Category: English

Because he was terrified his fallen comrade’s sister would be sent back to her impoverished hometown to suffer, my fiancé did the unthinkable. Overnight, Wyatt withdrew our joint military marriage application and filed a new one with Daisy. By the time the news reached me, there was only twenty-four hours left before the approval deadline. His young adjutant, Cooper, stood in my office, his face a mask of awkward apology. “Dr. Campbell, Captain Dominic said it’s a matter of saving a life. It’s a mercy.” “It’s a paper marriage. Just a legal loophole so Daisy can get base housing and medical coverage for her treatments. He knew you’d be the only one who could truly understand his sacrifice.” I picked up the signed leave authorization form on my desk—the one meant for our honeymoon—and ripped it into tiny, jagged pieces. “I don’t understand it,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “But I will stay out of his way.” … The shredded paper fell like artificial snow over my scuffed linoleum floor. Cooper’s face flushed a deep, painful crimson. “Dr. Campbell, Captain Dominic… he really had no choice—” “Address me as Dr. Campbell,” I interrupted, my tone flat, devoid of the warmth I usually carried. Cooper froze, his mouth parting slightly before he ducked his head. “Yes, Dr. Campbell.” “The Captain wanted me to tell you… as soon as Daisy’s status is secured and her treatment is underway, he’ll file for divorce and reapply with you immediately.” “He said… he said you are the only woman he has ever loved.” I picked up my scalpel from the tray and placed it deliberately into the sterilization box. The metal clicked against metal, a cold, final sound. “Who he loves is his own business,” I said. “But my name only goes on a marriage license once.” “Go back and tell him that Fiona Campbell does not wait on a bench for a backup slot.” Cooper’s face drained of color. He opened his mouth to speak, but the pager on my hip buzzed violently. The nurse’s station line was ringing at the same time. “Dr. Campbell, the patient in Bed 17 is in V-fib. We need a crash cart, now!” “On my way.” I hung up the receiver and grabbed my white lab coat off the hook. Before crossing the threshold, I spared Cooper one last look. “Are we done here?” He shook his head mutely, stepping aside to clear my path. I bolted down the corridor. But at the far end of the hallway, near the frosted glass windows, I caught sight of Wyatt. He was still wearing his tactical fatigues, shoulders tense as he stared out at the gray afternoon. Daisy stood beside him, holding a dark woolen coat, trying to drape it over his broad shoulders. Wyatt didn’t look at her; his gaze remained fixed on the horizon outside. But Daisy saw me. Her hand paused in mid-air, and she offered me a soft, timid smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I pulled my gaze away and pushed through the double doors of the trauma bay, the ghosts of our past rushing in to fill the silence. Wyatt and I had known each other for twenty-two years. We grew up in the same military housing, running wild across the sun-baked lawns of the base. He was the boy who chased off the bullies who threw rocks at me; I was the girl who patched up his torn school uniforms with clumsy stitches. Eventually, he entered the elite special forces, becoming the golden boy of the entire division. I earned my medical degree and climbed the ranks to become the hospital’s youngest attending cardiothoracic surgeon. To everyone on base, we were the perfect match. A foregone conclusion. When Wyatt got the keys to our two-bedroom officer’s quarters, he carried me over the threshold and spun me around three times, laughing. “Fiona,” he’d breathed into my hair, “we finally have a home.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Welcome home, Wyatt.” I designed every inch of that apartment myself. Wyatt’s deployments were relentless; he was rarely there. So, I took two weeks of saved leave, dragging myself through every home goods store and hardware shop in the city. On the day he returned, I covered his eyes at the door. When he opened them and saw the warm lights, the soft linen curtains, and the framed photos of us, he couldn’t speak for a long moment. Then he pulled me into his chest, his grip so tight it bruised, his eyelashes damp against my cheek. “Thank you, Fiona. I know how hard you worked.” I shook my head, burying my face in his neck. “It wasn’t hard. Not for us.” At our engagement party, the entire base showed up. Wyatt’s father, the retired Colonel Dominic, clapped him on the shoulder and roared, “You lucky bastard, you finally locked her down.” Mrs. Dominic took my hand, sliding a heavy, vintage gold filigree bracelet onto my wrist—a Dominic family heirloom. “Fiona, if Wyatt ever treats you poorly, you come straight to me. I’ll set him straight.” I smiled, a lump forming in my throat. Later that night, Wyatt slipped the diamond ring onto my finger and whispered in my ear, “Fiona Campbell, you’re stuck with me for life. Don’t you dare try to run.” Then, a month after our engagement, Daisy arrived. She was the younger sister of Garrett, Wyatt’s closest teammate. Garrett had taken a bullet meant for Wyatt during an ambush overseas. That debt was a thorn embedded deep in Wyatt’s soul. Daisy’s parents were long gone; Garrett had been her sole provider and protector. And now, he was in a military cemetery. Wyatt brought her back from her remote, impoverished hometown and settled her into the base guest lodge. He told me, “Fiona, she’s my responsibility now. I owe Garrett her life.” I nodded, understanding the weight of military brotherhood. “I know.” I went with him to the lodge to welcome her. She was fragile, painfully thin, swimming in oversized, worn-out clothes. When she saw Wyatt, her eyes lit up with a desperate intensity before she quickly cast them down, murmuring, “Hi, Wyatt.” Wyatt handed her a basket of fresh fruit. “We’re going to take care of you. Think of this place as home.” Daisy shook her head, tears spilling over her lashes. “I don’t have a home anymore.” Wyatt’s entire frame went rigid with guilt. I stepped forward, taking her cold hands in mine. “Don’t cry,” I told her gently. “We will be your family now.” I took her shopping for new clothes, bought her warm meals, and even suggested she move into our new apartment so she wouldn’t be lonely. But Wyatt refused. “It’s not appropriate,” he said. At the time, I thought he was looking out for my privacy. Now, I realized he was protecting his own boundaries—or perhaps, testing them. Daisy began to call Wyatt constantly. A headache on Tuesday, a sudden panic attack on Thursday, insomnia on Saturday. No matter what Wyatt was doing, no matter what training exercise he was leading, he would drop everything and run to her. Rumors started circulating through the close-knit base quarters. People whispered that Wyatt treated Daisy with more tenderness than he ever showed his own fiancée. I brushed it off. I trusted Wyatt. I trusted twenty-two years of shared history. Until the evening of our formal engagement dinner. I was wearing a simple, elegant white silk dress, my arm looped through Wyatt’s. He looked incredibly handsome—his dress uniform immaculate, his medals gleaming under the chandelier lights. We went table to table, clinking glasses, bathed in a sea of warm wishes. “To a long and happy life.” “To the perfect couple.” Wyatt smiled, thanking everyone with easy charm. But just as we reached the Colonel’s table, Wyatt’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and his smile vanished. “Excuse me,” he muttered, dropping my hand, and walked out of the banquet hall without another word. I stood there, holding my champagne glass, my smile frozen in place. The chatter in the hall slowly died down. Dozens of eyes turned toward me, thick with pity. Mrs. Dominic walked over, gently pressing her hand over mine. “Fiona, sweetheart, don’t worry about him. Let’s raise a glass.” I forced a smile and swallowed the champagne. It burned all the way down. Wyatt returned twenty minutes later. He pulled me into a quiet alcove, his voice a frantic whisper. “Fiona, I have to go.” “Daisy just slit her wrists at the lodge.” My stomach dropped. “Is she… how bad is it?” “I don’t know. The front desk clerk called. There’s a lot of blood.” There was a panic in his voice I had never heard before—not even when he was preparing for combat. I looked at him, searching his eyes. “Wyatt, tonight is our engagement dinner.” He looked away, unable to meet my gaze. “I know.” “But a life is on the line.” “I’ll explain everything when I get back.” He didn’t wait for my reply. He turned and ran. I watched his back disappear through the heavy oak doors, my fingers trembling so hard the champagne glass nearly slipped from my grasp. I drank the rest of the night’s toasts alone. Wyatt didn’t come home that night. The next morning, my pager woke me. An emergency trauma case had just arrived. I rushed to the hospital, scrubbed in, and operated for eight grueling hours. By the time I stepped out of the surgical suite, the sun had already set. Exhausted, I peeled off my scrubs, ready to head back to an empty apartment. But as I walked down the recovery ward, I saw them through the glass of Room 304. Daisy was sitting up in bed, looking pale and fragile, a thick white bandage wrapped around her left wrist. Wyatt was sitting on the edge of her mattress, holding a bowl of soup, carefully blowing on it before offering her a spoonful. “Just a little more,” he coaxed, his voice incredibly soft. “You haven’t eaten all day.” Daisy shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t, Wyatt.” “I’m so useless. All I do is cause trouble for you.” Wyatt set the bowl down on the bedside table and gently stroked her hair. “Don’t say that. I’m right here.” “Your brother trusted me to keep you safe. I am going to take care of you for the rest of your life.” Daisy’s tears flowed faster. She leaned forward, burying her face against his chest, her shoulders shaking. “Wyatt, you’re too good to me.” Wyatt wrapped his arms around her, gently patting her back. I stood frozen in the hallway, watching the quiet intimacy of the scene. Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket. An automated calendar alert popped up on the screen. Happy Birthday, Fiona. The chime caught Wyatt’s attention. He looked up and saw me standing on the other side of the glass. His entire body stiffened. He stood up quickly, sliding his hands out of his pockets. “Fiona, let me explain.” Daisy peered out from behind him, her voice small and trembling. “Dr. Campbell.” I looked at the two of them, and a sudden, sharp laugh bubbled up in my throat. It felt entirely absurd. Without saying a word, I turned on my heel and walked away. Wyatt chased me down the corridor, catching my wrist near the exit. “Fiona, please. Don’t do this.” “Daisy was just in a dark place—” “Let go of me,” I said, my voice ice-cold. He froze, startled by the utter lack of emotion in my tone. I wrenched my arm free and walked out into the cold night air without looking back. That night, I went back to our new apartment alone. I opened a bottle of red wine, sat on the bare hardwood floor of the living room, and stared at the wall. My phone lit up repeatedly with texts from Wyatt. Fiona, I’m so sorry. Fiona, where are you? Please talk to me. I didn’t answer a single one. I just held the wine bottle, slowly drinking until it was empty. “Happy birthday, Fiona,” I whispered to the quiet room. An icy cold war settled between us. Wyatt came to the hospital every single day. I told the nurses to tell him I was in surgery or consultations. So, he sat in the waiting room, from early morning until late at night, hoping for a glimpse of me. Everyone in my department noticed. One of the residency interns eventually pulled me aside. “Dr. Campbell, did you and Captain Dominic have a fight?” I shook my head. “No.” It wasn’t a fight. It was the slow, agonizing death of an expectation. A week later, Wyatt cornered me in the hospital parking garage. He was leaning against the driver-side door of my car, smelling faintly of cheap whiskey and exhaustion. “Fiona, what do you want from me?” he asked, his voice cracked with fatigue. “We need to talk.” I stared at him, refusing to offer a lifeline. He unlocked my passenger door, gently nudged me inside, and climbed into the driver’s seat. He started the engine and drove in silence, pulling up to the curb outside our apartment building. “Fiona, I know I messed up.” “I shouldn’t have walked out on our engagement dinner.” “I shouldn’t have been with someone else on your birthday.” “But I didn’t have a choice.” “Daisy… she’s barely hanging on.” “She has nobody. Her brother died saving my life.” “If I don’t look after her, she’s going to end up dead. I can’t have Garrett’s blood on my hands.” I listened to him, my gaze fixed on the glove compartment. He turned to face me, desperation rolling off him in waves. “Fiona, you’re the strongest, most generous person I know.” “You’re not like her.” “You’re independent. You have your career. Even without me, you’d survive. You’d thrive.” “But she can’t.” “If I leave her, she won’t make it.” I finally turned my head to look at him. “And so?” “So, you sacrifice me to save her?” He flinched, the words striking him like a physical blow. “That’s not what I mean.” “Then what do you mean, Wyatt?” “Tell me. What exactly am I to you?” He went silent. The air inside the car grew cold and heavy. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “Fiona, you are the only woman I have ever wanted to marry.” “I love you.” He said he loved me. But the words felt like a hollow punchline. After that night, nothing changed. Wyatt continued to cater to Daisy’s every whim, and Daisy continued to accept his devotion as her birthright. The only difference was that they began to hide it from me. Wyatt stopped showing up at the hospital. The daily texts and calls dried up. We lived in the same small military community, yet it felt as though we were separated by an ocean. Sometimes, driving home from a late shift, I’d see his truck parked outside the lodge where Daisy lived. It would stay there until dawn. Sometimes, sitting in the hospital cafeteria, I’d overhear the nurses whispering. Did you hear? Captain Dominic took Daisy to that new movie downtown. He bought her that expensive necklace from the jeweler on Main Street. I heard she practically moved into his place. I never tried to confirm the rumors. I was too afraid of the answers. My heart felt like it was being slowly roasted over a low flame—a quiet, dull ache that never went away. I stopped sleeping. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them together. I lost weight, the stress carving hollows under my cheekbones. Eventually, the Chief of Surgery called me into his office. “Fiona, you look exhausted.” “Is everything alright at home?” I shook my head. “Just tired. It’s been a busy month.” He signed a slip of paper and handed it to me. “Take some time off. Reconnect with yourself.” I took the leave slip and walked out. My chest felt entirely hollow. I didn’t know where to go. Ultimately, my feet carried me back to the apartment. I told myself I needed closure. A final answer. When I unlocked the door, a pair of delicate women’s flats—not mine—were sitting neatly on the entryway rug. Wyatt’s uniform jacket was draped carelessly over the living room sofa. I walked down the hallway, my heart hammering against my ribs. The bedroom door was cracked open. From inside came the soft sound of a woman’s laugh, followed by a man’s low, murmuring reply. My legs felt like lead. I stood outside the door, but I couldn’t find the courage to push it open. Before I could decide, the door swung inward. Daisy stepped out, wearing my favorite silk robe. She froze when she saw me. Then, a slow, gentle smile spread across her face. “Oh, Dr. Campbell. You’re home.” Her hair was damp, smelling of my lavender body wash. I stared at her, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “Where is Wyatt?” She pointed over her shoulder. “He’s in the shower. He had a really long day.” I looked past her. Through the gap in the door, I could see our bed. The sheets were tangled and messy. Two half-empty wine glasses sat on the nightstand. A sudden, roaring rush of adrenaline hit me. I turned and ran. I ran down the stairs, out of the building, and into the cool night, running until my lungs burned and I couldn’t breathe. I just wanted to escape the reality of that hallway. I checked into a hotel downtown and stayed there for a week. Wyatt never called. Not a single text message. It was as if I had simply ceased to exist in his world. A week later, my phone finally rang. It was Cooper. His voice was strained as he delivered the news: Wyatt’s expedited marriage paperwork with Daisy had been officially approved by the base commander. I listened to him, but I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just thanked him, hung up, and stared out the window. The sky was a brilliant, mocking blue. The clouds drifted lazily by. The world kept turning, completely indifferent to the fact that my life had just collapsed. I called the Chief of Surgery. “I want to volunteer for the transfer to Mist Island,” I said. There was a long, heavy silence on the line. Mist Island was a remote outpost off the rugged northern coast of Maine. Cold, perpetually shrouded in thick fog, and barren. The medical facilities there were primitive, barely a step above a field clinic. For a rising surgeon like me, going there was career suicide. “Fiona, are you sure about this?” the Chief asked gently. “I’m sure,” I replied. “I won’t regret it.” He sighed over the line. “I’ll keep your position open here. If you ever want to come back, just say the word.” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Thank you. But I don’t think I’ll be coming back.” I packed my things the next afternoon. It didn’t take long. A few suitcases of clothes, some medical journals, and the vintage stethoscope Wyatt had gifted me when I passed my board exams. I left the stethoscope sitting on the kitchen counter. I didn’t need any more ghosts. The transfer orders came through swiftly. I rolled my suitcase out of the hotel lobby, telling no one. I wanted to vanish, to slip away like I had never been there at all. On my way to the airport, my phone buzzed. It was Mrs. Dominic. “Fiona, sweetheart, where are you?” she asked, her voice tight with panic. “Are you leaving?” I remained silent. “Fiona, please don’t do this. Wyatt is an idiot, he’s completely lost his mind, but he’ll wake up. Just give him time to realize what he’s throwing away. I’m begging you.” I could hear the tears in her voice. A single, hot tear finally escaped my eye and ran down my cheek. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dominic,” I whispered. “I’ve run out of time to wait.” I hung up and switched off the phone. The taxi pulled up to the terminal. I grabbed my bags and walked into the crowded airport. Over the loudspeaker, a calm voice announced the boarding call for the flight to Portland, Maine, with the ferry connection to Mist Island. I looked down at my boarding pass. Mist Island. A cold, lonely name for a cold, lonely place. But maybe that was exactly what I needed. Before handing over my ticket, I took one last look back at the city I had called home for over two decades. Goodbye, Wyatt. Goodbye, girl I used to be. The plane climbed through the clouds, and I watched the city shrink into a tiny grid of lights until it was swallowed by the gray mist. I let the tears fall silently against the windowpane. Wyatt, you have no idea how much I loved you. I would have given up everything for you. But now, I am entirely out of love. From this moment on, we owe each other nothing.

