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I was born with the gift of motherhood—my body made to bear the heirs—but it was never enough for my mate. He despised my curves, calling me crude and disgusting, never once touching me with love. He turned to my cousin Dariya, a slender beauty, seeking to marry her and discard me as his second mate. Then, they cast me out. Accused of losing my purity, they threw me into the filthy streets, where I was beaten and left to die. But death wasn’t the end. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment my mate had chosen my cousin. This time, I would not be discarded. This time, I would rise. I would bear the Alpha’s children and become the Luna I was always meant to be. ChapterThe moon hung high in the ink-black sky, casting its pale glow over the forest as Mike’s cold, sneering words cut through the tension like a blade. “I’m going to take Jade as my Luna,” he declared, his amber eyes gleaming with triumph. “You, with your pitiful demeanor and unworthy airs, are unfit to stand by my side.” I stared at Mike before me, his towering frame exuding arrogance. His words didn’t just sting—they confirmed one undeniable truth: I had been reborn. My first life had ended in humiliation, crushed under the weight of this man’s schemes and disdain. Yet here I was, alive once more, and the rules of the game had changed. Mike’s brow furrowed as my silence lingered. “Jade is everything you’re not. She’s pure, delicate, and refined despite her humble origins. Her beauty could make spirits dance, her grace worthy of a mate’s crown. Unlike you, she will bring honor to this family.” I nearly laughed. His words were as hollow as the promises he had once whispered under the silvery light of our mating bond. Back then, I was naive enough to believe him. Back then, I had no idea that he had married me only for the wealth my mother had painstakingly amassed for my dowry—wealth that had made . “You think Jade’s better than me?” I finally asked, my voice cold, laced with something that gave Mike pause. He narrowed his eyes but continued. “She is better,” he spat, his voice hardening. “When I was struggling to lead during the famine, I had no choice but to borrow your family’s wealth. I saved lives with that money, yet now, with peace restored and the alpha himself promising me rewards, it’s time you made way for Jade.” He said it so casually, as if tossing me aside were no different than shedding a coat he’d outgrown. In my first life, my mother had doted on me, reminding me every day of my blessings. “Never let anyone know your worth until the right time, my darling,” she had said. “Once you have your mate’s heir, your place will be secure.” But Mike had never valued me. The moment he laid eyes on the riches accompanying my dowry, I became nothing more than a pawn in his schemes. “Jade may have your favor,” I said, my voice steady, sharp as steel. In my past life, after the famine relief was complete, Beta Mike wasted no time declaring his intent to marry my cousin Dariya and crown her as his Luna. Back then, I had refused to yield. He sneered at my protest, his voice like a whip cracking through my resolve. “Jade is your cousin,” he snarled, his golden eyes glowing with the dominance of his Beta rank, daring me to challenge him. “I’ve broken no vows by choosing her. Look at you—weak, repulsive, unworthy. If it weren’t for your family’s lands , I wouldn’t have so much as claimed you as my mate, let alone considered you fit to bear my pups. You should be grateful I’m even offering you a place as my second mate. Don’t overreach.” The venom in his words should have shattered me, but I had been weak then, just a lowly wolf clinging to the hope that love could bloom from duty. I believed that if I endured his scorn, humbled myself before his arrogance, and bore his heir, my place within the pack—and his heart—would be secured. Foolishly, I resolved to fulfill my role, blind to the cracks forming in my soul. That night, dressed in ceremonial silks dyed the red of blood moons, I stepped into his den. But as I pushed open the oak doors carved with runes of loyalty and protection, the sight that greeted me turned my world to ash. There, sprawled in the glow of the hearth fire, Beta Mike was entwined with my half-sister Dariya. Their shadows twisted and merged, a mocking dance of betrayal beneath the wolf sigils etched into the walls. Dariya’s cruel laughter echoed through the room as she rose languidly, draping herself in furs as if to shield her sin. Her lips curled into a smirk that bared her sharp teeth. “Sister,” she purred, her voice dripping with malice, “dressed like that, you look more like a desperate omega begging for scraps than a Beta’s mate.” Her words cut deep, but it was Mike’s silence that was the sharpest blade. He didn’t bother to defend me, didn’t look at me with even an ounce of guilt. Instead, his eyes held the cold triumph of a predator savoring its kill. What followed was a nightmare I never escaped. Mike cast me out of the pack lands, dragging me to the borders where the moonlight barely reached. “You disgrace the title of mate,” he growled, his wolf surging beneath his skin as if to emphasize his disgust. “Your impurity is an insult to the pack. You’re no longer welcome here.” With a cruel shove, he threw me into the outlawed territories, where rogues and feral wolves roamed, waiting to devour the weak. They descended on me like vultures, their claws tearing into my flesh, their howls a symphony of my suffering. I endured agony beyond measure, my wolf crying out for mercy as I was ripped apart. When I managed to crawl back to the packhouse, clinging to the faint hope that my mate bond would protect me, Mike was waiting. He condemned me before the gathered wolves, his Beta voice booming with righteous fury. “She has dishonored herself,” he declared, his words laced with lies. “Her betrayal and impurity are a stain upon this pack. I sever this bond and cast her out as a rogue.” And so, I died. Alone. Abandoned. Betrayed. While Mike and Dariya thrived, their lies building them a throne of stolen wealth and power. They became the pride of the pack, celebrated as the ideal pair, while I faded into the shadows, my name smeared and forgotten. But that was a lifetime ago. Now, standing before him, I forced a radiant smile onto my lip. “Beta Mike, you’re absolutely right,” I said sweetly, my voice as smooth as a wolf’s purr before a kill. “Dariya deserves the finest. The estate has grown old and worn; we must ensure it is properly renovated to welcome your new Luna.” Let him think he had won. Let Dariya step into this pack as if she were a queen. This time, I would play the long game. The lands he coveted, the wealth he believed was his, would become a noose around her neck. I would see her buried under the weight of debts so deep not even the moonlight could save her. And Mike? He would learn that betrayal had a price. Chapter

Mike looked at me with suspicion. “You agreed so easily? Back when I married you, you said you wanted a bond that would last a lifetime, one mate for eternity.” I hid a cold smile behind my sweet expression. He remembered those words, and yet he dared to do such a thing. His famine relief efforts may have earned him accolades, but I was born into the prestigious Riche Pack. My father’s family had generations of wealth built on commerce, and I knew better than to openly challenge him now. Suppressing the urge to strike him, I forced a dazzling smile. “Dariya isn’t an outsider. Marrying you is already a blessing for me. How could I not agree?” Mike’s eyes gleamed with pleasure, his gaze lingering on me with newfound desire. “Jade, we’ve been married a year, and yet we’ve never consummated the bond. Your behavior today pleases me. Perhaps I’ll spend the night in your chambers as a reward.” I resisted the urge to retch and stepped back delicately. “Unfortunately, it’s my time of the moon,” I said lightly. Mike’s expression darkened, irritation flickering across his face. “Don’t think I desire your coarse body. I was merely offering you pity. See to the preparations for Dariya’s welcome. That’s your responsibility now.” With a huff, he turned on his heel and left. That night, I caught a glimpse of Dariya sneaking into Mike’s study, staying until the first rays of dawn. I smiled coldly. These two vile creatures… This lifetime, I wouldn’t let them get away with anything. I meticulously reviewed the properties and assets my mother had gifted me upon my marriage, consolidating every estate and shop under my name. Then, I commissioned the most extravagant wedding supplies imaginable, sparing no expense. Dariya’s mother was a mere performer, a woman of no status, with no dowry to speak of. In our past life, they had coveted the wealth my mother had entrusted to me. They wouldn’t stop until they drained me dry. Did they wish for the grandest wedding the pack had ever seen? Very well, I would ensure they got what they wanted—but not without consequence. Beta Mike’s heroic relief efforts were well-known across the packs. When the time came to settle the accounts, who would dare demand repayment from an abandoned mate like me? Once the wedding arrangements were nearly complete, I excused myself under the pretense of praying for my ailing mother-in-law. I remembered from my past life that the Alpha of Silverfang Pack, Jason, had once fallen victim to an aphrodisiac in this remote temple. He had sought solace with a farmer’s daughter, a girl praying for her sick family. Poor and powerless, she became his Luna, but her inability to conceive left her cast aside, her spirit broken until she withered away. This time, I intervened. I found the young farmer’s daughter before the events could unfold and offered her a generous sum of werewolf coins, enough to cover her family’s medical expenses. Grateful, she left the temple with her blessings, unaware of the storm I was about to unleash. That night, I stayed in her quarters, waiting patiently. It wasn’t long before I heard the soft scuffle of footsteps and whispers outside the door. “She’s unmarked,” a shrill voice whispered. “No mate bond. She’s perfect. Quickly, bring the Alpha in. The effects of the drug are intensifying, and there’s no time to waste.” The door burst open, and they dragged in a man. His powerful presence filled the room despite the haze clouding his amber eyes. His pheromones, strong and intoxicating, left no doubt that he was Alpha Jason. The door shut behind him, and before I could react, his heated body was pressed against mine. The drug had consumed him, his wolf taking over as he growled possessively. His touch was rough yet oddly reverent as he pulled me into his arms. The pain was sharp, a tearing of flesh and pride. But I didn’t flinch. This was nothing compared to the betrayal I had endured in my past life. I let him claim me, mark me, and bind me in a way Mike never had. By dawn, Jason stirred. He sat up, his gaze falling on the crimson-stained cloth beside him. A satisfied smile played on his lips. “You… Who are you? I’m Alpha Jason of Silverfang. I marked you last night. Rest assured, you’ll be cared for.” I knelt before him, my voice steady as I met his startled gaze. “I am Jade, the eldest daughter of Tudor, a merchant of the Riche Pack. I was married to Beta Mike.” Jason’s eyes widened, the golden hue of his wolf flaring in disbelief. “You… You’re Mike’s mate? But you were unmarked—untouched!” I bowed my head, letting my voice tremble with carefully crafted vulnerability. “I used half of my family’s fortune to aid Beta Mike’s famine relief efforts. It was the only way I could secure the position of his mate. But he has always despised me for my appearance, never consummating our bond. Now, he plans to break our bond and take my cousin Dariya as his Luna. I fled here to escape a life of humiliation.” Jason’s gaze darkened, the air around him crackling with anger. “Mike dares to insult the mate bond? To cast you aside for another?” His voice was low and dangerous, his wolf’s fury palpable. Chapter

Alpha Jason pondered my words for a long moment before speaking. “Last night, you saved me, and for that, you’ve earned my gratitude. Your reputation as a dutiful daughter-in-law and your contributions to Mike’s so-called famine relief are known, though I was unaware it was your funds that sustained him. I will see to it that Beta Mike answers for his crimes. For him to spurn a beauty like you and steal your wealth to glorify himself—then take another as his mate—is unforgivable.” Jason’s piercing gaze settled on me, a flicker of curiosity mingling with admiration. “You should break the bond with him. But tell me, what plans do you have after?” I lowered my head, feigning shyness. My cheeks burned crimson, and I dared not meet his eyes. Alpha Jason’s expression softened. He stepped forward and, without warning, swept me into his arms, cradling me as though I were the most precious treasure. “Would you become my mate?” His voice dropped to a tender murmur. Tears welled in my eyes as I nodded solemnly. “I’ve already been claimed by you, my Alpha. My life belongs to you now.” Jason’s lips descended on mine, a kiss full of unspoken promises and fiery passion. When he finally pulled away, his gaze was steady yet conflicted. “But there is one thing you must know,” he said gravely. “I am cursed, unable to sire heirs. If you choose to stay by my side, when I leave this world, you will be required to follow me into the grave. Are you still willing?” I met his gaze unwaveringly, a sly smile hidden beneath my facade. “I am willing, my Alpha.” What Jason didn’t know was that after the tumultuous night we’d shared, his supposed curse would soon be lifted.Because I have a highly fertile body. Jason insisted on sending an elite guard to escort me back to Mike’s estate, both to protect me from harm and to ensure no one else dared claim me. As we entered the grand gates, laughter echoed from within the manor. I froze, recognizing the voices coming from Mike’s mother’s chambers. “Jade’s such a plain, cheap-looking thing,” sneered Mike’s mother. “She was lucky to marry Mike. Dariya, on the other hand, is a delicate flower, pure and slender. She’s exactly the kind of Luna this family deserves.” My fists clenched as I pushed the door open. The room fell silent as every pair of eyes turned to me. The family was gathered in celebration, their faces alight with glee. At the sight of me, Mike’s mother’s expression darkened. “Why are you back already?” she snapped. “Dariya and Mike’s wedding is imminent. Shouldn’t you be out praying? What are you praying for anyway? That you’ll magically become thinner?” Mike’s aunt, Sara, chimed in with a smirk. “Jade, Dariya will soon be the official Luna. You’ll be the second mate. You should show her the respect she deserves.” My gaze shifted to Dariya, who sat sipping tea, a picture of smug elegance. A wave of cold anger surged through me. I had devoted myself to this family for an entire year, caring for Mike’s mother, placating Sara, and managing the household. Yet all it took was Dariya’s waifish appearance for them to discard me like yesterday’s scraps. I didn’t reply immediately. Instead, I picked up a bottle of the exquisite werewolf wine I had once gifted to this ungrateful family. A single drop of this wine cost a fortune in werewolf coins, yet I had never tasted it myself. Now, I poured myself a generous glass and took a slow, deliberate sip. It was indeed excellent wine. The family gawked, stunned by my brazen disregard for their authority. Mike’s face twisted with outrage. “Jade! You’ve been my Luna for a year, and yet you’re always sulking with jealousy. Now, you dare to show disrespect to my family?” Before I could respond, Mike’s mother interjected, her tone sharp. “The estate is strapped for funds at the moment. Use Jade’s dowry to cover the wedding expenses. After all, what’s hers is ours. She’s part of this family now.” My lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Part of this family, you say? Funny, because it feels more like I’ve been your family’s personal bank. But no more.” My voice turned cold as I faced Mike. “I want to break our bond.” The room erupted in shocked gasps. Mike’s face turned an angry shade of red. “You can’t be serious!” “Oh, I’m very serious,” I said, my tone icy. “From this moment forward, not a single werewolf coin of mine will be spent by this family. And the fortune you’ve already squandered? Consider it a debt. If you don’t repay it, I’ll take this to the Council of Elders and charge you with misappropriation of a mate’s wealth.” Mike’s mother began to cough nervously, sending him a frantic look. Dariya’s smirk faltered as she gripped her teacup tightly. For the first time, they realized the tides had turned. I rose to my feet, the room silent in the wake of my declaration. “Enjoy your wedding,” I said with mock sweetness. “But pay for it yourselves. My wealth is no longer yours to abuse.” Chapter

Beta Mike slammed his goblet of moonsteel down, the thunderous crash silencing the grand hall of the Beta estate. His golden eyes blazed with fury, and the faint growl of his wolf rumbled deep within his chest. “Break the bond?” he snarled. “I merely wanted to bring your sister into the den as a mate, not cast you aside! And yet your temper flares like this? Do you still think you’re the sought-after Luna every Alpha dreamed of? With your broad build and tarnished name, if I hadn’t claimed you, what other wolf would have?” Dariya, draped in silken robes dyed in moonlit hues, leaned forward with a simpering smile. “Sister,” she cooed, her voice oozing false sympathy, “are you upset that Mike wants me as his luna? You can’t blame him. Your reputation precedes you in every pack. Remaining as his mate only drags the Beta lineage through the mud. If you’re resentful, perhaps it’s better for everyone if Mike casts you out.” Mike’s lips twisted into a cruel grin, his fangs glinting under the chandelier’s light. “That’s right, Jade. I’ll cast you out today. And don’t think you’ll walk away with your dowry. Every single werewolf coin, every silver-bonded heirloom your family brought to this pack, will remain here. You’ll leave with nothing but disgrace. That’s our law.” The werewolf laws were as unyielding as the full moon. If a mate was cast out under the Seven Grounds of Dismissal, her dowry stayed with the pack. I tilted my head, letting a cold smile curl my lips. “Cast me out? I am known across the territories for my loyalty, generosity, and strength. Tell me, Mike, on what grounds do you plan to justify such a decree?” Dariya’s keen eyes darted to my wrist as I adjusted my sleeve. Her wolf’s instincts caught the faint shimmer of a bonding mark hidden beneath the fabric. She leapt to her feet, pointing with an accusing claw. “She’s marked!” she screeched, her voice echoing off the walls. “Mike, she deceived you! You’ve never claimed her. That mark belongs to another male—she’s a faithless adulteress!” A collective gasp swept through the room. Mike’s face contorted with rage, his claws unsheathing as his wolf surged forward. He lunged at me, his hand raised high to strike. “You treacherous wench! Adulteress!” Before his claws could land, a dark figure stepped from the shadows—a shadow guard, cloaked in the sigil of the Silverfang Alpha. The guard’s glowing eyes held the unmistakable dominance of an Alpha’s decree. Mike froze. He wrenched his arm free, his sneer bitter and venomous. “So this is your lover, huh? Take them both to the river and drown them. You want the bond broken? Over my dead body!” A deep, resonant howl tore through the night, silencing the room. It was a howl that demanded submission. The guards at the gates parted, and the herald strode into the hall, a scroll bound in silver and sealed with the Alpha’s mark clutched in his hands. Mike smirked, leaning back as though victory were assured. “Alpha Jason’s herald? He must be here to commend me for my contributions during the famine relief. Perfect timing. I’ll make my case and restore my honor.” The herald unrolled the decree, his voice booming with authority. “By order of Alpha Jason of the Silverfang Pack: Beta Mike, who sought Jade’s bond under the sacred oath that he would not claim another unless she bore no heirs, has broken his vow. The mate bond is hereby severed. All dowry, including the werewolf coins and silver heirlooms bestowed by Jade’s family, will be returned in full.” The air seemed to crackle with the weight of the decree. Mike’s smirk evaporated, his face pale as his voice stammered, “H-how does Alpha Jason know the details of my household affairs?” The herald’s words sliced through his disbelief. “Furthermore, Beta Mike is charged with misappropriating famine relief funds, using Jade’s dowry to cover his theft. For this crime, he is stripped of his rank, his accolades nullified, and he will endure thirty lashes with the silver whip. The royal decree of his bonds with Jade is nullified, and she is free to claim her rightful place.” The room erupted into chaos. Mike dropped to his knees, his voice trembling as he muttered, “Alpha Jason knows… everything…” Chapter

