Category: English

1 My wife came back from her business trip to Los Angeles and handed me a souvenir. It was a keychain of Dawn Bellwether, the villainous sheep from Zootopia. “Isn’t she cute? The second I saw her, I immediately thought of you.” At that exact moment, I knew she was cheating on me. Vanessa’s public Instagram feed was completely spotless. She only ever shared boring corporate updates and links to industry articles. Out of curiosity, I logged into an old burner account I rarely used and searched for her handle. Her profile had a ‘Close Friends’ story highlight. The very first pinned photo was a selfie of her and my best friend. My best friend, Finn, had just updated his own social media. There was a carousel of nine photos. Every single one of them featured Vanessa in some way. “One week trip. Two days of work, five days of dates. Let’s go!” “She bought the Lightning Lane passes for Disney so we didn’t have to wait in line. Absolute perfection!” “Matching Nick and Judy keychains for us. As for the villainous sheep, I wonder who we should give that to.” accompanied by two smirking emojis. I switched back to my burner account and refreshed Vanessa’s page. Sure enough, she had posted a new picture just an hour ago. The bunny, Judy Hopps, was clipped to her pink designer briefcase. The fox, Nick Wilde, was hanging off Finn’s black leather backpack. The caption was just two words. “A pair.” All the oxygen was instantly sucked out of the room. My lungs completely forgot how to work. So she knew exactly what she was doing. She knew the fox and the bunny were a romantic couple. We had dated for three years and been married for two. Yet somehow, in her twisted romance with Finn, I was nothing more than the villain standing in their way. I logged back into my main account and tapped on Vanessa’s profile. I couldn’t see a single thing. It wasn’t that she had blocked me. She had explicitly told me years ago that she never posted personal photos. When we were dating, I used to complain about it. I begged her to post a picture of us together just once. She would just hold my hand and laugh at me for being childish. “Declan, I am a business professional now. If I post cheesy couple photos on my feed, what will my investors think?” “If they think I’m distracted or unreliable, they’ll pull their funding.” “My startup is just getting off the ground. I have to project absolute competence. If I build this company into an empire, we’ll be set for life. Isn’t that what matters?” I swallowed those hypocritical excuses for five entire years. It was all a lie. She could post photos. She could pin matching couple pictures to the top of her page. The subject just wasn’t me. It was Finn. The boy who grew up in the house next door to mine. The boy I had protected and raised alongside me. The boy I treated as my own flesh and blood. Tears completely blurred my vision, heavy drops hitting my phone screen. I really was childish. I was a complete idiot. I had been flawlessly played by the two people I loved most in this world. Right then, a notification popped up on my phone. A text from Finn. “Declan! Check out my new keychain. Pretty cool, right?” He attached a photo of the solo fox keychain. If this were yesterday, I would have sent back a genuine compliment. But right now, his playful, innocent tone made me want to violently throw up. A week ago, Finn had excitedly told me he made a new friend from California and was flying out to LA to hang out for a week. When he told me, he nudged my shoulder with a mischievous grin. “You’re not going to get jealous that I’m going on vacation with someone else, are you?” I was so incredibly naive. I thought he was just joking about our bromance. I played along, acting like the generous older brother. “Obviously not! You can make a hundred new friends, but I’ll always be your best man.” “But if you dare find a friend better than me, you’re dead meat!” I had even factored in Vanessa’s schedule. “Actually, Vanessa is flying to LA for a conference in a couple of days. If you and your friend run into any trouble, just call her.” Finn had laughed so hard he bent over, raising his hand as if taking an oath. “I swear on my life, I will never find a friend better than Declan Reed.” “Don’t worry, man. I will text you every single day. I’ll tell you exactly what I’m doing and where I’m going. You’re going to virtually experience LA with me!” I never could have imagined that the vacation I was virtually experiencing was my own wife’s romantic getaway. 2 I didn’t reply to his photo. Instead, I scrolled up through our chat history. Two nights ago, he sent me a barrage of texts. “We went to a crazy expensive Michelin star place tonight! It was insane, but thank God my friend paid! We have to go together next time, Declan!” “Disneyland was packed today, my feet are killing me.” Over the past few days, he had flawlessly shared his entire itinerary with me. And I had eagerly replied to every single text, genuinely thrilled that he was finally stepping out of his shell and enjoying life. Finn and I grew up in houses directly across from each other. His mother passed away when he was young, and his father was a violent alcoholic. Whenever things got bad at his house, he would run across the street and bang on my front door. I would pull him inside, clean up his bruises, and sneak him my favorite snacks. Since I was two grades ahead of him, I basically became his private tutor. I used to sit with him on my porch and tell him: “Finn, you can’t choose the family you’re born into. But you can study hard, get into a good college, and build a completely new life for yourself.” “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.” But life doesn’t always work out like a movie. He didn’t get into college, and he couldn’t escape the suffocating grip of his toxic household. Last year, his father finally drank himself to death. Finn called me in the middle of the night, sobbing hysterically. “Declan, my dad is dead. I don’t have a single family member left in the world…” I drove straight to his town, packed his bags, and moved him to Boston with me. I pulled strings to get him a decent job, and introduced him to Vanessa. I wiped his tears and looked him dead in the eye. “I am your family now.” He nodded aggressively and pulled me into a crushing hug. And it only took one single year. One year for him to start sleeping with my wife behind my back. I didn’t know if he ever genuinely viewed me as family. But he clearly viewed my wife as his own. The sound of the deadbolt clicking snapped me out of my trance. The front door swung open. Vanessa walked in. I looked up at her, but the joyful spark that usually accompanied her return from business trips was completely dead. My eyes were dark, empty pools. A flash of surprise crossed her face. She quickly dropped her bags and hurried over, sitting close to me on the sofa. She placed her pink designer briefcase on the coffee table. The Judy Hopps keychain dangling from the handle felt like a physical stab to the chest. She reached out, gently holding my hand, her voice dripping with fake concern. “What’s wrong, honey? Are you feeling sick?” I didn’t answer her. My eyes slowly, mechanically drifted down to the rabbit keychain on her bag. Noticing my gaze, she let out a flawless, airy laugh to explain it away. “Oh, a friend of mine happened to go to Disneyland while I was out there. They sent me pictures of the gift shop and asked if I wanted anything.” “So I picked out the sheep for you, and grabbed the bunny for myself.” I forced a tight, hollow smile onto my face. “Was that friend Finn?” She paused for a microscopic second, but her tone remained perfectly casual. “Haha, he told you already? I guess that makes sense. You guys are best friends, he tells you everything.” She glanced down at my phone screen and saw the photo Finn had just sent me. “Oh, look at that. He bought the fox for himself. That’s pretty cute.” Even now, backed into a corner of her own making, she was still effortlessly spinning lies. I stared directly into her eyes. This was the face I had deeply loved for five years. But in this exact moment, she looked like a completely repulsive stranger. “Did you know the fox and the bunny are a romantic couple?” I heard my own voice ask the question. Vanessa visibly stiffened, but she recovered with terrifying speed. “How would I know that? I haven’t even seen the movie. You know I don’t care about childish cartoons.” “I was swamped with meetings all week. I wasn’t paying attention to what Finn was buying.” “Honestly, he is so clueless. Why didn’t he just tell me it was a matching set?” Without missing a beat, she confidently snatched my phone from my hand and held down the voice memo button on Finn’s chat. “Finn, it’s Vanessa. Why does the keychain you bought perfectly match the one you gave me? You didn’t explain it at all, and now Declan is misunderstanding things. You better text him right now and clear this up!” 3 The screen showed the typing bubble for an agonizingly long time. Finally, a text popped up. “Oh my god, I seriously didn’t even notice! Sorry about that! Declan, you’re definitely not mad at me, right?” Vanessa handed my phone back, looking incredibly smug, as if expecting an apology from me. “There. Misunderstanding completely resolved!” “Is this why you were giving me the cold shoulder? You were jealous over a piece of plastic?” “Finn already apologized. He’s just a tragic kid with zero social awareness. Don’t be so hard on him.” Having delivered her perfect alibi, she dramatically checked her luxury watch. “I have a dinner meeting with some major clients tonight. I literally only came home to drop off my luggage and see your handsome face.” “Be a good boy. Your wife has to go make us some money.” She playfully pinched my cheek, turned on her heel, and walked right back out the door. Watching the door click shut behind her, the final lingering trace of hope in my heart turned to ash. I walked into the master bathroom, splashed freezing water on my face, and pulled out her massive suitcases. I started packing. Every single piece of clothing, every pair of shoes, every piece of jewelry that belonged to Vanessa. When the bags were full, I called a premium moving company and instructed them to deliver everything to Finn’s downtown apartment. The apartment I was currently paying the rent for. When we first got married, Vanessa’s startup was bleeding money. We were completely broke. My parents had paid the down payment on the house we currently lived in. Since she decided to step out of our marriage, she permanently lost the right to step foot in this house. As the movers were hauling the last few boxes out the door, my phone buzzed twice. It was a text from Vanessa. “Honey, the client is dragging this dinner out. It’s going to be super late. I’m just going to book a hotel room downtown so I don’t wake you up when I get back.” Ha. If I hadn’t already seen the truth with my own two eyes, I would have been deeply moved by her incredible thoughtfulness. But right now, that text was just a convenient reminder. I pulled up my burner account and searched Finn’s page. Just as I predicted, he had uploaded a brand new picture to his Close Friends story. It was a photo of Vanessa. She had kicked off her designer heels, and her nylon-clad feet were resting comfortably across Finn’s lap. The caption read: “She told her boring husband she was out with a client.” I let out a bitter scoff. I meticulously screenshotted his entire feed. I did the same for Vanessa’s hidden profile, making sure not to miss a single post or timestamp. I compiled all the screenshots into a secure folder and emailed it directly to my lawyer. “My wife is having an affair. I am filing for a contested divorce. Please send me a list of all required documentation.” The exact second Finn sent that fake apology text to Declan, he had immediately messaged Vanessa. “Vee, please come over tonight. Declan sounded so scary, I’m really freaking out.” accompanied by two pleading emojis. Reading that text, Vanessa’s heart fluttered. Declan had introduced Finn as his childhood best friend. But from the very first time she met Finn, she knew exactly what he was doing. He was practically undressing her with his eyes. Initially, she found him pathetic and beneath her notice. But Finn was incredibly skilled at playing the victim. His tragic backstory, his teary-eyed vulnerable looks, the way he would gently tug on her sleeve and softly call her “Vee.” It gave Vanessa an intoxicating rush of power. She felt worshipped. She felt like a god. It was a dynamic she could never have with Declan. So she secretly crossed the line and started sleeping with Finn. The very first time she went to his apartment, he buried his face in her chest and cried softly. “Vee, I feel so incredibly insecure. I feel like the second you walk out that door, you stop belonging to me.” Those words stroked her massive ego. Right then and there, she posted a selfie of them cuddling in bed and pinned it to the top of her profile. Obviously, she meticulously blocked Declan and every single mutual acquaintance they shared. Because she never had the slightest intention of letting Declan find out, and she certainly never intended to actually divorce him. Declan was her rock. They had built a life together. Declan was handsome, fiercely independent, and incredibly supportive. During the darkest days of her startup, Declan’s financial and emotional backing kept her afloat. Why would she ever throw away a perfect husband for a broken toy like Finn? But the kid needed constant reassurance, and she liked playing the savior. So she fabricated a client dinner and drove straight to Finn’s apartment. Of course, she wasn’t just going there to comfort him. She had something far more important to deal with. 4 She needed to remind Finn to stay in his lane. He was getting sloppy, and she couldn’t risk Declan getting suspicious. The moment she unlocked the apartment door, Finn practically threw himself at her. He helped her take off her trench coat, fetched her slippers, and linked his arm through hers to pull her toward the sofa. “Vee…” Finn barely got a word out before Vanessa coldly cut him off. “You need to be more careful.” Finn blinked in confusion. “What?” She frowned, her tone sharpening. “I said be careful. Don’t let Declan catch on. If you buy a matching plushie, keep it in your bedroom. Why the hell did you send him a picture of it?” “And all those pictures of the restaurants and the theme park? Why are you sending him a play-by-play? Are you trying to provoke him? Are you showing off?” “Finn, you need to remember your exact place in this arrangement.” Finn looked instantly devastated. He lowered his eyes, his voice trembling. “I wasn’t… I just… You and Declan are legally married. I barely get to spend any time with you. I just couldn’t help myself…” His eyes grew glassy with tears. He looked incredibly fragile and pitiful. Historically, this specific look was his ultimate weapon against her. But tonight, the memory of Declan’s cold, calculating stare back at the house was making her deeply anxious. Suddenly, Finn’s pathetic whining just felt incredibly annoying. “Enough. Where is that fox keychain? Go throw it in the trash.” Finn reluctantly obeyed, looking like a kicked puppy. Seeing his depressed slump, Vanessa finally sighed. “Get dressed. I’ll take you out to a nice dinner.” On their way to the restaurant, they drove past a massive moving truck heading the opposite direction. During dinner, Finn shamelessly tried to play footsie under the table, doing everything he could to seduce her. But Vanessa was completely distracted. She felt a lingering sense of dread. Just as she was about to tell him to stop acting like a child and eat his food, Finn’s cell phone rang. He answered it, his tone instantly shifting to arrogant annoyance. “Yeah, who is this?” “Hello, is this Mr. Finn?” “We are calling from the logistics company. We have a massive shipment of personal belongings registered to a Ms. Vanessa to drop off at your residence.” “Are you currently home to sign for it?” 5 The private dining room was dead quiet, and the caller’s voice leaked clearly through the speaker. Vanessa’s head snapped up. She stared dead at Finn. But Finn acted as if he had been anticipating this exact call. He casually replied to the dispatcher. “Just leave it all stacked in the hallway outside my door.” He hung up. Vanessa’s brow furrowed aggressively. “What belongings of mine?” Finn slid into the booth next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and softening his voice into a sweet purr. “Vee, I bought a few little surprises for you. A high-end massage chair, and a brand new memory foam mattress.” “I just wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible whenever you stay over.” Finn honestly believed this grand, thoughtful gesture would melt her heart and earn him a night of passionate rewards. Instead, Vanessa physically shoved his arm away. Her voice was ice cold. “Finn, you crossed a major line.” Finn froze, the smile dying on his face. “I warned you to remember your place.” “I do not need you buying furniture for me. Your only job is to sit quietly in your apartment and wait until I decide to call you.” “Declan literally pays your rent. He drops by your apartment sometimes. If he sees a brand new luxury mattress and a massage chair, what exactly are you going to tell him? What if he starts digging?” Her tone grew even harsher. “I am going to spend the next few weeks at home focusing on Declan. Do not contact me, and do not do anything stupid.” Finn was entirely blindsided by this reaction. He froze for a few seconds, then slowly lowered his head. His eyes turned bright red, and he practically whispered. “I understand… But Vee, can you just stay with me tonight? Just for tonight.” He knew exactly which angle made him look the most tragically beautiful. And sure enough, looking at his broken, desperate expression, Vanessa’s cold exterior finally cracked. “Fine. One last night.” After dinner, they drove back to Finn’s apartment complex. The moment the elevator doors slid open on his floor, they were greeted by an absolute mountain of stuff. It clearly wasn’t just a mattress and a massage chair. Dozens of heavy cardboard boxes and premium luggage bags were stacked meticulously from the floor to the ceiling, completely barricading Finn’s front door. Vanessa’s frown deepened into a scowl. Finn looked genuinely baffled. “This… did they deliver to the wrong floor? Let me call the company back.” For some inexplicable reason, a terrifying chill ran down Finn’s spine. He instinctively stepped away from Vanessa, ducking into the concrete stairwell to redial the number. The logistics dispatcher verified the address three separate times. “No mistake, sir. The receiver is listed as you. But the client who paid for the delivery was a Mr. Declan Reed. He gave us strict orders to leave everything at your exact door.” All the blood instantly drained from Finn’s face. … Vanessa stood alone in the hallway, leaning against the wall, impatiently waiting for Finn to return. Her eyes wandered aimlessly over the mountain of boxes. Suddenly, her gaze locked onto a piece of luggage near the bottom. A matte black Rimowa suitcase. It had a very distinct, deep scratch near the handle. She recognized that suitcase immediately. It was hers. Her heart began to hammer violently against her ribs. She pulled the heavy suitcase out of the stack, laid it flat on the carpet, and unzipped it. Inside were her expensive silk blouses and tailored skirts, folded flawlessly. Clothes that were supposed to be hanging in the walk-in closet she shared with Declan. Breathing heavily, she ripped open the tape on the nearest cardboard boxes. Her business books. Her corporate documents. Even the glass wind chimes they had bought together in Hawaii for their first wedding anniversary. The ones that were supposed to be hanging by their bedroom window. Every single thing she owned was sitting in this hallway. Vanessa’s hands began to shake uncontrollably. She sprinted down the hall and violently kicked open the heavy door to the stairwell. When Finn saw her face, he instinctively backed up against the concrete wall in pure terror. “Did you tell Declan about us?!” The elegant, composed businesswoman from dinner was completely gone. She looked like a cornered, feral animal. Finn shook his head frantically, holding his hands up in defense. “No! I swear to God I didn’t!” “I block Declan on every single post I make! You know that! You personally check my phone before I post anything!” Vanessa didn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. She violently snatched the phone out of his hand. She scrolled manically through his Instagram settings, his hidden lists, and even read through their entire private text history. There were absolutely no leaks. It was flawless.