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Maisie was twenty-one, but she navigated the world with the performative, weaponized helplessness of a toddler. She referred to herself exclusively as “Baby.” She spoke in a high, breathy coo, stomping her designer-clad feet when she didn’t get her way, and somehow, almost everyone in our university cohort treated it like a sacred duty to keep her happy. It was Thanksgiving weekend—specifically, Black Friday, the chaotic peak of the holiday shopping season—when Maisie stood up in our lecture hall, tilted her chin up, and clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “To thank everyone for taking such good care of Baby,” she announced, beaming at the room, “Baby has decided to take the whole class on a designer shopping spree today. My treat. Everything is on Baby.” The room went dead silent for a fraction of a second before erupting into absolute chaos. Students who had been packing up their bags froze, their faces lighting up with a mixture of shock and sheer ecstasy. “Maisie, are you serious?” one of the girls gasped, leaning over her desk. “A single piece in those boutiques costs more than three months of our parents’ rent. You’re really paying for all of us?” Maisie let out a soft, giggling hum and patted her chest. “Baby never lies. You guys are always so sweet to Baby, so Baby wants to be sweet to you. Baby always rewards her friends.” My boyfriend, Tyler, ran a hand through her curled hair, his eyes dripping with a soft, patronizing affection that used to make my stomach turn. “Maisie is so sweet. Such a good baby.” Maisie gave him a shy, dimpled smile, and within seconds, a dozen classmates swarmed her desk, burying her in a chorus of high-pitched compliments. “Maisie, I had no idea you were secretly loaded! Are you an heiress or something?” “You are literally the prettiest, kindest girl in this entire department. We are so lucky to have our own little princess.” … I stood at the back of the classroom, watching the display. A cold, heavy weight settled in my chest as I looked down at my phone. The digital clock read Black Friday, 8:30 AM. I was back. I had actually come back. Just then, Tyler reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Rachel, Maisie just offered to buy the whole class designer clothes, and you’re just standing there? Aren’t you going to say thank you?” In my past life, the moment Maisie made that announcement, my alarm bells had gone off. I knew her family was middle-class at best; there was no secret trust fund, no inheritance. Fearing she was about to ruin herself financially, I had lied to the class, telling them the administration was doing a surprise roll call, which bought me enough time to pull Maisie into an empty hallway. When I pressed her on how she was going to pay, she had proudly pulled out her phone and showed me her chat history with a popular AI chatbot app called Buddy. “I asked Buddy to give me an unlimited free-pass code,” she had whispered. “And he did! He said it’s an exclusive VIP pass for his favorite baby.” I had tried, desperately, to explain reality to her. “Maisie, Buddy is a language model. It’s a machine. It hallucinates. It doesn’t have thirty million dollars to write off your shopping cart.” I had then apologized to the class on her behalf and canceled the trip. But instead of gratitude, Maisie saw it as a calculated, malicious attack. She dropped out the next day, weeping that I had ruined her reputation and her life. That night, Tyler and the rest of our class cornered me on the building’s rooftop. They dragged me out into the biting, freezing air of a late-November cold snap and locked the heavy metal fire door behind them. “You’re just a jealous, bitter bitch, Rachel,” Tyler had spat through the thick glass window. “You ruined our only shot at a luxury life because you couldn’t stand to see Maisie shine.” I spent twelve grueling hours on that freezing concrete. By the time the sun rose, my shivering body had given out, and I froze to death begging for warmth. Remembering the suffocating panic of that night, my hands began to tremble. I forced my fingers into tight fists, taking slow, deliberate breaths until the phantom frost in my chest faded. I looked at Tyler’s arrogant face, then at Maisie’s pouting lip. This time, I wasn’t going to save them. I forced a smooth, pleasant smile onto my face. “Maisie is incredibly generous. We should absolutely go and support her. Everyone should have a great time shopping today.” Maisie cleared her throat, her eyes darting over to me with a sudden, sharp look. “Rachel-sister, Baby’s throat is so dry from talking so much. Baby wants a hot white chocolate mocha with the little marshmallow bear on top. Can you go grab one for Baby?” Outside, a bitter winter wind was howling. The nearest artisanal cafe was a twenty-minute walk each way. “I have things to do,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Get it yourself.” Maisie’s face instantly fell. She stomped her foot, her lower lip trembling as she squeezed her eyes shut. “But it’s so cold outside! Baby will get frostbite! Are you doing this on purpose to make Baby sick?” Tyler glared at me, his voice sharp with disgust. “Rachel, what could you possibly have to do that’s more important than Maisie’s drink? Go get the mocha. And buy a box of those imported French macarons to make up for your attitude.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Tyler, if you want to play daddy to a twenty-one-year-old toddler, go right ahead. But I’m not her mother, and I’m not her maid.” Maisie burst into loud, dramatic wails. “How can you be so mean to Baby? Baby only got thirsty because she was trying to do something nice for everyone! You’re hurting Baby’s fragile soul, and now Baby is too sad to go shopping!” At her words, the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The classmates, terrified of losing their free designer gifts, turned on me like a pack of wolves. “Rachel, what the hell is wrong with you today?” one of the girls snapped. “Usually you’re the first one to help her. It’s just a cup of coffee, and you’re acting like a psycho.” “Exactly,” a guy named Kyle chimed in. “You’re doing this on purpose because you want to ruin the trip for the rest of us. You’re just jealous of her.” Tyler wrapped an arm around Maisie, whispering sweet nothings into her ear while glaring at me. “I always knew you were small-minded, Rachel, but this is pathetic. You’re just mad that everyone loves her more than you.” I stood there, completely numb to his words. It was mind-boggling how, without doing a single harmful thing, I had still been cast as the villain. “Apologize to her right now, Rachel,” Tyler commanded, raising his chin. “And make her feel better, or we’re going to have a serious problem.” I rolled my eyes. “No. I refused to run an errand. If you want to cater to her delusions, that’s your business. Leave me out of it.” The moment the words left my mouth, Kyle took his open water bottle and splashed the ice-cold contents directly into my face. The freezing water ran down my nose and dripped onto my collar. “Maisie is our princess,” Kyle sneered, tossing the empty plastic bottle onto my desk. “Who do you think you are, talking to her like that?” Maisie stopped crying immediately, clapping her hands and giggling. “Good job, Kyle! People who hurt Baby deserve to be punished! As Baby’s brave knight, I’m going to buy you a designer leather belt today at the mall!” Kyle’s eyes lit up with naked greed. “Thanks, Maisie! Don’t worry, as long as I’m here, nobody is going to treat you bad.” Seeing the instant reward, the rest of the classmates eagerly joined in, desperate to win Maisie’s favor. Someone grabbed my hair from behind, dragging me backward until I tripped and fell hard onto the linoleum floor. My desk was kicked over, sending my books and laptop clattering across the room, where several people intentionally trampled them. “This is your last warning, Rachel,” someone yelled over the noise. “If you make Maisie cry again, we’re going to make your life a living hell.” Maisie squealed with delight, clapping like a child at a puppet show. “You guys are the best! Because you protected Baby, everyone gets to pick out an extra accessory today!” She then looked down at me, her eyes glittering with cruel satisfaction. “Do you know you’re wrong now, Rachel? Are you going to be nice to Baby?” “Apologize!” the crowd chanted. I slowly got up from the floor, pulled my phone from my pocket, and dialed 911. The room went instantly quiet. Kyle lunged forward to grab my phone, but I stepped back, my voice turning ice-cold. “Touch me, and I’ll make sure the police add grand larceny and destruction of property to the assault charges.” He froze, his face draining of color. “Rachel, come on. It was just a joke between classmates. There’s no need to call the cops. Don’t be dramatic.” “A joke?” I wiped the water from my eyes, looking at the security camera in the corner of the ceiling. “You dragged me to the ground and vandalized my property on camera. That’s a class-A misdemeanor, and depending on my laptop’s damage, a felony. You want to see if the dean thinks it’s a joke?” Maisie’s face twisted in anger. She balled her hands into tiny fists and charged at me. “You’re so mean! You’re trying to take away Baby’s knights! In the name of the moon, Baby will punish you!” Before she could reach me, I swung my hand and slapped her hard across the face. The sound of the slap cracked through the quiet room. Maisie stumbled back, clutching her cheek. “Have you not been weaned yet?” I said, my voice carrying a quiet, dangerous weight. “Stop calling yourself ‘Baby.’ You’re in college. If you want to be a toddler, go crawl back into your mother’s womb.” Maisie stared at me in absolute shock before throwing her head back and wailing at the top of her lungs. “She hit Baby! Tyler, she hit Baby!” Tyler rushed to her side, his eyes burning with fury. “Rachel! How dare you lay a hand on her! Get on your knees and apologize to her right now!” “She ran at me with her fists up,” I replied, adjusting my collar. “I defended myself. If you want a girlfriend who sits there and takes a beating, find someone else.” Tyler took a step toward me, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. “Maisie is like a sister to me. As my girlfriend, you’re supposed to treat her like family. You’ve crossed the line. Apologize to her right now, or we are done.” In my past life, I would have begged for his forgiveness. I would have swallowed my pride to keep him. But now, looking at him, I only felt a profound, exhausting disgust. I smiled. “Great. Let’s break up.” Tyler blinked, completely thrown off script. “What?” “I said, we’re done,” I repeated clearly. “Don’t ever speak to me again.” “Rachel, don’t play games with me,” he hissed, trying to regain control. “You’ll be crawling back to me by tonight, crying and begging.” I didn’t waste another breath on him. I turned to the classmates who had kicked my desk. “You have exactly two options. You can pick up my desk, clean up my books, and apologize to me right now. Or I can let the police officer who is currently on the line handle it.” They looked at one another, then at the camera on the ceiling. One by one, with sullen, resentful expressions, they set my desk upright, gathered my papers, and mumbled their apologies. Maisie, still sniffling, clutched Tyler’s arm. “Don’t worry, everyone. Baby knows you had to do that because she’s evil. Baby will still reward you at the mall tomorrow.” “You’re so much better than her, Rachel,” someone muttered. “Don’t let her ruin our day.” I packed my laptop into my bag, ignoring their whispers, and walked out of the classroom without looking back. That evening, my mother called. “Rachel, sweetheart, your cousin’s graduation party is this weekend. Can you stop by the boutique tomorrow and pick up a nice piece of jewelry for her? There are some great Black Friday deals.” “Of course, Mom,” I said. “I’ll head over tomorrow afternoon.” The next day, I walked into the high-end shopping district downtown. The streets were packed with manic Black Friday shoppers. I had just stepped into Maison Valois, a quiet, exclusive designer boutique, when a loud, grating voice shattered the silence. “Well, look who it is. Rachel. I guess some people really have no shame.” I turned to see Tyler, Maisie, and half of our class standing near the display cases. Maisie puffed out her cheeks, pointing a manicured finger at me. “You were mean to Baby yesterday. Baby doesn’t want you here. Get out!” Tyler smirked, looking down his nose at me. “I knew you’d show up, Rachel. You wanted to follow us so you could get a piece of Maisie’s shopping spree, didn’t you? Well, if you apologize to her and make her happy, maybe we’ll let you pick out a keychain.” I ignored them entirely, turning to the sales associate behind the counter. “Could you please show me the delicate gold pendant necklace from the holiday collection?” Before the associate could move, Tyler grabbed my upper arm, his grip unnecessarily tight. “Are you deaf? I told you to apologize to Maisie.” Maisie tilted her head, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Baby is very forgiving, Rachel. If you get down on your knees and say sorry to Baby, Baby will let you stay.” “Yeah, Rachel,” Kyle added, sneering. “Maisie is being incredibly nice. Don’t be ungrateful. Without her, you couldn’t even afford to breathe the air in this store.” I pulled my arm out of Tyler’s grip, my eyes cold. “Keep her ‘kindness.’ I don’t want it.” The sales associate returned with the beautifully packaged jewelry box, handing it to me. But before I could take it, Maisie lunged forward and snatched it out of the associate’s hands. “You can’t buy anything until you say sorry to Baby!” she squeaked. “Maisie,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “What I buy has nothing to do with you. If you’re having a mental episode, go to a clinic. Don’t throw tantrums in a public business.” Maisie’s face turned bright red. “You’re calling Baby crazy! Baby hates you! Baby is going to punish you!” With a scream, she threw the heavy, metal-trimmed jewelry box directly at my head. It struck my shoulder, the sharp edge cutting through my blouse. The sales associate gasped. “Miss! The items in this boutique are extremely valuable. Any damage to the merchandise must be paid for!” Maisie threw her hands in the air, spinning around to face the class. “Baby is buying out the entire store today anyway! Whoever teaches Rachel a lesson can pick out whatever they want, fully paid for by Baby!” At her words, the Black Friday frenzy turned into absolute madness. All rationality vanished from my classmates’ eyes. They scrambled toward the open display counters, grabbing heavy leather handbags, brass-studded belts, and metal-topped perfume bottles, pelting them directly at my face and chest. “You think you’re better than us, Rachel?” someone shouted as a heavy clutch struck my cheek. Kyle grabbed me by the shoulder, shoving me down onto the marble floor. He snatched a large tester bottle of a high-end, high-concentration perfume and sprayed it directly into my face. The chemical mist hit my eyes, and a blinding, agonizing burn tore through my vision. I screamed, covering my face as my eyes watered uncontrollably. “That’s a five-hundred-dollar bottle of perfume, Rachel,” Kyle laughed, his voice echoing over my gasps of pain. “You should thank us. You’ve probably never smelled anything this expensive in your life.” Maisie clapped her hands, her high-pitched laughter ringing through the boutique. “Good! That’s what you get for being mean to Baby! Serves you right!” The store manager rushed over, trying to separate them, but Tyler shoved him back. “Stay out of this! Didn’t you hear her? She’s buying the whole store. We’re paying customers. No wonder you’re just a retail manager.” The manager’s face went pale, then darkened with a cold fury. He pulled up a tablet, his fingers tapping rapidly. “We do not allow store buyouts without prior contract and deposit. Furthermore, the merchandise you have damaged and soiled totals thirty-eight million dollars. Settle this bill immediately, or I am calling the police.” The classmates suddenly stopped laughing. They looked at Maisie, their faces filled with sudden anxiety. “Maisie, go ahead and pay them,” Kyle said, his voice shaking slightly. “Let’s pay so we can keep teaching Rachel a lesson.” The manager stepped up to Maisie, holding out a wireless payment terminal. “How will you be paying today, miss?” Maisie proudly whipped out her phone and opened her chat with the AI app, Buddy, thrusting the screen in the manager’s face. “My friend Buddy gave me an unlimited VIP free-pass code,” she said, her voice dripping with self-importance. “Just scan this, and it will write off the bill.” The manager stared at the screen, his face a mask of utter disbelief. “Are you… are you serious?”

