Category: English

My best friend Claire and I had our dream wedding, marrying the Miller brothers. I married Joe, the swimmer; she married Liam, the surgeon. But their childhood sweetheart, Scarlett, crashed our joint honeymoon. During a rafting trip, we were all thrown into the river. The brothers dove in—but swam only to Scarlett, leaving us to the rapids. We were pulled from the water, bleeding heavily. Paramedics called our husbands. Mine snapped, “Sienna, must you be so needy? Scarlett’s in the hospital. Be considerate for once!” Claire’s husband was just as cold: “This better be important.” Told we were miscarrying and needed surgery, they both sneered, “If you’re going to lie, be believable. A honeymoon baby was a mistake anyway.” Signing the consent forms alone, Claire and I made a silent pact. We were done. 1 The first thing I did after waking up from the anesthesia was call Joe to demand a divorce. He finally answered on the seventh call, his voice dripping with impatience. “What do you want now? Are you ever going to stop?” We weren’t even through our honeymoon, and he already despised me this much. I heard a woman’s soft cry in the background, followed by the urgent, caring voices of Joe and Liam. Swallowing the bitterness that rose in my throat, I cut to the chase. “The honeymoon’s over. As soon as we’re back, I’m filing for divorce.” There was a sharp intake of breath on his end, then an explosion of rage. “Sienna, are you insane? I told you, Scarlett is in the hospital! I have to be here for her.” “None of this would have happened if you and Claire hadn’t insisted on sharing our raft! How else would Scarlett have fallen in?” he yelled. “It’s bad enough you don’t give a damn about her, but now you’re pulling this jealous stunt? I married you, just like you always wanted. Isn’t that enough? Why do you have to be so petty?” “You’re right,” he spat. “The honeymoon is over. Take your pathetic best friend and get lost. Just stay the hell away from me and my brother!” He hung up before I could say another word. That’s when I realized. He hadn’t married me because he wanted to. He’d married me to grant my wish. He seemed to have forgotten he was the one who once swore he’d never marry anyone but me. And the rafting trip? It was Scarlett who had insisted on it. All she had to do was say she wanted to go, and Joe and Liam made it happen. If it wasn’t for her, Claire and I would have never set foot in that raft. Besides, a four-person raft was the perfect size. Scarlett was the extra passenger, yet Claire and I were the ones who were thrown away. After falling into the water, the rapids spun us around until we were dizzy and disoriented. We swallowed mouthful after mouthful of river water, our struggles growing weaker. At one point, my head was about to smash against a rock, but Claire managed to pull me away just in time, her own body taking the brunt of the impact. Who could have known that the babies we had longed for would arrive so quietly, only to be torn away just as silently? A tragically perfect mirror of our marriages. Claire woke up after me, only to find she couldn’t even reach Liam. He had blocked her number. We just stared at each other, silent, as tears streamed down our faces. Just then, a notification for a trending video popped up on my phone. I opened it. It was a video of the Miller brothers’ heroic river rescue, and it had gone viral. In the clip, Joe and Liam worked together, lifting a terrified Scarlett out of the raging water. No matter how powerful the current, they refused to let her go. Once on shore, she murmured something about her chest hurting, and Joe immediately began performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Liam was right there beside him, meticulously disinfecting and bandaging a barely visible scratch on her arm. The comments section was flooded. Thousands of women wished they were Scarlett, to be saved so valiantly by two gorgeous men. Scarlett herself commented under the viral video: They saved my life… how can I ever repay them? Taking suggestions! Urgent! Her comment was immediately pinned to the top with a flood of likes. The internet had spoken. A debt like that can only be paid back one way! With your body! Two ridiculously hot heroes? Go for it, girl! Don’t hesitate! You snooze, you lose! Scarlett replied coyly to her new fans: Well, if you all insist! Get the wedding bells ready, everyone! So, a love triangle wasn’t crowded after all. It was our marriages, Claire’s and mine, that had made their perfect trio feel cramped. No one noticed the two other figures in the video, being swept further and further downstream. Just like Joe and Liam, the world only had eyes for Scarlett. Well, if they wanted a show, we would give them one. With a shared, unspoken understanding, Claire and I posted our own comments under the video. Just a heads-up to the two heroes: let us know when you have a free moment to sign divorce papers. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your real honeymoon. Scarlett’s confidence came from the brothers’ blatant favoritism. If they loved her so much, why had they married us in the first place? The moment we posted, our inboxes exploded. Mindless internet trolls told us to get out of the way and let true love run its course. A few kind souls offered their sympathy. And Joe, who hadn’t contacted me in two days, called me instantly, his voice a torrent of fury. “Sienna, who gave you permission to run your mouth online? Can you not survive a single day without throwing a jealous fit?” “Scarlett can’t swim! The situation was critical! Was I supposed to let her drown while you saved her?” “She would be dead if we hadn’t saved her! Would you have given your life for hers? Is that what you wanted?” “The rescue team got to you. You’re perfectly fine, so stop your whining. And you paid a doctor to fake a miscarriage? There’s a limit, Sienna.” “You and Claire are going to delete those comments, and then you’re going to record a public apology to Scarlett. If one more person calls her a homewrecker because of you, I’ll make you regret it.” This was the first time he had reached out to me since the accident. Not to ask if we were hurt—he assumed that since we could swim and the professionals had arrived, the worst we’d suffered was swallowing a little dirty water. He didn’t care that his demand for an apology would only fuel the online mob calling for our heads. His only concern was protecting Scarlett’s reputation. But wasn’t forcing her way into two marriages the very definition of a homewrecker? The man I had loved for five years truly had no heart for me. A five-year marathon, finally ending with the wedding he’d promised. And now, not even two weeks later, the happy marriage I’d dreamed of was ending with the death of my child. Maybe our babies knew. Maybe they decided to leave the moment they realized their fathers wouldn’t choose their mothers. The brothers had been clear: they would have made us get rid of a honeymoon baby anyway. Even without the accident, our children were never meant to be. Joe was still on the line, waiting for me to break down, to apologize, to beg. His impatience was palpable. “I’m talking to you! Are you mute?” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Are you deaf? I said, we’re getting a divorce.” 2 With me, Joe was usually a man of few words. Even during arguments, he preferred to let things cool down. The only exception was Scarlett. When it came to her, he could unleash a firestorm of rage at me. And it always ended with me being the one to apologize. I loved him, so I always gave in. I believed that since he had promised to marry me, he would honor it. Looking back, a clean break would have been kinder. On the other end of the line, Joe’s breathing grew heavy. He was clearly enraged by my defiance. “Sienna, I hate being threatened. I brought you on this honeymoon as a courtesy, not so you could compete with Scarlett like some catty teenager. Why do you have to be so damn insecure? My own brother is at his wit’s end because of your brainless friend. If you keep this up, don’t blame me when this is all over.” “Oh, it’ll be over, Joe,” I said calmly. “The moment the divorce is final.” He was stunned into silence for a second, then he hung up and immediately video-called me. His face was a thundercloud, a clear sign he was at the end of his rope. “Say that again. You want a divorce?” he snarled. “Did you think marriage was a game? You were the one rushing to the altar, and now you’re the one screaming for a divorce. Are you trying to make a fool out of me?” “You’re almost thirty, throwing tantrums and getting jealous over nothing. Who else would have married you? No one wants a woman like you!” He had spent five years emotionally manipulating me about my desire to get married. He knew exactly where to stick the knife. “What’s wrong with being almost thirty? It’s not a death sentence. And it’s not like you’re the last man on earth. And even if you were, I’d still divorce you.” Because of them, because of their choice, Claire and I had almost died, taking our unborn children with us. I would rather die than stay married to him. Marrying Joe had once been my greatest dream. I’d ignored my parents’ warnings, determined to have him. If I could be stubborn enough to marry him, I could be resolute enough to leave him. He was the wall I had to run into. Now, bruised and broken, I finally understood: marrying a man who doesn’t truly love you is a lifetime of misery. Before the wedding, no matter how much I fought with him over Scarlett, I never once considered leaving. I foolishly believed that being his first real love made me special. It wasn’t until he swam toward her, watching me get swept away without a flicker of concern, that I finally understood my place. I was just something to keep his bed warm. “Sienna, you’re not a child anymore. Are you really going to throw away our marriage over something so trivial?” Trivial. Watching me nearly die was trivial. “Yes,” I said. “For this one, trivial thing.” He once draped his swimming medal around my neck and joked that if my mother and I were drowning, he was fast enough to save us both. I was so touched at the time. I didn’t need him to lie and say he’d save me first; those were just words. But I never imagined that when a real-life drowning scenario played out, he would swim to his childhood sweetheart without a second thought. For him, there had only ever been one right answer. I was the wrong one. Two weeks ago, at our wedding, he took my hand from my father and promised to protect me for the rest of his life. His ‘rest of his life’ was short. It lasted fifteen days. “Fine! Have it your way! We’ll get a divorce. But don’t you come crawling back to me, because I never go back for seconds.” He ended the video call abruptly. I knew why. In the background, I’d heard Scarlett’s sweet voice, telling him she was thirsty. One word from her, and Joe would give her the world. He was an expert in the water, yet he hadn’t noticed that Claire and I were in real trouble. He didn’t even notice I was lying pale in a hospital bed on his video screen. Before Scarlett returned, he had been lukewarm, but he would at least stay up all night with me if I had a fever. We had been in love once, for a little while. Now, that love was gone, washed away. All it took was one look from Scarlett, and I lost everything. Joe’s voice had been loud. Claire, lying in the bed next to me, had heard every word. She crawled onto my bed and hugged me, her body shaking with angry sobs. “Sienna, we were so blind. How could we have mistaken those scumbags for the loves of our lives?” Before I could comfort her, her phone started ringing incessantly. Liam, apparently willing to unblock her just to give Scarlett a victory, was calling. Tears streamed down Claire’s face. She meant to reject the call, but a teardrop landed on the screen, and her swipe accidentally answered the video chat. “Why are you crying, Claire? Do you think red, puffy eyes are going to make me forgive your monumental screw-up?” Liam’s face filled the screen, twisted with contempt. “If you and Sienna are so bored, go find your own fun. Go to a club, hire a male stripper for all I care. But you do not get to drag Scarlett’s name through the mud online!” “She poured her heart and soul into planning this trip for us, and this is how you repay her? By getting her torn apart by strangers online? Do you have any conscience at all?” Claire’s tears became a torrent. 3 Her crying didn’t stop Liam. It only fueled his tirade, as if he and his brother wouldn’t rest until they had verbally beaten us into submission. “Don’t just sit there and cry. If you weren’t my wife, I’d give you a taste of your own medicine. With my brother’s and my reputation, turning the internet against you would take minutes.” “If I were you, I’d be crawling over here to beg for Scarlett’s forgiveness, and then I’d get the hell out of sight. Crying won’t solve anything.” Claire hadn’t even wanted to answer. Seeing her get ripped to shreds without saying a single word, a protective fury surged through me. I snatched the phone. “Liam, you’re a bastard, just like your brother. Go file the damn papers!” Claire found her voice, a choked sob. “Liam, I want a divorce!” After the call, she was a wreck, trembling with a mixture of grief and anger. I held her tight, and we cried together, letting it all out. Who would have thought? A celebrated swimming prodigy and a life-saving surgeon, leaving their own wives to die. Their polished public images had charmed everyone, including us. But we were the only ones who knew the ugliness that lay beneath the surface. “Sienna, maybe this is a blessing in disguise,” Claire whispered, her voice raw. “At least we see them for who they are now. We don’t have to waste our lives, or bring children into a loveless marriage.” “Claire, I’m so glad you can see it that way. I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to let Liam go…” She had chased after him since she was a teenager. That kind of first love is hard to forget. She had dedicated more than a decade of her life to him, only for it to end like this. “Sienna, a heart doesn’t turn to ice in one day. I don’t regret marrying him, and I certainly don’t regret divorcing him. It was my choice, and now I’m choosing to cut my losses.” We held each other again, drawing strength from one another. Our marriages were over. We had accepted that the moment we woke up from surgery. Our only regret was for the two small lives that had flickered briefly inside us, sacrifices on the altar of our failed relationships. We prayed they would find happier homes next time. Composing ourselves, we began preparing for the divorces. Being newlyweds, there were no complicated assets to divide. All we needed were their signatures and a trip to the courthouse. Just as we finished drafting the agreements, we both received notifications on our phones. It was from a social media app. Our husbands, using their verified public accounts, had replied directly to our comments under the viral video. Joe Miller: My wife gets a little jealous sometimes and likes to make a big deal out of small things. If you have questions, ask me. Please don’t attack an innocent person! Liam Miller: My wife and sister-in-law are both excellent swimmers, and they were immediately picked up by the professional rescue team. They weren’t hurt. Please don’t get carried away by their little joke. They even posted a group photo of the four of us from earlier in the trip, trying to prove we were fine. Their posts ignited a firestorm. The internet collectively decided we were manipulative drama queens, trying to piggyback on Scarlett’s newfound fame. After all, she had leaned into the viral moment, building a brand and gaining hundreds of thousands of followers. I checked my messages and saw Joe had been demanding my login credentials. Because I hadn’t deleted the comment and apologized, he was going to log in as me and do it himself. I had to laugh. He would literally walk through fire for Scarlett. For me, there wasn’t an ounce of sincerity. All my passwords were our anniversary dates. He had forgotten. Thank god he forgot. I can’t imagine the ways he would have publicly humiliated me to appease her. Their self-righteous declarations online showed a complete disregard for the torrent of abuse we would face. It was just like in the river—they had left us to drown. You two bitches should just die. Threatening divorce like it’s a joke. You think you’re so special? Get a real divorce then, or I’ll curse you out myself! What did your husbands do wrong, you psycho? They saved someone! You’re fine, so stop being so bitter! Attention-seeking whores, get a divorce and leave those poor men alone. I can picture your ugly, jealous faces. You two are so obsessed with each other, why don’t you just get together and make room for the real queen! The internet may have rules, but online mobs don’t need a reason to attack. The pain of the drowning, the miscarriage, the decision to divorce… it was a private agony that only Claire and I could understand. Joe and Liam couldn’t see the hospital beds we were lying in, but their indifference was one thing. To actively lie and paint us as villains was pure poison. We looked at the flood of hate pouring into our phones. We were done being punching bags. If the brothers wanted to weaponize the internet to protect Scarlett, we weren’t going to just lie down and take it. We took a picture of our surgery consent forms—the ones detailing the procedures for our miscarriages—and sent them directly to our husbands.

