Category: English

During the break between classes, my desk mate nudged me gently. “Do you have… you know? Can I borrow one?” Seeing her awkward, squirming expression, I understood immediately. Just as I was about to reach for a pad, strange bullet comments—like a livestream chat—suddenly floated across my vision: [Lily, don’t lend it to her!] [The school bully is going to snatch it. Sarah won’t admit she asked for it; she’ll tell everyone the blood on the back of your pants is yours!] [Because of this one pad, in a month, you’ll go insane, and Sarah will die.] … Despite the frantic warnings floating in the air urging me to ignore Sarah, I calmly pulled out a sanitary pad and placed it squarely in front of her. “It’s the extra-long overnight kind. Don’t worry, it’s safe.” 1 Sarah Jenkins stared at the unwrapped pad sitting openly on the desk, completely frozen. I knew why she was shocked. Zach Stone, the school’s notorious bully, often led his pack of guys to make fun of girls on their periods. It had gotten so bad that girls in our class handled menstrual products like contraband—hiding them in sleeves, stuffing them in pockets, or passing them under desks in opaque black bags like secret agents. But today, I put it right there on the table in broad daylight… As if it were a pack of tissues, not a source of deep, teenage shame. “Don’t like the long ones? I have a regular flow one, too.” 2 As I reached for the second one, Zach acted exactly as the floating comments predicted. He snatched the pad off Sarah’s desk. He tore open the packaging with exaggerated excitement, shouting, “Sarah Jenkins! You need a mattress this big? Is it a crime scene down there? No wonder your chest looks bigger this week.” “Whoa, Zach, how do you know her chest got bigger?” one of his lackeys jeered. “Sarah is Zach’s childhood neighbor, how do you think he knows? Hahaha!” The boys in the class roared with laughter. Sarah clamped her legs together tight, burying her head low. “It… it’s not mine. It’s Lily’s. She’s on her period. If you don’t believe me, look at the back of her pants…” Just as the comments warned, Sarah stabbed me in the back. I felt a pang of sadness. We’d been desk mates since seventh grade. We promised to go to the same high school. I never thought she’d do this to me. “Sarah, every girl gets a period. It’s normal…” “Lily, leave me out of it! I don’t want to talk about that stuff publicly like you. It’s humiliating.” Sarah didn’t wait for me to finish. She scooted her desk an inch away, drawing a clear line between us. [I’m so mad! Sarah has no conscience. Lily tried to help her!] [Is the system glitching? Can Lily not see us? Why did she lend it to her?!] [Lily, you’ll regret this. Zach is about to give you a nickname. Everyone’s going to call you ‘Period Girl’!] Period Girl? That’s a terrible nickname. Zero creativity. I looked away from Sarah and lifted my eyelids. Zach was dangling the open pad in front of my face with two fingers, waving it back and forth. “Stand up, Period Girl. Let everyone see how dirty your monkey butt is.” 3 “Not as dirty as your mouth.” I stood up abruptly, snatched the pad from Zach’s hand, and SLAP—I stuck the adhesive side right over his mouth. “Zach Stone, since you’re so curious about feminine products, have a taste. If that doesn’t satisfy your curiosity, meet me at the girls’ bathroom after school. I’ll stuff a used one in your mouth.” A used one… The classroom went dead silent. Veins popped on Zach’s forehead. He ripped the pad off his face, threw it on the ground, and kicked my desk over. “Lily Harper! Are you crazy? I’ll beat you to death!” He towered half a head over me, eyes bloodshot with rage. The bruising on his cheekbones and the scabs on his knuckles were trophies from his street fights. In the past, if Zach looked at me like that, I would have apologized and ran. But today, I hooked my lips into a cold smile. Under the stunned gaze of the entire class, I unwrapped the second pad I was holding and smoothly slapped it onto his forehead. “Remember, I’m not Period Girl. I’m your Period Grandma!” [Did I see that right? Lily slapped him with a pad AGAIN?] [SATISFYING!!!] [Lily, you are actually unhinged. Next time a guy jokes about periods, I’m doing this!] [Period Grandma, I’m dying! Lily, you’re brave!] [Don’t celebrate too early. Zach isn’t someone to mess with. Don’t forget the ending for Lily and Sarah.] The chat cheered for a moment before turning dark again. They said that in a month, Sarah would die, I would go insane, and most of the students and teachers of 10th Grade Homeroom 3 would live in the shadow of this event forever. And it all started with this one sanitary pad. 4 Truth be told, I used to be just like Sarah. I hated my period. I hated how it embarrassed me. When I first got it in sixth grade, I thought I had a terminal illness. In middle school, the cramps made me shake. P.E. class was torture, but I was too ashamed to ask for a pass. In high school, the cramps were manageable, but the stress made my cycle irregular. Getting it during class, during exams, leaking onto the chair… I’d been through every nightmare scenario. Add to that Zach’s gang of boys. They loved bullying girls on their cycles. They’d pinch their noses and say we smelled weird, or shout “Monkey Butt” if someone leaked. My period became my monthly horror show. I had to be terrified, cautious, hiding it like I was smuggling drugs, just so Zach wouldn’t notice. Zach wasn’t like the other boys who were clueless about anatomy. He seemed to have studied menstruation. He could spot a girl with cramps. He judged who was due based on physical changes. If someone was late, he’d start rumors: “She missed a month? She’s definitely pregnant.” In reality, stress can make you miss two months easily. But Zach didn’t care. It was like he had a vendetta against every girl, nailing us to the cross of shame to satisfy his sick amusement. But is menstruation wrong? It’s a normal physiological function! Are we wrong? We’re just normal teenage girls! Everyone knew what Zach was doing was wrong. But 10th-grade girls are sensitive, and physically weaker. Most chose silence. Some told parents or teachers. But our homeroom teacher, Mr. Miller, was an old-school academic who only cared about grades. He’d talk to Zach, and nothing would change. Calling parents didn’t work either. Zach’s dad was even more unreasonable than Zach. I heard his dad once yelled at Mr. Miller, calling menstruation “filthy, unlucky, and disgusting.” He even scolded parents in the group chat for letting their daughters take sick leave for cramps: “There are men in this group! Just say she’s sick. Why do you have to force us to know about her cycle?”

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Chapter 1 My husband found himself a wealthy sugar mama and started secretly funneling money to me every few days. In six months, he transferred me a cool $850,000. I was seriously considering divorce. Then I thought about it. Screw that! Why even consider it? Every second I hesitate is an insult to cold, hard cash! A “family man” who brings home the bacon like this is harder to find than a parking spot in Manhattan. Why not let him hustle a little more? … Melanie slapped me across the face, hard. My cheek burned instantly. “Are you crazy?” I looked up at her, clutching my face, totally bewildered. “Chloe! You liar! Are you and your husband running a scam on me together?” Before I could process what was happening, my coworkers swarmed around us. “Who are you? Why did you just hit her?” She pointed a manicured finger at my nose and started screaming. “Your husband, Zack, used my credit card to transfer money to you. $850,000 in six months! Don’t act like you didn’t know!” I froze, then realized who she was. This was my husband’s side piece. The “Mistress.” She grabbed my collar, her eyes wild. “You two scumbags! $850,000! Do you think I’m an ATM? Using my money to clear your shopping cart?” With that one line, I became the center of attention. My coworkers immediately switched into gossip mode, phones out, recording everything. Melanie slapped me again, so hard I fell to the floor. She shouted to the crowd, “Look at this! This woman is a fraud! She and her husband are con artists!” She was screaming and trying to hit me again. My coworker, Lisa, stepped in. “That’s enough! We know Chloe. She wouldn’t do that! We’re calling the police!” “Call them! Go ahead!” Melanie laughed like a maniac. “I want to see how she explains this to the cops! Daring to spend my money… I’ll knock your teeth out or my name isn’t Melanie!” She was thrashing like an angry octopus, trying to claw at me. My coworkers held her back while she shrieked. I smoothed my messy hair and stood up from the floor. Calmly, coolly, I spoke. “Ma’am. You claim my husband and I are scamming you. But I don’t even know who you are. So please, tell me, how exactly did I scam you?” She glared at me, trembling with rage. “Don’t play dumb! You know exactly what my relationship is with your husband!” I gasped, covering my mouth in mock surprise. “What is your relationship?” Melanie blushed, looking around guiltily at the crowd. “It doesn’t matter what our relationship is! You stole my money, and today you’re going to pay me back!” I stared straight into her eyes. “Are you the mistress my husband has been keeping on the side?” Hearing that, she exploded and rushed at me. “Bullshit! He keeps me? He’s a broke driver! He has money to keep me? I’m the one keeping him!” The crowd gasped in unison. I didn’t panic. I just smiled faintly. “So, you admit you’re having an affair with my husband?” She choked for a second but doubled down. “So what if I am! Zack, that dog, spends my money, drives my car, and even uses my money to support his wife!” Satisfied, I pulled out my phone. “I’ve recorded everything. I’ve also called the police for assault. My coworkers are witnesses.” “See you at the station.” Hearing I was going to sue her, Melanie went berserk and raised her hand to hit me again. Chapter 2 The police arrived just in time, and we were all hauled into squad cars. At the station, before we even sat down, she started making a scene. She claimed she was swindled out of money and love. She pulled out chat logs and transfer records with my husband, Zack, trying to prove we were in cahoots. “Officer, look. I buy him houses, I buy him cars, and he gives all the money to this woman! How could he do this to me?” Tears streamed down her face. She was genuinely heartbroken over Zack’s betrayal. But the officers just stared at her blankly. They looked at her like she was an idiot. She claimed Zack and I scammed her. But the evidence she provided proved she was having an affair with Zack. And she knew he was married. A homewrecker knowingly wrecking a home, and then coming to harass the wife? Mistresses these days are bold. The officer deadpanned, “We don’t handle relationship disputes.” She jumped up, frantic. “His husband is using my money to support her! Isn’t that illegal?” Just as she was about to throw a tantrum, Zack arrived. The moment Melanie saw him, she lunged and started pummeling him. “Zack! You bastard! You lied to me!” She started sobbing hysterically. The station was in chaos. The police finally pulled them apart. Zack, face scratched up by Melanie’s nails, snapped at her. “Melanie, are you insane?” “You call me insane? Did a dog eat your conscience? I treated you so well, and you went behind my back and gave all my money to this woman!” Zack didn’t even blink. “Stop screaming! She’s my wife. If I don’t give the money to her, who should I give it to?” I watched from the side, jaw on the floor. That was a new one. He saw me standing there and immediately rushed over, fawning. “Babe, are you okay? Did you get hurt?” Seeing the mark on my face, his distress was palpable. He turned and roared at Melanie. “Melanie! Look what you did! I told you! Don’t bother my wife! And you still came here!” Melanie lost it. “Zack! How can you treat me like this? Are you even a man?” “Yesterday you were holding me, telling me you loved me, that you wanted to marry me. If I hadn’t found out you were transferring my money to your wife… you bastard, were you planning to empty my bank account?” “You believed me when I said I loved you?” Melanie wept, heartbroken. “You said you had no feelings for your wife! You said she was a nag, not understanding like me!” “You said she was boring in bed! Just lying there like a dead fish! Not like me… passionate, skilled…” “Shut up!” Zack turned beet red and shouted. “Have some shame!” “I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t love you at all! I was with you to get some cash!” “You were the stupid one throwing yourself at me!” “I only love my wife. Stop making a scene!” He grabbed my hand and tried to drag me out, leaving Melanie standing there in shock. Chapter 3 The moment we got home, before even taking off his shoes, Zack dropped to his knees on the living room tiles. Thud. “Honey, I was wrong. Truly.” I stood in the kitchen pouring water, ignoring him. “I’m scum. I shouldn’t have let you suffer like this. I was confused, blinded by her money. I didn’t want her body or her face. She chased me! She tempted me with money…” He was crying now, begging. I didn’t know how to react. He cheated on me. But he also funneled every cent of the mistress’s money back to me. “So, should I give you a ‘Best Husband’ award?” His face went pale. “It was an impulse. A mistake any man could make…” The bedroom door opened. My in-laws rushed out. “You idiot!” My mother-in-law smacked the back of his head. “You have a good home, and you go out and mess around?” They didn’t know the details, but seeing Zack kneeling meant he screwed up big time. Zack’s career had been stagnant for years. I carried this family. They didn’t dare cross me. After a lecture from his parents, Zack spilled the beans. A year ago, Zack got a job driving for a rich guy. In the last six months, he transferred me a total of $180,000 (part of the larger sum Melanie claimed). I asked where it came from. He said his boss liked him and gave him stock tips. Turns out, he was being a sugar baby. Melanie was a sugar baby for a rich old man, and she turned around and became a sugar mama for Zack. My in-laws were furious. My mother-in-law cried, “You useless thing! Earning dirty money like that!” Zack hung his head, face red. “I know I messed up. But I was just greedy. I never thought about divorce. I don’t have feelings for that woman!” “No feelings, but you slept with her? Couldn’t control your zipper?” My mother-in-law raised her hand to hit him again. Zack covered his head, making excuses. “She forced it… she said I was good in bed… she said her old sugar daddies were useless, keeping her like a bird in a cage! She was lonely! She threatened suicide if I didn’t stay…” I laughed coldly. “Wow, you’re popular.” He crawled over and grabbed my pant leg. “Chloe, I swear. I never wanted to leave you. I saw she had money. I’m useless, I can’t earn much. You work so hard to support us. I just wanted to help you…” Right. So I really should give him an award. Selling his body to feed his wife. Kissing me by day, servicing a sugar mama by night. A martyr of capitalism. “Okay,” I looked down at him. “So tell me. She’s suing us for fraud. She wants the money back. What do we do?” Zack stiffened his neck. “Who cares! She gave it willingly! I earned that money! Why give it back?” I told him to get up, but he hugged my leg tighter. “Honey, if you don’t forgive me, I won’t get up. What do I have to do?” I lowered my voice. “I can forgive you. Unless…” Chapter 4 I knew something was up six months ago when Zack sent the first transfer. He said his boss gave him a stock tip that made $15,000. I believe in bird sh*t falling from the sky, not free money. I thought he was doing something illegal. I was anxious for days. Then I checked his phone while he slept. I found the texts with Melanie. I have to admit, Zack provides excellent emotional value. That’s why I married him. He’s attentive. With Melanie, he was a master. He had her hooked in three sentences, sending him money and kissy emojis. The funny part was, Zack immediately transferred the money to me. My first instinct was divorce. My best friend, Sarah, called me an idiot. I argued, but she rolled her eyes and asked: “That necklace you’re wearing. How much?” I paused. “$4,000.” “The bracelet?” “$800.” “The bag?” My mouth twitched. I couldn’t help but smile. She grinned back. “Get it now?” My gloom vanished. “Look at you. Decked out in designer gear in just a few months.” I drank my juice, praising Sarah’s wisdom. “You’re not doing bad either!” Sarah stared at me. “Think of it as putting Zack’s ‘idle asset’ to work. Creating revenue for the household. It’s brilliant!” I nodded. “Makes sense.” She laughed wickedly. “If it were me, I’d serve that mistress so well she’d be begging to send more money.” I raised my glass. “To you. For waking me up.” “What else do you need?” She asked, eyes gleaming. I pretended to think. “I need a car. An Audi A6.” … A month later, money for an Audi A6 hit my account. I pretended not to know the source, happily accepting it and moving it to a separate account. I made Zack soup, rewarding him for his “hard work.” Zack drank the soup, moved to tears. He was used to chasing me. When I was nice, he melted. “Honey, you’re so good to me,” he sniffled. I smiled. Not as hard as you work, taking the night shift. When I told him my plan—fake divorce so he could go back for one last score—Zack cried. He hugged me, sobbing. “Honey, you still haven’t forgiven me! I was wrong… I won’t do it again…” I pushed him away, fighting the nausea. “I don’t blame you. Really!” He swallowed hard. “Are you serious?” “Of course.” I handed him a slice of apple. “We get a fake divorce. You go coax her, make up, and keep the money flowing.” He stared for a few seconds. “You… aren’t afraid I’ll actually run off?” I laughed. “Would you?” He shook his head violently. “Never. I’ll never leave you.” I leaned back on the sofa. “Melanie is a gold mine. A walking wallet. We need to think about the future. Do you think $850,000 is enough? Is it enough to raise a kid for ten years? No.” He was silent, eyes red. “Zack, I’m planning for us. For our family. The opportunity is right there. It’s up to you.”

