Category: English

1 Our graduation trip was supposed to end with us island-hopping to Honeymoon Island, a tiny, sun-drenched paradise. But I was the only one who actually set foot on the shore. My boyfriend, Wyatt, had sent me a hurried text just as the ferry was boarding, claiming that my best friend, Fiona, was having a severe allergic reaction to some insect bites. He told me to go ahead and wait on the island; they would take the next boat and meet me shortly. I waited. I watched the sun climb to its peak, and then I watched it sink into the horizon, taking the very last ferry back with it. There was still no sign of them. I was forced to spend the entire night stranded at the open-air ferry terminal, acting as an all-you-can-eat buffet for the island’s relentless, toxic mosquitoes. When dawn finally broke, I caught the first morning boat back to Ibiza, shivering and exhausted. As the boat pulled away from the dock, my phone buzzed with a message from Wyatt. There was no apology, only irritation. You’re still on the island? How old are you, Valerie? Do you seriously not have any common sense? Sitting on the damp plastic seat of the speedboat, I rubbed my swollen, bloodshot eyes. The backs of my hands were covered in angry, throbbing red welts. Out on the water, a solitary dolphin’s dorsal fin sliced through the morning mist, catching the first rays of sunlight. I felt a profound, heavy exhaustion settle into my bones. I was done playing my part in this endless script, waiting for promises that would never be kept. … It was nearly ten in the morning by the time I made it back to our hotel. My clothes, damp with salt water and cold night dew, clung to my skin like a second, freezing layer of skin. My hands were shaking so violently that it took me three tries to slide the keycard into the slot. The moment the lock clicked open, Fiona’s bright, bubbly laughter drifted through the gap. “Wyatt, be honest, does this angle make me look fat?” She was curled up on the sofa, enveloped in Wyatt’s oversized jacket, holding her phone up to his face. Wyatt was leaning in close, his arm draped casually along the back of the sofa behind her, a relaxed, easy smile on his lips. I recognized that jacket instantly. Before we left, terrified of the chilly ocean drafts, I had packed it into his suitcase myself. At the time, he had laughed at me, calling me dramatic. Now, it was draped over Fiona’s shoulders, the soft sleeves pooling around her wrists like a protective shield, keeping her safe from any draft. I stood in the doorway, frozen. The stray grains of sand trapped inside my sandals ground against my raw soles, sending sharp, tiny needles of pain up my legs. Fiona noticed me first, her eyes widening with a sudden, performative cheerfulness. “Valerie! You’re finally back!” She waved me over, her tone incredibly light. “Come help me pick a photo. Wyatt’s photography skills are absolutely dreadful, no wonder he never posts pictures of you on his feed.” She caught herself a second later, sticking her tongue out in a playful, apologetic gesture. Wyatt looked up, the warmth instantly draining from his face, replaced by his usual stern, disapproving mask. “Why are you just getting back now?” My throat felt like it had been stuffed with dry sea sponge. I swallowed hard, trying to force the words out. “You said you’d be right over.” “Then you should have used your head,” he snapped. “Once the last ferry left, why didn’t you just ask a local for help? Why didn’t you find a guest house on the island? You’re an adult, Valerie. Did you really just stand there like an idiot waiting for sunrise?” Fiona gently nudged his arm, whispering, “Wyatt, stop it, don’t yell at her.” Though her words were soft, her eyes were fixed on the backs of my hands, where the swollen, angry red bites had begun to weep clear fluid and blood from where I had scratched them in the night. Wyatt noticed them too. He paused, his expression shifting slightly as he stepped forward and grabbed my wrist. For a fleeting second, I thought he was going to ask if I was alright, or if it hurt. Instead, a small, patronizing chuckle escaped his lips. “Look at you. You really are clumsy, aren’t you? Didn’t you even know how to find a shelter to hide in?” His tone held that familiar, affectionate condescension. It was the same tone he had used a thousand times before. He loved to call me stubborn. He loved to tell me my brain didn’t know how to adapt. He loved to tell me that he was the only man on earth who could ever tolerate my rigidity. For years, I had foolishly mistaken that condescension for love. Now, I realized that his “tolerance” was nothing more than a invisible leash. He would slip it around my neck, pull it tight, and leave me standing there, quietly questioning if I was indeed the one who was always in the wrong. Fiona reached for a small green tin on the coffee table. “Valerie, don’t be mad at Wyatt,” she said, sliding the tin into my hand. “He spent ages looking for this yesterday.” It was a cheap tin of mentholated cooling balm, its metal edges already slightly bent from being pried open. “He knew you’d get bitten by the bugs out there, so he told me to keep it safe for you.” A heavy, suffocating sensation pressed down on my chest. So he knew. He knew Honeymoon Island was crawling with mosquitoes. He knew I would stay there and wait. He knew exactly what would happen to my skin. And yet, he still chose not to come. Wyatt reached over, snatched the tin from my fingers, and pressed it firmly into my palm. “Alright, drop the attitude. I bought you the medicine, didn’t I? What else do you want from me?” The tin was freezing cold. Pressed against my inflamed skin, it felt like a heavy piece of ice. My mind flashed back to six months ago, when Wyatt had first emailed me the travel brochures for Honeymoon Island. The pictures had shown pristine white sand, crystal-clear water, and wild dolphins playing in the surf. He had kissed my forehead then, whispering, “We’re going there for graduation.” When I asked him why, he had simply smiled. “You’ll see when we get there.” A few weeks later, I had accidentally seen his search history on his laptop: Honeymoon Island proposal ideas, sunrise dolphin proposal spots. I remember sitting in the university library that afternoon, staring at the screen with a silly, ecstatic grin on my face. I couldn’t focus on a single page of my textbooks. I had truly believed that island was where our future would begin. So when he told me to wait, I waited. I waited from the moment the sun was high in the sky until the ocean turned pitch black. I waited until the tourists cleared out and the ticket booths shut down. I sat on a cold plastic chair, clutching my backpack, watching my phone battery slowly drain away to zero. The mosquitoes buzzed loudly in my ears as I sent him text after text. Wyatt, where are you guys? The last ferry is leaving soon. I’m getting really scared. He never replied. I had held the dying phone to my chest, listening to the slow, heavy thud of my own heart, feeling like a tiny flame being snuffed out by the cold ocean wind. And now, he stood in front of me, telling me to lose the attitude. Fiona smiled up at me, entirely unaffected. “Valerie, why don’t you go take a shower first? We wanted to head out to the night market later.” Wyatt patted my head, his tone dismissing my silence. “Go on. Don’t ruin the schedule for the rest of the day.” I looked at him, my voice flat. “Wyatt.” “Yeah?” he replied, already pulling out his phone. I had wanted to ask him if he had spent even a single second yesterday wondering if I was safe, or if I was terrified out there alone. But the words died in my throat, turning into a heavy lump of lead. I walked past them, unzipping my suitcase to grab a change of clothes. As the bathroom door clicked shut behind me, I caught Fiona’s lowered voice through the thin wood. “Do you think she’s really mad?” “She’s always like this,” Wyatt replied, his voice indifferent. “She’ll get over it.” Then the rush of the shower drowned out the rest of their conversation. The hot water hit my skin, sending a sharp, burning agony through the raw welts on my arms and hands. I leaned my forehead against the cold, tiled wall and slowly slid down to the floor, curling into a tight ball. The tears fell silently, mixing with the hot water. I didn’t make a sound. I had finally realized something very simple. It wasn’t that Wyatt was incapable of keeping his promises. It was just that his promises always expired when they were meant for me. And the proposal I had spent the entire night waiting for on Honeymoon Island had already sailed away on that very last ferry, leaving me behind in the dark. At four in the afternoon, Wyatt shook my shoulder to wake me. “Come on, get dressed. We’re going out for dinner.” I had only managed to fall asleep an hour prior, and my head felt incredibly heavy. When I opened my eyes, the harsh tropical sunlight was piercing through the gap in the curtains, making my eyes sting. “I don’t want to go,” I muttered, turning my back to him. The room fell silent for a few seconds. Then, the door creaked open further as Wyatt stepped into the room, holding the half-empty bottle of water I had left on the nightstand. “Didn’t you say you wanted to try the local seafood? I went out of my way to book a table at that trendy beachside restaurant as a makeup. Don’t be stubborn.” A makeup. The word sounded incredibly cheap coming from his mouth, like a free postcard you’d find at a hotel lobby, easily tossed into the wind. I looked up at him, my voice hoarse. “My skin is having an allergic reaction. I need to eat something plain.” He glanced down at his phone, his thumb typing rapidly. “Fiona’s been dying to go to this place, and reservations are almost impossible to get. Don’t be a party pooper.” I didn’t argue. I got out of bed and dressed. I wanted to see just how far his favoritism could actually go. The restaurant was right on the beach, the setting sun painting our table in a warm, orange glow. The staff brought out platter after platter of rich, fragrant seafood: spicy local crab, salt-and-pepper head-on shrimp, and rich curry clams. The heavy red oil floated on the surface of the sauces, the sharp, spicy aroma hitting my nose and making my stomach churn. My hands were still hot and throbbing; even without seeing a doctor, I knew touching any of this food would make my allergies flare up violently. Fiona, however, was beaming. “Wyatt, you actually remembered this is my favorite!” Wyatt handed the menu back to the waiter. “And we’ll add an order of the spicy Tom Yum soup, please.” Fiona picked up a large, steaming shrimp and dropped it onto Wyatt’s plate. “Wyatt, my hands are so sore from yesterday.” She held out her wrist, pointing to two tiny, almost invisible red dots on her pale skin. Without a word, Wyatt picked up the shrimp and began to peel it for her, his movements incredibly practiced and careful, even going so far as to neatly remove the vein. Fiona glanced over at me, her expression entirely innocent. “Your girl isn’t going to get jealous over a single shrimp, is she, Valerie?” I didn’t answer. Wyatt placed the neatly peeled shrimp into her bowl, then turned to look at my empty plate, his face darkening. “Why aren’t you eating?” “I can’t eat shellfish right now.” “Here we go again,” he muttered, tossing his wet wipe onto the table with a wet slap. “I bring you out to a nice restaurant, and you decide to give me the silent treatment. Are you seriously still holding a grudge over yesterday? It’s getting ridiculous.” My fingers tightened around the rim of my glass. “A grudge over yesterday?” Wyatt looked at me like I was a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “You already ruined an entire day of our vacation. Fiona didn’t even complain about her allergies, and here you are, playing the victim.” Fiona gently reached over, tugging on his sleeve. “Wyatt, don’t say that. Valerie is probably just feeling really under the weather.” Wyatt didn’t back down. “She always does this. Anyone else would let it go after a quick apology, but she has to make sure the entire world revolves around her.” I raised my hand, calling over our waiter. “Could I please get a glass of warm water?” The waiter nodded and hurried away. Wyatt stared at me, his jaw clenched, his eyes filled with frustration. He was probably waiting for me to argue, waiting for me to lay out my grievances one by one so he could play the judge and tell me why I was being unreasonable. But I didn’t. I simply took a sip of the warm water when it arrived. The liquid was tasteless and plain, but as it slid down my throat, it felt as though it was washing away the very last drop of hope I had kept for him. By the time we got back to the hotel, Fiona was complaining about being exhausted. Almost the second we entered our room, she wrapped herself in a blanket and followed us inside. “Valerie, I think the air conditioning in my room is completely broken,” she murmured, standing near the door with her eyes cast down. “And with my allergies acting up from yesterday, I’m really scared to sleep alone.” I turned my head to look at Wyatt. He was in the middle of unbuckling his watch, but he paused, looking up at her. “You can just sleep here, then.” I froze. “If she sleeps here, where am I supposed to go?” Wyatt looked at me, as if the question hadn’t even crossed his mind. After a brief silence, he shrugged. “You can go sleep in Fiona’s room.” Fiona immediately chimed in, her voice hushed. “Oh, that’s really not fair to Valerie. I can probably just manage in my room…” Though she spoke of leaving, her feet didn’t move, and she sat down comfortably on our sofa. Wyatt looked at me, his tone completely matter-of-fact. “Fiona has always been easily frightened, and she’s sick. You’ve always been independent, Valerie. What’s the big deal about taking one for the team for a single night?” I stared at the large king-sized bed. On the nightstand sat our matching travel mugs, one blue, one white. Before we had left the room yesterday, I had filled the white mug with warm water, planning to use it to take my allergy medication when I returned. Now, that very white mug was in Fiona’s hands. She took a small sip, wrinkling her nose. “It’s a bit cold.” Wyatt took the mug from her, poured the water into the sink, and refilled it with fresh, steaming water from the kettle. A hollow, cold sensation bloomed in my chest. And then, slowly, a smile touched my lips. So my strength, my independence, was nothing more than an easy excuse for them to push me aside whenever it was convenient. My place in his life could be handed over with a single, careless sentence. Seeing my smile, Wyatt’s annoyance flared. “Don’t look at me with that sarcastic face.” I didn’t say a word. I walked over to the wardrobe, pulled my clothes out of the drawers, and laid them out on the bed. The sound of my suitcase zipper running open was incredibly loud in the quiet room. Fiona watched me, her head tilted. “Valerie, are you really leaving? I can honestly just go back to my room.” I placed my wash bag into the suitcase. “No. You don’t have to.” Fiona’s smile faltered slightly. Wyatt stood in the center of the room, looking genuinely shocked that I was actually packing my things. “Valerie, is this really necessary?” “Yes,” I said, snapping the locks of my suitcase shut. His face turned incredibly dark. “It’s just for one night.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Wyatt, last night was just for one night, too.” By the middle of the night, I was burning up with a fever. As dawn approached, my feverish dreams were filled with the image of that empty ferry terminal on Honeymoon Island. The lights were out, the ocean wind was howling, and the metal chairs were as cold as blocks of ice. I sat there, clutching my backpack, watching boat after boat pull away from the dock, their white wakes swallowed up by the dark, churning water. Suddenly, a loud knocking woke me. “Valerie, open the door!” I opened my eyes, my head throbbing with a dull, heavy ache. The knocking on the door was loud and impatient. “Valerie, hurry up! We’re going to miss our diving slot!” It was Fiona’s voice. I pushed myself up from the bed, the room spinning violently for a second. My feet felt like lead as I dragged myself to the door. When I opened it, Fiona was standing there, dressed in a bright bikini with a sheer white cover-up, her hair neatly styled. Wyatt stood behind her, holding a large waterproof dry bag. The moment his eyes fell on me, his brows knit together. “Why aren’t you ready yet?” I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe for support. “I have a fever. I’m staying in today.” Fiona’s face fell instantly. “But the diving spots are so hard to get.” I looked past her, staring straight at Wyatt. “Diving wasn’t on our itinerary.” Wyatt’s eyes flickered, looking away for a fraction of a second. “We booked it yesterday.” Yesterday. While I was stranded on an island, shivering in the dark, they had been planning their next adventure together. My throat felt incredibly tight. “I’m staying at the hotel to rest.” Wyatt’s expression hardened into pure disgust. “Valerie, can you stop throwing tantrums? You already ruined our plans yesterday, and now you’re pulling this. We didn’t come on this trip just to watch you sulk in bed.” I raised a hand, touching my burning forehead. “I am genuinely sick, Wyatt.” He glanced at the swollen welts on my arm. “Fiona had the exact same reaction yesterday, and she’s perfectly fine after a bit of rest. Stop using your health as an excuse to get attention.” Fiona quickly stepped in, her voice sweet and conciliatory. “Wyatt, don’t be like that. Maybe we should just skip it. I can stay behind and keep Valerie company.” Yet, as she spoke, her fingers tightened around the strap of her beach bag. Predictably, Wyatt’s expression softened into concern for her. “You’ve been looking forward to this dive for months. Why should you have to miss out?” He turned back to me, his tone icy. “She’s being incredibly accommodating, Valerie. What more do you want?” I took a step back into the room. “Then go. Have a good time.” Wyatt let out a cold sneer. “Here we go again. Do you expect me to get down on my knees and beg you? Fine, suit yourself.” He grabbed Fiona’s arm and slammed the door shut. Through the thin walls, Fiona’s soft voice carried down the hallway. “Do you think Valerie is really furious with us?” “Just ignore her,” Wyatt replied. “She’ll come around.” Their footsteps gradually faded down the corridor. I collapsed back onto the floor, my back sliding down the door. The coarse carpet fibers scraped against my bare knees. My head was throbbing violently, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I pulled out my phone, trying to book a ride to the local hospital, but the local apps were entirely in a foreign language, and the address on the hotel keycard was too blurry to read. My fingers kept slipping on the screen, inputting the wrong details. Finally, I forced myself to stand, using the wall for support, and made my way down to the lobby. The receptionist on duty was a young woman, her name tag reading Nadia. The moment she heard me asking for hospital directions in raspy Mandarin, she looked up from her computer. “Are you from back home?” she asked, her eyes softening. I managed a weak nod. She looked at my pale, sweaty face, and then at the severe red swelling covering my arms and hands. “You are in no condition to go to the clinic alone.” “I can manage,” I whispered, but my knees buckled slightly as the words left my lips. Nadia quickly stepped out from behind the counter, catching me by the arm. “I’m coming with you.” “But you’re at work,” I protested weakly. “I’ll have my colleague cover for me,” she said, grabbing her purse. “We’re both far from home, we’ve got to look out for each other.” Her words were incredibly quiet, but they felt like a warm blanket wrapping around my shivering frame. Nadia helped me into a taxi, registered me at the emergency clinic, and translated everything the doctor said. The physician confirmed that the mosquito bites had caused a severe secondary skin infection, warning me to avoid spicy food and seafood, and prescribed a course of intravenous fluids. I sat in the quiet clinic, the cold IV fluid slowly dripping into the vein on the back of my hand. My phone buzzed. I thought it might be Wyatt, checking in on me. But when the screen lit up, it was a notification for a new social media update from Wyatt. It was a photo of Fiona in her diving gear, standing against the backdrop of a breathtakingly blue ocean, flashing a peace sign at the camera. His caption read: First time diving for this little scaredy-cat. She did amazing. Fiona had already left a comment below: Thanks to Wyatt for keeping me safe the whole time! He had replied with a simple, warm smiley face. The needle in my hand suddenly gave a sharp pinch, and a small line of dark red blood began to travel back up the clear plastic tube. Nadia quickly leaned over, pressing her thumb against the cotton ball over the injection site. “Don’t move, Valerie. You’ll blow the vein.” “Right,” I whispered, shutting my eyes and locking my phone screen. The tropical sun shone brightly through the clinic window. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled my senses, making my throat tighten. I sat there in that plastic chair, in a country where I didn’t speak the language, burning with a fever, while my boyfriend of four years was busy documenting another girl’s milestone. I realized then, with painful clarity, that when you are no longer loved, even your illnesses feel like an inconvenience to the world. By the time the nurse hung the third bag of fluids, I unlocked my phone, opened my contacts, and placed both Wyatt and Fiona on my blocked list. My fingers didn’t tremble as I did it. But my eyes burned, hot and dry. While Nadia went out to buy some plain rice porridge, I drifted off to sleep, leaning my head against the plastic back of the chair. When I opened my eyes, a warm hand was holding mine, gripping my fingers tightly. Wyatt was sitting in the chair next to mine. “Looks like the fever is finally coming down,” he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse. His clothes smelled of sea salt and sun-dried cotton, and his hair was slightly windswept. He reached over, gently tucking the hospital blanket around my shoulders, his tone turning into a familiar, nagging murmur. “You really are something else, Valerie. Always so stubborn, trying to handle everything on your own without saying a word.” I stared at him, my heart entirely flat. “Why did you block my number?” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Don’t be so petty. Fiona sent you a dozen messages, she’s been worried sick about you.” I turned my head away, looking at the white wall. “Is this minor thing really worth making such a scene?” he asked, squeezing my hand. “I know you feel neglected, but you can’t just cut me off like this. Fiona and I grew up together, you know how close we are.” It was the same old pattern. First the blame, then the gentle coaxing, using his warmth to slowly quiet my anger until I began to doubt my own feelings. I looked at our joined hands. “Unblock me first,” he said softly, leaning his forehead against my temple. “Okay?” I pulled my head back, creating a clear space between us. He let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. You rest up. I’ll go get you some warm water.” He let go of my hand, stood up, and walked out of the room. “Don’t run off,” he called back from the doorway. I waited. Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes. Forty minutes. The hot water dispenser was only at the end of the short corridor. I pulled the IV needle from my hand myself, pressing down on the cotton ball as I slowly walked out of the ward toward the front desk. The nurse looked up as I approached. I used the basic phrases Nadia had taught me, but the nurse struggled to understand. Fortunately, a young volunteer translator stepped in to help. “The man who was with you?” the volunteer said, thinking for a moment. “Oh, yes. A young lady came looking for him about thirty minutes ago, and he left with her.” I stood in the center of the quiet hospital corridor. The overhead fluorescent lights let out a low, constant hum. A medical trolley was pushed past me, its wheels squeaking loudly against the linoleum floor. I walked back to my room, folded the blanket neatly, and left it on the bed. The container of porridge Nadia had bought was still sitting on the nightstand, completely cold. I picked up the spoon and forced myself to swallow two bites. Then, I gathered my belongings, settled my bill at the reception desk, and stepped out of the clinic. The mid-day sun beat down on me, blindingly bright. I stood on the curb, opened my phone, and booked a ride directly to the international airport. It was only when the taxi pulled away from the curb that I realized I hadn’t shed a single tear. My chest just felt completely empty, as if some vital piece of me had been quietly removed, leaving behind a hollow space where my feelings used to be. By the time the plane climbed into the sky, the island of Ibiza was nothing more than a tiny speck in the vast blue ocean, the white coastline shrinking into a thin, fragile thread. I leaned my head against the cool window pane and finally closed my eyes. I was done waiting.

