Category: English

I walked into the classroom. My eyes immediately landed on my boyfriend, Dave. And, of course, the girl practically climbing him like a jungle gym, laughing with her head thrown back. His lifelong best friend, Monica. They both saw me. Dave instinctively shoved Monica away. But Monica just smirked, throwing me a victorious look. “Sorry, Maya. Dave only saved one seat. First come, first served.” The classroom went silent. Every eye in the room was on us. This wasn’t the first time Dave had only saved a seat for Monica. The first time, I felt humiliated. I burst into tears and ran out of the room. The second time, when Monica gave me that same smug look, I stood my ground. We had a shouting match in the middle of the lecture hall, and I forced my way into that seat. But between Dave and Monica, I was constantly starting fights, constantly furious. My hormones were a mess just from the pure rage I was walking around with. And this time, watching them pull the same old stunt. I just couldn’t be bothered. I didn’t try to take the seat from Monica, and I didn’t start a fight with Dave. I didn’t even look at them. I just clutched my textbook to my chest and walked to the back of the room, toward the only open seat left. “Hi,” I said softly, standing over the desk. “Is this seat taken?” 2 The guy sitting there was wearing headphones, his head down as he focused on his notes. He looked up at my voice. His gaze seemed to pause on my face for a second before he pulled his eyes away. Then, he stood up, gesturing for me to take the inner seat. “Thank you,” I said in a low voice, sliding into the desk. At the front of the classroom. The sound of a book being slammed down hard on a desk suddenly rang out. I looked down the row. I was staring right into Monica’s eyes. She was looking back at me, her expression one of unmistakable fury. I suddenly remembered a rumor I’d heard when I first started at this school. Apparently, Monica and the guy sitting next to me, Ethan, were supposed to be engaged, some old family arrangement. I couldn’t help but glance at him. He’d already put his headphones back on and was leaning slightly over his desk, back to solving his problems. I could only see his side profile—distant, cold, and utterly removed. My phone buzzed. I pulled it out. It was a text from Dave. [I lost a bet last night. That’s the only reason I saved Monica a seat today.] [Don’t be mad, babe. I’ll take you out for a huge dinner tonight.] I looked at the words and almost laughed out loud. There was always an excuse. It wasn’t that Monica had been sick and he had to rush her to the hospital, causing him to miss our date. It was that they were “basically siblings” since they grew up together, completely platonic. If they were really “just platonic,” why was he with me? Dave was my first love. And I’d been serious about this relationship. Which was why my happiness, my sadness, my everything was so easily tied up in his actions. But now, I just felt… tired. I didn’t reply. I just exited out of the messaging app. During the lecture break. Monica and Dave started goofing around. “Alright, Dave, you’re dead!” Monica lunged at him, chasing him and playfully swatting his arm. It looked a lot more like flirting than fighting. She reached out and pinched his neck. The expression on Dave’s face looked like he was enjoying it. “Okay, okay! Are you ever going to act like a girl?” “I’m not one of those whiny, high-maintenance girls you usually go for.” Monica’s words were clearly pointed at me as she shot me a look. “I won’t start crying at the drop of a hat to get attention.” “And I don’t use that fake high-pitched voice to get my way. It’s disgusting.” I kept my head down, a small smile playing on my lips. Under the desk, my hand reached out and lightly pulled the sleeve of Ethan’s shirt. “Ethan.” He turned his head to look at me. I pressed my lips together and pointed to his headphones. Ethan didn’t say anything, but he raised his hand and pulled off the earbud closest to me. Then, I spoke, deliberately using that fake high-pitched voice Monica had just described. “Your future fiancée is being awfully flirtatious with my boyfriend. Aren’t you jealous?” 3 Ethan’s eyes were cold and distant. “I don’t have a future fiancée.” “But I heard that you two have an family arrangement.” “An ancient myth.” Ethan’s voice suddenly dropped a few degrees. I couldn’t help but look at him again, my gaze tracing his sharp, strong jawline. Slowly, I let my eyes wander down to his hand, which was holding his pen. The sunlight was streaming through the window, engulfing him. In the light and shadow, his long, slender fingers were as beautiful as carved ivory. I bit my lip, leaning in close to him, and whispered. “Then… want to make a deal?” “A deal for what?” Ethan suddenly turned his face toward me. I didn’t have time to pull away. A faint, cool, and incredibly pleasing scent of mint washed over me. My breath