Category: English

When I was a kid, playing deep in the old woods behind our house, I heard a scream. It didn’t sound like an animal. It sounded like a soul being torn apart. My dad grabbed me, dragging me toward the tree line. “Don’t look back! Just run!” “It’s coming out!” I asked him what was coming out. He shook his head, his face pale. “No one knows its name. Everyone who sees it dies.” Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. I looked up and saw a pair of massive, pale hands covered in white fur resting on my dad’s shoulders. My dad screamed one last thing: “Run!” Then those hands dragged him backward into the darkness of the treeline. Twenty years later, I built a hunting team to go back into those woods. 1 “Everyone who sees it dies.” That voice, intimate yet terrifying, echoed in my ears. I spun around in the pitch-black space, trying to find the source. But there was nothing but a vortex of darkness, wrapping around my fear and grief, suffocating me. A familiar sensation crept up behind me. I turned and saw a massive hand dragging a silhouette into the abyss. I couldn’t see the face, but I saw the shoes. Blue and white Nikes. They stabbed into my heart like a knife. I ran forward, desperate. But the figure was dragged further away, disappearing into the void. I screamed for him not to leave me. The only answer was silence. I tried to chase him, but a piercing shriek froze me in place. “Run!” I stood paralyzed. In the endless dark ahead, two blood-red eyes snapped open. My heart spasmed violently. I felt like I was dying. Those red eyes got closer. A pale hand, covered in white fur, reached out from the shadows. I screamed, “No!” The next second, I jolted awake in my bed, my back drenched in cold sweat. It took minutes for the trembling to stop. That scene from when I was eight years old had haunted me for two-thirds of my life. Every few days, I dreamed of it. My dad’s last cry for help. For twenty years, I didn’t have the courage to face those woods. Even passing by a cluster of trees made me feel like those red eyes were watching, waiting for me to step in. It shouldn’t have been him. It should have been me. I spent twenty years researching what It was. Folklore varied. Some called it a Devil Monkey, others a Wendigo, or a Skinwalker. But like my dad said: “No one knows its name. Everyone who sees it dies.” No. That wasn’t entirely accurate. My dad traded his life for mine. I became the first person to see it and live. Records of the creature went back over a hundred years. A group of trappers went into the deep woods. Only the guy left at the base camp survived. He heard a scream, and then his friends’ heads were tossed out of the tree line. It became a local legend. Hunting parties were formed, but for decades, nothing was found. It vanished as if it never existed. Then, in the late 90s, it reappeared. A group of hikers. The guide went to take a leak, heard a scream, and came back to five bloody corpses. The forest rangers searched for two weeks and found nothing. The third time it appeared, it took my dad. I told the police, but they found no trace. But a plan had been brewing in my mind for twenty years. I got out of bed, stood by the window, and made a call. “Is the team ready?” “This time, it’s not getting away.” 2 “This is Sarge. That’s Dutch.” My best friend, Mike, introduced me to the two men. They were veteran hunters, ex-military. I paid a fortune to get them. They had survival skills that could keep them alive in hell. They only agreed when I put fifty grand on the table. The woods were a remote branch of the Appalachian Mountains. Rarely visited, except by a few locals living off the grid. My dad had taken me there for a distant relative’s funeral all those years ago. It took us a full day of travel to reach the village on the edge of the forest. The old village head welcomed us, but when he heard what we were after, he turned pale. “Son, listen to me. Don’t go in there.” “That thing takes lives. Everyone who sees it dies.” My voice was low. “I know you mean well, Uncle. But I have to go. I saw it when I was a kid. It took my father.” The old man paused, frowning deeply. “Son, leave now. That thing… it can smell you. It might come down the mountain tonight just to finish the job.” That was a new detail. Inside his cabin, the village head told us what he knew. No one knew exactly what it was. It looked like an ape, but its scream was unearthly. Its bite force was stronger than a bear or a tiger. People found in the past had their skulls crushed. It usually stayed dormant unless something woke it up. But again, no survivors meant no details. As for the smell? A few years ago, a group of poachers went up in winter, looking for easy fur. They heard the scream. They tried to retreat, but one by one, they were picked off. Only one old poacher made it down. He claimed he saw it—huge, pale hands. Hands strong enough to snap a neck like a twig. He thought he was safe. The next morning, the villagers found a hole in his roof. The poacher was gone. They found him that afternoon by a creek. His head was crushed. Giant prints surrounded the body. Rumor had it the creature fled because the police brought heavy firepower. Sarge and Dutch exchanged a look. “This thing sounds supernatural.” I looked at them. “You can back out now. I won’t force you.” Sarge shook his head. “I’m in. My mom needs surgery, and this money saves her.” Dutch shrugged. “I need the cash for my wedding. I’m in.” Seeing he couldn’t stop us, the village head went to his shed and came back with two sticks of old mining explosives. “Leftover from when they blasted the road years ago. Don’t know if they still work, but take ’em. If you can kill that thing, we can all sleep easier.” I thanked him. That night, the creature didn’t come for me. But none of us slept well. The next morning, under a heavy fog, we stepped into the woods. 3 “Fog’s thick. Stay close,” Sarge ordered, taking point. “Don’t get more than ten feet apart.” Dutch took the rear, armed with a compound crossbow and two combat knives. If something jumped us, the crossbow was silent and deadly. Mike and I were in the middle, carrying jagged triangular bayonets—military surplus. Nasty things. One stab leaves a wound that doesn’t close. We walked for ten minutes. The fog got thicker. The forest was dead silent. It felt like walking into the mouth of a sleeping beast. Sarge slowed down, tightening the formation. Nothing happened for the first half-hour. We found a clearing to rest. Sarge looked around, frowning. “Something’s wrong. This place… it ain’t right.” Dutch nodded. Mike and I were confused. We were street fighters, not woodsmen. Sarge explained. “A forest this deep shouldn’t be this quiet. Birds, bugs, small game… there should be noise. Deer, boars, badgers—they aren’t usually this scared of humans because nobody comes out here.” “But it’s dead silent. That usually means one of two things.” “One: A natural disaster is coming. Fire, flood, quake. Animals sense it and bolt.” “Two: This is the territory of an apex predator. Something so terrifying that everything else cleared out.” We all leaned toward option two. It meant It was nearby. We sat back-to-back, weapons drawn, listening. Usually, a predator would have attacked by now. A tiger or bear would smell us entering their turf immediately. The fact that we hadn’t been attacked yet was unnerving. It meant the thing was smart. Cunning. After a while, we moved on. As we approached a creek, Sarge stopped again. Still silent. No animals drinking. That was terrifying. It meant this thing was the absolute ruler here. Nothing dared to even take a sip of water. Sarge bent down, examining something on the ground. It was a shard of bone. But it looked carved. Like a knife. Why would a bone knife be this deep in the woods? 4 “What the hell?!” Mike screamed. We spun around to see him hanging upside down in the air. A snare trap. Hidden perfectly in the leaves. I rushed forward with my knife to cut him down. “Wait!” Dutch hissed. “We’ve got company.” I looked around. Figures emerged from the mist. Men painted in camouflage made of mud and crushed plants. They stared at us with hostile eyes. Their voices were guttural, their English broken and archaic. “Leave. You. Go.” “Not welcome.” I froze. What year was this? Sarge stepped forward, speaking a few words in a dialect I didn’t recognize. Their expressions softened slightly. “Mountain folk,” Sarge whispered to us. “They live off the grid. Old ways.” They weren’t cavemen, just isolated. They traded furs occasionally but kept to themselves. Their camouflage was so good we hadn’t seen them until they moved. There were only about five of them. Probably all the men of their small clan. Sarge spoke to them for a moment, then turned back to us, looking grim. “We have to go. They’re kicking us out. They say the ‘Old One’ told them to catch us.” My head spun. The thing gives orders to humans? It made sense in a twisted way. If they lived here, they had to coexist with it. We cut Mike down and retreated to the edge of their territory, herded by their spears and bone knives. Once we were clear, they vanished back into the foliage. Sarge looked at me. “Boss… they don’t call it a beast. They call it ‘Abaha’.” “Like a god?” I asked. “Yeah. The Mountain God. The Supreme Spirit.” Sarge explained. In these mountains, the old folklore runs deep. Abaha isn’t just a monster; it’s a totem. A deity. To them, its orders are divine law. But Sarge added, “Tribes often call powerful creatures manifestations of gods. A massive tiger might be called the Mountain Lord. Doesn’t mean it’s magic. Just means it’s top of the food chain.” I frowned. “So we can’t hunt it?” Sarge pointed to a ridge in the distance. “We circle around their territory. Over there. We lure the Abaha out. Then we kill it.”

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After my movie star mother was sent to a mental hospital, I was tortured to death by my manipulative “green tea” stepmother. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn… as a four-year-old! On a family reality show, the Green Tea stuffed me into a washing machine to frame my mom. I wailed at the top of my lungs. “The Bad Auntie told me to get in! She said there was a kitty inside! She said she’s gonna be my new mommy and I can’t listen to my old mommy anymore!” The Green Tea tried to shush me, whispering threats. I screamed louder, backing away in terror. “Auntie, I promise I won’t tell the truth anymore! Please don’t kill me!” She stood up in shock, and I threw myself down the stairs. “Mommy! Daddy! Help! Auntie’s threats didn’t work so now she’s trying to silence me for good!” She exploded, trying to explain herself, but literally zero people believed her. [She’s four years old! How could she frame you?] [I swear, if this Green Tea tries to hurt anyone else, I will drag her until she quits the internet!] Watching her get torn apart online, her reputation in tatters, I smiled. Your tricks might work on a toddler, but this time? The tables have turned. 1 “Summer!” Chloe, the Green Tea in question, gritted her teeth. “Look at the camera and think carefully before you speak. Did Auntie tell you to get in, or did your mommy forget you were inside when she started the laundry?!” Seeing Chloe on the verge of a breakdown, I cried even harder. “Waaaah! It was you! You told me to get in! I was scared because Mommy said the washing machine is dangerous, but you said there was a kitty inside! You said you were too big to fit, so I had to save the kitty!” Chloe looked like she was about to explode. She couldn’t understand. She had me wrapped around her finger before. Why was I suddenly not playing along? Not only did I refuse to frame my mom, Scarlett, but I was exposing her right in front of everyone. How could a four-year-old know how to do this? She stomped her foot in frustration. She had no idea that I was reborn. In my past life, Chloe tricked me into climbing into the washing machine, then publicly accused my mom of having postpartum depression and trying to kill me. Four-year-old me didn’t understand anything. I was just scared by the yelling and cried. Chloe took the opportunity to “protect” me in her arms, secretly pinching me to make me nod along with her lies. My mom spiraled into depression because of these setups. She started doubting herself, even engaging in self-harm. My dad tried to protect us, but soon after, Chloe snuck into his room, took compromising photos, and leaked them. After that, my happy family fell apart. Mom had a complete breakdown and was sent to a sanitarium. Dad, under immense public pressure, married Chloe. A year later, I “accidentally” fell and became paralyzed. My life became hell. No outdoors, no friends. Just lying in a dull room, staring at the ceiling, waiting to die. I prayed countless times to go back to the moment I first met Chloe. I swore if I got a second chance, I would tear off her mask and make her suffer a thousand times over. And now, I’m back. Chloe, the show is just beginning. Noticing the commotion, the crew started to gather around. I wailed even louder. “Auntie, I’m sorry! I won’t tell the truth anymore!” “I won’t tell everyone you like my daddy and want to be my new mommy! Please stop pinching me!” Chloe shot up from her chair in rage. I saw my chance and rolled myself down the stairs. “Help! The weird Auntie is trying to kill me because I won’t listen to her!” That scream brought everyone running. My parents, Jason and Scarlett, who were downstairs cooking, rushed up. Mom grabbed me, while Dad, radiating a chill, slapped Chloe hard across the face. “Are you insane?! She’s a child!” Chloe was stunned. “I didn’t! It wasn’t me! She’s framing me!” Mom gritted her teeth, ignoring the cameras, and slapped her twice more. “Why would she frame you? She’s four years old!” Chloe clutched her face, stammering, unable to say a word. In that moment, everything felt right. In my last life, I was too young to understand the dark currents between adults. But now, the one who couldn’t explain herself was finally Chloe. The crew arrived just in time to see me fall as Chloe stood up. They didn’t hesitate to testify for me. The producers were furious and wanted to kick Chloe off the show. At the critical moment, I hugged Chloe’s leg. “Auntie said she didn’t mean to push me. I’m not hurt. Please don’t punish her.” My parents looked at my pitiful face, tears welling up. “Sweetheart, she bullied you so much, and you’re still defending her… oh…” The livestream comments were flooded with praise. [Is this Jason and Scarlett’s daughter? She’s adorable and so kind-hearted! I’m in love.] [Only the children of movie stars could have such great character. I’m a fan!] [I’m watching this show solely to protect Summer. If Chloe hurts her again, I’m rallying the girls to cancel her into oblivion!] Amidst the praise, I looked at the defeated Chloe. “Apologize to me, and we’ll forget about it.” Chloe clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. But even so, she knew she had to bend. “I’m sorry.” I smiled politely. Seeing me forgive her, no one else pressed the issue. But this sealed her fate. She apologized, which meant she admitted to bullying a child. She bowed to stay on the show, but to the world, that bow was a confession. Chloe would never escape the label of a child abuser. Forevermore, people would remember her as the woman who pushed a kid down the stairs because threats didn’t