Category: English

1 In my past life, my family was cursed with a secret I couldn’t share: they could all hear the thoughts of the girl who had stolen my place. Only I was deaf to her voice. Returning to the Powell mansion, I stood before them in faded, threadbare clothes. Her sweet, venomous thoughts filled the air: [Her foster parents aren’t poor. She’s dressing like this to win sympathy.] My parents’ warmth turned to ice. Years of hardship had given me stomach cancer; every dollar went to painkillers. But Jane spun lies in her mind: [She’s not sick—she’s a gambling addict. Those are drugs.] Their flicker of concern became disgust. They dragged me to rehab. When I vomited from pain, she accused me of being pregnant. I begged and pleaded, but the Powells wouldn’t listen. They locked me away, and the staff tortured me until I died. When I opened my eyes, I was back at the beginning. But this time, I could hear her too. I looked straight at Jane and said, “I can hear you.” … The moment the Powells found me, I was digging through a dumpster for something to eat, my hands trembling from hunger. Jane stared at my patched-up jeans, and her silent voice slithered into my mind. [Her foster parents aren’t even poor. She must be dressing like this on purpose, scavenging for scraps just to win Mom and Dad’s sympathy. Should I say something?] Instantly, the pity on my birth parents’ faces curdled into revulsion. Just like before. In my past life, I couldn’t hear her thoughts, couldn’t understand why their expressions changed so abruptly. I just assumed they were disgusted by how dirty I was. But this time was different. I looked directly at Jane. “I can hear you,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “And I’m not wearing these clothes for sympathy. They’re the only ones I own. I’m digging through the trash because my foster parents don’t feed me. If I don’t, I starve.” Jane’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected me to be so direct, to voice her inner thoughts out loud. She bit her lip, her mind racing. [Can she really hear me? How can she lie without even blushing? I looked into it. Her foster parents treated her like a princess…] As my parents’ gazes filled with suspicion, I shoved up the sleeve of my tattered shirt, revealing a roadmap of old scars and fresh bruises. “Did you really look into it?” I challenged Jane. “Because all they ever did was beat me. I can’t remember a day in my life when I wasn’t covered in wounds. If you don’t believe me, take me to a hospital for an examination. But stop slandering me in your head.” Jane’s face went pale. She shrank behind Mrs. Powell, her thoughts turning pitiful. [She’s terrifying. She’s hurting herself just to get Mom and Dad’s attention.] [She doesn’t even need to do all this. She’s their real daughter. They’d love her anyway.] I turned to the Powells. “Take me to a hospital.” Seeing the marks covering my body, their eyes reddened with a fresh wave of pity, their faces a canvas of confusion. Who was telling the truth? Mr. Powell stepped forward, trying to smooth things over. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said to me. “Your sister… we’ve spoiled her. Don’t take what she thinks to heart. She’s just scared we’re going to cast her out.” I knew Jane’s place in their hearts was secure. She was the one who had been by their side all these years. I agreed to come back, but not for their affection. Last time, their blindness to Jane’s manipulations cost me my chance at treatment. This time, I wouldn’t let her silent lies destroy me. They ushered me into their car, ready to take me to my new home. But a sharp, agonizing pain seized my stomach. My face went white, my body started to tremble uncontrollably, and I fumbled in my pocket for my pills. I had just gotten the bottle open when Jane’s voice echoed in my head again. [Oh my god, she’s an addict. That’s not a painkiller bottle, it’s full of drugs. This is so bad…] The concern on my parents’ faces vanished, replaced by that familiar look of revulsion. Mr. Powell stopped the car, reaching over to snatch the bottle from my hands. But I was faster. I swallowed two pills and, in one swift motion, shoved a few more into his open mouth. I clamped my hand over his lips, tilting his head back like you would a stray cat you’re trying to deworm, and held it there until he swallowed. 2. Only then did I let go. “Elara!” my mother shrieked. “What are you doing?” The medicine was already working, dulling the fire in my stomach. I shrugged. “We should probably head to the hospital. If you start having withdrawals, you’ll have to check into rehab with me.” Jane’s face was ashen, her mind scrambling to regain control. [She’s terrifying. The drugs must be making her act like this. We have to get her to a facility, quickly—] Before she could finish the thought, my hand shot out and I slapped her across the face. Then I gave her the same treatment, forcing a few pills down her throat. As she choked them down, I looked at her with a cold smile. “You know damn well what they are.” Jane fell silent. My father’s face was a thunderous mask, but he had no time to rage at me. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped toward the nearest hospital. They ran every test imaginable: blood draws, an endoscopy, even a full toxicology screen. There was no sign of drug addiction. Still, my father wasn’t convinced. He insisted I was just a casual user and forced me through another battery of tests. That’s when they found it. The cancer. And the pills, they confirmed, were nothing more than high-strength painkillers. My parents couldn’t meet my eyes, their faces etched with shame. I looked at them. “So, are we still going to rehab?” My mother forced a laugh and reached for my hand. “Elara, honey, what have you been through? How could you have gotten cancer?” My voice was flat. “By living a life where I never knew where my next meal was coming from.” “The people who raised me swapped me with their daughter, Jane. They wanted me dead. A census worker showed up at their door, so they were forced to register me. They saw me as a waste of food, starving me for days on end before tossing me scraps like a dog.” “As I got older, I started scavenging from dumpsters just to survive. The constant hunger turned into a chronic illness, but there was no money for a doctor. I just learned to live with the pain. When I was old enough to work, I could finally afford to eat, but by then, it was already cancer. Every cent I made went to painkillers. With no money left for food, I went back to the dumpsters.” “When you found me, I thought… I thought I’d finally have enough to eat.” I let out a bitter laugh. The guilt on their faces deepened. Jane chose that moment to make her move. She approached my bed, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Elara,” she sobbed, slapping her own cheek. “It’s my fault. I’m the one who stole your life…” Her strategy had shifted. Now, she was playing the victim. [Mom and Dad must hate me now. It’s all my fault. I’m the child of her foster parents. If it weren’t for me, my sister wouldn’t have suffered like this.] As predicted, my parents immediately rushed to her side. “Jane, honey, it’s not your fault. It’s your parents’ fault.” “That’s right, you had no choice in the matter! They switched you, you didn’t ask for this…” Just then, the hospital room door burst open, and my foster parents rushed in. My foster mother grabbed my hand, her face a mask of deep concern. “Elara, sweetie, are you okay? Why would you go digging through the trash?” she cried. “We gave you everything, we raised you like a princess! We know you were upset that we couldn’t buy you all the designer bags you wanted, but you can’t punish us like this…” She broke down into heart-wrenching sobs. My foster father hung his head, wiping away fake tears. “We’re just glad you’ve found your real parents. They’re wealthy. They can give you the life you deserve. It’s our fault we couldn’t provide for you…” 3. Every word was a carefully crafted performance, painting me as a vain, ungrateful brat. Jane’s thoughts chimed in right on cue: [But Elara said they were horrible to her?] My mother’s face flushed with anger. She spun around and slapped me. “Elara! Is this what you call being mistreated?” she spat. “I can’t believe you’d lie like that, pretending to be a victim just because they wouldn’t buy you a handbag! You manipulated us, tried to turn us against Jane!” “Thank god your foster parents showed up to set the record straight!” My foster mother immediately dropped to her knees. “Please, don’t hit her!” she begged. “If you have to hit someone, hit me! It’s my fault, I didn’t raise her right… I never laid a hand on her, not once! You can’t either!” My mother was furious. “This is what happens when you spoil a child! Look what she’s become!” But my foster mother remained on the floor, weeping with guilt. “It’s not her fault. We just couldn’t give her the life she wanted.” [Her foster parents’ clothes are so old and worn out. They look so poor,] Jane thought, fanning the flames. My parents looked at the couple—their threadbare clothes, their graying hair, the exhausted lines etched on their faces. The image of me, their daughter, throwing a tantrum over luxury goods while these poor people struggled to raise me, sent my mother into a fresh rage. “They worked so hard for you, and you repay them by pretending to be homeless? You’re unbelievable.” Having already died once, I felt strangely calm. “They’re lying,” I said simply. “And the hospital already confirmed I have cancer.” My foster father immediately shot back, “Elara, how could you lie to your birth parents like this? Just because the doctor is your cousin doesn’t mean you can make up something so serious!” I’d had enough. I walked to the door and raised my voice. “Excuse me! Doctor! My family says I’m faking my cancer and they want to stop my treatment!” A passing nurse and my own doctor, who was standing down the hall, both turned and hurried over. “What is wrong with you people?” the nurse scolded them. “Your daughter has stomach cancer and you want to refuse treatment? If she gets help now, she has a chance. If you do nothing, she might not have more than a few months…” My doctor’s brows furrowed. “Who here is Elara’s legal guardian?” My foster parents paled, realizing their lie had been exposed. The foster father stepped forward, trying to salvage the situation. “We are, we are. She’s just throwing a little tantrum, you know how kids are. We’ll just take her home now and get in touch with you later.” It was a clever move. To the doctor, it would sound like I was being difficult and they were responsible parents. To my real parents, it would confirm their suspicion that the doctor was my cousin. I didn’t bother arguing. I looked straight at the doctor. “My foster parents are claiming you’re my cousin, and that I paid you to fake my diagnosis.” The doctor’s face darkened. “That’s absurd! I’m nobody’s cousin!” He immediately called for the hospital administrator. Seeing things spiral out of control, my foster father tried to grab me and leave. The doctor blocked their path, his expression grim. “This is a serious accusation that affects my professional integrity. You will wait here for the police to arrive and take your statements.” Jane’s face went white. “You can’t call the police!” she blurted out. I smiled.

