Category: English

During the pandemic, my crush lost his job. After hanging up the phone, I rushed to his apartment complex that night. The power was out in his unit, and he was drinking alone in the dark living room. I hugged him tightly in the darkness and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll always be here for you!” That night, we crossed a line. The next morning, I snuggled up to my crush and called out his name affectionately: “Ethan.” A deep male voice breathed into my ear and asked, “Who’s Ethan?” My heart skipped a beat as I realized the voice sounded different! I opened my eyes to a face completely unlike Ethan’s. Frightened, I quickly covered myself with the blanket and exclaimed, “Who are you?!” He gave me a meaningful look, smiling like a mischievous devil, and asked while playing with my hair: “Last night, you snuck into my place while I was drunk, hugging and kissing me, and now you’re asking who I am, hmm?” I stared into those dangerous fox-like eyes, trying hard to control my emotions as I recalled everything that happened last night. During the peak of the pandemic, Ethan’s company had layoffs, and he lost his job. He lived in a high-risk area. To comfort him, I took a cab to his apartment complex that night. Even if it meant being quarantined together, I wanted to be there for him during this difficult time. When I reached his door, the power was out, and he was drinking alone in the dark. He hugged me tightly in the darkness. I thought my crush of seven years had finally reciprocated my feelings, so I boldly kissed him. He hesitated for a moment but didn’t pull away, so I assumed he had accepted me. Now that I think about it, did I get the wrong apartment number? “Who are you?” I asked again. Hearing this, the man suddenly flipped me over, pinning me beneath him. He bit my lip lightly and said, “Remember this: my name is Adrian.”

In a flash, my mind went blank, and I could only push him away. The soreness in my body reminded me of everything that had happened last night. I lifted the blanket, but remembering the man next to me, I quickly covered myself again. He lay there, half-exposed, and said with interest, “Don’t bother covering up. I’ve already seen everything.” Oh no, I had lost my precious first time to this devilishly handsome stranger! Heartbroken, I picked up my crumpled clothes from the floor. My blouse was left with only one button, clearly unwearable. He kindly offered, “Want to borrow something?” “You have women’s clothes?” I asked in return. He replied calmly, “No, but I can lend you a shirt.” I thought to myself, “…” How am I supposed to face Ethan later wearing another man’s clothes? “No need,” I declined. As I was about to get off the bed wrapped in the blanket to find my coat, I accidentally exposed him completely. My face turned red instantly. Seeing a man’s body for the first time made my heart race. I didn’t know whether to drop the blanket or pull it away. He good-naturedly handed me his outer shirt. After taking it, I threw off the blanket and hid in the bathroom.

As soon as I entered, just about to change clothes, he followed me in. I, barely covered, startled like a frightened bird, “What are you doing?!” He handed me my phone. Seeing it was Ethan calling, I snatched it from his hand, feeling guilty. Ethan’s hoarse voice came through the phone: “Where are you?” “I…” I glanced at the man who had politely closed the door, my expression complicated, not knowing how to respond. He seemed to lose patience: “Never mind, don’t come over.” “Why?” I asked. “I’ve got a bit of a cold. What if I infect you?” So he was concerned about me. My guilt instantly doubled. “Um… where exactly do you live? I think I got the wrong apartment number,” I said. “You came to my complex?” he asked. “Yeah,” I replied, blushing. There was silence on the phone for a moment, then he said in an extremely unnatural tone: “Why don’t you go back home? If you leave now, you can still make it!” I said worriedly, “How can I do that? You’re sick, I can’t leave you alone. What’s your apartment number? I’ll… I’ll go to the store first, then come find you.” After I finished speaking, Ethan became anxious too: “I’m fine, really. My uncle just got back from abroad, he can take care of me!” So the sickness was a lie, he just didn’t want to see me. Holding the phone, my head felt a bit heavy: “So, last night when you said you wanted to see me, that was…?” Seeing that I hadn’t hung up, he said somewhat exasperatedly: “Vivian, let’s just say I was drunk last night, I was talking nonsense… You really don’t need to come over!”

I hung up the phone, feeling dejected. I had pursued him for seven years. So I took time off work and came here despite everything, all because of some drunken nonsense? Well, he was right about one thing – I really didn’t need to go over there anymore. I washed my face to calm myself down, then tied the shirt I was wearing into a big bow at the waist. I put on my jeans and coat, carefully checked myself in the mirror, and found that nothing looked out of place from the outside. When I came out, the man was sitting on the sofa drinking coffee. He glanced at his phone and said casually: “Looks like someone was a bit presumptuous.” I rolled my eyes at him. Eavesdropping is eavesdropping, no need to act all proper. “Sorry, I got the wrong apartment. I’ll be going now.” He put down his phone and asked me: “Is my place a hotel? You come and go as you please?” I snapped back irritably: “What else do you want?” Should I stay and take responsibility? From the looks of his place, he seemed quite well-off, and he didn’t look like someone who couldn’t find a girlfriend. If he didn’t mind, I could make do. Right now, I had everything except a man and money. As we stood at an impasse in the living room, the doorbell broke the awkward atmosphere. I opened the door reflexively. A community worker came in and said that due to the pandemic, the entire building was being locked down, and they hoped we would cooperate with the quarantine. I agreed repeatedly, of course we wouldn’t cause trouble for others. Wait a minute, quarantine… that means I can’t leave, and I have to be quarantined here with this man for two weeks? I suddenly turned back to look at the man behind me, who had an amused expression, and asked stiffly: “So, what was it you wanted again?” This time, I was genuinely asking, not challenging. “Can you cook?” he asked. I nodded: “Yes!” When in Rome, do as the Romans do. I at least had that much sense. Besides, judging by his immaculate hands, he didn’t look like someone who could cook. Who knows if what he made would be edible? There were only the two of us here, so who else would cook?

After entering the kitchen, I washed my hands first, then skillfully opened the refrigerator, all in one smooth motion. The most common ingredients often only require the simplest cooking. A few minutes later, I placed two bowls of instant noodles on the dining table. When he smelled the aroma, he walked over with a look of disdain, “Is this what you eat for breakfast?” “What do you eat then?” I asked. Breakfast time is usually rushed, which working person would specially get up to cook nowadays? He stared at the two bowls of instant noodles and sighed: “Never mind, go sit on the sofa and watch some TV for a while.” So, I was banished from the kitchen area to the sofa zone. While watching TV, I kept sneaking glances at the kitchen. He complained my food wasn’t nutritious, so I wanted to see what delicious meal this pampered young master could whip up. As I was chatting with my roommate on my phone, I suddenly heard rapid footsteps coming from upstairs. My impression of the refined Ethan was shattered as he bounded down the stairs in a yellow pajamas, looking like a giant rubber duck with wings. “Uncle, I’m up!” he called out. I jolted up from the sofa, “E-Ethan?!” He looked at me in surprise, clearly not expecting to find me in his living room. “Vivian, why are you here?” he asked, bewildered.

“I…” I stared at Adrian, who was cooking in the kitchen, at a loss for words. Ethan came up to me and asked in a low voice: “Didn’t I tell you not to come?” Noticing his accusatory tone, I retorted: “Weren’t you supposed to have a cold?” Is this how someone with a cold acts? Just then, a deep male voice came from behind: “Ethan, is that what you’re calling yourself now?” I turned around to see Adrian placing two plates of toast and eggs on the table. This didn’t seem like his usual style, but his movements showed no signs of awkwardness. The way he set down the plates reminded me of my boss placing documents on my desk to assign tasks. At this moment, he had shed his earlier devilish demeanor and looked quite serious, very much like an elder questioning a child in the family. Sure enough, Ethan fidgeted in front of him and said: “Uncle… I’m all grown up now, it’s embarrassing to be called Ethan. My colleagues all call me Ian now!” Adrian snorted lightly: “No wonder your mom couldn’t find you at your company for half a month.” Ethan looked somewhat troubled. He introduced me to Adrian: “This is my uncle.” Then he explained to Adrian, “Her name is Vivian, um… my college classmate.” Anyone could hear the dismissive tone in his voice; he clearly wasn’t very welcoming of my sudden appearance. Just as I was wondering how to salvage the situation, Adrian nodded and inexplicably said: “Alright, let’s eat.” “Unc-” The word “uncle” got stuck in my throat. I didn’t know whether to say it or not, because at that moment, only one thought was running through my mind. Last night, while my crush was asleep, I had slept with his uncle downstairs???

Just as I was wondering what to say, I heard Ethan ask me: “Why are you still wearing your coat indoors? Aren’t you hot?” “I…” How could I take it off without him seeing that I was wearing his uncle’s shirt while we ate? I tried hard to come up with an excuse: “I’m… not hot. I like wearing thick clothes.” As if! Ethan glanced at the air conditioner suspiciously: “But it’s 77 degrees in here. Are you really not hot?” I replied: “It’s fine.” Mom, I can now lie with a straight face. At this point, I thought I heard Adrian snicker. My cheeks instantly felt like they were on fire. I pretended to go wash my hands to escape further questioning. I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom for a while, feeling like the inside and outside of the bathroom were two different worlds. The thought of the two men outside made me feel like I was sitting on pins and needles. If we stayed together like this, something was bound to go wrong. If only I could talk to the community workers and ask them to quarantine me somewhere else. Just as this thought crossed my mind, I heard someone knocking on the door outside. I turned my head and asked, “Who is it?” “Come out,” came Adrian’s calm voice. Had he come to hurry me to eat so quickly? I said nervously, “What for?” “To wash my hands.” “…” I had no choice but to turn the doorknob. I was immediately met with a handsome face. My heart started racing as I looked into his fox-like eyes that seemed to be smiling yet not. I just wanted to quickly get away, so I stumbled out, bumping into the doorframe. There were only two breakfast plates on the table. Ethan asked me, “Can you cook?” Feeling guilty, I nodded obediently: “Yes, what would you like?” I can look it up online and try to make it. At this point, Adrian had finished washing his hands and came out. He directly pushed his plate in front of me and said: “You eat mine.” Ethan looked at us oddly. Adrian had already pulled the other plate of breakfast towards himself and said calmly: “If you want to eat, go make it yourself in the kitchen.” Ethan immediately pouted in disappointment: “Uncle, I don’t know how to make breakfast. How about…” Adrian: “There are two more cups of instant noodles here. You can take those.” Ethan glanced at the two cups of instant noodles forgotten in the corner with a look of reluctant acceptance. He grudgingly picked up both cups, muttering: “It’s so embarrassing to eat this for breakfast.”