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The new A-list actor, Asher Flynn, publicly called me out, slamming me for being shameless and chasing clout. The trending topics exploded for three days straight. My DMs were flooded with mock funeral wreaths sent by his fans. I was being cyberbullied to the point of wanting to delete all my accounts and quit the industry. I was just about to find my online boyfriend to cry to. But before I could even type, he sent me a screenshot, followed by a whiny, self-pitying voice note. “Babe, some D-list actress is trying to score points with me! I’m furious!” My hands trembled as I clicked on the screenshot. There, in stark white text, was Asher Flynn’s comment tearing me down: “@Rowan—stay in your lane. You’re sickening to look at.” Wait. No. The gentle, attentive online boyfriend who tucked me in every night… Was actually the A-list actor, Asher Flynn? This relationship just hit a dead end. 1 Asher’s messages kept flooding in. “Babe, why aren’t you answering me?” “Did you see that trending topic, too? Don’t believe it for a second. I have absolutely nothing to do with that Rowan girl.” “Her profile picture is clearly a rip-off of yours, a cheap knock-off. Ugly people always try too hard.” “If my manager hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve sent two more tweets to knock some sense into her.” My fingertips went numb looking at the relentless stream of messages. Ten minutes ago, I was sobbing hysterically because of Asher’s tweet. He said I was desperate for attention, that I was calculating, and that just seeing me made his stomach turn. The entire internet was laughing at me; his fans had cursed my ancestors. I had even drafted my retirement statement, planning to move back home and sell artisan coffee from a food truck. And now, the man who caused all this mess was using a pink-and-blue teddy bear couple’s avatar and texting me, begging for affection. “Babe?” He sent another voice note, his voice deep, gravelly, and laced with a pathetic neediness. “Don’t be mad, I only slammed her to prove my loyalty to you.” Proving his loyalty by tearing me to shreds? I took a deep breath, my fingers shaking as I typed: I’m not angry. Asher replied instantly: “Thank God! You scared me. I thought you misunderstood that I had something going on with that flop. That kind of woman? I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.” “…” I looked at my reflection in the mirror—eyes red, hair a mess. “Babe, I have to film a reality show tomorrow. It’s going to be busy, so I won’t be able to reply right away.” “And that Rowan girl is apparently going to be there, too. Seriously bad luck. Don’t worry, babe, I promise to stay miles away from her tomorrow. She won’t get a single drop of my limelight!” Asher sent another heads-up. But tomorrow? Wasn’t that the day we were both scheduled to be on The Ultimate Challenge? I had held onto a sliver of hope, thinking I might use the show as a chance to explain things to him, or maybe just apologize for the ‘clout-chasing’ accusation. Now, it looked like I was walking into a firing squad. If he ever found out that the ‘Babe’ he cooed to every night… was Rowan, the actress he publicly despised. The image was too awful to contemplate. He would likely feel betrayed, and his disgust for me would only intensify. Okay, you do your thing. I hit send, then flipped my phone face down on the table. My manager, Brenda, pushed the door open, her face etched with worry. “Rowan, are you still going to the set tomorrow? Asher Flynn’s team is putting out feelers—he doesn’t want any interaction with you. And the network will definitely play this up for ratings.” I gave a bitter laugh. “The contract breach fee is three hundred grand. Can I afford that?” Brenda sighed. “Right. Just keep a low profile tomorrow. Try to avoid him. Don’t give him any more ammunition.” I doubted I could avoid him. “Brenda,” I suddenly asked, “if… and I mean if… I wanted to quit, could I pay the termination fee in installments?” Brenda’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy? Because of this? Hey, being a villain is still being famous!” I didn’t answer. This wasn’t about being famous, even if it was infamous. This was about total, public humiliation. If my identity was revealed tomorrow, my career in Hollywood was over. Worse, Asher’s fans might actually tear me to shreds. I picked up my phone again and tapped on Asher’s profile. That pink-and-blue teddy bear avatar suddenly felt like a punch to the gut. I had to end it. But before the breakup, I needed to survive tomorrow’s show. I could not let him recognize me. As long as I denied everything, he would never know his ‘Babe’ was me. With a resolved mind, I locked down all my social media accounts and changed my profile picture to a solid black square. Asher sent a stream of question marks: “Babe, why the new picture?” I replied: I’m in a bad mood. I’ve gone dark. He sent a ‘big hug’ GIF: “Who upset you? Tell me, I’ll go rip them a new one!” I stared at the screen and forced a smile. It was you who upset me. Weren’t you cruel enough already? 2 On the set of the reality show. I huddled in a corner, trying to shrink into invisibility. Asher Flynn walked in, the center of attention. He looked impossibly handsome in a black outdoor jacket, the kind of man you couldn’t tear your eyes from. But the air pressure around him was freezing. His face clearly screamed, “Do not approach.” He walked right past me without stopping, not even sparing me a side-glance. Sierra, the current “It Girl” and another female guest—and, in Asher’s fans’ minds, the only acceptable girlfriend—smiled sweetly at the sight of him. “Asher, long time no see,” Sierra greeted him with a sugary voice, naturally shifting closer to him. Asher gave a noncommittal grunt. His attitude wasn’t exactly warm, but he didn’t push her away either. Sierra then turned to me, her face plastered with an impenetrable fake smile. “Oh, look, isn’t this Rowan? After yesterday’s blow-up, I honestly thought you’d be too embarrassed to show up today.” Her voice was just loud enough for everyone around to hear. All eyes instantly pivoted to me. I clenched the hem of my jacket. “I signed a contract. Of course, I’m here.” “Right. Well, this might be your last time on a high-profile show like this,” Sierra said, covering her mouth with a delicate laugh. “You have to seize the chance to get as much screen time as possible.” I didn’t take the bait. The less I said, the better. Asher suddenly spoke up. “What’s with the small talk? Can we be professional?” Sierra instantly nodded submissively. “Asher’s right. Let’s run through the notes.” She shot me a smug, victorious look. I looked down, pretending to read the script. But I couldn’t process a single word. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I sneakily pulled it out. A text from Asher. “Babe, I’m here. That Rowan girl is here too, of course. Annoying.” “She tried to talk to me just now, but I totally ignored her.” “You can’t give people like that an inch. They just take advantage.” I was speechless. Wait! When did I try to talk to him? He was the one who walked past me! Did this man have two separate personalities? High-and-mighty movie star in real life, petty, gossipy boyfriend in our texts? I took a deep, steadying breath and replied: Mhm, you did the right thing. Asher shot back instantly: “I know, right? I have to keep my virtue safe. Besides you, I don’t want anything to do with anyone else.” Reading that, my heart ached with a complicated mix of emotions. If you ignored the reality, he was truly the perfect boyfriend. But reality was staring me right in the face. The director yelled into a megaphone: “Places, everyone! We’re going live! The first segment is drawing lots for teams!” My heart dropped. Please, please, not with Asher Flynn. Please, no. But Murphy’s Law never fails. When I pulled a red ball from the box, Asher was holding a red ball, too. A dead silence fell over the stage. The live comments were probably in a frenzy. Sierra’s smile froze, quickly replaced by a pitying look directed at Asher. “Asher, looks like you got the short straw.” Asher stared at the red ball in his hand, his brows tightly knitted. He didn’t even look at me. He just raised his hand and asked the director, “Can we redraw?” The director awkwardly wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Mr. Flynn, we’re live… those are the rules.” Asher let out a cold laugh and tossed the red ball onto the table. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” I stood there, so mortified I didn’t know where to put my hands. Sierra sidled up to me and lowered her voice. “Rowan, if you had an ounce of self-respect, you’d ask to drop out. Don’t drag Asher down.” I looked up at her, my eyes filled with false hope. “Drop out? Will you cover the breach fee?” Sierra choked on her words, then glared at me fiercely. “Clingy.” The light in my eyes dimmed. Sigh. The teams were set; there was no changing it. Asher walked up to me, looking down. It was the first time he had truly looked me in the eye today. Those beautiful eyes were devoid of warmth, filled instead with pure aversion. “Rowan, right?” “Don’t even think about pulling any stunts in this team. I won’t fall for it.” “And, stay away from me.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me with only his cold back. I stood rooted, watching him go, the image of my “perfect boyfriend” shattering piece by piece. The phone in my pocket vibrated again. “Babe, I’m so angry! I’m teamed up with that disaster!” “I definitely didn’t check my horoscope today!” “I swear I’m not helping her in the game. I’m going to let her look like a fool on her own!” Reading those two texts, I suddenly felt too drained to reply. Asher Flynn. You’re truly something else. Since you hate me this much, I don’t need to hold onto any more fantasies about you. As soon as this show is over, we’re done. 3 The game was a “three-legged race” through an obstacle course. The game required extreme coordination and physical contact. The producers were clearly doing this on purpose. A staff member came over with a strap to tie one of my legs to one of Asher’s. Asher took a step back, a look of complete revulsion on his face. “Can’t we do something else?” “Mr. Flynn, these are the rules…” the staff member stammered. Asher frustratingly ran a hand through his hair but finally extended his leg. “Don’t tie it too tight,” he said sharply. The staff member’s hands were shaking, and he tied the strap loosely. I moved my leg close. Before I could even brush his pant leg, he flinched back as if he’d been electrocuted. “Don’t crowd me.” I stared at him. Dude, it’s a three-legged race. How are we supposed to run if we’re not close? The live chat was probably having a field day. LOL, the A-lister’s entire body is screaming NO. Can Rowan please back up? Don’t touch our king! Asher Flynn: Back the F* Off!** The race started. The other teams were calling out rhythms and charging forward smoothly. Sierra’s team was perfectly coordinated and already far ahead. Only our team was a total mess. Asher would step with his left foot, and I would step with my right. He walked too fast, and I couldn’t keep up. Before we’d gone two steps, I stumbled and nearly fell. I instinctively reached for his arm to catch my balance. The instant my hand touched his sleeve, he ruthlessly shrugged me off. “Don’t touch me.” With that jerk, I lost my center of gravity and went crashing to the ground. My knee smacked hard against the concrete. The pain shot through me. Due to the strap, Asher was pulled off balance momentarily, but he quickly steadied himself. He looked down at me. He didn’t offer a hand. Instead, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Can you manage this or not? Don’t force it if you can’t.” His voice was dripping with contempt. I lay on the ground, my knee throbbing, tears stinging my eyes. The humiliation was overwhelming. The man who texted me, “Babe, if you scrape a tiny bit of skin I’d be heartbroken,” was standing right there, watching me fall, and his only concern was that I would slow him down. Sierra crossed the finish line, looked back, and dramatically shouted, “Oh my God, Rowan, why did you fall? Were you trying to get Asher to carry you?” A chorus of chuckles erupted around us. I gritted my teeth, pushed myself up, and stood without his help. The skin on my knee was broken. Asher glanced at the wound. His frown deepened, but he still didn’t move. “Can you still walk?” he asked. “Yes,” I snapped back. “Then hurry up. Don’t waste any more time.” The rest of the course was pure torture. He completely ignored my pace, only focusing on his own forward momentum. I was dragged, stumbling and nearly falling with every step. I felt like I was walking on broken glass. We finally crawled to the finish line. Unsurprisingly, we came in dead last. The moment the strap came off, Asher leaped two feet away from me. Then, in front of everyone, he pulled out an antiseptic wipe and meticulously, carefully, scrubbed the sleeve of his jacket where I had touched it. He then tossed the wipe into a nearby trash can. The gesture wasn’t physically harmful, but the insult was maximum. I stood there, staring at the trash can, my heart completely hollow. Sierra came over and handed Asher a water bottle. “Asher, that must have been rough. It’s hard carrying dead weight.” Asher took a long drink, said nothing, but his silence was confirmation enough. Sierra turned to me, her smile triumphant. “Rowan, don’t feel too bad. The gap in skill is obvious. It’s totally normal that Asher couldn’t carry you.” I ignored her and turned to find a staff member for a bandage. My phone vibrated again. I hid in the corner to check it. “Babe, we lost.” “That Rowan girl is as clumsy as a wild boar. She can’t walk straight, and she kept trying to pull on me.” “She almost made me fall. She’s a total jinx.” “But don’t worry, I didn’t touch her once the whole time. My loyalty is absolute!” Reading those words, a wave of nausea hit me. Sickening. It was truly sickening. I shoved the phone back into my pocket. I didn’t want to look at it again. The host walked onto the stage with a note card. “Alright, the results are in! The last-place team must now face the forfeit!” The crowd cheered. Everyone was waiting to see how Asher would humiliate me next. The host’s eyes bounced between Asher and me, finally landing on Asher. “Mr. Flynn, according to the rules, the losing team must play ‘Truth or Dare’.” Asher casually adjusted his cuff. “I’ll take the Dare.” The host grinned widely. “Wonderful! The Dare is…” “You must call the person you’ve contacted most recently in your phone book—of the opposite sex—on speaker, and say, ‘I love you!’”