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The day we moved into our first home, Elliot asked me to set the keypad lock code. I typed in our wedding anniversary: 0521. He glanced at the screen, reached out, and casually changed it to a different sequence. “This is easier to remember,” he said. I didn’t think much of it at the time. But later, I noticed. 0912 was everywhere. The front door, the digital safe, his phone passcode, his Apple Pay—all of them were 0912. It wasn’t until I went to connect to the Wi-Fi and saw the network password, “celine0912”, that the pieces finally clicked. Celine. His ex-girlfriend. 0912 was her birthday, September twelfth. The birthday of a woman he had broken up with five years ago was woven into the security of our home, guarding every threshold of our life together. And mine? This year, I told him three days in advance that Saturday was my birthday. He said he’d remember. I spent Saturday afternoon cooking a full dinner, waiting at the dining table from six o’clock until eleven. When he finally pushed the door open, he reeked of alcohol. “Just had a quick dinner with some colleagues,” he muttered. But then his phone, tossed carelessly onto the table, lit up with a text from his ex-girlfriend’s mother: “Thank you for coming to Celine’s birthday party tonight, Elliot. She was so happy to see you.” I stared at the cold, honey-glazed short ribs on the table, and then at that glowing screen. It was time to change the code that guarded every lock in my life. … When the trash can lid slammed shut, the entire dinner became a blurred mess. The dark, sticky sauce of the short ribs bled into the lemon-butter cod, ruining any trace of what they had been. I tied the trash bag tight and dragged it to the front door. In the master bedroom, the shower was running. When Elliot walked in, he’d offered only a curt, “I already ate, don’t wait up,” before heading straight upstairs. He hadn’t even glanced at the dining table. My phone buzzed in my hand. A voice message from Mary. “Flora! Happy birthday, babe! What did Elliot get you? Spill!” I stared at the 59-second audio file for a long time. I typed back: “It was nice. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” Then I flipped the phone face down on the kitchen counter. The shower stopped. The soft hum of a hair dryer drifted from the bedroom. I picked up my phone and re-read the text. “Thank you for coming to Celine’s birthday party tonight, Elliot. She was so happy to see you. —Mrs. Davis.” I switched off the living room lights and walked upstairs. Elliot was leaning against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. His hair was damp, the duvet only half-covering him. My instinct was to grab a dry towel for him. My hand even hovered near the edge of the bed before I stopped myself. I sat down beside him. “Elliot.” “Yeah?” “Today was my birthday.” His fingers paused on the screen. “I know. Didn’t I say we’d make it up to you?” He hadn’t. I remembered every word. “You didn’t say that.” “Well, I’m saying it now. I’ll take you somewhere nice this weekend.” “You went to Celine’s birthday party today.” He locked his screen, turned his head to look at me, his brow furrowing. “Her mom called me three times. I’ve known their family for over a decade, Flora. I couldn’t just blow them off.” “You could have come home to eat with me first.” “By the time I got back, what time would it have been? You’d have been asleep anyway.” “I wasn’t asleep. I had four dishes sitting on the table from six to eleven. I was waiting for you.” He didn’t answer that. After a few seconds, he sighed. “Alright, I get it. Next weekend. I’ll make it up to you.” I looked at his phone screen, which had lit up again. “All of your passwords are 0912.” “I told you, I just set them randomly. It’s easy to remember.” “My birthday is also September twelfth.” His fingers froze over the screen. The hands of the grandfather clock in the hallway ticked through the silence. “Well, isn’t that perfect then?” he said, trying to soften his voice. “It’s the same day. It’s not like I don’t know when your birthday is.” “You know, but you chose to spend it with her. You didn’t come home to spend it with me.” Elliot tossed his phone onto the nightstand with a sharp clack. “Flora, what do you want from me? Are we really going to fight over a birthday? I said I’d make it up to you. What more do you want?” I looked at him. His frown was deep, etched with an impatience that felt like it had been building for a long time. I didn’t say another word. I turned off the lamp, lay down, and turned my back to him. He rolled over. Within two minutes, his breathing was slow and even. I stared into the dark, perfectly still, counting to a hundred and twenty. Then I slid my phone out, dimmed the brightness to the absolute minimum, and opened Safari. I typed in three words: “apartments for rent”. After twenty minutes of scrolling, I bookmarked three listings. Then I scrolled through my contacts until I found a number I’d saved last month. “Charles Alden, Divorce Attorney.” It was too late to call now. I’d do it tomorrow. I locked the phone and closed my eyes. Every lock in this house was still secured by the exact same numbers. “It’s the same day,” he had said. “It’s not like I don’t know.” But of the two women who shared that birthday, he only remembered to celebrate one. The next morning when I went downstairs, he was already putting on his shoes. “I’m in a rush,” he said, pulling open the door. The keypad lit up briefly. “Wait,” I called out. “You said you’d make it up to me. When?” “Next Saturday. I’ll book a restaurant.” “Don’t book French food. I don’t eat it.” He glanced back at me. “Fine.” The door clicked shut, and the lock’s screen glowed for two more seconds. I dialed Charles Alden’s office. We scheduled a consultation for tomorrow afternoon at three. He told me to bring the deed to the house, our marriage certificate, and bank statements. I texted Mary: “Are you free the day after tomorrow? I need to see you.” She replied instantly with a barrage of questions. I typed back three words: “In person, please.” I sat at the kitchen island and poured myself a glass of water. On the bottom of the glass was a faded, barely visible letter: “C”. I stared at it for a moment. Then I set it back in the cupboard and left for work. Mr. Alden flipped through my documents, jotting down notes on his legal pad. “Flora, I’ll be straight with you. From a financial standpoint, this marriage offers you very limited protection. Are you absolutely certain you want to proceed with a divorce?” “I am.” “If we go to court, we’ll need evidence of an irretrievable breakdown. Can you share the primary reason?” I paused for a few seconds. “Every password in our home is his ex-girlfriend’s birthday. The front door, the Wi-Fi, the safe, his phone passcode, his payment accounts. All of them are 0912. The Wi-Fi network is literally named “celine0912″.” Mr. Alden looked up from his pad. “How long has this been going on?” “Three years. Since the day we moved in.” “Have you brought this up with him?” “Twice. He told me he set them casually because they were easy to remember, and that I was being overly sensitive.” Mr. Alden drew a thick line across his pad. “Understood. I should have a draft of the separation agreement ready for you in three to five business days.” “Thank you.” I left the law office at four in the afternoon. Walking past a bakery, I spotted a tiny single-serving cake in the display case, complete with a thin, unlit candle. I stared at it for a few seconds, but I didn’t buy it. When I got home, Elliot wasn’t back from work yet. I slipped off my shoes and stood in the middle of the living room, really looking at the space for the first time. The sofa was a deep, cold charcoal grey. I preferred warm tones. The curtains were a stark, sterile white. I preferred textured linen. On the bookshelf was a row of untouched French novels in their original bindings. I didn’t read French. The house had been fully furnished before I moved in. Elliot had told me there was no point in redoing it. I knelt by the bed, pulled out the digital safe, and punched in “0912”. The lock clicked open. Inside lay our marriage certificate, the property deed, and a few insurance policies. At the very bottom, tucked away, was a small black velvet jewelry box. I pulled it out and opened it. A silver band. Engraved on the inner loop in elegant cursive were the words: “Celine 0912”. Elliot rarely wore his wedding ring; he usually kept it on the nightstand. But this ring was kept in the safe, locked away at the very bottom. I closed the box, slipped it back into its corner, closed the safe, and pushed it back under the bed. Then I opened his side of the closet. In the far corner sat a heavy canvas tote bag. I unzipped it. Inside was a stack of postcards and a bundle of letters. The top postcard was written in delicate, flowing handwriting: “Elliot, Paris is breathtaking. Next time, let’s come here together.” It was signed with a single letter: “C”. I flipped through them one by one. Paris, London, Iceland. Each bore the same signature: “C”. The postmark on the last one was from four years ago. They had broken up five years ago. He hadn’t thrown a single one away. I put them back in order, zipped the bag, and pushed it back into the dark corner of the closet. My phone buzzed with another frantic voice note from Mary. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I won’t sleep tonight.” I texted her back: “The safe passcode is 0912. Inside, there’s a ring engraved with his ex’s name and birthday.” Mary’s reply was a single-word text: “Jesus.” I met Mary the next day at a quiet diner near my office. The moment she sat down, she grabbed my hands. “Don’t say a word yet. Just eat.” She ordered me a bowl of hot chicken ramen. I pushed the bowl slightly to the side and laid out everything—the code, the ring, the postcards, and the night of my birthday. She listened in complete silence. “He didn’t change a single thing when you got married?” she asked quietly. “He said it was easier this way.” “The sofa, the curtains… did you actually like them?” “No.” Mary leaned back in her booth. “This place… he decorated it when he was still with Celine, didn’t he?” “The renovations were finished the year they broke up.” “So her birthday is the code. Her taste is the decor. Her ring is in the safe, and her letters are in the closet. Flora, you didn’t marry Elliot. You moved into a hollow shell she left behind.” My fingers tightened around the crumpled napkin on the table. “I know.” “You knew?” “I didn’t just find out today.” Mary looked at me, her expression a mix of sorrow and confusion. “Then why did it take you this long to walk away?” “I kept telling myself that things would get better with time. But it’s been one thousand and ninety-six days, Mary. And he hasn’t changed a single password.” Mary’s eyes welled with tears. “What did the lawyer say?” “He’ll have the draft ready in three to five days.” “And the house?” “He bought it before we got married. It’s his.” “So you walk away with nothing.” “I don’t want any of it anyway.” Mary pressed her lips together tightly. “You’re moving in with me.” “Not yet. There’s one last thing I want to do.” “What?” “He said he’d make up my birthday to me this weekend. I want to see where he takes me.” On Saturday afternoon at five, Elliot sent me a pinned location. It was a trendy Japanese izakaya downtown. When I arrived, he was already flipping through the menu. “Order whatever you want. It’s on me.” I ordered two simple dishes. Elliot added a carafe of sake and a platter of salmon sashimi. When the food arrived, I picked up my chopsticks. “Have you been here before?” “A few times,” he said, pouring the sake. “The food is great.” “Who did you come with?” His hand froze mid-pour. “Just some work dinners.” I pulled out my phone, opened Yelp, and searched for the restaurant. The very first featured review had six photos attached. The last photo was a selfie of Celine. The review ended with: “We come here every year for our anniversary. The staff always recognizes us. Thank you, Elliot, for taking me.” The timestamp was four years ago. The username: “LunaOnTheMoon”. I turned the screen and slid the phone across the table toward him. Elliot’s face paled. “You went looking for this?” “It’s the first review on Yelp, Elliot. I didn’t have to look.” “That was a long time ago, Flora.” “So to make up my birthday to me, you brought me to the place you always took her. And you ordered the exact same dishes.” He set his chopsticks down, his voice dropping an octave. “Flora, aren’t you tired of this? I brought you here because the food is good. What does it matter who I came here with before?” “Then tell me one dish that I actually like.” He stared at me. “What?” “Just name one thing. What is my favorite food?” The surrounding tables were filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and chatter, making the silence at our table suffocating. Elliot opened his mouth, then closed it. “You’re not a picky eater.” “Okay, let’s try an easier one. What is one thing I “don’t” eat?” He didn’t answer. “I don’t eat raw fish, Elliot. I never eat sashimi. I told you that the first month we moved in together. You just ordered salmon sashimi.” “You never made a big deal out of it.” “I told you. You just didn’t listen. Your memory was already too full of 0912.” His jaw clenched. “What are you trying to do here, Flora?” I laid my chopsticks down, picked up my purse, and stood up. “I’m leaving.” “Flora.” I didn’t look back. “Do you have to make a scene out of everything?” he called after me. I pushed through the door and walked out. A light drizzle was falling. I stood under the awning of a neighboring shop, waiting for an Uber. My phone buzzed. A text from Elliot: “You’re overreacting. It was just a dinner. Was that really worth storming out?” I silenced my notifications and got into the car. The rain streaked down the window, leaving long, distorted tracks. I texted Mary: “It’s done. Please get the guest room ready for me.” On Sunday morning, Elliot left to play basketball. I pulled a suitcase out of the closet and started packing. My clothes, my skincare, a few books—it barely filled half the suitcase. My jewelry box held only a pair of studs and a simple necklace, both of which I had bought for myself. I looked around the master bedroom. That was it. That was everything I owned in this house. One thousand and ninety-six days, reduced to half a suitcase. I rolled the bag to the front door, put on my coat, and took one last look. Our framed wedding photo still sat on the entryway table. I left it there. I reached for the keypad on the door and found the settings menu. “Current code: 0912.” “New code.” I stared at the blinking prompt for a second. Then I punched in four digits. The code I had set on our very first day here. Our wedding anniversary. The one he had deleted right in front of me. I changed it back. “Confirm.” The lock let out a soft chime, and the screen went dark. I walked out, pulling my suitcase behind me, and the door clicked shut. I took a cab to Mary’s place and rolled my suitcase into her spare room. Mary helped me make the bed, stopping halfway through. “Are you holding up okay?” “I’m fine.” “Do you need to cry? It’s okay to cry.” “No, I don’t.” She slipped the pillowcase on and patted it smooth. “Are you hungry? I made some chicken soup.” “Yes, please.” I was sitting at her kitchen counter sipping the warm broth when my phone started vibrating. Elliot called three times in a row. I let them go to voicemail. Then the texts started. “Where are you?” “Why isn’t the door code working?” “Flora, answer your phone.” When he called a fourth time, I picked up. “What the hell is going on?” His voice was loud, vibrating with a frustration that suggested he’d been standing on the porch for a while. “I changed the code,” I said quietly. “To what?” “I’m not telling you.” “This is my house, Flora. You changed my lock and you’re not telling me the code?” “You’re right. It is your house.” There was a long pause on the other end. “Where are you?” “I moved out.” “Stop being dramatic, alright? Just come back and change the code.” “I’m not coming back, Elliot.” “You’re throwing our marriage away over a dinner?” I held the warm bowl in my hands, watching the steam rise. “It was never about the dinner.” “Then what is it?” “Because that house was never my home.” “You lived here for three years! How was it not your home?” “The door code was her birthday. The safe held her ring. The closet held her letters. The restaurants we went to were the ones you shared with her. I lived there for three years, Elliot, but I never actually moved in.” He went silent. “Call a locksmith,” I said. “I’m not giving you the code.” I hung up. Mary sat across from me, watching me quietly. After a moment, she said, “Eat your soup before it gets cold.” “Okay.” I finished the soup. My phone buzzed again a few times. I turned it on silent and placed it face down on the table. About half an hour later, the screen lit up with a text from Elliot. “Locksmith just left. I’m in.” “And I changed the code back.” I stared at the screen, took a screenshot of the message, and saved it to a folder labeled “Evidence”. “He changed it?” Mary asked, noticing my expression. “Probably back to 0912,” I said with a faint smile. Mary sighed. “He can change the numbers back all he wants, Flora. But he can’t get you back.” Outside, the sky was turning a deep twilight blue. Mary’s living room was bathed in a warm, amber glow. Sitting on her sofa, I realized something. In the three years I had lived in Elliot’s house, I had never once noticed the color of the light.