The entire room fell into stunned silence. They’d rather believe their ears were playing tricks on them than accept the reality—an Alpha had declared a divorced woman as his Luna. To outsiders, my figure was too full, too lush to be considered the ideal beauty. Women like my delicate half-sister, Dariya—so frail they seemed they’d collapse with a strong breeze—were the coveted brides. Mike, however, refused to accept the truth. He believed Jason, the Alpha King, had lost his senses. Clinging to the Royal Herald, Mike shouted his grievances for all to hear: “Jade has defiled herself! She put shame upon me and dared to ask for break of bound! she is no fit Luna! And the culprit is here—this mongrel—punish them both!” The Herald, unimpressed, cast a disapproving glance at Mike before turning to bow respectfully to the Royal Guards flanking me. “Thirty lashes for Mike. You, Alpha Guard, will carry out the punishment immediately.” Without waiting for so much as a rebuttal, the Herald left to deliver the Alpha King’s decree. The Guard wasted no time. His wolves quickly began stripping Mike’s household bare, fulfilling every item on my carefully prepared list. “Luna,” the Guard said, bowing slightly. “We’ve accounted for every asset. The shops, the treasures, the furnishings… all claimed. However, Mike’s debt to you from the last two years is still one million seven hundred thousand Werewolf Crowns in silver. The gifts he sent on your behalf—rare wolf-bone carvings and starstone jewels—have not been fully reimbursed either.” Before his words even finished, the old matron gasped, clutching her chest. “What a curse upon our house! This gold-digging, soulless woman… my son is a Beta! He worked tirelessly during last winter’s famine! How can petty coins outweigh his noble sacrifices?!” I laughed softly. Coins? Oh, how little they knew. Mike’s so-called noble deeds were my plans, my resources, and his “sacrifices” nothing but a facade. As if sensing my thoughts, the Alpha Guard raised the whip. Each lash across Mike’s back was met with a satisfying crack, followed by the sweet scent of his blood. Dariya rushed to Mike’s mother, frantically fanning her, but even in her panic, she turned her venom on me.

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Juliette had always been foolish, trapped in the routine of sewing clothes, her heart lost in the past. Her childhood mate, Liam, repulsed her with his arrogance. On her wedding day, she made a grave mistake, marrying his best friend instead of him. Little did she know, that misguided union would awaken her—stripping away her foolishness. As Liam, the alpha, frantically searched for her, Juliette finally found clarity, discovering her true mate and realizing she was no longer a fool. The river that separated the two packs had always been a quiet reminder of the boundaries they lived by. There was the Serrin River Pack, known for its strength and leadership along the western shore, and the Serin River Pack, its eastern counterpart, known for its tradition and wisdom. The two packs shared so much—practically identical in culture and practices—that even their own people sometimes struggled to tell them apart. The ferry rocked gently on the water, its wooden frame creaking under the weight of its passengers. I huddled in the corner, clutching my small, embroidered bundle of belongings tightly to my chest. I could feel the ferry swaying with each passing wave, but all I could focus on was the harsh reality that awaited me back home. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be with him. As the sun dipped lower, casting a fiery red hue over the waters, I watched the ripples spread like gold dust. It was beautiful—so beautiful that I couldn’t stop myself from pausing. But just as the last bit of sunlight gleamed off the waves, the quiet chatter of the men at the far end of the ferry cut through my reverie. “Alpha still hasn’t taken a mate? He’s killing everyone with his indecisiveness,” one of them laughed, shaking his head. “No, no,” another corrected, “Our alpha has an arranged mate. Rumor has it the wedding’s soon.” A flicker of warmth bloomed in my chest, and my lips curled into a secret smile. It was me they were talking about, and they didn’t even know. It had been arranged when we were children, a promise made when we were barely old enough to understand its weight. Liam and I had grown up together, and as soon as I was old enough to wear lace and learn how to sew, it was decided I would be his mate. He’d always been kind—too kind, really. He gave me flowers, his favorite bites of food, and the best of everything. He cared for me in ways that seemed far beyond friendship. And when he drank that cursed sweet soup, he handed it to me, telling me to drink first, always. I drank it because it was for him. Because he was my Liam. But when the world turned dark, and I woke to the healer’s quiet whispers of “permanent damage,” I didn’t understand the depth of it. I was five. What did I know of forever? The elders, in their guilt, promised that when I turned eighteen, Liam would make me his mate in the full, sacred way. He would claim me, mark me as his, and we would be united. “Wait for me, Juliette. When you’re eighteen, I will make you mine,” he had promised, his hands gripping mine, his eyes filled with unspeakable affection. I waited. But when I was finally old enough—when I had waited long enough to finally say those words to him—I was met with nothing but coldness. Two years ago, I ran to him, so eager to finally share my joy. I was ready. “I can be your mate now, Liam. I’m ready.” He didn’t smile. He didn’t even look at me properly. His gaze was distant, almost disgusted. “You’ve got it wrong, Juliette. You wait for eighteen years, not just a few,” he sneered. His eyes flickered away as if I were a nuisance, not the promise he had made. As the rich, influential guests entered, including his best friend Garrick, Liam barely spared me a glance. “Liam, I envy you. Your betrothed is so quiet and refined, so well-matched.” I sat in the courtyard on a stone, trying to breathe through the pain that gripped my chest. I had loved him for so long. And yet, as the years went by, I wondered if I had been wrong. But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t angry. Not yet. There was still time. So I would wait. Even if it took another eighteen years.

The ferry swayed violently against the rising tide, the scent of saltwater mingling with the damp earth beneath my feet. My heart hammered in my chest as I clutched my embroidered bundle, my fingers trembling with each shift of the boat. As the boat drifted closer to shore, wedding music drifted through the air, full of joy and celebration. This is where I belong, I whispered to myself. This is where I belong. The ferry bumped against the dock with a low groan, balloons soaring into the air . The scene before me was beautiful—too beautiful. But then, my gaze shifted to the far end of the ferry, where a bride sat hunched in sorrow, her face hidden behind a veil. I approached her quietly, whispering, “Sister, why do you cry on such a joyous day?” The bride wiped her eyes, but didn’t respond. Her shoulders shook as she wept, her sobs muffled by the veil. I reached into my bundle, pulling out a small doll. “Here,” I said softly, offering it to her. “Take this. Don’t cry anymore.” But instead of calming, the bride’s sobs deepened. She looked up at me, her eyes wild with desperation. “I don’t want to marry him!” she cried. My breath caught. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice tight with confusion. She gasped, struggling to speak through her tears. “I’m not his true mate. Alpha ‘s real mate ran away. The clan leader forced me to take her place.” My stomach dropped. “No… That’s not true! Alpha is mine! He’s always been mine!” The bride blinked, her tears halting. Her gaze softened. “Then… you’re the one he’s meant to be with?” I nodded, a fire igniting within me. “I’ve been promised to him since we were children. I’m going to find him. No one can take my place.” Her face broke into a bittersweet smile. “Go. You must go. Don’t let anyone stand in your way.” Days later, the ferry finally reached the shore. And there, standing tall and proud, was Alpha —his scent thick in the air, rich with the power of his Alpha aura. My heart raced, beating in time with the rush of emotions that flooded me. As I stepped off the ferry, my veil fluttered in the wind, and I saw him. Taller now, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes, his eyes locked on me. His gaze was fierce, and a growl rumbled low in his throat. A growl rumbled in his throat, low and guttural. “My Alpha!” I called out. But before he could speak, a voice shouted from behind us. “Alpha! The outcasts are at the border! They’re trying to cross into our territory!” “Stay here,” he ordered, his voice rough with authority. “Don’t move. Go to the pack house. Lock the doors.” “But Alpha—” I protested, vailing under the vail. His gaze softened just a moment, but the urgency was undeniable. “I’ll return soon. I promise you that.” I watched him turn, his powerful strides taking him toward the pack’s heart. The Alpha was needed. His pack needed him. And I… I was left standing at the edge of his world, powerless. I whispered to the empty night, my voice carrying on the wind, “I’ll wait for you, Liam. I’ll always wait.” The hours stretched endlessly, the moon rising high in the sky, its silver light casting shadows across the land. Still no sign of him. His Beta sent word that Alpha was still engaged in the fight. My heart clenched. The pack was under siege, and there was nothing I could do to help. Alone in the small room, I stared at the firelight flickering and the chest of old clothes. My fingers traced the worn fabric—garments that had once been full of his strength, now faded, their seams frayed. I had to do something. I couldn’t be the helpless mate, waiting forever. He needed me. I would show him I was more than just a promise. I would be his Luna, in every sense of the word. I took a needle and thread, beginning to mend his clothes. Each stitch was a vow to him—quiet, but powerful. I will stand beside you, Liam. Always. The needle pressed through the fabric until the sky began to lighten, and I finally drifted into sleep, clutching the mended clothes. In the haze between dreams and wakefulness, I felt him—sitting beside me, his gaze burning through the quiet darkness. He moved quietly, tucking the blanket around my shoulders with care, brushing my hair gently, a touch that said more than words ever could. I heard the creak of the door as he stepped out, his boots barely making a sound. His voice, commanding yet soft, reached me from the hallway. “Grandmother arrives tomorrow. Remember her temper. Keep things smooth, for her sake.” I closed my eyes, feeling the ache of him already gone. My heart pounded. Every moment he was away, the pack was at risk. The rogue wolves—always circling, waiting for weakness. I wanted him beside me, to not leave, even if just for a moment. But the pack needed him. He was Alpha.

Liam’s claws dug into the wooden armrest, his chest tightening with every passing moment. His eyes never lifted from the papers scattered before him. His mind, however, was elsewhere. “Elena,” Liam growled, his voice low and dangerous. His gaze remained fixed on the reports in front of him as he heard her hurried footsteps approach. She came closer, but hesitated just at the door, taking a moment to gather her breath before entering. “Liam, Juliette… she’s—” Elena’s voice cracked, her words trembling. “What now?” he barked, the words sharp, dripping with impatience. “Another dress? Did she make some new foollish designs and expect me to praise her for it?” “No, alpha Liam,” Elena hesitated, finally stepping forward. “It’s… Juliette’s not at dinner..” Liam’s jaw clenched. Not at dinner? “She’s been missing since this morning. We’ve looked everywhere, but she’s—” Elena’s words faltered, her voice softening with a hint of unease. “Liam, she’missing. ” He stood abruptly, knocking his chair back as he glared at her. “If she wanted to skip dinner, fine. Let her. If she’s throwing some tantrum, let her starve.” Elena backed away, fear flickering in her eyes, but Liam wasn’t finished. “She’s probably just sulking. And if she is, she’ll learn her lesson.” As the evening dragged on, Liam couldn’t help but glance toward the door, expecting to see her there. Dinner came and went, but her seat remained empty. The smell of roast meat filled the air, but the weight of her absence crushed every bite. Liam’s hands clenched into fists beneath the table, his wolf pacing restlessly within him. Every time he glanced over at her chair, a sharp pang of longing struck him. After the meal, the sound of the wind howling outside seemed to punctuate the emptiness that had settled over the room. It was only after the last plate was cleared that the thought hit him like a thunderclap. She’s not coming back tonight. Where is she? He rose from the table, walking toward the window. The wind shook the panes, and in the pale light of the moon, Liam could make out his dresses swaying in the breeze, each one hanging like a silent, waiting ghost. Each one was stitched by her hand. Juliette’s work. His breath quickened as memories flooded him—the last time she’d been in danger, the last time he’d been too late to protect her. That human… The trafficker. Two years ago. He had barely arrived in time to stop the bastard from taking her, and yet… he’d failed her. “You’re not smart enough for this world, Juliette. How could you be so foolish?” “He… he told me he had the latest fabric,” Juliette whispered between sobs, her voice breaking on every word, “He said it was the finest cloth—something you’d love. I thought I could use it… to make you something new. Something special.” “Does it hurt?” he whispered, a distant echo of the moment when he’d seen her hands bleeding, the needle stuck deep in her skin. “No,” she’d said, smiling through the pain. “It doesn’t hurt, Liam. Wait until you see the dress I’ve made for you.” He growled under his breath. Liam’s dreams were plagued by Juliette. Every night, her face—tear-streaked, fading into shadows—haunted him. He woke with a jolt, heart racing. The moonlight spilled across the room, but it was too cold. “Alpha! Alpha!” a servant’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. Liam’s heart thudded. “Is she back?Tell him I won’t blame her, tell her I have chosen the date,” “No… Alpha, it’s the rings your booked for Garrick for his wedding gifts. They’ve arrived.” Liam’s chest tightened. He took the box, hands trembling. Inside, two rings—silver and jade, intricate, symbolic of bond and loyalty.

Juliette’s pov Liam’s absence dragged on, each day more unbearable than the last. I knew, as long as the Outcast was still on the border, he would not return. I sat near the window, stitching winter clothes for Liam, trying to focus on the rhythm of the needle. But Violet, the servant who usually styled my hair, broke the silence with a teasing smile. “Yesterday, the Alpha kept staring at the clothes you mended, but he refused to wear them,” she said, a playful lilt in her voice. Maybe he doesn’t like the style. “Go buy more fabric—something for Liam’s winter clothes.” Violet left, but as she did, I overheard the murmurs from outside. “She’s already thinking of special fabric, just days after marrying him. What’s next? Gold?” The voice was sharp and accusing. I leaned out to see who was speaking, only to find an old lady standing in the courtyard, her gaze cutting through the air. “Already scheming for better clothes?” she sneered, eyes narrowing as she took in my unfinished work. I stepped forward, meeting her gaze with as much grace as I could muster. “I am making clothes for the alpha,” I said, swallowing my nerves. Her eyes flicked to the half-cut fabric, and for a brief moment, something like approval flashed in her sharp features. “Making his clothes yourself, huh?” she muttered, her tone softening ever so slightly. “I suppose there’s some honor in that.” But then her expression turned calculating, the matriarch in her reasserting itself. “But clothes won’t solve anything here, child. You need more than fabric to survive in this pack.” She left. I swallowed the lump in my throat, but before I could respond, the door creaked open. Another servant, Grace, entered with two unfamiliar women carrying a heavy chest between them. “This is from some locals,” Grace said, her eyes darting nervously toward me. “They heard you were in need of fabric.” The chest was opened, revealing bundles of luxurious cloth, sparkling jewels, and a thick stack of notes. But something didn’t sit right. One of the women stepped forward, her smile too sweet, her eyes too calculating. She leaned in closer, her voice low but dripping with malice. “I’ve heard alpha… well, some say he has enemies in the pack. You could help us with that, right?” I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I glanced at Grace, who looked away uncomfortably. Liam had always forbidden me to get involved in the pack’s politics, telling me it was dangerous. But now, as his mate, how could I not? His enemies would target him. … Garrick had been so busy these past few days that he hadn’t had the chance to return home. His main worry wasn’t the weight of pack matters, but whether his grandmother approved of his new Luna. However, the servants’ whispers told a different story—despite her sharp tongue, the matriarch seemed oddly satisfied with his wife. The first day his grandmother arrived, she disembarked from her ship with a stormy expression. “I never liked that scheming Alice,” she declared. “You should’ve sent her packing ages ago.” By the fourth day, Garrick heard that his wife had been visiting his grandmother’s quarters daily, chattering endlessly. “Your mate is like a sparrow,” his grandmother complained through a messenger. “Chirping on and on until my head spins. I have no patience for her.” On the fifth day, the tone of her message changed. “…She’s got a knack for handiwork,” was all she said. By the sixth day, there was no message at all. Suspicious, Garrick sent someone to inquire. His grandmother dismissed the servant with a cryptic reply. “What’s between me and your Luna is none of your business, boy. Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Garrick allowed himself a rare chuckle, feeling a weight lift from his chest as the matriarch seemed to have found some grudging respect for his wife. But the relief was short-lived. His desk was piled high with unopened messages, one of which caught his eye—a message from his old friend, Alpha Liam, sent over a month ago. He opened his phone and read it during a rare quiet moment at his meal. “Brother Garrick, what would you do if you were forced to marry someone you did not love—a dull, unworthy mate—bound only by an unbreakable childhood pact? What course would you take against such a wind?” Garrick frowned as he stared at the message. Before he could form a response, the door to his dining hall swung open with a soft creak.