hitched for a second. “A deal to be your girlfriend.” Ethan actually put down his pen. “What’s in it for me?” My cheeks burned. I looked down, my long eyelashes casting shadows. On the right side of my chin, a bright red, swollen pimple had formed. Right now, it was stinging and itching. My roommate had told me it was definitely a hormonal breakout from stress. In the front row, Dave and Monica were still acting completely inappropriately. Monica was sitting on her desk, playfully kicking Dave. Every now and then, she’d deliberately look back at me and laugh incredibly loud. It was supposed to be a carefree, open laugh. But to me, it was the most irritating sound in the world. When Monica first met me, her attitude had been awful. Dave was introducing us. She was standing right next to Dave, her arm slung over his shoulder like one of his bros. She’d scanned me from head to toe. Then she’d punched Dave’s arm. “You motherfucker! I should have known you liked this type of delicate little flower girl.” “If you ever treat your girlfriend better than your bro, I’ll be the first person to call you a pussy.” Dave had laughed so hard back then. He must have really enjoyed it. I took a deep breath. When Monica deliberately laughed again and looked my way. Under the table, I pulled Ethan’s sleeve again. “It’ll relieve your stress, and it’ll stabilize my hormones. We both win.” I’d heard a few things. The research project Ethan was working on was incredibly difficult. He’d pulling all-nighters in the lab for weeks now. Ethan didn’t say anything. His beautiful hand just picked up the pen on his notebook and started twirling it. A long moment passed before he looked at me again, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Only…” I held my breath instinctively. The sunlight suddenly disappeared behind a cloud. And Ethan’s voice suddenly turned cold. “I’m not interested in other people’s girlfriends.” 4 Class started again. Monica had gone back to sitting normally in her own seat. The professor walked in again. The noisy classroom slowly went quiet. I spoke in a voice that only Ethan could hear, whispering to him. “I’m already planning on breaking up with him.” Ethan looked straight ahead at the blackboard. “Then break up first. We’ll talk after.” I didn’t dare say another word to him. He was the famous, untouchable genius of the school. When he was serious, he radiated a cold, distant “do not disturb” vibe. For the rest of the lecture. I kept my head down, focusing on the blackboard and the professor. But only I knew that my mind was miles away. Right before class ended. Dave suddenly sent me another text: [Something came up tonight. We’ll have to do dinner tomorrow.] [I promise I’ll make it up to you this weekend.] [How many times do I have to tell you? Monica and I are just bros.] [Fine, if we hang out this weekend, I promise not to let her come.] I didn’t reply. The moment class ended, Monica dragged Dave out of the room. Before they left, she threw one more look toward the back row. But she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at Ethan. But Ethan was wearing his headphones, packing up his notes, not looking up. Monica looked disappointed as she quickly dragged Dave away. “Ethan, can I add you on Instagram?” He stood up, and I worked up the courage to stop him. Ethan didn’t pull up his QR code for me to scan. “Break up first.” He was so tall that when he looked down at me. I felt like I was being exposed. Like there was nothing I could hide from his eyes. I couldn’t meet his gaze. I just pulled up my last conversation with Dave and showed it to him. In a very small voice, I said, “Look. We’re already broken up.” Ethan looked at the screen. Then, right in front of him, I deleted Dave’s contact. “Do you believe me now?” Ethan’s face, a face so handsome it should have been a crime, was still blank. But he pulled out his phone, pulling up his own QR code. “Scan me.” 5 After adding each other, Ethan left immediately. He’d been practically living in the lab for the last two days and was swamped. We made plans to meet up on Saturday night. I watched him walk away until his back was completely out of sight. Then I just sat there in my seat, dazed. If Ethan’s profile picture wasn’t right there in my new contacts list. I almost would have believed that everything that just happened was a figment of my imagination. That night, I had insomnia. Monica posted a ton of Instagram stories. They were all photos of their old high school friend group hanging out. But in almost every single photo, Dave and Monica were the center of attention. The last photo was of Dave and Monica kissing. I couldn’t be completely unfazed. But I just let out a self-deprecating laugh. Then I deleted Monica from my contacts. And I posted a new photo to my own story. It was a picture my roommates had taken of my back when we were walking on the track earlier that night. It was beautiful, pure. I added a single