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450050”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was kept as a caged bird for ten years. Until the day I died, he never once promised me a wedding. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to ten years ago. To avoid repeating the nightmare, the very first thing I did after my rebirth was track down his future arch-nemesis. At this moment, the man was still just a broke, grease-stained mechanic. I slapped my debit card onto the table. “Marry me. After we’re married, you get my entire paycheck!” The man gritted his teeth. “For two grand a month, you’ve got a deal.” 1 I proposed to Jake Miller. At that moment, the man had a cigarette dangling from his lips. “What exactly do you see in me?” I thought about it for a long time before squeezing out, “You’re handsome?” “Heh.” His scoff made my face burn bright red. I gathered my courage and asked, “So, is that a yes?” Jake didn’t say anything. He just stared at me intently. It was as if he could see right through my little scheme. I braced myself and met his gaze, hoping he could see my sincerity. After a long silence, he smiled. With a careless, cynical drawl, he replied, “A wife delivering herself right to my door? Why wouldn’t I say yes?” And just like that, I got married. On the second day after traveling back in time. Clutching the marriage license in my pocket, a deep sense of unreality washed over me. I had actually met Jake in my past life. It was during my seventh year of being locked away by Carter Sterling. I had escaped from the mansion, completely penniless. Wandering the streets, I ran into Jake. By then, he was already a renowned, incredibly successful entrepreneur. Impeccably dressed, he carried a ruthless aura that warned strangers to stay away. I begged him to save me. Jake helped arrange a safe house for me and provided a plane ticket out of the country. But eventually, Carter still found me. Unwilling to dwell on those dark memories, I looked up at Jake and asked, “Where to next?” “Taking you home.” I blinked, surprised. “Didn’t we… just get married?” “So?” “So, weren’t you planning to… take me to our home?” 2 Jake lived in a half-finished apartment complex. The roof hadn’t even been fully sealed yet. The place was swarming with construction workers coming and going. “I used to do day labor here and got to know the site manager. Until the building is officially handed over, I’m crashing here to save on rent,” Jake explained voluntarily, probably noticing the confusion in my eyes. The apartment was raw, bare-concrete industrial style. Aside from a canvas camp cot, it was completely empty. The bathroom didn’t even have a flushing toilet, and the shower was just a single cold-water spigot protruding from the wall. Jake looked at me. “Regretting it? It’s not too late to run.” “I don’t regret it.” I set my suitcase to the side. “Are we both sleeping on this tonight? The bed seems a little small.” Jake narrowed his eyes. “It’s big enough.” When night fell, I lay on Jake’s camp cot. The man had casually laid out a couple of newspapers and lay down on the hard concrete floor. There were no curtains, and the bright moonlight poured right through the glass. “Jake, are you asleep?” “Yeah.” Worried he’d catch a cold sleeping on the concrete, I scooted over to one edge of the cot. “Do you want to come up and sleep here?” The bed was narrow, but if we squeezed, we could make it work. A few seconds passed before Jake replied, “If I go up there, you can forget about sleeping.” I gripped my blanket tighter. “I don’t mind.” The moment the words left my mouth, Jake lunged onto the cot and hovered over me like a beast granted permission. Caught off guard, I instinctively turned my head away. The weight above me lifted slightly. In the moonlight, I saw a trace of mockery on Jake’s face. “If you can’t go through with it, don’t play games. I’m a simple guy; I tend to take things seriously.” Saying that, he moved to get back down onto his newspapers. Realizing his intention, I grabbed the hem of his shirt. My fingers slipped through the fabric, brushing against his skin. Jake shuddered, a dark, complex emotion flashing in his eyes as he looked down at me. I bit my lip hard. “I really am willing.” Terrified he would say no, my hand recklessly traced a line across his stomach. Jake’s eyes darkened instantly. “You’re out of chances to back out now.” Unlike the gym-sculpted muscles Carter used to flaunt. Jake’s body was naturally tanned from years of manual labor. His core was rock-solid, his entire frame radiating raw power. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. He only stopped when I was sobbing and trembling. He roughly kissed away my tears and muttered, “So delicate.” His tone sounded almost dissatisfied. My whole body was aching terribly, and instead of comforting me, he had scolded me for no reason. I got upset, turning on my side and refusing to look at him. The man didn’t try to coax me. He got out of bed and walked off somewhere. Clutching the blanket, the more I thought about it, the more wronged I felt. In my past life, I was kept as Carter’s caged bird for ten years. It was only through death that I finally found freedom. I thought heaven had taken pity on me by giving me a second chance. I hadn’t expected Jake to act like a completely different person. Just as I was crying, a hot towel was suddenly pressed against my face. I didn’t know when Jake had returned, but he was holding a plastic basin and a steaming towel. “Crying?” I refused to admit it. “No.” Jake clumsily wiped my face, then turned to wring out the towel. “What are you doing?” “There’s no hot water here, so you can’t shower. A wipe-down will make you feel better.” My skin did feel sticky and uncomfortable. Forgetting my anger, I blushed and tried to grab the towel. “I can do it myself.” “Stay put.” Ignoring my protests, Jake pulled back the blanket and applied the hot towel. A moment later, I heard his voice. “Stop being mad. I’ll go easier next time, alright?” His voice carried a hint of awkwardness. The heat rushed to my cheeks, and the corners of my mouth curled up. I pulled the blanket up to hide my face. 3 When I woke up the next morning, Jake was already fully dressed. Two breakfast buns sat on a low, makeshift table. I had no idea when he had gone out to buy them. “I boiled some water. Finish washing up, and I’ll drop you off at work.” “It’s fine, I can go by myself.” Jake shot me a look. “There are a lot of construction workers around here. It’s not safe for a little girl like you to walk alone.” Then he added, “Call me when you get off work tonight. I’ll pick you up.” As I sluggishly washed up, I finally noticed the debit card sitting on the table. It was the same one I had given Jake when I proposed yesterday. “You forgot your card.” Jake barely glanced at it. “Keep it. I haven’t sunk so low that I need to live off a woman’s money.” Liar. He was clearly broke. Since he didn’t want it, I didn’t argue. I mentally calculated that maybe I could use the savings to rent us a better apartment. Or, if Jake refused to move, at least buy a real bed. Even though I didn’t have the “golden cage” from my past life, looking at Jake made me feel an inexplicable sense of security. That good mood lasted all the way to work. As soon as I walked into the teachers’ office, Lily Evans strutted over, looking secretive. “Maya, I’ve got great news for you!” She lowered her voice. “My cousin has his eye on you.” Me: ? She pulled me aside conspiratorially. “My cousin isn’t just anybody. He’s incredibly handsome, has a great personality, and graduated from Harvard. His dad is literally a billionaire. So many rich heiresses throw themselves at him, and he doesn’t bat an eye. But yesterday, he suddenly asked me to set up a blind date with you.” Lily’s eyes sparkled. “Girl, your golden ticket has arrived!” Harvard grad. Billionaire father. A name instantly exploded in my mind. My face drained of color. Controlling my expression, I used the most polite tone I could muster to decline. “You might have to apologize to your cousin for me. I don’t have that kind of luck. I’m already married.” Lily didn’t believe me. “We’ve been coworkers for a year. You’ve never even had a boyfriend. How could you suddenly be married?” “It’s true. We got the license, just haven’t had the ceremony yet. I’ll send you an invitation when we do.” I forced a smile. “I have two classes back-to-back right now. I need to head to the classroom.” With that, I quickly walked away. It wasn’t until I stepped out of the office that all the strength seemed to leave my body. Carter Sterling. In my past life, he definitely hadn’t appeared this early. Why was he showing up so far in advance? And how did he know Lily and I taught at the same elementary school? My hands and feet turned ice cold. I comforted myself with the thought that in this life, I was already married. I already had Jake. I would absolutely never repeat the same mistakes. 4 Carter’s premature appearance definitely threw off my mood. I was distracted all day. My right eyelid wouldn’t stop twitching. I had a sinking feeling something was about to happen. Sure enough, the moment I walked out of the school gates after work, I saw a black SUV parked right in front. The logo was flashy and arrogant. Spotting me, the man stepped out of the vehicle, holding a massive bouquet of roses. “Miss Brooks.” He called out to me, introducing himself with a polished smile. “Forgive the intrusion. I’m Carter Sterling, Lily’s cousin.” The sidewalk was crowded with students heading home and parents picking up their kids. Carter’s bouquet of roses was glaringly conspicuous. Some people recognized me and started clapping, cheering for me to say yes. My face turned pale. “What do you want?” “Don’t be nervous. I just wanted to get to know you,” Carter said, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I happened to see you while waiting for Lily a while back, and I felt a very strong connection. I know I showed up uninvited today. Don’t feel pressured; just treat it as making a new friend.” Even though Carter was playing the part perfectly, I could still sense the crazy, obsessive gleam in his eyes. In my moment of helplessness, I suddenly spotted Jake in the corner. He was straddling a beat-up motorcycle, a cigarette hanging from his lips, watching me with a sideways glance. He looked entirely unbothered, as if none of this had anything to do with him. Like a drowning person spotting driftwood, I sprinted straight toward him. The familiar scent of motor oil on Jake instantly grounded me. I turned back to Carter. “I explained this to Lily earlier. I’m married.” Carter clearly hadn’t expected me to be married. The smile froze on his face. His gaze drifted to Jake, and a flash of pure hatred crossed his eyes. Even though he masked it instantly, my sharp senses caught it. But… hatred? This was supposed to be his very first time meeting Jake. Why would there be hatred? Carter recovered his expression quickly, smoothing out his emotions. “That was presumptuous of me. I should have asked about Miss Brooks’s relationship status first. Since I already bought the flowers, I won’t take them back. Let me just wish you a happy marriage.” He held the bouquet out toward me. “Fresh flowers for a beautiful woman. I’m sure your husband won’t mind.” Before I could speak, Jake suddenly laughed. “Who says I don’t mind?” He stared Carter down. “I’m a petty guy. I can’t stand seeing my gorgeous wife accepting things from other men.” With that, Jake grabbed a small pink helmet and slapped it onto my head. “Put it on.” Looking at the brand-new helmet, my mood inexplicably lifted. I couldn’t help but ask, “Did you buy this just for me?” “Fished it out of a dumpster.” I grinned. “Well, next time can you fish out a blue one? I like blue.” Jake raised an eyebrow and made a move to snatch the helmet back. I hurriedly strapped it on tight, knocking on the hard shell twice with my knuckles. “Does it look good?” A hint of amusement danced in Jake’s eyes. He reached out and snapped the visor down over my face. Then he muttered, “Idiot.” When I looked back, Carter was already gone. Thanks to today’s spectacle, everyone knew my husband was a grease monkey at a repair shop. During recess, I overheard a few teachers gossiping. “So what if she’s pretty? She still ended up with a guy like that.” “You guys didn’t see it, but his motorcycle was a total wreck. Sounded like a damn tractor.” The group burst into laughter. Seeing me walk in, one of them purposely asked, “Maya, where does your hubby fix cars? My husband just bought a Mercedes; we’ll have him do the maintenance from now on to throw some business his way.” “Sure, I’ll text you the address later.” Lily couldn’t stand it anymore and dragged me out of the office. “Are you missing a piece of your brain? They’re openly mocking you, and you don’t even talk back?” “You’re pretty, you have a solid career, how could you settle for…” Lily paused, then continued, “I’m a straight shooter, so don’t get mad. You’re just fresh out of college and naive. You think love conquers all, but when reality hits, you’re going to regret it. Seriously, think about my cousin. He said he doesn’t even mind that you’re technically a divorcee now…” “Lily, that’s a nice bag.” I cut her off, my eyes landing on the Hermès Birkin on her desk. “New?” Lily froze, her face flushing red. “Yeah.” Lily was living on a teacher’s salary. It was glaringly obvious who gave her the bag, and why. I didn’t press the issue. “My husband and I are doing great. How we live our lives is our business. Don’t talk badly about him again. I don’t want to hear it.” 5 When I got off work that day, Jake didn’t show up on his motorcycle. “Where’s your bike?” “Sold it.” Jake didn’t offer any further explanation. The corners of his mouth curled up. “Let’s go.” Jake pulled me along by the hand, but we walked in a different direction than usual. I had no idea what he was up to until we stopped at an apartment complex just a few blocks from my school. “Third floor. Let’s go take a look.” A faint suspicion began to form in my heart. But I didn’t dare believe it. I slowly walked up to the third floor. The door to the middle unit was wide open. Stepping inside, I found a cozy one-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t huge, but it was decorated incredibly warmly. The curtains were the color of the sky, fluttering slightly in the breeze. The setting sun spilled through the windows, bathing the entire room in a golden glow. He actually remembered that I liked blue. I couldn’t describe the feeling. Living across two lifetimes, I had stayed in luxurious mansions and rundown, raw concrete husks. But only in this exact moment did my heart feel completely swollen with happiness. “You sold your motorcycle to rent this place?” Because it was in a good school district, the buildings here were older but the rent was sky-high. Jake’s savings wouldn’t have been enough to cover the standard first month’s rent plus a security deposit. Jake ignored the comment about the motorcycle, simply saying, “It’s close to your school, so your commute is easier. Plus, the other place didn’t have hot water. You’re too delicate to handle that.” Before he even finished speaking, I turned and threw my arms around his waist. Jake was entirely stunned by my sudden leap into his arms. He froze for a moment, then slowly wrapped his arms around my back. “Alright, it’s not time for you to cry yet. Save the crying for tonight, yeah?” So inappropriate! That night, Jake successfully made me cry. The man pulled me into his arms, thoroughly satisfied, and kissed the corner of my mouth. “My wife was right. A double bed really is way better