work. Just thinking about it felt good! 2 The show went on. My parents comforted me, checked for injuries, and went back to cooking. This time, they were smarter. They sat me on a little stool right by the kitchen door. I swung my legs, and soon enough, I spotted a sneaky Chloe. She was holding a beautifully wrapped bento box, smiling at me with sinister intent. Meeting my gaze, she forced her expression into a twisted, ugly smile. “Sweetie, Auntie doesn’t know what I did to make you misunderstand me.” “Look, Auntie made you pudding. Try it. Consider it Auntie’s apology, okay?” I smiled back. It didn’t reach my eyes. “Sure!” I snatched the pudding and ran toward my parents on my short legs. “Look! The weird Auntie made me pudding! Yay! It’s mango flavor!” Hearing “mango,” my parents’ faces went pale. They abandoned the stove and lunged at me. “Don’t eat it! You’re allergic to mango!” I stopped immediately and spat the pudding out obediently. “That’s so weird. The weird Auntie knows I’m allergic. Why did she give it to me?” “Oh my gosh, is she trying to hurt me?” My parents turned green. They unleashed hell on Chloe. “Are you sick in the head?! The production notes clearly state Summer is allergic to mango! Feeding her allergens on purpose? You’re trying to kill her!” “Summer is four! How did a child offend you so much that you’d push her down stairs and then poison her?! If you have a problem with us, come at us! Leave the kid alone!” “Chloe, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Berated by my parents, Chloe pointed a trembling finger at me. “Summer, I never said that was for you! You’re framing me again!” I spread my chubby little hands. “Check the cameras then.” The laundry room didn’t have cameras, so I had to rely on the hallway cam to catch my fall. But the kitchen was on the first floor. Cameras everywhere. Video and audio. Chloe’s arrogance vanished. “Th-there’s a misunderstanding. I bought the pudding. I didn’t know it had mango.” I pouted. “Tch.” “You just said you made it yourself. Do you really think I’m a three-year-old?” The comments went wild. [Four-year-old Summer be like: I’m not a three-year-old.] [Why is a grown woman always trying to hurt Summer? Does she get off on abusing kids? Investigate her!] [Stop laughing guys, allergies can kill. This isn’t a joke.] Everyone held their breath, waiting for my parents’ decision. They looked at me. I nodded seriously. “Since Auntie says I framed her, let’s check. I’m just a kid, I can’t grow up being called a liar.” Chloe’s eyes reddened, on the verge of tears. “Don’t…” Her reaction said it all. The people here were entertainment bigwigs. They weren’t stupid. Someone pulled the footage. Chloe tricking me into eating the pudding was played back in high definition for everyone to see and hear. Chloe was dumbfounded. In my last life, she gave me mango pudding too. Right before dinner. After watching me eat it, she added mango jam to the dessert Mom made. During dinner, I went into anaphylactic shock. Swelling up, suffocating. Everyone investigated. They found mango in Mom’s dessert. Dad was disappointed. The public attacked her. Mom was consumed by guilt. She truly believed she was a bad mother. She spiraled into regret and self-blame, afraid to even touch me after that. It gave Chloe the perfect opening! Thinking of Mom’s broken tears, my heart ached. I buried my face in her chest and sobbed. “Mommy, I’m scared. Will the allergy kill me? I don’t want to die.” Mom held me with one arm, clenched her other fist, stood up, and punched Chloe to the ground. “You animal!” The comments exploded. [That punch was clean! Is this the power of a mother?] [Scarlett’s range just expanded. She can do action movies now!] [Well deserved! Anyone who hurts kids is a psycho. She deserved that beating!] The slap mark on Chloe’s face had just faded, and now it was swelling up again. She was livid! “How dare you hit me!” She looked at my dad, acting fragile. “Jason, look at her. How can she be so violent…” Before she finished, Dad punched her on the other side of her face. “What is your problem? You poison my daughter in front of me and then try to tattle on my wife?” “I don’t hit women or children, but for an animal like you, I’ll make an exception!” I couldn’t help but giggle. The room filled with stifled laughter. Chloe gritted her teeth for a while, then ran off crying. This time, the producers didn’t let it slide. They issued a termination notice. Since it was late, they told her to pack up and leave first thing in the morning. I didn’t argue. I knew Chloe would use the remaining time to pull something else. The tighter the deadline, the more pressure she’d feel, and the more mistakes she’d make. That night, the group dispersed early because of the drama. I deliberately pestered Mom to take me outside to count stars. Soon enough, I saw a thin figure by the hotel corridor window. Someone couldn’t wait. Hook, line, and sinker! “Mommy, let’s go find Daddy!” “Can you start a livestream? I want everyone to see Daddy reading me a bedtime story!” Bedtime stories were our family ritual. Tonight was Dad’s turn. Considering I fell down stairs and almost got poisoned today, Mom didn’t lecture me about privacy. She played along and started the stream. I held the phone, my little legs pumping fast. [Hi brothers and sisters! Want to hear a story with Summer?] The comments praised my parents for spoiling me, asked about my health, and laughed at my precociousness. Soon, I led Mom to quietly ambush Dad’s room. “Mommy, let’s sneak in. We’ll scare Daddy with the fans!” Mom laughed and tiptoed along with me. We snuck to the bedside. I jumped up and slapped the light switch. And there, two million viewers came face-to-face with Chloe, wearing risqué lingerie. In the dead silence, I let out an ear-piercing scream. “Why is the weird Auntie naked?! Why is she wearing bunny ears?! Scary!!” Mom covered my eyes and started kicking Dad, who was in the bed. “Jason! Get up!” Dad swayed but didn’t react. My heart went cold. “Oh no! The weird Auntie killed Daddy!” Mom realized something was wrong and called the medics. Checkup result: Dad was in a coma from an overdose of sleeping pills. And the source of the pills… Everyone looked at Chloe. Chloe was taken away by the police for investigation before she could even explain. A few days later, the results were out. Chloe drugged Dad and stole his key card, planning to create a scandal to force his hand. The news nailed her to the cross of shame. She became the most hated female celebrity of the year. Bar none. Her career was over. Contracts were canceled due to the morality clause. She was drowning in debt. I finally breathed a sigh of relief, hugging my parents tight. In this life, I won’t lose you again.

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I was a nobody in Hollywood, a B-list actress at best. My sugar daddy, however, was Rupert Sterling, the man who could make or break careers in the city with a single phone call. In my past life, I’d been a desperate, dramatic fool. Hired as a stand-in, I’d tried to scheme my way into the leading role, to push out the woman I was meant to imitate. I’d even faked a pregnancy and stormed the Sterling mansion to demand a title, earning his ultimate disgust and losing the shield of his protection. In the end, hunted by my rivals, I met a cold, watery grave in the unforgiving ocean. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn on the exact day I’d tried to force Rupert into a proposal. The very day his affection had first curdled into contempt. “Mr. Sterling, when are we going to…” Rupert’s brow furrowed slightly as he glanced at me. “Going to what?” “Go… go our separate ways! I meant, when are we over?” 1 Rupert said nothing. But the icy mask of his expression seemed to mock me, a silent reminder that I had no right to make that decision. A man born into power, he was used to being in control. Even if he didn’t love me, this relationship was supposed to end on his terms, and his alone. Sensing the dangerous shift in the air, I scrambled to recover. “Kelly Lister is back in town, isn’t she? I’d hate for her to be unhappy seeing someone else by your side.” I was Kelly Lister’s double. In the tabloids, they called me “Little Kelly.” It was this face, a near-perfect copy of hers, that had caught Rupert’s eye all those years ago. Now, the original was back. There was still time to fix things. I would never again fight for his attention or try to sideline the real star. And I would certainly never again be foolish enough to dream of becoming Mrs. Sterling. My new strategy was simple: play the part of the considerate mistress, end things amicably for my benefactor’s sake, and walk away. Who knew? Maybe Rupert, pleased with my good sense, would toss a mansion my way as a parting gift. I looked at him, my eyes wide with manufactured hope. But at the mention of Kelly’s name, Rupert’s expression darkened. “Don’t mention her to me,” he said, his voice laced with ice. Oh, right. At this point in time, Kelly had just returned but hadn’t bothered to contact him. He was simmering with a quiet rage. And I had just walked straight into the line of fire. I quickly bowed my head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sterling. I overstepped.” His deep, unreadable eyes studied me for a long moment. Seeing my performance of a docile little thing, he let out a short, sharp scoff. “Behave yourself,” he said. “I won’t mistreat you.” Behave yourself was a clear warning: Don’t go near Kelly Lister. As for not mistreating me… that was the truth. Rupert was incredibly generous. He showered me with jewelry and cash without a second thought. Any acting role I wanted, he delivered on a silver platter. The gossip blogs always say, where the money flows, so does the love. That’s why, in my last life, I’d naively believed there was a place for me in his heart. I’d become arrogant, entitled, making enemies everywhere and creating drama at every turn. It all culminated in me showing up at his family’s estate waving a forged pregnancy test. At the time, Rupert was in the middle of a vicious power struggle with his illegitimate half-siblings, and my stunt became a public relations nightmare for him. With that single act, I had exhausted the last shred of his patience. He’d cast me aside completely, revoking his protection. The memory of the bone-chilling water filling my lungs, the suffocating darkness… a violent shiver ran through me. I instinctively burrowed deeper into the solid warmth of Rupert’s chest. “I’ll be good, Mr. Sterling. I promise.” And faking it was easy. If I just locked my heart away and treated him as my boss, what was the difference between this and a regular job? The seven-figure monthly allowance was my salary. The jewelry and designer bags on holidays were my corporate bonuses. His handsome face was just a perk of the work environment. The blockbuster TV shows he funded for me were like company-sponsored MBAs, designed to boost my skills and public profile. And when the day came that Rupert grew tired of me… He was a man of his word. He wouldn’t treat a woman who’d been with him poorly. The breakup fee would be my generous severance package. What a great company! What a great boss! 2 “What are you smiling about?” Rupert’s voice jolted me from my reverie. I realized I’d been grinning like an idiot and quickly schooled my features. “Nothing… I wasn’t smiling.” He gently pushed me away, straightening the collar of his shirt I’d wrinkled. “I’m taking you to a party tonight,” he said. “Dress nicely.” In my past life, this was the night of my first face-to-face battle with Kelly. I had worn a couture gown Rupert had gifted me, only to find Kelly in the exact same one. Her friends had swarmed me, calling me a cheap imitation, a knock-off. I’d lost my temper and started a fight. In the chaos, I’d even pushed Kelly over when she tried to intervene. Rupert had been genuinely furious. He’d given me the silent treatment for a whole month, a month I’d spent in lovesick agony, begging for his forgiveness. This time, I wouldn’t go anywhere near Kelly. It wasn’t that I feared his cold shoulder. It was mostly… that I was afraid he’d cut off my allowance for a month, just like last time. As I was getting ready, I stood before my closet, picking out a dress. That white gown that had caused all the trouble was definitely out. But just as I was about to put it aside, a low voice came from behind me. “Wear that one.” Rupert was standing in the doorway of the walk-in closet. His tone left no room for argument. I had no choice but to obey. When I came out, dressed in the gown, his gaze lingered on me for an unusually long moment. “You look good in white,” he complimented. It just made me look more like Kelly. Hah. Men. The moment we arrived at the party, Rupert was mobbed by a crowd of admirers, leaving me to fend for myself. Bored, I looked for a quiet corner to hide in. But Kelly’s friends found me first. “You have some nerve, wearing the same dress as Kelly. Who do you think you are?” I scratched my ear, pretending I hadn’t heard them. Kelly, however, approached with a gentle smile. “You must be the woman with Rupert, right? This dress is one of only two in the world. It’s priceless. Did he give it to you? He must really like you.” Then she lowered her head, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. If Rupert was my boss, Kelly was the untouchable boss’s wife. Besides, I had no reason to make enemies and repeat my tragic fate. I smiled back. “Ms. Lister, don’t misunderstand. Mr. Sterling specifically told me to wear this dress tonight. I think he brought me here to make you jealous.” Rupert never took me to these events. For him to do so on the very night Kelly was back in town… it was obviously a power play meant to provoke her. I didn’t mind being the pawn that pleased both sides. “Stop with the innocent act!” One of Kelly’s friends shoved me hard. I stumbled backward, crashing into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. I didn’t fall, but red wine splashed all over my white dress. A good amount of it splattered onto Kelly as well. The scene was ugly. Only now did I realize just how mortifying it had been to get into a public brawl in my past life. Rupert arrived just in time to see the aftermath. The women were huddled around Kelly, comforting her while eagerly throwing me under the bus. “Kelly just happened to be wearing the same dress! Did you have to ruin hers over it?” 3 Rupert shot me a glacial look, then his eyes softened as they landed on Kelly. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked utterly fragile. “Rupert, don’t blame her,” she whispered pitifully. What a massive accusation. I wasn’t about to take the fall for this. “The waitstaff must have seen everything,” I said, my voice steady. “They pushed me first. I didn’t start this. And besides…” I pointed toward a security camera mounted on the ceiling. “The camera will have the truth.” “Well… it was your fault for showing off the dress Mr. Sterling bought you! You were trying to provoke Kelly!” So, no matter what, it was my fault. All eyes turned to Rupert, waiting for the king to pass judgment. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over Kelly’s shoulders. “Wear this for now,” he said gently. “I’ll have someone take you to get changed. I’m sorry.” Of course. The scales of affection always tip one way. Even if I proved my innocence, he would always protect his darling. But that didn’t matter to me anymore. Rupert’s face was a mask of thunder as he dragged me to the car. The second the door slammed shut, he yanked at his tie. “Stay the hell away from her,” he hissed, his voice dangerously low. In my past life, this scene had played out countless times. And what did I do? I cried. I played the victim. But now, I just said calmly, “Mr. Sterling, it shouldn’t be hard for you to see that I was the one who was bullied tonight.” He was clearly stunned by my rational, emotionless response. He stared at me for a moment before replying, “I know, but Kelly’s family was there. I had to protect…” “I understand,” I cut in, a serene smile on my face. “But I can’t be humiliated for nothing, can I? As compensation, how about you give me that S-plus blockbuster script?” In my previous life, Kelly had skyrocketed to fame with that very role. I had been sick with envy. I had begged Rupert for it, but he had refused, saying my acting skills weren’t strong enough for a major production. Please. Was Kelly’s acting really that much better? The woman could barely hide her triumphant smirk when he gave her his jacket. Rupert’s lips thinned into a hard line. After a long moment of consideration, he finally said, “Fine.” I pressed my advantage, pointing to the wine stain on my dress. “And you owe me a new dress. Cash would be preferable.” Rupert might not have been a good partner, but he was certainly a considerate boss. He agreed without hesitation. But his gaze remained on me, sharp and probing, for a long time. The drive home was silent. Normally, I would be chattering away, annoying him until he snapped at me to shut up. But now, I was happily scrolling through diet-food videos on my phone. I completely ignored the daggers he was shooting at me from the driver’s seat, and the pointed, attention-seeking clearing of his throat. Hehehe. This was bliss. After a long day at “work,” I was exhausted. The moment we got home, I abandoned Rupert and dove into the bathroom for a long, fragrant shower. I snuggled into my blankets, humming with contentment. I didn’t get his slippers. I didn’t run his bath. Rupert’s expression grew even darker than it had been at the party. He started making a racket, slamming his phone on the nightstand, leaving the bathroom door open while he showered, the sound of rushing water filling the room. It was so distracting that I finally put on my headphones to watch my show in peace. When he was done, he climbed into bed and, out of habit, stretched his arm out towards me. Oh, right. That was my fault. I used to shamelessly use his arm as a pillow, and now it was a reflex for him. I just rolled over, pretending I hadn’t seen a thing. Click. As the breathing beside me grew heavier, the lamp was slammed off. Three seconds later. Click. The light was on again. Rupert shot up in bed, his jaw clenched. “Ava Reed,” he ground out through his teeth. “What in the hell are you so angry about?” 4 Huh? I was being blamed again? I scrambled to sit up, putting on my best customer-service smile for the boss. “Angry? Why would I be angry? You gave me a major role and a pile of cash. I couldn’t be happier!” “You…” He seemed genuinely furious now. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me close until our faces were inches apart. “You’re happy about this?” So being angry was wrong, and being happy was also wrong? This boss was impossible to please. I quickly laid on the charm. “With a boss as generous as you, Mr. Sterling, of course I’m happy!” Rupert narrowed his eyes, his grip on my wrist tightening. “What did you just call me?” “Boss…” That was it. He was officially furious. His eyes were like chips of ice. He stared into my eyes for a long, tense moment, as if searching for something he couldn’t find. I started to feel a prickle of fear under his intense gaze and quickly looked down. Suddenly, a hand clamped around my waist. In one swift motion, he pulled me down, and I was lying flat on my back again. He rolled on top of me, his lips brushing against my ear. His voice was like poison. “Fine,” he whispered. “Then you can work some overtime tonight.” I didn’t know what possessed Rupert that night. All I remembered was a desperate, almost punishing passion. The next morning, I woke up with every muscle in my body aching. I could barely focus on my script, yawning through every line. Filming started in three months; I had to be ready. I couldn’t let this blockbuster IP, the one that had made Kelly a superstar in my past life, fail in my hands. Even during breaks on a commercial shoot, I was studying my character’s psychology and memorizing lines. My agent, Catherine, came over to me. “Ava,” she said, “you’ve been different lately.” “Different how?” “Well… a lot nicer.” I hated Hollywood. It had destroyed the starry-eyed girl who had once dreamed of being an actress. So, in my past life, I had loathed my job. When a director with a short fuse yelled at me, I’d use Rupert’s name to storm off set, letting the whole production crash and burn. When the paparazzi ambushed me, I’d charge them, smash their expensive cameras to pieces, and have my lawyer follow up. When a young co-star tried to give Rupert a cake during a set visit, I’d have her fired immediately and then publicly call her out on social media. Everyone knew I was a nobody with an ego the size of a planet. My reputation was in the gutter. When you fall from grace, even the dogs will bite. In the end, I never even found out which of my many enemies had me killed. But in this life, I wasn’t making enemies. The director yells at me? I put my hands together and bow. “I’m so sorry, director. Can we please do one more take?” The paparazzi snap my picture? I bring them coffee. “Working hard, guys? Make sure you get my good side, okay?” A young actress brings a cake? I give her pointers. “Mr. Sterling prefers lime-flavored. Just a tip for next time.” My public image was soaring. Gleefully, I opened up my social media to bask in the trending topics about myself. But the first thing I saw was a headline that made my blood run cold: 【Ava Reed Steals Role】. The entire feed was a flood of outrage from Kelly Lister’s fans. My carefully rebuilt reputation crumbled in an instant. Before filming had even begun, the comments were already filled with calls to boycott the new show. As the online firestorm grew, I rushed to Rupert’s office. His secretary, who remembered my old diva antics, didn’t dare stop me. She just stammered, “Ms. Reed, Ms. Lister is still in there.” Is she? Then I have even more reason to go in. 5 If Kelly Lister shed a single tear, Rupert would snatch this role away from me without a second thought. I couldn’t let that happen. Kelly turned around as I entered. She was wearing heavy sunglasses, and her face was pale. She pointed a slender, accusing finger at me. “Rupert, are you really going to take this from me for her?” she said, her voice trembling. “I know I hurt you back then, but isn’t this revenge a little too cruel?” My gaze went past Kelly to Rupert, who was sitting at his desk, his expression impassive. The moment his eyes met mine, a flicker of indecision crossed his face. It was over. He was going to give the role to Kelly. I saw her sunglasses start to slip, revealing eyes already red-rimmed, a tear about to fall. I had to act first. I captured Rupert’s attention, my voice firm. “Mr. Sterling, you promised me this.” He tugged at the corner of his lip, annoyed. “You don’t even like acting. This can’t be that important to you.” “Of course it’s important.” I held his gaze, refusing to back down. “Honestly, I understand you’re in a difficult position. I never expected fairness from you. But this was your promise, and I have stayed up every night for the past month studying this script. You’ve seen how hard I’ve worked.” I had been reading until dawn every night. Not wanting to disturb Rupert, I had started sleeping in the guest room. He’d put up with it for a few days, but after a week, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He had stormed into the guest room, snatched the script from my hands, and thrown it onto the bed in the master suite. “You’ll read it under my watch,” he had grumbled. “I’d like to see what’s in this thin little booklet that requires a week of your time.” Rupert despised incompetence. He had mocked my slow pace, but he had also coached me, pointing out where my understanding of the character’s psychology was lacking. He had witnessed my effort. And it worked. The hesitation in his eyes began to fade, replaced by a look of deep curiosity. He didn’t say a word. He just buzzed his secretary and asked her to escort Kelly home. Once we were alone in the office, he rubbed his temples. “You’re not yourself lately,” he said. He was right. I didn’t cling to him anymore. In bed, I was passive, a silent partner offering neither initiation nor rejection, and certainly no emotional validation. When Kelly called him, I would quietly excuse myself, closing the door behind me. When he came home late, I was already sound asleep, getting my beauty rest instead of waiting up for him. I couldn’t help it. My days were packed: reading scripts, taking acting classes, managing my small investments. And now, here I was, reasoning with him like a business partner, devoid of any emotion. I smiled, and as a small reward, I leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m busy, but I’m still obedient, aren’t I? Boss.” Rupert’s face soured. He waved a dismissive hand, telling me to leave. But I knew him. After two years, I knew that look. The role was mine. And sure enough, the trending topic vanished from social media. The show’s official account announced me as the female lead. Mission accomplished. Nothing else mattered.

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The day my sister stepped into the limousine to take my place at the altar, Roman received a final notice from the hospital. “Mr. Ashford,” the voice on the other end was clipped, professional, yet laced with an ultimatum. “Ms. Lowell’s account is significantly in arrears. If the balance isn’t cleared today, we will be forced to cease all life-sustaining measures.” Roman let out a short, incredulous laugh, the sound sharp against the hum of the wedding preparations. “Tell Norah to stop the theatrics. It’s embarrassing,” he sneered into the phone, adjusting his silk tie. “Tell her that even if she dies today, I’m still marrying Sienna. She can save her little performance.” Around him, the groomsmen—scions of New York’s oldest money—chuckled in solidarity. “Is that hospital looking to get shut down?” one of them scoffed, swirling his scotch. “Don’t they know who they’re talking to? The Ashfords own half of Manhattan.” The call ended. In the sterile silence of the hospital room, I watched, helpless, as the nurse reached out and disconnected the ventilator. It took less than thirty seconds. The machine’s rhythmic hum died, leaving a deafening silence. The nurse checked her watch and spoke softly to the empty room. “Time of death: October 10th, 2025.” Today was the day I died. It was also Roman’s wedding anniversary. Roman didn’t think of me again until the reception was over. When the last guest had left and the confetti had been swept away, he finally drove to the hospital. He pushed open the door to my room. Seeing my body still lying on the bed, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “See?” He turned to the empty hallway, validating his own cruelty. “I told you no one would dare cut off your meds.” He started to walk toward me, a rebuke ready on his lips. But he was stopped by a voice from behind him—a somber man from the funeral home, holding a garment bag. “Excuse me, sir. I need you to step aside. It’s time to dress the body.” 1 “Roman, let me go check on her for you. I’ll find out which hospital has the nerve to threaten the Ashford family.” Roman had rejected his groomsman’s offer with a cold wave of his hand. “There’s nothing to see. It’s just Norah’s usual cry for attention,” he said, his voice dripping with fatigue. “Ever since the accident, she plays the victim card. She claims she has ALS, says she has no money for treatment. But I send Sienna to check on her every single day. It’s all a lie.” The groomsman tried to press the issue, but Roman’s patience snapped. “Did Norah pay you off? Why are you defending her?” The friend backed down, muttering an apology. Roman’s expression hardened. “When Norah got hurt, I made a promise,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “Even though Sienna is taking her place to fulfill the marriage contract between our families, I promised to take care of Norah for the rest of her life. Who would dare neglect someone under my protection? Stopping treatment? It’s absurd.” As he spoke, he caught sight of Sienna waiting in the vintage Rolls Royce. The ice in his eyes melted instantly. I was nothing but a wisp of consciousness floating in the air, watching the man I once loved look at my sister with adoration. The bitterness in my chest was overwhelming. Roman didn’t know. From the day he decided to let Sienna wear the ring meant for me, I had been erased. My parents, desperate to cement their climb up the social ladder, backed Sienna’s decision to move me. “Move her somewhere cheap,” they had agreed. “We can’t have a cripple embarrassing the family name.” So Sienna transferred me. They dumped me in a sub-standard facility, cut off the specialists, and fired the private nurses. They let my brain injury spiral into the aggressive progression of ALS. In the beginning, Roman would call. Even when he was busy closing billion-dollar deals, he checked in. Until his mother, the formidable Victoria Ashford, stood at the foot of my bed and demanded he break the engagement. “Roman, marrying a paralyzed woman will make this family a laughingstock,” she had hissed, her face flushed with indignation. “She can’t be a hostess. She can’t give us an heir. The Ashfords do not support useless assets.” I still remember the shame of that day, having nowhere to hide my broken body. So when I heard Sienna would take my place, part of me was relieved. How could I, a woman wasting away, stand beside Roman Ashford? But now, seeing Sienna in the Vera Wang gown custom-made for my measurements, wearing the diamond Roman had cut specifically for my finger… the pain was a physical spike through my phantom heart. Inside the ballroom, glasses clinked. Someone shouted a toast. “Congrats, Roman! Here’s to a lifetime with your girl. May you have a son within the year!” The room went quiet for a split second. The “girl” was supposed to be me, once upon a time. Roman leaned toward his assistant, whispering something low. “Check on Norah’s status at the hospital.” Sienna noticed the shift in his mood. “Roman? Is everything okay?” He forced a smile, squeezing her hand. “Everything is perfect. Someone just mentioned a baby. Don’t forget that part of the deal.” Sienna blushed, and the sight burned my eyes. Even as a ghost, Roman’s tenderness toward her felt like suffocation. I wanted to flee, to dissolve into the ether. But then, the assistant rushed back in, looking frantic. “Roman, the hospital says Norah isn’t there. She was transferred months ago. She’s gone.” 2 “What did you say?” Roman shot up from his seat, his chair screeching against the floor. He moved to leave, but Sienna grabbed his arm. “Roman, where are you going?” “You visit Norah every day,” he snapped, his voice rising. “Did you know she was transferred?!” Sienna froze. A flicker of panic crossed her eyes, but she smoothed it over instantly with a practiced calmness. “Yes, I had her moved. But I did it for her own good, Roman. I found a place that specializes in her condition.” She softened her voice, pleading. “Even if you don’t trust me, you know no hospital in New York would dare mistreat a Lowell connected to an Ashford. She’s fine.” The tension in Roman’s jaw loosened slightly, but the shadow of unease remained between his brows. Sienna seized the moment, linking her arm through his and pulling him back toward the celebration. I watched him sit back down, and the flicker of hope I’d felt was extinguished. Roman, she’s lying to you! Just go to the hospital! If you go, you’ll see! I screamed at him, floating right beside his ear. I shouted until my soul ached. But he couldn’t hear me. I watched them exchange rings. My vision blurred. The reception dragged on for hours. When it finally ended, I followed Roman. He didn’t go to the bridal suite. He went to my old hospital room—the fancy one I hadn’t been in for months. He stood outside the door, listening. My heart—if it still beat—would have been deafening. But he didn’t open the door. He just looked through the small glass pane at the empty bed, assuming I was asleep. “Norah,” he whispered to the silence. “I got married today.” He leaned his forehead against the wood, sounding exhausted. “I know you hate me for marrying Sienna. But there are things out of my control. You know I loved you. I told you once—it was always you.