Category: English

1 The dealer eyed me skeptically. Ma’am, this car’s pristine, priced well below market. Why the rush? I rested my fingers on the doorframe, voice flat. Because of a preset seat memory. Yesterday, burning with fever, I sank into the passenger seat, aching to recline. But Max’s hand clamped my wrist. Don’t touch that. That slot’s for Sienna. Mess it up and her back flares for days. He reset the memory, watched the seat glide back, then softened his tone. Sienna’s back is bad. She’s your best friend, Stephanie. Show some empathy. Staring at his profile, I felt a wave of absurdity. Six years together, six years riding shotgun, and he’d never saved a setting for me. Yet he’d programmed one for my best friend. I said nothing, climbed into the back. In the mirror, he mistook my silence for a tantrum, sighed, offered no apology. Leaning against the cold glass, my phone lit up. Notification: Engagement venue reservation canceled. This ride with Max was over. … The car pulled up to our building. The rain was still pouring. Max held the umbrella as he escorted me to the lobby. I leaned against the tiled wall, trying to catch my breath, when he suddenly stopped. “Go on up. I need to go back to the car for a second.” I turned around and watched him run straight back into the downpour. He opened the passenger door, pressed the memory button twice, and even shook the backrest to test the angle. He bent down to measure the legroom with his hands, ensuring it was absolutely flawless before shutting the door. Half his shoulder was soaked, but he didn’t seem to notice. Standing in the chilly draft of the lobby, my heart went cold. It wasn’t that he lacked a sense of detail. He just never used it on me. Upstairs, I collapsed onto the couch. My phone buzzed. Auto-draft successful: $580. It came directly from my checking account. I had paid seventy percent of the down payment on that car; he had only chipped in thirty. The loan was entirely in my name, tied to my credit. In the beginning, he promised to transfer his share every month. He even attached a sweet note to his first transfer: For our little road-tripper. Then, the payments dwindled to nothing. Occasionally he would send me fifty bucks when he remembered, but most of the time he just conveniently forgot. I never pressed him. I figured we were getting married anyway, so keeping score felt cheap. What a joke. I was the one keeping up the payments, while my best friend claimed the passenger seat as her exclusive throne. I opened the car’s connected app on my phone. The number one frequent destination was Sienna’s yoga studio. Second was her apartment. My office was a distant third. Looking at the trip logs from the past three months, almost every route involved a massive detour just to pick her up. Suddenly, his constant refrain over the last six months made sense: “It’s on the way.” On the way to drop Sienna off at class. On the way to take her home. On the way to drive her to physical therapy. Yet, when I worked late into the night and called him for a ride, his response was always the same: “Just grab an Uber, babe. I’ll pay you back for it.” Apparently, convenience was selective. For some people, a detour across the entire city was “on the way.” For others, a two-mile drive was too much gas to waste. Max walked into the living room carrying a glass of warm water and some pills. He pressed his palm to my forehead. “You’re still burning up. Take these and go to sleep.” I took the glass without a word. He sighed, sitting down beside me. “Are you seriously still mad about the seat? Sienna’s back is just starting to heal. She can’t handle a bumpy ride. You need to be more understanding.” I stared at the swirling water in my cup. “You’re overthinking it.” He blinked, clearly caught off guard by my flat tone. He reached out to wrap his arms around me, but I quietly pulled away. “Tell you what. Once you’re feeling better, I’ll take you diving in the Bahamas, okay?” In the past, I would have taken the peace offering and let it go. Tonight, the promise just tasted bitter. Right then, his phone buzzed. “Sienna” lit up the screen. He shot a quick, guilty glance at me. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped out onto the balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind him. But he didn’t close it all the way. His voice drifted through the gap, clear as day. “Don’t worry, I reset the seat. It’s at the exact same angle as last time.” “I’ll pick you up for therapy tomorrow morning sharp. I won’t let your back flare up again.” My grip tightened around the glass. I opened a used-car appraisal app, entered my license plate, and checked the estimated value. Then I looked up the remaining balance on the loan. If I paid it off early using the refund from our canceled honeymoon, it would cover it perfectly. I had spent six months planning that trip. It was supposed to be our honeymoon. But yesterday, he had casually brushed it aside. “Sienna can’t miss her therapy sessions. We can do the trip later.” I hadn’t argued. I just went online and canceled every flight and hotel booking. When Max came back inside, he tucked the throw blanket around my shoulders and told me to rest. I closed my eyes and muttered an agreement. The moment the bathroom door closed and the shower started running, I opened my eyes. I took a screenshot of the car’s trade-in value. Since the passenger seat was no longer mine, keeping the car was pointless. Just like keeping him. The next morning, I walked to the entryway to pick up a package. There, sitting prominently on the shoe rack, was a pair of plush bunny slippers. My own sneakers had been shoved into the dark, dusty corner. Max emerged from the kitchen. Seeing me stare at the shoe rack, he offered a sheepish explanation. “Sienna stopped by yesterday morning to wait for me before work. Her back hurts if she stands too long. Since she’s your best friend, I figured I’d keep a pair here for her. Don’t overthink it.” I nodded. I didn’t ask when they had become close enough for her to lounge around our place before work. I didn’t ask why an outsider’s belongings were taking up my space. I turned to grab a drink from the fridge. Hanging on the inside door was a sticky note in his handwriting: Sienna can’t have cold drinks. Keep them room temp. My stash of cold brew had been relegated to the bottom drawer. In their place stood two rows of sweet peach teas, Sienna’s favorite. Max walked over and offered me a bottle. “Her stomach’s been acting up, so I grabbed these. You like sweet drinks too, right?” I let out a dry laugh and shut the fridge door. He had forgotten. I hated sweet drinks. Sienna was the one with the sweet tooth. Sensing my coldness, he tried to patch things up. “Come on, babe. Don’t be petty with someone who’s sick.” Before he could finish, his phone buzzed with a voice note from Sienna. He tapped it, and it blasted over speakerphone. “Max! The mountain trail passes are buy-one-get-one free today! Want to go hiking with me this weekend?” Max’s thumbs flew across his screen. “I’m taking Sienna to Stone Mountain this weekend,” he announced casually. “You’ll have to grab dinner on your own.” I looked up at him. “What about me?” He glanced at me as if I’d asked a stupid question. “If you want to come, just buy a ticket. Sienna’s sweet. She won’t mind sharing the trip.” My fingers tightened around my bottle. I didn’t say another word. For years, this had been our dynamic. Two-for-one boba deals? They split them. Department store coupons? They pooled their purchases to hit the threshold. Even a weekend getaway? His first thought was to secure a discount package with her. I was always the third wheel who had to pay full price alone. I used to make excuses for him. Her back is bad, she needs the company. But in that moment, the illusion shattered. There was no innocent helping hand. They had simply drawn a circle around themselves and left me on the outside. To fully force myself to let go, I went with them. Sienna skipped over to the car, pulling the passenger door open. The moment she saw me sitting inside, her smile froze. “Stephanie! I didn’t know you were coming! If I’d known, I would’ve asked Max to grab another pass.” Max turned around from the driver’s seat. “Stephanie, hop in the back. Sienna’s back is sensitive, and she’s used to the front. Just accommodate her this once.” I looked at him, my eyes stinging. He remembered her back pain, but he entirely forgot that I got severely carsick. Sienna played the martyr, gently tugging at his sleeve. “Oh, don’t say that. I can sit in the back. It’s just that my spine acts up on long drives, and I’d hate to be a burden and make you drive me to physical therapy again.” At those words, Max threw open his door, marched to my side, and grabbed my wrist. His grip was rough as he pulled me out of the seat. I stumbled, and before I could steady myself, he shoved me into the back. He leaned in, his voice cold as ice. “Sienna’s condition is fragile. Be reasonable.” The door slammed shut. Rubbing my bruised wrist, a wave of nausea hit me. “Max, pull over.” My voice trembled, thick with bile. He caught my eye in the mirror and sneered. “It’s just the back seat, Stephanie. Do you have to make a scene out of everything? Can’t you just grow up?” Sienna immediately turned around, her face a mask of deep regret. “This is all my fault. Stephanie, if you’re really that uncomfortable, let’s swap. My back will be fine. I’ll just do an extra therapy session next week. I don’t want to cause trouble between you two.” She reached for her seatbelt, but Max quickly pressed her shoulder down. “Don’t move. You just started feeling better. What if you slip a disc again?” He glared back at me, his teeth clenched. “Stephanie, stop pushing her. You know what she’s going through. Can’t you just tolerate it for once?” “I can’t tolerate it! I’m carsick!” My vision was blurring, and a sour taste flooded my mouth. “Carsick?” he scoffed, completely dismissive. “Since when do you get carsick? You’re just trying to ruin the trip.” By the time we finally reached the mountain park entrance, I threw the door open and scrambled out. Clutching the trunk of a pine tree, I threw up. Max leaned against the hood, his brow furrowed in irritation. “Unbelievable. We try to have a nice day out, and you turn it into a disaster.” Sienna’s eyes welled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Stephanie. If I hadn’t suggested the passes, you wouldn’t have to suffer like this.” She winced, pressing a hand to her lower back as if struggling to stand. Max immediately wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to support her. He looked over at me, his expression softening slightly when he saw the tears of physical exhaustion on my face. “Alright, now that you’re done, let’s go.” He guided Sienna toward the trail entrance. The stone path was uneven and rocky. The two of them walked briskly ahead. Max kept his arm around her, never once looking back. I forced myself to keep up, but my foot caught on a jagged root. A sharp, white-hot pain shot up my leg. I gasped, collapsing onto the dirt. “Max!” I cried out. Max stopped, starting to turn around. But Sienna suddenly shrieked and threw herself into his arms. “Ah! A bug! Max, get it off me!” Max caught her tightly, his voice frantic. “Where? Did it bite you?” He glanced at the ground, spotting a harmless black ant. “It’s just a little ant, Sienna. You’re terrified of that?” Yet, he bent down and scooped her up in a bridal carry. Sienna gasped, playfully swatting his shoulder. “Stop laughing! It scared me! What if it was poisonous?” “Alright, alright, my bad.” He carried her forward, laughing and chatting, completely forgetting I existed. I sat in the dirt, the pain in my ankle throbbing. I remembered a time when a tiny scrape on my knee would throw him into a panic. Now, nothing I did could catch his eye. Thunder rumbled overhead, and a sudden downpour slammed into the forest. I dragged myself up, limping heavily through the storm. By the time I reached the cable car station, I was soaked to the bone. “Last ride! Only one cabin left, and it only fits two people!” the operator shouted over the wind. My heart sank. I grabbed Max’s wet sleeve, my voice hoarse. “Max, please. I can’t walk. Help me up.” Sienna shrank into his chest. “Max, the thunder is so loud… and my back is killing me. If we have to hike down in this storm, I think my spine will give out.” She looked at me, her eyes red. “Stephanie, I’m so sorry. I’m so useless. You and Max should go first. I’ll manage.” Max looked conflicted, then turned to me. “Stephanie, wait here for half an hour. Let me get Sienna down safely, and I’ll come right back up for you. She has a chronic injury. If she gets cold in this rain, it’ll ruin her health.” I stared at him, and a cold, empty laugh escaped my lips. “I sprained my ankle, Max. Are you blind? Why should I give up my spot to her and freeze in the rain?” “Why can’t you ever be the bigger person?” His face darkened. He tossed his jacket to me. “Wear this. I’ll be back before you know it.” As the cabin door locked with a heavy metallic click, it felt like a blunt knife twisting in my chest. The torrential rain quickly soaked through his discarded jacket. Standing on the deserted platform, I watched the cable car vanish into the gray fog. I had no choice but to drag my injured foot down the mountain trail, step by agonizing step. Rainwater and cold sweat blinded my eyes. By the time I finally reached the bottom of the trail, my strength gave out entirely, and I collapsed onto the wet gravel. The next morning, Max finally noticed the silence in our chat history. Just as he grabbed his keys, his mother called. “Max! The venue just called to say the engagement party is canceled! What on earth is going on?” Before he could process her words, Sienna let out a sharp gasp from beside him. “Max! Look outside! The car is being towed!” He rushed downstairs to stop them, but the tow truck driver shrugged him off, shoving a clipboard in his face. “The vehicle was sold by Ms. Stephanie. All paperwork is signed and legal. Didn’t she tell you?”

