Category: English

The third year Benjamin and I were married to the Beaumont sisters, their old flame came back. At a family dinner, Benjamin’s wife, Stella, slapped him across the face for defending the guy. When I found him, half his face was swollen and his eyes were bloodshot. “Noah, I can’t take this anymore. She hit me—for him!” he choked out. “I want a divorce. What about you?” I thought of how Clarissa had grown colder and colder since Tristan Davenport returned, of all the nights she hadn’t come home. A bitter smile touched my lips. “If you’re leaving, I’m leaving. We’ll go together.” We planned our escape for weeks, and finally, we boarded a flight abroad, having told no one. But as I settled into my seat, I looked up and met the icy gaze of my wife, Clarissa Beaumont. We were dragged off the plane and locked in a dark room in the Beaumont estate to “reflect.” As I wracked my brain trying to figure out where our plan went wrong, Benjamin’s voice, small and weak, cut through the silence. “Sorry, Noah… I did it for your own good.” 1 I stared at my best friend, Benjamin Shaw, my mind blank. “What do you mean?” Benjamin was already afraid of the dark, and my flat, emotionless question was the final straw. He swallowed hard and finally confessed. “Just… don’t get mad, okay?” he whispered. “Clarissa runs the entire Beaumont corporation. She’s sharp as a damn razor. She knew we were up to something for ages! The day we left for the airport, I opened my door, suitcase in hand, and she was just… standing there. Waiting for me.” “You know how terrified I am of your wife, especially when she gets that look on her face. The second she started questioning me, I couldn’t even think of a lie. I just told her everything.” I never would have guessed. Our escape was foiled by a traitor in our midst. A firestorm of anger roared inside me, but one look at the genuine fear and apology written all over Benjamin’s face, and it fizzled out. I couldn’t stay mad at him. It was just… exhausting. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and forced my voice to soften. “Then why didn’t you tell me on the way to the airport? If we knew she was onto us, we could have canceled the plan, thrown her off the scent, and tried again later. Now she has us right where she wants us.” At the mention of that, Benjamin’s own anger flared. “It’s all Clarissa’s fault!” he seethed. “I thought, even if she stopped us, she’d only take you back. I never thought she’d care about me leaving! I’m not her husband!” …What a wonderfully simple way of thinking. That was the thing about my best friend. He had a heart of gold, but sometimes his logic was so simple it bordered on idiotic. The Beaumont sisters had lost their mother young. Clarissa, as the eldest, had practically raised Stella. Of course she wouldn’t let him just walk away, not after he made such a scene at dinner a few days ago. If he disappeared right after that, what would people say? I sighed and closed my eyes, hiding my fatigue. I had put so much work into planning this escape. Benjamin watched my face, not daring to speak. Then, he threw an arm around my shoulders. “Noah, don’t be mad, please? I was thinking of you, I swear. Before I told her, I thought about it. Clarissa’s always been good to you, hasn’t she? Gives you anything you want. If you really left with me, we’d have to struggle for a long, long time. I couldn’t stand to see you suffer. I figured… if you stayed with her, at least you’d be safe.” He paused, his expression turning bitter. “Besides… Stella definitely doesn’t want me anymore. I’m sure Clarissa told her our plan the second she knew. And look—Stella didn’t even try to stop me. She didn’t care that I was leaving. It doesn’t matter if you run or not, but for me… it’s real. She doesn’t love me anymore.” Seeing his pain, the last of my anger evaporated. I pulled him into a hug, about to offer some comfort when the door to the room was kicked open. Stella stood in the doorway, her face a thundercloud. “Benjamin Shaw, you’ve really grown a backbone, haven’t you?” she sneered. “A man who gets lost five blocks from his own house dares to run away from home? Who gave you the nerve? So I slapped you. We’ve fought plenty of times growing up. Is it really that big of a deal?” 2 They were childhood sweethearts, and their fights always devolved into dredging up the past. Sure enough, Benjamin shot to his feet, incensed. “You think what happened then is the same as what happened the other night? We were kids! That was just messing around!” Stella’s eye twitched. She crossed her arms, her expression flat. “Right. Messing around. When we were nine, you pulled my chair out from under me as I stood up to answer a question in class. I hit my head on the desk behind me and got a concussion. When we were thirteen, you tied my shoelaces together while I was asleep. I fell, broke my leg, and spent New Year’s in the hospital. If all of that was just ‘messing around’ in your eyes, then after all these years, a single slap seems pretty damn fair, don’t you think?” This kind of bickering was their normal. Watching them, I felt an unexpected pang of envy. Benjamin was speechless, his face turning cold as he struggled to catch his breath. “No matter what, you hit me for another man,” he said, his voice low and hard. “I will remember that, Stella. Even if I can’t leave today, this marriage is over.” Anyone who knew him understood: as long as he was yelling and fighting, it wasn’t serious. But when he went quiet, when he lost the energy to argue… that’s when you knew his heart was truly broken. Stella realized the gravity of the situation. She knew she couldn’t talk him down easily. Her expression finally turned serious. She sighed and turned to me. “Noah, don’t just stand there watching the show. You’re the one who really needs to think about what you’ve done. Benjamin and I have our issues to sort out, but my sister has respected you for the three years you’ve been married. She’s given you all the dignity a husband in our world could ask for. You shouldn’t have gotten involved in his drama.” Benjamin blinked, now looking at me too. “Yeah, Noah, I never asked. Why did you want to leave with me? I always thought Clarissa treated you with respect. She never embarrassed you in public, always gave you your space. Not like me…” He shot a glare at Stella and huffed. “I had no choice but to leave!” I flinched and looked down, a bitter smile on my face. Yes. Respect. Everyone could see it, even someone as dense as Benjamin. Clarissa had only ever shown me respect. I used to think that for someone as cold as her, respect and dignity were all she had to give. But after Tristan Davenport came back, I learned that she was capable of love, too. 3 Unlike Benjamin and Stella, who had grown up together, Clarissa and I were nothing more than a business arrangement. At first, I told myself her detached personality was a result of running the Beaumont empire for so long. That, combined with a loveless arranged marriage, made her coolness toward me seem normal. But three years in, I often wondered if it was more than just coolness. It was an almost complete absence. We were husband and wife, but aside from obligatory family dinners and polite morning and evening greetings, we barely spoke. If I ever tried to show a little more concern, she would shut me down. “I don’t like needy men.” “Don’t do unnecessary things.” If it weren’t for her father pressuring us for an heir, I doubt we would have been intimate more than five times a month. And even then, it was like she was completing a task assigned by her elders. The moment it was over, she would pull away without a trace of lingering affection and head for the shower. I never felt an ounce of passion from her. If Benjamin hadn’t been there, living in the same house, I think the loneliness would have driven me mad. I knew she wouldn’t change for me, so I tried to change for her, forcing myself to accept her coldness. Until Tristan came back. I watched her face carefully the day she got his call. Longing, joy, resentment, stubbornness. It was the first time I had ever seen such a complex storm of emotion on Clarissa’s eternally frosty face. And in that moment, I knew how wrong I had been. The day Tristan returned was my birthday. I had swallowed my pride and begged her for days to spend it with me, to act like a normal couple in love—a walk, a movie, a candlelit dinner. But after that call, she didn’t even glance at me again. As she rushed out the door, she threw a careless line over her shoulder. “Something urgent came up at the office. I’ll take you out when I get back.” I clung to that promise. I put on my best suit and waited. And waited. I knew that Clarissa never broke a promise. But I sat there, watching the sun climb high in the sky and then sink below the horizon, and my heart sank with it, piece by piece, into a dark abyss. At three in the morning, I stared at the long list of rejected calls on my phone and dialed her number one more time. This is your last chance, Clarissa, I thought. One more rejection, and I’m done. But this time, the call connected. I froze, a thousand emotions rushing to my lips, leaving me speechless. Before I could say a word, I heard it from the other end of the line. A soft, intimate gasp. Then another, more heated and intense. And finally, her voice, a breathy, tender whisper I had never heard before. “Kiss me.” It was nothing like she was with me. She didn’t have to say another word. I understood everything. And my heart turned to ash. She wasn’t a frozen lake, after all. She just wouldn’t create waves for me. … After I finished my story, Benjamin’s eyes were red. “Noah, why didn’t you ever tell me any of this? I had no idea you were going through so much. If I had known, I swear, even if Clarissa had skinned me alive today, I wouldn’t have told her our plan!” Stella listened in silence, then hesitated. “Noah, my sister, she…” Benjamin cut her off, his voice raw. “Get out! Both of you sisters are cut from the same rotten cloth!” He shoved Stella out of the room. Turning back, he saw the lingering bitterness on my face and pulled me into another tight hug. “We’re a real pair, you and me. Brothers in misery.” I let out a quiet sigh. If this marriage was a mistake, then it was time to cut my losses. I forced myself to rally, managing a weak smile. “It’s okay. We’ll get another chance. This time we failed, so we’ll just try again. But next time,” I warned, “you are not allowed to sell me out.” 4 At dinner, Benjamin and I were finally released. A number of Beaumont family elders were present, and to my surprise, so was Tristan. Of all the younger generation present, I was, by birthright, the least qualified to marry Clarissa. Our marriage was a formality, a way for the Beaumonts to repay a debt to my family, the Vances, for helping them in their early days. It was less a merger and more a favor, a way to elevate my family’s standing. Because of this, my father-in-law, Marcus Beaumont, held me in the lowest regard. He’d heard about our escape attempt. With Benjamin, he was merely patronizing, a few light scoldings. But when his gaze fell on me, his entire demeanor shifted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Benjamin was genuinely hurt, so a little tantrum is understandable. But you, Noah Vance, as the eldest son-in-law, you should have been talking sense into him, not joining in on the foolishness. Utterly classless. Can’t you use your brain? It’s a disgrace.” I wasn’t being foolish. And since everyone was here, it was the perfect time to clear the air. I shot a cool glance at Tristan and was about to speak. But he beat me to it, his voice smooth and warm. “Marcus, please don’t be angry. I bear some of the blame for this misunderstanding. I came today specifically to explain. The day I returned, I accidentally answered a call on Clarissa’s phone from an unsaved number. The person on the other end hung up without saying a word. Thinking back, it must have been Noah. I imagine he must have gotten the wrong idea, which led to all this.” He smiled gently, but his eyes held a glint of challenge. I forced the corner of my mouth up. “So?” I said, my face a mask. “What’s your explanation? What were the two of you doing that day?” He chuckled, feigning innocence. “I had just gotten back to the country. I missed Clarissa terribly, so we were just… catching up.” Catching up? Was that what he called a conversation that consisted of nothing but breathless gasps? I let out a cold laugh, ready to expose the truth. But Clarissa finally had enough. “If you’re going to cause a scene, you can leave,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. She wasn’t looking at anyone, as if warning the entire table. But I could feel her gaze on me from the corner of her eye. She was warning me. But I had been perfectly composed since I sat down, having said only one thing. Who was really causing the scene here? A bitter pill lodged in my throat. It took all my strength to keep the tears from falling. Benjamin saw my distress and secretly squeezed my hand under the table. “Say the word,” he whispered. “You start the fight, I’ll jump in. We married sisters for a reason, right? So we could have a united front against unreasonable in-laws and useless wives. I’m still scared of Clarissa, but for you, I’ll fight.” I managed a weak, sad smile and shook my head. Let it go. I had no hope for this family anymore. Clarissa’s outburst silenced the table for a moment. But it wasn’t long before Marcus started up again. “Some people just have no class,” he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I always preferred Tristan, to be honest. But my late wife insisted on repaying your family’s kindness. What could I do? I’m sure if Tristan had married one of my daughters, he wouldn’t be throwing a fit over some baseless rumor. He wouldn’t cause such an embarrassing spectacle.” He fixed his glare on me. “Noah, since you married up, you need to learn your place. In our world, a woman can’t be expected to have only one man in her life. Whether it’s true or not, you have to be tolerant. Do you understand? You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” His tone was so condescending, as if my marriage to Clarissa was an act of his charity. Benjamin, with his famously short fuse, had been simmering for a while. The screech of his chair scraping back was loud in the silence as he shot to his feet. But before he could say a word, Stella and I grabbed his wrists from either side, holding him down. I shook my head, too tired to even smile. There was no point in arguing. If I still held any hope for this family, for Clarissa, maybe I would have fought back. But my mind was already made up. I was leaving. Fighting with them now was utterly meaningless. 5 After dinner, Clarissa and I returned to our room. Since Tristan’s return, she had started staying out all night. Soon, it became days at a time. We were husband and wife, but thinking back, aside from being caught at the airport today, we hadn’t seen each other in nearly two weeks. Now, being alone with her in the same room felt suffocatingly strange and awkward. I couldn’t stand the oppressive atmosphere. I silently tried to walk past her to the bathroom. But she grabbed my arm, her voice heavy. “In the Beaumont family, we don’t divorce. We have widows. Now that we’re married, it’s for life. You can’t run away. I don’t want this to happen again. Do you understand?” Her grip was painfully tight, as if she was truly afraid I would flee again, as if she could physically restrain me from leaving. But on what grounds? No divorce, only widows. It should have been a vow of loyalty, but between us, loyalty had only ever been a shackle for me. When had that word ever constrained her? A sarcastic smile twisted my lips. “In that case, if I insist on a divorce, would you die for me?” She frowned, not answering my question. “You know that’s not what I meant. Tristan and I are in the past…” “Enough!” I cut her off, my face cold. “I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t care about your past. Let’s… let’s just go back to how things were before.” Without another look at her, I escaped into the bathroom. The warm water sluicing over my body brought a sliver of clarity to my mind. Her words had given me an idea. Simply running away would always leave loose ends. But death… death was final. If the only way out was to be a widower, then I would die for her. 6 The next day, the Beaumont sisters left for their respective businesses, and Benjamin and I finally had a chance to talk. When he heard about the “no divorce, only widows” rule, he exploded. “Are the Beaumonts all brain-dead? What century is this? How can they have such a backward, idiotic rule? What did all the men who married into this family do when their marriages fell apart? Did they all jump off a building?” “No way, I can’t accept that. The only way I’m leaving Stella is if we have a duel to the death on the interstate!” I thought for a moment, then said quietly, “Actually… that’s not a bad idea.” Benjamin froze, grabbing my shoulders. “Noah, don’t! Get a grip! Don’t throw your life away for a marriage that isn’t worth it!” I sighed, half-amused, and steadied him. “What are you talking about? I meant, if divorce and running away won’t work, we can fake our deaths to get out.” “But jumping off a building is too risky and hard to fake. How about the ocean? We’re both strong swimmers.” The moment he realized there was a way out, Benjamin’s eyes lit up. “The ocean is boring! If we’re going to do this, let’s go big! Let’s blow up this damn mansion! What do you think?” I blinked. “What?” He looked around the sprawling villa, a mix of nostalgia and hatred in his eyes. “This house is old. It’s filled with memories of me and Stella growing up. That’s the only reason we didn’t buy a new place when we got married. But now… I hate these memories. I don’t want to take them with me, and I sure as hell don’t want to leave them for her. So, let’s just burn it all down.” I hadn’t realized how much he had come to resent Stella because of her old flame. I wasn’t part of their childhood, so I didn’t know the history between the three of them. But it must have been painful. He didn’t want to talk about it, and I didn’t need to ask. I pushed aside my stray thoughts and considered his idea. It wasn’t bad. An explosion would take care of the problem of needing bodies. I refined the plan, then looked at him seriously. “I’ve confirmed it. Clarissa is leaving for a business trip tonight and will be gone for at least a week. The day after tomorrow, Stella is going to a friend’s birthday party in the countryside and won’t be home that night. That’s our only chance.” “I’ll find a way to send all the staff out so no one gets hurt. The only thing I’m worried about is you. This time, you can’t make any mistakes. Understood?” Benjamin gripped my hands, his expression just as solemn. “Deal.”

