Category: English

1 At the annual medical gala, Austin, a prominent celebrity surgeon, was asked a poignant question about his years of saving lives: was there anyone he regretted failing to save? He shook his head, then slowly nodded. “None on the operating table,” he said, his voice dropping. “But indirectly? I took a life.” The crowd fell silent as he continued, “Five years ago, my college roommate got a full-ride scholarship to study in London. He asked me to look after his girlfriend while he was away. The problem was, the moment I saw her, I fell helplessly in love.” “She rejected me at every turn. In a fit of jealousy, I Photoshopped a highly intimate picture of her and me. I showed it to him, lying through my teeth that she had slept with me for my money.” A collective gasp rippled through the auditorium. Someone in the crowd called out, “What happened next?” Austin’s eyes welled with tears. “He believed me. He broke up with her right then and there. She boarded the very next flight to go find him and explain. That plane crashed into the ocean. She died.” The day that interview clip went viral on social media, the roommate he spoke of, Jude, was boarding a flight with his fiancée, Peyton. They were flying home to get married. … In the quiet cabin of the flight back home, Jude gently pulled a wool blanket over Peyton’s legs. She smiled, offering a playful, slightly teasing pout. “So attentive, babe. Did you use to tuck your ex in on flights like this too?” Jude caught her nose in a brief, affectionate pinch, his expression softening with amusement. “Never.” “Back when I was with her, we were so broke we had to split a single five-dollar takeout box. We had to watch the timer on rental bikes just to save a buck. Flying was a luxury we couldn’t even dream of.” His smile faded, replaced by a cold, bitter edge. “Maybe if I’d had the money to buy her a plane ticket back then, she wouldn’t have sold me out.” Jude’s resentment ran deep, deeper even than mine, and I was the ghost who had been trailing silently behind him for five long years. He had every right to feel that way. His own family had been torn apart when his father walked out after an affair. Cheating was the one thing Jude loathed above all else. Worse still, when Jude had received that graphic, intimate photo of me, he had been in the middle of a crucial university laboratory experiment. The sudden shock had shattered his focus. He had dropped a highly reactive chemical flask, triggering an explosion and fire that swept through the lab. A falling ceiling beam had crushed his leg, leaving him with a permanent limp and a million-dollar debt to the school. If Peyton, his junior at the university, hadn’t stayed by his side through his long rehabilitation and pulled him out of that dark abyss, Jude’s life would have been entirely ruined. Ruined by that photo. Ruined by me. His hatred was entirely justified. I didn’t blame him. Perhaps remembering those grim days, Peyton’s eyes grew misty with sympathy. “That gold-digging Ruby got exactly what she deserved. Karma always finds people like her.” Jude offered a quiet, reassuring smile, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Forget it. Karma or not, it’s in the past. We go back a long way, after all. We should at least invite her to our wedding.” Peyton blinked in surprise, then nodded quickly. “Absolutely, we have to! When she sees that you’re wealthier now than the rich kid who stole her away, she’ll be green with regret.” “Will she?” Jude murmured, his voice barely audible. The flight attendant’s voice over the intercom drowned out whatever else he said, but for the rest of the journey, Jude seemed lighter, almost happy. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to see me drown in regret. Back then, when he first woke up in the hospital after the fire, the very first thing he did was dial my number over and over, sending text after text to a phone that was already dead. First, he demanded an explanation. Then, his pride crumbled. He text me saying that if I came back, he would forgive the betrayal and pretend none of it ever happened. He begged me to give him time, promising he would eventually make more money than Austin ever could. He waited from dawn until dusk, staring at a screen that never lit up. When Jude and Peyton finally landed, the award ceremony video had already been trending online for twenty-four hours. Around the baggage claim, travelers were quietly debating the ethics of the scandal. “I can’t believe Dr. Austin was such a scumbag in college. That’s honestly sick.” “It was probably just a stupid joke. He didn’t mean for anyone to actually die.” “Honestly, the boyfriend is the real villain here. He dumped her over a single rumor. He probably met someone else in London and used Austin’s lie as an easy exit.” Hearing Austin’s name floating through the crowded terminal, Jude froze. Peyton looked at him, concerned. “Jude? What’s wrong?” A look of pure disgust crossed Jude’s face, his knuckles turning white against the handle of his suitcase. “Nothing. Just heard a piece of trash’s name. It makes me sick.” He was right. Austin was trash. The very day Jude had left for London, Austin had cornered me to confess his feelings. When I rejected him, he started showering me with expensive gifts. I hadn’t dared to tell Jude because I didn’t want him to worry while he was half a world away, so I simply did my best to avoid Austin entirely. I never expected my silence to drive Austin to such malice. Staggering under the weight of those memories, I shook my head to clear the thoughts. By the time I focused again, I was floating behind Jude and Peyton as they entered their new apartment. Jude had always been an incredibly attentive partner. When we were together, even on our cheap weekend trips, he would meticulously plan every detail to give me the best experience possible on a shoestring budget. He was no different with Peyton. Before returning from London, he had hired a top-tier design team to renovate their new home, tailoring every corner to Peyton’s taste. Soft beige walls, warm chestnut floors. But when Peyton noticed the sheer pink curtains fluttering gently in the breeze, she raised an eyebrow with a playful grin. “Jude, you actually made a mistake! Since when do I like pink?” Jude frowned, instinctively defending himself. “But you told me you wanted pink curtains…” He cut himself off, his face suddenly draining of color. He gently pushed Peyton back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Sorry. I got it wrong. I’ll have them replaced immediately.” It was as if the color itself disgusted him. Unable to wait for a decorator, Jude ripped the curtains from the rod with sudden, violent force and stuffed them into the trash chute in the hallway. I drifted out after him, staring silently at the empty chute. Ghosts have no tears, yet my eyes burned with a dry, heavy ache. Years ago, when Jude and I were crammed into a windowless, five-hundred-square-foot basement studio, I used to curl up against his chest and whisper: “Jude, when we make it, we’re going to buy a place with massive windows, and we’ll hang pink curtains to let the sunlight through.” He had remembered. He bought the apartment with the beautiful windows, but because the girl beside him had changed, the pink curtains had to go. I drifted back into the living room just as the two of them were grabbing their coats to head out. “Jude, do you think Ruby will show up at the college reunion tonight?” Peyton asked. My heart tightened. After leaving the country, Jude had cut all ties with our old classmates. He had no idea I was dead. But going to this reunion meant he would find out the truth. Would he be sad? Jude’s voice broke through my thoughts, cold and indifferent. “If she shows up, she shows up. It’s the perfect chance to hand her our wedding invitation.” His face remained expressionless, but the pinky finger on his left hand was trembling. He was lying. Back in college, when he secretly sold blood to buy me a winter coat and lied about winning a student grant, his pinky had trembled exactly like this. He cared. He was terrified of seeing me, or perhaps, of not seeing me. On the drive to the venue, Jude was unusually silent. No matter how excitedly Peyton talked about showing off their relationship to me and Austin, Jude only offered distant, polite nods. His grip on the steering wheel grew tighter with every block. At every red light, he checked the class group chat on his phone. As notifications rolled in from people arriving at the restaurant, his jaw clenched. In his distraction, his thumb brushed against my old, inactive profile picture. For a second, both Jude and I seemed to hold our breath. “Jude, the light is green,” Peyton reminded him. Jude jolted, tossing the phone into the cup holder as if it had burned him. “Right.” They arrived at the restaurant. The moment Jude parked, several of our old classmates waiting outside walked over to greet them. “Jude! Man, it’s been ages.” “Hey, I saw you active in the group chat earlier, tapping Ruby’s icon. You’ve been off the grid for so long, do you seriously not know what happened to her…” “It was an accident,” Jude interrupted, his tone freezing the conversation. He reached over to open the passenger door. “Everyone, this is my fiancée, Peyton.” The classmates exchanged uneasy glances, quickly shifting to polite small talk. Strangely, even as the group began walking into the restaurant, Jude remained standing by his car, his eyes darting toward the street entrance. “Jude, who are you looking for?” one of them asked. I wondered too. Everyone from our old class was here, except for me and Austin. Was he waiting for Austin? “No one,” Jude snapped, turning on his heel and walking briskly toward the entrance. Peyton blinked in confusion, quickly scrambling to catch up. Though Jude had cut everyone off years ago, his academic success abroad was well-known. During dinner, classmates kept rising to toast him. Jude accepted every drink offered, and it didn’t take long for the alcohol to flush his cheeks. Peyton, looking worried, finally placed her hand over his glass. “Jude, that’s enough drinking…” Marcus, our old class president, was already tipsy. He laughed and raised his glass. “Come on, Peyton, play nice. When Ruby was with Jude, she never breathed down his neck about having a few drinks.” The private dining room went dead silent. Marcus instantly regretted his words, biting his lip. Jude, however, let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Of course Ruby wouldn’t care. She never loved me anyway.” A sharp ache pierced through my chest, cold and biting. I could accept his anger. I could accept his hatred. But I could not bear him denying the love I had given him. “Jude, that’s out of line!” The voice belonged to Becca, my college roommate and closest friend. Her eyes were red as she looked at Jude, then glanced at Peyton, biting back her words. “She’s not even…” “She’s not here, so I’m not allowed to talk?” Jude sneered, looking around the table. “If she didn’t have a guilty conscience, why is every single person in this room here tonight except for her and Austin?” Peyton added coldly, “People with guilty consciences usually stay hidden.” “Guilty conscience?” Becca slammed her glass onto the table, standing up as tears spilled over her cheeks. “Jude, Ruby has been dead for five years!” Jude bolted upright, knocking his heavy chair backward with a loud, scraping crash. “What did you say?” Becca, fueled by alcohol and years of suppressed anger, screamed back at him, “Who are you to judge her? If she wasn’t so desperate to fly out and explain things to you, she would have never boarded that plane! She would still be alive!” Jude stared at her, his entire body starting to tremble. “Explain what?” Marcus reached out, gently pulling Becca back into her seat. “Jude… Ruby never cheated on you. That photo Austin had was fake. It was Photoshopped.” Hearing this, the tension in Jude’s shoulders suddenly broke, and he let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “Right. Keep making up stories.” He looked at Becca’s tear-stained face with utter disdain. “I get that you guys were close, but fabricating a lie like this just to defend her? It’s pathetic.” “She was blown to pieces for you, and you think I’m lying?” Becca cried. “Shut up!” Jude roared, slamming his fist onto the table. “Tell Ruby she doesn’t need to play dead. I’m not going to sue her or Austin. If she’s really that scared of me, all she has to do is show up, apologize to my face, and we’ll call it even.” Becca laughed, a sound hollow and hysterical. “You want a corpse to apologize to you, Jude?” “Do you take me for a fool?” Jude’s eyes flared with savage anger. “I know a real photo when I see one.” Peyton chimed in, her voice tight. “When that picture was sent, I helped Jude run a digital analysis myself. There was absolutely no trace of editing.” A shadow of pain crossed Jude’s eyes, but he forced his jaw to set. “Tell Ruby that if she doesn’t come here and apologize to me tonight, I’m not leaving this room.” Silence fell over the table. Becca wiped her face, a cold, bitter smile forming on her lips. “An apology? Fine, Jude. Watch this, and tell me who needs to apologize.” Peyton’s face instantly lost all color. Before she could stop her, Becca pressed play on her phone and turned the screen toward Jude. It was the video of Austin’s interview. “Five years ago, my roommate went abroad… I fell helplessly in love with his girlfriend… I Photoshopped an intimate picture… She died in a plane crash on her way to explain…”

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I am the definition of a quiet wallflower, yet my best friend, Serena, is the ultimate player. I always thought she was too clever to ever get caught, but today, her luck finally ran out. She burst into my apartment, her face pale with panic. “I’m ruined, Paige!” “I confessed to three different guys last night, and all three of them said yes! What am I supposed to do?” As she paced the floor in a frenzy, her eyes suddenly lit up. “Hey, how about I give one of them to you?” I thought she was joking, so I casually took the phone from her hand. But the very next second, my breath caught in my throat. One of the contact cards displaying a successful confession belonged to Liam, my high school classmate whom I had secretly loved for five long years. I thought I had buried those feelings years ago. Yet, the moment I saw his face on her screen, my heart skipped a beat. After a long silence, I looked up, keeping my voice as flat and casual as possible. “Sure.” “Can you give this one to me?” 1 Serena went quiet for a few seconds. She shot me a thoroughly surprised look. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to agree so quickly.” I scrolled through his profile, pretending to be indifferent. “He’s handsome. Chatting with him isn’t exactly a chore.” Serena didn’t think much of it, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “True.” A quiet, bitter ache settled in my chest. Serena was a breathtaking beauty. Whenever we traveled to different cities, street photographers would inevitably stop her, asking to take her picture. She would flash them a radiant smile. “Is this free, or are you going to charge me?” The photographers would laugh, their eyes filled with admiration for this stunning stranger. “For you? Absolutely free.” Meanwhile, I would stand awkwardly to the side, holding her coat and waiting for her to finish. Life was rarely fair. I was always the one left in the shadow. I wasn’t ugly, but I was entirely ordinary. Because of that, I hadn’t dated once throughout my four years of college. I never initiated anything, and naturally, no one ever approached me. So, being allowed to step into Serena’s shoes and talk to Liam felt like winning the lottery. It was a tiny, stolen piece of luck. Serena explained that she and Liam had met through an online game. I was stunned to learn that the straight-A student who used to top our class ranking was involved in something as casual as online dating. “He’s actually very generous,” Serena said, tilting her head. “He’s probably quite wealthy, too. He bought me several thousand dollars’ worth of in-game skins.” Then, as if remembering something amusing, she giggled. “But my other guys are much wealthier, so… oops!” I remained silent, not knowing what to say. “Besides, the others are guys I know in real life. He’s the only one I met on the internet.” Serena paused, looking at me seriously. “So, if you meet him in person and he turns out to be a catfish, don’t blame me.” I jumped out of my chair in a panic. “What?” I gasped. “We have to meet in person?” 2 Serena laughed at my dramatic reaction. “Of course you do. What’s the point of online dating if you never meet in real life?” “But… how can I go?” My mind was spinning. “What am I supposed to say?” “Just tell him you’re Serena.” “But I’m not you!” Serena rolled her eyes, flopping onto my beanbag chair with the lazy grace of a cat. “He doesn’t know what I look like, and he’s never met you. The moment you show up, you are Serena.” She spoke with complete nonchalance, as if pretending to be someone else to go on a date was the most natural thing in the world. “What if he asks about… my life? I don’t know anything about what you told him.” “That’s why we’re having a crash course right now.” Serena pulled out her phone and began listing the various details of the persona she had built for Liam. But I didn’t hear a single word. My gaze was entirely fixed on the black profile picture on her screen. Liam. It was only after high school graduation that I had gathered the courage to add him on social media. But his profile had always been set to private, showing only three days of history, which consisted of nothing but generic landscape photos. I had assumed we would remain strangers for the rest of our lives. Yet now, his chat box was open right in front of me. Can we meet tomorrow at seven in the evening? Attached was a small sticker of a puppy scratching its head. It was hard to reconcile this cute, sincere gesture with the brilliant student who used to deliver school speeches with a perfectly deadpan expression. The contrast was incredibly endearing. “…so the key is to keep him hooked. Give him just enough attention to make him obsessed, and then pull back. Keep him wanting more.” Serena suddenly leaned in, catching me staring blankly at the screen. She furrowed her brow. “Are you even listening to me, Paige?” Her voice snapped me back to reality. “Yes, I am.” She crossed her arms, demanding I repeat what she had just said. I remained silent. With a heavy sigh, she handed me her phone. “Forget it. Just read through the chat history from the very beginning. You have twenty-four hours before the date. My survival depends entirely on you, Paige.” She stood up to go start her skincare routine, leaving me alone with the phone. I stared at the screen for a long time. Tomorrow at seven. I was going to use another girl’s name to meet the boy I had loved in secret for five years. It was the cruelest joke fate had ever played on me. 3 I barely slept that night. I spent hours in front of the mirror, practicing Serena’s tone, her gestures, and her laughter. Before leaving the apartment the next evening, I changed into a sleek, emerald slip dress—a style Serena favored but I would never normally wear. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I could barely recognize myself. Serena helped me curl my hair, nodding in approval. “Honestly, you actually look like me now.” Twenty minutes later, I arrived at the restaurant Liam had chosen, a quiet, upscale sushi bar in the city center. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. The restaurant was relatively quiet, and I spotted him immediately. He was slightly leaner than he had been in high school, wearing a thin black sweater with the sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms. His sharp jawline and clean profile were exactly as I remembered, yet there was a new, mature edge to him. I paused at the entrance for a few seconds before forcing my feet to move. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. As I approached the table, he looked up. Our eyes met. My mind went completely blank. Every single opening line Serena had prepared for me vanished into thin air. Liam stood up and politely pulled out a chair for me. The gesture was simple and natural, a testament to his good manners, but it still sent a shiver through my veins. During my high school years, I had dreamed of this moment countless times—sitting across from him, sharing a meal, talking like a normal couple. But it had always been a fantasy. Now, it was real. But I was playing a part. “Hi,” Liam spoke first, his voice low and smooth. “I’m Liam.” “I’m Serena,” I replied, my voice trembling slightly. He looked at me for three long seconds. Those seconds felt like an eternity. Then, a faint, barely perceptible smile touched the corner of his lips. When the waiter handed us the menus, I blurted out, “No wasabi for me, please.” The moment the words left my mouth, I froze in horror. Serena absolutely loved spicy food and wasabi. I had seen a bag of wasabi-flavored chips on her desk just before I left. Hearing my request, Liam fell silent. 4 I scrambled to find a way to cover my mistake, but Liam simply nodded, his expression neutral. “Understood. I’ll make a note of that.” He didn’t ask any questions. I let out a quiet sigh of relief, though a strange, uneasy feeling lingered in the back of my mind. The rest of the dinner went much smoother than I anticipated. Liam was a man of few words, but he was incredibly attentive, ensuring the conversation never felt forced. He listened quietly, nodding occasionally with a soft smile. After that evening, Liam began inviting me out regularly. We had dinners, went for long walks, and visited art exhibitions on the weekends. Meanwhile, Serena seemed to lose all interest in him. She was far too busy managing her other relationships—spending Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays with her younger boyfriend, and Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays visiting her older benefactor at his corporate office. She was a master of time management. One evening, after we finished dinner, the sky was still painted with the pale colors of twilight. Liam mentioned a quiet park nearby and asked if I wanted to take a walk. I agreed. The late April breeze carried a gentle warmth, and the cherry blossoms along the path were in full bloom, scattering pink petals with every gust of wind. He walked on my left, matching his pace perfectly to mine. We talked about random things until he suddenly asked, “Which high school did you go to?” My heart seized. I quickly named a school on the other side of town. “St. Jude’s.” Liam paused in his tracks, then simply murmured, “Ah.” He didn’t press further. As we turned down a quiet, winding path, the sound of familiar laughter drifted through the air—a soft, sweet, melodic giggle. I instinctively raised my eyes, and my entire body went rigid. On a wooden bench just a few yards away sat Serena. She was draped over a young man’s lap, her arms wrapped around his neck as they kissed passionately. It was her younger boyfriend. Liam stopped walking. He had seen them too. My stomach twisted into a tight knot, but then I realized there was no reason to panic. To Liam, the woman on the bench was just a stranger. I was the “Serena” he was dating. He had no reason to care. Forcing a light, casual laugh, I murmured, “Kids these days are certainly adventurous.” I smiled, trying to ease the sudden tension in the air. But there was no response from the man beside me. I turned to look at him, preparing to say something else, when Liam spoke. His voice was incredibly low, cold, and sharp. “What does she have to do with you?” I froze, the sheer hostility in his tone catching me completely off guard. We walked the rest of the way in suffocating silence. It was only as we neared the exit of the park that his steps finally slowed. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice returning to its usual quiet warmth, as if his sudden outburst had been nothing but a figment of my imagination. “I lost my temper back there. That was uncalled for.” “It’s fine,” I whispered. After that day, my dates with Liam became even more frequent. I truly believed that I had successfully stepped into Serena’s shoes, that I was finally the one he was falling for. Until today. I had left work early, wanting to surprise Serena for her birthday, only to be met with a reality that showed me just how foolish I had been. 5 As I neared the restaurant, I spotted Liam standing directly in front of Serena. My blood ran cold. How did they meet? Why were they together? Before I could process the shock, Liam reached out, grabbing Serena’s wrist in a tight, desperate grip. I had never seen such a raw display of anguish on his usually composed face. His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. “Would you rather send a complete stranger to meet me than face me yourself, Serena?” Serena looked as stunned as I was, remaining completely silent. “Who was the man carrying your shopping bags yesterday?” Liam pressed, his voice trembling. “And the one whose car you got into the day before? Serena, how many guys are you playing at once?” Serena bit her lip, refusing to meet his gaze. Liam let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh, as if he had expected this exact response. Yet, he couldn’t seem to let go. “Is it really that hard of a question?” He slowly released her wrist, taking a step back as if he had finally run out of strength. “Let me ask you something else then…” “Serena, did you ever love me? Even a little?” Serena swallowed hard, her face pale. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Stop lying, Serena.” Liam leaned back against the display counter behind him, his eyes completely hollow. And then, he uttered a sentence that made my heart stop. “What about Paige?” Serena flinched. “Why are you bringing her up?” Liam let out a heavy, tired sigh. “Did you really think sending one of my old high school classmates would be enough to get rid of me?” He shook his head, his voice flat and devoid of any warmth. “She is nothing but an irrelevant stranger to me. I could never love her.” “I only love you.” The late April wind suddenly felt like ice, making me tremble from head to toe. I wanted to laugh, but my throat was tight, choked with a sudden, suffocating grief. I tried to back away quietly, wanting to escape before they saw me, but my elbow caught a vintage porcelain vase on a nearby display stand. Crash— The sharp sound shattered the silence of the restaurant. Shards of porcelain scattered across the floor.

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1 On the reality show, the interviewer leaned forward and asked, “Have you ever been in a relationship?” I looked directly into the camera, my voice cool and entirely detached. “Yes. But he was far too clingy, so we broke up.” A moment later, the crew interviewed the nation’s darling, the brilliant, award-winning actor Gabriel. With an incredibly tragic, puppy-dog expression, Gabriel sighed. “She was too cold to me, so she dumped me. Honestly, I only joined this show because of her.” The internet exploded. Within seconds, fans launched a massive online crusade, determined to unmask the ungrateful ex-girlfriend who had dared to break the golden boy’s heart. Meanwhile, I quietly took a step back in the lounge, praying I could blend into the wallpaper. … When I first received the invitation to join Heartbound, a celebrity dating reality show, I had absolutely no intention of going. But then they offered me a sum of money that made my jaw drop. It was only when I arrived on set that I realized my ex-boyfriend, Gabriel, was also on the roster. To make matters worse, his rumored on-screen sweetheart, Alyssa, was here too. The two of them had just starred in a massive historical drama that had taken the country by storm. Their on-screen chemistry was so intense that their shipper fandom was practically feral, begging them to get married in real life. As for me, I was just a struggling, low-tier actress. I had been blessed with striking looks, but cursed with a reputation that turned me into a magnet for online abuse no matter what I did. And ninety percent of that abuse was courtesy of Alyssa. She had set me up on multiple occasions, successfully cementing my status as the ultimate real-life villain in the eyes of the public. The moment Alyssa saw me, she flashed a sweet, nauseating smile. “Paige, darling! I had no idea you’d be here! Why didn’t you tell me?” I brushed past her outstretched hand, utterly refusing to play along. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Alyssa. I’m not your keeper, so why would I report my schedule to you?” She froze, her lower lip trembling as her eyes instantly filled with tears. I didn’t care. If she tried to walk over me this time, I’d drag her down with me. Once all the guests had arrived, Gabriel naturally took the center spot. Alyssa stood proudly right beside him, practically radiating triumph. The live stream went active, and the chat section flooded with adoration. Gabriel and Alyssa look so perfect together! Oh my god, they need to get married already! Lock them in a room together! But Gabriel’s eyes kept drifting toward me. The intensity of his gaze made my stomach flip, and a sudden wave of panic washed over me. To kick off the show, the director announced a sudden segment, demanding that we open our suitcases on camera. I frowned, speaking up before I could stop myself. “Wait, what about basic privacy?” But the internet didn’t care about personal boundaries. The chat began flashing at lightning speed. I want to see what cute things Alyssa brought! Oh my god, show us Gabriel’s suitcase! I’m practically screaming! Looking around, I noticed that the other guests didn’t look surprised at all. I realized instantly that this segment had been pre-arranged. Alyssa and I belonged to the same agency, yet no one had bothered to warn me. Before anyone else could speak, Alyssa eagerly unzipped her bag. “I’m more than happy to share my suitcase! I believe that if you join a show like Heartbound, you should be completely transparent with the audience. Don’t you agree, Paige?” She smiled with pure, harmless innocence, but I only sneered inwardly. She began displaying her belongings, starting with a fluffy, oversized pair of pajamas. “I love plush sleepwear. It’s so cozy!” Aww, those pajamas are adorable! Alyssa is such a sweet, wholesome girl! Look at how open Alyssa is. Meanwhile, some people act like they have dirty secrets to hide. “And these are my skincare products,” Alyssa continued, holding up a few bottles. “As girls, we must always take care of our skin!” She’s so sweet! I love her! Alyssa is the ultimate girl-next-door. Who wouldn’t fall in love with her? Suddenly, Alyssa’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson. She quickly hid something behind her back, stammering with embarrassment. “This… please don’t look at this…” Her childish display only fueled the chat’s curiosity. The director’s eyes lit up, teasing her until she finally yielded. Biting her lip, she slowly brought out a box of herbal tea formulated for chronic stomach issues. “I bought this for myself, not for anyone else…” she whispered, lowering her head in a display of sheer modesty. But everyone knew that Gabriel frequently suffered from severe stomach pain due to his erratic shooting schedules. Oh my god! That is definitely for Gabriel! Alyssa is such a thoughtful angel! This is true love! The ship is real! Please just announce your relationship already! Am I the only one who thinks she’s being incredibly dramatic? If it was for herself, why make such a scene? The skeptical comments were instantly drowned out by her army of fans. Alyssa went through her entire suitcase, basking in the wave of online adoration. She shot me a smug, superior look, but I only offered a lazy shrug. Then she turned her gaze toward Gabriel, looking like a puppy begging for a treat. But Gabriel didn’t even glance at her. He looked right past her, his eyes locked onto me. I quickly looked down, pretending to be fascinated by my sneakers. We were broken up, yet he was still looking at me like that. It was going to be the death of me. The director soon turned the camera toward me, and I reluctantly unzipped my suitcase. Inside were just a few simple changes of clothes, two basic bottles of moisturizer, chargers, and a mountain of snacks. Fortunately, I had packed my underwear in a separate, solid black pouch. I pulled my collar up, wondering if my agent would strangle me for bringing so many snacks. Is Paige only using two bottles of moisturizer? With skin that perfect, she’s definitely trying to show off. She’s so fake. First she complains about privacy, and now she’s trying to establish a cute foodie persona? This is hilarious. Who brings a suitcase full of junk food to a dating show? So try-hard. Alyssa is much more genuine. I had no idea I was being thoroughly ripped apart online over a few bags of chips. Seeing that I hadn’t made a fool of myself, Alyssa’s smile faltered slightly. Finally, it was Gabriel’s turn. His suitcase was incredibly neat, containing only the essentials. However, with a quiet smile, he reached in and pulled out several bars of dark sea-salt chocolate. I didn’t know Gabriel liked dark chocolate! I need to buy some right now! One suitcase is full of chips, and the other has artisanal chocolate. Why does this feel strangely romantic? Don’t start shipping them. It’s only going to hurt you. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, my heart hammering against my ribs. Gabriel hated chocolate. But that specific brand was my absolute favorite. The host smiled warmly, leaning in with the microphone. “Gabriel, why did you bring so much chocolate? We heard you don’t even like sweets.” Gabriel offered a bright, charming smile, his eyes drifting lazily in my direction. “Someone I love is completely obsessed with this brand. I brought it specifically for her.” The internet went absolutely wild. Oh my god! Is he talking about Alyssa? He loves her so much! It has to be Alyssa! Their chemistry in the drama was off the charts! Alyssa fans need to stop projecting. There are other female guests on this show. Alyssa stepped forward, her voice sweet and high-pitched as she stared at the chocolate. She clasped her hands over her mouth in delight. “Gabriel, you like this brand too? What a coincidence, it’s my favorite as well!” Gabriel silently placed the chocolate back into his suitcase, offering a cool, detached response. “Right.” Haha, is Gabriel just shy? Only real couples act this awkward on camera. If they weren’t together, they’d be playing it up with polite banter! That actually makes a lot of sense. Wait, did anyone notice that Paige also had chocolate in her bag? So what? She’s probably just trying to ride the coattails of our favorite couple! Within minutes, the trending topics on social media were completely dominated: #AlyssaAndGabrielShareSameTaste #PaigeTriesToClingToGabrielWithSnacks 2 To make the filming process easier, our rooms were located on the second floor of the villa. Gabriel looked like an absolute runway model in his crisp white shirt and dark trousers. Even while pulling a suitcase, he exuded an aura of elegant, untouchable grace. Alyssa, on the other hand, stood by her heavy bag, looking incredibly fragile. She cast a helpless, pleading look toward Gabriel. “Gabriel, could you help me with my suitcase? It’s so heavy, I can’t seem to lift it.” Her voice was sweet enough to melt a stone. But Gabriel walked straight past her, stopping right beside me. “Sorry, Paige already asked me to help her first. You’ll have to find someone else.” Before I could say a word, he snatched the handle of my suitcase from my grip. Alyssa’s fans instantly lost their minds, flooding the live chat with anger. Paige is shameless! First she copies Alyssa’s snacks, and now she’s stealing her man? Can someone please kick Paige off this show? She’s ruining the romance! What a manipulative snake. She clearly saw Alyssa struggling, yet she rushed to claim Gabriel first! Is Alyssa a delicate princess or something? Can’t you see Gabriel simply didn’t want to help her? I was entirely oblivious to the online war, but I knew I was likely being roasted alive. To minimize the damage, I held onto the handle, whispering through gritted teeth, “Let go. I can carry it myself. I don’t need your help.” He refused to release his grip. Instead, he leaned down close, his lips curving into a soft smirk. When we were together, this specific movement usually meant he was about to kiss me. Fearing he would do something reckless on live television, I immediately let go and stepped back. He raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping to a low whisper that only the two of us could hear. “I’ll bring the chocolate to your room tonight.” My face flushed hot. Seeing Alyssa standing there in distress, another male guest, Brody, stepped forward to help. “Alyssa, let me carry that for you.” Alyssa’s eyes welled with tears as she shook her head. “No, thank you. I can manage on my own.” Brody blinked, looking genuinely confused. “Wait, if you can do it yourself, why did you ask Gabriel in the first place?” Alyssa’s face burned crimson with embarrassment. Angered, she grabbed her bag and dragged it up the stairs herself. The viewers were stunned. Brody is the ultimate literal-minded guy. Alyssa looks so pitiful. Is everyone ganging up on her just because she’s successful? My heart breaks for her. She was just trying to be polite, and now everyone is treating her like a burden. Gabriel carried both of our suitcases upstairs, entirely ignoring Alyssa as he walked past her. She bit her lip, looking thoroughly miserable. Seeing her distress, several other male guests quickly rushed over to offer their help, which finally brought a small, satisfied smile back to her face. See? Our girl is still loved by everyone! That snake Paige might have gotten his help, but Gabriel clearly belongs to Alyssa! Gabriel shouldn’t have helped Paige. Look at her face, she doesn’t even look grateful. Who does she think she is? I followed behind Gabriel, nursing a massive headache. The rooms were self-selected, and under the pretext of convenience, Gabriel claimed the room directly next to mine. Alyssa quickly claimed the room on his other side. As he set my suitcase down inside my room, he turned his back to the cameras and shot me a heavy, loaded look. When we were together, this look was always followed by him pinning me against the nearest surface. My heart did a violent flutter. Even after all this time, I still had absolutely zero immunity to his face. I swallowed hard, preparing to kick him out, but he simply turned and walked away with effortless grace. Alright, maybe I was just overthinking things. After all, we were broken up.

