Category: English

The day Silas Peyton and I had planned to move to the same city, I couldn’t make it. He might never understand how, after just a quick trip back home to pack, I vanished without a trace. A few days later, I called him. The moment he picked up, his voice was sharp and accusing: “Evie Langston, were you planning a cliff-edge breakup?” I glanced around at the cold, unyielding concrete walls and forced myself to say what I didn’t mean. “Yeah, I’m heading to Europe soon to live a better life.” “Let’s not contact each other again.” Content Five years later, I was making ends meet by running a stall at the Blue Ridge Night Bazaar in Asheville. By night, I painted nails for tourists and sold handmade trinkets on the side. That evening, a drizzle started. The woman running the neighboring stall began packing up and called out to me, “Evie, it’s raining. Why aren’t you heading home?” I gave her a bitter smile and shook my head. I hadn’t made a single sale all day. Going home empty-handed didn’t sit right. She tried to console me. “Girl, this isn’t how you earn a living. You’ve barely eaten today—you can’t keep treating yourself like this.” Before she could finish, two people stopped in front of my stall—a couple who looked like they’d stepped straight out of a magazine. “Hey, how much for a manicure?” The girl’s voice was sugary sweet as she idly flipped through the nail designs. I instinctively lowered my head, wiped off the chair for her, and introduced myself eagerly, “Basic designs are $50, more intricate ones are $100. And if you like, I can give you a free plush toy—handmade by me.” She barely glanced at me, pointing at a trendy seasonal design. “This one. Forget the plush toy—I don’t trust unlicensed crafts.” The man beside her raised the umbrella higher over her head, his voice teasing and indulgent. “Only you would think of getting your nails done in the rain.” My hand, reaching for tools, froze. That voice—I hadn’t heard it in years, but I’d never forget it. Silas Peyton. I stole a glance at him and saw how he’d changed. He was leaner, sharper, and even more handsome. My heart twisted like fallen leaves caught in a fierce wind. I pressed down on the girl’s hand and forced myself to focus, mechanically tracing the design she wanted. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Silas pull out a chair and sit down, still holding the umbrella over her. My mind drifted back to our college days. Whenever it rained, he’d wait for me outside the dorms, tilting the umbrella to shield me more than himself. But that devotion no longer belonged to me. Now, he stood beside another woman, shielding her from the elements and giving her his undivided attention. “Wait—wipe it off,” the girl suddenly said, pulling her hand back to inspect her nails. “Miss, is… something wrong?” I asked nervously. She frowned, shaking her head. “Your hands—they’re rough. It feels like they’re full of thorns.” “How are you supposed to do manicures with hands like that? Don’t you know anything about marketing?” For the first time, I noticed my cracked, calloused fingers, worn from years of stitching and mending. My face burned, and my chest tightened with shame. Silas chuckled lightly, tousling her hair, and pulled out his wallet. “Could you clean it off for her? Keep the money.” Then, his gaze finally fell on me. That one look made him freeze, his hand gripping the cash mid-motion. I watched as his expression hardened, his facial muscles twitching. Those once gentle, mesmerizing eyes were now filled with bitterness. The girl, oblivious, began wiping her fingers with disinfectant wipes. She turned to him and asked, “What’s wrong? Do you know her?” He suddenly laughed, pulling out a few more bills and tossing them at me. “No. Just felt sorry for her.” “Think of it as charity for a beggar. Let’s go.” Those words felt like claws digging into my chest. He’d recognized me—at my lowest.

What Silas Peyton didn’t know was that this wasn’t my lowest point. The year we graduated, we had agreed to move to the same city. Before leaving, I returned to my mother’s house to pack. What greeted me there was a nightmare. My stepfather had my mom pinned to the ground, one hand holding her head down, the other raining punches. When he saw me, he didn’t stop. If anything, he hit harder. “You worthless leech! Just like your daughter—useless and filthy. You live off my money, but when it’s time to serve me, you refuse? I’ll beat you to death!” My mother’s wails and his curses blended into a cacophony that shattered my sanity. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I charged at him and pushed him away. But I was no match for him. Within seconds, he’d recovered and slapped me across the face. My mom scrambled up and clung to his legs. “Please, stop! Don’t hurt her. She’ll make money—she’ll help you.” The mention of money made him even angrier. He shoved her aside and wrapped his hands around my neck. At that moment, I thought I was going to die. In desperation, my hand found a fruit knife on the table. Without thinking, I plunged it into his chest. At barely twenty, I had taken a life. The day I awaited sentencing, I called Silas. His first words were angry: “How could you do this to me?” I wiped the tears streaming down my face and, for the first time, forced myself to sound cold and disdainful. “Silas Peyton, listen. In a few days, I’ll be in Europe living my best life.” “Only a fool would stick with someone like you.” My lies were enough to crush him, who had nothing back then. His voice trembled as he warned me not to regret it before hanging up. I was sentenced to five years for manslaughter. My mom hanged herself a week later. From that moment, I lost not just my freedom but also my mother. Regret consumed me, but it was too late. Silas Peyton was perfect, the kind of man no one could ever replace. And I—my carefully built inner fortress had crumbled into ruins. I was no longer worthy of him. Never would be. When I was released, no company would hire me. I managed to find a job delivering food, but once my record was discovered, even my kind boss turned cold. “You stupid girl! Don’t you know they’ll investigate and come down on me? Get out—now!” Who would’ve thought a graduate from a prestigious college would end up unqualified even to deliver takeout? Eventually, I survived by selling crafts I’d learned in prison, working from dawn until dusk just to make ends meet. The money Silas threw at me today was almost what I earned in a month. But I didn’t want it. That money hitting me felt more painful than a slap across the face. Later that night, I got a call from my college roommate, Madison Vance. She was the only person I’d stayed in touch with after my release. “Evie, I’m getting married next month. Silas will be there—my dad’s working with him, and I can’t avoid it.” “But you have to come. We promised back in college, remember?” I glanced at the money I hadn’t returned, steadying my voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” “I have something I need to give back to him anyway.” It’s time to return it. And let go.

Madison Vance’s wedding was held at her father’s hotel, the Vance Regency Hotel in Manhattan. It was my first time back in this city in over five years. Even though I’d been out of prison and reintegrating into society for half a year, crowds still made me feel uneasy. “Evie, don’t be so tense,” Madison said, giving my shoulder a reassuring pat. I forced a dry smile and gestured for her to go ahead and tend to her guests. Once everyone had taken their seats, I realized I’d been placed at a table with my old college classmates. None of them recognized me. Silas Peyton arrived with the same beautiful woman I’d seen at the Blue Ridge Night Bazaar. Their entrance caused an immediate stir. “Well, well, looks like Mr. Peyton might be tying the knot soon,” someone teased. Silas didn’t deny it, confidently holding the woman’s hand as they walked. Glancing briefly in my direction, he nodded with a smile. “That’s right. When Serena and I get married, I hope everyone here will join us to celebrate.” So, her name was Serena Cross. I kept my head down, wishing I could disappear into the floor. My only strategy was to make myself as invisible as possible. But Serena noticed me. “Hey! Aren’t you the girl who did my nails that day?” Her voice carried, and every pair of eyes at the table turned to me. Finally, someone exclaimed, “You’re… Evelyn Langston, right?” I nodded slightly, still avoiding eye contact. The recognition set off a wave of murmurs. “It is her! But what happened to you? You used to be so gorgeous. Now you look… malnourished.” I forced a weak smile, not knowing how to respond. One of Silas’s friends, who had always been close to him, smirked and added, “Wow, the campus beauty queen fell pretty far. Guess karma caught up with you. No one’s heard a word from you for years—we thought maybe you didn’t survive the pandemic.” The comments stung, but I could bear it. After all, compared to the abuse I endured in prison, this was nothing. Besides, this was Madison’s wedding. I wouldn’t let anything ruin it. I focused on my plate, quietly eating while ignoring the conversation around me. Silas chuckled, serving Serena another bite of food. “Ms. Langston, is American cuisine too plain for someone who’s been living abroad?” I chewed my last bite mechanically, set my fork down gently, and stood. “Enjoy your meals, everyone. I have to go.” I spoke with my eyes fixed on the empty space above their heads. At a table full of people, I couldn’t find a single pair of eyes willing to meet mine. I left in a hurry, without saying goodbye to Madison or returning the money I owed Silas. But before I could step out of the hotel, Silas intercepted me. Somehow, he’d taken a different route and was already waiting at the door. Without warning, he grabbed my arm and dragged me to a secluded corner. His expression was dark, like a brewing storm. “Evelyn Langston, what’s the deal? Weren’t you supposed to be living it up in Europe? What are you doing back here?” I stood there, tongue-tied, his words like barbs caught in my throat. “This is your karma for dumping me, isn’t it?” he spat, his voice rising. “Are you jealous? Look at me now—I’m wealthy, successful, and my girlfriend is beautiful and sweet.” “The best part? She loves me. She’d never abandon me like you did. You’re the one who got left behind!” Years of pent-up anger exploded like a dam bursting, his words hitting me like tidal waves, leaving me gasping for air. Just then, Madison appeared, out of breath and stepping protectively between us. “Silas, what’s wrong with you? Do you even know what Evie—” “Madison!” I interrupted sharply, cutting her off. I shoved the money I’d been holding into Silas’s hand, then grabbed Madison and walked away. He didn’t need to know. Some truths are better left buried.

That night, Madison called me. “Evie, stop hiding in that little market. Come work at my dad’s hotel.” I hesitated, feeling a mix of apprehension and disbelief. “Are you sure? I don’t want to cause any trouble.” Madison dismissed my concerns. “It’s fine! Just a temporary job as a guest room attendant. You won’t have to deal with people much, and you’ll make way more than you do selling plush toys.” For once, I decided to take a chance. On my third day, there was a birthday party being held in the main hall. It had nothing to do with me—until my manager called me down to help serve drinks. When I entered the hall, I froze. The party was for Silas Peyton. I’d completely forgotten. The place was packed with college friends and influential people he’d befriended in Manhattan. I scanned the room, desperate to spot Madison. I wanted nothing more than to stay out of sight. “What are you staring at? You’re here to work, not gawk!” barked the floor supervisor. She shoved a tray of drinks into my hands and pointed to the main table. “Hurry up! They’ve been waiting.” Before I could protest, she pushed me forward. Like a zombie, I carried the tray toward the crowd. As I approached the main table, Serena suddenly turned, bumping into my arm. The tray slipped, crashing to the floor. Glasses shattered, and wine splattered everywhere—right onto Serena’s expensive heels and dress. “Seriously? Are you blind?” she snapped. “I’m sorry.” My apology was automatic as I fumbled to clean up the mess. Serena wasn’t satisfied. “Sorry? Do you have any idea how much these shoes cost? Get down and clean them properly!” I hesitated, glancing at Silas. His brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing. That was answer enough. He wasn’t going to step in. “Hello? Are you deaf? Is this how your staff handles mistakes?” Serena pressed. Fine. I pulled out a handkerchief, knelt down, and began wiping her shoes. I could feel the weight of every gaze in the room pressing down on me. Before I was done, Serena let out a cold laugh. “Ladies and gentlemen, doesn’t this face look familiar? Anyone know where our dear Evelyn Langston has been all these years?” My mind went blank. She planned this. Her voice dripped with mockery. “Evelyn, should I tell everyone where you disappeared to, or would you like the honor?” I finally understood—she’d dug into my past. For reasons I couldn’t fathom, she was determined to expose me. The crowd buzzed with whispers, like a swarm of flies. I looked up, meeting Serena’s triumphant gaze. At that moment, I felt like a cornered animal, surrounded by predators waiting for me to crumble. If I was going to fall, I’d do it on my own terms. Straightening up, I turned to the crowd. My voice was steady. “No need. I’ll tell them myself.” “Years ago, I killed someone. I spent those missing years in prison.” The truth wasn’t for them. It was for me. All I wanted was to live without hiding. “What did you say?” Silas shot to his feet, staring at me in disbelief. His eyes burned with intensity, like a fire that couldn’t be extinguished.

