Category: English

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

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

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

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

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1 After Gwen was laid off, Owen took some annual leave to accompany her to the coast to clear her head. To keep me from overthinking, he casually dragged me along too. The three of us went beachcombing on the rocky shore. Gwen suggested a contest to see who could gather the most shells and crabs. I fell for it, carrying my little plastic bucket deep into the jagged reef. The tide rushed in fast. Waves rolled up, layer by layer, and a sudden, sharp pain shot through the sole of my foot. A piece of discarded broken glass had sliced right into my heel. “Owen, help me! I’m hurt!” But when I turned around, the rocky shore behind me was empty. I called his phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Clutching the sharp rocks, I limped back to the shore, one excruciating step at a time. By the time I finally collapsed onto the sandy path, a text message buzzed on my phone. It was a photo. Owen’s bucket was completely empty. Gwen’s bucket, however, was overflowing with crabs and glossy clams. Judging by the sheer volume, they had spent the afternoon filling it together. “Hey babe, I was carrying both buckets and couldn’t grab my phone. Gwen got a whole haul and I came in dead last. How did you do, Nora?” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. I had been missing for two hours, and all they cared about was who won the game. My foot was still bleeding, pulsing with sharp pain. I booked the earliest ticket out of the coastal town for the next morning. This trip was meant to comfort her anyway. I was never supposed to be here. I hailed a local moped taxi and rode alone to the small clinic. The doctor frowned as he used tweezers to pluck the shards of glass from my flesh. “This is deep. How did you get here alone? Where are your friends?” The sting of the rubbing alcohol made my fingertips go numb. “They’re back at the house,” I murmured. After wrapping it up, I borrowed a pair of crutches. Clutching my empty bucket, I slowly made my way back to the rental cottage. Night had fallen completely. The coastal village was dark, punctured only by the occasional bark of stray dogs. I have always been terrified of dogs, and I trembled with every step. When I pushed the front door open, a romantic movie was playing on the TV in the living room. Owen and Gwen were curled up on the sofa. Gwen’s hair was freshly blow-dried, her soft sweater swallowing her small frame as she snuggled into the cushions. Owen sat right beside her, the remote in his hand. He only looked up when the door clicked shut. “Babe, where have you been?” “At the clinic. I cut my foot.” He jumped up immediately, taking the crutches and supporting my weight, his brow furrowing deeply. “How do you even manage to get hurt beachcombing? You need to be more careful.” I stared at him, throat dry, unable to find words. He took the empty bucket from my hand. “Well, the results are in anyway. Gwen took first place, you’re second, and I’m last.” Gwen poked her head over the sofa, teasingly sticking her tongue out. “Oh, stop it. You helped me the whole time. You didn’t even try to look for your own; you just kept flipping rocks for me. I wouldn’t have caught a thing without you.” I just nodded. The cottage was thick with the heavy scent of seafood. The dining table was piled high with a feast they had prepared. My stomach churned. I do not eat seafood. I had told Owen this dozens of times. That was why I wanted to change the destination when we first planned this trip. Back then, he had told me, “This is Gwen’s layoff trip. She’s devastated. We’re here to support her, so let’s go with what she wants. If you don’t eat seafood, we can just walk along the beach.” That was how I ended up dragged into this. Gwen was in high spirits. She brought a small pan out of the kitchen, smiling warmly. “Nora, I made something even better.” She poured the sizzling herb butter over the baked sea bass. The rosemary crackled against the crispy skin. Then she drizzled the white wine reduction along the side. “Owen just taught me how to do this today. He said it’s the best way.” My mind went slightly blank. I was the one who taught Owen that technique. Back when he had no appetite, I had prepared a baked fish for him at home. How to sear it, how to baste it with hot butter to crisp the skin, I had explained it to him step by step. Yet, Owen had never once cooked it for me. Now, he was teaching it to Gwen. Gwen flaked off a piece of the tender fish, blew on it, and laughed. “Who wants the first bite?” Owen settled me into a chair and immediately held out his plate. “Me!” Gwen dropped the fish onto his plate with a giggle. “It’s delicious! You weren’t kidding, you really are a chef!” “Oh, don’t tease me,” Owen laughed. “But a meal like this needs a drink. Let’s see what we’ve got.” He opened the fridge. “I bought sodas and wine today. What do you girls want?” Gwen raised her hand. “I’ll have my usual.” “Sprite and red wine?” “Exactly!” He poured the red wine into a glass, topped it with Sprite, and handed it to her. “Perfect match!” Gwen took a sip, then slid the glass toward me. “Want a taste, Nora?” Owen looked at me expectantly. “Try it, Nora. Gwen used to drink this all the time at the office. Sprite and red wine, it’s light and tastes amazing. Honestly, the first time she mixed it for me, I was blown away.” The cut on my foot throbbed. “I’m on medication. I can’t drink.” Owen finally seemed to remember I had just come back from the clinic. He slapped his forehead, looking genuinely remorseful. “Right, I completely forgot. What do you want to drink instead then?” My hand tightened around my glass. Before we left, I had specifically reminded him about a local brand of sparkling orange press that was only sold on this part of the coast. I had seen reviews of it online and wanted to try it for months. That morning, when he went out to get drinks, I had said, “Remember to grab me two bottles of that orange press.” He had promised so quickly back then. “Got it. How could I ever forget the things you like?” But he did. He smacked his forehead again. “Ah, damn it! I meant to get you that orange soda.” Gwen quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Oh, Nora won’t mind a little thing like that.” She grabbed a clean glass and poured me some Sprite. The bubbles hissed and popped. “This works just as well. Soda is soda, right?” She handed me the cup, her fingers catching the warm overhead light. Her nails were painted a glossy cherry red. The edges were perfectly neat, without a single smudge. “So, what do you think? Pretty, right? I brought my own polish, and Owen just painted them for me. I ruined my nails at a salon last week, and he promised he’d paint them for me if he got the chance, so I brought the bottle. I was worried he’d be clumsy, but he’s actually amazing at it.” So, while I was clutching the jagged rocks, limping back to shore with blood pooling in my shoe, Owen was sitting in this cozy living room, carefully brushing cherry-red polish onto Gwen’s fingernails. Gwen leaned her chin on her hand, looking at me with a sweet smile. “Does Owen do this for you at home too, Nora?” “No.” Owen cleared his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Stop teasing her. Nora doesn’t care for these kinds of things.” But I remembered when I had asked him to pick me up from the nail salon once. He had scowled at my freshly manicured hands. “The smell is toxic, and it’s a waste of money. Why do girls even like this stuff?” Yet here he was, painting Gwen’s nails with painstaking care. The seafood on the table steamed. Gwen ate happily while Owen kept piling food onto her plate, peeling shrimp and picking out fish bones for her. I sat there with nothing but a glass of Sprite. Out of the entire feast, there wasn’t a single thing I could eat. Owen finally noticed. “Why aren’t you eating?” “I don’t eat seafood.” “You’re just a picky eater, that’s why you’re so thin.” He turned back to Gwen with a chuckle. “See? Gwen isn’t picky at all. She eats small portions, but she’s always willing to try everything.” Gwen waved her hands defensively. “Oh, stop it!” Owen added naturally, “Back at the office, you’d always bring this tiny bowl, eat a few bites of whatever we had, and declare you were full. The whole department thought you were adorable.” Gwen blushed, tapping the back of his hand lightly with her chopsticks. “Be quiet.” Owen grinned and walked into the kitchen. When he came out, he held a small saucer. He placed a few peeled shrimp and a prime piece of fish belly on it, then slid it in front of Gwen. “You know what this is? Your kiddie plate! Remember when we got food and you insisted on a kids’ meal just because you thought the miniature plate was the cutest thing ever? We all died of cuteness!” Gwen blinked, her eyes curving into crescents. “You still remember that?” “Of course I do.” He couldn’t remember my seafood allergy, or my orange soda, or that I shouldn’t be drinking alcohol with my injury. But he remembered Gwen’s favorite drinks and every little detail of their shared meals. I quietly poked at the plain rice in my bowl. Owen sighed, getting up to rummage through a bag near the sofa. “Almost forgot, I still have some bread here.” He tossed a squished loaf of white bread onto the table. “Gwen slept in this morning, so I bought some bread in case she missed breakfast.” Gwen smiled. “I told you we wouldn’t finish all of that.” Owen pushed the bag toward me, his eyes lingering on Gwen. “See? It came in handy.” Then he looked at me. “There’s still half a loaf left. Eat some of this so you don’t starve.” The bread was dry and squashed. The sweet cream filling in the center had already been eaten; only the dry crusts remained. I tore off a piece and chewed. It was so dry it scraped my throat. Seeing me eat, Owen looked relieved. “That’s my good girl. We’re on vacation, Nora. You can’t be too picky. Just get some food in you and enjoy the trip.” I didn’t argue. I just lowered my head and forced the dry bread down my throat. At that table, two people feasted on fresh seafood. One sat chewing on dry, leftover crusts. Once they finished, Owen started clearing the table, offering to do the dishes. Gwen stopped him, glancing at my bandaged foot. “Owen, go sit with Nora. Her foot is hurt; she needs you. I’ll do the dishes.” Owen smiled. “No need. Didn’t we agree? I cook, you clean. But I’ll handle it tonight.” Gwen paused, then beamed. “You still remember our rule?” “Of course I do.” Owen took the plates. “Besides, Nora walked back on her own, so it can’t be that bad. She looks fragile, but she’s actually tough. She’s not that delicate.” I sat in my chair, the pain in my foot throbbing in waves. But Owen had already turned away, rolling up his sleeves. “The water is freezing tonight. I don’t want a pretty girl like you ruining her hands.” “Oh, Owen, you’re too good to be true,” Gwen hummed, turning to look at me. “Nora, you are so lucky to have him.” I clutched the dry plastic bag of bread, my mind utterly blank. Lucky? We had been together for five years. In all that time, he had barely stepped foot in our kitchen. “Let me help you clear the plates then,” Gwen said, humming a tune as she carried the dishes into the kitchen. “Careful, don’t drop them,” Owen called out. “Why are you nagging me like my mom?” “Because you’re clumsy. I have to keep an eye on you.” One washed, the other dried. The sound of running water, light laughter, and the dialogue from the movie melted together. The cottage felt warm, lively, and complete, like a home. Just not mine. I slipped the dry bread back into the bag. It was too hard to swallow anyway. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a notification from the transit app. The ticket for the 6:20 AM ferry and bus ride back to the city had been confirmed. I stared at the screen, and suddenly, the lingering ache of the evening didn’t seem so unbearable. Since I couldn’t get my foot wet, I wanted to take a quick sponge bath. I pushed myself up with the crutches, my heel stinging instantly. Owen was just coming out of the kitchen. I looked at him, but before I could speak, Gwen’s voice drifted from the adjacent bedroom. “Owen? Can you grab my pajamas for me? I forgot to bring them in.” Owen didn’t hesitate. He turned instantly. “Where are they?” “In the top zipper of my suitcase.” Gwen added with a giggle, “I would’ve asked Nora, but her foot is hurt. Nora, don’t get mad! Owen and I are strictly platonic!” Owen glanced back at me. “She’s not the jealous type.” Then he walked straight into Gwen’s room. He didn’t notice how hard it was for me to stand, let alone bathe myself. But he heard her request for pajamas perfectly. A moment later, Owen walked out holding a set of light satin pajamas. Wrapped inside them was a strawberry-print bralette. He caught sight of it and let out a soft laugh. “Gwen, the strawberries are a bit childish, don’t you think?” An embarrassed shriek echoed from the bathroom. “Owen! Shut up! You’re so gross!” Owen laughed, hanging the clothes on the bathroom doorknob. “Alright, alright, I’m not looking.” His voice was light, dripping with effortless playfulness. I kept my head down, using the wall to support myself as I hobbled into the other bathroom. Despite my care, a drop of water splashed onto the bandage. A sharp, searing pain shot up my leg, making me gasp. I leaned heavily against the sink for a long time, waiting for the agony to subside. When I finally came out, Owen was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He looked up. “All done?” I nodded. As if suddenly remembering, he asked, “Does your foot still hurt?” Before I could answer, Gwen emerged from her room, blow-drying her hair. “Owen, you promised you’d talk with me tonight. I’m still feeling really down. It’s just, getting fired is so embarrassing.” Owen set his phone down immediately. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. They didn’t deserve you. It’s their loss.” He walked over, plugged in the hair dryer, and gently lifted her damp strands, blowing them dry with practiced ease. “You always know just what to say,” she whispered. A quiet ache settled in my chest. In five years, Owen had rarely dried my hair. Whenever I asked, he did it begrudgingly, with heavy sighs, until I eventually stopped asking altogether. Turns out, he was capable of doing it willingly. He just didn’t want to do it for me. After her hair was dry, Owen turned to me. “Nora, I’m going to sit in her room for a bit to talk things through.” “Now?” “Yeah.” He softened his voice, as if trying to soothe me. “She just lost her job, and she’s emotionally fragile right now. I’m just going to talk to her, nothing else. Besides, if there were actually something going on between us, would I have brought you along on this trip?” I had asked him countless times to go on trips with me. A weekend getaway, a cabin in the mountains, anything. Every time, he had excuses. No time, too hard to get leave, travel is exhausting, we should just rest at home. But the moment Gwen got laid off, he took his annual leave, booked this rental, bought the tickets, and dragged me along as an afterthought. I looked at him and nodded quietly. “Go ahead.” He walked to Gwen’s door, then paused. “Make sure you sleep early. Don’t walk around too much on that foot.” Gwen poked her head out, offering a playful pout. “Don’t worry, Nora! I promise to return your boy in one piece later!” The door closed, leaving the cottage dead silent. But the walls were thin. I could hear every word from the next room. Gwen talked about the office, which boss was the biggest micromanager, which colleagues gossiped behind her back, the projects they had pulled all-nighters to finish. Owen’s laughter punctuated her stories. “You still remember that?” “Of course! You were so tired you almost poured coffee into the printer!” Gwen laughed even harder. “You weren’t any better!” Their voices floated through the wall, light, familiar, and filled with endless shared memories. Whenever I had asked Owen about his work, he would shut down. “I’m exhausted, Nora. Let’s not talk about work. You wouldn’t understand the office politics anyway. It’s boring.” It wasn’t boring. It just wasn’t meant for me. I sat on the edge of the bed, opened my suitcase, and began to pack. My clothes, my toiletries, my charger, my ID, and the medication from the clinic. My foot throbbed with every movement, but I kept going, packing everything away. By the time I finished, it was 1:30 AM. Owen hadn’t returned. At 2:00 AM, I heard the crack of beer cans opening next door. At 3:00 AM, Gwen started crying softly. Owen’s voice was low and tender. “It’s not your fault. You’re amazing. You’ll find something better, and I’ll be right there to help you search.” I lay in the dark, my eyes wide open as the sky slowly turned gray. At 5:30 AM, my silent alarm vibrated. I shut it off and stood up with my crutches. The house was quiet. The living room light was still on, casting a dim glow over the empty beer cans on the coffee table. Gwen’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. As my crutch brushed against the frame, the door nudged open a fraction. Inside, Owen and Gwen were asleep on the same bed. Gwen was curled up at the headboard, Owen’s jacket draped over her shoulders. Owen lay curled at the foot of the bed. They were on opposite ends, as if they really had just fallen asleep from talking too much. But looking at them, I didn’t even have the energy to demand an explanation. I walked to the living room, placed the room key on the table, and dragged my suitcase out of the cottage. The morning sea breeze was freezing. The shuttle driver loaded my suitcase into the trunk and looked back. “Anyone else?” I looked at the quiet, glowing cottage one last time. I shook my head. “No,” I said. “Just me.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “522232”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Three days before our graduation trip, my boyfriend, Connor, brought over a box of mystery travel scratch-offs for me to pick our destination. I scratched off three in a row, and every single one of them read: Montana. My best friend, Hazel, clapped her hands in excitement. She immediately pulled out her phone and canceled the beachside cabin I had spent weeks booking in Miami. I refused to believe it. I grabbed the coin and scratched off every single card remaining in the box. Every. Single. One. Said Montana. But I had been planning this beach trip for three years. The first year, Connor claimed his eczema would flare up if he touched saltwater. A week later, he accompanied Hazel to a crowded water park. The second year, he said he had a severe sun allergy and couldn’t be outdoors. Yet, I found their names written side-by-side on boat tickets from a trip to Lake Tahoe. And now, looking at the hotel reservations and train tickets already booked on Hazel’s phone, a profound exhaustion washed over me. The ocean you stood me up on, Connor… I’ll go see it by myself. I stared down at the scratched-off cards littering the floor. Hazel, completely oblivious to my silence, wrapped her arm around mine and began talking about what we should wear. “Fifi, I bought two matching outfits in a dusty wasteland style. Against the blue sky and green grass, we are going to look absolutely stunning!” She swiped through photos on her phone, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “I want to go to the beach,” I said quietly. Hazel’s cheerful smile faltered, her face dropping instantly. “Fifi, this is our only graduation trip. I promise I’ll go to the beach with you next time.” But Connor had promised me just two days ago that he would walk along the shore and collect seashells with me. Connor’s throat bobbed. Under my intense, steady gaze, he finally looked away and pulled up a ticket booking app on his phone. “Actually, I bought the train tickets to Montana a long time ago,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “The scratch-off box was just a fun little way to build some excitement. Besides, weren’t you excited just a second ago?” My fingertips turned ice-cold. I squeezed a scrap of the cardboard card in my palm. A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. “Come on, next time. I promise we’ll do whatever you want next time.” I had been hearing that promise for three years. He always had a different excuse. Eczema, sun allergies, busy schedules. I had waited and hoped, over and over again. But this time, I was done waiting. “It’s fine,” I said. “I can go to the beach by myself.” Connor froze, clearly shocked that I was openly disagreeing with him for the first time in our relationship. “Maybe I should cancel my ticket, Fifi,” Hazel said, hovering her finger over the screen with a look of mock regret. “I just don’t feel right going without you.” But her finger remained suspended, never actually tapping the screen. Connor reached out and grabbed her wrist, his grip tight enough to make his veins show. “Don’t do that,” he said quickly. “You’ve been researching Montana trails since last month. Canceling now would be a waste.” Meanwhile, my beach ticket had been refunded the exact second Hazel “scratched” that mystery card. The notification Refund Successful on my screen was blindingly bright. Connor looked at me, his expression softening as he tried to placate me. “Fiona, next month is your birthday. I’ll take you to the beach then, okay?” I raised my eyes and looked at him, my face entirely blank. “My birthday was last week, Connor.” His face stiffened. Last week, I had bought a small cake and lit the candles by myself. He told me he had to help Hazel with her dance club rehearsal. I sat alone until the wax melted into the frosting. He never showed up, and he never called. The built-up resentment in my chest suddenly surged, burning the back of my throat. I had been ignoring the reality of our relationship for so long, desperately lying to myself just to keep holding on. “It’s all your fault,” Hazel said, playfully pinching Connor’s side before turning to me with a pout. “He’s so forgetful, Fifi. Don’t be mad at him. Why don’t you just come to Montana with us? When we get back, we’ll absolutely go to the beach with you.” I took a deep breath, wanting to tell her that flights to Miami were still available. But Hazel had already turned around, pulling out her tablet to discuss the hiking route with Connor. They huddled close, their shoulders pressed together, her hair brushing against his cheek. There was no room for me in their world. “Make sure you practice your photography skills these next two days,” Hazel teased, forwarding several videos to Connor. “If my photos don’t look good, I’m never speaking to you again!” They looked exactly like a couple in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. “You’re a handful, you know that?” Connor laughed, his voice dripping with affection. I stepped back, quietly pulling out my phone. While they were busy flirting, I booked a one-way ticket to Miami, departing early the day after tomorrow. Three people made for a very crowded relationship. I was going to see the ocean on my own terms. The app showed the ticket was processing. Connor finally looked back at me. “Fifi, I sent you the itinerary.” I opened our chat window and scrolled