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1 I dated Arthur for three years. At first, our friends thought he was just playing around, but eventually, they were wishing us a lifetime of happiness and a house full of kids. But I was the only one who knew the truth. Behind closed doors, almost every night, he’d whisper to me: We don’t do commitment, babe. Just love. Finally, the day came when his family demanded he marry for status. He gave me a twenty-million-dollar breakup fee. I took it without a second thought. I turned right around, dialed his little brother’s number, and said: “Ten million to buy you for the rest of your life. Is that enough?” When Arthur slid that black card across the table, his face was as unreadable as ever. I searched his features, desperate to find a single trace of guilt or reluctance. Unfortunately, I found nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. There was a shift, but it wasn’t what I wanted to see. For the first time in three years, those usually affectionate eyes of his held something else—a heavy, exhausted kind of relief. “Cassidy,” he murmured, deliberately softening his voice. “The family arranged a marriage. It’s the Sinclair girl. You know how it is. We need this alliance.” I didn’t say a word. I just picked up my cold brew and took a slow sip. It tasted bitter. “These past three years…” he trailed off, seemingly weighing his words carefully. “I haven’t treated you badly. From now on, whatever resources the company has, whatever your studio needs—just say the word.” I set the glass down. The sharp clink against the marble tabletop felt deafening in the dead quiet of the private room. “Twenty million?” I stared at the card sitting between us and let out a laugh. Arthur blinked, clearly thrown off. He had probably expected tears, screaming, the classic What did I mean to you? speech. He might have even braced himself to take a glass of iced coffee to the face. After all, when my company was just getting off the ground and my cash flow dried up, he wouldn’t even lend me half a million. His excuse? Money ruins romance. Now, suddenly, he was feeling generous. “Yeah,” he nodded, his tone slipping back into that arrogant, condescending charity he wore so well. “It’s enough for you to buy a nice place out of the city, keep running your studio, and live a good life.” Live a good life. How thoughtful. It was as if I’d been nothing more than a canary he kept in a gilded cage for three years. Now that the master was getting a new pet, he was handing me a severance package and telling me to fend for myself. I reached out and picked up the card. It was cold to the touch, its edges so sharp I felt like they could slice my fingers open. “So, you’re finally ready to do commitment, huh?” Just not with me. I looked up at him, my smile widening. Arthur’s face instantly froze. He opened his mouth to say something, then swallowed it back down. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, swiftly replaced by irritation. He definitely hadn’t anticipated this reaction. “Cassidy, don’t do this…” He reached out, trying to grab my hand. I pulled away smoothly, slipping the card into my purse with a crisp, fluid motion. “Alright. We’re square.” I fired the words out, refusing to give him a single syllable more. The color drained from Arthur’s face. He watched me stand up and grab the Hermès bag he’d bought me for my birthday last year. Back then, he’d said it suited me. Looking back, he probably just thought a girl from my background was only worthy of a nice bag. “You don’t have anything you want to ask me?” He couldn’t help himself. There was a faint trace of expectation in his voice, one he probably didn’t even realize was there. I stopped at the door and glanced back at him. The overhead lighting cast harsh shadows across his face. This man, who used to make my heart race so hard I couldn’t sleep, was sitting there looking like a decaying statue—beautiful on the outside, rotting from within. “Ask what?” I tilted my head. “Ask if you loved me? Ask if the last three years were just a game to you? Or maybe ask…” I paused, flashing a smile as gentle as a spring breeze. “Ask if, every night when you whispered ‘We don’t do commitment, just love,’ you were already planning for today?” Arthur went completely pale. I turned the handle, walked out, and never looked back. The hallway was endlessly long, lined with expensive Persian rugs that swallowed the sound of my footsteps. This private club was one of Arthur’s favorite haunts. In three years, I’d accompanied him here countless times. I’d watched him close deals, entertain friends, even met his parents here. And every single time, he introduced me as a friend. “Cassidy is a bit shy. She’s not really into formal settings.” That was always his excuse. Then, when no one was looking, he’d squeeze my palm and steal a comforting kiss in some dark corner. I bought it. Or rather, I forced myself to buy it. When the elevator reached the lobby and the doors slid open, I caught my reflection in the mirrored walls. I was wearing a white dress. It was Arthur’s favorite style. He used to tell me I looked like moonlight in white—pure, soft, clean. Thinking about it now, moonlight doesn’t demand commitment. It shines for a moment, then fades away. How fitting. Stepping out of the club, the April night air hit me, carrying a sharp chill. I stood by the curb and pulled a cigarette from my purse. Arthur didn’t know I smoked. He once said it wasn’t a good look for a girl, so I never lit up around him. At least I didn’t have to pretend anymore. The second the lighter sparked, I dialed a number that had been sitting in my phone for three years, completely untouched. It rang five times before someone picked up. A lazy, gravelly voice came through, thick with sleep. “Yeah?” I could hear the thumping bass of electronic music in the background. “Jaxon,” I said his name, my voice so steady it surprised even me. “Ten million to buy you for the rest of your life. Is that enough?” Dead silence on the other end. And then, I heard him laugh. It was a low, rumbling sound vibrating through the speaker, carrying a raw, magnetic edge. “Cassidy?” He didn’t even hesitate on my name. “My brother just dumped your ass, and you’re already coming to me? That desperate?” “Desperate.” I exhaled a lungful of smoke, watching the pale cloud dissolve into the night. “Extremely desperate. So, is it enough?” Jaxon laughed again. “Send me the pin,” he said. “We’ll talk in person.” Hanging up the phone, I stood by the street, waiting for my ride. The night breeze caught the hem of my dress, dragging my thoughts back to a night exactly like this, three years ago. It had been April too, the air biting with the same cool edge. I had just graduated college and landed a job as a strategist at an advertising firm. Arthur was our biggest client, launching a new product line for his family’s empire. The first time I saw him was during the pitch meeting. He sat at the head of the long table, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up carelessly to his elbows, flashing a watch worth more than my life. After my presentation, he gave a curt nod. Didn’t say a word. But after the meeting, he pulled me aside. “Miss,” he said, handing me his business card with a slick smile. “The proposal is solid, but it’s missing something.” “Like what?” I asked. “Ambition.” He replied smoothly. “It’s too safe. Reads exactly like something a junior associate would write. The market you’re trying to capture doesn’t want caution. It wants to be surprised.” I took the card, my fingers brushing against his. He was warm. “And what exactly does a surprise look like to you?” I stared right back at him. Arthur raised an eyebrow. He told me later that was the exact moment I caught his attention. Most girls were either a nervous wreck around him or tripping over themselves to flatter him. But me? I questioned him. “Let’s grab dinner tonight,” he had said. “I’ll show you.” That dinner lasted three hours. We talked about everything from marketing tactics to art philosophy, from corporate warfare to life goals. Arthur had a silver tongue, but he knew how to listen, too. When he looked at me, it felt like his eyes held the entire night sky. When he finally dropped me off outside my apartment building, he said, “Cassidy.” It was the first time he used my first name. “I really admire you.” “Thank you,” I kept it polite. He smiled, reaching out to tuck a windblown strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to be so formal,” he murmured. I didn’t answer. “I know what you’re thinking.” He stepped closer. He smelled like cedarwood mixed with the faint, intoxicating scent of red wine. “You think I’m some rich playboy looking for a one-night stand?” I did. “I’m not.” He looked at me, dead serious. “I just think it’s rare to find someone who actually gets me. We could try this. But without all the cliché baggage.” “Like what?” I asked. “Like commitment. Like marriage. Like the future.” He said, “That stuff is too heavy. Let’s just focus on right now. The feeling. Let’s just talk about… love.” When he said the word love, his voice was so soft it sounded like poetry. Like an idiot under a spell, I nodded. It wasn’t until much later that I realized every word he spoke that night was a meticulously crafted disclaimer. We don’t do commitment, just love. What a romantically packaged lie. It was so romantic it blinded me to the simple truth: A man who refuses to take on responsibility has absolutely no real heart to give. Twenty minutes later, a matte black sports car screeched to a halt in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing a face that looked strikingly similar to Arthur’s, but the vibe was entirely different. Arthur was polished, restrained, like a flawlessly cut diamond. Jaxon, on the other hand, was exactly what his reputation suggested—wild, reckless, like a jagged, unpolished stone. He had dyed his hair ash blonde. Three black studs lined the cartilage of his ear. The top two buttons of his black shirt were undone, showing off the faint edges of a tattoo tracing his collarbone. “Get in.” He jutted his chin toward the passenger seat. I pulled the door open and slid inside. The interior smelled like faint tobacco and some sharp, icy cologne. “Where to?” I asked. “Somewhere we can actually talk.” Jaxon hit the gas, and the car tore through the night like a sleek shadow. I buckled my seatbelt and turned to look at him. I’d seen this face a handful of times at family gatherings over the years. He was always sitting in the farthest corner, head buried in his phone, blending into the wallpaper. The illegitimate son. The brother Arthur looked down on the most. “The way you’re looking at me,” Jaxon broke the silence, his tone dripping with amusement, “is like you’re trying to appraise a piece of meat.” “I am.” I didn’t deny it. “I’m trying to see if you’re actually worth ten million.” He chuckled, taking a sharp turn down a narrow alleyway with one hand casually draped over the steering wheel. “How much did my saint of a brother give you? Twenty mil? Thirty?” “Twenty.” I told the truth. I figured there was no point in hiding anything from him now. “So you’re throwing ten at me,” he shot me a sideways glance, his eyes razor-sharp. “What about the other ten? Retirement fund?” “No,” I said flatly. “That ten million is your seed money.” The car slammed to a halt. We were parked outside a hidden speakeasy. The sign was tiny, just a neon Whisper flickering in the dark. Jaxon killed the engine and stared at me through the dim light. “Make it make sense.” His voice dropped, losing all its playful edge. “Cassidy, I’m not an idiot. You just got dumped by my brother, and five minutes later you’re calling me, offering ten million. What the hell is your game?” I met his gaze head-on. “I need you to do something for me.” “What?” “Simple. Blow up Arthur’s engagement.” Silence. A long, suffocating silence. Jaxon stared at me for a solid minute, and then he just started laughing. A loud, chest-deep laugh that had him leaning over the steering wheel, wiping a tear from his eye. “Fascinating,” he breathed, still chuckling. “Absolutely fascinating. Cassidy, I severely underestimated you.” He leaned in closer. The smell of tobacco suddenly felt suffocatingly intimate. “Do you have any idea how important this marriage is to the family?” He kept his voice low, his face inches from mine. “The Sinclairs are sitting on the zoning permits for the Eastside development. The family’s new commercial hub is dead in the water without that land. If he marries the girl, he gets the permits, and his spot as the heir is untouchable. But if the wedding goes up in flames…” “The old man cuts him loose,” I finished the thought. Jaxon raised an eyebrow. “You know a lot.” “Three years,” I said coldly. “Is plenty of time to learn where the bodies are buried.” Like the encrypted files on Arthur’s laptop. Like the audio recordings of him drunk, complaining that marrying the Sinclair girl was selling his soul. Like the trail of corporate resources he funneled under the table just to keep me happy. I kept the receipts for all of it. “How exactly do you want to play this?” Jaxon asked. “You have proof of Arthur’s shady dealings.” I locked eyes with him. “Three years ago, when he acquired the Eastside plot, he hired thugs to intimidate the locals to drive the price down. He buried it, but you kept the evidence. Am I right?” Jaxon’s eyes shifted. “How do you know that?” “Because you hate him,” I said softly. “I haven’t forgotten how your mother died.” The air in the car instantly turned to ice. Jaxon’s mother had been the old man’s mistress. She died under highly suspicious circumstances. The family spun it as an accident, but everyone in their circle knew Arthur’s mother—the legitimate matriarch—had her fingerprints all over it. “So,” I pushed forward, “you give me that evidence. I’ll make sure the old man sees it, and I’ll make you look like the hero. In exchange, you get me the proof that Arthur isn’t exactly a loyal fiancé, and you drop it right in the Sinclair girl’s lap.” “That spoiled princess hates being lied to more than anything.” Jaxon leaned back against his seat, his fingers absentmindedly drumming a rhythm on the steering wheel. “How long have you been planning this?” he asked. “Since the first time he told me we weren’t doing commitment.” He smirked, his eyes narrowing like a fox sizing up its prey. “Deal.” He held out his hand. “But ten million isn’t going to cut it.” “What do you want?” “I want Arthur’s seat at the table,” he said. “When the dust settles, the VP spot belongs to me.” I looked at his outstretched hand, but I didn’t take it. “Fine,” I said. “But you have to prove you’re actually useful first.” “How?” “Three days from now. The family gala. The Sinclairs will be there.” I pulled a small recording pen from my bag and hit play. Arthur’s voice floated through the car, slurred and drunk: “Marriage? I’m practically selling myself. That Sinclair bitch is a nightmare. If it wasn’t for her family’s land…” I clicked it off. Jaxon’s eyes lit up. “You want me to accidentally play this at the gala?” he asked. “No,” I slipped the pen back into my bag. “That’s way too obvious. I need you to orchestrate a moment. Make sure his precious fiancée overhears it purely by chance.” “And then?” “And then,” I smiled, “we get to see exactly how much of a nightmare the Sinclair girl really is.” After parting ways with Jaxon, I went back to my apartment. It was a place Arthur had bought—a sprawling, two-thousand-square-foot penthouse right in the heart of the city. He’d said, “Cassidy, this is close to my office. It’ll make it easier for me to come see you.” Easier for him to come see me. It was never our home. It was just a convenient pit stop. I unlocked the door, and the motion-sensor lights flickered on, casting a warm glow over the entryway. Sitting right by the door was a pair of plush pink slippers. Arthur bought them. He said girls should wear pink. I kicked off my heels and walked barefoot across the freezing marble floor. I opened the fridge. It was packed with imported groceries. Arthur had hired a private nutritionist to prep my meals, delivered daily, claiming it was for my “health.” So thoughtful. I grabbed a bottle of ice water and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, the city was alive—a sea of neon lights and endless traffic. From here, I had a perfect view of his family’s corporate headquarters. The lights in the top-floor office were still burning. He was probably still working. Or out to dinner with his fiancée. My mind drifted back to a night about a year ago. We’d been together for two years by then. Things felt stable. Comfortable. My friends had started teasing me. “He treats you so well. When’s he going to put a ring on it?” I always just laughed it off. That night, Arthur had a few drinks. He was resting his head on my shoulder, lazily twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. “Cassidy,” he mumbled. “Rick asked me again today when I’m going to marry you.” Rick was his best friend, the only guy who actually knew the truth about us. “What did you tell him?” I asked. “I told him,” he chuckled, his breath warm against my neck, “that marriage is a transaction, but love is art. And I refuse to let our art turn into something vulgar.” What a beautiful way to spin it. Art. He called us art. But art requires an audience. It requires a gallery. It requires validation. Our art was locked in the dark, never allowed to see the light of day. “So you’re never going to marry me, are you?” I whispered. Arthur went quiet for a long time. Then he said, “Cassidy, we don’t do commitment. We just do love. Isn’t that better?” “I love you,” he kissed my forehead. “That’s enough.” Enough. Back then, I actually managed to convince myself that it was fine. Looking back now, it was pathetic. How much love can a man really give you when he won’t even give you the dignity of a title? I walked into the study and pulled open the safe hidden behind the bookshelf. There were no diamonds inside. No stacks of cash. Just a few very specific items: A flash drive containing a complete backup of every encrypted file on Arthur’s laptop. Including that little backdoor deal he made with a rival firm, trading his family’s resources for leverage on a side project. A voice recorder filled with every drunken confession he’d made since our first month together. Audio of him trashing his family, mocking the arranged marriage, bragging about his cutthroat tactics. A leather notebook detailing every single corporate expense he’d authorized for me over the last three years. Dates, amounts, purposes, the names of the fixers. And a stack of photos. The one right on top was taken three months ago, the day Arthur’s mother paid me a visit. He was out of town, and she practically kicked my front door down. She was dripping in bespoke tailoring and designer leather, radiating the terrifying authority of a matriarch who owned the world. “Miss.” She sat on my sofa, completely ignoring the tea I offered her. “I’ll get straight to the point. My son is getting married. To the Sinclair girl.” I stood in front of her, keeping my mouth shut. “I know what the two of you have been doing.” She looked at me like I was a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “I don’t care if young men want to play around. But there are lines that cannot be crossed.” “He is the heir to this family. His marriage dictates our entire future. You,” she paused, letting the silence hang, “are entirely inadequate.” I didn’t blink. “I heard you’re running a little startup?” She pulled a checkbook from her designer bag, scribbled on it, and slid it across the coffee table. “Five million. That should be plenty for your little business. Leave him alone. Stop dragging him down.” I stared at the check, and I laughed. “Ma’am,” I started, keeping my voice perfectly level. “How much do you think your son is actually worth?” The color drained from her face. “Excuse me?” “I mean,” I leaned over, picked up the check, and slowly ripped it in half right in front of her eyes. “To me? Arthur isn’t worth this much.” She shot up from the sofa. “You—!” “Also,” I tossed the torn pieces into the garbage can. “Do me a favor. Tell him that if he wants to break up, he needs to come do it himself. Sending his mommy to do his dirty work is just pathetic.” She was shaking with rage. She snatched her bag and marched toward the door. Before leaving, she turned back and glared at me. “You’re going to regret this, you little bitch!” “I already do,” I smiled sweetly. “I regret not realizing sooner that everyone in your family is cut from the exact same garbage cloth.” I had the housekeeper secretly snap a picture of that exact moment. Her furious, purple face contrasted beautifully with my calm, collected smile. It was a masterpiece of irony. I placed the photo back into the safe and locked it. My phone buzzed. A text from Jaxon: Tomorrow. 8 PM. The family gala. She’s wearing a sapphire gown and an emerald necklace. The move happens by the garden fountain. I replied: Got it. Another text popped up: Are you seriously going through with this? You guys had three years. That’s got to mean something. I stared at the screen. I typed out a response, deleted it, typed another, and finally just sent: He threw it away first.

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1 Valentine’s Day Eve, I asked my boss—and fiancé—Simon for PTO to get our marriage license. He rejected it before the whole team and approved his new assistant Daisy’s lengthy vacation instead. She booked St. Barts ages ago, he said, tossing my form aside. Cover her shifts. I’ll be there on business anyway, keep an eye on her. The license? Push it back. A few days won’t kill you. The office went silent. Daisy looped her arm through his, cooing her thanks. When we return, I’ll bring you duty-free souvenirs. Watching them play the perfect couple, I didn’t swallow my pride this time. Simon didn’t know our wedding date was a hard deadline. If I wasn’t married by Memorial Day, I’d lose my bet with Grandfather and face his arranged marriage roulette. I unclipped my badge, dropped it in the trash, and signed a resignation form in one stroke. Then I called Manhattan’s wealthiest patriarch. Grandpa? I yield. I’ll take that arranged marriage. … “Fine,” I said out loud, hanging up the phone. “I won’t take the time off. I quit.” The moment those words left my mouth, the breathing in the office seemed to stop entirely. Simon’s expression froze for a fraction of a second before he let out a scoff. “Audrey, what kind of tantrum is this?” “Are you trying to use your job to blackmail me into marrying you right this second? Can you please act like an adult?” He casually snatched the resignation form off my desk and tossed it into the trash without a second glance. “Daisy finally has a chance to go out and relax. As her senior, what is so wrong with taking on a little extra work to help her out?” Daisy immediately forced tears into her eyes, shrinking timidly behind his broad shoulders. “Are you really mad at me, Audrey? Maybe I should just cancel my flight. I don’t want to ruin your relationship over a silly trip.” “You are not canceling anything,” Simon snapped, pulling her securely behind him. “I already booked the flights and the resort.” He glared at me with absolute frost in his eyes. “I’ve spoiled you too much. That is why you have zero concept of the bigger picture.” I just stood there and looked at him in total silence. Eight years. I had stood by his side from the moment he had absolutely nothing, carrying him through the darkest days of his startup. I pitched to investors, wrote business proposals, and dragged in clients. During our hardest month, I survived on three hours of sleep a night for two straight weeks. And now, he was pouring all his affection and privilege onto another woman. I gave a slow nod, pulled a fresh resignation form from my drawer, signed it, and placed it on his desk. “This isn’t a threat. I am actually done.” Simon’s face darkened instantly. My calm demeanor seemed to infuriate him. He snatched the massive project proposal I had just finished off my desk and shoved it right into Daisy’s arms. “Fine. Since you want to throw a fit, Daisy will be taking over this project from now on.” Daisy feigned panic. “Mr. CEO, I really shouldn’t! Audrey pulled all-nighters to write this.” “Take it,” Simon commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I run this company. If I say you are ready, you are ready.” He shot a venomous look in my direction. “If certain people don’t want to work, their resources will naturally go to someone who actually brings value to this firm.” The office was dead silent. Even Sarah, the HR manager who never made waves, couldn’t sit still anymore. She stood up abruptly. “Simon, that isn’t fair. Audrey built this project from the ground up. Daisy has only been here for three days.” “Sarah.” Simon cut her off with a lethal glare. “Are you questioning my executive decisions?” “This company is preparing to go public. I need people who are hungry and ready to fight, not someone whose brain is entirely consumed by wedding bells and marriage certificates.” Sarah’s face went completely pale. I didn’t even look at him anymore. I pulled a cardboard box from under my desk and began packing my personal belongings one by one. Eight years of my prime, finally shoved into a single cardboard box. It was so light it was almost laughable. I turned and walked toward the exit. As I brushed past him, Simon suddenly reached out and clamped his hand around my wrist. His grip wasn’t tight, but it carried a faint, frantic energy that even he didn’t seem to realize. “Audrey.” “If you want to throw a tantrum, I can give you the time.” He stared down at me, still using that arrogant, patronizing tone. “One week.” “When I get back from St. Barts, you will swallow your attitude and come back to work like a professional.” He paused, then added a final sentence like he was granting me a royal pardon. “When that happens, I will consider taking you to City Hall for that license.” I looked down at his hand gripping my wrist and suddenly let out a soft laugh. “Simon.” “You have lost the right to marry me.” I pulled my arm free and turned to leave. Sarah grabbed my sleeve, her eyes red. “Audrey, are you really just walking away? Aren’t you just letting them win?” Before I could comfort her, a sickeningly sweet voice floated over from behind. “Sarah, what do you mean letting us win?” I glanced back. Daisy was strutting over in her designer heels, unable to hide the smug triumph in her voice. “Audrey is so obsessed with locking down a husband that she completely abandoned the company’s future. Our CEO hates women who can’t see the big picture. If Audrey ruins her own winning hand, she has no one to blame but herself.” Sarah’s face turned thunderous. She rolled up her sleeves, ready to march over. “Who are you calling blind to the big picture?” I reached out and stopped her. “Let it go.” A second later, the doors to the private executive elevator chimed open. “Daisy, the car is waiting outside. Let’s go,” Simon called out. Then, he lifted his gaze and looked in my direction. His eyes lingered for a fraction of a second, as cold and detached as if he were looking at an irrelevant intern. No explanations. No begging me to stay. Not even a fake polite goodbye. Sarah cursed under her breath. “What an absolute piece of garbage.” I felt strangely at peace. It turns out that when a heart dies thoroughly enough, even the pain becomes a whisper. Right at that moment, the sky outside darkened violently. Following a low rumble of thunder, a torrential downpour smashed against the city windows without warning. The security guard had already pulled the luxury sedan up to the front steps. He ran over, holding a large black umbrella. Simon took the umbrella from him. His first instinct wasn’t to look back at me. Instead, he tilted his head toward Daisy. “Come on, don’t get wet.” The guard opened the car door for them. Daisy didn’t get into the back. Instead, she naturally pulled open the passenger door and slid into the front seat. Resting on that specific seat was a custom embroidered lumbar pillow. When Simon’s neck issues flared up last year, I had stayed up for three nights stitching it by hand. Now, Daisy stroked the fabric of the pillow. She deliberately rolled down the window and flashed me a crescent-eyed smile. “Audrey, this pillow is so soft. Since you already quit, you won’t mind if I keep it, right?” Simon slid into the driver’s seat, resting one hand casually on the steering wheel. Hearing her ask, he glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “It is just a pillow. Keep it if you like it.” With one careless sentence, he rendered eight years of my devotion completely worthless. The tinted window slowly rolled up, entirely cutting off my view. The next second, the sleek black sedan sliced through the puddles, speeding away from the corporate building without a hint of hesitation. The red taillights were quickly swallowed by the blinding rain. I stood perfectly still on the steps, watching until the very last drop of suffocating hope in my chest was washed away by the storm. Eight years really amounted to nothing. The rain was torrential, yet he couldn’t even be bothered to ask how I was getting home. By the time I gave the taxi driver the address to the apartment I had lived in for five years, my voice was so steady I barely recognized it myself. I pushed open the front door. Sitting in the entryway, right next to Simon’s expensive leather loafers, was a strange pair of women’s house slippers. They were pastel pink, adorned with a cheap faux pearl on the toe. I stared at those slippers for two seconds before a dry laugh escaped my throat. It turns out he had crossed the line long before today. I honestly didn’t have much to pack. Over the past five years, I had poured every single dollar of my savings into keeping his startup afloat. My own closet was filled with nothing but basic, out-of-season clothes I bought on clearance. As I opened my bedside drawer to grab my passport, my fingers brushed against a dust-covered jewelry box. Driven by some phantom impulse, I popped it open. Resting quietly on the velvet cushion was a plain silver band. Eight years ago, Simon bought it for twenty bucks at a local flea market. That night, he had dropped to one knee, his eyes shining with tears. “Audrey, I have absolutely nothing to my name right now. This is all I can give you.” “But I swear to God, when I make it big, I will buy you the biggest diamond in this entire city. I will make you the most envied bride in the world.” I believed him back then. I believed him so deeply that I cut ties with my family. I stood in front of my grandfather and declared that I would rather die than marry anyone else. Grandpa had just looked at me with cold, calculating eyes. “Fine. Eight years.” “If he does not marry you in eight years, you come back here, and you accept the arranged marriage I choose for you.” I was so utterly convinced I was going to win that bet. Now I realize the only true joke was me. I was just about to snap the jewelry box shut when the electronic deadbolt on the front door beeped open. Simon collapsed his wet umbrella and walked into the apartment, smelling of rain and expensive cologne. When he saw the open suitcase on the bedroom floor, his brows knitted together in deep annoyance. He marched over and slammed his hand down on the lid of my suitcase. “Audrey, are you ever going to stop?” “Throwing a tantrum at the office is one thing, but you’re giving me attitude in my own house?” I calmly brushed his hand away and folded my last two sweaters, placing them neatly inside. “I am not throwing a tantrum. I am moving out.” Simon looked at me like I had just told the funniest joke in the world. “Moving out? Where exactly do you think you can go?” He let out a heavy sigh and softened his tone slightly, playing the benevolent peacemaker. “Audrey, I know you are upset that I delayed the city hall appointment.” “But I already explained this to you. I am going to St. Barts to meet with some massive investors. Daisy is taking a vacation down there anyway, so it made perfect sense to travel together.” “She is young, she is pretty, and she has a silver tongue. She can drink the clients under the table and close the deals for me.” “You need to stop being so damn sensitive and acting insanely jealous over nothing.” “We are about to be a married couple. Can you please act like a supportive future wife?” Listening to his shameless justification, a wave of pure, bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. What gave him the right to trample my dignity into the dirt and then demand that I be understanding about it? “Simon.” “Do you honestly believe that no matter how horribly you treat me, I will always just forgive you?” He froze for a second, clearly taken aback by how blunt I was being. The next second, his phone screen lit up. He had tossed it onto the nightstand. The message preview flashed brightly in the dim room. [Mr. CEO, I’m at the airport! I really want to eat at that seafood place you took me to last time!] Sender: Daisy. The bedroom fell completely silent. Simon’s face shifted, and he reached out quickly to snatch the phone. I gave a hollow smile. Any lingering doubt I had was instantly eradicated by pure disgust. “Just a business trip?” “Just traveling together?” “Simon, you are too lazy to even come up with a decent lie.” A flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but his tone immediately hardened to cover it up. “Daisy is young and she does not have a filter. Are you seriously going to obsess over a stupid text message?” “I do not have the time to argue with you right now. We will talk when I get back from St. Barts.” He still wore that invincible, arrogant armor. But right at that moment, my own phone lit up. A new message popped onto my screen. [Miss Sinclair, the Patriarch sent me to pick you up. I will arrive at the apartment in one hour.] The sender contact was saved simply as: Benson. Simon caught a glimpse of the message out of the corner of his eye. His brow twitched in confusion. “The Patriarch? Pick you up?” I didn’t answer him. Instead, while maintaining dead eye contact, I slowly and deliberately slipped the cheap silver ring off my finger. I dropped it into the velvet box. “It is nothing.” “Just someone finally coming to take me back to where I truly belong.” Just as the words left my mouth, his phone buzzed again on the nightstand. This time, it was a voice memo from Daisy. Simon didn’t even try to hide it. He tapped play right in front of me. “Mr. CEO, are you done packing? I’m waiting for you in the VIP lounge!” The flirtatious, breathy tone was so thick it practically dripped out of the speakers. Yet Simon stared at me with total self-righteousness. “Did you hear that? That is perfectly normal coworker communication.” “Daisy is a bubbly person. Stop projecting your own filthy insecurities onto other people.” I didn’t say a single word. I just picked up the twenty-dollar silver ring and walked over to the open window. Simon seemed to sense a shift in the air. His face changed. “Audrey, what are you doing?” I stared out at the gray, rain-soaked skyline of the city and slowly uncurled my fingers. The silver ring, heavy with eight years of my youth and his lies, plummeted straight down into the muddy alleyway below. It didn’t even make a sound. Like our eight years together, it rotted away completely. I turned around, looked Simon dead in the eyes, and spoke with absolute clarity. “Simon, I am done waiting for you.” He visibly flinched. A brief flash of panic crossed his features. But almost instantly, that panic was buried under his usual mountain of arrogance. “This again?” “Audrey, there really is no limit to the stunts you will pull just to make me bow my head.” In his eyes, dropping the ring out the window was just another tactic to play hard to get. He was absolutely certain that I could never survive without him, that I could never bear to actually leave. But this time, I didn’t even bother giving him an explanation. I zipped my suitcase shut, pulled up the handle, and walked straight past him. As our shoulders brushed, I didn’t spare him a single glance. Sometimes, walking away isn’t a tantrum. It’s a lifetime. The next morning, the storm cleared, leaving a brilliant blue sky. I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of my luxury hotel suite, watching the endless stream of traffic below, and let out a long, heavy exhale. The doorbell rang precisely on time. I opened the door to find two rows of men in tailored black suits bowing deeply in unison. Standing at the front was Benson, my grandfather’s most trusted butler. “Miss Sinclair, your private jet is prepped and ready for takeoff. We can return to New York whenever you are ready.” I nodded, grabbed my designer handbag, and followed them without a word. The motorcade glided smoothly toward the international airport. Before we even reached the private aviation terminal, I could see the massive, chaotic crowds flooding the front of the commercial departure halls. Because of last night’s severe thunderstorms, all flights to St. Barts were heavily delayed, leaving thousands of furious passengers stranded. Amidst the sea of people, I instantly spotted the two most recognizable figures. Simon and Daisy. Right at that moment, Daisy’s gaze wandered past the massive glass walls of the terminal and locked onto my side of the tarmac. Her eyes widened in unfiltered envy. She tugged aggressively on Simon’s expensive jacket sleeve, whispering loudly. “Wow, Simon, look at that!” “That is what real old money looks like.” Simon frowned in irritation and looked up. His eyes met mine.

