didn’t like me at all, wouldn’t I be causing him trouble by doing this? “Back to the dorm?” Silas suddenly turned his head and glanced at me. My heart suddenly skipped a beat, and I blurted out, “Yeah, back to your dorm.” Silas gripped the steering wheel and snorted, “Tristan won’t be back tonight.” “I know.”

I gripped the edge of the blanket, twisting it tighter and tighter. “I’m not looking for him.” The car suddenly braked sharply and stopped by the roadside. Silas turned to look at me, the frost in his eyes so cold it made my heart tremble. “Mia, don’t treat me as part of your game with Tristan.” “I’m not…” He stared at me for a moment, then took out his phone. “I’ll call you a cab. You go back by yourself.” “Silas…” I bit my lip hard and snatched his phone away. “Mia.” He looked at me, but there was no anger or disgust in his eyes. His eyes were just very deep, filled with countless emotions. I suddenly felt inexplicably sad. “Silas, I don’t want to go back to the dorm. They’re all laughing at me.” “I’m also afraid to go home.” “Can you… let me stay at your dorm for one night…” I hid his phone behind my back, my voice getting smaller and smaller. “Of course, if you really hate me so much and don’t want to see me… then forget it.” As soon as I finished speaking, tears also fell from my eyes at the right moment. One by one, quietly and soundlessly. Silas didn’t say another word to me. But he started the car again. The car drove towards the direction of the school and finally stopped at the foot of his dormitory building. I followed Silas into the dorm. He went to the closet and took out a clean hoodie and handed it to me, “The bathroom is over there.” He’s tall, so the hoodie was very big on me. It reached almost to my knees, like a dress. After showering, I just put on the hoodie and came out bare-legged. Silas glanced at me and then averted his gaze. I walked past Tristan’s bed and sat down on Silas’s bed. My wet long hair dripped water, quickly soaking the sheets. The shampoo and shower gel on my body were all Silas’s scent. In the small space, the same scent permeated, creating an indescribable intimacy that was quietly growing. Silas took out a pack of cigarettes, coughed lightly, “I’m going to smoke a cigarette.” He went to the balcony. I curiously looked around Silas’s bed. Light gray sheets and blankets, clean and tidy. There was a computer and books on the desk, also neat. I was about to look at the decorations on his desk when my phone suddenly rang. Tristan’s name was flashing on the screen. I didn’t answer. He called again very quickly, seemingly with no intention of stopping. I simply put the phone on silent and put it back in my bag. “Silas.” I called out towards the balcony. He quickly turned around, put out his cigarette and walked over, “What’s wrong?” I sat on the bed, having to look up to see him. Silas made eye contact with me for two seconds, then looked away. But I noticed that the back of his ears seemed to be a bit red. “I got your sheets wet. How are you going to sleep tonight?” He glanced at me, then at the wet patches on the sheets. His Adam’s apple bobbed violently before he turned to get a clean sheet from the closet. “You go dry your hair first. I’ll change the sheets before you sleep.” After saying that, he went to get clean sheets from the closet. I clutched the towel, thinking of how his whole ear had turned red earlier, and couldn’t help but smile. When I came out after drying my hair, Silas had already changed to new sheets. “You go to sleep.” “What about you?” He pulled out a chair, not even turning his head, “I’ll play some games.” “Oh.” I sat down on his bed somewhat dejectedly. Silas put on his headphones and was about to put them on when his phone suddenly rang. He looked at the screen, then turned to look at me before answering. “Tristan, what’s up?” My heart suddenly tightened, and I instinctively held my breath. “Mm, I’m in the dorm.” “You say someone saw Mia come to our dorm building?” Silas turned to look at me again, “I…” In a moment of panic, I didn’t wait for him to finish speaking. I got up and walked over, straddling his legs and hooking my arms around his neck. When Silas was about to push me away, I pressed against his ear and said, “Silas, tell him I’m not here.” Under my fingers hooked around his neck, Silas’s skin instantly burned hot. I saw the blue veins on the side of his neck tense and slightly bulge. His Adam’s apple moved up and down violently, his heart beating very fast. I looked up at him, and he looked down at me. In the depths of his eyes, desire gradually spread. “No, I’ve been in the dorm the whole time.” “She didn’t come. Yeah, you should ask someone else.” Silas hung up the phone as soon as he finished speaking. He tossed the phone aside and gripped my waist with his long fingers through the hoodie. Holding me tight, pressing me into his embrace. I clearly felt the burning volcano. My ears buzzed, and my first thought was to escape. But Silas held me even tighter, “Mia.” His voice was a bit hoarse. His hot breath fell on my ear and neck. I shrank my neck, wanting to dodge, but his kiss fell directly on my lips. “Don’t tempt me… I don’t want to touch you in a place like this.” “Silas…” I twisted my body, wanting to adjust my sitting position. The volcano seemed about to erupt, frighteningly fierce. In the gap between breaths, I finally found a chance to speak. “If you don’t want to touch me, why are you kissing me?” Silas lowered his head slightly, his forehead pressed against mine. In the tangle of breaths, he closed his eyes, seemingly trying hard to calm down. “Also, do you know how to kiss… my lips are all swollen.” “Mia.” Silas didn’t open his eyes. But his hands holding my waist slightly loosened their grip. His fingers were very long and strong. Gripping my waist through the hoodie, making me both in pain and torment. “Silas…” I couldn’t help but frown, wanting to push his hands away. But Silas grabbed my fingers. “Mia, don’t move.” “I’ll be gentler this time.”