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At 3 PM, my newly hired colleague, Liam (who went by “Lia” at the office), suddenly tagged me in the company-wide Slack channel with hundreds of people: @SarahVance: You btch in cubicle 203, can you stop banging on your keyboard? The vibration is giving me cramps!* @SarahVance: My baby is sleeping in my belly right now. If your noise gives him a concussion, I will make your whole family pay! I hurriedly explained that I was rushing a proposal due EOD and that I was using a silent mechanical keyboard. But he refused to believe me. I patiently explained multiple times. To avoid conflict, I even applied to work from a desk in the hallway. Unexpectedly, a week later, he barged into the breakroom with a freshly boiled kettle of water and poured it over my head. I collapsed in a pool of scalding water, skin peeling. He still疯了一样 (like a madman) smashed my head with his high heel, screaming hysterically: “It’s all your fault! I miscarried! Your keyboard noise killed my son!!” My vision blurred, and I lost consciousness—dying without understanding how a silent keyboard could kill anyone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he cursed me out in the group chat. Facing his familiar abuse, I didn’t back down. I directly questioned him in the group: “What kind of pregnant woman are you pretending to be? If you pulled it out, your d*ck would be bigger than mine!” 1 After I sent the message to the group, the chat, which had been buzzing with hundreds of people discussing projects, went dead silent. A few seconds later, Lia’s messages flooded the screen like a broken dam: @SarahVance: What kind of bullst are you spouting, you dirty whre? I’m three months pregnant! I have the ultrasound right here. How dare you slander me?! @everyone: Come look at this! Sarah in 203 is jealous because she can’t lay an egg herself, so she can’t stand seeing others have babies! @HR @CEO_Zhang: There’s a person like this in the company! I’m calling the police! This is defamation! This is a personal attack! Lia threw a tantrum, crying and screaming. Immediately, colleagues stepped up, pointing their spears at me. Karen from Design: Sarah, that’s too much. How can you talk to a pregnant woman like that? Your mouth is poisonous! Another colleague tried to mediate: Lia, calm down. Don’t get angry for the baby’s sake. Sarah was probably just joking. Lia wasn’t having it: Joking? Is this something you joke about? What do I have to say to her? She’s just jealous I married well and have my husband’s seed in my belly! My pregnancy is high-risk! The doctor specifically ordered bed rest and quiet! But this slt keeps typing like she’s operating a jackhammer! If anything happens to my baby, I’ll skin her alive!* Other colleagues on the floor started chiming in: Exactly. Lia said she’s not feeling well. Can’t you be quieter? It’s already afternoon. Can’t you submit that proposal tomorrow? Why antagonize a pregnant woman? Reading these black-and-white distortions, I laughed out of pure rage. In my past life, this was how they pushed me into a corner step by step. I explained over and over that I used a silent keyboard. To avoid disturbing her, I even took my laptop to work in the stairwell. But what I got in return was her scalding me from head to toe with boiling water. Before I died, with my skin boiled off and my skull crushed by a high heel, Lia’s crazed face was the last thing I saw in this world. I closed my eyes. The searing pain of boiling water seemed to brand my soul. Anger and hatred crashed against my chest. Lia was still frantically tagging me in the group: Cat got your tongue? Why aren’t you talking, you btch? Guilty?* Did you do it on purpose? You don’t want me to have a good life, right? I finally got pregnant, and you just have to kill my son, don’t you? If anything happens to him, can you afford to pay? Will you pay with your life? “Pay with my life?” “Pay for the turd you’re going to birth?” I stared at those words, unable to suppress my fire any longer. I sent a voice message directly to the group, my tone icy: “Fine. Come over here right now. As long as you dare to drop your pants in front of the whole company, I, Sarah Vance, will jump out this window right now to pay for your son with my life!” 2 My voice message made the entire company explode. The group chat was silent for a full minute. Then, a commotion erupted from the direction of my cubicle. I looked up and saw Lia clutching her belly, supported by several female colleagues, marching towards me with red-rimmed eyes. “Sarah!” Her voice was shrill, laced with tears, as if she had suffered the world’s greatest injustice. “How can you be so vicious? How did I ever offend you for you to humiliate me like this?” “I’m carrying a boy! He’s the only heir for generations in our family. Can’t you just tolerate him?” The female colleagues beside her immediately jumped to her defense: “Sarah, you’re inhuman. Lia just joined the company, why are you bullying her like this?” “Exactly! Won’t you have children yourself one day? Can you bear to see your own child cursed like this?” “Messing with an unborn baby? Aren’t you afraid of karma?” Lia was still dry heaving, acting her heart out. Tears came on command as she leaned weakly on a colleague: “I’m going to kill you… You ruined my innocence… I’m going to kill you…” His crying was piercing, stimulating my eardrums and my memories of the past life. Thinking of how I was tortured to death by this gender-confused maniac, my body couldn’t stop shaking. Hearing him say he wanted to kill me, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I stood up abruptly, shoved the female colleague aside, and grabbed him by the collar. “Kill me? You already killed me once in my last life!” “Act! Keep acting! Where’s your belly? Where’s the ultrasound? Show me!” He was frightened by my aura. After freezing for a few seconds, he suddenly clawed at my face. I dodged sideways and tripped him precisely. Thud. He fell face-forward onto the floor. Recalling the agony of boiling water pouring over me in my past life, rage consumed my heart. I stepped on his back, grabbed his silky wig, and smashed his face into the floor. “Keep pretending! Keep acting! Let’s see what kind of thing you really are today!” Lia was pinned down by me, screaming like a slaughtered pig: “Ah! Help! Sarah’s crazy! She’s killing people! My belly… my baby…” His shrill screams attracted more colleagues. Everyone rushed up, pulling us apart. Two male colleagues held me back. I was still panting. Calculating the time, I had only been reborn for half an hour. That means, half an hour ago, I was murdered by this monster in front of me! How could I be calm?! But after pulling me away, the crowd pointed fingers at me: “Sarah, are you insane! It started with your foul mouth, and now you dare to hit a pregnant woman?” “How did we not notice before that our company had such a vicious woman like you!” “I’ve called security! If you dare move again, we’ll call the police directly and let them handle you!” 3 Freed from my suppression, Lia became arrogant again. He was helped up, clutching his belly, crying and pointing at me: “Everyone saw it! She’s jealous of me! She wants to kill my child!” He stumbled towards me, raising his hand to slap me. I wanted to fight back, but I was firmly held by the male colleagues. “Still want to fight?! Can’t you behave?” Seeing I couldn’t move, a smug grin appeared on Lia’s face, and his insults became nastier: “You rotten goods who can’t lay an egg! You should just rot in the ground!” Other colleagues also criticized me for lacking empathy. Karen, who spoke up earlier, comforted Lia while glaring at me hatefully: “You’re an adult, have you no shame? Making a pregnant woman this upset over a proposal, what is your heart made of?” “It’s hard enough for Lia to work while pregnant. If something happens to her because of your tantrum, can you take responsibility?” I struggled, trying to break free, and shouted back: “I’ve explained a dozen times, I use a silent keyboard! How did I disturb him? Telepathy?” “Besides, he says he’s pregnant. Has anyone seen his prenatal checkup reports? Has anyone seen his husband pick him up?” My words made a few people pause, doubt creeping into their eyes. Lia immediately pulled a crumpled paper from his bag: “This is my ultrasound! It clearly says 12 weeks pregnant!” I sneered: “Just now you said my keyboard sounded like a jackhammer and gave you cramps. Now you’re jumping and screaming here, and your precious son is suddenly fine?” Everyone froze. Karen muttered to herself: “Yeah, when I was pregnant, let alone fighting, even a loud noise made my heart race… Is Lia’s fetus made of steel?” Security arrived just then, seeing the tense situation, they quickly interjected: “Everyone calm down! Talk it out!” Lia, who was arrogant just a moment ago, suddenly covered his mouth and started dry heaving. After a while, she said weakly: “I can’t… my stomach hurts so much… She must have hurt the baby when she pushed me!” “I need to go to the hospital! If I lose my baby, Sarah, I won’t let you go even as a ghost!” I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “Great, let’s go to the hospital! I’ll go with you! I’ll also help you book a urologist to check your prostate!” Lia went berserk, screaming and pointing at my nose: “You… you crazy woman! You’re slandering me! I’ll sue you for defamation!” I immediately addressed the crowd: “Did everyone hear that? Just one check at the hospital and we’ll know. If he really is a pregnant woman, I’ll kowtow and apologize to him in front of everyone, and pay all medical bills!” Then, I turned to Lia: “Do you dare to go?” Saying that, I grabbed him and dragged him toward the exit. “Let’s go, right now! Let the whole company see if you’re carrying a child or just a bag of bad water!” My colleagues and I stared at him, waiting for an answer. Lia’s face went from red to white. He never dreamed that the soft persimmon he crushed in his past life would turn into a prickly maniac in this one. He gripped the desk tightly, refusing to move a step. Then, as if struck by an idea, he suddenly collapsed straight to the floor with a thud. A pool of “blood” quickly spread beneath him. He reached out, pointing a trembling finger at me, eyes full of venom: “My baby… Sarah… you killed my baby!” 4 Lia was quickly taken away by an ambulance, and the company was in chaos. Karen pointed at me, shaking with rage: “Sarah! Are you happy now? You killed someone’s child!” Another colleague had already dialed 911: “Hello, police? Someone here intentionally assaulted a pregnant woman, causing a miscarriage!” I stood by the pool of “blood,” watching coldly. That wasn’t blood at all; it was just red ink. This scammer was certainly well-prepared. Soon, the police arrived at the office. Lia had been sent to the hospital for “emergency treatment,” and I was taken back to the station as the prime suspect. The office surveillance clearly recorded the whole process. From my message in the group chat, to Lia bringing people to confront me, to me pushing him, and finally his “miscarriage.” All evidence was extremely unfavorable to me. In the interrogation room, the officer’s expression was grim: “Sarah, why did you use such heavy hands on a pregnant woman? Just because she asked you to be quiet?” “Do you know your actions constitute intentional assault?” I looked at the officer and said calmly: “Officer, I didn’t. First, I didn’t intentionally hurt him. Second, he isn’t a pregnant woman.” “He is a man.” The officer frowned: “We’ve verified with the hospital. The victim, Lia, female, was indeed 12 weeks pregnant, but has miscarried due to severe impact.” “What else do you want to fabricate?” I laughed: “Hospital? Which doctor did the check? Dare you let him come confront me face to face?” “I said, Lia is a man. What’s in his belly isn’t a fetus, but a silicone pad and a bag of red ink.” My words stunned the police. They probably had never seen such a “stubborn” suspect. A male officer slammed the table: “Sarah! You still show no remorse! Surveillance video, witness testimony, hospital diagnosis, all evidence points to you!” “Do you think spouting nonsense will get you off the hook?” I met his gaze fearlessly: “I haven’t committed a crime, why would I need to get off the hook?” “I demand to see Lia. I want to prove he is a man in front of you.” “If I can’t prove it, I’ll plead guilty and accept the punishment, no questions asked.” My attitude was so firm that the police began to doubt. After deliberating for a few minutes, they decided to take me to the hospital for a confrontation. Arriving at the hospital, Lia was lying in a hospital bed, face pale, hooked up to an IV, looking incredibly weak. Karen and a few colleagues were guarding the bedside. Seeing me, they rushed up like hens protecting their chicks. “You dare to come here! You murderer!” Karen’s spit almost sprayed on my face. I ignored her and walked straight to the bedside, looking at Lia acting his heart out. “Stop acting. You’re overdoing it.” Seeing me, Lia shuddered violently and shrank back in terror: “Don’t come over… you demon… what else do you want? You’ve already killed my child…” He cried hoarsely, attracting the attention of the entire ward.

