Category: English

1 Nathaniel was a certified genius, admitted to an Ivy League at fifteen, associate professor by twenty-three. Seven years of marriage, and every Valentine’s, Christmas, anniversary, and birthday, he buried himself in thesis papers while I stared at walls. On our seventh anniversary, I cooked a lavish dinner and bought ninety-nine red roses. He sighed. “Charlotte, I know you’re hinting for flowers, but it’s a waste of time. Surely you’re not actually excited by the severed reproductive organs of a plant? Focus on new recipes. The steak was overcooked.” I swallowed my hurt, telling myself geniuses are wired differently. That excuse held until Chloe, a researcher a year younger than him, joined his department. Nathaniel started picking up his phone constantly. The day before my birthday, mopping the floor, he looked up and asked, “What do women nowadays actually like?” Hope flickered. “Roses,” I said softly. That joy died the next morning. Ironing ties in his study, I found a massive bouquet of ninety-nine red roses on his desk. Tucked in the center was a card in his immaculate handwriting: Chloe, Happy Birthday. … The grandfather clock chimed 7:15 AM. Nathaniel sat at the dining table exactly on schedule, cutting into his breakfast while reading a research paper, precise to the very second. “Don’t wear that tie today,” I said, my voice trembling slightly as I stared blankly at the flowers on the counter. “Which one should I wear, then?” “The burgundy striped one. Chloe mentioned the dark ones make me look a bit dated.” Nathaniel was incredibly rigid about his routines. His daily wardrobe was usually planned out weeks in advance. That burgundy tie was the wedding anniversary gift I had given him years ago. He had never worn it once, tossing it into the very back of his closet. But now, simply because another woman made an offhand comment, it was suddenly seeing the light of day. I switched off the iron, pulled out my chair, and sat down to eat. “I don’t have time to look for it. Plus, I don’t even remember where I put it.” For the first time all morning, Nathaniel actually looked up from his paper. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed his dark eyes. After a moment of silence, he stood up and walked into the bedroom himself. Ten minutes later, he walked back to the table, holding the burgundy tie out to me. Waiting for me to tie it for him. I kept my head down, stabbing a piece of fruit with my fork. Nathaniel pressed his lips into a thin line and clumsily tied it himself. When he sat back down, the sound of his knife scraping against the plate was a little louder than usual. “The steak is overcooked again today.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s been years, Charlotte. How do you still not know exactly how I like my steak? If you were one of my grad students, I would have expelled you by now.” I slammed my knife and fork down onto the table. I looked up at the crooked, hastily tied burgundy knot resting against his collar. “You can expel me right now. Let’s get a divorce.” Nathaniel’s brow furrowed in deep annoyance. “How old are you, Charlotte? You’re acting like a child. Threatening divorce just to get my attention? Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Do you even know what day it is today?” Nathaniel followed my gaze to the large calendar pinned to the wall, right to the date I had circled in thick red marker. [June 20th – Charlotte’s Birthday] He walked past that calendar dozens of times a day. Nathaniel let out a small, dismissive scoff. “I haven’t celebrated a birthday or holiday since I was five years old. It’s a pointless waste of time and energy.” I didn’t say a word. I just stared intensely at the blindingly red roses sitting on the counter. Nathaniel didn’t look guilty in the slightest. “Oh, is this about the flowers? Are you throwing a tantrum over that?” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Chloe is a colleague. She gave me a gift to celebrate my new paper getting published. It’s basic professional courtesy to return the favor for her birthday.” He stood up, walked over to the massive bouquet, precision-picked a single rose that was starting to wilt, and casually tossed it into the trash. “Next time, just say what’s on your mind. My time is extremely valuable. I don’t have the patience to play these passive-aggressive guessing games with you.” He grabbed his briefcase and walked to the entryway mirror. He paused, turned his head, and finally offered me what he considered a generous compromise. “Charlotte, come here and fix my tie.” I didn’t move. I sat there like a broken machine, methodically slicing the beef on my plate into tiny, meaningless pieces. Nathaniel finally lost his temper. He ripped the tie off his neck, threw it onto the floor, and walked out. The sound of the front door slamming echoed loudly through the empty house. I finally stood up, walked over to the entryway, picked up the burgundy tie, and threw it into the trash can right next to the wilted rose. I didn’t start my usual morning routine of cleaning the house. Instead, I walked back into the bedroom, opened my laptop, and typed Nathaniel’s name into the university’s publication database. Sure enough, a new paper had just been published. I clicked it open and scrolled straight to the acknowledgments section at the bottom. A certain Miss Chloe, who prefers to remain unnamed, complained that she has never been published in this journal and demanded I include her name. While I find the behavior incredibly childish, I suppose it’s not entirely impossible to accommodate. Thank you for the pastries you brought to the lab. They were quite good. The text on the screen started to blur. I thought back to the countless times I had begged him—sometimes joking, sometimes entirely serious—just to mention me in one of his acknowledgments. Every single time, I was met with the same icy rejection. “Absolutely not. An academic paper is not a place for your childish jokes.” In that moment, staring at the screen, I didn’t feel angry. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. I closed his paper and opened a blank word document. Key by key, I typed out the title. [Divorce Agreement] After drafting a basic framework for the division of assets, I emailed the document to a lawyer friend of mine. I ordered a small cake for myself and ate the entire thing in silence. I wiped my mouth and whispered to the empty room, “Happy thirtieth birthday, Charlotte.” Packing my things was almost pathetically easy. The master closet was completely dominated by Nathaniel’s custom suits and button-downs. My clothes barely took up a single corner. I had quit my job barely a year after college to become a full-time housewife, dedicating every waking moment to taking care of a genius who couldn’t even operate a washing machine. While reaching into the very back of the closet, my hand brushed against a worn notebook. On the cover, written in Nathaniel’s sharp, commanding script, were the words: To my wife—Charlotte. Nathaniel had always been devastatingly handsome and terrifyingly brilliant, but he was famously cold-blooded. On the first day of middle school, a girl had confessed her crush to him. He looked her up and down and flatly said, “You are very ugly.” His reputation was sealed from that day on. One afternoon, he got so engrossed in a math problem that he missed the lunch period entirely. I was sitting in the classroom eating my homemade bento box. Noticing him staring at my food, I asked purely out of politeness, “Do you want some?” He didn’t hesitate. He took my box and ate every last grain of rice. That very same night, Nathaniel marched up to my house alone, knocked on the door, and calmly told my mother he was going to marry me. He nearly gave her a heart attack. His “proposal gift” was a meticulously organized binder of all his study notes. “I’m going to be a professor at the state university. If you study these notes carefully and follow the daily schedule I’ve drafted for you, you should barely be able to get accepted there.” I never could have imagined that in eleven years of knowing him and seven years of marriage, that notebook would be the only gift he ever gave me. My phone rang, shattering my trip down memory lane. My mother-in-law’s piercing shriek blasted through the speaker. “My son is in the emergency room because of you! Where the hell are you?! Get your ass over here right now!” I didn’t have time to process it. I dropped everything and rushed to the hospital. When I arrived at the ER, Nathaniel’s mother spotted me, and her fury finally found its target. “What is wrong with you?! You know my son is deathly allergic to peanuts, and you purposefully bought a cake with peanuts in it?!” She stepped into my space, practically spitting in my face. “What do you get out of poisoning him?! Did you really need to celebrate your stupid little birthday that badly?!” Her screaming drew the attention of half the waiting room. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but before I could get a word out, Chloe stepped out of the patient room and gently took the older woman’s arm. “It’s okay, Mrs. Sterling. I’m sure Charlotte didn’t mean to do it on purpose.” Nathaniel’s mother glared at me with pure hatred. “If I had known you were this incompetent, I would never have let Nathaniel marry a piece of trash like you.” Chloe smiled, her tone soothing and perfectly composed. “Mrs. Sterling, his IV bag is almost empty. Do you mind finding a nurse to swap it out?” As soon as the older woman left, Chloe smoothly grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the private room. “I am so sorry, Charlotte. I had no idea Nathaniel was allergic to peanuts. I was the one who gave him a slice of my peanut butter birthday cake.” She let out a soft sigh. “I wanted to confess to his mother, but he explicitly forbade me from telling her.” Inside the room, Nathaniel was lying in the hospital bed, looking pale. He was casually scrolling through a tablet. I looked at him. “Nathaniel, do you have anything you want to explain?” He didn’t even lift his eyes from the screen. “You know how my mother is. If she finds out, she’ll go to the university and cause a scene, and it will disrupt the entire department.” He flipped to the next page. “Chloe isn’t like you. Her time and reputation are incredibly valuable. This was the most logical solution.” A sickeningly bitter taste flooded the back of my throat. Chloe is valuable. I am worthless. I deserve to be publicly humiliated and screamed at by your mother. I forced my voice to stay quiet. “I thought you prided yourself on being perfectly objective and fair?” When I was a senior in high school, Nathaniel was already in college. I worked myself to the bone just to get accepted into his university. When I got there, he actually became one of my professors. During his lectures, he would purposefully call on me for the hardest questions. When I inevitably struggled, he would ruthlessly humiliate me in front of the entire auditorium. “You can’t even solve a basic equation like this? Has the standard for admissions dropped this low?” He never gave me private tutoring. He never gave me study guides. He never bumped my grade by a single decimal point. Because, according to him, “That would be unfair to the other students.” It took me until today to realize that the heartless, objective Nathaniel Sterling was perfectly capable of showing blatant favoritism. I just wasn’t the one he favored. Nathaniel finally looked up at me, his eyes narrowing. “Did you forget to take your medication today, Charlotte?” Sensing the tension, Chloe immediately stepped in to play the peacemaker. “Nathaniel, don’t be so harsh on her.” She turned to me with an apologetic smile. “It’s entirely my fault. Charlotte, why don’t you tell me exactly what he’s allergic to so I know for next time?” Nathaniel rejected the idea instantly. “No. Don’t waste your time memorizing that. I’ll have her type it up into a spreadsheet and email it to you later.” He turned back to me, his tone shifting into his usual commanding bark. “Go home and pack me a change of clothes. Then make some porridge and bring it back. Bring three portions, not two.” I stared at him with complete, icy calm. I looked him dead in the eye and fed him the exact same line he used to reject me for years. “You need to schedule these requests in advance. I don’t have the time.” Nathaniel’s brow furrowed so deeply it looked like it might permanently crease. Before he could snap at me, his mother walked back into the room with a doctor, aggressively shoving her shoulder into mine to push me out of the way. Chloe gave me a brief, dismissive glance before pasting a bright, sweet smile onto her face to greet the older woman. The doctor was an old family friend. As he swapped the IV bag, he made polite small talk. “Is this lovely young lady your daughter-in-law? She has such a great presence.” “Oh, no,” Nathaniel’s mother said proudly, patting Chloe’s hand. “She is my son’s colleague. Also a brilliant professor at the university.” I purposefully walked as slowly as I could out the door and down the hall. But from the moment I turned my back until the heavy hospital doors swung shut behind me… Nathaniel didn’t utter a single word of correction. Nathaniel stayed in the hospital for two days. He didn’t text or call me a single time. I spent that time finalizing my packing and browsing apartment listings online. I no longer had to mold my life around Nathaniel’s psychotic sleep schedule. I woke up naturally whenever I wanted. I no longer had to rack my brain during dinner just to find a topic he deemed “intellectual enough,” only to be met with a condescending sneer. I no longer had to watch television with the volume on mute, terrified of being called “unproductive trash.” On the evening of his discharge, he finally sent a text. It was characteristically brief. The department’s celebratory dinner for the new publication is at the VIP room in the faculty dining hall. Come. In the past, whenever I begged to visit the campus, he flat-out refused, treating me like some embarrassing plague he needed to hide. My first instinct was to decline. But then I changed my mind. I had spent years making sure his entire life ran perfectly so he could focus on his research. A fraction of the credit for that publication belonged to me. Why shouldn’t I go? When I pushed open the door to the private room, the table was loud with laughter and clinking glasses. “To Professor Sterling and his lovely wife! Cheers!” The second I walked in, the cheering died instantly. One of the grad students lowered his glass, looking utterly confused. “Wait… all the guests are already here, aren’t they?” Chloe smoothly stood up from the seat next to Nathaniel, offering a graceful smile. “Oh, let me introduce everyone. This is Nathaniel’s actual wife, Charlotte.” The students instantly shifted awkwardly in their seats, murmuring embarrassed apologies and greetings. One of them whispered entirely too loudly, “But I saw Professor Sterling and Professor Chloe shopping at the mall together last week… I thought they were…” Chloe smiled gracefully and began to step away from her chair. “Here, Charlotte, take my seat.” Nathaniel spoke up for the first time since I walked into the room. “You stay right there. There’s no need to move.” Chloe immediately sat back down, looking effortlessly obedient. A young male student sitting to Nathaniel’s left hurriedly gave up his chair so I could finally sit down. Chloe reached over and handed me a clean set of silverware. “Please don’t misunderstand, Charlotte. The students were just joking when they called me his wife. Nathaniel and I played a married couple in the faculty theater production for the New Year’s gala last year.” One of the bolder students chimed in, laughing. “Romeo and Juliet! They even had a kissing scene! We watched them rehearse it a million times!” Chloe’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink. she glanced shyly at Nathaniel. “It was just a stage kiss. It was fake.” It sounded completely like a guilty conscience trying to cover its tracks. Nathaniel chuckled—a sound I hadn’t heard in years—and offered a casual explanation. “Professor Chloe caught a massive flaw in my data set. I promised her a favor in return. That was it.” I took a slow sip of my hot tea. I remembered last New Year’s Eve perfectly. I had begged and pleaded for weeks until Nathaniel finally agreed to go on a proper date with me. I booked an impossible reservation at a Michelin-star restaurant half a month in advance. The day of, he texted me saying he was “too busy” to make it. For the next two weeks, he came home well past midnight every single night. I had assumed he was buried under the weight of his research. I was too terrified of breaking his concentration to even send a single text asking when he’d be home. It turns out he was busy rehearsing kissing scenes with Chloe. For the rest of the dinner, the table buzzed with intense conversations about laboratory data, curriculum changes, and inside jokes about the faculty. I was completely, utterly isolated. I kept my head down and quietly ate my food. It turns out the highly praised faculty dining hall tasted like absolute cardboard. Halfway through the meal, one of the female grad students suddenly spoke up, her voice ringing clear over the chatter. “Professor Chloe really is the ultimate role model for modern women. Not only is she a genius researcher, but she also acts and paints traditional watercolors.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Not like those pathetic housewives who spend their entire lives revolving around a man without a shred of dignity. Women like that completely drag down the reputation of our gender.” Chloe shot a panicked glance in my direction. The girl immediately realized what she had said. Her face turned beet red. “Oh my god, Charlotte, I am so sorry. I totally didn’t mean it like that.” Nathaniel took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze sweeping over me with cold indifference. “Why are you apologizing? You were just stating a biological fact, weren’t you?” My fingernails dug so hard into my palms they almost broke the skin. I couldn’t endure another second of this suffocating room. I stood up and pushed my chair back. “You all enjoy yourselves. I have errands to run.” The cool night wind blew across the university track field, brushing against my hot cheeks. I had almost completely forgotten that years ago, Nathaniel—who despised physical exertion—used to sneak onto this exact track with me under the cover of night, holding my hand as we jogged together. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was my lawyer, sending over the finalized, legally binding version of the divorce agreement. A second later, Nathaniel’s name flashed across the screen with an incoming call. I declined it instantly. Deep into the night, a massive crash jolted me out of my sleep. Nathaniel stumbled through the front door, reeking of expensive liquor, his eyes completely unfocused as he collapsed onto the entryway rug. I immediately rushed over to help him up. He staggered to his feet, swaying heavily as he pointed a shaking finger at the large suitcase sitting by the door. “You knew. You knew the whole time.” I blinked, confused. “Knew what?” He fumbled around in his coat pocket and practically shoved two glossy concert tickets into my chest. They were VIP passes to see Taylor Swift. “It’s tomorrow. I took the entire day off work just to take you.” My eyes subconsciously flicked to the calendar on the wall. At the very bottom, written in tiny print, was a note: [If you absolutely can’t think of a gift, here is a hint: Chloe’s favorite artist is Taylor Swift.] Staring at the two tickets, I felt like an invisible hand had reached into my chest and crushed my lungs. It took me a long time to force three words past my lips. “It’s too late.” Drunk out of his mind, Nathaniel grabbed my wrist, staring at me with the desperate, stubborn eyes of a child. “How is it too late?! The concert is tomorrow!” I slowly shook my head. I reached out and gently took the tickets from his hand. I would treat it as his final goodbye. The next morning, Nathaniel woke up completely sober, reverting back to his usual, freezing demeanor. For once, he didn’t demand I pack his things and dragged his own bag to the door. “Let’s go. We’ll drive there.” It wasn’t until I walked out to the driveway that I realized Chloe was already sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, smiling warmly at me. “Professor Sterling drank a bit too much last night, so I offered to drive.” I wordlessly opened the back door and slid in, leaving the passenger seat entirely open for Nathaniel. Chloe expertly navigated the car onto the highway, her voice dripping with admiration. “Charlotte, you have no idea how brilliant he is. I mentioned casually that Taylor’s tickets were impossible to get.” She laughed lightly. “He spent two hours learning a new coding language, built a bot from scratch, and instantly secured three front-row VIP tickets.” Nathaniel glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “It wasn’t that complicated.” I let out a self-deprecating chuckle, closed my eyes, and pretended to fall asleep. I spent the entire three-hour drive listening to the two of them engage in endless, effortless banter. The stadium was absolutely deafening. Right before the opener started, the massive jumbotron began scanning the crowd for the Kiss Cam. By absolute pure coincidence, the camera swept right past me and locked directly onto Chloe and Nathaniel sitting next to each other. The entire section around us erupted into cheers. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Chloe looked at Nathaniel, her face flushed red with visible embarrassment. Nathaniel’s face darkened. He immediately raised his hand, signaling the camera operator to move on. The operator quickly got the hint and panned over to the next couple. The crowd roared even louder when they saw the new pair. Nathaniel tilted his head, his eyes lingering on the side of Chloe’s face for a second too long. The tips of Chloe’s ears burned bright red. She finally turned to look at me. “I am so sorry, Charlotte. We honestly didn’t plan that.” Nathaniel furrowed his brow, cutting her off. “Stop apologizing to her. She doesn’t care. Just focus on the show.” Right on cue, the stadium lights went completely black, and the opening chords blasted through the speakers. My quiet whisper—”It’s fine, it has nothing to do with me anymore anyway”—was completely swallowed by the music. The concert was breathtaking. The music dug deep into my bones. I closed my eyes, let the bass rattle my ribs, and without even realizing it, tears streamed silently down my face. When the show ended, the crowd surged toward the exits in a terrifying wave. For the very first time in public, Nathaniel reached out and grabbed my hand tightly. “Stay close to me.” But before we could take three steps, a sharp cry echoed from behind us. Chloe had been tripped by the crowd. She was sitting on the concrete, helplessly calling out Nathaniel’s name. He hesitated for barely two seconds before letting go of my hand and fighting his way backward through the massive crush of people. “Don’t move! Stay right there, I’ll be back!” I stood perfectly still, watching Nathaniel desperately grab Chloe’s hand and pull her up. But when he tried to turn back to find me, the surging crowd had already pushed us dozens of yards apart. It was the perfect metaphor for our entire marriage. It was doomed from the start. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I had a million things I wanted to scream at him. But I was done wasting Nathaniel’s precious time. I attached the signed divorce agreement to our chat, hit send, and blocked his number. I turned around, walked away from the stadium, dragged my suitcase out of the trunk of his car, and flagged down a passing cab. “Take me to the airport.”