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After Edward’s undercover work ended, it felt like he had become a different person. He would often stare blankly out of the window, with sadness and melancholy in his eyes. He no longer lifted our daughter up and twirled her around, calling her “baby.” He stopped bringing flowers home after work, and he even avoided my affectionate gestures. Later, on the day our daughter Doris was hit by a car, I saw him tenderly kissing another woman in the rain. I was in a meeting when I received the news about Doris’s accident. When I heard the words “died on the spot,” I froze. I rushed to the funeral home like a madwoman, finding Doris’s contorted body lying on a cold table. The yellow dress I personally put on her that morning became her burial clothing. Chaos surrounded me—some people tried to console me, others were interrogating, and the truck driver was hurriedly explaining, “It was your daughter who ran the red light. It’s not my fault!” I collapsed to the ground, desperately yelling, “How could she run a red light? Where is her father? Where is her father?” “Mrs. Jane, your daughter was alone when she got off the bus. We didn’t see any accompanying adult,” a police officer told me. I had always taken Doris to her piano lessons, but this one time, she asked for her daddy to take her. Ever since Edward came back from his year-long assignment, his attitude towards us had become cold and distant. He liked to be alone, avoided eye contact with me, often made excuses to sit in the car and smoke, and even got irritated with Doris’s playful requests. Our beloved daughter couldn’t understand why her dad had changed. Innocently, she just wanted to mend their relationship. I agreed, sending the two of them off before heading to my meeting. I never imagined that this one time would cost Doris her life. I called Edward repeatedly, only to be met with busy signals. My own parents were far away, and with my mother-in-law gravely ill, I was left to face this devastating blow alone. Finally, under my signature, Doris was reduced to a small box of ashes. Holding her ashes, I walked back to the neighborhood like a zombie, only to find Edward. He was in the rain, gently lifting the face of another woman and kissing her deeply. The woman was petite, nestled softly in Edward’s arms. They kissed for so long that even I, as an onlooker, had not noticed. Doris’s tragic demise flashed through my mind, juxtaposed with the scene before me. It was almost laughable. At this moment, I didn’t know whether to feel anger or sorrow. I didn’t even have the energy to question or rage; I just stood there, empty-headed. I should have seen it coming. Given Edward’s unique job, I had always known I’d have to manage the household independently when I married him. For seven years, I worked during the day and tended to my ailing mother-in-law at night. I single-handedly set up our new home, carrying tiles up six flights of stairs to save a few hundred dollars. When I got pregnant, I fainted from vomiting in the bathroom and lay there for seven or eight hours before anyone discovered me. I attended prenatal appointments alone, feeling out of place among couples. My water broke in the middle of the night, but I took a cab to the hospital by myself and signed the necessary papers alone. When I was sad, he wasn’t there. When I was happy, he still wasn’t. I was like a lone ranger; many asked where my husband was, but due to confidentiality, I would brush them off, making me seem like a pitiful widow.

I always believed my sacrifices were worth it because he loved his job, and I loved him. We had happy times too. When he wasn’t busy, he’d travel two hours just to get a cake for me. He’d come home with a bouquet of roses, stay up all night to care for the newborn Doris, change diapers, feed her, and do household chores. He loved holding my face, pressing his forehead against mine, and saying, “Jane, thank you. Without you, we wouldn’t have this family. I will always love you.” Then he went on that year-long assignment. I didn’t know what he was doing, but once, I ran into him selling seafood at a market. I pretended we were strangers and walked past him. After that, we had no contact for a year. When he returned, he was like a different person. He could go the whole day without speaking a word and showed no concern for our household. It was like a stranger sleeping next to me. I tried to mend our relationship, but Edward found excuses to avoid me. He eventually looked at me with a strange expression and sarcastically said, “I never realized before how much you crave intimacy.” Now, I finally understood our problem. I stood there for a long time before the woman noticed me. She seemed flustered, pushing Edward away and nervously shrinking into his arms. Edward’s face showed a rare hint of panic. He instinctively shielded the woman before quickly calming down and said, “Jane, she’s innocent. Don’t take your anger out on her. I’ll come home and explain.” “No need.” I coldly looked at the man I once loved deeply and asked, “I asked you to take Doris to her piano lesson. Where did you go?” “I got a work call and couldn’t leave. I watched her get on the bus. It was only a couple of blocks after getting off. She’s four; she knows the way.” Edward explained. Grief made me double over, barely able to stand. Tears mixed with rainwater streamed down my face. Doris was only four years old. He let a four-year-old girl take a half-hour bus ride alone and then walk another kilometer to her lesson. He knew better than anyone how dangerous the world could be, yet he neglected his own daughter. “Is this ‘work’ you mentioned just making out with her?” I raised my voice, pointing at the girl in his arms. She looked young, possibly still in college, and she bit her lip nervously, trembling. Edward instinctively comforted her before looking at me with impatience. “Jane, stop scaring her. Try to understand the demands of my job, you used to be reasonable…” I couldn’t hold it in any longer and slapped him hard. The girl screamed and reached out to touch Edward’s cheek, her face full of concern. “We’re getting a divorce.” With that, I walked away without looking back. Two hours later, Edward came back. Seeing that I had packed up most of the house, he frowned deeply. “I’m exhausted. Can you stop acting like a child throwing a tantrum?” “You think this is a tantrum?” I was too tired to argue, just staring coldly at him.

“Edward, do you even care about this family? If you did, Doris wouldn’t have…” “Michelle started out as just a friend,” Edward interrupted me roughly. He was silent for a long time before slowly beginning to talk about the other woman. “This past year, she’s been there for me, doing everything for me.” As he spoke, his expression softened. Edward described Michelle as a foolish girl who knew he had a family but still loved him steadfastly. He said she had a hero complex and had risked her life to save him several times. He said she was carefree, liked to wear short skirts, and frequently had wardrobe malfunctions, but she would complain that he was too controlling. He talked about their countless nights huddled together for warmth, holding hands and leaning against each other, feeling like he was ten years younger. In the end, he said, “I know our relationship has gone beyond friendship. Give me time, and I’ll forget her and live properly with you.” Edward closed his eyes, looking pained. “She’s young and naive, but I can’t be. I’ve already wasted a year of her life. I can’t keep holding her back.” I could barely breathe. Edward knew what he was saying. He was telling his wife about his romance with another woman. It felt like I was the third party, forcing him to abandon his true love for family duty. Edward remembered her sacrifices for him, but what about mine? Did my seven years of love and dedication mean nothing? After a long pause, I regained my composure. “I’ll give you freedom instead.” I grabbed my suitcase and pushed past him, heading downstairs. Edward grabbed my hand, his eyes pleading. “Jane, I promise, today was my last meeting with her. I still love you. I want to give Doris a complete family…” “Don’t mention Doris!” I lost control, hurling my bag at him. Sharp decorations cut his face and neck, causing blood to flow. He stood there, stunned. I didn’t look back and left. I rented an apartment near my office, contacted a lawyer, and started packing up, arranging my daughter’s funeral. While I was busy, the hospital called. “Jane, your mother-in-law Alice has taken a turn for the worse. Please come quickly…” I grabbed my bag and rushed out. Alice had terminal cancer. After marrying Edward, I had taken it upon myself to care for her. I did everything except bear the pain of her illness. Over seven years, I spent at least four nights a week at the hospital. Only these past few days, overwhelmed by Doris’s situation, did I forget about Alice in the hospital. Rushing in, I didn’t expect to find Michelle chatting happily with Alice. She wasn’t wearing the short skirts Edward mentioned but was dressed modestly in long sleeves and pants, looking clean and respectable. Anyone would find her likable. Alice and Michelle seemed very close, talking like mother and daughter. “Alice…” I croaked. Alice quickly waved me over to introduce me. “Jane, this is Edward’s coworker’s sister. Did he mention her?” Michelle looked nervous when she saw me, standing up from her chair. She stammered, “We’ve met…” Not responding, I watched Michelle’s eyes redden as she lowered her head and ran out, bumping into Edward coming in. She seemed relieved, grabbing his sleeve and hiding behind him, looking at me. Edward held a medical report, frowning at me. “Jane, you can be mad at me, but my mom did nothing to you. Is this how you’ve been taking care of her?” He threw the report at me, words like “critical condition” and “organ failure” glaring back at me. Before I could respond, Alice shouted, “Shut up!” “If not for Jane, I’d have died in the hospital long ago. You, who I barely see twice a year, have no right to say anything about Jane!”

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At graduation, I finally mustered up the courage to confess to my crush. But, as fate would have it, I got hit by a car. When I woke up, my crush stood right in front of me, staring at me coldly. “You’re awake? Great, let’s discuss the divorce agreement.” Me: ??? I haven’t even confessed yet! How did this turn into a divorce? At my graduation ceremony, I finally summoned the courage to confess to Zachary Warren, my long-time crush. On the other side of the crosswalk, Zach was standing there, looking sharp in his graduation gown, taking photos. I got so excited that I dashed toward him, completely missing the fact that the light was red. There was a loud crash. I was hit by a car, and everything went black. The next time I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the blinding white ceiling. And there he was. Zach, standing by my hospital bed. Still as handsome as ever. This might be the first time we’ve been this close. Zach was looking up at the IV drip, but his gaze slowly shifted to my face. I accidentally noticed the ring on his left hand. I’ve had a crush on him for so long. So, he’s already taken? Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I forced a smile and greeted him, “Zach, what are you doing here?” As I tried to sit up, I noticed that my arm was wrapped in thick bandages. The next second, Zach sat on the chair beside my bed, his voice cold and distant. “Jennifer, you’ve really mastered the art of manipulation. Risking your life just to push for a divorce?” I stared at Zach, completely confused. What is he talking about? Divorce? I haven’t even graduated yet, let alone gotten married. Where is this divorce thing coming from? Just then, a nurse came into the room, holding a tray for bandaging wounds. “Dr. Williams, you’re still here? Miss Niles, you don’t realize how lucky you are. You were hit by a car, but thankfully Dr. Williams happened to be nearby. He gave you emergency care right away. Otherwise, it wouldn’t just be a broken arm you’re dealing with.” The nurse bent down and carefully disinfected my wound. After she rested my hand on the side of the bed, I noticed… I was also wearing a ring on my right hand! And it matched Zach’s ring. A couple’s ring! A wave of fear and uncertainty washed over me. After the nurse left, I grabbed Zach’s sleeve in a panic. “Zach, you graduated from NYU Medical School in 2018, right?” He frowned, clearly annoyed. He shook my hand off and looked at me coldly. “Since you’re awake, let’s go over the divorce agreement.”

This is absolutely ridiculous! I was on my way to graduation, got hit by a car, and now I’m being accused of “faking an accident” to force a divorce from Zach? Either I’ve lost my mind, or Zach has. “Wait, Zach!” Before I could finish, a little kid suddenly ran into the room, jumping right into Zach’s arms. Me: ??? Wow, this kid is so adorable. I reached out with my good arm to pinch his cheek, but he immediately hid behind Zach, clearly scared. “Sorry, little guy. You’re just too cute. I couldn’t help myself.” Zach shot me a disapproving look. It suddenly hit me that I hadn’t even gotten to the main point. “Zach, this might sound crazy, but I don’t remember anything you’re talking about. All I recall is being on my way to the graduation ceremony…” Before I could finish, Zach cut me off impatiently. “So, you’re telling me you’ve lost your memory?” Amnesia? Yes, that must be it. Amnesia is the only explanation for why I don’t remember any of this. I nodded sincerely. Zach’s icy expression didn’t soften. He pulled a document from his bag and tossed it onto my lap. “This is the divorce agreement. The terms are exactly as you requested. If you have no objections, just sign it.” I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. The little boy in Zach’s arms looked sad, his lips trembling. “Zach, shouldn’t we avoid discussing such topics in front of a child? It’s not good for his emotional well-being.” “How considerate of you, Jennifer,” Zach sneered. “That’s our child.” … “And yet, when you were having dinner with another man, did you ever think about how that might affect his emotional well-being?” I hadn’t even processed his first sentence when the second one hit me like a ton of bricks. I stared at the little boy in disbelief. So, I didn’t just get married—I have a child too? But the little guy paid no attention to me. He buried his face in Zach’s neck, refusing to even look my way. Too much information. My brain couldn’t handle it. I was officially out of commission.