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1 My six-month boyfriend, who texted me every day, confessed to my roommate on our first day of college. She wore my bunny scrunchie. As I reached for my phone to demand answers, glowing holographic text flooded my vision. [LMAO the side character thinks she matters. Log off.] [The FMC borrowed the villainess’s scrunchie and sparked instant love. Those looks were electric.] [Wait for the tantrums. Even if exposed, the ML returns to our girl. Angst fuels top-tier romance.] [He liked the side character only until meeting the FMC. Our girl wins every gaze.] I froze mid-reach. My phone buzzed with his message. “Babe, switch to my main number. Deleting this alt.” I typed a question mark and hit send. A red exclamation point appeared. Message failed. I had been blocked. The floating comments were still rolling frantically in front of my eyes. [Hahahaha this is too funny. The main couple just added each other on Snapchat. He thinks she’s using a burner account, so he just nuked the old one without a second thought. The side character looks so mad right now.] [Stay mad, honestly. Her only purpose in this story is to play matchmaker for the main couple. If it wasn’t her, it would be someone else.] [Ugh, but she’s totally about to go stalk him and act desperate. It sucks that our main couple is going to be forced apart. So stressful.] [Chill out! A brief separation will only make him realize that his heart truly belongs to our sweet girl. The more the villainess bullies her, the more chances he gets to play the hero. The hurt just makes the comfort ten times better!] I stood there staring at the floating words for a long time until the pieces finally clicked together in my head. Before heading downstairs, my roommate Sophie had asked to borrow my hair tie. Tristan saw the little bunny scrunchie in her hair, mistook her for me, and instantly poured his heart out to her. And just like that, they exchanged contacts. Tristan assumed the chat we had been using for half a year was just my secondary account, so he wiped it clean without a trace of hesitation. While I was lost in my own thoughts, Sophie casually walked back into our dorm room and stopped right in front of me. “Hey Lily, could you actually just sell this scrunchie to me? Please?” Before I could even process her words, she pulled out her phone and sent me ten bucks on Venmo, almost as if she was terrified I would say no. “Just sent the money over. Thanks so much!” She hugged her phone to her chest and practically skipped back to her bed, a dreamy smile plastered on her face. I opened my mouth, but the refusal died in my throat. Tristan had no idea that the girl he had been falling for over the past six months was actually me. We had originally crossed paths on an anonymous college forum. It took me months to finally muster up the courage to send him that first direct message. In the beginning, he was freezing cold. I was lucky if I got a single reply for every ten messages I sent. But I was happy just to have his attention. I racked my brain every single day trying to come up with interesting topics, just hoping he would talk to me a little longer. Slowly, the walls came down. He started replying faster. The real turning point happened at midnight a few months ago. He randomly texted me, asking if I could wish him a happy birthday. I was startled, but I replied instantly. We ended up staying on the phone until the sun came up. That was the night I learned his mother had passed away when he was young, and his dad had quickly remarried and started a new family. It was his birthday, and not a single person in his life had remembered. From that night on, everything shifted. We talked constantly. Three months later, we made it official. Once we started dating, Tristan became incredibly clingy. He begged to meet up in person all the time, but my own insecurities always held me back. We finally made a promise to meet on the first day of college. This morning, before Sophie left the room, she asked if she could borrow a hair tie. I handed her a plain black one, but she reached right past me and snatched the bunny scrunchie off my pillow. By the time I turned around to get it back, she was already out the door. I never in a million years imagined that Tristan would look at a piece of hair elastic and just assume the girl wearing it was me. I wanted to march over to Sophie and ask if she knew he had the wrong person. I wanted to ask why she was so desperate to buy it off me. More than anything, I wanted to run downstairs, stand right in front of Tristan, and scream that he had made a massive mistake. But my legs felt like they were filled with concrete. I couldn’t take a single step. [What’s going on? Why hasn’t the villainess gone after him yet? Shouldn’t she be storming out in a jealous rage right about now?] [Right? The plot is lagging.] [Man, poor FMC. She doesn’t even know the crazy roommate has figured it out. She’s just enjoying her sweet little romance. They’re about to get ripped apart and I’m already crying for her.] [Stay strong, sweetie!] I desperately wanted to go find him. But the floating text was painfully clear. Tristan and Sophie had experienced love at first sight. Even if I laid out all the evidence, he would still choose her in the end. I stood by my desk, battling with myself. Finally, the suffocating knot in my chest won out. I needed to face him. Even if he really did choose Sophie, I owed it to myself to fight for the relationship I had poured my heart into. Before leaving the room, I opened Venmo and sent the ten dollars right back to Sophie. “Sorry. It’s not for sale. Give it back.” That scrunchie was the only physical gift Tristan had ever given me. He was always trying to spoil me, randomly dropping hundred-dollar CashApp payments just to make me smile, constantly promising that we would be together forever. If I had known he would recognize a piece of fabric instead of my actual soul, I would have chased Sophie all the way to the lobby to rip it out of her hair. Seeing my outstretched hand, Sophie instinctively hid her hands behind her back, her fingers clutching the little fabric bunny for dear life. “L-Lily, didn’t I already send you the money?” I shook my head. “I’m not selling it.” I paused, deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt. “That scrunchie means something really special to me.” The moment those words left my mouth, Sophie’s eyes welled up with dramatic tears. The other girls in the dorm immediately sensed the tension and rushed over to play peacekeeper. “Come on Lily, it’s just a cheap hair tie. If Sophie likes it, just let her have it.” “Yeah, plus she already paid you. You can get a pack of those at Target for like five bucks. Ten dollars is more than fair.” I stood there in heavy silence. “This isn’t about money,” I finally said, my voice dangerously calm. “I told you, I don’t want to sell it. It has sentimental value.” Seeing I wasn’t going to back down, my roommates awkwardly dropped the subject. Sophie bit her lip, her eyes red and puffy, and slowly reached out to hand it back to me. But just as my fingers brushed the fabric, she let go. The hair tie plummeted to the floor. The little bunny charm was made of solid ceramic. It hit the unforgiving dorm tiles with a sharp crack, splitting cleanly into two jagged pieces. My hand hung suspended in the empty air. “Oh my god! I am so, so sorry Lily! It was a total accident, I thought you had a grip on it!” “I am so sorry, I’ll just pay you for it again, I feel terrible.” Sophie let out a pathetic little sob, frantically tapping on her phone to send me another ten dollars. My roommates immediately swooped in to defend her. “Let it go, Lily. She clearly didn’t mean to drop it. Don’t be so hard on her.” “Seriously, we have to live together for the next four years. Let’s not make things weird over an accident.” I couldn’t stomach another second of it. I bent down, picked up the shattered pieces, and walked straight out of the dorm without looking back. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew exactly what Sophie did. She let go on purpose. But it was true that the hair tie wasn’t worth much money. If I stayed in that room and screamed at her, all I would get were a few empty apologies. She had already sent the money. If I kept pushing, I would just look like the crazy, obsessed roommate making a scene over a piece of trash. And yet. My vision blurred as a hot, stinging sensation gathered in my eyes. I really loved that little bunny. Tristan had walked past a boutique one afternoon, FaceTimed me, and asked if I liked anything in the window. I had pointed at the little ceramic charm. He bought it right then and there and mailed it to me in a carefully wrapped box. And now it was broken. I paced back and forth outside the freshman boys’ dorms. Guys walking by shot me curious, lingering glances. The text in my vision flared up again, scrolling faster than before. [Tsk tsk tsk, here comes the villainess. She really doesn’t know when to quit.] [She knows our FMC already met the guy, but she still has to come ruin the vibe. So toxic.] [Standard jealous female side character behavior. Vicious and petty. But honestly, without her causing drama, how else is the main couple supposed to bond?] [Does she seriously think begging is going to work? This is just embarrassing. Second-hand embarrassment is so real right now.] [I feel like the male lead is going to be tainted… I mean, when he first finds out the truth, he actually gets manipulated into dating the villainess for a few days…] I stared at the glowing words, my chest tight. A part of me just wanted to turn around and walk away. But the anger burning in my veins refused to die down. We had spent countless hours pouring our hearts out through glowing screens. I had spent the entire summer dreaming about the moment we would finally meet. Would he like the real me? Would he think I wasn’t pretty enough? Would I be a disappointment? My fingers tightened around the sharp edge of the broken ceramic bunny, the pain grounding me. If I told him the truth, would it really end exactly like the floating text predicted? If he was just going to leave me anyway, what was the point of humiliating myself? The longer I stood there, the faster my courage bled out into the cool afternoon air. Just as I turned around, fully prepared to swallow my pride and walk away. I saw Tristan striding aggressively toward me. 2 Tristan was moving fast, carrying a wave of hostile energy with him. He stopped inches away from me. His jaw was clenched, his brows drawn together in a deep scowl. There was absolutely no joy of a first meeting in his eyes. Just pure, unfiltered disgust. “Are you Lily?” His tone was ice-cold, dripping with condescension. The broken ceramic edge bit deeply into my palm, but I forced my spine straight and gave a single nod. “I am.” Tristan let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He shoved his hands into his pockets, staring down at me like I was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe. “Sophie came back to the dorm crying her eyes out. She said you bullied her over some cheap piece of trash. We’re all in the same college, why are you so incredibly bitter?” “She literally just borrowed something from you. She paid you for it. What more do you want? Are you not going to be happy until you force her to move out?” The accusations hit me like a barrage of physical blows. I looked up at the face I had memorized from dozens of late-night selfies. The surreal absurdity of the situation almost made me laugh. Just last night, this exact same guy was calling me sweet names, promising that the second we met, he would buy me the most beautiful gifts in the world. Today, to defend a girl who stole my hair tie, he was standing in the middle of campus calling me a bitter bully. The floating text exploded like a fireworks show. [Yessss! Go off king! He sees right through her toxic vibe and steps up to protect our girl!] [The villainess is probably seething right now, but she can’t even say anything back. His aura is way too intimidating.] [That’s what you get for messing with our sweet girl! Tell her, Tristan! Don’t hold back!] I took a slow, deep breath. I walked over to the nearest trash can and dropped the broken pieces of ceramic inside. “Tristan.” I said his name, my voice completely devoid of emotion. He flinched. He clearly hadn’t expected me to speak to him so casually. His frown deepened. “How do you know my name? Did Sophie tell you?” I completely ignored the question. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened the exact messaging app account he had just blocked. The red ‘Message Failed’ icon was still glowing brightly on the screen. I flipped the phone around and shoved it right into his line of sight. “Take a good look at this.” Tristan glanced at it with pure annoyance, but a second later, his eyes locked onto the screen. His entire body went rigid. The profile picture on that account was a photo he had picked out for me. The chat background was a picture of the city skyline he had taken himself. And sitting right there at the bottom of the screen was the log of our three-hour voice call from the night before. The disgust melted off his face, replaced by a horrifying pale shock. His pupils dilated. “You…” He opened his mouth, but the word choked in his throat. I didn’t give him a single second to breathe. I tapped on a voice note he had sent me three days ago. “Babe, the second I see you on campus, I’m going to grab you and hold you so tight. Nobody is ever going to take you away from me.” My phone volume was turned all the way up. Tristan’s deep, desperately affectionate voice echoed loudly outside the dorms. A few guys walking past stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes wide with juicy gossip, staring right at us. All the blood drained from Tristan’s face. He looked like he had been physically bolted to the pavement. “Did you hear that?” I pulled my phone back, locking eyes with his terrified, bloodless face. I pronounced every single word with razor-sharp clarity. “That scrunchie was sitting on my bed. Sophie took it and put it in her hair without asking me.” “You’re not just legally blind, Tristan. You’re actually brain-dead.” “Consider the last six months of my time charity work. We are completely done.” Tristan looked like he had been struck by lightning. It took him several agonizing seconds to even form a coherent thought. He stared wildly at my face, then back at my phone, his lips trembling. “You’re… you’re the one I’ve been talking to? How is that even possible?” “But she was wearing the bunny! I asked her if she was Lily, and she nodded!” I watched his pathetic panic attack with nothing but cold amusement. “She nodded, so you just bought it? We talked every single day for half a year. You don’t even know my vibe? My personality? My face? A ten-dollar hair tie is all you need to identify the love of your life?” Panic fully set in. He instinctively took a step forward, reaching out to grab my hand. “Lily, wait, you have to let me explain. I was just so hyped to finally meet you, my brain completely short-circuited, I thought—” I took a sharp step back, dodging his hand like it was diseased. “Don’t call me that. It makes me sick.” “You weren’t acting like this two minutes ago. Weren’t you just demanding justice for your precious Sophie? Go on. Go be her knight in shining armor.” The floating text above me started glitching out in a chaotic frenzy of panic. [Holy shit?! Why is the plot leaking early?! He wasn’t supposed to find out for another three weeks!] [Why isn’t she following the script?! She’s supposed to swallow her pride and silently plot her revenge! If she just dumps the truth like this, how does the story even work?!] [We’re doomed. He knows he messed up. What happens to our FMC now?!] [Everyone chill! He’s just shocked! Did you guys forget they had love at first sight?! Even if he knows the truth, he’s definitely going to realize he likes the FMC more!] I looked at the desperately coping comments floating in the air and felt the last heavy knot of grief dissolve from my chest. They could twist the narrative all they wanted. A guy so aggressively stupid that he couldn’t even recognize the girl he claimed to love wasn’t a prize. He was a liability. I didn’t want him. “Tristan. Delete my number. Block me on everything. If you see me on campus, cross the street.” I spun on my heel and walked away. Looking at him for one more second felt like a waste of oxygen. Tristan shouted my name, his voice cracking with desperate panic. I didn’t even turn my head. I walked out of the dorm quad with long, confident strides. The warm afternoon sun hit my face, and suddenly, I felt incredibly light. Draining my own energy for someone who wasn’t worth it was the dumbest thing I could possibly do. When I got back to my own dorm, the door was cracked open. Before I even touched the handle, I heard Sophie’s pathetic, wavering voice echoing from inside. “I honestly didn’t know the hair tie was that big of a deal to her. It was just so cute, I thought she wouldn’t mind if I wore it for a bit…” “The way she glared at me downstairs… it really scared me. My hands were shaking so badly I dropped it. She definitely hates me now.” Jenna, one of my roommates, sighed heavily. “Stop crying, Sophie. Honestly, Lily is doing too much. Throwing a massive fit over a cheap piece of elastic is crazy.” Brooke chimed in right on cue. “Right? We literally have to live together for four years. If she’s going to act like a psychopath over every little thing, this is going to be a nightmare.” I stood outside the door, a cold smirk spreading across my face. I lifted my leg and kicked the door right open. The heavy wood slammed against the wall with a deafening crack. The room went dead silent in a millisecond. Sophie violently flinched. The fake tears were still glistening on her cheeks as she looked up at me with wide, terrified eyes, playing the ultimate victim. “L-Lily… you’re back.” I walked straight past her, pulled out my desk chair, and sat down. I stared at her. “Are you done crying? Because if you’re not, keep going. I’ll record a quick video and drop it on the campus snap story so the whole school can see what a tragic victim you are.” Sophie’s face drained of color. She frantically wiped her eyes. “Lily, please don’t do this. I already said I was sorry…” “Save your apologies.” I cut her off instantly. “You should be apologizing to Tristan.” The second the name ‘Tristan’ left my mouth, Sophie’s eyes darted nervously to the floor. Her fingers twisted into her shirt. I raised my voice so every single person in the room could hear me loud and clear. “You walked downstairs wearing my scrunchie. Tristan looked right at you and asked if you were Lily. Why did you nod?” “You knew damn well he was the guy I had been dating online for six months. You didn’t just steal my identity, you played right along and added his contact. Tell me, Sophie, does stealing someone else’s boyfriend give you a power trip?” The air in the room practically froze solid. Jenna and Brooke stared at me, their jaws practically on the floor, whipping their heads back and forth between me and Sophie. “Wait, Lily… what did you just say? Tristan is your boyfriend?” Jenna stammered. I tossed my phone onto the desk, the chat logs glowing brightly. “Read it yourselves. We’ve been talking for six months. We were supposed to meet today. Instead, Sophie stole my hair tie, pretended to be me, and then had the nerve to text him crying, sending him over to yell at me for being a bully.” My roommates leaned in to read the screen. Their expressions instantly soured. Brooke physically took a step away from Sophie, staring at her with pure disgust. “Sophie, what is actually wrong with you? That is insane.” Sophie panicked. She threw her hands up, her fake tears entirely replaced by genuine terror. “I didn’t do it on purpose! I swear I didn’t know he was your boyfriend! I thought he just mistook me for someone else, and he was so cute, I just panicked and gave him my snap… I really didn’t know!” I watched her pathetic act with absolute zero sympathy. “You didn’t know? Then how did you know exactly who to run to when you wanted someone to come scream at me outside the dorm?” “Cut the victim routine, Sophie. I just ripped Tristan a new one downstairs and dumped his ass.” “Since you love digging through my trash so much, you can keep the cheating loser. You two are perfect for each other.” The floating text was having a complete meltdown right in front of my face. [I am so incredibly angry right now! Why is the villainess such a massive bitch?! How dare she call our sweet girl trash!] [Don’t cry, baby! You don’t deserve to share a room with a psycho like her!] [Everyone calm down, the male lead is totally going to come comfort her. The higher the villainess acts right now, the harder she’s going to fall later.] [Exactly! Once Tristan sees how pure and innocent our FMC is, he’s going to fall head over heels. The villainess is just digging her own grave!] I didn’t even waste a blink on the holographic copium. Digging my own grave? We would see about that. The first week of classes started, and I completely detached myself from the drama. I threw every ounce of my energy into my industrial design courses and upcoming projects. The university had just announced the “Apex National Design Competition.” It was a massive deal for freshmen. Winning the national gold didn’t just mean a $10,000 cash prize. It guaranteed a fast track to a master’s program. I didn’t have the time or the brain cells to care about whatever pathetic soap opera Tristan and Sophie were filming. I lived in the library and the design studio, pulling reference data and building 3D models. One afternoon, I was sitting in my major’s core lecture.