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###My fiancée and her co-star shared a passionate kiss on stage during their play. The audience was moved, swept up in the romance of the characters. But I knew—there was no such scene in the script. For a brief moment, guilt flickered across her face, but she quickly defended herself: “It’s just acting! What, am I never supposed to take on romantic roles again?” I didn’t respond with a dramatic argument or accusations. Instead, I handed the bouquet of hybrid roses I’d specially bred for her… to one of the extras. Without another word, I turned and walked out of their cast party. Once outside, I called my mentor. “Professor, I’ve decided. I’ll take the offer to go grow roses out west.” I was at home filling out application forms when my phone suddenly rang. Without thinking, I reached for it and answered. On the other end, there was no greeting—just the sound of chaotic chatter, as if the phone’s owner hadn’t realized they’d accidentally dialed me. “Dorothy, it’s your turn!” someone called out. Hearing the familiar name, my hand froze over the hang-up button. “If you could go back, would you still choose to date your current boyfriend?” I already knew what her answer would be, but when I heard her say it aloud, it still felt like a knife twisting in my chest. Laughter erupted in the background. “Exactly! I mean, what’s so great about Brian anyway? He’s just some guy who grows flowers.” “That whole flower thing is so lame. His taste is awful.” “Roses? Every time? Seriously? Could he be any more basic?” I let out a bitter laugh. So this is what they thought of the roses I carefully bred by hand. Roses that, once upon a time, were Dorothy’s favorite flower. Yet, not once did she speak up for me. Not a single word in my defense. Dorothy and I had met in college. She’d been standing in front of my research project display for ages, trying and failing to get the perfect photo. I happened to walk by to check on the exhibit and offered to help her. One thing led to another, and before long, we were dating. Because she loved roses, I even based my graduate research project around them. But back then, I didn’t know she was still holding on to an impossible love—her so-called “one that got away.” The chaotic conversation on the other end of the line continued. No one seemed to notice that the call was still active. Someone joked, asking Mason if he’d crash the wedding if his partner ever got married. Mason’s calm voice replied, “No, I wouldn’t.” The room on the other end fell silent, the sudden awkwardness palpable even through the phone. Someone quickly tried to lighten the mood. “Come on, it’s just a game! Don’t take it seriously. Let’s drink!” I couldn’t help but wonder what Dorothy’s expression looked like in that moment. Probably drowning her feelings in alcohol, pretending everything was fine. Funny how, when you’re not loved, we all end up looking equally pathetic. The phone call abruptly ended as someone finally noticed the accidental dial. I put my phone down in silence. By the time I finished my work, the clock read 11 PM. Turning off the last light in the living room, I headed to bed. I’ve always been a light sleeper—any bit of light keeps me awake. But no matter how late Dorothy comes home, she always leaves a lamp on in the living room. Soon, I’ll be heading out west. She might as well start getting used to the dark. Like many nights before, Dorothy didn’t come home. She stumbled through the door mid-morning, still glued to her phone, and without looking up, called out: “I’m starving.” I didn’t even glance at her, still focused on my work. “Then order takeout. I’m busy.” She frowned, putting her phone down and stepping in front of my computer. The smell of alcohol hit me immediately. “Brian, can you not?” she said, annoyed. “We were acting. What’s the big deal about a kiss when you’re in character?” She crossed her arms, her tone defensive. “Do you even know how many people bought tickets just to see Mason and me perform? Our chemistry is what sells!” I nodded lightly, my eyes drifting to the computer screen behind her. “You’re right. You acted beautifully.” She mistook my calmness for anger and grew more impatient. “Brian, seriously. You can’t expect me to stop taking romantic roles just because I’m with you.” When I didn’t respond, she turned around, intending to shut my laptop. But her hand froze when she saw the words on the screen: Wedding Plans. It was supposed to be our wedding. Yet from start to finish, she hadn’t been involved at all—not even in picking out her dress. I’d handled everything, only to realize I was the only one looking forward to it. For a split second, guilt flickered across her face. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “I’ve just been so busy with rehearsals lately. Once this is over, I’ll make it up to you, okay?” Busy. Too busy to come home, but not too busy to stay out drinking all night with her friends. Was she underestimating how much I noticed… or just didn’t care? But I didn’t want to argue anymore. I simply nodded and said, “Alright.”

Maybe it was guilt, or something else entirely, but Dorothy actually stayed home all day and cooked an entire meal from scratch. During dinner, my advisor sent me a message. I meant to type a reply, but I accidentally hit the audio playback button instead. “Brian, your application has been approved. You’re all set to leave on the 11th.” Dorothy’s ears caught the key detail immediately. “What application? Are you transferring somewhere?” I calmly explained, “No, it’s just a favor for a coworker. I submitted the application for them, but I guess my advisor thought it was mine.” I casually replied to the message with a quick “Got it.” Dorothy, seemingly satisfied, picked up some food and placed it in my bowl. “Oh, that’s too bad. Your coworker won’t be able to come to our wedding then. Make sure to send them some of the party favors later,” she said with a hint of regret. I laughed to myself, bitterly. Not only would my coworker miss the wedding—I wouldn’t be attending it either. The next morning, Dorothy woke up bright and early, fully dressed and made-up, and dragged me out of bed. Groggy, I glanced at the calendar, trying to remember if today was some special occasion. She tapped my head with her makeup brush, rolling her eyes. “Are you serious? You forgot we’re taking our wedding photos today?” Wedding photos. Right. I’d almost forgotten. Months ago, I’d planned to surprise her by booking a session at the city’s most sought-after studio—six months in advance, no less. But when she found out, she’d scolded me for being wasteful. “Why would you book something so useless? What a waste of money,” she’d snapped. I remember blaming myself for not understanding what she wanted. Then one day, while cleaning, I found a stack of photos tucked behind her awards—pictures of her and Mason in various poses, dressed in coordinated outfits. Turns out, she wasn’t against taking photos. She just didn’t want to take them with me. Since the studio had a no-cancellation policy, the whole thing was left unresolved, and honestly, I’d nearly forgotten about it. On the way to the shoot, Dorothy hesitated before speaking up. “Mason wants to be one of the groomsmen for our wedding.” I let out a dry laugh. So this photoshoot was just her way of buttering me up to agree. I shrugged. “Sure, whatever you want.” A smile spread across her face, and she continued, “He’s my partner, so his groomsman suit shouldn’t be like the others.” “It also can’t be cheap. It should match the quality of your suit, at least.” She might as well have just asked me to hand over my suit and let Mason wear it himself. I nodded. “Alright, I’ll get him a suit.” When we arrived at the studio, she got a phone call. Her expression darkened as she stared at her screen. I asked, “What’s wrong?” She quickly hid her phone behind her back and snapped, “Can you stop being so possessive? I can’t even talk to my friends without you overreacting?” She waved me off. “Go get dressed. I’ll join you in a bit.” But when everything was ready—my suit, the set, the photographer—Dorothy was nowhere to be found. Her phone went unanswered. The staff stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. The photographer, clearly a little nervous, cautiously asked, “So… should we start?” I stayed calm, as if I’d seen this coming. After all, her phone screen before she left had been open to a chat with Mason. “Yeah,” I said evenly. “Might as well. It’d be a shame to waste such a beautiful backdrop.” After all, I’d be leaving this city soon. These photos would be my last keepsake. When it was time to leave, I discovered Dorothy had taken the car. Stranded at the remote location, I ended up hitching a ride with the equipment truck. Squeezed between piles of lighting gear, I must’ve looked pretty pathetic. Still, I was grateful they gave me a lift. Without them, who knows how long I’d have been stuck out there. Back home, I reached out to the editor working on our wedding video. “Hi, sorry for the trouble, but there’s been a change. The couple in the wedding video has… shifted. I’ll need you to re-edit it.” Then I sent over a folder with several gigabytes of photos and videos. It wasn’t long before the editor replied, almost excitedly: “Oh, now this is a real couple! The chemistry is undeniable!” “The last two people looked like they hated each other. Every photo had this huge emotional gap between them—it was impossible to edit!” Even a stranger could tell who Dorothy was closest to. How could she not?

It wasn’t until the afternoon that Dorothy finally texted me an explanation: “Mason’s sick, and we have a show coming up. I can’t just leave him hanging.” It was a sloppy lie. Just a few hours earlier, I’d seen Mason’s Instagram story: “Helping a friend escape her controlling boyfriend,” accompanied by a picture of two hands making peace signs. “Just reschedule the photoshoot,” Dorothy added. “We’ll redo it later.” No. There’s no need to reschedule. There’s no need for a wedding at all. But I still replied politely: “Got it. Take care and focus on rehearsals.” I could see the “typing” indicator linger for a long time, as if she hadn’t expected me to be so calm. Finally, she sent a short response: “You too.” For the next few days, Dorothy didn’t contact me. Instead, her social media updates became more frequent—a steady stream of posts about rehearsals, low-calorie meals to stay in shape, and other curated snippets of her life. It felt deliberate, as if she wanted to make sure I saw everything. I obliged, liking every single post. Meanwhile, I stayed busy. I sorted through years of accumulated belongings, donating anything unnecessary. In the greenhouse, the roses I’d cultivated were in full bloom. I cut every last one, bundling them into two bouquets. Then, I headed to my advisor’s office. “Professor, thank you for everything these past few years. Please, take these.” My professor looked surprised. “I remember when you first planted these roses,” he said. “You told me you’d save them for someone important.” A sharp pang hit my chest, but I forced a smile. “Well, you are important to me.” We both knew it was a lie, but neither of us said anything more. My professor looked down at the vibrant roses. “They’re stunning. My wife will love them.” After saying goodbye, I went to the orphanage where I’d grown up and gave the other bouquet to the director. The children were playing outside, their laughter filling the air. As we sat in the garden, I told the director that I’d be heading out west soon to grow roses. She didn’t get a chance to respond before the kids swarmed her, reaching for the flowers. “They’re so pretty!” “Wow, these are amazing!” She smiled and began handing out the roses, one by one. A brave little boy looked up at me and asked, “Can you really grow roses in the desert?” I grinned mischievously. “Of course I can. Just wait and see.” “Whoa, that’s so cool!” When I left the orphanage, my phone was flooded with missed calls. I finally answered one, only to be met with an angry tirade: “Brian, you’re still Dorothy’s fiancé! It’s her 100th show, and you couldn’t even bother to show up? And don’t even get me started on your stupid roses—you couldn’t spare even one for her?!” “Marrying someone like you is the worst thing that could ever happen to her!” The same people who mocked me for giving Dorothy roses were now upset that I didn’t. I held the phone away from my ear, letting them rant until they ran out of steam. “I forgot,” I said flatly. “I’ll Venmo you some money. Buy whatever you want.” I opened the app, found their profile, and sent over a generous amount. Without waiting for a response, I hung up. They were probably already celebrating, even though tomorrow was supposed to be our wedding. As I finished packing my bags, ready to leave, Dorothy stormed through the door. Her face was cold and unreadable as she shoved past me, heading straight for the bedroom. I knew this routine. She wanted to start a silent war. In the past, I’d always been the one to break first, finding ways to win her back. And she’d always used that to her advantage—secure in the knowledge that I cared too much to let her go. But now? I was exhausted. The taxi was already waiting downstairs. As I walked out with my suitcase, I spotted Mason leaning casually against a car. He gave me a smug smile. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of your bride tonight. I’ll return her to you tomorrow.” His words dripped with mockery, but I didn’t care anymore. I gave him a glance before getting into the taxi. As the car pulled away, I sent Dorothy one last text: “Congratulations on your wedding.” Congratulations to you and Mason.

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My boyfriend was hospitalized, so I spent the afternoon making chicken soup and rushed to the hospital to see him. But as I approached his room, I overheard his conversation with a friend: “Your first love is back. Isn’t it time to let that three-year stand-in of yours step aside?” “I mean, now that you’re done with her, let me have a turn. I’ve never been with a woman like her before.” I waited, expecting him to shut his friend down. But instead, Brandon’s voice was calm, almost amused. “Sure, why not? She’s easy enough. Just say a few sweet things, and she’ll jump into bed with you.” That night, while the untouched soup sat cold on my kitchen counter, I found his secret Twitter account. It was filled with years of posts obsessing over his first love, detailing how he had never really gotten over her. I didn’t confront him. I didn’t demand answers. Instead, I quietly booked a one-way ticket to Sea City. On the day of our three-year anniversary, Brandon slipped on the office stairs and sprained his ankle. When I got the call, I rushed to the hospital. He explained that he had been hurrying to the restaurant, worried I’d been waiting too long, and missed a step. I took a few days off work to stay by his side and care for him. On the day he was discharged, some of his friends stopped by to visit. Feeling reassured that he wasn’t alone, I decided to head home and make him some soup. With a warm thermos of freshly made chicken soup in hand, I carefully timed my return to the hospital. The door to his room was slightly ajar, and as I got closer, I overheard voices inside. Brandon’s best friend was laughing, clapping him on the shoulder. “So Aurora’s back, huh? You didn’t have to be that excited about it. Rushing to the airport to pick her up and then falling down the stairs? Classic.” Hearing the name Aurora made my heart skip a beat. Aurora was part of Brandon’s tight-knit college friend group—three guys and one girl. She also happened to be his first love. They dated for two years in college before breaking up when she moved abroad. Even though they ended things, everyone in their circle always talked about how they were “meant to be.” Sometimes, Brandon’s friends would even tease him about it in front of me. In their minds, if Aurora hadn’t left, I wouldn’t even be in the picture. Brandon used to shut them down whenever they brought it up. But this time, maybe because I wasn’t there, he stayed silent. Dylan, his friend, grinned mischievously. “So, your first love is back. When are you planning to kick the stand-in to the curb?” “And hey, once you’re done with her, can I have a turn? I’ve never dated someone like her before.” At this, Brandon finally looked up. He frowned and gave Dylan a light shove. “Chill out,” he said. “Aurora hasn’t said anything yet. Besides, I’m still recovering. I need her to take care of me for now.” My ears were ringing. The world around me seemed to blur as shock gave way to numbness. Dylan didn’t seem to notice. He peeled an orange—one of the ones I had brought earlier—and smirked. “She looks so sweet and innocent, but you’ve told me how wild she is in bed. I’m curious about the contrast.” I clutched the warm thermos in my hands, but the warmth did nothing to stop the icy chill spreading through my chest. I never imagined that the man I loved for three years would talk about me like this behind my back. Brandon’s voice came through the door, cold and detached: “Go ahead if you want. She’s desperate for love—easy to get. I barely had to try to get her into bed.” My chest tightened, the pain sharp enough to take my breath away. Inside the room, they both started laughing, low and cruel. The sound made me feel physically sick. I ran to the bathroom, clutching my mouth, and dry-heaved over the sink. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. So this was what I meant to him. Just a stand-in for his first love, someone he didn’t even respect. I used to think he just didn’t love me as much as I loved him. But now I realized it wasn’t just indifference—it was outright contempt. To him, I wasn’t even a person. I was nothing more than a placeholder, no different from trash on the side of the road. Looking back, it all made sense. His friends had always joked about him and other women, even in front of me, without a care. They treated me like a maid whenever they came over, barking orders while I cooked and cleaned. And why wouldn’t they? Brandon had never stood up for me. Their disrespect was just a reflection of his own. All the “kindness” he showed me was nothing more than an act. I wiped my tears, walked back to the kitchen, and dumped the chicken soup—two hours of effort—straight into the trash. For the first time, breaking up with him felt like the clearest decision I’d ever made. When I walked back into the hospital room, my emotions were firmly under control. Brandon’s face immediately darkened when he saw I’d come back empty-handed. “I thought you said you were making soup for me,” he snapped. “Why are you here with nothing?” Dylan chimed in, clearly enjoying the drama. “Yeah, Stella, Brandon was just telling me how thoughtful you are. Where’s the soup?” His smirk widened as he added, “You know, Stella, there might not be many more chances for you to cook for him. Better make the most of it while you can.” I instinctively glanced at Brandon, half-expecting him to shut Dylan up. But he didn’t. He just sat there, silent, his expression unreadable. Maybe now that Aurora was back, he no longer felt the need to pretend. Or maybe he thought letting Dylan taunt me was a fitting punishment for not bringing the soup. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore.

