Category: English

The bomb disposal mission went south. Marcus, my husband and fellow EOD specialist, ripped the only blast shield right out of my hands and handed it to his first love, Skylar. I grabbed his arm, pleading desperately. But he just shoved me away. “You’re so selfish! You’ve got that revive system—what do you need a blast shield for?” “Skylar’s fragile, she can’t handle any impact. She needs both blast shields to be safe!” He had no idea. The system only gave me two revival charges. One, I’d used to save Skylar when I couldn’t say no to his begging. The other, I’d used last year to save him when he was dying on a mission. Today, I’m really going to die. When the bomb went off, the whole room went up in flames. The fire swallowed me instantly. The last thing I saw was Marcus using my blast shield to shield Skylar like his life depended on it. When I came to, I was a ghost, following Marcus around. He was holding Skylar’s hand—only slightly singed by the fire—blowing on it softly. “Skylar, your hand’s all red. We need to get you to the ER right now.” Hearing that, my chest burned like acid was eating through it—bitter, unbearable. Anyone watching would think they were deeply in love, that their bond was unbreakable. But this man was my husband of three years. He’d never looked at me with that kind of worry before. Skylar’s palm had a faint red mark, barely noticeable, but Marcus was panicking over it. Meanwhile, when I was burning alive, he didn’t even spare me a glance. Skylar looked spooked, her thin shoulders shaking a little. “Marcus, it’s just a scratch, I’m fine. Thank god you were there—otherwise I’d be in way worse shape.” “Scratch? What if there’s internal damage? I’m not leaving until a doctor clears you.” He grabbed Skylar’s hand and rushed out, his normally calm face tight with worry. Before they got in the car, our colleague Chloe stopped him, frowning. “Marcus, Rory never made it out of the site. Did something happen to her in the blast?” When he heard my name, Marcus’s face twisted in disgust. “What could happen to her? Selfish people like that value their own skin too much—she’s probably hiding somewhere.” “Move. Skylar can’t wait.” From the second the bomb went off until now, Marcus hadn’t asked a single thing about whether I was alive. Even when others worried about me, he still had to put me down. As his wife, I was nothing but a disappointment to him. Marcus shoved Chloe aside, ignoring the shouts behind him, and drove Skylar straight to the ER. The exam showed Skylar was totally fine—just a tiny red mark on her hand. But Marcus acted like she’d been stabbed, insisting the doctors wrap it up. Skylar looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Marcus, you still care so much about me.” Then she hesitated, softening her voice. “Is Rory okay without the blast shield? She did come to save me… if something happened to her, I’d feel awful.” Marcus waved her off. “Rory’s got that weird ability—she can’t die. You’re fragile, you can’t take any hits.” “She even tried grabbing the blast shield earlier, saying she’d die this time. So selfish. She’s got that ability to protect herself, but she tried lying to me. Probably just jealous I care about you so much. When she gets back, I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind!” By the end, Marcus looked furious—like I’d done something unforgivable. But I just wanted to live. And I wasn’t lying. That ability only gave me two shots, and I’d already used them both.

I wasn’t from this world. My mission was to marry Marcus. When we met, we were both new EOD techs. Back then, his girlfriend Skylar had gone overseas and dumped him. Marcus was a mess, and I was the one who helped him pull through. Three years later, we got married naturally, and my mission was done. As a reward, I got two revival chances and could stay in this world. By then, I’d actually fallen in love with Marcus. I thought spouses should be honest, so I told him everything—no secrets. I even joked, “No matter what happens, I can’t die. I’ll stay with you forever.” I never thought those words would be my death warrant. Not long after we married, Skylar came back. She cried a little in front of Marcus, saying her parents made her go overseas—she had no choice. Marcus bought it hook, line, and sinker. Like he forgot all the pain Skylar put him through. He started doting on her again—checking in on her every second. Then, when Skylar got into a car crash and was on death’s door, he begged me—pleaded— to use one of my chances to save her. Watching Marcus cry his eyes out, my chest hurt like hell. My husband was sobbing over another woman. How could I not be hurt? Not be furious? But I loved him. I couldn’t say no. So I used my first chance. Last year, after Marcus disarmed a bomb, the bad guys ambushed him—shot him right through the heart. The doctors said he was gone before he hit the ground. I couldn’t let him die. I didn’t hesitate to use my last chance on him. Before I activated the ability, that voice kept asking: “This is your last chance. Do you regret it?” I said, “No regrets.” After that, the voice disappeared. Back then, I thought Marcus’s thing for Skylar was just a phase. That with time, he’d come back to his senses and focus on us. I really thought we’d grow old together. But now, reality hit me like a ton of bricks. Marcus had always loved Skylar. And me? I was just fooling myself.

Skylar looked at Marcus, like she wanted to say something but held back—her long lashes fluttering. Marcus booped her forehead gently. “Skylar, you can tell me anything.” Skylar twisted the hem of her shirt, then took a breath. “Marcus, Rory’s the best EOD tech on the team. And with you helping her… how did the bomb go off so suddenly? Could it be…” She didn’t finish the thought, leaving it hanging—open to all kinds of assumptions. I was so angry I could’ve screamed. My hands balled into fists, and I wanted to slap her stupid. I was already dead, and she still wouldn’t leave me alone—trying to make Marcus think I was a monster. As a cop, I knew my job. I never let personal stuff get in the way of work. After six years working together, I thought Marcus would at least know who I was. But Marcus’s next words crushed that hope. “I knew it! The defusal was going fine—how else would it blow? That psycho Rory must’ve messed it up to hurt you! I’m gonna report her to Internal Affairs! She doesn’t deserve to wear a badge!” Marcus’s face was red with rage. If I were there right then, he’d probably slap me and call me every name in the book. All I felt now was bitter. Did I think I mattered more to him than I did? Or was Skylar just so important that he’d believe anything she said? Probably both. Six years together, and I couldn’t get an ounce of his trust. Now, in his eyes, I was just some terrible person. I still remembered our wedding vows. He said, “You’re not just my wife—you’re my partner. I’ll always trust you.” Now, one little comment from Skylar, and he forgot every word. I wondered—would he regret this when he found out I was dead? Marcus paced back and forth, all worked up, like he needed to punch something. He pulled out his phone and texted me: “Rory, you tampered with that bomb? I’ll make you pay for this!” “Don’t think I don’t know you can’t die—answer me right now!” Marcus stared at his phone. One minute, two minutes… no reply. Normally, I’d text him back immediately. Marcus’s chest heaved. “Fine—playing dead, huh? We’ll see about that!” He called a colleague at the scene. Before the guy could even say hello, Marcus snapped: “Tell Rory I know what she did! She’s getting written up!” The voice on the other end sounded worried. “Marcus, Rory never came out! The fire’s still going—we can’t get in. She might actually be…” Marcus scoffed. “She’s not dead. She’s just hiding ‘cause she’s scared of getting caught! Tell her that trick won’t work—she almost killed Skylar, and I’m not letting this slide!” He hung up angrily, muttering under his breath. Skylar’s eyes lit up for a second—like she was pleased—but then she softened. “Marcus, women get jealous sometimes. Rory probably just made a mistake. Let it go.” Marcus frowned. “Let it go? After your car accident, you’re still fragile. If it weren’t for the blast shield, you’d be dead! I’m not letting her get away with this!” Skylar hugged him tight, like they’d just survived something terrible.

When they left the hospital, Marcus used Skylar’s ‘injury’ as an excuse to take her straight to our house. As soon as she walked in, Skylar grabbed a pair of slippers like she owned the place—and even found the TV remote right away. She moved like she’d been here a hundred times—meaning Marcus had brought her over before. Marcus went into the kitchen to cook, rambling about Skylar’s favorite foods. In three years of marriage, he never cooked for me. Said he didn’t know how. I never minded—I did all the cooking anyway. Turns out, he just didn’t want to cook for me. Skylar smiled at him softly. “Marcus, I’ve missed your cooking so much.” During dinner, Marcus’s phone rang. It was Chloe—crying so hard she could barely speak. “Marcus, get here… Rory’s… she’s gone.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “Chloe, I know you’re Rory’s friend, but this is ridiculous. She can’t die—stop helping her lie.” Chloe paused, then sobbed louder. “Marcus, I’m not lying—Rory—” Marcus hung up before she could finish. “Rory’s taking this too far! Using death as an excuse? Unbelievable!” “Even if something happened, she can just revive herself! How could she die?” Skylar nodded. “She’s just jealous. I get it—women can be like that. Don’t stress.” Marcus slammed his fork down. “If she doesn’t apologize to you properly when she gets back? We’re getting divorced!” My chest felt tight—like I couldn’t breathe. When I begged him not to take the blast shield, I told him I only had two chances left. But he didn’t believe me. Thought I was just jealous of Skylar. Even when someone told him I was dead, he called it a lie—and threatened divorce. But that trick was done. After dinner, Skylar went straight to my bedroom—my and Marcus’s bed. The air felt thick, and they leaned closer… I wanted to run, but something kept me there—like I was glued to the spot. Right before their lips touched, Marcus jumped up. He forced a smile. “Skylar, your hand’s hurt. You should rest.” Then he practically ran to the guest room. I was confused. Wasn’t this what he wanted? The next morning, Marcus made a huge breakfast, left a note with instructions, and headed out like nothing was wrong. At the precinct, everyone looked at him like he was broken. He stopped a coworker. “What’s going on?” Before the guy could answer, Chief Miller called him over. Marcus frowned. “Chief? What’s up?” Chief Miller clapped him on the shoulder and led him to the morgue. “Marcus… I’m sorry.” Marcus laughed nervously. “Sorry for what? My family’s fine.” The Chief sighed. “The bomb yesterday… Rory didn’t make it. She’s in there.” Marcus’s smile froze. “Chief, that’s not funny. Rory caused the explosion—she can’t die. She’s just hiding.” The Chief’s face hardened. “Marcus! Rory was your wife—and a good cop! Don’t say that about her!” “Her body’s in there. DNA confirmed it. If you don’t believe me, see for yourself.” Marcus’s throat went dry. He stepped forward, but his voice shook. “Fine—I’ll see. It’s a trick. Rory’s just messing with us.” His hand hovered over the white sheet, trembling like a leaf. Slowly, he pulled it back…

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My wife, Stella Reed, and I resented each other for half our lives. She hated me for tying her down with marriage and kids, making her lose her chance to make it big in New York. I hated her for constantly partying, dumping her ailing parents and our two kids on me. When we both reincarnated, we locked eyes in the crowd, then turned and walked away from each other without a second thought. Hopefully, this time, neither of us will have any regrets. The day I finally confirmed my university application, my dad walked into my study, glanced at me, and nodded in approval. “Alright, son, with those SAT scores, you should go to a good university! Don’t spend all your time chasing after that Reed girl, what’s so great about her anyway?” My mom heard him from the kitchen, rushed in, pulled my dad away, and shot him a glare. “Keep it down. He knows what he’s doing.” I smiled, watching my parents leave, and suddenly felt a lump in my throat. In my previous life, I’d snuck out of the house late at night to go to the train station to find Stella. My parents, worried sick, went looking for me and were hit by a drunk truck driver. I never even got to see them one last time. I swallowed back my tears, moved my mouse, and clicked the final confirmation button on my university application without hesitation. In my last life, Stella, who I’d grown up with, suddenly declared she wanted to be a singer and move to New York to pursue her dream. But before that, she’d always said her dream was to be with me, and for us to go to the same university. For her, I didn’t hesitate to waste my incredibly high SAT scores, applying to the same average university she did. But two days before the acceptance letters arrived, she suddenly announced her plan to chase her dream in New York. Stella’s sick parents came knocking on our door, begging me to help them find their daughter. I went in my previous life. My parents, worried about me, chased after me and ended up in that car accident. When I finally brought Stella back, she heard her parents’ tearful accusations—that she was responsible for my parents’ deaths—and that she *had* to make it up to me. So they forced Stella and me to get engaged, planning for us to marry right after graduation. But then she got pregnant when I was just a sophomore, forcing her to take an early leave from school and rush our marriage. Pregnancy, childbirth, childcare—two years flew by. I was thrilled to return to campus, but then Stella’s parents fell seriously ill and came to live with us for treatment. Stella told me to be sensible. She said her parents had already worked so hard for her education, and now they were sick and needed care. As for her, she would, of course, go to work to earn money and support the family. Back then, for Stella’s sake, I didn’t mention that her meager monthly salary wasn’t even enough for the kids’ formula or our basic household expenses. Eventually, I had to sell our old house to cover her parents’ medical bills and raise our two children. But while I sacrificed my education and struggled to keep our large family afloat, she used her small salary to hang out with dubious friends. What little money she had, she spent on music, claiming it was to fulfill her dream. The pressure of the family choked me. After several failed attempts at communication, we started having massive arguments. She’d call me old-fashioned and useless, narrow-minded, claiming that if I hadn’t dragged her back, she’d be a big singer in New York by now. She even accused me of using my parents’ deaths to guilt-trip her into marrying me. I didn’t hold back either, calling her delusional! With that raspy voice, thinking she could be a singer was pure fantasy! When she brought up my parents’ deaths, I snapped. I lunged at her, wanting to shut her up, but she shoved me away hard. After that, Stella started deliberately staying out, and her parents, who rarely saw their daughter, blamed everything on me. They complained that I was insensitive and inconsiderate, always upsetting their daughter. They completely forgot how they’d begged me to find her in the first place. In that miserable life, I gritted my teeth, pinched pennies, and took on odd jobs to earn money to support the family. But the children I worked so hard to raise were never close to me. They were always much closer to Stella, who never did anything. I thought they’d understand when they grew up. I waited over two decades, until they were married with their own families. But they all vied to have Stella live with them, while they were cold and distant towards me. “Dad, you controlled us too much when we were young. We don’t want to hear lectures anymore.” “Mom’s dreams were crushed by you when she was young. Now that she’s older, we’re taking her to New York to chase them again.” “Grandma and Grandpa Reed were right, you just want everyone to live the life you plan. You’re selfish!” I never imagined my own children would say such things. I went home heartbroken, only to see Stella triumphantly packing her bags, bragging about how she was finally leaving me to live the good life. I’d slaved away for this family for over two decades, only to be branded selfish and controlling. Why did Stella get to be so carefree? She ignored her family and responsibilities, yet ended up being the open-minded mother in our children’s eyes? I lunged forward and pushed Stella down. She was stunned for a moment, then grabbed a vase and smashed it at me. “You dare lay a hand on me? I’ll kill you…” So our deaths were, in fact, the just deserts of our mutual fight. The moment we both fell to the ground, I prayed in my heart that if there was a next life, I’d never, ever meet Stella Reed again.