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “522240”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Ten years into my relationship with Eason, I found his marriage certificate tucked away in his office safe. I demanded a breakup on the spot, but he broke down, begging for a second chance. “I don’t want my dad’s illegitimate son getting his hands on the family business,” he’d pleaded, tears streaming down his face. “This strategic marriage was the only way to secure my position. She’s been living abroad this whole time; we’ve never even met. Trust me, the moment I take full control of the company, I’ll file for divorce. You’re the only one I love.” My heart softened. I foolishly believed him and agreed to wait. But as the years dragged on, even when my grandmother was admitted to the intensive care unit, there was still no sign of that divorce. Instead, while pushing my grandmother’s wheelchair through the hospital garden, I saw him. His arm was wrapped tightly around a woman who was visibly seven months pregnant. The tenderness in Eason’s eyes was a knife to my chest. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Just hang in there. Once the baby is born, I’ll make you whatever you want.” My hands shook, losing their grip. The wheelchair tilted, and Grandma slipped heavily onto the paved path. In my panic, my eyes locked right into his. … Eason instantly let go of Kathy’s hand. I quickly looked down, my hands trembling as I tried to help Grandma up. Grandma clutched my sleeve with a frail, tight grip, her voice weak. “Annie, is that… is that the boyfriend you showed me in the photos?” She had just come out of major surgery and couldn’t handle any shock. I shook my head, forcing a tight smile. “No, Grandma. You’re mistaken. That’s not him.” “Oh, my goodness! Are you alright?” a soft female voice called out from above us. “Eason, quick, help her up and get her to the emergency room.” Grandma’s body suddenly began to spasm. I wasn’t strong enough to lift her on my own, but Eason stepped in, hoisting her onto his back without a second thought. Even then, he didn’t forget to turn back and caution Kathy. “Kathy, stay here. Don’t run, think of the baby.” A bitter ache spread through my chest. Years ago, when Eason was buried in work, I used to carry files stacked higher than my head, running to keep up with him. Once, I slipped on a wet floor, the heavy folders spilling and bruising my knees. Eason had only frowned, looking annoyed. “I told you not to come if you couldn’t handle it.” But there was no time for old hurts now. I wiped my face and hurried after him. Grandma’s condition was critical, and she was rushed straight into the trauma bay. Only when the double doors swung shut did the adrenaline fade, leaving my mind spinning. The blood rushed to my head, and I had to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing. “So,” I whispered, my voice hollow. “Is this the wife you’ve ‘never met’?” Eason kept his voice low, glancing nervously at the hallway. “My dad’s illegitimate son is still trying to push me out. I had to keep up appearances to secure the board’s vote.” When I didn’t reply, his tone softened, turning coaxing. “I’ll cover all of your grandmother’s medical bills. Don’t worry about the money.” Before I could speak, Kathy walked in, hand supporting her lower back. Eason immediately turned his back on me, rushing to her side. “Kathy, slow down. Watch your step, the floor is slippery.” Kathy smiled, wrapping her arm around his. “Look at you, always stressing out.” I lowered my eyes, staring at my worn-out sneakers. “Thank you both for helping my grandmother. I can take it from here.” After they left, my phone buzzed with a message from Eason. I’ve brought in the hospital’s top specialists. Don’t worry about the bills. Just don’t mention us to Kathy. She’s pregnant, and she can’t handle any unnecessary stress right now. A dry, bitter laugh escaped my throat. Tears fell, hot and fast, splattering onto the glass screen. Ten years of devotion, reduced to a bad joke. I opened my work app and sent a message to my department head. I’ll take the relocation assignment to London. I’m ready to go. The doctor told me to prepare for the worst. Grandma’s vitals were declining rapidly, and she remained unconscious, hooked up to a tangle of tubes. I didn’t expect Eason to show up, carrying expensive organic gift baskets. He tried to pull me into his arms. “Don’t worry, Annie. She’s going to make it.” I pushed him away, my voice flat. “We’re done, Eason.” Eason sighed, rubbing his temples. “I didn’t tell you about Kathy because I knew you’d react like this. Annie, haven’t I been good to you? I’ve taken care of your grandmother’s expenses, and I’ve paid for her treatments over the last ten years. I do these things because I love you. Why can’t you just try to understand my position?” “You don’t love me,” I said, my voice cracking as I stared at him. “You just wanted a mistress who wouldn’t make trouble.” Eason’s expression hardened. “Annie, that’s unfair. If I didn’t care about you, would I spend this kind of money? I’m not asking you to pay me back. I just need you to stay by my side.” Before I could answer, the heart monitor beside the bed began to let out a long, continuous beep. Nurses and doctors rushed into the room, but after a frantic few minutes, the lead doctor gently shook his head at me. I watched the flat green line on the screen, and the world collapsed. I fell to my knees, sobbing until my chest ached. I handled the funeral arrangements entirely on my own, crying until my eyes were completely dry. On the morning of the memorial, I called Eason, hoping he would stand by my side. Grandma’s final wish had been to meet the man I had loved for a decade. “I’m so sorry, Annie, but the quarterly meeting is running late and I can’t slip away…” Through the receiver, Kathy’s voice drifted over the line. “Babe, look at these cute custom cupcakes! Let’s make some ourselves later.” I quietly hung up. A year ago, I had asked Eason if we could do a pottery class together to make custom mugs. He had laughed it off, calling it childish, and bought me a crystal glass from a luxury brand on his next business trip instead. I used to think he just didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Now I realized he was capable of romance, just not with me. My phone chimed with a message from my manager. Your transfer to the London office is approved. You leave in a month. I typed back a quick confirmation. When I got back to my apartment, Eason was waiting by my door, holding a takeout container. “You’re finally back. I brought you some homemade short rib soup. You’ve had a long day.” I didn’t say a word, unlocking the door and walking past him. He followed me inside. “Are you still upset about this afternoon? You know I couldn’t avoid the merger. Don’t make things harder for me than they already are. Kathy is heavily pregnant, and she needs me around.” Listening to his excuses, I felt nothing but a deep, exhausting weariness. “She’s your wife, Eason. You should be with her. You don’t owe me an explanation.” Eason’s face cleared, and he smiled. “Annie, I knew you’d understand. Just bear with me a little longer. Once the baby is born, I’ll have full control of the firm.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Eason, I want to break up.” He froze, then softened his voice, reaching out to stroke my hair. “Alright, let’s not fight. How about I take you to that new oyster bar downtown? I’ll shell them all for you.” His expression was perfectly practiced, the same gentle tone he always used to placate me. But there was no warmth in his eyes, just the same old routine of using small favors to quiet my complaints. Without a word, I turned and went to take a shower. By the time I came out, he had ordered a massive seafood platter, and a plate of neatly shelled shrimp sat in the center of the table. “See? I did them all for you. Come eat.” “I’m not hungry.” Eason’s smile vanished. “Annie, I am exhausted from dealing with the board all day. Do you really have to do this? I’m only asking you to wait a little longer. The baby is almost here…” Before I could respond, his phone chimed with a sweet, pre-recorded voice. “Daddy, answer the phone! Your little prince wants to talk to you!” Eason pulled out his phone, giving me an apologetic look. “Kathy set that as my ringtone. You should set one for me sometime. She’s been really anxious lately, so I shouldn’t stay out too long. I have to go.” I stared at the plate of shrimp on the table. Slowly, I picked it up and dumped the contents into the trash. The word Eason used most with me was “wait.” On our anniversary, he’d text: I can’t make it tonight. Wait until this project wraps up, and I’ll take you to the beach. On my birthday, after I’d cooked a full dinner: Go ahead and sleep. Wait until I get back, and I’ll make it up to you. When I was hospitalized with severe food poisoning: Kathy is feeling unwell too. Even if it’s a marriage on paper, I have to keep up appearances. Take your meds, and wait for me to get there. I spent a week in that hospital bed. He never showed up. For ten years, I had done nothing but wait, and I had nothing to show for it. I was always the secondary priority, tucked behind his career and his arranged marriage. I was done waiting. The next morning, my bank account showed a pending deposit of fifteen thousand dollars, my relocation stipend from the company. A delivery arrived shortly after—a rare designer handbag, accompanied by a note from Eason. Stop being stubborn. Don’t be mad anymore. I calculated my savings from the last few years, which came to about seventy-five thousand dollars. I sent Eason a text. Come to my apartment when you have a moment. A few minutes later, he replied. Wait until this week is over. What do you want from the duty-free shop? I’ll grab it for you. I didn’t bother replying. I headed to the mall to buy some travel essentials for my move. While passing the baby boutique section, I spotted Eason and Kathy picking out newborn clothes. Kathy caught my eye immediately. “Oh, hi, Ann!” I stopped, forcing a polite smile. “Hello.” She gave me a warm, friendly wave. “Eason told me about you. He said you’re a close colleague from work. I was so incredibly sorry to hear about your grandmother.” “Thank you,” I murmured. Kathy held up two tiny knit outfits. “I love the blue one, but Eason likes the cream. Since you’re here, which one do you think is cuter?” My fingers tightened around my purse strap. “They’re both lovely.” Eason quickly stepped in, guiding Kathy away. “Sweetheart, Ann isn’t married yet. She wouldn’t know anything about baby clothes. Let’s look at the strollers.” Kathy waved goodbye, wrapping her arm around his. “Can we go on the carousel after this?” “Of course,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “Whatever you want.” I remembered asking Eason to go to the amusement park with me once. He had laughed. “I’m not going there. Wait until I’m as childish as you, then maybe I’ll consider it.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked over to the luggage store. Just as I was paying for a large suitcase, Eason suddenly appeared beside me, pulling out his black card. “Let me get that for you.” “I already paid.” He paused, surprised. I reached into my bag, pulled out my debit card, and slid it into his hand. “There’s seventy-five thousand dollars on this card. It doesn’t cover everything you spent on Grandma’s medical bills, but it’s every cent of my savings.” Eason didn’t even look at the card. “How much do you make a month, Annie? It’s less than I make in a single day. Just keep it.” He wore that familiar, indulgent expression, entirely confident that I would eventually fall back into line. “Just be good,” he said softly. “Don’t cause unnecessary drama. My time is money, and I don’t want to waste it arguing with you.” I stared at him, my voice barely a whisper. “You just want me to be a quiet, compliant mistress.” The smile on his face faltered. “Don’t use terms like that. I’m just asking you to wait a little longer.” Always a little longer. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The weight of the last ten years seemed to lift all at once. I shoved the card into his coat pocket, grabbed my new suitcase, and walked away. Behind me, Kathy’s custom ringtone started to play, followed by the sound of Eason’s retreating footsteps. After wrapping up my projects at work, I returned to my apartment to pack. I found Eason sitting on my couch. I walked over and held out my hand. “Give me back my keys.” Eason’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand you anymore, Annie. I give you everything you ask for. Why are you never satisfied?” To him, my love was something that could be bought. To him, I was just a mistress who could be kept waiting indefinitely as long as the price was right. I reached into his suit jacket pocket, pulled out his key ring, slid my house key off, and opened the front door. “Please leave. I need to sleep.” Eason looked at me, his patience finally wearing thin. “Kathy is giving birth in a month. Once I take over the company, I will divorce her. Can you just wait? All you do is spend my money, you have no idea how much pressure I’m under.” He slammed the door as he left. I walked over and locked it quietly. Just as I was finishing my packing the next morning, an official email from HR popped up on my phone. Ann, due to a report of personal misconduct, your relocation transfer has been revoked. Please submit your resignation immediately. I had been summarily dismissed and locked out of all company group chats. I called my manager, demanding an explanation. He sounded incredibly uncomfortable. “Someone sent HR documentation and photos proving you are involved with a married man.” “Who sent it?” I pressed, my hand shaking. “It came from the Bennett Group’s corporate IP.” Livid, I drove straight to the Bennett Group headquarters and cornered Eason in the hallway. “Eason, did you get me fired?” He dragged me into a private breakroom, his expression dark. “What are you screaming about? This is my office, not your apartment.” I played the recording of my manager’s call. Eason looked genuinely shocked, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do this, Annie. It makes no sense for me to expose my own situation just to force you to quit. I’ll find out who did this and clear your name.” But when Eason ran a trace on the source IP, his face drained of color. The files had been sent directly from his personal work account. “This…” He stared at the screen, silent for a long moment before looking up at me with a complicated expression. “Let’s just say it was a misunderstanding. Don’t look into it any further.” I pulled out my phone to dial the police. Eason immediately snatched the phone from my hand. “It must have been Kathy. She has access to my devices. Let me call her.” Kathy answered on the second ring, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Oh, did I send those files to the wrong email? I’m so sorry, Ann. My mind has been all over the place with the pregnancy.” My career, my reputation, my hard work—all gone because of a “mistake.” “Go to HR and tell them the truth!” I shouted into the phone. Eason cut the call, his face tight with irritation. “What’s done is done. Your personal information hasn’t been leaked to the public, so what’s the rush? Kathy didn’t do it maliciously. Just tell me how much money you want to make up for the job.” From the phone on the counter, Kathy’s voice started crying. “I’m so sorry, Ann. It’s just pregnancy brain…” Eason picked up the phone, his voice instantly softening. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry, it’s bad for the baby. I’ll handle everything.” I was the victim, yet his only concern was comforting the woman who had ruined my career. I had worked late nights, weekends, and holidays for this promotion. London was supposed to be my fresh start. And now, my career was in ruins because of their little games. I closed my eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. When I opened them, the last shred of affection I had for him was gone. “Give me the original files of those photos,” I said, my voice dead. “And I will disappear from your life forever.” Eason pulled up the files on his laptop. The photos clearly showed my face, while his had been carefully blurred out. I permanently deleted every single copy from his drive, turned around, and walked out of the building. On my way out, I booked a one-way ticket to London for the following evening. My phone buzzed with a text from Eason. Don’t be angry, Annie. Kathy really didn’t mean to do it. Just wait for me. Once the board meeting wraps up today, the company is mine. Always wait. How many more decades did he think I had to waste? I remembered the New Year’s Eve I spent freezing on his porch, holding a thermos of hot soup while he stayed home to comfort Kathy because she was lonely. He had told me to wait. By the time the fireworks ended, he still hadn’t come. I remembered getting caught in a torrential downpour, asking him to pick me up. He told me Kathy was terrified of thunder and asked me to wait. I waited four hours in a lobby before walking home in the freezing rain. I had begged him to meet my grandmother. He told me to wait. She died without ever knowing the man I had loved for ten years. I didn’t reply. Within an hour, Eason caught up to me outside my apartment building, grabbing my arm. “Annie, you’re being completely unreasonable! Kathy is carrying my child. Of course I have to prioritize her right now. You always have to make such a scene when I’ve already told you to just wait.” Tears slipped down my cheeks, quiet and cold. “Then what was the last decade to you, Eason?” He froze, caught off guard. I wiped my face, looking him in the eyes. “Do you even love me?” Eason let out a soft laugh, reaching up to pinch my cheek as if I were a petulant child. “I swear, you are so adorable sometimes.” I knocked his hand away. “If you don’t love me, and you won’t let me go, what do you actually want from me?” Eason thought about it for a moment, smiling. “I like having a sweet little kitten waiting for me at home.” He looked genuinely excited as he continued, “Once I take over the company, I’ll take you to Bali. Just wait for me, okay? Like you always do.” I looked at his smiling face, feeling absolutely nothing. He had no idea that this was the very last time I would ever wait for him.