I stood there silently, my eyes locked on Brandon. This was the man I had loved for three years. I used to think, even if Brandon didn’t love me enough, it would be okay as long as I loved him. Maybe, one day, he’d be touched by my devotion. But now, it felt like the universe was laughing at my naivety. “The soup didn’t turn out great,” I said with a smile, my voice steady. “I already drank it.” I grabbed my lightest bag and walked out of the hospital room first. “Come on, hurry up and pack. Let’s go home,” I added without looking back. I wasn’t going to carry all his stuff like a personal servant anymore. That’s how it always used to be—I’d take care of everything while he walked free-handed. The car ride home was tense. Brandon was clearly upset with me, but I didn’t have the energy to soothe his ego. I needed time to process my own emotions. When we got back to the apartment, one of Brandon’s other friends, Sean, showed up holding a cat. He waltzed in like he owned the place, a smug grin plastered on his face. I froze in the doorway, immediately backing away and covering my nose. “Brandon, didn’t you tell them I’m allergic to cats?” I asked sharply, staring at the fluffy ragdoll cat in Sean’s arms. When I was a kid, a neighbor’s cat had triggered such a severe allergic reaction that I ended up in the hospital for a week. Sean rolled his eyes before Brandon could respond. “Geez, you’re so dramatic,” he said with a smirk. “This is Aurora’s cat. She brought it all the way from abroad—it cost a fortune. I had to beg her just to let me play with it for a few days.” He snorted and added, “Claire, don’t be so difficult.” Brandon, clearly annoyed with me, finally spoke. His expression was cold, his tone sharp. “It’s just a cat. What’s the big deal? You’re not going to die.” His frustration had been simmering all evening, and now, in front of his friend, he let it spill over. Grabbing the cat from Sean, he walked toward me, holding it out like some kind of punishment. “Grow up, Claire. It’s just a little fur. What are you so scared of?” Brandon knew full well how severe my allergies were, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to prove a point, to humiliate me in front of his friend. As I backed away, he kept advancing. The cat let out a sharp yowl, clearly uncomfortable with how tightly he was gripping it, and suddenly, it leapt out of his hands—straight at me. I tried to dodge, but its claws raked across my neck, and I inhaled a mouthful of cat hair. Within seconds, my throat began to close up. My chest tightened, my heart pounded, and cold sweat broke out all over my body. “C-call an ambulance,” I gasped, struggling to breathe. Brandon just scoffed, arms crossed. “Stop faking it, Claire,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. It was Sean who finally noticed how pale I’d become. “Dude, she’s not faking!” Sean said, panic creeping into his voice. “We need to call 911, now!” By the time they finally decided to act, I had collapsed onto the floor, barely conscious. The last thing I saw before everything went dark was Brandon’s panicked face as he and Sean scrambled to call for help. When I woke up, I was alone in a dark hospital room. Because of their so-called “joke,” I had nearly gone into anaphylactic shock and had to be rushed to the hospital. Now, there wasn’t a single person by my side. A nurse came in, turning on the light and quietly changing out my IV. “You have a severe allergy to cat hair,” she said gently. “You can’t afford to be around cats again.” I gave her a weak smile and asked, “Do you know when the people who brought me here left?” She frowned, clearly hesitant to answer. “You mean those three guys?” she finally said. “They left as soon as we told them you were stable.” Her brows furrowed in disbelief. “Honestly, I thought they were just strangers. They didn’t seem very concerned.” I forced out a bitter laugh. “One of them is my boyfriend,” I said quietly. “Though not for much longer.” I picked up my phone and saw a message from Brandon. “We’re heading out for dinner. If you’re fine, just get a ride home.” Twenty minutes ago, Dylan had posted a photo on Instagram. “Reunion with old friends. Feels so good!” The picture showed the four of them—Brandon, Dylan, Sean, and Aurora. In the photo, Brandon was gazing at Aurora with unmistakable tenderness. His eyes held a warmth and longing that he’d never once shown me. They looked like a couple in love, completely absorbed in each other. Staring at that picture, I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. My chest ached so deeply it felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was time to face reality. Brandon had never truly loved me. Aurora was the one he wanted. She had always been the one. And now that she was back, I was nothing but a placeholder, someone to fill the void until she returned. To him, I had no value beyond that.

It hit me suddenly—Brandon was always typing away on his Twitter app, yet I’d never seen him post anything. A knot of unease twisted in my stomach as a thought surfaced. I began digging through his social media, searching for answers. His own Twitter account was blank, but in his “Following” list, I found an account named  Miss U, Aurora. My hands trembled as I clicked on it. The IP address matched his. The account had been active for six years, with thousands of posts. It felt like I had just opened Pandora’s box. What I found inside left me speechless. Every single post was about Aurora. The words overflowed with obsession, longing, and a love so painfully raw it was almost suffocating. The account began as a diary of their relationship but later turned into a public shrine to his unending devotion to her. “November 9, 2021: I got into a relationship with someone else. I won’t wait for you anymore.” That was the day Brandon finally agreed to date me. I had no idea how many times I’d confessed my feelings to him before he reluctantly said yes. Now I understood why. That was the day Aurora left for Europe. “March 10, 2022: I slept with someone else. What choice do I have when you’re dating someone new?” I remembered that night vividly. Brandon had shown up at my apartment drunk, begging me not to leave, whispering sweet nothings until I gave in. “May 16, 2023: Are you really never coming back? I hate you—I’ll never forgive you!” That was the night he put a diamond ring on my finger. He’d held me so tightly and promised, with a look of tenderness in his eyes: “Claire, I’ll marry you.” My breathing grew shaky, and I couldn’t bring myself to read any further. I scrolled to the most recent post, the one he had written just a few days ago: “I’ve lost to you again. After all these years, I still can’t let you go. I’ll love you forever.” Attached was a photo of him and Aurora, holding hands and smiling. Tears slipped down my face, blurring the screen. I felt like I had been ripped apart, betrayed in the cruelest way imaginable. For three years, I had poured my heart into a relationship that was never mine to begin with. Brandon’s love had always belonged to Aurora. Even after she left him, even after she abandoned him for years, he continued to cherish her. He would have done anything to win her back. And me? I was nothing. My hands shook as the truth settled in. No wonder Brandon never fought with me—he never cared enough to. No wonder he never noticed when I was upset—I was never important to him. No wonder he had been so distracted that he fell down the stairs. It wasn’t because he was rushing to meet me—it was because Aurora’s sudden return had completely consumed him. I forced myself to stay calm as I took screenshots of everything, saving every post as evidence. At least now I knew the truth. If I hadn’t overheard him that day, if I hadn’t stumbled upon his secret Twitter account, I might have spent my entire life believing his lies. I might have kept fooling myself into thinking he had let go of his first love. But now, I was done. I had seen the kind of man Brandon truly was. Beneath his polished, charming exterior was a selfish, deceitful heart. There was no reason to stay in this relationship any longer. As I sat there, my phone buzzed with a call from my boss. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to sound normal as I answered. “Claire, there’s an opportunity to transfer to the Sea City branch,” my boss began. “It’s a director-level role, and I think you’d be perfect for it. The position doesn’t come around often. What do you think?” I hesitated. This wasn’t the first time I’d been offered a chance to advance my career. Last year, I had turned down a dream opportunity in France because I wanted to stay in Riverdale and build a life with Brandon. But now? Now there was no reason to hold myself back. “Thank you for the opportunity,” I said firmly. “I’d love to take the job in Sea City.” For the first time in months, I felt a sense of clarity. The pain in my chest was unbearable, but my brain was screaming at me to save myself. After hanging up, I immediately booked a flight to Sea City for a few days later. When I was discharged from the hospital, I went straight home to pack. I didn’t bother trying to find Brandon. He was probably with Aurora anyway. The next day, as I sat in the back of a cab on the way to the airport, I saw Brandon’s secret Twitter account had been updated again. “Seeing her again, I couldn’t hold back.” The attached photo was another picture of him and Aurora, their fingers intertwined. I stared at it for a moment before scrolling past, my heart aching but my resolve unshaken. A text message from Brandon popped up on my phone: “You were discharged yesterday? Where are you? Why isn’t your stuff here?” I ignored it. He called me over and over, but I declined every single call. Then, just before my flight, a call came in from an unfamiliar number. I answered, and Brandon’s panicked voice shot through the line: “Claire, where are you? When did you come home? What’s going on?” I let out a quiet laugh, the sound bitter and devoid of warmth. “Brandon,” I said calmly, “I know Aurora’s back.” “She’s the one you’ve always loved, isn’t she?” I could almost feel his silence on the other end of the line. “Now that your first love has returned,” I continued, my voice steady, “it’s time for the stand-in to step aside.” The flight attendant’s announcement chimed in the background, signaling takeoff. “Claire, what are you talking about? Where are you?” Brandon demanded, his voice rising in frustration.

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It was my first day at the new job, and of course, they assigned me a night shift right away. I had always worked at public hospitals, but a few weeks ago, I got an offer from a private one. The salary was hard to resist, and in the end, I couldn’t say no. I decided to make the switch. At this new hospital, my salary had increased several times over, and the work was a bit easier, too. I’d been married for almost two years, and with a less stressful, higher-paying job, I thought it would be easier for us to start trying for a baby. I couldn’t help but laugh when I thought about how Nathaniel, my husband, spent his time watching videos of cute little kids all day. He loved kids, so I figured having one wouldn’t be so bad. Even though his financial situation wasn’t exactly great, my income made up for that. In a marriage, there was no need to worry about who earned more. We both contributed what we could. If one of us made less, the other just picked up more of the household duties. I had always been pretty laid-back about it. Once I finished my night shift, I planned to tell Nathaniel the good news. I was sure he’d be over the moon. By midnight, I was getting a bit sleepy, but I grabbed my chart and went to start my rounds. When I reached the door of one of the private rooms, I heard some strange noises coming from inside. I shook my head, feeling a bit exasperated, and decided to skip that room, thinking I’d check it later. But just as I turned to walk away, I heard voices. “You need to get your health back on track if you want to get pregnant soon!” The voice made me stop dead in my tracks. It was Nathaniel’s voice. His voice was rough, and there weren’t many people who sounded like him, so I recognized it immediately. “Come on, let me rest for a couple of days, and I’ll make sure we have that healthy baby of yours soon enough!” A sweet, almost sickly voice followed, and I knew right away it was a woman’s voice. “Besides, you’re still married. Me getting pregnant right now would be… a bit complicated, don’t you think? Who would want to have a baby with no proper standing?” she added. That was all I needed to hear. This woman was definitely a mistress. At that moment, I wasn’t thinking about finishing my rounds anymore. I just wanted to barge in and see if Nathaniel was really in there. If it was him, well, things were about to get very interesting. But instead of pushing the door open, I went straight to the nurse’s station, pulled up the surveillance footage, and checked the hallway. As expected, earlier that day, Nathaniel had walked in carrying a basket of fruit, and he hadn’t come out since. That was all I needed to know. I had been completely betrayed. I never expected that changing hospitals would lead to something like this. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I walked past the room, finished my rounds, and returned to the office. I sat down, feeling dizzy and confused. Nathaniel and I hadn’t known each other long, but we’d always gotten along well. When I was busy at the hospital, he took care of everything at home. I never had to worry about a thing. Up until now, I had thought we were perfect for each other—he was an amazing husband, and I couldn’t imagine him cheating. I never even considered the possibility of falling for anyone else. But now, everything felt like a cruel joke. We met at the hospital when he came in for his regular check-up, and I had just finished a surgery when we bumped into each other in the hallway. It was love at first sight. Who would have thought that this wonderful guy, the husband I always bragged about, could actually cheat? I felt numb. Exhaustion hit me hard, and before I realized it, I fell asleep. The next morning, my colleague came in for the handover, and I automatically asked about the patient in bed 305. “Oh, you mean Isabelle Lane? She lost her baby because of being too active during her pregnancy. We found out she’s had lost a few babies. After the D&C, her chances of getting pregnant again are practically zero,” my colleague said. My heart sank when I heard that. She had lost a few babies? Could it be that all of them were Nathaniel’s? I couldn’t shake the thought as I went to finish my last round for the day. When I entered room 305, Isabelle seemed shocked at first. But she quickly masked her expression and gave me a mocking look. “Dr. Hale, you look so exhausted. Didn’t get enough sleep last night?” I didn’t feel like answering, so I stayed silent. There was no rule that said I had to respond to every patient’s questions. Isabelle stared at me for a moment before deliberately saying, “A woman as beautiful as you, your husband must adore you, right?” I didn’t react, but I could tell by the way she spoke that she knew exactly who I was. Otherwise, how would she have known so much and why was she showing me such obvious hostility? “Why are you so quiet? I really like you. You’re so pretty. If I were your husband, I’d never cheat on you. You’d be the luckiest woman in the world.” I wasn’t affected by her words. They were clearly meant to provoke me. Had I not known the truth, I might have laughed it off. But after everything I’d learned, I just felt disgusted. “After losing a baby, you need to rest. Losing a few babies can cause infertility. Women need to take better care of themselves,” I said coldly and then turned and walked away. I didn’t know whose children Isabelle had lost, and I couldn’t expect Nathaniel to come clean at the hospital. When I finished my rounds and was about to leave, I was about to open the door when I bumped into Nathaniel himself. He was holding a glass container with some cut-up fruit in it. He looked worn out, like he hadn’t slept well. We stood there in front of room 305, and I could see the panic in his eyes the moment he saw me. “How did you end up here?” I frowned as I asked, closing the door to Room 305 behind me. No matter what, I didn’t want Isabelle to see me as a joke. When Nathaniel heard my question, a look of unease crossed his face. “I’m just visiting a friend,” he said, forcing a smile as he explained. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, “Visiting a friend, huh? Do you really need to bring cut fruit for that? Is she a friend or your girlfriend?” It struck me as ridiculous. Even though I thought Nathaniel loved me, he had never once taken the time to cut fruit for me. Yet, this other woman was treated entirely differently. How was I supposed to feel at ease about that? Nathaniel, clearly irritated by my words, shot me a frustrated glance. “What are you implying? Do you think I’m lying to you? I’m just visiting a friend. It’s not something I want to make public, so I didn’t mention it to you.” He looked at me, visibly agitated, shaking his head in disbelief. “If you really think I’d cheat on you, then I don’t even know what to say!” With that, he didn’t stick around any longer. He turned and stormed off, looking like he was hurt and offended. I felt confused. It was almost as if he was embarrassed about being caught and was now angry because of it. That evening, Nathaniel didn’t come home, probably wanting to avoid me for a while. I couldn’t be bothered to engage with him. At that point, all I could feel was a deep sense of frustration. I had enough evidence now to prove he was cheating, and while I was ready to divorce him, I wasn’t sure I could let go of the years we’d spent together. After thinking it over, I decided not to make a move just yet. I would give him one more chance. If he could come to his senses, maybe I could pretend none of this ever happened. The next day at work, Nathaniel even brought me lunch. I didn’t make it easy for him—gave him no acknowledgment at all—but he still kept at it for days, bringing me lunch and chatting briefly before leaving to “go back to work”. But the security footage told a different story. He wasn’t going back to work. He was meeting up with Isabelle again. Initially, I wanted to forgive him, to give him that chance. But now, after everything, I was just beyond done with him. Every time I went to check on patients, I had to see Isabelle’s smug face. She would taunt me with little remarks. “Dr. Hale, do you want some of this? It’s the fruit my man personally cut for me!” “Dr. Hale, how about some fresh juice? My man went out and bought it just for me!” I knew she was doing this on purpose, trying to get under my skin. But I wasn’t about to waste my time on her. If they kept this up, though, I would have no choice but to file for divorce. Just as I was mulling over these thoughts, I saw Nathaniel walk in carrying the lunch he’d made for me. When he saw me, his expression immediately soured. He quickly recovered, offering an explanation. “I brought you lunch. I heard you were doing rounds, so I thought I’d drop by.” His words were so forced, I couldn’t even stand to hear them. “Really? You think I could eat while I’m doing rounds? Or were you planning to give this lunch to that ‘friend’ of yours who’s just lost her baby?” Nathaniel shot me a look of irritation. “Enough with this personal stuff! Don’t drag other people into it. You’ve gone too far.” I was done with him. It was clear his heart wasn’t with me anymore—everything he did now was just to please Isabelle. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.” I gathered my paperwork and turned to leave, but Nathaniel stepped in front of me, his face full of frustration. “Apologize.” I was stunned. I had no idea what he was talking about. “Apologize? For what?” I couldn’t believe he was demanding an apology. Was he asking me to apologize to that woman? Nathaniel looked at me with disgust, clearly angry. “What you said was uncalled for. You need to apologize to Isabelle. We’re just friends, okay? I came here to check on her as a friend, and you humiliated her. Don’t you think that’s ridiculous?” For a moment, I almost thought maybe I had misunderstood things. If I hadn’t caught them in the act that night, I might have believed him. “Oh, please, don’t make her apologize. I’m fine! It’s just a misunderstanding, really,” Isabelle chimed in with her sugary tone, pretending to brush it off. I was so disgusted by her words, but I didn’t want to get caught up in any more drama. I turned to leave without saying another word. Nathaniel didn’t stop me. It seemed like he knew there was no point in arguing further—it was better to spend time with his little girlfriend than waste it on me. Back in my office, I accessed the hospital’s system and pulled up Isabelle’s records. I was shocked to find out that Nathaniel and Isabelle were both from the same small town. Under her occupation, it said, “Unemployed.” It seemed she was just another unemployed person from a small town. As I thought about it, my stomach churned. This private hospital was known for catering to wealthy clients, and I highly doubted someone without a job could afford to stay there. The truth hit me hard—Nathaniel was the one footing the bill for her stay. The idea of him spending our shared money on this woman made my blood boil. His affair had crossed a line, and I wasn’t going to put up with it. Divorce was already on my mind. Nathaniel’s financial situation was nothing compared to mine. The house and the car—both mine. But since all of this was acquired after we got married, it was considered marital property. I wasn’t going to let him walk away with what was rightfully mine. So, I contacted a private investigator. Even though I knew he was cheating, I didn’t have concrete proof. Once I had the evidence, I would have enough to prove he was cheating and make sure he left with nothing. When I finished everything, I realized it was time for my rounds. I hurriedly grabbed the patient files and went from room to room. By the time I reached Isabelle’s room, I was a minute late. As soon as I pushed the door open, I saw Isabelle’s smug expression. She glanced at me coldly and then shook the timer in her hand. “Dr. Hale, you’re late,” Isabelle said, her voice dripping with smugness as she put her phone down and leaned back against the wall. “I was timing you. Didn’t expect to witness your tardiness.” I ignored her and quickly finished my checkup before turning to leave. Talking to that woman was a waste of time. I couldn’t stand seeing her act so self-important. As soon as I finished my rounds and was about to sit down to write my notes, I got a call from the hospital director, asking me to come to his office. When I arrived, I found the director looking less than pleased. “Dr. Hale, I know you’re passionate about your work, but you really need to be more mindful of your timing. We had a complaint from a patient about you being late for your rounds. We’ve always been very strict about these things to ensure the best experience for our patients,” he said, glancing at me. “Why don’t you take a few days off? Once this patient is discharged, you can return to work.” I didn’t argue. I just nodded and left. The director probably sensed my mood and wisely chose not to push the matter further. As I was leaving his office, I heard shouting coming from Isabelle’s room. “Dr. Hale is so unprofessional! Doesn’t even care about the patients. Can anyone just be a doctor these days? She can’t even keep her scheduled rounds, and she’s late by a whole minute. Doesn’t she have any respect for us patients?”

