Category: English

My sleep ended the day my sister Lily was diagnosed with severe clinical depression. Mom ordered me to stay by Lily’s bedside every single night. I was only allowed to close my eyes after she finally drifted off. I was getting barely five hours of sleep a night. My mind was literally on the verge of total collapse. Seven months later, Lily was officially cleared. She was fully recovered. Everyone celebrated her “rebirth.” But nobody noticed that I had spiraled into severe depression myself. When I finally gathered the courage to text my diagnosis report to my parents, all I got was a raging call from Dad: “Your sister just got her life back! Are you seriously faking an illness right now just to trigger her?” They Venmoed me $5,000—a buyout to cut ties with me. “From now on, let’s just pretend Lily is our only daughter.” That day, I threw the pills and the diagnosis report straight into the trash can and walked down to the river alone. My phone still saved the twenty-four-point list I had meticulously kept over those seven painful months: “How to Care for Lily.” But left on the riverbank was nothing but a neatly placed pair of white canvas slip-ons. I was just so tired. This time, I wanted to sleep for real.

I stood in front of the kitchen sink, dish soap bubbles dripping slowly through my fingers. Laughter drifted in from the living room. Lily was unboxing the brand-new iPhone Dad had just bought her. It was the latest model, in pastel pink. “Dad, you’re literally the best!” Lily squealed. “Anything for you, sweetie.” My own phone screen had been badly cracked for four months. Every time I tried to take a photo, a glitchy black line cut right through the middle. When I brought it up last month, Mom just shrugged. “It’s not like you post on Insta anyway. Just make do with it.” The soap bubbles washed down the drain. The dishes were done. But I just stood there, staring at my hands, not knowing where to go. The living room belonged to Lily. Her new summer dresses were hanging out on the patio. Even my old bedroom had been turned into Lily’s personal space. After her diagnosis, Mom made me move into the tiny six-by-six storage room. She said Lily needed a spacious room, otherwise, she’d feel “suffocated.” The day I moved into that tiny room, the sheets weren’t even changed. There was still a dried boba tea stain Lily had spilled a week ago. Mom had said, “Just crash there tonight. I’ll wash it tomorrow.” She never did. In this entire house, I couldn’t find a single corner where I actually belonged. Dinner was entirely made of Lily’s favorite dishes. I reached for a piece of the grilled salmon, but Mom’s fork instantly slapped mine away. “Leave the salmon for your sister. She finally has an appetite today. Find something else to eat.” Beside her, Dad was busy peeling shrimp, placing them neatly on Lily’s plate one by one. “Eat up, sweetie. You’ve lost way too much weight.” “You’re the absolute best, Dad,” Lily said, leaning her head affectionately against his shoulder. Dad smiled so hard the corners of his eyes crinkled with deep lines. I couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled at me like that. I stared down at my bowl, chewing slowly. I couldn’t swallow. I suddenly remembered when I was eight and had a raging fever of 104 degrees. Mom had made a delicious batch of slow-cooked ribs. But she gave them all to Lily. “Your sister is sick, she needs light food. Give the ribs to Lily, don’t let them go to waste.” The memory faded, and I picked up the trash bag, walking past the living room. Lily was curled up on the couch scrolling through her new phone. Mom sat next to her, peeling oranges, while Dad had his legs kicked up watching TV. A happy family of three. The picture was perfect. It didn’t need a fourth person. As I carried the trash bag to the front door, I heard Lily reading out loud from her phone. “Mom, look! I just posted on Insta.” Mom leaned in. “Read it to me, sweetie.” “‘Thank you, Mom and Dad, for walking with me through my darkest days. I wouldn’t be here without you guys.’” The post was a picture of the three of them. Lily was in the middle, flanked by Mom and Dad, all of them beaming at the camera. I was there the day that photo was taken. I was the one holding the camera. Mom’s eyes welled up with tears as she hugged Lily. “My baby girl has finally grown up.” I stood by the doorway with the trash bag, watching their backs for a long, silent moment. Then I walked out, went downstairs, and tossed the bag into the dumpster. The heavy lid fell shut with a dull, hollow thud. At 2:00 AM, I woke up. I wasn’t startled awake by any noise. My body had just memorized the time. For seven months, my internal clock woke me up at exactly 2:00 AM every single night. I pushed my door open and peeked into the living room. Lily was curled up on the couch, clutching a pillow, her body trembling slightly. The doctor had mentioned that even after recovery, there would be minor panic episodes. It didn’t mean a full relapse. But my legs moved faster than my brain. I was already at her side. I poured her a cup of warm water and knelt down, gently patting her back. One beat at a time, matching the rhythm of a slow heartbeat. Slower, and slower. Forty minutes later, her trembling finally stopped. “Clara, don’t leave,” she whispered. “I’m here. I won’t leave.” I sat down on the hardwood floor, leaning against the couch, holding her hand. Her hand was warm. Mine was ice cold. As the sky began to turn gray, she finally fell asleep. I let go of her hand, gripping the armrest of the couch to stand up. Suddenly, my vision went completely black. My body swayed, my knees buckled, and I sank right back down to the floor. I sat there, holding onto the leg of the coffee table, waiting for a long time until my vision slowly returned. Clinging to the wall, I dragged myself step by step back to my tiny room and sat on the edge of the bed. My chest felt incredibly heavy, like a block of concrete was sitting on it. I opened my mouth to cry. But no sound came out. I had forgotten how to cry. I pulled out my phone and opened the notes app where I kept her care logs. Out of habit, I added one last line to the bottom: If she wakes up in the middle of the night, never turn on the main overhead light. Only use the warm yellow nightlight. Cool white light terrifies her. After typing that, I locked the screen. The room plunged into total darkness. The blackout curtains were bought for Lily last year. Now that she was better, she had moved back to her spacious room. But no one ever bothered to change the curtains back for me. I lay down and closed my eyes. Darkness. Everything was just pure darkness.

Once Lily was fully recovered, Mom hosted a big family dinner to celebrate. “We need to celebrate!” Mom told everyone. “We finally survived the worst seven months of our lives.” I had been helping her prep and clean from 8:00 AM until 4:00 PM. When we were finally done, Mom looked me up and down with a critical eye. “Whatever, that outfit is fine. Just don’t talk too much when the guests arrive. Just keep their glasses filled.” Soon, the relatives arrived. Lily wore a lovely floral dress with light makeup. Mom held her hand at the door, greeting everyone like she was showing off a priceless, recovered treasure. “Come in, come in! Look at our Lily. Doesn’t she look so healthy now?” “She looks radiant! Like a completely different person!” Mom was beaming. “Tell me about it. We spent nearly three thousand dollars on her therapy and meds. Her dad and I cut back on everything to scrape that money together. But it was worth it. Every single penny was worth it as long as she’s okay.” At the dinner table, Mom started recounting her “battle stories” from the past seven months. “You guys have no idea. At her worst, Lily would cry in the middle of the night, saying she didn’t want to live anymore. I stayed up with her night after night, losing clumps of my hair from stress…” I slowly put down my fork. The person who had stayed up with her every single night… was me. “Lily is so lucky to have you. A mother’s love really is a lifesaver,” Chloe sighed. Mom wiped a tear from her eye. “I had to do it. She’s my baby.” Helen suddenly looked over at me. “Clara must have had a hard time too, right? I heard she was staying home to help care for Lily.” The air at the table instantly froze. “Her?” Mom didn’t even pause her fork, placing another piece of roasted chicken onto Lily’s plate. “She just lent a hand here and there. It was mostly me. Honestly, Clara couldn’t even hold a water glass steady back then.” A few relatives laughed. I gripped my fork so hard my knuckles turned white. Seven months. Two hundred and ten days. The person who knelt by Lily’s bed every single night at 2:00 AM was me. The person who absorbed every single “I don’t want to live anymore” was me. “Mom,” the word forced its way out of my throat, raw and trembling. “For the past seven months, I was the one who stayed up every single night with Lily. I was the one who held her when she cried. When she had panic attacks at 3:00 AM, I was the one who got up to get her water. When the glass shattered, you only yelled at me for the noise. You didn’t even notice my hand was bleeding.” The dining room went dead silent. “Do you know she gets relapse anxiety when the seasons change? Do you know she has to eat before taking her meds, or her stomach burns? Do you know she can’t handle overhead lights when she wakes up terrified at night?” My voice was shaking violently. “You don’t know any of it. You only know how to cry in front of our relatives to get sympathy.” Clang! Mom slammed her fork onto the table and stood up. “Unbelievable! I raised you, worked myself to the bone for you, and you humiliate me in front of the entire family?!” “I love both of my daughters! Just because I asked her to help out with her sister, she’s kept this sick grudge against me!” She turned to the relatives, tears instantly streaming down her face. Mark slammed his hand on the table. “Clara! Have some respect! Do you have any idea how much stress your mother has been under?” Chloe shook her head. “Taking care of your sister is just what family does. Are you seriously trying to score points for that?” Nobody asked why I was saying these things. From beginning to end, not a single person asked if I was okay. Lily never looked up. She quietly peeled her shrimp, acting as if my breakdown was nothing but an awkward, minor glitch at the dinner table. Dad took a slow sip of his beer. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop making a scene. Let’s wrap this up so your mother can rest.” So Mom could rest. Not me. After everyone left, a mountain of dirty plates and forks was piled high in the sink. Mom walked past the kitchen without pausing, throwing a cold sentence over her shoulder: “The embarrassment you caused today is something you can never make up for.”

After that dinner, the air in the house turned into a suffocating vacuum. Every morning, there were only three sets of plates on the table. One for Mom, one for Dad, and one for Lily. Whenever I stood near the kitchen, Mom’s gaze would slide right past me, focusing on the wall behind me. “Lily, breakfast is ready!” A couple of days later, Dad came home early on a weekday. He sat on the living room couch and patted the spot next to him. “Clara, come sit down.” His voice was calm, almost pleasant. It made a cold shiver run down my spine. “Your mom told me you’ve been in a really bad headspace lately. We talked it over, and we think it’s best if you go help out at Helen’s botanical tea shop on the north side of town. It’ll get you out of the house, help you clear your mind.” He paused, then added, “Your sister just got better. We can’t have another crisis in this house. If you’re constantly around her like this, what if you trigger a relapse?” What if I triggered her relapse. So, in this house, I was nothing but a hazard. “Are you kicking me out?” “Kicking you out? We’re doing this for your own good. Go work, earn some pocket money, get some fresh air.” He added one last thing. “Your mom has been taking care of Lily for so long. She deserves some peace.” That night, I saw a voice message Mom sent to the family group chat. “Clara hasn’t been doing well lately… We might have put too much pressure on her by asking her to help with Lily. We’re sending her out of town to clear her head. If she reaches out to complain or play the victim, please don’t engage. It’s not that we don’t care, we just don’t want her drama triggering Lily.” Mark: Totally understand. Chloe: It’s good for her to get some space. I privately messaged Mark: “Mark, it’s not what Mom said. I think I’m actually sick. I need to see a doctor.” Read. Ten minutes passed. No reply. On the day I left, I stood by the door and muttered, “Mom, I’m leaving.” She was busy painting Lily’s nails. A soft pastel pink. “Okay. Text your dad when you get there so he knows you made it.” She didn’t even look up. The nail polish brush didn’t miss a beat. Helen’s shop was on the outskirts of the town. She barely spoke to me, occasionally giving me sideways glances as if she were looking at a ticking time bomb. I knew exactly what Mom had told her. At night, I slept in the tiny utility room behind the shop. A folding cot, a plastic stool, and a harsh fluorescent bulb. It was even smaller than my six-by-six room at home. On my fifth day of work, an elderly woman walked into the shop. Her hair was completely white, and she walked with a wooden cane. She ordered a small pot of the cheapest herbal tea. She sat by the window, slowly sipping it until the pot was empty. As she was leaving, she stopped by the counter and looked at me. “Sweetheart, you carry a very heavy sadness in your eyes.” I froze. She didn’t pry. She reached into her woven bag, pulled out a fresh, bright orange, and placed it gently on the counter. “Eat this. It’s very sweet.” Then she walked out. I stared at that orange for a long time. I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. That night, I placed it right next to my pillow. Whenever I couldn’t sleep, I would lean over to smell its sweet, citrus scent. It was sweet. For seven months, she was the very first person who didn’t ask for an explanation, yet saw that I was hurting. After that, she came in every week. We didn’t talk much. She would drink her tea, and before she left, she’d leave an orange on the counter. Sometimes it was an orange; sometimes it was a couple of hard candies. She never asked why, and I never volunteered information. I peeled the oranges carefully, keeping the peels and letting them dry on my windowsill. That tiny row of dried orange peels was the only warm, comforting thing in my entire world. A few weeks later, my phone rang. It was Mom. “Did you get your paycheck yet? Lily wants to go out for sushi. Venmo me a hundred dollars.” “Okay.” She didn’t hang up. Her voice suddenly sounded lighter, chatting casually. “By the way, ever since you left, Lily has been doing so much better. She’s smiling every day, and she even went shopping with her friends.” She paused. “Honestly, I think she kept relapsing before because the house was too crowded and stressful. She actually feels lighter with you gone.” I gripped the phone, my throat completely blocked. I couldn’t make a sound. “Anyway, don’t forget to send the money. And don’t go venting about family business to Helen’s friends. It’s embarrassing.” I hung up. My hands were shaking violently. I opened my notes app and typed: It’s getting cold. Lily’s mood swings always act up when the seasons change. Don’t let her stay alone. Make sure she gets some sunlight. Just as I saved it, an Insta notification popped up. It was a post from Lily. Nine beautiful selfies of her smiling brightly. The caption read: “Finally stepped out of the dark! So incredibly grateful for everyone who stayed by my side.” There were dozens of comments below. Mom: Mommy loves you forever, baby! Dad: So proud of you, sweetheart! I scrolled all the way to the bottom. Out of forty-plus comments, my name was never mentioned once. Out of the nine photos, my face wasn’t in a single one. I locked my phone. The utility room was pitch black, save for the faint streetlights reflecting off the dried orange peels on my windowsill. I stared at them, and a wave of pure exhaustion washed over me. I was so tired. I couldn’t even find the energy to breathe.

I worked until I finally saved up enough money. I asked Helen for a half-day off and took a two-hour bus ride to the Westside Psychiatric Clinic. I waited in line for three hours. When I finally went into the doctor’s office, he looked over my assessment forms, his brow furrowing deeply. “Severe clinical depression with severe somatic symptoms. Why did you wait so long to get help? Where is your emergency contact?” “I came alone.” “Given your state, you need someone to monitor you. There is a high risk of self-harm. You cannot be left alone.” He handed me the diagnosis report. The red clinical stamp on the white paper was blindingly bright. I walked out of the clinic and sat on the concrete edge of a planter outside. Even under the blazing afternoon sun, my body wouldn’t stop shivering. I took a photo of the report. After hesitating for a long time, I texted it directly to Mom. “Mom, I’m not faking it. I was never trying to compete with Lily. I am really sick. The doctor says I shouldn’t be alone.” I stared at the screen, waiting. Hoping for a text saying, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.” Or even just a simple, “Is it bad?” Ten minutes later, my phone rang. It was Dad. “Dad…” “Are you out of your mind?!” His roar blasted through the speaker. “Why the hell would you send that to your mother? She’s out at the mall shopping with Lily right now! Lily saw the text and had a massive panic attack right there in the store. She’s sobbing, saying she ruined your life! Are you happy now?!” “I only sent it to Mom…” “What’s the difference?! You just can’t stand to see this family happy, can you?! Your sister finally got her life back, and you just have to drag her back down with a stupid piece of paper!” “Dad, it’s real. I’m really sick…” “Even if it is, you brought this on yourself!” he breathed heavily. “You helped watch your sister for a few months and suddenly you’re depressed? Are you trying to force this entire family to get on our knees and beg for your forgiveness?!” Through the line, I could hear Lily hyperventilating in the background, and Mom crying hysterically. It was total chaos. Then, Dad’s voice suddenly went quiet. Cold as ice. “I just sent you $5,000 on Venmo. That’s money your mother and I saved up.” A Venmo notification popped up on my screen. The memo simply read: Don’t reply. “Take the money and get whatever treatment you want. Don’t bother coming home for the holidays. From now on, we’re going to pretend Lily is our only daughter. This family cannot take any more of your drama.” Beep— The line went dead. Five thousand dollars. They used five thousand dollars to buy out their own daughter. I tapped “Decline and Return” on the Venmo transfer. Then, I walked over to the trash can outside the clinic and threw the entire bag of meds and my diagnosis report right into it. I guess even seeking help was pointless. In their eyes, my illness wasn’t a cry for help. It was a crime. I didn’t go back to Helen’s shop that night. I just walked. My shadow stretched longer and longer under the streetlights. I passed by a local park. The main gate was locked, but there was a gap in the fence. I slipped inside. I sat down on a park bench. At 3:00 AM, the park was completely empty. I pulled out my phone and opened my notes app. “How to Care for Lily.” From point one to point twenty-three, it was packed with detail. What time she needed to eat before her meds, which seasons made her anxious, what light color she feared, how to pat her back when she felt like dying. Line by line, these were the things I had figured out while kneeling by her bed in the dark. At the very bottom, I added point twenty-four: No one else knows these things. Now, they are all yours. I backed out of the note and created a new one. It was only one sentence: This is the last time I’ll ever lend a hand. I placed the phone on the bench, screen facing up. I stood up. Behind the park ran the local river. A section of the safety railing had collapsed during last year’s storm and had never been fixed. Whenever I used to walk here with Lily, I always made sure to walk on the side of the gap, shielding her from the edge. Now, I stood before the gap entirely alone. I wondered what it felt like beneath the dark, quiet water. I took a step forward, my toes hanging over the edge. The river was so close. I could see my own blurry reflection, shivering and dissolving with the ripples. I slid off my white canvas shoes, placing them neatly side by side right next to the gap. The lace on the right shoe had come undone. I bent down and tied it into a perfect, neat bow. The wind was howling, but suddenly, I didn’t feel cold at all.

