Category: English

While trying on my wedding dress, a message from an unknown woman appeared on my phone. “I’m pregnant, and I can’t get ahold of your fiancé. Can you pass the message along?” My fingers went numb, and with eyes burning, I confronted Evan. But he just deleted the text dismissively. “Probably just one of my friends losing a bet on truth or dare,” he said. On the drive home, usually smooth and steady, he nearly ran several red lights. He gently unfastened my seatbelt and, with an apologetic look, said, “I can’t make dinner tonight; I’ll be working late.” As I watched his car speed away, it felt like a massive weight was sinking to the pit of my stomach. Ten years of us together, and it was all unraveling. Numb, I drifted into the study and opened my laptop to email Dr. Marla Hawthorne. I had put off attending Stanford because of a surprise pregnancy, choosing instead to sacrifice my dreams for family. But life had dealt me a harsh blow. Luckily, I’d only deferred my admission a year rather than give up my place entirely. After I sent the email, I booked a flight to the U.S. two weeks from now. Then a video popped up on my screen. Evan, looking tender, lifted a woman into his arms, gently placed her on a bed, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead. The sight felt like a searing hot brand across my face, ripping away a layer of my skin. I wanted to scream at him: Does he put on this act of devotion for any woman he pleases? All this time, I thought I was his one true love, but I was nothing more than one of his many distractions. In the video, their voices mingled intimately. “Who do you truly love?” she asked. With a quiet murmur, he replied, “Only you.” I watched the video on repeat, each time like a dagger twisting deeper into my heart. I sat there until dusk when the low-battery alert shook me awake. I shut the video, forced my numb legs to move, and packed a suitcase. Just as I dragged a box to the door, Evan arrived, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He glanced at the open box and laughed. “You’re finally throwing out these dioramas? I thought you’d cherish them forever.” “Honestly, they just take up space.” These handcrafted dioramas had taken me countless sleepless nights to create, but to him, they were nothing but junk. “Leave them; I’ll have someone toss them out,” he said, holding out a paper bag. “I went all the way to the Uptown District for Sweet Pecan Bread. It’s the last batch; I paid triple for it.” He gripped my wrist, his gaze warm, waiting for me to laugh and fall into his arms like I always did. But that familiar apple-cinnamon scent mingled with the cloying perfume of another woman overwhelmed me with nausea. I pulled my hand free, murmuring, “Get away from me.” His smile faded into irritation, his voice turning cold. “What’s the matter? This is your favorite.” I lifted my head, meeting his questioning eyes with a distant gaze. “I’m sick of it. People’s tastes change.” Just like trust, it’s fleeting. His brow furrowed, anger simmering in his eyes as he snapped, “I’ve already explained—this was just a friend’s joke.” “If you insist on imagining things, that’s on you.”

A laugh slipped out before I could hold it back. Who was he to yell at me? Was he enraged because I’d uncovered the truth? Just standing in the same space made my skin crawl, so I grabbed my keys and walked past his cold, stone face. His barely restrained anger followed me out the door. “You can’t just throw a tantrum whenever you want,” he called out. “Where will you go without me?” The crunch of dry autumn leaves sounded beneath my feet, blurring my vision. My parents had divorced in middle school, each eager to take my brother but indifferent toward me, leaving me adrift. Only Evan’s mother, who’d watched me grow up, secretly supported me. At school, when others mocked and ostracized me, Evan alone stood by my side, fists clenched in defiance, shielding me with fierce loyalty, even if it meant getting beaten up. At eighteen, bruised and sore, he would still flash a silly grin to make me laugh. “Don’t cry. I’ll protect you forever,” he’d promised. Now, at twenty-eight, he stormed toward me, grabbing my arm harshly. “Enough, Sloane. You’re acting like some spiteful woman threatening to leave over nothing.” He’d driven me to the edge and now dared to lecture me as if I were unstable. I almost wanted to tear away his mask, to make him see the wreckage he’d caused. Could he really keep up this righteous act? I reached for my phone to play that damning video, but a new message appeared. The photo showed Evan and that woman under fireworks, locked in a passionate kiss. March 15th. That night, rumors had spread of a mysterious man setting off fireworks to confess his love. I had taken a picture of the night sky, hoping to share the moment with him. In the crowd, I’d been jostled, falling to the ground with a searing pain in my abdomen as blood pooled around me. I’d tried calling Evan, but he never answered. While the doctor’s tools probed coldly into my body, scraping away life piece by piece, what had he been doing with her? The memory stung like venom as numbness settled over me. “Sloane, what’s wrong? You look terrible.” Evan held my shoulders, his eyes full of concern. I calmly pushed him away, then slapped him hard across the face, flinging my phone at him. “You’re disgusting!” I yelled. His eyes shifted from fury to panic as he tried to pull me close. The calm, controlled Evan I knew had vanished. “I can explain, Sloane. Don’t watch that.” His hands trembled as he tried to delete the video but failed repeatedly. “The doctor said you might not be able to get pregnant again.” “I just wanted her to have the baby, then I’d send her abroad. I wouldn’t stay in touch.” “You like kids, don’t you?” Suddenly, the world fell silent, the only sound the fierce thumping of my heart. I’d imagined every possible confrontation, but nothing prepared me for this grotesque explanation. Did he even know what he was saying? I couldn’t help but laugh, dignity cast aside as tears streamed down my face. “It’s over,” I whispered, those words draining the last of my strength.

Evan’s gaze was anguished as he reached for my hand, only to hesitate and clench his fist, striking the wall instead. His voice was rough with desperation. “Sloane, please, the wedding’s close. If it’s canceled, it would break my mom’s heart.” “It’s her greatest wish to see us married.” “Whatever you feel for me, remember what she’s done for you. Please, Sloane.” The usually proud Evan now hunched slightly, his eyes reddened. “Don’t leave me, Sloane.” Memories flooded in, the nights his mother had comforted me. “Sloane, don’t worry, Auntie will stay with you.” “Look at this new dress I got you, and the butterfly clip—isn’t it pretty?” “Anyone who dares hurt Sloane will answer to me. She’s my daughter.” A painful tightness gripped my chest, forcing me to breathe deeply as questions and anger welled up, threatening to burst. I opened my mouth to speak, but Evan’s gaze shifted past me, whispering, “Ella Rae.” I froze, turning to see her—a fragile-looking woman with a hand on her stomach, facing me with teary eyes. “I’m sorry, Sloane,” she murmured. “I just don’t want my baby to be fatherless.” “You, of all people, would understand… after all, you didn’t have…” “Stop!” Evan shouted, panic in his voice. He turned to me, reaching out, but grasped only air. How absurd. He knew how deeply that hurt, and yet he’d casually recounted it to another woman, turning my scars into idle conversation. Ella Rae approached me, apologetic but whispered with venom, “Unwanted orphan.” I knew her game—she wanted to drive a wedge between me and Evan. So, I gave her what she wanted. Raising my hand, I aimed to slap her, but Evan seized my wrist. I pulled my other arm free and slapped her across the face with everything I had. Her cheek instantly reddened. Furious, Evan pushed me away. “Sloane, when did you become so heartless?” “She’s pregnant!” I lifted my chin and met his glare, coldly replying, “I just realized how vile and hypocritical you are.” Dusting myself off, I walked past Evan, his face pale, and left without a second glance. Behind me, I heard Ella Rae’s faltering steps and her weak call, “Evan, please don’t leave. I’m worried about the baby.”

The sound of her voice faded behind me, and my racing thoughts finally slowed. Dr. Hawthorne had once warned me not to sacrifice my future for any man. But back then, I was young, naive enough to believe love alone would be enough. “Evan isn’t like the others,” I’d declared, head held high. Years later, that statement felt like a dagger through my heart. Now, all I wanted was to see Dr. Hawthorne one last time. She’d been a mother to me when I needed it most, guiding me through college with care. Her hair had grayed over the years. When we sat down, she simply smiled, resting a frail hand on mine. “I always knew you’d come back to finish your doctorate, Sloane,” she said, beaming. “Your talent deserves this journey.” She handed me her architectural sketches, the work of her lifetime. “Take these with you. May you find happiness in your next steps.” As I closed her door, I glimpsed her wiping a tear away, and I knew I wouldn’t let her down again. I thought each day ahead would bring a fresh start. But then Ella Rae blocked my path, a smirk on her face. “Going somewhere, Sloane? Without saying goodbye?” I tried to walk around her, but she seized my suitcase and flung it down the stairs. Sketches scattered and stained on impact. My mind went blank as I scrambled to gather them, only for her heel to grind into my hand, making me wince in pain. Suddenly, several men surrounded me, holding me down, forcing me to kneel at her feet. “Are you insane?” I yelled, fury and humiliation burning inside me. She casually inspected her nails. “Just feeling bored, looking for some fun.” Snatching a few sketches, she sneered, “You treat these like treasures. Maybe I’ll burn them.” A wave of anger surged through me, and I snarled, “Don’t you dare!” With a cruel smile, she signaled for a man to bring her a lighter. The flame flickered menacingly close to my face. “Beg me, and maybe I’ll reconsider.” Clenching my fists, nails digging into my palms, I gritted out, “Please, they mean everything to me.”

A flash of excitement lit up in Ella Rae’s eyes as she struck a match and set Dr. Hawthorne’s carefully crafted sketches ablaze. I watched in horror as her life’s work, her precious architectural drawings, shriveled and blackened in the fire. It felt like someone had ripped out my heart and ground it beneath their heel. Ella Rae squatted beside me, gripping my chin so hard it hurt. “What gives you the right to compete with me, you worthless stray?” Then—slap! Her hand connected sharply with my face, leaving a stinging echo. “That one’s for good measure.” “Strip her down,” she ordered the men around her with a cruel smile. “Let’s see how she flaunts herself at Evan after this.” Fear shot through me as one of the men’s faces twisted into a smug leer. I struggled, but my strength was no match against their brute force. The sound of tearing fabric made me shudder in shame, bringing an overwhelming wave of despair as tears blurred my vision. The commotion attracted a small crowd, and Ella Rae clutched her stomach, adopting a tearful voice. “I’m pregnant, and she’s trying to steal my husband.” Judging, disgusted eyes turned on me, scorching me with their scorn. “Shameless homewrecker, someone ought to teach her a lesson.” “Nothing I hate more than a mistress. They should be dragged through the streets!” “Film it, post it online. Let the world see her for what she is.” I curled up on the ground, trembling, whispering, “I’m not the other woman.” But my denial was drowned out by their laughter, sharp and relentless, stabbing at my dignity. At that moment, I found myself absurdly wishing Evan from our youth would miraculously rescue me. Ella Rae yanked my hair, her gaze smug and mocking as she leaned in to hiss in my ear, “Evan said you were like a stray dog he picked up off the street. Nothing more than a little entertainment. Did you really take it seriously?” Those words echoed like a thunderclap. The pressure holding me down abruptly eased, and with a surge of fury, I shoved Ella Rae away. Then I heard Evan’s familiar voice, full of anger, behind me. “Sloane, what do you think you’re doing?” He rushed over, pulling Ella Rae protectively into his arms, looking at me with bitter disappointment. “Is this what it takes to satisfy you? Hurting an innocent woman and her unborn child?” Several police officers arrived, asking what had caused the disturbance. Angry onlookers eagerly explained, “She’s not only a homewrecker but also deliberately shoved a pregnant woman!” The officer turned to Evan. “What’s the relationship between the three of you?” Ella Rae clung to him, wincing in pain, her voice filled with despair, “Evan, I’m so scared. What if something happens to our baby?” Evan cradled her, casting me a look of utter contempt as he coldly said to the officer, “I don’t know her.”