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My best friend, Chloe, had begged me for the eight-hundredth time to break up with him. I sniffled, hesitating. “But he treats me pretty well.” Chloe told me I might as well be dead. It wasn’t until I found another package of lingerie sent to Liam by one of his flings that I finally listened to her. Even when he knelt and begged, I didn’t look back. Just as I was about to call Chloe with the good news, I saw her announcement on Instagram: “Dust can never understand the brilliance of the moon. She doesn’t get you, but I do.” The photo showed Liam with red, teary eyes, and Chloe planting a comforting kiss on his cheek. Someone commented, calling her a homewrecker. She didn’t care at all. “If she was fooled by a few pieces of lingerie I mailed, how can she say she truly loved him? Besides, she’s so plain. She doesn’t deserve Liam like I do.” I frantically turned the car around. But I didn’t check the traffic. I died instantly in a crash. After being reborn, I immediately cut ties with Chloe and got into my car to leave. But a woman covered in blood slammed her hands against my window, crying: “Bestie! Help me! That’s not me!” 1 I froze just as I was about to start the engine. Outside the car, the blood-soaked woman was frantically pounding on the glass. Although her features were obscured by gore, I knew her. Thirteen years of friendship told me it was Chloe. But hadn’t I just argued with her upstairs? She was currently sulking in her apartment. I had just gotten into the car. How could she be banging on my window, covered in blood? “Maya! Open the door! Hurry!” She yanked at the handle while looking behind her in panic. As if something terrifying was chasing her. Remembering Chloe’s betrayal in my past life, goosebumps erupted all over my skin. Could it be… that Chloe had really been replaced? The Chloe I knew wasn’t the type to fight over men. Looking at the desperate, bloodied Chloe outside, I decided to trust her. “Hurry! Get in!” I snapped my eyes open. I found myself still sitting in the driver’s seat. I turned my head. The window was down. The wind blew against my face, waking me completely. There was no one banging on the window. Did I… just fall asleep? “Maya, get back here!” Chloe stormed down from upstairs, furious. Her face was clean, without a trace of blood. “What do you mean he treats you well? You don’t want to break up?!” Her exasperated look was exactly the same as in my past life. “This is the third package of lingerie some fling sent him! This time it’s used! The mistress is dancing in your face, and you’re still nostalgic about the good times?!” The exact same speech. In my past life, whenever I received those packages, I would cry to her. Every time, she didn’t hesitate: “Dump him!” But I always felt I should listen to Liam’s explanation. Every time he explained, I would text her: “It was all a misunderstanding. We made up!” It would drive Chloe crazy. But now, looking at her angry face, I clearly remembered the post she made after taking Liam in my past life: “It wasn’t in vain that I advised them to break up for so long. Every time, I was terrified she would figure out I sent the packages. I tried so hard to confuse her. Finally, she’s not ‘love-brained’ anymore. I succeeded.” I opened the car door. I looked down at her. “Chloe, we’re done. Friendship over.” Her pupils shrank. “You’re cutting me off because of a scumbag?” “Did I stutter?” “Maya, we’ve known each other for thirteen years! You’ve only known him for three!” Exactly. So why did you stab me in the back?! I stared at her. “Yes. We’re done.” “Fine.” She pointed at me. “Don’t come crying to me when he ruins you!” She turned and marched upstairs without looking back. I had a moment of trance— She seemed so much like the Chloe I knew. The Chloe I knew wouldn’t react any differently to what I just said. I shook my head. The truth of the past life had been revealed. I had to accept it, even if I didn’t want to. Although the bloodied Chloe was just a dream. The Chloe who plotted against me was no different from a stranger wearing her face. This friendship had ended in such an ugly way. I rolled up the window. Just as I was about to leave, my gaze locked onto the glass. There were dense, bloody handprints. Right where the Chloe in my dream had pressed her hands! I looked up. Behind the window of Chloe’s bedroom, a pair of eyes seemed to be staring straight at me. 2 I wiped the window clean. How could a figure from a dream leave traces in reality? There were a lot of mischievous kids in Chloe’s complex. I leaned towards it being a prank. When I got home, another package was at the door. I opened it. Purple lace stockings and lingerie. It smelled of women’s perfume. In my past life, my first reaction would have been to scream at Liam. Then cry to Chloe. But now, I knew better than anyone who sent it. The image of Chloe’s bloodied face from my dream flashed in my mind. My grip on the stockings tightened. If Chloe wasn’t Chloe, then the real Chloe was most likely at… I thought I should go to Chloe’s apartment again. To avoid suspicion, I decided to make an apology cake. When I appeared at Chloe’s door with a fruit cake, her first reaction was to close the door. I quickly jammed my foot in the gap, pleading: “Chloe, that woman sent him lingerie again to provoke me! This time I really know I was wrong. He’s scum! Total scum!” Chloe sized me up with dissatisfaction. I put on a pitiful expression. “Please, Chloe. Without you, who’s going to help me fight the scumbag?” Only then did she sneer. “Fine. I’ll forgive you this once.” The door opened. I carefully observed her every move. And any sign of a third person in the apartment. “What’s with you?” She turned around, holding a cake knife. “Looking around like a thief. What, you think I’m hiding a man?” She was right. But it was strange. Apart from traces of her and me, there was no sign of anyone else. In the dream, Chloe bled so much. If she was here, there would definitely be traces… I watched Chloe cut the cake. Could I have… Really been mistaken? “Did that son of a bitch make you stupid?” Chloe forked a piece and chewed. “Not gonna lie, the cream is good this time.” I stared at her mouth. My heart stopped— Chloe was allergic to mangoes. I deliberately put mango in the cake to test her. This person, eating mango without a care in the world. Who is she? 3 “What’s wrong?” She looked at me, chewing on mango chunks. My face was pale. My steps were unsteady. “Nothing…” “If nothing’s wrong, eat!” She smiled and handed me a fork with cake on it. I hesitated taking the fork. My hand under my sleeve had already dialed 911. Then, trembling slightly, I reached out to take a bite. Slap! Her face suddenly changed. She smacked my hand away. “What are you doing?” “Chloe?” I looked at Chloe’s suddenly darkened face in shock. My heart skipped a beat. “Why are you eating mango?” She glared at me. My breathing became erratic— Did she… discover my purpose? “You forgot you’re allergic to mangoes?!” “What?” I pointed at myself. Me? Allergic to mangoes? Since I was a kid, my favorite fruit has been mango. The one allergic to mangoes was Chloe, right? “Did that scumbag make you crazy? You forgot your own allergy?” Chloe glared at me. I looked at her. I put the mango on the fork into my mouth. Staring dead at her: “Chloe, watch closely. The one allergic to mangoes was never me. It’s you.” Her face went pale. “Maya…” “So, who the hell are you!” She looked at me in shock. “Speak!” I got up to grab her collar. Suddenly, my throat tightened. I fell to my knees, clutching my neck. I saw a rash erupting on my arm. “I told you you were allergic, why didn’t you listen! Hello? 911? My friend is having a severe allergic reaction! Come quick!” Allergic to mangoes… Me? How is that possible! The person allergic to mangoes, since childhood… Has always been Chloe! Thud! I collapsed to the floor. The last thing I heard was Chloe’s panicked screaming. 4 When I woke up in the hospital, I still couldn’t believe I was allergic to mangoes. Until the diagnostic report came out. The doctor frowned. “You were sent to our ER as a child for acute anaphylaxis. Didn’t I warn you then? Never touch mangoes, not even the juice, for the rest of your life?” Looking at the words “Mango Allergy” on the report. I cast an incredulous look at Liam. He sighed. “When we first started dating, you told me you were allergic. I’ve been careful all these years. Did you forget?” My mind was no longer on whether he cheated. I crumpled the report in my hand. A terrifying guess appeared in my mind— Could it be that the sick one… is really me? Not just the allergy, but also… That afternoon, I appeared in the psychiatric ward.

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My cooking video went viral for the first time. All because I let my wife, Eva—a certified kitchen disaster—make a plate of sweet and sour ribs that came out looking like a twisted, blackened nightmare. The comments section exploded: 【OMG! How did she mess up every single step?】 【My dog could cook better than that!】 I sighed. At least it was getting views. Then, a few comments scrolled by that stopped my heart. 【Wait a second! Isn’t that Eva Burke? The culinary goddess who disappeared years ago?!】 【Back in the day, she and her partner, Ross Grey, were legends in the food world!】 Suddenly, the screen was flooded with a new narrative. 【Case closed! The goddess hasn’t forgotten how to cook. She just reserves her skills for Ross Grey!】 【Who is this husband guy? What gives him the right to make a legend like her break her sacred vow?】 I sat there, bathed in the cold light of my phone, and looked at the woman who had been a quiet, unassuming presence in my life for years. And for the first time, she felt like a complete stranger. 1 My fingers scrolled down mechanically, unearthing more and more comments that pieced together a dazzling, brilliant version of my wife I never knew existed. Eva Burke. She was once a rising star in the culinary scene, a food blogger with breathtaking skill and a perfect partner named Ross Grey. “Eva & Ross’s Table.” I whispered the unfamiliar name, my finger trembling as I typed it into the search bar. The account had been dormant for years, but the old videos were still there. In the thumbnail, a younger Eva, her eyes sparkling with life, wore a crisp chef’s coat. Her arm was casually draped around a handsome, smiling man. She looked so different from the Eva I married, who was always composed, always serene, always distant. This was a version of her I had never seen—brimming with confidence and passion. I clicked on the video with the most views. In it, Eva was expertly filleting a fish. Her hands were as steady as a surgeon’s, the knife gliding effortlessly, creating slices as thin as dragonfly wings. She turned to Ross, her smile soft and genuine. “Jules, can you pass me the spiced honey? You always did like things a little sweeter, right?” Ross’s warm, laughing voice came from off-screen. “You know it. You’re the only one who remembers.” The intimacy in his tone was a physical sting. My mind reeled back to just last week. I was in the kitchen, buried under a mountain of invoices for the bistro, so stressed that my lip was chapped and bleeding. Eva came home from work, glanced at the stove, and frowned. “Still not done? Just whip something up we can eat.” I had hoped she might offer to help, even just to wash some vegetables. “I’m swamped, Eva,” I pleaded. “Could you maybe…” She cut me off, her voice flat. “I don’t cook, Leo. You know that. Let’s just order takeout.” She said it so matter-of-factly. Just like she always did. Every time I was drowning in the stress of keeping the bistro afloat; every time I stayed up until the early hours of the morning perfecting a new recipe; every time she saw my hands shaking from sheer exhaustion—she just stood by, offering a simple, dismissive, “I don’t cook.” It turns out, it wasn’t that she couldn’t. She just wouldn’t. Not for me. In the video, she saw a tiny drop of hot oil splash near Ross and immediately grabbed his hand, inspecting it with frantic concern. “We have to protect Jules,” she said to the camera, “not a single scratch.” But I remembered last month when I threw out my back hauling sacks of flour. I was sweating through my shirt from the pain, and she just watched me, finally saying, “If you can’t handle it, then don’t do it. Why push yourself?” The brutal contrast was a freezing tide washing over my heart, a dull, suffocating ache. This bistro was my father’s life’s work. On his deathbed, he had gripped my hand and made me promise to keep it going. I had poured every cent of my savings, every ounce of my soul into it. I barely ate, barely slept. I was stretched as taut as a violin string. Eva saw all of it. She had the skill to save this place. A single demonstration of her talent could have been the lifeline we needed. But she chose to hide it. She chose to watch my father’s legacy, my entire world, slide slowly into bankruptcy. She even played along with my stupid video, acting the part of the kitchen disaster, leaving me to struggle alone in my despair. I switched off the video and took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the storm raging in my chest. No, I can’t think like that. Maybe… maybe she had her reasons. Everyone has a past. And besides the cooking, she was a good wife. She contributed her salary to the household, remembered my birthday and our son’s, and brought me a glass of water when I was sick. She wasn’t overly affectionate with our son, Toby, but she held him, she took care of him. She did her duty as a mother. I had to believe there was more to the story. I decided to give myself, and our family, one more chance. I called her, forcing my voice to sound calm and sincere. “Eva, you know what this bistro means to me. It’s the last piece of my dad I have left.” My voice trembled, betraying me. “It’s about to go under. I’m asking you, just this once, to please… please cook something for real. Do it for me. Can you do that?” There was a pause on the other end, and then her voice came back, laced with that familiar impatience. “Leo, I don’t cook. You’ve always known that.” In that instant, my heart sank to the bottom of a cold, dark ocean. My voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of all my broken hope. “Then what about ‘Eva & Ross’s Table’?” 