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I went with my boyfriend, Ethan Brooks, to watch the World Cup final. But when we reached the ticket check, the system showed no ticket purchase record under my name. Ethan smacked his forehead. “I accidentally filled in your best friend Lily Carter’s information when I bought the tickets.” “Perfect timing, since Argentina is her favorite team today, so I’ll go pick her up, and we can’t let first-row VIP tickets go to waste!” I froze and watched helplessly as my boyfriend led my best friend inside without even sparing me a glance. And I was left alone, standing outside in the cold, listening to the excitement inside. Half a month later, during our honeymoon trip, I was stopped outside the airport again. Ethan once again looked full of regret. “Nora, I filled in Lily’s information for the entire itinerary again.” “Why don’t we just go with the mistake and let me take her abroad for a trip?” “She’s not like you, since you’ve been to so many places!” As soon as he finished speaking, Lily appeared at the airport entrance. “Nora,” she said naturally as she handed her luggage to Ethan. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him for you during this trip.” “And I’ll teach him how to be a good husband while I’m at it.” In the seven years I had been with Ethan, he had filled in my best friend’s information instead of mine countless times. Every time, he apologized and said he would make it up to me next time, then turned around and left with my best friend. I thought I was being sensitive and suspicious, and I always told myself, what could possibly be going on between them? But this time, as I watched their backs while they walked away together, I didn’t want to lie to myself anymore.

Ethan did not notice my darkened expression at all. He was busy checking the documents Lily needed to bring. “Good, you brought all your documents.” “You’re much better than Nora, since she’s always careless and I always have to pack her bags for her.” As he complained about me, he put their documents together. “Nora is so lucky, since no matter where she goes, someone takes care of her.” “Unlike me, I’ve only ever had myself to rely on since I was little.” Lily’s tone was sour. I stayed silent and quietly listened from the side. After all, every time they met, the two of them would take out my flaws and discuss them. And Ethan had long since cared for her more than he cared for me. “Nora, we’re leaving! Don’t miss me too much!” “Aren’t you going to wish us a safe trip?” Lily’s voice was cheerful. When I did not answer, Ethan finally noticed my cold expression. “Nora, don’t be immature and ruin everyone’s mood, and I’ll make it up to you properly when I get back.” “Besides, we’ve been to Hawaii once before, so it won’t mean much for you to go again.” Five years ago, Ethan confessed his feelings to me in Hawaii. This time, I had wanted to find that original beauty again, but the person beside him had already changed. Returning to the same place was just me trying to chase something that was already gone. I laughed at myself. “I wish you both a safe trip.” I turned and walked out of the airport, then took a cab home. When I got home, the traces of yesterday’s wedding were still there. Confetti all over the floor, red roses, the wedding dress spread across the couch… It was not until the wedding that I found out Ethan had custom-ordered two identical wedding dresses. Lily wore the other one to my wedding. I threw a tantrum and refused to go onstage. “Nora, you and Lily grew up together, and you usually buy matching clothes all the time, so why can’t your wedding dresses be the same?” “Didn’t you two even say when you were kids that you wanted to hold your weddings together?” Ethan frowned. “Maybe Nora forgot a long time ago.” “If you don’t like it, I’ll take it off right now.” After Lily said that, she took off the wedding dress right in front of both of us. Ethan immediately took off his own jacket and wrapped it around her. “Can we hold the wedding now?” He asked me, his tone carrying anger. I swallowed the grievance in my heart, but I still nodded. I made an appointment with a housekeeping company to come pack my luggage. I had them throw the wedding dress away directly. I did not want anything that did not belong to me alone. People included. I called the city hall staff, wanting to cancel the marriage license appointment. We had originally planned to officially register the marriage after the honeymoon. Now there was no need at all. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hayes, but we couldn’t find your appointment information.” “However, the Mr. Ethan Brooks you mentioned has already made an appointment to register a marriage with Ms. Lily Carter.” Ethan had deliberately filled in the wrong information again. Although Lily and I were born on the same day and our ID numbers differed by only one digit, if the name and ID did not match, the system would not recognize it at all. I wanted to see how long Ethan would keep pretending to be stupid.

After I got up the next day, I came across a post. “Does anyone know this couple? I found their camera in Hawaii.” I tapped it open, and it was a photo of Ethan and Lily together. The two of them stood side by side by the ocean. There were also many solo photos they had taken of each other, and every moment looked beautiful. “These two are way too perfect together!” “He’s handsome, she’s gorgeous, they’re a match made in heaven!” The comments section was full of praise. I casually forwarded it to Ethan. His call came quickly. “Nora, don’t listen to the nonsense in the comments section, we only took a photo together.” Lily laughed and cut in from the side. “But the public has sharp eyes, and we really do look good together.” She snatched the phone. “Nora, relax, I’d never be interested in him.” “But he already promised me he’d quit smoking, and I don’t know how you used to stand kissing him with that smoke smell on him.” “Ew… just thinking about it is disgusting.” I replied coldly. “The important thing is to bring the camera back, since that was a gift from Grandma to my mom.” I opened the file folder on the table and took out the materials I had previously prepared for my study abroad application. Because of Ethan’s proposal, I had given it up. Now, I was going to start my life over. A few days later, it was Ethan’s mother’s birthday. I arrived at his mother’s house early, put down the gift, and was about to leave. I did not expect to still run into Ethan, who had just returned from the honeymoon. He slipped a crudely made shell bracelet onto my wrist. “What do you think? Do you like it?” “I picked these up one by one from the beach under the blazing sun, so they’re especially meaningful as a keepsake.” Lily was sitting cross-legged on the couch playing on her phone, and she came over too. “To drill holes in these stupid shells, I even stabbed my hand.” “Ethan was afraid you’d think he hadn’t taken good care of me, so he specially gave me a bracelet as an apology.” She spread both hands in front of me. The wound was smaller than a needle prick. The bracelet was bright and eye-catching, but I only found it blinding. The gifts Ethan gave me were always little handmade things. A dress he made by hand, a ceramic spoon… Every single one showed a careless kind of ugliness. But Lily often received expensive gifts from him. Once, I questioned him with red eyes. “Do you like Lily?” “Who would like her? She’s so silly. I only give her gifts on your behalf, and if you hadn’t said Lily was your best friend since childhood, I wouldn’t even bother trying to please her.” He held my hand, his eyes full of sincerity. “The things I give you can’t be bought with money, and sincerity is priceless.” I let out a scoff. I was laughing at my old lovesick self. “Nora, here’s your camera.” Lily took the camera out of her bag and threw it straight at me. The distance was too far, and I did not catch it. The camera fell to the floor and shattered into pieces. “Why didn’t you catch it?” Lily complained at me. “If it’s broken, then it’s broken, since that old antique was hard to use anyway.” Before I could say anything, Ethan pushed me straight into the kitchen. “The housekeeper took the day off, so I’ll have to trouble my wife to cook today.” He handed me a list. “These are all dishes Lily likes, and she’s worked hard taking care of me these past two days, so we need to reward her properly.” Not wanting to ruin Ethan’s mother’s birthday, I quickly made a whole table of food. Lily sat beside Ethan. She chatted and laughed with Ethan’s family. There was no longer any seat for me at the dining table. Ethan tugged my hand. “Honey, there are too many guests today, and we can’t fit everyone, so go eat in the kitchen.” When Lily heard that, she made a show of standing up. “How can that be? Only servants eat in the kitchen, so let Nora sit here.” Ethan pressed down on her leg. “You’re the guest, so just sit here with peace of mind.” “Nora isn’t that fussy, and she can eat in the kitchen.”

I carried a big bowl of food back to the kitchen. I opened the trash can and poured it in. I also threw the shell bracelet in with it. As soon as I turned around, Lily smeared a huge piece of cake across my face. “Why did you suddenly turn around, Nora?” She casually picked up a dirty rag nearby and tried to wipe my face. “Enough!” I shouted and knocked her hand away, then fumbled around to find the faucet. Ethan rushed over after hearing the commotion. Lily spoke first. “I just wanted to bring Nora some cake, but she turned her head and bumped into the cake, so it’s all my fault.” Ethan roughly pulled me over. “Apologize to Lily.” “I didn’t do anything wrong!” My gaze swept back and forth between the two of them. One was the friend who had grown up with me, and one was the person I had once loved most. But neither of them remembered I was allergic to cream. I shook off his hand and strode toward the door. Two minutes later, I got a call and hurried back to Ethan. “Take me to the hospital, my mom suddenly fainted.” Maybe it was panic, or maybe it was the allergic reaction, but I could not breathe properly, and the hand gripping his was trembling. Ethan’s mother lived in the suburbs. It was already very late, and there was no way to get a cab. Ethan’s face was calm. “Apologize to Lily first, and then I’ll take you to the hospital.” I looked at Lily, who was sitting among the crowd and constantly wiping away tears. I was clearly the one who had been wronged. With the situation urgent, I walked up to her. “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, Nora, but when you yelled at me just now, it made me feel uncomfortable…” I completely ignored what she said and pulled Ethan out the door. Inside the car, the atmosphere was terrifyingly quiet. “Honey, you and Lily have been best friends for over twenty years, and I don’t want to see you two fight, so I wanted to help you, and that’s why I asked you to lower your head first…” “Focus on driving.” I interrupted him and turned my head to the other side. A few minutes later, Lily called. “Ethan…” Lily sobbed on the other end of the phone, “I really didn’t want to bother you, but I don’t have any other friends.” “I’m scared to drive home by myself, since the road is so dark and quiet, just like the scene in that horror movie we just watched, and I’m so scared…” Ethan slammed on the brakes, and my head hit the windshield. He got out of the car, opened the passenger door, and dragged me out. “Go to the hospital yourself.” “Lily is very timid, so I have to send her home safely first.” “My mom is still waiting for me at the hospital…” I was beyond anxious. But Ethan had already driven far away, and the car lights disappeared like fireflies. This godforsaken place did not even have a signal. There was only the faint light coming from my phone. The thick darkness made my scalp tingle. Ethan had long forgotten that I was the one afraid of the dark. Once, he would install automatic night-lights in every corner of our home and prepare lots of candles in advance. He had made sure there was always light in my world. But now, that light had long since shone on someone else. I ran desperately toward the main road. Half an hour later, I finally found a car that could take me. After I reached the hospital, the doctor told me, “The patient has had a sudden cerebral hemorrhage, and the condition is very serious, but we are doing everything we can to save her.” In the next second, I lost consciousness. When I woke again, the sky was just beginning to lighten. The doctor told me that my acute shock had been caused by the allergy. “If we had found you a few minutes later, your life would have been in danger.” Luckily, Mom’s surgery was also very successful. Otherwise, I would have blamed myself for the rest of my life for not making it to her side when she needed me most.

Early the next morning, Ethan and Lily pushed open the door to my hospital room. Ethan was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and when he came close to me, a heavy scent of perfume drifted from him. They had been together all night. “Nora, today is the day we get our marriage license.” “Ethan,” my voice trembled slightly, “my mom is still unconscious.” But Lily said, “Nora, don’t throw a tantrum, since getting the license is more important, and the date was already set, so you can’t delay it.” My emotions were on the edge of losing control. “Are you two addicted to acting?” “Ethan, you filled in Lily’s information for the appointment again this time, didn’t you? How many more times do you want to play this trick?” Ethan’s brows furrowed deeper and deeper. He opened the appointment page and froze in place. Lily tilted her head at us and smiled. “Nora, I changed the appointment information, and I just wanted to give you a surprise, so please don’t be mad at me and Ethan.” “Besides, we can just change it back when we get there.” Ethan had never let me touch his phone. But Lily could log into his account whenever she wanted. His so-called respect for privacy was nothing more than giving favoritism to someone else and leaving suspicion for me. Ethan also let out a breath of relief and rubbed the top of Lily’s head. “You little troublemaker, how could we possibly be mad at you?” Ethan took my hand. “Let’s go, Nora, you’re about to officially become my wife.” “Ethan, I want to break up with you.” I said each word slowly and clearly. After my words fell, Ethan froze. “Just because Lily changed the appointment information?” “Nora Hayes!” He gripped my wrist so hard it hurt, “Can you stop being so willful, since we’ve already had the wedding?” “Where are you going to leave my family’s reputation?” “Wherever,” I replied. Ethan was so furious that he carried me over his shoulder and went to city hall. Lily followed behind us too. Ethan’s relatives and friends had arrived a long time ago. They had even set up a small area and hired a photographer. But then they saw the big screen display: Please have Mr. Ethan Brooks and Ms. Lily Carter come to Window 2 to complete the marriage registration. Everyone looked at one another. Then they began whispering. “What’s going on? The person he had the wedding with and the person he’s getting the license with aren’t the same?” “The Brooks family wants to marry two daughters-in-law? On the wedding day, there were two brides in wedding dresses too, so isn’t this bigamy?” “A few days before the wedding, I even saw Ethan go to the OB-GYN with Lily.” Ethan hurriedly explained, “Everyone, please don’t misunderstand, the appointment information was filled in wrong, and the only wife I’ve had from beginning to end is Nora.” Lily also grabbed my sleeve. “My period was late, and since I saw you were busy with work, I asked Ethan to go with me to the hospital for a checkup.” I laughed. “The person getting the marriage license with Ethan today really isn’t me.” “Let me officially announce that Ethan and I have broken up, and from now on, I have nothing to do with him.” “Nora Hayes! Are you determined to make a scene?” “You’ll regret this!” He dragged me tightly and forced me to watch with my own eyes as he and Lily completed the marriage registration. “Are you satisfied now?” Ethan asked me with red eyes. “Happy wedding.” After saying that, I broke free from his hand and walked outside. But he grabbed me by the hair. Lily tried to stop Ethan. But she only barely brushed his arm, looking as if she had failed to stop him. During the struggle, I fell down the stairs. I sank into unconsciousness again. “I’m the patient’s family member, and the patient’s ID number is…” “Wrong? I didn’t remember it wrong.” That was Ethan’s voice. “Sir, the identity information you just gave corresponds to Ms. Lily Carter.” Someone answered him. “The patient has severe internal bleeding and needs a blood transfusion as soon as possible, so what is the patient’s blood type?” “Type O? No, no, Lily is type O.” “Doctor, I forgot.” Ethan’s voice was anxious. “Nora has a rare blood type, just like me, so take mine.” A familiar voice sounded by my ear.