The day I reincarnated was the same day I finally confirmed my university application. Looking at my parents, who were still by my side, I vowed never to get involved with Stella again. After the SATs, parties were popping up left and right. My friends and I had just finished one when I spotted Stella not far away, laughing and chatting with her own group of friends. She wore a dress, her long hair draped over her shoulders, her eyes crinkling when she smiled, making her stand out in the crowd. “I heard Stella Reed isn’t going to college; she’s off to New York to be a singer!” “Wow, is that what they call ‘chasing your dream’ these days? If she becomes a big star, shouldn’t we get a few signed photos now, for future value?” “Alex, aren’t you and Stella childhood friends? You must know about her going to New York, right?” My friend nudged me, and my gaze happened to cross the crowd, meeting Stella’s as she casually turned her head. Her eyes landed on me, freezing for a moment, a complex, unreadable light flashing within them. Just that one look, and I knew: Stella had also reincarnated. “I don’t know. I have something to do; I’m heading back.” I turned away without a trace of lingering emotion. If she wanted to go to New York, let her. What did her life have to do with me? As the day of Stella’s departure approached, I playfully told my parents I missed Grandma and wanted them to come visit her with me. My parents, who always doted on me, packed our bags without a second thought and took me out the door. Just then, Monica Reed, Stella’s mom, opened her door and looked surprised to see us leaving. “Going somewhere?” My dad chuckled, “Alex misses his grandma. We’re staying a few days.” Monica smiled and nodded, watching us leave. I pretended to be nonchalant, but inside, I clenched my fists tight, not letting my emotions show. It was laughable that in my previous life, I believed Monica truly cared about me. Only later did I realize her motives were never pure from the start. She’d had her eyes on our house for a long time, which was why she worked so hard to push Stella and me together after my parents died. Back then, without my parents, I cried constantly. Gentle, good-tempered Monica took care of me daily, making me drop all my guard. Plus, I liked Stella, so I naturally agreed. Who would have thought they had been prepared from the very beginning? I took a deep breath, hiding the slight tremor caused by my anger, and cheerfully talked to my parents about Grandma’s new pony, though from the corner of my eye, I saw Stella’s hurried footsteps. Stella must have realized I’d also reincarnated, so her plan to leave home and chase her dream had to be moved up.

My parents and I had just arrived at Grandma’s house and were enjoying dinner when Mom received a call from Monica Reed. “Stella is insisting on going to New York to be a singer, she won’t go to college, she’s literally threatening to die if we don’t let her go to New York. Her dad and I can’t persuade her… Can Alex come back and talk to her? After all, the kids are close, and Stella listens to Alex!” The lines were almost identical to my previous life. Mom looked at me, a little conflicted. After all, at this hour, in the countryside, it wasn’t easy to get back. I calmly put down my forks and took the phone from Mom. “Aunt Monica, this is Stella’s own decision. I can’t interfere. Even if I did, she’d resent me. I think you should just respect her wishes!” I hung up decisively, and didn’t forget to block Monica’s number. My swift actions even left my parents speechless for a moment. It was Grandma who spoke first, telling them to eat. She mumbled that other people’s affairs were their own karma, and we shouldn’t interfere. I thought Grandma was absolutely right! After dinner, I squatted in the yard, stroking the soft head of a puppy, when my parents came over. “Alex, what’s been up with you lately…” Mom hesitated, “I just feel like you’re different.” Dad didn’t speak but looked at me worriedly too. Their gaze made my nose sting, and I wiped my eyes—there really were tears. “Mom, Dad, I had a dream.” I lied about having a dream, recounting all the events of my previous life. When they heard how I’d been manipulated by the Reed family after their deaths, Dad’s face turned as dark as thunder. They always believed me, especially since I started the story from Stella wanting to go to New York and Monica asking me to find her. They understood why I suddenly wanted to come to Grandma’s house and why I stubbornly refused to go look for Stella. “My poor boy, my suffering son.” Mom was always easily moved to tears. Even though she knew it was just a dream, she immediately pulled me into a hug, her tears falling onto my shoulder, her heart aching. Dad lit a cigarette nearby and made a decision. “Alex having this dream probably means their family and ours are just bad for each other. I’ve decided, we’re moving when we get back! Get away from them.” I hadn’t expected my parents to support me to this extent. My nose stung again, and I nodded, tearfully. At the same time, I hugged Mom tighter, feeling her warmth. We stayed in the countryside for half a month. I visibly got tanner and my body became more solid. When we went back, Grandma even packed a car full of food for us. We still had to live in the old house for a while before moving. The three of us had just reached our front door when Monica Reed from next door quickly opened hers, her eyes red from crying, with undisguised resentment flickering in them.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” Monica’s face was almost twisted with accusation. “Why didn’t you come back to help me find Stella?” Monica suddenly yelled, startling my parents. They clearly hadn’t expected her to be so emotional. I, however, watched her coldly. After being her son-in-law for over two decades, I knew better than anyone her talent for theatrics and twisting facts. My mom couldn’t stand it and was about to speak up, but I tugged her arm. “Let’s go inside. It’s not worth it.” Mom hugged me, shot Monica a fierce glare, but couldn’t resist throwing out one last line: “You can’t manage your own daughter and expect Alex to do it for you? What relationship does Alex have with you to do such a thing? You’ve got the wrong person, I’m telling you!” Once inside, my dad immediately started contacting friends to arrange house viewings for the afternoon. If things went smoothly, we might even move tomorrow. Mom and I sat on the couch, Mom patting my back distractedly. “It’s okay, it’s okay. We’ll be far away from them, very soon.” I leaned against Mom, humming in agreement. The speed of finding and moving houses was faster than I expected. Even faster was the university acceptance letter that had already arrived. This time, there was no Stella, no car accident. I happily went to school to collect my acceptance letter. When I got home, my parents were still discussing how much allowance to give me. We laughed together, so incredibly happy. Only occasionally would I still dream of my previous life, how I struggled to support a family on meager savings, enduring the complaints of Stella’s parents, the misunderstandings of my children, and the constant bickering with Stella, just to survive those years. Thankfully, I was starting over. Soon, the school year began. Standing on campus, my parents were also happy with my decision to choose this university. In my previous life, at this time, I had just finished my parents’ funeral, distraught, heading to that ordinary university with Stella. Whenever people asked about our relationship, Stella would instinctively keep her distance from me, then force an unnatural smile. She’d say I was her classmate, even though we were already engaged then. I shook my head, clearing away the extra thoughts, and went to the registration office with my parents. New school, new beginning. After my parents reluctantly left, I quickly adapted to the new environment, cherishing everything around me. The education I couldn’t continue in my last life because of childcare and family responsibilities now finally had a chance to resume. I studied harder than anyone. When I went home for winter break, I brought back scholarship money and what I earned from coding freelance gigs. I bought gifts for both my parents. Their eyes crinkled into slits as they smiled, praising me as their most successful son. That night, my parents teamed up to make a huge dinner. At the dinner table, we chatted about recent events, until Mom casually mentioned she’d seen Monica Reed a couple of days ago. “She and her husband were selling vegetables at the market. They were only barely getting by on their relief funds after being laid off…” My mom sighed wistfully. “I heard Stella signed with some company in New York. The monthly training fees alone are thousands, not including food and lodging. If she really succeeds, fine, but if not…” I lowered my head, picking at my food, but laughed mockingly inside. Stella wouldn’t succeed; I was absolutely sure of that. Stella was someone who couldn’t resist showing off. As soon as she signed with some obscure company, she posted it on her social media. But she was so caught up in the fact that a company signed her that she didn’t pay any attention to the company’s name.

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From the moment I could remember, I knew my family was struggling. So when I suspected I had a serious illness, my first reaction wasn’t fear. Instead, I carefully asked Mom and Dad, “What if… what if I have cancer?” They chuckled, dismissing it as my wild imagination, yet their voices were firm. “If that day ever comes, we’ll sacrifice everything to get you cured.” I tossed and turned all night, finally making up my mind—I couldn’t be a burden to them. But as I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills, I saw them laughing and chatting in their luxurious downtown mansion. In that instant, it all clicked. All these years, the “hard life” that forced me to be desperately “sensible” was nothing more than an elaborate act they had meticulously staged. They were just pretending to be poor. And I, I was truly dead… During a break between classes, my nose suddenly started bleeding. It took half a pack of tissues to finally stop it. Chloe, my deskmate, looked at my pale face and whispered, “My neighbor’s brother used to get nosebleeds like that. Turned out to be leukemia… His family spent all their money, but they still couldn’t save him…” I forced a smile, calling her a “jinx,” but my heart sank with a chilling thump. Lately, I’d been constantly exhausted. I’d be out of breath after just two steps in PE, and I had a bruise on my knee that appeared out of nowhere and wouldn’t go away. I desperately tried to tell myself not to overthink it, not to needlessly worry my parents, but the fear deep inside me was growing like wildfire. What if… what if it was real? I secretly went to the community clinic and had my blood drawn. The doctor’s face grew serious after reviewing the lab results. He couldn’t rule out a malignant blood disorder and urged me to get a comprehensive check-up at a larger hospital as soon as possible. My heart plummeted to the bottom. Clutching that flimsy lab report, my steps felt weightless, and I couldn’t even remember how I staggered back home. Mom, wearing a faded apron, was busy in the kitchen. Hearing the noise at the door, she called out, “Go wash your hands quickly! I made your favorite pizza today.” I frantically crumpled the lab report into a ball and shoved it deep into my backpack. A little later, Dad also came home. He looked utterly exhausted, taking off his old, threadbare jacket with frayed cuffs and slinging it over the back of a chair, letting out a long sigh. Mom brought the dishes to the table. A plate of salad, a pizza, and some roasted chicken – it was a rare feast. Dad ate quickly and hungrily, as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Mom ate while grumbling that pork prices had gone up again. I picked at my food, small bites, tasting nothing. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind, refusing to fade. “Dad, Mom…” I quietly called out to them, putting down my knife and fork. They both looked up. “What if… what if I get a very serious illness,” I stared at the food on the table, not daring to meet their eyes, “like cancer… what then?” The dining table fell silent. Dad’s hand, holding a forkful of food, froze in mid-air. Mom’s spoon “clinked” against the rim of her bowl. “What nonsense are you talking?!” Mom was the first to react, her brows tightly furrowed. “Children shouldn’t say such unlucky things!” “I mean, if… what if it happens?” I pressed on relentlessly, my eyes starting to sting. Dad put down his fork, his rough hand ruffling my hair. “Luna, don’t overthink things. Your job right now is to study hard. If that day ever truly comes…” He paused, then continued, “Don’t worry, Dad will sell everything we own, even bankrupt ourselves, to cure you.” Mom quickly nodded in agreement. “Yes, we’ll lose everything to cure you! Now eat, the food’s getting cold.” After they spoke, it was as if the topic was closed. Dad resumed eating, and Mom put a piece of egg on my plate. “Eat more, you need to grow.” I listened to their words, looking at their faded, old clothes and the simple meal on the table. “Sell everything we own…” “Lose everything…” I slowly picked up my forks, lowered my head, burying my face in my bowl. Tears suddenly welled up, dripping into my food. I quickly scooped a large mouthful of rice, swallowing it with my tears.

From the moment I could remember, I knew my family was struggling. The house we lived in was dilapidated, with peeling paint on the walls. Whenever it rained, the corners would leak, and fuzzy mold spots would grow. There wasn’t a single new piece of clothing in my closet; everything was hand-me-downs from my sister. The cuffs were shiny from wear, the colors faded from countless washes, but Mom always said they were still good and shouldn’t be wasted. She’d often stroke my head and sigh, “Your dad and I work tirelessly from dawn till dusk at our stand; every penny we earn is hard-won. So you need to be more sensible than others, okay?” Dad would also look at me with a serious expression. “You need to make us proud, study hard, so you can make all of Mom’s and my sacrifices worthwhile.” I clutched the frayed hem of my shirt, nodding firmly. Life was always tight. I never had pocket money. When my classmates bought snacks, stickers, or colorful pens, I’d just watch from the side. When they talked about eating pizza or going to the amusement park on weekends, I couldn’t join in, so I’d just lower my head and stay silent. When I was hungry, I’d chug hot water. My stomach would feel heavy and warm, and it wouldn’t feel so empty anymore. If I felt unwell, I never said anything, just endured it myself. Last winter, I coughed for a whole month. At night, I’d cover my mouth to avoid disturbing my parents, coughing until tears streamed down my face, but the next day, I’d still pack my backpack and go to school as usual. Mom and Dad always praised me, “Our Luna is the most sensible child.” Listening to those words, I couldn’t quite describe the taste in my mouth. Actually, I wanted to tell them things too. To say how itchy my throat felt, or that my sister’s old school bag was so worn out the strap was about to break. To say I also wished for a small slice of cream cake on my birthday. But I was scared. Scared that if I mentioned needing money, Mom and Dad would become even more tired. I was afraid to see the troubled look in their eyes, afraid to hear their sighs, afraid that my small wishes would become the final straw that broke them. At night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. In the darkness, my eyes wide open, the doctor’s grave face and my parents’ words about “losing everything” echoed repeatedly in my mind. As dawn approached, I finally made up my mind. If curing me meant completely ruining this family, pushing them to desperation, I would rather… rather disappear myself. Faint sounds came from outside the door; Mom and Dad were getting up. A moment later, Mom gently pushed the door open. “Luna, your dad and I are heading to the stand. Dinner’s warming in the pot; eat it before you go to school.” I lay in bed, murmuring a low “Mhm,” my eyes tightly shut, not daring to look at her. The door was gently pulled shut, and their footsteps gradually faded away. The house was terribly quiet, with only the sound of my own heartbeat. I slowly sat up, pulled out paper and a pen from my backpack, and carefully, meticulously wrote a letter to Mom and Dad. After finishing, I carefully folded it and tucked it under my pillow. I walked to the old cabinet, knelt down, and pulled open the bottom drawer. It was messy inside. I rummaged for a while before finding a small, yellowed pill bottle. I remembered Mom taking these when she couldn’t sleep when I was younger. Back then, she’d hidden the bottle carefully, stroking my head and earnestly warning me, “Luna, children absolutely must not touch these pills. If you take them… you’ll leave Mom and Dad forever.” I always remembered those words. Now that I was older, I knew “leaving forever” meant dying. If I died, they would be free. I went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, then returned to my bed and sat down. Twisting open the cap, I poured all the white pills into my palm. Looking at those tiny pills, Mom and Dad’s smiling faces suddenly appeared before my eyes. My nose stung, and tears splattered onto the back of my hand. Suddenly, I felt a little scared, and a little reluctant. But their smiles quickly faded, replaced by their perpetually tired faces from working day and night. I closed my eyes and told myself— I couldn’t be so selfish. Leaving was the last sensible thing I could do for them. I took a deep breath, shoved all the pills into my mouth, and gulped them down with the cold water. It was a little bitter, but soon, I felt nothing. I placed the empty bottle by my pillow, lay down, and pulled the covers over me. That heavy feeling in my heart seemed to vanish completely. The light outside the window grew brighter, and birds began to chirp. I closed my eyes, feeling so tired, wishing for a deep, peaceful sleep.