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It was New Year’s Eve. I cooked a feast, waiting for Olivia to come home. Olivia didn’t even glance at the food. She just packed her bags. She spoke coldly: “I can’t spend the holiday with you this year.” I didn’t say a word, just quietly ate the meal alone. At midnight, Olivia’s ex-boyfriend, Luke, posted a photo on social media right on time. Olivia was leaning intimately against his shoulder, with grand, sparkling fireworks outside the window. The caption: “She said she’d drop everything and be here for me, as long as I asked.” I didn’t lose control. I just calmly tapped the “Like” button. Olivia called immediately, her voice urgent and panicked: “Don’t be mad. I promise I’ll spend next New Year’s with you…” I laughed bitterly: “Too bad there won’t be a next year for us.” … Olivia came home after the holiday. I usually met her at the bottom of our apartment complex, but not this time. She texted: “Where are you?” I was eating lunch. I casually replied: “Come on up yourself. I’m eating.” A moment later, I was in the kitchen washing dishes when Olivia came in, dragging her suitcase and catching her breath. “I haven’t eaten either. Make me a bowl of noodles.” Normally, I would rush to cook for her, but I just said flatly: “I’m busy. Go eat downstairs.” Olivia glared at me, annoyed, but she suppressed her anger. “I know you’re still mad about New Year’s. But please, stop giving me the cold shoulder. I’m genuinely hungry.” I dried my hands after finishing the dishes. “I’m not mad.” Olivia didn’t believe me. “Luke is alone in the city. Regardless of our past, I should be there for him.” I replied calmly: “Yeah, I know.” Olivia stared into my eyes, trying to read me. Finally, she looked exhausted. “This is exhausting. Can you just stop being dramatic?” I stared back: “I’m not being dramatic. You don’t need to explain.” Olivia fell silent. She pulled an airplane model from her suitcase and handed it to me. She looked down her nose at me and said flatly: “New Year’s gift.” The plane model was poorly packaged, wrinkled and crushed, a stark contrast to the perfectly wrapped gifts Luke showed off online. I didn’t show any pleasure. I just replied politely: “Thanks.” I didn’t react further. Olivia’s face tightened. She asked angrily: “That’s it?” I replied blandly: “That’s it.” Olivia’s face turned white with rage. She held out her hand to me: “Where’s mine?” I finally remembered. I apologized: “Sorry, I forgot. I’ll transfer you money. Buy something for yourself.” I grabbed my phone and quickly sent her the money. Olivia’s eyes widened. She couldn’t believe I had forgotten. Exchanging New Year’s gifts was our tradition. I had always maintained it, even when she forgot mine. An awkward silence filled the room. I grabbed my jacket from the sofa and headed for the door. Olivia called out urgently: “Where are you going?” I answered simply: “Out to grab a drink with friends.” With that, I closed the door, ignoring her calls. After I started dating Olivia, she said she didn’t like me drinking, so I quit. As a result, my friends thought I was boring and controlled. My phone stopped ringing for parties. Now, I was finally going to drink to my heart’s content. Chapter 2 Three rounds in, my friends complained: “I thought you got a girlfriend and forgot about us! Don’t ever do that again.” I nodded, assuring them: “Invite me to any party. I’ll be there, anytime.” After I started dating Olivia, I put all my focus on her. My job and my life revolved around her. I lost my own social circle. Now, I saw how foolish that was. I checked my phone. Olivia had declined the money transfer. I got home around 1 AM. I flipped the light on and saw Olivia sitting on the sofa. I felt a moment of confusion, wondering if I was seeing things. Olivia saw me drunk and looked disappointed, not offering to help. She said disdainfully: “Frank, can you try to have some self-respect? If you’re jealous, just say so. Drinking like this just makes me look down on you.” My head was spinning. I clung to a chair and sat down. Olivia smelled the alcohol on me and subtly wrinkled her nose. “I told you I don’t like you drinking.” “Luke and I aren’t what you think. We’re just friends right now. You don’t need to get drunk over him.” I clutched my head, slurring: “You’re overthinking it… I’m drinking because… I’m happy.” Seeing me like that, her voice became sharp: “Enough! I gave you a chance. What more do you want? Don’t push me. My patience is limited. I can’t tolerate your endless demands.” My head was pounding. Her voice made it worse. “Stop yelling. I’m going to sleep.” Olivia sighed, calming down, and stood up to help me. But I avoided her. I clung to my last thread of sanity, stumbled into the guest room, and locked the door. I ignored her knocking. I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. When I woke up, Olivia was silently watching TV, her face dark. I knew she was angry. But I didn’t try to soothe her. I washed up and walked out. Chapter 3 I went to the office and handed in my resignation. I took this job just to be close to Olivia. Now, it wasn’t necessary. The CEO tried to keep me, but I firmly refused. A few days ago, the international company I applied to finally sent an acceptance letter. It was my dream job, but I’d turned it down for Olivia. Thankfully, it wasn’t too late to chase my dream. After resigning, I started wrapping up my work. I called a friend with the good news. He was happy for me, but paused. “What about Olivia? Is she going with you?” I gave a bitter laugh: “No. Just me. We’re almost over.” My parents were gone. The only people I knew were a few friends and Olivia. I used to think my home was wherever Olivia was. Now, I felt rootless. I was a leaf drifting to wherever the wind took me. I got home, and Olivia was heading out. She was dressed perfectly in shorts, her legs long and beautiful. She was carrying a birthday cake. I knew where she was going. It was Luke’s birthday. She was on the phone, speaking joyfully: “Stop guessing! If I tell you the gift, it won’t be a surprise! Just wait for me.” She laughed giddily, revealing her dimples. Her genuine smile was rare to me. She smiled, but seeing me, her face instantly dropped. She gave a look of pure disdain. She put on her shoes, and the door slammed shut. I knew she was giving me the silent treatment, which was usually over Luke. Every time, I would scramble to please her. Even if she ignored my texts, I would try harder. But this time, I just searched for foreign recipes online, practicing them at home. I needed to adapt. Chapter 4 Lying in bed, I saw Luke’s social media post: “I’m so grateful that after everything, you’re still by my side.” The comments were from Olivia’s friends: “So touching. I’m happy Olivia is happy.” Olivia’s friends always saw me as the intruder between Luke and Olivia. They believed Olivia would be happier without me. Looking at Olivia’s own comment, I saw they weren’t wrong. Olivia commented: “Everything happens for a reason.” I watched their sickening interactions. One of her friends commented: “Stop posting! Frank will see this and cause drama!” In the past, I politely asked Olivia to keep her distance from Luke. Her friends called me controlling and small-minded. Olivia just let them, then criticized me for not being “man enough” to be generous. But I ignored them this time. I closed the app and watched videos. I fell asleep. Olivia woke me up when she returned. She shouted: “Frank, your girlfriend was out late, and you didn’t check on me? My friend’s boyfriends call constantly! What is wrong with you?” Chapter 5 I looked at her, confused. Why was she so upset? I used to check on her constantly, and she snapped: “I’m not a trophy! Give me some freedom! I’m suffocating!” Now that I didn’t call, she was upset. I had no idea what she wanted. But I didn’t bring up the past. I just said calmly: “You were out with friends. Why would I call? You and Luke are just friends. I have nothing to worry about.” Olivia’s eyes widened in disbelief. She was shocked I spoke so calmly about Luke. She quickly explained: “That post was just a memorial. It means nothing. Don’t worry.” I shook my head, about to speak, but she continued: “Why? Do you think I shouldn’t have gone to Luke’s birthday? We’ve known each other for ten years! We dated briefly, but now we’re just friends! I had to go!” I replied understandingly: “I know. It’s late. Go to bed.” Olivia was silent. She stared at me, trying to confirm I wasn’t angry. She reached out to hug me, but I subtly moved away. I said flatly: “Are you sleeping in the master or the guest room?” Chapter 6 Olivia looked surprised. I had never rejected her intimacy before; I usually craved it. Angry and embarrassed, Olivia slammed the guest room door and went to the master bedroom. I went straight to sleep. Since I stopped obsessing over her, falling asleep was easy. The next morning, my college professor called. He found out I was going abroad and wanted to say goodbye. I couldn’t refuse his offer to gather the class together. I was surprised to see Olivia there. Of course. She was his favorite student. Next to her was Luke. Even for a casual reunion, she brought him. Olivia saw me and gestured for me to sit down. I ignored her. I wouldn’t disturb them. Luke saw me and smirked. He quickly composed himself and apologized to me. “Sorry to intrude on your reunion. I got bored, so Olivia brought me.” Chapter 7 Olivia tried to explain to me several times, but failed. I politely raised my glass: “The professor doesn’t mind. I certainly don’t.” I drank and checked my phone. Olivia had sent several texts: “I only brought him because it was convenient. Don’t worry.” “If you mind, I won’t bring him next time.” The last text read: “Let’s go home together after dinner.” I cleared my throat and texted back: “No need. You and Luke can go. I drove.” I focused on my dinner, ignoring her messages. The conversation flowed, and everyone reminisced. My professor got sentimental. He stood up, raising his glass to me. “You were my best student. Your dream was always to study abroad. I don’t know why you stayed here.” “But now, I’m so happy you’re finally going! Here’s to your journey and a successful career!” I smiled gratefully and downed the drink. Olivia looked stunned, as if hearing unbelievable news. Chapter 8 “Professor, what are you talking about? What’s this about going abroad?” Olivia’s voice was sharp. The professor didn’t know we were dating. He replied casually: “You don’t know? Frank is going abroad. This is our last dinner with him. It’ll be hard to see him again.” Olivia’s eyes were bloodshot. She rushed up and pulled me out of the room. We stood against the wall. I remained calm. She spoke first. “Abroad? What do you mean? Why didn’t you discuss this with me? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice trembled with disbelief and fear. I realized my mistake. “Oh, that. You were spending New Year’s with Luke, so I didn’t want to bother you.” My voice was distant and formal, drawing a clear boundary. Olivia looked embarrassed but grabbed my arm. “No matter what, I’m your girlfriend. You should share things with me.” I nodded surprisingly. I used to tell her everything, and she complained I was annoying. She sighed and asked: “How long will you be gone?” I lied: “About a year.” I planned to stay permanently. Olivia looked shocked. “That long?” I kept my head down, letting her believe the lie. She finally said: “Let’s go home together later.” She looked hopeful. Chapter 9 Before I could answer, Luke walked out of the room. His eyes were glazed over from the alcohol. He leaned into Olivia. Olivia looked frantic, checking my reaction. “He’s drunk. We never touch when he’s sober.” She couldn’t push him away. Olivia always said she hated the smell of alcohol, but she didn’t flinch from Luke. She ignored Luke, looking at me: “Wait for me. I’ll get him a ride, and then we’ll go home.” Before I could answer, Luke whined: “I’m dizzy. Take me home, okay?” He rubbed against her, a gesture that looked practiced. I spoke calmly: “No need. He obviously needs you. I’ll go home by myself.” Olivia looked desperate. “What about you? I’ll take you first.” I gave her a knowing look: “I’ll take a cab. Just drop me at the next corner.” She hesitated but pulled over. I got out. She looked worried. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can skip him.” I urged her: “Go. You’ll be late.” She drove off. I went to complete my paperwork. I looked at the date. Ten days until I left the country. Back home, I saw Olivia’s text: “I dropped Luke off.” “He kept throwing up. I might stay here tonight.”

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My brother’s crush yelled herself hoarse at me. “My brother has a gorgeous girlfriend, does yours?” “My brother’s parents are whole and healthy, are yours?” I sneered, “My brother would eat dirt. Would yours?” That night, my brother came home disheartened after being rejected for the seventh time. He found me crouching by the door, smiling with a face full of flattery. He paused, then asked with weary affection, “What mischief have you been up to now?” The words were barely out when his phone rang. The man on the other end spoke with hesitant frustration: “You win. Okay?” “I genuinely couldn’t bring myself to eat that stuff.” 1 He hung up and called out to me as I tried to sneak back into the house. “Lola Clark. Get back here.” I flinched. Full name meant he was seriously mad. I shuffled back, head bowed, and looked up at him. My whole body screamed one thing: guilty. “Bro.” I called out sweetly, but his gaze was steady and unwavering. “I didn’t mean it.” Since I was little, I knew my brother was the “Villain” of this story. And his opposite was the “Hero,” Mark Hamilton, who had success in both career and love. Mark had a loudmouthed sister, Tina, who was in my class. Every day, she’d boast in class, “My brother finally got his girl! He has the most beautiful girlfriend now. She bought me so many dresses, I love her!” In contrast, one day my brother, Luke, was half an hour late picking me up from school. His eyes were red, and he looked completely lost. I tugged on his sleeve and asked what was wrong. He forced a smile, leaned down, and ruffled my hair. “Nothing, sweetie. Just… the person your brother loves already loves someone else.” “So what if she does? If you like her, keep going for it,” I tilted my head, looking at him. “Are you scared?” After a parent-teacher meeting, Tina, the Loudmouth Sister, started handing out snacks her parents had prepared. “My parents seriously love me and my brother so much. They give me this much food every day. I’m honestly sick of it.” Her sharp eyes landed on me. “Lola, why is it always your brother who comes to parent-teacher meetings? Don’t your parents care about you?” I put down my textbook and told her honestly, “My brother and I grew up in an orphanage. We don’t have parents.” “Someone doesn’t have parents?” Tina gasped. “Doesn’t that mean there are two fewer people in the world who love you and your brother? That’s so sad.” I knew she didn’t mean to be malicious, just a little tactless. So I replied, “I have my brother. That’s enough.” Maybe because we both had older brothers, Loudmouth Tina often clung to me. She started and ended every sentence with “my brother.” The argument happened that afternoon. Tina said, “It’s annoying. The pretty girl is already with my brother, but some clueless person is still asking her out, trying to steal my pretty sister!” Since she was insulting my brother, I wasn’t going to let it go. We started fighting, and inevitably, the topic returned to our brothers. Tina was smug. “My brother has twenty properties and seven sports cars. Does yours?” “My brother has a gorgeous girlfriend, does yours?” “My brother’s parents are whole and healthy, are yours?” … I was stumped. My brother didn’t have any of those things. But I couldn’t surrender now! So, I sneered, “My brother would eat dirt. Would yours?” That one sentence killed the conversation. Tina was speechless. When school ended, I saw Mark, the Hero, picking up Tina. Tina was clinging to Mark’s leg, tearfully trying to force him to eat dirt. I didn’t dare watch anymore. I stared straight ahead and walked home, stiff-legged. 2 Uncharacteristically, my brother didn’t come to pick me up. Usually, if he couldn’t make it, he’d text Mrs. Peterson next door and ask her to grab me when she picked up her grandson. I waited by the school gates for a long time but saw no sign of Luke Clark. Seeing the sky getting dark, I decided to walk home alone. When I arrived, I saw a thick stack of papers on the desk. They included my personal ID information, daily habits, and even detailed notes like ‘she only eats the leaves of vegetables.’ A sense of dread crept in. I put down my backpack and secretly slipped into my brother’s study. Luke was never cautious with me. I easily opened his computer. The last song playing was “I once wished I were dead.” His recent search history included: “How to leave entire inheritance to minor child?” “Top ten best foster homes in the country.” “Will a brother’s death leave lasting trauma on a sister?” … I took a deep breath, shut down the computer, and restored the study to its original state. Then, I called Loudmouth Tina. Half an hour later, my brother came home. He held the un-delivered flowers, his eyes red-rimmed, his smile strained. If I remember correctly, this was Luke’s seventh failed attempt at confessing. The girl he loved was the Female Lead, Sarah. Sarah was destined to be with Mark, the Hero. But my brother was the Villain. He didn’t know that. He just believed he wasn’t good enough. I stepped forward and hugged Luke around the waist. I looked up at him. “Bro, you’re finally home!” “I’m cooking tonight! I made you dinner.” I brought out a pot of soup that was a bizarre color and smelled strange. “And my mid-term grades are out!” I presented him with three test papers. All three scores were single digits. Added together, they were still less than my brother’s age. Luke’s hand, holding the papers, started to tremble. I hit him with the next bomb. “Bro, my teacher wants you to take me to a doctor. She says I might have ADHD. What is ADHD?” My brother closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, the light was gone. He hesitated. “I remember you got straight A’s last semester?” “Yep,” I stirred the soup. “But learning is boring. When I grow up, I’m going to get tattoos. Uncle Mike next door has a full sleeve. So cool.” Luke frowned. “Lola Clark, where did you learn all this nonsense?” He lectured me seriously for half an hour. I hung my head and replied vaguely. After lecturing me, my brother put on a small apron, ready to go to the kitchen. Just then, his phone rang. I looked at him, feeling deeply guilty. Luke paused and asked with weary affection, “What mischief have you been up to now?” He answered the phone. The man on the other end spoke with hesitant frustration: “You win. Okay?” “I genuinely couldn’t bring myself to eat that stuff.” The meaning was vague, and before my brother could ask me for an explanation, my watch-phone rang. Loudmouth Tina was crying so loudly her voice echoed through the whole house. “Waaah, Lola! My brother absolutely refuses to eat dirt!” “He said he can do anything I want and give me anything I want. I just want him to eat dirt, and he won’t!” “Can I trade him for a brother who will eat dirt?” 3 A dead silence fell over the living room. I secretly glanced up to check Luke’s expression. He pushed the pot of soup away, set my test papers aside, and lifted his chin. “Sit down.” When my brother’s face is expressionless, it’s quite intimidating. I sat obediently across from him and confessed. “Bro, I messed up.” “That phone call just now, was that Mark Hamilton’s sister?” When I nodded, my brother asked, “Since when?” “Since when what?” I looked up, confused. Luke closed his eyes. “Trading brothers. When did you start wanting to trade me?” Before I could answer, my brother began to self-reflect. “I’m sorry, Lola. I haven’t been a good brother. With the company problems lately, I haven’t been able to pay attention to your feelings.” “I know I’m not a good brother. It’s completely normal that you like someone like Mark and want him to be your brother.” Luke looked downcast. He forced a smile. “I didn’t take good care of you.” Seeing my brother getting sadder, I jumped off the chair and grabbed his hand. “But I don’t want to trade brothers with Tina!” “You are the best brother in the whole world!” Luke stared blankly at my hand gripping his. “But I don’t have twenty properties and seven sports cars.” I shook my head firmly. “Doesn’t matter!” “I don’t have a gorgeous girlfriend.” “I don’t care!” “I don’t have parents either.” “I have my brother, and that’s enough.” “Hmm.” Luke spoke softly. “But your brother won’t eat that… stuff…” I instantly shut my mouth. At that moment, the front door was hammered violently. Loudmouth Tina’s penetrating voice carried inside. “Lola Clark! I’m here to trade brothers!” Two more people squeezed into the small living room. Tina swaggered in, dragging Mark by the wrist. She wasn’t shy at all. She looked around the living room, and her eyes lit up when they landed on Luke. They were like lightbulbs turning on. Tina was satisfied. She dramatically pushed Mark in front of me and patted my shoulder generously. “I’m giving you my useless brother first. You’re going to stay in my mansion tonight. I’m going to stay here with Big Brother Luke.” Mark, as the author’s beloved Hero, was flawless. His only minor flaw was that he was an absolute sim-p for his sister, who was thirteen years younger than him. He spoiled her rotten and listened to her every word. Knowing his sister was just being impulsive, he spoke apologetically. “Mr. Clark, can my sister stay here tonight? We can negotiate the payment.” “What do you mean, tonight?” Tina looked at her brother with disgust. “You’re so useless. I don’t want you anymore. From now on, I’m Big Brother Luke’s sister. I’m going to live here forever.” She pushed me forward. “Lola, all my dresses, my dolls, my snacks—they’re all yours. All you have to do is agree to trade brothers with me.” I was completely unprepared for Tina’s obsession with “trading brothers.” I was about to refuse when Luke, who had been silent the entire time, spoke. His face was calm. “Fine. She’ll trade with you.” 4 I rushed into my room. I grabbed clothes from the closet and haphazardly stuffed them into my little backpack. The living room was full of Tina’s cheers. I could faintly hear Mark cautiously trying to persuade her. “Can I stay here with you, sis? I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.” Tina didn’t care. “Just leave the housekeeper here. You leave. Mr. Hamilton, we’re not related anymore. Don’t call me ‘sis’.” Mark was still trying to reason with her. I sniffled, suddenly wanting to cry. Luke didn’t want me. He saw me as a burden and had been planning to send me away all along. Even my failing grades and talk of tattoos didn’t make him care anymore. My brother didn’t want me. The door gently closed. Luke had come in without my noticing. He emptied the clothes I’d shoved into the backpack and folded them again, one by one. He even remembered to pack my favorite elephant thermos. After packing, Luke gently pinched my cheek. “Let’s go.” “Bro.” I spoke sullenly, staring at his retreating back. “Are you giving me up?” Luke seemed to freeze. After a moment, he turned around and forced another smile. “How could I?” Liars’ noses grow long. I sat in the Hamiltons’ car, clutching my backpack, and looked through the window at Luke, trying to memorize his appearance. He was leaning down, listening to Tina talk, occasionally smiling. Liar. Next time I saw Luke, his nose would definitely be long. I turned my head away, refusing to look at him anymore. The Hamilton mansion was bigger than I imagined. The car pulled up to the gate, and Sarah, the Female Lead, was already waiting there. I’d only heard about Sarah from Luke and Tina. The moment I saw her in person, I was momentarily stunned. Sarah was holding a small bear. She leaned closer to me, her eyes bright. The evening breeze moved her hair, carrying a faint scent of jasmine. “Welcome, little Lola.” My face felt hot. I buried my face in my backpack. “Uh-huh.” The adults must have coordinated. Dinner was all my favorite dishes. Maybe because I’d sampled my own horrifying soup earlier, I had no appetite. I quickly ate a few bites and left the table. I wandered through the Hamilton mansion and nearly got lost. Finally, Sarah led me to my room door. “Go inside and see! Do you like the room I decorated for you?” The room was covered in soft carpets, the closet held rows of pretty clothes, and various dolls were tucked into the corners. Luke spoiled me, but his small company had just started and was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. I had never stayed in a room this grand. “I love it.” I nodded and added, “Thank you, Sarah.” Sarah poked the small topknot on my head, satisfied, and left. In the middle of the night, I woke up with a stomachache. I must have gotten sick from that awful soup I made. I was covered in cold sweat. I fumbled for the bedside lamp switch, but I was unfamiliar with the room and couldn’t find it. My slippers were also nowhere to be found. Standing barefoot on the carpet, I looked around the dark, unfamiliar room, and an overwhelming wave of misery crashed over me. I crouched down, hugging my knees, curled up in a ball. The pain came in waves, but I gritted my teeth, refusing to make a sound. After what felt like ages, I heard faint voices outside the door. “Do you think Lola’s asleep?” “She didn’t eat much dinner. Text Luke again and ask if there’s anything else she likes to eat.” “The air conditioning seems too cold. Is she going to freeze?” … The door hadn’t been fully closed and was pushed open slightly. The warm, yellow light from the hallway spilled in. Through my cold-sweat-dampened hair, I struggled to look up. “Lola!” The moment Sarah hugged me, I clung desperately to her clothes. I was rushed to the hospital that night. Fortunately, it wasn’t serious. When I woke up, Sarah and Mark were still watching over me. Only a dim small lamp was on in the room. I shifted slightly, and they immediately noticed. “Are you still uncomfortable?” When I shook my head, Mark asked, “Can’t sleep? Want me to tell you a story?” “Forget it. You only know those few stories. Let me tell one.” “A long, long time ago…” I fell asleep listening to Sarah’s gentle voice. As I closed my eyes, I thought spitefully, I wish Mark and Sarah were really my brother and sister. Luke didn’t want me, so I wouldn’t want him either.

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After the Contender’s System finally gave up and left our world, my leading lady and I got married, had a child, and settled into our happily ever after. The live comments all agreed: it was the perfect ending for a high school romance story. Until one evening, while reading a fairytale to my six-year-old daughter, she looked up at me with dead seriousness and asked, “Daddy, what’s love?” “That’s easy,” I said without hesitation. “Mommy and Daddy got married and had you. That’s love.” Her little brow furrowed. “You’re a liar.” “Mommy said that even though she didn’t marry Uncle Connor, they’re the ones who have true love.” I froze. 1. Ruby was beaming, thrilled to have proven me wrong. “Mommy said if it wasn’t for you, she definitely would have married Uncle Connor. She said if she gets a next life, she’s going to find him first. They’ll watch the northern lights, ride horses, and feed baby lambs… and then have a baby of their own.” Her eyes sparkled. “Maybe then, I’ll get to be Uncle Connor’s daughter!” The “Uncle Connor” she was talking about was the story’s villainous rival, the one who had failed to win Sophie’s heart. “What else did she say?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Ruby rattled it off instantly. “Mommy said Uncle Connor’s birthday is April seventeenth. He likes to drink sake in the hot tub, his favorite food is anything Mommy cooks for him, and… and he loves cinnamon-roasted chestnuts.” She recited the list of trivial details flawlessly, as if they were precious family heirlooms. I suddenly realized that today was Connor’s birthday. And Sophie still wasn’t home. Seeing my silence, Ruby tossed the fairytale book aside with a huff and went to her room to work on her physics problems. I started to call after her, but a few lines of text shimmered into view before my eyes: 【LMAO, the child prodigy and her idiot dad!】 【Our girl Ruby is a true main character’s kid. So cool, so savage.】 【The male lead is so lucky. A genius daughter and a wife who’s been his high school sweetheart from day one.】 【Long distance, family illness, a failed startup… she stuck by him through it all.】 【I’m crying, I want a love like that…】 2. Is it really love? I sat there, lost in a fog, for a long time. Until a warm paper bag was pressed into my hands. A new comment, punctuated with heart emojis, scrolled across my vision: 【The CEO of a publicly traded company, waiting in line for three hours just to get him the first batch of roasted chestnuts of the season.】 【Married for seven years and still this pure.】 【What is he even doubting? Can’t he see she only has eyes for him?】 “Moved?” Sophie slipped off her scarf and smiled at me, leaning in on her tiptoes. It was our customary welcome-home kiss, a ritual we hadn’t missed in a decade. But this time, I caught the faint, sharp scent of cologne on her. I pulled back slightly, my eyes stinging. “Where did that scent come from?” Sophie’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly. “A male client,” she said airily. “It must have rubbed off on me.” She paused, then her smile returned. She kissed my chin lightly. “Overthinking again?” “Here, try the chestnuts I bought for you. Your favorite.” I did love chestnuts. Back when Sophie wasn’t the CEO with a sports car and a personal driver, she used to wake up at four in the morning to go to the market, just to buy me the freshest batch. Seeing me eat them happily, she would rest her chin on her hands and smile, completely content. The memory softened me. I let her slender fingers peel a chestnut and place it in my mouth. Sophie said nothing more, heading straight to the study to check on our daughter’s homework. They were in there for half an hour, longer than usual. I chewed mechanically, my mind heavy. Something about the chestnut tasted… different. It was cinnamon. The living room was dark, the lights unlit. Sophie emerged from the study and leaned languidly against the doorframe. She couldn’t see the color drain from my face. “Don’t take it so seriously,” she said, her voice low. “It’s just a kid talking.” I stared at her. The words I wanted to scream were lodged in my throat, but they dissolved into a quiet sigh. I let her curl onto my lap, a smirk on her lips, as her hot, demanding kisses fell over me. I didn’t know how to question her. Seven years of marriage. Even including our most reckless high school years, our relationship had always been smooth sailing. Just as the System that had appeared in our senior year had told us it would be. In this high school romance novel, I was the male lead, and Sophie was the female lead. We were destined to overcome every obstacle and reach our happy ending. Connor, the rival, was one of those obstacles. On the very first day of school, he reported us to the teacher for dating. The teacher separated us, moving Connor into the seat right beside her. After graduation, Sophie won a full scholarship to a prestigious university abroad. And, as the System ordained, Connor went with her. Same school, same major. For three years, Sophie kept me updated on everything. “Connor sat next to me in class today. So annoying. I didn’t say a single word to him.” “Passed a flower shop and thought of you. Bought some baby’s breath, your favorite.” “Why do I keep running into Connor everywhere! It has to be the System. I’m actively avoiding him.” “Honey, there was an earthquake in Berlin today. Connor and I almost died. I miss you so much.” … When Sophie returned, she threw herself into her work. For some reason, she kept putting off my proposals. Until one night, I got into a car accident on my way to deliver some documents to her. When I woke up in the hospital, Sophie was staring blankly at me, her face gaunt and exhausted. She gripped my hand, so choked up she couldn’t form a complete sentence. By the time I came to my senses, there was a ring on my finger. It was too big; it didn’t fit. But I was so lost in the joy of finally being with the woman I loved that I brushed it aside. By the time I remembered, Sophie had quietly had the ring resized. That was the day the System declared Connor’s mission a failure and prepared to send him back to his original world. On the day he was set to leave, he asked to see me. To everyone’s surprise, he wasn’t dejected or defeated. He just crossed his arms, looking at me with a mixture of pity and defiance. “Do you really think I lost?” 3. He hadn’t lost. After the novel’s official ending, Connor returned. When I heard the news, I was a wreck for days. But Sophie just reassured me with a lazy smile. “What’s there to worry about? I don’t even like him.” She stroked my hair, her tone teasing. “Why are you always so paranoid? Do you need me to literally cut my heart out to prove it to you?” Everyone thought she was head-over-heels in love with me. But no one could have predicted that in the seventh year of our marriage, I would be the one to seek out Connor. It wasn’t just because of what Ruby said. It was the chestnuts. I’m allergic to cinnamon. Sophie knew that. Under normal circumstances, it was a mistake she would never, ever make. In the coffee shop, before I could even state my purpose, Connor got straight to the point. “Yes, Sophie spent my birthday with me the other night.” “We rode the Ferris wheel, set off fireworks, and she waited in line to buy me cinnamon-roasted chestnuts.” I stared at him, numb. The heart that had been suspended in anxiety for so long finally crashed to the floor. “She never told you?” he continued smoothly. “For those years she was abroad, I lived right next door. We were together then.” I shook my head, my movements stiff. Connor smiled, a triumphant glint in his eyes. He held up his hand, showing me a ring on his finger. Engraved on it was Sophie’s name. Not an initial, not a monogram. Her full name, clear as day. “Sophie had this made for me herself before she came back. She has a matching one.” Connor’s smile turned sorrowful. “When she returned, we agreed to pretend nothing had ever happened. This ring is the only proof that behind your back, behind the System’s back, behind everyone’s back… we had a love of our own.” As if to prove his point, Connor had me take him to Sophie’s study. Amidst a pile of physics journals, he found it. The other ring. He stared at it, his eyes turning red. “She kept it… She still loves me.” I stood frozen. For a moment, even breathing felt exhausting. It was like a hole had been carved through my chest, and a cold wind was blowing right through it, chilling me to the bone. After a long moment, I picked up the small silver object. Engraved on it, just as clearly, was his name: Connor. The chisel marks were deep, as if etched into the very soul of the metal. The usually silent comment stream finally burst to life: 【…Wait, I thought this was a sweet romance that already ended? What is this plot twist?】 