Category: English

1 Dating my childhood friend Jack, I drowned him in sweet nothings. Every time, his ears turned crimson. I was lost in our perfect romance until “Summer’s Simp Tapes” went viral. My voice, bright and sincere: “I love you.” Then Jack’s, laced with irritation: “If not for helping Ava, would I play this love game with Summer? Her ‘I love yous’ make me sick.” His blush was an act. Love could be faked. I made no scene, just filed transfer papers and vanished. A year later, Jack saw a viral video: two Ivy League freshmen confessing. A girl smiled. “I love you.” A boy blushed, his voice earnest: “I love you a hundred times more. More than yesterday, less than tomorrow.” The night I clinched the top rank in my grade again, an audio file titled “Summer’s Simp Tapes” was dropped into the class group chat. Seeing my name in the title, my stomach plummeted. My hand trembled as I clicked play. It opened with my own voice—the sound of me being playful, earnest, and full of light. “I love you.” And then, Jack’s voice, dripping with disdain. “If it wasn’t to help Ava get her top rank back, you think I’d waste my time playing this little love game with Summer? Listening to her ‘I love you, I love you’ crap all day makes me want to puke.” My hand clenched into a fist. My nails dug into my palm, a sharp, stinging pain. But I only squeezed tighter, as if the physical hurt could somehow numb the gaping wound in my heart. The group chat exploded. “Damn, Summer really was a simp. I heard her telling Jack ‘I love you’ like, a million times.” “LMAO. The ultimate simp story. She got played so hard.” “For real, I’ve never seen a girl so desperate. So cringe.” “Wait, but didn’t Jack ask her out first? (Don’t come for me, just saying!)” “Dude, everyone knows he only did it for Ava. Get Summer distracted, her grades slip, and bam—Ava’s back on top.” “I was always wondering how the new girl could possibly win against the childhood sweetheart. Turns out he was just a double agent, lmao.” “Team Ava and Jack forever! The new girl can see herself out.” “Ava was always number one before Summer transferred. I’d be pissed too if she just showed up and stole my spot.” “Ugh, Summer is so annoying! Always with the ‘You’re so cute!’ and ‘I love you so much!’ Who does she think she is, trying so hard to be this bubbly little ray of sunshine?” “Finally! I feel so validated. I’ve hated her for ages, and now everyone else sees it too.” … They were feasting on the drama, completely forgetting—or maybe not caring—that the main character of their gossip was right there in the chat. My presence was irrelevant. Ava and I were polar opposites. She was the class president, the perfect student, the girl everyone’s parents wanted their sons to date. I was the outgoing, cheerful one. I thought I got along with everyone. Today, I learned that was just a story I told myself. I silently left the group chat. But a sliver of foolish hope remained. I called Jack. I needed to hear it from him, to ask if the recording was true. Did he get close to me just for Ava? Did being with me really make him sick to his stomach? The phone rang for a long time before he picked up. The background was loud, filled with music and chatter. Jack’s deep voice rumbled through the speaker. “Summer?” I hesitated for a second. “Aren’t you supposed to be at home, resting?” Before he could answer, a girl’s clear voice called out from nearby. “Jack, come on! It’s your turn!” I recognized it instantly. It was Ava. Jack spoke quickly into the phone. “Hey, Summer, something just came up. Can we talk at school tomorrow? Be good.” He hung up before I could say a word. The line went dead, replaced by the monotonous dial tone. I stood there, clutching my phone, a bitter, acidic feeling rising in my throat. My mind was a chaotic storm. Just then, my screen lit up with a notification. It was a video from Ava. The scene was a dimly lit private room at a karaoke bar, the lights casting a hazy, intimate glow. Ava and Jack were playing a game, passing a bottle cap between their lips. A single die was balanced precariously on top of it. Ava’s cheeks were flushed, her cherry-red lips holding the cap as she looked up at Jack with wide, glistening eyes, like a kitten waiting for a treat. Jack smirked. “What genius came up with this game? Mouth-to-mouth bottle cap transfer? And the die can’t fall?” The people around them thought he was backing out and started jeering, teasing him about being scared to play. Ava’s hopeful expression faltered, the light in her eyes dimming. The next second, Jack leaned in. He didn’t just take the cap; he plucked it from her lips, tossed it aside, and then pressed his mouth to hers in a deep, lingering kiss. A handsome boy and a beautiful girl, lost in a passionate embrace. It was a picture-perfect, romantic moment. The onlookers were stunned for a beat, then erupted into deafening cheers and whistles. When the kiss ended, Jack glanced at the cap on the floor and chuckled, a lazy, roguish grin on his face. “Oops. The die fell.” He threw his hands up in mock surrender. “I lose.” The video ended there. A few more texts from Ava popped up. “Summer, congrats on getting first place again.” “But oops, so sorry.” “I heard you asked Jack out for sushi after school, and he said no?” “That’s because he’s with me. I bombed my exams, you know. I’m the one who needs comforting, right?” “You don’t mind if I borrow your boyfriend for the night, do you?” I stared at the provocative messages and let out a hollow laugh. Perfect. All the questions that had been swirling in my head now had their answers. I had asked Jack to get sushi after school today. I was still buzzing from my exam results, practically bouncing as I walked. “That place has been open for six months and it’s always packed! I’ve been dying to try it.” Jack had his hands shoved in his pockets, his mood clearly sour. He even looked annoyed. “It’s just first place. Why are you so happy?” I tilted my head, looking at him with wide eyes. “Of course I’m happy! Northwood is one of the top four schools in the state. Nailing the top spot twice in a row here? Isn’t that something to be happy about?” The dark cloud over his features only intensified. I finally registered that he wasn’t just in a bad mood; he was genuinely upset. Jack had scraped by with his usual barely-passing grades, but he never cared about school. It couldn’t be that. So why was he unhappy? Was it because I did too well? Was his pride wounded? Thinking that might be it, I took his hand, my voice sincere. “Grades aren’t everything. In my heart, you’re just Jack. Good grades or bad, I love you for who you are.” He ripped his hand away from mine, his voice dripping with venom. “Summer, do you ever get sick of hearing yourself say ‘I love you’ all the time? It’s fucking disgusting.” He sneered. “Honestly, you’re the clingiest person I’ve ever met.” I froze, stunned. A dull ache spread through my chest, mixed with utter confusion. I couldn’t figure out what I’d said wrong to make him lash out like that. Is telling someone you love them… clingy and disgusting? My parents were deeply in love. They always told me, “Sweetheart, love is meant to be expressed. Don’t hide it away. Never be afraid to tell the people you care about that you love them.” Was everything they taught me wrong? Seeing my dazed expression, a flicker of regret crossed Jack’s face. His voice softened. “Sorry, Summer. I’m just… I’m tired. I want to go home and rest. We can get sushi another time, okay?” I quickly forced a smile and waved my hand. “It’s okay, no problem.” But the boy who said he wanted to go home and rest was actually on his way to comfort his childhood sweetheart. It was only today that I finally understood. A blush isn’t always a sign of a fluttering heart. And love, it turns out, can be faked. I hid in the bathroom, turned the faucet on full blast, and sobbed until my chest ached and I felt light-headed. As I gasped for air, memories of my time with Jack flooded my mind. A year ago, my dad’s company expanded, and I transferred to Northwood High. Jack was my desk mate. He slept through every class. The rumor was his family was loaded, so the teachers left him alone. As a seat partner, he wasn’t bad. He was quiet when he slept, sometimes with his face buried in his arms, other times turned towards me. The early morning sun would filter through the window, tracing the sharp, sculpted lines of his face. His eyelashes were long, his nose straight and strong, his lips thin. I’d rest my chin on my hand and just… stare. God, he’s ridiculously handsome, I’d think. One day, he opened his eyes without warning. Our gazes locked. I froze, but he just smiled. It was the first thing he ever said to me. “Like what you see?” My heart hammered against my ribs. My face went hot, and I immediately looked down, pretending to be engrossed in my textbook. After that, Jack pursued me relentlessly. Soon, we were together. He was my first boyfriend, my first real crush. I took our relationship seriously. And to be fair, he played the part of a perfect boyfriend flawlessly. He showered me with gifts, planned surprises, and created romantic moments. His study was a fortress even his parents weren’t allowed in, but he gave me free rein. When I had cramps and craved wontons from a little shop on the south side of the city, he’d brave the freezing winter night, racing across town on his motorcycle just to bring me a warm bowl. … Each memory was like a sugar-coated pill of poison. The last of my hope died. I composed myself, splashed my face with cold water, and knocked on my dad’s study door. Even though I’d held an ice pack to my eyes for what felt like an eternity, he knew instantly. “Sweetheart, were you crying? What happened?” I looked down at my feet. “Dad, I don’t want to go to Northwood anymore. The pressure is just… it’s too much. I want to transfer.” He agreed without a second thought, ruffling my hair with his big, gentle hand. “Okay. Wherever you want to go, sweetheart.” He said softly, “Just do your best in school. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. Even if the sky falls, Dad will be here to hold it up for you, you know that?” His warmth and concern made my nose tingle, and I had to fight back a fresh wave of tears. When Mom heard I wanted to transfer, she didn’t ask why. She just supported my decision unconditionally. That night, before I went to sleep, she slipped into my bed, saying she wanted to keep me company. I curled up in her arms, breathing in her familiar, comforting scent. I thought I’d be up all night, but I fell asleep almost instantly. The next day, Dad went to the school to handle the transfer paperwork. I was going to go with him, but he stopped me and pressed a credit card into my hand. “I’ve got this. You go have some fun. Go shopping, buy whatever you want. Don’t you dare try to save me money.” I bought a few blind boxes and ended up in a bookstore. My favorite author had a new book out, and they had one last copy. Just as I reached for it, a delighted voice came from behind me. “Jack, look! They still have one!” Without hesitating, I grabbed the book. I turned to face Jack and Ava. Standing together, they looked like a perfect couple, straight out of a magazine. Jack looked surprised to see me. “Summer? Why aren’t you in class?” I ignored him and started walking towards the cashier. Ava rushed to block my path, her hand grabbing my arm. Her expression was pitiful, her voice a soft plea. “Summer, could you please let me have this book? I’ll pay you ten times the price for it. I’ve been to every bookstore in the city today, and it’s sold out everywhere. This is the last one.” “Sorry,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m not short on cash.” Ava’s face went pale. She looked humiliated, and her eyes welled up with tears. Jack frowned at me. “It’s Ava’s birthday today. Just be the bigger person and let her have it. They’ll restock it in a few days.” I couldn’t help but retort, “Then why can’t Ava wait a few days? I got to it first. First come, first served. What’s the problem?” Jack’s face turned to stone, his eyes icing over. “Are you really this petty? Do you have to be jealous of everything? Is it really worth it, Summer?” His tone was mocking. “Honestly, are you even a fan of this author? Or are you just doing this because Ava likes them, trying to get under her skin?” Behind him, Ava shot me a triumphant little smile. I looked straight at Jack, my gaze unwavering. “So that’s how you see me.” Maybe it was the seriousness in my eyes, but for a split second, he looked flustered. He quickly regained his composure, his expression softening as he tried to placate me. “Come on, Summer, don’t be like this. As soon as it’s back in stock, I’ll buy it for you first thing. Okay?” Suddenly, the whole thing felt utterly pointless. I shoved the book into his chest. “I don’t want it anymore,” I said, each word deliberate and clear. I don’t want to like you anymore, Jack. From this day on, we are strangers. The mountains will stand silent, and the fields will stretch on, indifferent. I didn’t want to risk running into them again, so I transferred to South Crest High in the neighboring city. It was just as prestigious as Northwood. I’ve always been adaptable, and I caught up with my new classes quickly. This time, I kept my head down, buried myself in my books, and avoided socializing. Then the mid-term rankings were posted. I’d accidentally landed in first place again. Students were clustered around the bulletin board, buzzing. “Whoa, am I seeing things? Did our academic king Leo actually drop to second place?” “You’re not blind. I see it too.” “Seriously, who is this Summer? I’ve never even heard of her.” “She’s in our class. Super pretty, but kind of cold. Doesn’t talk much.” “I think she’s the new transfer student. From Northwood High, I heard.” “Oh, from Northwood? Say no more.” “What’s that supposed to mean? Why are you hyping up another school?” “Well, looks like Leo’s got some real competition now. This is gonna be fun to watch, hehe.” They chattered excitedly, but my heart sank. Great. So South Crest had a reigning academic king, too.