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A thread was trending on a popular forum: “Why do some people stay friends after a breakup?” One girl replied with unmistakable smugness: “To put it simply, they’re still in love, but both are too proud to make the first move.” “Honestly, I quite enjoy his devotion, his special treatment, his love.” “If we hadn’t ruined things so badly during our long-distance phase, his current girlfriend wouldn’t even stand a chance.” My chest tightened. I clicked on her profile. It was Jenny, David’s ex. I had been with David for three years, and for those three years, Jenny had played the role of his “best bro.” She used that title to slowly worm her way into our lives, eventually moving into the apartment right below ours and even securing a job at David’s company. The two of them behaved more like a couple than he and I did. I screenshotted the post and sent it to David. He replied casually: “Just ignore her, she loves talking nonsense.” I let out a bitter laugh and left a comment on the thread. “Because both of them know exactly what they’re doing, but they’re just playing dumb.” 1 I walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. David was in the study. I couldn’t even remember when we had started texting each other despite being in the same house. Whenever I tried to talk to him about it, he’d defend it, calling it a way to keep things “steady and long-lasting.” But his idea of steady was simply refusing to engage. As I set my glass down, I noticed a ticket stub slipping out of David’s briefcase. The exhibition was titled “Nowhere to Belong.” It was a project he and Jenny had spent nearly every waking hour planning together. Clutching the stub, I pushed open the study door. “She usually insists on dragging me to these events just to make me feel small, so why didn’t she invite me to the grand opening this time?” David’s fingers slammed against his keyboard, the sound sharp and irritable. “Jenny only invited you in the past because she was worried you’d be bored at home,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. “Why do you have to be so sarcastic? Mind your own business and stop assuming the worst of people.” Two months ago, at their college reunion, Jenny had insisted I tag along. I sat there all evening while everyone huddled around them, dissecting their legendary campus romance in agonizing detail. Nobody noticed my chronic chest pain flaring up. Last month, on her birthday, she demanded David bring me along. At midnight, she was draped over him, acting completely wasted. Since I was the only one who hadn’t touched alcohol, I had to play the silent chauffeur, driving them both home. When we got back, David and I had a massive fight. I was on the verge of tears. “You two are exes. Is it really that hard to have some boundaries?” “What do you want me to do, pretend she doesn’t exist?” He looked at me, wearing that familiar mask of guilt. “We were broke back then, and she went through a lot of hardships with me. Now that I’m doing well, I just want to help her out when I can. It’s not easy for a single woman to make it in the city alone. You don’t understand that struggle. Besides, she’s like family to me now.” I wanted to laugh. Family? Since when did people date their family? David’s phone buzzed. He answered, gave a couple of brief replies, and glanced at me. “Jenny’s exhibition opens tomorrow, and she’s feeling anxious. I’m going downstairs to talk her through it. Want to come?” I walked right past him, slamming the bedroom door behind me. Ever since she moved downstairs, these calls had been constant. Sometimes, when she couldn’t reach him, she would march up and knock on our door, dragging him out of his study without a hint of shame. “You still haven’t fixed your habit of ignoring texts. I was worried sick! I’m so glad we broke up, otherwise being your girlfriend would have driven me insane.” I used to think there was some emergency. It turned out she just had too many packages and wanted David to carry them. David was usually a sharp, no-nonsense man, but he became a completely different person around her. No matter what she demanded, he listened meekly, almost desperately trying to please her. She was always his exception. Even introducing him to my parents had to take a backseat for her. The first time he planned to visit my family, Jenny sprained her ankle the day before. Without hesitation, he carried her to the hospital on his back and spent the next two months taking care of her. The second time we set a date, she called him crying, claiming her workload was too overwhelming. He spent three days and nights at her place, helping her finish her project. My parents were already deeply displeased, and I had to swallow my pride to make up excuses for him time and time again. A few days ago, he mentioned planning another visit to my family next week. But this time, I didn’t want to bring him home. 2 The next morning, David left early. Lately, he had been pouring every spare second into helping Jenny set up her exhibition. I took a cab there alone, needing to see for myself what this show was actually about. The space was styled beautifully, filled with old relics: matching couple sweaters, rings, watches, handwritten love letters, and travel tickets. It felt exactly like a Museum of Broken Relationships. My eyes stung. They had certainly gone to great lengths to publicly mourn their past. The final wall was covered in their old photos and videos, accompanied by dense, handwritten annotations. Around me, visitors were wiping away tears, while some wrote “I loved you” on a memory board. My chest tightened as a cold shiver ran down my spine. Last month, I had found an old, frayed scarf in our closet. I suggested throwing it away and buying a new one. David’s face had paled instantly as he snatched it out of my hands. The rough wool caught on my acrylic nails, pulling painfully. Only today did I realize that scarf was part of a matching set he shared with Jenny. I let out a hollow laugh and walked toward the corner of the gallery. David and Jenny were surrounded by reporters. My eyes instantly fell on the Chanel bag on Jenny’s shoulder. David had practically dragged me to the store to help pick it out, claiming it was to make up for the hardships she had suffered in the past. Standing in that boutique, I had felt incredibly out of place. Watching him meticulously compare the leather, color, and style, I felt a wave of envy and deep disappointment. He told me she had never owned one. Neither had I. Jenny stood slightly angled toward him, tilting her head and smiling up at David as she spoke. “This exhibition wouldn’t have happened without him. He was there for every little detail. Even though we tease each other constantly, he always shows up when it matters.” A reporter smiled, looking between the two of them. “You look quite similar. Are you siblings?” Jenny laughed, naturally slipping her hand around his arm. “Haha, maybe we have that married couple look. We used to date, but we realized we make much better friends.” The reporter steered the conversation toward the inspiration behind the exhibition. They bounced off each other, sharing stories of their past. Jenny looked deeply into David’s eyes. “Don’t let his calm exterior fool you. He’s incredibly soft-hearted. Right after we broke up, on my birthday, he took a two-hour train ride after work just to drop off a gift.” She kept her tone light and teasing. “He looked completely stoic when I opened the door, but later, he was sobbing his eyes out in the lobby downstairs.” David laughed sheepishly. “At that moment, I realized something. When it comes to marriage, you need to find someone suitable. We were meant to be friends.” Suitable. I let out a silent, bitter laugh, but it couldn’t numb the sharp ache in my chest. When I had once asked him why he pursued me, he had wrapped his arms around me. “You make me feel safe. You’re the kind of woman who is suitable for marriage.” I hadn’t thought much of it then. Now, the realization hit me. I had painted our relationship with a beautiful filter. The love I thought we shared meant nothing to him. I was just suitable. I stood there for a long time, staring blankly until the crowd dispersed and my vision finally cleared. David walked briskly toward me. “What are you doing here?” I forced a casual smile. “If I didn’t come, how would I know how unforgettable your love story was?” “Didn’t you two break up because of the long-distance? Well, you live in the same building now. If you can’t let each other go, why not just get back together?” His brows furrowed, suppressing his irritation. “If I really couldn’t let her go, you wouldn’t be the one standing next to me right now.” Before I could reply, a young woman peeked her head over. “How do you two know each other?” she asked, pointing between David and me. David gave me a subtle shake of his head. He was terrified I would say something to embarrass Jenny. “I’m his girlfriend,” I said clearly. The girl walked away, and her hushed gossip with her friend immediately drifted back to us. “Told you so! It’s a total love triangle, haha.” David glared at me, his voice a harsh whisper. “Today is about Jenny’s exhibition. Stop drawing unnecessary attention to our private lives. Do you have to make everything about yourself?” So that was how he saw me. Simply stating the truth was a crime. “Go cool off,” he said, walking away with Jenny. I slipped my promise ring off my finger and tossed it into a nearby trash can. When David first slid it onto my finger, he had joked, “Now that you’re caught, you can’t run away.” It was just a casual remark to him. How had I been foolish enough to believe it? 3 Before I even made it out of the exhibition hall, my phone buzzed. My boss sounded thrilled. “Have you heard about the ‘Nowhere to Belong’ show? Apparently, she curated it with her ex-boyfriend, like a Museum of Broken Relationships. This topic is guaranteed to go viral. Go check it out and write up a feature.” I gripped my phone case, biting my lip. “Sure.” As I hung up, a sharp pain shot through my chest. I leaned against a nearby pillar, struggling to breathe. I needed to go to the hospital again. That afternoon, as I stepped out of the examination room, I spotted David on the first floor. He was kneeling, gently holding Jenny’s calf with one hand while pressing her knee with the other. “Does it hurt here, or here?” Jenny looked up, her eyes locking onto mine. She immediately shifted into a protective stance. “He just happened to have free time to accompany me for a checkup. Don’t go misinterpreting things and starting another fight with him.” David stood up, offering a hurried explanation. “Jenny’s meniscus is acting up again. It started hurting during lunch.” He paused. “It’s an old injury from years ago when she worked extra shifts to help me pay off loans. Standing all day ruined her joints.” He was always like this. Once he started talking about Jenny, he couldn’t stop. Noticing my silence, he finally changed the subject. “What are you doing at the hospital anyway?” “My chest has been hurting.” Jenny cast a dismissive glance at my chest. “Just watch your sleep and diet. The more you stress over minor things, the worse you make it for yourself.” David nodded in agreement. “She’s just too delicate. Going to bed early is better than any medicine.” I had told him about my congenital heart condition before, but he didn’t remember. In the past, I would have picked a fight over this. Now, I just felt numb. I turned and walked away without a word. When I got home, I immediately began packing my suitcase. If I didn’t clear out of the apartment, I’d just be overstaying my welcome. My phone chimed. It was my boss, pressing for the article. “It’ll be best if you include their past history and their current relationship status.” Their current status was that Jenny would always be David’s top priority. He used to reassure me: “Once Jenny gets a boyfriend, I’ll step back.” But when she finally did date someone, the guy ended up taking advantage of her. The usually rational, level-headed David had stormed over, beaten the guy up, and landed himself in the police station. I was the one who had to go bail him out. The first thing he asked when he stepped out of the cell was, “Is Jenny okay?” Worrying that her old neighborhood wasn’t safe, he went ahead and leased the apartment directly below ours for her. The sound of the electronic lock broke the silence. David walked in, kicking off his shoes as he asked about my hospital visit. I stood up. “Let’s break up.” His expression shifted. “What are you on about now?” I ignored him, zipping my suitcase and dragging it into the living room. He threw his hands over the bag, pinning it down. “Is this about Jenny again? Are you mad because I helped with her show, or because I went to the hospital with her? I’ve told you a thousand times, we—” “You two are completely innocent,” I interrupted. “I just don’t want to be with you anymore. Is that clear enough?” He let out a weary sigh, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You always target her. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re the problem here?” I froze. He had never spoken to me like this before. He used to tell me how lucky he was to have found me. Suddenly, his ringtone shattered the silence. Jenny’s voice came through the speaker. “The bathroom light won’t turn on. Can you come take a look?” “I’ll be right down,” David replied. He looked at me. “Wait here. We’ll talk when I get back.” I watched the door click shut, wanting to laugh. Even when we were breaking up, he could be pulled away by her minor inconvenience. I had waited for three years. I wasn’t going to wait any longer. As the elevator descended, my heart sank with it. My pulse slowed, as if trying to make up for all the extra beats it had wasted on him. I checked into a hotel, intending to resign as soon as I turned in the article. For two days, David made no effort to contact me. Jenny, however, was highly active on social media. She posted a photo of the two of them laughing on an amusement park pirate ship. She was holding David’s hand tightly, and the promise ring on his finger was gone. David had once told me he was terrified of heights and would never ride a pirate ship in his life. Men certainly loved using the phrase “in my life.” And they were incredibly good at forgetting. Jenny’s caption was particularly striking: “How to recall an ex in three easy steps.” I left a comment: “What kind of prize is worth recalling anyway?” 4 After turning in my resignation letter, I booked an evening flight. I was walking through the hotel lobby to buy a bottle of water when I saw David marching toward me. I realized I had forgotten to turn off our location-sharing app. He looked incredibly tense, as if the world was ending. The moment he stopped in front of me, his first words were: “You need to record a clarification video right now.” “Tell everyone you and Jenny are close friends, and that she never came between us.” I stared at him, momentarily stunned. “What?” He shoved his phone in front of my face. The comments section of a viral gossip page was tearing Jenny apart. “Are we rebranding home-wrecking as high art now?” “Hilarious. In that interview, she looked like she wanted to crawl into his skin.” “Her social media got leaked. She actually shared a post on ‘how to recall an ex.’ What a joke.” David was practically hyperventilating. “That girl from the exhibition wrote about us online, calling it a love triangle, and it went viral! It’s all fabricated lies. You need to record a video and clear her name.” I looked at him for a long, quiet moment. “No.” His eyes darkened instantly. “What did you say?” I took a step back. “This has nothing to do with me. Besides, isn’t Jenny the exact reason we’re over? If you care about her so much, go post your own clarification.” His anger flared, nearly boiling over. “If a statement from me worked, do you think I’d be begging you? Jenny has been crying since this morning. How is she supposed to handle this kind of abuse? If you hadn’t blurted out that you were my girlfriend, none of this would have happened!” I didn’t want to argue anymore, so I kept quiet. “Audrey.” He rarely used my full name. “This is serious. If you don’t record this video, we are truly finished.” I let out a tired laugh. How could he threaten me with something I had already walked away from? “We were finished two days ago.” I walked past him and headed into the convenience store. When I reached for a bottle of water, my hands were shaking. I thought I was emotionally prepared for this, but the coldness of his betrayal still stung. Before heading to the airport, I realized my passport was still at David’s apartment. I had the driver make a quick detour. When the apartment door opened, Jenny was standing there. She was wearing an oversized button-down shirt that belonged to David, her damp hair draped over her shoulders. I had bought that shirt for David last year. I could hear the shower running in the bathroom. Jenny blocked the doorway, looking down at me. “You still have the nerve to show up here?” I pushed past her without looking at her. “Just grabbing my things.” As I retrieved my passport and walked out, I noticed Jenny’s luggage sitting in the hallway. They really couldn’t wait. Jenny leaned against the doorframe, tilting her head with a smug smile. “After looking around, I still think David is the best.” She chuckled. “He hasn’t lost his touch in bed, either.” My fingers clenched around my passport. “You’re blocking the door,” I said, keeping my voice entirely flat. On the surface, I was calm, but my throat felt as if a fishbone were lodged in it, making it difficult to swallow. Sitting in the back of the cab, I stared blankly at the passing streets. For the first time, I realized how incredibly foolish I had been to love him. My hand brushed against a small, hard object in my bag. It was a transparent pill organizer. Each compartment held different tablets, labeled in neat, handwritten script: allergy meds, cold medicine, motion sickness pills, and my heart arrhythmia medication. David had put it together for me three years ago before my first business trip. I had forgotten it was even in my bag. Three years. The medicine inside was probably long expired. The car moved smoothly through the intersection, heading in the opposite direction of everything we had built. I unlocked my phone, deleted David’s contact info, and blocked his number. It was finally over.