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I thought my online boyfriend and my college professor were the two biggest disasters in my life. One argued with me online almost every day. The other loved making me suffer in class. Until the day I was kicked out of the lab. That night, someone followed me through a dark street,I dialed my online boyfriend’s number. The very next second. My professor’s phone rang. Only then did I realize— That’s when I realized I’d been dating my professor for the past six months. Three minutes ago, I had just broken up with my online boyfriend. Now, Julian Sterling walked down from the lecture stage, his face incredibly dark. He ordered all of us to stand up and clear our desks. He seemed to be looking for something. Then, he confiscated my Nintendo Switch and took my seatmate, Chloe, out of the room with him. We all held our breath as we watched Chloe being led away. Once they left, the classroom collectively exhaled. Whispers immediately broke out among the students. “What happened to Chloe?” “She’s probably going to get ripped to shreds by Professor Sterling.” “Someone better prep some tissues for her. She’s going to cry a river.” Everyone had good reason to think so. The Sterling family was filthy rich. Julian could have easily gone home to inherit a billion-dollar empire, yet he chose to pursue academia. He used to advise Ph.D. students at a top-tier research institute abroad. Rumor had it that because the academic atmosphere at our department had been declining lately, the Dean had personally begged him to come back and teach undergrads. Handsome, brilliant, and with a killer physique—that was our first impression of him. For a while, Julian was the ultimate fantasy for every girl on campus. Students had to show up early just to fight for a seat in his lectures. But on his second day of teaching, he gave us a brutal reality check. Show up late? Automatic absence. No phones allowed in class. And the worst part: his final grading system was downright sadistic. To put it in perspective, we used to be able to pull an easy B+ in this class with our eyes closed. Now, he graded on a strict curve where only the top 10% could get an A, while the bottom 30% automatically received an F. When it came to grading research papers, he was ruthless. He was like a cold, emotionless academic executioner. Anyone summoned to his office might walk in with a smile, but they would definitely leave in tears. If there was even a tiny logical loophole in your paper, his only response was a cold: “Rewrite it.” He was the ultimate GPA assassin of the entire department. Under such immense academic pressure, I ended up getting an online boyfriend. Our relationship started with a random matchmaking queue in a game. One night, after being tortured by Julian’s paper draft until 2 AM, I completely snapped. I opened Steam and joined a random survival game. The system matched me with a teammate who didn’t say a single word but played with terrifying precision. Meanwhile, I was running around like a headless chicken. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and turned on his mic. “Your positioning is completely chaotic. Honestly, it’s worse than an undergraduate’s final thesis.” That sentence instantly triggered my PTSD. I aggressively typed back: *Who asked you? I like playing this way.* He replied coldly: *Suit yourself.* When the game ended, my stats were indeed a total disaster. But to grind my rank, I had to swallow my pride and send him a friend request. Fortunately, he didn’t hold a grudge. After playing together a few times, I realized this guy was a genuine gaming god. It was that rare feeling of finding a soulmate without ever having met in person. We didn’t need to know each other’s names or what we looked like. We were chasing a connection of the minds. Naturally, we transitioned into an online relationship. Even though we never met, we had a tacit agreement that we were exclusive. He was actually really sweet, though his most adorable trait was his occasional pettiness. For example, if I replied to his messages too slowly, or forgot to text him goodnight, he’d get sulky. Sometimes, if I snapped back at him, he would get genuinely angry. And strangely, every single time he got angry, Julian would call on me in class the next day. It was the weirdest thing. Once or twice was fine, but who could survive this happening every single time? So, I broke up with him. If I didn’t, I was literally going to fail my finals. Oh my god, who would dare to keep dating under these conditions? There had to be some kind of curse on us. We were clearly not meant to be. And now, poor Chloe was summoned to Julian’s office just because of the Switch he had bought for me. He was the one who gave me that console and insisted I carry it with me. Yesterday, I had lent it to Chloe. Dating him was truly a hazard to myself and everyone around me.

After a while, Chloe walked out of the office. She wasn’t crying. She didn’t even look upset. In fact, there was a faint, smug smile on her face. Julian’s teaching assistant, Marcus, walked out behind her. Marcus was just like Julian—cold, unapproachable, and practically a grim reaper in a suit. Marcus cleared his throat and made a solemn announcement: “The paper deadline has been extended by one week. Also, Professor Sterling is treating the entire class to dinner after lectures today.” He paused, then added, “Additionally, Chloe has officially been appointed as the Professor’s new teaching assistant.” The entire room went dead silent. Chloe had just transferred to our major this semester, and she was already Julian’s TA? I had been practically living in the library just to get a shot at that position. But who dared to say a word? A cold, arrogant man like Julian was openly showing favoritism to Chloe. More than jealousy, everyone felt pure envy. Students immediately crowded around Chloe, showering her with compliments. “Chloe, you’re amazing! How did you manage to tame a cold man like Professor Sterling?” “Thanks to you, we survived the deadline! And we get a free gourmet dinner!” … Chloe stood there elegantly, smiling shyly as she chatted with them. I had no interest in joining the hype. I quietly opened my Snapchat. It was completely empty. My online boyfriend hadn’t tried to win me back. We were officially over. Wanting some fresh air, I started to walk out, but Chloe pushed through the crowd and walked straight up to me. “Avery,” she called out politely. “Yes?” She hesitated, looking a bit sheepish. “I just wanted to ask… that Switch you lent me, did your boyfriend give it to you?” “Yeah.” “My online boyfriend.” Chloe pressed further, “Do you know what he looks like?” “No. If I did, it wouldn’t be an online relationship, would it?” “Did the console cause any trouble with the professor?” I asked cautiously. “No, Professor Sterling didn’t say much.” Chloe smiled, then added, “I really like the Switch. Do you think you could sell it to me?” I did like the console, but I didn’t care about the money. Indifferently, I said, “No need. If you like it, you can have it.” We were broken up anyway. Keeping it would only annoy me. “But… your boyfriend gave it to you.” “We broke up.” “Why?” I whispered, “We weren’t a good match.” Chloe looked thoughtful. “I see. Tell me more about him.” Realizing that sounded a bit intrusive, she quickly tried to soften her expression. “Men are all pretty much the same, I guess,” she mumbled, then lowered her voice significantly. “To be honest, Avery… Professor Sterling and I are dating now.” “I know you’ve taken a lot of his classes. I just wanted to ask… is he always this cold?” Holding my coffee, I smiled. “You’re beautiful, Chloe. I’m sure you know exactly how to handle men.” “I’ll head out first.”

Julian treated us to dinner at the most expensive restaurant in the city. It was obvious he was doing this so we would look after his new TA. Chloe sat right next to him. Julian looked at her with a remarkably soft, almost doting expression. I never expected such a ruthless man to be such a fool for love. After dinner, the weather turned bad, and a torrential downpour started. Students with umbrellas shared with those without, and everyone gradually left. I had forgotten my umbrella, so I was stuck waiting at the entrance for the rain to stop. “I can give you a ride.” I looked up at the sound of the voice. Marcus gave me a gentle look, holding his umbrella halfway over me. “Professor Sterling left with Chloe. My car is parked over there.” “Thank you, Marcus.” Once we got into the car, Marcus glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Avery, do you have a boyfriend?” “Just broke up.” Marcus wasn’t usually a talkative guy. Why was he being so warm and conversational today? “Chloe just transferred to our department. Try to help her out more.” Ah. So that was why… “Sure. She’s Professor Sterling’s girlfriend, after all. I get it.” “Avery, that’s not what I meant.” Marcus sighed. “On the contrary, there is an open spot in the main research lab. I was hoping it would be you.” What was Marcus trying to hint at? With my grades, of course it should be me. “Yeah, I’ll do my best.” Chloe and I were in the same research group, working on a core NSF-funded project led by Julian. We were each responsible for 50% of the project. She handled the first half; I handled the second. Once completed, the report had to be submitted to Julian personally. Chloe insisted on taking over the submission. Usually, turning in data to Julian was no different from stepping into a minefield. So we always passed the task around like hot potatoes. Since she was Julian’s girlfriend, I was glad to catch a break. But after she turned it in, Chloe came back looking extremely pale. She walked toward me, looking deeply troubled. I got a bad feeling in my gut. Could it be that even his girlfriend wasn’t safe from his temper? “Chloe, are you okay?” I stood up from my chair, asking out of concern. “Avery, I need to ask you a huge favor. Please, say yes.” Chloe begged, looking incredibly pitiful, as if she had been deeply wronged. “What’s wrong?” “I made a stupid, basic mistake in the first half of the report.” “I really didn’t know the data statistics had to be based on this year’s latest standards. I thought last year’s would be fine.” “I was so scared of his reaction… so I told Professor Sterling that you were the one responsible for that section.” I stared at her, completely dumbfounded. “And?” Chloe grabbed my arm, trying to pull me close. “Professor Sterling wants you in his office right now.” “Please help me out, Avery. I’ll buy you dinner next time!” Maya nudged my elbow from behind, giving me a warning look. I sighed and nodded helplessly. “Thank you so much, Avery!” Chloe’s face instantly lit up. Maya gave me a sympathetic look of solidarity. “She’s the Professor’s new TA. We can’t afford to mess with her. Good luck, Avery!” She clenched her fist in an encouraging gesture.

Bracing myself for the worst, I walked into the office with a sense of impending doom. Julian’s private office. The grey-toned decor gave off a suffocating, clinical vibe. Julian himself was practically radiating a murderous aura. Hearing me enter, he didn’t even bother to look up. “You took your sweet time. Are you physically incapable of walking faster?” I chanted in my mind: *He’s yelling at Chloe, he’s yelling at Chloe.* “How long have you been in my research group?” Julian asked, his voice dripping with impatience. “Two years,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “Two years? And this is the kind of garbage data you compile?” Julian threw the report right at my feet. I bent down to pick it up, locking eyes with his cold, ruthless gaze. His sharp eyes felt like they could rip me to shreds. “Two years in my lab and you still make such amateur mistakes? Do you think there’s any point in continuing your research stipend next month?” Terrified, I blurted out, “Yes, yes, it’s my fault.” Marcus knocked and walked in, carrying a stack of files. He glanced at me, frowning slightly. “The latter half of this report is actually excellent, but the beginning is a complete disaster. If you don’t want to do the work, you can leave the project,” Julian continued to hammer down on me. “Avery has been in the group for two years, and she’s always been the most meticulous. This doesn’t make sense. I heard she worked on this report with Chloe?” Marcus tried to speak up for me. Julian shot him a freezing glare. In that brief distraction, my eyes fell on the fountain pen Julian was holding. That pen looked incredibly familiar. It was almost identical to the one I had gifted my online boyfriend. I had handpicked it at a vintage store, and the owner had assured me it was a one-of-a-kind piece. On some weird instinct, I blurted out, “Is that pen nice to write with?” Julian’s already icy expression hardened even further. “Mind your own business.” “You’re pulling an all-nighter in the lab tonight. You don’t leave until the data is fully corrected.” Julian’s word was law. If I didn’t finish, I definitely wouldn’t be going home. Chloe was nowhere to be found in the lab all afternoon. Since I couldn’t reach her, I had to completely redo her half of the report myself. Collecting data, searching through literature… I worked through the entire evening. Soon, all the other lab members left. I was the only one left in the lab, illuminated by the glow of my computer screen. Alone, keeping company with the dark night. I took a massive gulp of my mint-infused cold brew to shock my brain awake. Once finished, I took the updated report back to Julian’s office. He had a mountain of his own research to do, so he hadn’t left his office all evening either. Julian suddenly looked up, his brow furrowing. “What is that smell on you?” “Mint cold brew. I was too tired, so I used it to wake up.” “I hate that smell.” He stopped, his eyes narrowing. “It smells like…” He seemed to struggle to find the words. Without thinking, I finished his sentence: “Like burnt tires.” I suddenly remembered my online boyfriend using that exact description with me. That’s why it was on the tip of my tongue. Julian looked momentarily dazed, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. He stared at me intensely, his eyes locked onto mine. “Who did you hear that from?” “I heard it from…” Before I could answer, Chloe pushed the door open and walked in. “Julian, you must be exhausted. I bought you some…” Seeing me there, Chloe froze. She was carrying several designer shopping bags. So that was where she had been all afternoon. “Oh, Avery, you’re still here.” *Yeah, thanks to you.* Julian casually flipped through my report. “I don’t expect to see such amateur mistakes again.” “It’s late. You can go home.” As I turned to leave, I heard Chloe ask Julian in a sweet voice, “What were you guys just talking about?” I didn’t care to look back at her expression.

At lunch the next day, Maya quietly slipped into the seat next to me. She looked around suspiciously, then whispered, “Avery, everyone is gossiping. They’re saying you stayed late in the lab last night to try and seduce Professor Sterling.” I nearly choked, spitting out my food. “Who said that?!” “Everyone is talking about it. But don’t worry, I know you wouldn’t do that.” Only Chloe and I had been in the office last night. What reason would she have to spread such a rumor? I chose not to let the baseless gossip distract me and went back to work. Later that afternoon, when I went to hand in some new data, I overheard Chloe and Julian talking inside his office. “Professor Sterling, you’ve heard the rumors going around the department,” Chloe was saying. “I think removing Avery from the research group is actually for her own protection.” Julian replied, “She’s been in the group for two years. It’s not appropriate to just kick her out.” “But her academic performance is pretty average anyway. Most of the work we did together on the project was actually done by me,” Chloe lied smoothly. “Removing her won’t hurt the project, and it’ll stop the negative rumors about her.” Hearing this, I quietly walked back to my lab bench and started packing my things. Sure enough, a few minutes later, an automated email popped up in my inbox. *System Notification: You have been removed from the NSF Research Project roster.* “Avery, can you organize this file for me?” Sylna, another lab member who didn’t know I’d been kicked out yet, handed me some papers. I quietly finished my tasks for the day. Suddenly being forced to leave made me feel a heavy pang of sadness. By the time I finished packing up all my personal belongings, it was already 8 PM. With my backpack loaded with my things, I walked alone through a dimly lit, quiet street just off campus. Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me. They were getting closer. I could even hear heavy, ragged breathing. Instinctively, I quickened my pace, my heart hammering against my ribs. I pulled out my phone and went to my contacts. The first contact was the phone number my online boyfriend had given me. He had told me: *If you’re ever in danger, call this number. I’ll show up instantly.* With no other choice, I dialed the number.

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I’m a strict vegetarian, but my best friend, Chloe, is a hardcore carnivore. Brandon and I had been in a ten-year relationship. Just before our wedding, he said he wanted to take me out for a private celebration. It wasn’t until we arrived at the restaurant that I realized he had booked an all-meat steakhouse feast. There wasn’t a single green leaf in sight. Sitting with us in the private booth was Chloe, who had just returned from studying abroad. Brandon was standing, busy carving steaks and putting them on her plate, while she devoured them with pure satisfaction. “I’ve missed this so much since I left the country,” she said, her mouth full. Looking at the man who was supposed to be my fiancé, fussing over Chloe and piling her plate with meat, I raised my fork. I had no idea where to even start. Halfway through the dinner, Brandon finally remembered that I couldn’t eat meat. With a casual flick of his wrist, he pushed a small plate of greasy, cold onion rings—a complimentary side dish the waiter had just brought out—in front of me. His voice was completely flat, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Chloe just got back. Don’t ruin her mood.” “Just make do with this tonight. Next time, I’ll take you to a fully vegan place.” Chloe wiped the corner of her mouth and chimed in. “I honestly don’t get what’s so great about eating grass anyway. Brandon is the only one who has the patience to put up with your pickiness.” Looking at the table, there wasn’t a single dish ordered for me. So, this was what he called “putting up with me.” The two people in front of me were sharing food from the same plates, laughing and whispering with an intimacy that left no room for anyone else. I was completely, invisibly shut out. During that entire dinner, I stared at those cold, greasy onion rings. They sat under the dim restaurant lights, glistening with a nauseating sheen. Compared to the expensive steaks on the table, they looked cheap and pathetic. Maybe to them, I was just like this complimentary side dish—something cheap, tasteless, and easily discarded. I slowly put my fork down. Suddenly, everything became clear. People with different tastes can never truly share a table.