2 The line went silent for a moment. When Eva spoke again, her voice was as calm and placid as ever. “Since you know, I might as well be clear.” There was no hesitation, no attempt to hide. Each word was a sharp, deliberate cut into my heart. “I promised Jules my cooking was for him and him alone. That’s a promise I made to him, and I won’t break it for anyone.” A promise? For a promise to another man, she would stand by and watch my entire world crumble? A wave of fury, mixed with a bitter taste of despair, crashed over me. “So that’s it?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “You’d just watch the bistro die? Watch me drown in anxiety every single day? Eva, with your reputation, you wouldn’t even have to cook! You could just show up, say a few words, or—or even just let me use your name! That alone could have saved us!” My voice rose to a sharp, unfamiliar pitch. Eva just listened quietly. When I was done shouting, she delivered her final, cruel blow. “That bistro was always going to fail, Leo. Stop fighting a losing battle.” Her words severed my last thread of hope. “You’re disgusting, Eva.” I spat the words out with what little defiance I had left and hung up, feeling like all the strength had been drained from my body. Just then, a notification popped up on my screen. 【Eva & Ross’s Table is LIVE! Ross’s back in the country for a surprise reunion with Eva!】 My thumb moved on its own, clicking the link. There was Ross, as charming as ever. And next to him, wearing an apron and expertly tossing a wok, was my wife. The woman who, in my kitchen, couldn’t tell salt from sugar was now a whirlwind of graceful precision, her control over the heat and ingredients absolute. She would occasionally turn to speak with Ross, her eyes filled with a focus and warmth I had never, ever seen directed at me. “Be careful, Jules. It’s hot.” She took a plate from his hands, her movements gentle and natural. Then, a little boy, maybe five or six years old, appeared on camera. Ross introduced him as his son, who was fascinated by cooking. Eva knelt, her patience seemingly infinite, and guided the boy’s hands as he tried to chop a vegetable. Her voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “That’s right, sweetheart, keep your wrist steady. You’re so smart.” She called him sweetheart. She smiled at him with such genuine tenderness. My son, Toby… she would hold him sometimes, but she had never once shown him that kind of patient affection. When Toby would bring her a picture book, begging for a story, she’d always say, “Mommy’s tired.” When he proudly showed her a gold star he’d earned at preschool, she’d offer a lukewarm, “Hmm, that’s nice.” … These images were razor blades, shredding the last of my delusions. I closed the livestream, my chest heaving, but my eyes remained stubbornly dry. Just then, the front door opened. It was Toby, home from school. He didn’t even take off his little backpack before he threw himself into my arms and burst into tears. “Daddy… sniff… the other kids said… they said Mommy doesn’t want us anymore… They said she has a new baby now, and she doesn’t want Toby…” He sobbed hysterically, his little face turning red. “I want Mommy! I can’t live without Mommy…” Seeing my son’s raw fear and pain extinguished the fire of my own rage. My resolve to burn everything to the ground vanished. He was right. Toby needed his mother. What would happen to him if Eva and I were at war? I held my son tight, forcing myself to breathe, to calm down. I decided to give her one last chance. I sent her a text. “Toby’s birthday is tomorrow. Be home early.” It took a long time for her to reply. “Got it.” 3 The clock struck ten. On the dining table, the birthday dinner I’d made for Toby had been reheated for the third time. Toby had gone from bouncing with excitement, to anxiously peering out the window, to now, curled up in the corner of the sofa, his little head nodding with sleep. He was still clutching the drawing he had made for his mom. “Daddy, did Mommy forget?” he mumbled, rubbing his sleepy eyes, his voice thick with disappointment. “Mommy’s probably just busy with work…” I said, the excuse tasting like ash in my mouth. I didn’t even believe it myself. The hands on the clock ticked mercilessly past midnight. His birthday was over. My heart sank into the darkness with the night. I stared at the plate of sweet and sour ribs, now misshapen and dull from being reheated so many times. I remembered when we were first married; even though she wouldn’t cook, she would at least look at this dish when I served it and say, “It’s delicious.” When did even that small, feigned warmth disappear? This marriage was just like this dish—spoiled, sticky, and giving off a sickening stench. I called her one last time. It rang for a long time before she picked up. The background was a chaotic symphony of voices and clattering cookware, a stark contrast to the dead silence of my home. “Hello?” Her voice was sharp with the impatience of being busy. “Eva, where are you? It was Toby’s birthday. You promised…” “Something came up. I can’t make it back.” She cut me off without a hint of apology, as if she were canceling a casual coffee date. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. “What could possibly be more important than your son’s birthday?” “Jules needs help calibrating the equipment for the livestream. I can’t leave,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then her tone shifted, becoming demanding. “By the way, that batch of black truffles you got—they’re still at the bistro, right? Bring them over now. Ross needs them for his next dish.” I was stunned into silence, then let out a cold, bitter laugh. That batch of top-grade black truffles… I had pulled so many strings, gone through hell and back, and used nearly the last of my cash flow to get them. I was banking on them for a new signature dish, a final, desperate attempt to save my restaurant. “Those truffles are for—” I started, trying to explain how important they were to me. “I know you got them,” she interrupted again, her voice dripping with undisguised contempt. “But that kind of ingredient is wasted on you. Its true potential can only be realized in the hands of a real chef, like Ross. Stop wasting time and bring them over. We need them now.” Wasted on me? In her eyes, all my effort, all my passion, was just a waste? And whatever Ross needed was simply her command? The dam of resentment, anger, and humiliation that had been building not just all night, but for years, finally burst. My voice trembled, but the words came out with chilling clarity. “Evelyn! Have you no shame?!” I slammed the phone down. The tears finally came, hot and furious, but I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound. A small, warm hand gently touched my cheek. Toby was awake, standing in front of me. His own face was streaked with tears, but he looked at me with a solemnity far beyond his years. “Daddy, don’t cry,” he said. “Mommy’s bad. She made Daddy sad. I don’t want her anymore either.” My son’s words were like a splash of ice water, instantly dousing the flames of my rage and replacing them with a cold, hard clarity. The family I had fought so desperately to hold together was, in Eva’s eyes, something she could cast aside at a moment’s notice. Could my son ever truly be happy in a home like this? I took a deep breath, wiped my tears, and pulled Toby into a hug. In that moment, my decision was made. I stood up, walked to the bookshelf, and took down a dusty folder. Inside were our marriage certificate and our family’s official documents. I placed them on the table, my gaze calm. Since she was so busy being a mother to someone else’s child, my son and I didn’t need her anymore. 4 Meanwhile, at Ross’s studio, preparations for the live broadcast were in full swing. Eva stared at her phone, frowning. Her calls to me were going straight to voicemail. “What’s wrong? Hasn’t Leo brought the truffles yet?” Ross asked, handing her a glass of water. His voice was gentle, but a flicker of calculation crossed his eyes. He sighed dramatically. “I bet he’s still mad at me… It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I know he’s in a tough spot right now, so it’s only natural he’d take it out on you… It’s just a shame it might affect tonight’s broadcast…” Eva rubbed her temples, annoyed. Leo had never been this defiant before. “It’s fine,” she said coolly, turning to an assistant. “Go to The Hearthstone Bistro. Go to the back kitchen and get that batch of black truffles.” The assistant nodded and left. With the addition of the premium ingredient, Ross’s livestream was a massive success. The reunion of the legendary pair ignited a wave of nostalgia across the internet, and the video went viral overnight. The next day, the media descended on them like vultures. Ross smiled at the cameras, the picture of refined charm. “I really have to thank Eva for last night’s success. Without her, none of this would have been possible. The chemistry between us… it’s never changed.” The implication in his words sent a ripple of excitement through the reporters. One journalist pushed a microphone towards Eva. “It seems your connection with Mr. Grey is truly special! Will you two be officially teaming up again to bring back the glory of ‘Eva & Ross’s Table’?” Eva faced the flashing cameras, her expression as calm as ever. “No,” she said after a moment’s thought. “I have a family to consider. I have to respect my husband’s feelings. It wouldn’t be appropriate.” As she finished, a strange, awkward silence fell over the crowd. The smile on Ross’s face froze. Just then, a reporter in the back raised his phone high in the air. “Ms. Burke, are you referring to your husband, Leo?” he shouted. “Because this morning, your husband posted a new video on his social media.” “It was a divorce announcement.” 5 The reporter’s words were a thunderclap in Eva’s ears. A divorce announcement? She instinctively pulled out her phone. On my social media page, the embarrassing “kitchen disaster” video was gone. In its place was a new, pinned video with a simple black-and-white thumbnail. 【Moving On. A Statement on My Divorce.】 The caption underneath was even more cutting: “Your talent belongs to someone else. My future belongs to me.” The comment section was a war zone. Some accused me of riding her coattails for fame, others sympathized with my situation, and many tagged her directly, asking if she had cheated. The more Eva read, the tighter her frown became, and a sense of dread washed over her. “Eva, don’t worry,” Ross whispered, his voice laced with the perfect amount of concern. “Leo is probably just being impulsive… He probably saw how well we work together and got jealous. This is just his way of getting your attention…” On any other day, Eva might have found his words comforting. But now, her mind was a chaotic mess. She turned and walked away from the press conference without another word. Ross, stunned for a second, hurried after her. Eva dialed my number again and again, only to be met with the cold tone of a busy signal. She sped home. The house was eerily quiet. Most of my and Toby’s belongings were gone, making the living room feel vast and empty. On the coffee table sat a crisp, new set of divorce papers. A flame of anger ignited in her chest. Her first thought was the bistro—the only thing she knew I still cared about. She stormed into The Hearthstone Bistro to find me at the stove, my back to her, calmly sautéing vegetables. Ross immediately stepped forward, putting on his best puppy-dog face. “Leo, please don’t misunderstand Eva. It’s all my fault. I’m the one who begged her to help… We’re just colleagues, really. She’s always telling me how wonderful you are, how much you’ve sacrificed for your family…” Wonderful? I almost laughed out loud. Eva seized on his words as if they were proof. “Did you hear that? Ross is defending you. He’s not like you, throwing tantrums, giving the silent treatment, and threatening divorce!” I turned off the stove, plated the food, and finally turned to face them. My eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. “Did you read the papers? Sign them. Toby and I will be moved out in a few days.” Seeing my unyielding resolve, a flash of panic crossed Ross’s eyes. He stepped closer, his voice cracking with manufactured pain. “Leo, how could you? Can’t we talk about this? Why would you use divorce, use your own child, to blackmail Eva? Toby is so young! What’s he going to do?” Eva’s eyes lit up with understanding. She composed herself, looking down at me with a condescending air. “Don’t think you can control me with Toby and this divorce stunt, Leo. Take down the announcement right now, and we can talk.” I finally met their gaze, and the raw disgust and ice in my eyes made Eva flinch.