【I knew the vibe between the female lead and the rival was weird when they were abroad, especially after the earthquake. They were practically glued to each other.】 【So the female lead gained self-awareness and fell for the rival… but she was forced by the plot to have a happy ending with the male lead.】 【It’s the male lead’s plot armor. If they didn’t end up together, the System would have punished the rival.】 【OMG, this angsty, forbidden love story is so much better than the original vanilla romance!!!】 … I stared at the ring in my hand. This was the proof of their love. Then what about me? Was everything between Sophie and me a lie? But I had truly loved her. The girl I carried to the nurse’s office, the girl who twirled her pen and rested her chin on her hand while waiting for me to explain a problem. The girl who was my entire youth. And now, they were telling me I had trapped her with my “male lead” status. So what was I supposed to do now? Just… walk away? 4. A sound at the door. Connor looked up like a startled deer. “So… Sophie?” A woman stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable, her arms crossed. Her gaze passed over me, landing on Connor’s face with a complex mix of emotions. Time seemed to stop. 【Whoa, the long-awaited reunion…】 【She’s probably wanted to see him for ages but couldn’t because of her role.】 【Imagine pretending to be in a happy marriage with a man you don’t love every single day. My heart breaks for her.】 【This is so tragic. He’s the one she was willing to defy her own story for…】 【I used to say the female lead and the contender had chemistry and you all flamed me. Can I get an apology now?】 “It was my idea to come here, don’t blame him…” Connor choked out. Sophie didn’t answer. Her cold gaze shifted to me. “Give me the ring.” I slowly rose and walked toward her. As I passed the fireplace, I paused. The next second, a silver arc flashed through the air. For a split second, as it left my hand, I felt a strange sense of dissociation. “My ring—!” Connor cried out, unhesitatingly plunging his hand toward the roaring flames. Sophie lunged forward and pulled him back, her eyes filled with anguish. “Are you insane?” “Sophie…” he sobbed, “that was our ring… the only thing that proves what we had…” 【? What kind of male lead is this? He’s the real villain here.】 【Just because he’s the main character? I was starting to feel sorry for him, but now I see why she fell for the contender.】 【OMG his hand is so badly burned, she must be heartbroken for him.】 “Are you satisfied now?” Sophie gripped Connor’s wrist, turning to me with a cold sneer. “Connor is just a supporting character. I never did anything for him. I gave all my love to you…” So? I lifted my gaze. “You love him, don’t you?” My voice was slow, careful, deliberate. Just like it had been all those years ago, under the shadow of the school building, when a seventeen-year-old me had worked up the courage to confess, “You like me a little too, don’t you?” It was all a lie. 5. Sophie’s eyes were downcast. The silence stretched. The quiet in the room was like cold water being poured over me, slow and deliberate, a repeated, chilling cut to my heart. Finally, she rubbed her temples and looked at me, exasperated. “What do you want from me?” “I have tried to be the perfect female lead. I was only good to you, I married you—” “And now you can’t even tolerate the existence of a single ring?” I looked at her, at the cold, angry lines of her face, and felt nothing but weariness. Maybe when you have enough wounds, the places that were once raw and bleeding just go numb. When I didn’t answer, Sophie turned her attention back to Connor, gently treating his burn. She was so careful, so terrified of hurting him. Her eyes held a tenderness that she once reserved only for me. The only difference was, the tenderness she showed me was an act. This was real. “Don’t be sad.” A small smile touched my lips. I held my hand out to Connor. Sophie instinctively shielded him, her eyes fixed on me, wary. The next second, my palm opened. “Here,” I said, my voice strangely docile. “Your precious love token is safe and sound.” Dead silence. Connor stared at the recovered ring in my hand. “Then what did you throw in the fire?” Sophie’s gaze fell to my empty ring finger. Her eyes widened, a flicker of something sharp and cold in them. I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Just like our relationship. From beginning to end, it had never been as important as I thought it was. 6. I’m not good at fighting. Sophie knew that. Whenever we argued, our method of resolution was to give each other space. It never lasted long. Usually, by the time dinner was over, my anger would have cooled, and I’d be wrapping my arms around her with a sheepish grin. So this time, as I walked tiredly toward the door, she stood to the side and watched, not stopping me. But just as I pushed the door open, her voice, cool and detached, followed me. “Today is Ruby’s birthday.” “Are you really going to let her watch her parents fight on her birthday?” I stopped. After a few seconds of silence, I went with her to pick up our daughter from school. Sophie was always busy with work; she rarely came to pick Ruby up. When Ruby saw her, her expression didn’t change, but her steps were noticeably lighter. At the amusement park, mother and daughter were deep in a discussion about the orbital velocity of celestial bodies, talking nonstop. I found it interesting and tried to chime in. Ruby shot me an annoyed look. “Daddy, you don’t understand any of this. Don’t interrupt.” Sophie tapped her on the head. “How can you talk like that? Your father graduated from a top university with a degree in physics, you know.” Ruby’s little brow furrowed. “Daddy’s the dumbest. There’s no way he understands physics.” I froze. The comments streamed past again: 【Hahaha, poor male lead, getting dissed by his own daughter.】 【Don’t blame her, Liam. She’s just too smart. In her eyes, even you’re just a simpleton, lol.】 Ruby suddenly stopped walking. She turned to me, uncharacteristically sweet. “Daddy, can you buy me an ice cream?” Neither she nor Sophie liked sweets. I hesitated, but went anyway. The ice cream truck was on the other side of the park. Afraid it would melt on the way back, I ran. When I returned, out of breath, they were gone. 【Ruby is so smart, she came up with a random excuse just to get him out of the way.】 【What can you do? The rival is just too charming. He didn’t just win over the female lead, he won over her daughter too.】 【Stop wandering around, Liam. They went to rent a boat on the lake.】 【So wholesome. This is what a real family looks like.】

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The Prom Queen bound herself to a “Slimming System” and chose me as her reference point. Her weight is eternally locked at exactly half of mine. When I weighed 220 pounds, she was 110. She had the perfect body, the kind everyone envied. When I dropped to 210, she was 105. She was worshipped, surrounded by endless simps. But with the prestigious Dance Conservatory Showcase coming up, she lived in constant terror that I might eat a single extra bite. So, she weaponized the entire football team. She sent her minions to humiliate me daily, hoping the trauma would starve me into shedding a few more pounds for her benefit. “I swear to God, I’m going to get skinny!” Watching me make that vow, the Prom Queen smiled like she’d won the lottery. But let’s see if she can still smile on the day I hit 110 pounds. 1 My hair was plastered to my forehead, sweat dripping into my eyes. Every time my heavy frame jiggled with a step, a group of guys would link arms and cackle as they jogged past me. “Yo, Big Bertha! Shake the ground much?” “Careful, or she’ll cause a magnitude 8 earthquake! Hahaha!” This was my daily hell. Chloe’s lapdogs. A rotation of varsity jackets and cruel mouths, ensuring I never had a moment of peace. Morning run, cafeteria, study hall—they stuck to me like gum on a shoe. One of them feigned a shove at my back. His fingers were sweaty and gross against my thin shirt. A wave of nausea and panic rose in my throat. I flinched violently, my feet getting tangled in my own clumsiness. “Whoa, easy there, tank!” Laughter exploded around me. Not far away, under the shade of an oak tree, Chloe stood watching. She looked like an angel, eyes crinkled in a sweet smile. She flashed the boys an “OK” sign. The boys scattered. Thud. I tripped over nothing and slammed into the track. The pain was instant. My knees scraped against the red rubber granules, skin tearing open. Blood mixed with dirt. I lay there, sprawling and pathetic, too heavy to push myself up immediately. The wind slapped my face as other students ran by. No one stopped. No one helped. Instead, someone shouted, “Fatty hit the deck! Tsunami warning!” The track field erupted. “AHAHAHAHA!” I sat there as the wind picked up dead leaves around me. I felt like a piece of discarded trash in the middle of the lane. Staring at their retreating backs, I screamed the only thing I could think of. “I’m going to lose weight! I swear!” Chloe’s footsteps paused. She turned slowly, looking down at me from a distance. Her eyes didn’t hold pity. They held the gleam of a plan falling perfectly into place. 2 I discovered Chloe’s secret a week ago. It was school physicals day. Chloe weighed in at 105 lbs. The dance instructor told her, “If you lose another five pounds, you’ll be camera-perfect for the showcase.” I was walking past the equipment room when I heard her complaining to her childhood friend—and our class Quarterback—Brad. “I need to lose more… but that damn cow eats so much, how am I supposed to drop weight?” Cow? The insult made me freeze. I pressed my ear to the door. In the conversation that followed, my world tilted. A year ago, Chloe got a “Slimming System.” She designated me as the anchor. Her weight would always be exactly 50% of mine. Because I hovered around 200 lbs, she stayed a perfect 100. Even if my weight fluctuated, she stayed in that golden 90-110 range without lifting a finger. But there was a catch. She couldn’t control it directly. It was like a blind box. Two weeks ago, on my birthday, I decided to treat myself. I binged for two weeks and gained ten pounds. Chloe complained to Brad that she’d suddenly developed a “muffin top.” Recently, due to the bullying, I’d been skipping meals. I lost weight. Chloe lost weight. Now, she needed to lose 5 lbs. That meant I needed to lose 10. She could have just asked me. But she didn’t. She played dirty. Stealing my lunch tray. Spiking my water with laxatives. And getting Brad to lead the harassment campaign to shame me into starving. My blood turned to ice as I listened. She wants me to lose 10 pounds? That’s too little. I’ll give her 80. No, let’s make it a nice, round 100. When I got back to the classroom, my desk was covered in pig stickers. My textbooks were in the trash can, smelling like old banana peels. Brad stood on the podium, pointing at me. “Did you guys hear? The Whale roared on the track field! She said she’s gonna get skinny!” The class roared with laughter. “If Lily gets skinny, I’ll eat dirt!” “If she hits 110, I’ll ask her to Prom!” “Deal,” I whispered to myself. I hope you boys are hungry. 3 I started a TikTok account. Avatar: A generic fitness model. Handle: Project_Perfection. Caption: “210 lbs. Road to Redemption. 80 Days until the Showcase.” In the mirror, my oversized T-shirt hid the rolls, but my thighs were still thick as tree trunks. I downloaded a trending HIIT workout and started moving. Within minutes, I was drenched. My face was tomato red. Viewers started trickling in. “Day 1 is hell, sis. You got this.” “Don’t give up!” Of course, the trolls came too. “Ew.” “Clout chaser.” “With that build? You aren’t making any showcase. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I replied calmly: “Not dancing. Just betting.” I kept going until I collapsed on the carpet, chest heaving. Then, a comment popped up that stopped my heart. “LMAO wait, isn’t this Lily the Whale from our class? 💀” My phone blew up. Brad had found the stream. He screenshotted the most unflattering angle of me sweating and Photoshopped me into the Michelin Man. He spammed it in the class group chat. Brad: “Lily Tire Co. Built tough!” The chat exploded with “😂” reacts. Random Classmate: “@Lily Good luck on that Michelin sponsorship!” I turned off my phone and buried my face in the couch cushions. After I stopped crying, I turned the stream back on. I wasn’t quitting. Strangers were cheering for me. Why were the people I saw every day the monsters? I made a plan. Calorie deficit. Cardio. No mercy. 4:00 AM. Pitch black outside. I ran from my house to the school. I looked at the calendar on my wall before I left. Showcase: 80 Days. 4 The morning air was crisp. The world was kinder when the sun wasn’t up. The sanitation workers waved at me. The guy at the bagel shop knew me as the “early runner” and stopped trying to sell me cream cheese. I stared at the golden bagels, swallowed my saliva, bought a boiled egg, and washed it down with water. Between classes, while everyone gossiped, I was in the stairwell doing squats. My legs shook. My shirt was soaked. Chloe and her clique would “accidentally” walk by. “Wow, look at her go.” “Still gross though.” Lunchtime. Boiled chicken breast. Broccoli. No dressing. The cafeteria smelled like pizza and fries. It was torture. Boys walked past my table with trays piled high with burgers. “Hey Lily, does that cardboard taste good?” “I bet you twenty bucks she binges tonight.” “Life’s short, eat a burger, cow.” Chloe would swoop in then, playing the saint. She’d scold them gently, acting like my protector. “Guys, stop it. Lily, don’t listen to them. Skinny is beautiful.” She’d cling to my arm, terrified I’d give up and eat. I acted moved by her “kindness.” “You’re right, Chloe. I’m going to lose another ten pounds just for you.” I chugged water and threw the rest of my chicken away. Back in class, the girl in front of me was eating fried chicken. The smell of grease and spices filled my nose. I buried my head in my arms. My brain was offline. Only my nose was working. Showcase: 70 Days. 5 “20 days, 10 pounds down. That’s 0.5 lbs a day…” I was doing the math on my notepad. The paper looked like a slice of white bread to my starving eyes. At this rate, I wouldn’t hit my goal. Current Weight: 190 lbs. Goal: 110 lbs. Days left: 60. I needed to lose over a pound a day. Mr. Henderson, our homeroom teacher, slammed a ruler on my desk. “Doing math about your weight again? Look, Lily, I admit you lost a little.” The class turned to look. Some whispered that I actually looked different. “But,” Henderson sneered, “It’s just water weight. It’s genetics, Lily. You can’t fight nature. Some people are born to eat, some are born to shine.” He gestured to the front row, where Chloe sat. “Speaking of shining… I have an announcement. The lead for the school’s promo video has been selected.” “It’s Chloe!” Applause erupted. “Obvious choice.” “She’s perfect.” I looked up. Chloe basked in the adoration. She looked radiant. My 10 lb loss meant she had dropped 5 lbs. She was now 95 lbs. Perfect for the camera. “She looks even better today,” someone whispered. I leaned back to hear more. The girls behind me leaned away, wiping their desks like I was contagious. “Ugh, sweaty.”