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My husband, Adrian, locked me—a pregnant woman—in a mental hospital because his beloved needed test subjects for her drug research. Electric shocks left me trembling and drooling, my body convulsing uncontrollably. Adrian, standing nearby, shielded her eyes, his voice filled with gentle disgust. “Don’t look.” Her experiment earned her a nomination for an award, and Adrian celebrated by lighting up the entire city with fireworks in her honor. Meanwhile, on that cold winter night, under the glow of the fireworks, I gave birth to a deformed baby boy. He cried once before falling silent forever. I cradled his tiny, lifeless body and, with frozen hands and a hollow heart, placed him into the freezer. Seven days later, as Adrian attends an award ceremony to honor his beloved, I will present him with the ultimate gift. With red, swollen eyes, I begged the nurse to help me with this. As a mother herself, the nurse hesitated when she saw me holding my stillborn baby and sobbing uncontrollably, but eventually, she agreed. She was just about to leave, holding the freezer, when she almost bumped into my husband, Adrian Reed. The smell from the freezer made Adrian instinctively cover his nose. He watched the nurse walk away, and only after she was far enough did he lower his hand. But nothing seemed to ruin Adrian’s good mood. He looked like someone who had just returned from a victorious battle. His voice was light, almost as if talking to himself. “Liliana’s experiment was a huge success. She’s finally realized her dream.” But ever since he walked in, he didn’t look at me. His gaze was fixed on the dazzling night sky outside the window. It wasn’t until he noticed my silence that he finally glanced at me, his expression cold, his brow furrowing slightly. “Liliana asked you for this little favor when she came back. You’re pregnant, and you don’t have much to do anyway. Just come out and make some friends. Help her with something important. Don’t make that face.” Make friends? The man who came into my room to harass me. The woman who strangled me, accusing me of stealing her money. The woman who kicked me to the ground, claiming I had stolen her child. That was what Adrian called “making friends.” Liliana Hart had fed me so many pills, and when the baby was born, it was deformed. The doctor had said that if I’d gone for a check-up earlier, things might’ve been different. But I had no freedom. How could I have gone for a check-up? Seeing me with red eyes, still refusing to look at him, Adrian leaned in, his voice sharp. “Daphne…” He got halfway through my name before his attention was diverted by the buzzing phone in his pocket. The moonlight shone through the window, casting a soft glow on his face. It was a look of… happiness. Adrian stayed in the room for over twenty minutes and didn’t even notice my deflated belly. Just as I was about to fall asleep from exhaustion, Liliana’s assistant brought in today’s medication. Thinking about the child I had just delivered—a twisted, half-human, half-ghost—I threw the pills to the floor. Adrian by the window blinked in surprise and then quickly stepped forward, crouching down to gather the pills, and pressing them toward my mouth. His cold, detached voice slid into my ears. “This is part of Liliana’s experiment. If you don’t take it, how is she supposed to finish her report?” I turned my head away, tears streaming, but he grabbed my chin, forcing the pills down my throat. Adrian seemed ready to say something else, but when his phone buzzed again, he glanced at it, then turned, and left without even grabbing his coat. I had a pretty good idea of why he was leaving. I opened Instagram and saw a post from Liliana, her nose stuffed with tissues, looking playful but cute. Liliana: [Watched fireworks all night, but came home with a cold. Took an extra cold pill—hope I’m not gonna die from it, lol.] The comments were flooded with Adrian’s overly concerned messages. Adrian: [You’re sick? Why didn’t you tell me?] Adrian: [You’re such a disaster. Go get checked at the hospital. I’ll come to you.]

That night, Adrian didn’t come back. After midnight, I silently wished myself a happy birthday. I remembered the days before they locked me up in the mental hospital, when Adrian had taken me for my first prenatal check-up. The doctor had calculated the due date, and Adrian was so excited. “Maybe the baby will be born on your birthday. We’ll throw a huge celebration.” But that was before. Now, Adrian had set off fireworks across the city to celebrate a pointless nomination for Liliana. As dawn broke, the nurse brought me a small cake. “I remember you said today was your birthday, but…” She hesitated, glancing at me and then at the empty space where my baby should’ve been. Still, she lit the candles. I appreciated her kindness during these inhuman days. I closed my eyes, made a wish, and just as I was about to blow out the candles, a figure appeared at the door. Adrian stood there, his eyes scanning the scene. His brow furrowed for a moment, as if something had just occurred to him. “Oh, today’s your birthday.” He fumbled in his coat pocket, almost as if he was looking for a gift. But when he pulled his hand out, all he had was a pink lace thong. He awkwardly shoved it back into his pocket, mumbling, “Maybe someone’s playing a prank on me. I’ll get you something better later.” I blew out the candles, not even thinking before I answered. “No need.” The moment the words left my mouth, Adrian’s face darkened. He shoved his hands in his pockets, impatience flashing across his features. “You’re really throwing a tantrum over a gift? I paid for your mother’s treatment when she was sick. And now you’re pouting over a stupid birthday? Isn’t that a bit much?” I bit my lip, silently listening. Because he was right—he had saved my mother’s life. What I owed him felt like it would never be repaid. The nurse, who had been sitting by the bed, couldn’t take it anymore and stood to leave, accidentally bumping into Adrian’s shoulder as she passed. He stumbled, his expression darkening, and his chest rising and falling dramatically. He shot me a reproachful glance before turning to leave but bumped into Liliana, who had just entered wearing a lab coat. Underneath, she was wearing a barely-there lace skirt. Adrian’s anger seemed to vanish instantly. He hurried forward, his voice softening. “I told you to rest at home. Why are you here?” Liliana sneezed and then waved her hand dismissively. “Yesterday, you took off your clothes to warm me up. I’m feeling much better now.” Liliana quickly realized there were other people in the room and pulled back her flirtatious gaze, offering me a tight smile. “I’m here because there’s an important experiment we need to do, and I need Daphne’s cooperation.” My heart skipped a beat. I looked at Adrian with pleading eyes, silently begging him to refuse. But he just smiled at Liliana, his voice casual as he replied, “It’s fine. She’s not doing anything anyway.” At that moment, the knife I had been dreading finally fell. Liliana smiled and then added, “This one might hurt a bit more, but you’ve handled it before, so I’m sure you can manage.” A cold sense of dread crept through me.

Adrian poured a hefty sum into setting up Liliana’s lab. He allowed Liliana to test her drugs on real people and even supported her using those questionable electroshock treatments. Every single time, Adrian was the one cleaning up the mess. And he seemed to enjoy it. But I never thought that one day, Adrian would let Liliana do this to me. I didn’t fight back fiercely, because I owed him too much. But once the experiment was over, I figured it was time to settle my debts. Liliana’s slap shattered the silence, and a group of doctors filed into the room, carrying various tools. Once the equipment was in place, Liliana suddenly leaned against Adrian’s shoulder, looking up at him with a pout. “Adrian, I’m suddenly scared.” Adrian seemed to flinch, his eyes softening with concern as he gently covered her eyes. “We’ll leave for now, and let them bring the data to us later.” In the room, I lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, my hands and feet bound, as the doctors went to work. The light blurred, and my consciousness began to fade. As the voltage increased, my body went numb, but my mind remained somewhat alert, occasionally snapping back into clarity. Through a haze, I heard chaos breaking out around me, the sounds of scrambling, of equipment rattling. “Tch, what’s wrong with you? You can’t even control the voltage?” Then came the spasms, and I barely heard the frantic shout. “Hurry. We need to get her to emergency! There might still be time!” I didn’t struggle. It felt like I’d been knocked unconscious. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a new, unfamiliar room. Before I could say anything, a sweet voice chimed in from nearby. “You’ve really been through a lot, Daphne. Here’s a little something for your trouble.” Liliana flashed me a sugary smile and pulled out a bill, setting it down on my pillow. She turned around, just in time to meet Adrian, and immediately dropped the sinister expression, lowering her head with a frown. “It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry, Daphne. I didn’t mean for you to pass out. I’ve already apologized to you.” Adrian barely glanced at me before affectionately ruffling Liliana’s hair. “You didn’t mean it. No need to apologize.” But then he paused for a moment, as if struck by a thought. He walked over to my bedside. “The doctor said you lost the baby. Why didn’t you tell me when you were pregnant?” I stayed silent. He had been busy watching fireworks with Liliana, and no matter how many messages I sent him, none of them were ever answered. Before the nurse could explain, I stopped her with a raised hand and turned to Adrian. “The baby’s health was weak, so it’s been in an incubator.” I quickly added, “It was a boy.” Adrian lowered his head, lost in thought for a moment. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he nodded in approval. “It’s good that you gave birth. You’ve been through so much, so tonight, I’ll take you to a restaurant to celebrate.” Without waiting for my consent, Adrian pulled me to a clothing store and bought me a dress. As he helped me zip it up, his hands paused when he saw all the bruises and marks on my exposed skin. But he didn’t say anything. At the dinner table, Adrian’s attention never strayed from his phone. He even disappeared to the restroom for more than twenty minutes. When he returned, he only remembered to call for the menu. And when the waiter arrived, Adrian just pointed absentmindedly at random. The waiter was completely confused, as Adrian had only pointed at drinks. I sighed and took the menu from his hands, ordering the food myself. After a while, as soon as the dishes were served, Adrian suddenly stood up and grabbed his coat. “Liliana’s been harassed at a party. I have to go.”

Just as Adrian was about to leave, he hesitated and then spoke with an indifferent tone, “You should come with me. There aren’t many cars available this time of night.” The whole way there, Adrian was too preoccupied with his phone to talk to me, glancing at it every few moments like he was waiting for some important message. We arrived in a rush at the location Liliana had sent, and the atmosphere in the private room was lively. As soon as Liliana saw me, her smile faded, but she quickly adjusted, lowering her head with a guilty expression. “I didn’t know you were with Daphne. I only called you because I lost a game of Truth or Dare.” Adrian burst into the room, still catching his breath, but he didn’t seem angry. “It’s nothing. Just having dinner with her. Not a big deal.” As soon as those words left his mouth, every pair of eyes in the room turned to me. I stared down at my hands, my fingers gripping tightly, hoping to put an end to this scene. “There’s nothing wrong. I’ll leave.” But as I turned to leave, Liliana suddenly called out to me. “Daphne, my experiment’s not finished. You can’t go home yet. You’ll need to stay in the hospital a little longer.” At that moment, I heard someone’s mocking voice from the crowd. “So she’s Liliana’s experiment? No wonder she’s covered in scars.” Another voice chimed in. “Scars are normal, but wearing such revealing clothes? That’s not right. It’s so ugly.” I turned my back, biting my lip, trying my best not to cry. Adrian, though, seemed to have heard nothing, still defending Liliana. “Liliana’s right. You can’t leave. Stay here at the hospital for now.” I gritted my teeth and held it in, but before I could reach the door, I received a call from the hospital. “Ma’am, your mother’s condition is critical. If you can, you should come and say goodbye.” My mind went blank in an instant. Just as I was about to rush out, I was blocked by a few bulky bodyguards. I struggled, but couldn’t break free, looking back at Adrian, my eyes pleading. His face, however, was filled with displeasure. “Liliana’s experiment has come this far, and you want to ruin it at the last minute?” Seeing that I was silent, Adrian made his decision. “You have to stay at the mental hospital tonight.” At that moment, I couldn’t take it anymore. I rushed to explain. “My mother’s dying! I need to see her one last time!” Adrian was momentarily moved, but Liliana tugged at his sleeve, giving him a pitiful look. Adrian immediately shifted his tone, his voice sharp. “Your mother has a doctor taking care of her. What’s the point of you going? Liliana’s been nominated for an award, and it’s going to be presented in a few days. You can’t stand her winning, can you?” My throat tightened, my blood running cold, but Adrian’s impatience was palpable as he waved his hand. The bodyguards grabbed me, dragging me out and swiftly tossing me into a car sent by the mental hospital. It was a long, torturous ride. I was locked back into a cold, dark room. And soon after, I received the dreaded news from the hospital… At that moment, countless images swirled in my mind, like falling into a frozen abyss. The next few days, Liliana continued her torment, and I became a hollow shell, no longer resisting. On the final day, Adrian attended the award ceremony with Liliana, the flashing lights blinding. And I regained my freedom. I picked up the plane ticket the nurse had bought for me, carrying the heavy urn, my body battered, and returned to my hometown. As soon as I landed, my phone was flooded with missed calls. All from Adrian. After a moment’s thought, I responded with one message: [Let’s get a divorce.] Then I blocked him and disappeared into the bustling crowd. Back in the shabby neighborhood, I sighed with relief. I’d just started packing when the nurse called me again. “News channels are going crazy…”

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## It was a stormy night when my boyfriend called, his voice filled with urgency. “I’ve been in a car accident. It’s bad. Guess how long it’ll take you to get here?” Panicked, I bolted into the pouring rain, my heart racing as I imagined the worst. By the time I arrived, drenched and gasping for breath, the sight that greeted me wasn’t a wrecked car or an injured man. Instead, my ever-practical, romance-challenged boyfriend was wheeling out a massive cake, the centerpiece of a surprise party for Sarah, his assistant. “Luna, it’s my fault,” Sarah said timidly, stepping forward as if to shield him. “I made a bet with Mr. Sterling, and things got out of hand. If you’re upset, you can take it out on me.” Her voice was soft, apologetic, but it was the glint on her wrist that caught my eye—a diamond bracelet identical to the one he had given me. I turned to him, only to meet his cold, indifferent gaze. His brows furrowed in irritation as he said, “It was just a joke. Why are you acting like this? Who are you trying to impress?” The tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Everyone seemed to expect me to explode, to throw a jealous tantrum befitting the “overly possessive girlfriend.” But instead, I smiled, calm and composed. Reaching for Sarah’s hand, I placed it gently in his palm, my voice light and steady. “As long as you two are happy, that’s all that matters.”