through our recent messages. Four days ago, he was too busy helping Hazel with her thesis defense to have dinner with me. Yesterday, he bought a box of lemon tarts and pistachio macarons and asked me to deliver them to Hazel because she was mad at him. Every single conversation we had revolved around Hazel. I felt more like his administrative assistant than his girlfriend. “I don’t know what I would do without Connor,” Hazel giggled, sticking her tongue out playfully. “I’d probably lose my head.” I still had a detailed beach itinerary saved in my photo album. When I tried to show it to Connor a few days ago, he told me it was too much reading and walked away. My phone buzzed. Booking Confirmed. Looking at the destination on my screen, I felt a massive weight lift from my chest. I didn’t want to hear another word about Hazel’s perfect hiking outfits. I went back to my apartment. I pulled my suitcase from the closet and began packing my sunscreen and summer dresses. “Our trip isn’t for another three days, why are you packing now?” my mother asked, walking into my room. I didn’t answer. Instead, I grabbed the three boxes of travel toiletries I had bought for the three of us and tossed them into the trash can. My mother realized something was wrong. “Did you have a fight with them?” “Yeah,” I murmured, my throat tight. I picked up a green reusable water cup from my desk. Connor and Hazel had matching pink and blue ones that he bought during their trip to Lake Tahoe. He had bought mine online weeks later, choosing a green one because they were out of the other colors. I tossed it into the trash bag. Without their clutter, my suitcase felt incredibly light. When I went downstairs to throw out the garbage, I heard Hazel calling my name from a distance. She and Connor were walking toward me, wearing matching baseball caps in different colors. They had even swapped their shoelaces, tying one pink and one blue lace on each of their sneakers. I looked down at the matching couples shirt I was wearing. I had bought it two years ago, but Connor had never worn his. I was the only one who ever wore it. “Why did you throw your cup away?” Connor asked, frowning as he noticed the trash bag. “It cracked,” I lied. “Well, that’s perfect timing! We can buy a new one today,” Hazel said, grabbing my hand and squeezing my fingers. “I came to get you so we could buy some outdoor gear. We need to make sure you have everything for Montana.” Looking at her bright, cheerful smile, a dark thought crossed my mind. What would happen if I just didn’t tell them I was going to Miami? “Sure,” I said. I followed them into the sporting goods store, but instead of looking at hiking gear, I wandered over to the swim cover-ups. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hazel trying on windbreakers. Connor watched her with a fond, indulgent smile as she held a bright pink jacket against his chest. When he noticed me looking at a pair of beach sandals, he walked over and took them out of my hand, putting them back on the shelf. “These aren’t going to work,” he said, handing me a pair of sturdy trekking poles. “You need these for the trails in Montana. The sandals are for the beach.” I ignored him, picking the sandals right back up. I also grabbed a lightweight sun-protection hoodie. Connor’s brow furrowed. “Fiona, I know you’re upset. But I promise I’ll take you shopping for beach gear when we go next month. There’s no point in buying this stuff now just to let it gather dust.” I stared at him, my eyes steady and unblinking. “Who says I’m not going?” I brushed past him and went straight to the cash register to pay. Connor hurried after me, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise. “Mom?” I had heard his parents owned a shop nearby, but I hadn’t expected to run into his mother here. I offered a polite, somewhat awkward greeting. But before I could even raise my hand, Mrs. Brooks walked right past me, heading straight for Hazel. “Hazel, sweetheart! It feels like it’s been ages,” she said, taking Hazel’s hands in hers. “Why haven’t you and Connor come over to visit me lately?” She patted Hazel’s hands warmly, completely ignoring my presence. “You have to stay and have dinner with me tonight.” This was only my second time meeting Connor’s mother, and it was painfully clear she had no interest in me. I made an excuse about being busy, but Connor insisted on dragging me along to the restaurant anyway. The dinner was agonizing. Hazel and Mrs. Brooks laughed and chatted like family, with Hazel affectionately calling her “Godmama.” I sat in silence, sipping my water, until I couldn’t take it anymore and excused myself early. The cool evening air helped clear my head. When Connor came running out of the restaurant after me, I turned to face him, feeling entirely calm. “Let’s break up,” I said. The expression on his face went blank for a second. His shoulders tensed. “Fiona, I literally just brought you to have dinner with my family, and you want to break up with me?” I remained silent, remembering how Mrs. Brooks had brushed past me without a word, only to turn back and tell Hazel to visit her more often. Connor, take good care of Hazel. Don’t ignore your best friend just because you have a girlfriend now. I forced a small, tired smile. “You two make much more sense together. And your mother clearly prefers her.” Hazel rushed out of the restaurant, her eyes pooling with tears as she looked at me pleadingly. “Fiona, please don’t say that! You’ve got it all wrong. I was only talking to Mrs. Brooks so much because I didn’t want the dinner to feel awkward!” Connor grabbed my wrist, his voice rising in anger. “Hazel was just trying to make a good impression on my mom, Fiona. What did she do wrong?” I shook my head, pulling my wrist from his grip. His mother’s hostility during dinner was loud and clear. Even if we stayed together, there was no future for us. More importantly, his heart wasn’t with me. The sooner I ended this, the sooner I could heal. Without another word, I turned and hailed a taxi. Halfway down the block, I realized I had left my purse on the chair in the restaurant. I instructed the driver to turn back, and as I walked down the quiet hallway toward our private dining room, I heard Hazel sobbing inside. “What am I going to do? Is Fiona really mad at me? I can’t lose her as a friend, Connor.” My chest tightened, a familiar ache blooming in my throat. “And the way she was looking at you today… it was so strange,” Hazel sobbed, her voice trembling. “Do you think… do you think she found out about the library? Does she know you hired those guys to corner her back then, just so you could play the hero and rescue her?” It felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. I froze in the hallway, paralyzed. Three years ago, as I was leaving the university library at night, two men had started following me. Connor and Hazel had suddenly appeared, chasing the men away and walking me home safely. It was because of that night that Hazel and I became inseparable friends, and it was because of that night that I fell in love with Connor. My hands shook violently. My chest felt hollow, my throat dry. Connor’s voice was tight and anxious. “She doesn’t know. And besides, we didn’t actually let those guys hurt her, did we?” Hazel wrung her hands, her voice quiet. “Then why did she suddenly bring up breaking up? Is she really that upset about the Montana trip?” She reached for her phone to cancel her train ticket, but Connor stopped her, his voice softening as he comforted her. “We’ve postponed her beach trip plenty of times. One more time won’t kill her. I’ll make it up to her later. Hazel, I just want you to be happy.” I stood outside the door, the cold seeping deep into my bones. My entire relationship was built on a lie. I let out a quiet, bitter laugh, the last trace of warmth leaving my eyes, and pushed the door open. Hazel gasped, quickly wiping her eyes. Her nose was bright red as she forced a shaky smile. “Fiona! You came back! I was so scared you were gone for good.” She reached out to grab my hand, looking up at me with wide, pleading eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me.” I had loved her like a sister. We had filled out our college applications together, and my only birthday wish had been for the three of us to stay friends forever. And all this time, she had been laughing at me behind my back. “Hazel, is there something you’re keeping from me?” I asked. She didn’t expect the direct question. Her eyes darted away, and she remained silent for a long moment before shaking her head. “Of course not, Fifi. Did someone say something to you?” Connor watched me, his body rigid with tension. I pulled my fingers from Hazel’s grip, picked up my purse from the chair, and walked out. Hazel panicked, running after me and grabbing my coat from behind. “Fifi, you’re still coming with us tomorrow, right?” I didn’t answer her. Instead, I looked at Connor, whose face was a mask of anxiety. He forced a stiff smile and took my purse from my hand. “Come on, it’s just a trip. I’ll book the beach tickets right now. We’ll head straight to Miami five days after we get back from Montana, okay?” He pulled out his phone and booked the tickets. Within twenty seconds, the confirmation screen popped up. My heart remained dead and silent. It turned out that booking those beach tickets wasn’t difficult at all. It had only taken twenty seconds. I had just waited three years for them. Connor seemed to relax, his shoulders dropping as he insisted on driving me home. Hazel naturally slid into the front passenger seat. The dashboard still featured a pink custom decal that read: Princess Hazel’s Seat. When Connor first got his license, I bought him several cute car decorations, but he threw them all away, claiming they blocked his view. Yet, Hazel’s custom perfume bottle and matching phone mount were proudly displayed on his dashboard. I stared out the window, remaining silent as Hazel talked about wanting to eat bison steak two days in a row once they got to Montana. “Sure, whatever you want,” Connor promised, his voice soft and indulgent. Neither of them remembered that I had been a vegetarian for years. But it didn’t matter anymore. I watched the streetlights blur past the window. When the car finally stopped in front of my building, Connor looked back at me, his expression slightly apologetic. “Hazel has a lot of heavy bags, so it’s going to be hard to hail a cab tomorrow morning. I’m going to pick her up first, drop her bags off at the shipping center, and then meet you at the station, okay?” He reached out to pat my hair, but I flinched away. His hand hovered in the air for a second before he slowly let it drop. “Okay. See you tomorrow,” he murmured. I watched his car pull away, taking Hazel home. A notification popped up on my phone. My flight was departing in seven hours. I opened my weather app and checked the forecast for Miami. For the first time in years, my mind was completely at peace. The next morning, I arrived at the airport two hours early. Under the steady hum of the airport announcements, I went through security and boarded my flight. My phone vibrated constantly with messages from Connor and Hazel, asking where I was. I didn’t reply. I simply opened my gallery and stared at the photos of the ocean. Connor didn’t realize that the airport in Miami was right next to the beach, only a twenty-minute walk away. I didn’t have to wait for him anymore. I didn’t have to shape my life around Hazel’s tantrums. Two hours later, the plane touched down safely. The warm, salty ocean breeze hit my face the moment I stepped outside. I let out a genuine, happy laugh. I turned off airplane mode. The next second, my phone buzzed with a highly specific, custom ringtone.