than a single cot. We should have moved sooner.” I-I never said that! I held back my temper, resisting the urge to kick him off the bed. The next day was the weekend. Jake and I had planned to go to the unfinished building to grab the last of my things. By afternoon, Jake still hadn’t come home. “I probably won’t have time today. Something came up at the shop.” Jake called me midway through the day. I didn’t think much of it. “I’ll just go by myself, then.” It wasn’t a lot of stuff anyway, just a single suitcase. It sounded chaotic on Jake’s end, and the call disconnected before I could hear his response. Previously, Jake never let me go to that building alone. Mostly because there were too many construction workers around, and he felt it was unsafe. But it was broad daylight, and I was just grabbing a bag. What could go wrong? I didn’t expect that the moment I walked into the room, three or four workers would follow me inside. “You living here all by yourself, miss?” My heart dropped. “Who are you? Get out.” “We work here. Why should we get out?” The one leading them laughed. “We’ve been watching you and that guy play house in here. You guys get pretty wild. Why don’t you play with us for a bit?” The room was completely empty. I couldn’t even find anything to use as a weapon. Gritting my teeth, I turned and made a mad dash for the door. The man reacted fast, grabbing me by the hair and throwing me to the ground. “Little girl’s got a great body. I’ve been craving you for a while. Today’s my lucky day.” Saying that, he lunged down on top of me. I fought back frantically, screaming at the top of my lungs. Just as his hands were about to tear at my clothes, the door was suddenly kicked open. The man pinning me down was punched and sent flying to the floor. The other two workers immediately moved to jump in. “I’m the developer of this property. Are you absolutely sure you want to lay a hand on me?” The three men exchanged nervous glances, seeming to weigh the truth of his words. A moment later, they cursed and ran off. Carter Sterling took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders, turning to his assistant. “Find those men. Handle them however you see fit.” The assistant nodded and walked away. Only then did Carter look down at me. “Remember me?” My knuckles turned white as I clutched the jacket. “No, I don’t.” I shoved the jacket back into his chest and grabbed my suitcase. “Thank you for your help today.” As I walked past him, Carter suddenly grabbed my wrist. “You seem terrified of me.” “We don’t know each other. Why would I be terrified?” “Fair point.” Carter let go of me. “What about you? What are you doing here? If I remember correctly, this complex isn’t finished yet.” “None of your business.” “True, but I developed this land.” Carter stared at me intently. “Squatting is illegal. What do you say I sue Jake for trespassing?” “What exactly do you want?” “I want you.” Carter made absolutely no effort to hide his intentions. “Maya, I told you from the very beginning. I want you.” “And I told you, I’m married.” “That doesn’t matter to me.” I pressed my lips into a tight line. He leaned in so we were at eye level. “That man can’t give you the life you deserve. You’re a pearl, and you shouldn’t be gathering dust in his hands. You can either watch your man rot in a prison cell, or you can come live like royalty with me. It’s your choice.” I gripped my suitcase tightly, turned my head, and walked out the door. This time, Carter didn’t try to stop me.

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1 At three in the morning, my husband texted me. [Where are you?] I was sitting in the observation room of the abortion clinic, utterly exhausted from the pain. I typed back: [I’ll tell you when I get home.] When I finally walked through the door, he was sitting at his computer, editing a vlog from a recent party. “I aborted the baby,” I said. “I’m being transferred overseas the day after tomorrow. Take tomorrow off, and let’s go to the courthouse to finalize the divorce.” He didn’t look up from the screen, just muttering his usual absent-minded “uh-huh.” I knew it. He had turned his hearing aids off again. For six years, I had excitedly shared the little details of my day with him. I had enthusiastically planned our future together. Over the years, I must have sung at least three hundred love songs to him. In the end, not a single note ever made it to his ears. I was genuinely so tired. I walked up behind him and flicked the switch on his hearing aid. He frowned instantly and snapped before I could speak, “What are you doing?” “The battery on my hearing aids is running low, and I left my charger at the office.” “I’m taking tomorrow off to go with Chloe to hear her sing at karaoke. Don’t waste my battery.” I nodded slowly and reached over, turning his hearing aid back off. Then let’s part in silence. … Allen suddenly flicked his hearing aid back on. “Whatever. I’ll just swing by the office and grab the charger tomorrow morning.” “What were you trying to say?” I didn’t answer. I walked over to the sofa, sat down, and took out the painkillers the doctor had prescribed. I swallowed them dry with a sip of cold water. Only then did Allen look away from his monitor and glance over at me. “Why are you taking pills?” “Vitamins,” I replied. He nodded, accepting the lie immediately. “Did the doctor say anything else? I would’ve gone with you today if I wasn’t so busy.” It was always the same excuse. Allen’s promises meant absolutely nothing to me anymore. Like during his last vacation. He promised to take me to the beach. I had bought the plane tickets and planned the entire itinerary. But at the last minute, Chloe claimed some creep was following her home from work. Allen threw a stack of cash at me to shut me up, and spent his entire month off acting as Chloe’s personal bodyguard, driving her to and from work every single day. I could let go of something trivial like a canceled vacation. But he also consistently bailed on my birthdays and our anniversaries. Every single time I asked, it was always because Chloe had some “emergency.” He never took the things I said seriously. He barely even listened. But whatever bizarre, dramatic excuse Chloe came up with, he treated it like an absolute royal decree. I never understood it. We were all adults; how could he lack such basic judgment? It wasn’t until much later that I finally realized—it had nothing to do with whether he believed her or not. It was entirely about who he loved. When a man loves a woman, even if she points at the sky and calls it the ground, even if she calls red green, he will find a way to justify her delusions as absolute truth. “Whatever. Let’s just go to sleep,” I said softly. “At your last physical, the doctor said your thyroid nodules were getting bigger. You need to stop staying up so late…” Before I could even finish my sentence, Allen reached up and switched his hearing aid off. He waved me away dismissively, signaling me to leave him alone. I suddenly let out a dry, bitter laugh. I was laughing at my own pathetic reflexes. Even after all these years, my first instinct was still to care about him. I walked back to the master bedroom and locked the door behind me. By the time I finished filling out my overseas transfer paperwork, it was already 6:00 AM. The sky was turning gray. The sound of his keyboard clacking in the living room had been replaced by the sound of a voice call. Even through the phone speaker and a solid wooden door, I could clearly hear Chloe’s obnoxiously loud voice. And Allen was patiently listening as she planned out their entire itinerary for the day. I buried my head under the heavy duvet and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. 2 I had originally gone to the hospital yesterday for a prenatal checkup. When I woke up and saw the dark, torrential clouds outside the window, I turned to Allen, who was sitting on the edge of the bed scrolling on his phone. “Looks like a massive storm is coming. Can you drive me to the hospital?” I waited. Silence. I assumed he had turned off his hearing aids again. But when I looked closer, the tiny green indicator light was on. He was just so completely absorbed in his texts that he completely ignored me. I snatched the phone out of his hands. On the screen was a chat with a contact he saved as [Princess Chloe]. She was begging him to come to her pajama party tonight. Knowing that Allen absolutely despised loud, chaotic environments, I typed a reply for him: [Not going.] Allen panicked, lunging forward to snatch the phone back. He frantically tapped the screen to unsend the message. “I asked you to drive me to the hospital for my prenatal checkup,” I stated clearly. “When?” he asked without looking up. “This afternoon.” He kept typing furiously on his phone, ignoring me again. Just as my anger began to boil over, Allen suddenly laughed out loud. He shoved his phone screen in my face. “Chloe said she invited a bunch of old college friends over to her place for lunch. Let’s go hang out.” “I’ll take you to the hospital after we eat.” But at the lunch table, Chloe coaxed Allen into taking shots. The group kept passing bottles, laughing and drinking heavily. I felt sick watching them. I barely touched my food before standing up and saying I needed to get to the hospital. “Just reschedule the checkup,” Allen slurred slightly. “I’ll go with you in a few days.” He had absolutely no idea that specialist appointments had to be booked weeks in advance. “No,” I said firmly. Allen pulled out his phone to call me an Uber. “Don’t bother,” I rejected him flatly. He just nodded and told me to be careful on the way. Not a single person at that table offered to walk me to the door, let alone to the front gate of the complex. I walked out with an umbrella, but the sideways rain soaked my pants up to the knees. I wandered aimlessly around the massive apartment complex for ages before I finally found the exit. And of course, disaster always strikes in pairs. Traffic was gridlocked because of the storm. By the time I arrived, I had missed my slot and was pushed to the very last appointment of the day. Right next to the maternity clinic, the abortion waiting room was eerily empty. I ended up sitting there instead, staring blankly up at the glowing sign reading [Pregnancy Termination Clinic], lost in my own thoughts. Before I knew it, the sun had set. Usually, if I was out this late, Allen would have called to check on me. Today, there was dead silence. I thought maybe my phone was acting up. But when I unlocked it, I saw that Allen had just posted a new story on Instagram. He was at Chloe’s pajama party. I zoomed in on the photo. His platinum wedding band was missing from his left hand. I called his number. Chloe answered. She sounded incredibly annoyed, telling me I was being annoying and ruining their vibe by constantly checking up on him. I only asked one question: “Where is Allen’s wedding ring?” “Oh, he let me try it on earlier,” she paused casually. “It probably fell in between the couch cushions. I don’t know, we’ll look for it after the party.” The line went dead. Down the hall, the nurse finally called my name. “Evelyn? Is Evelyn here?” “Patient Evelyn, please come to exam room 3.” I took two steps forward, then stopped dead in my tracks. I turned around and walked up to the reception desk of the abortion clinic. “Do I need an appointment for a termination?” “No, walk-ins are accepted today.” “Okay. Please schedule me.” 3 A burst of giggling startled me awake. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. It was only 7:30 AM. My head was pounding aggressively from lack of sleep. I blindly reached into the nightstand drawer for my migraine pills. Empty. I had reminded Allen at least five times to pick up a refill, and he still completely forgot. It took me several minutes to gather the strength to sit up and open the bedroom door. Allen was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Chloe was standing right beside him, acting as his sous-chef. “Go pour your sister-in-law a glass of warm water,” he told her affectionately. Chloe confidently opened the overhead cabinet. From a dozen different mugs, she flawlessly selected mine. She filled it and brought it over to me. “How did you know which mug is mine?” I asked. She turned around, heading back to the cabinets, digging through them as she answered, “Because I come over all the time.” “Whenever you go on business trips, I come over to hang out with Allen.” Chloe then pulled down Allen’s favorite mug. She stood on her tiptoes, looking confused. “Allen, where did you put my mug?” Allen pointed a spatula toward the UV sanitizer on the counter. “In there.” “I told you to stop tossing it in the sink when you’re done. You have to wash it and let it dry before putting it back in the cabinet.” “Otherwise, I have to run the sanitizer cycle every single time you leave it out.” Chloe grabbed her little cartoon mug, waltzed over to Allen, and affectionately rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “I’m too lazy for that.” “I’ll just leave all the washing to you!” Allen playfully raised the spatula as if to bop her on the head. “You’re going to die of laziness one day!” They were so incredibly comfortable around each other. Like a real family. I stood there gripping my glass of water, feeling the warmth slowly seep out through the glass until it was ice cold against my palms. I had never seen this side of Allen before. When it was just us, he barely spoke. At dinner, I usually scrolled on my phone while he read articles on his tablet. Then we would wash up and go to our separate jobs. “Do you want a fried egg or hard-boiled?” Allen called out to me, holding a small frying pan. Chloe immediately plopped down in the chair next to me and excitedly raised her hand. “Chef Allen! I want both!” “Eggs are my absolute favorite!” Allen smiled warmly and slid the breakfast into her designated bowl. Then he finally looked back at me—the woman who had spoken exactly one sentence all morning. “What about you?” I pressed my lips together, my fingers lightly tracing the faint, red splotches still lingering on my forearm. It had barely been two weeks since my last severe allergic reaction. “I am deathly allergic to egg protein.” “Did you seriously forget?” 4 Allen completely froze. A flash of intense guilt crossed his face. He quickly scraped the remaining eggs in the pan into his own bowl. “I’ll make you something else right now…” “Don’t waste your time,” I cut him off smoothly. “Weren’t you in a huge rush to get to the office and grab your charger?” “You two take your time eating. Have fun today.” After I said that, Allen didn’t dare sit down. He stood there awkwardly holding the frying pan, unsure if he should put it down or retreat back into the kitchen. He kept covertly watching my face for a reaction. I flashed him an empty smile. “Is something wrong?” “No. Nothing.” Allen picked at his food, entirely distracted. Because if this had happened a year ago, I would have exploded on him. If he tried to run away from the argument, I would have chased him all the way to his office. One time, he got so frustrated he actually called me a “hysterical bitch.” My tears instantly spilled over. I grabbed him by the collar and screamed: “How is any of this my fault?” I screamed at him until I was hyperventilating, completely stripping myself of any dignity. When I finally looked up, panting, I saw Allen staring at me with a completely blank, bored expression. He had turned off his hearing aids ages ago. His dead-eyed calmness made me look like an absolute lunatic. But even if he couldn’t hear the desperation in my voice, couldn’t he see the massive tears streaming down my face? Huge drops of water hitting the floor right between us. Why couldn’t a single drop touch his heart? Why didn’t he feel even an ounce of pity for me? After that day, I never picked a fight with Allen again. I slowly figured it out. I slowly accepted the reality of my marriage. And slowly, I stopped loving him so much. After breakfast, Allen went back into the bedroom to change. A few minutes later, he walked out wearing a crisp dress shirt. “Honey, where are my ties?” I gestured vaguely toward the balcony. “There’s a whole pile out there. Pick whichever one you want.” He stood completely still in front of me. I finally looked up from my phone. “What now?” “My tie,” he muttered, looking uncomfortable. “Are you… are you not going to tie it for me?” “You have two fully functioning hands,” I replied flatly. “Right.” Allen was entirely dependent on me picking out his outfits, matching his ties, and even selecting his cufflinks every single morning. I always made sure his attire perfectly suited whatever meetings he had that day. I was naturally a very low-maintenance, casual person. But marrying him had forced me to become hyper-organized and domestic. Color-coordinating his silk ties, hand-steaming every single dress shirt, constantly updating his wardrobe to keep him looking sharp and modern. “I can’t get the knot right,” he whined, fumbling helplessly with the silk fabric. “Just help me.” I sighed, stood up, and took the tie from his hands. After expertly looping the knot, I suddenly yanked the fabric straight up, nearly choking him. “Allen, you really need to stop relying on me so much.” “What are you going to do when I leave you?” 5 Allen didn’t take my words seriously at all. He gently shoved my shoulder and waved at Chloe. “Let’s roll.” “I’m coming with you,” I said. I needed to swing by the pharmacy to buy my migraine medication anyway. Both of them turned to look at me—one with intense annoyance, the other with deep frustration. “Relax. I’m not going to crash your little date.” I opened the shoe cabinet. Sitting right dead center on the top shelf was a brand-new pair of fluffy, cartoon slippers. Winter was still months away, but Allen had already made sure Chloe’s feet would be warm when she came over. I pulled my eyes away from the slippers, grabbed my own sneakers, and put them on. “I’m getting dropped off halfway. Let’s go.” Allen and Chloe walked side-by-side to the garage, laughing and joking the entire way. They were gossiping about the pajama party—who chose a crazy dare, who got blackout drunk and embarrassed themselves. When we reached his SUV, Chloe naturally pulled open the passenger door and climbed right in. She immediately reclined the seat, draped a plush little blanket over her lap, and then dug through the glove compartment. She violently shoved my expensive lipsticks and sunscreen out of the way just to find her cheap little compact mirror. Allen gave me an incredibly awkward look and muttered, “Maybe you could…” “I’ll sit in the back,” I offered before he could finish. He audibly sighed in relief. The SUV cruised smoothly down the avenue. Allen’s left hand rested on the steering wheel, his ring finger still totally bare. “Did you ever find your ring?” I asked out of nowhere. The car noticeably swerved for a split second. Allen didn’t say a word. Chloe was completely engrossed in watching the vlog Allen had edited for her last night. When she reached a funny part, she let out an ear-piercing shriek. “Oh my god!” When high-pitched sounds hit Allen’s hearing aids, the feedback loop would trigger an agonizing, screeching pop right in his ear. It caused him severe physical pain. That was why Allen absolutely hated loud noises. Even when I spoke to him, I had to carefully modulate my volume to make sure I didn’t cross his pain threshold. But Chloe was literally shrieking at the top of her lungs inches from his face, and his expression didn’t even flicker. Only his knuckles gripping the steering wheel turned pure white. “Allen, you are an absolute genius!” “I literally love you so much!!” Allen smiled softly. “I’m glad you like it.” With their loud, obnoxious banter, my question was completely buried and forgotten. Whatever. It really didn’t matter. It was just a piece of metal. I was about to throw mine in the trash anyway. 