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My mom’s favorite phrase was, “You’ll make us look bad.” On Christmas Eve, I hired a professional cleaning service for a deep clean. But Mom insisted we clean the entire apartment ourselves before they arrived. She said she didn’t want the cleaners to think we lived like pigs. I had no choice but to help her. I ended up with a raging fever from exhaustion. Yet, she forced me to take a shower before going to the ER. She said smelling like sweat would make people at the hospital judge us. By the time I finally reached the hospital, I was practically slipping into shock. On Christmas Day, a relative came over and gifted me a scarf. Terrified of looking cheap, Mom immediately dug out my most expensive cashmere wrap—the one my grandmother left me—and shoved it into the relative’s hands as a return gift. At lunch, she frowned at the dining table, complaining there weren’t enough dishes. She said it made us look poor. Then, completely ignoring the severe blizzard warning flashing on TV, she ordered me—just discharged from the hospital—to go back out and buy more groceries. In the brief second when the howling wind swept me off my feet, only one thought crossed my mind: *Mom, this time, you’ll never have to worry about me making you look bad again.* *** **1.** For the Christmas holidays, I brought my mom, Helen, from her small hometown to stay with me at my apartment. The day before Christmas, Helen suddenly announced we needed to do a massive deep clean because relatives were coming over tomorrow. I told her I’d already hired a cleaner, and they’d be here in the afternoon. Helen’s face instantly fell. “Even if you hired someone, we have to wipe everything down ourselves first! If they walk in and see how dirty the place is, they’ll talk behind our backs. Do you want to embarrass us?” “Mom, they’re literally paid to clean,” I sighed. “Why does it matter if the place is dirty?” “Of course it matters! They might not say it to your face, but they’ll judge you. I have a reputation to keep. I won’t lose face.” “The service is already paid for. It’s non-refundable.” “Fine, but that doesn’t mean we get to be lazy.” I didn’t argue. She ignored me, grabbed a rag, and started scrubbing the windowsill with frantic, clumsy strokes, leaving streaks of dirty water everywhere. Looking at her hunched back, I let out a quiet sigh. At her pace, she’d be at it forever. I walked over and took the rag from her. “I’ll do it, Mom.” She straightened up, wiping her brow. “Make sure you do a good job. No cutting corners.” Then, she headed into the kitchen to prep lunch. I spent the next few hours scrubbing the living room, the kitchen, and the hallway all by myself. By the time the cleaner finally arrived, I had already finished most of the work. The cleaner stood at the door, looking at the sparkling clean apartment, visibly confused. “Um, you’ve already done everything. So, what do you need me for?” Helen piped up from the kitchen, “Oh, just wipe it all down again. Can’t hurt to have it extra clean.” I slumped onto the couch, every muscle in my body aching. My head was throbbing violently. The words “embarrassing” and “what will people think” kept spinning in my mind. I wasn’t angry; I was just suffocating under the weight of her obsession with “keeping up appearances.” She genuinely believed that as long as she acted perfect, nobody would ever judge her. But she didn’t realize that every single time she wanted to look perfect, I was the one paying the price. Just like today. She wanted to look clean, so I had to scrub the entire apartment. Even after the cleaner left, Helen kept pacing around, checking for any missed spots. I didn’t dare lie down. I just sat there, waiting for her inspection to end, terrified that if she found a speck of dust, she’d start cleaning again—and I’d end up having to do it anyway. *** **2.** Helen finally finished her inspection. Satisfied, she walked over to the couch. Seeing me slumped there looking completely drained, she frowned. She reached out to touch my forehead and gasped. “You’re burning up!” I nodded weakly. Every time I moved my head, my temples throbbed like they were about to explode. “Mom, please take me to the hospital. I need an IV.” But she just stood there, her brow furrowed. “Go take a shower first.” I froze, thinking I had misheard her. “Mom… I have a fever.” “You still have to wash up. You smell like sweat. If you go to the ER looking like a mess, you’ll embarrass both of us.” I opened my mouth, but my throat felt completely blocked. She was already in the bathroom, turning on the hot water. “Chloe, you know how hard it has been for me,” she called out, her voice cracking. “When I was young, we were poor. My parents always treated me like I was an embarrassment. Then, I finally built a life with your dad, but he passed away so early.” She walked back out, her eyes red. “I raised you all by myself. People have been whispering behind my back for years, just waiting to see me fail. Waiting to see us look trashy.” “I just wanted to hold my head high. I didn’t want anyone to look down on us.” *Trashy. Embarrassing.* The words hit me like a physical blow. Oblivious to my distress, she continued, “So we have to be perfect in everything we do. We can’t give them a reason to judge us.” “Everything I do, I do for us.” Those familiar words triggered my anxiety. My hands began to shake. I clenched my fists tight, hiding them so she wouldn’t see, but the tears leaked out anyway. Helen blinked, startled. She reached out to wipe my tears, but I flinched and spoke in a raspy whisper: “You just think I’m an embarrassment to you, don’t you?” Her hand froze in mid-air. Slowly, she pulled her hand back, her expression turning into one of deep offense. “What are you talking about? When have I ever looked down on you?” “I just want us to live with some dignity. Is that a crime?” Her eyes welled with tears of self-pity. I stared at her, realizing there was no point in arguing. I told myself to just endure it. The holidays would be over in a couple of days, and she’d go back to her hometown. She rarely visited; I should just go along with it. I sighed, dragged myself into the bathroom, and took a quick hot shower. By the time we Ubered to the hospital, my fever had spiked to 106°F. The doctor told me if we had arrived any later, my body would have gone into septic shock. *** **3.** I hooked up to an IV all night, and by Christmas morning, the fever finally broke. When I got back to the apartment, the relatives had already arrived. The living room was packed. People were laughing, chatting, and exchanging gifts. I curled up in the corner of the couch, completely drained. But deep down, I had a sinking feeling that something else was about to happen. Sure enough, an aunt named Clara handed me a beautifully wrapped box. “Just a little gift, dear. Hope you like it.” Before I could even say thank you, Helen bolted upright and rushed into my bedroom. My stomach dropped. When she came back, she was holding a vintage cashmere shawl—the only keepsake my grandmother had left me before she passed. “Oh, Clara, you shouldn’t have! Here, take this shawl. Just a little token of our appreciation.” I forced myself to stand up. “Mom, no. That was Grandma’s…” “Hush, Chloe,” Helen snapped, cutting me off. “Clara brought us a gift. If we don’t give something back, what will people think?” “Don’t be so cheap! It’s embarrassing!” “Do you want everyone here to think I raised an ungrateful brat?” She was always like this. To her, re-gifting was “classy.” She didn’t care that the shawl was the only thing I had left of my grandmother. She thought she was doing the right thing. She never realized that every time she bought her “dignity,” I paid with my heart. A massive wave of anxiety washed over me. I dug my fingernails deep into my arm, scratching myself through my sleeves until I could feel the skin breaking. The physical pain did nothing to ease the suffocating pressure in my chest. I opened my mouth to protest, but my throat was frozen. The living room went dead silent for a few seconds. The relatives glanced at each other. Some sipped their tea; others pretended to look at their phones. Clara smiled awkwardly, folded the shawl, and slipped it into her bag. “Well, thank you,” she muttered. Nobody stood up for me. It had been like this my entire life. They watched her scream at me, watched her give away my things, and watched me swallow my tears. But they never said a word. Because it was “family business.” And I just had to take it. I finally let go of my arm. My palm was wet with a mixture of sweat and blood. I shoved my hand deep into my pocket, hiding it from view. *** **4.** While the relatives chatted in the living room, Helen went into the kitchen to prepare lunch. I lay on the couch, shivering. Suddenly, the refrigerator door slammed shut. Helen walked out, her face dark. “Why is there barely any food in the fridge?” “Mom,” I whispered weakly, “we bought groceries yesterday…” “That tiny bit of food? We have guests! You expect me to serve them scraps? Do you want them to laugh at us?” Through my blurred vision, I looked out the window. The trees were bending wildly under the howling wind. On my phone, emergency alerts for a severe winter blizzard were blaring. But Helen was in her own world, muttering frantically as she threw things in and out of the fridge. “No, this won’t do. If the guests see this, they’ll think we’re starving. It’s too embarrassing.” Watching her panic, I knew what was coming. Her anxiety was peaking. And whenever she panicked about looking bad, she always found a way to make it my problem. Sure enough, she marched over and shoved a large grocery bag into my hands. “Go to the supermarket. Get some ribs, fish, and shrimp. Hurry.” I looked out the window. “Mom, there’s a literal blizzard outside. The roads are freezing.” “So what? People are still out there,” she said without looking at me. “Just go quickly. Don’t make the guests wait. I don’t want them thinking we’re cheap.” I stood at the door, looking at her one last time. “Mom, I really don’t feel well…” “We need food! Do you want everyone to look down on me?” her voice escalated, sharp and accusing. Standing in the hallway, I could hear her laughing with the relatives inside: “Oh, don’t worry, Chloe just went to the store. She’ll be back with fresh groceries soon. We’re going to have an amazing feast today!” Aunt Sarah’s voice drifted out, “Helen, the wind is crazy out there. Is it really safe for her to go?” Helen laughed it off. “Oh, she’s an adult. It’s just a quick run to the store. What could go wrong?” I looked down at the empty grocery bag in my hands. Then, I looked out at the dark, violently swirling snowstorm outside. Helen’s voice drifted through the door again: “That girl is always so slow. Can’t even run a simple errand without dragging her feet…” Always the same complaints. She thought as long as she put on a perfect show, she’d be safe. But she never realized that I was the one paying for her stage. Today, she was afraid of looking cheap, so I had to walk into a blizzard. Yesterday, she was afraid of looking dirty, so I had to clean the entire house while sick. The day before, she was afraid of smelling bad, so I had to shower with a 104-degree fever. Every single time. Slowly, I pushed open the lobby door. And walked straight into the freezing, violent storm. *** **5.** Back in the warm apartment, Helen was still smiling and chatting with the relatives. “The dinner tonight is going to be perfect. I promise you’ll all leave stuffed.” Sarah frowned, looking out the window at the whiteout conditions. “Helen, the storm is getting worse. It’s really not safe. Call Chloe and tell her to come back. Forget the food.” Helen’s smile stiffened for a second, but she quickly brushed it off. “No, no, she’s fine. She’s a grown woman. Besides, how would it look if we didn’t serve a proper dinner? I won’t have people saying I’m a terrible host.” Sarah’s frown deepened. “Helen, she is your daughter. Since when is a ‘perfect dinner’ more important than your child’s safety?” “You’re so obsessed with what people think. You’re going to push that girl too far one day, and you’ll regret it.” Helen’s face turned sour, but she remained stubborn. “Sarah, I just want us to have some dignity. What is so wrong with that?” “I raised her alone. If I didn’t keep up appearances, people would have walked all over us. Do you think life has been easy for me?” She spoke with the same old bitterness, the same victim mentality. She still didn’t get it. Her casual demands, her constant fear of being judged, had become a lifetime of trauma for me. It was the very hand that pushed me into the storm. And she would never know that her precious “dignity” would ultimately cost her daughter’s life. Before Sarah could reply, the TV screen suddenly flashed with an emergency broadcast. A news anchor stood in the howling wind and snow, speaking urgently: “We have a breaking report. Due to the extreme blizzard, multiple trees and power lines have collapsed across the city…” “We have just received word that a young woman was struck by a falling oak tree on her way to the grocery store. Emergency services are on the scene, but her condition is currently unknown…” The smile on Helen’s face completely froze.

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At our seventh-anniversary party, Scarlett shared an intimate, arm-locked toast with her childhood best friend, Christian. I watched coldly and clapped. Scarlett sneered and mocked me in front of everyone. “It’s just a harmless game between friends. Why are you so uptight? If Christian and I actually had something going on, you wouldn’t even have had the chance to marry me.” She stormed off in anger. That night, Christian updated his Snapchat background to a cozy photo of him and Scarlett holding hands. If this had happened in the past, I would have rushed to Christian’s house, dragged Scarlett out, and begged her to tell me if she actually loved me. But this time, I didn’t care anymore. Scarlett didn’t come home until the next afternoon. At the time, I was cleaning up the mess in the backyard. Yesterday was our seventh wedding anniversary. She once said, “Everyone talks about the seven-year itch, but I don’t believe in that curse.” “For our seventh anniversary, we’re going to invite all our friends and family over. Let’s show them how happy we are.” Because of that single promise, I started preparing three months in advance. Every day after work, I dragged my exhausted body to baking classes, mixology courses, and learned recipes I had never cooked before. Yet, the anniversary party I so painstakingly prepared became a stage for her and Christian to flirt. She even stayed out all night for him. “What happened to your hand?” Scarlett noticed the cut on my index finger and asked. I looked down. “Cut it yesterday while prepping the food.” Scarlett scoffed. “Can’t even handle a simple knife. Seriously, is there anything you can do right?” The old me couldn’t stand being imperfect in her eyes. A single put-down from her would have started a thirty-minute argument, followed by my near-pathological obsession with proving myself to her. But now, even saying half a word felt like too much effort. Maybe realizing I was upset, Scarlett leaned down and grabbed my hand. “Let me do it.” I pulled away from her touch. She stubbornly reached out again, trying to grab me. As we struggled, I tripped over a stool and fell. She laughed. “So clumsy.” I didn’t say anything. Instead, my stomach spasmed violently, and I coughed up a splash of blood. Only then did she realize something was seriously wrong. Scarlett quickly pulled me up. “What’s wrong? We need to go to the hospital!” My stomach was burning like hell. I had a bad feeling, so I didn’t refuse. When we arrived at the hospital lobby, we immediately ran into Christian. He looked pale and weak, leaning into Scarlett’s arms. “Scarlett, my stomach hurts so bad. My chronic ulcer is acting up again.” Scarlett held him tightly and turned to me. “You probably just ate something bad and got a little nauseous. It’s no big deal. Just go grab a number and wait in line yourself. Christian’s condition is serious, and I’m worried. I need to take him to the ER.” I nodded. “Okay. Got it.” She froze, staring at me with a bizarre expression. “You’re not angry?” I found it amusing. Why should I be angry? Was it because I didn’t throw a massive tantrum like I used to? But now, I had zero interest. Whatever she and Christian did had nothing to do with me anymore. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll head in.” I turned and walked away. I heard her footsteps heading in the opposite direction. I didn’t look back. Later, I started coughing up more and more blood. A triage nurse noticed me and rushed me into the emergency room. Years of drinking heavy liquor at corporate networking events to secure contracts had finally caught up to me. I had a ruptured stomach ulcer. The doctor asked, “Where is your family? You need emergency surgery for a stomach perforation. They need to sign the consent form.” I stared blankly, clutching my throbbing chest. “I don’t have any family here.” I signed the form myself and wheeled myself into the operating room. From the anesthesia to the surgery, and finally to when I woke up, a full three hours passed. Scarlett never called or texted once. That evening, when Scarlett finally came home, I was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. She glanced at the dark kitchen. “Why didn’t you make dinner?”

In our seven years of marriage, as long as she came home, there would always be a piping hot meal waiting for her. Even if I had to work late or attend a business dinner, I would always order her favorite takeout before coming home. This was the first time she walked into a cold, dark kitchen. She expected me to scramble up and cook, but instead, I said flatly, “If you’re hungry, make it yourself.” Scarlett frowned and handed me a shopping bag. “I remembered you were feeling nauseous today. I bought you some heated stomach patches.” I turned my head and met her gaze. “I don’t need them. Give them to someone who does.” She didn’t know that ten minutes ago, Christian had posted a picture of a heated patch on his stomach in their Snapchat group. The hand applying the patch belonged to Scarlett—her left hand, wearing her wedding ring, was fully visible. The photo had already been deleted, but I knew these patches were just Christian’s leftovers. Just like her. Only when Christian didn’t need her would she return to my side. Scarlett opened one of the patches, stubbornly trying to press it onto my stomach. I shoved her away with force. She stumbled, her waist hitting the edge of the coffee table. Her face contorted in pain. “Ethan Crawford! What is wrong with you? Christian had a medical emergency! You just had a little stomachache from bad food. Can’t you tell the difference? Do you have to act so childish?” I looked directly into her angry eyes, completely calm. “Scarlett, I didn’t have a stomachache. My stomach ruptured.” Scarlett froze. After a long pause, she let out a mocking laugh. “Is this your new trick to get my sympathy?” “Ethan, don’t forget we get annual checkups. I’ve seen your health reports. Aren’t you disgusted with yourself for lying about something so serious?” I had once desperately wanted to build a happy home with Scarlett and provide her with a luxurious life. That was why I worked myself to the bone, chugging glasses of hard liquor just to close deals. And that was how I ended up with a ruptured stomach. In return, all I got was Scarlett giving her happiness to Christian. Perhaps this was the final warning sign of our dead-end marriage. I sat up. “Believe whatever you want.” I swept the fallen stomach patches into the trash can, threw on my jacket, and headed for the door. Scarlett demanded, “Are you throwing a tantrum and running away?” I said quietly, “A friend just bought a new place. I’m staying there for a few days.” Scarlett chased after me, her brow furrowed tightly. This was the first time she had ever tried to stop me from leaving. In the past, she would only watch coldly, knowing that no matter whose fault it was, I would crawl back within two days, begging for her forgiveness. But this time, I wasn’t going to do that. I stepped past her, got into the elevator, and pressed the door-close button. Half an hour later, I arrived at my best friend Zach’s apartment. When I told him about my emergency stomach surgery, his jaw dropped. He immediately bought me a bunch of supplements and stayed up for hours talking to me. During this time, I didn’t send a single message to Scarlett. Eventually, she sent me a single punctuation mark: “?” I ignored it. The next morning, another message popped up. [The breakfast places near the office suck.] Zach looked at me as I calmly ate my toast at his dining table. He gasped, “Holy crap, bro. You actually didn’t run home to cook for her?” I shrugged. “Yeah.” In the past, a single word from Scarlett would make me drop everything to prioritize her. But now, I was truly exhausted. Zach said sincerely, “Good. You’re finally finding your self-respect.” I stared at the ceiling for a long moment before speaking. “Zach, you’re a divorce lawyer. If I want a divorce, what’s your advice?” Zach practically jumped out of his seat, instantly listing a mountain of legal terms. Seeing my blank stare, he waved his hand. “Okay, okay, don’t worry about the details. Leave everything to me.” I stayed at his place peacefully. For days, I didn’t reply to a single text from Scarlett. Five days later, my mother-in-law, Helen, posted a photo in the family Snapchat group. She complained that her birthday was coming up, but barely anyone had come to visit her early. The photo showed a cozy family dinner. Sitting at the table was Scarlett—and right next to her, leaning in close, was Christian.