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he remembered. We met at the Ashford estate. My parents dragged me there to network. I was supposed to play the violin for his mother’s birthday, but I froze. The stares of the elite were too heavy. It was Roman who walked onto the stage, sat at the piano, and guided me through the melody. He later claimed he just didn’t want the party ruined, but that night, our fates knotted together. Loving him was exhausting. Everyone mocked me—the climber chasing the crown prince. But on his eighteenth birthday, he took my hand in front of everyone. “Norah,” he had said, “I don’t start things I don’t finish. You’re going to be Mrs. Ashford. Don’t try to run.” We were so sure of our future then. “Don’t hate me, Norah,” Roman said now, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He looked at the “No Smoking” sign, then at my “sleeping” form through the glass, and put the lighter away. He tapped the glass gently. “Tomorrow, I’ll move you. I’ll bring you to the hospital closest to our penthouse. Okay?” The room remained silent. Finally sensing something was wrong, Roman frowned and reached for the handle. Just then, his phone rang. “Sienna’s sick? I’m coming.” His hand dropped. He turned and left. The door stayed closed. 3 I didn’t follow Roman back. I couldn’t bear to witness his wedding night. instead, I waited in the silence of the room where my body lay. Roman said he would come. He always kept his word, eventually. But the next morning, I was woken by screaming in the hallway. I drifted out and saw Nana Rose—my grandmother, the only person who ever truly loved me—arguing with Sienna. “Nana!” I cried out, reaching for her. But Nana was focused on Sienna, her eyes blazing with fury. “Norah is dead! None of you came to help her, none of you came to hold her hand, and now you want to steal her body?” Sienna didn’t back down. She crossed her arms, cold and imperious. “This is all Norah’s fault. It was my wedding night, and Roman left me alone to come check on her! She’s a curse. Even dead, she’s haunting us.” “I’m moving her body,” Sienna spat. “I’m dumping it somewhere Roman will never find it.” Nana clutched her chest, her face paling. I tried to push Sienna away, but my hands passed through her like smoke. “I don’t have a sister,” Sienna continued, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “If she hadn’t existed, everything the Lowells have would have been mine from the start. Why did I have to be the one sent away to boarding school while she stayed home?” I froze. I never knew she hated me this much. Nana was begging now. “Sienna, please. She’s gone. She can’t stop you and Roman anymore. Let her rest.” Sienna laughed, a cruel, sharp sound, and shoved Nana hard. “Old hag. I’m not soft like you. I don’t care about morality. I paid someone to arrange Norah’s ‘accident’ years ago, and she survived it. Now Roman wants to move her closer? No. She needs to disappear so he can finally forget her.” The revelation hit me like a physical blow. My paralysis… the accident that ruined my life… it was my sister. Nana screamed, “My Norah… oh, my poor Norah!” Sienna, impatient, grabbed Nana and threw her aside. Nana hit the floor hard, her head cracking against the linoleum. Blood began to pool. “What are you doing?!” I screamed, sobbing, uselessly beating my fists against Sienna’s back. “She’s your grandmother!” Sienna stepped over Nana to open the door to my room. Nana, bleeding and desperate, lunged forward and grabbed Sienna’s ankle. “I won’t let you hurt her again!” Sienna stumbled. She fell hard, her stomach hitting the floor. She gasped, curling into a ball, clutching her abdomen. Then, blood—bright and red—began to stain her white dress. “What did you do to Sienna?!” A man’s voice roared from the elevator banks. It was Roman. 4 “Roman!” I screamed, pointing at Nana. “Sienna hurt Nana! Look at the blood on her head!” But Roman was deaf to me. His eyes were locked only on the crimson stain spreading across Sienna’s white skirt. Sienna, eyes bloodshot and wild, grabbed Roman’s sleeve. “Roman… I just wanted to see my sister… but Nana… she told me to get out. She attacked me… I couldn’t fight back… our baby…” I stood frozen. Baby? I looked at Roman’s panicked profile, and my world collapsed for the second time. They had been together long enough to conceive. While I was rotting in a bed, waiting for a call that never came. Roman glared at the closed door of my room, his voice vibrating with rage. “Norah! I promised I’d move you today! Why would you incite this violence against Sienna? Come out here and apologize to her right now! Or I swear, I am done with you!” The room remained silent. I trembled, watching him. Nana, clutching her chest, gasped out, “Mr. Ashford… Norah is dead… she couldn’t have told me to do anything… Sienna is lying…” Roman paused, a frown creasing his forehead. Sienna saw his hesitation. “Roman, would I lie about our child? Nana has always hated me. She only ever loved Norah.” Roman’s doubt vanished. He signaled his bodyguards. Two massive men grabbed Nana, pinning her arms. Roman turned back to the door. “Norah. If you don’t come out, I’ll let the person you love most pay the price for you.” He checked his watch. “Three seconds.” “Roman, I’m dead! Please, leave her alone!” I screamed. “Just open the door! Just look!” He nodded to his guard. The man kicked Nana in the back of the knee. She collapsed to the floor with a sickening thud, gasping for air. “Apologize to my fiancée!” the guard barked. “I… I can’t breathe…” Nana wheezed. “Asthma…” Her trembling hands fumbled for her purse. But Sienna reached out and kicked the bag across the hall. “Keep kneeling,” Sienna sneered. “I don’t feel your apology yet.” Roman watched Sienna’s cruelty. He opened his mouth to object, but then his eyes fell on the blood on her dress again, and he stayed silent. I tried to hold Nana, my tears mixing with the blood on her face. “Roman, please! Help her!” Just as Nana’s face began to turn purple, the elevator chimed. A staff member from the funeral home walked out, holding a garment bag. He looked around the chaotic hallway. “Where is the family of Norah Lowell? I have the burial shroud. Who is going to dress her?”

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1 The men broke when they saw the last child in the safe room torn apart by a zombie while still alive. “Captain! You said she was just a jealous liar! You told us to guard you and Serena during the fireworks!” “So why is my month-old son in pieces?!” Jason’s face turned deathly pale. I watched, my heart bleeding. In my past life, during the zombie attack, my husband Jason took all the guards to watch fireworks with his childhood sweetheart, Serena. I screamed myself hoarse, calling them back, and saved everyone. But angry about missing the show, Serena stormed out alone and was torn to pieces by zombies. After killing the horde, Jason held her remaining leg bone, silent. That silence lasted until the day I gave birth. Then, he chopped off my limbs alive and fed me to the zombies. He’d watch them eat me, heal me, and repeat it, over and over. “You venomous bitch,” he’d snarled. “You killed her. So your death will be a thousand times worse.” When I opened my eyes, I was back—back to the day the zombies first attacked. … I was reborn the moment the sound of their guttural roars echoed through the forest. On pure instinct, I shot out of my room and threw myself at the console in the broadcast center. “Attention, everyone! Attention!” My voice crackled over the speakers. “A massive zombie horde is approaching! All personnel, evacuate to the safe room immediately!” The words had barely left my lips when the first terrified screams erupted outside. “Move!” I grabbed the machete from my belt, trying to herd the panicked crowd while simultaneously hacking down the first few infected that broke through the perimeter. The retreat was a chaotic nightmare. I scooped up a few children who were frozen in terror and shoved them through the heavy steel doors of the safe room. CLANG! The lock slammed shut, sealing us off from the hell outside, if only for a moment. The survivors, still reeling from the shock, collapsed to the floor, their sobs echoing in the enclosed space. A woman clutching an infant grabbed my arm, her eyes wide with panic. “Aria… you have to find Captain Jason! Get them back here to save us!” I closed my eyes, forcing myself to deliver the cruel truth. “Jason took the entire security team to the summit on the edge of town. He’s protecting Serena while she watches the fireworks.” The room exploded. “Fireworks? Now?” “He’s insane! He left us all here to die… for her?” Just then, a deafening sound reverberated through the room. BANG! BANG! BANG! The steel door shuddered with each impact, the center beginning to buckle and warp. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before it gave way. We couldn’t wait for him. “Maybe… maybe we don’t need them,” I said, a desperate idea forming. I turned to Jason’s mother. “Mom! The electric fence! If we can activate the high-voltage grid, we can fry them!” Her eyes lit up. “Yes! The fence!” She quickly pulled out her comms device. With every eye in the room fixed on her, she made the call. A moment later, Jason’s voice came through, laced with annoyance. “Mom? What is it? I’m a little busy right now.” His mother swallowed her rage, her words coming in a rush. “Jason, the base is under attack! A whole horde! The safe room won’t hold for much longer! You have to activate the perimeter fence, now!” The air grew thick with tension. “Are you kidding me?” he scoffed. “The power is being diverted to the summit lights. I can’t spare a single watt. Do you want to ruin the mood for Serena’s birthday?” He actually laughed. A cold, dismissive sound. “Is Aria whispering poison in your ear again? She’s that jealous? I’m just watching some fireworks with Serena. Does she really have to stoop this low, getting you to lie for her just to drag me back?” His mother was trembling with fury. “You foolish, pig-headed boy! Do you have any idea—” The line went dead. He had hung up on her. A dead silence fell over the room, thick with despair. “It’s over,” someone whispered. “We’re really going to die here.” I stared at the dented door, my heart clenching. Could it be that even with a second chance, I couldn’t change a single thing? In that suffocating silence, his mother looked at me, her eyes hardening with resolve. “I trained that security team myself!” she declared. “There’s a service path up the back of the mountain. I’ll go to them. They won’t disobey a direct order from me! I’ll bring them back!” A flicker of hope ignited in my chest. Without another word, she slipped out a side maintenance hatch. “Wait for me,” was all she said before disappearing into the darkness. An hour later, a jagged hole was torn in the main door. A rotten, skeletal hand snaked through the opening, reaching for the infant in the woman’s arms. The baby’s cry was cut short by a sickening crunch. The mother collapsed, her eyes instantly vacant. As despair washed over us, a figure stumbled back through the side hatch. It was his mother. “Is the team back?” everyone asked at once. She was covered in blood. “Quick! Block the breach!” I rushed to support her. Her voice was a ragged whisper. “That bastard son of mine… He barricaded every path. He set up defenses to make sure no one could interrupt her precious birthday.” Her eyes were red with a furious, helpless rage. A chill crept up my spine, and I stumbled backward. Jason had been so determined to keep me away that he had blocked his own mother. “No! We can’t just give up!” I looked around at the terrified faces. “If we can’t get our own team, we’ll call for outside help!” I scrambled to the emergency comms, frantically cycling through the frequencies for other nearby outposts. I finally got a response and quickly explained our situation, begging for aid. There was a long pause on the other end. “I’m sorry,” the voice finally said. “We can’t send help.” “An hour ago, we received a priority communication from Captain Jason himself. He warned us that someone at your base might be making a false distress call. His direct order was to disregard any and all requests for aid from your location tonight.” He had gone this far. To protect Serena’s birthday party, he had proactively severed every lifeline, calculated every possibility, and sealed our tomb. His mother’s face went white. “This is Jason’s mother. I’m begging you…” “Ma’am,” the voice interrupted, still cold and professional, “the Captain was very specific. He said we should especially disregard any orders coming from you.” “He stated that unless you came to our gates in person to request aid, no assistance would be dispatched.” The line went dead again. In person? A journey of dozens of miles through a sea of the dead? It was a suicide mission. The breach in the door was temporarily patched, but we all knew it was a flimsy fix. I put my arm around his mother. “Mom, I’ll go with you.” I glanced at the fresh pool of blood on the floor, my voice hard as steel. “Everyone here is counting on us. If we stay, we die. If we go, there’s a chance!” She looked at me, a deep, searching gaze, and finally, she nodded. We moved through the darkness, me supporting her as best I could. Her left arm was gone, torn clean off by a zombie. Blood still streamed from the wound. “Just over this ridge… we’re almost there…” she gasped. From halfway up the mountain, we could see the distant lights of the neighboring outpost. Hope surged through us. And then the world exploded. A firework—a military-grade flare—detonated right in front of us. The shockwave threw us violently through the air. Dazed, I looked up toward the summit and saw him. Jason, with his arm around Serena. His mocking voice boomed across the valley from a set of loudspeakers. “Aria. I knew it. When playing the victim didn’t work, you decided to try brute force, didn’t you?” His voice turned to ice. “I knew you wouldn’t give up on ruining Serena’s birthday! I won’t let you succeed!” The explosions intensified, a deadly rain of light and fire. “Mom, you have to tell him it’s you!” I screamed. His mother gathered all her remaining strength and yelled toward the summit. “JASON!” For a moment, there was silence. Then, Jason’s laughter, louder and more maniacal than before, echoed down the mountain. The distance was too great; he could only make out our silhouettes. “Aria, you really will do anything to ruin this for her, won’t you?” he shouted. “First you get my mother to lie for you on the phone, and now you’ve hired an actress? An amputee, no less! Did you really think I’d fall for that?” His mother trembled with rage. “It is me, you fool! It’s your mother! Can’t you even recognize my voice?!” For a split second, I saw a flicker of doubt on Jason’s face. But Serena immediately tugged on his sleeve, her voice trembling with manufactured hurt. “Jason… I know Aria has never liked me. Maybe we should just cancel my birthday. We can go back.