“Mr. Sterling lost the bet! The punishment is to pick someone here to drink a cross-arm toast with!” “Come on, Mr. Sterling hasn’t even said who he’s picking, and look—our birthday girl is already blushing! Be a gentleman, Mr. Sterling, make your move!” Hearing that Noah Sterling had been in a car accident, I sped through the pouring rain, my heart pounding as I pushed my car to dangerous speeds. But when I arrived, drenched and disheveled, I was greeted by laughter, bright decorations, and a massive banner reading, “Happy Forever 18th, Sarah!” The man I’d been so worried about, the one I thought might be injured—or worse—stood in the center of it all, perfectly unharmed. Dressed in an immaculate suit and holding a wine glass, he walked toward Sarah with a charming smile. Sarah’s cheeks flushed as their eyes met. Their arms linked together, and they were just about to drink the cross-arm toast when someone spotted me. “Oh my god, Luna!” The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to me. Noah paused mid-motion, his brows furrowing as he turned to the door. His gaze landed on me—soaking wet, pale, with mud splattered across my face and clothes. Before he could say anything, Sarah clung to his shirt like a frightened rabbit, her wide-eyed expression making it seem like I was some vengeful ghost. Noah gently patted her shoulder, his voice soft and reassuring. “It’s fine—it’s just Luna.” Then, his expression shifted, irritation flashing in his eyes as he looked at me. His voice carried a cold edge. “It was just a joke. Why did you make such a spectacle of yourself? Go home. Stop embarrassing me.” I glanced down at myself, taking in the torn, muddy clothes, the blood seeping from scratches on my knees and hands, and my tangled, rain-soaked hair. Yes, I’d embarrassed him. Before I could respond, Sarah stepped forward with a sweet smile, her voice soft and kind. “Luna, I didn’t know you’d come! It’s my birthday, and Mr. Sterling got me the biggest cake! Would you like some? I’ll cut you a piece.” She reached out as if to take my hand but stopped just before touching me. Her expression shifted, and she covered her mouth dramatically, gagging. After a few exaggerated dry heaves, Sarah looked up at me with an apologetic smile. “Oh, Luna, you smell awful. You should clean yourself up. Mr. Sterling and I both have a bit of a germ thing, you know? And this venue—it cost thousands to book. Please don’t get it dirty.” She grabbed a packet of wet wipes, tossing it at me with a loud smack against my face before it fell to the ground. My cheek stung, but I didn’t react. I saw the challenge in her eyes, the smugness she didn’t bother to hide. I glanced around the room. The decorations alone must have cost at least $10,000. In the seven years I’d been with Noah, he’d never spent more than $3,000 on me in total. Even on my birthdays, the cakes he bought were tiny, four-inch specials on sale. “Luna,” he’d always said, “you’re not a little girl anymore. You don’t need all those flashy things.” Back then, I’d thought he just didn’t understand women. Now, I realized he’d simply never cared enough to bother. The room remained silent, everyone watching to see what I’d do. I bent down to pick up the wet wipes, then cleaned my hands methodically. Without a word, I walked toward the towering cake. Everyone stared, confused about my intentions. I grabbed the knife, cut a small slice, and took a bite. The frosting was sweet, almost cloying, masking the bitterness rising in my throat. I smiled and nodded. “The cake’s good. Sarah, happy birthday.” Then, placing the plate down, I took Sarah’s hand and pressed it into Noah’s palm. “Go on. Continue your game. You two enjoy yourselves.” Sarah’s smile froze, her eyes wide with shock. The room buzzed with whispers, but Noah’s expression darkened instantly. He wrenched his hand away from mine, his voice cold and threatening. “Luna, are you trying to test my patience?” Normally, his anger would have made me panic, would have driven me to apologize and beg for forgiveness. But tonight, I simply smiled. “What’s wrong, Noah? Can’t take a joke?” His eyes narrowed, ice seeping into his gaze. Before he could speak, Sarah stepped in, her small frame shielding him as she pleaded. “Mr. Sterling, it’s my fault! Luna’s mad because of the bet we made. Please don’t blame her.” She turned to me, her voice trembling as tears welled in her eyes. “Luna, I didn’t think you’d believe it without checking first! You could’ve called to confirm. I’m so sorry. If you’re upset, take it out on me. You can hit me if it’ll make you feel better.” She raised her arm, her expression one of exaggerated fear. But as she moved, the bracelet on her wrist caught the light—an unmistakable sparkle. It was the diamond bracelet Noah had given me when we first started dating, the most expensive gift he’d ever given me. I’d never worn it, keeping it tucked away like a treasure. Sarah noticed my gaze and quickly stepped back, clutching the bracelet nervously. “I’m sorry, Luna. I just mentioned once how much I loved your bracelet, and Mr. Sterling gave it to me. I’ll return it right away.” She fumbled with the clasp, pretending to struggle before the bracelet fell to the ground. Diamonds scattered across the floor like broken glass. “Oh no!” Sarah gasped, biting her lip, her eyes brimming with tears. “Mr. Sterling, I’m so clumsy. I broke it!” Noah hesitated, glancing at me. His silence spoke volumes—he didn’t know how to defend her without making things worse. The room was suffocatingly quiet. I bent down, picking up the broken bracelet. My voice was calm, almost detached. “It’s fine. I didn’t want it anymore anyway.” Without hesitation, I tossed it into the trash can. The clinking sound echoed in the silent room. Noah’s face darkened further, his anger barely restrained. Sarah glanced at him, then fell to her knees in front of me, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Luna! It’s all my fault! Please don’t take it out on Mr. Sterling. He doesn’t understand these things—he’s a man!” Her sobs grew louder as she continued, “I shouldn’t have let him throw me this party. I didn’t realize it would upset you so much.” She bowed her head dramatically, as though preparing to beg for forgiveness, but before she could, Noah moved swiftly, pulling her to her feet. “Why are you apologizing to her?” he snapped. “It’s her fault for ruining the night!” Noah shot me a cold glare. “You can’t even take a harmless joke? And now you’re bullying a sweet girl like Sarah?” His voice turned sharper, dripping with disdain. “Luna, are you just waiting for me to actually get into a car accident and die so you can finally be happy?” I stared at him, barely recognizing the man in front of me. He looked so unfamiliar, so distant, it was almost frightening. It was him who lied about a car accident. Him who ignored my frantic calls. Him who took the bracelet he had given me—the one I had cherished—and gave it to Sarah. I had risked everything to get to him tonight, speeding through dangerous rain-soaked roads with my heart in my throat, terrified for his life. My tires had nearly skidded off the road. And for what? To be met with his accusations, his scorn, and his indifference? In the past, I might have cried. I might have let the tears fall while pleading, trying desperately to make him see how much I cared—how much I was hurting. But now, I felt nothing but exhaustion. Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “You’re right. I overreacted. You all enjoy yourselves.” With that, I turned and walked away. As I reached the door, I heard someone hesitantly suggest, “Mr. Sterling, maybe you should go after Luna? She didn’t look… well.” Noah scoffed dismissively, his tone annoyed. “You don’t know Luna. She’s just playing the victim again. Don’t waste your time.” He raised his glass. “It’s Sarah’s birthday tonight. No one’s leaving until we’ve all had our fill!” Cheers erupted behind me, growing louder as I stepped outside. The storm hadn’t let up. Rain poured relentlessly, soaking me to the bone as I trudged back to my car. By the time I climbed into the driver’s seat, my teeth were chattering despite the heater running full blast. My hands trembled, and before I could stop them, tears spilled down my cheeks. But I knew those tears weren’t for Noah. They were for the version of myself who had once loved him so foolishly, so desperately, for so many years. I had loved Noah for seventeen years. From the shy crush I carried in middle school, to the unwavering devotion that lasted through college and beyond. Even his mother had been moved by my persistence, going out of her way to encourage our relationship. That’s how I finally became his girlfriend. Noah had always been distant, his affection lukewarm at best, but I clung to the small moments. I convinced myself that he cared, that deep down, he loved me too. Why? Because he had once said, “Love is about two people living a steady life together, growing old side by side.” I believed him. I gave up a prestigious opportunity to study abroad, choosing instead to stay by his side. I became the woman who took care of him, who managed his meals, his schedules, his life. I told myself I was protecting our relationship. Even when my professor urged me not to waste my potential, I just smiled awkwardly and nodded, feeling guilty for letting her down. “You’re better than this,” she’d said. “Your peers—people who were once your juniors—are now running their own companies or earning doctorates overseas. You should think about what you’re giving up.” But I stayed. For him. Then Sarah joined his company as an assistant. Noah, who had always been so serious, so indifferent, suddenly smiled when her name came up. Even when I told him their closeness made me uncomfortable, he didn’t care. He chose her feelings over mine, every single time. By the time I got home, the rain had stopped. Sitting in the quiet of my apartment, I picked up my phone and dialed my professor. “Professor Carter,” I said, my voice steady. “Are there any opportunities left for me to study abroad?” Her reply came almost immediately. “Luna, I’ve been waiting for this call! I’m leading a research team overseas next week for a three-year program. If you’re interested, you’re more than welcome to join.” My chest tightened, but not with hesitation—with relief. “I’d love to. Thank you.” The next week would give me enough time to close this chapter of my life, to say goodbye to everything that had been holding me back.

I returned home, showered, and was just about to change into my pajamas when Noah suddenly pushed open the bedroom door. For a moment, my instincts told me to turn my back and tell him to leave, but then I stopped myself. What’s the point? He’d seen everything before. So, I calmly slipped on my pajamas and turned around to face him. That’s when I noticed he was holding a glass of milk, which he placed on the nightstand. He looked tired, his expression worn. “Sarah’s birthday party is over,” he said, pausing for a moment before sighing. “You really overreacted tonight.” He hesitated, then added, “After you left, I saw your missed calls. I’ll admit… that was my mistake.” I cut him off, my tone light. “It’s fine. It’s all in the past. As long as you had fun.” Noah froze, his brows furrowed as he stared at me, as though trying to figure out what I was thinking. I smiled slightly. “Is the milk for me?” He nodded. “Thanks.” Still feeling thirsty after my shower, I picked up the glass and downed it in one go. Noah’s gaze shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “You’re… not mad?” “Mad about what?” I replied, genuinely confused. His expression twisted slightly, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. I yawned, covering my mouth. “Anything else? I’m tired. I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” Noah stared at me in disbelief, his tone turning sharp. “If you’re upset, just say it.” “I’m not upset,” I said, meeting his eyes with sincerity. Noah’s patience snapped. He grabbed my arm, his grip firm. “You are upset. Stop pretending.” Unfortunately for him, his fingers pressed right into a tender spot where I’d scraped my arm earlier. The pain made me flinch, and I instinctively pushed his hand away. His hand froze in midair, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me. Then, without a word, he abruptly stood up, glaring at me with a stormy expression. I ignored him, pulling the blanket over myself and lying down as though he wasn’t even there. He lingered by the bed for a while, his presence heavy and suffocating. Finally, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I knew exactly why he was angry. In Noah’s mind, he’d already extended an olive branch. He expected me to accept it, to “come down” from my imaginary pedestal. But this time, I had no intention of playing along. I slept soundly and didn’t wake up until noon the next day. As I made my way downstairs, Noah approached me, holding a pale yellow dress with the tag still attached. “I noticed your clothes were torn when you came to find me last night. I went out this morning and bought this for you,” he said. “Do you like it?” I glanced at the dress and shook my head politely. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. I have plenty of clothes.” “Try it on,” he insisted, holding the dress up against me. “I even prepared a surprise for you.” As he pressed the dress against me, I felt something small and box-shaped in one of the pockets. Suspicion flickered in my mind, but I didn’t bother to ask. “Just put it aside for now,” I said, brushing past him. “I’m hungry.” Noah stood there, stunned, watching as I walked toward the dining room. He clearly thought that a simple dress would make me light up with excitement, that I’d rush to try it on and post a photo online to show off how much he “cared.” Too bad for him—he was wrong. When I reached the dining table, I noticed takeout containers neatly arranged. Noah must have picked them up earlier. That was new. “Thanks for the food,” I said, sitting down to eat without hesitation. Noah followed me to the table and sat across from me, his gaze fixed on me in silence. I glanced up after a few bites. “What is it?” “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head, though his eyes seemed to hold something unspoken. I ignored him and continued eating, but his stare was impossible to ignore. After a few minutes, I sighed and looked up again. “Why don’t you eat something? The food’s pretty good today.” Noah didn’t move. Instead, his expression darkened slightly. “Aren’t you going to ask about the surprise I mentioned?” I blinked, genuinely surprised. “I figured you’d just show me when you were ready.” His face stiffened, and without another word, he pulled a small, elegant box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside was a diamond bracelet, sparkling under the light. “This is a new design. It’s more expensive than your old one. Consider it yours.” I pushed the box back toward him. “Return it.” Noah’s expression froze. “Things like this are just overpriced luxuries,” I said casually. “You work hard for your money. Don’t waste it.” For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. But I noticed his fists clenching tightly, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to contain his anger. Finally, he spat out through gritted teeth, “Unbelievable.” With that, he stood up abruptly, storming out and slamming the door behind him. I glanced at the table. The food he’d brought remained untouched. The dress and bracelet were tossed carelessly onto the couch, forgotten. Noah didn’t contact me for the rest of the day. He didn’t come home that night, either.

The next day, I finalized my paperwork with my professor. In just two days, I’d be leaving the country. When I returned home to pack, I was surprised to find the house filled with people. The chatter and laughter were almost overwhelming. “Sarah, that dress with the diamond bracelet? You look like a movie star!” “Come on, tell us—who’s the lucky guy who bought it? Is he handsome?” Sarah twirled around in the living room like a butterfly, soaking up the attention as she flaunted her outfit. A small crowd had gathered around her, teasing and admiring her. “Well, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Sarah said with a coy smile. “It’s actually from my boyfriend.” As she spoke, she cast a deliberate glance at Noah, who was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, pretending not to hear. Seeing that Noah didn’t react, Sarah’s smile grew even brighter. She continued bragging, her voice dripping with pride. “At first, I didn’t even want it. But my boyfriend insisted! He said a woman’s wardrobe reflects her man’s status.” Just then, Sarah spotted me walking in. Her expression shifted immediately to a wide, sugary smile. “Oh, Luna! You’re back!” I knew she had seen me enter long before this. Her entire performance had been for my benefit. She wanted me to hear every word, to see her basking in attention, and to watch me lose my composure. But I didn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, I walked in with an easy smile and greeted everyone warmly. “Another gathering today? Make yourselves at home! Feel free to enjoy yourselves.” The room fell quiet for a moment, the atmosphere awkward. Clearly, last night’s events were still fresh in everyone’s minds. Noah glanced at me briefly but said nothing, his expression unreadable. I approached Sarah, giving her an appraising look from head to toe. With a nod of approval, I said, “Sarah, your boyfriend has excellent taste. That dress and bracelet suit you perfectly.” I smiled wider. “When’s the wedding? Don’t forget to invite me, okay?” Sarah froze, her confident demeanor faltering for a split second. Noah’s gaze flicked over to me, his phone momentarily forgotten. The others in the room exchanged uneasy glances, likely expecting me to lash out or make a scene. Instead, I beamed at everyone and added, “Don’t you all think Sarah is the most beautiful woman here today?” That seemed to break the tension. The group relaxed, laughing along as if nothing had happened. “Sarah, be honest now. Where’d you find such a wealthy guy?” “That dress and bracelet together? Must’ve cost at least a hundred grand!” “When did you start dating, huh? Keeping secrets from us?” The teasing came from all sides, and Sarah soaked it up, though her gaze kept darting toward Noah, hoping for a response. Seeing that Noah remained indifferent, she gave me a smug little smile before continuing her performance. “Oh, stop it! It’s not time to go public yet. But let’s just say…” She paused for dramatic effect, her tone growing softer and more intimate. “Last night, I spent the whole night with him. This dress and bracelet? Well…” Before she could finish, Noah, who had been silent on the couch this entire time, suddenly spoke. “Take it off.”

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At my company’s annual party, I was lucky enough to win an iPad. Overjoyed, I rushed home to tell my mom. The next morning, my sister-in-law, Dora, knocked on my door. “Hey, could you give that iPad to your nephew, Mark? He’s been needing one for his studies, online classes, and assignments. You know how it is. You don’t have kids, anyway, so it’s not like you’ll need it. Just hand it over, okay?” I refused. What I didn’t expect was the entire family turning against me over a single iPad. “You’re living off this family after your divorce, and you can’t even spare a free iPad for your nephew?” “Ungrateful brat! Good-for-nothing freeloader!” “I’m not your brother anymore. Get out of this house!” Later, I did move out, but they begged me pitifully, asking me to come back. “Emily, you know how hard your brother works. Mark just started high school this year, and the academic pressure is immense. We don’t have extra money for tutoring classes. That iPad would be perfect for him; it’s great for online courses and practice exercises,” Dora said, gripping my hand with a face full of earnestness. I hesitated. “But I need it, too…” “What could you possibly need it for?” she interrupted, patting the back of my hand dismissively. “Watching videos? Scrolling through apps? You can do all that on your phone, can’t you? Mark is at a critical stage in his education. Shouldn’t his aunt give him a little support?” The iPad I won at the company’s annual party was the latest model, one I’d been wanting for a long time but couldn’t afford. I wasn’t about to hand it over without good reason. “Dora, why don’t you check second-hand platforms? You can find good tablets for a fraction of the price,” I suggested. “What?” Her eyes widened, appalled. “His classmates all have the newest models. How do you expect him to hold his head high with some second-hand junk? He’s a boy; his pride would be crushed!” She shot me a withering glare. “Are you trying to embarrass your nephew on purpose?” Dora felt distressed that my brother worked too hard, yet when I recommended a cheaper one, she doubted my intentions. My patience snapped. “Then, buy him a new one yourself!” Her tone changed immediately. “Why should we spend money when there’s a perfectly good one sitting right here? It’d be such a waste! And anyway, you got it for free. Giving it to Mark wouldn’t cost you a dime. Don’t be so stingy. We’re family! “And look at you now—divorced, no husband, no kids. When you’re old, you’ll have to rely on Mark, anyway!” I laughed coldly, “I’ll pass.” Then, I slammed my bedroom door in her face and left for work.

After my divorce, I moved back to my parents’ house, thinking it would give me some support while juggling work and the legal battle. Dora, however, was less than thrilled. My old room had been turned into a storage space, and she was livid when I started clearing it out. “You don’t need all that space to sleep,” she snapped. “Why can’t the stuff stay where it is?” My room was the smallest in the house, and with all the clutter, there wasn’t even space to turn around. She was basically asking for trouble. But I had just moved back and didn’t want to argue, so I quietly cleaned up. Knowing my presence was an inconvenience, I offered to contribute some money every month as a sort of “board”. Dora feigned modesty. “Oh, don’t be silly, you’re family. What’s money between us?” When I insisted, her attitude flipped. “Well, if it puts your mind at ease, I’ll take it. You just focus on being happy here. I’ll make sure to cook all your favorite dishes!” Two months later, she was complaining at the dinner table about rising grocery prices and her chronic back pain from “doing everything in this house”. One night, while everyone else was watching TV in the living room, she decided to pick a fight. “Mark’s interest classes cost money, you know,” she grumbled. When my brother didn’t cough up the cash, she turned on him. “This house has so many mouths to feed, and you barely bring anything in! I can’t even buy myself a new dress! How did I end up marrying such a useless man? “You’re all nothing but parasites! I must’ve been cursed in my last life to be your servant!” Before she could continue, my brother slapped her across the face. Dora froze, then burst into wails loud enough to shake the walls. “Enough!” My dad slammed his cup down, shattering it. Dora stopped crying, startled. “If you don’t like it here, then leave!” he barked. Dora was about to cry again, but before she could speak, I stepped in. “Dora, I know it’s hard on you. You’ve done so much for this family. I’ll chip in an extra five hundred dollars a month. It’s not much, but it’s something.” That finally calmed her down. My dad shot me a look of disdain. “Ever since you came back, this house has been nothing but trouble. You ruined your husband’s life, and now, you’re ruining ours. Jinx.” He’d never liked me. He thought daughters were liabilities to be married off. My divorce only confirmed his belief, and he never missed an opportunity to remind me of it. Feeling guilty for causing “trouble”, I went out the next day and bought groceries, seafood, and gifts for everyone to smooth things over. But their attitudes didn’t change. Other than my mom occasionally speaking to me, the rest of the family treated me like an unwelcome guest, except when they needed me to pay for something. The summer camp my nephew attended came out of my pocket. I spent a lot of my savings on hiring a lawyer. By the time I realized living there cost more than renting my own place, it was too late. Every penny I spent seemed to benefit them, while I was left with nothing but resentment. Looking back, Dora’s tantrum over my brother’s income was just a ploy. The only one who ended up losing in that situation was me.