caption. “Nothing but single, clean vibes over here.” As soon as the story went up, my phone exploded. Several mutual friends immediately commented with “???” “Maya, are you and Dave fighting?” “No way, did you guys break up?” “I knew this day would come. It’s because of Monica, right?” I didn’t reply to any of them. Because Ethan had just sent me a direct message. [Not asleep yet?] [A little insomnia. How about you? Still in the lab?] [Yeah. Things aren’t going well tonight.] Ethan sent a picture. “The results aren’t matching up. Even after running the simulation.” [What are you going to do? Is it urgent?] [Very. I have to submit the report tomorrow.] [Then… I won’t bother you.] A few seconds later, Ethan suddenly sent an audio message. “Didn’t you say you were going to relieve my stress?” His voice was a low, tired rasp. It carried a deep, unshakeable weariness. I shot upright in my bed. My cheeks were burning, my heart pounding so fast I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. I typed out a few words, deleted them, then started over, not knowing what to say. Ethan sent another message: “The pimple on your chin… does it still hurt?” I bit my lip, biting it so hard I left deep tooth marks. [It hurts. And it itches.] 6 Ethan picked me up and took me to his lab. As soon as the door opened, the first thing I saw was a desk. On it was a piece of tortoise shell and a single stick of lit incense. “My predecessor left that. He said it’s incredibly powerful.” On the other side of the room, on one of the petri dishes, a very old handwritten protective talisman was taped. Ethan explained again, “My other predecessor left that one. We can’t take it off. If we do, the mold won’t grow.” I quickly pulled my hand away from the talisman. So this was what a lab at a top-tier university looked like. It turned out that at the end of science was ancient spirituality. Ethan pulled on a clean lab coat. He leaned against a windowsill, the bloodshot veins in his eyes visible. “Unfortunately, none of it worked tonight.” “What are you going to do?” Ethan shook his head. “I don’t know.” “I just have to run the simulation again.” “Then… will my being here distract you?” Ethan smiled. “No. I have to wait for the data anyway. It gets boring sitting here alone.” “Then I’ll keep you company.” I walked over and leaned against the windowsill right next to him. The moonlight was soft and gentle. It was engulfing him, and it was engulfing me. I don’t know where the courage came from. “Ethan.” “Hmm?” “My chin… it really hurts.” “I’ll go buy you some ointment…” “My roommate said… it’s a hormonal breakout from stress.” I turned around, tilting my face up to him in the moonlight. “Can you help me stabilize my hormones?” 7 Before I could stand on my tiptoes, close my eyes, and kiss him. Ethan beat me to it. He cupped my face with both hands and lowered his head, a deep kiss that was anything but gentle. At first, his movements were stiff and awkward. But very quickly, he seemed to find his rhythm. His long, slender fingers laced through my thick, cool hair. He held the back of my head, pulling me into him, deepening the kiss. I was so nervous I was shaking. Instinctively, I raised my hands to push him away. Ethan stopped. “Maya.” He softly whispered my name. The moonlight was hazy, reflecting in his eyes. His voice was colder than the moonlight itself. “If you want to regret this now, if you want to go back to Dave.” “There’s still time.” I didn’t say a word. I just closed my eyes again and lightly wrapped my arms around his neck. As the sound of soft, wet kisses filled the air. The equipment beside us suddenly started let out a few beeps. “Beep, beep.” “Ethan?” I jumped, automatically trying to push him away. But my damp fingers were held tightly in his grip. “The simulation was successful.” “Maya, we can’t stop yet.” Ethan picked me up and sat me on the windowsill. He brushed away the damp hair sticking to my cheek. He pulled me into another kiss, deeper and heavier this time. “How much longer…” My voice was trembling slightly. My legs felt like jelly. “Until it stops beeping.” “Until the data is completely stable.” “What if it keeps beeping?” Ethan let out a soft laugh by my ear. He lowered his head, pressing against my swollen lips. “Then… maybe a simple kiss won’t be enough.” 