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s okay… I’m used to it.” That was all it took. Jason’s face hardened, his rage renewed. “Keep firing!” he commanded. More shells rained down, completely cutting off our path. The moon hung high in the sky, a cold, indifferent witness. “There’s no time,” his mother said, her grip tightening on my shoulder. “I’ll draw their fire. You have to go! You have to get help back to them!” She shoved me away from her. “They’re all waiting for you!” She began to stumble toward the summit. I scrambled after her, grabbing for her remaining arm. “Mom, no! They don’t recognize you! They’ll kill you!” Jason’s voice, colder than the grave, echoed from the peak. “Aria, if you’re so determined to die just to spoil Serena’s night, then I’ll be happy to oblige you!” He shouldered a rocket launcher. The next second, a massive firework shell screamed toward me. “Aria, look out!” His mother threw herself at me, tackling me to the ground and shielding me with her broken body. BOOM! The explosion was deafening, a physical blow that nearly shattered my eardrums. A thick, hot spray of blood covered my face. Her body went limp on top of me. Her back had been blown open, a gaping, cavernous wound. My hands trembled as I reached for her, feeling only the warm, sticky wetness. I shook her gently, but there was no response. A raw, animal cry tore from my throat. “Mom!” Serena’s delicate voice floated down from the speakers. “Aria, you should probably push the body off the cliff. Otherwise, the zombies will smell the blood and come for you, too.” 2 Several of the guards on the summit had witnessed the whole thing, their faces etched with uncertainty. A younger guard leaned toward his friend. “She… she didn’t look like she was faking it.” He hesitated. “What if she was telling the truth? What if something really happened at the base?” His friend cut him off. “Are you crazy? The captain would know if something was wrong. It’s just her, being jealous of Serena again. You know how women get.” But the young guard persisted. “But what if? Our families are down there!” A squad leader stepped in, his voice sharp. “The captain wouldn’t risk our families. End of discussion.” A moment later, I was dragged roughly up to the summit. My body was a mess of cuts and bruises, caked in a mixture of blood and mud. Serena approached, her face a perfect mask of concern. “Oh, Aria, you’re bleeding so much. Here, let me help you.” She reached out to touch me. “Don’t touch me!” I snarled, slapping her hand away with enough force to make her stumble. “Aria!” Jason roared. “Your pettiness knows no bounds! Serena is trying to be kind to you, and this is how you repay her?” He stalked over and stomped on my pinky finger. “It seems you’ll never learn without a little punishment!” A blinding, white-hot pain shot through my entire body. I curled into a ball on the ground, but my own agony was nothing. The people in the safe room… they were still waiting. I forced myself to look up, to meet Jason’s eyes. “Jason,” I said, each word a shard of glass. “The safe room is about to fall. Every minute you waste here, another person dies.” “Don’t you hear them?” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “Don’t you hear the zombies at the walls?” At my words, Serena burst into tears. “Jason, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have had a birthday. I shouldn’t even exist.” He pulled her into a protective embrace, his voice dripping with venom as he glared at me. “How long are you going to keep up this act, Aria? The base has the best defense system on the coast. How could it possibly…” I cut him off, despair turning my voice hollow. “All of your elite guards are here, protecting you and her. All the power for the electric fence has been rerouted here for your light show! Jason, you are going to regret this!” At this, several guards exchanged uneasy glances. “Captain, maybe… maybe we should send someone to check?” the young guard asked tentatively. An older guard beside him scoffed. “You must be new. She pulls stunts like this all the time to get at Miss Serena. This isn’t the first time she’s cried wolf.” “Yeah!” another chimed in. “Remember when she claimed Serena pushed her down the stairs?” Jason’s face grew even darker. “Take her! Tie her to that tree and let her think about what she’s done!” In his arms, a triumphant smirk flickered across Serena’s face. I fought with everything I had left. “Jason, if you don’t go back now, everyone’s families—your family—will be torn apart and eaten alive!” My only answer was a vicious backhand across the face. “The more you do this, Aria,” he hissed, “the more I hate you.” Just as they dragged me toward the tree, it happened. WEEEEEEEEEE— A blood-curdling siren screamed up from the base below. It was the level-one emergency alarm. The fail-safe. It meant the safe room had been breached. No survivors. Everyone froze. The older guard who had been mocking me was the first to react. He stumbled to the edge of the cliff, his eyes wide with horror as he stared down at the base. “The primary alarm… Oh God, the primary alarm! My wife… my little girl… they’re in there!” The young guard’s face was sheet-white, his lips trembling. In the dead silence, I looked at Jason, my voice barely a whisper. “Do you hear that, Jason? They’re all dead.” “This is the fireworks show you bought for Serena with all of their lives. Are you satisfied now?” “Even your own mother, the woman you claimed to respect more than anyone… you killed her, too.”

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I was scrolling through my phone before bed, deep in the digital rabbit hole, when I stumbled across a morbid Reddit post that immediately seized my attention. AITA for wanting to tell my neighbor she’s got a stranger hiding in her apartment? The headline alone had a potent, visceral punch. I couldn’t stop myself from reading on. He’s hiding under her bed tonight. The comments section was already a chaotic mess. Definitely farming karma. This is too wild. Are you posting this from under the bed yourself, bro? Writing out your dream plot points, are we? If this is real, you need to call the cops. Wait, why does he know this? Holy hell, is the girl being stalked? The Original Poster (OP) saw the flood of accusations. Look, y’all need to calm down. Her floor-to-ceiling windows don’t have the curtains closed. I live in the building opposite, and I saw it by accident. Someone challenged him for photo evidence, but before I could scroll to see the proof, my blood ran cold. A sudden, sharp memory. My sheer voile drapes. They were at the dry cleaner. I’d dropped them off this morning. And my apartment, with its entire south-facing wall, was essentially one giant sheet of glass. 1 Just then, a sound abruptly pierced the silence under my bed. I jumped out of my skin, my muscles tensing as if preparing to launch myself into the blankets for cover. Then I realized it was just the charging cord for my phone, snagging the box of tissues on my nightstand and sending it crashing to the floor with a soft thud. I leaned over and picked it up, my hand shaking slightly. I knew I shouldn’t have been reading those messed-up, sensationalist posts before bed. What were the chances? The whole thing was clearly manufactured to go viral. But then, the Reddit post updated. The OP had uploaded an image. It was a picture of an entire residential tower. I squinted at the screen, and a film of cold sweat broke out on my forehead. It was my building. Our community. Our developer used huge, floor-to-ceiling windows to maximize light in the smaller units. My entire living area, from the balcony to the main bedroom, was one continuous expanse of glass. Living alone, I’d chosen not to put a wall between the bedroom and the balcony, so the whole space was one sunny, open concept—which I loved. The photo sent the discussion into a frenzy. I told you that privacy was crap with those windows. No curtains and everything is on display. OP is a total fraud. He’s obviously not shooting from his own floor. Everyone scatter. Probably stole the pic from Zillow. The OP replied, defending himself. I’m not an idiot. I shot this from my place. How many floors up can you count from your vantage point, genius? The math wizards in here are on fire tonight. Fine. To prove I’m legit, here’s a close-up from my window. I’m only showing half. The next image was a blurry, zoomed-in shot of the opposite building. Most windows were covered, their curtains drawn tight. A few were dark. I nearly dropped my phone. I recognized the layout instantly. That was my exact tower. And one of those dark, uncovered windows was mine. I quickly tapped the OP’s profile and checked his IP location. My heart hammered against my ribs. I instinctively slid out of bed and retreated to the living room. The comments under the post had turned frantic. If this is true, you need to call the police, OP. The OP posted again. The neighbor looks like she’s up. She just went into the living room for water. I gripped my phone, trembling. The coincidence was too precise. I was in the living room, standing right next to the water filter. I dared not look at the windows. I couldn’t walk back to the bedroom. As I stood there, frozen, the thread updated again. The reason I posted for advice is that the guy hiding in her apartment doesn’t seem to have any hostile intentions. If I tell her, will he notice and come after me? Or will he just get worse? About three days ago, I first noticed a man pop out in her apartment after she left for work. I thought he was family at first. But they never appear at the same time. And I watch him climb under the bed every day right before she gets home. The comments exploded. This girl is being stalked by a psycho! Some sickos target single women, live in their place, and when they’re bored, they kill them. This is horrifying. Call the cops, OP! Call them now! But if he calls the cops, how long will the creep be locked up? Will he come back and retaliate against the girl? The OP replied. That’s exactly why I posted for help. I’m thinking about all that. Y’all are actually believing this peeping tom? A normal person doesn’t stalk their neighbor. He’s a creep too. That comment spurred an even more intense discussion. OMG, this girl is cursed. Two psychos at once! I’m never living alone again. The OP posted a final update. I’m putting up a poll now. Based on the votes, I’ll decide whether to knock on her door and tell her. A poll button appeared instantly. Knock on her door now Continue to observe I clutched my phone and backed into the bathroom. Please don’t come. He’s a creep, too. Thankfully, the majority of votes were for “Continue to observe.” OP, don’t provoke him. Unless you’re the size of The Rock, don’t risk escalating it. I still think OP is just trying to go viral. Look at all the new followers! The OP replied: Okay, I’ll listen to the consensus. Continue to observe, or maybe tell her during the day. She turned off the light. Maybe I should delete this thread. It feels weird now that everyone’s calling me a stalker. NO, OP! We need updates! You’re the good guy stalker protecting the single girl next door! The light from the phone screen washed over my face. In the reflection, I saw my own expression: perfectly blank. Exposing myself now would put me, a woman, at a severe disadvantage against the intruder. I turned off the phone, cleared my browser history, and walked casually back to bed. I pulled the covers up to my chin. I closed my eyes. Which floor, in the building across the street, was the other creep on? Was he still watching? 2 I woke up the next morning and went to work as normal, terrified of showing even the slightest sign of distress. I was sure the man hiding in the dark would burst out and kill me the second I slipped up. Only once I stepped out the front door did my heart rate begin to slow. On the subway ride to my yoga studio, I called the dry cleaner. They told me my curtains—the material was large and handmade—wouldn’t be ready until the day after tomorrow. I didn’t push them. I just told them to take their time and do a good job. Then, I checked the Reddit thread from last night. The OP had posted an update during the day. The guy under the bed is gone. He actually left the apartment today. The neighbor still hasn’t noticed anything. Should I still say something? The comments section was busy. Oh god, is he scouting his next victim? OP, you need to get evidence and call the police! What good will the police do? She hasn’t lost anything. What’s the charge? Disgusting. The thought of a stranger touching her clothes, smelling her sheets… makes me sick. The discussion didn’t last long. The OP abruptly deleted the entire thread. I frowned, biting my lip. Did he really leave? My subway stop had arrived. I put my phone away. That evening, coming home from work, I saw a young man near the lobby entrance. He was wearing a black hoodie, the hood pulled so low it obscured most of his face. My gut told me he was watching me. But he never approached. I walked into the building, breaking his gaze. After dinner, I did my usual ten minutes of yoga on the balcony. It was essential for my job. Given the lack of curtains, I kept it brief, mindful of the exposure. Before going to sleep, I searched for the deleted thread again. The OP had reposted a new update. He’s back. He’s back. He climbed under the bed again. He seems to be holding something in his hand this time. The neighbor is home. The comment section went into full panic mode. Call the police now! He’s going to make a move! This is like a horror movie! Why are you still posting, OP?! Oh my god, is this girl about to be murdered? I think OP is just fabricating the whole thing. A normal person would have called 911 by now. OP, you need to go check on her. The OP didn’t reply again. I opened the Notes app on my phone and started typing. Then, I quickly got up and went to the living room, settling onto the sofa. I refused to go back to the bedroom. Curled up on the couch, I picked up the thermos from the coffee table, took a sip of water, and felt a wave of crushing drowsiness wash over me. I must have fallen asleep instantly. Before I drifted off, I had one last thought. Please, please don’t let the poster come tonight.