After a while, I seemed to “wake up” again, my body as light as a feather. Looking down, I saw another me lying peacefully on the bed, her face calm, as if she were just sleeping. Was I… already dead? But where was I supposed to go next? I didn’t know. I suddenly remembered Scarlett, my sister. The last time I saw her was during the holidays; she only stayed home for three days before rushing off. Yesterday, when I called her, I had barely said a few words before I heard a commotion on her end. Before I could finish, she abruptly hung up. Before I left, I wanted to see her one last time. As the thought formed, my surroundings blurred, and I found myself standing outside a bright coffee shop. Through the floor-to-ceiling window, I saw Scarlett laughing and chatting with a few friends. She wore a beautiful floral dress, her hair impeccably styled, a delicate cake sat before her, and her smile was radiant. My gaze fell on the brand-new designer bag beside her. I’d seen that brand at the mall and secretly counted the zeros on its price tag. But how could Scarlett… I leaned closer to get a better look when her phone suddenly rang, startling me. She walked to a quiet corner to take the call, and I followed. “Mom?” Her voice was cheerful. “Why are you calling at this hour?” Mom’s voice came clearly from the other end. “Has your sister contacted you recently? I feel like she’s been a little off these past two days…” “Oh, she called yesterday,” Scarlett’s tone was casual. “Said she wanted to buy some study guides and asked to borrow a hundred bucks.” “Study guides?” Mom’s voice sharpened abruptly, with unconcealed displeasure. “What books can’t she just tell us about? That child… I wonder what she’s really up to.” I instinctively lowered my gaze, a bitter ache in my heart. Actually… it was because I couldn’t afford the hospital check-up, so I was forced to lie to Scarlett. “Don’t worry, I didn’t give it to her.” Scarlett gave a sly smile. “I pretended I was swamped and hung up after a couple of sentences. Told her to ask you guys.” “Smart girl!” Mom’s tone immediately became serious, with a hint of warning. “Remember, absolutely do not give her money behind our backs. If I find out, you can forget about your family allowance! But speaking of which, you’re working now, you should learn to be independent…” “Oh, Mom—” Scarlett whined, drawing out her words playfully. “I won’t give it to her, alright? My salary barely covers rent, how am I supposed to buy things without the family allowance…” “Alright, alright.” Mom sighed helplessly, her voice softening. “Just be clever around your sister, and whatever you do, don’t give away the secret. That child is very perceptive; if she finds out, it’ll be a huge mess.” “Got it, thanks, Mom!” Scarlett grinned, hanging up the phone, then turned back to her friends, laughing as she chatted about a concert that weekend. My heart, however, was in turmoil. They were clearly hiding something from me. A thought flashed, and the scene before me instantly changed. The spacious living room was blindingly bright, the polished floor reflecting the fragmented light of a crystal chandelier, and a huge floor-to-ceiling window offered a panoramic view of the entire city. Where was this? How did I end up here? I looked around blankly, then saw a woman comfortably reclined in a massage chair, fiddling with a brand-new foldable phone. A man walked over, carrying two glasses of freshly squeezed juice, dressed in comfortable loungewear. I stared at their faces, and my mind exploded with a buzzing sound—wasn’t this my Mom and Dad? At this hour, shouldn’t they be at their market stand, busy beyond words? “Scarlett has always gotten everything she wanted since she was little, spoiled by us. Her mind was never on the right track. Now, Luna is also getting rebellious…” Mom complained, frowning. “She actually called her sister to ask for money, saying she wanted to buy some study guides. She didn’t even dare to ask us directly, she must be lying, afraid we’d expose her!” Dad set down the juice, comforting her. “Luna has always been sensible enough. Maybe she genuinely wanted something to buy; a small lie is understandable. Under our watchful eyes, nothing major can go wrong.” “That’s true,” Mom massaged her own shoulders. “It’s just that we have to go back to that dilapidated house for this act; it’s truly uncomfortable…” “For Luna’s future, let’s just keep going a little longer,” Dad stepped forward, massaging her shoulders, his voice gentle. “Once she gets into a good university, we’ll tell her the truth. She’ll be so happy.” Mom sighed heavily. “I hope so… As long as she doesn’t betray our hard work and good intentions, all this suffering will be worth it…” “You’re working so hard, my dear wife! I’ll cook dinner myself later, make you a few of your favorite dishes to reward you properly.” Dad dotingly offered the juice, and both of them smiled widely. Every single word pierced my ears, yet it carried an indescribable eeriness that I couldn’t process for a while. It was a long time before I slowly came back to myself. So, they were pretending to be poor. But I, I was truly dead…

I floated in the center of the opulent living room, staring blankly at them, my heart aching faintly, as if something was gently squeezing it. So all that tireless exhaustion, all that hardship of struggling for a living, had been nothing but an act they performed. And all the suffering I’d endured since childhood was just a calculated ploy, “for my own good.” In a daze, I remembered the designer belt I’d found under Dad’s bed, which he’d hastily snatched away and hidden, claiming it was a high-quality replica from a street vendor. I remembered the expensive face cream I’d seen behind Mom’s vanity mirror, which she’d said was a trial sample from a friend, not worth much. I remembered the large, floor-to-ceiling window that flashed by in the background during a video call with Scarlett; I’d asked if she’d moved into a bigger house, but she’d laughed it off, saying it was a colleague’s place and she was just visiting. It turned out that all those moments that had subtly felt off were clues to this elaborate deception. In this family, only I was like a fool, kept in the dark, living out their fabricated poor life, treading carefully. That sadness swelled like a tide, then slowly receded. What’s done is done. A stubborn illness like leukemia, perhaps even if they spent all their money, it wouldn’t be curable. Then, they truly would be forced to live that precarious, poverty-stricken life. At least now, they didn’t have to genuinely work tirelessly at a market stand, didn’t have to haggle over pennies. They lived so decently and comfortably, not struggling at all. I had nothing left to worry about. Thinking this, my heart felt much more at peace, and I began to float around the bright, large house with curiosity. Soft carpets, a huge balcony, all sorts of high-end appliances—things I’d only ever seen on TV. I floated into a room. The vanity was covered with bottles and jars, the closet door half-open, revealing racks of beautiful clothes. I recognized it at a glance; this was Scarlett’s room, as it was often in the background of her video calls. Then, I discovered another room. The walls were a soft pink, the curtains white with lace trim, and the bed was covered with a floral-patterned sheet. On the bedside table, there was a photo frame. The photo was of me, perhaps seven or eight years old, wearing that red plaid jacket my sister had passed down, smiling shyly at the camera. This room… it was prepared for me. My heart felt gently warmed by something. I lay on that floral-patterned bed. Although I couldn’t feel its softness, I imagined that if I could sleep here, it would be as comfortable as lying on a cloud. Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing the entire pink room in warmth. I lay there, watching, and my heart grew sad again. I knew I would never get to live in this perfect room, prepared just for me. Time passed, bit by bit. Suddenly, a phone rang in the room—Mom’s old phone. I floated over to see. The screen displayed “Ms. Davis,” my homeroom teacher’s name. Mom took a deep breath, answered the phone, and her voice instantly switched to that familiar, weary tone. “Hello, Ms. Davis? Oh, yes, I’m busy at the stand. What’s up?” Ms. Davis’s anxious voice faintly carried from the other end. “Luna’s mom, I’ve called several times! I’m glad you finally picked up!” “Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” Mom’s voice dropped a bit lower, with just the right amount of apology. “This old phone always runs out of battery; I just turned it on. Is there something happening at school?” “Luna didn’t come to school today and didn’t ask any teacher for leave. Is she home now? Is she feeling unwell?” Mom’s grip on the phone visibly tightened. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, and her voice involuntarily rose. “What? Luna didn’t go to school today?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “333655”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic

My boyfriend was a cop fighting human trafficking, but that’s why I became a target for the traffickers’ revenge. They tortured me until I miscarried, then sold me into the remote mountains. By the time I managed to escape, I was barely alive. Only to find out my boyfriend had fallen for the female reporter covering the investigation while on his way to rescue me. They became famous for the documentary they filmed about saving me. I heard it from her own mouth: he’d missed several chances to save me because he was busy caring for her when she was “sick.” When I finally broke down, she pushed me down the stairs. I opened my eyes again, back on the day I was kidnapped. This time, it’s your turn to be in the traffickers’ den. My limbs and mouth were bound tight with sticky, yellowish-brown tape. Butch ran a grimy hand over my cheek, a sick, satisfied grin stretching his face. “Your boyfriend cost us big time! Today, I’m gonna make him taste true misery!” “We just love girls like you – soft skin, tender flesh!” Last time, I was terrified. I screamed and struggled, fighting with everything I had. Butch just knocked me out cold, afraid of drawing attention. This time, I just stared him down, my gaze ice-cold, like it came straight from hell. Butch froze for a second, then shivered. “You bitch! What the hell are you looking at? Your eyes… they’re giving me the creeps!” Spike, the driver, seemed amused. He reached back and ripped the tape from my mouth. “Not scared? Not gonna scream?” I was scared. Scared of losing the baby in my belly again. Scared of dying. But these bastards? No. Not them. Butch hated my calm. He grabbed my throat, choking me, and shoved my face against the cracked-open car window. “I want you to see! See how desperate your boyfriend looks! Go on, look!” “He’s supposed to be so good at finding people, isn’t he?! I guarantee it! He’ll never find you in this lifetime!” A short distance away, Damian was frantically pacing, phone pressed to his ear, scanning for any sign of me. “Rory! Rory! Where are you?!” My heart gave a faint tremor. Today was the day I’d planned to tell him I was pregnant. But the moment I turned to buy a bubble tea, they’d drugged me, thrown me in the car. Butch saw my blank expression, and his imagined pleasure of revenge seemed to halve. Enraged, he squeezed my throat harder, pulling out his phone to record me. “Cry! Cry for me! Stop looking so damn blank!” “Damian, you big hero! Look who it is! You’re supposed to be so good at protecting women, aren’t you? But in the end, you can’t even protect your own! What kind of man does that make you, huh?!” He sent the video, then looked expectantly at Damian, who was just a block away. I subtly bit off a button from my shirt and held it in my mouth. A block away, Damian held his breath, tapped on the video, and his eyes immediately burned red. Butch savored Damian’s fear, slapping his thigh, laughing like a maniac. I just didn’t get it. How could Damian, who supposedly loved me so much, have fallen for someone else? A flicker of desperate hope, one I shouldn’t have, ignited within me. I subtly straightened, spitting the button out the window. I was a designer; the button had a unique pattern. Damian would recognize it instantly. My heart hammered. Risking a beating that could kill me, I screamed his name, my voice almost breaking. “Damian!” Butch violently clamped his hand over my mouth and nose, grabbing my head and slamming it against the car door. “Bitch!” Across the street, a familiar figure held up her phone, pointed right at Damian. “Mr. Damian! Hi! I’m Cassidy, a reporter. Could I get an exclusive interview with you?” Damian turned towards my direction, his brow furrowed in confusion. Cassidy pouted, looking all hurt. “Please, Mr. Damian! I’m just an intern! I just need to keep my job!” Damian impatiently pushed her away. “Stay away from me!” Cassidy crumpled to the ground, crying silently, a mix of hurt and stubbornness on her face. “My leg…” Spike slammed on the gas. I watched, my heart sinking, as Damian, true to his ‘gentlemanly’ nature, bent down and picked up Cassidy. Just like in my previous life, he missed chance after chance to rescue me, all because of her.

Butch sealed my mouth shut with tape again. He stomped on my body, for no apparent reason, then spat on my face. “Goddamn, I’ve never seen a woman like you! Did you crawl out of hell?! You’re acting like you’ve died once already! Do you even wanna live?!” I subtly curled my body, protecting the baby in my womb. Spike and Butch chatted casually. Discussing how much they’d sell the video of my rape for. They planned to send copies to the police and media, to completely humiliate Damian, the ‘anti-trafficking hero.’ Damian’s own mother had been trafficked. When they found her, she’d already given birth to seven children and been sold eight times. That’s why he’d teamed up with the police to fight human trafficking organizations. These traffickers hated his guts. But if they directly retaliated against Damian, it would spark public outrage, and they’d become the police’s top targets. So I became the sacrifice. Spike exited the highway, making several turns until we were deep in the mountains. I saw the familiar hills that had trapped me in my previous life, and tears welled up. Butch sneered. “Take a good look! This is the last time you’ll see the world in this lifetime! I hate your damn eyes! Old Man Jenkins just wants a woman to pop out babies, never said she couldn’t be blind! And digging out this girl’s eyes won’t stop him from getting laid!” They tossed me into a dusty shed. They stripped me of everything, waiting for the ‘client’ to arrive. In my previous life, I lost count of how many men assaulted me. All I heard, through a haze of pain, were Butch’s shouts, “Fifty bucks a pop! College student! Buy her outright for fifty thousand! Guaranteed to give you smart, beautiful kids!” I pressed against the wall, tearing my hands free with strength that almost dislocated my wrists. Shedding my restraints, I didn’t hesitate, scrambling out of the narrow window. This place… I knew it terrifyingly well. Because I’d escaped countless times before. I scaled the dirt wall, jumped into a sandpit to cover myself in grime, but then I heard an engine roar to life. I quickly hid. Cassidy, with her wide, innocent-looking-but-actually-dumb eyes, asked an old woman sitting by the village entrance, “Have you seen a woman? Average-looking, name’s Rory!” Damian quickly pulled her back, shaking his head disapprovingly. Sure enough, the old woman’s face darkened instantly. She slammed her cane against the ground. She yelled in a hoarse voice, “Outsiders! We don’t welcome outsiders here!” Men, women, and children from the village immediately rushed out, armed with farming tools. Damian saw the situation escalating. He didn’t even have time to close the door, just swerved the car around and sped off. I cursed under my breath. This screw-up meant the traffickers would move me immediately, drastically cutting down my escape time. I plunged into the thick woods without a backward glance. Night fell, and it grew cold. But I couldn’t risk a fire. Those traffickers were like bloodhounds; any anomaly, they’d sniff it out. I huddled in my clothes, bracing against the biting wind, perched in a tree. Suddenly, the crisp snap of a branch broke the night’s silence. My eyes snapped open. A hunched figure was cautiously peering around at the base of the tree. Adrenaline surged. I grabbed the iron bar I’d found and, without hesitation, leaped onto the figure, ready to strike. “No! Rory!” A dry hand clamped onto my wrist, where my skin was already tearing.