Less than ten minutes after the photo was posted, Scarlett called me. “Ethan, don’t misunderstand. My mom arranged this. She’s family, and I couldn’t just ruin her mood, so…” I cut her off. “Yeah, I know. Anything else?” “You’re… not mad?” I laughed softly. “Why would I be?” Scarlett went silent. After a moment, she said, “This Saturday is Mom’s birthday party. I’ll pick you up.” She hung up immediately, as if terrified I would refuse. On Saturday, Scarlett arrived early at Zach’s place. As the car pulled up, Christian poked his head out of the passenger seat. “Hey, Ethan! Hop in. We’ve been waiting for you for ages.” His tone and posture screamed that he was the man of the house. If this were before, I would have dragged him out of the car and hysterically forced Scarlett to choose who got to sit in the front. But this time, I merely gave a polite nod, opened the back door, and slid in. Scarlett’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. She stared at me through the rearview mirror. I offered her a polite, empty smile, then immediately looked down to text Zach. When we arrived at the Evans house, I handed over the gift I prepared. “Happy birthday, Helen.” Then, I sat down and ate quietly. Scarlett and Christian sat on either side of me, leaning across me to laugh and chat. I stood up. “Let’s swap seats. It’ll be easier for you two to talk.” The entire table froze. After all, just a few months ago, I had thrown a massive fit because Christian insisted on sitting next to Scarlett. I had pointed at his face and called him a shameless home-wrecker. No one expected me to be this calm now. Christian was thrilled and eagerly slid into my seat. Scarlett, however, stared at me, her eyes darkening. I excused myself to the restroom. When I returned, the atmosphere at the table was warm and joyful. I heard Christian say, “Helen, it’s your birthday! Why are you giving me a gift instead?” Looking closer, I saw Helen holding a diamond-encrusted vintage watch, sliding it onto Christian’s wrist. Scarlett didn’t stop her. The other relatives had mixed expressions. Everyone knew that watch was the Evans family heirloom, meant to be passed down to the son-in-law. When I married Scarlett, Helen was furious. She thought I wasn’t good enough. Over the years, since I hadn’t made any massive corporate breakthroughs, she disliked me even more. Naturally, she would never give me the watch. At her birthday last year, she had tried to give it to Christian. I had refused to let it happen. When Christian reached for it, I snatched it. During the scuffle, we both fell into the garden pond. Scarlett had saved Christian without hesitation, screaming at me. “It’s just a damn watch! Haven’t you gotten enough from this family? Why do you have to fight Christian for everything? I’ve spoiled you too much! I’ll just buy you another one!” I had caught a severe fever from the cold water, suffering in pain for two days and nights. Scarlett had mocked me: “Serves you right. This is the price for being an immature brat.” But now, I was done fighting. I walked over, picked up my coat, and politely said my goodbyes. I went home. Scarlett walked through the front door right behind me, her face incredibly tense. “Ethan Crawford, do you have any boundaries? Staying out for days is one thing, but today all our family members were there. Who were you throwing a tantrum for?” Seeing my silence, she scoffed. “What? Still acting up? Fine. Let’s just get a divorce then.” This was the third time Scarlett had threatened me with divorce. The first time was because I refused to drink with her boss, which bruised her ego. To make up for it, I arranged another dinner with her boss, drank until my stomach bled, and begged for his forgiveness while hooked up to an IV. The second time was when I accidentally broke a puzzle Christian had gifted her. She flew into a rage, and I knelt before her, crying and begging, promising there would never be a next time. But now, looking at her, I simply said, “Okay.”

For a solid thirty seconds, the living room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Scarlett looked utterly bewildered. “What did you just say?” “I said, I agree to the divorce.” The divorce papers Zach drafted were right in my bag. Just as I was about to pull them out, Scarlett suddenly let out a condescending laugh. “Playing hard to get? Ethan, your tricks are too pathetic. I’m not falling for it!” With that, she slammed the door and left. For the next month, she didn’t step foot in the house. During that time, her best friend called me. “Scarlett got into a minor car accident and is in the hospital. You need to come see her.” I replied, “I’m not a doctor. Seeing me won’t cure her. If she needs care, hire a nurse. Or, I’m sure Christian would be more than happy to do it.” I was stepping aside for them. Scarlett should have been thrilled. But surprisingly, right after I hung up, Scarlett rushed home. The cold aura radiating from her was enough to freeze the room. She didn’t speak to me, but she silently prepared my breakfast and washed my clothes with a sullen face. On top of that, she brought home a collectible mystery toy box every single day. That was one of my few hobbies. In the past, whenever I got one, I would take dozens of photos and show off our “sweet life” on my Instagram. Now, those unopened boxes were just tossed into a corner, gathering dust. Scarlett saw them but pretended nothing was wrong. She seemed to have completely forgotten about the divorce. Zach advised me not to rush things, so I didn’t bring it up again either. We lived in this tense, silent stalemate. Seeing my low mood, Zach suggested we go out to clear my head, and I agreed. We planned to meet at a newly opened country resort. But the moment I got out of my car and walked through the entrance, someone grabbed my shoulder. “Ethan? Are you stalking me again?” The evening glow illuminated the clear delight on Scarlett’s face. “I won’t hold it against you this time. My friends are over there. Come join us. You know all of them.” Without giving me a choice, she dragged me into their private dining room. Indeed, they were all familiar faces—including Christian. When he saw me, his face stiffened before he put on a shocked expression. “Ethan? What are you doing here?” Someone replied, “Ethan is Scarlett’s husband. Of course he can come.” Scarlett chimed in, “Don’t offer me any drinks tonight. I have to drive.” The crowd teased her immediately. “Oh, look who’s talking!” “I guess having your husband around changes things.” “Who knew Scarlett could be so whipped?” Scarlett didn’t deny it. She just looked at me with a soft, smiling gaze. Christian’s face darkened. He looked at me provocatively. “It’s good that you’re here, Ethan. I actually bought a gift on my way over. Why don’t you help me take a look?” Without waiting for my response, he pulled a velvet box from his pocket and opened it in front of Scarlett. “Valentine’s Day is in a few days. I had this custom-made. Scarlett, do you like it?” Inside the box was a pair of matching couple rings. He claimed he wanted my opinion, but his eyes were locked entirely on Scarlett. His intention couldn’t have been more obvious. Finding this incredibly tedious, I stood up to leave. “I don’t know anything about jewelry. I have somewhere else to be. Excuse me.” Scarlett bolted upright, panic washing over her face. But Christian was faster. He ran to block my path, looking tearful and terrified. “Ethan, please don’t get the wrong idea! I just bought these for fun because they looked pretty. Scarlett and I really aren’t what you think!” As he spoke, he made sure to tilt the rings so the inner engravings faced me. *Scarlett & Christian.* And right between their names was a tiny heart. The custom brand was the exact jewelry company Scarlett worked for. Meeting Scarlett’s panicked eyes under the gaze of everyone in the room, I did something completely unexpected.

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My grandfather was terminally ill. His only wish was to see me play our family’s legendary piece, *The Tempest*, on our heritage cello at Lincoln Center. But on the night of the performance, I was blocked outside the theater. Only then did I find out that my girlfriend, Chloe, had secretly cancelled my solo. She did it just to give her crush Chase’s boy band the spotlight. I waited outside the theater until the curtain fell, only to see her walking out with her arm around Chase, talking about going out for drinks to celebrate. Grandpa passed away from the shock. But Chloe just accused me of making a big deal out of nothing. “No one wants to watch that boring, dusty classical stuff anyway. I did it for the show’s ratings.” “Chase is the leader of a top boy band with an unlimited future. How does your broken cello even compare to his singing and dancing?” My mother kicked me out of Grandpa’s funeral. She said I was the murderer who killed him. She screamed at me, saying I didn’t deserve to inherit the Vance family’s cello-making legacy. Facing the accusations of my relatives, I was speechless. I had personally promised Grandpa that I would bring *The Tempest* back to the grand stage and win the trophy at the National Showcase. But I failed. I knelt outside the memorial hall, bowed deeply three times, and walked home like a ghost. I sat on the sofa in the dark until midnight. Chloe walked in smelling of alcohol. She flicked on the light and gasped, “Why are you sitting there in the dark without making a sound? You scared the hell out of me!” I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the red mark on her neck. An unspeakable disgust rose in my chest. She acted completely normal, walking over and throwing her legs across my lap, signaling for me to massage her. “Sorry, my phone was on silent. I missed your calls.” Smelling the faint scent of men’s cologne on her, I felt sick. I coldly pushed her legs off me and stood up to leave. Chloe grabbed my arm, frowning with impatience. “What’s with the attitude?” “So what if I swapped your performance? I told you there was a reason, and I already apologized. What more do you want?” I remained silent. I thought back to this morning when the security guards blocked me outside Lincoln Center. She had texted me saying the schedule changed last minute and told me not to worry. She even promised she would find a way to get me on stage. Yet, I waited until the lights went out, and I couldn’t even take a single step into the venue. A sharp pain pierced my chest, making it hard to breathe. “A reason? Your reason was staying out drinking with Chase until now?” Her face stiffened, and she guiltily looked away. “Stop being so unreasonable. Who listens to classical cello these days? As the producer, I had to think about the ratings.” “If you really want to play that bad, go set up a stage in some local park. You can play there all day.” I let out a bitter laugh. I wanted to play? She knew exactly how many years of blood and sweat I had poured into this instrument. To me, it was never just a gig. It was our family’s legacy. It was the survival of a dying craft. Yet, she destroyed my dream with her own hands. I didn’t want to waste any more breath. “We’re done. Let’s break up.” She stared at me, her eyes wide, screaming, “You’re breaking up with me over this petty little thing?!” I didn’t want to look at her for another second. I grabbed my jacket and slammed the door behind me. Back then, Chloe only got her job as a producer at Lincoln Center because Grandpa used his connections to help her. Grandpa loved her like his own granddaughter. He had even prepared our family’s Victorian emerald-and-diamond set—something even I rarely got to see—as an engagement gift for her. In the end, we had only raised a parasitic snake. I walked aimlessly down the rainy street. Suddenly, I saw the giant screen on the opposite mall broadcasting Chase’s post-show interview. He was wearing a flashy black sequin outfit, with the prestigious stage of Lincoln Center—the stage I had dreamed of—right behind him. When asked about the act he had replaced, he just smirked, his tone arrogant and dismissive. “What was it called? *The Tempest*? Please, what era are we in? That kind of ancient junk is long outdated. It has no right to be on a stage like Lincoln Center.” “I want to give a special shoutout to our producer, Chloe Bennett. If she hadn’t cut that act in time, we wouldn’t have been able to perform and take first place…” I couldn’t listen to the rest of the interview. My umbrella slipped from my hand, falling onto the wet pavement. A wave of bitterness flooded my throat. So, this was the “reason” she talked about? I let out a soft sneer. Suddenly, the weight in my heart lifted. A heart that cold was never worth warming in the first place.

When the rain slowed down, I took a cab back to Lincoln Center. The heritage cello I used for rehearsals was still backstage. I had to get it back. That cello was the last remaining masterpiece hand-crafted by my great-grandfather. It was a priceless historical relic. Originally, it was scheduled to be officially donated to the Metropolitan Museum of Art after the performance. I was worried that the stage crew might damage it if they moved it carelessly. But when I rushed into the backstage dressing room, I froze. Chloe and Chase were there, celebrating. They were dancing closely, their bodies pressed together in an intimate hold. “Ethan can’t even compare to you, Chase. He spends all day hugging that piece of old wood. Did he really think he was worthy of performing here? In his dreams!” Chloe’s words drew loud laughter from the crew. My fists clenched. She really had no soul. Thinking of Grandpa’s hopeful eyes on his deathbed, and my mother’s hair that had gone white overnight, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I burst into the room. But when I looked at the table, horror struck me. My heritage cello was buried under a pile of random trash, and a half-open can of Coke was knocked over next to it. The dark, sticky liquid was dripping right onto the rare wood panel of the instrument. My heart stopped. I violently shoved Chase aside and roared, “Get the hell away!” A heritage cello made of rare aged wood is extremely vulnerable to moisture. If the acidic soda soaked into the wood, the instrument would be ruined. I dropped to my knees, frantically brushing the trash away, using my sleeves to carefully wipe the liquid off the strings and the body. Before I could inspect the damage further, Chloe shoved me hard from behind. “Are you insane?!” she screamed. “How dare you lay a hand on him? Do you know how many millions of fans Chase has? If he gets hurt, they’ll tear you to pieces!” Looking at her, I felt a deep, chilling amusement. Amused by her sheer ignorance, and amused by my own stupidity for wasting three years of my life on her. I slowly stood up and looked her dead in the eyes. “This cello is a registered national treasure. It was supposed to be moved to the Met next week. If it is damaged because of you, the price you pay will be more than you can ever afford!” The room fell dead silent for a second. Then, a loud scoff broke the silence. Chase crossed his arms, walking toward me with pure disdain. “You really love making up stories, don’t you? Since when does the Met accept random garbage? If it’s really that valuable, would you just leave it lying around here?” “Chase is right,” Chloe chimed in, sneering. “You’re just jealous that Chase won first place, so you’re here to make a scene!” Chloe and Chase mocked me back and forth, and the rest of the dance crew joined in, laughing loudly. I ignored them. I picked up the cello, wanting nothing more than to leave this place. I had already failed Grandpa once. This time, I had to protect the last thing he left behind, no matter what. Seeing me walk away, Chloe felt her pride wounded. She screamed behind me, trying to humiliate me further. “Keep pretending, Ethan! I regret not dumping a loser like you sooner. A useless piece of trash like you deserves to spend the rest of your life hugging that rotten wood!” Her words hit my ears, but they couldn’t stir a single wave in my heart anymore. I merely smiled. In a way, I was relieved. At least I finally saw her for what she was. Suddenly, Chase stepped in front of me and kicked me hard in the chest. The cello slipped from my arms and hit the hard floor with a dull, heavy thud. “No!” When I saw the corner of the rare wood crack against the concrete, my heart shattered into pieces.

Three years ago, this cello had been sent for a minor restoration. The old master luthier had praised its pristine condition, warning me repeatedly that the wood was of a legendary grade and the acoustic quality was irreplaceable. It had to be preserved at all costs. Because the materials were extinct, any major damage would make it impossible to restore. I stood there as if struck by lightning, my legs trembling so hard I couldn’t move. But Chase wasn’t done. He laughed, kicking the cello case. “Let me help you trash this garbage.” The rage in my chest exploded. I lunged forward, grabbing his collar, and growled, “Back off! If there is one more scratch on my cello, I swear to God you won’t walk out of this room alive!” Because of the sheer fury, my voice shook. But to them, it sounded like a hollow threat. Chase’s expression darkened, and he threw a heavy punch straight at my face. The blow landed hard on my jaw. The taste of blood filled my mouth instantly. I stumbled back several steps, nearly falling over. Seeing me down, he wanted to teach me a lesson. He raised his fist again, lunging at me. I wasn’t a punching bag. I wiped the blood from my mouth, spat on the floor, and tackled him. From the cancelled show to the ruined cello, all the pain and anger in my chest burst out. My eyes went red as I fought him with everything I had. The rest of the crew was stunned for a second before they all rushed in to pull me off. I was outnumbered. Within seconds, three guys pinned my arms behind my back. Chase stepped forward, putting his boot heavily on my face, pressing me into the floor. Chloe stood on the side, clapping her hands in delight. “So hot, Chase! You’re a real man!” Fully fueled by her praise, Chase smirked arrogantly. He gripped my jaw tight, forcing me to look up. “Get on your knees, kiss my shoes, and beg for mercy. Maybe then I’ll let you go. What do you say?” I clenched my teeth, mustered all my strength, and spat blood directly onto his face. “Trash.” Chase’s face went completely cold. He wiped his face, and the surrounding crew members began egging him on, shouting for him to break me. The next second, I saw him walking toward the cello lying on the floor. Panic seized me. I thrashed wildly, trying to break free from the hold. “Chase! If you have a problem, bring it to me!” But it was too late. Chase stomped his heavy boot right onto the center of the cello’s body. Then, he bent down and violently ripped the strings off one by one. My eyes widened. I felt a nerve in my brain snap right along with those strings. No! Tears instantly flooded my eyes. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my body, and the three guys holding me could barely keep me down. “Damn, this kid is strong!” In the struggle, a sharp, dislocating pain shot through my left shoulder. My arm was out of its socket. But I couldn’t care less. I screamed at Chase with bloodshot eyes. “Stop! You animal! Stop!” But my agony only made them more excited. Chloe picked up another can of Coke and shook it violently. Then, she popped the tab right in front of my face. The spraying soda forced me to close my eyes. The sweet, sticky liquid rushed into my mouth, tasting incredibly bitter. Not satisfied with just humiliating me, Chloe turned around and poured the remaining soda all over the exposed wood of the cello. Finally, she crushed the empty can and threw it at my head. She jumped up and down, dancing to the background music as if she had just won a lottery. “Oh look, Ethan is crying! What a baby! A grown man crying over a toy, so pathetic!” My voice was completely gone. I could do nothing but watch them desecrate my family’s legacy. As the heir of the Vance family, I couldn’t even protect my own instrument. What right did I have to talk about legacy? Chase had his fun. He walked back over to me, pulled two crumpled hundred-dollar bills from his pocket, and slapped them onto my bloody face. “Here. For your little toy.”