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I slid the signed divorce papers across the table. He picked them up, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “Don’t be upset,” he said, his voice smooth and condescending. “It’s just a formality. As soon as Seraphina’s depression is under control, we’ll remarry immediately.” I kept my head down, refusing to meet his eyes. “What about the compensation you promised me?” He slid a credit card toward me. “You’ve been a good girl. I’m even doubling the reward.” He leaned back, the picture of magnanimity. “Don’t worry. Even after the divorce, you can still live in the house. Nothing will change. I would never abandon you.” A cold, bitter laugh echoed in my mind. I knew exactly what this “fake divorce” was. It was a sham designed to keep me tethered to him, a glorified nanny for our child, while he and Seraphina could finally be together, officially. He wanted a new wife, and he was using this lie to keep me placid and cooperative. But what he would never, ever know… was that I had been dreaming of this divorce for a long time. … I took the card without another word, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out the door. My mother was stunned when I arrived at my parents’ house. “What are you doing here at this hour? Did you two have a fight?” she asked, bustling to help me with my luggage. “Every couple argues. His circumstances are so good, can’t you just learn to put up with it?” I was silent for a moment. “Gaten and I are divorced.” The color drained from her face. “What?! How could you make such a huge decision without even talking to us?” My father chimed in from the living room. “She’s right. Divorce isn’t a game. Do you know how rich he is? Where are you ever going to find another man like that?” I set my suitcase down and turned to face them. They were both frowning, their expressions a perfect mirror of disappointment, as if I were a foolish, disobedient child. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Only tears. “What are you crying for?” My mother’s voice was sharp with impatience. “Just tell us what happened!” I snapped my head up, and the words tore from my throat in a raw scream. “My daughter is dead! My daughter is gone!” The force of the cry buckled my knees. I crumpled to the floor, wrapping my arms around myself as a storm of sobs ripped through me. “What… what did you say?” My mother’s voice was a choked whisper. Seeing their instantly ashen faces felt like another knife twisting in my heart. “We were on vacation,” I gasped between sobs, “on a private island.” “Lily suddenly clutched her chest, said it hurt, that she couldn’t breathe. I knew right away—it was her congenital heart condition.” “But there was only one doctor on the entire island!” “I looked everywhere for Gaten, I called him over and over, begging him to get the doctor. But him?” The memory of that day flooded back, as sharp and cruel as it was in the moment. “He didn’t answer my calls. Seraphina’s son, his dog had fallen into the pool and swallowed some water.” “She made one call to Gaten, and he immediately sent the island’s only doctor away… to perform CPR on a dog.” My father shot to his feet, his eyes bloodshot with rage. “How could he just abandon his own daughter?” “I begged him, but it was useless!” My voice rose to a hysterical shriek. “I couldn’t reach him, the doctor never came, and I just held her… I held my daughter and watched the life leave her body right there in my arms…” I couldn’t go on. I curled into a ball on the floor, my body trembling uncontrollably. My mind was a roaring storm of memories, images from the past bubbling up, chaotic and cruel. I was seventeen, a top student from a desperately poor family. I was the pride of my school, but I spent my lunches eating dry bread in a classroom with no heat, my hands often too cold to even hold a pen. Then one day, my principal called me into his office. A wealthy entrepreneur wanted to sponsor a student in need. He had chosen me. The first time I saw Gaten Thorne, he was standing in the principal’s office. He wore a black overcoat, tall and imposing, his eyes slightly downcast when he looked at me. “Nancy Heaton?” His voice was deep and smooth. “I’ve decided to sponsor you through the completion of all your studies. From now on, I will cover all your expenses.” “All you need to do is focus on your education. You don’t have to worry about anything else.” Just like that. A monthly deposit started appearing in my bank account, enough for food, books, and even medicine for my grandmother. The year I was preparing for my college entrance exams, his assistant came to my school with imported snacks and nutritional supplements. “Mr. Thorne asked me to bring these. He said to take care of your health.” The night before the exams, I was too nervous to sleep. My phone lit up. It was a text from him, wishing me luck. I clutched the phone to my chest and cried. He was the only light in my gray, colorless life. I knew he had someone else, the one that got away. Her name was Seraphina. She was from a family that was his equal, and they had grown up together. I’d seen pictures of them in magazines—the perfect, beautiful couple. I buried my own hopeless crush so deep it could never see the light of day. In my second year of college, I heard Seraphina had married a foreign tycoon. On a whim, I sent him a text. Mr. Thorne, are you okay? It took him a long time to reply. Why wouldn’t I be? Focus on your studies. His tone was unreadable. Two months later, he was in my city on business and asked me to dinner. Afterward, he drove me back to my dorm. He didn’t immediately tell me to get out. The night air was cool. “Nancy,” he said, turning to look at me. “Marry me.” My mind went completely blank. I never, ever imagined he would propose to me. “I… I’m not worthy of you.” “It’s not a question of being worthy.” His voice was calm, leaving no room for refusal. “I’ve always liked you. You’re quiet, you know your place. Marry me. I’ll be good to you.” My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to break free. The light I had worshipped from afar for so many years was now offering to shine on me. I nodded, my voice trembling. “Okay.” Our wedding was a grand affair. I wore a dress worth a fortune, but I felt like a wooden doll, completely out of place. His family was polite but distant. The first time my parents met his mother was just before the wedding. My parents wore their best, most respectable clothes, but they were so nervous they didn’t know what to do with their hands. His mother smiled, her eyes flicking over their frayed, faded collars. She didn’t say anything. But that night, I passed by the study and heard her talking to Gaten. “From such a common family. They’ll never have any class. If it weren’t for Seraphina… you never would have had to stoop to this level.” Gaten didn’t respond. I pretended I hadn’t heard a thing. After we were married, he was incredibly generous. He gave me a black card with no limit, a mansion to live in, a driver and maids to see to my every need. It was a life I could never have imagined. But I always felt like a guest. I couldn’t contribute to the conversations in their social circle. They talked about equestrian sports, art auctions, and financial terms I didn’t understand. I could only stand by and smile. Once, at a gala, someone asked me, “Mrs. Thorne, what are your hobbies?” I opened my mouth, but my mind was a void. Was I supposed to say I loved reading, or helping my grandmother on the farm? Gaten wrapped an arm around my shoulder and smiled faintly. “She’s rather introverted. She prefers to stay home.” The person gave a knowing, slightly pitying “Oh.” After that, I made a point of shrinking into the corners at those events, trying to be invisible. It wasn’t for lack of trying. I took classes in flower arranging and tea ceremonies, desperate to fit into his world. But his mother could shatter my confidence with a single sentence. “A pale imitation,” she’d sniff. Gaten would just frown and say, “Mom, that’s enough.” That was all. I kept telling myself it was okay, that he loved me. He remembered my birthday and sent extravagant gifts, though he never stayed to watch me blow out the candles. He’d send the driver to pick me up when it rained, though he never came himself. I was guarding a beautiful, empty box, telling myself it was full of treasure. The day our daughter was born, he did come to the hospital. He held the baby, a flicker of novelty on his face at being a new father. His mother glanced at the baby and sniffed. “Just a girl.” Our daughter, Lily, grew up to be a sweet child. Almost too sweet. In that grand, cold house, she learned to read the moods of everyone around her. The day Seraphina came back, divorced and with her son in tow, I was in the garden with Lily, playing with blocks. Gaten’s mother was ecstatic, rushing out to greet them, cooing over Seraphina’s son, Leo, as if he were a prince. She took Seraphina’s hand, her eyes full of adoration. “Oh, just look at you. This is what a Thorne daughter-in-law should look like! If only you had…” She trailed off, but everyone knew what she meant. Leo was a few months older than Lily and spoiled rotten. He snatched Lily’s doll and pushed her to the ground. Lily picked herself up, dusted off her dress, and offered him her other doll. “You can have this one too, big brother. Please don’t push me, okay?” It felt like a needle in my heart. That night, I said to Gaten, “Could you talk to Leo? He’s always bullying Lily.” He was leaning against the headboard, reading a report. He didn’t even look up. “It’s normal for kids to squabble. You’re too sensitive.” “But Lily, she…” “Enough,” he cut me off. “Seraphina just got back, she’s in a fragile state. My mother asked me to take extra care of them. Can’t you be a little more understanding?” I looked at his cold, indifferent profile and swallowed the rest of my words. It only got worse. Lily fell and scraped her knee, crying her eyes out. Leo stood beside her, clapping and laughing. Gaten came home from work at that moment, and Lily held out her arms, wanting her daddy to pick her up. Instead, he ruffled Leo’s hair first. “What are you doing, little man, teasing your sister?” he asked, his tone playful. Only then did he look at Lily. “It’s just a little fall. Don’t be so dramatic.” Lily’s outstretched arms slowly fell to her sides. She looked down, wiped her own tears, and whispered, “It doesn’t hurt, Daddy.” She never asked him to hold her again. That is how my heart slowly turned to stone. Until the vacation. Until my daughter clutched her tiny chest, her face turning blue, and died in my arms.

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It was the annual company barbecue. I took a bite of the vegetable salad, drenched in some kind of creamy dressing. A second later, my lips started to tingle. My throat swelled shut, and I couldn’t breathe. Realizing it was an allergic reaction, I shoved my phone at my boyfriend, Liam. “Call 911.” Liam took the phone. He unlocked it, then handed it to his intern, Mia. “You do it. My hands are shaking.” Mia took the phone and swiped across the screen a few times. A moment passed. She sent a link to a handbag to Liam. “Liam, what do you think of this one?” By now, I couldn’t speak at all, only a choked, gurgling sound escaping my throat. Liam studied the picture of the bag intently. “The color’s not right for you.” He took the phone back and opened the camera, pointing it at my swollen, disfigured face. Mia leaned in for a look. “Liam, stop. Rachel doesn’t look good like this.” 1 With Mia’s words, Liam put his phone away, his brow furrowed in annoyance as he looked at me. “Rachel, did you just eat something bad?” he snapped, impatience lacing his voice. “Don’t scare Mia. You know how sensitive she is.” I shook my head frantically, forcing a ragged hiss of air from my constricted throat. I raised a hand, pointing desperately at my backpack. My life-saving medicine was in there. My EpiPen. Liam completely misunderstood. His expression soured. “What the hell are you trying to do?” he demanded. “Can’t you just use your words? What’s with all the pointing?” Our colleagues started to gather around us, murmuring and pointing. “Hey, what’s wrong with Rachel?” “Her face is swollen up like a balloon. Is it an allergic reaction?” “God, that looks terrifying.” Amid the chatter, Mia suddenly burst into tears with a loud “wah.” She threw herself into Liam’s arms, her shoulders shaking. “Liam, did I do something wrong?” she sobbed. “Is Rachel mad because I was showing you that bag? Does she think I was trying to stop you from calling for help?” Liam immediately wrapped his arms around her, patting her back soothingly. “It’s not your fault, Mia,” he murmured. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He turned to glare at me, his eyes filled with resentment. “She’s just throwing another one of her princess tantrums, trying to make everyone pay attention to her. Just ignore her. We’re not getting involved.” Black spots danced in my vision as my consciousness began to fade. With the last ounce of my strength, I crawled toward my backpack. My fingertips were just about to touch the zipper when a polished leather shoe stomped down hard on the back of my hand. Pain shot up my arm, but I couldn’t even scream. He loomed over me, his voice dripping with contempt. “Rachel, have you made enough of a scene? Are you happy now that the whole company is laughing at you?” From behind him, Mia peeked out, tears still glistening on her cheeks, but her eyes held a triumphant, vicious glint. She leaned closer, her voice a soft whisper only the three of us could hear. “Rachel, did you like the peanut sauce? I went to three different stores to find that special extra-rich blend, just for you.” My world narrowed to a pinpoint. I forced my other hand up, pointing a trembling finger at Mia’s innocent-looking face, trying to show Liam the truth. Seeing my gesture, Liam’s face darkened. He shoved me away forcefully. “Now you’re trying to hit her? Rachel, stop bullying Mia! She’s timid, don’t you dare scare her!” The surrounding colleagues immediately jumped to his defense, their words a torrent of condemnation. “Yeah, Rachel, you’re going way too far.” “Mia’s just a new intern. She’s so sweet and fragile, how could you be so mean to her?” “Liam, your girlfriend has a serious attitude problem. You really need to get her under control.” My breathing grew faint, my vision blurring into a meaningless smear of color. I had been with Liam for two years. He always thought I was just an ordinary girl. Today’s barbecue was supposed to be my final test for him before I decided to marry him. Through the last slivers of light, I saw Liam holding a weeping Mia, gently wiping the tears from her face. Finally, someone in the crowd noticed something was truly wrong. “I think she’s really in trouble! Look, her lips are turning blue!” “Quick! Someone call an ambulance!” In the ensuing chaos, someone finally remembered to dial 911. I collapsed onto the ground, my body beginning to convulse uncontrollably. As all eyes were on me, Mia subtly hooked my backpack with the tip of her foot, sending it sliding several feet away. My life-saving EpiPen rolled out, landing right underneath the scorching hot grill. No one noticed. Liam crouched down, patting my bloated cheek with a show of false concern, his voice sharp with irritation. “Rachel, stop faking it. It’s getting old. The ambulance is on its way, what more do you want? Everyone’s watching. If you keep this up, I’m going to get really angry.” My consciousness sank into an endless darkness. In the distance, I could hear the faint wail of a siren growing closer. Liam was still cooing at the girl in his arms, his voice dripping with affection. “Don’t be scared. She’s fine. She just loves to make a big deal out of nothing.” 