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When I came back, the story was already almost over. The villain I’d raised with my own two hands, once a golden boy destined for greatness, had been broken by the story’s heroes, his fall from grace leaving him a cripple. I prodded Adrian Vance’s slumped form with the toe of my shoe, feigning indifference. “What’s this? The moment I’m gone, you let them beat you up this badly?” He snapped his head up, his eyes instantly flooding with tears. “Susie,” he choked out, his voice thick with unshed grief. “You weren’t here. They all hurt me.” I fell silent, my heart clenching. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to pull my hand away as he clung to it like a drowning man. But later that night, I stumbled upon a different scene entirely. I saw him, standing in the shadows of an alley, with the story’s hero pinned under his boot. “You idiot!” Adrian’s voice was a low snarl, nothing like the broken boy from before. “I told you to make it look fatal, not to actually hold back!” A pained groan came from the man on the ground. “If I don’t bleed enough, how is my dear Susie supposed to feel sorry for me?” 1 The sharp shatter of a glass echoed through the penthouse suite, mingling with ragged, wet gasps for air. Through the crack in the slightly ajar door, I saw him—a young man whose features were so exquisitely sharp they were almost unnerving. He was sprawled on a scarlet velvet sofa, his black shirt violently torn open, revealing the delicate line of his collarbone. His normally porcelain skin was flushed with an unnatural, feverish heat, his breaths coming in heavy pants. Crimson blood trickled from his wrist, a stark, winding river against his pale skin. “Adrian…” The moment I spoke his name, he froze. His blood-flecked eyelashes trembled, and when he swallowed, the movement pulled at the ugly, purple fingerprints blooming on his neck. He turned his head slowly, mechanically, as if terrified of waking from a beautiful dream. The second his eyes landed on me, Adrian’s pupils constricted. The raw fury on his face vanished, replaced by utter shock. “Susie?” That single, trembling word, thick with tears, sent a blade of agony straight through my heart. It was the same sound he’d made five years ago, when I was forced to leave this world. He’d wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck, his small body wracked with sobs. “Is Susie going to throw me away, too?” Now, he staggered to his feet, only to collapse heavily onto the carpet of shattered glass. I instinctively rushed forward, but he scrambled back into the corner of the sofa, dissolving into a fit of violent coughs. Dark red liquid dripped through his fingers. He tried to hide his hand, his sweat-soaked hair clinging to his pale face. He looked like a broken porcelain doll. “Dirty…” he rasped. “I’ll get you dirty.” “Who did this?” I knelt, hearing my own voice tremble. In the original novel, his right-hand injury was just a passing mention. But the wound before me was a horrific gash of peeled-back flesh, deep enough to show the bone beneath. He suddenly let out a low chuckle. His thin shoulder blades fluttered with the sound, like the wings of a broken butterfly. “Susie, when you’re not here, everyone bullies me.” He tilted his face up, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. “I listened to you. I tried to be good, I really did. So why… why are they still doing this to me?” His voice cracked. “They said you abandoned me. That an unwanted kid like me deserves whatever happens to him.” My heart seized. In the original story, Adrian Vance was a cruel, possessive, and dangerously unstable villain. He and the hero, Eric Cole, had grown up together in the same orphanage, once the best of friends. But through a twist of fate, Eric was adopted by a wealthy couple in Adrian’s place, whisked away to a life of privilege. Adrian, however, was adopted by a vile predator hiding behind a respectable facade. After suffering unspeakable abuse, he escaped and lived on the streets. He grew to believe Eric had stolen the life that was meant to be his, and he became the villain who antagonized the hero at every turn. When I was first pulled into this book, I found sixteen-year-old Adrian and took him in. My mission was to save him from his bleak fate, to rewrite his ending. Once my mission was complete, the System that brought me here forced me to leave. Until last night, when it contacted me again. It told me that Adrian’s world was on the verge of collapse because a key character had gone off the rails. It needed me to go back and fix it. But I didn’t understand. Under my guidance, Adrian had become a model student, a kind and brilliant young man. Why hadn’t the plot changed? He was still cornered by the heroes, beaten down, and nearly broken. To make matters worse, the System had gone silent. No matter how much I called out, it wouldn’t respond. What the hell was going on? According to the original plot, tonight was the night he’d be drugged and finally snap, embracing his dark side completely. But the boy in front of me, his eyes filled with nothing but confusion and helplessness, was still the same little stray cat I’d taken in off the streets. Before I could think any further, Adrian’s suppressed sobs, like those of a caged animal, pulled me back to reality. My resolve shattered. Overwhelmed with a fierce, aching tenderness, I pulled him into my arms. “I didn’t abandon you,” I whispered into his hair. “I’m back now.” “Then… will you help me?” His eyes suddenly lit up, and he pressed his damp forehead into the crook of my shoulder, nuzzling against me. “What do you need me to do?” I heard the rasp in my own voice. “It’s so hot.” A soft, kitten-like whimper escaped his throat as he guided my hand to his body. A trail of desperate kisses landed on the side of my neck. My breath hitched— My palm was suddenly pressed against a searing heat. I flinched back, but his hand clamped around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer, his body flush against mine. “Susie,” he breathed, his voice a raw plea. 2 The next morning, I woke up feeling like every joint in my body had been pulled apart. My wrist ached so much I could barely get dressed. The doorbell rang several times before I managed to drag myself to the door, leaning against the wall for support. “Adrian…” I mumbled, assuming he was back. But the face on the other side of the door was a stranger. “Can I help you?” “Hello,” the man said. His coat was expensive, his posture impeccable. “My name is Eric Cole. If I’m not mistaken, you’re Susie, Adrian’s sister. Is that right?” It took me a second to place the name. Eric Cole. The hero. “What do you want?” My voice was instantly laced with hostility. Eric seemed taken aback, a flicker of hurt crossing his handsome features. “I just came to warn you. Adrian isn’t as harmless as he looks.” He stepped inside. “It’s all an act he puts on for you. Especially after you disappeared five years ago. He went… unhinged. He did some truly terrible things.” On the coffee table, Eric pushed a manila folder toward me. “This is the proof of how he’s been targeting my company for years. Just last week, he orchestrated a hostile takeover of three of my subsidiaries. Those news reports about his fall from grace, about him being chronically ill? That’s all carefully crafted PR he spread himself.” His voice grew urgent. “The truth is, I’m not the one bullying him. He’s the one who won’t let me go.” The pages were filled with dense columns of data and figures. I set my teacup down on the table with a sharp clack. “Mr. Cole, I think you should leave.” My voice was cold. “With your resources, faking these documents would be easy. Regardless of what you show me, I’ll only trust what I see with my own eyes.” Eric stood up, his gaze intense. “Susie, he’s playing you.” I frowned. “I’m not your sister. Please don’t call me that.” Eric’s mouth opened, then closed. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice strained. “I got ahead of myself. I’m not trying to cause trouble, I swear. I’m just worried about your safety. Adrian’s mental state is incredibly unstable. He’s even been known to self-harm.” I snatched the folder and threw it at his chest. “Are you trying to tell me he drugged himself? That he cut himself up like that?” My voice rose, shaking with fury. “Eric Cole, let me tell you something! If you dare touch Adrian again, I will drag you to hell myself!” A look of genuine confusion crossed his face. “I swear, I didn’t do anything. If you don’t believe me, you can verify all of this yourself. I’m just worried about you!” The folder fell to the floor, spilling its contents. Several photos scattered across the rug. The images were unmistakable: Adrian, holding a shard of glass to his own arm, cutting deep. The wounds were identical to the ones I’d just bandaged. My breath caught in my throat. I blinked slowly, then bent down to pick one up. Just then, the electronic lock beeped. “Susie, I bought you your favorite cake! The shop downtown was closed, so I had to run across seven blocks to…” Adrian’s excited voice died the moment his eyes fell on Eric. The air in the room went still. Soaked from the rain, Adrian stood frozen in the entryway’s shadow, the cake box in his arms perfectly pristine. He lowered his head, raindrops clinging to his trembling eyelashes. My fingers went slack, and the photograph fluttered to the floor. “Adrian, listen to me…” His gaze dropped to the photo at my feet. He looked like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. He walked toward me, slow and deliberate, his eyes rimmed with red. “Susie… even you don’t believe me?” “Adrian!” Eric lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar. “Stop the act! That illegal shipment at the docks last month—” “Enough!” I shoved myself between them, shielding Adrian. “Go get changed,” I told him gently. Then I turned to Eric. “And you, please leave. I don’t want to see you again.” Eric’s hand fell away, but his eyes never left my face. “Susie… you held my hand once, a long time ago,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Do you really not remember me?” I froze, a flicker of uncertainty crossing my mind. “Do I know you?” Adrian looked up at him, his voice trembling. “Eric, she’s all I have left. Are you trying to take her from me, too?” 3 I sent Eric away. Adrian clung to me like a frightened animal, refusing to let go. I gently stroked his hair. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “He didn’t fool me. I’ll always believe you.” He made a soft, whimpering sound before reluctantly pulling away. “Then… you wait here, okay? I’m just going to run down to the convenience store for a spoon. I was in such a hurry to get back that I forgot.” “Okay, go on.” “Wait! You forgot your umbrella again.” But he was already out the door, moving too fast. By the time the words left my mouth, he was gone. With a helpless sigh, I grabbed a coat and went after him. The rain was coming down in sheets, blurring the world into a gray watercolor. I stood at the intersection, scanning the street for any sign of him. Through the throng of people, I saw a familiar silhouette turn down a narrow alley. I hurried to follow. As I got closer, I heard the sickening thud of something heavy hitting a wall. Adrian’s voice, laced with a chilling amusement, drifted through the downpour. “Still haven’t learned your lesson, have you, Eric?” I instinctively slowed my steps, my blood turning to ice. The sight before me made me freeze. Rain slicked his skin, a single drop tracing the sharp line of his throat before disappearing into his collar. His white shirt was plastered to his torso, revealing the faint outline of the bandages I’d wrapped around him. He stood there, his expression blank, and brought his foot down, grinding the heel of his leather shoe onto Eric Cole’s fingers. Eric’s face contorted in agony as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. “I knew it,” he was saying to Adrian. “I knew you were just putting on a show for her.” Adrian’s eyes turned venomous. “Shh,” he whispered, pressing the sharp tip of a fountain pen to Eric’s throat. “Only I get to call her that.” He tilted his head, a faint, cruel smile playing on his lips. “Didn’t I tell you? You touch what’s mine…” Eric flinched away, and in that split second, our eyes met. I stumbled back behind the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs. I couldn’t be sure if he’d recognized me through the storm. Eric’s clenched fist slowly uncurled. He lowered his gaze, a nearly imperceptible smirk touching his lips. Adrian let out a cold snort. “What’s the matter? Scared? You’re so weak today. Weren’t you the one who almost threw me off a roof last time?” The next thing I heard was Eric’s voice, suddenly frail and broken. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who’s been beating me up this whole time!” He dissolved into a fit of hacking coughs. “It hurts… somebody… somebody, please help me!” 4 The flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance shattered the raindrops into a million silver shards. I stood at the mouth of the alley, clutching my phone as paramedics carefully loaded Eric onto a stretcher. His dark lashes fluttered weakly against his pale skin. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. “The patient has multiple metacarpal fractures from a crush injury. We need to get him to surgery immediately,” a nurse called out, her voice cutting through the roar of the rain. Three of Eric’s fingers were bent at an unnatural angle. The gash on his forehead, washed clean by the rain, looked ghostly white. I felt a tremor run through me and had to look away. A strange, sour ache bloomed in my chest. Could I have been wrong about him? I felt a scorching gaze on my back and turned. An umbrella suddenly appeared over my head. It was Adrian. He positioned it carefully, completely blocking my view of Eric and the ambulance. “Susie? What are you doing here?” he asked, his breathing ragged. His black hair was plastered to his forehead. My eyes flicked to the cuff of his gray sweatshirt. There was a dark, reddish stain there, blurred by the rain, that looked suspiciously like blood. I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. “I was waiting for you for too long. I got worried, so I came out to find you.” For a split second, Adrian’s expression stiffened. “The rain was so heavy, I had to buy another umbrella. That’s what took so long,” he said, his face smoothing back into its usual, obedient mask. He smiled. “Susie. I knew you loved me the most.” A paramedic with a clipboard approached us. “Ma’am, are you the one who called for the ambulance?” Adrian’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. The sound of the rain suddenly seemed deafening. I heard my own voice, calm and steady. “Yes. I saw someone was hurt.” The paramedic asked a few more routine questions, then nodded politely. “Okay, we understand. Thank you for your cooperation.” Throughout the entire exchange, Adrian was unnervingly silent, as if someone had hit his mute button. I didn’t look at him again. I just turned and walked away. On the way back to the hotel, Adrian trailed half a step behind me. The silence between us was heavy and suffocating. The elevator’s mirrored walls reflected his downcast profile, water dripping from his lashes like tears. I stared at the glowing red numbers as they climbed. “Adrian, why did you attack Eric?” “I didn’t go for the kill,” he said flatly. “I just wanted to scare him, to make him stay away from you. But then he grabbed a brick from the ground and smashed his own hand with it.” I closed my eyes, feeling a headache coming on. “Adrian, from what I remember, Eric has been a concert pianist for ten years. With the injuries he sustained tonight, he might never be able to play again. No musician would risk their entire career like that.” In the original novel, Eric’s musical talent was legendary. He’d won countless piano competitions since he was in middle school. The only sound in the elevator was our breathing. Suddenly, Adrian grabbed my wrist. His fingertips were as cold as ice, and his dark eyes were turbulent. “Susie, are you saying you think I’m lying?” The elevator dinged, arriving at the 28th floor. I gently pulled my hand from his grasp and stepped out first. “Adrian,” I said, not looking back. “I just can’t figure out what his motive would be for hurting himself. It doesn’t make any sense, does it?” There were no cameras in that alley. Eric would have no grounds to accuse Adrian of assault. So why would he do something so self-destructive?

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My girlfriend hired male escorts, and I booked the venue. My girlfriend went on a “friends” trip with another guy, and I bought the plane tickets. My girlfriend hooked up with some pretty boy, and I had condoms delivered to their hotel. They called me a simp, a doormat, the king of cuckolds. I didn’t care. Because I was bound to a system. A bizarre, cosmic contract. If I spent ten million dollars on her—as the ultimate doormat—I would be rewarded with nine quadrillion dollars in wealth. And I was almost there. 1 When I finally delivered the absurdly expensive fusion tacos I’d stood in line for three hours to get, Chloe was holding court in the VIP lounge, sharing the secrets of my training with her friends. “Leo? Oh, he’d literally lick the dirt off my shoes if I asked,” she said, a lazy smile playing on her lips. “You think there’s a line he wouldn’t cross?” I walked in as if I hadn’t heard a thing, placing the still-warm box on the table in front of her. I kept my head down, my face a blank mask. “I got the food. You should eat it while it’s hot.” Chloe raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, then grinned at her entourage. “You guys wanted to see what a real simp looks like in his natural habitat, right? How about a live demonstration?” The group of them, all sharp angles and designer labels, started to whoop and cheer. A cold knot formed in my stomach. Chloe stood up slowly, deliberately, and placed one stiletto-clad foot onto a velvet ottoman. The slit in her dress fell open, revealing a long, pale thigh. The view was breathtakingly deliberate. She crossed her arms, her expression a perfect portrait of icy, aristocratic boredom. “Leo,” she commanded, her voice clear and cutting, “crawl over here. On your knees. Then crawl under my leg. Just like you do when you’re begging me not to leave you.” A ripple of shock went through the lounge. Murmurs broke out. “Holy shit. Leo’s family has money, right? He’s gonna do this?” “Didn’t you hear Chloe? She said this is, like, their Tuesday.” “No way. I don’t believe it. Unless he’s literally her pet.” I stood frozen, the noise of the room fading to a dull hum. Chloe extended a single, manicured finger and crooked it, beckoning me closer. The gesture was unmistakable. It was the way you’d call over a dog. I took a deep breath, the air burning my lungs, and bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. Just one hundred thousand dollars left, I chanted to myself, a mantra against the rising tide of shame. Spend this last hundred K, and the system pays out. Nine quadrillion dollars. For a number so big it broke the calculator app… My knees hit the plush carpet. The room erupted in a symphony of jeers and laughter. “The King of Simps, for real!” “Damn, Chloe’s a goddess! She has him completely broken.” “He’s not even a man anymore. He’s just her dog!” I swallowed the humiliation, crawling slowly across the floor until I was at her feet. The laughter was a physical thing, sharp and stabbing at my eardrums. After I passed under the arch of her leg, I rose to my knees again, holding up the box of tacos with both hands. “Chloe,” I said, my voice steady. “Your tacos. You should eat them.” A smirk touched the corner of her mouth. She took the box with two fingers, as if it were contaminated. Then, she placed it on the coffee table. “You know,” she announced to her friends, “these would be perfect for a little game. Let’s play fetch.” She turned her cold eyes back to me. “Leo, you have to catch it. With your mouth. We wouldn’t want my friends to have a bad time, would we?” Before I