8 My eyes snapped wide open. “That, would that… be too fast?” Ethan kissed me again, a shallow smile playing in his eyes. The “beep, beep” of the equipment continued. Slowly, deliberately, he deepened the kiss again, inch by inch. Just as I was starting to lose my mind, completely drowning in him. He gently released me. The pad of his finger brushed against the corner of my mouth, gently wiping away the traces of our kiss. His voice was a low drone right by my ear: “What would be too fast?” “Did you think I was going to do something to you?” “In a lab… with you?” “Ethan!” I was so angry I shoved him. Ethan didn’t move to stop me, letting me push him back a step. He ended up leaning against the lab bench behind him. He wasn’t angry either. His face, usually so cold and distant. Right now, it was still tight with a raw hunger. His lips quirked up slightly, a dangerous, playful smile on his face. If I hadn’t heard it myself… I never would have believed that Ethan, of all people, could say something so explicit. He rarely smiled, maybe this was why. When he did smile, where was the cold, untouchable genius everyone admired? He was just a complete and utter asshole. I pulled my gaze away, a blank look on my face, and turned to walk out. As I passed by him. He suddenly gripped my wrist. And right at that moment, the “beep, beep” of the equipment abruptly stopped. In the same second, Ethan pulled me into his arms. “The simulation was successful.” Saying that, he rested his chin lightly against the side of my neck. “Maya… thank you.”

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I spent two years tending to Damien Thorne after the accident that left him paralyzed. Everyone in our circle assumed that the moment he could walk again, he’d put a ring on my finger. The night his surgery was declared a success, I was the only one who asked, “Do you still want to marry me?” He hesitated. That one simple word—”Yes”—never made it past his lips. I let out a short, dry laugh. “I get it.” I pulled the ring off my finger and walked out of the house I’d called home for two years, and I didn’t look back. 01 “Do you still want to marry me?” Damien froze. He stared down at his legs for a long time, his jaw tight. The muffled sounds of a celebration filtered in through the cracked bedroom door. “The surgeon said the procedure was a miracle. He’ll be back on his feet in a month.” “I honestly thought he was done for. Two years ago, he’d given up on everything.” “It’s all thanks to Claire. She never left his side. I bet there’s a wedding by Christmas. We should start looking at registries.” Damien heard his friends’ cheers, but he remained silent. The air in the room turned heavy, suffocating. Finally, I stood up. I reached for the physical therapy oil and began massaging his knees and calves, just as I had every night for seven hundred days. “Is this pressure okay?” I asked, giving him an out. The tension in his shoulders bled away. He relaxed back into the pillows and whispered, “Yeah. It’s perfect.” “Any discomfort?” He shook his head. “No. You’re better at this than the clinic therapists.” I stared at my hands as they worked. I wasn’t always good at this. In the beginning, he couldn’t stand the touch of a stranger. He’d scream at the professional nurses until they quit. But rehab was non-negotiable. So, I spent three months shadowing a specialist in the city. I practiced on my own muscles until I was bruised, just so I wouldn’t hurt him when I finally touched his legs. The first time I tried, I waited until he was asleep. He was a light sleeper. He woke up and snarled, “Get out! Get the hell out!” I didn’t move. I kept working the pressure points the specialist had shown me. He couldn’t move his legs, so he grabbed his pillow and threw it at my head. I ignored it. Then he grabbed whatever was on his nightstand—books, water glasses—and hurled them at me. The last thing he threw was a framed photo of himself from his college track days. He was holding a trophy, fist pumped, looking invincible. Warm blood trickled down my forehead from the corner of the frame. He watched me, struggling to lunge toward me, but his useless legs kept him pinned. He covered his face and began to sob. “Just leave, Claire. Don’t stay here. It’s useless. I can’t feel a thing. No amount of rubbing is going to fix a broken man.” 02 He was drowning in self-pity back then. I showed up every single day, rain or shine, to work his muscles. It lasted until his mother found him unconscious from an overdose of sleeping pills. After they pumped his stomach, I knelt by his hospital bed. “Look at me,” I said. He looked, his eyes hollow. “Everything is going to be okay,” I told him. “Trust me.” At the time, I didn’t know where that confidence came from. From that day on, I moved into the Thorne estate. Damien’s mother cried as she thanked me over and over. She wanted to ask what our “status” was, but she couldn’t find the words. So I told her: “As long as Damien doesn’t kick me out, I’m staying.” Truth was, he tried to kick me out plenty of times. I just didn’t leave. During one particularly bad session, he screamed, “Get out! Everyone just leave me alone!” He was in his wheelchair then, and he’d smashed half the lamps in the room. But I noticed something—he’d stopped aiming at me. When he was done venting, I walked over to him. “Damien,” I whispered. “Trust me.” I said that for two years. Slowly, he began to feel the pressure. Then a toe twitched. Then he could lift a heel. By the time the surgery happened yesterday, the doctors called it a medical anomaly. The surgery was a total success. Barring any complications, he was going to walk again. 