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The year my foster mother beat me half to death was the same year I found out I was the “real” daughter, switched at birth on purpose. After a whirlwind transition back to the wealthy Sterling family, I instinctively chose the smallest, shabbiest room in the mansion. My biological mom immediately stopped me. “Why are you going into the maid’s quarters? Your room is upstairs.” My brother walked towards me with his hand extended. Conditioned by habit, I lowered my head and meekly handed over my monthly allowance. His eyes widened in shock. “I’m your brother! I was reaching out to bandage your wounds, not take your money!” Then came Chloe, the girl who took my place. She walked towards me with a tear-streaked face. I braced myself, turning my left cheek like they do in the dramas, ready for the slap. I expected a stinging pain. Instead, I got a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry, big sis. Can you please not hate me?” 1 The scenery outside the car window blurred past. The woman sitting next to me held my hand, her grip slightly nervous. Maybe my expression was too numb, because she kept throwing out topic after topic. “Do you like Barbies, Ava? Mom will buy you a bunch, you can pick whatever you want.” “How are your grades? Is there anything you’re particularly interested in? Mom can sign you up for some classes.” “Oh, I’m talking too much. How about you decide what we eat for lunch, Ava? We can have the chef make it, or Mom can cook. My specialty is steamed egg custard, I just don’t know if you like it.” She gave me an awkward smile. Her hands were well-maintained, soft and fair, not looking at all like the hands of a forty-year-old woman. I lowered my head and whispered, “Whatever is fine.” My foster mother used to say my voice sounded like a rooster crowing—annoying as hell. Every time she saw me, she got irritated. Since then, I tried not to speak unless absolutely necessary. I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I’d scare this new mom, and she’d send me back. After all, she didn’t raise me. She might find me repulsive. 2 The day my mom found me, my foster mother had gotten into a huge fight with my drunk foster father. She took all her anger out on me. A wooden stick as thick as a thumb—she said she’d break it on me, and she did. I didn’t have a single patch of unbruised skin left. beaten to within an inch of my life, I was suddenly pulled into a warm embrace. Hot tears fell on my face. In my daze, I thought I had gone to heaven. I didn’t want to die, but heaven seemed okay. There was a woman with a gentle voice guiding me. Life there probably wouldn’t be too hard. At least, it couldn’t be harder than this. “My daughter… I finally found you. My poor baby.” I was sent to the hospital and recovered for a month before my mom took me home. My dad is the CEO of a publicly traded company, my mom owns an art gallery. I have a brother in his junior year of high school, and a sister in the same grade as me—freshman year. A sister with zero blood relation to me. We live in a villa, with countless luxury cars, a housekeeper, and bodyguards. After entering the house, Mom went to the kitchen to check on lunch. She told me to pick a room first. “You can have whichever one you want.” I pursed my lips and carefully walked around the first floor. Even the bathroom was bigger, brighter, and cleaner than the entire house I used to live in. I picked the only room that seemed “small and shabby” compared to the others, though it was actually spacious, bright, and had AC, a washer, and an ensuite bathroom. In my old life, I wouldn’t have dared to dream of this. Just having a bed was a luxury. I figured this one would do. I shouldn’t be greedy as the newcomer. Not sleeping in the security booth was already a win. I started walking towards that room. Mom poked her head out of the kitchen and saw me. She immediately called out, “Ava, why are you going into the maid’s room? That’s for the housekeeper! Your room is upstairs!” 3 I sighed softly. I knew I didn’t have that kind of luck. The upstairs room must be cramped, dark, damp, and stuffy. Walking up the carved wooden staircase, I was dazzled by the exquisite paintings on the walls. I didn’t dare touch anything, not even a corner. I was terrified Mom would make me pay for it. Even if I sold my worthless life, I couldn’t afford it. When I got to the second floor, I was dumbfounded. Every room was twice the size of the ones downstairs. The luxury was jaw-dropping. Just as I was debating whether to sleep on the stairs or in the small storage closet at the end of the hall, a boy with striking eyebrows and bright eyes put his hand on my shoulder. I turned to look at him. He looked about 50% like me. He had a sunny smile on his face and a backpack over one shoulder, looking like a high schooler who just got home. “You must be Ava. I’m your brother, Liam.” He looked apologetic. “Sorry I didn’t visit you in the hospital earlier. I was at a training camp, and the coach wouldn’t let me leave. I just got back.” “You’ve suffered all these years. As your brother, it’s my fault for not protecting you back then. If I had been a bit older, you wouldn’t have been taken.” His eyes were filled with pain. I couldn’t help but comfort him, “It’s okay. I’m fine now.” It wasn’t their fault. Liam looked up. “You were picking a room, right? Why don’t you take the one next to mine? Easier for me to look out for you.” I wanted to refuse, but he didn’t give me a chance. So, half-pushed, half-led, I chose the room next to his. Liam left for a second and came back holding a small box. He sat down in my room and extended his hand towards me. “Come here.” Right. Every time my foster brother, Tyler, needed money, he would sweet-talk me before extending his hand. This meant he wanted money. I dug out an envelope from my pocket. It was the allowance Mom had just stuffed in there. It wasn’t even warm yet. I was self-aware. I meekly handed over my living expenses. It wasn’t my money anyway. I had no attachment to it. Just like the twenty bucks I earned collecting bottles—I handed that over too. Liam’s eyebrows knitted together in displeasure. He looked at me, then at the envelope. Was he dissatisfied with the amount? Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock. “I’m your brother! I was reaching out to bandage your wound, not take your money!” He pulled my sleeve, looking anxious and angry. He took out a cotton swab, dipped it in iodine, lifted my hair, and gently applied it to the wound, even blowing on it softly. “This cut hasn’t healed properly. Wait a sec, I’ll put a band-aid on it. Your hair must have been covering it; Mom didn’t even notice.” “If anyone hits you in the future, you hit them back. I’ll take the consequences. If I can’t handle it, Mom and Dad will. You’re my biological sister; you can’t just let people bully you for nothing, understand?” I nodded blankly. He stuffed the envelope back into my hand. He seemed satisfied. “Although no one would dare bully you with me around, there might be times when I’m not there. How about this? I’ll sign you up for a kickboxing class.” He looked at me with burning intensity. I actually laughed. “Sure, why not.” Liam muttered helplessly, “Finally heard you speak. I almost thought you were mute.” Just then, Mom called from downstairs, “Dinner’s ready!” 4 I walked down the stairs stiffly, my feet feeling like I was walking on cotton. I was afraid if I stepped too hard, I’d wake up and realize this was all a dream. I was starting to get attached to this dream. The dining table was filled with over a dozen dishes. It was a grand affair. Mom and Liam kept piling food into my bowl until it was overflowing. “I peeled the shrimp for you, eat it while it’s hot.” “This abalone is really fresh, try a bite.” “This carp soup is the housekeeper’s specialty. Mom will get you a small bowl. Careful, it’s hot. Drink it when it cools down.” I took a cautious sip. Just then, Dad walked in holding my sister’s hand. Even though he was the CEO of a listed company, he was carrying her small backpack himself. My sister was cute, looking like a delicate doll. She had pigtails and a bunch of clips in her hair, looking like a princess living in a fairytale castle. Seeing me, she timidly called out, “Sister?” I bit my lip. Was my dream going to shatter this quickly? Mom had apologized to me before: “I’m sorry, Ava. We discussed it for a long time, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to send Chloe back. After all, we raised her for 15 years.” “If she went back, the drop in lifestyle would be too huge. She wouldn’t be able to handle it, and it would break our hearts.” “Even though there’s no blood relation, in our eyes, she’s been our daughter for a long time.” “I know you suffered and went through hell, but it wasn’t her fault. Chloe cried so many times, saying she didn’t mean for this to happen, that she’ll make it up to you and earn your forgiveness. Please let her stay, okay?” “I promise, even if I’m biased, I’ll be biased towards you.” Facing Mom’s pleading eyes, I couldn’t refuse. I had no right to refuse. After all, to this family of four, I was the real “outsider.” Whenever I dreamed of things I didn’t deserve, my foster mother would curse me out and slap me. “You stupid little wretch! Look in the mirror at your ugly face! Do you deserve anything? Pfft!” “Let me tell you, rotten melons don’t produce good seeds. You’re delusional! A toad wanting to eat swan meat! You just don’t have the destiny for it!” Back then, I was hung up and beaten for a whole day. And the reason? I saw other classmates eating lollipops and begged my foster mom to buy me one. That lollipop was on special at a new store. It cost ten cents. I lowered my head and stopped drinking the soup. I was waiting. Waiting for Chloe to throw herself into Mom and Dad’s arms and cry, asking why they brought me back. Waiting for Mom and Dad to make me apologize, scolding me for making their daughter unhappy. Waiting for my brother to heartache for Chloe and cut ties with me. “Get out! You’re not my sister! I hate you!” It was so strange. I had only been with them for a short time. Why did imagining these scenes feel like a knife twisting in my heart? Clearly, this was normal. I had always been the child who wasn’t favored. Why did it hurt so much? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe walking towards me with a mournful face. Sigh. Isn’t that how it goes in TV dramas? I accepted my fate. I closed my eyes and offered my left cheek. My right cheek was still swollen from my foster mom’s beating. If she hit the left one, at least I’d be symmetrical. I waited for a long time. I expected a burning pain. Instead, a pair of soft, warm lips pressed against my left cheek. Not only did I not get hit, I got a kiss. I opened my eyes in surprise. Chloe threw herself into my arms. She was wailing, her small arms wrapped around my waist, melting like a little snowman. “I’m sorry, big sis! Can you please not hate me?” “I really don’t want to leave this home. Please don’t kick me out, okay? I didn’t mean to take your place.” “I won’t acknowledge my biological parents, never in this life. I only acknowledge you as my sister. Good sister, can you please like me in the future? I promise I’ll be good!” She… she wasn’t following the script? Was it my imagination? They seemed… actually welcoming? Even Dad, who had been stoic the whole time, had tears in the corners of his eyes. No, no, no. This must be their disguise. My foster mom said I was the worst child in the world and no one would like me. Yes, that must be it.