6 After picking up my prescription, I asked the pharmacist a few quick questions about managing chronic migraines. By the time I walked out the sliding glass doors, it had started to rain again, and the sky looked like it was about to absolutely dump on the city. I stood under the pharmacy awning, hoping to wait it out and catch a cab home. But the downpour started at 10:00 AM and didn’t let up until 10:00 PM. The city’s ancient drainage system completely collapsed under the deluge. The cabs stopped running, and the buses were completely grounded. The floodwaters on the streets kept rising until it reached halfway up my calves. My skirt was completely soaked through. The freezing water chilled my abdomen, and the fresh surgical wounds from my abortion started throbbing violently. I pulled out my phone and texted Allen: [Where are you? Can you please come pick me up?] [The flooding is getting really dangerous.] The messages went completely unanswered. I started calling him. I called him nearly twenty times. He didn’t pick up a single one. Gritting my teeth against the searing cramps, I finally stepped off the curb into the filthy, freezing floodwater and started the long walk home. Suddenly, my foot slipped off the edge of a dislodged manhole cover. Splash— Foul, freezing sewage instantly swallowed me over my head. I thrashed wildly in the dark water, fighting to break the surface. Out of nowhere, a strong hand clamped onto my jacket and brutally hauled me up onto the pavement. If it wasn’t for her, I legitimately would have drowned in an open sewer. The young woman dragged me onto her emergency inflatable raft. “Where do you live? I’ll take you home.” By the time I finally reached my apartment, it was pitch black outside. Fighting through a splitting migraine and agonizing abdominal cramps, I stood under the scalding water in the shower. The second I stepped out, my legs gave way, and I collapsed onto the bathroom rug, completely blacking out. When I finally regained consciousness, the clock read 2:00 AM. The rain had stopped, but two bright, obnoxious voices echoed down the hallway. “I literally carried you on my back for three blocks. You are trying to kill me.” “Get down.” Chloe giggled flirtatiously. “No! I don’t wanna!” “I want you to carry me. I want you to carry me forever!” The front door clicked open, and the hallway lights flipped on. Allen kicked off his ruined leather shoes. His slacks were rolled up past his knees, but they were still completely soaked in muddy water. Chloe, on the other hand, was perfectly dry and spotless. They moved into the bathroom with sickening intimacy, sharing the same hand towel to wipe their faces. Neither of them even glanced toward the dark living room where I was sitting. “It’s getting chilly in here. Are you cold?” Allen anxiously pulled her toward the light to inspect her clothes. “Wait here, I’ll go find you something warm to wear.” He walked straight into the master bedroom and came out carrying an armful of my expensive silk nightgowns. “These belong to your sister-in-law. Pick whichever one you like.” I absolutely despised people touching my personal belongings. Allen knew this better than anyone on earth. Chloe immediately snatched up the ruby-red silk slip. “I want this one!” That dress was my anniversary gift from Allen. I hadn’t even brought myself to wear it yet, and he just casually handed it over to another woman to sleep in. “Tonight was absolutely legendary!” Chloe was bouncing around the living room like a hyperactive child. Watching her, I couldn’t help but see a mirror image of the girl I used to be. Except the response she got was entirely different. Allen looked at her with pure, unfiltered adoration, hanging onto her every single word as if missing a syllable would be a tragedy. “Can you two please shut the hell up?” I finally spoke, shattering their little bubble. They both completely froze. After a suffocating silence, Allen quickly launched into an excuse. He claimed Chloe’s apartment building was in a low-elevation zone and prone to flooding, so he brought her here to keep her safe. I didn’t say a single word back. I just stood up and walked straight into the guest bedroom, locking the door behind me. That night, sleep was completely impossible. Through the thin walls, I could hear them whispering and laughing together in the living room. All night long. The next morning, Allen and Chloe ate breakfast together and walked to the front door together. “Honey, I’m going to drop Chloe off at her place first.” “I’ll swing back around and take you to work.” “Just wait for me.” I was absolutely never going to wait for Allen again. I packed a single suitcase. I pulled out the divorce papers I had printed months ago but never had the courage to sign, and finally scrawled my name across the bottom line. I left the documents sitting directly on top of the dining table, right next to the hospital discharge papers from my abortion. He would see them the second he walked back through the door. I took a cab straight to the international terminal, breezed through security, and boarded my flight. The overhead intercom politely requested all passengers switch their devices to airplane mode or power them off completely. I pulled my phone out of my purse and pressed the power button. But right before the screen went black, an absolute avalanche of notifications exploded onto the screen.

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My wife’s “one that got away” sent me an explosive video. In the frame, they were wrapped in a passionate embrace, their temples pressed together, whispering intimately. With tears in their eyes, they confessed how desperately they had missed each other. At the end of the video, her first love arrogantly showed off to me. “Ethan, you really are useless. After all these years, you still couldn’t make Chloe fall in love with you.” Later, I chose to divorce her, stepping aside so they could be together. But Chloe just laughed out of pure anger, a sharp hint of mockery resting in the corners of her eyes. “Ethan, what makes you think you have the right to bring up divorce?” “You’re nothing but a pathetic loser whose own parents didn’t even want him.” I stared at her in absolute disbelief. It turns out that when someone no longer wants to love you, they will ruthlessly plunge the knife into your deepest wounds without a second thought. 1 In the dead of night, the jarring ring of my phone jolted me awake. Rubbing my throbbing temples, I forced myself to sit up and answer the call. “Ethan, your wife is here keeping me company.” The voice on the other end was unfamiliar yet unmistakable—Carter Pierce. It instantly shattered whatever exhaustion I had left. Without thinking, I blurted out: “What are you talking about?” As I spoke, my hand reached out to feel the space beside me in bed. It was completely empty! Chloe Sterling really wasn’t here! Carter’s voice floated through the speaker again. “Chloe came to my welcome-home party. Why didn’t you come?” “Don’t tell me she sneaked out without telling you.” His words made the hand gripping my phone tremble. A fine, needle-like pain began to spread across my chest. Carter was right. Chloe hadn’t told me a thing. Just a few hours ago, she had been curled up in my arms, acting sweet and affectionate. But the moment I fell asleep, she turned around and ran straight to the childhood sweetheart she had been pining for. Carter let out a light cough, his voice laced with amusement: “How about I send you the address? You can come down and see for yourself if Chloe is with me.” After hanging up, Carter texted me the location. Right below it was a video clip. In the video, Chloe and Carter were holding each other tight, faces pressed close, pouring out how much they had missed one another. With the volume turned all the way up, I could clearly hear Chloe’s soft, desperate murmur: “Carter, I missed you so much.” Another voice message from Carter popped up. “Sorry, Ethan. Chloe said she just couldn’t handle how much she missed me.” “But man, you really are useless. After all these years, you still couldn’t make Chloe fall in love with you.” My heart violently shuddered. I could perfectly picture his arrogant, triumphant smile. So certain. So incredibly confident. I slowly closed my eyes, suppressing my breathing, my eyes burning with unshed tears. Carter was right. I was useless. After all these years, I still couldn’t find a way into Chloe’s heart. 2 I followed the address Carter gave me to an upscale lounge in the city. The lights were blinding, the atmosphere dripping with extravagance. In the dead center of the room sat Chloe and Carter, surrounded by people treating them like royalty. Everyone was cheering them on: “Carter is finally back! You have no idea how long Chloe has been waiting for you.” I scanned the room. These were all Chloe’s closest friends—the ones who had always despised me. All for Carter’s sake. They had mocked me, openly and secretly, countless times. Now, facing Carter, they were radiating blatant warmth and approval. Swallowing the bitter taste in my throat, I pulled out my phone and called Chloe. When her screen lit up, she glanced at it and rejected my call without a second of hesitation. Then, she sent me a text: “Something came up at work. Go to sleep without me.” I stared intently at Chloe from a distance. Her face was completely relaxed as she typed that message. There wasn’t a single flicker of guilt or panic. It really was. Almost laughable. 3 “Chloe, I heard you got married.” Carter’s words snapped me out of my thoughts. He leaned his body slightly toward Chloe, his posture undeniably intimate. Chloe bit her lower lip, hesitating for a moment. Carter’s expression immediately darkened. Seeing this, the friends around them quickly jumped in to defend her: “Don’t be mad, Carter. Chloe only ever had you in her heart.” “Yeah, you can’t blame Chloe. It was that charity case who wouldn’t stop pestering her.” Charity case? So this was how Chloe allowed them to talk about me. Carter let out a scoff, his tone dripping with disdain: “Who is this guy? Does he have zero self-respect?” “Did he only marry Chloe for her money?” Chloe seized the opportunity to cut them off, interrupting the conversation: “Alright, enough. Let’s not talk about him. It kills the mood.” Kills the mood? I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. It turns out that throwing your whole heart at someone doesn’t guarantee the clouds will part to reveal the moon. Back in the day, before I even had the chance to confess my feelings to her. She had already gotten together with Carter. Their romance was loud and highly publicized. For a time, they were the golden couple everyone envied. But the good times didn’t last. In our second year after graduation, the Sterling family’s investments collapsed. They were on the brink of bankruptcy. Unwilling to suffer through poverty with her, Carter ruthlessly abandoned her and moved abroad. I was the one who stayed by her side, encouraging her. I even emptied my entire life savings to invest in the Sterling family’s failing projects. I abandoned my dream of becoming a photographer and accompanied her to endless corporate dinners and networking events. To protect her from the sleazy investors, I drank myself into a stupor at every single dinner. It ended with me suffering severe stomach hemorrhaging and passing out. When I woke up, she was keeping vigil by my hospital bed, her eyes swollen like walnuts. “Ethan, what would I do without you?” With the woman I loved crying in my arms. In that moment, my heart melted completely. Over the next few years, I shielded her from every hardship. I sacrificed half my life to drag the Sterling Corporation back on track. But as the company stabilized, Chloe’s attitude toward me grew increasingly cold. She didn’t love me. And because of that. Not a single one of her friends respected me. They went out of their way to humiliate and make things difficult for me. In their eyes. Carter was the only man worthy of Chloe Sterling. 4 Carter smiled and poured himself a glass of liquor. Chloe immediately stopped him. “Your stomach is bad. Don’t drink.” Carter took the opportunity to grab her hand, intertwining their fingers tightly. Seeing this, the crowd around them started hooting and hollering, urging them to get back together. Completely ignoring the fact that Chloe was a married woman. Carter’s eyes reddened right on cue. He looked at Chloe with deep, affectionate longing: “Chloe, I had my reasons for leaving the country back then.” “Now, I’ve risked everything to come back. I just want to ask you one thing: Do you still love me?” The private booth instantly fell dead silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for her answer. I was waiting, too. But Chloe didn’t answer right away. She just stared at her hand, firmly grasped in Carter’s. A trace of struggle flashed through her eyes. Finally, as the corners of Carter’s eyes grew redder, she slowly opened her mouth: “Yes.” Carter looked as if he hadn’t fully processed it, asking blankly: “What?” Chloe’s eyes filled with a radiant smile as she repeated: “Carter, I still love you.” Even though the lounge’s heating was on full blast, I felt like I had been plunged into a freezer, an agonizing chill piercing me to the bone. Amidst the roaring cheers of the crowd. Carter wept tears of joy and pulled Chloe into a tight embrace. As she hugged him back, she turned her head and spotted me. A flicker of panic flashed through Chloe’s eyes before her face darkened completely. She gently pushed Carter away and walked briskly toward me. “How did you know I was here?” Carter followed closely behind, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and smiling as he chimed in: “Let’s not make a scene.” “Ethan was probably just worried about you. He probably wanted to track your location so he followed you.” Chloe’s eyes widened in fury, her voice raising as she interrogated me: “Ethan, are you stalking me?!” I stood frozen for a few seconds, laughing bitterly in my head. When a person doesn’t love you. Everything you do is wrong. Everything you do has an ulterior motive. And above all, nothing you say will be trusted. 5 When I got back home, I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained. Because of my appearance, the reunion party had ended on a sour note. Chloe had abandoned me outside the lounge, taking her driver to personally escort Carter home. Her excuse? As a friend, she was worried about Carter since he had just returned to the country. As for her actual husband, she didn’t spare a single thought. I stepped out of the shower to find that Chloe had returned. Her face was thunderous. I looked at her numbly: “What’s wrong?” Chloe kicked off her heels, lifted her chin, and stared at me with pure disgust: “Next time, don’t ever stalk people again. It’s repulsive.” I had a million explanations lined up in my throat, but meeting her impatient, hostile glare… I just squeezed out a dry, hollow sentence: “Chloe, I have never stalked you.” I desperately suppressed my emotions, trying to explain: “Carter called me and sent me a video of you two…” Chloe slammed her water glass violently onto the table, her voice trembling with rage: “Ethan, you’re supposed to be a man!” “I never realized you had so little class. Not only do you lie, but you frame other people to cover it up.” She paused, then added the final blow: “You can’t even begin to compare to Carter.” A sharp, stabbing pain ripped through my chest. In a fraction of a second, the last remaining shred of my sanity vanished. “Can’t compare? Wasn’t he the one who abandoned you like trash?!” “The second he comes crawling back, you wag your tail and run right back to him!” “Chloe Sterling, how do you sleep at night? Are you doing right by yourself? Are you doing right by me?!” That last sentence tore from my throat, raw and on the verge of breaking. Chloe grabbed the heavy glass from the table and hurled it directly at me. She shot to her feet, screaming back: “I put a roof over your head and food on your table! How have I ever done you wrong?!” “My friends called you a gold digger, and they were absolutely right!” Suddenly, I felt an eerie sense of calm. It turns out that when your heart breaks past a certain threshold, your entire body just goes numb. “Let’s get a divorce.” Chloe froze. “What did you say?” She let out a laugh of pure disbelief, her eyes dripping with arrogant mockery. “Stop throwing a tantrum, Ethan.” “You’re nothing but a pathetic loser whose own parents threw away like garbage.” “Except for me, who else in this world would ever want you?”