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I married a stern, old-fashioned doctor. He always claimed I was too young, yet he was willing to unbutton his own coat to keep my sister warm. Heartbroken and utterly discouraged, I turned to walk away. He let out a soft sigh. “If you want to talk, Luna, could you at least button my shirt back up first?” So, I packed my bags and ran. He tracked me down at a hotel, cornering me in the dim room. “Running away just to elope with that little punk? Does he know you can’t sleep unless you’re wrapped in my arms every single night? Speak to me.” That night, I was terrified. I had never seen Liam lose control like that. 1 I woke up at six-thirty in the morning. By my calculations, Matthew should be wrapping up his shift right about now. Hey handsome, off shift yet? Can I come pick you up and drive us home? They just opened a new bakery on the strip. The cupcakes look absolutely gorgeous! I’m dying to try one. Look! [Image Attached] I set my phone down, got out of bed, and started on my makeup and outfit. An hour slipped by. My screen remained a graveyard of one-sided chatter. No response from Matthew. I patted my cheeks gently in the mirror, whispering a little pep talk to myself. It was fine. Matthew was a surgeon. His schedule was brutal. I couldn’t expect him to be attached to his phone. With a sigh, I decided to just head over to the hospital and surprise him. But as I reached for my keys, my phone blared. It was my mother. “Luna, where are you?” her voice vibrated with panic. “Get to the emergency room right now! Your sister has been in an accident!” 2 When I burst into the hospital, the first person I saw was Matthew. My sister, Blythe, was weeping, her shoulders trembling as she spoke to him. He let out a soft sigh. Then, unbuttoning his own heavy coat, he draped it gently over her shivering frame. My feet froze to the linoleum floor. “Luna! Over here!” My mother spotted me and called out. Forcing my face into a mask of calm, I hurried over. It was only then that I noticed the crimson splatters coating Blythe’s clothes. “Blythe! Oh my god, are you hurt? What happened?” Her pale face managed a fragile, reassurred smile. “I’m okay, Luna. It’s not my blood. Don’t worry.” She had stumbled upon a multi-car pileup on her way back. Being a doctor herself, her instincts had kicked in, and she had performed emergency triage on the asphalt. My mother had seen a local news broadcast showing her covered in blood and had panicked, calling me in a frenzy. Blythe wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Honestly, thank god for Matthew. He coordinated the incoming trauma bays. I don’t know what I would have done without him.” Matthew shook his head, his expression characteristically neutral. “Just doing my job.” “But some of them,” Blythe’s voice cracked, her eyes pooling again, “we couldn’t save them. There was nothing we could do.” She broke down into quiet, choked sobs. Matthew pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her. “You did everything you could.” I wrapped an arm around my sister’s shoulders, murmuring soft comforts. Only then did Matthew finally turn his gaze toward me, as if just realizing I was standing there. “Why are you here?” he asked. I blinked, momentarily thrown by his cool tone. “I came to pick you up.” “No need. I have a late-night surgery scheduled. Head home first.” His voice was a flat, even line, devoid of the warmth he had just shown my sister. “Oh. Okay.” Before I could say anything else, he turned and strode down the corridor. Blythe quickly dried her eyes and stood up. “I don’t have anything pressing. Let me know if you need an extra set of hands in the OR!” she called out, hurrying after him. I watched their retreating figures, moving in perfect, synchronized harmony. They looked so right together. 3 It was past midnight when Matthew finally unlocked the front door. True to his usual routine, he headed straight for the guest bedroom. Six months of marriage, and he had yet to touch me. Every time I tried to bridge the distance, his answer was always the same: You’re still too young, Luna. Be good. But tonight, I didn’t want to be good. I kicked off my covers and crept down the hallway, slipping quietly into his bed. Matthew had just stepped out of the bathroom. A white towel was slung low on his hips, and droplets of water clung to his collarbones, catching the dim light. I swallowed hard. “Come here,” he murmured. I padded over like a fool. He immediately stepped out of his slippers and nudged them toward my feet. “Barefoot again.” At a moment like this, who cared about shoes? I lunged forward, wrapping my arms tight around his torso, my hands sliding over the firm, hot planes of his chest. The touch of his abs and the sharp dip of his waist sent a shiver straight down my spine. Matthew’s breath hitched, and he gently but firmly pried my hands away. His gaze darted downward, suddenly tense. Beneath the terry cloth of his towel, a very distinct, rigid contour had formed. Flustered, Matthew took a step back. “I need to take another shower.” I didn’t let him escape. I threw my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my cheek against his damp shoulder blades. “Are you going to run from me forever, Matthew? Either make this a real marriage, or give me a divorce. You choose.” 4 Matthew went completely rigid beneath my touch. His skin felt simultaneously burning hot and ice cold. My small hands felt like matches, sparking miniature wild fires wherever they brushed against his skin. “Luna, please. You’re too young.” “I’m not a child anymore. I graduate next spring.” I stepped around him, forcing him to face me. The dark depths of his eyes held a storm of emotions I couldn’t quite decipher. Reaching up, I cupped his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “Don’t you want me, Matthew?” The next second, the sky fell. His mouth slammed onto mine, a desperate, crushing kiss that swept away my breath. He lifted me effortlessly, my feet dangling as he carried me to the bed. Cool droplets from his hair fell onto my bare collarbones, stinging slightly, but the heat of his body quickly vaporized the chill. The tenderness was gone, replaced by a fierce, raw possessiveness. It hurt a little, but it was intoxicating. For a man who was always so composed, so utterly unshakable, this unbridled hunger was a revelation. He wanted me. Desperately. The night stretched on, a blur of heavy sighs, tangled sheets, and a fire that refused to be quenched. When the first rays of dawn finally filtered through the blinds, I was utterly spent, whimpering softly into his chest. “Say it,” he rasped, his voice rough and low against my ear. “Tell me who I am.” “Husband,” I breathed, my voice practically gone. He pressed a fierce, lingering kiss to my shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly against my skin, before I finally drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. 5 When I woke up, the space beside me was already cold. A neat note sat on the nightstand: An emergency trauma came in. I’ll try to be home early. There’s breakfast warming on the stove. Make sure you eat. I let out a long, shaky exhale, pulling the duvet up to hide the colorful marks blooming across my skin. I rolled over, intending to steal a few more hours of sleep, when my phone began to vibrate violently. It was Carter, my childhood best friend. I dragged the phone to my ear. “What?” I rasped, my voice sounding like a rusted hinge. Carter gasped on the other end. “Jesus, Luna, did you catch the plague? Why do you sound like you’ve been screaming at a rock concert?” I flushed crimson, thinking of exactly why my throat was raw. “Never mind that. What do you want?” “Oh, right. That background check you asked me to run on Matthew and your sister. I finally got the files.” “What files?” My brain was still half-asleep. “You know, when you suspected there was some history between them before you guys got married. You forgot already?” My heart did a sudden, violent downward plunge. The memory of Blythe weeping in the ER flashed in my mind. “What did you find?” Carter let out a heavy sigh, his tone uncharacteristically somber. “Luna, are you sure you want to hear this? If you want to back out, now’s your last chance.” 6 Matthew came home earlier than usual that evening. Normally, the moment his key turned in the lock, I’d be waiting by the door, demanding a welcome-home kiss. He would always frown, gently nudging me away with, “I haven’t washed my hands yet, sweetheart. It’s dirty.” “I’m not kissing your hands,” I would pout, and though he’d look exasperated, he would always bend down and kiss me anyway. But tonight, I didn’t move. I remained curled up on the sofa, staring blankly at the television. I heard him pause at the entryway, a beat of hesitation in his footsteps before he changed his shoes, washed his hands, and walked over to me. He gently pulled the throw blanket up to my shoulders. “How long have you had the AC blasting? Aren’t you cold?” I didn’t answer. Matthew picked up the remote and raised the temperature. On screen, the main characters of the romance drama were finally confessing their love, sharing a tearful embrace. My own tears began to slip silently down my cheeks. Matthew pulled a tissue from the box and offered it to me. I ignored it. With a soft sigh, he sat down beside me, gently turning my face toward his to wipe my wet lashes. His eyes searched mine, but I kept my gaze fixed on the screen. “They finally made it,” I whispered. “Yeah,” he murmured softly. “They were college sweethearts. They fell in love at university, but they separated because of a misunderstanding. Now they’ve found their way back to each other, and they’re going to get married.” Matthew let out a soft chuckle, his thumb stroking my cheek. “It’s just a TV show, Luna. You’re more invested than the actors.” “Matthew, who was your first love?” The question caught him entirely off guard. His frame went rigid. I leaned forward, burying my face in his chest, clutching his shirt. “I mean, you were my first everything. What about you? And don’t you dare lie and say it was me. I won’t believe it.” Before he could answer, his phone buzzed. Probably the hospital. He reached for it, but I clamped my hand over his. “Is there really no other surgeon in that entire building besides you?” “Luna, don’t be difficult.” I clung to him, pressing my lips against his collarbone, nipping lightly until I felt his breath hitch and his grip tighten on my waist. But he answered the call anyway. Because I was pressed so close to him, I could hear the voice on the other end loud and clear. It wasn’t the hospital administrator. “Matthew? Are you busy right now? Could you come over for a bit?” It was Blythe. A sudden wave of mischief and resentment washed over me. I began tracing slow, agonizing circles over his chest through his thin cotton shirt. He was incredibly ticklish there. His hand shot out, capturing my wrists to still my movements. He stood up, the tips of his ears flushing a deep crimson. “What’s the emergency?” his voice remained perfectly cool and professional, but his eyes were dark. He took a few steps away, and I could no longer make out Blythe’s words. I could only watch as his brow furrowed, the flush on his ears draining away to leave him pale. His expression turned incredibly grim. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up and turned toward the door. I grabbed his wrist. “Luna…” Matthew paused, dialing Blythe back quickly. “I have to go. Let’s talk when I get there.” He hung up and looked down at me. “Luna, the hospital…” “I don’t want you to go.” It was the first time I had ever thrown a tantrum. Matthew blinked, slowly sitting back down on the edge of the sofa, trying to coax me. “Be a good girl, Luna. I’ll be back before you know it…” “Don’t bother.” I didn’t look at him, keeping my voice as cold as ice. “Either you stay here tonight, or we get a divorce. Choose.” 7 Matthew didn’t choose. He simply patted my shoulder and murmured, “Luna, don’t throw that word around so lightly.” And then he walked out the door. He actually left. Furious, I hurled the remote control at the door. Fine. If he thought I was just making empty threats, I would show him. I stood up to go pack my bags. But as I passed the dining table, I froze. Sitting there was a beautifully wrapped cake box. It was from the exact bakery I had messaged him about the day before. All my random, silly messages… he had actually read them. He had remembered. I pulled out a chair and sat down slowly. Unwrapping the cake, I took a small bite. Liar. It wasn’t sweet at all. Two hot tears spilled over my lashes, dripping onto the pristine frosting. 8 I went back to my mother’s house. For three days, I lived like a coddled princess, doing nothing but lounging on the sofa. As I was mid-bite into a tub of ice cream, I heard the front door open. I didn’t turn around, mostly because I didn’t want to face my mother’s inevitable interrogation. “Mom, if I told you I wanted a divorce, would you still let me live here?” The sound of keys clattering to the floor made me whip my head around. “Mom, I was just kidding, don’t be—” The words died in my throat. My mother was indeed standing there, but Matthew was right behind her. My mother looked incredibly anxious, while Matthew remained completely unbothered, carrying several heavy grocery bags. “Let me help you put these in the kitchen, Mom,” he said smoothly. “Oh, thank you, Matthew.” The moment he stepped into the kitchen, my mother rushed over, her voice a harsh whisper. “What on earth are you talking about? Divorce? Did you two have a fight?” “No.” I pulled a throw pillow over my face, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into the cushions. My mother let out a frustrated sigh. “Matthew spoils you too much. It’s made you utterly lawless.” I pulled the pillow down slightly. “Mom, Blythe is older and still single. Why did you insist on me marrying Matthew instead of her?” “Your grandfather and Matthew’s grandfather made that pact decades ago. It was always meant for you and Matthew. Besides, weren’t you head over heels for him? What is this sudden nonsense?” I wasn’t the only one who loved him. I offered a bitter smile, stood up, and retreated to my old bedroom. Matthew was exasperatingly good at playing the perfect son-in-law. Within an hour, the scent of a gourmet dinner drifted through the house, and I could hear my mother laughing merrily at something he said. I curled up on my bed, refusing to go out. A quiet knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” I mumbled, burying my face deeper into the pillow. Matthew stepped inside, stopping just across the threshold, maintaining a polite distance. “Are we going home tonight?” The front door chimed again. Blythe was home. “Mom, what smells so good?” “Matthew made dinner!” “Matthew? Why is he here?” Footsteps approached my room, and Blythe appeared in the doorway. She froze when she saw the two of us. “Luna, you’re back too?” “Yeah. Just staying for a couple of days.” I brushed past them both, heading to the dining room. The table was laden with dishes. There was the sweet-and-sour pork I loved, the chicken broth my mother adored, and… A plate of garlic-roasted potatoes. Blythe’s absolute favorite. He really was incredibly thoughtful. 9 “Blythe, I thought you avoided garlic like the plague these days?” My sister had been quietly reaching for the roasted potatoes throughout the meal. Even my mother had noticed. Blythe flushed slightly, offering a shy smile. “It’s been a while. I suddenly had a craving for them.” I let out a silent, bitter laugh. In the years before we were married, how many times had Matthew made those exact potatoes for her? Ever since we were kids, because Blythe loved potatoes, that dish had always belonged to her. By habit, I never touched them. Just as the sweet-and-sour pork was always reserved for me. But tonight, I didn’t touch a single bite of my favorite dish. I simply drank two bowls of soup and stood up. “I’m full.” Matthew set his fork down, his gaze tracking me as I walked away. “She’s just throwing a little tantrum,” my mother whispered loudly. “Go on in and coax her. She’ll soften up.” Matthew nodded politely and followed me into my room, closing the door firmly behind him. My childhood bedroom was small, and his tall frame made the space feel instantly cramped. I sat at my old desk, staring at the wall. “What do you want?” Matthew didn’t answer. He picked up a small photo frame from my desk, his eyes lingering on a picture of me laughing as a teenager. “I came to take you home.” “What home? You made your choice, Matthew.” He finally set the frame down and took a slow step toward me. I felt a sudden, inexplicable wave of nervousness. “What are you doing?” His eyes were dark and unreadable. “Luna, it seems I haven’t made myself clear.” “What?” He stepped close, his hands cupping my face. “Didn’t I tell you never to say those two words again?” The warning signs were there, but my stubborn streak won. “I’ll say it if I want to. I want a divorce, Matthew! A—” His mouth slammed down on mine, cutting off the word with a punishing, bruising kiss. It was just like that night—wild, intense, and laced with a quiet fury. “Stop… mmm… my family is right outside…” I gasped, trying to push against his solid chest, but he only pressed closer. The doorknob clicked. “Matthew, Mom wanted to ask you…” Blythe’s voice cut off instantly. “Oh. Sorry.” The door clicked shut again as she fled. Matthew didn’t even pause. He lifted me easily, tossing me onto the soft mattress of my single bed. “Are you out of your mind? We’re at my mother’s house!” I hissed. A slow, dangerous smile crept onto his lips as he began slowly unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time. “Isn’t this exactly the kind of thrill you like, baby?”