When Chloe went to the restroom, the heavy wooden door shut. The very next second, Brandon’s words rained down on me, heavy with anger and blame. His face was a mask of frustration, and he made no effort to hide his irritation. “Who are you throwing a tantrum for? It’s just a dinner! Is it really that hard for you to just sit here and be nice?” “Chloe flew thousands of miles back just for our wedding. She’s finally home, and she just wanted some good comfort food.” “You and I eat together every single day. Haven’t you had enough of me? Do you really have to ruin this one meal for her?” A sharp, stabbing pain twisted in my stomach. I had been running around all day finalizing our wedding venue, and I hadn’t even had a sip of water. My stomach was burning. “Then what am I supposed to eat?” I couldn’t stop the lump from rising in my throat. “I’ve been working on our wedding details all day too. I haven’t eaten a single bite.” “Even if you wanted to treat her to her favorite steak, couldn’t you have ordered just one vegetarian dish for me?” “In your eyes, do I only deserve the leftovers and free sides?” My words hit a nerve, and his face flushed with embarrassment. Just then, Chloe returned. Brandon and I were locked in a tense standoff, the air in the booth thick with hostility. She quickly stepped in to play peacemaker. “Hey, it’s just a dish.” “Let’s just order something else.” Right on cue, the waiter opened the door and brought in a plate of pasta. Chloe saw it and laughed, trying to break the tension. “Brandon, do you remember our junior year of high school?” “You said you were saving up for something, but you wouldn’t tell me what. You even asked your mom to advance your allowance for the next six months. For that half-year, you didn’t even have enough money for lunch. I had to feed you out of my own allowance. Back then, we used to share a single bowl of cheap pasta every single day.” Brandon’s expression instantly softened as the memory washed over him. “Yeah, I was so broke I only ate once a day. I almost starved. Thank god for your late-night pasta.” “Looking back, it’s hilarious. But seriously, what were you saving up for back then anyway?” Brandon thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t remember. Probably some sneakers or something. It’s not important now.” Chloe waved over the waiter. “Let’s not talk about the past. Can we get a plain vegetarian pasta for Evelyn?” The waiter pointed to the clock on the wall. “I’m so sorry, miss. Our kitchen is closed, and we’re shutting down for the night.” “No need,” Brandon spoke up, making the decision for me. “She’s not that hungry anyway. No need to add anything.” I didn’t care about what he was saying. I just sat there, frozen, my mind stuck on the timeline Chloe had just mentioned. I remembered now. During our junior year of high school, my family refused to pay for me to attend the National Merit Summer Camp. I was the top student in our entire grade. Even our counselor said it was a tragedy for me to miss it. Brandon found out. Two weeks later, he secretly paid my tuition. I had no idea where he got that much money. By the time I found out, I was already sitting on the bus heading to the camp. But I never knew… I never knew that Chloe’s money was mixed in with it. Back then, he had lost so much weight. Yet, he was always stressing about making sure I ate enough, acting like it was an emergency if I lost even half a pound. It turned out that the moments that had defined my life, the memories of Brandon’s love that I cherished the most… All had the shadow of another woman over them. Brandon was now gently guiding a slightly tipsy Chloe out of the restaurant, his hand carefully supporting her back. When Chloe’s foot slipped and she fell into his chest, he caught her. A soft, tender smile spread across his face, his eyes filled with gentle affection. I hadn’t seen that look on him in a very long time. He had loved me once, fiercely and sincerely. The only problem was, I was the only one who still remembered it. To Brandon, it was ancient history.

After dinner, I clutched my aching stomach, walking far behind the two of them as they stumbled along, leaning on each other. Chloe was swaying, unable to walk straight, her body practically draped over Brandon. The alcohol had flushed her cheeks, making her already striking features look even more vibrant and alluring. She stopped in front of the Uber, blinking playfully. “Brandon, thank you so much for tonight,” she said. Then she glanced back at me and added, “Oh, and thank you too, Evelyn.” I said nothing. Brandon held Chloe steady, bending down to carefully check the driver’s details and whispering to him to drive safely. The driver chuckled and teased, “Man, you really look out for your girlfriend.” Brandon froze. He instinctively glanced back at me, while Chloe’s eyes darted to me for a split second. The silence was deafening. But tellingly, neither of them made any move to correct him. It was as if they shared a silent, mutual agreement to let the lie stand. I lowered my head, staring at the faint bruise on the back of my hand from an IV drip I had a few days ago. The physical wound had healed, but a much sharper, deeper pain was boring into my chest. Only after Chloe’s taillights disappeared around the corner did Brandon finally remember my existence. He tossed the car keys to his assistant, Mark, his tone returning to its usual cold, indifferent pitch. “I have to go back to the office for some paperwork. Mark will drop you at the subway station, and you can take the train home.” The private, pre-arranged ride went to Chloe. But I, his actual fiancée, only got a ride to the nearest subway entrance. I suddenly wanted to laugh, but my lips wouldn’t move. I shook my head and held up my phone. “No need. I already ordered an Uber.” I hadn’t said anything aggressive, yet Brandon stared at me for a long time. His eyes were dark and heavy. “Evelyn, what are you throwing a fit about now?” I used to be terrified of that look. In the past, I would have immediately softened, apologized, and begged for peace. Now, my lips twitched, but I felt absolutely zero desire to speak to him. I wanted to ask him: Why did it have to be an all-meat steakhouse? Why did he pick up Chloe first and completely ignore me? Why didn’t he correct the driver about who his real girlfriend was? But now, none of it seemed to matter anymore. Before I could even speak, he seemed to read my mind. He frowned, a look of deep exhaustion washing over his face. His voice carried the impatient irritation of a man forced to explain himself. “She’s a girl, and it’s late. It’s not safe for her to go home alone. Letting the driver think I’m her boyfriend isn’t a big deal.” “Chloe is your friend too. Why do you have to be so petty over every little thing?” “Evelyn, stop being so immature.” He finished his speech and stood there, waiting for my usual surrender. I stared at him, my eyes wide and dry. I wanted to scream, to fight back, but I didn’t even know where to start. After a long silence, I heard myself speak. My voice was incredibly quiet. “I’m fine. An Uber is just easier. I’ve had a long day, and I just want to go home and sleep.” Looking at my pale face, he seemed to finally remember that I was his fiancée. He took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly. He reached out to grab my wrist. “Fine. I’ll have Mark take you all the way home.” “No,” I said, stepping back to avoid his touch. “My ride is here.” His hand remained frozen in mid-air. A look I didn’t care to decipher flashed in his eyes, but his voice remained stubborn. “Suit yourself.” I had already turned my back on him and climbed into the Uber. My phone buzzed. It was a confirmation notification for a reservation at a vegan restaurant I had booked weeks ago. But there was not a single text from Brandon. To him, letting Mark drive me home was already his way of bowing his head. I swiped left and deleted the notification. Rain started to patter against the car window, blurring the streetlights. People drift apart just like that. An umbrella offered after the storm is over… is an umbrella I no longer want.

The moment I got home, I opened my food delivery app. I typed in “vegan” and watched a colorful array of options pop up. I ordered everything I wanted. Only then did I allow myself to sink into the couch. There were so many options out there, and I could easily provide them for myself. I didn’t need to force myself to sit at a fancy table just to maintain appearances, starving while staring at a plate of pathetic side dishes. I finished every single bite of my food. The moment the warm water hit my stomach, I finally felt like I was alive again. Suddenly, the sound of the front door unlocking cut through the quiet. The door swung open, and a wave of barely suppressed rage walked in. “Evelyn! Why the hell aren’t you answering your phone?” It was Brandon. I unlocked my phone and scrolled down. There were dozens of texts, all demanding to know where I was. I answered instinctively. “I was eating. I didn’t see them.” Then, a soft, soothing female voice came from behind him. “Brandon, don’t be mad. Evelyn probably just didn’t hear it.” Chloe was here too. I looked down and saw she was wearing my slippers. They were the exact same style as Brandon’s, just a different color. Brandon noticed where I was looking. Without a single word of apology, his expression remained entirely defensive. “Chloe’s apartment had a power outage, and she can’t stay there. She’s staying with us tonight.” The night before our wedding, my fiancé brought another woman into the home I had spent months decorating. I frowned, my voice dropping cold. “Are there no hotels in this city?” Seeing my expression, Chloe flinched. She shrank back behind Brandon, her fingers clutching the hem of his jacket. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Brandon, Evelyn… I can just go to a hotel. Please don’t fight because of me.” Brandon’s frown deepened. He took Chloe’s hand and stepped forward, putting himself between us in a protective stance. “No. I brought you here, and you’re staying here.” His body instinctively shielded her as he glared down at me. “She’s a girl, and we are her only two friends in this city. You want her to stay in some random hotel alone?” “I thought you said Chloe was your best friend.” I didn’t look at him. My eyes were fixed on Chloe, who was hiding behind his back. Chloe had been my only friend. Memories of our past rushed back like a tidal wave. When I was being bullied in middle school, she was the one who stood in front of me, grabbing my hand and dragging me out of that dark alley. She had been shaking with fear herself, but she still hugged me and said, “I’ll always stand by you, Evelyn.” Because I had once survived a terrifying flight with severe turbulence, I developed a crippling phobia of flying. When my sales performance at work plummeted and I was about to get fired, she was the one who used her connections to help me land international clients. She volunteered to do all the traveling for me. For six months, she flew back and forth overseas while I managed things from the office. This time, to make it back for my wedding, she had worked double-time, pushing herself to the limit. She even had to use an oxygen mask on the flight back due to sheer exhaustion. When I first met her, she was Brandon’s childhood friend. But looking back… I had known her just as long as he had. In my heart, she was even more important than Brandon. The memories faded, and my gaze locked onto Chloe. But somewhere along the way, I had been relegated to a mere background character, a disposable piece of their lives. She stood side-by-side with Brandon, and the line between us was drawn crystal clear. The girl who had promised to always stand by me was gone. I pressed my lips together and remained silent. Seeing my silence, Brandon’s frustration flared into pure anger. His eyes fell on the empty food containers on the coffee table. His lips tightened into a hard line, and his brow furrowed. “This trash again. You’re always eating this garbage. Can’t you eat like a normal human being for once?” “Evelyn, you’re twenty-four, not fourteen.” “It’s not like we can’t afford real food. Do you really have to eat this rabbit food just to make yourself feel special?” “For years, I’ve had to watch you eat these disgusting, weird-looking vegetables. It honestly makes me sick.” His voice was like ice, every word a sharp blade aimed directly at me. “Brandon! What is wrong with you?” Chloe pulled at his sleeve from behind, and Brandon seemed to realize what he had just said. His lips parted, but no words came out. I stood there, completely numb, staring at the man in front of me as if he were a total stranger.

I wasn’t born a vegetarian. When I was fourteen, my stepmother moved in with her son. He was a chubby, spoiled kid who loved meat. From the moment they crossed the threshold, I lost my right to eat meat. One night, I reached for a pork chop on the table. My stepmother slapped my hand away and forced me into the basement. There, she made me eat a giant bowl of raw, rancid pork fat mixed with grease. I threw up until my stomach was empty, but she kept forcing it down my throat. Since then, the smell of grease and meat was forever linked to the damp mold of that basement, to screaming, humiliation, and terror. When I eventually passed out from malnutrition on the school track, it was Brandon who carried me to the nurse’s office. The school nurse lectured me about extreme dieting, telling me I needed a balanced diet. She thought I was starving myself to be skinny. I lay on the cot, too weak to explain. Brandon’s eyes were bright, but his words were sharp. He corrected the nurse with fierce conviction. “Ma’am, you don’t know anything about her home life. Don’t judge her.” He was the class president back then, and I was the girl whose financial aid forms never had a parent’s signature. After the embarrassed nurse left, he turned to look at me. My pale reflection was mirrored in his eyes. It was the first time I felt the sting of exposed pride. He didn’t say a word, but for the first time, I felt the urge to cry and tell someone everything. Back then, his eyes were filled with pure, aching heartbreak for me. Nothing like the raging, hateful man standing before me now. Suddenly, I realized I didn’t know him at all. What made it so hilarious was that he knew everything. He knew exactly why I couldn’t eat meat. Three years ago, when my trauma resurfaced and I had a severe eating disorder, I was seeing a therapist, taking hormone pills, and crying myself to sleep every night. He had held me tight and whispered, “I don’t care if I have to eat grass with you for the rest of our lives. It’s no big deal.” I had believed him. I was so incredibly stupid. Tears spilled over as a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Yes! I’m not normal! So what?” “It’s not like you just met me today.” “I haven’t changed, Brandon. You did.” I stared directly into his eyes, my gaze cold and sharp. “We’re done. Let’s call off the wedding.” “From now on, you never have to force yourself to eat ‘disgusting’ food ever again.” As those words left my mouth, a massive weight lifted from my chest. I grabbed my phone and my car keys, turning toward the door. Chloe grabbed my arm, her voice frantic. “Evelyn, it’s pouring outside! Where are you going to go?” She turned to Brandon, shaking his arm. “Brandon, say something! Don’t just let her leave like this!” He didn’t move. He stood there in heavy, stubborn silence. I shook Chloe’s hand off my arm and walked out. Just as I stepped into the hallway, Brandon’s voice cut through the air behind me. “She has such a temper. You can’t even say a word to her anymore.” “Let her go! She doesn’t even have a family. Let’s see where she thinks she can go!” I let out a cold laugh. The pain in my heart was numb now. My body shook, but my steps only grew steadier. The people closest to you always know exactly where to plunge the knife. The day I handed him the blade, I should have known he would eventually drive it into my heart.

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We had been married for five years, and my husband, Carter, had never once forgotten any of my preferences or allergies. Everyone envied me. They said I had hit the jackpot with him. Until I found a hidden, passcode-protected file on his laptop. It was titled: [Her Instruction Manual]. I clicked it open. There were 256 entries in total. “Entry No. 3: On the first day of her period, her lower back aches. Put a heating pad on her bedside table and leave some Advil. Don’t ask if she’s in pain—just do it.” “Entry No. 47: When you get into an argument, don’t try to reason with her right away. Wait exactly 20 minutes, then text her a cute cat meme. She’ll use that as an excuse to break the silence.” “Entry No. 189: Never buy her designer bags for her birthday. Write her a handwritten letter instead. She’s a sucker for that sentimental stuff.” Every single bullet point was terrifyingly accurate. I scrolled all the way back to the very first page. Created: Seven years ago. We hadn’t even met yet back then. With trembling fingers, I clicked on the file properties to see the author’s name. Author: [Maya Song]. His ex-wife. Just as I shut the laptop, Carter walked into the bedroom, carrying a mug of hot tea and a freshly microwaved heating pad. “It’s the first day of your cycle, right? You look a bit pale.” His smile was incredibly gentle, warm, and attentive. But looking at his face, for the very first time, I felt like a machine operating strictly according to a piece of software. “No. 47 says exactly how to handle me when we fight.” I looked at him, my voice barely a whisper. “But does any entry in there tell you what to do when I find out about this list?”

The hand holding the mug didn’t even shake. That was the most sickening part of his reaction. Carter calmly set the mug and the heating pad on the nightstand. His movements were identical to those on the first day of my period for the past five years—placed gently, with the mug handle facing to the right, making it easy for me to grab with my right hand. “Which entry?” he asked quietly. I turned my phone screen toward him. The screen was stuck on that very page: 256 entries. Author: [Maya Song]. He stared at it for three seconds. “That’s something from a very long time ago.” “Seven years ago,” I said. “We’ve only known each other for six.” “I know the timeline.” He sat on the edge of the bed, keeping an arm’s length of distance between us. “Maya… she was very observant. She used to write down random notes. When we got divorced, she wiped her shared notes, but I forgot to delete this specific folder from my local drive.” He had used it for five years, yet claimed he “forgot to delete it.” What a pathetic excuse. “So, for the past five years, you’ve been living with me by following a cheat sheet she wrote?” “It’s not a cheat sheet.” He frowned slightly. “I observe what you like on my own, too.” “No. 189,” I challenged. He didn’t reply. “On my birthday last year, you wrote me a handwritten letter,” I said, my voice cracking. “I cried for half an hour because of how touched I was.” “I wrote that letter myself.” “But the “idea” to write it wasn’t yours.” I pushed the mug two inches away from me. He stared at those two inches of distance. His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t say a word. Suddenly, I wanted to know what the very last entry was. I scrolled down to the bottom. “Entry No. 256: If she stays silent for more than five minutes, do not press her. Give her space. But afterward, you must initiate the apology, even if you feel you did nothing wrong.” Looking at those words, I silently started a timer in my head. One minute. Three minutes. Carter didn’t leave, nor did he speak. Right at the four-minute mark, he stood up. “You should get some rest. I’ll be in the study.” “Entry No. 256, right?” I called out to his retreating back. He stopped at the doorway, his back to me, his shoulders tensed in a rigid, straight line. “Vivian.” He rarely called me by my full name. “What do you want me to say?” I didn’t know. But I knew I didn’t want to hear another pre-programmed response pulled straight out of someone else’s manual. He walked out. He left the study door open. I unlocked my phone, took screenshots of the entire document, and emailed them to myself. Then I opened my contacts list and scrolled to the “Emergency Contact” section. Carter’s name was still at the very top. My thumb hovered over it for three seconds. I didn’t change it. But when I closed the app, I opened Safari instead and typed in a search: [How to file for an uncontested divorce.]