It took me a whole day to wrap my head around everything. It seems I really did lose my memory. I’m still me, and Zach is still Zach. The only difference is—we’re married, and we have a kid. But that divorce agreement sitting on the bed speaks volumes: there’s clearly a problem with our marriage. The problem is… did I cheat? No way, right? Why would I cheat on Zach? He’s good-looking and smart. I must’ve been crazy. So, what went wrong? How can I get my memory back? I scratched my head, completely frustrated. “Mommy.” A tiny voice came from the door. I looked up to see a small face peeking through the slightly open door. “Daddy said you need to disinfect your hand. Here’s the iodine. He said you should do it yourself.” The little boy held a bottle tightly in his tiny hands. I gestured for him to come closer. “Mommy’s hand hurts. Can you bring it over for me?” The boy hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded and shuffled over to the bed, placing the iodine on the bedside table. I pulled him onto my lap and studied his features. His eyes were big and round like mine, his nose straight like Zach’s, and his face… a perfect combination of both of us. This was our son. I couldn’t resist hugging him tight and planting a big kiss on his cheek. He smelled so sweet and innocent—absolutely irresistible. When I looked up, his face was bright red. He froze for a moment before wrapping his little arms around my neck and hugging me back tightly. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Mommy, you smell nice.” This little guy is the sweetest thing ever. As I basked in the joy of my son’s affection, the door opened again. Zach entered, his familiar presence filling the room. “Daddy!” The little boy immediately ran to Zach and held his arms out, waiting for him to pick him up. Zach had just showered, wearing casual loungewear, looking effortlessly sexy and relaxed. His hair was still slightly damp, with droplets running down his neck and disappearing into his collar. I swallowed. This man was dangerously attractive. As he came closer, my heart started racing. But then Zach’s words shattered my moment of bliss. “Jennifer, don’t you think it’s a little late to start being a good mom to Cooper?” “I… I didn’t mean to…” I tried to explain, but the look on Zach’s face told me he wouldn’t believe a word I said. So, I stayed silent. “Whatever. Do what you need to do. I’m heading out.” As I left the study, Cooper peeked out from Zach’s neck and gave me a glance. Watching the two of them so close, a wave of sadness washed over me. What good are a husband and child if my husband doesn’t love me? Even my son seems closer to him. I started questioning everything. Why did we get married in the first place? Why did we have a child? Outside, the full moon hung high in the sky. The night breeze blew through the balcony, scattering my emotions. Nothing has changed. Except for me.

The master bedroom had only one large bed. The entire room was decorated in a minimalist black, white, and gray palette. Apart from that, it was immaculately tidy, with a light scent of gardenias floating in the air. I recognized it instantly—it was my favorite fragrance. I headed to the walk-in closet, looking for my pajamas. But all I saw was a row of black clothes. And they were all men’s clothing. … I had no choice but to knock on the door of Zach’s study. “Zach… I mean, honey, sorry to bother you.” Zach looked up from his laptop, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. His whole demeanor was both tempting and distant. “Do you know where my pajamas are? I looked through the closet in the master bedroom but couldn’t find them.” Zach stared at me for a few seconds without saying a word. Just as I was about to give up and leave, he suddenly stood up and walked toward me. He towered over me, standing at six foot one while I barely reached five foot five. I felt like a child standing in front of him. Zach smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets. “So, are you planning to carry on with this amnesia act?” I gulped, unsure of what to say. The truth was, even if I told him the truth, he wouldn’t believe me. Thankfully, he didn’t make things difficult this time. He walked past me, heading toward another part of the house. I stood there, confused and not sure what to do next. He glanced back at me from the corner of his eye. “Well? Aren’t you coming?” I immediately followed him, keeping a safe distance. “Thanks.” Two minutes later, I eagerly opened the closet door in the guest bedroom to grab my pajamas. But the moment I saw what was inside, I slammed the door shut, my face flushed with embarrassment. Oh my God! “This is…” I didn’t even finish my sentence, but I knew Zach understood. He stood by the door, arms crossed, silently watching me with a look that said, “Keep going, I’m just here to watch the show.” … Taking a deep breath, I slowly reopened the closet door. Inside were outfits so revealing, they looked like they belonged on a nightclub dancer. Tiny scraps of fabric—there was hardly anything to cover up with! Was this how I dressed after graduation… I mean, after I got married? Had my style become this… provocative? To make things worse, Zach didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving. I ignored his piercing gaze and continued searching through the clothes. But I couldn’t find anything even remotely “normal.” … I sighed inwardly and, for some reason, turned to Zach and asked, “Honey, which one do you like seeing me in?” His eyes immediately darkened, and without a word, he turned and walked out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and the sound made me jump. Why did he get mad? They say women are hard to understand, but men are even more of a mystery. I grabbed some pajamas and headed to the bathroom. A wild thought crossed my mind: could our impending divorce have something to do with… issues in the bedroom? After my shower, I wrapped myself in a robe and headed to Cooper’s room. The nursery was cozy, and it was clear Zach had put a lot of thought into it. Everything was designed with care. I tiptoed over to his bed. Cooper was fast asleep, clutching a little stuffed animal. I gently tucked the blanket around him and wiped his thumb, which he had been sucking on. For the first time, I felt a real connection to being a mother. But I still didn’t know how old he was. I looked over at our marriage certificate. It was dated four years ago. That meant Cooper must be around three. I ruffled his hair and quietly left the room. Just as I closed the door, I turned around and saw Zach standing right in front of me. We were so close that if I looked up, I could bump into his chin. My back pressed against the door, and Zach didn’t seem to realize—or care—that he was invading my personal space. My heart raced so fast, I thought it might leap out of my chest any second. “Are you done?” “Yeah.” The air was thick with awkwardness. I had no idea what to say next. “So… are you going to bed now?” Zach didn’t respond or make a move. I tightened the robe around me, making sure he couldn’t see the revealing pajamas underneath. “Okay, I’ll go to sleep first, then.” I stepped aside and practically bolted to the master bedroom. Without a second thought, I jumped into bed, pulled the covers over me, and lay still. Moments later, the bedroom door opened, and Zach walked in. He paused when he saw me lying in bed, seeming a little surprised. He stood there, just staring at me. His gaze made my scalp tingle. “Honey, which side do you usually sleep on?” No answer. Has Zach always been this strange? He’s so quiet, always just staring coldly, without saying a word. Frustrated, I got out of bed and stood by the side. “You pick first.” Zach finally moved. He walked to the other side, lay down, and shut off the bedside lamp with a loud click. … Now we were in total darkness. Great. Thankfully, I don’t have night blindness, or I’d really be angry right now! I fumbled in the dark, trying to get comfortable under the covers, but I couldn’t sleep. My mind was a chaotic mess, and to make matters worse, my arm, which was still sore from the accident, started to hurt again because of the way my robe was pressing against it. I shifted slightly, but Zach didn’t react, so I sat up and tried to remove my robe. As I finally managed to shrug it off, rubbing my sore arm, Zach suddenly opened his eyes. Before I could react, he rolled over and pinned me beneath him. I gasped, my breathing instantly becoming erratic. In the dark, I couldn’t see him clearly, but I could feel how close he was—so close that our breaths were mingling. “Jenny, what are you doing?” Zach asked, his voice low. “What do you mean?” “You wanted to get married, you went through so much trouble to get a divorce, and now you’re lying next to me, trying to seduce me. Jennifer, I don’t have time for your games. What do you want?” “Seduce you?” I stared at him, completely stunned, when suddenly I felt a chill across my chest. Looking down, I realized that my pajamas were way more revealing than I thought. No wonder Zach thought I was trying to seduce him. “I… I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” I reached for the robe I had tossed onto the floor, but Zach had already had enough. He got up from the bed, clearly done with the conversation. “Jennifer, I don’t care what you’re thinking. I don’t have any feelings for you anymore. I hope you understand that. Whether you’re faking amnesia or trying to seduce me, it doesn’t matter to me.” “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight. Do whatever you want.” Zach left. And now, I was alone in this big room, with nothing but my sadness.

I couldn’t sleep. I just lay there, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling until dawn. Around 7 a.m., I heard Zach’s voice outside, speaking to a woman who kept saying “okay, okay.” It was probably the nanny, I guessed. A little while later, the front door closed, and I heard the sound of the car engine starting. Zach had gone to work. I stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling while my mind raced. I’ve never been an outgoing person—if I were, I wouldn’t have been crushing on Zach for so many years without saying a word. But now, not only had my crush succeeded, but I had also become his wife. Along with the shock, there was a sense of joy I couldn’t suppress. I thought this was my one big chance from fate, but it turns out I played my cards terribly in this marriage. Emotional intelligence really is my weakness. As I was lost in thought, the bedroom door suddenly opened. A woman in a nanny uniform walked in. The moment she saw me, she apologized repeatedly. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think anyone was in here.” “It’s fine, I was just about to get up.” I smiled at her, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she slowly walked into the room. “Mr. Warren left for work. I assumed no one was here since you usually slept in your own room.” My own room? Suddenly, memories from the day before came rushing back. There was definitely a bed in that other room where I grabbed my clothes. So, I had been sleeping in a different room all this time? Does that mean Zach and I had been living separately? It all made sense now—Zach’s strange behavior yesterday. Oh no, this is embarrassing. I buried my face in my hands, and a flood of regret washed over me. Hearing our conversation, Cooper came running to the bedroom door, his bare feet thumping against the floor. He stood there looking at me with big, expectant eyes, but didn’t dare come in. “Cooper, come to mommy.” I gently called to him, holding out my arms. The little guy’s face lit up with excitement. He sprinted across the room and jumped into my arms, knocking me onto the bed. He flashed a big smile, his tiny teeth showing. “Mommy,” he said, nuzzling his head against my chest. My heart melted. No matter how much Zach might hate me right now, Cooper is still my baby. I would always love him. After saying goodbye to the nanny, I took Cooper out for some quality time together. We went shopping. I bought him a bunch of cute clothes and treated myself to some more “normal” outfits. Honestly, the clothes I wore after getting married were a bit… much. Holding Cooper in my arms, I watched as he happily ate his ice cream, his face smudged with cream. I gently wiped his mouth. “Cooper, what was Mommy like before?” Cooper pouted, his voice soft with a hint of sadness. “You didn’t like Cooper.” Then he added, “You were always so mean.” Kids don’t lie. Hearing this broke my heart. So, I really had changed that much, to the point where even I wouldn’t recognize myself? Then why did Zach marry me? Was it out of love? If so, he sure had an interesting taste. “Mommy, I want that!” Sitting in my lap, Cooper pointed at a McDonald’s poster advertising the latest family meal. Well, kids will be kids—can’t resist the temptation. Me: “Let’s buy it!” An hour later, Cooper and I sat side by side on the couch in Zach’s office, looking like two children who had just been caught misbehaving.

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Before my A-Levels, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer—because I was starving. When I told my mum, she thought I was lying and cut my allowance even more. She said that when she was my age, she only had £60 a month, and here I was, getting £100. I should consider myself lucky. She wanted me to learn the virtue of thrift. Later, she and my dad went on holiday and left me with no money. I ended up starving to death. She held my body, crying uncontrollably. “Mum, why are you crying?” “Now that I’m dead, you won’t have to spend any more money on me. Isn’t that something to be happy about?” After finishing my check-up at St. Thomas’ Hospital, I went home with the late-stage stomach cancer diagnosis in my hand. As soon as I walked in, my mum was on her phone. She glanced at me and said, “Starting next month, your allowance will go from £300 to £100.” I froze, the test result still in my hand, thinking about how to give it to her. She continued, “You’ve got it so good now. When I was your age, I had £60 a month. £100 is more than enough for you.” I bit my lip gently, hesitated, and then said, “Mum… it’s not really enough. Could you give me a bit more? I’m… sick.” I slowly pulled the diagnosis out of my pocket and handed it to her, still hoping that despite everything, she was my mother and would care. But in the next second, she knocked the paper out of my hand. “Since when did you learn to lie like this? When I didn’t lower your allowance, you were fine. The moment I cut it, you suddenly have all these problems?” Her voice was sharp, her eyes filled with anger, as if I was her worst enemy. Timidly, I stepped forward and mumbled, “Mum, I’m not lying…” But she only got angrier, pointing at me and shouting, “Oh, now you’re talking back, are you? You ungrateful little pest!” She grabbed a feather duster from the sofa and hit me with it. At that moment, my dad, who was outside hanging up the laundry, came over, pushing me gently towards my room. He smiled at her and said, “Come on, love, no need to hit her…” “She’s gone rotten! All I wanted was for her to learn the value of money, and now she’s lying about being ill! I just watched a video—some student made millions in their first year at uni, supporting their family. Why should I still have to support her?” “She’s such a burden—always sulking. It would be better if she were dead…” I closed my bedroom door quietly, my heart being sliced to pieces by each word. Maybe it would be better if I were dead… It wasn’t the first time I’d heard her say that. But it hurt every single time. Mum, do you really wish I were dead? When I die, I’m sure you’ll be happy. The doctor said I wouldn’t live more than three months. By then, I’m sure you’ll be relieved. But Chloe doesn’t want to give up…