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The first thing I did after I was reborn was secretly move my parents’ graves. Then, I replaced their ashes with the remains of a stray dog. Not only that, but I also poured manure all over the grave site. I did this because in my past life, my ex-boyfriend’s childhood best friend said she wanted to join him in paying respects to my parents. But ever since that day, my luck had been cursed. Meanwhile, his best friend’s life soared—she snagged a job offer from a top tech company and even won a multi-million dollar lottery. Before long, I fell ill and died. As a ghost, I hovered around my boyfriend and heard his best friend giggling to him: “Thanks to your dead girlfriend, I managed to switch fates with her! She had no idea how good her destiny was. Now that I’ve taken her luck, everything she had is mine!” Hearing their conversation, I was consumed by a desire to kill them both. Then, I opened my eyes and found myself back on the very day that she suggested visiting my parents’ grave. 1 “Chloe, so these are your mom and dad’s headstones?” Lilly was looking at me, her eyes full of curiosity. I nodded: “Yeah, they are. My parents are resting right here.” A gleam sparked in Lilly’s eyes when she heard that. She bowed to my parents’ headstones. “Chloe, should I burn some prayer money for them too?” “I want to show my deepest respects!” Lilly asked with a sweet smile. In my last life, I was touched by her gesture. But in this life, I knew exactly what her “burning” was about—it was about stealing my luck and fortune. This time, I coldly refused: “Thanks, Lilly, but I’ll do it myself. It’s more meaningful if I do it for my own parents.” Lilly immediately turned to my boyfriend, a look of hurt painted on her face. “Jason, I was just trying to be thoughtful! I didn’t mean anything bad by it!” “Chloe, Lilly is being nice. Why would you refuse her?” Jason looked at me, instantly siding with her. I scoffed internally as I watched the pair. “Fine, if you want to burn something, go ahead.” I said flatly. As soon as I finished, Lilly shot a knowing look at Jason. Jason looked at me and suggested: “Chloe, let’s go buy a bouquet of fresh flowers for your parents’ graves.” Last time, Jason used this exact excuse to get me away from the site. When we came back, Lilly was done with her ritual. I even asked her what she had burned. She seemed flustered, but I didn’t think much of it. Not until after I died did I realize Lilly had literally stolen the good fortune emanating from my parents’ resting place. This time, I wasn’t going to stop her. After all, the remains buried there weren’t my parents’. I had already relocated their actual graves back to my hometown. My parents’ blessings would only follow me. As I walked away with Jason, I glanced back and saw Lilly pulling out a stack of yellow paper from her bag. On it, she had written her date of birth and name in what looked like her own blood. I just smiled, pretending I hadn’t seen anything, and kept walking with Jason. When Jason and I returned with the flowers, Lilly was finished. She even took the bouquet from my hands, smiling as she said, “Chloe, I even asked your mom and dad to look out for you!” I offered a slight, non-committal smile and didn’t say anything more. Right then, I looked at the smug, victorious expression on Lilly’s face and just chuckled softly to myself. 2 After parting ways with Jason and Lilly, I immediately went to the hospital for a thorough physical examination. The doctor assured me that I was perfectly healthy. I breathed a sigh of relief. Last life, I died mysteriously from an illness. That outcome would certainly not be repeated this time. When I got home, I received a phone call. It was from the company I had been desperately wanting to join—a highly secretive, high-level defense firm. They told me my interview was successful and asked me to start immediately. I was stunned when I got the call. In my past life, I never received this call. Instead, Lilly was the one who got a call from a big tech company on her way back from the cemetery. But this time, clearly, I was the one hired. Since the company was located in a different state, I quickly packed up everything and prepared to leave. But just as I finished packing, Jason showed up. “Chloe, Lilly didn’t get the job offer.” Jason said, “She’s pretty upset, so I’m going over to comfort her.” I listened to Jason and just smiled faintly: “That’s good. You should go.” Jason looked me over carefully and asked, “Chloe, were your parents’ graves always there?” I nodded instantly: “Of course!” I knew Jason was suspicious. After all, Lilly and Jason had gotten a fortune teller to read my Bazi (birth chart), and the fortune teller had said I had strong parental protection and would succeed at whatever I did. That’s why they targeted me. “Jason, would I forget where my own parents are buried?” I asked, pretending to be wounded. Hearing that, Jason laughed: “You’re right, of course.” “Well, I’m going to go be with Lilly now.” Jason said, looking at me. I feigned concern for Lilly and told Jason to be sure to comfort her. “Chloe, you usually hate it when I spend time with Lilly. Why are you rushing me off today?” Jason asked curiously before he left. I chuckled: “I still don’t like it, but Lilly is sad, so go cheer her up.” “Jason, I trust you completely.” I smiled, looking at him. Jason nodded, seemingly satisfied, and then left. The second Jason was gone, I quickly finalized everything and called my landlord. I told them I was moving out immediately, not even bothering to collect my security deposit. After all that, I bought the next flight out and rushed to the airport. Only once I was at the gate did I finally relax. I knew that now, I was truly safe. I couldn’t imagine what other schemes Lilly and Jason would come up with if I stayed. There was no way I’d let them succeed this time. As for Lilly, her bad luck was just starting. After all, only I knew she had claimed a wild dog as her parent. Plus, with the manure I poured on the site, I had already drained any remaining luck there might have been. Lilly would only be met with bad fortune; she wouldn’t have a happy ending. As for Jason, being with Lilly would only drag him down. So, naturally, I had to keep my distance from both of them. 3 In the departure lounge, I opened my phone and scrolled through Lilly and Jason’s posts. They were apparently on a trip together. The pictures showed them looking cozy and intimate. I zoned out for a moment. My relationship with Jason started a year ago. A classmate dragged me to a fortune teller, and Lilly and Jason happened to be there too. They overheard my Bazi. Soon after, Jason started aggressively pursuing me. At first, I didn’t understand. Now I realize Jason was after my birth chart. He approached me for Lilly’s sake. Looking at the couple now, I smiled and closed my phone. When the plane landed, I was picked up right away. They had everything arranged for me. Since it was a classified unit, security was top-notch. I saw patrols everywhere when I checked in. This reassured me immensely. After completing the onboarding process, my boss told me I could start next week and use the next few days to settle in. Only then did I truly relax and crash onto the bed. A full day of running around had left me exhausted. I fell asleep instantly. In a daze, I heard my phone ring. It was Jason. His voice on the phone was urgent: “Chloe, you need to come to the hospital right now!” “What?” I paused, then realized it was Jason. “Jason, is something wrong?” I asked, feigning concern. “Chloe, Lilly and I were in a car accident. We’re both in the hospital. You have to come here!” Jason’s voice was frantic. “Jason, I’m sorry, I can’t make it.” I replied. “I found a job and I’ve already moved away.” The second I said that, Jason roared into the phone: “Chloe, what are you talking about?” “You hadn’t found a job! And I saw you just yesterday!” “I know you’re upset because Lilly and I went on a trip! Chloe, stop being dramatic and get over here!” Jason yelled, furious. I replied calmly: “Jason, I really did find a job.” “And I realized you probably care more about Lilly.” “So, Jason, we should break up.” I hung up immediately, not giving Jason a chance to react. My relationship with Jason was over. After all, they were the ones headed for disaster now. My luck was back. After hanging up, I tried to go back to sleep, but Jason called again. I frowned at his number and switched my phone off completely. Now, I could finally get some rest. 4 Over the next two weeks, I gradually took on more and more work. My boss was extremely pleased, even telling me that if I finished my current project, I would be put in charge of my own. Naturally, I was highly motivated. Meanwhile, Jason and Lilly kept calling me relentlessly. I didn’t bother answering and eventually blocked their numbers. I thought blocking them would be the end of it, but Jason and Lilly were like barnacles, constantly calling from different numbers. Every time Jason called, I just hung up. My friend told me that Lilly had been having a miserable time. The car accident had completely messed up her face. She was still in the hospital and needed reconstructive surgery. Jason had broken a rib, too. On top of that, Lilly had apparently dragged Jason into a high-stakes gambling session shortly before the accident. They lost everything. They were now deep in debt. My friend was relieved when they heard I had broken up with Jason. “Chloe, you don’t know. They lost the money gambling, and then crashed the car while fighting about it!” “And now they’re trying to borrow money from everyone!” “Chloe, if Jason begs you, don’t you dare give in. He was constantly with Lilly even when you two were together. You could barely tell who his real girlfriend was!” I laughed when I heard my friend’s warning: “I got it.” Then I hung up. I hadn’t expected Lilly’s bad luck to kick in so quickly. Last life, after she left the grave, she and Jason left to celebrate her getting the job offer. It turns out they were going to a gambling den together. Lilly assumed her luck would be amazing, so she was reckless. She had no idea I had already rewritten her fate this time. Hearing the news about them made me happy. They were certainly in for a lot more trouble. The next morning, I woke up to Jason’s call again. This time, his voice was more desperate than ever. “Chloe, please come back! I really need you!” “Jason, did you forget? I already broke up with you.” I spoke calmly into the phone, ignoring his desperation. Jason’s voice became more frantic: “Chloe, I never agreed to that!” “How can you break up with me right after I got hurt? That’s not right! You have to take responsibility for me!” I scoffed at his words: “Jason, you and Lilly got into an accident together. Why should I be responsible?” “Besides, aren’t you and Lilly doing great together?” I said coldly: “Also, Jason, we are over.” “So, please stop calling me in the future!” I was about to hang up, but then I heard Lilly’s cold voice suddenly cut in from the other end. “Chloe, that wasn’t your parents’ grave, was it? What exactly did you do?”