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1 For seven years, my captain and boyfriend Hector adhered to a strict rule: no private coaching sessions, no staying out overnight. He broke that rule the very night online trolls photoshopped my obituary photo and demanded my retirement from professional e-sports. Hector was known across the league for his icy self-discipline and stoic personality. He never gave outsiders the time of day, reserving all his warmth for me. Yet, the person he broke his sacred rule for was my own apprentice, Judy. While I sat alone in our dark, empty training room undergoing a mental breakdown, Hector spent the entire night at an e-sports hotel with Judy. They ran private dual-carry scrims together until the scandal on social media finally blew over. I did not throw a fit, nor did I shed a tear. I simply asked for a breakup. For the first time in seven years, Hector turned a cold face toward me. “The summer league starts next week. I am trying to stabilize our roster. Must you pick right now to throw a temper tantrum?” Judy stood beside him, lowering her head in quiet agreement. “Coach Sierra, please do not be so emotional. Making a scene right now destroys the professional future of our entire team.” I fell instantly silent, watching Hector with stinging eyes. That night, after returning home, I dialed the personal number of the captain of our rival team. “Three years ago, you asked if I would ever join your squad,” I said, my voice dead calm. “Does that offer still stand?” … Logan answered without a second of hesitation. “Name the day. My door is open whenever you are ready.” “The transfer must remain strictly confidential,” I continued. “No one can know until it is finalized.” “Understood.” Three years ago, after I led Team LV to our very first national championship, Logan pursued me through five consecutive tournament cycles to sign me. Back then, my eyes were blinded by my loyalty to Team LV and my love for Hector. The moment I hung up, my phone vibrated. A single text from Hector popped up on my screen. Two cold words: Open up. I looked through the window and spotted the sports car parked below. It was the celebratory car we had picked out together after winning our first trophy. For seven years, he and I were the most envied power couple in the e-sports world, celebrated by fans as the unmatchable Dual Carries. Reserved as he was, he had once ripped into toxic stream chatters on my behalf, unable to tolerate a single word of slander directed at me. All his tenderness and devotion belonged exclusively to me. Yet even the deepest devotion could be tossed aside for someone else. After a long struggle, I stood up and unlocked the door, a faint sliver of hope still clinging to my heart. When he walked in, my blood ran cold. Hector maintained his usual detached posture. He sat on the couch, staring intently at his phone as he reviewed the telemetry data from his overnight scrims with Judy. He reached out toward the coffee table for his wristband out of habit. I instinctively picked it up to hand it to him, only to notice a bright pink wristband already wrapped around his forearm. It was not something I had bought him. The moment our fingertips brushed, he seemed to snap out of his trance and pulled his hand back instantly. I stared at the pink wristband, my mind going numb. A moment later, as if trying to break the heavy silence, he pulled a limited-edition gaming plush charm from his coat pocket. “Stop being upset.” A man who never bowed his head to anyone was making a rare effort to appease me. I took the charm without saying a word. It was a character design I had never liked. Then, his offhand remark smashed the last remaining piece of my hope to dust. “I need you to look over Judy’s telemetry data. As long as we keep her performance consistent, we are guaranteed a spot in the finals next week. You are the master shotcaller for Team LV, analyzing this data should be child’s play for you.” The plush charm slipped from my fingers, hitting the hardwood floor with a sharp click that sounded painfully loud in the silent apartment. I stared at him, finding the situation absurd. “She plays my position. What am I supposed to play?” Hector’s expression shifted into something unreadable, though his tone remained strictly business. “Your recent form has been shaky. Private scrims with Judy were a necessity. I have already reported to management that you will temporarily step down to the bench.” A necessity? My mind dragged me back through the years. Seven years ago, when I first entered the professional scene and faced harassment from male players, Hector had taken a stand before the team. From this day on, my training room only has room for Sierra. I will protect her. Now, he was shattering his own oath for Judy. “You trained her yourself,” Hector added, frowning in frustration at my silence. “Her playstyle and macro instincts align well with mine. Sierra, this is not the time to act out. You need to look at the bigger picture.” I could not bring myself to smile. “Looking at the bigger picture means kicking me out of it?” He froze, his voice stiffening. “That is not what I meant.” Before he could finish, his phone screen lit up with a barrage of notifications from Judy. obedient, eager, humble text messages. Hector sat right in front of me, replying to every single text with painstaking patience. In seven years, he had never replied to my messages line by line like that. “Sierra, you are being overly narrow-minded,” he murmured, laying his phone down after reading her latest text. A flicker of disappointment touched his eyes. A tight knot squeezed my throat. On the night I was tormented by the entire internet, flooded with photoshopped obituaries and vicious demands for my retirement, he was running private scrims with Judy. While I collapsed alone in a dark facility into the late hours of the night, receiving zero replies to my messages, he was breaking down vods for Judy. He knew everything I was going through. Yet he called it looking at the bigger picture. His bigger picture had always been built on top of my silent breakdown. Seeing my deathly pale face and utter silence, Hector’s heart softened slightly. He walked into the kitchen, warmed a glass of milk, and placed it on the table in front of me. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Be a good girl. Bear with it for now. Once the summer league is over, your starting position will be waiting for you.” The warm touch sent a shudder through my frame. I almost gave in, just like the countless times in the past when a simple gesture from him would make me forgive everything. But then my mind flashed back to the endless stream of hate messages urging me to kill myself, the black-and-white graphics, and the cruel AI photos. I forced the urge to forgive back into the dark. Interpreting my silence as stubbornness, the warmth in Hector’s eyes vanished, replaced by an icy distance. “Do not let your petty grudge ruin Team LV.” I read the unspoken accusation behind his words. A few days ago, after a devastating match loss where I solo-defended our base until the final second while my team was wiped out, the internet had turned on me. Sierra needs to retire already! Stop dragging Captain Hector and Team LV down! How can someone call herself a god-tier shotcaller with plays like that? Go home and play house! Judy and Hector are the real Dual Carries! Sierra does not belong there! No one cared that the loss was caused by Judy recklessly engaging without my call, or that my teammates had ignored my retreat pings. The entire weight of the blame was dropped onto the shoulders of the mid-lane shotcaller. I let out a hollow laugh. Seven years of blood, sweat, and tears could not buy a shred of understanding from them. Why should I keep degrading myself for their sake? My heart sank into a quiet, undisturbed calm. The lingering memories of the past seven years cut through my chest with a dull, throbbing pain, but the fever had finally broken. At the team meeting the following morning, the head coach formally announced the starting lineup for the upcoming season. My starting mid-lane position was assigned to Judy. Judy stood up, looking overwhelmed with gratitude and modesty. “Thank you all for your trust. I will not let the team down, especially my mentor, Coach Sierra.” She bowed her head, playing the part of a humble, grateful pupil to perfection. Hector sat across from me, leading the applause. His eyes swept over my composed face. Seeing no outrage or resistance, he let out a quiet sigh of relief. He thought I had finally come to my senses. I thought I had accepted it, too. But when my gaze landed on the bag sitting beside Judy, my heart twisted into a sharp knot. Hanging from her zipper was a plush charm from the exact same limited-edition brand Hector had given me the night before; only hers was a customized, highly detailed main-character edition. I remembered what he had told me two years ago. Anything I give you will be one of a kind in this world. His devotion had been divided into two shares long ago. I began counting down in my head. Three more days, and I will never have to step foot in this place again. During morning practice, I completely disengaged. I spoke no words, offered no shotcalls, and led no plays. I sat in the furthest corner of the room, completely still. Behind me, my teammates offered no effort to hide their disdainful whispers. “Sierra is clearly just bitter that Judy has more natural talent than her.” “A high-maintenance princess who expects the whole team to pamper her could never compete with someone as sensible as Judy.” “Judy is way more mature.” My face remained expressionless, though a dull ache resonated in my chest. I was the one who had dragged this organization from the brink of collapse to the top of the league. Every draft strategy, every telemetry breakdown, every macro system had been built through my sleepless nights. In the end, I had become nothing more than an eyesore to them. Hector sat at the head of the table, offering not a single word in my defense. He knew better than anyone how much of my life I had poured into this team. After everyone left the room, Judy walked over to my desk, feigning concern. “Coach Sierra, it is all my fault. Please do not be mad at the guys. Once your form recovers, I will happily give the starting spot back to you.” Hector frowned, speaking up immediately. “You do not need to apologize to her, Judy. She is choosing to slack off and throw a fit. The team does not need to waste time accommodating her ego.” I said nothing. The quieter I remained, the colder his face became. Since I refused to bow my head, he was determined to push me until I broke. “Judy, pack your gear,” Hector said in an unyielding tone. “We are going to my private facility at home for specialized training.” My head snapped up, my eyes locking onto his. That private facility was where he and I had spent countless nights grinding through our lowest points. It was our sanctuary, an unwritten promise that only he and I were allowed inside. Every piece of equipment, every bit of data, and every memory of our seven-year career was stored in that room. Now, that space no longer belonged to just the two of us. A bitter wave of nausea rose in my chest. Judy could barely conceal the triumph in her eyes, though she maintained her hesitant act. “Captain Hector, is that really okay? Everyone knows your private room is strictly reserved for Coach Sierra…” Hector ignored her, offering me a cold, bitter smile. His eyes flared with suppressed anger. “Since Sierra clearly does not care about me anymore, I am sure she will not mind you using it.” I knew what he was doing. He was trying to force me to yield, just like every argument we had over the past seven years where I was always the one to apologize first. Suddenly, an overwhelming exhaustion washed over me. I looked straight into his eyes, forcing down the pain in my chest, and spoke in a flat voice. “Whatever.” Hector froze, entirely unprepared for my indifference. A flicker of panic flashed across his eyes, but it was instantly swallowed by a wave of cold resentment. “Fine,” he said, his tone dripping with retaliation. “In that case, the center spot on the promotional poster, the media interview slots, and the main feature spot for the summer league will all be handed over to Judy.” Judy’s eyes practically sparkled with joy. “Oh, is that really okay?” That center spot was something I had fought for during the playoffs, playing through a high fever to deliver a tournament-topping MVP performance. My dream had always been to stand at the very center of the team, representing our squad on the grandest stage. He remembered every single one of my dreams. And he was handing them to someone else just to hurt me. He knew exactly where to twist the knife to make me cry and beg for his mercy. My hands clenched into tight fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they left dark red crescents. I forced the lump in my throat down into silence. “Okay.” His face went completely pale with anger, and he turned and walked out without another word. The moment the door closed, Judy dropped her gentle mask. She leaned down to my ear, her voice dripping with malice. “Mentor, the movement patterns, macro strategy, and laning concepts you taught me are working wonderfully. I used them to steal your man’s heart and your team’s loyalty. Are you proud of me? After all, you were the one who brought me here.” A strange sense of detachment washed over me. No anger. No hatred. I felt completely drained of energy, left with nothing but an icy numbness. I had thought I was mentoring a promising talent, lifting her up to succeed me. It turned out I had spent years nurturing a snake in my own house. Judy’s smile broadened. She was not afraid of me making a scene, because she knew Hector and the team would always shield the agreeable, sensible girl over me. “Why?” I asked softly. “Do you really think I was just a random rookie you happened to discover?” She leaned in closer, a bitter glint in her eyes. “I have been waiting for this day for seven years. Back when Captain Hector flamed his stream chat to defend you, I was the main hater he publicly humiliated.” She straightened up, adjusted her modest expression, and skipped lightly out of the room. I sat alone on the edge of the desk in the empty facility, swallowed by the silence just like the night I was abandoned. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Let us move up the schedule.” Logan looked exceptionally sharp, his hair styled neatly. “The contract is finalized,” he said, checking his watch before offering a warm smile. “We have plenty of time. Let me buy you dinner before we sign.” I did not decline. I was simply too exhausted. We walked side by side down the brightly lit commercial street, cooled by a gentle evening breeze. For seven years, every day spent beside Hector had been a tightrope walk of high stress, maintaining the team and chasing our dream. I had forgotten how light it felt to simply exist. Turning a corner, two familiar figures stepped into view. Hector walked ahead with a cold expression, lost in thought. Judy followed closely behind him, keeping a respectful yet intimate distance. When our eyes met, my blood felt like it froze in my veins. The suppressed agony flooded back in an instant. Hector’s gaze darted between Logan and me, his eyes frosting over with cold contempt. Judy’s eyes immediately welled with tears as she whimpered quietly beside him. “Captain Hector, is Coach Sierra mad at me for taking her spot? Is that why she brought the captain of Team VT here to make us jealous?” She left the rest unsaid, but the implication was crystal clear. A mocking smirk touched Hector’s lips as he closed the distance between us, his eyes filled with a storm of dark emotions. “You really are something, Sierra. You get upset, so you hire another man to back you up just to get a reaction out of me?” My body went rigid. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I was too tired to explain anything to him anymore. In Hector’s eyes, my silence and resignation were taken as a full confession. “I gave you step after step to back down. I tolerated your drama again and again, only for you to run to another man?” His voice cut through the air. “Well done, Sierra. Truly well done.” Every word was a twisted narrative of self-victimization. Every phrase accused me of failing the team. I bit my lower lip hard, burying the humiliation and heart-wrenching disappointment deep inside, forcing myself to maintain an unbroken composure. Just half a day left. Tomorrow morning, I will be free of all of this. Hector let out a cold laugh, reaching out to pull Judy gently into his arms. “Fine. Have it your way. I will fulfill your wish.” He turned and walked away with Judy, his back rigid and unyielding. Watching him walk away, my feet instinctively took half a step forward before I forced myself to freeze in place. Logan gently stepped beside me, handing me a napkin from his coat. His voice carried a rare edge of suppressed fury. “Are you alright, Sierra? Is this really how they treat you every day?” It was only then that I realized tears had already breached my eyes. I took a deep breath, accepted the napkin, and wiped my eyes carefully. “I am fine. Let us go.” The last lingering warmth of our seven-year relationship burned out completely, leaving behind nothing but cold ash. On the night Hector broke his sacred rule for Judy, allowing her to become the only person besides me to share his private space, the man who once cared for me had been killed by his own hands. This seven-year chapter was officially closed. Inside Team VT’s executive office, I held the pen above the signature line, pausing for a brief second. Logan poured me a hot cup of tea, careful not to rush me. Through the reflection in the glass, I could see his hands tightly clenched, looking far more anxious than I was. I lowered the pen and signed my name. The moment I handed the contract back to Logan, my phone screen lit up with a notification from Hector: Sierra, I miss you. My grip on the paper tightened slightly. Noticing the tension, Logan looked up. “Is something wrong?” His eyes followed my gaze to the notification glowing on the glass table. His shoulders went tense, his voice laced with an unintentional trace of heartbreak. “Are you… having second thoughts?” I shook my head, releasing my grip and letting him take the document. I had never felt more certain about a decision in my life. Logan reviewed the signature once more before letting out a long, relieved sigh. It was truly over. In the secondary bedroom of the Hector estate, Judy sat on the plush sofa with a dark, calculating glint in her eyes. Her fingers moved rapidly across the screen of Hector’s phone, deleting the message she had just sent to my line. She locked the device, placed it back on the nightstand, and quietly glided back to her gaming chair. The bedroom door opened a second later. Her timing was flawless. Hector walked in carrying a plate of fresh fruit, setting it down beside her desk. “Here is the lychee you asked for. I will review this final vod with you, and then you need to head home.” Judy dropped her chin, pouting playfully. “Captain Hector! Didn’t we agree that we were going to spend the night reviewing plays in your private room? I still have so many questions for you!” Looking at her cute, energetic expression, Hector experienced a sudden wave of disorientation, briefly seeing the image of a younger me from seven years ago. Back then, I used to look at him with bright, shining eyes, promising to take him to the national championship. An intense wave of anxiety surged through his chest, but he quickly dismissed it. “No,” Hector said firmly. “Let us finish the vod.”

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I paid my private security three hundred grand a year, and he just slapped me across the face in front of twenty people. After he struck me, he looked right at my wife. Valerie was holding a glass of red wine. she smiled at her so-called guy best friend. “Are you less angry now?” Her best friend adjusted his platinum cufflinks and gave a satisfied nod. I did not feel the pain in that moment. All I felt was the crushing realization that in this marriage, I was treated worse than a stray dog. I clenched my fists. I decided right then and there that starting today, I was taking back every single thing I had ever given her. Piece by piece. 1 When the slap landed on my left cheek, I did not hear the crack of the impact. What I heard was the collective gasp of everyone in the room. There were over twenty people in the VIP lounge. Some were my business partners. Some were Valerie’s socialite girlfriends. The rest were friends brought by Dominic, her platonic guy best friend. Bruno hit hard. When you pay a bodyguard three hundred thousand dollars a year, you expect them to pack a punch. My head snapped forty-five degrees to the side. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. I did not move. I stared at the highly polished marble floor. It reflected my face perfectly. The left side of my jaw was already swelling. “Adam, are you okay?” someone whispered. It was my executive assistant, Simon. He stood a few feet away, his face pale with shock and fury. I slowly lifted my head. Valerie was lounging on the velvet sofa, her legs crossed, a red stiletto dangling from her heel. She tilted her wine glass, gesturing toward Dominic. “Well? Do you feel better?” Dominic, wearing a tailored cashmere coat, smoothed out his cuffs with agonizing slowness. “Barely,” he chuckled. “Tell your husband to watch his attitude next time. I do not like the way he looks at me.” I shifted my gaze to Valerie. She did not even glance my way. Her eyes were entirely glued to Dominic. I knew that look all too well. It was pure, desperate flattery. She looked at him not like a friend, but like a master she was terrified of upsetting. Bruno stood next to me. His head was bowed, his massive hands trembling slightly. “Boss, I am so sorry,” he muttered under his breath. “Mrs. Valerie said… if I did not hit you, she would make you fire me and blacklist me from the security industry.” I did not look at him. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with my thumb. I stood up straight. The room was so dead silent you could hear the hum of the AC unit. My business partners were staring at their phones or their shoes, desperately avoiding eye contact. Not a single person spoke up for me. Of course they did not. In their eyes, Adam being a total pushover for his wife was old news. I had tolerated it for three years. It started when Valerie first called me a useless coward in front of our friends. It escalated when she used my credit card to buy Dominic a birthday present. It peaked when she kicked me out of our master bedroom and forced me to sleep in the study. I endured it for three entire years. I genuinely believed that if I compromised enough, I would eventually earn her respect. I thought that if I drowned her in wealth and luxury, she would wake up and realize who actually loved her. But tonight, she ordered the bodyguard I paid for to slap me across the face. In front of twenty people. Just to stroke another man’s ego. I took a deep breath. The string that had been pulled taut in my chest for three years finally snapped. “Simon,” I said. My voice was eerily calm. My assistant immediately stepped forward. “Yes, Boss.” “Bring the car to the underground garage. Wait for me there.” “Understood.” As Simon turned away, I saw his knuckles turn white from gripping his phone so hard. I did not spare Valerie another glance. I turned on my heel and walked out. From behind me, Dominic let out a loud, mocking laugh. “He is leaving? He does not even have the guts to say a word? Valerie, your husband is such a…” “Dominic,” Valerie interrupted, her voice dripping with amusement. “Leave it. That is just how he is. I am used to it.” Just how he is. Used to it. I did not break my stride. I walked out of the lounge, down the corridor, and stepped into the elevator. As the steel doors slid shut, I reached up and touched my left cheek. It was hot and swollen. Did it hurt? Yes. But the pain in my chest was infinitely worse. It felt like a vital organ had been violently ripped out of my ribcage. I stood in the elevator for a few seconds. Then I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Lawyer Reed. Be at my office tomorrow morning at ten.” “Adam? It is late. Did something happen?” “I am getting a divorce.” The line went dead silent for two seconds. “…Understood. I will be there at ten.” I hung up. My heartbeat was steady. Steadier than it had been in three years. 2 I did not go home that night. I had Simon drive me to corporate headquarters. I slept on the leather sofa in my office. Well, I tried to sleep. Mostly, I just stared at the ceiling and thought. When did my marriage to Valerie become this toxic? Probably two years ago. Right around the time Dominic entered the picture. Dominic was a trust fund kid who studied abroad and ran a mediocre import business. He was smooth-talking, well-dressed, and endlessly charming. Valerie swore they were just college buddies. A purely platonic friendship. I believed her. Then this “platonic friend” started taking my wife out for dinner, coffee, and art exhibits three times a week. I brought it up once. Valerie smashed my favorite coffee mug against the wall. “Can you stop being so insecure? He is my friend! Are you just paranoid that everyone wants to sleep with me?” I dropped the subject. Later, she started using my supplementary black card to buy Dominic gifts. An eight-hundred-dollar leather belt. Twelve-hundred-dollar designer sneakers. A thirteen-thousand-dollar Rolex. I gently told her it was inappropriate. Valerie just gave me a look of pure disgust. “You make millions. What is wrong with spending a little pocket change? Dominic has helped me through so much. I cannot even buy him a thank-you gift? You are so cheap it is embarrassing.” Cheap. I kept my mouth shut. Not long after, I was evicted from my own bedroom. Her excuse was that I snored and ruined her sleep. I had never snored a day in my life. I was just exhausted. My company was closing a massive acquisition, and I had pulled all-nighters for two weeks straight. My body was giving out, and I might have snored a few times. She could not tolerate it for a single night. I moved my clothes into the study. From that moment on, our marriage devolved into a business transaction. She spent my money, lived in my penthouse, drove the cars I bought, and swiped her way into the elite country clubs I paid for. And what was my return on investment? Public humiliation. Being treated like a servant by her male best friend. Getting slapped by my own payroll security. I sat up. The sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was getting light. Seven-thirty in the morning. I booted up my laptop and pulled up every single financial asset tied to Valerie. Real estate. The riverfront penthouse. Market value: three million dollars. I bought it before we got married, so it was legally mine. But I had added her name to the deed after the wedding as a gesture of love. Vehicles. A Porsche Cayenne and a Mercedes G-Wagon. The Cayenne was her daily driver. I bought the G-Wagon because she complained the Porsche did not look intimidating enough on the road. Both were registered in her name. Credit cards. Three platinum supplementary cards. Total credit limit: five hundred thousand dollars. Her average monthly spend was roughly forty thousand. Memberships. Golf clubs, luxury spas, the equestrian center. Annual fees totaled over a hundred grand. I went through the spreadsheets line by line. Over the last three years, I had blown nearly five million dollars on Valerie. Five million dollars. And it bought me a slap in the face. At exactly eight o’clock, Simon knocked and walked in. He brought black coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and a fresh dress shirt. He took one look at my bruised face but said nothing. I changed my shirt and took a bite of the sandwich. “Simon.” “Yes, Boss.” “I have three tasks for you today. Top priority.” “Name them.” “First, call the bank. Cancel all three of Valerie’s supplementary credit cards immediately. Cut them off.” Simon blinked in surprise. Then he gave a firm nod. “Done.” “Second, the Porsche and the Mercedes. I paid for both in full. Look into the legal paperwork required to transfer the titles back or impound them.” “Understood.” “Third, contact the property management at the penthouse and sync with the legal team. I am initiating the process to remove her name from the deed.” Simon looked up at me. There was a very complex emotion swirling in his eyes. Relief? Vindication? Probably both. “Adam,” he paused carefully. “Once I pull these triggers, Valerie is going to wage a nuclear war.” I leaned back in my chair and touched my swollen cheek. It still throbbed. “I know.” “Are you… absolutely sure?” “It has been three years, Simon.” I looked him dead in the eye. “I was slapped in public. I have never been so deeply degraded in my entire life.” “I was hit by a man I pay. Ordered by my own wife. Just to make her little toy boy laugh.” “Tell me, what exactly is left to hesitate about?” Simon did not say another word. He nodded sharply and walked out to execute my orders. At ten o’clock on the dot, Lawyer Reed arrived. I gave him a brief rundown of the situation. He adjusted his glasses. “Adam, if we go to litigation with your current financial paper trail and evidence… you have a massive advantage.” “Explain.” “The penthouse is a pre-marital asset. Even though her name was added, if we can prove she is at fault in the marriage…” “I can prove it,” I said. I pulled open my desk drawer and slid a flash drive across the desk. “This contains two years of her credit card statements, wire transfers, and a few… highly inappropriate chat logs.” Reed took the drive, raising an eyebrow. “You have been building a case this whole time?” I shook my head. “No. I just have my banking alerts turned on. Every time she wired money to Dominic, my phone pinged. I just never deleted the emails.” “Also,” I paused. “The VIP lounge last night had security cameras. The footage of the assault should still be on their servers. Subpoena it.” Reed stood up and extended his hand. “Adam, consider it done. I am taking this case.” We shook on it. After he left, I poured myself a glass of scotch and sat by the window. The morning sun was blinding. For the first time in three years, I felt like I could finally breathe. My phone vibrated on the desk. It was Valerie calling. I watched it ring for a few seconds. I did not answer. A minute later, a text popped up. “You did not come home last night? Where the hell are you?” Not a single ounce of concern. Just pure, entitled interrogation. I flipped the phone face down. I took a sip of scotch. Do not panic yet, sweetheart. The show is just getting started. 3 Around eleven-thirty, Valerie’s second text came through. “My card is declining. What is going on? Fix it right now.” Still barking orders. She had spoken to me exactly like this for three years. Never a discussion. Never a polite request. Just commands. I left her on read. At noon, the third text arrived. “Adam, what the hell are you doing?! I am at the salon, and my card keeps getting rejected. Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?” Humiliating. I get slapped in the face in front of my peers, and that is fine. But her card getting declined at a hair salon is a tragedy. I put my phone away and went down to the corporate cafeteria to grab lunch with Simon. Halfway through my steak, my phone rang again. It was not Valerie. It was Bruno. I debated for a second, then picked up. “Boss.” Bruno’s voice was low, like he was trying not to be overheard. “What do you want?” “Mrs. Valerie told me to ask you why the cards are frozen.” I cut a piece of steak, put it in my mouth, and chewed slowly. “Bruno, do you honestly think you have the right to pass messages for her?” Dead silence on the other end. “Boss, about last night… I am truly sorry. I just…” “Save your apologies,” I cut him off. “You made your choice. But you are a grown man. You know choices have consequences.” “You are no longer on my payroll. You are fired.” “Boss, wait!” “I will not sue you for breach of contract. Just disappear.” I hung up. Simon watched me, looking like he wanted to say something. “Spill it.” “Bruno has been with you for three years…” “Yes. Three years.” I put my fork down. “And in those three years, I treated him like family. I paid for his mother’s surgery out of pocket. I covered his little brother’s college tuition.” “But he still chose to hit me.” “I do not care what his excuse was. He raised his hand against me.” Simon nodded solemnly and went back to his food. At two o’clock, I went back to my office. I had seven missed calls from Valerie. I ignored all of them. At two-thirty, she sent a massive paragraph. “Adam, what is your problem? Are you throwing a temper tantrum over that tiny little joke yesterday? Can you grow up? It was a prank! Dominic did not even care, why are you being so dramatic? Unfreeze the cards right now, I have a spa appointment tomorrow.” A tiny little joke. A prank. I stared at those words until my vision blurred. Having her husband assaulted by a hired guard in front of twenty people. To her, it was a joke. I let out a long, slow exhale. I typed a reply. “We will talk when I get home.” I dropped the phone on the desk. I picked up a pen and grabbed a notepad. I wrote down my action plan. Step 1: Cut off all financial supply. Done. Step 2: Reclaim the vehicles. Step 3: Remove her name from the real estate. Step 4: Audit and reclaim all massive wire transfers made during the marriage. Step 5: Divorce. I reviewed the list. Then I added one final line at the bottom. Make her realize what losing me actually means. At five o’clock, I left work early. I drove straight to the penthouse. It was a two-hundred-square-foot luxury condo overlooking the city skyline. It cost me three million. The custom renovations cost another half a million. Every piece of Italian furniture, every chandelier, I picked out myself. I unlocked the door and walked in. Valerie was pacing the living room, looking furious. She was wearing a silk robe, her hair messy, yesterday’s makeup smeared under her eyes. When she saw me, she practically lunged forward. “Adam! You finally showed up! What the hell kind of game are you playing?!” I calmly took off my shoes, slipped on my house slippers, and sat on the sofa opposite her. I stared at her with zero emotion. “Sit down.” She froze. She was definitely not used to this tone. In the past, my voice was always soft, compromising, and pleading. Not today. She frowned, crossing her arms as she sat down, her foot tapping aggressively against the rug. “Speak. What is going on?” “Your cards are frozen.” “I know they are frozen! I am asking you WHY!” “Because I called the bank and froze them.” Her eyes went wide. “Excuse me?” “All three supplementary cards are canceled. Permanently. They will not be reactivated.” Valerie opened her mouth, but no words came out. Then she let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Is this a joke?” “No.” “Adam, have you lost your mind?” Her voice shrilled. “You are doing this over that stupid little incident last night…” “Stupid little incident?” I cut her off. My voice was not loud, but the sheer venom in it made her flinch. She had never seen me look at her like this. Cold. Absolute, freezing detachment. “You ordered the man I pay to protect me, to slap me across the face in front of a room full of my peers.” “Just so you could impress your little boy toy.” “And you call that a ‘stupid little incident’?” Valerie’s lips parted. “You… you are just being insecure! Bruno barely even touched you, your face is barely even…” “Valerie.” My voice dropped an octave. She instinctively shut her mouth. “Take a very close look at the left side of my face.” I turned my head. My jaw was visibly swollen, and a dark purple bruise was blooming near the corner of my mouth. She glanced at it, her eyes flickering with something like guilt, but she instantly looked away. “Well, you cannot just cut me off! How am I supposed to buy anything? You are my husband, providing for me is your job!” My job. Hearing those words fall from her lips made my three years of patience feel like a pathetic comedy. “Starting today,” I stood up, towering over her. “It is not just the cards.” “The cars, the house, every single asset I funded out of my own pocket. I am taking it all back.” Valerie looked completely paralyzed. “What are you talking about?” “I want a divorce.” The words hit the floor like a live grenade. The living room went deathly silent. Valerie sat frozen on the sofa. Her expression morphed from shock, to disbelief, and finally, to explosive rage. “A divorce?” She jumped to her feet, screaming so loud her voice cracked. “Who gave you the right to divorce me, Adam?! Are you sleeping around? Do you have another woman on the side?!” I turned and walked toward the master bedroom. No, the study. The study had been my bedroom for three years. “My lawyer will contact you. If you refuse to settle, we will take this to trial.” “You…!” A loud crash echoed behind me. She had grabbed a crystal vase off the coffee table and hurled it at the wall. I did not look back. I walked into the study and shut the door. I locked it. I sat down at my desk. My heart was steady. My hands were perfectly still. I felt absolutely zero regret. My phone buzzed on the desk. It was a random number. I answered it. “Adam?” It was Dominic. I leaned back in my chair. “What do you want?” “Valerie just called me crying,” he said. He sounded incredibly relaxed, almost amused. “Are you not overreacting a little bit? We were just drunk and having fun last night. You are a grown man, why are you being so sensitive?” I stayed silent for three seconds. “Dominic. Listen to me very carefully.” “Yeah?” “From this second forward, whatever happens between you and Valerie is none of my business.” “If you want to be her sugar daddy, step up.” “She burns through forty grand a month. If you can afford to keep her, you have my deepest respect.” The line went completely silent. I ended the call. I blocked his number.