Damian was practically weeping with relief, holding me in a death grip. “Rory! I thought I’d lost you! Those bastards! I swear, I will make them pay for this!” “You’re so smart! I found the button you left, that’s how I quickly tracked down the car from the security footage!” Cassidy rubbed her sore shoulder, biting her lip in jealousy. Damian’s sudden affection threw me off. Had this second chance meant he hadn’t cheated? Hadn’t fallen for Cassidy this time? Or had he just not had the chance to abandon me yet? “Ow… my leg!” The instant Cassidy cried out, Damian let go of me, rushing to her side without a backward glance. The cold wind wrapped around me again, mocking my foolish hope. Cassidy practically lunged into Damian’s arms, “Mr. Damian, I don’t blame Rory! I’m a woman too! Who knows what terrible things she went through with those traffickers… I just got a little scrape because of her, but Rory, well, she lost her purity!” Damian’s hand, still on Cassidy’s swollen ankle, froze. His expression darkened. I gave a self-deprecating laugh, finding the whole scene utterly ironic. Damian had helped the police rescue many women and children. Almost every one carried psychological scars from violent assault. He always offered countless words of comfort, but deep down, I knew he minded it all. He minded the ‘damage.’ Or perhaps he only minded it if it happened to me? I touched my stomach, a cold sneer on my face. Cassidy wept weakly, “Mr. Damian, I’m so cold. Are we… are we not going to make it out of here?” Thanks to Cassidy’s idiotic move, Damian’s car tires were shredded by a spike strip, forcing them to go on foot. “My dream is to make a documentary, expose those traffickers’ vile deeds, protect more women and children… But I… I really don’t want to die here! Waaah!” “Don’t be scared! You’ll be fine! I brought you here, and I’ll make sure I get you back safe and sound!” Damian had rushed out, only wearing a thin T-shirt. He turned his gaze to me. “Rory, give your jacket to Cassidy.” I savored the nickname ‘Cassidy’ on his lips, a bitter taste. Here I was, just escaped from hell, and Damian offered no comfort, no hug. Instead, he wanted me to give my jacket to someone else. Zzzip— I zipped my jacket all the way up, hugging myself, my face a mask of refusal. Damian’s brows furrowed. “Rory, why are you being so cold? Cassidy wanted to come help rescue you! She’s just a kid, we have a duty to protect her!” Right, a ‘kid.’ I also had a duty to protect my child. “How much longer until the cops arrive?” My change of subject caught Damian off guard. “Our phones got left in the car, but they must know our movements!” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, a bitter, sarcastic sound. In the middle of the night, Cassidy got a fever again, and Damian held her all night. Day broke. Damian and I went ahead to scout. On the way back, I reached out to brush a bug off his shoulder. He sharply recoiled, disgust blazing in his eyes. Realizing his reaction, his lips twitched uneasily. “Rory, I think you’re being too harsh on Cassidy. I hope you can apologize to her.” I scoffed, ignoring him completely. But the moment I saw Cassidy hiding behind a tree, I snapped. “Are you insane?!” I kicked her.

The small fire and the snacks Cassidy was holding were instantly crushed under my foot. “If you want us dead, just say so!” Cassidy burst into tears. Damian, furious, splashed the water he’d just collected all over me. He rushed to hug Cassidy, his eyes filled with tender concern. “Cassidy, are you okay?!” Cassidy’s body trembled as she sobbed pitifully, “I… I was just worried about you, Mr. Damian, after you stayed up all night… I just wanted to make you something warm to eat, and that was my last bit of jerky! I’m so sorry! I’m so stupid!” Damian understood her ‘good intentions,’ his eyes flashing with tenderness. He turned to me, scolding me sternly, “Rory, you just ruined our only food. We might be stuck here for days now!” Suddenly, faint barks echoed from deeper within the woods. Damian and I exchanged a worried glance. He hoisted Cassidy onto his back without hesitation. But the woods were more treacherous than we imagined. Even though I’d been here before, the danger still sent shivers down my spine. Cassidy clung sweetly to Damian’s back, wiping his sweat and glaring at me with a triumphant smirk. She sweetly demanded an exclusive interview with him once they were out, and Damian chuckled, indulging her as he agreed. As if he’d completely forgotten I was even there. “Actually, my leg was hurt because of Mr. Damian, but now that he’s rescued me, according to those old myths, shouldn’t I… offer myself to him?” Damian subconsciously glanced at me. Cassidy bit her lip in frustration, her words dripping with venom, “Rory, your stare is kinda scary. Just kidding! I just admire Mr. Damian, that’s all. Were you stopping him from interviews before because you were afraid someone would fall for him? Well, you can’t stop me!” “But I am a little curious, Rory, how do you know this terrain so well? Could it be that you…” Damian caught on, giving me a suspicious look. “Watch out!” Damian, still carrying Cassidy, frantically looked at me, his legs sinking deep, “Rory! It’s quicksand!” Cassidy shrieked in terror, struggling desperately to get out, which only made both her and Damian sink deeper. I slapped her hard across the face, “Shut up! Quiet!” I took a deep breath. I couldn’t just stand there and let them die. Grabbing a thick, dry branch, I pulled Damian out first. The moment Cassidy stepped onto solid ground, she shoved me violently into the quicksand, a twisted smile on her face as she shrieked, “Ah! Mr. Damian! Rory accidentally fell in!” Suddenly, birds scattered, and the roar of dirt bikes echoed through the hills. “They’re here!” “Mr. Damian! We need to run! We’re out of time if we don’t go now!” I sank deeper, my eyes burning red, “Damian! Help me!” Damian’s lips trembled, his brows knotted, cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He let out a heavy sigh, finally speaking, “Rory, they want you. I can’t risk Cassidy too; she doesn’t owe us anything!” “Wait for me, I’ll come back for you!” Cassidy hopped onto Damian’s back, a radiant smile on her face, “Rory is so resourceful, she’ll definitely escape again! She doesn’t need anyone to save her!” The despair wasn’t a sharp stab, but a dull ache that spread through my entire body, slowly flaying me of all flesh. In my previous life, after I escaped, I still couldn’t believe Damian had truly given up looking for me. I foolishly showed up at their wedding to confront them. Cassidy’s family beat me up and threw me out. “You’re probably riddled with AIDS and syphilis! What man would want you?! Leave our Damian alone! He’s been more than decent to you! Don’t you dare disrespect him! Know your place, you bitch!” I thought of the baby in my belly, gritting my teeth, my bloodied fingernails digging into the earth. But the traffickers arrived too quickly, cornering them right there in the quicksand. “Damian! Hand over your woman! If you want to leave, you’ll have to pay a ‘price,’ won’t you?!” Cassidy shrieked in terror, “Rory’s right here! She can’t run!” Butch just shook his head, smiling.

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My own child hadn’t even arrived when my husband David posted a newborn photo on Instagram. The caption read: “It’s a boy. Mother and baby are both well.” Friends and family called to congratulate us, but I was completely lost. Then I zoomed in. I saw David’s hand, our wedding ring shining, around Serena, his first love. I was about to confront David when he deleted the post. He gave no explanation, no apology, not a single thought for me or our unborn child. I endured the painful contractions alone and walked myself to the delivery room. Two hours later, our daughter Lily was born. I posted a picture too, announcing mother and daughter were safe. The next second, David’s phone calls flooded in. But I ignored every single one. Perhaps my unanswered calls had enraged him. After the last one went to voicemail, David fell silent for two weeks. Then, one afternoon in the hospital, just as I finished feeding Lily, a flood of new notifications lit up my phone. It was Serena. She had sent five videos, each a perfect, curated glimpse of their new “family.” In every frame, David was looking down at the baby in his arms, his expression softer than I had ever seen. The scene looked like a perfect, happy family of three. In that moment, it was as if a thousand shards of glass had been driven into my chest. I looked at Lily’s rosy, innocent face. This poor little thing had never even met her father. My hand shook as I called David. He finally picked up on the fifth ring. “Our baby has a checkup tomorrow. You need to take us.” I heard a sharp, impatient click of his tongue. “The hospital provides transport. What’s wrong with using their service?” Yes, the hospital had a car service. A VIP service. He had sworn to me all the VIP suites were fully booked, that only a standard room was left. I had believed him. I hadn’t argued. And yet, just two days after I was admitted, his first love Serena was comfortably settled into a VIP suite one floor above. And I, his legal wife, had been made the fool. Thinking about it, the words I wanted to say died in my throat. What was the point? He wouldn’t listen anyway. I said nothing. David’s voice, thick with impatience, sliced through the silence. “Fine. I’ll be back, okay?” “When?” I asked. “Tomorrow! You’re so needy, you’ll jinx everything. If you keep this up, I swear I’ll divorce you!” I don’t know when it started. David had started holding “divorce” over my head like a blade. Back when we were dating, if I gave him the silent treatment, he’d trail after me for blocks, apologizing over and over. He changed, and so did I. I used to get furious. I used to grab his shirt and scream until my voice gave out. But now, I just felt so tired. “Oh, David, hurry! The baby needs changing!” A bright, feminine voice suddenly trilled from his end of the line. A second later, a sharp series of beeps. The call was cut off. The day we were supposed to go to the hospital, it poured rain. I called and messaged David from nine in the morning, but my efforts vanished into thin air. Clearly, he had lied to me again. During my pregnancy, my body was heavy and clumsy. Once, when I went for a prenatal check-up alone, I accidentally fell and started bleeding. Half-conscious, I remembered the nurse calling David for me. He said he’d be right there. But he didn’t show up until three days later. When I was discharged, he even blamed me for overreacting and wasting his time. After that, I contacted him less and less. We were the closest of spouses, yet we slowly became strangers. After the rain stopped, David’s phone was still unreachable. I hailed a cab to take Lily to the hospital. The doctor said the baby was thriving. But my own complexion was poor, and they suggested I get a check-up. I remembered the faint ache in my lower abdomen before giving birth; now the pain was becoming more pronounced. I glanced at Lily, sucking her hand contentedly in the stroller. I decided I’d come back next month. Just as I stepped out of the elevator. I ran head-on into David and Serena. Serena was in David’s arms, being carried like a princess.

“Clara! What are you doing at the hospital? You’ve put on so much weight I almost didn’t know you.” Serena clung to David, her eyes sliding toward me in a glance he couldn’t see, sharp with silent challenge. I had no interest in these games. Or perhaps I had played them too often before, and now felt nothing at all. I pushed the stroller past the elevator, my voice flat. “Just a checkup. I won’t keep you.” “Clara, don’t misunderstand! I slipped in the shower yesterday and broke my leg. David stayed with me all night and insisted on bringing me to the doctor this morning.” “If we weren’t practically family, he wouldn’t bother. But as a divorced woman, I need help. I have to rely on an old friend. If it bothers you, I won’t ask him again.” Serena’s eyes reddened as she struggled to get down from David’s arms. David patted her backside, his voice helpless yet indulgent. “You’re a mother now, still so playful!” Then, he stared at me coldly, his tone admonishing. “Clara, that’s enough. Serena is a divorced woman, she has no one to take care of her, and she’s younger than you. Can’t you be a little nicer when you speak?” I looked at David and suddenly laughed. “I’m practically a widow now, David. Do you want to find a man to take care of me?” David’s pupils flickered. I turned and pushed the stroller away. That evening, David walked in, his face frigid. “I just saw your calls. Standing you up was wrong, I admit.” “But you’re also being ridiculous. Why insist on my car when the hospital has its own shuttle?” Hearing him bring up the car again. I didn’t even look up as I said, “The hospital’s shuttle is for VIPs, David. I’m in a standard room.” The atmosphere suddenly fell silent. David, knowing he had no leg to stand on, pulled out a small, palm-sized box and placed it in front of me. “The room arrangement was my mistake. Let’s not talk about it anymore.” “Here’s a gift for you, an apology. See if you like it.” I opened the box, revealing a pair of cheap-looking earrings. At first glance, they looked like something you’d buy for ten bucks from a street vendor. They were a world apart from the gorgeous amethyst bracelet he’d given Serena for her birthday two months ago. Perhaps in David’s mind, Serena deserved the stars and moon, while I was left to catch the dirt he flung. I closed the box and put it back. David frowned. “You don’t like it?” I nodded at him. “No, I don’t. It’s cheap, I don’t care for it.” I used to worry about how hard David worked to earn money. Whatever little trinket he gave me, I’d accept without question. Even if he just bought a bag of fruit from the roadside, I’d be overjoyed. But back then, I didn’t know he was showering other women with lavish gifts, while being utterly stingy with me. Five years of marriage, and I didn’t even own one decent piece of gold jewelry. Seeing my reaction, David grabbed the small box and hurled it against the wall. The flimsy jewelry box shattered instantly. “I’m out there slaving away, providing for you, and all I get is your sullen face all day long! Do I owe you something?! This is such a damn jinx!” David pointed at me, his face contorted in a furious snarl. “If you insist on acting this way, fine. I won’t come back again. You can live alone!” I watched him play out his scene with cold indifference. When he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. I called out to him. “David.” David stopped his hurried steps and turned around, his face no longer as menacing as before. “See? If you acted like this from the start, wouldn’t it be easier? What’s with the temper tantrum?” “You don’t like the gift, right? Fine, I’ll take you shopping later.” “Now, go make dinner. And pack some up for Serena; she wants some of your homemade soup.” He prattled on and on. I waited patiently for him to finish before I spoke. “David, when you said you wanted to divorce me earlier, were you serious?” David froze for a moment. Then, he let out a cold laugh, tossing his jacket onto the couch. “Clara, what are you talking about? You want to divorce me?!” “Is it just because I let Serena stay in the VIP suite?” “I promised Serena that VIP suite ages ago. I can’t break my word to her for you!” “If you can put up with it, fine. If not, then divorce!”

I was about to agree. David turned and stormed out, kicking over a single armchair before he left. The loud crash woke Lily. I ignored everything else and rushed back to her room. I was determined to get a divorce. But every time I tried to contact David to discuss the arrangements, he was nowhere to be found. The day I was discharged from the hospital, I finally saw David. He was helping Serena move her things. Behind him, two nannies pulled 26-inch suitcases. Serena sat in the backseat of the car, holding their baby, completely shielded from the sun. The stark contrast to me, struggling to push and pull my own things, was glaring. But my mood remained unfazed. Perhaps it was the decision to divorce that made me feel surprisingly light. Serena saw me and greeted me. “Clara, are you going home today too?” “Why don’t we give you a ride? You have so few things, you won’t take up much space.” “It’s all David’s fault. I was only staying for 30 days, but he bought me a year’s worth of clothes, so now I have to take so much back. It’s exhausting.” Serena’s words were a complaint, but her eyes were full of smiles and undisguised triumph. I ignored her. That familiar, dull ache in my lower abdomen returned. I gritted my teeth against the pain and helped the taxi driver load my things into the trunk. Before getting into the car, I looked at David, who had remained silent. “Be sure to come home tonight. I need to talk to you.” Ten minutes later, I saw a photo of a property title deed posted by Serena on her Ins feed. Along with the ostentatious caption: “A childhood sweetheart is better than an ex-husband. As long as I have him, I’ll always have a home.” I stared at the bright red property deed for a long time. A bitter taste filled my mouth. David and I met in college. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven, that if we broke up, they’d lose faith in love. Later, I chose to accompany David to the big city to start our careers. Without money, we had to live in a basement apartment. Then, due to the terrible conditions, I fell seriously ill with a persistent high fever. David, a grown man, was so scared he cried and knelt beside me. He swore that all the houses he’d buy in the future would be for me, in my name. Men’s promises are truly as flimsy as farts. I screenshotted Serena’s post and sent it to my lawyer. I asked if she could help me reclaim that house. That night, David, predictably, didn’t come home again. I didn’t mind. But Lily cried for three hours before finally falling asleep because of the change of scenery. The pain in my lower abdomen started up again. I knelt beside the crib, taking a while to recover. The next morning. I asked Mrs. Henderson, our neighbor, to watch the baby and went to the hospital for a check-up alone. The doctor’s expression was grim. “Clara, you have a mass on your lower spine. We haven’t confirmed whether it’s benign or malignant, but given how long you’ve been in pain and the rate it’s growing, I strongly advise surgery immediately. Waiting could lead to serious complications.” After leaving the hospital, I sat on a bench by the roadside. My trembling fingers gradually steadied. I looked down at my medical report, a decision already made in my heart. Just as I was about to text the doctor to confirm the surgery time, a greeting suddenly sounded from in front of me. I looked up and saw Mike’s wife, a friend of David’s. “Clara, why are you sitting here? It’s so cold. Come up, David and the others are having lunch upstairs.” She was bold and enthusiastic, pulling me up with an undeniable force.