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1 My childhood friend, Cody, dragged me into taking over a failing local zoo. Thanks to my ability to hear what animals were thinking, the zoo came back from the dead, pulling in a net profit of over a hundred thousand dollars in just one year. But when it came time for year-end profit sharing, Cody tossed a measly five thousand dollars onto the desk and tried to kick me out. “I hired a new keeper,” he said, not even looking at me. “He is more professional than you, and he works for less.” I stared at the stack of cash on the desk, my fists clenching tight. “We had an agreement, Cody. You put up the cash, I put in the labor, and we split the profits fifty-fifty.” “Labor?” Before I could finish, Cody slammed his hand onto the desk. “Zane, you spend all day playing with mute beasts. What kind of labor is that? If you’re so damn talented, why don’t you see if they’ll leave with you!” I swept up the cash and gave him a quiet nod. “Fine. You said it, not me.” Cody’s face was flushed, probably from the alcohol he had been drinking earlier. He seemed to have completely forgotten how we got here. During our first week of opening, the Solstice Zoo went viral because of a video titled Magic Bird Finds Tourist’s Lost Ring. In that video, a blackbird named Spike flew down on my command, carrying a diamond ring in his beak, and dropped it right into the tourist’s hand. After that, the crowd grew day by day. By the end of the year, this tiny, forgotten zoo had become a trending hotspot, raking in millions. All of that happened because I could communicate with the animals. But in Cody’s eyes, my entire value was limited to throwing feed and shoveling manure. To him, my sweat and tears were worth exactly five thousand dollars. Cody leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his legs and blowing lazy smoke rings into the air. “Lance has already arrived. He’s a professional animal trainer, and his social media presence is massive.” Lance? I almost laughed out loud. The guy was a fraud who failed half his classes in college and took six years to graduate. He had built a following on social media by crafting a witty, intellectual zoologist persona, but he knew absolutely nothing about actual animal welfare. The creatures in this zoo were going to suffer under his care. “I’ll leave,” I told Cody, keeping my voice calm. “But Kahn, Luna, and the other old-timers I brought down from Blackwood Mountain are coming with me.” Cody snapped, lunging over the desk. He blew a thick cloud of smoke directly into my face, making me cough. “Those are the stars of the show! You think you can just walk away with our cash cows? Don’t even dream about it. Besides, how are you going to prove you brought them? If you’ve got the guts, get them to walk back up the mountain with you!” I picked up my envelope of cash and nodded. “You said it.” As I walked out of the administration building, a furious scream erupted from Cody’s office. “Where did all this bird shit come from? It’s all over my windows!” I looked up. The culprit, Spike, was perched on a low branch, his dark tail feathers twitching proudly as if he were waiting for a reward. “The mountain can tolerate him, but this bird cannot,” Spike chirped, his voice buzzing in my mind. “I’ve mobilized a dozen of my crew. The second that bastard steps outside, he’s going to learn what shit luck really means.” To anyone else, the blackbird was just making random noises, but to me, his words were as clear as day. Blackbirds were notoriously vengeful creatures. Cody was in for a miserable few weeks, but he had brought it entirely on himself. “You heard him, Spike. We’re kicked out,” I said, gently stroking the bird’s back. He closed his eyes in satisfaction. “Want to head back to Blackwood Mountain?” “Hell yeah!” Spike chirped. “I’ve been sick of looking at that loser anyway!” I smiled, giving his tiny chest a gentle nudge. “Go tell the others to pack up. We’re going home.” I walked over to the tiger enclosure first. Kahn, our majestic Siberian tiger, was already pacing near the gate, his amber eyes filled with anxiety. “Spike told us what happened,” Kahn growled, his deep voice vibrating in my chest. “Is that little punk really throwing you out? He’s got some nerve!” To his left, Luna, our Asiatic black bear, slammed a heavy paw against the reinforced glass. “Boss, don’t use those human idioms. You’re insulting the punk! Besides, if we hadn’t wanted to help young Zane get on his feet, none of us old-timers would have ever agreed to leave the quiet of the mountain!” I felt a sudden pang of sadness. When Cody first wanted to open the zoo, I had begged these older animals for weeks before they finally agreed to come down and help me out. The younger, wilder beasts in the deep forest would never have agreed to live in cages. “It’s fine,” I whispered, patting the glass. “I got five grand from him. Once we’re back, I’m buying everyone premium steaks.” After comforting Kahn, I took my envelope of money and went to prepare the paperwork. The old Blackwood Mountain Zoo still existed, though it was remote and had been closed to the public for years. When I brought Kahn and the others down, we had registered them under a temporary loan agreement. Cody had probably forgotten that detail. What is borrowed must eventually be returned. And now, the lease was up. As I walked toward the exit, I ran straight into Lance, the “professional” keeper Cody had bragged about. He intentionally rammed his shoulder into mine as we crossed paths, sending my canvas bag tumbling to the concrete. The envelope of cash slid out, scattering a few bills. Lance looked down, a smug grin plastered across his face. “Well, look who it is. Zane, the college genius, kicked out like a stray dog.” He walked over and casually kicked the stack of bills, scattering the hundred-dollar notes across the dirt. “Oops, my bad. Pick it up. If you’re short a few dollars, let me know. Cody paid me thirty thousand just to sign on. I can easily buy you dinner.” I didn’t want to waste my breath on him. I knelt down to gather the cash, but Lance placed his expensive leather boot directly over the last hundred-dollar bill. He leaned down, tapping my cheek with two fingers. “Do you know why Cody was willing to pay me so much? Because I have followers. I know how to market. In this day and age, Zane, talent is cheap. What people pay for is a good story. Those animals of yours will be doubling our revenue within six months under my management.” He finally lifted his boot. I picked up the dirty bill, brushing off the dust. Money doesn’t lose its value just because someone steps on it. “Six months?” I murmured, looking at him. By tomorrow morning, there wouldn’t be a single animal left in this zoo. I booked a cheap motel room for two nights. If Pete hadn’t called me, I would have completely forgotten about our high school reunion dinner tonight. When I arrived at the restaurant, the voices from inside the private room were already loud and boisterous. “Zane is a total loser,” Cody’s voice boomed, thick with alcohol. “If I hadn’t thrown him a bone at my zoo, he’d be starving in the mountains. And the bastard actually had the nerve to ask me for a cut of the profits!” The other classmates laughed, chiming in with sycophantic praise. Only Pete tried to defend me. “Come on, Cody. Zane is just quiet. He worked his butt off for you, and didn’t he bring those animals from his family’s old place?” Cody scoffed loudly. “Please! He brought a bunch of half-dead, ancient trash. Nobody wants to see that! If it weren’t for my brilliant marketing, those animals would be completely useless. He’s been riding my coattails for years.” I couldn’t listen to another second of his lies. I pushed the door open. Pete immediately tried to smooth things over, but the atmosphere remained tense. Throughout the dinner, people made snide remarks about my sudden unemployment. “If you don’t have a place to stay, Zane, Cody’s garage is pretty spacious. Maybe he’ll let you bunk there.” I shook my head. “No need. Cody gave me five thousand dollars in severance. I can afford a motel.” They laughed, praising Cody’s generosity. No one mentioned the fifty-thousand-dollar bonus I was actually owed. I stood up, pouring myself a full glass of Baijiu. “I want to raise a glass to everyone. Tomorrow, I’m heading back to the mountains. You don’t need to invite me to these dinners anymore.” I downed the glass in one go and walked out without looking back, ignoring Cody’s drunken shouts and Pete’s calls to wait. The next morning, I spent a few hours finalizing the transit permits. I wanted to check on the animals one last time before the transfer, so I headed back to Solstice Zoo. I tried to walk through the employee gate out of habit, but the security guard stopped me. He pointed toward a sheet of paper taped to the glass. Written in bold, black letters was: No entry for Zane or dogs. “Sorry, Zane,” the guard said, looking slightly embarrassed. “Cody’s orders.” The tourists behind me were beginning to complain about the delay, so I stepped out of line. “Zaney! Over here! I have a way in!” Spike’s voice chirped from a nearby oak tree. He flapped his left wing, pointing toward the western wall. I followed him to a small, overgrown gap at the base of the concrete fence. It was barely big enough for a medium-sized dog to squeeze through. I stared at the hole, then at the blackbird. “This is your brilliant plan?” Spike hopped on my shoulder, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Spike always has a way!” To avoid his wrath and get inside, I sucked in my breath and crawled through the dirt, squeezing through the gap. As I walked through the service paths, I could hear the animals complaining. Lance had cut their fresh meat rations, replacing them with a cheap, processed slop to save on costs. I rushed toward the tiger enclosure. Kahn was the king of the mountain, and he had the shortest temper. When I reached the exhibit, I saw Lance standing inside the enclosure, kicking Kahn’s flank. Lance had removed the safety barrier, believing the animals were naturally docile. He didn’t realize that their gentle behavior was entirely due to my communication with them. “You lazy, ancient sack of bones!” Lance barked, kicking the tiger again. “You think you’re too good for this feed? If you don’t eat this, you’re going to starve!” He snatched the bowl of slop away, delivering one final kick to Kahn’s ribs. “Stop that!” I yelled from the spectator fence, my heart hammering against my ribs. But the crowd was too loud, and Lance didn’t hear me. He also didn’t notice that Kahn had lowered his massive chest to the ground, his ears flattened against his skull, his eyes locked onto Lance’s back. It was a classic hunting posture. Kahn was preparing to kill. “Wait, something’s wrong,” a tourist whispered, pointing at the tiger. “Usually, the tiger is so sweet. Why does he look so angry today?” “Yeah, and where is the young keeper, Zane? This new guy just kicked the tiger!” “Oh my god! He’s jumping!” With a deafening roar, Kahn lunged forward, slamming his massive paws into Lance’s chest and throwing him to the ground. Lance screamed in terror, his face turning pale as he scrambled backward in the dirt. I quickly pulled out the old wooden whistle hanging around my neck. I blew a sharp, piercing note that echoed across the enclosure. It was a whistle passed down through my family, a sound Kahn knew well. Kahn’s massive paw stopped just inches from Lance’s throat. The tiger looked over at me, blinking his golden eyes, and slowly relaxed his posture, looking as innocent as a house cat. “Look how worried you get,” Kahn’s voice rumbled in my head. “I was just checking if my teeth were as blunt as he claimed.” Luna, who had been watching the drama from her own enclosure, let out a low rumble of laughter. “I wanted to take a bite out of his shoulder, too. That cheap slop gave me terrible diarrhea.” To the tourists, the tiger and bear were just making terrifying wild noises. Lance was shaking, his shirt torn and covered in dirt. I jumped over the low barrier and dragged him back into the safety vestibule. Kahn hopped back onto his platform, completely unbothered. The tourists cheered from the viewing platform. “Zane is back! He’s the real deal!” Once Lance caught his breath, his fear turned into pure embarrassment and rage. “Who let you in here?” he snarled, immediately calling security. A few minutes later, Cody arrived, looking furious. “Cody, this tiger is wild!” Lance yelled, trying to cover up his own incompetence. “We need to use stronger measures to break his spirit.” “Don’t you dare touch them!” I snapped, pulling out the official transport permits. “The loan agreement is over, Cody. I’m taking them back to Blackwood Mountain today.” Cody snatched the papers from my hand. Without a word, he tore them in half and tossed them into the nearby duck pond. He leaned in close, whispering in my ear. “I have a massive anniversary event tomorrow. If anything ruins it, I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand?” I stared at the floating pieces of paper, my teeth grinding together. “What are you waiting for? Throw him out!” Lance shouted to the security guards. Before the guards could grab me, a flock of blackbirds descended from the trees, unleashing a targeted barrage of bird droppings directly onto Cody and Lance. The chaos allowed me to slip away. Before I left, I looked back at Kahn and whispered, “One AM. Beacon Street.” By midnight, Spike had located the keys to the enclosures, and our clever raccoons had managed to slide them out of the guard’s desk. The security guards were fast asleep, completely drunk on the leftover beer from the anniversary prep party. At one in the morning, the heavy iron gates of the enclosures slid open. Dozens of animals quietly walked out into the cool night air, following Kahn’s silent lead. I stood waiting at the end of Beacon Street, where the road met the forest trail. When they emerged from the shadows, every animal let out a soft, joyous sound of greeting. “Let’s go,” I smiled, looking up at the mountain. “Let’s go home!”