2 “Patient is in critical condition! Move! Make way!” “Where’s the family? We need someone to ride with us to the hospital!” The paramedics’ voices echoed around me. I felt myself being lifted onto a stretcher by a flurry of hands. Liam raised his hand slightly. “I’m her boyfriend. We’ll go with you.” But the moment he climbed into the ambulance, he sat down next to Mia, not even sparing me a single glance. He pulled the still-sniffling girl into his arms, letting her rest her head against his chest. Mia trembled in his embrace. “Liam, I’m so scared,” she whimpered. “Rachel… is she going to die? If she dies, is it all my fault? Will the police arrest me?” Liam stroked her back, his brow creased with concern. “Don’t be ridiculous. It has nothing to do with you,” he said, his tone firm. “It’s her own fault for having such a weak constitution. Always having some reaction. Who even knows what she’s allergic to? She’s always so damn dramatic.” A paramedic, busy fitting an oxygen mask over my face, turned to ask Liam, “Does the patient have a history of allergies? Was she exposed to anything unusual?” Without looking up, Liam kept his eyes fixed on Mia. “I don’t know. I’m not really sure. She’s usually perfectly healthy. Nothing like this has ever happened before.” I struggled to open my mouth, to tell the doctor it was peanuts. He knew. He always knew I was allergic to peanuts. A memory surfaced—a company dinner from when we first started dating. A plate of Kung Pao chicken was set in front of me. He had meticulously picked out every single peanut with his chopsticks. “My Rachel could die from eating peanuts,” he’d said to everyone at the table. “I have to watch out for her.” A sharp-eyed nurse noticed my distress. She quickly grabbed my dirt-smudged backpack and started rummaging through it. In a moment, she pulled out a medical information card. “Found it! Severe peanut allergy!” She looked up, her voice sharp as she questioned Liam. “If it’s a severe allergy, why wasn’t her emergency medication used? Her bag should contain an adrenaline auto-injector!” Liam finally glanced over, his expression one of pure, innocent confusion. “What medication? What injector? I don’t know anything about that. She never told me.” Mia immediately lifted her head from his chest, rushing to explain. “Rachel was pointing at her bag earlier. I thought she wanted a tissue or something. I had no idea it was for medicine.” As she spoke, fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s all my fault. I honestly didn’t know it was life-saving medicine, or I would have gotten it for her right away.” Liam instantly defended her. “How could you be blamed? We’re not doctors. How were we supposed to know? Don’t cry, Mia. You’re not as pretty when you cry.” The ambulance sped through the city. I could feel my life slipping away. And my boyfriend, not six feet from me, had pulled out his phone. He was scrolling through funny short videos, holding the screen up for Mia. “Look at this one. This cat is so dumb. Isn’t that hilarious?” The paramedics were inserting an IV, pushing antihistamines into my veins. And my boyfriend was whispering sweet nothings to another woman. Just then, Mia suddenly stood up, swaying with the motion of the vehicle. “Oops, I was just going to grab a bottle of water.” She stretched out her arm, pretending to reach for a water bottle in the corner. As the ambulance braked suddenly, she lost her balance, and her hand slammed hard against my oxygen mask. The mask flew off, landing beside me. My already shallow breathing stopped completely. The monitor beside me shrieked as my oxygen saturation plummeted. “What are you doing?!” the nurse screamed, shoving Mia away as she scrambled to replace my mask. Mia covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide with feigned horror. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to! The ride is so bumpy, I just lost my footing.” Liam pulled her back into his arms. “It’s okay, don’t be scared. It wasn’t your fault.” He turned to the nurse. “It was a bumpy ride, that’s all. Why are you yelling at her?” The nurse was so furious at his attitude that she was speechless, managing only to shoot them a venomous glare. “Both of you sit down and don’t move again!” The ambulance finally arrived at the hospital. I was wheeled rapidly into the emergency room. Just as the doors swung shut, I heard Mia rub her stomach and say in a delicate voice, “Liam, all that stress made me hungry. My tummy’s rumbling.” Liam immediately pulled out his phone. “What do you want? Hot pot? Barbecue? I’ll order us something right now.” 3 “The patient has severe laryngeal edema, her airway is closing! We need to perform an emergency tracheotomy, now!” “Another few minutes and she could suffer irreversible brain damage, or even die! We need a signature from the family, right now!” A doctor burst out of the ER, holding a critical condition notice and a surgical consent form. Liam casually took the pen but made no move to sign. He scanned the papers over and over before finally looking up at the doctor. “Doctor, I have a question about this procedure…” he began slowly. “Will… will it leave a scar on her neck? Are you even her boyfriend?” The doctor stared at him in disbelief. “Sir, your girlfriend is on the verge of death! This is about saving her life! And you’re worried about a scar?” Beside him, Mia tugged on Liam’s sleeve, whispering, “Liam, you know how much Rachel cares about her appearance. If she wakes up with an ugly scar on her neck, she’ll never forgive you. She might even get depressed.” Liam’s expression became even more conflicted. He twirled the pen in his fingers, refusing to sign. “Well… is there a way to do it without leaving a scar? Maybe use better medicine, or some imported technique? Can we get the best surgeon available? Money is not an issue. We’ll pay whatever it costs.” The doctor’s temples throbbed with frustration. “Do you think this is a supermarket where you can pick and choose? I’m telling you, every second we waste is a second closer to her death! Every delay increases the damage to her brain! Now sign the damn form!” I was being wheeled out of the ER, on my way to the operating room. Through the crack in the door as it closed, I could see Liam still arguing with the doctor. A few passing nurses couldn’t stand it anymore and gathered around to confront him. “What is wrong with you? Are you insane?” “Your girlfriend is dying and you’re hung up on a scar?” “Seriously, which is more important, a scar or her life? Are you really her boyfriend?” Faced with the accusations, Mia spread her arms to shield Liam. Her eyes were red as she pleaded with the nurses. “Please, don’t blame Liam. He just loves Rachel so much that he’s not thinking straight. He’s just trying to consider what’s best for her in the long run.” She turned back to Liam, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Liam, I trust you. I know that every decision you make is for Rachel’s own good. Don’t listen to them. Just do what you think is right.” Her words were like a shot of adrenaline to his ego. He stood up straighter. He looked the doctor dead in the eye. “I need more time to consider this. As doctors, you have a responsibility to guarantee a perfect outcome, with no side effects. That includes scarring! Otherwise, I am not signing anything.” The doctor was too enraged to waste another breath on him. He spun around and yelled to the nurse behind him. “We’re out of time! Call the department head immediately! Request an emergency authorization! Go! Go! Go!” The doors to the surgical wing slammed shut, cutting off the noise from the hallway. Outside, Liam was loudly defending himself. “I’m doing this for her own good! I’m being responsible!” Mia patted his back, comforting him. “Liam, don’t be angry. They don’t understand how deeply you care. But I do. You’re the best boyfriend in the world.” Liam nodded, his face filled with gratitude. “You’re the only one who gets me.” He pulled out his phone and checked his food order. “Come on. Our milk tea should be here. Let’s go wait by the entrance.” 4 “Patient’s blood pressure is dropping!” “Cardiac arrhythmia detected! Get the defibrillator ready!” “Increase the epinephrine drip!” Inside the operating room, it was controlled chaos. I could feel my body growing cold. Outside the closed doors, Mia was leaning on Liam’s shoulder, sipping her milk tea and pouting. “Liam, I’m suddenly craving crawfish. The spicy kind. Like, really, really spicy.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Liam opened a food delivery app and ordered a fifty-dollar deluxe spicy crawfish platter. While they waited for the food to arrive, he even found the energy to discuss a new project at work with Mia, strategizing how to present it to senior management to maximize his own credit. A passing head nurse saw them and walked over, frowning. “Sir, this is an emergency area. There is a patient fighting for her life in there. We need the family to remain quiet.” Liam looked up, annoyed. “Were we being loud? Are we interrupting you from saving the world?” The nurse, stunned by his brazen attitude, could only shake her head and walk away. The food arrived quickly. Liam took the bag and opened the containers on the bench right outside the ER doors. The fiery, aromatic scent of chili and garlic instantly filled the sterile corridor. Mia clapped her hands in delight at the sight of the bright red crawfish, then her lip jutted out. “But I don’t want to peel them myself. I just got my nails done. What if they get dirty? And my hands will smell.” Liam pulled on a pair of disposable gloves. “I’ll peel them for you.” A moment later, a perfectly shelled, plump piece of tail meat was pinched between his fingers. “Here, Mia. Open up. Ahhh—” Mia ate it in one bite. “Liam, you’re the best!” This was the scene that greeted Director Evans as he rushed down the hallway, several grim-faced department heads trailing behind him. His sheer presence silenced the entire corridor. Director Evans stopped directly in front of Liam. His voice was ice. “Move.” Liam, about to peel a second crawfish, looked up in confusion. “Who are you? Can’t you see we’re eating?” Director Evans glanced at the takeout containers on the floor, and his face turned to stone. Without another word, he shoved open the doors to the operating room and strode inside. The doctors inside looked up and saw him as if he were a savior. “Director Evans! What are you doing here?” Director Evans scanned the monitors, then looked at my condition on the operating table. His voice trembled with a rage so profound it was almost silent. “This is… this is Rachel Vance! From Helios Global!” “What in God’s name are you people doing! Why isn’t she on a heart-lung machine? Who approved this conservative treatment plan!” The operating room fell into a dead silence. Outside, Liam and Mia, who had been about to complain, froze, their expressions locked in place. Helios Global. Rachel Vance. The two names combined like a bolt of lightning, striking them right between the eyes. The crawfish in Liam’s hand fell to the floor with a soft splat.

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I’m nearsighted. I went to the convenience store where Jax worked part-time to buy some gum and accidentally grabbed a box of condoms instead. “Three boxes?” The hand he was using to ring me up paused. His lips curved into a half-smirk. I shot back, full of righteous indignation, “Don’t worry about it. They’ll all get used.” … And they were. All in one night. 1 I have high myopia, severe astigmatism, and congenital night blindness. If I take my glasses off, I can’t see people’s mouths move, which actually affects my ability to hear them. When I can’t see, I get frustrated. When I get frustrated, I frown. Add to that my fast-paced, distracted way of walking, and I completely miss classmates who give me a small wave in the hallway. Over time, thanks to my menacing expression and terrible eyesight, I’ve managed to single-handedly avoid ninety-nine percent of all social interaction. By the time I realized what was happening, I had already been branded the “gloomy guy.” Even when I tried to explain, people would either look right through me or actively dodge me. One time, I finally worked up the nerve to apologize to someone I’d accidentally ignored, only to realize I’d cornered a kid from the class next door. After I finished my mumbled apology, he just stared at me, bewildered, then waved his hands frantically and backed away like he’d seen a ghost. As I walked past the classroom door, I heard him complaining to his friend: “Dude, that was so creepy! I was just walking, and this cold-looking glasses kid suddenly blocks my path. His eyes were darting around behind me, and he had this super weird grin while he was apologizing for not recognizing me earlier. I’ve never even seen him before! It totally freaked me out.” “Ew, get away from me. You sure you’re not haunted or something?” “Shut up!” … For the record, I’m just a guy who can’t make eye contact. Psychic abilities are currently beyond my skill set. 2 It’s been a nightmare. Every attempt I make at being social just makes me seem even weirder to everyone else. A string of blunders has cemented my status as the campus freak: I once mistook a sack on the ground for a fainted student and tried to help it up. During P.E., I lined up with the trash cans. I’ve even lectured a traffic cone about the dangers of standing in the middle of the road. Everyone gives me a wide berth, retreating to a safe distance before turning to whisper about my “fascinating mental state.” The only exception is Jax. “LEO WHITE—!” He’d bounce and holler like one of those pop-up ads you can never close, starting his sprint from two hundred yards away. He’d make an impossible amount of noise the entire way, finally getting right in my face to say hi. “Finally found you! We’ve got the fitness test next period. Let’s be partners, yeah?” Jax had a death grip on my sleeve, making it clear he wouldn’t let go until I agreed. His grin was goofy, like a golden retriever’s. I thought about it for zero seconds. “No.” It was a ridiculous request. I rejected it outright. Was he kidding? The two of us together would look like a blaring trumpet dragging along a silent, despairing cello. The optics were just too bizarre. Besides, we barely knew each other. I figured he’d back off after being rejected. But no. Jax’s approach to social interaction is basically a home invasion. The idea that a minor setback could stop him from making his presence known was pure fantasy. For the next few days, I constantly felt a pair of eyes on me. When I ate, he spied on me. When I left class, he tailed me. When I was in the library, I’d find him sitting directly across from me. I even saw him lurking near the dumpsters when I was taking out the trash. It wasn’t that he was clueless; he was deliberately trying to get my attention, eagerly waiting for me to give him a disgusted look. He seemed to get a kick out of it. Finally, I snapped. “Hey, what the hell do you want?” He showed no shame at being caught, just grinned. “I want to apologize.” “?” “At first, I saw you walking around with that ‘I hate the world’ look on your face, ignoring everyone, so I told my friends you were just a pretentious prick. Ahem, sorry about that,” Jax said, scratching his cheek, completely unembarrassed by his ill-timed epiphany. “But I’ve noticed you’re like that with everyone. You’re not arrogant, you’re just blind.” I felt my fist clench. 