could process what she meant, a taco hit me square in the face, guacamole smearing across my cheek. One of Chloe’s friends, a woman built like a linebacker in a silk dress, pouted. “Chloe, your pet is misbehaving. He didn’t even try to catch it like a dog! Now I have to take a penalty shot.” The displeasure was evident on her fleshy face. Chloe clicked her tongue. “Don’t worry, sweetie. A dog that doesn’t listen just needs to be disciplined. You love putting a bad dog in its place, don’t you? Go on.” The woman’s eyes lit up with a disturbing excitement. She stomped over to me, and her heavy, ring-laden hand swung through the air, connecting with my cheek in a brutal slap. The force of it sent me sprawling to the floor, my head ringing. Before I could recover, she grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me up and shoving my face into her suffocating cleavage. The cloying scent of cheap perfume and sweat filled my nostrils, making me gag. Her other fist began to rain down blows on my back, each one a dull, sickening thud. When she was finally done, she dropped me. I collapsed in a heap at Chloe’s slender ankles, every muscle screaming. She nudged my face with the pointed toe of her stiletto, pressing down until it felt like she was trying to bore a hole through my cheekbone. “Pathetic,” she hissed. Then, she dropped a leather collar onto the floor beside me. “Put it on,” she ordered. “Then go kneel outside the door. Wait there until we’re done playing, then you can take care of the bill.” 2 I wiped a smear of blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand and did as I was told. As I knelt in the hallway, collar fastened around my neck, a procession of male escorts, all smiles and sculpted abs, filed into the suite. Soon, the sounds from inside became a chaotic blur of shrieks, pulsing music, and the rhythmic slap of cards against a table. It wasn’t until three in the morning that the party wound down. The escorts stumbled out, looking exhausted. A few moments later, Chloe emerged, supported by her friends. Her face was flushed, her neck a canvas of angry red marks. You didn’t have to be a detective to know what had happened in there. “Leo, go pay,” she slurred, not even looking at me. “Then go to the market. Get some top-shelf caviar and the freshest uni. My mother called. She said you’re coming over at dawn to talk about… our future. The whole family will be there. Don’t you dare embarrass her.” “The best caviar,” she repeated, her voice hardening. “And the best uni. Got it?” I said nothing. Chloe and her friends didn’t have the energy to notice. As they staggered towards the elevator, I could still hear them talking. “God, to live like that… so pathetic.” “Who cares? As long as he’s willing to burn his money on Chloe, we get to play with the fire.” “Did you see him glare at me earlier? I swear he did. Next time I see him, I’m gonna gouge his eyes out. See if he ever looks at me like that again.” Just then, the bartender, Marco, walked over, his face a mask of pity. He gently helped me to my feet. “Man,” he said softly, “why do you do this to yourself? Paying for your own misery?” “There are so many good women out there. Why are you so hung up on… on her?” “She does this right in front of your face, over and over. Doesn’t it make you angry? Not even a little?” Seeing my lack of reaction, he just shook his head and sighed. “Look, your girlfriend ran up another tab. A hundred and six thousand. I talked to the owner, told him your situation. He said to knock off the six grand. You just owe a hundred thousand.” A hundred thousand dollars. My eyes lit up. A sudden, hot wetness blurred my vision. Marco flinched back. “Whoa, man, why are you looking at me like that?” Finally. I was finally going to spend this last hundred thousand. A full year of this subhuman torment was finally coming to an end. I didn’t even bother to wipe the tears streaming down my face. I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking, and transferred the final ten thousand dollars of my ten-million-dollar sentence. The instant the payment went through, a voice echoed in my mind, crisp and digital. “Ten million dollar ‘Simp Fund’ depleted. Nine quadrillion dollars has been transferred to the host’s account.” The voice faded, and I saw it. On my banking app. A number that was so long it looked like a glitch. Zeroes. So many zeroes. A one, then a comma, then a string of them that defied comprehension. Nine. Quadrillion. Dollars. It was real. A sob escaped my lips, and the tears fell freely now. Marco panicked. “Hey, man, don’t cry! Just leave her. Please, just walk away from her and you’ll never have to feel like this again.” I grabbed his sleeve, unable to speak through my weeping. He grew even more concerned. “Sir, look, I’ll refund you the money. I’ll have my boss collect from your girlfriend! He’s… connected. He’s good at collecting debts.” “No!” I managed to choke out, shaking my head frantically. “No, don’t. I’m just… I’m just so happy. These are tears of joy.” Marco just stared at me. 3 That night, I didn’t sleep. First, I called the real estate agent who’d been patiently showing me properties for months. I bought ten penthouses in the city’s most exclusive high-rises. All cash. Next, I called the luxury car salesman who always treated me with a polite, pitying deference. I ordered a McLaren in every color of the rainbow. Seven of them. Finally, I checked into the Emperor Suite at The Meridian Grand. I spent an hour just rolling around on the ten-foot-diameter bed. I clutched my phone, alternating between manic laughter and fits of relieved crying as I stared at my new bank balance. I finally drifted off to sleep just as the sky began to lighten. I was jolted awake by the shrill ring of my phone. It was Chloe’s mother, Brenda. “Leo Hayes, where are you? Weren’t you supposed to bring the seafood for the brunch? Are you dead somewhere?” “This is the day we discuss your future with Chloe! Her uncles are here, everyone’s here, and we’re all waiting to eat!” “Get your ass over here right now! Don’t make me tell Chloe to break up with you for good! You’ll never get the chance to worship the ground she walks on again!” Click. She hung up. On pure, conditioned instinct, I threw on my clothes and grabbed a cab to Chloe’s family home. It wasn’t until I was standing on her doorstep that the reality of my new life crashed back into me. I didn’t have to do this anymore. As I turned to leave, the door swung open. Brenda was standing there, holding takeout bags from a nice hotel. She shot me a look of pure disdain. “Here.” She shoved the bags into my arms. “Useless.” Then came the verbal assault. “I ask you to do one simple thing, and you can’t even manage that. What good are you for anything?” “You’re lucky you have money. Without it, you’d be absolutely worthless.” “The thought of my Chloe marrying a moron like you… it makes me sick. She deserves so much better.” She pushed past me into the house. The living room was filled with Chloe’s relatives, all of them eyeing me like a piece of meat. I stood there for a long moment, taking deep breaths, wanting nothing more than to walk away. But as I placed the takeout bags on the dining table, Brenda barked at me again. “Forget the food, we don’t need you for that. Come over here and let’s get this dowry conversation over with. Then you can go to that Michelin place downtown and pick up some of their tasting menus. Your uncles want the Wagyu and the sea urchin. Just looking at your pathetic face is ruining everyone’s appetite.” I pressed my lips together. This was it. Time to set the record straight. But before I could speak, Chloe’s eldest uncle cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s talk numbers. Chloe is the only girl in our family, the eldest of her generation. She has three younger cousins, my boys, who are all unmarried. Traditionally, her marriage should help secure their futures. I won’t beat around the bush. My oldest is twenty-eight. His girlfriend wants a half-million-dollar ring, a house, and a car. Three million should cover it.” The second uncle chimed in. “My son is still in college, also has a girlfriend. A nice girl, doesn’t want a dowry, but they’ll need a condo downtown and a luxury car. That’s probably five million, easy.” The third uncle sighed dramatically. “My boy’s only in elementary school. But if you factor in private school, college, a trust fund for a house and car, plus a seed fund for him to study abroad… ten million should be a safe bet.” The total came to eighteen million dollars. Brenda nodded approvingly. “Her uncles are being very reasonable, just thinking about your future together. I’m sure this amount is no problem for you, Leo. Then, of course, Chloe’s father and I will need a small fund for our retirement. Global travel, you know. A million a year should suffice, we can do it in installments. And Chloe, well, she’s accustomed to a certain lifestyle. A five-thousand-square-foot penthouse and a million-dollar sports car, both in her name only. That’s about it. You can handle the deed and title transfers as soon as she wakes up. You can wire us the rest of the money now.” As she spoke, the uncles all pulled out their phones, ready to show me their QR codes for the transfer.

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The summer I bombed the exams that were supposed to define my future, I ran away to a small coastal town and fell in love with my landlord. At the peak of it, I wanted to run away with him for good. It didn’t happen. My fault. I found the secret he kept locked in his room. Turns out, I was just a stand-in. A ghost. We shattered like glass. Years later, I’m back in that same town, knocking on his door again. I watch the color drain from his face, watch his eyes start to burn, and I state my purpose. “I’m planning a wedding,” I say. “And I’m here to buy something from you.” 1 The silence stretched for two seconds, thick and heavy. He wrestled his emotions back into their cage, but when he spoke, his voice was a raw, terrible rasp. “Buy what?” Under his searing gaze, I managed to remain calm. “An engagement ring.” “I was told you were the designer.” I held up my phone, showing him the picture. A natural red crystal and a shimmering opal, clustered together on the band to form a half-wilted poppy. Under the gallery lights, it was hauntingly beautiful. The piece was titled Addiction. Bloom. The moment Chloe saw it, she knew it had to be her wedding ring. But the gallery’s response was firm: Private collection. For exhibition only. Chloe, however, has a peculiar talent for obsession. It was an entry from a design competition years ago. The designer had licensed it for shows, but never for sale. After pulling a dozen threads, I found my way here. Returning to this place… it was impossible not to think of him. The designer’s name was Rhys Atherton. Funny thing is, I don’t know any Rhys Atherton. But I know a man named Rhys. 2 The summer I met Rhys was the worst summer of my eighteen years. I’d failed the exams that were supposed to be my ticket to a good university. The Grant family decided to ship me off to a program in Europe. My family—the family that had taken me in—had arranged a marriage between their son, Caleb, and Chloe. My long-simmering, secret love for him died a quiet, unremarkable death. And Caleb, bless his heart, played the part of the warm, supportive older brother, telling me to just go along with the plan. He had no idea I was in love with him. He had no idea that I’d nearly killed myself studying, all for the chance to stay in the country, to stay near him. He knew nothing. Every step I took toward him, he took one back, gently pushing me away. So I told them I wanted a graduation trip first. A final summer to myself before I disappeared. It was a useless rebellion against his gentle suffocation, a desperate attempt to create some distance. And the first step was physical. Rhys was the owner of the guesthouse I rented in Port Blossom. My first impression of him: he looked like trouble. Shaggy, dark hair that fell into his eyes, sun-kissed skin, and a smile that flashed impossibly white. When I first arrived, I couldn’t sleep. A lingering side effect of my academic flameout. I’d find myself down on the beach at three or four in the morning, just letting the cold salt spray hit my face. He didn’t seem to sleep either. He’d be out there on the sand, collecting shells, and would always materialize beside me out of the darkness, striking up a conversation. We’d talk about everything and nothing until the sun came up, and then he’d drag me into town for breakfast before letting me go back to my room to finally crash. On the fifth night, he finally broke. “Kid, you’re killing me. I can’t keep pulling these all-nighters with you.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “How about this? You go back right now, get some real sleep. Meet me here tomorrow at ten, and I’ll show you a good time.” I was skeptical, but I did it. Just then, the wind blew his bangs from his face, and I saw him clearly for the first time. He was actually incredibly handsome. The next day, true to his word, he took me fishing, surfing, kayaking. That night, I was exhausted and asleep by nine. The four-a.m. beach walks became a thing of the past. This became our new routine. I found out later he thought I was suicidal. It was funny, in a bleak sort of way. He, who seemed to have given up on living, was worried someone else wanted to die. I discovered his own tendencies one night when the water heater in my bathroom broke. I knocked on his door, but there was no answer for a long time. When he finally opened it, the smell of blood hit me. I caught a glimpse of bloody tissues in his trash can, and a jolt of shock, then panic, went through me. Later, as he was fixing the valve, his shirt got soaked. Through the thin, wet cotton, I saw them: a crosshatch of scars, old and new, running up his arms. I froze. He didn’t seem like the type… Or maybe, he just seemed too normal all the time… I remember my brain short-circuiting. The first words out of my mouth were painfully direct. “Are you on medication?” “What?” He frowned, as if he’d misheard me. I reached out, my hand closing around his wrist. “We’re going to the hospital,” I said, my voice shaking but firm. And he went. He actually went with me, saw a doctor, got a prescription, and even started therapy. That’s when we started dating. Was it pity? Of course not. Until that moment, he had been the one taking care of me. His concern for me went far beyond any landlord-tenant relationship. I think my heart had already started to lean toward him during those sleepless nights. But it wasn’t until I saw the full scope of his pain, etched into his skin, that the feeling became so strong I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Just like now. 3 Rhys fell silent, then stepped aside, letting me into the house. The layout was almost exactly as I remembered it from three years ago—impersonal, monochrome, relentlessly dull. Back then, I had been endlessly curious about him. Why was he sick? Why did he have no friends or family to speak of? What did he do all day? What was his life before this? His house felt like an extension of that mystery, a place full of secrets. But whenever I asked, he would just brush it off with a few words. Ordinary. Nothing special. Boring. I was so desperate for answers I’d bring him every ridiculous rumor I heard in town. “They say you killed someone. That you did time. Is it true?” I knew he wouldn’t get angry with me. And he didn’t. He just glanced at me, a roguish grin spreading across his face. “It’s true. I was married, too. Had a wife. She ran off with another guy while I was in the joint.” He let out a deep, theatrical sigh, as if recalling a great tragedy. I was stunned. I hadn’t expected such a harsh history and immediately felt clumsy and tactless for bringing it up. Then I heard a choked laugh. I turned, and he was clutching his stomach, his laughter now open and unrestrained. I stared, completely bewildered. When he finally caught his breath, he reached out and flicked my forehead. His voice was low and smooth, impossibly alluring. “You’re so easy to fool, kid.” The way he looked at me then… it was against the rules. I must have been under his spell, because the words just tumbled out of my mouth. “Rhys, I don’t care about your past.” “Why don’t you… take me with you? Let’s run away.” For one, I hated the way the townspeople whispered about him. For another, I wanted to escape the Grants. I’d thought it all through. Rhys was a good person, he was good to me, he was handsome—he was perfect. Going with him was a winning bet. He stared at me for a long time after I said it. “You can’t just say things like that.” “I’m not. I’m serious.” He ignored me. I pestered him about it for a month, the argument finally ending in his bed. “Are you just playing with me? Is this not serious to you at all?” He propped himself up on an elbow. “Kid, I treat you like you’re royalty. How much more serious do you want me to get?” “Then run away with me.” He pressed his fingers to his temple. “What was the first thing you said?” Confused, I repeated myself. “Are you just…” “Yes,” he said, cutting me off. Without another word, he hauled me out of the bed, pushed me out of his room, and locked the door. “…” It was humiliating. The first time in my life I had ever offered myself to someone, and he’d literally thrown me out. I’d been in Port Blossom for nearly three months. Every message from Caleb had gone unanswered. On his way to come find me, he got into a car accident. I was with Rhys when Caleb’s mother called. There were no flights back, so Rhys drove me the six hours to the hospital himself. The sun was blinding that day. I felt like I was moving through a dream. When I finally stumbled into the hospital, the first thing I received was a sharp slap across the face from Mrs. Grant. Caleb was in surgery. I knelt on the cold floor outside the operating room. I knelt until a doctor came out and announced the surgery was a success. As Mrs. Grant rushed past me, I tried to stand and follow her into the room. My legs were completely numb. I staggered, falling straight into a familiar pair of arms. I realized then that Rhys hadn’t left. “Why are you still here?” Rhys steadied me, a faint smile on his lips. “You asked me to run away with you, didn’t you? I couldn’t just leave you here.” He helped me toward the hospital room, but we were stopped by Mrs. Grant’s icy glare. He was pushed out. And so was I. Shut out of the room, I forced a bitter smile and looked at Rhys, who seemed at a loss for words. “No need to ask,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’ll save you the trouble. I’m not her real son.” I was adopted from an orphanage by the Grant family. This kind of treatment was nothing new. After Rhys took me back to Port Blossom, we didn’t speak about that day. By some unspoken agreement, we buried it. He even started packing his bags, seriously talking about “running away” with me. If I hadn’t accidentally seen the photograph in his desk drawer, I probably would have followed him like a fool. And maybe being a fool would have been better. But in that moment, standing in front of Rhys, I suddenly found my pride. The photo showed a younger Rhys, his arm slung around another young man’s shoulders, both of them beaming at the camera. Staring at that face—a face that looked so much like mine—my mind went blank. I finally understood. My own words from before were complete bullshit. I don’t care about your past. I cared so damn much it was killing me. We had the biggest fight of our lives. Well, it was mostly me. I threw the picture at him, demanding an explanation, over and over. He just stood there, silent as a stone. Finally, my heart turned to ice. I delivered the verdict on our ridiculous, short-lived romance with a cold laugh. “He’s dead, isn’t he? So I’m his replacement?” More silence. “Is that why you were so good to me? Or was it pity? I must seem pretty pathetic to you, huh? Pretty pitiable.” Still silence. I kicked the coffee table, sending it crashing into the wall. “Rhys, you asshole. I’m done. I’m not playing this game anymore.” And just like that, we were over.

