Category: English

My sister-in-law, Chloe Rivers, was getting married. On the way to pick up groceries for dinner, I decided to buy a lottery ticket. Little did I know, when the numbers were drawn, I’d hit the jackpot—$20 million! I had imagined living a dream life with my family, but then my husband, Brad, decided he wanted a divorce. I raised my thumb and held back my excitement. “Well, isn’t this just perfect? A double blessing!” After thirty failed blind dates, Chloe finally found her “Prince Charming,” Ethan Montgomery. Everyone in the family was thrilled about the news. Mrs. Margaret Rivers, my mother-in-law, invited Chloe and her new fiancé over for dinner. “Sophia, here’s two hundred bucks. Go to the store and buy something you young folks like to eat,” she said, slipping the cash into my hand. On the way to the store, I casually bought a lottery ticket. When I got home, I put the groceries in the kitchen and noticed that neither Mrs. Rivers nor Brad were in the living room. I started putting away the groceries, and soon enough, I heard the front door open. It must’ve been Brad and his mom coming back. “Brad, make sure Sophia doesn’t find out about the $75,000, or she’ll make a scene!” Mrs. Rivers said as she changed her shoes. “Relax, Mom. The money is safely tucked away in my personal account. Sophia has no clue it even exists!” Brad said, carelessly tossing his shoes around. “Good! With that $75,000, Chloe can marry into her new family with confidence. No one will push her around, and I can finally stop worrying,” Mrs. Rivers said smugly while sipping her water. I stood there, frozen in the kitchen, gripping the spatula. $75,000? Where did that come from? And it’s for Chloe’s dowry? As far as I knew, Mrs. Rivers worked at a factory, making about $4,000 a month, with plenty of expenses to cover. Brad had always told me that between the house, the wedding, and other expenses, the Rivers family was financially drained. When we got married, I didn’t even keep the $20,000 dowry my parents gave me—I handed it back to Brad’s family to help them out. So how in the world did they save up $75,000 in just three years? My thoughts raced like wildfire. I had thought marrying into the Rivers family made me one of them. But now, it was clear: the real family was just Mrs. Rivers, Brad, and Chloe. I was nothing more than a foolish housekeeper. Mrs. Rivers would toss me a few hundred bucks here and there, and I thought she was being generous. Turns out, compared to Chloe, I was nothing. She was practically treating me like a beggar, throwing me scraps. By now, the food in the pan had dried up and started to burn, but I hadn’t even noticed. “When did you get back?” Brad opened the kitchen door and was startled to see me standing there. My thoughts snapped back to reality, and I glanced at him. “I… I’ve been home for about ten minutes…” Brad rushed over, taking the spatula from my hand. “What were you doing? The food’s burning!” I quickly grabbed a bowl, poured some water into it, and dumped it in the pan. “Oh… I was just thinking about whether the store owner overcharged me for the groceries.” I made up an excuse, hoping to cover my tracks. Brad gave me a suspicious look. “You didn’t hear anything after you got home, did you?” His gaze felt like it was trying to pierce through me. I played dumb, staring back at him with confusion. “Hear what?” “You came in so quietly. I didn’t even hear you.” Brad’s expression softened, and he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I went out to get your favorite—durian. Just got back.” He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. It was then I noticed the giant durian in his hand. Suddenly, I felt repulsed by the durian—and his kiss. Not because I liked durian, but because Chloe did. This family was exhausting.

That afternoon, Chloe and her fiancé Ethan showed up empty-handed, ready to eat and drink as soon as they walked through the door. At dinner, I decided to bring up the subject of Chloe’s dowry. “So, Ethan, now that you’re marrying our precious Chloe, how much are you thinking for the dowry?” I asked, half-joking, half-serious. Ethan froze for a moment. “Sophie… We agreed on $18,800.” I chuckled. “Oh, lucky numbers, huh?” Then I turned to Mrs. Rivers. “Hey, Mom, that’s not a bad amount. How much are you planning to send Chloe off with?” “Do you have enough? If not, I can chip in. That dowry money is still with Brad, isn’t it?” Mrs. Rivers gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ve already got everything set aside for her.” Then she turned to Ethan. “I’ve been saving my retirement money for years, and I’ll give it to Chloe as her dowry. It’s not much, but I hope you don’t mind, Ethan.” Ethan quickly waved it off. “Not at all.” They all thought they were playing me for a fool. But without solid proof, I didn’t dare confront them at the dinner table. After dinner, they sat in the living room, laughing and chatting about wedding plans. The atmosphere was warm and lively, but there was no room for me on that couch. I looked at the chaotic dining table and the kitchen, which looked like a war zone. I took off my apron, excused myself, and went to my room, claiming I wasn’t feeling well. Mrs. Rivers looked slightly irritated, but with guests in the house, she didn’t say anything. I shut the bedroom door and collapsed on the bed, letting the tears I’d been holding back fall. A week later, Chloe and Ethan got engaged. They didn’t invite many people, and of course, I wasn’t one of them. How ridiculous. Mrs. Rivers told Brad I had to work, so I couldn’t attend. She sent Brad to bring me food at the office, making sure I ate before he left. But after he left, I took the rest of the day off and followed him to the Crystal Ridge Country Club. Not many people were there, but all the important folks from back home showed up. I watched as Chloe and Ethan posed for photos in front of an elaborate display. Not only was there a hefty dowry from Ethan’s family, but there was also a stack of cash—$75,000—waiting for Chloe. The reality hit me like a slap in the face. There it was—$75,000, not a penny short. Mrs. Rivers’ face turned pale when she saw me walk in. I handed the bouquet I had brought to Chloe and smiled. “It’s your big day, Chloe. How could I, as your sister-in-law, miss it?” Chloe’s face flushed with embarrassment. Brad rushed over, clearly annoyed. “Didn’t you already eat? Why are you here?” I raised my voice. “What? Just because I ate means I’m not allowed to attend the engagement party?” “Or are you worried I’ll see the $75,000 you’re giving Chloe?” The moment I mentioned the money, Mrs. Rivers’ face darkened. Once the secret was out, there was no more pretense. Chloe strutted over to me, full of arrogance. “So what if I’m getting $75,000? Can your family give you that?” “Your parents couldn’t afford a dowry like that, so what are you trying to prove?” Her words left me fuming. “Chloe, you know exactly where that $75,000 came from!” Mrs. Rivers jumped up, panicked. “Sophia, watch your mouth! What do you mean, ‘where it came from’? I saved every penny of that myself!” Brad frowned and added, “Sophia, stop causing trouble!” Ethan’s family sat there watching like they were at the movies, probably happy to see me humiliated. After all, marrying Chloe meant they were about to pocket $75,000.

When I refused to back down, Brad slapped me. It was the first time he had ever hit me in our two years of dating and three years of marriage. That slap woke me up. What was the point of staying in this mess? I slapped him back and walked out of the country club. When I got home, I grabbed a suitcase and started packing to go back to the Grant Family Home. As I was packing, I found the lottery ticket I’d bought a week ago in the pocket of a coat. It was the day of the drawing. I pulled out my phone and started checking the numbers one by one. Two billion… I’d won $20 million! In that moment, all the hurt, anger, and frustration melted away. My hands trembled as I reached for my phone to call Brad and share the incredible news. But just as I was about to dial, I stopped. He slapped me. Unless he apologized, I wasn’t forgiving him, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to share in my good fortune. Halfway through packing, I gave up and sat on the couch, waiting for him to come home. It wasn’t until nearly dark that Brad and Mrs. Rivers stumbled through the door, drunk. Brad tripped over my suitcase and fell. When he got up, he seemed a bit more sober. “Sophia, what are you doing?” “What’s all this? Are you planning to run away?” Mrs. Rivers rolled her eyes and let out a loud burp. “A useless hen who can’t lay eggs should’ve left a long time ago! Get out of here if you’re going!” I stood up, shocked, staring at Brad. “You want me gone too?” Brad pushed me aside and collapsed on the couch. “Yeah, go! Leave! I’m so done with you!” “Three years of marriage, and still no baby. My buddies think there’s something wrong with me!” “If I had known you were this useless, I wouldn’t have wasted money marrying you. What a damn waste!” Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t believe he’d say something so shameless. When we got married, he’d insisted we couldn’t afford to have kids. Now he was blaming me for not getting pregnant. At that moment, my heart hit rock bottom. I left the rest of my packing unfinished, grabbed my suitcase, and went to my parents’ house. The next morning, Brad called. I thought he might regret everything and ask me to come home. But the first thing he said was, “Sophia, where the hell are you? The house is a mess, and you haven’t made dinner! Get back here and clean up!” Typical. I sighed deeply. “Brad, I want a divorce.” There was silence on the other end, and then he burst out laughing. “Hahaha, great! Let’s get a divorce! Come right now, and we’ll do it!” I couldn’t believe how eager he was. From the time we ended the call to when we had the divorce papers in hand, it took less than an hour. Standing outside the County Clerk’s Office with the divorce certificate in his hand, Brad looked like a new man. He sneered at me. “Sophia, three years of marriage, and you didn’t even give me a kid. Let’s see who’d want you now.” I looked down at the divorce certificate, suddenly thankful I hadn’t told him about the $20 million lottery win. For me, the jackpot and the divorce were a double blessing. Brad had just lost the best thing that ever happened to him, and he didn’t even know it. Ignoring him, I took my divorce certificate, disguised myself, and headed to the State Lottery Office to collect my $20 million. A month later, as I sat at home counting my money, I received a summons from the court. Brad was suing me… Had he found out about my $20 million? Technically, winnings before a divorce are considered joint marital assets… Was he trying to claim half?

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I was diagnosed with endometriosis, a gynecological condition. The doctor said it could be cured if I got pregnant, otherwise, I’d need a hysterectomy. But after my husband regained his sight, he no longer wanted to touch me, only kissing my forehead and making excuses about being too tired. I understood he was exhausted from working at the massage therapy clinic all day, but then I heard him mutter as he turned his back to me: “By the way, you should go to a beauty salon and ask about laser scar removal or something. See if there’s anything they can do.” I was stunned. A long-forgotten sense of shame made my face flush red and white, but more than that, I was shocked. Was Samuel… disgusted by my face? My name is Aria Greene, and I’m twenty-eight years old. My husband, Samuel Song, is a blind massage therapist three years younger than me. We met through a matchmaking service. I had been badly burned in a fire, leaving a winding red scar from my cheek to my neck. It was quite frightening to look at. Because of this, I had put off getting married. Through my parents’ friends, I was introduced to Samuel. “It’s perfect. You have scars on your face, and he’s blind, so he won’t care about that,” my parents’ friend whispered to me. Samuel didn’t know about the scars on my face, which is why he was quite satisfied with everything else about me after our matchmaking meeting. He was kind and honest, and he played the ukulele beautifully. I happened to have a lovely singing voice, like a nightingale, and we often sang together at the clinic. Our regular customers said we were a perfect match. Fate had closed one window for each of us, but by meeting each other, we filled each other’s gaps. In anyone’s eyes, we were a pitiful yet enviable couple, because in each other’s hearts, we were the best partners in the world. Samuel hadn’t been blind since birth. He lost his sight due to light pollution in a factory accident. Although we had sought medical help for years without success, I still took him to see various specialists, hoping for some improvement. After losing his sight, Samuel taught himself the art of blind massage, and I quit my job to become the manager of the massage therapy clinic to take care of him. “Aria, I love you. I wish I could see what you look like, but that’s impossible now,” he would say, looking at me with his sightless eyes and gently touching my face, his smile tinged with sadness. Since both his parents had passed away, I knew I was the only person he could rely on in this world. I held the hand on my cheek, silently vowing to cure my husband’s eyes. However, my best friend had once quietly warned me that Samuel’s face was trouble – he was too handsome, and if he regained his sight, it might not be a good thing. Although I had worried about this point, the thought disappeared instantly when I saw the hardships and discrimination my husband endured. The life of a blind person is incredibly difficult, something only a caregiver can truly understand. I just wanted him to be happy and comfortable. Lost in thought, I habitually picked up a piece of tuna eye and placed it near his lips: “It’s okay. Of course, it would be best if you could see, but isn’t our life pretty good as it is?” Samuel nodded obediently. He was very dependent on me and always listened to what I said. We had never fought. I don’t know if it was because of our constant search for medical treatment or if those fish eyes we ate actually worked. One day, he suddenly told me he could see. It started when he picked up a toothpaste tube that had fallen on the floor without any difficulty, and he suddenly realized. I was overjoyed and waved my hand in front of his eyes to test: “Honey, can you really see now?” At the time, I was cooking in the kitchen, and because I didn’t want to contaminate the food, I was wearing a mask. He kept rubbing his eyes, letting out excited screams. Then he asked me to take off my mask, saying he could finally see what I looked like. “Aria, you don’t know how much I’ve dreamed of seeing your face. Your voice is so sweet, you must be a real beauty, I…” I froze, my hand hesitating to remove the mask. It seemed I was more afraid of my husband seeing my face than I had imagined. My facial features were naturally beautiful, but after so many years, how could I still have the delicate beauty of my youth? Most importantly, there was the crisscrossing burn scar on the side of my face. Before I could gather my thoughts, he had already impatiently removed my mask. “Honey!” The horrific scar was exposed before his eyes, and the air instantly froze. My heart sank because I clearly saw disappointment in Samuel’s newly restored, clear eyes. Little did he know, I too had once been young and beautiful… I couldn’t dwell on the slightly hurt tears, as I smelled something burning. I quickly turned back to the stove, where the fish eyes I was frying had already burned. The charred fish eyes were very sticky, burning the bottom of the pan and looking extremely unappetizing. “Don’t bother with that anymore, honey. I don’t need to eat those things now,” he said, hugging me from behind and burying his face in the crook of my neck. “I still love you, don’t worry.” Tears fell uncontrollably from my eyes as I realized I had found a good man after all. At least he hadn’t lost his conscience. I also mustered up the courage to tell him honestly about my condition. Due to years of hard work, I had developed endometriosis. The doctor said it was a common gynecological disease that could be cured by getting pregnant. If not, surgery would be the only option. The success rate was about 80-90%, but the chance of getting pregnant afterward would be almost zero. Blushing, I said, “Before, because of your blindness, we always used protection and didn’t try for a child.” The implication was clear, hinting at my excitement and joy at the prospect of becoming a mother. Originally, I had prepared myself to remain childless for life in order to take care of Samuel wholeheartedly. He just gave a noncommittal “mm” and continued to smile, but his gaze lingered on the scar on my cheek, refusing to leave. In the days that followed, he treated me even more tenderly than before. Since his eyes had recovered, he could also help with some housework. Samuel had lost his sight in his teens, but now that he had recovered, he quickly reintegrated into normal life. However, I vaguely sensed that something was off. Everything started to feel strange after we served an old customer at the massage therapy clinic. Her name was Lily Andrews, about twenty-something, very fresh and pretty, especially with her voluptuous chest. She had mentioned during casual conversation that she had breast augmentation. “In our line of work, looks and figure are essential. Otherwise, we can’t even meet clients,” she would say with a coquettish laugh, not at all mindful of mentioning this in front of me with my disfigured face. She often came to the clinic for massages due to kidney deficiency and lower back problems. Today she came again, but unlike before, my husband could now see what she looked like. That night was my ovulation period. After turning off the lights, my hand skillfully caressed his body, trying to arouse his interest. “Honey…” But he no longer wanted to touch me, only kissing my forehead and making excuses about being too tired. I understood he was exhausted from working at the clinic all day, so I nodded in agreement. But then I heard him mutter as he turned his back to me: “By the way, you should go to a beauty salon and ask about laser scar removal or something. See if there’s anything they can do.” I was stunned. A long-forgotten sense of shame made my face flush red and white, but more than that, I was shocked. Was Samuel… disgusted by my face?