I thought about it and didn’t resist. It was a good chance to talk to David about the divorce anyway. The private room was buzzing with excitement; I could hear cheers from outside. The moment the door swung open. I saw David and Serena clinking glasses, their arms intertwined in a ‘lover’s toast’. Everyone in the room was eagerly cheering them on. “That’s not too hard a pose!” “David, why don’t you lift Serena up and do it again!” “Yeah!” Serena blushed, and David feigned a refusal. I watched the scene with cold eyes. Until Serena spotted me standing at the door and gasped. “Clara, what are you doing here? Oh, don’t tell me you’re spying on him?” “It’s not that I’m saying it, but Clara, you should occasionally give men a little space. Who can put up with you like this?” David frowned. “What are you doing here?” I stopped the person next to me who was about to explain. My gaze swept over David and Serena, and I slowly smiled. “If I hadn’t come, how would I have known you two were having so much fun behind my back?” “Clara, what are you doing?! Are you losing your mind?!” David yelled, his voice sharp. Serena proudly tilted her chin, deliberately flashing the beautiful amethyst bracelet on her wrist. No need to guess; it was definitely another gift from David. Someone yelled, “You haven’t finished your toast yet!” Serena picked up two glasses of wine, handed one to David, and held the other herself. Then she looked at me. “Clara, you won’t get jealous, right?” “We’re just friends having some fun.” My emotions were calm as I said to David, “If you drink that glass of wine, we’re done. There will be no coming back.” David’s answer was to lift Serena into his arms right in front of me. “Clara, stop making a scene. It’s just one drink. Who are you trying to threaten?” With that, they intertwined arms and drank their glasses. A round of enthusiastic applause erupted. “That’s guts!” “Our David is a real man!” I watched their intimate embrace, their intertwined hands, as my heart slowly turned to ice. The anger I’d suppressed for so long surged, becoming impossible to control. I grabbed the pot of scalding hot tea from the table and threw it at them. “Ah!” They both screamed. Serena, her face contorted with rage, rushed over and pushed me. “Bitch!” My lower back slammed hard against a nearby table, and the excruciating pain stole my breath. Before I could get up, David grabbed my hair, pulled me up, and dragged me in front of Serena. “Get on your knees and apologize to Serena!” My scalp tore with pain. My trembling fingers grabbed David’s pant leg, and I spat on him. “She’s the mistress! She doesn’t deserve it?!” David’s face contorted with rage. He backhanded me, once, twice-the coppery tang of blood flooding my mouth and nose. Serena wasn’t finished. She lunged forward and drove her heel into my stomach. “Ugh!” A trickle of blood escaped my lips. As the world dimmed, I thought I saw a flicker of panic in David’s eyes. With the last of my strength, I swung my hand and struck him across the face. “David, I’m divorcing you!”

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It was the third year of my terminal bone cancer. My ex-girlfriend, Detective Captain Evelyn Reed, stormed my cramped apartment with a squad. I relied on heavy morphine doses to get through each day. She watched me. I was covered in needle marks, twitching as I desperately reached for a pill bottle on the table. A cold sneer twisted her lips. “What, Liam? Seven years, and you’ve really sunk this low? A junkie? Where’s all that arrogance you had when you walked out on me?” Before she had even finished, I weakly pointed at the bottle, my hand trembling. “Officer… please… just give me the pills…” She scoffed, picked up the bottle, and walked into the bathroom. I heard the flush of the toilet. “You want them? Go beg for them in detox!” My body seized up with agonizing pain. She watched, unmoved, as I writhed on the floor, filming me. She said it would make a good warning video. “Set up the camera.” Evelyn ordered her team. “Get a close-up on him. I want every detail.” “This will make the perfect anti-drug PSA.” The flashlight beams flared, lighting up my sweat-drenched face. The pain in my bones was like a swarm of insects chewing through my marrow, an itch and a burn at once. I tried to claw at the sensation, but my nails only scraped the cold floor with a dry, grating sound. Evelyn crouched, her black baton jabbing under my chin and forcing my head up. “Look at you, Liam. Pathetic. Even a stray dog has more dignity than you do right now.” My vision swam. All I could see through the pain was the sharp line of her jaw. “Pills…” I forced the word out, mustering the last of my strength, and my hand fumbled for the hem of her trousers. Just then, a figure in a white coat entered the room. It was Dr. Marcus Thorne. The team physician, Evelyn’s trusted deputy, and my former closest friend. He glanced at me, his gaze lingering on the port scars along my arm-the legacy of years of chemotherapy, now mistaken for track marks. “My God, Evelyn, look at his arm.” Marcus cried out, feigning shock. “These are classic signs of long-term IV drug use. You can see the venous cord formation. His addiction must be severe.” I opened my mouth. I wanted to tell them they weren’t needle marks, but access ports for my chemotherapy. But my throat was a column of fire, too parched to make a sound. Only a raw, rasping gasp broke through. Evelyn absorbed Marcus’s ‘expert’ diagnosis. The last flicker of conflict in her eyes died, replaced by pure, unalloyed disgust. She brutally kicked my hand away from her pants. “Don’t touch me!” Her kick sent me rolling half a turn, slamming me into the corner. My bones collided with the wall, emitting a dull thud. A new wave of excruciating pain washed over me. “Announce it! Suspect Liam is getting a 24-hour live stream of his forced ‘purification’!” Evelyn’s voice echoed through the room. “Let everyone see what drugs can turn a once-promising person into-a husk, a shadow of his former self, a monster!” “Evelyn, this… this isn’t standard procedure!” a young officer beside Evelyn whispered, reminding her. Evelyn spun around, her voice thick with barely suppressed rage. “For drug dealers who repeatedly endanger lives and show no remorse, extraordinary measures are necessary!” “I want every potential addict to see this is their fate! The consequences? I’ll bear them alone! I’ll take full responsibility!”

As I teetered on the edge of consciousness, Evelyn’s search continued. She was meticulous, leaving no corner unchecked, determined to uncover all my “evidence” of wrongdoing. Finally, she kicked the bed aside and fumbled under it, dragging out a dusty metal box. My heart lurched! No! Anything but that! The things inside that box were more important than my life! “Don’t touch it!” I didn’t know where the strength came from, but I crawled toward her, scrambling on all fours. Evelyn paused, startled by my frantic behavior, then her eyes glinted with even deeper mockery. She easily kicked me aside and unlatched the box. Inside lay a tattered diary with worn edges and a police badge, carefully wrapped in a red cloth. Evelyn picked up the diary and casually flipped through a few pages. It contained my entries for every chemotherapy session, every surge of pain, every dose of medication. “March 7th, sunny. OxyContin, 80mg. Pain.” “March 9th, cloudy. Morphine injection. Hurts so bad I want to die, but I think I saw Evelyn on the street. She still looks so beautiful.” “March 15th, rainy. Increased dosage. My bones feel like they’re shattering.” She let out a cold laugh, holding the diary high for the camera. “Look at this! What is it? A junkie’s diary!” She loudly read out the line, “I think I saw Evelyn,” her voice laced with derision and disgust. “Ha, hallucinations from being high, huh? Still thinking about me? Liam, you absolutely sicken me.” With that, she tossed the diary directly into the trash can in the corner. Then, she picked up the police badge wrapped in red cloth. It was my father’s relic; he had been her mentor. Seeing the badge, Evelyn’s eyes turned stone cold. “You don’t deserve to keep this.” She stepped closer. “The son of a hero, living as a parasite. Is this how you honor your father’s memory?” I shook my head wildly, tears cutting tracks through the cold sweat on my face. “No… it’s not true…” But she ignored me completely, drawing a lighter from her pocket. Click. A cold, blue flame sputtered to life. She actually lit the diary on fire, right in front of me! She stomped on my outstretched hand, trying to snatch it back, grinding her heel down with brutal force. A sound like shattering bone echoed, and I screamed in agony. “Watch.” She forced my gaze as the diary blackened and curled into ash within the flames. “Why keep this? So the world will remember what a piece of garbage you were?” “Or do you want everyone to know that I, Evelyn Reed, was once with a junkie criminal?” The fire devoured the pages, a heat that seemed to burn inside my own bones. Marcus spoke up from the side. “Evelyn’s right. This kind of trash just pollutes the environment. Burning it cleans things up.” I lay on the floor, my hand pinned under her foot, unable to move. I stopped struggling, stopped crying out. I just watched the fire, silently, until it consumed the last page, leaving only a pile of black ashes. That diary was the last proof of my innocence left in this world. Now, it was gone.

The next day, as dawn barely broke. I was dragged out of my apartment by two officers, my arms wrenched painfully. Twenty-four hours of forced detox had left me without the strength to even stand. The double torment of bone cancer pain and morphine withdrawal had almost burned away my sanity. Outside, a dense crowd had gathered, a barrage of cameras blocking the narrow hallway, making it impassable. “That’s him! The drug addict!” “He looks so normal, so innocent… how can he be so rotten inside?” Evelyn, impeccable in her crisp police uniform, stood at the front of the crowd, her face grim as she addressed the cameras. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Liam Stone, the drug user we apprehended yesterday. A classic example of someone who fell into the abyss of degradation due to his own vanity.” The moment her words finished, someone in the crowd, I don’t know who, hurled a rotten cabbage leaf that splattered right across my face. More rotten vegetables and foul-smelling eggs followed. Someone even spat. In the chaos, the wig I wore due to chemotherapy was violently ripped off, exposing my bald scalp. “Freak! He’s bald!” The jeers and insults of the crowd washed over me like a tide. I stood there numbly, letting the filth drip down my head, soaking into my collar. Just then, an old, angry voice broke through the crowd. “What are you doing! Stop it! Don’t you dare bully him!” It was Mr. Peterson, my landlord. Wielding a broom, he struggled to push through the crowd, shielding me with his frail body. “Liam isn’t a bad person! He’s sick! You heartless monsters!” Mr. Peterson used his thin body to shield me from a fresh volley of garbage. I saw egg yolk and vegetable bits stuck in his gray hair, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, making it impossible to breathe. “Mr. Peterson…” Evelyn frowned, signaling to her team. “Get that old man away.” Immediately, several officers stepped forward, forcibly dragging Mr. Peterson away. Marcus quickly seized the opportunity, explaining to the camera with a’kind’ but condescending tone: “Don’t be fooled, everyone. Many drug users are adept at feigning pity to gain sympathy, especially from soft-hearted elderly people. We’re doing this for the old gentleman’s own safety.” The crowd’s emotions flared again. They pointed and jeered at the struggling old man. “Senile fool! Duped by a junkie!” “He’s probably an accomplice! They’re all in it together!” Mr. Peterson was roughly shoved, stumbled, and fell to the ground, his forehead hitting the pavement with a sickening thud. A trickle of blood already formed. “Mr. Peterson!” I shrieked, a raw cry escaping my throat. Evelyn walked up to me, and in a voice only we could hear, she threatened me. “See that, Liam?” “If you don’t want to drag this old man down with you, charged with’harboring and aiding a drug dealer,’ then you’ll cooperate. Understand?” My body went rigid. She was using the only person in this world who cared about me as a weakness to exploit. What else could I do? I could only hang my head, abandoning all struggle, letting the filth cover my entire body. In front of countless cameras, I stood like a condemned prisoner, trembling, utterly despairing.

I was taken to the city center plaza. Overnight, a massive, fully transparent glass enclosure had been erected there. Like a cage built to exhibit a monster. And I was the monster about to be displayed. I was shoved inside, and the surrounding floodlights instantly blazed, blinding me. Outside the glass enclosure, a dense crowd gathered, their faces filled with curiosity, contempt, and excitement. A forest of phones and cameras were pointed at me, live-streaming without interruption for twenty-four hours. Without morphine to suppress it, the bone cancer pain finally broke free of all restraints, exploding within me in an exponentially terrifying way. It hurt. It hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. It hurt so much I felt like I could hear my bones shattering, inch by agonizing inch. I started to roll wildly on the ground, curling up, trying every possible way to alleviate this inhuman torment. I even slammed my head against the unforgiving glass wall, dull thuds echoing through the space. I just wanted to pass out, or better yet, simply die. The crowd outside the glass enclosure gasped and jeered. “Look! He’s going into withdrawal!” “What a pathetic sight. Serves him right.” Evelyn stood outside the glass enclosure, a microphone in her hand. “Everyone, look. This is the devastation drugs wreak on humanity. Once you touch them, you lose all dignity, becoming a beast that only knows how to demand. This is the price of self-destruction.” Her voice, amplified, reached everyone’s ears, and mine. My consciousness began to blur with pain, and hallucinations flickered before my eyes. Evelyn outside the glass wall was no longer the cold, hard detective captain. She reverted to her appearance from seven years ago, wearing a white dress, standing in the sunlight, smiling gently at me, extending her hand. “Liam, don’t be scared. I’ve come to take you home.” “Evelyn…” I cried, reaching out to the phantom, using my last shred of strength to call her name. “Evelyn… save me…” My desperate plea, however, was seen by the crowd in a completely different light. Marcus instantly seized the microphone, his voice a blend of feigned regret and open contempt. “As you all witness, the suspect is in the grip of a severe drug-induced psychosis. The substance has utterly annihilated his will.” The entire internet absorbed his ‘expert’ commentary. The live stream’s chat erupted into an instant torrent of ridicule and abuse. “This guy is totally beyond saving.” The hallucination shattered, and boundless pain swallowed me once again. I finally couldn’t take it anymore, my vision went black, and I passed out. A bucket of icy cold water splashed onto my face, the biting chill instantly jolting me awake. The public spectacle of my torment continued. I don’t know how long passed. At the peak of another wave of intense pain, my body completely gave out. A warm gush erupted from my lower abdomen, soaking my pants. I had lost control of my bladder. In that moment, all pain, humiliation, and anger vanished. I was left only with endless numbness and desolation. My last shred of dignity was crushed into dust, utterly annihilated. In my fading consciousness, I felt the glass door violently shoved open. Someone burst in and seized me by the collar. Evelyn, a fury incarnate. “Liam! Get up! Stop faking it!” She was in a blind rage, her grip savage. A sharp, brittle crack echoed in the room. It was my collarbone, already hollowed by cancer, giving way under her violent shaking. Her motion ceased instantly. She stared at her hands, then at the grotesque dip in my shoulder, disbelief spreading across her face. How could a common junkie be so brittle that a simple shake would shatter bone? For the first time, her voice carried a sliver of barely-audible panic. “Liam… your bones…”