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Hurricane Isabel, the strongest storm in a century, was tearing our city apart. I was a week from my due date, and a contraction seized me so violently I nearly dropped the phone. I was about to call my husband, Ethan, the head of OB/GYN at St. Jude’s University Hospital, when a voice echoed in my head. A voice that was not my own. [Mommy, don’t call him.] I flinched, thinking the pain was making me hallucinate. But the thought was too clear, too specific. And it had a reason. [Daddy’s with her. The girl he never got over. If he comes to you now, she’ll die in the storm.] My blood ran cold. On the other end of the line, my husband’s voice, smooth and professional, finally came through. “Is this an emergency, Claire? I’m a little busy.” [He’ll kill us, Mommy. He’ll let us die to make it up to her.] The tiny, frantic voice in my skull sent a tremor of pure animal fear through me. I found my own voice, making it flat, unemotional. “No. It’s nothing. I can handle it myself.” Let him stay with his ghost. I was choosing to trust my child. 1 After I hung up, the shriek of the wind outside intensified, the sound of a beast trying to claw its way in. The floor-to-ceiling windows in our penthouse living room, a feature Ethan had been so proud of, were bowing inward, the glass warping like a sheet of plastic wrap under the assault of the Category 5 winds. I stared at them, a primal dread coiling in my gut. Another contraction, this one a low, grinding pressure, pulled my focus downward. I clutched my belly, trying to heave myself off the couch to get the hospital bag I should have packed weeks ago. The small, urgent voice returned, clearer this time. [Mommy, get out of the living room! Now! Daddy let Ava talk him into this apartment, but he cheaped out on the glass. It’s not rated for a storm like this. It’s going to break!] A jolt of adrenaline shot through me. There was no time to question it. Driven by pure instinct, I half-crawled, half-dragged my heavy body toward the small, windowless guest bathroom behind the building’s main support wall. I had just managed to pull my weight inside, my breath coming in ragged gasps, when the world behind me exploded. BOOM! I whipped my head around to see the entire wall of windows disintegrate, sucked out into the storm as if by a giant’s hand. A tidal wave of glass shards and torrential rain blasted into our home, instantly shredding furniture, art, our entire life together, into a maelstrom of debris. My strength gave out. I collapsed onto the cold tile, the phone slipping from my sweaty palm. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen. A moment later, a warm gush of fluid soaked through my leggings. My water had broken. [I’m sorry, Mommy… I think… I think I’m coming out.] The baby’s voice was thin with fear, laced with a sob. I remembered a video from a birthing class—once your water breaks, you don’t move. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, fumbling for the phone, my fingers slick with amniotic fluid. I managed to dial 911. “911, what is your emergency?” a calm dispatcher’s voice said over the chaos. I steadied my breath and gave her the address. There was a pause. Her tone shifted. “Ma’am, are you Dr. Ethan Cole’s wife? I’m transferring you to Dr. Evans in the ER. He’s coordinating our storm response and knows your area best.” Mark Evans. Ethan’s best friend, the hospital’s head of emergency medicine. A wave of relief washed over me. I was saved. The call connected instantly. “Claire, what the hell?” Mark’s voice was sharp, impatient. “Ethan already gave me a heads-up. Stop messing around. You need to cut it out.” My heart stopped. It wasn’t a misunderstanding. It wasn’t a hallucination. Ethan truly believed my call for help was just a petty, jealous game. Remembering my baby’s warning, a new wave of fear, colder and sharper than any contraction, washed over me. “I’m not,” I begged, my voice cracking. “My water broke, Mark. Please, you have to send someone.” He scoffed. “In this weather? Are you serious? Besides, every ambulance in the city is on standby for critical emergencies. Ethan told me you were fine, just looking for attention.” His voice dripped with condescension. “We’re in the middle of a natural disaster, Claire. Medical resources are stretched to the limit. Don’t waste them because you’re feeling jealous.” Click. He hung up without a second thought. I stared at the dark screen, the last flicker of hope extinguished. The hurricane slammed against the flimsy bathroom door, again and again. With every gush of fluid, I could feel my body’s warmth seeping away, taking my baby’s with it. I placed a hand on my belly, no longer feeling the familiar, reassuring kicks. I had to get up. I had to crawl out of this death trap if I had to. But as I tried to move, a contraction of unimaginable force seized me. The world went black, and I fell hard against the wet tile, the impact jarring every bone in my body. I was lying in a spreading pool of my own fluids and blood. I didn’t have the strength to get up again. 2 [Mommy, don’t give up. Post in the residents’ group chat. Ask for help!] On the edge of consciousness, the tiny voice sparked back to life. It was the last thread I had to hold onto. With trembling fingers, I found my phone, my vision blurring the blood smeared across the screen. I opened the building’s Facebook group. “This is Claire Cole in Penthouse 1901 in Tower 12. I’m pregnant and my water just broke. Is there a doctor in the building? Please, help me and my baby.” I added, “The living room windows are gone. I’m trapped in the guest bathroom.” The response was immediate. “Oh my God! In this storm!” “I can’t help, but I’ve already called 911 and the fire department rescue squad for you. Sister, you have to hang on!” “Don’t be scared, honey! We’re your neighbors, we’ll figure something out!” A flood of messages poured in. Then a voice message from a man whose profile picture was of him in military fatigues. His voice was calm and steady. “This is Dave from Tower 11. I’m a combat vet. When the eye of the storm passes over, I’m going over. Any other able-bodied men want to come with me?” The group went silent for a second, then erupted. “I’m in.” “Count me in.” “My husband will go!” Tears I didn’t know I had left streamed down my face. In my darkest moment, strangers were offering me the hope my own husband had denied. I don’t know how long I lay there, but eventually, the apocalyptic roar outside ceased, replaced by an eerie, deafening silence. The eye of the storm. At that exact moment, I heard the frantic pounding of footsteps outside my apartment door. “Claire? Are you okay? We’re here to get you out!” I choked back a sob. “I’m okay!” I yelled, my voice hoarse. “Roger that! We’re breaking down the door!” the man shouted back. CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! With a final, deafening boom, the reinforced steel door was smashed open. Several figures rushed in, led by Dave, the retired Marine. His face was grim, but when his eyes fell on the pool of blood beneath me, his expression turned to one of alarm. “Shit. Okay, find a plank, something sturdy! We need to carry her down!” Hands were all over me, carefully lifting me onto what looked like a splintered piece of a door. As they carried me through the wreckage of my home, my gaze fell on the entryway. On the console table, the glass on our wedding photo was shattered. But the picture itself was untouched. Ethan had his arm around me, his smile so full of warmth and adoration it looked like he was holding the most precious thing in the universe. What a fucking joke. I stared at his lying, hypocritical smile, and a pain sharper than any contraction squeezed my heart. [Don’t look at him, Mommy. He thinks you’re messy.] The baby’s tearful voice cut through my haze, severing the last thread of affection I had for that man. I closed my eyes, the heartbreak absolute. Down in the relative safety of the underground parking garage, the neighbors tried 911 again. This time, Mark Evans answered the speakerphone. “This is St. Jude’s ER, Dr. Evans speaking.” “Doctor, we’re in the Azure Tower garage. We have a pregnant woman whose water has broken! Where the hell is your ambulance?” Dave roared. “The eye of the storm is going to pass any minute!” On the other end, I could practically hear Mark roll his eyes. He said my name with weary disdain. “Is this about Claire Cole again? How many people did you get to play along with this little drama of yours?” Dave exploded. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’re talking about two human lives here! What kind of doctor are you? I swear to God, I’ll have your license for this!” Mark seemed taken aback by the fury. He paused, then sneered. “You want to threaten me? Fine. Prove it. Put her on video and show me she’s really in labor.” The phone’s camera was immediately pointed at me. A face, pale as death. Clothes soaked through with blood. The undeniable, steady trickle of fluid from between my legs. Mark went silent. The neighbors, thinking they’d finally gotten through, pressed him. “So? Can you send a car now?” “…It’s already on its way,” he said, his voice strained. But I heard a different voice, my baby’s, frantic and fading fast. [He’s lying! He didn’t send anyone!] [Mommy, the access road at the front of the complex… it’s going to collapse in five minutes! If we don’t leave now, we’ll be trapped!] 3 My baby’s voice was terrifyingly weak. My heart seized. I grabbed Dave’s arm, my grip surprisingly strong. “He’s lying,” I rasped. “We have to use your car. We have to go now!” My voice rose to a desperate cry. “The main road… it’s about to collapse!” The neighbors stared at me, confused. Through the phone, Mark laughed, a sound full of derision. “Wow, Claire. You’re really committing to the bit, huh? You came up with a whole collapsing road subplot just to get Ethan’s attention?” I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. I locked my eyes, raw and bloodshot, onto Dave’s. “Please,” I begged. “Please, trust me. We have to drive. Now!” Dave looked at my terrified face, then made a split-second decision. “You heard her! Get her in my truck! Let’s go!” He scooped me up as others opened the door to his lifted Ford F-150. They maneuvered me into the back seat just as he gunned the engine. The truck shot forward out of the garage. The phone line was still open. Mark was still talking. “I really have to see how this little play of yours ends…” He never finished the sentence. Just as our tires hit the public street, a deafening groan echoed from behind us. CRUUUUNCH! The entire stretch of road we had just driven over buckled and then collapsed into a newly formed sinkhole, swallowed by the earth. Everyone in the truck gasped. On the phone, Mark’s voice was choked with horror and disbelief. “You… How did you know that?” Before I could answer, a pain unlike anything I had ever felt tore through me. My whole body arched, and a hot, primal torrent erupted from between my legs. On the screen, Mark could see my belly contracting into a rigid peak. He finally understood. This was real. A doctor’s duty, long overdue, finally kicked in. He began directing Dave to pull over to a sheltered spot, his voice a remote guide as he started talking me through the birth. The waves of pain were endless, drowning my senses, pulling me under. My world narrowed to the shaking roof of the truck and the bloody haze in front of my eyes. I was losing consciousness, ready to give up. [Push, Mommy… I want to live… I want to see you…] The baby’s voice, a faint, desperate whisper. I want to see you. The words were a lightning bolt, shattering the fog in my mind. My baby. He had never seen the world. He had never seen me. He had fought so hard, warned me, stayed with me, all because he wanted to live long enough to see his mother’s face. I gripped the leather seat beneath me, summoned every last ounce of strength in my body, and screamed a raw, guttural cry that ripped from my soul. And then, through the sound of the wind and rain finally starting to die down, another cry answered mine. “Waaaaah!” A clear, strong, beautiful cry. My son was born. A woman in the car, another neighbor, deftly wrapped him in a clean blanket from her own go-bag. Dave handed her a bottle of water. As the first light of dawn broke through the clouds, the hurricane passed. In the distance, the wail of a siren grew closer. The ambulance had finally arrived. Mark was with them. “Claire, I am so sorry,” he said, his face pale with guilt. “If Ethan hadn’t told me you were faking, I never would have let it go this long.” I couldn’t speak. I was freezing, shaking uncontrollably. I just blinked. Before Mark could say more, the heart monitor they’d hooked me up to began to scream. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeep—! The paramedic’s head snapped up. “She’s hemorrhaging! BP is dropping fast! Get her family on the phone, now!” Mark’s face went white. He fumbled for his phone and dialed Ethan, his voice shaking. “Ethan! It’s Claire, she’s bleeding out! You have to get over here! We need you to sign for emergency surgery!” The line was silent for a few seconds. Then came Ethan’s voice, laced with an impatient, amused cruelty. “Mark, you fell for that? She got to you, too?” “It’s real, you asshole! Her blood pressure is 60 over 40! She’s going to die if we don’t get her into an OR right now!” Mark screamed, veins bulging in his forehead. Ethan’s reply was as cold as the grave. “So what?” “Claire needs to be taught a lesson.” “Let her lie there for a while. Once she’s had a good scare, maybe she’ll learn not to bother me with this kind of drama.” Mark was shaking with rage. “Ethan, what the fuck is wrong with you? That’s your wife! That’s your son’s mother!” “My son?” Ethan laughed, a short, ugly sound. “Who gives a damn about the son she had?” The line went dead. I lay on the cold stretcher, feeling the life draining out of me, my warmth and my blood becoming one and the same. As my vision tunneled, I saw them wheeling me through the hospital doors, toward the operating room. Doctors and nurses were scrubbed, ready. Everything was prepared. A nurse rushed out. “Where’s the family? I have the consent for surgery and the notice of critical condition! We can’t proceed without a signature!” Mark stood frozen, his phone clutched in a white-knuckled fist. His face was ashen. “The family… he refuses to sign.”

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I was on a street corner, happily devouring a kebab, when I saw exactly what I expected to see on Finn’s Instagram feed: a picture of my girlfriend, Ava. The caption read: Your cooking is the best medicine. After being stood up by Ava this many times, my heart was a placid lake. I was even thinking I should just break up with her already, to get out of their way. 1. I was chewing on a tough piece of grilled beef when my phone screen lit up with Ava’s name. It was just slowing down my kebab consumption. I was about to ignore it, but the side of my hand brushed against the screen and accidentally answered the call. Guess I had to deal with this. “Yeah?” I said. Ava’s voice was breezy, completely normal. “Hey, something came up at the office. Sorry I had to bail on you again. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I bit off the last piece of beef and picked up a grilled mushroom skewer. “Right. Got it. No worries.” A hint of suspicion crept into her voice. “Where are you?” I glanced around at the bustling, noisy street. The Empyrean, our original destination, was definitely not this loud. “Oh, I was craving some street food, so… yeah.” The grilled mushrooms were perfect. Her voice sharpened with annoyance. “You just decided that on your own? I pulled strings to get that reservation! Not showing up makes me look bad. What am I supposed to tell my friend?” “Why not just tell her the real reason you couldn’t make it? I’m sure she’d understand.” “The real reason? What are you implying now?” I sighed. “Is Finn feeling any better?” Her voice dropped, laced with a guilt she couldn’t quite hide. “How did you know… No, that’s not it. Let me explain.” “Don’t bother. I get it,” I said, cutting her off. “My kebab’s getting cold. Talk later.” I hung up. “Hey man, your grilled eggplant!” the vendor called out. “Awesome, thanks!” Ah, garlic-roasted eggplant. My absolute favorite. As for why Ava ditched me, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. On my way to The Empyrean, I’d seen Finn’s Instagram post: Dinner time, but I feel awful. No appetite. Don’t want to eat a thing. That was my cue. I told the driver to turn around and head for the food truck court. It was practically a conditioned response by now. Ever since Finn entered the picture, he’d always been her number one priority. Finn was a fresh-faced intern at Ava’s company, full of youthful energy. Ava’s opinion of him had morphed from, “He’s so incompetent, I’m tempted to fire him every day,” to “He’s actually trying really hard, and he hasn’t had it easy.” I knew then that she was falling for him. Soon enough, any little problem Finn had in his life, Ava would be the first to rush in and solve it. I watched it happen, feeling completely powerless, completely helpless. It wasn’t like I didn’t fight it. We argued, we yelled. But Ava’s excuses were always so infuriatingly dismissive. “He’s just a kid, fresh out of college, with no friends in this city. I’m just looking out for an employee.” “Anniversaries aren’t a big deal. We can celebrate later. But his stomach bug is acting up now. You’ve had that pain before, you know how bad it feels, right?” “You just sprained your ankle. He has a fever. You can see which one is more serious, can’t you?” So, I became immune. Numb. Getting stood up for a fancy dinner? Compared to everything else, it was nothing. Barely a blip on the radar. 2. The next morning, I walked into the living room and was shocked to see Ava there. This was a rare occurrence. Usually, after a night like last night, she’d just head to work straight from Finn’s apartment. She glanced at me, her expression casual. “Got back too late yesterday, so I just crashed in the guest room.” “Hm,” I grunted. She paused, then added, “You’re up a little late. Probably don’t have time to make breakfast, huh?” “I’ll grab something on the way,” I said flatly. She offered a small smile. “That’s a shame. I was kind of missing your porridge and omelets.” My hand was on the bathroom doorknob. “What’s there to miss? I’m sure you’ve already had breakfast.” I shut the door behind me. I used to wake up early every single day to cook for her. But ever since Finn invaded our lives, she’d gradually stopped eating the breakfast I made. After changing, I was heading for the door when I saw her standing there, her face a mask of complicated emotions. “I know I’ve been busy lately,” she said, “and haven’t been home for breakfast. I’ll try to be home more often from now on.” I managed a thin smile. “Don’t bother. I’d rather get some more sleep.” That extra thirty minutes of sleep today had me feeling surprisingly refreshed. She stared at me, looking like she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. As I reached for the front door, she lunged forward and grabbed my hand. I looked at her. Her lips tightened. “I only saw Finn’s post later last night. He didn’t mean anything by it. And nothing happened between us. Don’t get the wrong idea.” Even knowing he’d posted it, she was still defending him. In the past, any time I expressed the slightest dissatisfaction with Finn’s behavior, she’d frown and call me “petty” and “small-minded.” If I pushed back, she’d get defensive, accusing me of having a “dirty mind,” insisting their friendship was purely platonic. I just smiled. I was used to her bias. Seeing my lack of reaction, she pressed on. “I know you’re upset that I stood you up. But Finn got sick so suddenly. You know he’s all alone here, no family, no one to look after him…” I pulled my hand free. “I know,” I said calmly. “I get it. Can I go now? I’m going to be late for work.” She blocked the door again, her tone growing frustrated. “I told you, nothing happened between us! Why are you still sulking?” “And I told you I believe you,” I shot back. “So why are you still blocking my way?” “You…” “Seriously, I’m going to be late.” Ignoring her stunned expression, I walked out. 3. When I got home that evening, I went straight to the bedroom to grab a change of clothes for a shower. As I passed the study, I heard Ava’s voice drift out. “Just send it to me. I’ll take care of it.” “It’s no problem, really. It’s just a little bit of work, I can knock it out in no time.” “Haha, you got it. You owe me a big dinner for this.” I knew what this was. Ava, once again, doing Finn’s work for him. I remembered asking her once to help me grade some of my students’ papers. After two days of waiting, I gently reminded her. She snapped. “It’s the weekend! Can’t I just relax and have some fun? Do your own work. Helping you is a favor, not my duty.” I ended up pulling an all-nighter to finish them myself. But ever since Finn joined her company, a man who seemed to know nothing, she had patiently lowered herself to handle his tasks for him. When I confronted her about it, she said, “He’s new to the professional world. It’s normal for him to be clueless about a lot of things. Weren’t you the same when you first started teaching?” The memory of the student papers flashed in my mind, and we had a massive fight. She ended it by saying coldly, “At least when I help Finn, it benefits my company. What do I get out of helping you?” We gave each other the silent treatment for a long time after that. But I was still an idiot back then, so I forgave her after a half-hearted apology. After my shower, I settled into bed with my tablet to watch a show. A little while later, the bedroom door creaked open. I looked up. Ava was standing there with a weary smile. She climbed into bed and wrapped her arms around me. “You’re home! You didn’t even say hi, just started playing on your own? Your wife just finished a long day of work, and she’s starving.” “Ask Finn to make you something.” Her arms stiffened, and her face went dark. “Why do you have to bring Finn into everything? Can you stop having such a dirty mind for one second?” I put my tablet down. “I’m not. You just spent all that time doing his work for him. It’s only fair he cook you a meal in return, right? To pay you back.” She froze. “You heard that?” Then her brow furrowed. “I told you, Finn’s new. It’s normal for me to help him out. It’s for the good of the company! When the company does well, we both benefit. The money I earn helps us build a better life together! “Why can’t you just understand that?” So she did remember that I’d invested my inheritance from my parents into her company. Funny, because when I demanded she fire Finn, her response had been, “Who’s the boss here, me or you?” “I guess I don’t understand,” I said peacefully. “All I know is that if a teacher at my school was still a complete mess at their job after six months, they’d have been fired long ago.” Ava sighed, a long, dramatic exhalation. “Fine, fine. I’ll push him to get up to speed. I’ll try not to help him anymore. And if you have any student work in the future, you can give it to me. I’ll handle it for you. Is that good enough? “Anyway, I’m hungry now. Hubby, go make me a late-night snack? We haven’t eaten together in so long.” She was trying to sweet-talk me, clearly remembering how well it worked in the past. “No, thanks. You were right before—everyone should do their own work. Besides, I already ate before I came home. Just order some takeout.” Her face instantly turned to ice. She was silent for two long seconds, then she shot off the bed, turned, and slammed the door behind her. 4. After that night, Ava and I entered another cold war. But unlike previous times, when I’d be a nervous wreck, unable to focus on anything, this time I was… happy. Utterly, blissfully happy on my own. And I certainly wasn’t about to swallow my pride and beg for her forgiveness the next day like I used to. A week later, around nine at night, her best friend Sarah called me. Her message was brief. “Eddy, get down to the bar near the office. Ava’s—” I hung up before she could finish. Her little clique of work friends never liked me. They thought a high school teacher like me wasn’t good enough for a “young, successful, independent woman” like Ava. On the rare occasions Ava dragged me to a company party, they’d mostly ignore me or make thinly veiled digs. I wasn’t even allowed to look annoyed, or Ava would accuse me of being a bad sport. Thinking back on it, I was pathetic. But I have to admit, I brought it on myself. Sarah called again. I declined and blocked her number. Then I started calling real estate agents to schedule apartment viewings. I’d spent the week looking for a new place. The current apartment wasn’t just Ava’s; it was close to her office and a long commute from my school. Waking up early every morning left me perpetually exhausted, walking around like a zombie. My colleagues had even suggested I see a doctor because I looked so terrible every day. With a schedule like that, of course I looked terrible. 5. After I blocked Sarah, her friends started calling me, one after another. I’d just finished a call with an agent when another one came through. I was about to block this number too, but I saw the caller ID: “Maya.” I decided to answer. Maya was the only one in that group who was ever genuinely nice to me. She never joined in on the passive-aggressive comments. It was only fair to return the courtesy. “Eddy?” she asked tentatively. “Ava’s really drunk. She keeps calling your name. Could you please just come get her?” “Ask Finn to pick her up. I’m busy,” I said, eyeing the moving boxes I needed to pack. This was going to be a project. “But… it’s Saturday… and honestly, there’s nothing going on between her and Finn…” Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the phone, followed by Ava’s furious roar. “Hang up! Why are you calling him?! What is there to explain to him?!” I hung up first, not wanting to put Maya in a more awkward position. After I finished packing, I collapsed on the sofa and idly scrolled through my social media. As expected, Finn hadn’t disappointed me. He’d posted something new. Feel so bad for someone. So drunk her own boyfriend won’t even pick her up. Guess it’s up to a lowly intern like me to save the day. The photo was of Ava, sleeping. I felt nothing. I put my phone down, then had a sudden urge to go back and like the post. But packing had worn me out. By the time I picked up my phone again a few minutes later, the post was gone. Just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the apartment. The door swung open. Standing there, the woman who was supposed to be passed out drunk, was Ava. Her face was a thundercloud.