Since my monthly allowance had been cut to £100, after buying my school supplies, even if I only ate bread and pickles, I still couldn’t make ends meet. With A-Levels coming up, I had very little time. I only had Sunday afternoons off, so I spent that time handing out flyers. The boss, Mr. Cooper, knew about my situation and gave me a slight raise. I worked one day a week, and I earned £100, paid on the spot. One day, after a long day of distributing flyers, I came home, and the first thing my mum did was glare at me. “I’m missing £100 from my purse. Did you take it?” I was confused, and before I could say anything, she stormed over and pulled my bag from me. She rummaged through it and only found some loose change, but she wasn’t satisfied. She started searching my pockets. Finally, she found £100 in my jeans. Her eyes burned into me like a demon from hell. “Who told you to steal from me?” she hissed through clenched teeth. I was terrified. Every time she looked at me like that, I knew there would be punishment. My legs started trembling, and my voice shook as I stammered, “I didn’t… I didn’t…” “That’s the money I earned from my part-time job. I didn’t steal it.” But she didn’t believe me. She slapped me and yelled, “You’ve been lying to me your whole life! Didn’t I raise you better than this?” “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think you can fool me with these lies? Today, I’ll teach you a lesson and show you who’s in charge!” She pulled the charging cable from the plug, grabbed my hair, and dragged me to the floor. Then, she whipped my leg with the cable. It hurt so much. But my heart was numb. From primary school until now, her “military discipline” had gone from confusing me, breaking my heart, and making me rebel, to leaving me completely numb. She had perfected her methods of “education.” The charging cable was her favourite because it hurt but didn’t leave lasting marks, unlike sticks or coat hangers. She also knew how to pinch me in the most painful spots without leaving a bruise, tie elastic bands around my arm so tightly that my hand would go numb, and wrap a towel around a stick so it would hurt but leave no visible wounds. It’s laughable, isn’t it? All of these were things my own mother tested on her daughter. Her only daughter… Right then, the pain in my stomach flared up again, twisting and turning like something was tearing it apart. I started to wish that I could just die during one of these “lessons.” At least then, the pain would stop.

All the money I earned was taken by my mum. Now, I had less than £10 to my name. To stretch it out, I decided to only eat one piece of bread every three days. But I’d overestimated how long I could last with stomach cancer. By the first morning, I fainted while running during PE. Ms. Thompson carried me to the nurse’s office, and after a quick check, the nurse said I’d collapsed from low blood sugar. A classmate, who had come along with the teacher, explained my situation to her. Ms. Thompson was shocked when she heard about how my mum treated me. It wasn’t unusual for students to faint from exhaustion and stress in school, but given my situation, she felt she had to call my mum. When my mum heard what had happened, she was reluctant to come, but Ms. Thompson insisted. When she arrived, she found the teacher encouraging me to eat the food she’d bought for me. My mum, furious, slapped me in front of everyone. “You liar! You said you’d fainted! Here you are, looking perfectly fine. Why didn’t you just die?” Ms. Thompson, stunned by the sudden slap, froze in shock. After a moment, she spoke up, standing between us. “Why would you say something like that? Can’t you talk without being so cruel?” But my mum continued to rant, accusing me of being deceitful, saying I’d manipulated everyone for money. Then she glanced at Ms. Thompson and sneered, “First she couldn’t trick me, and now she’s got you fooled, hasn’t she? Or are you just trying to seduce her?” The teacher slammed the table in anger. “Madam, I’m Chloe’s form tutor,” she said firmly. By now, the whole canteen had turned to look at us. Embarrassed, my mum’s expression softened, and she mumbled, “Sorry, I didn’t know you were her teacher.” “She’s just such a troublemaker. I’ve only been trying to teach her to save money, and now she’s lying to me, stealing from me, and pretending to faint because she hasn’t eaten…” Ms. Thompson, her face pale with shock, interrupted her mid-sentence. “She’s not lying. Chloe fainted from low blood sugar, and I called you.” She went on, “I’ve heard from her classmates that all Chloe eats at school is bread and pickles. Sometimes, she only has one meal a day because you won’t give her any more money.” My mum, caught off-guard, stammered, “But I do give her money. I give her £100 a month! When I was her age, I got £60, and she gets £40 more than I ever did.”

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In the dead of night, I was jolted awake by a loud snoring sound. I was alone in my flat—how could there be a man snoring? Suddenly, I remembered a film where a man was hiding under a woman’s bed… I immediately picked up my phone to call Tom, but my best friend Rachel texted me just then: “Don’t trust your boyfriend; he’s going to kill you!” At midnight, I was awoken by the sound of snoring. Groggy and half-asleep, I instinctively thought it was Tom, but then I remembered we had just had an argument and he hadn’t come to see me tonight. I sat up in shock. The snoring stopped abruptly. I quickly turned on the light. I lived in a single room flat of about twenty square meters, and it was clear there was no one else in sight. Could I have been dreaming just now? But the snoring had been so vivid and real. At this point, I hadn’t thought much about it and assumed it was just my stress from work causing hallucinations. I went to the bathroom and then back to bed. I didn’t turn off the light; after all, that snoring had been far too real, and I felt a bit scared. The light gave me a semblance of comfort. But just as I lay down, the snoring began again. This time, it was so clear, it felt as if it was right next to me! I was truly terrified; my heart skipped a beat. I sat up again, and the snoring disappeared once more. I sat there, dumbfounded. Then I remembered the film about a man hiding under a woman’s bed… If that snoring was real and so close, then the person making that sound had to be in the room! If I couldn’t see them, they must be… hiding under the bed! I grabbed my phone to call the police. But what if the snoring was just a figment of my imagination? How would I explain that to the police when they arrived? I glanced around the room and found only a pair of scissors for protection, so I picked them up and opened the door, ready to flee at any moment. In the end, I grabbed a clothes pole and reached under the bed, sweeping left and right. The clothes pole didn’t touch anything. I finally breathed a sigh of relief, summoning the courage to lift the bed sheet that touched the floor. Under the bed was nothing but a thick layer of dust. Only then did I feel reassured and let out a long sigh. It seemed it had indeed been my imagination. I closed the door and lay back down, trying to sleep; the snoring didn’t return. But just as I was about to doze off, my smart speaker suddenly chimed: “Game on, please answer the question. Is she virtual?” What was happening? Had I mumbled in my sleep? Or was it malfunctioning? So I shouted, “Smart speaker, shut up!” It seemed to malfunction and didn’t receive my command; instead, it continued: “Is she female?” The smart speaker was right by my bedside, and I grabbed it to try to turn it off, but no matter how I pressed the buttons, it wouldn’t respond. “Is she from a Japanese anime?” “Is she from a novel?” … This was definitely not a hallucination, nor was it a dream! Then I recalled the snoring, and a chilling conclusion hit me—there was something unclean in this room! For the first time in my life, I felt such intense fear! Run! That was the only thought in my mind! I didn’t even have time to put on shoes, wrapped in my pajamas, I bolted out of the flat. I lived on the 25th floor, and the lift was still on the 1st floor. I thought about taking the stairs, but the corridor was too dark, and I was too scared to go. I wanted to call the police, but how could I explain this to them? In the end, I trembled as I took out my phone to call Rachel. But she hung up immediately and soon replied with a text: “What’s wrong?” I figured she might not be able to take the call, so I replied that I was encountering a ghost and needed her to come save me. As I typed, my hands shook, and I wasn’t sure how many typos I made in that simple sentence. But I knew she would understand. Just then, the lift arrived, and I hurried in, pressing the door close button. As soon as the doors closed, they opened again. But the corridor was empty; there was nothing there.

The lift doors closed again, and it began to descend normally, with no more anomalies. When it reached the 18th floor, the doors opened again, and still, no one was there. What was more terrifying was that the doors stayed open for a long time; I pressed the button frantically, but to no avail. The only reason the doors wouldn’t close was that someone was still trying to get in! I felt tears prick at my eyes, hesitating to escape the lift, when suddenly the doors shut. On the 16th floor, the doors opened. Finally, I saw someone. It was a middle-aged woman, dressed in red and green, looking very flamboyant, as if she were going to meet a lover. I was sure she was human. I felt like I had grasped a lifeline and quickly stepped aside, hoping to ask her for help once she entered. But she frowned at the lift, mumbling to herself, “Why are there so many people at this hour?” She took a couple of steps back. “I’m the only one in here!” I trembled as I told her. But it seemed she didn’t hear me; until the lift doors closed again, she never got on. I finally realized—this lift was full of ghosts! My back instantly went cold, and I hurriedly pressed the button for the 9th floor; I had to get out of here! I pressed myself against the side of the lift, keeping a wary eye on my surroundings. 9th floor. As soon as the doors opened, I dashed out. That was when I noticed a fat man waiting by the door. Seeing the lift doors open, the fat man stepped inside. “Don’t go in!” I shouted, “There are ghosts in there!” The fat man hesitated, looked back at me, but ultimately ignored my warning and entered the lift. Suddenly, a loud beeping sound echoed in the lift. I knew that sound only occurred when it was overloaded! There was only the fat man inside; even at his heaviest, he couldn’t be over 300 pounds—how could it be overloaded? With a confused look, he exited the lift, mumbling, “What a strange experience.” Finally encountering a living person gave me some sense of security, so I hurriedly approached him and said, “Mate, I—” “Blimey!” the fat man exclaimed, not waiting for me to finish before he turned and ran back to his flat in sheer panic. I immediately chased after him. Even though I didn’t know him, I believed he was the only person who could alleviate my fear at that moment. Besides, I always felt an inexplicable trust towards fat people, as if I thought all of them were good people. But that fat man dashed into his flat and slammed the door shut. I banged on the door, yelling “Help me,” hoping he would come out, but the door remained firmly closed. Just then, my phone suddenly rang. I quickly checked; it was Rachel texting me. “It’s too late; I can’t come alone. What about your boyfriend?” Despair washed over me as I sat on the floor. I understood why she wouldn’t come, and given I mentioned a ghost, she probably thought I was joking. Then I remembered my boyfriend, Tom. We were in a cold war, but we hadn’t officially broken up. In such a dangerous and terrifying situation, I couldn’t afford to let my pride keep me from reaching out to him first. I dialed his number, but he hung up. I was furious and scared! How could he still be angry at a time like this? I quickly sent him a text: “Tom, come save me!” He finally called back, anxious and asking what was wrong. “Tom, please come quickly! I’m so scared!” Tom reassured me, “Don’t be afraid; there’s no such thing as ghosts; it’s all in your head. I’ll be there soon; find somewhere safe to hide.” I asked, “How long will it take?” “About an hour; I’m quite far away.” “An hour?” I stammered, “I’ll be scared to death in an hour!” “Then I’ll call the police right now; just wait.” The call ended. Tom’s voice vanished, and I fell into panic again. Wait a minute! Why did Tom just say, “There’s no such thing as ghosts”? I had never mentioned to him that I was encountering a ghost! Could it be that he was pulling a prank on me to get revenge?