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The real Hayes daughter was back. Scarlett’s contract marriage was finally over. She had intended a graceful exit. Instead, she watched Asher Sterling, the man she had loved for ten years, hold another woman. His voice was cold and mocking. “You were merely a tool for our corporate alliance. Never fool yourself into thinking I could have feelings for you.” Asher permitted Blair to humiliate Scarlett. He allowed her, still feverish, to be forced into ice water. He left her in a burning ballroom, indifferent to her survival. It was only when Asher personally handed Scarlett over to a group of predatory men that her heart finally died. She disappeared into a quiet coastal town, changed her name, and vanished from his world. When Asher realized the woman beside him was not the same, he finally lost control and descended into a frantic search. But when he finally found her, all he saw was Scarlett standing beside another man. Her gaze was calm. She did not look back. As Asher’s wife for thirty-three months, Scarlett got the call. “The real Miss Hayes has fully recovered. heiress has recovered. She returns in fourteen days to reclaim her position. You will ensure a seamless transition. The agreed fifty million will be transferred to your account in full.” The call ended, leaving Scarlett’s hand trembling slightly. She could actually leave the Sterling mansion ahead of schedule. Three years ago, the powerful Hayes and Sterling corporations formed a high-stakes alliance, and their marriage was the talk of the town. At the crucial moment, the Hayes heiress suddenly suddenly fell gravely ill. The Hayes family moved quickly to suppress the news and tracked Scarlett down to a small foster home where she was volunteering. “This collaboration between our two families is vital. If you didn’t look so much like my daughter, do you think an opportunity like this would ever fall to you?” Mrs. Hayes scoffed, her eyes brimming with disdain. “A three-year contract. Once the time is up, you take the money and leave.” Scarlett never wanted to get entangled in this mess, but she had no choice. The night before the wedding, Scarlett stayed up, committing every detail of Asher’s preferences to memory. Afterward, she devoted herself to pleasing him and preserving the fragile alliance between their families. Knowing he often skipped meals while working, she sourced the freshest ingredients herself, preparing and delivering new dishes to his office each day. Aware of his late business dinners, she would wait for hours in the cold outside the restaurant, ready to drive him home the moment he appeared. Everyone said she was madly in love with Asher. He heard it all, yet his expression remained as cold as ice. Then Blair appeared. Rumor had it she championed charity worldwide, ate only vegetarian food, and exuded a gentle, angelic glow. Asher was utterly captivated by this glow. Overnight, it was as if Blair had stolen his soul. From then on, he had eyes only for her. He diverted substantial company funds into Blair’s pet charity projects. He even postponed critical board meetings, ignoring all opposition, just to drive her around the city in his luxury car, rescuing stray cats. To ensure Blair slept soundly, Asher did not return home for three solid months. Whispers began circulating within their circle: Blair was the real Mrs. Sterling. But Scarlett didn’t care. She just wanted to endure these two weeks. Then she would take her money and start a new life. … No sooner had the Hayes’ call ended than another incoming call flashed on her screen. Scarlett’s finger paused, but she answered it anyway. “Send some supper to the office. Cook it yourself.” Asher’s voice was detached, his command habitual. Scarlett, clutching a thermometer, steadied herself. “But we’re out of ingredients at home. How about I order from that place you love…” “If you’re out, go buy some.” Asher cut her off coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Blair’s stomach is sensitive; she can’t eat outside food.” Hearing Blair’s name, Scarlett understood instantly. When it came to anything about Blair, Asher was uncompromising, leaving no room for “discussion.” “Okay.” Scarlett didn’t argue, simply agreeing. After having the ingredients delivered, she spent two painstaking hours cooking Blair’s favorite dishes. The nanny, Martha, couldn’t help but feel indignant for Scarlett. “Oh, why would a sick wife be made to cook supper for another woman in the middle of the night?” “Mrs. Sterling, don’t you feel wronged?” Scarlett paused in her packing, then smiled faintly and shook her head. Compared to the freedom and money that awaited her, this was nothing. The late autumn wind was particularly biting. Being feverish, Scarlett made sure to wear an extra coat when she left. Urged by Asher, she reached his office as fast as she could. But she never expected it. The moment Scarlett pushed open the door, a bucket of ice-cold water splashed right over her. SPLASH! The freezing water rushed down her collar, and she began to shiver uncontrollably. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Scarlett. I didn’t realize you were right outside the door.” Blair spoke with an apology, but her eyes showed no genuine remorse. Scarlett had just wiped the cold water from her face when she heard Asher’s chilling voice from inside. “Alright, what are you waiting for? Get in here.” She bit down hard, walking straight in. Asher opened the food container, gently taking out the food, then carefully brought it to Blair’s lips. The tenderness in his eyes was almost overflowing. Blair smiled shyly, her cheeks flushed as she gazed at him. Scarlett stood by like a puppet, expressionless, still dripping wet. She watched Blair finish the food bite by bite, feeling the cold seep deeper into her clothes. As she collected the empty food containers and turned to leave, Asher’s voice stopped her. “Wait. I’ll have Michael take you to change.” Scarlett paused. “And have him stop at a pharmacy on the way back. Pick up some cold medicine for Blair. She might catch cold dressed like that.” A faint, wry smile touched her lips at his words. Why would Asher ever care about her? It was just a casual act of charity, nothing more.

After Blair drank the cold medicine, Asher took her home to the Sterling mansion, bringing Scarlett along too. Scarlett got out of the car, dragging her weary steps toward the front door, thinking she could finally get some rest. But Asher merely flicked his fingers. A towering bodyguard immediately blocked the entrance. “Blair had an argument with her family tonight and ran away. If we don’t take her in, she’ll have nowhere to go.” Scarlett nodded, indicating no objection. Yet the bodyguard remained firmly in place, showing no sign of moving. She looked up, a hint of confusion in her eyes, and met Asher’s chilling gaze. “Tonight, you’ll sleep in the yard.” Scarlett instantly sobered up, freezing on the spot. “Asher, it’s alright, let Scarlett stay… She is your wife, after all.” Blair gently held Asher’s arm, feigning concern. “Wife? Does she even deserve that title?” Asher sneered, his eyes filled with contempt. “I told you, our marriage is just a business arrangement. The only one I truly care about is you.” As he spoke, he stared intently at Blair. He wouldn’t spare Scarlett even a fleeting glance. Scarlett instinctively clenched her fists, her nails digging deeply into her flesh. The faint smile on her face had long since vanished. But remembering the Hayes family’s warning, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath. She silently told herself that she absolutely could not cause any trouble before she left. “Okay.” Scarlett lowered her gaze and nodded submissively. After Asher and Blair went inside, she found a relatively clean spot and lay down. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, she eventually fell into a deep sleep. In the middle of the night, heavy rain suddenly began to fall. The rainwater quickly soaked her clothes, and the cold penetrated to her bones. Scarlett was instantly jolted awake. “Boom!” A clap of thunder made her shiver, and she instinctively looked up. She vaguely saw the reflection of the second-floor bedroom. Asher was soothing a thunder-startled Blair, oblivious to the drenched Scarlett below. The next morning, he stormed in and found her shivering in the yard. “The bedding you sent,” he accused, voice cold. “Blair had an allergic reaction.” She forced herself to stand, shaking her head. “I didn’t send any bedsheets, and I don’t know what she’s allergic to.” “Don’t try to deny it!” Asher grabbed her wrist, his face completely dark. “You manage everything in this house; how could it not be you who sent them!” “So all your past indifference was just an act, waiting for me to lower my guard so you could seize this chance to get at Blair, wasn’t it?!” “It really wasn’t me…” Scarlett tried desperately to explain. But Asher waved his hand, ordering someone to forcibly drag her to the dining table. “Someone, make her drink these ten glasses of milk! Every last drop!” Scarlett’s face instantly turned ashen. She was severely allergic to milk; even a single drop would cause a rash, let alone this much… Scarlett struggled to stand, but two maids held her down firmly in the chair. Glass after glass of milk was poured into her mouth. A burning pain shot through her throat, making it almost impossible to breathe. After being forced to finish the ten glasses, Scarlett collapsed weakly against the table, immobilized by the pain tearing through her. Then, Asher’s icy voice reached her. “I’ve told you, the only woman I love is Blair. Remember that. Don’t fool yourself into thinking there could ever be anything between us.” With great effort, Scarlett forced her swollen eyes open. She managed one faint movement of her fingertips before darkness finally claimed her. She knew. She had always known Asher didn’t love her. And so, she had never allowed herself to yearn for his affection. But once, there had been a flicker of hope in her heart. Now, it seemed, that too was just a delusion.

After passing out, Scarlett had a very long dream. In her dream, someone gently wiped her forehead and carefully gave her cold medicine until the nameless fever in her heart was completely soothed. It reminded her of her grandmother, long deceased. She couldn’t help but murmur. “Grandma, don’t worry, I can leave soon…” “Leave?” A sudden male voice interrupted her. Scarlett’s eyes snapped open. It was Asher. Seeing Scarlett wake up, he immediately dropped the towel in his hand, his gaze as cold as ever. “Leave what?” His sharp eyes fixed on her. She forced herself to remain calm and explained, “I dreamed of being hospitalized a lot when I was little. I meant I wanted to leave the hospital.” Asher looked at her suspiciously but didn’t dwell on it. He tossed her a medical report. “The doctor says you’re fine.” Then, he pulled out an invitation. “Blair said she felt bad about you being out in the rain all night and invited you to her charity auction.” Scarlett lowered her eyes, recalling the Hayes family’s instructions, and obediently nodded. It didn’t matter. Only 7 days left, then she could leave. After changing into her evening gown, Scarlett went downstairs alone and saw Asher intently discussing details with Michael. Scarlett moved closer, only then realizing what they were talking about. Apparently, to surprise Blair, he had meticulously planned a grand fireworks display. As if sensing Scarlett’s approach, Asher dismissed Michael, then gave her a cold glance. “Let’s go.” After the rain, the city seemed even colder. The car sped along, and Scarlett instinctively pulled her coat tighter. Upon arriving at the auction, Asher directly took a seat in the front row. Blair, in a magnificent pink gown, stood on stage and smiled shyly at him. Their eyes met for a long moment, completely ignoring Scarlett standing nearby. The auction quickly began. Blair eloquently introduced each item, striving to instill the concept of “charitable giving” deep into everyone’s hearts. Asher stared intently at her graceful figure on stage, a faint smile playing on his lips, as if admiring a rare treasure. Two hours later, Blair finished her thank-you speech on stage. A burst of fireworks suddenly erupted above the outdoor auction. Not only did Blair’s name appear in the sky, but several dynamically changing hearts surrounded it. She gazed at the sky in surprise, then walked step by step toward Asher. “Asher, thank you for the surprise you prepared for me. I really love it.” Asher tightly held Blair’s hand, gently wiping away the tears at the corners of her eyes. “As long as you like it, everything I do is worth it.” With that, they embraced tightly, accepting the blessings of everyone present. “Miss Blair is truly blessed to have such a handsome, wealthy, and loving husband!” someone in the crowd exclaimed. Asher shook his head, looking directly into Blair’s eyes as he seriously replied, “It should be me who is blessed.” The crowd instantly erupted into louder cheers. Blair shyly lowered her head, but then unexpectedly caught sight of Scarlett in the corner, her expression subtly shifting. “Asher, Scarlett is still here. You shouldn’t say such things.” “She might… be upset.” Hearing this, Asher’s dark eyes immediately turned cold. “Why should I care about her?” Blair’s lips curved into a smile as she shot a covert, triumphant look toward Scarlett. Scarlett’s expression remained unchanged as she continued to sit quietly in her chair. He was right. There was no need to mind her. Because she, from the very start, had not minded either.

Dazzling fireworks danced in the deep night sky, as splendid as shooting stars. But an accident suddenly occurred. A firework, unexpectedly, fell onto the stage and violently exploded! The flames spread rapidly. All the electronic equipment was incinerated, and the entire venue instantly suffered a violent explosion! Guests screamed and scattered in all directions. Asher gritted his teeth, fiercely shielding Blair in his arms, completely oblivious to Scarlett nearby. The three were quickly surrounded by fire. Asher dampened his jacket with mineral water, tightly wrapped it around Blair, and moved toward the weakest point of the blaze. Scarlett looked around, then took a step, intending to follow. Suddenly, a metal frame behind her collapsed. Scarlett sped up, but a sharp pain shot through her back, forcing a muffled groan from her lips. She slowly reached out a hand, weakly calling out, “Asher.” But he didn’t look back. Instead, he scooped up Blair and rushed out of the fire as fast as he could. The smoke grew thicker, the fire raged stronger. Her last shred of hope was completely extinguished. Trapped under heavy debris, Scarlett remained motionless, slowly losing consciousness in the dense smoke. When she next awoke, the strong scent of disinfectant stung her senses. Scarlett instinctively opened her eyes. “You’re awake?” Following the sound, she saw Asher standing at the doorway, his voice detached. “Blair loves the lemon pie from 15th Street the most. Go buy some now.” “She was terrified last night, and I can’t leave her side for a moment.” With that, before Scarlett could even reply, he impatiently rushed back to Blair’s hospital room. Scarlett forced herself out of bed. Her face was pale, and the wound on her back still throbbed faintly. As she left, a nurse nearby couldn’t help but caution her. “Miss Scarlett, your wound hasn’t healed yet. Going out now could easily cause an infection!” Scarlett merely shook her head, insisting on leaning against the wall and walking out alone. Three hours later, Asher took the lemon pie, his brows instantly furrowed. “Why is it broken in half?” “Scarlett, are you deliberately trying to provoke Blair again?!” His face completely darkened, and he grabbed her wrist. Scarlett instinctively defended herself. “I didn’t. I was very careful, but I didn’t expect…” “Enough.” Asher’s face tightened, the anger in his eyes darkening. “Stop making excuses.” His voice was ice. He was about to speak again when Blair’s delicate call floated in from the hallway. “Asher, where are you?” Asher released her at once, shoving her back as he turned and strode out the door. Scarlett stumbled backward against the doorframe. The impact tore her wound open again, and blood bloomed across her white shirt. She bit her lip, enduring the pain in silence. After a moment, she pushed herself up and limped toward the infirmary. After calming Blair, Asher stepped out for her medicine and overheard two orderlies. “15th Street is a two-hour drive from here, and that place has a line out the door!” The other orderly shook her head. “Who would go that far? Mrs. Sterling must really adore her husband, going all the way there in her condition.” Asher froze, a slight frown on his face. A strange, unfamiliar feeling stirred inside him. Something he could neither grasp nor name.

