Category: English

I took three days of sick leave for a minor surgery. When I returned, the whole school was spreading rumors—that I’d gone to get an abortion. Ava posted my photo from behind on the forum with a caption: “If you know, you know.” I tried to explain. No one listened. I pulled out my medical records. They said it could be forged. My homeroom teacher only said four words: “The innocent need no defense.” Later, thugs blocked me at the school gate, calling me “cheap.” After that, I swallowed half a bottle of sleeping pills. My mom held my ice-cold body and wailed all night. The next day, she hanged herself from the old oak tree. Then I opened my eyes again. My phone screen was lit. Ava’s post had been up for just nine minutes. This time, I didn’t type out an explanation. I pulled up a photo I’d casually taken at the hospital three days ago— Ava herself, standing in front of the OB-GYN registration window. I clicked reply, attached the photo, and typed a line: “What a coincidence. Are you here for an abortion too?” **Chapter One** A dull ache throbbed in my lower abdomen. I lay on my side in my rented room, staring at the peeling white paint on the wall, waiting for the pain to pass. Third day after my ovarian cyst removal surgery. The stitched incision pulled and twinged with every movement. My phone vibrated under my pillow. Once. Twice. Then it wouldn’t stop. I fished it out. The screen glared painfully bright. Notifications from the school forum flooded in. The message count stuck at “99+”. I clicked in. Pinned post. Bold red title— “Sophomore Class 6 girl takes sick leave? I ran into her at the OB-GYN, if you know what I mean.” The attached image showed someone from behind. Hospital gown, clutching a blue medical file folder, hair down, walking out of the OB-GYN corridor. It was me. Posted by—Ava. The comments had exploded. “Holy shit, that bookworm from Class 6? Her image just collapsed?” “Three days sick leave, OB-GYN, hahaha I get it.” “Getting an abortion and openly taking leave? That’s bold.” “Ava never misses when she calls someone out. Waiting for the original poster to explain.” “Poor thing, even teacher’s pets have their day.” I gripped my phone. My knuckles turned white. The swelling pain spread from my abdomen to my stomach, acid rising to my throat. Then the memories came crashing down. I remembered the stares in the hallway when I returned to school. I remembered the two red words spray-painted on my desk. I remembered showing them my medical records to explain, and someone rolling their eyes and saying “probably forged.” I remembered my homeroom teacher leaning back in his chair, fingers tapping the desk: “The innocent need no defense. Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.” I remembered the thugs blocking me at the school gate calling me “cheap.” I remembered the note slipped under my dorm door that said “go die.” I remembered my mom standing at the office door with a bag of farm eggs, smiling apologetically and saying “Teacher, please help,” then getting pushed out and her knee hitting the threshold. I remembered counting sleeping pills that night. When I got to the thirty-seventh pill, my hand shook. I remembered that my final conscious moment was filled only with blurred wailing. My mom collapsed over my already-cold body, crying until she couldn’t breathe. The next day. She joined me at the old oak tree by our house. I gasped sharply, my spine jerking away from the mattress. The surgical incision in my lower abdomen tore with a line of searing pain. Real pain. I looked down and saw the gauze bulging under my hospital gown. The stitches had been removed today. I’d returned to my rental this morning. The post on my phone— I glanced at the posting time. Nine minutes ago. I was alive again. My heartbeat hammered against my ribs. Heavy and dull. At this moment in my past life, I’d been crying under my covers. I’d cried all night, drafted over a dozen explanatory messages, deleting and retyping, typing and deleting. The next day I’d returned to school with swollen red eyes and medical records, beginning the final month countdown of my life. This time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t type. I opened my photo album and scrolled back. Three days ago in the hospital waiting area, I’d casually snapped a photo of the lobby to send my mom and let her know I was okay. In the bottom right corner of the photo, in front of the OB-GYN registration window, stood a person. High ponytail, white T-shirt, school jacket draped over her forearm. Her ID card sat on the counter. Ava. In my past life, I’d never opened that photo a second time. Back then I’d been too busy explaining, begging, being afraid. I couldn’t even hold onto my own life. Who had time to wonder why Ava was at the OB-GYN too? But this life was different. This life, I knew. I opened the forum and found Ava’s post. 1,200 comments already. I pressed “reply.” Uploaded the photo. Typed word by word— “What a coincidence. Are you here for an abortion too?” Send. I set down my phone and lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. The incision still hurt. But something in my chest had ignited, rising from my stomach, burning until my eyes stung. It wasn’t grief. It was hate. In my past life, I’d begged everyone on my knees. This life, no more kneeling. Half an hour later, I picked up my phone. Comment count: 1,487. The top comments had completely changed. “Wait wait wait, Ava was at the OB-GYN too??” “I zoomed in—that really is Ava!” “The timestamps match! Same day!” “So when Ava was photographing someone else, she was registering herself??” “The bookworm just counterattacked hahaha!” “Ava babe, who really got the abortion?” “Waiting for the school belle to respond.” My inbox had exploded too. First message from a classmate: “Sophia, are you crazy?! Do you know what Ava’s like when you provoke her?” Second, third messages from strangers, all “666” and spectator emojis. And one more. From Ava. Two words— “Delete it.” I stared at those two words. **Didn’t you say in my past life that the innocent need no defense? Panicking now?** I didn’t reply. I shoved my phone under my pillow. Closed my eyes. Tomorrow I’d return to school. The real show was just beginning. **Chapter Two** Ava’s messages kept coming. “Sophia, are you insane?” “Where did you get that photo?” “I’m warning you, delete it right now, or don’t blame me for what happens.” I didn’t reply. The forum had already gone wild. Ava’s fans and bystanders were fighting like mad. “Ava was at the OB-GYN? What’s going on?” “Reminder: OB-GYN doesn’t just treat pregnancy, they treat other gynecological issues too. Ava might have just been getting a regular checkup.” “Then Sophia might have been getting a regular checkup too! Why didn’t Ava say that about her?” “Shot herself in the foot lol.” “Don’t pick sides yet, wait for the school belle’s response.” Ava’s fourth message came through. Her tone had changed. “Sophie, is there some misunderstanding between us? That post was really just a joke. I’ll delete it tomorrow. Can you delete the photo too? Let’s both stop this, okay?” Sophie. She called me Sophie. She’d called me that in my past life too. On the third day after the whole school mocked me, she “ran into” me in the cafeteria, smiled and put her arm around my shoulder: “Sophie, don’t take it to heart. Everyone’s just joking.” Then she turned around and sent a voice message in her group chat: “This is too funny, she actually believed it.” I typed. “Ava, I’m not going to argue with you on the forum. Just answer me one thing.” “That day at the OB-GYN, were you seeing the doctor for your aunt or your uncle?” Send. The “typing” indicator in the chat box flashed once, then disappeared. One minute. Three minutes. Five minutes. I stared at that silent conversation. In my past life, after Ava’s situation was completely exposed—which happened after I died—many things came to light. I didn’t know what happened to her after. But I knew why she went to the OB-GYN. I knew who that “uncle” was who picked her up every Saturday. I knew what she feared most. At the six-minute mark, Ava’s messages exploded. “What do you mean?!” “Are you stalking me??” “Sophia, are you sick? Do you even know what you’re saying!” “My aunt is in that hospital! What’s wrong with visiting her??” “If you dare spread lies I’ll make sure you can’t stay at this school!!!” Five messages in less than a minute. Every word dripped with cracks. I replied with one word. “Oh.” Then closed the chat. Twenty minutes later, Ava’s original post on the forum was edited. A new paragraph appeared— “Let me clarify for everyone! That day I was visiting my aunt who was hospitalized~ I happened to pass by the OB-GYN corridor and saw a certain classmate. I just thought it was a coincidence so I mentioned it casually, no malicious intent! As for the photo that certain classmate posted—I was at the registration window helping my aunt register~ Hope everyone views this rationally and doesn’t over-interpret♡” Seconds later, supporting comments popped up in perfect formation. Uniform rhythm, similar wording, obviously pre-arranged. “Sis said she was visiting her aunt, stop stirring things up!” “Sophia’s photo only shows Ava standing at the window, doesn’t show what she was registering for. Taking things out of context.” “The bookworm got called out so she’s viciously biting back, classic.” Public opinion began to sway. Some people swung back to Ava’s side. Others were still watching. But it was so much better than my past life. In my past life at this point, the comments were completely one-sided. Because I’d done nothing. I’d only hidden under my covers refreshing the page over and over, watching those comments drown me alive. This life, at least half the people were asking—”So why exactly was Ava at the registration window?” That was enough. The first cut didn’t need to go too deep. Making her panic was enough. I rolled over and put my phone on silent. **You think you can get away with making up “visiting my aunt”? Ava, your aunt wasn’t at that hospital that day. I checked in my past life. This life, I’ll make sure everyone can check too.** Tomorrow back to school. The real show hadn’t even started yet. **Chapter Three** When I walked into the school building, people in the hallway parted to make way. Not out of respect. Out of spectacle. Whispered buzzing, elbows nudging elbows, some people holding up phones to film me. A laugh came from behind: “That’s her.” I pushed open the back door to Class 6. The buzzing chatter in the classroom cut off. Forty pairs of eyes turned toward me in unison. Too uniform to be natural. A few boys whistled. “Yo, the bookworm’s back—” “All recovered now?” I didn’t look at them. Because I saw my desk. Two words spray-painted on the surface. Red paint. Large. “SLUT.” The paint hadn’t fully dried. The edges bled into rough tendrils. The pungent chemical smell rushed in, stinging my eyes until they watered. My chair lay overturned on the floor. Books from my desk drawer scattered everywhere, textbook pages torn to shreds. The classroom went silent for a second, then erupted in laughter. Someone applauded. Someone filmed with their phone. I stood there, hands at my sides. The incision in my lower abdomen started aching from walking too much. I scanned the classroom. In the back row by the window, Rachel sat with her head down playing on her phone, fingers tucked in her sleeves. But I saw a bit of red at the edge of her sleeve. Third row, class president Ethan sat ramrod straight. His gaze met mine for a moment. Then he looked away. Lowered his head, staring at the open textbook in front of him. In my past life, I’d gone crying to him. He’d said: “Sophia, stop making trouble. The more you make a fuss, the worse it gets for you.” Then closed his pen cap and turned his head toward the window. I remembered that sentence for a whole lifetime. That lifetime was very short. **You saw. You always saw.** **But you chose to pretend you didn’t.** The laughter continued. Someone shouted: “Sophia, that paint cost a lot of money. Consider it a welcome gift.” I didn’t wipe the desk. Didn’t cry. Didn’t explain. I pulled out my phone from my pocket. Opened the camera, aimed it at my desk, pressed the shutter three times. Different angles, capturing the red words, the overturned chair, the shredded textbooks. Then switched to my contacts. The classroom laughter gradually faded. Because they saw the three digits on my phone screen. 9-1-

I pressed the call button and raised the phone to my ear. The entire classroom went dead silent. “Hello, High-Tech District Experimental High School, Grade 11 Class 6. My name is Sophia. My desk has been spray-painted with offensive language and my personal property has been deliberately destroyed. I have photos of the scene. Please dispatch officers.” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word drove into the silence. Rachel’s phone dropped to the floor in the back row. No one picked it up. Thirty seconds later, the classroom door flew open. Homeroom teacher Mr. Walker rushed in, his expression caught between panic and anger. “Sophia! What are you doing?” He grabbed my wrist holding the phone: “Hang up! Do you know what you’re doing!” I looked up at him. “Mr. Walker, please let go. I’m filing a police report. Interfering with a police call is illegal.” His fingers froze. The entire classroom—forty students plus students from the next class peeking in the doorway—everyone watched as— The homeroom teacher gripped the wrist of the most invisible scholarship student in class, while the scholarship student calmly continued her police report. He let go. Stepped back. The voice on the phone said something. I said: “Okay. I’ll wait in the classroom.” Hung up. Put the phone back in my pocket. Bent down to pick up my chair and sat down beside the spray-painted desk. Took out my notebook, turned to the first page, and started copying the formula on the blackboard. No one around me spoke. No one laughed anymore. Mr. Walker stood by the podium, his lips moving several times, but in the end said nothing and left. His phone call echoed from the hallway, voice kept low, but I caught one word—”dispatch.” I continued copying formulas. The scratching of pen on paper was the only sound in the entire classroom. **Ava, in my past life you killed with words. This life I’ll use the law. Let’s see who falls first.** **Chapter Four** The police arrived quickly. When two uniformed officers walked into the classroom, the substitute math teacher stopped mid-chalk stroke. The whole class’s attention shifted from the blackboard to the door, then to me. I stood up, took my phone and backpack, and followed them out. Many people in the hallway craned their necks to look. Passing the neighboring class’s door, a girl held up her phone filming me. Taking the statement took forty minutes. In the small room in the dean’s office, I showed the police the photos on my phone and explained everything step by step. The post. The photo from behind. The forum attacks. The spray-painted desk. The older officer finished recording and looked up: “Do you have any suspects?” “Rachel, my classmate. She has red paint residue under her fingernails.” After finishing the statement, I came out to an empty hallway. Lunch break. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes for a moment. The incision in my lower abdomen throbbed dully. After being stuck to my clothes all day it was getting itchy. Time to change the gauze. No time for that. I rummaged through my backpack for painkillers and dry-swallowed one. The pill stuck in my throat, bitter and astringent. No classes in the afternoon. I sat in the library until five. Quiet. No one came looking for me. Not even Mr. Walker showed up. But the calm shattered at nine that evening. I’d just finished changing my gauze in my rental when my phone vibrated. Not the class group chat—I’d been kicked out long ago. The grade-level group, the kind where people rarely spoke. Today it exploded. Someone threw a video into it. The thumbnail was blurry, but you could make out a dim room, a girl and a man. The title: four words: “Sophia’s hookup.” My hand stopped. Then I clicked in. The face in the video was mine. Features, contours, hair length—all matched. But it wasn’t me. AI face-swap. In my past life, this video spread throughout the entire school two weeks before I died. After watching it, I locked myself in my rental for three days without eating or drinking. Three days later, I opened that bottle of sleeping pills. Now, it was back. Stomach acid surged up violently, my throat turning sour. My fingers gripped the phone’s edge, nails digging into the plastic case. Tinnitus buzzed, my heartbeat pounding against my temples. I closed my eyes. Counted to five. Opened them. The grade group had exploded. “Holy shit is this real??” “That face is so clear…” “Photoshopped right? Something feels off.” “What’s off? The face is right there!” “Isn’t she supposed to be a bookworm? Why’s she always doing this stuff…” Messages scrolled too fast. Before I could screenshot, the group admin deleted the video. But it was too late. It had already been saved, forwarded, sent to countless other groups. **In my past life, this video was the final straw that broke me.** **This life—it’s the first steel beam that will break Ava.** I swallowed my emotions. Didn’t cry. Didn’t type a defense. Opened the screen recording tool, scrolled up through the grade group chat history, and screenshot every forwarding, comment, and distribution path one by one. Captured thirty-seven images. Then opened the dialer. 911. Second time. “Hello, my name is Sophia, Grade 11 Class 6 student at High-Tech District Experimental High School. Someone has created an AI deepfake pornographic video using my facial features and is distributing it widely in the grade group and multiple social groups. I am a minor. I’m requesting to file a case.” The other end went silent for two seconds. “You’re certain it’s AI-generated?” “Certain. The body in the video is not me. I’m requesting a technical forensic analysis.” “Alright, we’ll forward this to the cybersecurity department. Preserve all relevant screenshots and links.” Hung up. My phone lit up again. Message from Ava. “Sophia, things have escalated to this point. You delete the photo from the forum, and I’ll have people take down the video. We both save face.” Save face. You destroyed my reputation with lies, nailed me to a pillar of shame with an AI face-swap. Now you want to talk about saving face. I replied with one line. “The police will find out who made the video. Ava, pray they don’t trace it back to you.” No reply from her. I closed my phone and pulled up the covers. The incision jumped beneath my waistband. I put a pillow under my lower abdomen and curled up. The bitter taste of that half-bottle of sleeping pills rose again. It still clung to the back of my throat, impossible to swallow no matter how I tried. Some things you can’t forget even after dying once. But that’s okay. This life, I won’t take them. **Chapter Five** The next day at 6:40 AM. My mom called. I looked at the word “Mom” on my screen. My heart clenched. The ringtone went four times before I answered. “Sophie honey, does your surgical incision still hurt?” Her voice was a bit hoarse, but she was trying to sound cheerful. “Not anymore, it’s almost healed.” “Is the school food good? Does the cafeteria have pork ribs?” “Yes.” “Sophie…” She stopped. A long breath on the other end. Inhale, hold it, then slowly exhale. “Sophie, is someone at school bullying you?” My fingers tightened. “Mom, no.” “Some people in town… showed me some things on their phones.” She paused, her voice starting to shake. “Sophie, none of that’s true, right? Mom knows it’s not true. Mom believes you.” I bit my lower lip. There was still a cut inside my lip from dry-swallowing painkillers yesterday. When I bit down, the metallic taste of blood spread along my tongue. Past life. In my past life she’d made this same call. I’d cried and said “Mom, I didn’t do those things.” She’d said “Mom knows. Mom will come to school tomorrow.” The next day she came. Wearing her most presentable piece—an old gray jacket, carrying a bag of farm eggs, standing at the homeroom teacher’s office door, bent over with a forced smile: “Teacher, please help. My Sophie isn’t that kind of child.” Mr. Walker didn’t even look up. “Parent, your daughter has caused quite a stir at school. I suggest she do some self-reflection. The innocent need no defense—if she hasn’t done anything, what’s there to fear?” My mom stood in the doorway holding the eggs, not knowing what to do with her hands. When she left, her knee hit the threshold. No one helped her up. Seven months later, she joined me at the old oak tree. “Mom, listen to me.” I kept my voice very steady, saying each word carefully. “Those things are all fake. Someone is trying to hurt me. But I’m handling it. I filed a police report. You don’t need to come to school.” “But—” “Mom, don’t come.” Silence on the other end. Then I heard an extremely soft sob. She was desperately holding it in. “Okay.” “Sophie, you… you have to be okay.” “Yeah. I’ll be okay. I’ll come home to see you this weekend.” Hung up. I crouched in the corner of the hallway, back against the cold wall. Hands covering my face. Didn’t cry. My eyes were dry and stinging. The incision twinged once. I stood up. **This life you don’t have to come. Don’t have to beg anyone with a bag of eggs. Don’t have to kneel. Don’t have to die.** At noon, the forum exploded again. Ava posted an audio recording. Post title: “Sophia admitted it herself—everyone listen for yourselves.” Thirty-six second audio clip. A female voice inside—my voice—crying and saying: “I know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have falsely accused Ava. I made it all up, the medical records are fake. I was just jealous of her…” I listened to it. Replayed it twice. The tone was very close. The intonation mimicked my speech patterns. But there was one problem—the breath intervals in the four words “I made it all up” were too uniform. Normal people don’t speak like that. AI-synthesized audio has mechanical breathing rhythms. In my past life, I didn’t know these things. This life, on the first day after my rebirth, I’d researched everything online about AI voice detection. The comments went crazy. “Confirmed! She admitted it herself!” “LMAO where’s her face? Fake-righteous bookworm.” “Ava is finally cleared!” “So what was that police report earlier about? What performance was that?” I took screenshots and saved the original audio file link. Then made my third police call. “Hello, this is Sophia from the previous report. Someone has published an AI-forged audio recording using my voice pattern and is spreading it on the forum. I’ve saved the original link and screenshots. Please submit it for technical forensic analysis as well.” Three police calls. Within three days. Hung up. Walked into the dean’s office. Mr. Walker was inside. When he saw me, irritation flashed across his face. “Sophia, what now.” “Mr. Walker, Ava has published a forged AI voice recording impersonating me. I’ve filed a police report. This will have legal consequences.” “Legal consequences?” He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Sophia, can you just settle down? The way you’re making a fuss affects your own future. Do you still want that recommendation spot?” I looked at him. Behind his lenses, his eyes shifted away. “Mr. Walker. I’m sitting in front of you right now with three police report receipts in hand.” My voice wasn’t loud. “I’m the victim. You’re asking the victim to shut up.” His fingers froze on the temple of his glasses. “I’ll remember your exact words. If the follow-up investigation involves the school’s handling responsibility, the Board of Education will see them.” I stood up and walked out. Didn’t look back. The hallway was empty. Lunch break sunlight poured through the windows, bleaching the floor tiles white. I leaned against the railing and took three deep breaths. My hands were shaking. Not from fear. From anger. In my past life, I knelt and begged him for help. He gave me four words. This life I spoke to him standing up, and his first reaction was still to tell me to shut up. That’s fine. If you won’t help, I don’t need your help. But don’t block my way.

