Category: English

On Christmas Eve, I received a very peculiar commission request. The client was in a rush. She said money was no object and ordered five matching couple avatars in one go. I agreed immediately. I figured if I pulled an all-nighter, I could finish them by tomorrow morning. Then, I could surprise my boyfriend of five years, Liam, with a spontaneous trip to Aspen to see the snow. But when I opened the reference photos, my blood ran cold. The man in the pictures was Liam. The woman? I recognized her, too. It was Amber, the admin of Liam’s biggest fan page, back from when he first started gaining traction as a pro tennis player. I stared at the photos, zooming in and out, praying my eyes were playing tricks on me. The next second, my phone lit up. A text from Liam. “Chloe, the sponsors are insisting on a dinner to discuss the new contract. It’s looking unlikely I’ll make it home tonight.” “But you just focus on getting ready for our New Year’s wedding. Wait for me. Love you.” I stared at the screen. The wedding? Yeah, that was definitely going to be missing a key element now. I called my brother in Germany. “Ryan,” I said, my voice trembling but cold. “I need to prepare a big gift for Liam for New Year’s Day.” 01 I hung up the phone. I clicked on the client’s—Amber’s—social media feed. She hadn’t blocked me. Her latest post was from thirty minutes ago. [Christmas Eve wish: To be with my Hubby forever!! ❤️❄️] The photo showed her and a man passionately kissing in the snow. The location tag: Aspen, Colorado. I would recognize that man even if he turned to ash. There was a jagged scar on the webbing of his left hand, between the thumb and index finger. It looked like a蜈蚣 (centipede). He’d gotten it during a training session when a racket snapped. Someone else in the world might have a hand scar, but not that exact shape. And then I saw the comment underneath. Liam_Tennis: [Growing old together with wifey.] I switched back to my texts with Liam. Ten minutes ago, he told me he was at a business dinner. My hand, usually so steady when holding a stylus, was shaking uncontrollably. It felt like a knife was twisting in my chest. A sudden wave of nausea hit me. I ran to the bathroom and hugged the toilet, retching until my eyes watered. So, the “sponsors” were just a cover. He was in Aspen. With her. I video-called him. He declined instantly. A second later, a text popped up. Liam: [Chloe, is everything okay?] Liam: [Can’t video chat right now, babe. The sponsors are making toasts, it’s rude to be on my phone.] Liam: [I’m sorry, sweetie. I know I’ve been busy. I’ll make it up to you when I get home, okay?] His words seemed so sincere. A week ago, I would have been moved to tears by his dedication. Now, I knew the truth. He was cheating. One week before our wedding. I didn’t know if Amber hired me on purpose or by accident. My own profile picture was literally a drawing of me and Liam. I switched back to the chat with Amber. I put on a mask. Me: [Wow, you and your boyfriend look so perfect together! I’ll definitely make these look amazing for you.] Amber took the bait. She started gushing about how they met. But I caught the slip-up: she mentioned they had been together for two years. Then she cut the convo short. “Hubby cooked dinner for me. Gotta go eat!” She sent a photo. A man wearing an apron, peeling shrimp at a dining table. It was Liam. 02 Two years? I did the math. Two years ago, Liam had just started making a name for himself on the circuit. He was handsome, played an aggressive game, and gained a lot of female fans. For a while, he kept talking about this one “superfan.” I asked who she was, and he brushed it off. “Just a devoted fan, Chloe. She runs the fan club.” Eventually, I got annoyed, and he stopped mentioning her. I thought he was respecting my boundaries. Turns out, they were just taking it underground. I stopped replying to her. I sat down at my tablet. My time is expensive. Rush orders are expensive. Whether Liam was cheating or Amber was taunting me, money was money. Who holds a grudge against cash? I painted through the night. By dawn, I sent the files. Amber paid immediately. I looked at the bank notification, counted the zeros, and finally went to sleep. When Liam came home, I was still in bed. He brought the cold winter air in with him. I woke up because his hands were wandering under the sheets. I grabbed his wrist. “Cold.” He paused, clearly surprised I was awake. He touched his nose sheepishly and smiled. “Hey, sleeping beauty.” “I rushed back to spend Christmas morning with you. I even got you a gift!” “Are you happy, babe?” His tone was expectant, cheerful. But all I could see was him kissing Amber in the snow. I forced a smile and hugged him. “Since you’re back, go shower first,” I said. “Wash off the travel fatigue. Just like we promised.” “Okay!” He agreed. It was a rule we made years ago: wash away the bad vibes from the outside world before getting into bed. Really, I just wanted him to wash off the smell. That cloying lily perfume he reeked of was giving me a migraine. While he showered, I checked my phone. Liam had changed his WhatsApp profile picture. I checked Amber’s. They were matching. It was one of the pairs I drew last night. I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. We’ve been together five years, and he doesn’t even recognize my art style? Using a portrait I drew of him and his mistress as his profile picture? Is he stupid, or just cruel? Liam walked out, drying his hair. He saw me staring at his phone. Panic flashed in his eyes, but the lie came smooth as butter. “Babe, don’t overthink it! I just found this online. The guy looks just like me, right?” “You never want to use matching avatars with me, so I had to find my own.” “If you don’t like it, I’ll change it.” Even when caught, he tried to make it my fault. My heart still ached, but my resolve was hardening. 03 I took a deep breath to steady my voice. “Where did you find it? It’s crazy, it looks exactly like you!” “I don’t think I could even draw you that accurately.” Liam was about to reply when his phone rang. He answered, glanced at me, and immediately put on a worried face. “Slow down. What happened to the team?” “Do I really have to be there?” “Did the coach approve this?” Three minutes later, he hung up. He looked at me with pained eyes. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. I have to bail on you again…” I looked at him calmly. “What happened?” “Training camp. There’s a match in Seattle today, and a teammate injured his wrist. Coach needs me to fill in.” “It’s Christmas… I’ll make it up to you in a few days, I promise.” He was already changing his clothes. “I left your gift in the living room. Open it carefully, I spent ages picking it out!” He checked his phone, sent a text, kissed my forehead, and left. Smooth. Practiced. Usually, he would beg for my permission. Today, he didn’t even wait for a response. He didn’t know that the walls in the hallway aren’t soundproof. I heard him on the phone as he walked to the elevator. It wasn’t the coach. It was a woman. “I miss you, Liam. I hurt my wrist playing tennis… it hurts so bad.” It was Amber. I watched him perform his little play and felt nothing but disgust. Five years of love, destroyed by the excitement of a fling. My stomach cramped again. Wait. The nausea. I ordered a pregnancy test via instant delivery. Ten minutes later, I was staring at two red lines. Just then, Amber messaged me. 04 Amber: [Chloe, oh Chloe. You really are naive, aren’t you?] Amber: [Did you seriously not recognize the man in the drawings?] Amber: [Liam has been home for less than two hours. I just used a little trick, and he’s already running back to me.] Amber: [Men are simple. If you service them well in bed, their hearts stay with you. Did you ever wonder who he’s thinking about when he sleeps with you?] I felt the blood freeze in my veins. She knew. She hired me on purpose. She sent a video. Five seconds long. Filmed from a second-story window. Liam, holding a takeout bag, running desperately from his car toward the building. Amber: [I’m pregnant. Almost four months.] She was laying her cards on the table. She wanted me to quit so she could take the spot of Mrs. Bai. I didn’t reply. I muted her notifications. I touched my flat stomach. I booked the earliest appointment for an abortion. This child was innocent, but I had no choice. I would not tie myself to this man forever. I opened social media to take down the pinned photo of me and Liam. Then I saw Amber’s new post. [Loving the Christmas gift from Hubby! My favorite!!] It was a photo of a luxury jewelry set. Next to it was an ultrasound. I zoomed in. Four months. Then I saw her comment below it. Amber: [It’s a pity the silk scarf that came with the set got lost. Hubby said he lost it! So annoying!!] Amber: [But he said it was just a free gift with purchase anyway. He promised to buy me a designer one next time! Hehe, love him.] The scarf was lost? I remembered Liam telling me to “open the gift carefully.” I walked to the living room. My hands trembled as I lifted the lid of the box he left. Inside lay a silk scarf. I laughed out loud. A harsh, broken sound. So this was what five years of love amounted to? I was the trash can for his mistress’s free gift with purchase.

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I was the daughter the whole internet nicknamed “The Scourge,” the one who stole my mother’s life savings—the money meant for her cardiac surgery—and blew it all on high-end escorts at a downtown club, claiming it was for my own selfish vanity. That very night, I was brought down in a VICE raid. My father, Police Director Frank Wallace, nearly had a heart attack from the sheer humiliation. He cut all ties with me in front of his entire squad. “Sloane Wallace! You are no daughter of mine. Never show your face to your mother or me again!” I vanished as he wished, a ghost in the wind. Seven years later, a little girl appeared at the precinct. She was wearing rags and clutching a backpack stained dark red. She spoke timidly. “I’m looking for Mr. Wallace. Sloane asked me to bring him a gift.” Dad’s eyes immediately went bloodshot. “She’s out of money, so she comes crawling back? Is that leech, Sloane, trying to bleed her mother and me dry from the grave?” The little girl shook her head in fear. “Sloane doesn’t want money. She’s with lots of other sisters, living in the black house. She wants you to come get her.” 1 Seven years. Dad looked so much older, but the fury in his face when he heard my name was exactly as it had been that final night. I drifted close to him. No one could see me, but I dropped to my knees anyway and lowered my head seven times, a deep, silent apology. “Dad, I’m so sorry. Your daughter won’t be able to take care of you and Mom anymore.” The agony of my physical death still clung to my soul. I felt like I was enduring the slow burn of a terrible fire at every moment. But even that great pain couldn’t compare to the ache in my heart over the gray strands threading through his hair. Phoebe flinched at Dad’s sharp voice. She was the toughest of the children, though. She sniffled but didn’t cry. Instead, she stretched out her small arms, holding the stained backpack up, trying to reach it to him. “Mr. Wallace, this is the gift Sloane left for you.” But Dad angrily slapped the bag away. “Where is Sloane? She severed all ties seven years ago and walked out without a single look back. What good are these gifts now? Does she actually expect me to forgive her?” Bringing up the old scandal caused a wave of whispers among the uniformed officers. Detective Miller, Dad’s closest friend, couldn’t hold back his frustration. “She really is a debt-collector, isn’t she? Couldn’t rest even after leaving. Nearly killed Ellie seven years ago, and now she’s back to finish the job on you?” That seven-year-old headline seemed to be burned into everyone’s memory. Without exception, they all saw me as the monstrous daughter. “Ellie needed her cardiac bypass. Not only did she ignore her own mother’s illness, she stole the money and hired escorts.” “I was actually the one who caught Sloane in the raid. Three guys. I still can’t bring myself to talk about the scene.” “Thank God the Director managed to recover the stolen funds, or Ellie… God.” The sighs grew heavier. Phoebe, anxious and frightened, retrieved the backpack and clutched it fiercely. She seemed to understand that they were badmouthing me, her eyes wide and tear-filled as she defended me in a choked whisper. “Sloane is good. Don’t call her bad names.” “What’s the connection with Sloane? Why is this kid so protective of her?” Everyone’s attention slowly shifted to Phoebe. She looked two or three years younger than her actual age due to chronic malnutrition. Dad’s expression flickered between anger and confusion. “Are you Sloane’s daughter? That leech’s child?” Phoebe’s environment had been so brutal that I’d only taught her how to talk after I arrived. She didn’t know what a “mom” or a “daughter” was. She only clung to the task I had given her, struggling to explain. “Sloane took the best care of me. Mr. Wallace, please, open the backpack. Sloane and so many other sisters are in the little black room. They want to get out, but they can’t.” Detective Miller scoffed. “She walked out so easily back then. Now she can’t afford to raise her kid, so she sends her back to cheat money out of you. Sloane is truly a leech.” Dad grabbed Phoebe’s arm and then froze. Beneath the thin skin, he could see layers of scars, old and new, sickeningly overlapping. “Sloane… that animal. She can’t even raise her own daughter properly? Did all those lessons about protecting the people go straight to the dogs?” Then, he seemed to remember something else, and his voice became desolate. “Maybe I never taught her anything at all.” I felt the deep disappointment radiating from him. Perhaps the wounds to my body had been so profound that they had shredded my soul, too. I shook my head gently, a lonely voice in the silence. “You taught me very well, Dad.” The word “animal” must have hit a nerve. Phoebe suddenly dropped, covering her head and screaming in a loud wail. “I’m sorry… please don’t hit me… I won’t run away again.” I knew this was the deep-seated PTSD of the black house, but Dad didn’t. Everyone fell silent, watching Phoebe curl up on the floor, crying helplessly. “Sloane…” Miller’s eyes were red-rimmed, but they didn’t curse me anymore. My nose stung with unshed tears. They had never changed. Always so soft-hearted and good. That’s why I had sent the only one who could escape, Phoebe, to find them. Dad’s hands clenched white-knuckled. He stiffly patted Phoebe’s head, his voice hoarse. “Tell me where Sloane is. I’ll go ask her myself if she’s fit to raise you. If she can’t, I’ll take you to a foster home. I won’t let you be abused again.” Without the expected fists or whips, only a warm hand rested on her. Phoebe slowly relaxed, clinging to the backpack. She furrowed her brow in painful memory. “Sloane is in the black house.” Seeing that Phoebe couldn’t offer any more information, Dad silently pulled out his phone and brought up a contact. He used to have me saved as “My Princess.” Later, when I was demanding, greedy for money, he changed it to “Sloane Wallace.” After we cut ties, I became a cold, anonymous number. His finger hovered over the screen for a long time before he finally pressed the dial button. I knew this was a call that would never be answered. I’d broken the SIM card and thrown it in a dumpster the day I left seven years ago. “Hello?” But the call connected. 