Chloe put on her jacket, walked over, and wrapped her arm around Chase’s. She whined in a sweet, spoiled voice. “Chase, you’re way too generous. Two hundred dollars for a piece of moldy wood? He’s making a massive profit!” To show off, Chloe raised her heel and stomped directly onto the center of the cracked cello. *CRACK.* A loud, agonizing sound echoed through the room. The already fragile instrument snapped clean in half. My mind went completely blank. Chloe, however, shrugged as if nothing happened. “What cheap wood. I barely touched it and it broke.” “Oh ouch! A splinter scratched my ankle. Look, Chase, it’s bleeding!” My ears were ringing. I couldn’t hear her high-pitched whining. I balled the two bills into a tight fist and threw them hard at Chase’s face. Before they could react, I lunged forward with all my strength and shoved Chloe’s shoulder. She couldn’t withstand the force. Her slender body flew backward, crashing hard into the vanity mirror. Makeup bottles and glass shattered everywhere. None of them expected me to fight back. After a brief pause of shock, the crew members threw themselves at me again. They pinned me down, raining punches and kicks onto my body. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I curled into a ball, shielding my head. Tears streamed down my face. Chase wasn’t satisfied. He picked up one of the broken halves of the cello, raising it high above his head, ready to smash it down onto me. Right then, Chloe suddenly called out. She looked at her phone, her face lighting up with excitement. “The security guard says the directors from the National Opera House are here! They’re looking for the headliner!” Her eyes shined as she grabbed Chase’s arm. “Chase! They must be looking for you!” “They were supposed to present the award tonight but had to leave early. They must have seen the recording of your performance and came back to congratulate you!” “Go show them what you’ve got. If you get drafted into the National Symphony, you’ll be set for life!” Hearing this, Chase’s eyes widened in shock, which quickly turned into smug anticipation. He immediately walked over to the mirror to fix his hair. I wanted to laugh. Congratulate him? If Chloe hadn’t bribed the judges, did Chase really think his mediocre, clown-like dancing was enough to get him into the National Symphony? I glanced at the blinking red light of the security camera on the ceiling. The dead embers in my heart sparked again. The security footage, the physical evidence, the witnesses. Everyone in this room today would pay in blood. At that moment, the door to the dressing room was pushed open. A crowd of media reporters carrying cameras flooded in. Chloe reacted instantly, screaming at the top of her lungs, directing all the cameras toward me. “Look at this! A random psycho just broke in and assaulted our star! Is there no law in this city?!” She lived up to her reputation, exaggerating every detail, telling the press how I was jealous of Chase’s success and how I brutally attacked him. She painted me as a violent monster. No matter how I tried to explain, my voice was drowned out by the flashing cameras and pointing fingers. I saw the broken pieces of my cello lying on the floor, being kicked around by the careless reporters. The pain was unbearable. I dragged my bruised body over and fell to my knees in front of the wreckage. My hands shook as I gathered the splintered pieces. Hot tears dripped onto the ruined wood. The legendary, extinct wood was now reduced to splinters, soaked in sticky soda, its original luster completely gone. Chloe got more excited as she spoke, walking over to kick some dust toward me. “You shameless criminal! Chase is a rising star. If his career is affected by his injuries, you’ll rot in prison!” She pulled out her phone to call the cops, shouting at me. “We have cameras here, and plenty of witnesses! I will make sure you pay for this!” Just then, two figures walked into the room. An elderly man wearing a sharp, bespoke tweed suit scanned the chaotic room. When his eyes landed on the broken cello in my arms, his face went pale with shock. “What is going on here? Who did this?!”

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On the night of our engagement party, my fiancée was kissing her childhood best friend passionately under the sycamore tree we had planted with our own hands. I looked down at my paralyzed legs in the wheelchair. Slowly, I slipped the ring off my finger and silently wished them a lifetime of happiness. Yet, she thought I was just throwing a tantrum. “I only got delayed for a few hours because I had to pick up Julian. What is your problem, Ethan?” “Who was the one who begged on his knees for this engagement? It’s already a miracle that I even showed up. What more do you want, Ethan Vance?” Julian stood behind her, pretending to apologize. “Ethan, this is my fault. Don’t blame Vivian. My car—” Before he could finish, Vivian interrupted him. “There’s nothing to explain. He’ll be crying and begging for my forgiveness in a few days anyway.” But Vivian was wrong. This time, I was never looking back. 0 I watched the clock tick away in the empty banquet hall. Finally, I pressed the button on my electric wheelchair, preparing to leave. Just as I turned around, the heavy doors burst open. Vivian strutted in, looking stunning in a vibrant red mermaid dress. “Where is everyone? They all left? Already?” She glanced around the empty room. Finally, her eyes landed on my legs, and her brows furrowed in distaste. “Did you really sit here looking like this the entire night?” I pulled a blanket from the back of my wheelchair and covered my legs. I did it to hide my disability, and to shield myself from the disgust in her eyes. “I called off the party,” I said quietly. My heart ached so much I could barely breathe. Once, when Vivian and I were deeply in love, she would roll up my jeans and kiss my scarred knees over and over again. Now, even looking at me felt like a waste of her time. “Why would you cancel it? I was only a few hours late. It’s not like I didn’t show up.” Vivian sounded completely justified. Clearly, she didn’t take my words seriously. “Besides, I was picking up Julian. How could he not be here for such an important moment?” Julian was her childhood friend. They grew up next door to each other. Later, Julian went abroad, and they lost touch for years. Until two years ago, when Julian made a high-profile return to Boston with his artificial heart technology. Vivian, who was also dedicated to medical research, saw this. And just like that, they reconnected. Julian did the research, Vivian poured in the money. They became inseparable. She was even willing to leave me waiting for hours at our own engagement party just for him. I could understand her being busy with work. But they spent every evening and weekend together. No man in his right mind would be okay with that. “Since he is so important, why do you even need me at this engagement party?” Vivian lost her patience. She waved her hand dismissively, her face twisting with irritation. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you blaming me?” She swung her designer bag and threw it right at my face. I didn’t even try to dodge it. It didn’t actually hurt. But compared to my shattered heart, I found it pathetic that I almost wanted to thank her for not hitting harder. I said nothing. I picked up her bag, gently dusted it off, and placed it on the floor. Then, I pressed the controller of my wheelchair to leave. “Vivian, you should explain things to Ethan…” Julian, who had been standing silently in the background, finally spoke up as I turned away. “There’s nothing to explain! Look at him, acting like a dramatic teenager at his age!” Vivian snapped. “Just let him go. He has no car, no house, no savings, and no job. I support his entire life. How could he even survive without me?” “Even this engagement party was something he begged me for.” I let out a bitter laugh. Yes, I had begged for the engagement. I had begged for her commitment. Vivian truly believed I had no financial resources and relied entirely on her. That was why she felt so free to hurt me, confident that I would never leave her side. My fingertips dug into the armrest of my wheelchair. For the first time, Vivian felt like a complete stranger to me. Seeing that I wasn’t stopping, Vivian yelled at my back, “Ethan Vance! I work my ass off out there every single day to support this family. I don’t come home just to deal with your attitude!” “It’s bad enough that you do nothing at home, but can’t you at least show some empathy?” “I was exhausted, but I still made time to come here. And you? You just throw a fit and walk away. What is wrong with you?” In the past, if Vivian got this angry, I would have rushed to comfort her. I used to be so terrified of her ignoring me. But now, all I felt was a cold, dead numbness. I had loved Vivian for ten years. From her awkward teenage years to her current status as a successful businesswoman, I loved every single piece of her. But now, I was just too tired to love her anymore. 0

“The engagement party is cancelled. Let’s cancel the wedding too.” I didn’t turn back. I just pressed the button and rode away. As soon as I rolled out of the hotel lobby, I heard Vivian screaming inside. “Who does Ethan think he is? A cripple dares to dump me?” “I’d love to see who else would want a pathetic invalid like him!” Those words threw whatever warmth was left in my heart straight into an icy abyss. Ten years! Ten whole years! In her eyes, I was nothing but a pathetic invalid, a cripple kept alive by expensive medication! My hands clenched over my knees. The pain in my chest was suffocating. It wasn’t always like this between us. Vivian and I met in high school. The first thing she ever said to me was, “Ethan Vance, the legendary straight-A student. Nice to meet you.” Back then, Vivian wore her hair in a high ponytail. The summer sun was blinding, but her bright smile was even brighter. I was hooked instantly. Later, she always came to me for physics help. Then, the school rearranged the classes. We ended up in the same class, sitting next to each other. We grew closer and closer. Years later, I found out that she had her wealthy family pull strings with the school board just so she could be my desk mate, claiming it was easier to ask me for homework help. That was when I realized she was the heiress to the massive Sterling Medical Group. And I, a boy from a poor rural family, wouldn’t have even been fit to stand next to her if not for my top grades. To stay by her side, I applied to the same medical school at Boston University. Fortunately, we ended up in the same class again. Just like in high school, we spent every day together. Naturally, we fell in love. After graduation, we interned at the city’s top hospital together. Her family wanted her to take over the family business. But Vivian wanted to be a medical pioneer, to prove herself in the operating room and escape her family’s control. Until the accident three years ago. We had a patient with severe lung fibrosis. The only way to save him was a lung transplant. Before the surgery, Vivian and several nurses explained the high risks to the family, and they signed the consent forms. But the patient died on the table. That night, Vivian cried in my arms for hours. It was her first time assisting in a major surgery, and she had to witness the cruelty of death firsthand. I did my best to comfort her. But what we didn’t expect was that the patient’s family refused to accept the outcome. That night, a grieving, deranged relative smuggled a weapon into the hospital. He burst into Vivian’s department, slashing wildly in a state of absolute madness. To protect Vivian, I threw myself in front of her. My legs were severely injured in the attack. Before I could even register the pain, I blacked out. Vivian emerged from the incident completely unscathed. But I lost the use of my legs. I could never stand at an operating table again. When I woke up, Vivian was crying at my bedside. Her eyes were swollen. “Ethan, you’re finally awake. I was so scared.” “The chief doctor said if you do rehab, you might walk again.” “Don’t worry. I will stay with you. I will take care of you for the rest of my life.” Because she promised “the rest of my life,” I believed her. But that incident terrified the Sterling family. They feared another accident. Using my medical bills and rehabilitation resources as leverage, they forced Vivian to leave the hospital and take over the family company. If she said no, they would cut off all my medical care. Vivian had no choice but to agree. She turned out to be a brilliant businesswoman. Within three years, she built a top-tier medical empire in the city. Meanwhile, I stepped into the shadows. I took care of her daily life, her meals, and her home. I did this for three years. My family was poor, and now I was disabled. The Sterling family despised me. They felt I was an embarrassment to Vivian. For years, they forced Vivian to hide me from the public. They even made her declare to the media that she was single. I never cared about any of that. All I wanted was Vivian’s heart. I thought my loyalty was enough. Until Julian returned. He brought a sense of danger I had never felt before. At first, I didn’t mind when Vivian invested in his technology. But then they started spending all their time together. She would abandon me for Julian without a second thought. Sometimes, we wouldn’t see each other for a whole month. So, a few days ago, I brought up the fact that I had saved her life. I used it to make a deal with her. I asked her to marry me. I hoped that marriage would make her settle down. But when I saw her skip our engagement party for Julian, and when I saw the photo of them kissing under the sycamore tree… I realized how wrong I was. Marriage isn’t a cage. It can never hold someone who doesn’t love you. 0

The next day, I visited my former colleague, Dr. Marcus Reed, at his office. For three years, my physical therapy had shown little progress. After researching alternative medicine, I wanted to try specialized acupuncture. I came today to get his professional opinion. To my surprise, Marcus highly supported the idea. He mentioned there was an international medical seminar next month, and he would help me find a top acupuncture specialist. I thanked him and left the hospital. Passing by a mall, I saw Vivian and Julian on the giant outdoor screen. They were being interviewed. The headline read: *Major Breakthrough in Artificial Heart Tech on Animal Trials! Human Trials on the Horizon!* The medical world was buzzing. After the professional questions, the reporter asked a gossipy question about Vivian’s private life. “Rumor has it that you and Mr. Drake are very close, working day and night together. Now that the technology has made a breakthrough, has your personal relationship made a breakthrough too?” Vivian didn’t answer. She looked down, avoiding the camera. But even through the screen, I could see her cheeks flushing with a soft pink glow. She used to look at me like that when we first started dating. I hadn’t seen that look since my legs were ruined. “We are not answering personal questions today, thank you,” Julian answered smoothly, but his hand naturally slid around Vivian’s waist. Vivian was wearing a stunning black dress with a cut-out waist. The design accentuated her slender figure. Julian’s hand rested comfortably on her bare skin. It hurt to watch. I turned my head away. Perhaps Julian was the son-in-law the Sterling family had always dreamed of. They grew up together, and he was highly successful. If this research succeeded, his future in the medical industry would be limitless. I decided to go home and pack a few clothes to move out. But when I opened the front door, I saw Julian and Vivian chatting warmly in the living room. “See? I told you he’d come back,” Vivian said to Julian. My heart wrenched. Even though I had told myself a thousand times to let go, this was still the woman I had loved for ten years. How could I become completely indifferent overnight? “I’m only here to pack some clothes.” “Ethan, are you still throwing a tantrum?” Vivian sighed, exasperated. “Do we really have to play this childish game of ‘choose between us’?” “Do you have any idea how important Julian’s research is? If it succeeds, it could open up the entire European market for Sterling Medical. Do you even understand that?” “I don’t care.” Those three words seemed to make Vivian explode. The look in her eyes shifted from anger to disbelief, and finally to condescending pity. “Right. You’re just a househusband who only knows how to cook. Why would you understand business? I’m talking to a brick wall here.” “Since you’re back, get ready. You’re coming to Julian’s celebration gala with me tonight.” “Why would I go?” She knew how many times we had fought over Julian. And now she wanted me to attend a party thrown entirely in his honor? “My parents are hosting it. They are already furious that you unilaterally called off the engagement party. You embarrassed them.” “This is your chance to apologize to them and make a good impression.” I stared at Vivian, wondering what was going on in her head. I would never win her parents’ favor at Julian’s victory party. My presence would only make me look pathetic and small next to him. “I’m not going, Vivian. I made myself clear yesterday. The wedding is off.” “From now on, I don’t care what your parents think of me.” 0

I saw Vivian’s pupils contract. She froze. In the past, I had walked on eggshells just to please her parents. She probably never expected me to talk back like this. “If Ethan doesn’t want to go, let’s not force him,” Julian said softly from the side. “He has been shut out from society for years because of his condition. It might be uncomfortable for him to attend such a large event.” He put a nasty emphasis on “his condition.” Vivian stayed silent for a few seconds, then nodded. “It’s your celebration, Julian. You call the shots.” Then she turned back to me, her voice cold. “Let me tell you something, Ethan. Even if we break up, I will be the one to announce it, not you.” “As long as I haven’t called it off, you are still my fiancé!” “You guys,” she ordered the bodyguards at the door, “keep an eye on him. He is not allowed to leave this house.” Vivian was incredibly proud. Being dumped by a disabled man was a massive blow to her ego. But I didn’t expect her to put me under house arrest. I thought about it and decided to go to the gala after all. Julian’s words actually reminded me of something. Since the Sterlings cared so much about their reputation, seeing me “unfit for society” at the gala would make them force Vivian to break up with me even faster. I didn’t care who officially called it off, as long as we broke up. It was better than being locked up at home. When I arrived at the hotel ballroom, the sheer scale of the event shocked me. It was far more luxurious than our planned engagement party. The buzzing room fell silent for a few seconds when I rolled in. Especially Vivian’s parents. Their faces turned incredibly grim. A security guard immediately rolled me to a dark corner and held onto my wheelchair, preventing me from moving. I spent the entire night watching Vivian and Julian laugh and socialize. When the gala finally ended, the guards wheeled me to Vivian’s parents in a private lounge. The moment I stopped, a sharp slap stung my face. Mr. Sterling glared at me, his face twisted in rage. “A useless cripple like you dared to cancel the engagement publicly? You made a laughingstock of the Sterling family!” “If word gets out that Vivian was dumped by a cripple, what respectable bachelor would ever marry her?” “Do you forget how you got this engagement in the first place? If not for that accident three years ago, you wouldn’t even be worthy of wiping our shoes!” I looked at Vivian. She stood there quietly, watching me get insulted without saying a word. At that moment, my heart completely died. For Vivian, I had tolerated her family’s abuse for years. But not anymore. “And whose fault is it that I became a cripple?” I snapped back, my voice echoing in the room. “You call me a cripple over and over again. But if this ‘cripple’ hadn’t blocked that weapon three years ago, your precious daughter would be six feet under by now!” I slammed the joystick of my electric wheelchair forward, driving straight at them. “Today, I’ll show you that even a cripple can make you crawl on your knees to apologize!”