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1 My little sister playing with fireworks permanently deafened my right ear. During the final auditions for the conservatory, I couldn’t hear the piano accompaniment. My performance was flagged as a fail. I missed out on the university I had spent three years bleeding for, all because of one missing piece of paper. After the accident, Mom and Dad shipped my sister off to Europe. My older brother blocked her on every social media platform. Even Silas, the boy I grew up with, swore he would never look at her again. For years, I genuinely believed they were hurting for me. Until seven years later, when my sister finally graduated and flew back stateside. Mom tossed a set of car keys onto my lap. “Go pick up your sister.” I stared at the glowing notification on my phone screen. It was the schedule for my senior thesis defense. “I can’t,” I said. “My defense is this afternoon.” The living room went dead silent. Mom’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. “It has been seven years!” she snapped, her voice trembling. “She spent seven years sick in a foreign country, blowing out birthday candles by herself. She didn’t even dare come back for your grandmother’s funeral. Why won’t you just let her off the hook?” Dad set his coffee mug down hard on the coaster, his face dark. “She made a mistake back then, yes. But didn’t you end up going to college anyway? You’re about to graduate. So you lost hearing in one ear. You still have your thesis, your whole future ahead of you. What about her? She was locked out of her own home for seven years.” My brother stood in the doorway, staring at me with ice in his eyes. “You just missed out on one fancy music school. What she lost was her entire family.” Even Silas, who had been sitting in heavy silence, finally spoke up. “And me. For seven years, I didn’t see her, didn’t comfort her, didn’t spend a single holiday with her. I already promised to propose to you after graduation. Why can’t you just leave a door open for her to come home? Do you really need her to die out there alone before you’re satisfied?” My world had been missing half its sound for a long time. But in that exact moment, the remaining half went completely, terrifyingly quiet. Later that day, I logged into the university portal and changed my post-grad job placement to a city on the opposite coast. Three thousand miles away. From now on, the golden child they prayed for, and the guilt they faked for seven years, had absolutely nothing to do with me. 2 The morning Lily flew back, Mom knocked on my bedroom door at the crack of dawn and dropped a brass key on my desk. “Violet, clear out the south-facing room on the second floor. Your sister always loved the natural light.” I looked up at her. That room used to be my music studio. Seven years ago, after the fireworks destroyed my right ear, the grand piano, the ballet barre, and the sheet music stands were all shrouded in heavy dust covers. Mom had held me tight back then, crying into my hair. She told me not to look at it, that looking at it would only break my heart. I believed her. I thought they locked that room to protect me from the trauma. But today, the housekeeper yanked off the covers, and sunlight spilled over the polished mahogany of the piano lid. Mom personally directed the maids to wipe away every speck of dust. She swapped the decor for Lily’s favorite white roses, plugged in a lily-of-the-valley diffuser, and even changed the drapes to a soft, pastel pink. I stood in the doorway, looking at the gleaming keys, and suddenly felt a hysterical urge to laugh. It wasn’t that the piano couldn’t be touched. It just couldn’t be touched by me. Downstairs, Dad was stringing up a massive banner in the foyer. Welcome Home, Lily in glittering gold letters. My brother, Daran, had put on a sharp tailored suit hours ago, insisting he had to greet her right at the arrivals gate. Silas had originally promised to sit in the front row for my thesis defense. But right before he walked out the door, my phone buzzed. [Lily just landed. She’s really overwhelmed. I’m riding to the airport with your parents to calm her down.] I stared at the text bubble for a long time. Finally, I typed back a single letter. [K.] I didn’t argue. I didn’t ask questions. Because I knew fighting for it wouldn’t change a damn thing. I went back to my room to print my thesis materials. The printer was linked to the family’s shared cloud drive. When I opened the interface, a folder popped up on the screen. It was named: Lily – Europe Archives. I meant to close it. But my cursor hovered over the icon for a long time before I double-clicked. Inside was not the tragic, isolated exile Mom had painted. There was no evidence of a girl suffering alone for seven years. Instead, it was an avalanche of photos and videos. Massive birthday bashes. Graduation trips to Santorini. Skiing in the Swiss Alps. Ticket stubs for Broadway shows in London. A bedroom wall overflowing with designer gifts. Every single year was vibrant, loud, and incredibly crowded. Mom mailed her hand-knit scarves every winter. Dad wrote lengthy, emotional birthday cards. Daran’s passport stamps perfectly matched the dates of her winter and summer breaks. I clicked on a video from her eighteenth birthday. On the screen, Daran was laughing as he adjusted a party hat on Lily’s head. Mom was crying through the FaceTime call, saying, “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. It’s not that we don’t want you. We just can’t bring you home quite yet.” Lily rubbed her reddened eyes. “Is Violet still mad at me?” Dad sighed heavily into the microphone. “She’s still young, she’s holding onto a grudge. Just give it time. Once she stops hurting so much, we’ll bring you back where you belong.” I sat frozen in my desk chair. The blood slowly drained from my fingertips and toes. So, for seven years, they hadn’t cut her off. They hadn’t coldly punished her for ruining my life. They were just waiting for me to stop bleeding. Waiting for me to look a little less pathetic, so they could drag her back into the sunlight. My mind drifted back to the night I was admitted to the hospital seven years ago. The specialist told them the nerve damage in my right ear was severe. He said someone needed to stay in the room to monitor me. But the only person sitting in the dark with me was a hired nurse. Mom said she had been crying all day, that she was simply too exhausted and needed her own bed. Dad said he had a crisis at the firm. Daran claimed he had a mandatory frat event and promised to drop by the next morning. Silas told me there was an emergency at his startup, kissed my forehead, and told me to be a good girl. That night, I lay alone on the stiff hospital mattress. My right ear felt like it was packed with concrete. The entire world was split cleanly in half. One side was a chaotic buzz. The other was the silence of a grave. I was in too much agony to sleep. I kept swiping my phone screen, waiting for a single text from any of them. Nothing. Now I knew why. That was the exact night they were all on a group video call, watching Lily blow out her birthday candles. At the very bottom of the folder was a group photo. It was taken backstage after Lily’s first piano recital in Paris. She was wearing a stunning white gown, cradling a massive bouquet of lilies. Silas stood right beside her, holding her wool coat over his arm. The caption read: Lily’s first time back on stage! Silas says she’s the bravest girl he knows. I stared at that sentence until my vision blurred. Seven years ago, Silas sat by my hospital bed, holding my hand so tight it hurt. He swore to me he would never see her again. He told me he would stay by my side and help me navigate a world with only half its sound. I believed him. I believed him because he was the only person who never treated me like I was broken. But he hadn’t cut her out. He just got better at hiding her from me. 3 During my thesis defense that afternoon, one of the professors asked a question from my blind side. It took me a full beat to process the muffled sound and turn my head. Someone in the back of the auditorium let out a soft, mocking laugh. I steadied my breathing and delivered a flawless answer. But my chest felt like it was trapped in a vise, squeezing the air out of my lungs. The second I walked out of the hall, my phone lit up with a notification from the family group chat. It was a picture. Mom, Dad, Daran, and Silas were all huddled around Lily. The background was a sea of fresh white roses. Lily was sitting on the bench of my piano, tears shining in her eyes. Mom had added a caption. Seven years. We finally brought our baby girl home. Looking at that photo, the final puzzle piece clicked into place. They never punished Lily for seven years. They just hid her away, and loved her in secret. Instead of going home, I hailed a cab to the hospital where I was treated seven years ago. I only went to request an official copy of my hearing impairment certificate for my new employer. But when the aging specialist recognized me, the very first thing he asked was, “Why didn’t you ever come back for the second phase of the nerve reconstruction?” I froze. “What reconstruction?” The doctor frowned deeply, clicking through his ancient desktop to pull up my file. Lines of text populated the screen. Right auditory nerve not fully necrotic. Surgery within a three-month window yields a 70% chance of full recovery. Surgical fee: $65,000. Paid in full. The payer was my father. The emergency contact listed was Silas. I stared at the yellowed receipt. My heart gave a violent, agonizing spasm. They were that close to saving me. But the very next page was a formal cancellation request. The date of cancellation was the exact day before Lily flew to Europe. The reasoning written on the form hit me like a physical blow. Family experiencing financial strain due to younger daughter’s overseas conservatory tuition and the purchase of a new grand piano. Surgery suspended indefinitely. The doctor let out a heavy sigh. “I pleaded with your mother back then. I told her the window for nerve repair closes fast. Once you miss it, the damage is permanent. But she kept crying, saying your sister’s mental health was fragile, that she had to be sent to Europe immediately for a change of scenery. She said they needed to buy her a custom piano so she could heal.” My fingers turned ice-cold as I gripped the photocopies. “Your mother was sobbing on the phone,” the doctor added softly. “She said, Violet is already deaf in one ear. But if Lily loses her courage to play the piano, her whole life is ruined.” A dry, hollow laugh scraped its way out of my throat. It wasn’t that my ear was beyond saving. It was that they personally pulled my name off the surgery schedule. It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford the sixty-five grand. It was that they decided my chance to hear the world again was worth less than Lily’s new piano. When I finally walked through the front door, Lily was sitting on the living room rug, tearing into wrapping paper. She was wearing a soft cream dress, her cheeks flushed with color. When she looked up, she put on that same timid, innocent expression she always used. “Violet. You’re home.” Mom had bought her a brand-new upright piano, calling it her official welcome-home gift. Dad chuckled warmly. “You haven’t touched a keyboard in this house for seven years. You can play whenever you want now, sweetheart.” Daran reached down and ruffled her hair. “You worked so hard picking it back up in Paris. You deserve to play in your own house.” Silas was standing by the piano, carefully adjusting the height of the leather bench so it was perfect for her. My memory flashed to him sitting on the edge of my hospital bed. Violet, from now on, I’ll be your right ear. Looking at him now, I realized the truth. He agreed with them. My chance to hear was just collateral damage in the mission to get Lily back on stage. I walked over and dropped the hospital photocopies right on top of the pristine piano keys. The papers were paper-thin, but the sound of them hitting the wood felt like a gunshot in the room. The laughter died instantly. Mom’s face paled. “Why were you digging around at the hospital?” I looked dead into her eyes. “So I could have been cured seven years ago. Is that right?” Lily’s eyes immediately swam with tears, and she jumped up. “Violet, if you think I stole your surgery money, I swear I’ll never touch a piano again!” Mom rushed forward and pulled Lily into a fierce hug. “It is not your fault! That was our decision as parents!” Dad’s face darkened with rage. He snapped his fingers at a maid to take the papers away. “Get this depressing garbage off Lily’s new piano.” I looked at the glossy black instrument and felt a wave of pure exhaustion. Seven years ago, I lost half my hearing. She lost her nerve to play. But they chose to save her nerve. And they chose to bury my life. 4 The welcome dinner was held in the formal dining room. Mom claimed Lily was too jet-lagged for a loud restaurant. But the massive oak table was groaning under the weight of Lily’s favorite dishes. Garlic butter shrimp, crab bisque, mango tart, lobster risotto, and a cold noodle salad generously topped with crushed peanuts. I was severely allergic to shellfish, mangoes, and peanuts. Seven years ago, the specialist explicitly warned them that severe allergic reactions would trigger massive vertigo and worsen my tinnitus. Yet Mom was entirely focused on peeling shrimp for Lily. Dad slid the only safe dish, a simple chicken broth, right in front of Lily. Daran reached over and took the plate of plain roasted vegetables away from my side of the table. “Lily just got off a long flight. Let her have the easy stuff first.” I was seated at the very end of the table, closest to the swinging kitchen doors. My bad ear was facing the room. My good ear was facing a blasting Bluetooth speaker. I didn’t even have a clean plate or silverware in front of me. Silas finally noticed. He opened his mouth to ask the maid for a setting, but Lily suddenly sniffled, her eyes going red. “Is Violet still punishing me?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Is that why she refuses to eat with us?” Silas’s hand froze in mid-air. Eventually, he just slid his own water glass toward me. “Just drink some water for now.” I stared at the condensation rolling down the glass. I didn’t touch it. Halfway through the meal, Lily pulled a battered cardboard box from under her chair and pushed it toward me like it was a sacred offering. “Violet, I know it’s late, but this is to make up for what I did.” Inside was a single, beat-up headphone. The paint was chipping, the wire casing was split open, and the jack was held together by yellowing scotch tape. Mom’s eyes immediately filled with proud tears. “It’s the thought that counts, sweetheart. That’s so sweet of you.” Dad nodded approvingly. “She just got back. She doesn’t have much money to her name. The fact that she thought of you is what matters.” Daran chimed in, “Who cares what it costs? She’s swallowing her pride to apologize.” Silas leaned in and muttered near my shoulder, “Just take it, Violet. Don’t humiliate her in front of everyone.” Before I could even form a response, my phone buzzed violently against the wood. It was an automated alert from my bank. The savings account I had been desperately building for a future ear specialist consultation had just been drained of nine hundred bucks. The merchant listed was the exact vintage audio store down the street. I slowly lifted my head and locked eyes with Lily. “You used my credit card to buy a piece of garbage from a thrift store, and you’re calling it an apology?” All the color drained from Lily’s face. The tears spilled over instantly. “Violet, I swear I didn’t know that was your card! I just wanted to make things right!” For the first time in seven years, my control snapped. “You blew out my eardrum. You stole my surgery fund. And now you can’t even afford your own fake apology without stealing my money?” The dining room plunged into a suffocating silence. Lily grabbed her chest, gasping for air like she was having a panic attack, tears streaming down her face. Dad stood up and slapped me hard across the face. The crack echoed off the high ceilings. “Violet!” he roared. “Do you absolutely have to drive her to suicide on her first day back?” My head snapped to the side. A piercing, high-pitched whine exploded in my deaf ear, drowning out the room. Mom was already wrapping her arms around a sobbing Lily, crying right along with her. Daran stepped in front of Lily like a human shield, glaring at me with absolute disgust. Silas frowned deeply. “Violet, back off. Stop pushing her.” Lily, still weeping, reached over and twisted the dial on a vintage music box she had placed on the table. “I’ll play a song Violet used to love when we were kids,” she choked out. “Just please, everyone stop fighting.” The next second, the tinkling mechanical notes filled the room. It wasn’t a childhood lullaby. It was the exact piano accompaniment from my conservatory audition seven years ago. The piece I had practiced until my fingers bled for three years. The piece I had never been able to listen to again. As the sharp, metallic high notes hit the air, my good ear exploded in a symphony of horrific static. My vision went completely black. My balance vanished. I collapsed backward, crashing violently into the glass liquor cabinet. Glass shattered everywhere. Shards sliced deep into my palms. Blood immediately began trickling down the side of my neck, right behind my bad ear. Silas instinctively took a step toward me. But Lily let out a bloodcurdling scream. “My hand! It hurts so much!” Silas froze mid-step. He turned his back on me and rushed to pull Lily into his chest. I sat in a pile of jagged glass. The ringing in my head was so violent I thought my skull was going to crack open. Warm blood dripped down my wrists and soaked the collar of my shirt. Lily had a single, shallow scratch on the back of her hand. But she was wailing, screaming that her fingers were going numb and that she would never be able to play the piano again. When the family’s private doctor rushed through the door, he took one look at the blood pooling around my ear and his face lost all color. “She needs to go to the ER immediately,” he barked. “She’s bleeding near the old trauma site. We can’t wait.” He glanced over at Lily. “The younger Miss has a superficial laceration. It needs cleaning, but it’s not critical. Who’s going in the car first?” Mom didn’t even hesitate for a fraction of a second. “Take Lily first. She just got home. She cannot handle any more trauma today.” Dad’s voice was like iron. “Violet’s issue is chronic. If Lily’s hand scars, it ruins her career.” Daran kept Lily tucked safely behind him. “Violet threw this massive tantrum. It’s time she learned to step back.” I looked up at them through the blur of pain and realized how terrifyingly familiar this was. Seven years ago, when the fireworks went off, I was screaming on the grass, clutching my bleeding head. Lily was crying that she didn’t mean it. And they all crowded around her, telling me to stop screaming so I wouldn’t scare my sister. Silas finally noticed the blood soaking into my shirt. He went pale. He started to take a step toward me, but Lily grabbed fistfuls of his jacket sleeve. “Silas, please, it hurts so bad.” Silas stopped in his tracks. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Finally, he looked at the doctor. “We’re taking Lily first.” He turned back to look at me, surrounded by broken glass.