He had a background in computer science, and I heard he once hacked into some pretty serious websites. I thought with his skills, making the smart speaker malfunction or causing the lift to break down wouldn’t be an issue. With that thought, remembering how scared I had been, my anger flared up. Just then, Tom called again. Once I picked up, I exploded, “Are you out of your mind? It was just an argument! Do you really need to scare me like this?” I could imagine Tom on the other end of the line, laughing uncontrollably, which only made me angrier. But Tom sounded bewildered. “What’s wrong? How did I upset you?” “Was it you who messed with the smart speaker and the lift?” “What do you mean? Wait, calm down; the police will be there in ten minutes,” Tom said, sounding a bit exasperated. He actually called the police? If he was just trying to scare me, he wouldn’t have done that. I hung up with doubts and dialed 999 to verify what he said. “Hello, this is 999 emergency services…” “Hello!” I interrupted, “Did you receive an emergency call about something happening at the Oasis estate?” “Yes, I took that call; we are already on our way. The caller stated that a female resident in flat 2503 was in danger.” That female resident was me! “Yes, that’s me! Please hurry!” “We are on our way; we’ll be there within ten minutes. Please stay on the line, find somewhere safe to hide, and contact us if you’re in danger.” He actually called the police! Which meant I was truly in danger! But the police wouldn’t arrive for another ten minutes—where could I hide? I had given up hope on the fat man and banged on the door across from me, but got no response. Maybe there was no one living there. I had to try another floor. I thought about taking the stairs, but the corridor was pitch black, and the lift offered some sense of safety. So, I bravely pressed the lift button. The doors opened, and there was no one inside. I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and stepped into the lift. I only dared to open my eyes after I heard the doors close behind me. Nothing seemed amiss in the lift. I relaxed a bit, hesitating, before pressing the button for the ground floor. The security office by the entrance seemed like the safest place! As I stepped out, the estate was eerily quiet and dim, with only scattered lights that barely illuminated the path ahead. I made my way toward the estate’s entrance. I was almost convinced I had encountered a ghost, but as I walked out and down, I hadn’t been harmed. Perhaps the ghosts in my flat and the lift were harmless. With that thought, my fear lessened somewhat. When fear stopped overwhelming me, I remembered something else. How did Tom know I was encountering a ghost? I had only told Rachel about it; if Tom knew, it could only mean they were together! What were they doing alone together in the dead of night? No wonder they weren’t answering my calls! No wonder Tom got angry and left when I said a few trivial things yesterday! My phone rang again—it was Tom calling. “How are you? Are you okay?” he asked with concern. I didn’t respond and instead asked, “How did you know I was encountering a ghost?” Tom paused for a second before saying, “Because… because Rachel’s phone card is with me; she’s been dead for two months.”

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Simon and I had been together for ten years, and we were finally getting married. But after we moved in together, his cat always seemed to hate me. Simon brushed it off, telling me I was reading too much into it. “It’s just a cat,” he said. But then, one night in the study, I saw something that shattered that illusion. I clearly saw his cat transform into a young woman, tangled in his embrace. In a soft voice, she whispered, “I don’t like your girlfriend. Do you really have to marry her?” I stood frozen at the doorway, feeling dizzy. Not because of the pair entwined in front of me, but because flashes of memories and visions overwhelmed me. The past, the present, and even the future. In those swirling images, I saw my entire life unfold. It turns out I’m just the villainess in a sugary romance novel. The novel is called I Became a Cat and Stole My Crush’s Heart. In the story, the heroine, Mia Yates, secretly loves the male lead, Simon Shaw. She thought they were destined to never be together—until a car accident changes everything. Mia wakes up, only to find she’s turned into a cat. Simon, unaware of her true identity, adopts her, and Mia becomes his treasured pet. One day, she mysteriously returns to her human form—in Simon’s bed. From that moment on, their story unfolds with stolen glances and hearts racing. As for me? I’m the villain, Simon’s malicious fiancée. I’m supposed to compete with a cat for his affection. Out of jealousy, I even plan to throw acid on Mia’s face, only for Simon to stop me just in time. In the end, I get my comeuppance and spend the rest of my life regretting my actions behind prison bars. Simon and I are about to get married, which is why we’ve moved in together. But ever since I arrived, Mia the cat has made her hostility toward me abundantly clear. Every time Simon and I are in the same room, she screeches at the top of her lungs or knocks things over to steal his attention. She never lets me near her. Every time I try to pet her, she scratches me. I thought she was just being defensive, like any cat might be with a stranger. I figured she’d get used to me eventually. But now, I finally understand. She’s no ordinary cat; she’s a woman pretending to be one. Certain things are cute when a cat does them. But when it’s a human? It’s far from charming.

The next morning. I sat at the breakfast table, watching Mia nestled beside Simon. He carefully cut his breakfast into small pieces and fed her bit by bit. How did I never see it before? I took a sip of milk and casually said, “Simon, don’t you think it’s time Mia was spayed? She’s always so agitated—getting her spayed might calm her down.” As soon as I said that, Mia’s fur bristled in outrage. She hissed at me, then quickly retreated into Simon’s arms, meowing pitifully. Sure enough, Simon stroked her back gently to comfort her before looking at me with irritation. “I don’t want to put her through that kind of surgery. It’s not right to take away her right to have kittens.” I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So, you want Mia to have kittens? Maybe I can help by finding her a tomcat or two.” At that, Mia’s cries grew even louder. Simon’s face darkened. “Bella, why do you have to be so cruel to her? She’s just a cat! Can’t you see she’s just not used to you yet?” Just a cat? He’s been telling me that for ages, using it as an excuse whenever Mia acts out. But he knows perfectly well that Mia is no ordinary cat. He knows her every action is designed to push me out. Yet he still clings to his comforting delusion. I didn’t bother arguing with him. After breakfast, I drove to Mia Yates’ old house. Mia wasn’t always a cat. She used to be just a regular university student. She fell in love with Simon when he taught a few lectures at her university. But after she turned into a cat, the human body she later gained was beautiful—innocently alluring. Whose body was this? Could a ‘miracle’ like this only happen to Mia? These thoughts consumed me as I drove around her neighbourhood, asking about her. Sure enough, those who are hateful often have a tragic backstory. Her mother, I learned, never cared much for her. She favoured Mia’s brother and constantly pressured her to find a wealthy husband, one who could provide a dowry to buy her brother a house. Mia’s attraction to Simon? Well, that had a lot to do with his money. I smirked. Rich, is he? What if Simon lost everything? Would Mia still care for him then? On my way home, I stopped by The Bark & Purr Pet Shop. As soon as I walked in, a brown blur came bounding toward me. “Max!” Max, my beloved Labrador. I had to send him away because Mia hated him. Simon made me rehome him. Of course, I never actually gave him away. I’d just been keeping him at the pet shop, hoping Mia might accept him one day. Now? I couldn’t care less what Mia thinks. I knelt down and stroked Max’s head. “Max, I’m so sorry. I’ll never leave you again.” He seemed to understand, nuzzling into my hand. I hugged him tighter, relieved.

When I brought Max back, Simon predictably lost his temper. “Why did you bring that dog here? You know Mia is terrified of him!” I held Max close, not even looking at Simon. “You have Mia. I need Max with me.” He snapped without thinking. “How can that dog compare to Mia?” Anger flared up inside me. “So your precious cat gets to stay, but my dog gets kicked out?!” He stood there, speechless, before storming off with Mia, slamming the door behind him. “You’re impossible, Bella.” For the first time in our relationship, we had a real argument. It wasn’t that we never disagreed before. I’d just always been the one to compromise, to make concessions for him. But now? I didn’t mind this feeling. For once, I was standing up for myself. That night, Simon didn’t come home. And I didn’t care. Max and I slept soundly. The next morning, I made breakfast for both of us. Afterwards, I got ready for work. The Oxford Research Institute was always busy, and I had taken time off to plan our wedding. Well, there wouldn’t be a wedding anymore.

When I arrived at the institute, I could tell people were surprised. “Bella, you’re back! Weren’t you on leave for wedding prep?” “Yeah, where’s Simon?” Everyone knew about our relationship. We were both researchers at the institute. I made small talk and brushed off their questions. There was plenty of work piled up, and before I knew it, the morning flew by in a blur. Just as I finished, Jessica grabbed me for lunch. “Bella, I’ve got so much gossip saved up! No one else around here cares about celebrity news—they’re all too busy staring at data all day. I need to spill the tea!” Jessica, with her bubbly personality, was a rare exception in our research-focused environment. I smiled. “I’m all ears. I need a break from science talk.” She hugged me. “You’re the best, Bella!” But we didn’t get far before someone interrupted us. “Bella, there’s an urgent meeting. You need to come right away.” The person’s serious tone left no room for delay, so I hurried back to the conference room. Dr. Knight was furious when I arrived. “Who’s responsible for this project? How did such a massive data error go unnoticed?” The room was tense, and several people cast nervous glances my way before someone spoke up. “Uh… it’s Simon’s project, Dr. Knight.” I knew why they were all looking at me. Simon wasn’t qualified for the position he held. The institute had only promoted him to keep me on board. And over the years, he’d been rising through the ranks quickly—thanks to me. Dr. Knight was still fuming. “Where is he? I’ve told everyone repeatedly that this experiment needs constant supervision, especially at such a critical stage. Where was he yesterday?!” Mistakes like this usually led to demotions. Someone tried to make excuses. “Maybe he’s just been overwhelmed with the wedding plans.” “Isn’t Bella the one who took time off for the wedding? So why is she here, and Simon’s nowhere to be found?” “He’s got connections. That’s why he can get away with anything.” “Wish I had that kind of backup. Mess up this badly and still keep your job.” I listened to the murmurs of discontent, knowing full well the resentment Simon had caused by coasting on my reputation. I stood up and faced them. “If Simon’s responsible for this error, then he should be demoted as per the rules.” The room fell silent. Dr. Knight stared at me, surprised. In the past, I’d always covered for Simon, fixing his mistakes. But not anymore. The meeting ended, and as the others filed out, Dr. Knight pulled me aside. She looked at me thoughtfully. “Bella, you’ve been here for years. Your talent and dedication are the best I’ve ever seen. I’ve always worried that these personal matters were holding you back.” I nodded and smiled, reassuring her. “I understand, Dr. Knight. Don’t worry.” I took over Simon’s project. That afternoon, while I was working on the experiment, Dr. Knight’s words echoed in my mind. She had said, “I hope you keep moving forward, Bella. Your path shouldn’t end here. You’re meant to lead humanity to the next level.” My blood surged with excitement at the thought. By the time I left the institute, night had already fallen. But I wasn’t tired at all. In fact, I felt energized, surrounded by the work I loved. 4 When I got home, Max came bounding over to greet me. I patted his head, but my attention was drawn to Simon, who was sitting in the living room with a stormy expression on his face. “Why was I demoted? Did you have something to do with this?” he demanded. I felt a pang of sadness. Was this really the man I had spent over a decade with? I stayed calm. “Your project had a major issue, Simon. It’s only natural that it was handled according to the rules.” But he still didn’t believe me. “I ran those numbers multiple times—they were flawless. Dr. Knight has had it out for me for ages. I bet she had someone tamper with the data!” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Simon, when are you going to stop blaming everyone else for your mistakes? When will you finally learn to take responsibility?” He stared at me in shock before a sudden realisation seemed to hit him. “Oh, I see how it is,” he sneered. “This was all about you taking over my project, wasn’t it? You wanted me out of the way so you could get ahead.” His words struck me like a slap to the face. I looked at him, my voice breaking. “Is that really what you think? After everything we’ve been through for the past ten years?” “I…” Simon faltered, reaching out as if to wipe the tears from my eyes. But at that moment, a sharp hiss pierced the air. We both turned to see Max cornering Mia, growling low and threatening. It looked like any second he would tear her apart. Simon rushed over, pushing Max aside. “Get away from her!” He scooped Mia into his arms and turned back to me. “Bella, I’m willing to forget everything that happened today, but I’m warning you—keep your dog away from Mia. I won’t ask again.” Without waiting for a response, he stormed into the study, slamming the door behind him. I slid down the wall in defeat, feeling completely drained. Max nuzzled me, his head resting on my lap. Simon never used to be like this.