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When I lost the baby, Ethan wept outside the delivery room. Even the nurses were touched, whispering enviably, “Your husband loves you so much. You’re lucky.” I looked at Ethan, who was carefully blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it down for me. “Yeah, I am.” But later, I saw a field of red roses covering an entire hillside. And I saw him standing there, shouting, “I love you!” to the girl who killed our child. 01 Ethan had been incredibly busy lately. Busy meeting clients, busy with board meetings, busy with “networking.” He’d come home in the middle of the night, reeking of alcohol. “Chloe, I’m so tired.” He would kiss me on the forehead. “But when I think of you and the baby, it’s all worth it.” I would gently stroke my belly, looking at him with heartache as he passed out from exhaustion. This was our third year of marriage. Finally, we were having a child. Ethan and I met in college. Relying on his sharp business acumen and my unwavering backend support, we built our startup from a garage project into a thriving company. Two years ago, we actually conceived. But back then, the company was in a critical growth phase. We were running ourselves ragged, flying across the country every other day. “Let’s not keep it,” I had said, cupping Ethan’s face, my voice firm but shaking. “We can have children later. But this opportunity for the company… it’s once in a lifetime.” Ethan’s eyes had turned red. I knew how hungry he was for success. We had poured our blood and sweat into this business. I couldn’t let my personal desires destroy the hard work of so many employees. Even though I loved kids, for the sake of our future, I gave up that first pregnancy. Now, “Ethan & Co.” was stable. We were finally getting our wish—soon to be a family of three. Even though I was only four months along, Ethan had banned me from doing any work or chores since the day the stick turned pink. Buzz. My phone lit up on the nightstand. I quickly silenced it, terrified of waking Ethan. It was a picture message. I clicked it open. It was a photo, taken at a tilted, secretive angle. Across a candlelit table sat a man. The photographer was clearly a woman—her hand was visible in the corner, slender, with an intricate manicure and a distinctive crystal charm bracelet. But my eyes were glued to the man’s hand across from her. On his wrist was the diamond-encrusted Cartier watch I had given Ethan for his birthday just days ago. My heart started hammering against my ribs. I zoomed in. On the man’s index finger, there was a faint, white scar. It was Ethan. That scar was from our first year of marriage. I couldn’t mistake it. Back then, the company was just starting, and we needed every penny for capital. We lived in a cramped studio apartment on the outskirts of the city to save on rent. The building was ancient, and the wiring was shot. One night, the power cut out while Ethan was chopping vegetables. He sliced his finger open in the dark. I scrambled to find the first aid kit by the light of my phone screen, bandaging him up with trembling hands. We sat in the dark, eating cold sandwiches because the electric stove wouldn’t work. “Chloe,” his voice had been dry and raspy. “I’m sorry I’m making you suffer like this.” “One day, I promise, I’ll give you the happiest life imaginable.” I had leaned my head on his shoulder. “I know.” I believed in that future. And true to his word, we eventually got that life. Until that hand appeared in another woman’s photo. 02 When Ethan woke up the next morning, I had already made oatmeal. Watching him scroll through his phone with a faint smile, I asked, casually as I could, “Who was the dinner with last night?” Ethan glanced at me. “The General Manager of OmniCorp. You’ve met her.” I had met her. The GM of OmniCorp was indeed a young woman. I nodded and didn’t say anything else. Ethan put down his spoon. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I said softly. “Just try not to drink so much next time.” “I know. The Omni contract is still up in the air. I have to go meet her again today to finalize terms.” I cleared the table. “Okay. I have my prenatal checkup this afternoon. Are you free?” Ethan walked over, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and kissed my cheek. “Babe, this partnership is make-or-break. Can you drive yourself to the clinic this one time? I’ll go with you next month, I promise.” I looked up at him. “But the doctor said these first few months are crucial. I really wanted you there.” Ethan looked me in the eye. “Chloe, please. Be reasonable.” That phrase. It sounded so familiar. A few months ago, when we found out I was pregnant, he used that same tone. “Chloe, I want you to step back from the company for a while.” “The stress is too much. I’m worried about you.” I was surprised. I had weathered the stormiest days of our startup; I wasn’t fragile. “It’s fine, I can—” “Chloe,” he had looked at me with intense seriousness. “I don’t want anything to happen to our baby.” “Please. Be reasonable.” Seeing his determination, I had agreed. Just like today. He smiled, coaxed me into eating a few more bites, and left for the office. I got dressed and headed to the hospital. That drive would change my life forever. 03 I was waiting at a red light when the car behind me slammed into my bumper without braking. The impact was massive. Inertia threw me forward, and despite the seatbelt, my lower abdomen slammed hard against the steering wheel console. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through me. My vision blurred. The driver of the other car ran up and tapped on my window. I used every ounce of strength to pop the door open. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking at the light…” It was a young, pretty girl. Her sweet, apologetic smile vanished instantly, replaced by horror. “Oh my god… you’re bleeding…” she shrieked. I looked down. Blood was soaking the beige car seat. My baby! Panic, cold and sharp, woke me up. “Call 911! Now!” I screamed. “No, wait, the ambulance will take too long. Get in my car, I’ll drive you to the ER! It’s two blocks away!” The girl hesitated, looking terrified. “I… I’m scared to move you…” I roared at her, “Drive! My baby is dying!” Frightened by my hysteria, she helped me into her passenger seat. She was sobbing as she started the car, but instead of focusing, she called her boyfriend. “Babe, I accidentally hit a pregnant lady’s car… she’s bleeding a lot… I’m driving her to the hospital, what do I do? I’m so scared…” She listened to the voice on the other end, calming down slightly. I was frantically trying to call Ethan. Line busy. Again. Line busy. Pick up, Ethan! Our baby! I dialed the office line in desperation. “Put Ethan on the phone! It’s an emergency!” My assistant sounded confused. “One second… wait, he was just here. Where did he go? He literally just vanished.” “Find him and tell him to call me!” I yelled and hung up. We arrived at the ER. Nurses rushed me onto a gurney. The diagnosis came quickly: severe trauma caused a placental abruption. I had lost the baby. Lying on the hospital bed, moments before surgery to remove the tissue, I heard the girl whining to her boyfriend on the phone in the hallway. “Can you hurry up? I’m really scared. What if she tries to sue me for everything?” The anesthesia kicked in. A single tear rolled down my temple. I’m sorry, baby. 04 When I opened my eyes, Ethan was sitting by my bed, eyes rimmed with red. “Ethan…” My voice was a croak. He quickly poured me water. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. I was in a meeting…” I paused for a long time before finding the strength to speak. “The baby… the baby is gone.” Ethan took a deep breath and forced a pained smile. “I know. Chloe, it was an accident. Nobody wanted this. Don’t worry, we can have another one.” “Where is she?” I suddenly remembered the driver. “The girl who rear-ended me.” Ethan stroked my hair. “I told her to go home. The police contacted me about the accident report. It’ll depend on their investigation. Having her here would just upset you, so I sent her away.” Tears began to fall again, soaking the pillow. “Why? She should pay for this!” Ethan was silent for a moment. “In these cases, it’s usually just financial compensation.” I closed my eyes. “I wish she could go to jail…” “Chloe, jail won’t bring the baby back. It’s pointless to fixate on punishment.” I opened my eyes, looking at him in disbelief. “Pointless? She killed my child! She just pays a fine and walks away? What about me? Can money fix this?” Ethan frowned. “That’s how the law works. Chloe, listen to me. We will have other children. That girl is in her early twenties. A criminal record would ruin her entire life.” He sighed. “I know you’re grieving. I’m hurting too. Just focus on getting better. Don’t think about the messy stuff.” I stared at Ethan, trying to find the man I married. He looked the same. But his words… they didn’t sound like him. Was I just overwhelmed with grief? Was I being unreasonable to want someone to pay for their mistake? Seeing my expression shift, Ethan gently took my hand. “Chloe, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

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The day I retired, my daughter arrived in tears. Her startup had failed, she said, leaving her a million dollars in debt. Fearing loan sharks would come for her and my grandson, I begged the hospital to rehire me and took on every side job I could find. Days were spent in surgery, nights driving for Uber and delivering food. I saved every cent for her debt, but the strain broke my health—I developed stomach cancer. When she saw the diagnosis, my daughter held me tight, crying, “Hospitals are too expensive, treatments are torture. Chemo makes your hair fall out. The doctor said it’s just inflammation. Let’s see a naturopath—herbs will cure you.” I believed her. She talked me out of treatment, and my early cancer spread until it was terminal. On my deathbed, I discovered the truth: her startup had succeeded years before. She was worth millions, spending five figures daily, a VIP at Hermès. She’d buy jewelry to please her mother-in-law but not pay to save me. Her poverty was an act of revenge—because years earlier, I’d saved her husband from a crash but couldn’t save his leg. Rage choked me; my soul shook. Then I opened my eyes. I was back—ten years earlier, on the day of my son-in-law’s car crash. 1 “Director, my mom has decided against the fellowship abroad. She won’t be signing the contract.” The moment I saw my daughter, Chloe, walking into the hospital with my grandson, Nathan, a cold dread washed over me. Something was terribly wrong. I glanced at the date on the contract in my hands, and my heart stopped. I was back. I had been reborn at the turning point of my career. The hospital administration wanted to groom me for a leadership position, and they had secured a prestigious, fully-funded international fellowship just for me. In my past life, to stay close to Chloe, I had turned down this priceless opportunity. The hospital director shook his head, his face a mask of disappointment. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, Sarah. There’s only one spot. If you’re not going, I’ll have to offer it to someone else.” A bomb went off in my head. A once-in-a-lifetime chance. I couldn’t let it slip through my fingers again. I would not hand this victory to someone else. Just as the director began to pull the contract back, my hand shot out, pressing it flat against the desk. My voice trembled, a raw, desperate sound I barely recognized as my own. “I’ll go.” The director paused, surprised. “But Sarah, it’s a three-year program. Aren’t you worried your daughter will resent you?” Resent me? Even when I had devoted my entire existence to her family, putting her first at every turn, sacrificing my own health and happiness, what did I get in return? Nothing but blame and resentment. She wouldn’t even shed a single tear at my grave. Only now, in this second life, did I finally understand. I could neglect anyone in the world, but I could never again neglect myself. “The hospital has shown such faith in me, offering me this incredible opportunity to grow. I’m sure she’ll understand.” With that, I pulled the pen from my coat pocket, ready to sign. An opportunity like this wouldn’t wait. But before the ink could touch the paper, Chloe snatched the pen from my hand. She hurled it to the floor. It shattered, and a black stain bloomed across the pristine white tiles, like a spreading wound. Her face crumpled, and she began to sob, great, gulping breaths that left her gasping for air. “I don’t want you to go!” she wailed. “Mom, if you leave, what will we do? Nathan’s about to start middle school—it’s such a critical time! How can you even think about going abroad now? You’re too old for this kind of foolishness!” She clutched at her heart dramatically. “We all depend on you! What will we eat? Who will clean the house? Nathan’s clothes only ever get really clean when you wash them by hand! How can you be so cruel?” So, she knew what it was to struggle. My entire life had revolved around her, a life of endless labor and sacrifice. She wiped at her tears, her face a picture of pitiable misery. “Director, you’re doctors. You save lives. Patients worship you. You’re forcing my mother to go abroad against her will! Last night, she held me and promised she wouldn’t leave. I’m begging you, on my knees, please don’t force her to go.” As she spoke, she gave Nathan a sharp nudge. His face puckered, and he burst into a theatrical wail. “Grandma, don’t go! If you leave, who will give me allowance money? Mommy says you have lots of money for me!” Before he could say more, Chloe clamped a hand over his mouth, pulling him back. Then, taking him by the hand, her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor in front of the director. The office fell into a stunned silence. The director was utterly flustered. “My dear child, what are you doing? Get up!” he pleaded, reaching for her. He turned to me, his expression troubled. “Dr. Sullivan, perhaps you should go home and discuss this further with your family.” I knew that if I walked out that door, my chance would be gone forever. Countless pairs of eyes in this hospital were watching this fellowship, waiting for me to falter. No matter what, I had to sign that contract. Today. 