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After I cheated, I found my soulmate. She never checked my phone, never asked about my finances, and never demanded to know where I was. She was the splash of color my grey, suffocating life desperately needed. On my wife’s side, I kept up appearances. I came home on time, played the doting husband, and kept the machinery of our marriage running smoothly. Until the day I pushed open the door to my secret sanctuary. And found my wife waiting inside. 1 The sharp spark of my lighter caught a dark, rusty smear on the bedsheets. I looked down at the girl sleeping soundly beside me. Slowly, I leaned back against the headboard and inhaled a deep drag of nicotine. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen illuminating the dark room. It was a text from my wife, Fiona: Hey babe, I slipped some hangover pills into your briefcase. Don’t forget to take them. I stood up, walked out onto the balcony, and dialed her number. “Is Toby asleep?” I asked when she picked up. “He just went down,” Fiona replied, her voice soft but tired. “What time does your flight land tomorrow? I can come pick you up from the airport.” I rubbed my tired eyes. “I’ll text you the flight details in a bit. Go get some rest.” After hanging up, I stood on the balcony for a long time, letting the freezing night wind numb my face. When I returned to the bedroom, Gemma was sitting up, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. “Are you leaving?” she whispered. I nodded and began pulling on my clothes. My movements were still clumsy and slow from the alcohol. She slipped out of bed, padded over on bare feet, and gently straightened my collar. “I don’t want to get in the way of your family,” she said, looking up at me with wide, earnest eyes. “I won’t ever make things hard for you. Just a little of your time, every now and then, is more than enough to keep me happy.” I ran a hand over her soft hair, said nothing, and left. Later, lying in my own king-sized bed at home, I closed my eyes, but my mind was a chaotic blur of the intoxicating hours I had just spent with her. It had been years since I felt that kind of electric, heart-stopping thrill. I couldn’t even remember how I had crossed that final line. I only remembered the way her eyelashes glistened with tears when she was beneath me. The next morning, after my run, I found Gemma standing right outside my office door. She was wearing a simple white sundress, her face completely bare of makeup, with tiny beads of sweat glistening on the tip of her nose. “Hey, Marcus,” she murmured. “I noticed you didn’t come down for the hotel breakfast, so I brought you some fresh pastries and hot coffee.” I stared at her for two seconds. Then I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into my room. Honestly, for a man in my position, having a mistress is practically par for the course. As long as you know how to balance the scales, it never causes any real trouble. If anything, the thrill of this stolen happiness made me more patient with my family. I viewed it as a healthy tax on my guilt, a trade-off that actually made me a better husband. When our flight landed back home, Gemma slipped into the airport restroom, deliberately staying out of sight to avoid any awkward encounters. Fiona practically flew toward me at the arrivals gate, wrapping her arms tight around my waist and burying her face in the crook of my neck. I glanced over her shoulder. Through the crowded terminal, I saw Gemma standing in the shadows. Her eyes were red, but she gave me a brave, bittersweet wave. My heart twisted with a sudden, unexpected ache. At dinner that night, Fiona talked endlessly about her day, the company, and our son. My phone screen lit up repeatedly on the table, but there were no messages from Gemma. “Marcus?” I blinked and looked up. Fiona was staring at me, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I’ve called your name three times. What are you staring at?” “Just thinking about a project at the firm,” I lied, shoving a forkful of food into my mouth. “What were you saying?” “Toby has that soccer tournament in Europe coming up,” she said, her excitement returning. “It’s about ten days. Why don’t you take some PTO? We haven’t taken a family trip in forever.” “I can’t. The new project is in a critical phase right now. You guys go ahead without me.” Fiona’s smile faded into a disappointed nod. “Okay. Next time, then.” That night, when she crawled into bed and tried to spoon me, I instinctively shifted toward the edge of the mattress. “I’m exhausted, babe. Let’s just sleep.” Fiona’s arm froze against my waist. Slowly, awkwardly, she pulled it back. After all these years of marriage, intimacy with Fiona had become a chore, a repetitive script we both read from. It was entirely devoid of passion. But Gemma was different. She made everything feel dangerously alive again. I closed my eyes, and my mind was immediately flooded with Gemma’s vibrant, laughing face. The moment my wife and son left for Europe, I packed a bag and moved straight into Gemma’s apartment. We worked together by day and dissolved into each other by night. As the warm summer breeze swept through the open windows and the city lights flickered in the distance, I felt a sensation I hadn’t felt in a decade. I felt alive. Gemma couldn’t cook, and she hated cleaning, but I didn’t care. I hired a maid to come three times a week, pre-paid a tab at the bistro downstairs, and set up a delivery service with the local dry cleaners. The tedious, grinding realities of daily life were easily solved with a little bit of money. At drinks, my buddies would always lecture me. “You need a woman who knows how to run a household,” they’d say. I always laughed it off. Fiona was there to run the household. Gemma’s job was simply to be my escape. One night, a close friend clinked his glass against mine and warned me quietly, “Careful, man. You’re playing with fire.” I just smiled and shook my head. Not everyone is lucky enough to find a perfect muse. Only much later did I realize the most tragic truth of life: the worst thing isn’t making the wrong choice. It is when everyone around you watches you make that choice, and no one can do a single thing to stop you. 2 The night before Fiona and Toby were scheduled to return, Gemma and I lost track of time playing video games. We ended up staying up until dawn, which meant we completely slept through their arrival. Because of my negligence, my wife and son were left stranded at the airport for over two hours. When I finally bolted awake, my phone was buzzing with thirty-two missed calls. I sat up so fast my head spun. Gemma rubbed her sleepy eyes, yawning. “What’s wrong?” “I missed their flight,” I panicked, throwing the blankets off. She sat up, her brow furrowing in irritation. “Ubers are everywhere. Why do you have to play chauffeur anyway? You work so hard. Why can’t she just let you sleep?” I didn’t stay to listen to the rest. I ran out to the balcony and dialed Fiona’s number. “I am so sorry, Fiona. The client dinner went incredibly late last night, and I slept right through my alarm.” The line was dead silent for several seconds. “It’s fine,” she said, her voice eerily calm. “We’re taking the train home. Toby bought a souvenir for you. He’s been carrying it in his backpack the whole way.” “Okay. I’ll see you at home.” When I hung up, Gemma was leaning against the bedroom doorframe, watching me. “So… you won’t be coming back here for a while, will you?” Her eyes welled with tears, though she forced a brave, fragile smile. I grabbed my coat and gently patted her head. “I have to go.” After a quick lunch with her to soften the blow, I sped back to our suburban home. On the way, I bought a massive bouquet of flowers for Fiona and a massive Lego set for Toby. Yet, an icy knot of anxiety was tightening in my chest. Something felt terribly wrong. The moment I inserted my key into the front door, I heard muffled sobbing from inside. My heart hammered against my ribs. I threw the door open. “What happened?” Toby was sitting on the hardwood floor, his face completely drenched in tears. He looked up at me with red, swollen eyes. “Dad,” he choked out. “Have you really not been home once since we left?” The air was violently sucked from my lungs. I had completely forgotten about our golden retriever, Buster. Fiona was kneeling next to our son, her shoulders shaking violently. On the kitchen island lay an unopened bag of dog food. Before she left, Fiona had taken the dog food out of the pantry and explicitly told me to feed him. I had given her a distracted nod, walked out the door, and never thought about the dog again. I slowly dropped to my knees. “I’m so sorry, buddy. I’ll buy you another puppy. The exact same breed, okay?” Fiona snapped. She looked at me with a gaze so cold it cut to the bone. “Marcus, that dog was with him for six years. Do you honestly think you can just replace him with a trip to a pet store?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “I’m sorry, Fiona. I just… I forgot.” Fiona didn’t argue. She walked over to the mudroom, grabbed a spade, and walked back to our son. “Come on, Toby,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Let’s go bury Buster.” Watching their retreating figures, I felt a suffocating pressure chest. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked away the hours. I sat in the silent house, staring at the wall, until I finally mustered the courage to call Fiona. “Hey, when are you guys coming back?” “Soon,” she replied. “Actually, I have a question for you.” “What is it?” “Where have you been sleeping this past week?” My grip on the phone tightened. “The guys and I were watching the playoffs. I stayed over at Dave’s place.” “Which Dave?” “Dave and the guys from the office.” Silence stretched over the line. “Are you sure about that?” “Yes, I’m sure.” My breathing was shallow and fast. In this world, as long as you deny everything and never back down, they can never prove a thing. “Okay,” she said, and hung up. I sat on the sofa, letting the phone screen go dark, then unlocking it, over and over again. Another forty minutes crawled by. My phone vibrated. I snatched it up, expecting Fiona, but the screen read Gemma. I frowned and swiped to decline. A text immediately popped up: Your wife is here. I scrambled off the sofa, my heart leaping into my throat. What did you just say? 3 She’s standing right outside my apartment door, Gemma’s text read. I don’t know how she found this place… Marcus, you need to get over here right now. What did you tell her? I typed back, my fingers shaking. Nothing! I haven’t opened the door. She’s just standing there, telling me to call you. My brain was screaming. Don’t admit to anything! Keep your mouth shut. I’m on my way! I grabbed my keys and bolted out the door. In the elevator, the polished metal walls reflected a face that was pale and slick with cold sweat. But when I reached the parking garage, I froze. My parking spot was empty. Fiona had taken the spare key when she left. The onboard GPS in our SUV had Gemma’s address saved in the recent destinations. Fiona didn’t even have to search for it; she just had to press start. I leaned against the concrete pillar, slowly sliding down to the dirty floor. She had boxed me in. She had cut off every single escape route. For the first time in my life, I felt absolute, paralyzing terror. My phone lit up again. How far away are you? I wiped the sweat from my forehead, shoved the phone into my pocket, and ran out to the street to hail a cab. When I arrived at Gemma’s building, I saw our family car parked right in front of the entrance. In the back seat, Toby was curled up, fast asleep, covered by Fiona’s trench coat. I didn’t wake him. I turned and ran up the stairs. The apartment door opened, and Gemma stood there, her face frantic. “What took you so long?” I pushed past her and scanned the living room. Everything looked shockingly normal. There was no signs of a struggle, no broken glass, no screaming. Fiona was sitting quietly on the velvet sofa. She looked up and gestured to the empty chair opposite her. “Have a seat, Marcus.” I tried to keep my voice steady, desperate to de-escalate the situation. “Fiona, Toby is asleep in the car.” “I know,” she said quietly. “These aren’t things a child needs to hear. Marcus, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” I closed my eyes, a wave of irritation washing over my panic. I hated being put on the defensive like this. Cheating wasn’t a capital crime. I wasn’t like those deadbeat dads who abandoned their families. I still cared about my home. I still cared about her. “Fiona, stop this,” I muttered. “Don’t make a scene.” She didn’t look at me. Instead, she turned her cold gaze toward Gemma. “I’m not going to waste my time talking to you about morals or integrity today. I doubt your parents ever bothered to teach you those concepts anyway.” “That’s enough!” I barked, stepping between them. “Look at yourself. Don’t you think you’re acting incredibly pathetic right now?” “Pathetic?” Fiona finally met my eyes. “You think my reaction is pathetic? You’re the one sleeping around, Marcus. If anyone is pathetic here, it’s you.” Before I could reply, Gemma reached out and gently tugged on my sleeve. “Marcus, please don’t fight with her because of me… It’s all my fault. I don’t want to be the reason your marriage falls apart.” Seeing Gemma’s tear-filled eyes, a protective anger flared in my chest. “Fiona, what the hell do you actually want?” “Good question.” Fiona reached into her designer bag, pulled out a thick manila folder, and slid it across the coffee table. “A powerful corporate executive like you shouldn’t have to sneak around. I’m going to make things easy for you both. I’m giving your little mistress a promotion to full-time wife.” I looked down at the documents. They were divorce papers. My chest tightened painfully. “Fiona, it’s late. Let’s go home and discuss this like adults.” She ignored me. She pulled a pen from her purse and handed it directly to Gemma. “As women, I think we understand each other. You can have the man. But you can’t have the money. Marcus committed a major marital fault. I am taking seventy percent of our joint assets.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “You can either sign these papers right now, and we settle this quietly. Or, I will hire a forensic accountant to audit every single dollar he has spent on you. And when the court rules in my favor, I will print the judgment and pin it to the bulletin board at his corporate headquarters. You choose.” The room fell dead silent. I closed my eyes, a sharp, throbbing pain blooming behind my temples. “So, this is who you really are,” I sneered. 4 Fiona looked at me, her expression entirely empty of emotion. “Yes. I’m sorry to disappoint you.” I let out a harsh laugh. “You want to know the difference between you and Gemma? Gemma would never use money or a divorce to blackmail me. Your greed is showing, Fiona. It’s ugly.” She didn’t flinch. She simply tilted her head back and let out a soft, dry laugh. “Thank you for the compliment.” The moment Fiona walked out the door, Gemma threw her arms around my neck, holding the signed divorce agreement. Her voice was breathless with excitement. “It’s perfect! You’re finally free. Now you belong entirely to me.” I kissed her forehead, but my eyes wandered to the window. Under the harsh glow of the streetlamp below, Fiona opened the car door, leaning in to adjust the coat over our sleeping son. I watched her car pull away, its taillights bleeding into the darkness, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away until the street was empty. “Marcus?” Gemma gently kissed my jaw. “You’re free now. No one can ever dictate your life again.” She was right. I was free. In thirty days, the divorce would be finalized, and we would be strangers. But for some reason, there was a hollow, echoing ache in my chest. Perhaps I had been suffocated by routine for so long that this sudden, absolute freedom felt terrifying. That night, Gemma tried every trick, every touch, and every position she knew, but my body refused to respond. I gently pushed her away, tracing her cheekbone. “Let’s just sleep, babe. I’m really tired.” Every Wednesday was boys’ night. When I pushed open the door to our usual private dining room, the entire table went silent. “Everyone, this is Gemma,” I announced, pulling out a chair for her. “My girlfriend.” The silence stretched for a painful five seconds. Dave laid his fork down slowly. “Are you serious, Marcus?” “Yeah. The divorce papers are already signed.” Ben let out a forced, awkward chuckle. “Well… congrats on the fresh start, man.” They clinked their glasses together, offering weak, superficial congratulations. But one person didn’t move. My college roommate, Nathan. He leaned back in his chair, his cold, calculating eyes slowly sweeping over Gemma. I nudged his shoulder. “What, nothing to say?” He shook his head, looking disgusted. “I don’t have anything nice to say, so I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Gemma raised her glass, looking at Nathan with a fragile, timid expression. “Nice to meet you, Nathan. I hope we can be friends.” Nathan let out a sharp, mocking snort. “I’m driving, so no alcohol for me. Got any green tea? I hear it’s your favorite flavor.” Gemma’s hand froze mid-air, her eyes instantly filling with tears. Ben frowned, trying to keep the peace. “Come on, Nathan. What’s your problem? Why are you taking it out on her?” “No problem at all,” Nathan said, sliding his chair back. He grabbed his leather jacket from the rack. “Next time we plan a dinner, let me know in advance. If we’re going to start inviting strangers, don’t bother calling me.” The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the room suffocatingly quiet. Ben tried to laugh it off. “Don’t mind him. He’s been single for too long. His social skills are practically nonexistent.” Under the table, I squeezed Gemma’s trembling hand. It was fine. It would just take some time for my friends to accept her. Over the next few weeks, my mind was a chaotic mess. My performance at work began to slip, so I decided to take a sudden vacation. I booked a trip to a beach resort for Gemma and me. Staring out at the endless blue horizon, the weight on my shoulders seemed to lift. We slipped back into our hedonistic rhythm. We made love in every corner of the hotel suite, from dawn until dusk, bathed in sunlight and the scent of sea salt. This was the life I had wanted. One evening, while we were walking through a local street market, I spotted a small golden retriever puppy in a pet stall. It looked exactly like Buster. Gemma knelt down to scratch the puppy behind its ears, looking up at me with a sweet smile. “Marcus, look how cute he is. Why don’t we buy him? It can be a peace offering for Toby.” I smiled and stroked her hair. “That’s a great idea.” I immediately dialed my son’s smart-watch. When Toby answered, I explained the surprise, but the line went quiet. “Thanks, Dad,” Toby said softly. “But I already have a new dog.” “Oh? Did your mom buy you one?” “No. Uncle Nathan bought him for me.” “Which Uncle Nathan?” I demanded, my grip on the phone tightening. Before Toby could answer, a deep male voice echoed in the background. “Toby, wash your hands. Dinner is ready.” 5 The voice was muffled, but I recognized it instantly. It was Nathan. “I gotta go, Dad. Dinner is ready,” Toby said, and the line went dead. My chest felt incredibly tight, as if a heavy stone was crushing my ribs. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Gemma noticed my pale face. “Marcus, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “I… I can’t catch my breath,” I wheezed, clutching my chest. “Help me sit down.” She guided me to a nearby bench, wrapping her arm around me. “You don’t have a fever. Maybe you got too much sun? Let’s go back to the hotel.” I closed my eyes, but those words kept playing on a loop in my head. Uncle Nathan bought him for me. Toby, wash your hands. Dinner is ready. Nathan was my brother. We had known each other for twelve years. But friends don’t belong in another man’s kitchen. They don’t call another man’s son to dinner with that level of casual intimacy. That was my place. Not his. I snapped my eyes open, pulled out my phone, and opened my chat with Nathan. Where the hell are you? I stared at the screen, watching the little typing bubble appear and disappear. My heart hammered against my ribs as I waited. Finally, a text popped up: Fiona’s place. My fingers trembled violently as I typed: That is MY house! Ten seconds passed. Calm down, Marcus. Don’t let your little side piece catch you sweating. “Fuck!” I kicked the metal trash can next to the bench. The metal dented with a loud, hollow clang, sending a sharp, shooting pain up my foot. But the physical pain didn’t do anything to numb the white-hot rage consuming me. I dialed Fiona’s number. The number you have dialed is currently unavailable… She had blocked me. I opened our chat on social media. A small, mocking red exclamation mark sat next to my sent message. The tropical sky suddenly looked gray. The ocean looked dirty. Back in the hotel room, even when I held Gemma in my arms, my mind kept drifting back to the day we signed the papers, to the sight of Fiona bending down to put her coat over our son. Fiona and I didn’t love each other anymore. We hadn’t for years. So why was my chest aching like this? My phone buzzed again. It was a message from my mother. Marcus? Is Fiona’s phone broken? I sent her a text and it says it couldn’t be delivered. Tomorrow is Toby’s birthday, right? I wanted to know what time you guys would be arriving. I sat up so fast my back popped. His birthday? Tomorrow? Yes, of course, she replied. Your father and I have decorated the house. We want to give him a big surprise. I stared at the calendar on my phone screen. Tomorrow was indeed Toby’s birthday. I had completely, utterly forgotten it. “Marcus?” Gemma’s arms wrapped around my waist from behind. “Why are you so distracted today?” “It’s nothing,” I muttered. I typed a quick message to my mother: Mom, I’m so sorry, but something urgent came up at the firm. I don’t think I can make it back in time. I’ll make it up to him when I get back, okay? My mother’s reply was casual: Oh, don’t worry about it. Work comes first. I’ll figure something out. I assumed that was the end of it, but the next morning, my phone rang. It was my mother again. “Marcus, you need to make sure you thank Nathan. He was an absolute lifesaver today.” I froze. “What?” “Oh, you have no idea! I called Toby yesterday, and he told me Uncle Nathan was planning a birthday dinner for him. I figured, why not do it together? So I asked Nathan to bring him over. He even brought us a gorgeous prime rib. He is such a polite young man…” A sharp, high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears.