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I was the quintessential trophy wife, perfectly trained and utterly submissive. Ever since we got married, Kevin controlled every aspect of my life. If he told me to go east, I didn’t even dare glance west. That was, until the glowing words started floating in thin air. That was how I discovered I was nothing but a pathetic, clingy side character in a modern romance novel. [LMAO, the side character is so spineless. She even lets him boss her around in bed.] [She crawls away crying, but one look from the male lead and she scurries right back, trembling. Pathetic.] [To be fair, it’s kind of cute. But so what? The male lead is destined to fall for the fierce, independent heroine who actually challenges him!] My eyes widened in the dark. Later that night. Kevin opened his arms toward me, expecting his usual routine. But I didn’t curl into his embrace like a well-behaved pet. Instead, I sat up straight, looked him dead in the eye, and provoked him. “I am sick of this. I have never even been satisfied!” 1 The heavy, intimate atmosphere in the bedroom vanished instantly. Dead silence. Kevin looked down at me, his gaze unreadable. If this were yesterday, my heart would have skipped a beat in terror. I would have bitten my lip, practically crawling into his arms, whispering apologies about how I was just joking. But things were different now. I had to change. I could no longer be Kevin’s obedient little doll. I refused to let him manage my life anymore. His thin lips finally parted. “You have never been satisfied?” My eyes widened slightly. He stared at me with absolute calm, his voice utterly flat. “Then why do you always tremble so much at the end?” I was speechless. Damn it. That suffocating, authoritative pressure of his was hard to fight. I cleared my throat awkwardly. “I was faking it.” A faint crease appeared between Kevin’s brows. I pushed my luck, keeping my tone deadly serious. “Look at you, always needing to get to the bottom of everything! Now you know the truth, and you are upset. I was just trying to protect your fragile male ego. I had to put on a performance every single time, and frankly, I am exhausted from acting.” Having fired off that entire monologue in one breath, I exhaled heavily. Provoking him like this definitely gave me that fierce heroine energy the floating comments were talking about, right? The air in the room completely stagnated. Kevin’s expression didn’t change. He simply lifted his heavy eyelids, his dark gaze pinning me to the mattress. “Is that so?” After a long, agonizing pause, he finally spoke again. “It must have been very hard on you all this time.” I guiltily lowered my eyes. “It wasn’t that hard…” A second later, I realized my mistake and snapped my head up. “Actually, yes. It was extremely difficult. You definitely need to improve.” Before he could respond, I dropped another bomb. “There is one more thing. I passed my resume screening at Nova Innovations. I am starting my new job there tomorrow.” Kevin just looked at me. He didn’t say a word. I hesitated for a second before adding my defense. “After all, I can’t just be a stay-at-home wife forever.” His tone was entirely indifferent. “If memory serves, that company belongs to your ex-boyfriend.” “Uh, yeah, I think so. But it is a big place, I probably won’t even see him. Besides, my career is my own business.” Kevin’s long, elegant fingers moved up to his collar, slowly unbuttoning the top button of his pajama shirt. My heart did a terrifying little flip, cold sweat breaking out on my back. I knew that gesture. Every time he was about to brutally dress down a corporate executive, he did exactly that. And he did it when he was about to lecture me, too. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting every ingrained instinct that screamed at me to surrender and apologize. Thankfully, the lecture never came. He just looked away and said one word. “Fine.” 2 I lay flat on the incredibly soft mattress. The space beside me was already cold. Kevin had gone to his home office to handle late-night emails. The glowing text materialized in front of my eyes once again. [Wait, why is the side character suddenly fighting back?] [The submissive wife is having an awakening…] [But you have to admit, seeing this just proves the male lead doesn’t love her at all.] [Exactly! She literally said she is going to work at her ex’s company, and he just agreed. Later in the story, once he falls for the real heroine, he completely loses his mind if she even looks at another guy.] [True! The heroine talks to a waiter and the male lead gets crazy jealous and possessesive.] I stared at the floating words. Whatever drowsiness I had was entirely gone. I was wide awake. I tossed and turned, violently twisting the expensive sheets. I was so incredibly furious. Kevin was six years older than me. We grew up in the same wealthy social circles, so he was essentially the older boy next door. He was brilliant, cold, and relentlessly strict. The ultimate golden child. Because my grades were terrible, our parents forced him to tutor me. I spent my childhood getting scolded by him. If my mind wandered, he would tap my knuckles with his pen. In my eyes, he was always an older brother. A teacher. An authority figure. So even when we got married, I was still terrified of him. But Kevin was undeniably exceptional. After taking over the Hopkins Group, his ruthless and decisive tactics made their empire expand exponentially. I had just gotten used to obeying him. And my reward for years of absolute submission was getting mentally cheated on? The next morning. I dragged myself downstairs for breakfast, sporting heavy dark circles under my eyes. A flawless gourmet breakfast was already laid out on the long mahogany dining table. Kevin was sitting at his usual spot, impeccably dressed in a custom-tailored suit, silently eating. The private chef looked at me in shock. “Madam, you are up…” I waved a hand dismissively. “Just throw something simple together for me.” For years, I had slept in until noon and went straight to lunch. Kevin was always the only one who ate breakfast in this massive house. I couldn’t blame the chef for staring. Kevin set down his silver cutlery. His dark eyes lifted, locking onto me. I sat there looking miserable and kept my mouth shut. In the past, I would have already put on a bright, bubbly smile and chirped about how handsome my husband looked today. But I simply didn’t have the energy for the performance anymore. “Going to your orientation?” he finally asked. I just gave a noncommittal hum. The dining room fell right back into a suffocating silence. 3 It wasn’t until we got into separate luxury cars, driving off in completely opposite directions, that reality truly hit me. If I didn’t actively force a conversation, Kevin and I had absolutely nothing to say to each other. I used to be so painfully dense. I never even noticed. I used to act like an absolute idiot, following him around, calling him sweet pet names, racking my brain for anything to talk about just to fill the quiet. I stared blankly out the window, letting out a heavy sigh. After checking in at my new office, I barely had time to read the onboarding manual before I was dragged into a departmental strategy meeting. A gorgeous, radiant girl with her hair pulled into a high ponytail was standing at the front of the conference room, confidently presenting a marketing proposal. I sat in the back row, stifling a yawn while taking lazy notes. A coworker next to me whispered. “I heard she is just a college intern. Isn’t she amazing?” “Right? She knows her stuff, and she is so fiercely opinionated.” Hearing those specific adjectives made me pause, but I didn’t dwell on it. Until she reached the climax of her brilliant presentation. The heavy glass doors of the conference room swung open. The department director practically bowed as he walked in. “Mr. Hopkins, right this way, please.” My head snapped up. The same man I had coldly parted ways with this morning was casually strolling into my office. He was impossibly tall, radiating an aristocratic, freezing aura. The floating comments instantly exploded in my field of vision. [OMG! Mom and Dad are finally meeting!] [The butterfly effect is real! If the side character hadn’t randomly decided to get a job, the main couple wouldn’t have met this early.] [We actually have to thank the side character for giving us this sweet romance so soon.] [The poor side character is still throwing a tantrum today, completely unaware that she is just speeding up her own divorce.] [Yeah, if she had just stayed the obedient little wife, the male lead might have actually felt a little pity for her.] I was completely out of energy. Being the discarded side character in someone else’s love story was absolutely exhausting. My eyes lingered on the second comment. So, Kevin wasn’t here by coincidence. He came here specifically for me? I rubbed my chin in thought, right as my gaze collided with his pitch-black eyes. The seat directly across from me happened to be empty. Kevin pulled out the chair and sat down. His dark stare rested on my face for exactly one second before he looked away. The director nervously hovered nearby. “These slides outline our newest strategic approach, which perfectly aligns with the Hopkins Group’s core philosophy.” Kevin looked at the screen with an impassive face. I looked at him, then looked at the bright, confident intern presenting the slides. I couldn’t help but think it to myself. They really did look like the perfect novel couple. The cold billionaire and the bright, talented girl. A match made in heaven. As I thought about it, my grip on my pen tightened. I wanted to take this stupid ballpoint pen and stab a hole right through Kevin’s expensive suit. By the time I snapped out of my murderous daydream, the room was dead quiet. I looked up in confusion, only to find Kevin staring right at me again. The director immediately snapped at me. “This is not the time to be daydreaming! Pay attention!” Kevin slowly raised a long finger, silencing the man. “It is fine.” He paused, his voice dropping into a cool, flat tone. “However, if you find the corporate pace too difficult to adapt to, you are always welcome to stay home.” The director nodded profusely. “Of course, of course, Mr. Hopkins.” I dropped my pen on the table, grinding my teeth. When the presentation finally ended, everyone filed out. I stayed glued to my chair, refusing to leave. Kevin didn’t leave either. He sent his assistant away to handle the actual contract negotiations. Soon, it was just the two of us left in the empty boardroom. “What was that supposed to mean?” I glared at him. “Were you trying to publicly humiliate me?” Kevin raised a brow. “No.” I bit my lip, deciding to change the subject. “I never heard anything about the Hopkins Group collaborating with Nova Innovations. Why the sudden partnership? And why would the CEO show up in person? Is it because of…” Because of me? Before I could finish the sentence, he cut me off, his tone entirely dismissive. “You have never taken an interest in my corporate affairs. It is only natural you wouldn’t know.” I froze, completely struck dumb by the cold rejection. Right at that moment, the door opened. The bright intern who had presented the slides walked in. The actual heroine of the story. Stella. She froze when she saw Kevin and me alone in the room. “Oh, you two are…” Kevin casually took a step back, putting a very clear, professional distance between us. Stella smiled warmly, completely unfazed. “I am so sorry to interrupt your conversation. I just forgot my flash drive on the podium.” Kevin gave her a polite nod. “It is no problem.” I opened my mouth to speak, but the words died in my throat. I just gave a quiet, awkward nod. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fight the plot. Before I could sink into a depression, someone called my name. It was Sarah, the senior employee assigned to train me. She patiently clicked through a shared drive on my computer. “This folder has all the standard templates for our corporate agreements. Look through them so you know where everything is. Let me know if you get stuck.” With that, she walked away. I skimmed the list of files, my eyes locking onto a specific document. My finger clicked the mouse. I opened the template for a Divorce Settlement Agreement. I quietly saved a copy to my personal desktop. When I turned my chair around, I nearly jumped out of my skin. A tall figure was standing right behind me. I had no idea how long he had been there. His calm, dark eyes shifted slowly from my computer monitor down to my face. My heart skipped a beat. “Kevin…” The air felt thick like molasses. The silence was so heavy it made my chest ache with panic. “It is… I have a friend. She is going through a messy divorce with her husband.” The lie tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “I was just doing some research to help her out.” The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself. Why did I instinctively make up an excuse? And such a pathetic one, too. But knowing Kevin’s personality, I figured he wouldn’t care enough to ask follow-up questions. I was just starting to mentally sigh in relief when his flat, emotionless voice cut through the air. “Which friend? Why haven’t I heard about this?” I stared at him. Why was he suddenly so inquisitive? I stayed silent for a moment before giving him a taste of his own medicine. “You have never taken an interest in my social life. It is only natural you wouldn’t know.” Kevin looked down at me, his thick eyelashes fluttering slightly. After a long pause, he turned around and walked away. 4 From that day on, Kevin and I entered a brutal cold war that lasted for half a month. He moved his things into the guest bedroom. Half the time, he didn’t even come home, choosing to sleep in the executive suite at his headquarters. I spent my days secretly meeting with a high-end divorce attorney. After years of marriage, the Hopkins and Lockhart families had deeply intertwined financial interests. Untangling those assets without causing a stock market crash required meticulous planning. It was a slow process. One night, I came home exhausted from working late. The lights in the grand living room were dim. A tall, solitary figure was sitting on the velvet sofa. I paused in the entryway. “…Kevin?” I realized then that I physically couldn’t force myself to put on a sweet voice and call him ‘hubby’ anymore. Kevin looked up, his dark eyes locking onto me. I hesitated. “Were you waiting for me?” The massive house was dead quiet. He didn’t answer. Right. I was just flattering myself again. Just as I lifted my foot to head up the grand staircase, his calm voice echoed in the dark. “There is a charity gala the day after tomorrow. We are attending together.” I was about to reject him outright, but then I thought about it. The divorce papers weren’t finalized yet. If we started making public scenes now, the rumors would spread, and my parents would worry endlessly. Standing in the dim lighting, Kevin and I stared at each other. I gave a tired hum of agreement and walked straight upstairs. The room remained perfectly silent. Kevin stayed sitting on the sofa, completely motionless. 5 The night of the gala. I walked into the grand ballroom with my hand resting lightly on Kevin’s arm. A sudden wave of intense discomfort washed over me. I completely lost the desire I used to have for his physical touch. Thankfully, I spotted a socialite friend across the room. I immediately dropped Kevin’s arm and hurried over to her, escaping the suffocating proximity. Kevin stopped in his tracks, his long fingers lightly brushing the sleeve of his suit where my hand had just been. … My friend grabbed my hand, excitedly filling me in on her life. “I have to tell you, my husband and I went to see the active volcanoes last week. It was incredible. Next month, we are booking a private island. Oh, how are things with you and your terrifying billionaire?” I pressed my lips together, dodging the question. Looking at her sparkling eyes, I suddenly asked, “Do you and your husband… talk a lot?” “Of course we do.” She looked at me like I had asked a stupid question, then frowned dramatically. “But we argue all the time too! Sometimes I get so mad I want to punch him in the face… but he always ends up apologizing and coaxing me back to a good mood.” As she kept talking, my mind started to drift. Kevin and I had never had a real argument. If we ever disagreed, I always gave in. If I did something that annoyed him, even if I knew I wasn’t wrong, I was always the one who surrendered and apologized first. I couldn’t absorb a single word my friend said after that. Seeing my pale face, she asked gently, “Do you want to go to the VIP lounge for a bit? It is a little stuffy out here.” I shook my head and excused myself to go to the restroom. The gala was a sea of clinking champagne glasses and expensive perfume. There were plenty of international elites who had flown in just for this event. I recognized several familiar faces from the old days, and Kevin was likely off networking with his own inner circle. I walked down the quiet marble hallway, my mind completely unsettled. Until I heard a familiar, deep voice say, “It is fine.” I stopped dead in my tracks. A man’s voice immediately followed. “We all told you back then. If you didn’t love her, you shouldn’t have agreed to the political marriage. Now look at the mess you are in.” “Exactly. You clearly didn’t want it. You should have just followed your heart, man.” “Look at you now. This is what happens when you make a massive mistake.” A massive… mistake. I stood there in the shadows, staring blankly at the tips of my designer heels. I had always stupidly believed that Kevin harbored at least a little bit of affection for me. We had known each other our entire lives, after all. I thought that, just like the floating comments said, he only changed his mind because he was drawn to the bright, independent heroine. But the truth was, he never had any feelings for me to begin with. To him, our entire marriage was nothing but a regrettable error. The man’s voice continued. “But I hear you are finally getting the divorce sorted out. Good for you. Better to escape that misery while you can.” I spun around and practically ran in the opposite direction. My chest felt like it was going to explode with sheer rage and humiliation. Escape that misery? For years, I worshipped the ground he walked on, completely erasing my own personality to please him, and he considered being married to me a misery?! Then why didn’t he ask for a divorce years ago? Oh, right. Because Stella hadn’t appeared yet. Now that his perfect woman was in the picture, he didn’t want to settle anymore. Fuming with anger, I wasn’t looking where I was going. I slammed hard into someone’s chest. I stumbled back, quickly apologizing. “I am so sorry, are you alright?” “…Serena?” A hesitant voice called my name. I looked up, meeting a pair of very surprised eyes. I stumbled over my words. “Oh… Liam. Long time no see.” The man gave a soft laugh. “You just started working at my company, right? I have been overseas on business, so I only just saw you on the floor. What a coincidence.” I scratched my cheek awkwardly. “Yeah.” He looked at me closely. “Why did you suddenly decide to join the workforce? Does your…” He chose his next words carefully. “Does your husband mind?” Back in the day, Kevin and I had a wedding that practically shut down the city. Everyone in high society knew about it. Naturally, my ex-boyfriend Liam knew about it too. I forced a tight smile. “He will be gone very soon.” Liam froze. I kept my voice perfectly casual and repeated myself. “I said, I won’t have a husband very soon.” Yeah. I wasn’t cursing Kevin to die. I was just calmly stating the objective fact of our impending divorce. Liam didn’t respond for a long time. I followed his gaze and looked over my shoulder. Kevin was standing right behind me, a crystal champagne flute in his hand. His bespoke suit was as immaculate as always, though his silk tie was loosened just a fraction. His dark eyes landed heavily on me, then casually slid over to Liam, not lingering for even a second. Utterly devoid of warmth. How does he walk like a ghost? Does he not make any noise? I instinctively took a half-step backward. My back bumped right into Liam’s arm. Liam quickly reached out to steady me, then politely let go. “Mr. Hopkins,” Liam spoke first, his tone perfectly diplomatic. “I have heard a lot about you.” Kevin didn’t even look at him. Instead, he looked down at me. It was that terrifying, calculating look I knew all too well. The exact same look he gave me when he caught me daydreaming during our study sessions as kids. The hallway fell dead silent. It felt like an invisible barrier had slammed down, cutting us off from the noise of the ballroom. My heart was pounding out of my chest. My palms were slick with nervous sweat. “I will leave you two to catch up,” I managed to force a stiff smile. “I promised my friend I would find her.” I turned to flee. But a large hand clamped firmly around my wrist. Kevin’s thumb, slightly calloused, pressed against my pulse point. I froze, looking up into his dark eyes. “We are done catching up,” Kevin said, his voice flat. “I will go with you.” I completely stiffened. Liam looked at me, then looked at Kevin. He wisely smiled and took a step back. “I will excuse myself then. Serena, see you at the office.” I couldn’t tell if I was imagining it, but the grip on my wrist instantly tightened to the point of pain. The moment Liam disappeared around the corner, I tried to rip my arm out of Kevin’s grasp. But his fingers were like iron. Struggling was completely useless. “What did you mean?” Kevin’s lips barely moved, his voice dangerously low. I bit my lip, staring defiantly into his eyes. I slowly opened my mouth. “You heard exactly what I said, Kevin. We are getting a div—” “Mr. Hopkins!” A frantic voice suddenly interrupted me. A middle-aged executive hurried over, giving me a quick, nervous nod. “Madam.” He then turned to Kevin in a panic. “Mr. Hopkins, Miss Stella is being harassed by a group of guests by the ice sculpture. Everyone is watching…” The glowing text, which had been silent for days, suddenly exploded in my vision. [Here it comes! The classic hero-saves-the-beauty scene!] [Hurry up, male lead! Our poor, resilient heroine is about to get a drink thrown in her face!] [I have a feeling tonight is the turning point for their romance!] [The side character needs to back off and stop ruining the plot. I want my romantic climax!] I instinctively looked up at Kevin’s face. His gaze had already left mine, locking onto the direction the executive was pointing. Kevin’s fingers, which had been cutting off the circulation to my wrist, slowly loosened. He took a step away from me, toward the ballroom. I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “I thought you were coming with me to see my friend? Change of plans?” Kevin’s brows pulled together slightly. “Wait for me after the gala. I will find you.” I stood rooted to the spot, watching his broad shoulders and tall silhouette march step by step toward the girl trapped in the center of the crowd. Then, I heard his low, commanding voice cut through the noise. From halfway across the massive ballroom, it wasn’t clear, but I caught the word: “Stella.” The crowd parted like the Red Sea. I watched Stella look up at him. Her bright eyes were filled with the perfect mixture of shock and profound gratitude. They looked so perfect together. The whispers of the socialites drifted over to me. “Who is that girl?” “I heard she is just an intern at Liam Cross’s company.” “Really? What is her relationship with Kevin Hopkins? He looks ready to kill for her.” “Keep your voice down! Kevin and Serena are happily married. It is probably just a corporate courtesy thing.” The last two sentences were quickly tacked on when they realized I was standing right there. I listened in silence, staring at the scene unfolding in the distance. Just by standing next to her, Kevin dissolved all the malice directed at Stella. The people who had been bullying her were suddenly all smiles, frantically apologizing and claiming it was all a big misunderstanding. The comments were still flying across my eyes. [They look so cinematic standing together.] [Standing in front of the whole world to shield her from their cruelty… I am swooning.] [The side character looks so pathetic standing all alone in the corner. I almost feel bad for her.] [That is what happens when you let a man walk all over you. You get left in the dust to cry.] [I really hope the side character doesn’t turn crazy and start harassing the male lead… She loves him so much, it is going to be messy.] Kevin stood beside Stella. Elegant, unbothered, and radiating a warmth I rarely ever saw. I looked down at my expensive shoes and smiled. Harass him? Why would I ever do that? I had finally realized the cold, hard truth. Kevin and I were fundamentally incompatible. I had never once truly walked into his heart. I didn’t wait for the gala to end. I called my driver and left. As for Kevin saying he would find me afterward? Who would believe that? Only an absolute idiot would sit around waiting for him.