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1 My mother was dying of irreversible heart failure, and she begged me to fly back to the States to perform her transplant surgery. Stepping off the plane, I took a deep breath of the familiar Boston air, wondering if I would ever be able to call her Mom again. Ten years ago, the Brooks family found their biological daughter living out in the boondocks. The fake daughter, who had supposedly committed a string of vicious, unforgivable acts, was kicked to the curb. I was that fake daughter. The one who never stood a chance to clear her name. I was rushing to the hospital with the donor heart secured in my arms when a sports car swerved into the wrong lane and forced my cab to a screeching halt. The biological daughter stepped out of the passenger seat. She gave me one look, and before I could react, her bodyguard kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to hit the hard pavement. “Cynthia Brooks, you stole twenty years of my rich, perfect life, and you still want more? You actually have the nerve to come back and fight me for my parents?” I looked up into her glaring eyes. “Harper, if you value the life you have right now, you need to let me go. Now.” Before the words even left my mouth, Harper’s hand cracked across my cheek in a vicious slap. “Who the hell do you think you are to threaten me?” She stared down at me, her eyes brimming with absolute disgust. “I didn’t get to completely destroy you ten years ago, Cynthia. But look at you now, delivering yourself right to my doorstep.” She bent down, her manicured fingers digging into my jaw, forcing my face up. “You think you deserve to call her Mom? That is my mother. Not yours. You are a cheap knockoff. Where do you get off calling her that?” I didn’t have the energy to argue with her toxic logic. I just tightened my grip around the insulated medical cooler in my arms. Inside that box was a donor heart. It had to be transplanted within six hours. Harper noticed my death grip. Her gaze dropped to the cooler. “What kind of treasure are you guarding like your life depends on it?” She shot a look to her left. Two massive bodyguards stepped forward and violently wrenched the cooler from my chest. Harper popped the latches. A cloud of chilled vapor spilled out into the humid air, revealing the perfectly preserved human heart resting inside. Staring at the organ, a twisted, sick smile spread across Harper’s face. She looked at me with a morbid kind of thrill. “Wait, is your heart failing, Cynthia? Do you need a transplant? Oh, how tragic. Looks like karma is real after all!” “Tell me something,” she taunted. “If I just rub my dirty, unwashed hands all over this thing, it’ll be ruined, right? It’ll be completely useless. And you’ll just die.” She reached her hand toward the open cooler. “Don’t touch it!” I finally screamed. My entire body was shaking, but I forced myself to swallow the panic. “Harper, listen to me. That heart isn’t for me.” “I am a surgeon now. That heart belongs to my patient. Do not touch it. Destroying that will not hurt me!” I desperately wanted to scream that the heart was for our mother. But before I flew back, Margaret had explicitly forbidden me from telling anyone. Especially Harper. Margaret had kept her failing health a total secret from her biological daughter. She felt so guilty about the twenty years Harper spent in poverty that she refused to cause her any emotional pain. Harper’s hand hovered over the ice. She tilted her head, her eyes darkening with pure venom. “A surgeon?” She let out a dry, hacking laugh. “You really do have all the luck, Cynthia. Why?” “Why didn’t you end up homeless, wandering the streets like a stray dog? How did you become a doctor? How do you get to stand in an operating room?” She turned away, staring off as if sucked into a nightmare. “Do you have any idea what my life was like for those first twenty years? The years you stole from me?” “A rotting shack in the middle of nowhere. Freezing in the winter, flooded in the summer. Eating stale bread and pickled garbage. Wearing other people’s stained hand-me-downs.” “That man beat me senseless whenever he drank. That woman hated the sight of me. I was forced to work the dirt since I was a toddler. Look at my hands! I had frostbite and calluses before I could even read.” “And you? You wore the princess dresses that belonged to me. You slept in my mansion. You took ballet, you learned the piano, you got accepted into a prestigious university abroad.” “Why didn’t you have to suffer the misery that was meant for you? God is so completely blind!” Her voice escalated into a hysterical screech. I tried to keep my tone even. “Harper, a nurse switched us at the hospital.” “If you want to say I lived your life, I accept that. Even though I had no say in it.” “But later? You framed me. You bullied me. You forced Mom and Dad to publicly disown me and throw me out on the street with absolutely nothing. Hasn’t the debt been paid?” I paused, my voice trembling. “I have never personally done a single thing to hurt you. My conscience is clear.” Harper burst into maniacal laughter. “Paid? You think it’s that easy?” Before the echo of her laugh faded, she plunged her bare, unsterilized hand straight into the medical cooler and squeezed the donor heart. Preservation fluid dripped through her fingers as the vibrant, life-saving organ deformed under her grip. She held it up right in front of my face, her voice dripping with malicious amusement. “Sucks to be your patient. Guess this piece of meat is garbage now.” A raw scream tore out of my throat. “Do you have any idea who needs that heart!” 2 Seeing me break down completely only made Harper smile wider. “I don’t give a damn who needs it.” “All I know is that I am the true heiress of the Brooks family. With how much Mom and Dad owe me, they will cover up anything I do.” “But you? With this heart ruined, let’s see if you can keep playing doctor.” The blood was pounding in my ears. The roaring in my head was deafening. Since begging wouldn’t work on a psychopath, I was going to call the cops. But the second I pulled my phone from my pocket, Harper snatched it right out of my grip. At that exact moment, the screen lit up. A text notification popped onto the lock screen. [Mom: Cynthia, where are you?] Harper’s smug face contorted the second she read the caller ID. She glared down at me, her eyes burning with absolute hatred. “You are still secretly talking to my mother!” “Cynthia Brooks, you are still trying to steal my place!” “You have a career, you have everything, why do you still have to steal my mother!” I looked up at her, my mouth tasting like ash. “I am not trying to steal her from you.” The moment the words left my lips, Harper brought my own phone down and smashed it brutally against my temple. “Then why the hell is she saved as ‘Mom’ in your phone!” The heavy device struck my head with a sickening thud. A blinding flash of pain and extreme dizziness washed over me, and the world tilted. I nearly collapsed fully onto the concrete. Harper grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back to look at her. “Tell me! Why do you still call her Mom! What gives you the right!” I stayed completely silent. There was no way to explain it to her. Even if Margaret wasn’t my biological mother, she had raised me for twenty years. Even though she threw me out like trash, some pathetic, broken part of me still viewed her as a mother. I was so starved for the memory of her maternal warmth that I never had the heart to change her contact name. But I wasn’t going to justify my trauma to Harper. It would only make her crazier. I bit my lip and bent down to pick up my shattered phone from the asphalt. But just as my fingers brushed the screen, a heavy leather shoe stepped squarely onto the back of my hand. I slowly looked up. Standing above me was Liam Spencer. My childhood sweetheart. The boy who had promised to marry me. He stared down at me with dead eyes, the pressure of his shoe steadily increasing. After ten years of not seeing each other, his first words to me were a demand. “Cynthia, apologize to Harper right now.” The boy who once swore he would protect me from the world was now grinding my hand into the dirt, demanding I apologize for a crime I didn’t commit. My chest caved in. Whatever lingering affection I had for my parents or Liam was officially dead. Their love belonged exclusively to Harper now. Harper smirked, her face glowing with triumph. “Oh Liam, you always know how to take care of me.” I swallowed the sharp pain radiating up my arm. “Liam, I will tell Harper whatever she wants to hear. I will say I’m sorry a thousand times.” “But I have a critical surgery to perform right now. This is a matter of life and death. If I am late, every single one of you will regret this for the rest of your lives.” Liam didn’t lift his foot. “The surgery doesn’t matter, Cynthia. What matters is that you shouldn’t even be here. Your presence is making Harper anxious.” “She finally came home and got the life she deserved, and you, you little fraud, have the audacity to show your face again?” I ignored the agonizing pain in my hand and stared at him in pure disbelief. “Liam, I am a doctor. I have to save a dying patient. Harper is angry, fine, but have you lost your mind too?” “A heart transplant has a six-hour window. The clock is ticking.” “Harper contaminated the surface, but there is still a slight chance I can salvage it with heavy sterilization protocols. But if you keep me here any longer, this heart is going straight to the incinerator!” Seeing zero reaction from either of them, I finally drew a deep breath and screamed the truth. “The person I am trying to save is Harper’s mother.” “Margaret is lying on an operating table right now with total heart failure, waiting for this exact heart to save her life!” 3 Harper froze for a split second before letting out a mocking scoff. “You actually have the nerve to use my mother as a shield?” “Mom is perfectly healthy. She doesn’t have heart problems. You really won’t give up your pathetic lies until you’re in a coffin, will you?” She turned to Liam, her voice turning sweet and sickeningly cruel. “Liam, I want her hand destroyed. I want to make sure this little thief can never pretend to be a doctor again.” “Step on it. Step on it as hard as you can. Crush it until she can never hold a scalpel for the rest of her miserable life.” Without a shred of hesitation, Liam shifted his body weight over his foot. My right hand was pinned to the abrasive asphalt. I could feel my knuckles shifting violently under his sole. My fingernails began to crack, and bright red blood pooled out from the edges of his expensive shoe. My whole body convulsed in agony. Tears streamed down my face without my permission. “Liam…” “Stop… please stop… don’t you remember what you promised me when we were kids… Liam, look at me… it’s me… it’s Cynthia…” Liam refused to meet my eyes. “Harper is the true daughter. You didn’t just steal her parents’ love, Cynthia. You stole my love.” “You are nothing but a thief. A thief doesn’t deserve the prestige of being a surgeon. Do you honestly think dirty hands like yours deserve to hold a scalpel?” And then, I heard the sharp, sickening crack of my own bones snapping. Harper heard it too. She gasped in faux concern. “Oh no, Cynthia, what a tragedy! Your bones just broke.” “I heard that cardiac surgery requires intense, microscopic precision. With your finger bones shattered to pieces, how are you going to do all those delicate little stitches?” “Stop crying and tell me. Can you still play doctor now?” In that exact moment, the last ember of hope in my soul died. Liam finally lifted his foot. I stared blankly at my right hand. The same hand that had meticulously sutured hundreds of arteries on the operating table. It was a mangled, bloody mess of crushed bone and torn skin. A guttural wail tore out of my throat, a sound of absolute, soul-ripping despair echoing from the deepest part of my chest. Harper didn’t just want me kicked out of the family. She wanted to obliterate my entire existence. I stared at the hand I was so incredibly proud of. It was ruined. I would never perform heart surgery again. And I could no longer save my mother. Right then, the driver’s side door of Harper’s sports car opened. My father stepped out. Richard Brooks. He had been sitting inside the car the entire time. Watching with cold, indifferent eyes as I was forced to the pavement, slapped, and as Liam crushed my fingers into dust. “Alright, alright, Harper. Her hand is ruined. Let’s call it a day.”