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I got drunk at a company dinner and called my boss “Hubby.” My coworkers laughed. “She’s so desperate to date the boss she’s losing it.” My old boss, Luke, glared at me coldly. “Can’t control your mouth? Then why drink?” In the brief silence, the notoriously difficult client sitting across from us scoffed. “She was talking to me.” “Why are you getting so excited?” Chapter 1 I chased Luke Anderson from college all the way to his company, becoming his assistant. Everyone knew I liked him. Once, while delivering files, I heard people gossiping inside his office. “Ava is such a rich girl. She lowered herself to be your assistant. Can you really bear to see that?” Luke clicked his tongue. “She wanted to come. What could I do?” The others laughed. “True. She always loved sticking to you.” “It’s been years and she hasn’t changed.” “But Luke, are you really not going to date Ava?” “She’s dreaming of being with you.” “Last time her family set her up on a blind date, you called us out to drink late at night. I thought you cared about her.” After that sentence, Luke suddenly sounded angry, his voice turning cold. “Just a clingy nuisance. Why would I care?” Outside the door, my hand, poised to knock, slowly dropped. I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The people inside froze for a second because of my intrusion. But only for a second. Soon, someone smiled like nothing happened. “Assistant Ava, bringing breakfast for Luke again?” My daily, rain-or-shine breakfast delivery. Luke didn’t even look up, as if he already knew what I was doing. He just casually nodded towards the desk. “Put it there.” But I shook my head. I placed the files in my hand and a resignation letter on the table. “Not breakfast.” “It’s my resignation letter.” “Mr. Anderson, please review it.” Chapter 2 Everyone was stunned. They swarmed forward, and after reading the words on the letter clearly, they asked in disbelief: “Wait, Ava, are you serious?” Luke finally frowned and looked up. He looked at me. “What’s this about?” I pushed the resignation letter toward him. “I’m resigning.” “I sent the digital copy to your email too. Remember to check.” Luke glanced at the letter on the table and asked impatiently: “Just because I made you work overtime yesterday?” I shook my head: “No.” “I just don’t want to do this anymore.” Luke’s face finally darkened bit by bit. As I turned to leave, he called my name. “Ava.” “If you leave now, there’s no chance of coming back to my side.” It sounded like a threat, and a warning. I didn’t look back. “Music to my ears.” The atmosphere in the room instantly dropped to freezing point. As I pushed the door open to leave, I heard tentative voices behind me. “Luke, she’s just throwing a tantrum, don’t take it to heart…” “Yeah, you know how much she likes you.” “Maybe she’ll regret it this afternoon and beg to come back…” Luke stared at the closed door and sneered. “Who cares about her.” Chapter 3 I threw away all the useless stuff from the company. In the end, nothing was left. Looking at the empty desk, I felt like laughing. My mind replayed the anonymous video I received last night while working overtime. In the dimly lit karaoke bar, Luke had his arm around a stunning woman, listening indifferently to the chatter around him. “Is Ava really obediently doing grunt work at the office right now?” “Of course. Luke has his ways. That rich girl hasn’t joined our parties in ages.” Indeed. I chased Luke for so many years. A wealthy heiress, acting like his servant. As long as he asked, I willingly worked overtime and socialized for him, ruining my health. In the end, all I got was a joke from his bros. “Looking at it this way, Ava really is like the most obedient dog around Luke.” And he stood by, swirling his drink, not denying it. He even chuckled. “What are you saying?” “She’s the only one around me who acts like a dog. Where’s the competition?” The room erupted in laughter. In that moment, it felt like a bucket of ice water was poured over me. It was cold. But I also felt instantly awake. Thinking about it, I silently took out my phone and found the contact of the blind date my family introduced a while ago. I heard he was a top-tier guy. I was just so focused on Luke before that I kept delaying the meeting, wanting to ruin the setup. Now… Although it seemed a bit unethical. But everyone knows the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else—or at least start something new. I tapped the screen. [Want to meet tomorrow?] To my surprise, he replied almost instantly. [Okay.] Chapter 4 The blind date was a gentleman. He offered to let me pick the time, and he’d arrange the place. But previously, when my parents mentioned blind dates, I tuned out completely. So now I knew nothing about this guy. Arriving early at the venue, I hesitated at the door. What if I didn’t recognize him? That would be awkward. While pacing, I accidentally bumped into someone. I looked up. I saw a perfectly tailored suit. And above that, a face so exquisitely handsome it was unfair to humanity. And the owner of this face was looking at me gently. “Why aren’t you going in?” His thin lips, which looked very kissable, moved as he spoke… I subconsciously swallowed. Then I realized my loss of composure. Because I knew this man. Ethan Sterling. A famous tycoon in the industry. I’d seen him countless times on the list of target partners for Luke’s company. But rumor had it he was ruthless, cold, and extremely unapproachable. Not a single collaboration attempt had succeeded. I backed away repeatedly to let him pass. “Sorry, sorry, I’m waiting for someone, got a bit distracted. So sorry, please go ahead…” But the man in front of me chuckled lightly. “Miss Sullivan.” I looked up in surprise. How did he know my last name? His eyes crinkled with a smile. “Is there a possibility that the person you’re waiting for is me?” Chapter 5 I was shook. My family just said they introduced a really great guy. But I never dared to dream it would be someone on Ethan Sterling’s level. Until I was sitting face-to-face with Ethan in the private room he arranged. I kept a smile on my face. Under the table, my hand was frantically texting my mom. [The guy you set me up with is Ethan Sterling?] [Since when is our family powerful enough to marry into his?] [Did you guys secretly become billionaires without telling me?] My mom replied instantly with a question mark. [?] [What are you talking about, honey? Daydreaming?] [It’s a distant nephew of Ethan Sterling.] [Didn’t your aunt tell you clearly?] I glanced at the man opposite me, who was watching me with a smile. Could there be a second face this handsome in the world? Our eyes met. I couldn’t pretend to be busy anymore. I could only stammer. “Um…” “You are… Mr. Ethan Sterling, right?” He nodded, then gave an apologetic smile. “Yes.” “My bad, I haven’t introduced myself yet.” “Hello, Miss Sullivan. I’m Ethan Sterling, your blind date. It’s an honor to meet you.” A concise introduction. It just completely contradicted the info my mom gave me. I was confused. “But, the date my family arranged… wasn’t…” Ethan raised an eyebrow. He took a sip of tea from the cup on the table. “That kid isn’t good enough for you.” “So I came.” He looked up at me. “What’s wrong?” “Does Miss Sullivan prefer him?” I froze. The way he spoke… Why did it seem like he knew me well? My heart drummed in my chest. Ethan remained composed, his calm, deep eyes staring unblinkingly at me, clearly expecting an answer. I had to brace myself and speak. “Of course not… I don’t even know him.” He chuckled. “Then it doesn’t matter if I take his place, right?” I gulped. “No…” Of course it didn’t matter to me. Either way, he was the one getting the short end of the stick, right? But Ethan seemed happy with my answer. He produced a thick book from somewhere, stood up, leaned over, and placed it in front of me. “That’s good.” “This is my resume. It contains my basic info, hobbies, career, salary, and personal assets. Please take a look, Miss Sullivan.” “To be honest, Miss Sullivan, I came to this blind date with the intention of marriage.” “My social circle has no other women. I can guarantee absolute loyalty to the marriage. After marriage, I will fulfill all pre-marital promises and transfer all personal assets to you unconditionally.” “I won’t put any pressure on my partner. Short of divorce, she will enjoy absolute freedom.” “If Miss Sullivan is satisfied with my conditions, I hope my wish…” He paused after the long speech. Those beautiful eyes started sending electricity my way again. “Can be considered.” Ethan’s voice was already warm and magnetic, and that handsome face was staring right at me. I was getting dizzy. Floating. Was this a hallucination because Luke drove me crazy? I pinched my thigh hard under the table. Ouch. It hurt! Not a dream. Maybe my expression was getting too blank. It wasn’t until Ethan’s eyes filled with laughter that I realized I had lost my composure again. I quickly grabbed my cup for a tactical sip of water. Then I pretended to be calm. “Mr. Sterling.” “Do you mean… you want to marry me?” He looked at me. Nodded very seriously. “Yes.” “Miss Sullivan, I hope to have the honor of becoming your husband.”

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The SAT results were in. My son had scored a perfect 1600. Just as I was drowning in the joy of his success, he stormed into my office, dragging his girlfriend behind him. “Mom, the new ‘Joint Merit’ policy just dropped. The top ten scorers in the country can pay a $500,000 donor fee to select one other student to be admitted with them!” The girl smirked, triumph written all over her face. “Mrs. Sterling, Oliver and I have already linked our applications. You can’t stop us from being together now. Hurry up and write the check!” At that exact moment, a stream of floating text—like a livestream chat—scrolled across my vision: 【Here it comes! The male lead is finally escaping his controlling mother! He’s going to Harvard with his baby girl!】 【That old witch better not stop our power couple! Or else, when the male lead inherits the empire, she’s the first one he’ll destroy!】 The corner of my lips curled up. The idiot wants to inherit the empire? He clearly didn’t read the fine print. The “Joint Merit” policy requires the two students to average their scores for final placement. And his girlfriend? She scored a 400. That’s the score you get just for signing your name. Chapter 1 In his senior year, Oliver was called to the principal’s office for the first time. The reason? A toxic relationship was tanking his grades. For any parent of a senior, this is a nightmare. I tried to reason with him. This wasn’t the time for romance. Especially not with Bella. “Her mother is the mistress your father left me for,” I told him, trying to keep my voice steady. “Your father walked away with nothing, and that woman has held a grudge ever since. Now her daughter is latching onto you. You think that’s a coincidence?” Oliver defended her with the passion of a fool. “Mom, Bella is innocent! Why should she pay for her mother’s mistakes?” Getting into Harvard had been his lifelong dream. I couldn’t watch him throw it away at the finish line. When he refused to listen, I took drastic measures. I had my security team tail him. I banned him from seeing Bella until after the SATs. I hired the best tutors in the country and a Michelin-star chef to manage his diet. I ensured he was in peak condition for the exam. When he scored that 1600, I felt a weight lift off my chest. But before I could even pop the champagne, he pulled this stunt. According to the floating text—the “Chat,” as I called it—I was living in a romance novel. Oliver was the male lead, Bella was the heroine. They were the star-crossed lovers fighting against the world. And I? I was “The World.” I was the villain destined to be locked in a psychiatric ward by my own son. I watched the text scroll by as Oliver stared at me, impatient. “Mom, five hundred grand is pocket change to you. You wouldn’t block my happiness over money, would you?” He had the CEO posture down, I’ll give him that. “Oliver,” I said, looking at the boy I raised. “Setting aside who she is… do you really plan to go to college with someone who refuses to study?” Oliver hesitated. Bella saw it. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes. “Mrs. Sterling, I know you hate me. But who says low scores mean I can’t go to Harvard? Everyone is created equal! This is discrimination!” The Chat exploded with cheers. 【Yasss Queen! Why should a test define our worth?】 【Choice > Effort! As long as she has the male lead, she deserves to win!】 【Speak truth to power, Bella!】 I almost laughed out loud. “Right,” I said dryly. “Why should grades matter for Harvard? Maybe they should test for audacity instead. You’d be Valedictorian.” Bella turned red, then buried her face in Oliver’s chest. “Sob… I told you she hates me… Oliver, I guess I can’t go with you.” Oliver, heartbroken, glared at me. “Mom! You just hate her because you’re jealous that Dad loves her mom! I’m your son. Can’t you compromise for me just once?” The Chat spammed: 【Protective boyfriend mode: ON!】 My heart skipped a beat, then hardened into ice. “What did you call her? Her mom?” Chapter 2 Oliver was busy comforting the crying beauty in his arms. When he looked back at me, his eyes held no love. Only resentment. “That’s right! I visited Dad after the exams. Fiona isn’t the monster you painted her to be. She’s gentle and kind. She takes care of Dad and Bella. Unlike you—always in meetings, always traveling. Aside from making money, what have you ever done for this family?” I trembled. When Oliver was seven, my ex-husband cheated. Fiona, the mistress, showed up at our house constantly, spreading rumors and making our lives hell. My husband and I fought a bitter divorce war over assets. I fought tooth and nail to stop him from hiding money. I won. He left with nothing. I never sugarcoated his father’s actions to Oliver. He was old enough to remember Fiona screaming slurs at us on our front porch. The Chat scrolled by, giving me an idea. “I see,” I said slowly. “You’re saying that even though I gave you millions, what you really wanted was… love?” “Exactly!” Oliver shouted. “I got the score you wanted. Now stop standing in the way of my happiness!” I wanted to laugh. Getting into Harvard was his dream. Since when did it become my demand? I poured endless resources into making him elite. I gave him a status most would kill for. But if his dream was to ruin his life with a dropout, who was I to stop him? “Fine,” I said. “I agree. You can go to college together.” If he wanted to destroy his future, I’d hand him the matches. Oliver’s face lit up. “Mom, I knew you’d understand! When Bella and I graduate from Harvard, we’ll come back and take over Sterling Corp. You can finally retire.” In your dreams, kid. Chapter 3 Oliver was beaming, but Bella nudged him. “The money,” she whispered. He held out his hand. “Right. The $500,000 fee. Transfer it.” I raised an eyebrow. “Five hundred thousand? I read the policy. The application fee is $50. Can you two really not afford fifty bucks?” Oliver blinked, flushing crimson. “Is… is that right? Maybe I misread it.” Bella looked furious, but Oliver dragged her away before she could speak. The Chat faded as they left: 【OMG, the old witch is so cheap! He wanted that money to take Bella to Europe!】 【How are they supposed to see the Northern Lights now?】 【Whatever, at least she didn’t stop them. The good life is coming!】 【Wait… the policy literally just came out. How did the mom know they were trying to scam her?】 How? Because you idiots told me. I sat in the garden, pruning my roses, when Oliver’s guidance counselor called, sounding like he was having a stroke. “Mrs. Sterling! Oliver linked his profile with the lowest-ranked student in the district! Did you know about this?” “I know,” I said calmly. “He’s an adult. Let him be.” “But Mrs. Sterling! The policy averages the scores! That girl got a 400! A 400 on the SAT!” I knew. The Chat had been spamming it. Everyone assumed I would use my wealth to bribe Bella into Harvard to save Oliver. But why would I save the knife that stabbed me in the back? “Averaged out, that’s a 1000,” I said. “Not bad. Good enough for community college.” The counselor tried to argue, but I hung up. “Mrs. Sterling,” my assistant asked, confused. “Are you really letting him throw it all away?” “He’s not my son anymore,” I said coldly. “He’s chosen his side.” “Should we cancel the celebratory gala?” I paused. “No. Didn’t we sponsor a brilliant scholarship student who also got into the Ivy League? Throw the gala for her.” Chapter 4 I went to visit Maya, the scholarship student. She lived in a run-down apartment complex. As I approached, the Chat appeared again, thick and chaotic. I signaled my bodyguards to hold back. The door was ajar. Inside, Bella and her posse of mean girls had pushed a thin girl to the ground. “Stop acting like a victim!” Bella sneered. “I warned you to stay away from Oliver.” “I didn’t do anything…” Maya’s voice shook. Bella grabbed Maya’s chin. “Listen to me. Oliver linked his profile with mine. His mom is going to pay whatever it takes to get us both into Harvard. You? You’re going to change your application to a community college. If I see you at Harvard, I will make your life a living hell.” The Chat cheered: 【Yasss! Bella establishing dominance!】 【Bunny turned into a wolf! Love it!】 I kicked the door open. Bella spun around, raising a bat, but froze when she saw me. I helped Maya up. “Are you okay?” “Thank you, Mrs. Sterling,” Maya whispered. Bella rolled her eyes. “Oh great, the witch is here.” I shot her a look that could freeze water. “Assistant, call the police.” We spent hours at the precinct. Bella had to call her mom, Fiona, to bail her out. Fiona looked at me with pure venom. “You think money makes you better than us? You couldn’t keep your husband, and now you can’t keep your son.” I ignored her and focused on Maya. “If they bother you again, call me immediately.” Maya teared up. “Thank you. I promise I’ll pay you back one day.” According to the Chat, in the original timeline where I was locked in the psych ward, Maya was the only one who fought for me. She battled Oliver and Bella until they destroyed her, too. Even a stranger knew gratitude. My own son did not. Bella, seeing me ignore her, sneered. “By the way, Mrs. Sterling, Oliver is staying at our house now. He loves my mom’s cooking. He says it tastes like a real home.” I looked at Fiona. “Seeing you reminded me of something.” I smiled dangerously. “It’s time to settle some debts.”