After Samuel regained his sight, he quickly reintegrated into his social circle, like a fish back in water. I, on the other hand, began to isolate myself, changing from outgoing and lively to increasingly quiet and withdrawn. Additionally, I spent a considerable amount of money on an artificial skin mask, which I glued over my scars every day with special adhesive. Although putting it on and taking it off irritated the wound, causing a burning pain, I didn’t regret it if it made my husband look at me more favorably. “Aria, you’re developing a people-pleasing personality. Do you think he’ll treat you better because of this?” my best friend said angrily, accusing me of not seeing things clearly. I’ve always been good-tempered, so I gently reassured her: “It’s okay. He just regained his sight, so it’s understandable if he’s a bit excited and forgetful. As long as I get pregnant soon, everything will be solved.” At that time, I still maintained the traditional, virtuous side of a stay-at-home wife, believing that a child could tether his growing wild ambitions. However, what happened next made me heartbroken repeatedly, and the love I had stubbornly defended crumbled again and again. Samuel didn’t go to the massage therapy clinic very often anymore because he felt it was unlucky to pretend to be blind now that he had regained his sight. At home, he was used to my all-around care. After being diligent for only three days, he went back to being a hands-off boss and became addicted to online gaming. I often advised him not to play on his phone for so long since his eyes had just recovered, but he would impatiently shout at me: “Mind your own business! I mean… honey, I’ve just regained my sight. I’m curious about all the beautiful things in the world. Don’t worry about me.” Curious about all the beautiful things in the world. Including beautiful women. I pressed my lips together. He thought I didn’t know, but every night he was scrolling through videos of flirtatious beauties on his phone. Every time I caught a glimpse of this, my heart bled. His wife was lying next to him, yet he showed no interest in me at all. It was nothing but his growing disgust for me. Before heading back to the clinic in the afternoon, I casually mentioned that our regular customers, Mr. Zhang and Lily, would be coming, so I needed to go oversee things. Then I changed my shoes and left. To my surprise, as soon as he heard those two regulars were coming, Samuel seemed energized and arrived at the clinic on his electric bike even earlier than me. Faced with my surprise, he scratched his head sheepishly and said, “Mr. Zhang used to always bring us fish he caught. I wanted to ask him about fishing techniques.” I nodded, saying nothing, and went to the back room to clean the cupping equipment and other tools. Samuel was indeed discussing his eyes with Mr. Zhang, thanking him for the years of bringing fish, and chatting about fishing techniques for quite a while. Mr. Zhang left in a hurry after receiving a call about some work, and I heard the bead curtain at the door being lifted twice. Then a sweet female voice came through: “Oh my, the rain is so heavy today. I forgot to bring an umbrella and got all wet. It’s so hot and stuffy.” It was our regular customer, Lily Andrews, the PR girl who was a VIP member of our clinic. Last time she came, Samuel had continued to pretend to be blind while massaging her. This time, he chose to maintain the charade again. I didn’t understand why he could be honest with Mr. Zhang about his sight but had to continue pretending to be blind with Lily. Lily entered with a radiant smile, and even from the back room, I could smell the strong scent of her perfume. At the moment, there were no other customers in the clinic. Following a woman’s sixth sense, I secretly observed them through the door crack. Lily was attractive in every way, with a beautiful face like a bamboo shoot and unknown marital status. Just looking at the designer brands she wore, like Gucci, it was clear she held a significant position. To say she could be interested in Samuel… I didn’t believe it, but it was possible that my husband might be unilaterally attracted to her beauty. I lowered my eyes, deciding to observe quietly. Just then, my best friend called, so I said to him: “Honey, I’m going out for a bit. I’ll be back soon. You can start Lily’s massage first.” The only other female employee at the clinic had taken a day off, so it was just him. When Samuel heard my voice, his expression remained calm, but his face, unlike usual, was visibly flushed. “Okay, honey.” As I left, I deliberately closed the door and pulled the blinds, leaving no room for his little schemes. What he didn’t know was that I had already followed my friend’s advice and installed hidden cameras in the clinic to prevent theft. The reason I hadn’t told Samuel was that he was blind before, so he didn’t need to know. Shortly after leaving, I quickly went to a nearby shaved ice shop, sat in a corner without saying a word, and opened the remote surveillance on my phone. The woman had slowly removed her black stockings, lifted her jacket to reveal a perfect waistline, and lay face down on the massage bed. My heart and breath were suspended. Then they started chatting and laughing. I noticed my husband wasn’t wearing gloves but was applying massage oil directly with his hands. Generally, for hygiene reasons, our employees always wear gloves during massages. The next moment, something even more shocking happened. He had been giving her a proper massage, eyes straight ahead, only his cheeks growing increasingly flushed. The woman lying on the bed seemed very comfortable, letting out coquettish “mmm” sounds. Then she suddenly asked: “It’s so hot. Why don’t you turn on the fan in your clinic?” In my mind, I was urging Samuel to turn on the fan for the customer. Although the clinic was small, we had two ceiling fans. However, my husband blatantly lied to her, saying, “The fan is broken.” Although it wasn’t the height of summer yet, the heat was still intense. Even sitting in the ice shop with a fan, I was sweating. Lily made an “oh” sound, seemingly unable to bear the stickiness all over her body, and couldn’t help but ask: “Can you see?” Samuel shook his head in confusion. “No, I can’t see anything at all, don’t worry.” “That’s good. I’m so hot I can’t stand it anymore.” And so, to my utter disbelief, Lily casually unbuttoned her shirt. Her perfect body was directly presented in front of this “blind” masseur.

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Dropped Out for My Boyfriend’s PhD, He Married His Student – Now I’m Reborn to Change My Fate! dropped out of school to support my boyfriend through his Ph.D. But once he achieved his success, he cheated with a student of his and divorced me. Then, after a car accident, I woke up… back to the day I dropped out. I stormed into the school office. “Mr. Baker, I’m not dropping out!” Mr. Brian Baker adjusted his glasses and looked at me with a smug smile. “Ann Monroe, right? So, you’re staying in school now? Fine by me. But you’ll need to take care of that unpaid tuition and fees balance. That’ll be $8,904.90.” He eyed my worn, faded uniform with disdain. “When you got in, we all thought you’d be our little golden ticket. Six months in, and you’ve gone from the top of the class to scraping the bottom 500.” As he went on and on, my grandma pushed her way in from the hall, lugging a large burlap sack stuffed with my belongings. She had decided that if I dropped out, she’d sell everything I owned to the junk dealer. “Mr. Baker,” Grandma Lila shot back, “you better get your words right! What do you mean ‘fees’? This girl made the top ten on her entrance exams, and your school waived those fees! We wouldn’t even have considered coming otherwise!” “Grandma Monroe, the fee waiver had conditions attached! When she entered, we thought she’d go on to a state university. Now, I’d be surprised if she could get into a junior college.” In middle school, when my dad was still alive, I studied hard every day and scored high on every test. But high school wasn’t the same—the work was harder, and you needed not only talent but time. I had no time. While the other students were in evening study sessions, I was working the late shift at the convenience store. And while they were at early class, I was out delivering milk. And all the money I saved went to fund my so-called “little brother’s” video games. Grandma and Mr. Baker bickered on, ignoring me, the person actually involved. “Grandma,” I said, grabbing her sack. “I’m not dropping out!” She stared, shocked. I’d always been so quiet, and here I was, loudly refusing. But I wasn’t done. “Lenny’s not even Dad’s son! You adopted him, just so there’d be a ‘real heir’ in the family, and now you’re supporting his video games with the money I work to earn!” I was loud enough that teachers from the math department next door started to listen in. Grandma’s lips trembled. “Are you trying to kill me?” I shrugged. “Funny, you didn’t seem frail when you slapped me yesterday.” By now, I knew my only chance of staying was to win sympathy. Most teenagers would never dream of exposing their hardships, but ten years of hell taught me that survival mattered more than pride. I dropped to my knees, rolling up my sleeves to reveal red welts. “You’re forcing me to quit school, to marry a man old enough to be my father just for his dowry? That forty-year-old slob Dale Jensen, who can’t even feed himself? I won’t do it!” I crawled forward, letting tears fill my eyes. “Just let me stay in school. If I get into college, I swear I’ll support this family.” In my previous life, I dropped out, and they forced me to marry. I finally injured Dale, stole my ID, and ran. They all thought I’d gone off to the big city to find work, but only Sean Turner knew the truth—he found me half-delirious with fever. Starved for love, I’d bought into his lies, taken odd jobs to support him, even paid his tuition and expenses. But why did I have to send him to college? Why couldn’t I go to school myself? This time, every single abandoned dream, I would bring to life. And as for the parasites who’d lived off my back? I’d deal with them one by one. The teachers watched, stunned, as Ms. Wendy Harris—the one who’d originally recruited me to the school—came over and lifted me to my feet. “Ann, I had no idea,” she said softly, then turned to Grandma, her eyes sharp. “Mrs. Monroe, let me remind you: our school paid your family $5,000 to bring Ann here, and now you want to push her to quit?” “Five thousand?” I’d never known about that. Grandma squirmed, clearly feeling uncomfortable in front of so many teachers, but she wouldn’t back down. “Girls are meant to get married. Older men, well, they know how to treat a lady.” “Older? Dale Jensen is twenty-four years older! Ann’s only sixteen, Mrs. Monroe. What you’re doing is illegal.” This time, the teachers murmured disapproval. Grandma couldn’t withstand the pressure anymore. “Fine. She can stay. But don’t expect us to pay any tuition!” Relieved, I exhaled, though Grandma grabbed me and whispered fiercely, “If you insist on this, you’ll be paying your own way. Not a single cent from us.” Seeing Grandma’s fury, Ms. Harris stepped protectively between us as Grandma threw up her hands and marched out, leaving me surrounded by teachers. Mr. Baker, snapping out of his momentary sympathy, returned to his usual sneering tone. “No precedent exists for this kind of waiver. If fees aren’t covered, that’ll fall on our department.” “We’ll apply for every waiver available,” Ms. Harris said firmly, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Whatever’s left, I’ll cover it.” I hesitated and then looked back at Mr. Baker. “If I got into the Ivy League, would that cover my fees?” Mr. Baker spat out his coffee. “The Ivy League? We’d be lucky if we got one student into a decent state college!” “I just didn’t have time to study before,” I explained. He clearly didn’t believe me. “Well, the finals are next week,” he said. “Let’s see if you can back up those big claims.” Ms. Harris looked doubtful but kind. “Ann, you don’t have to worry about the fees. You can pay me back once you’re working if it bothers you.” My jaw set. I’d show them all. “Go on back to class and gather your things,” Ms. Harris said. It was between classes, so the room was buzzing with noise. But when I walked in, dragging my burlap sack, the chatter stopped. I walked straight to my old seat. “Taken,” sneered Greg Kent, who liked to think of himself as the “Denzel Washington” of our class, wrinkling his nose at my worn uniform. “But I’m back,” I said calmly, “so move your stuff.” Greg turned bright red. “You? Why bother staying in school if you’re too dumb even to get into a junior college?” He sneered, and the class burst into laughter. The fact that I’d once been one of the top students, to them, just made it funnier. Bam! I slammed my books down. “Greg, I earned my spot here. You? Your parents paid for yours!” First rule of standing up to bullies: focus on one, make an example of him. Greg’s face went even redder, but the bell rang before he could respond. Our strict English teacher walked in, clearly in a foul mood. Our class’s average score was much lower than the next class over. “With scores this bad, I could’ve thrown grains of rice at your answer sheets, and chickens would’ve picked better answers! You there, Greg.” She turned, her eyes snapping. “Ann here claims she’s ready for a recitation.” Greg flashed a mean smile. “Yeah, Ms. Preston, Ann says she can do it!” Clearly hoping I’d embarrass myself, he raised his hand. “Fine, Ann. Come on up here.” To his surprise, I nailed it. I started slow, but I could feel his smugness vanish as I recited each word. After class, Ms. Preston called me over. “You know, if there’s anything you’re struggling with, you could tell us.” Other teachers overheard and nodded, but I held my head high, determined. At that moment, Blake Preston walked by. Ms. Preston called out to him. “Blake, would you mind giving Ann a copy of today’s assignment?” I looked up, recognizing him. Blake, the boy who’d stood up for me once before, one of the only bright spots in my life. But now my goal was Ivy League or bust. Back in class, someone had soaked my books with water. “Was it you?” I asked Greg, who wore a guilty smirk. No matter what they did, I wouldn’t waste time on their games. By the next exam, I’d be ready for Greg and anyone else who tried to get in my way. I hauled my sack to the back row, finding a seat by the window next to Blake, the “Sleep King,” who rarely lifted his head off his desk. I sat down, relieved. Suddenly, he lifted his head and looked at me. “Blake, you don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” I asked as I settled in. “You’ve already sat down,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “You’re a good person,” I told him honestly. His ears went red. “Just don’t wake me up.” I could hear whispers from the girls in front of us: “Oh my God, she’s sitting by him!” And just like that, I had an unexpected ally in my new life.