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1 I ended up with the guy who ruthlessly bullied me in high school. When the morning light spilled into the room, I barely moved my arm. Instantly, the arm clamped around my waist pulled me tighter. Roman Vance buried his face in my neck, kissing my skin. His voice was thick and raspy with sleep. “Did you sleep well last night?” I stiffened for a second, then obediently nodded. If this were the past, I might have put up a slight struggle. But he had spent the last three weeks teaching me a very clear lesson. Obedience was the only way. He reached for my hand resting by my side, intertwining his fingers with mine. He let out a low, amused chuckle against my hair. “You didn’t throw the ring away this time?” … He was talking about the diamond ring resting on my ring finger. There had been two others before this. One I hid in the back of the freezer. The other I tossed into the decorative fountain down in the courtyard. I didn’t want to recall the consequences of losing those first two rings. But the consequence of keeping the third one was clear: I was going to marry him. The man I feared more than anyone else in the world. 2 I loved my time in the shower. Because I didn’t have to face him, and I wouldn’t trigger any terrifying memories. But as I stared blankly into the fogged-up vanity mirror, the steam couldn’t hide the glaring, harsh marks scattered across my skin. My eyes were bloodshot. I just stood there, staring at my reflection. Until Roman’s slow, methodical knocking echoed from the bathroom door. “Taking a long time in there.” “If you don’t come out, I’m coming in.” “…” It wasn’t like he hadn’t barged in unannounced before. I immediately turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel. … Breakfast was arranged perfectly on the dining table, though Roman probably didn’t have time to eat. The morning news played in the background. With his long, elegant fingers, he cleanly and sharply tied his necktie. Noticing my eyes fixed on him, he leaned over and tapped my nose. “Like what you see? Want to tie it for me next time?” I turned my face away. He just let out a careless, low laugh. Deliberately, he picked up the glass of milk I had been drinking from and took a sip, placing his lips exactly over my lipstick mark. … “Be good. Wait for me to come home.” “I’m taking you dress shopping tonight.” 3 Roman left. I stared blankly at the TV for a long time. Then, I picked up the glass he had just drank from and hurled it violently at the screen. The TV only shuddered, but the heavy glass shattered into a hundred pieces across the hardwood floor. The loud crash made the housekeeper gasp in shock. But I just pulled my knees to my chest, curled up in my chair, and cried. … Roman Vance was my walking nightmare. Back in high school, out of the entire clique that made my life hell, he was the cruelest. I remember him standing over me with that arrogant smirk, taking my backpack and dumping all my textbooks from the second-floor balcony. He orchestrated the entire class to isolate me. With his encouragement, a group of girls dragged me into the restroom and slapped me across the face. As long as he led the charge, no one dared to help me. Because Roman was the heir to a massive corporate empire. His dad’s company had funded the entire new science wing of our school. He mocked me flawlessly, and back then, bullying me simply became the school trend. I heard that his handsome face was the subject of countless girls’ fantasies. But to me, he was the demon that kept me awake night after night, shivering in terror. And yet, this same man… Seven years after graduation… Said he was going to marry me. 4 I could never shake the habit of trembling whenever I saw Roman. Even though we had been sharing a bed for three weeks. No one would help me. When my mom found out a man of Roman’s status wanted to marry me, she acted like she had won the lottery. Roman seemed to have switched cars again today. The backseat of this one was incredibly spacious. I hated cars with spacious backseats. The privacy partition was rolled up. No one in the front could see what he was doing to me in the back. But Roman was quieter than usual today. Probably because I wouldn’t stop shaking. He had turned the heat up in the car, but the tremors wouldn’t stop. Ignoring my resistance, he pulled me flush against his chest. “Hazel, are you really that terrified?” The man’s low whisper brushed against my ear. He knew exactly who caused me to be like this. “I’m taking you to pick out a wedding dress. Doesn’t that sound nice?” I tried with everything I had to suppress my trembling, but a sarcastic, broken laugh escaped my lips anyway. Who would have ever thought? The very man who pushed me into the abyss… Was now gently whispering about wedding dresses. 5 The boutique Roman brought me to was located inside a private, gated mansion. Crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant, blinding light over the stunning gowns displayed on mannequins. I wasn’t in the mood to look, let alone choose. I just let Roman and the designer discuss custom styles for me. I let the assistants wrap measuring tapes around my body like I was a doll. The boutique had a small courtyard garden in the back. That interested me more. So, while they talked, I lifted the hem of my skirt and walked out to the small koi pond. There was a wrought-iron gate at the back of the garden. It looked like if I could just pass through it, it would lead to infinite freedom. In truth, I had thought about running away a million times. But every time I mustered the courage, a crushing realization hit me: I had nowhere to run. My mom desperately wanted this marriage. She had grabbed my hands and begged me to stop causing trouble. I sat by the edge of the pond until Roman finished his meeting and came to find me. “What are you thinking about?” He always did this. Looking down at me from high above. So, I rolled up my sleeve and held my arm out to him. On my wrist was a small, circular red scar, bordered by thick, raised tissue. “Look. The cigarette burn you gave me.” I was referring to a day in high school. He was in a bad mood, dragged me into a corner, and pressed a lit cigarette directly into my skin. It hurt so much. It hurt so badly that I forgot what else he did to me that day. The man looking down at me froze. For a long moment, he just stared. Then, he crouched down in front of me. Even though I hated to admit it, Roman’s face was flawless. Perfect. Like a masterpiece sculpted by the greatest artist of ancient Greece. If he looked at anyone with a tender expression, they would drown in his eyes. I guess that’s why they say the devil always wears the most intoxicating face. The flame of his lighter flickered. Right in front of me, he lit a cigarette. I flinched automatically, terrified the burning ash would fall onto my arm again. But the next second, without batting an eye, he pressed the glowing, burning tip of the cigarette directly into his own wrist. In the exact same spot as my scar. He looked at me quietly. “Does that make you feel a little better, Hazel?” “…” I looked down. The ashes crumbled, and the raw, fresh burn was glaring to look at. Suddenly, he reached out and pulled me into his arms. “Hazel. If only you could give a fraction of your pain to me.” Summer fireflies drifted upward over the pond. I stared blankly at the rippling moonlight. “Roman, you know full well that you’re the one who caused all that pain.” His body went entirely rigid. Then, slowly, he began stroking my hair. “Then let me atone for it. Please?” “…”

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1 My boyfriend was hailed as a once-in-a-century painting prodigy, while I struggled to even distinguish the most basic color wheels. For seven years, he shielded me from the world’s ridicule, until a brilliant young artist named Giselle entered the picture. When I broke my leg and desperately needed his care, he spent the night refining draft sketches for Giselle. When a creep stalked me down a dark alley and I called him crying for help, his priority was rushing Giselle’s dog to the veterinary clinic because it was having a difficult labor. Today, when his friends teased him once again, saying he and Giselle were a match made in heaven, Tristan didn’t snap back in my defense like he used to. Instead, he simply offered a bittersweet, regretful smile and let it slide. That very evening, over dinner, he looked up and asked, “Maybe I should ask Giselle to consult her uncle? He’s a specialist. Who knows, he might be able to cure your color blindness.” My hand, holding the ladle over the bowl of chicken soup, froze. On the surface, Tristan looked like a devoted partner trying to salvage a fracturing relationship. But in reality, his heart had already drifted. He was finally confronting my mediocrity, and worse, he was starting to resent it. Instead of answering, I offered a faint, bitter smile. “Why do you bring up Giselle so much lately?” Tristan blinked, a rare flash of guilt crossing his face. “You know how it is,” he stammered, trying to justify himself. “She’s the only one in the industry who can actually challenge me right now…” Tristan was a proud man. In the past, he would never have bothered with such defensive explanations. Back then, he would have wrapped his arms around me and whispered, “Sia, my world only has room for my brush and you. I don’t have the energy for anyone else.” Now, without him even realizing it, Giselle had climbed the ranks. She was his priority, and I was just an afterthought. When my broken leg kept me bedridden, he spent the night refining her canvases. When a stranger followed me down the street and I called him in tears, he told me to wait because Giselle’s Frenchie was in labor. When I finally confronted him, screaming through my tears, his voice was cold as ice. He claimed it wasn’t about Giselle, but about art and saving a life. But Tristan, I had told him from the very beginning: I do not tolerate dirt in my eyes. I do not share. His defensive bravado crumbled the moment I slid a photo across the table. It was a picture of him and Giselle locked in a tight embrace. His face paled, then twisted in outrage, as if he were the victim of some profound betrayal. “You spied on me?” Catching his own defensive tone, he tried to backtrack, his voice softening in a desperate bid to smooth things over. “Giselle was drunk, Sia. I was just catching her so she wouldn’t fall…” Watching his clumsy performance, I swallowed the lump of burning sorrow in my throat. I decided to give him one last chance. “If you want us to have a future, delete her. Block her number, throw out her socials, and never see her again.” Tristan stared at me, his eyes darkening to a cold, predatory pitch. Then, without warning, he stood up and violently swept the entire dinner off the table. The plates shattered against the hardwood floor. “All you do is cook and clean!” he roared. “You have zero connection to my art! You can’t possibly comprehend the mutual respect between two geniuses! I have tolerated your mediocrity and your incompetence for years, and now you want to control my career and my life?” I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the broken porcelain and spilled soup scattered at our feet. It looked exactly like the end of our seven-year relationship. His rage was hideous, entirely foreign. For seven years, Tristan had been cool, collected, almost detached from the world. He only cared about his canvas and me. He had never been this savage, this monstrous, screaming as though I were trying to tear away his most prized possession. I knelt down, my fingers brushing against a sharp shard of a broken plate. My voice was as calm as a summer breeze. “Tristan, let’s break up.” 2 My mind drifted back to eight years ago. The day I met Tristan, I was hovering on the edge of life and death. Severe depression had blurred the lines between reality and delusion. I had wandered onto a bridge, staring down at the churning river that seemed to be beckoning me. Tristan, who happened to be passing by, noticed my trance-like state and pulled me back from the ledge. He had been at his own rock bottom back then. We found solace in each other, licking each other’s wounds until we became each other’s entire universe. Eventually, Tristan scaled the heights of the art world, while I settled into the quiet role of a supportive, stay-at-home girlfriend. Even so, whenever anyone sneered at me or looked down on my lack of ambition, Tristan was always the first to stand up for me. He fiercely defended our love. “Ignore them, Sia,” he would say, wrapping me in his warmth. “You will always be the only one for me.” I used to believe that love could conquer any obstacle. As it turned out, our forever had an expiration date of seven years. A sharp, stinging pain snapped me back to the present. Tristan kicked a broken bowl in frustration. The heavy ceramic shard ricocheted off the baseboard and sliced deep into my forearm. Blood welled up instantly, staining my skin crimson. Tristan froze. Panic washed over his features, and he rushed over, tears welling in his eyes as he grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry, Sia! God, I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve been hitting a wall with my painting, and the pressure has just been eating me alive…” Babbling apologies, he practically dragged me out the door to head to the hospital. In his frantic haste, the usually composed and meticulous Tristan lost his shoes three times on the way to the car. For a fleeting second, he looked like the man who would lose his mind just to keep me safe. But deep down, I knew. There was no going back. After the doctor finished stitching up my arm, Tristan left the room to buy me some warm soup. I sat alone on the hospital bed, holding my phone, and began deleting seven years of memories. That was when Giselle walked in. It was our first face-to-face confrontation. She was striking, possessing a sharp, ethereal beauty that mirrored her artwork. She looked down at me as if I were a speck of dust. “An idiot like you doesn’t deserve Tristan,” she said, cutting straight to the chase. “Do yourself a favor and leave him.” I let out a soft laugh. I didn’t even have the energy to argue. I just kept tapping my screen, deleting photo after photo. Annoyed by my silence, Giselle shoved her phone in front of my face, displaying her chat with Tristan. Sia has changed, Tristan’s message read. She never used to pick fights like this. Tonight, she didn’t even try to dodge the broken plate. I think she did it on purpose just to play the victim and get my sympathy. My chest tightened so hard it was difficult to breathe. In the past, if I so much as stubbed my toe, Tristan would lose sleep worrying about me. Now, with a deep gash on my arm, he dismissed it as a cheap trick to win sympathy. I suppose it’s true what they say: when a man stops loving you, even if you hang yourself, he’ll just assume you’re playing on a swing. I blinked rapidly, forcing the hot tears back. Giselle smirked and scrolled up. I watched, numb, subjecting myself to the torture of reading their history. This was the man who was supposedly a man of few words, who treated everyone but me with cold indifference. Yet here he was, texting Giselle every single day. They shared art, jokes, and even pictures of mundane things, like a crooked tree they saw on the street. The weight of it all suddenly felt incredibly tedious. I looked away from the screen and locked eyes with Giselle’s smug face. “You really are a shameless home-wrecker, aren’t you?” I said, emphasizing every syllable. Her smile flickered for a second before turning into a venomous grin. “Want to make a bet?” she whispered. “Let’s see who Tristan actually believes. Let’s see who he cares about more.” Before I could react, she grabbed a fistful of my hair, dragged me off the side of the bed, and slammed my head against the sterile white wall. My injured arm made it impossible to fight back effectively, and her attack was entirely unexpected. Once, twice, three times. She didn’t stop until warm blood began to trickle down my forehead. Instantly, her face morphed into a mask of pure terror. She stumbled backward, screaming as she ran out the door, “Doctor! Nurse! Help! Someone’s trying to hurt themselves!” 3 Tristan came rushing back into the room. Before I could utter a single word, Giselle threw herself at him, gripping his sleeve and sobbing hysterically. “Tristan, you have to believe me! I didn’t even touch a single hair on Sia’s head!” After a long, agonizing silence, Tristan murmured a few comforting words to her, then turned toward me with a conflicted expression. He stared at the fresh bandages wrapped around my head. “Sia, tell me the truth,” he said, his voice laced with pre-determined accusation. “Are you just jealous of the artistic connection Giselle and I share? Is that why you did this to yourself?” Slap! I cut his absurd accusation short with a stinging slap across his face. My left hand throbbed from the impact, but compared to the shattering pain in my chest, I felt absolutely nothing. Was this really the man I had loved for seven long years? Giselle gasped, rushing forward to pull the stunned Tristan away from me. “It’s one thing to frame me,” she cried, tears spilling over her cheeks, “but Tristan was only trying to understand! How could you lay a hand on him?” She turned to him, her voice dripping with sympathy. “Tristan, stay here. I’ll get an ice pack from the nurse.” I watched their little drama with cold, detached eyes. I pulled out my phone and dialed the police. “Don’t leave just yet,” I said calmly. “Since you claim I’m framing you, let’s let the police sort this out.” Giselle instinctively glanced up at the ceiling. I knew what she was thinking; she knew there were no security cameras in this private recovery room. Unfortunately for her, I had learned my lesson the hard way years ago. The moment she had walked in, I had quietly activated the voice recorder on my phone. I also knew Tristan too well. He was fiercely protective of those he cared about, and I was no longer the one he held dear. If I didn’t wait for the authorities to arrive before showing my hand, he would find a way to bury the evidence. Giselle stood quietly while I finished the call. She bit her lower lip, offering Tristan a brave, watery smile. “It’s okay, Tristan. As long as you believe me, nothing else matters. A clean conscience fears no accusation. I’m sure the officers will see through this.” Tristan looked at her with profound pity before turning his fury back on me. “When did you become so malicious, Sia? Making a false police report is a waste of public resources. You’d better have a damn good explanation when they get here!” I let out a sharp laugh. “Tell me, Tristan. From the second you walked into this room, have I uttered a single word accusing Giselle?” Tristan froze. A flicker of realization and embarrassment crossed his face. An exhausting wave of fatigue washed over me. I closed my eyes, refusing to engage with his pathetic deflections, and waited in silence for the police to arrive. Giselle was always one to seize the narrative. The second the officers walked through the door, she rushed forward, pointing a trembling finger at me. “I only came to visit her out of goodwill, but she suddenly started throwing her head against the wall to frame me!” Tristan stepped in, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry about this, officers. My girlfriend has been very unstable lately. She has a history of severe clinical depression, and…” My chest tightened. During the darkest years of my illness, Tristan would threaten anyone who dared mention the word depression around me. When I used to hurt myself, he would hold me so tight, ignoring the cuts from the sharp blades in my hands, whispering over and over, “Sia, you’re not sick. You’re just unhappy right now. I’ll make it better, I promise. Just don’t give up on yourself.” Yet now, to protect another woman, he weaponized my deepest trauma without a second thought. The lead officer didn’t buy their story immediately. He turned to me. “Miss Sienna, do you have anything to add?” I offered a polite, chilly smile and tapped my phone screen to play the recording.