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During my second month in the private hospital, waiting for a heart transplant, I was scrolling through my phone to pass the time. Suddenly, a line of glowing text drifted across the top of my screen: [She’s here! Get your phone ready to record!] [Record everything she does! This is your only evidence!] Before I could even react, the ward door was pushed open. Rebecca Lawson, my husband’s first love, walked in. Instinctively, I switched my phone to video recording mode and slipped it under my blanket. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. I felt her approach my bed, heard the rustle of the IV tube, and then the quiet click of her leaving. Only after she left did I open my eyes. The live comments on my screen had already exploded in real-time: [She just injected an allergen into your IV line! You’re going to suffer cardiac arrest!] [Your husband won’t save you! He’s going to give your donor heart to Rebecca instead!] [Trust me! Please! Call 911 now!] I had no idea who was sending these live comments. But my fingers were already pressing 91

1 By the time the police arrived, I could see my husband, Ethan Vance, from a distance. He shielded Rebecca behind his back, telling the officers that she was the “victim” here. The police seemed skeptical, but they still took notes as a matter of routine. Nobody cared about me. During the commotion, the vase on my bedside table was knocked to the ground. Shards of glass sliced open my calf. I gasped in pain, but not a single person turned to look at my way. [Forget about them! Backup the video now!] [Upload it to the cloud! Otherwise, they’ll delete it!] [Hurry! While they’re not looking!] Gritting my teeth, I used every ounce of my strength to push myself up from the hospital bed. I quickly backed up the video from my phone to my cloud storage. The live comments finally sighed in relief: [Okay, okay, it’s safe now.] [It’s going to hurt like hell next. Hold on.] [The ambulance is on its way.] Sure enough, a moment later, my entire body began to tremble violently. My chest felt as if it were being crushed by a giant fist. I curled up on the bed, cold sweat soaking through my hospital gown. But Ethan didn’t even glance at me. He only threw a cold word in my direction: “Stop faking it.” The pain was so intense that sweat poured down my face, and blood began to trickle from the corner of my mouth. The live comments kept refreshing: [He’s just a piece of trash. Don’t rely on him.] [You’ve already changed the first step of your fate!] [Hold on just a little longer! Someone is coming to save you!] I didn’t know who would come to save me. But the live comments had never lied to me. Catching a glimpse of the remaining fluid in the IV tube, I gritted my teeth and squeezed out a final plea for help with my raspy voice. “Help… please…” An officer standing closest to me finally noticed. He turned his head and looked at me. But his eyes were filled with nothing but disdain and mockery. He tapped my bedpost with his boot. “Mrs. Vance, stop acting. Everyone at the station knows how much you hate Miss Lawson. I didn’t expect you to go so far as to inject yourself with allergens just to get attention. Mr. Vance has already gone to take care of Miss Lawson. No one is watching your little show.” “Honestly, I kind of admire your dedication to a man. Too bad Mr. Vance only has eyes for Miss Lawson. You’d better pray she’s fine, or Mr. Vance might just divorce you right on the spot!” I knew Ethan didn’t love me, but I never expected even outsiders to look at me with such cruelty. The sharp, stabbing pain in my chest made it impossible for me to make another sound. My pale skin was quickly breaking out in hives from the severe allergic reaction. All the police officers were busy comforting Rebecca. Not a single person asked about my condition. As my consciousness began to fade, I heard someone nearby exclaim in surprise: “Oh my god! Why is there so much blood on the floor? Oh no, did something actually go wrong with Mrs. Vance?” “What could possibly go wrong? She’s just doing this to force Mr. Vance to look at her. She’s been making a scene all day. Fine, go call Mr. Vance and see if he’ll come.” But I didn’t get Ethan’s concern. I only got his ruthless interrogation. His hand, wearing a luxury watch, slapped me twice across the face. “Chloe, what the hell are you playing at? Do you think this will clear your suspicion?” My head snapped to the side from the force, blood trickling from my lip. The live comments were furiously spamming the screen: [I’m remembering this slap!] [He will pay for this sooner or later!] [Stay strong, girl! Don’t cry!] I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I didn’t cry. 2 I wanted to explain, but my throat was too swollen to utter a single word. I could only reach out and grab his sleeve. The live comments screamed: [Don’t beg him! It’s useless!] [He won’t believe you!] [Let go! Let him leave!] He hesitated for two seconds, but then he violently shook off my hand. “Do you know Rebecca almost died because of you? And yet, she’s still begging me to forgive you!” I watched his retreating figure as he turned and walked away. The live comments went quiet for a second, then said: [It’s okay. We don’t need him.] The next second, I heard someone scream: “Blood! She’s coughing up blood!” Then came Ethan’s cold voice from the hallway: “Ignore her! She’s just faking it!” The intense pain rushed over me, and my vision went black. [Hold on, girl!] [The delivery guy is almost here!] [Just one more minute!] Before I lost consciousness, my last thought was: *Who is the delivery guy?* When I woke up, a strange man was sitting by my bed. Seeing me open my eyes, he let out a sigh of relief. “You’re awake? I’m a family member of a patient in the next ward. I came in to borrow a charger and saw you seizing on the floor, so I called the doctors.” I opened my mouth, wanting to say thank you. He waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. By the way, the doctor said your heart took a massive hit this time. Your chances of a successful transplant in the future are very low.” I froze. The live comments drifted across my screen: [It’s him! He was the one who saved you in your past life too!] [May good karma follow him forever!] [Remember his face!] Looking at this stranger, I suddenly didn’t feel so afraid anymore. “Thank you for saving me.” Even a complete stranger could tell at a glance that something was seriously wrong with me, yet the husband I had been married to for three years couldn’t be bothered to look at me once. Seeing my depressed state, he seemed even angrier than I was. “I don’t know what’s wrong with the doctors in this hospital. How could they just leave a patient dying on the floor?” “If I hadn’t walked past, you’d be dead by now! Where is your family? Doesn’t your husband care?” “Give me his number. I’ll call him. You shouldn’t be left alone right now.” “And that woman named Rebecca—I’ve already reported her. Faking an illness to frame someone else… having someone like that in this hospital is a hazard!” I shook my head, able to produce only a faint whisper. “My husband is dead.” Hearing this, his face filled with sympathy. He offered to stay and look after me until I was discharged. I politely declined his kindness. After transferring the medical expenses back to him via PayPal, I convinced him to leave. Though he left, the storm online was just beginning. The scandal of “The Wife of Vance Medical Group’s CEO Self-Harms to Beg for Love” carried its own traffic. Right now, it had surged to the number one trending topic on Instagram and Twitter. A patient’s family member had posted a photo of me collapsed on the floor in the comments section. Instantly, the internet exploded. Everyone was calling me a manipulative psycho who would do anything to keep her man. They accused me of throwing stones at a real patient, Rebecca. They said if that was the case, I deserved to be abandoned and shouldn’t shamelessly try to guilt-trip true love. I scrolled through the endless cyberbullying comments. The live comments said: [Don’t be sad. The truth will come out.] [The video in your hand is your trump card.] [Let them play their little games for a few more days.] I turned off my phone and took a deep breath. Fine. I would wait. Just as I opened Snapchat to send him a text about getting a divorce, Rebecca’s bragging message popped up first. As it turned out, she was also in this hospital, staying on the VIP floor right above me. In the photo, Ethan was personally feeding her soup. Afraid she might burn herself, he was gently blowing on it. I had seen countless photos of their intimacy before. I quietly closed the chat window and called Ethan. On the fifth attempt, he finally picked up. His voice was irritated to the extreme. “You still have the nerve to call? Are you calling to check if Rebecca is dead? Let me tell you, she’s alive and well! Your plan failed! Chloe, how can you be so vicious? What did Rebecca ever do to you that made you want to kill her?” “Chloe, I must have been blind to marry you! Do you even realize what you did? You committed attempted murder! If anything had happened to Rebecca, I would have never forgiven you!” Before I could speak, Rebecca’s whimpering voice sounded from his end. “Ethan, don’t blame Chloe. It’s all my fault. If she says I injected the medicine myself, then let’s just say I did. Don’t fight with her. A patient shouldn’t get too emotional.” Ethan let out a long sigh, his voice thick with disappointment. “You’re just too kind. That’s why she keeps stepping all over you! She wanted your life, and you’re still begging for her!” “Don’t worry about this anymore. This time, I’m going to teach her a lesson she’ll never forget!” As the two of them continued their sickening display, I spoke up calmly: “Sure. Let’s get a divorce. I agree. I’ll send you the papers. Just sign them.” Ethan clearly didn’t expect me to be the one to bring up divorce. He froze for a second, then exploded with fury. But before he could launch into a tirade, I hung up. [YEAH!!!] [Finally standing up for yourself, girl!] [Good riddance! Why keep a trash man like him around?] The live comments cheered in celebration. Before I could block his number, a barrage of texts flooded in. “Where are you? Chloe, have you lost your mind today? I let things slide before because you were sick, and now you’re pushing your luck?” “Do you think hiding behind your illness will save you from the law? Let me tell you, Rebecca might be too kind to press charges, but I won’t let you off! Divorce? In your dreams! You will apologize to Rebecca and get her forgiveness first!” “Also, take down the news online immediately! Don’t force me to expose your real face to the public!” I stared at the toxic messages on the screen. The live comments said: [Don’t read them. Just block him.] I did exactly that. And then I realized I wasn’t as sad as I thought I would be. Probably because the live comments had already prepared me for this. A few nurses walked in to change my IV. Not noticing my expression, they started gossiping among themselves. “The guy upstairs is so handsome. I’ve never seen a couple look so perfect together! I heard they’ve been together since high school. True high school sweethearts. I’m so jealous.” “Your news is outdated. The latest is that Mr. Vance actually rented out a whole kitchen section in the hospital’s VIP nutrition department just to cook her soup himself every day!” “I went to check her blood pressure earlier, and Mr. Vance wouldn’t even let me touch her. He had to wrap the cuff himself. Now that’s a real, loving husband!” 3 I stared blankly at the needle marks on the back of my hand. My arm, covered in hives, was itching and burning. Once they left, I felt a wave of relief. I gasped for air, trying to fill my lungs, but my chest felt too tight to let any oxygen in. That evening, the doctor came to check on me. He said my heart had suffered severe damage from the allergic reaction. Even if a donor organ became available, the success rate of the transplant would be less than thirty percent. Hearing this, I fell silent for a long time. The live comments said softly: [It’s okay. You can still live a good life on your own.] I nodded. Once everyone left the room, I pulled out my phone to check the latest updates online. The cyberbullying had reached an uncontrollable peak, forcing the hospital’s PR head to release a statement. However, his explanation was that the allergy incident was entirely self-inflicted by me. He claimed that out of jealousy, I had intentionally injected myself to frame Rebecca. Not only did I waste the hospital’s emergency resources, but I also dragged their outstanding young entrepreneur, Mr. Vance, into the dirt. In the video, the PR head kept saying he hoped the public would let this matter go. But every single word he spoke was guiding the public’s rage directly toward me. To make the video more believable, Ethan had registered a verified account under his real name and posted a photo of our marriage certificate. His move officially hammered me to the cross of public outrage. The anger previously directed at the hospital instantly turned on me. My Instagram page was flooded with hate, and the platform eventually banned my account. Any explanations I tried to post were immediately drowned out by the waves of insults. Over the next few days, I could feel the hostile glares from the medical staff. If it weren’t for their basic professional ethics, they probably would have thrown me out of the hospital already. Every day, I received packages from unknown senders. Without exception, they were filled with razor blades, hate mail, and death threats. Faced with all of this, I never uttered a single word of defense. I only waited until the day the doctor cleared me for discharge to send Ethan one final message. “Tomorrow morning, family court. Let’s sign the divorce papers.” He seized the opportunity to call me back immediately. “What, finally can’t hide anymore? Have the face to show up? I warned you, and I gave you a chance. You refused to clear the rumors online, so don’t blame me for being ruthless now!” “If Rebecca hadn’t begged me not to press charges, you’d be sitting in a prison cell right now! And you still show no gratitude? Fine, we’ll divorce! But remember, it’s not me abandoning you—it’s you who doesn’t deserve to be my wife! A vicious woman like you deserves to die alone!” He slammed the phone down before I could reply. I silently opened the recorded video on my phone, making sure the backup was intact. The next morning, after checking out of the hospital, I took my documents and drove straight to the family court. But when the time came, the person who showed up was Rebecca. “I told you, you could never win against me. Your husband is nothing but my loyal dog.” Looking at my chest, she feigned a shocked expression. “Oh my, that broken heart is still beating? What a pity. Abandoned by everyone… tied to a sickly body like yours, you really won’t live long, will you?” How did she know about my heart’s condition? Before I could wrap my head around it, my hand had already smacked across her face. The live comments gasped: [??? She knows the future!] [Is she a reincarnator too?!] [Oh my god, both of you can see the future!] I froze in place. Was she also… warned by some kind of live chat? Having just left the hospital, I was extremely weak and didn’t have much strength. Yet, she fell straight to the ground. “Rebecca!” Ethan rushed over from behind me, violently shoving me aside. I tumbled down the concrete steps of the courthouse, my forehead slamming against the sharp edge of the stairs. Blood immediately began to pour down my face. Ethan held her tightly in his arms. As if suddenly remembering something, he snapped his head toward me. “What did you do to Rebecca?! Are you trying to hurt her again?!” 4 I struggled to climb back up, my movements stiff and painful from my fresh wounds. Clutching my aching chest, I looked at him with nothing but pure mockery. “My heart? What, can a discarded patient still receive the concern of the great CEO of Vance Medical Group?” “You truly are the perfect man praised by the entire internet. It’s deeply moving. But your concern is wasted. The transplant opportunity is gone. It died on the day of my allergic reaction.” “By the way, congratulations to the happy couple. Though I wonder how many good days you have left. Enjoy them while you can, because next time you want to see your wife, you’ll have to visit her in prison.” Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly, his face twisting with rage. “Chloe, do you have to be so venomous? I am the CEO of the group; managing the hospital is my duty. When you injected yourself that day, I didn’t hold you legally responsible and even got you a doctor. And now you’re blaming me?” “What right do you have to speak to me like that! You have no right!” “What did you do to Rebecca? She just said her chest hurts! Chloe, if you dare touch a single hair on her head again, I will destroy you! Do you think faking an illness will make me soft? In your dreams!” I looked into his eyes. The eyes I once loved now held nothing but disgust and suspicion. The live comments said: [It’s not too late to see him for what he really is.] I smiled. Yes, it wasn’t too late. He helped Rebecca up and prepared to walk toward me. Rebecca let out a well-timed gasp of pain, immediately making him stop. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt? Should I take you back to the hospital? Your body just recovered, we can’t take any risks.” “I’m fine… don’t be mad at Chloe. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have gone to her ward that day to make her angry. If I had known she hated me so much, I would have stayed away. It’s all my fault…” Her tears fell right on cue. Ethan’s eyes immediately reddened with pity. Their public display of affection made my stomach churn with disgust. I couldn’t help but cut them off: “Are you two done with the drama? If you’re done, let’s go inside and sign the papers.” “I’m clearing the spot for you guys, so you don’t have to keep sneaking around.” The moment I spoke, his anger flared again. “Chloe, is your heart made of stone? Can’t you see how badly you’ve hurt Rebecca?” “I order you to apologize to her right now!” Laughing at his sheer shamelessness, I caught sight of the smug smirk on Rebecca’s face behind his back. I said coldly: “The only blind one here is you! You pushed me down the stairs. Did you apologize to me? What right do you have to call yourself a husband? By leaving me to die during my allergic attack?” “Or by spending the entire year of my hospitalization sleeping with another woman?” His eyebrows shot up, and he roared at me: “Because you tried to take Rebecca’s life! Did you think about the consequences when you injected her with that drug? She almost died! A monster like you doesn’t deserve to talk about love!” “I thought giving you a week to cool off would make you reflect, but it seems that was completely useless!” “A lunatic who has lost her mind like you belongs in jail! Rebecca was too foolish to let it go, but I won’t! Divorce? You won’t get a single penny! If you want to live, beg Rebecca for forgiveness!”