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Grandma was on her deathbed, barely able to speak, but she managed to whisper that her only wish was to see me get married. I sobbed uncontrollably, and my entire family’s eyes turned to Fudge standing behind me. Fudge sighed, gently wiped away my tears, and led me out to the hallway. But the moment the door closed behind us, his expression turned cold. “Yolanda, we’ve been together seven years. You know I hate being forced into things more than anything.” “Relationships should develop naturally. They shouldn’t be swayed by anyone else’s opinions.” His hand brushed through my hair, still somewhat soothing. “There’s no rush to get married. Let’s wait until my company goes public and things stabilize, okay?” “I have a meeting tonight. Just handle your family for now. I’ll bring you a gift when I get back.” Before I could respond, he turned and left, walking side by side with his female secretary. The moment their figures disappeared behind the elevator doors, I saw the secretary rise on her tiptoes and naturally adjust his tie. And he didn’t push her away. I dried my tears and returned to the hospital room, smiling as I took Grandma’s hand. “Grandma, don’t worry. I’m getting married in three days.” “Before I walk down the aisle, I’ll be waiting for you to brush my hair yourself.”

Hearing me say this, everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief. Grandma’s eyes even reddened as she said “good” several times. After driving my parents home, Mom called me into the study alone. “Yolanda, there’s something I’ve been holding back for a long time, but I need to tell you.” She hesitated, looking at me with eyes full of reluctance. “Last month on your birthday, Fudge came to give you a gift but said he was busy and left after barely five minutes.” “But half an hour later, my friend saw him at a pet hospital in the south part of town, accompanying a woman in loungewear while her dog was being treated. It seemed to be that Secretary Shen of his…” Mom pushed a photo toward me. In the photo, Sharon was holding a bandaged puppy in her arms, looking up with a smile and saying something. Beside her, Fudge had his head lowered, listening intently. The indulgence and affection in his eyes were almost overflowing. Even without any intimate gestures, the two of them seemed connected by invisible threads, forming a clear boundary between themselves and everyone around them. Looking at Fudge like this, I felt disoriented for a moment. Once upon a time, he used to look at me with that same focused, passionate gaze every day, his emotions constantly swayed by my joys and sorrows. Not like today, when my tears hadn’t even dried before he demanded in a stern voice that I be considerate and mature, not to cause him more trouble. “Yolanda, you and Fudge have been together all these years. If he wanted to propose, he’s had plenty of opportunities.” “The way he’s being forced into this today—Mom’s just afraid you’ll suffer later. Maybe you should…” Before Mom could finish, I cut her off with a calm voice. “Mom, I am getting married. But who says I’m marrying Fudge?” By the time I got back from my parents’ house, it was late at night. I pushed open the door to find Fudge surprisingly still awake, sitting on the sofa in loungewear, watching the US stock market. Seeing me return, he closed his laptop, removed his glasses, and gave me a searching look. “Why so late today?” I forced a smile. I originally wanted to say that he had plenty of nights when he came home even later than this, but when the words reached my lips, I felt it was pointless. I gave a perfunctory response. “Nothing much. Just spent some extra time talking with Mom.” Fudge nodded, picked up a dazzling necklace from the jewelry box on the table, stood up, and walked toward me. “Yolanda, thank you for helping me deal with the marriage pressure.” “You know, marrying you has always been my plan for the future. It’s just that the timing isn’t right yet. I only want to give you the most grand wedding…” As he spoke, he tried to pull me into his embrace as usual and put the necklace on me. Ever since we started dating, whenever Fudge did something that hurt me, he would give me gifts to compensate. But in the past, no matter how expensive the gift was for him at the time, he would always feel guilty, carefully holding his sincere heart while apologizing, hoping to make me happy again. Not like now, with his face completely calm, his eyes containing nothing but the composure of someone in complete control, devoid of any tenderness. This version of him already felt sufficiently unfamiliar to me. I tilted my head away, dodging his hand and avoiding his embrace. “Fudge, there’s no need for this anymore.” “Let’s end this here.”

Fudge’s expression darkened abruptly. “Yolanda, you were never someone who acted on impulse like this.” “Just because I didn’t agree to get married right now? Did you coordinate this with your family on purpose, using this to force my hand?” I looked up, meeting the anger in his eyes with complete calm. “I’m not forcing you, Fudge. I’m the one who doesn’t want to be with you anymore.” His expression grew even darker. “We’ve been together seven years. No one knows your feelings for me better than I do.” “Don’t play hard-to-get with me. I’m not falling for that trick.” He was convinced I was throwing a tantrum, convinced I was using Grandma’s situation to pressure him into compromising, to force him to propose immediately. Looking at him, I suddenly found it all laughable. Laughable that I’d persisted all these years. Laughable that it took me until now to see clearly what a cold, selfish person he was. “I’m not playing hard-to-get, Fudge. You’re too self-centered.” “You only ever think about yourself, about your company, about your reputation.” “But you’ve never considered me or my family’s wishes.” As if I’d struck a nerve, his expression grew even uglier, and his voice rose considerably. “I work myself to the bone trying to get my company to go public—isn’t that all for giving you a better life in the future?” “I’m postponing the wedding to give you a grand ceremony, aren’t I?” “Yolanda, why can’t you just be more understanding and stop trying to force me to do things I don’t want to do?” Understanding? My nose stung with tears. Haven’t I been understanding enough? Shortly after we got together, because he repeatedly told me I was too sharp-edged, I learned to restrain myself, to retreat further and further. All these years, even though I desperately wanted to get married, I kept considering his various excuses and repeatedly convinced myself and my family to postpone. Even now, because I loved him, I tolerated his intimacy with Sharon over and over, hypnotizing myself into believing he still loved me. This version of myself disgusted even me, let alone anyone else. “Fudge, whether you believe it or not, I’ve had enough.” “I don’t want to wait for you anymore. I don’t want to revolve around your schedule anymore. And I definitely don’t want to watch you and Sharon carry on ambiguously.” At the mention of Sharon, something flickered in his eyes before being covered by anger again. “I’ve told you countless times, she and I are just colleagues. Stop being unreasonable.” “The wedding is non-negotiable. We have to wait until my company goes public and stabilizes.” “No matter how much you make a scene, it won’t change anything!” With that, he threw the necklace onto the sofa, turned around, and left. The door slammed shut with a bang. The framed photo hanging in the entryway fell and shattered on impact. This apartment was one we bought together in our third year. I handled all the decorating myself. Every corner held my expectations from back then. But now, all that remained was overwhelming disappointment. The warmth from those early days was completely gone. I opened the closet, took out my clothes, folded them one by one, and placed them in the suitcase I’d prepared in advance. From the study, I only took necessary documents. I left everything else untouched. After packing everything, I contacted a courier service and had my suitcase sent to the apartment I’d rented in advance. Once I’d finished all this, I sat on the sofa in a daze. My phone suddenly vibrated twice. A notification that Sharon, whom I’d marked as a special contact, had posted a new update. “Period cramps are killing me, but someone made me brown sugar water. I’m so blessed.” The accompanying photo was taken in a kitchen. A broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted man in a crisp suit was wearing a teddy bear apron, standing with his back to the camera in front of the stove. Even without seeing his face, you could tell from his body language how relaxed and at ease Fudge was in this moment—completely different from the coldness he showed me. In the past, facing Sharon’s overt and covert provocations, I would always lose control and demand an explanation from Fudge. Now, I simply raised my hand, calmly liked the post, then blocked both Fudge and Sharon.

Soon after, there was a knock at the door, and I received an email. Opening it, I found a wedding invitation with a deep red background and gold embossed patterns. At the same time, my phone showed a message from Lucas Ashford. He was an investor I’d met through an elder’s introduction. He was steady and reliable in his dealings. Three days ago, when I set the wedding date, I reached an agreement with him to get married that same evening. “Yolanda, did you receive the invitation? This is the design you selected. Does the sample meet your expectations?” I was slightly taken aback, not expecting him to be so efficient and thorough. This sense of reliability was something I had never received from Fudge. I came back to my senses and sent Lucas a positive confirmation. Looking down again at the date on the invitation, there were still three days. That was enough time. The next morning, I went to the company. I wanted to wrap up my project. As soon as I walked into the office area, scattered discussions drifted from nearby. “Did you see Secretary Shen’s post yesterday? Mr. Harrington personally made her brown sugar water.” “The whole company’s been talking about it, and Mr. Harrington hasn’t clarified anything. Obviously, he’s acknowledging it.” “I think Secretary Shen and Mr. Harrington make a great couple. They look perfect together.” I paused slightly. Back when Fudge said office romances weren’t appropriate, we concealed our relationship. Now he didn’t care anymore? Several colleagues saw me, and the discussions stopped abruptly. Their expressions turned panicked and awkward. Before Sharon appeared, when they knew the company was co-founded by Fudge and me after college graduation, they used to ship us together. I understood and said reassuringly: “Don’t be nervous. They really are well-matched.” Just as I finished speaking, a furious voice came from behind me. “Yolanda!” Fudge approached with an icy aura, striding up to me with a dark expression, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding colleagues. Everyone immediately lowered their heads, not daring to make another sound. “Come with me.” He turned and walked into the office first. I followed him in. After closing the door, Fudge turned around and looked at me silently for a moment. “What did you mean by liking Sharon’s post yesterday? And what did you mean by blocking me?” I leaned against the door, my expression indifferent. “The like was genuine well-wishes. I blocked you because we’ve already broken up. There’s no need to keep private contact information.” Fudge’s anger intensified. “Well-wishes? Do you know your like made Sharon feel guilty all night? She kept apologizing to me, saying she caused you to misunderstand.” I found it absurd and couldn’t help laughing. “Fudge, if she really felt guilty, she should apologize to me.” “But you and I are already over. Whatever happens between you and Sharon has nothing to do with me.” “Whether she feels guilty or not isn’t something I need to consider.” Fudge stared at me, practically grinding his teeth. “Fine. Yolanda, you’ve got guts. I’d like to see how long you can keep this up.” With that, he raised his hand and told me to get out. Less than ten minutes after returning to my workstation, the company’s internal group chat posted the latest personnel change announcement. My position as project director had been revoked. Sharon was directly taking over the core project I’d worked on for half a year that was about to launch. And I had been transferred to the logistics department, responsible for trivial administrative tasks. Looking at the words on screen, my heart still uncontrollably ached for a moment. Actually, I’d already planned to resign. I just wanted to see my final project through before leaving, since it carried all the heart and soul of my career so far. I thought that even if our relationship had fallen apart, the bond from building the company together would remain. But now it seemed that was just my wishful thinking. Still, this was fine. At least it would allow me to cut ties sooner. I opened my computer and had just finished writing my resignation letter when I received a message from Lucas’s assistant. “Miss Yolanda, Mr. Ashford says the wedding dress has been custom-made to your measurements. You can go to the shop after work to try it on. Contact me anytime if there are any issues.” After work, I left the company and found the wedding dress shop according to the address. A clerk greeted me warmly: “Are you Miss Yolanda? Mr. Ashford has already informed us. Your wedding dress is in the fitting room.” The satin material was simple and clean, making my figure look elegant and poised. Standing before the full-length mirror, looking at myself in the wedding dress, my thoughts churned uncontrollably. Fudge once said that when the company stabilized, he would order the most premium wedding dress in the city and give me a wedding everyone would envy. I believed him. So I waited year after year, from hopeful anticipation to complete disillusionment. My nose suddenly stung, and tears still fell. I wasn’t sad for Fudge. I was sad for the version of myself who foolishly gave seven years of genuine devotion. Just then, the respectful voice of a clerk came from outside the shop door. “Mr. Harrington, you’re here.”

My entire body stiffened. I slowly turned around. Fudge stood at the shop entrance, his gaze falling on me, his face full of shock. He quickly noticed my reddened eyes. Something shifted in his expression, producing a hint of softness as he walked up to me. “The wedding dress suits you very well. If you like it, I’ll buy it for you.” He paused, then continued, “I have been neglecting you lately, but it’s also because you’ve been too disobedient, always forcing me to do things I don’t want to do. Be good and listen to me. Once the company goes public and stabilizes, I’ll definitely marry you.” He seemed to think I came here alone to try on wedding dresses because I wanted to marry him. I was about to explain when Sharon’s soft, delicate voice came from behind me. “Fudge, I’ve chosen my wedding dress. Have you picked out your suit?” Sharon, wearing a white dress, walked over to Fudge and intimately hooked her arm through his. Fudge’s body instantly tensed. He hastily tried to push her away, but afraid of being too obvious, he could only offer a flustered explanation. “Yolanda, don’t misunderstand. Sharon just wanted to experience what it’s like to wear a wedding dress, but she doesn’t have any other male friends.” “You know how girls are—they see videos and want to try the trend.” In the past, I begged and pleaded for him to accompany me to try on a wedding dress just once, but he said I was brainwashed by the internet, that a wedding dress was just a piece of clothing and there was no need to make a big deal of it. But now, he was willing to take time out to help Sharon choose a wedding dress. I didn’t want to say anything more to him. I turned to leave. But Sharon quickly stepped forward and grabbed my wrist. “Miss, Mr. Harrington is telling the truth. If you’re still angry, just hit me!” Before I could react, her body swayed and she fell toward the ground, letting out a soft cry. “Ah!” She weakly pressed her ankle, her face pale, looking extremely pained. “Fudge, I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts so much.” Seeing this, Fudge immediately pushed me aside and rushed to support Sharon, his eyes full of fury as he looked at me. “Yolanda, you’ve gone too far!” Without any hesitation, he scooped Sharon up and headed outside. Watching his hurried departing figure, I only felt it was laughable. This wasn’t the first time Sharon had used such tactics to frame me. In the past, I thought Fudge was being deceived. Now I finally understood—he wasn’t blind in the eyes, he was blind in the heart. His heart never had room for me, which is why he sided with Sharon time and time again without asking for the truth. I returned to my temporary apartment. My phone kept buzzing with messages, all from Fudge’s work number. “Yolanda, come to the hospital immediately and apologize to Sharon, or I’ll postpone our wedding indefinitely.” “Even if your grandma really is dying this time, I won’t soften!” Message after message, every word dripping with selfishness and tyranny. He even cursed my grandmother. I was so angry I felt nauseous. I directly deleted and blocked his work number too. After doing all this, I opened the company’s HR system and formally submitted my resignation letter. The moment the email sent successfully, all the darkness in my heart completely dissipated. Meanwhile, Fudge had just finished sending his text messages with a dark expression. Sharon spoke softly. “Fudge, is Yolanda really angry at me? It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened.” “It’s not your fault. Yolanda is being unreasonable. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely give you an explanation!” Fudge consoled her, his tone full of conviction. In the past, whenever he threatened to postpone the wedding, Yolanda would take the initiative to back down. He was confident this time would be the same. But early the next morning, he received a call from HR. “Mr. Harrington, Miss Yolanda has submitted a formal resignation letter. She’s very determined. We can’t talk her out of it.” Hearing this, Fudge immediately flew into a rage and drove to our apartment. But when he opened the door, everything belonging to me had already disappeared. He took out his phone to message me through his work number, only to find he’d been blocked there too. An inexplicable panic rose in Fudge’s heart. And all his unease reached its peak when he saw the bright red invitation on the table. In the bride’s position was my name. But in the groom’s position was not his name. In an instant, Fudge’s face turned as white as paper. The invitation slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.