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Today is my 18th birthday. My parents forgot, but my online boyfriend sent me a gift. A nightgown with very little fabric. He sent me a voice message, “Baby, come to the hotel and wear it for daddy, hehe.” My name is Linda. I’m 18 years old this year. Is it reasonable to receive a uniform from my online boyfriend on my coming-of-age day? After all, my parents divorced when I was young. I lived with my mother after she remarried, and my mother and stepfather had another child. I’m just an invisible nobody who doesn’t get any attention. My mother’s neglect and my stepfather’s favoritism made me timid and reluctant to speak. Being so lonely and insecure, with no family or friends caring about me, my boyfriend naturally became my whole life. My relationship with my boyfriend Jason was simple. Long-term lack of love, plus the pressure of senior year studies, made me turn to the internet as an escape and a way to act out. The online world is vast and carefree. There, I didn’t have to do anything to have many people care about and sympathize with me. Especially in this private chat room that was very popular. Although some people there said things that were a bit over the line. Like “Little sister, how old are you? Have you had a boyfriend? I like young and tender girls the most.” “What’s wrong, little sister? Are you lonely? Don’t worry, tell big brother where you are, and I’ll come give you a hug right away!” “Sister, I’m a good guy, can you show me your photo?” And so on. These people are really disgusting. I could even imagine all those lewd faces behind the phone screens. Of course, I wouldn’t talk to these creepy people. I had my eye on someone else. “What’s wrong? Did you come here because something unhappy happened? I have a lot of time. If it’s convenient for you, we can chat.” Such a simple sentence, yet it had been absent from my life for the past dozen years. Are you happy? No one cared if I was happy or not, let alone ask. Only he did! This stranger, with just a simple sentence, touched my heart. Am I unhappy? I didn’t reply. His messages continued. “Don’t worry, this is the internet. We’re all strangers here. You can tell me your troubles and sorrows. I won’t know who you really are. I’ll just comfort you, and I absolutely won’t bother you.” That’s right. He doesn’t know who I am. I don’t need to worry or be afraid. I can pour out my heart and vent freely. My mother’s unfairness, my stepfather’s coldness, the pressure from school, the uncertainty of the future… “My parents divorced. I live with my mom. She had another daughter, and I’m no longer her favorite baby… I feel so alone.” I said a lot. He was very attentive, replying to every sentence I said. “That’s so pitiful. Every person is a living being and has the right to enjoy love.” He was also very gentle, comforting me and giving me hope. “If you were my friend in real life, I would definitely give you a comforting hug.” I received long-lost warmth, even if it was from a stranger. Chatting is indeed a good way to pass time. We talked for so long that time quietly slipped by. I hadn’t eaten all day. My stomach was growling. When I looked up, I realized it was already dark. I had to end this pleasant conversation. “I have to go,” I told him. His reply was quick. “So soon? Although we’ve only known each other for a day, I feel like we’ve known each other for a long time. Knowing how hard your life is, I’m sorry I can’t do anything for you.” He sent a sad emoji afterwards and asked to add me on SnapChat. Looking at our chat history and how he cared for me, this was exactly what I had been praying for but couldn’t get. Having finally obtained it, I didn’t want it to just disappear. So, I agreed to add him on SnapChat. He told me his name was Jason, and if I ever felt unhappy about anything, I could always find him. At first, I didn’t pay much attention. After all, people need to learn self-control, so I almost never reached out to him. But he often came to find me. He never missed sending good morning, good afternoon, and good night messages every day. The questions he asked most frequently were: Did you eat enough today? Are you happy? Is there anything you’re unhappy about that you’re hiding from me? Gradually, I started to get used to his presence. At that time, he was like a big brother caring for me, and I enjoyed the emotional value he brought me. Then, he confessed his feelings to me. I still remember what he said when he confessed. “Linda, do you know? From the first time we chatted, I marveled at the wonder of fate. From your words, I could see that you are my destiny!” Of course, I didn’t believe it. “You haven’t even seen me. How can you say I’m your destiny?” My words didn’t discourage him. On the contrary, his care for me became more meticulous, and he was more attentive in everything. That’s when I realized that “destiny” doesn’t necessarily have to be between two people who have met in person. Because I seemed to be gradually falling for him too. That day, after I finished showering, I didn’t reply to his messages for a long time. When I opened my phone, I found over twenty unread messages. “Linda, why aren’t you replying? When you don’t reply, my whole heart is uneasy. I’m worried about you!” “Linda, I’ve realized I love you to the point of no return. Even if I don’t hear from you for three seconds, I feel uncomfortable all over!” “Linda, what are you doing? Have you forgotten about me?” No one had ever put me in such an important position before. The emptiness in my heart seemed to be filled. The corners of my mouth turned up involuntarily. I told him I was just taking a shower. He sent an embarrassed emoji. “Linda, we’ve been talking for so long, and I’ve fallen for you so hopelessly. Can you fulfill one wish for me? Can you show me your photo?” I thought for a moment. “No.” Although we had been chatting for a long time, I actually didn’t know much about him. Most of the time, our topics were about me. He sent a very hurt emoji. “Not knowing what the person I love looks like is too cruel for me.” I was moved. After thinking for a while, I still chose a pretty good photo and sent it to him. “Oh my god! This is exactly what my dream girl looks like! Linda! You’re so beautiful! Linda, just looking at your photo, I’m already imagining what it would be like for us to get married and have children! I want to be with you, be with you forever, and build a happy family with you!” “If we have a child, I will definitely pay extra attention to them. I will never let what happened to you happen to them!” “My baby has been through so much. If I could, I really want to fly to your side and give you a comforting hug!” Just a few simple lines of text made me blush. My grades weren’t good, and college was already out of reach. Although this thought was a bit shameful – I really wanted to have my own family and a man who loved me wholeheartedly. Jason’s existence made me feel “happy” for the first time. Moreover, he said he would treat our children well. He wouldn’t let my tragedy happen to them. Jason was really a warm person. He was worthy of my expectations and aspirations. After that, Jason became even more attentive to me. Although I had never seen him, he had appeared in every corner of my life. Even if we didn’t chat for just an hour, I couldn’t help but think about him. Slowly, he offered to send me gifts. After asking for my name, contact information, address, and school information, I received many small accessories and pretty clothes. Girls are always happy to receive gifts, and I was no exception. Mom didn’t care about me. I hadn’t bought new clothes since freshman year of high school. I felt that Jason treated me better than my own mother. So, I agreed to be Jason’s girlfriend. On the night I agreed to be his girlfriend, my phone kept ringing. Dozens of confession messages from him made my heart sweet. “Linda, can you send me another photo? I love you so much! You finally agreed to be with me! You’re my first love. I want to fall asleep holding your photo!” I blushed. After all, his way of expressing love was too direct and intense. I gave him one. But he didn’t seem satisfied. His message came a few seconds later. “Linda, the photos you send always only show your face. I want to know you better. Can I see other parts? I can’t not know what my girlfriend’s figure is like, right?” I asked him what part he wanted to see. “Can I see your legs?” He sent a pleading emoji. Although legs aren’t a private part, it still felt strangely embarrassing. I said no. Jason’s message came very quickly. I could feel his anxiety from his words. “We’re boyfriend and girlfriend now. What’s wrong with seeing your legs? Don’t worry Linda, I don’t have any other intentions. I just want to get to know you better.” To be fair, he had indeed been very good to me, and I had been chatting with him for over half a year. He had never said or done anything that made me uncomfortable. Maybe he really just wanted to know me better when he asked for photos of my legs? He was so good to me, yet I wouldn’t even let him know what my figure was like. This did seem a bit unreasonable. So, I sent a photo of myself wearing shorts. Long, slender white thighs stood straight, with the girl in the photo making a “peace” sign. “My baby is so beautiful! What a great figure!” His compliments made my heart bloom. I sent an embarrassed emoji with a smile. The next day, I received another package from him. It was an even sexier mini skirt. “My baby’s legs are so beautiful, you must wear the prettiest skirt to match them!” At his request, I put it on and took a photo for him. Once you open that door, it’s hard to control what comes after. He started asking for photos of other body parts, like my upper body in low-cut tops, exposed collarbones, and later, even a few photos of private areas. And I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. After all, we were boyfriend and girlfriend, right? If I could send photos of my legs, I could send others too. That day, he said he wanted to see photos of me without clothes. How could I agree? Who would be comfortable with such embarrassing photos? Seeing his impatient words, I could only refuse politely. For the first time, his attitude towards me turned cold. “Other people’s girlfriends are by their side, but my girlfriend is so far away from me.” “I just want to see you, see everything about you, because I love you. But now, I can’t even quench my thirst by looking at plums!” “Linda, if you’re not willing to agree to even this, I’m starting to doubt if you really love me.” I looked at his words and fell into deep thought. Do I have to send such revealing photos just because I love him? I still refused. He didn’t answer. For a whole day, he didn’t send me a single message. I had already gotten used to his companionship. Without his messages, my life returned to its previous lonely state. I seemed out of place in this world, lonely in a corner. I couldn’t help but reach out to him first. “Are you there? What have you been doing today? Why haven’t you replied to my messages?” “Are you very busy? I miss you a little.” “When you don’t reply, I feel like the whole world has lost its color.” I didn’t even understand how these cheesy words came from my fingertips.

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Hailey’s boyfriend opened a private yoga studio, Whispering Willow Yoga Studio, charging a jaw-dropping $2,500 per session. The price was steep enough to hurt my teeth, but the place was constantly packed with clients. Especially the mistresses of wealthy men. No matter how poor their posture or demeanor, they’d walk out looking like regal swans. Curiosity got the better of me, and one night, I followed one of those mistresses into the studio’s changing room. That’s when I heard the chilling sound of a woman begging for mercy from the other side of the wall… Content Ever since Hailey started dating Zachary “Zach” Carter, a wealthy and resourceful man, our parents treated her like a queen. Meanwhile, I was the unwanted bonus that came with their cellphone plan. So, now and then, I’d poke at her boyfriend’s perfect facade. “Zach’s good-looking, capable, and surrounded by women all day. Aren’t you afraid he’ll cheat?” Hailey rolled her eyes as she saw right through me, utterly unbothered. “He’s obsessed with me,” she replied smugly. “Every night, without fail, he’s all over me. How could he have time for anyone else? You’re just bitter. I was almost thirty, still single, and walking around hunched over like some grandma. Even Mom looks younger than you!” Her words pierced straight through my self-esteem. From childhood to now, Hailey has always been the one everyone praises. I was the one people criticized. I had poor grades and no friends, and now, not even a man would take me if I begged. Hailey was the exact opposite. Brilliant, beautiful, and constantly swapping boyfriend-like outfits. And now, she was with someone as seemingly perfect as Zach Carter. I swallowed my tears and kept mopping the floor. Behind me, Hailey lounged on the couch, legs crossed, chatting on the phone. “Zach, what time will you be back tonight?” “You have another session? With Penny again?” “Ugh, I still remember the first time I saw her. She looked like some backwater hillbilly. After just a week of your sessions, she’s posting on Instagram looking like a total debutante.” After some idle chat, her tone shifted. “Zach, your sessions work wonders. Why won’t you ever let me come to the studio? I’m your girlfriend, after all. I want to be prettier too…” Click. Zach hung up on her. Even I could hear the sharp tone of the disconnection. Hailey’s face darkened, and she snapped at me, “What are you staring at? Get out!” I dropped the mop, clenched my fists, and let an idea take root. I had Penny Hawthorne’s contact. When Zach’s classes exploded in popularity, it was through my connection that Penny reached him. I opened Instagram and saw her latest post: a sultry, half-draped selfie. Her skin glowed smooth as silk, her posture radiated confidence, and her aura was captivating. Forget men—even I felt my pulse quicken. Every inch of her body looked like an artist had sculpted it. Her caption read: “9 PM session tonight! So excited!” It was already 8:30. I hailed a cab to the studio. The place was tucked away in a quiet, unlit area on the outskirts of town. Penny arrived shortly after I did, sneaking into the building like she was up to no good. Not even bothering with a flashlight, she climbed the stairs by moonlight. I followed her, heart pounding, holding my breath. On the second floor, doubt started creeping in. If I got caught, Hailey would lose her mind, and our parents would probably throw me out because I had embarrassed them. But… I glanced at Penny’s silhouette ahead of me. Even in the dim light, her figure was alluring and seductive. I wanted to be beautiful too. If I could expose Zach—whether it was cheating or some dark secret about this private yoga—he’d have to do whatever I asked. Click. Penny entered a code, and the automatic doors slid open. Before they closed again, I darted inside.

Zach wasn’t there yet, so I trailed Penny into the changing room. No lights were ever turned on. The studio relied entirely on the pale moonlight spilling through the windows. After showering and changing into yoga gear, Penny left. I stayed behind, glancing at my phone. It was precisely 9 PM. I heard movement outside—Zach had arrived. “Coach, are we starting now?” Penny’s voice was sweet and saccharine, enough to make anyone gag. Zach didn’t reply, but Penny started making sounds. It was…odd. Panting, gasping, somewhere between pain and pleasure. I thought, Is this really yoga? Why does it sound so intense? Could Zach be…? Summoning all my courage, I turned the doorknob and peeked through the crack. Even with my eyes wide open, I could only make out blurry shadows. The dim lighting heightened my other senses. The sounds were sharper, more urgent, like someone being devoured. Then came a man’s guttural noise, strange and feral, quickly drowned out by Penny’s cries. Through the darkness, I squinted hard enough to make out faint silhouettes. Penny lay on the ground in a yoga pose, her movements fluid. Beside her, the man moved like a ravenous animal, hunched over and devouring his prey. Even without clear visuals, what was happening was obvious. “My leg hurts! I think I pulled something. I can’t keep stretching!” Penny’s voice trembled with pain, almost sobbing, but the next moment, she called out to “Coach” in a higher pitch. I felt both confused and envious. The bizarre session lasted until my phone’s battery died from recording. It was all Penny’s one-woman show; Zach never spoke a word. If I showed this to Hailey, she’d laugh it off as inconclusive. No, I needed something more substantial. When the session ended, Zach left. Penny returned to the changing room to shower. I watched through a crack in the door as she admired herself in the mirror, completely naked, under her phone’s flashlight. “Finished class. Wish you were here~” She posed provocatively, likely for her sugar daddy. Her body was mesmerizing—an hourglass figure with flawless curves. Her legs were noticeably longer and straighter than before. When Penny finally left, I inspected the studio. The air still reeked of something unidentifiable. Under a yoga mat, I found a strange clump of silk-like material. By the time I got home, it was past 10 PM. Zach now lived with us, supposedly so someone could “care for him.” Hailey served him indoors while I played maid outside. Our parents were asleep as usual, and Hailey’s bedroom door was closed. I went to the bathroom to wash Zach’s laundry, but his clothes were spotless, and there was no evidence of him showering after class. That made no sense. On returning to my room, I noticed Hailey’s door was ajar. Peeking inside, I saw them on the bed. Zach was completely different here—his crude words sent me shivers. How could he be so cold and silent at the studio but vulgar and lively here? I blocked his path when he eventually left Hailey asleep and stepped into the living room. “I have proof you cheated on Hailey.” He smirked, unfazed. “So?” “You’re my future brother-in-law. I don’t want to ruin your relationship with my sister.” I clenched my fists. “I just have one request—teach me yoga. I want to be prettier than Penny Hawthorne.” Zach’s eyes scanned me, full of disdain. “Your starting point’s pretty bad,” he said, smirking. “But it’s not impossible.” His voice turned low and cryptic. “Tomorrow night at 9. Whispering Willow. Come ready—I’ll need to inspect you first.”

I stumbled back to my room, legs weak and hands trembling, still in shock that this was happening. Unable to contain my excitement, I pulled out the strange clump of material I’d grabbed from Whispering Willow Yoga Studio. Under the bright lamp, I saw it clearly—a tangled mess of fine, silky white threads. But what exactly it was, I had yet to learn. I posted about it on social media, adding a vague caption. Unsurprisingly, the post sank without a single comment. I wasn’t expecting much anyway. Zach had already agreed to teach me, and that was all that mattered. That night, I slept soundly, waking up the following day feeling refreshed. When I checked my phone, the post from last night had been bumped up with a comment in the middle of the night. It was from a random account with a default avatar and a gibberish username: “Where did you find such a cursed thing?” “Cursed?” I typed back quickly. “I just picked it up on the road.” The reply came instantly: “Have you been dealing with someone strange?” Strange? Zach Carter certainly fits the bill. “What is this stuff, anyway?” I asked. But the person avoided the question, telling me not to go anywhere at night for the next few days and not to trust anyone. As if I’d listen. The chance to transform myself was proper in front of me. I didn’t care if it meant walking straight into hell. Before heading out that night, I put on the nicest dress I owned, styled my hair, and spritzed on some perfume. I made sure to pass by Hailey on purpose. She spat a grape seed and sneered, “Ugly is still ugly, no matter how much you dress up. Who’s the poor blind soul you’re trying to impress? Don’t you worry about giving them nightmares?” For the first time, her words didn’t sting. At the studio door, I hesitated as I entered the code Zach had sent me. The clock struck 9 PM. Strangely, I heard noises that weren’t coming from the main door but rather … from beneath the floor? Before I could investigate further, something brushed against me. “Zach?” I whispered. The room was pitch dark, and a sickly, rotten stench hit my overly sensitive nose, making it hard to breathe. Whoever it was stayed silent, their hands roaming freely over me. I had mentally prepared for this, but their aggressive pace made me tremble with anxiety. “This isn’t right… I thought you were teaching me yoga?” My protests were useless against the overpowering force holding me. For nearly thirty years, I’d never even been kissed. Now, I was being stripped bare in mere moments. I hunched over, clutching the thin fabric over my chest like a lifeline. But my awkward resistance only seemed to excite him further. His hot breath hit my face, wet and heavy, like a panting dog: “Huff…” With one hand, he effortlessly pinned my arms above my head, leaving me completely vulnerable. RIP. The sound of tearing fabric shattered the last of my defenses. I stopped resisting. If this was the price of becoming beautiful, so be it. As his hands explored every inch of me, my body gradually softened, unfamiliar sensations coursing through me. Just when he was about to take the final step, he suddenly stopped. A faint rustling sound broke through the silence. “What’s that?” I asked, leaning weakly against him, still catching my breath. The man abruptly pulled away before I could process anything, leaving me exposed and confused. In an instant, my wrists and ankles were wrapped in those same fine, silky threads, pulling tight—then yanking me in four different directions. “Ahhh!” A sharp, searing pain shot through me, overwhelming every nerve.