2 In my last life, Chloe cried for an entire night. She couldn’t bear for me to leave; she begged and pleaded for me to stay. Her tears wore me down, and I finally relented, deciding to remain in the country to be with her. But even that wasn’t enough. She constantly complained that her life was stifling, that her family wasn’t happy, that she wasn’t fulfilled. After she married Kevin, I felt sorry for her, juggling a household while paying off a mortgage and car loans. I gave her every spare cent I had. She complained that Nathan was falling behind in school and that Kevin didn’t earn enough. She lamented that being a housewife made people look down on her. My heart ached for her struggles, so I stepped in. I took over her household chores, cooked her meals, and did her laundry, tirelessly caring for her entire family. Finally, the day I retired arrived. I had already made plans with old friends to travel, to finally see the world. But that was the day my daughter came to me, weeping, and told me about her failed startup and the million-dollar debt. How could I bear to see her and my grandson hunted by loan sharks? So, I went back to the hospital, cap in hand, and took on any work they’d give me. I worked every waking hour. Hospital by day, Uber and DoorDash by night, saving every penny for her. Until the cancer diagnosis. My daughter fell into my arms, sobbing. “I looked it up online, Mom. Chemo just speeds things up. You won’t last three months. I found a famous naturopath who can cure you. His herbal formulas have saved countless cancer patients. Each treatment costs a fortune, thousands of dollars!” I was a doctor. I knew my own body. I knew there was still a chance, that surgery to remove the tumor could save me. But she had already purchased ten vials of the murky, brown liquid. Friends and relatives all praised her, telling me what a wonderful, devoted daughter I had. I assumed a treatment that cost thousands must be made of rare, miraculous ingredients. I couldn’t bear to throw it away, so I forced it down, sip by bitter sip. But the “medicine” only made me worse. My early-stage cancer raged into its final, terminal phase. For a full month, I was tortured by agonizing pain. The bitter concoction couldn’t sustain me. My belly swelled with ascites until it was taut as a drum. In the end, there was nothing left but to let the tumors devour my organs, leaving me hollowed out and filled with poison. Even as I died, Chloe never shed a single tear. It was on the seventh day after my death, the day my soul was said to return, that I learned everything. Chloe and her family had been using my compassion all along, turning me into their unpaid maid, their personal ATM. They drained my salary and my pension, secretly using it to fund her business venture. They bled me dry, down to the very last drop. She had been lying to me the entire time. Her startup had been profitable for years. In just five years, she’d built a company and become its CEO. In ten, she was a multimillionaire. She spent ten thousand dollars a day without a second thought, a VIP at Hermès. She would spend a hundred thousand on jewelry for her mother-in-law without batting an eye but refused to spend a single penny on me. And the thousand-dollar “miracle cure”? It was a lie. She’d found some charlatan to prescribe the cheapest, most common herbs. The daughter I trusted, the daughter I adored, had deceived me my entire life. She was a viper I had warmed at my own breast. Even on the night of my funeral, she remained dry-eyed. Her voice was light, almost casual, as she spoke to a relative. “She should have died a long time ago. Even if I were a billionaire, I wouldn’t have spent a cent on her. It’s what she deserved. It’s her fault she only saved Kevin’s life but not his leg. She condemned me to a life of being mocked for marrying a cripple. I hated her for it. I’m glad she’s gone. Otherwise, I’d always be worried she’d find out about my money and expect me to support her.” The rage was so powerful it felt like it would tear my spirit apart. How could I not feel betrayed? How could I not be filled with hate? Tears of blood fell from my spectral eyes, my heart a void of despair. My entire life had been for Chloe, and my reward was to die in agony, utterly alone. Reborn, I would live for myself. This time, I would put myself first. 3 The director, caught in the middle, tried to reason with me. “Her son is starting middle school this year, Sarah. It’s a big transition. There will be other opportunities. Perhaps you can go next time.” My mind raced. This was the chance I had to seize, the greatest regret of my previous life. How could I let it go again? My voice was hoarse but firm. “Director, she’s a grown woman with her own family. She is more than capable of taking care of herself. I am ready. I can leave whenever necessary.” At my words, Chloe’s eyes widened. Tears welled up instantly, and she tightened her grip on the director’s arm. “What does being married matter? I’m still my mother’s little girl! Mom, even if you can bear to leave me, can you bear to leave Nathan? He’s your only grandson!” She shot a look at Nathan, who immediately picked up his cue. “I’d rather drop out of school than be without my Grandma!” he cried. The director’s face fell. “Now, that’s just nonsense.” He clearly thought this was a domestic squabble I hadn’t managed properly. “Sarah, I have a patient waiting. Why don’t you take your family outside for now.” The thread of tension inside me finally snapped. Seeing the director reach for the contract on his desk, I grabbed the pen from the holder and, without a second thought, scrawled my name across the signature line. The director stared, stunned for a half-second. “You… you signed it?” I pushed the document toward him, my voice steady. “It’s signed. As soon as my visa is approved, I’m ready to go.” Chloe clearly hadn’t expected me to act so decisively. She grabbed my arm, her grip like a vise. “Mom, what is wrong with you? Who are you trying to punish? I got on my knees and begged you, and you still won’t stay! This whole family depends on you! If you leave, what happens to us? How can you be so selfish?” Her eyes burned with a furious, resentful glare. “If you don’t care about me, then I might as well just go die right now, and don’t you dare try to stop me!” Something in me broke. My hand flew up, seemingly of its own accord, and I slapped her, hard, across the face. In this life and the last, it was the first time I had ever struck her. The blow was charged with all the bitterness and rage of my past life. The force of it was so great my own palm stung and went numb. Her shocked, hateful eyes met mine. I stared back at her, my voice cold as ice. “Chloe, let that be a lesson to you.” Years ago, her husband, Kevin, had been in a multi-car pile-up. The emergency room was overflowing with victims. I was scheduled for back-to-back surgeries. When I heard my own son-in-law was among the injured, fresh out of one operation, my heart seized with fear for Chloe. I swore to myself I would do whatever it took to save him, to make sure she and Nathan wouldn’t be left alone. Family members are never supposed to operate on their own relatives, but the situation was dire. Only I had the specific skills he needed. Kevin couldn’t wait. After a grueling four-hour surgery, I had saved him. But to save his life, in a critical moment, I had made the call to amputate his leg above the knee. From that day on, Kevin hated me with a passion. He never missed a chance to lash out. “Why did you save me? You should have just let me die! I don’t want to live like this, a pathetic cripple!” It was the exact same look of hatred I saw in Chloe’s eyes now. Blood, it seemed, never lies. Chloe’s voice was venomous. “If you walk out that door, I will hate you for the rest of my life.” She clutched her cheek and ran from the office, sobbing. I let out a slow breath. She had hated me for a long time already. What difference did one more lifetime make? Signing the contract was just the first step. I still had three months before my departure—a probationary period for the hospital to finalize its decision. As long as I didn’t make any mistakes, the fellowship was mine. But it wasn’t long before anonymous complaints started flooding the administration. The director called me into his office. “These are all coming from the same person, and they’re being sent from within the city,” he said, his brow furrowed. “Sarah, have you made an enemy of someone?” My first thought was Chloe. She would stop at nothing to keep me here. 4 “Dr. Sullivan, consider this a warning. We have a delegation from the board coming for an inspection in a few days. Don’t let anything go wrong.” This inspection was a major event. The top brass was coming to evaluate the hospital’s overall performance and the professionalism of its staff. The administration was on high alert, and our days were filled with preparations. I knew that the anonymous complaints, without any real evidence, were just noise. But this… this would be different. To keep the peace, I had continued sending Chloe her monthly allowance. I thought that with her own work, she would be too busy to cause more trouble. But somehow, she found out the exact date of the inspection. And on that very morning, she appeared at the hospital. A sense of foreboding washed over me. Before I could even call out to her, a nurse came running towards me, out of breath. “Dr. Sullivan, it’s an emergency!” My heart sank. The nurse gasped, “There’s a family making a scene downstairs! They’re saying you killed their relative. They’re blocking the entrance. You have to go handle it!” I glanced at my watch. Eight o’clock. The delegation was due to arrive at the main entrance in exactly one hour. I had to resolve this, and fast. When I got to the lobby, the scene was worse than I imagined. A man in a wheelchair and a young boy, maybe seven or eight years old, were dressed in black. They were holding a large white banner with crude, crimson letters painted on it: “METROPOLITAN GENERAL SURGEON SARAH SULLIVAN IS A MURDERER!” The bright red words on the white cloth were impossible to miss. A crowd of patients and visitors had gathered. The little boy was chanting, his voice high and piercing, “Sarah Sullivan, give me back my mommy! Sarah Sullivan is a murderer!” As I stepped forward, the man in the wheelchair spat in my direction. “Don’t you come any closer! You take one more step and I’ll ram this chair into a wall and kill myself right here!” In my decades as a surgeon, I had never had a single malpractice case. I knew, with absolute certainty, that these people were actors. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder. “Isn’t that Dr. Sullivan? She operated on my son. I can’t believe someone with her skills would make a mistake like that!” “Maybe her reputation is all hype. They call her the ‘Saint of Surgery,’ don’t they?” “Some saint. She’s not even a department head yet. If she was that good, why hasn’t she been promoted?” The situation was spiraling out of control. “Charge Nurse,” I called out, my voice ringing with authority. “Pull the medical records for this woman. If there’s no record of her being a patient here, call security and have them arrested for slander.” Every patient is registered in our system. A quick search would expose their lie. My eyes darted to the corner of the lobby, where Chloe was hiding, and my blood ran cold. But before the nurse could even get to a computer, a shuttle bus pulled up to the front entrance. “Dr. Sullivan, the delegation is here,” my hospital rival, Dr. Manning, said with a smirk. “Good luck explaining this.” I glanced at my watch. Eight-thirty. They were half an hour early. As expected. The sight of the protest at the hospital entrance immediately soured the lead delegate’s mood. Even my own director’s face darkened. “Dr. Sullivan, what is the meaning of this?” he hissed, then shot me a look. “Get this under control. Now.” At that moment, Chloe burst from her hiding spot. She ran to the center of the chaos and grabbed the director’s arm. “Director, please, I’m begging you, don’t let my mother go abroad for that fellowship! Her family needs her here!” The delegate’s face was a stony mask. He turned to the director. “Director Miller, do you not vet the qualifications of the doctors you select for such a prestigious opportunity?” Clearly, my professional record was now in question. Chloe’s voice was thick with manufactured tears. “Mom, please, stop being so stubborn! You’ve already killed a patient! Going abroad now would just be an embarrassment. Why are you doing this?” My face burned with humiliation. I wrenched my arm away from her. “What are you talking about?” I took a deep, steadying breath. “These people are strangers. Someone hired them to cause a scene. I have never treated their supposed relative. I request a search of the patient database to prove my innocence.” Director Miller nodded. “The records don’t lie. Check them now.” Just as the charge nurse reached a terminal, her phone rang. Her expression shifted, her face growing pale and grim. “Understood. We’re preparing now.” She hung up, her voice tight with urgency. “Director, there’s been a multi-car pile-up in the Crestview Tunnel, involving a tour bus. City Central is overwhelmed and they’re diverting patients to us. We have twenty-three incoming, including two critical.” I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second. It was happening. It was all happening again. The first rule of a hospital is to save lives. My personal vindication would have to wait. Nurses and orderlies were already rushing outside with gurneys. The first ambulances were arriving, their sirens wailing. The lobby transformed into a triage unit. I was about to move toward the ER when the lead delegate stopped me. “Someone else can take the lead. Her judgment is compromised.” His eyes, and everyone else’s, flickered towards the two protestors still blocking the entrance. Chloe’s face was just beginning to light up with triumph when she saw a familiar figure being wheeled in on a gurney. His face was a mask of blood, shards of glass embedded in his flesh. Chloe’s face went white. A raw, guttural scream tore from her throat. “KEVIN!!!” I narrowed my eyes, looking at the broken man on the gurney. A moment later, my arm was seized in a desperate grip. Chloe’s voice was a frantic, pleading whisper. “Mom… Mom, please, you have to save him! You have to save Kevin!”