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The two-faced girl buried her face in her boyfriend’s chest at her mother’s funeral. Watching the lovey-dovey couple and Claire’s hyperactive seven-year-old nephew, I chose to stay quiet as a mouse. Until the little nephew threw firecrackers near the urn at the funeral, and with a bang, gray-white dust scattered all over the ground. I leaned close to the dumbfounded Claire and whispered softly. “Your mom just went boom~” “Summer, those things are in the past. Why do you keep dwelling on them?” Lucas, my boyfriend of seven years, looked at me with disappointment. “If you go today, we’re breaking up.” Looking at Lucas’s still handsome face, I felt an unfamiliar sense of estrangement. “No matter how much bad blood there is between you two, Claire’s mother has passed away. Can’t you just let it go? When did you become so terrible?” Me? Terrible? Good grief, I almost laughed out of anger. Lucas was going to attend the funeral of his subordinate Claire’s mother, but his dear subordinate was the very person who had bullied me for three whole years during our school days. I couldn’t forget Claire’s pretentious face, nor could I forget how her mother had slapped me in front of the entire school. Lucas knew all about my past, but now, this man who had sworn to love and protect me was calling me terrible because I wouldn’t let him attend his subordinate’s funeral. “You’d still go even if it means breaking up?” I thought I would be hysterical. After all, before Claire appeared, we rarely had any arguments. Even when we were in a long-distance relationship for three years due to work, the word “breakup” was still taboo between us. Lucas didn’t respond, but his action of changing shoes at the entrance made his choice clear. As the door slammed shut, I felt utterly exhausted. The black screen of the TV reflected my dejected figure, as if I had returned to those days and nights from over a decade ago. I curled up in the corner of the dorm, fists and palms constantly falling on my body and face. Back then, I was also like this, hunched over, hugging my knees, like a drowned dog. The only difference was that back then, I couldn’t fight back and could only endure their bullying. But now, even if that scumbag and bitch want to be together, I’ll make them pay the price.

After contemplating my strategy, I applied decent makeup, changed into a black velvet long dress, and called a ride to Claire’s mother’s funeral. I knew Lucas too well. He cared a lot about his image and had repeatedly asked me to cooperate with him in public to maintain his good guy facade. So even if we broke up, he would push all the blame onto me to justify being with Claire. How could I let them have their way? I should have known when we first argued about Claire that Lucas was no longer the person who had pulled me out of the mire. At the funeral, Lucas was surprised to see me but still happily came to greet me. Before his hand could touch me, a petite figure like a broken-winged butterfly darted from behind me and threw herself into Lucas’s arms. Lucas’s face froze for a moment but quickly returned to normal, comforting the girl in his arms stroke by stroke. Muffled sobs could be heard, and I didn’t miss the flash of tenderness in his eyes. I watched the two calmly. This scene was within my expectations. After all, one of Claire’s favorite hobbies was using her pitiful face to seduce other people’s boyfriends and then cruelly humiliate the abandoned girls. Claire raised her head after crying enough, seemingly just noticing my presence. She shrank back like a frightened rabbit and timidly spoke. “When did you arrive, sis? I’m sorry, I was too emotional just now and couldn’t control myself.” As she finished speaking, her eyes reddened again. To an uninformed observer, it would seem like I had done something to her. “Couldn’t control yourself so you had to cry in my boyfriend’s arms?” Perhaps not expecting me to speak so bluntly, Claire choked for a moment and stepped out of Lucas’s embrace. “I overstepped. I’m sorry.” As she spoke, large teardrops fell one after another. I could almost hear the murmurs of the people around us, as it looked like I was bullying her. “Summer, you’ve gone too far,” Lucas frowned, his large hand reaching out to pull the crying woman back into his arms, softly comforting her. This was exactly the effect I wanted. I stopped paying attention to the two and casually found a seat where I could still see their interactions. They made quite a handsome couple. “Monster, take my punch!” A pain shot through my waist. I turned to see a snotty-nosed kid hitting me with an action figure. “Scared now, big monster? Pew pew pew!” The boy, seeing that I didn’t react, became more enthusiastic and even started kicking my shin. Not far away, a woman who seemed to be the boy’s mother saw that I wasn’t reacting and rolled her eyes before continuing to chat with the person beside her. “Little one, this isn’t right, you know.” I patiently tried to reason with him, but the boy not only didn’t stop but even tried to spit at me. Seeing his mischievous nature, I suddenly had an idea. “Hey kiddo, can you shoot lasers like the action figure?” The child was drawn in by the topic and sniffled, imitating the action figure’s laser-shooting pose. “No, no, when the action figure shoots lasers, there’s light. Look, just like that,” I pointed to a group of people preparing to light firecrackers not far away. They were a group of Asian Americans who had the custom of lighting firecrackers to ward off evil spirits in their country. As soon as I finished speaking, the firecrackers started crackling, with sparks of light reflecting in the child’s eyes. “See? That’s much more fun.” Seeing his excited look, I pretended nothing had happened and quietly moved away from him. After all, a child’s mind is unpredictable, and no matter what, I didn’t want to be implicated. Sure enough, after the firecrackers finished, it wasn’t long before there was a loud bang. The urn at the center of the memorial hall crashed heavily to the ground, gray-white dust scattering everywhere. The entire place fell silent. Even Claire couldn’t have imagined this scene, standing there dumbfounded. Only the child’s giggles could be heard. Perfect. I slowly walked up to Claire and leaned close to her ear, whispering softly. “Your mom just went boom~”

A good funeral turned into a farce. After I said those words, I tactfully left the scene, naturally missing out on a big drama. This scene was even posted online and quickly became the top trending topic. The comment section was full of discussions about how to discipline unruly children and sympathy for Claire in the video. Through this, Claire unexpectedly gained some fame, which was an unexpected benefit. I directly contacted a gossip account with a burner account and sent over the video I had recorded that day with the sound removed. Claire was quite popular recently, and this video hit the sweet spot for the gossip account. The content of the video showed Claire throwing herself into Lucas’s arms, followed by Lucas softly comforting her. Although there was no sound, just looking at the video, the two seemed like a loving couple. Besides this, there were other scenes of the two interacting, and in each frame, Lucas’s gaze was firmly fixed on Claire. The gossip account was very professional and didn’t ask who I was after receiving the video. After all, my burner account was newly registered, obviously not wanting my identity known. After doing all this, I packed a simple travel bag and left for a trip. The real show was yet to come.

My trip wasn’t long, just two weeks. During this time, I blocked Lucas on all contact methods, and he truly didn’t try to find me again. But it didn’t matter. The beautiful scenery made me forget the various unpleasantnesses of life and also allowed me to see myself clearly. I didn’t need to rely on anyone. Even if it was just me alone, I could feel love. But I hadn’t forgotten to keep an eye on Claire’s news. As soon as the video was released, it received a lot of attention from netizens. Originally, everyone was commenting on the most beautiful love, but some nosy netizens dug up my existence, and the tide of opinion immediately turned. Words like “homewrecker” and “two-faced girl” filled the comment section. This was exactly what I wanted, but it was far from enough. This was just the beginning. Claire seized the opportunity to start a livestream. After all, negative publicity is still publicity, and even if she was being scolded, such a large amount of traffic was enough for her to make a big profit. I was also present during the livestream. The first thing that appeared on the screen was Claire’s pitiful face, tearfully telling her story with Lucas. She talked about uncontrollable emotions, about restraint and self-control, about vulnerability and helplessness, portraying herself as someone who loved but couldn’t be with him, silently guarding him until she finally couldn’t help but throw herself into her beloved’s arms at her mother’s funeral. Throughout the entire time, she didn’t mention me once. I have to say, Claire played this move well. With her beautiful face and pretend strength, she aroused sympathy in the barrage of comments. Some even said it was because I was too ugly, not as pretty as Claire, so it was understandable that Lucas would pity and care for Claire. This really made me laugh. What kind of values are these? Just because someone is beautiful, they can shamelessly interfere in other people’s relationships? Just because they can cry, they can be forgiven for anything? Should ugly people just die? Should children who don’t cry starve to death? Some people even started fan pages for Lucas and Claire, shipping this couple under the name ‘Echoing Clouds’.

When I returned to the house Lucas and I shared, it was Claire who opened the door. She was wearing the couple’s fluffy slippers we had bought together, and on her body was my favorite silk camisole nightgown. Lucas heard the commotion and came out from the kitchen, still holding a spoon. He was very surprised to see me. “…Summer, why are you back?” I laughed coldly, “If I hadn’t come back, I wouldn’t have seen such an exciting scene.” “It rained heavily yesterday, Claire just came to shelter from the rain. It was too late so she stayed over, don’t overthink it,” Lucas frowned, his tone stiff. I knew this was his expression when he felt guilty. “If I had come back a little later, would you two have slept together?” “You really misunderstood, Lucas and I… we really don’t have anything…” Claire jumped in before Lucas could speak, her hand seemingly unconsciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I naturally noticed the red mark on her neck. It was just a provocation tactic. Did she think I would hysterically argue like her previous opponents, letting her reap the benefits? I directly pushed past the two standing at the door, locked them out, and started packing my belongings, ignoring their constant knocking. This house was bought with a down payment I managed to scrape together when I got lucky with stocks right after graduation. To save on expenses, Lucas and I moved in as soon as it was renovated, thinking it would be our marital home. Now it’s just convenient to kick him out. When I first bought the house, I had thought about adding Lucas’s name, but at that time he had just graduated and wasn’t well off. Later when Lucas asked to add his name, it was always delayed for various reasons. Now it seems even the heavens didn’t think he was worthy. After the knocking continued for a while, my phone rang. It was Lucas’s good friend, Mark. I didn’t have a deep impression of him, we had only eaten together a few times. Unlike Lucas’s subtle thoughts, his intentions were written all over his face. The first time we met, that blatant appraising look made me very uncomfortable. I knew with my foot that this call was to speak for Lucas. I had been traveling for two weeks and Lucas couldn’t contact me, but now he was just locked outside, and this call came so quickly. “Hey? Summer, I can vouch for Lucas, he and Claire really don’t have anything going on. No matter how angry you are, you can’t lock people out in the cold, what will the neighbors think?” Mark’s frivolous voice came from the other end of the phone. “They know what they did. If they dare to do it, are they afraid of others knowing? Tell Lucas we’re done. I’ll put all his things at the door tomorrow, not missing a single item.” With that, I hung up the phone. The journey had left me quite tired, so I went straight to sleep.

The next day, I called a few cleaning ladies to tidy up the house. I had thought our little home we lived in together would be full of items with memories of us, but after a thorough cleaning, Lucas’s things only filled one storage box, most of which were things I had bought. A photo in the corner caught my attention, one I had never seen before. I cleaned off the dust on the surface and looked at it. It showed a man and a woman kissing. The man was, of course, Lucas, but the girl in the photo, with a ponytail, wearing an oversized school uniform that made her look extremely thin, had a face I would never forget. It was Claire, Claire from high school, or even earlier. In her first year of high school, she loved to tie a ribbon to her ponytail’s hair tie, hanging down with her black hair, just like in the photo. My heart felt like it had plunged into an ice cave. Lucas had never mentioned that he originally knew Claire, let alone that they had such an intimate past. Those unbearable scenes flooded back into my mind, and certain details I had deliberately ignored suddenly became clear. I had thought Claire’s bullying was just because I was different from them. When everyone was eager to be a bad kid, the only good kid stood out. I, who buried my head in studies, became the object of their ridicule.