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“Chloe is pregnant,” Julian said, his voice barely a whisper, standing in the dim shadows of the wedding rehearsal hall. “The wedding goes on as scheduled. After we’re married, I’ll just spend a few days a week taking care of her. Once she’s stable, everything will go back to normal.” I clenched the velvet ring box, my knuckles turning white. “And what about me? What am I in this little arrangement of yours?” “You’re my fiancée. Tomorrow, you’ll be Mrs. Carter.” He frowned, looking at me as if he were trying to reason with a spoiled, throwing-a-tantrum child. “Isn’t that title enough for you?” Chloe stood nearby, wearing an oversized coat that perfectly accentuated her pale, fragile face. She chimed in softly, “Natalie, please. I’m not trying to steal the title of Mrs. Carter from you. I just… I just want my baby to have a father.” I placed the ring box quietly on the table. “Then whoever wants this title can have it.” A man who had already been touched by someone else? I didn’t want him anymore. *** **1** **Natalie Vance’s POV** I was supposed to marry Julian Carter, the man I had loved for years. I had spent the last six months obsessing over every detail of this wedding, down to the exact shade of the customized crystal glasses for our new home. But tonight, during our wedding rehearsal, the giant screen in the ballroom suddenly flickered, playing an unnamed video file. On the screen, Chloe Sterling—Julian’s childhood best friend—was gently rubbing her barely visible baby bump, her voice dripping with sweet innocence: “Julian, the doctor said the baby is doing great. Don’t drink too much at the wedding tomorrow. You promised me you’d spend a few days a week with us after you’re married. Don’t you dare forget.” In the top right corner of the screen, Julian’s contact name for her was saved as: *My Chloe & Baby*. The entire ballroom fell dead silent. Julian, who had arrived late, didn’t even look panicked. He just frowned at me and said, “Don’t make a scene here. Don’t make us a laughingstock.” I stood in the shadows, the corners of the ring box digging painfully into my palm. One of Julian’s groomsmen quickly tried to save face, awkwardly laughing as he blocked the projector. “Hey, this is just a misunderstanding! Chloe’s just joking around like she always does. Natalie, don’t take it to heart. Chloe grew up with us. She’s just a close friend!” The next second, the doors to the hall pushed open, and Chloe walked in. She was wearing an oversized beige coat, holding a thermos, looking perfectly pale and vulnerable. Seeing me, she managed a fragile smile. “Natalie, don’t be upset. Julian and I… it’s really not what you think. The baby was an accident. I never wanted to come between you two.” “An accident?” I asked, my voice calm but cold. Julian stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Stop it, Natalie. There are too many people here tonight.” I looked up at him. “She’s pregnant with your child, and you’re telling me to stop?” Julian scowled, as if my reaction was incredibly uncalled for. “I wasn’t planning on keeping it from you. But now that the baby is here, I can’t just abandon them. The wedding will go on. After we’re married, I’ll spend a few days a week taking care of her. Once she’s stable, everything will go back to how it was.” Chloe chimed in right on cue. “Yes, Natalie, please don’t worry. I won’t steal your place. I’m not greedy. I just want my baby to have a father.” “And what about me?” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “What am I in this perfect little plan of yours?” Losing his patience, Julian snapped, “You’re my fiancée. Tomorrow, you’ll be Mrs. Carter. Isn’t that enough? Chloe has no family left. I’m just helping her out. Why do you have to act like such a victim?” Around me, some of Julian’s relatives started whispering. They murmured that a man making one mistake before marriage wasn’t the end of the world, that Julian was being honest now, and that since Chloe was being so ‘sensible,’ I shouldn’t make things difficult. I placed the ring box on the table. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was crystal clear. “The wedding is cancelled.” Julian’s face darkened instantly. “Natalie Vance, think carefully before you speak.” “I have thought about it.” I grabbed my designer clutch, stepping around him. “You two can keep rehearsing. Enjoy the show.” As I reached the exit, my phone buzzed. Tristan Brooks’s voice came through the speaker, laced with a rare, tense urgency. “Natalie, if you don’t want to marry him, walk out. Now. I’m parked right outside.” The cold night air hit my face, and my eyes stung with unshed tears. “Wait for me,” I whispered. Standing at the end of the corridor, I called the wedding coordinator. “Don’t open the bridal suite tomorrow. Cancel every single event associated with my name. If there are any cancellation fees, send the bill directly to my email.” The coordinator’s voice shook with panic. “Miss Vance, are you sure we can’t work this out?” I stared at my reflection in the glass window. My makeup was still flawless, but I felt entirely hollowed out. “There’s nothing to work out. The groom has someone else to take care of now. I’m stepping aside.” After hanging up, I opened the wedding group chat on Snapchat. People were still texting about arrival times, joking about Julian not drinking too much tonight. I renamed the group to *Wedding Cancelled* and left the chat. “Go find someone else who’s ‘broad-minded’ enough to be your Mrs. Carter.” With that, I threw the ring box onto the console table. It made a sharp clatter. “We are done.” Ignoring Julian’s furious face, I turned my back on him. I sent one final message to the Snapchat wedding group: *Wedding is off.* Then, I blocked everyone and left the group. *** **2** **Natalie Vance’s POV** The moment I stepped out of the hotel lobby, Tristan’s black Maybach was already idling at the curb. “If you really want out, get in,” Tristan said, looking at me through the open window. That was all he said. No judgment, just safety. My eyes burned as I pulled open the door. “I need to go back to the penthouse to get my passport and papers.” That penthouse was a place I had poured my heart into for six months. But when I pushed the door open, the foyer was cluttered with baby sleeping bags and unopened boxes of prenatal vitamins. Julian’s mother, Victoria Carter, was busy directing the movers to clear out the guest bedroom. Seeing me walk in, she smiled as if nothing had happened. “Oh, Natalie, perfect timing. Chloe is in her first trimester, and she has no one to look after her. I’m having her move in here for a few weeks. You’re going to be the real Mrs. Carter, so you need to be understanding. A good wife keeps the peace at home.” I stared at her coldly. “This is my wedding home with Julian.” “The Carter family trust bought this place, and Chloe is carrying a Carter heir. What’s wrong with her staying here for a bit?” Victoria’s smile vanished, replaced by an icy glare. “Julian is an incredibly successful man. It’s only natural for men like him to have distractions. Do you really not understand how high society works?” “Then go find someone who does, and let her marry your son.” I didn’t waste another breath. I walked straight into the master bedroom, packing my passport, ID, and important documents into a suitcase. Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway. Julian burst into the room, his face pale with rage as he slammed his hand against the doorframe to block me. “How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum? If you walk out that door tonight, what are we supposed to do tomorrow?” “Did you think about what I was supposed to do when you let Chloe move into our home?” I shoved past him, my eyes filled with absolute disgust. “I am not throwing a tantrum, Julian. I am leaving. Did you honestly expect me to stay, give up my guest room, drive her to her OB-GYN appointments, and smile while taking care of her?” Victoria piped up from the living room, “Chloe is pregnant! Watch your mouth, Natalie!” “That’s why I’m leaving!” I snapped back. Julian didn’t believe I would actually walk away. Everyone in our social circle knew I had chased him for four years. I was the one who brought him homemade soup when he worked late, the one who remembered every single food allergy he had, and the one who kept track of his family’s birthdays. Julian was used to my gentle nature. He was used to me hiding my own scars just to keep him happy. He reached out to grab my suitcase. “Go stay at a hotel tonight to cool off. The makeup artists are coming at six in the morning.” I pulled the suitcase back, out of his reach. “Cancel them.” “Natalie Vance,” Julian warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Don’t make me say something ugly in front of my mother.” “Go ahead. I’d love to hear it too.” Tristan’s voice cut through the tension. He walked out of the elevator and casually took the handle of my suitcase. Julian’s face contorted the moment he saw him. “What the hell are you doing here?” “Picking her up,” Tristan replied smoothly. “She doesn’t want to stay here, so I’m taking her with me.” Julian let out a harsh laugh. “This is between me and my fiancée. Since when do you get a say, Tristan?” Tristan looked down at me. “Is he still your fiancé?” My answer was instant. “No.” Victoria stood up, trembling with rage. “Natalie! Do you have any idea what you are doing? Marriage isn’t a game. If you run off with another man tonight, do you know what people will say about you tomorrow?” “They’ll say I found out my fiancé got another woman pregnant before the wedding, and I was smart enough to trash the trash.” I looked her dead in the eye. “I’m perfectly fine with that.” Julian stared at me, a cold smile forming on his lips. “Trash the trash? Natalie, you’re talking tough right now, but don’t come crying back to me in two days.” I didn’t look back. Julian lunged forward to grab my wrist. “Natalie, I said don’t leave with him!” I stepped back, slapping his hand away with utter disgust. “Don’t touch me. You make me sick.” The elevator doors slowly slid shut, completely locking away Julian’s furious, panicked face. Only when the elevator began to descend did my tense shoulders finally drop. Tristan stood beside me. After a long silence, he asked softly, “Does it hurt?” “Where?” “Everywhere.” I looked up at him, tears finally threatening to spill. I forced them back, whispering, “Even if it hurts, I’m never going back.” Tristan switched the suitcase to his other hand. “Then we don’t look back.” The next morning, the Carter family tried to push through with the wedding anyway. Victoria kept calling my mother, screaming about how I was ruining their family’s reputation. My father took the phone and gave a cold, single-sentence reply: “The wedding is cancelled. Never contact my daughter again.” Julian tried to call me, but his number was already blocked. He used his assistant’s phone to dial. This time, Tristan answered. “She’s resting,” Tristan said. “Mr. Carter, stop calling.” Julian roared through the speaker, “Put her on the phone!” “Why should I?” Tristan paused, his voice like ice. “You owe her some peace.” He hung up. Richard Carter tried to call my father to negotiate. He barely got half a sentence out before my father cut him off. “My daughter is not marrying into your family,” my father said. “If the Carters feel humiliated, you should ask your son what he chose to display on the screen at the wedding rehearsal.” *** **3** **Natalie Vance’s POV** The news of the cancelled wedding spread through high society like wildfire. Some said I was too dramatic, while others said Julian had crossed a line. Most people stayed quiet, waiting to see if the Vance and Carter families would officially go to war. I didn’t make any public statements. I slept for a full twelve hours in the penthouse apartment Tristan had lent me. When I woke up, I texted my parents to let them know I was safe, and then I settled all the remaining bills with the wedding vendors. The wedding was off, but the florists, photographers, and coordinators had worked hard. I wasn’t going to let my personal disaster affect innocent people. The lead florist called me, her voice incredibly tentative. “Miss Vance, the floral arrangements for the main stage are still fresh. Would you like us to repurpose them for a charity gala instead? Didn’t you mention the Vance Foundation has an event next week?” I held the phone, quiet for a moment. “Yes. Do that. But change the theme completely. No wedding colors.” When Tristan walked out of the kitchen holding a bowl of warm oatmeal, I was busy typing out a checklist on my iPad. “You’re not resting?” he asked. “Someone has to clean up the mess.” I handed him the tablet. “The hotel is taken care of. If the Carters try to harass me, tell them to talk to my father’s lawyers.” Tristan scanned the list, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re much more resilient than I expected.” I smiled faintly. “I used to spend all my resilience keeping Julian happy.” That afternoon, Chloe posted on Instagram. It was a photo of her sitting in a hospital corridor, a warm latte in hand. The caption was short but pointed: *Sometimes, true companionship doesn’t need a legal title. Those who understand, understand.* A mutual friend immediately sent me a screenshot. I looked at it and didn’t bother replying. But then, Julian called me from an unknown number. “What exactly do you want, Natalie?” he demanded the second I picked up. “You cancelled the wedding, made our guests fly in for nothing, and the hotel deposit is gone. Are you happy now?” I replied calmly, “I paid the vendors in full.” Julian choked on his words for a second, then hissed, “You think throwing money around makes you right? Chloe almost had a miscarriage today because of the stress, and you haven’t even called to ask how she is!” I actually laughed. “What does her baby have to do with me?” “You know she has no one else!” “She has you,” I said. “Julian, you don’t get to play the doting father for her child while demanding I play the understanding fiancée. I’m out of the game. You’re free.” Silence fell over the line. Julian’s tone finally softened, a hint of desperation creeping in. “Natalie… I never wanted to lose you.” “But every single thing you did ensured that you would.” I hung up and blocked the number. Tristan stood by the kitchen counter. Seeing me set the phone down, he asked, “What do you want for dinner?” No lectures. No analysis of what I should do. No telling me to “be the bigger person.” Just a simple question about dinner. My nose tickled, and my eyes grew warm. “Something sweet.” Tristan rolled up his sleeves. “You got it. I’m cooking tonight.” Halfway through the delicious dinner, I suddenly stopped eating. Tristan looked up. “Stomach hurt?” I shook my head. “I was just thinking… was I really that easy to appease before?” Whenever Julian told me I was being “annoying,” I would immediately doubt myself and think I was being too sensitive. Whenever he bought me a generic holiday gift, I would instantly forgive him for ignoring me for days. I used to call it “making compromises for love.” Looking back, I was just managing his bad temper for him. Tristan didn’t trash-talk Julian. He just said, “That wasn’t your fault, Natalie. The fault lies with the person who knew how easily you loved him, and chose to hurt you anyway.” I took a sip of the warm soup, the rich flavor making my throat tight. I refused to cry, so I forced a laugh. “Since when did you become such a smooth talker?” Tristan’s hand paused. “I’ve had practice.” “With who?” “With someone I’ve been trying to win over,” he said, staring directly into my eyes. “For a very long time.” As Tristan cleared the table, I sat there in silence. I suddenly remembered the first time I brought Julian home to meet my parents. My mother had pulled me aside and asked, “Does he treat you well, sweetheart?” Back then, I defended him fiercely, saying he just wasn’t good with words, and that successful men always had a bit of a temper. Now, I realized those weren’t explanations. They were excuses I made to protect my own pride. “What are you thinking about?” Tristan asked. I looked up. “I think my mom saw right through him back then. She just didn’t want to break my heart.” Tristan set a warm mug of tea next to my hand. “Well, you don’t have to make excuses for anyone anymore.” *** **4** **Julian Carter’s POV** The reality didn’t hit me until the third day. When I went back to our penthouse, the security code had been changed. The building manager informed me that Miss Vance had authorized her lawyers to handle her half of the property, and all her personal belongings had been moved out overnight. I stood in the empty hallway, holding a box of the tiramisu Natalie loved. In the past, whenever I bought her something sweet, she would always forgive me. She would nag me for a bit, but then she’d open the door, hang up my coat, and ask if I wanted a glass of water. But this time, there were no lights on inside. No one was waiting. I called our mutual friends. One of them sighed over the phone. “Julian, you really messed up this time. Natalie’s family handled all the cancellation logistics. They didn’t even ask the Carters to pay for a single dime. They were incredibly classy about it.” I snapped, “Where is she?” “I don’t know. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.” The line went dead. I sat in my car, my chest tightening. My phone buzzed—it was Chloe. She said she had no appetite and wanted the creme brulee from that bakery uptown. I ignored it. Chloe quickly sent a string of texts: *Are you blaming me, Julian? If it weren’t for me, Natalie wouldn’t have left. But the baby is kicking, and I’m so scared.* Staring at the word “baby,” my head throbbed. I had never intended to shirk my responsibility. That night at the college reunion, everyone had had too much to drink. Chloe had cried on my shoulder, talking about how lonely she was, asking me to just hold her for a while. I remembered pushing her away at first. I also remembered waking up next to her. She had smiled through her tears, saying, “It’s okay, Julian. It was just a one-night stand. Let’s just pretend it never happened.” I believed her. Or rather, I wanted to believe her. Because as long as I kept calling her my “friend,” I didn’t have to admit to myself how dirty the situation was. But now that Natalie was gone, that excuse sounded pathetic even to my own ears. That evening, my father, Richard, called me into his study. The Vance family’s lawyer was already sitting there. He pushed a stack of legal documents toward me. “Miss Vance’s terms are clear. Since no marriage license was filed, this is a simple dissolution of an engagement. She has covered all wedding expenses. Here is the list of gifts exchanged during the engagement; everything from the Carter family will be returned to your address.” My mother, Victoria, slammed her hand on the table. “What is she trying to do? Is she trying to run off with another man?” The lawyer raised an eye, his tone polite but firm. “Mrs. Carter, watch your words. Miss Vance is currently single. Who she associates with is none of Mr. Carter’s business.” I stared at the paperwork, my fingers turning numb. “Tell her to come say that to my face.” The lawyer capped his pen. “She has no desire to see you.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Fine. Let’s see how long she can hide.” After the lawyer left, my mother continued to rant about how heartless the Vance family was. But my eyes were glued to the return list. Natalie had returned everything. The engagement necklace, the heirloom bracelet my mother gave her, the designer bags I had casually bought her—even a pair of silver cufflinks I had left behind. She didn’t keep a single thing. She was clearing me out of her life like a tenant cleaning out a rental. “She wasn’t like this before,” I muttered. My mother frowned. “What did you say?” I didn’t answer. Natalie used to take photos of every little thing I gave her, keeping them like treasures. She would be thrilled for days over a simple, mismatched bracelet. She didn’t care about the price; she cared about the thought. Now, she had converted all that love into a cold, neat inventory list. For the first time, I realized that the girl who used to run to me with open arms was truly gone. My father was calmer than my mother, but his expression was grim. Since the Vance family had pulled out of our joint ventures, several major deals we were negotiating had suddenly gone cold. Our partners wouldn’t give us a straight answer, only saying they needed “more time.” But in business, “more time” meant they were backing out. Richard stared at me. “What exactly do you plan to do with Chloe?” I couldn’t answer. Before, I thought I could handle the baby, marry Natalie, and keep everyone happy. Now, looking at those three things, each one felt like a slap in the face. My father sneered, “You always pride yourself on being rational, Julian. How did you manage to fail to calculate the most obvious consequences of your actions?” *** **5** **Julian Carter’s POV** Natalie wasn’t hiding. She had simply erased me from her life. The Vance Foundation’s charity gala went ahead as scheduled. The stage, originally intended for our wedding, had been transformed into a gorgeous spring garden theme. Natalie stood at the entrance wearing a simple, elegant black gown, helping her mother welcome the guests. She looked stunning, her smile poised and effortless. I crashed the event that night. I didn’t have an invitation, and the security guards stopped me at the entrance. My face burned with humiliation. “I’m Natalie Vance’s fiancé.” The guard’s voice was strictly professional. “Your name is not on the guest list, sir.” Those words felt like a physical slap. In the past, whenever I attended a Vance event, I was treated like the guest of honor. Natalie would always register my name weeks in advance, have a driver wait for me, and wave to me from across the room. Now, my name wasn’t even on the list. Tristan walked out of the main hall, his tuxedo jacket casually draped over his arm. “Mr. Carter, tonight is a charity event. Don’t make things difficult for the staff.” I glared at him. “What are you doing here?” “I’m a co-sponsor,” Tristan said, flashing his VIP badge. “Which means I actually have a right to be here.” Furious, I stepped forward to shove him, but a soft voice stopped me. “Julian.” Natalie walked over. Her pace was slow, but it made me freeze. “You’re finally willing to see me,” I said, trying to suppress my anger. “Come home with me.” “I am home,” Natalie said quietly. “Are you still throwing a fit?” My eyes were bloodshot. “Just because Chloe is pregnant, you’re going to throw away all our years together?” “It’s not because she’s pregnant,” Natalie said, looking at me with pity. “It’s because after you betrayed me, you expected me to clean up your mess.” My breath hitched. Guests at the entrance were already starting to stare. My mother, Victoria, rushed over, sighing dramatically. “Natalie, whatever fight you and Julian are having, keep it private. Why make a scene in front of everyone? It’s incredibly disrespectful to us.” Eleanor Vance, Natalie’s mother, walked out of the hall, her face cold. “Disrespectful? My daughter was humiliated by your son and his little friend right before her wedding. We haven’t even made a scene, Victoria, and you’re already playing the victim?” Victoria gasped, unable to find her words. Natalie handed me a small, velvet box. “Your engagement necklace. Consider it returned. The legal papers for the dissolution are inside. Whether you sign them or not doesn’t change the outcome.” I refused to take it. “I don’t agree to this.” Natalie casually handed the box to a nearby staff member. “Then let the lawyers handle it.” She turned and walked back into the hall. Tristan didn’t follow her immediately. He stepped up to me, his voice low. “She made herself clear. If you keep pushing, you’re only going to embarrass yourself further.” I clenched my fists. For the first time, I felt the door to Natalie’s heart close firmly in my face. Inside the hall, Natalie stood gracefully by her mother’s side. When guests subtly brought up the wedding, she didn’t dodge the questions. She simply smiled and said, “If it’s not the right fit, it’s best to stop. Walking away early is better than staying in a mistake.” Those words drifted to my ears just as security escorted me and my mother out through the side exit. Some business associates passed by; they initially wanted to say hello, but seeing my mother and me being escorted out, they quickly looked away. Victoria couldn’t handle the humiliation. “Look at her! Look how she’s humiliating us!” But I could only look at Natalie through the glass doors. She was talking to a donor, her posture straight and confident. There were no tears, no dramatic breakdowns, no desperate pleas for attention. She wasn’t trying to humiliate me. She had just stopped protecting me.

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When my boyfriend, Julian, passed away in a tragic geological expedition accident, he only managed to send back three last sentences. The first was a professional report to his department. The second was an apology to his parents. And the third was: [Chloe, you are my Quaternary Glaciation.] Chloe was my best friend. Both she and Julian were brilliant geologists. Years ago, behind my back, the two of them had applied for the exact same major at the same university. Later, they became the most compatible partners in the industry. Just to understand their conversations, I had forced myself to switch my major to Geology. But in the end, I was nothing more than an errand girl in the research lab. Julian used to comfort me. “Everyone has their own strengths, Avery. I’m just happy you’re my girlfriend.” Yet, he would still look at Chloe with that lingering gaze of admiration and regret. Even his final words were a confession to Chloe, expressed in a way I could never understand. Not long after, Chloe also passed away in another accident. They were memorialized together on campus as outstanding alumni. I lived the rest of my life in deep, silent regret. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in my junior year—on the exact day I was supposed to submit my major transfer application. Looking at the Snapchat group on my phone, where the two of them were chatting excitedly while completely ignoring me, I smiled. I clicked “Cancel” on my transfer application. This time, I was done chasing them.