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When Zach Carrington paid off a $500,000 gambling debt for Sophia Delaney’s father, he didn’t bother consulting me, his wife. Outraged, I confronted him, only to be met with indifference: “I earned that money, so I’ll spend it however I want. I don’t need your permission.” I didn’t argue. I simply walked into the home office. That night, I transferred the last $400,000 from our shared account and left a divorce agreement on his desk. The next day, I booked an appointment to terminate my pregnancy. Content I first heard that Zach Carrington had fallen from a building through a friend while I was confined to bed, trying to stabilize my pregnancy. Despite being three months along and in a fragile state, I panicked and rushed to Bluegrass Regional Medical Center. I was so anxious that I tripped and fell on the way. By the time I reached the hospital room, out of breath and disheveled, I heard a woman’s muffled sobs through the door. Edging closer, I peeked in to see Sophia Delaney curled up next to Zach, her tear-streaked face pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Zach. This is all my fault,” she choked out. Pale and haggard, Zach sat propped up in bed, his left arm in a cast. Gently, he pulled her into his embrace with a tenderness I had never witnessed before. “Don’t be silly. You’re okay, and that’s all that matters. This? This is nothing.” I froze in the doorway, my bedraggled appearance making me feel like an utter fool. Ignoring the dull ache in my abdomen, I turned and walked away. The urgency I had felt moments ago now seemed laughable. Returning to the empty expanse of our house, I sat in silence until nightfall. It was in the dead of night that I started bleeding. Sharp pains wracked my stomach as I fumbled to call 911. By dawn, I was in the hospital. Thankfully, the baby was safe. For the sake of the pregnancy, I stayed in the hospital. My room was only a floor below Zach’s, but the distance felt like an unbridgeable chasm. While hooked up to an IV, I scrolled through my phone and stumbled upon a news alert: “Yesterday afternoon, a woman on South Main Street attempted to jump from a building after a family dispute. Her boyfriend, trying to save her, fell alongside her. Both landed on safety cushions.” The accompanying photo showed a tall man cradling a fragile woman as they fell, their pose evoking an image of unwavering devotion. It was Zach and Sophia. To the world, they looked like the perfect couple. I stared at the screen, numb, before closing the article with a bitter laugh.

On the fourth day of my hospital stay, Zach called me. His voice was cold, laced with reproach. “Celia, do you even know I’m in the hospital? It’s been days, and you haven’t bothered to visit. Do I even matter to you as a husband?” Unmoved, I replied flatly, “I’ve been busy.” His anger flared. “Busy? You’re a housewife. What could you possibly be busy with? You just don’t care about me. If I’d known how heartless you are, I never would’ve married you!” The line went dead as he slammed the phone down. The busy signal hummed in my ear as I sat, lost in thought. We had been married for five years. In the beginning, we were courteous, even affectionate. Now, every interaction felt like a battle. Looking back, the cracks had appeared long before. When Zach started working late and staying out overnight, claiming he had to work overtime, our marriage became little more than a hollow shell. Even trying to conceive had been an uphill battle. I had begged him for months before he reluctantly agreed. Whenever we were intimate, he treated it like a chore, devoid of affection. After I became pregnant, I went to every appointment alone. He didn’t even know that I had been put on bed rest due to low progesterone. To him, Sophia Delaney was the center of the universe. I stayed in the hospital for two weeks without a single call from Zach. When I was discharged, I returned home at dusk, only to find Zach had also been released. The dimly lit living room was eerily quiet. He sat on the couch, his left arm still in a sling, his face unreadable. “Where have you been?” he asked, his voice cutting through the silence like frost. “I’ve been home for two days, and you’ve been nowhere to be found. What were you doing?” I sat down at the dining table, my tone indifferent. “Just needed some time to clear my head.” “Clear your head?” His voice rose, frustration flickering in his expression. “I’ve been hospitalized for weeks, and you’re out clearing your head? While I’m injured?” I glanced at him, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sophia seemed to be taking good care of you. What could I possibly add?” Zach’s eyes darkened. “That’s right. You’ll never be as attentive as Sophia! She’s been running herself ragged for me while you haven’t lifted a finger. You’ve failed as a wife!” His righteousness ignited a flicker of anger in me. “If she’s so good, why don’t we just get a divorce? Let her have the title of Mrs. Carrington.” For a moment, he was stunned, but his face quickly twisted into anger. “Celia, stop being ridiculous. I’ve told you a hundred times—Sophia and I are just friends!” “Friends?” I scoffed. “Since when do friends risk their lives for each other?” “She’s been through so much,” Zach retorted. “Her father’s a gambler who abuses her when he loses. She almost ended her life, Celia. What was I supposed to do? Let her die? I’ve known her my entire life. How could I abandon her?” “And yet, you expect me to believe you’re just friends?” I countered, my voice sharp. “If she’s that important, why didn’t you marry her instead of me?” Zach faltered, his confidence wavering. After a pause, he glared at me and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. In the echo of his departure, I sat alone, the weight of his absence crushing yet strangely freeing.

This wasn’t the first time Zach Carrington and I fought because of Sophia Delaney. Sophia grew up in the same neighborhood as Zach. Her mother passed away when she was young, and her father was not only a compulsive gambler but also an alcoholic. Whenever her father lost money gambling, he’d drink himself into a rage and take it out on her with verbal and physical abuse. By the time she was 16, Sophia had dropped out of school to work odd jobs. Perhaps her tragic circumstances triggered Zach’s protective instincts because he had always looked out for her. They even dated once. At 20, Zach and Sophia were briefly together. But Margaret Carrington, Zach’s mother, vehemently opposed their relationship. Sophia’s lack of education and her father’s addiction made her entirely unsuitable in Margaret’s eyes. Not long after, under Margaret’s relentless interference, the two broke up. After their breakup, Sophia left Lexington and moved to another city for work. As for Zach, it wasn’t long before he met me through mutual friends. According to Zach, it was love at first sight. He pursued me tirelessly for two years, and eventually, I fell for his unwavering dedication. We dated, got engaged, and then married—it all fell into place so seamlessly. At first, our marriage was stable and harmonious, filled with mutual respect and care. But last year, Sophia came back into the picture. Sophia returned to Lexington because her grandmother was gravely ill. It wasn’t long before she and Zach reconnected. One night, after being beaten by her father during one of his drunken outbursts, Sophia called Zach, sobbing into the phone. Hearing her tearful voice, Zach rushed to her side. Their contact became increasingly frequent after that. Sometimes, Zach skipped my birthday or our anniversary to comfort Sophia. I fought with him about it countless times. But over time, the fights wore us down, and cracks began forming in our relationship. Around then, Margaret suggested, “Celia, why don’t you two have a child? A baby will strengthen your bond and make your marriage more stable. External influences won’t shake you so easily.” I listened to her advice and convinced Zach to try for a baby. Now, I regret that decision more than anything. This child should never have come into existence. 4 After slamming the door, Zach didn’t come home that night. The next day, Riley Hart called me, her voice hesitant. “Celia, I saw Zach last night…” she began cautiously. “He… he went to a hotel with Sophia.” “Oh,” I responded flatly, my tone devoid of emotion. “Got it.” “Got it?!” Riley’s anger exploded. “Celia, he’s probably cheating on you! What kind of man does this while his wife is pregnant? He’s scum!” Her anger on my behalf brought a wave of emotion crashing over me. Tears welled up as I choked out, “Riley… I almost miscarried recently. But Zach doesn’t care about me or the baby. All he cares about is Sophia.” “That bastard!” Riley swore furiously. “If anything happens to you or the baby, I’ll make them pay!” Fueled by righteous fury, Riley ranted about Zach and Sophia for the next half hour. I didn’t expect her to take matters into her own hands after we hung up. She confronted Sophia in person and tore into her mercilessly. Later that evening, my phone buzzed as I was brewing herbal tea for my pregnancy. It was Sophia. Her voice quivered as she began crying over the line, “Celia, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to come between you and Zach. He’s just an old friend. We grew up together, so we’re naturally close. Please don’t misunderstand…” “Enough!” I interrupted, my patience snapping. “I don’t care about whatever’s going on between you two. Just don’t call me again.” I ended the call without hesitation. Minutes later, my phone rang again. This time, it was Zach. Without so much as a greeting, he launched into a tirade. “Celia, why are you making things difficult for Sophia? She’s been through enough already! Can’t you be a little more understanding?” His audacity enraged me. “Where were you last night?” I demanded. “Sophia was upset,” he replied calmly. “I was keeping her company.” “Oh, keeping her company? Does that require booking a hotel room for the entire night?” Zach’s voice hardened. “Her dad was drunk and violent again. She had nowhere else to go. What was I supposed to do? Bring her home? Celia, stop being so petty. You weren’t like this before.” At that moment, exhaustion washed over me. I hung up before he could finish his excuses. Whatever we once had, it was gone. 5 That night, Zach’s bank account suddenly showed a $500,000 transfer. Since his account was linked to my phone number, I received the notification immediately. Despite our cold war, I couldn’t ignore such a significant amount. I dialed his number at once. It took several tries before he picked up. His tone was curt and impatient. “What now?” “What did you do with $500,000?” I asked directly. There was a pause before he admitted, his voice unsteady, “Sophia’s dad owed $500,000 in gambling debts. I paid it off for him.” “You what?!” My voice rose in disbelief. “Zach, have you lost your mind? Five hundred thousand dollars?” Rather than showing any remorse, Zach sounded self-righteous. “If I hadn’t paid, they would’ve taken Sophia to settle the debt. She would’ve been forced to marry some older man. She’s only 27! I couldn’t just stand by and let her life be ruined!” I felt my chest tighten as rage and despair surged through me. After a long moment of silence, I forced myself to speak calmly. “Something like this—you should’ve discussed it with me first.” Zach scoffed. “I earned that money. I’ll spend it however I see fit. Money can be replaced, but Sophia’s life can’t.” I had no words left. I hung up, utterly drained. Yes, the money was his, but I had been there during the early days of his business, working alongside him late into the night. That money represented years of effort—our effort. We had been saving to buy a bigger house, but now… That was the moment I knew our marriage was truly over. Without tears or anger, I walked into the home office. I drafted a divorce agreement, transferred the remaining $400,000 in his account to my brother, and packed my things. Late that night, I drove away from the house we had shared for five years. Our five-year marriage ended in silence and finality. 6 The next day, I walked into the clinic for the procedure. As the cold instruments invaded my body, I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They flowed uncontrollably. I had fought so hard to keep this child, but now I was the one ending his life. The pain was searing as if a piece of my soul was being ripped away. But no matter how much it hurt, I had to stay resolute. I couldn’t bring this child into a broken, single-parent household. Nor could I let him become a pawn for Zach Carrington to manipulate and bind me to him forever. If I was going to end this, it had to be clean and final. As they removed my child, an ache sharper than any physical pain spread through my chest. I didn’t regret ending my marriage, but I deeply regretted allowing this child to come into my life only to take it away. After the procedure, I forced myself to leave the clinic alone, ignoring the discomfort radiating. In the hospital lobby, I ran into Zach and Sophia. Sophia’s face bore faint bruises, evidence of some recent injury. Zach’s left arm was still in a sling, and his right arm was draped protectively around Sophia’s shoulder as they walked together, his expression gentle as ever. When they saw me, both froze. “Celia?” Zach asked. He subtly removed his arm from around Sophia and frowned. “What are you doing here? A check-up?” I looked him over coldly, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Caught red-handed, Zach? Feeling guilty?” His face darkened immediately. “What nonsense are you spouting now?” “Am I wrong?” Zach’s expression grew stiff, but he held his temper because of Sophia’s presence. “Sophia’s dad hit her again a couple of days ago. Her arm hurt, so I brought her here for an X-ray. It’s not what you think.” How laughable. Sophia gets a sore arm, and Zach treats it like a crisis. Meanwhile, his wife nearly miscarried, and he couldn’t care less. I couldn’t bring myself to engage further. I turned to leave, but Zach grabbed my wrist. “What’s going on, Celia? Why do you look so pale? What are you doing at the hospital?” I yanked my hand away and spat out the words with icy precision. “Getting an abortion.” “What?” Zach’s face went blank, and after two stunned seconds, he practically shouted, “You aborted the baby?!” His shock sent a cruel, vindictive satisfaction through me. “Yes,” I said, forcing myself to smile. “Almost four months along. It was a boy, too. Looked just like you. Such a shame your mother won’t get a grandson now.” “Celia Winters!” Zach’s voice boomed through the lobby, his face contorted with rage. “Are you out of your mind?!”

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On our fifth wedding anniversary night, I arrived in my best suit, eagerly anticipating that my CEO wife, Madelyn Grant, would finally reveal our secret marriage at the gala. But instead, scandalous news about her first love, Carter Hayes, suddenly made headlines. Ignoring my feelings, she announced to the crowd: “Carter and I are indeed in a relationship. Please show your support for his new project.” As the crowd erupted in applause and cheers, Carter pulled Madelyn into a kiss. I didn’t cry, didn’t make a scene. I clapped along with the rest, offering my hollow congratulations. It wasn’t until later, when she realized how much I’d changed, that Madelyn begged me, in tears, to forgive her again. Content “Evan Cooper, what are you doing? Why are you being so unreasonable?” Madelyn Grant caught up with me, roughly grabbing my collar and dragging me into the shadows. “You know Carter’s career is on the rise. How could I just stand by and let a few haters insult and attack him?” I looked at her, meeting her irritated gaze. My eyes drifted beyond her, landing on Carter Hayes, casually mingling with his glass of champagne. He was radiant, basking in the crowd’s admiration. With every glance, I felt my heart bleeding. This gala was supposed to be the happiest night of my life. After two years of dating and five years of marriage, Madelyn promised to announce our marriage tonight. But in the end, I couldn’t compare it to her first love. For years, the recognition I had longed for was given to Carter with nothing more than a pitiful act. When she noticed my focus lingering on Carter, Madelyn’s expression darkened. She tightened her grip on my collar and warned, “Evan Cooper, don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning. You better not cause trouble for Carter at this party!” Her grip was suffocating, and the pain in my chest was unbearable. I pushed her away, coughing violently. Perhaps out of guilt, she gently patted my back and sighed softly. “Evan, stop making a fuss. The situation with Carter came up suddenly. Pretending to be a couple was a last-minute decision—I didn’t have time to discuss it with you.” This gala was meant to announce our secret marriage. Madelyn had invited company executives and a few entertainment journalists. She said she didn’t reveal the theme in advance to maintain an air of mystery. Yet now, not only were all the company employees here, but she’d also invited hard-to-reach reporters, directors, and investors. And she called this a “last-minute decision”? Once my breathing steadied, I scoffed, “Ms. Grant, you overestimate me. I know exactly where I stand. Who am I to question your decisions?” My reaction left Madelyn stunned. She stared at me for a long time, her expression complicated. As employees passed by, glancing curiously in our direction, she raised her clutch to shield her face, afraid someone might see us arguing. Watching her ridiculous antics, I suddenly burst out laughing. “Ms. Grant, you don’t need to do this. If I’m not welcome, I’ll leave.” With that, I stepped around her and headed for the door. “Enough!” Madelyn wasn’t ready to let it go. She followed closely, holding her clutch awkwardly to her face. “Evan Cooper, I explained everything to you! What more do you want?” Tired of her excuses, I stopped abruptly. Just as I was about to speak, Carter Hayes appeared. Casually, he wrapped an arm around Madelyn’s waist, pulling her close. He shot me a smug glance and said, “Madelyn, Director Warren mentioned he has a lead role in mind for me. Can you come and discuss the details?” Madelyn hesitated, casting me a fleeting glance. Then she said, “Evan, you go home first. I’ll join you after I finish discussing the project with Carter.” I watched the two of them, their closeness like a knife twisting in my gut. My fists clenched, but in the end, I could only mutter, “Fine.” Madelyn praised me for being understanding before turning away, a smile lighting up her face as she left with Carter. Not long after, Carter grabbed the back of Madelyn’s head and kissed her passionately. Flashes erupted as reporters swarmed them for photos. The two reluctantly pulled apart. “Carter is just so clingy with me,” Madelyn said shyly, her voice full of affection. “I hope everyone understands.” With his arm firmly around Madelyn’s waist, Carter shot me a triumphant look, basking in the spotlight. Unable to contain my emotions, I fled the suffocating scene.