2 Dad’s mouth twitched. It was as if a thousand needles were lodged in his throat. He swallowed hard before speaking with effort. “Do you still want your daughter? If not, I’m sending her to the State Home.” “What the hell is this? I’m sending my daughter to school! Who are you?” The voice on the other end was angry and completely unfamiliar. “Are these scam calls getting this sloppy? If you curse my daughter again, I’m calling the police and having you arrested.” The line disconnected. I felt a sudden jolt of realization. Seven years was so long. Even my phone number had been recycled and reassigned. Dad slowly lowered the phone, his lips a thin, tight line. His finger aimlessly traced the screen. “So cold-blooded. She won’t even claim her own child.” Miller sighed and patted Dad’s shoulder. Dad exhaled, then his brow suddenly furrowed. “I want a full trace on Sloane Wallace. Where has she been all these years? Child abuse, abandonment. If this is all true, I won’t let her get away with it.” “What about her?” Miller pointed to Phoebe, who had calmed down and was looking at them expectantly. Dad looked at her for a long time. “I’ll take her to a State Home.” When Dad held out his hand, Phoebe obediently took it and walked behind him. She was so good, so obedient. Her journey had been long and difficult, all because I told her: “Phoebe, don’t cry.” Seven days and six nights. Even when she fell down a rocky slope, her knees bloody and scraped, she didn’t shed a single tear. When she was chased by stray dogs fighting over scraps in the early hours, or kicked into a dark alley by a disgusted passerby, she only wiped her eyes, bit her lip, and continued on her journey. I told her: “Phoebe, you must listen to Mr. Wallace.” Despite being bruised and scarred by men, she didn’t resist or struggle when Dad held out his hand, following him docilely toward an unknown future. I floated silently behind Phoebe, but I wasn’t as strong as she was. Tears streamed from my eyes. A single tear fell onto her cheek. Phoebe seemed to feel something. She looked up slightly. “Mr. Wallace, I think it’s raining.” Dad didn’t say anything. He just spread his hand to cover her head. The two of them drove in silence to the State Home entrance. The Director there looked at the scarred Phoebe with deep sympathy. She murmured constantly. “Such a poor child. Is this another one you rescued?” Dad simply nodded, gently pushing Phoebe toward the Director. “Just for a few days of temporary placement. Once we find her mother… I’ll come back for her.” The Director agreed. Phoebe stood still, clutching the backpack, her eyes wide with terror. She nervously darted her gaze around, as if searching for someone. I watched Dad’s resolute back, shouting in despair. “Dad, don’t leave Phoebe! She walked so far to find you! They’re the last hope! If she’s found, she’ll die! We’ll all die!” But no one could hear my voice. I could do nothing but circle helplessly. A deep feeling of powerlessness enveloped me, making my soul feel heavy. Phoebe suddenly let out a short, sharp scream. She fiercely shielded the backpack and crouched in the corner, muttering repeatedly. “Don’t catch me, don’t catch me, oh God, I won’t go back.” I knew this was Phoebe’s core trauma response, but Dad didn’t. Everyone fell silent, watching Phoebe curl up on the ground, crying frantically. “Sloane…” Miller’s eyes were getting red, but they didn’t utter any more harsh words. I felt a familiar lump in my throat. They had never changed. Always so compassionate and kind. That’s why I had desperately sent the only escapee to them. Dad’s hands were shaking as he knelt down. He stopped Phoebe’s movements and pulled her into his arms, his voice ragged. “Sloane taught you to threaten me like this?” 3 Phoebe’s face was deathly pale with terror, and her tears flowed uncontrollably, like a broken faucet. “Mr. Wallace, please don’t leave me.” Something must have clicked in her mind. Her trembling hands started to unbutton her t-shirt. “Phoebe can take her clothes off and earn money. Just please don’t leave me.” Dad’s body seized up. His face turned ashen as he quickly stopped her. “She actually made you… made you go out and do that for money… How could she turn out this way? She swore she would become a hero, just like me.” But Dad’s weakness lasted only a moment, so fast that the tear in his eye seemed like a trick of the light. He called Miller. “Issue an immediate warrant for Sloane Wallace. Move fast. I’m going to personally bring her in.” He did, however, bring Phoebe home. I looked at the familiar front door and the familiar, yet strangely distant, sight of my mother, Eleanor. My soul trembled with pain. Mom had aged so much. She used to meticulously fix her hair, never letting a strand be out of place. Now, she looked frail, like an old woman. Yet, despite her pale face, she gently wiped a tear from Phoebe’s cheek the moment she saw it. “What’s your name, sweetie? Why are you so hurt? Did someone bad hurt you?” Phoebe numbly rubbed her face against Mom’s hand and whispered. “I know you… You’re Sloane’s Mom.” On many unbearable nights, I would hold the equally distraught Phoebe and softly hum a song to soothe her. Phoebe would quiet down, dependent, and ask me. “Sloane, what is that? It’s so pretty.” I told her it was a lullaby, the song my mother loved to sing to me. Mom was the person who loved me most in the world, the one who would feel guilt if I was hurt and who would try her hardest to give me everything I ever wanted. Phoebe didn’t know what a mother or daughter was. After all, in that black house, we were all just called “livestock.” “When you meet my mom, you’ll understand.” The instant Phoebe pressed against Mom, she suddenly relaxed like a lost cub finding its den. She threw herself into Mom’s embrace, sobbing. “Sloane, I know what a mother is now.” Mom went completely rigid. She looked at Dad in disbelief. Dad lowered his head, his voice strained. “Sloane sent her to me. She’s her daughter.” My usually forgiving mother suddenly shoved Phoebe away. A hint of disgust and an unspeakable pain twisted her eyebrows. “She… How dare she? Is she back to see if I’m dead yet?” Mom’s voice trembled as she spoke wildly to the confused Phoebe. “Do I owe her something? She stole my life-saving money for men!” “For seven years, she never called, not even when your father was stabbed and bleeding out in the street, waiting to die! She abandoned her own child! Sloane Wallace, it took me seven years to see her wicked nature. I should never have given birth to her!” I knelt before Mom, repeatedly whispering, I’m sorry. Phoebe stood there, clutching the backpack and apologizing, too. Our voices overlapped, as if I was voicing through Phoebe the repentance I never got to speak seven years ago. Dad worriedly rubbed Mom’s chest to help her breathe. Yet, despite their hatred and resentment, they didn’t abandon Phoebe on the doorstep. Mom instead took Phoebe to the bathroom to clean her wounds. The moment she removed Phoebe’s shirt, the coldness in Mom’s eyes dissolved into shock and heart-wrenching pity. Her trembling hand touched Phoebe. The small child had almost no unscarred skin; she was covered in lacerations. “Did Sloane do this?” Her voice was laced with towering rage. Phoebe slowly shook her head. “Sloane protected me.” Mom clearly didn’t believe her, but no matter how angry she was, her hands became even gentler. Then she reached for Phoebe’s dirty backpack, and Phoebe suddenly shrieked. “Don’t touch it! Only Mr. Wallace can touch this backpack!” Phoebe struggled violently, splashing Mom with warm water. Mom quickly soothed her, gently coaxing her. “Phoebe, it’s okay. I won’t touch the backpack. You want to give it to Mr. Wallace, right? He’s right outside the door. You can give it to him yourself.” Dad, who had been listening anxiously outside, watched as Phoebe pleaded and handed him the backpack. He finally took it. “Mr. Wallace, if you open this, my sisters can all come out of the black house.” Because it was wet, the first thing that happened when Dad touched the bag was a pool of blood seeping onto his palm. He frowned uneasily, exchanging a worried glance with Mom. The apprehension in their eyes deepened. Dad’s hand trembled as he pulled open the zipper. A piece of decaying human skin fell out. It had a reddish, butterfly-shaped birthmark. I had that exact mark on my chest. Mom gasped, clutching her chest, her breathing shallow. The phone rang at that moment. Dad mechanically answered the call. It was Miller’s grim voice. “We’ve got a lock on Sloane’s last location. It’s the warehouse where the main suspect from the massive missing persons case seven years ago last vanished.”

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As graduation approached, the rich heiress in my dorm room cried about how much she’d miss me. I joked, “If you’re that capable, why don’t you just marry me?” She nodded solemnly, lunging forward as if to kiss me. “Okay, wifey. I’ll marry you.” I dodged quickly. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re both girls.” She didn’t say a word. That night, I heard her on the phone: “Bro, do me a favor.” “Help me marry a wife.” 1 Second semester of senior year. Finishing my thesis defense felt like being released from prison. I partied hard. Late nights, endless hangouts. And then I partied a little too hard and got into trouble. Riding my electric scooter home at midnight, I forgot about my night blindness. One wrong turn and—crunch—I slammed straight into a pitch-black luxury car. The cop shook his head while writing the report. “Look at you. You dodged all the beat-up sedans just to pick the most expensive car on the block to hit.” The car was brand new. No insurance yet. I was fully liable. The owner didn’t say much. He just kept emailing me the repair bills. Those strings of numbers made me dizzy. I felt that specific kind of helplessness where you want to die but can’t afford a grave. I hadn’t officially graduated yet, so I didn’t have a real job. But I needed to pay him back fast. During my gap period, I looked for any gig I could find. My mom called to say the cherry harvest was huge this year. She asked if I wanted to come pick cherries for a hundred bucks a day. Heck yes. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I could pick a cherry orchard bare with my bare hands right now. I immediately bought a ticket home for that night. I wanted to tell Chloe. But she was still out traveling. So, on the way to the station, I sent her a voice message: “Chloe, I’m heading home first…” Screech. Before I could finish, the Uber driver slammed on the brakes. I lurched forward, my finger slipped, and the voice message sent. Chloe didn’t reply immediately. When I got to the station, she voice-called me. Her voice was eerily calm. “Jo, you left something very important behind.” I thought hard. “What? I’m pretty sure I packed everything.” Her voice suddenly turned frantic. “It’s extremely important! Come back right now!” I was confused. I was so broke I had even packed the toothpaste tube I had to roll up to squeeze. How could I leave anything important? “I really didn’t leave anything important at school,” I replied. “I say you did, so you did! You did, you did, you did! Come back!” Chloe’s family is loaded. She’s the typical pampered heiress. Usually a bit willful and spoiled. When she gets anxious, she throws a tantrum. But she’s never unreasonable. Plus, she’s sweet and smells nice. Once you get used to it, it’s actually kind of cute. Before I could say anything else, she hung up. I ignored her and got ready to scan my ID to enter the station. The next second, my phone chimed with the beautiful sound of a deposit. A transfer of $50,000. From Chloe. See? She really is cute. The note on the transfer was simple and brutal: “Take the money. Refund the ticket. Come back.” Okay then. I remembered. I remembered everything. I definitely left something very important behind. 2 I obediently returned to the apartment I shared with Chloe off-campus. The moment I walked in, she rushed over and hugged me. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying. “Jo, you can’t leave!” I didn’t have time for her melodrama. I needed to go earn my hundred bucks. I finally peeled her off me. “What important thing did I leave behind?” Chloe’s eyes darted away for a second, then she put on her usual haughty expression. Hands on her hips, head tilted, she pointed at herself with righteous confidence. “Me.” Me: “…” “Hey, why aren’t you saying anything? Am I not important to you?” “I gave you the best four years of my youth living with you. How many four years do we get in life?” “Jo, say something! What am I to you?!” Excuse me? Princess, why do you sound like I’m a scumbag ex-boyfriend who abandoned you? Sometimes I really want to call the police. But I took her fifty grand, so I could only force a smile. “Of course… you are the most important thing in my heart.” I almost ground my molars to dust. Chloe kept rambling. “I came back and didn’t see you. You scared me to death! Jo, how could you be so cruel? Leaving me all alone!” “Four years together, morning and night, and you just leave after graduation? I don’t agree!” I raised my hand to rub my temple, but Chloe shoved her head under my hand. She wanted me to pet her. Resigned, I gently stroked her silky hair. I felt bad, but I had to say it. “But Chloe, we have to part ways eventually.” “Even though that day is coming soon, I’m just graduating and going home. I’m not dying.” “If you want to see me, I can come visit, or you can come find me.” Chloe is a local here in the city. I’m not. I don’t have the means to stay and build a career here. If we hadn’t gotten into the same college, I probably never would have met someone like her. Becoming friends with Chloe was purely accidental. Freshman year, four years ago. I didn’t get along with my roommates. I was ostracized. My request to switch dorms was denied. I wanted to move out. But our campus is in the city center. Rent is astronomical. A student like me couldn’t afford it. Screw this school. I quietly climbed up to the campus roof. No hidden agenda, I just wanted to invite the school board to enjoy the breeze with me. I sat there for ages, and no one noticed me. I was bored out of my mind. So I started scrolling on my phone. That’s when I saw Chloe’s post on the campus confession wall looking for a roommate. Her parents bought her the apartment, but it was too big. She was lonely and a little scared