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My older sister Crystal has a savior complex. She thought our housekeeper was pitiful and wanted me to become her daughter instead. I enthusiastically agreed and went with her that very day to handle the paperwork. Whoever she felt sorry for, she could go be their daughter herself. In this life, she took my place being sold to the countryside and becoming a plaything. “Our housekeeper Mrs. Johnson is so pitiful. Her daughter isn’t even by her side. Why don’t you change your surname and become her daughter?” my older sister Crystal said. I wasn’t surprised at all to hear this from her. Instead, I clapped my hands in agreement. “Sister, you’re such a good person!” That same day, I went with her to handle the relevant paperwork. However, the one who ended up changing surnames wasn’t me, but my sister Crystal. I had secretly swapped the documents, and she didn’t notice at all. After all, she was used to me obeying her every word. When we got home, she started ordering the servants around. “Oh, and starting today, set one less place at the table.” “You’re right, sister. Since you’re no longer part of our family, you really shouldn’t be eating at the same table as me,” I said nonchalantly as I sat down in the main seat and started eating. “Ruby, what nonsense are you talking about? You’re the one who’s supposed to become the housekeeper’s daughter,” Crystal said, glaring at me with a sour expression. “Oh? Sister, did you misunderstand something?” I asked calmly, not even bothering to look at her as I took out the agreement from my bag and tossed it to her. Crystal picked up the agreement and only had to glance at it for a few seconds before her eyes widened in shock. “Ruby, you little bitch! How dare you trick me!” “From now on, we’re changing the rules in this house. I eat at the table, while the housekeeper doesn’t. You can only eat my leftovers. Got it?” I said, looking down at her from my seat. “Ruby, have you gone mad? How dare you talk to me like this? Do you have a death wish? I’m your sister!” Crystal shouted angrily. I took out two identification booklets. “Look carefully. Your registration is no longer in the same booklet as mine. You’re just our housekeeper’s daughter now. If you keep talking back, I might just throw you out.” Crystal has always had a savior complex, feeling pity for everyone she saw. But every time she made a sacrifice, it was always at my expense. When we were little, she saw a beggar on the street and thought he looked lonely and pitiful. So she left me there to be the beggar’s daughter. If our parents hadn’t found me in time, I would have been sold off to some far-off place. In school, she felt sorry for the school bullies because they didn’t have parents around. She hung out with them every day and even brought them home. I was just a child then, and they used me as their punching bag. I nearly lost my life. As she grew older, it only got worse. She sympathized with our housekeeper who had only been with us for two months. “Mrs. Johnson is so pitiful. Her daughter isn’t even by her side. You should go be her daughter.” In my previous life, after I refused, she secretly changed my surname behind my back and forcibly sent me to be the housekeeper’s daughter. She told our parents I was just away on a study trip. In the end, she conspired with outsiders to steal all the money from our family. She even poisoned our parents, causing them both to die from the toxins. She even had me kidnapped and taken to the countryside, where she gave me to the housekeeper’s brother as a wife. I was locked in a cellar for three years, enduring inhuman torture every day. After multiple failed escape attempts, I chose to bite off my own tongue and end my life. When I woke up again, it was to Crystal saying: “Sister, why don’t you go be the housekeeper’s daughter?” This time, I clapped my hands in agreement and took the initiative. I absolutely wouldn’t let her have any opportunity to act against me. I pushed her towards the door. “Mom and Dad will be so proud of you. Don’t worry.” “Crystal, oh, I should call you Jenna Johnson now. If you’re not happy with this, why don’t you go find your housekeeper mom and have her take you back to the countryside?” I said with a cold smile. Crystal stomped her foot and walked away. “Ruby, just you wait. I’ll make you pay for this.” So Crystal went to our parents’ company to plead her case. My heart tightened. In my previous life, Crystal had caused our parents to fall gravely ill. Even with their dying breaths, they were still trying to persuade her to face reality. In this life, I was sure our parents would continue to indulge her. But the result was beyond my expectations. Crystal hadn’t even seen our parents before she was kicked out by the security at the front desk. “The CEO said he only has one daughter named Ruby. We’re not to let anyone else see them,” the guard said. I was overjoyed and rushed to find my parents. The moment I saw them, I couldn’t hold back my tears. “Mom, Dad, I’ve missed you so much.” The three of us embraced, and they said, “Ruby, don’t worry. In this life, we’ll definitely protect you properly.” I looked up at them. As I had guessed, my parents had also been reborn. It was a relief. I had been worrying about how to persuade my parents to see through Crystal’s true nature. Now it was settled – the three of us would get our revenge on Crystal together. She thought she had the biggest heart for others? Well, I’d let her be a good person all the way. She could go take care of Mrs. Johnson’s family in the countryside.

Over the next few days, I found fault with everything Mrs. Johnson did at home. I climbed up a ladder to the top of a cabinet, wiped it with my hand, and showed her the dust. “How do you do your job? You can’t even clean a cabinet properly. Maybe you should just pack your bags and get out.” Mrs. Johnson’s legs trembled in fear. Crystal came to support her. “Ruby, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you see how hard Mrs. Johnson’s life is? She’s already so unfortunate, why are you making things difficult for her?” “Oh, is that so? Then why don’t you clean it instead? It’s not strange for a daughter to help her mother, right?” I said indifferently. If I hadn’t lived through another life, I wouldn’t be so harsh on Mrs. Johnson. But now I knew she wasn’t a good person either. She took a high salary from our family, but not only did she slack off and not do her work properly, she also ordered others around. After she left her job in my previous life, she even slandered our family online. She even encouraged Crystal to sell me to their hometown to be her brother’s daughter-in-law. For someone like her, I wanted to tear her to pieces. “It’s okay, I don’t mind working harder. I have a big family to support at home,” Mrs. Johnson said, wiping away her tears. Crystal became even angrier. “Ruby, you’re going too far. We won’t put up with your attitude anymore.” She stepped forward, about to slap me, but I pushed her away first. Crystal was furious. She helped Mrs. Johnson up and said, “Mrs. Johnson, let’s go. We won’t stay here any longer!” “We just renewed Mrs. Johnson’s contract recently. If you leave now, you’ll have to pay a penalty fee,” I said gleefully. “You… Fine, I’ll pay the penalty fee if that’s what it takes,” Crystal said. With those words, I immediately had people pack up Mrs. Johnson’s belongings and throw them out. Why weren’t there any of Crystal’s belongings? Because everything she owned belonged to our family. She couldn’t take a single thing with her. She still clung to her designer bags, refusing to let go. “These are all mine. Why can’t I take them with me?” I went over with a dark expression. “Miss Johnson, have you forgotten? When you bought these things, your surname was Huang. But now, your surname is Johnson.” Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, Crystal tried to appeal to my emotions. “Sister, don’t you remember? I’m your older sister. I watched you grow up. How can you be so heartless to me? Even if my surname is Johnson now, I’m still your sister.” I shook off her hand. “Sister? You mean the sister who gave away my things for free to a bunch of good-for-nothings from childhood to adulthood?” “Or the sister who falsely accused me of stealing?” Once, there was a thief at school who stole many things. To protect her friend, Crystal publicly accused me of being the thief in front of everyone. She even hid her belongings in my schoolbag. I was isolated and insulted by everyone. It wasn’t until later that I found out the real thief was Crystal’s classmate. To protect her, Crystal had lied and said I was the thief. “How can you be so petty? That was so long ago. I just felt sorry for them. You should have some compassion too,” Crystal said, rolling her eyes disdainfully. “Yes, you have the biggest heart. No one’s heart is bigger than yours. So now, please leave,” I said, pointing to the open door. “You… Mom and Dad would never allow you to kick me out. Stop putting on an act,” Crystal said, crossing her arms confidently. The next moment, our parents walked in. “Your mother is that housekeeper outside. Don’t call the wrong person.” Crystal’s eyes widened. “Mom, Dad, how can you be like this too? Didn’t you always teach me to be kind to others?” “We taught you to be kind, but we never taught you to help bad people. Don’t try to pin this on us,” our father said sternly. “What good people or bad people? You’re just prejudiced against them. They’re more pitiful than anyone else. If you won’t help them, I will!” Crystal said angrily as she pushed past our mother and walked out. Crystal took Mrs. Johnson’s hand affectionately and said, “Mom, let’s go. From now on, I’ll be your real daughter.” Mrs. Johnson smiled at her, but for some reason, it sent chills down my spine. I sent a lawyer to claim compensation from Mrs. Johnson for breaching the contract. Crystal probably emptied out all her savings. She sent me a message: [Ruby, just you wait.]

Sure enough, a few days later, Mrs. Johnson posted a video online claiming that we had abused her, treated her as less than human, and humiliated her. When she worked as our housekeeper, she had earned quite a bit of money and gained many followers by bragging about working in a mansion. Now, all her followers began to speak up for her. “Just because you’re rich, you think you’re better than everyone else?” “What’s wrong with a housekeeper working honestly? Why look down on her?” In this life, Mrs. Johnson directly exposed photos of our family and our home address. Many angry people came to throw rotten eggs at our front door. “My dear sister, are you scared now? This is just the first step,” Crystal called me as soon as she saw the online comments. It was clear that she had been the one to suggest this idea to Mrs. Johnson. “Heh, sister, don’t end up outsmarting yourself,” I replied. After waiting for the comments to reach a certain number that evening, I began my counterattack. I registered a new account called “Exposing Housekeeper Johnson’s True Face”. It contained footage from security cameras, recording various scenes of Mrs. Johnson working at our house. She used instant meal kits instead of cooking properly, picked up food that had been licked by dogs and continued to use it, and touched food with her hands right after scratching her bottom. Every detail was enough to make one lose their appetite. The videos she posted online were nothing more than staged performances. And this was just the first step. The tone of the netizens’ comments clearly changed. “Oh my god, I wouldn’t even dare to buy such dirty food from a street vendor.” I then released another video showing how Mrs. Johnson, relying on Crystal’s favoritism, deliberately oppressed the other housekeepers. When we weren’t home, she acted like the mistress of the house, verbally abusing the other housekeepers, bossing them around, and taking credit for their work. “Pah, a lousy housekeeper dares to eat the same food as me? Know your place,” Mrs. Johnson said in the video. This thoroughly angered the netizens.

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Liam was my husband. We had been married for five years, and our love was as strong as ever. Until I received an anonymous video: a man’s head was bashed in, his face a bloody mess, with several stab wounds on his body. If it weren’t for the custom-made diamond ring on his ring finger, even I wouldn’t have recognized Liam. At this moment, I was lying with my back to “Liam”, desperately trying to stifle any sound. Who, then, was sleeping beside me? “Nora, why aren’t you asleep? Is the wound hurting again?” The gradually dimming phone screen reflected Liam’s expressionless face. He stared at the phone, his neck craned at an awkward angle. I stiffened but quickly turned to hug him, whispering, “It’s nothing. I’m just feeling a bit upset about the baby.” Liam and I had been married for five years. My mother-in-law, Martha, had been urging us to have a child. I had helped Liam start his business from scratch, but the constant drinking and late nights at social events had taken a toll on my health. For the past two years, I had been trying to recover my health, and finally got pregnant. But just two months ago, the doctor told me that the baby’s heartbeat was extremely unstable. They diagnosed it as a genetic defect syndrome. Giving birth would not only be irresponsible to the child but also pose a huge risk to my safety. The doctor recommended termination. And just like that, my first baby left this world. Liam reached out and stroked my face. His expression was hidden in the darkness, unreadable. His fingers were ice-cold, sending a shiver of fear through me as they traced my skin. “Honey, did you forget to take your medicine today? You know Mom specially got it prescribed by the doctor.” Liam and I both loved children dearly, and losing the baby had left me with depression. I had quit my job to rest at home. Liam’s voice was so gentle it could almost wring water. He got up to heat some milk for me. Watching his back, my thoughts lingered on the terrifying sensation of Liam’s fingers on my face. Remembering the gruesome scene in the video, my body involuntarily shuddered, causing me to drop my phone. As I bent down to retrieve it, I suddenly caught a whiff of a very subtle formaldehyde smell. The screen’s light illuminated my horrified face. There was a dead infant under the bed. It was curled up, preserved in formaldehyde solution, its pale face turned towards me. Suddenly, its tightly closed eyes opened, staring straight into mine. Then its mouth twisted into an eerie smile. My whole body trembled, goosebumps erupting on my arms. Overwhelmed by fear, I felt my body go limp. In my panic, I turned around only to see Liam standing at the door with a glass of milk, smiling at me.