The next morning, he got up at 6:30 AM. I knew because I had barely slept all night. Faint sounds drifted from the kitchen—the sizzle of butter in a pan, the low hum of the espresso machine. At exactly 7:00 AM, he knocked on the bedroom door. “Breakfast is ready.” I sat down at the dining table, and he slid a plate in front of me. A sunny-side-up egg. The yolk was perfectly runny, the edges crispy and golden. “Entry No. 11: She only eats sunny-side-up eggs with runny yolks. Never serve them hard-boiled or over-easy; she hates dry yolks.” I poked the yolk with my fork, watching the golden liquid run across the white. “I have to head into the office today,” he said, holding his coffee mug as he sat across from me. “I might be home late tonight.” “Okay.” “There’s beef stew in the fridge. You just need to microwave it for lunch.” “Sounds good.” As he walked to the entryway to put on his shoes, I spoke up. “Carter.” He turned around. “Yeah?” “Where is Maya now?” His movement paused for a fraction of a second as he tied his shoelaces. “I don’t know. We haven’t spoken since the divorce.” I nodded and didn’t press further. Once he left, I went into the study and opened his desktop computer. I knew the passcode; it was our wedding anniversary. I searched “Maya Song” in his file manager. No results. Then I searched just “Maya.” A folder popped up. It was titled: [Old Archives – Sorted]. I opened it. It wasn’t documents inside. It was screenshots of text messages. The dates ranged from eight years ago to six years ago. It was his chat history with Maya. I scrolled through a dozen images and stopped at one. In that screenshot, Maya had sent a message: [If you meet someone else in the future, when you do something nice for her, don’t constantly ask yourself why. Just trust your gut. If you have to look up a guide to remember what she likes, it means you don’t actually care about her enough.] The next message was Carter’s reply: [I used a guide for you, too.] Maya replied: [And that’s exactly why we got divorced.] I stared at those words for a long time. So, I wasn’t the first one. Before closing the folder, I noticed a calendar reminder flashing in the bottom right corner of the screen. I clicked on it. “October 17th: Vivian’s birthday. Is the letter ready?” Today was October 5th. He was already preparing for it. For lunch, I didn’t heat up the beef stew. I went out and grabbed pasta at a diner down the street. At 3:00 PM, I booked a consultation with a family law firm. “What legal services do you require?” the receptionist asked. “Divorce.” “Understood. Could you give us a brief overview of your situation?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What was I supposed to say? “My husband treats me beautifully—so beautifully that he acts like a computer running code written by his ex-wife?” “I just want to know… if one party files for divorce and the other party refuses to sign, what is the legal process?” After hanging up, my phone screen lit up with a text from Carter. [Did you heat up the stew? It’s chilly today, make sure to wear a jacket if you go out.] I stared at the message. Without those 256 entries, I would have found this sweet and caring. But now, I just wondered: “Which entry number is this?”

He returned at 8:00 PM. He was holding a bag from the bakery down the street—the one I frequented. “I was passing by and grabbed this,” he said, placing the bag on the table. “Hazelnut mousse cake. You said you wanted it last week.” “Entry No. 82: She always talks about dieting, but when she’s stressed, she craves sweets. Don’t tell her to restrain herself. Just buy it for her.” I didn’t touch the bag. He changed into his loungewear and came back out. Seeing the cake still sitting untouched on the table, he didn’t say anything. He sat on the opposite end of the sofa and turned on the TV. Two throw pillows sat between us, marking the distance. In the past, I would have naturally curled up next to him, resting my feet on his lap. Today, those two pillows felt like a concrete wall. “Carter.” “Yeah?” “Do you think you actually know me?” He set the remote down and turned to face me. “What do you mean by that?” “Literally. Aside from that folder on your computer, do you actually know me?” He was silent for a few seconds. “I think I do.” “Tell me one thing. One thing that isn’t written in that document.” He looked at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “You… you always flip your pillow over before you sleep because you like the cool side.” “Entry No. 19.” I knew it was No. 19 because I had read through every single one of them until 4:00 AM the night before. But I didn’t call him out. “You always taste the soup before you add salt when you’re cooking,” he added. “Entry No. 44.” “You hate answering phone calls in an Uber because you find it too noisy.” “Entry No. 103.” Every single one was correct. Every single one was written by Maya. I let out a soft, hollow laugh. “What else?” He seemed to sense that something was deeply wrong. His voice softened. “Vivian, I know that file makes you uncomfortable. But it was just a reference. A lot of things…” “A reference,” I repeated, cutting him off. He stopped. “The first time you wrote me a handwritten letter, you got ink on your hand and left a smudge on the corner of the paper.” “I kept that letter in my nightstand drawer.” “I thought it was proof of how adorable and clumsy you were when you tried hard for me.” His lips pressed into a tight line. “But now, I don’t know if you wrote that letter because you actually wanted to, or because you opened your notes, saw No. 189, and decided it was time to check it off your list.” “Vivian.” “Is there a difference?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. I stood up and picked up the hazelnut mousse from the table. I couldn’t stand seeing it there anymore, looking like a completed task on his daily checklist. I walked into the kitchen and put it in the fridge. As I shut the fridge door, I noticed a sticky note on the side. “10/6: Vivian’s annual physical results are ready. Remind her to pick them up.” Tomorrow. I stared at the note. Then I peeled it off, folded it twice, and tossed it into the trash can. The next morning, I went to the clinic and picked up my results myself. Everything was normal. But I didn’t tell him. At 2:00 PM, I called the law firm back. “I’d like to schedule an in-person consultation to draft the separation agreement.” While the receptionist was confirming the time, a text popped up from an unknown number. [Hi Vivian, this is Maya Song. I think we need to talk.]

We met at a quiet coffee shop. On a weekday afternoon, the place was mostly empty. Maya arrived wearing a beige trench coat, her hair tied back in a loose, effortless knot. She looked sharp, elegant, and much calmer than I had anticipated. She sat down and spoke first. “I’m sorry for texting you from an unknown number. He doesn’t know I’m here.” I nodded. She slid her phone across the table. On the screen was a text message Carter had sent her three days ago. [Maya, she found the manual. Can you please help me explain it to her?] I stared at the screen. He didn’t even try to explain it to me himself. He went to “her” for help. Maya took her phone back. “I didn’t reply to him. I came here on my own accord.” “That folder,” she said, looking straight at me. “I did write it back then.” I waited for her to continue. “When I was with Carter, I always felt like he was emotionally tone-deaf. He cared, but he had no idea how to show it. So I got into the habit of writing down my preferences for him.” “But later, I realized…” She paused, taking a sip of her coffee. “The fact that he needed a manual to remember how to love me meant he was never actually using his heart to feel me.” “So, I filed for divorce.” “But he kept the folder,” I said. “Yes.” “And then he used it on me.” She didn’t dodge my gaze. “I didn’t come here today to make excuses for him. I came to tell you something else.” “Out of those 256 entries, some of them weren’t written by me.” My fingers tightened around my coffee cup. “What do you mean?” “No. 189, the handwritten letter,” she said. “My original note was about buying books, not letters. He changed that one himself.” I froze. “No. 47 as well,” she continued. “I originally wrote that he should wait half an hour and send an apology text. Not a cat meme. He changed that.” “And No. 3. Back then, I wrote about buying heat patches for my back. Not a heating pad and pain meds.” She looked at me gently. “I only wrote about a hundred entries. Now there are 256. The extra ones are things he added later.” “They are about you.” I looked down at my coffee. The foam had dissolved, leaving behind irregular white patches. So, he hadn’t followed her script entirely. He had edited it. He changed the parameters and added new rules. But somehow, that made me feel even worse. Because it proved he was fully aware of the folder’s existence. He had opened it, compared me to it, and adjusted it. He calibrated it line by line to make it fit me perfectly. Like upgrading a piece of software. He hadn’t “forgotten to delete it.” He was actively using it. Seeing me sink into silence, Maya stood up. “I’ve said what I came to say. What you do next is entirely up to you.” She stopped at the door and looked back one last time. “He cares about you, but the way he goes about it is deeply flawed.” “A person who needs an instruction manual to love… well, the thicker the manual gets, the bigger the underlying issue is.” I didn’t reply. I sat in that coffee shop until the sun went down. At 6:30 PM, Carter called. “Are you home yet? What do you want for dinner?” I stared at the caller ID. His contact name was still saved as [Husband]. I hit decline. Then I opened my contacts and changed my emergency contact from Carter to my mom. I opened my Notes app and created a new note. Title: [My Instruction Manual]. For the first entry, I typed five words: “No one else writes this.” I saved it and closed the app. Then I opened the email my lawyer had sent me three days ago: [Draft Separation Agreement Template]. I filled out the first page. My phone buzzed again with a text from Carter. [Why did you decline? Bad reception? I’ll call you again.] I didn’t reply. I took the handwritten letter he had given me for my birthday last year and placed it inside a plain manila envelope. Using a pencil, I wrote one word on the seal: [Return]. He didn’t know yet. He probably thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He probably thought that in a couple of days, if he sent a cat meme and bought me another slice of cake, everything would go right back to the pre-programmed track of Entry No. 47. But I was no longer a character in his manual.

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Ethan had a custom-built car. It was heavily modified with a highly complex dashboard, completely different from a regular car. I had no idea how to drive it. He treated this car like his ultimate treasure. In our six years together, he was willing to give me anything—except this car. He wouldn’t even let me touch it. I wasn’t even supposed to stare at it for too long. Once, unable to resist my curiosity, I secretly took the car keys. That was the first time he ever raised his voice at me. Afterward, he spent hours alone in the garage. That night, he didn’t hold me to sleep, which was completely unlike him. Today, he called me to pick him up from a bar. He was slurring his words, completely wasted, yet he kept muttering under his breath, “Don’t touch my car…” I rushed to the bar and helped him out. He was too drunk to even stand straight. Helpless, I had to order a private driver through a designated-driver app. Before long, a woman ran up to us, panting. “Hi, did you request a private driver?” I nodded. She slid into the driver’s seat. Familiarly, she started Ethan’s custom car without a moment of hesitation. “You seem very familiar with this car,” I remarked. “Yeah,” she replied, nodding. “My ex-husband had the exact same one.” I remained silent. Ethan, who had been fast asleep with his head on my shoulder, suddenly opened his eyes.

In the rearview mirror, Ethan was staring at her. My heart sank. “Really?” “What a coincidence.” Ethan’s breathing turned heavy. After a moment, he closed his eyes again. He silently shifted his head off my shoulder and rested it against the car seat. It was dead silent for the rest of the ride. But I knew he wasn’t asleep. Taking advantage of the dim light as we drove through a tunnel, he glanced at the woman twice. His gaze was complicated and unreadable. “Were you married?” I suddenly asked. I was asking the woman, but Ethan spoke up first. “No.” “They didn’t make it to the altar,” Ethan said, his voice cold. “She ran away.” “In the end, she didn’t get the life she wanted anyway.” “I bet she regrets it now. Too bad for her, I’m engaged.” These words didn’t sound like they were meant for me. The next second, the car suddenly lost control. It spun twice and slammed hard into a streetlamp. My head whipped forward and crashed against the front seat. A sharp pain flared up, and my vision went blurry. “Ethan… it hurts…” No response. When I finally regained some consciousness, I heard Ethan shouting at the woman outside the car. “How can you still be so reckless?!” She was terrified, sobbing uncontrollably. “The car… I’ll pay you back…” “Can you even afford it?!” Ethan roared. The woman flinched. “We… we built this car together… I bought the parts. I know exactly how to rebuild it…” “Chloe!” Ethan cut her off, his voice cracking. “Would it kill you to just show me some weakness for once?!” “You deserve to end up like this!” Through the cracked window, I watched Ethan. He was holding Chloe’s shoulders, frantically checking her for injuries. In an instant, I felt cold from head to toe. I tried to speak, but my throat felt blocked by something heavy. I couldn’t swallow, and I couldn’t breathe. The rest of the ride home was a blur of numbness. The car jolted over bumps. I forced myself to sit up straight, flinching away when Ethan tried to put his arm around me. Finally, we reached the garage. The smart camera scanned Chloe’s face as she stepped out, and the garage door unlocked automatically. “Welcome home, Master,” a mechanical female voice chirped. Chloe froze. I froze, too. My mind went completely blank. I turned to look at Ethan, but he quickly avoided my eyes. Chloe pulled up her PayPal QR code. I took a deep breath, trying my best to maintain my dignity. Beep. Her Snapchat profile popped up as a linked contact. It was the exact same account Ethan always stared at in a daze. It was the account he didn’t have added, yet had forced his assistant to memorize, searching for her on hiring apps. “Ethan, did you invest in this designated-driver app?” I asked. Ethan blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Just a small investment for fun. Why?” I ignored him, sent the payment, and walked straight upstairs. Over the years, he had invested in so many platforms. Trendy apps, startups, all kinds of industries. But there was one constant. They all had an employee. Named Chloe Bennet. “Valerie, can you make me a cup of almond milk?” Seeing that I was ignoring him, Ethan shamelessly followed me. “You didn’t have dinner because you came to pick me up, right? How about I make you some pasta?” For a few seconds, I stayed silent. The words hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down. I wanted to say, Let’s call off the engagement. Let’s act as if these six years never happened. Let’s pretend my feelings were just wasted. But when I thought of the hard times we had shared, of the everyday life we built together, I felt like suffocating. I could only hide in the kitchen under the excuse of making almond milk. The pot of water began to steam. My eyes grew wet and blurry. Ethan leaned against the doorframe, crossing his long legs, casually playing with our engagement ring in his hand. “Where do you want to go for our honeymoon?” he asked. Next month was supposed to be our wedding. “Ethan, I don’t want to marry you anymore.” The kitchen fell dead silent. The smile faded from his face. He raised an eyebrow, looking at me as if he hadn’t understood. I repeated myself. “We are not getting married.” “The engagement is off.”

Ethan didn’t say anything to that. That night, I slept on the very edge of the bed, my back turned to him. Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me tightly into his chest. His grip was suffocating. “Stop being mad. Just go to sleep.” I stared blankly at the photo on the nightstand. It was taken during our poorest year. Ethan had borrowed an old camera just to take it. The gear was outdated, the background was a dingy, cheap room, but the cubic zirconia ring on my ring finger sparkled brightly. It was the record of his first proposal to me. Memories and photos had been yellowed by time. The cheap ring band had scratched through countless memories, but he didn’t seem to care anymore. He used to be the quickest to notice my mood changes. Now, he couldn’t even tell if I was genuinely heartbroken or just throwing a tantrum. “Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice was barely a whisper. “Why didn’t you just confess that the person you stalk every day is the ex you almost married?” “What am I to you, Ethan?” Ethan’s breathing hitched. He grabbed his phone and tossed it into my lap. “It’s been over between her and me for a long time. There is no way we are getting back together.” “If you don’t believe me, check it yourself. There’s no need to keep clinging to this.” I took a deep breath. My nose stung, and I barely forced back the tears. “Never mind.” Ethan sat up. When he was drunk, he talked too much. He became stubborn and unfiltered. “I don’t get it. What is there to cry about?” “Did I deprive you of money? Or love? Valerie, I swear on my life, I have never wronged you. You’re just overthinking things.” He paused, his alcohol-scented breath brushing against my face. “Can’t we both just take a step back?” “I really don’t have the time to constantly guess what’s on your mind. Just be good, okay?” I pulled the blanket over my head and closed my eyes. “Stop talking.” He paused for a second. Then he started again. “Valerie, I think you—” “I said stop talking!” The bedroom fell so quiet that only the sound of our breathing remained. His, and mine. “Shut up,” I whispered through clenched teeth. “Can you not hear me? Shut your mouth.” We ended the night on a terrible note. Our cold war lasted for nearly two weeks. During that time, he sent me a few text messages, trying to throw me a bone so I would drop it. I didn’t reply. When we finally met again, it was Ethan’s birthday party. He had drunk so much that his chronic stomach ulcer flared up. His friend called me to pick him up. “Don’t touch me!” “Let go!” A crowd of people couldn’t hold Ethan down. He usually didn’t turn red when he drank, but right now, a dull flush spread from his neck to his ears. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor around his feet. He was completely, utterly wasted. “Look who’s here! Stop acting like a damn fool!” Carter said, pushing Ethan toward me. Looking at the drunk man, I frowned. A surge of annoyance rose from the bottom of my heart. I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. “We’re going home.” The man who was acting wild a second ago instantly quieted down. Ethan gently squeezed my hand. “Babe, you go back first.” “I’m fine.” His stomach issue was a remnant from his early days of heavy business drinking. When it got bad, the pain would keep him in bed for days. I used to have to hold him and massage his stomach for hours just to make him feel better. “You know your own body!” I tugged at him. “Let’s go home!” He didn’t budge. “Then I’ll wait for you,” I said. “It’s late,” Ethan glanced at his watch. “Your period is coming up in a couple of days, right? Don’t stay up late. You’ll get cramps.” “Go home and take some painkillers first just in case.” “Go on. I’ll have the driver take you home.” It felt like he really didn’t want me to enter his social circle. Carter pulled me out of the VIP room. “Chloe was here earlier. He’s in a bad mood.” “Between you guys…” Before he could finish, I heard a faint crying sound. Walking down the hallway, I saw Chloe standing by the restroom. Her face was covered in tears. She instinctively turned her head away, quickly wiping her eyes. “Miss Moore,” she said, her voice muffled. “If you hadn’t interfered, Ethan wouldn’t hate me this much, would he?” Only then did I notice she was clutching a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. On it, the words 【I Owe You One Favor】 were written. “He wrote this for me himself,” Chloe smiled bitterly. “But he won’t honor it now.” “If I had made up my mind sooner back then, if I hadn’t run away right before the wedding in March, maybe things would be different.” “If you knew that I once had a child with Ethan, would you still marry him?”