As he finished speaking, Silas’s hands fell on my lower back. He pulled me into his embrace, pressing tightly against him. This kiss was long and gentle. At the end, he seemed to lose control and kissed very deeply. “Silas…” I lightly punched him and bit him in the gap between breaths. “Mia.” Silas’s voice was extremely hoarse. His whole body tensed up. The heat from his palms almost burned my body. Silas suddenly buried his face in the crook of my neck and let out a low groan. The volcano erupted, then calmed down. But soon, it was on the verge of erupting again. However, Silas gently pushed me away and pulled me to stand up. I just felt that his expression was very strange. There was also a very unfamiliar smell permeating the air. I couldn’t help but ask, “Silas, what happened to you just now?” His ears were red as blood. The usually cold and aloof man now had eyes full of deep desire. “I’m going to take a shower.” He stood up, lowered his eyes and pulled down the hem of my messy hoodie. “You sleep first.” Before I could say anything, Silas had already quickly entered the bathroom. When the sound of water started, I lay on Silas’s bed and rolled over. Then I cooled my burning face with the back of my hand. I seemed to have vaguely guessed something. But Silas was tall and often exercised, with lean muscles all over. He had a high, straight nose bridge and a sharp jawline. His fingers were also very long, with strong knuckles. No matter how you look at it, he doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would… um, finish so quickly. Could it be that he hadn’t had a girlfriend before? And had never been intimate with a girl? Thinking this way, my heart started to fill with sweet bubbles. I lay on Silas’s pillow and accidentally felt a pearl earring under his pillow. The earring looked very familiar. It was one of a pair that I loved to wear daily. Once when I came to Tristan’s dorm, I accidentally lost one and couldn’t find it no matter how hard I looked. So it turns out Silas had picked it up. I suddenly remembered. In those previous dreams, Silas seemed to have kept this earring with him all the time. After being dazed for a while, I put the earring back under his pillow. The sound of the hair dryer stopped. When Silas came out, he was wearing a set of navy blue pajamas. After the steam, his skin looked as white as jade. With his hair falling neatly, that sharp coldness from before faded a bit. Somehow, I felt Silas looked a bit cute at this moment. Just as I was about to call out to him, there was suddenly a faint sound of people talking outside the door. My expression changed, and I froze completely. One of the voices outside was clearly Tristan’s. Silas’s face also darkened, but he obviously reacted faster than me. By the time Tristan pushed open the door, Silas had already stuffed my clothes into the closet. My shoes were hidden in the deepest part under the bed. And Silas was just lifting the blanket to get into bed. Only one night light was on in the dorm, the light dim. I was hidden under Silas’s blanket. There was only a slight, inconspicuous bulge. Even if Tristan came closer, he wouldn’t notice anything unusual unless he looked carefully. “Why did you turn off the lights so early?” Tristan asked curiously. “Got caught in the rain. My head hurts a bit.” As Silas spoke, he gently gripped my restless wrist under the blanket. The bed was only about 4 feet wide, and Silas was