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In the seventh year of my crush on my childhood best friend, Caleb, my own best friend finally gave me the push I needed. I bought flowers and his favorite cake, took an all-night bus, and went to confess my feelings. Only to find him at a packed basketball court. Kissing her. Caleb had his arm wrapped around my best friend, Lily. His voice was cold when he saw me. “What are you doing here? Can’t you see I’m busy?” Humiliated and a mess from my trip, I was about to stammer out an explanation. But then his roommate let out a soft laugh from the sidelines. “My girlfriend brought me a cake. What’s it to you?” 1 When I found the basketball court, cake box in hand, Caleb had Lily pinned against the chain-link fence, kissing her. Lily only froze for a second before wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as deeply. The air was thick and hot. I stood just outside the court, dizzy and lightheaded after the overnight bus ride. The roar of the crowd felt like it was going to burst my eardrums. “Dude, I told you! I bet he’d finally make a move on Lily today.” “It’s about time. They’ve been flirting for ages.” “Pay up, pay up!” The words hit me, and the strength drained from my arms. The flowers and the cake suddenly felt impossibly heavy. On my phone was the last text Lily had sent me. “Caleb’s at the court! Go get him!” 2 The sky had turned a gloomy gray. A wind was picking up. Swallowing the lump of humiliation in my throat, I turned and ran. Behind me, I heard Lily’s frantic voice, thick with tears. “Chloe… it’s not what it looks like…” “Let me explain.” I’d been on a bus for nearly twenty-four hours. I was exhausted and my heart was shattered. I didn’t have the energy to figure out why Lily, on the very day she pushed me to confess my feelings, was kissing the guy I was supposed to be confessing to. But she grabbed the hem of my shirt, stopping me. Her usually rosy cheeks were pale. She frantically tried to push Caleb toward me, her voice trembling with unshed tears. “Chloe, let Caleb talk to you…” Caleb just grabbed her hand, his voice a low murmur. “What are you doing? Trying to give your new boyfriend away already?” Lily stubbornly held onto my shirt, not letting go. But she didn’t pull her hand from Caleb’s, either. The three of us were frozen in a horrible tableau. Seeing the tears welling in Lily’s eyes, Caleb’s expression darkened. He turned on me. “Who told you to come here?” “Can’t you see I’m busy?” I had traveled all night, my heart a nervous wreck, only to be met with his icy dismissal. The words I had rehearsed died in my throat. I pulled my shirt from Lily’s grasp, ready to just disappear. But then a calm, cool voice cut through the tension. “I did. Is there a problem?” A tall figure appeared a short distance away. He lazily lifted his gaze to meet mine. “You can’t even deliver a gift to the right person. Get over here.” 3 I never expected to see Liam Hale again in a situation like this. The last time we’d met was three years ago, when Liam, as our school’s valedictorian, gave a speech at graduation. When I went to hand him his award, I tripped on the stage runner and sent both myself and the trophy flying. After that, he and Caleb had gone to the same university. They’d even become roommates. It seemed like every time I saw him, I was making a complete fool of myself. Caleb looked annoyed. “Liam, stay out of this.” “Just let her go back to wherever she came from.” Liam just let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Are you confused about something?” “My girlfriend brought me a cake. What business is it of yours?” And just like that, I ended up at Caleb’s birthday party that night as Liam’s “girlfriend.” The atmosphere was… awkward. Lily kept staring at me, forgetting to eat. “Why are you looking at her?” Caleb frowned. “Eat up. Don’t worry, no one’s going to hurt you.” Something inside me finally snapped. I stared directly at Caleb. “Make it clear. How exactly am I hurting her?” Caleb’s face hardened, but he said nothing. I turned to Lily. “Are you afraid of me? Did you do something to feel guilty about?” Lily just shook her head, whispering, “No.” Liam slid a glass of watermelon juice in front of me. “If she’s this fragile, you probably shouldn’t take her out in public,” he said, his voice light. He then grabbed a handful of pistachios. “Shell these quietly. You might scare her to death.” A few people at the table snorted, trying to stifle their laughter. Lily’s face flushed. She mumbled an excuse about needing the restroom and fled. Later that evening, exhausted and sleepy, I decided to leave early. I saw Liam step out to take a call and followed him. I wanted to thank him. I’d come all this way, and at my most vulnerable moment, he’d saved me. The hallway was dimly lit. Liam was at the far end, his voice low and cool, echoing slightly in the empty space. I realized then that he was the Student Body President. He had another commitment tonight but had postponed it for this party. I waited a few feet away for him to finish his call. When he saw me, he paused. “I’ll call you back.” He hung up and turned to me. “What’s up?” “Tonight… thank you.” Liam leaned against the windowsill, just watching me. Just when I was starting to think I had something on my face, he asked, “Want to go to the amusement park tomorrow?” “With you?” “Who else?” he asked, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Didn’t you post about wanting to go? You shouldn’t come all this way for nothing.” The wind from the open window stirred his dark hair, the hem of his white shirt fluttering. The casual way he looked at me made all the hurt I’d been suppressing bubble to the surface. I quickly looked down, wiping my eyes. “Thanks. I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow, then.” Liam was quiet for a long moment. I thought he was going to make fun of me for being a crybaby, but instead, he drew out the words slowly, “Alright, girlfriend.” 4 Liam had to leave early for his student government meeting. When I came out of the restroom, I ran into Lily. There was a fresh bite mark on her lip. The second she saw me, the tears started falling. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I never meant for any of this to happen. Can you please forgive me?” I just felt sick. I pushed her hand away and took out my phone. “How much was the hotel room? I’ll transfer you the money.” Lily froze. “Chloe… I’m sorry. I forgot to book you a hotel.” Her voice sounded distant, like it was coming from underwater. I thought I must have misheard. Was this really the best friend I had trusted completely? She had insisted on booking the hotel for me, telling me to just worry about getting here. And now this. “Lily, you did this on purpose, didn’t you?” “I’m sorry,” she said, looking pained. “All the rooms near campus were booked, and Caleb was being so persistent… I just forgot. You can stay in my dorm tonight, if you want?” I didn’t want to hear any more. I turned to leave. But she grabbed my arm. “Chloe, wait. Liam has a girl he likes. He… he was just helping you out tonight. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and get hurt again.” I looked at her, at this carefully crafted, innocent victim act, and I was just done. I yanked my arm free. Lily, caught off guard, stumbled and fell to the floor with a dramatic, “delicate” thud. A sarcastic smile twisted my lips. “What, are you a mind reader now? You know what Liam is thinking?” Lily kept her head down, but her breathing was suddenly ragged. Caleb appeared out of nowhere, shoving me aside to help her up. “Does that cake you brought have mango in it?” he demanded. I just stared at him coldly. His anger flared. “Don’t you know Lily’s allergic to mangoes? Are you trying to kill her?” For the first time, I noticed the purplish tint to Lily’s lips. I knew she was allergic. But the mangoes… Lily was the one who told me to add them. “It’s Caleb’s favorite,” she’d said. 5 At one in the morning, Lily was admitted to the university hospital. The doctor sighed. “If you know you’re allergic, why would you eat it? Do you have a death wish?” Caleb whipped his head around, his face dark as he glared at me. “She’s in there because of you. Are you happy now?” I took a deep breath. “Caleb, are you an idiot?” I shot back. “Lily knew there were mangoes in that cake. She’s the one who couldn’t control herself. What does that have to do with me?” His gaze turned to ice. “Stop pretending, Chloe.” “Don’t think I don’t know why you really came here.” “Does it bother you that much that she and I are together? Did you have to bring a poisoned cake just to hurt her?” Looking at this man, so blind and unfair, I felt a sharp, clear pang of regret. Regret for all the times he’d stayed after school to tutor me in math. Regret for when he’d encouraged me to apply to the same university. Regret for when he’d joked about how lost I’d be without him. I shouldn’t have ever thought he liked me. I hadn’t slept in over a day. The exhaustion was making my heart pound erratically. I closed my eyes for a second, then took out my phone and dialed 911 without a second thought. Just before the call connected, Caleb snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it on the floor. “Enough! How long are you going to keep this up?” I stared at the shattered phone, then slowly crouched down and began to pick up the pieces. Then, I stood up and threw them all in his face. I had a crush on him for seven years. That didn’t mean I didn’t have any pride. “Doctor,” I said, my voice shaking. “Could you please call the police for me?” I was at my limit. Black spots danced in my vision. As I started to fall backward, a pair of strong hands caught me, steadying me. The clean scent of soap and mint filled my senses. Liam’s cool, clear voice came from above me. “She didn’t eat much for dinner. It’s probably low blood sugar. Doctor, could you please take a look at her?” Through the haze of my fading consciousness, I thought I heard him dialing a number. His voice was a distant, cold murmur. “Hello, I’d like to report an incident.” 6 The doctor gave me a glucose packet, and the world slowly came back into focus. Liam had finished his call and was now staring at Lily with a flat, unreadable expression. Lily flinched and burrowed deeper into Caleb’s arms. “I… I only had a little taste. The cake was just sitting there, it was meant to be eaten.” “The doctor seems to think you had more than just a little taste,” Liam said, his face impassive. “I think it’s best if we get the security footage and clear this all up with the police.” I knew from high school that Lily was terrified of authority. Just seeing a cop on the street made her walk funny. Now, with the police actually on their way, she was frozen to the spot. I explained everything, from start to finish. The officer pointed to the security footage on his monitor, which clearly showed Lily eating three large slices of the cake. “You knew you were allergic, and you ate three pieces? You couldn’t taste the giant mango filling?” Lily was pale with fear. All she could do was apologize over and over. “I’m sorry… I just have a sweet tooth. It won’t happen again.” She hung her head, silent tears tracking down her cheeks. Caleb, of course, softened. “Alright, just try to control yourself next time.” His tone was a world away from the venom he’d directed at me. Lily’s eyes reddened, and she was about to lean on him for comfort. But I took Liam’s phone and held up the payment app’s QR code to Caleb. “Lily ate my cake, and you broke my phone. In front of a police officer and a doctor, it’s time to pay up.” Liam, suddenly brought into it, chimed in smoothly, “I can confirm. My girlfriend has indeed suffered a financial loss.” Caleb’s face was a mask of thunder. “Chloe, are you really going to be like this with me?” “You told me to get lost. Should I be thanking you for smashing my phone?” With the police present, Caleb quickly transferred the money. But as he watched Liam help me out of the hospital, his expression turned dark and stormy. 7 I walked out of the hospital and down a small alley, my pace getting faster and faster. When I turned a corner onto an empty street, I finally collapsed, crouching down and burying my face in my knees. The summer night was silent. A sea of purple lilacs spilled through the bars of an old, wrought-iron fence from a nearby apartment complex. A breeze rustled through them, sending petals drifting to the ground. The streetlight was dim, casting only two shadows on the pavement. Mine, crumpled on the ground. And Liam’s, standing a few feet away. “It’s okay,” he said. “Go ahead and cry. I won’t tell anyone.” The dam broke. A sob tore from my throat, echoing through the empty street, lost in the scent of the lilacs. Before I came here, I had prepared myself. Rejection was fine. At least I would have Lily. On the bus ride, we had chatted excitedly about everything—food, sights to see, which bar we’d hit if the confession was a disaster. But in the span of a single day, I’d been humiliated by Caleb and betrayed by Lily. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Liam stood a short distance behind me, giving me space, shielding me from view. After a long time, I finally stood up, my eyes swollen. “Thank you, for today.” Liam didn’t look at me. He was staring at his phone, his voice casual. “It’s three hours till sunrise. Get some sleep. We can do the amusement park the day after tomorrow, okay?” “Okay,” I croaked. Just then, a police car pulled up beside us. The window rolled down, and the officer inside greeted Liam like an old friend. “Liam, this is your friend?” “Yeah,” Liam said. “She couldn’t get a hotel. My aunt said she could stay at her place tonight. Could you give her a ride?” “Sure thing. Hop in.” Seeing my confused expression, Liam explained quietly, “My uncle. I figured you’d feel safer if he was the one to drive you.” It clicked. He was worried I wouldn’t trust him. So he had his police officer uncle take me to a safe place for the night. I opened my mouth, but I’d already said “thank you” too many times tonight. So I said something else instead. “The day after tomorrow… I’m buying you dinner.” Liam smiled, as if he knew what I’d been thinking. “You already said that, too.” He opened the car door for me, saving me from my embarrassment. “Alright, see you in two days.” The door closed. Before I could say goodbye, his figure was already shrinking in the distance, a dark silhouette against the fading streetlights. 8 I never would have guessed that Liam’s aunt lived in the residential quarters right next to the police station. I felt so safe that I slept for a full day and night. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw a text from Liam. “Text me when you’re awake.” I stared at the message for a moment, then shot out of bed. I had a date with Liam at the amusement park, and I was going to be late. I rushed to the park, arriving out of breath. Liam was sitting on a park bench, his long legs stretched out in front of him, looking relaxed and at ease. Sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling him in gold. “When did you get here?” I panted. He placed a sunhat on my head, his voice laced with a smile. “Just now. Not too early, not too late, girlfriend.” Then, he casually took my hand. My entire body went rigid. Liam leaned in close, whispering, “Don’t look now. Caleb’s behind us.” Sure enough, I heard Lily’s voice. I cursed my luck. Why did they have to be everywhere? I deliberately leaned closer to Liam, pressing against his arm. “Let’s go to the haunted house.” Lily was a coward. She’d avoid a place like that. But as the park attendant was sorting us into groups, I saw her, clinging to Caleb’s arm, walking right in. “Chloe, I was calling you… you didn’t hear me.” Caleb’s gaze lingered on my and Liam’s clasped hands for a second before he looked away, his expression cold. He said to Liam, “Wanna team up?” Liam looked at me. “I don’t mind,” I said. So, of course, Liam didn’t mind either. The four of us were sent down the same path. The moment we stepped inside, the world went dark. Lily immediately shrank into Caleb’s arms. “Caleb, I’m so scared.” Honestly, so was I. But I was too proud to cling to Liam. I just gripped his hand tightly, my steps quick and nervous. Sensing the sweat on my palm, Liam squeezed my hand. “Slow down. We’ll get out.” I nodded, but a cold draft on the back of my neck made me hurry anyway. Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream from Lily echoed from around a corner. I jumped, and Liam pulled me back, into his arms. The chilling cold vanished, replaced by the solid warmth of his body. “Shh…” His warm breath grazed my ear. I think his lips might have brushed against my skin. “The ‘ghost’ is over there. You almost ran right into him.” Lily was sobbing hysterically now. I forgot all about being proper and just clung to Liam’s waist. “Don’t let him come over here, please, don’t let him come over here…” I think Liam might have chuckled. “Okay.” The sound of rattling chains seemed to be getting closer. Liam gently pressed my head against his chest and said to the actor, “Hey man, can you give us a break? My girlfriend’s a little scared.” The actor let out a frustrated roar, then dragged his chains away, muttering under his breath. Even after he was gone, Liam didn’t let go. I could hear the frantic beating of both our hearts, mingled with our soft, warm breaths. I finally realized how close we were. “Can you walk?” Liam’s voice was a low murmur, almost a whisper. My face was burning. I started to let go. “I’m sorry… I…” He tightened his grip. “Nothing to be sorry about.” His words were like a feather, settling gently on my heart. His palm felt impossibly hot against mine. I looked up and met Caleb’s eyes across the narrow passage. His expression was dark, unreadable. Then he looked away. The rest of the way, the actors left us alone, but Lily’s screams continued to punctuate the darkness. Liam led me out, shaken but unscathed. I had some dust on my arm, so I went to the restroom to clean up. Lily followed me in. “Chloe, why have you been ignoring me?” In the bright light of the restroom, I saw that she had dressed up today, wearing a cute, photo-ready dress. She was looking at me with big, wounded eyes. I dried my hands and turned to leave. Suddenly, her voice rose. “Chloe, were we ever really friends?” “I thought you would be happy for us.” That hit a nerve. I turned back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lily, have you lost your mind?” She looked stung. “I know you have a crush on Caleb, but you didn’t get into the same university as us! I had to watch him for you every day. Of course I was going to fall for him…” “Then why did you push me to confess?” “Because I couldn’t hold my feelings in anymore! I never meant for us to get together, but he just came over and kissed me, and you know I can’t say no—” “Enough!” I cut her off. “You’re innocent, you’re weak, you can’t say no when someone confesses to you, you can’t resist a piece of cake you know will hurt you. And in the end, I’m the one who has to deal with the consequences. How dare you ask me to be your friend?” Lily just stared at me, her eyes red, silent. We heard Caleb’s voice from outside. “Lily, are you ready?” She wiped her tears and whispered, “It’s all my fault. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll break up with him, okay?” Then she pushed the door open and ran out.

