Category: English

My nephew, Leo, used a nail to draw on a car, and the owner demanded compensation. My mom said, “He’s just a kid! What does he know? Why did she park there anyway? She deserved it!” When I tried to tell them they needed to discipline him seriously, they kicked me out of the house. On New Year’s Day, my nephew flipped over a boiling hot pot, and his actions finally led to a horrific tragedy. 1 I had just finished up at work and was planning to go see a movie. My mom called me. “Chloe! You’re friends with that lawyer guy, right? Hurry up and bring him to the parking lot at our apartment complex! I need to sue someone!” I could feel a vein throbbing in my forehead. “What happened?” It was chaotic on my mom’s end of the line, like she was in the middle of a screaming match. “Leo scratched a car, and this woman has the nerve to demand a thousand dollars from us! It’s just a tiny scratch, how could it cost a thousand dollars? This is extortion!” I rushed home as fast as I could. A crowd had gathered in the parking lot. My mom was standing right in the center, hands on her hips, occupying the most prominent spot. Beside her stood my nine-year-old nephew, Leo, looking completely unbothered and sporting a cheeky grin. When Leo saw me, he rolled his eyes. I took a deep breath and swallowed my annoyance. I pulled out my phone and asked the car owner for her payment app handle. “Miss, I’m so sorry. My nephew misbehaved, and I apologize for wasting your time. It was a thousand dollars, right? I’ll transfer it to you now…” The car owner was a young woman in her twenties, and she had already been reduced to tears by my mother’s screaming. Seeing a reasonable person finally arrive, she hurriedly pulled up her QR code. “I’m really not trying to extort you. The scratch might be small, but it goes right across two different panels. I asked the auto body shop, and to blend the paint properly, it really will cost over a thousand dollars.” I nodded and typed $1,500 into the payment screen. “The extra money is for your trouble and lost time.” Just as I was about to enter my PIN, my mom lunged forward and grabbed my hand. Her grip was like an iron vise, clamping down so hard I couldn’t move. “You stupid girl, do you have too much money burning a hole in your pocket?!” She then turned to threaten the young woman again. “If you want money, we don’t have any! Go ahead and sue us! But let me tell you something right now—this old lady lives in this complex. If a little girl like you wants to start trouble, I have all the time in the world to make your life a living hell!” The young woman clearly backed down. She was afraid that getting involved with someone like my mom would bring her endless, inescapable trouble. Her eyes darted around nervously, clearly wanting to just drop the issue and leave. I forcefully yanked my hand free from my mom’s grip and quickly typed in my PIN. Ding— The transfer went through. The young woman looked incredibly relieved, gave me a quick, grateful smile, hopped into her car, and sped off. Smack. A heavy slap landed on the back of my hand. “Do you have too much money to burn?! I never see you being this generous at home! You ungrateful brat!” During our struggle just now, she had scratched the back of my hand. Now, with the added slap, my entire hand was swollen and throbbing. “Mom! Leo scratched someone’s car. It’s only right that we pay for the damages. Can we please just be reasonable for once?” I was exhausted. The onlookers in the crowd also started chiming in. “Mrs. Miller, your daughter is right. When a kid makes a mistake, you have to apologize and pay for it. That’s just how it works.” My mom snapped back sharply. “He’s just a kid! What does he know? Who told her to park her car there? She deserved to get it scratched!” People started voicing their disagreement. “You can’t say that. The woman parked her car perfectly within the lines of the parking space. How is that parking illegally? Even if she was parked illegally, you call the towing company or the police. You don’t go and vandalize the car! What kind of behavior is that?” … My mom was clearly in the wrong, and she couldn’t out-argue a whole crowd of people. Her face turned pale with anger. She shot me a vicious glare. “I’ll deal with you when we get home!” With that, she turned and stormed off. Leo stuck his tongue out at me and made a face, then hopped and skipped after my mom as if nothing had happened. Seeing me walking in the direction of our apartment, Leo spread his arms and blocked my path. “My house is that way. You’re not allowed to go any further!” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with him, so I changed direction and kept walking. Seeing this, he stomped his foot down hard on my white sneakers. “I said you can’t go! I told you to listen to me! I’ll stomp on you!” My brand-new shoes instantly had ugly, dirty footprints all over them. “Leo! Do you want a spanking?!” I was furious. I grabbed him by the collar. “Apologize to me, and then wipe my shoes clean!” Leo scratched my hand viciously. I gasped in pain and let go of his collar. “Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah…” He made another ugly face at me. He didn’t show an ounce of remorse. My mom pulled Leo into her arms and praised him, “Kids are smart when they’re playful!” My temples throbbed. “Mom, get it straight. What is being playful, and what is being malicious?!” 2 My mom exploded instantly. “What do you mean, malicious?! You never have a good word to say! He’s just a little boy, how could he have any bad intentions?” “He’s nine years old! He’s not going to be a kid forever! If you don’t discipline him now, when he enters the real world, he’s going to cause an even bigger disaster and suffer much worse consequences!” “I don’t want to hear your twisted logic! Every time you see him, all you do is scold him, always saying he’s doing this wrong or that wrong. There is no aunt in the world like you.” Every time I brought up the issue of Leo’s discipline, my mom always twisted it into me being biased against him. Seeing me silenced, a smug snort escaped from Leo’s nose. My temper flared up. I lifted my foot and started walking toward the apartment. “I paid for part of this house too. Why shouldn’t I go in?” Leo flew into a helpless rage. He threw himself onto the ground, kicking and screaming, throwing a massive tantrum. “Don’t let her go! Don’t let her go! My mom said she’s coming to steal our house! Steal our house!” My mom hurriedly tried to coax him. “Leo, my sweet grandson, Grandma won’t let her go, I won’t let her go!” After she finished, she looked a bit awkward. “Don’t take what a kid says to heart. Your sister-in-law didn’t mean it like that. Leo is throwing a fit, so why don’t you just leave for now?” In that moment, it would be a lie to say I wasn’t hurt. Since I was little, because I was a girl, my parents didn’t value me. They dumped me with my grandparents to be raised. They always said daughters would eventually marry into other families, and they would have to rely on their son to take care of them in their old age. So, I worked twice as hard, trying to win their approval. After starting my career, my salary kept increasing. Last year, I married Liam, who came from a good family, which finally made my parents happy. Meanwhile, my brother lounged around all day doing nothing. He had zero income all year and relied entirely on my parents. My parents’ food and expenses for the entire year were all paid for by me. But even so, in their eyes, I was still inferior to the “male heir.” After being hurt time and time again, even I get tired. I remained silent for a long time. I don’t know what I finally gave up on, but suddenly, my body and mind felt incredibly light. I didn’t want to deal with this anymore, and I didn’t care anymore. My mom seemed to sense something was different. She said in a slightly fawning tone, “Chloe, in a few days Mom will make your favorite pickled vegetable pancakes, and I’ll call you to come home.” Actually, I didn’t like pickled vegetable pancakes. When I was little, I was often hungry. The elderly neighbor, Mrs. Smith, would occasionally give me a pickled vegetable pancake to eat. My mom just assumed I was greedy and asked for them myself. I gave her one look and said flatly. “I don’t like pickled vegetables. I like king crab. If there’s no emergency in the future, you don’t need to call me to come over. I’m busy with work.” After saying that, I didn’t care what she thought, I just turned and left. The $40,000 I provided to buy this apartment could be considered compensation for my parents raising me for the first twenty years of my life. Didn’t they want to rely on their son for their old age? Then for the rest of their lives, I won’t be participating. After that unpleasant parting, I actually enjoyed a period of peace and quiet. The next time I heard news about Leo, it was that he had been beaten and sent to the hospital. My mom choked back sobs. “Leo got beaten up, he’s in the hospital!” Me: “Oh.” My mom wailed, “That goddamn monster, a six-foot-tall grown man! One slap, and the kid got a concussion.” Me: “…What did Leo do?” Over the phone, my mom hemmed and hawed, refusing to say. I was a bit curious, so I went to the hospital. 3 When I got there, my mom grabbed my hand, crying and snotting all over it. “Hurry up and call your lawyer friend! We have to sue that goddamn son of a b***h until he’s bankrupt!” “If anything happens to Leo, I’ll fight him to the death!” “As his aunt, you have to get justice for him!” I calmly pulled my hand back. “First, tell me exactly what Leo did. I don’t believe someone would just hit him for no reason.” My mom mumbled, “Today at a restaurant, when a guy wasn’t looking, Leo peed in his beer bottle. The guy took a drink, thought it tasted weird, and Leo, that silly boy, laughed at him for drinking pee. The guy went crazy, jumped up, and hit the kid.” I was stunned. I asked in disbelief, “Did you not stop him?” My mom slapped her thigh, looking miserable. “How could I not try to stop him?! When Leo was getting hit, I risked my old life trying to grab him back!” I was furious. “I meant when he was peeing in the beer bottle! Why didn’t you stop him then?!” My mom looked completely unapologetic. “Why would I stop him?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “He peed in someone’s beer bottle! Pee!!! And you’re asking me why you should stop him?!” My mom’s expression hardened. “That guy wasn’t a good person anyway! He doesn’t own the restaurant, what right did he have to tell a kid not to run and jump around? Minding other people’s business, he deserved to drink pee.” My scalp tingled. I completely failed to comprehend her moral compass. Was she insane?! Seeing my reaction, my mom quickly said, “Go ask around, what kid isn’t mischievous like this? You can’t blame Leo for this! What are you standing there for? Hurry up and call your lawyer friend, ask him how much money we can get in compensation!” I felt my very soul trembling. “He deserved to get hit! Compensation my ass!” My mom got anxious. “What’s wrong with drinking a little boy’s pee? It’s not dirty! Some people even specially use little boys’ pee to boil tea eggs, it’s very nourishing.” I threw up right then and there. “Blegh!” It was too disgusting. Once I started throwing up, I couldn’t stop. My mom tried to help me up, but I swatted her hand away, backed away from her, and went to find a doctor to prescribe some medicine. The doctor suggested I take a test. After the test, I found out I was pregnant! No one could understand how wildly ecstatic I was in that moment. Having grown up starved for love, my greatest wish in life was to have my own family, a complete family. I quickly called my husband, Liam, who was away on a business trip. “Honey, I’m pregnant!” Liam was even more excited than I was. He gave me a ton of advice for pregnant women, told me to rest well, and promised over and over that he would finish his work as quickly as possible and come home to be with me. I nodded continuously, not caring that he couldn’t see me. During this time, my mom called me countless times. I didn’t answer a single one, just left the hospital and went straight home. What I didn’t expect was that my mom, unable to reach me, reached out her demonic claws to Liam instead. She opened her mouth and demanded that Liam, as the uncle, give her two thousand dollars for Leo’s “nutritional recovery.” I was furious and called her back immediately. “How can you be a mother like this? Do you think my husband’s family is your personal ATM? How could you even open your mouth to ask for two thousand dollars?” “You rotten girl, I wasted my time raising you! That day at the hospital, you left without saying a word, not a single word of concern for your nephew. Your heart has been eaten by dogs! Do you know how much Leo has suffered, and we haven’t gotten a single cent in medical bills?!” I felt a surge of vicious satisfaction. “That’s because he deserved to get hit! If you keep spoiling him like this, he’s going to suffer a lot more in the future.” My mom threatened me. “If you don’t care about Leo, I’ll go get the money from your husband. If he doesn’t give it to me, I’ll go make a scene at his workplace!” I was so angry I was grinding my teeth, tears shooting from my eyes. “If you have the guts, go right ahead and make a scene! Your daughter is pregnant now. If you cause me to divorce Liam over this, I’ll just move back into my maiden home with the baby. Don’t even try to kick me out; I paid for that apartment, so I own a piece of it. If you don’t let me live there, I’ll take you to court. We’ll see who has a harder time!” 4 My hand gripping the phone was shaking. I was genuinely afraid my mom would actually go cause a scene at Liam’s workplace. Some people have no shame, they don’t care about their reputation. If she did that, how would Liam ever show his face at work again? “You’re pregnant?” My mom was shocked. “That’s right.” After a long silence, she backed down. “Then come back home in a couple of days during the New Year holiday. I’ll make a little red blessing charm for the baby.” Giving a little red blessing charm to an unborn child is a tradition in my mom’s hometown. It symbolizes bringing peace and health to the baby. Even though I really didn’t want to see them, I truly wanted my unborn baby to receive the little red blessing charm, which represented good fortune. I emphasized, “I can come over, but I won’t be giving you any money.” My mom hung up the phone with a beep. Originally, we had agreed I would go pick up the charm on the afternoon of New Year’s Day. But Liam texted me early, saying he’d be home by the afternoon. So, I made a last-minute decision to go to my parents’ house in the morning, finish up quickly, and head home. Because of this, I eavesdropped on a shocking conspiracy at my parents’ house! On the morning of New Year’s Day, I went back to my parents’ house. After taking out my key and unlocking the door, I heard my mom and my sister-in-law, Jenna, talking through a slightly ajar bedroom door. Unlike their usual tone, this time, they kept their voices very low. Possessed by some strange urge, I crept closer and hid behind the door to eavesdrop. My Mom: “Dammit, that family refuses to pay! I heard that guy has been to prison, and when he goes crazy, he’ll hack people with a meat cleaver!” Sister-in-law: “Don’t mess with that guy. If he hurts Leo, we’ll regret it forever. Let Chloe’s husband pay for it; his family has money, might as well spend it. That ‘uncle’ title shouldn’t come for free.” My Mom: “I’m just afraid if we push too hard, he’ll divorce Chloe. What if Chloe comes running back here pregnant? Not only did we not get any money, but we’ll be stuck with that bad luck!” Sister-in-law: “I actually have an idea… it just depends on if you’re willing to be ruthless with your daughter.” My Mom: “Tell me.” Sister-in-law: “Give Chloe some abortion medicine. If she loses her own kid, she’ll definitely focus all her energy on raising her nephew. She’s still young, if she loses this one, she can always have another one later.” My Mom: “…” Sister-in-law: “In a couple of years, Leo will be in middle school, and there will be a lot of expenses. His dad is useless, we need to squeeze more out of the Hayes family. If Chloe has her own kid, why would she be willing to subsidize her maiden family? Only if her own seed is gone will she look at Leo and feel a connection. Who knows, she might even raise Leo like her own son.” My Mom: “…Alright, when Chloe comes over this afternoon, you boil her a bowl of saffron water. That stuff promotes blood circulation and removes blood stasis, it can cause a miscarriage. Later, if she asks about it, we can easily explain it away, just say we didn’t know the effects of that herb.” … I felt like a drowning fish. Even though I was surrounded by air, it felt thin, and breathing was difficult. I should thank my twenty-plus years of building willpower. It allowed me, in a state of out-of-body shock, to leave that hellhole silently, without making a single sound. Once I was out of the apartment complex, I practically ran, as if demons were chasing me. I quickly called Liam and burst into loud sobs. “Hurry home, hurry home.” Liam was frantic. “I’m almost home! Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.” When I saw him, I told him exactly what I had heard, not caring if he would be disgusted by my family. I was too broken! I knew my birth wasn’t welcomed, but I thought at least they still treated me like a human being! They didn’t. When they discussed eliminating my precious baby, it sounded as casual as talking about killing a chicken. The veins on Liam’s forehead bulged. He asked me if I wanted to vent this awful frustration. “Yes!” I nodded vigorously. “I don’t have a maiden family anymore. They’re gone. I only have enemies!” I let him hold me, crying uncontrollably. Liam moved quickly. Through some friends, he found a few experienced gamblers to get close to my brother, Richard, planning to set up a trap that would bankrupt him. 5 That afternoon, my mom called to complain. “We agreed you’d come home for lunch, where did you go? We made a whole table of food, and it’s all cold.” I could faintly hear Leo screaming in the background: “Don’t let her come to my house! If she dares to come, I’ll beat her out!” My emotions had stabilized. I played along with my mom. “I suddenly felt a little discomfort in my stomach, so I ran to the hospital. I can’t make it.” Her focus predictably shifted to my stomach. “Is there something wrong with the baby?” I fought down the surging hatred and, with infinite guilt toward my unborn child, said, “It’s not developing very well. I’m planning to find some time to abort it.” When I said those words, it felt like my heart was being stabbed a hundred times. I apologized to my baby over and over again in my mind. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, my precious baby. Please don’t blame Mommy for saying this. There are many ways to harm a pregnant woman. A push on the stairs, a trip on the street—both can be fatal. There’s a saying: “You can be a thief for a thousand days, but you can’t guard against a thief for a thousand days.” I had to use this lie to temporarily dispel their malicious intentions. My mom faked it perfectly. “Oh my, what a pity. Well, if that’s the case, you should go get the surgery done early. Waiting too long is bad for your health.” I tried my best to ignore the hint of joy in her voice and asked, “How’s my brother doing lately?” My mom sounded delighted. “Your brother went to play cards and won’t be back for lunch. He had a lucky streak today. He even called back earlier to say he won a few thousand dollars.” I smiled silently. “That’s good. Put Leo on the phone, I have a few words for him.” My mom didn’t suspect a thing and handed the phone over. “Leo, your aunt wants to talk to you.” “Hey!” Leo yelled. “If you have something to say, say it fast, if you have a fart, let it out!” Leo’s personality was incredibly egocentric. He wouldn’t even allow others to disobey him. If someone made him lose face, they really poked the hornet’s nest. I deliberately told him, “Auntie just wanted to advise you not to be so impulsive in the future. I ran into Mia from your class today. She heard you got slapped into the hospital and asked me if it was true. You see, your classmates care about you so much…” He violently spat out a curse: “You stupid b***h!” Then, the phone on the other end was heavily thrown. The sound of shattering plates and bowls echoed endlessly. My mom and sister-in-law’s panicked voices came through: “My sweet grandson, what are you doing?” “Quick, put the vase down, you can’t smash that, you can’t smash that…” I smiled and hung up the phone. Would a furious, humiliated Leo go looking for trouble with that big guy? Given his petty, vindictive nature, the answer was definitely yes. I waited to see him bring about his own destruction. That night, Liam and I had already fallen asleep when our phones suddenly started ringing jarringly. It wasn’t just my phone; even Liam’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing. My phone showed an incoming call from my mom, while his showed an unknown number. The relentless ringing seemed to foretell that something terrible had happened. We sat up, exchanged a glance, and he answered the unknown number. “Hello, who is this?” “Is this Mr. Hayes? This is the Spice Fire Hot Pot Restaurant! Someone in your family is severely injured, the ambulance is on its way right now. Please hurry over here immediately!” “What’s going on? Explain clearly.” “Beep, beep, beep—” The other side, perhaps because the scene was too chaotic or for some other reason, abruptly hung up. Seeing this, I answered my mom’s call and put it on speaker. “What happened? What exactly happened?” Judging from the previous phone call, something definitely happened over there, and it wasn’t a small thing. I just didn’t know who exactly was severely injured.