The color drained from my face. My heart pounded like a heavy drum, each beat sending a jolt of pain through my nerves. “Too bad the baby didn’t survive,” Chloe whispered, tracing the paper. “He hates me. He even hates the memory of that baby. He didn’t even show up to the funeral.” She looked up at me. “Are you twenty-six this year?” I pressed my lips together. “No wonder Ethan was so desperate to marry you this year.” Chloe pulled a photo out of her bag. It was a wedding photo. On the back, there was a date. This was me at twenty-six. She shoved the photo into my hand. “Miss Moore, has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like I did when I was younger?” “Want to see?” In that split second, I felt nothing but pain. An overwhelming, suffocating pain. It took all my strength just to raise the photo. I saw the radiant woman in the picture, and on her ring finger was the exact same engagement ring I wore. Tears poured out of my eyes, splashing loudly onto the floor. I felt a string snap in my head. Without another thought, I began to tear the photo to pieces. I held it under the running tap, ripping it over and over until it became a mushy pile of white pulp. I locked myself inside a toilet stall. My engagement ring slipped down the drain with the rushing water. Outside the door, Ethan’s voice echoed. “Money! I have so much money now!” He was drunk, sounding like he was laughing and crying at the same time. “Why couldn’t I have had it sooner…” “If I had been successful back then, would things have been different? Chloe, I don’t blame you… You just made the best choice you could at the time… It’s just that it hurts. My heart hurts so much…” “We can’t go back.” “Chloe, please come to my wedding.” “…” I walked out of the stall. I saw Ethan leaning heavily on Chloe, his body almost completely draped over hers. “Ethan.” Maybe he didn’t hear me. Or maybe, he just didn’t want to look back. He simply walked away, holding onto Chloe, disappearing from my sight. A sharp, sudden cramp flared up in my lower abdomen. I looked down. Red was blooming on my white pants. At that moment, I thought, Ethan guessed right. My period really did come early. Only this time, it hurt more than ever before. Eventually, the cleaning lady found me. She was too terrified to speak clearly, stuttering into her phone as she called 911: “Blood! There’s so much blood!” The streetlights flashed outside the ambulance window. My consciousness drifted in and out. In the haze, a voice seemed to ask, Was it worth it? The two years we spent running from debt collectors, moving from place to place with no real home—was it worth it? Starving and freezing with him, working multiple part-time jobs until my health was ruined—was it worth it? Helping him find clients, getting tricked at a business dinner and almost getting assaulted—was it worth it? Pain flooded every single pore of my body. My blood was hot. My tears were hot. Even the April breeze was warm. Yet my teeth chattered, and my body shook. It felt as if I had been stripped naked and thrown into the dead of winter, my flesh turning blue, my mind going numb. “It’s so cold…” “Ethan, warm me up…” I mumbled instinctively. My mind drifted back to that cold winter night when we huddled together in a drafty, tiny rented room, shivering. Ethan would always pull my freezing feet and press them against his warm stomach. “Sss—it’s freezing! Stop moving.” “Keep squirming and see if I don’t throw you out into the snow!” I would just laugh, spoiled by his affection, and slide my cold hands down the back of his neck. “I want to freeze you!” “Ethan, you have to keep me warm for the rest of my life!” “Of course I will,” he had grumbled, making a face. But where was he now? I believed him for six years. Ethan, you liar.

“You need to keep your emotions in check. Many early-stage pregnancies are lost due to severe emotional stress,” the doctor advised. “We’ve stabilized things for now. Stay in the hospital for two days for observation. If everything is fine, you can be discharged.” I stared blankly at the ceiling. I remembered a long time ago, a doctor told me I would probably never get pregnant. My body was too broken. My menstrual cramps were so severe they could cause me to faint. All of it was from staying up late and drinking heavily with clients back in the day to help Ethan’s business. After that, Ethan never took me near baby stores again, and he never brought up the topic of children. We both thought we would never have one. Yet, it chose to appear at a time like this. “Do we need to notify your family?” the doctor asked. I gently shook my head. Beside me, my phone buzzed constantly. It was Ethan calling. Annoyed, I turned it off completely. I spent the next two days in peaceful, quiet solitude. When it was time to sign the discharge papers, I finally turned my phone back on. A flood of messages and missed calls popped up. Where are you? Call me back. Or at least text me. The restaurant staff said you were taken to the hospital? Is it serious? Which hospital are you in? I’ll come see you as soon as I get back from my business trip. With his current position in the company, he didn’t need to go on business trips anymore. I casually checked his IP address on social media. He was in Boston. And Chloe’s Twitter account had just posted a new update. 【First time driving interstate. 30 hours round trip to Boston. So nervous.】 I guess he just couldn’t let her go, so he secretly followed her. “No need,” I replied to his text. “I’m going back to pack my things. I’ll be moving out soon.” The next morning, I loaded my suitcases into the trunk and sat in the Porsche Ethan had gifted me. He bought it for me when his first major project got funded. I had treasured it so much that I barely drove it over the years. I never expected that starting it up again would be for the purpose of leaving him. Vroom— The movement pulled at my lower abdomen, and I instinctively let go of the gas pedal. I decided to hire a private driver. To my surprise, ten minutes later, it was Chloe who opened the driver’s door. “Please fasten your seatbelt.” My first instinct was to cancel the ride. But it was early morning, and getting another driver would take too long. I simply turned my head away, closed my eyes, and rested against the seat, pretending to sleep. “Don’t want to live the life of a rich wife anymore?” Chloe laughed. “How ungrateful. If you were in my shoes, driving long distances without sleep and having to take another job right after, do you think you could survive?” She talked to herself the entire way. I didn’t utter a single word. “Ethan bought me a villa, and he gave me a black card. He said he wanted to make sure I’d be taken care of for the rest of my life…” The car speed slowly began to drop. “But he told me to never contact him again.” “Why? I lost my baby, I lost my home, and now I don’t even have a single shred of hope left…” I turned to look at her, but before I could react, the car suddenly accelerated and crashed straight into the guardrail. BANG— I don’t know how much time passed. I opened my eyes in a daze, seeing the gray sky and Ethan’s panicked face hovering over me. The Porsche was sturdier than Chloe had anticipated. “She grabbed the steering wheel, and the car hit the guardrail,” Chloe sobbed, sitting on the ground. “I was so scared, Ethan… I almost died…” I wanted to laugh. Her acting was so terrible, her excuse so ridiculous. If this were a novel, readers would scream at how cliché it was. But Ethan believed her. He couldn’t bear to see Chloe cry. A single tear from her was enough to make him lose his mind. It made him completely ignore my condition just to shake my arm, accusing and pointing fingers at me. “I already agreed to send her away! Valerie, how can you be so vicious? Do you really have to drive her to suicide?” “Are you insane?!” I remained silent for a long time. Then, I looked up, smiled, and swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat. “Yeah.” “I left my hometown to follow you, endured endless hardships, believed you over and over, and wasted six years of my youth on you.” “If I weren’t insane, how could I have done all those things?” I didn’t want anything anymore. Just let me leave. Give me my freedom.

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I was the biological daughter they finally brought home, but I suffered from a severe, life-threatening peanut allergy. On my very first day back, my father set a brutal house rule: everything we wanted—from clothes to food—had to be decided by drawing cards. Only drawing the Ace of Hearts would get you what you asked for. For two years, I never drew it once. Meanwhile, Olivia, the adopted daughter, got the Ace of Hearts every single time. On the night of my worst allergic attack, my throat swelled shut. I knelt on the floor, begging them for my EpiPen. My father merely tossed the deck of cards at my face. “You know the rules. Draw the Ace of Hearts, and you get the medicine.” To survive, I hid an extra Ace of Hearts in my sleeve. But my brothers caught me. They crushed my fingers under their boots, kicked my EpiPen away, and locked me in the sub-zero basement freezer. They had no idea that was the last time I would ever beg them for help. My throat felt like it was clogged with burning, crushed glass. My airway was swelling and closing up at a terrifying speed. Clutching my neck in agony, I fell to my knees on the polished marble floor, gasping desperately for air. But nothing came. The lack of oxygen turned my face a dark, suffocating purple, the veins on my forehead bulging violently. “Medicine… please… give me…” With the last of my strength, I reached out and grabbed the hem of my father, Arthur’s, expensive suit pants. Today was my twentieth birthday. It was also Olivia’s. Just ten minutes ago, Olivia had hand-fed me a piece of her “specialty” birthday cake. I have a severe, lethal allergy to peanuts. Even a single crumb of peanut dust could trigger anaphylactic shock. And my entire family knew this. Arthur looked down at me from his towering height. There was no pity in his eyes, only deep, cold disgust. He slowly pulled a gold-rimmed deck of cards from his pocket and fanned them out across the coffee table with a sharp slide. “You know the rules of this house, Tori.” “If you want something, you rely on your luck.” “Draw the Ace of Hearts, and the EpiPen is yours. If not, you’ll just have to tough it out.” I was the biological daughter of the Sterling family, lost and raised in the slums for eighteen years. When they finally brought me back two years ago, I thought I finally had a family. But on my very first day, Arthur established this ridiculous rule. He said the Sterling family didn’t raise useless leeches. He said luck was a form of strength. My clothes, my allowance, even my three daily meals—everything had to be decided by drawing a card. I accepted it, weeping silently, hoping to please them. But for two whole years, no matter how I drew, that Ace of Hearts seemed to actively evade me. I never held it once. Meanwhile, Olivia—the girl who had stolen my life for eighteen years—somehow drew the Ace of Hearts with perfect, suspicious precision every single time. She won the master bedroom that belonged to me. She won my parents’ affection. She even won the right to go to the hospital when I was sick, leaving me to suffer in my room. “Come on, Tori. Draw your card.” Olivia, wearing a custom-made designer gown, clung affectionately to our eldest brother, Julian’s, arm. She blinked her innocent, doe-like eyes, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “If you don’t draw it, you’ll have to lie on the floor all night again, just like last time.” The air in my lungs was almost completely gone. My vision began to blur, and the only sound in my ears was my own violent, wheezing gasp. I knew that if I didn’t get that epinephrine shot right now, I would die on this floor. And this time, I wanted to live. My hand trembling violently, I reached toward the cards on the table. The moment my fingertips brushed the back of the deck, I used every ounce of my remaining strength to slide a card from my sleeve into my palm. It was a discarded card I had picked up by the road a few days ago. The Ace of Hearts. I flipped it over. The bright red heart, the sharp letter A. “It’s… the Ace of Hearts…” I gasped out the words, my eyes clinging to the emergency medicine box on the table. All I had to do was grab that pen, stab it into my thigh, and I would live. I reached out, my fingers inches away from the box. Smack! A large, heavy hand slammed down, grabbing my wrist so hard I heard my bones creak.

It was Julian. He let out a cold sneer and, with his other hand, flipped a card from the deck on the table. It was another Ace of Hearts. “Tori! You dare cheat in this house?!” Julian roared, throwing my hand back violently. I crashed hard onto the floor, the back of my head slamming against the sharp edge of the coffee table. A dizzying pain exploded in my skull. “You would resort to such disgusting, cheap tricks just to get your way?” Julian looked down at me, his gaze filled with utter revulsion, as if looking at a piece of trash. “Olivia said you were rotten to the core, and I didn’t believe her.” “Now I see. Growing up in the slums only taught you how to steal and cheat!” My second brother, Ethan, pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and let out a scoff. He was the youngest chief of surgery in the city’s top hospital. Yet, as he looked at my suffocating, purple face, he showed absolutely no medical compassion. There was only mockery in his eyes. “Alright, cut the act.” “Clinically speaking, severe peanut allergies can trigger shock, but your face is clearly purple because you’re holding your breath.” “To get attention, you’re actually faking an allergic reaction? How pathetic.” I looked at Ethan in absolute despair. I wasn’t faking. My windpipe was almost completely swollen shut. Every attempt to breathe felt like swallowing razor blades. I shook my head frantically, tears streaming down my face. “Save… save me…” I crawled toward Ethan, trying to grasp the tip of his leather shoe. My third brother, Jax, stepped forward and brutally kicked my hand away. He was a professional race car driver, known for his explosive, violent temper. “Get your filthy hands off Ethan!” Jax snarled, his face twisted in disgust. “Since you have dirty hands and love to cheat, you need to be taught a lesson.” Without warning, he lifted his heavy combat boot and stomped directly onto my right hand. Crack. The sickening sound of bones snapping echoed clearly in the quiet living room. “Ahhh—!” I opened my mouth to scream, but my swollen throat could only produce a pathetic, airless hiss. The pain of crushed fingers shot straight to my heart. My entire body convulsed, cold sweat instantly soaking through my thin shirt. “Can’t even take a little pain? And you call yourself a Sterling?” Jax ground his boot down harder, laughing coldly. Then, he turned to the coffee table, picked up the box containing my EpiPen, and tossed it into the trash can. To make sure I had no hope left, he grabbed a cup of hot black coffee from the table and poured it directly into the trash, soaking the medicine. My last hope of survival was completely destroyed by my own brothers. Olivia shrank back into our mother, Eleanor’s, arms, covering her mouth in mock terror. “Jax, stop. Tori looked like she was really hurting…” “Oh, Olivia. You are far too sweet and naive.” Eleanor patted Olivia’s back comfortingly. When she looked at me, her eyes turned ice-cold. “Today is your and Olivia’s birthday. You just had to ruin it and cause a scene, didn’t you? You always want to make everyone miserable.” “Arthur, lock her in the basement freezer. Let her cool her head and think about what she did!” Arthur nodded coldly. “An ungrateful brat needs to learn her lesson. Lock her up for the night. Let’s see if she dares to play tricks again.” Laughing and chatting, they escorted Olivia toward the dining room. There was a six-tier designer cake waiting for her, surrounded by a mountain of luxury gifts. Meanwhile, I was dragged away like a dead dog by the family bodyguards. And thrown into the dark, sub-zero basement freezer.

The heavy metal door slammed shut with a resounding thud, cutting off all light and sound from the outside world. The temperature inside was negative ten degrees. The biting, freezing air instantly pierced through my thin clothes, making me shiver violently. But the cold wasn’t the real killer. It was the lack of oxygen. My allergic reaction was reaching its final, fatal stage. My vision went completely pitch-black. My brain spun from the lack of oxygen. I curled up on the freezing floor, gasping like a fish out of water, my mouth wide open, unable to pull in a single breath. Why? I asked myself a thousand times in the dark. I was their biological daughter. I was the one who had been kidnapped and suffered for eighteen years in poverty. Why did they give all their love to an adopted impostor? Was it because I didn’t know how to act cute? Was it because I lacked Olivia’s elegant, high-society manners? For two years in this house, I had lived worse than a dog. Whenever Olivia casually said she “liked my bedroom,” I was kicked out and sent to the drafty attic. Whenever Olivia claimed my poor grades “embarrassed the family,” I was forced to drop out of college and do chores around the house. Even this cursed card-drawing game was suggested by Olivia “by accident.” And every time, she drew the Ace of Hearts. I used to think I just had bad luck. I thought I didn’t deserve happiness. But tonight, as death gripped my throat, the truth finally flashed through my fading mind. There was no such thing as luck. How could anyone draw the Ace of Hearts perfectly, every single day, for two straight years from a full deck? It was a setup. A blatant, slow-motion murder disguised as a game. My consciousness was slipping. My heartbeat grew faint, and my limbs lost all sensation. Just when I thought I was going to die in this cold, dark tomb, a warm, kindly face flashed in my mind. My grandfather, James Vance. “Chloe, if those Sterlings ever make you unhappy, come to New York. My home will always be your shield.” James Vance was the head of the Vance Group, one of the most powerful conglomerates in New York. Two years ago, when I was found, James had tried to take me in. But Arthur, obsessed with his public image, refused to let me go. Back then, I naively believed my biological parents would eventually love me. I was wrong. Dead wrong. I couldn’t die here. I refused to die in this filthy, dark corner! I hadn’t exposed Olivia’s lies yet. I hadn’t made these blind monsters pay for what they did to me! A sudden, fierce will to live erupted from the depths of my soul. I bit my tongue hard. The sharp pain brought a brief moment of clarity. Groping around in the dark with my unbroken left hand, I grabbed a heavy, frozen leg of ham from the shelf. Using every ounce of strength left in my body, I smashed it against the small glass ventilation window in the corner.