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Isabelle Croft had always been the queen of our campus, an ice princess enthroned, and I was the only one she ever let into her frozen kingdom. But then the new transfer, Caleb Ryder, arrived. He started engineering “chance” encounters, a constant, smirking presence in her orbit. Everyone whispered that the new flame could never outshine the lifelong friend, that Caleb’s little stunts were a waste of time. A story as old as time. They were wrong. It all shattered the night a man with a grudge against the Croft empire slipped past campus security and took Caleb hostage. In that moment, Isabelle’s composure finally broke. She didn’t hesitate. She threw herself in front of Caleb, taking the knife that was meant for him. Even as she lay bleeding, her life fading, she just caressed Caleb’s face. “As long as you’re okay…” she whispered. I stood on the edge of the crowd, the world’s biggest fool, a punchline for a joke I never knew I was a part of. Later, in the sterile silence of the hospital room, Isabelle was a mess of tubes and monitors. She struggled to speak, her voice a dry rasp, but her words were for me. “I don’t want to owe him anything,” she said. “Leave him alone.” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. This twisted little drama of love and hate belonged to them now. I had no part to play. The moment that man chose Caleb as the perfect leverage against her, my own irrelevance became blindingly clear. Fine. I’m out. 1 I had just finalized the last of my paperwork to study abroad when Isabelle walked in. Her eyes fell on the passport and the crisp visa documents on the table, and a flicker of confusion crossed her face. “I thought we were doing this together.” It took me a beat to realize she was talking about the European trip we’d planned for the summer. A lifetime ago. This was not a tourist visa. I gathered the documents, my movements slow and deliberate, and shook my head. A practiced, placating smile touched her lips. “I didn’t forget, Leo,” she cooed. “It’s just… Caleb’s cast isn’t even off yet.” Caleb Ryder. When Isabelle had shoved him out of the way of the knife, he’d stumbled and fractured his tibia. “We’ll go as soon as he’s fully healed, okay? I promise.” “It doesn’t matter anymore, Isabelle. My plans have nothing to do with you.” The smile vanished. “Leo, I know you’re angry. But I told you, I just didn’t want to be indebted to him.” Her voice took on a sharper edge. “Besides, you waited months to do this, long after I was out of the hospital. You were obviously waiting for me. Don’t pretend this isn’t about us.” A dull ache pulsed in my chest. She thought I’d been waiting for her. The truth was, I’d submitted my applications the same night she’d taken that knife for him. The bureaucracy was slow, but she saw the delay as proof of her power over me, another reason to take my devotion for granted. I suppose I’d enabled it. For years, my love for her had been unconditional, a quiet, steady force she’d learned to treat as a natural resource. “I just didn’t want him to get hurt because of me,” she continued, her tone shifting from placating to the cool, detached logic she was known for. “It wasn’t about humiliating you.” “But you’re still sulking,” she said, the warmth gone completely. “You’ve been giving me the silent treatment for months. It makes things awkward for me and Caleb. I have to endure all the gossip and stares just to have a conversation with you.” She paused, her gaze unwavering. “I think you need a little reminder.” Her hand went to her phone. She stared right at me as she dialed, her voice perfectly calm. “Mr. Davison? I need you to terminate Leo’s father. Effective immediately.” My jaw went slack. My blood ran cold. She put the call on speaker. The hesitant voice of her father’s Senior VP came through the phone. “Ms. Croft, with all due respect, his father has been with us for nearly a decade. He’s a senior manager… and besides, I thought he and your son, Leo…” Isabelle cut him off, her voice like ice. “I said now, Mr. Davison. Right now.” Less than three minutes later, a text from my dad lit up my screen. Son, did you do something to upset Isabelle? A second later, the message was deleted. My fists clenched. My entire body hummed with a rage I couldn’t voice. Our family’s company went under ten years ago. Isabelle’s father had given my dad a position, a lifeline that kept us afloat. But before all that, before the bankruptcy, it was my father’s mentorship that had helped build the Croft empire in the first place. This wasn’t just business. This was a deliberate, cruel severing of ties, a middle finger to decades of shared history. I forced the words through my teeth. “Isabelle, have you even considered what our parents will think about this?” She was unmoved. “Why should I care? It’s not like you’ll starve. You can always come live with me. I’ll take care of you.” The condescension in her voice made my stomach turn. She knew. She knew how much I’d always hated the rumors that painted me as her follower, her glorified assistant. Ignoring my fury, she reached out, her fingers gently smoothing the crease between my brows. “Don’t be angry,” she murmured, her voice softening into a familiar, intimate whisper. “It makes you look ugly.” It was so casual, so disarmingly familiar, like a scene from a life before Caleb Ryder ever existed. A life where there were no cracks in our foundation, where she’d sketch out our future with a seriousness that belied a secret, childlike innocence—a side of her no one else ever saw. But someone else saw it now. I pulled my head back. Her hand froze in mid-air. A slow, chilling smile spread across her face, as if she’d just discovered a fascinating new game. “Leo,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush, “do you have any idea how much… when you’re angry like this…” She leaned closer. “You look just like Caleb.” 2 Screech. The sound of my chair scraping against the floor cut through the quiet cafe. I ignored the heads that turned in our direction, my gaze locked on her, cold and final. “Take care of yourself, Isabelle.” Without another word, I gathered my papers and walked out, leaving her sitting there. I didn’t look back, but I felt her eyes on me. A few seconds later, I heard her own chair move, and she stormed off in the opposite direction. Back at my apartment, an anonymous email was waiting for me. I opened it without surprise. Just as I’d expected, it was a message from my mysterious benefactor, offering a list of executive-level job openings for my father. This had been happening for months. When I first started the process of applying to schools abroad, this person had offered to handle everything. I’d refused, yet every step of the way—from transcripts to recommendations—had felt suspiciously smooth. They seemed to know everything about me, materializing with a solution every time I hit a snag. I’d tried to trace the source, but it was like chasing a ghost. As usual, I typed a polite refusal. A moment later, a formal invitation to the Croft family’s annual gala appeared in my inbox. A message from Isabelle’s father. I decided to go. It was time to sever this last tie, cleanly and for good. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Caleb Ryder there, preening in a bespoke suit from Isabelle’s private designer label. Her favor had turned him into the evening’s mystery guest, the man everyone was whispering about. I kept my distance, but he sought me out, a smirk playing on his lips as he raised his glass. “Still giving Isabelle the cold shoulder? Take some friendly advice, man. Don’t overestimate your importance.” He leaned in, his voice dropping. “After all those years you spent playing the perfect gentleman, who do you think was the one to finally get her to let go?” He loosened his tie, tilting his neck to the side. A constellation of hickeys, new and old, dotted his skin. It was impossible to count how many times she’d been with him. I closed my eyes for a second, then turned to walk away. He threw an arm around my shoulder, stepping in front of me again, his voice a greasy whisper. “She’s a wildcat in bed, you know. All that ice just melts. I bet you never even got close, did you? Too busy being the good little boy.” He laughed. “Once she got a taste of a real man, she was begging me for more.” That was it. I snapped. My fist connected with his face in a single, satisfying crack. “Keep the details of your sordid little affair to yourself.” The commotion drew every eye in the room. Caleb staggered back, blood trickling from his nose, his moment of glory shattered. I took a step back, gave a brief, apologetic nod to Isabelle’s father across the room, and headed for the exit. I’d barely made it to the lobby when Isabelle caught up to me, her face a mask of fury. “Leo, you’ve gone too far! I want you to go back in there right now and apologize to Caleb in front of everyone!” My voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. “By telling him to stop broadcasting your private life to the entire world? Was I wrong?” I let my gaze drift down to her collarbone, where a faint red mark peeked out from the edge of her gown. Her eyes widened in surprise. “You knew?” She stared at me, a strange look of disbelief on her face. “Why aren’t you angry?” Of course. In her world, I was a fixed star, destined to revolve around her forever. My indifference was a disruption of the natural order. She couldn’t comprehend it. “Oh, I get it,” she said, a confident smirk returning to her lips. “This is your new strategy, isn’t it? Trying to get my attention by pretending you don’t care.” I took another step back, putting more space between us. Seeing this, she switched tactics instantly, her entire demeanor softening. She closed the distance between us, her movements slinking and playful as she draped her arms around my neck. “Oh, come on, Leo… don’t be like this…” The cluster of hickeys on her neck was right there, impossible to ignore, a vulgar tattoo against her pale skin. Her red lips, parted and glistening, moved as she spoke. A wave of nausea washed over me. I shoved her away, doubling over as my stomach churned, and vomited onto the pristine marble floor. Isabelle’s face flushed as if I’d slapped her. Her voice was sharp with rage and humiliation. “What the hell, Leo? Don’t you dare stand there and pretend you’re so pure! I know you’ve wanted me for years!” I wiped my mouth, the bitter taste of bile coating my tongue. I forced myself to look at her and managed to choke out a single word. “Filthy.” The color drained from her face. That one word stripped her of every last shred of dignity. Her eyes narrowed, filled with a cold, venomous promise. “Fine,” she hissed. “You remember what you did tonight, Leo. I’m going to make you regret it.” 3 She had tried to placate me, to charm her way back into my good graces, and I had thrown it all back in her face. Her patience had finally reached its limit. I didn’t give much thought to how she planned to make me “regret it.” I should have. The next day at the university, I walked into class and was hit by a wall of stench. My desk was overflowing with rotting garbage. Students nearby pinched their noses, shooting me looks of disgust. The whispers followed me. “Guess Leo’s not the golden boy anymore. Looks like Caleb is the real deal.” “Yeah, Isabelle would never do something like this to someone she actually cared about.” “I heard she told everyone not to help him. He’s going to be totally ostracized.” “Serves him right. He was always just her shadow anyway. It’s not like he has any other friends.” An involuntary tremor ran through me. She was using my own trauma against me. After my family went bankrupt, this was my life. The social ruin, the isolation, the constant, petty acts of cruelty from people who suddenly saw me as less than human. Back then, Isabelle had been my shield. She’d stood in front of me, a small, fierce protector against the world. And now… she was the one orchestrating the attack, using the very wounds she’d once healed as a weapon. Had she forgotten? Or did she simply not care anymore? I fought to steady my breathing, telling myself to stay calm. I was about to start clearing the mess when Caleb Ryder and a group of his cronies from the football team burst into the room. “Leo,” he said, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “Isabelle asked me to deliver a little gift.” I froze, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. Without another word, Caleb nodded to his friends. Two of them, built like linemen, grabbed me. I struggled, landing a solid punch on one of them, but I was outnumbered and overpowered. Caleb leaned in close, holding up his phone. A live video was playing. The subject was my father. My pupils contracted. “What are you doing?!” I roared. On the screen, my dad was at the wheel of his car. The camera shook violently, and the car swerved, hitting a concrete barrier. Before he could even unbuckle his seatbelt, a burly man with menacing tattoos covering his arms yanked him out of the car. Caleb’s voice was a gleeful whisper in my ear. “I just mentioned to Isabelle that my jaw still hurt from your punch. She was more than happy to tell me exactly where your weak spots were.” Just then, Isabelle herself walked into the classroom. She saw me being restrained, but her only concern was for Caleb. “Feeling better now?” she asked him softly. Every muscle in my body strained, veins popping on my neck. “Isabelle!” I snarled, the name a curse. She finally looked at me, her expression cold as stone. “You hit my boyfriend at my family’s gala. That’s the same as hitting me. Humiliating me.” She shrugged. “Your father loses a leg. Caleb lost face. It seems like a fair trade.” Caleb, basking in her defense, smirked at me and spoke into his phone. “Do it.” “NO!” With a surge of pure adrenaline, I threw the two men off me and lunged for the phone. But I was too late. I saw it all. The man on the other end of the call lifted a heavy iron pipe and, without a moment’s hesitation, brought it down on my father’s leg. The sickening crack of bone and my father’s agonized scream hit me at the same time. My world tilted. I stumbled, nearly collapsing. Isabelle’s face paled slightly. She rushed forward to steady me, but her words were utterly devoid of compassion. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like it happened to you.” It felt like a hand was crushing my heart. She knew. She knew my dad and I had been a team, just the two of us, since I was a kid. She knew how he’d worked himself to the bone to build a life for us, only to lose it all. She remembered how she’d been the one to comfort me, to fight for me, when everyone else had turned their backs. Back then, I thought we had a bond that could never be broken. How ironic. When the love died, it didn’t just disappear. It twisted, metastasizing into a weapon she now aimed not just at me, but at the only family I had left. Something inside me snapped. I launched myself forward, kicking Caleb square in the chest and sending him sprawling. Before anyone could react, I brought my heel down hard on his uninjured leg. Not satisfied, I grabbed a broken chair leg from the corner and began bringing it down on his leg again, and again, and again. The room was filled with the sounds of my ragged breaths and the wet thud of wood against flesh. The other students were frozen, staring in horrified silence. “Leo, stop!” Isabelle, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fury, threw herself in front of Caleb, shielding him with her body. The chair leg connected with her arm. She cried out in pain. A chilling cold washed over me. She was protecting him. Just like I had once protected her. Caleb pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. “Isabelle, why would you do that?!” But she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were locked on me. “Are we even now, Leo?” she asked, her voice strained. I gripped the makeshift club, my knuckles white. I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. “If this makes you feel better,” she gasped, “then you have to promise to leave Caleb alone from now on.” I stared at her, incredulous. The man she was protecting had just ordered my father’s leg to be broken. His own injuries were superficial at best. And she was asking me to call it even? “Leo, I don’t want you to live with so much hatred in your heart. It will destroy you.” Caleb, clutching his leg, glared at me with pure venom. “The one who can’t let go of a grudge is him, Isabelle,” I bit out. “I was just returning the favor. You should be saying that to him!” Her face twisted in disbelief. “I already told you! Your father’s injury was payback for you hitting Caleb in public! That doesn’t give you the right to attack him like this!” A wild, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I was done talking. I shoved her aside, grabbed a whole chair this time, and brought it down towards Caleb. Today, he was going to learn what regret really felted like.