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I was Cole’s doomed first love. But the moment he looped back in time, his very first instinct was to abandon me. He went straight to my stand-in to confess his feelings. The boy who once cried with red-rimmed eyes, swearing I was the love of his life, now stood in front of a rolling camera. He looked deeply into the eyes of the girl who replaced me and made a solemn vow. “Loving you is my business, and it has absolutely nothing to do with anyone else.” Later, on the day I accepted the confession from the untouchable genius of our college. Cole lost his mind and completely shattered the wine glass in his bare hand. People said that night, Cole completely lost it. 1 When I accidentally plummeted from the stage, the entire crew rushed over in a panic. Only Cole walked away, his back turned to the chaos. I rarely had the chance to see Cole walk away from me. In the past, he really did love me. So it was always me who turned around first. Fighting through the bone-piercing agony, I grabbed the wrist of a stagehand just before I blacked out. “Please. Book me a full-body scan.” According to the original plotline, I was supposed to die of stomach cancer in exactly one year. Then, I would become Cole’s tragic, unattainable first love. But the script had changed. Seeing the resolute yet guilty look in Cole’s eyes before he left, I knew I wasn’t the only one who remembered the past timeline. It was obvious who he was rushing off to find. The male lead had been reborn. He finally realized who his true love was and was desperate to find his substitute girl to prove his devotion. Their messy, passionate romance no longer needed a dying first love to serve as a stepping stone. But those chemotherapy sessions hurt. They hurt so much. And I really, really didn’t want to die again. 2 I was unconscious for an entire day. The doctor said my body was perfectly healthy. Nothing but a bit of mild gastritis. My calf was wrapped in a heavy plaster cast. It was clunky, but lying in that pristine white hospital bed, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. During the days I spent resting with my leg elevated, plenty of classmates and friends dropped by with fruit and flowers. Cole never showed up once. Actually, in my previous life, I also fell off the stage during that same rehearsal. The difference was, the old Cole stayed by my hospital bed for three days and three nights without sleeping. He loved me so much back then. I remember him staring at my cast, trying to suppress his furious panic, his lips pressed tight as his eyes grew bloodshot. That was probably when he loved me the most. I returned to campus a week later, hobbling on crutches. Completely by accident, I stumbled right into a grand, highly publicized confession. Under the blinding spotlight, Cole handed a massive bouquet of baby’s breath to the girl who had just delivered a flawless performance. It was Lily’s favorite flower. The substitute. The live-stream cameras for the welcome gala were still rolling. Because of my accident days prior, the performance I had prepared was handed over to Lily. It felt like a universal rule. Whatever was mine would eventually belong to her. Cole stood in front of the massive crowd. Under the glittering lights, his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. I saw restraint in his gaze, mixed with the burning intensity of a man who had reclaimed his lost treasure. He looked at her and made his vow. “Loving you is my business, and it has absolutely nothing to do with anyone else.” I stared at Cole, feeling a bit numb. My mind drifted back to the year I was critically ill. The boy who was notoriously wild and untamable had cried until his eyes were swollen. He lay his head on the edge of my bed, choking on his sobs, begging me not to leave him. With trembling hands, he had carefully slipped a diamond ring onto my finger. Unfortunately, the disease took my life shortly after. I never got to give him an answer. The grand confession pushed the gala’s atmosphere to a fever pitch. Lily flushed a deep red. With a shy, breathtaking smile, she accepted the baby’s breath from Cole’s hands. They looked like a match made in heaven. Perfect. Destined. Then Blake vaulted onto the stage. He snatched the white flowers right out of Lily’s hands, his knuckles popping from how hard he gripped the stems. He smashed the bouquet at Cole’s feet. White petals exploded across the stage floor. “Is this how you treat Audrey?” Cole froze. He instinctively turned his head, his eyes scanning the crowd until they locked onto me standing on the outskirts. But his gaze darted away just as fast. The boy who once loved me to his very core lowered his eyelashes and took a firm, protective step in front of Lily. It was the ultimate defensive posture. Once a toxic male lead finally wakes up and realizes who he truly loves, he will never let his new leading lady suffer even a fraction of an ounce of disrespect. Not getting an answer, Blake swung a brutal punch right at Cole’s jaw. The romantic, cinematic confession instantly devolved into a messy brawl. Standing far away from the chaos, my fingers brushed against the crescent moon bracelet on my wrist. It was a birthday gift from Cole. He had put so much effort into it back then. A boy who hated sitting still actually spent an entire month designing it just for me. When he clasped it around my wrist, he pretended to be fierce, ordering me never to take it off. He told me it was one of a kind. A symbol of his exclusive devotion to me. But I was never his leading lady. I was just the doomed first love, a mere plot device meant to push his relationship with Lily forward. What isn’t mine will never belong to me. I decided I needed to find a time to give the bracelet back. 3 I have seen what Cole looks like when he truly loves someone. It happened in the timeline after my death. He didn’t know my soul was trapped by his side. He didn’t know I was forced to watch how the story unfolded. At first, he spiraled into a dark depression. Then, he became obsessed with collecting things that reminded him of me, finding a string of girls who shared my features. He had a lot of stand-ins. But Lily was the one who looked the least like me. She stayed by his side the longest. She was his ultimate female lead. It happened in the third year after my death. Cole finally snapped out of his delusion and realized he had fallen deeply in love with Lily. Their intense, dramatic romance left no room for anyone else. The so-called “first love” was just a tool to trigger their jealousy and push them closer together. When Blake found out Cole had caught real feelings for the substitute, he was furious and threw a punch. He demanded to know, “Is this how you treat Audrey?” Cole and Lily’s wedding reception was completely ruined by the sudden brawl. My ghost floated helplessly beside them. I wanted to break up the fight, but my hands passed through everything. I wanted to tell them to stop. I wanted to say Cole didn’t owe me anything. The only thing Cole might have felt guilty about was the time he got jumped in an alley, and I took a knife to the back for him. The cut was so deep it hit the bone, leaving a massive, ugly scar across my spine. Later, when I was diagnosed with terminal illness, Cole went absolutely insane trying to find a way to save me. He cried by my bed, swearing he would only ever love me. That he would only ever marry me. I had never seen him cry with such devastating despair. But promises are just words. They were never meant to be taken seriously. I snapped out of my memories. The two guys wrestling on the stage were finally pulled apart by the crowd. Cole had managed to land a solid punch right next to Blake’s ear. His eyes were completely dark, his voice a lethal warning. “Stop acting like a psycho.” In the last timeline, after Blake ruined the wedding, Cole used his family’s money to bankrupt Blake, eventually driving him to take his own life. Blake was only doing this for me. There was no way I could just stand by and watch. I hobbled over on my crutches, looking straight at a pale, trembling Lily. “Don’t misunderstand,” I told her seriously. “There is absolutely nothing going on between Cole and me.” Plotline aside, our connection should have been severed completely a long time ago. Hearing this, Blake wiped his mouth, stood up, and shot Cole a freezing glare. He carefully supported my weight and walked me out of the auditorium, step by step. Before I left the building, I unclasped the bracelet. It held the warmth of my skin, but as the cool night air hit it, it quickly grew cold. I thought about it for a second, then tossed it directly into a nearby trash can. I deliberately didn’t mention the bracelet in front of Lily. I knew Cole wouldn’t give her something I had already worn. He always gave Lily the very best of everything. Never a simple, fragile trinket like this. I felt a burning stare drilling into my back, practically piercing through my bones. I glanced over my shoulder. Cole was staring dead at my completely bare wrist. His face was terrifyingly pale. 4 After that night, I heard the rumors. While I was stuck in the hospital for a week, Cole had launched an aggressive, highly public pursuit of Lily. People called it love at first sight. He made such a massive scene that the whole campus knew, and their relationship practically had a dedicated fan club. That was exactly how Cole operated when he liked someone. Passionate. Fearless. Willing to lay the absolute best of the world at their feet. As for me. Some people waited to watch me humiliate myself. Others just pitied me. I didn’t care either way. My family’s background was on par with Cole’s, and our dating rumors had eventually reached our parents’ ears. When my mom called to ask, I just laughed it off and clarified that we were strictly platonic. It was a favor to Cole, and a favor to myself. I refused to get dragged into the messy drama of the main characters ever again. Balancing a heavy stack of library books in my arms, I slowly made my way down the stairs. My foot hadn’t completely healed yet. Suddenly, someone rushing to class clipped my shoulder from behind. The books scattered everywhere. I lost my balance. Seeing the hard concrete stairs rushing up to meet my face, I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut. The brutal impact never came. Someone firmly caught my forehead, steadying me. When I opened my eyes and saw his face, my eyelashes fluttered. I managed a clumsy, “Thank you.” It was Sebastian. I hadn’t seen Sebastian in a very long time. I had only heard whispers that he recently published another groundbreaking paper. The faculty worshipped him, and his spot in the top grad program was already locked in. Girls confessed to him constantly, but he never gave them the time of day. Just like in high school, he was the campus untouchable. Completely out of reach. Cold, detached, and impossible to claim. He quickly pulled his hand back and crouched down to gather my scattered books. His crisp white shirt seemed to glow in the sunlight spilling through the stairwell window. The tiny mole under the corner of his eye caught the light, gleaming in a way that made my chest ache. Right now, his expression was entirely blank. As if he didn’t even know me. I took the books he handed back. Just as he turned to leave, I reached out without thinking and grabbed the hem of his shirt. “Hey… could I get your number?” It was the clumsiest pickup line in existence. A brief flicker of surprise seemed to cross Sebastian’s features, but then it was gone, leaving nothing but ice. He looked down, his voice barely a whisper, yet every single word cut deep. “Are you trying to play me again, Audrey?” There was a bitter edge of self-mockery in his tone. My breath hitched. Ah. He hadn’t forgotten me after all. Which meant he probably hated my guts. 5 I met Sebastian long before I ever met Cole. But our ending was anything but graceful. Or rather, in Sebastian’s eyes, we never even had a beginning. I had told him I liked him. I worked myself to the bone just to get accepted into the same college as him. But the moment he finally gathered the courage to confess to me, I shot him down with brutal cruelty. At that time, the story’s algorithm had activated. I was destined to meet Cole freshman year, and I was destined to die a few years later, cementing my role as the untouchable ghost of his past. It was an unchangeable script. But back then, I had almost melted Sebastian’s frozen heart. The boy who was as cold as a glacier actually smiled at me with pure, unfiltered warmth. The System absolutely refused to let that happen. When the System attached itself to me, Sebastian’s existence almost got completely wiped out. People started forgetting the brilliant, aloof physics prodigy. His body began to turn translucent. Every trace that he had ever existed in this world was being erased by a supernatural force. Using my System privileges, I sneaked a look at what Sebastian’s future was supposed to be. It was beautiful. He was meant to enter the most prestigious university in the country and become a globally renowned astronomer at a shockingly young age. He would discover a planet, and they would name it after him. He shouldn’t lose a bright, brilliant future just because of me. At the high school graduation banquet, in front of our entire class, I dumped a glass of red wine right over his head. The dark red liquid ruined his shirt, completely crushed his pride. And annihilated his love for me. With my chin tilted high, I looked at him with absolute disgust. “You’re just a charity case living off my family’s money. Who gave you the right to like me?” No one knew my hands were violently shaking inside my sleeves. I never saw Sebastian again after that. After burning the bridge so thoroughly, he vanished from my world entirely. And eventually, I ran into Cole, the male lead I was mathematically obligated to fall for. The inescapable algorithm forced me step-by-step into the role of the tragic, short-lived first love. But all these years, I never once dreamed of Sebastian. Sometimes I thought I had been so wicked, so cruel. That even in my dreams, Sebastian refused to look at me.