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The top student and the campus heartthrob became famous celebrities. On a variety show, he sang a song, saying it was dedicated to the girl he had a crush on in high school. I was sitting in a dingy diner slurping noodles, smiling and shaking my head. It couldn’t possibly be me anyway. But the very next second, my phone rang. 1 Asher Hayes debuted at nineteen. In just five years, he had become a household name, an absolute superstar. While I was slurping noodles in a small, greasy diner, the wall-mounted TV was broadcasting his variety show. In the latest episode, he sang a song called “The Girl Next to Me” and said it was dedicated to his high school crush. It caused a massive sensation. The celebrity guests sitting around him started teasing him, urging him to say the girl’s name. Of course, he didn’t. I was a little dazed. The noodles on my chopsticks had gone cold. Because, I used to be his desk mate. But, it couldn’t possibly be me. I’m just an ordinary person. Or even, a pretty pathetic one. There is an insurmountable gulf between us. Being desk mates with a superstar like him in high school was already the absolute peak of my life. I buried my head and ate that bite of noodles. It was cold and tasted awful, making me want to throw up. Bad memories came flooding back. Memories of being shoved into a bathroom stall during my period and having freezing cold water dumped over my head. The girl who dumped that water on me later became a celebrity too. Now, she is highly praised by the media as Hollywood’s only “pure white lily.” In a recent interview, she choked up and said she was a victim of severe school bullying in high school. She claimed she had freezing water poured on her during her period, which caused her to develop severe depression that she still hasn’t recovered from. It trended number one on Twitter for a while. Many celebrities came forward to support her, posting tweets against school bullying. Oh, and that girl was also participating in that exact same variety show. When Asher was singing, she was sitting on the grass, clapping. Speaking of which, she used to be Asher’s desk mate too. When the crowd was cheering for Asher to say the girl’s name, she must have been expectantly waiting to hear her own name, right? I paid my bill and walked out of the diner. I completely forgot what I was just thinking about. It was so cold outside; I just wanted to go home and get warm. My phone suddenly started ringing. It was an unknown number. “Hello? Is this Ms. Quinn Foster? We are the production team for Autumn Encounters. Congratulations on becoming our special guest, earning the chance to record alongside numerous A-list celebrities…” I frowned. Autumn Encounters was exactly the variety show Asher was on. Because it was so popular recently, there had been several scam cases using the show’s name. I didn’t expect to run into one myself. “Hilarious. If you’re the director, then I’m an international pop star,” I sneered. It was already dark, and I was getting home a bit late. My older brother, Mason, wasn’t at ease, so he specifically waited for me downstairs. “On the phone?” “Ah, a scam call.” On the other end of the line, the person claiming to be the director was still trying hard to prove his identity when I ruthlessly hung up. “Just block it,” Mason said. He rubbed my head, took my backpack, and walked upstairs. Ever since I almost died that year, he had been terrified of losing me, protecting me like a fragile crystal ball that could shatter at any moment. As I walked upstairs, I complained to him about things at school. I had just started my Ph.D. program, and getting yelled at by my advisor every day was making me question my life choices. My phone rang again. Still an unknown number, but not the same one from just now. Mason got a bit annoyed: “Hang up and block it. Seriously, these scammers never stop.” But as I looked at the screen, for some reason, I felt this time was different. In the end, I answered it. “Hello?” I greeted hesitantly. The other end of the line was silent for two seconds. “Long time no see, Quinn.” 2 That familiar yet unfamiliar voice was like a gust of wind, blowing open a heavy door that had been sealed for a long time. Instantly, my adrenaline spiked. My heart beat wildly. I froze in place, my hands and feet going numb. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Calling you out of the blue… is this a bit too forward?” “Ah, no, no! Not at all!” Getting a call from Asher left me completely flustered. Even though we used to be classmates, we only sat in the same class together. We had absolutely no personal relationship. No matter how you looked at it, it was impossible for our paths to cross again. I let out a breath and tried my best to sound natural. “Mr. Superstar, why are you calling me?” Asher laughed. His voice sounded incredibly good. I paused. In my memory, had he ever laughed like that? It had been too long; I had forgotten. When he was my desk mate, it seemed like he was always just fast asleep on his desk. “I want to invite you to be a guest star and film the show with me. The director called you earlier, but you turned him down.” “I’m so sorry, I thought it was a scammer…” “It did sound a bit like a scam. Did it scare you?” “A… a little.” He laughed again, then smoothly changed the subject: “So, are you willing to come? Classmate Quinn.” I panicked. Filming a show, going on TV… for someone with social anxiety, it was terrifying. Moreover, showing up looking like a disheveled grad student to meet my wildly successful old classmate made me feel deeply inadequate. “Uh, I don’t think I can. Let’s just forget it…” “Why? Do you really not want to see me?” He sounded so sincere, almost humble. I quickly denied it: “Ah, no, it’s not that at all! How could it be? I just think it’s too sudden, and I haven’t thought it through.” “I see. Then, please think about it carefully. I really… really want to see you.” I was stunned. He paused for a moment and added: “There are other old classmates coming too. I really want to see all of you.” A memory, long lost in the sea of time, suddenly drilled into my mind. 3 One year, in the spring. An invitation card appeared on my desk. “It’s my birthday this Saturday. Come hang out at my place.” Seventeen-year-old Asher sat on his desk, speaking with a careless attitude. Asher came from a prominent, wealthy family. His friends were all rich or influential. That invitation should never have appeared on my desk. Seeing that I wasn’t speaking, Asher added, “Everyone in the class is coming. Anyway, do whatever you want.” He hopped off the desk indifferently and went to play basketball with his friends. Did I go later? Yes, I went. Carrying a cheap gift and wearing plain clothes, I walked to the outside of an extravagant estate I had never even seen before in my life. At the entrance, I finally realized that the other classmates attending the party had arrived in luxury cars, wearing expensive tailored clothes. This was a gathering for the elite. There was absolutely no one like me, a total commoner. So, halfway to the door, I turned around and left. I didn’t even wish Asher a happy birthday. But I figured he wouldn’t care, or even notice. Originally, it was just a passing invitation. We couldn’t even be considered friends. What happened after that day? I can’t remember clearly. It seemed… he never spoke to me again. But then again, he rarely spoke to me to begin with. A few days later, I transferred schools, and I never saw him again. The memory ended there. On the other end of the phone, Asher was still waiting for my answer. I hesitated for a moment, then nodded: “Okay, let me think about it first.” Mason had heard the entire conversation. As I pocketed my phone and walked upstairs, he asked, “Is that the super popular ‘Encounters’ show?” “Yeah.” “You’re not going to go, right?” “I won’t.” “Then I’m relieved.” My footsteps felt heavy as I walked up the stairs. But my heart felt as if it was tethered to something. After walking up seven steps, I stopped and gripped the handrail tightly. “No, Mason. I want to go.” Mason’s eyes widened: “Huh? Are you serious? Do you even know that Blair Kensington is on that show? Doesn’t she make you sick?” “I know.” My hands trembled slightly, but my heart grew firm once again. “But, Mason, I still want to go. And besides, I can’t be a turtle hiding in its shell forever.” 4 On the flight, I had a dream. In the dream, I went back to my high school classroom, napping on my desk. Someone leaned close to my ear and whispered softly, “Quinn, I like you.” I opened my eyes to hazy light and shadows. There was no one in front of me. Only the white curtains gently swaying in the breeze. “Quinn, wake up! We’re here!” Mason shook me vigorously. He picked me up like a kitten, holding bags in one hand and practically carrying me with the other. He insisted on coming with me, even calling up his frat brothers and telling them to protect me. If anyone dared to bully me, he and his boys were going to beat them to a pulp. After we got off the plane, the production team sent a private car to pick me up. After resting for a few hours, I was taken to the beach in the evening to participate in the shoot. The crew had built three giant cardboard houses resembling classrooms. In each room hid a guest star. For the sake of the show’s suspense, even I didn’t know who was hiding in the other two rooms. During filming, I hid behind the door, my palms sweating nervously. Soon, I heard familiar voices. Asher, Blair, and a few other well-known celebrities. I felt anxious. It had been so long. I didn’t know if I would look tense or come off like a country bumpkin. Outside, the host asked, “Who do you hope to see?” Blair seemed very excited. It looked like she didn’t know who was coming either. Soon, the first door opened. The host asked, “Do you still remember this old classmate’s name?” Asher paused for a moment and said, “Long time no see, Brody.” I couldn’t see, but hearing that name made me freeze. Brody Mitchell. Wasn’t he the delinquent in our class? If I remembered correctly, he was also Blair’s ultimate simp… I listened carefully. It was lively outside, and Blair was smiling, but she was obviously a bit nervous. She was probably afraid he would say something he shouldn’t. However, Brody was surprisingly cooperative, saying nothing but compliments about her. She gradually relaxed. After a while, another door opened. I heard Blair scream in surprise: “Riley!” The string in my mind suddenly pulled taut. Riley Jenkins was my dorm roommate in high school, and also Blair’s best friend. Back then, every time Blair bullied me, Riley helped her. Including the time they poured cold water on me. Why would they invite her? Did Blair invite her? Bad memories assaulted me again, making me slightly nauseous. After they chatted outside for a while, I heard Asher’s slightly urging voice: “Let’s open the last door first. There’s another classmate waiting inside for a long time.” The host finally signaled for me to come out. “Let’s welcome our third guest! Which old classmate could this be? Let’s build up the anticipation… one, two, three!” I took a deep breath, adjusted my posture, and pushed the door open. The temperature had dropped sharply recently, but to look good on camera, I only wore a white dress with a trench coat over it. The moment I opened the door, the wind picked up, making my dress flutter. Unexpectedly, it drew gasps of admiration from the onlookers. I looked up and immediately saw Asher. He was wearing a white button-down shirt, standing against the brilliant lights, smiling at me as if there was a galaxy between us. “Classmate Quinn, long time no see.” That lean, tall figure instantly pulled me back to my high school days. I seemed to see that teenage boy again, always wearing headphones, leaning against the window, lost in thought. I was dazed for a moment, then nodded slightly. Asher introduced me to everyone: “This is Quinn Foster, she was… the top student in our class.” He didn’t say I was his desk mate. Maybe it was to avoid gossip, or maybe he had just forgotten. I looked away and saw Blair. She stood to the side. For a split second, her face looked worse than if she had eaten a fly. Hollywood’s “only pure white lily” was a title voted on by fans. If she hadn’t claimed she was “bullied” in high school to harvest a wave of sympathy, she probably wouldn’t have won that title. Now that she saw me—her living “dark history”—her emotions must have been incredibly complicated. But she quickly covered it up, running over to hug me. “Oh my god! Quinn, it’s really you! I missed you so much!” I hugged her back, my face perfectly calm: “Nice to see you too, Blair.” 5 Old classmates reuniting, each with their own hidden agendas. We hugged each other, our smiles faker than flattering a boss at a corporate dinner. After exchanging pleasantries, the host asked the five of us to go on stage and take a group photo. There were so many people off-stage and several cameras pointing at us. I felt awkward. Riley suddenly held my hand and smiled at me. “Don’t be nervous.” I looked at her defensively, but found that her gaze was actually… very gentle and sincere. It was a complete 180 from the girl who used to stand next to Blair and relentlessly humiliate me. What was going on? I didn’t respond, silently pulling my hand back. After the photo shoot, we moved to the next segment. We sat around a fire pit, grilling food and chatting. This was supposed to be a heartwarming show, and in this segment, celebrities often dug up secrets buried deep in their hearts, which was what the audience loved to watch the most. I picked a spot and sat down. Surrounded by celebrities I knew or didn’t know, it felt quite novel. There was a bit of space next to me. I was about to scoot over to give the person beside me more room. Just then, Asher suddenly appeared. “I’ll sit here.” After saying that, he added an explanation: “I’m in charge of the barbecue tonight. It’s easier to operate from here.” The warm light of the bonfire outlined his flawless face. He looked like a descending god, so handsome it made people stare blankly. I suddenly remembered choosing seats in our sophomore year. It was an afternoon, with dust motes dancing in the rays of the setting sun. Asher walked straight to the empty seat next to me and sat down. I was secretly shocked at the time. What? The school heartthrob is sitting next to me? Just like now. However, back then, he didn’t even say hello to me. He just put his head on the desk and fell fast asleep. “Okay.” I nodded and squeezed to the side, leaving more space for him. While the others were chatting, Asher quietly flipped the food, brushed oil, and sprinkled seasoning. His movements were unhurried, like he was completing a piece of art. I felt a bit uncomfortable, so I held a piece of corn on the cob and buried my head in eating it. Until someone cued me. “What was Asher like in high school?” A female singer sitting next to me suddenly asked. I looked up. Asher was looking at me, a smile in his eyes. It made my heart skip a beat. I quickly turned my head and looked at the female singer: “Him? He was pretty much the same as he is now. He was the school heartthrob back then—handsome, good grades. He was the superstar of our school.” “Last time, Asher mentioned he had a crush on a female classmate in high school. Do you know her?” The gossip-hungry gazes of everyone present converged on me. Since Asher debuted, he had never revealed anything about his romantic life, so everyone was incredibly curious about this question. But how would I know who he liked? I shook my head like a rattle drum: “I really have no idea about that.” The female singer looked a bit disappointed. She relentlessly turned to Asher: “Give us a hint! Like, what was unique about that girl?” I held my corn, silently looking at him, inexplicably curious myself. Across the fire, Blair was also looking at him expectantly. But Asher just smiled faintly, patiently clipping a chicken wing: “Her? Everything about her was unique.” That was as good as saying nothing. The female singer pressed on: “If you had to use a flower to describe her, what would it be?” The implication of that question couldn’t be more obvious. Blair was known as the “pure white lily.” By asking this, the singer wanted to know if Asher’s crush was Blair. Because they were high school classmates and used to be desk mates, many people suspected the girl was Blair. But Asher shook his head. “She’s not a flower.” He unhurriedly continued what he was doing, not looking at anyone, and said, “Flowers are too fragile. They aren’t like her.” Blair froze, the light in her eyes gradually dimming. She knew Asher wasn’t talking about her. As for who it was, I didn’t know either. He said flowers were too fragile, not like her. So, he liked a tomboy? I thought for a long time but couldn’t figure out who in our class fit the bill. It must be someone I didn’t know. But to be crushed on by Asher and kept in his heart for so many years, she must have been very beautiful. The female singer asked again: “Did you ever confess to her?” I thought to myself, what a stupid question. He said it was a crush. If he confessed, would it still be called a crush? But Asher replied: “I did confess.” “But she didn’t hear me.” Soon, he looked up, smiling, and asked: “Who wants chicken wings?” A bunch of people swarmed over: “Me, me, me!” I was squeezed to the edge, my mind still replaying his words. I confessed, but she didn’t hear me. Looks like that girl had bad hearing. Looking at it this way, Asher was actually a bit pitiful. He finally managed to vocalize his love, but the person didn’t hear it, and they missed each other forever. To be kept deep in his heart and yearned for over so many years… It was quite enviable. I lowered my eyes, looking at the fire, feeling a momentary pang of loss. Since they couldn’t get anything more out of Asher, the topic naturally transitioned to Blair. The female singer asked me again: “What was Blair like in high school?” Blair looked at me, smiling, but the tension and threat in her eyes were practically overflowing. Of course, I wasn’t going to say that she rallied everyone to isolate me—they wouldn’t broadcast that anyway. I just smiled and said sweetly: “Blair was incredibly popular because she’s so pretty, right? She had an outgoing personality, was generous to her friends, and everyone loved her. Whenever there was a vote for class officers or student reps, she always got first place.” Riley and Brody, sitting on the other side, also chimed in: “Blair was everyone’s goddess.” Blair breathed a sigh of relief. However, she completely failed to realize that what I just said contradicted the “bullied victim” persona she had built up over the past few months. She had told too many lies; she couldn’t even remember what she had said before. Everyone talked and laughed, and time passed quickly. Around 10 PM, we headed back to the hotel to rest. Blair ran over and hooked her arm through mine, insisting on walking me back. With the cameras still rolling, she smiled sweetly, asking about my well-being like we were long-lost best friends. Once we reached the hotel entrance and the cameras retreated, she finally showed her true colors. “Quinn, I don’t know how the production team contacted you, and I don’t know why you agreed to come. But listen to me, watch what you say and do. If you accidentally say the wrong thing, get cyberbullied, face retaliation, and it ruins your normal life… don’t blame me for not warning you.” Her ability to flip her attitude faster than flipping a page in a book was truly comical. I couldn’t help but laugh. Mimicking her innocent persona in front of others, I said, “Thank you for the warning! You really treat me like a best friend, thinking of everything for me.” “Who is your best friend? Stop acting like a fake saint here, it’s disgusting!” She pushed me away in disgust and was about to curse more. Coincidentally, Mason came downstairs. A tall, muscular guy over six feet tall, walking toward her with cold eyes. “Little girl, what are you doing?” Blair backed up, swallowing the words she was about to say. She didn’t want to be at a disadvantage here. Pursing her lips, she whispered: “Quinn, that’s all I’m going to say. Keep yourself in line and don’t spout nonsense, for both our sakes.” After saying that, she glanced at Mason, quickly got into her luxury van, and left. 6 “Did she bully you?” “No.” “Let me tell you, if she ever dares to do anything to you…” “I’ll give her a left hook, then a right hook, and beat her until she doesn’t know what hit her!” “That’s my girl!” Mason proudly walked me back to my room, but there was an uninvited guest standing at the door. “Hi, Quinn.” Riley looked at me, looking like she had made a huge decision. I stopped and looked at her warily. She quickly explained: “I don’t mean anything bad. I just want to say two sentences and I’ll leave.” I remained silent. She bit her lip and said: “Quinn, I know you hate me. Back then… I did a lot of terrible things, and I hurt you deeply. Maybe, maybe you’ve already forgotten…” “No, I haven’t forgotten.” “Ah, right. How could you possibly forget.” She nervously gripped the hem of her shirt: “I haven’t forgotten either. Actually, all these years, I’ve felt terribly guilty. Every time I think of what I did in high school, I want to slap myself. Really, I’m so sorry…” I was a bit surprised. Was she repenting? I looked at her quietly. Riley pursed her lips, lowering her eyes guiltily. After a while, she looked up, her eyes suddenly becoming resolute: “Quinn, I know you won’t forgive me. But, I will make up for my mistakes. People who make mistakes must inevitably pay the price!” After saying that, she turned and ran away. I watched her back, unable to pinpoint my exact emotions. After a while, I turned to Mason: “She’s not going to jump into the ocean, is she?” Mason frowned: “Who cares about her? Don’t take it to heart. Get some rest.” “Okay.” I went inside, listened to my brother, and deadbolted the door. I leaned against the door, lost in thought. It was strange, wasn’t it? When she apologized to me, my heart was completely unruffled. It felt light, without a shred of relief. Probably because the apology came way too late, and I no longer needed it. My phone suddenly vibrated, startling me. It was actually Asher. “Did you get back safely?” he asked. This was our first time exchanging messages since we added each other on WhatsApp the day before yesterday. “Yes, I did.” I sent a little sun emoji. He replied with a little sun emoji too. So… cute. “Do you have time tomorrow morning? Let’s go for a walk together. The scenery here is beautiful.” Was he asking me out? The air suddenly grew thick. My heart was beating so fast it felt like it would fly out of my chest. He quickly sent another message: ” Filming was chaotic last night, I didn’t get to properly host you guys.” You guys? So, Brody and Riley were going too? What was I overthinking just now? I let out a soft breath and replied: “Sure.” “Great. See you tomorrow at 9 AM. Goodnight.” He sent a sticker of a sleeping moon, ending the conversation. My tense nerves relaxed, and only then did I realize my palms were drenched in sweat.

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When My Boyfriend’s Childhood Best Friend Became Single I waited for him at the diner all night. As the sky began to lighten, I finally received his text: “We’re not working out. Let’s break up.” 1 On the day of our two-year anniversary, I sat in the diner, watching the snow fall and stop, over and over. But that familiar silhouette never appeared outside the window. He stood me up. As dawn broke, I pushed open the diner doors and was immediately choked by a flurry of snow, coughing uncontrollably. Two text messages sat unread on my phone. One was from him: “We’re not working out. Let’s break up.” The other was from his childhood best friend, my roommate, Audrey: “Harper, I don’t think I want to give him to you anymore.” A thick layer of snow blanketed the ground. Every step left a deep footprint, only to be quickly buried by fresh snow. I looked up, feeling the freezing temperature as my breath plumed into white mist. This winter felt exceptionally cold. I met Liam in the summer. I was carrying two ice cream cones across the basketball court to find my roommate when a stray ball flew straight at me. At the last second, a strong arm yanked me into a warm chest. It happened so fast I only caught a glimpse of his sharp jawline. The ice cream hit the asphalt, melting rapidly in the heat. From a distance, my roommate Audrey’s voice rang out: “Harper—!” Then, a crisp, clear voice echoed right above my head: “Harper Ellis?” I looked up. That was my first time meeting him. Between his handsome features and the way his white t-shirt fluttered in the breeze, he had a fatal attraction to me. His name was Liam Wright. Audrey’s childhood best friend, the boy next door. Because of Audrey, I ended up seeing him a lot. Whenever we hung out, the three of us were usually together. Over time, we got to know each other. He only knew my name initially because Audrey constantly brought me up in front of him. In the winter of our sophomore year, Liam and I got together. He was the one who confessed, though it hardly counted as a real confession. That night, walking out of the library, I checked my phone. Half an hour earlier, Audrey had posted a photo on Instagram: “Hello, Carter.” It was a picture of a guy’s back. I knew who he was. A senior Audrey had been crushing on for ages. I put my phone away and kept walking, keeping my head down until I reached my dorm. Standing there in the freezing cold, wearing only a thin jacket, was Liam. He held a single rose in one hand and his phone in the other, his knuckles white from gripping it so tightly. I called out his name in surprise. He turned around, his eyes slightly red. Before I could say another word, he pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice hoarse. “Harper, let’s give us a try.” Truthfully, Audrey had been trying her hardest to set us up long before that. Otherwise, Liam wouldn’t have brought me along every time he asked her to hang out. Once, when she got drunk, she hugged my arm and whined: “Harper, please just date him. I’m begging you. Otherwise he’s always bothering me, it’s so annoying.” Right then, Liam pushed the door open and walked in. He was completely drenched. A torrential downpour was raging outside, but because of one phone call from Audrey, he had rushed over without a second thought. I don’t know if he heard what she said. I only watched him lean down, scoop the drunk Audrey into his arms, and let out a helpless sigh. “Audrey, stop messing around.” I grabbed Audrey’s purse and followed quietly behind them. I watched him carefully place her into the passenger seat and tuck a blanket around her. After standing there in a daze for a long time, Liam told me to get in the car. As the heater slowly warmed the interior, I kept my eyes lowered, my peripheral vision fixed on his long, clean fingers gripping the steering wheel. Did I agree to date Liam because I didn’t like him? No. I liked him a lot. I liked him so much that even knowing he only asked me out to get back at Audrey, I still said yes. 2 Liam’s social media was incredibly bare. He only had two posts. One was a picture of a stray cat, and the other was just a single line of text: One step away. The day after we got together, he made his third post: Harper Ellis. My girlfriend. Audrey quickly commented: Omg, wishing you guys the best! Liam and I had our first official date at the movies. We bought tickets for a cheesy new rom-com. Not long after we sat down, Audrey and her new boyfriend showed up and sat directly in the row in front of us. The movie was boring and cliché—just the usual plot of the main couple missing their timing and not ending up together. But Audrey bawled her eyes out. She always seemed to get moved to tears easily. I remember one night before Liam and I were dating. A guy was confessing his love to a girl outside our dorm building. He arranged candles into a heart, scattered rose petals on the ground, and played the guitar while saying “I love you.” The girl he was confessing to hadn’t even come downstairs yet, but Audrey, who was watching from the balcony, was streaming tears. She hugged me and cried about how touching it was, and how great that guy was. I patted her back gently, stayed silent for a moment, and asked quietly, “Isn’t Liam great too?” Her crying stopped instantly. She wiped her tears and sighed. “He’s great, but it’s just annoying. We grew up together, how could I ever like him that way? Besides, even if we don’t date, he’s always going to be good to me.” Her capacity to be moved seemed totally immune to Liam. Or maybe, as the saying goes, the one who is truly loved has nothing to fear. After the movie, we all went to dinner. At the table, Audrey and her boyfriend fed each other bites of food non-stop. Liam kept his head down, pushing a piece of lettuce around his plate. He barely ate a thing. Before we parted ways, Audrey mentioned they were going to a friend’s birthday party. Liam seemed to hold back for a long time before finally saying, “Don’t drink too much.” Audrey frowned in annoyance. Leaning against her boyfriend, she looked at me. “Harper, he’s so annoying. Tell him to stop acting like my dad.” Before I could say anything, Liam grabbed my wrist and pulled me away. The walk was silent. I thought of a million things to say, but finally stopped in front of a grocery store and looked at him. “Liam, let me make you some homemade spaghetti.” In my apartment, Liam ate the pasta politely, a faint smile on his lips. “You don’t look like someone who cooks.” “Honestly, I didn’t know how it would turn out either. This is the first time in my memory I’ve ever made spaghetti bolognese.” His smile deepened. “Really? It’s really good.” Looking at his handsome face, I felt my ears burn. His gloomy mood from the evening improved significantly. It was from that night on that he truly started stepping into his role as my boyfriend. Every morning, he would wait outside my dorm with breakfast, rain or shine. He walked me to class, bought me gifts for every holiday, took me out on weekends, and occasionally planned little surprises. Once, we hiked up a mountain to watch the sunrise. Sitting at the peak, smelling the pine trees as the first ray of sunlight broke the horizon, he suddenly leaned in and kissed my cheek. His eyes were incredibly gentle when he said, “Harper, I like you.” For a long time, I didn’t think it was possible for Liam to like me. After all, I had seen what he looked like when he liked Audrey. Audrey and I were total opposites. She was the bright, emotional, head-turning beauty. I wasn’t nearly as pretty, and I was quiet. Put simply, I was boring. But when Liam said I like you, I just felt a sudden pang of melancholy in my chest, and an urge to cry. It felt like I had waited years to hear those words, even though we hadn’t even been together for a year. Somehow, I always felt our quiet, peaceful happiness was just a fragile bubble. One day, it was going to pop. And Audrey was the needle. 