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1 Half an hour before the wedding rehearsal dinner, I told the wedding planner to scrap the original video. Her face went pale. “Miss Bennett, that video took three months to edit. Both of your families and all the guests are expecting to see it.” I slid a flash drive across the table. “Play this instead.” She opened the file. Ten seconds in, her fingers froze on the mouse. “Are you… absolutely sure you want to screen this?” I looked over at the massive LED screen dominating the ballroom. It was supposed to show a montage of my relationship with Gavin. But our eight years together amounted to so little that half of the three-minute video consisted of empty landscape shots. I had always told myself he was just quiet, a man of few words who didn’t know how to show affection. Until last night. I was setting up an old phone Gavin had passed down to me and noticed he hadn’t logged out of his cloud drive. Tucked away in a hidden gallery was a folder named: Three Thousand Days with Leah. It was filled with a tenderness he had never once shown me. In that single, quiet moment, the truth hit me. He wasn’t incapable of love. He was just incapable of loving me. So tonight, I was going to broadcast his three thousand days on the big screen at our rehearsal dinner. I was walking away from this wedding, but I wasn’t going to let the last eight years slip by in silence. Everyone deserved to see the truth. The screen flickered to life. It didn’t show a happy couple portrait. Instead, it split down the middle. On the left side, Leah sat before a glowing birthday cake, her eyes crinkling with pure joy. Gavin’s hand reached into the frame, gently lighting the candles. His voice, softer than I had ever heard it, murmured, “Happy birthday, my sweet Leah.” On the right side, a screenshot of our text exchange from that exact same night appeared. I’m at the restaurant. The food is getting cold, my message read. Below it, his brief reply: Stuck at the office. Don’t wait up. A collective murmur rippled through the ballroom. The video transitioned. On the left, a snowy landscape. Leah crouched beside a snowman, her nose flushed red from the cold. Gavin laughed behind the camera. “Put your gloves back on, silly. You’ll cry if your hands freeze.” On the right, a screenshot from a night I was burning up with a hundred-and-three-degree fever. My text asked: Are you coming home tonight? His reply: Leah wanted to see the first snow. I’m going to hang out with her for a bit. Just take some Tylenol. The next clip rolled. On the left, a rooftop at night. Leah stood wrapped in Gavin’s favorite coat, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Gavin’s voice was a soothing balm: “I’m right here. Don’t be scared.” On the right, a cold, clinical photo of an ER bay. An IV stand, alongside an emergency admission form for acute upper GI bleeding. There were records of six missed calls to Gavin, followed by his single text response: Something happened to Leah. Stop making a scene. I heard Gavin’s mother gasp from the VIP table, but she recovered quickly, slamming her hands down and standing up. “Turn it off! What is this garbage?!” Nobody moved. The planner glanced at me, and when I gave her a firm nod, she let the video play on. On the left, Leah leaned her head out of a passenger-side window, letting the wind whip through her hair. On the right, my message containing photos of various wedding gowns: Which one do you think looks best? His reply: They all look the same to me. But on the left, dated that very same night, was a text he sent to Leah: You’d look incredible in a mermaid dress. It would show off your waist. The room erupted into chaos. Whispers turned into open shouting. “What is going on?” “Is this a joke?” “Who is that girl?” “I thought they’ve been together for eight years!” Right on cue, the double doors of the ballroom swung open. Gavin walked in, car keys still dangling from his hand, with Leah limping slightly behind him. She was wearing a cozy white knit dress, her hair tumbling loosely over her shoulders, her eyes rimmed with red. The second she saw the massive screen, every drop of color drained from her face. Gavin stormed up to the stage. “Audrey, what the hell are you doing?” I picked up the microphone. “Showing everyone our walk down memory lane.” He lowered his voice, trying to contain his rage. “Have you lost your mind? With all these people here, you choose to humiliate us like this?” I met his gaze dead-on. “Oh, so you do care about who’s watching.” Leah chimed in, her voice trembling. “Audrey, please, it’s my fault. I sprained my ankle, and Gavin was just being a gentleman and taking me to the hospital.” “A minor soft tissue contusion,” I said, looking at her ankle. “The discharge papers recommend an ice pack and rest.” I tapped my phone, and her actual emergency room chart flashed onto the screen. “Gavin spent two hours holding an ice pack to your ankle while he missed his own wedding rehearsal dinner.” Leah’s bottom lip quivered. Gavin scowled. “She was completely alone at the hospital, Audrey. I couldn’t just leave her.” I nodded calmly. “Then go back and take care of her.” I slid my engagement ring off my finger and dropped it onto the silver tray on the podium. “I’m calling it off.” Gavin’s mother rushed forward, her heels clicking furiously against the floorboards. “Audrey, what nonsense is this? The invitations are out, the venue is paid for, and you want to drag our family name through the mud like this?” I looked at her with pity. “Mrs. Sinclair, your son dragged your family name through the mud all by himself. I just played the soundtrack.” Her finger shook as she pointed it at me. “It is perfectly normal for a man to have a past, or someone he cares about. Bringing your petty jealousy onto the big screen shows a complete lack of class!” I let out a soft laugh. “So you knew all along.” She choked on her words. “You knew he was in love with someone else, yet you still pushed for this wedding,” I continued. “Did you think I was too weak to speak up, or did you think my father was someone you could easily walk over?” My father stood up from his seat, his face dark with fury. “The Sinclairs want to save face, but what about the Bennetts? Do you think my daughter is some second-rate option?” Gavin’s composure finally fractured. “Mr. Bennett, please, it’s not what it looks like.” My father didn’t even look at him. “Do not call me that.” Gavin turned even paler. I stepped over and pulled the flash drive from the media console. Gavin let out a visible breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly, thinking the nightmare was over. I looked at him and smiled. “Why the sigh of relief, Gavin?” He froze. I pulled a second drive from my clutch. “That first part was just about how much you love her. This next part is about how she taught me to stay in my lane.” Leah looked as if she might faint. “Audrey, please…” I pressed play. A voice memo began to broadcast, Leah’s soft, sweet voice echoing clearly through the speakers. “Audrey, sweetie, do you know what Gavin told me? He said you’re the perfect kind of girl to marry, because you never need to be coddled. You’re just so low-maintenance.” The audio ended, leaving a deafening silence in the room, save for the faint hum of the sound system. Leah stood frozen by the entrance, tears streaming down her face, her mouth opening and closing without a sound. Sending me these voice notes used to be her favorite pastime. She did it because she knew I was too proud to throw a tantrum, and too desperate to keep Gavin happy to start a fight. She thought my patience was infinite. She forgot that even the quietest volcano eventually erupts. I clicked the next file. “Audrey, stop nagging him about whether he loves you. Men hate that. Gavin says you’re so strong you can handle anything on your own. Unlike me. I’m a mess without him.” The third played. “Oh, it’s your birthday today? Sorry, I didn’t know. But I’m having a really rough night, and Gavin said you’re mature enough not to mind if he stays with me.” And the fourth. “Don’t be mad at him for skipping the hospital. He said you’re a tough cookie. It’s just a signature on a consent form, right? No need to play the victim.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father’s hands clench into tight fists. I didn’t dare look directly at him. If I did, I knew my composure would shatter. When I had that severe gastric hemorrhage, the pain was so blinding I couldn’t stand straight. The nurse had handed me the emergency consent forms and told me to call my family. I had called Gavin over and over. When he finally texted back, it was: Leah is having a panic attack on a rooftop. Stop adding to my stress. I had signed the papers myself, my hand shaking so violently that I had to write my name twice to make it legible. That night, I genuinely believed that if I died on the operating table, Gavin wouldn’t find out until the next afternoon. And even then, his grief would be short-lived, because Leah would still be crying for his attention. A final text message screenshot appeared on the screen, sent from Leah to me: Audrey, stop playing the martyr. If he keeps choosing to come to me, it just means I need him more than you do. Gavin finally snapped out of his stupor, lunging toward the AV booth to yank the cords out. I stepped directly in his path, blocking him. “What’s the matter, Gavin? Too hard to listen to?” His voice sounded gasped. “When did you get these?” “Over the years. Constantly.” “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I smiled, a cold, empty sensation. “To what end? So you could tell me I was being overly sensitive again?” His face twisted in a mixture of shame and shock. Leah ran up to the stage, sobbing hysterically. “It’s not what it sounds like, Gavin! I was in a really bad place back then. I didn’t mean any harm, I swear!” I looked down at her. “That’s your signature move, isn’t it, Leah? You slice someone open, and then you cry first so everyone thinks you’re the victim.” She shook her head desperately. “Audrey, you’ve got it all wrong. I was just dependent on him. I didn’t have anyone else.” “Dependent?” I asked. “So dependent that you memorized my birthday just to stage a dramatic breakup on that exact night?” I brought up one more screenshot on the screen. It was a calendar Leah had sent me months ago to gloat. She had color-coded Gavin’s schedule with my key dates: my birthday, my bridal fittings, our marriage license appointment, and tonight’s rehearsal dinner. Next to every single one of those dates, she had written the same note: Get him to come to me. Seeing those words, Gavin turned to Leah, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Leah? You planned this?” She panicked. “No, Gavin, that’s not what it means! I was just… I was just scared you’d get too busy and forget about me!” I looked at Gavin. “She was terrified you’d forget her. So, on my birthday, she gets dumped. On the night of my emergency surgery, she’s on a ledge. On the day of my gown fitting, her power goes out. And tonight, at our rehearsal, she twists her ankle.” I paused, letting the silence settle. “Gavin, do you honestly still believe those were all coincidences?” Gavin stared at Leah. For the first time in his life, his eyes held no warmth or protectiveness. There was only a cold, chilling sense of unfamiliarity. Leah wept harder, reaching for him. “Gavin, please, I didn’t mean to. I was just so terrified you’d abandon me once you got married.” Mrs. Sinclair quickly stepped between them, shielding Leah. “Enough! The girl grew up without parents. Is it really such a crime that she relies on Gavin? Audrey, you are supposed to be the bride