living alone. She wanted someone to keep her company. Rent-free. My eyes lit up. I DM’d her immediately. I thought the competition would be fierce, so I padded my resume with enough fluff to fill a pillow. Turns out, Chloe had either offended someone or was just the victim of rumors. There was a thread on the campus forum with over a thousand comments about her bad temper and princess syndrome. She never defended herself. So I was overthinking it. No one was fighting me for the spot. I ran down from the roof and sprinted to the interview. When we met, she asked me to cook a meal to test my skills. I actually couldn’t cook. Plus, I was nervous. After tinkering for ages, I produced a plate of egg fried rice that was half mush, half burnt. I can’t imagine how bad it tasted. But Chloe ate it all without a word, eyes teary. I’ve seen likable heiresses, but never a people-pleaser like this… At first, I was anxious living with her, afraid she wouldn’t like me either. But I discovered Chloe was actually really sweet. When she posted a nine-photo grid of expensive gourmet meals on Instagram, she’d put my fried rice right in the center. She’d hang the ragdoll I hand-sewed on her designer handbag worth thousands. She’d send me money or gifts for the tiniest reasons—like if I just smiled at her. … I wondered countless times, who said she had a bad temper??? She’s literally an angel! Honestly, I was going to miss her too. But I knew that after graduation, even if we met up, it wouldn’t be the same. 3 Chloe shook her head violently. “Who says we have to separate after graduation? I don’t agree!” “If you leave, who’s going to make me fried rice, sew dolls, peel crawfish, and cut watermelon? Waaah, I don’t want you to go.” “Your housekeeper can do those things.” “It’s not the same! You’re my bestie. My bestie doing it makes it special!” “She must genuinely like me to do these things for me. Forget it, you don’t have a bestie as good as Jo, you wouldn’t understand.” Me: “…” I felt a pang of guilt and looked away. She treats me like a bestie. I treat her like an ATM. Chloe kept outputting, listing everything I’d done for her over the years. “Everyone else disliked me, said I had a bad temper. Only you stood by me. I know you were the one who hacked the school forum and took down that thread. You looked so cool doing it.” “When I was sick, you skipped your exam to take care of me. You prepared for that exam for so long. You said you didn’t study and didn’t want to take it, but I saw your textbook was worn out.” “When I had anorexia and weighed like ninety pounds, you didn’t know how to cook but learned just for me. You cut your fingers so many times, got oil burns all over your arms. I’m healthy now because you fed me mouthful by mouthful. Like a mom…” As she spoke, she started crying. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. The atmosphere got heavy. I couldn’t handle the sentimental vibe, so I joked to lighten the mood. “If you miss me that much, why don’t you just marry me and take me home?” Chloe stopped crying instantly. Her pouting face turned serious. She looked like she was genuinely considering it. After a moment, she sniffled and nodded solemnly. “Okay. I’ll marry you.” I know her. That expression meant she wasn’t joking. She meant it. I quickly pushed against her head as she buried it in my chest and dodged. “Hey, hey, hey! Stop! Don’t be crazy! We’re both girls! I was kidding!” I was really afraid she’d take it seriously. Recently, I heard her family was arranging a marriage for her. If her parents found out I led their daughter astray… They’d drown both of us in a vat of herbal medicine to purify us. Chloe didn’t get mad that I dodged her. She started counting on her fingers, analyzing calmly. “We’ve lived together for years. Our lifestyles and personalities mesh perfectly. We know everything about each other. We’ve met the parents. We like each other. It’s a waste not to get married.” Makes sense, but not really. I explained earnestly, “If one of us were a man, maybe it would work. But we’re both girls. Being best friends is great too.” Chloe didn’t speak. She stared at me for a long time, then gritted her teeth. “Fine. You want a man, right?” “Don’t run off. I have a plan. I won’t let you go!” I nodded, leaning back on the sofa with my hands behind my head. I didn’t think she could come up with any plan. Let her ponder life for a bit. She’ll figure it out eventually. After playing with the cat on the sofa for a while, I needed to use the bathroom. It had been a while. Chloe should be done pondering life. I walked to the bathroom. Just as I was about to knock, I heard Chloe’s voice from inside: “Bro, do me a favor.” “What is it?” Chloe had him on speaker. A deep, magnetic male voice with a lazy, just-woken-up drawl floated out. I knew Chloe had a brother doing his PhD in Germany, but I didn’t know he sounded this good. “It’s simple. Promise me first.” “Chloe, if it were simple, you wouldn’t say that. Spit it out.” “Really, really. Brother, my good brother. If you knew what I wanted you to do, you’d thank me.” “Isn’t your car broken? If you help me, I’ll lend you my car.” He scoffed on the other end. “I have more than one car. Hurry up. What do you want?” “Help me marry a wife.” … Me: ? This is her “plan”? The other end of the line fell silent too. 4 I assume her brother was shocked too. He didn’t speak for a long time. Chloe kept rambling, trying to persuade him. I tuned out. By the time she opened the bathroom door, I was still standing there like an idiot. Seeing me, Chloe guessed I had overheard. She waved her phone with a proud look. “Jo, you rejected me because I’m a girl. But I have a brother. He’s a man. Tall, handsome, smart, and has some money. You can’t reject that, right?” Me: “…” Do I dare reject that? But I felt it was wrong. Plus, her brother was overseas. Dragging someone into this from across the ocean seemed unethical. Seeing my hesitation, Chloe added, “He’s my biological brother! Same last name! I vouch for his character… Please, please? Can you stay?” My first instinct was still to refuse. He’s a PhD student, so he must be at least 28. Men over 26 are basically elderly. I just graduated. I’m 23. Women over 23 are forever 18. An age-gap romance like this would get roasted online forever. No way. Doing a PhD in Germany? He’s probably balding and mentally unstable. And he hadn’t said a word, so he definitely wasn’t into it. Thinking this, I said to Chloe, “No. Unless your brother is Hayden Lin, there’s no deal.” I froze as soon as I said the name. That’s the name of the luxury car owner I hit. I’ve been receiving his repair bills lately. Every time I open one, I see his name. Every morning I wake up owing Mr. Hayden Lin another few grand. Life is full of hope. Until it isn’t. So when Chloe mentioned the last name “Lin,” that name popped into my head instantly. Owing him hundreds of thousands at my most helpless age made him more unforgettable than a first love. I didn’t plan to explain. Chloe wouldn’t know him anyway. But knowing him or not was secondary. As long as she understood that her brother and I were impossible. “Stop!” “Who did you say? Lin what? What what what! What’s his name?!” Chloe’s voice jumped an octave, weirdly excited. Startled, I answered weakly, “Hayden… Hayden Lin.” “AAAAH Jo! How did you know my brother is Hayden Lin?!!”

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Chapter 1 “Honey, eat a little more.” This was the sixth time my parents had served me rice today. In a tiny bowl, sure, but I’d already demolished five of them. I waved my hand. “No more. I’ve lost my appetite.” My parents exchanged glances, and then my mom started tearing up. “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick? You ate so little today… has Mom’s cooking gotten worse?” My glamorous mother threw herself into my dashing father’s arms, both of them sobbing like it was the end of the world. Seeing Mom so heartbroken, I didn’t dare mention dieting. I maneuvered my electric wheelchair and practically fled the scene. “I’m fine, Mom! Just going to the bathroom!” “Don’t clear the table, I’ll eat more later!” I’m Penny. Thanks to overindulgent parents and hormonal issues, I’ve managed to become a 330-pound girl who’s the butt of everyone’s jokes. Ten minutes ago, I got some bad news. The class beauty from high school, Chloe, got into the same college as me. Same major, too. She found the school hunk’s contact info on the campus network, pretended to be me to start an online relationship with him, and agreed to meet him when school starts. She threatened me, saying if I didn’t show up, I’d regret it. She’d print out my “beautiful” photos and hand them out to everyone. I was terrified. I didn’t want my college life to start with me being a laughingstock again. Just then, a metallic voice rang in my head. “Host Penny detected. Weight: 340 lbs. Meets criteria for the Fat Exchange System. Bind?” Chapter 2 I blinked. What? A panel appeared in front of me, filled with bizarre items. The only commonality was that they all required exchanging fat. After reading through it, I gasped. I knew I was the chosen one! 1kg of fat could be exchanged for $1,500. Daily limit: 10kg. I didn’t believe it. I had to try. Hehehe! Let’s try exchanging 5kg first. “Congratulations, exchange successful. Current weight: 330 lbs.” Simultaneously, a pleasant notification sound came from my phone. “Venmo received: $7,500.” I scrutinized my face in the mirror for a long time but gave up. I didn’t see any difference. But the $7,500 in my Venmo was definitely real. I opened the charity app I often donated to and impulsively donated all $7,500 to a project supporting underprivileged girls. Only when the screen displayed “Thank you for your donation” did it feel somewhat real. I couldn’t help but hug my phone in ecstasy! Thank you, Universe! I love you! Mwah! Chapter 3 Just as I was celebrating, a text from Chloe came through. “Piggy, you’re about to meet your hubby online. Remember to wash yourself clean.” “I don’t know how you have the courage to live being so fat. If I were you, I’d just die.” “Pig, friendly reminder, there are nine days left until college starts.” “See you at college.” My mood plummeted instantly. My beef with Chloe goes way back. At the start of freshman year in high school, I accidentally knocked Chloe’s pencil case off her desk. The boy behind us mocked Chloe, saying her stuff was rooted by a pig. Chloe burst into tears. Instead of getting mad at the boy, she turned her anger on me. From then on, she led the charge in bullying me, making my life miserable. I finally got into college, thinking I could escape all this, but fate had other plans. We ended up at the same university again. Was history about to repeat itself? Chapter 4 The system reminded me: “Host, you can exchange 10kg of fat daily. Anything on Earth can be exchanged.” I tested it: “I want an aircraft carrier?” System: “…F*ck.” Realizing its lack of manners, the system quickly changed its tone, trying to guide me. “Why don’t you watch some live streams and tip those handsome male models? It provides great emotional value and will improve your mood.” I shook my head. “Men.” What’s the difference between throwing money at men and throwing it into the water? I’d rather donate to charity. Men, not even worth a… Look! I’m looking at men! I opened TikTok, and the first thing I saw was my former high school classmate. Peyton. I used to have a crush on him. The reason was shallow: when Chloe bullied me, only he spoke up for me. “We’re all classmates, don’t go too far.” But later, Chloe tore a page from my diary and slipped it into his textbook. He was the one who called it disgusting. “Welcome ‘I Want to Lose 200 Pounds’ to the stream.” “Interesting ID. Welcome, miss.” His warm voice was pleasant. He wasn’t like this at school. It was always, “Fat pig, get lost,” followed by roaring laughter from everyone. He posted my diary page on the school bulletin board. No matter how I explained it wasn’t me, everyone just laughed at my delusional crush. Maybe some believed me, but that didn’t stop them from mocking me… I snapped out of my memories. The stream already had nearly five thousand viewers. Chapter 5 Peyton was in a PK battle with a middle-aged man in clown makeup who looked a bit chubby. The opponent had only fifty viewers. “PrettyLady” sent a combo of “Love Blast” x10. Pink bubbles filled the screen. Peyton smirked. “Thanks, Chloe.” I wasn’t stupid; I knew this was Chloe’s alt account. Peyton used his nice voice to say nasty things. “Uncle, I won’t bully you. If you lose, just drink iced tea.” The comments were full of “Hahahaha,” confusing me. What kind of punishment was that? Just as I was puzzled, someone in the comments explained. “Making him write ‘pee’ on the iced tea bottle. It’s basically public humiliation.” I frowned. So insulting. Peyton had over five thousand viewers; the uncle had fifty. There was no way the uncle could win. But the uncle gritted his teeth and accepted the bet. “I agree, but if I win, can you ask your viewers to follow me?” Peyton scoffed. “Uncle, what do you need followers for?” The uncle said earnestly, “I want to get sponsors. I need a thousand followers to get sponsors.” “Hahahaha.” Laughter filled the screen again. Curiosity drove me to click on his stream. Traffic was dismal, the background was simple, and his clown makeup was running with sweat, making him look truly pathetic. Just as I was about to close it, I heard the system tut. “This guy is pitiful.” Me: “Huh? What’s wrong?” Just a guy chasing clout, right? The system explained: “His daughter has leukemia. He’s clowning around because he has no money. Otherwise, who at his age would want to be a laughingstock?” Peyton’s stream was still laughing… I felt a surge of inexplicable anger. I heard myself say something very chuunibyou to the system: Today, I’m staying here. I’m going to make this uncle win. Chapter 6 Peyton’s fans wouldn’t let up on the uncle. They kept belittling him to boost Peyton. After “PrettyLady” dropped a Castle gift, the comments exploded like fireworks. The mockery intensified: “Uncle’s wrinkles could trap flies.” “So old and still battling a handsome guy? Anything for money? Bet his butt is saggy too. Hahaha.” My fingers hovered over the keyboard, chest tight. This collective malice was snowballing, and Peyton turned a blind eye. The uncle also ignored it, smiling obsequiously, as if he’d do anything for traffic. I took a deep breath and typed: “Do you know his daughter has leukemia? He’s not begging based on his daughter’s illness; he’s earning it himself. What’s wrong with that?” The comments paused for a second, then erupted with even fiercer attacks, including me this time. “Here we go again, classic leukemia scam.” “Are these two in cahoots?” “Scammers work in teams now?” “Proof? Show medical records! Show the GoFundMe!” “Even if it’s true, fundraising in an entertainment PK? Sick in the head.” I couldn’t take it anymore: “Donate. Isn’t this a PK? Whoever loses is the other’s grandson today.”