03 When Damien’s mother heard the news, she tried to press a high-limit debit card into my hand. I looked at the plastic and felt a strange sense of vertigo. I hadn’t spent two years of my life for a paycheck. Damien’s friends all called me “the one,” the future Mrs. Thorne. But only I knew the truth: we were nothing. We’d never had an official talk. We’d never even had a proper date. The only thing I had was a promise he made during his first month of recovery, right after a specialist told him he’d likely never walk again. I pushed his wheelchair back to the house, and he broke down the moment the door closed. The golden boy had fallen from his pedestal, and he couldn’t take it. I held him tight. He bit my shoulder in his agony—so deep it left a scar that’s still there today. When he saw the blood, he snapped out of it. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “God, Claire, I’m so sorry.” As I massaged his legs that night, he whispered, “Claire, the moment I can walk, we’re getting married.” Then he asked, “You’ve had a crush on me since high school, haven’t you?” I didn’t lie. I looked him in the eye and said, “Yes.” He told me he’d marry me, but I didn’t do it for a ring. I did it because I loved him, and I prayed that one day, he’d feel the same. Back in the present, I finished rubbing the oil into his skin. I could feel him watching me. “Claire,” he said softly. “You don’t have to do this anymore.” My hands faltered. I finished the last stroke and looked up. “Damien… do you still want to marry me?” He started to speak, then stopped. He closed his eyes and said nothing. I realized then I was a fool for dreaming. The ring on my finger—the one he’d ordered from his bed and slipped on my hand months ago—felt like a hot iron. 04 I stood up and washed the oil off my hands. The ring was a fraction too small. It had been pinching my skin for months, but I’d ignored the pain. I didn’t even know if he’d guessed the size or if he’d just given me something he already had. “Claire,” he called from the room. “I think of you as a sister.” A tear hit the sink. I wiped it away instantly. Don’t say that, I thought. That’s the cruelest thing you could say to me. I walked out into the living room. The party was still going strong. I looked at Damien and slowly twisted the ring off my finger. My skin was red and indented. For a long time, I’d lied to myself, saying all engagement rings felt tight. But the moment it came off, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. I actually regretted not taking it off sooner. Damien avoided my eyes. I held the ring out to him. “Here. Take it back.” He saw the deep red mark on my finger. “It was a size too small,” I added. He opened his mouth to explain, but I waved him off and pushed his wheelchair toward the guests. 05 As soon as we entered the foyer, his friends swarmed us. “What were you two whispering about? Secrets already?” “Don’t worry, we won’t crash the party today. We’re saving the wild stuff for the bachelor party.” “One more drink and then we’re out of your hair.” Damien’s friends were like him—privileged, but mostly well-mannered. Out of respect for his recovery, they’d brought expensive juices and light catering. “Damien, man,” one of them said. “Once you’re fully cleared, we’re hitting Whistler for a ski trip. Just like old times.” Damien agreed naturally. He didn’t even flinch at the mention of skiing—an activity that used to trigger his darkest moods. His friend turned to me. “You’re coming too, Claire. Damien will book the flights. You’re gonna love the lodge.” Damien looked at me, then shifted the burden. After being rejected twice in one night, I still had a shred of pride left. “You guys go ahead,” I said. But then Damien spoke up. “It’s fine if she comes. “After all, she’s like family. Like a little sister to me.” The room went dead silent. His best friend laughed nervously and swatted Damien’s shoulder. “What are you talking about, man?” Another friend jumped in to smooth things over. “He just had anesthesia yesterday, his brain is scrambled. Don’t mind him, Claire.” The moment passed with forced laughter, but Damien didn’t retract a single word. 06 I remembered what my best friend had asked me when she first saw the ring. “Claire, are you sure about this? “The Thornes live in a different world. If he actually gets better, do you think he’ll really stay?” I hadn’t dared to answer then. I didn’t have to now. Damien had given me the answer. He wouldn’t. The atmosphere of the party remained “harmonious”—soft indie music, talk of old Ivy League days. I looked down and googled Whistler. It was a world-class resort. I realized I didn’t understand half of what they were talking about. My friend was right. We weren’t from the same world. I stood up. Damien’s eyes snapped to me immediately. I went to my room. It was “my” room, but