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1 Ten years after my death, I saw Knox again. He still had that same reckless, untamed aura. With full tattoo sleeves and a lazy, arrogant slouch, he walked like a guy showing up to collect a gambling debt. I deliberately floated right into his personal space, blowing air into his face and waving my hands in front of his eyes. I even phased straight through his chest and out his back. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see me anyway. Suddenly, his footsteps faltered. I thought he had actually felt something, but he just stopped, pulled out a cigarette, and squinted into the distance as he lit it. Then, looking absolutely nowhere, he casually remarked, “Hazel, your dress is dirty.” I froze, instinctively looking down. I was wearing the white dress I was buried in, and it was perfectly clean. Before I could even process what was happening, he added, “Idiot. You don’t even know how to clean yourself up before coming out to see me.” Wait! Could he see me? Hearing his words, I frantically inspected myself again. There was nothing there. I was spotless. I was convinced he could see me until he suddenly squatted down and began wiping the grime off my tombstone with his sleeve. “Stupid girl. You don’t even know your clothes are dirty after you’re dead.” Hey, make up your mind. What do you mean, I don’t know my clothes are dirty? I am a very hygienic ghost, thank you very much. I stood beside him, taking advantage of his blindness to throw phantom punches and kicks at his shoulders. Take that, you bastard. You didn’t expect this, did you? I could never beat you in a fight when I was alive, but now that I’m dead, I’m throwing heavy hands. We used to wrestle and play-fight all the time back in the day. Every single match ended with him effortlessly pinning me to the mattress. My consecutive losses only fueled my rebellious spirit. Where there is oppression, there is resistance. Even if I died before I ever actually won a round against him. Knox couldn’t feel my ghostly assault. Still squatting on the grass, he reached into a plastic bag and pulled out a carton of strawberry milk, my absolute favorite. He was wearing a faded hair tie on his wrist. It was mine from years ago. There were dark, heavy bags under his eyes, yet he still managed that signature wicked smirk. “Hazel, little kids need to drink more milk. I’m not pouring you liquor today. I brought you the strawberry stuff.” Hey, what is that supposed to mean? Are you insulting my alcohol tolerance? Furious, I draped myself over his back and let my long ghost hair fall directly over his eyes. Consider yourself lucky, Knox. I am giving you the premium paranormal blackout experience, free of charge. You’re welcome. Knox suddenly raised a hand and brushed his own dark bangs out of his eyes, nearly giving me a heart attack. For a second, I thought he had actually felt my hair. I don’t know what memory suddenly crossed his mind, but the warmth in his eyes vanished instantly. A suffocating wave of pure depression radiated from his body. Beneath that heavy sorrow, there was a bitter trace of guilt. He lowered his head and whispered, “Hazel, I’m sorry.” Huh? Sorry? Sorry for what? “I shouldn’t have picked a fight with you that day.” Oh, please. Couples fight all the time. I waved my hand dismissively, even though he couldn’t see it. “If I hadn’t fought with you, would you still be alive?” As he spoke, the rims of his eyes turned a violent shade of red. His entire posture collapsed into misery. I patted his broad shoulder, trying to soothe him. “Come on, Knox. You’re thirty-two years old, why are we bringing up ancient history? Let the past stay in the past.” But he couldn’t hear me. He remained trapped in his own suffocating guilt. Honestly, I had never seen him look this broken before. From the day I met him, he had always been wildly arrogant, untethered, and constantly wearing a lazy smirk. All his friends used to say he was the anchor of the group, completely unshakeable. Yet here he was, looking exactly like a puppy that had been abandoned in the rain. Seeing him like this, the sympathy I thought had died along with my physical body started to overflow. “Good boy. Mommy is still here. I might be dead, but my soul is hanging around.” I reached out to stroke his thick dark hair, softening my voice. He suddenly looked up, his gaze piercing directly into the spot where I was floating. “Hazel, you’re definitely laughing at me right now.” My eyes went wide. “Bullshit, I am mothering you.” 2 Knox and I were high school classmates, but back then, we were absolute mortal enemies. He was ranked first in our grade. I was ranked second. Every single exam, I would lose to him by a agonizing margin of just a few points. I was highly competitive since childhood, always praised as the golden child by everyone’s parents. But the moment I entered high school and collided with Knox, I became the eternal runner-up. It was the greatest humiliation of my life. So, I made it my mission to battle him in absolutely everything. That dynamic carried over into college until one day, out of nowhere, he cornered me and asked, “Hazel, do you want a taste of being number one?” I narrowed my eyes. “How?” I genuinely thought he was going to share some secret study technique with me. Who knew he meant the literal taste of it. But if I’m being completely honest, the taste wasn’t bad at all. From that day on, the world gained another fiercely competitive, enemies-to-lovers couple. As my mind swam in memories, Knox suddenly stood up, inadvertently raising my field of vision since I was still piggybacking on him. I have to say, the air up here was pretty nice. He touched my tombstone. The gesture was as gentle as if he were stroking my hair. His tone was terribly lonely. “Hazel, are you mad that it took me this long to finally come see you?” “Hell yeah I am. If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve forgotten you even existed. Where the hell have you been for ten years?” I floated just above his head, resting my hands on my hips. He let out a self-deprecating laugh and muttered something under his breath. I didn’t catch the whole sentence, just the faint outline of a few words. “…coming… to join you soon…” My non-existent heart dropped. I immediately floated down from his head and grabbed his shoulders. “Knox, absolutely not. I might be dead, but you need to live a good, long life for the both of us.” His deep, dark eyes stared straight ahead, looking right through me. In that split second, I felt my dead heart kickstart back to life. How else could I explain the sudden nervous flutter in my stomach just from his gaze? I drifted to the side and followed his line of sight. He was just looking at a purple butterfly. Snapping out of his daze, he started pulling more snacks out of the bag, arranging them in a perfectly neat line in front of my headstone. “Hazel, even if you’re dead, you need to eat well. Don’t let yourself go hungry.” He patted the cold stone. I nodded, looking at him with deep approval. “Good boy. You learned well. These are all my favorites.” “I’m leaving now. I’ll come see you again soon.” He smiled, brushing his thumb lovingly over the engraved photo on my stone, and turned to walk away. I frantically rushed in front of him. “Hold on, don’t leave yet. Explain what you meant about coming to join me!” But he couldn’t see me, and he walked right through my translucent body. I spun around in absolute panic, wanting to chase him but terrifyingly aware of the rules. Ever since I died, I had been bound to my grave. The maximum distance I could travel was fifty meters. Whenever new ghosts arrived at the cemetery, I couldn’t even go over to gossip with them. I had to wait for them to wander into my zone. But watching his broad back get further and further away, I stopped caring about the rules. Whatever. If I get violently yanked back by the invisible tether, so be it. I braced myself and chased after him. Fifty meters. Sixty meters. Wait. I was fine! I floated right next to Knox, suddenly realizing the air around me smelled amazing. Even though I didn’t actually need to breathe. I matched his pace, grinning from ear to ear. “Knox, you really are my lucky charm. You show up one time, and my invisible leash snaps. You’re basically a miracle worker.” His walking pace suddenly quickened, and he muttered under his breath, “Why does it feel like there’s a freezing draft right next to me?” I burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. I couldn’t believe it. After all these years, this heavily tattooed badass was still terrified of ghosts. Whenever we watched horror movies in the past, he would shrink down and hide his face against my chest like a terrified little bird. It always made my protective instincts go into overdrive. 3 At one o’clock in the afternoon, I followed Knox into his apartment. I had fully expected to walk into a chaotic, disgusting bachelor pad. Instead, I was staring at an incredibly clean, minimalist space. Was this really the apartment of the same Knox who used to leave his socks everywhere? Knox immediately pulled his t-shirt over his head, tossing it aside as he opened the fridge to grab a cold Coke. While I shamelessly drooled over his perfectly sculpted abs, I muttered my complaints. “Knox, I know your body is a literal feast for the eyes, but how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t strip the second you walk indoors. You’ll catch a cold.” A bead of sweat slid slowly down the deep V of his abs. I wiped a non-existent line of drool from my mouth and sneakily reached out to trace the sweat drop. Right as my spectral fingers brushed against him, he reached up and aggressively wiped the sweat away himself. I yanked my hand back instantly, staring at him with a wildly guilty conscience. I knew perfectly well he couldn’t see me, but even ghosts have a sense of shame. If other spirits caught me doing this, I’d be the laughingstock of the underworld. After finishing his Coke, he headed straight for the bathroom. Now that I could walk through walls, the temptation was real. But spying on him in the shower was crossing a line. I was a ghost with morals. Forty minutes later, I stared at the locked bathroom door, my anxiety spiking. What the hell was taking so long? In the past, his showers never lasted more than twenty minutes. Why was he taking forever today? Could he be… Committing suicide in the tub? The moment that dark thought entered my head, it took root. The panic spiraled out of control. I couldn’t wait any longer. I phased right through the heavy wooden door. The first thing I saw was a horrifying swirl of crimson water pooling on the tiles. Oh god. He really did it. I rushed toward him, terrified he was bleeding out on the cold floor. But when I reached him, I found him fully dressed in a soft pair of sweatpants, his hair dripping wet. Blood was pouring rapidly out of his nose. The reason the floor looked like a murder scene was because the blood had dripped into the wet puddles from his shower, diluting and spreading everywhere. Seeing that, my heart finally dropped back into my chest. Without thinking, I grabbed a wad of toilet paper from the roll and held it right up to his face. Knox froze. He turned completely rigid. I frowned. Why was he acting paralyzed? Confused, I waved the toilet paper directly in front of his eyes. His pupils dilated in absolute, unadulterated horror as he stared at the floating wad of paper. A few seconds later, he scrambled backward, trying to bolt for the door. I panicked and chased after him. “Why are you running? Take the paper! Your nose is bleeding a river!” The sheer terror in his eyes intensified. He slipped on the wet tiles and crashed hard onto the floor. I rushed forward with the paper to help him up, but he scrambled out of the bathroom on his hands and knees, bolting toward the living room. I followed him out, still holding the paper out like a peace offering. This idiot was leaving a trail of blood drops all over his pristine hardwood floors. Didn’t he realize he needed to plug it? He suddenly threw a hand up in front of his face, squeezed his eyes shut, and yelled, “I… I’m warning you!” Huh? Warning me? “If you come… come any closer, I’ll scream!” He shrank back into the corner of the sofa, his entire large frame trembling violently. It finally clicked in my head. Right. To him, this must look like a wad of toilet paper miraculously detached itself from the roll, floated up to his face, and was now aggressively chasing him around his apartment. Realizing this, the chaotic, evil side of my personality completely took over. A wicked smirk spread across my face. I pinched the toilet paper and floated even closer to his face. He kept his eyes squeezed tight, aggressively muttering under his breath. I leaned in to hear him properly. “Our Father who art in heaven, save me from the evil spirits, Hail Mary, Buddha, whoever is listening…” Good lord. He was just speed-running through every religion hoping one of them had jurisdiction over his living room. Too bad none of them worked on me. Smiling brightly, I rolled the paper into a tight little cylinder and forcefully jammed it right up his bleeding nostril. Perfect. I hadn’t lost my sniper-level accuracy. Feeling the physical impact, Knox stopped his frantic praying. He cracked one eye open and peeked nervously in my general direction. Since he already knew a supernatural entity was in the room, there was no point in hiding. While ghosts generally can’t touch living humans, we can interact with small, light objects. I grabbed his smartphone off the coffee table, punched in his passcode from memory, opened the Notes app, and started typing furiously. Knox stared in absolute shock at the empty space where I was sitting. His lips parted, then closed again. Finally, in a very small, very polite voice, he asked, “Could you please give my phone back?” I ignored him and kept typing. Seeing me ignore him, he didn’t dare say another word. This six-foot-two, heavily tattooed man sat perfectly upright on the edge of the sofa, his posture as stiff as a board. When I finished, I held the glowing screen right up to his face.