When I got home, the first thing I saw was the wedding photo hanging by the entryway. The smiles we shared in that picture now felt like knives to my chest. When I first moved in with Madelyn, I redecorated the entire house out of love for her. I removed everything and replaced it with enlarged wedding photos, hanging them in nearly every room. When she saw it, she called me childish, scolding me for wasting time and money. She demanded I put the house back the way it was. I’d stubbornly refused, throwing small tantrums until she reluctantly gave in. Looking back now, I was pathetic. Barefoot, I kicked aside the matching slippers by the door and began taking down every photo from the walls. I carried them all downstairs and tossed them into the trash. Sweaty and exhausted, I stood in the now-barren house. The emptiness echoed the void in my chest. I thought back to college when I’d fallen in love with Madelyn at first sight. After a month of persistence, she finally agreed to be my girlfriend. We were inseparable, blissfully happy. I’d promised to love her forever. But after graduation, she became someone I no longer recognized. Madelyn grew ambitious, classifying friends and colleagues by status. She craved luxury and fine dining. To meet her demands, I worked tirelessly, pulling in clients and hustling for success. While I struggled, Madelyn maintained her flawless image, enjoying the fruits of my labor. When the company finally stabilized, I stepped into the background. To the world, Madelyn Grant was the face of Grant Enterprises, while I became invisible. I accepted this role willingly. Until Carter Hayes emerged as Hollywood’s rising star, everything changed the moment Madelyn saw him on screen. She’d once looked down on the entertainment industry. But one drunken night, Carter brought her home. That’s when I learned she’d spent the evening hosting a lavish party for the cast and crew to secure Carter a supporting role. I remember Carter’s smug expression as he handed her over, the suspicious marks on her neck, and how she clung to his arm even as I tried to take her inside. As I cared for her that night, she murmured Carter’s name in her sleep. Through careful questioning, I discovered Carter had been her first love. Their connection ran deep, dating back to childhood. Once Madelyn felt she was finally “worthy” of him, she pursued him with abandon. I’d known for a while that she loved Carter. I just hadn’t been willing to admit it. I thought our years together would make her turn back to me. But it was all wishful thinking. Finally, I understood. Better late than never.

After showering, I sat blankly against the headboard in the main bedroom. Rain poured down outside, a heavy, relentless storm. At first, I instinctively thought about going to pick her up. I even changed clothes, but then it hit me—I was being ridiculous again. I grabbed my phone, intending to call her, but her number appeared first. “Carter, just go to bed. Don’t wait for me tonight,” Madelyn slurred before hanging up. Her tone and the sudden disconnection confirmed it. I knew exactly where she was. To punish myself, I called Carter Hayes on video. He picked up instantly. The screen was almost entirely dark, but the unmistakable sounds of labored breathing filtered through. Carter chuckled softly, his voice laced with smugness. “Evan, I’m busy right now. Let’s talk later, okay?” The call ended before I could say anything, and my hand froze, unable to redial. Moments later, a breaking news alert popped up on my phone. I opened it and saw headlines about Carter Hayes: “Carter Hayes and Madelyn Grant’s Love Story Takes Center Stage!” Photos of their kiss from the gala splashed across the screen, accompanied by paragraphs of glowing praise. Comments flooded in, full of blessings for their “eternal happiness” and hopes for a “beautiful family.” I laughed bitterly, staring at the images for an eternity. At that moment, I could no longer lie to myself—Madelyn and Carter, indeed, were a perfect match. She is the head of Grant Enterprises. He is a rising star in Hollywood. They are a stunning couple. And me? Just a nobody. Carter’s social media was filled with new posts—everyone cozy, intimate photos of Madelyn accompanied by flirtatious captions. I felt like a clown, obsessively watching my wife flaunt her relationship with another man. As dawn broke, a message from Madelyn appeared on my phone: “Carter, I’m craving Eleanor’s Classic Chicken, Rice Soup, and Sammy’s Buttermilk Biscuits. Bring them to the office for me.” This was her way of making peace. Whenever we fought, and I couldn’t calm her down, she would do this—send me an order she knew I’d fulfill. In the past, these small gestures would have thrilled me. I’d have stayed awake all night, excited to win her back. But now? I hesitated for a long time before finally deciding to see her.

I arrived at the office before work hours. The building was quiet, except for the light coming from Madelyn’s office. I knocked and entered. She was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, drying her hair in a semi-sheer lace slip. She hadn’t noticed me yet, speaking on the phone. “Dr. Young, the baby’s only a month along. Let’s schedule the abortion while it’s still early.” “Madelyn, this is your first child after five years of marriage. Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Evan first? I’m worried—” “No need,” she snapped, cutting him off. “It’s my body, and I’ll decide!” She paused, then continued coldly, “I’ve been drinking. Who knows if the baby will turn out deformed? Besides, Carter’s career is taking off. I can’t let anything hold me back.” The food container slipped from my hands, crashing to the floor. Startled, Madelyn turned around. When she saw me, her expression froze. “Evan… When did you get here? What did you hear?” She rushed toward me, gripping my sleeve desperately. “Evan, let me explain. I just found out about the pregnancy myself…” I didn’t respond. My gaze was fixed on the marks on her exposed skin—passionate, undeniable evidence of last night. Following my eyes, she looked down and gasped, quickly folding her arms to cover herself. I lifted my head and chuckled, my voice dripping with contempt. “Madelyn Grant, I heard everything. Are you still going to lie to me? You’re disgusting.” Madelyn, unaccustomed to such direct insults, teared up immediately. She hesitated, wanting to reach for my hand but ashamed to drop her arms. She paced. “Evan, Evan, please, listen. It’s not what you think…” At that moment, the door to the private lounge opened, and Carter Hayes emerged wearing a bathrobe. “Madelyn, what’s going on?” Tears streamed down Madelyn’s face as she turned to him. “Carter, please explain to Evan! He’s misunderstood our relationship.” Carter’s expression tightened briefly before he smiled lazily. “Evan, sorry about this. I got drunk last night, and Madelyn was kind enough to let me crash here. Nothing inappropriate happened. If it bothers you, I’ll leave.” But his demeanor didn’t match his words. The scratches on his chest were impossible to miss, and he adjusted his robe with a deliberate smirk. “Sorry, my clothes were ruined last night. The new ones haven’t arrived yet.” I stayed silent, watching their performance with a numb heart. Madelyn, thinking I believed Carter’s excuse, grabbed my wrist anxiously. “See, Evan? Carter explained it. We’re innocent.” I shook her off, smiling faintly. “Madelyn Grant, you’re a natural actress. Not being in Hollywood is a loss for the industry.” “What do you mean by that?” she asked, her voice trembling. I stared at her tear-streaked face, my voice steady. “It means we’re done. Let’s get a divorce.” Saying those words felt like a weight lifted off my chest. Ignoring her sobs, I walked away from Grant Enterprises, leaving her behind. When I picked up breakfast to bring to Madelyn this morning, a small part of me still clung to the hope that we could reconcile. But now, I’ve finally decided to let her go.

When I exited the building, the office was coming to life. Employees gave me a wide berth, sensing the storm in my demeanor. Only Ryan Dorsey, Madelyn’s assistant, dared to approach. He trailed me to the parking lot. When I stopped and turned to face him, he hesitated before speaking. “Mr. Cooper, there’s something I need to tell you. I thought about it all night, and you should know.” I exhaled deeply, forcing myself to stay calm. “What is it, Ryan?” He glanced at me nervously, then quickly looked down. “You gave me this job. Without you, I’d be nowhere. Even if I lose it for saying this, I don’t care.” “What’s going on?” I asked, frowning, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Ryan finally met my eyes. “Last night, I was working late. I accidentally saw Madelyn…” He faltered, then handed me his phone. “You’d better see for yourself.” The photos were explicit—Madelyn, barely clothed, straddling Carter Hayes. The accompanying video could have been better. The sounds alone turned my stomach. I chuckled darkly, returning the phone after forwarding the evidence to myself. “Delete everything, Ryan. Make sure she doesn’t find out. And thank you for telling me.” Ryan nodded, relieved, and left for the office. Back home, I packed my things—two suitcases were enough for everything I owned. As I was leaving, my phone rang. “Evan, I booked a table at your favorite steakhouse. Let’s have dinner tonight,” Madelyn said, her tone unnervingly casual. My anger flared. “Madelyn, are you deaf? If you want this divorce finalized, I’ll have dinner with you. Otherwise, forget it.” She paused, then started sobbing softly. “You used to do anything I asked. Now, you won’t even have one meal with me?” I laughed coldly. “Madelyn, do you think you deserve it?” Desperation tinged her voice. “Evan, please don’t be angry. Isn’t all this about recognition? Once Carter finishes his project, I’ll announce our breakup and our marriage. Isn’t that enough?” “No, it’s not. I want nothing more to do with you. You disgust me.”

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I am a demolition engineer. When the safety officer reported that someone might be in the hills and the blast should be delayed, I pressed the button anyway. Dozens were killed or injured, the site painted in blood and echoing with cries and wails. While my colleagues scrambled to rescue the victims, I calmly scrolled on my phone, telling them not to rush. In my previous life, after the disaster, my childhood friend accused me of negligence. My pregnant wife wept, calling me cruel and accusing me of premeditating it all. The furious villagers beat me to death. And my childhood friend married my wife, cashed in on the insurance payout, and lived a happy life. Then, I opened my eyes and found myself back to the moment when my childhood friend handed me the papers to sign right before the blast. …… Content “Carter, sign here. I’ve checked everything; it’s all good!” That familiar voice pulled me from my daze. I hesitated, staring at the pen and the stack of papers before me. “What’s the holdup, Hobbs? Don’t worry! I’ve double-checked everything. Everyone else has already signed—just waiting on you!” I turned to see the eager smile of Lucas Kendrick, a face I’d known for nearly thirty years. My childhood friend. My subordinate. In my past life, I’d never hesitated to sign whatever Lucas handed me. My signature on these papers had pushed me into an abyss I couldn’t climb. I signed and approved the demolition, and the blast killed dozens on the mountain. The furious families beat me to death. The memory of my previous life, of being battered until my body was unrecognizable, sent a shiver down my spine. This time, I picked up the papers and began reading them thoroughly. Every line of approvals, designs, blueprints, and explosive placements seemed flawless. But why did investigators in my last life conclude that these plans had a fatal flaw that caused the catastrophe? Seeing my hesitation, Lucas chuckled. “Come on, Carter. It’s just paperwork. We’re on a tight schedule here. Don’t tell me you’re considering revising the plan now—it’s been vetted already.” There were less than thirty minutes before the scheduled blast. If the demolition didn’t proceed on time, I’d face scrutiny, the company would suffer heavy financial losses, and I’d jeopardize this hard-fought project that could save us all. In my career, I’d overseen dozens of complex demolition projects. This one was supposed to be straightforward. But the “sure thing” had spiraled into a nightmare. Lucas pulled a bottle from his bag. “Fine, take your time. Meanwhile, I’ll open this up. This is a rare vintage, Carter—aged over a decade. You’ll owe me a toast after this!” As he turned to uncork the bottle, unease prickled in my gut. His casual demeanor almost assumed I’d sign without question. Could there be nothing wrong with these documents? Before I could decide, several colleagues entered the room. They saw me holding the papers and urged me to hurry. After my signature, these documents still required the company seal and additional processing. After combing through them, finding nothing out of place, I reluctantly signed. As Lucas took the papers, his smug expression made my heart skip a beat. Could he…? But the documents needed to be more spotless. I opened my mouth to call him back, but another colleague interrupted. “Carter, it’s time for the Ceremonial Toast.”

The Ceremonial Toast was a pre-demolition ritual we always observed. While some dismissed it as superstition, it had become ingrained in our team’s culture. Everyone would drink a small cup of liquor as part of the ceremony. In my past life, I only had one drink. Yet, the police later found excessive alcohol in my system and concluded that my intoxication contributed to the disaster. This time, I held the cup to my nose. It smelled like ordinary whiskey—a good bottle with a warm, inviting aroma. With my tolerance, one cup wouldn’t even leave me buzzed. But why had the tests only flagged me? Lucas’s expression tensed when I didn’t drink. Was there something wrong with this cup? “Carter, what’s the matter? Too fancy for you? I brought out the good stuff just for today!” Lucas teased. Everyone else turned to look at me in surprise. I’d never turned down a drink, not even the cheap moonshine the crew sometimes brought. “Carter, come on—it’s one drink. I won’t mess up a thing. With your tolerance, this won’t even scratch the surface.” “This whiskey’s smooth, rich, and warm. Just try it, and you’ll want the whole bottle!” Under their eager gazes, I raised the cup and downed it. But I wasn’t done yet. There was still time before the blast. I needed to be thorough. This time, I’d ensure every detail was checked. I instructed the observers to fly the drones over the site again, ensuring no one was in the blast zone. My mind raced, focused on finding the people who’d died in my past life. Back then, I’d died waiting for answers, never knowing where the fatal error had occurred. Not this time. I returned to the Operations Command Center, reviewing the feeds from every camera. As the countdown to the blast ticked closer, sweat beaded on my forehead. Suddenly, it hit me: Could the explosives themselves be tampered with? I rushed out of the command center, heading toward the blast site. Just as I reached the exit, Vivienne appeared, clutching her stomach. “Carter! It hurts! The baby—something’s wrong! You need to take me to the hospital!” I stared at her, my mind churning. Why was she doing this to me? She was six months pregnant; soon, we’d have a child together. How could she be willing to leave that child fatherless? When I didn’t react, Vivienne snapped, “Is your job more important than our child? I’m telling you—I need help! Take me to the hospital!” In my past life, she hadn’t been in any pain. She’d stood at the scene, scolding me. But now, her sudden distress seemed suspicious. Could Lucas have seen through my hesitation and enlisted her to distract me? Vivienne wasn’t supposed to be here. She’d insisted on accompanying me, claiming she wanted to see my work before the baby came. I’d broken protocol to bring her along, trusting her. But when did Lucas and Vivienne start working together? Their desperation to sideline me could only mean one thing: there was something they didn’t want me to find.

Vivienne clutched her belly, crying out in pain. Lucas Kendrick rushed in, his face a mask of concern. “Carter, you need to take Vivi to the hospital! I’ll handle things here. Don’t worry; I’ve got it covered. Just look at her—she’s as pale as a sheet!” Lucas and I had grown up together, always having each other’s backs. It was second nature for us to help each other in any situation. Usually, I’d have considered my wife and our unborn child my top priority. But this time, knowing what lay ahead, I wasn’t about to let my life slip away in confusion again. “Lucas,” I said, fixing him with a steady gaze, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this blast. I need to stay here and oversee it. Please take Vivi to the hospital. I trust you to look after her.” Vivienne’s cries faltered for a brief moment. Lucas also froze before stammering, “Me? Take her? Carter, it’s better if you go. What if something happens to her on the way? I can’t take that kind of responsibility.” Vivienne grabbed my shirt, sobbing hysterically. “Carter Hobbs! I can’t believe you’re this kind of man. What if something happens to our baby? Can you live with that?” I frowned. “I told you before—this site is dangerous. You insisted on coming. You said you wouldn’t blame me no matter what. So why the drama now? I’ll have an assistant take you to the hospital.” I had no time to argue. I had to uncover the problem before the blast. I called for an assistant to drive Vivienne, but she clung to my clothes, refusing to let me go. Frustrated, I pulled off my jacket, left her holding it, and walked out in my T-shirt. Behind me, Vivienne wailed loudly, and Lucas sighed theatrically. “Carter, man, I’m telling you, marriage is about patience. You’ve got to show her more understanding.” I shot him a cold glare. “Funny. You’re not married yet, but you seem to know about relationships and how to handle women.” The memory of their betrayal in my past life made my fists clench involuntarily. I wanted nothing more than to punch them, but I had no proof. The countdown to the blast was already underway. Reports from the site indicated everything was in order. My mind raced as I reviewed what could have caused the accident in my previous life. Where could the critical error have occurred? I walked to the nearest blast point and ordered the safety officer to retrieve the explosives for reinspection. The officer stared at me, bewildered. “We’ve got half an hour left, Carter,” he protested. “Removing the explosives and resetting them will take forever.” Lucas put on a puzzled face. “What’s going on, Carter? You’re acting strange today.” “Follow my orders,” I barked. Reluctantly, the safety officer complied and dug up the explosives. I inspected everything meticulously. The explosives were acceptable. The placement was flawless. I moved to another location and repeated the process. Still, nothing was wrong. By the time I finished, only ten minutes were left until the scheduled detonation. What the hell is going on? I broke out in a cold sweat when the observers reported all clear. The control room buzzed in, urging me to return for final preparations. Hoarsely, I replied, “I’m requesting a delay. I believe there’s a potential danger in proceeding with the blast.”