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My parents are divorced. I was granted to my mom, but I live with my dad for school. The large house I now live in has been transferred to my name after mutual agreement from both parents. After my dad remarried, my stepmom moved in with her daughter. The little one started causing all sorts of trouble, even asking my dad to arrange for us to be in the same class at school, under the pretense of needing his help. After a fight with my stepmom and her daughter, I changed the keypad lock, set the central air conditioning to 32 degrees, and took all the remote controls to my grandparents’ farmhouse. During the summer, Riverstone can reach nearly 100 degrees, and I left the heat on. When they called me, I was lounging in my grandpa’s rocking chair, munching on chilled watermelon. After my dad remarried, my stepmom moved in with her daughter, Luna Fairchild. We didn’t get along at all; I had always been the cherished one in the family, and everything revolved around me. But ever since Luna arrived, she wanted a piece of everything I had, even trying to claim my belongings as her own. I heard that Luna’s biological father was a gambler who sold everything of value in their house, almost risking his wife and kids as collateral for his debts. So, you can imagine how envious she was of the love and attention my family gave me. On her first day at our house, she saw my spacious room with the best view, complete with its own bathroom and walk-in closet. She tugged at my dad’s sleeve and said, “Dad, I’m so jealous of Ella! She gets to live in such a big room. I’ve never had a room of my own.” My dad, feeling sorry for her, gently patted her shoulder and turned to me, saying, “Ella, why don’t you let your sister stay in your room? She’s never lived in such a big house before.” I scoffed, “Is it my fault she’s never lived in a big house? Why should I give her my room? Just because she calls you ‘Dad’ doesn’t mean she is your biological daughter. Why don’t you go get a paternity test; maybe she really is your daughter?” Before my dad could respond, I turned to Luna and said, “Let me be clear: this house was bought by my mom and dad together. Now it’s in my name, so you and your mom should be grateful to stay here. If you’re not happy, then leave and stop making demands.” Feeling the tension in the room, Luna’s mom hurried over to smooth things over, chuckling awkwardly, “Oh no, we won’t take your room; the guest room is fine. It’s much bigger than the room we had before.” Luna wiped away nonexistent tears and nodded, following Selene to the guest room. My mom and dad met in college; my grandparents were university professors, so naturally, my mom was exceptional. My dad came from a poor background but worked hard academically, so my grandparents approved of their marriage. It wasn’t until after the wedding that my mom discovered my dad’s weakness—his lack of backbone and his being overly attached to his mother. My mom had received higher education in the city, while my grandma, uneducated and quite traditional, always tried to impose her will on my mom, leading to a strained mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship. My dad always defended his mother, insisting my mom should yield to her, which ultimately led my mom to choose divorce. By the time I was a sophomore in high school, my dad married Luna’s mom, and Luna moved in with us. After the divorce, my mom moved abroad for work, while my grandparents always favored a pastoral life and returned to their rural hometown after retirement. Though I was granted to my mom, I still lived with my dad for school convenience. “Ella, Luna is your sister; you shouldn’t be so harsh with her,” my dad said after the two of them went back to their room. I barely looked up from my book, too lazy to even raise my head. “Mom only had me; I don’t have a sister.” My dad knew my temper and could only shake his head helplessly. “Luna is transferring to your school, and she should be in the same class as you. Can you please look after her?” “In the same school? Who’s paying for her tuition, you or her dad?” I went to a private high school with great educational quality and a nice environment, which meant tuition wasn’t cheap. Luna’s dad was deep in debt and wouldn’t pay for her tuition; as for her mom, she seemed to be out of work at the moment. “Your aunt is starting a job tomorrow, so she’ll cover Luna’s tuition. I’ll take care of her daily expenses since I’m married to her now; we shouldn’t nitpick about these small things,” Dad replied. I nodded, indicating I had no problem with that. “But my allowance needs to go up.” Dad affectionately patted my head and said, “No problem.” Just as I thought this new sister wasn’t so bad after all, things took a turn for the worse.

Even though my mom was working abroad, she sent me gifts every month—mostly jewelry and clothes, which I kept neatly in my room. Every time I opened a package, Luna would hover nearby. I had warned her not to just come into my room, and she had promised to obey. Until one summer day, I accidentally discovered a selfie of hers on social media. She was wearing a dress from a trendy luxury brand. It looked just like the birthday gift my mom had sent me last year. When I got home, I opened my closet, and sure enough, the dress was gone. At dinner that night, I pretended to casually mention her photo, asking Luna, “Your dress is gorgeous! When did you buy it?” Her face flashed with panic as she stammered, “Uh, just recently, I bought it while shopping.” “That dress must have been expensive. When did you get so much money?” I pressed on. To my surprise, Luna suddenly slammed her hand on the table, angry. “Why do you keep asking? Can’t I buy clothes? Are you jealous that I have nice things?” “I’m just asking; I lost a dress that looks exactly like yours,” I explained. “Why should I answer you? I’ve never even been in your room!” she shouted defiantly. I nodded. “Since you’ve never been in my room, that means we have a thief at home. The price of that dress is enough for a police report,” I said, pulling out my phone to call the cops. “What are you calling the cops for? I thought the dress looked great, so I borrowed it!” Luna tried to grab my phone, but I dodged her. “Borrowed? Did you ask me? Did you get my permission? Taking it without asking is stealing!” “You’re being so rude! I just wore it for a bit! I’m giving it back!” Luna shouted back at me. “Where is the dress? Give it back!” I reached out my hand. After a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly pulled a crumpled dress out of her bag and handed it to me. The brand-new dress was torn in several places. “I… I accidentally damaged it,” she said, her voice shaky. “I never wore this dress. It was worth $12,800; you owe me,” I stated firmly, placing the necklace back in her hand. “What do you mean, over $12,000? Just say you want to extort me!” Luna exclaimed, her anger palpable. I was too tired to argue and returned to my room to find the receipt to show her. To my surprise, she snatched the receipt, tore it into pieces, and tossed it into the trash, grinning as she said, “Now that the receipt is gone, this dress is trash, and I won’t pay you a dime.” The birthday gift from my mom was something I treasured and never wore, and now she called it trash. Fury surged within me as I raised my hand and slapped her hard. Luna was stunned for a few seconds before we both started fighting. Just then, Selene came home from work and saw Luna and me wrestling. She rushed over to pull us apart. On the surface, she was trying to break up the fight, but secretly, she pinched my side hard a few times. So, I retaliated and started hitting both of them. Seeing me attack indiscriminately, Selene began pulling my hair, cursing, “You little brat, your dad is away, and I can’t wait to teach you a lesson! You’ve always been so arrogant toward us!” I couldn’t take them both on, so I bit down hard on Selene’s thigh when the opportunity arose. She screamed while hitting me, trying to make me let go, but the more they hit me, the harder I bit, until my mouth was filled with blood. When they finally let go, I released her and wiped the blood from my lips. While they went to the hospital to get treated, I quickly packed my bags.

The next day, I woke up early and, while they were still asleep, set the central air conditioning temperature to 32 degrees before packing all the remotes and keys into my suitcase. Before leaving, I didn’t forget to change the password on the keypad lock and locked the door; without the password, the lock can’t be opened from inside. With summer temperatures in Riverstone reaching nearly 100 degrees, they could enjoy the heat at home. After doing all that, I dragged my suitcase downstairs, my hair a mess and my clothes torn from the previous day’s altercation. To leave the neighborhood, I had to pass through the small park where the older folks were doing their morning exercises. We had lived in this neighborhood for a long time, my parents were friendly, and I often tutored the neighborhood kids, so many residents recognized me. I was crying as I walked to the gate when someone stopped me. “Oh my, isn’t this the Caldwell girl? What happened to you?” an elderly lady asked. I wiped my tears and shook my head, unable to speak. I recognized this lady; her last name was Chen, and she lived in apartment 301 of our building. “Where’s your dad? Who bullied you? Tell me, and I’ll stand up for you,” Mrs. Chen said, holding my hand with concern. Hearing “dad” made me cry even harder, saying I missed my parents. Hearing the commotion, people nearby gathered around, asking what had happened. I sobbed as I recounted yesterday’s events, and a kind lady heard that I hadn’t eaten and handed me two buns. Between tears, I said I couldn’t stay in that house anymore and wanted to go to my grandparents’ place. The lady who gave me buns was named Mrs. Zhang, known in our neighborhood for her love of gossip and her warm heart. After hearing my story, Mrs. Zhang slammed her thigh and said, “I knew that mother-daughter duo wasn’t good! When they first moved in, they didn’t even respond to my greetings. I didn’t expect them to take advantage of the situation while your dad was away, bullying you like this. It’s so heartless!” “Exactly! What kind of stepmother is genuinely kind to their kids? Poor Ella!” “She’s a mother herself; how could she do that?” While Mrs. Chen was fixing my hair, Mrs. Zhang went home to get some iodine to disinfect the scratches on my neck. Once Mrs. Zhang finished applying the medicine, I stood up, bowed to everyone, thanked them, and said I was going to stay with my grandparents. As I left the neighborhood, I could still hear the indignant discussions behind me. They messed with the wrong person; the neighborhood’s wrath could drown them in their own words. Just as I got into the car, Selene’s call came through. I hung up and turned my phone off.

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In college, I messed things up with one of the wealthiest girls on campus. Three years later, after a burst pipe in my apartment, I headed to crash at my buddy’s place and accidentally climbed into the wrong bed—hers. She gave me this cool, mocking smile. “Oh? Thinking of rekindling old flames?” Panicked, I tried to leave, but she pulled me back. “What’s the rush? You’re here already.” In my dream, I held someone warm, soft, and close, her smooth skin beneath my fingertips. The moment was thrilling, almost real—until a sharp pain shot through my ear. I snapped awake, finding myself face-to-face with those unforgettable eyes and a pair of soft lips moving as if in slow motion. “Ethan Blake,” she drawled, “after all this time, you really choose this way to meet up? What, feeling nostalgic?” I was so spooked I grabbed my ear back and jumped out of bed, face flushing. Veronica Grant, my ex. How did I end up in bed with her? Her hair spilled across the pillow, and she was only wearing a thin silk tank top. She looked… stunning. I could barely get the words out. “Wha—what are you doing here?” She narrowed her eyes. “Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.” All I wanted to do was bolt, but just as I tried, she gripped my arm. “What’s the rush? Here already, might as well stay.” How did I not know I’d climbed into my ex’s bed? My apartment’s pipes had burst late at night, and I went to crash at Nate’s place, trying not to wake anyone. But apparently, I ended up in the wrong room. The commotion woke up the house’s actual owner. Nate showed up in his pajamas, voice booming down the hall. “Ronnie, it’s the middle of the night! What’s going on?” When he saw me, his eyes went wide. “Dude, what are you doing here?” I chuckled nervously. “Pipes burst at my place. Needed a last-minute spot to crash.” Nate pulled me aside, shooting me a knowing look. “She’s my cousin, man. You two… in the same bed?” I wanted the earth to swallow me. Of all the people I wanted to avoid, Veronica was number one. This girl I’d once cared about more than anyone else… we’d just never had the right timing.

In college, Veronica was the school’s untouchable “ice queen.” I saw her at a club meeting one day and was smitten instantly. I heard she came from money and had pretty high standards. One day, she sprained her ankle in the locker room, limping out with her face scrunched in pain. I happened to be passing by, so I picked her up without thinking and carried her to the health center. After that, we became friends. Despite her icy reputation, she was surprisingly down-to-earth and forgetful, often texting me to help her pick up things she’d forgotten. She used to joke, saying I had to have a girlfriend to be so thoughtful. I’d laugh it off. “Nope, you’re the first.” She’d look at me with that spark in her eye and grab my hand. As we got closer, I learned that, aside from her looks, her “queen” status was tied to the world she came from—a circle of the ultra-wealthy that had little in common with mine. But she said she hated the fake world of high society and appreciated that I was just… real. It thrilled me. I introduced her to things I loved, like the best burger joint in town. When I earned a little money from helping professors with projects, I’d treat her to cheap-but-good eats. She’d sometimes offer to pay, but I’d wave it off. “Paying’s my job,” I’d say. “Leave it to me.” I might not be able to give her a life of luxury, but I wanted to give her my best. One night, as we stood in a quiet corner on campus, I couldn’t hold back anymore and kissed her. She kissed me back passionately. We were all wrapped up in each other for a while. It was just a regular relationship—one that didn’t survive the storms that followed.

One day, this guy named Brad Vaughn came up to me, looking all smug. “I’m her fiancé. You need to back off.” I stared at him, shocked. “She never mentioned she was engaged.” “Our families have an understanding. You’re not gonna be her boyfriend—ever.” “What can you give her, really? Just more baggage?” I didn’t buy it and argued back, but he just raised a brow. “Let me show you what her life’s like.” He dressed me up, convincing me to disguise myself, and took me to a mansion. Inside, she wore a gorgeous evening gown, hair up, mingling at a high-end gathering, all charm and poise. She moved through the room like a queen, flawless. And me? I looked down at my jeans and sneakers, feeling out of place. “See?” he said. “She’s up there. You’re down here, just a guy who took her out for cheap eats. She needs someone who can match her.” I bit back the urge to argue, though I insisted, “But she likes me.” Brad just laughed. “There are a bunch like you. Check her phone if you don’t believe me.” “She’s got people in her contacts divided by groups. Us, her circle, are in one group. You and others like you? You’re in another.” The next day, while she stepped away, I checked her phone. Sure enough, I was just a coded name in her contacts, lumped in with seven or eight others. When she came back, I asked, “You ever get bored with me?” She just gave a little smile. “No. I love being with you. You’re a break from the whole ‘perfect’ routine.” “And anyone else you feel that way with?” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “There are a few.” My heart sank. “Do you see me in your future?” “Of course! I want you by my side in the company. It’s like that new word everyone’s using—‘kept man.’ What do you think?” She gave me a playful grin, but I felt gutted. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted a partner, an equal. Finally, one evening after a sad movie, I had a moment of clarity. “Let’s break up.” She stared at me, shocked, then stubbornly agreed. “Fine. But don’t regret it.” When she texted me again, I blocked her. Just like that, three years passed, and I heard she moved abroad.