here. Making such a childish fuss over this, aren’t you embarrassed?” I looked at the older woman. “If you aren’t embarrassed by your son’s behavior, Mrs. Sinclair, why should I be?” I tapped my phone again, pulling up a screenshot of a text thread between Mrs. Sinclair and Leah. The keypad code to the house is Gavin’s birthday, Mrs. Sinclair had written. Audrey is at work during the day, so just go in and grab whatever you need. She’s passive anyway; she won’t say a thing. Mrs. Sinclair’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. My father walked up to the stage, his hand settling gently but firmly on my shoulder. “Audrey, we’re leaving.” I nodded. “Okay, Dad.” Gavin stepped forward, reaching out to stop me. “Audrey, please. Let’s talk about this. Just the two of us.” I stared at his hand. “Let go of me.” “I swear I didn’t know Leah was sending you those things,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “There is a lifetime of things you didn’t know, Gavin.” “Give me one chance,” he whispered, his eyes pleading. “I’ll fix this. I’ll handle it.” I looked past him to Leah. Even through her tears, her fingers were tightly wrapped around the cuff of his sleeve. An overwhelming wave of exhaustion washed over me. “Gavin, you don’t have to choose between us anymore.” He blinked, confused. “I’m bowing out,” I said quietly. “From now on, whoever wants to play her hero can go ahead and do it. I’m resigning from the job.” As I reached the exit, the wedding planner came running after me, breathless. “Miss Bennett, wait! Do you want the original files from the wedding video?” I stopped. “Which files?” She hesitated, glancing back toward the ballroom. “The tribute video. The one with your late mother.” I spun around. Gavin froze instantly. The planner lowered her voice to a whisper. “Miss Leah said that tribute was too depressing for a wedding, that it would ruin the mood. And Mr. Sinclair agreed. He told us to cut it.” I stared at Gavin. The noise of the ballroom suddenly faded into a dull hum, as if I were underwater. A month before my mother passed away, when she was already frail and bedridden, she had asked my dad to record a video for me. In it, she said, “Audrey, my sweet girl, I might not make it to see you walk down the aisle. But my only hope is that the man you marry truly, deeply cherishes you.” I had never been able to bring myself to watch that video after she died. I had kept it saved, waiting for my wedding day so that she could be there with me in some small way. And Gavin had thrown it away. Because Leah thought it was too depressing. “Is that true?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Gavin opened his mouth, but no sound came out at first. “Audrey… I just thought we should keep the atmosphere light and happy on our big day.” I let out a dry laugh, but the first tear finally spilled over my eyelashes. “The absolute last thing my mother left for me, and you deleted it because it didn’t fit your aesthetic.” His face went completely gray. “Gavin,” I said, wiping the tear away. “This isn’t just a cancelled wedding. You are permanently out of my life.” I didn’t go back to the house we bought together. I went home with my father to the house I grew up in. He didn’t say a single word during the entire drive. Once inside, he slowly took off his crisp new suit jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. The fabric was still perfectly pressed, but he looked as though he had aged ten years in a single night. “Audrey,” he called out softly. “Did I make a mistake trusting him so much?” I sat on the old worn sofa and shook my head. “No, Dad. I was the one who trusted him too much.” My father knelt down by the coffee table and pulled out an old tin box. Inside were loose photographs of my mother and a worn, scuffed flash drive. “Your mother’s video, I have another copy of it here,” he said, placing the drive into my palm. “She was worried the videographer might lose it, so she made me keep a backup. She said you could be a bit forgetful sometimes, and she wanted to make sure you’d always have her voice when you missed her.” My fingers closed around the warm metal drive, and my chest seized as the tears finally came pouring out. My mother always joked that I was scatterbrained, but after she passed, I had forced myself to remember every single detail for the people I loved. I knew Gavin hated cilantro, that his dress shirts had to be ironed on low heat, and that he couldn’t have dairy before a big meeting. Yet Leah only had to utter a single “I don’t feel well,” and he would drop the world to run to her. My father patted my shoulder gently. “I’m glad you’re not marrying him, sweetheart.” I looked up, seeing the redness in his eyes even as he forced a smile. “My daughter deserves the world. Why should you marry into a family that treats you like an afterthought?” In that moment, I let go and sobbed like a child. The next morning, I walked into the bridal boutique. The consultant’s expression turned instantly guarded when she saw me. “Miss Bennett… are you here to pick up your gown?” “I’m canceling the order,” I said, handing over my copy of the contract. “The wedding is off.” The consultant was quiet for a moment before printing out the cancellation form. As I took the pen to sign, my eyes caught a line of text in the system notes: Alternative gown selected: Mermaid style, adjusted per Miss Leah’s preference. My fingers froze on the pen. “Miss Leah?” The consultant hesitated, looking around before turning her monitor toward me. “Miss Bennett, this is your dress, and I honestly think you deserve to know the truth.” The digital log was incredibly detailed: Miss Leah suggests changing to mermaid style. Miss Leah notes the mother’s tribute video is bad luck for the ceremony and advises against it. Mr. Sinclair confirmed: Proceed with Leah’s suggestions. A suffocating lump rose in my throat. On the seventeenth of last month, when I had that hundred-and-three-degree fever, I had texted Gavin begging him to come home early. He had texted back saying he was at a critical dinner with a client and couldn’t leave. It turned out his “client” was Leah, picking out my wedding dress. I put my signature on the paper. As I turned to leave, the consultant said softly, “Miss Bennett, for what it’s worth, you looked absolutely breathtaking in the original satin gown.” I paused at the door. “Thank you.” When I stepped out onto the sidewalk, Gavin was standing by the curb, clutching a thick paper bag. The moment he spotted me, he rushed over. “Audrey!” I kept walking, ignoring him, but he stepped directly into my path. “I packed up all of Leah’s things,” he said breathlessly. “They’re out of the house. I changed the security codes, too. And I had a talk with my mother.” I looked at him coldly. “And?” His throat bobbed. “Please, can we just put the wedding on hold instead of calling it off? We can postpone it. I’ll plan a completely new ceremony for you.” “A new ceremony?” I asked. “Are you going to bring back the footage of my mother, too?” His face paled. “Audrey, I didn’t realize that clip meant so much to you.” “My mother’s dying blessing didn’t mean much to you?” I asked, my voice flat. He had no answer. I realized then that he wasn’t stupid. He just knew that my pain was quiet. And because I suffered in silence, he decided my pain could be safely ignored. Gavin held out the paper bag. “The bridal shop sent these photos over.” I didn’t move to take them. He opened the bag himself, pulling out a print of me from my first fitting. I was standing in front of the tri-fold mirror in that classic satin gown, my posture straight and elegant, my back to the camera. Gavin’s eyes welled with tears. “I should have stayed that day.” I looked at the photograph. “Gavin, there are a thousand days you should have stayed.” His hand froze in midair. “Audrey, let me make it up to you,” he pleaded. I shook my head. “You can’t.” “Then what do you want me to do?” he whispered, desperate.

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When Hugo lost his phone, I tracked it down, but the woman who found it demanded proof. I entered my birthday, certain it would work. “Incorrect passcode.” She eyed me with suspicion. Assuming he’d changed it, I tried my fingerprint. Failed again. I stood frozen on the pavement. After five years together, every password, every setting, was tied to me. Growing impatient, the woman asked his emergency contact. “Me,” I whispered, naming myself. Last month, after I was stalked, Hugo had programmed every emergency shortcut to dial my number. Yet the woman only sneered, tucking the phone away. “You look decent, but you’re trying to scam me.” I snatched the phone back, pale with disbelief. She grabbed my wrist as it began to ring. Seeing the screen, she smirked. “See? The real owner’s calling.” I looked up to see my best friend Sherry holding her phone to her ear nearby. A flood of buried doubts finally found their answers. After we sent the lady away, Hugo rushed over to join us. Seeing my pale, rigid face, he grabbed my wrist. His voice carried a defensive chill. “What is wrong? Did that woman give you a hard time?” I ignored his question. I just held up his phone and asked with dead calm. “What is your passcode?” Hugo stiffened. His eyes instinctively darted toward Sherry. Then he let out an awkward, helpless laugh. “Aria, you’re misunderstanding.” “We were playing Truth or Dare last time. I lost, so the dare was to change my emergency info to the person sitting next to me.” “When did you two go out together?” “Start of the month.” As if terrified I would overthink it, he quickly added, “You were so busy then. We didn’t want to bother you.” My fingers gave a violent twitch. What was I busy with? I was busy planning our wedding. And Hugo was afraid of bothering me. It was as if this marriage was a one woman show. Sherry grabbed Hugo’s arm, playfully scolding him to change his settings back. “I told you to change it! Why are you still using my info?” “I forgot. Didn’t think it was a big deal.” “How could you forget something like this!” The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, bickering back and forth. They looked so incredibly familiar, like a pair of longtime partners tackling a minor inconvenience together. And I was the inconvenience. I took a step closer. Hugo was in the middle of resetting his lock screen. His thumb hovered over the keypad, hesitating before punching in 0523. Sherry went dead silent. She shot a quick glance at me before elbowing him. “Wrong. 