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I heard them talking behind my back in the restroom stall. The intern I’d spent three months personally training was complaining, her voice sharp with resentment. “He’s just an old fossil who doesn’t get it, like some robot whose brain is stuck in a loop.” I was about to push the door open and cut her off when someone else chimed in with a snicker. “‘The materials are incomplete.’” “‘This receipt isn’t compliant.’” “‘The director hasn’t signed off, so I can’t process it.’” “Yeah, we’ve all memorized his corporate catchphrases!” I waited until they were gone, then quietly returned to my desk. The intern, Jessica, slammed a thick stack of expense reports on my desk. “Don’t you dare go on another power trip and refuse to reimburse everyone.” I glanced at the fraudulent invoice on top but didn’t call it out like I usually would. This time, I just smiled faintly. “I have a headache. I can’t see the words clearly.” 1 “What?” Jessica stared at me, then her voice turned shrill. “Are you doing this on purpose?” “If you don’t want to process them, just say so! You’re deliberately making things difficult for everyone, so cut the act!” I took a deep breath, refusing to get dragged into a pointless argument. The old me would have patiently explained it to her. Expense receipts needed to be legitimate and valid. As the gatekeepers of the company’s finances, we were legally liable. But every time, she’d push back with a defiant look. “Rules are rigid, but people are flexible. Chris, why can’t you just bend a little?” I had still maintained my professionalism, teaching her time and again how to properly audit the claims. But now, remembering her words from the restroom, a chill settled in my heart. If she didn’t appreciate my guidance, there was nothing more to say. I picked up my thermos and turned to leave. Jessica frowned and grabbed my arm. “Where are you going? Feeling guilty?” When I didn’t answer, she raised her voice. “Don’t you know everyone’s had a problem with you for ages? You think I’m the only one who can’t stand you?” “You’re always holding up people’s reimbursements. What, does the money you ‘save’ go into your own pocket?” I was stunned by the absurdity of it all. Just last week, when Jessica applied for a full-time position, I had written a glowing recommendation for her. Now, before the ink was even dry on her application, she was eager to burn this bridge. I pulled my arm away from her painful grip. “Jessica,” I said, my voice calm and measured, “you need to understand that the company has specific procedures and policies for reimbursement. I’m just following the rules.” “Rules?” she sneered. “Are you even human? All you ever talk about are rules, repeating the same lines over and over.” She huffed, her tone becoming demanding. “I don’t care. You have to approve everyone’s expenses today. The others are too polite to say anything, so I’ll be the one to do it. Chris Miller, you need to change your rotten attitude! Stop acting like a damn robot!” Her outburst was met with a ripple of soft laughter from the onlookers who had been silently watching. “Jessica’s got guts!” “Finally, someone’s putting that fossil Chris in his place.” Buoyed by the support, a triumphant smirk spread across Jessica’s face. “See? Now you know how much everyone dislikes you. You should learn from me. Be more considerate of your colleagues’ difficulties and stop making everyone bend to your will!” I almost laughed out loud. The very first expense report on the stack was a fake invoice. The description read “Business travel taxi fare,” but the amount was a staggering one hundred thousand dollars. I wondered if the colleague in question had taken a taxi on a cross-country tour. I set that report aside and flipped to the next one: a screenshot of a fifty-two-thousand-dollar mobile payment. The recipient was labeled “My Dearest Wifey.” Jessica chimed in, “That one’s for Mr. Davies from Sales. He even printed it in color for you. How thoughtful.” I didn’t argue. I moved on to the next. The entire page was a collage of QR codes with a “helpful” note scrawled beside it: “For the old ladies in finance to scan and generate their own invoices.” I put the stack down and looked at Jessica. I swallowed the words I was about to say—“We’re a legitimate company preparing for an IPO. None of this can be approved.” Instead, I smiled. “My head is killing me. I need to take some medicine. Since you’re so considerate of our colleagues, why don’t you approve them?” 2 Ignoring Jessica’s protests, I walked out. It was almost lunchtime. Instead of working through my break as usual, I left the office. Before the lunch hour was even over, my phone was ringing off the hook with calls from my superiors. In the work group chat, my department head, Amanda, was singling me out. “Chris Miller, my office, now!” I took my time, walking back into the office just one minute before the end of the break. Amanda was there, along with the heads of several other departments. It felt like a public execution. Seeing my calm demeanor, Amanda slammed her hand on the desk. “Chris, I’ve received several complaints about you today. What do you have to say for yourself?” I calmly found a chair and sat down. Before I could speak, Jessica added fuel to the fire. “Director Shaw, look at his attitude! He has no respect for you at all!” Amanda’s face flushed with anger. “Chris Miller, show some respect! Don’t act like you own the place just because you’ve been here a while!” I managed a faint smile. When this company was just a dozen people, I was the head of finance. Now, with a thousand employees, I was still just the head of finance. I carried the risk of a corporate officer but earned a salary comparable to the cleaning staff. I’d thought that as the company grew, I would too. But instead, they brought in Amanda as the new CFO. Amanda was the CEO’s wife. I had no choice but to accept it. On her first day, she tried to expense a Louis Vuitton handbag. She saw nothing wrong with it. “What’s with that look? This is my husband’s company. He put me in charge of the money. It’s perfectly natural for me to use our money to buy a purse.” I had to force a smile. “For an amount this large, we’ll need an invoice.” She was busy applying lipstick in her compact mirror. “What’s an invoice?” she asked vaguely. “Can’t you just figure it out?” She waved me away. “And they said you were a professional. You can’t even handle a small thing like this without bothering me. Useless.” It was impossible to muster any respect for a boss like her. Amanda’s attack was immediately backed by the other department heads. Mr. Davies from Sales spoke up, his tone severe. “Chris, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Times have changed, but you’re still clinging to your outdated rules, constantly picking fights with my department. What is wrong with you?” I shot him a cold look. “Picking fights? Are you referring to the time your department closed a million-dollar deal, spent four hundred thousand on client entertainment, sixty thousand on ‘gifts’ for the client’s executives, and then requested a two-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus, which I rejected?” “Or was it the time you asked me to help a client create a fake two-million-dollar invoice, and I refused?” “You—!” Davies pointed a trembling finger at me, his face turning beet red. He was furious. “Finance is nothing without Sales! I’m the top salesman in this company! You work for me, Chris. It’s not your place to question me!” I didn’t argue. I looked down at my phone. The message I’d sent the CEO this morning was still unanswered. The office was a cacophony of criticism. “Logistics has a problem with you too! You demand detailed receipts for everything. Do you think we’re trying to cheat the company?” “And what about Purchasing? You’re always auditing our contracts. Don’t you trust us?” “HR has some concerns as well…” It was all just noise. I typed another message to the CEO, who was on a business trip. “Sir, could you approve my resignation today?” 3 My phone screen finally lit up. The CEO’s reply had arrived. “Don’t be ridiculous! We’re in the middle of our IPO. You can’t just quit now! Whatever your grievances are, wait until I get back. Don’t cause trouble for me.” Reading his message, the last of my hesitation vanished, replaced by a profound sense of disappointment. I had known for a long time that the CEO didn’t really care about the finance department. If he did, he wouldn’t have brushed me off every time I suggested streamlining the reimbursement process. He wouldn’t have flatly refused my proposal to provide basic financial training for the sales teams. The public shaming continued. Seeing me engrossed in my phone, ignoring her completely, Amanda’s voice rose to a shrill pitch. “Chris Miller, are you even listening? What is this attitude!” I locked my phone and looked up, my face impassive. But my next words stunned everyone into silence. “Director Shaw, everyone, are you finished?” The room fell quiet. I stood up and walked to Amanda’s desk. I picked up the stack of expense reports and gave them a little shake. “Since you all believe that I am inflexible and an obstacle to the company’s progress, fine.” I turned to Jessica and thrust the stack into her hands. My voice was devoid of emotion. “Jessica claims she can be more considerate of everyone’s needs. Then I will hand over all of my responsibilities to her.” “Director Shaw, do you have any objections?” Amanda was thrown off by my unexpected move. But the other department heads, especially Davies, were quick to agree. “I think that’s a great idea! Let’s give Jessica a try! Young people are more adaptable.” “Exactly! It’s time for some fresh blood!” Seeing the enthusiastic support and seizing the opportunity to put me in my place, Amanda went along with it. “Jessica, you will temporarily take over Chris’s duties. Do a good job. Don’t disappoint me.” A look of pure joy and triumph spread across Jessica’s face. She almost jumped for joy. She shot me a defiant look and puffed out her chest. “Don’t worry, Director Shaw, everyone! I will complete all tasks efficiently. You won’t have to wait!” I smiled faintly and added, “I’ll send a company-wide email stating that I have completed the handover of all my duties, and that from this point forward, you will be solely responsible for everything.” Jessica, high on her newfound power, agreed without a second thought. “I know, I know! You don’t have to tell me!” I nodded, said nothing more, and returned to my desk to slowly start packing my personal belongings.

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Four years into our marriage, I discovered that my husband, Dr. Elias Vance, had a “white moonlight”—a first love he could never forget. Every year, Elias would leave a bouquet of platycodon flowers on her grave. In the language of flowers, platycodon means eternal love. When I confronted him, he dismissed my pain with a single sentence: “Why do you have to compete with Seraphina over everything?” Even when drunk, Elias would call out her name. For Seraphina, he smashed up our home and tore my dresses to shreds… But later, when the usually composed medical examiner Elias Vance saw me lying on his autopsy table, he broke down completely, unable to even hold his scalpel. 1 I unfolded the test results in my hand, then folded them again. After several hesitations, I finally dialed Elias’s number. Elias always said he was busy, and I was always afraid to disturb him. But this time was different. I was sick. After a long, agonizing ring, Elias’s voice came through, tinged with exhaustion. “What is it?” I nervously picked at the hem of my shirt. “I’m sick…” He cut me off before I could finish. “If you’re sick, see a doctor.” “I have important matters to handle. I’m hanging up.” His tone was thick with impatience. I didn’t miss the sound of a woman’s playful laughter in the background before the line went dead. I sat there, dazed, gripping the phone. The screen went dark, then lit up again. A notification from Maya. She had just posted a moment on social media. The background was a cemetery. Elias was in the photo, showing only his profile. He was staring intently at the portrait on the tombstone, his eyes rimmed with red. But the most striking thing was the bouquet of platycodon flowers. Eternal love. As Elias’s wife, I had never received flowers from him. Not once. Yet Seraphina, who had been dead for five years, received platycodon flowers regularly, rain or shine. Maya’s caption read: Five years since my sister left us. I hope my brother-in-law can finally find peace. I stared at that sentence, my head spinning. Suddenly, a warm rush filled my nose. Blood began to pour out, staining my clothes crimson. I wiped it away, again and again, my hands covered in red, but the flow wouldn’t stop. That’s when the System’s voice echoed in my mind, filled with pity: [Are you really not going to tell Elias?] I shook my head, letting the blood flow. I have leukemia. I don’t have much time left. For four years of marriage, I reported every detail of my life to Elias, even though he never cared. But this time, I suddenly didn’t want to tell him anymore. It wasn’t until midnight that Elias came home. I was sitting in the living room with the lights on, drifting in and out of sleep. In my haze, I felt Elias pick me up. After a brief, bumpy journey, he placed me gently on the bed. “Luna, why were you sleeping on the sofa again?” “Didn’t you say you were sick?” “You don’t look sick at all.” “Next time you miss me, just say so. You don’t have to beat around the bush.” He gently rubbed my ear, his words soft and slow, like the murmurs of a lover. Hearing his voice, I snapped awake. “Did you give Seraphina platycodon flowers today?” I stared straight into his eyes. Under the dim yellow lamp, the softness in his eyes vanished instantly. “Seraphina just liked platycodon flowers, that’s all,” he explained, his tone stiff. I pressed him. “Do you know what platycodon means?” Elias stood up abruptly. The tenderness in the room shattered, replaced by anger. “Luna, why do you have to compete with Seraphina over everything?” “I just want to make it up to her.” “When did you become so petty?” “I’m so disappointed in you.” He slammed the door and left. The room fell silent. I sat there, dazed, looking down at the bloodstains I hadn’t fully washed out of my collar. Was it really that hard to notice? Elias. Dizziness hit me again, and blood dripped onto the sheets, blooming like dark red flowers. My whole body ached. I grabbed a wad of tissues and pressed it hard against my nose. Outside, the moon was bright, but inside, it was dark. My phone was playing a cheerful cartoon. [Host, do you want to choose to leave now?] I paused, turning off the phone. Memories flashed through my mind. Elias’s trembling hands when he confessed his love. Elias clumsily making soup for me. … After a long time, I whispered, “Let’s wait a little longer.” 2 Since that day, Elias seemed to restrain himself. He apologized sincerely, promising to visit Seraphina less often. He hugged me, smiling, and whispered in my ear, “Luna, you know…” “I just feel guilty about her.” “You are the one I love most.” Seraphina was the most vibrant chapter of Elias’s youth. Everyone told me about their epic romance. Skipping class to go to the arcade, bold confessions on the school stage, secret kisses during power outages… Whenever these stories came up, the corners of Elias’s mouth would lift in nostalgia. But Seraphina died in a car accident. Since then, she became the white moonlight he could never reach. I curled into Elias’s arms and nodded silently. After that, it seemed like we returned to normal. He came home early for me, watched movies with me. Sometimes, he even braided my hair. Until one day, Elias came home drunk. Instead of the usual faint scent of antiseptic, he reeked of alcohol. He hugged me tight, as if trying to merge me into his body. His voice, aggressive and desperate, fell from above. “Seraphina…” He called her name over and over, and my face drained of color. “Where… are you?” “Why did you leave me?” Hot tears fell onto my neck, burning their way into my heart. I couldn’t break free, so I let him carry me to the bed. He stroked my hair gently, his eyes unfocused, looking through me to see someone else. As his hot kiss was about to land, nausea surged in my chest. I turned my head away. Elias kissed the air. “Elias, I am Luna.” After a long silence, I reminded him. The man pressing down on me froze. “Sorry… Luna.” “I’m just too tired today.” He pulled back, avoiding my eyes. I lowered my gaze and silently adjusted my clothes. My thoughts were a mess. “You mistook me for Seraphina again, didn’t you?” It wasn’t the first time. Elias rubbed his temples, his eyes clearing but filled with annoyance. “It won’t happen again,” he said, patience wearing thin. I deliberately provoked him. “But Seraphina is already dead.” Why should I be the only one in pain? I wanted Elias to hurt too. The moment the words left my mouth, he turned into a raging lion, pinning me down again. He gripped my wrists hard, glaring at me. “Isn’t this what you want? For me to take you?” “Then I’ll give you what you want.” He tore my clothes open, his kisses falling aggressively. No matter how much I cried or struggled, Elias acted like he couldn’t hear me, venting his anger on my body. “Do you have to be jealous of Seraphina?” he demanded, eyes red. But I was in too much pain to speak. The illness caused enough agony. Elias didn’t want to spare me either. I don’t know how much time passed before he pulled away. I was left alone in the large bedroom. Cold moonlight spilled across the floor. The System, silent for so long, finally spoke: [Why didn’t you choose to leave?] I curled up slowly, smiling bitterly. “I can’t let him off that easily.” Four years ago, I was a “Strategy Agent.” My mission was done, and I was supposed to leave. But Elias begged me to stay. I gave up everything for him. Was it just to witness his betrayal more clearly? He didn’t know yet. The System had given me one chance to regret my choice. Elias… those who betray hearts don’t get happy endings. 3 Elias didn’t come home for days. He seemed to be giving me the silent treatment. In the past, I would have been the one to apologize and smooth things over. But now, I felt nothing. My doctor called me, urging me again and again to check into the hospital for treatment. But I just wanted to go home. To my real home. On the sixth day of the cold war, Elias returned. But he brought Maya with him. I had seen Seraphina’s photo in Elias’s wallet. Maya was her biological sister; they looked alike. Especially the eyes. As soon as she walked in, Maya smiled. “Hi, Luna.” Elias stared at Maya’s smile, lost in a trance. I knew Maya’s smile looked exactly like Seraphina’s. I responded coldly. After dinner, Maya suddenly suggested looking at my room. “I heard Luna is a designer. Can I see your work?” Maya was only twenty, her almond eyes blinking playfully. Elias softened first. He patted my head with a smile. “Show her around.” Maya cheered and hugged Elias’s arm. “Thanks, brother-in-law!” For a second, Elias’s eyes filled with longing. In my room, Maya touched everything, acting curious. Elias held my hand tight, whispering in my ear, “I was wrong last time.” “I even brought help today.” “Wifey, will you forgive me?” He looked at me expectantly. I wanted to laugh. Just as I was about to make a sarcastic remark… A scream pierced the air. Maya was pointing at my closet, her face pale with terror. “Bro… brother-in-law!” she cried. Elias let go of me and walked to the closet. Inside lay a cloth doll, covered in needles. Elias picked it up and saw the name written on the back—Seraphina. 4 Thud. The doll hit the floor. The room was dead silent. Slowly, Elias turned around. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving. He reached into the closet and ripped down all my dresses, screaming at me. “Why would you hurt Seraphina?!” “She’s dead, and you still won’t let her rest!” Maya was trembling, tears streaming down her face. “My sister was so kind…” “To be cursed like this after death…” She sobbed, gasping for air. She cried just like Seraphina. Hearing this, Elias’s rage exploded. He reached out and grabbed my throat, squeezing slowly. My vision blurred from lack of oxygen. Tears fell uncontrollably. Even through the haze, I could see his twisted face. Memories flashed before my eyes. “Is your name Luna? It’s a beautiful name.” “Luna, will you be with me?” “Luna, will you stay for me?” “Luna, why do you have to compete with Seraphina?” “When did you become so petty?” The face in my memories became stranger and stranger, yet more real. I realized I would never mean as much to him as Seraphina. But it didn’t matter. I stopped caring a long time ago. My neck burned with pain. My limbs started to shake. Finally, Maya stopped him. Elias threw me aside. I hit the hard floor, pain shooting through my arm like needles. Before I could recover, Elias spoke, his voice icy. “Maya always told me to watch out for you.” “I didn’t believe her.” “Now I see. You really are a viper.” His words were frozen daggers. Elias smashed everything in my room. “I won’t allow anyone to hurt Seraphina,” he raged. He didn’t even spare the ceramic cats on the corner of my desk. Shattered porcelain littered the floor. Elias seemed to forget that he made those cats for me. When I was younger, I raised stray cats, but they all passed away one by one. When Elias found out, he took me to a pottery studio. He clumsily made those ceramic “Cat Gods” for me, getting covered in mud but not caring. That day, he held them up, smiling tenderly. “Luna, they are just keeping you company in a different way.” By the time I snapped back to reality, my face was covered in cold tears.