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By the time I transferred to his school, Ryder had already dated every pretty girl in the hallways. He used to joke with his friends, “I’d rather date a stray dog than date Harper.” I am Harper. But a month later, his best friend pinned me against the lockers and confessed his feelings. When Ryder saw the faint mark on my collarbone, he completely lost his mind. “Who gave you permission to touch her?” 1 “Um… could you pass this to Ryder for me?” I took the pale pink envelope. It was the eleventh love letter this month. Everyone knew I was Ryder’s childhood best friend, and everyone knew that out of all the girls in the world, I was the absolute last one he would ever like. So, they felt perfectly safe using me as their personal mail carrier. Just like always, when Ryder took the letter, he raised an eyebrow, thought for a second about who the girl might be, and let out a soft scoff. “My standards aren’t that low.” He tossed the letter back into my arms. “Someone on your level? No thanks.” His friends burst into laughter. Ryder looked at me, his eyes dripping with sarcasm. Why? Because the very first love letter Ryder ever tore to pieces was mine. 2 Ryder and I grew up next door to each other. Our parents were close friends, so naturally, everyone assumed we were close, too. And in the beginning, we were. Until one specific… accident. We were playing Truth or Dare. Ryder picked dare, and someone challenged him to kiss me. Back then, we were just awkward teenagers with too much pride. He asked me, “Do you mind?” Before I could even process the question, he leaned in and kissed me. “Tsk. Nothing special.” From that moment on, I was no longer the untouchable straight-A student in everyone’s eyes. I was just another one of Ryder’s possessions. 3 Ryder’s grades were terrible. Because of that, his parents constantly asked me to tutor him. But on the day we agreed to meet at the local library, I stood alone at the bus stop for nearly an hour. Eventually, I opened Snapchat and saw his story—he was at a sketchy gaming lounge, bragging about a ten-game win streak. I took an Uber to the lounge. The air inside was thick with vape smoke. There was a girl literally sitting on his lap. Her friends were cheering him on. Suddenly, he turned his head and locked eyes with me. He gave me a nasty, wicked smirk. 4 “Harper, are you out of your freaking mind?!” Ryder had been screamed at by his parents, and his car keys and allowance were confiscated. He couldn’t go to the gaming lounge anymore, all because I snitched. “You shouldn’t be hanging around places like that,” I said, emphasizing every word. Back then, I hid my massive crush on him behind a wall of stubborn, self-righteous concern. But all my care only bought his growing disgust. Ryder grabbed my chin. “What gives you the right to control me?” “Did you honestly think that just because we kissed, you’re my girlfriend? What a joke!” 5 Ryder was undeniably gorgeous. Combined with his rebellious, bad-boy attitude, he quickly became the most popular guy in school. Girls lined up to try and tame him. He never turned them down, playing the field with a casual, heartless charm. Even when he was just shooting hoops, his skills had the bleachers screaming his name. But Ryder didn’t hold back. He hurled the basketball directly, and violently, at me. “Oops. Sorry.” He sounded entirely bored as he watched me clutch my stinging arm. “You’re not going to hold a grudge against me, right, my little childhood friend?” After that day, the whole school knew: Ryder hated me. 6 Gradually, I accepted that fact. I took the carefully written love letter I had poured my teenage heart into and buried it deep in a drawer. I stopped paying attention to him. But in front of our parents, we still had to play the part of best friends. “Ryder’s grades have really improved lately! It must be all thanks to Harper. Here, I cut up some fruit for you two,” his mother said with a bright smile. Ryder looked like he was in a great mood. But he subtly shot me a warning glare. His grades didn’t improve because of me. They improved because he was “studying” after hours with Stella, the most popular girl in our grade. I knew, because I had caught them making out in an empty classroom. 7 I had already tried to erase Ryder from my world. But we went to the same school; avoiding him completely was impossible. As a consistent straight-A student, I had just been nominated for State Honor Scholar, and I needed to give a speech the next day. I stayed late after school to rehearse in the auditorium. Walking down the hall, I passed an empty classroom. The sounds coming from inside were quiet but unmistakable. I just turned my head, and through the gap in the blinds, I locked eyes with Ryder. He had Stella pinned against a desk. In the brief second he looked up, he caught me. Right then, I knew he was adding another strike to my name. 8 Stella, Ryder’s new girlfriend, used to be the runner-up for Valedictorian. But after she started dating him, her grades visibly tanked. This quickly caught the counselors’ attention. They pulled me into the office. “Has Stella been acting strangely lately? Is she hanging around a bad crowd?” I just shook my head. “I don’t know.” But secrets never stay buried. Somehow, word got out that I had been questioned. Ryder and Stella’s relationship was exposed. His parents found out, and his dad—a man with a terrifying temper—dragged him home and beat him. My parents weren’t home that day. Ryder forcefully barged into my bedroom. “I underestimated you.” He shoved me hard. I lost my balance and crashed into my desk. One of the drawers flew out, spilling its contents across the floor. Ryder’s grip on my wrist tightened, then froze. Because we both saw it. Lying on the floor was the pale pink love letter. It had my name on it, and his. And he recognized my handwriting perfectly. 9 “Oh… so you’re just jealous?” Ryder’s face lit up with mocking realization. He ripped the love letter to shreds, then grabbed me. I struggled against his grip. “I didn’t snitch on you!” He raised an eyebrow. “I have something more important to deal with right now.” Ryder snatched a pair of scissors from my desk and snipped off a lock of my hair. “Harper, I would rather date a dog than date you.”

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1 I was beaten into a permanent disability by the school bully. Yet, my father, a star attorney, took the case as the defense lawyer for the main attacker. In court, his words were sharp and flawless as he successfully argued for a verdict of not guilty. He saved the girl who had nearly taken my life. All because the girl’s mother was the benefactor who had sponsored his college education decades ago. When I confronted him, my father stood tall, entirely self-righteous. “Everyone is equal before the law, Tessa,” he said. “I cannot abandon my professional ethics just because my daughter was the victim. Brenda was just impulsive. I couldn’t bear to see her entire life ruined over one mistake.” As I watched the girl walk out of the courthouse, a free woman, a smile stretched across my face. I pulled the disownment papers from my bag—the ones I had prepared days ago—and threw them directly at his face. “Since you value your professional ethics so highly, and since you love repaying favors so much,” I said, “I hope you do a good job defending the rest of your life.” My father didn’t even look at the document. To him, this was just another dramatic tantrum from his teenage daughter. “Have you had enough, Tessa?” He picked up the sheets of paper, crumpling them into a ball without reading a single line, and tossed them into the trash bin. “Tonight, Glenda is hosting a dinner at The Gilded Fork to celebrate. You’re coming with me.” “Brenda will be there too. I’ll have her offer you a proper apology, and we can put this entire mess behind us.” I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. Put it behind us? I was still confined to a wheelchair, and the girl who had shattered my knee had just walked free. And he wanted me to attend her victory dinner? “I’m not going,” I said quietly, turning my wheelchair toward the exit. Behind me, my father’s voice rose, thick with suppressed anger. “Tessa! Can you stop being so incredibly petty? Glenda’s family isn’t wealthy. She spent half her monthly wages on this dinner. If you don’t show up, you’re disrespecting me, and you’re disrespecting her!” I didn’t look back. I wheeled myself forward as fast as my arms could manage, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of his voice. When I rolled past the courthouse doors, the blinding afternoon sun made my head spin. My mother’s sedan was parked at the curb. Seeing me emerge, she scrambled out of the driver’s seat, her face pale and anxious. “Tessa! How did it go? What was the verdict?” Looking at this woman, who had lived her entire life as a quiet shadow in our household, a wave of profound exhaustion washed over me. “Not guilty,” I said. My mother froze, her mouth slightly open. “But… how? Your father said the trial was just a formality. He said he was going to negotiate a suspended sentence. How could she be acquitted?” I let out a dry laugh. “Mom, your husband is a star lawyer. If he wants someone to walk free, they walk free. Even if that person broke his own daughter’s leg.” My mother wrung her hands, her eyes darting away in sheer discomfort. “Well… your father must have had his reasons. Glenda did help him back in the day…” “Save it,” I interrupted, cutting her off. “Take me to the hospital. I’m not going home.” She hesitated, glancing back at the courthouse steps. “Actually… your father texted me. He wants us to head straight to The Gilded Fork. He said if we don’t show up, he’ll freeze my credit cards.” I stared at her. Fifty years old, and she lived like a dog on a leash, entirely dependent on my father’s money, never daring to raise her voice. “Then you should go,” I said, pulling out my phone to hail an accessible rideshare. “I’ll go by myself.” “Tessa, please don’t be like this—” She reached out to grab my arm, but I yanked it away. “Mom, if you still want to be my mother, do not go to that dinner. If you go, don’t ever bother coming to see me again.” My ride pulled up to the curb. The driver quickly got out, gently helping me into the passenger seat. Through the glass window, I saw my mother standing on the pavement, her face twisted in agonizing conflict. But in the end, she let out a quiet sigh, turned back to her sedan, and drove off. She headed toward the restaurant. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall in the silence of the car. This was my family. A self-righteous saint for a father, and a weak, submissive coward for a mother. And I was nothing but an inconvenient casualty in their lives. Shortly after I was settled into my hospital bed, my phone began to buzz incessantly. I opened social media. Brenda had posted a photo album of her celebration dinner. In the pictures, she was raising a champagne glass, her face flushed red with joy. My father sat at the head of the table, offering his signature warm, distinguished smile. Her caption read: Thank you, Uncle Victor! Justice may be delayed, but it is never denied! Cheers! Justice? What a joke. I opened the comments. They were filled with congratulations from her friends. Brenda is queen! Attorney Victor is legendary! Where’s the cripple? Didn’t she come to pour the drinks? Brenda had replied: Probably crying in her bedroom, haha. My fingers shook against the screen. Suddenly, a notification popped up. A bank transfer of two thousand dollars from my father. His note read: Stop throwing tantrums. Use this to buy yourself something nice. I told Glenda she doesn’t have to worry about your medical expenses. Their family is struggling, and we need to show some compassion. I stared at the words, a wave of intense nausea rising in my throat. I hurled my phone against the brick wall. 2 I stayed in the hospital for three days. During that time, my father never visited once. Instead, Glenda showed up, clutching a plastic basket filled with bruised, rotting apples. She wore her dusty work uniform, standing awkwardly at the entrance of my room. “Tessa,” she said, placing the basket on my nightstand. She rubbed her calloused hands together. “Brenda is just a kid. Sometimes she gets rough and doesn’t know her own strength. I’ve already scolded her.” “Look, your father got her off, so let’s call it even, okay?” Even? I stared at the decaying apples she had likely picked up from a bargain bin. A dry laugh caught in my throat. “My leg is worth a basket of rotten garbage?” Glenda’s face hardened, but she quickly forced her polite smile back on. “Oh, Tessa, you shouldn’t talk like that. When your father was in college, I scraped together every penny to keep him fed. People need to show some gratitude. Look at how reasonable your father is.” “Besides, your family has plenty of money. You don’t need us to pay for your hospital bills. My Brenda still needs to get married, she can’t be carrying a debt.” In that moment, I understood the depths of human shamelessness. This family was a nest of leeches, and my father was the idiot who kept offering them his veins. “Get out,” I said, pointing at the door. “Take your garbage and get the hell out of my room.” Glenda’s smile vanished. “What an insolent, disrespectful brat. No wonder Brenda had to teach you a lesson.” She snatched her basket, muttering curses under her breath, and spat on the linoleum floor before slamming the door behind her. I pressed the call button, asking the nurse to come in and disinfect the room. It was repulsive. That afternoon, the head nurse came in, a worried look on her face as she held an invoice. “Tessa… your account is overdrawn. If we don’t receive a payment soon, we’ll have to stop your medications.” I blinked. “Overdrawn? Did my father… did Victor not pay the deposit?” The nurse shook her head. “He came by yesterday and withdrew the fifty-thousand-dollar pre-payment. He said… he said the other family was facing financial difficulties, so he was lending them the money to help them get by. He told us you could cover the hospital bills with your own savings.” A loud ringing filled my ears. The last thread of my patience snapped. He had taken my medical funds and handed them to the girl who had crippled me. Was this the act of a biological father? With trembling hands, I borrowed the nurse’s phone and dialed his number. It rang for a long time before connecting. In the background, I could hear the clatter of tiles and my father’s booming laughter. “Hello? Who is this?” “It’s me.” The line went quiet for a second, and then his voice turned sharp and impatient. “Tessa? Where is your phone? Why are you calling from an unknown number?” “Victor, did you withdraw my surgery deposit?” I asked, using his name. “Is that how you speak to your father?” he barked. “Glenda’s family is trying to buy an apartment in the city, and they were short on the down payment. I figured your hospital expenses weren’t that urgent, so I lent them the funds. Don’t you have your own savings? Use that first. Don’t be so incredibly selfish, Tessa. Learn to help those in need.” Help those in need. He was stripping my bones to keep them warm. “That was my surgery money!” I screamed into the receiver. “The surgeon said I need my second reconstructive procedure next week, or I’ll be permanently disabled! You gave my medical funds to Brenda’s family for an apartment? Are you out of your mind?!” Through the line, I heard Glenda’s voice in the background. “Oh, Victor, if Tessa needs it for her leg, we can wait on the apartment…” Then came my father’s firm, reassuring tone. “Don’t listen to her, Glenda. Doctors always exaggerate. It’s not that serious.” “Tessa, figure it out yourself. Stop bothering me.” The line went dead. I stared at the black screen, my body freezing. The nurse cast a look of deep pity in my direction. “Tessa… is there anyone else? Can you call your mother?” My mother? The woman who couldn’t even buy personal items without begging for his permission? I shook my head. “No. Please prepare my discharge papers.” “But your leg—” “I’m done treating it.” Since the world was rotten to the core, I had no reason to play the good daughter anymore. I went back to our house while they were out. I packed up everything that belonged to me, leaving only the signed disownment papers on his desk. My vintage sneaker collection, my limited-edition collectibles, and the small gold bars I had accumulated over the years—I posted them all on online marketplace apps, selling them at a fraction of their value. I only accepted cash. With the money, I rented a small, accessible apartment in a neighboring town and checked myself into a private orthopedic clinic. Though I had missed the optimal window for treatment, the surgeon assured me that with enough therapy, I could walk again, though running or any intense physical activity was out of the question. I had been the captain of my varsity basketball team. Now, I was a cripple. But I didn’t shed a single tear. My tears had run dry that afternoon in the hospital.