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After We Were Gone, the Twins Lost Their Minds Brief The Link assigned me and my sister to win over a pair of twins. She’s supposed to get the flirtatious younger brother; I’m here for the obsessive older one. It was like playing with a couple of loyal puppies, all according to plan. Until the Main Girl came back. Then the flirt grabbed my sister by her hair and dragged her to his room. And the obsessive one locked me down on his bed… Sister: “Are we leaving?” Me: “We’re leaving!” Content When Lydia said she wanted to leave this world, I thought she was joking. Back in Ridgeville, we wanted nothing more than to get as far away from that shattered family as possible. Here, we had no parents, but it meant fewer mind games, less verbal abuse, and no one around to constantly drag us down. And especially after winning over the brothers, life here had been smooth sailing. Leaving here and going back? That was the last thing I wanted to do. But Lydia was set on it. “Whether you stay or not is up to you,” she told me. “I’m calling up The Link tonight to get out of here.” “And don’t say I didn’t warn you—Cora’s back.” Cora. The Main Girl of this world. I understood why Lydia wanted to leave. She was right; Damien and Cora were bound to get tangled up again. A flicker of unease rose in my chest. That night, as I was unwinding, Asher stumbled in, reeking of booze. As he got closer, I caught the scent of something familiar on him—a strong trace of Silver Birch Cologne. Cora’s favorite. Half-drunk, he reached up to touch my face, his dark eyes glinting with that familiar, possessive gleam. “What did you do today? Did you think about me?” Since winning Asher over, he’d gotten in the habit of asking me that, like some little reassurance. If I dared say no, his eyes would immediately darken, and he’d ask if I’d found someone else to chase after. Then he’d be fierce with me, muttering that I was nothing but a liar. “You promised you loved me, that you’d never leave. But the second I look away, there you are, running off to someone else. Nixie, you’re so bad.” But if I sweet-talked him just a little, he’d calm down, gentle as ever. Asher’s shifts in mood made me feel like I could handle him, as if taming him were as easy as coaxing a kitten. But I forgot who I was dealing with—Asher Pierce, ruthless, cunning, a real predator. No one could control him easily. Well, except for his ‘Golden Girl.’ “Hmm? Thinking about someone else, Nixie?” “No.” I covered his hand, forcing myself to bear the strong scent of that cologne, my cheek brushing his palm softly. “I was thinking of you, Asher.” The words dripped with emotion, and Asher believed it, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he narrowed his eyes. “You’re so good, Nixie,” he murmured in that hypnotic tone. “I should’ve made my move on you a long time ago. Wasted so much time.” I lowered my gaze, suppressing the emotions rising within. Winning Asher’s heart hadn’t been easy. At first, he looked at me with complete disinterest—his eyes saw only Cora. It wasn’t until six months ago, after Cora got together with her main love interest, that I found Asher drunk on the street and brought him home. That was when he finally started noticing me. When he found out I was here just to win him over, he went wild, begging me to stay. After I succeeded, Asher was good to me. And Damien liked my sister too. So we stayed. But now my sister was leaving. And me? I’d be next. “You’ve got puffy eyes—been crying?” My voice was a little hoarse; Asher had been rough last night, and I still hadn’t quite recovered. Lydia gave a bitter smile. “Last night, he came back drunk, reeking of perfume, with lipstick on his collar. I asked him a couple of questions, and he got all in my face, accusing me of being paranoid. The way he said it hurt. Those words were…ugly. Nora, I regret staying.” “Doesn’t matter if it’s this world or the old one—men are the same. Once they’ve got you, they stop caring.” Lydia sighed. “I’ve already arranged for The Link to get me out of here. In two weeks, I’ll be gone. What about you? Are you staying here with Asher? Or is he not much better than Damien?” I didn’t know how much of Asher’s feelings were real. Unlike Damien, he wasn’t open about his emotions. Lydia vented her anger about Damien for a while, then dragged me to Oakwood Mall with her, laughing again. “The Pierces can afford it. I’m leaving soon; why not enjoy spending his money?” “When we go back, I won’t get to live like this anymore.” “Nora, just humor me these last few days.” Lydia practically wanted to buy the whole place, grabbing anything that caught her eye. She found a bracelet and was about to try it on when someone else swooped in. “I’ll take that. Wrap it up.”

I turned toward the voice, and my eyes widened. Asher was standing there, lips pressed tightly together, his gaze dark and fixed on me. Beside him was Cora. The sales assistant hesitated, and before Lydia could say a word, I spoke up first: “Lydia was eyeing that bracelet first. Even if you want it, Miss Blake, you should wait until she decides not to buy it.” A sharp glare landed on me. Asher’s. He walked up, his towering presence full of pressure, handed his card to the sales assistant, and said with chilling calm, “Charge it. Wrap the bracelet up.” I watched, helpless, as Asher handed the bracelet to Cora. Not a single word to me the entire time. Even after he left, I was frozen in place. “Still thinking of staying here?” “Asher doesn’t seem that different from Damien,” Lydia said, a bit of amusement in her voice. I forced a smile. Guess that’s why they’re twins. That night, Asher didn’t come back. Just as I was drifting off, my phone buzzed. It was a video message from Lydia. In the video, Cora sat between the twins, Damien holding a fruit platter, Asher a glass of juice. She looked like a princess flanked by her two knights. I knew what Lydia was implying: she wanted me to leave with her. I’d been hesitating, but that scene at the mall solidified my decision. I tried summoning The Link, but it didn’t respond. The door creaked open. Asher was back. Still in the same black suit from earlier, his sharp gaze was fixed on me. “Are you mad?” He sat on the bed beside me, the cologne stronger than it had been last night. I shook my head, calmly replying, “No.” Asher scoffed, “Not mad at all? Should I call you overly tolerant, Nixie?” His expression didn’t change, but I could feel his irritation. Normally, by now, I’d have soothed him with a few soft words. But this time, I just looked at him silently. Asher’s face darkened; he yanked his tie off, sighing in frustration. “Cora’s my sister. I promised I’d always look after her. I can’t break that promise.” I nodded in understanding. Without crying or throwing a fit, I sat there silently as his frown deepened. “Nora, are you throwing a tantrum?” I swear I wasn’t. Suddenly, he grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. The moment our gazes locked, my breath hitched. His look was cold, deadly. He was genuinely angry. His grip was fierce, painful. I tried pulling away, but his hold only tightened. “Nora, you can throw a fit, but don’t go too far. It’s unattractive.” I hadn’t gone too far. I gripped his wrist, annoyed, “Asher, let go. I’m not mad.” He released me after a moment, caressing my face with that obsessive intensity. “Nixie, you’re not going back. You only have me to rely on, so don’t push your luck, understand?” “If you’re upset, say it. Don’t hold it in—it’s bad for you.” “As for Cora, you don’t need to worry about her. You’re the only one I’ll ever have at my side.” The tenderness in his tone sent a shiver through me, a chill spreading up my spine. When Asher was angry, his silence was the most frightening. He kissed my forehead, nose, then my lips, his touch gentle, while his hands grew more demanding. I felt like I was on a roller coaster, high one moment, plummeting the next. Barely able to keep up, I clung to his wrist, my vision blurring. “Asher, I’m sorry. Not so hard.”

As Asher buried his face in my neck, he chuckled, his touch finally softening. But just a second later, his movements became rough again. I sighed; this time, he wouldn’t be so easy to appease. When it was finally over, Asher fell asleep quickly, calm as ever. But I lay awake, mind racing, repeatedly calling on The Link. Finally, that cold, mechanical voice answered. “Host, apologies for the delay.” “I want to leave this world.” I was blunt, and even The Link seemed surprised. “Host, this is a one-time opportunity, and it cannot be reversed. Are you sure you want to exit?” “Absolutely.” The second Asher said I “only had him to rely on,” I knew I couldn’t wait to get out. I’d finally seen it clearly—in his mind, I was nothing but an attachment, something he owned. The Link scheduled my exit for two weeks out. Lydia and I would be leaving one after the other. When she found out, she smiled with relief. “I’m glad you’ve come around, Nora. Once we’re back, let’s just be sisters, okay? No more fighting.” I nodded and agreed. As kids, Lydia and I fought constantly. For things as small as a test score, and as big as Dad’s attention. If we didn’t fight, we’d get hit. It wasn’t really us fighting, but our mothers who pushed us into it, each one hoping the other would disappear. But Lydia’s smile didn’t last long; her gaze shifted, turning dark as she looked over my shoulder. I turned to see Damien standing there. Same face as Asher’s, but somehow, Damien’s gaze always made my skin crawl. “Hey, Sis. Asher’s looking for you—don’t keep him waiting.” “And I need to talk with Lydia. We’ve got some things to settle.” The twins had bought neighboring apartments so that Lydia and I could see each other anytime. I glanced at Lydia, worried, but she just smiled and shook her head. “Go on, Nora. It’s late, and I need to talk with him.” I had barely shut the door when I heard glass shattering inside. I turned to rush back in, but an arm wrapped around my waist, a hand covering my mouth. “Their business is theirs. Let’s go home.” Asher brought me back. The moment we stepped inside, he pressed me against the wall, his kiss desperate and unrelenting. The strong scent of that cologne still lingered, and I pushed him away, feeling disgusted. “Go shower. You smell…filthy.” Asher froze, looking at me, stunned. “Nora, are you calling me…dirty?” I wiped my mouth, my expression hard, letting my revulsion show. “Asher, you’re coming in here smelling like someone else’s perfume, and you don’t think that’s dirty?” A tense silence filled the room. Asher’s face darkened, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Then suddenly, he let out a low chuckle. “Nixie, are you jealous?” Was I? Maybe a little—otherwise, why would it bother me so much? Asher lifted my chin, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I like it, Nixie, that you’re jealous for me.” “But I told you before—you need to know your limits. You don’t get to be jealous over Cora.” His tone was tinged with warning. It sent a shiver through me. I’d seen Asher break a man’s arm without blinking, just because he’d brushed up against Cora’s arm. If I really tried to harm her, who knows what Asher would do to me. We were locked in that tense silence when a sudden banging shook the door behind us. “Nora, open the door! Help me!” I moved to open it, but Asher grabbed my hand. He leaned in, voice low and menacing. “I said, don’t get involved in their business.” “She’s my sister!” For the first time, I shouted at Asher with real anger. He blinked, momentarily surprised, and I used the chance to open the door. Lydia gasped as I pulled it open; I saw Damien gripping her hair, dragging her back to his place. Seeing me, he shot me a cold smile.

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The day Sean Parker and I agreed to move to the same city, I failed to show up on time. He probably couldn’t understand why I suddenly went incommunicado after just going back home to pack my luggage. A few days later, I called Sean. As soon as he picked up, I heard his furious questioning: “Thea Brown, are you trying to break up with me out of the blue?” I looked around at the cold, steel bars surrounding me and forced myself to say something I didn’t mean. “Yeah, I’m about to go abroad and live the good life.” “Let’s not keep in touch anymore.” Five years later, I was making a living by setting up a small booth in a night market tourist area. I did manicures for tourists while selling some handmade trinkets on the side. That night, it started drizzling. The lady at the neighboring stall called out to me as she was packing up: “Thea, why don’t you head home? It’s raining!” I shook my head bitterly. The truth was, I hadn’t made a single sale all day and didn’t want to leave empty-handed. The lady tried to persuade me: “Honey, that’s not how you make money. You’ve barely eaten anything all day. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Just as she finished speaking, two people suddenly stopped in front of my booth – a picture-perfect couple. “Hey, how much for a manicure?” The girl’s voice was sweet as she casually browsed the designs. I habitually lowered my head, wiped the customer’s chair clean, and eagerly introduced my services: “Basic designs are 50 , m o r e c o m p l e x o n e s a r e 50,morecomplexonesare100. If you’d like, I can also throw in a free plush toy – I make them myself.” The girl didn’t even look at the toys. She randomly pointed at a trendy design. “I’ll take this one. Skip the plush toy – I’m not interested in unlicensed products.” The man beside her opened an umbrella and held it over her head, his tone full of affection. “I can’t believe you still want to get dolled up in this rain.” My hand froze as I was reaching for my tools. Though I hadn’t heard that voice in years, I would recognize it anywhere till the day I died. It was Sean Parker. I snuck a glance and finally got a clear look at him now. He had lost weight but become even more handsome. In that moment, my heart felt like a fallen leaf tossed about by a gale, drifting aimlessly with no place to settle. I mechanically reached out to gently hold the girl’s hand. I lowered my head to steady myself and slowly began painting her nails. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sean pull up a chair and sit down, his hand holding the umbrella never wavering. It suddenly reminded me of our college days when he would always wait for me outside the dorm building whenever it rained. He always tilted the umbrella more towards my side. But that favoritism no longer belonged to me. Now, he stood beside another girl, shielding her from the wind and rain, giving her his undivided attention. “Wait, take off everything you just did,” the girl suddenly pulled her hand back and held it up to her face, blowing on it gently. My thoughts were abruptly pulled back to reality as I asked anxiously, “Miss, do you… not like it?” She frowned and shook her head. “Your hands feel like they have thorns, it’s uncomfortable.” “How can you do manicures for others with hands like that? Don’t you understand customer service?” Only then did I notice how dry and cracked my own hands were. Years of sewing and manual labor had left my fingertips covered in tiny, rough calluses. In that moment, I felt my face burn with embarrassment, my chest tightening. Sean suddenly laughed and ruffled the girl’s hair, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “Please help remove the polish for her. Keep the money.” He finally looked at me. That glance made his hand freeze mid-motion as he was taking out cash. I watched as his expression gradually hardened, the muscles in his face twitching subtly. Those eyes that were once gentle and mesmerizing slowly filled with hatred. The girl took out some sanitizing wipes from her purse and started wiping her fingers one by one. She turned to ask, “What’s wrong? Do you know her?” He suddenly smiled. He pulled out a few more bills from his wallet and tossed them all at me unceremoniously. “No, I don’t. She just looks pitiful.” “Consider it charity for a beggar. Let’s go.” Those two sentences were like sharp hooks, digging into my heart one by one. He had recognized me. At my most wretched state.

Sean Parker didn’t know that my lowest point wasn’t now. The year we graduated, we had agreed to move to the same city to start our careers. I was supposed to go back home briefly to pack my things before we left. But as soon as I walked through the door, I witnessed a nightmarish scene. My stepfather had pinned my mother to the ground, one hand pressing her head down, the other viciously swinging his fist. Seeing me enter, he not only didn’t stop, but hit even harder. “You worthless bitch! You’re just as cheap as that daughter of yours. You eat my food, drink my booze, but when it’s time to serve me you’re not willing? I’ll beat you to death!” For a moment, my mother’s wails and my stepfather’s curses blended together, assaulting every nerve in my body. I couldn’t take it anymore and rushed over to push him off. But I was no match for him. Within seconds he got back up and slapped me hard across the face. My mother struggled to her feet and clung to his leg. “Please, stop hitting her. The child will make money in the future.” The mention of money only made the beast angrier. He shook off my mother and lunged at me, grabbing me by the throat. In that moment, I felt like I was going to die. On the brink of despair, my hand found a fruit knife on the table. Without thinking, I plunged it into his heart. Just like that, at barely over 20 years old, I became a murderer. The day I was waiting for my sentencing, I made a call to Sean Parker. As soon as he picked up, he demanded to know why I had been so cold-hearted. I wiped away the tears that had long since covered my face and spoke scornfully to him for the first time. “Sean Parker, I’ll tell you the truth. In a couple days, I’m going abroad to live the good life.” “Only an idiot would stay with a poor nobody like you.” Those heartless words were enough to crush Sean Parker, who was penniless at the time. His voice trembled as he warned me not to regret it. After that, we never contacted each other again. Later, I was sentenced to five years for manslaughter. My mother hanged herself a week after my sentencing. From that day on, I not only lost my mother, but also my freedom. I regretted it, but it was too late. Sean Parker was wonderful, so wonderful that no one else in the world could replace him. As for me, the castle I had spent over 20 years building in my heart had already crumbled. I was no longer worthy of him. I would never be worthy again. For a while after getting out of prison, no company was willing to hire me. I finally managed to find a job as a food delivery driver. But when my criminal record was discovered, even the boss who had been kind to me suddenly turned cold: “You little brat, do you know how much trouble it would cause the company if this got out? Get lost, and stay far away!” Who could have imagined that me, a graduate from a top university, would now be unqualified even to be a delivery driver? Later, I could only rely on the skills I had learned in prison to do some small business, working from dawn to dusk just to barely make ends meet. The money Sean Parker threw at me today was almost equivalent to a month’s income for me. But I didn’t want to accept it. That money hitting my body hurt more than a slap to the face. Before bed, I got a call from my college roommate Claire White. She was the only friend I had contacted after getting out of prison. “Thea, I invited Sean Parker to my wedding next month too. My dad is working with him now, so I really had no choice.” “But you have to come, we promised each other back in college.” I tidied up the money I hadn’t had a chance to refuse earlier and calmly replied: “It’s fine, I have something to return to him anyway.” Once I returned it, I could let go too.