When I regained consciousness, it was already noon the next day. “Nora, you’re finally awake. Are you feeling any discomfort?” Liam sat by my bedside, looking at me with concern. Ignoring him, I immediately got out of bed and pulled out the jar from underneath. The glass had shattered, but instead of the dead infant I saw last night, it was a small figure wrapped in bloody bandages! “Impossible, I clearly saw… it even smiled at me…” I panicked and stumbled backwards, only to be caught in Liam’s embrace. “Oh no, who broke the jar?!” An elderly woman rushed in, first complaining, then wailing as she cradled the jar. “My poor grandson, can’t even rest in peace after death…” “Mom, what’s going on? Who told you to put this thing under our bed?!” Liam scolded his mother while gently comforting me. I stared blankly at her wrinkled face, only connecting her to my mother-in-law when Liam spoke. My condition seemed to have worsened recently. My memories of everyone were just blurry fragments, even their faces seemed covered in a layer of sand, impossible to recall clearly. “The house is haunted, so I found a spiritual healer,” she said. “We can’t let it interfere with my grandson’s birth!” She had been looking down, speaking hesitantly at first. But then she glanced at me, her tone turning disdainful and louder, as if intentionally speaking for me to hear. “Alright, Mom, that’s enough. Don’t upset Nora,” Liam urged his mother to leave, his tone annoyed. “What I saw last night wasn’t a small figure…” I said, my fear growing. No matter how I tried to explain, Liam insisted I had just had a nightmare. “Honey, where’s my phone?” I suddenly remembered the video, wanting to show it as proof. But Liam’s expression turned strange. He unlocked his phone and held it up to me. “You mean this video?” ! “How did you know?” I felt scared, backing away step by step. Liam sighed, “You’ve watched this video many times already. Every day you suspect that I might be dead.” “I know losing the baby was a huge blow to you. You’ve developed depression and prosopagnosia.” “But this is just a video. I’m standing right here, alive and unharmed.” I stared intently at the ring on Liam’s finger, suddenly deflating. Perhaps I really was too stressed out. “I’ll be here to help you get better, trust me, okay?” “We’ll definitely have our own child someday.” Liam’s last sentence sounded like comfort, but I detected something odd in it. He kissed my forehead and walked towards the door. “Nora, I’m going to buy your favorite roast duck.” I watched him leave, trying to recall last night’s events. To my horror, I realized that my memories were all fragmented, and even Liam’s face was starting to blur. “Nora, come on, it’s time for your medicine.” Martha appeared at the door with a cup of medicine just as Liam left. “Am I taking the medicine this early today?” I looked at the time, feeling confused. After all the strange occurrences, I didn’t want to take the medicine, even if Liam said it would help my condition. But Martha just stood there holding the cup, staring at me intently. She looked very eager. “Mom, you can leave it here. I’ll drink it in a bit.” Martha reluctantly put down the cup and left, repeatedly reminding me not to waste it. I stared at the dark brown liquid, a thought flashing through my mind. Why had my symptoms gotten worse after taking this medicine for so long? Could there be something wrong with the medicine? As I picked up the cup, debating whether to drink it or not, I caught a glimpse of something in the full-length mirror by the wardrobe. The door was slightly ajar, and Martha’s pale face was pressed against the crack, expressionlessly staring at me.

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My husband, Gregory, cheated on me with his cousin, Tina. After she had his child, he immediately filed for divorce. On the day the divorce waiting period ended, I sent him a medical report congratulating him on becoming a dad. Upon receiving the report, he completely broke down. “Samantha, explain to me what’s going on!” I replied, “Do I really need to tell you that you have a fertility issue and can’t have kids?” I met my husband, Gregory Hill, during a college club event. He fell head over heels for me and quickly began pursuing me. Eventually, I was moved by his sincerity and passion, so I agreed to be with him. Over the four years of college, we developed a deep bond and promised to marry after graduation, but my parents didn’t approve. After all, I was an only child from a wealthy family in a big city, well-loved and spoiled. Gregory, on the other hand, came from Appalachia. He didn’t have a comfortable upbringing or strong connections; he worked hard to earn his way to college in the city. To marry him, I was willing to clash with my parents and even threatened to cut ties with them. Eventually, my parents relented, fearing I’d struggle without their support. They agreed to the marriage and gave me a house and a car as a wedding gift. Gregory was ambitious and capable. He started his own business right after graduation, but faced numerous obstacles in the early days. His small company was on the brink of collapse due to a lack of stable funding. Seeing that his business was about to fail, I made the decisive choice to sell the house my parents had given me to provide him with startup capital. We moved into a cramped, damp one-bedroom apartment. For me, this hardship was nothing; I was just happy to be with Gregory. Gradually, his business began to improve, and we moved into a newly bought house. We lived a simple yet happy life for two years, but Gregory and I had been unable to conceive a child. It was strange; ever since his company stabilized, we hadn’t intentionally avoided pregnancy. We thought if I became pregnant, we’d just have the baby since we could financially support it now. However, I still hadn’t gotten pregnant, so I decided that Gregory and I should go get checked out. His company was growing, and he was so busy managing everything that it took a while for him to carve out time to accompany me to the doctor. After the checkup, Gregory rushed back to work, leaving me to wait for the results. When the results came in, I was utterly stunned. I was in good health, but Gregory had a fertility issue. Sitting alone on a hospital bench, I felt dizzy and didn’t know how to face this reality. This explained why we hadn’t been able to conceive in two years of marriage. But Gregory was very prideful, and I feared that learning the truth would devastate him. Moreover, my parents already disapproved of our marriage; if they knew Gregory couldn’t have kids, they would surely pressure me to divorce him. So, I planned to keep this a secret. If it came to it, we could always adopt later. That evening, when Gregory got home from work, he asked, “What did the tests say? Is there a problem?” I smiled gently and replied, “No, we’re both fine. The doctor said pregnancy is a matter of chance; as long as we take care of our health, exercise, and avoid late nights, it will happen eventually.” Gregory nodded with a neutral expression. “That’s good.” Although he didn’t say much, I could tell he wasn’t entirely satisfied with this outcome. After that day, we didn’t mention the baby issue again. I had just been promoted to a supervisory position at work, and with my increased responsibilities, I had even less time to think about it.

One day, when I came home from work, Gregory surprised me by cooking dinner. I guessed he might want to discuss something important. I was right. He told me he wanted to bring his mom and cousin, Tina, to live with us. Initially, I was reluctant. With more people in the house, there would inevitably be conflicts and tensions. Moreover, managing the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship was already challenging; adding a cousin into the mix felt overwhelming. But Gregory insisted, “My dad passed away when I was young, and my mom worked hard to raise me alone. Now that I can support her, I can’t leave her in the small town. Besides, Tina’s parents passed away, and she has always relied on us. I’ve always considered her like a sister.” So, I reluctantly agreed to let them move in. Before long, my mother-in-law and Tina arrived, dressed simply and exuding an air of humility. “You must be Samantha! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” my mother-in-law said warmly, rushing over to shake my hand. I felt a bit overwhelmed. I responded politely but distantly, “Mom, you both can settle in comfortably here. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” “Absolutely!” my mother-in-law nodded eagerly, while Tina seemed indifferent. Tina was 20 years old and, though she dressed plainly, it was clear she was a pretty young woman. According to Gregory, Tina hadn’t gone to college after high school because his mom needed help at home, so she stayed to care for her. Tina was diligent, jumping right into chores and cooking as soon as she arrived. However, she didn’t seem to like me very much. Sometimes, she’d be laughing and chatting with Gregory one moment, and then her face would drop the second she saw me. Today was Sunday, and after my shower, I went to my bedroom to change. On my way back to the bathroom, I noticed my recently changed underwear was missing. “Mom, did anyone come to the bathroom just now?” I asked my mother-in-law, who was watching TV in the living room. “Oh, Tina went in a bit ago,” she replied. I walked over to Tina’s room and knocked on the door. “Tina, did you see my underwear that I just changed out of?” Tina appeared unhappy and said, “I washed them.” Washed them? In just a few minutes? “Did you hand wash them for me?” I asked, surprised. “Not at all. I just tossed them in the washing machine with the other clothes,” she pouted. “What? You can’t just throw them in the washing machine! That’s so unsanitary!” I exclaimed as I hurried to stop the washing machine. Inside, I found all of our clothes mixed together, including socks, along with my recently changed underwear. That set was from a pricey brand my friend abroad had sent me, and it was barely worn. Now, not only was it dirty, but it was also wrinkled and ruined by the washing machine. Fuming, I confronted her, “I didn’t ask you to wash my underwear! Who washes their underwear with everyone else’s? Don’t you realize how unsanitary that is?” To my surprise, she didn’t back down and shouted back, “It’s just a worn-out underwear set! What’s the big deal? Besides, when Gregory was living at home, didn’t his underwear get washed with mine?” I was so stunned; I didn’t expect Tina to have such a bad attitude, even calling her brother by his name. My mother-in-law rushed in, hearing our argument, and instead of calming things down, she took Tina’s side. “Samantha, don’t be upset. Tina is still young and doesn’t understand. As a sister-in-law, you should be more tolerant,” she pretended to be the good guy while protecting Tina. I was at a loss for words, and feeling like I shouldn’t create family drama, I turned to Tina and said, “Fine, just apologize to me and we can move past this.” Tina remained unfazed, and it took several cues from my mother-in-law before she reluctantly said, “I’m sorry!” Then she turned and slammed the door behind her. I stood there staring at my mother-in-law, who continued to defend Tina. I waved my hand, indicating there was no need for more discussion; it was over.

I thought that what happened today was just a minor incident, but it turned out to be just the beginning. Tina seemed to be intentionally provoking me; each time she did laundry, she would take Gregory’s clothes and wash them separately, deliberately leaving mine behind. I didn’t want to get into it with her; she was just a sheltered girl and didn’t know better. However, my tolerance didn’t dissuade her annoying behavior; in fact, it made her bolder. One day, I noticed some of my cosmetics had gone missing. Given there were only a few of us in the house, it was obvious who took them. While Gregory was in the living room chatting with my mother-in-law, I marched straight into Tina’s room. I heard a loud scream, “What are you doing? Samantha, are you out of your mind?” There she was, wearing a revealing tank dress, barely concealing her modesty. I yanked open the drawer of her desk and found my missing cosmetics lying inside. I held up a bottle of foundation and approached her. “What is this?” She feigned indifference and replied, “It’s foundation. What’s the problem?” I couldn’t help but laugh in frustration. “I know it’s foundation! More importantly, I know it’s my foundation!” “That’s nonsense! This is mine!” she stubbornly defended. I smirked, “Oh really? What brand is it? What shade? Which counter did you buy it from?” She fell silent, glaring at me with daggers. At that moment, Gregory and my mother-in-law heard the commotion and rushed in. Tina, upon seeing Gregory, immediately leaped into his arms, completely disregarding what she was wearing. “Greg, this woman is accusing me of stealing her stuff! You have to stand up for me!” she said, feigning tears. Gregory gently rubbed her back and comforted her softly, “It’s okay, don’t cry. I’ll figure out what’s going on.” Then he turned to me, “Samantha, is there some misunderstanding? Tina isn’t like that.” I let out a scoff. “Misunderstanding?” I held the foundation up for them to see. “I have this little habit where I write the date on the bottom when I open a new cosmetic. You can check for yourselves.” When they looked at the bottom, they saw the small date I had written, and their expressions turned awkward. Gregory spoke first, “Samantha, Tina probably just thought these were new and interesting. After all, she hasn’t seen this kind of stuff in Appalachia. I’ll apologize for her. Please don’t be upset.” My mother-in-law added insincerely, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t raise her properly; you can blame me!” This whole family was acting so put upon that it made me look like the villain. I felt incredibly frustrated and said, “Just have her return all my things, and I won’t argue with you!” Tina reluctantly handed the items back to me. Seeing her sulking, Gregory consoled her, “Don’t be sad. I’ll buy you new stuff tomorrow, the best and most expensive.” Hearing this made me both sad and infuriated. My husband was siding with his sister for her wrongdoings and disrespecting me. I was at my wit’s end and retreated to my room.