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We were so broke I couldn’t even book a guest role, so my girlfriend, Ava, and I were crammed into a shoebox apartment in the city’s grimiest borough. Every evening, we’d go to the market to pick through the leftover vegetables the vendors were throwing out. To save on electricity, we used old candles for light. One night, a fierce storm rolled through, flooding our tiny apartment. Ava, soaked to the bone, huddled in my arms for warmth. I swore to myself then that one day, I would get her out of there, into a big house, and give her the life she deserved. But before I could make good on that promise, she was gone, killed in a fire that consumed everything. For a long time after, I was a ghost. Then, by a stroke of luck, a young director saw something in my haunted eyes and cast me as the lead in a web series. It was a hit. I skyrocketed to fame. Three years later, I became the youngest actor to win the industry’s highest award. The world admired my success. No one knew that every ounce of effort, every sleepless night, was just my way of paying a debt to Ava. Now, I had finally done it. I could finally let go and join her. But on the very night I decided to end my life, my girlfriend, dead for three years, appeared before me, alive and breathing. … Tonight was the wrap party, a thank-you dinner organized by my agent for the film’s producers. It was also the night I planned to announce my retirement from acting. The wind whipping off the river was bone-chilling, but the woman sitting in the seat of honor across from me froze the very blood in my veins. She wore a gown of flowing satin, her long hair swept up to reveal a swan-like neck. She was the picture of elegance, a vision of aristocratic grace. But her face… it was identical to the face of my girlfriend, the one who had died three years ago. Even the tiny mole just below the corner of her eye was in the exact same spot. The director was beside her, pouring her a glass of Lafite. “You’re too kind,” she said, her voice a clipped, aristocratic murmur. Those two simple words were enough to make the wine glass tremble in my hand. That voice had echoed in my dreams for a thousand nights. I would hear a similar cadence in a crowd and whip my head around, searching. I never thought I’d hear it again in this lifetime. My agent nudged me under the table. “Liam. The director is toasting you.” I snapped back to reality, meeting the director’s teasing gaze. “What’s this, Mr. Shaw? You see our film’s main investor and you can’t look away? Don’t tell me you and our Miss Thorne are old acquaintances?” Miss Thorne. I rolled the name around in my mind. The director turned to the woman, clearly expecting an answer. Miss Thorne merely leaned back in her chair, her tone distant and cool. “I don’t know him.” She glanced at me for a fraction of a second, her eyes as cold and indifferent as if she were looking at a complete stranger, before looking away. But I couldn’t tear my gaze from her. The eyes, the voice, even the surname was the same. How could I believe she wasn’t my Ava? “Liam, stop staring. You’re making Miss Thorne uncomfortable,” my agent whispered urgently in my ear. I lowered my eyes, forcing the words out. “I’m sorry. I mistook her for someone else.” Someone at the table chuckled. “Come on, Liam. Miss Thorne is the princess of this city. You can’t just compare her to anyone.” “If you said something like that in public, the Thorne family would have your head. We couldn’t protect you,” another added. The woman acted as if she hadn’t heard a word, sipping her wine. It wasn’t until her phone buzzed that she rose from her seat. “Enjoy yourselves. I have to take this call.” My seat was near the door. The hem of her gown brushed against me as she passed, leaving an icy chill in its wake. I rubbed my frozen arm, taking a moment before I could speak to my agent. “Miss Thorne…” “Liam, she’s not her.” My agent cut me off immediately. He’d been with me for three years; he knew my entire past. “Miss Thorne is the sole heir to one of the richest families on the East Coast. She’s the CEO of Celestial Entertainment, the biggest player in the industry. This restaurant we’re in? She owns it. In fact, her family’s name is on the deed for nearly every building from the west side of the river to the next district over.” His face was deadly serious. “Liam Shaw, don’t be a fool,” he warned again. “If you anger the Thornes, there won’t be a place for us in this industry, or even this city.” The words I wanted to say died in my throat. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling window, I could see her standing outside, poised and regal. She was a world away from the Ava I had known. She wasn’t my love. I repeated it to myself like a mantra. But when the door opened again and she stepped back inside, my body moved on its own. I reached out and grabbed her arm. “Miss Thorne, you look so much like… an old friend of mine.” She pulled her arm free, her eyes dropping to mine, filled with a chilling condescension. “Mr. Shaw, that pickup line was outdated ten years ago.” A wave of laughter rippled through the room, mocking my clumsy attempt, my utter foolishness. My agent quickly stepped in front of me, bowing to her. “I’m so sorry, Miss Thorne. My client has had a bit too much to drink tonight.” He raised his glass. “I hope we still have the opportunity to work together in the future.” He drained the glass in one go. Others at the table started making excuses for me, trying to smooth things over. Miss Thorne didn’t deign to reply. She simply walked back to her seat, picked up her handbag, and headed for the door. “My mother is expecting me home. Goodnight.” I watched her back until she disappeared from view, then finally closed the door. The party broke up soon after. I walked out of the restaurant and looked at the glittering skyline. I remembered when I was just a broke kid, walking this same riverfront with Ava in my arms. “When I make it big,” I’d told her, “I’m going to propose to you right here.” The memory was so vivid it hurt. “Liam, should I take you back to the apartment?” I tore my eyes from the view and nodded to my agent. Half an hour later, I was back in the shoebox. No one would ever believe that the reigning king of the silver screen lived in a space smaller than a hundred square feet. But this place held every memory I had of Ava. I couldn’t bear to lose this last connection to her. I had bought the entire floor, renovating every apartment except this one, leaving it exactly as it had been. The photo of Ava and me on the wall was faded and yellowing. I walked over and gently smoothed down a corner that had begun to curl. “Ava, I’m home.” I still remembered how she’d made me promise to greet her every time I came back. For a second, I could almost hear her excited reply. “Look who’s home, our future superstar!” A smile touched my lips. I leaned in to kiss her image on the photo, but my hand accidentally hit the light switch beside it. The room flooded with harsh, sudden light. And just like that, my Ava vanished. The glare was so bright it made my eyes water. “Ava,” I whispered to the photograph, a painful tightness gripping my chest. “I saw someone today who looked just like you. So much like you, I almost ran up and held her.” But I hadn’t. Because I knew my Ava was never coming back. The fire three years ago had burned her life, and my heart, to ashes. From the street below, I could hear the happy sounds of a family. I watched them, a perfect picture of the life Ava and I should have had. It was like waking from a dream. How could I be so foolish as to give up everything to join her? I had the power now. I could give her a better life, even in death. I would take her ashes and travel the world. I’d walk the equator and see the northern lights. I would visit every temple, every sacred place, and pray for her, accumulating merit for her next life. My phone buzzed repeatedly. My agent was sending me script after script. I tapped out a single reply. I’m retiring. My phone exploded with frantic calls and texts. I blocked his number and began to pack. I carefully placed the last photo of Ava in my bag. I switched off the light in the shoebox apartment and dragged my suitcase to the door. But just as I was about to open it, there was a frantic knocking from the other side. I opened the door, and a familiar figure stumbled into my arms. It was Miss Thorne. She reeked of alcohol, her face flushed an unnatural red. I had no idea why she was like this, or how she had found me here. The heavy slam of the door behind her snapped me back to reality. I tried to push her away, but she threw me back onto the sofa with surprising strength. “Miss Thorne!” The rest of my words were swallowed as her lips crashed down on mine. What happened next was a blur, with Miss Thorne in complete control. Her mouth was on mine as she tore at my clothes. In the pale moonlight filtering through the window, her face merged completely with Ava’s. I couldn’t fight it anymore. I flipped her over, pressing her into the cushions. “Liam… Liam…” she gasped, her voice thick with pleasure. The sound sent a shockwave through me. In the final, desperate moments, I gritted my teeth and cried out the name that had haunted my soul. “Ava!” Her eyes were wide and unfocused as she stared up at me. We moved together, again and again, as if we could never get enough. Finally, exhausted, we collapsed into sleep. The next morning, I woke up on the sofa. I was alone. I shot upright. My clothes were neatly folded on a chair, and the shoebox apartment was clean and tidy. It was as if the whole thing had been a fever dream. No. It couldn’t have been a dream. The searing heat of her skin, the raw passion of our encounter, the familiar curves of her body. It wasn’t a dream. She was Ava. At that thought, my long-dormant heart began to hammer against my ribs. My hands shook as I unblocked my agent, intending to ask for Miss Thorne’s number. Instead, I saw a string of pathetic, pleading emojis from him. “Boss, I know you’ve just been holding on by a thread these past few years.” “I promise, just shoot this one reality show, and I’ll get you a long vacation.” Attached was a presentation for the show. A competitive acting program. They wanted me as a judge. There were four other judges listed. One of them was Miss Thorne. Ava Thorne. Seeing her name in print, I almost laughed out loud. I dialed my agent’s number. Before he could speak, I cut him off. “I’ll do it. I’ll do the show.” On the other end of the line, he sounded like he was about to weep with joy. “Boss, you just saved my life!” It turned out the company had already signed the contract. I mumbled a few placating words and hung up. The details from her bio in the presentation flashed in my mind. Why had she lied to me? Why did she pretend not to know me now? Was there any chance for us? The questions swirled in my head. On the first day of filming, I was determined to get answers. But when I arrived, I saw her standing beside a handsome, distinguished-looking man. They were close, sitting together for their pre-show interview. “Commissioner Vance, are you participating in this show just to be with Miss Thorne?” the interviewer asked. The man, Marcus Vance, turned to her, his smile radiating pure adoration. “Of course.” A chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” went through the crew. “I can’t believe the city’s Deputy Police Commissioner would lower himself to be a reality show judge, even for the woman he loves.” “It’s no surprise! Commissioner Vance goes wherever Miss Thorne goes. They’re definitely a couple!” “The righteous commissioner and the ice queen CEO? I am so shipping this!” I stood to the side, watching them, feeling my heart plummet into a dark abyss. Just two days ago, she had been in my arms. Now, she was at another man’s side. I numbly went through my own interview and retreated to my hotel room. I tossed and turned for hours before finally giving in to the overwhelming need to see her. I walked to her door. Taking a deep breath, I knocked. “Ava, it’s me.” I heard a rustling inside and quickly straightened my collar. The door opened. I kept my head down, the words I’d been rehearsing tumbling out. “Ava, I don’t know why you lied to me, or why you’re pretending not to know me now. But I need you to know, I’ve missed you every single day for the past three years. I never forgot you for a second. Can we please… can we try again?” I waited. The silence stretched. It wasn’t the answer I was expecting. Instead, a strange man’s voice replied. “You are… Liam Shaw?” I snapped my head up and saw Marcus Vance standing in the doorway. My heartfelt confession had been delivered to the wrong audience. My lips moved, but no sound came out. I could only stand there, mortified, clutching the chain around my neck. It was the necklace Ava and I had shared, our pledge to each other. I’d worn it every day since she died. Just then, Ava emerged from the balcony. A flash of surprise crossed her face when she saw me, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance. “Mr. Shaw, I believe I made myself clear the other day,” she said, her voice like ice. “Why are you still harassing me?” Harassing. So that’s what this was to her. A wave of grief and anger washed over me. “Ava, this isn’t harassment,” I said through gritted teeth. “Have you forgotten? Have you forgotten how happy we were three years ago?” “Just two nights ago, you came to my apartment, we…” “Enough!” she snapped. “Mr. Shaw, I’ve only met you once. I don’t know what past you’re talking about. If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police.” She pulled out her phone and started dialing, right in front of me. Marcus Vance stepped forward. “Mr. Shaw,” he said, his tone a calm warning. “I don’t know what’s between you and Ava. But I’m sure you don’t want tomorrow’s headlines to be about you.” I stood frozen in the doorway, my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. The sharp pain was a distant echo of the agony in my heart. The phone began to ring. I forced myself to take a step back, clearing the doorway. Ava immediately hung up. “See? Was that so hard? You always force me to be cruel.” She took Marcus’s arm and slammed the door in my face. Her every word, every action, screamed that she was not the Ava I knew. The closed door was a blade, slicing the past from the present. I stood there for a long time, until my hands and feet were numb, then slowly, mechanically, walked back to my room. The next day, the producers organized a “get-to-know-you” hot pot dinner. I arrived on time with the others. We waited half an hour for Ava and Marcus. They walked in arm-in-arm, looking for all the world like a couple in love. I gripped my chopsticks, mechanically dropping vegetables into the bubbling pot. “Miss Thorne, Commissioner Vance, you two are inseparable,” one of the producers teased. “Are we going to be hearing wedding bells soon?” They didn’t answer, just started serving themselves. The dinner was a cheerful affair for everyone else. Marcus repeatedly filled Ava’s plate. Ava, in turn, acted like any doting girlfriend, wiping his brow and rinsing his food in a bowl of water to cool it down. “Marcus can’t handle spicy food,” she told the table. “Make sure to leave some things for the plain broth.” Her solicitous words were like needles in my heart. That tender care had once been reserved for me. I hated cilantro, and she would painstakingly pick every last speck of it out of my noodle soup. Now, all her gentleness was for another man. The beef in my bowl tasted like ash. I lowered my head and forced myself to eat. Ssss! A searing pain shot up my arm. I looked down. My entire forearm was covered in angry red blisters. “I’m so sorry, so sorry!” a young waiter babbled, dabbing at my arm with a wet cloth. The crew rushed over. “That’s a bad burn! We need to get you to a hospital!” They helped me up and led me out. Through it all, Ava never once glanced in my direction. It was as if the injured man was a complete stranger to her. A profound sense of powerlessness crushed me. I started to wonder if I had been wrong all along. Maybe this Ava wasn’t my Ava. Maybe they just shared a name and a face. Or maybe she had grown tired of me and faked her death to escape. But how could I give up on the hope I had waited three years for? I took off the necklace from around my neck, rubbing the familiar pendant between my fingers. One last time, I told myself. I have to try one last time. After my arm was treated, I returned to the hotel. With the desperation of a moth drawn to a flame, I clutched the necklace and knocked on her door again. It opened quickly. When she saw it was me, a look of utter disgust crossed her face. She started to close the door. I blocked it with my foot, holding out the necklace like a holy relic. “Ava, look. Our pledge. I still have it.” I expected a flicker of emotion, of recognition. Instead, she gave a cold, dismissive laugh and slapped my hand away. The necklace flew from my grasp and shattered on the hard floor. In that moment, I heard my own heart shatter along with it. I dropped to my knees, scrambling to gather the broken pieces. I tried desperately to fit them back together, but it was impossible. “Mr. Shaw. How much was it? I’ll pay you for it.” So that’s all it was to her. Just an object. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, slowly collecting every last fragment into my pocket. When I had them all, I shakily got to my feet and met her indifferent gaze. “It wasn’t worth much, Miss Thorne. You don’t have to pay.” I heard my own voice, trembling but defiant. “I won’t bother you again.” I didn’t wait to see her reaction. I turned and walked away. I heard the door click shut behind me. A bitter laugh escaped me. She was probably celebrating with Marcus right now, finally free of the pathetic dog who kept chasing her. The truth didn’t matter anymore. Whether we could be together didn’t matter. In that moment, I knew with absolute clarity: my Ava was well and truly gone. My eyes burned, and my heart pounded against my ribs as if it would burst. I broke into a run, storming into the production studio. “I’m quitting the show,” I announced to the stunned directors. “Mr. Shaw, we were negligent about what happened yesterday, but surely it’s not enough to quit over!” “Yes, your injury was our fault! We’ll pay you double the compensation, as per your contract.” I looked at each of them, my voice firm. “I’m quitting.” Seeing they couldn’t persuade me, the director tried a different tactic. “If you break contract before the halfway point, the penalty is three times the fee.” I nodded. “I know. My agent will handle the payment. I won’t default.” With that, I turned and left. Back at the hotel, I packed my bags. At three in the morning, I called my agent. “I’ve spoken to the directors. I’m leaving the show, effective today. Settle the penalty with them, let me know the final amount, and I’ll wire it to you.” He groaned on the other end of the line. “Liam, my dear, sweet, superstar client! You promised you’d do the show! Why are you quitting now? Did someone upset you? Tell me, I’ll handle it.” I was silent for a long moment. “Before I agreed to this,” I asked quietly, “did you already know Ava Thorne was going to be on it?” He let out a long, weary sigh. “I knew it.” He mumbled something, then cleared his throat. “Liam, we’ve worked together for three years. I know you can’t let your ex-girlfriend go. But her death certificate is black and white. She’s been gone for three years. It’s time to move on!” But I couldn’t. She was still in my dreams every night.