3 Two months into her relationship, Audrey and her boyfriend started fighting constantly. It started with small things, like the shade of her lipstick, and escalated until it landed someone in the hospital. One time, Liam and I were out for dinner. It was a new restaurant offering half-price meals for couples, so I dragged him there. But right as the food arrived, Liam got a call from Audrey. By the time we rushed over, Audrey was sitting in a private karaoke room, drinking and crying. The reason? Her boyfriend was too busy lately, and they fought about not seeing each other enough. I originally thought once he comforted her, that would be the end of it. I didn’t realize that phone call was just the beginning. Audrey started complaining to him all the time. Her boyfriend wasn’t considerate enough, wasn’t gentle enough, his apologies weren’t sincere, he texted other girls. She always ended it with one sentence: “He’s nothing compared to you, Liam.” Her issues with her boyfriend snowballed, and the number of times she called Liam skyrocketed. It got to the point where I felt like the third wheel. I remember it was my birthday. It was pouring rain outside. Liam lit the candles on my cake and told me to make a wish. Just as I closed my eyes, a frantic ringtone shattered the silence. It took me a moment to realize it was the custom ringtone Liam had assigned to Audrey. He hadn’t changed it since we started dating. Audrey’s crying echoed loudly in the quiet room. Liam stood up so fast he knocked a ceramic plate onto the floor, shattering it. Through the speaker, Audrey sobbed that she had been dumped and left on the side of a highway in the middle of nowhere. The heater was on, but my fingertips went ice cold. Liam gently coaxed her over the phone: “Don’t panic. Send me your location.” Liam’s voice was always soft, but for some reason, he sounded exceptionally tender when he was comforting Audrey. Right as he opened the door to leave, I called his name. He seemed to finally remember I was still in the room. He looked uncomfortable. “The rain is too heavy, it’s not safe out there. I’m going to go find Audrey.” That was probably the one and only time I ever acted selfishly during our relationship. I grabbed his sleeve. “What if I don’t want you to go?” It had been too many times. Even treating her like a little sister, they had crossed the line. He gently pried my fingers off his sleeve. His voice was low. “I’m sorry, Harper. I can’t let anything happen to her.” Then came the sound of the door closing. On my twenty-first birthday, I sat alone in front of a melted cake for a long time. Eventually, my head started pounding so violently that I passed out. A waiter found me and called an ambulance. The headaches were a lingering side effect of a car crash I had years ago. After finishing my IV drip in the middle of the night, I pulled out my phone. I had called Liam repeatedly. No one answered. 4 Audrey was heartbroken and locked herself in her room for days. When Liam came to the hospital the next morning, he had faint dark circles under his eyes. He held my hand and apologized. I kept my eyes closed and pretended to be asleep. After I was discharged, Liam took meticulous care of me. He brought me meals, walked me to every class, and basically spent every free second he had by my side. I guess he was putting all his time into me to fix what he broke. Once during gym class, my period came early. The cramps were so bad I couldn’t stand. I don’t know who texted him, but Liam sprinted over, sweating, and carried me to the campus clinic. He prepared everything perfectly—heating pads, hot tea, painkillers. I knew he was trying hard to repair the crack in our relationship. Audrey was in a terrible mood, so she kept finding excuses to hang out with us. At first, it was just grabbing lunch together. Soon, she tagged along on every date. She would always loop her arm through mine confidently and say: “Harper, I’m not stealing Liam from you. I don’t even like him.” “I just see him as a brother. If I liked him, I wouldn’t have set you two up!” Sometimes, if Liam bought me a gift but didn’t get her one, she would get mad and pout: “Liam, you’re choosing a girl over your best friend.” “What? I’m the one who set you two up, and you forgot about me already?” “Liam, we grew up together.” For a long time, the three of us maintained this bizarre, delicate dynamic, right until Audrey started dating again. The guy was a junior from the business school. He was the total opposite of her ex. Her ex was flashy and passionate, but didn’t know how to compromise or take care of people. This new guy, with his clean-cut, quiet demeanor, put Audrey first in absolutely everything. I don’t know if Audrey noticed, but this guy was exactly like Liam. Or rather, he was exactly like the version of Liam who had absolutely zero boundaries when it came to her. The day Audrey announced her new relationship, Liam accidentally dropped the handmade ceramic mug I had given him for his birthday. It shattered. A shard sliced his index finger, leaving a deep cut. It was hard to say if the cut hurt because of Audrey, or because of the mug I made him. But because of Audrey’s new romance, the tension between Liam and me finally eased. One night, Liam and I were eating at a dive bar off-campus. Suddenly, a huge commotion broke out outside. I wasn’t naturally curious and hated crowds, and so did Liam. But the next second, a scream ripped through the air. It was Audrey. Without a second of hesitation, Liam bolted outside. I ran after him. The street in front of the bar was pure chaos. A massive brawl had broken out, and Audrey was right in the middle of it. Later, I saw someone raise a hand to hit Audrey. Liam grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it over the guy’s head. Everything descended into madness. Crying, glass shattering, screaming, and blood. So much blood. The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was: “Someone passed out! Someone passed out—!” The person who passed out was me. Seeing that scene, my head had started throbbing with an agonizing pain. It was too much to bear, and I blacked out. When I opened my eyes again, I was in the hospital. Liam’s face was bruised purple, and his arm was bandaged. Seeing me awake, he called my name in a hoarse voice. “Harper.” I was never a crier. Even when I was deeply wronged, I would just grit my teeth and push through it. But for the first time, I couldn’t hold back the tears in front of Liam. I didn’t make a sound. The tears just rolled down my temples into the pillow. I had been so terrified. I had screamed his name, over and over, but in that moment, the only person in his eyes was Audrey. I couldn’t explain exactly why I was crying, but it felt like a dull knife was sawing at my heart. 5 Liam explained that Audrey’s friends had gotten into a dispute with another group, neither side backed down, and a fight broke out. Audrey wasn’t hurt, but she was a wreck. Her eyes were red and swollen when she came to see me at the hospital. During the fight, her new boyfriend hadn’t protected her; in fact, he was the first one to run away. After that, Audrey and her boyfriend were constantly on-and-off, with no clear end in sight. On the day Liam got the stitches removed from his arm, I stared at the jagged scar and asked, “Liam, does it hurt?” Maybe because my voice was so unnervingly calm, he panicked, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry, Harper. I grew up with her. I can’t just leave her alone.” “Harper, don’t mention breaking up. Please, never bring up breaking up, okay?” In the end, he was the one who brought it up. On our two-year anniversary. Audrey and her boyfriend had finally called it quits for good. It happened exactly one week before our anniversary. She was eerily calm about it this time. No crying, no screaming. She just sat with us at dinner and said flatly: “I broke up with him.” I had a very strange premonition then. Audrey regretted it. And reality proved my intuition right. So, when I was stood up on our anniversary, and I finally got the breakup text, I wasn’t that surprised. Just… tired. My eyes burned. I used to wonder why I fell so hard for Liam. I thought it was because the sunset was so beautiful that day at the basketball court, and his silhouette just perfectly caught my eye. I figured he would never know that the real first time I saw him was in the stairwell, the second day of freshman year. For some unknown reason, Audrey was sitting on the steps crying. Liam sat right beside her, coaxing her with endless, gentle patience. The evening light hit the side of his face, making his eyelashes glow. Staring at the text Liam sent me, I typed a single word: “Okay.” Thinking back on it, I was exactly like the catalyst side-character in a romance novel about childhood sweethearts. Once the main characters finally realized they were meant to be, it was time for me to gracefully exit stage left. After standing out in the snow, I caught a terrible fever. I had bizarre, fragmented dreams. A highway covered in blood from a car crash. A boy’s back as he rode a bicycle. A teenager in a white shirt whose face I could never clearly see. In the dream, a clear, somewhat lazy voice was rambling in my ear. I strained to listen and barely caught a few sentences: “Harper, how did your exam go?” “I’m here to see you, Harper!” “Harper Ellis, no taking it back!” “Harper. Harper… Harper…” When I opened my eyes to a blinding white ceiling, for a split second, I thought I was waking up from the car crash again. It was snowing outside the window, just like back then. During winter break of my junior year of high school, I was in a terrible car accident. When I woke up, I had lost a huge chunk of my memory. 6 Liam and I broke up on an ordinary snowy day. The next time I saw Audrey, she said, “Harper, thank you. You made me realize my true feelings.” “I’m so sorry, Harper. Liam only dated you to make me jealous.” “I was so stupid, trying so hard to push you two together. It’s all my fault. Please don’t hate me, okay?” As she said this, she clung intimately to Liam’s arm. It was the first time I had seen him since the breakup. The sunlight hit his newly cut black hair. I suddenly noticed that in just a few days, he had lost weight. His normally gentle features looked sharp and exhausted. My eyes swept over the watch on his left wrist. I looked up at him slightly and asked: “When we were on the mountain watching the sunrise, did you mean what you said?” Honestly, I didn’t even know what I was holding onto anymore. Was I hoping he really liked me? Did I still want to be with him? But when he looked at me so intently on that peak and said he liked me, I genuinely believed him. Two years is a long time. It’s just a shame it could never outlast their twenty. He pressed his lips together. The hand by his side clenched into a loose fist. His voice was as beautiful as ever: “It was my fault. Don’t blame Audrey. If you need anything to make up for it, just name it.” I pulled a faint, mocking smile, my vision blurring. “Can I ask you to marry me?” He froze. I turned around and started walking away slowly, throwing an insult over my shoulder: “Can’t do it, right? It’s fine. You’ve never kept a single promise you made to me anyway. What’s one more?” The watch on Liam’s wrist was very old. After it broke a few times, I bought him a brand new one. He accepted it but never wore it, claiming he just needed to fix the old one and was too used to it to switch. Thinking back on it now, it wasn’t the style of the watch he couldn’t let go of. It was the person who gave it to him. A thin layer of snow covered the sidewalk. I stood at an intersection, watching the cars rush by, suddenly having no idea where to go. As I stepped off the curb, a deafening screech of tires and crashing metal erupted right behind me. The next second, I was yanked backward into an embrace that smelled of pine. I don’t know how much time passed. The jarring noise had triggered flashes of my car crash, making my head pound in agony. As the pain slowly subsided, I clutched my head and looked up. I saw a face that looked remarkably like Liam’s, but older, sharper, and far more refined. The man wore a black overcoat lightly dusted with snow. He had an incredible jawline and striking brow bones. His long, clean fingers gripped a transparent umbrella, shielding me from the snow, while his other arm was wrapped tightly around my waist. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his voice was completely hoarse: “Long time no see, Harper.” His name was Caleb Wright. My… former math tutor. The summer before my senior year of high school, my dad brought home a college student to tutor me in math. His name was Caleb. Every Wednesday and Friday afternoon, he came over to help me study. Whenever my mom wasn’t home, he would sneak me a vanilla ice cream cone. I had to beg him for it, of course, because my health was poor and my mom banned cold sweets. Caleb refused at first, but couldn’t withstand my pleading. We compromised on half a cone as a reward for finishing my work. Though he went to college in a different city, he was only in my hometown that summer for fieldwork related to his thesis. Tutoring was just a way to make some extra cash. He didn’t just teach me math; he ended up tutoring me in almost every subject. You could say my entire academic revival started with him. As the pages of my textbooks flipped, the summer ended. I started my senior year, and he went back to his university. My once aggressively average math grades skyrocketed, eventually becoming my best subject. Actually, Caleb was the one who told me all of this. I had forgotten everything about him, and everything that happened during that time. Later, just to confirm, I asked my mom. She confirmed that he had indeed tutored me. And yes, I really did love vanilla ice cream. The hand holding the umbrella tightened its grip. His deep, dark eyes looked at me from beneath his eyelashes. He seemed to force the words out: “You don’t remember me?… It’s fine. As long as you’re okay. As long as you’re safe.” Looking at his suddenly dimmed eyes, and that face that looked so much like Liam’s, I felt a knot of complex emotions. I opened my mouth and called out, “Mr. Wright,” but he cut me off with a bitter smile. “You never used to call me Mr. Wright.” “What did I call you?” “Caleb.” 7 I used to attribute my feelings for Liam to perfect timing. The weather was nice, he appeared exactly when I needed him, and my heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t find any other reason, right up until he drained every last drop of my affection. But my reason for avoiding Caleb now was crystal clear: he had a face just like Liam’s. Technically speaking, Liam looked like him. I found out Caleb was Liam’s older cousin during winter break. Caleb and I had added each other on social media. Initially, I didn’t want to, but he looked down at me quietly and said softly: “We were tutor and student once. Not only did you forget me, but now you won’t even add me as a friend?” My heart gave an inexplicable tremble, and I agreed. After adding him, I glanced at his profile. It was mostly work-related articles. The only personal posts were a few photos of the exact same potted Gardenia plant. For some reason, it made me think of Liam’s profile. That photo of the cat and that single sentence. It was easy to guess the hidden meaning behind it. Audrey had once shown me a picture of the cat she and Liam co-parented—it was the exact same cat from his post. And “One step away” perfectly described the agonizing distance between best friends and lovers. A week after Caleb and I became online friends, he made a new post. It was very simple: They say seven years is a cycle. Beneath it was a comment: Cousin, did you find her? Congrats! My entire focus locked onto the word “Cousin.” So that’s why they looked so alike. Winter break vanished as quickly as a sparkler burning out. During that time, Caleb only sent me one message, right at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve: “Merry Christmas, Harper.” I spun my phone in my hand, eventually turning it off. The next morning, I replied: “Merry Christmas, Caleb.” Once we returned to campus, everyone was busy with internships and final projects. Graduation was looming, which meant endless farewell dinners and parties. It was during this time I realized the name “Liam” no longer stirred a single ripple in my heart. Because of our overlapping social circles, it was inevitable that Liam, Audrey, and I would end up at the same party. And it was at that party I witnessed Liam and Audrey fight for the first time. It escalated into physical violence. Piecing together their screaming match, the reason was simple: Audrey felt Liam had changed. She constantly tested him to see if he still loved her. Her method of testing him was hanging out with her ex-boyfriend, threatening Liam that they were going to get back together. Coincidentally, both of her ex-boyfriends were at this party. Finally, Liam said flatly: “Go ahead and get back together with him then!” “Liam, I knew it! You don’t even love me anymore!” Audrey hysterically threw a beer bottle at him. A shard of glass grazed the corner of his eye, sending a stream of blood down his jaw. I stood quietly in the crowd, watching them go from arguing, to fighting, to breaking up. I avoided Liam’s gaze when he looked my way, pulling out my phone and scrolling aimlessly. Audrey probably didn’t understand that love is the one thing that cannot withstand constant testing. Liam drank heavily that night. When the party ended, I walked outside and saw Caleb. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his expression totally entirely cold. Seeing me, his long legs stepped in my direction, but he was halted by Liam calling out, “Caleb.” Caleb looked at the heavily intoxicated Liam being held up by his friends. He frowned and said coldly: “If it’s not working, break up early!” His sharp gaze swept over the unusually quiet Audrey standing nearby, and then he walked straight toward me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “415137”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The rising starlet posted a photo of a diamond-encrusted car key. The caption read: “Finally received my third supercar gift. ❤️” Sharp-eyed netizens immediately recognized it. It was the serial number 001—a limited-edition custom Bugatti, rumored to have been purchased by Silas Thorne, the youngest tech billionaire in Silicon Valley. Fans went into a frenzy: [Is this an engagement gift?!] [Power couple goals! A beautiful star and a tech king. Silas is so generous.] I pulled an identical key out of my bag and tossed it onto the desk of the man currently leading a board meeting. “Did you buy two of these?” I asked. The man looked at me with a pouting face. “There’s only one custom-made in the world. And you’re still complaining that the color is too flashy.” 01 I’m Summer Miller, a mid-tier actress known more for my acting chops than my social media presence. To promote our new drama, The Dearest, the entire cast was invited to the most popular live-streamed variety show of the year. The first game segment: call your “dearest person” and invite them to the studio. This network was notorious for “eating people alive”—they didn’t care about privacy. They displayed our contact lists on a giant screen for the audience to choose. Bella Sterling, who was currently trending due to a leaked “secret romance,” was the first to take out her phone. The name at the top of her list was: “My Love Silas.” The live chat exploded: [OMFG, it’s really Silas Thorne! My ship is sailing!] [Our girl did it! Being the girlfriend of the richest man in Silicon Valley… talk about status!] [Call him! We want to hear his voice! We want to share the luck of the wealthy!] Bella looked at the chat, blushing. “Don’t be so direct, guys. He’s shy.” That sentence was basically a soft launch of her relationship with Silas. I looked at the screen, which was nearly covered by heart emojis, and frowned. The Silas Thorne they were talking about was sleeping next to me this morning. How did he become someone else’s fiancé? Last week, during a live stream, Bella “accidentally” showed off a flashy car key and gave a vague introduction. Netizens identified the car immediately and linked her to Silas. She had left the stream in a hurry, acting like a girl caught in a secret love affair. Then, a “insider” account called “Branch-and-Knowing” started posting “leaked” interactions between her and Silas from three years ago. Overnight, that account gained a million followers. I was so annoyed I deleted my own secret alt account. As for that car—it was my 26th birthday gift from Silas. I hated how high-profile it was, so it had been sitting in my underground garage for a year. Maybe it was all a coincidence. Bella never explicitly named Silas. And since she had to make a call now, she wouldn’t play a game that could be easily exposed… right? I watched the screen, waiting. My expression was caught by the cameras and misinterpreted by the audience: [Who’s the girl next to Bella? What’s with that face?] [That’s Summer Miller. Supposedly a “serious actress,” but she can’t even hide her jealousy.] [She’s definitely green with envy that Bella has a billionaire boyfriend. If she’s like this on a live show, imagine how she bullies Bella on set.] The host saw the traffic spiking and grinned. He walked over to Bella. “The fans are so excited. Bella, if we make this call, Mr. Thorne won’t be angry, will he?” Bella turned red, looking shy. “He won’t. He’s… very gentle.” The chat lost it: [??? Gentle? Who is she talking about?] [LMAO, first time I’ve heard the ruthless Silas Thorne described as ‘gentle.’] [Girl, you are my queen. I work at Thorne Tech—can you ask him if he’s physically incapable of smiling at meetings?] Her words were a silent confirmation. The host got even more excited. “Mr. Thorne is a busy man. Even though Thorne Tech is right next to the studio, he probably doesn’t have time to come, right?” Bella gave the host a playful nudge. “It’s the weekend, and he usually has board meetings. But if I call… he might find a way.” The production crew knew how to build suspense. They immediately cut to another guest. Everyone looked envious except for me. The host walked over to me specifically. “Summer, your contact list is quite interesting too. If we call someone you’d rather we didn’t… would you be nervous?” I held back an eye-roll. “Nervous? No. But isn’t it a privacy violation to show a guest’s contacts without consent?” The host’s face stiffened for a second. He laughed awkwardly. “It’s for the sake of fairness and reality.” “It seems Summer isn’t happy with our arrangement. This makes me even more curious about who we’ll find in her list.” My list was put on the big screen. Two names at the top caught everyone’s eye. [Holy sh*t. Sponsor A and Sponsor B?? I thought she was a serious actress? Is she just sleeping her way to the top?] [The industry is doomed. Even the ‘serious’ ones have sugar daddies.] [Don’t worry, we have Bella! She is the gold standard!] [Choose Sponsor A! When Silas Thorne arrives, he should clean up this industry!] I looked at the “Sponsor A” and “Sponsor B” labels and felt a headache coming on. I blamed Silas. When he found out I had my dad’s number saved as “Sponsor Dad,” he threw a fit for a whole day. “Babe, your dad raised you, but I’m responsible for your future. Don’t I deserve to be your sponsor too?” “Babe, I’m not jealous of your dad. But you won’t even drive the car I bought you. You’re still driving that old Mercedes.” “Babe, can we at least be on equal footing? Change my contact name.” “Honey? My Love? Hubby?” Eventually, he settled for “Sponsor B” just to be on the same list as my dad. 02 The host looked like he’d struck gold. He gave me a look of half-pity, half-scorn. “Summer, looking at the audience’s enthusiasm… if we call these two, our show might get banned for being too spicy.” I laughed. “I doubt that. It’s just that they’re busy men. They might not pick up.” The chat erupted: [She’s scared! Call them now!] [Who is Sponsor A? If he doesn’t show up, we’ll know it’s a scandal.] Bella leaned in, whispering “kindly” next to me. “Summer, if you’re scared, don’t do it. I don’t want this to ruin your career.” “I can tell the director to blur the names later.” “If things get bad, I’ll ask Silas to help you wipe the trending topics.” She seemed to forget she was wearing a mic. Her “whisper” was heard by everyone. The chat showered her with praise while she “realized” her mistake and apologized. “Please don’t judge Summer too hard. She’s a great actress. I hope everyone focuses on our drama The Dearest instead.” The host played along. “The audience has voted.” “Bella, please make your call.” Bella dialed “My Love Silas.” It was picked up after two rings. A deep, baritone voice answered: “Bella?” My heart skipped. The voice sounded about 80% like Silas, but… off. “I’m sorry, I’m in a meeting and can’t get away,” the voice said. Bella pouted. “You’re always so busy. I haven’t seen you in forever.” The voice chuckled. “Be good. I’ll have a surprise for you when you get back.” She hung up and looked at everyone apologetically. “He’s too busy. Can I call someone else?” The host was now completely subservient to her. “Of course! Who would you like to call?” Bella scrolled and stopped at “Charles Miller.” “I’ll call my dad. He should be free.” The host gasped. The chat was flooded with “WTF”s. [Bella is the daughter of Charles Miller?! The real estate tycoon?! Silas Thorne’s girlfriend and Charles Miller’s daughter? What kind of god-tier family is this?] [She’s a literal princess!] I was now certain Bella was building a “Golden Girl” persona. I didn’t know if Silas had a secret second girlfriend, but I knew for a fact that my dad only had one daughter—me! My parents were so sickeningly in love that I was an “accident.” There was zero chance of a second accident. But when she dialed, my dad actually picked up. “Bella? Why are you calling me?” Bella used her sweetest voice. “Dad, I’m on a variety show. I need my ‘dearest person.’ Can you come?” The other side hesitated for less than a second. “Of course.” Bella’s face glowed. The host was speechless. If Bella could bring these titans to the show, their ratings would hit the stratosphere. Then the host turned to me. I looked terrible. I’d known my dad’s voice for over twenty years. I couldn’t be mistaken. What was my dad hiding from my mom? “Bella is truly extraordinary,” the host flattered her, then shoved the mic in my face. “Summer, you look pale. Are you actually scared now?” “Everyone has chosen Sponsor A. We’re dialing. You can’t run.” The host didn’t even give me the phone. He dialed for me. The same voice that had just spoken to Bella appeared again. “Princess? What’s up?” My dad’s voice was natural and affectionate. The chat went insane: [Wait, that voice… why does it sound so familiar? Is Summer’s ‘sponsor’ Bella’s dad?] [The industry is so messy! I love it!] [I’m screen-recording this. This is history!] Despite the chaos in my head, I couldn’t interrogate my dad on live TV. I asked him to come to the show. He actually refused me. “It’s bad timing today, sweetie. I already promised someone else I’d go to their show.” “She called first. You know us businessmen value integrity. I can’t break my word.” “Next time, okay?” The host hung up before I could reply, acting as if he were protecting the audience from my “breakdown.” Two girls called the same man. He only said yes to Bella. The hierarchy was clear. I was being publicly humiliated. I glared at Bella. She didn’t look like my dad at all. Why would he reject his daughter for her? I was going to call my mom and snitch the second this show ended. Bella looked at me, her face pale and “fragile,” acting like a victim. The chat was full of pity for her: [Imagine finding out your dad has a mistress on your own show.] [Poor Bella. It’s okay, we love you. You have Silas.] The host looked at me with mockery. “Summer, your Sponsor A rejected you.” “Should we call Sponsor B?” “Do we even need to ask who he is?” I smirked, matched his mockery. “What a coincidence. His name is Silas Thorne, too.” [LOL, Summer is delusional!] [Silas just rejected Bella because he was busy. You think he’ll pick up for a mistress?] [Wait, let me guess. Is she going to claim Silas is her brother next because they have the same surname? Oh wait, they don’t.] 03 The call was placed. Two rings. Then, it was declined. The studio fell into a painful silence. [The ultimate face-slapping!] [Sponsor A at least picked up. Sponsor B just hung up on her. He probably guessed he was being recorded.] [Look at her face. This is the variety show moment of the decade!] The host waited for the chatter to peak before speaking. “Summer, two rejections. We have a penalty for that.” Before I could speak, Bella piped up. “We’re all girls here. Summer is already having a hard time. Let’s skip the penalty.” “When my dad gets here, I’ll ask him to give everyone a big bonus, okay?” The few people supporting me in the chat disappeared. Everyone was on Team Bella. Director-level people who usually praised my acting were now keeping their distance. The entertainment industry is a shark tank. One wrong move and you’re at the bottom. Bella Sterling was the “Princess of the Coast.” No one wanted to offend her. I had always been low-profile because I wanted people to judge my acting, not my family. The result: my acting was top-tier, but I couldn’t even prove who I was. Suddenly, “Sponsor B” called back. The studio went silent again. I answered. A deep, magnetic voice filled the room. “Princess, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hang up.” “My assistant had my phone. I’ve already docked his bonus for a week. Can you forgive us?” The voice was noble, yet it carried a hint of… desperation. [Wait… that voice… why does it sound so much like Silas?] [Don’t be ridiculous. Have you ever heard Silas Thorne sound so submissive?] [I bet Summer hired a voice actor. So calculated! I bet 100 bucks a Silas lookalike shows up later.] I was about to invite him when Bella laughed. “Summer, if you can’t find someone, don’t force it.” “Even if the voice is similar, won’t you get exposed when he shows up?” Usually, guests weren’t allowed to interrupt a call, but the host didn’t stop Bella. “Bella, you’re too kind. You don’t want to see Summer embarrassed.” “Summer, tell you what. Call someone else, and we’ll let you go.” The whole show reeked of “mean girl” energy. I checked the chat and sighed. Modern netizens were too easy to fool. Back in my college days, we would have Googled every detail and found the truth in minutes… Silas guessed I was recording. He chuckled. “Are they bullying my girl?” Bella cut in with a sweet voice. “Sir, we’re actually helping Summer.” “She’s building a persona for the audience, and it’s going to crash. I’m warning her for her own good. And I’m warning you not to be fooled by her face.” “Heh,” Silas’s voice turned ice-cold. He hung up immediately. I could picture him in his office, eyebrows raised in annoyance. The host was still trying to figure out what to do. I looked at my vibrating phone. “He’s coming,” I said simply. 04 The production crew wasn’t about to miss this. They started running promo banners: [CHARLES MILLER ARRIVES AT THE STUDIO] [WILL SUMMER MILLER’S SPONSOR SHOW UP?] Silas sent me a text: [Babe, I’m coming to slap their faces.] [Can I have a reward tonight?] I didn’t reply. I was too focused on the Dad-Bella situation. The host moved the show along. “We’ve prepared ingredient kits. Cook a meal for your dearest person.” I opened my kit. The network really was biased. Bella’s kit: Caviar, Wagyu beef, broccoli, lobster, abalone. Mine: Eggs, cabbage, and some Dungeness crab. Bella gasped. “The network is so thoughtful. They know exactly what my dad likes.” “This caviar brand is the only one he eats.” “I’ll definitely make a dinner my dad loves.” “Summer, does your Silas like cabbage?” “If you’ve never had the good stuff, I can share some ingredients with you.” I looked at that caviar. My stomach turned. Who told her my dad liked caviar? When it first became trendy, my dad bought a whole crate. It was salty and fishy. It couldn’t compare to a good home-cooked meal. Because we didn’t want to waste money, my dad and I were forced to finish the whole crate. Ever since then, we both hated the sight of it. “Summer, do you even know how to use caviar in a dish?” “Your ingredients are a bit sad. Should we just make a joint table?” “No thanks,” I said, my tone sharp. I didn’t want to see caviar. Not even a little bit. I walked to my station and started prepping. The chat was livid: [What a brat! Bella was being nice, and Summer is so rude.] [She’s probably jealous she’s never had caviar.] Bella was performing for the cameras, acting like a delicate princess who had never touched a stove. I, on the other hand, was cleaning the crab with professional speed. Did people think a girl raised by a self-made tycoon wouldn’t know her way around a kitchen? I made a full table of comfort food, including a specific soft-boiled egg with a secret soy-glaze. That was for Silas. Despite his billions, he had a “simple palate”—he loved that specific sauce. The studio doors flew open. The network president himself was leading a group of executives, escorting a man into the room. Someone gasped. “It’s Silas Thorne. Silas Thorne actually came.” Bella stopped searing her beef. She looked toward the door in disbelief. Silas was in a custom suit. His sharp, handsome features couldn’t hide the coldness he honed in the boardroom. But the moment his eyes landed on the stage, his aura shifted. [Wow, he’s looking at Bella! Did you see his eyes soften?] [The surprise he mentioned was coming here! So romantic!] [Summer said she invited him too. Let’s see if he even acknowledges her.] Silas walked toward the stage, leaving the network president in the dust. Everyone stopped what they were doing. The host was the first to recover. “Mr. Thorne! What a grand surprise.” “Bella, come greet your boyfriend.” The host pulled Bella and pushed her toward Silas. Bella “stumbled” gracefully and landed right against Silas’s chest. She looked up with stars in her eyes. “Silas… you came?” “Did you see the show? Are you here to defend me?” “Summer didn’t mean it. She doesn’t have your status; she didn’t know better.” She was playing both sides—acting generous while making me look like a bully. But Silas didn’t act like a gentleman. He pushed her away. His voice was freezing. “I am here to defend someone.” “But I heard someone was bullying my princess.” 05 Bella’s face went white. “Silas… did you change your mind?” “You said you’d take care of me…” Silas looked at her as if trying to remember who she was. The host tried to save the situation. “Mr. Thorne probably isn’t used to the cameras. Look, Bella made this for you.” “A princess like her, cooking with her own hands… you have to try it.” Silas seemed to remember something. He walked over to the cooking station with the host. “Seared Wagyu, caviar, lobster soup… Silas, I made this just for you,” Bella said, regaining her confidence and grabbing his sleeve. Wait. Didn’t she say she was making it for her dad? Now it’s for Silas? What’s my dad going to eat? Caviar? Silas looked at his sleeve with disgust and took off his blazer, tossing it onto the floor. “Burnt beef, cheap caviar, and wasted lobster?” “Miss Sterling, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to poison me.” Bella’s face went from white to red to purple. She looked ready to shatter. She looked at the chat for comfort, but the screen was blank. The audience was just as stunned as she was. Silas didn’t look at her again. He walked toward me with a look of pure adoration that made me cringe slightly. Has he been reading too many romance novels? Stop with the CEO tropes, Silas. It’s embarrassing. Regardless of my internal judgment, Silas took the mic from the host. “I’m very picky,” he said to the camera. “I only eat food made by one person.” “But my wife is a princess; she rarely cooks.” “Thank you for today. I’m a lucky man.” He looked at me, basically begging for a gold star. So this was his “slap.” I have to admit… it felt good. The chat finally woke up: [Silas Thorne’s sharp tongue is legendary, but using it on his girlfriend?] [Wait, did you guys miss it? Bella isn’t his girlfriend.] [So Summer wasn’t lying? Silas is here for her?] [This is confusing. Bella definitely knows him. She wouldn’t be this bold in front of a stranger.] [Bella has the car key. What does Summer have?] [Summer has the ‘exclusive’ look. Look at Silas’s eyes… he’s head over heels.] The audience was split. Silas was clearly here for me, but that nine-figure supercar key wasn’t something you could just fake. I was curious too. Where did she get the key? When Bella posted that photo, I checked my bag. My key was right there. It hadn’t moved. 06 “Babe, how was I?” Silas whispered in my ear. “Do I get a reward tonight?” His closeness made Bella snap. She walked over and pushed me aside, looking at Silas with tears. “Silas, you promised Silas Jr. that you’d take care of me!” “It’s only been a few months. Have you forgotten?” “I thought when you made that promise, it meant we were together.” “Seeing you like this… it hurts me.” She started sobbing. Silas didn’t wait for her to finish. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his arms, his aura turning predatory. “Which hand did you use to push her?” “You have no class in front of the cameras. I can only imagine what you’re like in private.” The host was sweating. This was a live-stream disaster. I squeezed Silas’s hand, telling him to watch his image. I still had to work in this town. Bella was stunned. “Silas…” Silas sneered. “Silas Jr. went back to his ex months ago. Didn’t you know?” “Miss Sterling, he used me as a shield to dump you, and you actually believed it?” “Don’t act innocent. I know exactly what kind of person hangs out with my playboy cousin.” Silas Thorne never cared about anyone’s “face.” Bella looked like she was about to faint. The host tried to pivot. “Bella, Mr. Thorne… let’s resolve the misunderstandings later.” “Mr. Miller is on his way. Let’s keep things civil.” Bella wiped her tears, acting “strong,” and went back to her station to fiddle with her burnt beef. The chat was reeling: [Turns out I was the clown! I apologize to Summer.] [Bella played us. She got dumped by Silas’s cousin and tried to claim the big boss.] [But wait… Bella is still the Miller heiress. Our coastal princess.] [Is Silas Thorne really… a house husband? Look at him cleaning the station.] Silas had rolled up his sleeves and was cleaning up the mess I’d made while prepping. I was a good cook, but a messy one. Silas usually cleaned up after me at home, so it felt natural. I sat on a stool and watched him. Maybe getting married at 26 wasn’t a bad idea. Bella couldn’t take it. She stopped what she was doing and yelled at Silas. “Mr. Thorne, you say I’m a fake, but what about Summer Miller?” “If she knew you, she could have said so. She played vague to make people wonder.” “You don’t see girls like her in your circles, but we have plenty of them in Hollywood.” “She’s a ‘Sugar Baby’! She’s using her face and her acting to climb the ladder! It’s all for money!” The chat was confused again: [Is the princess losing her cool? Calling someone a sugar baby in front of her man?] [Summer’s acting is good. Maybe Silas is being played?] [I’m a Bella fan. She’s probably just worried Silas is being scammed. Her dad is Charles Miller, a philanthropist! He’ll set things straight when he gets here.] I looked back at her and smiled. “Bella, thank you for praising my acting.” Silas stopped cleaning. He narrowed his eyes. “Sugar baby? Do you know the market value of the Thorne Real Estate portfolio?” “It’s fine. I like being her sponsor.” Bella stomped her foot, pouting. She didn’t see Silas looking at me for approval again. “Babe, can the reward be a whole night?” I was tempted by his handsome, desperate face. I nodded. He started cleaning even faster. 07 The show was halfway through. All guests were present except for my dad. The host tentatively asked, “Bella, will Mr. Miller be joining us?” Bella regained her high-profile attitude. “My dad is at the station. The network president is bringing him up!” “The truth is about to come out!” She gave me a pointed look. The chat was buzzing again: [The final showdown!] [Bella’s backup is here! She’s been bullied so much today.] [Summer might have the billionaire boyfriend, but Bella has the tycoon dad. Let’s see who wins.] A middle-aged man in a sharp tailored blazer walked in. Silas immediately put down the towel. The tech king of Silicon Valley actually looked nervous. “Dad! You’re finally here! I’ve been bullied so much!” Bella ran off the stage and gave my dad a huge hug. My dad didn’t seem to notice me at first. He patted Bella’s shoulder. “Bella, don’t worry. I’m here. Who dared to bully my girl in public?” Bella acted bashful. “They didn’t really bully me. They just… mocked my status.” [Mr. Miller, defend your daughter! Don’t let the billionaire scare you!] My dad walked onto the stage, looking righteous. “Status? We live in a modern democracy! Are we still ranking people by bloodlines?!” Then his eyes landed on me. He froze. He looked between me and Silas. I stood up, blinking my big eyes. “Dad.” “Care to explain?” The chat went nuclear: [LMAO, Summer is really going for it! She called him Dad!] [I knew it! She’s going to claim he’s her dad now!] [The Miller family only has one daughter, and Bella already claimed him!] My dad stood there, his tanned face turning a shade of guilty red. “Princess… why are you here?” “What a… what a coincidence. Ha… Silas is here too. Haha.” Bella grabbed my dad’s arm. “Dad, it’s Summer Miller. She made me lose so much face.” My dad looked at Bella, confused. I chuckled. “Dad, where did this ‘secret daughter’ come from?” The host was lost. “Mr. Miller… both of them called you Dad. Do you have two daughters?” My dad didn’t answer. He slowly put on his reading glasses, took out his phone, and spent two minutes scrolling through the live chat history. The studio was silent for two minutes. Finally, he took off his glasses. “I didn’t realize what was happening when I walked in. I apologize for the confusion.” He gently removed Bella’s hand from his arm. “I, Charles Miller, have only ever had one daughter—Summer Miller.” “I am a loyal husband. I do not have children out of wedlock.” “As for Miss Sterling… her father saved my life years ago. I promised to look after her and gave her the title of ‘goddaughter’ as a formality.” “But that title wasn’t meant to be used like this.” “Using my name to bully people on live TV… I can only imagine what you do in private.” “As of now, I am revoking that title. You are no longer my goddaughter.” “Let the audience be my witness. Summer Miller is my only child.” My dad was a man of integrity. He couldn’t stand people using his name for malice. Bella had crossed his ultimate line. She lost all her strength and slumped to the floor. My dad turned to me, whispering. “Sweetie, please don’t tell your mom. I’ll do anything.” “Silas, help me out here?” They both looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. The host interrupted, trying to salvage something. “Mr. Miller… Bella made a whole table of food for you.” “High-end ingredients! Network-funded!” My dad, who hated waste, followed the host over. Bella saw a final chance. She scrambled up and followed them, hoping to win my dad back with her “effort.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “415138”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“So you never even liked me? Chloe just paid you to string me along?” The arrogant young heir standing in front of me looked as black as a thundercloud. I lowered my head, drowning in guilt and regret. “I’m sorry…” “Get the hell out!” His eyes were completely red. I felt a twinge of pity, but I was more afraid of getting hit. The guy was notorious for his terrible temper. So, I grabbed my bag and bolted. Faintly, I heard the sound of glass shattering behind me, followed by a roar: “I tell you to get out and you actually leave?! You liar!” It must be my imagination. Definitely my imagination! 1 My roommate wore a Vacheron Constantin watch, carried a Hermès Himalayan Birkin, and wore Graff necklaces. We should have been mortal enemies based on social class alone, but when she came back from the Fourth of July weekend, she actually gave me a Chanel bag. What she said was even more unbelievable: “I think you’re pretty. I want to be friends.” “Friends? From this day forward, I am your humble servant!” This rich girl was perfect in every way, except she was always trying to bribe me. We were having a perfectly nice dinner when she scrolled through Twitter, her face turning red with anger. She looked at me pleadingly. “Emma, do me a favor. Please.” “What is it? Tell me,” I asked, suddenly feeling a sense of impending doom. The rich girl had an older brother who went to the university next door. His name was Carter Hayes. The name was pretty famous around here. Playboy, heartbreaker, incredibly handsome, filthy rich, terrible temper. The classic spoiled heir. And she had the absolute audacity to ask me to seduce her brother, Carter. “Why would I do that? Chloe, are you crazy?” “You are exactly his type! He’ll definitely fall for it. Please, Emma…” Chloe’s eyes actually seemed to well up with tears. But I still didn’t get it. She angrily tapped on a Twitter post to show me. It was bad enough that Carter had bullied her since they were kids. But now, the girl she hated most in the world had gotten into Carter’s university and had her sights set on him. Her brother was a massive playboy, and that girl was a manipulative snake. If they actually got together, Chloe’s life would be an absolute nightmare. She needed me to nip this horrific possibility in the bud. What kind of childish logic was this? “Ten thousand.” “Twenty thousand.” “Fifty thousand.” A person shouldn’t have such a rigid bottom line that they refuse cold, hard cash. “Okay, okay, okay. Your humble servant is at your command.” 2 Actually, I had never taken Chloe’s money before, but I felt I needed to cultivate the excellent quality of bowing to the almighty dollar. So, every time she accidentally said “thousand” instead of “dollars,” my resolve crumbled. But now, standing in a super short dress next to Chloe in a club her brother frequented, I was seriously regretting my life choices. “There’s my brother!” Chloe excitedly grabbed my wrist, pointing to the tallest guy in a group walking through the door. The lighting in the club was dim and suggestive. But Carter still stood out like a beacon. No wonder he was a playboy. He was undeniably gorgeous, and he had the swagger to match. Wasting no time, Chloe dragged me right up to Carter. “Carter, transfer some money to me. I blew through my allowance this month.” “Do I owe you something?” Carter didn’t even look up. He cupped his hand to block the draft and lit a cigarette. The brief flare of the lighter illuminated his striking features, making me almost forget to breathe. He was insanely hot. That single sentence ignited the rich girl’s fury. She let go of me, ready to “debate” her brother. Carter casually pushed his sister aside with one hand. As he looked up, his gaze landed right on me. His dark eyes instantly filled with interest. “How much do you need?” Everyone in the vicinity was stunned by that question. “A million, probably.” Chloe suppressed her anger, haughtily holding her hand out to her brother, while secretly shooting me a meaningful look. See? I told you he’d fall for you. I’m innocent. I literally haven’t done anything. Carter looked down and transferred the money. Once Chloe received it, she grabbed me, ready to leave. “Why are you running? You took the money. Aren’t you going to sit and hang out with your big brother for a bit?” The word “brother” coming out of Carter’s mouth sounded completely wrong. But Chloe, acting like she owed him now, reluctantly stopped and dragged me to sit in a corner booth. As the vibe picked up, Chloe got totally into it, completely forgetting why she came here in the first place, and started playing dice and drinking with some random hot guy. Fortunately, Carter was very proactive. Before I knew it, he was sitting right next to me. His eyes slowly swept over my bare legs. He slid a glass of fruity cocktail toward me. “Want a drink?” My mom always told me never to take drinks from strangers. I clutched the edge of my dress and shook my head. Carter let out a soft chuckle. “Afraid I spiked it?” After saying that, he took a sip from the glass himself, then lowered his eyes and started playing on his phone. All the way until the end of the night. It seemed like I was just a classic case of an overconfident girl imagining things. He wasn’t interested in me at all. I helped a very drunk Chloe out the door. “Give me your number. Text me when she gets to the dorm. If she throws up, let me know.” Carter pulled up his QR code for me to scan. I scanned it, silently cursing him in my head. If you actually cared about your sister, you’d drive her back yourself! But on the outside, I gave him a perfectly innocent, sweet smile. “Okay, I will.” 3 After getting Chloe back to the dorm, I texted Carter: “We’re at the dorm. Chloe is already in bed asleep.” “K.” He was so cold I didn’t even know how to respond. I had no choice but to regretfully go wash up. When I got back, I found out he had actually “liked” every single post on my Instagram. Was this… a silent, aggressive flirtation? Truly a master playboy. He knew exactly what he was doing. Not knowing his type, I didn’t dare make a reckless move. But I was sure of one thing: a spoiled heir like him would never tolerate someone disrespecting him. Like earlier at the club, when I refused his drink, he was definitely annoyed. So, I sensibly went over to his Instagram to “like” all his posts in return, only to find out his profile was private to me. “Did you block me on Instagram?” “?” That single question mark left me speechless. “I saw you liked all my posts, so I wanted to return the favor, but I can’t see anything.” “I didn’t block you. I just don’t post.” Well, that killed the conversation. I saw it was getting late, so I didn’t try to force a connection. I tossed my phone aside and went to sleep. I didn’t expect to wake up the next morning and find several messages from Carter. “Playing Mafia tomorrow night. We need one more. You in?” “Don’t want to play?” “Found someone else. Never mind.” “You went to sleep? This early?” I really wanted to laugh. Maybe his success as a playboy was purely based on his looks. He actually had zero game. No! It’s an act! Realizing he was playing the “innocent boy” card, I suddenly felt a surge of competitive spirit. Life is short, you have to find ways to entertain yourself. “I fell asleep yesterday, but I really want to play Mafia… Could you ask me first next time?” Carter didn’t reply all morning. True to the rumors, he had a massive ego. It wasn’t until I was having lunch that he finally messaged back. “Just woke up. 6 PM tonight. I’ll send you the location later.” I fell asleep early, so he “just woke up.” This guy was petty and vengeful. Thinking about it, I couldn’t help but smile and replied with an “Okay.” Chloe leaned over. “Why are you smiling so happily… My brother? Let me tell you, do NOT fall for his tricks. He’s a total player, a complete jerk! Really! You should only be after his money, his face, and his body. Oh, and pissing off that manipulative snake while you’re at it.” For the Mafia game tonight, Chloe was convinced the “snake” would definitely be there. So she insisted on coming with me to play wingman and piss the girl off. Sure enough, when we arrived, a girl in a white dress was standing next to Carter, looking like a stiff breeze could blow her over. Soft, harmless. Carter was looking down, listening to her talk. He even reached out to steady her when she “almost tripped.” The scene looked quite picturesque. Truly a playboy. Wasn’t he afraid I, the new “fish” on his line, would see this and bolt? Carter’s gaze happened to sweep over us. He naturally withdrew his hand, and even put a little distance between himself and the “snake.” He was pretty good at acting. The “snake” naturally noticed Carter’s sudden distance and followed his gaze. Even though the rich girl beside me was looking at her like she wanted to eat her alive, she actually smiled at us gently. “Long time no see.” The four of us walked toward the board game cafe. It was a bit of a maze inside, taking a while to navigate. During the walk, Chloe constantly and relentlessly threw passive-aggressive shade at the “snake.” But the “snake” acted as if she couldn’t understand Chloe’s insults, remaining perfectly gentle the entire time. Chloe was getting absolutely destroyed. Even though I was pinching her arm, I couldn’t stop her anger from escalating. Finally, Carter stopped walking and frowned at Chloe. “Is this how Mom and Dad taught you to speak to people?” “You and I are exactly the same, Carter, so don’t even start! You think you’re so polite and cultured? You’re only defending Maya because you think she’s pretty!” Honestly, I had never seen a brother and sister with such a terrible relationship. Carter clenched his jaw, narrowing his eyes to suppress his anger. But that “Get the hell out” was practically bubbling on his lips. If he said it and Chloe ran away, I would definitely have to chase after her. Wouldn’t that mean the “snake” won today? No wonder Chloe couldn’t beat her. I quickly grabbed the hand Carter was pointing at his sister with. “Don’t be mad. Chloe didn’t mean it.” It was bizarre. The young master was like an over-inflated balloon that suddenly lost all its air. He looked down at our joined hands, then glanced at me, let out a soft “Hmph,” turned around, and kept walking. Maya shot me a look and quickly followed him. Only Chloe stood frozen like a little kid, part angry, part completely shocked. I pulled her outside and gave her a full analysis of the situation. The rich girl, who wasn’t actually stupid, instantly understood. She hugged me, praising my intelligence, and swore she would never target Maya directly and hand her free points again. She would absolutely not drag me down! Okay, let’s hope so. 4 Since everyone hadn’t arrived yet, we started playing Truth or Dare. Carter asked me, “Just based on first impressions, who here would you want to date?” The moment he asked that question, the atmosphere ignited. Everyone started cheering and hooting. “I guess I’d want to date whoever asked the question,” I replied, looking into his narrow, dark eyes with a smile. “What if someone else had asked?” “That’s a question for the next round.” The cute guy sitting next to Carter slapped his shoulder. “Look how anxious our Mr. Hayes is! Hahaha, when it’s my turn, I’ll definitely ask her for you!” I don’t know if my luck was just too good, but from then on until everyone arrived, I was never picked for Truth or Dare again. During the Mafia game, I drew a Mafia card and aggressively fake-claimed the Detective role. I successfully gained everyone’s trust and led the Mafia team to an easy victory. Carter, sitting next to me, propped his head on his hand and smiled at me. “Are all pretty girls this good at lying?” His eyes were so dark and bright. That hint of teasing made my heart race. Feeling my ears getting hot, I instinctively rubbed them. Before I could say anything, Maya, sitting across from us, complained to Carter in a whiny, spoiled tone. “Carter, I told you I was the Detective, but you still believed her. Next time I draw Detective, don’t be so foolish!” Carter lazily looked up and chuckled. “What if she actually draws it next time?” “Holy shit! Carter, you’re brutal!” Carter didn’t keep his voice down, and the people who heard him started hollering and cheering. In that atmosphere, even my face felt like it was burning. Only Chloe was thrilled. She pulled on my arm, her eyes shining with admiration, then smugly lifted her chin at Maya across the table. This suddenly brought me back to reality. I was almost completely won over by him… Help! Was the rich girl really throwing me into the fire? Her brother was so good at flirting, how was I supposed to resist? I could already see myself becoming the discarded victim of a playboy, completely heartbroken. Ugh, my life was a tragedy. After the game, everyone decided to get some late-night food. Carter still sat next to me. He even did something that completely threw me off guard. He ordered a plate of eel and asked if I wanted to try it. I looked at the long, slimy-looking things and politely shook my head. They looked too ugly; I couldn’t imagine swallowing one. “It’s really tender, tastes great.” Carter smiled and dropped the eel into the hot pot. “Then let me try a piece?” He didn’t say anything, just nodded. When the eel was cooked, the young master actually fished a piece out himself and put it in my bowl. Looking completely natural, he said, “Try it. If you don’t like it, give it to me.” I stared in shock at the young master, who was now looking down and eating his own food. The shock in my heart couldn’t be calmed for a long time. I wasn’t the only one shocked. Carter hadn’t lowered his voice, so basically everyone at the table heard. They looked at Carter as if they had seen a ghost, but no one dared to cheer or hoot like before. They were as quiet as mice. While waiting for our Ubers outside the restaurant, Carter stood next to me, playing on his phone. “Was the food good?” “Yeah.” “It was my treat.” Was I supposed to send him a Venmo request to split it? “How much was it? I’ll Venmo you.” That seemed to offend the young master. The moment the words left my mouth, I realized my mistake, but it was too late. The young master narrowed his eyes and looked me up and down. “?” His eyes were full of danger. “Uh… what do you want then?” Carter stood up straight, turned his head away, and didn’t look at me, only revealing his bright red ear tips. “I want to be rewarded with one ‘Truth’.” I let out a confused “Huh?”, and he naturally and eagerly blurted out his question. He spoke quite fast, seeming a little embarrassed. “So earlier… if someone else had asked the question, would you still have wanted to date them?” I felt like I could hear my own heartbeat drumming against my eardrums. Thank God the Uber arrived. Chloe ran over and pulled me into the car. The young master’s expression was incredibly strained. He even took a step with his long legs, as if trying to chase after us, but forced himself to stop. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lowered his eyes, and lit it, looking wild and untamed. So handsome it made my brain fuzzy. I rolled down the window. “No!” The car pulled away. In the play of light and shadow, Carter stood rooted to the spot, watching us. Even though all that remained was a tall silhouette and the glowing cherry of a cigarette, it was impossible to look away. The classic trope of the prodigal son turning his life around—no matter how cliché it is, when it actually happens in real life, who could possibly resist? A notification popped up on my phone. It was Carter: “Then think about me more.” 5 As soon as I walked out of class, I saw Carter’s text. He asked if I wanted to grab lunch. “I just got out of class. Where are you?” “Look up.” I saw the message, looked up in confusion, and saw Carter’s long legs dangling lazily as he sat on the second-floor windowsill, smiling down at me. He looked as charismatic as humanly possible. Actually, ever since that late-night food run, Carter and I had been in this incredibly ambiguous phase. But for a whole two weeks, we hadn’t seen each other once. Carter tugged at the collar of his black t-shirt and strolled leisurely toward me. In the five seconds it took him to walk over, some girl was already blushing and trying to hit on him. He leaned down to listen to her, looking natural and relaxed, even letting out a soft chuckle. I couldn’t ignore the sudden, inexplicable sourness in my chest. But then, the two people on the stairs suddenly looked toward me. Carter pointed a long finger right at me, and the girl blushed and ran off. I felt like this was the moment I should ask what he and that girl were talking about. But I suddenly remembered Chloe telling me to never fall for her brother’s tricks. So I just walked up to Carter with a smile: “What brings you to our campus?” He probably didn’t expect me not to care about what just happened. He paused, looked down at me with a deep, dark gaze, but didn’t say anything about it. “Came to your school for a guest lecture.” I took him to the dining hall, swiped my meal card for his lunch, and walked him to the campus gates. We chatted about random things the whole way, acting as perfectly normal as two awkward old classmates. “Are you free this weekend?” Carter asked, looking at the students passing by the gates, his gaze not stopping on me. Going out to play again? I’m a good student. “I have to present at a group seminar this weekend. It’s pretty important, so I probably won’t have time. Why?” “Nothing.” Carter nodded and walked away, looking quite cold. I felt inexplicably distracted during my afternoon classes. I didn’t even notice when the professor called on me. It was Chloe who shook me and whispered the answer. “Are you spacing out because of my brother?” Chloe’s expression was a mix of anger and betrayal, as if I had backstabbed her. My heart clenched, and I felt a sudden, inexplicable guilt. “How is that possible?” “Good. You better not fall for that jerk. He’s such an asshole! It’s his birthday this weekend. He’s throwing a huge party at his house, invited a ton of people, including Maya. I just asked him if he invited you, and he actually said, ‘Why would I invite her?’ I’m so pissed! What a player! No, we have to mess with him!” Chloe fired off a barrage of words. I first let out a sigh of relief, realizing she was just mad at her brother on my behalf. But then, my heart sank again. Pushing down the confusing feelings, I patted her slender hand. “Okay, what’s there to be mad about? I never liked your brother anyway, and I’m not one of the fish on his hook. Didn’t I promise I’d help you ruin things between him and Maya? Plus, your brother kinda mentioned it to me at noon.” He didn’t use his birthday as the reason, though. Maybe he didn’t care if I went or not. Chloe laughed, missing the nuance completely, and kept saying “True, true.” “But tonight I’m taking you shopping. I’m going to buy you a dress and bring you to his party this weekend. You’re going to slay! I want Maya to realize that a plain weed can never compete with a peony!” That night, Chloe and I went to the mall. She picked out a little black dress for me, and I picked up a bottle of cologne as a birthday gift for Carter while we were at it. On the weekend, Chloe actually drove her Ferrari to campus. It was insanely flashy. She called it “A beautiful car for a beautiful girl,” and insisted that from the moment I stepped out of the car at her house, I had to “kill it.” I happily slid into the passenger seat of the Ferrari. It was my first time in a sports car in my life. Aside from being envious, I was just thrilled. The car drove into a famous luxury community in Beverly Hills and parked in the courtyard of a massive two-story mansion. I always knew Chloe’s family had money, but I didn’t realize they had this much money. Her mansion wasn’t just some two or three-thousand-square-foot house. It was a sprawling, modern American estate. The first floor alone must have been eight thousand square feet, all glass. Never mind the landscaping outside—the infinity pool alone was enough to make your heart stop. There were lots of bikini-clad girls and shirtless guys playing in the pool. A crowd of hot girls and guys was gathered around the BBQ grill. Through the glass, I could see the living room couches were also packed with people playing games. It was the epitome of glitz and glamour. When Chloe and I stepped out of her Ferrari, a bunch of guys started whistling, and several girls cheered. Confetti popped in front of us, showering us in ribbons. The oncoming sunlight was warm. As I looked up, I saw Carter walking out of the glass house. The birthday boy was dressed incredibly casually today. He was shirtless. His skin was so pale it almost reflected the light. His seemingly lean frame was actually quite built. He had tight, solid forearms, slight definition in his biceps, and a lean six-pack that was sharp and aesthetically pleasing. The long lines of his waist disappeared into a pair of grey sweatpants. It was a body that made you thirsty just looking at it. I instinctively covered my mouth, terrified I was actually going to drool. Many girls were screaming over the birthday boy’s physique. One bold girl even yelled out, “Hey birthday boy, can I get a feel?” Carter picked up a champagne flute from a nearby table, filled it to the brim, and downed it in one go. The clear liquid slid down his prominent Adam’s apple to his sharp collarbone, and a rogue drop snuck down his abs, disappearing from sight. “Come on then.” Carter set the glass down and smiled. It was impossible to tell if he actually wanted her to or not. He had no shame. I felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of resentment. What am I thinking?! What does he have to do with me?! “Carter! Put some clothes on!” Chloe slammed the car door and screamed at her brother, who was being a total flirt. She marched toward him, furious. The birthday boy, who had been fielding flirty comments from all sides, finally found the time to glance at his sister. And in that single glance, his eyes locked with mine. His expression went completely blank for a moment, his thick eyelashes fluttering. Then he turned and walked away, looking a bit hurried, almost like he was running away. By the time Chloe reached the door, she was pulled away by people offering her drinks, losing her chance to “discipline” her shirtless brother. I didn’t understand why Carter ran away when he saw me, but I knew my mood was decidedly gloomy. I slowly walked over to Chloe, sat down, propped my chin on my hand, and zoned out. While I was zoning out, a lean, muscular waist appeared in my line of sight. Looking up, I saw Carter’s backlit face. “Didn’t you have a group seminar?” Carter handed me a plate of wet strawberries. “Just washed these for you.” I seemed to recall telling him previously that I really liked strawberries. I took the strawberries, slightly dazed, and realized the guy in front of me had changed his outfit. Although it was just a white t-shirt, grey pants, and sneakers—a very simple look—it somehow felt very put-together. Oh, he changed the grey pants. It wasn’t the incredibly draped sweatpants that showed off his “impressive” assets, but a very well-tailored pair of casual pants. His hair wasn’t messy like he just woke up, either. It was clearly styled. The Hayes family was so rich, of course they had maids. Whether he actually went to wash strawberries for me or just went to change his clothes, I didn’t want to call him out. I just knew my mood had suddenly brightened, sunny and cheerful. Carter wasn’t blind. He naturally felt my appraising gaze. He instinctively touched his straight nose, the tips of his ears turning slightly red. “Just woke up earlier. Hadn’t changed yet.” I handed the gift bag to Carter, not planning to give him a hard time anymore. “What did you get me?” Carter naturally began opening the gift box. At the same time, Maya appeared by Carter’s side out of nowhere. “Cologne? I don’t think Carter even wears cologne. Plus, when I was touring his house earlier, I saw all his colognes were custom-made from France. How could he possibly use this?” Maya talked about the hundred-dollar cologne as if it were some cheap knockoff. And she said it so calmly, like she was just discussing the weather, making it hard to get angry at her. Carter stopped what he was doing. He turned his head and shot Maya a look. He didn’t say anything, nor did he throw a fit, but he made the air feel inexplicably cold. He unwrapped the cologne. Using his height advantage, he sprayed it right over my head. I was confused, but then he suddenly bent down and gave me a polite yet ambiguous hug. We were both enveloped in the same scent. “Smells good. I like it.” Carter’s lips were right by my ear. I could feel his hot breath. But he wasn’t whispering. He spoke loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “I thought this scent suited you, so I bought it. Glad you like it.” I responded awkwardly. Carter pulled back and gave me a profoundly ambiguous look. “Really.” Did he have some sort of doubt about that? The guy didn’t say anything else. He straightened up and walked toward the BBQ grill. He nudged aside the guy who was grilling and was immediately surrounded by a flock of “butterflies,” taking over the grilling duties himself. I watched his lean back helplessly, realizing a problem. I was definitely falling for him. When he got close, my uncontrollable heartbeat couldn’t lie to me. Yet, I was also acutely aware that he would always dive headfirst into a crowd like this without a second thought. He could never give me the sense of security I needed. Forget it. My phone pinged with a text. It was actually Carter: “Do you think I’m a player?” What did he mean? I couldn’t figure it out immediately, so I replied with a question mark. “The cologne. It smells like something that attracts bees and butterflies.” “Is the young master misunderstanding himself? Don’t you attract bees and butterflies?” The young master replied with an ellipsis. I couldn’t tell if he was unhappy or not, so I looked up at his back, hoping to read his mood. Who knew this guy would suddenly turn around with a handful of skewers. Seeing me looking at him, he smiled openly, clearly in a great mood. He took a long stride, walked over, and handed me the skewers. “So are you a bee or a butterfly?” I looked down and took a bite of meat. His grilling skills were actually great. “Huh?” Carter suddenly reached out. Startled, I instinctively leaned back. He pinched my cheek and rubbed his thumb lightly against the side of my face. “You got it on your face.” It was enough to make anyone blush. Why was he so flirty? I suppressed the embarrassment of my racing heart, picked up a cup from the table, and took a big gulp. It was sweet, didn’t taste like alcohol, and was really good. “I’m not a bee or a butterfly. Can I be a little calico cat?” I probably choked the young master up with that one. He didn’t say anything. He just stared at my cup. I looked at the color of the bottles on the table, found the delicious drink, poured myself another cup, and was just about to drink it when the young master grabbed my wrist. His voice was actually very clear, but right now, it sounded like it was laced with alcohol—husky and seductive. “That’s mine.” “What do you mean, yours? Don’t be so stingy. It’s just a drink.” I said, taking another gulp. The young master pulled his hand back and laughed. “I’m not stingy. Drink as much as you want. But that’s champagne. It’s a lot stronger than beer. You can’t hold your liquor. Don’t go making a fool of yourself in front of me later.” There were a lot of people here. If I got drunk and acted stupid, it would be really embarrassing to let everyone see. I sluggishly put the cup back. Carter’s smile deepened. He satisfyingly picked up my cup, poured himself a glass, and took a slow sip. Was he crazy? That was the cup I just drank from. You can’t be this flirty, this is too much. “That’s mine.” I pointed at his cup, suppressing an inexplicable tremble. Carter raised an eyebrow and scolded me. “A bandit? I just let you borrow it, forgot? You said I was stingy, so I let you borrow it.” I didn’t need a mirror to know my face was bright red. So the glass originally belonged to him. No wonder he tried to stop me. “You’re blushing.” Carter’s voice was very close to me. I looked up and realized he was bending down looking at me. He pressed the cold wine glass against my cheek to cool it down. The ambiguity fermented like yeast, churning so much that I couldn’t find peace. Even my breathing was erratic.

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The Seventh Year Since I Left the Novel. I had a new love and a brand new life. But right on the eve of my wedding, the System came knocking on my door. “Host, after you left, your target went completely insane. He almost caused the pocket universe to collapse. “In order to maintain the stability of the novel’s world, I brought your target and your child over to you.” 1 I froze in place. It felt like a bomb had gone off in my head. “What do you mean you brought them over?!” The System hemmed and hawed for a long time before finally gritting its teeth. “I had no choice! If I didn’t take action, Dominic would have torn the entire world of the novel apart. “For the sake of our past partnership, just coax him and your daughter a little. I’ll give you extra rewards, and we’ll call it even, okay?” Okay? Hell no! But no matter how I screamed for the System in my mind, it played dead and didn’t say another word. “Willow, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” A voice, as warm and gentle as a spring breeze, pulled me back to reality. My mind reeled as I looked at my gentle, handsome fiancé, Ethan. Uncontrollably, my thoughts drifted back to the years I spent trying to win Dominic’s heart. 2 I used to have congenital heart disease. Doctors said I wouldn’t live past twenty. And they were right. By the time I was nineteen, I was already experiencing severe heart failure. Right before the grim reaper’s scythe fell, the System found me. It tasked me with winning over the novel’s obsessive, second male lead—Dominic Vance—who was hopelessly in love with the female lead. As long as Dominic gave up on the female lead and married me, the mission would be a success. In return, I would get a perfectly healthy body. I was lucky. I arrived right when the female lead threw herself into the main hero’s arms. Dominic was heartbroken and devastated. During that time, I gave him all the patience and tenderness I could muster in my life. Slowly, I melted his icy exterior. The System used to whisper excitedly in my ear, “Host, Dominic’s affection for you has far surpassed his feelings for the female lead!” And in the second year of his skyrocketing affection, Dominic proposed. I completed the mission! I could have returned to my real world with a brand new, healthy body. But shortly after we got married, I found out I was pregnant. I had been an orphan in the real world. Feeling that tiny life growing inside me, I experienced the desire for a real family for the very first time. Besides, Dominic was truly wonderful to me back then. When he found out I was pregnant, he was so thrilled he didn’t sleep all night. He pressed his ear to my belly and mumbled to our unborn baby until dawn. I couldn’t bear to leave the happiness that was right in front of me. So, I stayed. I gave birth to our daughter, Chloe. Dominic’s parents had desperately wanted a grandson. Because of that, they never really cared for Chloe, and by extension, they didn’t care much for me. I didn’t mind. I thought as long as the three of us were together, everything would be fine. Chloe, on the other hand, loved going to her grandparents’ estate. She always said their house was big and beautiful, with so many maids to serve her and play with her. There, she could eat whatever junk food she wanted. She could play as late as she wanted, and no one ever disciplined her. “Plus, Grandma has so much beautiful jewelry. Not like you, Mom. You always wear the exact same necklace. It’s so embarrassing for Dad.” That was the first time I heard the word “embarrassing” come out of my daughter’s mouth. 3 The second time was when Chloe was five. News broke that the female lead, Lily Brooks, was getting a divorce. From that day on, Dominic started leaving early and coming home in the middle of the night. The third time I asked him where he was going so late, he shoved me away with a look of pure impatience. “Willow, are you ever going to stop? We’re married, what more do you want from me?” He didn’t control his strength, and I crashed hard into the corner of a cabinet. Dominic’s eyes flickered for a split second, but then his face went blank, and he walked out the door. He didn’t come back that night. At four in the morning, I received a photo from Lily. It was a picture of Dominic, sleeping soundly beside her. After that, the names Dominic and Lily began appearing together constantly. To help Lily secure her divorce smoothly, Dominic got into a physical fight with her husband. He pulled every string he had to hire a million-dollar celebrity divorce attorney. To cheer Lily up from her post-divorce depression, Dominic rented out a hilltop and set off fireworks with her all night. When Lily wanted to start a business, Dominic provided the funding, the manpower, and even hired top-tier designers from Europe to draft her company’s logo. My heart grew completely numb. I thought about leaving countless times. But I could never let go of Chloe. Until one night, she ate too much ice cream at her grandparents’ house and spiked a high fever. I rushed her to the emergency room. I called Dominic eight times. He hung up on me eight times. On the ninth ring, he finally answered. His voice was dripping with suppressed rage. “Willow, can you grow up? Can you stop acting like one of those clueless, desperate housewives whose only goal in life is to keep tabs on her husband the second he leaves the house?!” He hung up before I could say a word. The sentence, “Your daughter is running a 102-degree fever, please come to the hospital,” died in my throat. I looked at Chloe, sleeping fitfully in my arms. I lied to myself. I told myself he must just be really busy. Until a few minutes later. Around the corner of the hallway, a tall man walked into view, carrying a little boy slightly older than Chloe. Clinging tightly to his side was a petite woman with a flawless, bright face. It was Lily. She looked up at Dominic coquettishly. “I told you, Charlie just has a little tummy ache. It’s nothing serious. You’re being too overprotective.” Dominic looked down, his eyes brimming with absolute tenderness. “You can never be too careful when it comes to kids.” It was a complete 180 from the man screaming at me on the phone moments ago. The little boy in his arms, who looked so much like Lily, wrapped his arms around Dominic’s neck. “You’re the best, Daddy Dominic.” From a distance, they looked like the picture-perfect family. They never noticed me huddled in the corner with my sick child, looking like an absolute clown. 4 That night, Chloe cried until the early hours of the morning because she felt so awful. To make her comfortable, I patted her back and coaxed her, not sleeping a wink. The next morning, I went to grab her some breakfast. When I returned, I saw two familiar silhouettes standing by her hospital bed. Chloe was buried in Lily’s arms. “Aunt Lily, you smell so good and you’re so pretty! Not like my mom. She doesn’t brush her hair or change her clothes. “When I opened my eyes this morning, I thought I saw a ghost. It’s so embarrassing for me and Dad. “Aunt Lily, I love you so much. My dad loves you too. Why don’t you come live with us and be my mom?” Lily blushed and shot Dominic a shy glance. Dominic’s eyes never left Lily. They were filled with faint, doting affection. The fortress I had built entirely out of self-deception finally crumbled into dust. I turned around in silence. I tossed the packed breakfast into the nearest trash can. For the first time in six years, I contacted the System. “Send me back to my original world.” It was only then that I realized what a brilliant decision I had made when the System had asked if I wanted to trade my return ticket for endless wealth and power, and I chose to keep the ticket. 5 The System worked fast. It prepared the extraction protocol almost instantly. Right before pulling me out of the novel’s world, it asked me one last time. “Host, are you absolutely sure? Once you leave, you can never come back. Can you really bear to leave…” I knew exactly what it was hesitating to say. Never mind Dominic. I carried Chloe for ten agonizing months and almost died giving birth to her. The System knew perfectly well how much I had sacrificed for her over the years. But this was my own flesh and blood, the child I loved down to my marrow. And she viewed me as a stain. An embarrassment. The idea that children automatically love their parents was just my own wishful thinking. I didn’t belong here. This was Lily’s world. My lover and my child were just things that could belong to her the second she batted an eyelash. My supposed happiness was nothing but a fleeting illusion. Now, it was time to wake up. I told the System, “I’m sure. Pull me out.” 6 After returning to the real world, my body was perfectly healthy. I spent four years finishing my college degree, using the time to heal from the trauma of the novel. I spent another three years building a fairly successful career. And I met Ethan—a man whose eyes held nothing but me. I was happy and fulfilled. Only occasionally, in the dead of night, would I think of Dominic and Chloe. But now, the System was suddenly telling me it had dragged them into my world. I dug my nails into my palms to stop myself from screaming curses at the void. Ethan noticed something was wrong and gently pulled me into his arms. I prepared for the worst. I knew I couldn’t keep this from him. I had told Ethan all about my experience being trapped in a book before we even started dating. So when I told him that my ‘target’ from the novel was here, he didn’t look completely shocked. He even tried to joke about it. “Willow, do you think our world is a book too? Otherwise, how can fictional characters just cross over whenever they want?” I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t cooperate. Even though he was trying his hardest to hide it, the arms wrapped around me tightened involuntarily. After a long time, Ethan rested his chin on the top of my head. He asked softly, “Willow, you aren’t going to choose him, are you?” He sounded like a stray puppy left out in the rain. My heart melted completely, and I hugged him back tightly. “Of course not. I would never choose him over you. “Besides, the System said once this mess is sorted out, it will send them right back.” Ethan let out a quiet “Mhm.” On the walk home, he held my hand much tighter than usual. As if he was terrified I might slip through his fingers. I squeezed his hand back just as hard. But the moment we reached my front door, a chubby little figure in pigtails suddenly lunged forward and locked her arms around my waist in a death grip. “Mommy! You’re finally back! I missed you so much!” Behind her, a man stepped slowly out of the shadows. His bloodshot eyes were filled with aggression and overwhelming dominance. “Willow. Long time no see.” 7 Long time no see. I instinctively took half a step back. In doing so, I shoved the unfamiliar little girl away. That single motion seemed to enrage Dominic beyond belief. A flash of hostility crossed his eyes, and he reached out to grab me. “What are you hiding from?” Before he could touch me, another hand blocked him. It was Ethan. He stepped squarely between Dominic and me. The two men locked eyes. The tension in the air was explosive. “Willow, who the hell is this man?” “You must be Dominic. Nice to meet you.” They spoke at the exact same time. Ethan still had a polite, faint smile on his face. But Dominic’s eyes had narrowed to dangerous slits. It was a sign that he was about to lose his mind. Dominic was a lunatic. Before he could explode, I stepped sideways, placing myself between them. I gave Ethan’s fingertips a reassuring squeeze. Then, I looked at Dominic—and the girl who felt like a total stranger. It had been a few years. Dominic hadn’t changed much, though the obsession in his eyes was darker. But Chloe… she had aged two or three years. Time clearly flowed differently between the novel and reality. What shocked me was her appearance. She had gained a massive amount of weight. Her previously delicate, doll-like features were practically stretched out of shape by the fat. She wore a pair of thick, heavy prescription glasses over her nose. Pushed away by me, she stared in helpless confusion, biting her lip and crying silently. She was never like this before. Before, if she felt the slightest bit wronged, she would scream and throw a massive tantrum until I practically begged her to calm down. When did she ever learn to cry so quietly? My heart twisted inexplicably. But I simply lowered my eyes and broke eye contact. I kept my voice light. “Let me introduce you. Dominic, this is my fiancé. “Ethan, this is Dominic. “As you can see, Dominic, I am getting married. The Willow from your world is dead. Take Chloe and go back.” Dominic stared at me, unblinking. “I. Will. Not. Accept. This.” I wanted to tell him it didn’t matter if he accepted it; it was a finalized reality. But Chloe beat me to it, bursting into loud, wailing sobs. “Mommy, are you really throwing me away? The kids at school call me a bastard without a mother! Are you really going to make me a bastard?!” 8 She cried until her voice went hoarse, her chubby face covered in tears. Every single drop felt like boiling water splashing against my chest. It burned so much it hurt. I opened my mouth. “Please don’t leave me, Mommy! I’ll be good, I’ll be the best daughter for you and Dad! “I’ll never make you mad again! I’ll never get sick again! I ate so much so I could get super strong! Please don’t leave me, Mommy, please?!” My nose stung. She was, after all, a piece of my own flesh. Interrupted by her pleading, the cold words I was about to say were forced back down my throat. In the end, it was Ethan who opened the front door and said gently, “Let’s go inside to talk. It’s not good to make a scene out here for the neighbors to see.” I looked at him gratefully, met only with his soft, supportive profile. It was getting very late. I coaxed a endlessly sobbing Chloe until she finally cried herself to sleep, then quietly slipped out of the guest room. In the living room, the tension between the two men was thick enough to cut with a knife. Dominic had an unconcealed smirk of disdain on his face as he surveyed my apartment. “Willow, is this your house? It’s not even as big as our old bathroom. Are you sure this is the life you want?” I dropped the gentle mother persona I’d worn for Chloe. Seeing Ethan’s slightly shifting expression, I smiled at him. “Ethan, could you go wait in our room for a bit?” After a moment’s hesitation, Ethan nodded. He gently patted the top of my head. “Call me if you need me.” He was always like this. No matter what happened, he stood by me with unwavering gentleness, reminding me he had my back. Once Ethan was gone, Dominic let out another scoff. “Did you know I was coming? Is that why you hired some actor to put on a show for me? Do you really think I’d care about a loser like that?” I looked at the familiar arrogance and delusion in his eyes and gave a tired smile. “Dominic, you aren’t worth that kind of effort anymore.”