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To catch the last design project before Christmas, I’d been on business trips for three straight days. On the high-speed train back, I absentmindedly scrolled into a livestream titled “Daily Life of a Kept College Girl.” “My sugar daddy’s wife is on a business trip, so to save money on hotels, he let me stay at his place. Today’s the last day!” On screen, the girl wore a silk nightgown, pouting as she complained. A comment asked: “If he’s this cheap, why are you even with him?” She smiled smugly. “My sugar daddy’s a freeloader himself, but his wife is a famous designer!” “He supports me entirely with his wife’s money.” The camera panned, revealing a familiar curved balcony, custom bookshelves, a planet lamp… Frame by frame, it was all the home I’d designed myself. She winked playfully at the camera: “My sugar daddy says after New Year’s, he’ll use his wife’s year-end bonus to pay for my down payment.” “And he’ll even have his wife personally design my wedding suite. Just thinking about it is so thrilling.” The moment the livestream ended, a message from my husband Lucas popped up: “Honey, I transferred twenty thousand from your card. Needed it urgently.” 0

The scenery outside the train window blurred into a gray-white haze. I stared at my phone screen, my fingertips ice-cold. Lucas’s message still glowed there. Seeing I hadn’t responded for ages, he sent another. “Honey, are you still busy? Why aren’t you replying?” I took a deep breath and tapped on the screen: “Bad signal on the train. I’ll be home in two hours.” Lucas replied almost instantly. “Why are you coming back early? I’ll wait for you at home. Take your time on the way back.” I stared at those words, suddenly feeling disoriented. I ignored him and switched back to the short video app, finding the profile of that livestreamer. On her profile page, she’d posted a new video just one minute ago. I clicked on it. On screen was the same girl in the silk robe. She blinked at the camera, her voice syrupy sweet. “Oh no! My sugar daddy’s wife is coming home from her trip early. I’ve got to go!” She waved a sparkly earring at the camera, her lips curled in a smug smile. “This? I’m going to hide it under the pillow as a little gift for his wife. Do you think she’ll find it?” At the end of the video, she leaned close to the camera and lowered her voice: “Want to keep watching me and my sugar daddy’s daily life? Join the fan group and I’ll share more~” My finger moved faster than my brain—I clicked to request entry to the group. The system approved me instantly. The group announcement hung there, glaring: “Welcome to Jane’s Sweet Little Nest~ My sugar daddy totally spoils me!” I exited the app and closed my eyes. Lucas and I had been married for five years. We’d been together since college. When he was pursuing me, he ate instant noodles for a month just to save up money to buy me a necklace. After we married, he started a business and lost everything, even racking up a mountain of debt. My career had just started then, but I took on the burden of our household without a second thought. He cried and said, “Honey, when I turn things around, I’ll make sure you have a good life.” I held him tight. “Okay. I’ll wait for that day.” I drew designs until dawn every day, thinking that if I took on more projects, we could pay off his debts sooner. When I opened my eyes again, the view outside the window showed the familiar lights of my city. We’d arrived. I dragged my suitcase, practically rushing home. I pushed open the door. Lucas emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron, his face full of smiles. “You’re back? Are you tired? I made you noodles.” I said nothing. I changed my shoes and headed straight to the bedroom. Walking to the bed, I reached under the pillow. Nothing. “What’s wrong? Looking for something?” Lucas’s voice came from the doorway. I turned around, unable to force any expression onto my face. “Nothing. Just a bit tired.” He walked closer, trying to take my suitcase. Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his expression clearly stiffening for a moment. Then he turned and headed to the bathroom. “Let me take this call.” The door was ajar. I stood where I was, hearing a girl’s soft voice drift through the gap into my ears. “When are you coming over… I miss you…” It sounded like the voice from the livestream. My nails dug into my palms. A few minutes later, he rushed out to grab his coat. “My friend… suddenly got sick. I’m going to check on him.” “Also, I’m a bit short on cash. Honey, can you transfer me some more?” I grabbed his hand. “Which friend? Is it serious? Let me come with you.” 0

“Really, you don’t need to. You just got back from a trip—rest up.” Lucas pressed down on my hand reaching for my coat, his tone urgent. I looked up and saw several red marks on his neck. “What happened to your neck?” I stared at him. He frantically covered them with his hand, his eyes darting away. “Ah… probably mosquito bites. They’re really itchy.” With that, he rushed out the door, even forgetting to take his scarf. Maybe I was too exhausted. I’d been working nonstop on projects lately, and then this happened. I lay on the bed, my head buzzing. Before I knew it, I’d fallen asleep. When I opened my eyes again, the room was pitch black. I fumbled for my phone—it was midnight. The screen was still on the fan group interface for that girl named Jane. The latest messages were all from her, just posted: [Tonight my sugar daddy is still with me~ I just acted cute and he came running] Below was a photo. The lighting was ambiguous. A girl leaned against a man’s shoulder. The man’s face was covered with a sticker, but that familiar black mole on the side of his neck—I recognized it instantly. It was Lucas. The gray hoodie he wore was the birthday gift I’d given him last year. And Jane was wearing his shirt, loose and oversized. [My sugar daddy says I can’t leave hickeys anymore! Because his wife asked him about them!] [As compensation… he gave me his wife’s Bulgari necklace~] She posted another picture. My breath caught. That was part of my dowry from my mother, a limited edition piece she’d brought back from Italy. It went missing last year. Lucas had even helped me search for it for ages, saying we must have accidentally thrown it out while cleaning. So it wasn’t thrown out. It was stolen to give away. I tossed my phone aside, wanting to close my eyes and keep sleeping. But every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was that photo. Jane leaning against his shoulder, smiling. Him looking down at her, his gaze painfully tender. That was an expression I hadn’t seen in a long time. Half-asleep, I struggled through until dawn, hearing the sound of keys at the door. Lucas tiptoed in, carrying the cold from outside. He walked to the bedside and tucked the blanket around me. I opened my eyes. He jumped. “Did I wake you?” “Lucas,” I called out to him, my voice hoarse. “This New Year, come back with me to see my parents.” He froze, obvious hesitation flashing across his face. He mumbled an “mm” and looked away. I continued, “Which friend was sick yesterday? I’m free today. Let’s go visit.” His shoulders visibly stiffened, and his speech quickened. “You don’t know them, and… and they were already discharged today. No need to go.” More lies. I watched him nervously swallow, and suddenly felt a wave of nausea. “Honey…” He suddenly moved closer, lifting the blanket and lying down. His arm came around to hold me, his face buried in my neck. “Don’t ask anymore. Just let me hold you for a while.” He carried a faint scent of perfume—sweet, fruity floral notes. I lay stiffly in his embrace, motionless. His hand patted my back gently, just like he used to do when coaxing me to sleep. 0

There was one day left before we’d go back to my parents’ place. At breakfast, I asked Lucas, “Can you come to the mall with me today? Let’s buy some New Year goods for Mom and Dad.” His hand pausing while peeling an egg, he didn’t look at me. “Vivian, I… I found a day-labor job. Today’s my first day. I want to earn money myself to buy gifts for your parents. That shows more sincerity.” As he said this, his gaze drifted toward the window, his ears slightly red. But I still nodded, even managing a smile. “That’s great. It’s the thought that counts.” He looked relieved, hurriedly finished eating, grabbed his coat, and headed out. The moment the door closed, the smile collapsed from my face. My phone vibrated. It was Jane’s fan group. She’d posted a voice message: [Sisters, my sugar daddy has to go back to his hometown with his wife for Christmas~ Today he’s treating me to an early “New Year’s dinner” to console my wounded little heart~] Below was a restaurant location. I stared at that address, then suddenly grabbed my car keys and followed. The restaurant’s lighting was dim and intimate, the air filled with expensive perfume and the scent of fresh bread. I sat in the most secluded booth with an untouched glass of water in front of me. Then I saw them walk in. Lucas wore the cashmere coat I’d bought him just last month, with Jane on his arm. The server led them to the best window seat. “Lucas, isn’t this place really expensive?” Jane rested her chin on her hand, her eyes bright as she looked at him. “For you, it’s worth it.” Lucas pushed the menu toward her. “See what you want to eat. Today, you’re the priority.” Jane’s slender fingers pointed at items on the menu as she leaned softly toward Lucas. Lucas naturally put his arm around her shoulder, his chin nearly touching the top of her head. “I can’t spend New Year with you, so today I’ll make it all up to you.” “Hmph, you just know how to sweet-talk me. When are you going to leave her?” Jane pouted, her tone coquettish. Lucas lowered his head, leaning close to her ear. “Just wait a bit longer. That old hag—if it weren’t for her money… I’d have stopped bothering with her ages ago.” Jane immediately beamed, quickly kissing his cheek. “What about my New Year gift you promised me?” “Don’t worry. I already paid the twenty thousand down payment on the house.” Lucas tapped her nose, his eyes full of affection. They said much more after that. Every sentence was like a poisoned needle piercing my ears. I gripped my water glass tightly, nails digging into my palm, yet I felt no pain. My stomach churned violently. The few bites of bread I’d forced down earlier felt like stones lodged inside. They ate for a long time, their behavior growing increasingly intimate. When they finally got up to leave, Lucas actually bent down and kissed Jane’s forehead—so tenderly. After they left, I immediately drove home. I burst through the door, not even bothering to change my shoes, and rushed straight to the bathroom. Kneeling by the toilet, I vomited up all the nausea I’d held back at the restaurant. Why? When your business failed and you were drowning in debt, I stayed up late with you figuring out solutions, desperately taking on projects to pay back the money. Have you forgotten those days? Now that life has finally stabilized and the debt is almost paid off… The sound of keys turning. Lucas was home. Hearing the commotion, he ran to the bathroom door and saw my state. He froze for a moment. Then his face filled with familiar concern. “Vivian? Why are you throwing up? Did you eat something bad?” He crouched down, his warm palm patting my back with gentle motions, his tone anxious. Completely different from the man who’d just been in that restaurant with his arm around another woman, speaking such heartless words. I lifted my head and looked at this face I’d loved for nearly ten years. “Lucas, that twenty thousand—where did you spend it?”

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The moment I was reborn on the beach, my buddy Liam’s urgent phone call came through. “Ethan! Where the hell are you?! The bride has been waiting for you for two hours!” I rubbed my throbbing temples and swiped open my phone calendar with a laugh. “What are you talking about? Today’s the 14th. My wedding is on the 21st. That’s a whole seven days away.” “Seven days my ass!” His voice cracked. “All the guests at the hotel are about to leave! Vanessa has torn off her veil. Get over here now.” I looked up at the public screen by the beach. It clearly displayed June 14, 2026. In my past life, I thought I’d been so busy I’d mixed up the dates. I rushed to the hotel like a madman, only to have a flower pot drop from above and smash through my skull the moment I stepped through the door. I didn’t even get a chance to see the killer’s face. This time, I stared at the messages popping up on my phone — “Today is your wedding” — my fingertips ice-cold. The sea breeze carried a faint fishy smell into my nostrils. I jerked my eyes open, gasping for air, my whole body radiating bone-chilling cold. In my past life, the flower pot had exploded on my head. In an instant, intense pain struck. My whole body went numb. Blood pooled everywhere. In the last second before losing consciousness, I still couldn’t figure out why the wedding had been moved up seven days. I’d spent half a year preparing for this wedding, attending to every detail. I’d even written the date on the invitations myself. Before I could sort out my thoughts, the piercing phone ringtone pulled me back to reality. My lock screen showed the countdown to my wedding with Vanessa: [7 days until the wedding] Liam kept calling. I suppressed my irritation and answered. His anxious voice came through. “Ethan, today’s your wedding. The guests have been waiting for you for two hours. The bride is going crazy. Where did you run off to?” I suppressed my anger and asked in a low voice, “Say that again. What day is the wedding?” “June 21st! Did you forget your own wedding day?” I gripped my phone tightly, my knuckles turning white. “Then check today’s date.” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Ethan, today is June 21st, Saturday. Are you coming or not?” I hung up and pulled up the invitation photo. Black and white, June 21st. That was right. But my phone calendar, the car display, the screen on the street — all showed June 14th. I forced myself to calm down. In my past life, I’d lost my life because I rushed over impulsively. I called my grandfather, George. He had raised me. He’d said he would definitely attend my wedding.

“It’s Ethan! What made you think to call me? Remember to pick me up next Saturday for your wedding.” George put on his reading glasses and squinted at me affectionately. Seeing him so calm and composed, I relaxed a bit and asked casually, “George, what’s today’s date?” George smoothed his graying hair and said with a smile, “Today’s the 14th. Our Ethan’s wedding is on the 21st. What’s wrong? Getting anxious to marry your bride?” He had always doted on me most. He would never lie to me about something as important as my wedding. My tense nerves relaxed slightly. But then I thought — why would Vanessa and Liam put on such an elaborate show to deceive me? I clenched my fist, veins bulging on the back of my hand. Seeing me zone out, George said gently, “Ethan, make sure you rest well these next few days. You need to be the most handsome groom on your wedding day.” I was silent for a moment, then finally just said “Got it” and hung up. On the screen by the shore, the date was clearly visible: June 14, Saturday. I pulled up the invitation photo. June 21st, no mistake. My phone screen kept flashing. Vanessa was calling again. Before I could speak, Vanessa’s voice came crashing down. “Ethan! You gave my mother a heart attack! She’s in the hospital! If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive you! Where are you?” I took a deep breath, suppressing my anger. “Vanessa, I’ve been preparing this wedding for half a year. The date is set for June 21st. What’s the point of this scene you’re making today?” Vanessa’s voice turned cold. “You think I’d use my own mother’s health to put on an act? Even if you don’t want to get married anymore, we can sit down and talk. You called all the elders here, then left them hanging while you vacation at the beach?” She paused, her voice becoming hoarse. “Ethan, I never realized you had this much nerve.” My heart tightened. “Elders? What elders?” Vanessa turned the camera. George was standing in the hotel lobby, his wrinkled face filled with exhaustion. Seeing that familiar face, my head buzzed. I had to grip the railing to keep from falling. George faced the camera, his voice carrying a disappointment I’d never heard before. “Ethan, you’ve been so sensible since you were little. How could you joke about something this important today? You made Vanessa’s mother so upset she had to go to the hospital! Come over right now and apologize to everyone properly.” Vanessa took back the phone, her tone ice-cold. “If you have any sense of responsibility left, get over here now.” As soon as she finished speaking, she sent a hotel location. It was exactly where I’d died in my past life. My hand holding the phone began to tremble. I had just talked to George on the phone. He was grilling meat at the farm. How could he possibly appear at a hotel in the city center in just a few minutes? I immediately called George again. “Ethan, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Hearing such caring words, my heart didn’t warm at all. The video background was clearly next to the grill in the farm’s backyard. I steadied my emotions. “Nothing, George. I just missed you.” I hung up and sent the call recording to Vanessa. “My grandfather is at the farm right now. I don’t know who that person you found is.” A few minutes later, Vanessa sent a video. George was pacing back and forth at the hotel entrance, occasionally looking anxiously outside. When he heard any sound, he rushed out anxiously, tripped on a chair, and fell hard. My heart clenched watching it. Then Vanessa’s messages kept popping up. “Ethan, you’re really something, using AI video to deceive me. Your grandfather is at the hotel right now. He’s been waiting all morning!”

George said his only wish was to see me get married and see me happy. He’d prepared the family heirloom for me half a year in advance and even handcrafted a small wooden cradle. No matter what method Vanessa used to get George to the hotel, I had to go and ask him face to face. Recalling my past life when I rushed to the hotel entrance, the welcome sign clearly read June 21st. What was going on with all this? I organized the information I’d collected and sent it to Vanessa. After a few seconds, Vanessa video called me. Her eyes were slightly red, her voice carrying suppressed trembling. “Ethan, you’re still hung up on the date at this point? I don’t care what day it is today. I want you at the wedding venue right now.” After a few seconds of silence, her tone softened slightly. “Ethan, whatever happened, just come over first. Your family is all here. We’ll apologize to everyone properly, and it’ll be over. Your grandfather is old. He can’t handle this much stress.” My parents also crowded into the frame. My mother, Sarah, looked exhausted but still tried to sound calm. “Ethan, just come over. Even if you mixed up the dates, your father and I won’t blame you.” My throat tightened. “But today is the 14th. The wedding is the 21st.” My father, David, snatched the phone when he heard that, his face livid. “How did I raise you? When you make a mistake, you own up to it. Where did your manners go? How can you not even know what day it is? Get over here right now and apologize to everyone!” He hung up after saying that. Regardless, with my past life’s experience, I could definitely avoid the danger. I steeled myself. I wanted to see exactly what Vanessa was up to. With that thought, I picked up my pace and returned to the hotel to change clothes. When I got in the Uber, the first thing I looked at was the display screen. Just like my past life, the electronic screen showed June 14th. As soon as I sat down, I urgently said to the driver, “The Ritz Hotel, please.” The driver was clearly taken aback and glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Are you sure?” I nodded. The car sped down the road, scenery flying past the windows. The driver put on some soothing light music. Once my tense nerves relaxed, drowsiness slowly crept in. I don’t know how long passed. I rubbed my eyes, and when I saw the news notification on my phone clearly, I broke out in a cold sweat. A news story had shot to the top of Twitter’s trending topics. #Groom forgets wedding date and goes missing, bride’s mother dies of heart attack#

I stared at my phone screen. The comments section had exploded. [Is this guy sick? If you don’t want to get married, just say so. Is this really necessary?] [The bride’s mom was literally killed by stress. He needs to pay with his life!] [I heard the groom is still vacationing at the beach. Unbelievable.] [Wedding turned into a funeral. This guy’s life is over.] My finger scrolling through the screen trembled uncontrollably. Vanessa’s mother… was dead? That was impossible. In my past life, when I rushed to the hotel entrance and the flower pot fell, I clearly saw her screaming in horror from the second floor. I suddenly looked up at the taxi display screen. June 14th, 2:23 PM. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Young man, you don’t look so good.” “Sir, can you go any faster?” “This is already the fastest.” The driver paused. “The Ritz Hotel… I’d advise you to mentally prepare yourself.” My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?” The driver didn’t answer. He just silently turned up the music volume. It was an old song, “The Wedding March.” The gentle, melodious tune felt especially eerie now, giving me goosebumps. My phone rang again. It was Liam. “Ethan, where are you? Vanessa’s mother… she’s really gone.” His voice was low. “Come quickly. Vanessa’s in bad shape.” I gripped my phone tightly. “Liam, tell me, what day is it today?” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. “June 21st. Ethan, do you… really need to see a doctor?” I hung up, opened my camera, and aimed it at a road sign outside the window. Seaside Boulevard, 15 kilometers from the Ritz Hotel. The electronic screen on the sign clearly displayed: June 14, Saturday. I took a photo and sent it to Liam. He replied quickly. “Is photoshopping fun?” Then another message. “And you’re still hung up on the date at this point!” I turned off my phone and looked out the window. In the distance, the spire of the Ritz Hotel was faintly visible. In my past life, the flower pot had fallen from the curved balcony on the fourth floor. The taxi stopped at the hotel entrance. I paid, and the driver suddenly called out to me. “Young man,” he lowered his voice, looking at me in the rearview mirror, “don’t trust your eyes too much about some things.” I stared at him. “What do you mean?” The driver had already started the car and only left me with, “Sometimes people even lie to themselves with their own memories.” I stood in front of the hotel’s revolving door and took a deep breath. The lobby was empty. Unexpectedly quiet. In the distance, I could see a huge welcome sign standing in the center. The background was a wedding photo of Vanessa and me, with gold lettering: Groom: Ethan & Bride: Vanessa Wedding Date: June 21 Seeing this scene, my breathing suddenly quickened. The fear from my past life rampaged through my rationality. I was certain the accident in my past life was deliberate. If so, the killer wouldn’t show themselves unless I went over. They might even kill me another way. My back was already soaked with sweat. I gritted my teeth and charged forward. Bang! The flower pot exploded behind me. Flying ceramic shards cut bloody gashes on my leg. I had no time to care. I stepped back half a step and glanced up. The person hurriedly retreated, but I still caught sight of her face. I thought I knew what was going on. I steadied myself and quickly scanned my surroundings. Then a hand pressed on my shoulder from behind.