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For three months, I practically lived at the office while pregnant, pushing my team to the brink. We survived on IV drips and held meetings at midnight. But on signing day, my new assistant used security footage of my bathroom breaks to fire me for “slacking off.” I brought the termination to my husband, the CEO. He coldly cited company policy—a five-break daily limit—and backed her decision to maintain her authority. “Now you can focus on the baby,” he said. I spotted lace lingerie with snowflake embroidery under his sofa. A bitter laugh escaped me. I tossed the notice on his desk, walked out, and called our biggest competitor. “Do you limit bathroom breaks?” I asked. “If not, I’ll be in your office tomorrow with a new client to sign.” 1. “Elara, are you messing with me?” On the other end of the line, Marcus Thorne’s voice was laced with disbelief. “I’m not joking,” I said calmly. “If you agree, I’m bringing the Sterling Group account with me. We sign tomorrow. Once it’s done, your company will be the biggest player in Northgate City.” Marcus hesitated. “Did you and Leo have a fight? Are you just using me to make him angry?” He continued, his voice softening. “Everyone in the industry knows you’re the engine of that company. You’re the one who carries all the weight for Leo.” “You sold the apartment your parents left you so that kid from nowhere could start his business. You’ve landed every major deal they’ve ever had.” “For the Sterling account, you worked yourself so sick you were fainting from morning sickness. Your team wanted to take you to the ER, but you refused because you were afraid of delaying the signing. You just…” I froze, wondering how he knew all that. As he finished, a bitter smile touched my lips. He was right. Everyone knew how much I’d sacrificed for Leo. I once believed we were building an empire together, from scratch. Today, that beautiful dream was shattered. Leo and I had no connections, just two kids from a small town with big dreams, fighting our way to the top in the big city. We started with nothing and finally, painstakingly, built our own company. Six months ago, I told him I was pregnant. His hands were shaking with excitement. But when I suggested we finally make it official and get married, he fell silent for a long time. “Elara,” he finally said, “once we land the Sterling Group contract, we’ll be the industry leader. Our dream of making it in this city will finally be real.” “Don’t you want to walk down the aisle at the height of our success?” “Let’s just wait until the Sterling contract is signed. Then we’ll get married, okay?” I agreed. Yesterday, Sterling confirmed. The signing was scheduled. I was so overwhelmed with joy that I stepped out of the office and promptly fainted on the sidewalk. I was rushed to the hospital. The moment I woke up, I hurried back to the office to finalize the contract. But my key card wouldn’t work. Facial recognition failed. I’d been blacklisted. I managed to get a friendly intern to let me in, only to find all my personal effects dumped in a trash heap. My wedding photo with Leo was covered in muddy footprints, my smiling face scribbled over with a black marker. And sitting at my desk, my desk, was the new assistant—Crystal Snow. She was scrolling through her phone, her long, red nails tapping the screen. She pulled up a video file: three months of security footage of me going to the bathroom. “New company rule,” she said with a smirk. “No more than five bathroom breaks per shift, five minutes max each time.” “You’ve been going more than ten times a day. Who knows if you were actually working or just slacking off.” “If everyone behaved like you, how would this company function?” I was baffled. Since when was this a rule? I went straight to Leo’s office and told him everything. He was dismissive. “I hired Crystal from a top-tier firm for a reason. Her rules are based on their best practices. Of course, we have to follow them.” I fought to keep my voice even. I told him I was pregnant, that the stress and workload were making my morning sickness unbearable, that the bathroom trips were a necessity. He waved his hand impatiently. “That’s just your weak constitution. Don’t use it as an excuse.” “Maybe I make an exception for your morning sickness today. But what about tomorrow? What’s to stop anyone from faking a stomach ache after slacking off in the bathroom, demanding I look the other way? How am I supposed to manage that?” My face flushed with anger, my eyes stinging with tears. In his eyes, my pregnancy was no different from a case of diarrhea. Before I could argue further, Crystal walked in, phone in hand. “Elara,” she said, her tone dripping with false sympathy, “the new policy is to streamline our workforce. That means pregnant employees are the first to go. I was trying to do you a favor by not firing you outright, given your relationship with Leo.” “But you’ve broken the rules too many times. If I don’t act, no one will take me seriously. How can I lead the team?” She looked me up and down. “Besides, you’re a high-risk pregnancy. You should be at home resting. Running to the bathroom all day to goof off not only kills productivity, it makes the whole company look unprofessional.” I stared at her, my voice cold. “My pregnancy and my bathroom trips didn’t stop me from landing the Sterling contract for this company.” “And I’m the Vice President. No new rule should be implemented without my approval.” Her eyes welled up with tears. Leo slammed his hand on the desk. “That’s enough!” He saw the shock and hurt in my eyes and his scowl deepened. “This rule came from me. If you have a problem, take it up with me. You’re fired. Stop pulling rank on her.” “And don’t you dare use that contract as leverage,” he snarled. “Crystal told me everything. You were in the bathroom all day while the rest of the team did your work for you.” “If being pregnant and working is so stressful that you have to hide in the bathroom, then Crystal firing you so you can rest at home is a favor! You should be thanking her, not bullying her in front of her direct supervisor!” His jaw tightened. “Now, apologize to Crystal.” Apologize? I took a long, hard look at this man, my partner of ten years, from college dorms to the corporate world. I remembered when a key developer challenged my authority, simply because I was a woman. Leo, without a second thought, fired him on the spot, disregarding the critical tech the man controlled. He held my hand in front of the entire company and said, “Elara is my wife, and she is my partner. Disrespecting her is disrespecting me. And this company has no place for anyone who disrespects women.” That speech went viral. We were lauded as the best startup of the year. That was only a year ago. Now, he was letting some new assistant disrespect me, discriminate against me for being pregnant. I took a deep breath, ready to unleash a decade of fury, when my eyes caught it again. The lace underwear under the sofa cushion. The tiny, embroidered snowflakes. It wasn’t mine. A wave of nausea and disgust washed over me. I stumbled, and as I looked up, I saw Crystal watching me with a look of pure triumph. It was hers. Suddenly, all the words caught in my throat felt meaningless. I pulled my employee ID from my pocket and tossed it onto the sofa. “You want to fire me? Fine. As per my contract, a severance of 2N+1. If that money isn’t in my account by tonight, I have no problem taking this to arbitration. We’ll see who’s embarrassed and paying fines then.” “And one more thing,” I added, my voice ringing with cold finality. “I landed that project. You fire me, you can kiss the Sterling Group goodbye.” I watched the color drain from their faces, then turned and walked out with a scornful laugh. The first thing I did was call Marcus. They could have their sordid affair. They were not getting the project I bled for. Marcus’s voice came back over the line, firm and resolute. “I don’t care if you’re using me to get back at him. I’m taking this seriously. You come to my company, the VP position is yours. And if you’re worried about managing work with the baby, I’ll help you.” “That won’t be necessary,” I said with a small smile. For some reason, his voice seemed to drop a little at my answer. “Alright. See you at the signing tomorrow.” I hung up and went home to pack. Thank God we never got married. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with a divorce. But the baby… I placed a hand on my belly. After a moment, my gaze hardened. Better to have no father than to have one like Leo. I started packing as soon as I got home. In the corner of our study was a storage box with a note taped to it: “Leo’s Treasures – Do Not Touch.” It was the box where he kept every gift I’d ever given him, even used mugs and hair ties. “One day,” he’d said, “we’ll show all of this to our son. Proof of our love story.” I wanted a clean break, but seeing that box made my heart ache. I opened it. And I froze. It wasn’t filled with my old things. It was a sordid collection of toys, lubricants, and scraps of fetish lingerie. My head exploded. On the desk, Leo’s laptop was open. His chat with Crystal was still on the screen, new messages popping up: “Of course I defended you. If you hadn’t been here to help me… de-stress… these past few months, I would have lost my mind.” “Wear the bunny costume tonight. A little pre-celebration for the signing tomorrow, okay?” My vision went black at the edges. Clenching my jaw, I transferred the entire chat history and all the videos to my phone. It wasn’t enough. My eyes landed on a bag of fresh peaches on the counter. I grabbed a handful and rubbed them vigorously all over the lingerie and toys in the box, making sure the microscopic fuzz got into every crevice. You two like to play? Then play hard. Just as I finished packing and was about to leave, the front door opened. Leo walked in. He saw my suitcase and froze, then broke into a grin. “What’s this? I say a few harsh words and you’re running away from home?” “I was just being professional. You’re my wife, so I have to be even stricter with you. It’s the only way to get the staff to respect the rules.” “Alright, stop sulking. I bought your favorite fish. We’re celebrating the signing tomorrow.” Before I could speak, Crystal waltzed in behind him. “Oh, sister-in-law, I don’t like it steamed. Make it spicy, okay?” “That’s right,” Leo chimed in. “Crystal likes bold flavors. Make it good.” He added, “Poor thing’s been working so hard she hasn’t eaten all day. Not like you, taking the day off to rest.” He tried to shove the bag of fish into my hands and push me toward the kitchen. My face went cold. I threw the fish back at him. “I’m not cooking.” His expression darkened instantly. He grabbed my arm. “What the hell is wrong with you? Has the pregnancy made you stupid? Don’t you understand basic courtesy?” “You embarrassed Crystal at the office today! I brought her here specifically so you could make her a nice dinner as an apology, and this is how you act?” “Leo, it’s okay,” Crystal interjected, the perfect martyr. “Elara’s carrying your child. It’s normal for her to be a little moody. I can handle it.” “Moody doesn’t give her the right to be a tyrant!” Her words only fueled his anger. He dragged me to the kitchen, shoved me inside, and locked the door. “You’re not coming out until you’ve cooked dinner!” I fell hard. A searing pain shot through my abdomen. A cold sweat broke out all over my body. I scrambled to the door, pounding on it with what little strength I had. “Leo! Let me out! My stomach… I fell… take me to the hospital…” I heard Crystal’s saccharine voice from the other side. “Leo, I think Elara’s just angry I’m here. She’s probably just using the baby to guilt you. Maybe I should just go?” The footsteps outside paused. Then, Leo’s voice, colder than ice: “I ask you to make one meal, and you threaten me with the baby’s safety? You’re being irrational.” I couldn’t tell what hurt more, my heart or my stomach. I just kept pleading, my voice growing weaker. “Fine. Don’t cook. Come on, Crystal. We’ll go to a Michelin-star restaurant.” “Oh, Leo, you’re the best~” The pain was so intense I could barely speak. “I’m not lying… It really… hurts…” The only response was the slam of the front door. My world went black. I woke up in a hospital room. And sitting by my bed was Marcus. He saw my eyes open and let out a huge sigh of relief. “I called you a dozen times, you didn’t pick up. I was terrified. I thought after your fight, Leo might have… done something. So I came to check on you.” “I found you passed out on the kitchen floor. The doctor said you just fell and bruised your stomach. The baby is okay.” I gave a weak, bitter smile. He wasn’t wrong. Leo had done something. I thanked him, my voice hoarse, and reached for my phone. I needed to contact the Sterling Group and let them know I was now with Marcus’s firm. But my screen was flooded with texts from Crystal. And a video. “Look at you, the washed-up housewife. So what if you’re carrying Leo’s baby? He still kicked you out and gave your job and your office to me.” “Leo told me he’s sick of you. All you do is work, work, work. No fun at all. And you stink now that you’re pregnant. He prefers someone young and fun like me. Hehe, maybe it won’t be long before I’m taking your place at home, too.” “Oh, and he said a housewife has no business being the project lead for Sterling. Don’t bother showing up to the signing tomorrow. I’ll go in your place. Save everyone from having to look at your bloated, pregnant body.” I stared at her taunts, my face a blank mask. Before I could even process my anger, Marcus exploded. “Who the hell does she think she is, talking to you like that!” He stared at me, his eyes red with fury. “And you’re not even angry? Do you really love him that much? Enough to let this… this trash walk all over you?” He looked away, his voice thick with emotion. “Elara, if I had a wife like you, I’d treat you like a queen. I would never, ever let anyone hurt you.” I calmly typed a reply to Crystal: “You can have the trash. You’re not touching my project.” I looked up at Marcus, confused. “What did you just say?” He gritted his teeth. “Nothing. I just said, I’m your boss now. They try to steal your project, I’ll destroy them.” I nodded. “Good.” The doctor warned that I needed complete bed rest, or I could lose the baby. I immediately requested three months of maternity leave from Marcus, to begin right after the signing. As I was leaving the maternity ward, I ran into a couple frantically scratching themselves, their skin covered in angry red welts. It was Leo and Crystal. When Leo saw me, his face went pale. He rushed toward me. “Elara, did you do something to my things in the study? What did you put in there? The doctor can’t find the allergen, we can’t stop itching!” I knew immediately. They’d used the peach-fuzzed lingerie. I feigned ignorance. “What things? Describe them to me. Maybe it’ll jog my memory.” His face cycled through shades of red and purple, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. I smirked and pulled out my phone, showing him the chat logs and the videos Crystal had sent me. “Oh, you mean this bunny costume? I was eating a peach yesterday. Some of the fuzz must have fallen on it by accident.” “You!” he hissed, his face livid. “You’re insane! You went through my laptop? You had someone film us? What are you trying to do?” He pointed a trembling, rash-covered finger at me. “You did this to us! I won’t let you get away with it! Get on your knees and apologize to me and Crystal right now! And sign the Sterling project over to her!” “Or the wedding is off, and you can be an unemployed single mother!” I looked at him, my expression cold, and dialed the wedding planner. “Yes, that’s right. The wedding is canceled.” I hung up and faced Leo’s apoplectic glare. “For the past ten years, I was blind,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I mistook a piece of trash like you for a treasure.” “But my eyes are open now. I’m happy to give you up and cancel the wedding. But there is no way in hell I’m handing over my clients and the Sterling contract I fought for tooth and nail.” I added softly, “You should probably start thinking about how you’re going to explain losing the Sterling deal to your investors. Oh, and don’t forget my severance pay.” I turned to leave, but Leo lunged forward, grabbing my arm. “I was wrong, Elara! You know how stressed I’ve been! And with you pregnant, I was afraid to touch you, I didn’t want to hurt the baby… I just… I couldn’t help myself…” His voice was a desperate, pleading whine. “We were drunk, it was an accident! She promised it wouldn’t affect us! We agreed it was just until you gave birth, then I’d be completely devoted to you and our child!” I pulled my lips into a sneer. “And you think I’d believe that?” I glanced at my phone. The signing was about to start. I looked up at the man I had loved for a decade. “Can’t we just part ways peacefully, Leo? I’m only taking what’s mine. I’m not trying to ruin your company.” His face was ashen. “But I don’t want to lose you,” he mumbled. “I never imagined losing you.” I gave him one last, deep look. “When you were doing all of this, did you ever once stop to think how much it would hurt me? If you had, even for a second, you would have known I’d leave you. You know my personality.” His lips moved, but before he could speak, I started walking away. He scrambled after me. “I was wrong! Elara, please! Give me one more chance! For our child’s sake! Just one chance! If you don’t want me seeing Crystal, I’ll pay her off, I’ll send her away!” “And you can come back to work! After the baby is born, I’ll create a new position for you…” I shook him off, my patience gone. Suddenly, a car screeched around the corner, heading straight for me. I had no time to react. The impact sent me flying. Pain exploded through my body. I hit the pavement hard. A pool of blood began to spread out from beneath me. My body convulsed in agony. I reached a trembling hand toward Leo. “Help me,” I choked out. “Save the baby.” Leo’s face was sheet-white. He started to move toward me, but then Crystal stumbled out of the driver’s seat, crying, and threw herself into his arms. “Leo, what do I do?” she wailed. “I saw you talking, and she was going to leave with the project… I was just so anxious, I wanted to follow her… I think I hit the gas instead of the brake!” “I don’t want to go to jail! Leo, please, help me!” I writhed on the ground, the pain unbearable. “Leo…” I begged him, my voice a broken whisper. “That’s your child… You can’t just let our baby die.” A flicker of conflict crossed his face. Then, his expression hardened. He took Crystal’s hand and turned to the police officer who was just arriving on the scene. “Officer, I’m her husband. We had an argument. She got upset and ran into the street. It wasn’t this young lady’s fault.” He then knelt beside me, his voice low and urgent. “The baby’s gone, Elara. We can’t ruin an innocent girl’s life over this.” “Think of this as compensation for forcing Crystal to leave. And since you can’t make it to the signing now, let me and Crystal handle it for you. We’ll sign the contract.” “After this, I promise, I’ll come home. I’ll be good to you.” “Leo!” I screamed, my eyes burning with hatred. “You bastard! You will regret this!” A paramedic tried to pull him away, urging him to sign the consent forms for my emergency treatment. But he was already helping Crystal up, turning his back on me. “Sorry, we have an important meeting. Just let her lie in the ER for a bit. I’ll be back to sign the papers later.” And with that, they got in another car and drove away. The pain finally consumed me, and I passed out. Crystal, dressed in a brand-new designer gown, walked into the Sterling Group’s conference room on Leo’s arm, her head held high. One of the Sterling executives looked around, confused. “Where’s Ms. Elara? I thought she was the project lead on this.” Leo answered calmly, “Elara was terminated for gross misconduct. Crystal will be taking over the project.” The executive was stunned. “What? You fired her? Who’s our point of contact then?” “Crystal, of course,” Leo said, looking at her with a doting smile. “We owe this success to Crystal. Her new policies streamlined our operations and optimized our staff, which is what allowed us to land this deal. With such a talented new project lead, I’m confident we’ll deliver even better results for Sterling.” Crystal puffed out her chest, her face flushed with victory. “That’s right. I won’t let Leo down. I’ll achieve even greater things than Elara ever did.” Across the table, the head of the Sterling delegation stood up, his face an icy mask. “I’m sorry, but we signed on for this project because of Ms. Elara, and Ms. Elara alone. If she is no longer with your company, then I see no reason to continue this partnership. The deal is off.”