The room fell silent. Everyone stared at me in shock. Lucas grabbed my sleeve, leaning in to whisper, “Carter, what’s wrong? We’ve gone over everything multiple times. Nothing’s out of place. If you want to delay, you must give a reason.” I met his gaze with a cold stare. Lucas had been the first to accuse me in my past life, claiming that my design was flawed. He had testified that he’d spotted issues during construction but that I had ignored his warnings, leading to the deaths of so many people. Looking back, it was clear that he had orchestrated everything. All those lives—didn’t they haunt him in his dreams? The deputy chief engineer, Harrison Greer, cleared his throat. “Carter, did you find something during your inspection?” I couldn’t respond. What could I say? That in a past life, this seemingly routine demolition had turned catastrophic? But in this life, I had no evidence. A sharp pain twisted in my gut, and I clutched my stomach. Lucas hurried to my side, offering a bottle of antacid and a glass of water. “Stomach acting up again? Here, take this. Relax, Carter. We’ve handled far more complex projects than this one. It’s a walk in the park for us veterans.” I swallowed the medication, and the warm water eased the pain slightly. Harrison spoke again. “Carter, if you’ve identified a problem, I’ll back the delay. But without a concrete reason, I can’t approve it. The schedule is tight, and if we don’t detonate today, the weather forecast will prevent us from doing it for several more days.” Lucas chimed in, trying to smooth things over. “Carter’s been under a lot of stress. Probably just sleep-deprived, right?” The countdown continued. Three minutes left. The control room was silent, all eyes on me. With one minute remaining, my phone buzzed. It was a call from the project’s upper management. The stern voice on the other end demanded to know why the detonation hadn’t started. Under the pressure of his authority, I finally relented. “The blast will proceed as scheduled.” My eyes scanned the faces of my colleagues in the control room—men and women I had trusted in my previous life. Who else among them had been part of my betrayal? When the clock hit zero, I issued the command to detonate. My finger hovered briefly over the button before pressing it. As the blast rang out in waves, I caught a flicker of satisfaction on Lucas’s face. The observers began reporting in. “Point 1, successful detonation. All clear.” “Point 2, successful detonation. All clear.” With each confirmation, my tension mounted. My heart felt like it was about to burst. Finally, after Point 6’s report, the radio fell silent. Point 7 hadn’t checked in. My gut sank. Something had gone wrong.

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During a basketball game at Westfield, I accidentally broke the Cartier watch of Chelsea White, one of the most popular, wealthy girls at school. Tyler, my boyfriend, rushed over to her, carefully cradling her wrist as he scolded me, “Harper, can’t you be more careful? Can you even afford to replace this?” Just a Cartier? Please. I have a drawer full of Vacheron Constantins and Rolexes at home, yet I’ve never seen him worry over me like this. The Student Council organized a girls’ basketball game, and during the match, my elbow collided with something hard as I fought Chelsea for the ball. I didn’t think much of it—bumps and hits are just part of the game. But she screeched, “Stop! Harper, you broke my watch!” It’s just a watch. What’s she so worked up about? The game was intense, and we were close to winning. I wasn’t about to stop over this. “Sorry, I’ll cover it, okay? Let’s just finish the game first.” But Chelsea, in all her self-righteousness, snatched the ball right out of my hands and tossed it out of bounds, forcing the game to stop. I wasn’t thrilled. She held her chin high and announced, “Harper, this is a Cartier.” I glanced at her wrist. Watches aren’t really my thing—I don’t usually wear one. I could tell it was Cartier, but I had no idea which model or its price. Definitely didn’t look vintage, so maybe a few thousand. Fixing a watch face isn’t even a big expense. Her dramatic reaction wasn’t necessary. Everyone huddled around. “Oh my God, Chelsea, what are you going to do?” “Look at that shattered face! Oh, it makes me cringe.” Seeing everyone look so worried, I asked, “Is this thing really that expensive?” Someone who clearly knew their stuff spoke up, “Of course! It’s a Ballon Bleu!” Chelsea shoved her wrist in my face. “Over four thousand dollars!” Everyone gasped. That was way off from the tens of thousands I’d imagined. For that price, getting the glass repaired shouldn’t cost more than a couple hundred at most. She grimaced. “I’ll have to send it to a Cartier store, and then they’ll ship it to Switzerland for repairs. It’ll take at least a month!” What a hassle. “Tell you what, I’ll get you a new one,” I offered. Though I doubted she’d like a Vacheron. My parents have given me watches that start at ten grand, but I don’t wear them, so they’re all just sitting at home. Might as well give her one of those. “A new one?” She looked scornful. “This isn’t some knock-off, you know! My dad brought this straight from Switzerland!” It’s not like I planned on giving her a fake. This girl was unbelievable. I’d heard her family had some money. She carried a different Louis Vuitton or Chanel bag every day and treated people to bubble tea pretty often. But my family isn’t exactly struggling. That new building on campus? My dad donated that. I asked, “So, what do you want to do about it?” My boyfriend, Tyler, had just come back with water for me and was caught up on the whole situation. He turned to me with this look of blame, “Harper, couldn’t you be more careful?!” How was I supposed to know someone would be wearing a watch while playing basketball? Doesn’t it feel uncomfortable? Doesn’t it get in the way? “Harper, look at yourself. Can you even afford this?” Tyler had never spoken to me like this before. He gently held Chelsea’s wrist as if it was something precious. It’s just a broken watch. And my elbow’s still throbbing. “All right, Chelsea, how do you want to handle this? How much is it going to cost?” She still looked mournful. “I’ll have to get it checked at the store first.” Fine. “Just send me the receipt once it’s checked, and I’ll wire you the money.” Seemed like a reasonable solution. With all this fuss, I didn’t even feel like playing anymore. Neither did anyone else; they were too busy gossiping. “Wow, how’s Harper so calm about this? That’s going to be at least a few thousand. She’ll need to skip meals for months to pay that off.” “She doesn’t even know what it’ll cost to replace the glass! She probably thinks it’s just a piece of cheap glass.” I keep a low profile at Westfield. I don’t flaunt my wealth, and though my clothes and dorm decor are nice, they’re discreet with no big logos. Most people can’t tell what brand anything is. In situations like this, I can’t just flash my bank balance and yell, “I’ve got money.” Whatever. I couldn’t care less what they thought. I grabbed my stuff and walked off the court.

Tyler caught up to me and put his arm around my shoulder. “Harper, are you upset?” It would be a lie to say I wasn’t. He hadn’t given my feelings a second thought. “Don’t be mad, okay? I did it all for you. Didn’t you notice I was giving you the ‘play along’ look?” I honestly hadn’t. “By calling you out, I was trying to get Chelsea to drop it. As long as I showed I was on her side, she wouldn’t make it worse for you.” Is that how it worked? I wasn’t convinced. “Besides, I kept stressing that you couldn’t afford it, thinking Chelsea would let it go. But you didn’t get my hint at all and offered to pay right away!” It’s just a bit of money. Our cook spends more than that on groceries. Why waste time arguing? “Look, Harper, I’ll cover half of it for you.” I waved him off. “No need.” “We’re a couple. When we get married, it’ll all be shared assets anyway. Half and half sounds about right.” He took my hand and smiled sweetly. Turns out his “planning” was really just his practical thinking for our future together. Nice to know. I leaned into him. “What are our plans for tomorrow?” Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, and my family didn’t know I was dating anyone. My brother, Damon, who swore we two single “loners” needed to stick together, wanted to take me out. Tyler sighed, “Harper, I have to tutor tomorrow.” Oh. I had hoped he’d meet my brother. I felt a bit let down. But he looked determined. “It’s all for our future.” Tyler was always working so hard. As his girlfriend, it made sense to support him. “All right, then.”

Early Valentine’s Day, Tyler asked me to come downstairs. He was holding a bouquet of red roses and a beautifully wrapped gift bag. The moment he saw me, he gave me a big hug. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. I can’t stay long, but we had to keep the tradition going, right?” I thought I wouldn’t get to see him, but he’d clearly prepared a gift in advance. We chatted briefly, and he left. I happily went back to my dorm and opened the gift. It was a YSL gift set. My roommates gasped. “Wow, Harper, your boyfriend really spoils you!” “He must’ve spent a lot. No wonder he’s been so busy. He’s been working extra to afford this!” Tyler had given me what he thought was his very best. I was pleased. Jessie, my roommate and a beauty blogger, gave the box a long look but stayed quiet. She had a sharp eye for quality, so when she didn’t react, the other two hesitated to keep praising. “Jessie, is there something wrong?” I asked. She picked up the lipstick, examining it with a hint of reluctance. “I’m not completely sure. Let me check with a friend.” My heart sank. I’d never thought much about fake products or the difference between genuine and counterfeit. But if Jessie had doubts, there was a strong chance it was a fake. Out of consideration, she offered to double-check with someone. My other roommate consoled me, “Harper, maybe Tyler doesn’t know about luxury brands and got scammed.” “Yeah, straight guys can’t tell the difference between real and fake products.” They had a point. I messaged Tyler, “Where did you buy this gift set?” A few minutes later, he replied, “From the official store.” He even attached a screenshot of the purchase record. Could fake items show up in an official store? Or maybe Jessie was wrong this time? Tyler: “Is something wrong, babe? Don’t you like it?” Me: “No, it’s great. Thank you.” Tyler: “As long as you’re happy. I have to go tutor now, but let’s talk later, okay?” Damon took me to Lakeside Amusement Park, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Then, Jessie sent me another message, “It’s fake.” She shared some comparison photos of real and fake products. “Tyler probably bought it from an off-brand store.” She even sent a link to a $100 YSL gift set that matched mine exactly. “If he told you the truth, maybe he really thought YSL was that cheap. But if he’s lying, you should think twice about staying with him.” I was at a loss for words. I asked her, “Could the official store sell fakes?” “No way. This set is so obviously fake. If an official store ever sold counterfeit goods, they’d at least make it harder to spot.” But Tyler really did have a screenshot from the official store. I sent it to Jessie. She replied, “What if the official store gift wasn’t meant for you?” Good point. What if Tyler bought one from an off-brand store and one from the official store, one for me and one for someone else? That would explain it. But no—Tyler would never do something so low, right? We’d been together for over a year. We were solid. He’d never betray me like that. But just then, I spotted a familiar figure in the crowd. It looked like Tyler. Wasn’t he supposed to be tutoring? What was he doing here?

I was about to go after him when Damon returned with an ice cream cone. “What’s up?” he asked, noticing my expression. “I thought I saw a friend.” But in the blink of an eye, that familiar figure vanished. I licked my ice cream, then texted Tyler: “Where are you?” It took him half an hour to reply: “I’m tutoring.” Almost as if to prove it, he sent a picture of a kid bent over their homework. “Miss me already? I’ll come find you when I’m done, okay?” Once a seed of doubt is planted, it takes root quickly. I wanted to video call him right then. But with Damon next to me, I held off. After turning down yet another girl who asked for his number, Damon finally turned to me. “You don’t seem too happy, Harper.” “Mhm.” “No Valentine’s gift?” he guessed. I shook my head. Damon didn’t care what I was thinking, though, and snapped his fingers. Out of nowhere, a whole bunch of guys dressed like wannabe “princes” surrounded me. “Pick one, or a few, and they’ll keep you entertained.” This was classic Damon—wild and unpredictable. I mean, how was I supposed to handle ten of them? “Hey, Damon, I…” He gasped in mock surprise, “What?! You want all of them?” “When did I say that?!” He shrugged. “Fine, fine, only kids choose. We’ll take them all!” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just go grab dinner, Damon,” I said, trying to keep my irritation in check. The guys he brought in were attractive, sure, but I had a boyfriend. It didn’t feel right. That was, until Jessie texted me again. Jessie: “Harper, aren’t you with Tyler today?” Me: “Nope. He’s tutoring. I’m out with Damon.” But then she sent me a photo. It was Tyler and Chelsea at the claw machine in the same amusement park. The amusement park we were currently in. And this place isn’t cheap—at most places, tokens are a dollar each, but here, they’re ten. Every round at the machine costs twenty. Chelsea’s arms were full of stuffed animals. Knowing Tyler’s skills, it’d probably taken him at least ten tries to win each one. So he’s spending hundreds on claw machines for Chelsea, while he bought me a $100 knock-off YSL gift set? Jessie: “Do you want me to keep an eye on them? I can stay back.” Me: “Don’t worry about it, Jessie. I’ll handle it myself.” I’d had enough. I called Tyler, and after four unanswered calls, he finally picked up on the fifth. “Harper, what are you doing? I’m tutoring, and the kid’s parents are sitting right here!” he said, sounding irritated. I took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “Video call me.” “I’m busy, Harper. Do you know how tiring tutoring is? Can you please not be so unreasonable?” His frustration was obvious. He wasn’t even trying to hide his irritation anymore. “So, am I the one being unreasonable, or are you feeling guilty about something?” I asked, my voice cool. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m working hard for our future, and here you are questioning me?” Our future? His idea of a future meant cozying up to a wealthy girl like Chelsea? Not on my watch. I hung up, sending him the link to the off-brand gift set and the photo of him with Chelsea. I left one final message: “We’re done.” And then I blocked him across the board. How long had this been going on with Chelsea? And that YSL set—the real one was for her, wasn’t it? Chelsea, the so-called high-and-mighty rich girl who claims she hates secondhand and vintage. Isn’t it funny that she’d go for someone else’s boyfriend?