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“Summer, go play a Happy Birthday song for Evelyn.” Nathan sat on the sofa with Evelyn nestled in his arms. He was ordering me to perform for his mistress. My right hand had been crushed by a falling beam three years ago. I could no longer play a complete piece. But I couldn’t refuse. Because my brother was still lying in the ICU, and Nathan controlled his ventilator. I endured the piercing pain, pressing one key at a time. Evelyn walked over and poured red wine on my crippled hand. “That sounds awful.” The wine stained his mistress’s shoes, but Nathan didn’t even bat an eye. “Kneel down. Clean her shoes.” I knelt. In front of everyone, I bent my once-proud back and used my sleeve to wipe the wine stains from the tips of her shoes, bit by bit. I looked at Nathan one last time. He didn’t know I had terminal brain cancer. I only had three months left. Summer POV “Summer, malignant brain tumor, terminal stage. The tumor’s location is compressing your optic nerve and pain center. Surgery carries extreme risks. Without intervention, you have at most three months to live.” I looked at the brain scan in my hands, my face deathly pale, but my eyes showed not a trace of emotion. I simply nodded quietly and slipped the scan into a paper bag. “I understand. Doctor, no need to arrange hospitalization. Just prescribe me some painkillers. I’ll notify the hospital on my last day. Please help me arrange organ donation. My corneas… if they’re still usable, please donate those as well.” I saw the doctor freeze. He seemed to have never encountered a young person facing death with such calm. He tried to dissuade me again, but I only smiled palely, stood up, thanked him, and left. Walking out of the hospital entrance, the December wind cut through my thin coat like a knife. I pulled it tighter. The phone in my pocket suddenly vibrated violently. One name flashed on the screen: Nathan. I swiped to answer. The man’s voice was low and cold, without a trace of warmth. “Get to the New York Plaza Hotel within thirty minutes. For every minute you’re late, Mason’s ventilator gets unplugged.” “I’ll be right there.” I didn’t even offer an explanation before the call was ruthlessly disconnected. In the top-floor ballroom of the New York Plaza Hotel, people wore glamorous clothes, holding wine glasses and chatting with each other. Today was Evelyn’s twenty-fourth birthday. When I pushed open the heavy doors, all eyes fell on me. I wore a faded shirt that looked completely out of place here. In the center of the sofa, Nathan sat with his legs crossed, his handsome face radiating deep coldness. Evelyn leaned intimately against him, like a noble princess. “Oh, Summer’s here.” Evelyn covered her mouth with a coy laugh, her eyes full of contempt. “Nathan said he prepared a special surprise for me today.” Nathan held a cigarette between his fingers. He didn’t even lift his eyelids. His voice was bone-chillingly cold. “Summer, go to that stage over there. Play a Happy Birthday song for Evelyn.” Gasps immediately rippled through the room. Everyone knew I had once been New York’s famous piano prodigy, winning an international gold medal at fourteen. But three years ago in a fire, Nathan’s brother Ryan had died trying to save me, burned so badly he couldn’t be saved. And my right hand had been crushed by a falling beam. I could never play a complete piece again. Since then, Nathan hated me. He used every means to bankrupt my family. He used my brother Mason, now a vegetable, to blackmail me. He took me, once a proud prodigy, and crushed me beneath his feet. “What? You don’t want to?” Nathan lifted his eyes. His gaze was like a sharp blade. “Or would you rather go to the hospital tomorrow to collect Mason’s body?” “I’ll play.” My voice was hoarse. I didn’t resist. I walked to the pure white Steinway piano and sat down. My stiff, deformed right hand moved to the keys. The moment I pressed the first note, extreme pain spread from my finger bones throughout my entire body. But the worse pain came from deep within my brain. A tearing sensation. The tumor was acting up. My vision instantly blurred. I bit my pale lips and pressed one key at a time. The originally smooth, cheerful melody came out broken and fragmented under my fingers. Mocking laughter from wealthy girls echoed around me. “What piano prodigy? She plays worse than a street beggar now.” “She got Ryan killed. She deserves to be tortured like this by Nathan.” Evelyn picked up a glass of red wine and walked to the piano, deliberately sighing with false regret. “Summer, you play so badly. It’s really ruining the mood.” As soon as she finished speaking, she tilted her wrist. Red wine poured entirely onto my scarred right hand. The wine dripped along the keys. My whole body trembled. My fingers hung in midair. Then I heard Nathan’s cold, heartless voice. “Playing so badly, and you’ve dirtied Evelyn’s ears. Summer, kneel down and clean her shoes.” The entire ballroom fell deathly silent. I stared blankly at the man sitting not far away. That face was still the one I’d fallen for at first sight when I was eighteen. But the way he looked at me now held only endless disgust and hatred. Pain in my brain surged like a tsunami. My vision darkened in waves. Cold sweat beaded densely on my forehead. Seeing me motionless, Nathan suddenly smashed the wine glass in his hand onto the floor. The sound of shattering glass was piercing. “Do you not understand me? Kneel down!” I took a deep breath and forcibly swallowed the sourness in my eyes. I stood up and dragged my heavy legs to stand before Evelyn. Under everyone’s mocking gazes, I slowly bent my once-straight back. My knees touched the ground. “I’m sorry, Evelyn, for dirtying your ears.” Trembling, I extended my sleeve and wiped the red wine splattered on the tips of Evelyn’s shoes, bit by bit. My utterly humble posture finally brought a flash of satisfied cold amusement to Nathan’s eyes. He seemed to find it very satisfying. “Get out. Stop being an eyesore here.” Nathan spat out those few cold words. I stood up numbly, head bowed, and walked out. With every step, the pain in my brain intensified. Outside the hotel, New York was caught in a downpour. Without an umbrella, I could only stumble through the storm. Ryan, can you see this? The me you saved with your life has become a complete joke. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Soon I’ll go to make amends to you, to repay everything Nathan owes you, all of it cleared after death.

Summer POV I didn’t know how I made it back to the luxury villa. When I arrived home, I was soaked through, like someone just pulled from water. The villa was empty, with only endless darkness and cold wrapping around me. I’d just changed out of my wet clothes when a violent dizzy spell hit my brain. I leaned over the sink and vomited a large mouthful of fresh blood. The red liquid looked terrifying against the white ceramic basin. Trembling, I rinsed away the blood and fished two painkillers from my pocket, swallowing them dry. Just then, the roar of a car engine sounded from downstairs. Nathan had returned, and he’d brought Evelyn. I steadied myself against the wall and walked downstairs, just in time to see Evelyn intimately hugging Nathan’s neck as she surveyed the villa’s decor. “Nathan, after we get married, let’s redo all this decoration. I don’t like this cold style.” “Whatever you want.” Nathan’s voice carried rare tenderness. Hearing footsteps, they both looked up. Seeing me, the tenderness on Nathan’s face instantly vanished, replaced by extreme disgust. “What are you doing down here?” Before I could speak, Evelyn’s gaze suddenly fell on my neck. There hung a sapphire necklace. The only keepsake from my late mother, and the most valuable thing I owned. “Nathan, that necklace is so beautiful. My birthday wish tonight was to have a sapphire necklace just like that.” Evelyn leaned against Nathan’s chest, her voice coy. Nathan looked at me coldly and commanded without any warmth. “Take it off. Give it to Evelyn.” I clutched the pendant at my chest tightly, my knuckles turning white. “No! This is my mother’s keepsake. Nathan, you can’t take it!” For three years, no matter how he tortured me, I endured silently. But this necklace alone was my last connection to this world. “Keepsake?” Nathan sneered, strode forward, and gripped my chin, with force that seemed ready to crush my bones. “A vicious woman like you doesn’t deserve keepsakes. When you killed Ryan, did you think about how he didn’t even leave a last word!” I was forced to tilt my head back, my eyes red-rimmed, my voice violently trembling. “That fire wasn’t set by me! I’ve explained countless times!” “Shut up!” Nathan interrupted me brutally, his eyes churning with intense hatred. “I won’t listen to your excuses. The necklace. Either you take it off yourself, or I call the hospital to cut off Mason’s medication right now.” Mason was my younger brother, my only living relative who’d become a vegetable after being severely injured in that incident three years ago. Hearing Mason’s name, all the strength seemed to drain from my body instantly. The severe pain in my brain surged violently again. My vision became blurry in an instant. I laughed miserably as tears finally slid down my cheeks. “I’ll take it off.” With trembling hands, I unfastened the clasp at my neck. The sapphire, still warm with my body heat, was handed over by my own hands. Evelyn happily received it and put it on immediately. “Thank you, Nathan. I love it so much.” “As long as you’re happy.” Nathan didn’t even glance at me again. He put his arm around Evelyn and headed upstairs. “The air’s too dirty down here. Let’s go back to the room.” I stood alone in the spacious living room, hands clutching my head tightly, the pain almost suffocating. Late at night, the basement was cold and damp. This was the bedroom Nathan had arranged for me. I curled up on the narrow hard bed, my pain nerves tortured madly by the tumor. I bit the blanket to keep from making any sound, until a bloody taste welled up deep in my throat. I suddenly coughed up a large pool of dark blood that stained the rough sheets red. Three months… I looked at the blood in my palm, my lips twisting into a smile uglier than tears. Nathan, wait three more months. You’ll never have to see me again. This life of mine. I’ll return it to you soon.

Summer POV The next morning, I dragged my extremely weak body to the hospital. In the intensive care unit, Mason lay quietly on the bed, his body covered with tubes. I sat by the bed and gently held his pale, cold hand. My voice was as soft as a breeze. “Mason, I might not be able to wait for you to wake up. Don’t be afraid. After I’m gone, the money will be enough to maintain your treatment. If there’s a next life, you can protect me instead, okay?” The hospital room door opened. Dr. Hayes walked in wearing a white coat. Hayes was Mason’s attending physician. Over these three years, if he hadn’t been secretly looking after Mason, my brother wouldn’t have made it this far. “Summer, why do you look so bad?” Hayes looked at my gaunt face, his brow furrowed tightly. “What happened to your hand? And have you been having frequent headaches lately?” As a perceptive doctor, he seemed to have noticed something wrong with my body long ago. “I’m fine, Hayes. I just didn’t sleep well last night.” I instinctively hid my hand in my coat pocket and avoided his gaze. I couldn’t let anyone know about my condition. If Nathan found out, he’d only think it was a new trick to escape atonement. Hayes looked at my forbearing appearance. He seemed deeply pained. He suddenly stepped forward and gripped my shoulders. “Summer, stop staying with Nathan! He’s sucking you dry, demanding your life! Come with me. I’ll take you abroad. I can find a way to treat Mason too!” “What big words from Dr. Hayes. Where exactly do you want to take my wife?” A cold, vicious voice suddenly rang out from the doorway. Nathan, dressed in a black suit, strode into the room. His gaze fixed deadly on Hayes’s hands on my shoulders, his eyes filled with extreme fury. My heart lurched. I quickly pulled away from Hayes’s grip. “You’ve misunderstood. We were just discussing Mason’s condition.” “Misunderstood?” Nathan laughed coldly and grabbed my wrist, roughly pulling me to his side. “No wonder you couldn’t wait to run out first thing in the morning. Turns out you were rushing to meet your old flame. Summer, a woman as unfaithful as you truly disgusts me.” “Nathan, don’t go too far!” Hayes’s eyes reddened with anger. He rushed forward to pull me back. But Nathan swung his fist and punched Hayes in the face, shouting a warning. “Touch her one more time and I’ll pull Mason’s tubes today!” Those words hit my weak spot completely, cutting off any resistance. I desperately held Hayes back. “Hayes, please stop! I’ll go with him.” Nathan dragged me like lifeless cargo, stuffed me into the car, and sped all the way back to the villa. As soon as we entered, he threw me hard onto the carpet. “So desperate for a man? Can’t help seducing people even at the hospital?” Nathan loosened his tie and looked down at me from above, his eyes full of disgust. “Since you’re so idle, do something useful for me.” He waved his hand. Bodyguards carried in several heavy cardboard boxes filled with red wedding invitations. “Next month is my wedding with Evelyn. These remaining ten thousand invitations. You’ll write them all by hand. If you don’t finish, Mason won’t get another cent for medical expenses.” I lay on the floor, staring at that glaring red color, feeling as if my heart had been carved out alive. This was the wedding he’d once promised me. Now he wanted me to personally write his name alongside someone else’s. “Fine. I’ll write them.” Not a single tear fell. I was calm to the point of numbness. Seeing me not even resist, Nathan seemed even angrier. He snorted coldly and turned to leave. Under the dim light of the basement, I gripped my pen and wrote “Nathan” and “Evelyn” word by word. Ten thousand invitations. A mountain of them. By late night, the tumor’s compression of my optic nerve worsened again. The text before my eyes began to double, then became a blurry black mass. Extreme pain exploded from the back of my skull. My whole body convulsed from the pain. The pen tip scratched a jarring bloody line across the paper. I nearly bit through my lip just to keep from passing out. My vision went completely dark. I could only rely on muscle memory to write with my eyes closed in the darkness. Every stroke was the most painful farewell to this humble love.

Summer POV For three full days and nights, I was locked in the basement without a drop of water or bite of food, until I finished the last invitation. When I leaned against the wall and stumbled to push open the living room door, the harsh sunlight stung my already blurred eyes. On the sofa, Evelyn was trying on a lavish diamond wedding dress. Nathan sat nearby, flipping through documents. The scene was so warm it was blinding. Hearing movement, Evelyn turned her head and covered her nose in disgust. “Summer, why do you look like such a mess? You reek of mold. Stay away from my wedding dress.” I ignored her and walked to Nathan, my voice so weak it seemed ready to break. “Ten thousand invitations. I’ve finished them. Mason’s medical expenses. You should transfer them to the hospital now.” Nathan looked up. His gaze fell on my deathly pale face and cracked lips. His brow furrowed slightly. Before he could speak, Evelyn suddenly stood up from the sofa and walked to my side. She deliberately stepped on the long train of her wedding dress, then cried out and fell backward. “Nathan, save me!” Nathan reacted quickly and caught Evelyn in one swift motion. Evelyn took the opportunity to clutch her stomach, tears streaming down her face. “Summer, I know you’re jealous I get to marry Nathan, but you can’t push me!” “I didn’t push you.” I stated the fact calmly. A heavy slap struck my face hard. Nathan’s face was icy cold, the viciousness in his eyes undisguised. “Summer, you never change! If anything happens to Evelyn, I absolutely won’t let you off!” The slap knocked my head to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. My ears rang. The whole world seemed to spin endlessly. “Nathan, my engagement ring is gone!” Evelyn suddenly shrieked, pointing at the outdoor pool beyond the floor-to-ceiling window. “When she pushed me just now, the ring flew off and fell into the pool! You gave me that ring!” It was now frigid December. The outdoor temperature had dropped to ten degrees below zero. The pool’s surface had even formed a thin layer of ice. Nathan looked at me coldly and ordered mercilessly. “Go fish it out.” I stared hard into those bottomless black eyes, trying to find even the slightest trace of reluctance. But there was none. Only endless indifference and hatred. “Nathan, I’ll die in there.” My voice was extremely soft, stating a fact. “Then go die.” The man spat out those five words ruthlessly. “That life of yours was owed to the family anyway.” Yes. I owed him. I smiled. I turned around, pushed open the floor-to-ceiling window, and walked into the biting cold wind. Under Nathan’s and Evelyn’s watchful eyes, I stepped into the freezing pool without hesitation. The bone-chilling water instantly submerged my calves, then my waist, then my chest. That cold wasn’t just cold. It was like countless red-hot needles stabbing into my marrow all at once. The nerve pain from the brain tumor erupted completely under the extreme cold’s stimulation. My face went white as paper. I groped underwater, diving into the ice water again and again. Through my hazy vision, I saw Nathan standing by the floor-to-ceiling window on shore, watching my body rise and sink in the ice water. He bit down hard on his teeth. His hands seemed to unconsciously clench into fists. Three hours later. I finally found that sparkling diamond ring on the filter screen at the bottom of the pool. My whole body was as stiff as an ice sculpture. My legs had completely lost all sensation. Relying on the last instinct for survival, I forced myself to crawl ashore. “The ring. I found it.” I collapsed on the floor, trembling as I held that diamond ring out to Evelyn. But Evelyn stepped back in disgust, covering her nose. “After falling in that dirty water, I don’t want it anymore. Nathan, let’s just go buy a new one, okay?” “Fine. Since it’s dirty, throw it away.” Nathan’s voice came from above my head. Immediately after, the ring I’d traded half my life for was kicked mercilessly into a nearby trash can by the man. I lay on the cold floor, staring at that sparkling ring in the garbage, and suddenly let out a hoarse, low laugh. The laughter grew louder, mixed with violent coughing. I felt everything inside my body tearing apart. Nathan, you’ve not only trampled my dignity, you’ve personally killed the last faint glimmer of love I had. My vision plunged into complete darkness. In that icy cold, I lost consciousness entirely.