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I had a secret, messy romance with my stepmother’s son. The breakup was a disaster. Later, he got drunk, cornered me in the bathroom, and growled: “I guess I’m just a masochist. I want us to torture each other until we’re both old and gray. What are you going to do about it?” 1 As Christmas approached, I delayed as long as I could. Finally, under my father’s threats and bribes, I bought a plane ticket home. When I landed, Caleb was there to pick me up. This was our first time seeing each other since the breakup. In six months, he had changed. The boy who used to only wear light hoodies now wore a sharp, tailored black suit. Lean waist, long legs, a chiseled jawline, and a vacant expression. He looked cold, elite, and completely untouchable. “Hey, big brother…” I called out, my voice tight. He gave me a frigid glance. “Call me by my name. I don’t want to be your brother.” We broke up, so we can’t even be family anymore? I didn’t say a word, following him silently to the car. Sitting at the dinner table later, waiting for the food to be served, Caleb suddenly reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. He looked at the row of sparkling studs in my ear and let out a soft, dry laugh. “Seven piercings. You really aren’t afraid of pain, are you?” I bit my lip, my eyes stinging. To hide my face, I took a frantic gulp of my soda, only to choke on it. I ended up coughing until tears ran down my face. Karma is a bitch. Caleb watched me the whole time, his eyes as deep and dark as a well. He let my embarrassment hang in the air, exposed. Maybe I was being too sensitive, but I thought I saw a flash of contempt in his eyes. That holiday dinner felt like sitting on a bed of nails. I felt like a fish bone was stuck in my throat. Something was wrong. It wasn’t until that night, when Caleb knocked on my bedroom door with his dark mood on full display, that I realized what the problem was—Caleb hated me. He was radiating pure, unadulterated aggression. “Maya Miller, your life is a mess, isn’t it?” he said. “You’re imagining things. I’m incredibly happy. My boyfriend treats me like a queen,” I shot back. “Another boyfriend?” Caleb’s eyes darkened. He paused. “Who is he? Bring him around so I can check him out. Your taste in men has always been garbage. You can’t tell the difference between a good guy and a used car salesman.” “Bringing him home counts as ‘meeting the parents.’ Are you that eager to see me get married and move out of this house?” I countered. Our gazes locked in a silent war for a long time. Finally, Caleb took a step back. “Then we’ll meet in public. When are you setting it up?” “He’s very busy. I’ll talk to him and let you know.” My tone was arrogant. In front of Caleb, I was used to playing the role of the spoiled, fearless brat. But Caleb wasn’t going to coddle me anymore. He let out a cold snort and whispered, “Fine. Let’s see how much better this guy is than your ex.” 2 When I was very young, I accepted a hard truth. If a child loses her mother, she essentially loses her home. So, when I was twelve and Caleb and his mother moved in, I wasn’t repulsed. I was actually relieved. The day I dreaded had finally come, and I didn’t have to live in fear of the “unknown” anymore. If it wasn’t them, it would have been someone else. My father was always going to become someone else’s husband and someone else’s father. I didn’t know if understanding this so early made me mature or just cynical. I just knew it. I also knew that Caleb was gorgeous. Getting on his good side meant I had a handsome “brother” to show off, making all my boy-crazy friends follow me like loyal subjects. Caleb was three years older than me—quiet, introverted, and a man of few words. After becoming my brother, he didn’t have a single day of peace. During my teenage years, my rebellion hit like a hurricane. I was constantly looking for trouble. One day I was “defending” a friend from a rival; the next, I was playing backup for a fight. Caleb was terrified I’d get hurt, so he followed me everywhere. If I couldn’t win a fight, he’d jump in. If I was winning, he’d sit on the sidelines, doing his honors-level homework and reviewing his SATs. Once, after a particularly nasty brawl, we both came home bruised and battered. My dad, half-drunk and seeing me looking like a mess, immediately assumed Caleb had hit me. He didn’t see that Caleb was also covered in bruises, mostly on his torso. That day, my dad hit Caleb hard. “Protecting” me. Caleb wasn’t even angry. He actually comforted me afterward: “Your dad is still your dad. You’ll always be his favorite.” The truth was, when my dad misunderstood, I had intentionally stayed silent. I didn’t explain. I wanted to test my father to see what he would do. I didn’t expect Caleb to see right through my petty, mean-spirited plan. I was shocked and ashamed. I rolled my eyes at him and hissed, “Your dad is dead, so you came here to steal mine. Now you know you lost, right? In this house, you’ll always be an outsider.” Caleb turned around and didn’t say another word. It took a while for it to sink in just how toxic I was being. From that day on, my feelings for Caleb shifted into something subtle and strange. In the past, no matter how nice he was to me, I was indifferent. Because my dad was so good to his mother, I felt his kindness was just a way of paying a debt. It didn’t deserve my gratitude. But I had forgotten—if my dad was so good to his mother, it meant I was the one being pushed out of their perfect family unit. When I was twenty, in college, I had a brief, impulsive relationship. Within ten days, the guy cheated on me three times. Truly impressive. In the middle of the night, I called Caleb in a fit of rage and grief. I ended up falling asleep while cursing the guy out. When I woke up, my roommate told me my brother was waiting downstairs. I ran out of the dorm and saw that lean, tall silhouette standing in the blinding morning sun. I went to grab his arm, but he used his height advantage to press his palm against my forehead, keeping me at a distance. Caleb: “Who gave you permission to date?” Me: “Everyone in my dorm is dating. I wanted to try it too.” He took a deep, heavy breath. “If you wanted to try it, you could have told me.” Told you? For what? Before the words could leave my mouth, he pulled me into a crushing embrace. It was like the clouds suddenly parted. I could hear my own heartbeat racing out of rhythm, my face burning. Back then, I was too slow to realize Caleb loved me. I only realized that I was harborous “traitorous” thoughts about him. It was just one hug, but in my head, I had already rehearsed our entire wedding and a lifetime together. Young, hormonal girls can’t control their “evil” impulses. That’s how I justified it to myself later. It took three months of “Good morning,” “Good luck with your exam,” and “Goodnight” texts before he finally broke the tension and made it official. “We can’t let the family know,” I told him solemnly that day. “But every single one of your colleagues and friends needs to know I’m your girlfriend.” During the two years we were together, he was perfect. He listened to me, gave me everything I wanted. The grand gestures, the constant sharing, the attention to every little detail—he checked every box. But I was terrified. I felt like a disaster was coming, that this couldn’t last. Until the day I saw a beautiful, wealthy colleague of his confess her love to him. That was when I surrendered. That evening, I walked barefoot along the riverbank and made a decision: Forget it, Maya. Don’t ruin his chance at a normal life. You’re petty, you’re not that pretty, and you have a temper. You’re not good for him. Plus, you’re technically his sister. This path only gets harder. I don’t even understand my own psychology. Instead of a mature breakup, I decided to destroy everything. I said the most vicious, disgusting things I could think of to hurt him. “Maya, please don’t do this. I’ll quit. I’ll find a new job. I won’t ever have to see her again.” Caleb’s submissive, broken tone made me feel so ashamed I couldn’t breathe. I was a horrible person. I knew it, but my face remained a mask of cold indifference. After the breakup, I got a row of ear piercings. It hurt. They got infected. It hurt more. But I felt a sick sense of relief. Pain was a way to heal. Sometimes, I would intentionally seek out physical pain just so I wouldn’t feel so alone, so my longing wouldn’t swallow me whole. Caleb would never know that. “Seven piercings. You really aren’t afraid of pain, are you?” Caleb… do you really think I’m not afraid? 3 My first night back was a nightmare. I dreamt of chaotic, painful fragments. I felt like my mind was wide awake, but my body was paralyzed, unable to wake up. I slept for over ten hours, yet I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. My stepmother, Elena, asked if I was feeling sick. I nodded. “I feel a bit nauseous.” The second the words left my mouth, Caleb shot me a lethal glare from across the room. “Nauseous?” he repeated, his voice dangerously low. He marched over to me, looking like he wanted to skin me alive. “What other symptoms?” My stomach did a somersault. I couldn’t answer; I just dashed for the bathroom. When I came out, Caleb was gone. Elena handed me a glass of warm water, her eyes searching mine. “Maya… did you and Caleb have a falling out?” “Maybe… I don’t know,” I replied. Fifteen minutes later, Caleb came bursting through the front door, breathless. Ignoring his mother, he grabbed my arm, dragged me into his room, and slammed the door. My heart was hammering against my ribs. “Are you crazy?!” I hissed. Caleb shoved something into my hands. “Go. Now.” I looked down. It was a pregnancy test. I didn’t know whether to be angry or laugh. He thought I was pregnant? Did he even care if I was? Prompted by a sliver of hope, I decided to test him. “There’s nothing to check. If I’m pregnant, I’ll just keep it.” “Maya Miller, when did you become such a disaster?” Caleb stared at me, his eyes overflowing with disappointment. I’ve known him for years. I’ve seen him in every mood. But I had never seen him look so helpless, so utterly defeated. That “exclusivity” gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction, even as it made me feel small. The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed from the hallway. A second later, the door flew open. “You’re pregnant?!” My dad, his face bright red, charged into the room. Elena was right behind him, looking terrified. I instinctively tried to hide the pregnancy test, but to my dad, it looked like a confession of guilt. He roared, his hand flying up to slap me. But before it could land, Caleb caught his wrist. “You are not allowed to touch her.” The words “not allowed” made both my father and Elena gasp. “Caleb! How can you talk to your father like that?” Elena looked at her son in shock. Caleb let go of my dad’s hand. He stood in front of me, a silent, immovable shield. Elena tried to play the peacemaker. “Let’s all calm down. We’re a family; we can talk this out. Robert, Maya, you two need a proper heart-to-heart.” A family? Looking at them, they looked like a perfect family of three. I was just the intruder, the one who ruined their harmony. “I wish Maya was even half as sensible as Caleb,” my dad’s voice from a conversation I overheard last night echoed in my head. “I’ve spent my life serving her mother, and now I’m stuck serving her. It’s a curse.” I smiled, dropped the pregnancy test on the floor, and stepped out from behind Caleb. “I’m not pregnant. I won’t embarrass you. Believe whatever you want.” I walked out without looking back, done with their judgment. “Maya! What kind of attitude is that?” my dad screamed after me. “If you ever do get pregnant out of wedlock, don’t you dare come back to this house!” It seemed that in front of his new wife, my dad was extra focused on his “manhood,” refusing to let his authority be questioned. When I was little, I didn’t understand that. I took a lot of hits for it. But now, I didn’t care. When you realize someone isn’t worth your heart, everything they do becomes white noise. 4 The second I stepped outside, the bone-chilling wind hit me from all directions. I stood in the snow, still shaking from the humiliation, when I saw Caleb chasing after me. He was wearing a black parka, the bottom half of his face buried in a thick fur collar, leaving only his cold, sharp eyes visible. In his arms, he held a plush “Patrick Star” hand warmer—something that completely clashed with his vibe. He walked up and shoved the hand warmer into my arms. “Go home. It’s cold.” I shook my head. “Caleb… take me somewhere. I don’t want to be alone.” We drove for hours until we reached a quiet cemetery. The sun was setting, the sky a heavy gray. Caleb and I sat in front of a headstone. It was peaceful here. Just rows and rows of silent stone. “I told your mom everything,” I said, a faint smile on my lips. “Including us.” Caleb’s nose was red from the cold, making him look unusually vulnerable. He turned to me, his lashes fluttering. “So… why did you really break up with me?” Why? Pride and love were a toxic mix. Reality and dreams were pulling in opposite directions. I was trapped in the middle, and I eventually just broke. But I couldn’t tell him the truth—I love you, but I’m terrified of hurting you. I love you, and that makes me dangerous. “I couldn’t see a future for us. I didn’t want to waste any more time. I wanted an easy life,” I said flatly. He didn’t reply. He just stared at my mother’s headstone. “Did you know? My mom cut off her entire family to marry my dad. Her ‘epic’ love story lasted less than three years before it turned into mutual loathing. And then, your mom came along and effortlessly got all the tenderness my mom spent her life begging for.” I looked into the distance and sighed. I had never told anyone that. When I was a kid, I hated my mom for being selfish, for leaving me alone and choosing death. But as I grew up and saw the world for what it was, I started to understand her pain. Just a little bit. On the drive back, I rested my head against the window, watching the world blur by. At a red light, a hand suddenly gripped mine. “Let’s get married.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. It felt like a needle had pierced my heart. I yanked my hand away, shrinking into the passenger seat, my body tense. “Are you insane?” Then, a thought struck me. I added, “I have a boyfriend.” Caleb pulled his hand back, his expression turning to stone as he stared at the road ahead. The car was silent. I looked away from him, my heart racing. If someone chose me with such reckless, unwavering conviction, I think I would crumble. But that kind of luck doesn’t happen to girls like me. Or maybe, I just didn’t believe I was a stable enough person to handle it. I knew I wasn’t. That night, I was on the balcony smoking. The city lights were a blur. Through the glass, I could see them inside, a “happy family” chatting. Elena walked onto the balcony. Her usual gentle expression was replaced by something heavy. “Maya, can we talk?” I felt a cold pit in my stomach. She knew. 5 “I’ve arranged a date for Caleb. She’s a PhD student who just got back from Europe. Like Caleb, she’s been a high-achiever since she was a kid. She’s poised, well-bred… and most importantly, she comes from a very stable, happy family. She’s a very healthy, whole person.” She was a brilliant woman. With just a few words, she had effectively shredded my soul. I struggled in school. I wasn’t particularly pretty. I wasn’t poised or well-bred. And “a healthy, whole person”? That hit like a freight train. I stood in the shadows, hoping she couldn’t see the shame and devastation on my face. Elena continued, “Caleb refuses to see her. Maya, can you help me think of something?” “What do you want me to do?” I asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Just talk to him. Tell him a girl like that is a rare find. It would be a shame to miss out.” She patted my hand affectionately. A rare find… I repeated her words in my head and almost laughed. “I have a girlfriend.” Caleb’s voice cut through the air. I turned and saw him standing there, his eyes like ice. He walked over, tossed the Patrick Star hand warmer into my lap, and stared at his mother. “Once I’ve convinced her to stay, I’m going to marry her.” The air felt like it was freezing. After a long pause, Elena looked at me with a forced smile. “Maya, do you know who his girlfriend is?” “No idea.” I made the choice without a second’s hesitation. Elena let out a long sigh of relief, her first genuine smile of the night appearing. “I’ll go cut some fruit. You two chat.” When we were alone, neither of us spoke. We just stared into the dark. Then, my phone rang. “Maya, babe, did you miss me?” The night was so quiet that Caleb heard every word. I saw his shoulders go rigid. “Yeah,” I replied. Caleb turned and walked away instantly, like something was chasing him. Watching his back, the tears I’d been holding back all night finally fell. If he had turned around, he would have seen my pathetic lie—that I was falling apart, and I was only using this “boyfriend” as a shield for my pride. I’m usually not that patient, but tonight I stayed on the phone with the caller for a long time. I needed a distraction. Any distraction. “Maya, I hate the holidays,” the person on the other end said. “Funny,” I replied. “Me too.” After I went back inside, Elena cornered me with a plate of fruit. “So Maya, when do we get to meet your boyfriend?” “In no rush,” I mumbled. I made an excuse and left the house, heading to a local dive bar. Surrounded by smoke and noise, I drank and ate, trying to fill the hole in my chest. It didn’t work. On my way to the restroom, I tripped. Just as my face was about to meet the floor, a hand caught me and pulled me into a chest that smelled like fresh rain. In the dim light, I saw Caleb’s worried face. I broke. The alcohol let the dam burst, and I sobbed. I was a giant balloon that had finally popped. He held me tight, letting me vent everything. Afterward, I splashed cold water on my face at the sink. I looked in the mirror and saw a numb, hollow face. How did I end up like this? a voice in my head asked. “Let’s go home,” Caleb whispered beside me. I ignored him, still staring at the mirror. “Let’s go to our home,” he said firmly. That night, maybe because of the alcohol, I slept like a baby. In my dream, I was SpongeBob. I asked, “Patrick, why are you named Patrick?” And Patrick looked at me and said, “Because I was sent by God to be the star that protects you.” It was a childish dream, but it was a real memory from my childhood. I woke up the next morning at 10 AM. I rubbed my pounding head and looked around at the unfamiliar room. Where was I? Did Caleb sell me? 6 In the open-concept kitchen, Caleb was focused on cooking. The morning sun hit his profile perfectly. Everything looked like a movie scene. I didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly. After a while, Caleb turned around. He looked at me and said seriously, “You have sleep in your eye.” And just like that, the magic was gone. I glared at him. “Stay out of my business.” Caleb nodded solemnly and went back to the stove. “Whatever. I love you no matter how you look.” Wait… Was he flirting? During our two years together, he was a man of action, rarely using “magic attacks” like this. Back then, if I tried to act cute, he’d push me away and tell me to speak normally. I sat at the table waiting for food. Caleb set a bowl down and said casually, “You slept in my arms last night. If your boyfriend finds out, he won’t be mad, will he?” I froze. In his arms? “What did you do to me?” Caleb stopped and looked at me with a look of pure, unblemished hurt, accusing me of being heartless. I swallowed hard. “Did I… do something to you?” He suddenly reached out and gently ruffled my hair. For a second, I felt like we were back in our relationship. “Caleb, where are we?” I asked, trying to break the spell. He spooned some porridge for me. “Our future home.” What? His pupils contracted slightly. “I started planning this before you even brought up the breakup.” I couldn’t look at him. I just focused on the porridge. It was hot. It burned my throat. It felt like it was burning my whole soul. “Maya,” he said, crouching down to be eye-level with me. “Do you even love me?” His voice sounded like it was on the verge of cracking. I tried to stand up and run, but he caught me. “You’re just fighting with yourself. I’ll make it okay. You can come back.” “Caleb, don’t do this to yourself,” I rasped. If he hated me, I could handle it. But I couldn’t handle this—him being heartbroken and still trying to wipe my tears. “Love is just getting trapped over and over,” Caleb said. “Don’t give up on me.” “Caleb, I didn’t give up on you. I gave up on myself.” I didn’t think I deserved beautiful things. My whole life was a series of losses. Losing my mom, losing my dad, losing my dignity, losing my trust… I had even lost myself. “Then I’ll be the person who never gives up on you.” For a long time, my brain went white. My body was shaking. By the time I found my voice, he was already kissing me. It was aggressive. Fierce. A kiss that felt like it would never end. Before my brain could catch up, my body had already given him the answer.