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1 On our wedding day, the bridal party played Truth or Dare for the door-crashing ceremony. Rick smirked as he admitted his dare. “Cici, I leaked those private photos of you. When Mia’s were exposed, my parents and I had to protect her. Making you take the fall was the only way.” The room erupted. My mother stepped forward. “Mia has suffered. You need to accommodate her. Even if we tricked you, no real harm was done, right?” Rick knelt before me. “Now that you’re married, your wish came true. Do me a favor—don’t come looking for me anymore.” My fingers turned ice cold. “Rick, what do you mean?” He tapped my nose, gentle but looking at me like I was delusional. “Mia and I already got our license. I’m only doing this wedding so you get the aisle experience. Our actual wedding is tonight. In this same ballroom.” Confetti cannons exploded, ringing like sirens. Every bridal party member wore a mocking smile. Everyone knew but me. Rick held up my wedding heels. “Cici, it’s completely up to you whether you want to finish this ceremony or not.” … It felt like someone had wrapped their hands around my throat. I couldn’t force a single word out. My father stood off to the side, looking annoyed. “Why are you just standing there? Stop wasting everyone’s time. Mia is waiting for us at the photo spot.” “The faster you finish this up, the less time she has to wait, and the less sun she has to deal with.” My mother smacked my father’s arm, adding a comment that made my heart physically ache. “Why are you stating the obvious? Mia burns easily, which is exactly why her wedding is scheduled for tonight.” “Since the lighting is good right now, let’s just use Cici to figure out the best camera angles.” Hearing that name tossed around over and over, my fingers dug viciously into the tulle of my wedding dress. Fifteen years ago, Mia’s mother saved my mother’s life. When her mother passed away, my parents took Mia into our home. From that exact day forward, “You must be grateful” became the only phrase they ever said to me. So the pretty dresses I loved? Given to Mia. The cookies my grandmother baked specifically for me? Given to Mia. I accommodated her for so long that my parents completely stopped seeing me as their actual daughter. And now, I was supposed to give up my fiancé, too. “I’m so sorry, I’m late.” Mia’s voice shattered my memories. She was wearing a standard, simple bridesmaid dress. But the moment she walked in, every single eye in the room locked onto her. My mother immediately rushed over to dab the sweat off Mia’s forehead. “Mia, sweetie, didn’t I tell you to rest at home? Why did you come all the way here?” Mia put on her best innocent, accommodating smile. “Cici is my sister. Today is her big day. How could I miss it?” Rick practically sprinted across the room, gently hovering his hands over her shoulders. “Are you nervous?” “You still haven’t kicked that habit of pushing yourself when you’re anxious, have you?” Mia glanced up at him with a soft laugh. “You always know me best. I am a little nervous, so I wanted to come down early and watch the rehearsals.” A bitter, agonizing acidity rose in my chest. I gritted my teeth and violently kicked off the wedding heels I had just put on. I wanted to ruin everything for her. “I’m not getting married.” Standing barefoot on the floor, I turned around and marched toward the door. But Rick shot a look at his groomsmen, and they instantly blocked my path. “Since Mia came all this way to see a full wedding rehearsal, you are going to finish this ceremony today.” I froze in my tracks. A sharp, freezing pain shot down my spine. I had reached a point where I didn’t even have the fundamental right to cancel my own wedding. My father stomped over, jabbing his finger hard against my forehead. “Can you stop being such a brat? There are so many friends and family out there. Do you have no shame?” “As the younger sister, it is your job to accommodate her.” Those words slammed directly into the most fragile part of my heart. Mia and I were never related. Why was it my absolute obligation to treat her like royalty? I stared dead into my father’s eyes. My voice was shaking uncontrollably. “Dad, I just want to ask you one thing. Between me and Mia, who is your actual daughter?” Hearing that, tears instantly welled up in Mia’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “Cici, please don’t misunderstand! I never, ever wanted to steal your parents from you.” “I… I just love you all like my real family…” Rick immediately pulled her behind him, glaring at me with pure disgust. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?! Stop holding everyone up.” “Rick, who exactly is…” Before I could even finish my sentence, he grabbed my wrist and aggressively dragged me out of the hotel. My bare feet scraped against the rough pavement. Every step felt like I was walking on broken glass. But Rick didn’t notice, or didn’t care. His grip on my wrist was like a vice. My parents hurried behind us, their entire focus locked onto Mia. “Mia, watch your step. Don’t trip over your dress.” “Cici is just stubborn and petty. Don’t let her attitude ruin your mood.” Looking at this sick, twisted farce of a wedding, I felt completely dead inside. I pulled out my phone with my free hand and replied to the email from the overseas corporate branch. “I accept the offer. I will arrive for onboarding next Monday.” Since this family had completely erased my existence the day Mia moved in. I would just erase myself from their world for good. When we finally reached the outdoor photography spot. I realized something sickening. The massive welcome sign that was supposed to have my and Rick’s faces on it. It was replaced with a gorgeous portrait of him and Mia. Months ago, he spent hours testing out every possible lighting angle at this exact spot. Even this morning, he told me he wanted me to be the most beautiful bride on earth. Now the truth was agonizingly clear. All that gentle devotion was just a front to make sure everything was perfect for Mia. “Stand exactly here and don’t move.” “When Mia is satisfied with the shots, you can leave.” He shoved me onto the designated spot. He was as cold as if I were a literal mannequin. The harsh midday sun beat down relentlessly, blinding my eyes. I had suffered from extreme light sensitivity since I was a child. Whenever I brought it up to my parents, they would just brush it off. “It’s just a minor issue. Stop being so dramatic.” When I started dating Rick, he would always pull a sun hat over my head before we went outside. He would instinctively raise his hand to block the glare from my eyes. But right now, he was standing a few feet away, holding a professional camera right in Mia’s face. “Mia, how does this angle look? Do you like the framing?” Mia glanced at the digital screen. “Rick, you are so talented!” “But… the lighting is a bit…” As they talked, I tried to step back into the shade. Rick immediately snapped at me. “We need to shoot exactly one hundred photos for Mia today. We haven’t even finished the first batch.” “Cici, suck it up and stay on your mark.” My mother stomped over, yanking me roughly back onto the scorching concrete. She muttered viciously under her breath. “If Mia doesn’t get the perfect photos today, I am blaming you.” “You’re just being difficult because you’re jealous.” My vision completely blurred. Tears flooded my eyes until I couldn’t even see my own shadow on the ground. I couldn’t remember when I became a total ghost in my own family. I stood barefoot on the boiling concrete for almost an hour. My legs were trembling so violently I thought I would collapse. When they finally finished the first set, Mia walked over and held a bottle of water out to me. “Cici, it’s my fault you’re standing out here. I just really wanted these pictures.” “Drink some water. Please say you forgive me?” As I reached out to grab the bottle, she intentionally let it slip through her fingers. The water splashed onto the concrete, splashing a few drops of dirt onto the hem of her dress. Rick snapped his head up, his brow heavily furrowed. “Cici, what the hell is your problem?!” “Mia was nice enough to bring you water, and you refuse to even take it.” “You just ruined her dress! Do you even have the money to pay for that?!” I glanced down at her sparkling, designer gown. For as long as I could remember, I wore cheap, bargain bin clothes my parents bought from flea markets. They always said the expensive things had to be saved for Mia. They told me I wasn’t delicate enough to need nice clothes. The suffocating rage I had buried for years finally exploded. “I didn’t even touch the bottle! She dropped it herself!” “Rick, are you literally blind, or are you just looking for an excuse to humiliate me?!” He froze, completely stunned into silence. Mia gently tugged at his sleeve. “Rick, what are you doing?” “It wasn’t Cici’s fault. My hand slipped. You are not allowed to yell at her.” “Quick, apologize to Cici.” Rick looked down at Mia and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Mia. I just lost my temper. Please don’t be upset.” “And Cici, I apologize on her behalf. She’s always been too forgiving for her own good.” He managed to twist an apology that was supposed to be for me into another way to highlight my flaws. A chilling numbness washed over me. I pushed myself off the ground, walking straight past them. “Rick, I wish you both a lifetime of misery.” “After today, you and I are completely done.” I ordered an Uber and went straight to the ER alone. The triage doctor took one look at the bottom of my feet and asked what happened. I fought back the tears threatening to spill over. “I accidentally stepped on something hot.” After getting my feet bandaged, I limped slowly toward the exit. Suddenly, a massive crowd of people surged down the hallway. Someone violently shoved me out of the way. I crashed to the floor, my prescription bottles scattering everywhere. I looked up and saw Rick sprinting toward the trauma bay, carrying Mia in his arms like a madman. My parents were sprinting right behind him, their faces pale with terror. “Doctor! You have to save her!” “She ate a peanut! She’s having an allergic reaction!” Mia was rushed through the emergency doors. Rick stood there panting. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted me sitting on the floor. “Cici, what are you doing here?” I didn’t say a word. He glanced down at my heavily blistered and bandaged feet, frowning slightly. “When did you get hurt?” “I got hurt when you dragged me out to stand barefoot on boiling concrete for an hour.” I stared dead into his eyes. “Don’t you think pretending to care right now is a little pathetic?” He opened his mouth to speak, his face turning bright red. My mother glanced down at me, her voice dripping with annoyance. “You came all the way to the hospital for a few blisters? What a waste of money.” Before I could even defend myself, a nurse called out for Mia’s family. My parents instantly shoved past me. My mother grabbed the nurse’s arm, repeating the same thing over and over. “I don’t care how much it costs! Give her the absolute best medication you have! You have to save my Mia!” The absolute last shred of love I had for my family shattered into dust. I felt like a sponge completely wrung dry. I didn’t even have the strength to stand up. I dragged myself back to the empty house and started packing my suitcases. I put all my IDs and crucial documents safely in my bag. Without me realizing, the sun went down. I reached out to turn on the living room light, but nothing happened. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my father. “We are staying at the hospital tonight to watch over Mia.” “I cut the main breaker to the house. Since you’re the only one there, there’s no reason to waste electricity.” When I was in middle school, I was locked in my pitch black bedroom for an entire night. I called my parents dozens of times, but nobody answered. When I finally got out the next morning, I found out the truth. Mia had mentioned she wanted a specific cake from a bakery two towns over, so they drove out and spent the entire day having fun without me. Later, at a parent teacher conference, I tried to laugh off the story to the other moms. The other parents looked at me with deep pity. But my parents? They were busy discussing which designer dress to buy Mia next. A dark, bitter smile touched my lips. I navigated the dark hallway back to my room. Early the next morning, my parents brought Mia home. Seeing me leaning against my bedroom door, my father barked: “What are you standing around for? Go make lunch!” “Mia wants honey glazed wings and braised ribs. Don’t make them too sweet, and absolutely no cilantro.” I stood there, staring at the floor. They had every single one of Mia’s dietary preferences memorized flawlessly. Yet, the last time we went out for dinner, they ordered an entire table of spicy food. When I quietly reminded them that I was highly allergic to chili peppers, they accused me of intentionally ruining Mia’s night. Seeing that I wasn’t moving, my mother’s face darkened. “Why are you still standing there? What if Mia’s stomach starts hurting because she’s hungry?” Rick parked his car and walked in, immediately stepping in to play the peacemaker. “Mr. and Mrs. Reed, why don’t you take Mia to the couch so she can rest.” “Cici and I will handle lunch together.” He grabbed my wrist, yanked me into the kitchen, and slammed the door shut behind us. “What is your problem now? Are you still throwing a fit over the wedding? I already apologized, didn’t I?” “Are you seriously going to hold a grudge over this?” Even now, he truly believed I was just throwing a childish tantrum. My fingernails dug so deep into my palms they almost drew blood. “I am not cooking.” I violently ripped my hand out of his grip. “If you want to cook for Mia, do it yourself.” I turned to walk back to my room, just as Mia was coming down the stairs. She smiled sweetly and grabbed my arm. “Cici, please don’t be mad. I was just craving your cooking.” “Mom and Dad were just trying to make me happy. Please don’t take it personally.” My chest felt like it was filled with cement. I couldn’t move an inch. I viciously shoved her hand off my arm and walked up the stairs without looking back. From the living room, I heard my father comforting her. “Mia, ignore her. We completely spoiled her.” “If she had even half of your maturity, my life would be so much easier.” I let out a dark laugh on the landing. Fine. You want me gone? I’ll give you exactly what you want. That afternoon, I officially resigned from my local job. When I got home, I saw my parents shoving a debit card into Mia’s hands. I recognized that card immediately. It was the checking account where my entire salary was deposited. And lying on the floor next to the couch was my purse, ripped open. I sprinted over, staring at my mother in absolute horror. “What gives you the right to touch my bank account?!” My mother immediately raised her voice, completely unbothered. “We raised you for over twenty years! Do you have any idea how much money we spent keeping you alive?!” “What’s wrong with giving back to Mia now?! Why are you so ungrateful?!” That account held every single dollar I had ever saved in my life. I had been saving for years to finally buy my own apartment and escape this hell. But now, my only lifeline was being handed away. “The rent, the groceries, and the gifts I’ve bought you since I graduated college easily paid back whatever you spent raising me!” The second I got my first paycheck, my parents demanded a massive monthly ‘living fee.’ For every holiday, I was forced to buy them expensive gifts and cash envelopes. But Mia? She lived rent-free, entirely funded by my parents. “Why does my money belong to Mia?!” “Who exactly is your real daughter?!” Mia quickly tried to hand the card back, putting on a perfect performance of being deeply conflicted. But the look in her eyes was pure, venomous triumph. “Mom, Dad, I really can’t take Cici’s money. Please take it back.” My father grabbed her hand and forcefully shoved the card into her pocket. “Mia, keep it. Ignore her.” “She’s used to throwing tantrums and expecting everyone to cater to her.” Cater to me? When, in my entire life, had they ever catered to me?! Before I could even process the shock, Rick stepped forward. He placed a thick stack of cash into Mia’s hands. “Cici, I withdrew all the emergency funds we set aside for the wedding.” “Mia and I are hosting our official reception in a few days. Consider this your blessing to us.” When we started planning the wedding, Rick suggested we create a joint fund. We agreed to split the costs exactly fifty-fifty. But he kept dragging his feet on depositing his half, forcing me to drain my personal savings to cover the deposits. The agonizing memory of starving myself just to pay for a wedding that was never mine came rushing back. It felt like someone was carving my heart out with a dull knife. “What gives you the right?!” I lunged forward to rip the money out of his hands. “Rick, don’t you dare forget that I paid for every single cent of that wedding!” “What gives you the right to give it to her?!” My father aggressively stepped in front of Mia, pointing a finger directly in my face. “You heartless bitch!” “Mia’s mother saved your mother’s life! A daughter pays her mother’s debts! What’s wrong with taking a little of your money?!” I refused to listen to their psychotic logic. I dove forward again to grab my debit card from Mia. But my mother grabbed me by the hair and slapped me across the face as hard as she could. “Learn your damn place! You’re making a scene over a few dollars like a common thug!” “If you throw one more tantrum, we are disowning you for good!” My cheek burned like fire. The tears I had fought back for days finally spilled over my eyelashes. “I wish to God you had never given birth to me.” I didn’t say another word. I turned around and walked back to my room. For the next four days, the house was filled with laughter and wedding planning. But my bedroom felt like it had been entirely erased from existence. Not a single person checked if the severe burns on my feet were healing. Nobody even asked if I had eaten a meal. The night before my flight, Rick opened my bedroom door for the first time. He threw a bridesmaid dress onto my bed. “Mia wants you to be her maid of honor. You better be on time tomorrow.” He turned and walked away. It was like he truly believed his ex-fiancée was meant to stand in the background and play a supporting role in his new life. I picked up the dress and shoved it directly into the trash can. I was absolutely not going to that wedding. The next morning, before the sun even came up, I grabbed my suitcases and walked out the front door. As the plane lifted into the sky, the city shrank into tiny, meaningless blocks. From this moment on, I had absolutely zero connection to the family that had drained the life out of me for twenty years.