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I couldn’t sleep last night, so I was mindlessly scrolling through short videos on my phone. I stumbled upon a trending question: “Just how much damage can a man’s unforgettable first love do?” Right there in the top comments was my boyfriend’s reply. “She was just diagnosed with terminal cancer. But all I can think about is how glad I am that she isn’t her.” Well. That was awkward. Especially since my cancer turned out to be a misdiagnosis. 1 The day I walked out of the hospital clutching a terminal cancer diagnosis, Sebastian was still throwing a tantrum because I hadn’t delivered breakfast to him after his night of heavy drinking. I had been with Sebastian for three years. For three years, I had been the perfect, compliant girlfriend. I worked like a dog, swallowed my pride, and never uttered a single word of complaint. He would get wasted at some exclusive club, call me in the dead of night, and demand I bring him a bowl of homemade soup. And when I rushed over to deliver it, he would toss it straight into the trash without blinking. Then he would turn to his wealthy friends and smirk. “Told you she’d come crawling. Pay up.” When he was caught flirting with other women, he would force me to step in, use my status as his official girlfriend, and clean up his mess. Afterward, he would brag to his inner circle. “As long as Stella stays this obedient, I might just let her stick around.” Yes. Sebastian was the most notorious playboy in our social circle. He was young, insanely wealthy, drop-dead gorgeous, and knew exactly how to play the game. Rumor had it he was incredible in bed, too. He was adored in this elite world. During our time together, practically every other month I would get a phone call from some socialite demanding I step down and make room for her. The only reason I managed to stay by his side for so long was pure, unadulterated obedience. And the fact that I looked exactly like his first love. Over the years, I had heard the tragic tale of his “white moonlight” from countless gossiping mouths. They were childhood sweethearts. Families of equal status. The ultimate first love trope. If tragedy hadn’t struck, they would have walked down the aisle and merged their empires. But right before their engagement, her family abruptly declared bankruptcy. The arranged marriage was instantly canceled by Sebastian’s ruthless father. Heartbroken, the girl fled to Europe and never looked back. Every time Sebastian paraded a new woman around, someone would maliciously recount this story to me. My ears were practically callous from hearing it. They were reminding me of my place. I was just a cheap stand-in. I was no different from the rest of his disposable toys. Even Sebastian’s friends constantly told me I should be counting my lucky stars just to breathe the same air as him. Usually, I had the patience to stroke Sebastian’s massive ego. But I thought I was dying. I had zero patience left for his toxic games. When he called to complain about breakfast, I snapped. “I don’t have time today. Buy your own damn food.” He clearly hadn’t expected me to talk back. He froze for a second. “You want me to buy takeout? You know my stomach is a mess, and you’re telling me to eat garbage?” Suddenly, the whole charade felt incredibly exhausting. “If your stomach hurts, go see a doctor. I’m not a physician. What the hell is calling me going to do?” I hung up immediately and blocked his number. A massive wave of relief washed over me. Three days ago, I received a phone call from across the Atlantic. It was Sebastian’s legendary first love. She told me she was flying back. My mission was over. Everyone thought my three years of enduring Sebastian’s sadistic mood swings was because I was desperately, hopelessly in love with him. They were wrong. Molly had paid me three million dollars to buy three years of my life. Molly. Sebastian’s untouchable first love. 2 Nobody knew the real reason I took Molly’s three million dollars. I had a younger brother whose kidneys were failing. He was dying. Our parents had died in a horrific car crash when I was very young. For years, I juggled multiple minimum-wage jobs while going to school, desperately trying to keep my brother, Toby, fed and clothed. He was eight years younger than me. When he was little, he would rest his chin on my shoulder and whisper softly. “Stella, I’m going to grow up fast.” “When I get big, I’m going to buy you a closet full of beautiful dresses.” He was always such a good kid. He studied hard, stayed out of trouble, and grew from a tiny toddler into a handsome, six-foot-tall young man. Even when he was confined to a hospital bed, his face pale and sickly after grueling dialysis sessions, he would still hold my hand. He would tell me over and over again. “Stella, Sebastian is a bad person. You need to leave him.” I would stroke his hair and lie through my teeth. I told him it was fine. I told him Sebastian was just a little immature, but he was a good guy deep down. Toby would just look at me and silently cry. He told me he was nothing but a burden. He said he had been dragging me down since he was born. I wanted to shake him. I wanted to tell him that my Toby was never a burden. He was my only anchor in this brutal world. People need an anchor to survive. But then I lost him. I watched helplessly as the boy I raised was reduced to an urn small enough to hold in my hands. My only tether to this world was gone. The day the doctor told me I needed to be hospitalized for my own failing health, Sebastian’s first love touched down at the international airport. It was treated like a royal homecoming. A mutual friend screenshotted Sebastian’s Instagram story for me. It was a photo of the two of them. Molly looked breathtaking in a white designer dress, stepping out of the private terminal with a massive bouquet of roses pressed to her chest. She looked elegant, wealthy, and flawless. The caption read: “Finally.” The comments were flooded with his elite friends kissing their feet. Sebastian actually seemed to care about Molly. He wiped his social media completely clean of his playboy past. He curated his image to look like a devoted man who had spent years waiting for his true love to return. If he hadn’t used a burner phone to text me at two in the morning, I might have actually believed he had changed. The text read: “Stella, if you behave and crawl back, I’ll pretend your little tantrum never happened.” I blocked that number too. What a piece of trash. Three years ago, just days after Toby was admitted to the ICU, a mountain of medical debt threatened to bury me alive. That was when Molly found me online. She offered me a deal. If I agreed to act as Sebastian’s girlfriend, report his every move to her, and keep him occupied until she returned, she would wire me three million dollars. I agreed in a heartbeat. That money was Toby’s lifeline. My logic was beautifully simple back then. I just wanted the cash to cure Toby, and then we would vanish together. God only knows how exhausting it was to play the submissive, sweet girlfriend for three years. There were so many days I fantasized about kicking Sebastian down a flight of stairs. I finally held out until Molly returned. The moment I tasted freedom, the air had never felt sweeter. Go back to him? He could rot in hell. 3 I didn’t check into the hospital. The doctor warned me that without immediate treatment, I wouldn’t have much time left. I still didn’t go. I remembered the sheer agony Toby endured on that sterile bed. I was terrified. He had always hated pain. I still didn’t know how he survived those brutal dialysis sessions. I hated pain too. But more than that, I was terrified of waking up screaming in the middle of the night with no one there to hold my hand. I took the remaining money from Molly’s payment and opened a tiny coffee shop. Over the years, I had worked countless odd jobs to keep Toby alive. Being a barista was one of them. Toby always loved the coffee I made. Lying in the hospital, pale as a ghost, he used to smile and promise me that when he got better, he would work three jobs, save up, and open a café just for me. He said he would be my loyal waiter. He never made it to that day. Now it was just me, alone in this little shop. Business wasn’t booming, but it was enough to keep the lights on. Right before closing on a Friday, a massive corporate order came in. One hundred artisanal coffees. I smiled so hard my cheeks ached. I worked like a machine, terrified that if I was a minute late, they would cancel the order. But when I arrived at the delivery address and saw Sebastian standing in the penthouse lobby, I turned on my heel to leave. To hell with this money. Sebastian stepped into my path, tilting his perfectly sculpted jaw. “Stella, are you done throwing your little fit?” He narrowed his dark eyes, radiating arrogance. “Do not push my boundaries. If you come back to my apartment right now, I will let this slide. Even though Molly is back, I’ll allow you to stay by my side.” He spoke slowly, his tone dripping with condescension. He genuinely believed he was offering me the charity of a lifetime. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I ripped the lid off a cup and hurled the scorching coffee directly into his smug face. “Are you out of your psychotic mind?! Go see a psychiatrist!” “These past three years with you have been a living nightmare. Do you actually think you’re God’s gift to women?” “Sebastian, looking at your face makes me physically nauseous!” “What a waste. You just ruined a perfectly good cup of coffee!” God. Molly never mentioned I would have to deal with post-sale customer service when I signed that contract. Sebastian was completely stunned. He stood frozen, espresso dripping from his expensive hair onto his designer suit. He couldn’t compute what had just happened. It made sense. For three years, I had been completely docile. If he told me to walk east, I never looked west. If he demanded I jump off a yacht into freezing water just for his amusement, I did it without hesitation. My dedication to the role was unmatched. He wiped his face, his eyes turning slightly red with frustration. “You were never like this.” “I just want things to go back to how they were.” I understood exactly what this was. Asking this arrogant billionaire to show weakness was like asking him to cut off his own arm. But why the hell should I care? I tossed the empty cup into a nearby trash can. “How they were? You mean playing the role of your pathetic, obedient dog?” “Sorry to break it to you. I’m resigning from that position.” I didn’t wait for a response. I walked out to my delivery van and drove away. In my rearview mirror, I could see him standing frozen in the plaza. He looked like a proud, majestic lion that had just been brutally beaten. I let out a cold, mocking laugh. I knew Sebastian better than anyone. Showing up today was just another one of his sick little games. I wondered how much money he and his frat-boy friends had bet on this outcome. None of it mattered to me anymore. I only cared about what his next move would be. Because right now, he was dancing exactly to the tune I was playing.

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My boyfriend’s half-Russian brother never liked me. But while his older brother was away on a business trip, the younger twin dyed his golden-brown hair pitch black, showed up at my door in the dead of night, and tried to seduce me. He wanted to prove just how shallow I was, assuming I wouldn’t even be able to tell them apart. I looked at the 6-foot-2, hard-muscled college athlete standing outside my door and plastered a look of pure surprise on my face. I pointed toward a package, hinting at the kinky outfit Victor had always flat-out refused to wear for me. “Victor, babe, the stuff you bought just arrived.” “Did you plan this on purpose? You have to wear it for me tonight, okay?” Felix maintained his brother’s signature ice-cold expression, but a flicker of sheer panic betrayed his blue eyes. “I… bought this?” 1 “Yeah, and you also got…” I blinked, looking at him with feigned confusion. “Don’t you usually love playing these games with me?” “Why are you acting so weird today?” Felix clearly hadn’t prepared for this. He probably never imagined that his aloof, untouchable CEO brother was into such twisted bedroom games in private. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. He swallowed hard and decided to commit to the bit. “I do like… this stuff. I’m just a little surprised you’re being so forward tonight, baby.” “Since you came all this way to surprise me, I obviously have to return the favor.” Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, I shoved him toward the walk-in closet. “Hurry up and change. I’ll be waiting.” Fifteen minutes later, the closet door clicked open. My eyes immediately lit up. I had to admit, Felix’s physique was just as sculpted as his brother’s. His hard pecs and defined abs looked incredibly sinful pressing against the sheer, black mesh fabric. His naturally pale face was flushed violently red all the way to the tips of his ears. He couldn’t even bring himself to meet my eyes. “Ahem. So, does it look the same as usual?” I knew he was secretly recording this, so I deliberately ignored his question. Leaning in close to his ear, I whispered in my softest voice, “You are being such a good boy for me today.” Felix let out a muffled groan, his entire body going rigid in an instant. I smirked. With a swift click, I locked his wrists into the padded cuffs. “What are you doing?” Felix was genuinely stunned now. “Didn’t you always say this is how you like it best?” Before he could process that, I quickly discovered that the twins were equally, incredibly gifted in certain departments. I let out a soft, breathy laugh. “You really didn’t lie to me, babe…” The corners of Felix’s eyes were burning red. He interrupted me in a complete panic. “Ba… baby, can we pause for a second? I’m not feeling too well today.” I raised an eyebrow. He was already in this deep, and he still refused to confess and apologize? Then he couldn’t blame me for taking my revenge all the way to the finish line. “What hurts? You feel exactly the same as usual…” Before I could even finish my sentence, his lips crashed down, silencing me completely. 2 The next day, I slept until nearly noon, waking up with my entire body feeling sore and delightfully weak. The other side of the bed was, of course, empty. The thought of Felix fleeing at the crack of dawn, totally unaware that his brother and I had actually already broken up, made me want to laugh out loud. I took a moment to savor the memory of his flushed, desperate expressions from last night. Thinking of Victor, I suddenly remembered that right after I sent him the breakup text yesterday, Felix had shown up before I even got a reply. I reached for my phone on the nightstand. Swiping the screen unlocked it, and my heart skipped a beat. There were over a hundred unread notifications crowding the screen. Almost all of them were from Victor. [Sienna, what the hell do you mean, break up? Are you playing hard to get?] [This tactic won’t work on me. I’m busy. I don’t have time for these childish games.] [It’s been ten minutes. Why aren’t you replying?] … [Baby, I’m booking a flight back right now. We’ll talk face to face, okay?] [Missed FaceTime call] x 10 [Why won’t you answer my calls?] [I do not accept this breakup. Baby, please just talk to me.] And then another massive wall of missed video calls. 3 I stared at the screen, utterly shocked. This manic, obsessive text bombing was completely out of character for the usually composed, icy Victor Kensington. Even back when we were at Stanford, Victor was famously unapproachable. Anyone who tried to get close was met with a freezing, “Not interested. I don’t do relationships.” That changed a year after graduation. To rebel against his family’s arranged marriage plans, Victor needed a smart, cooperative fake girlfriend. I had worked with him on an AI project under the same professor, and since I was currently consulting for his tech firm, I became the perfect candidate. In the beginning, I admit I had my own romantic fantasies about him. But reality set in quickly. Whenever Victor took me back to the suffocating environment of the Kensington estate, he would act incredibly affectionate, calling me “baby” just to put on a show for his father and Felix. But in private, his texts and conversations were always just a few cold, sterile words. On special occasions, he just had his assistant buy me some random limited-edition bag from a luxury brand. No warmth. Just clinical detachment. The only time he wasn’t cold was when we were in bed. But trying to get him to do what I tricked Felix into doing last night? Impossible. “This kind of trash is for a lapdog. What the hell do you take me for?” he had growled that night, his voice dark and rough as he punished me for the suggestion well into the early morning hours. 4 Lately, Victor had crossed the line. Before this New York trip, he ghosted me for half a month. When he finally reappeared, he offered zero explanations and actively avoided me. Who could endure that kind of freezing out? So, after a lot of painful thinking, I finally pulled the plug. I glanced down at the timestamps on Victor’s replies. The first one came exactly ten minutes after I sent the breakup text. That was weird. It was 10:00 AM in New York. Victor was supposed to be in a crucial, high-stakes board meeting all morning. Knowing his ruthless work ethic, he would never deal with personal drama during business hours. Felix knew this too, which was why he felt safe impersonating his brother to give me a “surprise” last night. So why did Victor not only reply, but completely lose his mind spamming me with calls? And this business trip was supposed to last at least two weeks. How could he possibly fly back right now just to talk? I frowned and typed back quickly. [Victor, we are breaking up, not getting a divorce.] [I don’t need your approval.] [And stop calling me baby. You’ve never treated me like one.] I hit send, then immediately blocked his number. That afternoon, I booked a spa day with my best friends, went shopping, and treated myself to an amazing dinner. My mood finally lifted. But the moment I walked up to my apartment, I found a very sulky, mixed-race puppy glaring at my door. Felix hadn’t dyed his hair back to golden-brown yet, but he had taken out the dark contacts, revealing his piercing, ocean-blue eyes. He had ditched the tailored dress shirt for a black oversized hoodie and dark cargo pants. The difference in their auras was instantly obvious. I felt a sudden rush of amusement and let a small smile touch my lips. “Felix? What are you doing here? Didn’t you know your brother is on a business trip?” 5 Felix’s blue eyes looked ready to shoot fire. The second I opened the door, he pushed inside, backing me against the entryway console. “Cut the act, Sienna. You knew it wasn’t my brother last night, didn’t you?” I let out a soft snort of laughter. “So what if I did? Weren’t you the one who showed up at my door to seduce me?” Felix’s face flushed a deep crimson. “I didn’t plan for that to happen! And you tricked me into wearing that sick outfit! I betrayed my brother, but do you honestly think you’re innocent in this?” Seeing him look like he was going to die of guilt was satisfying enough. I decided I had tortured him enough and hummed lightly. “Your brother and I already broke up. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have even let you inside.” Felix froze. A spark lit up in his eyes, quickly followed by a storm of conflicting emotions. “Broke up? When did…” Right on cue, my phone started buzzing in my purse. I glanced at the screen, immediately pushed him aside, and answered. It was the HR department at Apex Ventures. The recruiter was calling to ask if I could onboard early, mentioning that the senior partners were highly impressed with me and wanted me on a massive new project immediately. I cheerfully agreed and hung up, only to find Felix staring at me with an even more complex expression. “You… got an offer from Apex? That’s one of the most brutal VC firms on Wall Street.” “I heard the workload there destroys people.” I raised an eyebrow, putting the pieces together. The last time I visited my old Stanford professor, Felix must have overheard our conversation. He always assumed my networking was just a desperate attempt to get a glowing recommendation so I could secure my spot in the wealthy Kensington family. He thought I was a gold digger. That’s why he despised me and constantly told his brother to dump me. “Listen, pretty boy. I didn’t bust my ass to get into an Ivy League school and graduate top of my class just to marry into old money.” “I have my own career ambitions. I’m not a billionaire heir like you, so when I need to bow my head to get ahead, I do it.” My sharp sarcasm made Felix look thoroughly ashamed, yet the blue of his eyes somehow burned even brighter. He cleared his throat softly. “My brother’s… Sienna, I’m sorry. I completely misunderstood you before.” “So, if you and my brother are really over… would you consider me?” 6 I looked up in genuine surprise. Felix was gazing down at me, his blue eyes incredibly intense and burning with raw heat. With a face that looked like it belonged on a Renaissance statue and a lean, athletic 6-foot-2 frame, claiming I wasn’t tempted would be a total lie. Besides, didn’t everyone say the best way to get over a man was to get under a new one? Forgetting Victor wasn’t going to be easy, and high-quality rebounds like this didn’t exactly fall from the sky. “You took my first time. You have to take responsibility for me.” When I didn’t answer immediately, Felix let out a pathetic little sigh, blinking his thick lashes as he leaned in to whisper seductively. “I’ll wear whatever you want me to wear. I’ll even wear the… the collar, if you want.” “I bet my brother never wanted to wear that for you, right?” “Besides, you really loved it last night, didn’t you?” …He wasn’t wrong. The puppy was inexperienced, but he was undeniably passionate. “I’ll consider it. But given your horrible prejudice against me in the past…” I paused deliberately. “You’re on a one-month probation.” That night, Felix shamelessly begged his way into my bed to undergo a very thorough “probationary review.” A nineteen-year-old college athlete possessed an absolutely terrifying amount of stamina. He was like an overpowered machine that simply refused to shut down. By the time he finally carried me to the bathroom to wash up, it was the middle of the night. I forced my heavy eyes open to check my phone and saw dozens of missed calls from Victor’s alternate numbers. But my body was too exhausted and entirely hollowed out. Before I could even form a coherent thought, I passed out. The next morning, Felix reluctantly dragged himself out of bed to go to his classes. That evening, he showed up at my door carrying an armful of beautifully wrapped gift boxes. “Sienna, this is my peace offering. An apology for all the times I was rude to you.” I thought back to the last two years, remembering how he used to scowl every time Victor forced him to acknowledge my presence at family dinners. I accepted the gifts without an ounce of guilt. “No more giving me attitude.” On the third day, Felix took me out for a romantic dinner and a late-night drive. I had no idea this boy could be so intensely clingy in a relationship. He was sickeningly sweet the entire time. That sugary high lasted right up until we walked back to my apartment and unlocked the door. Felix froze dead in his tracks. “Brother?”