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On our anniversary, I decided to give our marriage one last chance. The waiter had checked on my table again and again. The restaurant was about to close when Claire finally remembered to text me: [Emergency meeting at the office. Don’t wait up, get dinner without me.] A moment later, I saw a new post from her male assistant, Leo, on my Instagram feed. In the photo, Claire had her jacket off, a smear of cream on her cheek, sharing a single slice of cake with him. The caption read: [Here’s to many more.] Suddenly, the whole thing felt pointless. I liked the post, paid the bill, and headed home. My phone buzzed relentlessly on the walk, but I ignored it. Carrying the takeout box, I strolled leisurely down the familiar streets. Finally, she left a voicemail. “Ethan, I’ll explain when I get home. Don’t overthink this. We’ll have plenty more anniversaries to celebrate.” I didn’t reply. I just quietly opened my briefcase. Plenty more? I thought today might be the day I could convince myself not to leave. It seems I don’t have to anymore. It’s time for a divorce. 1 Claire didn’t come home until the next day. When she walked in, I was directing movers as they carried furniture out of the house. She looked startled. “You finally agreed to move?” I didn’t even look up. “Careful with that corner,” I told the movers, then answered her offhandedly, “Yeah. I got tired of this place.” Eight years together, five years married. I should have gotten tired of it long ago. Claire stared in disbelief. It made sense; just last week, when she suggested moving to the upscale Riverside Estates villas closer to her office, I was the one who insisted this house held eight years of our memories, refusing to even consider it. But now, here I was, packing everything up myself. She was quiet for a moment, then murmured to herself, “Well, moving today works. The new place is already decorated to your taste anyway.” She didn’t ask where I was moving. She just assumed it was to Riverside Estates—the place she wanted. It wasn’t just closer to her office, after all. It was closer to Leo. So I didn’t bother telling her it wasn’t our house that was moving. It was me. As the last large piece of furniture was carried out, Claire looked around the newly spacious, strangely empty rooms, a rare look of unease on her face. After a moment of silence, she pulled a brand-new photo frame from her purse and handed it to me. “A new home for a new beginning. You can put a picture of us in this.” I turned, my eyes landing on the frame. It was a simple, pinewood frame, with four words engraved at the bottom: Moonlit Pines. Ah. The restaurant where she’d celebrated Leo’s birthday last night. It seemed she’d spent quite a bit for them to have gifted her some custom merchandise. I forced a smile and set it on the coffee table. “Thanks.” She froze. “That’s it? That’s your only reaction? You don’t have anything else to say?” I paused, then a memory of Leo’s photo surfaced in my mind—of Claire’s perfectly flat stomach. My voice came out raspy, barely a whisper. “You should tell him not to take you for sushi anymore. It’s not good for you, especially after the miscarriage.” The doctor had been clear: no raw or cold foods after losing the baby. If Claire was going to be with Leo, she should at least remind him to be more careful. Not like me. I didn’t say that last part out loud, but something must have clicked for Claire. Her face instantly darkened, and her voice turned to ice. “Ethan, can you stop being so dramatic?” I’d lost count of how many times she’d said that to me since she lost the baby at the beginning of the year. All I remember is that it was a baby that had already started to kick. A baby we lost because Claire insisted on drinking the chicken soup Leo had brought for her. Just the day before, I had felt it move. In the blink of an eye, it was all just blood and pain. And the cruelest joke? She blamed me. “Ethan, would it have killed you to just stop me?” I wanted to die, too. I wanted to die when I remembered how I had tried to stop her, over and over, only to be accused of jealousy and given the silent treatment, called a madman. I wanted to die when, after she lost the baby, everyone pointed their fingers not at Leo, but at me, their accusations pushing me into a deep, dark depression. I wanted to die when, after the baby was gone, I was busy taking care of her in the hospital, only to walk in on her comforting Leo, telling him, “It’s okay, I didn’t want to have it anyway.” I’d wanted to die so many times. The scars on my arms, the pills in my drawer, the wilting orchid on the windowsill—they were all witnesses to my despair. For the last 264 days, I’ve hovered between life and death. But I made it out. Yesterday, our anniversary, was meant to be one final farewell to the man I used to be. Claire, however, made the choice for me. I shrugged and pulled out the divorce papers I’d had drawn up weeks ago, holding them out to her. “Sign it.” Claire frowned, looking at me with suspicion. “What is this?” I never got the chance to answer. Before Claire could sign, her phone rang. It was Leo. “Claire, I think I twisted my ankle! Can you come take me to the hospital…?” His voice was strong and clear over the phone, not sounding like he was in any pain at all. But Claire was already in a panic. “I’ll be right back to talk about this,” she tossed over her shoulder as she rushed out the door. Watching her leave, I was suddenly reminded of the time I was the one who got hurt. She wasn’t home. I’d woken up in the middle of the night, thirsty, and on my way downstairs for a glass of water, I slipped and fell. I lay there on the cold floor, pain shooting through my leg, and called her. The line connected, but the background was a cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses. She was at a dinner party. “Claire, I fell down the stairs. I can’t move. Can you… can you come home and take me to the hospital?” “Hey, man, Claire’s had a bit too much to drink. She just passed out next to me. Maybe call back later?” It was Leo’s voice, smugness laced with mockery. I froze. “Could you… please… wake her up for me?” I heard my own voice, stuttering and broken. How pathetic. Asking another man to wake up my wife. I don’t know if he ever did. All I know is that my neighbor was the one who eventually found me and took me to the emergency room. When Claire finally showed up, she sat by my hospital bed, holding my hand, her nose red from crying. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gone drinking with clients to close that deal. And I shouldn’t have let Leo help me back to the room just because I was too drunk to stand.” “But Ethan, you have to believe me,” she pleaded. “There’s nothing between us. We’re just colleagues.” “You’re the only one I love.” She looked at me with an earnestness that could move anyone. It was the same look she’d had when we were eighteen, when she found me bullied and beaten in a filthy bathroom stall. She had draped her coat over my shoulders and pulled me to my feet, her voice fierce. “Ethan, being bullied is not your fault.” “I’ll protect you from now on.” She broke her promise. Then, and now. Staring at the empty room, I let out a long breath and tucked the papers back into my briefcase. So annoying. I’d have to see her one more time. But that was fine. One more time was all it would take. As long as I never had to see her again after the divorce. That evening, I shipped off the last of my boxes and went out to say goodbye to my friends. They knew I was leaving the city and had thrown a farewell party for me. On the way to the party, I noticed something unusual. Crowds were gathered along the Harbor River, and event staff were weaving through the onlookers. BOOM! A cascade of fireworks erupted into the night sky, exploding in bursts of color so beautiful it was breathtaking. I pulled over, tilting my head back to admire the rare spectacle. Suddenly, I heard someone in the crowd say: “Wow, so beautiful. The heiress of the Sterling Group really goes all out to show her love.” “Yeah, her husband is one lucky guy, landing a woman like her.” The smile froze on my face. It slowly dawned on me that this grand display, this fireworks show, was from Claire. For Leo. A dull ache spread through my chest, but thankfully, the soul-crushing pain was gone. I shook my head and drove away from the river. My friends were waiting. I couldn’t be late. We went all out that night. Dinner, drinks, karaoke—the works. At one point, my best friend, Dylan, raised a glass to me, his eyes red. “Ethan, are you going to be okay? Will you be happy?” I smiled, clinked my glass against his, and downed it in one go. “Of course. From now on, every single day.” I was finally free. That night, neither Claire nor I went home. We ran into each other at the entrance to our building the next morning. She was still wearing yesterday’s clothes; my jacket reeked of alcohol. “You didn’t come home last night?” she asked, her eyes scanning me from head to toe, as if searching for something. I nodded. “Nope. I was out with Dylan and the guys.” At the mention of Dylan, the tension in her face visibly eased. “Just this once,” she said, her tone softening as she reached for my hand. “Don’t stay out all night again. I worry.” “It’s getting colder. Make sure you dress warm, you don’t want to catch a cold.” I shot her a strange look, pulled my hand away, and walked inside. Was she drunk? Spouting this nonsense so early in the morning just to piss me off. Claire followed me into the apartment. The moment we were inside, she seemed ready to lash out at me for pulling my hand away, but her eyes were involuntarily drawn to the changes around the room. The wedding portrait was gone from the wall. It had hung there for so long that it left a clean, white rectangle on the painted surface. The model kits she’d bought me for my birthday, which I had always treasured and displayed in the center of the bookshelf, had been moved. She pushed open the bedroom door. My clothes, my shoes, my laptop—all gone. A flicker of anxiety crossed her face. She turned to ask me something, but was met with the sight of me holding out a pen and a document. “Yesterday’s paperwork.” I tried to sound casual, but my eyes were fixed on her every move. “You were too busy worrying about Leo to sign it yesterday. Can you do it now?” The woman, who had been about to read the document, paused. A rare flash of guilt and remorse crossed her eyes, and she flipped straight to the last page. “Did you happen to pass by the river last night?” she asked, as if it were a casual thought. I hesitated for a second before shaking my head. “No, why?” I knew exactly why, but my denial seemed to bring her a wave of relief. Her voice became cheerful. “Oh, nothing. I just heard there was a fireworks show. I remember you love fireworks, so I was wondering if you saw it.” “I didn’t.” She picked up the pen to sign. “That’s such a shame. I was thinking of you, since you love them so much. I was planning to put on a show just for you.” I watched her hand, my breath so quiet it was almost silent. “I don’t like fireworks anymore.” “Then how about I take you to see the Northern Lights? You mentioned it once, on your birthday.” “Or maybe Japan? The view of Mount Fuji is supposed to be incredible. I still haven’t gotten you a gift for our fifth anniversary.” She signed the last letter of her name and looked up at me with a smile. Her eyes were so gentle, it was like we were eighteen again. I took the document from her, scanned it carefully, and a genuine smile spread across my face. “You’ve already given me the best gift I could ask for.” My smile seemed to catch her off guard. “I did? What did I give you?” she asked, thinking hard. “A car? A watch? Or is just having me here the best gift of all?” I shook my head at each suggestion. “None of those.” She raised an eyebrow. “Then what could it be?” I smiled and held up the document in my hand. “The divorce papers you just signed.” “Claire, I’m finally free of you.” Her smile froze on her face.

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After my divorce from Liam, I announced my retirement from the entertainment industry. The internet cheered, congratulating him on escaping his “misery.” Finally, he was free from the “bloodsucker” ex-wife. #LiamFree trended at number one. I gave a bitter smile and deleted all my social media accounts. I completely vanished from the public eye. Later, my diary accidentally appeared on a variety show. Only then did everyone realize. The only mistake I made in my life was loving Liam. 1. Four years after divorcing Liam, his fame was bigger than ever. As his ex-wife, I seemed to have been forgotten by the public long ago. On a talk show, responding to requests from netizens, the host brought up Liam’s new relationship. On camera, Liam looked gentle, a smile playing on his lips. He radiated happiness. The live chat was flooded with “OTP” and “perfect match.” Then, the host shifted gears. “Everyone knows Liam once had a failed marriage. I’m curious…” “Do you have anything to say to your ex-wife, Chloe?” At the mention of my name. Liam’s smile froze. After a few seconds of silence. He spoke calmly. “I’m grateful my ex-wife stopped harassing me, allowing me to find true love.” The chat exploded. “Does the host know how to do her job? Why bring up that jinx?” “Is Chloe trying to make a comeback? Such a clout chaser.” “The internet never forgets. I won’t let anyone forget that toxic woman.” In their narrative. I was the “cancer” of the entertainment industry. The host glanced at the comments and suddenly smiled. “A while ago, an anonymous netizen sent us Chloe’s old diary.” “Liam, do you mind if I read it?” Liam sneered, “Anonymous? She probably sent it herself because she’s broke and wants to whitewash her image to get back into showbiz.” His eyes were full of contempt. But he had no reason to refuse. The host slowly opened the diary— 2. August 12, 2018 Dear Diary, Tomorrow, I’m officially going to be Mrs. King. I’m rolling around in bed. Too excited to sleep. Since I can’t sleep, I’ve decided to do something meaningful. I’m going to write down the story of me and Liam. If I don’t record it while we’re young, how will I tell our kids about the good old days when we’re old? Dear Diary. Do you believe in love at first sight? Liam said the first time he saw me, he almost forgot to breathe. In that moment, the whole world stopped. He could only hear his own heartbeat. He mustered up the courage to ask for my number. His ears were as red as a tomato. Hmm. That description ruins the vibe. They were like the most vibrant sunset. To pursue me. He did a lot of silly things. He listened to his roommate’s advice and bought a book called “High EQ Responses.” You wouldn’t believe how funny it was. I told him I had a pimple. He quoted the book: “Wow, you’re bubbling over with beauty.” I laughed and told him he was amazing. He quoted the book again: “If I wasn’t amazing, how could I be friends with you?” There’s so much more. When we have kids. I’m definitely going to tell them about the embarrassing things their dad did. Liam’s arrival added so much color to my life. Most importantly. I was chosen. I remember my junior year. My scholarship grant was stolen by the class president. Helpless, I hid in the stairwell and cried. When Liam found out, he dragged me straight to the administration office. He shielded me behind him. He single-handedly debated the class president and the counselor. He left them speechless. He listed over ten pieces of evidence proving the class president didn’t need the money. He fought for me. And got me the grant. So this is what it feels like to have someone in your corner. My parents divorced when I was four. My dad hated that I was a girl. My mom blamed the failure of her marriage on me being a daughter. Thankfully, my grandma was willing to take care of me. I knew how hard it was for Grandma, so I never wanted to cause trouble for her. Even when I was treated unfairly, I tried to swallow it. Because of my family situation, I was often bullied by other students. I endured it for so many years. Suddenly one day. Someone told me he would protect me. Who wouldn’t fall for that? Liam remembered everything I liked. He knew I loved tomato hot pot but hated tomato-flavored snacks. He knew I liked my milk tea with 50% sugar but my fruit tea with only 30%. He knew I was allergic to eggs, so my breakfast crepes couldn’t have eggs. Even my grandma said, “Little Liam, with him by your side, I can rest easy.” With him, I didn’t need to compromise. I just needed to be myself. Dear Diary, you won’t believe it. As soon as Liam was legally old enough, he dragged me to get our marriage license. Right after we got it. He tore it up right in front of me. With a smug, mischievous grin, he said, “Chloe, without the license, we can’t get divorced.” “I’m stuck with you for life.” That childish fool. But I loved that childish fool to death. Attached is a love letter. Liam wrote it the day he confessed. When we’re old, I’ll make him read it to me again. After reading this page. The chat slowed down. No one expected this. That Liam and I had such memories. In everyone’s mind. Our relationship was always me clinging desperately to him. No one knew. We truly loved each other once. The host turned to look at Liam: “Liam, reading the diary, it seems you two were truly in love.” Liam stared unblinkingly at the diary. Countless complex emotions flashed through his eyes. After a long while. He said, “That was years ago. What’s the point of talking about it now?” Yeah, years ago. Back then, our love burned brighter than fire. 3. June 17, 2019 Dear Diary. Long time no see. It’s been super busy lately. Things are looking up for me too. One small role after another. Of course. My Liam is even more amazing. He recently landed the lead role in a small web series. The company forbids us from exposing our relationship. But I still snuck onto Liam’s set to see him. I wore sunglasses and pretended to be a fan. Unexpectedly, a crew member muttered, “Even this nobody has fans?” I was so mad I memorized his face. Wait until my Liam gets famous. I’ll slap him in the face with success. Liam saw me. The moment the director yelled “Cut,” he winked at me. That childish fool. Attached photo: Liam on set today. Standing in the snow, wearing blue and white robes, a black sash around his waist. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. But filming this show is hard on Liam. The budget is tight, so they can’t afford stunt doubles. He has to do all the fight scenes himself. He’s often covered in bruises. Before he can even apply ointment. He has to film rain scenes. It breaks my heart. I need to make sure he eats well lately. Liam is working so hard for our future. I can’t drag him down. Tomorrow I’m auditioning for the third female lead in the web series “Dreamlike.” Life is really looking hopeful. After this page was read, the chat went wild. “Sob, Liam’s path to fame was really not easy.” “My poor Liam.” “Wait, Chloe auditioned for ‘Dreamlike’? Thank god she didn’t get it, or she would have ruined the character.” The host saw the confusion in the chat. She asked Liam, “Liam, did you know Chloe auditioned back then?” He squinted in thought. A moment later, he nodded. “I remember she not only auditioned but passed.” This statement stunned everyone. Everyone knew. Although “Dreamlike” was a low-budget web series, it was a sleeper hit. Almost everyone in the cast got a career boost. And I wasn’t in it. The host pressed on, “Since she passed, why didn’t she take the role?” “For Chloe back then, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” “What could be worth giving up her future for?” Liam frowned. After a while. He shook his head. He really didn’t remember. Of course he didn’t remember. Because he was the beneficiary. 4. June 18, 2019 Dear Diary. It’s a small world. I went to the audition today. The director paired us up for scenes. The person reading with me was the girl who bullied me in high school. One look, and I felt like all my strength was drained. My legs trembled uncontrollably. Over the years. I’ve imagined countless times. The miserable state she might be in. Maybe broke and destitute. Maybe a failed career. Maybe tasting what it feels like to be bullied. I told myself this kind of person would definitely get karma. But she didn’t. She was still vibrant and beautiful. Wearing an expensive Chanel suit. The arrogance in her eyes was even worse than before. I fled to the bathroom. Splashed cold water on my face. I tried to force myself to calm down. But my brain uncontrollably replayed her hideous laughing face. My scalp started to tingle. Just like the feeling when she used to yank my hair. “Chloe, your grandma picks up empty bottles at the south side stadium, right?” “Do you think if we stole her sack, she’d die of anger?” “Ew, does your bra not fit? Want me to help you rip it off?” … For a long time, she was my nightmare. And the reason she bullied me. Was simply because I refused to help her cheat on a test. Seeing that face again. My instinct was to run. I even wanted to give up the audition. Hiding in a stall, I trembling video-called Liam. Hoping for a shred of comfort. The call connected quickly. I saw Liam’s swollen, red face. It looked painful. But Liam squeezed out a smile, “Chloe, what’s wrong?” My throat choked up. Suddenly I didn’t know where to start. Sensing my gaze. Liam covered his right cheek. Acting relaxed. “It’s nothing. Just took a few extra slaps in the last scene. Doesn’t hurt.” The actor next to him couldn’t help complaining, “That resource hog is the worst. Can’t act to save her life, making you suffer.” “Saying she hasn’t slapped anyone before so she can’t find the feeling.” “Bullshit, what is she pretending for? I see her hitting her assistant every day…” Liam stared at me lovingly, eyes bright. “Don’t listen to his nonsense.” He was always like this. Reporting good news but not the bad. Getting cut by wires but gritting his teeth through it. If I hadn’t. Seen his back while he was showering a few days ago. I wouldn’t have known how hard he went for the action scenes. Realizing I was about to cry. I quickly hung up. In that moment, I suddenly woke up. Liam. He doesn’t back down no matter how hard acting gets. How can I give up an opportunity because of fear? Right? Dear Diary. I can accept failure. But I can’t run away. During the reading, she obviously recognized me. I overcame my instinct. And won the role of the third female lead in “Dreamlike.” When the results were announced, my arm was rammed hard: “Well well, Chloe, you’re moving up in the world.” Meeting those dark eyes that once terrified me. I rammed my arm back. Hmph. Dear Diary. I, Chloe, am not afraid of her anymore. She told me to watch out. Bring it on. After this page, the chat was shocked. “For real? Who? Bullying? Who?” “Holy crap, is the ‘resource hog’ the female lead in Liam’s drama?” “My poor brother, sob.” “Wait, so Liam was right, Chloe really passed the audition?” “Then why didn’t she take the role?”