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Jason stole my diary. He flaunted it in the dorm. “Helen wasn’t even that hard to get. Took me three months to seal the deal. Weren’t you guys dying to know what she scribbles in this thing every day? Let’s read it together.” His roommates crowded around him, hyping him up. “Bro, obviously she’s writing pages of love confessions about you.” He flipped to the first page. [I agreed to date Jason just so I could be a little closer to him.] He flipped to the second page. [Why did he have to be Jason’s roommate?] The entire dorm went dead silent. 01 When Jason came to find me, he looked like he was about to be sick. I knew immediately that he had read my completely fabricated diary. Hilarious. That’s what you get for being a thief. Hope it eats you alive. I let out a cold, cynical laugh in my head, but on the outside, I kept my smile impossibly sweet and pure. “Jason, what brings you here?” He just stared at me. A few heavy seconds passed before his voice dropped into a low, strained register. “Helen, you’re my girlfriend now. I want to introduce you to my roommates.” I immediately plastered a look of sheer joy onto my face, pretending not to notice that his expression was darker than a thundercloud. “Really?” I asked, lacing my voice with the perfect amount of nervous excitement. “I finally get to meet your friends?” Jason ground his teeth together. “Yeah. We’re getting dinner tonight.” I paused, biting my lip as if I’d just remembered something terrible. “But I have my shift later…” He whipped out his phone without a second thought. A notification popped up. He had just CashApped me twenty grand. “Call in sick,” he demanded. “Tell them you have an emergency.” I immediately hit refund and put on a mask of righteous refusal. “I can’t take your money. How could you even ask me to?” He sent it again. I refunded it again. He sent it a third time. Finally, after Jason aggressively added a note saying “Voluntary Gift” and snatched my phone to forcefully accept the transfer, I let the charade end. Taking a highly satisfying mental screenshot of my new bank balance, I looked up at him with teary, moved eyes. “Jason, you’re so good to me.” 02 I am a student at St. Jude’s Academy. I am also the absolute poorest scholarship student on this entire campus. Jason, on the other hand, is one of the wealthiest blue-bloods wandering these halls. His specific dorm room is practically the academy’s own untouchable elite squad. They even have an unofficial fan club. Jason’s biggest daily struggles consist of deciding whether to fly to London or Paris for the weekend, or whether he prefers scuba diving or snowboarding. My daily calculations are vastly different. I have to figure out how to maintain my spot for the highest academic grants, calculate how many part-time shifts I can physically survive this month, and meticulously maintain my persona as the fragile, innocent girl-next-door. The persona is crucial for getting sympathy and maintaining friendly terms with the student body, so I don’t end up bullied and ostracized like the poor girls in teen movies. On top of that, I have to mentally track which food delivery coupons are stacking, which stores offer free birthday freebies, and the exact rotation of grocery store discount days. This is the life of the poor. Tedious, exhausting, and endless. Originally, Jason and I minded our own business. We existed in parallel universes. That was until some ridiculous rumors started floating around campus. People whispered that I was impossible to get. That some guy chased me for six months and failed. They also said I wrote in a diary every single day, and that it held my deepest, darkest secrets. My reaction? Pure confusion. First of all, I had no idea who this mystery guy even was. I didn’t know anyone was chasing me, period. The second a lecture ended, I was already sprinting out the door for work. If people talked to me, I usually just smiled, nodded blankly, and let the words go in one ear and out the other. As for the diary I supposedly wrote in every day? It was my accounting ledger. I’ve had a habit of meticulously tracking my expenses by hand since I was a kid. But those rumors somehow piqued Jason’s interest. Not only was he obsessed with finding out what was in my “diary,” but he also made a bet with his roommates about how many months it would take to get me into bed. I rejected him time and time again. He remained relentlessly, aggravatingly persistent. Then came the breaking point. Jason showed up at the upscale restaurant where I waited tables, paid a customer under the table to humiliate me, and then dramatically stepped in to play the hero. That was the moment I snapped. After my manager tore into me, I walked back out to the dining floor, my uniform still damp and smelling of spilled soup. Under Jason’s watchful gaze, I clenched my jaw tight enough to crack a tooth, forced a trembling, grateful smile, and said softly, “Thank you, Jason.” You don’t want to be a decent human being? Fine. You can be my personal ATM instead. 03 Jason took me to a high-end French bistro. When we arrived, all three of his roommates were already seated at a plush corner booth. Even though they tried to hide it, I could feel the sheer weight of their stares burning into me. People are so predictable. None of them actually liked me, but the second they thought I was secretly in love with one of them, and that I only used Jason to get closer, their fragile male egos and morbid curiosity skyrocketed. The smugness radiating off them was practically suffocating. A bunch of voyeuristic trust-fund brats. I cursed all three of these bored rich boys to hell and back in my head, but my face remained a mask of polite shyness. I even added a micro-detail, gently pulling my hand out of Jason’s grip. It was the ultimate subtle giveaway of a girl terrified to hold her boyfriend’s hand in front of her true crush. Jason felt it instantly. His expression darkened again. He grabbed my hand back, lacing our fingers with a bruising grip, though his voice remained sickly sweet. “Helen, these are my roommates. You’ve probably seen them around campus.” I nodded, pressing my lips into a tight line, completely refusing to speak. Knowing Jason, I knew he would never confront me openly. First, his ego could never handle admitting he snooped through my diary. Second, he definitely felt played and was currently burning alive with the need to figure out which roommate was the “him” in my entries. Third, the sheer competitive drive. The moment he realized I was into his roommate, I stopped being a casual bet and transformed into a prize he had to keep at all costs. Men. So predictable. Rich or poor, they’re all the same. Their thoughts are broadcasted right on their faces, decoded in a fraction of a second. As we reached the table, Jason was still burning holes into the side of my head, trying to track my eye movement to guess which roommate I was swooning over. But why would I ever give him the answer? I didn’t look at a single one of them. Instead, I looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Jason, aren’t you going to sit down?” Jason remained entirely speechless. 04 The atmosphere at the table was wound tighter than a snare drum. Oliver broke the silence first. “Jason, we haven’t ordered yet. Why don’t you see what Helen… uh, what your girlfriend wants.” Oliver had these bright, golden-retriever eyes, strong features, and dimples when he smiled. He exuded this effortless, sunny optimism. I honestly didn’t blame him. If my family owned ten historic estates in the city center, I’d be pretty damn optimistic too. He slid a leather-bound menu toward me. The page was a dizzying blur of French culinary terms. I couldn’t recognize a single dish. I could, however, read the numbers on the right. One appetizer cost my entire month’s rent. The sheer audacity of the prices was making me want to eat the rich. I gently pushed the menu back, offering a timid smile. “I’ve never had any of this before. You guys can just order for me.” Oliver took it back. “Alright, Jason, you take the lead. You definitely know what she likes.” Jason had absolutely no clue what I liked. All he knew was that I usually inhaled whatever was put in front of me. But I knew exactly what to do. I had done my homework. The files uploaded by their unofficial fan club were highly detailed. Jason loved mangoes. But Oliver was deathly allergic to them. So, I furrowed my brow slightly and whispered to the waiter, “Excuse me, none of these dishes have mango in them, right?” The table plunged into silence once more. Jason stared at me. Oliver stared at me. I looked around, the picture of pure confusion. “Is something wrong? I just asked because I can’t eat mangoes.” Before Jason could even open his mouth, I delivered the checkmate. “Jason, you didn’t know?” Under my soft gaze, Jason completely froze. He couldn’t admit he didn’t know. After all, his current persona was the deeply devoted boyfriend who had spent months winning my heart. But if he claimed he knew, it would be a blatant lie. Because I just made it up. I love mangoes. I literally drank a massive mango slushie this morning. Oliver, quick on his feet, smoothed things over. “Wow, what a coincidence. I’m allergic to mangoes too.” I sent a silent prayer of gratitude to the senior girls in the drama club for all the acting tips they’d shared. I also thanked the universe for the few indie film extras gigs I did for cash. I lowered my eyelashes, sitting in quiet stillness for a long moment. When I finally lifted my gaze, I let my eyes meet Oliver’s, making sure my expression was unbearably soft and tender. When he finished speaking, I murmured, “Yeah. What a coincidence.” In reality, my peripheral vision was working overtime, scanning all three guys across the table. Look down, look up at Oliver. Look down, look up at Sebastian. Look down, look up at Zane. I made sure no one felt left out. Everyone got a dose of the lovesick gaze. Three parts lonely, three parts admiring, two parts melancholic, and two parts restrained. My eyeballs were practically cramping, but it was hands down the Oscar-winning performance of my life. Oliver stiffened. He looked completely out of his depth. He shifted out of his relaxed, leaning-back posture, sitting up straight. Then, he shot a covert, highly disapproving glare at Jason. 05 Jason was sitting right next to me. From his angle, he completely missed the visual masterpiece of my eye acting. But he didn’t miss my physical acting. Like right now. Before the food even arrived, I very naturally reached over and moved the cup of hot tea away from my own placemat, sliding it across the table. Jason stopped moving and stared at me. I looked straight past him. “President, shouldn’t you take your medicine first?” Sebastian was the student council president of our academy. At St. Jude’s, where the students practically ran the administration, he was basically the local emperor. Sebastian wore silver-rimmed glasses. He had this classically handsome, refined face. He looked like old money personified, always impeccably polite, but keeping a freezing distance from everyone around him. In short, he was a massive snob. But again, I understood him. If I were the sole heir to a global Fortune 500 conglomerate, I’d be even more insufferable than him. Jason snapped at me, “What medicine? What are you talking about?” I let my eyes linger on Sebastian, holding his gaze. Jason was clearly losing his mind. The muscle in his jaw was practically vibrating as he shot Sebastian a lethal, “so it’s you” glare. “I tried out for the student council recently, but…” I started, letting my voice trail off into a melancholic sigh. I left plenty of blank space for their imaginations to run wild. A few seconds later, I visibly pulled myself together, forcing a bright, brave smile. “So, I found out the President has a bad stomach.” There was absolutely zero correlation between those two statements. I did try out for the council. And the reason I didn’t get in was that I failed the very first round of interviews. I had applied for the position of Council Secretary, which was basically the emperor’s right hand. I took the application incredibly seriously. I even quit two of my part-time jobs just to prepare. I was absolutely determined to get that role. First, as secretary, I would be second-in-command. I could walk around St. Jude’s like I owned the place. Second, I would only ever have to suck up to Sebastian. If anyone else tried to boss me around, I could just drop a “the President needs me” and watch them back off. Third, I was usually too busy to care about extracurricular credits. I literally pulled weeds on campus for extra cash. But working directly for the council? My academic credits would be maxed out effortlessly. Fourth, and most importantly, I figured I could slowly win over the masses, stage a coup, or just wait for Sebastian to graduate early, leaving me as the new reigning monarch. Who wouldn’t be tempted by that kind of power? I certainly was. I even studied Sebastian’s files meticulously. He had gastric issues. The classic, generic CEO stomach illness. I made sure to memorize it, knowing it would be a perfect tool for kissing up to him later. But despite scoring first place on the written exam, I was booted in the first interview. Because I couldn’t compete with the girl who had just donated a million dollars to the council’s event fund. She was the president of Sebastian’s fan club, throwing endless piles of cash just to breathe the same air as him. I tossed and turned all night after that, genuinely wondering if I got plastic surgery to look like Sebastian, someone would throw a million dollars at me too. I watched the sunrise and still couldn’t let it go. But Sebastian definitely knew nothing about this. He could never have guessed my dark, treasonous plans to usurp his throne. Right now, he just looked slightly stunned. His pale tea-colored eyes locked onto mine, a complex swirl of emotions shifting behind his lenses. After a long pause, he said, “Thank you.” I immediately blurted out, “…You never have to thank me.” Jason looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. His eyes were practically shooting lasers, glaring at Sebastian. Meanwhile, I simply lowered my head, murmuring softly, “You’re all Jason’s friends. It’s the least I can do.” Then, I secretly reached out and hooked my pinky finger around Jason’s. His blazing fury froze solid on his face. He whipped his head toward me, only to find me smiling at him, my eyes curved in a crescent, looking utterly, innocently sweet. Jason was rendered completely speechless. He silently turned his head back toward the table. But he didn’t unhook his pinky from mine. 06 Jason’s final roommate was Zane. He had the kind of face that practically invited trouble, possessing the sharp, striking bone structure of a runway model. Even though he always looked halfway to sleep and dressed like he couldn’t care less, slipping on a plain white tee made him look like he was headlining a designer campaign. Because of this, he sat at the very top of the academy’s “Most Smashable” list. I have no idea who invented that list, but they were a genius for finding a loophole in the school’s strict anti-gossip firewall. Back then, Zane and Sebastian’s fan clubs were in an all-out turf war over the number one spot. I took fifty bucks from my desk-mate, guiltlessly rejected the class rep’s aggressive lobbying, and cast my vote for Zane. My desk-mate claimed Zane was incredibly laid-back, easily the most approachable guy in their elite circle. She even showed me his social media. He replied to almost every single comment. But my eyes were entirely locked on the actual content of his post. Zane had uploaded a screenshot casually mentioning that his mutual funds had a solid return that month. The string of zeros was blinding. I counted them one by one. Tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, millions… twenty million. I took a moment to imagine a reality where my monthly passive income was twenty million dollars. If that were me, I would love absolutely everyone on this earth. I would be entirely devoid of negative emotions. But Zane genuinely had real problems. His father had four wives and three sons. His mother was the first wife, but she was the least favored. His father never gave him an ounce of paternal love, only cold, lifeless money. I felt deeply sorry for him. Because if someone handed me that much cold, lifeless money, I would gladly offer them the most scorching, passionate fatherly love imaginable. So, for a long time, whenever I looked at Zane, my gaze was filled with warm, parental affection. That was until Jason decided to make my life hell, and my hatred officially extended to their entire suite. I hope every single one of these entitled, meddling snobs rots. 07 During dinner, Zane and I barely exchanged a single word. Not until I excused myself to the restroom. When I walked out, Zane was leaning against the tiled wall, watching me. He must have just splashed water on his face. His dark hair was slightly damp at the edges, a stray drop of water tracing the sharp line of his brow bone. I immediately averted my eyes, playing the skittish fawn. “Zane.” He looked thoughtful for a second before a slow, easy smile spread across his face. “Helen. We aren’t total strangers, are we?” I quickly ducked my head, kicking into high gear with my performance. I hid my hands behind my back, pinching my own fingertips until the knuckles turned white. We had actually crossed paths before. One of my old part-time jobs was at a late-night diner right next to the luxury racing club he frequented. Every time he finished burning rubber on the track, I was still on shift. “Haven’t seen you around lately,” he noted. I was genuinely surprised. We had barely exchanged three sentences back then, yet he actually remembered me. “It wasn’t a good fit,” I replied vaguely. Why else does anyone change jobs? The pay wasn’t good enough, obviously. And I had found something that paid more. But Zane’s imagination clearly took a wild detour. His expression shifted into something incredibly subtle. He asked, “Then back then… why were you always still there every time I left?” I wanted to scream. Because I was on the clock! I had to wait to clock out, or I would have been gone hours ago! But Zane was staring at me with intense, searching eyes. I took a few seconds to let the silence stretch, then lifted my gaze to meet his, making sure my eyes looked devastatingly earnest. “If you saw a light still on when you were leaving… did it make you feel a little happier?” According to my research, Zane was notorious for wasting electricity. His penthouse was always blazing with lights, burning brightly through the entire night. Combining his background, his deep-seated family trauma, and his whole vibe, I made an educated guess: the guy was terrified of the dark. Just like stomach ulcers, nyctophobia was apparently a must-have fashion accessory for the ultra-rich. Sure enough, Zane’s casual posture faltered. He looked completely caught off guard. Before he could recover, I walked right past him. Just as I passed his shoulder, I paused my steps and let my voice drop to a breathy whisper. “I just want you to be happy, Zane.” 08 After dinner, Jason walked me back to my dorm. He immediately started fishing for information. “So, my roommates aren’t too bad, right?” I nodded, then rose slightly on my tiptoes, leaning close to him. Whatever he was about to ask died in his throat. He watched, mesmerized, as I reached up, my arm brushing his neck, and plucked a stray fallen leaf from his hair. We were standing dangerously close. His breathing hitched, his eyes dropping to stare at my face. I smoothly pulled the leaf back, hiding it in my palm, and looked up at him with a bright, adoring smile. “Your friends are great, Jason. But to me, you’re the best.” He didn’t speak for a long time. This arrogant, high-and-mighty heir had clearly never been in a real relationship. Even after we officially started dating, he hadn’t even held my hand properly, too obsessed with figuring out how to steal my diary. He was a decent thief, sure, but in the game of pure, romantic manipulation? He was way out of his league. I would bet my life he had never dealt with a move like this before. “I’ve never had food that expensive before,” I added softly. “Thank you for spending so much on me.” “What do you usually eat, then?” he blurted out. I stayed quiet. Something seemed to click in his head, and a flash of regret crossed his face. When he had been “chasing” me, eight out of ten times he bumped into me, I was eating from a cheap takeout styrofoam box. The other two times, I was choking down convenience store rice balls or discounted bread. The dining halls at St. Jude’s were notoriously overpriced. But I didn’t see the problem. What’s wrong with boxed lunches? There are elite-tier boxed lunches out there. The one I frequented was a hidden gem I had struck gold with—cheap, delicious, and massive portions. The owner always slipped me extra crispy pickled cucumbers and radishes, and since I paid for a monthly meal plan, she gave me a massive discount. But Jason clearly didn’t share my culinary worldview. He looked instantly agitated, pulling out his phone and aggressively tapping the screen. “You’re my girlfriend now. Stop eating that garbage,” he said, his voice gruff. “Take the money. If I’m busy, buy yourself something decent. When I’m free, I’ll take you out.” Garbage? It had carbs, a protein, and a vegetable! I mentally apologized to the sweet lunch lady on his behalf. On the surface, I slipped perfectly into my fragile, hesitant persona. After a few rounds of weak protests, I reluctantly accepted the transfer. “Honestly, just eating with you makes me happy,” I said. “Even instant noodles would taste amazing.” Then, I reached into my bag and pulled out a small plastic Tupperware container, handing it to him. Inside was a bizarre, lumpy mango concoction that looked like a culinary disaster. “I can’t eat mangoes, but I know they’re your favorite,” I said softly. “I tried making this this morning. It doesn’t look great, and I wasn’t even going to give it to you… you can just throw it away if you don’t want it.” It really did look terrible. It was the leftover pulp and absolute dregs from the mango slushie I had made myself that morning. I had meant to throw it in the trash but forgot. As I handed it over, my sleeve slipped down just enough to reveal a cluster of faint, red spots on my wrist. It looked exactly like an allergic reaction. —During dinner, when Oliver mentioned that people with severe allergies break out in hives just from touching the fruit, inspiration struck. I had rushed to the bathroom and drawn them on with a red pen. Jason’s gaze zeroed in on my wrist. He went totally mute. Only after I frantically yanked my sleeve down, playing the part of someone trying to hide her sacrifice, did he finally let out a low, rough “Yeah.” “I’m going to head up now, Jason,” I said. “See you tomorrow.” “See you tomorrow,” he echoed. I walked up the stairs and stopped at the third-floor landing, peering out the window. Sure enough, Jason was still standing by the entrance, frozen like a statue. Then, the statue moved. The statue opened the container and started eating my biohazard waste. The statue looked like it wanted to gag, but it powered through, swallowing the disgusting mush down. Two minutes later, my phone buzzed. Jason: Thank you, baby. It was delicious. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I let out a sharp, breathless laugh. Feeling guilty? Feeling regret? Heart bleeding for me? Realizing you’re a complete monster? Oh, honey, we are just getting started. Jason, you absolute amateur.