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The QR code suddenly appeared on my wife’s neck. My curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn’t resist scanning it. What popped up was a 30GB file, packed with information on men from dozens of countries around the globe. My wife, Kelly, was a flight attendant, constantly traveling to different nations. Who were these men? I had a chilling feeling there was a dark secret hidden on her flights. So, when my company sent me on a business trip, I didn’t hesitate. I booked a first-class ticket on Kelly’s next flight. I pulled on a hat and a mask, making sure she wouldn’t recognize me. I planned to surprise her. My wife, Kelly, was a flight attendant with a stunning face and an almost perfect figure. Kelly and I had known each other for five years and been married for three. But our time alone, just the two of us, was incredibly rare. Kelly said she loved the feeling of flying. So, after we got married, I gave her plenty of freedom. We only saw each other on her two days off each week. As soon as I passed security, I put on my hat and mask, fully disguised, ready to give Kelly a surprise. Stepping onto the plane, my eyes immediately found Kelly. Even among a group of flight attendants, she still shone the brightest. She led me to my seat. Strangely, I noticed there weren’t many people in first class. Besides me, there was just an Italian man and two Frenchmen. And they all had an iced Americano in front of them. “Sir, what would you like to drink?” “I’ll take an iced Americano.” I deliberately lowered my voice. But for some reason, I distinctly felt Kelly brighten up. “Please wait a moment, it’ll be right here.” There were three flight attendants in first class. Besides Kelly, the other two were also quite attractive. Just as I was changing into slippers, a figure suddenly stumbled towards me. My hands shot out instinctively. A soft body fell into my arms. It was Kelly’s colleague. I quickly helped her up. “Are you okay?” “Thank you, sir. I was just clumsy. Do you need any other service?” “No, thank you.” My attention was completely fixed on Kelly at that moment. She swayed her hips, bringing over an iced Americano. But her eyes held a hint of anger. Crap, did I blow my cover? Then I realized her anger wasn’t aimed at me, but at the flight attendant who had just stumbled. “Moira, watch it next time. If you upset a customer again, I’ll have you reassigned to economy.” “I’m so sorry, Chief. My fault, please don’t do that.” Kelly had that much power? I was stunned. I never knew Kelly was a Chief Flight Attendant. “Then you’ll just have to ask this gentleman to forgive your mistake.” As she spoke, Kelly turned her gaze to me, handing the iced Americano to Moira. Moira’s face flushed. She half-knelt, her eyes darting away as she offered the iced Americano with both hands. “Sir, would you be willing to forgive me?” “It’s no big deal, of course, I’ll forgive you.” Taking the iced Americano, I took a big gulp, afraid of revealing myself, then closed my eyes and pretended to rest. Moira sighed in relief and followed behind Kelly. It wasn’t until the plane took off that I truly understood what that iced Americano meant!

“This flight will be ten hours, arriving at our destination at 8 PM.” As soon as Kelly’s announcement ended, the two Frenchmen stood up. Another flight attendant immediately approached them, saying in fluent English: “Gentlemen, the restroom is this way.” About half an hour later, the Italian man also stood up. This time, Kelly was the one to approach him. “Sir, the restroom is this way.” I had a strange feeling. People usually get up on a plane to use the bathroom. But typically, there are only two restrooms at the front of the plane. Could this plane have three? Another ten minutes passed. No one had returned. My confusion deepened. Was everyone having stomach issues as soon as they boarded? Just then, Moira suddenly walked over and knelt beside me. “Sir, please follow me to the restroom.” “Huh? I don’t need to go right now.” I paused, then asked, curious: “How many restrooms do you have on this plane?” Moira’s face turned red as she replied: “There are six in total. Four in first class, two of which are in the back.” That many? I was surprised. Maybe I just hadn’t flown many international flights like this. Half an hour later, the two Frenchmen finally returned. Their faces wore satisfied expressions. I couldn’t help but look at them with disdain. First class really did attract all sorts of weirdos. Just then, I felt a slight urge to pee. As soon as I stood up, Moira walked over. “Sir, the restroom is this way.” Wow, the service in first class was something else. I smiled and followed her to the restroom. Just as I was about to open the door, I heard some… *indecent* sounds coming from inside. My hand froze in mid-air. Who the hell was doing *that*? On a plane? Doing *that*? I frowned, turning on the faucet to wash my hands. The next second, the door opened. The Italian man walked out, adjusting his pants. “Your service was excellent. I’ll ask for you again next time.” “Thank you, sir.” Hearing his voice, I turned my head in disbelief. Kelly emerged right behind the Italian man. Her face was glistening with sweat, her makeup slightly smudged. Her uniform was also a bit wrinkled. Kelly’s black stockings were gone, but she seemed completely unaware. Instead, she snapped at Moira, who was standing behind me. “What are you waiting for? Are you just going to make the customer wait?” Moira shivered, grabbed my arm, and practically dragged me into the restroom. “Sir, I… I’m not very experienced with this. Perhaps you could take the lead?” My mind was reeling with a million thoughts; I barely heard Moira. “Then, sir, let me help you with your pants…” As she spoke, she reached out to unbuckle my belt. That snapped me back to reality. I pushed her away. “Is this what your ‘service’ means?” Moira’s face went pale, and she immediately dropped to her knees. “I’m so sorry, sir, I…” Before she could finish, I cut her off: “I’m not blaming you. Just tell me, what exactly *is* your service?” Moira secretly glanced up at me. “Sir, didn’t you order an iced Americano?” “What does that mean?” “An iced Americano means you get a flight attendant’s full, unconditional service.” My mind buzzed. The last shred of my illusions shattered. My breathing became shallow. I turned, ready to storm out. Moira desperately clung to me. “Sir, please! If you go out like this, the Chief will definitely think I provided poor service, and I’ll be reassigned. Please, please help me. Just let me serve you this once!” I turned back, staring at her coldly. “This is a crime, you know that?” Before Moira could answer, there was a sudden knock on the door. Then, Kelly’s voice came from outside. “Sir, Moira isn’t very skilled. I need to come in and guide her. May I open the door?”

“No, thank you. I’m not interested.” After a long silence, I heard Kelly’s footsteps receding. Moira’s eyes were filled with gratitude. “Sir, just let me serve you this once. Otherwise, I really can’t explain it, and I…” “If you don’t want to get reported, listen to me, understand?” I raised an eyebrow, pulled a pen from Moira’s chest pocket, took her hand, and wrote down a string of numbers. “I don’t like dealing with things at high altitudes. Contact me after we land.” With that, I pushed open the door and walked out. Back at my seat, a few of the foreign men looked at me with disdain. I ignored them, my gaze falling on Kelly, who sat quietly, resting. Why was she doing this behind my back? I wasn’t a billionaire, but I was worth millions. I could more than provide for her. Yet, after we married, she insisted on returning to work, and I didn’t force her otherwise. Who knew *this* was the kind of work she was doing! A mix of emotions swirled within me. If I divorced Kelly now, I’d lose half my assets and become the laughingstock of everyone. My mind raced. It would be hard to get solid evidence on the plane. And if I exposed myself and Kelly caught on, finding evidence would be even harder. So, I needed an inside helper. Moira, just now, was the perfect candidate. Now, I just needed to make sure I wasn’t discovered during this time. Soon, it was 8 PM. The plane was about to land. I slowly opened my eyes. Beneath my calm gaze was boundless rage. In just ten short hours. Kelly had gone with those three foreign men four times! Once, all four of them went together. I couldn’t even imagine what happened in there. All I knew was that when Kelly came out, Moira had to help her walk. At this point, I felt no affection for her. Only disgust and hatred. After we disembarked, as I waited for a car outside the airport. Kelly’s voice suddenly came from behind me. “Honey, how did you get here?” My body stiffened. She recognized me? I turned, ready to make an excuse to bluff my way through. But then I saw Kelly rush into the Italian man’s arms. And they kissed without inhibition. “Honey, I’ve been on my feet for ten hours today, my feet are so sore. Can you carry me to the car?” Next to the nearly two-meter-tall Italian man, Kelly looked incredibly petite. The Italian man fell for it completely. He scooped her up and carried her to a parked SUV. Through the car window, I could already see the Italian man’s hand disappearing into Kelly’s clothes. Hah. This was the wife I once cherished as my most precious treasure. If not for this trip, I probably would have died without knowing she was such a master of time management. She had me in one country, an Italian “husband” abroad, and even spent her flight time orbiting different men. How many more were there that I didn’t know about? My breathing became shallow. Just then, a bottle of water appeared before me. “Sir, have some water.” Moira was pulling a small carry-on bag. “Kelly only offers ‘service’ on the plane. Your hopes will probably be dashed.” “How did you know I was watching her?” Moira smiled. “Your eyes haven’t left Kelly since we boarded. Besides, almost everyone who orders an iced Americano in first class on *this* route is here for Kelly.” “She’s beautiful, and her ‘service’ skills are great. What man wouldn’t like that?” I took a deep breath and put my arm around Moira’s shoulder. “Where’s the nearest hotel?”

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Bruce ran out on our wedding—again—for his childhood friend, Claire. It was the seventh time. Grandpa Sterling handed me ten million dollars as an apology. But Bruce just sneered, “Grandpa, she’s not worth that much. You should invest that money in Claire’s gallery instead.” Grandpa Sterling looked at me, an awkward apology in his eyes. I wasn’t angry, though. Not one bit. I’d accepted that kind of compensation six times already. This time, I wanted something new. I pointed to Kevin, Bruce’s half-brother, the one Bruce hated most. “Give him to me instead. I’ll marry him!” Bruce probably forgot. Only the man married to me has the right to become the heir of the Sterling Group. Everyone was stunned, seeing I wasn’t joking. After all, this wasn’t Bruce’s first time ditching the wedding. Before, headlines screaming “Heiress Abandons Groom at Altar” had swept the trending topics, making my family, the Chengs, a laughingstock for half a year. Even then, I never suggested calling off the engagement. Grandpa Sterling rushed to soothe me. “Bruce is just confused right now. Please, just wait a little longer…” He called Bruce again. But before he could say much, Bruce cut him off. “Come on, Grandpa, stop trying to trick me. Aurora wouldn’t say she won’t marry me, no matter how angry she gets. Besides, I’m not breaking up with her. I’m just taking Claire out to relax, then I’ll be back.” Claire’s sugary voice chirped from nearby. “Bruce, I’m just helping you test her! If she’s willing to marry you after being ditched so many times, *that* will prove her love for you is real!” Listening to their blatant flirting, I forced a smile. “Are you really that confident I’ll wait forever?” Bruce seemed surprised to hear my voice. His tone faltered. When he spoke again, his voice softened. “Aurora, you know how Claire is. She’s always depended on me since childhood. She just can’t accept me getting married right now. Can we postpone the wedding again? Please? Once I’ve smoothed things over with her, we’ll reschedule.” Postponed six times. Wasn’t that enough? When Claire found out about Bruce and me, she immediately flew back and caused a huge scene. Bruce, stone-faced, told me right to my face that he only saw her as a sister. But later, for this “sister,” he turned me into the laughingstock of the entire city. Grandpa Sterling was furious. “The wedding starts in three hours! I’ve booked your flight; get your butt back here now! There are so many reporters outside, waiting for a show. Have you even considered Aurora’s situation?!” “I…” Bruce’s voice held obvious hesitation. My heart involuntarily trembled. But the next second, Claire clung to him, whining. “Bruce, the movie tickets are already bought! If you leave, I’ll just have some other guy watch it with me. After all, so many guys are chasing me!” “No way!” Bruce’s voice was laced with an angry impatience. When he spoke to me again, his words were full of helplessness. “Aurora, I really can’t get away right now. You’ve handled this kind of thing many times before, it’s nothing you can’t manage.” He said it so casually, as if the humiliation and mockery I suffered in front of the cameras were trivial, insignificant matters. A suffocating, dull ache pulsed in my chest, and I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. “Whatever.” Whether he came back or not, it no longer mattered. In his rush to be with Claire, Bruce didn’t catch the shift in my mood. “Good girl, don’t be mad. I even brought you a gift.” A photo popped up on my phone. A necklace, dangling from his fingers. Another one Claire had worn. My place, it seemed, had become her trash bin. I remembered the first gift Bruce ever gave me: a red ladies’ watch. Even though red was my least favorite color, I treasured it because it came from him. Until one day, I took it for repair and, through its serial number, discovered its previous owner was Claire. When I confronted him, Bruce showed no hint of guilt. “I’m terrible at picking gifts. Claire just helped me out. Don’t be so petty.” He claimed he couldn’t pick gifts, but everyone in the city knew. Every year on Claire’s birthday, Bruce would reserve the most expensive viewpoint, setting off magnificent fireworks visible across the entire city just for her. Jewelry typically found only in auction houses would flow like water before Claire, for her to pick and choose. The effort he put into me was less than one ten-thousandth of what he spent on Claire. Even now, he couldn’t be bothered to buy something new just to placate me. Claire, seemingly oblivious to the sarcasm in my voice, giggled. “Bruce’s gift to you? I picked it out, you know. Do you like it?”

Claire smiled triumphantly, urging Bruce to hang up. Grandpa Sterling looked ashamed. He couldn’t bring himself to persuade me to keep waiting for Bruce to come around. “Are you sure you want Kevin? His background…” I cut him off, looking directly into the intense, unspoken depths of Kevin’s eyes. Taking a deep breath. “I choose him.” My mom once mentioned she’d seen Kevin at an exclusive private auction. This illegitimate son was far more complex than Grandpa Sterling imagined. Love and leverage. I had to secure at least one. A new groom’s suit needed to be made, so Kevin and my wedding was set for a week later. Grandpa Sterling looked at me with complex emotions, letting out a long sigh. “On your wedding day, I’ll announce the change of the Sterling family heir.” With a new groom, other things naturally needed changing too. When I went to the jewelry store to pick new wedding rings, I unexpectedly ran into Bruce and Claire, who had just returned. Our eyes met, and the expression on Bruce’s face grew cold. “Aurora Cheng, you’ve really got guts. You actually managed to convince Grandpa to cut off my cards.” “I hate being forced to do things. Don’t think that just because I’m back, I’ll marry you.” A flicker of annoyance crossed his eyes. “Did you intentionally track my movements and come here to corner me?” Claire nudged him, pouting playfully. “She’s completely infatuated with you, Bruce! What kind of attitude is that?!” Claire, making no effort to hide their closeness, linked her arm through his and smirked at me, raising an eyebrow. “He’s just like that, don’t take it personally. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to train Bruce well before I hand him over to you.” Bruce allowed her to cling tightly to him, his expression full of indulgence. But in the past, when I walked with him, if I so much as tried to hold his hand, he would subtly pull away. “So many people watching. It feels… uncomfortable.” It turns out, he was only uncomfortable with *my* closeness. I took a deep breath, pushing down the swirling emotions in my chest. “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to marry me.” Bruce froze, a frown just starting to form, when the sales assistant walked over. “Miss Cheng, the wedding rings you selected are all wrapped up.” Bruce scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve already picked out wedding rings, and you’re still saying you don’t want to marry me?” He grabbed my hand. “Put it on. Let me see if it fits.” His voice suddenly stopped. His gaze fell on the faint ring mark still visible on my finger. His voice caught. “Where’s the ring I gave you before?” “Threw it away.” My tone was flat. The day I decided to cancel the wedding, I tossed it. It was the first gift Bruce ever gave me, with our initials engraved on the inside. He, usually so rebellious, had a rare blush on his ears as he fiercely pressed it into my hand. “I carved it myself. If you lose it, I’ll never forgive you.” But later, he was the one who lost it first. When I found his shattered ring in the trash, Bruce awkwardly rubbed his nose. “Claire was drunk and insisted on taking it off to look. I don’t know how it ended up like that. Just toss it. I’ll get a new one made.” But I waited and waited, and he never got a new one made.