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The first thing the eighteen-year-old Kevin asked when he time-traveled to my present was, “Did I cheat on you, years from now?” From my lonely perch in this giant villa, I asked in surprise, “How did you know?” Eighteen-year-old Kevin gripped my hand. “Evelyn, just you wait. I’m going to beat the living crap out of my future self!” Leaning against the doorframe, twenty-nine-year-old Kevin asked with a cold smirk, “Beat the crap out of who?” “Trying to move in while the master’s away? Have some shame, Kevin.” 1. From our first date to our wedding day to this life together, it took Kevin and me nearly eleven years. But when I found a long strand of hair that wasn’t mine on his suit jacket and the smudge of cheap, dusty rose lipstick on his collar, I knew. Kevin was cheating. I accepted it with a strange sense of calm. It had been a long time coming. Humans aren’t built for eternal devotion. In the end, love is just a contract of responsibility. Besides, Kevin gave me so much. Every time he came back from one of his trysts, he’d bring me a designer gift as a peace offering. Every week, money would appear in my account like clockwork. Watching the numbers on my bank statement climb, I learned to live with it. After all, I was useless. Shoulders that couldn’t carry a thing, hands that couldn’t lift. The kind of delicate disaster who sees stars just from standing up too fast. Whenever he finally got tired of me and asked for a divorce, I’d just grab my closets full of designer clothes and my collection of black cards and disappear. But then, that night, the eighteen-year-old version of Kevin traveled here through a painting I’d made long ago. I was curled up on the couch, eating spicy takeout and binge-watching a show, when a voice called out from behind me. “Evelyn?” I turned to see a young, boyish face. I stared for a long moment before speaking. “Kevin, did you secretly get a facelift behind my back?” “…” He blinked, then grabbed my hand. “You idiot! I’m the eighteen-year-old Kevin.” He held my hand tight, waving his arms around wildly as he explained how he’d come through the painting. “I just touched it, and then this powerful, mysterious force just yoinked me into the future!” When you get to a certain age, your emotions tend to level out. I calmly watched this dramatic teenager. “Have you had dinner? You want to grab a bite before you go? I ordered enough for two.” Eighteen-year-old Kevin shook his head frantically. “I didn’t come here to eat!” “I came to ask you something important. Did I—the future me—fucking cheat on you?” That caught me off guard. “How did you know?” His eyes turned red. “Evelyn, you just wait. I swear I’m going to kill me!” Before either of us could react, a cold laugh echoed from the doorway. Twenty-nine-year-old Kevin was back, I don’t know when. He held a gift bag in one hand, his shoulder resting against the doorframe. His gaze landed like a physical weight on our joined hands. “Kill who?” “And who gave you permission to hold my wife’s hand?” “Trying to steal what’s mine while I’m away? Have a little self-respect, Kevin.” The younger Kevin was a lit fuse. He shot to his feet. “Who the hell is the shameless one here? You’re sneaking around behind this beautiful woman’s back, and you have the nerve to talk!” The older Kevin pulled me to his side. “You are, obviously. This is my wife, not yours. Now crawl back to whatever hole you came from.” The two Kevins started shouting over each other, and my head began to throb. The younger one, his eyes red-rimmed again, pointed a trembling finger. “Evelyn, you choose! Do you want the eighteen-year-old me, or this thirty-year-old fossil!” His expression screamed, If you don’t pick me, I’m going to throw a fit. 2. My twenty-nine-year-old husband let out a contemptuous laugh. “Kids are so melodramatic. What can you possibly give Evelyn? Go on, I’d love to hear it.” He pulled a glittering necklace from a box—the latest piece from my favorite designer—and gently fastened it around my neck. “I can give her anything she wants. And you?” “What can you do besides scream?” I thought the eighteen-year-old would back down. The adult world was far more complicated than he could imagine. But in the next second, his eyes welled up as he shot back, “At least I’m factory-new! Not like your second-hand equipment!” “…” It wasn’t just the older Kevin who went silent. I did, too. My husband’s face darkened. After a long pause, he forced the words out. “Evelyn, I am not ‘second-hand’.” The younger Kevin pulled me toward him. “Don’t believe him. Even if he’s not second-hand, he could be third-hand, fourth-hand, who knows? And you know Evelyn never shares.” The older Kevin was losing his famous composure, his anger rising to meet his younger self’s. “The only thing that matters is who can make her feel good! Are you as big as me? Do you have my technique? What can you do on your first time besides fumble around like an idiot?” The younger Kevin covered my ears. “La la la, I can’t hear you!” That was the last straw. The older Kevin looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. He grabbed my wrist. “Evelyn! The choice is yours. Choose. Me, the twenty-nine-year-old! Or him, the eighteen-year-old!” The younger one held onto my other hand for dear life, placing it on top of his head as he whispered pleadingly in my ear, “Evelyn, don’t go to him. Please, pick me?” The older one roared, “Have you no shame, Kevin!” “If it’s for Evelyn, I don’t need shame!” the younger one yelled back. One Kevin was already enough to drive me crazy. Now there were two. I yanked my hands free and slapped them both across the face. “Both of you, shut up! It’s too damn loud!” “I’m trying to eat. Go back to where you came from and do whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing!” The eighteen-year-old clutched his cheek, looking at me with wounded eyes. The twenty-nine-year-old just let out a quiet chuckle and worked his jaw. “By the way, Kevin…” They both answered at once. “Which one?” My gaze settled on the older one’s face. “I’ve made up my mind,” I said coolly. “I’ll go on the blind date you set up for me.” “After all, you said it yourself. A hundred thousand dollars for each meeting, and if I find someone I like, I get shares in your company. An offer that good would be stupid to refuse.” A sharp, wounded noise escaped the younger Kevin. “What?! Kevin, have you lost your goddamn mind? How could you do this to Evelyn after everything she’s been through with you?” The older Kevin sneered. “Was I really this immature at eighteen?” “Stop looking at the adult world through your childish lens and go back to college where you belong.” “And stay away from Evelyn. I only arrange the best for her.” The younger Kevin punched the older one square in the jaw. “Bullshit! I won’t let Evelyn leave my world. Not even for you!” And with that, he vanished back into the painting. I stared at the canvas, reaching out to touch it. Nothing happened. Apparently, only Kevin could open the passage. 3. The painting was my final project for a class. I named it Unforgettable. The subject was eighteen-year-old Kevin. Using soft, warm tones, I tried to capture the love that seemed to spill from the eyes of a boy as radiant as the sun. Suddenly, the older Kevin wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips brushing my ear. “Feeling sorry for him? Having regrets?” I turned to face him and laughed. He took my hand and placed it on his bruised cheek. “You should be feeling sorry for me.” I’d already noticed the lipstick stain on his cuff. Today, it was a fiery terracotta. I looked at him, my smile laced with a double meaning. “Didn’t you already eat your fill before you came home?” “You haven’t touched me in ages. Did my eighteen-year-old self reawaken that long-dormant competitive spirit of yours?” Kevin froze for a second, then chuckled and let go of my hand. “Get some rest, Eve. Goodnight.” He turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop myself from calling out to his back. “Kevin, the person you’re cheating with is the eighteen-year-old me, isn’t it?” He paused but didn’t answer. I was right. I’d found cigarette ash beneath the Unforgettable painting. Eighteen-year-old Kevin didn’t smoke. It had to be the twenty-nine-year-old. Dusty rose and fiery terracotta. My two favorite lipstick shades my freshman year of college. The eighteen-year-old me was a vibrant, aspiring artist, full of life and sunshine. The almost-thirty-year-old me had lost all of that spirit, a money-obsessed recluse with no soul. The only person Kevin loved was the eighteen-year-old Evelyn. Luckily, the twenty-nine-year-old Evelyn wasn’t sad. Because the only thing she loved now was money. A hundred thousand dollars for a blind date. I agreed without a second thought. No one turns their back on money. While the twenty-nine-year-old Kevin was scheming about how to handle the two versions of me across time, the eighteen-year-old Kevin was doing everything in his power to make both versions of me happy. This was the fifth blind date my husband had arranged. I offered a polite smile to the balding programmer across from me. His first sentence was: “I’m almost thirty, twenty-eight actually, a little younger than you. My mom says I need to have a kid soon, preferably a boy. It would be best if we could have two in two years.” I stirred my coffee, quietly listening to him outline our post-nuptial life while mentally calculating how much my savings would grow after this was over. “Even though you’re about to be divorced, I don’t mind. My mom says a woman who’s been married before is more experienced and knows how to take care of a man. And she’ll be more skilled in bed. You know, one man plants the tree, another enjoys the shade.” “Oh, and my mom said if we get married, she’ll buy us a condo downtown…” SPLAT. A torrent of black coffee flew across the table, silencing his irritating monologue with its bitter aroma. “Your mom says this! Your mom says that! If your mom has so much to say, why don’t you just marry her?” “Two boys in two years? You want Evelyn to give you two sons? In your dreams!” “Even I wouldn’t dare to dream that big, and you’re already living it!” The programmer stared in shock at the familiar face of his assailant. “Dude, are you having a fight with yourself? Weren’t you the one who wanted to find a good man for your wife?” “None of your business! Take a look at yourself in a puddle! If you’re not weaned yet, don’t come out and ruin other people’s lives!” … A clean, fresh scent of mint washed over me. Eighteen-year-old Kevin grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the cafe amidst a string of curses. This was the fifth blind date he had ruined. The first guy got a fist to the face for staring at my chest a second too long. The second lost a tooth for calling me ugly. The third was so hideous he was kicked out the door before he could even step inside. The fourth was too poor. Kevin just tossed a credit card at him and told him to get lost. “Arrogant” was the only word for eighteen-year-old Kevin. Even now, with the twenty-nine-year-old version of himself watching us with a thunderous expression from his car, he wasn’t afraid. Young Kevin shot him the middle finger and put a helmet on my head. Over the roar of the motorcycle, the boy’s defiant hair whipped in the wind as he complained angrily, “I can’t believe he’d actually do something like this! The twenty-nine-year-old me is such a loser! Cheating on his wife! And then making her go on dates with other men!” “Thank god I came, or I can’t imagine how much you would have suffered!”

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Chapter 1 I’m a world-renowned cardiothoracic surgeon. To facilitate my emergency surgeries across the state, the government issued me a specialized vehicle with the license plate “1111.” It’s authorized for my use only. Whenever this car hits the road, the traffic control system clears the way, giving me green lights and a police escort from start to finish. Since receiving the car, I’ve kept it at my fiancé, Julian York’s, garage for maintenance. Until today. I received an urgent call: a high-ranking official with top-secret clearance needed an emergency heart transplant. I rushed to the York estate to pick up the car. Just as I was about to leave, a strange woman yanked open the back door and slid inside. “First, drop me off at the mall for my manicure,” she demanded, not even looking at me. “Then pick up the gelato Julian ordered for me. If it melts even a little, I’ll kill you!” “This is my car,” I said, assuming she had made a mistake, keeping my voice calm. “I have an emergency and need to get to the airport. Please get out immediately.” She scoffed. “Pfft! A designated driver trying to act like an owner? Open your dog eyes and look at the license plate!” “You’re in the wrong here,” the housekeeper chimed in, eyeing me with disdain. “Everyone in the city knows Mr. Julian loves taking Miss Sienna out in this car. No one dares to mess with it.” I froze. My fiancé dared to use this car to take her joyriding? This was… catastrophic. … Using this car without my permission was tantamount to misappropriating government property. That’s a minimum three-year sentence. Not to mention using it behind my back to chauffeur another woman. That just added insult to injury. If the York family had any sense, they’d make Julian apologize profusely. For the sake of our engagement, maybe I could pull some strings and get him a lenient sentence. However… I looked at the woman lounging in the backseat like royalty. This Miss Sienna, whoever she was, was beyond saving. She refused to budge, and I didn’t have the patience to argue. I looked away, started the engine, and prepared to head to the airport. Saving a life was the priority. I’d make Julian explain this mess to my face after the surgery. The engine roared to life. I gripped the steering wheel, ready to go. “Are you insane?!” She screamed, lunging from the back seat to grab the wheel. “You dare drive without my permission?!” The car swerved violently toward the wall! At the last second, I slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel back. We careened off the path and crashed into a flowerbed, the engine stalling. “Are you crazy??” I shouted, my heart pounding. “Who told you to touch anything!” She rolled her eyes. “Do it again, and I’ll chop your hands off! Bitch!” Ignoring her, I jumped out to inspect the dented hood. Thankfully, the engine seemed fine. A miracle in the chaos. Just as I was about to get back in, the York family bodyguards swarmed me, shoving me aside. Under the woman’s triumphant gaze, they hopped into the driver’s seat. “Offend Miss Sienna and think you can run?” they sneered. “We’ll skin you alive today!” I never expected the York family’s staff to obey her like trained dogs. “Who is she?” I asked the housekeeper, who was watching the drama unfold with a smirk. “You don’t know Miss Sienna?” She looked at me like I was a joke. “She’s the intern assistant the Young Master dotes on most! She’s only been at the company a month, and he’s already bringing her home every night. He even ordered everyone to call her the Mistress of the house. We don’t dare cross her. Who do you think you are?” Mistress of the house? I thought I misheard. Before I even married in, the York family already had a mistress? “Don’t you know Julian has a fiancée?