everything in it had been bought by Damien’s mother. I called the woman who had cried tears of gratitude two years ago. “Mrs. Thorne,” I said, my voice steady. “About that card you offered…” She sounded relieved I was bringing it up. “There’s a high six-figure balance on it, Claire. Please, take it. It’s the least we can do for everything you’ve done for my son.” “Thank you,” I said. I didn’t have much to pack. I threw my few personal clothes into a bag and left the rest. I walked through the living room. “Hey, Claire,” one of the friends called out. “It’s late. Where are you heading?” I didn’t want to make it awkward for Damien. I forced a smile. “Just a late-night craving. I’m heading out for some pancakes.” They offered to DoorDash something, but I shook my head. “It’s fine. I need the air.” Damien sensed something. He stared at me, unblinking. I waved to the room. “Goodbye, everyone.” At 1:00 AM, with a debit card in my pocket, I left the life I’d lived for two years. I figured we were even. 07 I found a place of my own in the city. I didn’t have to watch Damien every second anymore. I didn’t have to fear his midnight meltdowns. My body finally relaxed, but it was a shock to the system. I couldn’t sleep. I’d sit on my balcony with a coffee, staring at the few stars visible through the city smog. In the silence, I started listening to my own heart. I thought I’d be devastated. Heartbroken. But I wasn’t. I just rubbed the red mark on my ring finger and wondered how long it would take to fade. That night, the breeze felt cool. The stars felt bright. Damien called me the following afternoon. When I picked up, there was only silence on the other end. Finally, I spoke. “Is something wrong?” “Claire…” he said, his voice hesitant. “I wanted those cinnamon rolls for breakfast. The ones you make.” When he first became paralyzed, he refused to eat. I tried a hundred different recipes. I begged him, tears hitting the floor. “Please, just one bite. You have to eat.” Maybe he got tired of seeing me cry. He finally frowned and took a bite of a cinnamon roll. He didn’t like the store-bought ones. So, I learned how to bake them from scratch. But the silence from the night before was still fresh in my mind. “I’m gone, Damien,” I said calmly. 08 There was a long pause. I didn’t know what else to say, so I hung up. The amount of money in that account was staggering. I stared at the zeroes on the ATM screen, stunned. I checked it three times before I finally understood what my friend meant by “different worlds.” My parents were just normal people. When I told them I was taking care of a paralyzed boyfriend, they even came to visit. Mrs. Thorne had hosted them with such overwhelming “hospitality” that they felt completely out of place. When they got home, my dad told me, “Honey, this is going to be a hard mountain to climb.” They didn’t stop me, though. “Go ahead and try,” my mom said. “If it doesn’t work out, you can always come home.” Two years later, I finally understood Mrs. Thorne’s hospitality. The expensive meals and the constant hovering weren’t just kindness; they were a boundary. She was showing my small-town parents exactly where the line was drawn. I used the money to buy a condo in a nice part of town. There was still a fortune left over. I spent the next two weeks busy with contractors and furniture. Half a month later, I saw Damien again—at a coffee shop right near my new building. His friends were pushing his wheelchair, cheering him on. “Damien, if you don’t win her back, I’m disowning you as a friend.” “Just apologize to her. No one else belongs in that spot but Claire.” “She’s the only one we recognize.” 09 Damien hadn’t been outside much in two years. His skin was pale, and the sunlight made his face look dangerously handsome. He heard his friends’ jokes and gave a non-committal shrug. “Let’s see if she even shows up first.” Ironically, I was sitting at the table right behind them. I instinctively tried to hide, but then a friend I’d made at the gym walked out of the shop and shouted my name. “Claire!” She ran over. “I got that lemon cake you like!” Damien’s table went silent. I saw them follow her gaze until they landed on me. My friend put the cake down, noticed my face, and asked, “What’s wrong?” I realized there was no point in letting them dictate my mood. “Nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “Sit down. I can’t believe you remembered I liked this cake.” That opened the floodgates. Since we were so close, I couldn’t help but hear their conversation. “It’s fate, Damien. Go apologize.” “You won’t find another girl like her. Trust me.” “If you don’t fix this, we’re done.” I recognized every voice. When Damien was bedridden, they’d come by one by one. There was one girl among them, Sarah, who used to have a massive crush on Damien. When she went into his room to see him back then, Damien had “accidentally” spilled a glass of water on her silk dress. It was a hot