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My mom is a country woman through and through. When she saved me, I had already turned into a zombie. But Mom didn’t get it. My head was missing a chunk? She thought Grandma just let me sleep on one side too long as a baby. I only ate raw meat? She scolded me for being a picky eater. My face was blue and purple? She accused me of stealing her foundation. Later, Mom became the only person among the survivors who knew acupuncture. When they tried to drive me out, Mom stood in front of me, shielding me with her small body. “I can cure my baby girl! I swear it!” 1 When my mom, Sue, found me, I had been a zombie for three days. She had been working in the city for years and finally came back to our village. That day, the sun was scorching. Mom was carrying a bamboo basket to pick vegetables in the field when she saw me crouched under an old crooked tree, gnawing on a dead crow. A large chunk of my skull was missing from the back of my head. “Penny, why are you sleeping out here?” Mom rushed over in three steps. She grabbed me by the back of my collar. “Look how dirty the ground is. Get up.” I made a guttural noise in my throat and turned to bite her. Mom was quick. She pulled a green onion from her basket and stuffed it into my mouth. “Snacking before dinner again? Let’s go home and eat!” Mom dragged me home. I stumbled along behind her, half the green onion falling out of my mouth. Mrs. Zhang, passing by, screamed and ran away from ten meters out. Mom muttered, “What’s wrong with that woman? Looking at my daughter like she’s seen a ghost.” Back home, Mom pressed me onto a stool and wiped my face with a wet towel. My skin was already turning a bruised purple. The whites of my eyes were a muddy yellow. “You little brat, did you steal my foundation again? You look like a corpse with all that makeup.” Mom scrubbed my face hard, rubbing off a piece of rotten skin. “This cheap makeup is terrible. It’s peeling off.” I opened my mouth to bite her. Mom casually stuffed a piece of cured pork into my mouth. “Stop fussing. Let me comb your hair.” She picked up a wooden comb. She paused when she touched the missing part of my skull. “This head shape… Your grandma really let you sleep flat on your back too much. The back of your head is practically caved in.” She touched the depression. “But hey, city folks like this look now. They call it… high cranial top? A high-fashion face.” At dinner, Mom stir-fried a plate of greens. I didn’t touch it, focused only on gnawing raw meat. Mom slapped the table in anger. “Picky eater! Only eating meat and no veggies, just like your father.” She fished a piece of salted pork out of the jar and threw it to me. “Eat up, eat up. You need to put on some weight.” At night, I tried to sneak out to bite people. Mom chased me back with a broom. “Running out in the middle of the night? What if you get kidnapped?” She found a rope and tied me to the bedpost. “Sleep.” Early the next morning, Uncle Li ran over, banging on the door. “Sue! It’s bad! People in town have turned into man-eating monsters!” Mom was sewing a mask for me because I kept trying to bite her. She stitched three layers of cotton together and stuffed it with dried orange peel. “What nonsense. There are no monsters.” She didn’t even look up. “Did you watch too many horror movies again?” “I’m telling the truth! Hey! Penny, she…” Uncle Li pointed at me. I was snarling at him. Mom slapped the back of my head. “Where are your manners? Say hello to Uncle Li.” I let out a roar. Uncle Li jumped back three steps. Mom kept nagging. “This kid is going through a rebellious phase. Bites everyone she sees. I made her a mask. Do you want one for your boy too?” Uncle Li ran for his life. Mom fed me Chinese medicine every day—ginseng, aconite, whatever she could find. She even gave me moxibustion therapy daily. Amazingly, it actually calmed me down. Seven days into the outbreak, our village was the only one with living people nearby. Mom went to the fields as usual, watering and fertilizing. I wandered around the fields with her, scaring off any zombies that tried to approach. They seemed afraid of me. “Penny, help Mom catch some bugs.” Mom pointed at a green worm on a cabbage. I grabbed it and popped it into my mouth. Crunch. “Oh my god, spit it out!” Mom pried my mouth open. It was already gone. At lunch, Mom packed the stir-fry into a lunchbox and cut a plate of meat for me. “Eat slowly, don’t choke.” She sighed watching me wolf it down. “Look at you, a nice girl eating like a starving ghost.” 2 Until one day. A group of survivors passed through our village. Their leader, Dr. Lin, turned pale when he saw me. “Ma’am, your daughter is a zombie.” Mom scoffed. “Zombie? What’s that?” “Her eyes are yellow!” “It’s jaundice. She just needs some herbal tea.” “She’s drooling!” “Kids do that when they’re teething.” Dr. Lin ran out of patience and tried to tie me up. Mom grabbed a rake and charged. “Who dares touch my daughter!” She chased those grown men off like chickens. The survivors had no choice but to camp at the village entrance. They discovered Mom’s greenhouse was the only source of fresh vegetables for miles. It became even harder to chase them away. They came every day to trade. Mom traded cabbage for salt. Radishes for matches. Chives for a half-empty jar of chili sauce. The chili sauce wasn’t essential, but Mom traded for it anyway because she realized I liked spicy food. It was one of the few tastes I could still register. Dr. Lin tried to reason with her. “Sue, your daughter has really turned. She’s dangerous.” Mom stuffed a piece of ginger candy into my mouth. “Nonsense. Would a zombie eat candy out of my hand? Why hasn’t she bitten me?” “But…” Mom glared. “But nothing. My girl is so good. She can’t be a zombie.” Life went on like this until one day, a young guy from the survivors tried to steal vegetables from our house and I scratched him. More than twenty people surrounded our house with hoes and shovels. “Hand her over! Or we’ll beat you too!” They shouted. Mom shielded me behind her, gripping the kitchen knife she’d used for ten years. “This is my daughter! She doesn’t bite. If you drive her away, I go too!” “She’s a zombie, lady!” “Bullshit.” Mom was shaking with anger. “My girl isn’t some monster like you say! She’s just picky, just rebellious, just… just…” She stammered and turned to look at me. I was squatting on the ground, guarding the vegetables I had just saved, indifferent to the commotion. Everyone fell silent for a moment. Mom pulled a handful of mugwort from her pocket, lit it, and waved the smoke around me. “See? You say monsters are afraid of mugwort? My daughter isn’t!” The thick smoke made me sneeze, but I didn’t move. Dr. Lin pushed up his glasses. “Ma’am, mugwort repels zombies, but that’s just something we discovered by accident. There’s no scientific proof it works on all of them. Maybe your daughter is an exception. Look at her! Is that human? Stop lying to yourself…” “Shut up.” Mom pulled out a few silver needles and stuck them into my head, desperate to prove I wouldn’t bite. “This is my family’s ancestral acupuncture. I can definitely cure her.” Strangely enough, after those needles went in, my cloudy eyes cleared for a second. I opened my mouth and let out a garbled sound: “Mom…” Mom froze, then burst into tears. “Did you hear that? My daughter called me Mom. Do zombies call their moms?” The survivors looked at each other. Finally, they sighed and dispersed in twos and threes. Before leaving, Dr. Lin secretly slipped a notebook to Mom. “Ma’am, your daughter is a miracle.” “If you insist on keeping her, help me record her daily life.” Mom threw the notebook back. “I won’t. Don’t know many words.” He was completely defeated. That night, Mom gave me a bath and changed me into new clothes. “Baby, I don’t care if you’re human or ghost. You’re my flesh and blood.” She said while sewing up the clothes I had torn during the day. I mumbled in response, playing with the rag doll Mom made to comfort me—even though I had already chewed off half its body. The apocalyptic moon was big and round. Mom hummed an off-key tune as she sewed. “Sleep now. Mom will make braised ribs tomorrow.” I tilted my broken head and leaned on Mom’s warm shoulder. In this world overrun by zombies, only my mom thought her daughter was just a little picky, a little rebellious, and a little different. 3 Ever since Mom “cured” me with mugwort and needles, she became even more convinced that the zombie virus was a hoax. “What zombie? It’s just what young people call ‘sub-health’.” She chatted with Mrs. Zhang, who came to trade for cabbage, while rubbing medicinal oil on my forehead. “Look at my Penny. A few needles and she’s fine. She even eats vegetables now.” I was squatting in the corner gnawing on a corn cob—cob and all. Mrs. Zhang’s eyelid twitched. “Sue, her teeth… is that normal?” “Takes after her dad. He used to chew pig trotters like that.” A few months later, more refugees arrived. They walked around me in wide circles. Until someone discovered I could scare away other zombies. One night, three zombies were clawing at Old Xu’s window. His wife came running to our door, crying and screaming. “Sue! Lend us your Penny!” Mom was cutting my nails. “It’s the middle of the night. My girl needs her sleep.” She hid me behind her back. Mrs. Xu was desperate. “Two pounds of cured meat!” “Deal.” Mom put my homemade protective gear on me. “Go help your Auntie Xu, baby.” I roared and charged out. The three zombies turned and fled. Mrs. Xu watched through the crack in the door, dumbfounded. “It’s a miracle…” The next day, the whole village knew I could repel zombies. Dr. Lin, being a man of science, came to see Mom. “Sue, this might be due to pheromones.” Mom didn’t understand his western medicine theories. “What mones?” “No, I mean…” “Two pounds of cured meat per visit.” Mom held up a finger. “Discount for a monthly subscription.” Just like that, I became the village’s alternative security guard. During the day, I was tied by the vegetable patch to scare away sparrows (and secretly eat them). At night, I patrolled for zombies. Once, I accidentally ate Auntie Li’s guard dog. Mom compensated her with twenty eggs and bandaged the dog herself. Back home, she scolded me. “That’s a guard dog! You can’t just eat it!” She stuffed a handful of bitter wormwood into my mouth. “Remember this lesson.” It was so bitter I stuck out my tongue and yelled. Mom stared at me and noticed something. “Baby, your tongue turned red? It was purple a few days ago.” She pried my mouth open to check. Dr. Lin heard about it and ran over that night to collect a saliva sample. Mom didn’t want him touching me but reluctantly agreed for half a pound of sugar. “A miracle. The virus activity is decreasing.” He held the test tube up to the light. “The child just has too much internal heat. Once the heat goes down, she’ll be fine. You city doctors make a fuss about everything.” Mom didn’t believe a word he said. But Dr. Lin’s propaganda worked. He said I still had a bit of brain left. My IQ was now roughly equivalent to a puppy. The villagers weren’t as afraid of me anymore. Children got curious and threw stones at me from afar. Until I broke the rope Mom tied me with and chased them for a mile. After that, they switched to giving me gifts. Silkworm pupae, grasshoppers with missing legs, fat cicadas. Mom accepted them on my behalf and gave back handfuls of fresh vegetables. “Courtesy demands reciprocity. We must be generous.” She taught me. Even though I wasn’t strictly “human” anymore. 4 A man in a suit arrived in the village. He claimed to be an official from the city shelter. He nearly wet his pants when he saw me. “Th-that’s a zombie!” He screamed, hiding behind Dr. Lin. Mom was drying sweet potatoes. She frowned. “Sir, watch your mouth.” She broke a piece of dried potato and stuffed it into my mouth. “She bites!” “Whose kid doesn’t bite? It’s normal to fight.” Mom pointed at the bratty kids chasing each other in the distance. “Look at them. Last month they knocked out Grandma Liu’s dentures.” The official was stumped. He said they needed a meeting to decide my fate. Mom was unhappy. “Just because he wears a suit, he thinks he can give orders? Why should we listen to him?” She combed my hair as she spoke. “Baby, if they chase us out tomorrow, Mom will take you to the back mountain.” The comb scraped against the gap in my skull. She touched it gently. “We have a melon shed there. It’s okay. As long as Mom is here, we have nothing to fear.” The meeting the next day was chaotic. Old Xu led the group supporting me for my service in protecting the village. Auntie Li led the opposition, saying I was a ticking time bomb. She definitely held a grudge about her dog. Mom sat in the corner, silent, weaving a grasshopper cage for me. In the middle of the argument, the village alarm sounded. A massive horde of zombies, attracted by the smell of humans, had arrived. A black mass, at least twenty of them. The official dove under the table immediately. “Hand over the zombie girl! Now!” Mom grabbed me. “Over my dead body!” Suddenly. I broke free from Mom’s grip. Howling, I charged into the horde. Old Xu described the scene later as “a hungry wolf entering a flock of sheep.” Except the sheep were zombies. I tore them apart one by one. Intestines dragged all over the ground. By the time Mom arrived with the villagers, brandishing rakes and sickles… They only saw me sitting on a pile of corpses. Gnawing on half an arm. “Penny!” She roared. My hand shook, and the arm dropped to the ground. “How many times have I told you? Don’t eat that dirty stuff.” Mom grabbed my ear and dragged me back, pretending not to see the pile of limbs at my feet.