Bang! Bang! Shatter! The sound of breaking glass sliced through the dark. Fresh, freezing night air rushed into the room through the broken window. I dragged myself over and pressed my face against the jagged frame, inhaling greedy, desperate gulps of air. The cold air stung my swollen lungs like needles, but I could breathe. I was alive. Using my elbows, I squeezed my bruised body through the small window frame and crawled out. Outside was the dark backyard of the estate. The night was silent, save for the wind rustling the leaves. Dragging my broken right hand, I limped out of the Sterling estate. The night wind was freezing, but the fire of hatred in my chest burned hot. I didn’t go to the hospital. I knew that the moment I checked into a local clinic, the Sterlings would find me. They would drag me back and find slower, crueler ways to torture me. I had to run. I had to escape this hell completely. Ignoring the agonizing pain in my hand and my weakened body, I walked all the way to the city’s grand suspension bridge. The water below was deep, dark, and wild. I took off my worn-out canvas sneakers and placed them neatly by the guardrail. Then, I tore a piece of fabric from my shirt and pressed it hard against the open wound of my broken hand. The dark red blood dripped onto the concrete, staining the floor and the metal railing. Finally, I snagged the bloody piece of cloth on the wire mesh of the barrier. Without looking back, I walked away into the dark. From this day on, Victoria Sterling was dead. She died on the cold night of her twentieth birthday. I walked to a public payphone on a deserted street corner and dialed a number I had memorized but never dared to call. “Hello? Who is this?” James Vance’s voice came through the receiver—old, but commanding and powerful. Hearing his voice, my mask of strength crumbled, and tears flooded my eyes. “Grandpa James…” “It’s me… Tori…” “Save me…” The line went silent for a second, followed by a sharp, furious gasp from James. “Tori?! Where are you?! Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’m sending my men right now!” Thirty minutes later, three black Mercedes-Maybachs pulled silently into the dim alleyway where I was hiding. A dozen suited bodyguards immediately surrounded me. When the head butler saw me covered in blood, pale and shivering, his eyes turned red with anger. “Miss Victoria, look what they did to you…” “Mr. Vance is waiting at our private medical facility. Let’s get you home.” Sitting in the spacious, heated leather seat of the car, I watched the city lights fade away. A cold, dark smile crept onto my lips. The Sterlings. Olivia. Everything you owe me, I will collect. With interest.

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The Window He Couldn’t Climb Back Through I had a crush on the football star next door for three years. The first time he climbed into my room, he took my virginity. I thought my crush had finally come true. Until the next day, when I heard him bragging to his teammates with my own ears: “The one I really want to chase is the cheer captain, and Mia was just practice.” He told me to buy emergency contraception myself, then turned around and kissed another girl in public, turning me into the laughingstock of the whole school. Crying, I deleted every memory related to him, gave up on the university I had applied to for his sake, and instead applied to Cornell University, a thousand miles away. But just when I decided to disappear completely, the man who had destroyed me with his own hands climbed into my room again and again. “Didn’t you say you liked me? Then why are you running now?” I smiled and pushed him away. “Chase, this time, get out of my life.” After I came home from cheer practice and was about to change for a shower, my bedroom window was smashed. A football rolled to my feet. Startled, I quickly grabbed my clothes and covered my chest. “Who is it?” Chase poked his head out from behind my curtains, then jumped in through the window with a charming smile. “My football.” He was wearing only a pair of gray athletic shorts, sweat rolling down his pecs to his abs, his bronze skin glowing in the afternoon sun. He took a few steps toward me, covering me in one huge shadow. When he bent down to pick up the ball, the back of his hand brushed over my ankle and calf, and his hard knuckles sent a tremor through me. I froze in place, my heart pounding like a drum. Chase’s friends whistled from downstairs outside my house. He called out the window: “Coming.” As he jumped out the window, he turned back and winked at me. “Sorry I broke your window, Mia. I’ll pay for it.” I walked to the window, and through the gap in the curtains, I saw Chase and his friends laughing and talking downstairs, making my heart race wildly. Chase was my neighbor, and he was also the school’s football star. I had liked him ever since he moved here three years ago. As an introvert, I forced myself to join the school’s cheer squad just to get closer to him. And today, he had actually appeared in my room?! The little person in my head was screaming like crazy. What I did not expect was that he climbed in through my window again that night. “Jesus! You scared me!” I jumped up from my bed. He leaned down and moved close to my face. “I told you I’d pay for your window.” “Are you insane? You came over at night just to pay for my window?” “Is that not allowed?” “Fine, then. Fifty dollars.” “Are you sure you don’t want any other compensation?” Chase hooked a finger around the Pisces necklace on my neck and pulled me closer. I smelled the lemon-scented body wash on him, and droplets of water from the ends of his hair fell onto my chest, bringing a trace of coldness. Then he bit my lower lip and reached into my nightgown from behind. Like a frightened cat, I arched my back, yet I could not help responding to his touch and kisses. But he suddenly stopped, let me go, and gave me a playful smile. “Do you want me to keep going?” I opened my eyes and looked straight into his ice-blue ones. “Yes.” Maybe my movements were too clumsy, because Chase whispered in my ear: “First time?” “Yes.” He frowned. “Are you sure you want to do this?” “I’m sure.” “I’ll be gentle.” Without warning, he shoved inside me in one hard, violent thrust. I desperately held back my moans, biting Chase’s shoulder as my fingers dug into his solid back. I listened to my parents moving around downstairs, every noise magnified in the dead of night. Thwack Thwack Thwack I felt like I had been nailed to a cross. I did not know how long passed before he finally rolled over and lay beside me. “I have to go back, beautiful.” His tone was a little cold as he put on his clothes. Then he jumped out the window. I stared at the fluttering curtains, feeling as if I had lost something. Chase’s scent, his warmth, his breathing, everything felt like a dream.

The next morning, I ran into Chase while practicing cheer with my teammates. My face was bright red, and I did not dare look him in the eye. But he acted as if nothing had happened. After practice ended, I passed by the football team’s locker room. I heard Chase chatting with his teammates. “You really slept with Mia?” I felt a little embarrassed and was just about to quietly leave. Then I heard Chase say carelessly: “The one I want is Gianna, but I was afraid Gianna would think I’m too inexperienced, so I just used Mia for practice.” Chase’s words were like a muffled thunderclap from a clear sky, striking me without warning. Gianna was the cheer captain, the object of every guy’s fantasies at school. It was a hot afternoon, yet I felt cold all over. The conversation in the locker room continued: “Sounds like you two had quite a night.” “Did Mia make all those scratches on your back?” Chase said arrogantly, “Mia should be grateful that her first time was with me. There are plenty of girls chasing me.” One guy cried out: “What the fuck? You actually took Mia’s virginity?!” “As expected of our captain!” Another guy commented: “Mia is pretty, but she’s too skinny, and her chest is smaller than a guy’s. She can’t compare to Gianna.” Chase irritably threw the football at him, cutting him off. “I was just caught up in the moment, and besides, she seemed like she was having a hard time holding back too… she was the one who asked for it.” The others understood without needing more words and started teasing him one after another. “Mia usually acts like a nun, but who knew she was that slutty in private?” “The way she looks at you normally is like she wants to eat you alive.” The laughter in the locker room grew noticeably louder. I bit my lower lip hard and clenched both hands into fists. The sound of high heels came from the end of the hallway. I suddenly snapped back to myself and fled in a panic. I hid in the restroom and cried silently in front of the mirror. My self-respect was completely destroyed. If I had not heard it with my own ears, I would never have believed that the person who had been tangled with me so intimately last night was the same person. So it turned out that people could do something so intimate without love. And even at the most emotional, irrational moment, people could still lie and deceive. What I had foolishly believed was my happy ending was nothing more than a joke in someone else’s mouth. The more I cried, the more miserable I felt. Yet I did not even dare make a louder sound, and my body kept trembling. After a long while. A notification popped up on my phone. It was from Chase. [I forgot to remind you about something. I didn’t wear a condom last night. Go buy emergency contraception yourself, and make sure you remember to take it. Good girl.] I stared at the message, not knowing what to reply. He and I had done it twice last night, and I clearly knew there would be risks, but I did not dare ask anything of him. I had even felt secretly happy that he had not worn a condom, as if we could completely belong to each other and become one. I never thought all I would get in return was his mockery. In that instant, I became much more awake. I turned on the faucet and washed away my tears. After tidying myself up, I walked out of the restroom, rode my bike, and went to a pharmacy far from home. After I got home and swallowed the pill, I sat on the carpet in my bedroom in a daze. Through the window, I could see his room. I watched him listen to music in his room and run on the treadmill. To me, that had been the most charming view in the world. Now, I only felt bitterness. And he had broken into my window, then closed it with his own hands. Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, lights came on one after another, then went out one after another. I did not know how long had passed when my best friend Lily called me on video. “Mia, why didn’t you come to my birthday party tonight? “Gianna showed up uninvited. While you’re not here, she’s trying to seduce Chase!” After Lily finished speaking, she turned the camera around. Gianna was wearing a miniskirt that barely covered her butt, sitting on Chase’s lap.

Just as those boys had said, she really was sexy, with her chest and hips like taut balloons. Gianna had her arms hooked around Chase’s neck and was saying something in his ear. Chase’s hand rested casually on Gianna’s thigh, and she made him burst out laughing. Even through the screen, I could feel the intense, flirtatious atmosphere. A sharp pain went through my chest. I had secretly loved Chase for three years and approached him carefully, yet I had become a sex toy for his practice. So it turned out that Gianna could get him so easily. Then the people at the party started playing a dare game. Gianna drew a dare to do fifty push-ups in the missionary position and needed to choose a male guest to cooperate. As expected, Chase immediately stood up. Everyone started cheering. Gianna blushed and obediently lay down on the couch. Chase braced himself above her and did dozens of push-ups in one go. Several times, their lips touched. On the last one, I did not know whether he had finally run out of strength or whether Chase had done it on purpose. He failed to hold himself up and fell directly on top of Gianna. The screams around them grew even louder, nearly lifting the roof off. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Amid everyone’s frantic cheering, Chase wrapped his arms around Gianna and kissed her wildly. I stared at the screen, my heart feeling as if it had been cut by a knife. On the other end of the call, Lily complained: “Mia, do you see him clearly now? This is the man you’re obsessed with.” “Don’t blame me. If I didn’t let you see it with your own eyes, you would never give up.” I gave a bitter smile. “I don’t blame you. I already knew.” I only blamed myself for being too stupid. Lily said with heartache: “I’m going to help you teach that jerk a lesson. If he doesn’t love you, he could have just rejected you. Why did he do that to you last night?!” “That was your first time! Stop loving him!” “I won’t, Lily,” I said calmly. “I’ve already decided. I’m going to Cornell University with you. But you have to help me keep it a secret for now.” After hanging up, I applied to Cornell University online. I had originally wanted to apply to the University of Alabama because I hoped I could still go to the same school as Chase in college. It had the best college football team in the country. But now, I decided to stay far away from Chase, even though I was afraid of the cold and did not really like the North.

While showering that night, I saw myself in the bathroom mirror. There were still obvious hickeys on my chest. Memories of last night flooded back to me uncontrollably. I shook my head hard, forcing myself to forget everything about last night. Then I found the roughest washcloth and scrubbed my skin over and over until my whole body turned red. I clumsily tried to wash away this most unbearable memory of my life. Sure enough, Chase did not send me any more messages. I mocked myself, wondering what I was still expecting. I fell asleep in a blur through my tears. Early the next morning, while I was still fast asleep, I suddenly felt in my dream that someone was chasing me. I woke with a start. But when I opened my eyes, what I saw was a familiar jaw and Adam’s apple. It was Chase, lying beside my bed. I glanced at the pushed-open window, realizing he had broken into my room through my window again. Seeing that I was awake, Chase stroked my face with his hand. I hurriedly turned my head away and pushed him off. “What are you doing in my room again?” Chase froze for a second, then laughed at me. “Why are you still shy?” I sat up in bed, put some distance between us, and pointed at the window. “Get out!” Not only did Chase not move, he asked me with a playful grin: “Why didn’t you text me back yesterday?” I opened my phone, and he really had sent me a message at one in the morning. “Did you take the emergency contraception?” Looking at that cold message, I said sarcastically: “Don’t worry. I took a whole box. I’m more afraid than you are of getting pregnant with your bastard.” Chase’s jaw tightened, and his expression darkened. But very quickly, he gave a playful smile again. “What? Are you mad at me? How about we do it again as my apology?” He took a condom out of his pocket. “This time I’ll remember to wear one.” Then he pulled me closer and reached into my nightgown. A tingling sensation ran through me, but I quickly came back to my senses and struggled desperately. But at five foot three, I was no match for this six-foot-three man. “Chase, what exactly do you want?” “Is playing with me and humiliating me the only joy in your life?”

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Inside the VIP fitting room of Vera Wang’s New York flagship, as three assistants gave up trying to zip my six-figure custom gown, the truth finally hit me: this grand wedding Julian Thorne had spun for me was a lie from the very start. He stood a few feet away, showing no remorse. All I saw was impatience. “Ava, is your personal trainer just for show? It’s a standard size.” He looked me over like a bad investment. “Whatever. The wedding is next week. Starve yourself for a few days, and you’ll squeeze into it.” Same old bullshit. Ever since his ex-girlfriend, Chloe, moved back to town, Julian had made a habit of treating me like an afterthought. Like the custom JAR perfume I got for my promotion. He gave it away without a second thought, only because Chloe played the ‘poor girl’ card. “Babe, it’s just a symbol. Order yourself another bottle. Don’t be so petty.” Or when he smiled and handed me an almond cookie, conveniently forgetting my lethal allergy. “Try it. Chloe says these are the best in New York.” Now, watching me suffocate in this ridiculous dress, he didn’t show a shred of guilt. Instead, he snapped a picture and sent it straight to Chloe. I silently slid the five-carat engagement ring off my finger. He must have forgotten something. He was the one who gave the designer the measurements. It wasn’t some “standard size.” It belonged to someone barely five-foot-three. Chloe. And me? I’m five-foot-eight with a healthy, athletic build. He loves problem solving? Good. Because starting today, his biggest problem is finding a new bride. …… Julian took the ring out of the velvet box. He spoke to me like he was soothing a disobedient pet. “Stop throwing a tantrum, Ava. You’re acting like a child.” He reached for my hand, trying to force the ring back on. I took a step back, dodging his grasp. “Fine. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have called you fat.” He acted like he was doing me a massive favor. “But every woman drops a few pounds to look good on camera. I’m looking out for you.” I stared at my reflection. The hemline hovered awkwardly around my calves. I looked utterly absurd. I didn’t say a word. This was the 99th time he had told me to “look at the bigger picture.” The past 98 times, I sucked it up. But this time? How the hell was I supposed to compromise? Chop off my own legs to fit into a dress that wasn’t even made for me?

“It’s just a bit short.” Julian circled behind me, slipping into his corporate problem-solver mode. “Have the designer alter it. I’ll pay for the rush fee.” The head designer gave an apologetic smile. “Mr. Thorne, we can take it in, but the proportions are fixed. We can’t change the length. Unless we switch to an off-the-rack gown.” “Off-the-rack?” Julian’s jaw tightened. “The wedding is next week. If we pivot to off-the-rack now, the press will have a field day. They’ll say Julian Thorne couldn’t even get his wife a dress that fits.” “Then postpone it.” My voice was cold. “Out of the question.” He shut it down instantly. Then, his face lit up with a brilliant idea. “You can grab a backup dress to walk down the aisle. As for this Vera Wang… let Chloe wear it as her bridesmaid gown. It’s practically her size anyway. No point letting it go to waste.” I almost laughed. “Since when is Chloe my bridesmaid?” “She’s all alone in New York. She wants to be part of the big day. Don’t be like that.” “My bridal party is full. Six girls. Who exactly is she replacing?” “Simple.” He didn’t even look up from his screen. “Just cut your college roommate… what’s her name… right, Harper. Drop her. She didn’t even show up to my party last time. You two aren’t that close.” “That’s because she was litigating a big case in London.” “Then cut someone else.” He finally looked up, annoyance written all over his face. “Ava, women swap out ‘best friends’ like last season’s handbags. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.” Right on cue, his phone buzzed. A FaceTime call. Chloe. His face immediately softened. He flipped the camera toward me. “Babe, look. Isn’t the gown gorgeous?”