Nate’s jaw dropped. “Dude, you and my cousin… that’s why she was so down a while back. She locked herself in her room, barely talking to anyone.” I never imagined she’d be upset over me. I figured I was just another guy among those coded names on her phone. “Getting dumped sucks for everyone. It’s no big deal,” I shrugged. The next day, I was back to work, needing to find a plumber and get my apartment fixed. But I had to rush out for an important project meeting first. When my team arrived, who was there to meet us but Veronica herself. My heart froze, but there was no way out. “This project’s under a tight schedule,” she said, coolly professional. “We’ll need frequent meetings, and I’ll have to confirm some requirements with you directly.” I nodded. “Got it. We’re committed.” She turned to me. “Ethan, would you come to my office to discuss a few details?” I followed her in. Her office was elegant, with a clean, minimal style that didn’t quite match the carefree girl I used to know. Her business suit fit her perfectly, a picture of authority. She ran through the project, and I responded as best I could. Then, suddenly, she shifted the topic. “This project will mean late nights. Won’t your girlfriend mind?” I shook my head. For some reason, I couldn’t stop myself. “You’ll be working with us, too. Won’t your boyfriend mind?” She gave me a lazy smile. “Oh, he’s got a bit of a temper—pretty possessive.” I couldn’t help but think she meant Brad. A bitter feeling rose up in me. “Maybe you shouldn’t stay so late, then,” I muttered. “I can catch you up in the morning.” She studied me for a moment, then got up and sat right next to me.

I awkwardly scooted to the side, but she tugged my sleeve. “Why’d you block me? Can’t we at least stay friends?” I couldn’t meet her eyes, feeling a familiar ache. She leaned closer, her breath warm against my face. “Ethan, I—” Before she could finish, there was a knock. And in walked Brad. “Ronnie, sorry to interrupt. Didn’t know you had company.” He stopped, spotting me. “Well, if it isn’t Ethan Blake,” he sneered. “I hear you’re a project manager now. Impressive.” Seeing him made my stomach twist. He went over and put his arm around Veronica, pulling her close. “Dinner tonight, right? Got us a table.” He looked back at me. “Care to join?” I shot to my feet. “Sorry, I’ve got plans with my girlfriend.” Veronica’s eyes widened as I bolted out of there, Brad’s smug look following me. The frost I’d buried away all these years cracked wide open. That “girlfriend” I mentioned? Lindsey Hayes. Another college friend. She’d chased me back in school, but I’d brushed her off. Recently, her family’s company hired ours for a project, so I’d been on her turf for a few months. As the client, Lindsey kept setting up “team dinners,” always trying to get me tipsy and eyeing me like some prize. At that moment, she was my only escape.

I never expected that this project would put me face-to-face with Grant Industries—the company now headed by Veronica herself. I did everything I could to avoid her. If she didn’t specifically ask for me, I’d steer clear, and if she did, I’d bring a colleague along to minimize our one-on-one time. But I couldn’t ignore seeing Brad in her office. He showed up so often, just hanging around while we discussed work. Sometimes he’d even chime in on our meetings. Rumor around the office was that they were practically a couple. One night, I stayed late, trying to debug a line of code that refused to cooperate. I was so absorbed in my work that I didn’t hear her walk up until she handed me a cup of coffee. Startled, I jumped, accidentally spilling it all over her. Panicking, I grabbed a napkin and tried to clean up, my hands brushing over the thin fabric of her blouse. Realizing what I was doing, I jerked back and stood there like a kid caught doing something wrong. Veronica sighed. “Could you run downstairs and get me a change of clothes?” I hurried down to the 24-hour store on the corner, grabbing a blouse and pants. I hesitated, then threw in a set of undergarments, remembering the spill had soaked right through. When I handed her the bag, she looked at me, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Remember my size? You haven’t noticed I might’ve changed a bit over the years?” I looked away, embarrassed. “Well, you’re still in good shape, but just to be safe, I went a size up.” After changing, she came back looking different—almost like the girl I used to know, the one who’d join me for late-night fries and laughs. Just as she was about to speak, my phone rang. “Yeah, I’ll be right there,” I replied, holding up my phone to show her. “Sorry, family emergency. Gotta run.” Without waiting for her response, I grabbed my bag and hurried out.

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During the summer of my sophomore year in college, my 58-year-old mom decided to undergo IVF treatment. She said she wanted to give me a little brother, someone I could rely on in the future. After I convinced her not to go through with it, my parents and my cousin became godparents to my little cousin, bought him a house and a car, but refused to spend a dime on me when I was critically ill in the ICU. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the Thanksgiving Family Dinner. This time, I smiled and said, “Whatever you and Dad think is best.” I woke up and realized I had returned to that Thanksgiving Family Dinner. Uncle Thomas, mouth full of food, was still going on about his outdated ideas. “I’m telling you, a man’s gotta have a son! No matter how good daughters are, they’re not going to be the ones carrying on your name, right?” He kept talking, saying that now the laws had relaxed, and with how advanced medical science had become, IVF was a great way to ensure a son and secure their legacy for old age. Most of the relatives thought he was joking. They tried to dissuade him. “You’re 65 now, Thomas. Your daughter has her own family and career. You’ll be holding grandkids soon enough, so why chase after all this drama?” Uncle Thomas stood his ground. “Grandkids? They don’t even have my last name! If I don’t have a son, the Cross family line ends with me!” My dad looked tempted. “You’ve got a point, but are you and Linda even still able to have kids at your age?” Uncle Thomas replied confidently, “I’ve done my research. The IVF technology today is incredible. Not only can you still have a kid, but you can make sure it’s a son!” Then he turned to me. “Hannah, wouldn’t it be great if your parents gave you a little brother? You wouldn’t have to worry about not having family to look out for you!” He had asked me the same thing in my previous life. I looked at my father, who was starting to get excited, and patiently explained. Older women face a higher risk of pregnancy complications like high blood pressure and gestational diabetes. Not to mention, as age increases, the quality of eggs and sperm deteriorates, making it more likely that the fertilized egg will have chromosomal abnormalities. Even if they managed to conceive, the baby would have a higher chance of being born prematurely or developing issues like cerebral palsy or neurological disorders. Dad stayed silent. Mom, who looked a little nervous, tugged on his sleeve and shook her head. With my reasoning, they let go of the idea of pursuing IVF. But Uncle Thomas? He was determined. Two years later, he proudly showed off his big baby boy, born through IVF, at the family reunion, grinning ear to ear as relatives congratulated him. “Little brother, don’t worry! Now that I’ve got a son, the Cross family won’t die out. Be good to your nephew, and maybe when he’s older, he’ll take care of you too!” He laughed, slapping my dad on the shoulder, completely ignoring the dark look that spread across my father’s face. From that day, Dad began subtly blaming me. He said I was selfish, afraid that having a brother would mean sharing the inheritance, so I convinced him not to have one. Mom, too, resented me, saying I’d scared her with all that talk about the risks of having kids at her age, pointing out how Uncle Thomas and Aunt Linda’s son was perfectly healthy. They couldn’t comprehend the concept of probability. All I could do was silently endure their criticism. I thought that in time, my actions would prove to them that it didn’t matter whether they had a son or daughter. But what I didn’t expect was for them to start frequenting the hospital, trying to have a son just like Uncle Thomas. After numerous rounds of hormone treatments and egg retrieval attempts, they finally had to face the truth: Mom’s eggs were no longer viable. I thought that was the end of it. But then, I was in a car accident, left critically injured in the ICU, waiting for them to pay for the life-saving treatment. That’s when I found out the truth. They had made my three-year-old cousin, Nathan, their godson, using all their savings to buy him a house near Cedar Hills Elementary School. They didn’t pay a single cent towards my medical bills. Not even a visit. In my last phone call with them, their cold, heartless words became the final straw that broke me. “Stop calling us so much. We’re busy dropping off your little brother at daycare!” “You’re practically dead already. Don’t waste our money—we need it for Nathan!” So, they had abandoned me. Thinking of all this, I turned to Uncle Thomas with a smile and said, “You’ve lived long enough to know best, Uncle Thomas. Of course, Mom and Dad should make the decision.” He was pleased with my response and patted Dad’s shoulder, laughing. “Hannah is much more sensible than my daughter. How about this—we brothers can both go for another kid, and maybe I can even get the hospital to give us a discount!” Well, let’s see how that ‘precious son’ of yours takes care of you in your old age this time.

After the dinner ended, Mom and Dad held a family meeting back at home. “Hannah,” Dad started, snubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Your uncle said IVF will cost about $100,000 altogether, and if we want to guarantee it’s a boy, we’ll need to pull some strings, which might push it to $150,000. Your mom and I don’t have much savings, but we can scrape enough together for that. From next semester on, you’ll need to handle your own living expenses.” I didn’t reply right away. I glanced over at Mom, who was busy listening to a voice message on her phone. She set her phone down, her face serious. “I asked some friends. Since you’re a med student, you’ll be doing a hospital internship in your junior year, right? You’ll get a stipend. You’re in school all the time anyway, so you won’t need much money. Don’t add more burden to us.” “And besides,” she added, “we’re spending this money now so we can give you a brother. When he grows up, you’ll have someone from the family to rely on!” I nearly laughed out loud. How could they expect me to rely on a child when I couldn’t even count on my own parents? In my previous life, they feared the risks I’d mentioned and didn’t go through with IVF. But they held onto their resentment. After that Thanksgiving dinner, they cut off my living and tuition funds, claiming they needed to save for retirement. At the time, I thought they were just angry for a while. After all, I was their daughter, the one they had raised for twenty years. To make ends meet, I worked part-time during the day and tutored kids at night. My grades plummeted, and I almost flunked out by the end of the semester. This time, I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. I smiled and nodded. “Got it. I hope everything works out for you.”

A few days after returning to school, Mom called. “Hannah, your dad and I went to the hospital today. The doctor said your father’s sperm is still okay, even though the DNA fragmentation and abnormality rates are a little high. But my eggs aren’t great. We’ll need third-generation IVF, which will cost even more.” “So, try to pick up more tutoring jobs or a part-time waitress gig. Save up some money and send it to me. Your aunt told me I should be eating health foods like those organic smoothies to improve my eggs.” It was just like last time. When I had refused to let her go through with IVF, she’d constantly called me, complaining about headaches or fevers, and demanded that I work more to send her money for supplements. I had sympathized with her then, figuring Dad’s old-fashioned ways left her feeling unsupported. I always found a way to send her money, no matter how tight things were for me. But now, I stretched, feeling no such sympathy, and replied casually, “Mom, I have way more coursework this year and barely any time for a side job. And at the hospital, they only give us free housing and meals—no pay. I’m almost out of money myself. Can you send me $500?” Her voice became evasive. “Oh, well, I don’t have any money either! Your dad controls the finances, and it’s all going towards the IVF. If you need money, talk to him!” Before I could say anything else, she hung up. I set my phone aside and got back to my PowerPoint. After all, my new hustle of creating medical case presentations was bringing in $500 a pop.

Mom still got her organic smoothies. She took pictures of it from every angle, posting a nine-grid photo collage to her Instagram account: “Thanks to my wonderful Thomas for buying me this special smoothie! My son will definitely make it into my womb now!” She promised to take good care of her health and soon give my father the son he needed to carry on the Cross name. In the comments, some people congratulated her, while others weren’t so kind. “Aren’t you almost 60? Why go through all this?” “No offense, but your husband’s 62 too. There’s no way the kid will be healthy at your age.” Mom, furious, blocked them and swore she’d give birth to a healthy son. I quietly liked the post and turned off my phone. This was only the beginning.

Over the next two months, Mom was constantly posting updates in the family group and on her social media. “Went to the hospital for bloodwork today. They took tube after tube, but it’s all worth it for my future son!” “Starting the hormone shots today. Gotta eat more meat and keep my strength up so I can get some good eggs!” “Finally doing the egg retrieval! Wish me luck!” After that last post, her updates suddenly stopped. Three days later, I received a video call from her. On the other end of the call, her face was pale, and she looked both angry and confused. Seeing her like that, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity. “Mom, what happened? You don’t look well.” Tears started streaming down her face. “Hannah, what am I supposed to do?” “The doctor said my eggs are completely useless! That egg retrieval needle—do you know how long it was? Thirty centimeters! Your dad didn’t want to pay for anesthesia, so I went through the whole thing wide awake! It was more painful than when I gave birth to you!” “I suffered through all that, and then they told me my eggs are no good! But your Aunt Linda is three years older than me, and her eggs were just fine. Why?!”