Summer POV “How long has she been playing dead?” Through the haze, I heard a cold voice near my ear. “Mr. Nathan, Summer has been burning with a 104-degree fever for a full day and night. If this continues, someone’s going to die…” the servant answered fearfully. “Die? Disasters live long. She’s not that easy to kill.” Nathan snorted coldly. I heard his footsteps fade farther away. I lay on the hard bed in the basement, feeling as if I were in a burning sea of flames. It felt like thousands of drills were frantically grinding in my head. The pain left me without even the strength to make a sound. It hurts so much… someone save me… Just when I thought I’d die in endless darkness, the basement door was kicked open. Hayes burst in with bloodshot eyes. Seeing me unconscious with fever on the bed, he looked both furious and heartbroken. “Summer! Wake up!” He immediately took off his coat and wrapped it around my cold body, lifted me up, and charged out of the villa like an enraged lion, heading straight for the hospital. The emergency room’s red light stayed on for three full hours. In the hospital room, I had an IV in my hand. My already thin face was now utterly bloodless. Hayes looked at the just-released brain scan report. His hands were trembling violently. “Terminal malignant brain tumor… Summer, why didn’t you tell me anything!” Hayes’s voice carried a desperate sob. I slowly opened my unfocused eyes and weakly pulled at the corner of my mouth. “Hayes, don’t tell Nathan… I don’t want him to think I’m using a sympathy ploy to deceive him.” “Even now you’re still protecting him!” Hayes closed his eyes in pain. Bang! The hospital room door was suddenly kicked open with tremendous force. Nathan strode in with an icy aura. He stared deadly at Hayes holding my hand by the bedside. The fury in his eyes seemed ready to burn everything down. “Hayes, you’ve got some nerve, daring to snatch someone from my villa?” Nathan stepped forward through gritted teeth, grabbed Hayes by the collar, and shoved him aside hard. Then his gaze turned darkly to me on the bed. “I thought you were really dying, but turns out you just switched locations to have a tryst with your old flame. Summer, you truly have no shame!” “Nathan, you’ve gone too far! Do you know she’s already…” Hayes angrily tried to shout the truth, but was interrupted by my weak scream. “Hayes! Don’t say it!” I coughed violently, my eyes full of pleading. In Nathan’s eyes, this seemed like ironclad proof that I was desperately protecting Hayes. “What a touching tragic couple’s performance.” Nathan laughed in extreme anger. He suddenly reached out and ripped the IV needle from the back of my hand! The sharp needle was brutally pulled from the vein, bringing up a string of red blood droplets that splattered on the white sheets. “Nathan, you’re insane!” Hayes tried to intervene but was pinned against the wall by bodyguards who’d followed. “Come back with me.” Nathan completely ignored my cry of pain. Like dragging a lifeless rag, he forcibly pulled me from the hospital bed. My legs had no strength. I fell directly onto the cold tiles. Blood from the back of my hand dripped onto the floor, but I didn’t struggle. I lifted my head. Those once-bright eyes now looked like a pool of stagnant water. “Nathan.” My voice was extremely soft but carried a frightening death-like stillness. “In this life, have you ever loved me?” Nathan’s movement paused. He seemed to feel a stab of pain, but he quickly covered it up and mocked coldly. “Love? You think you’re worthy? You’re only fit to spend a lifetime atoning at Ryan’s grave!” “I understand now.” I closed my eyes. A final tear slid from the corner of my eye. In this moment, the shackles that had bound me for three years finally shattered completely. The Summer who deeply loved Nathan had died in that cold hospital room. What remained was just a shell counting down to death.

Summer POV Three days later was the third anniversary of Ryan’s death. The sky was overcast gray, drizzling cold winter rain. In New York’s largest cemetery, the atmosphere was oppressively suffocating. Ryan’s parents stood before Ryan’s headstone, faces full of grief. Evelyn held a black umbrella, standing obediently beside Nathan. When I dragged my extremely weak body close, Ryan’s mother’s eyes instantly turned red. She rushed at me like a madwoman, raised her hand, and slapped me hard across the face. “You cursed woman! How dare you show your face to see my son?!” she screamed shrilly. She swung her other hand for another slap, hitting me so hard I swayed and fell heavily into a muddy puddle. “If it weren’t for you, how would my son have been burned alive! Why didn’t you die? Why wasn’t it you who died!” Ryan’s mother cried and screamed while picking up the flowers in her hand and throwing them frantically at my head and face. I didn’t dodge. I knelt on the ground, letting mud and petals fall all over me. My cheeks were swollen and aching. My eardrums rang. My vision had blurred so much I couldn’t see Ryan’s photo on the headstone clearly. I could only bow my head deeply toward that direction. “I’m sorry…” My voice was hoarse, repeating over and over. Nathan watched all this coldly, like a lofty judge. “Nathan, Summer looks so pitiful. Why don’t we just let it go?” Evelyn pleaded falsely from the side, but her eyes were full of satisfaction. “She’s pitiful? When Ryan was burned to death in the ruins, who pitied him?” Nathan’s voice held not a trace of warmth. He walked to stand before me, looking down at my utterly wretched appearance from above, and coldly ordered, “Since you came to atone, show some sincerity. Kneel here for twenty-four hours. One minute less, and I’ll make Mason go down to keep Ryan company.” I stiffly lifted my head. Rain slid down my pale face. “Fine.” I answered calmly and straightened my back, kneeling properly before the headstone. They turned and left with their umbrellas. Soon, the vast cemetery held only me. The winter rain was bone-piercing, cutting like blade edges into my skin. The severe pain from the brain tumor compressing my nerves made every second a living hell. But I didn’t dare fall, because Mason was still waiting for me in the ICU. From day to night, then to the next morning. Twenty-four hours. I endured it all. When Nathan’s bodyguard came to check, what he saw was a body that seemed already frozen to death. I mechanically stood up. My legs, after prolonged lack of blood circulation, gave out and I collapsed to the ground. I spat out a mouthful of dark red blood. The blood sprayed onto the stone slab in front of Ryan’s headstone. I carelessly wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. I looked at the headstone and murmured in a low voice. “Ryan, the life I owed you. I’ve repaid it with three years of endless torment. The rest, I’ll soon come to the other world to return to you personally.” After leaving the cemetery, I didn’t return to the villa. Instead, I went to the hospital. I found Hayes and handed him a signed transfer consent form. “Hayes, do me a favor. I’ve already contacted brain neurology specialists abroad. Take Mason overseas for treatment. I’ve transferred that overseas trust fund under my name entirely to your account. The password is Mason’s birthday. This money will be enough for him to live comfortably for the rest of his life.” Hayes looked at the documents in his hands. His eyes suddenly reddened. He grabbed my wrist. “Summer, what about you? Are you coming with us?” I gently withdrew my hand, a weak smile forming on my lips. “I’m not going. I can’t walk anymore, Hayes.” “No, modern medicine is so advanced. As long as you’re willing to go abroad, there’s definitely still hope!” “There’s no hope.” I calmly pointed to my own eyes. “Since yesterday, I can’t see anything anymore.”My time left is only three days.” Hayes stood there as if struck by lightning. Desperate tears spilled from his eyes. I turned around, groped along the wall, and slowly walked out of the hospital. In this world, my only concern had been properly arranged. Next, I only needed to quietly wait for death to come.

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I used to believe Ethan truly loved me. Until that day, when I found the engagement invitation in his car. His and Vivian Sinclair’s, the heiress of the wealthy Sinclair family. Ethan was getting married, but the bride wasn’t me. And in front of me, he was still the same gentle, considerate, perfect boyfriend. In the private lounge, he and his friends mocked me in French. “Keeping Lila on the side isn’t much trouble. She’s so obedient in bed, I can’t bear to break up with her.” They didn’t know. My French scores were top of my class. For three years, I clipped my own wings, willing to be his caged canary. Now it’s time to wake from this dream. I submitted my application to study at the top veterinary medical center in Boston. Ethan, you’re getting married. And I’m going to fly back to the sky where I belong. Lila POV “Miss Hayes, working late again today? Mr. Ford has been waiting outside for you for quite a while.” Sarah, a nurse, smiled and joked. I took off my work clothes, washed my hands, and smiled gently. “There was an emergency surgery today. It took a bit longer than expected. I’m heading out now. Thanks everyone for your hard work.” I pushed open the glass door of the veterinary hospital. The early autumn night breeze carried a hint of chill. A low-key, luxurious black Maybach was parked by the curb. The window rolled halfway down, revealing Ethan’s handsome profile. Three years together. He was the heir to New York’s top financial empire, and I was just an ordinary veterinarian. Everyone said I was lucky, and I once believed Ethan truly loved me. I opened the car door and got into the passenger seat. Ethan naturally leaned over to fasten my seatbelt, his crisp woody cologne enveloping me. “Why so late today? I’m taking you to meet some friends.” His voice was low and lazy, with its usual indulgence. “A dog had complications during birth. I just finished doing a cesarean section.” I explained softly, reaching for the wet wipes in the glove compartment to clean my hands. But the moment I pulled open the drawer, my movements froze. Deep in the glove compartment lay a white invitation. The invitation bore two familiar names. Ethan Ford and Vivian Sinclair. My breathing stopped for a moment, my fingers trembling slightly. Vivian was the heiress of New York’s Sinclair family, also from an extremely wealthy background. So while I’d been standing at the operating table until my legs went numb for a few hundred dollars in surgery fees, my boyfriend had already set a wedding date with someone else. “What’s wrong?” Ethan noticed my reaction and glanced over. I calmly pulled out a wet wipe, closed the glove compartment, my voice so steady even I found it unbelievable. “Nothing, just grabbing a tissue.” Half an hour later, the car stopped at New York’s most exclusive private club. The lounge door opened to reveal luxury and opulence, smoke curling in the air. The noisy conversation paused in unison the moment they saw me. Ethan took my hand and led me to a seat, his expression untroubled. Before I could adjust to the atmosphere, Marcus, sitting across from us, raised his eyebrows, his tone dripping with undisguised contempt. “Ethan, why’d you bring Lila Hayes? This lounge has poor ventilation. Why do I smell that animal stench?” The moment he finished speaking, low laughter rippled through the lounge. My fingers tightened around my glass, knuckles turning white. Every day at the hospital I dealt with sick animals. Even though I showered and changed clothes before leaving work, to these rich kids’ noses, I seemed to permanently carry an unwashable animal smell. I turned to look at Ethan, but saw him only carelessly swirl the wine in his glass. He didn’t speak up for me. Instead, he said in that tone one uses to soothe a pet, “Honey, ignore them. They’re just joking.” Marcus saw Ethan wasn’t angry and grew bolder, deliberately speaking in French to the person beside him. “Ethan is getting engaged to Vivian next month. What are you planning to do about Lila? You’re not seriously going to keep her for life, are you?” Everyone present knew I came from an ordinary background, had even paid for college with scholarships. They were certain I couldn’t understand French, and their laughter grew more unrestrained. Ethan took a sip of wine and replied in equally fluent French. “The marriage alliance is my family’s idea. The wedding is just going through the motions. Lila is very obedient, doesn’t make a fuss. Keeping her on the side isn’t much trouble.” The lounge erupted in laughter again. Someone mocked, “True, these broke women are so easy. Give them a little money and they’ll behave.” The mocking laughter assaulted my ears. No one noticed that sitting quietly in the corner, the light in my eyes was extinguishing bit by bit, turning into deathly silence. They didn’t know I’d taken a second language in college. My French scores were top of the entire program. Three years together, Ethan spoiled me lavishly. Bought me designer bags, let me live in his mansion. But never once introduced me to his family. I thought he was protecting me, afraid I’d be hurt. Only today did I understand. In his eyes, I was never a partner who could stand beside him, but a “very obedient, quiet” pet. In that moment, I suddenly felt even confronting him was unnecessary. From now on, he could marry his Vivian, and I would be a veterinarian. We would have nothing to do with each other anymore.

Lila POV After everyone had been drinking for a while, the atmosphere in the lounge grew increasingly heated. I felt cold all over. When the gathering ended, everyone headed out together. I lagged half a step behind. Just as I reached the hallway, I heard a voice laced with malice behind me. “Lila.” I stopped and turned. It was one of the wealthy guys who’d laughed the loudest in the lounge earlier. He looked me up and down and sneered. “Ethan’s getting married soon. If you’re smart, you’ll take the money and leave. Don’t think that just because you’ve been with Ethan for a few years, you can marry into a wealthy family. Someone like you who deals with animals all day. How could you compare to Vivian?” I looked at him quietly, my face showing no ripples, as if watching a clown. Ethan, who’d been walking ahead, noticed I hadn’t followed and turned back, coldly glancing at the man. “Watch your mouth.” The man awkwardly touched his nose and didn’t dare say more. On the drive back, the car was terrifyingly quiet. When we arrived at the apartment they shared, Ethan took off his coat and hung it on the rack. From behind, he pulled me into his embrace, his chin resting against the hollow of my neck, his voice low and soft. “You had a rough time today? I won’t take you to these kinds of gatherings anymore, so their words won’t upset you.” I didn’t struggle, only asked in a flat tone, “Do you think I embarrassed you?” Ethan chuckled softly, turned me around to face him, and reached to ruffle my hair, but I dodged by tilting my head. His hand froze in mid-air. He said helplessly, “What are you overthinking? I just don’t want them targeting you. Honey, you just need to know that you’re the only one in my heart. That’s enough.” The only one in his heart? Then what was that white invitation? What did “keeping on the side” mean? I looked at his affectionate eyes and felt nothing but disgust. I didn’t expose him, only said flatly, “I’m tired. I want to shower.” Ethan let me go. “Alright, go shower. I’ll handle some emails in the study.” When I came out from my shower, Ethan had just gone into the bathroom. He casually left his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up with an Ins message. Ethan’s password was my birthday. I’d never checked his phone before, but today, I couldn’t control myself from reaching out. Unlock. Open Ins. Besides me, there was another account at the top without a name. The newest message read: “Honey, we’re trying on wedding dresses tomorrow. Can’t you come keep me company tonight? I know you can’t bear to leave your girlfriend, but we’re getting married soon. You need to show me some respect, right?” Scrolling up, there were chat records of them discussing wedding venues and selecting diamond rings. Though Ethan didn’t reply much, every sentence showed the indulgence and compromise a fiancé should have. Looking at those glaring sentences, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain suffocating. I put the phone back and reset the message to unread. Before long, Ethan came out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam, picked up his phone and glanced at it. His expression changed slightly. He turned to look at me sitting at the vanity, a flash of apology in his eyes. “Lila, there’s an urgent matter at the company. I need to go over there. I probably won’t be back tonight. You should get some sleep early.” He left in such a hurry, he didn’t even wait for my response. After a while, my phone vibrated. It was a message from an unknown number. In the photo, Ethan sat on the sofa in the Sinclair family villa, Vivian leaning against his shoulder, the two in an intimate pose. Then came a text message: “With just one word from me, he’ll still abandon you to come find me. Lila, after we get married, what will you be? A shameful mistress?” I stared at the screen as tears finally fell. This knife was wielded by Vivian, but handed to her by Ethan himself. I wiped away my tears, opened my laptop, logged into the hospital’s internal system, and pulled up a document. “Application for Selection of Outstanding Physicians for Two-Year Advanced Training at Boston’s Top Veterinary Medical Center.” Without hesitation, I filled in the information and clicked submit. Ethan, since you’re getting married, I wish you a happy wedding.

Lila POV The next day, I went to the hospital as usual. The director was very surprised when he saw my training application. “Lila, this training opportunity is rare, but you’d have to spend two full years in Boston. Does Mr. Ford agree?” I lowered my eyes, my voice calm but firm. “This is my personal career plan. It has nothing to do with him. I hope it can be approved as soon as possible.” Seeing my resolute attitude, the director sighed and signed it. “Alright, the procedures will take about a week. Prepare for the handover these next few days.” After work, I returned to the apartment and took out a large black trash bag, beginning to clean out the room. Couple’s mugs, couple’s slippers, clothes he’d bought me, even the stuffed animals we’d gotten together at the amusement park… Everything that held memories of us together, I mercilessly threw into the trash bag. I’d just carried two large bags of trash to the door when I heard the lock turn. Ethan pushed open the door. Seeing the trash bags on the floor and the much emptier living room, he frowned slightly. “Why are you suddenly cleaning out so much stuff?” “Season’s changing, spring cleaning. I’m throwing out old things I don’t need anymore.” My tone was indifferent, and I didn’t even glance at him. Ethan didn’t think much of it. He walked over and hugged me from behind, his tone carrying a hint of coaxing. “The company had too much going on last night, I couldn’t keep you company. There’s a charity gala tonight. Want to come with me?” In the past, I would have considerately declined, afraid I didn’t understand those high society rules and would embarrass him. But today, I turned to look at that affectionate face and nodded. “Sure.” The gala was held in the ballroom of a seven-star hotel. I wore the haute couture gown Ethan had someone deliver, and walked into the venue on his arm. The moment we entered, we attracted quite a few glances. We hadn’t walked far when a woman in a wine-red evening gown with exquisite makeup approached. It was Vivian from the photos. Vivian’s gaze lingered for a moment on my arm linked with Ethan’s. A flash of jealousy crossed her eyes, but she quickly masked it and spoke with a bright smile. “Ethan, you made it.” Ethan’s expression showed a moment of discomfort. He instinctively withdrew his arm from mine and introduced us. “Lila, this is Vivian, a good friend of mine.” Good friend. I laughed coldly inside, but my face showed no reaction. Vivian held a Ragdoll cat in her arms and looked at me coquettishly. “I’ve heard Ethan has a girlfriend who’s a veterinarian. Finally getting to meet you today. Miss Hayes, my cat hasn’t been feeling well lately. Since you have so much experience caring for these little animals, could you take a look?” She emphasized the last sentence heavily, her contempt undisguised. Several of Ethan’s friends gathered around and chimed in. “That’s right, Miss Hayes. This is Miss Sinclair’s beloved pet, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. More than your annual salary. You’d better take good care of it.” I stood there, my gaze cold as it swept over everyone, finally landing on Ethan’s face. Ethan frowned slightly, seeming to think Vivian’s words were too much, but he didn’t speak up to scold her. Instead, he said to me, “Lila, if you know how, just take a look for her.” The last trace of hope in my heart shattered completely. I withdrew my gaze, glanced at the cat, my voice cold. “Miss Sinclair, the cat is severely stressed. Noisy environments like galas aren’t suitable for bringing pets. If you truly loved it, you wouldn’t use it as a tool to show off. Also, I’m a doctor, not a servant.” Vivian’s expression stiffened. Just as she was about to lose her temper, Ethan interrupted her. “Alright, Vivian. Lila’s right. Have someone take the cat back.” He seemed to be defending me, but the intimacy and indulgence in his tone was like a thorn stabbing deep into my heart.