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My seven-year-old brother wrote a bucket list. Every time he got admitted to the hospital, he added another line to it. He wanted my childhood sweetheart, Ben, and me to take him to the amusement park. He wanted us to eat ice cream together. He wanted us to build sandcastles on the beach. Every single wish revolved around me. But when I read the very last line on that list, it hit me like a ton of bricks. He wished for Ben and me to break up. I didn’t take it seriously at first. I just brushed it off as my little brother’s overprotective gene kicking in. I even thought it was cute enough to share with Ben as a joke. “Someone wants me to dump you. What do you think about that?” Ben stayed dead silent for a long moment. Then, he decided to confess everything. “Don’t listen to whatever your best friend is feeding you. Even if she goes through with the pregnancy, I am not breaking up with you to be with her.” “But you have to promise me one thing. Don’t go making a scene with Chloe. She’s pregnant and her morning sickness is brutal right now. If you go after her, I’ll pull the plug on finding that specialist for your brother.” In a split second, the bucket list hidden behind my back was crumpled tight in my trembling fist. “…Fine. I promise.” “But you have to promise me you’ll help finish my brother’s bucket list.” 1 Hearing my condition, Ben didn’t agree right away. A flash of knowing exhaustion crossed his eyes. “Are you mad? I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but this is Chloe’s first baby. I have to be extremely careful. I’ll get the doctor sorted out for your brother. But I might not have as much time to spend with you lately. I’m sorry you have to deal with this, babe.” Saying that, Ben gently wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. He had done this exact move a thousand times before. I didn’t even have to think to know what he was going to do next. He would slowly nuzzle his cheek against mine. It was our secret little way of apologizing and making things right. But this time, I flinched away. I needed to cut the cord cleanly. “How long have you two been together? Five months? Eight months? A whole year? We’ve only known her for eighteen months total. Do not sit there and tell me it was love at first sight.” My voice was incredibly soft. So quiet that even I couldn’t hear the heartbreak in it. But Ben immediately got defensive and let go of me. “Can you really not give me the absolute bare minimum of trust? It happened exactly one time, three months ago. That’s when she got pregnant. What do you want me to say? Do you want the whole play-by-play of how we hung out, how I took her clothes off, and how she got knocked up?” “Besides, if you could actually have kids, do you really think I’d let her keep it?” My eyes widened in sheer disbelief. “Why can’t I have kids? Do you honestly not know?” Fourteen years ago, Ben’s parents’ business went under. Loan sharks showed up at his house. One of them grabbed Ben by the collar, holding a switchblade to his throat, demanding money from his parents. Except they grabbed the wrong kid. They grabbed me, thinking I was their daughter. I was thirteen. I didn’t say a word because I was terrified Ben would get hurt. I took the blade to the stomach for him. And now, at twenty-seven, Ben just blurted it out like it was nothing. “You volunteered for that. I didn’t ask you to do it. You can’t just keep bringing up ancient history every time you want to win an argument.” He glared at me, his brow heavily furrowed. It felt like I was truly seeing him for the very first time. The Ben in my memory was a ten-year-old boy bravely standing in front of the school bullies, promising to protect me. He was a thirteen-year-old crying his eyes out, swearing he would take care of me forever. He was a twenty-year-old holding my hands on a snowy mountain, wishing for nothing but my happiness. He was not this stranger who betrayed me and then tried to gaslight me with “logic” just to save his own skin. My grip on the crumpled piece of paper tightened until my knuckles turned white. “You’re right. I made a huge mistake back then. I shouldn’t have played the hero and saved your life. Being infertile is just my karma.” I thought agreeing with him would end it, but his face just twisted into something uglier. “Here we go again. You’re starting up again. Look at yourself. You’re acting completely psychotic right now. What is the difference between you and a screaming banshee?” “Send me the parts of the list that involve me. I’ll show up when I can. I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with your tantrums today. Chloe has an ultrasound appointment. Figure your own mess out.” With that, Ben snatched his jacket off the couch and stormed out, leaving me completely alone in the dead quiet of the apartment. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I had saved months ago. “That pediatric specialist in Boston… is the offer to consult still on the table?” 2 The voice on the other end sounded a bit surprised. “I mean, yes. But didn’t you say you booked a top tier doctor locally and the dates clashed?” That local doctor was the one Ben had used all of his family connections to secure. It used to be his ultimate proof of how much he loved me. Now, it was just the leash he used to keep me trapped. He assumed that since my job and my life were rooted here, I didn’t have the means to drag my sick brother across the country to find a doctor. He thought I had no choice but to rely on him. I forced a bitter smile and dodged the real issue. “It didn’t work out. I’m flying him out for a consultation this week.” As for why it didn’t work out, I kept my mouth shut. I packed my suitcases and got ready to walk out of that apartment for good. But the second I opened the front door, I was face to face with Chloe. Her eyes were rimmed red with tears. She grabbed my hands with a desperate grip, drowning me in endless apologies. “I am so, so sorry. I swear I never wanted to steal your boyfriend. I just looked up to you so much. If I get on my knees right now, will you please forgive me? You are my absolute best friend. We promised to be bridesmaids at each other’s weddings!” Dangling from her wrist was the good luck charm I bought for her. I had prayed over that charm at a snowy mountain shrine. She had hugged me, crying, saying how blessed she was to have met me. And in the blink of an eye, she was holding Ben’s hand, stabbing me right in the back. Ben stepped out of the elevator, his eyes filled with agonizing pity for her. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He glared at me. “Apologize to Chloe right now. Do you have any idea how long she’s been crying because you wouldn’t answer her calls? Pregnant women cannot handle massive emotional distress! Even if you don’t care, you have a mother. You should know better!” My head snapped up in sheer shock. It took me a full minute to even find my voice. “I don’t have one anymore. My parents died in a car crash a year ago. Did you somehow forget?” Ben’s brow furrowed, instantly trying to backpedal. “Don’t twist my words, sweetie. You know I didn’t mean…” But I didn’t acknowledge him. I ripped my hands away, grabbing Chloe’s wrist and pressing down hard on the good luck charm she wore. “And did you forget too? You looked up to me? You want my life? Well, I wish you the exact same life I have. Dead parents, totally betrayed by the person you love the most. Oh, right, you don’t have a little brother. So I hope that baby in your stomach ends up exactly like my brother.” Slap! Before I even registered the burning sting on my cheek, my heart completely shattered. Ben’s palm was bright red. A flash of instant regret crossed his eyes. But Chloe shrieked, completely dropping the innocent act. “Are you out of your mind?! This is my baby! And one day it’s going to be your baby too! What the hell do you get out of cursing an unborn child?!” I kept my head down. My eyes locked onto the shiny leather shoes on Chloe’s feet. Chloe and I met in college. We were roommates. She moved here from a tiny rural town. She was terrified of her own shadow and had zero friends. So I became her lifeline. When we graduated, I paid the deposit on her apartment. When guys harassed her, I fought them off. I even bought those exact shiny shoes for her first job interview, because her parents refused to spend a dime on a girl. And now, the reflection on those polished shoes just showed me how utterly pathetic I was. Ben had money. He treated her better than he ever treated me. He would make sure she never went without. I wanted to let it all go. But my shoulders were wound so tight they were shaking. I was desperately trying to convince myself that this cold, uncaring act was just me saving face. “That is not my child. It shares zero DNA with me. And we are not a package deal. Did you forget? We aren’t even married.” “Not married?” Ben practically laughed in my face, like it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “Look at the state your brother is in. Can you really afford to walk away from me right now?” Ben had said something eerily similar at my parents’ funeral. He had held my shaking hands and said, “You still have me. I will be right by your side. Since they are gone, it’s my turn to take care of you. As long as you need me, I will never leave.” The vows that were supposed to protect me had morphed into the chains forcing me to swallow his betrayal. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase. Chloe lunged forward to stop me, but Ben pulled her back. “Let her go. Let her throw her little tantrum. Your only job right now is to take care of yourself. Don’t waste your energy getting mad over people who aren’t worth it.” Not worth it. That was the perfect summary of my twenty-seven years on this earth. The scar on my abdomen, silent for over a decade, suddenly flared with a blinding, throbbing pain. 3 The amusement park was my brother’s idea. Ben dragged Chloe along. Chloe was holding an action figure my brother loved, crouching in front of him, desperately trying to win him over. But my brother wasn’t excited at all. He just gripped my hand tightly and refused to let go. Ben frowned. Right as he opened his mouth to scold him, Chloe let out a bloodcurdling scream and collapsed onto the pavement. Before I could even process what happened, Ben lunged forward and violently shoved my seven-year-old brother to the ground. I dove on instinct, shielding my brother’s body. My arm scraped brutally against the rough concrete, tearing off a massive layer of skin. Chloe clutched her stomach, looking absolutely devastated. “I know you hate me! I get it! I know I wronged you! But my baby is completely innocent! Why would you teach your brother to pinch my stomach?!” Her crying was loud enough that a crowd of people at the amusement park started turning their heads, forming a circle around us. Ben’s face was completely black with rage. He screamed at the top of his lungs. “Are you insane?! Chloe was nice enough to care about your feelings! She literally begged me to come help your brother finish his stupid bucket list! And this is how you repay her?! Are you not going to be happy until you force her to have a miscarriage?!” Ben and Chloe looked like a distressed married couple. To the crowd, I was instantly labeled as the psychotic mistress. People pointed fingers, whispering viciously. A few even pulled out their phones, recording the drama for TikTok. But I tuned all of them out. I stared intensely at my brother’s unfocused eyes. I patted his pale cheek, calling his name in a panicked whisper. “Look at me! Wake up! Please, wake up!” Ben hated that I was ignoring him. He grabbed my bleeding arm, refusing to let it go. But when he saw the blood pouring down my skin, he froze for a second. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. A horrific scream tore from my throat as tears flooded my face. “He has leukemia! He has severe leukemia! How could you shove him like that?! If anything happens to him, what am I supposed to do?!” Chloe muttered under her breath. “Does she think we’re stupid? He passes out the second he gets caught doing something bad? Ben barely touched him. They’re just faking it so we don’t press charges.” Then, she acted like she realized she said that out loud. She clamped a hand over her mouth, looking terrified. And Ben actually bought it. He completely stopped believing me. This was the same man who confessed his love to me under the fireworks, swearing his devotion. He had said, “I will be your rock forever. Just give me one chance, and I will never let you down.” But right now, he stared down at me with absolute zero empathy. He even blocked a bystander from coming over to help. “Don’t encourage them. The kid is throwing a tantrum and the sister enables it. Let him bake in the sun for a few minutes. When he gets uncomfortable enough, he’ll magically wake up.” My hands were shaking violently as I dialed 911. Right on cue, Chloe clutched her stomach and started wailing in pain. Her eyes brimmed with fresh tears. “It’s from the fall! I swear I feel something leaking down there! Ben, I’m so scared!” Panic completely took over Ben’s face. He scooped Chloe up in his arms and sprinted straight into the back of the ambulance the second it arrived. He totally forgot I was still kneeling on the pavement holding my unconscious brother. The paramedic looked torn, but the bystanders immediately started chiming in. “Just go! The kid is faking it to avoid getting grounded. That pregnant lady just took a nasty fall. You need to get her to the ER!” “The sister spoils him rotten. They’re just wasting emergency resources. That kid is going to grow up to be a total menace.” I begged them to stop, but my voice was completely drowned out by the angry mob. The ambulance doors slammed shut, leaving my brother and me entirely alone in the dust. Thankfully, a girl passing by couldn’t stand watching it anymore. She practically threw us into the back of her car and sped all the way to the ER. My brother was barely saved in time. The on-call doctor took one look at his chart and immediately ordered him into the trauma bay. “Leukemia patients have zero immune system and cannot sustain trauma! Do you not know this as his guardian?! His baseline was already critically low!” Staring at the glowing red ‘IN SURGERY’ sign above the doors, I finally broke down, sobbing quietly into my hands. A year ago, my parents were wheeled through those exact same doors. And they never came out. Ben always called me dramatic and immature. But what exactly did I do wrong? My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Chloe. It was a picture of Ben, asleep with his head resting near her hospital bed. “You were right. I don’t need to want your life. I’ve already taken your man. Do you want to know exactly when we got together? The night your parents died in that car crash.” I stared at the glowing screen. I stopped crying. I stopped breathing. Chloe’s messages kept rolling in. “Ben told me you’d lock yourself in your bedroom. He said you’d refuse to talk to anyone or see anyone. He said it was the absolute safest time.” “And he was right. The next morning, you saw the stains on his bedsheets. He made up some excuse about not having time to do laundry. And you were so blinded by grief you just assumed it was from you guys messing around before.” Twenty-seven years together. Ben truly knew me inside and out. Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Ben appeared, panting heavily. “The doctor just called me. What the hell did you guys do after we left? Why is he in emergency surgery?!” I looked up from my phone, staring at him. He looked exactly like he did the night he rushed to the hospital after my parents crashed. He looked so panicked. And the second his eyes landed on my tear-stained face, that familiar, long-lost heartbreak washed over him again. “We were just finishing his bucket list.” My voice was hollow. It was lighter than air. And we would have finished it. If Chloe hadn’t maliciously framed my brother. If Ben hadn’t shoved him to the concrete. Ben didn’t understand what I meant. He just sat heavily beside me, gently picking up my arm that was still crusted with dried blood and dirt. “You were in the wrong today. Don’t try to blur the lines just because your brother got sick. I’ll let you vent today, but when we get back, you are apologizing to Chloe.” I didn’t argue. I just kept talking, completely disconnected from whatever reality he was living in. “Do you know what the very last wish on his list is?” Ben let out an exhausted sigh. He softened his tone, realizing he just had to humor me. “What is it?” That tone. It was so painfully familiar. It was the exact tone he used when he asked me to be his girlfriend at eighteen. The amusement park fireworks exploded in the distance, casting brief flashes of light against the sterile hospital walls. I stared dead into his eyes. I didn’t even have the energy to fake a smile anymore. “He wants us to break up.”