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My fiancé, Caleb, was diagnosed with late-stage cancer just before we were to be married. Lying in that hospital bed, he and his mother pleaded with me to give him a child, a continuation of his legacy. Feeling moved by our three years together, I agreed and soon became pregnant. But I never expected that he’d want a final rush of wild freedom, hoping to fill the world with his own descendants. My name is Lila Caldwell. I’m twenty-one, freshly graduated from college, and just wrapped up a three-year relationship with my boyfriend, Caleb Northwood. We were finally ready to walk down the aisle. Caleb and I couldn’t have been from more different worlds. My family was modest—humble even. My passion and violin skills helped me land a place at Huntington College of Music on a scholarship. Caleb, four years older than me, came from a wealthy background and had already started his own small business. After one of my school performances, he introduced himself, charmed, and asked for my contact information. From that moment on, he pursued me with an intense passion. It didn’t take long for me to fall for him—who could resist a handsome, well-off guy who seemed to have it all? My parents, always straightforward and unpretentious, adored him. They couldn’t stop praising my “well-matched” engagement, convinced that I was lucky to be “marrying up.” They didn’t even ask for any financial support from his family. But just as we were sending out wedding invitations, Caleb, after years of dining out and hosting endless business events, was admitted to the hospital with severe abdominal pain. And that’s when everything fell apart. The biopsy results came back, confirming late-stage colorectal cancer. I sat by his hospital bed, clutching Caleb’s thin, frail hand, sobbing uncontrollably. The doctors had done a minimally invasive biopsy, so his abdomen was tender, and he had an oxygen tube up his nose, looking pale and pitiful. Seeing my tears, he reluctantly reached out and touched my face with his rough, trembling fingers, trying to comfort me. “Lila, please, don’t cry,” he whispered. “This might be better. After all, we haven’t tied the knot yet… this won’t keep you from meeting someone new. You’re still ‘single’ on paper—that’s good, right?” I shook my head fiercely, nearly shattered by the shock of his words. We had planned to get married next month. It seemed impossible to me that such cruel news could be true. “No,” I insisted. “I only want you. Just stay with the doctors, and you’ll get better—I know it.” It was a feeble attempt at comforting him because I’d already been told he might have a year left at most. He didn’t respond, just brought my hand to his parched lips, brushing a kiss across my fingers. I forced myself to smile, trying to keep my tears in check as I whispered, “Remember? You promised we’d go to Vienna and hear the Philharmonic perform once you were better. We’ll make it our honeymoon.” Even as I said it, I knew it was just wishful thinking. But I couldn’t stop myself from dreaming out loud. Beside us, his mother, Margaret, stood by the bed, usually glamorous but now looking worn down from tears. She’d fainted more than once since hearing the diagnosis. “Lila,” Caleb’s faint voice came again. “After I’m gone… marry someone good. My mom has my brother, and she’ll be fine, but I worry about you the most.” It was heartbreaking to realize that even now, he was still thinking of me before himself. I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Feeling the weight of his hopelessness, I finally broke down, sobbing over the bed. After some time, when I had calmed a little, I whispered softly, “Do you have any other wishes? Whatever time we have, I’ll do anything to make it come true.” He hesitated for a long moment before speaking in a low, raspy voice. “Lila, I love you more than anything. My one regret… is that we won’t get to have a child together.” I froze, feeling tears catch on my cheeks. Because of my upbringing, Caleb and I hadn’t been intimate, even after three years of dating. So, did he mean he wanted me to have his child? Caleb looked at me tentatively, his expression both pitiful and vulnerable. “If you could… the child would stay with my mom. I’d arrange everything so they’d inherit my share of the company. No one else would ever need to know about it.” His request hit me like a punch. I was only twenty-one, and I’d been planning to go to Austria for music school in a few months. Just then, his mother, Margaret, broke down into sobs, falling to her knees in front of me. I was startled, rushing to help her up, but she gripped my hands, her face wet with tears, and begged, “Lila, I know you’re a kind woman. Please say yes to Caleb’s last wish. It would give us something to live for after he’s gone. I’m begging you…” I looked over at Caleb, feeling conflicted. Honestly, I didn’t want to bring a child into the world who’d grow up without a father. His expression was filled with quiet desperation, as though asking, “Lila, isn’t our love worth leaving a legacy behind?” “Lila, this child won’t ever hold you back in life. I promise. After the baby’s born, Caleb’s father and I will make sure you’re set for the future.” I admit, I was young and deeply emotional, and Caleb’s suffering overwhelmed everything else in my mind. So, in a moment of weakness, I agreed. Caleb pulled me into a tight hug, resting his hand on my stomach, as though he already felt a piece of himself growing there. After his insistence, Caleb was discharged early, and he planned for us to stay nearby at Blue Ridge Springs Resort, his idea of a honeymoon to start a family. I suggested getting legally married, but he cut me off sternly, saying it would only complicate my future. “I’ll never let us get legally bound,” he insisted. A flash of doubt crossed my mind—was it possible he didn’t want me to have any claim to his inheritance? But I quickly dismissed the thought. I could feel he was sincere. He kept mentioning how he’d make sure I was financially secure after the baby was born. Though money didn’t matter to me, I was moved by his thoughtfulness. On the third day, hiding the truth about his illness from my parents, I joined him at the resort. When the time came, I was nervous, deeply uncomfortable with the strange blend of duty and sacrifice rather than pure love. My first time was painful and unsettling, and he barely noticed, caught up in his own needs. Afterward, he even told me to lie on my back against the wall for half an hour to “help with conception.” We stayed at the resort for a few days. Caleb was surprisingly optimistic, even comforting me whenever I worried about his illness. “Lila, don’t be scared,” he’d say, “I’ve accepted things. Living is all about enjoying what you have.” So, I stayed true to my promise, never using protection. Sometimes, when his illness faded into the background, his energy made him seem almost healthy. Yet, his thinning hair from chemotherapy was a reminder that cancer’s grip was unrelenting. Finally, after weeks of effort, I stared down at the test stick in my hands. It showed two lines—I was pregnant. But instead of feeling joy, I felt a hollow ache. I could only sigh. I hoped he’d realize that I wasn’t doing this for any financial gain but out of love. His condition worsened quickly after that, and the hospital visits became frequent until the day he never left again.

After confirming my pregnancy, Margaret’s attention only grew, and she even hired a caregiver to help me. “Lila, that baby in your belly is all Caleb has left,” she’d say. “You have to take care of yourself.” Still, I took it upon myself to look after Caleb, making soups and stews to encourage his appetite. Years of growing up without much had made me resourceful in the kitchen. That day, I cooked corn and rib soup from scratch, as I always did, and brought it to him in the VIP ward on the top floor of St. Mary’s Medical Center. The VIP ward was fitting for Caleb’s family’s status. It was lunchtime, and the floor was silent, sunlit hallways stretching before me as I walked toward his room, carrying the food. Though I had given up on my dream of studying in Austria and a future in music, I felt no regrets. I was doing it for love. But as I approached the door, I heard something odd—soft voices from within the room. I froze, pressing my ear to the door. The voice was unmistakably his. He’d removed his oxygen tube, whispering intimately to someone I couldn’t see. “…Jenny, give me one last chance. Have my child, my last hope,” he pleaded breathlessly.

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Title: What’s It Like to Have a Jerk for a Boyfriend? In chick lit, there’s a cliche called “replacement love.” It’s when the male lead, missing someone he loves, finds a girl who looks just like her. Unbelievably, I ended up as the unlucky woman studying abroad, only to be cheated on. My first boyfriend couldn’t dodge the cheesy plot; he started dating someone who looks a lot like me. When I came back to town, he brought his new girlfriend to my welcome home party. Friends from our circle were all waiting to see me flustered. They were in for a surprise though, as I brought my new boyfriend back as well. The day Kai Dawson broke up with me, he sent a text: “Sorry, Sue. I broke my promise. I don’t want to wait anymore.” At that time, I still had a year left in school. We had survived three years long-distance, but our relationship fell apart in the last year. He had shown signs of losing interest, so I wasn’t too surprised. Swallowing my sadness, I replied: “It’s okay, let’s just be friends.” “Alright.” But later, I found out he had blocked me. A good ex is like being dead. I didn’t blame him and just blocked him back. Before returning from Italy, some old friends insisted on throwing me a welcome back party. They didn’t tell me that Kai and his new girlfriend would be there. Luckily, my best friend couldn’t stand it and tipped me off. “Sue, don’t go! They just want to humiliate you! Kai’s new girl is afraid he might still have feelings for you, so she demanded this party to show off.” I shrugged off her concern, “Aside from them, there are other people I haven’t seen in a while. I’ll just give them face and show up.” “It’s all Kai’s buddies. I wish I could be there to support you. Don’t let them get to you!” “Thanks for the heads-up. If someone’s set the stage for me, I can’t let them down. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” The day I returned, I went to the party as planned. The waiter opened the private room door, and the first person I saw was Kai, sitting at the head of the table. A year hadn’t changed his good looks and confident demeanor. Next to him sat a stunning woman, his new girlfriend Evelyn, a recent hire at Kai’s company. She bore an uncanny resemblance to me. My heart tightened at the sight. I remembered two years ago when Kai sent me a picture of Evelyn. “A new recruit came in for an interview today. She startled me; I thought you had snuck back to surprise me.” Back then, Evelyn looked even more like me—same hairstyle, makeup, and fashion sense. I laughed it off, joking, “Maybe we’re related. I need to ask my dad.” Kai said, “No, she’s not. She’s from out of town, her parents are alive, and she has a twin brother who looks nothing like her.” “You checked into her background?” “Of course, we need to know about new hires.” Who would’ve thought that the girl I didn’t think twice about would replace me so completely? Back in the present, Kai’s friend Finn stood up. “Welcome back, Sue. It’s great to have our star back…” His voice trailed off as everyone looked at the man behind me. I greeted them calmly: “It’s been a while. Thanks for remembering me.” Finn forced a laugh and asked, “Sue, who’s this? Aren’t you going to introduce him?” Stepping aside, I proudly introduced, “This is Gareth Kirby, my boyfriend.” The word ‘boyfriend’ made everyone’s eyes widen in surprise. Gareth flashed his dazzling smile, showing off two cute dimples: “Good evening, everyone. I’m honored to be here with you tonight.” Gareth is incredibly handsome, and his smile had an explosive effect. The ladies were openly staring. One girl with long black hair exclaimed, “Wow, Sue, your boyfriend is too gorgeous!” The others quickly followed: “He’s unfairly handsome! Is Gareth a model or an actor?” Before I could answer, Gareth chimed in sweetly, “Thank you for the compliment, but you’re all very beautiful too. Just call me Gareth.” Not only is he good-looking, but he’s also charming. The crowd that was waiting to mock me had their focus entirely captured by Gareth. Even Evelyn couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. Kai’s face darkened, and he said sternly: “Let’s all sit down and chat. No need to stand around.”

As Kai spoke, the chatter died down. The waiter added an extra seat, and Gareth and I sat closely together. Once seated, I began introducing Gareth to everyone at the table. Tonight was supposed to revolve around me, but everyone was now completely fixated on Gareth. Gareth had been studying in France since middle school. He’s naturally outgoing and sociable, so I wasn’t worried about him being out of place. The girl with the long straight hair teased me, “Sue, you really kept this one under wraps, didn’t you? Secretly got yourself a new boyfriend.” Her words carried a bit of edge, and I saw some people’s eyes dart between me, Kai, and Evelyn with curiosity. I smiled softly and said, “Well, life is all about moving forward, isn’t it?” Over on the other side, Evelyn shyly leaned closer to Kai. “What’s wrong?” Kai asked, genuinely concerned. “Just a bit tired from filming a late-night scene last night…” Evelyn said, trying to muster a smile, “I’ll be fine. I’ll just take a nap in the car later.” Kai’s concern was palpable, “Eat something and I’ll take you home to rest.” He urged everyone, “Let’s order some food.” Someone teased, “Mr. Dawson is such a doting boyfriend.” “With a girlfriend as beautiful as Evelyn, who wouldn’t be?” Evelyn bashfully hid her face in Kai’s shoulder, “Stop teasing me…” I could feel some probing eyes on me, waiting for my reaction. Inside, a mix of bitterness and sadness churned, but I didn’t let it show. It stung to see my longtime boyfriend with someone who was essentially my replacement, flaunting their affection right in front of me. The feeling of being outdone by a knockoff version was humiliating. “Doting boyfriend? Really?” I thought to myself. The deep affection he once showed me could transfer so easily to someone else. I couldn’t tell if that was my tragedy or his. Finn politely offered me the menu, spinning it on the lazy Susan toward me. Trying to keep my composure, I said graciously, “I’m not familiar with this restaurant. Why don’t you all order what you like? This meal is on me, so go ahead and pick anything.” Kai replied indifferently, “This place is members-only. I’ll cover it through my membership.” I smiled politely, “Thank you, Mr. Dawson. Let’s have me host next time.” Gareth, without hesitation, picked up the menu and whispered in my ear, “Sue, what’s this chicken dish with sea cucumber?” “It’s a beauty-boosting dish. Want to try it?” “I’d like to.” He kept pointing out dishes and asking me about them, and I patiently explained everything I knew. Our heads were so close together it was almost like we were whispering secrets. The long-haired girl couldn’t help but ask, “Gareth, are you younger than Sue?” Without hesitation, I answered, “Yes, Gareth is six months younger than me.” The ladies chimed in with enthusiastic comments: “A younger boyfriend, how intriguing!” “Young and full of energy!” I overheard Kai’s friends whispering in Glaswegian dialect, perhaps thinking Gareth wouldn’t understand them: “A pretty boy hired to play the part?” “Must be, just to annoy Kai…” “I thought she had moved on. He’s just a kept man.” “Pride can be a heavy burden.” Disrespectful, regardless of whether it was true. Kai likely heard them, too. His lips curled into a mocking smile as he glanced at Gareth with disdain. Evelyn softly asked, “Kai, do you like younger women too?” Kai’s response was thinly-veiled disdain, “No. I’m a bit old-fashioned; I need a woman younger than me.” Clearly a jab at me, but I bit my tongue, forcing myself not to react. Gareth, oblivious or simply unbothered, kept browsing the menu. He saw a sea cucumber soup and said to one of the whispering guys, “Dougie, how about I order you some sea cucumber soup?” Dougie, trying to be polite, replied, “No, thank you, that’s too much…” Gareth smiled sweetly, “You’ve got dark circles and grey around your lips. Might be kidney issues. Sea cucumber is quite nourishing.” No man wants to hear that, and Dougie’s face turned several shades at once. He rushed to deny it, “I don’t have kidney issues!” Gareth, with unflinching innocence, said, “Your dull, oily skin and red nose suggest hormonal imbalance. You should see a specialist.”