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Pfft!” The housekeeper mocked. “The Young Master said ages ago that once that stupid woman marries in, she can get lost. He only recognizes Miss Sienna as the true mistress!” Sienna relaxed, looking at me smugly, deliberately flashing the diamond ring on her finger. I laughed in disbelief. The York family was truly shameless. If I had known Julian was this dirty, I wouldn’t have touched him with a ten-foot pole. I checked the time. Thirty minutes until the plane took off. If I didn’t leave now, I wouldn’t make it. “I’ll remind you one last time,” I said seriously. “You cannot afford the consequences of delaying my work. If you get out of the car now, I might put in a good word for you later.” Sienna’s eyes widened. “A little driver whose yearly salary can’t even buy one of my shoes!” she mocked. “Even if I beat you to death, I can afford to pay for your cheap life!” I didn’t have time to argue. Since she wouldn’t give up the car, I decided to leave and hail a taxi. I’d coordinate everything else on the way, hoping to make it to the airport in thirty minutes. Just as I reached the gate, a brutal kick landed in my stomach. My phone flew out of my hand. Caught off guard, I was knocked to the ground. My insides felt like they were being crushed. A metallic taste rose in my throat, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. Sienna sashayed over and planted her stiletto heel on my face. “Trying to leave without apologizing?” Chapter 2 Pain paralyzed my body. Sienna aimed her sharp heel directly at my eye. If she pressed down, my eyeball would burst instantly. Julian’s bodyguards stood around her, baseball bats in hand, looking at me with malicious intent. I was no match for this many people. “I… I’m sorry, Miss Sienna…” I gasped, swallowing my pride to save my life. A life was at stake; I had to compromise. “I really have a patient to save, please let me go…” A flicker of surprise crossed Sienna’s face. She smirked, suddenly bending down to grab my hair and slamming my head against the pavement. “Still lying when you’re about to die?!” She shrieked, “Think it’s fun impersonating a doctor? Even if you were a real doctor, let alone a driver, I could kill you as easily as stepping on an ant!” I struggled to protect my head with my hands. Sienna stomped viciously on my fingers. I screamed in agony, trembling as I repeated, “I’m sorry.” As a surgeon, my hands are my life. If they were damaged, I might never perform delicate surgery again! “Scared now?” Sienna sneered. “Too late!” She pointed at my car. “You wanted to drive, didn’t you? I thought of something even more fun.” With a glance from Sienna, the bodyguards swarmed me, tying me up and tethering me to the rear bumper of the car. Realizing what she intended to do, I shook uncontrollably. “I’ll die!” The fear of death made me hyperventilate. “You can’t—” Slap! A stinging slap across my face. Then, a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills was thrown at me. “Twenty grand to buy your life,” they laughed. “Miss Sienna once drove this car without a license and killed someone. She only paid ten grand. You should be grateful!” Before I could process their words, the engine roared. Lying on the scorching pavement, I was suddenly jerked forward. Sienna, behind the wheel, deliberately accelerated and swerved, cackling with glee as I was flung into a thorny rose bush. My exposed skin was shredded by thorns, blood instantly welling up in long streaks. I was only wearing thin casual clothes. If this continued, I would surely die! Suddenly, the car stopped. Sienna hopped out of the driver’s seat. “Tsk, tsk. I thought you’d pee your pants,” she said dramatically. “I’ve used this trick on five people. You’re the most boring!” I couldn’t retort. The bodyguards had already taped my mouth shut. Satisfied with my silence, Sienna hopped back in and gunned the engine. She deliberately drove onto a gravel path. Tiny rocks tore through my skin, embedding themselves deep into my flesh. My elbows and ankles were ground down to the bone. The excruciating pain blurred my consciousness. I wished my heart would just stop, so the torture would end. Just as I was about to black out from shock, Sienna slammed on the brakes. Chapter 3 “Julian! You—” She squealed excitedly, rushing forward. I struggled to lift my eyelids, wanting to demand an explanation from my fiancé. But the man stepping out of Julian’s car wasn’t him. It was his secretary, Vincent. Sienna immediately pouted. “I was so upset today I didn’t even get my nails done, and he sends you to placate me? I don’t care, he has to come soothe me himself!” “The boss has to stay with the Old Master for his surgery,” Vincent explained. “So what! The doctor I hired is a foreign expert, nothing will go wrong!” Sienna stomped her foot. “He won’t even come to keep me company…” Vincent frowned. When his eyes met mine, his body stiffened. He rushed to my side, shock filling his eyes as he took in my bloodied, battered state. “The boss ordered me to take her to the hospital immediately.” He reached out to untie the ropes. Dying, I only felt the irony. Most likely, something went wrong with the Old Master’s heart surgery, and Julian wanted me back. That surgery was extremely risky. No one but me could pull it off. “Her?” Sienna stared at me in disbelief, eyes burning with jealousy. “No wonder you dared to enter the York house! You used being a designated driver as an excuse to provoke me!” She screamed, “Speak! You dared to seduce Julian behind my back! You slut!” She slapped Vincent’s hand away from the ropes. “Think you can climb the ladder?” She mocked, “I’ve seen plenty of women like you! Julian just plays around. Once he’s bored, he hands them over to me to deal with.” “Even if I torture you to death, he’ll only praise me for a job well done!” Consumed by jealousy, Sienna ran back to the driver’s seat like a madwoman. The engine roared to life. She floored the gas pedal! Vincent, who had been trying to save me, was left in the dust. In an instant, I felt the skin on my back being ripped off along with my clothes. My wrists were ground raw, bone visible. “AHHH!!!!!” Sienna suddenly screamed. Crash! The car stopped. Vincent had rammed his car into hers to force her to stop. “Enough!” His chest heaved. “Mr. York said to bring her!” “Doesn’t he love me anymore?” Sienna wailed. “He’d rather be seduced by this trashy mistress than comfort me…” While she threw a tantrum, I seized the chance. Summoning the last of my strength, I broke free from the frayed ropes. I lunged at Vincent and snatched his phone. My hands were ground to a pulp. I would never hold a scalpel again. The mission to save the official was impossible now. Bleeding out, I held on to my last breath. Enduring agonizing pain, I used fingers with exposed bone to type a text to the leadership in D.C.: “Student incompetent. Failed the country’s trust. Only death can atone.” Chapter 4 “What garbage are you sending? Delete it!” Sienna’s shrill voice pierced my ears. I had lost too much blood. Darkness swallowed me, and I collapsed. I didn’t know how much time passed before I hazily opened my eyes. I tried to breathe, but only coughed up blood. “Where is Hazel?” The blurry figure in front of me sharpened. I finally recognized him. Julian. He frowned, radiating hostility, looking like he came to settle a score. “Asking for her as soon as you get here? What’s so good about her?” Sienna whined, putting on a baby voice. “If you like her so much, go live with her! I promise I’ll leave quietly.” “Don’t be silly,” Julian’s voice softened, full of indulgence. Favored, Sienna smiled even wider. She took Julian’s hand and led him to me. Seeing me, the man’s eyes widened. His gaze locked onto my face, confirming it was indeed Hazel. His breathing grew rapid, chest heaving. But in the end, he said nothing. He couldn’t even bring himself to scold Sienna. “She bullied me on purpose today! She scared me to death!” Sienna showed zero remorse. “I just gave her a little lesson. You’re not mad, are you?” “You did all this?” Julian frowned, disbelief in his eyes. “Yeah.” Sienna nodded innocently, eyes clear as a child with a new toy. “When I removed the uteruses of those blind women who pestered you before, you didn’t say anything. She just has a few scratches, and now you’re distressed?” “You care about a little driver? I’m jealous!” Hearing Sienna casually admit to forced hysterectomies, even though I was prepared, shock still hit me. She and Julian had hurt so many innocent people during their time together. All because the York family enabled her. And the irony? The York family’s power came entirely from me. If that was the case, I didn’t want this marriage. Julian bent down, suddenly grabbing my mangled shoulder. I screamed involuntarily. “There’s a problem with Grandpa’s surgery!” He gritted his teeth. “Come back with me immediately!” If I had the strength, I would have laughed. But I didn’t even have the energy to smile. I could only twitch the corner of my mouth. “I… am a liar…” “I promised you… I wouldn’t touch the Old Master…” Old Master York’s heart transplant seemed simple, but the risks were infinite. Only I had the ability to handle it. But my hands had been destroyed by Sienna. Julian’s eyes were bloodshot, looking like he wanted to kill me right there. “I’m warning you, if you still want to marry me, you have to save Grandpa! You owe me this!” “Me?” I lifted my arms, displaying my hands before his eyes. The abraded wrist bones shone starkly in the sunlight. Not one of my ten fingers was intact. Even a slight movement sent drilling pain through my body. “What makes you think…” I gritted my teeth, “these hands… can perform a heart transplant?” Julian’s face went pale instantly. He finally noticed my hands were mutilated beyond recognition. Old Master York’s last hope had been destroyed by the girl he doted on! “Impossible—” He took a deep breath, eyes red. “You must have a way!” Suddenly, an urgent ringtone interrupted him. The voice on the other end was crystal clear: “The Old Master… he’s gone!”

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Chapter 1 On the day the SAT results were released, Caleb Thorne’s name broke the internet. A perfect 1600. Every news outlet was scrambling to interview the valedictorian, and Twitter was in a meltdown. Caleb himself posted a screenshot of his score on Instagram, accompanied by a picture of him kissing me on the cheek. The caption read: “My girl deserves the best. @ChloeVance” The class group chat was going insane. “Holy crap, a perfect score?! Is Caleb even human?” “Help, genius + prom king + loyal boyfriend… this man is too perfect!” “Chloe must have saved the galaxy in her past life! Your man is on fire!” “Power couple alert! Locking it down!” Amidst the flood of congratulations, a message popped up that felt painfully out of place: “I envy Chloe so much. I’ll never deserve a boyfriend this amazing.” It was Grace Miller. The transfer student on financial aid. Her message silenced the chat for a few awkward seconds. Just as I was about to reply, I saw a notification. Caleb had Venmo’d Grace $999.99 with the note: “You will.” I used to think Caleb was just too kind. Like when he’d lend his umbrella to a soaked Grace on rainy days, or sneak breakfast into her locker, or send her a thousand dollars because she said she was “envious.” Then came the call from Harvard admissions. They told him that if he committed, they could offer a “partner admission” spot. He gave it to Grace. Afterward, he coaxed me with explanations: “Chloe, Grace’s family is struggling. If she doesn’t get into a top school, they’ll force her to marry some random guy back home. She needs this more than you.” “Your grades are great too. You can apply to other schools in Boston. We’ll still be together.” He thought he had everything figured out. What he didn’t know was that moments before the application portal closed, Grace had logged into my account and changed my choices to a community college thousands of miles away. My Ivy League dreams were shattered. Community college wasn’t even on my radar. Since his love was no longer pure, I decided to let go. … “Chloe, the application for the university in London is done. You can start in the fall,” my mom’s voice came through the phone. “But are you sure about studying abroad? Caleb has been attached to your hip since you were babies. Long distance isn’t easy.” I gripped my phone, a memory of Caleb’s first birthday flashing in my mind. He was barely walking, surrounded by toys for the “grab ceremony,” but he ignored them all, stumbling toward me and hugging my leg tight. Our families laughed, joking that the boy had picked his wife early. And he really did stick to me. In kindergarten, he demanded to sit next to me. In elementary school, he waited for me every day. In middle school, he studied to stay in the top class with me. In high school, he declared his territory for everyone to see. Our parents, seeing how close we were, basically arranged our engagement. Everyone knew we were a package deal. Until Grace appeared. The poor transfer student who ate plain bread for lunch and wore a faded uniform. When classmates mocked her, Caleb was the first to defend her. I never joined in the bullying; I even stood up for her sometimes. But gradually, Grace started clinging to Caleb. Walking behind him after school, bringing him breakfast, handing him water at basketball games. Then came the accident. A ceiling fan fell in the classroom, and she pushed Caleb out of the way, breaking two ribs. She was hospitalized for a month. From that moment, Caleb’s attitude toward her changed completely. His concern grew, his gaze softened, and now, he had even given her the Harvard partner spot. I couldn’t tell if it was gratitude or love. But having experienced his 100% devotion, I didn’t want this diluted version. “It won’t be long distance,” I said softly into the phone. “Mom, our paths are different now. Let’s call off the engagement.” “Are you serious?” Mom asked, surprised. “Yeah. I’ve thought it through.” Silence on the other end, then a sigh. “Alright. You’re young; you’ll meet plenty of people. Once you leave, we’ll go to the Thorne family and break it off.” “Break what off?” A clear male voice came from behind me. I turned to see Caleb standing in the entryway, the front door open behind him. He was wearing a black windbreaker, tall and lean, effortlessly handsome. Sunlight framed his silhouette. The sight of this spirited boy used to make my heart race. Now, looking at his face, I felt nothing but calm. “Nothing,” I said, hanging up the phone casually. Caleb didn’t press. He walked over, smiling, and handed me an exquisite garment bag. “Chloe, get changed. We’re going to the Teacher Appreciation Banquet.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I picked the best dress for you.” I took the bag. The banquet was already scheduled, and since I was leaving the country, I wouldn’t see these teachers and classmates much anymore. Consider it a final farewell. I went upstairs, changed, and came back down, only to find Grace already sitting in Caleb’s car. “Ch-Chloe…” Grace greeted timidly, twisting the hem of her skirt. What stung most was that her dress was from the same designer collection as mine, just a different color. Caleb walked over to explain. “When I was buying your dress, I realized Grace probably didn’t have anything to wear, so I grabbed one for her too.” He paused, reaching out to ruffle my hair, his tone cajoling. “Chloe, don’t overthink it.” I tilted my head, dodging his hand, and gave a self-deprecating smile. Once upon a time, girls tried every trick to get Caleb’s attention, but he only had eyes for me. He never even looked at other girls, let alone worried about whether they had a dress to wear. At the hotel, Grace played her usual role: insecure and fragile. Caleb revolved around her, serving her food, pouring her drinks, even laughing indulgently when her eyes lit up at a tasty dish. That smile pricked my heart. “Chloe! Let’s have a toast!” A few classmates surrounded me. I wasn’t a big drinker, but I didn’t want to be a killjoy. Just as I raised the glass, a large hand snatched it away. “She can’t drink. I’ll take it for her.” Caleb downed it in one gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing, drawing cheers from the crowd. “Whoa, Caleb! Everyone wants to toast the Prom Queen. Are you gonna drink every single one?” the class president teased. “You’ll pass out!” Caleb smiled, eyes crinkling, shielding me behind him. “So what if I pass out? As long as my wife doesn’t touch a drop.” More hooting and hollering. The room was thick with the restless energy of youth. After the teachers left, things got wilder. Someone suggested Truth or Dare. Caleb lost the first few rounds. First punishment: Show his pinned contact. “Chloe” was right there at the top, followed by a red heart emoji. Second punishment: Show his photo gallery. It was full of me. My side profile sleeping on a desk, my hair flying while running on the track, my satisfied smile holding a bubble tea. Third punishment: Show his notes app. It was packed with details about me. Hates cilantro stems, loves strawberry flavor, cramps on day 1 of period, allergic to mangoes… There was even a note titled “How to handle Chloe when she’s mad: Hug first, talk later.” “That is so sweet!” The girls squealed, stomping their feet in envy. “But you guys aren’t going to the same college. Chloe is so pretty; what if someone steals her?” Caleb grinned confidently. “Who would dare? Besides, I already helped Chloe apply to a school near Harvard. She’ll be right under my nose. Right, wifey?” I forced a bitter smile. That was the plan. But now, thanks to Grace, my application was for a community college in the middle of nowhere. I glanced at Grace in the corner. Her face was pale, fingers knotted together in panic. I almost laughed. If she was so scared of getting caught, why did she do it? Just as I was about to speak, a distracted Grace lost the next round. Her punishment: Kiss the boy to her left. Unfortunately, the guy on her left was the class clown, known for… not being a looker. Grace’s eyes reddened instantly. She whispered, asking for a different punishment, but the crowd shouted her down. “Nope! Rules are rules!” Grace closed her eyes, trembling as she leaned in. Just as she was about to make contact, Caleb suddenly stood up, yanked the guy away, and kissed Grace himself. “Breathe,” he whispered. Chapter 2 The room went dead silent. I felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my heart, choking the life out of me. The kiss ended. Grace’s face was beet red. Caleb finally explained, “I just remembered, that was my seat earlier. I was on Grace’s left. Punishment complete.” The atmosphere was heavy with awkward silence. Everyone looked at me, their eyes filled with pity and secondhand embarrassment. I didn’t want to be a spectacle. The party was winding down anyway, so I stood up to leave. Walking out of the hotel, the night breeze hit my face, and I realized my cheeks were ice cold. “Chloe!” Caleb chased after me, grabbing my wrist. “I’m sorry. Are you mad?” His cautious expression made me want to laugh. “Why would I be mad?” “Just now…” he rushed to explain, sounding unusually panicked. “Grace didn’t want to kiss that guy. I was just helping her out. It was just a kiss, it doesn’t mean anything. Please don’t be mad.” “I’m not mad.” I pulled my hand back, smiling calmly. “From now on, you can kiss her however you want, for as long as you want. It has nothing to do with me.” Caleb froze, his face draining of color. “What… what does that mean?” I looked at him calmly. What else could it mean? It just meant I didn’t like him anymore. Whatever he did was no longer my concern. Just as I was about to say “let’s break up,” Grace ran out, eyes red and teary. “Chloe, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…” She bowed repeatedly, looking frail and pathetic in the wind, acting like I was some kind of monster. “Don’t be mad at Caleb. If you want to blame someone, blame me!” Caleb immediately supported her. “What are you doing? I already explained it to Chloe. She’s not mad.” I smiled, nodding along. “Right. I’m not mad.” Grace let out a breath, looking timid. “Th… then I’ll head out first.” Caleb grabbed her wrist. “Wait. It’s late. It’s not safe for you to go alone. I’ll drive you.” Grace’s eyes lit up, then she looked at me with feigned hesitation. “But… what about Chloe? We’re going in different directions.” “Don’t worry about her,” Caleb said naturally. “Her family driver will pick her up.” With that, he pulled Grace into his car. Before driving off, he rolled down the window. “Chloe, stay safe. Call me when you get home.” I stood there, watching his taillights disappear into the night. He forgot. My driver had a family emergency and took leave days ago. I told Caleb that. He used to remember every tiny detail about me. Now, he couldn’t even remember this. Rain started to fall. I stood at the hotel entrance, unable to get a cab. Eventually, I had to walk home in the rain. The night was dark, the road slippery. An electric scooter knocked me down halfway. My knee slammed into the pavement, blood mixing with rain. The rider fled without looking back. I limped the rest of the way. Three hours later, I finally got home. I cleaned and bandaged the wound myself. My phone lit up with a text from Caleb: [Home yet?] I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone, showered, and fell into a deep sleep. The next day, the doorbell wouldn’t stop ringing. I dragged my exhausted body to open it. Caleb stood there, looking anxious. “You’re home? Why didn’t you text back last night?” I turned and walked inside. “Got hurt. Slept early. Didn’t see it.” Caleb finally noticed the bandage on my leg. His brow furrowed. “How did that happen?” “Driver was on leave. Got hit by a scooter walking home.” Caleb froze. He remembered the driver now. Guilt washed over him. “Chloe, why didn’t you call me?” I looked up at him. “If I called, would you have come back for me?” “Of course.” “What if Grace had an issue at the same time? Would I still be your first choice?” Caleb hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Of course.” I smirked slightly and said nothing. Before, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Back then, I was his entire world. He noticed if I even frowned. Now, that single second of hesitation said everything. Caleb couldn’t tell if I was angry. Usually, I’d give him the silent treatment for days or demand to be coaxed. But now that I was still talking to him, he felt even more panicked. “Chloe, let’s go to the aquarium,” Caleb blurted out, his tone ingratiating, desperate to make amends. I shook my head. “Don’t want to.” “I already bought tickets.” He grabbed my hand, rubbing my wrist with his thumb like he used to when soothing me. “Come on. You’ve always wanted to see the orca show.” He half-coaxed, half-dragged me into the car. But when the door opened, I saw Grace in the back seat. “Chloe…” Grace greeted me timidly, twisting her skirt, looking like she was terrified of upsetting me. Caleb instinctively stepped in front of her, explaining, “I saw on her story that she wanted to go too, so I invited her.” I watched him shielding Grace and suddenly felt it was all a ridiculous joke. I said nothing and sat in the passenger seat. Chapter 3 All day, Caleb used the excuse that “Grace has never done this” to take her on every ride. He rode the carousel with her, buckled her in, and held her hand when she was scared. Tourists looked on with envy. “That couple is so sweet.” I followed behind them like a ghost, silent. The boy who once had eyes only for me was gone. Finally, we went to the orca show. The host selected random audience members for interaction. Originally, the camera landed on Caleb and me. But Grace looked at him with puppy eyes, so Caleb whispered to me, “Chloe, it’s Grace’s first time. Let her try, okay?” I didn’t speak, which he took as a yes. Caleb and Grace went up. One of the interactions was to kiss at the highest point of the orca’s jump for a photo. The host announced it, and Grace blushed. The crowd cheered. Caleb glanced at me, then didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the back of Grace’s head and kissed her. “Wow!” The crowd erupted. Sitting in the stands, I felt like an invisible hand was crushing my heart. If the first kiss was to save her from embarrassment, what was this one? After the show, Caleb tried to explain, but I cut him off. “I know. You didn’t want to waste everyone’s time.” Caleb froze, a wave of panic hitting him. At dusk, we went to the central stairs to watch the fireworks. Caleb wanted to use the fireworks—my favorite—to make it up to me. But an accident happened. A nearby firework launcher exploded, spraying sparks everywhere! Chaos erupted. In the shoving, I stumbled and was about to fall down the stairs! Caleb instinctively reached for me, but behind him, Grace screamed in terror. “Caleb! Help me!” He looked back once, then turned and ran to Grace without hesitation! I watched his retreating back as my heart tore in two. I tumbled down the stairs, trampled by the panicking crowd. A kind stranger helped me up. When Caleb returned, shielding Grace, I was covered in bruises and scrapes. “Chloe!” Caleb looked distressed, reaching to hug me. I dodged his hand. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “I’m fine. Take Grace home.” How could he be at ease? He told Grace to take a cab and insisted on taking me to the hospital. The doctor said I might have a concussion and needed observation. Caleb stayed by my side, refusing to leave. But as soon as I was admitted, Grace called. “Caleb… the power went out at my place… I’m scared…” Caleb frowned, looking at me hesitantly. I spoke calmly. “Go.” “Chloe, I…” “I’m fine. The nurse is here.” Caleb stood up. “I’ll be back soon.” He rushed out. Watching his back, I suddenly called out, “Caleb.” He turned. “Yeah?” I looked at him, remembering a long time ago. He was at a competition out of town. He heard my raspy voice on the phone, realized I had a fever, and forfeited the competition to fly back that night just to watch over me. Now, he was leaving me, injured, for another girl. For a second, I wanted to ask, “Do you still love me?” But the words felt meaningless. “Nothing. Go.” Whether he loved me or not, I didn’t care anymore. I was letting him go completely. Chapter 4 I stayed in the hospital for three days. During those three days, I saw seventeen posts from Grace. [Caleb took me for hot pot! (Photo: Caleb’s hand putting beef in her bowl)] [First time bungee jumping, so nervous~ (Photo: Caleb watching her tenderly, looking just like he used to look at me)] [Caleb says he’ll take good care of me since I have a cold (Photo: Caleb sitting by a bed, stirring porridge)] I scrolled past calmly. Maybe after hurting so many times, the heart just goes numb. The day I was discharged, I went to my usual high-end spa for a treatment. As I pushed the glass door open, a familiar voice called out, “Chloe?” Caleb stood at the front desk with a fidgety Grace. He looked flustered. “You’re out? Does it still hurt?” “I’m fine,” I said flatly, looking at Grace. Caleb sighed in relief and explained, “Grace has never been to a spa, so I brought her to try it out.” He paused. “Since you’re here, and I don’t know anything about this stuff, can you show her the ropes?” I didn’t want to make a scene in public, so I nodded. We went into a treatment room. The esthetician brought out my custom skincare set and started my facial. Grace watched enviously. “This stuff must be expensive. It’s nice being a rich girl. Unlike me, I’ve only ever used water to wash my face…” Caleb frowned. “Don’t be envious. I’ll buy it for you.” Grace waved her hands. “No, no, I don’t deserve such nice things…” “Nonsense,” Caleb said firmly. “You deserve the best.” I closed my eyes. “Give them another room,” I told the esthetician. “I want some quiet.” Caleb blinked. “I’ll pay for these products…” “No need. I’ll tell them to get her a set just like mine,” I said wearily. Finally, they left. After the treatment, I changed and went straight home without waiting for them. As soon as I got home, the door slammed open. “Chloe!” Caleb stormed in, face cold, grabbing my wrist. “What was in those products? Why is Grace’s face having an allergic reaction?!” His grip hurt. I was confused. “What?” “I told you I’m only taking care of her because she saved me!” Caleb suppressed his rage. “The person I love is you. If you have a problem, come at me. Why hurt her?” I looked at him in disbelief. “I didn’t hurt her. We used the same products. Why am I fine?” “That spa is owned by your family!” Caleb sneered. “It would take one word from you to tamper with her stuff.” My heart trembled violently. Is that the kind of person he thinks I am? I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Caleb took my silence for guilt and dragged me out. “What are you doing?!” I struggled. He didn’t speak, speeding until we reached Grace’s hospital room. Grace lay there, face covered in ointment, looking pitiful. “Apologize,” Caleb ordered. I looked at my red wrist, eyes stinging. Before, he’d be heartbroken if I lost a single hair. Now he treated me like this? “I did nothing wrong. I won’t apologize.” Grace quickly tried to smooth things over. “If Chloe doesn’t want to apologize, it’s fine… I’ll just be here for a few days…” Caleb got angrier. “Look at Grace, then look at yourself! How can you bully her over and over?” His gaze landed on my necklace. “Since you won’t apologize, give her that necklace as compensation.” I froze, touching the pendant. “…Do you remember what this is?” It was a token he gave me, promising to be “locked” to me forever. Now he wanted me to take it off and give it to her? Caleb had forgotten. “It’s just a necklace. I’ll buy you a better one.” “Grace is being generous not asking for an apology. You won’t even give up a gift?” I took a deep breath, ripped the necklace off, and threw it at Grace. “Take it.” Caleb, I’m giving you away too. I turned and left, never looking back.

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Thomas rejected the honors program spot for me. He gave it to Rena Quinn, the scholarship kid he supposedly couldn’t stand. When I told him we were over, he just took off his gold-rimmed glasses, polishing them with a deliberate slowness, completely unfazed. “Don’t forget, I voted for you in the campus ambassador poll, not her. That took some real pressure.” He spoke as if placating a child. “Rena’s family is dirt poor. That program is her only shot. Think about how many times I’ve gone after her for your sake over the years. Just consider this a way of making it even.” “Jealous again?” he sighed, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Once you marry into my family, you can have anything you want. Why lower yourself to her level?” I stared at his infuriatingly calm expression. “I said we’re breaking up. Did you not hear me?” For the first time, a frown creased his brow, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a confident smirk. “Fine. I’ll give you a week to cool off. I’ll win you back next week. Happy now?” He was so certain I couldn’t live without him. But he had no idea. I’d already received a full scholarship offer from Oxford University. My flight to England was in five days. 1 “You’re breaking up with Thomas Chase?” My best friend Chloe’s shriek blasted through the phone. “Ava, are you insane? You don’t just dump the ultimate catch like it’s nothing!” I held the phone away from my ear and leaned back against my headboard, scrolling through the campus message board. The pinned post at the top was in a blaring red font: [Thomas Chase Defends His Girl, Humiliates Rival Rena Quinn with Program Spot!] The comments were a spectacle. “LMAO, isn’t Rena the one who’s always acting so high and mighty, saying she despises the rich? Funny how she took the spot so fast.” “You don’t get it. This is a power move. Thomas is basically saying: ‘Take the money, shut your mouth, and stop bothering my Ava.’” “Exactly! Our Ava is a queen. That broke girl Rena is always pulling shady stuff behind her back. It’s about time someone put her in her place.” “Thomas is way too good to Ava. He spoils her rotten.” I read the comments, a wave of nausea churning in my stomach. They all thought Thomas was defending me. Only I knew the truth. That spot—the one I had pulled countless all-nighters for, the one I had poured my soul into earning—had been tossed away to someone else with a careless, “let’s call it even.” “Ava, are you even listening? Say something!” Chloe was practically hyperventilating. I opened Rena’s social media profile. Her latest post was from half an hour ago. No picture, just a single line of text: “A handout, I know. But I earned this.” I screenshotted it and sent it to Chloe. “See? That’s his explanation to me.” Silence on the other end. After a long pause, Chloe’s voice came back, strained. “…So he really gave the spot to Rena? But why? I thought he hated her.” “Every time she tried to sabotage you at school, wasn’t he the first one to jump in and shut her down?” Yes, why? I once believed he was on my side. I used to think the animosity was because he loved me, and so he loathed anyone who tried to hurt me. But it turned out that every public confrontation was just a prelude to a private, generous compensation. And I was the fool, the only one who had been kept in the dark, the only one whose feelings were real. “Chloe,” I said softly. “Yeah?” “Thomas and I are really over.” “There’s no misunderstanding.” I heard Chloe’s sharp intake of breath. I knew what she wanted to say—that Thomas’s family was powerful, that he doted on me, that he was the perfect boyfriend everyone envied, and that I shouldn’t be so rash. But they only saw what he wanted them to see. 2 The next morning, a giant Hermès box was delivered to my dorm room. My roommates let out a collective gasp. “Oh my god, it’s the latest collection! Ava, Thomas is spoiling you rotten!” “Seriously, I’m so full from all this public display of affection!” Tucked inside was a card with Thomas’s elegant, flowing script. “Cooling-off period. 144 hours left.” My roommates buzzed around me, their eyes filled with envy. In their world, I was a princess cherished by the heir to a fortune, the undisputed winner in this game of love. The irony was suffocating. He thought money could fix anything, could erase any hurt, including my trampled dignity and broken heart. I calmly took out my phone, snapped a picture of the bag that was still warm from its packaging, and opened a luxury resale app. Title: [Guilt Gift from the Ex. Brand new, box opened once. Make an offer.] Once it was posted, I sent the link to Chloe, asking her to keep an eye out for a serious buyer. Her call came instantly. “Ava, are you nuts? You’ll lose so much money selling it secondhand right after you got it!” “It’s not like I’m ever going to use it,” I said, indifferent. I cradled the phone on my shoulder as I dragged a pre-packed suitcase from the back of my closet. “Chloe, I’m flying to England in five days. I got the full ride to Oxford.” “What?” The line went dead silent. I could picture her jaw hitting the floor. “When did you even—” “I applied a while ago. As a backup plan.” I managed a small smile. It was probably the single best decision I had ever made for myself. As soon as I hung up, a message from Thomas popped up. “Did you get the gift? Why aren’t you answering? Don’t you like the color? I can have it exchanged if you want.” I didn’t bother replying, just muted his chat. I continued packing, methodically organizing my life into boxes and arranging for an international courier to pick them up. Just as I sealed the last box, my mom called. The moment I answered, her placating voice filled the line. “Ava, dear, did you have a fight with Thomas? He called me, you know, he’s very upset.” “Mom, we broke up.