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They called Kate an angel. When I, the long-lost heir, was dying, she saved me. No one knew she’d signed the organ donation papers. The surgery worked; I lived. But Kate was destroyed. Complications and depression consumed her, and she withered away. The house grew cold. Mother wept constantly; Father’s sighs deepened. I became the unwelcome ghost in the Harrington estate, my survival a glaring accusation. Then I heard Father’s choked confession: “We saved Sierra, but it cost Kate everything. What is the point of Sierra even being alive?” Paul’s icy glare cut deeper. “Don’t touch her. How dare you stand in the same room as Kate?” I opened my desk drawer. There lay the proof: Kate’s donation agreement, and the blank form I had prepared for myself. I once thought giving it back would be enough. Now I understood. A soul saved by an angel doesn’t deserve the sun. Every breath I took stole the light from her. This family needed Kate. They never needed me. I shut the drawer—and with it, the door to my heart they never truly opened. 1 I never realized the hallways of a hospital could feel this freezing. The corridor stretched out long and empty. The harsh, sterile lights illuminated every corner, leaving nowhere to hide. I gripped the organ donation form, my knuckles turning a pale, translucent white. “Sierra Harrington?” the nurse’s voice crackled through the intercom, utterly devoid of emotion. I stood up. The few steps to the consultation room felt like walking barefoot on shattered glass. The doctor was a middle-aged man with kind, tired eyes. He took the paperwork, scanned it, and looked up at me. “Your condition has progressed this far? It is a tragedy. You young people never take care of yourselves. A few more routine checkups and we could have caught this early.” “Doctor, I need to ask about the donation process.” My voice was terrifyingly calm. “I want to donate after I pass. Everything that is viable. I want it all to go to her.” His gaze sharpened instantly. “To who?” “Kate Harrington.” The name left a bitter taste on my tongue. He flipped through the forms, his frown deepening. “A relative? Then why aren’t your family members here to co-sign? We need informed consent from next of kin.” “I don’t have any family.” The words scraped against my throat like razor blades. “I am an orphan.” I quickly added another lie. “I am not biologically related to her. I just heard she was very sick.” The doctor stared at me for a long time. The silence stretched so thin I thought he was going to flat-out refuse. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, pulled a pen from his pocket, and tapped a line on the consent form. “You will need to sign here. And initial these risk disclosure pages.” I took the pen. When the ink met the paper, my hand did not shake at all. “Given your current vitals, if you opted for the surgical intervention, there might still be a glimmer of hope,” he offered softly, seemingly unable to watch a young life extinguish itself without a fight. “A glimmer of hope?” I whispered. I wondered if this was a test from God. If a surgery succeeded, I could forget the past, take my father’s money, leave the Harrington family behind, and start over in some quiet town. But if it failed, I would give every piece of myself to Kate. They all said I owed her my life. It was time to pay my debts. 2 “Okay. I will do the surgery. If there is a chance, who wouldn’t want to live?” I offered a self-deprecating smile. After scheduling the admission and the operation, I walked out of the clinic. My phone began to vibrate in my pocket. The screen lit up with the word Mom. My thumb hovered over the green accept button, but I couldn’t bring myself to press it. Eventually, the buzzing stopped. A text message popped up. Sierra, are you coming home for dinner this weekend? I stared at that single line of text until the screen went black. Then, slowly, I deleted the message letter by letter. The phone rang again. This time it was Paul. I answered. Before I could even breathe, his voice cut through the line, sharp and cold. “Where are you?” “Out,” I replied. “Kate is having a terrible mental health day. Her psychiatrist says it is a severe depressive episode triggered by the donation complications.” Paul’s voice was tight with suppressed anxiety. “Mom has been crying all afternoon. If you don’t have any actual business here, stay away this weekend.” I leaned my back against the freezing tiled wall of the hospital and closed my eyes. “Understood.” “What exactly do you understand?” Paul’s tone spiked with sudden venom. “Do you have any idea how much she sacrificed for you? She has to take seven different pills a day now. Two of them are heavy antidepressants. She used to be the brightest, happiest girl in the world. Now she is terrified of the sunlight hitting her window.” I murmured a quiet agreement. Paul practically yelled into the receiver. “You get to walk around perfectly healthy while she rots away! Sometimes I really just want to…” He cut himself off. But I knew exactly how that sentence ended. Sometimes he really wished Kate had let me die. “I am sorry,” I said. I had said those words so many times they had lost all meaning. The silence on the other end lasted so long I thought the call had dropped. When Paul finally spoke again, he just sounded utterly exhausted. “Forget it. Mom told me to ask you about the Kensington charity gala next week. Are you going? Kate might make an appearance. If you are there…” “I am not going,” I answered immediately. I heard a faint exhale of relief from his end, though his tone remained rigid. “I will have my assistant send a dress to your apartment anyway. You know how it is. Mom had Kate’s gown custom-made in Paris, so yours will be a bit simpler off the rack. Do not take it personally. This is what you owe her.” I didn’t reply. I ended the call and slowly slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor. The hospital tiles were like ice. The cold seeped through my clothes and buried itself deep in my bones. My phone buzzed one more time. A banking alert. Fifty thousand dollars. The memo line contained exactly three words. Take care, Dad. This was the third wire transfer this month. Richard always did this. He used wealth to spackle over the massive, unspeakable cracks in our family. It was as if the chime of a bank notification fulfilled his entire duty as a father. I forced myself to stand. My legs were numb. By the time I walked out through the sliding glass doors, it was dusk. The setting sun stained the sky a sickly, vibrant crimson. It looked like an open wound bleeding across the horizon. 3 I ate cheap takeout for three days straight. My phone lit up on the coffee table. A message in the Harrington family group chat from Eleanor. Kate agreed to go for a walk today! We only made it ten minutes, but it is a massive step forward! [Heart] [Heart] A cascade of celebratory emojis followed. Richard replied with a proud “Fantastic news.” Paul sent a row of digital fireworks. I stared at the glowing screen. My fingers hovered over the digital keyboard, but I typed nothing. I exited the chat and opened my files app. It was a scanned copy of the organ donation consent form I had finalized three days ago. My eyes locked onto the beneficiary line. Kate Harrington. Below it was a clinical checklist of harvested parts. Heart. Liver. Kidneys. Lungs. Corneas. It read like a menu for my own death. I locked my phone and shoved the paperwork into the deepest corner of my desk drawer, right next to the agreement Kate had signed a year ago. Two contracts. Two sacrifices. Two destinies swapping places. Outside, the sky turned pitch black. I stood up and began to clean the apartment. In truth, there wasn’t much to clean. I had been renting this place for barely six months, and my possessions were pitifully scarce. A few articles of clothing, a handful of books, some basic toiletries. When they brought me home from the foster system, I only had one small suitcase. I suppose I would be leaving the same way. On the desk sat a single framed photograph. It was the only picture I had of the entire family. We took it during my first month back at the estate. Eleanor had insisted on a portrait. In the picture, Richard and Paul stood in the back, their postures rigid and uncomfortable. Eleanor was in the center, her arms wrapped protectively around Kate, smiling with genuine warmth. And then there was me, standing on the far edge, looking like a stranger who had accidentally wandered into the frame. The Kate in the photo hadn’t gotten sick yet. Her eyes were bright, her lips curved into a beautiful, effortless smile. She wore a pristine white cashmere sweater that made her skin look like porcelain. I was wearing a cheap, ill-fitting red coat. Eleanor had pulled it out from the back of a closet at the last minute, mentioning it was something Kate bought years ago but never wore. “Red suits you,” Eleanor had told me before the photographer snapped the picture. But her eyes had never left Kate. I took the photograph out of its frame and placed it in the drawer with the medical documents. It was late. I lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The walls of the apartment were paper-thin. I could hear the couple next door arguing, a baby crying on the floor below, the distant hum of traffic on the wet asphalt. These sounds used to make me feel overwhelmingly lonely. Tonight, they brought me comfort. They were proof of life. They were the heartbeat of the world. And my own heartbeat was a rhythmic reminder that I was draining the life out of someone else. The thought wrapped around my throat like ivy, pulling tighter and tighter. I sat up, switched on the desk lamp, and began to write a letter. I wrote incredibly slowly. Every stroke of the pen carried an impossible weight. I didn’t have a formal will to draft. Just a few words I never had the courage to say out loud. When I finished, I folded the paper, slipped it into an envelope, and left the recipient blank. 4 On the evening of the Kensington gala, Paul called me again. “Are you absolutely sure you aren’t coming?” He sounded drained. “Mom still thinks you should make a brief appearance.” “Isn’t Kate going?” I asked softly. “If I am there, she will just feel anxious.” A heavy pause settled on the line. “Good that you know. Just order yourself something nice for dinner. Don’t eat garbage.” The concern felt abrupt, like a forced pleasantry he remembered at the last second. I offered a quiet agreement and ended the call. The evening shadows crept across the living room as the city skyline ignited with thousands of golden lights. I stood by the window, gazing at the metropolis I had lived in for twenty-three years but had never truly belonged to. At seven o’clock, my phone buzzed. It was Eleanor. I hesitated, but my thumb ultimately swiped right. Her voice came through slightly muffled. The background was alive with the clinking of champagne glasses and polite laughter. She was already at the venue. “Did you eat dinner yet?” “I made your favorite lemon ricotta ravioli and froze a batch in the top drawer of the freezer.” There was an artificial lightness to her tone, a desperate attempt to keep things casual. “You should swing by the house and grab them. We are all out for the night anyway. Boil them up for dinner. Stop eating takeout, it is terrible for your health.” My heart felt as though an invisible hand had gently squeezed it. She actually remembered that I loved lemon ricotta ravioli. I had casually mentioned it once during the holidays last year. I never expected her to commit it to memory. “Okay,” I whispered, my voice thick. “Take care of yourself,” Eleanor said briskly. “Once Kate stabilizes a bit more, you can move back to the estate. I have kept your bedroom exactly how you left it.” “Thank you, Mom,” I breathed. Someone called her name in the background. She muttered a rushed goodbye and the line went dead. I stood frozen in the middle of the room for a very long time. I was never going to retrieve that food. By nine o’clock, the gala would be in full swing. I slipped into a simple black slip dress and stood before the mirror. The dress was off-the-rack and poorly tailored. The shoulder straps hung loose, and the waist swallowed my figure. The girl staring back at me was deathly pale, with bruised purple shadows under her eyes. I unzipped my makeup bag and carefully applied a layer of foundation. It couldn’t mask the exhaustion, but it brought a deceptive flush of life to my skin. I chose a deep, vivid crimson lipstick. It was a bold, aggressive color. It felt like a final declaration. Then, I sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Waiting for the end was a strange sensation. There was no terror. Just a bottomless, profound tranquility. I felt like a drowning victim who had finally stopped thrashing against the current, allowing the dark water to pull me down into the quiet deep. At ten o’clock, I stood up and took one final look around the room. Spotless. Empty. Barely any proof that I had existed here at all. I walked to the desk, pulled open the drawer, and retrieved the medical documents. I looked at the letter, hesitated, and left it inside the drawer. I only took the clinical forms. When I walked out the door, I did not look back. The hospital was eerily silent at night. The fluorescent lights in the emergency wing hummed overhead, occasionally broken by the squeak of a nurse’s rubber shoes. I approached the triage desk. The night nurse glanced up. “How can I help you?” “I am here to be admitted.” My voice was so steady it frightened me. She typed away at her keyboard and gave a brief nod. “Sierra Harrington? Please follow me.” She guided me through a maze of corridors into a private prep room. The next morning, a different doctor entered the room. She was young, female, and wore an expression of intense gravity. “Ms. Harrington, are you absolutely certain you want to proceed with this surgical intervention?” she asked. “Even though you have signed the waivers, we must verbally confirm one last time.” “I am certain.” “And you truly have no family members to notify?” “No,” I replied softly. “I am an orphan.” The doctor hesitated, a flicker of sorrow in her eyes, before she nodded. “Please sign here. The nurses will begin your prep.” I signed the final paper. My hand remained perfectly still. When they moved me onto the operating table, the surgical lamps glared down at me, burning my eyes. The anesthesiologist, a gentle older man, leaned over and whispered, “Do not be afraid. Just close your eyes and take a deep sleep.” I was not afraid. I closed my eyes, and my life shattered into a kaleidoscope of fleeting memories. I remembered the rainy evening before I was kidnapped. Eleanor was holding my tiny hand, walking me home from kindergarten. She had tilted the umbrella so far over my head that her own shoulder was soaked. I remembered the years in the foster system. The cold houses, the screaming, the backbreaking chores. I learned later that they treated me like garbage because they knew I was a stolen child. I remembered the day the DNA results came back. Richard looked at me, and there was no joy in his eyes. Only confusion, and a microscopic trace of disappointment. I remembered the first time I met Kate. She was wearing a flowing white sundress, looking like a jasmine flower in the morning dew. She smiled and said, “Welcome home, big sister.” I remembered when she signed the organ donation papers. No one warned her the aftermath would destroy her mind and body. She had just smiled and said, “If one of my kidneys can save my sister, take it.” The anesthesia was flooding my veins. The world was dissolving into static. The final sound I heard was the sharp, panicked voice of the surgeon. “Vitals are crashing! The surgical intervention is failing. She is letting go. Prepare to pivot to the organ procurement protocol based on her advance directives.” Hearing those words, a single, crystal-clear thought bloomed in my fading mind. Now, I am giving it all back to you. Her blood, her love, her health, her future. My debts were finally paid in full.