After work, I didn’t head straight home. The morning’s confrontation with Dora had left me unwilling to see her for a while. Instead, I called my mom to let her know I’d be late and not to wait for me for dinner. Growing up, my dad ruled the household with an iron fist. When my brother got older, he naturally took on the role of second-in-command. I always thought my mom and I were on the same team. She was soft-spoken, meek, and never had much say in anything. When my brother dropped out of middle school, I’d often come home from school to find him and my dad sprawled on the couch, watching TV or playing video games. Cigarette butts, snacks, and fruit peels littered the floor. Meanwhile, my mom bustled around the house cleaning up after them. She’d sweep the floor, ask them to toss their trash into the bin, and then head to the kitchen to cook. By the time she came back, the place would already be a mess again. I felt sorry for her. Whenever I had time, I’d help with the chores. When my dad hit her, I’d step in between them, trying to shield her, hoping she could have a better life. When I won the iPad, I shared my excitement only with her, making her promise not to tell anyone else. Yet, the next morning, Dora knew. That evening, my mom called to check if I’d be working late. Frustrated, I asked, “Mom, didn’t I tell you not to mention the iPad? How does Dora already know?” She hesitated for a moment before replying meekly, “Oh, last night when you told me, she might’ve overheard a bit. And then she asked me about it this morning…” I snapped, “You could’ve made something up! Now she’s hounding me for it. What am I supposed to do?” “I’m sorry, Emily,” she murmured. “I didn’t think it through. She said Mark needed it for his studies, so I told her…” Despite my repeated warnings, she’d sold me out. I was so angry I could feel it in my chest. For a moment, I said nothing. After a brief silence, she tentatively added, “Emily, if you’re not using it, maybe you could give it to your nephew. Dora can be hard to deal with, but Mark’s studies shouldn’t suffer…” Mark, whose school performance was consistently at the bottom of his class, who was frequently called out for parent-teacher meetings. Suddenly his academic future depended on my iPad as if it were his golden ticket to Harvard or Yale. I hung up, unwilling to argue further. When I finally got home, the house was unusually quiet. This was around the time my nephew was supposed to be in bed, though he often stayed up late, glued to the TV or his phone. Most nights, his resistance would spark loud arguments with his mother in the living room. But tonight, only my parents were there. My brother and his family were nowhere in sight. I retreated to my room, determined to list my iPad for sale online. My finances were tight, and although I’d been wavering between keeping it for myself or selling it for extra cash, Dora’s antics had helped me make up my mind. I opened the drawer of my desk, only to find the iPad missing. It was gone.

My desk drawer had a lock, but it had been so long since I used it that the key was nowhere to be found. I figured it was safe enough at home, so I left for work without a second thought. Yet now, the iPad was gone. My first thought was Dora. Ever since moving back, I’d noticed things mysteriously disappearing, such as half-used skincare products, makeup, clothes I didn’t wear often, face masks, and snacks. These weren’t expensive items, so I decided to let it slide to avoid unnecessary drama. But now, she had the audacity to take something as valuable as my iPad? Fury coursed through me as I stormed out of my room to confront her. My brother was out drinking with friends, leaving Dora and my nephew lounging on their bed. When I barged in, her first instinct was to push the iPad down behind her and her son, but we were too close, and I’d already seen it clearly. “You don’t even knock before coming in?” Dora fired the first shot. I shot back. “And when have you ever knocked before entering my room?” “What kind of attitude is that? Don’t forget who’s house you’re living in!” she snapped. “You eat our food, use our things, and I practically slave away for you every day. No woman would put up with this from her husband’s sister. “And you still live with your parents? If I were you, I’d rather be crashed by a car!” I couldn’t believe the audacity. These tiny houses in the area rented for maybe a thousand dollars tops, yet I was paying her two thousand dollars a month just for the “privilege” of being treated like dirt. “This is my home,” I shouted back. “And I have every right to stay here, even if I don’t pay a single cent!” “Your home?” Dora sneered. “Who do you think you are? No wonder your husband left you. Married for three years and couldn’t even pop out a kid! Women like you deserve to be barren!” What kind of backward, archaic mindset was this? She sounded like having a son was the pinnacle of human achievement, a prize to flaunt. I forced a cold laugh, trying to rein in my temper as I remembered the reason I came here. “I’m not here to argue. Just give me back the iPad.” Her guilty glance at the iPad confirmed my suspicion, but she retorted, “How do you know it’s yours? I bought this today! You see a tablet and go crazy? You’re delusional!” Her shamelessness was mind-boggling. I let out a slow, deliberate laugh before calmly pulling out my phone and called the police. “Every iPad has a unique serial number,” I said coolly. “I took a photo of it and posted it on my social media when I got it. You’d better stick to your story when the police arrive.” Her face twisted in panic as I was about to press the call button. She lunged at me, knocking the phone from my hand. It hit the ground with a sickening crack, the screen shattering on impact. She didn’t stop there. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, she screamed, “You dare call the cops? I’ll kill you!” Anger surged through me, and adrenaline gave me unexpected strength. I shoved her hard, sending her sprawling onto the edge of the bed. Seeing his mother fall, my nephew, who had been lounging like a lazy lion cub, suddenly sprang into action. Towering over me, he pointed a finger at my nose and yelled, “How dare you push my mom!” This boy, tall and burly for his age, had been sweet-talking me for money ever since I moved in. His “Auntie, you’re the best!” routine had always netted him fifty dollars here, fifty dollars there. I thought our relationship was decent, not close, but far from hostile. Yet here he was, fists clenched, ready to charge at me like a rabid dog. As he swung, my parents finally appeared in the doorway, drawn by the commotion. “Are you all out of your minds? I’m not dead yet!” my father roared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip. Dora, now fully recovered, darted to my parents, dramatically clutching her arm. “Look at what your precious daughter has done to me!” she wailed. “She pushed me, threatened to call the police, and claimed I stole her iPad! Call them! Let’s see who they take away, her for hitting me or me for doing absolutely nothing wrong!” Before I could open my mouth to defend myself, my father’s hand lashed out, a slap that landed squarely on my cheek. The force left me stunned, clutching my stinging face as my surroundings blurred. The room fell deathly silent. Even Dora, mid-sob, shut her mouth. My mother’s lips quivered as tears welled in her eyes, but I couldn’t hear her over the ringing in my ears. My father’s face was a mask of rage as he spat, “All you do is embarrassing me! If you cause one more problem, don’t bother coming back to this house!”

I had feared my father since childhood; his authority was absolute in our household. When he was younger, his temper was even more volatile, often waking me in the middle of the night with his yelling. He’d come home drunk, and if my mother so much as uttered a word of advice or took too long to answer the door, he’d grab her hair and shove her onto the couch to beat her. I never knew if other fathers were like this. Growing up, the way he looked at me was filled with hatred, but he lavished my brother with affection. When introducing my brother, he’d beam with pride, calling him “my son” even though my brother was a troublemaker with no redeeming qualities. As for me? Even though I consistently excelled in school, at home, I was treated like a servant to be ordered around. I rarely spoke to my father or looked him in the eye. I never resisted him, except for one instance when he hit my mother. I couldn’t stand it and threw myself over her. Now, hearing his angry command to stop, my instinct was to back down, just as I always had. But as I looked around at Dora’s smug face, my hateful nephew, my father’s heaving chest, and my mother’s tear-streaked, helpless expression, I felt an overwhelming wave of disgust. Closing my eyes, I pushed down all my resentment and pain, speaking as calmly as I could. “It was Dora who took my iPad first.” Dora immediately shrieked, “There she goes again! Still lying through your teeth at a time like this! Does it have your name on it? How dare you. You’re trying to scam me because you’re desperate!” I let out a sneer. “You know exactly who’s scamming who. Are you absolutely sure you bought this iPad today?” “Of course!” She shot back. “Good. Then, I can rest easy,” I replied, my tone laced with sarcasm. “If I prove it’s mine, what are you prepared to do?” Dora faltered, glancing at the upturned iPad, then straightened her posture with feigned confidence. “What do you want?” “You’ll bow and apologize, then compensate me for a new iPad and phone at full price.” “Why should I?” Dora roared, her face red with anger. My father, feeling his authority undermined, barked, “I told you to stop this nonsense!” His barely contained fury made me flinch instinctively, but today, I wasn’t going to back down. “You said you bought it this morning. So, why are you afraid? Guilty conscience?” “Afraid? Of what?” Dora spat, her voice dripping with defiance. She turned to my dad and added, “Look at her! She wants me to kneel! Who does she think she is? No manners at all!” The last four words hit my father like a slap in the face. His expression turned a mix of green and white as he glanced at Dora, his gaze tinged with displeasure. Dora, oblivious to his reaction, continued her relentless verbal assault on me. Annoyed, I interrupted her tirade, “Wanna bet? If I can’t prove it’s mine, I’ll pay you ten times the price.” To ensure she understood, I added, “This model costs nearly five thousand dollars on the official website. Ten times means fifty thousand dollars. Are you in or not?” Dora hesitated for a moment, but the mention of fifty thousand dollars made her eyes gleam with greed.

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Everyone knew that Lucas Ryan only married me out of spite because he couldn’t have the one he truly loved. For five years of marriage, he was the perfect husband in public—a renowned cardiologist adored by many.But behind closed doors, he was cold, distant, and had asked for a divorce more times than I could count. Then his first love, Evelyn Snow, returned to the country due to illness. Lucas devoted himself to her care, never leaving her side. He even warned me repeatedly:“Eve’s heart condition is delicate. If you dare show up and stress her out, we’re done for good.” Finally, during his hundredth demand for a divorce, I agreed. What Lucas didn’t know, however, was that I was already carrying his child. On the way to the courthouse to finalize the divorce, I was in a car accident. Both my life and my unborn child’s were lost in an instant. Lucas didn’t get the divorce papers that day, but he did get the news that Evelyn had found a perfect heart donor match. Excited, he rushed back to the hospital and performed the surgery himself, taking the heart from my lifeless body and placing it into hers. It wasn’t until later that he remembered our divorce—but by then, my phone would never ring again.

The pain finally disappeared the moment my soul left my body. I hovered above the scene, staring at the mangled car smoking in the rain. The driver’s seat was crushed beyond recognition, and the body slumped inside was twisted and broken in every way imaginable. Today was supposed to mark our fifth wedding anniversary. Ironically, it was also the day Lucas asked for a divorce for the hundredth time. Over the years, I had tried to ignore the cracks in our fragile relationship, hoping that somehow, we’d make it work. But this time, I finally agreed to let go. Five years is a long time, even if most of it was marked by distance and tension. Regardless of how things were, we’d spent a significant part of our lives together. But everything changed a month ago when Evelyn returned from abroad, her health deteriorating. From that moment on, Lucas never came home. He stayed at the hospital, tirelessly caring for her. Everyone knew he had married me out of anger and heartbreak after Evelyn rejected him. But I had loved him for years, long before he even knew my name. So, even when I found out the truth, I stayed. Loving him was as natural as breathing, no matter how much it hurt. My thoughts returned to the present as I watched the ambulance from St. Mercy’s Hospital load my broken body into the back. I followed instinctively. Lucas worked at St. Mercy’s, where he was a legendary cardiologist. Patients and staff worshipped him. Yet, as his wife, I couldn’t even go to him for a cold. On our wedding day, he had made it clear:“I don’t want to see you at my workplace.”“And don’t bother me over trivial things.” That’s why I never told him I was pregnant. As I floated above the ambulance, my hand drifted to my stomach. The life I had carried, the one I had dreamed of for years, was gone now—just like me. Tears streamed down my face, silent and endless, as an ache settled deep in my chest. That child was supposed to be my miracle, my hope after five long years. My body wasn’t taken to the morgue. Instead, it was wheeled into the operating room on the fifth floor. The door to the operating room opened, and two figures stepped inside. “Dr. Ryan, this isn’t legal without the family’s consent…” The voice belonged to Mason, Lucas’s protégé. I knew him well; over the years, he had eaten countless meals I’d brought for Lucas. Evelyn scoffed and crossed her arms as she walked toward my lifeless body. She glanced at me before quickly turning her head, unable to hide the disgust in her eyes. “I’ve waited far too long for a compatible heart. I’m not about to let this opportunity slip away,” she said coldly. Then, without hesitation, she turned to Mason. “Call Lucas. Tell him to come back and perform the surgery himself.” Mason hesitated, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He opened his mouth as if to protest but said nothing. Evelyn pulled out a card from her purse and handed it to him. “There’s fifty grand on this card. This stays between us. No one has to know.” Mason stared at the card, torn between guilt and greed. Finally, after a long pause, he took it and dialed Lucas. The phone rang a few times before Lucas’s voice filled the room. “What is it?” he asked, sounding impatient. Mason glanced at Evelyn before answering softly. “Dr. Ryan, we found a suitable donor for Evelyn. The body is in the operating room. You should come back.” The indifference in Lucas’s voice evaporated, replaced by palpable excitement. “Are you serious?! I’ll be there right away!” “Eve won’t have to worry about this anymore…” His voice was jubilant, overflowing with relief and joy. Each word felt like a dagger to my chest. My tears blurred everything as I looked at the operating table where my body lay. If Lucas knew it was my heart he was about to take, would he still sound so happy?

It didn’t even take thirty minutes for Lucas Ryan to return to the hospital. Out of breath, he rushed down the hallway and pulled Evelyn Snow into his arms. His voice was filled with relief and joy as he said,“Evelyn, you’re finally going to be okay.” Hearing this, Evelyn’s eyes welled up with tears, and she leaned into his chest, her voice trembling as she whispered,“Lucas, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t even want this heart… I’d rather give up.” Lucas tightened his embrace, gently placing a kiss on her forehead. His voice was full of unwavering promise:“Don’t worry. I’ll divorce Claire soon.”“I only married her because I was angry with you.” Even though this was something everyone seemed to know, hearing it from Lucas’s own lips still sent a sharp pain through my heart. So, this was how deeply he loved Evelyn Snow. So, even after five years, I hadn’t been able to melt the ice around his heart. The ache in my chest deepened as Lucas comforted Evelyn, telling her to prepare for surgery. He then walked into the operating room with Mason to scrub in. Performing a heart transplant was nothing more than routine for Lucas. It was the kind of procedure he could do with his eyes closed. But when he saw the bloodied body lying on the operating table, he couldn’t help but frown. “Mason, why wasn’t this cleaned up before it was brought in?” he asked, his tone sharp. Mason hesitated, his nervous gaze avoiding Lucas’s. He stammered,“Dr. Ryan, Evelyn’s match is so rare… And, well… keeping the heart fresh was the priority.” Lucas didn’t respond right away. Instead, he took the scalpel from Mason’s hand and prepared to begin. But just as he was about to make the first incision, he paused. I followed his gaze and realized he was staring at my left hand. There, on my ring finger, was the diamond wedding ring I had designed myself. The blood that covered it only made it more striking. I had even made Lucas a matching band for our wedding, but he had hated it. On the day of our marriage, he locked it away in a drawer and never wore it again. “What’s wrong, Dr. Ryan?” Mason asked, confused by his hesitation. Lucas shook his head but spoke with a faint trace of regret in his voice.“She was unlucky. Her husband must be devastated.” As he said this, he made the incision, opening up my chest. Mason stood beside him, passing him tools as needed. At one point, he added,“And… after running the tests, we found out she was two months pregnant.” “Really tragic when you think about it.” This time, Lucas didn’t reply. The atmosphere in the room grew heavier, like an invisible weight pressing down on everyone. I watched him from a distance, memories flooding back. Last winter, I fell terribly ill. My fever was so high that I couldn’t even get out of bed. Lucas was home that night, but he barely noticed. He was too busy working on a paper for some medical journal. I spent the entire night shivering and burning up, too weak to call for help. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, the doctors said I had narrowly escaped death. When I finally woke up, the first thing Lucas did was scold me. “You’re an adult. If you’re feeling this bad, why didn’t you say something?!” His eyes were cold, filled with anger. “Or was this your way of getting my attention?” I didn’t have the strength to argue with him. I wanted to remind him that he had always told me not to bother him, even if I was sick. I had been nothing but obedient, so why was he still angry? Now, standing in this operating room, I couldn’t help but wonder: How could Lucas show compassion for a stranger but be so heartless toward me, the woman who had been by his side for five years?