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1 I have mild prosopagnosia, commonly known as face blindness. My fiancée, Amy, always treated my condition like a running joke. She loved teaming up with her best friend, Becca, and my supposed best friend, Jack, to test me in crowded places. During art exhibits or shopping trips, they would throw on identical masks and challenge me to pick Amy out of a crowd. If I guessed wrong once, I had to pay for dinner. If I guessed wrong twice, Amy would cross her arms and sneer: “We’ve been together for five years. Do you ever actually look at my face?” Today, during our wedding photo shoot, they decided on a whim to play another round of “Find the Bride.” A dozen women dressed in identical white bridal gowns stood in a line with their backs to me. Jack nudged me forward, urging me to use my instincts to pick Amy out. I stood there, my hands frozen at my sides. Jack took my wrist, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Don’t press him, guys. Amy isn’t even in the lineup.” The room erupted into laughter. On the nearby vanity table lay a note Amy had left behind: If you can’t even recognize your own fiancée, figure out how to host tonight’s rehearsal dinner by yourself. I read the note, pulled out my phone, and called the venue to cancel tonight’s rehearsal dinner. A face I could never recognize was a face I no longer wanted to look at. … After canceling the event, I forwarded the confirmation slip to the wedding planner. The coordinator asked over the line, “Mr. Sean, the ballroom and floral arrangements are completely set up. Canceling now incurs a thirty percent cancellation penalty. Are you absolutely sure?” “I am sure. Refund the remaining balance to my account.” “Does Miss Amy know about this?” “There is no need to notify her.” I hung up, grabbed a cab, and returned to the condo I owned. The moment I unlocked the front door, Becca’s voice drifted out from the living room. “Amy, I lost the bet! I can’t believe he came back in less than two hours!” Amy laughed softly. “I told you he couldn’t handle the venue staff on his own. He can’t even recognize a face, let alone organize a rehearsal dinner. In the end, he’s always going to come back and crawl to me for help.” The three of them were huddled around the coffee table eating hotpot. Amy’s jacket lay crumpled on the floor. Jack was wearing my custom red engagement suit. I had ordered that suit half a month ago and had the tailor adjust the fitting three separate times. Becca pushed her phone toward Amy. “A bet’s a bet. I’ll cover your pre-wedding getaway. Pick whatever hotel you want.” Jack stood up and reached for my shoulder. “Sean, you’re back! Amy just wanted to teach you a lesson. Don’t let a stupid game ruin your rehearsal dinner.” I stepped back, dodging his hand. “The dinner is canceled.” Amy dropped her chopsticks. “What did you say?” “I just called the wedding coordinator. The ballroom reservation is canceled.” “Who gave you permission to cancel it?” “I signed the contract, and I paid the deposit.” Amy marched over, reaching into her pocket to snatch my phone. “Sean, there’s a limit to throwing tantrums! I told you to go to the venue alone to build your confidence. If you can’t even handle a simple setup, how are you going to be a husband?” I put my phone securely inside my bag. “You weren’t at the venue. Who was I supposed to rehearse an engagement with? Myself?” “I was just going to be a little late. If you had found the venue on your own, I naturally would have shown up.” “The note you left explicitly said to figure it out myself.” “That was said in anger! Are you seriously telling me you couldn’t tell?” I looked down at the jacket on Jack’s shoulders. “Take it off.” Jack gripped the lapels. “What?” “That is my engagement suit.” “I was just trying it on! Since the dinner is canceled, letting it sit in the closet is a waste anyway.” “That suit was tailored to my exact measurements. Doesn’t it feel uncomfortable on you?” Amy grabbed Jack’s arm to stop him. “Don’t take it off. Keep wearing it. He doesn’t know what’s good for him, so stop coddling him.” I swallowed the bitter nausea rising in my throat. “So my clothes are just available for him to wear whenever he wants?” “He’s your brother, not a stranger!” “Then what about my fiancée? Can he borrow her whenever he wants, too?” Amy’s face darkened instantly. “Watch your mouth! Jack and I are completely innocent. You have a filthy mind, so you see filth in everything.” She took a step closer, her voice laced with sharp authority. “Sean, apologize to Jack right now. Do that, and I’ll pretend this little stunt with the rehearsal dinner never happened. Tomorrow I’ll take you to buy our wedding bands.” Amy raised her hand to pinch my face playfully, but I took a sharp step backward. Her hand froze in midair, her tone dropping an octave. “Your face blindness is an illness you’ve enabled for way too long. If you don’t fix it now, what happens when we have kids? Are you going to pick up the wrong child from daycare? We do all of this for your own good!” Becca dropped a piece of cooked beef into Jack’s bowl. “Just ignore him. When he gets hungry, he’ll come out to eat on his own.” Amy pointed toward the kitchen. “Go get a bowl and chopsticks. The financial loss from canceling the dinner comes out of your personal account, and tomorrow you will reschedule with the wedding planner.” I didn’t answer. I turned around and walked straight into the bedroom. I locked the door behind me, pulled my suitcase from the closet, and placed my property deed and passport inside. Laughter soon erupted from the living room again. Becca asked, “So are we still going on the single’s trip?” Amy replied, “Of course we are. He made such a mess today, so letting him stay home and reflect on his behavior is for the best.” I dialed the number for a real estate agent. “Hello, I want to list my condo for sale. Urgent sale.” The agent asked, “Is anyone currently residing in the property?” “Starting tomorrow, you can bring buyers to view the place at any time.” The agent verified the property records. “Mr. Sean, you are listed as the sole owner, but there is an outstanding mortgage. We can transfer the title under escrow, but an urgent sale means dropping the asking price slightly. Can you accept that?” “Yes. Find a buyer within three days if possible.” “With such a tight timeline, the price might need to go even lower.” “As long as the legal procedures are solid, you can negotiate the price.” After sending over my property documents, I logged into my company’s internal portal. A managerial position had opened up at our southern branch to lead a new independent project. It was over six hundred miles away, and the application deadline was midnight tonight. I submitted my transfer request and set my start date for three days from now. I turned off my phone, packed my laptop, my legal documents, and a few changes of clothes. The next morning, I wheeled my suitcase out of the bedroom. Amy stepped into the hallway, blocking my path. “Who are you trying to impress with that suitcase? Planning to run back to your family to complain again?” “I’m going to the office.” “You bring a suitcase to work?” “It contains project files.” My phone buzzed with a text from the real estate agent: A client was coming to inspect the condo in thirty minutes. The agent already had the single-use digital lock code I provided. I needed Amy out of the apartment. “Let’s go.” Amy smirked. “See? Was it really that hard to be reasonable yesterday?” When we arrived at the luxury jewelry store, I realized Becca and Jack were already waiting inside. Jack walked up with a wide smile. “Sean, don’t get the wrong idea. Amy said having extra eyes would help give better recommendations, so I came along.” Amy handed my suitcase to a store clerk for safekeeping. “Jack has better taste than you. We’re going to wear these wedding bands for a long time, so what’s wrong with having him help take a look?” The sales associate laid out several sets of rings on a velvet tray. “You two can try them on for size first.” Just as I reached out my hand, Jack pointed to a display case nearby. “Amy, isn’t this watch gorgeous?” Jack strapped the luxury watch onto his wrist and looked at me. “Sean, what do you think?” “If you like it, buy it yourself.” Amy frowned instantly. “Is that how you talk? So you’re giving Jack an attitude over a simple gesture?” Jack immediately unbuckled the strap. “I don’t want it anymore. Please don’t fight because of me.” Becca pressed the watch box down firmly. “Amy bought it for you, so just take it. Sean ruined his own rehearsal dinner, and he still has the nerve to grudge a watch?” Amy pulled out her black card. “Box it up.” “What about our wedding bands?” I asked quietly. “With your current attitude, do you really think you deserve to have me buy you a ring?” She completed the transaction and handed the gift bag straight to Jack. “When you learn how to respect people, then we’ll buy the rings,” she said coldness in her eyes. “Respect who?” I countered softly. Jack glanced outside the glass store front. “Yesterday’s game wasn’t finished. There are plenty of people here in the mall, so let’s test you one more time. If you can pick Amy out of the crowd, I’ll give this watch back to you.” Amy agreed immediately. “Deal. If he gets it wrong again, he can forget about having a wedding for the rest of his life.” Jack had already raised his phone camera. “Sean, I’ll record it for you this time.” I didn’t move an inch. Jack pointed the lens directly at my face. “Don’t be nervous. Amy is right here in the mall. You’ve been together for five years, so you can definitely recognize her.” “I’m not playing.” Amy unbuttoned her coat and handed it to Becca. “He’s just afraid of losing. We are playing today whether he likes it or not, otherwise he’ll never fix this defect of his.” A few shop assistants from a women’s boutique downstairs were all wearing identical black trench coats. Amy put on a face mask, slipped off her signature bracelet, and let Becca lead her into the group. Before walking off, she looked back at me. “We’ll be right outside three storefronts down. If you’ve ever actually looked at me, there’s no way you’ll get it wrong.” Jack started recording. “Sean, go ahead.” “I told you, I’m not playing.” He stepped in front of me, blocking the exit. “You can’t run away every time you face a problem. We’re doing all of this just to help you become a bit more normal.” “I have mild prosopagnosia. I am not abnormal.” “I didn’t mean it like that. But if you can’t even recognize your own fiancée, Amy gets hurt too.” “She gets hurt, so she wants you to record video footage of me failing to mock me later?” Jack lowered his phone slightly. “I just wanted a memory. Once you’re cured in the future, looking back at these videos will just feel funny.” “Delete all the old videos.” “They’re already posted in the group chat, how am I supposed to delete them?” “You never had my consent to post them.” “We’re all friends here, it was just a joke! Why do you always take everything so seriously?” A sharp pain twisted in my stomach, and cold sweat broke out across my forehead. The sales associate poured a cup of warm water and handed it to me. “Sir, why don’t you take a seat first?” Jack raised his phone right back up. “Sean, stop acting like you’re sick. Amy is still waiting for you. It’s only three stores over, just walk past and take one look.” The sales associate stepped firmly between Jack’s camera lens and my face. “Sir, this gentleman explicitly stated he does not want to participate. Why are you still filming him?” “We’re his friends! He has face blindness, and we are helping him!” “Knowing he has face blindness and forcing him to identify people in public—you call that helping?” The smile vanished from Jack’s face. “This is our private business, it has nothing to do with you.” Jack clutched the jewelry bag tighter. “You don’t understand the situation at all! Sean agreed to the test himself, we didn’t force him!” I looked at him coldly. “When did I ever agree?” Amy and Becca walked back into the store. Amy demanded the moment she stepped inside, “Why didn’t you come look for me?” “Because I didn’t want to.” “I stood there for fifteen minutes, and you didn’t move a single step?” Becca pointed an accusing finger at the sales associate. “Were you the one driving a wedge between them just now? This is between Amy and her fiancé, who are you to stick your nose in?” The associate stood her ground. “He was clearly physically unwell, yet you were still pressuring him to play games. If something happens to him, are you going to take responsibility?” Amy swept a cold glance over me. “He’s an expert at playing the pity card. Whenever he gets the answer wrong, he puts on this exact miserable face.” “I am not acting.” “Then prove it to me. Go out there and try right now.” “I won’t go.” She turned her head and commanded me coldly, “Apologize to Jack, then go find me. If you can’t recognize me today, you can walk all the way home by yourself.” My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from the real estate agent popped up: The buyer accepted your asking price and has paid the earnest deposit. I’ve sent over the official contract for your digital signature. I opened the document and signed my name on the final page. Once the digital contract submitted, the agent called me directly. “Mr. Sean, the buyer is in a hurry and wants to take possession as soon as possible. The remaining mortgage will be cleared through the escrow account, and we can handle the title transfer on your behalf.” “Proceed.” “How should we handle the furniture?” “Leave everything to the buyer.” “There are personal belongings of someone else inside the unit. Are you sure you don’t need to inform her?” “The contract specifies a clear deadline for vacating the premises. Handle it according to the legal terms.” I hung up, walked over to the counter, and took my suitcase back from the clerk. Amy stepped directly in front of me. “Where do you think you’re going now?” “I have business to take care of.” “Finish today’s test first!” “I won’t.” “Then forget about buying the rings! And don’t bother coming to tonight’s single’s party either!” I walked right around them and headed straight out of the jewelry store. Amy didn’t chase after me. Her voice echoed coldly from behind: “Let him go! He can’t even recognize roads properly. In half an hour, he’ll be calling me begging for help.” I got into a taxi and immediately received a message from my company’s HR department: Sean, your transfer request has been approved. The southern branch requires you on-site as soon as possible. What is the earliest you can report? I can report tomorrow. The project is urgent, so the company will reimburse today’s flight ticket. I checked the flight schedule—there was a flight departing in two hours. I booked it on the spot. Amy called my phone, but I let it ring. Notifications flooded our four-person group chat. Amy typed: No need to wait for him. Tonight we go to the lounge. Let him reflect outside by himself. When he learns his lesson and apologizes, then he can come back. Becca replied: I’ve already booked the hotel. Next week we head straight to the resort for an early getaway. Amy: He ruined the rehearsal dinner, so he lost the right to go. Just the three of us. Upon reaching the airport terminal, the wedding coordinator called me one last time. “Mr. Sean, Miss Amy called inquiring about the rehearsal dinner. She refused to accept the cancellation and demanded we reinstate the booking.” “I signed the contract. She has no legal right to reinstate it.” “She also insisted that you bear the full penalty fee.” “Deduct it from my deposit.” “The remaining balance will be refunded within seven business days.” “Understood.” After completing check-in, I handed my luggage over to the airline staff. Group chat notifications were still flashing. I tapped the settings button and left the group chat permanently. Amy’s call came through again. This time, I answered. “Sean, where the hell did you run off to?” “Is there something you need?” “Get over to the lounge right now! Jack is willing to forgive you. Apologize to his face, and we can put today behind us.” “I am not coming.” “Don’t throw away my patience! The condo is our home. If you don’t show up tonight, don’t bother coming back to sleep!” “Okay.” Amy paused, caught off guard. “What do you mean ‘okay’?” “It means exactly what I said.” “Are you hiding somewhere crying again? I’m telling you, that trick doesn’t work on me anymore! If you’re so tough, don’t ever come back!” “Got it.” I ended the call, systematically deleted Amy, Becca, and Jack from my contacts, and added all three numbers to my block list. When the boarding call sounded over the speakers, I powered down my phone. Right before the plane lifted off the tarmac, a final message arrived from the real estate agent: Mr. Sean, the buyer will inspect the property tomorrow morning and change the digital locks. Is that acceptable? I typed back two simple words: It is.

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1 On the final day of our graduation trip, a freak heatwave struck Death Valley. I ended up with severe heat exhaustion, but my girlfriend gave our only bottle of electrolyte water to her male best friend. “You’re fit, Connor. You know wilderness first aid. Just drink some regular water and walk it off.” “But Ollie is different. He’s always had a weak constitution. If he doesn’t get these electrolytes, he could pass out.” My head was spinning so violently I could barely keep my eyes open. Arguing was out of the question, so I turned to our other teammates for help. They just rolled their eyes at me. “Bro, isn’t this jealousy thing going a bit far?” “Jane is just taking care of the sick guy. You’re a grown man. Stop acting like you’re on your deathbed.” As the group packed up to keep moving, Jane looked down at me with a deep frown. “Do you seriously have to ruin the vibe right now?” “Fine. You stay right here and think about your attitude. Whenever you realize how childish you’re being, you can catch up.” What she didn’t know was that my body had already stopped sweating. I was showing all the classic signs of a fatal heatstroke. She also didn’t know that the moment she walked away, a mechanical voice echoed in my mind. [Critical condition detected. Host’s vitals are failing. Initiate world transfer?] I peacefully closed my eyes. “I accept.” … “Connor, haven’t you thrown enough of a tantrum?” “Ollie feels so guilty about you giving him attitude that he’s too scared to even take a sip of water.” “You play basketball for hours on end. You sit by the lake fishing in the dead of summer without a single complaint. What exactly are you faking right now?” “You just had to pretend to be weak to make the whole team feel bad, didn’t you?” I had no idea how much time had passed. Jane’s impatient voice crackled through the walkie talkie attached to my backpack. Immediately after, Oliver’s guilt ridden voice chimed in. “Jane, please don’t be mad at him.” “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have taken that electrolyte water.” “Connor is definitely furious with me. Maybe I should walk back and give him the rest of the bottle.” Jane’s tone instantly softened. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “The blister on your heel is already popping. If you walk all the way back, it could get infected. Then what?” “He’s just taking advantage of my good temper to play the victim.” “Ignore him. Once he gets bored of this little stunt, he’ll crawl right back to us.” The other teammates started chiming in on the frequency. “Exactly, Ollie. Why do you even care?” “Connor is just spoiled by Jane. He acts like he owns her, throwing a fit over every little thing.” “We’re all getting roasted alive out here. Nobody has time for his pity party.” “A grown man sitting in the dirt playing dead for his girlfriend’s attention. It’s honestly embarrassing.” I desperately wanted to drag my body over to my backpack, grab the radio, and tell them I wasn’t faking. But my muscles were completely paralyzed. I couldn’t move an inch. The chatter on the radio continued. The mechanical voice in my head spoke again. [Transfer sequence confirmed. World jump countdown initialized. Thirty minutes remaining.] At that exact moment, a chorus of cheers erupted from the walkie talkie. “A truck! It’s a Ranger truck!” “Thank God! We don’t have to walk anymore!” A rough, unfamiliar man’s voice came through the speaker. “You guys the Apex Explorers?” “Did anyone bother checking the forecast? Ground temperature is pushing a hundred and thirty degrees today. Are you all crazy walking into the basin?” Jane’s voice was perfectly polite. “I am so sorry, Officer. We misjudged the weather.” “One of my guys injured his foot and has mild heatstroke. Could you please give him a ride back to the base camp?” I heard the sound of a clipboard flipping. “Getting him in the truck is no problem.” “But your permit lists eight people. I only see seven of you here.” “Where is your eighth member?” For a split second, I thought I was finally going to be saved. Then I heard Jane’s calm, steady voice echo through the speaker. “Oh, that member.” “He had a family emergency and had to hike out early. It’s just the seven of us now.” The rest of the team stayed totally silent, covering for her lie. The Ranger didn’t suspect a thing. “Alright. Let’s get the injured guy in the cab. We’ve got max AC and ice water in there.” “The rest of you need to stop pushing it. Follow the main trail back immediately.” Just as despair swallowed me whole, Jane’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper on the radio. “Connor, I know you can hear me.” “The Ranger truck only has two empty seats. Ollie’s foot is hurt and he needs the medic tent. Every minute we wait for you is another minute he risks infection.” “Don’t you dare press that button and embarrass us right now.” “Walk back to camp slowly. Tonight, I’ll take you to get that BBQ ribs you love.” The hundred and thirty degree heat mercilessly baked the earth. The sound of the truck engine faded into the distance. I could hear everything happening inside the cab with agonizing clarity. “Whoa, this AC is freezing.” “Jane, I’m actually a little cold.” The rustling of fabric came through the speaker. Jane’s voice was dripping with affection. “Here, put my windbreaker on. We don’t want you catching a cold.” “Take slow sips of that ice water to cool down. Don’t choke.” I was out here being roasted alive by the desert sun. Meanwhile, her male best friend was sipping ice water, completely wrapped in her tender care. The sheer betrayal sparked a final surge of adrenaline. I used every ounce of my remaining strength to drag my body toward the backpack. Oliver’s voice filtered through again. “Jane, is Connor really going to be okay out there all alone?” “The sun is brutal today, and he doesn’t even have a drop of electrolytes.” Jane let out a light laugh. She couldn’t have sounded more dismissive. “What could possibly happen to him?” “He still has half a bottle of regular water in his bag. Plus, he practically lives at the gym. His stamina is way better than yours.” “Knowing him, he’s probably hiding in the shade behind some dune, waiting for me to drive back and beg him to come with us.” “I absolutely refuse to humor his toxic behavior.” The teammates trekking behind the truck chimed in to agree. “Ollie, stop worrying about that jealous freak.” “He’s just mad that our boss treats you well. He’s trying to make everyone miserable.” “Imagine threatening to break up and faking an illness just to scare your girl. What a loser.” “Once he gets thirsty and hungry enough, he’ll come crawling back with his tail between his legs.” My trembling fingers finally brushed against the backpack. With the absolute last sliver of life I possessed, I pressed the talk button. “Help…” The chatter on the other end instantly died. Ten full seconds of agonizing silence passed. Then, Jane’s voice came through, colder than ice. “Connor, your tactics for getting attention are getting pathetic.” “This is the Apex Explorers’ public channel. It’s for emergencies, not a toy for your jealous tantrums!” Oliver whispered softly in the background. “Jane, he really sounds like he’s in pain. Maybe we should ask the Ranger to turn around?” Jane scoffed with pure disgust. “Turn around for what?” “The blister on your foot is about to burst. Every second matters before it gets infected.” “He’s a guy with a wilderness survival certificate! Does he lack basic common sense?” “Connor, listen to what you are doing!” “Ollie is hurt, and you’re out there throwing a fit over your own fragile ego!” “If you dare clog up this channel one more time, I am kicking you off this team permanently!” Before I could even breathe, a sharp beep echoed. She had manually booted my frequency from the channel. My last chance at survival evaporated into the scorching air. The mechanical voice in my head chimed in. [Countdown complete.] [Host vitals have reached zero.] [Soul detachment sequence initiated.] [Lingering emotional tether detected. Activating spectator mode.] When my consciousness returned, my soul was floating weightlessly in the air. Guided by instinct, I drifted miles away, straight to the base camp clinic. Jane was carefully helping Oliver out of the truck, supporting his weight as they walked into the medical tent. “Doctor! Please, you need to look at his foot!” The old army medic stationed at the camp adjusted his reading glasses. He grabbed an iodine swab and leaned in close. He stared at it for a long time, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. “A blister?” “The edges aren’t even red. The skin hasn’t even broken. You called in an emergency Ranger evac for a blister?” Jane stepped protectively in front of Oliver. She looked dead serious. “Doctor, he has a very weak constitution.” “Out in the desert, bacteria is everywhere. If this gets infected and leads to sepsis, it’s a massive issue.” “Please use your best antibiotics on him. I’ll cover whatever it costs.” The old medic shook his head in sheer disbelief. He tossed a standard band aid onto the table. “Just stick this on it. Keep it dry.” The medic walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He glanced out the window, his face grim. “The heat out there is wicked today. Ground temps hit a hundred and forty an hour ago.” “Are you absolutely certain nobody else from your group is still out there?” “In this kind of weather, a man left outside for two hours wouldn’t even be saved by God himself.” Jane walked over to the water cooler and poured a cup of ice water. She carefully tested the temperature against her wrist before handing it to Oliver. Her tone was incredibly firm. No hesitation at all. “No one is out there.” “The guy who left early runs marathons every month. He’s built like a tank.” “Right now, he’s probably sitting in a five star hotel back in the city, soaking in a bathtub with the AC on full blast.” The rest of the team pushed open the tent flaps just in time to hear her. They immediately joined in on the mockery. “Exactly. Connor is way too smart to actually suffer.” “He just wanted to play dead to see the boss panic.” “Too bad she didn’t fall for it. I bet he’s ordering a cold beer at the bar right now.” Oliver sat on the edge of the cot. He bit his lip, looking the picture of innocence. “I wonder if Connor kept his radio on. I’m worried he can’t reach us.” Jane patted his shoulder comfortingly. “His radio is right in his bag. Stop worrying about him.” “Once he realizes no one is playing his game, he’ll come back and apologize on his own.” She turned to the rest of the crew, falling right back into her leader persona. “Ollie went through a huge shock today. He gets the only room with air conditioning tonight.” “The rest of you, bust out the camping stoves. We’re having a feast tonight to celebrate surviving the trek.” I drifted near the ceiling of the medical tent. I watched them laughing. I watched them erase my existence completely. The sun finally dipped below the horizon. A massive bonfire crackled to life in the center of the camp. Oliver pulled out his phone and snapped a candid picture of Jane cooking over the flames. Floating above him, I clearly saw the post he uploaded to Instagram. [Some people try to prove their importance by walking away.] [What they don’t realize is that the people who truly care will worry over your smallest frown.] [Blessed to have you. Desert survival trip is a success.] Within a minute, a string of likes and comments flooded the post. It was every single member of the Apex Explorers. “You and Jane are seriously soulmates!” “That toxic jealous boyfriend doesn’t deserve a woman as amazing as her.” “Someone is probably scrolling through this from his hotel room, punching the air right now, LMAO.” Jane walked over holding a plate of grilled ribs. She checked her smartwatch, her eyebrows knitting together. “Has Connor messaged the group chat yet?” Jax didn’t even look up from his food. “Nope. Not even a single emoji.” “Just drop it, boss. He’s probably sitting at that gas station on the edge of the highway, waiting for you to cave and pick him up.” “What a drama queen. It’s been hours, you’d think he’d be hungry by now.” Jane shoved the plate of ribs into Oliver’s hands and pulled her car keys out of her pocket. “I am not letting him get away with this.” “Everyone except Ollie, get in the SUV. We’re driving out to get him.” The crew groaned, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Why are we babying him? Let him learn his lesson.” Jane let out a sharp, cold laugh. “I’m bringing you guys so he can apologize to every single one of you, face to face.” “This team isn’t his personal playground for his temper tantrums.” “He wasted all of our time today. He needs to own up to it.” Oliver immediately stood up. “I’m coming too.” “I know Connor crossed the line, but he’s still my bro. When you guys lay into him later, I need to be there to run interference.” After soaking in another wave of praise for his endless kindness, Oliver climbed into the passenger seat. I followed their SUV as it drove straight back toward my corpse. Half an hour later, the headlights swept across the exact sand dune where they had abandoned me. Inside the car, the annoyed chatter instantly died. Jax pointed a trembling finger at the windshield. “Boss… that guy…” Jane followed his gaze and saw my grotesquely twisted body lying in the dirt. Her pupils shrank. She practically fell out of the car, sprinting toward the sand. “Connor!”