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1 Getting off my late-night shift, I treated a runaway kid to a cup of instant ramen. The girl didn’t have a dime to her name, but she was all bravado, insisting that once she was back home, she’d set me up with her older sister. I mumbled a refusal through a mouthful of noodles, telling her there was someone I still couldn’t get over. She wasn’t having it. She claimed I just hadn’t tasted the good stuff yet—that there was no woman on earth better than her sister. That got my back up. In a fit of pique, I pulled up my ex-girlfriend’s Wikipedia page and shoved the phone in her face. The kid’s expression shifted strangely as she scanned the screen, then her eyes flicked back up to me. “Bro-in-law?” … The scalding broth burned my tongue, and I hissed in pain, not quite catching what she’d said. I tilted my head, looking at the girl whose cheeks were puffed out with food. “What was that?” She chewed hard a couple of times, then propped her chin on her hand, her eyes sweeping over me from head to toe. Her voice was laced with disbelief. “You’re telling me… this Sophia Laurent… is your ex-girlfriend?” I let out a smug little humph and snatched my phone back, waving it at her. “That’s right. What do you think? Told you your sister couldn’t possibly compare.” The kid’s face twisted into an even stranger expression, her lips twitching like she was about to have a seizure. I eyed her cautiously, subtly sliding my cup of ramen a little further away from her. I’d barely moved it an inch when two slender fingers caught the edge of the cup. My head snapped around. A face so familiar it made my heart stop was suddenly inches from mine. For a split second, I almost believed the woman from my memories was really here. But the illusion shattered the moment the girl’s young, high-pitched voice broke the silence. “Hey, so… how’d you and your ex break up?” My eyelid twitched. I turned away, unable to look at that miniature version of her face any longer. “You’re a kid. Don’t be so nosy about grown-up stuff.” Five years since the breakup, and I still had zero defense against anyone who looked even remotely like Sophia. Earlier that night, I’d been wrapping my coat tighter, about to hail a cab after my shift. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure huddled on the curb. Under the hazy yellow streetlights, her profile glowed like porcelain, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed, over and over. I practically stumbled out of the cab I’d just opened, tripping over my own feet as I rushed toward her. “Soph—” The name died in my throat the second the small girl looked up. It wasn’t her. I’d mistaken someone for her again. The girl, a good head shorter than me, stared up with wary eyes, though her tone was polite. “Mister, can I help you?” Just then, an embarrassed gurgle echoed in the cold night air. I forced a tight smile, pulled out my work ID and driver’s license, and slapped them into her palm before pointing to a convenience store down the street. “Call me Liam. And it’s my good deed for the day. I’m buying you something to eat. You in?” And that’s how I ended up with this little chatterbox sitting next to me. “Hey, Liam! C’mon!” “Just tell me! Why did you two really break up?” “Think of it as your second good deed. Satisfy the burning curiosity of a girl in the prime of her youth.” I spun the plastic fork in my hand, failing miserably to spear the last slippery fish cake in my cup. “There’s nothing to tell. Sometimes things just don’t work out, and you go your separate ways. That’s all.” She let out a skeptical “Tch.” “There’s always a reason things don’t work out.” “I know! It must have been the evil queen—” She cut herself off, clearing her throat awkwardly as I shot her a confused look. “I mean, in these kinds of princess-and-the-pauper stories, there’s always an evil queen, right?” “Liam, did you break up because her mom came to see you?” “Did she hand you a fifty-million-dollar check?” The kid’s wild imagination made me laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you.” “It was a mutual breakup. Peaceful.” Truth be told, during the three years I was with Sophia, I lived in a constant state of anxiety, waiting for her family to show up at my door. I’d imagined all sorts of scenarios: being handed a fat check, being dragged to some lavish club to be shown just how wide the gap between our worlds was. But in the five years since we parted, I never once met a single member of Sophia’s family. Even when Sophia broke up with me, it was just… quiet. We calmly finished a cup of ramen at a convenience store, walked out the door, and went in opposite directions without looking back. Our story began like the cheesiest of fairy tales. Back then, I was an intern at a soul-crushing tech giant, basically a walking zombie. Sophia had just returned to the States, launching a startup with a few friends, navigating a gauntlet of boozy client meetings and networking events. Three in the morning in New York City. A drunk-as-a-skunk Sophia was leaning against the railing by the river, letting the wind sober her up. I thought she was about to jump. I offered her a pre-packaged sandwich from a 7-Eleven. The moment her eyes met mine, I knew I’d made a ridiculous mistake. A person like her would never do something that foolish. I started to pull the sandwich back, mortified and ready to bolt. But then she let out a soft laugh and plucked it from my hand. “Thanks. My stomach was killing me.” That was the first time I saw Sophia Laurent. She was in a sharp power suit, her eyes glistening from the alcohol, but her gaze felt like a cool evening breeze off the water. And just like that, through a bizarre twist of fate, we exchanged numbers. She was always swamped, but she’d patiently listen to me rant about my boss and my dead-end job. I was busy too, but I always found time in my chaotic schedule to think about her. I thought we were just two kindred spirits, fellow wage slaves drowning in the corporate grind. It was only later that I learned our worlds were separated by an uncrossable chasm. It happened one night when my boss dragged me, the token intern, to a dinner with a bunch of lecherous old suits. When a hand landed on my ass and gave it a squeeze, I reacted on instinct. I threw my drink in the guy’s face and drove my elbow hard into his chest. The scene descended into chaos. My boss threatened my full-time offer, demanding I apologize by chugging a bottle of red wine. The creep I’d hit was screaming that he’d have me thrown in jail. Face grim, I called the cops. In the middle of the mess, I managed to answer a call from Sophia. She arrived before the police did. She stood at the entrance of the private dining room, flanked by a group of serious-looking men, and gave me a casual little wave. “A bunch of old predators playing entrapment games with a kid fresh out of college,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Have you no shame?” “You like playing with men’s asses so much? Maybe I should get some people to give you a real good time.” The once-raucous room fell silent. I instinctively glanced at the investor who’d been screaming for compensation. His face was ashen, his eyes wide with pure terror as he stared at Sophia. That was the first time I got a real glimpse of the world she inhabited. But I was twenty-two then. I still believed love could move mountains. I dove headfirst into the river that was Sophia Laurent, armed with nothing but reckless courage. And because of that, I let myself feel so many things I never should have. The year we broke up, we were still in love. But we were exhausted by it. She’d turned down an arranged match for me. And as a result, the company she had poured her heart and soul into was destroyed. The day it was officially liquidated, I went to her office to find her. The once-bustling floor was eerily empty. There was only Sophia, standing alone before the floor-to-ceiling windows. I took a deep breath, walked up, and wrapped my arms around her from behind. She turned and collapsed into my embrace, holding me so tightly her voice was muffled and raw. “Liam… I might have nothing left after this. Are you going to regret it?” I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, then forced a lighthearted tone as I pulled back to squeeze her cheeks. “Whoever regrets it is a loser.” But I never imagined the rules of her world were so much crueler than I thought. A complete and total industry blacklist. She was so thoroughly shut out that the only job she could find was waiting tables at a stuffy French restaurant. I went to see her there. She was swimming in an ill-fitting uniform, navigating the maze of tables with a heavy tray. The hands that once flew across a keyboard now struggled to balance scalding hot plates. It was the dead of winter, the coldest it had been in years. Her hands were raw and swollen with chilblains, a painful mix of red and purple. No matter how much ointment I applied, they wouldn’t heal. I stared at those hands, my voice cracking. “Sophia, I can support you. I’ll work three jobs, four jobs, whatever it takes.” I buried my face in her stomach, desperate to hide my tears. “My Sophia… my Sophia is supposed to be the proudest woman in the world. She deserves the best of everything…” “Not this… she shouldn’t be like this…” A hand stroked my hair, again and again. Sophia’s voice trembled. “It’s okay. This will pass.” But her strength only made my own pain sharper. So sharp I couldn’t sleep for nights on end. Until one afternoon, her childhood friend found me. He was dressed in a simple black overcoat, not the arrogant rich kid I’d pictured, but more like a model straight out of a fashion magazine. “I’m not here to steal her from you,” he said, getting straight to the point. He slid his phone across the table to me. “I just think you should see who she was meant to be.” I took the phone. On the screen, a younger, brighter Sophia stood on an auditorium stage. She was in a white dress, her eyes shining as she passionately described her vision for the future. The proud, brilliant woman in the video and the woman with chilblains on her hands were two different people. Her friend’s voice was gentle, but his eyes held a calm, piercing pity. “She was meant to change the world, Liam. Not be changed by it.” He was tactful, saying no more. But watching the radiant Sophia in the video, I suddenly understood. Love can’t move mountains. Not all of them. There were some ladders I could never climb, and I couldn’t be selfish enough to drag the moon from the heavens down into the dust with me. I could shoulder any hardship myself, but I couldn’t stand by and watch the light in my Sophia get extinguished by life. I walked home that day, every step heavy with tears. When I opened the door, Sophia was kneeling by the window, watering a half-dead spider plant. The setting sun streamed through the dusty glass, stretching her shadow long across the floor. I just stood there in the doorway, watching her for a long, long time. As if trying to memorize a lifetime’s worth of her. But then she turned and smiled at me. “By next spring, it should finally flower.” Hiding in the shadows of the doorway, I spoke softly. “Sophia… maybe we should just… let this go.” The watering can in her hand froze mid-air. She set it down gently. There were no questions, no arguments. She just looked at me, her gaze steady. Then she walked over and raised a hand to my face. “This is the first time you’ve ever let me see you cry.” “Liam… am I making you this unhappy? So unhappy you can’t stand it anymore?” “Can’t we just try a little longer?” Every ounce of my strength went into fighting the urge to pull her into my arms. I didn’t even have the energy to shake my head. After a long silence, Sophia’s hand slid from my cheek. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “Okay. I’ll let you go.” I leaned against the doorframe, covering my eyes with my hand, sobbing too hard to form a single word. After that, Sophia became the moon in the sky once more. Her face was a regular feature on the covers of business magazines. I never saw her again. A sigh broke through my thoughts, right next to my ear. “Dude, a grown man crying like that is seriously weird.” I snapped back to reality, turning my head away in embarrassment to wipe my eyes. “Whose fault is that? It’s all ancient history, and you just had to make me dig it all up.” The girl, Chloe, pouted, her amber eyes darting around before she suddenly leaned in close. “Hey, Liam. Could you call my sister for me?” I looked at her, confused. She grinned, revealing two small canine teeth, her tone shamelessly righteous. “I regret running away. Call her and tell her to come pick me up.” I dialed the number. Someone picked up almost immediately, but the sound was punctuated by a few coughs. The familiar timbre of that voice made my hand tremble. But Chloe snatched the phone away. “Sis! Sis! I was wrong! Come get me, please!” There was a moment of silence on the other end, just the sound of slightly labored breathing, then a response. “Whose phone are you using?” The phone was shoved back into my hand. I automatically said, “Hello?” This time, the silence stretched even longer. It was followed by a few more suppressed coughs, then the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. “Wait for me. I’ll be there in half an hour.” The line went dead, but I stood there, stunned, for a long time. Then my phone started vibrating. A message from my boss in the work group chat, demanding a file immediately. That tiny, strange feeling in my heart was instantly forgotten. I grabbed my coat and started to leave. But Chloe, who was now happily picking out snacks, blocked my path, letting out a theatrical wail. “Liam! Don’t go! Wait for my sister to get here!” I kept my head down, replying to the messages as I fished a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and pressed it into her hand. “I can’t, I really have to go. You just eat and wait for your sister, okay?” With that, I jogged out of the convenience store. I walked quickly towards my office building, my eyes glued to my phone as I dealt with the work emergency. Just then, a white Bentley turned onto the street, cruising slowly. The headlights made me look up instinctively. Strange. A car that understated and luxurious had a simple, slightly crooked drawing of a sunflower on the side. My feet suddenly felt heavy. When we were together, I’d spent most of my savings on a luxury bracelet for Sophia. Tucked inside the gift box, I’d cringe-inducingly placed a small card. It was blank, except for my drawing of a sunflower. Sophia had asked me what the flower meant. I’d turned red and refused to tell her. She studied that card in front of me for three whole days. Finally, worn down, I’d leaned in and whispered in her ear: “You’re my sun. You’re the most precious thing in the world to me.” She’d frozen for a second, then stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Idiot.” But the reality was, she was born a sun. She didn’t need the admiration of a weed like me to shine. We had just briefly crossed paths in the vast expanse of time. Then the sun returned to its rightful place in the sky, and I returned to my roots in the dirt.