After dinner, Damon drove me back to campus. I’d barely made it a few steps when a bank notification came through. It was a transfer of fifty grand from Damon. Damon: “Sis, just a little spending money—retail therapy makes everything better, right?” I was still grinning at my phone when I heard a loud shout behind me. “Harper! Never thought you’d turn out to be such a gold digger!” It was Tyler. My smile vanished as I turned around, expression already set. I tried to walk away, but he grabbed my arm, refusing to let go. “I saw you getting out of that Maybach! Who the hell were you with today?” Was he seriously pulling this? Fine. He wanted a confrontation? I’d give him one. “You never went to tutor anyone today, did you?” He let out a slow breath. “No, I was with Chelsea. I figured if I made her happy, she’d let the whole watch thing slide.” I couldn’t believe this excuse. Did he really expect me to believe he was doing this “for me”? And on Valentine’s Day, of all days? Softening his tone, he tried again, “Harper, I did it for you.” I let out a laugh, cold and sharp. “For me? Did I ask you to pay her back for that watch? Did I ask you to waste money at the amusement park with her? Or to get her a bunch of claw machine toys?” He froze, speechless for a moment. I continued, “Tyler, the next time you try to pass the blame, do me a favor—find a better excuse.” I took a step back, putting space between us. But he reached for my hand, gazing at me like he thought he could sweet-talk his way out of this. “Harper, I care about you.” Now, I felt nothing but disgust. “I just…look, I’ll be a senior soon. And I need to start getting serious about finding a good internship.” Right. And Chelsea’s family ran a business. I understood exactly what he was getting at. “Oh, Harper, you know what they say: a relationship without financial stability is just like sand—it blows away with the first breeze. I’m only trying to build a better life for us.” I almost burst out laughing. Tyler Young, quoting The Big Dream like he thought he’d get brownie points for it. “Cut the crap, Tyler. Just admit you’re after the easy route. Using ‘a better life’ as your excuse is nothing but a smokescreen to hide your own insecurity and selfishness.” “Us? No way. You can keep your knock-off Valentine’s Day gift set. I’ll give it back tomorrow,” I said. “My parents gave me enough real things—I don’t need some dollar-store mascara. I mean, the cheap junk might just give me a rash.” “I showed you the receipt! Who told you it was a knock-off, anyway? That ‘influencer’ roommate of yours? She’s just jealous!” His voice was rising, his face twisting with anger in a way I’d never seen before. You know the saying: “The louder the voice, the weaker the argument”? That was him, in a nutshell. Tyler assumed I couldn’t tell the difference between real and fake brands, and that I’d just believe whatever he said. As if Jessie would be jealous over a fake $100 set. She received PR packages from brands all the time. What would she need to envy? “The real set—the one you bought at the flagship store—you gave it to Chelsea, right? Buying knock-offs and passing them off as high-end? That’s some impressive penny-pinching.” Tyler finally snapped. “Once you give a gift, there’s no taking it back!” I smirked. “Oh, perfect. Then I’ll toss it in the trash.” “Transfer me back the $138!” Was he serious? Sure, it was a hundred bucks, something I’d normally never think twice about. But this wasn’t about the money—it was about not putting up with his nonsense. I scoffed, “Wait—did you forget to buy shipping insurance on it?” He froze. Of course, he had. “Tell you what—I’ll let Jessie return it tomorrow. I’m not sending you a dime.” He pointed a finger in my face, furious. “Harper, you’re just a greedy, materialistic user! Cheap and pathetic!” Oh, so he wasn’t broke—he just thought I wasn’t worth spending anything decent on. I looked down at myself. A custom bag worth over $30K, a pair of shoes that ran close to nine…my outfit alone could cover a down payment on a house in some cities. And he thought I wasn’t “worth it”? “You couldn’t even shine Chelsea’s shoes!” he spat, and for a second, my throat went tight with tears. This was how he really saw me—as a discount option. Staying there any longer, I’d only embarrass myself. I turned and walked away. But even as I tried to leave, he wouldn’t stop. “Harper! Nobody else will treat you like I did! Everyone else just wants to mess around with you! You think you’ll find someone who actually cares?” “Forget ever seeing me again! Chelsea’s already agreed to be with me! You’ll come crying back, just watch!” I sped up, mortified. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be shouting. I might be embarrassed, but not as much as he should have been.

Heartbreak? That’s what shopping sprees are for. Damon really got it—retail therapy was the cure. Afterward, I headed back to the dorms, arms full of bags, and handed out gifts to my roommates. Jessie was holding a brand-new Dior bag, eyes wide. “Harper, where did you hit the jackpot?” I just smiled and kept quiet. Jessie was seriously loyal. The second she heard about Tyler’s betrayal, she made a video about it, telling her followers every ridiculous detail. She left out the names but let her followers know she was a student at Westfield. Now, everyone was trying to piece together who this cheapskate was. Someone even brought it up on the Westfield Confessions Board. Tyler better lay low for a while, or someone would inevitably connect the dots. On Friday afternoon, I headed over to the student council meeting. As I reached the door, I heard voices already chatting inside. “Wonder how she got so much money to buy all those bags—her ex Tyler says she’s been playing both sides. She’s got a rich guy giving her gifts but won’t let go of ‘ol Tyler the up-and-coming success story either.” Only Tyler would say something like that. Referring to himself as a “rising star,” what a joke. “Even if she is getting bags from some rich dude, she wouldn’t flaunt it so obviously, right? I bet that bag’s fake…” “Yeah, exactly! She said she’d buy Chelsea a new watch after breaking her old one. That was a Cartier, not a cheap knock-off!” I was enjoying listening in when someone suddenly tapped my shoulder. Before I could react, they covered my mouth to stifle my yelp. I turned around—it was Logan, the student council president. He motioned for me to stay quiet, letting go of my mouth before standing by the door to eavesdrop with me. Wasn’t Logan usually all business and aloof? I never expected him to join me in something like this. The conversation inside didn’t seem to be going anywhere, though, and after a few minutes, Logan leaned in and whispered, “Had enough?” I nodded. He gestured for me to step aside, then pushed the door open and strode in. The room fell silent immediately. I waited a moment before following him inside. Chelsea’s friends, who shared her department, looked me up and down. I casually placed my brand-new Hermès bag on the table right next to Chelsea’s LV, making a clear statement. This wasn’t about competing; it was about cutting Chelsea down a peg. She couldn’t handle it. “Harper, can I see your bag?” she asked, forcing a smile. “Go ahead.” She inspected it thoroughly, practically needing a magnifying glass for every detail. Finally, she looked up and asked, “Where’d you get it? The details look surprisingly realistic.” The not-so-subtle implication was clear. “Oh, it’s authentic,” I replied, sipping my bubble tea. “I picked it up at the mall. But you—usually carrying LV and Chanel—how come you know so much about Hermès?” Who says I couldn’t throw some shade? Chelsea’s bags were all entry-level. The idea she could spot a fake Hermès was laughable. Her face turned red as she stammered, “My mom’s a big fan of Hermès.” “Oh, then it’s your mom who’d know what’s real—not you, right?” Her expression darkened. Seeing her at a loss for words, her friends jumped in to back her up. “If you can afford Hermès, Harper, why haven’t you paid Chelsea back for her watch? It’s been fixed for weeks. Are you hoping she’ll just forget about it?” “Yeah, Harper, don’t be generous with yourself and stingy with others.” Chelsea had never shown me the receipt for that repair. And right then, it all clicked. She wasn’t upset about the watch or looking to be reimbursed. She wanted to humiliate me. Who plays basketball wearing a pricey watch, anyway? She’d set the whole thing up to make me look bad. The thing is, I wasn’t the “broke student” she imagined. I could pay. “What’s the cost, Chelsea? I’ll send it over now,” I said, pulling out my phone. With a smug expression, she tilted her head. “$7431. But I’ll knock off a few bucks—just make it an even $7400.” I wasn’t about to let her act like she was doing me a favor. I intended to pay down to the last penny. But just as I began typing in my password, a hand covered my phone screen. “That won’t be necessary.”

Logan, who’d been busy setting up the projector, was now beside me. “According to the US Civil Code, Section 1176, anyone who participates in an activity with inherent risks isn’t entitled to claim damages for accidents caused by others during that activity,” he said calmly. “Unless there was intent or gross negligence involved, that is.” He continued, “A cracked watch face doesn’t amount to ‘gross negligence,’ and Harper had no intention of causing damage.” His voice was clear, each word sharp and precise. I was floored. This was a solution I’d never considered. Logan had been away at a competition the day of the game—how did he know so much about it? Chelsea hadn’t expected Logan to interject, and despite her nerves, she put up a front. “You weren’t even there! How would you know she didn’t do it on purpose?” she blurted. Logan didn’t so much as flinch. If anything, he looked amused. “Several New Media staff members were at the game, and some of them recorded it on video.” He held up a USB. “I’ve already downloaded the footage. If you’d like, I can play it for everyone.” Chelsea’s face turned ghostly pale. Logan didn’t hold back, adding, “If anyone acted on purpose, it would’ve been you, Chelsea, angling to bump into Harper.” The student council president wasn’t just logical—he was relentless. He finished with one last comment: “Before you try pulling stunts like this, Chelsea, you might want to brush up on the law.” The entire room erupted in whispers. “She really thought Harper would be an easy mark!” “I mean, Chelsea’s got money. Would she really do all this over a few thousand?” “Oh, come on—haven’t you heard? Tyler, Harper’s ex? He’s been hanging around Chelsea non-stop…” That hit the nail on the head. “People are saying that viral post about the world’s stingiest boyfriend? They think it’s Tyler! I mean, who does that? Buying legit gifts for the side chick and scamming his girlfriend with fakes? Guy’s a piece of work.” “I saw Jessie’s video about it too. I couldn’t stop laughing—he really thinks people are that dumb? He probably thought a knock-off would pass as the real deal!” “Those two can just stay together. Please, don’t let them drag anyone else down!” Chelsea’s face turned a dark shade of red. Her glare was cold enough to freeze a room, aimed straight at me like I was her sworn enemy. I simply looked back, unfazed. Finally, she muttered something about feeling unwell and bolted out of the room. Once she’d left, Logan turned to me, smiling faintly. “Doesn’t the air seem a bit fresher now?” I flashed him a thumbs-up.

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“Honey, the baby and I are heading out,” I called, standing at the door with the stroller. I took one last look at my husband, sprawled on the couch watching a football game. Silently, I bid him farewell in my heart: Oh, darling, may you rest in peace. Chapter 1 “Honey, Xixi and I are heading out,” I called, pushing the stroller towards the door. I took one last look at Yannick sprawled on the couch watching the game. Silently, I bid him farewell in my heart: Goodbye, dear husband. Have a nice trip to hell. Back at work after maternity leave, I was missing my baby girl terribly. Unable to wait until the end of the day, I made an excuse to my manager and headed home early. As I approached our apartment door, I heard voices inside. “Don’t worry, she won’t be back for at least another two hours,” a man said. It was my husband, Yannick. “Hmph, who was it that spent half an hour putting your precious daughter to sleep last night, neglecting me?” a woman replied coyly. My mind went blank. I heard Yannick patiently coaxing her: “Once she’s dead, my daughter will be your daughter too. The baby’s too young to know any better – whoever feeds her is her mom.” Soon, unmistakable sounds of intimacy reached my ears. I stood frozen, realizing with horror that my husband was cheating on me. Yannick and I were high school sweethearts. We went from school uniforms to wedding gowns. After three years of marriage, life had settled into a quiet routine. Earlier this year, he quit his programming job to open a small shop, saying he wanted to help care for our daughter after she was born. He didn’t want me to be a “widow with a child” – raising our baby alone while he worked long hours. I was moved to tears at the time. Business at the shop was decent, and Yannick hired an assistant. During my pregnancy, he doted on me endlessly. Just last night, we were planning to move out of this apartment building next month. We had already finished renovating our new house and the formaldehyde smell had dissipated. I was full of hope for our future together. I never imagined reality would hit me like a ton of bricks. It was a scorching August afternoon, the sun merciless at 3pm. I don’t know how long I stood there before I saw a tall woman with wavy hair walk out of the building. I hid behind a car, catching my reflection in the window – my postpartum body looked swollen and out of shape. There was a time when I too was slim and took pride in my appearance. Yannick had weak sperm. He said he didn’t care if we had a boy or girl, as long as we had a child of our own. Otherwise his life would be meaningless. For that, I endured hundreds of hormone injections before we finally conceived our daughter. It was nearly 6pm when I returned home with groceries. Hearing me, Yannick shuffled out in his slippers. “You’re back, honey. I made some mung bean soup – it’s in the fridge. Want some?” “Sure, pour me a bowl,” I replied casually as I changed my shoes. But my mind was reeling from what I’d overheard earlier: “Once she’s dead.” Yannick wanted to kill me. Not only was he cheating, he wanted me dead. Perhaps the shock had numbed me, but I felt eerily calm. At dinner, Yannick mentioned his mom wanted to come help with the baby, since I was back at work and he was busy with the shop. I thought for a moment and asked, “But we only have one bed. Where would your mom sleep? Why don’t we just move to the new house in the next couple days?” To my surprise, Yannick fell silent. “I can sleep on the couch. It’s fine for summer. You two can take the bed.” I nodded. “Alright, it’ll be nice to have your mom’s help.” I’d found it strange before – our new house had been ready for a while, but Yannick kept putting off moving in. Now I understood. He was planning to move in with his mistress after getting rid of me. After cleaning up, I put Xixi to sleep. Yannick pulled out an insurance policy for me to sign. He’d first brought up insurance when I got pregnant, saying we needed to plan ahead now that we were parents. An accidental death policy would provide security for our child. So his policy and mine both listed our daughter as the sole beneficiary. It sounded perfectly reasonable. “The accidental death benefit is $100,000?” I asked, looking at the payout amount on the policy while secretly clenching my fist.

Just then, our neighbor Mrs. Wilson dropped off some peaches. She said a friend had given her a whole crate and she couldn’t eat them all. “What are you two up to?” Mrs. Wilson adjusted her reading glasses, her gaze falling on the insurance papers on the coffee table. Yannick explained, “Oh, Chloe and I are thinking of getting some accident insurance.” “Look, it says here it pays out $100,000. Is that for real?” I asked in a deliberately naive tone. “Yannick compared several insurance companies and says we should buy now before the prices go up. He’s been pestering me to sign.” Mrs. Wilson’s interest was piqued. “Oh my, insurance is painful to pay for but really comes through when you need it. My husband was diagnosed with lung cancer recently and the critical illness policy our son bought paid out $30,000!” Yannick gave me a “see, I told you so” look. “I don’t know much about insurance. He says it’ll give us peace of mind,” I shrugged. “Maybe we should think about it some more.” Mrs. Wilson agreed with me: “Accident insurance isn’t the same as health insurance. In life, you’re much more likely to get sick than have an accident.” Mrs. Wilson didn’t notice, but Yannick’s expression froze for a few seconds when she said that. “Insurance is all about protection. You never know if tomorrow or an accident will come first,” Yannick joked. “If I die, at least I can leave some money for you and Xixi.” I punched his arm. “Don’t say things like that.” “Tsk tsk, you shouldn’t joke about such things,” Mrs. Wilson waved her hand. She chatted with us a bit more before leaving. Before bed, I went to the bathroom to wash up. “Bzzt bzzt” – A faint noise came from the water heater. This water heater was quite old. We’d bought it used from the previous tenants when we moved in. Last year we’d talked about replacing it with a new one, but since we were planning to move to the new house soon, we’d been making do with it. I stood there holding my toothbrush cup, staring at the old water heater lost in thought. Back in bed, Yannick was still on his phone. When he saw me come in, he quickly flipped the screen face down on the sheets. There was a baby monitor on the bedside table so I could check on Xixi while at work. “Honey, do you really want to buy that accident insurance?” I asked, raising my voice slightly. Hearing me say that, Yannick suddenly rolled over. “That insurance is really good, let me tell you…” He launched into a long analysis of the benefits. I yawned. “Alright, it’s too late now. Let’s sign tomorrow.” “Okay!” In the dim light, I saw Yannick’s eyes gleaming with excitement. The next morning, I went downstairs and was about to ride my electric scooter to work when Yannick rushed out holding the insurance papers, urging me to sign. Just then, Mrs. Wilson and some other neighbors were returning from the morning market. Seeing us, they asked, “What’s Yannick holding there? He looks in such a hurry.” “It’s that insurance from last night. He wants me to sign it,” I said as I wrote my name ‘Chloe Sharp’. I smiled at the neighbors, “What can I do? He makes the big decisions in our family. Gotta run, I’m going to be late for work!” I rode off on my scooter. In the rearview mirror, I saw Yannick holding up the signed paper and kissing it, his whole demeanor radiating joy. At work, I sent Yannick a text: Honey, the water heater at home seems broken. Can you take a look? Ten minutes later Yannick replied: OK, got it. The perfunctory response was expected. He was probably daydreaming about moving into a big house with his new wife after getting the huge insurance payout. How could he be bothered about a water heater we’d used for 7-8 years? I typed into the search bar: “What causes a water heater to explode?” After browsing the results, I deleted all my search history.