0523 is my dog’s birthday!” “Aria’s birthday is June 7th.” Hugo quickly erased the numbers and typed the right ones. He offered a careless, unapologetic chuckle. “We just celebrated Peanut’s birthday. Guess it got mixed up in my head.” My fingers curled into fists, nails digging into my palms. Five years together, and he remembered a dog’s birthday. But not mine. My eyes stung, the rims turning hot and red. Hugo noticed, and a flash of pure irritation crossed his face. “It’s not a big deal, Aria. Stop making a mountain out of a molehill.” “Why are you yelling at her!” Sherry stepped right in front of me, shielding me. With just that single sentence, Hugo instantly surrendered, as docile as a cat having its fur stroked the right way. My throat felt like swallowing broken glass. It hurt too much to force a single word out. I stayed completely silent, turned around, and got into the car. “Aria, what’s wrong?” Sherry leaned down to peer through the window, her eyes practically overflowing with worry. “I’m not feeling well. I’m heading back.” “Then go home and get some rest. Sherry has wanted to see this movie for weeks, so I’m going to take her.” Hugo’s voice was light, but every syllable pierced my eardrums like needles. He didn’t ask where I hurt. He didn’t offer to take me home. The only thing he cared about was Sherry’s feelings. “Okay. Have fun.” I answered instantly. Hugo looked taken aback, freezing in place for a split second. I had always been territorial. I never allowed him to hang out alone with other girls, even if that girl was my best friend. Once upon a time, we would have had a screaming match over this, turning into two red eyed beasts refusing to yield an inch. But right now, I didn’t spare him another word. I just drove away. On the way home, my mom called. “Sweetie, the groom’s suit just arrived at the boutique. Should your dad and I go with you to check it out?” Because Hugo was perpetually absent, my own father had been stepping in to try on the groom’s clothes. Enduring the bewildered, pitying stares of the boutique staff, I had held this charade together for three months. But all of it had become a pathetic joke. “No.” “Mom, please cancel the wedding dress.” There were a few seconds of heavy silence on the other end. It was as if she immediately understood. She didn’t pry or ask why. She just asked softly if I had thought it through. I managed a weak smile. “I have.” After hanging up, I drove straight to the clinic. My wrist was throbbing with a dull ache from the tug of war with the lady earlier. The doctor checked it over and diagnosed a soft tissue sprain. While waiting for the medicated patch, I scrolled through my feed. Sherry had just posted an update. Wow, so lucky today! Won a prize at the arcade with my bestie. Attached was a photo of two matching phone charms. A couples set. Hugo had happily attached his to his phone. In the mirror selfie, the two of them were grinning, the long charms dangling below their hands. He had even swapped out the phone case I bought him because it didn’t match the charm. By the time my wrist was treated, a massive downpour had started outside. I tried to hail a ride app for half an hour, but the queue was hopeless. I texted my location to Hugo. Ten minutes later, he replied with a few brief words. Wait at the entrance. That wait lasted over two hours. I curled into myself, standing by the clinic doors. My pants were soaked through from the knees down. The rain had washed the adhesive right off my medicated patch. Hugo finally called. Through the speaker, Sherry’s laughter rang out like silver bells. “Aria, we brought Peanut to the groomers! I sent you a picture, look how cute he is.” I opened the photo. Hugo and Sherry were pressed close together, holding a wet puppy, smiling brightly. The perfect picture of domestic bliss. Meanwhile, miles away, I looked like a drowned rat. My lips were purple from the cold. “Hugo, do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?” The line went dead quiet for a second before his annoyed voice snapped back. “Aria, you are such a buzzkill. Sherry is just trying to share something fun with you.” “Don’t say that, Hugo. Can’t you see Aria is upset?” Sherry quickly interrupted. “I’m just looking out for you, Sherry. If you let her act like this, she’s only going to bully you worse.” “It’s fine, really.” The freezing rain lashed against my skin, but in that moment, I couldn’t tell if my body or my heart was colder. I shivered violently, biting down on a sob as I asked. “Hugo. Tell me exactly how I am bullying her.” The heavy rain distorted my voice, making Hugo think I was crying. He sounded completely exasperated. “Can you just drop the drama? Sherry is your best friend. Can you really not tolerate her?” I couldn’t remember how many times he had picked a fight with me over Sherry. In college, he fought with me because I refused to help Sherry cheat on a final. After graduation, he fought with me because I didn’t want Sherry tagging along on our anniversary trip. I even joked with him once that if we ever broke up, it would definitely be because of Sherry. He had laughed it off back then. I never expected it to be a prophecy. “Hugo, we’re done.” With that, I hung up. My phone instantly started ringing again. When I didn’t answer, Sherry’s number popped up. They took turns calling, back to back. Their ringtones were identical. It was the ending theme of an anime Sherry loved. She had shared it with me once, swearing she would use it as a matching ringtone with her future soulmate. She had been single for so long back then, and I didn’t want her to feel left out. I had even joked, “If no guy is lucky enough to appreciate it, I’ll match it with you.” She had just smiled, saying nothing. I hadn’t understood that smile back then. But I understood it now. She was laughing at me. Laughing at how utterly blind I was while she stole my life. A tidal wave of absolute humiliation crashed over me. I clamped a hand over my mouth, stumbled over to a tree, and violently threw up. Bile and rainwater soaked the front of my shirt. I staggered away, my foot slipping on the wet pavement, and crashed hard onto the ground. Maybe out of sheer pity, a passing taxi pulled over right in front of me. Once I was inside, my phone buzzed. A text from Hugo. Aria, stop throwing these tantrums. You made Sherry cry! My wrist was inflamed. My stomach was throbbing with a dull, strange ache. There wasn’t a single dry or clean spot on my entire body. But none of that mattered compared to a few of Sherry’s tears. Where are you? I went to the clinic but you’re not here. Why were you at the clinic anyway? What’s wrong? My nose burned. I almost took a picture of my bruised, pathetic arm to send him. But before I could, another text popped up. Just text Sherry back first. She’s really worried about you. The hand holding my phone simply dropped into my lap. The last remaining shred of my desire to communicate vanished into thin air. Once I got home, I quickly stood under a boiling hot shower. But shortly after, a fever hit me like a truck. One hundred and one degrees. I tore through the cabinets, finally punched out a few fever pills, swallowed them dry, and collapsed into bed. I didn’t know how much time had passed when a sharp click and a blinding overhead light ripped me awake. Hugo stood at the foot of the bed, his brow furrowed in anger. “We were out there going crazy looking for you, and you’re just at home sleeping!” My head was spinning as I pushed myself up. Looking at his perfectly dry, immaculate clothes, a mocking smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “What’s so funny?” His expression darkened. “I called you ten times. You didn’t pick up once.” “Aria, have you noticed how incredibly impossible you are to please lately?” He kept venting his frustrations, completely blind to my unnaturally flushed face and the blister packs of medicine scattered across the nightstand. After Hugo took a shower, his temper seemed to cool down. When he climbed under the covers, he reached out to pull me into his arms, just like he always did. I rolled over, dodging his touch. “Go sleep in the guest room.” Hugo stiffened, his face turning ugly. “You’re really going to keep dragging this out, aren’t you.” He kicked the blankets off and stormed out of the room. I pulled the covers up and drifted back into a feverish haze. Late into the night, the sharp ache in my stomach woke me up again. I dragged myself out of bed to go to the bathroom, but noticed a sliver of light coming from the guest room. As I got closer, I realized he was singing softly into his phone. It was a slow acoustic love song. “That was beautiful. Sing it for me one more time.” Sherry’s sweet, soft voice drifted from the speaker. Hugo let out a low chuckle. His tone was drenched in a rare, intoxicating gentleness. “I’ll sing it one more time, but then you have to go to sleep. It’s late.” “Okay.” And so Hugo patiently sang the verse again. Intimate, breathless, laced with a strange hint of sorrow. When the final lyric faded into the quiet room. Sherry suddenly spoke. “I do. I will marry you.” Hugo fell completely silent. In the heavy darkness of the night, Sherry’s voice broke into an agonized whisper. “That night wasn’t a dream. We were so perfect together. You kept whispering that you loved me, and now you’re going to marry someone else. My heart is breaking.” “Sherry…” Hugo’s voice was strained, struggling to get the words out. “I was drunk that night. Didn’t we promise each other we would never bring it up again?” “You were drunk, but I wasn’t!” Sherry’s reaction was fierce and desperate. “You knew exactly who I was. You moaned my name.” “You even hung up on Aria when she called for help.” “You’re only marrying her out of guilt, aren’t you?” Separated by a single wall, I clamped both hands over my mouth, tears streaming down my face in a silent, violent flood. A month ago, I was working late. Hugo was supposed to pick me up, but he never showed. I was tracked down a dark street by a drunk. I was almost assaulted. When Hugo finally rushed into the police station, his face was pale with terror. He held me tight, swearing his car had broken down halfway there. I believed him. It was all a lie. The silence stretched on forever. Hugo never offered an answer. But I knew exactly what that meant. He was admitting it. Every last trace of love I had left for him evaporated. I wiped my face, turned around, and walked to the bathroom. I noticed a small amount of blood in my underwear. I put on a pad, planning to head to the hospital first thing in the morning. But when I woke up, Sherry was in my apartment. “Aria, come eat breakfast! I made your favorite French toast.” She flashed a sweet, gentle smile, playing the perfect, loving best friend. That is, if she hadn’t just thrown my favorite matching couple’s plates straight into the trash can. Seeing me staring dead at the shattered ceramic, she clasped her hands together, looking utterly apologetic. “I am so sorry, Aria. My hands were wet, and I accidentally dropped them.” Accidentally? Those two plates were kept on entirely separate shelves. How incredibly convenient that she broke exactly that pair. My lips turned white with rage. I tried to tell myself to just walk away. But the moment I looked up, I caught a brief, malicious glint of triumph in her eyes. A flood of overlooked memories suddenly slammed into my brain. Hugo’s missing promise ring. His smashed smartwatch. The bizarre tear in the matching jacket I bought him. Every single time, Sherry had been there. Even an idiot would see the truth staring them in the face now. “Aria, why are you just standing there? Eat up.” She placed a plate with an omelet on the table. And right in the empty space beside it, she had drawn a mouse out of ketchup. I was terrified of mice. When I was a kid growing up poor, a rat had crawled into my bed and almost bitten my nose off. My stomach violently heaved. I bolted for the bathroom and threw up until my vision went dark. Sherry’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. She followed me, radiating victimhood. “Aria, what did I ever do to make you hate me so much?” The screech of a chair scraping the floor echoed as Hugo stormed over, looking entirely fed up. “Just ignore her. She’s acting crazy again!” But Sherry wouldn’t listen. She rushed forward, grabbing my arm to support me. “Aria, are you okay? Let me make you some tea.” Her tone dripped with concern, but her eyes were dead, staring at me like I was a corpse. My skin crawled with disgust. I shoved her away. As we struggled, the necklace flashing around her throat caught my eye. It was the custom necklace my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. “Give that back!” I lunged to rip it off her neck. Sherry let out a bloodcurdling scream. “Help! Aria, please don’t hit me!” In the next fraction of a second, a brutal force slammed into my back.