Claire’s wedding was held at her father’s hotel. This was my first time back in this city after more than five years. Even though I had been back in society for half a year now, I still felt uneasy in crowded places. “Thea, don’t be so tense.” Claire patted my shoulder to help me relax. I gave a dry smile and gestured for her to go ahead and stay busy. Soon people started taking their seats. I realized this whole table was filled with my college classmates, but no one recognized me. Sean Parker arrived with that pretty girl from the other day, causing a stir before they even sat down. “Well well, looks like Mr. Parker is about to tie the knot soon, eh?” He didn’t try to hide it, openly holding hands with the girl. Then he glanced in my direction and smiled, nodding: “That’s right, when Sophie and I get married, you all have to come drink to our happiness.” So her name was Sophie. I lowered my head, wanting to bury myself in the dust. All I could do was try my best to minimize my presence. But Sophie noticed me. “Hey~ Aren’t you the girl who did my nails the other day?” Her words drew countless gazes. Finally someone recognized me. “Are you… Thea Brown? Is that really you?” I nodded slightly, still not raising my face. That person slapped their thigh. “It really is you! But how did you end up like this? I remember you used to be so beautiful. Now you look malnourished!” I forced a smile, not knowing how to respond. Some of those close to Sean Parker started taking potshots: “Well well, Miss Lin, looks like karma caught up with you, huh? We hadn’t heard a peep from you in years – we thought you died in the pandemic or something.” The words were unpleasant, but I could tolerate them. After all, compared to the abuse I endured in prison, what was this? Besides, this was Claire’s wedding. I couldn’t let her face any embarrassment. During the meal, I just focused on eating the food in front of me. Sean Parker sneered, serving Sophie some dishes while taking a dig at me: “Is Miss Lin not used to Chinese food after being abroad for so long?” I numbly finished my last bite and gently set down my chopsticks. “Please, enjoy your meal everyone. I have to leave early.” As I said this, my gaze floated in the air. There was a whole table of people, yet I couldn’t find a single pair of eyes to meet. I left in a hurry, not getting a chance to say goodbye to Claire or find an opportunity to return Sean Parker’s money. But as soon as I walked out of the hotel, someone stopped me. Sean Parker had somehow taken a shortcut and arrived at the entrance before me. Without a word, he dragged me to a secluded corner. His face was dark, like storm clouds before heavy rain. “Thea Brown, what’s your game? Didn’t you say you were going abroad to live the good life? Why are you back now?” I was at a loss for words, staring at him helplessly. “They’re right, this is karma for abandoning me.” “Are you jealous? I’m rich and successful now, with a beautiful and loving girlfriend.” “Most importantly, she loves me. She won’t casually abandon me! You’re the one who’s been abandoned!” He hurled years of pent-up anger at me like an avalanche, crushing the air out of my lungs. At the critical moment, Claire came running out, panting as she stood in front of me. “Sean Parker, what, what are you doing? Do you know that Thea…” “Claire!” I hurriedly cut her off. I shoved the money I had prepared into Sean Parker’s hands and pulled Claire away, turning to leave. I didn’t want him to know. It was better if it stayed buried in my gut forever.

That night, Claire made time to give me a call. “Thea, don’t stay cooped up in that little tourist area anymore. Come work at my dad’s hotel.” I felt both dazed and uneasy. “Is that… appropriate? Won’t I cause trouble for you?” Claire brushed it off: “It’s fine, just be a temporary room service staff. You won’t have to be out in public much, and it’ll pay better than selling plush toys.” This time, I suddenly wanted to give it a try. On my third day of work, someone was holding a birthday party in the main hall. It originally had nothing to do with me, but the manager suddenly called me down to help serve drinks. When I got to the hall, I realized it was Sean Parker’s birthday. I had completely forgotten. Not only were many college classmates there, but also friends he had made in the city over the past few years. I looked around, hoping to find Claire in the crowd. I didn’t want to show my face at this party. “What are you looking at? I didn’t call you down here to gawk!” The supervisor impatiently placed a tray of drinks in my hands, filling several glasses in seconds. She pointed ahead: “Go on, hurry up! The main table is waiting for drinks!” I had no chance to refuse before she gave me a push, sending me wandering through the crowd like a zombie with the tray of drinks. Just as I reached the main table, Sophie suddenly turned and bumped my arm. I lost my grip for a moment, and the tray toppled to the ground. With a loud crash, glasses shattered and alcohol splashed everywhere, splattering Sophie’s high heels and the hem of her dress. “Ah! What’s wrong with you? Are you blind?” “I’m sorry.” I apologized woodenly, frantically trying to clean up the glass shards on the floor. Sophie was furious. “What good is apologizing? Do you know how much these shoes cost? Get down and clean them properly!” I instinctively glanced at Sean Parker. He frowned slightly but remained silent. I understood. He had no intention of intervening. “Hurry up! What are you thinking about? Is this how your hotel staff handle mistakes?” Forget it. I took out the handkerchief I always carried and crouched down to wipe her shoes. In that moment, I was the focus of everyone’s stares. Before I finished, I heard Sophie’s cold laughter from above. “Ladies and gentlemen, many of you know this person, right? Do you all know where she’s been these past few years?” My mind went blank. She was… doing this on purpose? She used a playful tone to ask me: “It’s Thea Brown, right? Why don’t I help you tell everyone where you disappeared to?” I suddenly understood. Sophie had investigated all my information. Though I didn’t know why, she was determined to expose me. The crowd immediately began to stir, like a swarm of annoying flies. I looked up, meeting Sophie’s smug gaze. She looked down at me, smiling maliciously. In that moment, I felt like a cornered animal. And they were all executioners waiting for me to surrender. If I was going to die either way, I’d rather jump off the cliff myself than be toyed with by them. I stood up and looked at her, at Sean Parker, at the countless eyes fixed on me. No more hiding. “No need for your help. I’ll tell everyone myself.” “A few years ago, I accidentally killed someone. I disappeared because I was serving time in prison.” This moment of honesty wasn’t for anyone else, but for myself. I just wanted to live a decent life. “What did you say?” Sean Parker shot to his feet, staring at me in disbelief, his eyes blazing.

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My husband and I returned to the United States to participate in groundbreaking cancer research, only to be struck down—literally—by Vanessa Sterling, a rising Hollywood star. With my legs shattered, I crawled, pleading for her to help my husband, who was rapidly losing consciousness. She responded by throwing a check at my face. “Who’s ever heard of you scientists? You’re nobodies compared to me! Here, a hundred grand—more than enough to buy your pathetic lives!” As my husband’s body grew cold, she left, hurling a bribe to keep me silent. Then, her powerful backer, Brandon Chase, threatened me, “Go ahead, call the cops. We’ll ruin you. Who do you think you are to fight a star like her?” What they didn’t know was that my husband was the lead scientist on a federally funded cancer research project—a man backed by the full force of the National Institute of Advanced Science. Content The cold check slid from his face, but Nate still clutched the hard drive containing his research—a decade’s worth of work to develop affordable cancer medication. Just an hour earlier, he’d smiled at me, his excitement lighting up the room. “Claire,” he had said, “with these results, we can give the country a drug that’s cheaper and more effective.” “I want every family to afford medicine. Every life is precious.” And now, his life was being trampled on, reduced to a bargaining chip for a starlet with too much money and too little humanity. Through my tears, I begged her, “I don’t want your money—just help me get my husband to a hospital!” “If our research gets delayed, it could cost thousands, maybe millions, of lives!” Vanessa Sterling paused mid-step, her lips curling into a mocking sneer. “Ugh, shut up. A hundred grand isn’t enough to make you stop whining? You’re both worthless, and frankly, I’m being generous!” Her cruel words stabbed at me. Nate and I had sacrificed so much, self-funding our research for the good of the people, only to be humiliated by someone who flaunted her wealth like a weapon. I pulled out my ID and threw it at her feet. “Call the National Institute of Advanced Science. They’ll confirm who we are.” “Delay this project, and those two worthless lives you mock might cost you more than you can afford to pay!” Vanessa crushed my ID under her heel with a dismissive snort. “What a waste of my time! I’m trending on Twitter and have national interviews lined up. Meanwhile, I’ve never even heard of you.” “What kind of ‘scientists’ are so unknown? Guess you’re not that important. Dead or alive, who’d even care?” She strutted off, lazily making a call, leaving me gripping my shattered phone, frantically pressing its cracked screen through tears that blurred my vision. I was at my wit’s end. I pounded my broken legs in despair, the pain unable to drown out the anguish in my chest. How could I dream of saving lives when I couldn’t even save the person I loved most? Vanessa smirked, looking down at me. “Fine, keep playing the victim. I’m not giving you more money.” “Oh, by the way,” she added, “this area has no cameras. So here’s the story: you two idiots ran into my car on your own. Say that, and we’re good.” She leaned in, a wicked grin on her face. “Take the check, and I’ll even send my assistant to drop you off at the hospital. Consider it my good deed of the day.” Vanessa wanted to rewrite the narrative. She wasn’t the one who caused this—no, she was the hero offering a lifeline. My hands trembled as I picked up the blood-stained check. Swallowing my pride, I agreed. Nate’s life was all that mattered. Seeing me capitulate, Vanessa laughed in triumph. “Ha! Pretending you’re not after money? What a joke.” I bit my lip so hard that blood dripped down my chin. Nate, coughing and wheezing, turned to me with great effort. “Claire… I have to tell you something… while I can…” He pressed the hard drive into my hands, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. “Claire, I’ve told you before. My greatest dream is to create a cure that even the poorest can afford.” “But I don’t think I can finish it…” I held him tightly, trying to warm his freezing body, my tears mingling with the blood on his face. He shook his head, determined even in his final moments. “Don’t grieve for me.” “No matter what happens, you must continue our research. This data is more important than me…” Choking on sobs, I nodded. Vanessa’s voice cut through the air like a dagger. “Enough with the drama. You’re acting like you’re curing cancer or something. I’ve got people jumping off buildings if I don’t post on Instagram!” I glared at her, my fury burning through the haze of grief. Vanessa smirked. “Oh, what? You mad? It’s just some junk science, right?” She snatched the hard drive from my hands. “Let me take a look. What’s got you so worked up?”

Vanessa Sterling tossed the hard drive lightly into the air, catching it with each throw. One slip, and it would shatter into pieces. I watched in utter panic, my chest tightening with every flip. Crawling forward on my broken legs, I begged her to return it. “That’s his legacy!” I cried. “It’s the hope for countless patients who could be saved!” Vanessa’s mocking game had gone too far. The sight of her toying with the hard drive pushed Nate over the edge. He coughed violently, blood spurting from his lips as he gasped out desperate pleas for her to stop. Then, he collapsed, unconscious. Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Geez, can’t you take a joke?” she muttered before pocketing her amusement. With a flippant wave, she climbed into her car and sped away. Her assistant eventually helped transport Nate and me to Crestwood Medical Center, where I underwent surgery. Hours later, I sat in a wheelchair outside the brightly lit ICU, staring at the closed doors of the operating room. All I could think about was the stolen research—ten years of relentless work—gone. Summoning my strength, I called the police. The Brookhaven Police Department acted swiftly, launching an investigation and quickly identifying witnesses to the hit-and-run. Vanessa was brought in for questioning. The moment we faced each other at the station, she struck me across the face without warning. “You just don’t give up, do you? Wasn’t a hundred grand enough? Now you’re back for more?” I didn’t flinch. Instead, I slammed the bloodstained check against her face. “I told you—I don’t want your money. I want you behind bars. If my husband doesn’t make it, I’ll see to it you pay with your life!” Her face twisted in fury, and she raised her hand again. But before she could land another blow, the officers stepped in to stop her. Turning on the theatrics, Vanessa threw herself into Brandon Chase’s arms, sobbing dramatically. “Mr. Chase, I’m so sorry! I was just trying to enjoy my evening with you, but this woman had to bring the police and ruin everything!” Everyone knew that stars like Vanessa didn’t rise without a powerful backer. Brandon Chase was clearly her anchor in the storm. He gave me a disinterested glance, his tone icy. “Ms. Kensington, let’s not drag this out. Name your price, and let’s put this to rest.” I chuckled bitterly through the pain of my split lip. “You think this is about money?” “My husband dedicated his life to research for this country. He’s fighting for his life, and you want to buy your way out of justice? Forget it.” Brandon’s gaze turned steely, his voice lowering in warning. “You’re playing a dangerous game. Money can buy anything.” I locked eyes with him, unwavering. “Fine. Get the most expensive lawyer you can find. I’ll see you in court.” Ignoring him, I focused on the officers bringing in the witnesses. I expected justice, but when the doors to the interrogation room opened, my blood ran cold. The witness, a young man, pointed at me and confidently declared, “It was her. I saw her throw herself in front of Vanessa’s car. She was faking it—trying to extort her!” My voice shook. “You’re lying!” It was all so clear now. Brandon Chase’s smug confidence, the bribed witness—it all clicked into place. “You sold your soul for a check,” I said, my voice trembling with rage. “How much did they pay you? Enough to silence your conscience and frame an innocent person?” The boy shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but the admiration in his eyes as he turned to Vanessa betrayed him. “Vanessa Sterling is a star,” he gushed. “She makes millions every day. She’s an icon for people like me.” Then he sneered at me. “And you? What are you, some nobody scientist? Why would I ruin my life for someone like you?” My eyes burned with unshed tears. “You’re asking who I am?” I whispered. I clenched my fists. Nate and I had spent our lives in quiet service to others, seeking no fame or fortune—only the hope of making a difference. But did that mean we deserved this? I cried out, my voice hoarse, “My husband is still fighting for his life in the ICU! We work for the National Institute of Advanced Science! Why would we throw everything away for a scheme like this?” Brandon’s condescending laugh cut through the air. “Every criminal says they’re innocent,” he said with a shrug, turning to the officers. “Officer, you have your witness. Isn’t it time to put this scam artist in her place?” He stepped forward, his face inches from mine, and smirked. “After all, we’re all equal under the law. Isn’t that right?” My resolve snapped. I slapped him hard across the face, the sound ringing through the room like a gunshot. “You’ll regret that,” he growled, raising his fist. “Stop!” The officers rushed forward, pushing us apart before he could strike. As they escorted me to another room, Brandon’s eyes followed me, dark with unspoken threats.