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1 During the awards segment of the annual charity gala, the host suddenly walked onto the stage leading ten young children. “Tonight, we have a very special award recipient,” the host announced, his voice echoing through the ballroom. “She passed away in a tragic accident, but before she took her last breath, she donated all her organs, saving the lives of the ten children standing beside me today.” In the front row, Christian Collier kept his head down, staring at his phone. Hearing the host’s words, he did not even bother to look up. “Who would be stupid enough to chase fame even in death?” Beside him, Gideon Harrison, a man known throughout the city for his philanthropy, let out a soft sneer. “To be buried with an incomplete body means the soul can never rest in peace. Her family must have been incredibly heartless to allow it.” He turned to Christian, half-joking. “Christian, once you marry my sister, you better not let her lose a single hair, or I won’t let you off easily.” Christian offered a faint, dry smile. He turned to his secretary, whispering quietly, “Find out which family this donor belonged to. Cancel all our current and future business contracts with them immediately.” On stage, the host’s voice rang out once more. “Now, let us invite the donor’s fiancé to the stage to accept this honor on her behalf. Mr. Christian Collier, please.” The entire ballroom fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Every guest froze, their eyes turning in absolute disbelief toward the front row. The host, still smiling warmly, urged, “Mr. Collier, please come up to the stage. You are entirely deserving of this beautiful legacy of love.” As the shock wore off, hushed whispers began to ripple through the crowd. “The donor was the Collier heir’s fiancée?” “But isn’t the Collier family engaged to the Harrisons? That would mean the donor is Gideon’s sister, the Harrison heiress.” “I thought Gideon was incredibly traditional. How could he possibly allow his sister’s body to be harvested like that?” Every single word drifted straight into Christian’s ears. The cold indifference on his face shattered, piece by piece. He snapped his head up, his gaze cutting toward the host like a blade. “What absolute nonsense are you babbling?” His voice was cold, practically laced with ice. “My fiancée is alive and well.” Gideon stood up as well, his face pale and furious. “No one in the Harrison family has passed away. Think carefully before you speak another word!” Terrified by their reactions, the host took a step back, quickly looking down at his cue cards. He checked the document three or four times, cold sweat beaded on his forehead. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice trembling. “Mr. Collier, according to the official records, the donor was indeed your fiancée, the daughter of the Harrison family.” “Shut your mouth!” Gideon’s eyes were already rimmed with red. “My sister is currently in Europe on her graduation trip. She sent me photos just two days ago. How could she possibly…” Christian turned to the host, his eyes dark. “I am giving you one last chance. Tell the truth.” Gideon, growing increasingly frantic, grabbed Christian’s arm. “Christian, call Vivian. Call her right now. What if something actually happened to her?” Christian pulled out his phone and dialed Vivian’s number. The line rang. Once, twice, three times. No one answered. His heart began to sink, heavy and cold. Gideon was also dialing frantically, over and over, only to be met with the same empty ringing. Just as their faces began to drain of all color, the phone suddenly vibrated with an incoming call. Christian answered it instantly. “Vivian!” The screen lit up to reveal a young, pretty face. Vivian was rubbing her sleepy eyes, her hair a messy bird’s nest, clearly having just been woken up. She mumbled sleepily, “Christian? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night? Did you forget the time difference?” Gideon shoved his face into the camera’s view, his voice thick with panic. “Vivian, are you okay? You scared me to death!” “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Vivian blinked, a soft laugh escaping her. “I told you guys not to worry. It’s just a graduation trip!” Gideon breathed a massive sigh of relief, murmuring a few sweet promises before hanging up the call. Christian turned back to the host, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “Did you see that? My fiancée is perfectly fine. You will provide a formal apology to both the Colliers and the Harrisons for this sick joke.” The atmosphere in the room turned incredibly hostile. As the host stood frozen on stage, unsure of what to do, the oldest of the ten children, a young girl, timidly raised her hand. “It wasn’t that lady.” Everyone’s attention snapped to her. The girl bit her lip, whispering softly, “My dad showed me a photo of the lady who saved my life. Her name was Nora Harrison.” 2 The whispers in the room erupted like a sudden storm. “Nora? That name sounds familiar.” “Isn’t she the sister Gideon adopted a year ago?” “I heard a rumor that Nora and Vivian were switched at birth. Nora is actually the biological daughter.” “So Christian’s real fiancée was actually Nora?” I floated quietly behind Christian and Gideon, a bitter, hollow smile gracing my spectral lips. They were right. I was the biological daughter of the Harrison family, and by all rights, I was Christian’s true fiancée. Years ago, Vivian’s parents had intentionally switched us in our cribs. Vivian became the pampered princess of the Harrison family, raised in absolute luxury, while I spent eighteen years living a nightmare. My foster parents were abusive gamblers. Every time they lost, they took their anger out on me, using belts, burning cigarettes, and whatever else was within arm’s reach. I survived by digging through trash cans for scraps of food. Eventually, my foster father trapped me in my room, trying to assault me. I defended myself with a pair of scissors, wounding him, but they turned around and accused me of seduction. They beat me so severely I was nearly dead by the time the neighbors called the police. With the authorities involved, the truth of my birth was finally revealed, and I was brought back to the Harrison estate. I thought my misery had ended. But shortly after my return, both of my biological parents fell ill and passed away. My older brother, Gideon, blamed me entirely, believing I was a curse that had brought death to our parents. When Vivian packed her bags, weeping and saying she should leave now that the real daughter was back, Gideon’s resentment toward me reached its peak. He held her close, comforting her, before turning a cold, disgusted glare on me. “Vivian is my sister. Don’t even think about driving her out.” Gideon even dropped the charges against my abusive foster parents, paying them a massive settlement to secure Vivian’s legal status in the family. He never once asked how I had survived those eighteen years. I still remembered the icy indifference in his voice when he made his decision. “I’ve raised Vivian as my sister for nearly two decades. Revealing the truth now would destroy her. For now, we will tell the public that you are an adopted sister we took in.” Christian was the fiancé my parents had chosen for me in their will. But the first time he met me, I was wearing one of Vivian’s ill-fitting hand-me-downs, trembling as I greeted him. The sheer disappointment in his eyes was impossible to hide. I was consumed by insecurity, desperately throwing myself into learning etiquette, trying to become the perfect lady he wanted. But his gaze remained cool and detached. One afternoon, I overheard him speaking with Gideon. “I don’t know what our parents were thinking, forcing you to marry Nora,” Gideon had grumbled. “Everyone knows the only girl you love is Vivian.” Christian’s calm, level voice followed. “I will call off this engagement with Nora, no matter what it takes.” At that moment, my heart sank into a dark, bottomless ocean. Gideon didn’t want me, and Christian didn’t want me either. Now, hearing my name spoken aloud at the gala, Christian remained silent for a long time before offering a cold, indifferent response. “You have the wrong person. Nora Harrison was never my fiancée.” Gideon’s face went blank, followed quickly by a wave of deep disgust. “How could it possibly be her? She’d do anything to survive. Someone as selfish as her wouldn’t have the courage to die.” I was already a ghost, but my hollow chest still flared with a sharp, ghostly pain. Sensing the curiosity of the crowd, Gideon began to speak, exposing my supposed sins to the entire room. “On Vivian’s birthday, Nora threw a massive fit, demanding that Christian cancel his schedule to take her skiing. Christian had no choice but to go. While they were on the mountain, an avalanche hit. Christian’s leg was crushed, trapping him under the snow. And Nora…” He paused, his voice dripping with venom. “She ran away without looking back.” “If Vivian hadn’t arrived with a rescue team in time, Christian wouldn’t be standing here today.” Gideon’s voice grew even colder. “Nora spent all her time at home bullying Vivian, even though Vivian was always kind to her. She knew Christian loved Vivian, yet she clung to him out of spite. When he rejected her, she abandoned him to die in the snow and vanished. A person like that doesn’t deserve to be called my sister.” The host spoke up, hesitant. “So, you haven’t seen Miss Harrison since that incident?” 3 Gideon let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “She probably fled the country out of guilt. She knows what she did, and she’s too much of a coward to face us.” He added with deep disgust, “That’s just who she is: a coward who runs away when things get tough.” Christian said nothing. He leaned back in his chair, slowly closing his eyes. He remembered the moment the avalanche struck. His first instinct had been to shield Nora with his own body before the world collapsed around them. But when he finally woke up, she was gone. She had left him to die, exactly as Gideon said. All her sweet words, her gentle affection: they were all a lie. A sudden, sharp ache bloomed in Christian’s chest, and he clenched his fist, trying to push the feeling away. When Vivian had finally arrived with the rescue team, throwing herself into his arms and weeping, “Christian, I finally found you,” he had asked her, “Did you find the rescue team?” He had desperately hoped for a different answer. But Vivian had nodded, and the final spark of light in his eyes had gone out. “Never mind,” he had murmured. “It doesn’t matter.” He had looked at her with gentle affection. “Vivian, will you marry me?” The host’s voice broke his train of thought. “But have you ever considered that Miss Harrison didn’t run away? What if she died in that very avalanche?” The ballroom fell into a tense silence. The host continued, “Perhaps she didn’t abandon you. She might have realized that with your crushed leg, staying by your side meant you would both freeze to death. So she went out into the blizzard to find help, but met with an accident before she could return. Mr. Harrison, did you ever bother to investigate?” “What absolute garbage!” Gideon slammed his hand on the table, interrupting him in a fury. Christian merely stared at the host, his eyes cold. Floating above them, I could only manage a bitter laugh. Even a stranger could deduce the truth of my death, yet my own brother and fiancé refused to believe it. Before that ski trip, Christian had demanded to end our engagement. I had agreed, but on one condition: he had to spend Vivian’s birthday skiing with me. They all thought I was being unreasonable. But none of them remembered that Vivian’s birthday was also my birthday. I just wanted to be chosen, just once. When the avalanche buried him, I had clawed at the snow with my bare hands, digging until my fingers were shredded and frozen, completely losing all feeling, before I finally managed to pull him out. He was unconscious. I wrapped him in my coat and all my warm gear, leaving myself in nothing but a thin sweater, and walked out into the freezing storm. I walked for an entire day, collapsing and dragging myself up again and again, until I finally stumbled upon a rescue team. I gave them his coordinates. They told me to wait by the road while they went up. But less than ten minutes after they left, an out-of-control truck plowed into me. By the time I reached the hospital, it was too late. Before I took my last breath, I begged the doctors to harvest my organs, hoping that a piece of me could go on to see the spring I would never experience. The guests in the ballroom looked back and forth between Gideon and Christian, their belief wavering. If the host was right, then they had completely misjudged Nora. Gideon’s lips began to tremble, his confidence slipping. But Christian spoke up, his voice incredibly calm. “She isn’t dead.” Everyone turned to him. Christian raised his chin, his voice steady. “I have proof that Nora is alive.” Gideon turned to him, startled. Christian lowered his gaze, his voice dropping. “After she vanished, I received a letter from her.” 4 “In that letter, Nora explicitly stated she didn’t regret running away,” Christian continued, his voice dripping with cold mockery. “But she knew neither I nor the Harrison family would ever forgive her, so she planned to disappear forever. She promised never to bother me again, on one condition: I had to transfer five million dollars to her account. I sent the money.” Gideon’s face flushed with renewed rage. “We should have never brought her back to our family! She was a parasitic disgrace from start to finish!” Hearing this, the guests immediately turned their sympathy back to Christian, whispering insults about my memory. “This Nora was truly heartless!” “Five million dollars? She didn’t have a shred of shame!” “Honestly, she belongs in prison!” A barrage of ugly words rained down on my spirit. But on stage, the young girl spoke up once more, her voice trembling but fierce. “Don’t you dare speak about Nora like that!” Her eyes were red, her small body shaking with anger. She pointed to her own eyes. “My dad told me my corneas came from Nora. I can see this beautiful world because of her!” The other children began to step forward, their small voices rising in unison. “She gave me her kidney!” “She gave me her liver!” “Nora’s heart is beating right here, in my chest,” a young boy said, placing his small hand over his heart. “The doctor told me this heart belonged to a very, very kind girl. She was not a bad person!” Watching those ten children, seeing them healthy, alive, and full of hope because of my sacrifice, a soft, warm light seemed to wrap around my cold, spectral body. The crowd wavered once more, the children’s testimonies carrying far too much weight. Gideon clenched his fists, his lips shaking. Christian felt a sudden, suffocating pressure in his chest, as if a heavy stone were pressing down on his lungs. He forced himself to dismiss the feeling, his mind racing. Suddenly, a realization struck him. A confident, triumphant smile returned to Christian’s face. “Fine. If you all insist she is dead, then where is her body?” He scanned the room, his voice booming. “She only donated her organs. Her remains must be somewhere, right?” The children on stage looked at one another, their young faces blank with confusion. They didn’t know the answer. Christian let out a cold sneer. “There is no body. This entire story is a fabricated lie.” The room fell quiet, the tension stretching thin. Just then, the host’s phone buzzed with an incoming document. He tapped it open, his eyes widening in horror, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. He held up his phone, his voice shaking violently. “Wait… I know where Nora’s body is.”

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