After I withdrew my transfer application, the notifications on my phone kept buzzing. The two of them were chatting up a storm. I sent a quick message: [Have you guys eaten yet?] But my message was instantly buried, as if it had been muted. No one replied. Just moments ago, the group chat was supposed to be about planning my birthday dinner for tomorrow. But somehow, it had drifted back into a dense geological discussion that I couldn’t wedge myself into. Without hesitating, I left the group chat. Almost immediately, Julian sent me a private message with a question mark. Chloe sent one too. I didn’t reply to either. Then, Julian called. His voice was as gentle as always. “Avery, why did you leave the group chat?” Julian didn’t notice my silence. He just kept coaxing me in that patronizing, patient tone of his. “Chloe made that group. You leaving like that out of nowhere really hurt her feelings.” “If you’re upset about something, let’s talk about it when we meet tomorrow, okay? Just join the group back first.” Even though they were the ones who ignored me first, Julian still chose to prioritize Chloe’s feelings. I sat on my bed, staring blankly. The phone suddenly felt incredibly heavy in my hand, making it hard to breathe. I hung up, joined the group back, but still didn’t reply to any of their messages. The next morning, I was still trying to sleep when my phone vibrated aggressively with several calls. Chloe’s voice was bubbly and cheerful when I picked up. “Avery! Come on out, let’s celebrate your birthday! We still have class this afternoon!” Out of habit, I dragged myself out of bed to match their schedule. It was only when I walked downstairs that the cold air finally woke me up. But Chloe had already thrown her arms around me. Julian stood behind her with a warm smile, looking every bit like her boyfriend instead of mine. Chloe mysteriously pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift box. “Open it! Julian and I picked this out together for your birthday.” Staring at the elegant box—exactly like the one from my past life—I felt absolutely no desire to open it. Because I already knew what was inside: a plush toy that screamed of a lazy stereotype. In my past life, I had opened it with high expectations, only to feel like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. Chloe and Julian had been so excited. “Do you like it? We spent so much time picking it out. We both thought it looked just like you!” Back then, I didn’t see through it. It wasn’t until Chloe’s birthday three months later, when Julian went through endless trouble to buy her a piece of a lunar meteorite as a gift, that I realized what true effort looked like. I took the gift calmly. “Thanks.” Chloe pouted slightly. “Why do you look so down, Avery?” Julian answered casually for me. “She’s busy with her major transfer paperwork these days. She’s just tired, not unhappy.” He indeed knew what I was busy with, because he was the one who had convinced me to switch majors in the first place. Back then, Julian had told me: “If your classes are too hard, just transfer to Geology. Chloe and I will look after you.” So, I had blindly jumped into Geology in my junior year. But later, when I was yelled at by the professor, he was also the one who said impatiently: “You’re the one who insisted on studying Geology, even though you knew you weren’t cut out for it.” Hearing his confident words now, I just smiled. They had no idea that I wasn’t transferring anymore. Chloe nodded, dragging me toward a nearby diner. As soon as we sat down, Julian walked out with a birthday cake. The moment I saw the rich, dark chocolate frosting, my stomach churned with nausea. “Why is it chocolate cake again?” Julian shrugged. “You don’t really care for cake anyway, so I let Chloe pick her favorite.” Chloe whined playfully. “But chocolate is the best! Avery, you really need to change your stubborn habits.” “I don’t eat chocolate.” They both knew damn well that I hated chocolate. But every single time, they bought this exact flavor just to please Chloe. Julian gave me a strange, searching look. But Chloe quickly turned off the restaurant lights, and he looked away. The candle flames flickered. Julian urged, “Make a wish, Avery.” I didn’t have the patience. I closed my eyes halfway. Through the dim light, I saw Chloe excitedly putting on my birthday crown, closing her eyes, and making a wish alongside me. The warm candlelight illuminated Julian’s gaze beside her—so tender, so incredibly doting. A bitter, sickening feeling washed over me. It turned out that every single one of my birthdays was just a shared wish-granting ceremony for Chloe. No wonder my annual wish of “I hope the three of us stay happy together forever” never came true.

I had absolutely no appetite during the meal. Julian glanced at me several times. But he didn’t ask a single question, probably wanting to avoid a scene. On our way back to campus, I was initially walking between them. But they had been talking about their geology lab project the entire time. Without realizing it, I was pushed off the sidewalk. They walked side by side, laughing and talking seamlessly. It wasn’t until we reached the gates of their campus that Julian finally turned back to look at me, a helpless smile in his eyes. “How did you fall so far behind again?” “I won’t walk you all the way back to your dorm. Get home safe, okay?” I looked up at their university gates, watching the couples walking in hand-in-hand. I suddenly found it hilarious. When we applied for colleges, we had agreed to go to the same school. Yet, behind my back, an hour before the application deadline, they both changed their choices to the neighboring university. They kept me in the dark for half a month, and I only found out when the acceptance letters arrived. At the time, Julian had made up a cheap excuse. “The geology program is just better here, Avery. We couldn’t just compromise our futures for you.” Chloe had chimed in, “It’s fine! The campuses are right next to each other. We’re practically still together.” But for three years, I was always the one walking back to my dorm alone. I pulled my gaze back, my face blank. “Sure.” Julian’s gaze darkened as he stared at me. Suddenly, he said, “Actually, let me walk you back.” But in the next second, Chloe groaned. “Oh, but class is starting soon, Julian. Avery can walk back by herself, right?” Julian frowned, looking at me silently. I said calmly, “Don’t worry about me.” His brow instantly cleared. “Alright, I’ll walk you back next time.” I turned and walked away. After only a few steps, I pulled out my phone and texted Julian: [Let’s break up.] Not long after the message sent, I heard hurried footsteps behind me. Julian caught up, grabbing my hand tightly. “Why are you suddenly saying this? Stop joking around.” “I’m not joking.” Julian let out a soft laugh, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Have you just been in a bad mood lately? Talk to me.” He glanced back in Chloe’s direction. “But don’t bring this drama to Chloe. It’s finals week and she’s super stressed. Don’t distract her.” I froze. It wasn’t until my chest ached with a dull pain that I snapped back to reality. Even when I broke up with him, Julian didn’t take it seriously. His only concern was Chloe. Before Chloe came into our lives, Julian and I were childhood sweethearts who knew each other best. When we were kids, Julian would fight anyone who called me slow. When we grew up, he would spend hours helping me study. Even when my parents got divorced and abandoned me, Julian used his savings and part-time tutoring money to help pay my tuition. But the moment Chloe—a girl who seemingly “needed more taking care of”—appeared, it was always my turn to step aside. By now, Chloe’s frantic texts were already buzzing on his phone. Julian quickly wiped a tear from my cheek. “I have class. Go back and calm down first.” I had heard that phrase a thousand times. Every time I argued with him because of Chloe, it always ended with him telling me to “calm down.” As if the problem was always me. While he stood on the sidelines, never once validating my feelings. That night, Julian only sent one text: [Don’t forget to take your pain meds.] Looking at the text, my leg was throbbing. It was an old injury from my years of competitive dancing. In my past life, it had gotten so bad after graduation that I needed major surgery. But right before the surgery, Julian and Chloe’s two-year research project lost its funding, halting their experiment. At that time, I was working at the lab by day and teaching dance at night to raise money, but it was barely a drop in the bucket. Seeing them so stressed and depressed after their funding applications kept getting rejected, I took my surgery money and filled their gap. The experiment went on. But that was the single biggest regret of my life. Six months after giving up my surgery, I had a sudden flare-up during a freelance performance and fell off a three-foot stage. At the hospital, the doctor looked at the MRI and sighed. “The nerve damage is severe. If you had come in six months ago, we could have saved it. But now, you’ll likely walk with a permanent limp.” I remember sitting on that hospital bed, staring at the white walls. I called Chloe and Julian. Neither picked up. I called one of their lab colleagues. The colleague sent me a video. [It’s someone’s birthday, so the whole lab came out to celebrate!] In the video, Julian and Chloe were sitting close together in the corner of a karaoke bar. Amidst the roaring laughter of their friends, they were playing a game, passing a cookie mouth-to-mouth. Their eyes locked in an intimate gaze that made it look like they were actually kissing. The neon lights in the video were blinding, and my chest felt like it was being ripped open. It wasn’t until the next day that Julian finally called me back. He said dismissively: “A limp? It’s fine. Worst case, you just don’t dance anymore.” “Honestly, performing in public all the time wasn’t a great look anyway.” He seemed to have completely forgotten whose surgery money had funded his precious experiment.

The cold sensation of the pain patch snapped me out of my memories. I immediately booked an appointment with an orthopedic specialist for the next day. At the hospital, the doctor looked at my scans, his expression serious. “We caught it early. If we do the surgery now, you can fully recover and keep dancing.” “But before the surgery, you must avoid any strenuous activity. If it worsens, the damage might become irreversible.” Since summer break was just around the corner, I let out a breath of relief. When I got back to the dorms, I bumped into Chloe and Julian at the entrance. Julian saw the medical envelope in my hand and frowned. “What’s that?” I brushed him off. “Just a routine scan.” Julian nodded and didn’t press further. Because a sobbing Chloe was far more urgent. “Avery, why do you want to break up with Julian? Is it because of me?” “Julian and I are just friends! You’re the most important person to me, how could you doubt us?” I stared at her silently. I couldn’t help but think of my past life. After Julian’s accident, Chloe couldn’t accept it and blamed me for everything. “If you hadn’t kept texting him the night before, he wouldn’t have been so tired! He wouldn’t have made that mistake!” Because of Chloe’s words, everyone had turned their anger on me. Even the local media picked up the story. I was cyberbullied until I fell into severe depression, almost taking my own life. Now, hearing her fake-crying, I asked her directly: “Chloe, don’t you love Julian?” Chloe’s eyes widened in panic, and she stammered: “How could I take your boyfriend? Besides, if we wanted to be together, we would have done it long ago. Why would he even be with you if he liked me?” Julian looked at me, thoroughly disappointed. “Avery, you shouldn’t doubt Chloe. She’s the one who cares about you the most.” His voice carried a commanding tone. “Apologize to Chloe.” I looked at him. “I don’t know if she cares about me, but you definitely care about her.” Julian’s face darkened. Chloe stopped crying and stepped in front of Julian. “How can you say that to him? Has he not been good enough to you? Without him, you wouldn’t even be in college!” To protect Julian, Chloe didn’t hesitate to drag up my painful past. Ignoring the stinging ache in my chest, I walked right past them. Chloe wanted to chase after me, but Julian held her back. “Forget it. She doesn’t appreciate your concern. Look at you, crying like a wet kitten.” I heard Chloe sniffle. Julian comforted her gently. “She’s just throwing a temper tantrum. We won’t actually break up. We’ll both always be here for you.” I let out a bitter laugh. The moment I got back to my room, I submitted my application for the study abroad exchange program. My academic advisor called me to confirm. “This exchange spot is only for your current major. You’re sure you don’t want to transfer to Geology anymore, right?” Thinking of Julian’s smug confidence, I replied without a second of hesitation, “Yes, I’m sure.” The next morning, Chloe texted me: [Avery, I was too harsh yesterday. Don’t take it to heart.] [Julian said you’re in a bad mood. Let’s go hiking this weekend to clear your head! You love hiking, right?] In my past life, I had only lied about loving hiking because I wanted to accompany them on their field trips. Just as I was about to reject her, Julian called, his tone helpless. “Just say yes, Avery. Otherwise, she’s going to keep waiting outside your dorm.” “My leg is injured. I can’t hike,” I said coldly, then hung up. But they actually showed up at my dorm anyway, blocking my way. Julian’s tone left no room for argument. “It’s a short trail, and there’s a cable car at the top. It won’t affect your leg.” I was practically forced into the car between the two of them. There were other classmates in the car. On the way, the two of them chatted excitedly with the others, while I sat there like an outcast. When we got out, Julian naturally reached for my backpack. “I want mine carried too!” Chloe chimed in, showing no hesitation in her intimacy with Julian. Julian smoothly took her bag as well. It was only when we started climbing that I realized this was actually Chloe’s geology field project. I was just a tag-along.

Halfway up, my leg started throbbing with a dull, burning pain. “I’m stopping.” Chloe gave me an annoyed look, said nothing, and kept climbing. Julian’s patience was wearing thin. “Didn’t I already carry your bag for you?” Someone else in the group rolled their eyes as they passed me. “Sighing after just a few steps? Why did a newbie even come along?” I threw my hiking pole aside and started walking back down. Julian blocked me, clearly irritated. “It’s dangerous to go down alone. Just keep going up, the cable car station is right ahead.” We walked for what felt like hours. The sky turned pitch black, but there was still no sign of the cable car. My leg was shaking from the pain. I asked again, “Where is the cable car?” This time, the entire group fell silent. Chloe’s voice trembled. “We took the wrong trail.” I looked at Julian in disbelief. He pressed his lips together, silent. Someone called search and rescue. But since our location was unclear, they couldn’t give us an estimated arrival time. Fear began to spread. I whispered, “Julian, my leg really hurts.” Before he could speak, someone snapped. “Can you stop complaining? If you’re sick, why did you even join our project? You just wanted to hitch a ride on Julian’s coattails for credits, didn’t you?” Others chimed in. “His actual girlfriend is right here, how is she not embarrassed?” Looking at Chloe’s shifting gaze, I finally understood. In their eyes, Julian and Chloe were the couple, and I was just the shameless third wheel. Sweating from the sheer agony in my leg, I slid to the ground, too exhausted to explain. Julian finally barked at them, “Everyone calm down! Don’t take your anger out on her.” After handing me an emergency painkiller, Julian knelt in front of me. “I’ll carry you back down the way we came.” But Chloe suddenly whimpered, “Julian, I’m scared of the dark.” Julian froze. “We have flashlights.” She clutched his sleeve. “I’m still scared without you.” Someone spoke up. “Julian, you should take Chloe down first. She’s fragile.” Others agreed. “Yeah, and Chloe’s project is really important.” In the pitch black, every sound was amplified. I could hear my own racing heartbeat, the mockery in their voices, and Julian’s heavy sigh as he stood up after a moment of hesitation. “Wait here for the rescue team. I’ll take Chloe down first and then come back for you.” I reached out, my hand trembling as I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t go, Julian. I really can’t wait.” But Julian coldly peeled my fingers off. “Your leg isn’t that bad, Avery. The painkiller will kick in soon.” The sound of Julian’s footsteps fading as he carried Chloe down the mountain echoed in the dark. I sat on the cold dirt, completely hollowed out. The mountain wind was freezing, biting against my tear-stained face. I don’t know how long I waited, but right before I passed out, the rescue team finally reached me. When Julian finally arrived at the hospital, he was met with the tense, awkward faces of his teammates. The bright red “IN SURGERY” light above the door made his chest tighten. What was happening? Why was Avery in surgery?

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Before the engagement rehearsal, I saw a Snapchat group chat on Julian Carter’s iPad. It was a group chat with his childhood bros. Someone had posted a picture of a handwritten scorecard titled: The Marriage Checklist. Under my name, Sera Miller, there was a long list of calculated pluses: Stable job +10, Sweet temper, no drama +10, Great at taking care of people +10… Under another girl’s name, there were only a few messy lines: Hot and exciting +10, High-maintenance, too proud -10, But thrilling to be with +20. One of his friends asked: “So, you’ve really decided?” Julian’s reply was cold, rational, and sober: “Yeah. Scarlett is the one who makes my heart race, but she’s too wild. Great for dating, but exhausting for marriage.” “I’m going with Sera. She’s safe. She’s the perfect wife material.” Staring at the words “perfect wife material,” my eyes burned. I had always thought our seven-year relationship was a natural progression of deep, mutual love. It turned out that in his eyes, I was just a low-risk, cost-effective compromise. If that was the case, I was out.

“Miss Miller, could you and Mr. Carter run through the ring exchange one more time?” The wedding coordinator’s voice echoed through the grand ballroom. Today was our engagement party rehearsal. Julian stood under the arch of white roses, looking breathtakingly handsome in his tailored suit. He smiled and stretched his hand out to me with deep affection. I stared at his hand, feeling a sudden wave of detachment. The absurdity of that scorecard was like a jagged piece of glass stuck in my throat. I couldn’t swallow it, and I couldn’t spit it out. “Sera? What’s wrong? Your hand is freezing.” Julian walked over, wrapping his warm hand around mine while handing me a cup of warm water. “Are you tired from standing all morning? Just hang in there, babe. We’re almost done.” Even his comforting tone was flawless, polished to perfection. Just as I was about to pull my hand away, the heavy oak doors of the ballroom were pushed open with a loud thud. “Julian! Is this really your taste? All these champagne roses? It’s so tacky.” A red dress. Voluminous curls. Bold, radiant, and loud. It was Scarlett Davis. The toxic ex who had scored a “Hot and exciting +10” on his list. She strolled in, arm-in-arm with Julian’s best friend, Zach Brooks. I felt Julian’s hand instantly stiffen around mine. A second later, he subconsciously let go of me. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes were glued to Scarlett. I saw his throat tighten as he swallowed hard. Scarlett walked straight to the VIP table, her eyes scanning the place cards. She stopped right in front of the gold-embossed card that read: [Fiancée: Seraphina Miller] and let out a soft laugh. Then, with a flick of her manicured finger, she swiped it. My name card fell to the floor, rolling right to the tip of Julian’s leather shoe. “Oops. My hand slipped.” Scarlett covered her mouth, her eyes dripping with pure, undisguised provocation. “Sera is too mature and sweet to care about a little accident, right?” The coordinator and the staff looked at each other in awkward silence. Even Zach cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. Julian finally snapped out of his trance. But instead of getting angry, he bent down and personally picked up my fallen card for Scarlett. There was no blame in his eyes when he looked at her. In fact, there was a faint, hidden indulgence. After placing the card back on the table, Julian turned to me. “Sera.” His voice was gentle, carrying his usual tone of calm manipulation. “Today is a happy day. Let’s not make a scene. You’ve always had a great temper. Don’t stoop to her level.” To placate me, he patted my shoulder and whispered, “She’s just a spoiled brat. Ignore her.” My shoulder flinched under his touch. A cold chill ran from my toes straight to my chest. Great temper. At this moment, the “Sweet temper, no drama +10” from yesterday’s scorecard turned into a physical slap in the face. Because I was the sensible one, I didn’t even have the right to be angry. Because I was “wife material,” I was expected to smile and swallow every humiliation. I looked down at the name card he had put back. “Julian,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “She’s spoiled. But who spoiled her in the first place?”