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After senior year exams, my online boyfriend suggested we finally meet in person. I replied nervously, “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed when you see me…” After all, my grades were average, and my looks were nothing special. I didn’t feel like a match for Christopher Maxwell, the school’s star athlete and academic ace. But he sent a voice message, a soft chuckle in my ear. “Silly girl, I’ve had a pretty good idea who you are all along.” “Just you wait. Tomorrow, I’ve got a surprise for you.” I spent the entire night a bundle of nerves and secret delight, rushing to our agreed-upon meeting spot first thing the next morning. Only to find him, surrounded by cheering students and smiling teachers, all eyes on him, Declaring his love to my family’s housekeeper’s daughter. 1 “Get together! Get together! Get together!” Students cheered, circling the two of them. Even the teachers were all smiles, clearly thrilled for them. Finally, Sophia Reed smiled, her lips pressed together, as she accepted the roses and diamond bracelet Christopher held out. “Thank you, Chris.” She looked up into Christopher’s smiling eyes. “I accept.” Instantly, the crowd erupted, swirling around the pair. He was the sole heir to one of Fairhaven’s most prominent families, the school’s golden boy, a living legend. She was a small-town girl from humble beginnings, yet the top student, the pure and sweet campus darling. A real-life prince and Cinderella story. It was impossibly romantic. Only I stood apart, unremarkable. Even though I’d carefully dressed up today just for Christopher, the most I got was a passing classmate’s casual remark: “Hey, Audrey, that dress looks pretty good on you today.” They complimented the dress, not me. Two other classmates quickly pulled her away. “Why are you even talking to her?” “Wearing that on a day like this… she’s probably doing it on purpose.” “It’s pathetic, honestly. Miss Audrey Finch, trying her absolute hardest to compete with her own housekeeper’s daughter, and still losing every single time. If I were her parents, I’d be furious.” “Forget her. Look! Chris and Sophia are holding hands!” “Wow, this is truly a love story for the ages! I heard Chris secretly crushed on Sophia for a whole year, waiting until after exams to confess. I’m so jealous.” “You guys are just finding out? I noticed ages ago. Whenever Sophia went to the campus grove to study or fed the stray cats outside the dorms, I’d see Chris hiding in the shadows, secretly watching her.” “Really? That’s so sweet! See? Being from a good family doesn’t mean anything. Chris’s taste isn’t that shallow.” “Exactly. Some people, like a total weirdo, deliberately walk past Chris’s class every other day, or go to the track to watch him play ball… and still can’t get his attention.” They glanced at me as they spoke. I clutched the hem of my skirt, lowered my head, and turned to leave. All the words I’d prepared for Christopher remained stuck in my throat. It seemed I had simply misunderstood. All year, Christopher had been my online boyfriend, listening to me, helping me vent my frustrations, even tutoring me to improve my grades, all because… He’d mistaken me for Sophia. 2 Today was graduation. After we took our class photo, Liam, the class president, suggested a dinner party. “Thanks to Sophia, Chris is footing the bill for our class tonight!” Immediately, applause erupted. Sophia blushed, accepting everyone’s congratulations and envy. She then walked over to me, her voice soft and hesitant. “Audrey, you’ll come to dinner tonight, won’t you?” “Since the exam results came out, you haven’t spoken to me. I don’t know what I did to upset you. But Chris and I are heading to Northwood University in two months, and who knows when we’ll see each other again.” “Would you… be willing to make up with me?” The class fell silent. Everyone watched me, their gazes hard to read. I gathered my things and stood up. “You all go have fun. I won’t be joining.” With that, I turned and walked out of the classroom. Behind me, low whispers began again. “Seriously, what’s her deal?” “The top student is practically begging her to make up, what’s she playing at?” “Total princess syndrome, I guess. Thinks her family’s money makes her special, always picking on Sophia.” I quickened my pace, practically fleeing. It wasn’t until I reached the school gates that I squatted down, hugging my knees tightly. On my phone, Christopher’s chat was still pinned at the top of my messaging app. His profile picture was a little orange cat I’d drawn for him myself. The same stray I always fed outside the dorms. He’d told me I had real artistic talent, that I was the best artist he’d ever seen. He’d even asked me: When we officially get together, will you draw us a pair of matching profile pictures? I actually had them ready. I’d planned to send them to him today. But now… I gritted my teeth, found the hand-drawn avatars in my gallery, and along with his contact, hit the delete button. I’d just pretend those beautiful three hundred-plus days were nothing but a teenage dream. The dream was over. Everything was back to how it was. 3 When I arrived home, Mom was on the phone in the living room. “Sophia, have you decided between Northwood and Eastbrook yet?” “Excellent, excellent. When school starts, I’ll send someone to drive you and your mother there for orientation.” “Don’t be silly, you’re practically family. You’re so brilliant, I’d love nothing more than to adopt you as my goddaughter.” Only after she hung up did Mom look up, her gaze chilling as she swept over me. She snorted. “You actually have the nerve to come back.” “I hired elite tutors for you for an entire year, spent hundreds of thousands on tuition alone! And what did you get? Eight points above the minimum admission score, a full eighty points lower than Sophia.” “How much worry have I endured for you all these years? And you? You’re heartless, going out dressed so provocatively. You might not be ashamed, but I am!” Maria Reed, Sophia’s mother, emerged from the kitchen. Seeing Mom lash out at me again, she smiled gently, trying to soothe her. “Please don’t be angry, Mrs. Finch. Perhaps Miss Audrey simply isn’t cut out for academics.” “You could try finding other talents she has. I think Miss Audrey is quite good at drawing; maybe she could go to art school.” Mom’s face, however, darkened further. “The prestigious Finch family of Fairhaven, spending hundreds of thousands just to produce an art student?” “If that got out, how would I ever hold my head high again?” She finished, glaring fiercely at me. “What are you staring at? Get upstairs and study! Whether you like it or not, you’re taking that prep course!” I silently went upstairs and closed my bedroom door. My chest felt numb. I seemed to be growing immune to Mom’s words. Her tenderness towards Sophia, she used to show me that, too. But… Ever since she found out Dad was seeing someone else three years ago, she’d changed. Dad was cunning, though; she still hadn’t managed to figure out who the other woman was. Only once, when Dad was drunk, did I hear him mumble: “Don’t worry, your daughter is my daughter too…” That’s how Mom learned the other woman also had a daughter. From that day on, Mom often said to me: “Audrey, you have to work hard, understand?” “You are a legitimate Finch daughter. You absolutely cannot be outdone by that outsider.” “From today on, besides piano, dance, and chess, you also need to bring up your academic grades. Get to first in class, first in the grade, first in the whole city!” “Otherwise, your mother and I will truly have no hope left.” I was young then, not fully understanding what was happening between Mom and Dad. But for Mom’s expectations, I gritted my teeth and gave it my all. Initially, after Mom poured money into my tutoring, my grades did improve significantly. Until two years ago, when Sophia and her mother came to live with us. 4 Maria Reed was the housekeeper Mom had carefully chosen. But Maria had been divorced years ago, raising her daughter alone. To ensure she could focus on caring for my daily needs, Mom invited Sophia to live with us as well. “That girl is your age, but her grades are much better than yours.” “From now on, you’ll study with her. Ask her if you don’t understand something.” Mom even allowed Sophia to sit in on my elite tutoring sessions. But whenever the tutor explained problems to me, Sophia would always chime in, looking troubled: “Teacher, I already know all these problems. Can you teach us something else?” “Our time is so precious. I can just help Audrey with these basic concepts later.” “Teacher, I think English and literature rely more on daily accumulation; we can just memorize more on our own. Could you teach us some math and physics competition problems?” No teacher dislikes a student who is bright, grasps things quickly, and excels academically. So, the one-on-one sessions, originally tailored for me, gradually shifted their focus to Sophia. I tried to voice my concerns to Mom. But Mom looked at me, exasperated. “Audrey, what is wrong with you?” “Why is it that Sophia learns these problems instantly, but you don’t?” “Are you even paying attention in class?” To make me focus on studying, Mom confiscated all my toys and pretty clothes, banning me from all recreational activities. She even gave away my Ragdoll kitten. Gradually, my daily life, apart from eating and sleeping, consisted only of studying, doing problems, and reviewing. I even swallowed my pride and asked Sophia for help with problems. But she would just scribble down an answer, then tell me earnestly, “Audrey, there are no shortcuts to learning.” “If you don’t understand, just practice more. As long as you try hard, you’ll eventually get it.” And so, my grades never significantly improved. Mom’s outbursts of anger towards me became more frequent. Finally, during the summer between junior and senior year, I developed severe academic burnout. When Mom found out, she slapped me hard. “Worthless! I spent so much money, just for you to give up on yourself?!” “Sophia came from a small-town school and she’s doing so well. And you? Where have all your years of schooling gone?” “If it weren’t for you, I would have divorced your father ages ago. Why would I stay here and suffer so much?” In an emotional breakdown, I posted an anonymous confessional on the school forum. Why do I try so hard and still can’t do well, still can’t satisfy Mom? I don’t deserve to be Mom’s daughter. Would Mom be free if I just died? Christopher appeared then. Just as I posted it and hid under my covers, silently crying, He sent me his first private message: What problems don’t you understand? Send them to me. 5 His appearance was like a ray of light in my darkness. At first, I didn’t know the person tutoring me every night was him. It wasn’t until one time when a teacher projected his exemplary essay on the board that I recognized his handwriting. In that moment, I was overwhelmed. After all, he was known throughout school as the elusive golden boy. But online, he would joke with me. Silly girl, I’ve explained this problem to you twice already. If you still don’t get it a third time, I’m going to have to punish you. I blushed on my end of the phone, asking him how he planned to punish me. On his end, he was typing for a long time before sending a voice message. His voice was deep and mellow: “It’s a secret for now. I’ll punish you when we meet.” Ambiguous feelings, like paint unexpectedly dripping into water, Spread and colored my entire senior year. But facing him, I couldn’t help but feel insecure. After all, Mom always said I wasn’t smart enough. And not as pretty as Sophia. A wildflower from the countryside could shine so brightly, While I, a hothouse flower, failed to impress anyone. Because of this, I didn’t dare reveal my identity. Yet I couldn’t resist sharing little snippets of my daily life with him. For example: Today during lunch break, I went to the campus grove to study vocabulary again, but I accidentally fell asleep. ? His tone was a bit stern: Could you be any more careless? What if you ran into trouble? Or: I came online late today because I met up with a good friend. Oh really? A boy or a girl? He even added a warning emoji. I couldn’t help but smile at my screen, sending him a picture of me feeding sausages to the little orange cat. It’s the kitten from outside our dorms. He was silent for a long time, then sent a message. Very pretty. ? Your hands, they’re very pretty. I secretly delighted in this, and we made a date: after exams, I’d let him hold my hand. But I never expected that when that day finally came, The hand he affectionately held, Was someone else’s.

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