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My best friend’s brother is such an arrogant jerk. The first time we met, I bumped into him fresh out of the shower. He literally threw a shirt over my head. My best friend tried to smooth things over: “This is my gorgeous older friend, pretty, right?” He glared at me coldly, his tone dripping with sarcasm: “Ugly.” Oh, so he’s an arrogant little brat? I thought. Watch me put him in his place. After a period of me showering him with attention, taking care of him, being overwhelmingly sweet, and treating him like an absolute king… I gave up. He was still just as arrogant, and he absolutely refused to call me “Miss Cece” with even a shred of respect. But exactly two days after I threw in the towel, he messaged me first for the very first time. Mr. Arrogant: Playing hard to get? Mr. Arrogant: Cece. 1 I went over to my best friend’s house to drop off some stuff and ran headfirst into a gorgeous guy fresh out of the shower. He was tall, with long legs, chiseled abs, and a pitifully small towel covering his crucial bits. Before I could even get a good look, a t-shirt was tossed directly over my head. My vision went dark, and I let out a delayed, startled shriek. My best friend, Chloe, ran out at the sound. I pointed at the guy who was now tightening his towel. “Who is this?!” Chloe blinked. “My brother.” Me: ??? Wait a second, wasn’t her brother a scrawny, awkward little kid? Chloe turned to the hot guy, trying to defuse the awkwardness. “This is my gorgeous older friend, pretty, right?” He glared at me coldly. “Ugly.” Then he turned around and walked into his room. Me: … Damn. He’s one of those cocky, arrogant guys. “How old is he again?” I asked. Chloe looked apologetic. “My brother… he’s twenty. His rebellious phase came a bit late.” I stared at Chloe, narrowing my eyes. “He’s a grown adult. Someone needs to teach him some manners.” Chloe flashed a knowing, wicked smile. She instantly air-dropped me his contact card. “Please. Fix him for me.” 2 His name was Holden Brooks. He was a junior at UCLA, and supposedly, a pretty popular guy on campus. That just made him more fun to mess with. I added his number and sent my first “friendly” text. Me: Hey little bro, got time to grab dinner? Holden: Who is this? Me: Your sister’s friend. The hot older woman who saw you fresh out of the shower the other day. He didn’t reply for twenty minutes. Me: ? [Message Not Delivered] Wait… did this little brat just block me?! I immediately texted Chloe: Your brother blocked me! Make him unblock me right now! Chloe: He doesn’t listen to me. You have to tell him yourself. Me: How am I supposed to tell him if I’m blocked? Chloe: You play League of Legends, right? He’s boosting a classmate in ranked tonight. I’ll give you my account login. God, I love my best friend. That night, I joined their lobby and turned on my mic. When a voice that clearly wasn’t Chloe’s came through, Holden’s classmate was stunned. “You aren’t Holden’s sister,” a soft-spoken college boy said. “Who are you?” I made my voice sugar-sweet. “I’m a good friend of Holden’s older sister…” “Oh, cool! Can you play Support, Miss?” “Of course.” “Just sit back then, we’ll carry you.” I almost cried. What an absolute angel of a boy. Holden was a menace in comparison. I decided to actively shift my attention to the nice kid. But then Holden locked in the ADC role. As the Support, I was forced to follow him around the map. Holden: “Support, go check that brush for enemies.” I happily trotted over. And immediately got jumped by three enemies hiding in the grass and died instantly. Holden: “Support, stop feeding them.” Me: ? Didn’t you literally just tell me to go in there?! Similar things happened multiple times. I strongly suspected Holden was doing it on purpose. By the end of the match, I essentially had zero impact. Even though we won, I was furious. Oh, so you want to play the carry? I thought. Fine. I’ll play a parasite. Game two, I instantly locked in Yuumi—a cat champion that literally attaches to another player and can’t be targeted. Holden immediately locked in Yasuo. Me: … For the entire game, the second I attached to Holden, he would use his dash abilities to sprint headfirst into the entire enemy team, drop me off in the middle of the crossfire to die, and stylishly dash away. I even heard a faint, suppressed laugh over his mic. I was fuming! Before long, we were losing badly. All our base turrets were gone. The soft-spoken boy was totally confused. “Holden, you’re a Challenger-tier Yasuo on your main account. How are we losing this badly on your smurf?” I scoffed into the mic. “Even Challenger players choke sometimes.” Suddenly, Holden’s character stopped right next to mine. “Get on.” “Why?” I snapped. “I’ll carry you.” Yeah right, I thought. He’s definitely just trying to drag me into the enemy fountain to die again. But I attached to his character anyway. Mostly because he still hadn’t unblocked my number. To my surprise, he actually started trying. He racked up double kills and triple kills, completely turning the game around and pushing into the enemy base. Of course, I still died a few times in the crossfire. The second the enemy team was wiped out and we were destroying their nexus, he walked his character directly into their laser turret, intentionally dying right beside my respawning body. “What are you doing?” I asked, confused. Holden didn’t answer, but the other guys in the lobby started laughing and teasing him. “Aww, dying together like a married couple.” My face flushed hot. Shut up, you brats. Know your place. 3 After the gaming session, I realized I completely forgot to ask Holden to unblock me. Knowing it probably wouldn’t go through, I grumpily typed out an iMessage: You’re such an annoying brat, all you do is bully me. Delivered. I froze for two seconds. Just as I was about to unsend it, Holden replied: Oh. Me: … Me: But I have to admit, you carrying us for that comeback at the end was pretty hot. Holden: Oh. What was with the boring reactions? Me: Call me Miss Cece and let’s hear how it sounds. Holden didn’t reply for five minutes. My heart sank. Was he going to block me again? Me: Just kidding! If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Just don’t block me! Two minutes later. Holden: Going to sleep. I stared at my phone and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Listen here, little boy. Playing hard to get with me comes with a price. 4 For the next little while, I made it my mission to “harass” Holden over text whenever I was bored. It was mostly trivial stuff. Did you eat? Are you asleep? Do you miss me? He ignored the first two types of questions entirely, but he always replied to the last one instantly: No. Impossible. Keep dreaming. I couldn’t believe my first time genuinely pursuing a guy was hitting a brick wall built by a college kid. Frustrated, I went to Chloe for advice. She dragged me to a bar, complaining over her cocktails. “I don’t know what happened to him. Ever since his grades shot up and he got into UCLA, he’s been acting so weird and distant…” I listened patiently until I was decently buzzed. Chloe patted my shoulder. “I just texted Holden to come pick us up. I’m gonna head out early so you two can have some alone time. Don’t waste the opportunity!” Before I could even protest, she was gone. I was sitting there, bored out of my mind, when a guy approached me. “Let me get your number, gorgeous.” Not wanting to cause a scene, I gave him my Instagram. I could always block him later. But the guy was persistent. “Are you here alone? Wanna get out of here together?” I rubbed my temples in annoyance. When I looked up, I saw Holden walking in. “No thanks, my boyfriend is here to pick me up.” I smirked, pointing across the room. “That’s him.” The guy took the hint and scurried off. Holden walked up, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. In the dim lighting of the club, I couldn’t clearly see his eyes, but I could sense he was radiating anger. Was he mad that Chloe forced him to come? I muttered softly, “You really didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to…” Holden cut me off. “And then what? You’d just leave with some random guy?” Me: ? “No…” I was feeling lightheaded from the alcohol, so I stood up somewhat clumsily, intentionally swaying so I could lean against him. He suddenly grabbed my arm, practically marching me out of the bar. He opened the passenger door of his car and tossed me inside. Then he leaned in, his arms bracing on either side of me. His face was inches from mine. I could see the slight tremble of his eyelashes. My stupid heart started hammering against my ribs. In the heated, alcohol-scented tension, Holden’s words were ice-cold. “If you’re going to fish for other guys, don’t mess with me.” Me: ? Did he seriously think I was just playing him for fun? I was being completely genuine! The alcohol was hitting me hard, so I didn’t have the energy to argue. I just laid my head back and groaned. He drove me to my apartment building before noticing something was wrong. Holden: “Are you faking it?” Me: “I’m gonna throw up.” Holden: … Holden: “Do not throw up in my car.” Clearly, he loved his car more than me. He got out and hauled me onto the sidewalk. I leaned all my weight against him. “Why are you always so cold to me…” He didn’t say a word. I kept complaining. “Just take me to a hotel…” Holden went completely rigid. “Keep dreaming.” I whined, “But my apartment is on the fifth floor, and the elevator is broken… I can’t walk up…” Holden: … He was silent for a moment, then suddenly crouched down in front of me. “Get on.” Wait. Is he giving me a piggyback ride? “I want a princess carry!” I demanded. “I’m giving you three seconds.” I immediately jumped onto his back. Between the booze and the late hour, my senses were a bit blurry. I don’t remember the climb up the stairs very well. I just remember that Holden smelled incredible—like fresh rain and pine needles. He carried me inside and even poured me a glass of water. I purposely stumbled towards him. When he tried to step back, I let myself fall, forcing him to catch me. Teasing younger guys was honestly top-tier entertainment. I originally wanted to pretend I was too drunk so he’d have to stay the night, but decided against pushing my luck. Holden practically dragged me to my bed. When he wasn’t paying attention, I turned my head and lightly brushed my lips against his ear. He jolted like he’d been electrocuted. He shoved me back onto the mattress and practically sprinted out the front door, looking completely flustered. I lay there, stunned. He really just ran away? My buzz faded almost immediately. Annoyed, I sighed, threw on a jacket, and walked down to the corner bodega to grab two beers. When I walked out of the convenience store, popping the tab on a can, I saw a tall figure standing in the shadows outside my apartment building. The glowing red cherry of a cigarette faded as I approached. He took two steps forward, his handsome face catching the amber glow of the streetlamp. “Is playing drunk fun for you?” Holden asked. 5 …Busted. I immediately slipped back into character, stumbling toward him, slurring my words. “You’re still here…?” He just stared at me in absolute silence. It was excruciatingly awkward. But I had thick skin. I committed to the bit. I slumped against him like a wet noodle, mumbling nonsense. “Were you… worried about me?” I knew he wasn’t. “See, I knew you cared about me…” I was digging my own grave. “Do you… have a crush on your older sister?” What the hell was I even saying?! To my shock, Holden didn’t push me away. He stood there like a marble statue, letting me lean on him and act like a fool. I didn’t want to overthink whether he actually knew I was faking it. I looked up at him, putting on my best puppy-dog eyes. “I spent so much time doing my makeup today. Do you think I look pretty?” Holden’s eyes flickered. Suddenly, he reached out and pinched both of my cheeks. I was so surprised I froze, letting him squish my face into a weird shape. He stared down at me, letting out a very faint, breathy laugh. “Ugly.” The hallway light was broken, but his eyes were impossibly bright in the dark. It took me a second to process. Did he just call me ugly again?! I was determined to make him piggyback me upstairs again, so I doubled down on the drunk act. Holden watched me with an amused, patient expression. When I grabbed his arm to pull him, he used my momentum to spin me around, pinning my back against the brick wall of the building. The sudden, aggressive scent of his cologne and cigarette smoke overwhelmed me. I froze completely. Holden leaned in closer, stopping when our breaths were practically mingling. He narrowed his eyes, his tone impossible to read. “The drunk game ends here. Next time, call someone else to take you home.” Then he turned around and walked away without a second glance. Leaving me with a million questions. He did know I was faking! Then why didn’t he call me out when I was acting ridiculous? And what did he mean by “call someone else”? Did this little brat seriously think I was the kind of girl who just let anyone take her home? Before going to sleep, I was so mad I typed out a massive paragraph explaining myself in our chat. But right before hitting send, I deleted it all. Maybe I was being too aggressive. Maybe I made him misunderstand my intentions. Whatever. I needed to back off a bit so I didn’t scare the kid away. 6 For the next few days, the frequency of my “harassment” dropped significantly. The strategy of taking a step back to move forward actually worked. Holden replied to almost every text. Even though it was usually just “Oh,” “Yeah,” or “I’m busy.” I didn’t have much energy to focus on him anyway, because something incredibly dramatic happened in my own life. My first love, Tristan, suddenly reached out. Normally, I treat ex-boyfriends like they’re dead. I don’t look back. But Tristan refused to stay in the grave. Tristan was the longest relationship I’d ever had. His biggest selling point was his face. He was ridiculously good-looking. So good-looking, in fact, that a talent scout approached him on the street and signed him to an entertainment agency in LA. We had been together for two years by then. Once he signed the contract, his head got massive. He was obsessed with being a star and started picking fights with me over nothing. I knew he was looking for an excuse to dump me, so I beat him to the punch and broke up with him first. He agreed immediately. I was heartbroken for months. Now, a few years later, Tristan’s acting dreams had crashed and burned. He lost his agency contract and moved back home in disgrace. Finding out I was still single, he begged our mutual friends to set up a group dinner to “accidentally” run into me. That dinner was miserable. I left as early as I politely could. Only to find Tristan blocking my path outside my apartment building. He nervously rubbed the edge of his jacket. “Cece, after all these years, I still can’t forget you. After we broke up, I never liked anyone else.” Bullshit. His agency contract literally had a strict no-dating clause. Now he was trying to act like a romantic martyr? I looked at him coldly. “Sorry, I forgot about you a long time ago.” I turned toward the stairs without looking back. “Cece…” he called out softly. I glanced over my shoulder. Tristan was looking up at me, his hazel eyes looking tragically sad, his jawline as sharp as ever. I hated to admit it, but the guy was still stunning. So I offered him some genuine advice: “You should just go find a rich sugar mama. Don’t let a face like that go to waste.” 7 I thought my rejection was crystal clear, but Tristan was incredibly thick-skinned. He started “coincidentally” bumping into me everywhere. My marketing firm was doing field research that week, which meant I had to visit different retail locations every day. One of the locations was the coffee shop right off the UCLA campus. From the moment I arrived, I was on edge. I was terrified Tristan would show up and harass me, but I was equally terrified that Holden would see us together. I made an excuse to step out of the shop and walked down the main avenue, figuring I could hide for a bit. A few blocks down, I spotted Holden walking toward me. Speak of the devil. After dealing with Tristan’s constant stalking, I had done some serious self-reflection on how I had treated Holden. He probably hated seeing me around just as much as I hated seeing Tristan. I immediately spun around, pretending I didn’t see him. Footsteps approached from behind. Holden stopped right next to me. Since I couldn’t escape, I turned and held up my company lanyard. “I’m working. Market research on college demographics.” Holden gave a faint “Mhm.” “I wasn’t trying to follow you.” “Mhm.” “Okay, well, I’m gonna go…” “I’m a college student.” He suddenly leaned down, closing the distance between us. “Aren’t you going to survey me?” He was standing against the sunlight, casting a slight halo around his dark hair. When I met his eyes, my heart skipped a terrifyingly fast beat. I looked down at my clipboard. “Okay, let me just look at the questions…” “Cece, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere.” Tristan’s voice hit me like a bucket of ice water. I snapped back to reality. Literally my worst nightmare. “Why are you here?!” I grabbed his arm, pulling him aside, hissing under my breath. “I am working!” He held up an iced latte, looking like a kicked puppy. “It’s hot out. I brought you a drink.” I glanced nervously at Holden. He was staring blankly at Tristan, his expression completely unreadable. Then he simply said, “I’m leaving,” put his hands in his pockets, and walked away. I completely snapped. I turned on Tristan and let him have it. “Do you understand that this is stalking?! I made myself perfectly clear. Do you want me to call the police?” “Cece, I didn’t mean to—” “Tristan, if you actually care about me, you would respect my boundaries instead of doing these creepy, self-serving stunts.” He stared at me for a long time before finally nodding. “Okay.” After Tristan left, my mood plummeted. Because it suddenly hit me: what I was doing to Holden was no different than what Tristan was doing to me. It was the same persistent, boundary-ignoring harassment disguised as affection. When I went back to the coffee shop, a barista handed me a fresh lemonade with a teasing smile. “A really tall, handsome guy asked me to give this to you.” I froze. It had to be Holden. After I drank it, I took a picture of the empty cup and texted it to him. Me: Thank you. This time, Holden replied instantly. Holden: Don’t mention it. Holden: Just didn’t want you to drop dead from the heat. Me: … Such an awkward, defensive kid. I stared at the chat screen, my mood instantly lifting. Maybe my presence wasn’t entirely annoying to him after all.

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My older brother fell in love with a delinquent girl and planned to elope with her in the dead of night. Afraid he was ruining his life, I told our parents. He was successfully stopped, and the delinquent girl went to Los Angeles all alone. Five years later, that girl became a massive Hollywood A-lister. She invited my brother to her movie premiere and, in front of all our old classmates, publicly “thanked” him for not keeping her company back then. Humiliated and deeply regretful, my brother blamed me for everything. My parents beat me too, thinking it was my fault the family lost out on a superstar daughter-in-law who could have made them rich. Unable to defend myself, I was beaten to death by my own family in a fit of rage. When I opened my eyes again, my brother was whispering to me, “I have to leave with Chloe tonight. Do not tell Mom and Dad.” This time, I smiled and gave him my blessing: “Have a safe trip. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” 1 My brother was going to elope. Tonight. In the dim hallway of our house, he was crouching under the stairs like a thief, whispering into his phone. “2:00 AM. I’ll be there.” “I promise. If I don’t show up, I’m a dog.” In my previous life, I had come out of my room to get some water, overheard him, and asked where he was going. Afraid I would tell our parents, he confessed the truth. His high school girlfriend had been “discovered” by a talent scout at the mall over the weekend. The scout gave her a business card and invited her to Los Angeles to sign with a management agency. Worried about her going alone, my brother planned to sneak out in the middle of the night to accompany her to the audition. I was shocked. I knew his girlfriend. Her name was Chloe Miller, and she was a notorious rebel. Word was her parents were going through a messy divorce, and she acted out by trashing her own life—smoking, drinking, skipping class, and sneaking out to go clubbing. During his junior year, the school hadn’t given up on her yet. They assigned my brother—a straight-A student—to tutor her. Who knew that a semester later, not only did Chloe not reform, but she dragged my brother into a secret relationship. When she broke her leg jumping a fence, my brother carried her to the hospital. When she smoked in the alley, my brother would frown and snatch the cigarette away. It wasn’t until they were caught skipping class that the school finally discovered their romance. They called both sets of parents and forced them to break up. At the time, I was an eighth-grader studying for my high school entrance exams. My brother was a junior, ranked first in his entire grade. My dad came home cursing, pulled off his belt, and beat my brother mercilessly, demanding he cut ties with her or be beaten to death. My mom and I desperately shielded him, taking a few hits ourselves, until my brother finally gave in and promised never to see her again. He cried his eyes out that night. The seventeen-year-old boy looked utterly devastated. I secretly asked him, “Lucas, do you really like her that much?” He bit his lip and nodded pitifully. I tried to comfort him. “Then you guys can date after you graduate! It’s just one more year until college. One year goes by so fast.” Hearing that, the light returned to his eyes, and he nodded. After that, Lucas never mentioned Chloe again. When I started my freshman year of high school, I never saw Chloe around him either. I truly thought they had broken up. I never expected that a year later, during winter break of his senior year, he would try to elope under the moonlight to help her become a star. To me, the news was like a blow to the head. In my past life, I was frantic. I couldn’t let it happen. He was too young, only eighteen. I was terrified of him going to LA alone. In this day and age, what real talent scout just hands out cards at a mall? If she wanted to be an artist, she should apply to a performing arts college. What’s more, my dad had just spent over two thousand dollars enrolling him in an intensive SAT winter boot camp. He was supposed to leave for the closed-campus camp the very next morning. If he ran away now, Dad would literally kill him. Lucas looked at me pleadingly, pressing his hands together in a begging motion. “Just this once, Emma. I promise I’ll be back in five days. I’ll bring you back souvenirs from California. Just please, do not tell Mom and Dad.” I shook my head profusely, absolutely refusing. In that life, I didn’t listen. I yelled and screamed, waking up our parents. That night, Lucas tried desperately to escape but was overpowered by my dad. Forced to stay, he texted Chloe that he couldn’t make it and told her not to go either. Chloe went anyway, replying with a single word—”Liar”—and vanished for five years. No one could have predicted that five years later, Chloe would actually become a massive superstar. Not only was she insanely famous, but she was also in a highly publicized PR romance with the heir of a wealthy media empire. At a class reunion, Chloe—now an A-list celebrity—thanked the school administration, thanked her classmates, and then personally raised a glass to Lucas. She mocked him for not standing by her, saying that if he had gone, the Chloe of today wouldn’t exist. Lucas was humiliated beyond belief. Even though he had graduated from a top-tier university and had a promising, high-paying career. He couldn’t let go of his first love’s mockery. He went home and complained bitterly to our parents, exaggerating everything. When I came home, completely oblivious, a brutal beating from my entire family was waiting for me. I was beaten to the brink of death. I tried frantically to explain, but Lucas smashed a glass bottle over my head, ending my life right there. When I woke up, I was back to five years ago, on the day of the elopement. Holding a trash bag, standing in the hallway. My mom yelled from inside the house, telling me to hurry up. I snapped out of my daze, suppressed the bitter ache in my chest, and walked toward the stairs. When I came back, Lucas was guarding the door. He stared at me warily. “Did you hear me on the phone just now?” 2 I looked at his face, my heart aching terribly. This was my own flesh-and-blood brother. How could he bear to beat me to death? I only ever wanted the best for him. What did I do wrong?! Seeing me stay silent, Lucas frowned and pressed: “Did you hear something? I’m warning you, do not say a word to Mom and Dad.” Suddenly, it clicked. I realized he had been reborn too. Five years ago, he would never have spoken to me in that tone. Only the Lucas who deeply regretted his choices after Chloe became famous would treat me like this. I tested him with a cold smirk. “Where you go is none of my business. What, are you going to beat your sister to death like a murderer if I talk?” Lucas gasped. The look on his face instantly shifted to pure panic. His reaction confirmed my suspicion. The bitterness in my heart solidified, and any remaining hope I had for him vanished. I refused to believe a murderer could just get away with it in a lawful society. He must have been arrested eventually. And if he was arrested and still showed no remorse in this new life, why should I waste my breath? “Move.” I turned sideways, my face cold, trying to push past him. “Wait!” He grabbed my wrist, his face dark. “I accidentally killed you because I was out of my mind. But since we’re both back, you better keep your nose out of my business. Tonight, I am leaving with Chloe.” His tone was incredibly stubborn, as if terrified I would stop him again. My blood ran cold. “If you want to go, go. Let go of me!” He didn’t let go. Hearing my words, his grip only tightened. “I’m not joking around with you! In our past life, because of you, Chloe and I missed our chance. God took pity on me and gave me a second chance. I have to go with her tonight. Do not tell Mom and Dad, or I’ll make you pay!” I couldn’t take it anymore. Unable to suppress my rage, I gripped my house keys and slammed them as hard as I could into his chest. He cried out in pain and instinctively let go. I immediately screamed at the top of my lungs: “Mom! Mom! Lucas hit me!” Lucas jumped, terrified, and rushed over to cover my mouth. At this point in time, my mom still loved me. She hadn’t yet developed the resentment she would harbor five years later. I screamed so pitifully that both my parents rushed out in a panic. Seeing Lucas frantically covering my mouth, they immediately started smacking and scolding him. I went into my room crying, locking the door without explaining anything. Lucas spent the whole evening in a state of paranoia. It wasn’t until I took a shower and went back to my room that he finally let out a sigh of relief and sent me a text. “Let’s wipe the slate clean. Once I make it big, I’ll make it up to you.” I sneered. That was a human life. If we hadn’t been reborn, how would you possibly make it up to me? “Have a safe trip. Don’t let the door hit you.” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, gritted my teeth, sent the message, and blocked his number. Let it be. If he wanted to be brave and chase love, that was his business. From now on, I am Emma Davis. If I ever meddle in his affairs again, I’m a dog! 3 The next few days were quiet. My brother ran away in the middle of the night. He went straight to Los Angeles. He was smart and completely prepared. In his past life, he had found a shady clinic to write a fake emergency room note for our mom. He had a classmate going to the same winter camp submit it for him, making the teachers think he missed camp to care for his hospitalized mother. At home, however, he left a letter for our parents saying he left in the middle of the night to catch a discounted bus to save them money. He told them not to worry, that he was already at the camp, and would text them once he was settled. With this manipulation, he managed to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. My parents were so moved, thinking their son was incredibly mature. The teachers didn’t call, never imagining a top student would lie like that. I just sneered in the background. Seeing my mom wipe away tears of affection was almost comical. She had no idea the teachers thought she was fighting for her life in an ER. I didn’t expect my brother to be so thorough. He really racked his brain for love. In my past life, I stopped him, and he hated me for five years. The first three years weren’t too bad. Even though Chloe had blocked him, she was a nobody, and my brother didn’t know her situation. He was just cold and sarcastic towards me. But in the fourth year, Chloe suddenly blew up. After that, my brother’s mental state completely collapsed. He always believed I was the one who tore them apart. If I hadn’t been so nosy, he would be the boyfriend of a massive superstar. How could the girl who used to sit on his lap be so out of reach now? So he hated me. He found every way possible to torture and retaliate against me at home. He would spit in my toothbrush cup. He would deliberately pee on my face towel. At first, my parents intervened, thinking a grassroots celebrity was nothing special. But as Chloe got more famous, making millions a movie, my parents started feeling the sting too. They realized they had lost a cash-cow daughter-in-law. I had tried to find Chloe, hoping to reconcile her and my brother. But Chloe refused to see me and ignored my DMs. I had to endure my brother’s resentment, tolerating it as long as he didn’t cross the line. Now, everything was back on track. He got what he wanted, following Chloe to Los Angeles. Whatever the consequences, it had nothing to do with me anymore. I really wanted to see if he could make it to the end with Chloe. You have to remember, in our past life, Chloe didn’t become famous until three years later. As a high school senior, could he really survive in LA to support her for three years? Time flew by. In a blink, it was six days later. For six straight days, aside from the initial “I’m safe” text, my brother hadn’t sent a single message. My mom complained to me, wondering why he was so busy. Even at a closed-campus camp, they should give the students some free time. It had been so long, and he hadn’t even called. I comforted her with a few words, rolling my eyes internally. He finally reunited with his white swan after five years. They were probably exploring the birds and the bees in some motel room. At their age, fueled by passion, who remembers to call their mom? But then I thought about it and realized that couldn’t be it. My brother had said before he left that he would return to the camp in five days max. If he stayed away too long and his cover was blown, my dad wouldn’t let him off easily. But now it was day seven, and he still hadn’t returned. I felt a bit uneasy. On one hand, I hoped he was fine. On the other hand, he was my biological brother; if something really happened, covering for him wouldn’t do me any favors. During my hesitation, on the eighth day, news finally came. It was the LAPD calling. “Hello, is this the family of Lucas Davis?” “This is the Los Angeles Police Department.” “We busted a human trafficking and scam ring. Your son, Lucas, was held captive inside…” My mom had the phone on speaker while watching TV. Hearing that call, we were both stunned. Wait, my brother went to LA with Chloe to chase a dream, and ended up in a human trafficking ring??? 4 Facts proved that chasing dreams while young is risky. The police said my brother was lured into the trafficking ring on his second day in LA. He was abused for six days before they successfully escaped, thanks to Chloe calling the cops. When we saw my brother in the hospital, I could hardly believe my eyes. He was in a hospital gown, covered in bruises. He sat on the bed like a wilted vegetable, staring blankly out the window, his face a mask of complete numbness. The doctors told us he had endured horrific torture. He had been sexually assaulted and contracted syphilis. My mom couldn’t believe it and broke down crying on the spot. Hearing her familiar voice, my brother turned his head slowly. He stared at my mom for a few seconds before letting out a loud, agonizing wail. He struggled to crawl over, collapsing into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. My dad had come in full of rage, wanting to demand why he was here. But seeing my brother like that, all his anger vanished. The three of them hugged and cried like survivors of a disaster movie. I stood to the side, feeling incredibly awkward. I couldn’t force a tear out if I tried, feeling completely out of place. From the police, we learned the details of my brother’s ordeal. It turned out the “talent scout” who gave Chloe the card was a con artist. The syndicate they ran was pure evil. Anyone lured in would be subjected to severe abuse. After breaking them down, the captives were either forced to join the scammers to trick others, or, if they were disobedient, their organs would be harvested and sold on the black market. My brother was in disbelief. In his past life, he firmly believed Chloe flourished under that scout’s guidance three years later. He never imagined the guy was a fraud. Chloe was cautious at first and didn’t want to trust him easily. But my brother, terrified the scout would leave, kept urging her to listen. The two of them had dinner with the scout, and the next day they were drugged and taken to a compound on the outskirts of the city. If Chloe hadn’t been incredibly resilient—jumping from a second-story window and miraculously surviving to call the police—they might still be in there suffering today. “Mom, you have no idea what monsters they are.” “They didn’t just beat me, they… they violated me.” “I don’t want to live anymore. I want to die. What am I going to do with my life?!” My brother was hysterical, clinging to my mom, tears streaming down his face. I lowered my eyes, pretending to be sad, honestly not knowing how to react. In our past life, I stopped him, and he blamed me for tearing him and Chloe apart. This time he went, only to drag Chloe into a trafficking ring with him. Is this what they call instant karma? The universe’s justice is swift and merciless. Chloe was supposed to be a mega-star in five years. If I were her, having been dragged into this nightmare, I’d crawl out of bed in the middle of the night to strangle him! At the same time, I was incredibly confused. Since that talent scout was a fraud, how did Chloe become a superstar three years later? Did the scammers suddenly grow a conscience, let her go, and invest millions to make her famous? Or did she go to LA alone in her past life, remain highly vigilant, and avoid getting kidnapped altogether? This question didn’t trouble me for long. Two days later, a teenage boy in a wheelchair rolled into my brother’s hospital room. 5 I recognized this boy. His name was Sebastian Vance. He had another identity: the grandson of the Chairman of Vance Media Group, and the heavily rumored boyfriend of Chloe when she became famous in my past life. I never expected to meet him here, but I recognized him instantly. I was even more surprised when my brother, who had been crying for two days, forced a smile and greeted him upon seeing him. “Sebastian, you’re here. How are you holding up? I heard your family came to get you?” His tone was so familiar, I almost thought they were close friends. Sebastian smiled faintly and replied, “I’m alright. My injuries aren’t too bad. But what about you? Are you holding up?” My brother, ever fragile, teared up immediately. Choking back sobs, he said, “I’m surviving.” My dad was out of the room. He had heard his precious son came to LA to accompany Chloe to an audition. He had spent the last two days looking for her, going room to room asking where Chloe’s room was, vowing to settle the score with her. My mom poured Sebastian a cup of water and asked who he was. Sebastian smiled as he took it. “I’m a friend of Lucas’s. Actually, we met while we were locked up. If Chloe hadn’t jumped out the window to call the cops, we wouldn’t even know how long we’d be trapped there.” Hearing this, it all clicked into place for me. No wonder Chloe still became a star in the past life despite being scammed. She ended up trapped in a trafficking ring with the young heir of a media empire! Talk about a blessing in disguise! Chloe’s debut in my past life was highly secretive. No one knew she had been in a trafficking ring. She disappeared for three years, and her very first role was the lead in the hottest fantasy drama of the year. The following two years were smooth sailing. Many people shipped her with various actors, but the most aggressive PR shipping was with Sebastian. Sebastian visited her sets constantly, and the agency she signed with upon her debut was owned by Vance Media. The entertainment industry is full of smoke and mirrors, with many rumors based on hearsay. Now, seeing Sebastian, I could basically confirm it. Thinking about the past, Chloe must have ended up in that trafficking ring, but she dared to jump from the window. Or rather, after she escaped with someone’s help, she became friends with Sebastian because of that shared trauma. One was a naive girl lured to LA by a fake scout while chasing a dream. The other was the grandson of a media mogul, who just happened to have the resources to help the naive girl achieve that dream. This fairy-tale plot playing out in reality was truly unbeatable. It meant that in the past life, Chloe’s opportunity to become a star was entirely thanks to Sebastian. This guy was her secret benefactor. Meeting him in such bizarre circumstances was incredibly ironic. But… My gaze fell on Sebastian’s legs. In my past life, he was photographed by paparazzi wearing a tailored white suit, tall and fit. His legs were perfectly fine back then. Why was he in a wheelchair now? Did he get injured in the trafficking ring in this life? That was heartbreaking. I sincerely wished my brother was the only one who got hurt.