3 Even with a bruised face, Jax was relentless, buzzing around me like a hyperactive fly. He was unbelievably loud. With his face a canvas of black and blue, he declared his mission was to make my life more “colorful.” During lunch break, the door to the rooftop was kicked open with a bang. I turned, and unsurprisingly, there was Jax, strolling in like he owned the place. “Whoa, so this is where you hide out! Nice spot. I was wondering why I never saw you in the cafeteria,” he said, clicking his tongue. Then, faster than I could react, he snatched my lunchbox. “Chewing on a few leaves is so boring. Eat enough of that, and you’ll be mooing your way back to the pasture. Let’s trade.” Before I could process what was happening, a container of braised pork appeared in my left hand, and another with sweet and sour ribs in my right. Then he looked around, and, as if making an offering, lined up a row of rice balls in front of me. “Eating with a view. This is the life,” Jax said, plopping down beside me and digging into my salad without a hint of shame. How can someone have such a complete lack of personal boundaries? I was furious. “I thought you said it was just leaves? Why are you eating it?” “I have pica,” he said without looking up. I couldn’t win. Frustrated, I stared down at the ridiculously lavish lunch in front of me. The rice balls were different flavors, and he had even warmed them all up. I understood, of course. He wouldn’t have known I was missing from the cafeteria if he hadn’t been specifically looking for me. It’s just… I was used to sharp-edged malice. I didn’t know how to deal with this unexpected sweetness. With a complicated swirl of emotions, I picked up a piece of pork and chewed it slowly. Out of the corner of my eye, I could almost see a non-existent tail wagging happily. After that, Jax showed up on the rooftop every day at noon, uninvited, loud, and carrying bags of food, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 4 Jax’s original goal may have been to apologize, but you don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Besides, I wasn’t angry with him anymore. I just figured he was missing a screw, a guy who said whatever was on his mind, even spouting childish insults right to your face. At least he was honest, which was better than people who sulked and made you guess what was wrong. Once I’d made peace with that, I turned to him during lunch one day. “Is there anything you need my help with?” A second ago, Jax had been complaining about how the temperature was dropping so fast it was like a bad DJ was scratching on the thermometer. My question shut him up instantly, a look of utter confusion on his face. “What’s that all about? Why the sudden offer? Are you serious?” “Of course, I’m serious. Friends should help each other out,” I said, gesturing to all the food he’d brought. “It can’t just be you giving all the time. You’re not a dog…” My words were cut off by his goofy laugh. “Heh heh. Friends. Heh heh.” Was that really the most important part of what I said? I was speechless. The steam from the food was fogging up my glasses. I decided to wipe them clean and ask him again. But as soon as I took them off, Jax’s hand shot up without warning and knocked them right out of my grasp. My glasses sailed through the air in a graceful, tragic arc before shattering on the concrete. After a moment of stunned silence, I cracked my knuckles, a serene, murderous smile on my face. “You had better have a very good explanation for this.” “It was an accident, I swear,” Jax wailed, shrinking back, his voice trembling. “I was just reaching for a rice ball.” 5 Jax is my personal curse. I came to this conclusion within three minutes of losing my glasses. He’d crashed into my life like a human beagle, yapping and destroying everything in his path. Without my glasses, the world was a featureless blur. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him as close as I could, but I still couldn’t make out his face. “Jax, when you were a baby, did you pick a power drill as your first toy? How else do you explain this level of destructive force?” “Thanks.” “That wasn’t a compliment!” I seethed. “I don’t have a spare pair. I can’t even see the ground in front of me. Maybe instead of the stairs or the elevator, we should just try free-falling on the way down.” “I’m sorry, but can you let go of me first?” That’s when I noticed the tips of his ears were bright red. Jax covered his face with his hands. “Too… too close.” Then he bolted, leaving me alone on the rooftop to face the cold, lonely wind. A few minutes later, he came back, muttering something about helping me down the stairs. BRRRING— The school bell shrieked. We were definitely going to be late. Jax was consumed by guilt. He couldn’t even look at me, just stared at the ground as he hurried along. In his haste, he tripped over his own feet, nearly sending both of us tumbling. “Are you trying to help me or kill me? Let go!” A vein throbbed in my temple. I gave up on my useless human crutch and felt my own way down the stairs, one hand on the railing. 6 Years later, someone asked how Jax and I became friends. After all, we were polar opposites, the perfect embodiment of “the chaotic one and the grumpy one.” When I heard the question, I just smiled faintly. It looked like serene acceptance, but in reality, I’d just run out of options. From the very beginning of our friendship, I could have written a book: The Art of Putting Up With People. 7 Because we were late, we ended up standing side-by-side as punishment outside the classroom. I had my spare glasses on now, so I could clearly see Jax sneaking glances at me, looking like a guilty puppy. My slightest movement made him flinch, bracing for a hit. I sighed in exasperation and looked out the window. The sunlight was so fierce it seemed to bleach the world white. Cicadas, summer’s most fervent disciples, shrieked without pause. The only relief was the breeze that snaked its way into the collar of our uniforms. Ivy crept up the red brick wall of the building across the way. When the wind blew, the leaves fluttered, making it look like a giant, furry creature breathing softly. As the light shifted, the leaves broke apart into a thousand tiny shields, as if the creature were shaking its scales. The vibrant colors were dazzling. I was so captivated that I forgot why I was standing there in the first place. I’d always rushed through the hallways, trying to avoid eye contact, never once noticing the view outside, even though I saw it every day. In a way, being late was a blessing in disguise. A small smile touched my lips. I’ve gotten so used to bad luck that I can even talk myself into seeing the bright side of things like this. “Leo?” Jax whispered, his head still bowed. “Hm?” “It’s all my fault. I’m so clumsy,” he said, tugging on my sleeve, his voice thick with unshed tears. “I’ll pay for your glasses, I promise. Just… please don’t ignore me, okay?” “It’s fine. I’m not mad.” “Really? But you were just smiling in this really scary way. Like you were already planning my burial.” … I should just hit him. 8 To show how sorry he was, Jax invited me to his “secret base.” “Come on, come on! I promise you won’t be disappointed!” For someone whose life revolved around a boring two-point routine between home and school, the offer was undeniably tempting. Dad was on the night shift, so no one would notice if I got home a little late. After a moment’s thought, I agreed. “Yes!” Jax beamed, a five-fingered handprint still visible on his cheek. He started humming a tuneless little song, skipping ahead of me, his shirt catching the wind. A warm halo of light surrounded his head, and dappled shadows danced at his feet. The sun was setting, painting the distant sky with a rose-colored veil. I followed him in silence for a long time. “We’re here.” We passed through a crooked wooden fence. I looked where he was pointing, and the scenery changed in an instant. It was a garden overflowing with roses, so vibrant it looked as if the sunset itself had descended to embrace the earth. Soft colors swirled and stretched in a gentle, unhurried dance. The flowers seemed to hold hands, weaving together a delicate dream. “Whenever I’m feeling down, I come here to plant flowers,” he said, uncharacteristically shy. “I planted the first one when I was in elementary school. It was Arbor Day, and the teacher said we could all plant something at school. I was so excited.” “And then what happened?” “I forgot my uniform sash, and I was too scared to go in. I just stood at the gate, holding my little flower, while all the other kids were laughing and having fun on the other side of the wall. I felt so left out that I just started crying and ran away. I ended up here somehow. When I was done crying, I realized it was a pretty good spot for a flower. So I dug a hole with my bare hands and got mud all over my face.” “Hahahaha!” I pictured a tiny, miserable version of Jax, planting a flower with tears streaming down his muddy cheeks. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Whoa, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh,” Jax said, blinking at me. “You probably don’t realize it, but you never actually laugh out loud.” I froze. He was right. Since my brother died, I rarely smiled, let alone laughed. I knew I was gloomy and boring, completely unlikable. Sometimes, when I tried to get closer to people, my expression would be so stiff it looked like I was trying to start a fight. Social failure made me avoid people even more. Less interaction made me more nervous for the next attempt, which would inevitably go worse. It was a vicious cycle. Jax’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Look up, Leo.” Twilight had fallen. In the darkness, his eyes were still shining. “It’s a full moon.” I looked up. The moonlight was fragrant and serene. It was probably just me, but for a moment, I imagined the moon was a spotlight, and Jax and I were the only two people on stage. Bathed in the beauty of the night, the self-pity that had filled my mind just moments ago seemed to melt away. It was magical. I took off my glasses. I could feel an intense gaze on me. Jax was staring at my face. “I have a bad astigmatism,” I explained. “The moon actually looks bigger without them.” “Oh, r-right,” he stammered. “You, uh, you should look at the moon. Not at me.” I had no idea what was going on, but I did as he said. I was too young then to understand: The eyes will always betray the heart’s deepest secrets.

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My husband and I turned the entire house upside down looking for that new little toy we’d bought. It was nowhere to be found. My live stream was about to start, so I had to give up and head to my studio. But no sooner had I walked through the door than my phone buzzed with a notification from the toy’s app: 【Rolling Heatwave Mode has been activated.】 Did Ethan find it? I wondered. I shot him a video call, but he was still half-asleep, mumbling drowsily from our bed. I was too embarrassed to ask, so I just told myself it was probably a glitch with the toy. Shaking it off, I started my stream. But right when I was deep in a chat with my followers, my phone lit up again. Same app. 【Passion Burst Mode has been activated.】 My mind went into overdrive. I was here. My husband was asleep at home. So who was it? Who was using my things?! 1 A chill shot up my spine. My phone buzzed one last time: 【Your ‘Wicked Wanda’ is operating at high intensity. Battery level is critical at 7%.】 My mind flashed through all the blush-worthy pre-set modes. Was this a system bug, or… I ended the stream right then and there, floored the gas, and raced home. Was I really about to become the subject of the kind of gossip I usually just read about online? I burst into the bedroom. It was pitch black, and Ethan was still snoring peacefully. I immediately checked the entry log on our smart lock. No one had entered or left. My frayed nerves eased slightly. On the drive home, I’d already decided: if he had cheated on me, I’d kick him out on the spot. I calmed myself down and checked the toy’s app again. It showed the device was active within a six-foot radius of my phone. Six feet?! But I searched every inch of that area and found nothing. And there was no sign of anyone else having been in the house. I was so frustrated I wanted to smash my phone. I couldn’t sleep all night. The toy had been active just moments ago, so how could it have just vanished into thin air? The incident left me deeply unsettled. A few days later, I decided to surprise Ethan by coming home during my usual streaming time. He wasn’t there. I video-called him. He rejected it. A moment later, a text came through. 【Almost home, babe. I have a surprise for you.】 Sitting in the living room, my mind couldn’t help but replay that strange night. Anger simmered in my gut. When he got here, I was going to demand some answers. He walked in, saw me on the couch, and wrapped his arms around me. “Babe, what are you doing home so early?” I didn’t return the hug. “Where were you?” I asked, my voice flat. He chuckled and pulled a small card from his pocket with a flourish. “Surprise, honey! Happy?” In his hand was an autographed photo of my all-time favorite basketball player, Jaden Cross. I’d been so busy lately that I’d completely forgotten his team was in town for an exhibition game. I’d also forgotten it was my birthday. Seeing the signature, most of my anger melted away. I couldn’t believe he’d gone all the way to the game just for this. The tension broke, and my eyes instantly welled up with tears. I felt a pang of guilt for ever doubting him. I hugged him tightly, apologizing for my cold attitude. He stroked my hair. “A husband should always be there for his wife, support her career, and even stand in line for autographs for her.” A wave of pure joy washed over me. How could a man who loved me this much ever betray me? 2. The next few days were peaceful. But just in case, I set up a small security camera in the living room, telling Ethan it was to keep an eye on our dog, Mochi. Today, the broadcast of the game was released, and I posted a picture of the autographed photo on my social media. 【Finally got my idol’s autograph! A dream come true! So happy!】 The post drew a lot of comments and likes from basketball fans. Then, one comment was pushed to the top. 【You’re a fake fan. You bought that on eBay.】 I replied instantly: “I did not! And I’m not a fake fan!” I even posted photos of my ticket stubs from games I’d attended over the past ten years. The comment section turned into a warzone between my defenders and those accusing me of clout-chasing. A few minutes later, the same account posted a screenshot of a redacted eBay transaction, hammering the final nail in my coffin. The autograph sold by that eBay seller was identical to the one I was holding. Even the little doodle on the corner of the card was in the exact same spot. Suddenly, a horrible thought struck me. My heart sank. I immediately opened eBay, found the original seller, and messaged them for details. Ethan had bought it. And it wasn’t from the game that day. It was from a game in another city, an autograph the seller had gotten months ago. My anger flared. Why would Ethan lie to me? He never went to the game. So where was he that day? And who was he with? My followers were demanding an explanation. Fuming, I promised them I would get to the bottom of it. That evening, when Ethan came home, I confronted him, my face a grim mask. “Are you hiding something from me?” He looked at me with a weary expression. “You found out, huh? It’s about the autograph, isn’t it? Look, I bought it as a backup. I’ve been so swamped with work, I was afraid I wouldn’t make it to the pre-game signing. So I made a Plan B, and it’s a good thing I did, because I didn’t make it in time.” “You were busy until midnight?” The game ended at midnight. I didn’t believe he was working that late. Ethan pulled me into a hug, nuzzling my neck. “Thankfully, I made it for the second half.” He even showed me a video of himself at the arena with his friends. “We’re trying for a baby, remember? I’m just trying to work extra hard to save up for formula and diapers.” Seeing him so motivated for our future family, my expression softened. “You could have just told me the truth, honey. When I posted the photo, my fans accused me of being a fake. I could barely defend myself.” Ethan promised immediately, “It won’t happen again! I swear, babe.” He held me close and kissed me twice. Just then, Mochi trotted over, rubbing against my legs. But around his neck was a new bandana I’d never seen before. I stared at it, certain I hadn’t bought it. “Where did Mochi get this new bandana? I haven’t bought him one recently.” My tone was serious, and Ethan waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, probably a freebie from the groomer. I didn’t even notice.” His expression was perfectly natural. He yawned, said he was exhausted from overtime, and went to take a shower. I nodded, my face a placid mask. As he walked into the bedroom, the knot in my stomach tightened. I’d been taking Mochi to the same groomer for years. They never gave out free bandanas. And more importantly, caught in the fabric of this one was a single, long, reddish-brown curl. I touched my own short, dark hair. It definitely wasn’t mine. And in all the years we’d lived here, no one with reddish-brown hair had ever set foot in our apartment. There were too many strange things about Ethan lately. My intuition was screaming at me. He was lying.

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