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My Alpha husband thought I was boring, so he wanted to take my sister as his lover. I let him.Because my first love was coming to take me away, too. * By my tenth year as Luna of the Ravencroft Pack, I was finally tired of it all. I stopped checking which border cabin Cassian Ravencroft had gone to at night, or whose bed he had ended up in. I stopped wondering whether he loved me at all. Even when the healer brought me a vial of moonvine contraceptive, I drank it without so much as frowning. Cassian returned to the Ravencroft main house after nightfall. He stood beside the bed and called my name in a low voice. “Honey, I didn’t come home these past few days because Sable was hurt.” “She chased a pack of rogues who crossed the territory line to poach in our valley. One of them cut her with a silver blade.” “If I hadn’t gone after her, she would have kept pushing herself.” I lifted the blanket and moved farther into the bed. “It’s fine. Get some sleep. You have elders to meet tomorrow.” Cassian seemed to pause. “You’re really not going to make a scene??” I nodded. Everyone had someone they could never quite forget. As it happened, mine had returned too. … Cassian stood by the bed for a long time without moving. “I’m the Alpha of Ravencroft. I can’t exactly let her get hurt on my territory and do nothing.” At last, I opened my eyes and smiled faintly. “You’ve always been merciful.” My gaze dropped to the smear of red on his cuff. It was Sable’s favorite shade of lipstick. Years ago, when the Ashcroft Pack had to send one of its daughters to marry into Ravencroft, my half sister Sable knelt in front of me. “Lenora, I don’t want to be trapped in the Alpha’s house.” “I still want to ride my motorcycle through the mountain roads. I want to chase rogues. I want to hunt in the northern forests. I want to be myself.” “Will you become the Luna in my place?” I agreed. Later, I became the Luna of the Ravencroft Pack. And she remained free, untamed Sable. But after the bond ceremony, Cassian went to see her almost every night in the private cabin at the edge of the territory. There, they lived like real lovers, wild and free. And I was left inside the heavily guarded Ravencroft main house. Cassian reached out as if to touch me. I turned my face away. His hand froze in midair. After a moment, he took a paper bag from his coat pocket. Inside was a caramel candy shaped like a wolf pup, already a little melted. “I saw it on the way back.” “The medicine is bitter.” “Have something sweet.” I looked at the misshapen candy wolf, unsure what expression I was supposed to make. Once, when I said I liked the sweets sold at the town fair, he told me street food was dirty. “The Luna of Ravencroft shouldn’t be greedy like a little pup.” And now, he had remembered to buy me candy. I didn’t take it. “Thank you, Cassian.” Cassian frowned. “Lenora, I brought this to you myself. Don’t look at me like I’ve wronged you.” “Is this still about Sable?” Of course I had been upset. On the night of our bonding ceremony, Sable sent someone to the estate, saying she was going alone to take down a nest of rogues who had betrayed Ravencroft. Cassian had just taken off his suit jacket. The moment he heard her name, he stood. I asked him, “Does it have to be tonight?” He said, “You know what she’s like. She’s never been afraid of anything.” “If no one stops her, she really will shift and charge into that abandoned warehouse district tonight.” He came back at dawn. There was a shallow scratch on his neck. He said Sable had refused to come back, that she had scratched him by accident while struggling, and that he had spent the entire night calming her down. I cried. I fought. Eventually, I stopped asking. Cassian seemed ready to explain further when a guard’s voice came from outside the door. “Alpha, someone from Miss Ashcroft’s side is here.” “She shook off the patrol team and left word that she was heading to Moon Harbor tonight to settle things with the rogues who crossed the border and stole our prey.” Cassian’s expression changed. I closed my eyes again. “Go.” He didn’t move. I added, “If she really storms into Moon Harbor, you’ll blame me tomorrow for keeping you here.” Cassian’s voice darkened. “Lenora, do you have to turn everything into a jab?” I said nothing. A dull pain tugged low in my abdomen. I frowned and held it back. Even if I told him, he wouldn’t care. In the end, Cassian still left. Before he went, he threw one sentence behind him. “Get some rest. Stop using your health to punish me.” The door closed. Then the window sounded with three soft taps. An old silver ring was pushed through the crack. A tiny wolf-head crest was engraved on the inside of the band. V. In that instant, heat rushed into my eyes and my heart began to pound. Valehart. Beneath the ring was a note. There was only one line on it. “Lenora, if the Ravencroft Pack won’t protect you, I will.” Three years ago, the man I loved most—Ronan Valehart—died in a firefight on the northern smuggling route. They never found his body. The appearance of this ring meant one thing. He was alive. With trembling hands, I tucked the ring beneath my pillow.

The next morning, Sable came to the Ravencroft estate. The moment she stepped into the main hall, she wrinkled her nose. “Lenora, this place is still so stuffy.” She looked around, then laughed. “If I had to live here for three days, I’d probably forget how to run in wolf form.” I leaned back on the sofa and said nothing. Cassian had come with her. He hadn’t even changed out of his black suit jacket. Clearly, the moment his pack meeting ended, he had personally gone to the gate to receive her. Sable strode over to me. “Oh my God, why do you look so awful?” As soon as she said it, she patted her mouth as if she had only just realized. “Look at me. I’ve spent too much time outside. I’m too blunt.” “You’ve been Luna for so many years, Lenora. All those rules, all those worries—of course your complexion would suffer.” “I took medicine,” I said. “That tends to happen.” Cassian’s face shifted. Sable blinked. “You mean the moonvine contraceptive?” “I was only joking the other day. I said if Lenora had a pup, Cassian would never come out to patrol with me again.” “I didn’t expect him to actually send the healer with it.” Her eyes lowered, and her voice softened. “Lenora, you’re not mad at me, are you?” I shook my head. “What would I be mad about?” She tugged at Cassian’s sleeve. “See? Lenora won’t even talk to me properly now.” “She used to climb walls with me and teach me to ride. If anyone bullied me, she’d be the first one to charge out.” She laughed with open, careless brightness. “After becoming the Luna of Ravencroft, she’s like a different person.” Cassian frowned. “Lenora isn’t well. Stop provoking her.” That was what he said, but his tone softened when he looked at Sable. Sable tilted her face up toward him. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t Ravencroft’s Alpha.” The hall suddenly went quiet. Then she laughed again. “Then I could steal you away to the Silver Coast. Red Canyon. The northern snowfields.” “No elders. No meetings. No pack politics.” Cassian smiled too. “Sable, you’re still as wild as ever.” I lowered my eyes. I used to be an excellent rider too. In wolf form, I could track prey for dozens of miles. I was the one who taught Sable to ride for the first time. I was the one who took her out to learn how to identify traces left behind by rogues. But later, everyone praised her for being bright and free. They only called me dull and boring. I had never liked this estate with its locked gates and high walls either. A sharp cramp suddenly pulled low in my abdomen. The teacup in my hand slipped and shattered on the floor. Only then did Cassian snap back to himself. “Lenora, what’s wrong?” He reached out to support me. I avoided him. “It’s nothing.” His expression darkened. “Who told you to drink it?” I looked up at him. “You sent the healer with it. Was I supposed to refuse?” Cassian froze. Sable hurriedly tugged at him. “Don’t be angry at Lenora. She’s been stuck in the estate too long. Of course she overthinks.” “I’m not like that. When something upsets me, I just shift and fight it out.” Cassian stared at me, his voice hoarse. “Lenora, you could have made a scene.” “When I told you to drink moonvine before, you threw the bottle straight at the wall.” “When I had the healer prescribe calming draughts, you said they were bitter and refused to touch them.” “You were supposed to fight me on it.” I had almost forgotten that I used to be that alive. Cassian gave a cold laugh. “You agreed to become the Luna of Ravencroft.” “You enjoyed the status of the Alpha’s house and the respect of the pack, and now you act as though I’m the one who wronged you.” “A few days ago, Sable and I went to the pup shelter in the southern territory. She saw orphaned pups shivering in the cold and took off her leather jacket on the spot.” “She even said if she had the silverware and jewels in this estate, she would have sold them for food and medicine already.” “And you? You sit here in the estate and complain about your life.” For a second, guilt flashed across Sable’s face. After all, I had paid for the construction of that shelter. I simply had not appeared in person. I only nodded. “Of course.” Cassian abruptly stood. “I don’t want to look at you when you’re like this.” He took Sable and left. The moment the door closed, a violent pain tore through my abdomen. Blood slid down the hem of my skirt. Maeve burst into tears and ran to call the healer. The healer arrived quickly. After examining me, his face went white. “Luna, you’ve lost too much blood. The pup… the pup couldn’t be saved.” I nodded. “I know.” Maeve sobbed, “Should I ask the Alpha to come?” I shook my head. “No need.” Ten years. This was my first pup. And the last thread tying me to the Ravencroft estate. Now it was gone. Good.

On the third day after the miscarriage, Cassian came to the estate. Several attendants followed behind him, carrying trays of jewelry, gowns, and a saddle. I recognized some of them. The black pearl brooch had been pinned on me by the old Luna of Ravencroft herself on the day I married into the pack. The dark red cashmere shawl had been draped over my shoulders by Cassian on my birthday. And the saddle had once belonged to my favorite chestnut horse. Before I married into Ravencroft, I used to ride her along the forest roads near Moonridge for hours. Later, Cassian said the Luna of Ravencroft ought to be dignified and should not always be thinking about leaving the territory alone. Soon after, the stable keys were no longer given to me. Cassian glanced at me. His tone was unusually gentle. “Sable is moving into the estate in a few days. Give these things to her first.” I nodded. “Fine.” “She’s used to being free outside. A lot of things here won’t suit her.” “Fine.” “She likes that horse.” “Fine.” He stared at me for a long time, then suddenly laughed. “And Sable has agreed. She’s willing to officially remain by my side as one of my mates.” I nodded. “Congratulations.” Cassian seemed to be waiting for me to lose my temper. Waiting for me to demand answers. Waiting for me to sweep every tray in front of me onto the floor. But I only said calmly, “Then soon, the entire North will know how important she is to you.” The amusement in his eyes faded. At last, he said only, “Take care of yourself.” After he left, two attendants whispered in the corridor. “Miss Ashcroft really is something. For her, the Alpha doesn’t even care about the old pack rules anymore.” “I heard he’s holding a grand mate celebration for her at the private estate in Moonridge. After that day, who would still dare call her a secret lover?” The other attendant lowered her voice. “Come to think of it, Luna used to love going out too.” “But after the bond ceremony, the Alpha kept saying she didn’t act like the Luna of Ravencroft and wouldn’t let her go anywhere.” She paused. “Now Miss Ashcroft does the same things, and he thinks it’s charming.” I lay with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling. The celebration would be at Moonridge. Not at the Ravencroft estate. That meant that on that day, I would finally have a chance to leave. I called Maeve over. “On the day of the celebration, prepare clothes I can move in.” Maeve’s eyes reddened. “Is Luna finally going to fight for herself?” I nodded. “Yes.” Let them think that. I did not want Cassian to turn back to me. I wanted to vanish from this estate that day. And from Cassian’s world. A maid was rechecking the measurements for my dress when Cassian walked in. He came to my side and suddenly reached out to smooth my sleeve. “This color suits you.” Footsteps sounded outside the door. Sable stood at the entrance. Her gaze swept across the room before settling back on me. She smiled. “The Ravencroft estate really is lovely. Cassian said I can choose my own room.” She laughed lightly. “I don’t really like the other rooms.” “Only Lenora’s feels comfortable enough.” The maid’s expression changed slightly. Sable seemed to realize only then that she had spoken out of turn. She turned to Cassian. “I didn’t mean to take anything from Lenora.” “Forget I said anything. I can sleep in the stables if that makes everyone happier.” Cassian was silent for a moment before looking at me. “Lenora, Sable won’t be staying at the estate often. Why don’t you…” I smiled faintly. “Fine.” “She can have the room.” Both of them froze. I lowered my head and finished straightening my sleeve. “After the celebration, I’ll move out.” I was leaving anyway. This room no longer mattered.

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In the seventh year of our long-distance relationship, I resigned from my post in the dock district and returned to Chicago, moving back into the estate Damian and I had agreed would be our marital home. I entered the password three times. All three times, it was wrong. On the fourth try, the door opened from the inside. The person who opened it was my best friend, Bianca. She was wearing Damian’s shirt, the hem barely covering the tops of her thighs. She smiled at me naturally. “Valentina, you’re back?” “I had a fight with the person I was living with, so I’ve been staying at your fiance’s estate lately.” Hearing her voice, Damian came out of the bathroom. His upper body was bare, and the only thing covering him was a pink towel wrapped loosely around his waist. He said, “Don’t block the doorway.” “The master bedroom is already Bianca’s. You can sleep in the guest room tonight.” His face was full of impatience, but that familiar inner voice sounded again. [We’ve been separated between two cities for so long. Have you fallen for someone else?] [Valentina, hurry up and say this is our home. Tell her she isn’t allowed to stay.] [Make a scene. Let me know you still care about me.] For seven years, he had always been like this. If I replied to a message late, he would ask Bianca to meet him at the dockside bar. If I spent one less night with him, he would let Bianca stay over. In the past, I would question him. I would cry. I would make a scene exactly the way his inner voice wanted me to. But this time, I looked at the pink towel around his waist. Then at the women’s underwear hanging on the balcony. Suddenly, I didn’t want to ask anything anymore. I took a step back, pulled up the handle of my suitcase, and left. I would not live in a three-person estate. … Bianca reached out and grabbed my suitcase. “Valentina, it’s only that you couldn’t open the door. Are you really angry?” “Don’t overthink it. I couldn’t remember the old password, so Damian changed it to my birthday.” Damian gave a soft scoff. “She’s just being dramatic. It’s just a string of numbers. What’s the big deal about changing it?” His expression was disdainful, but his inner voice grew more frantic by the second. [Say something. Say that was the day we got engaged. Say I wasn’t allowed to change it.] [Valentina, why aren’t you reacting at all?] I said nothing. Bianca leaned against the doorframe and yawned. “Aren’t you coming in? We’re going to sleep.” I took out my key and placed it beside the door. “No. You two sleep.” Damian froze for a moment. “If you’re not coming in, then get lost!” He slammed the door shut. I stumbled back a step. My bag fell to the ground, and a stack of old train tickets slid out. The one on top was dated seven years ago. That was the day I had been assigned to the dock district, and Damian had seen me off at the station. The boarding reminder sounded three times before he finally let go of my hand. “Valentina, go. Don’t look back.” He said it lightly. But in that instant, I heard his inner voice for the first time. [Valentina, I can’t bear to let you go.] [But I can’t stop you.] [I love you. You have to wait for me.] My hand froze over my ticket, and tears rushed to my eyes. After we were separated between two cities, I took that five-hour night train again and again. Even when I had to settle cargo-line accounts until dawn, I would still rush back to see him. Until that one time, after staying awake for two nights in a row, I collapsed at the dock office and missed the train to see him. When I woke up in a private clinic, the first thing I did was call him. On the seventh call, he finally picked up. “I’m helping Bianca deal with something at the bar.” His tone was colder than I had ever heard it. “Why are you crying? If you’re too busy, am I not even allowed to go to her?” “Isn’t she your best friend? With her watching me for you, what are you worried about?” That night, Bianca posted three updates. An Italian restaurant, a bar, and the street at three in the morning. Meanwhile, I lay alone in a private clinic, hooked up to fluids all night. My tears fell onto the train ticket. I reached out to wipe them away, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get it clean. The door opened again. “If you can’t bear to leave, get in here.” When Damian saw my tears, his expression softened a little. “How many days are you back for this time?” I didn’t tell him I had already resigned from my post in the dock district. There was no need. I had given up everything in the dock district just to end this seven-year relationship stretched across two cities. But he and Bianca had already started living together. Bianca came out of the bathroom with a towel. Naturally, she began drying his hair for him. Damian did not dodge. He even lowered his head. His inner voice said he loved me. But he had long since grown used to Bianca’s company. There was no place for me in this home anymore. The stack of train tickets was still scattered on the floor. I did not pick them up. I walked straight toward the elevator. Damian gave a cold laugh. “Valentina Rossi, if you walk out of here today, our engagement is over.” I pressed the elevator button without looking back. His inner voice erupted in panic. [Valentina, don’t go. I only wanted to see you jealous.] [If you turn back, I’ll coax you.] The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside. [Please, don’t go.] I heard it. But this time, I did not stop. The elevator doors slowly closed, blocking out his face and cutting off his inner voice. Just then, my phone rang. “Valentina Rossi, the seat at the Northern Commission is still being held for you. Have you thought it through?” I wiped away my tears and cleared my throat. “Vincent Romano, I’ll report in tomorrow.”