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The force of the yank against the back of my uniform shirt made the strap of my bra snap back against my skin, the sharp sting almost making me cry out. “Pink today, huh?” Jaxson Riley’s voice, thick with a lazy sort of amusement, drifted from the desk behind me. Trevor, his shadow, immediately chimed in. “Jax is really dedicated, man. Checking your bra color every day!” A wave of suppressed, snickering laughter washed over the nearby desks. I gripped the pen in my hand, my back ramrod straight. Suddenly, a torrent of text flashed across my vision: 【OMG Jax is so smooth! Bad Boy exterior but totally a softie!】 【What is this, a high school sweet romance trope?! He teases you because he loooves you~】 【Girl, turn around and look! I bet his ears are bright red!】 I closed my eyes. These bizarre “Comments,” this digital Overlay, had started appearing about a month ago, and only I could see them. They consistently packaged Jaxson’s petty cruelty as “awkward affection” and romanticized straight-up harassment as “flirty banter.” Sweetness my ass. 1 The dismissal bell rang. I whirled around. Jaxson was leaning back in his chair, watching me with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His ear tips, sure enough, were faintly flushed. The Overlay went ballistic: 【Red! Red! His ears are red! Told you!】 【Pure-hearted School Bully x Cold Academic Girl—I could ship this forever!】 【Stop being so cold, lead female! He likes you!】 “Jaxson Riley,” I said, my voice perfectly level. “Touch me again, and I’m reporting you to the Dean’s office for sexual harassment.” The classroom fell instantly silent. The smirk froze on Jaxson’s face. Trevor was the first to jump up. “Skylar Sloane, are you crazy? Jax was just messing with you, can’t you tell?” “‘Messing with me’ by yanking my underwear strap?” I stood up, looking down at Jaxson. “Why don’t you go home and yank your own father’s briefs off, and see if he can ‘joke around’ with you so calmly?” The Overlay exploded: 【OMG the female lead is savage… but I’m kinda into it?】 【Don’t be like that, Jax just doesn’t know how to express himself!】 【Isn’t this how all campus novels start? The male lead bullies the girl because he cares!】 Jaxson shoved his chair back and stood up. He was a head taller than me, and his shadow fell over me. “Skylar Sloane, say that again?” “I said,” I enunciated slowly, “that your behavior constitutes sexual harassment. Do you need me to pull up the penal code and give you a lesson?” The Geometry teacher hadn’t left yet and looked over at the commotion. “What’s all the noise? Jaxson, get back to your seat.” Jaxson glared at me, a vicious fire in his eyes, before storming out and slamming the door. As Trevor chased after him, he tossed a parting shot. “Skylar, you are seriously ungrateful.” The Comments were awash in regret: 【Oh no, the female lead is making her path too narrow.】 【Ugh, Jax finally showed special interest in someone.】 【Am I the only one who thinks the male lead’s actions were kind of over the line? Waiting for the ‘chasing the wife to the crematorium’ arc~】 I sat back down. Hannah, my desk mate, whispered, “Skylar, why provoke him? Jaxson’s family…” “His family is rich and powerful, so he gets to harass anyone he wants?” I finished her sentence. “Does that mean the law is just a suggestion?” Hannah didn’t reply, but her eyes held a pitying expression that screamed, You are so naive. I knew all about Jaxson’s background. His father was a prominent member of the Board of Trustees, and his mother was a well-known local entrepreneur. That’s why he swaggered through the halls. Teachers turned a blind eye; classmates either sucked up to him or hid. Except for me—the transfer student who didn’t understand the “rules.” 2 The final bell chimed, and I grabbed my backpack, hurrying downstairs. In the bike racks, my old, beat-up mountain bike was lying on its side. Both tires were slashed, and all the air was gone. A Post-it note was stuck to the handlebars. The handwriting was bold and arrogant: “Wear that white blouse tomorrow. I like it.” There was no signature, but I didn’t need one. That particular white blouse was slightly sheer—enough to vaguely outline the shape and color of my bra. I hadn’t worn it since the day Jaxson loudly discussed my lingerie with his friends. 【OMG Jax is so dominant! He definitely wants to see you in white!】 【The method is a bit extreme, but this is standard procedure for a school bully novel.】 【Female lead, don’t be mad. He just wants to get your attention~】 I pinched the Post-it note between my fingers and took a deep breath. Fine, Jaxson Riley. You want to play games? “Skylar, do you need help?” Liam, the class president, walked up, pushing his bike. He frowned when he saw mine. “This is…” “Obviously intentional.” I showed him the Post-it. “Evidence.” Liam’s face was grave. “That’s Jaxson’s handwriting. I’ll go with you to the Dean of Students.” “Don’t bother,” I tucked the note into my bag. “I’ll handle this myself.” Liam looked doubtful. “Skylar, you can’t just let this go—” “I don’t plan to let it go.” I smiled at him. “But I have my own way.” The Overlay devolved into argument: 【The second male lead has appeared! Gentle Class President x Cool Academic Girl is also ship-worthy!】 【No way, I’m still rooting for Jax. That clumsy affection is so much more real.】 【Real? This is harassment, people. Can the Comments please get a moral compass?】 The next day, I wore a black T-shirt. Jaxson’s mood was visibly foul from first period. During the mid-morning break, he cornered me at the stairwell landing. “I told you to wear the white blouse. Didn’t you see the note? Do I need to help you change?” His voice was low and laced with threat. “I told you to stop harassing me. Did you listen?” I countered. Jaxson let out a dry, irritated laugh. “Skylar Sloane, do you really think I wouldn’t dare do anything to you?” “You would dare,” I nodded. “Just like you dared to slash my tires, dared to grab my clothes in class, and dared to let your flunkies spread vile rumors about me. You dare to do everything, because you’re Jaxson Riley, the Board member’s son.” He hadn’t expected me to be so direct; he froze for a second. 【Female lead is so bossy! Love her!】 【Jax is stunned, LOL. No one’s ever talked to him like that.】 【She’s playing hard to get, right? It has to be.】 Jaxson took a step closer. I could smell a faint hint of tobacco smoke mixed with his cologne. “Since you know that, stop pissing me off. I’ve been patient enough with you.” “Your patience is a semester of harassment?” I laughed. “Jaxson, maybe you should see a therapist? Your perception is severely skewed.” His eyes turned instantly cold. Just then, the PA system crackled, signaling the start of the break. I sidestepped him and walked past, dropping my voice. “By the way, your custom motocross bike is in the back of the shed, right?” Jaxson grabbed my wrist, his fingers tightening. “You touched my bike?” To Jaxson, that bike was probably second only to his father. “Why would I dare?” I yanked my hand away. “Just reminding you that the campus surveillance system was recently upgraded. High-definition.” I genuinely wouldn’t dare—that custom bike was worth a small fortune. I couldn’t afford to replace it. It was just an empty threat. He stared at me for several seconds, then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. “Skylar Sloane, you’re more interesting than I thought.” 【Here it comes! ‘Woman, you have successfully attracted my attention!’】 【Classic line, late but delivered!】 【I bet five bucks, next chapter Jax starts the ‘True Love’ route.】 I walked onto the track without looking back. 3 Jaxson’s “pursuit” intensified. My homework assignments would frequently “disappear,” only to be found in his desk, covered in ridiculous doodles. At lunch, he and Trevor would bring their trays and sit directly across from me. Trevor would loudly announce, “Jax saved you a spot, aren’t you touched?” During Physics lab, he would “accidentally” knock over my equipment, then pretend to help me clean up, his fingers deliberately brushing the back of my hand. 【Jax is so childish, LOL. Like an elementary school kid who teases the one he likes.】 【The way he looks at the female lead is different—that focused intensity.】 【When is the female lead going to realize his feelings? I’m dying here!】 I noticed a pattern: the Comments only appeared when Jaxson was actively doing something to me. I never saw them otherwise. It was as if an invisible audience was watching this “Bad Boy Sweetheart Drama” through a screen, and I was the heroine who was supposed to follow the script. To hell with the script. Wednesday afternoon was school-wide cleanup. Hannah and I were wiping down the classroom windows; Jaxson’s group was responsible for the hallway. He passed by, carrying a bucket, and “accidentally” sloshed a wave of dirty water right onto me. My skirt instantly became soaked, clinging to my body. It wasn’t cold in October, but the sticky feeling, combined with the stares from everyone around me, made my whole body prickle with raw shame. Trevor let out a wolf whistle. 【Wet T-shirt play! Jax knows how to have fun!】 【Seriously though, isn’t that going too far…?】 【Don’t worry, there’ll be a jacket-over-the-shoulders scene! Waiting for Jax’s boyfriend moment!】 Jaxson did indeed take off his jacket and started walking toward me. I didn’t wait for him to get close. I grabbed the nearest bucket—one we had just filled with clean water—and hurled it at him and Trevor. WHOOSH! Both of them were instantly drenched. The entire class fell silent. The Overlay stalled for a beat, then erupted: 【HOLY CRAP THE FEMALE LEAD FIGHTS BACK!】 【Jax’s shocked face is making my year.】 【Wait, this isn’t right! She’s supposed to shyly accept the jacket and have a moment of emotional connection!】 【The female lead’s reaction is a bit much.】 【Where did the heroic rescue scene go?】 【What heroic rescue? The male lead threw the water!】 Jaxson wiped the water from his face, his eyes dangerous. “Skylar Sloane, are you looking for a fight?” “Self-defense,” I set the empty bucket down. “Jaxson, this is the last time. If you touch me again, it won’t be as simple as throwing water.” “What are you going to do?” He smiled, a cold, empty expression. “Tell the teachers? They can’t touch me.” “I won’t tell the teachers,” I smiled back. “I’ll call the police. Sexual harassment, criminal property damage, assault. That’s enough to file charges. Do you want to find out whether your dad’s connections are stronger, or if the police department’s paperwork is faster?” Hannah tugged at my sleeve. “Skylar, stop talking…” Jaxson stared at me, water dripping from his hair. His expression was complex: anger, shock, and something else I couldn’t read. Finally, he sneered. “Fine. You win.” He spun around and walked away. Trevor shot me a venomous look and followed. 【The female lead went too far. Jax is going to be seriously mad now.】 【To be honest, calling the police is a good move.】 【But this is a campus novel! Calling the cops ruins the fun!】 【To the previous poster: in real life, you call the police when you’re bullied, no matter the ‘genre’!】 That afternoon after school, my bike tire was flat again. But this time, a hundred-dollar bill was clipped to the handlebars, along with a note: “Repair money.” No apology, just a patronizing compensation. I donated the money to the stray cat rescue box by the school gate. Then, I posted the photo of the damaged bike, the note, and the previous vandalized note and bike on the school’s anonymous online forum, with the caption: “Is this how the school’s ‘untouchables’ bully regular people?” The post immediately caught fire. Though I hadn’t named names, everyone who saw it knew who I meant. The accusations were mostly anonymous: 「Ugh, but what can you do against that little tyrant?」 「I accidentally bumped into him last month and he kicked me. I was hospitalized for a week. They’re still targeting me. Are poor people just trash?」 「I got it worse. I just made eye contact with him in the hall, and one of his goons slapped me. Said I ‘contaminated the master’s gaze’！」 「My mom bought me new shoes, and they burned several holes in them with cigarettes!」 「I want to transfer, but my parents won’t let me. I’m miserable!」 … I recorded and saved all the comments. The post lasted less than an hour before it was deleted by an admin.