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The Mexican Black Kingsnake I raised for five years only responded to my body heat. His favorite thing was wrapping himself around my neck, flicking his tongue against my collarbone in an affectionate display. But after returning from a two-week business trip, I suddenly heard his inner thoughts: [Hiss… that pretty lady who fed me these past few days has amazing hands. I want her to scratch my belly…] [Hiss, even the way she placed the mice was perfect.] [Snake wants to go home with her.] I laughed out of sheer anger. I called my assistant right then and there: “Get me a Hognose snake. Within ten minutes.” “And make sure it’s not stupid.” 1 The moment I pushed open the door, the smart lights illuminated the entire penthouse. Despite the exhaustion clinging to me from the trip, all I could think about was Onyx—my Mexican Black Kingsnake of five years. This little guy had a quirky temper. For five years, he would only settle down if he felt my body heat. I was busy with work and didn’t have much time for him. Usually, after a short trip, no matter how late it was, I’d let him coil around me first, feeling that faint warmth beneath his icy scales. Onyx loved wrapping around my neck, as if marking his territory. His forked tongue flickering against my collarbone felt like a silent declaration, or maybe just affection. I once thought this bond was unique to us. “Onyx, Mama’s home.” Even though I wasn’t sure if snakes understood human speech, I greeted him out of habit. I dropped my suitcase and walked toward the climate-controlled glass vivarium, my voice betraying an eagerness I hadn’t noticed. “Did you miss Mama?” Inside the glass enclosure, the snake, black as satin, moved slowly and lifted his head. His emerald eyes gleamed coldly under the lights. He slithered toward the opening, habitually reaching for my outstretched finger. Just like always. But just as his small head was about to touch my fingertip, just as I was anticipating the cool touch of his scales… A clear, unfamiliar voice rang in my ear without warning: [Hiss… the pretty lady’s technique was better. Scratching felt so good, made my whole body tingle.] My finger froze in mid-air, twitching involuntarily. Who said that? I whipped my head around. The spacious apartment was empty, save for one person and one snake. Was I hallucinating? I stared incredulously at the Black Kingsnake in front of me. He seemed confused too, tilting his black head, flicking his blue-purple tongue, hissing softly. We stared at each other. He looked innocent, as if asking why I hadn’t petted him yet. Must have… heard it wrong. I took a deep breath, suppressing my erratic heartbeat, and reached out to touch Onyx again. He dodged. He. Dodged. Me. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I stood frozen. What was happening? In five years, aside from being shy at the very beginning, Onyx had never avoided my touch. He knew my scent! He knew my temperature! I refused to believe it. I reached for his head again. Hiss— In a flash, Onyx’s head retracted violently. He opened his mouth wide, letting out a threatening hiss. It was a pre-strike warning. If I moved another inch, he would lunge and constrict without hesitation. [Don’t touch Snake!] [Uncomfortable.] [Dirty.] It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me. I was chilled to the bone. 2 [Tsk, Owner is clumsy. Always shoves food in the corner, making Snake go hunt it down.] [Unlike Pretty Lady. She fed Snake right to the mouth. Just had to lift my head to bite.] [Owner’s petting technique sucks too. Sometimes pets against the scales. Almost annoyed Snake to death.] [And always kissing Snake. Smells weird. Snake doesn’t like it. Annoying.] [Miss Pretty Lady. Want Pretty Lady to scratch Snake’s belly.] The barrage of thoughts hit me, making me dizzy. Was this… Onyx’s inner monologue? The smile on my face stiffened, then vanished. Blood rushed to my head, then drained away just as fast. For this two-week trip, afraid he’d go hungry, I hired a temporary pet sitter at a high rate. Her resume was impressive, a supposed reptile enthusiast. Impressive. Yeah. Impressive indeed! I straightened up slowly, looking down at Onyx in the glass tank. He seemed to realize his aggression was inappropriate and shrank back slightly. But in those eyes—eyes I used to call the most beautiful emeralds—there was a lingering longing for that “Pretty Lady.” [Hiss… hiss… Snake misses Pretty Lady. She smells so good. Unlike Owner, too pungent…] [Snake wants to go home with Pretty Lady.] It felt like someone had chiseled a hole in my heart, the wind whistling through it. Five years of meticulous care. The climate-controlled tank alone cost me tens of thousands. I even shortened my trips because I was afraid he’d be lonely. And a two-week absence gets me “I want to go home with Pretty Lady”? The absurdity and the rage of betrayal made my heart tremble. But then, I laughed softly. I took out my phone and dialed my assistant directly. “Get me a Hognose snake. Within ten minutes.” My voice was surprisingly calm. My assistant on the other end was clearly confused. “Huh? Ms. Su, you mean… a Hognose?” “Yes, a Hognose.” I stared at Onyx, whose body had gone rigid inside the tank. I enunciated every word clearly. “I want an adult. The best specimen you can find. And—” I drew out the syllable. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Onyx poking his head out, staring at me. Fear, confusion, inquiry… He was observing me. “If it’s stupid, I don’t want it.” I hung up. The air was dead silent. I watched Onyx slowly retract his head. His voice sounded in my ear again. [Hognose? That idiot snake that plays dead when scared?] [Too dumb. Only good for being a human pet.] [But good food for Snake. Just right.] [Owner still cares about Snake. Feeding me snake instead of mice now.] The funniest part was hearing the smugness in his tone. [Must be compensation for leaving Snake alone for so long.] [Every time Owner goes on a long hunt, she brings back good stuff. All-you-can-eat mice, comfier bedding, and…] I hadn’t expected that walnut-sized brain of his to remember so much. He remembered all the good I did for him. Did that mean… there was still a chance to reconcile? A flicker of hope rose in my chest, only to be extinguished by his next thought: [Snake is willing to let Owner go hunting more often.] [That way Snake gets yummy food and gets to see Pretty Lady.] [Owner can stay gone forever. Just provide food.] … Ha. My face went cold instantly. Dream on. Too bad the good life he fantasized about was never going to happen. 3 While waiting for my assistant, I sat near the vivarium and worked. My mind wasn’t on it. I didn’t have many hobbies, but I had a natural affinity for snakes. Even as a kid at the zoo, I only wanted to see the pythons in the reptile house. Other kids cried in fear; I wanted to climb in and sleep with them. Cold-blooded animals that lay in wait, gathering strength to deliver a fatal strike. I admired that. So five years ago, when I started my business from nothing and finally became “Ms. Su,” my first gift to myself was Onyx. He was my first and only pet. I took care of him with everything I had. Even on business trips, I demanded daily reports, photos, and videos. I bought him the cleanest, most tender mice and filled his bowl with premium mineral water. And in return, he proved fickle. I slammed my laptop shut. I let out a long breath. It’s just a snake. If his heart changed, then I didn’t want him anymore. The doorbell rang. My assistant squeezed through the door, hugging a box, sweating profusely. “Ms. Su, here’s the Hognose you asked for… I bought it…” She sat on the floor, carefully placing the box down. I opened it. A beautiful yellow-and-white Hognose snake flinched, sensing the change in environment. It looked up with blood-red beady eyes, appearing very confused. My assistant caught her breath and asked, “Ms. Su, is this… food for Onyx?” She had learned a thing or two about snakes from me over the years. “But… snake eating snake… isn’t that dangerous?” “What if it hurts Onyx…” I smiled and shook my head. “It won’t.” “Huh?” The assistant was lost. I didn’t explain. I pointed to Onyx’s tank. “You know how to catch a snake, right?” “Y-yes.” “Good.” I stood up, holding the Hognose box, and winked at her. “Take Onyx out and clean the tank.” “Then put this Hognose in.” Onyx, who had lived in a luxury villa for five years, was getting evicted. 4 My assistant was stunned. She had been with me for a long time. Back when the company was just starting and the pay wasn’t great. She was a fresh grad who knew nothing but handed me her resume. I saw she was willing to work, so I kept her. She watched me raise Onyx. She knew how much I cared. She opened her mouth to ask, but seeing my face, she swallowed her words. Rule number one of being an assistant: Don’t overanalyze the boss. She gulped and walked silently to Onyx’s tank. Onyx seemed to understand. He flattened his head, his blue-purple tongue flicking out with a warning hiss. [What is Owner doing! Why not feed Snake?] [Owner must be joking. Owner never lets anyone else touch Snake.] [Snake doesn’t like this human. Go away!] [Snake wants Pretty Lady! Pretty Lady!] His thoughts were giving me a headache. If there was a mute button for Onyx, I would have pressed it. “Ms. Su… ah!” The assistant was still scared of Onyx. Her finger barely entered the tank before Onyx struck, forcing her to recoil. She didn’t dare move again. She looked like she was about to cry. “Maybe you should do it… I’m scared…” Even though I told her Black Kingsnakes are non-venomous and constrictors. Their actual bite force might be less than the Hognose in my hand. But getting bitten by an adult snake isn’t fun. “Get the spare tank from over there. I’ll grab him.” “Okay!” Relieved, she ran to get the plastic tub. I walked up to Onyx and looked down at him indifferently. Seeing me, his small black head reached up, tongue flickering. [Owner, Owner, Snake hungry…] [Why haven’t you fed me the Hognose yet…] I reached out. Like always, he wrapped dependently around my finger. But the moment I touched him, I pinched his neck, right at the “seven-inch” mark (the vital spot). Hard. [Owner!] His panicked voice exploded in my ear. His tail instinctively wrapped around my hand, squeezing tight. A final struggle. [Owner! Pain! Can’t breathe!] [Owner!] His screams elicited zero sympathy. I tossed him into the spare tank my assistant held out. The spare tank was basic. Just substrate, a plastic hide, a heat mat, and a water bowl. Onyx landed in a daze, curled up on the floor. It took him a while to lift his head, trembling. My assistant looked shocked by my roughness. “Ms. Su, th-that’s Onyx… why…” I rotated my wrist, expression calm. “When I came back, he tried to attack me.” “Five years and he’s not tame. I don’t have time to waste on him.” “If you like him, take him.” She shook her head vigorously. “No, no, I can’t afford a snake.” “Just leave him there. I need to clean this tank. Give me a hand.” “O-okay, Ms. Su!” She closed the lid on the spare tank and helped me scrub the big vivarium. Snakes are sensitive to smell. I needed to wipe away every trace of Onyx so the Hognose could settle in. The process took three hours. Occasionally, I checked on the Hognose, not sparing a glance for Onyx on the floor. But I could hear his confused thoughts: [Is Owner cleaning the house for Snake?] [Snake knew it. Owner still loves Snake.] [But Owner hurt Snake too much! Snake has a temper now. Even with good food, Snake won’t talk to Owner!] [What is Owner saying… Snake attacked her? Snake is just a snake, couldn’t control instincts.] [Besides, Snake didn’t hurt Owner.] [Owner is so petty. Snake bit Pretty Lady before, and she didn’t throw Snake away. She called Snake strong…] Onyx, the dramatic snake, decided to ignore me and slithered into the plastic hide, leaving only his tail visible. I ignored his internal drama. Once the big tank was clean, I put the Hognose inside. This snake was either stupid or incredibly chill. The moment he was in, he started exploring. And his voice was full of wonder: [Wow, is this Snake’s new home?] [So big, so majestic, love it!] [Snake saw it. Owner cleaned it herself.] [Thank you, Owner!] Those two sweet “Owners” filled me with satisfaction. And amusement. So cute. Totally different from Onyx. They say you should leave a new snake alone for three days, but I gently tapped his little head. “From now on, your name is Sunny.” His yellow pattern looked like sunlight on snow.