After yet another round of questioning, my lawyer arranged for my release. Exhausted, I returned to Crestwood Medical Center, where Nate’s condition remained critical. I slumped in my wheelchair, staring at the sterile hospital walls, my body numb with despair. Then my phone rang. Vanessa’s voice spilled out, dripping with mockery. “Claire, how’s it feel to call the cops and end up the one getting interrogated?” “You’re the criminal!” I spat back. “So what if I am?” she said, her confidence unshaken. “Brandon’s got my back. I’m a star. What are you? Nothing.” Her voice turned icy. “Brandon wanted me to tell you something: money can’t shut you up, but it can destroy you a hundred times over. Check Twitter if you don’t believe me.” Dread pooled in my stomach as I opened my phone. The top trending topic screamed at me: “Scammer Couple Tries to Con Actress Vanessa Sterling, Karma Hits Hard!” The media had already spun the story, fueled by Brandon’s money and influence. Comment after comment tore us apart. “They should’ve died in the accident. How dare they frame Vanessa?” “Calling themselves scientists? Sure, if scientists were cheap and useless. Vanessa’s worth more than their entire lives combined!” Even fake posts from supposed former classmates began to circulate. “They plagiarized their theses in college. The whole campus knew they were frauds.” Nate and I, dedicated scientists, were painted as failures and liars, while Vanessa continued to bask in the spotlight. I hung up on her taunts. It wasn’t over. I wouldn’t stop until every single one of them faced justice. Dialing, I heard a familiar voice pick up. “Claire! I was just about to call you!” exclaimed Dr. Leonard Grant, the director of NIAS. “I’ve got great news! Nate’s been officially appointed lead scientist for the project. The higher-ups are thrilled!” His enthusiasm cracked something inside me. “Nate might not wake up,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “And the data… it’s gone.” The line went silent before his voice returned, steel laced with fury. “Who did this to you? Tell me everything.” As I explained, tears choked me. “How do I fix this? Patients are waiting. The drug needs to be developed… and I’ve failed at every turn.” But Dr. Grant’s voice was resolute. “You haven’t failed, Claire. Hold on. Help is coming. The country will always stand behind you.” Minutes later, Vanessa strutted into the hospital. “You’re not welcome here!” I seethed. “Oh, I have an appointment,” she said with a sly smile. “Dr. Harris is seeing me this afternoon.” My heart sank. Dr. Harris was Nate’s surgeon. If she took him away… “You’re risking his life!” I screamed. Vanessa only laughed. “Guess you better start making funeral plans.” Before I could react, she shoved me from my wheelchair, sending pain lancing through my broken legs. Then, with a cruel smile, she pulled the hard drive from her bag and slammed it to the ground. “This is what you care about, isn’t it? Well, consider it gone!” Her heel came down hard, cracking the casing. A booming voice stopped her. “Enough!” Dr. Grant stormed in, his expression thunderous. “I don’t care who your backer is,” he roared. “No one is above this country’s justice!”

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The day we won the National E-Sports Championship, my girlfriend of eight years said she wanted to personally present me with flowers on stage. Standing on the podium, I eagerly pulled out the ring I had hidden, ready to give her a grand proposal. But then, with a bright smile, she handed the bouquet to her “best friend,” Griffin Ashby, right in front of everyone. Under the spotlight, they became the center of everyone’s attention. On the scene and all over Twitter, people showered them with blessings. Griffin’s fans even tagged me in posts: “We told you to stop clinging to our couple. Feeling humiliated now?” I calmly posted a reply: “Respect. Best wishes to you both.” Content Under the dazzling spotlights, I stood on the podium alongside my teammates. Vanessa Larkson, my girlfriend, walked slowly toward me with a bouquet of roses in her hands. She had once said that when I finally won the national championship, she would reveal our relationship during the award ceremony. Tonight, she seemed to have come just for me, holding roses that symbolized love. It was the first time she had ever given me flowers, and her expression was so affectionate. Blushing, I suppressed my excitement, watching her approach with my full attention. In my mind, I planned it all out. The moment she handed me the flowers, I would drop to one knee, take out the ring, and propose to her live in front of the nation. Even though we had argued yesterday over some trivial matters. But hey, what couple doesn’t bicker sometimes? My hand nervously rubbed the ring box in my pocket. “Congratulations on your championship!” Vanessa extended the flowers toward me. Just as I was about to take them with a delighted smile, the bouquet bypassed my hands and landed firmly in the arms of my teammate, Griffin Ashby. Griffin, Vanessa’s “best friend,” had known her longer than I had. The smile on my face froze instantly. Looking at my girlfriend, who gazed at Griffin with affection, I stood dumbfounded before laughing bitterly at myself. It was Griffin. Again. I should’ve seen it coming. To Vanessa, her “best friend” was always more important than her boyfriend. Even our argument yesterday was about Griffin. But I never thought she’d openly hand over a bouquet of roses—symbols of love—to him in front of everyone. Griffin, with his good looks, had a much larger fanbase in the gaming circuit than the rest of us. Did Vanessa not realize what her actions meant, giving him flowers in front of all these people? I quietly slipped the ring back into my pocket as the crowd’s screams reached a fever pitch. The roar was so loud it felt like it could lift the roof off the arena. Amid the camera flashes, everything around me seemed to dim. Before the award ceremony even ended, their sweet moment was already trending on Twitter. Their chemistry as a “shipped pair” sparked countless fans to root for them. Griffin’s fans flooded the video comments, tagging Vanessa and calling her “sister-in-law.” The scene was lively and full of joy. But none of that had anything to do with me. I forced a bitter smile, stepped off the stage, and returned to the locker room alone. Looking at the flood of blessings on Twitter, I suddenly felt exhausted. Maybe this was the perfect moment to end things. So I sent Vanessa a text: “Let’s break up. I won’t get in your way anymore.” The text had barely been sent when Vanessa called. I wasn’t planning to answer. I hung up and grabbed a ride back to my apartment to pack my things. The apartment was one we had shared. Since we’d broken up, there was no way I could keep living under the same roof as her. She could have the place. While I packed, Vanessa bombarded me with messages: “What do you mean, break up?” “Are you throwing a tantrum again? Man up!” “Alright, everyone’s saying we should celebrate. Come on, Griffin and the others are waiting for you!” Every word revolved around Griffin. She handed roses to another man and turned around to call me petty. I looked at my phone and laughed coldly. Then I turned it off, zipped up my suitcase, and left. With no time to find another place, I returned to the dorms at Apex Gaming Base, where the club had prepared rooms for the players. The base was quiet since everyone else was out celebrating. I instinctively powered on my computer and logged into the game for practice. Only in the game could I find some peace.

It was late at night when Vanessa called again. I was still practicing. I glanced at the phone on the desk, hit the mute button, and ignored it. Then came a barrage of texts: “Why aren’t you home yet?” “Where have you been?” “The flowers I picked for you are wilting. Where are you? Didn’t you say you liked flowers from me?” Do I need flowers given out of guilt? I turned off the screen, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. She was always like this—giving a slap followed by a sweet treat. I used to love her so much that I didn’t see a problem with it. I even convinced myself it meant she cared about me. But now, I’ve woken up. I see through her. It was time to leave. No one is irreplaceable. Neither her nor me. … That night, I stayed up training and then slept through the next afternoon. When I finally made it to the computer room, Vanessa was sitting in my chair, lost in thought. I wasn’t surprised she’d found me. Where else could I go besides the dorm? Hearing my footsteps, she turned and saw me. “Where were you last night? I called and messaged you! I thought something happened to you!” Clearing my throat, I replied flatly, “I slept early.” She looked stunned and frowned in confusion. “What’s with you today? You’re acting all weird.” True. The old me would’ve been thrilled to see her showing up here, eager to unload all my recent frustrations onto her. Now, there was only silence. Naturally, she found it strange. She also seemed to forget I had already broken up with her yesterday—or how she had humiliated me in public. Before I could say anything, she spoke again. “Today’s Griffin’s three-year anniversary with the team. He’s hosting a dinner. Let’s go together.” I wanted to make up an excuse to decline. But as teammates, my absence might create unnecessary trouble. Besides, I needed to tell everyone we had broken up. I nodded indifferently, got dressed, and followed her to the hotel. When we arrived, I realized the event wasn’t just for Griffin’s friends. It was practically a fan meetup. Before I even entered, the commotion from the Bellwood Grand Hall was deafening. I glanced toward Vanessa, but she had disappeared into the crowd. “Looking for Vanessa? I’ll take you to her,” came Scarlett Monroe’s voice, appearing out of nowhere. She led me upstairs to a private suite, where I could see the stage below. Vanessa appeared, pushing a giant cake while holding a string of pink and white balloons. It was Griffin’s surprise gift. The fans screamed wildly, chanting for them to “get married now” and calling Vanessa “sister-in-law.” Scarlett raised her eyebrows at me and gestured toward the stage. “Don’t you think they look perfect together?” I swallowed hard, bitterness rising in my throat. They did. They really did.

Vanessa had never put this much effort into anything for me. Even on my birthday, when I asked for a cake, she’d only complain impatiently, saying, “We’re adults—why bother with pointless formalities?” Yet here she was, going out of her way to prepare such a grand surprise for Griffin in front of everyone. Turns out, people only put in effort for the ones they truly care about. Scarlett Monroe observed my reaction, clearly satisfied by how much it stung. She smirked, a sly, knowing smile that twisted like a thorn in my heart. After the event, Vanessa and Griffin returned to the private suite together. Scarlett immediately hooked her arm around Vanessa’s and teased, “Vanessa, pulling off such a big surprise for Griffin—aren’t you afraid your boyfriend will get jealous?” Vanessa froze, then glanced at me. A flicker of guilt crossed her eyes. “Next time, for your birthday or our anniversary, I’ll plan something just as big for you,” she said hesitantly. I shook my head lightly. “Don’t bother.” If it’s the same thing you’ve already done for someone else, how could it even count as a surprise? I wasn’t about to accept someone else’s leftovers. Vanessa pressed her lips together, as if she wanted to say more. Before she could, Griffin chimed in. “Logan, you’re not seriously upset, are you? Vanessa was just going along with the publicity plan. Don’t be so petty.” “As her boyfriend, you should be more understanding. Don’t make her guess what’s on your mind all the time. That’s exhausting for her.” Classic Griffin, always stepping up to defend Vanessa. I let out a soft laugh. “With you looking out for her, why would she ever need anyone else?” The words carried a sharp edge, freezing the room in an instant. Griffin sighed dramatically, offering a resigned smile. “Alright, fine. If it makes you feel better, I’ll apologize. Don’t be mad at Vanessa.” The air hung heavy with awkwardness until someone broke in to lighten the mood. “Come on, we’re all teammates—no need for these formalities. Let’s drink!” Scarlett, grinning mischievously, stepped into the center. “Today’s not the only story. Vanessa gave Griffin flowers yesterday too!” She giggled and glanced at me, looking for confirmation. Vanessa seemed to think Scarlett had pinpointed the issue. She turned to me. “You’re upset over something that trivial?” Casually, she added, “I bought you flowers yesterday too, but you left early, so I couldn’t give them to you. I still have them, though.” She walked to a corner of the suite, pulling out a small, wilted bouquet of lisianthus from a box filled with beer bottles. The second she produced it, someone stifled a laugh. It was painfully clear why—the lisianthus bouquet looked embarrassingly cheap next to the extravagant roses she’d given Griffin. Griffin had even brought the roses along, making the comparison all the more glaring. I could feel the mocking stares around me, silently ridiculing the idea that I could ever compare to Griffin. Griffin raised his eyebrows smugly, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. Feigning disapproval, he glanced at the lisianthus and said, “Vanessa, you should’ve given Logan roses. Why this?” The tone barely stopped short of outright saying she was tossing me scraps. Vanessa replied indifferently, “It was late after the dinner last night. There weren’t any roses left. This will do. Anyway, he doesn’t know flowers—he shouldn’t care.” The best for Griffin, and whatever’s left for me. The difference between love and indifference couldn’t be clearer. Why did she assume I wouldn’t care? She held the flowers out to me, but I didn’t reach for them. Vanessa’s brows furrowed again. “Don’t you like flowers anymore? I picked these especially for you.” “No thanks,” I said flatly. “Give them to someone else.” “You’re being ridiculous again,” she shot back. “I’m not. I mean it. I have things to do, so I’ll leave you all to it.” I opened the suite door and walked out without looking back. I hadn’t taken more than a few steps before the whispers started behind me. “Logan’s being so dramatic.” “Griffin and Vanessa’s video is blowing up online. It’s brought in tons of sponsors for the studio—why is he so hung up on this?” “Exactly.” Vanessa, finally losing her patience, tossed the flowers aside. “Forget him. Let him sulk.” Every harsh word cut into me like a blade. I paused mid-step, a wave of sadness washing over me. To her, I was utterly insignificant.