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Late at night, after finishing a ten-hour surgery, my phone buzzed like crazy in my locker. It was the new intern in our department, tagging @everyone in the main hospital group chat: “I’m getting married tomorrow! Everyone must come and share the joy! No gifts needed, my husband is covering everything!” Exhausted, I replied out of politeness: “Sorry, I have plans tomorrow. Congratulations on your wedding.” The next second, she DM’d me: “Dr. Chase, don’t be ungrateful. My husband is an investor in this hospital. Do you want to lose your job?” “I already reserved a spot for you as a server at the banquet. An unwanted old woman like you just wants to come to high-end places to fish for a rich husband, right?” Then, she posted her wedding photos in the main group chat. When I saw my husband’s face kissing hers in the photo, I laughed out of anger. A trophy husband who climbed the ladder thanks to my family has the guts to keep a mistress and throw a wedding? I replied directly in the main group: “Fine. Since you don’t want gifts, I’ll send you a big surprise instead!” … I turned off my phone and went straight home. The house was a mess. My slippers were kicked aside from when I rushed out this morning. It seemed my husband, Simon, hadn’t been home either. Was he so busy planning the wedding he forgot where he lived? A poor boy who climbed up step by step thanks to the Chase family. Now, he’s the “young and promising hospital investor” in everyone’s mouth. It seems my long-term hands-off approach made him forget who he is. He really thinks he’s somebody. I sneered and dialed my family’s estate manager. “Freeze all assets under Simon’s name immediately. Cut off all his supplementary credit cards.” “Also, prepare a big gift for me. Deliver it to the wedding venue at the hotel tomorrow.” I didn’t sleep all night, but I didn’t feel tired. Instead, I felt a sickly excitement. Just as I was about to leave in the morning, Simon sent a text. “Babe, you must be exhausted from all the surgeries lately. When I get back from my business trip, I’ll give you a good massage.” “I prepared a surprise gift for you!” He pretended to be considerate as always. I replied: “Sure. When you see me, I’ll give you a big surprise too!” As soon as I arrived at the wedding venue. The new intern, Linda, was wearing a wedding dress, smugly welcoming colleagues from the hospital. “Oh, really, no gifts needed. My husband is rich; we don’t need the money.” “He’s the hospital’s biggest investor. We’re all family now; my husband will take good care of you.” Someone sharp-eyed saw me and immediately spoke sarcastically. “Oh, isn’t this Dr. Chase, the ice queen of our department? How did you find time to attend our Linda’s wedding?” “Usually, we can’t even drag you out. Showing up uninvited today… surely not just to share the joy?” A sycophantic nurse next to her chimed in: “I heard Dr. Chase is thirty and still single. She probably saw that Linda’s husband is an investor and came to dig for gold!” “Dr. Chase, you act so high and mighty in the department, but turns out you’re just like everyone else.” I couldn’t be bothered with these clowns. I pushed a gift box as tall as a person straight in front of Linda. A bloody dog’s head was hanging on the box. Linda’s face turned green instantly. “Elena Chase! What is the meaning of this? I was kind enough to let you be a server and meet some elites.” “Who are you mocking with this dog head?” I replied: “My family has a male dog in heat that pees everywhere to mark territory. Maybe he peed on you.” “Doesn’t this dog head suit you perfectly?” Hearing this, Linda started cursing: “Elena! Speak clearly! Who’s the dog? Did you come here today just to cause trouble?” “You’re just an old woman dumped by men. seeing me young, beautiful, and married well, you’re jealous!” “Let me tell you, my husband will be here any minute. One word from him and you’re out of the hospital!” I took a slow step back. To avoid her spit landing on my face. Then I tilted my chin at the tall gift box. “Alright, calm down. Time to open the present.” In front of everyone, I ripped open the packaging. Inside was a massive set of custom banners, like the ones used at funerals, but with twisted wedding wishes. Left Banner: A B*tch Matches a Dog, Forever and Ever. Right Banner: A Scumbag Matches a Wh*re, Stuck Like Glue. Top Banner: Struck by Lightning. Dead silence filled the room. Linda shook with rage: “Elena! You b*tch! Psycho!” “You’re jealous I can marry a tycoon like Simon, so you use these dirty tricks to get attention!” I picked my ear, finding her voice too shrill. “Linda, let me confirm one more time. Are you sure you want to marry this man?” She lifted her chin arrogantly: “Duh! My husband Simon is the hospital’s biggest investor, worth billions! He makes more money by lifting a finger than you, a poor doctor, will make in a lifetime!” “Marrying him makes me Mrs. Smith, someone all of you have to look up to!” The colleagues behind her nodded in agreement. “Linda was born for the rich life. Unlike some people, trying to climb the social ladder at her age.” “Dr. Chase, making such a scene today… how will you show your face in the department?” “Offending the investor’s wife… I think your career as a doctor is over!” Hilarious. Climbing the social ladder? If they knew this “ladder” was planted by my own hands, I wonder what faces they’d make. Saving lives was my only dream growing up. This hospital was a gift from my dad when I graduated medical school. Just so I could pursue my ideal in a pure environment without distractions. Simon, an investor? Just a dog I can kick out whenever I want. Seeing my silence, Linda thought I was scared. Her smugness grew. She took out her phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker. “Honey, where are you? I’m being bullied, come quick!” “That Elena from our department, she crashed our wedding and brought funeral banners to curse us!” Simon’s voice on the other end panicked: “What? Elena? Baby, don’t worry, I’ll be right there. Don’t get into a conflict!” Hanging up, Linda raised her chin even higher. “Hear that? My husband is coming! Elena, you’re dead today!” “Not only will you get fired, but I’ll also make sure you can’t work in the entire medical field!” Colleagues started pointing fingers at me. “It’s over. She pissed off Mr. Smith.” “Dr. Chase usually looks smart. Why is she so impulsive today?” “Over thirty and still fighting with a young girl over jealousy. Doesn’t she know her place? How can she compare to Linda?” Linda looked at me provocatively: “Elena, I’ll give you one last chance. For the sake of being colleagues, kneel and kowtow to apologize.” “And eat this unlucky thing. I might consider asking my husband not to kick you out.” “Otherwise, you’ll suffer!” I stepped forward, looking straight into her eyes. “Make me kneel?” “Are you worthy?” The next second, I pulled two marriage certificates from my bag and slapped them onto her face. “Open your eyes and look closely. The billionaire Simon you talk about is my, Elena Chase’s, legal husband!” “And you are just a mistress who can’t see the light of day!” The certificates hit Linda’s face and fell to the floor. Linda froze for a few seconds, then laughed exaggeratedly. “Hahahaha! Elena, are you crazy for men?” “Photoshopping fake marriage certificates to fantasize about my husband? Do you have no shame?” She picked up the certificates, didn’t even look at them, and tore them to shreds. “I heard some female doctors in the hospital are loose. Turns out it’s you!” “Knowing my husband is an investor, you lost all shame. When you see him, will you drop your pants and spread your legs?” She turned to the guests and colleagues. “Everyone, judge for yourselves! This woman relies on her seniority to forge documents and claim my husband is hers. Isn’t it laughable?” A doctor who usually sucked up to Linda stepped forward immediately. “Dr. Chase, we’ve known each other for years. I never realized you were so cheap!” “Who is Mr. Smith? How could he look at an old woman like you! I suggest you leave! Stop embarrassing yourself!” A group of people started pushing and shoving me. “Get out! Don’t dirty Linda’s wedding!” “Shameless trash!” I stumbled from the pushing, my lower back hitting the corner of a table. The exhaustion from ten hours of intense surgery made my vision go black. I held onto the wall, barely standing. Linda turned and splashed a glass of champagne in my face. “Kneel and apologize now. I might be merciful and let you keep the server job!” Just then, an unexpected person appeared. “Elena, why are you here?” I looked back and froze. It was my mentor, a titan of domestic medicine. Ignoring the alcohol on my face, I rushed over. “Professor, what are you doing here?” My mentor was the person I respected most. He wrote my recommendation letter for my studies abroad. To me, he was like a father. He patted my hand and sighed. “I heard a junior in the department was getting married, so I thought I’d come share the joy.” “I didn’t expect…” His gaze swept over the banners and Linda’s venomous face, frowning. Linda immediately threw herself at him, crying. “Professor, you have to help me! This woman is bullying me because of her seniority!” The professor was known for being protective, especially of young doctors. “Elena, what is going on? Even if there’s a conflict, you shouldn’t cause a scene at someone’s wedding.” Before I could explain, Linda accused me first. “Professor, Elena is crazy! She has a crush on my husband and came to make a scene! She even sent a dog head and banners to curse me!” The surrounding colleagues chimed in, twisting the truth. Listening to them, Professor Zhang looked at me with disappointment. “Elena, you are the backbone of our department, a role model for young doctors. How could you do something so inappropriate?” “Apologize to her and take the things away.” My heart went cold. Even my most respected teacher chose to believe the seemingly weak Linda without knowing the truth. Linda stepped forward then, smashing a wine bottle over my head. “Destroying someone’s happiness deserves lightning strikes. Didn’t you learn that, Dr. Chase?” “I’m three months pregnant with Simon’s child. It’s too late for you to try and climb into his bed now!”

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In the late 70s, the news of the end of the draft came back to our small town, along with my husband’s ashes. Mayor Higgins found me. “Sarah, legally and morally, you should go back to the city and take that university offer.” He sighed, feigning deep sorrow. “But your mother-in-law is all alone now. You have a responsibility to take care of her.” In my past life, I thought about it, my heart bleeding with guilt, and I agreed. I stayed. I served my mother-in-law until her dying breath. Only then did I learn the truth: My husband, Jack, wasn’t dead. He had simply faked his death to run off to the city, start a new life, and have children with the Mayor’s daughter. So, this time, when the ashes arrived, I went straight to the county clerk. I personally filed his death certificate and cancelled his Social Security Number. If you want to play dead, Jack, I’ll make sure you stay dead. Chapter 1 “How could this happen? He was fine when he left. I never thought that goodbye would be forever.” I swayed on my feet, looking as though grief had sapped every ounce of my strength. Mayor Higgins sighed heavily, patting my shoulder. “Sarah, I know it’s hard to accept. I watched Jack grow up. His accident… it breaks my heart too.” “But you must be strong. The town will help with the arrangements.” “I want to see him,” I sobbed, clutching the Mayor’s sleeve. “Just one last look.” The Mayor handed me the heavy urn, a single tear sliding down his cheek. “His body was badly damaged in the accident… he’s already been cremated. I’ve picked a prime plot in the cemetery. Let him rest in peace.” Holding the urn, I wept uncontrollably. My mother-in-law, Mrs. Miller, beat her chest, wailing about her poor son’s fate, looking like she might faint at any moment. We held each other and cried until the initial storm of emotions passed. Mrs. Miller leaned on my shoulder, sniffing. “Sarah, with Jack gone, you don’t need to worry about an old woman like me. You should go back to the city, enjoy your life. I can’t be a burden to you!” “Sarah,” the Mayor interjected smoothly, “while you have every right to go to college, Jack’s sudden passing leaves Mrs. Miller a widow with no son. You are her only family now. You should shoulder the responsibility.” I lowered my head, wiping away tears, but inside, hatred boiled. It was the exact same script as my last life. Back then, I gave up my scholarship to stay in this dusty town. The neighbors praised me as a saint. Mrs. Miller used her “self-sacrificing” act to guilt-trip me into staying. I worked myself to the bone. I farmed their land, paid for Mrs. Miller’s endless medication, and even started a small fish farm to make ends meet. I ruined my health before I was thirty. And for what? When Mrs. Miller finally died of old age, a well-dressed Jack appeared at the door. Beside him stood Brenda, the Mayor’s daughter, and their two children. That’s when I learned the truth. Jack faked his death to be with Brenda. Brenda took my spot at the university. They lived a life of luxury while I rotted in the countryside. I died of a heart attack from the shock before I could even scream. In my past life, I spent every second building a life for others. Thank God for second chances. Seeing I was silent, Mrs. Miller started wailing again. The Mayor opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “I understand. I can’t leave Mom alone. Let’s handle Jack’s funeral first.” They both nodded eagerly, rushing off to organize the wake. As soon as they left, I sprinted home, grabbed the family documents, and drove straight to the County Vital Records Office. “Officer, my husband passed away. I need to file the death certificate and notify the Social Security Administration immediately.” When the stamped, official death certificate was in my hand, I finally smiled. You want to be dead, Jack? Fine. Now you’re a ghost in the system. Chapter 2 With the paperwork done, I returned to the house. Neighbors had already gathered. In the center of the living room sat a table with the urn and Jack’s black-and-white photo. In our rural community, cremation was rare. People believed in a proper burial. In my past life, I wondered why Mrs. Miller cremated him so quickly without a viewing. The Mayor had claimed Jack wanted to be “modern” and spare us the pain of seeing his mangled body. I had cried at his nobility. Now, I knew it was just a way to hide an empty coffin. “Sarah, where were you? Come help,” Mrs. Miller called out, wiping her dry eyes. “I’m going to bury him in the family plot.” I nodded obediently and played the part of the grieving widow. Since it was a “tragic accident,” the funeral was simple. I wore black, held the urn, and cried my way to the graveyard. The neighbors were generous. A metal box full of cash donations sat under Mrs. Miller’s bed. In my last life, I never touched it. I worked to pay off debts while she secretly mailed that money to Jack in the city. I counted the logbook. Over a thousand dollars. In the late 70s, that was a fortune. To stop her from sending it to that cheater, I came up with a plan. Chapter 3 The next morning, I went to the Mayor’s office. I demanded widow’s benefits and, crucially, the deed to the house. The Mayor looked conflicted. The house technically belonged to Jack, and since Jack was secretly alive and with his daughter Brenda, signing it over to me felt like robbing his own future son-in-law. I turned on the waterworks. “Mayor, Jack is gone. It’s just me and Mom now. If I don’t have the house in my name, what security do I have? I’m young. If the extended family kicks me out later, I’ll have nothing!” “If I don’t get the house, I might as well remarry now while I still have my looks!” The word “remarry” terrified them. They needed me here. They needed a free servant for Mrs. Miller so Jack and Brenda could live guilt-free in the city. If I remarried and left, their plan would collapse. So, I insisted. Mrs. Miller refused at first. “This is the ancestral home!” “Then go live with your daughter, Alice,” I said coldly. “I won’t stay without security.” Alice, Jack’s sister, hated her mother because Mrs. Miller was a misogynist who treated her like dirt. Mrs. Miller knew Alice wouldn’t take her in. “Sarah, she’s your mother-in-law,” the Mayor pressured. “You can’t just leave her. The university enrollment period has passed anyway. You’re stuck here.” “I know,” I sighed. “Just see if the town can help her. I can’t do it alone.” Cornered, Mrs. Miller finally cracked. “Fine. You’re young, it’s hard for you to stay. The house is yours. We’ll sign the deed tomorrow.” I hid my smirk. The next day, with the town council as witnesses, the deed was transferred to my name. It was done. That afternoon, Mrs. Miller went to town with her metal box, presumably to wire money to Jack. I waited. That night, she kicked open my bedroom door, shaking with rage. “You… you declared my son dead?!” Chapter 4 I sat up, feigning innocence. “Yes, Mom. He is dead. I needed the death certificate to apply for widow benefits. It’s standard procedure.” The Mayor had used his connections to get the fake hospital and cremation records. Those documents were exactly what I used to legally erase Jack from existence. “You poisonous woman!” Mrs. Miller clutched her chest, gasping. “Why are you so mad?” I asked, tilting my head. “Shouldn’t a widow handle her husband’s paperwork? Unless… he’s not really dead?” She froze. She couldn’t tell the truth. “I… I should have done it!” she stammered. “You’re too old for the hassle,” I said dismissively. “Go to sleep, Mom.” I pushed her out and locked the door. I knew what happened. She tried to wire money or do something that required Jack’s ID, and was told the SSN was invalid. Deceased. Jack was now a ghost. He couldn’t legally work, rent an apartment, or open a bank account. To fix it, he’d have to come back here, reveal he was alive, and face the fraud charges. I heard Mrs. Miller sobbing in her room and laughed into my pillow. A few days later, Mrs. Miller kept running off to the city. While she was gone, I sold everything. Jack’s bicycle, the sewing machine, the radio—I sold it all to a junk dealer. When Mrs. Miller came home to an empty house, she exploded. “You witch! Are you trying to strip this house bare?” she screamed on the front porch, attracting a crowd. I sat on the steps and wailed louder than her. “I have no choice! Jack is gone, I can’t farm ten acres alone! The benefits didn’t come through! If I don’t sell this junk, we starve!” I pulled out the donation logbook. “Neighbors gave us money for the funeral, but Mom hid it all! She guards it like a dragon! I haven’t seen a dime! She’d rather starve us than spend a penny of it!” The neighbors began to murmur. “There was over a thousand dollars in that box,” one man said. “Mrs. Miller, take it out. Sarah is a good girl, she’s staying to help you.” “That’s my coffin money!” Mrs. Miller shrieked. “She cancelled my son’s existence behind my back! She’s evil!” “Mom,” I cried, “I cancelled it because he’s dead! Why do you act like he’s still alive?” The neighbors looked at her like she was senile. Defeated, Mrs. Miller stormed inside. The next morning, I packed my bag. I took the money I had stashed from selling the furniture (and the cash I swapped out of her metal box earlier) and boarded a train to the city. It was too late for the university scholarship, but I wasn’t done with Brenda.