Lila POV The charity auction began. Ethan and Vivian’s seats were arranged together. The organizers’ deliberate arrangement in consideration of the upcoming marriage alliance between their families. As Ethan’s date, I could only sit on his other side. As auction items were displayed one by one on stage, Vivian kept leaning over to whisper to Ethan. The two appeared intimate, like a couple. I sat beside them like a superfluous outsider. “Our next auction item is a pet collar set with top-grade pink diamonds. Starting bid, two million.” The host’s voice rang out on stage. Vivian’s eyes lit up and she immediately raised her paddle. “Three million.” Marcus from the back row whistled and laughed loudly. “Miss Sinclair is so wealthy, spending three million on a cat collar. Miss Hayes, even if you did spay and neuter surgeries your whole life, you probably couldn’t earn enough for this collar, could you?” Low snickers rippled through the crowd. I sat with my spine straight, my gaze fixed forward, as if I hadn’t heard those taunts. Ethan frowned, turned to look at me, and said in a low voice to comfort me. “Ignore them. What do you like? I’ll bid on it for you.” I turned to look at him, at those deep eyes, my tone so calm it held no ripples. “No need. I’m not worthy of such expensive things.” Ethan thought I was sulking and immediately raised his paddle. “Five million.” The entire venue buzzed. Vivian looked at him with delight. “Ethan, are you buying it for me?” Ethan didn’t deny it, only smiled faintly. I felt the air here suffocating. I stood up. “I’m going to the restroom.” I splashed cold water on my face, looked at my pale reflection in the mirror, and took a deep breath. Just as I was about to turn and leave, the restroom door was pushed open. Vivian walked in on her high heels. Without outsiders, Vivian dropped her mask completely, her eyes contemptuous and vicious. “Lila, I thought my message was clear enough. Why are you still shamelessly clinging to Ethan?” I pulled out a paper towel to dry my hands, looking at her coldly. “Miss Sinclair, please get it straight. I’m the one who’s been with him for three years. Who’s really the homewrecker here?” Vivian laughed as if she’d heard the biggest joke. “Love? You think there’s real love in wealthy families? You’re from an ordinary family, you’re a veterinarian. You have nothing. What do you have to compare with me? Do you really think Ethan will marry you?” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “He’s just after something fresh, treating you like a toy. Next month we’re getting engaged. If you’re smart, you’ll leave him quickly. Otherwise, once I become Mrs. Ford, I have plenty of ways to make your life in New York unbearable!” Looking at her arrogant face, I felt no anger in my heart, only deep sorrow. I wasn’t sad about Vivian’s bullying, but about Ethan’s tacit permission and indulgence. “Don’t worry, Miss Sinclair.” I threw the used paper towel precisely into the trash bin, my tone as cold as if discussing something completely unrelated to me. “I never take back trash. You two are the real couple. I wish you a lifetime together.” With that, I ignored Vivian’s furious expression and walked straight out of the restroom. When I returned to the ballroom, the auction had ended. Ethan held the velvet box containing the pink diamond collar and handed it to Vivian. Seeing me return, he walked over and put his arm around my waist. “Where were you for so long? The gala’s over. Let’s go home.” I didn’t dodge his touch, only nodded obediently. Go home? No, that apartment full of lies had long ceased to be my home.

Lila POV The three of us walked together to the hotel’s underground parking garage. Ethan had just pressed the car key to unlock when Vivian quickly walked over in her high heels, her face showing just the right amount of distress. “Ethan, my car won’t start, and my driver took the day off. Could you give me a ride home?” Ethan frowned slightly and instinctively glanced at me. I stood in place, my expression indifferent, as if I hadn’t heard Vivian’s words. Seeing Ethan hesitate, Vivian bit her lip, her voice softer. “Mom specifically told me today to come home early and rest. We still have to try on wedding dresses tomorrow. If you don’t take me home and Mom asks…” Hearing “Mom” and “try on wedding dresses,” Ethan’s expression darkened, but he finally nodded. “Get in.” A flash of triumph crossed Vivian’s eyes as she walked straight to the passenger seat and opened the door. “Oh my,” she suddenly exaggeratedly covered her nose, fanning the air in disgust. “Why does the passenger seat smell like dog hair? Miss Hayes, you sit here all the time and don’t bother to clean up? I’m allergic to animal fur.” I watched her crude performance coldly. I was wearing an evening gown today and hadn’t been to the hospital at all. Where would dog hair come from? Ethan’s frown deepened. He looked at me, his tone carrying a hint of imperceptible irritation. “Lila, sit in the back. Vivian has allergies.” I didn’t argue, didn’t even hesitate for a second. I directly opened the back door and got in. My movements were quick and decisive, which actually made Ethan freeze for a moment. He probably expected me to make a scene, to feel wronged. But I was as calm as stagnant water. The car left the parking garage and drove onto the road. Vivian sat in the passenger seat, happily chatting with Ethan about their families’ collaborative projects and the upcoming engagement party details. “Ethan, that French restaurant has great desserts. Let’s use them for the engagement party favors, okay?” “Sure.” “Also, the wedding dress, the designer said it’ll be ready tomorrow. You have to come with me to try it on.” “Mm, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” They chatted happily, treating me in the back seat as if I were air. I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. The neon lights flashing by outside the window alternated across my pale face. Listening to their intimate conversation up front, I felt wave after wave of nausea. I used to think Ethan was a man of few words. It turned out he just had nothing to say to me. In the social class he belonged to, he could be just as gentle, considerate, and talkative. The car first drove to Vivian’s family villa. Before getting out, Vivian deliberately turned to look at me, her eyes full of a victor’s pride. “Miss Hayes, thank you for giving me the passenger seat today. Ethan, see you tomorrow.” The car door closed and the car fell silent again. Ethan cleared his throat, attempting to explain. “Vivian has been spoiled by her family since childhood. She says things that are a bit much. Don’t take it to heart. I only took her because our families are working together…” “Ethan,” I interrupted him, slowly opening my eyes, my gaze clear and cold. “Pull over at the intersection up ahead. The hospital just messaged me. There’s an emergency surgery and they need me to come back.” Ethan was taken aback. “It’s so late and you still have to go back? I’ll take you to the hospital.” “No need. It’s not on your way.” My tone was firm. The car stopped at the intersection. I pushed open the door and walked into the night without looking back.

Lila POV For the next few days, I practically lived at the veterinary hospital. Using work handover and emergency cases as excuses, I declined all of Ethan’s invitations and didn’t return to the apartment even once. Friday afternoon, the training approval documents were officially issued. Next Monday, I would fly to Boston. I arranged to meet my best friend Chloe at a coffee shop near the hospital. “What? You’re going to Boston for two years of training? And you’re breaking up with Ethan?!” After hearing my words, Chloe nearly spit out her coffee. I stirred the coffee in my cup, calmly recounting the invitation, Vivian’s provocations, and that phrase in the lounge about “keeping on the side.” “Ethan, that bastard!” Chloe slammed the table in anger, drawing glances from surrounding customers. “I used to think he was one of the rare devoted ones among the wealthy! Having a marriage alliance with a rich heiress while still wanting to keep you as a mistress? How dare he!” I smiled bitterly. “Yeah, I used to think he truly loved me too. But now that I see clearly, it’s good I can end this mistake early.” “When are you planning to make it clear to him?” Chloe held my hand sympathetically. “The day I leave.” I lowered my eyes. “I don’t want to fight with him, and I don’t want to hear his hypocritical explanations. Leaving quietly is the last dignity for this relationship.” Just then, the wind chime at the coffee shop entrance rang. I instinctively looked up, and the color drained from my face instantly. The person walking in was none other than Ethan and Vivian. The two walked in side by side. Vivian intimately held Ethan’s arm, tilting her head to say something, smiling radiantly. Though Ethan’s expression was neutral, there was no resistance in his eyes. He even considerately pushed open the glass door for her. This scene stabbed my eyes and completely ignited Chloe’s fury. “These two bastards actually dare to show up right in front of us!” Chloe shot up from her seat, about to rush over and confront them. I grabbed her, clutching her wrist tightly, my voice trembling slightly. “Chloe, don’t. It’s not worth it for people like them.” The commotion on our end caught Ethan’s attention. He turned his head, his gaze cutting through several tables to collide directly with my cold stare. Ethan’s body went rigid. He instinctively tried to withdraw his arm from Vivian’s grasp. Vivian also saw me. Not only did she not let go, she held on even tighter, defiantly lifting her chin. Ethan’s expression changed. He quickly walked to my table, his tone tinged with panic he himself hadn’t noticed. “Lila, what are you doing here? I… Vivian and I were just discussing business nearby and stopped in for coffee.” “Discussing business requires holding arms? Mr. Ford’s business methods are truly unique!” Chloe laughed coldly, her mockery merciless. Ethan’s brow furrowed. He ignored Chloe, staring intently at me. “Lila, let me explain…” “There’s no need to explain.” I stood up, my tone terrifyingly calm. “Mr. Ford, this is your private matter. You don’t need to explain it to me. We have things to do. We’re leaving first.” I didn’t call him Ethan, but Mr. Ford. I pulled Chloe along and walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.

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The day I moved out, I sent Robertson a voice message. “Let’s break up.” A second later, he replied with one word: “Okay.” My best friend Catherine sat across from me, her jaw practically hitting the floor. “You two were about to get married. Breaking up is that simple?” I took a sip of coffee, bitterness spreading through my mouth. “Because he didn’t even listen to my voice message.” No matter what message I sent him, he only ever replied with “okay.” It actually didn’t bother me at first. I’d gotten used to it. Until I discovered that when other women sent him voice messages, he’d smile and patiently listen to every word. When I saw that 60-second voice message marked as “read” on Robertson’s phone, he was still asleep. The light from the phone screen hit my face, and tears just streamed down. I knew Robertson found it troublesome. He didn’t like chatting. He didn’t like listening to voice messages. Over the years, I’d learned to accept it. But that fully-listened-to 60-second voice message carved a wound straight through my heart. Thiago. His high school classmate. His gaming partner. They chatted about games every day, mixed with everyday conversation. Their chat history took up twice as much storage as mine. Love becomes heavy through difference. Robertson’s character seemed to have crumbled too. “Baby… come here.” Perhaps my crying was too loud. Robertson stirred awake, half-conscious. His arm reached out and pulled me tightly into his embrace. His warm arms carried Robertson’s unique scent, and my tears broke through the dam. He loved me too, didn’t he? He still wanted to hold me while sleeping… In that moment, I wanted so badly to wake him up and confront him. To have a huge fight. But I was truly exhausted. Robertson and I were pressed close together, yet I felt he was so far away. This bed was too wide. I lay on my side like that all night, letting the tears fall silently. I thought Robertson and I had reached the end. The next day I started looking at apartments. After half a month of searching, I settled on a two-bedroom. During all this time, Robertson didn’t notice a thing. Even today when he left, I answered a call from the moving company and he didn’t pay attention. After eating with Catherine and saying goodbye, I returned to the apartment Robertson and I shared. This apartment was bought by Robertson’s parents as our wedding home. Although we weren’t married yet, to save money, Robertson and I had moved in early. I didn’t actually need to come back. After all, this home barely had anything of mine left in it. But I wanted to see how long it would take a forensic scientist—someone who survived by detecting the smallest clues—to notice his future wife had moved out. I’d just sat down when the door behind me opened. “Home early today?” Robertson bent down to change his shoes, greeting me naturally, no different from any other day. As expected, he hadn’t listened to that voice message. Like an auto-reply bot, he’d just responded with “okay.” I opened my mouth, bitterness filling it, hard to swallow. “Why didn’t you make dinner?” Robertson glanced at the empty dining table and asked with surprise. Unless there was something unusual or special plans, I basically cooked for him every day. I didn’t answer. Robertson put down his bag and went into the bathroom.

Through the door, I could hear Robertson typing on his phone. And some audio leaking out. No need to guess—he was chatting with Thiago. I’d actually made a scene about this once before. Robertson didn’t take it seriously. He thought I was making a big deal out of nothing. “I’m with you every day. Why would I need to chat online? If it’s urgent, you can call. If it’s not urgent, you can tell me when I get home.” “Thiago is different. We don’t see each other every day, so of course we chat!” I rubbed my temples and walked into the bedroom. When I came back out, Robertson had already ordered takeout and was eating. Only one portion. Nothing for me. I couldn’t help but laugh, my voice trembling as I asked him, “Why did you only order one?” “Huh? Did you want some?” “I thought you were dieting to fit into your wedding dress!” When he said this, Robertson didn’t even look up at me. If he’d just looked up, he would have seen my tears. But he didn’t. “Robertson, let’s talk.” I took a deep breath. The instant I pulled out a chair to sit down, he stood up. “No time. Thiago and I are scheduled to play games.” The takeout container left on the table for me to clean up. The pulled-out chair. The man walking away. In that moment, I felt all the pressure in the house rushing toward me. My chest felt like it was covered with a plastic bag. Even breathing became difficult. In the study, they’d already connected their mics. “Robertson, interested in the new movie? I’ve been looking forward to that film for so long.” “I knew you’d say that. I already bought tickets. I’ll take you tomorrow.” “You’re so thoughtful!” “I just heard a coworker mention it today and immediately ordered them to surprise you.” Robertson’s thoughtless replies echoed in my ears, word by word. For Thiago, he always had time, always had heart. For me, he only had one line: “She’s a friend, you’re my wife. Can they be the same?” Robertson, if being your wife is this exhausting, I’d rather be your friend. With a bang, I kicked open the study door. Robertson spun around sharply, instinctively covering the microphone. He frowned, looking at me in confusion. “Tomorrow we’re scheduled to try on wedding dresses. Did you forget?” Sharp edges leaked through my tone. Robertson seemed to sense my mood and looked troubled. “I made plans with Thiago to see a movie tomorrow. I already bought the tickets.” “How about you go try on the dress yourself? I wouldn’t be much help anyway. Or maybe ask Catherine to go with you?” In one second, he’d figured out a compensation plan and an excuse. Accompanying his wife to try on wedding dresses wasn’t important. Accompanying his female classmate to the movies was. “No.” I refused flatly. Robertson glanced at the game on his computer screen. Thiago’s urging voice came through the headset. He was getting anxious. “Dixon, can’t I have my own things, my own plans?” “Do I have to revolve around you once we’re married?” These words almost made me laugh. When had he ever revolved around me? No messages during work hours. After work, diving straight into games. He hadn’t participated in a single wedding preparation. We still hadn’t picked out rings together… His world was full. As for who he revolved around—who knew. I looked at him with disappointment. “Robertson, is marriage just my responsibility?” Exhaustion colored my words.

“You’re being unreasonable.” After saying this, Robertson put on his headset and started the game without looking back. “Women are such a hassle.” “Thiago, when you get married, definitely don’t be this much trouble.” A casual complaint that drew bell-like laughter from the other end of the headset. Robertson and I started dating freshman year of college. At first, Robertson was attentive to me. He’d walk with me, take me to movies. He just really didn’t like chatting. But when we met in person, he was always considerate. “I don’t like chatting. Typing is a hassle. Listening to voice messages is a hassle too.” “I’m like that with everyone.” I accepted Robertson’s personality. Back then I told myself, that’s just how he is. Later, when we were together, he introduced me to Thiago and often brought me to play games with them. But I didn’t have the talent for it. After playing for a while, I dropped out. I shouldn’t have seen the dense chat history between Robertson and Thiago. Or Robertson’s comments on every single one of Thiago’s Twitter posts. He’d even message Thiago when he couldn’t sleep late at night, but he never reached out to me. That feeling was like swallowing a needle. That night, Robertson didn’t come back to the bedroom. He pulled an all-nighter gaming. The next morning I left Robertson a note: “Meet me at the bridal shop.” “I have something to discuss with you.” He could ignore WhatsApp. He could leave voice messages unread. But a note—surely he wouldn’t miss that. But I’d forgotten that some people aren’t blind in their eyes, but in their hearts. I sat on the sofa watching couple after couple come and go while my cup of hot water was refilled again and again. Until the staff came over apologetically. “Miss Dixon, we’re getting ready to close…” Their hesitant discomfort was a kind of sympathy for me. I walked home in stops and starts. On the way, I checked Thiago’s Twitter countless times. “Yay, mission accomplished!” The photo showed a movie theater screen. The hand making a peace sign in the lower left corner was Robertson’s. If moving out was my test for Robertson, then this time I truly needed to give up. At the corner downstairs, I saw familiar figures at the BBQ restaurant Robertson and I frequented. His back was to me. Thiago sat across from him, gesticulating animatedly. Until Thiago saw me. Robertson turned around. In the noisy restaurant, an indescribable atmosphere spread among the three of us. “Dixon,” Thiago pulled out a chair, letting me sit beside her. “How did the dress fitting go today?” Thiago was making conversation, trying to ease the awkwardness. Robertson’s hand holding the fork trembled slightly. Before I could speak, Robertson did. “Waiter, a mango ice cream.” I knew Robertson felt guilty. He was trying to apologize to me this way. It was hot. The ice cream was starting to melt when it arrived. “Eat it quick before it melts.” I glanced at it but didn’t move. Robertson frowned. “Don’t you love mango ice cream?” Thiago laughed. “Silly, I’m the one who loves mango ice cream!” Robertson scratched the back of his head sheepishly, looking at me apologetically. “Sorry, I got confused…” I knew he hadn’t gotten confused. He’d never remembered my preferences in the first place. Because when we were together, I always ordered. He never had to think about it. Robertson not only didn’t remember my preferences—he’d forgotten. I’m allergic to mangoes. I lowered my head and scooped up a spoonful of the ice cream.