Bruce frowned deeply, his gaze resting irritably on my empty hand. “Can you stop with the drama? I said I’d marry you, and I will. There’s no need for these little games.” Claire tugged at his sleeve, pouting childishly. “Bruce, this is the newest limited edition! I tried so hard to get my hands on one!” Bruce’s tightly furrowed brows relaxed, and he handed the ring box to her. “Then why don’t you try it on?” Claire’s eyes lit up, and she moved to open it and put it on. I grabbed Claire’s wrist, my voice already cold. “Has no one ever told you not to touch other people’s things?” I hadn’t even used much force, but Claire suddenly cried out in pain, her eyes welling up. Bruce panicked, pushing me away with a shove. My lower back slammed into a sharp table corner, the searing pain making my vision black out for a second. Claire, eyes red, accused me. “I just wanted to look! Why did you use so much force?” Bruce’s face was filled with concern. He roared at me. “She’s crying in pain! Aurora Cheng, aren’t you going too far?!” He completely failed to notice my pale face, a result of the intense pain. It was always like this. As long as Claire frowned, or shed a single tear. He would always, unequivocally, stand by her side. Pushing down the bitterness in my heart, I reached out. “That’s my wedding ring. Give it back!” Bruce’s face was grim. He shoved the ring box into Claire’s hand. “This style isn’t suitable for a wedding ring. Pick another one.” “Unsuitable”? What a joke. It was just another excuse to make me give in to Claire. And besides, I wasn’t marrying him. Why should his opinion on what was suitable matter? Just as I was about to tell Bruce about the change in the marriage arrangement, he scooped Claire up, impatiently cutting me off. “I don’t want to hear your excuses! If you keep targeting Claire, I’ll have to seriously reconsider our relationship.” Watching his determined back as he walked away, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Bruce, there’s no need. I’ve already made the decision for you. During the wedding preparations, rumors of Bruce and Claire traveling together were everywhere. Everyone was curious about my reaction. In our social circle, people had already placed bets, confident I would marry Bruce no matter how many times he left me. I heard that when Claire found out about the Sterling and Cheng families rescheduling the wedding, she bet all her savings, expecting to make a fortune. But this time, I feared she would lose everything. On the wedding day, I had just woken up when Bethany, my assistant, called in a panic. “Miss Cheng, it’s terrible! Bruce brought people to dismantle the wedding venue!” He could run out on our wedding, but he wouldn’t let me marry someone else? Suppressing my anger, I rushed to the hotel. Bruce was directing people to remove the flower archways. Before I could even speak, he launched into a furious interrogation. “Didn’t I say we weren’t getting married yet? What are you doing? Forcing a wedding like this? Claire was really upset about the ring incident last time. Until she gives her approval, this wedding isn’t happening.” I blocked a worker who was about to leave, my voice turning icy. “Put those things back.” Bruce’s face darkened. “Who dares?! Don’t forget, I’m the Sterling family heir! Even if she marries in, she’ll have to answer to me.” Heir? Ha. Bruce, you won’t be for long. Just as I was about to call the Sterling family to have them remove Bruce, Claire burst through the door, wearing a wedding dress. She twirled around, holding up the hem of her skirt, and whined to Bruce. “I just said it looked pretty, and you insisted I try it on. Now I have. If you dare say I look ugly, I’ll never forgive you!” Then, as if just noticing me, she said, surprised, “Aurora Cheng, what are you doing here?” I actually heard a hint of accusation in her voice. I scoffed. “Do I need to notify you to come to my own wedding venue? Are you going to take that dress off yourself, or should I get someone to help you?” Bruce’s face darkened. He pulled Claire behind him. “Aurora Cheng, don’t you dare go too far!” He destroyed my wedding venue, and she walked off with a wedding dress that took two years to make. And *I* was the one going too far? I looked at the security guards by the door and ordered directly. “Get them both out of here!” Bruce roughly grabbed my wrist, his eyes flaring with rage. “You haven’t even married into the family yet, and you’re already acting like a queen?” He violently waved his hand. “Take everything here, dismantle it, and burn it! Let her learn her lesson!” As an apology, the Sterling family had volunteered their staff to manage the wedding venue. These people didn’t know about the heir change and quickly moved to obey Bruce’s command. Seeing a worker carry a portrait out of the room, I shot up. “Put that painting down!”

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My sister was back in the hospital. This time, because I opened a window to let in some fresh air. Mom yelled at me outside her room: “We never should’ve brought you back! Your grandma didn’t teach you right, coming back just to bully your sister! If Chloe gets sick, you won’t live either!” Deep in the night, the house fell silent. A man dressed in black appeared, phasing right through the wall, heading straight for my sister’s bed. “Chloe Johnson, it’s your time. Come with me.” Chloe was sound asleep, but I was wide awake. I scrambled up from my spot on the floor, blocking his path to her bed. “You’ve got the wrong person. The one in bed is my older sister. I’m Chloe Johnson.” I glanced back at Mom, who was still asleep, a frown etched on her face even in her dreams. Maybe she’d be happier without me. I looked at the man in black. “I’ll go with you. But can you give me three days? I want to celebrate Mom’s birthday.” The man in black paused. “You’re willing to die in your sister’s place?” I didn’t hesitate, nodding hard. I looked back at Chloe in the hospital bed. Her face looked a little rosier, and even in her sleep, a faint smile touched her lips. Mom had told her three fairy tales before bedtime. As for me, I was curled up on the cold floor, not even daring to pull a corner of the blanket closer. “I’m willing. Anything to stop Mom from crying. Just three days. I just want to celebrate Mom’s birthday.” The man in black was silent for a long time before he spoke: “I agree.” With that, his figure vanished into the wall. I touched my wrist. A faint purple mark glowed there, slowly burning. This was my life’s countdown. I should have been terrified. But for some reason, a sudden sense of peace washed over me. Grandma Evelyn used to say that when people die, they turn into stars, watching over the ones they love most. If I became a star, would I finally see Mom smile at me? Just once would be enough. The sky was just beginning to lighten when a violent cough woke me up. I tried to get up, but my head spun, my vision blurred, and my forehead was burning hot. “What’s with all the coughing?” Mom stood over me, draped in her jacket, her face etched with irritation. “If you wake Chloe, I swear I’ll tear your mouth off!” Terrified, I clapped my hand over my mouth, forcing down the remaining coughs. Tears stung my eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Mom scoffed, her eyes full of disgust. “Get up already! Chloe will be awake soon and she’ll want pumpkin soup. Go make it now.” She turned and sat back by the hospital bed, her movements becoming incredibly gentle as she dabbed Chloe’s forehead with a wet cloth. I pushed myself up from the floor, swaying unsteadily. My knees ached like they were being pricked with needles from kneeling so long last night. I didn’t dare say I had a fever too. Last time I said my head hurt, Mom said I was faking it to avoid chores. If I said it again, she’d definitely get even angrier. I patted my pocket. There was a small, heavy coin bank inside. I’d been saving coins for a whole year since I came back from Grandma Evelyn’s, planning to buy a new backpack. My current backpack strap was broken, held together with a safety pin, and the kids at school always made fun of me. But it didn’t matter now. I wouldn’t need a backpack anymore anyway. I was going to use that money to buy Mom a birthday cake. Before, whenever Mom had a birthday, it was always Chloe who cut the cake, and the wishes were always for Chloe. I wanted Mom to make a wish for me too. Even if it was just an afterthought. Clutching the coin bank, I slowly shuffled out of the room. The hospital hallway felt so cold, chilling me to the bone. But as I looked at the purple mark on my wrist, a faint smile tugged at my lips. Three more days. I had to make them count.

Hospital elevators always took forever. Fearing the soup would get cold, I ran up the stairs instead. Nineteen floors. On each landing, I had to stop and gasp for breath, my lungs burning. Pushing open the door to the room, Dad was already there. He held a pink bag with the logo of the latest tablet on it. Chloe was propped up in bed, giggling uncontrollably, clutching the tablet. “Thank you, Dad! I love you the most!” Dad’s face was full of doting affection as he gently booped her nose. “As long as Chloe’s happy, and she gets well faster, it’s worth whatever I buy.” Mom was applying hand cream nearby. A warm, comforting scent filled the room – the smell of home. Only I felt out of place. I stood there awkwardly, clutching the now slightly cool soup. “You’re back?” Dad glanced at me, his smile fading a bit. He casually pulled a stale roll from a bag at his feet and tossed it to me. “Haven’t eaten yet, have you?” The roll was hard, hitting my chest with a dull thud that stung. I looked down. It was the cheapest kind, with a bright yellow discount label on the packaging. Close-to-expiration discount. On Chloe’s bedside table, there was exquisite Tiramisu and imported milk. Chloe and I were twins. She’d been frail since birth, so it was always taken for granted that all the family’s resources went to her first. Including Mom and Dad’s love. “Thanks, Dad.” I whispered, bending down to pick up the roll. It was good enough to have food to eat. Grandma Evelyn always said to be grateful for what you have. “Dad.” Chloe suddenly put down her tablet and pouted. “I want a cake from that bakery down the street. My mouth feels bitter.” Outside, the sky was dark and gloomy, and rain was pouring down. Dad looked out the window, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Chloe, it’s raining too hard. What if we wait until it stops?” Chloe’s eyes immediately welled up. “No way! I want it now! *cough, cough, cough*…” The moment she coughed, everyone panicked. Mom quickly patted her back, and Dad paced nervously. “Okay, okay, okay! Eat, eat, eat! Dad will go buy it right now!” Dad reached for an umbrella, but his gaze fell on me in the corner, and he froze. “Lily.” Dad called my name. “Your sister wants cake. Go buy it.” “Your mom and I need to stay with Chloe. You’re young and fast, a quick run won’t hurt.” I froze for a moment, wanting to say I wasn’t feeling well, wanting to say the rain was too heavy. But seeing the look in Dad’s eyes, all my words caught in my throat. “Okay.” I set down the roll I’d just bitten into and walked out into the rain. I didn’t have an umbrella. The only umbrella was by the door, but Dad hadn’t told me to take it. And I didn’t dare. The rain lashed down, making my head spin even more, the ground swaying beneath my feet. But I couldn’t stop. I was afraid the bakery would close, afraid Mom would scold me for being useless. The bakery down the street was three blocks from the hospital. The water was above my ankles, my shoes filled with muddy water. When I bought the cake, the owner, Mrs. Thompson, looked at me like I was crazy. “Little girl, no umbrella in this heavy rain? Where are your parents?” I forced a smile, but said nothing. I clutched the cake to my chest, shielding it from the rain with my body. On the way back, I ran too fast. I slipped in a puddle, my knee hitting the pavement hard. I anxiously checked the cake in my arms. Thankfully, the paper bag wasn’t torn, and the cake was fine. I breathed a sigh of relief, limping my way back. When I returned to the room, I was dripping wet. “What took you so long!” Mom hissed, keeping her voice low. “Walking so loudly! Chloe just fell asleep!” My hands, holding the cake, froze mid-air. Dad sat on the sofa, scrolling on his phone, not even looking at me. “Put it on the table. You’re soaking wet. Go dry off, don’t get Chloe sick.” No one saw my bleeding knee. No one asked if I was cold. I quietly left the room, huddling on a chair in the hallway, staring at the cake abandoned on the table. Chloe wouldn’t eat it when she woke up. The thing I’d risked my life to get would probably end up in the trash. Late at night, I looked at the mark on my wrist. A third of it was already burned away.

The third day was Mom’s birthday. My fever had gone down a bit, but my head still swam. The purple mark on my wrist was just a tiny sliver now. I went to the nurse’s station, pleading for a long time before Nurse Jenkins finally agreed to let me use the small staff kitchen for an hour. “Little girl, you look so pale, you should rest.” Nurse Jenkins gently touched my head, her eyes full of concern. I flinched away. I wasn’t used to anyone’s touch, even a kind one. “Thank you, Nurse. I want to cook Mom a meal.” “It’s her birthday today.” With all my remaining change, I bought groceries at the market. All Mom’s favorites. Grandma Evelyn taught me that the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach. I couldn’t win Mom’s heart. But I still wanted to try. The cooking smoke in the kitchen made me cough, and my hands trembled so much while chopping, I almost cut my fingers. But I cooked with extra care. Every step was meticulous. After the meal was ready, I packed the dishes into insulated containers and carried them back to the room. As I walked in, I saw Chloe leaning over the edge of the bed, trying to reach a water glass on the table. I quickly put down the containers. “Don’t move. I’ll pour it for you.” I carefully handed her the hot water. Weak from her illness, her fingers went limp, and she couldn’t hold it steady. “Ow!” The scalding hot water spilled, splashing all over my foot. Before I could even cry out, Chloe screamed first. “It’s hot! It’s so hot!” She instinctively clutched her hand, tears streaming down her face, even though not a single drop of hot water had splashed on her. This fragile, pitiful act was her most practiced weapon since childhood. The room door was suddenly flung open. “What happened?” Dad rushed in, saw Chloe crying, and the shattered ceramic pieces on the floor. Without thinking, he turned and gave me a powerful shove. “Your sister is already so sick, and you’re making her do chores?” The push was so forceful that I stumbled backward, falling heavily onto the scattered ceramic shards. A sharp, piercing pain shot through my palm, and blood gushed out, mixing with the hot water on the floor, a horrifying sight. “No, it’s not…” I opened my mouth, trying to explain. Chloe herself hadn’t held it steady, she asked me to pour the water. I hadn’t meant to burn her. But my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, unable to form a complete sound. Grandma Evelyn used to say, explaining is talking back. Kids who talk back aren’t loved. I looked at Dad’s furious red eyes, watched him carefully cup Chloe’s uninjured hand and blow on it. Something inside me shattered completely. “I’m sorry.” I lowered my head, my tears splattering into the pool of blood. “I didn’t hold it steady. It was my fault.” If I just admitted fault, this storm would pass, right? If I didn’t argue, Mom’s birthday wouldn’t be ruined, right? Sure enough, hearing me admit fault, Dad’s anger subsided slightly. “Get out of the way, don’t be an eyesore!” Enduring the sharp pain in my hand, I quietly got up and carefully picked up every piece of the shattered ceramic. Then I brought out the insulated containers. “Mom, these are the dishes I made. Happy Birthday.” Mom had just walked in. Seeing the scene, she frowned. But upon seeing the table full of dishes, her expression softened a bit. She didn’t scold me. During dinner, Chloe kept chattering to Mom. I sat in the corner, eating my cold, plain rice. Suddenly, a pork chop landed in my bowl. Mom had put it there. “Alright, stop looking so gloomy.” “It’s a good day today, you eat more too.” “This pork chop is pretty good, it reminds me of your Grandma Evelyn’s cooking.” Tears instantly streamed down my face. It was the first time Mom had ever praised me. I put the pork chop in my mouth. It was so salty, tasting entirely of tears. But I chewed it carefully, not even wanting to spit out the bone. This was probably the best thing I had ever eaten in my life. And it would be the last.

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