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1 On my wedding day, I accidentally stumbled upon a video that seemed like it was designed to mock me. It showed a tearful eighteen-year-old girl saying, “What do I do? He rejected my confession. Will I ever see him again?” Cut to a twenty-five-year-old woman, beaming. “Don’t cry, silly! Not only will you see him again, but you just got your marriage license today! What’s meant to be will be!” I couldn’t help but smile as I watched. After all, my fiancé, Matthew Lloyd, and I had been childhood sweethearts for fifteen years, and we were celebrating our marriage today. As I went to type a congratulatory message, I hesitated. The video zoomed in on a collage of photos the woman had secretly taken of the same man, from eighteen to twenty-five. It ended with a shot of a marriage license. The man who had inspired such devotion, the guy the internet was rooting for, was my husband, Matthew Lloyd. … The video played on, the woman’s sweet voice filling my ears. “I’m sharing this video to tell girls who are crushing on someone: never give up! Eventually, he’ll love you back.” My hands shaking, I dragged the timeline back and stared at her eighteen-year-old face. Recognition slammed into me. This was Blair Lancaster. The girl who had been obsessed with Matthew for years, following him around like a lost puppy. She’d been invisible back then—plain, unremarkable. A far cry from who she was now. Love is like raising a flower. My love has nurtured me so well… I closed my eyes, forcing myself to stay calm. Then, I clicked into the comments. A comment posted just three minutes earlier, already at the top, caught my eye. You are the rose I cultivated with my own hands. The profile picture was the back of a man’s head. One I had taken. The truth crashed down on me. My mind went blank. Then, I heard the front door open. Matthew walked in carrying a cake, his handsome face as warm and familiar as always. “I knew you’d be waiting up for me. It’s our wedding night, after all.” “I got this for you on the way back from the office. Try it.” He moved to embrace me, like he always did. Instinctively, I took a step back, switching off my phone and hiding it behind me. My voice trembled. “You really went to the office?” Matthew froze, a flicker of something like frustration crossing his brow. “Where else would I have been?” “Everyone else gets pre-wedding jitters. How come you’re having them after we get married?” His casual tone made me doubt myself. Maybe I was overreacting. After all, Blair had tried to drive a wedge between us back then. As I stood there, lost in thought, Matthew pulled me down onto the sofa and spooned a bite of cake into my mouth. My head was spinning. Then, he laughed. “Oh, right. There’s some stuff I have to take care of at work tomorrow. Let’s wait on getting the marriage license, okay?” “We’ve been together for so long. A few more days won’t matter, will it?” Before the wedding, I’d suggested we get the license first, but he had brushed it off, saying he was too busy. Now, he was delaying it again. I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. There was no hint of guilt, nothing to betray his words. My heart twisted. I nodded, unable to speak. While Matthew went to take a shower, I grabbed his phone. The password was still my birthday. The wallpaper was still a picture of me. So was his profile picture. I let out a small sigh of relief and clicked into his video apps. There was only one account. Not the one that had commented on Blair’s video. A hand reached around me, snatching the phone from my grasp. Matthew picked me up in his arms. “Stop checking my phone. Come see how good my stamina is instead.” I tried to tell myself that this was all just a coincidence, forcing a smile. “Okay…” Before I could finish the word, a ringtone shattered the moment. Matthew practically leaped out of my arms and answered the phone. Two seconds later, he was throwing on his clothes. “I have to go. There’s a problem at the office.” “Don’t wait up for me tonight. I’ll be back late. Be good.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead and hurried out. Not long after he left, I saw a new comment from Blair under her video. Someone pretended to get a call from work just to see me. Guess who finally got the undivided attention she deserves tonight? My blood ran cold. I called Matthew. He didn’t answer. I tried again, and again. Finally, after a dozen calls, he picked up, his voice edged with irritation. “I was in a meeting. It was urgent.” “An urgent meeting? In bed, maybe?” I couldn’t stop the sarcasm. Matthew was silent for a moment, and then, there was a flash of anger. “Seraphina, what is wrong with you tonight?” “First you’re grilling me about work, then you’re checking my phone, and now you’re accusing me of cheating?” I bit down hard on my lip, forcing the words out. “Fine.” I hung up and drove to his office. Ignoring the blare of horns as I ran red lights, I finally arrived, and saw Matthew was, in fact, in his office. When he saw me, he sighed and tugged at his tie. “You actually came here?” “What is going on with you? Why are you so suspicious?” The relief I had felt just moments before was instantly replaced by ice when I saw his tie. I clenched my fists, my voice shaking. “You weren’t wearing a tie when you left the house.” A flicker of panic crossed his face, but he quickly recovered. “Oh. I keep a spare at the office.” We’d been friends for years. I knew the subtle tells. He was lying. I didn’t want to play games. I held up Blair’s video. “Explain. What is this?” Matthew’s pupils contracted. He hadn’t expected me to see it. Then, he frowned. “Why is Blair so obsessed with me?” He rose and started pacing, feigning annoyance. “She spent her whole life trying to ruin what we had. You know I hate her. How could you think I would marry her?” “Okay, I admit it. I lied. I ran into her a while back. She applied for a secretarial position. I turned her down.” “But then, her brain snapped, and she made up this whole fantasy.” “Honey, we just had our wedding. Why would she post something like this now, unless she was trying to cause trouble?” Before he could finish, the door opened. Blair waltzed in, looking sweet and innocent, holding a man’s jacket. “Matthew, you forgot this.” The office went silent, with only the video’s soundtrack echoing through the air. Matthew was the first to react. He grabbed Blair, his voice dangerously low. “That’s not my jacket. Stop making things up.” “Tell my wife what’s going on. Tell her about the video.” I watched as Blair’s eyes turned red. She seemed to resist, but she lowered her head to me. “Seraphina, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have posted the video. I just wanted to fulfill an old fantasy.” “It’s not real. It was all faked. I’m so sorry…” Before she could finish, I raised my hand to strike. But Matthew seized my wrist, his face darkening. “That’s enough. Don’t get violent—” Smack! I swung with my other hand, the slap echoing through the office. Matthew’s cheek was red. He stared at me, stunned. “Seraphina! I explained everything! Why won’t you trust me?” “There’s a limit to how much nonsense I’m willing to take!” Pain tightened my chest. I took a shaky breath, trying to stay calm, and threw a document at him. It was a certificate of marriage, obtained by my lawyer. “Explain this. I dare you.” “Matthew Lloyd. Marital status: not single. Spouse: Blair Lancaster.” His face turned sheet white. Afraid of what I might do next, he pulled me out of the office. Back home, he dropped to his knees, his eyes red-rimmed. “I’m sorry, Sera. I lied.” “But I’m telling the truth. Blair and I ran into each other a while ago. She applied to be my secretary.” “I didn’t want anything to do with her. But then she begged me to give her a chance.” “You know what she’s like. She didn’t do well in school, she never got a degree, she can’t find a decent job. And she only has her grandmother, who needs expensive medical care. I felt sorry for her, so I gave her a chance.” “After a while, I started to… waver. When she begged me for the tenth time to marry her, to fulfill her grandmother’s dying wish, I gave in.” “I thought, what harm could it do? I could marry her for a little while, let her be happy, and then divorce her. And then, I would tell you everything. I never imagined she would post that video! She said she would block you from seeing it.” “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have lied to you. But Sera, you were raised by your grandmother. You understand, don’t you?” By the end of his speech, my heart had gone numb. I wanted to laugh. I looked at him, a flicker of desperate hope still alive in his eyes, and a cold laugh escaped my lips. “I understand you? Who understands me?” “You also know I was raised by my grandmother. When I dropped everything to go abroad with you, my grandmother died alone, and I never got to say goodbye. You said you would give me a family.” “And now? Matthew, you’re spinning an affair to make yourself look good. It’s disgusting.” His face hardened. After a long pause, he rose, his voice flat with disappointment. “I can’t believe you’re like this. Blair has been waiting for me for so long, and I just wanted to make her dream come true.” “She’s been waiting for you? What about me?” I couldn’t stop myself from screaming. “When you couldn’t pay your rent abroad, who worked day and night to send you money?” “When you came back and needed capital, who sold her grandmother’s house to fund your business?” “How many times did I negotiate deals for you until I was throwing up blood? How many times was I almost assaulted?” “I didn’t want anything in return! I just wanted you to be happy, and to build a life with me!” “Enough!” Matthew’s face was a mask of anger. “All you ever talk about is money.” “Fine. I’ll pay you.” He pulled out his phone and transferred three million dollars to my account. With interest, down to the penny. It was the money I had scrounged together, my entire savings. Now, it was pocket change to him. There were so many things I wanted to say, but suddenly, I didn’t have the strength. Looking at his cold, unfamiliar face, I knew it was over. Seeing my silence, a mocking smile touched his lips. “All you care about is money, Seraphina. You have no right to judge me for having an affair.” “I never mistreated you after I made my fortune. I paid you back. I’m still paying Blair back, so I had to marry her. You’ve waited for me for so long. A little longer won’t kill you. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He reached out, trying to soothe me, but I recoiled. A wave of nausea washed over me. I ran to the bathroom, gagging, and heard his phone ring. “What? What happened to your grandmother? I’m coming now.” I heard the door slam. I flushed the toilet, sending all our happy memories spiraling into the drain. I washed my face and stood up. I opened my phone and messaged my lawyer, Julian Hayes: File for divorce. For a week, Matthew didn’t come home. Instead, I saw him flaunting his new romance on social media, posting picture after picture with Blair. Only, he never showed her face. Friends who had been at our wedding kept messaging, asking about the honeymoon. I didn’t reply. Instead, I posted a single line to my feed: Husband had an affair. Do not disturb. My phone exploded. Then, Matthew called, his voice rough. “Seraphina, are you out of your mind?” I laughed softly. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle the truth?” He hung up. Then, my old high school principal called, his voice excited. “The alumni gala is tomorrow! Distinguished alumni can bring their spouses. I told Matthew about it a week ago, right?” I paused. “No.” “Oh. Well, he probably forgot. Be sure to come. It’ll be broadcast live.” I squeezed my phone, hard. He hadn’t forgotten. He just hadn’t intended to bring me. I agreed to attend. All week, I barely slept. My tears had dried up, and my heart had gone numb. So, when Matthew finally came home that night and started yelling at me, I was strangely calm. “Seraphina, are you trying to ruin me?” “Was it you who told Blair’s grandmother about our situation? Did you cause her to have a heart attack? Blair nearly killed herself because of you!” “Now, you’re going to come to the hospital and apologize!” He reached for me. I dodged him, my voice quiet. “Who are you taking to the alumni gala tomorrow?” Matthew hesitated, rubbing his temples. “You thought you could ruin my reputation by posting on social media? So why would I want to take you?” “Blair’s reputation was destroyed by you. I’m going to help her fix it.” “That’s not important right now. We need to go to the hospital—” “Why should I apologize to the woman you had an affair with?” Smack! The slap sent me crashing to the floor, pain shooting through my abdomen. Matthew reached for me, then stopped. A flicker of something flashed in his eyes, his voice turning cold. “Seraphina, watch your mouth!” “Besides, you’re the other woman. Blair and I are married!” That sentence seared my heart. I stood up, shaking. “You’re right. I’m the other woman.” I turned and walked out. Behind me, Matthew’s footsteps came to a halt. “Seraphina, if you walk out that door, we’re done!” His rage was a distant echo as I left, never once looking back. That night, he posted a picture of his marriage certificate with Blair: No affair here. Just fake news. Married. I switched off my phone and stared at Julian, the lawyer, his gaze steady and sure. “Everything’s ready, right?” He nodded, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure about this?” I forced a smile. “Yes. I have to do it.” The emptiness in my stomach mirrored the hollowness in my heart. Even the last tie to Matthew was gone. What else was there to hold on to? As the alumni gala began, all the cameras focused on the stage. The principal excitedly invited Matthew Lloyd to deliver a speech. After all, he was the school’s most successful graduate. I watched as he spoke, crediting all the achievements to Blair. The ones that I had bled and sweat for. But I didn’t feel anything. In fact, I wanted to laugh. Ignoring the principal’s confused expression and the sympathetic glances from our friends, I slowly started to clap. Matthew froze when he saw me, then quickly looked away. After his speech, Julian was invited to speak. He scanned the room, his gaze coming to rest on Matthew. “Before I start, I’d like to take care of a little business. I’m filing a lawsuit against Mr. Lloyd for fraud and misrepresentation.” The room went silent. Every eye turned to me. I rose, ignoring Matthew’s furious glare, and walked to the podium. I smiled faintly. “I’m Julian’s client, and the victim of Mr. Lloyd’s fraud. My name is Seraphina Hayes.”