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The moment I realized Caitlin existed, I couldn’t ignore the betrayal. I demanded a divorce immediately. Joshua locked himself in his study, smoking for half a day. When he finally emerged, his voice was raspy as he tried to persuade me. “Caitlin doesn’t believe in marriage,” he said. “She will never interfere with our life.” How utterly shameless. I slapped him across the face. He pressed his tongue against his burning cheek, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. “It’s just a casual thing, Gwen. A little fun. What’s the big deal? Can you stop overreacting?” With that, he slammed the door and walked out. That very night, I accidentally connected with myself from ten years in the future. On the screen, she looked exhausted, her eyes sunken. “Gwen,” she said, her voice hollow. “I already tried the path of divorcing him the second he cheated. It didn’t end well.” “Let me give you a piece of advice. If you’re too rigid, you’ll break. Love isn’t everything. Don’t love a man. Learn to use him.” “You can get a divorce, but absolutely not right now.” 1 The woman staring back at me from the screen possessed my exact features, yet she was so terribly withered she looked like a stranger. Staring at her, my throat tightened. I had always been stubborn and proud. The day I confronted Joshua, only one thought filled my mind: marriage is meant to improve your life, and so is divorce. There was nothing to hesitate about. Cut the losses and move on. I was never one to drag things out. Yet, the face on the screen had “I am miserable” etched into every single wrinkle. Taking a deep breath to push down my rising panic, I asked the question that mattered most to me right now. “What about Lily? Did she get into Berklee?” A flash of pain crossed her face, and she slowly shook her head. “She didn’t keep playing the violin.” I froze. My daughter Lily was only seven, but her talent was already undeniable. Her tutor had told me she was a rare prodigy. Every day after school, the first thing she did was practice. I had to call her for dinner three or four times before she would finally put the bow down. Her dream was to become a concert violinist, to perform at Carnegie Hall just for me. There was no way she would just quit. Looking at my stunned expression, my future self offered no comfort. She simply asked, “How much are her private lessons right now?” “A hundred and fifty dollars an hour.” She let out a bitter, joyless laugh. “Look at that. That’s over ten thousand a year just for basic lessons. Add in masterclasses and prep school auditions, and it’s a fortune. Meanwhile, my salary as a research assistant, even ten years from now, barely clears forty-five thousand after taxes.” 2 She shook her head with a wry smile, deepening the lines around her mouth. “When we divorced, Caitlin was terrified we’d stay in touch. She forced Joshua to pay a lump sum for child support and cut us off.” “Whenever Joshua came to visit Lily, Caitlin would tag along, screaming insults outside our building. I didn’t want Lily to hear that, so I stopped letting him come.” She paused. “Later on, they had a son. By the fourth year of our divorce, Lily hadn’t seen her father at all.” I didn’t say a word, my chest feeling as though a heavy stone had settled on it. “Because I insisted on the divorce, Joshua was furious. He dragged out the asset division to punish me. Desperate to escape, I walked away with nothing but this house. I refused to let Lily give up the violin, so I carried that financial burden alone until she turned fourteen.” “And then?” My throat was incredibly dry. “Then I had to sell the house. The housing market had crashed, and I lost over two hundred thousand dollars on it.” My heart gripped. “Was the money… for Lily’s tuition?” Her eyes welled with tears. “Dad was diagnosed with cancer.” I went numb, my mind going completely blank. My father was healthy right now. He still went for long walks in the park every morning. “It happened three years ago,” she said, wiping her eyes. “He saw me struggling as a single mother, working myself to the bone. He hid his symptoms because he didn’t want to burden me. By the time we found out, it had already metastasized.” It felt as if a hand was squeezing my windpipe. It took everything I had to whisper, “And Dad… is he…?” “He passed away over a year ago.” My breath hitched. “The night Lily found out her grandfather was sick,” she continued, “she packed her violin away. She told me she was done playing, that we needed to save the money for his treatment. No matter how much I begged, she refused. She never touched the violin again.” So, in the eight years following my hasty divorce, my daughter’s dream was shattered, and my father was gone. The pain in my chest was so sharp I could barely breathe. 3 Before I could speak, the screen flickered violently and the connection cut out. A few seconds later, an unknown number video-called me. The moment the screen lit up, Caitlin’s face filled the frame. She was leaning back in Joshua’s arms, her makeup flawless, her eyes curved in a lazy, arrogant smile. Joshua had his arm wrapped around her waist, his chin resting against her shoulder. He looked more relaxed than I had seen him in years. “Your little wife is the textbook definition of a boring academic,” Caitlin teased, her tone dripping with mock pity. “Prude, stiff, and utterly brainless. Is she really trying to divorce you?” Joshua gave a low grunt of agreement. Caitlin laughed. “What are we going to do? You know I have absolutely no intention of ever marrying you. I’m strictly child-free. I can’t stand the shackles of a domestic life. I’m only here for the romance, not the dirty dishes and laundry.” She tapped her fingers playfully against the back of Joshua’s hand. “Poor baby. You’re going to lose your wife and kid all because of me.” Before she could finish, Joshua leaned down and kissed her. The video froze right there. I stared at the screen as nausea washed over me, a bitter taste rising in my throat. After the screen went dark, I sat in the shadows for a long time. Once I gathered my thoughts, the very first thing I did was make a few phone calls to dig into Caitlin’s background. The details arrived quickly. She was three years older than me and worked as a senior sales manager for one of Joshua’s company’s main pharmaceutical suppliers. She had been in the industry for a decade, consistently landing the top sales spot. She was known for being fierce and relentless. Her favorite catchphrase was, “I’ve got the money and the looks. Why would I ruin my life with a marriage?” People in her field called her the thorned wild rose. Many of the younger girls at her company idolized her, praising her for living life on her own terms and refusing to be tied down by societal expectations. I was certain she had sent me that video on purpose. Even if she had no intention of marrying Joshua, she still wanted the satisfaction of asserting her dominance over his legal wife. 4 When I connected with my future self again, I bypassed the pleasantries. “You said they had a son? I thought Caitlin didn’t believe in marriage.” The woman on the screen let out a mocking laugh. “The year I divorced Joshua, Caitlin was thirty-three. That anti-marriage stance of hers lasted exactly two more years.” “Once she turned thirty-five, age anxiety kicked in. She had her fun when she was young, but eventually, she craved stability. She dragged Joshua to the courthouse, and she gave birth to their son the following year.” I opened my mouth, but no words came. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps came from her side of the screen. A tall, slender teenager peeked into the room. Her hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and her face held traces of Lily as a child, but her eyes were far too quiet for a seventeen-year-old. “Mom,” she said softly. “I warmed up some milk for you.” “Just leave it on the desk, sweetie,” my future self replied, her voice softening instantly. “By the way, why didn’t you tell me about the school summer camp?” Lily looked down. “I don’t want to go, Mom. I’d rather stay home and keep you company.” With that, she quietly backed out of the room and shut the door behind her. Staring at the closed door, a sudden wave of grief hit me, and tears began to pour down my face. On the screen, my future self tapped her phone, and several screenshots appeared on my screen. “See for yourself,” she said. In the photos, Joshua and Caitlin were holding a little boy’s hands, standing beneath the northern lights in Norway. The boy was bundled up in a thick winter coat, sitting on Joshua’s shoulders and laughing happily. The caption read: Successfully chased whales with my little prince. The Arctic Circle is even more romantic than I imagined. In the next few photos, they were overlooking glaciers from a helicopter, clinking champagne glasses on the deck of a luxury cruise, and Caitlin was posing with designer sunglasses. “Joshua eventually started his own medical supply company. He caught the market boom and made millions,” she said, her words slicing through me like ice. “And what about you? You couldn’t even save your own father, and your daughter couldn’t even bring herself to go to a summer camp because of the cost.” She stared at me, her eyes burning. “You sowed the seeds in tears, Gwen. Why should another woman reap the harvest in joy?” She wasn’t exaggerating. My mother-in-law had passed away from cancer years ago. From her diagnosis to her death, it took over three years. That was during the peak of Joshua’s early career, which meant the caregiving fell entirely on me. I was burning the candle at both ends, working in the lab by day and staying at the hospital by night. The night his mother passed away, I was five months pregnant, managing the funeral arrangements completely alone. By the time Joshua arrived, he had missed her final moments entirely. “Gwen, please listen to me,” her voice cracked with a decade of unshed tears. “Love doesn’t matter. Don’t love a man. Learn to use him.” “This is the lesson I paid for with my life.” Tears streamed down my cheeks as I nodded in agreement. Looking at me, a flicker of relief appeared in her eyes, seeing that I had finally taken her words to heart. Then, her image began to blur, dissolving like ink in water, fading until the screen went completely black. The contact number disappeared, as if it had never existed at all. [The path of soft-hearted submission has led to ruin. To see Gwen turn her future self’s painful lessons into a cold, calculated strategy for survival and reclaim everything she is owed, please purchase the next section to continue reading.] 5 But I knew, from this moment on, my heart had completely changed. I would divorce him, but absolutely not now. Seven-year-old Lily ran up to me, tilting her head. “Mom, why are you crying?” I knelt down and pulled her into a tight hug, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent. I forced a smile. “It’s nothing, sweetie. Why don’t we go visit Grandpa?” The very first thing I did was take my father to the hospital for a chest CT scan. When the results came back, sure enough, there was an eight-millimeter nodule in his upper left lung. The doctor pointed at the screen. “The margins are slightly spidery, which isn’t a great sign. However, it’s still small enough to monitor. We could do a follow-up in six months.” Without a second of hesitation, I decided to have it surgically removed immediately. I called Joshua. Joshua had started out as a medical sales representative and had risen to regional director. He had an extensive network of medical contacts. Even though we were in the middle of a cold war, he was still trying to keep his perfect family at home while having a little fun on the side. If that was his game, why shouldn’t I use him? When he answered, I kept my explanation of my father’s condition brief and direct. Joshua didn’t hesitate. He immediately contacted the city’s top thoracic surgeon, securing a private room and a surgery date within the day. The surgery was a complete success. That night, Joshua even volunteered to stay by my father’s bedside to watch over him. When my father woke from the anesthesia and saw Joshua sitting there, his eyes grew misty. He took Joshua’s hand, then took mine, placing them together. His voice was weak but solemn. “Joshua is a good man, Gwen. You two need to live a good life together. Don’t let your stubborn pride get in the way.” I forced a smile and nodded. “I will, Dad.” But the moment I turned around to pour some warm water, the smile vanished from my face. Predictably, Joshua’s sudden devotion rubbed Caitlin the wrong way. After his night at the hospital, he claimed he had to travel for business and disappeared for several days. A week later, I picked Lily up from her violin lesson and stopped by a bakery. Just as I pushed the door open, I saw Joshua and Caitlin standing side by side at the counter. He was whispering something to her, a smile playing on his lips. Lily spotted him immediately. Like a little bird returning to its nest, she let go of my hand and ran toward him. “Daddy! You’re back from your business trip!” Joshua quickly bent down to scoop her up, taking a subtle half-step away from Caitlin. Caitlin’s lips tightened into a hard, irritated line. Lily wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes full of hope. “Can you read me a bedtime story tonight, Daddy? Please?” Just as Joshua was about to say yes, Caitlin cut in. Her voice was sweet, but there was an icy edge to it. “Director, don’t we have urgent matters to handle tonight? Have you forgotten?” She turned her head, her gaze locking onto mine. Her lips curved into a smug, sharp smile. Joshua stood frozen, holding our daughter, caught in the middle. I spoke first, my voice entirely flat. “Your work is more important. Lily, come here.” Lily pouted but obediently slid down from his arms and walked back to my side. Both Joshua and Caitlin looked surprised. Joshua looked guilty and bewildered, while Caitlin’s brief shock was quickly replaced by smug satisfaction. As they brushed past us, Caitlin deliberately bumped her shoulder against mine, her eyes filled with undisguised contempt. I gripped Lily’s hand tightly and didn’t look back. 6 Joshua came home early the next morning. His shirt collar was slightly open, revealing a fresh, dark red mark on his collarbone. Noticing my gaze, he uncomfortably adjusted his shirt to hide it, clearing his throat. “We need to talk,” he said. He sat on the sofa, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. “What are you thinking right now?” I leaned against the dining table, refusing to sit, looking down at him. “I should be asking you that. Saying those things in front of our daughter, do you even deserve to be called a father?” His face flushed red. “I already put her in her place last night,” he stammered in defense. “I promise it won’t happen again.” He stood up and tried to take my hand, but I stepped aside. His hand froze in midair before he awkwardly pulled it back. Sensing my coldness, he tried a different approach. “Gwen, Caitlin isn’t like you. She doesn’t want marriage or kids. She just wants a fun, carefree life. It won’t last between us. You know that in the end, it’s you and me. We’re the ones who will grow old together.” Seeing that I didn’t argue, he took it as a sign of progress and pressed on. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get five thousand dollars every month for household expenses. I’ll never let you or Lily go without.” Five thousand dollars. He said it so casually. Like a generous lord throwing scraps, using this money to buy my silence, to maintain the illusion of a perfect home while he did whatever he wanted outside. In the past, I would have found this utterly unacceptable. When did I, Gwen, ever trade my dignity for cash? But now, I simply kept my eyes lowered and remained silent. Taking my silence as consent, Joshua let out a long sigh of relief and patted my shoulder. “That’s my girl. I knew you’d understand.” I quietly clenched my fists, then slowly let them go. He sat back down and shifted the conversation to business. He and Caitlin had decided to resign from their jobs and start a medical device company together. He had the product channels and industry connections; Caitlin was a stellar sales manager with a decade of client relationships. With their powers combined, he boasted, the company was guaranteed to be a goldmine. Instead of reacting, I feigned hesitation. “I only know how to deal with lab data. I don’t understand your industry. But I do know that starting a business is risky, and I need to make sure my daughter is secure no matter what.” His expression tightened slightly. I continued, “So, I want all of our current family assets transferred under Lily’s name. She’s young, and knowing she has that security is the only way I can sleep at night.” Joshua barely hesitated before agreeing. He was calculating his own math. We had just bought our second property, so we didn’t have much liquid cash. Since I wasn’t demanding a divorce, and Lily was his biological daughter, putting the assets in her name meant they still belonged to a member of the family. He had absolutely no reason to refuse.