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1 Three years after I broke up with Ethan, I returned to Riverton only to become the town’s laughingstock. They all said I was a fool who couldn’t see the diamond right in front of me, who willingly threw away the prize of a lifetime. Some even whispered that I was back to win Ethan over, hoping to use him to pull the Vance family back from the brink of ruin. The rumors swirled, growing more vicious by the day, but I paid them no mind. Then, I ran into Ethan’s protégé, Zoe, at a restaurant—the same woman who had wedged herself between us three years ago. As Zoe’s taunts washed over me, my gaze drifted past her to Ethan, who stood silently by the entrance. I decided then and there to shatter his cool composure. “Ethan,” I said, my voice clear and steady, “when have you ever known me to turn back?” … My words hung in the air, plunging the bustling restaurant into a sudden, dead silence. The other patrons, who had been eagerly watching the drama unfold, now held their breath, their eyes fixed on Ethan’s darkening expression. No one dared to make a sound. Zoe turned, and upon seeing Ethan, she flitted to his side like a hummingbird drawn to a flower. “Good that you know your place,” she chirped, her voice dripping with scorn. “You’re not nearly good enough for him now.” … She spoke with the unshakeable confidence of someone who had always been cherished by him, each word a carefully crafted jab meant to belittle me. Ethan’s eyes flickered at her words. His dark, intense gaze was like a vortex, threatening to pull me in and swallow me whole. He said nothing, simply allowing Zoe to continue her thinly veiled insults. It was a scene chillingly familiar, a perfect echo of the past three years. Ever since Zoe entered our lives, it had always been the two of them, standing together, against me. “Eleanor.” My best friend, Claire, returned to my side, her presence a solid anchor. She glanced at Zoe, who was now clinging possessively to Ethan’s arm. “Well, well,” Claire scoffed. “Look at them. The bastard and the bitch, finally a pair.” Her words sliced through the tense air, and the atmosphere crackled with hostility. “You…” Zoe’s cheeks flushed with rage. “Ethan, did you hear what she just—” she whined, tugging at his sleeve. Claire leaned in, whispering in my ear, “Disgusting.” I couldn’t help it; a small laugh escaped my lips. Ethan’s gaze snapped to me, his eyes narrowing. “Eleanor, control your friend.” His cold, commanding tone was a blade that sent me hurtling back three years into the past. Seeing him today had resurrected all the ghosts I thought I’d left behind. I took Claire’s hand and stepped slightly in front of her, facing him directly. “Ethan, you control your woman,” I retorted, my voice as sharp as his. “Don’t let her out in public if all she’s going to do is bite.” Then, I turned my head, my eyes locking with Zoe’s. “The bone you’re fighting so desperately for is one I’ve already thrown away,” I said, my voice low and cutting. “Where I stand, he’s the one who isn’t good enough for me.” With that, I took Claire’s hand and walked toward the door. As I passed Ethan, I saw the tight, white-knuckled fist clenched at his side. It turns out, words that cut deep are surprisingly simple to say. But I wasn’t just trying to hurt him. It was the truth. From the moment he started taking Zoe’s side, again and again, he had ceased to be worthy of me in my heart. The man I love can be poor, he can be unsuccessful. But he must, without question, be in my corner, always. He cannot stand with another woman, using cold logic to tell me I’m wrong. 2 “Damn, Eleanor! It’s like you went away and got a Ph.D. in clapbacks.” Claire was still buzzing with excitement on the drive home. After all, three years ago, Zoe’s taunts would often leave me speechless and fuming. This time, I was the one who left them both pale with rage. I offered a small smile, feeling myself retreat into the quiet, reserved person I used to be. Claire reached over and gently pinched my cheek. “There she is. My sweet little lamb.” Honestly, everything I’d said back there was fueled by a surge of protective anger. I didn’t care what they said about me, but Claire had stood up for me. I couldn’t let them tear her down. I didn’t need to explain that to her, though. “I guess being cooped up in the hospital for so long left me with a lot of pent-up frustration,” I said quietly. “It all just came out.” Hearing this, Claire waited for a red light, then reached over and patted my head gently. “Congratulations,” she said, her voice soft. “You finally made it back from the gates of hell.” Her words struck a chord deep inside me, and suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry. In this entire world, Claire was the only one who knew I had been sick. But three years ago, the moment the doctor handed me that diagnosis, the only person I wanted to find was Ethan. I searched for him all day. I called. I texted. I contacted his friends, his colleagues. No one knew where he was. They only knew he’d driven off somewhere with Zoe. He was unreachable. Only Claire, sensing the panic in my voice over the phone, had rushed to my side. She was the one who took me back to the hospital, who spoke with the doctors, who found out about a specialized research program overseas. By the time night fell, we were both emotionally and physically drained. And that’s when Ethan finally showed up. He saw the two of us, his expression unreadable. “Eleanor, you were looking for me? My phone died today.” Claire, incensed, lunged forward to confront him, but I held her back. “Claire, I need to talk to him alone.” Though she was still furious, she respected my wish and left. The apartment was suffocatingly quiet. Ethan stood before me. After a long moment, he came and sat beside me on the couch. The cushion sank under his weight as he pulled me into his arms. “There was an issue with some experimental data at the company today,” he began, his voice a low murmur against my hair. “It was Zoe’s section, so I went back to the lab with her to sort it out. My phone was off, I didn’t see your messages. Eleanor, don’t be angry. I’ll be more careful from now on.” His words were a dam breaking inside me, and tears flooded my eyes. I fought them back, refusing to let them fall. The scent clinging to him had changed. It was no longer his familiar cologne, but something else… laced with a cloyingly sweet fragrance, the kind a younger girl would wear. It was faint, but it made my stomach churn. But I couldn’t bear to let go. Not yet. So I said, “Ethan, Zoe has feelings for you. Can you please fire her?” He pulled away, his hands falling from my shoulders. He studied my face, and when his gaze met my tear-filled eyes, I saw his fingertips tremble. A long silence stretched between us before he finally spoke, his voice frustratingly rational. “If I fire her, she might not be able to graduate. Besides, what you’re saying… it’s just your assumption. Eleanor, I can’t ruin her life based on a suspicion.” … He kept talking, his logical explanations filling the air, but all I could hear was a dull roar as my world turned to gray. “Fine,” I said, my voice heavy with exhaustion, cutting through his monologue. “Then let’s break up.” My words stopped him cold. He left in a storm of anger, slamming the door behind him. But just before he disappeared, he shot back a furious question. “Eleanor, what’s wrong with you? When did you become like this?” He stormed out so quickly, he never heard my whispered reply. “Ethan, I’m sick.” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I curled into a ball on the couch, my body trembling as silent tears finally soaked into the pillow. In this world, nothing is less reliable than the human heart. So I refused to gamble on it, refused to bet on his loyalty. I just wanted a definitive answer. And really, all I wanted was to get rid of the woman circling my partner before I left the country for treatment. What was so wrong with that? 3 I never contacted Ethan again after that day. I moved out of the villa we shared, leaving behind every gift he had ever given me. I took only what was mine. The day before I was due to fly out, Claire asked me, “Are you really not going to tell him?” My hands, busy packing, paused for a moment. I shook my head. “There’s no point.” After she left, I sat motionless for a long time. My fingers, acting of their own accord, found my phone and opened my chat with Ethan. The screen was filled with the messages I had sent that day: [Ethan, where are you?] [Ethan, why aren’t you picking up?] [Ethan…] … Countless messages, all met with a single, hollow explanation. And that final, damning question: “When did you become like this?” The memory was a physical blow, and I doubled over, clutching my chest. Just then, my phone rang. It was Ethan. “Eleanor…” Before he could say more, Zoe’s voice cut through from his end. “Ethan, you’ve had way too much to drink.” The words I had been about to say died in my throat. I just listened, silent, to the rustle of fabric and Zoe’s concerned murmurs as she fussed over him. The call ended. I stared at the chat screen. At the top, the “typing…” bubble appeared, then vanished. Appeared, then vanished again. Finally, it disappeared for good, leaving nothing behind. In the dead of night, in those few short hours, I replayed the entire fifteen years of our history together. From my parents’ funeral, where he stood by my side greeting mourners, to his parents’ funeral, where I stood by his. In the eyes of everyone who knew us, we were already life partners, inseparable. But everything changed the moment he started arguing with me over Zoe. I had told him more than once that she was in love with him. He always dismissed it as my imagination, my paranoia. Perhaps she was just that good at hiding it in front of him. But I had seen it. I had seen the look in her eyes when she thought he wasn’t watching. It was a look of intense, burning adoration. [Ethan, I’m leaving the country.] [Don’t call me anymore.] [We’re over.] After sending the messages, I blocked him everywhere. On every platform. It was decisive, absolute, leaving no room for doubt. I was afraid. Afraid that if I left even the smallest crack open, my weak heart would betray me, and I would find myself unable to let him go. I knew, with absolute clarity, that I still loved him. But I was so, so tired. Tired of the endless fights over Zoe. Tired of watching him stand on her side, criticizing me, refuting my feelings. He said I had changed. But what woman could tolerate a rival hovering around the man she loved? When I needed him most, he was with her. When I found out from his own company that he had left with Zoe that day, I thought I was going to lose my mind. If Claire hadn’t been there to catch me, I would have collapsed right then and there. The memories replayed all the way home, a past that needed to be left behind. When I arrived, Claire asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you for your check-up tomorrow?” I shook my head. “It’s just to get my file set up. Nothing major. If there’s a real problem, I’ll have to go back overseas for treatment anyway.” I knew she had just taken on a huge new project and was incredibly busy. She was my best friend, but she had her own life to live. Claire sighed. “Okay. But you have to promise to call me if anything happens.” After she left, I stood by the door for a long time. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so alone in the world anymore. I might have lost love, but I still had my friendship. 4 On the drive to the hospital, my mind drifted back to my time abroad. During that last year, I lived completely on my own. My parents had died in a car crash, and for the longest time, I thought I’d never get behind the wheel again. But after missing the bus a few too many times, I had no choice. If I wanted to get to the research institute for my treatments, I had to drive. The first time I got in the car, my entire body trembled. I crawled along the whole way at less than 25 miles per hour. But slowly, I got used to it. The old Eleanor Vance, the one who depended on others for everything, had, step by painful step, learned to stand on her own. Now, here I was, sitting alone in a hospital corridor, clutching my latest report. The doctor said I was recovering well, but I’d need a check-up every six months to watch for any recurrence. In that moment, it finally hit me, with breathtaking clarity: I had stared death in the face, and I had won. That year of lonely hospital rooms. The three times I was wheeled out of surgery. The moments I felt myself slipping away. I survived. I wanted to smile, but tears came first. At the beginning, I had wanted to give up. Death had seemed like a release, a welcome escape. But now I knew. I wanted to live. Tears splashed onto the report, blurring the ink. In this hallway, my weeping wasn’t out of place. It was a space that held the desperate pleas of the dying and the euphoric relief of the reborn. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, a handkerchief was offered to me. Embroidered on the corner was a familiar spray of freesia. I looked up, my vision still hazy with tears. “Eleanor.” Ethan’s face was a mask of calm, but the hand holding the handkerchief trembled for a fraction of a second. I didn’t take it. I used the crumpled tissue in my own hand to wipe my cheeks. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stood up and walked past him, our shoulders brushing. “Eleanor,” he called out behind me. I was walking too fast, and his next words were lost to the sterile echo of the hallway. I had more important things to do than get tangled up with Ethan, to listen to whatever words of pity or regret he had to offer. Outside the hospital, I texted Claire the good news. She must have been busy, as she didn’t reply right away. Then, I drove to North Ridge Cemetery. At the foot of the hill, I bought two bouquets of flowers. One for my parents, and the other for his. After my parents passed, they had treated me like their own daughter. Whatever had happened between Ethan and me, I would always be grateful for their kindness. After placing the flowers on their grave, I went to my parents’. “Mom, Dad,” I whispered, wiping a fresh tear from my eye as I looked at their loving faces in the photograph. “I’m going to live for a very, very long time. That’s good news, right?” I leaned against the cool stone of the steps, imagining it was their embrace. I stayed there for a long time, until Claire finally came to find me and take me home. Before she left, I gave her a tight hug. “Claire, thank you. For always being there for me.” She pushed me away gently, her expression serious. “Don’t get all sappy on me.” I smiled, not pointing out the tell-tale shimmer in her eyes. I knew she was just as happy for me as I was. When I got upstairs, I saw him again. Ethan was waiting outside my apartment door. The truth was, Ethan and I were never the kind of people who could be severed by one person’s decision. We had known each other since childhood; our families were best friends. He knew about the properties in my name, and I knew where he lived. That’s why that first year abroad had been so excruciating. He knew exactly where I was, but he never came for me. Seeing me, Ethan’s head snapped up. The composed, indifferent façade he had worn earlier shattered completely. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hands trembling as he reached for me, yet he didn’t dare touch me. The motion-sensor light in the hallway flickered on, then off again. In the faint moonlight filtering through the window, I heard his voice, ragged and raw. “Eleanor… it must have been so hard, wasn’t it?” 5 His words stirred nothing in me. The moment I moved past him, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “Eleanor.” His fingers pressed down hard on the silver bracelet I wore, digging it painfully into my skin. I looked up at him, my voice cold. “Let go, Ethan.” The raw pain in his eyes was unmistakable, but he didn’t release me. “Ethan…” Suddenly, his other hand came up and covered my eyes. The world went black. I blinked in discomfort as his palm tightened slightly against my face. His voice was a desperate plea in my ear. “Eleanor, please… don’t look at me like that.” His words were so absurd, I almost laughed. Before I could struggle, the pressure on my wrist vanished. He let me go, but only for a second. The next moment, I was pulled into his arms, trapped in an embrace I couldn’t break. “Eleanor, Eleanor, just for a moment,” he begged, his voice muffled against my shoulder. “Just one moment.” He buried his face in my shoulder, his words choked with sobs. “I’m such a bastard.” “Eleanor, I’m so sorry.” “You were sick… and I never even knew.” “You must have been so scared that day.” His voice was hoarse, each word a tear-soaked confession. But it was all too late. Too late. The wounds had already scarred over. “Eleanor, I should have come for you.” That sentence sent a wave of profound sorrow through me. I waited for him for a whole year. For one entire year, I believed he would come. What I got instead were press photos from a new product launch, featuring Ethan with Zoe smiling by his side. Ethan had used his own company’s project as a launchpad to the heavens for her. In that single instant, my world had completely shattered. The ache where the bracelet had dug into my wrist was still there. Underneath it was an ugly scar. It was because of that scar that I had finally, truly, let him go. I had died once already, and I cherished the life I had now more than anything. Ethan’s whispered regrets continued, a litany of remorse breathed against my ear, like the most devout sinner confessing to his god. My patience wore thin. “Ethan, let me go,” I interrupted, my tone flat and hard. Perhaps it was the coldness in my voice that finally got through to him. He stiffened, then slowly, reluctantly, released me. When I met his gaze, I saw the unshed tears glistening in his red-rimmed eyes. My heart gave a painful lurch. The agony he felt for me in this moment was real. But the agony I felt three years ago was just as real. Remembering everything, a bitter smile touched my lips. I reached up and gently wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “It’s too late, Ethan.” My eyes held his, unwavering. “Your apologies, your regrets… I don’t need them anymore.” 6 “Can you believe it? Ethan actually fired Zoe.” Claire dropped the bombshell during our video call, and I could practically feel her shock through the screen. “He actually let her go? Willingly?” I was just as surprised. “Yep. And the official reason was brutal. She’s going to have a hell of a time finding another job in this industry.” Claire paused, then asked tentatively, “Eleanor…” “Stop. Just stop. Whatever you’re thinking, shut it down.” After a decade of friendship, I knew exactly where her mind was going. She was worried I’d fall for him again. She gave a sheepish laugh, backing down. “Claire, I told you that day I would never turn back,” I said, my voice firm. “I meant it.” Maybe, right after we broke up, I had my moments of regret. If Ethan had fired Zoe back then and come to me, I probably would have taken him back without a second thought. But that time passed. And my heart had long since grown cold. No miracle cure could ever bring it back to life. After we hung up, I curled into a ball on the couch. It was a habit I’d picked up during that first year abroad. Back then, I was convinced Ethan would come for me. I wanted to wait for him before having the surgery. I felt like I could only be safe if he was with me. The pain was often so bad that the medicine didn’t work. I learned to curl my body up tight, and somehow, it seemed to hurt a little less. I woke the next morning feeling completely unaffected by the news. As I was getting ready to head out for a run, I glanced at the security camera feed. Ethan was standing outside my door. As if sensing my presence, he reached out and rang the doorbell. My hand tightened on the doorknob. I didn’t want to open it. I didn’t want to see him again. “Eleanor, I know you’re in there,” his voice drifted through the small speaker, tinny and distant. “Eleanor… I was so stupid.” On the blurry screen, he gave a bitter, self-deprecating smile. “All that time… you told me over and over that Zoe had feelings for me. I never believed you.” Outside my door, his shoulders slumped, and he seemed to radiate an aura of utter defeat. “I wasn’t a good partner.” “But, Eleanor… I love you. That has always been true.” His declaration, or whatever it was, felt like a joke. When I finally opened the door, he looked up, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his pale skin. I said nothing, letting my silence be his dismissal. But he ignored it, continuing as if I’d invited him to speak. “Was it because of that day?” he asked, his voice cracking. “The one time you needed me most, and I wasn’t there. Is that why? Is that why you’ll never need me again?” His eyes pleaded with me, begging me not to confirm his fears. I let my gaze drift over the decor in the hallway. We had decorated this place together. I’d only been back a few days and had neither the mood nor the energy to change it. Traces of a younger Ethan were everywhere. I sighed softly. “It wasn’t just once.” His head shot up, his eyes wide with shock. As he stared at me in disbelief, I unclasped the bracelet from my wrist. A jagged, ugly scar was revealed beneath it. The raised, keloid tissue was a testament to how hard I must have pressed down.

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The day my childhood sweetheart and I had our worst fight, he slapped me across the face for the girl he loved. In return, I exploded and broke three of his ribs. He screamed for a divorce, but I refused. I thought we’d be stuck in this stalemate forever. But karma comes fast. Three months later, I fell hard for a sweet, innocent younger guy. He started chasing me for a title. So, I had to drag that familiar number out of my blocklist. When I called, a chirpy female voice answered: “Sarah, it’s too late. Even if you come crawling back like a dog, Luke won’t even look at you.” Facing her provocation, I said calmly, “Tell Luke I want a divorce.” The next second, the phone was snatched away, followed by a rustling noise, and then Luke’s voice, trembling with suppressed rage. He said, “Sarah, you wouldn’t dare.” 1 The year I hated Luke the most. I hit the girl he loved most, and he slapped me back, demanding a divorce. For years, all he ever said was that I should learn to be obedient, to be gentle like Chloe. This was the first time he brought up divorce. I didn’t agree. I pinned him to the floor, broke three of his ribs, and choked him until he passed out before he could say another word. Before Luke’s eyes rolled back, I left him with these final words: “Divorce? Not a chance. You want to drive me crazy? Then deal with the consequences. Chloe will be the mistress forever, and you both will live in my shadow for the rest of your lives.” Back then, I had a whole plan mapped out to torture them until death do us part. I hold grudges. Once I bite, I don’t let go. Three years of marriage. Luke turned me from a bride full of hope into a lunatic. That couple ruined me. I swore I’d spend my life making sure they never knew peace. I even bought property outside the city for a long-term war. But fate never tells you what’s coming next. I thought I’d be seeking revenge on Luke forever. But on the third day… I found a starving Liam collapsed on my doorstep. At the time, I heard Luke had woken up in the hospital, cursing me out to a room full of visitors. I excitedly put on my makeup, picked my most stunning red dress, and prepared to go enrage him further. But the moment I stepped out the gate, I tripped over a large, human-shaped object. Dazed, I turned him over and saw a young face. Liam had his luggage stolen, worked as a temp unloading cargo at a supermarket, and got scammed out of three days’ pay. He was delirious with hunger. In his daze, his hand grabbed the hem of my dress. I saw his lips moving and leaned in closer. Then I heard his faint, gasping voice: “Mom…” … After a long silence, I couldn’t help but ask, “…What?” No response. He had passed out from hunger. 2 Later, I learned why. Liam’s “Mom” was purely a hallucination brought on by starvation. When he was little, his biological mother abandoned him in a park. The last time he saw her, she was wearing a red dress just like mine. Collapsing at my door that day, seeing me squat down in my red dress through his blurry vision, he thought his mom had come to take him to heaven. When he confessed this, I threw my head back and laughed. Halfway through, realizing no one was laughing with me, I stopped. It wasn’t funny. Liam was squatting in front of me, his big, wet eyes looking at my manic face. No anger, no shyness, nothing but deep concern. He was tall—6’3″ when standing—very imposing. But his behavior was so harmless. Seeing me look at him, he got nervous, resting his chin on the sofa armrest, looking at me with those watery eyes. He said nothing, yet said everything. Realizing the malice of my laughter towards such a pure soul, I felt a pang of guilt, but I didn’t know how to apologize. Three years of a toxic marriage taught me to use aggression and shouting to mask my fragility. Three years spent entangled with Luke made me almost forget that before marrying him, I was the proudest heiress in the city. The confident, poised woman I used to be seemed buried deep in my memories. Now, I was full of resentment towards the world. I thought I’d be trapped in hate forever. But Liam reached out, pawing at my hand like a puppy. Until my palm opened, and he placed a pendant in it. It was the one Liam always wore. A gift from his parents when he was born. Back when he was loved. Later, his father died in an accident, and his mother remarried and abandoned him. This pendant was the only good memory the world had left him. But now, he took it off and placed it in my palm. He said, “This used to be the most important thing to me. Now, you are. I give it to you, hoping it makes you happy.” With that, he pushed my fingers closed around it and gently kissed my fist. It was the third month Liam had been living with me. I kept him with a mindset of amusement and manipulation, wanting to see what he wanted from me. But he did nothing. He just stood up, put on an apron, and went to the kitchen to cook me a nutritious meal. The spatula he held was the one I bought to use as a weapon against Luke’s head during our fights. In Liam’s hand, it looked small and toy-like, but his movements were agile, not clumsy at all. A smile played on the boy’s lips. Sunlight filtered through, reflecting in his light brown puppy eyes. Like a ghost possessed me, I walked up and asked why he was so happy. “Because I can cook for you.” Such a simple reason. Yet open to so many interpretations. Because someone was eating his food? Because he had a stable environment to cook in peace? Or simply because he liked cooking for me? Facing those eyes that easily saw through me, I suddenly didn’t want to dig any deeper. 3 Under my protection, Liam found a job. No one dared to bully this orphaned, honest, and kind-hearted poor boy anymore. He was nineteen. At eighteen, he got into a good college but couldn’t afford tuition. So he came to the city for work, thinking a big city meant more opportunities, only to be scammed as soon as he stepped off the train. Luckily, despite the rocky start, things were looking up. He got new ID documents, wore the clothes I bought him, and went to work full of energy every day. When he came back, he always carried bags of groceries. He thought I was too thin. When he held my slender wrists, he didn’t know how much strength to use, deep worry etched on his chiseled face. Honestly, I wasn’t petite. I even took boxing lessons to be able to punch that cheating couple, Luke and Chloe. But Liam was just too big. His past part-time jobs were all manual labor. Which meant he ate way more than the average person. So after his bag was stolen, he starved faster too. Now that he was full, he always wore a faint, happy smile. However, compared to his size, he was actually quite shy and sensitive. If I talked to him too much, he’d get embarrassed. According to his colleagues, Liam didn’t talk much at work. But no one found him hard to get along with. Because he worked all day long. His work, other people’s work—if you gave it to him, he did it. Unsurprisingly, Liam was friendly, sincere, and full of sunshine inside. Completely different from me. Current me was a bit too dark, constantly plotting how to torture my cheating husband and his little lover. Just because I missed the chance to gloat at Luke in the hospital didn’t mean I gave up on torturing him. Giving up on the man who was my childhood sweetheart for twenty-seven years, who spent his fiery youth chasing and protecting me, only to tire of me quickly after marriage and fall for a young girl who looked a bit like me. 4 I remembered the last time we met, in Luke’s office. I went to discuss divorce. Three years of marriage, but the honeymoon phase lasted only one. The remaining two years were spent in self-doubt and internal conflict. Eventually, I faced the failure of this marriage and wanted to have a proper talk with Luke. I didn’t expect Chloe to be hiding under his desk… They interacted right in front of me, exchanging glances. Treating me as part of their foreplay. Chloe even thought she was hidden well. Leaning against Luke’s leg, smiling slyly. And I, the moment Luke threw his head back with a satisfied groan, marched over, grabbed her hair, and dragged her out from under the desk. Chloe screamed as I slapped her, her pale face instantly swelling red. Behind me, Luke’s voice rang out. “Sarah.” I turned instinctively, only to be slapped so hard my vision blurred. It took me a while to recover. He looked down at me arrogantly. “Finally learned to fight for attention? Too bad, you look uglier by the minute.” Cruel words fell one after another. My world plunged into chaos and storms. I remembered when Luke first confessed to me. His eyes shining, he said, “You look like a princess when you hold your head high. I want to protect you forever.” But later: “She knows how to be submissive better than you. She knows how to please me. And you? You have to show sincerity, prove you love me more than she does.” He brought Chloe to important social events, hiding her timidly behind him. Guests whispered as we stood apart. I kept my back straight and head high, the crystal chandelier like a lonely crown above me. But when I took off my ring and walked away without looking back, he chased me, hugging me from behind in a quiet corner. “Really angry? Guess my wife does care about me.” His kisses landed on my neck, his tone lingering and ambiguous. “I just wanted to make you jealous. How can she compare to you? You’re the rose I raised myself.” He buried his face in my neck, laughing low. “You look so cute being stubborn and refusing to yield.” Back then, I thought Luke was crazy. I wanted to leave, but entangled by our families’ business interests, I endured again and again. Until they pushed too far. When I snapped back to reality, I had pinned Luke to the floor, smashing him with an ashtray, screaming, “I gave you too much face! You two hook up in front of me without shame, and you dare hit me?!” Luke’s face was a bloody mess, terrifying to look at. His little girl was huddled in the corner, trying to be invisible, terrified. “Sarah, learn to behave, or we divorce.” Even now, his eyes locked onto me, threatening. He always provoked me, then savored my breakdown from his high horse. Seeing his face twisted in pain, I suddenly laughed with relief. I said, “You know what, Luke? Intentional injury gets a heavy sentence, but domestic violence only gets a warning.” “As long as we’re married, I will torture you for life.” With that, I grinned, showing all my teeth. “Divorce? Keep dreaming.” My smile must have been maniacal because I saw clear fear in Luke’s eyes. As my hands closed around his neck, I admit I thought about dying with him. But was it worth it? Letting him die so easily? No. Yes, hatred for him was the only thing keeping me alive. I refused to look back, refused to admit my life was completely twisted. Now, I was a madwoman, a shrew. My reputation ruined, entangled with a man who didn’t love me. My hands started shaking uncontrollably again. The next second, a gentle touch met my palm. I turned and saw Liam resting his head on my knee. He gently pried open my hands, which I had clenched until my nails dug into the skin. After failing to calm me by massaging my palms or offering water, he pressed his cheek against my hand, finally pulling me out of the emotional storm. The boy stared at me with round puppy eyes, unmoving. I looked down at that face—youthful, tender, with deep features, looking a bit mixed-race. Liam was undoubtedly handsome, but his eyes were too clean, making it hard to have untoward thoughts. His cheeks and ears were red, but concern overrode his shyness. Seeing me look at him, he seemed to gather courage, took a deep breath, and pleaded, “Don’t hurt yourself anymore, okay?” Then he gently lifted my other hand and placed it reverently on his head. When Liam first arrived, his short, stubbly hair felt great to touch. Back then, I joked that the condition for him staying was letting me pet his head whenever I wanted. Now, seeing his clumsy, silly attempt to please me, seeing the clarity in his eyes, I couldn’t help but ask: “Liam, lurking by my side for so long, what do you really want?”

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I transmigrated into a high school romance novel as the home room teacher, and my first move was to break up the main couple. “No dating in this class!” I split them up, sat them on opposite sides of the room, and crushed their secret crushes. Finally, after my tireless efforts, the rebellious bad boy became a model student, and the broken girl got into Harvard. Just as I was happily calculating my bonus for being “Teacher of the Year,” the bad boy blushed and asked me: “Miss, if I pursue you now, it doesn’t count as underage dating anymore, right?” Me: ??? Then, a cold voice came from behind me. It was the girl. “Back off. She’s mine.” My vision went black… Help! How did the plot collapse like this? Chapter 1 Who can relate? Staying up all night crying over a novel. The male lead goes to jail, the female lead becomes disabled, ten years wasted, a tragedy that chills you to the bone. “What kind of trashy angst novel is this?!” I threw my phone in rage. “Stupid kids! Why don’t you just study? What’s the point of dating!” The next second, a piercing alarm rang. I groggily reached for my phone but touched an ID card instead: [Willow Mitchell, 22, Senior Class 4 Homeroom Teacher, Southside High] “Willow! Where are you?! Late on your first day?” My phone vibrated violently. The head of the department’s loud voice pierced my eardrums. Wait??? Did I transmigrate into the book? And I became the background character teacher who only exists in the protagonists’ flashbacks? “On my way!” I scrambled out the door. Damn it! Late as a student, late as a teacher? 8 AM classes are a cosmic curse! It looked like I was done for. Suddenly, a motorcycle roared past. Silver hair, full sleeve tattoos, ripped jeans, studded jacket, ear piercings blindingly bright. “Hey! Take me to Southside High!” I slapped a hundred-dollar bill on the gas tank. The boy lazily looked up. “Lady, I’m not a taxi.” I gritted my teeth and slapped another bill down. “Two hundred!” He sneered, jutting his chin toward the back seat. “Get on.” Done! I clambered onto the hard back seat. Just as I sat down, before I could find anything to hold onto… Vroom! The force threw me back! I instinctively grabbed forward! My hands landed on a firm waist and abs. Through the thin T-shirt, I could feel the muscle definition and body heat. “Tsk.” An annoyed sound came from the front. I let go instantly, clutching the seat handle for dear life. I spent the money, now I might lose my life too! The scent of mint hit my face. In the rearview mirror, his amused eyes reflected back at me. “Scared, lady?” “Shut up and watch the road.” I shakily pulled out my teacher ID and hung it around my neck. “Drive straight into the school later. Just say I’m the new teacher!” Chapter 2 At the school gate, the balding Dean was blowing his whistle like crazy. “Jagger! Late again! Where’s your uniform?” My legs went soft. I almost fell off the bike. Jagger? Isn’t this the crazy male lead from the book who goes to jail for love? The Dean’s gaze landed on me, eyebrows shooting up. “Bringing your girlfriend too? Openly dating now, huh?” “You, which class?” My PTSD from getting caught at school flared up instantly. I blurted out: “Four… Class 4.” “Why haven’t I seen you before?” Wait, no? I’m a teacher now!!! I hurriedly held up my teacher ID: “Colleague…” The air suddenly went quiet. Jagger suddenly leaned down close to my ear. “Miss Mitchell? Why didn’t you say so? I would’ve given you a discount.” His breath brushed my neck. I jumped three meters away. In the end, Jagger got detention, and I got my pay docked. Damn, what a loss! I should have just said I was a student. Chapter 3 The moment I pushed open the classroom door, dozens of eyes shot toward me. The blonde boy in the back row whistled. “Jagger brought his girl to class?” “She’s pretty hot.” Jagger threw his backpack backward without looking. “Blind? Didn’t see the teacher ID?” He sat lazily in his seat. Next to him, a girl in a faded uniform whispered with her head down: “Jagger, you’re late again…” He scoffed disdainfully. “None of your business.” I suddenly remembered. Isn’t this the tragic, bullied, pure-hearted female lead from the book?! And right now, she’s sitting next to Jagger, the walking disaster! According to the plot, this is the beginning of the tragedy! No! This ship must sink! Immediately! Right now! Nip it in the bud! I stormed onto the podium, imposing and fierce. “I am your new homeroom teacher, Willow Mitchell. In my class…” “No dating allowed!” The class erupted instantly. “What the hell? Starting with this?” “Who is she? The new teacher?” “Controlling everything, even our love lives?” Jagger leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching like it was a show that had nothing to do with him. I waved my hand grandly. “Now, we’re changing seats!” “Claire!” My voice was decisive. “You! Front row! Far left seat!” Claire’s pale face was written with shock. Finally, she silently stood up to pack her things. Her movements were careful, carrying a long-ingrained timidity. “Jagger!” I pointed my finger at the silver-haired boy next to her. “You! Next to the podium! A solo seat!” The playful smile on Jagger’s face froze. He looked at me, then at the “VIP seat” right next to the chalk tray, under 360-degree surveillance. “Teacher, I…” “Shut up! Move!” I cut him off, leaving no room for negotiation. For a troublemaker like him, you need the hardest steel! Jagger stared at me, his eyes filled with hostility narrowing. After a three-second standoff, he finally let out an extremely annoyed “Tsk.” Dark-faced, he walked toward the “Super VIP Seat.” Good. One left, one right. Separated by the podium’s blind spot, let’s see how you make googly eyes at each other! I picked up the roster, my brain rapidly recalling the character relationships from the book. Who’s secretly dating whom, who’s still lingering with an ex, who’s crushing on whom… precise strikes are mandatory! “Zack!” I called a name. It was the blonde boy who heckled earlier. “You sit next to Luna!” Luna was his ex-girlfriend. The blonde boy wailed. “Teacher! Don’t! Anywhere but there! Please!” “Shut up! Move!” I wasn’t done. I continued deploying my “battle formation.” “Ethan, sit in front of them.” Ethan was the current boyfriend. Triangle formation. Drama mode activated. Let’s see how you have fun now! My brain quickly recalled the other couples mentioned in the book, as well as those deep-hidden crushes. The principle was simple and brutal: Breakups sit together, lovers separated by a galaxy, crushes sent to opposite poles. Little brats. The rain I walked through back then, today I’m breaking your umbrellas! Let you taste the bitterness of love. Chapter 4 Under my command, the whole classroom fell into a moving frenzy. In the midst of this chaos, an accident happened. As Claire walked to her new seat holding her books, a pad hidden inside accidentally fell out. “Maxi Pad! Your big Band-Aid fell out!” The blonde boy immediately yelled out. Several boys started jeering like they were watching a show. Claire hunched her back, face pale, body trembling slightly from embarrassment. In the original story, Claire was often mocked for being well-developed, causing her insecurity. She always wore ill-fitting bras because of it. A wave of anger shot straight to my brain! I slammed the podium! “What did you call her?” The blonde boy grinned nonchalantly. “Teacher, I was complimenting her chest.” I chuckled coldly. “I see your butt is pretty big too. From now on, we’ll call you Big Butt Bro.” Silence. Then— “Pfft!” “Hahahaha!” “Big Butt Bro! Hahahaha!” “Freaking Big Butt Bro!” Roaring laughter erupted. The blonde boy’s face turned purple instantly. I looked around the room, smile gone. “Laughing? Is it funny?” My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the laughter. “From now on, in this class, if I hear anyone making jokes about someone’s body, appearance, or physiological traits—” “First time, parents called! Learn to speak like a human before coming back!” “Second time, transfer out! Class 4 doesn’t recycle trash!” The classroom went dead silent. My gaze fell on the bright pink pad on the floor. “Also, never seen a pad before? What’s so funny? Weren’t you born from a mother? Girls getting their periods and using pads is as normal as eating and drinking! From now on, if any boy dares to joke about this again—” I raised my hand, pointing at the small pad by Claire’s feet, my voice rising sharply. “I’ll have the girls stick a pad right on his face! So he remembers it well!” Silence. Then: “Good!” “Teacher is awesome!” “We support Miss Mitchell!” Many girls’ eyes were shining, looking at me with excitement and approval. Claire silently bent down, quickly picked up the pad, stuffed it into her pocket, and walked fast to her new seat. Her back was still thin, but it seemed a little straighter.

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