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I was born deaf and mute. My entire relationship with my boyfriend existed through typed messages on our phones. Wanting to surprise him on our anniversary, I secretly bought a pair of high-tech glasses that transcribed ambient speech into real-time text directly onto the lenses. While waiting for him to get off work, I decided to try them on in the bathroom after my shower just to admire myself. I never expected two lines of text to flash across the display: “Bro, when are we moving in?” “Don’t rush. Wait till she comes out. Be careful this time. We can’t end up playing her to death like the last one!” 1 At first, I thought the glasses were malfunctioning. But the next two transcribed sentences sent me plummeting into an icy abyss. “Man, when she was trying on outfits earlier, I could barely hold myself back!” “It was just a nurse costume. Get a grip, you pathetic bastard!” Reading those words, a terrifying chill shot from the soles of my feet straight to the top of my head. Today was my one-year anniversary with my boyfriend. Besides the glasses, I had bought a seductive nurse outfit, hoping to give him an unforgettable night. I never dreamed that while I was trying it on, two twisted predators were hiding inside my home. The fact that they dared to communicate so openly meant they knew I was deaf and mute. It also meant their presence here was no random act of violence. It was a calculated ambush. “Bro, you talk big, but you were drooling too…” “Shut your mouth!” “Heh. She’s gorgeous and her body is insane. Shame she’s a mute and can’t scream. Still, way better than that kindergarten teacher from a few days ago!” The kindergarten teacher! My knees went weak, and I nearly collapsed onto the wet tiles. A few days ago, a young female teacher in the industrial district was brutally raped and murdered. Her naked body had been covered in horrific wounds, her fingernails caked with wood splinters. Before being strangled to death, she had endured unspeakable torture. The killer was still at large, plunging the entire city into panic. I never imagined these two monsters hadn’t fled the city. Worse, they had chosen me as their next target. I couldn’t just sit here and wait to die. I needed to call the police immediately. Then terror struck me. My phone wasn’t in the bathroom. I had left it on the living room table. “Why is she taking so long? Bro, should I go check on her?” “Stay put! Idiot, last time you moved too early and almost spooked the target. Wait until she drinks the medicine before we move!” The medicine? I suddenly remembered the mug of hot flu medicine I had brewed right before stepping into the shower. It had been too hot to drink, so I left it to cool on the dining table. They must have spiked it with sleeping pills. A spark of clarity pierced my panic. As long as I hadn’t consumed that drink, I was safe. They were waiting for the drug to take effect. Holding my breath, I turned off the shower and dried myself off. I even took my time tapping toner onto my face, forcing myself to sound normal. When I reached for my clothes, I realized my nightgown was still sitting on the bed in the adjoining bedroom. I had no choice but to step out completely bare. The bedroom was dimly lit by a faint nightlight. I scanned the room casually. The only place big enough to hide a human body was under the bed. Even though I forced myself not to look directly down, my peripheral vision caught it anyway. My blood ran cold. Under the edge of the bed frame, I saw half a face. A single eye gleamed with filthy desire, and a bright red tongue was slowly licking a pair of dry lips. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. Walking calmly to the bedside, I grabbed my nightgown and pulled it over my head. The moment the hem brushed my legs, I felt a wave of skin-crawling warmth near my ankles. A hand was hovering inches from my bare flesh. One quick snap of that wrist, and I would be dragged down into an inescapable nightmare. Fortunately, I pulled the gown down fast. Trembling internally, I walked out of the bedroom and headed toward the dining table. This spot was out of their direct line of sight. I snatched my phone and instantly sent a silent text to emergency services. The reply came quickly: Officers were dispatched, estimated arrival in twenty minutes. I needed to find a safe place to hide. Twenty minutes. Surviving twenty minutes in a small apartment with two ruthless murderers was impossible. I had to escape. To reach the front door, I would have to walk right past them. I needed a bulletproof excuse to open that door. Three seconds later, I grabbed the kitchen trash bag and walked steadily toward the entrance. Predictably, they noticed. “Bro, why is she throwing out trash now? Did she see me earlier? Is she trying to run?” By the time those words flashed on my lenses, I was already at the door. Just as I reached out, thinking freedom was within my grasp, another line of text popped up: “What are you scared of? We’ve got someone posted outside. She’s not going anywhere!” 2 My hand shook so violently I almost dropped the doorknob. Memory flooded back to an hour ago. I had picked up the package containing these glasses at the delivery locker and put them on immediately. I lived on the neglected outskirts of town. To get home, I had to walk through a pitch-black, narrow alley without streetlights. The moment I entered the alley, text had appeared on the lenses: “Thump, thump, thump (Footsteps).” It was impressive technology, capable of picking up sound cues. I found it novel, so I softened my pace. Yet the glasses kept transcribing. Then, the words shifted: “Bro, she’s almost home.” I had turned around, but the alley behind me was empty. I assumed the sound came from behind the courtyard walls along the path, so I paid it no mind. It wasn’t until I reached my building and passed under a streetlamp that I noticed two shadows stretched out on the pavement behind me. Someone had stalked me all the way to my front door. And that person was standing right on the other side of the frame. I dug my fingernails into my palms, forcing myself to stay composed. I had already picked up the trash bag. I had to open this door, or they would know something was wrong. Grit my teeth, I pulled the door open. The hallway sensor light flickered on, revealing a dark figure standing right on the threshold. A thick, heavy hand reached out directly for my throat. My heart stopped beating. The next second, the hand grabbed my wrist gently and held a phone screen in front of my eyes. [Where are you going?] Relief flooded my chest as I recognized the phone cover. It was my boyfriend. Before I could process it, he gently guided me back inside and seated me at the dining table. He typed quickly: [I’ll take out the trash. Drink your medicine and rest. You’re sick.] He was as gentle and attentive as always. Seeing him turn toward the door, panic seized me again. I grabbed his sleeve. We couldn’t separate now. I typed back frantically: [Babe, I want to go out for tacos instead.] I didn’t dare tell him about the killers in the house, terrified he might react recklessly and provoke them. [You have a cold. Let’s do it another day. I brought your favorite braised pork ribs, I’ll heat them up for you.] [No, today is our anniversary. We need to celebrate properly.] He reached out and gently ruffled my hair. [You usually hate eating out. What’s going on with you tonight?] Tears stung my eyes. Even though he was a few years older, he had always taken care of me with meticulous patience. Two sentences in, and he already knew something was off. Just as I opened my mouth to figure out how to warn him, alarm bells suddenly shattered my thoughts. My boyfriend always used spaces instead of punctuation marks when texting. Always. The man sitting in front of me had typed every single comma and period with flawless precision. This man was not my boyfriend. 3 I glanced down at his hands. Thick veins bulged across the dark skin, utterly unlike my boyfriend’s softer, plumper hands. Because they had similar builds, and because he wore a black face mask under the dim hallway lighting, I hadn’t realized it right away. He typed another message, prompting me: [Talk to me. What’s wrong with you today?] I forced my tears back and pouted playfully: [It’s our one-year anniversary! I wanted to give you a special surprise!] He pressed on: [What surprise?] As he typed, the cuff of his jacket shifted slightly. A smear of fresh blood stained the dark fabric. It belonged to my real boyfriend. My stomach churned, tears threatening to spill over. I typed out carefully: [I bought a super sexy outfit. I’m going to put it on right now so you can see.] I grabbed the nurse costume off the chair and turned toward the spare bedroom. His hand clamped down around my wrist like a iron vice. Through the dim light, his eyes held no warmth whatsoever. [Don’t rush. Drink your medicine first. It’s getting cold.] There was no escaping this. I gave a heavy nod, picked up the mug, and gulped the lukewarm liquid down in one go. Then I hurried into the spare bedroom and threw the lock. Setting my phone down, I sent him a quick text: [I’m going to do my makeup. No peeking!] The moment he replied with a playful emoji, I pulled a thick duvet over my head and shoved two fingers deep down my throat. A minute later, staring at the vomited mess on the bedding, silent tears streamed down my face. My real boyfriend was dead. And I probably wouldn’t survive long enough for the police to arrive. We were quiet, harmless people who had never wronged a soul in our lives. Why was this happening to us? Text flashed across my glasses again: “Nice work, Rick. You played him like a fool. Where’d you hide his body?” “Can’t tell you that, Boss. I hid him somewhere so good nobody will ever find him.” Reading those words, I wiped the tears from my cheeks and stood up. My boyfriend had cared for me for over a year. I couldn’t let him die without even leaving a body behind to be laid to rest. I had to survive. “Fine, you get the credit this time. You get to go first with the girl.” “Thanks, Boss. When do we go in?” “The sleeping pills take five minutes to hit. Give it a little longer.” They really had spiked the drink. I checked the time. I had less than three minutes before they realized I wasn’t falling asleep. The police wouldn’t make it in time. I had to rely on myself. The only exit left in this bedroom was the window. I lived on the third floor. There were no ledges or pipes to step on outside. Jumping meant death. Bedsheets! I could tie the sheets together into a makeshift rope. I yanked the sheets off the bed and tied them tight, but when I dropped them out the window, they were far too short. Suddenly, a lit window directly across the alley caught my attention. These old townhouses were built extremely close together. The distance between my window and the opposite building was less than five feet. If someone on the other side reached out, they could easily help me cross! Even better, the tenant living across was a polite man named Mr. Warren, who had moved in just a few days ago. I had helped him carry some boxes on his move-in day, and he had been so grateful that he added me on messaging, promising to buy me dinner sometime. He could save me. I threw several small items across the gap, bouncing them off his glass, but there was no response. Was he not home? No, the lights were clearly on. Even if he stepped out, he had to be nearby. Desperate, I pulled out my phone and messaged him: [Mr. Warren, please help me! Come home quickly!] Sweat slicked my hands as I waited, terrified he was too busy to check his phone. To my shock, his reply came back almost instantly: [What happened? What’s wrong?] Before I could type another word, the glasses flashed a new line of transcribed speech: “Boss! She just texted me!” 4 My scalp went completely numb. The polite, soft-spoken Mr. Warren was one of the killers. “What did she send you? Let me see… Damn it, this bitch found us out!” A sudden shudder ran through me, and I whipped around. The wooden bedroom door rattled violently as heavy boots slammed against it. “She locked the door from the inside! She’s trying to run! Move out of the way, I’ll kick it open!” If they broke through, I was dead. I had to gamble everything on one crazy bluff. I scrambled onto the bed, pulled up my skirt, snapped a quick selfie, and hit send. The violent thudding against the door abruptly stopped. “Wait, Boss! She sent me another message. It’s a photo! What the hell does this mean?” In the photo, I had pulled up my hem to reveal my bare legs. Under the low light, my eyes were half-lidded, painted with heavy, seductive desire. “Boss… I think she’s trying to hit on me.” “Don’t be an idiot! She asked for help earlier, she obviously knows we’re here!” “Hold on! Let me ask her. She can’t run anywhere anyway, what’s the harm? Boss, please, just let me reply!” A second later, my phone buzzed. [What is this picture supposed to mean?] Seeing that notification, my frantically pounding heart slowed just a fraction. He was my last sliver of hope. If I couldn’t hook him, I was dead. I deliberately waited a few painful seconds before replying: [Mr. Warren, do I look pretty?] The glasses immediately transcribed his vocal reaction: “Hahaha! Forty years on this earth, and a woman is finally coming on to me… Boss, watch me play hard to get!” My phone buzzed again: [You’re very pretty. But I deleted the photo. You have a boyfriend, you shouldn’t be doing this.] I typed back instantly: [Don’t talk about that useless loser! He wouldn’t even take me out for dinner on our anniversary… I don’t know why, but I feel so tired and dizzy right now. Every time I close my eyes, I just see you carrying those boxes without your shirt on… so manly… Mr. Warren, can you come help me?] Even without hearing his voice, the transcribed text conveyed his mounting excitement clearly. “Damn, she’s so desperate! Boss, Rick, I’m begging you guys, let me go first tonight! I want to feel what it’s like when a girl actually wants me!” “I still think she’s playing you.” “Screw off! Look at these muscles, what woman doesn’t want this? Boss, come on, please?” “Whatever. If something goes wrong, don’t blame me.” “She’s trapped like a rat, she can’t escape! Heh!” A moment later, his text arrived: [This isn’t right… How am I supposed to help you?] [I don’t know, I just miss you… It feels terrible… But my boyfriend is still out in the living room. Never mind, forget I said anything…] [Don’t wait! Stay right there, I’ll lure him away and come straight to your room!] [I’m so sleepy… You better hurry…] A few seconds passed before his final message popped up: [Okay, he stepped outside for a moment. Open the door quickly, I’m right outside.] [Wait, Mr. Warren, are you serious?… Okay, I’m opening it now…] I suppressed a wave of nausea, drew a sharp breath, and walked to the door. I didn’t open it right away. Instead, I peered through the tiny gap under the frame. Sure enough, there was only one pair of shoes standing there. This was the critical moment. The instant I unlocked the door, a completely nude Mr. Warren lunged inside, wrapping his thick arms around me and pressing his foul, reeking mouth toward mine. I twisted my head away to dodge his lips, reaching behind his back to throw the lock again. Blinded by lust, he didn’t even notice. He shoved me roughly toward the bed, his dirty hands grabbing at my body. Enduring intense disgust, I let him push me, guiding his weight step by step toward the open window. When my back hit the window sill, I suddenly pivoted, pinning him back against the frame. Because he was short, he instinctively yielded to my movement, stepping backward until he was sitting precariously on the low ledge. Just as he grinned, expecting me to service him, I summoned every ounce of strength I had and shoved him backward with all my weight. Text flashed across my lenses: “Aaagh!” Then, absolute silence. 5 By the time I crawled under the spare bedroom’s bed, the remaining two men realized something was wrong. Text flickered wildly across my glasses. “What happened? Rick! Open the damn door! Speak up, you bastard!” “Boss, move back, I’m kicking it in!” “BANG!” “Boss, look! There’s a rope made of bedsheets tied to the frame! That bitch… she tied the sheets together! Rick! Boss, look down there, there’s a shoe on the pavement! The bitch jumped!” “Rick! That bastard… If he survived that fall, I’m going to kill him myself!” “Boss, we need to move now! If the cops show up, we’re all done for!” “Don’t panic. You stay and guard the front door! I’ll go down and check. Falling from this height, even if she’s alive, she couldn’t have crawled far!” The leader wasn’t completely fooled. He had left one man behind at the main door. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t escape the apartment, but I could stay hidden until the police arrived. However, this spare bedroom was no longer safe. Once the leader ran downstairs, I slithered out from under the bed on all fours. Checking to make sure the living room was clear, I crawled into the master bedroom and squeezed beneath the main bed frame. The most dangerous place was the safest place. They would never expect me to loop back into the main bedroom. Despair was easy to endure; it was the agonizing tick of hope that burned away at my sanity. I checked the time on my phone every five seconds. On the thirteenth check, the glasses picked up approaching footsteps in the hallway outside. Barely a minute had passed. Had they come back already? Or was it the police? The transcribed words shattered my hope. It was the killers. “Boss, you didn’t catch her? How could she move so fast?” Curiously, the leader didn’t answer right away. After a heavy pause, his transcribed speech appeared: “Third, come here. Pull on this sheet rope.” I didn’t understand his motive, but the dread in my chest flared back up. “See that? It came loose with one light tug… Did you see anyone leave through the front door while I was downstairs?” “No! I stood right by the entrance the whole time. Nobody came out.” “She didn’t jump. She’s still inside this apartment.” That single sentence was like a sledgehammer crushing my ribs. “Bitch! Trying to play me… Is she here? No! Not here either. Looks like she isn’t in this room.” I was trapped. The two bedrooms faced each other directly. Once they finished searching the spare room, the master bedroom was next. I pressed my back as far into the dark corner beneath the headboard as possible, squeezing against the wall. It wasn’t enough. The moment they crouched down to look, they would spot me instantly. I needed to distract them. Using my boyfriend’s phone, I sent a text straight to the leader: [I already called the cops. They’ll be here any second. You guys are dead!] Sure enough, a dark shadow froze right in the doorway of the master bedroom. “Boss, she just texted me.” “What did she say?” “Read it yourself… Boss, maybe we should just run. What if she really did call the police…” “SMACK!” “Use your brain! She’s a deaf-mute! How the hell could a mute call emergency services?” The shadow stepped back and disappeared into the hallway. A few seconds later, the glasses displayed another string of words: “I don’t know how you’re doing this, but I know you can hear me. Listen close: when I catch you, I’m going to skin you inch by inch! Third, text her and ask where she’s hiding.” Reading that, a strange realization clicked in my head. He was smart enough to figure out I could hear them, yet stupid enough to ask where I was hiding, as if I would tell him. Just as I pulled up the police dispatch confirmation screenshot to send him a final bluff, the entire room plunged into pitch darkness. The main breaker clicked off. The killer had cut the power. 6 In total darkness, if I dared to send a message, the screen’s light would give away my position instantly. But if I remained silent, it would confirm I was still hiding in the apartment. Worse, my nightgown was so sheer it did nothing to block the glow of a screen… While I panicked, the leader issued his next order: “No reply yet? She’s definitely still in the apartment. You search the master bedroom, I’ll check the living room. I’m skinning her alive tonight!” “Boss, I really think we should leave. What if the cops show up?” “Shut up! You want Rick to have died for nothing?” “He was led around by his dick, he deserved it…” “SMACK! Shut up and go search!” “Fine.” It was obvious the third guy was reluctant. His boots stopped near the foot of the bed for a few seconds, but he didn’t lower himself to check underneath. Instead, he shuffled toward the wardrobe. Now was my chance. While his back was turned to open the closet doors, I muted my phone, pulled up Rick’s contact, and hit the voice call button. Rick had undressed right near the spare bedroom doorway earlier. His phone was sitting on the floor out there. “Boss! Rick’s phone is ringing! Is it that woman calling?” The third guy rushed out of the room to search for the ringing phone. I seized the opening, sent the police dispatch screenshot to his phone, and added a message: [Your time is up. Enjoy prison.] Seeing the image, the third guy panicked. “Boss! Look! Look at this, she really did contact the police! We have to go! She’s definitely already escaped!” “Bullshit! If she had escaped, she’d try to trick us into thinking she was still inside so we’d get caught! Are you stupid?” Reading those transcribed words, I wanted to punch myself. Why hadn’t I thought of claiming I was still inside to lure them to stay? “Boss, look at the time! The twenty minutes are almost up! Even if she’s still here, we’re running out of time. Let’s leave now and come back for her later!” “Fuck you! Since when do you tell me what to do?” The glasses transcribed a rapid series of harsh slaps. “I’ve killed plenty of people, and I’ve never been played by a woman! If I don’t slaughter her tonight, I won’t sleep a wink! You won’t search? Fine! I’ll search myself!” “Boss, you’re crazy! If you won’t leave, I am! Have fun getting caught!” The third guy’s heavy footsteps hurried toward the front door and disappeared. Only the leader remained, walking heavily into the master bedroom. “I know you’re in here. Come on out. Don’t count on the cops saving you, you can’t run! What do you say? Will you come out yourself… or should I come find you?” He wasn’t bluffing. Police cars couldn’t drive into these narrow, dense alleys. Even with GPS tracking, navigating this maze on foot would take time. They wouldn’t locate this exact door instantly. I had to fight for my life. My fingers wrapped around a heavy iron pipe I had pulled from under the bed frame earlier. I braced myself. The second his head lowered, I would drive it straight into his face. “Not in the closet… then you must be under the bed.” A large hand gripping a butcher knife pressed down against the floorboards. Slowly, his dark head ducked down beneath the frame. I instantly flipped my phone flashlight to maximum brightness, blinding him point-blank. While he raised a hand to guard his eyes, I thrust the iron pipe forward with everything I had. He caught it effortlessly. Under the harsh white glare, his eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted into a grotesque, jagged grin. “Found you, sweetheart.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616402”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel