Category: English

Just because of one word from his little assistant, the entire company’s team-building event was changed to an extreme Via Ferrata cliff-climbing course. But I was eight months pregnant. I had just started bleeding, and the doctor had strictly ordered me to stay in bed to save my baby. I held my husband Marcus’s hand, begging him to let me stay at the hotel instead of climbing. Before Marcus could even speak, his assistant, Chloe, smiled and cut in: “Sera, you’re not looking down on us, are you? It’s just a team-building event, but you refuse to join. Do you always have to be so special?” “It’s just climbing a cliff. It’s not like we’re asking you to give birth right there.” The conference room burst into laughter. Marcus’s face darkened. “If everyone else can go, why can’t you?” Furious, I yelled back at him, “I am carrying your child! Do you want me to risk his life just to show off for your company?” Stunned by my outburst, he quickly changed his tune, telling me I could just rest at the hotel. But the next morning, when I opened my eyes, I found myself tied to a sheer cliff face. Looking down, there was only a bottomless abyss. The safety rope on my harness was just a flimsy, single-line cord. As I reached for my phone to call for help, Chloe’s voice drifted down from right above me: “Hang in there, Sera! Marcus personally chose the safest route for you. No one else even got the chance! Don’t let his hard work go to waste!” Looking at the helicopter hovering in the sky above, I was about to scream curses at them. But what Marcus said next made my blood run dead cold. “Sera, stop using the baby in your belly to threaten me. Because that bastard isn’t even mine.”

I thought I had heard him wrong. “What did you just say?” I stared at the helicopter hovering in mid-air, my voice shattered by the howling wind. Marcus held a megaphone, a vicious, cold sneer plastered across his face. “Are you deaf? I said the bastard in your womb isn’t mine!” “Ever since I met Chloe, I haven’t touched you once in the past year!” My brain exploded. Memories of the dark nights over the past year flashed through my mind. Marcus always lit a strange, fragrant incense in the bedroom. He always blindfolded me with a black cloth, claiming it was to add some excitement to our marriage. And I, like an idiot, actually believed his lies! “You sick bastards!” I screamed with every ounce of strength left in my lungs. Chloe leaned half her body out of the helicopter, holding a megaphone and laughing hysterically. “Don’t be so angry, Sera. The old man’s will has already been signed anyway.” “Marcus has officially inherited the family fortune now. You and that bastard in your belly are completely useless to us.” With that, she threw a plastic water bottle right at me. The bottle slammed hard against my forehead, making my vision spin with bright stars. I gripped the rusted iron rungs on the cliff face, the agonizing pain in my abdomen ripping through me in waves. Warm blood had already soaked through my hiking pants, dripping down my legs. “Marcus, I was your wife for three years!” I screamed in utter despair. “Even if you want a divorce, you don’t have to kill me!” Marcus looked down at me with nothing but disgust and sheer hatred. “If you don’t die, how am I supposed to collect the $80 million accidental death insurance policy?” “Besides, Chloe is pregnant now. We need to clear away any obstacles for our true love.” I froze, staring in shock at Chloe’s slightly bloated belly. My heart died completely. This was the man for whom I had abandoned my career and my family. He was a heartless, greedy piece of trash who had absolutely no limits! Just then, a few colleagues from the company climbed up from the route below. Each of them was equipped with heavy-duty double safety ropes and professional helmets. “Oh, look, isn’t that Sera?” Leo from the sales department yelled. “Why is her pants covered in blood? Did she wet herself on the cliff?” Ross, the HR manager, gripped the rock with one hand and laughed out loud. “Wetting herself? No way. She probably splashed fake blood on herself to play the victim!” “Don’t you see the boss watching from the helicopter? She’s definitely putting on a show to get sympathy.” Another female colleague pulled out her phone and aimed it straight at me. “Sera, smile for the camera! Let everyone see how you’re dragging the team down.” Enduring the agonizing spasms in my abdomen, I screamed to them for help. “Help me! My safety rope is only a single line! It’s about to snap!” “My baby… I’m losing my baby! I’m having a miscarriage!”

Manager Ross rolled his eyes dramatically. “Just shut up already. Chloe already warned us about you.” “She said you hired a prop master to make a fake blood pack just to ruin our team-building trip.” “We’re not falling for your tricks!” One by one, they climbed right past me, stepping ruthlessly on the iron rungs right next to my fingers. Leo even went out of his way to kick my ankle with his heavy hiking boot. My foot slipped. My entire body weight slammed instantly onto that single, flimsy safety rope. Rrrriiiip. A terrifying tearing sound echoed from the harness around my waist. The cheap safety rope had ripped one-third of the way through! My body plummeted violently, leaving me dangling in the empty air against the sheer cliff face. Directly beneath me was a bottomless abyss filled with sharp, jagged rocks. “Ah!” I shrieked in absolute terror. The blood from my thighs flowed faster now, dripping directly onto Leo’s face below. Leo wiped his face in disgust, cursing under his breath. “Gross! This fake blood smells so real. You really spent a fortune on this, didn’t you?” He didn’t lift a finger to help me. Instead, he climbed up even faster to get away. Up on the helicopter, Chloe clapped her hands in excitement. “Wow! Bungee jumping! Marcus, look! Sera is about to do a rope-free bungee jump!” Marcus sneered and picked up the megaphone again. “Sera, if you jump down now, I’ll be nice enough to buy you a high-end grave.” “But if you keep wasting everyone’s time like this, I’ll dump your ashes straight into the sewer.” The pain in my abdomen was so intense that I was on the verge of losing consciousness. I could feel it clearly—the baby I had tried so hard to protect for eight months was dying inside me. Using the last bit of my strength, I raised my left hand and pressed a hidden red button on the side of my smartwatch. It was a military-grade emergency channel my brother had personally set up for me three years ago. “Tristan…” I whispered weakly into the watch. “Lock down the airspace. Immediately.” “I’m dying. Make all of them pay with their lives.” Chloe saw my movement through her binoculars and laughed so hard she cried. “Marcus, look at her! She’s talking to a stupid watch! Has she gone completely insane from fear?” Marcus’s face was filled with mockery. “She’s always been crazy. Her whole family is just a bunch of penniless nobodies from some backwater town.” “Who is she even calling for help? The mayor of her little village?” Hysterical laughter erupted from the helicopter cabin. The walkie-talkies of the colleagues on the cliff broadcasted Marcus’s mockery in real-time. Everyone on the cliff was laughing at me. “She thought she hit the jackpot by marrying the boss, acting so high and mighty in the office.” “Now karma’s finally catching up to her. She deserves it!” I bit my lower lip hard, completely ignoring their venomous insults. Only I knew the truth about my family. My grandfather was a highly respected four-star General. My father was a Wall Street billionaire tycoon. And my brother was the Commander of the Joint Special Operations Command. Three years ago, for the sake of what I thought was true love, I hid my identity and married Marcus. I didn’t hesitate to cut ties with my family, enduring endless hardships during these three years. Now, I finally saw this devil’s den for what it truly was!

“What’s the point of calling your town mayor?” Chloe was practically falling over laughing inside the helicopter. She pointed at the military smartwatch on my wrist. “Which flea market did you buy that second-hand trash from?” “Do you really think there’s cell service out here in the mountains to call your little helpers?” Marcus bellowed through the megaphone in agreement. “Sera, even your bluffing is pathetic.” “Is that brother of yours still carrying bricks at some construction site?” “If he actually shows up to save you today, I’ll jump out of this helicopter myself!” The helicopter’s massive rotors whipped up violent gusts of wind. The wind tangled my hair across my face. My face was covered in cold sweat and tears of despair. I stared cold-hard at the man in the designer suit hovering in the air. That $10,000 custom suit he was wearing was bought with my own secret savings. I remembered a rainy night three years ago. Marcus had knelt outside my apartment door, completely stripped of his dignity. Soaked to the bone, he clung to my legs and swore an oath. “Sera, I might be poor right now, but I swear I will never let you suffer. Not even a little bit.” “If anyone dares to touch a single hair on your head, I’ll fight them to the death!” “I am going to make you the happiest woman in the world!” Those were his exact words. And for those cheap, worthless promises, I had blocked my entire family’s contact numbers without hesitation. I willingly lived in a damp, dark basement with him, eating the cheapest instant noodles. I stayed up all night writing business proposals for him, bringing him clients and resources. In just three years, I dragged him up from a low-level salesman to the CEO of his own company. But everything changed six months ago when Chloe joined the company. Chloe drove a luxury car to work. She flaunted her new designer bags every single day. She dropped constant hints to everyone that she was the daughter of a wealthy tycoon. Marcus’s eyes grew greedier every time he looked at her. He started finding excuses to stay out all night. He began complaining that I didn’t know how to dress, mocking me for smelling like a “poor nobody.” I thought he was just letting his fast success get to his head. I never imagined he had already hopped into bed with Chloe, let alone that they were plotting my death! “Marcus! What did I ever do to deserve this?!” I screamed into the sky with everything I had. “I suffered with you! I built your company with you!” “Why do you have to kill me in such a cruel way?!” Hearing my accusation, Marcus’s face turned incredibly dark. He sneered in disgust from the helicopter. “You helped me build the company?” “You’re a penniless girl who couldn’t even afford college tuition! What could you possibly do to help me?” “If Chloe’s father hadn’t promised to invest $50 million in my company, I would have been dragged down by you for the rest of my life!” Chloe proudly stroked her slightly rounded belly. She looked down at me with supreme contempt. “Sera, you need to know your place.” “Marcus is a multi-millionaire CEO now. You don’t belong in his world.” “Only the noble bloodline in my belly is fit to inherit the Vance family fortune.” I felt my stomach churn violently. Blood was still dripping down my legs. My inner thighs were completely numb. The eight-month-old baby in my womb had gone completely still. It was the little life I had cherished and looked forward to for eight long months. Now, it was just a cold, lifeless soul. Seeing that I had stopped struggling, the colleagues below climbed up even more aggressively. Ross, the HR manager, pulled out a crumpled document. Holding onto his safety rope with one hand, he slapped the document hard against my leg. “Sera, stop being so stubborn.” “The boss just said that if you sign over all your founder shares in the company for free,” “He’ll show some mercy and let the rescue team pull you up.” I looked down at the stock transfer agreement covered in my own blood. Finally, I understood Marcus’s entire master plan. Not only did he want to steal my $80 million insurance money. He wanted to completely swallow the very company I had secretly built for him from the ground up!

“In your dreams!” I spat, biting my lip so hard that blood sprayed onto the paper. “I would rather die than let you disgusting parasites get a single penny!” Marcus completely lost his patience. He shoved the pilot aside and grabbed the helicopter’s controls. The helicopter suddenly dipped, diving dangerously close to the cliff where I hung. The massive downdraft from the rotors instantly created a violent storm. The single safety line holding me began to rip apart under the immense strain. “Since you want to play the hero, then go die with your worthless pride!” Marcus roared through the megaphone. “Leo! Help our dear Director Sera on her way!” “Once it’s done, the Vice President position is yours!” Hearing those words, Leo’s eyes lit up with absolute greed. Without a second thought, he unclipped his backup safety hook. Using the iron rungs, he climbed rapidly until he was directly beneath me. He reached up and grabbed my dangling right foot with both hands. “Sorry, Sera!” Leo screamed, his face twisted in a monstrous grin. “But you’re standing in the way of my promotion! Just drop already!” He pulled down on my leg with all his might. My body was yanked violently downward by the force. At last, the safety rope around my waist gave its final, sharp snap. Snap! The cheap nylon rope broke completely in two. My body lost all support, plunging straight down toward the rocky abyss. “Ah!” I screamed as the sensation of weightlessness instantly swallowed me. But in the very next second of my rapid fall, My ten fingers clawed desperately at a sharp, protruding rock edge on the cliff. The massive force of my fall instantly tore the muscles in my shoulders. The agonizing pain of dislocating both shoulders almost made me black out. Below me was the endless, rocky void. I was hanging on by nothing but ten bloody fingers, clinging desperately to the edge of the cliff. “Oh my, this street dog just refuses to die!” Chloe shrieked in frustration from the helicopter. She turned around and grabbed a baseball bat from the cabin. “Marcus, get the helicopter closer!” “I want to knock her down myself!” Without hesitation, Marcus maneuvered the helicopter closer to me. The landing gear was almost touching the top of my head. Chloe leaned halfway out of the cabin. She raised the baseball bat, aiming straight at my hands gripping the rock. “In your next life, remember to keep your eyes open! Don’t touch things that don’t belong to you.” She brought the bat down hard onto my left hand. Crack! The skin on my left hand split instantly, exposing white bone underneath. My entire body convulsed in pure agony, leaving only my right hand to hold the entire weight of my body. A few meters above, Leo laughed mockingly. “Sera! Weren’t you always so capable at the office?” “Why don’t you call your little town mayor brother again?!” Manager Ross joined in on the mockery. “Her phone fell down the cliff. How is she going to call anyone?” “Maybe her brother is eating scraps under some bridge right now!” Before their laughter could fade, My smartwatch vibrated gently against my wrist. I looked up at the sky. Exactly one hundred and eighty seconds had passed since I pressed the emergency button. My brother had told me once: The moment I press that red button, The entire Special Operations Command would arrive, fully armed, within three minutes. Suddenly, a deep, deafening rumble echoed through the sky like thunder. Marcus looked up, confused. Chloe stopped swinging the bat. On the cliff, every single colleague looked up at the sky in unison. In the next second, the entire sky over the mountain range went dark. The sun was completely blocked out. Twenty pitch-black, heavy-duty military attack helicopters ripped through the clouds like a tidal wave of black steel! The terrifying downdraft from the military choppers sent Marcus’s small civilian helicopter spinning wildly out of control. “Ah! Help! The helicopter is going down!” Chloe screamed, dropping the baseball bat and clinging onto the co-pilot’s seat for dear life. Marcus fought the controls frantically, his face turning pale as a sheet. “What is going on?!” “Is there a military exercise here today?!” “Why wasn’t there any airspace restriction notice?!”

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My colleague, Audrey, waddled up to me, clutching her pregnant belly. “Chloe, can I crash at your place near the office for a few months? My commute from the suburbs is killing me with this pregnancy. I can’t take it anymore. I promise I’ll move out as soon as the baby is born.” I was just about to nod when a line of glowing text suddenly floated right in front of my eyes. [Don’t agree.] The next second, a flood of floating comments started scrolling across my vision. [The fetus in her womb has had no heartbeat for three days.] [The baby belongs to your boyfriend, Julian.] [Tonight, Audrey will ‘fall’ in your house. She’ll cry and claim that you found out the truth, went crazy with jealousy, and pushed her.] [At the exact same time, your home network will leak the secret bidding price for the company’s biggest project.] [You’ll be suspended, dragged on social media, held legally liable by the company, and branded by everyone as a monster who killed a pregnant woman’s baby and leaked trade secrets.] My blood ran ice-cold. Audrey was still waiting for my answer. I looked down at her slightly swollen belly. Then, I snapped my laptop shut. “Sorry, Audrey. I don’t rent out or lend my apartment.” 1 The conference room went dead silent. Audrey’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. “Did I make things difficult for you? I’m so sorry. I just thought if I lived closer, it would be easier for me to pull late nights and revise the project drafts.” Mark, the product manager sitting next to me, whispered, “Come on, Chloe, your apartment usually sits empty anyway.” Another colleague chimed in: “Yeah, it’s just for a few months. Audrey’s working so hard despite being pregnant. It’s not easy for her.” Ethan, our boss sitting at the head of the table, tapped his fingers against the desk. “Chloe, this project is in a critical phase. Supporting each other within the team is a good thing.” I looked up at him. “Ethan, if this involves an employee staying in another’s private residence, do we need to file a formal compliance report with HR?” Ethan frowned. “There’s no need to make it so complicated.” “Then it’s even more inappropriate.” I capped my pen. “My apartment is my private property, not a company resource. If Audrey needs to rent a place, she can apply for the company’s housing subsidy according to policy, and I’ll gladly sign off on it.” Audrey bit her lip, tears trembling on her eyelashes. “But finding a place on such short notice is so hard, and anything close to the office is way too expensive. Chloe, we’ve pulled so many all-nighters together. I thought we were friends.” As soon as she said that, the atmosphere in the room turned even more hostile. I didn’t let her emotions drag me in. “Even friends need boundaries.” Someone muttered under their breath, “So cold-hearted.” “She’s probably just afraid Audrey will take credit for the project.” “Being pregnant isn’t a crime. Why is she being so paranoid?” The floating comments scrolled past again. [She is gaslighting you and turning everyone against you.] [Don’t explain. The more you explain, the guiltier you’ll look.] [Julian will call you in ten minutes.] Less than ten minutes after the meeting adjourned, my phone buzzed. “Chloe, babe, I heard you turned Audrey down today?” I stood in the stairwell, looking out at the gray sky through the window. “You get news fast.” He chuckled on the other end of the line. “A lot of people in our two companies are old college classmates. They’re gossiping in the group chats. Don’t take it the wrong way, babe, I’m just worried people will misunderstand you.” “So?” “She’s pregnant. There’s no need to ruin your relationship with a colleague. It’s just a temporary stay. You can always make her sign an agreement.” The comments floated past coldly. [Look how sweet he sounds.] [He even remembers your spare keyless entry code.] [Just last week, he sent photos of your living room to Audrey.] My hand tightened around the phone. “Julian, do you even know Audrey?” There was a brief pause on the other line. “I’ve heard her name. We’re not close.” I let out a soft laugh. “Not close, huh?” “Of course. Chloe, are you just too tired lately? Don’t overthink people.” I hung up. I didn’t confront him. The comments were right. Exposing them now would only warn them to change their tactics. I went back to my desk and sent a WhatsApp message to Harper, our legal counsel. “Are you free tonight? I need help preserving some evidence.” She replied instantly. “What’s wrong?” I glanced over at Audrey, who was sitting not far away, wiping her tears. “Someone wants to borrow my apartment.” “And take my life while they’re at it.” 2 After work, I went straight to that apartment. Behind the front door, there was a very faint pencil mark. Next to it, written in shaky handwriting: “Chloe, twenty years old. Remember to come home even when you grow up.” That was the last height mark my dad made for me before he passed away. I stood at the doorway and stared at it for a long time. Then, I got to work. By the time Harper arrived with the notary public team, I had turned on every single light in the apartment. Living room, bedroom, study, kitchen, balcony, bathroom. Every corner was recorded on video. The lock cylinder, window latches, router, computer, bookshelves, and sealed drawers were all filmed clearly. Harper looked at me. “Who exactly are you protecting yourself against?” “A pregnant woman.” Her movements froze. “You can’t just say things like that.” “I know. That’s why I’m only keeping evidence.” In front of the notary public, I changed the admin password of my smart lock and deactivated all temporary access codes. The visitor code I had set for Julian was completely wiped. System prompt: Access revoked successfully. I took a screenshot and uploaded it to the cloud. Next, I factory-reset my old home router and had Marcus, our IT security lead, log in remotely. After hearing my request, Marcus fell silent for a long time. “Are you sure you want to completely wipe the real bidding documents from your personal devices?” “Positive.” “Then what do we leave on your home computer?” “A fake one.” “How fake?” “Fake enough to look real, but designed to track every single action once opened.” Marcus laughed. At 1:00 AM, Julian sent me a message. “Still busy, babe? I ordered some warm milk for you. I left it at your office front desk.” Right after, Audrey posted in the project WhatsApp group. “It was my fault today. I put Chloe in a difficult position. Please don’t blame her. I’ll just come to the office earlier tomorrow. Even if I live far away, I won’t let it affect our progress.” People in the group immediately began comforting her. “You’re already working so hard.” “Don’t cry, Audrey. Your health comes first.” “Some people get a promotion and immediately forget how hard it is for the rest of us.” I didn’t reply. The glowing text appeared again. [Do not touch the file envelope at the front desk.] [There’s a USB drive inside. Once plugged into your computer, it will install remote control malware.] I looked at my phone. The receptionist had just texted me: “Hey Chloe, someone left some midnight snacks and a document envelope for you. They said it’s important material.” I replied: “Don’t open it. Leave it right under the security camera. I’ll have IT security pick it up tomorrow.” The next morning, Marcus came to my office holding an anti-static bag. “You’re a psychic.” “There’s a Trojan horse inside the USB, disguised as a PDF reader plugin. The moment you plug it into your laptop, they can remotely copy your files.” I stared at the black USB drive. “Can you trace the source?” “No fingerprints on the packaging, but we can trace the batch number of the casing. Also, the delivery guy wore a mask, but the lobby security camera caught a side profile of his face.” Harper, who was standing beside me, darkened her expression. “Chloe, from this moment on, do not handle any of this on your own.” I nodded. “I need to make a formal compliance report to the company.” “About what?” “My boyfriend, Julian, is the lead manager for the competing firm on this project.” Harper cursed under her breath. “Why are you only telling me this now?” I whispered, “Because I only realized today that he might be more than just my boyfriend.” 3 The night before the bids were sealed, Ethan suddenly told me to go to the client’s office on the East Side. “The client has a clarification letter that must be confirmed by the project lead in person. It’ll take about half an hour.” I looked at the email CC list. Julian was also in the client’s communication thread. The comments scrolled rapidly. [They’re drawing you away.] [They are breaking into your apartment.] [Don’t go alone. Take legal counsel. Turn on your GPS tracking.] I turned to Harper. “Come with me.” Ethan’s face fell. “Why are you bringing legal? The client will think we don’t trust them.” Harper pinned her badge to her coat. “During the bidding lock-up period, any off-site confirmation requires legal presence to ensure compliance.” Ethan shut his mouth. On the way to the East Side, I kept my phone recording and shared my live location with Marcus. But when we arrived at the client’s lobby, the receptionist told us their manager had just left. When I called the assistant, they gave a vague answer: “Oh, maybe we got the time wrong.” Harper and I exchanged a look. We immediately turned around and sped back. Halfway there, my phone rang. It was Mr. Miller, the building property manager, his voice trembling. “Miss Chloe, you need to come back right now! Something terrible happened in your apartment!” My blood ran cold. “Who is in my apartment?” “A pregnant lady. She said she’s your colleague. She collapsed in your living room, and there’s blood on the floor. The ambulance is already on its way!” Harper grabbed my hand tightly. “Don’t panic. Don’t say anything yet.” I stared out at the streetlights flashing past. The comments flooded my eyes. [She’s starting her performance.] [Someone has already posted photos in the company group.] [The company’s security system is about to sound the alarm.] Sure enough, the next second, the company’s main WhatsApp group exploded. Someone had posted a photo. It was my living room. Audrey was lying on the floor, her face deathly pale, clutching her stomach. There was blood on her skirt. The caption read: “Something happened at Chloe’s place! I think Audrey just had a miscarriage!” Immediately after, an IT security alert popped up on my phone. “Warning: Suspected core file exfiltration. Source IP: Oakridge Apartments, Unit 6, Chloe’s home network.” The chat group went absolutely wild. “Her home network? Are you kidding me?” “Why was Audrey even at Chloe’s place?” “She turned her down yesterday, and now this happens? That is way too suspicious.” “The bidding files were leaked from her house? Isn’t she dating Julian from the rival company?” My fingertips were freezing. Julian’s call came through. I picked up. “Chloe, where are you? Audrey said you guys got into a huge fight, and she fell.” I asked, “What else did she say?” He paused. “She said… you found out about the baby.” “What baby?” “Chloe,” he lowered his voice, “now is not the time to argue about this. Just come back, apologize, and keep a low profile. I’ll find a lawyer for you.” I let out a harsh laugh. “Julian, you’ll help me?” “I’m doing this for your own good.” “Then wait for me at the scene.” I slammed the phone down. Ten minutes later, I rushed up to the sixth floor. The hallway was packed with people. Paramedics were wheeling a stretcher out. Audrey was lying on it, drenched in sweat. The moment she saw me, tears gushed down her face. “Chloe… I just wanted to live closer so I could finish the project. Even if you found out the baby is Julian’s… you shouldn’t have done this to me.” Her voice wasn’t loud. But it was loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear. 4 The hallway erupted. “The baby is Julian’s?!” “Isn’t Julian Chloe’s boyfriend?” “So the girlfriend caught the mistress and caused a miscarriage?!” “Wait, Chloe isn’t even married to Julian yet. Still, this is brutal. Taking it out on a pregnant woman is disgusting.” The paramedics pushed the stretcher toward the elevator. Audrey clung to the railing, sobbing hysterically. “I didn’t want to steal anything from you! I was already planning to leave him! Why couldn’t you just spare my baby?!” I looked at her. Impressive. She had seamlessly twisted “borrowing the apartment,” “the affair,” and “the miscarriage” into one single narrative. My refusal became jealousy. Her breaking into my home became me inviting her in. The baby she had lost days ago became a life I had murdered tonight. Ethan and a few other colleagues rushed up. Ethan’s face was livid. “Chloe, what the hell is going on here?” I ignored him. Instead, I turned to Mr. Miller. “Who opened my door?” Mr. Miller stammered, sweating profusely. “She… she had an authorization letter signed by you, and she showed us your chat logs. She said you agreed to let her move in tonight. She’s pregnant, and she said her stomach was hurting, so we called a locksmith…” I held out my hand. “Show me the authorization letter.” Mr. Miller handed me a printed piece of paper. It had my signature on it. The forgery was almost perfect. He also showed me a screenshot of a Snapchat conversation. “Audrey, you can stay at my place tonight. I’ll let property management know to give you the key, babe.” The profile picture was mine. But the tone wasn’t. I never call anyone “babe” except Julian. Then, someone posted a screenshot of Audrey’s bank transfer to the group. Five thousand dollars. Memo: Deposit for Oakridge Apartment rental. I opened my own PayPal transaction history. A transfer of five thousand dollars had indeed come in last night. But I had refunded it exactly one minute later. My refund memo read: Rental, borrowing, or handover of property was never approved. I posted the screenshot directly into the company main group chat. The group went silent for a second. But almost immediately, someone typed: “Well, maybe you just changed your mind at the last second.” “Yeah, Audrey was already inside your apartment. It’s not like she picked the lock herself.” “A baby is dead. Can we focus on saving a life first? You’re still arguing about technicalities. This is chilling.” Julian came running up the stairs. He looked more disheveled than anyone. “Chloe, please, stop aggravating her.” I stared at him. “She said the baby is yours.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Discussing this right now is completely pointless.” “Whether it’s pointless isn’t for you to decide.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “Calm down. The company system shows the files were leaked from your IP address, and Audrey collapsed in your home. The best thing you can do right now is cooperate. Don’t make this any bigger than it is.” I stared at his familiar face. For the past year, I thought he was gentle, restrained, and respectful of boundaries. Now I realized those were just his tools. The comments flashed. [Don’t argue with them.] [Don’t beg them to believe you.] [File a formal police report.] I took out my phone and typed a message into the company main group: “I am calling the police. I request the crime scene and the servers be sealed.” Then, I dialed 91 “I’d like to report a break-in. Someone illegally entered my apartment using a forged authorization. I suspect malicious frame-up. Additionally, my company’s highly confidential bidding project has been targeted for trade secret theft. I request an on-site investigation and digital forensics.”

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### Without my consent, my fiancé, Ethan, let his late mentor’s daughter move into the home we were supposed to share after marriage. I didn’t scream. I just quietly packed the bags I had prepared weeks ago and called the man I had rejected so many times before. “You said you wanted to take me away. Does that offer still stand?” This time, I left Ethan without looking back. We met again five years later at an annual industry symposium. I was the keynote speaker presenting the final award, and Ethan was this year’s recipient. When the host announced my name, the entire hall fell silent. I took the trophy, walked up to Ethan, and handed it to him with a polite smile. Ethan froze. His eyes swirling with an overwhelming storm of emotions. But to me, he was just a stranger. “Congratulations, Professor Vance.” It took him a long time to finally find his voice and call my name. “Hazel… where have you been all these years?” I offered a polite smile. “Getting married.” …… My tone was cold and distant, the kind of voice you’d use with a stranger you just bumped into on the street. But inside, my heart was a chaotic mess. Ethan and I had started dating in college. After graduation, we naturally got engaged. After our engagement, we both threw ourselves into our careers. We were constantly busy and rarely saw each other. I never thought it was an issue—until he started constantly bringing up Chloe, the daughter of his former PhD advisor. Ethan never acknowledged our relationship in public, and he never allowed me to mention it either. Yet, he let Chloe hold his arm and act cute with him in front of everyone. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I thought he was just looking out for his late mentor’s daughter. Until my birthday, when he stood me up to help Chloe take her dog to the vet. I was furious and demanded a breakup right then and there. Ethan, who usually kept his emotions locked away, fell to his knees. He cried, begging me not to leave him. “Hazel, I swear I don’t feel anything for her!” “I only look after her because her father was my mentor. He did so much for my career.” “Please believe me. Don’t leave me, okay?” Remembering all the good times we had shared, I softened. I accepted his apology. But after that, it happened again and again. Ethan would abandon me for Chloe over and over. I was foolish enough to keep making excuses for him, telling myself it was just out of respect for his late mentor. Until his birthday. I came home early, wanting to surprise him at our new townhouse. We had agreed to celebrate his birthday there together. But when I walked in, Chloe was already there. The sofa we had picked out together was covered in plush toys. Ethan, who had always hated stuffed animals, was holding one in his hands, gently asking Chloe where she wanted to put it. In that second, I forgot how to breathe. It took me several agonizing seconds to snap out of it. I stepped back out of the door. “Why is Chloe in our townhouse?” Ethan brushed it off, completely oblivious to how inappropriate he was being. “Oh, Chloe just started her internship in the city. It’s not safe for a young girl to live alone. Since this place is empty anyway, I told her she could stay here for a while.” Letting her move in? I let out a bitter laugh. “Ethan, that is our future home!” “It’s just temporary. Don’t be so petty, Hazel. She’s my late mentor’s only daughter. What’s the big deal if she stays here?” I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to ask what kind of fiancé lets another young woman move into his marital home. But when I finally opened my mouth, the only words that came out were: “……Never mind.” ###

What right did I have to complain anyway? Ever since Chloe showed up, I had stopped mattering to Ethan. The man who had once promised to love me forever, the man who swore he would never let me suffer, had given all his warmth and affection to Chloe. Whether it was my birthday or our anniversary, Chloe could drag Ethan away with a single Snapchat. I had fought with him. I had cried. But every single time, Ethan’s apologies were so incredibly sincere. He kept telling me that I was the one he loved, and that Chloe was just a responsibility. Time and time again, I backed down because of his sweet words. But today, seeing him let Chloe move into our home, watching her redecorate it, and seeing the tender smile on his face when he looked at her… I could no longer lie to myself. I forced a smile and fled the scene. A few days later, I went back to the townhouse to pack up the rest of my things. As I walked through the lobby, the new concierge stopped me. “Excuse me, ma’am. All visitors need to sign in at the front desk.” This was my townhouse. I was coming to “my own home,” yet I was treated like a guest who needed to register. I took the pen and signed my name, too tired to even feel angry. But a dull ache throbbed in my chest. We had been engaged for three years. As Ethan’s official fiancée, every time I visited him at his university, I was treated like a complete stranger. I had to sign the visitor log every single time. How blind had I been to believe his apologies over and over again? With a completely numb heart, I went back to my office. The email declining my company’s transfer to our London office was sitting in my drafts, unsent. I looked at the screen, staring at the paragraphs of excuses I had written just to stay close to Ethan. I laughed at myself. Without a second thought, I hit delete, typed a simple “I accept,” and clicked send. Once the email was gone, I pulled up my contacts and dialed the number I had rejected so many times before. The call went through almost instantly. I was quiet for a few seconds before speaking softly. “You said you wanted to take me away. Does that offer still stand?” There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by a deep, steady voice. “Always.” Although the decision to leave was made quickly, the paperwork was a headache. My company handled my visa and work transfer, but the joint accounts and assets I shared with Ethan required my personal attention. I went to the bank first, intending to withdraw my portion of the money from our joint savings account and close it. But the bank teller’s response completely blindsided me. “Ms. Hazel, there is no balance left in this joint account.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “What?” Ethan and I had opened this account when we got engaged. We agreed to deposit a set amount of money every month to build our future nest egg. Over three years, it should have accumulated at least eighty thousand dollars. How could there be nothing left? I asked the teller to check where the funds had gone. The teller was very polite. After looking through the records, she gave me a look of deep sympathy. “Ms. Hazel, the funds in this account were transferred last month into another joint account under Mr. Vance’s name and another individual.” The teller couldn’t legally disclose the other person’s name. But I didn’t need her to. I left the bank and immediately called a friend who worked in finance to look into it. Within minutes, the details were sent to my phone. It turned out that two years ago, Ethan had opened a joint account with Chloe behind my back. And all the money from our nest egg had been slowly moved into that account. I didn’t even know what to feel. In that moment, it felt like the entire world had gone dead silent. ###

I floated back to our current apartment like a ghost. I pulled out my keys, but before I could open the door, I heard familiar voices coming from inside. “Ethan, are you sure Hazel won’t be mad that you brought me here?” It was Chloe. Ethan’s voice was incredibly gentle. “She won’t. Hazel is very understanding. She’ll take good care of you.” My hands shook as I unlocked the door. I looked up and saw Ethan and Chloe sitting close together on the living room sofa. When Ethan saw me come in, he barely glanced up. “I have to go on a business trip with my department head for the next few days. The locks at the townhouse haven’t been changed yet, and I don’t feel safe leaving Chloe there alone. So, I brought her here to stay for a while.” “Hazel, while I’m away, please let Chloe sleep in the master bedroom. Make sure she’s taken care of.” He said it so casually, as if he were asking me to water a plant. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and spoke quietly. “Ethan, do you even remember that this is our home?” “You already let her move into our townhouse. And now, you want to hand this place over to her too?” Ethan didn’t even look at me. His voice turned irritated. “Hazel, what are you throwing a tantrum for now?” Chloe gave me a timid, victimized look, her voice trembling. “Ethan, I think Hazel is upset because of me. I should just leave…” Finally, Ethan deigned to look at me. But his eyes were cold, like he was looking at an annoying stranger. “Hazel, you’re a grown woman. Why are you picking on a kid like Chloe?” “A kid?” I laughed bitterly. “Ethan, Chloe is your late mentor’s daughter, not yours. She is twenty-two, not twelve.” “Have you ever seen a twenty-two-year-old ‘kid’?” Ethan’s face went cold. He stood up, shielding Chloe behind him, and glared at me. “Hazel, what is your problem?” I looked past him, locking eyes with Chloe. “My problem, Professor Vance, is that I find it hard to believe you haven’t heard the rumors spreading about you and Chloe all over campus.” Chloe’s eyes flickered, and a faint smirk played on her lips for a fraction of a second. Ethan frowned. “I told you, those are just mindless rumors.” “I only look after Chloe because of her father.” The resentment I had bottled up for years finally exploded. I stepped forward, raising my voice. “Her father again! Ethan, tell me, does looking after your mentor’s daughter mean letting her move into our future home? Letting her redecorate it?!” “What kind of professor abandons his fiancée on her birthday just because a female student calls?!” Ethan’s face turned pale with rage, but he still refused to acknowledge his behavior. “Hazel, shut up! I’ve explained this to you a million times! Do you have to act like a crazy, hysterical bitch and ruin my peace?!” Chloe shrunk behind him, her eyes gleefully mocking me. Yet, her words were perfectly sweet. “Ethan, please don’t fight with Hazel because of me.” “If she doesn’t like me here, I’ll leave. I won’t stay at the townhouse either.” She claimed she wanted to leave, but she didn’t make a single move. She just stared at Ethan with tearful eyes. I lost my patience. I grabbed Chloe’s wrist and dragged her toward the front door. “Fine. I’ll drive you back to your dorm myself right now!” Chloe struggled weakly. Suddenly, she threw her weight backward, pulling me down with her as we both crashed to the floor. Ethan panicked. He rushed forward, lifting Chloe into his arms and holding her close, his voice filled with worry. “Chloe! Are you hurt? Are you okay?” Chloe clung to his chest, shaking her head. “I’m fine. Check on Hazel first. She fell harder than I did.” Ethan looked up at me. But instead of concern, his hand flew through the air, and a sharp slap landed squarely across my face. *Smack.* “Hazel! How can you be so malicious?!” “You’re jealous of a kid! You spread rumors about us, and now you’re physically pushing her!” “If Chloe injured her hands because of you, do you have any idea how that would affect her career?!” My cheek stung, but my heart was completely numb. Seeing how easily he believed her, and how fiercely he protected her, a profound sense of despair washed over me. I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. “Ethan,” I said, using the wall to pull myself up. “We’re done. Let’s break up.” Ethan froze for a second, then flared up in anger. “Hazel, can you grow up? Stop using breakups to threaten me every time things don’t go your way!” He scooped Chloe up in his arms and walked toward the door. “Since you’re going to be like this, I’ll take Chloe to a hotel.” “Use this time to cool your head. I’ll deal with you when I get back.” *Deal with me when he gets back?* I lowered my eyes, hiding the cold finality in them. Ethan, there is no “when you get back.” We will never have anything to do with each other again. …… Five days later, Ethan returned from his business trip. He was still annoyed about the fight before he left. The more he thought about Hazel’s “petty behavior,” the more resentful he felt. Yet, he had still bought her a designer bag as a peace offering. He took a few deep breaths at the front door, opened it, and placed the gift on the entryway table. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper the other day. I’m sorry.” “But Hazel, I need you to be more mature. Stop throwing fits over nothing.” The apartment remained dead silent. He didn’t get the reply he usually did. Ethan looked around the empty living room, and a sudden, cold panic gripped his chest.

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1 After seven years apart, I quit my job and moved back to share an apartment with Johnny. I entered the door code three times, each attempt rejected. When the door opened, it wasn’t Johnny but my best friend Gigi standing there, wearing his button-down shirt that barely covered her thighs. “Sera! You’re back?” Her smile was casual. “Had a fight with my roommates, so I’ve been crashing here.” Johnny emerged from the bathroom. “Stop blocking the door,” he snapped. “Gigi takes the master bedroom. You’re in the guest room tonight.” Irritation masked his face, but his familiar inner voice rang clear in my mind. [We’ve been apart so long. Have you fallen for someone else? Sera, say this is our place. Tell her to leave. Make a scene. Show you care.] For seven years, this was his pattern. Late replies meant dinners with Gigi. Missed weekends meant she stayed over. Before, I would have cried, demanded answers, thrown the tantrum he craved. This time, my eyes caught the pink towel around his waist and the lace bra on the balcony. The questions died in my throat. I stepped back, gripped my suitcase, and turned away. A home built for three was not mine to claim. 2 Gigi reached out, grabbing the edge of my suitcase. “Sera, come on. It’s just a locked door. You’re not actually mad, are you?” She pouted. “Don’t overthink it. I kept forgetting the old code, so Johnny changed it to my birthday.” Johnny let out a sharp scoff. “She’s just being dramatic. It’s a bunch of numbers. Who cares if they change?” His face showed nothing but contempt, but his inner voice grew louder, panic-stricken. [Say something! Say that the old code was our anniversary. Tell me I’m not allowed to change it.] [Sera, why aren’t you reacting at all?] I remained silent. Gigi leaned against the doorframe, letting out a soft yawn. “Are you coming in or what? We’re heading to bed soon.” I pulled my copy of the keys from my purse and set them quietly on the console near the door. “No, thanks. Get some sleep.” Johnny froze. “Fine, if you’re not coming in, then get lost!” he snarled, slamming the door shut with a deafening bang. The force of it made me stumble backward. My handbag slipped from my shoulder, spilling its contents onto the cold hallway floor. A stack of old train tickets slid across the tiles. The one on top was dated exactly seven years ago. On the day I was transferred to the regional office, Johnny had walked me to the platform. The boarding announcement had chimed three times before he finally let go of me. “Go on, Sera,” he had said, his tone breezy. “Don’t look back.” But in that exact second, I heard his inner voice for the very first time. [Sera, I don’t want you to go.] [But I can’t hold you back.] [I love you. Please wait for me.] I had frozen at the turnstile, tears blurring my vision. After that, during those long-distance years, I took that five-hour train ride countless times. Even when I worked past midnight, I would rush to catch the red-eye just to see him. Until the time I pulled back-to-back all-nighters, fainted at my desk, and missed the train. The second I woke up in the hospital bed, I called him. It took seven attempts before he finally picked up. “I’m having dinner with Gigi,” he said, his voice freezing cold. “What are you crying for? You didn’t have time for me, so I found someone who did. She’s your best friend, isn’t she? With her keeping an eye on me, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.” That night, Gigi posted three updates on social media: hot pot, a dimly lit bar, and the city streets at three in the morning. Meanwhile, I lay alone in a sterile hospital room, a cold IV drip running into my arm all night. A tear fell onto the old paper ticket in my hand. I tried to wipe it away, but the ink only smudged, leaving a dark, permanent stain. 3 The apartment door swung open again. “If you’re too stubborn to leave, then get your ass inside,” Johnny muttered. Seeing the tears on my face, the harsh edge in his expression softened slightly. “How many days do you have off this time?” I didn’t tell him that I had quit my job permanently. There was no point. I had sacrificed my career progression just to end seven years of long-distance. Yet here he was, already playing house with Gigi. Gigi walked out of the bathroom with a fresh towel. She reached up and began drying his hair with practiced ease. Johnny didn’t pull away; he actually leaned down to make it easier for her. His silent thoughts claimed he loved me, but his body had long since adapted to Gigi’s touch. This apartment had no room left for me. The tickets remained scattered on the floor. I didn’t bother picking them up as I walked toward the elevator. Johnny let out a cold laugh behind me. “Sera, if you walk out that door today, we are done.” I pressed the down button. I didn’t look back. His inner voice suddenly descended into chaos. [Sera, don’t go. I just wanted to make you jealous.] [Just turn around, and I’ll make it up to you. I promise.] The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside. [Please, don’t leave.] I heard him. But this time, I didn’t hesitate. The metal doors slowly slid shut, slicing his desperate face from my view and cutting off the frantic echoes of his mind. Right then, my phone vibrated. It was Mr. Ward, the director from corporate headquarters. “Sera, the position at headquarters is still open for you. Have you made up your mind?” I wiped my cheeks and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Mr. Ward, I’ll report for duty tomorrow morning.” 4 I checked into a cheap hotel for the night. The next morning, a call from the apartment building’s management woke me. “Miss Seraphina, the large shipping crates you sent ahead are piled up right outside the main lobby entrance. Tenants are complaining about the blockage. Could you please clear them out immediately?” When I set out for this city, I had planned on never leaving. I had packed up seven years of my life and shipped it all ahead of me. The boxes had arrived, but just like me, they had nowhere to go. I rushed back to Johnny’s apartment complex through the pouring rain. But when I arrived at the entrance, the pavement was bare. Gigi was just about to head inside, wearing a pair of plush slippers. “Sera, what took you so long? Those boxes were completely blocking the doorway.” She pointed toward the communal dumpster area at the back of the building. “Johnny said the two of you broke up, and that your stuff was just junk. So, I did you a favor and tossed it.” My ears rang with a deafening buzz. I spun on my heel and sprinted toward the dumpsters. The cardboard boxes had turned to mush in the rain. My belongings were scattered across the wet asphalt, soaking in filthy puddles. I dropped to my knees, frantically digging through the wet trash until my fingers brushed against a sodden, stuffed puppy. It was bloated with rainwater, one of its button eyes missing. It was the very first gift Johnny had ever given me. Over the last seven years, whenever the distance grew too hard to bear, this toy was my only comfort. Last year, when I was hospitalized with a fractured leg after a minor car accident, Johnny had booked a flight to see me. But then Gigi sprained her ankle. Over the phone, his voice had been rushed. “I’ll come after her ankle heals, okay?” I had spent that agonizing night unable to sleep, clutching this little stuffed dog until dawn. I squeezed the wet toy to my chest. Nearby, a pair of black heels caught my eye, one of the heels snapped clean off. I bought those six months ago. That day, a colleague had maliciously deleted my project files. I had hidden in the office courtyard, sobbing until I couldn’t breathe. I had called Johnny repeatedly, but he hadn’t answered until after midnight. “What’s wrong now?” he had sighed. “Gigi had a fight with her roommates, and I just finished moving her into the apartment.” The next morning, I went to the mall and bought those expensive heels. I told myself: Sera, stand tall. If no one is coming to bring you home, you walk back on your own two feet. For seven years, I survived the constant traveling and the crushing loneliness. These objects had been my anchors. And now, they were rotting in a pile of garbage. “Gigi, what gave you the right to throw my things away?” I screamed, my voice cracking. “Sera, why are you screaming at her?” Johnny’s voice boomed from behind me. He stepped forward, holding a large umbrella over Gigi’s head. “It’s just a few boxes of useless junk. What’s the big deal?” Gigi looked at my tear-stained face and burst into soft, dramatic tears. “I thought you didn’t want any of this anymore, Sera.” Surveying the ruined keepsakes littering the wet ground, Johnny’s expression darkened. His inner thoughts began crashing into my mind. [Why are there so many boxes?] [I thought she was only visiting for a few days.] [The stuffed puppy… she kept it all this time?] His eyes drifted to the wet toy in my arms, but the words that slipped past his lips were cold and biting. “You dumped your things at my place after we broke up. If that’s not trash, I don’t know what is.” I clutched the wet puppy tighter, looking him dead in the eye. “Johnny, my things aren’t garbage. You are.” The downpour blurred my vision as a crowd began to gather around the trash area. Several neighbors whispered among themselves. “Isn’t that the young couple from upstairs? They’ve been living together for at least six months. I always see them grocery shopping together.” Another neighbor glared at me, her voice dripping with disgust. “Then who is she? Some crazy ex-girlfriend making a scene? Maybe she’s a side chick trying to cause trouble? Digging through the trash like that… how pathetic.” A sharp pain pierced through my already numb heart. Six months. They had been living together for half a year, sharing groceries, walking home under the same umbrella, playing the part of a devoted couple in the eyes of everyone else. Meanwhile, I had spent seven years in a legitimate relationship, only to end up branded as a desperate homewrecker digging through garbage. Johnny’s face turned incredibly pale, yet he didn’t offer a single word of explanation. Gigi reached out and gently tugged on his sleeve. “Johnny, let’s just go inside,” she murmured. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then held the umbrella over her as he guided her through the glass doors of the lobby. I stood alone in the freezing rain, watching their retreating figures. His inner voice grew fainter with every step they took. [Sera isn’t a side chick.] [She’s the only one I’ve ever loved.] I tuned the noise out. The rain came down in sheets. I knelt back down on the wet pavement, ripping open the soggy cardboard to search for the antique pocket watch my grandmother had left me. But even after digging through every single box, it was nowhere to be found. The cold had seeped deep into my bones, and my vision began to tilt and fade to black. 5 When I opened my eyes, I was lying in an unfamiliar guest room. Gigi was sitting on the edge of the mattress, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Sera, you fainted out there. I had Johnny carry you upstairs,” she said, gently tucking the blanket around my shoulders. “Don’t listen to what those neighbors said. I went back down and set them straight. I told them you’re not a side chick. I said we’re close friends, and you were planning on moving in with me. I explained that since the apartment belongs to Johnny, and he’s my boyfriend now, it just caused a little misunderstanding.” Her voice was soft and sincere, as if she were my savior. But all I could think of was our sophomore year of college. When my financial aid grant was stolen by another student, Gigi had marched with me straight to the dean’s office. “I absolutely loathe manipulative thieves who steal from others and then act like the victim!” she had spat. She had been angrier than I was. Yet now, as she declared Johnny was her boyfriend, she wore that exact same mask of pure, unblemished innocence. Gigi used to look down on Johnny, sneering at him whenever his name came up. But gradually, imperceptibly, she had started calling him Johnny with a soft familiarity. She began wearing his jackets, meeting him for private dinners, and going on trips alone with him. I hadn’t been completely blind to her overstepping boundaries, but she was my best friend, and Johnny had constantly told me I was overthinking things. Back then, his inner voice would constantly reassure me: [Sera, I only love you.] And so, I had forced myself to swallow the discomfort time and time again. But I was done playing blind. “Cut the act, Gigi,” I said, pushing myself up against the headboard. “Where are my credentials?” I was supposed to report to headquarters today. The copies of my files had been ruined in the rain, but since I had considered this apartment my home, I kept all my original diplomas and certifications here. Gigi blinked. “I have no idea. Why don’t you look around?” I ignored her, throwing off the covers and stepping out of bed. The master bedroom was officially her room now, but Johnny’s shirts hung alongside her dresses in the closet. My own clothes had been stuffed into the deepest corner, crumpled and forgotten. Gigi trailed behind me, whispering, “He only sleeps in here when he gets too drunk.” I didn’t care what they did in this bed. I just wanted my papers. I pulled open the nightstand drawer. There was no folder inside. Instead, my eyes landed on three boxes of condoms. One box was missing compared to the last time I had visited. My hand froze for a fraction of a second. I forced myself to look away. On the small vanity table nearby lay a greasy, uncleaned delivery box. Gigi let out a sudden gasp, as if remembering something. “Oh, Sera, is this what you were looking for?” She lifted the greasy plastic takeout container. Underneath it lay my hard-earned college diploma, the leather cover smeared with thick, orange chili oil. Gigi bit her lip. “I’m so sorry. I was eating takeout in here last night and needed something sturdy to prop up the container. I didn’t realize.” I snatched it from her hands and flipped it open. The certificate inside was thoroughly soaked in grease, the official embossed seal stained and smelling of stale, spicy food. “Sera, don’t be ungrateful!” Johnny barked, storming into the room and positioning himself protectively in front of Gigi. “Gigi was nice enough to let you stay here. It’s just a piece of paper. Was it really necessary to get physical with her?” I didn’t bother defending myself. Staring at the ruined document, my mind raced with a single, urgent thought: How do I replace this in time? Suddenly, a familiar ringtone broke the silence. It was my phone, but the sound was coming from Gigi’s pocket. By the time I snatched it out of her grasp, the call had already disconnected. On the screen was a text message from Mr. Ward, sent ten minutes ago. [The meeting was scheduled for now. Where are you?] I hadn’t even seen the text, but there was already a reply sent from my number: [I’ve decided to decline the transfer offer.] My head snapped up, my gaze locking onto Gigi. “Who gave you permission to text my boss?” She didn’t look remotely remorseful. “Sera, I did it for your own good.” I didn’t waste time arguing. I hit dial, calling Mr. Ward immediately. “Mr. Ward, that message wasn’t from me. I haven’t declined the position.” The line went quiet for a few seconds. “We’ve already initiated the backup candidate process,” Mr. Ward’s voice was professional but firm. “Sera, if you still want this job, you need to be in my office in thirty minutes.” I hung up and bolted for the door. Gigi chased after me. “Sera, don’t do something stupid!” she cried. “If you run off to see this older male executive right now, Johnny is going to get the wrong idea.” Johnny’s face hardened as he caught up to us. “What director?” Gigi gave a small, theatrical flinch. “The male boss who kept the headquarters position open for her,” she whispered. “He promised Sera that if she came back, he’d handle her promotion, housing, and stipends. I only sent the text because I was worried she was getting taken advantage of!” Johnny’s expression turned incredibly dark. He stepped directly into my path, blocking the exit. “Sera, are you seriously throwing away your self-respect for some corporate housing? What are you running off to do? Show him what you’re worth? Sleep your way to the top?” I glanced at my phone. Twenty-seven minutes left. “Get out of my way,” I said, pushing past him. The elevator display showed it was down for maintenance. I lunged for the heavy door to the stairwell. Gigi’s voice echoed behind me. “Johnny, stop her! What if that boss tries to take advantage of her?” I had barely cleared the first landing when Johnny caught up, his fingers clamping down on my wrist like iron cuffs. “Sera, you’re not going anywhere today.” I thrashed against his grip, desperate to break free. “Johnny, let go of me! You have no right!” His eyes flashed with anger, and he tightened his hold. Wincing from the pain, I instinctively tried to pull back. But my heel caught on the edge of the concrete step behind me. My foot slipped into empty air. The next second, I was tumbling backward, crashing violently down the concrete flight of stairs until I slammed hard against the brick wall of the lower landing. Darkness threatened to swallow me as a blinding, agonizing pain flared through my body. Johnny stood frozen on the steps above, his face pale with horror. [Sera!] [I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to.] I couldn’t tell where the blood was coming from. Everything just hurt. The pain was absolute, crushing. But the worst of the pain hadn’t happened just now. It was the moment I arrived with my suitcases, believing I was finally coming home, only to find another woman living in my place. It was kneeling on the wet pavement, digging through trash to retrieve a ruined stuffed dog. My eyes were open, but I couldn’t form a single word. Johnny stumbled down the stairs, falling to his knees beside me. “Sera…” [Please get up. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t lie there.] [I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just terrified you didn’t love me anymore.] [If you don’t love me, I’d rather die.] He reached out to touch my cheek, but his hand froze mid-air. For the very first time, the silent voice of my mind echoed clearly in his head. [Johnny.] [Go to hell.]

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1 Doug had promised to take me to Iceland. Flights and hotels were booked, but a late-night call changed everything. He unpacked his winter gear, replacing it with light windbreakers. “Audrey needs Key West to clear her head,” he said flatly. “We’ll see the lights another time.” The next day, Audrey sent a taunting voice note. “Doug said Iceland was too cold for you. We’re having the best time here.” Her laughter grated as I sat alone, staring at the two divorce agreements on the table. He had signed them on our wedding day, three years ago. I had called him paranoid then. Now, I uncapped my pen. I dialed his number, waiting through endless rings. “Have fun,” I said, my voice cold. “I’m signing the papers.” Silence stretched for three seconds. Over the ocean breeze, Audrey’s playful voice called to him. Doug just sighed. “Bridgit, stop throwing a tantrum.” He forgot I never feared the cold. I only feared lacking resolve. Five minutes after I emailed him a scan of the signed papers, my phone lit up with his call. I declined it. It rang again. This time, I swiped to answer but remained silent. “What is the meaning of this?” His voice was tightly controlled, strained against the background noise of crashing waves and Audrey’s distant laughter. “Exactly what it looks like.” “Bridgit,” he muttered, grit in his tone, “don’t force me to have an argument with you in front of other people.” “You are already in Key West, Doug. You promised me Iceland. For three years, we’ve pushed this trip back. And you didn’t even bother to ask me before you let Audrey’s phone call ruin our plans.” There was a heavy pause on his end. “Her depression flared up again. The doctor recommended a change of scenery. She is a lifelong friend, Bridgit, I couldn’t just abandon her.” “I am your wife.” “Can you please be reasonable for once? She didn’t mean any harm. She even sent you a voice note because she was terrified you would misunderstand.” “She sent me a voice note to gloat that you thought I was too fragile for the cold, and you think she was doing me a favor?” He didn’t answer. The sound of the tide rushed through the speaker. Audrey’s voice floated over, closer this time. “Doug, look at this shell! It’s so beautiful, can you take a photo of me with it?” “Bridgit, we will talk when I get back,” Doug said, his tone softening slightly. “Keep the papers safe. Don’t do anything reckless.” “I am not being reckless. Three years ago, when you signed those papers, you told me I could walk away whenever I wanted. I thought it was a joke back then. Now I realize you were just building yourself an exit.” The silence on the line stretched out. “Bridgit, is there anything I can do that will actually satisfy you?” “What have you actually done?” He was entirely silenced. Audrey’s voice came closer, practically pressing against the microphone. “Doug, the ice cream is going to melt. Oh, is Bridgit on the line? Bridgit, I am so sorry! Am I interrupting you guys?” I didn’t bother to reply. I hung up. Doug booked the earliest flight back to Chicago the following morning. The door code hadn’t changed, and he let himself in. I was sitting on the sofa, sorting through some work documents. He threw his suitcase by the foyer, walked over, and tossed his phone onto the coffee table. The screen showed a photo of the two of them smiling by the Florida coastline. “I deleted them,” he said, sitting down opposite me. “You can have whatever compensation you want. Just stop talking about divorce.” “I don’t want anything from you.” He stared at me, his eyes dark. “Then tell me, what makes you think I don’t love you? I bought you this townhouse, the designer bags, and whenever your family needed help, wasn’t I always the first one there? Bridgit, have some decency.” “Is that what love is to you?” “Then tell me what it is.” “Keeping your promises,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “And not putting me behind Audrey at every turn. Three years, Doug. This is the third time.” “The first time, you said she was heartbroken and needed a companion to travel. The second time, she had a minor family crisis and you rushed to her side. Now, it’s her mental health. What will it be next time? Will you even bother to consult me, or will you just leave a note?” His Adam’s apple bobbed, but no words came out. “I want a divorce,” I said, standing up. “This isn’t a threat to get your attention. It’s just that after three years, I can finally see what the next thirty years of my life would look like with you.” “You talk as if it’s so easy. How are you going to manage on your own? The house, the car…” “The agreement states the townhouse goes to me, you keep the car, and we split our savings down the middle. Did you even bother to read it?” “No,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I didn’t want to. Bridgit, do you really want to leave me this badly?” “You were the one who let go first.” He stood up, reaching his hand out as if to touch my shoulder. “Don’t touch me,” I said, taking a step back. At that moment, his phone buzzed. A message from Audrey flashed on the screen before he could grab it. Did you make it home safe, Doug? The sunset here is stunning, but it feels so empty without you. Doug slammed the phone face down. “Why does she still have your personal number?” I asked. He remained silent. I looked at the copy of the unsigned agreement on the table. The version he had signed three years ago was already tucked safely in my purse. “Audrey stayed at our place last year, remember? You told me she had nowhere else to go, so I prepared the guest room. But when I was washing the sheets after she left, I found a black hair tie under her pillow. It wasn’t mine.” His face paled instantly. “You told me you were working late until midnight that night, but you actually came home at ten. I was in the bedroom, and I heard the two of you talking in the living room. She told you she still loved you. And you told her you knew.” He parted his lips, but no sound came. “And do you know why I didn’t say anything?” I let out a soft, tired laugh. “Because the very next day, I found a receipt in your coat pocket for a designer jewelry box. You bought it for her birthday.” “It was just a birthday gift…” “You remembered her birthday perfectly. But you forgot mine twice.” He fell completely silent, his hands clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists at his sides. “The papers are on the table. Sign them and send them back to me by the end of the day.” I picked up my bag and walked toward the door. “Bridgit!” he called out behind me. I paused but didn’t turn around. “I really…” “Don’t tell me you love me,” I said, turning the doorknob. “You only love the security of having someone waiting for you at home. It was never about me.” The door clicked shut behind me. As I waited by the elevator, I heard the faint, heavy thud of something being thrown against the wall inside the apartment. I didn’t stop. I pressed the down button. My phone vibrated with another voice note from Audrey. I deleted the chat history without opening it. When the elevator doors opened, a text from Doug popped up on my screen. Three words. I agree. That evening, he sent a follow-up message asking when we should finalize the paperwork at the courthouse. Tomorrow, I replied. Fine, he wrote back. When I arrived at City Hall the next morning, he was already there, leaning against his car and smoking. There were several crushed filters by his shoes. He stubbed out his cigarette when he saw me walk up. “Let’s get this over with.” The process was quicker than he had anticipated. The clerk stamped our documents, handed us our respective copies, and murmured a flat, rehearsed congratulations before moving on to the next file. Outside the grand stone steps, Doug stopped. “Do you have a place to stay?” “Yes.” “Do you need money?” “No.” He stared at me, his jaw set in a hard line. “Did Audrey tell you we were getting a divorce?” “She has nothing to do with this.” “She called me last night,” I said, wrapping my wool scarf tighter around my neck. “She congratulated me on my freedom and promised she would take excellent care of you.” His expression twisted into something akin to horror. “She said that to you?” “Yes.” “There is nothing between us, Bridgit. I swear.” “Well, now there can be. You’re single.” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His phone began to ring. He glanced at the screen and immediately declined the call. “Answer it,” I said quietly. “I am not your wife anymore.” He didn’t pick up, shoving the phone deep into his pocket. “Let me drive you home.” “No need.” I turned toward the subway entrance. He took two steps to follow me, then stopped. The Chicago wind was brutal, stinging my eyes, but I didn’t look back. On the day I moved my things out, Doug sent a moving company to assist. He didn’t show up himself, sending his assistant, Toby, instead. Once the truck was loaded, Toby stood near the door, looking highly uncomfortable. “Mr. Vance asked me to let you know that you can keep the downtown apartment. The deed will be transferred to your name in a few days.” “There’s no need. The agreement gave me the townhouse, which is more than enough. Tell him I don’t want it.” “But Mr. Vance said…” “Whatever he told you to say, don’t. Just head back, Toby.” Toby nodded quietly and left. The downtown apartment was a place Doug had purchased before our marriage. He had intended it for his parents, but they preferred their quiet life upstate, so the place had remained empty. As I was sorting through my things, I found a cardboard box with yellowed tape that read Bridgit’s College Keepsakes. Inside were dozens of love letters he had written to me during our university days, tied together with a simple rubber band. The first one was from our freshman year, describing how he had fallen for me after watching me feed a stray cat near the library. I let out a soft laugh, refolding the paper carefully before putting it back. At the bottom of the box was a cheap silver ring we had bought from a street vendor for ten dollars. During our sophomore year, he had saved up for months to buy an expensive diamond ring to propose, but I had insisted he return it because we couldn’t afford it. He had bought the silver band as a placeholder. “Just use this for now,” he had murmured, slipping it onto my ring finger. “When I make it big, I’ll buy you the biggest diamond in the city.” He did make it big, eventually. But the silver ring had long since been relegated to the back of a drawer. My phone rang. An unrecognized number. I picked up, and Audrey’s sweet, dripping voice filled my ear. “Bridgit? Do you have a minute?” “Speak.” “Doug hasn’t been doing well these past few days. He’s been drinking constantly, and he won’t listen to me. After all, you two were married. Don’t you think you should…” “His drinking habits are no longer my concern.” “How can you be so cold-blooded?” she gasped. “Cold-blooded?” I let out a sharp laugh. “He was married to me for three years, and you hovered over our marriage the entire time. And now you call me cold-blooded?” “I never tried to get between you! We are just friends! Why is your mind always so twisted?” “Then explain Key West.” “He came because he wanted to! I didn’t force him. Besides, he only changed the destination because he was worried you’d freeze in Iceland. Why can’t you see he was trying to protect you?” “Audrey.” “What?” “Who pays the rent for your apartment?” The line went silent. “Last October, you told me you had nowhere to go, and Doug had you stay at our place for three days. After you left, he rented an apartment for you right downstairs in our building. Do you remember that?” Her breathing grew ragged. “I ran into you in the lobby on the day you moved in, wheeling your pink suitcase. You smiled and said what a coincidence it was. I didn’t call you out then because I wanted to see if Doug would be honest with me.” “And did he?” “He never said a word. But I checked his bank statements. He paid your rent every single month for a year.” “He was just pitying me…” “Then you should call him right now and tell him to stop drinking. I’m sure he’ll listen to you.” “Bridgit, you’re just jealous! You hate that he treats anyone else with kindness!” “Yes, I was jealous. But now we are divorced, so you should be thrilled.” She didn’t reply. I hung up. That evening, I received a text from Doug. Audrey called me. What did you say to her? I didn’t answer. Another text followed: She was hysterical, claiming you were bullying her. I typed out three words: Go comfort her. The message marked as read, but he didn’t respond. At two in the morning, my doorbell rang. Through the security camera, I saw Doug leaning heavily against the doorframe, his hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, smelling strongly of alcohol. I opened the door. He stared at me, his lips trembling before he managed to speak. “Bridgit… I made a mistake.” He leaned toward me the moment the door opened, his scent of whiskey and stale smoke making me turn my face away. “Stand up straight.” He stumbled, grabbing the doorframe to steady himself. “Bridgit, listen to me…” “I’m listening.” “I was wrong.” “About what?” He frowned, trying to find the words, but his mind was too clouded. “If you don’t even know what you did wrong, why are you here apologizing?” “I shouldn’t have gone to Key West. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I shouldn’t have let her move into the building, and I shouldn’t have lied about the rent…” “And?” “And what?” “You texted me last night accusing me of bullying her. Doug, you came to defend your little friend, and now that you’re drunk, you come here to beg for forgiveness? Do you have a split personality?” He parted his lips, his face turning pale as the alcohol took its toll. “I didn’t mean it like that… I was just drunk…” “Then come back when you’re sober.” I tried to step back to close the door, but he lunged forward, jamming his foot into the doorframe. “Bridgit, please don’t close the door.” “Move your foot.” “No.” I pushed the door hard, and he let out a sharp grunt of pain, but his foot remained firmly in place. “Are you out of your mind?” “Probably,” he whispered, his eyes red and swimming with tears. “I was out of my mind to sign those papers. I went to the building manager today. You returned the keys to the downtown apartment. You won’t live in the townhouse I bought, and you’re transferring money to my account every month to cover your half of the mortgage. You’re cutting me out so cleanly, Bridgit. Did you plan this all along?” “I am paying my half because the agreement gave me the townhouse. I pay my own bills.” “Then why won’t you live in the downtown apartment?” “Because it belongs to you.” “Is it really mine? I transferred it to you, don’t you get it?” “I don’t want it.” He stared at me for a long time before letting out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh that made his shoulders shake. “You always told me you hated receiving gifts because they felt like an obligation. When I bought you those designer bags and jewelry, you kept them, so I thought you had changed. But you hadn’t. You only accepted them to keep me at a distance, so you could calculate exactly what you owed me when you left.” “You’re overthinking it.” “Am I?” He pointed a finger at his own chest. “I am standing here like an idiot, begging you not to shut me out. Just give me one honest answer, Bridgit. Do you still love me?” “No.” He fell completely still. His foot slowly slid out of the doorframe, and he took a step back, his hand still resting weakly against the wood. “Say that again.” “I don’t love you anymore.” He stared at me, blinking rapidly as a single tear escaped his right eye. He quickly wiped it away. “Fine.” He nodded slowly. “Fine.” He turned toward the elevator, but after a few paces, he stopped, his back still turned to me. “I left the keys to the downtown apartment on your shoe rack. Whether you live there or not is up to you. But it’s yours.” The elevator doors slid open, and he stepped inside. Before the doors closed, he muttered, “I made Audrey move out of the building. Believe me or don’t. It’s up to you.” The elevator began its descent, the floor numbers ticking down. I closed the door and locked it. Sure enough, a silver key lay on the shoe rack, attached to a leather strap with a small, ugly rabbit keychain. I had won that cheap little rabbit at a carnival game during our sophomore year. He had told me it was too ugly to keep, but I had snapped it onto his keyring anyway, telling him he had to carry it every day. Through all the cars and houses he had bought over the years, that ugly little rabbit had remained on his keyring. I picked it up, stared at it for a moment, and placed it in a drawer. My phone buzzed. It was a photo from Doug. Audrey’s pink suitcase was sitting on the pavement outside the building entrance, next to two large cardboard boxes. A second message followed: She’s gone. Her rent is paid through next spring, but after that, she’s on her own. I didn’t reply. I washed up and went to bed, but my phone vibrated again. Did you throw away the silver ring? Which ring? The ten-dollar one? No. You told me you’d only take it off if I stopped wanting you. Do you remember that? I remember. But I never stopped wanting you… You only ever came back when I threatened to leave, Doug. The message marked as read, but no reply came. Ten minutes later, another text arrived. I’m flying to Iceland tomorrow. I stared at the screen for several seconds. Alone? Yes. You hate the cold. Didn’t you say you weren’t afraid of it? I’m still not. Then I’ll take photos of the lights for you. Don’t bother. He sent a location link. He was at the airport lounge. It was 4:30 AM. I booked the ticket tonight. I wanted us to go together. You can always take someone else. There is no one else, Bridgit. Not since you closed that door. I turned off my phone and rolled over. Outside, the sweep of a car’s headlights cut across my ceiling before vanishing into the dark. The next morning, I opened my phone to find three messages from him. The first was a photo of his boarding gate at 5:30 AM. The second was a shot through the airplane window, showing a gray, overcast sky. The third was a paragraph of text: We’re taking off. You always claimed you weren’t afraid of the cold, but I remember how you used to bundle yourself up like a giant ball every winter. You told me you only pretended to be cold so I would hold your hands. Was that a lie too? I typed a response, then deleted it. In the end, I only wrote: Safe travels. There was no further reply. That afternoon, I went to the supermarket. As I wheeled my cart through the seafood section, I saw the fresh salmon and remembered the first time he had tried to cook for me. He had burned the fish black but insisted it was a special blackened Cajun style. We had been fresh out of college, living in a cramped, drafty studio with a greasy kitchen, and he had been running around in my floral apron. I reached for a pack of salmon, then slowly put it back. My phone buzzed. A message sent from thirty thousand feet. The flight attendant asked what I wanted to drink. I asked for warm milk. You always said my stomach was too sensitive for iced drinks. I remembered. You remember everything I said, but what’s the point now? The point is that every night before I sleep, I replay everything I did wrong, planning how to fix it tomorrow. And did you fix it? I fixed it. But by the time I did, everything was already ruined. I didn’t write back. A thunderstorm hit the city that night. The wind howled through the half-open balcony door, sending the papers on my coffee table scattering across the floor. As I gathered them, my eyes fell on the copy of our divorce agreement, specifically his signature. His name, Doug Vance, was written in large, forceful strokes, the final line of his surname dragging out unusually long, the ink slightly smudged. I remembered why he always signed his name that way. During our senior year, he had complained about how tedious his signature was. I had suggested he shorten it, but he had refused. “No way,” he had said, smiling. “Everything I write for you has to be complete. I drag the final stroke out so my name can linger on the page a little longer.” I had called him overly dramatic back then. He had laughed, telling me it was about the art of the gesture. The doorbell rang, cutting through my thoughts. I checked the security feed, but the hallway was empty. When I opened the door, a thermal delivery bag was sitting on the welcome mat. Inside was a container of warm pumpkin porridge, with a sticky note attached. Warm pumpkin porridge. You always said it helped when your stomach was acting up. I made it myself. Eat it while it’s hot. The handwriting was unmistakably his. I looked down the long, empty corridor. I brought the bag inside. The porridge was perfectly smooth, though the pumpkin chunks were cut into uneven, awkward sizes, a clear sign of someone who didn’t know their way around a kitchen. I took a few spoonfuls, the heat stinging the tip of my tongue. Doug never knew how to simmer things properly. He had once burned a hole straight through one of our pots. My phone rang. An unfamiliar number. “Bridgit? This is Audrey’s mother.” “Hello.” “My daughter cried all night. She said you forced Doug to throw her out of her apartment. Let me ask you something, you two are divorced, so what right do you have to dictate where my daughter lives?” “I didn’t dictate anything. Doug paid her rent, and he was the one who told her to leave. If she has an issue, she should take it up with him.” “Don’t you dare hide behind Doug! My daughter’s relationship with him was entirely innocent! You’re just a bitter woman who wants to ruin everyone else’s life because yours fell apart!” “Ma’am, your daughter spent three years relying on a married man, living right beneath our noses while he paid her rent. If you call that innocent, we have very different definitions of the word.” “You…” “Tell her to ask Doug herself why he kicked her out. Goodbye, and take care.” I hung up and blocked the number. I finished the porridge, washed the container, and placed it back in the thermal bag before setting it outside my door. I snapped a photo of the empty bowl and sent it to him. The container is outside. He replied instantly. Was it good? You overcooked it. I’ll do better next time. There won’t be a next time. He sent back a meme, one I had made years ago of a cat holding a sign that read You are absolutely right. We used to bicker constantly during college, and I had created that meme to tease him whenever he lost an argument. He had kept it ever since. I stared at the screen for a long time, then turned the phone face down.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “522244”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 We had been together four years, yet my phone held no clear photo of Elena’s face. Each time I raised the camera, she would flinch away, claiming she was not photogenic or hated being seen online. I never pushed, keeping only a blurry sunset silhouette as our chat background. Then Brooke posted a nine-photo grid. Elena was front and center in every shot. Camping trips, music festivals, bar nights. She flashed finger hearts, pulled silly faces, laughed until her eyes crinkled. In one photo, she leaned into a man’s shoulder. In another, she beamed as he snapped a close-up of her face. No flinching. I scrolled through the gallery eleven times. The truth settled in. She did not hate photos. She just did not want me in her world. Four years, and her camera roll held everyone but me. I reset our chat background to default black and deleted the silhouette. If I did not belong in her world, I would fade from it entirely. The apartment was pitch-black when I deleted the background. The dining table was covered with food that had gone completely cold. The layer of oil over the beef stew had congealed into a white film, and the whipped cream on the mango crepe cake was beginning to melt and collapse. Next to the plates sat a brand-new, unopened Polaroid camera. Today was our fourth anniversary. I had started preparing at five in the morning. Knowing she disliked phone cameras, I thought a Polaroid might be something she’d enjoy, so I went out of my way to buy one. At seven in the evening, I texted her to ask if she could come home early. She replied, Sure. Then, silence. At nine-thirty, I finally received a brief text: Working late. Eat first, don’t wait up. I didn’t eat. I just sat at the table, scrolling through my phone until I saw Brooke’s post. Now, the cold food was sitting in the trash. The cake was thrown away, too. I stuffed the Polaroid into the bottom drawer of the hallway cabinet and wiped the table clean. It was ten minutes to midnight when the lock finally clicked. Elena walked in, her high heels clicking on the hardwood. She smelled strongly of alcohol, mixed with a heavy, woody men’s cologne. Her dress was a style I had never seen before, her makeup was more flawless than when she left the house, and her ears were flushed pink from drinking. She didn’t look like she had been working late. She glanced at the clean dining table. “Did you eat?” “Yeah.” “Sorry about tonight. The meeting ran incredibly long.” Her voice was casual, as if she were commenting on the weather. In the past, I would have teased her, asking if she was sneaking out on a secret date. She would roll her eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh: Nolan, can you stop being so paranoid? So, I had learned to keep my mouth shut. This time, I didn’t even bother to ask. As she walked past me, the foreign cologne scent grew stronger. It wasn’t her perfume, and it certainly wasn’t mine. She walked into the bathroom, and the sound of running water filled the apartment. I sat on the sofa, staring at my empty photo gallery. Four years, and my phone held absolutely nothing of her. What about her phone? She happily leaned into group photos and let others snap close-ups of her. Her digital life was filled with the entire world. Everyone except me. The water stopped running. Elena walked out, wrapping a towel around her wet hair as she crossed the living room. “Why are you still up? Just sitting in the dark?” “Go on to bed. I’ll be in shortly.” She gave a brief nod, walked into the master bedroom, and shut the door. From start to finish, she never mentioned what day it was. She didn’t notice the empty cake box stretching the trash bag, or the faint scent of vanilla still lingering in the kitchen, or the clean stovetop I had scrubbed. She never looked at this home. She never looked at me. I walked into the guest room, closed the door, and lay down on the mattress. In the quiet darkness, my mind felt incredibly clear. Two years ago, a firm in Munich had sent me a job offer. I had rejected it without a second thought because Elena was here, and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her. I pulled out my phone and dug up the old email. The recruiter’s final sentence read: If you ever change your mind, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I tapped reply and typed a single line: Is this position still available? I hit send. The next morning, before Elena left for work, she called out from the entryway. “The yogurt in the fridge is expired. Make sure you throw it out!” The front door slammed shut. I had bought those yogurts last week, driving to two different supermarkets just to find the organic brand she insisted on drinking. She hadn’t opened a single one. I took all six bottles and threw them into the trash. I wouldn’t be buying them again. Around ten in the morning, my phone buzzed. It wasn’t Elena. It was a friend request from Brooke’s boyfriend, Tyler. The note read: Tyler here, Brooke’s guy. Had a quick question for you. As soon as I accepted, he got straight to the point: Hey man, are you and Elena still together? “Four years,” I replied. A long silence followed. Tyler: Then who is Austin, the guy she was holding in the photos last night? Do you know him? “No.” Tyler: I shouldn’t stick my nose in this, but his lock screen is a selfie of Elena. A very close-up, intimate photo. He unlocked his phone in front of the entire table at dinner, and nobody seemed to find it unusual. Nobody found it unusual. That meant in their social circle, Elena and Austin were the couple. And I, her boyfriend of four years, was completely invisible. I didn’t reply to Tyler. I placed my phone face down on my desk and sat in silence for a long time. At noon, my laptop chimed. It was an email from Munich: The position is still open. Please send your updated resume, and we will arrange a virtual interview as soon as possible. I opened my files and began updating my resume. At seven in the evening, a text from Elena came through: Out with some friends tonight, won’t be home for dinner. I replied with a simple, Okay. I heated up some leftovers and sat down at the table. Halfway through my meal, my sleeve caught on the tissue box, knocking over a shopping bag Elena had left on the corner of the table. A designer box slid out, containing a charcoal-grey men’s scarf. The price tag was still attached, showing a staggering amount. Tucked into the box was a small card. It was written in her neat, rounded handwriting: Happy Birthday, Austin. I’ll keep you warm this winter. I held the card, staring at the words for a long time. Her handwriting really was beautiful. In our four years together, I had never received a single handwritten note from her. For my birthdays or Valentine’s Day, she never prepared gifts, claiming she was terrible at choosing things and found the whole process exhausting. But she had gone out of her way to pick out a luxury scarf and write a sweet card for Austin. She wasn’t bad at giving gifts. She just didn’t want to waste the effort on me. I placed the scarf and the card back into the bag, leaving it exactly where it had been. I felt no urge to confront her, not even anger. I just couldn’t finish my dinner. I washed my bowl, wiped down the counters, and cleaned the living room. I opened my resume, scrolled to the final line, hesitated for a second over the send button, and then clicked it. Elena came home around eleven, smelling of wine, her mood incredibly bright. Seeing me sitting on the sofa with my laptop, she actually walked over to take a look. “Still working this late?” I closed the laptop. “Just wrapping some things up.” She leaned against the arm of the sofa, studying my face. “Nolan, are you mad at me?” “No.” “Then why have you been so quiet the last couple of days? I told you to throw out the yogurt, and you didn’t even complain about the waste or offer to buy more. You’re never like this.” I was never like this. In the past, my entire schedule revolved around her. I did whatever she asked, and spent my energy trying to anticipate what she wanted. But she had become so accustomed to my devotion that she assumed my compliance was just a law of nature. “I’m just tired, that’s all.” She stared at me for a few seconds, her brow furrowing. “Are you throwing a silent tantrum over something stupid again? I’ve told you a thousand times…” “I’m not,” I interrupted her, my voice flat. “Really, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Go to bed.” She opened her mouth as if to say more, but I had already picked up my laptop and walked into the guest room, closing the door behind me. Through the door, I heard her mutter, “Unbelievable,” before her footsteps retreated. I didn’t turn back to comfort her like I used to. I turned off the light and lay down. My phone screen lit up with an email confirming my virtual interview for next Wednesday. I stared at the ceiling, my heart beating in a slow, steady rhythm. For the first time in four years, I wasn’t afraid of her anger. The virtual interview went exceptionally well. The hiring managers were impressed and offered me the position on the spot. My start date was set for one month from now, and their legal team would assist with my work visa. I began quietly packing my things. I found my passport in the desk drawer, noting it still had three years of validity. I took a quick trip to a photo booth for visa photos, submitted my documents, and was told the processing would take about two weeks. Elena knew nothing of my plans. But she did notice a change: I had stopped making her breakfast. For four years, I had woken up at six-thirty every morning to warm her milk, fry her eggs, and cut fresh fruit. Now, I only boiled a single bowl of oatmeal for myself. For the first two days, she stayed silent. But on the third morning, she walked out of the bedroom and saw only my empty bowl on the table. Her face immediately clouded over. “Where’s breakfast?” “I already ate.” “What about mine?” I didn’t look up as I tied my running shoes. “I’m running late today. You’ll have to make your own.” She stood frozen in the hallway, her voice rising sharply. “Nolan, how long are you going to keep up this passive-aggressive behavior? Do you have any idea how many days you’ve been freezing me out?” “I’m not freezing you out.” “Then what do you call this? No breakfast, no conversation, completely ignoring me. You’re behaving like a totally different person!” I stood up, looking her in the eye. “Elena, I made you breakfast every single morning for four years. Did you ever say thank you? Did you ever ask me what I wanted to eat, or wake up early to cook for me even once?” “You just assumed it was my job to serve you, didn’t you?” Her lips parted, but she couldn’t find any words. Finally, her frustration turned to anger, and she slammed her mug onto the counter. “You’re just bringing up old, petty complaints! You never said you minded cooking before, and now you’re using it to pick a fight!” I didn’t argue. I grabbed my gym bag and walked out of the apartment. Behind me, she screamed my name, but I didn’t turn around. That afternoon, I submitted my formal resignation at work. My manager asked for my reason, and I told him I was pursuing a personal opportunity. He tried to convince me to stay, but I remained firm. As I walked out of the office, my colleague Marcus caught up with me and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Where are you heading next, man?” “Munich.” “What? Germany? What about Elena?” I stepped into the elevator. “What about her?” On Friday night, Elena surprisingly stayed home. She was curled up on the sofa watching a talk show while I was in the guest room organizing my paperwork. Suddenly, she pushed open my door, holding a bowl of noodles. “I made this for you. Don’t say I never cook.” The noodles were overcooked and soggy, swimming in a murky broth of uncertain flavor. She stood in the doorway, her chin lifted slightly, her eyes filled with an expectant look, as if saying: I’ve made an effort, now apologize and let’s move on. I took the bowl from her. “Thanks.” I didn’t say anything else. She waited for a few seconds, her expression hardening. “Just ‘thanks’? What else do you want from me, Nolan? An apology? What exactly did I do wrong?” I took a bite of the noodles. They were incredibly salty, almost bitter. “It’s fine. The noodles are good.” “Stop brushing me off! If you have something to say, say it! I’m sick of this silent treatment!” I set the bowl down on my desk and looked at her. “Elena, you asked what I wanted from you. I’m telling you, I don’t want anything anymore.” The temperature in the room seemed to drop instantly. She stared at me, as if I had just spoken in a foreign language. “What is that supposed to mean?” “Exactly what I said. Go back to your show. Don’t worry about me.” She stared at me for a long time, her jaw clenched, before she grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut so hard the drywall trembled. A moment later, she turned the volume of the television up to the maximum. The noise was deafening. I put on my noise-canceling headphones and continued filling out my visa application. By the fifth day of our cold war, Elena still had no intention of speaking to me. As she walked through the living room on her way out the door that morning, she saw me eating instant ramen. She paused, her lips moving slightly, but she ultimately turned and walked out without a word. She likely believed this fight would play out like every other fight we’d had. She assumed that in another day or two, I would break, buy her favorite pastries, apologize, and sweep everything under the rug. She had four years of experience to back up that assumption. She was entirely confident. I spent the afternoon packing the last of my belongings into a suitcase. My visa paperwork was complete, and my passport and contract were tucked into the inner compartment of my bag. At the bottom of my desk drawer, I found a stack of movie ticket stubs. I had saved every single one, planning to make a collage out of them eventually. But as I flipped through them, I realized there wasn’t a single pair of adjacent seat numbers. Because she had never gone to the movies with me. She always claimed she couldn’t stand being trapped in a dark theater for two hours. Yet, Brooke had posted a photo of Elena and Austin sharing a bucket of popcorn at a theater just last month. I swept the entire stack of stubs into the trash can. Everything was packed. That evening, Elena came home carrying a paper bag. She walked into the living room and tossed it onto the coffee table. “I passed by that place you like and got you the teriyaki beef bowl.” It was the first sentence she had spoken to me in five days. In the past, I would have been incredibly touched, viewing it as her way of apologizing. I looked at the bag. It was indeed from the restaurant I had frequented for four years. But then I noticed the order slip stapled to the paper. It read: Mild. I only ate extra spicy. Four years together, and she didn’t even know how I liked my food. “I already ate.” Her hand paused on the bag. She turned to look at me, her eyes narrowing into a glare. “What did you eat?” “Just made some simple food here.” She stared at me, her chest rising and falling quickly, before she threw the bag back onto the table. “Nolan, what exactly is your problem? I am throwing you a bone here, do I have to spell it out for you?” I set my water glass down. “What bone?” “I bought you dinner! I’m the one initiating the conversation! What more do you want? An apology? Fine, I’m sorry! Is that what you wanted to hear?” Her apology carried no warmth, only resentment. Her tone made it clear she felt she had made a massive concession, and that I was being incredibly ungrateful. I looked at her. “What are you apologizing for?” “You don’t even know what you did wrong, so why are you apologizing?” She opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. Finally, her eyes welled with tears of frustration, and she shouted, “Then tell me! Tell me what I did wrong! You just sit there in silence, how am I supposed to know what you want?” There was so much I could have said. I could have thrown Brooke’s photos in her face. I could have asked who she was drinking with on our anniversary. I could have asked why I was the only person she hid from her camera. I could have asked if she knew Austin used her photo as his lock screen. But as the words reached my throat, they lost all meaning. What would be the point? She would just call me dramatic, accuse me of bringing up old issues, and tell me I was being insecure. And then, nothing would change. “It’s nothing. It’s late, I’m going to sleep.” “Nolan!” I walked into the guest room and locked the door. My phone screen showed the confirmation email for my one-way ticket to Munich. My flight was on Wednesday afternoon. Two days from now. On Tuesday, Elena stayed home all day. She sat on the sofa, occasionally glancing toward the guest room, likely waiting for me to finally break the silence. I stayed in my room, wrapping up the final details of my packing. Around six in the evening, the doorbell rang. I happened to walk out of the guest room to get a glass of water, and both Elena and I looked toward the door. She didn’t move, so I went to answer it. It was my friend, Ben. He was holding a paper bag, looking past me into the apartment. When he saw Elena sitting on the sofa, he hesitated. I shook my head slightly. Understanding the silent cue, Ben stayed in the entryway, keeping his voice low. “Here are the European power adapters and converters you asked for. The voltage is different over there, so you’ll need these the second you land.” I took the bag. “Thanks, man.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. “And this is the address of an international grocery market in Munich. You’re going to get sick of the local food fast, so this should help keep you alive.” He patted my shoulder, offering a small, encouraging smile. “Two years isn’t that long, man. Once you get settled in, send us a message so we know you made it safely.” The background noise of the television seemed to vanish from the room. The show was still playing, but all the warmth and energy was sucked out of the apartment. Ben immediately sensed the sudden, suffocating tension. His smile faltered, and his eyes drifted over my shoulder toward the living room. I didn’t turn around, but I could feel Elena’s gaze burning into my back. Ben cleared his throat, taking a step back toward the hallway. “Right… well, I should head out. Safe travels, man.” He turned and hurried down the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the corridor. The front door was still open, letting in the pale light of the hallway lamp. The silence stretched on for so long that I assumed she wasn’t going to say anything. Then, a voice sounded from behind me. It was incredibly soft, almost fragile. “Nolan.” She had walked up behind me, stopping a few feet away. I turned around. She was staring at my face, her lips parting slightly. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked. “Are you… leaving?”

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1 After a car accident, Shane developed a rare memory distortion. He forgot me but believed Dana, his longtime admirer, was his ten-year girlfriend. He doted on her while treating me like a desperate stalker. I exhausted myself trying to reach him, clinging to the fact that he was alive. One afternoon, I overheard him speaking with Justin in the stairwell. When Justin worried I would leave if I found out, Shane laughed it off. He admitted Dana was dying and confessed the crash and amnesia were staged to grant her final wish. He planned to blame a medical anomaly later and claim his memory returned. I stood frozen at the top of the stairs, a bitter smile forming. All my sleepless nights researching specialists for his condition had been wasted. I had been trying to cure a lie. I forced my trembling legs to carry me down the stairs. Without a second thought, I tossed the thermal container of chicken broth, which I had simmered on low heat for five hours, straight into the trash can. Ever since Shane’s accident, I had been running myself ragged, trying to show up in his life at every turn, praying he would look at me and remember. I had even swallowed my secular pride and knelt at a local temple, praying to a god I didn’t believe in. And all the while, I was nothing but a nuisance to him, a shameless woman who didn’t know her place. I never imagined the truth could be so ugly. No wonder he had flatly refused to step foot in my hospital’s neurology department. He was simply terrified of being exposed. I wanted to storm back into the stairwell and scream at him, but my pager buzzed. An emergency craniotomy was waiting for me. Pushing my grief aside, I threw on my scrubs and rushed into the operating room. By the time I finally emerged hours later, drained and exhausted, I opened my phone to find a new post on Shane’s social media feed. The caption read: Saying “I love you” at the very peak of the world. In the photo, he and Dana were leaning their heads together, their hands joined to form a perfect heart against the backdrop of a glowing Ferris wheel. Both of them were beaming. I tilted my head back, blinking rapidly to keep the hot tears from falling. Years ago, during our university days, our class had organized a trip to an amusement park. I had begged Shane to ride the Ferris wheel with me, bringing up the old legend that couples who kiss at the very top would stay together forever. He had scoffed, telling me it was a childish, stupid superstition. “We’re graduating medical school, Nora. Leave the fairy tales to the kids.” It turned out he didn’t hate the Ferris wheel. He just hated the idea of riding it with me. I let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh, tapped the “like” button on the post, and shoved my phone back into my pocket. Seconds later, a text from Shane flashed across my screen. Unfriend me. My girlfriend is uncomfortable with you being on my list. I stared at the screen, my chest tightening until I could barely breathe. The tears finally spilled over, hot and relentless. What a fiercely protective, perfect boyfriend he was. Dana was two years younger than us. She had fallen for Shane the moment she arrived on campus as a freshman. She was bold, loud, and entirely unapologetic about her feelings. Every day, she showered him with snacks, coffee, and endless flirtatious messages. Back then, I had been deeply hurt by her persistence and asked Shane to block her. I still remembered the arrogant, mocking look on his face. “Nora, can you please have a little faith in your boyfriend? I know where the boundary is. Blocking someone over something so trivial is just childish.” I wiped the tears from my screen and slowly typed a single word: Okay. When I tried to send it, a glaring red exclamation mark appeared. He had already blocked me. I changed out of my scrubs and walked straight to the chief of surgery’s office. “Director Cole, is the spot for the fellowship in London still open? I want to take it.” Director Cole looked up, clearly taken aback. “I thought you wanted to stay here to oversee your boyfriend’s rehabilitation?” I offered a tight, empty smile. “Plans change. Like you always say, a young doctor should put her career first.” 2 Three days later, our former class president, Luke, was getting married. The invitation had arrived months ago, making it impossible to avoid. The thought of facing Shane made my stomach churn, but I couldn’t skip the wedding. I arrived just as the ceremony was about to start, hoping to slip in unnoticed, but fate had other plans. The only vacant seat at the medical school table was directly next to Shane. I took my seat, forcing my face into a mask of pure indifference, though my mind was screaming with the memory of his betrayal. Our former classmates looked back and forth between Dana, who was clinging to Shane’s left arm, and me. Their eyes practically begged for an explanation. “Shane had an accident recently,” I said, keeping my voice light and professional to spare them the awkwardness. “In his mind, Dana is his girlfriend now.” Shane wrapped his arm around Dana’s waist, his voice cold and devoid of any warmth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dana has always been my girlfriend.” A heavy, sympathetic silence settled over the table. Fortunately, the wedding march began, saving us from further conversation. As the newlyweds exchanged rings, one of our more outspoken classmates let out a soft sigh. “Man, I really thought Nora and Shane would be the first of our class to walk down the aisle. I mean, ten years…” Before he could finish, another classmate kicked him sharply under the table. Realizing his blunder, the guy tried to pivot, looking at me with an apologetic grin. “Well, Nora, since you’re single now, how about giving me a chance?” I knew he was just trying to break the tension, so I offered a polite smile and stayed quiet. But Shane suddenly let out a sharp, mocking scoff. “Some people certainly move on quickly. Just a few days ago, you were dropping off homemade broth at my apartment, and now you’re already hunting for your next target. Pathetic.” “At least I’m not a fraud,” I shot back, my voice cutting through the noise of the room. “Playing house with a fake reality is what’s truly pathetic.” Shane’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of panic crossing his features before he fell silent. The atmosphere at the table turned suffocatingly tense. Seeing the shift, Dana tightened her grip on Shane’s arm, shaking it gently. “Shane, don’t be so hard on Nora. It’s my fault anyway. It’s only natural she’s bitter.” “You don’t owe her anything,” Shane murmured, his gaze entirely avoiding mine as he picked up a shrimp and began peeling it for her. My chest ached. In the early days of our relationship, he used to do that for me too. But as the years went on, he grew tired of the little things. The last time I had asked him to peel a shrimp for me, he had snapped. “Do you not have hands, Nora? If you want to eat, peel it yourself. If not, don’t eat.” It turned out he hadn’t grown tired of the gesture. He had just grown tired of me. My throat burned with unshed tears. To keep from breaking down in front of everyone, I pushed my chair back and excused myself to the restroom. After splash of cold water on my face, I composed myself and walked out, only to find Dana blocking the corridor. Her face was twisted into a smug, victorious grin. “Nora, Shane belongs to me now. Do us both a favor and stop showing your face around him.” “Then you should have kept him at home today,” I replied coldly. “These are my friends and my colleagues. I am not abandoning my life for a man.” I looked at her, thinking of Shane’s words: Dana is dying. Looking at her vibrant, spiteful face, she didn’t look like someone on the brink of death. Still, as a doctor, I knew how cruel terminal illnesses could be. Despite my dislike for her, I didn’t want to engage with a dying patient. I took a step to bypass her. But Dana suddenly glanced over my shoulder, a sudden, vicious gleam flashing in her eyes. Without warning, she raised her hand and slapped herself hard across the cheek, then began violently tearing at her own hair. “Nora, please! I’m sorry! I know it’s my fault, but I truly love him!” I stared at her in utter disbelief. Before I could process the sheer absurdity of her performance, a furious, familiar voice shattered the air. 3 “Nora! What the hell are you doing?” Shane came running down the hall. He pushed me aside to cradle Dana, glaring at me with eyes full of pure hatred. “Nora, who gave you the right to lay a hand on my girlfriend?” The realization of Dana’s trap hit me. It was a scene straight out of a cheap soap opera, but it was happening to me. Anger flared hot in my chest. “You honestly think I hit her?” I turned to Dana, my voice dripping with ice. “Did I touch you?” Dana shrank back into Shane’s chest, trembling like a frightened rabbit. “No, Shane, she didn’t… it’s fine.” “Nora, apologize to her right now,” Shane snarled. I looked at him, feeling a profound, deep-seated disgust. Without another word, I turned to leave. But Shane lunged forward, grabbing my arm in a tight grip. “Are you deaf, Nora? Is saying sorry that difficult for you?” “It’s not,” I said, my voice eerily calm as I looked down at his hand, then up at Dana. “I’m only going to ask you one last time, Dana. Did I slap you?” Dana whimpered, burying her face in his shoulder. “Shane, please just let it go. She only did it because she still loves you. I don’t mind.” So she was going to play the victim to the end. A cold smile touched my lips. I yanked my arm out of Shane’s grasp, took two swift steps toward Dana, and delivered a swift, resounding slap across her face. The crack echoed down the empty hallway. “Now, I’ve actually hit you,” I said, my voice steady. “And for this, I will apologize. I am sorry.” Dana gasped, clutching her reddening cheek, her eyes wide with genuine shock and fury. Losing his mind with rage, Shane lunged at me, shoving me violently away from her. “Nora, you’ve completely lost your mind! Do you have any idea what she is going through?” “I don’t care,” I said, cutting him off. “I refuse to apologize for things I didn’t do. Now that the crime matches the punishment, we’re even. Get out of my way.” “You arrogant bitch,” Shane roared. Before I could react, he kicked me hard in the back of my knee. My leg buckled, and I went flying forward. As I fell, my instinct was to put my right hand out to break my fall. There was a sickening, loud crack. An excruciating, blinding white pain shot up my arm, and I gasped, collapsing onto the cold tile floor. At that exact moment, Olivia, our classmate from the OB-GYN department, stepped into the hallway. She gasped, immediately rushing over to kneel beside me. “Nora! Shane, what the hell is wrong with you two?” The moment she touched my arm, a scream of agony escaped my lips. “Don’t touch it, Olivia. I think my right wrist is broken.” Olivia’s face drained of color. Shane, however, let out a harsh, dry laugh. “Cut the act, Nora. You slap someone and then fake an injury just to get out of an apology? You’re pathetic.” Olivia glared up at him, her voice trembling with anger. “How can you speak to her like that? Shane, whatever lies you’ve bought into, she was your partner for ten years! How could you do this to her?” Shane looked slightly unsettled, but he quickly pulled Dana close. “I don’t care about the past. Dana is my only priority.” Olivia shook her head in disgust. “You’re going to regret this, Shane. I promise you.” 4 Olivia immediately posted in our class group chat, letting everyone know that we were heading to the hospital because my wrist was broken. The chat exploded with worried messages. “What happened? How did she break her wrist?” “Oh my god, is it serious? Nora is a neurosurgeon, her hands are her entire life!” Amidst the sea of concern, Shane’s message was a jarring, toxic stain. Dr. Vance is certainly talented. Creating a fake injury just to avoid apologizing for assaulting my girlfriend. I hope the lie was worth it, because if you ruin your own hands over a stunt, you’ll never hold a scalpel again. An hour later, a furious Olivia uploaded my X-ray directly to the group chat. @Shane, is this the fake injury you were talking about? You absolute bastard. You’ve destroyed her career. How are you any different from a murderer? Shane replied with a mocking emoji. The two of you are doctors. Faking an X-ray report is as easy as drinking water for you. Olivia was practically shaking with rage as she stared at her phone. “He’s completely lost his mind.” Are you serious, Shane? Faking a medical record is a career-ending offense. Nobody would risk that. So Nora’s wrist is actually broken? Can she still perform surgery after this? I closed the app, the silence of the hospital room settling over me like a heavy shroud. The orthopedic specialist walked in, his expression solemn. “Nora, I won’t lie to you. It’s a severe Smith’s fracture with significant nerve damage. We can get you back to normal daily function, but as for the fine motor skills required for neurosurgery, it’s highly unlikely you’ll ever operate again.” I leaned my head against the cold hospital pillow, feeling completely hollow. I didn’t regret slapping Dana. My only regret was ever loving Shane. The door clicked open, and the one person I despised most walked in. Shane stood by the edge of my bed, his eyes red and swollen. He looked at my heavily bandaged arm, his voice trembling as he spoke. “Nora… I’m so sorry. I didn’t think… I didn’t know it was this bad.” “Get out,” I whispered, turning my face toward the wall. He stood there for a long time, sighing in heavy, guilt-ridden silence, before finally slipping away to buy breakfast. The moment the door closed, another visitor stepped inside.

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1 Gavin and his childhood best friend, Vicky, had always been at each other’s throats, neither ever willing to give an inch. On our wedding day, determined to ruin Gavin’s life, she paid a group of men to assault me on my way to the venue. Then, she arranged for the video of my torment to be played on the giant screens during the reception. In the hospital room, Gavin’s eyes were bloodshot with rage. He clenched his fists, preparing to storm out of the room. “She couldn’t beat me, so she took it out on you! Grace, wait for me here. I’m going to rip her skin off today!” But thirty minutes after he left, his iPad on the bedside table lit up, syncing his incoming text messages. The top pinned contact was Vicky. The screen filled with a series of sickening messages that instantly made my throat go dry. Vicky: Using the excuse of settling scores just to pin me against the wall and kiss me? Is that how you stand up for your poor little girlfriend? Vicky: But the way your eyes were red, like you wanted to eat me alive… it was completely addictive. Gavin: Grace is innocent. She’s sacrificed so much for me. I really love her, Vicky. We can’t keep making these mistakes. Vicky: Fine. Then I’m going to spend the night at my boyfriend’s place. Gavin: Don’t you dare. Go to our usual spot and wait for me. Gavin: As for Grace, I’ll take care of her for the rest of her life. I don’t want to hurt her, but I… I can’t seem to kick my addiction to you. The screen went black. I gripped the edge of my blanket, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip until I tasted copper. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. I quickly shoved the iPad back under my pillow, picked up my phone, and dialed 911. The door to the room swung open. Gavin walked in, carrying a plastic takeout container. The moment his eyes landed on the numbers on my screen, he lunged forward, snatching the phone from my hands and tapping the red end-call button. “Grace, what are you doing? You can’t call the police!” My voice was ice. “Give me my phone. I want Vicky in prison.” “Have you even thought this through?” Gavin wrapped his arms tightly around me, holding me against his chest. “Once a case is opened, every detail of what happened to you will be put on public record. Those videos will be played in court over and over as evidence!” “The media will find out. The public will find out. Everyone will look at you with pity and disgust! I can’t let you go through that kind of trauma!” “But she hired men to assault me!” I pushed him away with all my strength. “I did nothing wrong. Why should I be the one hiding in the dark? I want her to pay!” Gavin dropped to his knees by the bedside, grasping my wrists. “Leave it to me, please. I’ve already punished her severely.” “I promise you, I will make her life a living hell. Just trust me, okay?” I stared at his desperate face, suddenly feeling like I was looking at a complete stranger. During our junior year of college, on my birthday, Vicky had intentionally poured a full glass of red wine down the front of my white dress. Gavin had stood up instantly, flipping the heavy wooden table. Plates and glasses shattered across the restaurant floor. “Vicky, are you out of your mind?” he had screamed. When Vicky claimed it was an accident, Gavin grabbed a bottle of beer from the neighboring table and poured it directly over her head. “My hand slipped too. Get the hell out of here.” He had smashed the empty bottle on the floor. From that day on, I truly believed he would always protect me. “Did you actually fight her?” I asked quietly. Gavin buried his face in the crook of my neck, his shoulders trembling as he avoided the question. “Grace, as long as I’m alive, I will never let anyone hurt you again. Let’s not involve the police. Let me handle this.” I looked down, about to speak, when a scent drifted into my nose. It was a faint, crisp aroma of lemon sea salt. Vicky only wore one brand of perfume, and that was her signature scent. My eyes drifted down to his collar. Tucked beneath his slightly open shirt was a dark, fresh red mark. “What’s that on your neck?” Gavin’s hand flew to his throat. His entire body went rigid. He quickly pulled his collar up to cover the mark. “A scratch from when I was dealing with Vicky earlier.” “A scratch? Or a hickey?” Gavin’s expression turned defensive and strained. “Grace, what are you implying? You’re just too stressed right now. You’re letting your imagination run wild.” He stood up, walking over to the table to open the plastic container. “I went across town to get you that hot chicken broth you love. You haven’t eaten all day. Have some warm soup first.” He blew on a spoonful of broth and held it to my lips. The scent of lemon sea salt washed over me again. I shoved his hand away. The soup spilled across the sheets as I leaned over the edge of the bed, dry-heaving violently. Gavin reached out to pat my back, but I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me!” “Okay, okay, I won’t touch you.” Gavin backed away, raising his hands in retreat. “Take it easy, honey. I’ll go get the doctor to check on you.” He turned and practically fled from the room. For a moment, I had actually believed he was protecting me from public scrutiny. But the mark on his neck and the text messages on the iPad made the truth sickeningly clear. He didn’t want me to call the police because he wanted to protect Vicky. For the next two weeks, Gavin never left my side. He washed my face, fed me my meals, and stayed awake through the night. Whenever I tossed and turned in my sleep, he would instantly sit up, hold my hand, and whisper, “Don’t be scared, honey. I’m right here.” During her morning rounds, the nurse smiled at me. “Your husband is so incredibly devoted. Every time I check on you during my night shifts, he hasn’t closed his eyes once.” I looked at Gavin. “Yes, he’s always been this good to me.” I remembered the morning we got our marriage license. Gavin had just put on his suit when Vicky called, claiming her stomach was cramping so badly she was rolling on the floor, begging him to drive her to the emergency room. Gavin had barked into the phone, “If you’re sick, dial 911! I’m getting married today. I wouldn’t come to you even if the sky collapsed!” He had blocked her number right in front of me, taken my hand, and walked out the door. I used to think a man like that would love me forever. “Gavin, I want to call the police,” I said, bringing it up once more. The spoon in Gavin’s hand paused. “Why are you bringing this up again?” He sat on the edge of my bed. “I told you, I’ve already dealt with her.” “I can’t let it go.” Gavin raised his hand and suddenly slapped himself hard across the face. The sound was deafening in the quiet room. Then, he slapped himself again on the other cheek. “It’s all my fault!” He continued to strike his own face, left and right. “I failed to protect you! I’m useless!” Bright red marks quickly bloomed across his cheeks. “Grace, do you really want to rip open your wounds and show them to the entire world? Hit me instead. Use me to get your anger out. Just don’t call the police, please. I am begging you.” I pulled my hands back, staying silent. Gavin sank to the floor, covering his face as he sobbed. At eight that evening, Gavin’s phone rang. “It’s the office. I need to take this outside,” he said, stepping out of the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, I sat up and pulled his backup phone from the bedside drawer. I unlocked it and opened his ride-sharing app history from our wedding day. That morning, Gavin had told me there was an emergency with the venue decorations and that he had to head over early, instructing me to take a different car. But the ride history showed his pickup from our apartment complex, and his destination wasn’t the hotel. It was Vicky’s apartment. Next, I opened his synced messages with Vicky. Vicky: You have to keep Grace quiet. Do not let her call the cops under any circumstances! Vicky: Don’t forget, half the cash used to pay off those thugs came from your credit card. If she goes to the police, you’re going down as an accomplice! Gavin: I’m staying by her side. She trusts me completely. She won’t call the police. Vicky: Then when are you coming over to see me? Gavin: As soon as she falls asleep. My chest heaved, my fingers trembling so badly I could barely hold the device. He had abandoned me in my wedding dress to go to Vicky’s bed. He was the one who had funded my assault. I carefully placed the phone back into the drawer. The door opened, and Gavin walked back in. “Honey, why aren’t you sleeping yet?” “I was just about to. If work is busy, you don’t have to stay here with me.” “That’s out of the question. I’ve already taken leave. Once you’re discharged, I’ll take you on a nice trip to help you clear your head.” Gavin stroked my hair gently. “Okay. Let’s get discharged tomorrow then.” I just wanted to get away from him. When we returned to our apartment the next day, all the red wedding decorations had been stripped from the walls, replaced with neutral cream curtains and carpets. Gavin poured me a glass of warm water, then tapped on his phone. My phone buzzed with a bank notification. He had transferred two thousand dollars into my account. “Grace, take this money. Go buy yourself some new clothes or jewelry. From now on, I’ll hand over my entire paycheck to you every month.” Gavin sat down beside me. “Keep it. I don’t need it.” I went to transfer the money back, but he stopped me. “Please keep it. I just want to make things up to you.” Just then, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Gavin’s brow furrowed. He stood up and went to open it. Vicky was standing in the hallway, wearing a tight, bright red slip dress. “Well, look at that. I heard Grace was finally out of the hospital, so I thought I’d drop by and pay my respects.” Vicky craned her neck, trying to peer into the living room. Gavin blocked her view, his face turning dark. “What are you doing here? Get the hell out!” “Why are you standing in the doorway, Gavin?” Vicky let out a soft laugh. “Scared she’ll lose her mind if she sees me?” Gavin grabbed Vicky’s wrist, dragging her forcefully away from the door, before slamming it shut behind them. They were accomplices, yet they were putting on this elaborate show of hatred in front of me. I wanted to see how they acted when they thought I wasn’t looking. I stood up silently, walked to the door, and pressed my eye against the peephole. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway were bright. Vicky threw Gavin’s hand off her, shoving her finger hard against his chest. “What’s with the attitude, Gavin?” Vicky whispered, her voice sharp. “Are you actually feeling guilty now that you’ve seen her pathetic state?” Gavin grabbed her finger, pulling it away. “I told you to leave her alone!” Vicky let out a cold sneer. “Don’t forget, you were the one who provided the escape money for those guys! If she goes to the police and they catch them, we both go to prison!” “In fact, maybe I should just walk in right now and tell her exactly where you were on our wedding morning…” Vicky reached for the doorknob. “Shut up!” Gavin grabbed her arm, pulling her back and pinning her violently against the white wall of the corridor. He leaned down, pressing his lips hard against hers. Vicky pushed weakly against his chest once or twice, then wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Right outside my door, they lose themselves in a passionate, desperate embrace. Gavin’s hand slipped beneath the hem of her red dress. I let go of the doorknob and took two steps back. I had no desire to watch this garbage anymore. I sat down, took out my phone, and dialed my grandmother’s number. “Grandma? Are you home?” “Yes, sweetie. What’s wrong? Why are you calling this late?” her warm voice drifted through the line. “I want to come home.” “Is Gavin coming with you?” “No, just me. I’m resigning from my job here, Grandma. I want to move back and live with you permanently.” “Of course, honey. I’ll get your room ready for you.” After hanging up, I booked an intercity bus ticket for three days later. For the next three days, I never mentioned Vicky, and I never brought up the police. Every morning, I got up early to cook Gavin breakfast, and every evening, I ironed his shirts and hung them neatly in the closet. Gavin smiled at me over dinner. “Honey, I’m so glad you’ve finally moved past it. Let’s just focus on our life together and leave the past behind us.” I nodded slowly. “Eat your dinner before it gets cold.” On my final night, I sat on the living room sofa. My phone screen lit up with a video message from an unknown number. I opened the file. The video was taken in a hotel room. Gavin was lying on the bed with his eyes closed. “Gavin, who makes you feel better? Me, or Grace?” Vicky’s voice came from behind the camera. Without opening his eyes, Gavin rolled over and pulled her into his arms. “Why bring her up now? She’s like a log in bed, completely lifeless. She doesn’t have half your fire. Stop talking and come here.” Vicky giggled at the lens before placing the phone face-down on the nightstand. The screen went dark, but the muffled, explicit sounds continued to play. A text message followed immediately from the same number. See that, Grace? Your husband already thinks of you as damaged goods. He’s in my bed every single day. He’s coming over tonight, too. Want to come watch? I stared at the screen, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. The kitchen faucet turned off. Gavin wiped his hands on a towel and walked out. He glanced at his phone, then walked into the bedroom to grab his coat. “Grace, a major bug just crashed the company servers. The manager wants me in the office immediately. Go to sleep early, don’t wait up for me.” “Going out this late?” I asked from the sofa. “Yeah, that’s just how the tech industry is.” Gavin walked to the door, stepping into his shoes. He walked back to the sofa, leaned down, and kissed my forehead. “Be a good girl and wait for me to come home.” The lock clicked shut. As his footsteps faded down the hall, I didn’t hesitate. I packed my suitcase, grabbed my coat, and headed straight to the bus station. At eleven-thirty that night, Gavin unlocked the front door, carrying a bag of takeout. The apartment was pitch black. “Grace, I’m home! I brought you those grilled skewers you like…” Gavin flicked the light switch. The living room was empty. His smile faltered. He walked quickly into the bedroom. “Grace?” The bed was empty, the sheets folded neatly. He pulled open the sliding closet doors. My side of the closet was completely bare. He ran into the bathroom. Half of the toiletries on the counter were gone. He rushed back to the living room, and his eyes landed on the coffee table. Sitting there was his promise ring, alongside the credit card he had given me. Owen pulled out his phone, his hands shaking as he dialed my number. The cold, robotic voice of the operator filled the quiet apartment. We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again. Gavin hung up and redialed. We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service…

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Three months after I finally walked away from my wealthy benefactor. I accidentally charged a box of ultra-thin condoms to his linked card. He sent a single, sharp text: Is he better than me? I ignored it. But that very night, when I returned to my hotel room on a business trip, a tall, imposing silhouette blocked my path. The man who was supposed to be a thousand miles away. Marcus stood before me, looking windswept and lethal. In bed, he was merciless, driving me to the brink of madness. As I completely fell apart under him, he nipped at my earlobe, his voice low and dangerous. “Does he make you feel like this too?” I bit my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Deep down, a foolish spark of joy flared at his jealousy. Until the storm subsided, the lust fading from his dark eyes. “Kelly, I’m getting married,” he said, cold and detached. “This is the last time.” 1 I froze. The words felt like a bucket of ice water poured directly over my head. A deep, numbing chill seeped from my scalp down to my toes. Marcus rolled off the bed. A moment later, the sharp hiss of the shower echoed from the bathroom. I lay motionless on the tangled sheets. The harsh glare of the ceiling light made my eyes burn. I couldn’t even remember how we had broken up three months ago. I only remembered the massive argument, the suffocating silence, and how I had impulsively thrown the word over in his face. He hadn’t tried to soothe me. He hadn’t even asked why. He had only looked at me with those cool, unreadable eyes and asked, “Are you sure about this?” I had nodded. Then, without another word, I packed my bags and took a long-term assignment in Chicago. I thought putting distance between us would help clear the lingering fog of heartbreak. I was wrong. For three months, I buried myself in endless work, trying to numb my own mind. Yet the moment the noise quieted down, his image would flood my thoughts, relentless and agonizing. So today, in a moment of pure, desperate madness at a convenience store, I swiped the joint credit card he had never deactivated. I bought a box of ultra-thin condoms. I wanted to see if he still cared. And he had come. He had caught a last-minute flight and driven through the night just to corner me in my hotel room. For a brief, naive moment, I believed we were going to make up. But after the passion cleared, he gave me a death sentence: he was getting married. 2 When Marcus stepped out of the bathroom, he wore nothing but a low-slung towel around his waist. The lean, powerful muscles of his back and shoulders glistened under the dim yellow lights. He walked over to the bed, looking down at my motionless, curled-up form, and let out a soft frown. “Go wash up.” I dragged myself up mechanically, my legs trembling so violently I could barely stand. Before I could fall, he stepped forward, scooped me up effortlessly in his arms, and carried me into the bathroom. It was just like the countless times before. He squeezed the body wash into his palm, rubbing his hands together until a thick lather formed. Then, he gently washed every inch of my skin. His touch was unbelievably tender, as if he were handling a piece of priceless, fragile porcelain. But my chest throbbed so hard I could barely breathe. He rinsed the soap away, shut off the water, and wrapped me in a plush towel. He didn’t say a single word through it all. I stood there, swallowed by the fabric, watching him walk toward the door. “Congratulations.” The word escaped my throat, raspy and hollow. Marcus paused. He turned his head slightly. His brow furrowed, as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “What did you say?” “Congratulations on your wedding.” I forced my lips to curve into a fragile, pathetic smile. Marcus stared at me for several long seconds, his gaze dark and unreadable. “Get some sleep,” he finally said. “I’ll book another room next door.” I was used to it. He was an incredibly light sleeper and hated sharing a bed through the night. Over the past few years, no matter how exhausted I was after we made love, I would always quietly gather my things and retreat to the guest bedroom. 3 By the time I woke up the next morning, bright sunlight was already streaming through the window. I checked my phone: 9:30 AM. There were three unread texts from my colleagues at the media network. “Kelly, where are you?” “Today’s the day the executive director announces your promotion to lead producer!” My heart leaped into my throat. I threw the phone onto the bed and rushed to get ready. Marcus had kept me up until three in the morning, and the ensuing insomnia had stolen another two hours of sleep. My entire body felt as though it had been run over by a semi-truck. I practically threw myself down the stairs and ran out of the lobby, only to stop dead in my tracks. A sleek black Maybach was idling right at the hotel entrance. The window rolled down smoothly, revealing Marcus in the driver’s seat. He wore a charcoal-gray dress shirt today, the sleeves rolled up carelessly to his forearms, exposing the firm, corded muscles of his wrists. He glanced at me. “Get in. I’ll drive you.” My instinct was to refuse. But he had already reached over and popped the passenger door open. After a second of agonizing hesitation, I climbed in. As I pulled the seatbelt across my chest, I deliberately kept my eyes glued to the side. “Just drop me off near the broadcasting station.” He didn’t answer, simply shifting the car into drive. We rode in absolute silence. The only sound was the faint, steady hum of the air conditioner. I stared out the window, watching the city skyline blur past. As the familiar glass facade of the media building came into view, two traffic lights away, I spoke up. “You can pull over right ahead.” Marcus glanced at the road, his speed unchanging. “We’re not there yet.” “I don’t need to be dropped off at the front doors,” I said, biting my inner cheek. “Today is my promotion day. I don’t want people spreading rumors.” He went quiet for a moment. Then, he smoothly brought the car to a halt by the curb. I pushed the door open and forced a polite, professional tone. “Thank you, Mr. Mercer.” Marcus frowned, his eyes darkening. “I prefer it when you call me Marcus.” “You’re getting married. It’s not appropriate anymore.” He didn’t say another word. He simply checked his mirror, hit the gas, and left me in a cloud of exhaust. 4 Fortunately, I wasn’t late. The moment I walked into the station, several colleagues rushed over to congratulate me. “Congrats, Kelly!” “You have to buy us coffee once the official announcement is made!” I smiled warmly. “I’ll do you one better. Dinner is on me.” The bullpen was lively and full of chatter until an assistant tapped my shoulder, telling me the executive director wanted to see me in his office. My chest swelled with excitement as I walked down the corridor. Five years of relentless grinding in this cutthroat city. I was finally going to secure my place. But that short-lived thrill died the moment I stepped inside the director’s office. “Kelly, after a board review, we’ve decided that starting today, Seraphina will take full charge of the Late Night Finance program.” “We’d like you to assist her with the transition.” I stood frozen, my voice trembling. “I’ve built that program from the ground up. Why is it suddenly being handed over to a newcomer who literally just joined the network?” When I first took over Late Night Finance, it was the lowest-rated slot on the network. I had poured my soul into it, turning it into our flagship program. The director gave me a look of mild, patronizing pity. “It’s a decision from the top, Kelly.” Seeing that I wasn’t backing down, he decided to lay his cards on the table. “Seraphina brought a twelve-million-dollar sponsorship package with her.” “That single deal covers our advertising targets for the next decade. If you were in my shoes, who would you choose?” I leaned against the wall, my head spinning. The door clicked open behind me. A young woman dressed in an immaculate designer blazer stepped in. She was strikingly beautiful. She extended a manicured hand. “Hi, I’m Seraphina.” I recognized her instantly. She was Marcus’s childhood sweetheart, the girl who had just returned from Europe. His fiancée. All the scattered pieces in my head snapped into a cruel, perfect picture. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was behind that twelve-million-dollar sponsorship. A bitter, quiet laugh escaped my throat. A couple of years ago, to secure a much smaller sponsorship for my show, I had practically begged Marcus for months just to get a one-million-dollar deal. I had been profoundly grateful for it. Yet for Seraphina, he had signed away twelve million without batting an eye. Twelve million versus one million. I guess I truly was only worth a fraction of her in his eyes. Or maybe, I didn’t even register on his scale at all. 5 I went straight to Marcus’s corporate headquarters. The receptionist recognized me and bypassed security, letting me straight into his private office. Marcus was sitting behind a massive mahogany desk, reviewing a stack of documents. He didn’t even bother to look up. “Something on your mind?” My throat tightened, and I struggled to hold back the tears stinging my eyes. My voice cracked. “There are dozens of slots at the network. Why did you have to let her take mine?” Only then did Marcus raise his eyes. His gaze was entirely flat, devoid of any warmth. “Because she wanted it.” I stared at him, utterly paralyzed. Because she wanted it. With a single sentence, he justified throwing millions of dollars around to clear her path. Because she wanted it, he could effortlessly erase five years of my sweat, tears, and sleepless nights. He knew better than anyone what I had sacrificed for that show. During our peak season, I had worked myself to the point of physical collapse, ending up in the ICU with severe exhaustion. Tears spilled over my cheeks. “Marcus, that’s not fair!” “Kelly,” he interrupted, his tone chillingly level. He set his pen down and leaned back in his leather chair. “If I remember correctly, there were three candidates when you interviewed for that associate position years ago.” “The other two had Ivy League degrees and prestigious journalism backgrounds.” “Do you know why a state-college graduate with zero media experience like you got hired?” While I stood there in stunned silence, he delivered the final blow. “Because I made a one-million-dollar donation to the network, on the sole condition that they hire you.” Marcus stared at me as if I were a minor investment that had run its course. “Kelly, there is no such thing as absolute fairness in this world.” “When you reach my level, then you can come talk to me about fairness.” The blood drained from my face, leaving me cold and hollow. So that was the truth. On the day I received my offer letter, I had sat in my cramped, drafty apartment and cried tears of pure joy, believing my hard work had finally paid off. But it had all been a lie. I don’t remember how I stumbled out of his office. His words felt like a physical assault, stripping away the last shreds of my dignity. I was utterly humiliated, with nowhere left to hide. 6 When I first met Marcus, I was just a struggling, desperate intern. It was at a high-stakes networking dinner. After a few rounds of drinks, the atmosphere in the private dining room grew thick and predatory. The senior producer sitting next to me let his hand slide under the table, his fingers creeping toward my thigh. My body went rigid with terror. I tried to pull away, but I didn’t dare make a scene and ruin the network’s deal. Choking back my tears, I threw a desperate, pleading look at my team leader, the man who was supposed to be mentoring me. He blinked, registered what was happening, and promptly looked away. That was when Marcus, who had barely spoken a word all night, abruptly stood up. He walked over, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me out of my seat. Looking down at my tear-streaked face, he said, “Crying in front of these wolves won’t save you, little girl.” Then, he wrapped his large, warm hand over mine, picking up a heavy glass bottle from the table. A flash of pure, dangerous intent crossed his handsome features. With a sudden, violent motion, he forced my hand down, smashing the bottle squarely over the producer’s head. The crash was deafening. The producer collapsed to the floor, groaning in pain. The room fell into a stunned, breathless silence. Marcus looked down at me, his voice steady and low. “Only this works. Understand?” I stared up at him, completely captivated by the intensity in his dark eyes. The chaotic noise of the room faded into nothing. All I could hear was the frantic, thumping beat of my own heart. So when we met again in the elevator bank weeks later, and he asked me in that cool, detached voice: “Your name is Kelly, right? Are you open to a strictly physical arrangement?” I didn’t hesitate. My life had been a bleak, colorless struggle up to that point. I had never encountered anyone so brilliant, powerful, and utterly mesmerizing. In that moment, my body answered for me. I nodded. From that day on, every encounter ended with a generous transfer to my account, alongside an endless stream of designer bags and jewelry.

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1 My boyfriend’s childhood best friend, Hailey, was hopelessly clueless when it came to love. To protect her, Paul had practically turned himself into a relationship guru, an expert at spotting toxic men. Giving her the silent treatment? Dump him. Refusing to post her on social media? Dump him. Counting pennies and acting cheap? Dump him. Every time Hailey got her heart broken, Paul was right there by her side, comforting her with gentle words, whispering that the next one would be better. On our sixth anniversary, Hailey showed up at our place again, her eyes red and swollen. “Paul, my new boyfriend has this girl best friend he grew up with.” “He never remembers what I like to eat. Whenever we go out, he only orders the dishes she likes.” “He stays up all night helping her with her work projects, and he even drives across town in the pouring rain just to pick her up.” “And yesterday, he promised to spend my birthday with me, but she called him, and he just left. He abandoned me.” “Tell me, Paul, does he even love me?” Paul frowned as he listened, his eyes softening with deep pity as he gently stroked Hailey’s hair. “Hailey, break up with him.” “Men know men best. He has no boundaries, and he is trying to have his cake and eat it too. He doesn’t deserve you.” My chest tightened, a dull ache spreading through my ribs. For six long years, Paul had openly, blatantly favored Hailey. Every time I got upset about it, he would give me a cold look and tell me I was overthinking, that I was being paranoid. But it turned out he understood the concept of boundaries perfectly. He knew exactly what was inappropriate. Perhaps I should take the advice Paul just gave. Perhaps it was time to end this off-track relationship. Hailey nodded trustingly, wiping her tears. “Paul, I’ll do whatever you say.” Right there, she called her boyfriend, coldly announced the breakup, and immediately blocked and deleted his number. Paul pinched her cheek with a fond, indulgent smile. “That’s my girl. Don’t waste your time or energy on trash like him.” “What do you want to do today? I’m all yours.” Hailey smiled through her tears, playfully wrapping her arms around Paul’s bicep. “Let’s go see that new movie that just came out!” Paul didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his phone and booked the tickets right away. Watching their easy, intimate interaction, my heart sank into a cold, dark place. Paul never bothered to keep his distance from Hailey when I was around. Whenever I expressed how uncomfortable it made me, all I got was his cold, defensive lecturing. “Nora, can you please stop being so insecure?” “Hailey and I grew up together. She’s practically my sister. Am I supposed to just cut her out of my life because I’m dating you?” I had always been left speechless, forcing myself to swallow the bitterness and pretend to be broad-minded. But now, the truth was glaring. He knew his behavior was crossing the line; he just didn’t care enough about my feelings to stop. As the two of them got up to leave, I lightly tapped my knuckles on the table, my voice calm and even. “Paul, you forgot. We’re supposed to sign the lease with the landlord in an hour.” Three days ago, Paul had found a beautiful, spacious loft downtown. The owner was in a rush to relocate and had dropped the price significantly. Paul had paid the deposit on the spot. When he came home, he had held me tight, his eyes bright with excitement as he promised me a future. “Nora, once we sign the contract, we can start decorating. We’ll paint the walls in that soft cream tone you love, and you can pick out all the furniture. We’ll even set up a nursery for our future baby. We’re going to be so happy.” He had painted such a beautiful picture. Now, I realized it was nothing but sandcastles in the wind. Sure enough, Paul’s brow furrowed in irritation. “We can sign a contract anytime, Nora. Hailey just got her heart broken. What could possibly be more important than being there for her right now?” I fell silent, staring at him. My silence only seemed to make him more annoyed. “Are you seriously throwing a tantrum right now? Nora, be mature. Hailey is practically your sister too. Why can’t you just put yourself in her shoes for once?” I cut him off, my voice devoid of emotion. “Fine. Go ahead. I’ll head back first.” I didn’t wait for his reply. I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked out. It was always like this. Whenever Hailey was involved, Paul would abandon me without a second thought. Compared to their deep, unbreakable bond, I was nothing but an intrusive stranger. I was tired of playing a supporting role in their twisted little drama. When I got home, I locked myself in the study and focused entirely on my work. The sky outside turned from a dusty orange to a deep, heavy black. Around dinner time, my phone buzzed. It was a long text from Paul. “Nora, go to the grocery store and pick up the ingredients for that pasta Hailey likes. We’re going to a karaoke bar to help her blow off some steam, so I’ll be home late.” I stared at the screen for a moment, then locked my phone without replying. Paul didn’t ask if I had eaten. He didn’t ask how I was doing. Every single word was about Hailey. Anyone looking at his phone would think she was the one he was dating. It was nearly midnight when Paul finally returned, practically carrying a heavily intoxicated Hailey. I walked out of the study, leaning against the doorframe as I watched him gently lay her down on the sofa, carefully feeding her warm honey water. Once she was settled, Paul wiped the sweat from his forehead and opened the fridge. He froze, then turned to me, his face tightening with displeasure. “Where are the groceries I asked you to get?” I cracked open a can of iced cola and took a slow sip. “I didn’t buy them.” “Paul, I am not your maid.” Paul’s jaw clenched, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “Nora, you know Hailey is going through a rough time. Do you really have to pick tonight of all nights to pick a fight with me?” I didn’t bother arguing. I turned around and went back into the study, locking the door behind me. The apartment fell quiet for a short while, but soon, the clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen. Paul was preparing Hailey’s lunch box for work the next day. A year ago, Hailey had food poisoning from a cheap takeout place and ended up in the hospital on an IV drip for three days. Since then, Paul had insisted on cooking fresh, balanced, and organic meals for her every single night so she could take them to the office. He made sure she had a different menu every day of the week. He had been doing this religiously for three years. Yet, when I had a high fever last winter and begged him to make me a simple bowl of soup, he had told me to just order delivery because cooking was too much hassle. I took a deep breath, forcing the memories out of my head. A soft knock sounded at the study door. Paul’s voice through the wood was much softer now, laced with a rare hint of guilt. “Nora, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have bailed on you for the lease. Let’s go sign it next Sunday, okay? I’ll make sure to bring your anniversary gift then, too.” I didn’t answer. Every time we fought over Hailey, he would eventually come to me with a half-hearted apology, offering a tiny olive branch. And every single time, I had accepted it, stepping down from the pedestal of my own self-respect. But today, I was done pretending. Suddenly, a loud, violent retching sound came from the living room. Hailey had thrown up all over the plush white sofa. The sharp, sour stench of vomit quickly filled the apartment. I covered my nose, my patience completely evaporating. I opened the door and looked at Paul coldly. “Hailey is not staying here tonight. Get her out and take her back to her own place.” Paul’s face went instantly dark. “Nora, I already apologized! Why do you have to be so malicious toward Hailey? Does it kill you to see me show her a little bit of basic human decency?” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. This apartment was bought entirely by my parents as a pre-marital asset for me. Yet, Paul treated it like a second home for Hailey. Her favorite stuffed animals sat on my couch, her expensive skincare products lined my bathroom shelves, and Paul had even stuffed two sets of her pajamas into my closet. This home was saturated with her existence. Paul stared at me, his jaw set stubbornly. “I’m not leaving her alone like this. She’s staying here tonight so I can keep an eye on her.” A wave of profound exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t say another word. I walked back into the master bedroom and shut the door with a firm click. Paul didn’t follow me. In the quiet darkness of the room, I pulled out my phone. I booked a one-way ticket out of the country, and then I listed my apartment on a local real estate website for rent. I was done wasting my youth on this dead-end relationship. A clean break was the only way out. The next morning, when I walked out of the bedroom, the living room floor had been thoroughly scrubbed and the couch covers had been replaced with fresh ones. Hailey was sitting at the dining table, waving at me with a sweet, innocent smile. “Morning, Nora! Come have some breakfast. I’m so sorry for the mess I made last night!” Paul, who had been smiling warmly at Hailey a second before, instantly masked his face with a cold, indifferent expression the moment he saw me. He pushed a plate of pancakes and bacon toward me without looking at me, then turned back to Hailey. “Grab your bag, sweetie. I’ll drive you to the office.” I didn’t touch the food. I looked directly at Paul and said, “Paul, let’s break up.” The car keys in Paul’s hand slipped, clattering loudly against the hardwood floor. His brows knitted together in a fierce scowl, his voice trembling with rising anger. “Nora, are you serious? Is this game ever going to end?” “You’ve been acting completely irrational since yesterday, and now you’re throwing around the word ‘breakup’ like it’s a joke. What exactly do you want from me?” My voice was flat, empty of any anger or pain. “I don’t want anything. I just realized this relationship has become completely pointless.” Paul and I worked at the same firm, but Hailey’s office was in the exact opposite direction. Yet, every single morning, Paul would leave an hour early to drive across town, pick Hailey up, and drop her off at her office before coming to work. When I had suggested she take the subway, Paul had snapped at me. “Hailey likes to sleep in. She can’t handle the morning rush on transit. It’s safer and easier if I just drive her.” In the four years Paul and I had worked at the same company, we had never commuted to work together once. I had tolerated it for far too long. Now, the weight was finally lifting. Hailey stood beside him, her bottom lip trembling as her eyes welled up with tears. “Nora, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have ruined your anniversary, and I shouldn’t have kept taking Paul away from you.” “Please don’t break up because of me. I promise I’ll stay away. I won’t get in between you two ever again.” She began to sob, her shoulders shaking pitifully. Paul’s heart visibly broke for her. He pulled her behind him, shielding her from my gaze, and wiped her tears with his thumb. When he looked back at me, his eyes were cold and sharp as daggers. “Hailey, this has nothing to do with you.” “When someone is determined to be bitter and cruel, nothing you do will ever be good enough for them.” Paul scooped up his keys from the floor, grabbed Hailey’s hand, and walked out of the apartment without looking back. It was a scene I had witnessed dozens of times. Every time Paul and I had a disagreement, Hailey would play the martyr with her tears and apologies, and Paul would inevitably take her side, convinced I was the villain. I had never won against Hailey. But the good news was, I didn’t have to compete anymore. The apartment grew blissfully quiet. I had no appetite, so I grabbed my bag and headed straight to the office. When Paul walked into the office later that morning, a faint trace of Hailey’s sweet, floral perfume drifted off his clothes. He didn’t bring me my usual morning coffee, nor did he leave any snacks on my desk. He walked past me with his chin up, treating me like a stranger. Even our colleagues noticed the icy atmosphere, exchanging subtle, curious glances. I ignored them all, keeping my head down and focusing on my reports. After lunch, Paul blocked my path in the quiet stairwell. He grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight and erratic, his eyes filled with a strange, defensive hurt. “Nora, do you really have to do this?” “You haven’t said a single word to me all morning, and you went out of your way to avoid me at lunch.” “I know I was harsh this morning, but you can’t keep using a breakup to punish me. What do you want me to do? Just tell me!” A small ripple of emotion stirred in my chest, but it was quickly snuffed out by cold, hard logic. Paul cared about me, yes. But his care was a fragile, conditional thing. The moment Hailey whistled, his love for me vanished into thin air. I reached up and firmly pushed his hands off my shoulders, looking him dead in the eye. “Paul, let me ask you a question.” “When Hailey’s boyfriend prioritized his female friend, you immediately saw through him. You said he had no boundaries, that he wanted to have his cake and eat it too.” “So why is it that when you do the exact same thing to me, you think it’s perfectly fine?” “You told Hailey to break up with him because he was trash. Weren’t you actually telling me that breaking up with you is the only logical choice I have?” Paul froze, the color draining from his face until he looked ghostly pale. His lips parted, but no sound came out. “Nora, I…” I offered him a small, polite smile, not caring to hear whatever excuse he was about to concoct. I turned on my heel and walked back to my desk. I used to think Paul was just oblivious, that I was being overly sensitive. But seeing how fiercely he defended Hailey’s boundaries made me realize how foolish I had been. He understood everything. He just chose not to apply those rules to me. As soon as the clock struck five, I grabbed my coat to leave. Paul stepped in front of my desk, his expression soft and pleading. “Nora, please. Just give me one more chance. Let’s grab dinner and talk this through. Please.” Unable to withstand his desperate begging, I finally relented and followed him to a nearby Italian restaurant. Paul reverted to the boy I had fallen in love with years ago. He pulled out my chair, poured my water, ordered my favorite dishes, and kept a steady supply of napkins near my hand. During the meal, he looked at me with absolute sincerity. “Nora, I spent the whole afternoon thinking.” “I know I’ve crossed the line, and I’ve been incredibly selfish. Hailey is just a childhood friend, nothing more. You are the woman I love.” “From now on, I promise I will put you first. Your feelings will always be my priority. I will never make you feel second best again.” Looking into his earnest eyes, a tiny fracture of hesitation formed in my resolve. I opened my mouth, about to speak, when his phone began to vibrate violently on the table. The caller ID flashed: “Princess Hailey.” Paul answered it instantly. From the receiver, Hailey’s hysterical sobbing echoed loudly through the quiet restaurant. “Paul… my ex is here at my office. He’s cornered me… I’m so scared, please help me…” The call abruptly disconnected with a loud crash. Paul bolted upright, his face pale with terror. I sat there, watching him silently. Realizing how terrible he looked, Paul grabbed my hand, his grip tight and desperate. “Nora, just this once. This is the last time, I swear. We grew up together. I can’t just let her get hurt.” I let out a long, quiet sigh. “Let’s go. I’ll come with you.” No matter how much I disliked Hailey’s role in my relationship, I wasn’t a monster. If she was in actual physical danger, I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. Paul drove like a maniac, weaving through traffic and running yellow lights. When we arrived at Hailey’s office building, a crowd had already gathered near the lobby. Hailey’s ex-boyfriend, Marcus, was red-faced and screaming, his hand clamped tightly around Hailey’s hair as he dragged her backward. “You think you can just dump me? Who the hell do you think you are, Hailey? I dump people, nobody dumps me!” Paul’s eyes went wild. He let go of my hand, balled his fists, and charged into the crowd, slamming Marcus into the glass doors. The lobby erupted into chaos. People were screaming, security guards were running, and someone was shouting to call the police. I stood at the edge of the crowd, watching Paul fight. He was taking punches to the face, his lip split and bleeding, but he refused to let go of Marcus, throwing wild, vicious blows to protect Hailey. During our university days, Paul had always been a quiet, gentle scholar. He detested violence and had never raised his hand against anyone. Even when I was harassed by a drunk guy at a bar years ago, Paul had calmly pulled me away and comforted me, choosing peace over conflict. He had never fought for me like this. This raw, animalistic protectiveness was something he reserved solely for Hailey. Eventually, security and bystanders managed to pull the two men apart. Marcus slipped away into the night, nursing a broken nose. Hailey immediately threw her arms around Paul’s waist, burying her face in his chest, shaking like a leaf. Paul wrapped his arms around her tightly, resting his chin on her head. His face was bruised and bloodied, but his eyes were filled with a tenderness so deep it made my stomach churn. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. You’re safe.” I stood outside the circle, watching them. The distance between Paul and me felt wider than an ocean. I remembered how our friends used to tease them back in college. “Why do you even bother looking for a boyfriend, Hailey? Paul is basically your knight in shining armor.” Hailey would blush furiously, while Paul would laugh it off. “Stop talking nonsense. Nora is my girlfriend, she’s the only one for me.” But his actions had always painted a different picture. I didn’t wait for them to notice me. I turned around and walked out into the cool night air. Paul didn’t come home that night. Around 2:00 AM, he sent me a brief text. “Nora, Hailey is traumatized. I’m staying at her place tonight to make sure she’s safe. Please understand.” I didn’t reply. Instead, I grabbed several cardboard boxes and began packing. I packed every single article of clothing, every shoe, every book, and every personal item belonging to Paul and Hailey that was scattered across my apartment. Before I went to bed, my phone buzzed again. It was a message from Hailey. It was a photo. In the dimly lit apartment, Hailey was leaning up, her eyes closed as she pressed her lips against Paul’s. Paul’s face was flushed red, but his hand was resting firmly on her waist, holding her close. Along with the photo was a text: “Nora, to be honest, I’ve always loved Paul.” “I broke up with Marcus just to prove a point, to show you who Paul actually cares about when the stakes are high.” “When are you finally going to get the hint and give him back to me?” I calmly took a screenshot of the message, saved it to my drive, and turned off my phone. The next morning, I called a local courier service to pick up all the heavy boxes and deliver them to Hailey’s address. … Paul opened the door to Hailey’s apartment, his eyes widening in confusion as he saw the stack of heavy cardboard boxes blocking the hallway. The courier driver held up a clipboard, his voice thoroughly bored. “Mr. Paul? These packages were sent by a Ms. Nora.” “It’s cash on delivery. Please scan this code to pay the courier fee.” Across the side of the top box, written in bold, permanent black marker, was a single, devastating word: OVER. It was Nora’s handwriting. Paul’s head began to spin, the blood rushing to his ears with a deafening roar.

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