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1 The property management app flashed a notification while I was in a company meeting. “Renovation permit submitted for Apartment 1702, Building 3, Riverbend Towers. Applicant: Marcus Chen, Relationship to Owner: Spouse.” I read it three times. Marcus Chen. Spouse. I flipped through my marriage certificate. It bore my name, Alexander Liu. That was my name. I stared at that message for a long time. Apartment 1702, Building 3, Riverbend Towers. It was a place I’d bought before marriage. Paid in full. Two hundred thousand dollars. My parents contributed one hundred and twenty thousand, and I saved eighty thousand. Only my name was on the deed. A prenuptial agreement was signed before the wedding. After we married, the apartment had been rented out, bringing in four hundred and fifty dollars a month, directly deposited into my account. Six months ago, the lease expired. Charlotte told me she’d found new tenants for me. “Don’t worry, the people I found are reliable, five hundred a month.” I was quite pleased at the time, an extra fifty dollars. But now— New tenants? Or “spouse” Marcus Chen? I excused myself from the meeting room, found an empty corner, and dialed the property management. “Hello, I’m the owner of Apartment 1702, Building 3, Riverbend Towers. I’d like to inquire about a renovation permit.” The property manager said: “Oh, Mr. Chen submitted it last week. All documents were in order, and work has begun.” “What identity did Mr. Chen claim?” “He said he was the owner’s husband, renovating their matrimonial home.” Matrimonial home. My apartment, his matrimonial home. “How long has the renovation been going on?” “Three months now. Almost finished.” Three months. My apartment had been renovated by a stranger for three months, and I knew nothing about it. I hung up the phone. My hand wasn’t shaking. My heart pounded, but my mind was perfectly clear. I opened my banking app, checking Charlotte’s credit card statements. We’d linked a supplementary card when we got married; I could see the transactions. I scrolled back three months. Home Décor Emporium, $1,860. Furniture Haven, $3,200. Premium Tiles Inc., $2,750. Bespoke Interiors, $8,900. Transaction after transaction. All for building materials and furniture. In three months, twenty thousand dollars spent on the credit card. I scrolled further. Every month, there was a fixed transfer of $500, recipient: Marcus Chen. This transfer had started a year ago. A year. Five hundred dollars every month. I leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. Not anger. A very quiet coldness. Charlotte Thorne, my wife, was using my apartment to live with another man. She told me she’d found new tenants. The “tenant” was named Marcus Chen. She transferred him five hundred dollars every month. He was renovating my apartment, spending tens of thousands. To the property management, he claimed to be the “owner’s spouse.” I checked my contacts. Samuel ‘Sam’ Carter. My college roommate, now a divorce attorney. I sent him a message: “Free for dinner? My treat.” Three seconds later, he replied: “Your treat? Are you getting a divorce?” Lawyers’ instincts, sharp as ever. I didn’t reply. I needed to clarify one thing first. Who was Marcus Chen? 2 The name Marcus Chen felt familiar. I felt like I’d seen it somewhere. I searched Charlotte’s Messenger. It was password-protected. But I knew the password – her father’s birthday. Three years of marriage, she’d never changed it. I didn’t tap into it immediately. I first checked something else. I opened Instagram, searched “Riverbend Towers renovation.” The third post. Account name: “Marcus’s Cozy Corner.” The profile picture was a young man, perm-styled hair, slender face, fashionably dressed. The most recent post was yesterday. Title: “$50,000 to create my wife and my dream home renovation finally almost done!” Nine photos were attached. I scrolled through them, one by one. Full house hardwood flooring. Custom cabinetry. Central air conditioning. Smart toilet. Sintered stone dining table. The master bedroom had a floor-to-ceiling window. I recognized that window. Because it was my window. When I bought the apartment, I chose this layout specifically for that window. I screenshotted all nine photos. Then scrolled through his previous posts. Three months ago: “Day one of renovation, even the sound of demolition feels like happiness.” Two months ago: “Cabinets arrived! The style my wife chose, I’m in love.” A month ago: “Bathroom modified for wet and dry separation, that alone cost three thousand.” Each post had comments below it. “So happy! Your wife is so generous!” “Fifty thousand dollar renovation, what a splurge!” “Is this a new home? So spacious!” He replied: “Yes, my wife bought it before we got married, never renovated it. Now it’s finally coming together.” Wife bought it before marriage. I smiled. She told him the apartment was hers. Interesting. I scrolled further. To the earliest post. A year ago. “Moved into our new home today! It’s still a blank canvas, but with my wife, it’s home.” He had moved in a year ago. And Charlotte had told me she’d “found new tenants.” The tenant was him. The rent? That was the five hundred dollars she transferred him monthly. She was using my apartment to keep her lover, and telling me I was collecting rent. I screenshotted and saved all the posts. Then I zoomed in on his profile picture. Looking at that face. I had indeed seen it before. It took me ten seconds to recall where. Three years ago. The company’s annual gala. Charlotte brought a fresh graduate to me: “Honey, this is my new colleague, Marcus. He wants to get promoted, could you mentor him?” I treated him to two dinners. Helped him revise his resume. Recommended him to a department. He called me “Mr. Liu.” He said: “Mr. Liu, I’ll definitely repay you someday.” Now he had repaid me. With my apartment, he built his nest. I locked my phone. Closed my eyes. No tears. It wouldn’t help. I opened my eyes, unlocked my phone again, and tapped into Charlotte’s Messenger. I needed to know more. 3 The chat history was more extensive than I’d imagined. Charlotte had set Marcus Chen’s contact name to a sun emoji. I scrolled to the earliest records. Date—two years and three months ago. I did the math. That month, I suffered an acute appendicitis attack. That month, I fainted from pain and was rushed to the hospital. That month, I lay in the hospital bed, too weak to speak. Charlotte, that very month, confessed her feelings to Marcus. The chat history was crystal clear. “You know, from the first day I saw you, my heart skipped a beat.” Marcus replied: “But you’re married.” Charlotte said: “I have no feelings for him anymore.” Marcus: “Really?” Charlotte: “Really. Our marriage has been dead for a long time.” Dead for a long time. What was the date again? I checked the calendar. April 17th. On April 17th, I was still in the hospital. I vividly remembered that evening, alone in my hospital room, messaging Charlotte: “When are you coming?” She replied: “Working late, I’ll be there later.” She was working late. Confessing her feelings to Marcus Chen. I scrolled further. In May, I was discharged and went home. Still recuperating. Charlotte’s chat history showed her taking Marcus to a Japanese restaurant. In June, I had my first post-surgery inflammation, my stomach cramping so badly I couldn’t stand straight. Charlotte’s records showed them visiting Lakeview Resort. Marcus posted: “So happy, darling! Our first trip together.” Charlotte replied: “I’ll take you every year from now on.” That month, I asked Charlotte: “You look tanned?” She said: “Been out and about a lot for work recently.” I believed her. I kept scrolling. Two years and three months of chat history. Everything was there. Sweet nothings. Flirtation. Dates. And some pictures I never wanted to see again. I screenshotted and saved everything I needed. Then I saw a crucial conversation. It was six months ago. Marcus asked: “Darling, can I really live in that apartment?” Charlotte said: “Of course, I bought it before we got married, it’s in my name. Once I divorce him, it will be our home.” Marcus: “But won’t your husband have an issue?” Charlotte: “He doesn’t know. I told him it was rented out. Don’t worry, he’ll never know.” Marcus: “When do we start renovating?” Charlotte: “You handle it, you pay for it first, and I’ll pay you back everything once I’m divorced.” Marcus: “Okay, darling!” I looked at this conversation. She said the apartment was in her name. She said Marcus should pay for the renovation first. She said she’d repay him everything once she was divorced. Three sentences, three lies. The apartment was mine. She had no intention of repaying him. Divorce? She planned to leave me with nothing. I put down my phone. I had spent three years with this person. She cheated on me the month I had surgery. She used my apartment to house her lover. She tricked her lover into paying for renovations. She planned to leave me penniless. I picked up my phone again, continuing to scroll. I needed to know what else she had done. 4 I spent an entire night going through our finances. Charlotte thought I was clueless about money. Because ever since we got married, I never managed her salary account. What she didn’t know was that I had a finance background. I just didn’t manage it. That didn’t mean I couldn’t. I opened our joint account. This account was opened after we married, with both our salaries deposited into it. Balance: $1,420. I gasped. Last month, our combined salaries were $3,500. Where was the money? I pulled up the transaction history for the past year. Transaction by transaction. Every month, Charlotte consistently transferred money to an account ending in 4477. The amounts varied. One thousand, two thousand, once even thirty-five hundred. Over the year, forty-three thousand dollars had been transferred. Forty-three thousand dollars. I continued my investigation. Whose account was the one ending in 4477? I found it in Charlotte’s phone’s transfer records. Account name: Charlotte Thorne. She had opened an account I didn’t know about. Systematically transferred our joint savings out, piece by piece. I found another transfer. Eight months ago, eighteen thousand dollars transferred from the 4477 account. Memo: Car payment. I remembered. Marcus Chen’s Instagram had a post: “Birthday gift from my wife.” A white Honda Civic. Eighteen thousand dollars. From our joint savings. Registered in Marcus Chen’s name. I printed screenshots of all the transactions. $43,000 transferred. $18,000 for a car. $500 monthly transfers to Marcus Chen. Credit card renovation expenses of $23,000. Plus what Marcus Chen himself had covered— Approximately $90,000 in total. In these three years, she had stolen nearly $90,000 from our marriage. I sat at my desk, the computer screen light illuminating my face. Charlotte was watching TV in the living room. She didn’t know I was checking the accounts. She thought I was working overtime. She thought I knew nothing. She thought everything was under control. “Honey, I’ve washed some apples. Do you want one?” She called from the living room. Her voice was normal. Just like always. I closed my laptop and walked out. “Sure, thanks.” I took an apple. Took a bite. Sweet. She continued watching TV. I sat beside her, eating the apple she’d washed, looking at her profile. This face, while I was in the hospital, told another man, “I have no feelings for him anymore.” I finished the apple and smiled. “Honey, have you been busy lately? Lots of overtime?” “Yeah, lots of projects.” “That’s tough.” “It’s fine.” She didn’t even glance at me. I returned to my study. Opened my phone. Sent Sam a message. “Are you free tomorrow for lunch? I want a divorce. This time, I’m serious.” Sam replied instantly: “My treat tomorrow. Get your situation organized and bring it with you.” I started compiling. Property deed. Prenuptial agreement. Screenshots of infidelity chats. Social media screenshots. Bank statements. Transfer records. Marcus Chen’s delivery address. It totaled over forty pages. Printed, and placed into a file folder. I glanced at the time. 1 AM. The TV in the living room went silent. Charlotte walked over: “Not sleeping yet?” “Soon.” She left. I locked the file folder in a drawer. But I didn’t go to sleep right away. Because I was thinking about one thing. I could confront her now. But— Marcus Chen’s renovation wasn’t finished yet. On Instagram, he said, “Just the final touches of soft furnishings.” Just a little more. If I confronted her now, he would have spent forty thousand. If I waited until he finished everything, he would have spent fifty thousand. Wait half a month longer. Get an extra ten thousand. And— Sam had said: “Fixtures and fittings are part of the real estate; legally, they belong to the owner.” The more he put in, the more I would get. I turned off the light. Got into bed. Charlotte was already asleep, her back to me. I looked at her back. Just you wait. 5 The next day at noon, I handed Sam the file folder. He read it for half an hour. His expression shifted from calm to shocked, then to anger. Finally, he closed the folder and looked at me. “Alexander, your wife is truly ruthless.” I said nothing. He began to break it down for me, point by point. “First, the apartment. The Riverbend Towers unit, bought in full before marriage, solely in your name on the deed, and with a prenuptial agreement. This is your personal property, she has no claim to a single cent of it.” “I know.” “Second, Marcus Chen’s renovations. Legally, permanent fixtures – flooring, ceilings, custom cabinets, built-in appliances – are considered part of the real estate, and transfer with the property. In other words, what he installed in your apartment, is yours.” “He can’t take it?” “Custom cabinets are bolted to the walls, floors are laid down. How would he take them? Dismantle them? They wouldn’t be worth anything once disassembled.” I nodded. “Third, community property. The forty-three thousand dollars she transferred out is considered embezzlement of marital assets. You can claim full recovery during the divorce.” “What about the car?” “She used community property to buy a car for a third party. This can be used as evidence of fault. When the court rules on the divorce, with evidence of infidelity and asset transfer, you can claim a larger share.” Sam looked at me. “Your situation now is – you have the apartment, the evidence, the law. She has nothing.” I said: “I know.” “So, what are you planning to do?” I said: “Wait until he finishes the renovation.” Sam paused, then he smiled. “You’re going to wait for him to spend all fifty thousand, then take possession?” “He’s almost finished. Just the last bit of soft furnishings.” “Wait for the soft furnishings too?” “Yes.” Sam looked at me, then laughed aloud. “Alexander, you’re tougher than I thought.” I said: “It’s not that I’m tough. He’s renovating my apartment. I’m just waiting for him to finish.” Sam thought for a moment, then seriously said: “Legally, there’s no issue. You are the owner; he renovated your property without your consent. You have the right to reclaim the apartment at any time. His renovation losses, he can seek compensation from Charlotte. It has nothing to do with you.” “Good.” “I’ll prepare all the legal documents for you. Lawyer’s letter, divorce petition, asset preservation application. Ready to use at any time.” “No rush for now.” “Wait for him to finish?” “Wait for him to finish.” We clinked glasses. Sam said: “This meal is on me.” I said: “The next one’s on me. In that newly renovated apartment.” Sam chuckled. For the next two weeks, I did nothing. Normal work. Normal home. Normal meals, TV, and conversations with Charlotte. When she said she was working late, I told her to take care of herself. When she said she was on a business trip, I told her to be careful on the road. What she didn’t know was— Every transfer she made, I recorded. Every Instagram post from Marcus, I saw. Every legal document, Sam prepared. All I had to do was wait. Wait for that fifty thousand dollars to be completely spent. 6 In those two weeks of waiting, I did a few things. First, I contacted a locksmith. I found a certified locksmith company online. “I need a new smart lock installed.” “Okay, when?” “I’ll let you know.” Second, I visited the notary’s office. I had an additional notarization done for the property deed, confirming that the property had no rental or usage authorization whatsoever. The notary asked me: “What are you trying to prevent?” I said: “Preventing someone from claiming I consented to their occupancy.” Third, I went to the bank and froze the joint account. Sam helped me apply to the court for asset preservation. Charlotte’s account ending in 4477, and her credit cards, were all frozen. She didn’t know yet. By the time she found out, it would be too late. Fourth, I found Marcus Chen’s online loan records. Sam helped me with this. Marcus Chen was 27, a clerk at Charlotte’s company. Monthly salary: six hundred dollars. Fifty thousand dollars for renovations, where did he get the money? The answer was – online loans. Three platforms. He’d borrowed thirty-two thousand dollars in total. The remaining eighteen thousand, he’d put on four credit cards. A young man earning six hundred dollars a month, burdened with fifty thousand dollars in debt, renovating an apartment that wasn’t his. Because Charlotte told him: “This is my apartment. Once I’m divorced, I’ll put it in your name. I’ll pay you back all the money.” He believed her. Looking at these figures, I actually felt a fleeting moment of pity for him. But only for a second. Because I remembered a passage from the chat logs. Marcus asked Charlotte: “Will your husband find out?” Charlotte said: “No. He’s a workaholic, doesn’t pay attention to anything.” Marcus replied with a laughing emoji, then said: “Right, he’s the type who just works all day, never bothers with romantic surprises, no wonder you…” I didn’t finish reading the rest. Pity? Forget it. Let everyone face their own consequences. Fifth. I sent Charlotte a message. “Honey, I’m on a business trip next week, Monday to Friday, to Seattle.” She replied: “Okay, be safe.” Three seconds later, another message: “Good timing, I’m busy this week too, you don’t have to worry about the house.” Don’t have to worry about the house. Are you afraid of me coming back? I smiled. The “business trip” was, of course, a lie. I needed to give them time. For Marcus to finish the last of the soft furnishings. During those “business trip” days, I kept an eye on Marcus Chen’s Instagram. Tuesday: “The sofa arrived! Real leather! My wife said only the best.” I looked up the sofa in the photo. Three thousand eight hundred dollars. Wednesday: “Curtains are up, the blackout effect is amazing!” Thursday: “Last item – a decorative painting. Hung it on the living room wall.” In the photo, Marcus stood in front of the painting, smiling broadly. Behind him was the brand-new living room. My living room. Friday, he posted his last update. Fifty thousand and eighty dollars. I screenshotted it. Then made three phone calls. First, the locksmith: “Monday morning works?” “Yes.” Second, Sam: “Are the documents ready?” “Long ready.” Third, Riverbend Towers property management: “Hello, I’m Alexander Liu, owner of Apartment 1702, Building 3. Would it be convenient for you to assist me with something tomorrow morning?” “What is it?” “Reclaiming my apartment.” I put down my phone. Outside the window were the lights of Seattle. In reality, I hadn’t gone anywhere. I stayed in a hotel for five days. Alone. But not lonely. Because I knew, starting tomorrow, everything would be different. Fifty thousand and eighty dollars. Marcus Chen, thank you for renovating for me. 7 Monday morning at 8:30 AM. I stood at the base of Riverbend Towers. Beside me stood Sam, the locksmith, and the property manager I had arranged to meet. Sam was in a suit, holding a black folder. The locksmith carried his toolbox. The property manager seemed a little nervous: “Mr. Liu, are you sure about today?” “Absolutely.” “But there are people living inside.” “I know.” I patted the folder. “This contains the original property deed, the prenuptial agreement, and the supplementary notarization. This apartment is 100% mine. The people living inside do not have my authorization.” The property manager nodded: “Then we will cooperate.” We took the elevator up. Reached the 17th floor. Walked to the door of 1702. The door had a newly installed smart lock. Keypad lock. Fingerprint lock. Marcus had changed it. I took a deep breath. Then, knocked. Once. Twice. Footsteps sounded inside. The door opened. Marcus Chen stood there in home clothes, his hair disheveled, his face showing the weariness of just waking up. He saw me and froze. Three seconds. Then his eyes slowly widened. “Mr… Mr. Liu?”

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1 While my boyfriend was asleep, I noticed his phone screen lighting up with a relentless stream of notifications. Curiosity got the better of me. When I tapped the screen, I saw he was replying to a popular prompt on a local Q&A forum: How far can a person go for someone they can’t have? “I’ve loved my childhood best friend for twelve years,” his response read, “but I’m currently dating a girl I don’t love at all.” “My childhood friend is in love with someone else, her own personal ‘one that got away.’ To help her secure her happy ending, I went out of my way to pursue his crush, who happens to be my current girlfriend. I did it to clear the competition for her.” “Now, my childhood friend is practically engaged to her dream guy. As for me? Well, since I can’t have the girl of my dreams, it doesn’t really matter who I’m with. It’s all the same to me.” My hands began to shake. The realization hit me like a physical blow: I was the unloved girlfriend. The phone slipped from my trembling fingers, landing softly on the mattress. Ashton didn’t wake up, but he instinctively rolled closer to me, his arm draping over my waist. “Rowan…” he muttered in his sleep, his voice thick and affectionate. If this had happened yesterday, I would have found his sleeping gesture incredibly sweet, a sign of his deep devotion. Now, it felt sickeningly absurd. I knew exactly who his childhood friend was. Gemma. She was currently dating Wesley, a popular senior from our university. I had met Gemma once or twice. Whenever Ashton spoke of her, he insisted she was just a dear friend from his neighborhood. Asfor Wesley, he had actually confessed his feelings to me back in college. I barely knew him, so I had politely declined. When Gemma and Wesley eventually got together, I assumed it was a sweet stroke of fate. I had even sent them my warmest congratulations. But there was no fate. It was a calculated game designed by Ashton, and I was just an insignificant pawn on his chessboard. Taking a shaky breath, I unlocked his phone again and kept scrolling through the post. It was a detailed, public diary of his unrequited love for Gemma. “I’ve known I loved her since I was ten, but her eyes were always fixed on someone else.” “Of course, it killed me to see her with another guy. But I couldn’t bear to see her unhappy either, so I chose to make her dreams come true.” “When she confessed to Wesley and got rejected, she locked herself in her room and cried for three straight days. I was absolutely furious. I hated Wesley for rejecting her, but more than that, I hated my current girlfriend. Why did she get to effortlessly capture the attention of the guy Gemma wanted?” “So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I targeted my current girlfriend, planned to date her for a year, and then dump her.” The strange, unreadable looks Ashton used to give me suddenly made sense. Yet, he had treated me so well, with such tender care, that I never had a reason to doubt him. Our one-year anniversary was next week. I had spent the last month excitedly planning a special weekend for us, hoping to surprise him. I never could have imagined our entire relationship was a lie. A calculated act of revenge. The comment section of his post was a battleground. “Have some self-respect. How could you possibly post this publicly?” “What did your girlfriend do to deserve a toxic jerk like you? Let her go.” But a few took his side. “He hasn’t cheated on her, and he treats her well. Why is everyone calling him toxic?” “Am I the only one wondering how he managed to sweep his girlfriend off her feet so easily, while failing with his childhood friend for twelve years?” Ashton had replied to that comment: “You have to walk on eggshells around the person you actually love, terrified of saying the wrong thing. But with my girlfriend? She’s just a game where I calculated her stats. A few carefully placed strategies, and she was mine. It was incredibly easy.” 2 “If anyone’s curious, I can share some of the specific tactics I used.” The comments section practically begged for details. Ashton obliged, typing out his next response: “It’s simple. You just have to figure out what she’s lacking most.” “Before I made my move, I spent weeks researching her background. My girlfriend was raised by a single mother in a low-income household. She’s desperately insecure.” “She had plenty of guys pursuing her at school, but most of them looked down on her because of her financial situation. They acted entitled, which built a wall around her heart.” “So, I made sure to appear in a space she felt safe in. Naturally, she let her guard down.” My mind flashed back to how we met. It was at the after-school tutoring center where I worked part-time. Coming from a poor family, I knew how hard my mother worked to raise me. Once I got to university, I took on multiple jobs to ease her financial burden. That was where I met Ashton, who had also signed up as a part-time tutor. After we started dating, I discovered his family was actually quite wealthy. When I asked why he had taken a tutoring job, he had smiled warmly. “My parents always taught me the value of a dollar,” he had said, brushing a stray hair from my face. “I wanted to experience making my own way.” Now, his post laid bare the truth: “Who would actually work a miserable tutoring job if they didn’t have to? But she bought the story hook, line, and sinker. So naive.” “But a job wasn’t enough. To truly win over someone insecure, you have to save them when they’re most vulnerable.” “My girlfriend had decent grades, but she was right on the cusp of losing the fast-track master’s fellowship. Her best friend was ranked just one spot ahead of her, holding the final slot.” “I happened to find out that her best friend had hired a proxy to run her mandatory fitness assessment varsity test. So, I submitted an anonymous tip to the dean. The friend was disqualified, and my girlfriend automatically got the fellowship.” “Even though the report was anonymous, my girlfriend was the direct beneficiary. Naturally, everyone assumed she was the whistleblower.” “I played dumb, but during casual conversations with classmates, I casually mentioned that my girlfriend was no longer looking for jobs because she had ‘new plans.’ That sealed it. Everyone was convinced she had betrayed her best friend.” The comments flared up again. “This is disgusting. How do you sleep at night?” “Honestly, I don’t see the issue. The girlfriend got the fellowship, didn’t she? Who cares about a college friend? Besides, if the friend hadn’t cheated on her test, she wouldn’t have gotten reported.” “I feel terrible for the friend. She lost her future over some guy’s sick game.” My chest tightened, a sharp, suffocating pain pressing down on my lungs. The memory of that semester was the most painful period of my college life. It had ruined any happy memories I had of university. My best friend was Tess. We had been roommates, sharing meals, studying together, complaining about the dining hall food. We were inseparable. Tess always had slightly better grades, and I had never once begrudged her for it. When the fellowship nomination was handed to me, I thought it was a miracle. But that miracle quickly turned into a nightmare of whispers and cold shoulders. Tess’s trust in me shattered under the weight of the rumors. Eventually, we stopped speaking entirely. I tried to explain myself countless times, but whenever we crossed paths on campus, she would walk right past me as if I were a ghost. When we graduated, I learned she had failed her graduate school entrance exams and went straight into a low-paying job. The guilt was so overwhelming that I had seriously contemplated dropping out of the master’s program. And during that dark, lonely period, Ashton was the only one by my side. While everyone else pointed fingers, he looked me in the eye and told me he believed in me. He assured me I had done nothing wrong. Of course he knew I was innocent. He was the one who had orchestrated the entire thing. I had been so profoundly grateful back then. Our bond deepened, and I bared my soul to him, finding solace in his constant comfort. But his true thoughts were dripping with contempt: “Honestly, she should be thanking me for getting her that fellowship. Instead, she walked around looking like a martyr. Who was she trying to impress?” “If I hadn’t helped her, what would she be doing now? Struggling to find a job and relying on me to feed her?” 3 One commenter asked: “But what does that have to do with making her fall for you? She didn’t fall in love with you just because her friend hated her.” Ashton replied: “You’re right. She was so consumed by guilt that she didn’t even realize I was pursuing her.” “And more importantly, my main goal was to get Wesley to lose interest in her. But even with her reputation ruined, the guy still wouldn’t let her go.” “So, I had to try a different tactic.” “Wesley’s mistake was being too cautious. He was terrified of making a wrong move, just like I was with Gemma. But that’s what happens when a guy actually cares about a girl.” “He kept trying to send her anonymous gifts to cheer her up, but I made sure to intercept every single one of them.” I had never received a single gift from Wesley. Ashton’s post continued: “But intercepting packages wasn’t enough. I needed Wesley to be utterly disgusted by her.” “My girlfriend couldn’t handle the silent treatment from her roommates anymore, so she decided to move off-campus. To afford rent, she took on a high-paying private tutoring gig.” “The family she tutored for was incredibly wealthy. They loved her, and they even had their private chauffeur pick her up from the campus gates every evening.” “I didn’t have to do much. I just made sure to walk past the gates with my fraternity brothers whenever the luxury car arrived, letting everyone watch her climb inside.” “A poor girl suddenly moving out of the dorms and getting picked up in a luxury sedan? It didn’t take much for rumors to start.” “That night, I posted anonymously on the campus forum. Within hours, the gossip caught fire. Everyone was saying she was some rich guy’s sugar baby.” “She already had a bad reputation from the whistleblower rumor, and now she was labeled a gold-digger. She was completely isolated.” I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white, fighting back the urge to throw up. As graduation approached, I had hoped to leave the whispers behind. Instead, the bullying only intensified. Everywhere I went, people stared and whispered. In the cafeteria, students would actively get up and move away if I sat near them. When it came time to form groups for our final capstone project, every single classmate avoided me. I was left standing alone, a pariah. Only Ashton stood by me. At first, I had tried to defend myself. I wrote post after post on the school forum, begging people to listen to the truth. But every single thread I created was deleted within minutes. I realize now that Ashton was one of the senior moderators of the campus forum. Controlling the narrative was child’s play to him. The guys who had once pursued me turned on me instantly, posting vile, misogynistic slurs on the forum. They claimed I was a tease, a fraud, and that anyone could sleep with me if they had enough cash. A few days later, a new post went viral, titled: Stop Harassing My Girlfriend. It was written by Ashton. He claimed the luxury car belonged to his family, and that he was the one who had rented the off-campus apartment for me because we were dating. To me, he had presented himself as a savior, claiming he only wanted to protect me because he was deeply in love with me. In that state of terror and isolation, the psychological toll of the suspension bridge effect took hold. I fell completely, hopelessly in love with him. I believed he was my white knight. I had no idea he was the dragon who had set my world on fire. “And just like that,” Ashton wrote boastfully, “I got the girl, and I successfully crushed any lingering feelings Wesley had for her. Easy as pie.” “Wesley was devastated, which gave Gemma the perfect opportunity to comfort him. Now they’re planning their honeymoon.” The tone of the comments had shifted. The initial disgust was replaced by a twisted sense of admiration. “Honestly, the guy is a mastermind. He targeted her exact psychological weaknesses.” “No wonder she fell for him. It’s a bit toxic, but you have to admit, his execution was flawless.” “But are you really that selfless? Doesn’t it kill you to watch your childhood friend marry another guy?” Ashton replied: “As long as she’s happy, it doesn’t matter who she’s with.” “Our one-year anniversary is in a few days. She still doesn’t suspect a thing. But I think this little game has run its course. It’s time to end it.” Outside, the rain began to patter against the windowpane, a slow, rhythmic drumming. Ashton slept peacefully beside me, his hand still holding mine. It was a habit of his; he loved physical touch, always clinging to me whenever we were together. Now, looking at his handsome, sleeping face, I couldn’t tell which of his touches had been real and which had been part of his calculated script. I opened my own phone, clicking on an email from my academic advisor. “Rowan, the department has an open slot for a one-year exchange program at a prestigious university in London. The deadline is tomorrow. This is a life-changing opportunity for your research. Please consider it and let me know.” I had drafted a polite refusal, worried about leaving Ashton behind, terrified of what a year of long-distance would do to our relationship. I deleted the draft. I typed a new, single sentence. “Professor, I want to go to London. Is the spot still open?”

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1 Right before we sailed, Jackson unbuckled my life jacket himself. “Your sister’s right,” he said flatly. “Without a push, you’ll never surf like her.” He turned away, steadying Fiona on the yacht without a glance back. A massive swell dragged me under. Choking on saltwater, I saw Fiona above, filming my struggle while leaning into Jackson. He barely sighed. “Swim this thousand meters, Nora, and I’ll get you into the club!” For fifteen years, I’d played the obedient shadow. I hiked mountains in heels until I bled, dove into frozen ponds for Fiona’s earrings until I nearly died. I thought obedience bought belonging. I was wrong. I was just their toy. Another wave crushed me, and I stopped fighting. I sank. When they hauled me aboard, Fiona pouted. “Jackson was going to praise you. No stamina.” I shoved them back, coughing brine, and met their eyes with hollow calm. “From now on, I do nothing you ask.” That plunge into the ocean left me with a hundred and four degree fever and severe pneumonia. But Fiona wasn’t done having fun. So, my family abandoned the yacht and boarded a luxury cruise liner just to keep her happy, leaving me to curl up in a tiny cabin on the lower deck. Every single breath felt like broken glass scraping my lungs. Jackson didn’t come to check on me once. Instead, he just called. His voice on the line was colder than the sea. “Nora, haven’t you thrown enough of a tantrum? Fiona is having heart palpitations because she was traumatized watching you drown. Even if you want attention, you don’t need to play the victim like this. Go apologize to her. If you do, I’ll overlook the attitude you gave us on the deck this afternoon.” I opened my mouth to speak, but my stomach violently churned. I hung up on him. To Jackson and Fiona, this was just me acting out. After all, they knew that if Jackson ignored me for a couple of days, I’d crawl back, begging for their approval. That evening, the cruise ship docked. Fiona suddenly got the urge to go night diving. But right after slipping into her wetsuit, she fainted on the deck. From the small porthole of my cabin, I watched Jackson sprint to her side. He scooped her up in his arms, his face pale with a raw, desperate panic I had never once seen him direct at me. I looked down at the simple band on my ring finger, the one bought for our upcoming engagement. Slowly, I slid it off. I tossed it straight out the window, watching it vanish into the dark, churning ocean. Jackson caught the movement. Through the glass, our eyes met, and his expression instantly darkened. Just then, my parents walked into my cabin carrying a cup of hot water. Seeing my flushed, feverish face, my mother’s eyes welled with tears. “Nora, sweetie, drink some water.” I took a single sip, but before the warmth could hit my stomach, a crew member rushed to the door. “Ma’am! The oldest daughter still hasn’t regained consciousness!” The concern on my mother’s face vanished instantly. She bolted upright, knocking the cup from my hands. The boiling water splashed over the back of my hand, leaving a painful, blistering red patch, but she didn’t even notice. She and my father practically ran over each other to get to Fiona’s luxury suite. The spilled water grew cold on the floor, just like my heart. Half an hour later, just as I was drifting into a feverish sleep, my mother returned. She had two staff members drag me to Fiona’s bedside. “Nora,” she whispered, her voice pleading. “Fiona isn’t waking up. The doctor says her chronic anemia is flaring up again. You have such a strong constitution. Let them take some blood for her.” I lay there, shivering violently. I wanted to scream that I had just been dragged from the sea, that my lungs were burning with pneumonia, but I didn’t even have the strength to stand. Before I could say a word, a thick needle pierced my vein. Jackson stood by the head of Fiona’s bed, holding her hand tightly. He didn’t look at me once. By the time they finished, the world was spinning. I had to lean against the cold metal walls of the corridor just to stumble back to my room. A buzz from my phone broke the silence. It was a text from Jackson: Good to see you have a conscience, Nora. I’ll have breakfast with you tomorrow morning. A bitter laugh escaped my throat. I was about to turn off my phone when a social media notification popped up. Fiona had just posted a photo. It was a shot of Jackson asleep, his head resting by her bedside, their fingers tightly intertwined. Her caption read: Even if the ocean lies ahead, as long as you’re by my side, I fear nothing. I stared at that photo for a long time, until my eyes burned and there were no tears left to cry. 2 The day we finally docked coincided with my twentieth birthday. For dinner that night, I put on a dress I had been saving for a special occasion. It was a gorgeous, deep blue piece patterned with stars and oceans, a gift Jackson had given me last month. I had just sat down when Jackson walked in with Fiona. Her eyes locked onto my dress instantly. Redness crept into her eyes, and her voice trembled with unshed tears. “That dress is so beautiful. Because of my anemia, I never got to go to parties growing up. I wish I could wear something that pretty just once.” Without a second thought, Jackson turned to me, his voice sharp and demanding. “Nora, go change out of that dress.” I stood frozen, my fingers clutching the fabric of the skirt. “Jackson, did you forget what today is?” He frowned, clearly annoyed by my questioning. “It doesn’t matter what day it is. What’s wrong with dressing down for once? My feelings for you don’t need to be proven by a piece of clothing.” My feelings for you. He had used that exact phrase to pressure me into giving up my scholarship spot for Fiona, and to force me to walk through a torrential downpour to buy her favorite cake. Now, he was using it to strip me of my birthday dress. I didn’t argue. I silently turned around, walked upstairs, and changed into a faded, washed out t-shirt. When I returned, the dining table was covered in platters of lobster and crab, all of Fiona’s favorite seafood. Everyone in the room knew I was severely allergic to shellfish. My mother lovingly placed a piece of crab meat into Fiona’s bowl, then looked at me with a soft, dismissive smile. “I know you’re allergic, Nora, but we’re celebrating your sister’s recovery today. I hope you don’t mind. Since it’s your birthday, I’ll have the maid whip up your favorite egg noodles later.” I sat at the edge of the table, a hollow laugh caught in my chest. I actually hated egg noodles. But my mother had never bothered to remember what I liked. For as long as I could remember, her mind only held Fiona’s preferences. Whenever she needed to appease me, she’d throw a bowl of plain noodles my way. Jackson blinked, realizing it was my birthday, but he quickly shrugged it off and dropped a piece of shrimp into my bowl. “You know, Nora, the only way to beat an allergy is exposure. You’re just being dramatic. Your sister literally overcame her fear of the water, and you can’t even eat a piece of shrimp?” I didn’t say a word. I picked up the shrimp and forced myself to swallow it. Within twenty minutes, hives erupted across my arms, and my chest began to tighten. Seeing my struggle, Fiona smirked and made an announcement. “I’ve decided to take Nora’s spot in the ocean rescue diving assessment! She’s too cowardly anyway. She’d only embarrass herself.” I snapped my head up, gasping for air. “I’ve spent two years training for this exam! You don’t even know the basics of diving, Fiona. Why are you doing this?” Before I could finish, Jackson cut me off. “Nora, your sister is finally showing an interest in something. Just let her have the slot. It’s just diving. If she struggles, I’ll personally train her.” I stared at Fiona’s smug grin. My mind flashed back to the last two years of waking up at dawn, pushing my body to the limit in empty pools, yet Jackson had never once offered to help me. I stood up, walked out of the room, and went to find my allergy medication. But when I came back down, I overheard Jackson on the phone with his assistant. “Modify Nora’s custom gear to fit Fiona,” Jackson was saying, his tone businesslike. “The carbon fiber, pressure resistant suit. It’s too late to order a new one, and with Fiona’s delicate health, I’ll only feel safe if she’s wearing the best. As for Nora, just swap hers with a standard rental set. She’s only going there for show anyway.” 3 I stood frozen in the hallway, listening to him casually strip away the safety gear that was meant to protect my life, all to give it to someone else. I pressed a hand over my mouth, laughing silently until tears ran down my fingers. Over the next few days, I kept up my training. I had to pass that deep dive assessment. It was my only ticket into the national marine rescue team. The day before the exam, I went to the study to retrieve my medical clearance forms. The door was slightly ajar, and a voice drifted out. Fiona was whining to our mother. “Mom, do you and Dad love Nora more? She’s so healthy and strong, while I’m just a fragile burden.” My mother sighed, her voice dripping with affection. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t talk like that. If she didn’t share your rare Rh negative blood type, why on earth would we have adopted her in the first place? It was all so we’d have a walking blood bank for you.” “We’ve raised her for over a decade, so of course there’s some basic pity there,” my mother continued. “But in our hearts, you are our only true child. She is just a backup reservoir. She could never compare to you.” A loud ringing filled my ears. My mind went entirely blank, cold dread pooling in my chest. All those years of begging for their love, of running myself ragged just to see them smile, and to them, I was nothing but a walking meat bag of blood. No wonder they rolled up my sleeves every time Fiona so much as coughed, ignoring my fevers, my illnesses, my exhaustion. I shook violently, tears spilling over my cheeks. As I turned to flee, I collided straight into Jackson. He took one look at my tear streaked face and scowled. “Nora, what is it now? It’s just a spot in a diving club. Is it really worth crying like someone died? We’re getting engaged next week. Can’t you grow up and be a little more understanding?” It hit me then with brutal clarity. In his eyes, everything I did was a childish tantrum. I ripped my arm out of his grasp, staring at the man I had loved in secret for a decade. “Jackson, did you ever actually love me?” My question only made him roll his eyes. “Nora, don’t suffocate me with this emotional nonsense.” He walked right past me, heading into the study. I watched his back recede, my eyes cold and clear. He didn’t know that I had already canceled the makeup artist and the dress fittings for our engagement. Since they had no use for me outside of my veins, I had no use for them either. A few days later came the day of the diving assessment, which was also the eve of my scheduled engagement to Jackson. Fiona, furious that I had refused to voluntarily withdraw from the test, lured me down to the lower deck of the family yacht under the pretense of returning my custom gear. Jackson, as always, had looked the other way. “Take some time to think about your attitude, Nora,” Fiona sneered from the other side of the heavy steel door. The lock clicked shut with a definitive snap. “I’ll let you out once the assessment is over.” The hold was pitch black, smelling of rust and heavy engine grease. In the past, I would have panicked, crying and begging them to open the door. But now, I simply found a dry corner and sat down. I pulled out my phone and opened my email inbox. There was a message waiting for me, an official invitation from the International Marine Rescue Federation. They were offering me a position on an active duty rescue crew in high risk international waters. If I accepted, I would be deployed immediately to their base off the coast of Somalia. For the next five years, I would be effectively off the grid. I stared at the flashing red confirmation button on the screen, and without a shred of hesitation, I tapped it. 4 By the time they let me out the next day, the exam was long over. They knew I had missed my chance to ever join the domestic diving league. Jackson walked up to me, reaching out to brush my cheek, but I flinched away. A flicker of irritation crossed his face. “Tomorrow is our engagement party, Nora. Behave yourself.” I kept quiet. He had no clue that tomorrow was also the day I boarded a one way flight out of the country. But back at the house, as I packed my bags, Fiona caught wind of something. She saw me sliding my passport and certifications into my backpack and assumed I was trying to sneak out for a makeup exam. Determined to keep her toy close, she walked to the top of the stairs, smashed a porcelain vase, and deliberately sliced her forearm open with a shard. “Ah! Blood!” Her scream threw the entire household into chaos. Outside the emergency room, my parents were frantic. My mother’s eyes were swollen from crying, and to my absolute shock, she fell to her knees right in front of me. “Nora! I’m begging you! Fiona lost too much blood, and the hospital’s rare stock is low. If you don’t save her, she’s going to die!” I looked down at her, feeling nothing but a deep, hollow exhaustion. Just days ago on that yacht, when I was burning up with a fever, they had used the exact same guilt trip to drain me. I took a step back, refusing her for the first time in my life. “I have something important tomorrow. I can’t give blood.” While the international rescue team didn’t require a physical exam on site, their pre deployment medical screening was incredibly strict. Heavy blood loss would red flag my chart immediately. Jackson lunged forward, grabbing my shoulder. “Nora! Do you even have a soul? That is your sister in there! If you don’t step up today, our engagement tomorrow is off!” He thought this threat would work, just like it had for the last ten years, that I would break down and beg him to stay. I looked at him one last time, gently but firmly removing his hand. I walked into the donor room on my own. I rolled up my sleeve and sat in the chair. “Take it,” I told the nurse. The thick needle slid into my vein, and dark red blood began to fill the plastic bag. By the time the bag hit six hundred milliliters, the nurse’s hand was shaking. “We have to stop! Any more and she’ll go into hypovolemic shock!” But outside the glass, Fiona was still whining about feeling faint. Jackson looked through the window, his voice cold and flat as he told the staff, “Keep drawing. She’s tough. She won’t die.” My body temperature plummeted, and suddenly, the heart monitor began to wail, signaling cardiovascular collapse. Doctors rushed in with epinephrine. Through the blur of my fading vision, I saw panic finally flash across Jackson’s face. I stared up at the harsh fluorescent lights, whispering in my mind: I’ve paid you back with my life. Now, keep your love. I don’t want it anymore. I woke up at three in the morning to an empty room. My parents and Jackson were all next door, celebrating Fiona’s recovery. Nobody remembered the daughter who had literally coded on the table to keep her sister breathing. I pulled the IV line from the back of my hand, slipped into my clothes, and walked out into the cold night. By the time my flight cleared the runway, heading toward East Africa, the sun was just beginning to rise. Two days went by. Jackson assumed I was just sulking and would crawl back to apologize like I always did. But when the hour of our engagement party arrived, my chair remained empty. Steaming with a week’s worth of suppressed anger, he drove to our house and kicked open the door to my attic room. He froze. The wardrobe was wide open, completely bare. The room was so sterile and clean it looked as though no one had ever lived there. On the wooden desk sat a neat stack of papers. Beside a pile of medical receipts for blood draws lay an official, notarized document dissolving my adoption, stamped with my ink pressed thumbprint. Jackson’s heart skipped a beat. The secret my parents had kept for twenty years; how long had I known? Panic finally clawed at his chest. He spun around, running out of the house, and dialed my number. But all he got was a cold, automated recording: “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

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When Ethan and I went Instagram official, all my friends messaged me to ask if I was being scammed. Ethan was the most notorious playboy in our circle, constantly surrounded by women. But to everyone’s surprise, after he got with me, he stopped seeing other girls. He even replaced all his female assistants with men. Everyone said Ethan and I were true love. Until our fifth anniversary, when he lost a game of Truth or Dare with his friends. One of them asked him: “You’ve been with Chloe for five years. Are you actually in love with her?” He took a drag of his cigarette and casually replied: “Out of all the girls I’ve had, she’s the most obedient. She does whatever I tell her to do, and she’s been doing it for years.” So, he was only with me because I was submissive. I didn’t storm in and make a scene. Instead, I sent a text to his third side-chick. At 11 PM, Ethan finally called me. “Come pick me up at the lounge downtown. I had a few drinks, can’t drive.” In the past, if he called, I would drop everything to get him. But now, I waited until I was in the middle of my skincare routine to reply, “Just call an Uber.” Half an hour later, Ethan called again, his voice irritated. “Are you coming or what? I’ve been waiting forever.” I sighed, changed my clothes, and went out anyway. Twenty minutes later, I took a taxi to the lounge downtown. Just as I was about to push the door open, I heard a burst of laughter from inside, mixed with guys cheering. “Come on, Ethan! You lost the game, you gotta pay up! You promised to call your girl to pick you up. Don’t back out now!” “Yeah, man, you lost everything last round. Calling your girl is the least you can do!” Then came Ethan’s voice, sounding a bit drunk and arrogant. “What’s the rush? I already called her. She’ll be here. She always does whatever I say.” “Damn, she’s that obedient? Lend her to us sometime then?” “Screw off! But seriously, she’s super sweet. She never makes a scene, no matter what I do.” I froze outside the door. So that was it. It wasn’t because he was too drunk, or because of some emergency. He had just lost a game of Truth or Dare and used me as a prop to show off. With a blank expression, I pulled out my phone, found Sienna’s Snapchat, and sent her a message: “Ethan is wasted at the downtown lounge. Come pick him up.” Then I turned around and walked back to the cab. Once I got home, I finished my skincare and opened my closet to pack my bags. My phone buzzed a few times. It was Ethan on Snapchat: “Where are you? Why aren’t you here yet?” “Never mind, don’t come. Sienna happened to be passing by, she’s driving me home.” I didn’t reply. A moment later, he sent another one: “Are you seriously mad? It was just a game. Don’t be dramatic.” Still no reply from me. The last message had a softer tone: “Fine, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll bring you a gift.” Looking at the message, I found it hilarious. If he had coaxed me like this before, my heart would have melted. I would have thought he at least cared. But now, I just wondered if he was laughing at how gullible I was while typing those words. I put my phone on silent, rolled over, and closed my eyes.

The next morning, Ethan dragged his suitcase in, his face dark. “I was out all night, and you didn’t even send me a single text?” I stopped drinking my water and looked at him blankly. Ethan took off his jacket impatiently. “Stop drinking that. I’m starving. Make me something to eat.” “I was at the club all night and didn’t eat a thing.” He turned to go to the bathroom, but I said flatly, “I don’t have time. Order DoorDash.” Ethan stopped in his tracks, knitting his brows, glaring at me with displeasure. “Chloe, have you had enough? I waited for you so long last night, and you didn’t even show up. You made me look like an idiot in front of my friends. Was it really that big of a deal?” I put down my glass and took it to the kitchen, having no desire to argue. His expression shifted, and he suddenly took a step forward, grabbing my wrist. “Alright, stop being mad. I’ll take you out for French food tonight. Haven’t you been dying to go to that fancy place?” His voice was low, carrying a commanding tone, as if he knew exactly how to manipulate my feelings. I pulled my hand back, rubbing my wrist subtly, and went to the door to put on my shoes. Ethan stared at me in disbelief. “Chloe, what the hell? Are you disgusted by me?” “No, I just don’t have an appetite.” Just as Ethan was about to lose his temper, I glanced at my phone. “I’m meeting a friend. I have to go.” “I’ll drive you.” “No need. I called an Uber.” Ethan’s face darkened. “I said I’ll drive you.” “Really, no need.” I opened the front door. “You just got back. Get some rest.” Ethan glared at me in silence. Without waiting for his response, I walked out. A loud crash echoed behind me. He had kicked the cabinet by the door.

I got into the car and gave the driver my office address. Just as the car pulled out of the neighborhood, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Sienna. No words, just a picture. It was a photo of a man sleeping peacefully on his side. In the background was a hotel’s floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city lights at night. I locked my phone, leaned back against the seat, and closed my eyes. A moment later, it buzzed again. Still Sienna: “Hey Chloe, Ethan said he slept great last night. He told me to thank you for letting him go.” I didn’t reply. She sent another one: “Oh, by the way, he said he’s coming over again tomorrow night. You don’t mind, right?” Still ignoring her, I deleted the chat history. As the car moved forward, the city streets blurred past the window. I thought about all the women who had come and gone around Ethan over the past five years. The first was his secretary at the firm. I caught them kissing in the breakroom. He claimed she initiated it and he was too drunk to react. I believed him. The second was a client he met on a business trip. She sent him her hotel room number late at night. He said it was just a joke and told me not to overreact. I believed him too. Now, it was the third one, Sienna. Every time he got caught, he would apologize, promise to change, buy me gifts, and behave for a while. But it wouldn’t be long before the next one appeared. I used to think he genuinely loved me and was just easily tempted. I thought that if I was good enough, patient enough, he would eventually settle down. But now, I finally understood. He wasn’t easily tempted; he was just a cheater at heart. Every “you’re the only one I love” was a lie to me, and to himself. I opened my eyes, looking out the window, feeling completely cold inside. About a mile from the office, I asked the driver to pull over. I wanted to walk the rest of the way. I was going to the office to resign. I had chosen to work in New York only because of Ethan. For him, I had rejected my family’s trust fund, had a massive fight with my parents, and cut off contact with them for a long time. I sat by the sidewalk for a long while before finally pulling out my phone and dialing a number I hadn’t called in years. The phone rang for a long time before my mom answered, her voice hesitant. “Chloe?” I took a deep breath. “Mom, I’ve thought it over. That marriage proposal you and Dad talked about… I accept.” There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, and then my mom’s voice cracked with emotion. “Good, good. I’ll go tell your father right now.” I hung up, and tears finally spilled over. The love I had fought so hard for was nothing but a joke. I agreed to the arranged marriage and booked a flight back home to Seattle for the day after tomorrow. As for my relationship with Ethan… This was the end of the line.

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I was clearing out the bottom of our closet when I found a piece of lingerie hidden beneath the winter clothes. I picked it up. It was a skimpy, black lace bunny cosplay outfit, complete with a fluffy white tail at the back. Ever since my wife, Chloe, gave birth, she had always rejected my advances, claiming her body hadn’t fully recovered yet. She would never buy something this wild and provocative. I was about to call her to ask about it when my phone buzzed with a text message from an unknown number. It was a photo. She was lying naked in the arms of her boss. I stared blankly at the explicit photo. The anger I was about to unleash instantly dissolved into a cold, dead silence. My heart felt completely numb. Yet, she was the one who ended up losing her temper. With tear-brimmed eyes, she yelled at me: “Do you not even care that I’m fooling around with another man anymore?!” ### 01 I was packing a few personal items to head to the hospital to look after Chloe’s father, Robert. While searching for some clean underwear, my hand caught on something else. I pulled out a black lace bunny outfit. The fluffy tail on the back was visibly worn and ruined. It felt like my entire world was collapsing. Ever since Chloe gave birth, we hadn’t slept in the same bed for almost a year and a half. Even back when our relationship was at its wildest, we had never used props like this. Clutching the skimpy piece of lace, the truth stared back at me in cold, hard reality: my wife was cheating on me. I pulled out my phone, a sudden fire burning in my chest. I wanted an explanation from Chloe. Right now. But the call rang for a few seconds before being abruptly hung up. I called again and again, but got the same result. Instead of picking up, she sent me a quick Snapchat message. — *I’m busy. Make it quick, don’t waste my time.* Robert had suffered a sudden stroke a month ago at home. I had been staying at the hospital, caring for him day and night. Chloe and I had agreed earlier today that she would bring some clean clothes to the hospital for me and visit her father. As his daughter, she hadn’t visited him once during his entire month-long hospitalization. It was getting ridiculous. She had promised she would come, but then texted me saying she had urgent work to finish at the office and could only make it after midnight. She told me to go home and get the clothes myself. I never expected to find such a “creative” surprise waiting for me. I was about to text her back to ask if she was even coming home tonight. Then, my phone dinged. A message from an unknown number popped up. I tapped it open, and my knees went weak. I almost fell to the floor. My heart felt like it was being ripped in two. It was an anonymous photo. The background was a messy bed in a hotel. Chloe’s boss had his arm wrapped tightly around her bare waist. They were in a position she and I had never tried. Staring at their faces, a cold chill ran down my spine. At that moment, Chloe successfully wiped out every single drop of love I had built up for her over the years. ### 02 I packed my things and went straight back to the hospital. Robert had always treated me like his own son. Sitting by his bedside, looking at his pale, aged face, I suddenly remembered when Chloe and I first got married. I had knelt before him, promising to cherish and love Chloe for the rest of my life. She, too, had promised to be faithful to me forever. We had made those vows in a beautiful church. But it didn’t take long for Chloe to forget them. She started working late every night, coming home smelling of expensive alcohol. Sometimes, there were even faint, unexplained red marks on her collarbone. When I asked her if she was falling out of love with me, or if she regretted our marriage, she would snap. She’d accuse me of not understanding her hard work, calling me insecure, clingy, and paranoid. “Time for the patient’s IV change,” a nurse said softly as she wheeled her cart in. I snapped out of my thoughts and stood up. I helped the nurse adjust Robert’s hospital gown. She smiled warmly at me. “You’re a good son. You’ve been here every day for over a month, haven’t you? What about your job?” I nodded with a faint smile. I was a freelance architectural designer. As long as I had my laptop and a quiet space, I could work from anywhere. I didn’t need to be tied to an office. “All done. Just make sure his arm doesn’t get wet.” “Thank you, nurse.” After she left, I wiped Robert down and changed his sheets. To pass the time, I chatted with him, sharing little stories about Chloe and me. I told him she missed him terribly and wanted to visit every day, but her new project at work was just too demanding. I told him that as soon as he woke up, she would be right here. I talked so much that my stomach started growling. When I looked at the clock, it was already 8:00 PM. I opened a food delivery app, but before I could order, my phone rang. It was Chloe. “Where are you?” she demanded, her voice dripping with irritation. I let out a bitter laugh. She had completely forgotten what we discussed yesterday. She didn’t even care that her own father was lying semi-conscious in a hospital bed. Of course. She was too busy enjoying her secret romance to care about either of us. “I’m at the hospital with your dad.” There was a long silence on the other end. After a few seconds, her tone softened slightly. “Oh… babe, I’m so sorry. Work has been absolutely crazy today. I’m on my way to the hospital now. Wait for me.” Thirty minutes later, Chloe walked into the room empty-handed. She frowned, refusing to step fully into the room, standing awkwardly near the door. “Come on in,” I said quietly, pouring her a cup of water. She waved her hand, rejecting it. She probably didn’t realize how much disgust was written all over her face, as if she was terrified of catching some hospital disease. “I really wanted to come earlier, but Julian said there was one last financial report to finish. It took hours.” “You have to understand, we’re not like you. We don’t have the luxury of sitting around all day worrying about trivial things.” In Chloe’s eyes, my staying at the hospital to care for her father was just “sitting around doing nothing.” Yet, throughout our marriage, I had never asked her for a single penny. I contributed to the household, and I was paying for all of Robert’s medical bills out of my own pocket. And she hadn’t even bothered to ask how her father was doing. She waved her hand in front of my face. “Hello? Space cadet?” When I didn’t answer, she frowned. “What’s wrong with you?” I shook my head. We had nothing left to say to each other. “Ethan! What is your problem? Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment now?” She suddenly snapped, knocking the cup of water out of my hand. “Say something! I swear I hate this dead-silent act of yours! It’s like talking to a brick wall every time I come home!” I used to be the guy who answered her every text within seconds. If she hadn’t shut me out cold so many times, would I have ended up like this? “What do you want me to say? I’m just tired, Chloe.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “You sit in a chair all day. How on earth can you be tired?” She looked completely done with the conversation. “Forget it. Talking to you is a waste of breath.” Silence fell over the room again, only to be broken by her phone ringing. I glanced down. Her screen lit up with the contact name: *My Husband* ❤️. But I was standing right in front of her. Noticing my gaze, Chloe quickly flipped her phone face down. “It’s… it’s not what you think,” she stammered, offering a weak, guilty explanation before I even asked. “It’s fine. I get it.” She stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. She seemed unsettled by my lack of reaction, as if she expected me to blow up. I lowered my head and went back to ordering food on my phone. Chloe stepped away to take the call. “Julian? Why are you calling at this hour? Is something wrong?” “Hey, Chloe. I just got a bottle of rare vintage red wine. I know your husband is into wine, and I was feeling a bit bored tonight. I’m actually right outside your apartment building. Mind if I come up for dinner?” Julian’s voice was smooth and polite through the speaker. Chloe looked at me, looking conflicted. I looked up and smiled calmly. “Tell him he’s welcome to join us. I’ll order some premium catering.” Chloe stared at me, completely stunned. It was the first time I had ever seen such shock on her face. I couldn’t blame her. In the past, I was incredibly possessive. Whenever she came home smelling of alcohol or Julian’s cologne, I would start a huge fight, begging her to keep her distance from him. And now, I was actively inviting her lover into our home. Old Ethan would have lost his mind. But when a heart dies, it doesn’t leave any ash. I knew this marriage was over. ### 03 I canceled the basic food delivery and ordered a premium catering service from *The Gilded Lily*, one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. By the time we got back to the apartment, the dining table was already set with gourmet dishes. Chloe looked at the spread in surprise. “What is all this?” Julian smiled warmly. “I figured you’d be too tired to cook after a long day at the office, so I had *The Gilded Lily* cater this dinner.” *The Gilded Lily* was famous for its months-long reservation list and astronomical prices. For Julian to get them to deliver a full spread on short notice meant he had spent a fortune. But what he didn’t know was that I did all the cooking in this house. Chloe hadn’t touched a frying pan in years. I looked at the gourmet food, then at the simple grocery bag in my hand. Fine by me. Less work for me. “Please, sit down,” Julian said, gesturing to the seats with the easy confidence of a man who owned the place. I felt like a guest in my own home. I sat opposite Julian, studying him. He was dressed in a tailored designer suit. I knew he and Chloe had met at an art gallery. They had both bid on the same painting and ended up talking for hours. After that, they started going to exhibitions together. When Julian decided to launch his own consulting firm, Chloe resigned from her stable job without a second thought to help him build his business from scratch. She accompanied him to late-night dinners and client meetings. And she left her newlywed husband waiting alone in an empty house. I ate in silence, my face expressionless. Chloe reached under the table, tugging at my shirt, and whispered sharply in my ear, “Julian went to all this trouble for us. The least you could do is show some gratitude instead of sitting there with a miserable face.” “What do you want me to do? Throw myself into his arms?” My voice was ice-cold. Chloe’s face turned pale. She grabbed my arm and dragged me into the kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed my lips, trying to coax me. It had been eighteen months since she last initiated any physical contact with me. And now, she was kissing me just to get me to behave in front of her lover. How pathetic. “If you behave tonight, I’ll give you a proper reward later…” She took my hand and pressed it against her chest, letting me feel her soft warmth through her thin blouse. In the past, I would have agreed to anything just for a touch of her affection. But now? I felt absolutely nothing. “I have to go back to the hospital to watch over your dad tonight,” I said, pulling my hand away. Chloe’s face went completely white. She pushed past me and walked back to the living room, putting on a fake smile. Watching her walk away, her hips swaying provocatively, I realized she really did think Julian was the better option. He was a successful CEO with millions in assets. I, on the other hand, was just a freelancer with no wealthy family background, no corporate title, and in her eyes, no future. “I hope the food is to your husband’s liking,” Julian said smoothly. I glanced at the dishes. They were mostly spicy, heavy foods—exactly what Chloe loved, but terrible for my sensitive stomach. For years, I had forced myself to eat what she liked just to keep her happy. “Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s not picky. A simple guy like him doesn’t get to eat Michelin-star food every day anyway,” Chloe said dismissively. “If it weren’t for you, Julian, he’d probably go his whole life without tasting food from *The Gilded Lily*.” She demeaned me in front of her lover without a single shred of hesitation. I just kept eating, keeping my head down. It wasn’t the first time she had insulted me, and it wouldn’t be the last. I didn’t care anymore. But my silence only made her angrier. Under the table, she kicked my leg. “Are you starving or something? Have some manners! Julian is our guest. Pour him some wine instead of just stuffing your face!” she muttered sharply. I ignored her and took another bite. I wasn’t her servant. I had spent five years treating her like a queen, and now she expected me to bow down to her side piece? In her dreams. Julian smiled, pretending to be the bigger man, and poured the wine himself. “It’s fine, Chloe. I actually brought this wine to celebrate. Chloe mentioned she bought a special outfit a few days ago that she thought you’d like, Ethan. I was curious, so I wanted to stop by.” “I’m thirty now, and I still don’t have a family of my own. Sometimes I really envy what you two have. Let me drink to that.” His words weren’t an apology. They were a blatant taunt. He knew about the highly intimate lingerie Chloe had bought. He was rubbing his affair right in my face. “Are you talking about the bunny outfit in our bedroom closet? The one with the ruined tail? It looked pretty cheap,” I said calmly. Chloe dropped her fork. It clattered loudly against her plate. “Ruined? It must have been crushed under the heavy blankets. It wasn’t cheap at all! I haven’t even had a chance to wear it yet!” She emphasized the last sentence, looking panicked. I let out a cold laugh. Now I understood why she had rushed home earlier. She must have realized I had gone through the closet. This dinner was just a staged show to cover their tracks. “Right. A waste of money if you don’t even get to use it. Why don’t you try it on now?” I asked, looking her dead in the eye. Chloe froze, completely caught off guard. “W-What are you talking about? Didn’t you say you have to go to the hospital? Besides, Julian is still here. Let’s talk about this later.” I smiled. “Why wait? It’s not like Julian hasn’t seen it already, right?”

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