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The autopsy report of my daughter revealed she had been drugged and subjected to long-term beatings and abuse before her death. I admit I wasn’t a good mother. It wasn’t until after Lily’s death that I finally acknowledged this fact. Night after night, I was haunted by nightmares. In my dreams, my daughter, covered in blood, would say to me, “Mom, avenge me.” I had pushed her towards the abyss in my desire for her to succeed. I spent all my savings on plastic surgery, forged a new identity, and finally managed to infiltrate this prestigious preschool. Don’t cry, Lily. Mom is here to avenge you. I removed the layers of bandages from my head. When I looked in the mirror again, I couldn’t help but marvel. What a beauty. Willow-leaf eyebrows, double eyelids – a strange combination, yet exuding charm. The plastic surgeon asked me, “Can I take a photo to use as a template?” I smiled and declined. It’s best if this face isn’t exposed to the public too much. After a few days of recovery, I went for an interview at an elite preschool called Pink White Purple. The vice principal who interviewed me was very satisfied with my qualifications. After a series of questions, I passed the interview. As I was about to leave, she asked why someone fluent in four languages and with overseas experience would want to be a preschool teacher. I smiled and said, “The flowers of our nation deserve the best protection.”

Three days later, I officially became a proud preschool teacher. The children were adorable, gathering around me and calling me Miss Cindy. My colleague, a young woman named Sarah, smiled and said, “You’re so good with them. The children all like you.” I chuckled and joked, “They like us both. After all, we’re both young and pretty.” As we were leaving work, Sarah said with a smile, “I’m off then. My husband’s here to pick me up.” I followed Sarah and just as I saw her husband getting out of the car to open the door for her, I quickly ran up to them and handed Sarah a notebook from my bag. “Sarah, you forgot your notebook.” She hurriedly took it and thanked me. Her husband’s eyes smiled at me from behind his gold-rimmed glasses. I quickly averted my gaze, but Sarah still caught our awkward interaction. Sarah looked at her husband somewhat playfully, and after a few seconds, she introduced me, “This is my new colleague, the beautiful Cindy. You’ll be seeing her often from now on.” Sarah’s husband extended his hand and introduced himself, “Dr. James, from City Hospital. Nice to meet you.” I pretended to be hesitant, glanced at Sarah, and then timidly reached out to barely touch Dr. James’ fingertips. Sarah pulled Dr. James away and hurriedly got into the car, her expression not looking too good. Ah, perhaps this is the pain of being too beautiful. Always being seen as a potential threat, always being assumed to be a homewrecker.

As expected, Dr. James asked me out. I’m not sure how he got my number, but when I received his call, I acted very flustered. I asked him, “Does Sarah know you’re asking me out?” He seemed to pause on the other end of the line, and after a while, he said, “How could she possibly know? I didn’t expect such a charming beauty like you to ask such an embarrassing question.” I giggled, my voice soft and sweet. He asked me, “Do you want to meet up?” Without hesitation, I said, “Of course, I want to meet you. Just the two of us.” He laughed heartily and set the time and place. Ten o’clock tomorrow night, at Love’s Tavern. I was actually a bit surprised that he didn’t just ask me to go straight to a hotel room. But I was happy about it too. After all, people all look the same without clothes on; it’s the flirting while dressed that shows the differences between individuals. I arrived on time, wearing a loose T-shirt and shorts. Under his shocked gaze, I sat down calmly. He raised his glass and said with pursed lips, “You’re quite special.” “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I mimicked his gesture and raised my glass. “Thank you for the drink and the praise.” Dr. James was indeed a master of flirtation. His pace was neither too fast nor too slow, occasionally telling amusing stories from work that made me laugh out loud, and then switching to topics that both men and women love to discuss. I raised my glass to him again, “I never thought a doctor could tell dirty jokes more vividly than the average man.” He downed his full glass of sake in one go, “Can’t help it, I’m human too and need to let off steam. At least I’m just talking, which is better than some beasts out there.” I became interested, “What do you mean by beasts? Do they visit prostitutes or use drugs?” He shook his head playfully, “Much worse than those vices.” I pretended to be angry and pouted, “You’re such a tease, leaving people hanging like that.” He laughed out loud and asked me, “Do you really want to know?” I nodded firmly, looking at him with feigned innocence. “Alright, I give in to you, but you can’t tell anyone else, okay?” He specifically warned me and made me sit next to him. Dr. James put his arm around me, brushed my hair away from my ear, and whispered, “There’s a type of person with violent tendencies who likes to abuse children.” I swallowed hard, suppressing the pain in my heart, and asked him, “Really? They’re so perverted.” Dr. James touched my cheek with his finger, saying indulgently, “Scaredy-cat. But don’t worry, I’m not that kind of person.” “I like mature beauties, especially those who pretend to be innocent.” His finger moved down to my lips. I stared at that finger for a few seconds, then lightly licked it with the tip of my tongue. I could feel his gaze, instantly becoming heated. If we weren’t in the main hall of the tavern, I suspect he might have taken me right then and there.

The next day at work, Sarah looked upset. When I asked her with concern, she just shook her head. I kindly said, “If you’re not feeling well, go rest in the office first. I can handle things here.” Sarah thought for a moment and finally nodded. She said to me, “Thank you, I appreciate it.” I smiled lightly and told her not to mention it. By lunchtime, Sarah still hadn’t come to the cafeteria. I brought some lunch back to the office and found Sarah with very swollen eyes. “Did you… cry?” I asked nervously. She hesitated for a long time, perhaps unable to bear it any longer, and finally sobbed as she confided in me. “My husband didn’t come home until midnight yesterday, even though he wasn’t on duty. He came back very late, reeking of alcohol, and started hitting and yelling at me as soon as he got home.” I quickly handed her some tissues. She took them and cried for a while longer before finally stopping. Sarah said, “Cindy, thank you for being my confidant.” I waved my hand, “Don’t mention it. Who doesn’t have some troubles they need to talk about?” She looked at me gratefully and accepted the lunch I had brought for her. In the blink of an eye, I had been working there for three months. During this time, I finally got to know all my colleagues at the preschool clearly, and I even got along well with the security guards and cleaners. Everyone praised me, saying Miss Cindy is beautiful, has high emotional intelligence, and will surely make a name for herself in the future. Some people even praised me to my face like this, but I just shook my head and said, “I have no ambition. I’d be content if I could just be a good preschool teacher for the rest of my life.” So those who praised me would say that Miss Cindy is a breath of fresh air among women, as pure as an orchid, truly a good woman. I smiled and didn’t refute them anymore. When people want to praise you, no matter what you say, they’ll think you’re right. Of course, if people want to belittle you, no matter what you do, you’ll be criticized and have your spine painfully jabbed. I think Sarah must have deeply felt this. She was naturally someone who wore her emotions on her face, direct and self-centered. And at just 27 years old, she had become one of the top senior preschool teachers in the city, naturally receiving a lot of attention at the school. So she became particularly arrogant, looking down on others. Especially next to my humble self, she appeared even more proud. During these three months since I started working, whenever she angered other teachers, I would apologize on her behalf; when she complained about the cafeteria food, I would praise the cooks’ skills after meals when I had nothing else to do. I thought that at first, people around must have thought I was her sycophant. But as time passed, they finally understood that I was everyone’s little ray of sunshine. Sarah’s reputation got worse and worse. In the anonymous evaluation that took place every six months, she received over forty negative votes. She was called in for a talk with the principal. Sarah, being too proud to accept such humiliation, got into an argument with the principal. The conflict wasn’t actually that serious, but as words escalated, the principal became angry and said she would fire Sarah. Sarah laughed coldly, slammed the table, and shouted loudly for us onlookers to hear. “No need to fire me, I’ll leave on my own!”

Sarah resigned, which really angered the principal. I’m not sure if it was to save face or if she genuinely meant it, but she threatened to blacklist Sarah. For some reason, Sarah didn’t seem afraid at all. I don’t know if she’s just gutsy or truly foolish. Pink White Purple Preschool is the top-ranked elite preschool in the city. A woman capable of running a preschool to the top naturally has impressive methods. If she really wanted to blacklist Sarah, Sarah would definitely not be able to continue working in the preschool circle. As Sarah was leaving the classroom with her belongings, I squeezed out a few genuine tears. Perhaps no one else in the school was as sincerely sorry to see her go. She smiled at me casually and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” Seeing my confusion, she leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I know the principal’s secret.” Now it was my turn to look at her in shock. She patted my shoulder and smiled at me again. After seeing Sarah off, before I could finish tidying up the children’s blankets, my internal line rang. It was the principal calling me to her office.

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My wife has been in London for six months on a professional exchange program. Coincidentally, our wedding anniversary was coming up. Wanting to surprise her, I secretly booked a flight to London. Little did I know, she had her own “surprise” for me. She was pregnant. Her belly was visibly round, at least six months along. Under pressure, she revealed the truth: her first love, Bryce Adler, was in the late stages of cancer and wanted to leave behind an heir. Out of pity, she agreed to have his child. When I heard this, I was furious. Yet, she had the audacity to look me in the eye and say, “I just wanted to help him leave a legacy. Is that wrong?” I was trembling with rage. A woman like this wasn’t worth keeping. Content The day before our wedding anniversary, my wife, Naomi Blake, and I were texting. Me: “Honey, tomorrow is our fifth anniversary. We’ve celebrated the first four together, but this year you’re all the way across the ocean. I feel so lonely—I’m tempted to book a ticket and come see you right now.” Naomi: “Don’t. You’re so busy at work, and tickets are expensive. Just hang in there for six more months. I’ll be back before you know it.” Me: “Alright, if you say so.” What she didn’t know was that I’d already booked the ticket to London. I wanted to surprise her. The next morning, I boarded the plane. After six hours in the air, I arrived in London, clutching a bouquet of roses. Excited, I knocked on the door of her apartment. The door opened, and there she was. “Surprise!” I beamed. “Did I catch you off guard?” “E-Ethan?” she stammered, her face a mix of shock and unease. “That’s right—your loving husband traveled all this way to see you!” I said, moving in to embrace her. But something hard pressed against me. Looking down, I saw her belly. Round and unmistakably pregnant. At least six months along. My heart dropped. “Y-you’re pregnant?” I asked, my voice trembling in disbelief. “Come inside,” she said, pulling me in and shutting the door. “You must be exhausted. Sit down; I’ll get you some water.” “I don’t want water,” I snapped, throwing the roses onto the floor. “I want to know what the hell is going on.” “As you can see, I’m pregnant,” she said calmly. “You told me you were infertile! How is this even possible?” After our marriage, she had tearfully shown me a medical report claiming she couldn’t have children. I had held her and reassured her that kids didn’t matter to me—what mattered was that we had each other. I even suggested adoption. “I… I can actually have children,” she admitted, looking like a guilty child caught red-handed. “What about the report?!” “I faked it,” she confessed. It turned out she wasn’t infertile. She had fabricated the diagnosis to avoid having children, as she feared it would derail her career during its peak. “Then whose child is it?” I growled through gritted teeth. “Ethan, watch your words. This isn’t some bastard child.” “You want to act righteous after what you’ve done?!” I shot back, fury overtaking me. “Don’t be cruel,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears. “Tell me. Who’s the father?” I demanded. “It’s… Bryce Adler’s.” I froze. Bryce Adler—her first love. And a married man. “You rekindled your old flame?” “It’s not like that,” she said hastily. “He has late-stage cancer. He wanted a child to carry on his name. I pitied him and agreed, but it was artificial insemination. I swear I never betrayed you.” Her words shattered my world. “How could you do something so insane? You’re a married woman!” “His wife can’t have children,” she said softly. “So you decided to step in and play surrogate?!” “He begged me, Ethan. I couldn’t say no.” “You’re such a kind and thoughtful woman,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why stop with Bryce? A few of my colleagues are infertile—maybe you can help them too.” “Ethan Whitaker, you’re disgusting.” “Not as disgusting as you are.” “I just wanted to help him leave a legacy. What’s so wrong about that?” she said, her voice defiant.