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My fiancée’s first love came back to the country. With cancer. Ever since she found out, she’s been… distant. Lost in thought. I didn’t think much of it. There was no point in getting worked up over a dying man. But then he whispered one sentence to her: “I want to spend my last days with you.” And for that, my fiancée drugged me. Hypnotized me. “Three months, Thomas. Just give me three months.” “Forget me. After three months, I’ll be all yours again.” And just like that, the woman named Ava Johnston vanished from my memory. Later, she walked down the aisle in a white dress, married that man, and lived out three months of idyllic bliss before returning to me as promised. “Thomas, let’s get married.” I just stared at her, completely lost. “I’m sorry, who are you?” 1 “Ava, you have to try this one.” Inside the bridal boutique, I held up a gown I’d painstakingly chosen, certain it was the one for her. When my eyes met hers, I noticed they were rimmed with red. “What’s wrong, Ava?” I chuckled, gently stroking her hair. “Why the tears all of a sudden? Getting emotional thinking about the wedding?” Her voice trembled as she looked up at me, barely a whisper. “He’s back.” “Hmm?” I leaned in, not quite catching it. That’s when her phone screen tilted into my view, completely by accident. A familiar name burned into my retinas. Jacob Lin. Ava’s first love. I’d known about him for years, of course. But whenever his name came up, Ava was always so dismissive, as if he were a stranger she barely remembered. It had been, what, six or seven years since they broke up? That’s an eternity. Long enough to bury even the deepest feelings. I just never imagined his return would hit her this hard. The smile faded from my face, my voice becoming flat. “So? What if he’s back? Does that mean we stop trying on dresses? That we don’t get married?” Ava flinched, her voice strained. “No, Thomas, you’ve got it all wrong. It’s just… he said he has terminal cancer. He won’t live more than three months.” “I don’t mean anything by it,” she rushed to add. “It’s just sad, you know? Someone so full of life just… gone.” “Thomas, he’s in the past. There’s nothing between us anymore.” “Don’t overthink it.” But Ava, all I did was ask a simple question, and you look like you’ve just committed the crime of the century. The mood for dress shopping was shattered. We left in silence. The drive home was heavy, thick with unspoken words. Back at our apartment, Ava threw herself onto the sofa, her gaze unfocused, lost somewhere I couldn’t follow. I took a deep breath and knelt by her feet. “What else did he say to you?” A long time passed before she answered. So long I thought she hadn’t heard me. Then, her voice drifted across the room. “He wants me to be with him, at the end.” My hand, holding a glass of water, paused mid-air. I asked, trying to sound casual, “And you said yes?” “No.” She seemed to pull herself together, forcing a brittle smile. “Of course not. Who am I to him? Why would I agree to something like that?” A lie. She couldn’t even look at me. I closed my eyes, deciding not to call her on it. “You’re right not to. If anyone should be by his side, it’s his family, his friends.” Ava’s rebuttal was instant, automatic. “He doesn’t have any close friends. His parents died a couple of years ago. He’s always been—” She cut herself off. 2 Facing my gaze, which felt like it could see right through her, Ava scrambled for an excuse. She grabbed a jacket. “I just remembered, there’s something I need to check on at the lab.” She’d forgotten. She had specifically cleared her schedule today for the dress fitting, arranging everything at the lab beforehand. She didn’t need to go. Her heart was in chaos. I carried my glass to the balcony and watched her hurry away, saying nothing. People hold on to the past. I get it. Even if Ava’s reaction was more intense than I’d expected, I could tolerate it. After all, what kind of trouble could a dying man really cause? As for Ava, I would give her time to sort herself out. Being sentimental isn’t a fatal flaw. I tried to be understanding. Ava didn’t come home that night. When she finally returned, she acted as if nothing had happened. She threw her arms around me, her voice sweet and clingy. “I’m so exhausted, honey. You have no idea how draining that experiment was.” She didn’t mention him, and neither did I. It was one of those unspoken pacts adults make. She then offered to cook dinner for me. I took it as an apology for her behavior the day before and gladly accepted. At the dinner table, she brought up where she’d been. “Actually, I went to see Jacob last night.” “He’s changed so much. I barely recognized him from the person I remember.” “Thomas, we had something real, you know? A real connection.” “If we hadn’t been so young and reckless back then, we might never have broken up.” “Honestly, we were childhood sweethearts. Seeing him like this… I just can’t leave him high and dry.” She kept talking, and a strange thing happened. I knew I should be angry. But a heavy grogginess washed over me. My limbs felt like lead, and even speaking was an effort. A bitter realization dawned on me. She had done something to my food. I managed a weak, wry smile. “So you agreed?” To his three-month request? Ava’s hand drifted to a small box she’d brought back with her. She gave a soft, “Mmm.” My eyes fixed on it. “What’s that?” 3 Ava went silent. Her fingers traced the edges of the music box, her expression a storm of indecision. I asked her again what was in the box. She slowly lifted her head, the conflict in her eyes finally giving way to a soft apology. “Thomas, I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to forget me for three months. After three months, we’ll go back to being us, the loving couple we’ve always been.” Forget her for three months? The horrifying truth clicked into place. I stared at the box. “Is that a hypnosis device?” “Yes. It’s the latest project from my lab. It can make you forget me for exactly three months.” The hesitation in Ava’s eyes was hardening into resolve. I knew her. Once she made a decision, she saw it through. I didn’t move. I didn’t try to run. A knot of grief tightened in my chest, a bitter sting rising in my nose. A wave of profound sadness crashed over me. “Since it’s a new prototype,” I asked, my voice thick with self-mockery, “aren’t you worried something could go wrong? What if… what if I forget you for longer than three months?” Ava, her hand poised to open the box, froze. The certainty in her eyes wavered, replaced again by doubt. But it was only for a second. Her resolve returned, and she continued opening the lid. “I have faith in my work. In three months, I will come back to you, and you will still love me!” Her words hung in the air as she threw the music box open, giving herself no chance to back down. A brilliant white light bloomed from within, accompanied by a strange, ethereal melody that assaulted my senses. The world began to swim, and Ava’s voice echoed in my ears, a soothing, hypnotic chant. “Thomas Song, I love you. I really, really love you. But Jacob is dying, and I have to be with him for this final journey.” “Thomas Song, forget me. Forget Ava. Your life has never included a person named Ava.” “10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 1…” Her voice grew fainter, more distant. I slumped onto the sofa, the last two words circling in my mind: Ava Johnston. But… who was Ava Johnston? 4 When I woke up, sunlight was streaming into the room. I ran a hand through my messy hair, confused by the blanket draped over me. Did I fall asleep on the sofa? Who covered me? Maybe one of my buddies crashed here? Just then, my phone rang. It was my best friend, Leo. He launched right in, his voice a chaotic buzz. “Thomas! Dude, you’re getting married tomorrow! I’m heading over in a bit to help decorate. Don’t you dare touch anything, you and your disaster-zone decorating skills would make the place look like a dumpster fire.” Huh? Married? I was completely lost. I checked the caller ID. Yep, definitely Leo. Sounded like him, too. Only he would insult my decorating abilities so creatively. But… since when was I getting married? “I’m getting married? What are you talking about?” “What?” Leo sounded even more shocked than I was. “Thomas, are you still half-asleep? You’re marrying Ava! You seriously don’t know?” Ava? Who the hell was Ava? I shot back immediately, “Don’t mess with me, man. I don’t know any Ava. I’ve been single forever!” “You’ve been dating for years! Are you messing with me? Look at the damn wall, dude! Your wedding photos are all over the place!” No way. I scrambled to my feet and looked around. There were no pictures anywhere. The walls were bare… wait. On the living room wall, there was a strange, blank rectangle, with faint traces of adhesive around the edges. It looked like a frame used to hang there, but it had been taken down. I tried to remember what I might have hung there, but drew a blank. I shrugged it off. “Leo, there are no wedding photos here. And who is Ava…?” A sudden, absurd thought hit me. “You didn’t set me up with a ghost, did you? After all we’ve been through, you’d do that to me?” “A ghost? I’ll show you a ghost! Stay put, I’m coming over to knock some sense into you!” 5 Leo stormed in, yelling that I deserved a punch in the face. But I honestly couldn’t remember anyone named Ava, or any wedding. He snatched my phone and pulled up my social media feed. “Eight out of every ten posts are about her! See for yourself!” I looked. Nothing. My most recent post was from three years ago: “Happy New Year.” Leo froze, scrolling furiously up and down, completely baffled. “Did you delete everything? Or did Ava? Did you two have a fight?” I threw my hands up. “I seriously don’t know her.” Leo studied my face, then quickly started a video call with this “Ava.” The call connected, revealing a sterile, but cozy, hospital room. The woman named Ava smiled calmly into the camera. “Leo, what’s up?” “Ava, what did you do to him? He’s acting crazy, says he doesn’t know you!” Leo shoved the phone in my face, forcing a confrontation. I looked at the woman on the screen. A complete stranger. No recognition at all. Her eyes flickered, studying me with a mix of probing curiosity and expectation. “Thomas, hello.” “Oh, hi. You must be Ava?” I said politely. She subtly relaxed, a flicker of relief crossing her face. She seemed pleased with my reaction. “I’m Ava. We were together, but you fell and hit your head at home and forgot about me. When you remember, I’ll come back to you.” “For now,” she continued, her gaze shifting slightly, as if inventing the story on the spot, “my brother has cancer, and I have to take care of him. I hope you don’t mind.” Her story sounded so rehearsed it made me suspicious. Who was this person, and why was she lying to me? Before I could ask, a man in the hospital bed behind her started coughing violently. Ava’s attention snapped to him. She gave me a quick wave and ended the call. Leo was completely lost. “What the hell does she mean? Like you forgetting her is no big deal? And that guy in the bed is her brother? Since when does she have a brother?” The man was bundled up, wearing a cap that obscured his face, but I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. I didn’t know him. So I didn’t care. “You guys have fried my brain. I’m done. Let’s go grab some wings.” “Hold on. Something’s not right with Ava,” Leo said, shaking his head. “I’m going to the hospital to check things out for you. You stay here.” And with that, he appointed himself chief detective and rushed off to the hospital, determined to get to the bottom of it. By the time he came back, I’d bought a mountain of snacks and was vegging out in front of the TV. Leo burst in, shouting, “Thomas, how can you just sit there and eat? Ava’s cheating on you! She’s at the hospital taking care of some guy named Jacob Lin! He’s not her brother!” I didn’t even pause, just stuffed another chip in my mouth. “Don’t know him. Not my problem. Not interested.” “She’s your fiancée! She’s about to check that guy out of the hospital, and they’re going to have a wedding and go on a honeymoon!” Leo’s face was dark with anger. He’d heard it all from the nurses. They were all touched by Ava’s devotion, praising her for sticking by her cancer-stricken boyfriend to fulfill his dying wish. A true saint, they called her. I thought about it for a second, then broke into a grin. “Look on the bright side. If she really was my future wife, this is great news, right? At least we didn’t actually get married.” “And if she was going to cheat on me anyway,” I added, “isn’t forgetting her the best thing that could’ve happened?” Leo stared at me, speechless. 6 Leo couldn’t argue with my logic, but he wasn’t ready to let it go. He went back to digging for more information on Ava. Just three days later, Ava and this Jacob Lin held their wedding. It was a simple ceremony in a small chapel. No family, no friends. Just the two of them, hand in hand, exchanging emotional vows. Leo showed me a video he’d secretly recorded, his anger simmering. “What is wrong with her? You, her actual fiancé, forget who she is, and she just turns around and marries someone else? What is she playing at?” “Probably just helping the guy fulfill a last wish,” I reasoned. “You said he has cancer, right? Marrying Ava must have been his dream.” Leo considered this, which only made him angrier. So he went digging again. This time, he came back with an update: Ava and Jacob were on a trip. Looked like a cross-country tour. They probably wouldn’t be back until they’d seen it all. And he was right. Leo couldn’t find a trace of Ava after that. He decided he’d just have to wait for her to come back to give her a piece of his mind. I was perfectly happy with that. At least Leo would finally stop bugging me. For the next three months, I slipped back into my blissful single life. I couldn’t have been happier. Except… sometimes, in the dead of night, I’d wake from a dream and my arm would reach for the empty space beside me. It would find nothing, but the gesture felt so natural, as if someone was supposed to be there. I’d jolt awake, staring at the empty side of the bed, a hollow ache in my chest, my eyes surprisingly damp. It was the strangest feeling. Could it be… The place was haunted! Yeah, that had to be it. Definitely haunted. I started crashing at Leo’s place after that. On the last day of the third month, I went back to my apartment to grab some things and found a package at the door. I opened it. Inside were photos. Piles and piles of them. Wedding photos, landscape shots, selfies, posed pictures. They all had one thing in common: only two people appeared in them. Ava and Jacob. Their happiness radiated from every print. Beneath the stack of photos was a letter. I opened it. It was from Jacob, addressed to me. Thomas Song, I don’t know how Ava convinced you to be so understanding, but your generosity has moved me deeply. I’m dying. These photos are the last remnants of my time on earth. I’m sending them to you, hoping you can feel my joy and my sorrow, and that you’ll keep them safe for me. I’m back in the hospital now, waiting for the end. Ava is already on her way home to you. She said she had to be back today. I couldn’t stop her. I suppose I lost in the end. 7 The letter was long and rambling. It gave me a headache. What a psycho. I tossed the photos and the letter into a corner. I’d deal with them tomorrow. At that exact moment, the front door opened. The woman herself, Ava, burst in, clutching a music box, her face slick with sweat. I scowled. “What are you doing? This is my home.” “Thomas, I made it back! In one more minute, you’ll remember me!” She sat down without being invited, placing the music box on the table in front of me. “What is that thing? I’m calling the cops!” I snapped, my instincts screaming that the box was dangerous. I felt a visceral urge to stay away from it. Ava ignored me, her eyes glued to her watch. Just as I was about to dial, she flipped the lid of the music box open. Instantly, a flash of white light and a strange melody flooded my senses, making me drowsy. Ava smiled, her voice full of affection. “Thomas, I’m back. I’m still your fiancée. Let’s pick a date and get married.” “I’ve been thinking about you constantly these past few months. I knew you’d never forgive me if you knew the truth, which is why I had to resort to this… making you forget.” “Now, I’m going to make you remember me, but you’ll forget the unpleasantness of these last three months. For you, these three months never happened…” Her voice was a soft, gentle murmur. As she began her countdown, I grew heavier, my consciousness fading. “[10… 9… 8… 7… 3… 2… 1]” On the final count, my eyes snapped open. I stared at the anxious, hopeful face in front of me. This was so weird. She didn’t seem to think so. Her gaze was deep, filled with a tenderness that could melt any man’s heart. She whispered my name. “Thomas, you’re awake. I love you!” She buried her head in my chest, clinging to me as if terrified of losing me, her words spilling out in a rush. “It’s okay, it’s all over now. Let’s get married!” I blinked, confused and repulsed. I pushed her away and asked, very seriously, “I’m sorry, but who are you?”