I stood before the mirror, trapped in the wrong gown, listening to my fiancé and another woman plan my wedding. Like it was theirs. An assistant walked over, handing me a milkshake. “Miss Hayes, you look pale. Have some of this to keep your blood sugar up.” I was about to decline, but Julian had already hung up. He grabbed the cup and shoved the straw to my lips. “Drink. You’ve been going non-stop all morning.” Cold liquid slid down my throat. Then came the smell—the heavy scent of almonds. My eyes dropped to the cup, fixing on the brown flecks swirling in the milky white. All color drained from my face.

My throat clamped shut. A searing burn crawled up my neck. I was already gasping for air. “This is… almond!” I grabbed his sleeve, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “My… EpiPen…” Julian stared at the empty cup, turning deathly pale. “How the hell is it almond…” He tore through my handbag. “The EpiPen…” His eyes darted away. “Last time you said it was expiring soon, I took it out. Chloe was stressed and sleep-deprived, so I… I gave it to her to keep by the bed. Just in case.” “I’m taking you to the ER!” He threw an arm around me, rushing me toward the door. Right then, his phone rang. Julian glanced at the screen. He pushed me aside to answer it. “What? Your stomach hurts? From that juice?” I slumped against the icy wall. The world began to blur. All I could hear was a deafening ringing in my ears. Seconds later, Julian hung up, sheer panic in his eyes. “Look, Chloe drank your strawberry juice. She’s having severe stomach cramps. She’s by herself, Ava. I need to go to her, I can’t risk it.” He shoved his Black Card into my hand. “Call an Uber. Go to the nearest private ER and put it on my card. I’ll check on you later!” And with that, he bolted. He jumped into his Bentley and took off without looking back.

The suffocation was crushing me. I fumbled for my phone with shaking hands. The screen lit up. A push notification from Instagram flashed. It was Chloe’s latest post. In the photo, Julian was standing in an apartment kitchen, awkwardly wearing an apron, cooking something for her. The caption read: “True love isn’t what he says. It’s what he does.” Posted three days ago. I had a 102-degree fever that day. I begged him to heat up some soup for me. Yet he just handed me a room service menu. “Babe, order the truffle soup from the hotel. Room service makes it way better than I ever could. I can barely boil water.” It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook. He simply wouldn’t do it for me. My legs finally gave out. Before everything went black… I heard the horrified screams of the assistants, and the distant wailing of an ambulance.

I woke up to glaring hospital lights the next morning. A nurse was swapping out my IV bag. “A good Samaritan brought you in. Your airway was shut. You barely made it. We tried calling your emergency contact, Mr. Thorne… but it went straight to voicemail.” I shook my head. The number wasn’t wrong. The man was. I pulled up Julian’s number, ready to type out two words: We’re done. But before I hit send, the door swung open. Julian hurried in. Chloe trailed close behind him, looking pale and frail. When she saw me, she rushed to the bed with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh my god, Ava! You scared me half to death! When Julian told me you were in the ER, I made him bring me straight here.” She looked me up and down. Her eyes lingered on my swollen, blotchy face. Then, a giggle slipped out. “You know… you look kind of cute like this. Like an angry pufferfish.” She laughed and leaned into Julian’s chest. His mouth twitched, then froze under my dead stare. “But seriously, Ava.” Chloe covered her mouth, her eyes darting between us. “If you’re still swollen like this… what about the wedding? We can’t let Julian be the laughingstock of Wall Street, right?”

I instantly caught her drift. So, I filled in the blanks for her. “Yeah. How do you suggest we save Julian from embarrassment?” “Well…” Chloe looked down, biting her lip. “What if someone stood in for you? You know…to walk down the aisle.” “Exactly!” Julian snapped his fingers. “That’s it! Chloe will wear the dress and walk the aisle for you. You can stay home and rest. It’s purely a PR stunt, Ava. For the sake of both our families’ reputations.” He was getting carried away. “This way, Chloe doesn’t have to take a bridesmaid slot. Two birds, one stone! The ceremony is just a show anyway. We need to do some solid damage control.” He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to nod. My hands clenched. Blood backed up into my IV tube. Compromise? No. In his corporate sociopath brain, this was “risk management.” The “optimal solution.” A stand-in dress. And now, a stand-in bride. Right then, I was genuinely grateful. Grateful for that wrong-sized gown. Grateful for that lethal almond shake. They snapped me awake right on time. I looked at Julian. “Okay.” Julian and Chloe both breathed a sigh of relief. They smiled. I smiled too. They smiled because their little “PR crisis” was solved. I smiled because my new life was finally going to begin.

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An ESPN special is interviewing Sienna Hayes. The hottest sports reporter in the country. She stands by the noisy ice rink. She gently tells the camera about the man who made her fearless.He is a top hockey player. She says he often flew across North America. Just for a brief reunion. Whenever her work trips ended with no set return date,he waited at the airport. Once,he waited for three whole months. I was deeply moved,watching their love story unfold on screen. Until tonight.The night before my wedding. I see the rerun. Her eyes are red.She whispers to the camera: “You said I was your courage…but I don’t have the courage to keep you.” “But I don’t regret it.At least we had our wildest youth.” She accidentally lights up her phone. The lock screen shows a man kissing her passionately. He is Caleb Vance,my groom tomorrow. … My blood freezes instantly. I turn my head. I look at the sleeping face on my pillow. Identical features. The same star athlete I thought I knew.But how?How is this possible? He is the untouchable”Gentleman on Ice.” New York’s ultimate good man. On rainy days,he’d carry me down the whole street. Just so my shoes wouldn’t get muddy. When my fingers cramped from late-night piano practice,he never just told me to rest. He’d wrap his warm hands around mine.He’d massage them gently. For a second,I even have an absurd thought. Does he have a secret twin brother? I call everyone overnight. Family,friends,wedding planners. I say my dad is sick. I delay the wedding by a week. Before I find the truth,I won’t ruin our three years of sweet memories. Three years.I at least owe those three years a real answer.

My best friend Chloe picks up on it right away.”Aurora,did you and Caleb have a fight?” “No,”I pause.I decide to tell her everything. She is a top business lawyer. Maybe she can help me. She listens to the whole story. A long silence follows. Finally,she says softly: “Don’t worry.I will find the truth.” hat night,we slept side by side like strangers.I lay awake in the dark,listening to him breathe.In the morning,Caleb woke up and pulled me into his arms. “Baby,today you’re supposed to be the most beautiful bride in the world.” I pull away and glance at the abstract painting on the wall—part of his collection. I can’t help but ask,”When will you paint a portrait of me?” He rubs his morning stubble against my cheek. His voice is lazy,teasing. “Baby,I told you.I’m an athlete.Zero artistic talent. I only know how to appreciate art.” My chest tightens. In that interview,Sienna proudly showed a sketchbook— a gift from her lover. Every single page was a sketch of her, from quiet college libraries to crowded locker room hallways. My voice comes out tight.”My dad is sick.We have to postpone the wedding.” I met Caleb at a charity gala. Even then,he was already a league superstar. Now that I think about it… Did he take every single exclusive interview just to be near her? Then why did he ever choose me?

Caleb’s throat tightens. “Baby,I know your dad’s health comes first,but can we…” I cut him off. “I already told everyone.The wedding is postponed for one week.” Just one week. Caleb visibly relaxes. He turns and heads to the kitchen to make me breakfast. I watch his figure. Just like always. I ask softly: “If I had a terrible accident on tour,would it break you?” He freezes. The avocado toast rested in his hands.His eyes are intense and sincere. “If anything ever happened to you,I wouldn’t want to go on.Heaven or hell,I will go with you.” Without that interview,I would have thrown myself into his arms. I would have kissed him fiercely. But now,I just stand still,watching him.”Do you know Sienna Hayes?”

Panic flashes across Caleb’s face. A look I’ve never seen on him before. He looks like he wants to deny it. But in the end,he nods. Even though I suspected it,the confirmation still hollows me out. I force the words out of my throat. “So,she said you two are together.Is it true?” “Of course not!” Caleb grabs my hand,his grip tight and nervous. “Where did you hear that?Sienna and I are just college classmates.” “If there is anything else…she came from a poor family. I anonymously paid her college tuition back then.” Is this really all just Sienna’s delusion? But something still feels wrong. “Caleb.Did you do all those exclusive ESPN interviews…just to see Sienna at work?” He looks at me,helpless and a little wounded. “Baby,you are overthinking this. She’s a sports reporter.We cross paths at the arena. But there are so many teams in the league,so many reporters. Why would I go exclusive with one network just for her?” He gently pinches my nose. I used to love when he did that. Now my skin feels wrong. “Are you just having pre-wedding anxiety?Don’t let your mind run wild.”

I can’t find any flaws in his words. Maybe I really was just overthinking. Just then,his phone rings. It’s an unsaved number. He listens for only a moment before rushing out. He doesn’t even say goodbye. The doubts I just buried come rushing back. I walk into Caleb’s study. I rarely come in here. But now,I begin searching,even though I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Shelves full of trophies and sports magazines. Clean,neat.No trace of Sienna. I almost laugh at my own paranoia. But then I accidentally knock a locked wooden box off the desk. It hits the floor and snaps open.My heart stops. Inside the box is a thick sketchbook. My hands shake. I cover my mouth to stifle a scream. The man who swore he had no artistic talent lied to me. A cold dread crawls over me.I flip through the pages. Page one,page two…no exceptions. Page one.Page two.Every single page is Sienna.I collapse onto the floor.I can’t even cry. My phone vibrates.A text from Chloe: “Aurora,I hacked into Sienna’s Finsta…Something is wrong.” My hands shake so hard I can barely hold the phone. It takes me a moment to tap the link. The latest post reads: 【Flew back during the Christmas break just to wish him a happy wedding in person. Didn’t expect to get trapped at JFK for three days because of a blizzard.】 Posted three hours ago. I suddenly remember a detail from the interview. Whenever Sienna’s flights were uncertain,Caleb would wait for her at the airport. With trembling fingers,I open the location-sharing app on my phone. On the map,the blue dot is pulsing clearly at: 【JFK International Airport】

Caleb’s location stays at the airport hotel for three days. During those three days,Caleb sends me only one text: “Baby,the league called an emergency meeting.I’ll be back soon.” I pack my bags,ignoring the message. Chloe thinks there must be some misunderstanding,some hidden explanation. But I don’t care anymore. I scroll through Sienna’s secret account from the very beginning.Every word hits like an ice pick straight to the heart. 【Today he learned to make my favorite vanilla roasted chicken to welcome me home.】 That was the same stretch of time Caleb spent an entire week in the kitchen,burning batch after batch until he finally got it right. At the time,he smiled and told me, “I have to practice until it’s perfect.Only the best is worthy of my baby’s precious cellist hands.” … 【I want to have a daughter with him.We’ll name her Hope.】 That night,Caleb pressed close to my ear,his breath hot against my skin. “Baby,let’s have a child.Let’s name her Hope,okay?” … 【Always secretly wishing for a forever with you.Luckily,you want the same.】 That was the day I slipped Caleb’s engagement ring onto my finger. And in the photo attached,two hands clasped together under a streetlight.I recognized the watch on the man’s wrist.It was the limited-edition watch Caleb never took off.

Every single word matched up perfectly. It turned out I had been living in Sienna’s shadow all along. I drove to the airport. Even if it was over,I wanted to say it to his face. But the moment I stepped into the arrivals hall,I froze. Through the crowd,I saw them. Caleb’s back was to me. He was down on one knee,carefully tending to Sienna’s sprained ankle. After applying some ointment,he bowed his head,held her foot,and gently blew on it. Caleb had never once knelt down for me. Not like that. Swallowing the bitter burning in my throat,I walked toward them,step by step. “Caleb,the wedding is off.” He snapped his head up,panic instantly flooding his eyes when he saw me. “Ba—”He glanced quickly at Sienna and corrected himself. “Aurora,what are you doing here?” “Don’t get the wrong idea.I just bumped into an old college classmate at the airport.” My gaze bypassed Caleb and landed squarely on Sienna. She was indeed a seasoned reporter— she didn’t show a single trace of embarrassment or shame. Instead,she gracefully offered me her hand,her smile open and candid. “You must be Aurora.Hi,I’m Sienna,Caleb’s friend from college.” Like she had nothing to do with any of it. I didn’t take her hand. I kept my eyes on Caleb and repeated,”Cancel the wedding.” Caleb stiffened. “Just because I ran into an old classmate?Stop making a scene,Aurora.” Sienna let out a soft chuckle. “Aurora,please don’t misunderstand. I’m flying back to the West Coast right after the wedding.” Almost instinctively,Caleb grabbed her wrist. “Where are you going again?” “The Finals.” “Don’t go.Those events are way too chaotic.” Sienna pulled her hand out of his grip. “I just…need to see you happy with my own eyes before I can finally let go.” What a performance.Suddenly,my stomach violently churned.I bent over,dry-heaving. Only then did Caleb shift his attention to me,helping me sit down. He reached into his duffel bag,looking for something to help. I was about to tell him I was fine,when his eyes suddenly lit up,and he pulled me into his arms. “Aurora,you might be pregnant.” I froze.What a cruel,twisted joke the universe was playing on me. I looked over at Sienna. Sure enough,the color drained from her face. But a second later,she turned to Caleb,her voice going ice cold.”Caleb,Aurora is pregnant,and you’re still stressing her out? What kind of fiancéare you!” There wasn’t a single trace of pretense in her outrage.

The two of them in front of me only leave me deeper in confusion. If they’re so clearly in love,why drag me into the middle of it? And Sienna’s reaction didn’t seem like acting at all. In a daze,I let Caleb take me to get checked. Two months pregnant. There are only three days left until our wedding. The resolve I had to walk away begins to crack. When we get back to the house,Caleb stops dead.Sienna’s sketches are scattered across the floor,right beside my packed suitcase.He stared at them like he’d been struck by lightning. Then,right in front of me,he tears the sketchbook apart. “Sienna has always had a secret crush on me,”he says,desperate. “This has to be nothing but her own delusion.” “If you don’t want me anywhere near her,I’ll block her on everything after the wedding.No contact.Ever again.” Three years together.A new life growing inside me.In the end,I give in.I take my wedding leave and stay home to rest,taking it easy for the baby.I open Sienna’s secret account. The page has just been updated. 【Received the love letter he wrote.】 A love letter? My eyes instinctively drift toward the kitchen, where Caleb is carefully preparing food for me. My fingertips begin to tremble. Could it be that they…still haven’t cut ties?

Just then,my phone rings.It’s Chloe,her voice low and heavy.”Aurora,I need to see you right now.” In a quiet corner of a café,she slides an encrypted USB drive across the table to me. Just as I am about to plug it into my laptop,her hand presses down on mine. “Think carefully,”Chloe warns,her eyes searching mine. “Once you open Pandora’s box,there’s no going back.” I don’t hesitate for a second.I plug it in and go through every file.When I finally look up,my voice comes out shaking. “Chloe,help me book a doctor’s appointment.” When we return from the clinic,Chloe’s eyes are a mix of intense heartache and burning fury.”Aurora,let’s call off the wedding.I’ll help you.” “No.”A cold smirk plays at the corner of my lips. “Caleb has prepared such a grand,romantic gift for Sienna. How could I possibly not help him deliver it?” “Chloe,on the wedding day,help me contact all the major media outlets. Let’s have everyone witness this epic romance that played out across every arena in the country.” On the day of the wedding,the entire estate Caleb booked in the Hamptons is bustling with high-society guests. I had once tried to turn down such an extravagant affair. “Caleb,a simple wedding is enough.” But he had playfully pinched my nose,his voice dripping with affection. “Aurora,I want to give you the grandest wedding.I want all of New York to celebrate us.” I used to think this was his ultimate devotion. Only now do I realize that the person he wanted the world to see him with was someone else entirely. In the bridal suite,Sienna is waiting for me. She does my makeup with her own hands, and carefully helps me slip into the Vera Wang wedding gown she personally picked out for me. The makeup is flawless,the white dress breathtaking. Even the makeup artists standing by can’t help but gasp in admiration. But Sienna has no idea. The more perfect the illusion,the more lethal the poison hidden underneath.

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