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” her voice shot up an octave. “Ava, how can you be so immature? Our family latching onto the Chases is the chance of a lifetime. It’s a blessing!” “Don’t be so willful. A boy with Thomas’s background willing to bend over backward to please you is already a huge compliment. Don’t get arrogant and throw this all away!” I took a deep breath, cutting her off. “Mom, what if I don’t want this ‘blessing’?” A long silence stretched over the line. Then, my dad snatched the phone. “You wouldn’t dare! Ava, we’ve worked our fingers to the bone to raise you, not for you to act like a spoiled brat! If you ruin this engagement, don’t bother coming home.” Click. He hung up. I stood there in the middle of my messy dorm room, clutching my phone, and suddenly felt an incredible sense of release. Fine. Let it all be severed. Clean breaks were the best. That evening, a confirmation email from Oxford University landed in my inbox. I stared at the words for a long time before carefully typing out my acceptance. The moment I hit send, a heavy weight lifted from my shoulders. Finally, I was escaping. 3 “My family’s having a dinner party tonight. My mom specifically asked for you to be there,” Thomas announced over the phone. “Your parents will be there too. It’s time we moved forward with our engagement. It took a lot of convincing on my part, so please don’t show up looking like you’re at a funeral.” I rolled my eyes. As if I cared about his stupid engagement. But then I remembered some important research papers I’d left at home. This was a good chance to have my parents bring them and to get everything over with in one go. “Fine,” I agreed. The Chase family villa was a blaze of light. Thomas’s parents sat at the head of the table, their attitude toward me a mix of detached politeness and cool disdain. Every other sentence was a subtle jab about my ‘humble’ background, a reminder that I wasn’t their equal. My own parents seemed completely oblivious to the condescension, just nodding and scraping, smiling inanely at the Chases. They even started putting me down to curry favor. “Our Ava, we’ve spoiled her, I’m afraid. She has a bit of a temper. I hope you’ll both be patient with her in the future.” “She’s so lucky to be marrying Thomas.” I sat there stiffly, the feeling of being scrutinized making my skin crawl. During the meal, Thomas’s mother brought up Rena, her tone casual. “Thomas, I heard you’ve been picking on a girl at your university, a Rena Quinn?” Her perfectly preserved face held a hint of disapproval, but her gaze drifted over to me, as if blaming me for her son lowering himself. “Mom, don’t listen to rumors,” Thomas said, setting down his wine glass. “I actually admire Rena. Her family’s got nothing, and she’s stubborn as a mule. I was just teasing her a bit. I made it up to her afterward.” I tuned them out, mechanically stuffing my face with lobster and abalone. Halfway through dinner, the butler escorted someone into the dining room. It was Rena. She stood awkwardly in the opulent room, wearing a faded dress that stuck out like a sore thumb. All the defiant pride she carried at school was gone, replaced by a timid, hunted look. Her wide, watery eyes darted toward Thomas, pleading for help. Thomas frowned, rubbing his temples. “Take her upstairs and find her something to wear,” he told the butler. When Rena returned, she was transformed. The dress was a limited-edition piece from one of the Chase family’s brands, and on her, it had a certain fragile, captivating charm. At the table, Thomas’s mother was warmer to Rena than she had been to me, her son’s actual girlfriend, all evening. “You must be Rena,” she said, taking her hand. “Thomas told me all about you. You’re a hard worker, your grades are excellent, and now you’ve secured a spot in that honors program. You’re a wonderful girl.” She announced that the Chase family would be funding Rena’s entire education. “If you ever need anything, you come to me. We Chases have the utmost respect for resilient young people like you, who pull themselves up by their bootstraps.” Rena was overwhelmed, her eyes welling with tears as she stammered her thanks. I knew exactly what this was. Thomas’s mother was using Rena to slap me in the face. She was showing me that even a penniless girl had more grit and value than I, the daughter of a comfortable middle-class family, did. I was the real parasite, the one trying to worm her way into their dynasty. I couldn’t stand to look at my parents’ fawning, sycophantic faces anymore. The nausea I’d been suppressing all evening threatened to boil over. I put down my fork, stood up, and took the file folder with my research papers from my mother’s hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well. I have to go.” Thomas shot up from his seat to stop me. “Ava!” 4 I turned and gave him one last, cold look. His arm froze in mid-air. Slowly, he let it fall. Without another glance back, I walked out of that suffocating cage. The late-night air was frigid, the wind stinging my cheeks as I walked alone down the empty street. But my mind was a reel of memories, playing back my time with Thomas against my will. I first met him at the art studio where I worked part-time. A difficult customer was tearing apart one of my paintings when Thomas appeared out of nowhere, a knight in shining armor who defused the situation with a few sharp words. He wore a crisp white shirt and stood bathed in light, looking like a prince. When he pursued me, he said he was tired of the shallow, artificial socialites in his circle. He said he loved how real and genuine I was. He called me the most unique girl he’d ever met. And I believed him. My family was middle-class, my parents ordinary professionals. Our worlds were galaxies apart. But I truly believed our love was real, a connection of souls that transcended class. Then Rena appeared. She was fiercely independent, scornful of wealth and power, and branded anyone close to Thomas as a corporate lackey—especially me, his girlfriend. The first time we went on a date after we got together, we were at a small café near campus. I was sketching him when Rena, wearing a waitress uniform, came over with our coffee. She shot me a contemptuous look and muttered, “Climbing the social ladder and forgetting where you came from. Disgusting.” Thomas wasn’t having it. He slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet. “What did you just say?”

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My whole class got sucked into a “Simp Battle Royale.” [Rule 1: All simps must die.] [Rule 2: Expose a simp to survive.] Upon hearing this, the class president immediately pointed at the drama club president. “I report her! Her boyfriend got caught cheating multiple times, and she forgave him every single time. I have the chat logs right here!” The drama club president looked shocked, opening her mouth to argue, but—pop—she instantly dropped dead. A golden “Immunity Token” materialized in the class president’s hand. Seeing this, chaos erupted. Everyone started pointing fingers, screaming accusations. The classroom turned into a bloodbath. I watched, heart pounding in my throat. Suddenly, my roommate’s ex-boyfriend raised his hand and pointed straight at me. “I report Leeann! She’s a huge simp too! She deserves to die!” 1. My heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about? I don’t even have a boyfriend! How can I be a simp?” But Brad, my roommate Jessica’s ex, glared at me with pure hatred. “I don’t care! I’m reporting her!” The system paused for a moment before pinging: [Reporter, please submit evidence.] Brad’s eyes widened in confusion. “Evidence? No one said I needed evidence!” The next second, Brad exploded. Literally. Blood splattered everywhere. Jessica screamed, a high-pitched wail of terror as she watched her ex turn into a red mist. System: [Reporters must provide evidence. False accusations result in immediate termination.] The room froze. People who were about to blindly accuse others slowly lowered their hands. Jessica stared at the spot where Brad used to be, dazed. I reached out to comfort her, but she slapped my hand away. “This is all your fault! If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t be dead!” Jessica screamed, her face twisted with hate. “We broke up because you told me to! And now he’s dead because of you!” “You ruined everything!” Her accusations hit me like a bucket of ice water. We were classmates. Jessica and I were roommates. Back then, she was the one constantly complaining about him to us. “Brad is so annoying! I don’t get what’s going on with him and his ex!” “I checked his phone yesterday. He’s liking all her posts again.” “No DMs, but who knows if he deleted them?” We’d try to offer advice, but she’d instantly defend him. “But I know Brad. He’s a good guy deep down. Nothing happened.” After a few rounds of this, we learned to shut up. But two days later, she’d be throwing her phone again. “Ugh! He met up with his ex yesterday!” “He said it was just lunch, nothing else.” “Should I believe him?” Knowing her pattern, we stayed silent. Every time she complained, she’d turn around and make up with him, making us look like the bad guys for doubting their “true love.” But silence wasn’t enough for her. She grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at her. “Leeann, tell me! Should I break up with him?” I saw she was still on a voice call with Brad. I didn’t dare say anything definitive. “I don’t know… it’s between you two. Just think it over carefully.” “Think it over?” Brad’s furious voice boomed from the phone. “Think about what? Breaking up?” “Leeann, you snake! You just can’t stand to see other people happy!” “You’d love it if we broke up, wouldn’t you?” I was screaming internally. I never said break up! I said think about it! Jessica couldn’t win the argument with him, so she hung up and cried all night. Our dorm took turns comforting her until dawn. The next day, we all looked like zombies with dark circles under our eyes. And Jessica? She put on a full face of makeup and went on a date with him. We were speechless. But then, the cycle repeated. Jessica came back broken again. She was fine during the day, but the moment the clock struck midnight, the waterworks started. She cried for a month. None of us slept. Eventually, we learned Brad dumped her to chase his ex again. He failed, obviously. Now all three of them were miserable. But Jessica didn’t blame Brad. She blamed us for the breakup. She probably told Brad we forced her to break up with him. That’s why Brad hated me enough to try and kill me to save himself. And now Jessica was screaming, “You killed my boyfriend! You pay for this!” I looked at her, my heart turning cold. If she was going to be ruthless, so was I. I spoke to the System. “I report Jessica. Her boyfriend was emotionally cheating with his ex, and she knew but pretended not to see it.” “Even after he dumped her, she tried to get back together.” “Check her chat logs with him. It’s all there.” Under her terrified gaze, I smiled. “I won’t tell you to break up this time.” “Go be with him in hell. Forever.” System: [Audit passed.] In a flash, Jessica dropped dead. 2. A golden Immunity Token appeared in my hand. I looked around. Out of forty students, less than twenty were left. Some died for being simps. Others died for failing to report one. Listening to the reasons, I realized my classmates’ love lives were a mess. Amidst the carnage, I gripped my token tight. In this game, being a gossip queen was a survival skill. Being out of the loop was deadly. Take Sarah, the rich girl who spent every holiday traveling and ignored everyone. She was panicking. She stood there, teeth clenched, thinking hard. Finally, she spoke up. “I report myself! I’m a simp!” “I always fall for deadbeats, spend all my money on them, and get cheated on.” “Even after breaking up, I beg them to come back.” Sarah pulled out her bank transfer records. “Here’s the proof!” Everyone froze. Is she suicidal? Seeing our confusion, Sarah smiled nervously. “There’s a bug, don’t you see?” “Simps must die. But reporting a simp grants life.” “If I report myself, the merit cancels out the sin, right? I survive!” The System paused, seemingly processing this logic. In the terrifying silence, several others who couldn’t find anyone to report followed her lead and reported themselves. A second later, they all—including Sarah—exploded. System: [Repeating Rule 1: All simps must die. Immediately.] Boom. Only fifteen people left. We looked at each other in horror. Once identified as a simp, it was instant death. No loopholes. 3. The remaining fifteen of us were ushered into the next round. My Immunity Token vanished. System: [Round 2: Multiple Choice.] [Identify which of the following statements indicates a true breakup.] [A. We’re done. I will never get back with him. If I take him back, I’m a dog.] [B. This time it’s real. Trust me. This is absolutely the last time. We are completely over.] [C. We broke up. He said he doesn’t love me anymore.] [Please choose.] The class president, Chloe, spoke first. “Easy. ‘Shortest answer is usually right.’ It’s C. Plus, C sounds dead inside. Probably real.” The vice president, Mark, disagreed. “This isn’t the SATs, Chloe. No patterns here.” “I think it’s B. The tone is so firm. Definitely real.” The academic decathlon winner, David, shrugged. “I could argue A is the most sincere because it’s the longest. I choose A.” Bella, the class beauty with the most dating experience, laughed. “At a time like this, just look at the content.” “What do you mean?” Chloe frowned. Bella didn’t answer. She turned to the System. “Can I choose now?” System: [Yes.] Bella said something confidently. We saw her lips move, but no sound came out. The System muted her. We couldn’t cheat by copying. [Answer correct. Proceed to next level.] Bella vanished. That was correct? The rest of us exchanged glances. “What did she pick?” Mark asked. No one knew. The gym jock, Mike, waved his hand. “There are only three options. Let’s just brute force it.” “At worst, two people die. The rest survive.” Easy to say, but who volunteers to be the canary in the coal mine? Silence. Mike grit his teeth. “Nobody? Fine.” He turned to a quiet kid in the corner, Tom. “You go.” Tom was poor and Mike bullied him often. Usually, Mike would pay him off afterwards, so Tom endured it. “If you try it, I’ll pay for your sister’s college tuition,” Mike promised. Tom’s eyes lit up. He hesitated. His sister was in high school. College was expensive. Mike was rich. “Five seconds,” Mike said coldly. “If you don’t, I’ll sue you for all the money I gave you before.” Carrot and stick. Tom turned pale. He couldn’t pay that back. “Five, four, three…” “I’ll do it!” Tom cried. “I choose C.” “The simpler the statement, the heavier the meaning. I think C is right.” He summoned the System. His lips moved silently. System: [Answer incorrect. Immediate termination.] Tom’s eyes bulged in terror. He looked at Mike one last time, hoping he’d keep his promise. Then he was gone. Mike patted his chest, relieved it wasn’t him. He forced another student to try. That student picked A. “The longest one has the most detail!” System: [Incorrect.] Dead. Mike grinned. “So the answer is B.” 4. He summoned the System with total confidence. “I choose.” He spoke his answer. To everyone’s shock, the System boomed: [Answer incorrect. Immediate termination.] Mike exploded. “Impossible!” Chloe screamed. “We tried all three options!” David was sweating bullets. “They were muted when they chose.” “Maybe one of them lied about what option they picked? Maybe they tried to trick us?” “We might have been played.” Panic set in. According to David, everyone before us was unreliable. Only Mike seemed honest because he thought he had the answer key. So B is definitely wrong. It’s still a 50/50 shot between A and C. David wanted to force more people to test, but the muting made it useless. We’d never know what they actually picked. We had to guess blind. Mark frowned. “Screw it. I’m picking.” Several others followed suit, unwilling to overthink it. They all died. Chloe looked confused. “This doesn’t make sense. Statistically, someone should have picked the right one by luck.” She lowered her head, thinking. Suddenly, her brow cleared. “I know.” She spoke to the System. [Answer correct. Proceed to next level.] Chloe vanished. Watching her leave, I remembered Bella’s words: “Just look at the content.” I finally understood. “System, I’m ready to choose.”