tall with long legs, taking up a lot of space. My whole body was almost pressed against him. My breath faintly brushed against his waist. I could clearly feel that the muscles of his waist and abdomen were very tense. “Alright then.” Tristan didn’t turn on the lights either. He sat down in a chair and took out his phone to make calls. After making several calls with no one answering, Tristan was obviously a bit angry. “Silas, do you think Mia is doing this on purpose?” “What?” “I just confessed to Olivia today, and she’s already causing trouble like this.” “Just now the news reported that a female college student committed suicide by jumping into the river because of relationship troubles.” “I thought she had done something stupid, so I rushed over there, leaving Olivia behind.” “But it wasn’t her when they pulled the person out.” “I’ve been calling her all night, and she’s not answering any of them. Now she’s nowhere to be found.” Tristan slammed his phone on the table, “She’s definitely doing this on purpose, deliberately ruining my date tonight.” At this point, Tristan let out a cold laugh, “I bet she’s going to cling to me for the rest of her life.” “Not necessarily.” Silas suddenly interjected. Tristan was a bit surprised, “Not necessarily?” “Silas, you’ve seen clearly how she’s been clinging to me these past two years.” “You’ve been annoyed by her too, never giving her a good look.” Hearing this, I couldn’t help but bite Silas’s waist. He winced in pain and instinctively moved his hand to block it, but his fingers just brushed against my lips. I simply bit his finger lightly. Silas’s whole body suddenly tensed up, and he let out a very low hiss. “What’s wrong with you?” “It’s nothing… my leg cramped.” Silas’s voice was very hoarse, and he coughed twice after speaking. “Alright, you rest well. I won’t bother you anymore.” Tristan said as he stood up, “I’ll just use the bathroom and then leave.” When he pushed open the bathroom door, I suddenly thought of something. Earlier when I showered, I had washed my socks and hung them in the bathroom. Sure enough, when Tristan came out less than two minutes later, there was a mischievous smile on his face. “Silas, did you bring a girl to the dorm?” “You’ve kept it so well-hidden. Which beauty managed to win over our ice prince Silas?” “Don’t talk nonsense.” Tristan took a few steps towards the bed, “Going to bed so early, hiding someone in bed, huh?” “Tristan.” Silas’s voice suddenly turned cold. “Okay, okay, I won’t come over.” Tristan stopped in his tracks. But he looked at Silas’s bed with interest, “Do you have protection? I have extra, want me to give you some?” Silas gently gripped the back of my neck under the blanket, making me lie still on top of him. Then he glanced at Tristan, his voice a bit cold, “Don’t make those kinds of jokes about girls.” “Are you serious?” Tristan seemed a bit surprised. Silas’s lips were tightly pressed together, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “Mm.” If the light had been a bit brighter, Tristan would have seen how pained and restrained Silas’s expression was. After all, he was gripping my neck to keep me from moving. But my other parts could still move. Anyway, no one could see under the blanket. So I properly felt Silas’s abs. Every time I touched him, his muscles tensed up a bit more. I secretly moved my hand lower, and when I reached his V-line, Silas’s reaction was quite big. It even scared me.