Spoonful after spoonful, I ate the entire bowl of mango ice cream right in front of Robertson. That night, my whole body burned up and broke out in a rash. When I got up to find allergy medicine, the living room light turned on. I thought Robertson had remembered. Instead, he just walked past me into the bathroom. “Middle of the night. What are you looking for?” A bland question, spoken nasally. He didn’t even glance at me before returning to the bedroom. As for an answer, he didn’t care. Looking at the allergy medicine in my hand, I collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. In that moment, my love died completely. That night, I sent WhatsApp messages canceling all wedding-related arrangements. The next day, I was woken by Robertson’s voice. “Why did you sleep on the sofa?” “What happened to you? All these red spots?” Robertson crouched by the sofa, his eyes full of concern. After all these days, it felt like the first time we’d made eye contact. That feeling was strange yet familiar. “Damn it! I forgot—you’re allergic to mangoes!” Robertson’s guilt came out of nowhere. He called in sick and took me to the hospital. The entire time, he played the part of an extremely attentive fiancé. “Your husband treats you so well.” The nurse setting up my IV sneaked a glance at Robertson getting medicine and teased me. But watching Robertson bustle around, my heart was as calm as stagnant water. Well? If he treated me well, I wouldn’t be having an allergic reaction. I forced a smile. Three hours of IV drip. Robertson stayed with me, didn’t even touch his phone once. It rang a few times, but he didn’t look. Actually, I knew it was probably because of his work. Robertson really wouldn’t chat during work hours. He and Thiago only started messaging on weekends after work. On the drive home after the IV, Robertson seemed to remember something. “Yesterday you said you had something to discuss with me. What was it?” My hand pulling the seatbelt paused. So he knew all along. He remembered. I shook my head and fastened my seatbelt. “Nothing.” Nothing left to discuss. Robertson kept talking on the way, trying to cheer me up, but I couldn’t seem to hear a single word. “Want me to make you hot milk when we get back?” Robertson talked as he walked out of the elevator. A few steps later, he stopped. Through him, I saw Thiago crouched at our front door. “I’m so sorry, Thiago. I forgot we planned to play games today.” Thiago stood up looking wronged, rubbing her numb legs. “You didn’t even reply to my WhatsApp. So annoying.” “Are we still playing or not?” Robertson looked troubled and turned to look at me. I ignored him and walked straight past them to open the door. Robertson followed hesitantly, negotiating with me in a low voice. “Let me make you hot milk first. After you drink it, rest well. Thiago and I will play games in the study. We definitely won’t disturb you.” Thiago had followed inside too. I looked up. “Do whatever you want.” Robertson could probably tell my mood was off, and ultimately chose not to play games. He knocked lightly on the bedroom door. “I’ll take Thiago home first.” Hearing the front door close, I walked out of the room. The glass of milk on the dining table was still steaming. I sat at the table watching the time pass—one hour, two hours. Robertson never came back. Until dusk fell, the door remained still. I knew Robertson wouldn’t come back.

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After finding condoms in my husband Jacob’s passenger seat yet again, I wasn’t angry anymore. I just silently helped him put them away. Jacob gave me a complicated look and volunteered an explanation. “Check for yourself. This box hasn’t even been opened.” I said nothing, closing my eyes and pretending to sleep. Half an hour later, he pulled up in front of a store and said to me: “Let’s go buy a gift for your mom. We’ll go back to your place together for Christmas to see her.” My tears finally fell. My mom was dead. He still didn’t know. “Iman? Are you listening to me?” Jacob’s voice dropped several notes, full of oppressive force. My voice came out hoarse. “No need.” No need to go back. Never need to go back again. But he misunderstood what I meant and leaned over to look at me. “Are you mad? “Just trust me, okay? Otherwise count them yourself.” He opened the box as he spoke, dumping out all the condoms. His eyes were helpless yet indulgent, as if looking at an unreasonable child. I wiped my tears and looked over. “I’m really not mad.” Jacob leaned over and hugged me, sighing. “And you say you’re not mad. “Didn’t you always want me to go back with you? “This Christmas I finally don’t have any work obligations. “If we miss this chance, who knows when the next one will be.” His palm gently soothed my back, just like before. But I numbly pushed him away and nodded. “Okay, then let’s go.” Before my mom died, she kept talking about how Jacob was too busy with work and hadn’t been able to visit. If Jacob had time this Christmas, it would be good for him to pay his respects. After all, once we got divorced, there’d be no reason to ask him to go. But on Christmas day, Jacob didn’t come home. As if I’d expected it all along, I calmly accepted the possibility that he might miss the flight. So I took a cab to the airport by myself. It wasn’t until the plane started moving that he called me. “Sorry, something came up here that delayed me. “Can you change your ticket? How about we leave tonight instead?” I looked at the scenery retreating outside the window and swallowed my tears. “No need. I’ve already left.” I didn’t even bother asking him the reason. But Jacob volunteered an explanation. “It’s really not because of Leah this time. “A project we’d already agreed on suddenly had some problems. I thought I could make it. “Iman, don’t make a scene.” I don’t know where he heard that I was making a scene. I spoke calmly. “I know you’re busy. You can come tomorrow.” Waiting one more day didn’t matter. That’s all there was to it. Jacob breathed a sigh of relief. “Wait for me like a good girl. I’ll cook for Mom when I get there. “She always said my cooking was good. It’s probably been years since she’s had it. “This time I absolutely—” “I’m tired. I want to sleep.” I interrupted his fantasy, tears streaming down my face. I really wanted to scream it out loud. My mom can’t eat it anymore! Where were you all this time! But I was tired. I didn’t want to argue. Too many arguments. I’d argued myself into exhaustion. It was like I was a person without self-respect, shamelessly begging for his attention. As long as he came, as long as my mom could see him. It wouldn’t be for nothing that my mom had raised him all those years. It wouldn’t be for nothing that I’d brought him home back then, and for over a decade after, he’d eaten at my house every day. But I’d overestimated him after all.

Uncle Coleman saw that I’d come back alone again. His expression wasn’t good. That evening, Aunt May tentatively asked: “Did you and Jacob have a fight? “Actually, when your mom was in the hospital, she noticed something too, but didn’t bring it up because she was afraid you’d be hurt. “You should rein in your temper. With both parents gone, you only have your husband to rely on. “Having a child as soon as possible is what’s most important right now.” I listened quietly and told her Jacob would come tomorrow. I explained: “His company hasn’t been doing well these past few years. He always has work obligations. “When my mom was in the hospital, he wanted to come too. Don’t worry, we’re fine.” I didn’t want the family to know I was planning to divorce. I was too lazy to deal with their attempts at reconciliation. But I didn’t expect Jacob to break his promise again. In the morning, he told me he was on his way to the airport. May had prepared abundant ingredients early in the morning. “It’s good he’s coming. He didn’t even show up at your mom’s funeral. The whole village thought you’d been abandoned. “Now he can shut them up. “You should come back more often too. Come sit with us at home.” May bustled about in the kitchen, chattering as she worked. But after making a whole table full of dishes, Jacob didn’t answer any of my calls. “Let’s eat first.” I forced down my emotions and spoke, looking at them apologetically. May and Coleman exchanged glances and both nodded. “Okay, okay, let’s eat first then.” “I’ll have your cousins come over too. We can’t finish all this food ourselves anyway.” “They can go up the mountain with you afterward.” May spoke while busily preparing the tableware. Food left on the table for half an hour in winter had long since lost its warmth. I forced back my tears, smiling with difficulty. Coleman suddenly sat down next to me and ruffled my hair. “You’ve always had your own mind since you were little. Do whatever you want to do. “If your dad were here, he wouldn’t bear to see you suffer like this. “This is always your home. You still have family here. Don’t listen to May. People need to live freely.” I smiled at Coleman and got up to go to the bathroom. I only came out after crying. Coleman and May were in the kitchen reheating the food when my phone rang. It was Jacob calling. “Leah’s in the hospital, in surgery. “It’s a matter of life and death. I can’t just ignore her. “Iman, tomorrow. I’ll come get you tomorrow. “And I’ll bring Mom back to stay for a few days too.” I numbly listened to his words, emotions churning in my chest. I didn’t want to get angry. My mom always said: “Iman, don’t always lose your temper. It’s not worth it. “Let’s just live our lives peacefully. “Turn a blind eye, and decades will pass. “Look at me—I had so many complaints about your dad before, but after he died, I only remember the good things.” But Jacob was really bullying me too much! “You don’t need to come anymore. When I get back, I need to talk to you about something.” I said coldly and hung up. When Jacob called again, I declined it. His messages came through to my phone instead. [Don’t be unreasonable. Just wait for me.] [If there was anyone else who could help, she wouldn’t have called me.] [About last time, she wanted to apologize to you, but I didn’t let her.] [Iman, you know your own temper. I was afraid you’d hit her again.] [Can’t we just live our own lives well? Why throw a tantrum over small things?] […] He sent many messages. I skimmed through a few. By then my cousins had returned. I turned off my phone and ignored Jacob. The meal was eaten with everyone lost in their own thoughts. When we went to my mom’s grave, my cousins waited for me at a distance. I sat on the ground, looking at the person in the photo. Tears fell as I looked. I had so much to say, but couldn’t speak. Only when leaving did I tell her: “I’m sorry. I lost the son-in-law you liked so much. You won’t blame me, will you?” Just then the wind rose, as if fingers gently brushing across my face. I held back my tears and left down the mountain without looking back.

The next day I boarded a plane back to Los Angeles. On the plane, the divorce agreement the lawyer I’d hired had drafted also arrived on my phone. I looked it over carefully and had them revise a few small details. I didn’t want his company. I had other plans. But I wanted all the cash and properties in our names. The value was also in the eight figures. What I didn’t expect was running into Jacob at the airport. We stared at each other. Standing beside him was Leah, who’d supposedly been in surgery just yesterday. Apparently it wasn’t a life-or-death surgery after all. After all, she could get out of bed the next day, even wearing beautiful makeup. Leah’s eyes were red with anxiety as she rushed to speak. “Don’t blame him. I’m the one who rushed him to come find you, aren’t I? “Of course I know wives are more important than friends. “When I called him, I thought he didn’t have plans for the holiday and could help out. “I didn’t expect him to hide the fact that he was going to your place because he was worried about me. I’m really sorry. “You won’t blame him, will you?” Jacob snapped out of it and instinctively moved Leah behind him. I’d hit Leah before. Since then, he’d never let me have direct contact with her. At this moment, Jacob spoke in a heavy voice. “This is my fault. Don’t take it out on her.” The scene before me made me think of the phrase “mutual devotion.” I nodded and looked at Leah. “Since you’re here too, why don’t you come sit at our place?” She looked completely shocked. Jacob’s brow furrowed. I looked at Jacob teasingly. “Didn’t you say there’s nothing between you two? “If you’re just friends, you don’t even dare bring her home?” I walked ahead. Jacob followed behind with Leah. “Don’t talk with so much hostility. It sounds terrible. “She’s just a young, innocent woman. After you scared her last time, how would she dare come to our house?” I stopped and looked past him at Leah. Our eyes met. Leah suddenly smiled, a hint of provocation in her eyes. “Since Iman invited me, of course I’ll go.” I looked at Jacob again. “Be a man. That bitch is braver than you.” As soon as we got home, I went to the study. I printed out the divorce agreement, bound it, and went to the living room to hand it to Jacob. “Take a look. If there are no problems, sign it. “You can take your things and leave with her today. “The company had my mom’s initial investment of two hundred thousand. I don’t want it. “But all marital assets and properties are mine. Except for the company, give me everything else.” I finished in one breath. Jacob’s expression went from shock to anger. “What the hell is wrong with you? “Does your mom know about this? “You went through all this trouble just to say this? Even tantrums have limits.” I lowered my eyes and spoke flatly. “I’ve already informed her. “What mother doesn’t want her child to be happy? “She was good to you because she wanted you to be good to me. No matter how much she liked you, how could she value you over her own child? “So you don’t need to worry about what she thinks.” At this point, I glanced at Leah. Her smile couldn’t be suppressed. She looked at Jacob with determined confidence. I smiled and continued speaking to Jacob. “Now that things between us have come to this, you don’t think my mom would still be nice to you, do you?” Jacob grew angrier. “What did you tell her? “How many times do I have to say it? Nothing happened between Leah and me!” I threw the divorce agreement in his face and spoke flatly. “Does something only count as happening if you’ve slept together? “Who did you adjust the passenger seat for? “Our wedding anniversary, my birthday, my mom’s birthday… “Which special occasion this year didn’t you spend with her? “Did all her relatives and friends die? “Does she need you, an irrelevant married man, to accompany her for a minor surgery? “Jacob, we’re all smart people. Don’t treat people like fools, okay?” My tone started out calm, but by the end my voice was trembling. But Jacob said coldly, repeating, “I will not divorce you!” He added, “If we divorce, your mom will be heartbroken!” I instinctively shouted: “My mom is dead! How could she be heartbroken?”

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At the school tennis tournament, when my girlfriend Victoria found out my racket cost a hundred thousand dollars, she went ballistic. “A hundred thousand? Just for this piece of junk racket? Are you insane! You’re a complete spendthrift.” She pulled over Killian, a student on financial aid: “His monthly living expenses are less than five hundred dollars. Wouldn’t it be better to help him out instead?” I frowned. “It’s my money. I can spend it however I want. Why should I subsidize him? Just because he’s poor? There are tons of poor people in the world.” Seeing I showed no remorse, Victoria flew into a rage and demanded I hand over all my bank cards. “I’m going to marry you eventually anyway. From now on, I’ll manage all your family’s money. Starting today, you need to submit a request and get my approval before spending anything.” I fell silent, looking at her like she was a stranger, then turned to call my grandfather Johnson to cancel our engagement. Since she sympathized so much with Killian, I’d help them both out!

“Are you serious?” Johnson asked me. “Yeah.” “Why?” “No particular reason. I just don’t like her anymore.” Johnson was silent for a moment on the other end, then said: “Alright, let’s find a time for both families to have dinner together and discuss calling off the engagement.” I agreed and picked up my racket to take the court. After the match ended, I won the men’s singles championship, and thanks to my stellar performance, our class also won the team competition. I became the hero. Many classmates started clamoring to celebrate at a bar. “You guys go ahead. Killian isn’t feeling well today, so I’ll stay with him.” Victoria’s words plunged the atmosphere to freezing point. Everyone looked at me, including the teacher. Because they all knew Victoria and I had grown up together and were engaged. I looked at Victoria, my eyes stinging. Twenty years. She’d left an indelible mark on my heart, but in hers, I apparently didn’t even measure up to Killian, whom she’d only known for a few months. “Victoria, the mood’s so good, don’t be a buzzkill,” a classmate urged her. “Besides, tonight is to celebrate Leopold, so it wouldn’t be right if you didn’t go.” Killian also said: “Victoria, you should go. I’ll be fine on my own.” After speaking, he covered his mouth and coughed twice. Victoria immediately looked anxious, reaching out to pat Killian’s back, her tone reproachful: “You say you’re fine, but how can I feel at ease when you’re like this?” Seeing my expression darken, the surrounding classmates quickly laughed: “Victoria is too kind-hearted, worried about leaving sick Killian alone.” “Yeah, yeah, having such a kind classmate is our blessing.” Kind-hearted? In that moment, my heart ached! Just because of kindness, she could give away my clothes, shoes, watch, even my money to Killian without my permission? Did she even know I was her fiancé with whom she had an engagement? Or did she know but just not care? “Why aren’t you guys leaving yet? Whatever, I can’t be bothered with you. I’m taking Killian to the hospital.” Victoria helped Killian leave, then turned back after two steps and said to me: “Oh right, I almost forgot to mention—you only won the championship because that hundred-thousand-dollar racket gave you an unfair advantage. Your actual skill level is just so-so.” Hearing this, I laughed and nodded: “You’re absolutely right!” Childhood sweethearts for twenty years, but we’d never reach a happy ending. “That’s too much. How could she say that?” My roommate felt indignant on my behalf. “Yeah, Leopold prepared for months for this tournament, leaving at four in the morning every day and not coming back until ten at night.”

“I’m going to make her apologize to you.” I stopped my roommate who was about to chase after them, smiling: “Forget it.” There’s a saying: people who don’t love you can’t see your efforts. Since that was the case, why should I care? “Let’s go. Today’s on me!” The atmosphere at the bar was lively. Because Killian wasn’t there. During previous class group activities, no one had looked down on him for being on financial aid. They’d take him everywhere, but he always said inappropriate things. “Fifty dollars for one drink? That’s so expensive. You guys are really rich.” “I’m not rich like you guys to buy gifts, so I can only give verbal blessings. Happy birthday.” “My family is poor. I really envy how you guys just throw away torn clothes.” He always disguised himself as the victim, as if we were flaunting our wealth in front of him. Whenever this happened, Victoria would always step forward to defend him. “What are you thinking about? You’re today’s star. Why don’t you sing a song for everyone?” My roommate nudged me with his elbow, then stood up and pulled me along, asking the bar’s band to play “At Last” for us. This used to be my favorite song, but not anymore. “Change it to ‘She’s Gone,’” I said, starting to walk toward the stage. My roommate paused, then silently changed the song. As soon as the intro started, Victoria walked in with Killian. Victoria acted like she didn’t notice anything, saying on her own: “Killian persuaded me. I thought about it and he was right—I should come. Plus, I think it’s necessary to let you all see him completely transformed.” Victoria smiled broadly: “So? Isn’t he handsome?” The room fell silent. I looked at Killian wearing my clothes, pants, and shoes, and was the first to applaud: “He really is handsome!” “At least you have good taste!” Victoria was satisfied with my response. “Actually, Killian is very handsome. He just didn’t have money to dress up before. Now you can see he’s just as good as any of you.” I smiled. Handsome? Wearing my clothes, pants, and shoes that clearly didn’t even fit him properly. Victoria looked Killian up and down, tapping her chin: “Seems like something’s still missing.” She turned to look at me: “Leopold, take off your watch and give it to Killian.” I froze, looking down at the watch on my wrist. It was the first birthday gift Victoria had ever given me. It held special meaning for me. Though it was already many years old, I’d always carefully maintained it. I’d even treated it as a token of love between Victoria and me. Now, she was asking me to give it away with my own hands. I was silent for a long time before speaking in a hoarse voice: “Are you sure?” “What’s there to be unsure about? It’s just a watch. It’s not like you can’t afford a new one.” Victoria said indifferently, then personally came over to remove the watch and put it on Killian’s wrist herself. In that moment, I saw Killian smile at me, his eyes full of smugness and provocation. “Leopold, you’ve finally become sensible.” Victoria was pleased that I didn’t make a fuss after giving away the watch. She happily pulled Killian along to sing. I watched the two of them singing a love duet, sitting expressionlessly on the sofa. I hadn’t become sensible—I was learning not to care. When the party ended, Victoria was drunk, leaning drunkenly against Killian and insisting he take her back to her dorm. Killian looked at me with feigned helplessness on his face, but his eyes were clearly triumphant.