Poor Dougie looked like he was about to explode from embarrassment, unable to come up with a retort. I playfully scolded Gareth, “Gareth, Dougie’s girlfriend would know if he had such issues. No need for you to worry.” Dougie’s girlfriend, caught in the awkwardness, took a sip of water. Gareth quickly apologized, “Sorry, Dougie, I didn’t mean to be so blunt. I know you won’t take it to heart, right?” What could Dougie say? He could only stew in his own frustration. The long-haired girl, enjoying the drama, asked, “Gareth, can you diagnose us too?” “I wouldn’t say diagnose. My grandpa’s an internist, so I picked up a bit here and there,” Gareth downplayed his knowledge, then dropped another bomb on the second whisperer, “Mr. Newman, your sparse facial hair but thick head hair is typical of someone wearing a wig.” Newman had long dealt with premature balding, always hiding it with a wig—it wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t talked about either. A few people couldn’t hold back their laughter. Newman’s smile disappeared, his tone becoming hostile, “What’s your point?” Gareth feigned surprise, “Oh? Did I say something wrong? I thought it was a wig. It’s so realistic; I was going to recommend it to my uncle. My bad. It’s real hair?” Newman, who hated any mention of his wig, almost lost it. He was about to lash out when I softly reiterated in dialect, “Pride can be a heavy burden.” Newman swallowed his retort, simmering in anger. Gareth, all innocence, asked, “Sue, what did you just say?” I smiled, “Nothing, let’s order.” Food finally arrived, and Gareth and I played the perfect hosts, urging everyone to dig in. Evelyn tenderly peeled shrimp for Kai, and Gareth cut my steak. They flaunted their affection, and we flaunted ours. Everything seemed fine until one troublemaker couldn’t keep his mouth shut. A guy with glasses said snidely, “It’s a new world where men are doing women’s work now, huh?” He then praised Kai, “Kai made the right call, choosing a gentle, traditionally-minded girl.” But before Kai could respond, the long-haired girl scoffed, “So, are you looking for a girlfriend or a maid?” Another short-haired woman chimed in, “Do you think women exist to serve you?” I smiled softly, “It’s not the Victorian era anymore.” That guy quickly became the enemy of all the women at the table. Trying to salvage his standing, he backpedaled. “Just joking. No need to be so sensitive.” Gareth, with a big grin, added, “In my family, it’s normal for men to take care of women. My mom never has to peel shrimp; my dad always does it for her. Now, even in her fifties, her hands are still soft and pretty.” Gareth peeled a shrimp in a few swift motions, removing the vein and placing it in my bowl. I smiled and thanked him. The long-haired girl chimed in, “Gareth and his dad are the real doting men here. Actions over words any day.” Kai’s face showed a hint of discomfort, and even Evelyn looked awkwardly at their half-eaten shrimp. The meal turned out to be more comfortable than I’d anticipated. Watching my ex with his new girlfriend wasn’t as painful as I’d feared. On the way back, I gazed pensively out at the night. Gareth tried to lighten the mood, “Sue, did I do alright today?”

I laughed softly, “You did amazingly well, even better than I thought you would.” “Of course! How could I let you down?” Gareth replied confidently. “By the way, do you actually understand that Glaswegian dialect?” I asked, clearing up a nagging question in my mind. “Yup,” Gareth said, puffing out his chest with pride, “I know four languages and fifteen dialects.” He started listing off, almost like showing off a treasure, “Scottish, Irish, Gaelic… I know them all.” I sighed, “You’re really something else. Being an actor is actually an understatement.” “Nah, it’s not easy being an actor either,” Gareth replied humbly. He was also an artist signed to my company. We were college mates; I studied economics, and he went to the art school. Gareth, tall and handsome with an extroverted personality, loved performing. He had experience in theater and was pretty popular on social media, making him a minor celebrity abroad. Several talent agencies had tried to sign him, and he was keen on breaking into the domestic entertainment industry. Hearing my family’s business was a film investment company, Gareth approached me. My company rarely signed new talent, preferring seasoned actors from prestigious acting schools. Despite his impressive resume, Gareth was still considered a rookie. But I needed a good-looking and talented actor to deal with Kai and the gang upon my return, so we struck a deal. Gareth said sweetly, “If you ever need me to act again, just let me know.” “Thanks, but you should focus on your career,” I replied, putting on a serious face. “I treat you the same as any other employee. I hope you earn your place at the company through your own merit.” “Yes, ma’am!” Gareth gave me a playful salute. Once home, freshly showered and ready for bed, my best friend Lily sent me a voice message: “Hey, I heard you brought a new boyfriend?! When did that happen?” I could practically see her eyes shining with gossip through the phone. I gave her a rundown of what happened. Lily chuckled, “So, you hired an actor? That’s smart. He’s handsome and charming. Who knows, maybe sparks will fly for real.” I sighed, “I don’t mix work with personal life. It’s just messy.” “True, power dynamics can get weird. But are you sure he doesn’t have other motives?” Lily interrupted herself, “Susan told me your ‘boyfriend’ roasted Kai’s friends to a crisp! Too bad I missed it!” Susan was the long-haired girl from dinner. “He’s quick-witted and has a sharp tongue…” I was saying when a friend request popped up on my phone: Evelyn. Kai’s new girlfriend wanted to add me? I was puzzled. She must’ve gotten my contact from Finn. After a few seconds of thought, I accepted. Back in the chat, Lily asked, “Still there?” “Yeah, Evelyn just added me.” “😲 What’s she want?” “No idea, maybe she has something to say?” “Drama queen.” Evelyn soon sent a greeting, to which I politely responded with a smiley emoji. Then she sent a video. In the dim light, I could see a shirtless Kai, snoring and sprawled on a pillow, with someone’s bare arm in the shot. Disgust hit me like a wave, making me feel sick. Evelyn texted: “Kai’s snoring is so loud. Was he always like this? He won’t sleep without hugging me; it gets so hot and sticky…”

Lily wasn’t wrong; Evelyn was a drama queen. Unsure how to respond, I exited the chat. Out of sight, out of mind. Lily was still curious, “Why did she add you? Did she say anything?” I sent her the video and our chat. Lily exploded, sending a barrage of memes: “Is she insane?” “I’ve never seen anyone so shameless!” “Evelyn’s crazy!” I replied, “I think I’ll just delete her.” “Don’t! She’ll think she scared you off. Keep her around. Let’s see what other stunts she tries to pull.” “Okay, I’m off to bed. You should rest too.” “You can sleep after that? That girl’s nuts! Kai’s a fool for cheating on you for her.” “Seeing them together today, I was sad. But now, I feel relieved. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Thanks to Evelyn, I see Kai clearly now.” Lily said, “You’re so chill. I’d be cussing both of them out!” I sent her a meme saying “I’m eerily calm right now.” “Don’t waste your energy on people who don’t deserve it,” I advised. Evelyn didn’t provoke me again, though she often posted lovey-dovey pictures of her and Kai in her Moments, all of which were only visible to me. Realizing this, I decided to block her. Back to Gareth, he officially joined my company as a signed actor. The company planned to film a spy drama “Misty Mist,” and I secured a role for Gareth as the third male lead. He was thrilled. “Sue, I’ve read the script. My part isn’t huge, but it’s a powerful role.” I encouraged him, “Do well, and you can aim for movies. Your career could skyrocket.” Most lead roles were taken by acclaimed actors, promising mutual success for the film. But a month before shooting, the female lead was replaced by none other than Evelyn. As a producer, I was the last to know. The investor’s representative apologetically explained, “Mr. Dawson insisted Evelyn play the role. He really wants her in this project. We hope you’ll understand.” With financial backing from Kai’s company, I had little choice. Complaining would be futile. I felt disheartened but professional, “Tell Mr. Dawson that any breach of contract fees must also be covered.” The rep readily agreed, “Of course, Mr. Dawson will handle all costs.” So, it was settled. With the closed training and filming schedule, Gareth would be in the crew for nearly half a year. I was increasingly busy and rarely had time to check in with him. Two months into filming, Gareth messaged me, “Sue, can you come visit me on set?”

I replied cheerfully, “I’d been planning to come visit you all anyway. See you in a few days.” Gareth was over the moon, his excitement so evident as he said, “Really? That’s awesome! I can’t wait!” I knew why he wanted me to come. Apparently, Kai had recently visited Evelyn on set. I chuckled, “Whatever other kids get, you’ll get too.” “Thanks, Sue!” As the weather turned colder, I made sure to bring hot drinks for the entire crew when I visited the set. Gareth was still in costume from his scene, wearing a perfectly tailored 1930s military uniform that made him look dashing and charismatic. Seeing me, Gareth lit up like a lost puppy reunited with his owner, practically wagging his tail. I patted his head and then his shoulder. Though Gareth was only six months younger than me, our dynamic often felt like… well, parent and child? Owner and pet? Today, some media were also on set for interviews. After gulping down his hot coffee, Gareth was pulled aside by the director for a press interview. He and Evelyn sat together on camera, mics in hand. After some standard questions, the reporter targeted Gareth: “As newcomers, what do you two think of each other’s performances?” Evelyn turned on her performance mode and said with exaggerated sweetness, “Gareth is great with everyone; he’s charming and always knows how to make people smile. Everyone adores him. Our producer even came today just to see him. I’ve heard Gareth was a personal recommendation by our producer, and they’re college mates. I’m sure he has qualities that really stand out, which is why the producer took special interest in him.” Evelyn was just a step away from saying Gareth got his role by cozying up to the boss. It’s true I was promoting Gareth, but he had the talent to back it up. And let’s not forget Evelyn was only here because Kai paid big bucks to get her in. Pot calling the kettle black! The reporter chuckled awkwardly and turned to Gareth, “Gareth, what do you think of Evelyn?” Gareth flashed an impish grin, “I admire Evelyn a lot. She’s come up with a brilliant way to remember her lines. She gets her assistant to write them all on big cue cards and reads off them during scenes. It’s genius! Saves so much time on memorizing. Why didn’t I think of that? Gosh, I’m really slow!” His words dripped with sarcasm, leaving Evelyn fuming and forcing a smile. The awkward tension was palpable, with some crew members stifling laughter. Evelyn forced a laugh, “That’s not true… I only use the cards as a backup. I don’t really look at them during takes…” Gareth didn’t let up, “Oh, I’m just bad at memorizing, so I use my meal breaks to study my lines. Not like Evelyn, who’s both beautiful and clever. She spends her breaks video chatting with her boyfriend. So sweet and enviable…” Gareth pretended to be shocked, covering his mouth, “Wait, was I not supposed to say that? Can we cut that part out?” Evelyn’s face turned green, her eyes rolling in exasperation. The reporter quickly changed the subject, trying to steer the interview back on track. Media folks know better than to air dirty laundry that tarnishes everyone involved. Sometimes, it takes a real jerk to beat another jerk at their own game. Internally, I rated Evelyn: “Prideful but clueless, daring to mess with Gareth—good luck!” In the entertainment industry, actors pulling each other’s hair in private isn’t unheard of. Companies usually don’t step in unless things get out of hand. But some folks just can’t let things go. Not long after, I attended a business event with my brother and ran into Kai. Pulling me aside, he got straight to the point: “You need to consider enrolling your little boyfriend in manners classes, teach him some etiquette.”

His snide tone made it clear Evelyn had complained to him, and Kai was here to defend his precious girl. I crossed my arms, unbothered, “Mr. Dawson, if you have something to say, say it straight. Where did you pick up this passive-aggressive attitude?” Kai looked a bit embarrassed but quickly regained his composure, “Evelyn truly loves this project. I helped her secure the main role because of that. Since you agreed to let her participate, don’t make things difficult for her. I always considered you a reasonable person. Don’t ruin that impression.” I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. For heaven’s sake, who’s making things difficult? I had better things to do. And it was Evelyn who started it, Gareth merely retaliated. But expecting Kai to be objective was wishful thinking. Defending your girl is natural. Seeing my silence, Kai continued, “I know seeing Evelyn and me together hurts you… I was wrong. I’ll make it up to you in other ways. But don’t take it out on Evelyn; she knows nothing. It’s me you should be mad at.” This sounded too much like those dramatic TV clichés, and I couldn’t stand it. Cutting him off, I fired back, “Mr. Dawson, we are long over. I have no lingering feelings for you. And I’ve never targeted your girlfriend. She added me as a friend, sent me your sleeping videos. I have no interest in your playtime preferences. I just care about my company.” “Evelyn… couldn’t have,” Kai looked genuinely confused, unable to believe his sweet girlfriend could be so petty. I pulled up my chat logs with Evelyn as proof. Seeing the evidence, Kai was dumbstruck. I continued, “Invest in a few acting classes for your girlfriend. As an actress, she should focus on honing her skills. Viewers can tell when actors aren’t putting in the effort. If you can’t bear to see her struggle, marry her and pamper her at home. Don’t rob hardworking people of their roles.” Ignoring Kai’s pale face, I walked away. A month later, “Misty Mist” wrapped filming. The distribution company was pleased and planned to release it during the lucrative New Year’s season. I also heard that Kai had arranged for Evelyn to get a Best Actress award. Since my family financed the film, I didn’t mind Kai adding some shine to it. Gareth’s manager suggested, “Let’s have Gareth contend for the Best Newcomer award too.” “Sure,” I agreed, “but let’s do it on merit. No buying votes.” “Got it. Even a nomination would be great for him at this point.” Believing that “character is fated to follow talent,” I was determined to guide Gareth on a steady career path. Shortly after, director Daniel Williams, an influential figure in international cinema, got impressed by Gareth through word of mouth. Known for resisting financial influence, Daniel auditioned Gareth, who landed a small part in one of his films. Even a minor role in a Daniel Williams film is an honor. While Gareth continued progressing steadily, Evelyn’s team bragged about only taking leading roles in major productions. Her next gig was in an S+ fantasy historical drama, supported by a slew of popular stars Kai paid for. When the cast was announced, Twitter blew up, labeling Evelyn a talentless resource hog. Kai had his PR team manage the backlash quickly, preventing it from escalating. Lily joked, “Evelyn lands the female lead while your Gareth plays a bit part. You’re tough on boys but spoil girls. You and Kai think alike in that way.” “”Actually, this part is perfect for Gareth. A good role, even a small one, can make a big impact,” I explained. “I prefer steady, genuine growth over artificial boosts.” Lily fully agreed, “You’re right; forced fame brings bad luck. Don’t take on a job you’re not ready for.” Little did I know, Lily’s words would come true…