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My Ex-Boyfriend on Death Row. The following winter, I bumped into him at a local grocery store. “You’re not dead?” He raised an eyebrow. “Wishing me into the grave already?” 1 When I first saw Liam by the shelves, I thought my mind was playing a cruel trick on me. “What, don’t even recognize your own man anymore?” I ignored him. I bit my lip hard. Before I could even process what was happening, Liam naturally grabbed my right hand. He pulled me a couple of steps forward, his other hand hovering over the shelf as he turned to ask me, “Smooth or ribbed? Strawberry or mint?” His tone was so casual, it was as if we had never been apart. I pinched my thigh. Hard. It hurt. This wasn’t a dream! Finally snapping out of my shock, I violently shook off his hand. “Why are you here?!” “Where else would I be? Who was the one whining about being too sore to walk last night, demanding a piggyback ride out of the apartment?” He tapped his lower back. “You completely wrecked my back, and you’ll be the one crying about it later.” I froze again. Liam was talking about five years ago. Back then, we had just started dating and were completely in the honeymoon phase. If he kept me up all night, I’d stubbornly make him carry me on his back the next day. But those sweet days were years behind us. Why was Liam suddenly standing here, saying these bizarre, time-warped things? I still don’t know how I ended up letting him follow me home. Maybe it was because his transition back into my life felt so seamless. Everything he did felt so natural that it temporarily scrambled my own memories. It wasn’t until we walked through my front door and the faint scent of baby formula hit my nose that reality crashed over me. By then, Liam had already wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. His hands wandered, and he squeezed slightly, sounding confused. “Did these get bigger? Did those massages actually work?” Smack! I slapped his hands away, my face burning crimson. Liam wasn’t mad. He just chuckled, swept me off my feet, and threw me over his shoulder, heading straight for the bedroom. I was completely panicked. My only thought was: He absolutely cannot go in that bedroom. “Liam!” I screamed, thrashing wildly. “Put me down!” Sensing my genuine panic, he set me down. He looked at me standing defensively in front of the closed bedroom door. “What, you hiding a dog in there?” I was sweating from the nerves. Liam’s face darkened. “Move.” I let out a shaky breath. “Liam, we broke up.” “Say that again. I dare you.” I’d known him for eight years. I knew his temper inside and out. When his voice dropped to that dangerous, quiet timber, he was on the brink of exploding. I bit my lip and repeated it. “We broke up. Years ago. And based on the timeline… you should be dead right now.” Liam finally realized something was horribly wrong. He looked around. This wasn’t my cramped college apartment; the modern decor was entirely different. And looking at me, the youthful, naive glow of my early twenties was gone. His voice went hoarse. “What year is it?” “2022.” He grabbed me, pulling me flush against his chest. “Are you messing with me?” I just stared back at him. Slowly, his expression twisted into something haunted. Finally, he whispered, “Impossible. No matter what year it is, I would never, ever break up with you.” I lowered my eyes. “But I’m married.” The room fell into a suffocating silence. Through his bloodshot eyes, I could see the storm of emotions raging inside him. He used every ounce of his willpower to hold himself back, gritting his teeth as he asked, “Chloe… did you just calculate that I wouldn’t have the heart to hurt you?” “You’re dead, Liam.” “Fuck!” He kicked the wall, turned around, and stormed out. I waited until he was completely gone before I slowly slid down the bedroom door, curling into a tight ball on the floor. My mind was a chaotic mess. I never thought I’d see him again. And definitely not like this. The bedroom door opened from the inside. My nanny peeked out. “Chloe, was that…” I shook my head. She got the hint and didn’t pry. “Well, at least little Maya didn’t wake up.” I looked at my daughter, sleeping peacefully in her crib, and my heart rate slowly returned to normal. Whether Liam faked his death, time-traveled, or came back as a ghost—I didn’t care. I couldn’t risk letting him near Maya. And I never wanted her to know that her father was a convicted felon. 2 Maybe my words really got to him, because for days, he didn’t show up again. But he haunted my dreams. I dreamed of the high school bad boy in a leather jacket, slouching as he followed me home; I dreamed of the desperate Liam, eyes red after I rejected his first confession, yelling, “You don’t have a damn heart!”; And I dreamed of the idiot Liam who sprinted to my dorm at 3 A.M. on graduation night just to make sure my “yes” to being his girlfriend wasn’t a prank. All those beautiful memories, shattered by the echo of a firing squad. I’d wake up gasping, my pillow soaked in tears. On Monday, I was commuting to work in a daze when I encountered a creep on the subway. The train was packed, and I felt a hand grope my thigh. I whipped around to see a middle-aged guy giving me a greasy, unapologetic smirk, clearly betting I’d be too scared to make a scene. Just as I opened my mouth to scream at him, a heavy work boot shot out from nowhere and planted itself squarely into the guy’s ribs. “Where the fuck do you think your hands are going? You think you can touch what’s mine?” Then, I saw him. Liam’s mouth was curled into an arrogant smirk, but his eyes were absolute ice. The vein at his temple was throbbing—the exact look he always had right before he destroyed someone. The kick was brutal. The creep crumpled to the floor. It took the guy a solid minute to scramble up. He looked like he wanted to argue, but one look at Liam’s murderous aura had him muttering under his breath and bolting for the next car. Liam never had a good temper, especially when it came to me. Seeing him step forward to chase the guy, and noticing a passenger pulling out a phone to record, I panicked and grabbed his arm. “Don’t. Let him go.” He raised an eyebrow. “Scared? I’m right here.” I was scared because he was here! If the cops got involved, how the hell was I supposed to explain this? “Sorry, Officer, he didn’t do anything wrong, he’s just a dead inmate who resurrected to fight subway gropers.” We’d be on the national news. The current Liam still didn’t know how he supposedly died. And I had no intention of telling him. I just wanted a quiet life. And I wanted him to stay out of trouble. “You taught him a lesson, that’s enough. Besides, you don’t need to fight my battles anymore.” “I don’t? Fine. Let your ‘husband’ do it then.” Liam leaned against the subway doors, crossing his arms. “Since you’re so happily married, when do I get to meet the lucky guy?” Maybe it was my imagination, but he seemed almost amused. “He’s out of town on business,” I deflected. “He doesn’t have time.” “Perfect. I’ll just keep playing the role until he gets back.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because on my timeline, sweetheart, we are very much still together.” I thought he was just talking trash. But the next evening, I walked into my apartment complex and saw a man in a security uniform leaning against the front gate. It was Liam. He strolled over with that signature swagger. “Temperature check, ma’am.” I didn’t offer my wrist. “What are you doing?” “Working, obviously.” Working, my ass! When I just glared at him, he smirked. “Miss, please cooperate with building security.” I ground my teeth and reluctantly held out my hand. He actually pulled out a thermometer gun and beeped my wrist. “98.6. perfectly normal. Have a good evening.” He was just going to let me go? I walked a few steps away, feeling completely unsettled. I couldn’t help but look back. Liam’s gaze was burning into my back. When our eyes met, his smirk widened into a full-blown grin. I practically sprinted to my building, feeling like I’d touched a hot stove. My heart was pounding. I had a sinking feeling that my secrets weren’t going to stay hidden for long. 3 The staff directory at the front gate had been updated. There was a new photo under the security guard section. Walking past it a few days later, I glanced at it. It was Liam—jaw clenched, looking annoyed at having his picture taken. But when I looked at the name underneath, I froze. “Ethan Miller.” I thought I misread it. I stepped closer. No, it clearly said Ethan Miller. “Excuse me, is this name tag wrong?” I asked a property manager walking by, pointing at Liam’s photo. She smiled. “Nope! That’s Ethan, our new hire. Good-looking kid, right?” Something clicked in my brain, and a chill ran down my spine. If Liam really had “time-traveled” from five years ago, with no knowledge of the future, why would he be using a fake name? I couldn’t shake the unease, but I tried to push it out of my mind. That night, just as I stepped out of the shower, the power went out. Maya, who had been playing in her crib, started screaming in the pitch black. The nanny had already gone home. Panicking, I called the front desk. “We’ll send security up to check your breaker right away, ma’am.” Liam worked the day shift. Surely it wouldn’t be him. When the knock came, I bounced Maya on my hip and opened the door. “Hi, the power just—” I stopped dead. I was staring right at Liam. Well, technically, we were staring at each other. All three of us. Liam didn’t say a word. His eyes were locked onto the baby in my arms. His voice was terrifyingly raspy when he finally pointed at her. “What is that?” “A b-baby,” I stammered. Liam let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Chloe, I’ve only been ‘dead’ for a year.” The apartment was suffocatingly dark. Strangely enough, Maya stopped crying the second she saw him. With tears still clinging to her eyelashes, she stared at him with big, curious eyes. She even reached a chubby little hand out toward him, wanting to be held. The dark aura surrounding Liam softened just a fraction. “Whose is she?” he croaked. “I told you. I’m married.” “Married my f—” He caught himself before swearing in front of the baby. He let out a harsh exhale. “I’ll deal with you later.” He pushed past me with his toolbox. “Where’s the breaker box?” He was actually here to fix the electricity. Liam was incredibly handy; I knew that from college. Once, my roommate spilled water on my laptop. A repair shop quoted me $400 I didn’t have. Liam had just clamped a cigarette between his teeth, taken the whole thing apart, and fixed it for free. I’d been so nervous watching him. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” He had just side-eyed me. “If I break it, I’ll buy you a new one.” He fixed it perfectly. And my roommate stopped complaining about me dating a “dropout.” My mind had drifted so far I didn’t hear him calling my name. “What?” I blinked. “I said, step back. I’m covered in dust.” Only then did I realize that Maya had leaned over and was actively smacking Liam’s face, giggling uncontrollably. “Oh, sorry!” I quickly pulled her back. Liam clamped a flashlight between his teeth and went back to the wires, ignoring us. Maya, however, was furious at being pulled away. Her lower lip wobbled, and she started wailing. It was past her bedtime, and she was getting cranky. She rubbed her eyes and tugged at my shirt. I had no choice. I glanced at Liam—he was fully focused on the electrical panel. So, I sat on the edge of the couch in the dark, pulled down my top, and started nursing her. Maya happily kicked her little legs, finally settling down. A few minutes later, the lights blazed back to life. “It was a short circuit, tripped the main breaker. I just—” Liam turned around and stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at me, completely losing his train of thought. I hadn’t expected him to fix it that fast. My face flushed hot as lava. “I… she…” I stammered, afraid to make any sudden movements to cover myself. His voice dropped a full octave. “I’m gonna go wash my hands.” He bolted for the bathroom. I looked down at a blissfully fed Maya and sighed. Both of them were going to be the death of me. 4 Once Maya was asleep, it was just the two of us in the living room. Liam instinctively reached for his pockets for a cigarette, remembered where he was, and stopped. “I’m moving in tomorrow.” The sheer audacity of his tone threw me off. “No, you aren’t. And she’s not your kid.” “Do you think I don’t know how a paternity test works?” My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to deny it, but I was terrified he’d actually force a test. My hesitation was all the confirmation he needed. A triumphant smile spread across his face. “Chloe, I’m already missing five years of memories. Don’t play me.” I didn’t know who was playing who anymore. But letting him move in was impossible. I hadn’t even figured out how to face him, let alone live with him. With Maya in the picture, I couldn’t take risks. Desperate, I made a phone call. The next morning, Liam was waiting downstairs again. He was in regular clothes, looking as irritatingly handsome as ever. A couple of female residents were lingering nearby, clearly trying to flirt with him. Seeing me, he strode over. “I’ll give you a ride.” “No need,” I said, avoiding his gaze. “My husband is back.” Right on cue, a sleek black Mercedes pulled up to the curb. The door opened, and Oliver stepped out. He was dressed in an immaculate tailored suit. He walked right past Liam as if he were invisible and smiled at me. “Waiting long?” “No, I just got down.” Before getting in the car, I took a deep breath and turned to Liam. “I told you. I’m married. Please… just leave me alone.” I got in before he could react. Watching the rearview mirror, Liam’s figure grew smaller and smaller until he disappeared. “Regrets?” Oliver handed me a tissue. I realized my cheeks were wet. “No. Thank you for doing this, Oliver.” I told myself I was making the right choice. As we pulled up to my office building, Oliver stopped me before I got out. “Chloe, let’s get married for real.” I thought I misheard him. “Excuse me?” “Let’s make it official. Even with Maya.” Oliver wasn’t just my boss; he was my savior. When Liam vanished and I found out I was pregnant, my conservative family disowned me for refusing an abortion. Oliver had hired me, mentored me, and protected me from the vicious office gossip. We had a mutually beneficial arrangement: I acted as his fake girlfriend to keep his wealthy family from forcing him into blind dates, and he gave me a safe harbor. But I never expected this. “That guy this morning is the father, right?” Oliver asked calmly. “Since you clearly don’t want to get back together, and he won’t let it go, marrying me is the smartest move. I can provide for both of you.” I wasn’t a naive twenty-year-old anymore. I didn’t delude myself into thinking a billionaire CEO was swooning over a single mom. “Can I ask why?” “I’ve grown fond of you,” Oliver said smoothly. “And I adore Maya. Plus… due to a medical condition, I can’t have children of my own.” That, I hadn’t expected. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. He smiled. “Not your fault. Don’t give me an answer now. Just think about it.” I actually did think about it. Oliver was stable, wealthy, and kind. If he truly couldn’t have kids, he would treat Maya like his own. It was the logical, safe choice. When I got home that evening, Liam was at the gate again. He looked grim—probably having bought the “husband” lie. But that night, just after Maya fell asleep, my phone vibrated. An unknown number. I picked it up. No one spoke, just heavy breathing on the other end. I sat up in bed. I knew exactly who it was. Neither of us said a word. The silence stretched until he finally spoke. “Chloe… do you really not want me anymore?” “Are you drunk?” He ignored the question. “What do I do? I don’t think I have a home anymore.” That single sentence shattered all my defenses. Liam’s parents had messy divorces and abandoned him. He lived alone since high school. Nobody craved a family more than he did. Then, I heard a sharp intake of breath over the receiver. My chest tightened. Was he crying? Liam never cried. My throat went dry. “Where are you?” “Downstairs.” I looked out the window and saw him sitting on the curb under a streetlight. I knew I was weak. Because when he whispered, “I want to see you,” I heard myself say: “Come up.” 5 The moment I unlocked the door, it was like letting a starving wolf into the house. He pinned me against the wall and kissed me like a dying man gasping for air. Every instinct screamed at me to push him away, but Liam always knew exactly how to dismantle my logic. My mind went blank, leaving only muscle memory and desire. The living room was a mess. Lying in the moonlight, I could see the smug curve of his lips. “The husband thing was a lie, wasn’t it?” Looking at his triumphant face, I saw absolutely zero evidence that he had been crying. I realized I’d been played. Embarrassed and furious, I shoved his shoulder. “Do we have to talk about this right now?!” He laughed softly. “Nope.” Just before I drifted off to sleep, I felt him kiss my forehead. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. When I woke up, I was alone in bed. Panic seized me when I saw Maya’s crib was empty. I bolted into the living room, only to stop dead in my tracks. Liam was sitting on the playmat, zooming a toy car through the air. Maya was reaching for it, shrieking with pure joy. The scene was so domestic, so overwhelmingly perfect, it knocked the breath out of me. Liam looked up and smiled. “Look, Maya, Mommy’s awake.” Maya babbled and crawled toward me as fast as her little limbs could carry her, demanding to be picked up. Once she was in my arms, Liam stood up and headed for the kitchen. “Her name is Maya?” “Yeah.” He paused for a fraction of a second, then seamlessly opened the fridge. “I’ll make us some breakfast.” It proved that once you gave Liam an inch, he would conquer the entire continent. Like a cockroach surviving a nuclear blast, he had successfully infiltrated my life. First, I found men’s underwear mixed in with my laundry. Then I found his socks in my drawers. Today, I found two of his jackets hanging in my closet. I threw the jackets at his chest. “I don’t recall asking you to move in.” He caught them with a grin. “Just leaving a few things for emergencies.” “We don’t have emergencies. Take them back.” He had been teaching Maya how to walk, bent over with his arms out like a protective hen. He stood up straight. “Look, Chloe. I told you, we never broke up. If someone hurt you during those five years I was ‘gone,’ give me a name and I’ll end them. But stop taking it out on a law-abiding citizen like me.” Law-abiding citizen? Please. While we were bickering, Maya tripped over her own feet and landed hard on her diaper-padded butt. Because Liam had been spoiling her rotten, she immediately felt slighted. Her lower lip jutted out, and she let out a theatrical wail. Liam scooped her up, cooing sympathetically. “Is Mommy being mean? Trying to kick Daddy out?” He shot me a dirty look. “Stop trying to destroy this family in front of the kid. Look how traumatized she is.” Me? Destroying the family?! That night, to punish me for trying to kick him out, he refused to let me sleep. “Chloe, we’ve only been together twice since I got back. For a man in his prime, this is basically starvation.” I wanted to cover my face. “Do you have no shame?” “Only with you.” He picked me up and carried me to the sofa. He didn’t turn on the lights, but in the pale moonlight, as he leaned over me, I saw it. Right over his left chest. A perfectly round, jagged scar. It looked exactly like a bullet wound. 6 Liam was hiding something massive. I knew that now. He used a fake name. He had a bullet hole near his heart. Things were pointing toward the worst-case scenario. Honestly, I preferred the delusion that he had just time-traveled. At least that was safe. But the next day at work, Oliver called me into his office. “Have you thought about my proposal?” I had almost forgotten. “Oliver, I think…” He cut me off. “You’re hesitating.” I was. Oliver tapped his pen against the desk, his eyes calculating. “Actually, there’s something I’m very curious about. Maybe you can enlighten me. How exactly does a dead man walk back out of a grave?” My blood ran ice cold. My mind went entirely blank. I forced a confused smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Relax, I’m just curious,” Oliver smiled smoothly. “But seriously, you should consider the marriage. Maya is young. If something… unfortunate were to happen, it would be a shame for you to face it alone.” I walked out of his office with my heart hammering against my ribs. That was a threat. If he hadn’t said that, I might not have suspected anything. But now, the pieces were clicking together in a terrifying way. Oliver was incredibly wealthy. He was handsome. Even if he couldn’t have biological children, women would line up to marry him. Why fixate on me? Why stoop to threatening me? His interest in me wasn’t about love. It was about Liam. That afternoon, I went to the bank and withdrew every cent of my savings. Before Liam had vanished years ago, he left me a massive sum of money. I never touched it because I didn’t know where it came from. Combined with my own savings, it was enough for Maya and me to disappear to a quiet town out of state. When Liam got home, I looked at him. “Liam, I’m quitting my job. I’m taking Maya and moving to the Midwest. Will you come with us?” The moment I said it, I knew I was damning myself. But I didn’t care. In the past, I had no choices. Today, I was willing to burn down my entire moral compass to keep him alive. Liam stared at me intently. He knew I knew. But he didn’t ask questions. He just cupped my face. “Chloe, you don’t have to give up anything for me.” “I want to,” I cried, the tears finally spilling over. “Let’s just live a normal life.” He pulled me in tight. So he remembered. He wasn’t missing five years of memories. He remembered everything. But he would never know how much that single promise—to live a normal life—meant to me. That night, the nightmares returned. I dreamed of the day two years ago when he said he had to leave for a while. Then, the news report that he had been executed for international drug smuggling. I jolted awake. The bed was empty. I crept into the dark living room. The balcony door was slightly ajar. Liam was on his phone, his voice a low whisper. “The shipment is with Hayes. Don’t worry. But Oliver knows something. Keep a tight tail on him.” A pause. Then Liam chuckled darkly. “Don’t worry about me. I’m harder to kill than that.” I stepped back in horror, my foot slamming into the coffee table. Liam hung up instantly and rushed in. “What happened?” “Don’t touch me!” I held my hands up. He froze. My voice was trembling with sobs. “Are you ever going to tell me the truth?” He clamped his jaw shut. “Tell me this, at least,” I begged. “Are you… are you going to die again?” His eyes softened. “No.” He closed the distance and wrapped his arms around me. “I’m staying right here. I promise.”

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