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I ran into Alex, a scholarship student from my year, working a part-time shift at the campus mail center while I was picking up a package. We started chatting, and when he found out my Black Friday haul cost over twenty thousand dollars, he just snapped. “I’ve never even seen that much money in my entire life! And you just… spend it?” “Did your mother send you here to get an education or to blow her fortune?” He snatched the package out of my hand and physically blocked the exit. “You need to return all of it! Now! Kids like you have no idea how hard adults work for their money! If you’re this wasteful now, what man is ever going to be able to afford you?” His bizarre, accusatory tone was so absurd I had to laugh. “I’m spending my mom’s money. What’s that got to do with you?” “What’s it got to do with me?” he shot back, his face a mask of self-righteousness. “I’m dating your mother. And every cent you spend… is our future marital property!” I froze. But… isn’t my mom a lesbian? When did she start liking men? 1 Alex was still ranting, his voice rising with indignation. “I know you’re young, you don’t understand real hardship! But I’m not like you. I had to grow up fast, and I know better than anyone how tough your mom has it!” He took a step closer, spittle flying from his lips. “Twenty. Thousand. Dollars! Gone with a click of a button. Do you have any idea how many fake smiles, how many drinks, how many sleepless nights she endures to make that kind of money? The world doesn’t see the struggles of a single woman building an empire, but you’re her daughter! Can’t you have a little empathy?” Seeing his pained, heartbroken expression, I almost burst out laughing again. Never mind that the thirty thousand dollars I get every month is an allowance my mom practically forces on me. For my eighteenth birthday two years ago, I casually mentioned wanting a car that cost nearly two hundred thousand dollars, and she didn’t even blink before saying yes. My mom’s favorite line is, “Honey, I make money so fast I was worried I’d have no one to help me spend it. That’s why I had you, my little helper.” How we spend our money is our business. When did it become a stranger’s place to lecture me? “Pick it up.” I stared at the package Alex had thrown on the floor, my brow furrowed. “Willful destruction of property is a crime. If you touch my things again, I’m calling the police.” “Hah!” He wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. In fact, he doubled down. “You little brat. I try to talk some sense into you, and it goes in one ear and out the other, doesn’t it?” He lunged forward and grabbed my arm, his voice laced with menace. “I’m warning you! Your mom and I are getting married soon! Legally, I’ll be your stepfather! And as your parent, I am ordering you to return every last piece of this junk! Right now! Or else…” I scoffed, knocking his pointing finger away with my package. “You’re so eager to be my dad. Do you even know my mother’s full name?” Alex crossed his arms, oozing confidence. “Eleanor Vance. Chairman of the Vance Group. Made her fortune in fashion. Who doesn’t know that? And I also know your real father died young, and she raised you all by herself, through thick and thin! Eleanor told me all of this herself! What, you don’t believe me?” Believe him? Yeah, right. Everything he just said was the simplified, bullshit version of my life I’d scribbled on my school admission forms to save time. He must have seen it when he was helping our advisor organize student files. I’d invented the “dead father” story to avoid the endless questions that came with being an IVF baby. I never thought someone would use it against me. It was clear Alex’s delusion didn’t start today. Class was about to start, and I had no more patience for this. I bent down, picked up my package, and turned to leave. Behind me, I heard him on the phone. “Yes! It’s me! I want you to freeze all the bank accounts under Mia Vance’s name! That’s right, all of them! Let’s see if we can’t teach her a lesson today!” I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my brain. He’s watched one too many cheesy TikTok dramas and thinks he’s a CEO. The guy was losing his mind. But just as my foot was about to cross the mail center’s threshold, my phone buzzed violently in my pocket. A sense of dread washed over me. I pulled it out. Glowing on the screen was an urgent notification from my bank— 2 I tried to school my features, to hide the flicker of shock that shot through me as I read the “ACCOUNT FROZEN” notification, but Alex saw it. “So? You see what I’m capable of now?” he gloated. “I told you, Eleanor and I are very close! I don’t care if you’re her daughter. If you disrespect me, she won’t let it slide. How about this—” He paused for dramatic effect, then magnanimously waved his phone. “Apologize to me. Right here, in front of everyone. Admit you were wrong to talk back to an elder. Then, return everything you bought on Black Friday and transfer the refunds to my account. Think of it as a gesture of goodwill. A sign of respect.” “Do that, and I’ll have Eleanor unfreeze your accounts. What do you say?” The mail center was packed during the lunch rush, and our little drama had drawn a crowd. “Wow, so that’s what those female execs are into! That guy’s so lucky. Lands a sugar mama before he even graduates. He just skipped decades of the corporate ladder!” “Well, Alex’s poor, but he’s good-looking and knows how to talk. Maybe after all these years alone, that’s what Mia’s mom is into!” “But the girl looks like she has no idea what’s going on.” “That’s the point, isn’t it? Mom’s new boy toy is her daughter’s classmate. Of course she’d keep it a secret!” A guy who seemed to be friends with Alex nudged him, a sly grin on his face. “Nice one, man! Freezing your stepdaughter’s accounts just like that? You’ve got the power in that family! Guess we should start calling you Mr. Vance, huh?” Feeling the hostile, gossiping stares all around me, I let out a cold laugh and pointed at the loudest hecklers. “Slander and defamation are crimes. Do you need me to call the Vance Group’s legal team to come give you a little lesson on the law?” The chatter died instantly. The faces of the guys who’d been speaking went pale. Alex sighed dramatically. “Mia, I didn’t want to make a scene. But—” His tone shifted, becoming a lecture. “I can’t just stand by and watch you fall into the trap of consumerism! We’re about to be a family. You need to start thinking about—” WHAM! Before he could finish, the cardboard box in my hand connected squarely with his face. “Family? Get over yourself! My mother could be blind and she still wouldn’t look twice at you!” “Hey, what’s your problem? That’s too far!” “Even if you don’t like your stepfather, you can’t deny your mom the right to be happy!” My actions had reignited the crowd that had just been silenced. Just then, the warning bell for class rang. I pulled out my phone. “I didn’t want to have to prove anything, but I don’t have time for this! Everyone here who backed him up today, I’ll be holding every single one of you accountable.” Ignoring their sudden looks of alarm, I dialed my mom, who was on a business trip in Europe. Ring… ring… No answer. I hung up and dialed again. Still no answer. I frowned. The onlookers, who had been about to scatter, now hesitated. I tried a third time, but all I got was the cold, robotic voicemail prompt. Alex smirked, slowly pulling out his own phone. “Looks like Eleanor’s busy. No problem. I’ll give her a try. She told me she has a special alert for my number. She always picks up for me, no matter what.” With all eyes on him, he made the call. It connected instantly. He put it on speaker, and a woman’s slightly rushed voice came through the receiver. “Hey, Alex, what’s up? I’m in a meeting, make it quick.” 3 Even after my lecture ended, I was still replaying that phone call in my head. The woman’s voice and tone were eerily similar to my mom’s. Anyone who wasn’t intimately familiar with her habits would have been fooled into thinking it was Eleanor Vance, CEO of the Vance Group. But I knew better. When my mom is overseas, she answers every call in English. It’s an instinct ingrained from years of international business. That woman, however, had spoken English with a stilted, unnatural cadence, and she lacked the sharp, decisive energy my mom always has. So who was this woman Alex claimed he was going to marry? And was the sudden freeze on my accounts really connected to him? Back in my dorm, I forced myself to calm down and tried my mom’s number again. Still nothing. I ended up leaving her a long, rambling voicemail, explaining everything that had happened at the mail center and begging her to call me back as soon as possible. Agitated, I opened my laptop to work on my study abroad application, hoping to distract myself. But just as I logged into the university’s system, my phone rang. My heart leaped, but it wasn’t my mom. It was a campus number I recognized—Professor Davis, the advisor for my exchange program. “Mia,” she said, her voice tinged with confusion. “I just received a call. Someone claiming to be your father submitted a request to withdraw your application. I just wanted to check in with you, has something come up at home?” When I got to her office, I found a familiar, unwelcome figure already there. “Alex! What is wrong with you?” He just shrugged, completely unbothered, and addressed Professor Davis with a somber, righteous tone. “I’m currently dating Mia’s mother. That makes me her stepfather. I have the right to withdraw her application for the exchange program. My reason is—” He pulled out his phone and played a security video from the mail center, showing me hitting him with the box. “I believe my stepdaughter is emotionally unstable and is not currently fit to study abroad.” My vision tunneled. “Professor, don’t listen to him! He has nothing to do with me or my mother! My mom would never agree to this!” “Mia!” Alex turned to me, his face a picture of weary disappointment. “You saw it yourself this afternoon. I’m the only one who can get through to your mother. Why are you being so stubborn?” Professor Davis looked from me to Alex, her brow furrowed. “Mr. Alex, you claim to be Mia’s stepfather and to be representing Ms. Vance’s wishes. Do you have any proof? A marriage certificate, perhaps? Or a signed letter of authorization from Ms. Vance?” Alex’s smile faltered for a split second before he recovered. “Professor, Eleanor and I are about to get married. It’s just a matter of time. As her future husband, I’m concerned about her child’s well-being. Is that so wrong? We’ll provide the official documentation after the wedding.” “Without legal proof, based solely on your word, we cannot accept this request,” Professor Davis said, her tone firming. “Mia’s application process will continue as planned. And please, refrain from interfering in her academic affairs in a parental capacity again.” Alex’s face darkened. He shot me a venomous glare. “You’re just determined to do this the hard way, aren’t you? You’re going to regret this, Mia.”

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I decided to fly across two states to surprise my online boyfriend. Instead, I got the surprise, hiding behind a plastic ficus at a loud sports bar, listening to him talk to his friends. “What good is a hot voice if she won’t even send a real picture?” he said, his voice dripping with scorn. “She’s probably a total dog.” A wave of laughter. “If that campus queen hadn’t curved me, I wouldn’t be wasting my time sliding into some rando’s DMs.” “And get this,” he continued, “on top of being ugly, she’s thirsty as hell. Demanded I send a pic to ‘verify the goods’ before we even met.” One of his friends snickered. “No way. You actually send one?” My boyfriend—Ryan—let out a smug grunt. “Yeah. But it wasn’t mine. It was Liam’s.” A collective “Whoa” went around the table. “Your roommate? The guy you said was packing, like, eight inches? For real?” “Dead serious. Why would I lie about that?” Ryan took a drag from his vape, blowing a cloud of sickly-sweet smoke toward the ceiling. “Liam’s a real one. Knew I didn’t want to send my own, so he volunteered to be my, like… my dating stand-in.” A beat of silence, then the table erupted in howling laughter. I laughed, too, a silent, bitter thing. I’d heard of stunt doubles, body doubles. A “dating stand-in” was a new one. Three minutes. That’s all I needed. Three minutes, and I was going to find out everything about this man. 1 I was a good girl. Sweet, considerate, polite. Optimistic, cheerful, a diligent student. Yeah, right. That was the character I played for my parents and their friends. The real me… I was rebellious and sharp-tongued, with a mind that ran wild. I held a grudge like it was a winning lottery ticket, and you really didn’t want to get on my bad side. And I was hungry. In every sense of the word. The summer after high school graduation was a blur of scrolling through TikTok, my thumb swiping past an endless buffet of beautiful men. Lean athletes, sunny-faced pretty boys, cold, brooding grad students—all of them liked, all of them saved to a private collection. Looking turned into wanting. Wanting turned into doing. So, I got myself a boyfriend online. Ryan. A year older, already in college. According to his profile, he was six-foot-two, with shoulders you could build a house on and abs so defined you could do laundry on them. And most importantly: eight inches. Finding a guy like that felt like winning the jackpot. I was on cloud nine. The craziest part? He went to the same university I’d just been accepted to. It felt like fate, like the universe was writing us a love story. He, of course, had no idea. I kept it a secret, planning a huge surprise for the first week of school. To maintain the mystery, I never sent him a single photo that showed my face. Just artsy shots of my hands, my shadow, the back of my head. This drove him crazy. He’d whine over the phone, his voice all pouty, saying I wasn’t being “real” with him. His hometown was just a short bus ride from mine, less than an hour away. So, after weeks of him complaining, I decided to close the distance myself. 2 To his credit, Ryan was great about giving me a sense of security. He’d check in constantly, even sending me the name of the bar where he was hanging out with his friends. It saved me the trouble of having to trick it out of him. I followed the GPS on my phone, the pulsing blue dot leading me straight to a crowded sports bar called “The Dugout.” Dozens of tables were crammed onto a sticky patio, but I spotted him instantly. He was even better-looking in person. It was the height of summer, and the air was thick and hot. A warm breeze blew across the patio, and I could feel my cheeks flush. I took a deep breath, ready to walk over. That’s when I heard it. Ryan slammed his beer mug on the table, his expression a mask of derision. “What good is a hot voice if she won’t even send a real picture? She’s probably a total dog!” My feet froze to the pavement. The blush on my cheeks evaporated, replaced by an icy chill. Then he kept going. “It’s just for fun, anyway. If the campus queen hadn’t curved me, I wouldn’t be wasting my time.” “And get this,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially, “on top of being ugly, she’s thirsty as hell. Demanded I send her a pic.” I bit my lip, my fists clenching at my sides. He was the one who bragged about his size, asking me if I wanted to see. Of course I said yes. Who wouldn’t? But now, in his version of the story, I was the desperate one. Amid the jeers, someone asked the question. “No way. You actually send one?” Ryan grunted, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah. But it wasn’t mine. It was Liam’s.” A chorus of “dude, no way” filled the air. “Your roommate? The guy you said was packing, like, eight inches? For real?” Ryan nodded. “Dead serious. Why would I lie?” He took another swig of beer. “Liam’s a real one. Saw I didn’t want to do it and offered to be my, uh… my dating stand-in.” The table was quiet for a second, processing this, before they all burst into roaring laughter. “I can’t even! So, this whole time, she thinks she’s talking to you, but she’s really getting off on you plus… one other thing?” Another round of hoots and hollers. Ryan’s brow furrowed. “It’s not a ‘relationship.’ It’s just messing around. She’s basically a puppy on a leash. The second the semester starts, I’m ghosting her ugly ass.” By then, the words didn’t even sting. My mind was completely consumed by the image that had landed in my DMs a week ago. An image of shocking, breathtaking perfection. What was his name again? Oh, right. Liam. 3 On the bus ride home, I started scrolling through Ryan’s Instagram. It was a monument to his own ego—a hundred photos of himself, and not a single one of anyone else. I sighed. Looks like I’d have to wait until school started to see what this Liam character actually looked like. I mourned this fact for about a second before opening TikTok to scroll through my collection of hot guys. As the bus pulled into the station, I swiped past a campus interview video. The title was “Who’s Your Campus Crush?” I wasn’t really interested and was about to scroll on. But then I heard the name: “Liam.” The automated voice announced my stop. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, turning the volume on my earbuds all the way up. I played it back three times just to be sure. I hadn’t misheard. And the university name was a match. My mind immediately flashed back to that photo… Campus crush Liam. He had a wild side, didn’t he? 4 As the start of the semester got closer, Ryan grew more and more distant. My texts would sit on “read” for days. I gritted my teeth. If I didn’t still need him for something, I would have blocked him weeks ago. That night, staring at our one-sided text history, I decided to send one last, desperate-looking sticker. This time, he replied almost instantly. “Hey, look, I don’t think this is working out. We can be friends, but I don’t think we should be… you know.” I was lying on my bed, legs crossed in the air, a sheet mask clinging to my face. I saw the message and my eyes lit up. It was finally happening! A grin spread across my face as I typed. “Why? Did I do something wrong? ” His reply was textbook. “No, don’t even think that. It’s me.” I rolled my eyes. Could he be any more cliché? After silently roasting him, I put my plan into motion. “You don’t have to spare my feelings. I know I’m not good enough for you. You deserve someone amazing. I wish you all the best.” I could practically feel his ego inflating through the phone. His guilt and vanity were at war. After a moment, he replied. “You’re a great girl, Zoe. Be more confident. Seriously, I’m the one who’s sorry.” Then, the magic words: “If there’s anything you want, just ask. I’ll make it happen.” My heart leaped. I ripped the mask off my face, sat bolt upright, and hit the call button. He picked up. I sniffled for effect, letting a little sob creep into my voice. “You really mean… anything?” “Yeah, of course,” he said, his voice thick with sincerity. “I kind of figured you weren’t super confident about your looks, and that’s okay, I don’t care about that stuff. If you want to meet up, I can drive down right now…” “Then set me up with a new boyfriend.” I cut him off. I didn’t have the patience for his self-serving monologue. He went silent. Three seconds later, he finally managed a single word: “Huh?” 5 I let out a long, theatrical sigh. “Ryan, the second I saw your pictures, I knew we could never be a real thing.” “You’re so handsome. How could a guy like you ever fall for a plain girl like me? Being your friend is more than I could ever ask for.” Whatever anger he might have been feeling instantly dissolved, replaced by a fresh wave of pity and self-satisfaction. “Zoe, don’t say that about yourself,” he said, his voice earnest. “You’re great. I… I’ll set you up with my roommate. How about that?” “He’s a good-looking guy, too. Tons of girls on campus are after him, but he turns them all down.” “I think it means he doesn’t just care about looks,” Ryan added, selling it hard. “You two should talk. Maybe you’ll hit it off.” I paused for a moment, then let out another soft sigh. “Okay… I guess I can try.” Then, as if it were an afterthought, I asked, “So, what’s his name?” “Liam. His name is Liam.” Bingo. I hid a triumphant smile, schooling my voice to sound hesitant and small. “Okay. Well, can you send me his contact? I’ll add him.” “And Ryan? Thank you.” He chuckled, sounding relieved. “Hey, what are friends for?” 6 Ten minutes later, Liam and I were connected. I immediately clicked on his profile, my heart pounding. His feed was completely blank. His profile picture was the generic default icon. It was like a brand-new account. Was Ryan messing with me? Just as the suspicion took root, a series of notifications popped up. “Hi, Zoe. I’m Liam.” “Ryan said he was introducing you to me. As a potential boyfriend.” “I’ve actually been thinking about getting into a relationship recently, so I think we could give it a try.” “But I’m worried I might not be your type. I’ll send you some photos first. You can decide if you want to move forward after you see them.” I bit my lower lip, my finger hovering over the screen. I held my breath and tapped on the first image. My pupils dilated. If a normal handsome guy made my heart flutter, Liam, even in a static photo, was enough to make me dizzy. He was breathtaking. I squealed and kicked my feet against my mattress like a teenager. Just then, a text from Ryan came through. “Hey, so Liam isn’t the easiest guy to get along with. He’s kind of cold to everyone, a total loner. Don’t get discouraged if he’s not super responsive. You gotta be proactive.” Hmm? I looked back at the new set of pictures Liam had just sent. All of them shirtless, showcasing a perfectly sculpted torso. Cold? A loner? Because from where I was sitting, if this guy was a peacock, his tail feathers were spread so wide they were about to snap. 7 I was so busy saving every single one of Liam’s pictures to my phone that I forgot to reply. He couldn’t stand the silence. “You don’t like them?” “Maybe it was a bad angle. Everyone says I look better in person. How about we meet up? I can come to you.” I raised an eyebrow. He was eager, wasn’t he? I’d read online that when you finally meet your online love in person, things can move incredibly fast. Some people even ended up in bed on the first day… I wasn’t quite ready for that. As I was lost in thought, my finger accidentally tapped open my “hidden” album. There was only one photo in it. Ahem. My face felt hot. My mouth was suddenly very dry. I poured myself a glass of ice water before typing a reply. “No, I like them. You’re very handsome.” “We don’t have to rush to meet. We’re actually going to be at the same school. I just got accepted. We’ll see each other on campus in a few days.” After I sent that, the chat went quiet for a moment. Then, my phone started vibrating. I cleared my throat before answering, pitching my voice a little higher than usual. “Hello?” A deep, lazy voice flowed through the speaker and straight into my ear. “Hey. It’s Liam.” My heart skipped a beat. I touched my burning earlobe and whispered, “I know.” “So,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Are we boyfriend and girlfriend now?” I countered with my own question. “But you don’t even know what I look like. What if I’m ugly? Will you be disappointed?” “No,” he said, without a single hesitation. My cheeks puffed out. That’s what Ryan had said, too. And look how that turned out. Sensing my silence, Liam spoke again, his voice softer this time. “Zoe, I don’t want to lie to you. The truth is… I’ve seen you before.” What? Seen me before? Where? A guy who looked like him? I would have remembered. As my mind raced, Liam continued. “The reason I was so eager to lock things down is because I know you went to his city a few days ago. I’m pretty sure you went there to see Ryan.” I was even more confused. “He didn’t even know I was there. How could you know?” There was a brief pause on his end. “Because,” he said quietly, “he’s been searching for you all over the internet.” 8 Liam sent me a link. I frowned and clicked on it. It led to an Instagram post with a slightly blurry photo. In it, I was in the back of a taxi, my forehead pressed against the cool glass, the city’s neon lights painting streaks across my face. It had a kind of lonely beauty. The caption read: “URGENT – HELP ME FIND THIS GIRL. Saw her tonight, July 7th, near The Dugout in downtown. She’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever seen. I tried to run after her taxi but couldn’t catch up. If anyone knows who this is, please help me out. I’ll be your servant for life!” Seeing that last line, I let out a snort of laughter. I glanced at my calendar. One week until move-in day. This was going to be fun.

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My entire senior class respawned to the days before the college entrance exam—the SATs. Everyone’s eyes lit up. They memorized the answers like zealots and, sure enough, every single one of them scored a near-perfect 1580 or higher. Everyone except me. I stared at the slip of paper in my hand. “650.” My throat tightened. Even this score… was still too high. 01 The day the scores were released, the classroom was buzzing like a beehive. Everyone crowded around the bulletin board. “Zara, are you blind? You got a 650!” The class president shouted it from the front row, sparking a wave of laughter. “How can someone actually get dumber over time?” “Seriously, the whole class is improving, and she’s dragging the average down to hell!” I kept my head down, feeling the mocking gazes pricking me from all directions. I was used to it. In this trashy high school, my genuine love for learning made me a freak. But this time, it was different. Out of a maximum 1600, nearly half the class scored above 1500. We swept the state rankings, taking the valedictorian spot for the entire city and state. This wasn’t a miracle. It was a glitch. The entire class had been sent back in time to before the exam. The moment they respawned, everyone went crazy memorizing the questions and answers. Even Lucas, the class delinquent who usually struggled to spell his own name, scored high enough for the Ivy League. Our class became a city-wide sensation, the poster children for academic excellence. Our homeroom teacher wept openly, thinking his teaching methods had finally paid off. But we all knew the truth—anyone can memorize an answer key. But only me… “Did you get your head caught in a door? You had the answers and couldn’t even break 700?” Jessica, the class queen bee, slammed her test paper onto my desk. Usually, I beat her in everything except looks. Finally, she had her moment. Seeing no reaction from me, she leaned in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you want me to tutor you? Oh wait, you wouldn’t understand it anyway.” “No thanks,” I said, folding my paper and stuffing it into my bag. “I’m actually pretty happy with this score.” I calculated this 650 three times to make sure I got it exactly right. They laughed even harder. They didn’t know my backpack was already filled with glue. My test paper was now a wrinkled, sticky mess. … Laugh all you want. Laugh louder. I wonder if you’ll still be laughing when you realize those memorized answers are going to cost you your lives. 02 The next afternoon, the graduation ceremony began on schedule. The lights in the auditorium were aggressively bright. The “high achievers” in the front rows were loud and arrogant. “I wrote a ten-page acceptance speech!” “Does my hair look good for the photos later?” “Why haven’t Harvard and Yale called me begging yet?” I sat silently in the back corner, the designated “loser zone.” It was coming. It was about to start. On stage, the principal was still giving his speech, but the corners of his mouth had split all the way to his ears. With every word he spoke, dark red blood dripped from his chin. No one in the audience noticed. “…Congratulations on successfully completing your exams. Today, we have special rewards for our outstanding students.” I looked down at my transcript—650. Third from the last in the class. I had meticulously calculated this score based on last life’s results. I deliberately filled in wrong bubbles for every subject and wrote only three lines for the essay. Still, it was higher than I hoped. I glanced at the guy who scored 600, the second to last. Liam. A “simple-minded jock” who was ostracized by the class and missed out on the answer key after respawning. Now that is true score control talent! Suddenly, the principal spoke. “First, will all students who scored above 1550 please come to the stage to receive your awards!” A distorted piano melody began to play over the speakers, sounding like a nursery rhyme being strangled. Jason, the study rep in the first row, stood up. His back was straight, his uniform pressed to perfection. The first state valedictorian in our school’s 100-year history. He walked up the stairs, a smug smile plastered on his face, already envisioning his elite university future. And then— Snap. His neck suddenly twisted. Once. Twice. Three times. The sound of bone shattering was crisp, exploding in everyone’s ears. His head rotated 720 degrees before settling at a gruesome angle—face backward, body forward. The auditorium erupted in screams. “Is this… part of the show?” “Maybe it’s special effects…” Before anyone could process it, the principal spoke again. “Awards distributed,” his voice remained gentle. “Next, students with scores above 1500, please come to the stage.” Hearing their names, several students walked toward the stage. Under the deathly spotlight, each performed their own self-destruct sequence, twisting like pretzels. When blood splattered onto the faces of the front row, realization finally hit. This graduation ceremony wasn’t normal. I sat calmly in the back, watching the familiar scene unfold with a cold sneer. In my past life, the whole class chose to respawn immediately after the exam. Only I stayed behind long enough to witness this graduation ceremony—a massacre ordered by test scores. On the graduation banner, the words “Bright Future” were slowly being dyed dark red. 03 Even the dumbest person could figure it out now. The class ranking was the death order. From high to low, no one escapes. Since most of our class had cheated their way to the top, wailing filled the air. “Why did I have to score so high?!” “Sob… can I still go to Stanford…” “I must be dreaming! I have to be!” But reality was ruthless. Those who went up died. Those who refused were dragged up by the surrounding teachers and died anyway. Someone tried to flee the auditorium, but the moment they touched the sunlight outside, they spontaneously combusted. In an instant, corpses littered the floor. Watching the people who had just mocked me turn into meat sacks, I couldn’t help but scoff. They deserved it. Suddenly, a low male voice came from beside me. “You tanked your score on purpose, didn’t you?” I was surprised. I turned to meet a pair of calm eyes—Caleb. He scored 680 this time, just on the edge of the “loser zone.” But he was planning to study abroad anyway, so he just breezed through the test. “What makes you say that?” I asked. “I’m your deskmate. I know your level better than anyone.” True. With my normal ability, scoring 1450+ was no problem. Which is exactly why I was eliminated early in the ceremony in my last life. But my classmates seemed to have forgotten that, only caring about suppressing me. “If they kill based on scores, why didn’t you just hand in a blank paper?” Caleb asked. I shook my head. “The bottom ten students in the grade aren’t allowed to attend graduation.” Like the guy who got last place in our class. He was dead by default. Soon, the awards for the 1500+ scorers were finished. Before the survivors could catch their breath, the principal smiled and announced a choir performance for the graduates. The lights dimmed. The choir, which had appeared on stage unnoticed, slowly turned around. It was the 20-something students who had just died. Jason stood in the front row, his severed neck held together by wire, swaying mechanically to the music as he announced the song title. [Please enjoy a performance by our outstanding graduates: “The White Ship.”] 04 The auditorium fell silent. The living had no idea what was coming next. The piano started. The dead opened their mouths in unison, their rotting vocal cords turning the warm melody into something nauseating. [Blue sky, milky way…] […There sails a little white ship.] My body went rigid. Behind me, Liam, the class idiot, was humming along, oblivious to the danger—until the singing stopped abruptly. Twenty-plus heads snapped toward the audience, their gazes sweeping over faces. “Get down!” I dragged Caleb to the floor. “What are you doing?” Before he could finish his question, a girl in the row ahead of us suddenly stood up. Her mouth curved into an uncontrollable smile, her fingers trembling as they reached for her own neck. “Help…” A tear rolled from her wide, terrified eye, but her fingers snapped with sudden force. Crack! The sound of a cervical fracture exploded over the accompaniment of “The White Ship.” The last image in her eyes was her high-scoring boyfriend on stage, staring at her “lovingly.” “How…” Caleb gasped. “Whenever the singing stops, the people they stare at… die.” No repeats. One-on-one targeting. And they prioritized the high-scorers in the front rows. I watched as over twenty figures stood up one after another. Some laughed and cried as they suffocated themselves with test papers. Some stabbed pens through their temples. The boy in the very front bit through the arteries in his own wrist. The remaining living students were frozen. “Is this… random killing now?” Jessica’s shrill voice pierced the auditorium. Crying and cursing filled the air. Chaos. Aside from Caleb and me, no one knew what was happening. The newly dead swayed to their feet, wearing the same stitched smiles as the choir, and marched in unison toward the stage. Jason affectionately put his arm around a boy who had just killed himself, adjusting his crooked tie. Now, the choir had 46 members. That was 46 pairs of venomous eyes.

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