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1 When I arrived at my own wedding wearing my formal suit, I found a professional octagon sparring ring erected in the center of the stage. My fiancée, Isla, was holding the hand of her male best friend, Wesley. She offered me a pair of boxing gloves with a bright, reassuring smile. “Lucas, it is an old custom from our hometown. The groom is supposed to have a playful wrestling match with the male members of the bridal party to bring good fortune. I specifically asked Wesley to step up. Just play along and keep it light.” Looking at the slender, lanky Wesley, I did not think twice before climbing into the ring. But the very next second, he executed a highly professional, brutal spin kick that struck my temple, causing a severe concussion and knocking me out cold. When I woke up, paralyzed in a hospital bed, Isla stood over me, holding Wesley’s hand. “The guests contributed so much money in wedding gifts, the ceremony could not go on without a groom. Wesley is willing to take care of me in your place. You are so kind, Lucas, I know you will not mind, right?” Driven by sheer despair and severe depression, I pushed my wheelchair to the edge of the apartment terrace and plunged into the dark abyss. But when I opened my eyes once more, I had returned to a month before the wedding. I turned on my heel and knocked on the heavy metal doors of the elite national martial arts training academy. “Coach, can you teach me how to shatter someone’s jaw in just thirty days?” The head coach looked me over, his eyes lingering on my thin arms and legs for several seconds before he let out a scoff. “Shatter someone’s jaw? With your frame, someone could knock you down with a single slap.” I did not say a word. I simply pulled a thick stack of cash from my bag and placed it on his desk. Five thousand dollars, every penny of the secret savings I had managed to keep over the past two years. The coach pushed the cash back with a look of indifference. “I do not need your money.” But when I rolled up my sleeve, exposing the dark, yellowing bruises left by Isla during her latest drunken rage, his expression shifted. He quietly retrieved a legal waiver from his desk drawer and slid it toward me. “Sign this. The academy is not liable for any injuries sustained during your sessions.” “This includes, but is not limited to, fractures, concussions, and internal bleeding.” I grabbed the pen and signed my name without hesitation. Once the waiver was secured, the relaxed expression vanished from the coach’s face. “Alright. From today on, I will train you with the intensity of an active professional lightweight champion.” “I cannot promise you will be shattering jaws in thirty days, but I guarantee you will be wishing you were dead by the end of the first week.” On my first day, my sparring partners threw me to the canvas forty-seven times. Every single time my back slammed against the heavy padding, the memories of my past life flashed before my eyes. I saw Wesley’s foot connecting with my temple. I saw myself lying in that sterile hospital bed, tubes running in and out of my body, while Isla stood at the foot of the bed with a look of false concern. “Lucas, Wesley is willing to take care of me in your place. You are so kind, I know you will not mind, right?” How could I not mind? Only three days after my paralysis, she had registered her marriage with Wesley. They lived in my fully paid apartment, spending my hard-earned savings. The world praised Isla for her loyalty and called Wesley a saint for stepping up. Not a single soul cared whether the paralyzed groom, left with a shattered skull, wanted to live or die. Driven by the memory, I pushed myself up from the canvas and gestured to my sparring partner. “Again.” The partner looked at the coach, who gave a brief, firm nod. “Go.” That night, as I lay on the narrow cot in the academy dormitory, my body was covered in dark bruises. My phone screen lit up with a message from Isla. “Sweetheart, I am still at the office working late. I am keeping an eye on the wedding planners, so just focus on being the most handsome groom.” I stared at the words working late, then opened her social media feed. Wesley had posted a selfie in a formal suit three minutes ago. In the background, resting on the arm of a velvet sofa, was a designer Hermès handbag: the exact bag I had purchased for Isla’s birthday last month. The caption read: Only the favored ones get the privilege of a trial run before the wedding. I gripped my phone, opened my chat with Isla, and sent a voice message. “Thank you for your hard work, darling. I trust you completely with the planning.” Then I typed out a quick follow-up. “By the way, I saw a custom-tailored suit, a limited edition. The deposit is twenty thousand dollars. What do you think?” “Is it too expensive? A regular suit is fine.” “But I only get married once, and you promised to give me the grandest wedding in the city.” She remained silent for nearly two minutes before sending a single word. “Alright.” A cold smile touched my lips as I locked the screen and turned toward the wall. Isla, in my past life, you wanted my money, my home, and my life. In this life, I will drain you dry first. 2 By day, I played the part of the doting fiancé, discussing suit styles with colleagues, tasting wedding cakes, and projecting an image of absolute bliss. The moment my shift ended, I headed straight to the gym. I put on my protective gear, laced up my gloves, and transitioned from sending sweet messages to my fiancée to striking the heavy bag with absolute fury. Following my instructions, the coach trained me specifically to counter the spin kick. “You said your opponent is experienced with this kick?” “Yes.” “What is his background?” “He used to be a sparring partner in underground rings.” The coach’s brow furrowed. “Fighters from those rings have dirty techniques. They do not follow standard rules; they target vital areas.” He pulled up a video of an underground match to show me. “Look closely. Before they launch the kick, there is a tiny rotation of the hip. It is incredibly fast, taking less than three-tenths of a second.” “Your job is to slip the angle within that fraction of a second, absorb the force, and close the distance for a counterattack.” I nodded, practicing the movement thousands of times. When Harrison, my closest friend, came to pick me up from the gym, he stared at the dark bruises covering my arms, his eyes filling with tears. “Lucas, have you lost your mind? Why are you doing this to yourself?” I removed my hand wraps and took a long drink of water. “Take a look at this.” I handed him my phone, displaying a series of financial statements provided by a private investigator. Isla had taken out eight thousand dollars in high-interest online loans. Six thousand of that sum had been spent on a gold Cartier bracelet delivered directly to Wesley’s apartment. Harrison’s jaw dropped. “She took out loans to buy him luxury jewelry? What has she ever bought for you? A cheap bouquet of flowers on your birthday! Call off the wedding, Lucas! You cannot go through with this!” I took my phone back, shaking my head. “I cannot call it off. I need her to climb onto that stage so I can make her spit out every single dollar she stole.” Harrison stared at me, his expression turning solemn. “I do not know what your plan is, Lucas, but whatever you do, I have your back.” I watched him drive away, then turned back to the heavy bag. Three days before the wedding, the investigator sent me a final audio recording, captured by a device hidden in Isla’s car. Wesley’s voice came through clearly. “Isla, after the wedding, he will be a vegetable. The house is fully paid for, right? We can transfer it to your name and move in together.” Isla’s laughter followed. “Do not worry. Once the house is secure, we will drain his savings. This marriage will be worth every penny.” “You are so wicked, Isla.” “Do you like it?” “I love it.” I sat on the bench in the locker room, listening to the file three times. My hands remained perfectly steady as I backed up the audio to three separate cloud servers. Then, I wired the final payment to the investigator with a short note: Excellent work. Worth every penny. Two days before the wedding, Isla’s mother arrived at my apartment. She brought a small bag of discounted fruit, sat on my sofa with her legs crossed, and began delivering her demands. “Lucas, I want to discuss something with you.” “Your apartment is registered solely under your name because you bought it before the wedding, correct? But now that you and Isla are becoming a family, keeping only your name on the deed looks terrible.” “Add Isla’s name to the title. Our relatives will see it as a sign of your devotion.” 3 I kept my eyes on my teacup, remaining silent. “Even Wesley said that a real man does not divide his property from his wife. Being generous brings good fortune.” How interesting. A complete stranger was dictating the terms of my estate, and my future mother-in-law saw nothing wrong with it. I took a deep breath, forcing a polite, submissive smile onto my face. “You are entirely right, mother. Let me have the deed, and I will take care of the paperwork tomorrow.” She beamed with delight, pulling the deed from her purse and handing it to me. She had been carrying it with her, waiting for this exact moment. I took the document and ushered her out of the apartment. The moment the door closed, the smile vanished from my face. I took the deed straight to a mortgage broker. I did not add Isla’s name; I applied for a home equity loan. The apartment was valued at $3.8 million. I secured a loan of $2.6 million. The funds cleared the same afternoon, and I immediately transferred the entire sum to Harrison’s account. In my past life, Isla had successfully transferred the title and sold the property, leaving me with nothing. In this life, she would not get a single penny. When I returned home, Isla was standing in the kitchen, offering me a bowl of dark, herbal soup. “Sweetheart, you look exhausted lately. I prepared some soothing herbal soup for you. Drink it and get some rest so you can be the most handsome groom.” I took the bowl, immediately detecting the medicinal scent hidden beneath the sweet dates. In my past life, this very soup had kept me asleep for ten hours, giving Wesley ample time to transform the wedding stage into a sparring ring. I brought the bowl to my lips, pretending to drink, but the moment she turned her back, I spat the liquid into a tissue and stuffed it into my pocket. “Thank you, darling. It is wonderful.” A flicker of satisfaction crossed her eyes. “Get some sleep. We have rehearsals tomorrow.” She took her coat and left the bedroom, closing the guest room door behind her to make a call. I pressed my ear against the wall, listening to her quiet voice. “Wesley, he drank it. He is out cold. Everything is set for the wedding.” Wesley’s voice came through the receiver. “Isla, should I target his left temple or his right on stage?” Isla chuckled. “Whatever makes you happy. As long as he spends the rest of his life in a wheelchair.” I retreated to my desk, opened my laptop, and began compiling all the evidence I had gathered into a detailed presentation. The title screen read: The Groom’s Reality. I programmed the file to upload and broadcast automatically on the wedding venue’s primary display screens. Once the preparation was complete, I lay down on the bed. I was no longer a victim; I was a blade waiting to be drawn. The morning of the wedding arrived. At six in the morning, Harrison arrived to help me prepare. He opened the garment bag containing the twenty-thousand-dollar custom suit, held it against my frame, and froze. “Lucas… your arms…” The suit was a short-sleeved style, leaving my newly developed, bruised muscles visible. “Do not worry about it. Just help me cover them with makeup.” Harrison bit his lip, applying three thick layers of heavy concealer to hide the yellowing bruises. Once the suit was on, I turned to look in the mirror. The man staring back at me was strong and steady, completely different from the broken, paralyzed victim who had rolled off the roof in my past life. The old Lucas was dead. The man standing here had returned from the depths of hell. 4 At eight in the morning, the bridal car arrived. Isla stood by the limousine, looking stunning in her white bridal gown. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. I offered a warm smile, taking her arm as we stepped into the car. Wesley sat in the passenger seat, dressed as the best man. He turned around, offering a weak, gentle smile. “Lucas, you look incredibly handsome today.” He let out a soft, delicate cough. I shook his hand with a smile. “Thank you, Wesley. I know you are not in the best of health, so I truly appreciate you stepping up as my best man.” “It is my pleasure. Seeing Isla happy is all I care about.” Isla met Wesley’s gaze in the rearview mirror. It was a brief, silent look of mutual triumph and anticipation. The limousine pulled up to the Grand Regent Hotel. The venue was magnificent, decorated with floral arches and red carpets. Isla got out first, opening my door with a dramatic, playful bow. “Sweetheart, we have arrived.” I stepped out, taking her arm. As we pushed open the heavy doors of the grand ballroom, the guests erupted into thunderous applause. I scanned the room. The flowers, the lighting, and the tables were exactly as planned. But in the center of the stage, where the champagne tower should have stood, there was a professional octagon sparring ring. The perimeter was secured with thick ropes, and the floor was covered in heavy blue mats. Two pairs of boxing gloves hung from the corner posts. I turned to Isla, pretending to be startled. “What is this?” Isla patted my hand, her tone light and reassuring. “Do not worry, Lucas. It is an old custom from our hometown. The groom is supposed to have a playful match with the bride’s male best friend to bring good fortune to the marriage.” She stepped aside, and Wesley emerged from the wings, wearing an athletic jacket and holding his gloves. His voice was soft and gentle. “Lucas, Isla insisted on this. I could not say no. Do not worry, I have a very weak constitution. Just play along and keep it light.” Below the stage, the relatives began to cheer. “Get in there, Lucas! It is for good luck!” “Do not be a coward! Show us what you can do!” “Wesley looks like he would blow away in a strong wind, what are you afraid of?” The pressure from the crowd built, exactly as it had in my past life. I remained silent for ten seconds, then looked directly into Isla’s eyes. “I will do it.” Isla looked startled. “But on one condition,” I added, my voice carrying across the stage. “In case of any accidents during the match, we must sign a legal liability waiver first.” I took a document from Harrison and slid it toward her. The terms were printed clearly on the white paper. “During the sparring match, both parties agree to waive all liability for any physical injuries sustained. The injured party assumes all responsibility, and no civil or criminal action may be pursued.” Isla skimmed the text, a small, arrogant smile playing at the corners of her lips. She saw this as my final, desperate attempt to protect myself. Wesley snatched the pen and signed his name with absolute eagerness. Once the document was signed and handed back to Harrison, I turned to face the audience, slowly removing my jacket and the heavy protective gear beneath.

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