My blood boiled. She had volunteered for this program, claiming it would help her career, but now I saw it was all a cover to hide her pregnancy in another country. “A married woman having a child for another married man—you think that’s acceptable?!” I shouted. “Ethan, don’t be angry,” she said soothingly. “Once I have this baby, I promise we can have one of our own.” “Terminate the pregnancy now, or we’re done,” I said, my voice ice cold. “It’s six months along—I can’t. And besides, it’s a life. It’s my baby. How could you say something so cruel?” Tears streamed down her face as she glared at me. I noticed a used ashtray on the coffee table and men’s underwear drying on the balcony. My rage ignited anew. “Is Bryce living with you?” I snarled. Her face turned crimson, and she stammered, “No… He just visits occasionally. To… to check on the baby.” “So that’s why you didn’t want me to visit. You didn’t want me to catch you two in the act.” “Ethan, don’t twist things! Nothing happened between us,” she said, her face red with embarrassment. Just then, the door opened. “Naomi, I bought you a maternity nightgown and some nursing bras. Try them on and see if they fit,” Bryce said as he walked in. When he saw me, he froze. “Bryce, you need to leave,” Naomi said hastily. “Ethan and I need to talk.” “Why are you crying?” Bryce asked, moving to her side with concern. “I’m fine. Just go.” “Did he hurt you?” Bryce turned to me, his expression dark. “Ethan Whitaker, are you even a man? If you’ve got a problem, take it out on me.” “Gladly,” I said, swinging my fist at him. “Stop!” Naomi stepped between us, crying. “Ethan, how can you hit a cancer patient?” “Move, or I’ll hit you both,” I growled. “Ethan, you’re out of line! She’s pregnant!” Bryce shouted. “She seems more like your wife than mine,” I said bitterly. Naomi stretched her arms out to shield Bryce. “I won’t let you hurt him!” Enraged, I shoved her aside and kicked Bryce in the stomach. He doubled over in pain. “You… you hit me?” Bryce gasped, clutching his stomach. I didn’t stop. Naomi clung to me, begging, “Please, Ethan! Don’t do this. You’ll kill him!” “You don’t get to defend him!” I roared. “Then hit me instead!” she cried, collapsing to her knees. This woman—my wife—protecting another man. The humiliation was unbearable. Bryce coughed up blood, his voice trembling. “If something happens to my child, Ethan Whitaker, I’ll make you pay.” “Your child?” I spat, throwing another punch at his face. The chaos was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Security. Open up!” Naomi’s face drained of color.

Bryce Adler hurried to open the door. Two building security officers stood outside, flanked by a group of curious neighbors. It seemed the commotion had drawn attention, and someone had called security. “Officers, this man broke into my home and assaulted both me and my wife!” Bryce pointed at me, his tone accusatory. “You better clarify,” I growled. “Who’s wife are you talking about?” The neighbors behind the officers began speaking at once. “I’ve never seen that guy before. But Mr. Adler and Ms. Blake? They’re married—introduced themselves when they moved in,” said one male neighbor. “Yeah, they’re a couple. We even had dinner with them once,” chimed another. “Everyone on this floor knows Mr. Adler and Ms. Blake. This other guy looks like trouble—he’s probably some kind of criminal. Just look at Mr. Adler’s face—it’s all bruised. You should call the police!” Bryce smirked, a triumphant and mocking expression that made my blood boil. In a foreign land, I had no way of proving Naomi Blake was my wife. I turned to her, barely suppressing my rage. “Naomi, tell them yourself—who are you married to?” The neighbors turned their eyes to her. She flushed, hesitating for a moment before finally pointing at me. Relief washed over me. But then she opened her mouth. “I don’t know him,” Naomi said, pointing at Bryce instead. “He’s my husband.” My mind exploded. I stood there, dazed and disoriented, as the police arrived and took us all in for questioning. At the police station, Naomi finally told the truth: I was her husband. However, because Bryce held permanent residency in London, technically making him a partial citizen, and I had assaulted him, I was held responsible. Bryce smugly offered a deal: apologize, stop causing trouble, and let Naomi carry the baby to term, and he’d drop the charges. I refused and was thrown in jail. Three days later, I was released. Standing outside, I saw Naomi waiting for me. Her pregnant belly—a symbol of betrayal—stood out starkly against the winter coat she wore. She approached me, her tone a mix of smugness and disdain. “I begged Bryce to let you go. You see how generous he is? Not like you, always so petty.” “Oh, you’re right,” I replied coldly. “In this modern age, sharing a wife shouldn’t be a big deal, right?” “Do you have to be so sarcastic?” she snapped. She handed me the key to a hotel room. “Stay here and cool off. Call me when you’re ready to talk.” I laughed bitterly. How had this turned into my fault? Two days later, I called Naomi and suggested we meet to “discuss things.” She seemed relieved, thinking I had finally come around to her perspective. She eagerly set up a meeting at the Golden Banquet Hall in 7th Street. The next afternoon, I arrived at the restaurant. A waiter led me to a private dining room, where Naomi and Bryce were already seated. I took the seat across from them, placing my phone discreetly on the table. The table was already laden with dishes. “Ethan, I know I crossed a line, but you hit me, so we’re even. Let’s bury the hatchet. Here’s to a fresh start!” Bryce raised his glass in a toast. I took a small sip. His smirk faltered, but he didn’t press the issue. “Ethan, Bryce is being sincere. Why can’t you just finish the drink?” Naomi chided me. “Forget it, Naomi. Let’s get to the point,” Bryce interjected. “I’m dying, Ethan—stage IV cancer. I don’t have much time left, and I need an heir. It’s the most basic duty of a man. Please try to understand.” I raised an eyebrow. “You look pretty healthy for someone on death’s door.” “Looks can be deceiving. The tumors are eating me alive.” He pulled out a bank card and placed it in front of me. “Here’s $20,000. The password is Naomi’s birthday. Consider it compensation.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Why stop there? Add another zero, and Naomi’s all yours.” “Ethan, stop being so childish!” Naomi snapped. “Alright, alright. My bad,” I said with a smirk. “But let’s be real, $20,000 won’t even cover raising your kid.” “Don’t worry about that. Once the baby is born, I’ll take it to my mom in the countryside to raise,” Bryce said. “And your wife won’t find out?” I asked. “She hates the countryside and hasn’t visited my mom since we got married. She’ll never know.” Bryce sounded almost proud. “You’re hiding a child from your wife, and you feel no guilt?” He sighed dramatically. “What guilt? She can’t have kids—what kind of wife is that?” “And you found someone who could lay eggs for you. How convenient.” I emphasized the word “eggs,” my voice dripping with mockery. Naomi bristled. “Ethan, you’ve taken the money. Shouldn’t you be satisfied?” I chuckled. “Sure, let’s settle this. But this isn’t a three-person decision.” “What do you mean?” Bryce and Naomi asked in unison. At that moment, the door burst open.

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Three months before our wedding, my fiancé Ryan posted on Instagram – photos of his marriage certificate with my adopted sister Chloe, along with pictures of her pregnant belly. The caption read: “Legally welcoming our little bundle of joy.” Chloe commented with a shy emoji. My mom liked the post, commenting: “Once the baby is born, I’ll take care of it so you two can enjoy your time together.” I couldn’t help but reply with a question mark. The next moment, Ryan’s harsh rebuke came at me like a slap in the face. “She’s only borrowing my name for a year of marriage. Once the baby is born, I’ll be back with you.” “Don’t be so petty. My mom also said we should only get our marriage license after you give birth to a son. It works out perfectly – we can have the wedding first and get the license later.” I gave a faint “Mm” in response, then deleted all Instagram posts related to Ryan before posting a new one: “Need a new groom. Who wants to marry me?” Ryan was the first to reply. [Aria Young, are you out of your mind? I’m just marrying her on paper, why are you making such a big deal out of it?] [You don’t seriously think posting on Instagram will make me jealous, do you? That’s laughable. I’m warning you, stop causing trouble over nothing, and don’t you dare give Chloe a hard time.] Chloe quickly followed up on Ryan’s comment. [Sis, Ryan is just trying to help our baby be born legally. I won’t steal him away from you. After you and Ryan get married, my child can call you mom too.] My mom scolded me for being ungrateful. [You get to have a child without going through the pain of childbirth. Chloe is doing you such a huge favor, shouldn’t you be thanking her?] Several comments followed from Ryan’s buddies, all chiming in. [You and Chloe are sisters, so it doesn’t matter which of you Ryan marries, you’re all family anyway. How about Chloe gets him Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and you get Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday!] Everyone was joking and laughing at my expense. I stared at the screen in shock, tears welling up and spilling over onto my phone. They were clearly in the wrong. Yet they had the audacity to turn around and blame me. How ridiculous. These people weren’t worth my tears. I wiped my eyes forcefully and scrolled through the mess of comments. One stood out from the rest. It was from Sean White: “Can I be your new groom?” Sean and I grew up together. After college graduation, I stayed in the city while he chose to study abroad. We’d avoided each other since I started dating Ryan in college. It had been years since we last spoke. As I pondered this, Sean called me directly. “Aria, I’ve liked you for a long time.” “You know I’ve always hated your adopted sister, so I would never have anything to do with her. I don’t have a bunch of shady friends either. These past few years, I’ve been focused on my career and haven’t dated anyone.” As he spoke, I suddenly received a contract. When I opened it, I saw it was the transfer of rights to all his assets and shares. While I was still in shock, Sean nervously said: “Aria, this is all the sincerity I have to offer. Will you give me a chance?” My nose stung with emotion. Suddenly, I remembered when we were kids. Our teacher rewarded us with two candies that Sean loved. He was clearly craving them, but he didn’t eat a single one. He saved both for me. He had always given me his utmost sincerity. I choked up a bit as I said: “I will.” Love had always seemed so elusive. I tried to grasp it, only to end up hurt and scarred. I had thought… I had thought being alone would be fine. But my grandmother’s dying wish was to see me married, to know someone would take care of me after she was gone. Ryan wasn’t worthy. But if the groom was Sean, I think Grandma would be truly at ease. Sean’s voice was full of joy. “Then I’ll wrap things up at work and come back to marry you within two weeks.” “Aria, you’ll wait for me and won’t change your mind, right?” His tone held a hint of pitiful pleading. It reminded me of when we were kids and I promised to be his bride when we grew up. I made a sound of agreement. Suddenly I felt the urge to cry. “Sean, let’s pinky swear on it.” After hanging up, my mom pushed open my bedroom door. “Where’s that sapphire necklace your father left you before he died?” I remained silent, not answering. Mom frowned in displeasure. “What’s with that attitude? Your sister just thought it was pretty and wanted to borrow it for a few days. Hurry up and get it out, don’t be so stingy!” Chloe hung on Mom’s arm, saying dejectedly: “It’s okay, Mom. Sis has never seen me as real family. If she doesn’t want to lend it, I won’t force her.” “She wouldn’t dare refuse! That necklace belonged to my husband, your father. I’m making the decision to give it to you today.” Mom hugged Chloe and glared sternly at me. “If you don’t hand it over, don’t blame me for having people search your room.” I stared at her blankly, my smile more painful than crying. The once gentle and loving mother in my memories. Had ultimately transformed into this harsh, scolding face in reality. But I was about to leave this place forever anyway. I no longer had the heart to argue pointlessly with her. Silently, I took the sapphire necklace out of its velvet box and handed it to her. Mom smiled with satisfaction. “That’s more like it. Chloe is your sister, so you as the older one should let her have the nice things.” After Mom left, Chloe put on the necklace right in front of me. “Sis, don’t blame Mom for favoring me. To be honest, this necklace looks better on me anyway.” “Just like how Ryan is more suitable as my boyfriend.” “What belongs to me, others can never have.” Seeing Chloe’s smug expression, I didn’t say a word. People like her – the more you engage, the more they push it. I picked up my purse and walked past her down the stairs, ignoring her completely. “Ah! Sis, why did you push me…” Chloe suddenly darted in front of me, pretending I had shoved her as she stumbled towards the stairs. I may despise her, but I instinctively reached out to grab her. After all, falling down over 20 steps was no joke. “Aria Young, you vicious woman!” Ryan violently smacked away my hand that was steadying Chloe’s arm. My hand slammed into the railing with a loud “THUD.” The pain instantly brought cold sweat to my brow. “Ryan, thank goodness you came in time, or else I…” Chloe hid in Ryan’s arms, her face streaked with tears and fear. “It’s okay, don’t be scared. I’m here.” Ryan stroked Chloe’s head, comforting her softly. “I won’t let anyone bully you.” I looked at my own hand, already bruising and swollen from the impact. Then I looked at Chloe, who had only gotten a little scare but was being held tight and fussed over by Ryan. Suddenly it all felt so ironic. The boy who once showered me with love and promised to treat me well forever. The man who was supposed to marry me in just three months. How could he have changed his heart so suddenly? After soothing Chloe, Ryan glared at me darkly. “I know you’ve been unhappy about me marrying her and having a baby behind your back. You can take it out on me if you want, since I didn’t tell you beforehand.” “But you can’t hurt Chloe. Her health is fragile, she’s pitiful enough as it is.” “All she wanted was a chance to be a mother. What’s wrong with that? Why should she bear the brunt of your anger?” He pointed at me angrily. “You have to apologize to Chloe today!” I struggled to control my trembling body. Through gritted teeth I asked: “Then what did I do wrong?” “What exactly did I do wrong?” Ryan stared at my reddened eyes, taken aback for a moment. “Never mind, Ryan. Even though I almost fell to my death…” “I don’t blame Sis, and I don’t need her to apologize.” “You two are still getting married in the future. I don’t want you to fight because of me.” Chloe cried pitifully. Ryan sighed, looking at her with tender affection. “Chloe, sometimes your kindness breaks my heart.” He turned to me with cold eyes. “At the end of the day, you’re just jealous of Chloe. You can’t stand to see her doing better than you.” “I’ll let it slide this time since Chloe spoke up for you. But if you dare hurt her again, I won’t go easy on you.” He picked Chloe up in his arms. Before leaving, he looked at me with disappointment and said: “You don’t measure up to your sister at all.” Only I remained in the silent living room. I stared blankly at the withered leaves drifting outside the window. Finally unable to hold back, I crouched down and sobbed into my hands. One last time… This was the last time I would cry over Ryan. That afternoon, Ryan posted on Instagram. It was a 9-photo collage. The photos showed different corners of a house. The caption read: “Every room, every piece of furniture, every decoration here was carefully chosen by me. I just want to give my baby a warm and comfortable home.” Many people offered congratulations in the comments. “Congrats to Mr. Brown on becoming a father so soon!” “So you and Aria are having a shotgun wedding! Congratulations!” “The bride is so lucky to have such a good husband in Ryan. So envious!” “I wouldn’t miss your wedding in three months for a billion-dollar deal.” Just as the comment section was buzzing with well-wishes, Chloe suddenly chimed in: “Please don’t misunderstand, everyone. This isn’t Ryan’s marital home, it’s my house.” The comments section instantly fell into awkward silence. I was the first to break it, posting: “Three’s a crowd. I’m out. Wishing you two happiness.” With that, I couldn’t be bothered to see what else they might say. I directly deleted Ryan and Chloe from my friends list. Within minutes, Ryan called me. “Aria Young, have you had enough of this tantrum?” I calmly replied: “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” Ryan fumed. “That comment you left on my Instagram was clearly trying to smear dirt on Chloe.” “Do you have to paint her as the other woman to be satisfied?” “If you keep slandering her, we can just call off the wedding!” I listened to his cold, heartless accusations, my heart as still as dead water, unmoved. “Ryan Brown, what makes you think I’d still want someone’s sloppy seconds?” I hung up the phone. Perhaps the words “sloppy seconds” stung him. He called me countless times after that. When the calls wouldn’t go through, he bombarded me with messages. I ignored them all. In ten days I would be marrying Sean. These people would all become part of my past. I had hoped to spend the remaining days coexisting peacefully with them, but I never expected Chloe to knock over my father’s urn. The ashes scattered on the floor. Not only did she show no remorse, she even let her pet cat urinate on them. Then she looked at me with glee. “Sis, look! The ashes can even be used as kitty litter for my cat!” In that moment, the grief and rage I had been suppressing exploded. I snatched up the baseball bat by the door and swung it viciously at Chloe. She took one hit and ran away screaming, her face pale. “Aria Young! You’ve really gone too far! How dare you hit your sister!” Mom’s appearance made Chloe feel like she’d found a savior. She hid behind Mom, trembling. Sobbing, she said: “Mom, I’m scared. Sis tried to kill me!” Mom shielded Chloe like a mother hen protecting her chick. She berated me harshly: “I’ve let your bullying of your sister slide before, treating it as harmless squabbling. But this time you’ve gone too far.” She was my mother, yet she always stood against me, defending an adopted daughter with no blood relation to her. Nothing could be more heartbreaking than this. I stared at Mom through tear-filled eyes. “She knocked over Dad’s urn!” “That was Dad! My Dad! Why? Why!” Why did they have to destroy the last memento Dad left me, even though I had already been so tolerant? Why didn’t my own mother love me?