The heart was successfully transplanted. Six hours later, it beat again—this time inside Evelyn Snow’s body. The moment Lucas Ryan stepped out of the operating room, he went straight to Evelyn’s recovery ward. He stood by her bedside, watching her sleep peacefully. Only then did he let out a long sigh of relief. Once he was sure Evelyn was stable, Lucas returned to his office. He sank into his chair and pulled out his phone, only to find the screen blank—no messages, no missed calls. It was strange. I used to text him endlessly every single day, sharing every mundane detail of my life—what I ate, what I was working on, how my day went. But Lucas never responded. Not once. He stared at his phone for a few moments, then opened his contacts. His thumb hovered over my name before he hesitated, but eventually, he made the call. The line rang and rang, the mechanical tone echoing in the silence, until it automatically disconnected. On the other end, there was no one to pick up. Frustrated, Lucas put the phone down, opened our old chat thread, and recorded two voice messages, his irritation unmistakable: “Claire, you already agreed to the divorce. Whether you answer your phone or not won’t change my decision.”“And don’t think playing hard to get will make me reconsider.” I watched him angrily send the messages, a faint smile tugging at my lips. It was bitter and hollow. “Lucas Ryan,” I murmured softly, “if you hated me this much, why did you marry me in the first place?” But it didn’t matter anymore. The wife he despised had died in today’s storm. He wouldn’t have to deal with me ever again. For the first time, Lucas’s messages disappeared into the void, unanswered. I faded from his world, quietly and without a trace. And yet, he didn’t look for me. He assumed I was being difficult, hiding away because I didn’t want the divorce. He was so certain of it that he didn’t bother to question my absence. Meanwhile, my body lay unclaimed in the hospital morgue. It wasn’t surprising. After all, I was an orphan. Growing up in a group home, I had no family to call my own. My only real accomplishment in life was earning a spot at one of the country’s top design schools. And, of course, marrying Lucas Ryan. Back in college, Lucas wasn’t just the star of the medical school—he was the star. Top of his class, impossibly handsome, and untouchable, he was the dream of every girl on campus. Even at my school across town, everyone had heard about the perfect love story between Lucas Ryan and Evelyn Snow. The first time I saw him was at a joint event between our universities. He stood tall in the crowd, dressed in a custom-tailored suit that screamed wealth and elegance. He spoke with effortless charm, surrounded by people who seemed magnetically drawn to him. His presence was so dazzling, it was almost blinding. That night, I was cornered by a drunken guy who wouldn’t leave me alone. Lucas was the one who stepped in, pulling me out of the situation. My quiet, reserved heart raced for the first time. But I knew better. Lucas Ryan was a world apart from me. He was untouchable, and besides, he already had Evelyn. So I buried my feelings deep inside, content to admire him from a distance. It was a foolish dream, I thought. People like me—those who clawed their way out of the dirt—had no business reaching for stars like him. I thought that would be the first and last time our paths crossed. But fate had other plans. Lucas and Evelyn eventually broke up. I wasn’t sure why, and it wasn’t my place to ask. One sunny afternoon, I happened to be delivering custom cufflinks to one of Lucas’s friends. Lucas was there, standing by the window, bathed in golden light. He looked up at me, his gaze calm and detached, and asked a question that would change everything: “Do you want to marry me?”

“Claire still isn’t answering her phone?” In the hospital room, Evelyn Snow’s pale face grew even more ashen. Her eyes reddened, and tears spilled over as she looked at Lucas Ryan, her voice trembling. “Lucas, in the five years you were married to her… did you really never feel anything for her? Not even once?” Her voice cracked as she continued, her emotions unraveling. “Is she really missing, or are you lying to me? Was this all a trick because… you never actually wanted to marry me? Because you never forgave me for leaving you back then?” By the time she finished, Evelyn burst into heart-wrenching sobs. I stood by the window, quietly leaning against the frame, watching them. My emotions had oddly settled over the past few days. I wasn’t even angry anymore. I had expected this. I guessed Lucas would pull her into his arms, soothing her like he always did. And sure enough, a second later, he frowned, stood, and wrapped the trembling Evelyn in a comforting embrace. See? I guessed right. “Claire agreed to the divorce,” he said calmly, patting Evelyn’s back as if to reassure her. “I don’t know why she suddenly disappeared, but don’t worry. I’ll go through with the divorce.” “And then I’ll marry you.” Just as those words left his mouth, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Before Lucas could react, two uniformed police officers walked into the room. Lucas froze, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Officers, is there a problem?” Before the police could respond, the door burst open again. Mason stumbled in, panting heavily, his face pale as he stammered, “Dr. Ryan… C-Claire… Claire is dead.”

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The day my wife gave birth to a child for her terminally ill first love, her parents hired ten security guards to stand outside the delivery room. But even as the delivery ended, I didn’t show up to make a scene. Her mother held her hand, comforting her. “Sarah, don’t worry. As long as we’re here, he won’t get within ten feet of you.” “Your dad’s stationed at the hospital entrance too. If he dares to come here and stop you from having this baby, we’ll call the police!” Sarah, pale and exhausted, nodded weakly, but her eyes kept darting toward the elevator doors. When she saw only empty hallways, she finally exhaled in relief. She couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t just support her decision to have a child for her first love, Thomas. Looking at the nurse cradling the crying newborn, Sarah smiled with satisfaction. She thought to herself, If Brian comes to see me tomorrow, I’ll let bygones be bygones. I’ll even let him raise this child as his own father. What she didn’t know was that I had submitted my application to the United Nations earlier that day. In seven days, I would renounce my citizenship to become a doctor with Doctors Without Borders. I would leave this country—and her—forever. The day Sarah left the maternity recovery center, I had just finished handing over my hospital responsibilities. As I approached the front door, I heard laughter and cheerful voices inside. “This baby is gorgeous! Those big eyes—definitely got the best features from his dad,” Sarah’s mother cooed as she played with the baby in her arms. Meanwhile, Thomas was walking out of the kitchen with a steaming bowl of chicken soup. “I made this myself. You’re still weak; you need to take care of yourself,” he said, sitting beside Sarah and gently feeding her like they were the perfect little family. Sarah’s father sat nearby, shaking a rattle for the baby, grinning ear to ear. “This kid is just so lovable! Definitely takes after his dad. Thank God it’s not Brian—that guy’s such a bore. Imagine having a doctor for a father—what a nightmare!” My hand tightened on the doorknob. I thought back to the first time I met Sarah’s father. He had slapped me on the back and said being a doctor was a noble calling, how saving lives was an honor for the whole family. He even mentioned that he, too, had been a doctor before retiring early after a workplace injury. But now, here he was, sneering about how a doctor didn’t deserve a family. I lowered my head and let out a bitter laugh. Sarah and I had been married for three years. She told me early on that she didn’t want kids, and I respected that. I knew how dangerous childbirth could be, so I never pressured her. I still remember the day I left for my year-long advanced medical training abroad. She had cried so hard, saying she couldn’t bear to be apart from me. For that entire year, we talked every day, sharing every little detail of our lives. Even my colleagues teased me, saying we were like newlyweds who couldn’t get enough of each other, even after three years of marriage. But then, a month ago, I managed to take a break and fly home. After sitting through an exhausting eight-hour flight, I didn’t even stop to rest. I rushed straight home, only to find Sarah heavily pregnant, standing beside her first love, Thomas. My thoughts were interrupted by Thomas’s voice. “Brian, when did you get back? Why are you just standing there? Come in!” At his words, everyone in the room turned to look at me. When Sarah’s father noticed the resignation letter in my hand, his expression darkened. “Why the hell did I ever agree to let my daughter marry someone like you? What a disgrace. Quitting your job now—what are you planning to do? Live off us?!” “What kind of husband are you, huh?” Sarah’s mother jumped in, her voice sharp. “You quit your job? You couldn’t even hold onto a high-paying, stable career as a doctor? What else can you do?” “Sarah just had a baby! She and the child need money for everything! Are you planning to let the three of them starve?” I couldn’t help but laugh at her words. “Whose wife and child? Whoever they belong to should be the one providing for them.” “Brian, what’s that supposed to mean?!” Sarah’s voice rose, her eyes red with anger. She glared at me, her chest heaving with frustration. She coughed violently, and Thomas quickly moved to comfort her, rubbing her back with a look of concern. Taking a deep breath, Sarah shouted, “Three years ago, if it wasn’t for Thomas saving me in that car accident, I’d be dead! His parents are gone, and now he’s been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Soon, the world won’t even remember him!” “Why do you keep targeting him? Do you really think I’m some kind of filthy, immoral woman?” Thomas gave her a pained look before turning to me. “Brian, just let it go. This is all my fault. I promise I’ll disappear from your lives from now on. Just don’t let me ruin your marriage.” I looked at the four of them—the perfect little family—and felt a wave of irony wash over me. So this was what a real family looked like. Sarah took a deep breath before speaking again. “Brian, my patience has limits. If you keep badmouthing Thomas for no reason, then don’t bother coming home anymore!” “If you want to stay married to me, you’ll behave yourself. At the baby’s party next week, I’ll even announce in front of all our friends and family that you’re the baby’s father.” Next week? I glanced at the baby sleeping peacefully in the crib. By next week, I’d already be on a plane to another country. But before I left, I didn’t mind giving them a parting gift they’d never forget. Without a change in expression, I nodded. “Alright.” 2 After finishing my sentence, I didn’t bother to wait for their reaction. I turned and headed to the bedroom to pack my things. Since I’d already decided to leave for good, I didn’t want to leave any trace of myself behind. The laughter from the living room seeped through the closed door as I folded my clothes, making my hands pause for a moment. “Thomas, I’ve been thinking…” Sarah’s voice drifted in, soft but filled with affection. “I’d like the baby to have your last name. That way, no matter who he calls ‘Dad’ in the future, he’ll always remember that you are his real father.” Even without seeing her face, I could imagine the tender smile she must have worn as she said those words. And just like that, my heart, already riddled with wounds, took another blow. My mind flashed back to last month, when I’d flown home after a year abroad. I’d been so eager to see Sarah that I hadn’t cared about the long flight. I even brought home a special gift I’d picked out for her. But the moment I reached our front door, I froze. There she was, walking hand-in-hand with Thomas, laughing as they returned from a stroll. Sarah’s face turned pale with panic when she saw me, but Thomas just looked confused, staring at me like I was a stranger who’d wandered into the wrong house. “Are you sure you’ve got the right door?” he asked, his tone casual and mocking. I didn’t say a word. My eyes were fixed on Sarah’s swollen belly. Eleven months. I’d been gone for eleven months, and now my wife was pregnant. No matter how much I wanted to lie to myself, there was no way this child could be mine. Sarah’s panic grew as she rushed to stand between us, stammering an introduction. “This is my husband, Brian…” I thought Thomas would back off after hearing that, but instead, he acted like he owned the place. With an infuriating smirk, he invited me—invited me—into my own home. As we passed each other in the doorway, he leaned in close and whispered, just loud enough for me to hear: “I hear you’re a bit older than me. Guess I should call you ‘big bro.’ After all, my kid’s living in your house.” My blood boiled. I couldn’t take it anymore. Without thinking, I swung my fist and slammed it into his face. Years of longing, frustration, and betrayal erupted all at once. If there’d been a knife nearby, I might’ve done something I’d regret for the rest of my life. The neighbors must’ve heard the commotion because it wasn’t long before the police arrived. We were both taken to the station, but since it was deemed a “domestic matter,” the cops couldn’t intervene. They sent us home with a warning. When we got back, Sarah’s parents were waiting for us. Before I could explain, they immediately tore into me. “How dare you cause such a scene the moment you come back? Do you know how embarrassing this is for us? The whole neighborhood must think we’re a joke now!” “All those years of school, and this is what you’ve learned? Resorting to violence? If something had happened to Thomas, we’d never forgive you!” It was then I realized they’d known about Sarah and Thomas all along—and not only that, they supported it. In just one year, Thomas had become their perfect son-in-law, while I’d been kept in the dark. Bitter laughter bubbled in my throat as Sarah nervously approached me, trying to take my hand. “I never meant to betray you, Brian,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Thomas… he’s not well. The doctors said he only has six months to live. I couldn’t bear the thought of him dying without leaving behind a child.” “I wanted to tell you, but you were so far away, and I didn’t want to distract you from your work. I thought we could talk about it when you got back.” “Brian, we can raise this baby together. Please?” She spoke about having a child so casually, as if it were just another errand on her to-do list. I didn’t respond. I just zipped up my suitcase and turned to leave. Before I could reach the door, Sarah’s mother walked in. She glanced at the suitcase by my feet and gave me a condescending smile. “Good. At least you know your place. While you were gone, I let Thomas stay in your room. The study’s been turned into a nursery, so you can sleep on the couch tonight—or better yet, find a hotel.” I was too drained to argue. Nodding silently, I headed to the living room and lay down on the couch. That night, the baby’s cries echoed from the bedroom. I rolled over and reached for my earplugs, but then I heard Sarah’s annoyed voice. “Thomas, can’t you do something? He won’t stop crying.” “You’re my baby too,” Thomas teased. “Why don’t I take care of you instead? Let the little guy cry—it’s good for his lungs.” Sarah giggled, whispering something too soft for me to hear, followed by the unmistakable sound of rustling sheets. I pulled the blanket over my head, trying to block out the noise. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sarah’s face from the night she first confessed her love to me—so pure, so full of hope. That version of her was gone, replaced by someone I no longer recognized. 3 I barely slept through the night, tossing and turning on the couch. At dawn, I grabbed my suitcase and left without a word. My first stop was the municipal office, where I filed the paperwork to renounce my citizenship and finalize my plans to leave the country. The process was surprisingly quick—having the right government approvals made everything smooth, and the clerk didn’t ask many questions. Just as I was about to leave, the clerk called out to me. She handed me a small piece of candy, her smile kind. “May your wishes come true,” she said softly. I gave her a faint smile, thanked her, and walked out. After checking into a nearby hotel and dropping off my suitcase, I decided to head out and find something to eat. But as fate would have it, I ran into Sarah and Thomas, surrounded by her parents—and their new baby. Thomas looked nothing like a man on the brink of death. He was dressed in a tailored Armani suit, his face glowing with health. “Brian! Wow, I thought I saw you earlier, but Sarah insisted it couldn’t be you,” Thomas called out, his voice dripping with mock surprise. His eyes landed on the recruitment flyer in my hand, and a smirk spread across his face. “So, you’re out here job hunting, huh? With your scrawny frame, are you planning to work construction? Seems like a bit much for you, doesn’t it?” I didn’t respond. The flyer had been handed to me by a young girl on the street, shivering as she stood in the winter cold. Out of sympathy, I’d taken it from her without even looking at it. Thomas took my silence as an opportunity to continue. His laughter grew louder, more mocking. “You should’ve told me you needed help. Who knows? Maybe I could’ve pulled some strings for you. After all, we’re family now, right? If you do well, Sarah will be happy, and I’ll sleep better at night knowing she’s taken care of.” His words hung in the air. My silence must’ve looked like agreement because Sarah’s expression darkened. Her brows furrowed deeply, and the disdain in her eyes became impossible to miss. “Why would anyone help him? He quit a perfectly good job as a doctor, and now he’s out here looking for work? If he starves on the streets, that’s his own fault. He deserves no sympathy.” She crossed her arms, glaring at me. “Brian, you really have no sense of responsibility, do you? What, you think this little act will guilt me into giving up the baby? Dream on.” I looked at her face—once so familiar, filled with warmth and love. Now, she was a stranger to me. I thought back to the early days of our marriage. Once, when the hospital’s cutthroat competition had left me demoralized and considering a career change, Sarah had held me close. I could still hear her voice as she gently patted my back and whispered in my ear: “We’re in this together, no matter what. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.” “Who cares if you leave the hospital? You’re brilliant, and I know you’ll shine no matter where you go. I’ll always be by your side.” But now, that same woman stood by silently as another man humiliated me. She’d forgotten those promises. She’d forgotten the love we once shared. Even her parents, who had once welcomed me into their family with open arms, were now shaking their heads in disappointment. Sarah’s father let out a heavy sigh. “I must’ve been blind to think you could give my daughter the future she deserves.” “Good thing we’re still around,” her mother added. “If we weren’t here to protect Sarah, who knows what kind of life she’d have with someone like you?” Their voices grew louder, more exaggerated, and I could feel the stares of passersby on the street. My hands slowly clenched at my sides. I was about to speak when Thomas stepped forward, his voice filled with mock sincerity. “We’re actually on our way to take a family portrait. Brian, why don’t you join us? After all, I’ll be counting on you to help take care of Sarah and the baby in the future.” Before I could respond, Sarah let out a cold laugh and cut him off. “Are you serious? Look at him—he looks so pathetic. If he gets in the picture, he’ll just drag down the whole family’s image.” With that, she turned around and started walking toward the photography studio, not bothering to look back. “Hurry up, Thomas,” she called out impatiently. Thomas gave me a smug smile and patted me on the shoulder. “Well, we don’t want to hold you up, Brian. Good luck with the job hunt.” I watched them walk away, their laughter fading into the distance. From the outside, they must’ve looked like the picture-perfect family. If that was the life Sarah wanted, who was I to stand in her way? Letting go was the only gift I had left to give her. 4 Three days before I was set to leave, I received a message from the hospital director. He told me that the cardiologist I’d reached out to—a world-renowned expert—was in town for a medical conference. It was the perfect opportunity to have him examine Sarah’s father’s heart condition. Sarah’s father had always had heart issues. Years ago, he’d even been rushed to the ER for emergency surgery. While I was abroad for my medical training, I collected case studies and resources to help manage his condition. No matter what had happened between us, I still felt obligated to help. After all, years of being family couldn’t be erased overnight. I figured this would be my last act of goodwill before cutting ties with them completely. But when I told him about the appointment, his face darkened immediately. “Why on earth would I go to the hospital? Are you trying to curse me or something? That bypass surgery I had years ago was a success—what’s the point of another checkup?” “There’s a top cardiologist in town today,” I explained calmly. “It would be a good chance to get ahead of any potential issues—” Before I could finish, he hurled a water glass at me, the contents splashing across my shirt. “Cut the crap! You think a jobless bum like you could get an appointment with a top expert? Stop bragging! Thomas stayed up all night once to get me an appointment with a specialist. Where were you when I needed that?” Every word, every comparison to Thomas, made his opinion of me crystal clear. No matter what I did, I would always be wrong. No matter how hard I tried, I would never measure up to Thomas.

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