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While filming a survival reality show on a deserted island, the producers confiscated my phone. In a panic, I used my burner phone to text my “sugar daddy” boyfriend, Julian. “We’re screwed, hubby! My lock screen is a nude photo of you!” Julian texted back: “Vivian, you’re just a canary I keep in a cage. Don’t get delusional.” Two seconds later… “Wait, what did you say?” 1 Julian fired off messages like a machine gun. “I haven’t seen you in a month and this is the surprise you give me?” “Does it show my face? Can people tell it’s me?” [Voice Message: 60”] [Voice Message: 60”] “Go ask the production crew for the phone back. Right now.” “No, steal it back. Don’t let anyone see you.” “Forget it, I’ll steal it. I’ve never been this humiliated in my life.” “Where are you filming? Send the address.” “Hello? Speak.” I was squatting behind a pitch-black tent, staring intensely at the screen. I sent the location, but the signal bar just kept spinning. I couldn’t even receive Julian’s messages anymore. I was sweating bullets. Suddenly, the camp loudspeaker blared. “Attention! Vivian Chen has been caught with a contraband phone, violating Island Rule #1.” “Punishment: Team 3 is responsible for making tomorrow’s breakfast.” I watched, dumbfounded, as the director, wearing a ghillie suit, jumped out of the bushes. He grinned evilly. “I knew someone wasn’t playing by the rules. Gotcha, Vivian! Here’s your mission card. Meet at the beach tomorrow at 5 AM.” I took the card. A camera shoved into my face, zooming in on my guilt and forced smile. Just then, a video call started ringing loudly. I answered it in a panic. Julian’s voice was on the edge of exploding. “Hello? What kind of vacation show confiscates phones? Is this even legal?” “Why aren’t you talking? Scared now? What were you thinking setting that as your wallpaper?” The director smelled gossip. Who would I be secretly contacting at midnight? 2 The camera light was blinding, like an interrogation lamp. They were looking for any crack in my expression. The director urged me, “Vivian, rules are rules. The whole country is watching.” My acting skills are floor-level, but I had to protect my meal ticket. I straightened up, put on a polite smile, and spoke into the phone. “The dog probably peed on the bed because he misses me. Uncle Ju, just wash the sheets and remember to walk him.” Silence on the other end for two seconds. Then, a mix of shock and rage: “Vivian Chen, are you treating me like a maid? Do you know who the boss is?” My heart was trembling. I calmly ended the conversation. “Okay, I won’t keep you. I’ll be back in seven days. Bye.” Before he could respond, I hung up. Click. First time hanging up on Julian in my life. It felt… exhilarating. The director took my burner phone and left on a boat. I went back to the campsite. My two teammates looked ready to eat me alive. Kyle, a former boy band idol wearing a khaki windbreaker, asked tentatively, “Vivian, are you saying that tomorrow at 5 AM, Team 3 has to go fishing without makeup or breakfast, wearing headlamps?” I smiled at him. “Yep.” The new “IT girl” actress, Layla, wrapped in a blanket, looked pissed. “Didn’t we all hand in our phones before coming to the island? How did you get caught with one?” I smiled at her too. “I had a spare.” Layla sneered. “The rules said no phones. You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” 3 I swear on Julian’s bank account, I didn’t do it on purpose. I have a work phone and a personal phone. To please my boss, my whole persona is “lovestruck girlfriend.” I fold the wrapping paper from his gifts into origami cranes and hang them up (even though I pay someone else to fold them). Setting his photo as my wallpaper is basic. As for why it’s a nude… Well, Julian’s body is top-tier. Mature, sexy, like a professional model. Those abs, that tight waist, those powerful thighs… it’s art. As for his face, which always looks like I owe him eight million dollars… well, I cropped that out. But Layla obviously didn’t believe me. She was already mad about not being able to go back to the hotel. Now that the cameras were off, her disgust was unrestrained. “I don’t know why resource-hogs like you come on these survival shows. You just cause trouble. Go do it yourself.” 4 Seven years in the industry, I was used to the shade. I didn’t get mad. I smiled. “Can’t help it. Too much business to handle, I forget things.” Layla rolled her eyes. “What are you so proud of? You just have a pretty face. Once Julian gets bored of you, you’ll be nothing.” Kyle was brutally honest. “Vivian, let’s keep our distance. I’m trying to be relatable, I don’t want to get dragged.” They went into their tents, treating me like the plague. They weren’t wrong. Most people in the industry knew Julian was my sugar daddy. Thanks to him, I was acting alongside Oscar-winner Rainie Yu before I even graduated high school. After that, I was in blockbuster after blockbuster. Seven years, non-stop resources. And non-stop hate. An old interview clip of 15-year-old me saying “I want to be a Movie Queen” became a meme. “Movie Queen” became my ironic nickname. My acting was constantly roasted. I didn’t even want to be a serious actress. With my face and Julian’s backing, I could have coasted on variety shows and sweet dramas. But I took this hardcore survival show. Why? Because Julian’s “white moonlight”—his first love—came back last month. Rainie Yu returned after sweeping the international awards. He couldn’t wait to throw all his resources at her. He had no time for his canary. I just wanted to make some extra cash on the side. Who knew I’d screw up on day one? When the director collected phones, my manager handed over the one on the table without thinking. When I realized the phone in my pocket was my personal one, I froze. Because that phone—the one with Julian’s contact info—had a wallpaper of his naked side profile. One night, Julian got a business call and answered it standing by the bed, not bothering to put on a robe. He argued in fluent English, waking me up. I was grumpy, so I took dozens of photos of his waist. The camera panned up, and Julian’s phoenix eyes stared at me, half-smiling. He allowed me to sneak photos. He even let me sit on his lap while he was on the call, making me hold the phone to test the image stabilization. Afterward, he gripped my ankle and whispered, “Who are you going to show off to? Hmm?” “Vivian, canaries should stay in their cages. Don’t cross the line, understand?” I cried and begged for mercy. Since then, I only dared to keep the photos for myself. I never thought there would be a day when these photos faced the threat of public exposure…

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After five years of marriage, Tristan and I went from being the perfect couple to bitter enemies. The year we wanted each other dead, he choked me, cursing me for being barren as karma for my “evil deeds.” I smashed a teapot over his head, screaming that he deserved to bury the woman he loved. He locked me in the house; I strangled him with his own vows. We were locked in a death spiral. Until a stray arrow flew straight for my heart. Without hesitation, he blocked it for me, smiling as he died. “Now, I don’t owe you anything.” But idiots like him don’t know how to block arrows properly. The arrow went through him and killed me too. Two for the price of one. When I opened my eyes, I was sixteen again, vibrant and full of life. This time, he went North to find his true love, and I went South to protect my family. We were supposed to be strangers. But Tristan… he regretted it. 1 “Miss Sarah, bad news. Tristan is kneeling in the front hall. He’s begging… begging to break off the engagement. Your father wants to see you.” Looking in the bronze mirror, my sixteen-year-old face was smooth, radiant, and untouched by the years of bitterness and gray hairs from my past life in that gilded cage. It’s true. I’ve been reborn. “Fine! I agree to break the engagement!” Tristan whipped his head around, disbelief written all over his face. “Really?” “Really!” Seventeen-year-old Tristan was dashing and proud. Even kneeling, his back was straight, his confidence unshaken. “So from now on, we go our separate ways? Sarah Bennett and Tristan Cole have nothing to do with each other?” The gentle breeze blew pear blossoms like rain, highlighting the determination on his face. “Agreed!” I answered so quickly that Tristan was left speechless. In our past life, resentment and unwillingness kept us rotting together for a decade. In this life, he let go, and I was set free. Everything ended on this flower-strewn afternoon. My father was furious, smashing a blue porcelain cup. “You’re foolish! The wedding is imminent. How can you let him break it off? Think of your reputation! Your future!” My brother kicked the door open, blood on his lip, eyes blazing. “Bullying my sister? Does he think the Bennetts are pushovers?” “I chased him for three miles and beat him bloody.” “Sarah, just say the word. Even if he runs to Chicago, I’ll drag him back to the altar!” So, Tristan was in a rush to break the engagement to go find his true love in Chicago. She was the love of his life, and the arsonist of my marriage. 2 In my previous life, Tristan and I were married for thirteen years, but we spent eight of them as enemies. We went from lovers to enemies because of one woman: Emma. Tristan saved her from bandits in Chicago and brought her home. There were many ways to repay a debt, but Tristan insisted on making her his concubine. She went through the standard procedures—morning greetings, serving tea to the main wife. None of it was malicious, but she felt I was humiliating her. “You’ll regret this!” she screamed before running away. When we found her, she was a bloated corpse in the moat. Tristan went hysterical, accusing me of driving his savior to suicide. I was full of grievances, accusing him of being blinded by love and manipulated by petty tricks. That night, we had our worst fight. He accidentally pushed me down the stairs. My three-month-old baby turned into a pool of blood, dissolving our childhood friendship and three years of marriage. It also took away my ability to ever be a mother again. My father forced him to swear an oath: even if I remained childless, he could never take another woman without my permission. Tristan kept his word. He brought no one into the house. Instead, he kept a mistress in the city, rarely coming home. I wouldn’t be outdone. I kept a gigolo in the North District, drinking and singing my days away. Until his mistress got pregnant and started provoking me. Her carriage charged at me on the street, trampling the only thing I loved—my dog—to death. Before I could slap her, Tristan caught my hand. He shielded her, eyes red. “Hit me if you have to. I bought her the carriage.” “It’s just a dog. I’ll buy you ten more.” The woman, who looked exactly like Emma, hugged his arm and wept. “I didn’t mean to. If Sister hates me so much, I’ll pay with my life.” So I granted her wish. 3 I slapped Tristan twice, bloodying his face. While the woman ran upstairs to the tea room, I drew a sword and pointed it at her. She was so scared she fell down the stairs. One corpse, two lives. That night, Tristan stormed into my courtyard like a madman and choked me. “She’s dead, the baby is dead. Are you happy now?” Suffocating, I felt like a dying fish. But seeing his pain gave me a twisted pleasure. “It was just a mistress I bought for five hundred silver. I’ll pay you two thousand.” Tristan’s hands trembled. He spat venomous words. “You did it on purpose? You’re evil. No wonder you’re barren. It’s your karma.” My resolve shattered. Hatred burned inside me. I grabbed a pot of hot tea and smashed it over his head. “You deserved it too! Always burying the women you love.” The people closest to you know where to stab to hurt the most. He stumbled, clutching his bleeding head, roaring in disbelief. “You want me dead over a gigolo?” “Didn’t you want me dead over a dancer?” “You loved him? You slept with him?” he asked, incredulous. I laughed, gasping for air. “Your mistress was pregnant. Why should I stay chaste for you?” Shock cracked his expression. He staggered away, locking the courtyard gates, intending to imprison me until I died. We fought until the capital fell into chaos. A stray arrow flew toward me. Tristan blocked it, smiling as he died. “Now, I don’t owe you anything.” But the idiot didn’t know how to block an arrow properly. It went through him and killed me too. I died behind him and woke up today. The rain beat against the banana leaves. I arranged flowers and told my story calmly, as if it were someone else’s. But every word was thunder to my father and brother. My father turned pale, speechless. My brother crushed a teacup, eyes red. “I treated him like a brother! How dare he… how dare he do this to you!” “Since he treated you like this, why didn’t I kill him?” My nose stung. Tears fell as I looked at them. “Because Father and Brother… were already gone!” 4 Thunder tore through the peaceful April sky. My mother died in childbirth with me and my twin brother. My father raised us alone, struggling every step of the way. He finally rose to power, becoming the tutor to the Princes. But party politics dragged him down. He was framed by his favorite student, the Third Prince. A forged letter condemned my father and the Fifth Prince for treason. The Emperor washed the capital with blood. The rain at the execution ground was heavy, washing away my father and brother in the blink of an eye. For the rest of my life, I lived in that cold rain, never standing straight again. The capital’s wealth is blinding, but in this life, I just want my family to live. “The hydrangeas in Charleston are blooming. Father, shall we go home?” My father aged instantly, wrinkles carving into his face. He couldn’t look away from me. “If I were gone, my Sarah would suffer so much.” Ambition and legacy meant nothing compared to flesh and blood. My father loved me more than his career. He burned the stack of forged letters from the Third Prince. The dream ended. “I’m old. It’s time to retire. Why not accompany Sarah to enjoy the mountains and rivers?” My brother smiled, pretending to be relaxed. “Charleston is nice. And Cousin Luke is even better.”

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