The air in the room froze. Zach immediately jumped in, trying to laugh it off. “Come on, Sera! Who else? Us! We all grew up together. Scarlett is like a little sister to all of us. Don’t overthink it!” Julian visibly relaxed, using the opportunity to wrap his arm around my shoulders. “Exactly. We’re all friends here. Come on, let’s go grab lunch.” I was half-shoved, half-guided into the private dining room. During the post-rehearsal lunch, the atmosphere was so wild it felt like Scarlett was the actual bride-to-be. After a few rounds of drinks, the guys started getting loud. Zach raised his glass and laughed. “Julian, you’re a lucky bastard! Girls like Sera are a dying breed. She’s pure tradwife energy. You could stay out partying until 3 AM, and she wouldn’t even track your location.” The table roared with laughter. Julian leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs, and smiled. “Of course. Sera is the most sensible girl I know.” Sensible. Low-maintenance. These labels were branded onto me, serving as badges of honor for him to brag about at the bar. Right then, Scarlett, who was sitting on Julian’s other side, suddenly leaned her head onto his shoulder, smelling of alcohol. “Julian…” Her voice cracked, her eyes pooling with tears. “I’m so stressed out. My design studio is completely out of cash. I can’t even pay my employees next month. I think I have to close it down.” The smug composure on Julian’s face vanished instantly. He didn’t push Scarlett away. Instead, his body naturally leaned toward her, his forehead creasing with deep concern. “How much do you need? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “A lot…” Scarlett bit her lip, looking utterly helpless. Without a second thought, Julian spoke up. “The Aurora Project we’re signing next week—I’ll outsource the entire core design work to your studio. It’s a guaranteed money-maker. The advance payment will easily cover your deficit.” My hand tightened around my water glass so hard it almost shattered. The Aurora Project? That was the project my team had pulled three all-nighters for, researching for an entire month to secure. Only yesterday, Julian had promised me that I would lead and execute it. “Julian, the Aurora Project is my project,” I said, my voice tight. The laughter at the table died instantly. Julian turned to look at me, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Sera, your position at your firm is already stable. You don’t need this single project to prove yourself.” He dismissed all my hard work with a wave of his hand, speaking as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “Scarlett is facing bankruptcy. This project is a lifesaver for her.” Seeing my silence, Julian softened his voice, sighing. “We’re getting married soon, Sera. What’s mine is yours. It’s just business. Why be so petty? Be the bigger person.” I stared at the man I had loved for seven years. A wave of intense nausea hit me. So, my efforts didn’t deserve respect, and my hard work could be stolen at any time, simply because I was “stable.” Watching him whisper comfortingly to Scarlett, my stomach churned with pure disgust. He was absolutely repulsive.

I don’t even remember how that lunch ended. That night, Julian’s mother, Eleanor Carter, called me to the living room and threw a thick prenup onto the coffee table. All of the Carter family’s real estate, stocks, and savings had nothing to do with me. After marriage, our living expenses would be split 50/50. It even explicitly stated that I would be responsible for all household chores and must take a full-time leave to prepare for pregnancy in the first year. This wasn’t a prenup. This was a slave contract for a zero-salary, 24/7 live-in maid who could be kicked out with nothing at any second. I raised my eyes to look at Julian, who was sitting next to his mother. He was slowly peeling an orange. Seeing that I hadn’t picked up the pen, he leaned over and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Sera, just sign it,” he said in a tone you’d use to coax a stubborn child. “My mom is old-school. She just wants peace of mind. Besides, we’re getting married to build a stable life. What’s mine is yours anyway. You’re not the type of girl who’s after my money, right?” He said it so smoothly. With the phrase “not after my money,” he easily locked me onto a moral pedestal, stripping away my rights while expecting me to thank him. I looked at his handsome, calculating face and suddenly smiled. “Okay.” I took the pen and signed “Seraphina Miller” on the signature line without a second thought. A flash of smug satisfaction crossed Julian’s eyes. He probably thought I loved him so much that I had completely lost my mind. Late that night, the only sound in the bedroom was the running water from the bathroom. I sat quietly on the edge of the bed, my eyes falling on his unlocked iPad. The screen lit up with rapid notifications from his Snapchat group. Julian had sent a voice note, which had been transcribed into clear text on the screen: “Prenup is signed. She didn’t even read it. We’re set, boys. Once she’s a housewife, I can focus entirely on expanding the business.” Below was a string of replies: “Congrats, Julian! You just secured a perfect, low-maintenance back-up!” Then, Scarlett’s profile popped up. She posted a selfie with teary eyes, captioned: “Congratulations on the wedding. Wish you a lifetime of happiness.” Almost instantly, Julian replied: “Stop it. You know you’re the only one I can’t let go of.” “The only one I can’t let go of.” I stared at those words. My chest ached with a suffocating tightness, but miraculously, I couldn’t shed a single tear. It was amazing how cruel a person could be when they were busy calculating their own interests. He handed me the “safety” of a marriage contract as if it were charity, turning me into his free maid, while dedicating all his passion, career opportunities, and love to the woman who actually made his heart race. When you reach the absolute bottom of despair, only pure, cold clarity remains. I turned off the iPad, walked out to the balcony, and called my college friend who was now a top attorney. “Chloe, I need you to draft an official cancellation of engagement and a complete financial split sheet. I need it tonight.” Half an hour later, the printer in the study buzzed softly, spitting out several warm sheets of paper. Listening to the shower shutting off in the bathroom, I slowly smoothed out the creases on the documents. Julian, you wanted a perfect, brainless tool of a wife. Too bad. I’m canceling my subscription.

The engagement party was held at the Peninsula, the most luxurious hotel downtown. The ballroom lights dimmed, leaving only a single spotlight shining on Julian standing under the floral arch. Dressed in a designer tuxedo, he looked tall and striking. Holding a velvet box with a two-carat diamond ring, he walked toward me step by step. Around us, the guests erupted into envious whispers and thunderous applause. But my gaze drifted past his shoulder, landing on the VIP table in the front row. Scarlett was sitting there. Today, she wore a simple white floral dress. Her eyes were red, her lips pale, looking as fragile as a falling leaf. Julian stopped in front of me, and the emcee handed him the microphone. “Mr. Carter, please share your vows with your beautiful fiancée.” The room fell dead silent. Julian held the mic, his lips parting, but his eyes automatically drifted toward Scarlett. In that split second, a flash of genuine pain and longing crossed his face. “Sera, we’ve been together for seven years…” He started, but his voice suddenly choked up. A heavy, five-second silence stretched across the room. The air in the ballroom seemed to turn to ice. He stared at Scarlett’s tear-stained face, completely losing his train of thought, even forgetting to open the ring box in his hand. It wasn’t until Eleanor let out a loud, sharp cough from the front row that Julian snapped out of it. He quickly turned his head back to me, forcing a warm, practiced smile, and recited his prepared lines: “Sera, I love you. Will you marry me and be my solid rock?” The emcee quickly tried to hype up the crowd. “Come on, bride! Say yes!” Everyone looked at me, smiling expectantly. I looked at Julian, staring at his fake, hollow devotion, and slowly raised my microphone. “I won’t.” Those two words, amplified by the high-end sound system, echoed clearly into every single corner of the grand ballroom. The applause that was starting to build froze instantly. The smile on Julian’s face cracked. He lowered his voice, his tone sharp with warning and annoyance. “Sera, stop playing games. Do you know what day it is?” “Of course I know what day it is.” I let out a cold laugh, pulled a small remote control from my clutch, and pointed it at the giant LED screen behind us. The romantic video of our seven-year journey cut out instantly. In its place, a massive screenshot of Julian’s Snapchat checklist titled “Who to Marry” filled the screen, followed by the insulting prenup, and his text saying I was just a “low-maintenance back-up.” The crowd erupted into a frenzy of gasps and shocked whispers. Julian’s face went dead pale. He lunged toward the control panel to shut it off, but my brother and cousins blocked him instantly. “Are you out of your mind, Sera?!” Julian roared, his eyes wide with fury and shock. “Julian, thank you for the 98-score you gave me,” I said, my voice incredibly calm. “I have a stable job, a sweet temper, I don’t want your money, and I do all the chores. In your eyes, I really was the ultimate deal.” I curled my lips into a mocking smile. “But I suddenly realized that being a highly cost-effective maid is incredibly boring.” With that, I slid the engagement ring off my finger and tossed it casually onto the floor. “You—” Julian was shaking with rage, reaching out to grab my arm. I stepped back, pulled the printed cancellation of engagement and the ripped prenup from my bag, and threw them right into his face. “Julian, keep your cheap, manipulative love for someone else.” Looking at his crumbling expression, I said coldly: “We’re done.”

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My best friend went through my boyfriend’s trash can and found a condom. After she got pregnant and had the baby, she went to my boyfriend and demanded child support. I refused. So my best friend cried, screamed, and threatened to die, demanding that my boyfriend marry her. My boyfriend refused without hesitation and denied the child was his. In the end, my best friend snapped, stabbed me to death with a knife, and dumped me in the mountains to be eaten by wild dogs. But when I opened my eyes again, I had gone back to the day my best friend stole the condom. This time, I filled the condom with hot sauce. “Is your boyfriend’s house huge? I’ve never been there before, so let me take a look around!” The pain in my body had not completely faded yet, but my best friend Sophie’s big face was already close to mine as she grabbed my sleeves with both hands and kept acting cute. “Just let me go! You two are so close and you’ve been dating for so long, so it only makes sense for me, your best friend, to help you check him out!” I took a breath and pushed her away while holding back the urge to slap her. “No way!” But Sophie froze for a moment, and after seeing me refuse, she loudly scolded me. “What do you mean? Did you forget about me as soon as you landed a rich man? Isn’t it only right for me to meet your boyfriend? If you don’t agree, our friendship is over!” In my last life, she threatened to cut me off after seeing that I would not agree, and out of helplessness, I agreed to Sophie’s request. But I never imagined that my best friend would not only set her eyes on my boyfriend, but also on my boyfriend’s trash can! She made up an excuse to send me away, secretly went through the trash can, found contraception, and stole it! Not long after, she got pregnant. I was completely in the dark and deeply shocked, and I asked her several times who the baby’s father was and why he refused to take responsibility. But she denied it to me and even said that once I found out who the baby’s father was, I would definitely praise her for being lucky. There was nothing I could do. Sophie was pregnant while unmarried, had a massive falling-out with her family, and because of her strange personality, I was her only friend. So from the day she got pregnant, through childbirth and postpartum recovery, I was never absent for a single day. But just when I was working without complaint and waiting for her child to grow up obediently and call me godmother, Sophie carried the child and went to my boyfriend first. I did not believe it, and my boyfriend denied it with all his might. But Sophie threw the paternity test in my face! That shocked both of us! Later, after going through all the surveillance footage in the apartment, we discovered that she had secretly gone through my boyfriend’s trash can! Faced with Sophie’s threat, my boyfriend and I stood together and refused to let her in. But Sophie became embarrassed, flew into a rage, broke down, and posted everything online. But we had already released a statement, and those netizens did not side with her at all! So she took the child by herself, cornered and desperate, ambushed me at my boyfriend’s house, stabbed me to death, and dumped me in the mountains to be eaten by wild dogs! If the stab wounds on my body were not still faintly aching, I would never have dared to imagine that the best friend I had worked so hard to take care of, and the godson I had prayed for, had actually been stolen by my best friend from my boyfriend! “I’m begging you, just let me take a look! I’ve never been inside a mansion in my life!” Sophie kept pestering me and tugging at me, refusing to give up. Seeing that she would not stop until she went to my boyfriend’s house, I smiled and nodded. “Sure, but you have to wait for me for a bit. Sophie froze after hearing me agree, then quickly started dancing with joy. “No problem. As long as I can go in, I’m willing to wait as long as it takes!” She was overjoyed, as if she would get pregnant with my boyfriend’s child in the very next second! I immediately took a cab home, found the condom in the trash can, and went to the kitchen. Then I squeezed hot sauce into it with all my strength. This time, I wanted to see how she would get pregnant!

After I finished doing that, I quickly checked the other places. After making sure nothing had been missed, I sent my location to Sophie. In less than half an hour, she rushed to my house in a whirlwind. The moment she saw my home, her eyes lit up, and her gaze kept darting toward my bedroom. “Chloe, where’s your bedroom? My period suddenly came, so can I change clothes here?” I took in her little movements and pointed toward the bedroom. She immediately went in with her bag, and soon came out after changing clothes. “I can’t take it anymore, Chloe. My stomach hurts so badly. I think I should go home!” “Okay!” I coldly ignored the little movement of her clutching her bag and saw her out. But not long after she left my house, Sophie’s call came through on my phone. “Chloe, can you come to the hospital? I don’t have any family around me. I only have you.” “Oh, what happened to you? I’m with my boyfriend right now, so I can’t get away.” I deliberately mentioned my boyfriend and successfully heard a trace of hatred enter Sophie’s voice. “Come here right now! If you don’t come, our friendship is over!” After saying that, she quickly hung up. I slowly got up from my boyfriend’s arms as well, had a meal, and only then headed to the hospital. After all, no one knew better than me what Sophie had done. It seemed she was ruthless enough, since she actually dared to put the hot sauce inside. As soon as I entered, Sophie grabbed the cup on the table and threw it at me, but I dodged it lightly. “Why didn’t you wait until I was dead before coming? What use do I have for a friend like you?” “Then I’ll leave.” I did not hesitate and turned around to leave right away. Almost instantly, Sophie’s tone softened. “Come back. I still need you…” The doctor also rushed over, pulling me aside and saying that Sophie had been in so much pain that she was brought to the hospital, but for some reason, she refused to clean herself out. I smiled and knowingly asked, “What thing?” “There’s nothing. I just accidentally… It’s nothing serious. Help me pay the medical bill and then leave.” “She stuffed hot sauce inside herself, and even after getting painkillers, she still refuses to clean it out. I really don’t know what she’s thinking!” Before the doctor could finish speaking, Sophie suddenly sat up and pointed at his nose, cursing. “What do you people know? I’m doing this all for my future!” “I’m telling you, if I get pregnant, all of you will think I’m lucky!” After she finished speaking, she ignored all attempts to stop her and limped out of bed. There was no helping it, since she insisted on being discharged, so her bill had to be paid first. But Sophie had no money, and with both hands spread, she looked at me. In my last life, I would have obediently paid after seeing that, but this life was different. I pretended to make a phone call and walked out, leaving her where she was. “You pay first, and I’ll drive over to pick you up.” After saying that, I left without looking back. I left her alone there, raging uselessly. “Chloe, come back right now! I don’t have any money on me!”

After I hung up on Sophie’s tenth call asking to borrow money and waited outside for half an hour, she walked out with both legs trembling. When she saw that I was riding an electric bike, she completely lost it. “You bitch! You keep all the good things for yourself, don’t you? Where’s your car? Why didn’t you drive?” “Are you jealous that I’m pregnant and have a child? I’m telling you, that’s impossible! I’m determined to give birth to this child just to prove myself!” On the street, her crazed accusations successfully made the passing pedestrians look at me with a trace of contempt. But I turned a deaf ear to it and only felt that she was lost in a fantasy. Who gave her the courage to not only steal contraception to get pregnant, but also dare to order me around like a servant? “Then go find the baby’s father. Since you’re so lucky anyway, you definitely don’t need me.” After saying that, I rode off on the bike and vanished in a flash. But when I got home that night and had just opened a short video app, I saw a local news story about a woman who stuffed hot sauce inside herself, fainted by the roadside, and was sent to the hospital for treatment. Many netizens sighed about how bizarre this woman was, and I was the only one who found it funny. So what if she was unwilling to clean herself out? Didn’t she still end up being sent to the hospital and cleaned out properly anyway? She wanted to get pregnant and rise in status through the child? Maybe in her next life! Just when I thought she could not get pregnant in this life, she appeared at my front door the next day. As soon as I opened the door, she rushed into my house, hugged the sofa, and refused to leave. “God damn it! This is all your fault! You caused me to miscarry and lose my child! I’m telling you now, either you compensate me with a child, or you give me five million dollars!” Listening to Sophie’s self-righteous words, I laughed from anger. “Then where’s your pregnancy certificate? Who’s the baby’s father?” When she heard me question her, a moment of panic flashed across her face. “What do you care who the baby’s father is? Anyway, it was you. You deliberately smeared hot sauce on my pants and made me miscarry…” “I don’t care! I just want you to take responsibility! If it weren’t for you, I would have married into a wealthy family!” Seeing that she was determined to stay in my home, I took out her medical record from the hospital. This was something I had expected in advance and photographed at the hospital. “The physical examination report clearly says that you stuffed a foreign object with hot sauce into your own body! How did it become someone else’s child?” But the current Sophie had already become shameless to the extreme. “What do you know? I originally could have gotten pregnant. If your clothes hadn’t harmed me, how could I have miscarried?” After saying that, she tried desperately to scratch me. But my boyfriend stopped her quickly with sharp eyes and fast hands. “Where did this lunatic come from? Get out!” My boyfriend opened his mouth and drove her away, but Sophie acted as if she had grabbed a lifesaving straw. “Haven’t you seen her true colors yet? This bitch is jealous that I have a child and wants to kill me!” Even though I had lived one life over, hearing these words again still made me burn with rage. “ What kind of insanity are you spewing? He’s clearly my boyfriend!” But at that moment, Sophie could no longer hear anything. In the end, I could only call the police and have this lunatic thrown out.

Even though Sophie failed to take my place this time, she did not give up. After completely tearing off all pretense with me, she still pestered me every day. That day, when I went out to throw away the trash, I actually saw a sneaky figure beside the trash can! I hid to the side and finally saw clearly that the shadowy figure was actually Sophie! She sneakily tore open the trash I had just thrown away, seemingly searching for something! Finally, when she saw a tied-up bag, she held it up like a treasure, and her eyes instantly lit up! I finally understood her purpose, stepped forward, snatched the bag from her hands, and threw it on the ground. “What are you doing?” When Sophie saw me ruin her plan, she became furious in an instant and stared at the liquid on the ground with a distressed expression. “It’s all your fault! You made me miscarry! So what if I survive by picking through trash? Is even that not allowed?” She pointed at my nose and cursed, still thinking I was too stupid to understand what she was trying to do! “If you want to pick through trash, go do it somewhere else. You are not welcome here!” Thinking about how she had gone through our trash bags like this before, I broke out in a cold sweat! I absolutely could not let Sophie succeed again! “What right do you have to control me? Do you own this neighborhood? You won’t even let people pick through trash? There’s nowhere in the world with rules like that!” “You made me miscarry and refused to compensate me, so what’s wrong with me picking through rich people’s trash?” Seeing that Sophie had completely torn off all pretense and had no shame left, I smiled. “That’s fine. Go ahead and pick through it!” “I’d like to see what you can dig out from here every day while picking through garbage!” In the days that followed, I was strictly on guard. I either rushed to the trash can or added a little something inside. Several times in a row, Sophie snatched the trash bags from my hands and then looked as if she had eaten shit. After repeatedly hitting walls, she no longer squatted by our trash can every day. But I still did not dare relax my guard, and I kept an eye on Sophie at all times to avoid any accidents. But she shifted her target. The residents in this neighborhood were all either rich or powerful. If she got pregnant with anyone’s child, she could live the rest of her life with food and money guaranteed! So she went crazy and set her sights on the other trash cans. But I had already contacted the surrounding residents privately, and everyone knew exactly what kind of vile person Sophie was, so they had already taken precautions! Finally, after two months of gaining nothing and being treated like a mental patient, she broke down. After smashing things randomly at my door, she left my home. All of us let out a sigh of relief. My boyfriend and I fell deeply in love, and he also made our relationship public, admitted I was his fiancée, and chose a date for our engagement. I was ecstatic. At the engagement banquet, I looked at the boyfriend I loved deeply with tears in my eyes. Just as I was about to exchange engagement rings with my boyfriend, Sophie, whom I had not seen in a long time, suddenly barged in. Her loose clothing could no longer hide her pregnant belly, and smelling the aroma of the banquet dishes made her unable to stop retching! Seeing that my perfect engagement banquet had been disrupted by her, I called the security guards to step forward and stop her. Who knew she would sit down on the ground, throw down a stack of papers, and start throwing a tantrum. “God damn it! You scumbag, you actually abandoned me and our baby to get engaged! Are you even human?” “If you don’t give me an explanation today, I’ll smash my head and die right here, and I’ll let the whole city see exactly what kind of people your family is!” I sneered and did not care at all. But my mom, who was beside me, picked up the report with trembling hands and looked at me in terror. “Chloe, this paternity test actually shows a ninety-nine percent match…”

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