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1 My mom is obsessed with those viral web series—the ones where a billionaire CEO pretends to be a broke nobody. When she was heartbroken that the hero couldn’t afford his grandmother’s medical bills, I pointed to the Patek Philippe watch he accidentally flashed on screen. “Mom, look. That watch could pay for grandma to live in a luxury hospital suite for the next twenty years.” When she sobbed through three handkerchiefs because the hero fainted from hunger after saving his breakfast money for tuition, I pointed to the Rolls-Royce Cullinan key in his hand. “Mom, see that? That car could buy him breakfast for the rest of his life.” To avoid being duped myself, I became an unwilling expert on luxury brands, studying every frame of my mom’s favorite shows. But every guy I’d ever met was disappointingly normal, giving me no chance to showcase my skills. Until my new boyfriend gave me a two-dollar ring, right after buying his childhood friend a two-million-dollar jewelry set. Until he showed up in a four-thousand-dollar t-shirt to borrow twenty thousand from me for his mother’s surgery. I immediately pulled out a flyer for a shady, back-alley clinic. “Babe, if we need money, we’ll earn it. One kidney goes for twenty grand. See? Your mom’s medical bills are covered.” I smiled sweetly. “I won’t even take the five-thousand-dollar finder’s fee. We can use it to buy supplements for your mom.” … Before my boyfriend, Brett, could even process what was happening, I dragged him to the nearest black-market clinic and signed the consent form for him. It all happened in a blur. By the time he snapped out of it, we were sitting outside the operating room. Brett’s face was ashen, and cold sweat soaked the collar of his deceptively simple, outrageously expensive cotton t-shirt. “Babe, I think we need to talk about this,” he stammered, his hand trembling as he clutched the organ donation agreement. I pretended not to hear him, leaning in closer. “What’s there to discuss? Your mom needs the money urgently, right? I already asked; the chances of finding a match for your kidney are high. Twenty thousand dollars, cash, deposited into your account the same day.” “Are you scared of the pain?” I patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, the nurse said it’s general anesthesia. You’ll just take a nap and it’ll be over. Look how professional this place is. They even have commendation banners on the wall.” I pointed to a banner that had clearly been photoshopped. Brett’s gaze followed my finger, and his mouth twitched. He lowered his voice, his tone urgent. “What I mean is, I can’t let you make such a huge sacrifice for me!” I blinked, my face a mask of innocence. “Sacrifice? Babe, you’re the one selling the kidney, not me. I just made a few calls.” His mind raced, desperately searching for an out. Finally, a new excuse burst forth. “The money! I got the money!” he shouted. “Just now! A buddy of mine, he heard my mom was sick and wired me twenty thousand, no questions asked! Look!” He fumbled for his phone, swiping frantically before shoving a chat history in my face. I smirked inwardly but kept my expression neutral, looping my arm through his and pulling him toward the exit. “However,” I said, stopping in my tracks and tilting my head up to look at him. His heart leaped back into his throat. “However what?” he asked, his voice tense. I counted on my fingers, my expression serious. “Okay, babe, let’s do the math. Your friend lent you twenty thousand for your mom’s surgery, right?” He nodded hesitantly. “But,” I continued, “when I signed the agreement, I promised the doctor that if we backed out, we’d have to pay a five-thousand-dollar penalty for their time and sterilization costs. How are we going to handle that?” His face fell again. Five thousand dollars was less than a dinner bill for him, but for his down-and-out persona, it was a fortune. He stammered, unable to form a single word. I sighed dramatically, pulling a crumpled fifty-dollar bill from my pocket and pressing it into his hand. “Don’t worry, babe. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. This is the last of my cash, but you take it. We’ll figure out the rest together.” He stared at the bill, his expression even more horrified than it had been outside the OR. “What are you doing?” “We’re a couple. Your problems are my problems,” I said, gazing at him with unwavering devotion. “I may not have money, but I have connections. I know a foreman at a construction site. They’re short on guys to haul cement. It’s three hundred a day, and they throw in lunch. We can pay off the debt in five months!” I grabbed his arm, giving him no choice but to follow me out of the hospital. “Come on, let’s go now. The sooner we start, the sooner we’re out of debt. Let’s do this, babe! For our future!” Brett’s body was rigid. He let me drag him a few steps before he violently shook my hand off. “That’s enough!” he growled. “I’ll figure out the five thousand! Just wait for my call.” With that, he bolted from the hospital without a backward glance. I stood there, watching him flee, a triumphant smile spreading across my face. I bought a cheap popsicle from the hospital’s convenience store and waited. Sure enough, less than half an hour later, he called. His voice was still a little shaky, but it had a newfound confidence. “I transferred the money.” I opened my banking app. Five thousand dollars, sitting neatly in my transaction history. I feigned utter astonishment, my voice jumping an octave. “Babe, you’re amazing! How did you solve it so fast?” There was a pause on the other end as he formulated his lie. “I sold the gold pendant I always wear. Money can be earned back, but I can’t let you suffer with me.” “Anyway, don’t worry about it. It’s over.” Listen to him. So moving. My tone became incredibly firm. “Brett Astor, that five thousand dollars is a testament to our love, and it’s our shared debt. I can’t stand by while you carry this burden alone. Starting today, I’m going to work with you to pay it back, until we’ve earned back the money for that… watch!” I didn’t give him a chance to object. “I’ve already found a job. I’ll call you after my shift!” Click. I hung up. At seven that evening, I took a cab to the city’s most exclusive karaoke lounge. The receptionist handed me a temporary staff badge, which I carefully pinned to my chest, ready to begin my shift as a janitor. I found the private room, and as I approached the door, I heard Brett’s voice from inside. He was surrounded by a crowd of rich heirs and scantily clad girls. “So, Astor, what’s with you lately?” one of them slurred, draping an arm around Brett’s shoulders. “Heard you’re slumming it with some girl from the sticks?” Brett sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “I was bored. Just looking for some entertainment. You should have seen her face when she thought I had to sell a kidney for twenty grand. Hilarious.” “You haven’t actually fallen for her, have you? I mean, she’s not bad to look at, got a decent body.” Brett roared with laughter, a harsh, grating sound. “Fallen for her? Me, an Astor, fall for some broke girl who reeks of poverty? Don’t be ridiculous. If you want her, I’ll pass her your way when I’m done.” He paused, adding, “Every young woman is a gold digger. I just want to see how long she can keep up the act.” I stood outside the door, listening to every single word. He was exactly the piece of trash I thought he was. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. The noisy room fell silent. When Brett saw me, his smile froze, and a flash of panic crossed his eyes. “Babe!” I cried, my voice filled with delighted surprise as I looked straight at him. “You work here too?” He shot to his feet, giving his friends a frantic, subtle gesture. “Uh, yeah. I work here too.” Just then, a girl stood up from the sofa. She was more lavishly dressed than anyone else in the room. It was Veronica Vance, the heiress to the Vance Corporation. She sauntered over to me, looking me up and down before letting out a contemptuous laugh. “Cleaning toilets at your age in a place like this? Must be hoping to snag a rich guy, sell yourself to the highest bidder.” Veronica raised an eyebrow and pulled a thick wad of cash from her limited-edition handbag. “Look at you, all poor and pathetic. I bet you’ve never seen this much money in your life.” She fanned the bills out, shaking them as if offering scraps to a dog. “How about this: you get on your knees, lick my shoes clean, and then put on a little show for us. If we’re amused, this ten thousand dollars is all yours.” My eyes lit up. I stared at the cash. “Ten thousand? Would you pay more for a duet?” Before Veronica could answer, I grabbed Brett’s hand. I leaned in close, whispering in his ear, “Babe, we’ve got to do this! For the money!” Then, I pulled him into the middle of the room. In front of everyone, I started dancing to the music. My moves were comically clumsy, a clownish performance with no grace, only absurdity. I kept yanking Brett closer, grinding against him with a gross, greasy laugh. “C’mon, honey, shake it! You know how you move in the bedroom!” “Let’s go, babe! With this money, we can finally pay off our debt!” Brett’s face was thunderous. He had never been so humiliated in his life. Finally, he snapped, violently shoving my hand away with a force that nearly sent me sprawling. He stormed out of the room without looking back. I watched him go, then calmly bent down and scooped up the wad of cash Veronica had thrown on the floor, tucking it into my bag. Only then did I run after him. “Babe, where are you going? We haven’t earned enough yet!” I yelled, catching up to him, panting for effect. Brett stopped, his back to me, his body stiff. “It’s nothing. I just got called into the office for an emergency shift,” he mumbled, then walked away without another glance. I took out the stack of bills from the lounge and happily counted them as I got in a cab and went home. A few days later, I discovered that a video from the karaoke lounge had been leaked online. In it, my terrible dancing was a stark contrast to Brett’s furious expression. The headline was sensational: [NYC HEIR BRETT ASTOR’S WILD DANCE, FORCED TO PERFORM BY GIRLFRIEND!] The comment section exploded with mockery aimed at him. Before I could properly enjoy my victory, my phone buzzed. It was a series of texts from Veronica. “Zoe, you’ve got some nerve, humiliating Brett like that.” “I’m telling you right now, you will never marry into the Astor family!” “You want to be a socialite? Keep dreaming!” The next message was a photo of my father, sitting at his office desk, his face pale. “Your dad works for my family’s company. Well, he’s fired now. And he owes us a million dollars for breach of contract. That’s the price for embarrassing my Brett!” Another message followed, this one a video. My mother was at her small breakfast cart on the street. A group of thugs suddenly swarmed it, smashing everything to pieces. My mother tried to stop them and was shoved to the ground. My heart leaped into my throat. I opened the last image. It was a hospital report. Right arm: fractured. “Only I, Veronica Vance, am worthy of Brett!” Veronica’s texts oozed arrogance. “And you? You’re just some trash from the gutter! A parasite like you deserves to struggle in the dirt for the rest of your life!” My fingers turned white as I gripped the phone. I forwarded all the evidence to a specific number. Then, I hailed a cab to go see Brett. I was seething with rage, but the moment I saw him, my eyes welled up with tears. “Babe, our love is being tested! My family is in trouble, we need a lot of money. You have to quit your job so we can work more and earn it back faster!” I grabbed him and pulled him out the door. My grip was surprisingly strong. Maybe it was his guilt, or maybe his twisted game wasn’t over yet. He didn’t resist, letting me lead him to the construction site I had mentioned before. Brett’s face paled as he looked at the clouds of dust, but he forced himself to sound calm. “I’ll work with you. We’ll pay it all back.” I put him to work, laying bricks, hauling cement. Brett’s pampered face was soon streaked with sweat and grime. He had never experienced hardship like this. In just two days, he lost weight, his eyes were sunken, and his lips were cracked. Finally, on the fourth day, I received a notification: a one-million-dollar deposit into my bank account. And Brett finally broke. He collapsed onto a dusty cement bag, staring at the mountain of bricks before us. His hands trembled as he clutched at my sleeve. His voice was thick with tears. “Babe, let’s stop! Please!” I wiped the smile from my face. “We can’t. We haven’t paid off the debt. Are you tired, babe? Don’t worry, I found us a new job.” Brett’s eyes lit up. “It’s not manual labor, is it?” “Of course not!” I grinned. “We’re going to sell our blood. Then, after that, we can be human test subjects for new drugs. I have a list of dozens of clinical trials looking for volunteers. Once we finish those, all our debts will be paid!” At my words, the color drained from his face. Just as I was about to drag him to the clinic, he threw my hand off. “That’s enough! I’m Brett Astor, the sole heir to the Astor Corporation! I have money, I’ll give you whatever you want!” “Zoe, I can’t take it anymore. I’ll confess!”

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