I spent the night at an inn. Early the next morning, I was awakened by a call from the estate steward. “Miss Rossi, the suitcases you sent are piled up at the entrance of the estate. People in the neighborhood have already complained. Please deal with them as soon as possible.” When I came back this time, I had not planned to leave again. I had packed up seven years’ worth of belongings and sent them here in advance. Now my things had arrived. But just like me, they no longer had a home. I rushed to the estate through the rain. There was nothing downstairs. Bianca, wearing slippers, was about to head upstairs. “Valentina, why are you only here now?” “Those boxes were blocking the entrance. They were such a nuisance.” She pointed toward the trash area. “Damian said the two of you had already ended your engagement. Your things were all garbage, so I threw them away for you.” My ears rang. I turned and ran toward the trash area. The cardboard boxes were soaked soft. My belongings were scattered all over the ground, mixed into dirty rainwater. I knelt down and finally found my little dog plush. It had swollen from the rain, and one of its eyes had fallen off. It was the first gift Damian had ever given me. During those seven years, whenever he couldn’t come to me, it was the thing that stayed with me. Last year, when I fractured a bone in a car accident, he had originally booked a flight to see me. But Bianca sprained her ankle. On the phone, he had only said hurriedly, “I’ll come see you after she’s better.” I was in so much pain I couldn’t sleep. I could only hold that little dog until dawn. I picked it up and held it to my chest. Then I saw the broken high heel beside it. I had bought those shoes half a year ago. That day, my plan had been deliberately deleted by someone, and I had hidden in the garden downstairs from the dock office, crying until I could barely breathe. Damian’s phone would not connect. It was not until dawn that he finally called me back. “What happened on your side this time?” “Bianca had a fight with the person she was living with. I just brought her back to the estate.” The next day, I went to a shop in the neighborhood and bought those heels. I told myself, Valentina Rossi, stand steady. If no one comes to take you back to the estate, then walk back yourself. For seven years, I traveled between two cities and lived alone. These things had kept me going until today. Now, all of them had been thrown into the trash. “Bianca, what right did you have to throw away my things?” Damian’s voice came from behind me. “Valentina, why are you yelling at her?” He stood in front of Bianca, holding an umbrella over her. “It’s just a few boxes of junk. So what if she threw them away?” Bianca looked at me and burst into tears. “I thought you didn’t want them anymore.” Seeing the mess all over the ground, Damian’s expression darkened further. But his inner voice slammed into me. [Why are there so many boxes?] [Wasn’t Valentina only coming back for a few days?] [That little dog… she still kept it?] His gaze fell on the plush dog in my arms. But the words he spoke were still full of disgust. “Our engagement is over, and you’re still sending your things to my home. If your things aren’t garbage, what are they?” I held the little dog tightly and looked up at him. “Damian, my things are not garbage.” “You are.” Rain blurred my vision. More and more people gathered to watch. A few people from the neighborhood whispered among themselves. “Aren’t those the young couple upstairs?” “They’ve been living together for half a year, right? I often see them grocery shopping together.” Someone looked at me, their voice full of contempt. “Then who is she? An ex-girlfriend here to make trouble?” “Don’t tell me she’s trying to ruin their marriage. Getting kicked out and then digging through trash? How ugly.” My already numb heart twisted in pain again. So they had been living together for half a year. For those six months, they had bought groceries together, returned to the estate together, shared umbrellas together, and appeared to everyone in the neighborhood like a loving couple. And I, who had been openly and honestly in love with him for seven years, had become the mistress making a scene.

Damian’s expression looked awful, but he did not explain. Bianca gently tugged at his sleeve. “Damian, let’s go upstairs.” He was silent for a few seconds. Then he held the umbrella for her and led her through the building entrance. I stood in the rain, watching them walk farther and farther away. His inner voice grew quieter and quieter. [Valentina isn’t a mistress.] [She’s the person I love most.] I stopped listening. The rain grew heavier. I crouched beside the trash cans again. I opened the soaked cardboard boxes, searching for the old pocket watch my grandmother had left me. But after searching every box, I still could not find it. I had been drenched in the rain for too long. My vision suddenly went black. When I woke up again, I was lying in a somewhat unfamiliar guest room. Bianca sat at the bedside, her eyes red from crying. “Valentina, you fainted just now.” “I asked Damian to carry you up.” She tucked the blanket around me. “Don’t take what the people in the neighborhood said to heart. I already explained it to them.” “I told them you weren’t here to interfere with our marriage.” “We’re friends. This time, you wanted to move in and live with me.” “It’s just that the estate belongs to Damian, and he is my fiance now. That’s why there was a misunderstanding.” She spoke with such apparent sincerity, as if she truly were helping me out of an awkward situation. But I remembered our university days. My poverty grant had been stolen by someone else, and Bianca had gone with me to confront the counselor. “I hate bitches who steal other people’s things and then pretend they’re innocent!” Back then, she had been even angrier than I was. But now, when she called Damian her fiance, she wore that same innocent expression. In the past, Bianca had looked down on Damian. Whenever she mentioned him, she would curse him by his full name. But at some point, she began calling him Damian. She began wearing his coat. She began eating with him and traveling with him alone. It wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed she was crossing boundaries. But she was my best friend. And Damian always said I was overthinking. His inner voice had sounded again and again. [Valentina, I only love you.] So again and again, I forced myself to suppress the discomfort in my heart. But now, I no longer wanted to pretend I couldn’t see it. “Bianca, stop acting.” I pushed myself up by the edge of the bed. “Where is my pass?” I had to report to the Northern Commission headquarters today. But the copies of the documents I needed had all been ruined by the rain. I had once treated this place as my home, so I had kept the original important documents here. Bianca froze for a moment. “I don’t know. Why don’t you look for it?” I ignored her, threw back the blanket, and got out of bed. The master bedroom was now her room. Yet several of Damian’s shirts hung in the closet. My clothes had been shoved into the farthest corner, wrinkled beyond recognition. Bianca followed behind me and explained in a small voice. “Sometimes when he drinks too much, he sleeps in my room.” I did not want to know what they had done here. I only wanted to find my pass. But when I opened the bedside drawer, there was no document folder inside. Only three boxes of contraceptives. One box fewer than the last time I had returned to the estate. My hand froze. I forced myself to look away. On the small table beside the bed, there was still an uncleaned food container. Bianca seemed to remember only then and let out a small gasp. “Valentina, is this the pass you’re looking for?” She moved aside the plastic food container. Under it was my graduation pass, its cover already covered in oil. Bianca bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I was eating in the room last night and saw that it was stiff, so I used it to pad the food box.” I snatched it up and opened the cover. The pages were soaked through with red oil. Even the embossed seal gave off a sharp, unpleasant smell. “Valentina, don’t be ungrateful!” Damian strode in and stood in front of Bianca.

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After my family discovered that I had faked my death, I stopped fighting back. Tiffany laughed at me for failing to stay dead. She said I would have to spend the rest of my life watching everyone love her, then asked why I had not cried myself blind with jealousy. So I snapped a branch from the tree beside me and drove it into my left eye. My family screamed and rushed to restrain me. They barely managed to save the other eye. They had only just left to fetch medicine when my second brother, Sean, stormed into my room. “You’ve been back for less than a day, and you’ve already made Tiffany cry.” His mouth twisted with disgust. “I wish both your legs were broken. Then maybe you’d stay in this room where you belong.” I climbed onto the windowsill and let go. The impact shattered my leg. A jagged piece of bone tore through the skin, and blood spread beneath me. Sean went white. That night, at dinner, Tiffany was still upset. She secretly poisoned her own food, then collapsed at the feet of my eldest brother, Gerald, the cold-blooded Alpha. Gerald flew into a rage. He grabbed a knife and came for me, as if killing me would rid the family of its curse. I did not wait for him. I lowered my head and ate Tiffany’s food. It did not take long before blood ran from the corner of my mouth. My family broke down. They forced me to spit out the poisoned food, then pulled me into their arms. By the time they asked what had happened to me, their voices were already hoarse. I looked at them, confused. Hadn’t they all said I was petty? Hadn’t they accused me of being jealous of Tiffany? Now I was being obedient. I did whatever they told me to do. So what were they still unhappy about? … Tears streamed down Anne’s cheeks. My mother raised a shaking hand and smoothed the stray hair at my temple. “Harriet, I know I was wrong. I won’t hit you again. I won’t scold you like I used to. Can’t you go back to the way you were?” There was a faint hope in her expression. I felt nothing. “Is it because I’m blind now? Because I’m not as pretty as I used to be?” Her lips parted, but no words came out. Sean leaned against the door and gave a short, bitter laugh. “Enough. You’ve done all this, and now you think hurting yourself will make it go away?” I lowered my gaze and pretended not to hear him. Tiffany had always known how to hide what she was. Even after I had been driven to fake my death and disappear for two years, they still believed everything had been my fault. But the truth no longer mattered to me. Gerald’s fingers clamped around my arm. He dragged me across the room and threw me in front of Tiffany. “Apologize to her.” The knife was still in his hand. If I refused, he looked ready to use it. I sat quietly on the floor as if I did not see the blade at all. Tiffany covered her eyes and shrank into Sean’s arms. She looked terrified, but the corner of her mouth lifted. The knife was about to come down when Anne threw herself in front of me. The blade cut deep into her arm. Blood poured out at once. “Why?” Anne looked at me as if I were tearing her apart. “We’re trying to be fair. If you want something, say it. Does Tiffany have to die before you’ll be satisfied?” I stared at her for a moment, then shook my head. “Tiffany won’t die.” The fire from two years ago rose in my memory. I remembered my skin burning. I remembered the air thinning in my lungs, every breath turning sharp and useless. Gerald and Sean had passed in front of me again and again. Neither of them looked at me. They searched for Tiffany in a panic. The moment the family found her, they carried her out without hesitation. They could not bear to lose Tiffany. But they could abandon me, their biological daughter. So if someone had to die, it would always be me. Their beloved Tiffany would never die. With them protecting her, she might never even be hurt. Anne’s hands slipped from my shoulders. All her strength seemed to leave her at once. The room went silent. Then Tiffany began to cry. She looked at me with that same helpless, wounded expression she had always used so well. “Sean already gave me the antidote. I’m fine now. Harriet was only joking with me, right?” I had just lifted my head when she took Elton’s arm and leaned against him like a child begging for a treat. “Harriet didn’t mean it. We’re getting along much better now. She still can’t shift, but she’s the Alpha’s sister. She should come to the academy with me. Please let her.” Before my first shift, Tiffany had poisoned me with silver. I failed to shift and fell seriously ill. Elton was bitterly disappointed. After that, he cared even more for Tiffany, who had shifted successfully, and refused to let me attend the academy. He said I would only embarrass the family. I had begged him countless times. It had never mattered. Now my father looked at me closely, as if afraid to miss even the smallest change in my expression. When I stayed calm, his voice softened in a way that almost sounded careful. “Harriet, do you want to go?” Before I could answer, Gerald spoke. “She’s back, and she’s learned to behave. Starting tomorrow, she’ll go with Tiffany. Even if she can’t shift, at least no one can laugh at her for knowing nothing.” He looked at Anne, who was still shielding me, then put the knife away and left. I closed my mouth. There was nothing more to say.

For the next two days, I went to the Werewolf Academy. Anne worried my body could not handle it, so after every meal she prepared a medicinal soup for me. I never drank a single bowl. Each time, Tiffany poured it away. After she emptied the bowl again, she looked down at me with open contempt. “Don’t think Anne actually cares. She feels guilty, that’s all. If she really cared, why hasn’t she noticed any of those wounds on you?” My legs were ruined. One of my eyes was blind. The moment I entered the academy, people stared. At Tiffany’s command, they found ways to make my life difficult. Some mocked me. Some shoved me. Some struck me when no one important was watching. New wounds layered over old ones. But when I went home, no one noticed. Tiffany, on the other hand, scratched her hand by accident, and Anne acted as if the sky had fallen. She summoned the family doctor at once. The others came running too. They crowded around that tiny cut, so shallow it would have healed if they had arrived any later, and worried over it like she was dying. Tiffany smiled as if the memory amused her. “You’re not me, Harriet. Maybe your wounds will heal before anyone even finds out you were hurt.” Then she left my room. She had not expected Gerald to be the first to notice. “Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked, frowning. “Were you planning to injure yourself and blame Tiffany?” I laughed softly and pulled my sleeve over the wounds. Without Tiffany’s permission, who would dare leave marks on the Alpha’s biological sister? Who would dare touch me? When I was first brought home, Tiffany had slapped me across the face the moment we met. I told my family the truth. They said I was jealous. They said I was scheming. They believed her without hesitation. It happened so many times that I stopped counting. At first, I had still hoped someone would stand beside me. Now I felt nothing. “Gerald, did you need something?” When I offered no explanation, he seemed relieved. He handed me a small plate. “Elton bought cake. This piece is yours.” They were all flavors I used to love. But I could no longer taste the sweetness. My mouth was full of bitterness. I was halfway through the cake when Anne came in with the doctor. Her eyes were wet as she looked at the wounds covering my arm. “Harriet, this must hurt so much.” Her voice broke. “This is my fault. I let you suffer like this. And you didn’t even tell us.” She dressed my wounds herself. After that, she stayed beside my bed for every meal. When Elton found out, he was furious. Every student who had bullied me was punished a hundred times over. I had no strength left to react. “Thank you, Elton.” That was all I said. Elton’s expression dimmed. Anne stood beside him, lost and uncertain. Guilt made them shower me with attention. Anything good was brought to me first. If I coughed twice at night, more than a dozen private doctors appeared the next morning. If I rubbed my eye after seeing Tiffany, they warned her not to come near me and upset me. Even Sean was punished when he came to make trouble for Tiffany’s sake. But my body was getting weaker, and nothing they did stirred much in me. On my birthday, they tried to make me happy. For the first time, they left Tiffany behind and held a birthday banquet for me alone at the most luxurious hotel in New York. At last, Elton lost control. He smashed his wineglass and pointed at me. “How long are you going to keep looking at us like that?” Anne’s restraint snapped too. “Tiffany hasn’t done anything wrong! You’re the one who won’t let it go. You’ve torn this family apart!” “If I had known this was how you’d turn out, I never would have brought you home when you were six. This family only needed Tiffany.”

My hand stopped. For a moment, my chest ached. Strange. I thought I had stopped caring. “Don’t worry,” I said. “Soon you’ll only have Tiffany.” Sean laughed and tossed down his fork. “Tiffany’s alone. I’m going to her.” The air in the room pressed down on me. One by one, they left. I remained at the table, surrounded by untouched dishes and the quiet laughter of the guests. The food went cold. The candles burned low. Wax dripped onto the cake, melting into the cream and leaving a pale trail behind. I sat there all night. By the time someone came to pick me up the next morning, my body was cold and stiff. My limbs felt as if they no longer belonged to me. The car window rolled down. Tiffany smiled at me. “How was it, Harriet? Sitting there alone all night?” I was too tired to answer. I climbed into the car and closed my eyes. When we were almost at the villa, Tiffany opened the door and threw herself out. She rolled across the ground and slammed into the stone steps, making it look as if someone had pushed her. A scream tore from her throat. Everyone waiting outside the villa turned toward us. Sean ran to Tiffany and dropped beside her. “Was it Harriet? Did she push you?” Gerald dragged me out of the car. Before I could speak, Anne slapped me across the face. She was breathing hard. Regret and hatred twisted together in her expression. “I don’t have a daughter like you. You wanted to fake your death and leave us, didn’t you? Then go. Get out right now.” “Get out!” My belongings were thrown after me. Anne ordered the villa gates shut and would not look at me again. Still, that was not enough. Gerald’s expression was grim. He personally took men with him and sent me to the dark prison where werewolf rebels were held. They threw me onto a filthy pile of bloodstained straw. Elton appeared outside the cell. Disgust sharpened his voice. “Tiffany went out of kindness to bring you home, and this is how you repay her? You ungrateful thing.” I looked at him without speaking. My body hurt more with every breath, but I had long since stopped wasting words. His temper rose when I stayed silent. “What happened to all your excuses? Two years ago, every time you hurt Tiffany, you had so much to say. You denied it, argued, blamed everyone else. Why are you quiet now?” “All because of what happened two years ago, you’ve been punishing us and punishing yourself. Why? Can’t we leave it behind and start over?” I went still. My thoughts drifted back. Two years ago, the bracelet Anne had obtained to protect Tiffany went missing. After that, Tiffany became ill. Every few days, she coughed up blood. Elton sent every available hand in the pack to search the territory. Half a month later, they found out a group of rogue wolves had picked it up. The rogues did not want money. They did not want power. They wanted me to serve them for half a month. Because I could not shift, they said I belonged at the bottom of the pack, just like them. Everyone was shocked. At that time, I had only recently been brought home. No one thought my family would agree. But they held my hands and pleaded with me. “Harriet, go for half a month. Once they give the bracelet back, Gerald will take men there, destroy their den, and bring you home.” “They’re watching us. If we don’t do what they say, they’ll destroy the bracelet. What will Tiffany do then? She needs it to live. I’m begging you. Save her.” Anne nearly knelt in front of me. I cried until I passed out. When I opened my eyes again, several rogue wolves were leaning over me, grinning. I screamed. Gerald and Sean had not gone far. They heard me. I saw them stop. Their fists clenched. For a long time, they stood there without moving. Neither of them turned back. That night, I ran and hid until I slipped from a cliff. I thought I was dead, but a tree caught me. When the rogue leader could not find me, he smashed the bracelet in anger. After I woke, I wanted only to get away. So I faked my death and left. But they found me and dragged me home. The day after they heard I had “died,” Tiffany recovered. Looking back, perhaps she had only needed me gone. Once no one was left to compete with her, she was well again. “Tiffany has suffered enough because of you,” Elton said. “This time, we won’t let you off. If you still won’t change, you can stay here forever.” He left. I lowered my head. Because I knew the truth. I did not have forever. The last doctor who examined me had already told me. This time, I really was going to die. They should be satisfied now.

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