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During our romantic getaway, my husband Jack impulsively recorded a 15-second intimate video of us. He meant to send it to me but accidentally posted it in our neighborhood SnapChat group instead. He frantically deleted it within 30 seconds. Little did we know, the neighbor’s kid had saved it. The boy curiously asked me: “Auntie, who’s that pretty lady Uncle Jack was hugging in bed?” For our first month of marriage, Jack and I both took annual paid leave and decided to fly to the Maldives for a romantic getaway. The crystal-clear waters of the Maldives were breathtaking. I went for a swim in my black bikini, my curves accentuated by the shimmering waves. “Babe, you look so hot,” Jack said with a grin, capturing the moment with his camera. Photography was Jack’s biggest hobby. He’d taken countless stunning photos of me since we started dating. That evening, after an exhilarating beach bonfire party, we retired to our $5,000-a-night luxury resort suite. We figured we should indulge since this was a once-in-a-lifetime trip. After showering, Jack eagerly embraced me from behind, whispering my name over and over. “Lena, I love you, I’ll love you forever… Will you call out my name like that when we make love?” I blushed and turned away. “You’re so shameless! What if someone hears us?” “Don’t worry, this fancy resort has top-notch soundproofing. You can be as loud as you want.” As we bantered, Jack got more excited and suggested recording a short video to commemorate the moment. If this had happened when we were just dating, I would have firmly refused. But now that we were married, I figured I could indulge my husband’s little fantasy. It was just a 15-second clip. After filming, he praised how “fair-skinned” I looked and said he’d send it to me. I checked my phone. “I didn’t receive anything. Did you forget to send it?” Jack quickly checked and slapped his forehead. “Crap, I posted it in the neighborhood group chat!” He hurriedly deleted it within 30 seconds. I panicked too. It would be mortifying if others saw such private footage. But a few people in the group had already seen it and teasingly commented on how pretty the woman looked. Seeing my anger, Jack hastily said, “Don’t worry, I only filmed your face and back. Nothing inappropriate was shown.” I blushed furiously. “They’ve all seen me before. Why are they suddenly calling me pretty?” “Maybe it’s because you’re glowing with happiness today, darling. Your inner beauty is shining through, so they naturally find you radiant.” “Smooth talker!” Even though he deleted it quickly, the incident still left me feeling uneasy. It dampened my mood for the last few days of our trip. Then one afternoon, I was taking a walk alone in our neighborhood when the 7-year-old boy from next door suddenly approached me with his phone. “Auntie! Auntie!” Since we were neighbors who often ran into each other, I thought he wanted to play. I bent down and asked what was wrong. To my surprise, the little boy pulled up a video and said he had saved it when Uncle Jack posted it in the group chat. “Auntie, who’s that pretty lady Uncle Jack was hugging in bed?” The woman’s face wasn’t clearly visible in the video, but it definitely wasn’t me. There was just a glimpse of parted red lips in profile. Her figure fit the slim Asian beauty standard perfectly. She was on all fours on the bed. Any adult could guess what was happening from that angle. And from the room layout, it was clearly the same resort we stayed at for our getaway! I frowned deeply. No wonder he chose the wrong video, given the similar angles. Could it be that Jack was having an affair with another woman during our romantic trip?

The small mole on the man’s abdomen confirmed it was indeed my husband. My husband cheating in the first month of marriage… Could anyone be more unlucky than me? I saved the video and deleted it from the boy’s phone, then bought him a lollipop. “The uncle and auntie in the video were just playing a game. Kids shouldn’t ask about these things. Don’t play with your mom’s phone so much in the future, okay?” The little boy skipped away happily. My smile froze as rage boiled inside me, feeling both humiliated and shocked. Jack had married into my family. Even the marital home with both our names was bought by my family… How dare he be so bold as to cheat on me? I stared at the woman in the video. She had a petite figure and fair skin in profile, looking quite young. I’d met all of Jack’s female colleagues and friends. This was clearly an unfamiliar face. I suspected she might be a hookup he found during the trip, but I wasn’t sure. After all, we were married now, and it would be hard to undo. If I rushed to divorce without solid evidence, I’d be at a disadvantage when dividing assets! Filled with resentment, I went to see my friend Mia who works in the beauty industry and showed her the video. She was shocked. “No way, weren’t you two on your honeymoon? He hooked up with another woman?” I fumed, “I know, right? This scumbag acts like such a loyal puppy in front of me, but he’s up to these tricks behind my back.” Mia pondered for a moment, then suddenly pointed at the video and said: “This woman used prosthetic makeup techniques. It’s not her real appearance.” As someone in the beauty industry, my friend easily spotted that the woman’s nose was sculpted with special effects clay. She even pointed out the details to me. I laughed bitterly. These days, women even use fake faces to cheat? How interesting. “Lena, don’t overthink it. That homewrecker will slip up eventually. You’re rich and beautiful anyway, ditching this scumbag won’t affect you much,” Mia reassured me solemnly. However, how could a bad marriage have no impact? Moreover, if I got divorced right after getting married, friends and family would surely mock me behind my back. I absolutely couldn’t let Jack get away scot-free. I had to catch solid evidence of his affair. To avoid alerting him, I acted normal when my husband came home that night, though I was already plotting how to investigate him. Unfortunately, before marriage we had agreed not to check each other’s phones to maintain trust and privacy, so I didn’t know his phone password. Before bed, I refused his advances. Jack was quite surprised. “Babe, we just got married and you’re already losing interest? Come on, look at other couples.” I made an excuse about being tired and said I wanted to turn off the lights and sleep. But my gaze was drawn to some racy videos on my husband’s phone screen. They were a series of voyeuristic short clips, all from a male point-of-view angle. The women in the videos were posed like puppets in various positions. Jack chuckled awkwardly. “This is from my buddy. Can you believe his lack of class, filming his own wife and sending it around? He’s sent me quite a few.” I couldn’t help but ask curiously, “Which buddy?” “My high school classmate Ryan. You met him at that small gathering before.” I seized the opportunity to ask to see his phone. Jack handed it over without hesitation. Sure enough, in his chat history with Ryan, there were several videos of Ryan’s wife. Although no private parts were exposed, it was still disgusting to film and share intimate videos. It was clear this couple enjoyed roleplaying, as the woman had different makeup and outfits each time. Could my husband’s affair partner be her? My suspicions grew, so I asked Jack to introduce me to his friend’s wife. To my surprise, my husband agreed readily. “Sure, it’s been a while since I’ve had dinner with Ryan anyway. I’ll set something up tomorrow so you can meet them.” At the barbecue dinner, I met Ryan’s wife for the first time. Her name was Lily. Though her features weren’t stunning, she had fair skin and ample cleavage peeking out from her camisole dress. “Nice to meet you, sister-in-law,” she greeted me shyly, blushing charmingly. I learned that she worked at the same beauty salon as my friend Mia. “Do you know Mia?” I asked. She shook her head in confusion. “I’m a beautician too, but I’ve only been working there for a month. I don’t know that sister yet.” Hearing she was a beautician, my heart skipped a beat as I recalled my friend mentioning “prosthetic makeup techniques”. So Lily also knew how to do special effects makeup and disguises… Could it be that Lily, seeking thrills but afraid of exposure, had disguised herself to hook up with my husband? I was startled by this bold idea, instantly imagining all sorts of scandalous scenarios. My face burned. I even thought of the comments under popular makeup transformation videos: “I really want to marry a makeup artist! Marrying her would be like marrying all the female celebrities in the entertainment industry.” “Getting this woman would be like having a whole harem!” Lost in wild speculation, Lily waved her hand in front of my eyes. “Sister, are you feeling unwell? Your face looks terrible.” I gave her a meaningful look and shook my head. “It’s nothing, probably just the barbecue smoke.” She quickly handed me a tissue to wipe my sweat, smiling when she saw my hands. “Sister, your hands are so beautiful, just like you. Wealth really shows, doesn’t it?” Only then did I notice how rough Lily’s hands were, quite at odds with her sweet appearance. They were clearly the hands of someone used to hard work. After some conversation, I learned that both Lily and Ryan came from poor rural backgrounds. She was a beautician and he was a manual laborer. The couple was struggling to make ends meet in the city, with no hope of affording a home anytime soon. I started to have doubts. Looking at her innocent demeanor, she probably didn’t even know her husband was sharing her videos around. Could such a naive girl really be a homewrecker who enjoys destroying other people’s marriages? To find out who that woman really was, I had an idea. If she was willing to follow me and my husband to our honeymoon resort, she must also be interested in other high-end hotels. I immediately booked a night at a new Japanese-style hot spring resort in the suburbs and sweetly said to Jack: “Honey, I didn’t get enough of our romantic getaway. This weekend, can we go soak in the hot springs?” Jack smiled. “Whatever makes you happy.” Looking at my husband’s gentle smile, I felt incredibly mocked. When it came to putting on an act, cheaters really were the best. On Saturday, we arrived as planned. This famous hot spring resort lived up to its reputation. The warm mist and blooming flowers created a perfect relaxing atmosphere that few women could resist. When we got to the hot spring, I pretended to take an urgent call and came back looking flustered. “Honey, something came up at work that I need to handle. I won’t be able to enjoy the hot spring today.” He asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Do you want me to drive you there?” I shook my head. “It’s fine, just some project issues my assistant can’t handle alone. I’ll have to work overtime today and sleep at the office. Why don’t you stay and enjoy the hot spring? No need to waste it.” Jack nodded reluctantly. “Alright babe, be safe.” I pretended to leave, but actually changed into different clothes and snuck back in. After anxiously waiting for about 15 minutes, the fish took the bait. A woman in an indigo wave-patterned kimono appeared hand-in-hand with Jack at the front desk, queuing to get their number. The woman’s kimono was loosely tied, revealing glimpses of her chest underneath. That fleeting side profile… was almost identical to the one I saw in the video! They took their number and disappeared into the crowd. In the hallway, I looked around cautiously and finally found our reserved room. I tiptoed towards the door. One step, two steps, three steps. The sliding door was pushed open a crack, warm yellow light seeping through. In the private hot spring, water splashed as Jack’s hands tightly gripped the woman’s slender waist, kissing her lips nonstop. The woman tilted her head back, enjoying his kisses while singing shamelessly like a siren. My heart sank. Because that familiar voice and petite figure were all too recognizable to me… Jack suddenly scolded her in a low voice, barely concealing his excitement. “Louder! You little minx.” 4 My friend Mia had studied music, and this was her favorite love song that she often hummed around me. My heart felt like it had been viciously torn to shreds, overwhelmed with pain. I never imagined that the two people closest to me would end up betraying me! Mia’s usually sallow face now looked as fair and delicate as jade, seemingly a decade younger. She giggled coquettishly: “Aren’t you afraid your wife will suddenly come back and catch us?” My husband possessively tightened his grip on her slim waist. “Not at all. She’s gone back to the office. It’s over 60 miles from here to downtown. She definitely won’t be back tonight.” Mia laughed softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I specially did the prosthetic makeup your wife has seen before. How’s that? Exciting enough?” Jack pinched her nose. “Don’t remind me of that. Last time we almost got caught. Good thing I was smart enough to use my buddy’s videos as a cover.” She stuck out her tongue and quoted her favorite TV show line: “If we’re going for thrills, might as well go all out.” They looked at each other and burst into unrestrained laughter. Talk about staying in character. I gritted my teeth and continued listening to see what other schemes this pair of dogs had in store for me. “You promised to divorce her right after the wedding… Then marry me. Have you forgotten?” “Baby, don’t rush. I’m just afraid divorcing too quickly would raise suspicions. Besides, my father-in-law promised to help with my promotion. That’s not settled yet.” Jack earnestly explained. As for why he liked the plain-looking Mia, he gave the answer himself. He said he liked that she could do all kinds of makeup transformations, giving him a fresh experience every time. Jack complained, “Baby, you’re so considerate. Unlike that Lena, always with the same boring look. She never makes a sound in bed either. I’m so sick of it.” “If it weren’t for her family background, I wouldn’t have deliberately pursued her. Marrying that dull woman would be such a waste of my life.” … I rubbed my temples and laughed bitterly. All the love and tenderness had just been an elaborate scam! Since I had booked the room, I could use the app to order water or herbal baths. In my fury, I decided to “spice up” their passionate encounter. I activated the automatic hot water feature, selecting 140°F water from the overhead shower. This temperature wouldn’t kill them, but it would certainly make for a “steamy” night. While they were passionately kissing and lost in the heat of the moment, scalding hot water poured over them from head to toe. Their amorous sounds abruptly ceased. “Ahh!” “F*ck! Where did this hot water come from? It’s burning me alive!”

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