“Alright then, I won’t disturb you guys. I’ll stay out tonight.” Tristan turned and left the dorm. As soon as the door closed, I threw off the blanket, “Silas, I was about to suffocate…” Silas leaned against the headboard, looking at me deeply. The not-so-bright light fell on his handsome, chiseled features. Casting large patches of shadows. I was stunned by the sight. They say beauty is best viewed under the lamp. Actually, it’s the same for men. Looking at a handsome guy in the flickering light and shadows certainly creates more atmosphere. “Mia.” Silas slowly sat up. He reached out and brushed aside the messy hair by my ear. Then, cupping my face, he spoke very seriously. “I wasn’t annoyed by you.” “And I didn’t give you the cold shoulder.” “Don’t take his words to heart.” After Silas finished speaking, he let go of his hands. He got out of bed and took out a pack of cigarettes, “You sleep.” “What about you?” He pointed to the balcony, “I’ll smoke a cigarette. Go to sleep.” Very timely, I suddenly sneezed. Silas stopped in his tracks. I grabbed the sleeve of his pajamas, frowning pitifully, “I think I caught a cold. My head hurts.” Silas looked at me for a while, “Let go first. I’ll get you some medicine.” After I took the medicine, I still clung to him and wouldn’t let go, “Silas, I’m a bit cold. The blanket is too thin.” But this time Silas pushed my hand away. “Mia, Tristan left a long time ago. You don’t need to do this anymore.” “What does this have to do with him?” Silas laughed self-mockingly, “What were you doing by the river tonight?” I finally came to my senses. So the news about a girl jumping into the river that Tristan mentioned earlier had made him misunderstand. He thought I went to the river because I was feeling hopeless and wanted to end my life. Calling him and coming back to his dorm was deliberately getting back at Tristan. Actually, I know it’s normal for him to think this way. For the past two years, my foster parents from the White family had been pushing me hard. After the real daughter of the White family was found. They once wanted to send me back to my birth parents. Later, probably considering that I still had some value for an arranged marriage, they reluctantly kept me. So Tristan was like a lifeline for me. I thought since we grew up together as childhood sweethearts. There would always be some affection between us. He would save me from the quagmire. I placed all my hopes on Tristan. But all of this, in others’ eyes, was evidence of my obsessive love for him. Not to mention Silas. He was Tristan’s roommate. How many moments of my “persistent pursuit” had he witnessed? “Silas…” I wanted to explain. But he had already stood up, “Set an alarm and leave early tomorrow morning. Don’t let anyone see you.” “After all, this kind of thing isn’t good for you girls.” “Silas.” But he didn’t stop or look back. I bit my lip hard, “Then you kissed me so many times tonight.” “And even did that…” “Are you not going to take responsibility?” Silas suddenly stopped in his tracks. He turned to look at me. I sat on the bed, my eyes very red, but holding back tears. “I know you hate me.” “Every time I came here before, you ignored me.” “But thank you for coming to pick me up tonight and taking me in.” “If you really don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore, then I’ll leave now.” I got up from the bed. I didn’t bother looking for my shoes, just walked towards the door barefoot. As I passed by Silas with my head down. I had already silently shed tears all over my face. “Mia.” Silas grabbed me. “I said earlier, I don’t hate you…” “Then will you take responsibility?” I shook off his hand and looked up at him defiantly. “You kissed me, hugged me.” “And even did that…” Silas suddenly gripped my chin and kissed me fiercely. “Mia.” He sucked on my lips, his breathing getting heavier. “If you insist on provoking me, then provoke me all the way.” I hugged his lean waist and stood on tiptoes to meet this deep kiss, “Okay…” During the National Day holiday, I went to the city where my birth parents lived. I stayed there for three days. When I left, that pair of scumbags who indulged in all kinds of vices. Had already been taken away by the police, awaiting the severe and merciless punishment of the law. Human trafficking, gambling, forced prostitution, thanks to those dreams, I had iron-clad evidence for each and every crime. I didn’t need to wait for rebirth or the next life. In this life, I could completely get rid of this pair of demons and let them receive the punishment they deserved. When I got on the plane, I let out a long sigh. The biggest worry in my heart was finally settled. At this moment, I felt incredibly free and relaxed. When the plane landed in the capital, I first reported to Silas that I was safe. He didn’t know the true purpose of this trip. He still thought I had gone on a short trip with my girlfriends for a few days. “I’ll come find you tonight. Is everything ready at home?” Silas had moved to an apartment off campus. He was already a senior and hardly needed to go back to school anymore. Plus, living in the same dorm with Tristan was inconvenient after all. “It’s all ready. Should I come pick you up?” “Sure.” “Mia.” “What is it?” “Today is Tristan’s birthday. He’s throwing a party and asked me to go… with my girlfriend.” I had forgotten that Tristan’s birthday was on National Day. “Mia, do you want to go with me?” I didn’t answer, feeling quite conflicted inside. It wasn’t that I was unwilling to make our relationship public. But the White family might soon cut ties with me. At that time, my unsavory background would be known to everyone. I knew Silas wouldn’t care. But I couldn’t bear to let him be criticized. Just like in the dream. They accused him of being unfilial and disloyal. For the sake of an unworthy woman. Breaking his parents’ and relatives’ hearts. But, as Silas said that day. I was the one who provoked him first, so I should provoke him all the way. You can’t have it both ways, right? “Silas.” I took a deep breath, “Do you want me to go?”

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