Not long after, Gregory came into my room. “Samantha, I know you’re upset, but Tina has lived in a small town her whole life and hasn’t seen much. She’s really quite innocent and pitiable,” he said. I didn’t respond, unwilling to engage in this pointless conversation. Seeing I wasn’t reacting, he continued, “I know we’re from different backgrounds, and you might have some biases. But I hope you can look at our years of feelings and give me some grace. Can we just let this go?” Gregory’s words sounded condescending to me, and I was so annoyed I didn’t want to say anything to him. Noticing my silence, he left the room. The next day, true to form, Gregory bought Tina a bunch of expensive cosmetics, but he also got me something. This time, he didn’t say any passive-aggressive remarks but instead held up a new designer bag, soothingly telling me not to be upset. Seeing his sincere attitude, I decided not to dwell on the issue any further. In the afternoon, Tina saw the bag Gregory had bought for me and grew incredibly jealous, saying, “Ugh, relying on a man isn’t a real accomplishment.” I shot back, “I’m your sister-in-law; please speak respectfully! Instead of being jealous, why don’t you think about how to improve yourself?” After I said that, Tina fell completely silent, though I could see her eyes rolling in disdain. Maybe my words struck a chord; she began to learn how to do makeup and dressed up more, going out every day. One night, seeing her heavy makeup and a dress so short it might as well be nonexistent, I kindly warned her, “It’s late; you shouldn’t be going out alone.” “Why do you care? What gives you the right to tell me what to do?” she replied dismissively. I was irritated and snapped, “Tina, please remember your place. I’m your brother’s wife, your sister-in-law!” She just scoffed, as if I were a joke, and ignored me as she walked out. I felt my temples pounding in anger. My mother-in-law had gone to bed early, and Gregory was out of town for work, so no one was around to keep an eye on her. Forget it; I didn’t need to get worked up over this. The next morning, just as I was heading out to work, I ran into Tina, who had just come home.

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I supported my girlfriend through college, but she used my credit card to “support” a poor student at her school. Later, I canceled her card. She came to confront me: “You think you’re so great just because you have a few bucks? I don’t need your money.” If you don’t need it, why don’t you give the card back to me? My girlfriend, Sarah, sent me a message asking: “Baby, can you increase my living expenses a bit more?” I found it strange. Sarah wasn’t the type to spend money recklessly. In the past, if I tried to give her money, she would scold me for insulting her with money. But I didn’t think too much about it. Maybe the school needed to buy something? I immediately doubled her living expenses and told her to let me know if she needed money. Sarah received it and sent a “kiss” emoji, then disappeared. That strange feeling came over me again. Lately, my girlfriend only contacted me for money and never chatted about anything else. I thought maybe I had been neglecting her because of my busy work schedule, so I planned to surprise her at her school tomorrow. But I never expected the surprise to turn into a shock. Previously, Sarah had said she didn’t want her roommates to know she had a boyfriend who didn’t go to college but had money, or else they would spread rumors that she was being kept by someone. So whenever I visited her at school, I went as her brother. When I was about to reach her dormitory building, I saw her hugging a male student and walking away, laughing. I felt an icy coldness in my heart. I immediately sent Sarah a message asking what she was doing now. Sarah quickly replied: “Studying in the library.” Looking at the couple walking out of the school gate in front of me, my heart sank to the bottom.

I had seen this man before. During the summer vacation, Sarah and I went to Hawaii together. She went to the bathroom to apply sunscreen, and I waited outside. Her phone, left on the bed, lit up, and I saw that she had changed her lock screen photo to a picture of a guy. At the time, I didn’t pay much attention because she liked to follow celebrities, and they were all this type of guy, so I thought it was just another minor celebrity. Now it seems they were already involved at that time, and she was bold enough to change her screen lock. I also saw that guy sending her a message saying he didn’t have enough money. When I asked Sarah what wasn’t enough money, she was very calm and said that the school was holding a competition and didn’t have enough funds. She was the student council president, so she was in charge of the money. Later, she dragged me out to go swimming, and I forgot about it when we got back. My feelings were really complicated. Sarah and I had been together since high school. Back then, she was often bullied because people said her family was poor. I couldn’t stand it and stood up for her once. From then on, Sarah followed me every day, and slowly we got together. I didn’t get into college and went back to inherit the family business. She did very well in her exams, so I supported her through college. In high school, she was such a timid girl. How could she change so much in just three short years? I called her again that night, but no one answered. Very late, almost eleven o’clock, she finally sent me a message saying she had just returned to her dorm from the library. She also said she would come to see me tomorrow and had a gift for me, telling me to look forward to it. I really wanted to see what kind of trick she was going to pull.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I remembered that my friend’s new girlfriend was also from that school, so I asked him to help me find out about that guy. My friend, hearing about my situation, felt very sympathetic and sent me a lot of information within half an hour. That guy was known as a handsome “grass-roots” guy at school. He was good-looking but poor, and also a scholarship student. He was also in the student council and was very close to my girlfriend. People at school assumed they were a couple. The guy had pretty good grades at school and won the Inspirational Scholarship every year. Last year, he even became the school’s campus ambassador. However, this guy also had some bad reviews. Most of the girls who had dated him said he was quite a jerk, always asking the girl for money. If the girl said she had no money, he would immediately use cold violence to force a breakup, then seamlessly move on to the next one. Another point was that this guy loved playing games, and probably spent most of his money on games. As luck would have it, I had a very high rank in the game he played. I asked my friend if he had the guy’s contact information. My friend immediately sent a string of numbers. I searched and felt the avatar was familiar, like I had seen it in a game group I had joined. I went back to the main page and searched, and we were indeed in the same game group. He was quite active there. I thought for a moment, created a small account to join the group, posted a screenshot of my game rank, @ed him asking if he wanted to play together, then casually added him as a game friend and went to sleep.

When I woke up the next day, that guy had indeed accepted my friend request and asked if the game screenshot I posted in the group was my own. I said, “If you don’t believe me, why don’t I carry you for a couple of games?” While my girlfriend hadn’t arrived yet, I played games with him for an hour. After seeing me get MVP in every game, he treated me like his own brother. I looked at the time and remembered that my girlfriend would usually arrive at my place around this time, so I told the guy we’d play again next time. He replied, “Sure thing.” A moment later, my girlfriend also sent me a message saying she was at my doorstep. I went to open the door for her and felt a bit strange seeing her dressed up like a rich lady. In the past, if I bought her a dress, she would scold me for wasting money. Seeing me in a daze, my girlfriend playfully hit me. “What are you thinking about? Let me in.” I turned and walked back, and she called out from behind me, “Hey, why aren’t you helping me change my shoes?” I ignored her and walked straight to the sofa to lie down. My girlfriend changed her shoes herself and complained while carrying bags of things. “You’ve changed. You don’t care about me anymore.” I glanced at her and forced a smile. My girlfriend might have noticed my low mood and didn’t want to be too enthusiastic. She got angry with me. “What are you doing? I said I’d come to see you today, and you’re giving me the cold shoulder.” “You don’t deserve the gift I prepared for you.” At the mention of a gift, I became a bit interested. In our three years of dating, she had only bought me something once or twice, and that was when she needed something from me. The first time was when she bought me a lighter, then said her brother had gotten into a fight and was in jail, asking if I could help bail him out. The second time was when she bought me a tie, saying her parents wanted to help her brother with a down payment for a house, asking if I could help a bit. She said she would definitely pay me back and even insisted on writing an IOU. This time, was it her brother in trouble again?

Seeing my expectant face, my girlfriend thought I was going to comfort her. She “hmph”-ed and ignored me. I flipped through her so-called gifts and opened a pair of Nike sneakers. But I already had this same model, and obviously, the size was two sizes smaller than mine. They didn’t look new, more like second-hand. Seeing me put the gift aside indifferently, my girlfriend immediately exploded. “What do you mean? You think you’re great because you have money? I know you look down on me. I’ll never buy you gifts again.” I sneered, “The size is wrong. Are you sure you bought it for me?” My girlfriend looked to the side guiltily and quickly put the shoes back in the bag. “Well, I bought the wrong size! Do you have to be angry with me about this? This is my heartfelt intention, something money can’t buy.” As if to end this topic, my girlfriend immediately picked up another bag. “Look, I made you sunny-side-up eggs!” I looked at the porridge. Wasn’t this the “love breakfast” that guy had posted on Instagram earlier? What, she couldn’t finish it so she brought it to me? I showed no interest and didn’t even look at it. “I don’t want to eat.” My girlfriend finally exploded, yelling at me for half an hour, saying I wasn’t like this before. I fell asleep listening to her nagging. When I woke up, my girlfriend was gone. My phone had also received a message from her: “I won’t forgive you.”

After that, my girlfriend never contacted me again, but she still used the joint account I had set up for her as usual. I turned off the joint account and canceled her card. Immediately, my girlfriend sent me a message: “You’re despicable.” What? I became despicable just because I stopped giving you money? I ignored her and continued working. After just three days, my girlfriend came to reconcile. I looked at my girlfriend standing miserably at my doorstep, seemingly with a handprint on her face. As soon as she saw me, she pitifully burrowed into my arms and said tearfully, “My parents are asking me for money again.” After crying for a while and seeing that I wasn’t saying anything, she added, “Can you help me?” I thought for a moment, pulled her out of my arms, and said seriously: “It’s not that I don’t want to help you. My company is having financial difficulties recently. Why don’t you pay back the money I lent you before to help me out?” My girlfriend immediately stopped crying and stammered, “Where would I get money from?” “I give you so much money every month, you haven’t saved any?” My girlfriend changed the subject, saying there were many places at school that needed money. I could only shake my head regretfully. “Then there’s nothing I can do. I’m out of money too.” Hearing that I had no money, my girlfriend widened her eyes and asked how that was possible. I didn’t say anything, and my girlfriend came to nuzzle me, crying, though there seemed to be few tears on her face. “Please help me. If you don’t help me, my parents will come to the school. Then the whole school will know my family is poor.” Didn’t my girlfriend used to say in front of me that although she was materially poor, she was spiritually rich? Who possessed her now? I still didn’t agree, and my girlfriend probably didn’t believe I really had no money. She fell asleep crying on my sofa, feeling secure. At this time, her phone left on the table lit up. Looking at my girlfriend sleeping soundly, I opened her phone and saw her chat history with that guy. There’s only one word to describe it. Sugar mommy. What? I thought you were just cheating with someone else, I didn’t expect you to be playing sugar mommy. Using the money I gave you to be a sugar mommy to a junior, you’re really playing it big. That guy seemed quite good at flirting, sending abs photos and private photos frequently. My girlfriend didn’t look like the poor little white flower she pretended to be in front of me; in front of this guy, she was clearly a rich and beautiful sugar mommy. I looked and saw that my girlfriend had gotten together with him a month ago, and had transferred at least 100,000 to him back and forth. My girlfriend was particularly proud, saying she had an uneducated rich boyfriend who was a big fool. That guy praised my girlfriend for being so charming, reminding her to ask me for more money. So I was just a part of your play? If before I was just going to punish my girlfriend a little, now I was really heartbroken. Three years of feelings in her eyes were just being a big fool. Not going to college in her eyes meant I was uneducated and not worthy of her. Even feeding a dog for three years wouldn’t bite people like this. Since you’re not being kind, don’t blame me for being unkind.

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