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When I was preparing our honeymoon suite, I found suspicious stains on the bed sheets while preparing our honeymoon suite. Someone else had been in our new marital bed! My mind went blank. I immediately video called my fiancé. Surprisingly, he picked up right away. “The new bed is very comfortable. I’ve tested it for you,” said a sultry female voice. It was Phoenix’s assistant, Lydia, who answered the call. The woman smiled seductively and arrogantly. Well, I guess I don’t want this man anymore. “Where’s Phoenix? Tell him to answer the phone,” I said, stunned for a few seconds before quickly regaining my composure. Lydia pretended to carefully examine my surroundings through the video. Then she smiled coyly, “Miss Cora, you’re in the honeymoon suite, aren’t you?” “The new bed is very comfortable. I’ve tested it for you,” she repeated. I felt like the ground had dropped out from under me, my mind going blank. I stared intently at the woman in the video, momentarily speechless. Lydia’s gaze swept over the bed sheets, her tone smug: “The groom is quite good too. I’ve tested him out for you as well.” By now, I could clearly see her surroundings – it was a hotel room. I forcefully suppressed my anger, trying to stay calm. I asked again, “Where is Phoenix?” Lydia deliberately glanced in a certain direction, then feigned reluctance: “Mr. Brown is working overtime, of course. He’s very busy.” Just then, I heard that familiar voice. “Lydia, come help me wash my back.” At that moment, I felt like I’d been paralyzed. My mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. “You just want to trick me into showering with you, you naughty boy,” Lydia said. As she spoke, she gave me a triumphant look, then abruptly ended the video call. I collapsed to the floor, all strength leaving my body. A tidal wave of anger and sorrow engulfed me. After I don’t know how long, I let out a bitter laugh and tossed the bed sheets into the trash. Tomorrow was supposed to be my wedding day with Phoenix. While I was busy preparing our honeymoon suite, he was busy taking a romantic bath with his female assistant. I knew Lydia wanted to ruin my wedding. She had succeeded. I sent Phoenix a message: “Phoenix, let’s break up. The wedding is off.” I wanted nothing to do with a tainted honeymoon suite or a tainted man. I looked at the decorative figurines on the table – a kissing bride and groom in traditional red wedding attire. I threw them in the trash too. I smashed our framed wedding photos hanging on the wall. I destroyed all the decorations I had carefully put up around the suite. I sent messages to friends and family canceling the wedding, then turned off my phone and went home. Once things quieted down, I forced myself not to think about all the years I’d spent with that dog of a man. I drank myself into a stupor, seeking oblivion in alcohol. The next morning, I was awakened by furious pounding on my door. Phoenix and his groomsmen were outside, all dressed up in suits and looking presentable. The roses Phoenix was holding were crushed and scattered. Seeing that I had clearly just woken up, he became enraged. “Cora! Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted. The ugly, contorted look on his face was almost comical. I couldn’t help but laugh. This laugh seemed to infuriate Phoenix even more. He violently threw the mangled bouquet to the ground, roaring, “Do you know today is our wedding day?!”

I rubbed my eyes, extremely irritated at having my hangover disturbed. My tone was equally harsh: “Didn’t I tell you the wedding’s off?! We’re breaking up, don’t you understand?!” Phoenix’s eyes were bloodshot, as if he was desperately trying to contain his anger. Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut and said through gritted teeth, “Get dressed and come with me right now. I’ll pretend nothing happened. I can forgive you this one time.” I don’t know how he got the impression I was some lovesick girl who couldn’t leave him. I had just taken our relationship seriously, and he assumed I couldn’t live without him! I glanced over the groomsmen behind him, who all looked like they were enjoying the show to some degree. “Phoenix! You’re the one who did something wrong. Do you want to discuss your relationship with Lydia right here?” I said coldly. “Get lost now! We’re over, understand?!” I shouted. Phoenix was stunned for a moment before his expression changed drastically. He no longer had his previous arrogant air. His eyes darted around as he avoided my gaze, but he didn’t leave. His tone softened. “You misunderstood. It’s my fault. I should have explained things to you earlier,” he said. “You can hit me or yell at me later if you want. Today is our wedding day, the most important day of our lives. All our family and friends are waiting for us. Please don’t make a scene. Just come with me, okay?” he pleaded. He shook his head and smiled bitterly, his expression earnest, as if I was the one being unreasonable. This man could change his tune so quickly. He was quite the smooth operator. I could see the groomsmen giving me disapproving looks. One of Phoenix’s close friends even tried to persuade me. “Come on, sis. Today’s not the day to throw a tantrum. You can do whatever you want after the wedding,” he said. Very well. If Phoenix wanted to force my hand, I’d play along. But whatever happened next would be on him. I nodded. “Fine. Wait here.” I quickly washed up and threw on a dress before heading out. Phoenix asked where I was going to do my makeup and change into my wedding dress, but I refused. His face darkened, but he couldn’t do anything about it. At the hotel, only Phoenix’s family and friends were there. Although my relatives and friends didn’t know exactly what had happened, they knew I had canceled the wedding. Seeing me arrive dressed so casually, the guests’ expressions became quite meaningful. Several aunties immediately started criticizing me. “How can you throw a tantrum over such an important event like your wedding? You’re so willful. Only Phoenix would put up with this. Anyone else would have left you by now.” “Exactly! All these guests are waiting here. If you didn’t want to get married, why did you wait until now?!” “Alright, alright. Cora’s here now, isn’t she?” Mrs. Brown interjected, taking my arm and leading me to sit at the main table. Her face showed no signs of displeasure. She even asked me, “You silly girl, we were so worried when we couldn’t reach you. Did Phoenix upset you? Tell us, and we’ll teach him a lesson.” Mr. Brown also chimed in gently, “That’s right, we’re on your side.” Phoenix’s parents had always been very good to me. Marrying into their family wouldn’t have involved any mother-in-law issues at all. Mrs. Brown was an especially considerate and tolerant woman, and Mr. Brown was a kind and generous man. But Phoenix had cheated. I could never forgive that, no matter what. I remained silent for a moment. Mrs. Brown probably thought I was still upset. She spoke earnestly, “Cora, listen to me. Go get your makeup done and change into your dress. I promise I’ll make Phoenix apologize to you later.” “Yes, don’t ruin this joyous day,” Mr. Brown agreed. I let out a long sigh. At that moment, I wanted to explain everything properly to Phoenix’s parents and resolve this peacefully. But someone’s arrival interrupted me. Lydia floated in wearing a flowing red chiffon dress, looking delicate and pretty. She smiled slightly, her gaze challenging as she looked at me. Her elaborate makeup contrasted sharply with my bare face. The rhythmic clicking of her high heels attracted everyone’s attention. “I hope I’m not late. Congratulations on your wedding, Miss Cora,” she said sweetly.

I smiled back. How lovely she looked in that red dress, just like the star of the wedding. Lydia casually walked over to the main table and sat down in the seat next to me that should have been Phoenix’s. As she bent to sit down, a flash of light at her neck caught my eye. I couldn’t help but look closer. I thought my heart had already turned to ice, but apparently it could freeze a few more degrees. It was a diamond ring, identical to my wedding ring. I had personally designed that style – there was only one in the whole world. Now it hung around the neck of this homewrecker. If my wedding had gone ahead as planned, I don’t know what kind of ring Phoenix would have given me. But whether he found a random replacement or took it off his assistant’s neck, it was utterly disgusting. I guess I still couldn’t help feeling angry. I dug my nails into my palms, trying not to lose my composure. Just then, Phoenix walked in with the officiant. “Isn’t the bride wearing a wedding dress? A red dress is fine too, very pretty,” the officiant said approvingly. He clearly thought Lydia, in her red dress and full makeup, was the pouting bride. Lydia glanced at me, then acted embarrassed. “Oh no, I’m not the bride today. Please don’t be upset, Miss Cora,” she said, waving her hands. Phoenix strode over, looking furious. He demanded, “Why haven’t you gone to do your makeup and change? Do you not care about our wedding at all?!” He reached out to grab me. Mrs. Brown quickly intervened, scolding Phoenix, “Phoenix, watch your tone! There’s no need to be so harsh.” Lydia chimed in, “That’s right, Miss Cora is just being a little willful. Mr. Brown, you should coax her. Don’t let it ruin the wedding.” Phoenix got even angrier, clearly frustrated in front of all the guests. He pointed at me and said, “Cora, your tantrums have limits. Go change right now!” Lydia stood up and patted Phoenix’s arm soothingly. “Don’t be angry. I’ll help you greet the guests and apologize while Miss Cora gets ready.” “Why don’t you just finish the whole wedding for him while you’re at it,” I said coldly. I was done pretending everything was fine. Clearly there was no way to resolve this calmly today. I made a snap decision and announced loudly, “I’m sorry everyone had to see this farce. Please enjoy the food and drinks, but Phoenix and I are officially breaking up as of today. You’re all witnesses.” “How long are you going to keep this up?!” Phoenix glared at me furiously. Lydia looked very anxious and even stamped her foot. Her high heel made a crisp sound against the floor. “Miss Cora, please don’t misunderstand. I just meant I’d help greet the guests. I didn’t mean anything else,” she said. She was quite the experienced manipulator. I crossed my arms and coldly watched her performance. “You’re not just greeting guests for me. Didn’t you consummate the marriage for me too?” I said. Lydia seemed very pleased with my reaction. A flash of smug triumph crossed her eyes before she quickly put on an expression of utter wronged innocence. “Miss Cora, you really misunderstand me,” she said. Slap! The little vixen was quite the actress, but I had no interest in playing along with her act.

“Cora, have you gone crazy?!” Phoenix panicked. He quickly pulled Lydia into his arms, holding her protectively. Lydia also seemed shocked that I would actually hit her. Her big eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over. She buried her face in Phoenix’s chest and rubbed it back and forth pitifully, finally managing to smear some tears onto his clothes. I don’t know if it was the heat of his mistress’s tears that set him off, but Phoenix looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive. “Cora, you’re nothing but a shrew! Look at yourself – how could you possibly compare to…” “Enough, Phoenix!” Mr. Brown cut him off mid-sentence, grabbing Phoenix’s arm. Mrs. Brown also reacted quickly, pulling Lydia out of Phoenix’s embrace. “Miss Ye, this is a family matter. It’s not appropriate for you to be involved. Please leave,” Mrs. Brown said firmly. Lydia glanced at Phoenix, then raised her chin defiantly at me. In the end, she left without another word, her high heels clicking loudly. But Phoenix wasn’t done. “Are you happy now, ruining our wedding day like this?! No man but me would marry a psycho like you!” he shouted. “Phoenix, be quiet!” Mrs. Brown hurried to intervene, moving to restrain Phoenix. But he shook her off roughly. “Mom, stay out of this. We’re not getting married today. I need to teach this woman a lesson,” he snarled. What a coincidence – I wanted to teach him a lesson too! I slammed my hand on the table and shouted back, “You’re right, we’re not getting married. But I’m the one who’s going to teach YOU a lesson!” I ignored everyone’s reactions and walked over to the officiant standing by the big screen. The poor man was so uncomfortable he didn’t know what to say. He instinctively stepped aside, blinking rapidly as he asked, “Miss… Miss Cora, what do you need?” I ignored him and went straight to the computer connected to the big screen. I logged into SnapChat, uploaded a video, and hit play. Suddenly Lydia’s smug face filled the entire screen. Her taunting voice echoed through the hall. “The groom is quite good too. I’ve tested him out for you as well.” “Where is Phoenix?” “Mr. Brown is working overtime, of course. He’s very busy.” “Lydia, come help me wash my back.” “You just want to trick me into showering with you, you naughty boy.” Even after Lydia’s triumphant face disappeared from the screen, the room remained deathly silent for several long seconds. Slap! “You worthless scum!” Mr. Brown put all his strength into that slap. Afterwards, he seemed to deflate, his shoulders sagging. My heart ached a bit too. I realized I wouldn’t be able to maintain my relationship with Phoenix’s parents after all. “Phoenix, the one who betrayed this marriage wasn’t me. It was you – the bastard who fooled around with his mistress in our marital bed!” I said coldly. “Do I need to spell out what those stains on the bed were? You sure know how to have fun!” I spat.