I didn’t care: “Since she wants you to take her, then take her.” With that, I walked out of the private room, my eyes already red. The next day, Victoria’s roommate found me: “Leopold, Victoria didn’t come back to the dorm last night. Did she call you?” I immediately fell silent. Victoria’s roommate seemed to realize she’d said something wrong and hurriedly made an excuse to leave. I walked alone to the field, wandering aimlessly on the track, thinking about all the moments with Victoria. Childhood sweethearts, growing up together—my world was full of her. From kindergarten through college, I’d always protected her, never letting her get hurt. In elementary school, when an older student made her cry, I’d pulled her along with red eyes to find the person and demand an apology, not hesitating to get physical. In the end, she got her apology, and though I ended up bruised and swollen, I smiled happily. On her eighteenth birthday, I bought all the fireworks in the city and the front page of every newspaper that day to celebrate for her. That night, both families confirmed our engagement. I was so happy I didn’t sleep all night. I thought we could continue like this together, companions for life, growing old together. But everything changed after meeting Killian. She no longer acted cute with me—instead, there were mostly rebukes and yelling. I endured and endured, for no other reason than because I loved her. But did she love me? Before yesterday, I’d been certain of the answer—she loved me too. But today, I realized I was wrong. She didn’t love me that much. But I didn’t understand—could twenty years of feelings really be less than a few months? I couldn’t find an answer to this question. I don’t know how long passed before I heard someone calling me. It was Victoria, and unsurprisingly, Killian stood beside her. I walked over and looked at Victoria’s beautiful face, my heart aching sharply. The facts were right in front of me. No need to guess anymore. Victoria looked at me guiltily and explained: “Last night, Killian fell and hurt his back on the way taking me home. I stayed with him at the hospital all night.” “Yeah, it hurt so much,” Killian said, rubbing his back. “Even now my back is still sore and aching.” I watched him quietly perform. Hurt his back? What a coincidence. Did he really fall? Or was it because he exerted himself too much? But the answer didn’t matter anymore. I nodded: “Mm.” I turned to leave, but Victoria grabbed me: “Don’t you believe me?” “No, I’m just tired.” I calmly pried Victoria’s hand away. She threw herself at me, hugging me. “Alright, stop being angry. I just forgot last night and didn’t let you know I was safe. I promise you, there absolutely won’t be a next time.” Indeed, there wouldn’t be a next time. I pushed Victoria away and said flatly: “Was there something else?” Killian smiled: “Actually, I have something. Thank you for giving me the watch last night. I really like it.” “But my family is poor, so I can’t give you an expensive gift in return. I saw the mangoes at the supermarket looked good, so I specially picked some to give you. Please don’t look down on them.” Looking at the bag of mangoes Killian held out to me, I saw them like a terrible flood, and kicked the bag over. “Leopold, what are you doing? Killian specially bought these mangoes for you, you…” Victoria angrily berated me, but when she saw my cold eyes, she couldn’t help stepping back twice, swallowing the words at her lips. “Did you forget I’m allergic to mangoes?” Hearing this, Victoria’s expression changed, but seeing Killian standing helplessly to the side looking like he’d done something wrong, her eyes flashed with sympathy and she frowned at me. “Even if you’re allergic to mangoes, just don’t eat them. Why kick them over and disappoint Killian’s thoughtfulness?”

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My son George practiced magic for two months just to perform on stage with his dad for Children’s Day. I stayed up three nights sewing matching capes for the father-son duo. In the pocket of the larger cape, my son secretly tucked a lollipop, saying it was a reward for Dad. Two hours before the performance, Mason said his first love’s daughter also had a show at her kindergarten, and no one was going. I told him his son had been waiting for two months. He was already grabbing his car keys. “I’ll just take a quick look and come right back. Tell him I went to the bathroom.” I asked what if he didn’t come back. He paused for a moment. “You’ll be there, won’t you?” When the curtain rose, the large cape was neatly draped over an empty chair, the lollipop still in the pocket. My son stood alone under the spotlight and said, “My magic trick is called—The Disappearing Dad.” Not a single person in the audience could laugh. On the way home, my son finished that lollipop himself and asked me, “Mom, if I disappear too, then Dad won’t have to choose anymore, right?” I held his hand and said with a smile, “Mom will perform a big magic trick with you.”

On the way home from kindergarten, George was very quiet. He didn’t shed a single tear the entire time, didn’t even complain once. He just clutched the plastic stick from the half-eaten lollipop. As soon as we got through the door, the doorbell rang urgently. Mason’s driver, Alan, stood outside panting, holding a huge cardboard box. “Miss Annie, Mr. Mason asked me to deliver this.” Alan wiped the sweat from his forehead and carefully set the box down. “Mr. Mason called me several times on the road urging me to buy this Ultraman Lego set. He said he left in a hurry and was afraid George would be upset, so he wanted me to hand it to George personally.” “Mr. Mason also said on the phone to stop by that dessert shop you always go to, Miss Annie, and buy a taro roll, but the shop was closed today.” I looked down at George. George didn’t even lift his eyelids. He simply walked around the box blocking his way, carrying his little backpack, and went straight to his room. Click—the door closed. Alan awkwardly rubbed his hands. “Miss Annie, this…” “Just leave it. Thanks for your trouble.” I calmly closed the door. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Mason on SnapChat. “Daisy was crying so hard backstage she could barely breathe. The situation isn’t good. I need to stay and comfort her. Explain to George for me. Did he get the Lego?” I didn’t reply. Right then, a new notification popped up—a post from Mia. The photo showed a man’s upright figure from behind, bending down to hold a little girl in a princess dress. The caption read: Thank you for saving a lonely little girl’s Children’s Day. That silhouette—I’d been looking at it for ten years. Staring at the glaring image and text on my phone screen, all I felt was deep exhaustion. I calmly walked to my desk, pulled open the bottom drawer, and took out a divorce agreement I’d drafted long ago. Turning to the last page, I picked up a pen and steadily signed my name in the wife’s section—Annie Brown. Then I walked to the calendar on the wall. In the box two days away, marked with a smiley face and the words “Family Photo,” I picked up a black marker and drew a pitch-black circle over it. Late at night, the living room lights were off. I sat on the sofa with scissors, the red cape I’d spent countless sleepless nights sewing draped across my lap. Blood from needle pricks had stained the lining—all to create the perfect father-son performance. The scissors mercilessly tore through the fabric. Golden tassels fell in two pieces onto the carpet. I cut and cut, mechanically, until the cape that held months of my son’s anticipation became a pile of scraps. I swept them all into the trash. At two in the morning, the sound of the password lock came from the door. Mason pushed open the door, smelling faintly of alcohol, exhaustion written all over his face. He casually loosened his tie and was about to change shoes when his movements suddenly stopped. In the moonlight, he stared down at the trash bin by his feet. Inside, the shredded red cape lay quietly. “Annie, what are you throwing a fit about now?” Mason frowned deeply, strode over to me, and looked down at me sitting on the sofa, irritation in his voice. “Didn’t I have Alan deliver the Lego? You spent so long sewing that cape…” He suddenly paused, his gaze sweeping over the red scraps in the trash, his tone turning cold and hard. “But did you really have to do this?”

I sat in the darkness, staring coldly at him. “Mason, two years ago when George was four, you canceled a pre-meeting for a merger contract just to teach him a card trick.” “You said then that childhood only happens once, and if you miss it, you can never get it back.” “Now he’s practiced for two months just so you’d sit in the audience for half an hour, and you think it doesn’t matter?” Mason’s breath caught. He tugged at his tie again. “That was because of an emergency! Daisy doesn’t have a father. She was hiding in a corner crying alone, and Mia was beside herself with worry. What was I supposed to do, ignore them?” As he spoke, he walked over and reached out to put his arm around my waist, trying to pull me into his embrace. “Come on, be good.” He lowered his voice coaxingly. “I came back, didn’t I?” The moment he touched me, nausea rose in my stomach. I turned my head away in disgust and forcefully pushed his hand away. Mason’s hand froze in midair. He snorted in displeasure and muttered something about me being unreasonable. He turned to grab his suit jacket from the sofa, preparing to take a shower. Just then—thud. A small box fell from his jacket pocket and rolled to my feet. It was a bottle of men’s cologne with sweet notes. Mason stopped. He immediately came over and picked up the cologne. “Mia insisted on giving this to me to thank me for helping today. I wasn’t planning to keep it.” “Does it feel good playing the man of someone else’s house?” I looked at him with a mocking, cold laugh. That sentence hit Mason’s sore spot precisely. His expression changed. He stepped forward and grabbed my wrist. His five fingers gripped tightly. I could feel the slightly hot temperature of his palm. “Annie, can’t you understand me? That child doesn’t even have a father. I just helped out once. George has you—what do I have to worry about?” He paused, sighing with a trace of exhaustion. “You’re my wife. You’re the one I trust. As long as you’re there, I can rest easy.” I looked at his face. Pain shot through my wrist, but my heart had gone numb. I didn’t struggle. I just looked at him with the dead, desolate eyes one gives a stranger. Mason met my gaze and suddenly froze. He immediately released my hand and, right in front of me, threw the cologne bottle into the trash. “I don’t want her stuff!” He said in a panic, “I only use the woody cologne you buy me. Is that okay now?!” With that, he turned and fled into the bathroom. The next morning, I took George to the photography studio in the city center. “Hello, I’d like to cancel this weekend’s sixth birthday family photo package.” I handed the receipt to the receptionist. George pressed against the studio’s display window, staring at the Ultraman-themed family portrait poster. He’d saved half a year’s allowance and stubbornly insisted the whole family take this photo together. He looked at it for a long time but said nothing. Just as we left the studio, my phone rang. It was Mason. His tone was unusually hesitant. “Annie, this weekend the company has an urgent acquisition. I… I have to go on a business trip.” I held the phone, listening to Mason’s guilty voice through the receiver, feeling utterly absurd. Rewind half an hour. I’d just come out of the bathroom. Passing by the study, I heard voices inside. Mason’s phone was on speaker. Mia’s crying voice was especially clear in the quiet room.

“Mason, Daisy’s private elementary school interview is this weekend. The school requires both parents to attend, or she’ll be disqualified…” “I’m begging you, please pretend to be my husband for half a day, okay? Just half a day! I’m getting on my knees! If you’re not there, Daisy’s whole life will be ruined!” Mason was silent for a long time, then said in a low voice, “Send me the address.” This was his so-called unavoidable business trip excuse. “Annie, are you listening?” On the other end of the line, Mason asked again when I didn’t respond. “I heard you.” My tone was strangely calm. Mason seemed relieved. Then my phone dinged—a transfer of two hundred thousand dollars. “Honey, take George to buy the most expensive birthday present. Consider it my way of making it up to him. Wait for me to come back.” He hung up. Looking at the string of numbers on my screen, I pulled at the corner of my mouth. That weekend, on George’s sixth birthday. I took him to the mall, wanting to buy him a children’s watch he’d been eyeing for a while. Coming out of the mall, right across the street was the city’s private elementary school. George had been looking down, fiddling with the toy in his hands, when suddenly his movements stopped. He looked up, staring blankly across the street. A black Bentley was parked at the school gate. Mason stepped out of the car in a suit and tie. He took the hand of a little girl in a pink dress. On the other side of the girl stood Mia, beaming. A happy family of three. Just then, Mia tried to loop her arm through Mason’s. Mason coldly avoided her. I could even see his lips move slightly, as if warning her about something. But this self-righteous claim of innocence looked utterly ridiculous in this moment. Shortly after, my phone buzzed. Mia had posted on Ins, tagged at this very private school. —Thank you for being here. You’re our eternal support, mother and daughter. I turned to look at George. Through the traffic, George watched with his own eyes as his father, who was supposed to be on a business trip, played father to someone else. He had no dramatic reaction. He simply walked over and silently threw the toy he’d just bought into a nearby trash can. After we got home, George took out his calendar with the countdown from his backpack and picked up a black crayon, flipping to the birthday page. Originally, that square had a smiley face and stick figures of a family of three. George gripped the pen and forcefully colored that square pitch black. The black ink bled through to the back of the page. “George…” My eyes stung. I crouched down, wanting to hug him. George looked up. Those clear eyes were now filled with darkness. “Mom, I’m never celebrating my birthday again.” I silently picked up my phone and called an overseas immigration agency I’d contacted before. That evening at eight, Mason came home early. He pushed open the door to find the house dark, the table completely bare. His gaze swept over where the birthday cake should have been, his expression faltering. He flipped on the living room light with a click, looking at me sitting on the sofa. “Annie, it’s George’s birthday today and you didn’t even buy him a cake?” He said in a low voice, “If you want to get mad, take it out on me. Is it appropriate to use a child’s birthday to make a point?” Mason pulled at his tie and strode up to me. His gaze swept over the empty dining table, his eyes unconsciously evasive. “I know I shouldn’t have missed today, but the sudden business trip was out of my hands.”

“Things are what they are. Annie, can’t you put in a good word for me with George?” I didn’t get up. I simply picked up the blacked-out calendar from the table and threw it at his feet. “It’s your son who doesn’t want to celebrate anymore.” Mason looked down at the black scribbles, his brow twitching. “Next month… next month when the company isn’t busy, I’ll cancel everything and personally take him to the amusement park.” His gaze avoided mine, fixed on the tightly closed bedroom door, his voice unconsciously dropping. “I owe him this time.” Just then, George’s voice came through the crack of the closed bedroom door. “Uncle Mason, I don’t want to go.” “Uncle Mason?” He repeated those two words quietly, his voice suddenly soft. The living room was so quiet you could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Then he slowly lifted his eyes to look at me, fury churning in their depths. “Annie, who taught him to say that?” He strode toward the bedroom and grabbed the doorknob, about to barge in. “Stop!” I lunged over to block him, pressing myself firmly against the door. Through the door, I suddenly heard George’s heavy, rapid breathing. I pushed the door open and rushed in, reaching for George’s forehead—his skin was abnormally hot. I grabbed the thermometer—103.6 degrees! “George has a high fever!” I turned frantically toward Mason. “Quick, get the fever medicine!” Mason paused, about to get it when his phone suddenly rang, Mia’s name flashing on the screen. He answered. Immediately, Mia’s crying came through. “Mason! Come quick! Daisy got so upset from not doing well at today’s interview that she’s burning up, and she’s locked herself in her room with scissors and won’t let anyone in!” Mia sobbed breathlessly. “I don’t dare upset her. She’s allergic to regular fever medicine! I remember you said the imported fever reducer George takes works really well. Please bring a box and save her! If we wait, she could die!” Mason’s face changed. He listened to the crying on the phone, then glanced at me with my back to him. “Mason, the medicine is at the bottom of the medicine cabinet. Hurry!” My voice trembled with urgency. Mason pushed past my hand and strode to the bedside, pressing the back of his hand to George’s forehead and frowning. He looked at the child’s flushed face, then turned toward the medicine cabinet. “Annie, listen to me—George just has a regular fever. Some fever medicine and a night’s sleep and he’ll be fine. Over there, Daisy has scissors in her hand—someone could actually die. I’ll handle it and come right back. You watch him.” He strode to the medicine cabinet and pulled open the drawer. What he did next made my blood run cold—he actually took out the only remaining box of George’s usual fever medicine and stuffed it into his pocket. “What are you doing?!” I rushed over to grab it. “That’s George’s medicine!” “Daisy’s allergic to regular fever reducers, and she’s holding scissors. Annie, let me finish.” His voice was low and rushed. “I’ll take this box. You go downstairs to the pharmacy right now and buy regular medicine for George. He’s strong, he can handle it.” He turned sideways to avoid my reaching hand and hurried toward the door. “Annie, the pharmacy downstairs is a ten-minute walk. Go buy some now. I’ll come right back after I handle this.” I lunged forward and grabbed his arm, refusing to let go. He yanked hard. I stumbled and crashed into the hard edge of the table. Bang—I fell to the floor, my elbow scraped open, blood welling up. Mason turned back. His steps paused for two seconds. His lips moved. “Take care of that wound first.” “Half an hour. I’ll be back in half an hour.” With that, he turned and walked out, slamming the door shut. The moment the door closed, my phone showed a message—Mason had sent a pharmacy location with a note: This one’s open 24 hours, close to home. From the bedroom came a sudden gasp. Then George’s eyes rolled back, his body convulsing, guttural sounds coming from his throat. Febrile seizure! “George—!” I screamed, crawled over and scooped up my convulsing son, and ran out into the rainy night. Rain poured down. Lightning lit up the darkness. Harsh white light hit my face. I was soaked through. George’s vomit mixed with the blood flowing from my elbow, soaking through my clothes. “Family member! The patient has acute febrile seizure leading to respiratory failure. Critical condition. Sign the critical illness notice immediately!” A doctor rushed out with a form, speaking rapidly. “We need both parents’ signatures. Where’s the father?!” I took the pen with trembling hands. Rainwater mixed with blood blurred the paper. “He’s dead.” I said through gritted teeth, word by word, and signed only my name on the form. During the long wait outside the emergency room, I used the nurses’ station landline to call Mason thirty times. The first three were instantly rejected. From the fourth on, I heard the automated message: The number you have dialed is powered off. At four in the morning, the emergency room door finally opened. “We brought him back, but he needs to stay in ICU for observation.” The doctor said wearily. Through the glass, I watched George’s small body covered in tubes. He weakly opened his eyes and lifted the hand with the IV catheter, laboriously tapping the screen of his children’s watch in small movements. When the screen lit up, he found the number labeled Superman Dad and pressed delete. I knew clearly that George no longer needed the role of father. In the morning, George’s condition stabilized and he was moved to a regular ward. I sat by the hospital bed, took out my phone, and called my lawyer, then contacted the overseas agency. “Yes, liquidate all funds and stocks under my name. Give full authority to sell the two properties at bottom price. Transfer the proceeds directly to my overseas account.” After handling this, I pulled out the inner compartment of my bag. The European visa I’d gotten to celebrate George’s sixth birthday would come in handy after all. I booked tickets to Venice for this weekend, looked at the sky outside the window, and let out a deep breath. The next evening, I brought George home for one last visit. The house was still in the same disarray as the night Mason left. I didn’t touch anything that belonged to him. I packed my clothes into a suitcase, then added George’s documents. Before leaving, I walked to the table. I placed the signed divorce agreement neatly in the center. Next to the agreement, I set down the candy wrapper left from the Children’s Day magic show. “Mom, where are we going?” George held my hand and looked up to ask. “Mom’s going to perform a big magic trick with you.”

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