At 5:30pm, the new intern Yonng noticed I hadn’t moved and asked with a smile, “Chloe, aren’t you in a hurry to get home to your little sweetheart today?” “My husband’s looking after her,” I said, waving my phone which showed the bedroom camera feed. Yannick was bent over the crib, playing with Xixi. “I’m going to stay late and finish the monthly report.” “Ugh, you’re making us single people jealous again!” Yonng said enviously. “I need to find a husband who’s willing to look after kids too!” I smiled without responding. From now on, I wanted everyone around me to think Yannick and I were blissfully in love. After finishing the report, I was about to leave when Sam from IT walked over and whispered, “Just a heads up – don’t use the company computers for personal stuff these days.” “Why not?” I asked. “Well, with the company’s performance down last quarter, management’s cracking down on discipline. They’ve got us monitoring the backend to see if anyone’s browsing shopping sites or celebrity gossip during work hours…” Sam shook his head helplessly. Then he seemed to remember something and asked, “By the way, what’s wrong with your water heater? I saw you searched about it quite a bit.” I froze, my whole body tensing up. Then I realized – why should I be nervous? I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was just concerned about potential safety hazards with our home appliances, that’s all. “Oh, I came across some videos of water heaters exploding. It was pretty scary. And our water heater at home is pretty old too,” I said casually. “Water heaters should be replaced after about 8 years, right?” Sam said. His phone rang and he turned away to answer it. I clenched my slightly trembling fingers and left with my bag. It was almost 8pm by the time I got home. Yannick was humming a tune and taking photos of Xixi curled up on the sofa with a camera. When he saw me come in, a flash of unease crossed his face. “Did you buy that?” I asked, pointing at the new outfit Xixi was wearing. “Yeah, just got it delivered today,” he said, putting down the camera. “Are you hungry? Want to go eat at the restaurant downstairs?” “When did you buy a camera? You never mentioned it,” I walked over to the sofa and picked up the camera, flipping through the photos. I noticed Yannick’s composition was really professional, even better than the professional photographer we hired for Xixi’s one-month photos. Yannick’s expression turned hesitant. “I… I was afraid you’d say I was wasting money… But babies change so much every day, I wanted to document her growth.” “You could have discussed it with me. Just don’t keep secrets,” I said, still scrolling through the photos. Suddenly Yannick snatched the camera away. He had me sit on the sofa and started massaging my shoulders. “Honey, you’ve had a long day at work. Don’t get upset over little things like this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the camera, okay?” I looked at the man in front of me. “I never knew you were so good at photography.” “I just learned recently. It’s not that hard,” Yannick said, picking up the camera again. “Honey, strike a pose. Let me take a few shots of you.” Just then, Xixi suddenly started crying. I quickly went to pick her up. “Go take out the trash,” I told Yannick. “And pick up two takeout meals on the way back.” “Okay,” Yannick was about to grab his phone. “Leave it charging,” I said, pulling some cash out of my pocket. “Here’s some money. Might as well use it up.” Yannick took the money without hesitation and left with the trash bag. I watched from the window until he exited the complex, then immediately grabbed Yannick’s phone and unlocked it. The password was Xixi’s birthday. Out of trust, I had never checked Yannick’s phone before. This was the first time. He was so confident leaving his phone at home, certain that I would never invade his privacy. I opened WeChat and saw several new messages from a contact named “AAA Alina – Bloom Kidswear”.

The latest one said: “Hiking is the easiest way to create an accident. There’s no one in the mountains…” I couldn’t see the rest of the message since Yannick hadn’t opened it yet. I couldn’t click in to view the full chat history, but I could guess what it was about. The insurance policy was just signed, and they were already itching to put their plan into action. I put the phone back and picked up the camera to continue looking through the photos I’d been viewing earlier. I noticed several shots of Xixi wearing a thick baby sleeping bag. From the camera angle, it seemed the focus wasn’t on Xixi, but on the clothes themselves. Babies actually have a higher body temperature than adults. In several photos, Xixi’s hair was damp with sweat. Anger boiled inside me. Just then, Yannick returned. “Why did you take these? It’s 30-40 degrees out – what if she overheats?” I demanded, holding up the camera. Yannick froze for several seconds before walking over to explain: “The seller said they’d send another sleeping bag for free if I posted photos. Don’t worry honey, I had the AC on when I took the pictures.” I stared straight into his eyes. “You made our daughter sweat buckets just for a free piece of clothing?” Yannick’s anger flared. “What the hell, Chloe? What are you implying? She’s my own daughter – you think I’d abuse her?” “Why are you getting so defensive? Did I say you were abusing her?” I shoved the camera in his face, raising my voice. Yannick knocked the camera out of my hand and stormed out. SLAM! The door slammed shut. I closed my eyes and comforted Xixi, who was startled by the noise. Yannick didn’t return until almost midnight. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m sorry honey. I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you.” I didn’t respond. Soon, he spoke again: “Let’s go hiking in a few days. Once my mom gets here, she can watch Xixi. It’s been so long since we’ve had time to ourselves.” Yannick’s tone was almost pleading, reminiscent of when we first started dating. Indeed, you can never truly know what’s in a person’s heart. Even with years of shared history, it’s impossible to see through someone’s facade to their true nature. When a man falls out of love, he can turn into a demon, wearing a mask of false kindness as he plots to take your life. “Hiking?” I feigned confusion. “I thought you didn’t like hiking.” “That was before. What programmer likes hiking? We’re exhausted enough as it is,” Yannick said wistfully. “But now that I run my own little business, I can manage my own time. It’s good to get out and exercise.” Yannick continued, “I looked it up – there’s a mountain nearby that doesn’t get many tourists. The scenery hasn’t been modernized, and it’s far from the city center. People online say the air there is amazing!” I listened silently. “You’ve really done your research.” “Of course! I upset my dear wife, so I have to make it up to her,” Yannick hugged me tight. “We can buy a tent and go camping outdoors, just like in college. We’ll stargaze and watch the sunrise. It’ll be wonderful. What do you say, honey?” “Get off, it’s too hot,” I pushed him away. “Let’s decide after your mom gets here. I’m worried she won’t be able to handle Xixi on her own.” Yannick said confidently, “As long as you want to go, my mom won’t be a problem!” I stared silently at the ceiling, inwardly scoffing. He sure was eager to get rid of me. At 2am, after feeding Xixi, I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I turned on the shower. The water rushed loudly, and the old water heater emitted a low hum. Water heater explosions are probabilistic – there’s no way to guarantee an accident will happen at a specific time. Although our unit had reached its maximum lifespan, that didn’t mean it would definitely explode. But if the thermostat, overheat protection, and pressure relief valve were all damaged, who knows what could happen. I tested the water temperature with my fingertips, lost in thought.

Yannick’s mother arrived a few days later, laden with bags and a basket of farm-fresh eggs. “Look at you, just standing there,” she said to me with a smirk, then jokingly scolded Yannick: “She’s a mother now but still doesn’t know how to be helpful around the house.” I took the woven bag from her hands. “Mom, you must be tired from traveling all day. Don’t get upset over little things – it’s bad for your health.” My mother-in-law sat on the sofa with a smile. “My health is just fine. Don’t jinx me!” I was at a loss for words. My mother-in-law always had a smile on her face when she spoke, but her tone was cutting. She always left me feeling stung, not knowing how to respond. She had never approved of me, thinking her son who worked at a prestigious tech company could find a woman with better prospects. Yannick brought his mother a glass of water. “Mom, Chloe and I are planning to go hiking this weekend. Can you look after Xixi for a couple days?” “Fine, fine,” she muttered. “It’s so hot out. You two must be bored out of your minds.” That evening after dinner, Yannick insisted on taking me shopping for camping gear. He seemed unusually excited. “We’re leaving in three days! We haven’t been on a trip together since you got pregnant. I can’t wait! Are you excited too, honey?” “Me? Well…” Last night I had adjusted the water heater temperature to 50°C, but when I used it today the actual water temperature was much higher. As I suspected, the thermostat was broken. No wonder the water had been so scalding hot lately. The overheat protection had clearly failed too, causing it to keep heating continuously. Looking into Yannick’s eyes, I smiled and nodded. “I’m looking forward to it too.” When we got home, Yannick’s mom and Xixi were already asleep. The next day Yannick went to mind the shop. I dressed Xixi and started eating breakfast. “Let’s put this in the living room. I can’t sleep well with it watching me,” my mother-in-law said, moving the baby monitor that was originally on the bedroom nightstand to a shelf behind the TV. She muttered, “What a waste of money, buying useless gadgets.” “Mm, okay,” I had barely finished speaking when there was a knock at the door. It was Mr. Lee, the repairman I’d called to check our appliances. “You must be Mr. Lee,” I said, stepping aside to let him in. I led him to the cramped bathroom. “Our water heater’s been making strange noises lately and the temperature is unstable. Can you take a look and see what’s wrong?” Mr. Lee looked up at the wall-mounted unit. “How long have you had it?” “Almost 8 years,” I said.

“Daisy, mommy’s going to the restroom. You stay right here and wait for me, okay?” I looked at the young Janine Brooks, barely in her twenties, and felt a moment of confusion. Seeing me remain silent, she let out an awkward laugh. “My little Daisy isn’t much of a talker,” she explained to the people around us before disappearing into the crowd. It all came rushing back to me. She didn’t dare sell me outright, so she found an excuse to leave me here. In reality, she was calling the traffickers. In my previous life, I didn’t know this. I believed she had really gone to the restroom and waited obediently like a fool. Soon after, a woman dressed similarly to her came and took me away. I was terrified and cried desperately, but the woman insisted that I was just throwing a tantrum after waiting too long. No one around us thought anything was strange. That’s how I ended up shoved into a car, taken to the traffickers’ hideout. They blinded me and threw me onto the streets to beg. At the time, I truly believed it was just bad luck. I kept hoping she would come back to save me. I waited for five years. During the freezing winter, I knelt in the snow with thin clothes, my hands and feet blistered from the cold. The summer was worse. Sweat would trickle into my open wounds, the sharp sting making me cry out in pain. That’s when I realized that crying could make people feel sorry for me. A little blind girl, as skinny as a stick, crying nonstop — it tugged at people’s hearts. I became good at it, and the money I begged for gradually increased. Slowly, I was able to eat, and the beatings went from daily to every three days. But the darkness around me wasn’t just physical. It consumed my entire life. I had nothing left to hope for. My entire being became numb, like the walking dead. I got very sick, a sickness that went deep into my bones. When the traffickers were about to sell me to a gang in rural Mexico, a group of police officers stormed in. That’s when I found out that the little boy who had been following me around, limping, was Ryan Pierce, the youngest son of the Pierce family. For five years, Michael and Linda Pierce never gave up looking for him, and they took down a number of human trafficking rings in the process. This time, they finally found Ryan — and they saved me too. Ryan told them that without me, he wouldn’t have survived. To thank me, Michael Pierce gave me the name Ellie Pierce and adopted me. Ellie, like the first light of dawn. Linda Pierce felt sorry for me and hired the world’s best doctors to perform surgery, restoring my sight. But Ryan’s leg could never be fixed. I snapped back to reality and glanced at the clock hanging in the mall, breaking out in a cold sweat. Five minutes had passed. The traffickers Janine Brooks contacted would be here any moment! I turned and ran. This time, I would never fall into their hands again! “Hey? Where are you going? Didn’t your mom tell you to wait for her?” People around me tried to stop me. But I knew if I didn’t run, I’d be doomed to the same tragic fate as before. I had forgotten, though — I was only four years old! My legs were short, and my stamina was weak. A man easily grabbed me. “Daisy, where do you think you’re going?” My scalp tingled with fear. That voice — it was the same man who had blinded me! I wanted to scream for help, but my throat felt like it was blocked. Years of terror made me instinctively start trembling. Tears rolled down my cheeks in big, silent drops. The man smiled and pulled me into his arms. “Daddy’s here, Daisy. Be good, don’t cry.” He sounded like a kind, loving father. No one around us doubted his words. Because I had run, the woman from my previous life didn’t show up. Instead, they sent a man, stronger and more determined. They were sure they would get me this time. Was I really out of options? Would I have to live through that nightmare again? Despair engulfed me, making me cry even harder. Suddenly, I spotted the newly opened KFC in the mall. I forced myself to stop crying and yelled out, “Daddy! I want French fries!” The man hesitated for a moment, clearly not expecting me to call him ‘daddy.’ His brow furrowed, and he started walking faster. When he ignored me, I screamed even louder. “I want French fries! Bad daddy! You bought some for my brother, but not for me!” “I have my own money! Let me go, I’ll buy them myself!” I started thrashing, reaching out to pull a nearby woman’s hair. “Auntie! Buy me some fries! I’ve got money! My dad is being unfair!” The woman yelped in pain. “Let go of me!” She glared at the man. “What kind of father are you? It’s just fries. How could you deny your own daughter something so small?” She tried to pry my hands out of her hair. The man got angry. “Mind your own business!” He yanked me up, squeezing my waist hard. His other hand reached for my flailing arm. I screamed, let go of the woman, and clung to the man’s head, blocking his face with my body as I thrashed around. “If you don’t give me fries, we’ll die together!” The fries were just an excuse. What I really wanted was to end it all with him. I’d rather die than live through that endless darkness again! Fueled by sheer willpower, I found strength beyond my small body. I yanked his hair, pinched his ears, and covered his nose. “Why can my brother have KFC, but not me? I haven’t eaten in two days!” The man stumbled, struggling to keep his balance. “You little brat, let go of me!” I cried even harder, grabbing his head with both hands. “Daddy doesn’t love me!” A crowd had gathered, all pointing at the man. “How can people still act like this in this day and age?” “This isn’t just favoring boys over girls, this is abuse!” The man was enraged and in pain. As he finally began to fall, he reached out to grab me. “You little—” I screamed and thrashed, “Daddy, don’t kill me!” I kicked him hard in the eyes. “My eyes!” he yelled. I almost laughed. How much damage could a four-year-old really do? Unfortunately, I couldn’t blind him for real. But I kept up my terrified act, scrambling away. Finally, some bystanders intervened, holding back the furious man. “It’s just a kid, and all she did was kick you! No need to go overboard!” “Yeah, don’t take your anger out on a child. Your eyes aren’t even injured.” “Relax, this mall is super safe. No one’s getting kidnapped here.” I zigzagged through the crowd and hid in a small storage room. The painful memories of my previous life flooded back. No. I wouldn’t go through that again. I still had to save Ryan, and my adoptive parents. Back then, when I was thrown into that van, there were already several other children inside. One of them was Ryan, and his legs were still intact. By the time we were brought back to the hideout that night, there were over ten of us, and none left unharmed.

At the time, I fought desperately, but it was useless. A sharp pain hit me, and my eyes closed. I passed out. When I woke up, a small child was leaning against my back. When I moved, he woke up and started crying softly. I was used to soothing my baby brother, so I instinctively patted his back and asked, “Baby, are you hungry?” The baby was Lucas Brooks, my little brother. He was the family’s treasure, while I was the extra baggage. Whenever he cried, I got scared. If I didn’t calm him down quickly, I would get beaten for no reason. But this child was easier to soothe than my brother. He immediately stopped crying and touched my eyelids. “Does it hurt?” Did it hurt? No one had ever asked me that before. Tears started pouring down my face. “Yes.” I hadn’t realized it before, but being cared for made me feel weak. I didn’t even know you could cry without having eyes. Panicking, the boy wiped away my tears with his small hands. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. Your wounds will get infected.” “Don’t worry, I can still see.” “Are you hungry?” He spoke softly, and then he put something in my mouth. It was sweet and delicious, something I had never tasted before. “What is this?” I asked. “Chocolate. I have lots at home. When we get out of here, I’ll give it all to you.” I smiled through my sniffles. “You should keep it.” I had a feeling we might never make it out, and worse, we might not survive at all. That night, two children didn’t make it. I overheard them talking about selling our organs. Hearts, lungs… everything had a price. I trembled in fear. People were just like pigs to them, sold off in pieces. “Check if there are any more who won’t make it. We’ll send them all off together.” Someone began checking each of us. The boy next to me was burning up. I knew he had a fever. I kept putting my hands on the cold floor and then pressing them to his forehead. Soon, the men reached us. “This girl is well-behaved and pretty. She could be useful in a few years.” “Heh, even the little ones now?” They grabbed my chin, discussing me with disgusting smiles. When they’d had enough of their jokes, they pushed me aside. I held onto his hand tightly. I was afraid that if I let go, I wouldn’t be able to find him again. Sure enough, one of the men said, “This boy’s got a fever.” “Of course he does, you broke his leg!” “It’s not too bad. Let’s keep him a couple more days.” Their voices faded as they walked away. I breathed a sigh of relief and loosened the boy’s shirt. “Are you okay? Loosen your clothes a bit, and the fever will go down.” He seemed to still be conscious, turning over to cooperate. “You know how to cool someone down?” he asked weakly. “I’ve done it for my brother.” I looked after him for three days. We were ‘lucky’ enough to survive. We watched out for each other and made it through five years. I searched my memory. We had been taken away in a white van. If I could find that van, I could save Ryan! But with my small body, I’d be caught the moment they saw me. Not to mention Janine Brooks was still out there. If I escaped, would the traffickers send her to get me? She was my legal guardian. No one would question her if she took me. But what if I wasn’t me anymore? An idea flashed through my mind, and I started searching the storage room. I found a pair of clippers. I shaved off all my hair and turned my clothes inside out. I looked like a scrappy little boy now. I stuffed a sharp tool into my pocket and quietly slipped out, heading for the mall’s back entrance. The traffickers wouldn’t park at the main entrance. If I was lucky, I’d find the van soon, memorize the license plate, and call the police. Not just Ryan — all the kids could be saved! But luck wasn’t on my side. I’d barely taken a few steps when Janine Brooks spotted me. She grabbed me by the collar and yanked me up. “You little brat, think you can run away?” In the air, I grabbed onto the leg of the woman I’d pulled hair from earlier. “Help me! I don’t know her!” I looked up and realized it was the same woman. She blinked at me in surprise. Then she pulled me into her arms. “You’re not her mother! She came here with her dad!” I clung to her like she was my lifeline. “Sister, help me! My mom is the wife of Michael Pierce! Can I borrow your phone?” “She’s a trafficker! She wants to sell me!” Janine Brooks’ face turned pale. “What nonsense are you spouting? I’m your mother!” I quickly spoke up. “Sister, she shaved my head to make me look like a boy! Help me, my mom is rich. She’ll thank you!” The woman took pity on me. “I’ll call your mom right away.” She believed me and pulled out her phone. “Do you know her number?” I nodded vigorously. In my past life, after Ryan disappeared, my parents never changed their numbers, hoping for any call with news. Janine Brooks stared at me in disbelief and called my name again, “Daisy?” I ignored her and clung to my savior, crying. “Sister, the traffickers parked a white van by the back door! There are lots of kids inside. Please help them!” I was so specific that everyone thought I’d just escaped from there. In a flash, they all rushed to the back door, and sure enough, there was a white van. Even the security guards gathered, and after hearing what was going on, they pried the van open. But it was empty. Everyone looked at each other in confusion, and I froze. Did they leave early because I escaped? Panic washed over me, my palms clammy with cold sweat. Janine Brooks, who had been terrified just moments ago, regained her composure. She rushed forward, trying to grab me again. “I told you she was making it all up! You’ve all been tricked by a little kid! There were never any traffickers!”

The woman holding me took a few steps back, avoiding any confrontation. “Don’t lay a hand on me. Even if the van is empty, this still isn’t your kid!” Having seen me with my ‘dad’ and hearing my phone call, she had no doubts about the identity I had created. I clung to her, full of gratitude. “Thank you so much! My mom is on her way!” Involving Ryan meant I knew Linda Pierce was already en route. Janine Brooks rolled her eyes at me. “You little brat, I just went to the restroom, and now you’re running around calling random people ‘Mom’? You’ve really lost it!” She flashed a photo from her phone. It was one she had accidentally taken of me while trying to capture a picture of her precious son. “Look at this! I took this at home!” she said, showing the picture. In the photo, four-year-old me was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing it clean, while a little boy lounged on the couch, stuffing strawberries into his mouth with one hand and tossing the strawberry tops at me with the other. A few people around us couldn’t help but look uncomfortable at the sight. “Even if she’s your kid, isn’t it a bit much to have someone this young doing that kind of work?” “Yeah, that looks like child abuse.” Someone pieced things together from the earlier incident with the man. “So you are her mom, and you’re just like her dad!” Janine didn’t bother defending herself anymore. She lunged toward me, trying to grab me back. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re trying to steal my kid?” Seeing the woman holding me hesitate, I decided to shout, “You took money from the traffickers! You want to sell me! This is child trafficking, and you’re going to jail for it!” “Shut your mouth!” Janine’s face turned red as her scheme was exposed. “You tricked me into going to the restroom, but you were actually calling the traffickers! Deleting the call logs won’t help — the cops will find out!” As everyone gasped, I threw in another bombshell. This was something Janine had once boasted about to me in my past life, just before drugging me. By then, the Pierce Corporation had been divided, and everything had fallen under the control of Michael Pierce’s brother. Janine had revealed all her deceit to me while I was slipping into unconsciousness. It was then I realized how foolish I’d been to wait five whole years, expecting the person who had orchestrated it all to come and save me. But now, before Linda arrived, news came that the entire mall had been locked down. Not just this one — the entire shopping district was sealed off temporarily. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in my chest. The Pierce family had already made their move! With no one able to leave, the crowd settled in to watch the drama unfold. It didn’t take long for the security guards to detain Janine. “Until Mrs. Pierce arrives, you’re not going anywhere,” one of them said. Janine didn’t believe I actually knew anyone important, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “Why are you restricting my freedom?” Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires pierced through the noise. A deep purple Rolls-Royce Cullinan roared into view, stopping with a dramatic spin right in front of everyone. The door flew open, and Linda Pierce jumped out of the driver’s seat. “Who made the call?” she demanded. She was as bold as ever, but her flawless makeup had started to smudge, revealing a hint of exhaustion beneath her strong demeanor. In my previous life, she hadn’t crumbled when Ryan went missing. Instead, she encouraged her husband to continue the search, and together, they combed the entire country. It was her perseverance that eventually saved us. Could someone like her really have suffered from depression and taken her own life? Doubts began creeping into my mind, but I shoved them aside for now. I scrambled over to her. “Mom! I know where Ryan is! He was taken in a white van, and if we don’t hurry, they’ll break his leg!” A flash of panic crossed Linda’s face, and she quickly pulled out her phone. “Contact Chief Thompson immediately! Block every white van that left Midtown Shopping Center in the past hour.” After giving the orders, she turned to the crowd. “Thank you all for helping us find a lead. Each of you will receive a $10,000 reward. Please wait a moment while I speak with…” She looked at me. I straightened up and replied, “My name is Ellie!” I much preferred Ellie over the name Daisy. She nodded, picking me up and placing me in the car. “I need to have a word with Ellie.” The promise of money sent the crowd into a cheer, and some even nudged Janine toward the security guards. I quickly added, “Mom, she’s working with the traffickers! She just called them!” Linda didn’t even have to respond. The security guards jumped in eagerly, taking Janine into custody. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Pierce. We’ve got her.” Linda nodded, then closed the car door and turned to me, her face full of concern. “You’ve seen Ryan? He gave you my number? Did you escape from the van? Why didn’t he come with you?” The questions came fast and hard. But seeing my mom alive and well for the first time again made me choke up. I threw myself into her arms, tears flowing uncontrollably. After a long moment, I finally managed to speak through my sobs. “Mom… I missed you so much!” Linda froze for a moment as she held me. “What did you just call me?” she asked, her voice soft but surprised. “N-Nothing.” I quickly pulled away from her embrace, stumbling over my words. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pierce. I just really like you.” Linda chuckled softly. “Well, even though it’s our first time meeting, I like you too.” She handed me a bottle of water and said kindly, “Take a drink. When you’re feeling better, tell me everything that happened, okay?” “Okay!” Her warmth soothed my nerves, and I slowly recounted how Janine had tricked me and how I had escaped from the man. I also told her about Ryan, pretending that I had overheard everything while being held by the man. “How did you know my phone number?” she asked. I smiled. “I saw it on TV.” As the vice president of Pierce Corporation, she naturally had a public contact number. Linda pulled me into another hug. “Ellie, you’re amazing!” Her praise was genuine. After all, who would expect a four-year-old to remember a phone number from a brief TV appearance? Once she had reassured me, Linda made a few more phone calls. It didn’t take long before the police arrived and joined the security guards in the mall’s surveillance room. Within minutes, Janine Brooks was handcuffed. She hurled insults at me as they dragged her away. “You ungrateful brat! I raised you, and this is how you repay me?” “You should’ve gone with them willingly — at least you’d be of some use!” “She’s my daughter! If I want to sell her, I can! What right do you have to arrest me?” Every word stabbed deep, revealing her cruelty and stupidity. And every word was evidence. Linda covered my ears. “Don’t worry, Ellie. Your mom’s here now.” I hugged her back, my heart aching and filled with gratitude. Mom, this time, I won’t let you suffer from depression! As much as Janine hated it, the police took her away. The crowd cheered and looked at me with sympathetic eyes. Linda carried me to the car, ready to offer me some words of comfort, but then her phone rang. The good news was that there had been only one white van leaving Midtown Shopping Center in that time frame. The bad news was that the van had already left the city limits, and they’d lost it on surveillance.

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The pervert senior who plays very well × the frustrated substitute me In the utility room, he, who was drunk, pressed me on the table. The sports rope I had intended to give him now bound my wrist with an unyielding grip. No matter how much I pleaded, he showed no mercy. With a firm hold, he removed my glasses, waving them mockingly before tossing them out the window. Then he pulled my shoulder hard and said to me in a threatening tone, “I told you, this is more like her.” I cried and watched him leave teeth marks all over the place, feeling heartbroken. He is my senior, Liam Brown. We first met in the Go club, and he and I were assigned to the same group. I knew that he had a fierce style of play, and one would loose repeatedly as soon as he started playing. At that moment, I was wiping the sweat from my brow while stealing glances at his face. My hands shook as I played, anxiety flooding me. I didn’t expect that he would suddenly hold my chess-playing hand, tilt his head and smile, then handsomely help me move the chess piece to the correct position. The chess pieces were cold, but his fingertips were warm. The strange touch shocked my pupils. He is…so charming! As a boy, I fell madly in love with another boy! To pursue Liam Brown, I dedicated myself to my studies and successfully gained admission to his university. The bad news is that the person he likes is a girl. But the good news was that she had rejected him and was planning to go abroad. I knew my chance had finally come, but I never expected it would mark the beginning of my suffering. hat day, I used all my savings to treat my senior to an extravagant dinner. He smiled and said to me, “You’ve made a fortune.” But there was an undeniable loneliness in his eyes. I nervously sat next to the senior and poured him a glass of wine. Let him cry to me about how much he likes that goddess. That was my first time drinking foreign liquor. The blend of bitterness and sweetness coursed through my already fragile stomach, but for the sake of my senior, I downed it anyway, ignoring my stomach’s protests. And he drank a lot. Of course, I had my own intentions. I want to get my senior drunk so that I can get him. After I downed more than ten cups, my senior was completely drunk. I removed my glasses and finally found the courage to speak my heart. A little boy tells all his secret love for another boy without any scruples. I cried and pleaded with Liam Brown not to hate me, desperately asking if he could find it in his heart to accept me. I expected the senior to refuse me. But he opened his eyes wide and grabbed my shoulders. He kept repeating the goddess’ name, Vivian. Then he kissed me without any hesitation, “Don’t go.” That night, we booked a room at the hotel near the school gate. He was drunk and transformed into a different person—tying me up and gripping my throat with anger, demanding to know why I wanted to leave. I really want him to sober up, but I know that he will definitely hate me when he really wakes up. After all, I turned him gay when he was drunk. So, I hugged the unconscious senior and told him that I was Vivian. In that moment, I thought it might be nice to experience some affection from him, even if it was fleeting, so I let him treat me however he pleased. When I woke up the next day, my senior looked at me with disgust. Then he asked another girl out to hang out. Before leaving, she left a message: “If you weren’t a bit like her, I wouldn’t even say a word to you, die.” I held my aching waist and thought it was all over. Who would have known that from then on, whenever the senior drank too much, he would come to me, Same room, same bondage, and ferocity, The difference was that Liam Brown kissed me more often in the following encounters. He proposed to me that we should develop a secret relationship until Vivian came back. “Why me? What about those girls who are chasing you?” I asked. He leaned against the bed, smoked a cigarette, squinted his eyes and said, “With you, no one will suspect anything.” “Of course, I can still have fun with other girls at the same time..” At that moment, I realized that Liam Brown was not the man I imagined. He was not the gentle boy who plays chess in the afternoon, but a scheming, selfish, playboy scumbag. But I still said nothing, just nodded silently and let him continue. I still feel a little guilty, after all, I was the one who got him drunk and forced him to have sex. Deep down, I knew that every time he treated me roughly, it was because he had someone else in his heart. But he said he wouldn’t be so nice to Viviani, so these are specially prepared for me, So overall, he still likes me a little bit. I remained silent, a flash of happiness flashed through my heart. I naively thought that the companionship of the later comers really touched him. Until I saw Vivian, wearing branded clothes, walk up to Liam Brown and say confidently, “I’m back. You said you liked me before, does that still count?” Liam Brown pushed away my hand on his shoulder and said, “Of course it counts.” It was then that I came to my senses and realized that I had always been a substitute. He deleted my contact information without even looking back. I turned to my goddess and told her I was just an annoying classmate, not even a friend. The goddess smiled and said, “Of course, how could you possibly want to be friends with him? He’s obviously a jerk.” “Of course.” Liam Brown glanced at me, without any emotion in his eyes. At that moment, what I heard was not only the sound of a broken heart, but also the sound of a broken dignity. That night, I couldn’t help but vomit into the toilet. It was the first time I felt so miserable. At first, I thought I was just emotionally hurt and didn’t take it seriously. Until later, I started to vomit constantly, couldn’t eat anything, often felt dazed, and lost weight. I went to the hospital, where the doctor delivered the devastating news: I had gastrointestinal cancer and needed to be hospitalized immediately for treatment. The doctor noticed my dazed expression and reassured me, saying, “Don’t worry; it’s not in the late stage yet. If you cooperate with the treatment, you’ll be fine.” I held the medical record in my hand and thought about how I had to force myself to drink with Liam Brown every time. I felt it was not worth it. I also thought about how Liam Brown always gave me whatever I wanted, and I found it ridiculous. I shook my head and laughed at myself, and my heart ached slightly. Look, she insisted on chasing after a scumbag, only to be abandoned without a single glance back and left with a terminal illness. I left the hospital in a daze and squatted at the hospital entrance, but the first person I wanted to contact was Liam Brown. I felt like a jerk, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to say goodbye to him. After all, this is the first boy I liked, and he is the Go boy in my memory. Just as I was about to dial his number, I saw his name flash across my phone screen. Why was he calling me? Was he finally going to apologize? I took a breath and told myself that I should never forgive him, but say goodbye cleanly and start over. But when I picked up the phone, Liam Brown’s drunken voice slurred through the receiver. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer my calls? Come to the school utility room. I’ll be waiting for you here.” I thought he would have a change of heart, and even brought a farewell gift so that we could part ways amicably. The result was that they were forced to have sex in the utility room…

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