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The stage buckled with a groan of tortured metal, and from the wings, my first instinct was to find Claire. But she was already moving, a blur of motion rushing not toward the chaos, but toward him. I was pinned beneath a fallen lighting rig, the weight crushing the air from my lungs, but my eyes were fixed on her. On Claire, my impossibly composed wife, losing all composure as she administered CPR to Leo. His voice, a fragile whisper, reached across the space between them. “Claire… do you still love me?” She didn’t answer, but her eyes welled up, a storm gathering in their cool gray depths. Her hands, the steady, unerring hands of a surgeon, were trembling. I closed my eyes, letting a single, hot tear trace a path through the dust on my cheek. Just this morning, I had asked her if she could come to my performance. She’d told me she had a surgery she couldn’t get out of. Claire, I thought, the sound of my own heart thundering in my ears. We’re done. 1 They wheeled me out of the operating room, and the surgeon’s eyes went straight to my legs. “Are you a pianist or a dancer?” he asked. “Pianist,” I managed. The tension in his shoulders eased. “Good. Your hands are fine. But the leg… it’s going to be a long road back.” I looked down at my hands, thankfully unscathed, then tried to move my legs. My right one was a dead weight, a stranger attached to my body. Later, as a nurse was changing my IV drip, I overheard her talking to a colleague. “That dancer in 30B, Leo Vance? I guess he and Dr. Allen are a thing.” “You didn’t see it? The way she carried him in? She’s ice-cold to every guy in this hospital, but yesterday, she looked like her world was ending. When those reporters got in her way, she screamed at them to move. I’ve never heard her raise her voice.” Claire. My Claire was a creature of quiet control. I’d rarely seen her truly laugh, and I’d certainly never seen her lose her temper. The nurse attending to me was gentle, her touch kind. She placed a warm compress on my arm where the needle went in. “The meds are cold, and it can ache if the drip is too fast,” she explained with a small smile. “This helps. Just press the call button if you see any swelling.” I nodded, mustering a weak smile in return. As she was leaving, she added with a sigh, “This is the first time Dr. Allen has ever taken a leave of absence. All to stay here and watch over him.” The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the silence. I picked up my phone and dialed Claire’s number. It rang and rang before she finally picked up. Before I could speak, her voice came through, cool and distant. “Ethan, I won’t be home for dinner.” A pause. “I have to scrub in for another surgery.” It was the first time she had ever called to update me on her schedule. And it was a lie. For the three years of our marriage, I was the one who chased, who sent a barrage of texts, who chattered endlessly in her presence, desperate for a crack in her perfect facade. Now I knew why the facade was there. The nurse had said she was on leave. Claire, who treated the hospital as her temple, who volunteered for every holiday shift, trading Christmas for New Year’s so her colleagues could be with their families. We never even had a wedding, let alone a honeymoon. The internet was already on fire with pictures of Claire and Leo. When I saw his face clearly on a news site, it all clicked into place with a horrifying certainty. I finally understood why she had run to him without a second thought. I was in the hospital for two weeks, and for those two weeks, Claire called me every day. The calls were punctual, her voice a flat monotone. “Working late again. Don’t wait up.” And every day, I gave the same reply. “Okay. Got it.” She had taken a month off, the nurses whispered. For two weeks, she hadn’t left Leo’s side. My leg was still useless, confining me to the bed. A physical therapist would come to help me with basic movements, but otherwise, I was a captive audience to the hospital gossip. I found myself listening with a strange, detached interest. If the woman in the story wasn’t the one on my marriage certificate, I’d probably find it all fascinating—a made-for-TV movie unfolding in the room next door. I could order a milkshake and popcorn and treat it like entertainment. But in this tragic reunion of star-crossed lovers, Claire was my wife. And I was the villain, the inconvenient husband keeping them apart. It’s hard to be happy about that. 2 Leo posted a selfie on Instagram from his hospital bed. He was in a patient gown, looking artfully pale. Casually, just in the frame, was the back of a woman. A tall, slender silhouette. A hand with long, elegant fingers resting on the edge of his bed. On the wrist, a Cartier watch with a worn leather strap. The caption read: Don’t worry. She’s taking good care of me. The comments exploded, a frenzy of fans and gossip hounds smelling blood in the water. Leo, is that your girlfriend?! OMG that hand! I’m in love. She should be holding my hand. Leo replied to that one almost immediately, staking his claim for the world to see: Already am. He posted a second picture, still in the hospital gown, clearly taken in the same moment. His hand was intertwined with hers, fingers laced together. It looked so easy for them. I remembered trying to hold Claire’s hand when we were in college. It felt like a clandestine meeting between spies. She never allowed any public displays of affection. My own roommate, Mark, didn’t even know we were dating until graduation. When I told him Claire and I were getting married, he stared at me, his face a mask of disbelief. “Dude, I think your crush finally broke your brain.” If it weren’t for the marriage certificate, Mark would have assumed I was just another one of the countless guys who fantasized about the unattainable Claire Allen. Mark came to visit me in the hospital. He tiptoed around the subject before finally asking, “So… are you and Claire… done?” I took a moment before answering, my voice more level than I felt. “Almost.” He didn’t push. As he was leaving, he clapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, my couch is always open to you, man. You know that.” I gave him a genuine smile. That night, just as I was drifting off, Claire called again. Her voice was the same as always, a calm, unreadable current. “It’s going to be a busy couple of weeks at the hospital. I probably won’t be home at all.” “Got it,” I replied, my voice a hollow echo of hers. She had no idea that I could see her, a lone figure standing in the brightly lit hallway, just on the other side of the frosted glass of my door. After that call, she didn’t call again. I guess she figured a single, sweeping excuse was more efficient than daily lies. Sometimes, Mark would come and wheel me down to the hospital garden for some fresh air. One afternoon, I saw her. She didn’t see me. Her tall, willowy frame was bent over a wheelchair. In it sat a man in a patient gown, his skin pale, his features fine and gentle. Leo. He was whining about wanting ice cream. Claire crouched in front of him, her voice low. “It’s too cold, Leo. You can’t.” He grabbed her hand, wheedling like a child, and she relented. She came back with a single cone. When a dab of vanilla stuck to the corner of his mouth, she reached out instinctively to wipe it away, but then stopped herself, shoving her hand back into her coat pocket. I saw it then—the love in her eyes, disciplined and restrained, but undeniably there. Leo just smiled, a bright, triumphant flash of white. “Claire, can you get that for me?” His smile seemed to travel across the crowded garden and land directly on me. Claire’s back was still to me, a wall I could never scale. In that moment, I understood. There wasn’t just distance between us. There were entire continents, oceans I could never hope to cross. Claire would have bought me ice cream in the middle of winter. She wouldn’t have cared if I caught a cold. But she never would have crouched down to wipe my face. She would have said, “Ethan, use a napkin. It’s not sanitary.” 3 My surgeon reviewed my chart and gave me the rundown. “You can be discharged next week.” I nodded. Mark was scheduled for a business trip next week. I’d have to hire someone. “And make sure you get out in the wheelchair,” the doctor added on his way out. “Keep moving.” I managed a clumsy lap around the garden by myself. When I got back to my room for lunch, I saw a new hashtag trending on Twitter. It was a photo collage. Claire’s back, Leo’s face. From sixteen to twenty-six. In the first, she’s hugging him, a tall, protective figure. In the last, a candid shot from the hospital, she’s leaning over him. And in the blurred background, almost an afterthought, was me, a solitary figure struggling with a wheelchair. #TheDancerAndTheDoctor #ChildhoodSweetheartsReunited My heart seized. Then I saw the caption that went with it, and the floor dropped out from under me. The best kind of second-chance romance is between step-siblings. So what if they broke up? They still have to see each other at Thanksgiving dinner every year. The words unlocked everything. A fog of confusion I had been living in for three years suddenly evaporated. The worn photograph Claire kept in her wallet—it wasn’t her brother. It was her stepbrother. The one her father brought into the family when he remarried. I knew she had one, but in three years, I’d never met him. Every time I suggested it, she shut me down. It all made sense now. She must have known I had a crush on her back in college. One night, I saw her drinking alone at a bar off-campus. I followed her, my heart pounding, wanting to make sure she was okay. I finally worked up the courage to approach, but she turned around just as I was about to lose my nerve. I spun around, my back to her, pretending to be looking at something else. Then I heard her voice, that cool, clear sound. “Ethan.” My heart stopped. “Weren’t you going to offer me that water?” she asked, a small smile playing on her lips. After that, we started talking. She knew I was gone for her. She was the one who asked me out. The one who suggested we get married. The whole thing, from first date to marriage license, took less than six months. It was all so impossibly easy. What I had mistaken for a fairy tale, for the sweet reward of a long-held crush, was actually a cage. A cage Claire had built for me, and for herself. She married me because she was in love with Leo. Her own twisted sense of morality told her she couldn’t be with him. Their parents had forced them apart, sent him abroad to study dance while she stayed here for med school. She needed a distraction. A shield. Someone who could make her forget, and convince her parents she had moved on. And I was the volunteer who walked right into the trap. I pieced it all together from his social media history and the whispers I’d overheard. Now, it was the week before Christmas. I searched online for a home health aide, but no one was available. Most agencies were closed for the holidays, and the few freelancers I found considered a hospital job bad luck at the end of the year. I tripled my offer, but got no replies. It looked like I’d have to stay here until Mark got back. The hospital was overflowing, and they needed my bed. A new patient had already been assigned to the room next door—an elderly woman who moved with more agility than I did. “All alone, handsome?” she asked with a wink. I just nodded. My doctor and the nurses kept stopping by, gently reminding me about my discharge. I felt a flush of embarrassment, a deep sense of apology. “My friend is coming. Soon. I’ll be out of your hair.” The young nurse, the kind one, saw the panic in my eyes. She was about my age. “Hey,” she said softly, “it’s okay. I’ll ask Dr. Miller to give you one more day. Just one.” She saw my helpless expression and gave me a conspiratorial wink, mouthing the words: Don’t worry. 4 The next day, Mark’s flight was delayed by a snowstorm. And the new patient for my room arrived. I heard a familiar, sharp voice from the doorway. “What is he still doing here? Does he think this is a hotel?” Mortified, I started frantically packing my things, piling bags onto my lap as I sat in the wheelchair. The sweet old lady from next door saw me struggling and came over to help. When we pushed the door open, I saw her. A thundercloud of a face. High cheekbones, a frown etched between her brows. She was radiating impatience. She looked right through me. “Do you have any idea how badly this bed is needed? You’ve been delaying for a week. This isn’t your home.” My eyes met hers, and for a second, I just stared. It was Claire. Her right hand was gripping the handle of a suitcase. She was in street clothes. Standing beside her, his arm linked through hers, was Leo. I was wearing a surgical mask. My face burned with shame. I dropped my gaze to the floor. “I’m going,” I mumbled. I wheeled myself out into the hallway, my belongings scattered around me like debris. Just then, the kind young nurse came around the corner. “Ethan! Let me help you with that. My shift just ended.” At the sound of my name, Claire’s head snapped up. She grabbed the back of my wheelchair, her grip like steel, and strode around to face me. Our eyes locked. Recognition dawned on her face, a slow wave of shock and disbelief. I offered a tight, painful smile. The nurse, oblivious, kept chattering. “Ethan, where’s your wife? I saw on your chart you were married.” My gaze lifted, meeting Claire’s. After three years of marriage, her own colleagues didn’t even know she had a husband. I smiled at the nurse, a brighter, falser smile this time. “That was a mistake on the form. I’m not married.” Claire started to move toward me, but Leo’s hand tightened on her arm, holding her back. I pushed myself toward the elevators. As the doors began to close, I saw a flicker of genuine panic in her eyes. It was the first real emotion I’d seen from her in a month. Just as the doors were about to seal shut, she lunged forward, shouting my name.

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