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My husband and I got married not too long ago, and right after, his parents started traveling extensively. Over the past two years, they’ve practically toured the entire country, spending their entire retirement pension each month. I’ve often suggested to my husband that he should encourage them to save some money for their future. However, he always responds with frustration, “Are you planning to live off my parents? Why do you keep worrying about their finances? As their children, it’s our responsibility to support them in their old age—otherwise, what’s the point of having children?” Despite my genuine concern for them, I was misunderstood. So, I stopped bringing it up. I thought it was fine as long as they didn’t impose financial burdens on us. But I was too naive. With their spending habits, how could their pension be sufficient? In the living room, my aunt placed a box of candies on the table and got straight to the point, “Charlie, your cousin is getting married this July, and I was wondering when your mom plans to return the seventy thousand she borrowed from me last year.” My husband and I were taken aback, filled with questions. He quickly asked, surprised, “Aunt, did my mom borrow money from you? I wasn’t aware.” My aunt waved her hand and explained, “Your mom asked me not to tell you when she borrowed money, saying she was short on cash and needed a few tens of thousands. It wasn’t just me; your uncle and another aunt also lent her money. I wouldn’t have pressed for repayment, but with your cousin’s wedding coming up, I need the money back. When I called your mom, she said she didn’t have it and told me to ask you.” My heart sank, and my expression turned grim. My in-laws receive a combined nine thousand in retirement pension monthly. It’s one thing to spend it all, but borrowing money as well? My husband sighed deeply, his face darkening, “Aunt, give me your bank account details. I’ll find a way to gather the money and transfer it to you in the next couple of days.” “Alright, I’ll send you the account info when I get home. I’ll be on my way now.” My aunt left smiling, relieved that my husband agreed to repay the money. I struggled to keep my anger in check as I awkwardly saw her out. Once the door closed, I was so upset that I clutched my churning stomach in distress. “Husband, what’s going on with your parents? How is their pension not enough, and why are they borrowing from everywhere? I told you they should be more frugal. Look at what’s happening now.” His expression was equally troubled, and he said irritably, “Alright, enough nagging. I’ll ask them later.” Annoyed, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and started smoking, then called his parents to come over. When it comes to his parents, my husband doesn’t let me say a word. Frustrated, I left to take care of our child. My in-laws have been self-centered their entire lives, never considering their children. When my husband and I got married, my family asked for a bride price of fifty thousand, which my husband saved from working. His parents didn’t contribute a cent, not even for the wedding expenses. They acted like hands-off managers. Later, when we bought a house, my husband put in all his savings and borrowed a bit from friends, managing to gather two hundred thousand. My parents also contributed two hundred thousand to help us. Initially, I thought of asking my mother-in-law for some help, which would ease our loan pressure. But she dismissed me, saying she had no money and that “no one should think about her retirement savings.” And now, this… I suddenly felt extremely stressed about our future. “Quick, Alex, make me some food; I’m starving,” my mother-in-law’s voice came from outside. As soon as I came out, she bossily asked me to make her food. I didn’t agree. My husband made tea for his parents and served it: “Mom, I called you over today to clarify something. Did you borrow money from Aunt and Uncle? Aunt came today saying you borrowed seventy thousand from her last year.” Hearing this, my father-in-law looked around guiltily without speaking. My mother-in-law paused for a few seconds, then said matter-of-factly, “Oh, I almost forgot. Yes, I borrowed seventy thousand from your aunt last year. I’m a bit tight on cash now; you should help me pay it back.” My husband asked incredulously, “Mom, how can two people’s monthly retirement pension not be enough?” Seeing him angry, she tried to change the topic, “What? I’m your mother, and I can’t spend some money? We have a retirement pension and never asked you for money before. You have no idea; my friend group, their sons give them money every month. Look at you!” My husband ignored her, and I couldn’t hold back: “Those parents also help their kids buy houses and cars! We don’t expect money from you, but at least don’t drag us down!” My mother-in-law dismissed my words, “I’m talking to my son. Why are you butting in? I didn’t ask you to pay.” “You…” I was about to argue when my husband grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, his eyes full of disapproval. Though angry with his parents, he disapproved of me, the daughter-in-law, arguing with them. I was also fired up and thought, “Fine, I won’t hold back either.” I pulled my hand away and sat down somewhere else. My husband rubbed his forehead in frustration, trying to keep his voice calm: “Just tell me, Mom, how much do you owe altogether?” My in-laws exchanged a glance. My husband stared at them intently. My mother-in-law hesitated, “About… about two hundred thousand.” “What? You owe that much? What are you doing with the money, spending or burning it? I told you to spend less every month. Two hundred thousand is my yearly salary. Do you think I’m immortal or something?” My husband stood up in anger, pointing at my in-laws. “Don’t be mad. Just help us pay it off, and we won’t spend recklessly anymore,” my mother-in-law said timidly, scared by my husband’s anger. “Pay it off? Where am I supposed to find the money? I still have to pay the mortgage and car loans every month,” he retorted, annoyed, and sat back down. The living room fell into a strange silence until my mother-in-law turned her attention to me: “Alex, didn’t your mom give you money when she babysat for you? She must have some cash. Why don’t you borrow from her?” When I was postpartum last year, I initially wanted my mother-in-law to help with the baby and offered her five thousand a month, but she was too busy traveling to agree. So I had no choice but to ask my mom. She refused to take money, and after much persuasion, she only accepted three thousand a month as a token, often buying things for me and the baby. That money supposedly went to my mom but ended up with us. Yet, she willingly took care of the baby. I clenched my fists, controlling my emotions: “Mom, I wanted to pay you for watching the baby, but you refused, so I asked my mom. She didn’t want to accept money, only taking three thousand symbolically. And with all the things she buys for the house, the money doesn’t even end up with her. How can you think of borrowing from her?” My mother-in-law wouldn’t listen, using her age to argue, “You talk a good game. Would you let your mom lose money? Who knows how much you gave her secretly? Besides, the baby is her grandchild too. Asking for money hurts the relationship.” When it’s not their problem, they don’t care. I sneered, “You’re noble! You talk about relationships! The baby is your grandchild too, shouldn’t you care without asking for money?” “You… you dare talk back to me, I’m still your mother-in-law. Son, control your wife, she’s disrespectful.” Flustered by my words, my mother-in-law changed the subject, feigning authority. “Alright, stop arguing. Mom and Dad, you can go back. I’ll figure something out,” my husband interrupted our quarrel impatiently. “Charlie, I knew you were a good son, so filial. Leave that money to you,” my mother-in-law cheered up, pleased, and complimented my husband before leaving with my father-in-law, leisurely. I sat quietly, blaming my husband. Our family isn’t well-off, and he just takes on more burdens. With the in-laws’ extravagant spending habits, they’ll just borrow again after we pay this off. When will it end? After thinking for a while, I couldn’t help but speak, “Husband, are you really planning to help your parents pay off this debt? What if they borrow more later?” He took a drag from his cigarette and replied dismissively, “What else can I do? They’re my parents. If I don’t help them, who will?” “Then you should pressure them a bit. Maybe have them save three thousand from their pension each month before spending the rest. It’s not a big burden and could help them develop a habit of saving, just in case,” I suggested, having thought about it for a while. After all, it’s not good for the elderly to have no money at all. “After all, my parents raised me, and I have a duty to support them. Since they have a pension, I haven’t given them money before. This time, helping with the debt is the least I can do. I’ll think about your idea and discuss it with my mom.” I finally spoke my mind about something that had been on my mind for a while. It’s not ideal for elderly parents to be without financial security. “After all, my parents raised me, and I have a responsibility to support them. Since they always had their retirement pension, I never actually gave them money. But this time, helping them pay off their debt is the right thing to do. I’ll consider what you said and discuss it with my mom.” My husband tends to take charge at home, and I’ve usually kept quiet about it. But this time, I couldn’t hold back: “You should discuss it with your mom. Even if we set aside three thousand dollars a month, the remaining six thousand should be enough for your parents. Otherwise, we’re under a lot of financial pressure, and paying back the debt won’t be quick.” My husband looked at me for a moment and sighed, then agreed to talk to his parents. I felt a bit relieved because my aunt urgently needed those seventy thousand dollars. My husband eventually used our savings to pay off his parents’ debt. Fortunately, after this, he followed my suggestion and helped his parents set aside three thousand dollars from their pension each month. Initially, my mother-in-law was unhappy, often complaining about the lack of money. But she eventually quieted down, and I thought she had come around. I was wrong. She and my father-in-law showed up with their luggage, ready to move in. “Charlie, your dad and I decided to stay with you for a while, and I can help with the baby. I don’t need much, just four thousand dollars a month.” I knew nothing came free with my in-laws. The baby was easier to care for now, and my job allowed me to be home often. My mother occasionally helped when I was busy. My mother-in-law’s offer to help with the baby was just a way to get paid. Seeing that my husband and I didn’t respond, she continued: “The baby is my grandchild too, and I miss him. They say there’s a special bond with grandchildren. Plus, if I come, I can help with housework, and Alex won’t be as busy.” Fearing my husband might agree, I quickly intervened: “Mom, the baby is easy to care for now; I can manage on my own. You and Dad are getting older, so it’s better to rest at home. Honestly, we can’t afford an extra four thousand dollars a month.” My words reminded my husband of our financial strain after helping with the debts. We didn’t have much savings left, and the mortgage and car loans were a significant burden. My husband hesitated: “Mom, I can’t give you four thousand dollars a month anymore. After helping with the debt, our expenses are tight. Besides what we spend on the baby, Alex and I hardly spend anything on ourselves.” Hearing her plan wasn’t working, my mother-in-law was displeased: “Son, can’t you spare even three thousand dollars? If not, three thousand is fine, but I won’t do housework for that, and you’ll have to cook for yourselves.” Seeing my husband at a loss, I joined in: “Maybe, Mom, you could handle the rest of the debt yourself? We really can’t provide extra money.” My mother-in-law was taken aback, and my husband seemed to be considering the feasibility of this idea. Worried about being saddled with the debt, my mother-in-law quickly backtracked: “No need, I don’t want the money. But, son, six thousand a month isn’t enough for us. Let us move in with you.” As soon as she said it, she and my father-in-law headed to the guest room with their luggage. Seeing my husband didn’t object, I angrily threw my things into his arms: “What are you thinking? Letting your parents move in is just causing trouble. I was managing the baby alone, and now I have to care for your parents too?” My husband tried to reason: “There’s no other way. My parents want to live with us. I can’t just turn them away; people would gossip.” I rolled my eyes: “Anyone can see your parents are staying because they can’t manage on their own, turning me into a maid for your family.” Hearing me criticize his parents, my husband became serious: “Enough. It’s natural for parents to rely on their children. Don’t worry, they’ll stay for a week, then I’ll send them back. I can’t send them away the same day they arrive with their luggage.” Though upset, I realized he had a point. Forcing them to leave today would make us look bad to the neighbors. “Remember what you said, okay? Send your parents back after a week.” I conceded. Once my in-laws moved in, it was as I feared. Because I didn’t agree to pay my mother-in-law, even though I was already overwhelmed, she refused to help. She waited for me to cook all meals and was picky about the food. She even joined the local dance club, spending her time dancing in the community while ignoring housework. Worse still, they were not tidy, leaving dirty clothes everywhere and not disposing of used bags properly. In just a few days, the house was a mess. I was exhausted, juggling housework, the baby, and two elderly parents, nearing a breaking point. After a week, I brought up sending them back home. “We’re not leaving. Your dad and I are comfortable here, eating and drinking well. Why go back? Are you daring to kick your mom out of your house?” As expected, my mother-in-law glared at my husband instead of me. My husband smiled awkwardly and served her food: “Of course not, Mom. My home is your home! Stay as long as you want.” My father-in-law chimed in while eating: “Charlie, you can’t forget your parents after getting married. We raised you, and now you don’t let us stay? People would talk.” They only thought of living with us after spending their money on travel. After a week, they barely looked at their grandson. I quickly explained: “Parents, it’s not that we don’t want you here, but I’m struggling to handle everything alone. Michael is busy and often works late. I have two days at school a week, and the rest of the time I’m with the baby. With no one to help, I barely have time to cook. With more people in the house, there’s even more housework, and I can’t manage.” My mother-in-law scoffed: “How can we be a burden? You managed before, and now you can’t with us here? You’re just upset I don’t help with the child. Wanting me to work for free? Dream on!”

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