day, and the dress was thin. The water made it transparent instantly. Sarah stood there, humiliated. I was the one who found a shawl and covered her up. Damien had just looked at her with cold eyes. “You still like me like this?” Sarah’s eyes were red. I gently led her out of the room. Once outside, she wiped her face and told me, “I don’t like him anymore. He’s not worth it.” She started to walk away, then stopped. She looked at the water stains on the floor and said, “But you’re a good person, Claire. Thank you. “You should stop liking him, too. He doesn’t deserve you.” We became friends after that. We sent each other gifts on holidays. Damien’s friends weren’t bad people. I was lost in thought until I realized Damien was standing right next to my table. He was using a cane now. “Claire,” he said. I looked up. He was frowning, looking like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. His friends started cheering. “Go on, Damien! Apologize! Get her back!” Damien’s frown deepened. But I didn’t need an apology. Relationships are supposed to be mutual. Besides, I had the money. I still hadn’t finished counting the zeroes. I didn’t need to be greedy for his heart, too. I looked at him as he stood there struggling. “You don’t need to do this,” I said. “I don’t need an apology.” He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He started to turn away, then stopped. “When are you coming home?” Maybe I hadn’t been clear enough last time. “I’m not coming back, Damien.” He stared at me for a long time, his expression unreadable. Finally, he gave a curt nod. He went back to his table. His friends were buzzing. “So? Did you get her back?” “When’s the wedding?” “When do we get the save-the-dates?” “There is no wedding,” Damien said, his voice flat and annoyed. The table went quiet. Damien repeated it, louder this time. “Why does everyone assume I’m going to marry her? “Am I supposed to marry her just because I’m grateful? “I told you. She’s like a sister to me.” That was the third time. My patience finally ran out. I stood up and addressed the table. “You guys have the wrong idea about the wedding. I was just paid to take care of him.” Damien looked up at me, his eyes dark. I met his gaze squarely. “And don’t bother calling me a sister,” I told him. “Let’s just be strangers.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “404843”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was the only college student Providence Hollow had produced in a century. My parents were dying of cancer, but to save every penny for my tuition, they refused to go to the hospital even once. When my little brother accidentally bumped into the piggy bank my mom had been religiously filling for me, she beat him so severely he couldn’t get out of bed for three days. To scrape together my tuition fees, the entire town pooled their resources, emptying their life savings down to the last dime. Everyone said I was the pride of Providence Hollow. Unmatched and deeply loved. In the dead of countless nights, I secretly swore to myself that I would remember exactly what they had all done to me. So, the day I received my acceptance letter to Harvard, I took out all my savings and treated the entire town to a massive feast. A literal last supper. Looking at their twisted, contorted corpses scattered across the floor, tears streamed down my face as I knelt down and pressed my forehead to the blood-soaked floor three times. 01 The air was thick with the pungent stench of poison and the heavy metallic tang of blood. The sickening smell hit me right in the back of the throat. When the police sirens wailed outside, I was in the middle of inspecting the final body. It was Old Man Miller. The man who, when I was a little girl, always used to give me candy. He hadn’t drank much of the spiked water, so the poison was acting slowly. His face, wrinkled like old tree bark, was tightly scrunched in agonizing pain. “Freeze! Step away from him!” Crack— As the police officer’s roar echoed through the room, I cleanly snapped Old Man Miller’s neck. With that, all ninety-eight residents of Providence Hollow—excluding myself—were dead. Not a single survivor. “Put your hands in the air! Hands behind your head! Do not resist!” Officers swarmed the room, surrounding me, the barrels of their guns locked squarely on my chest. I raised my hands, admiring my handiwork with a satisfied smile. I made no attempt to resist as the cold steel handcuffs clicked tightly around my wrists. On my way out, I casually kicked the corpses of my parents lying by my feet. “Gemma, why the hell did you do it?” In the interrogation room, the seasoned veteran, Detective Vance, asked me this question for the fifty-eighth time. Watching his grave, hardened expression, I gave a nonchalant shrug. “Detective, I already told you. I was doing society a favor. “Those old hags and geezers were useless alive anyway. They were just draining state resources. I took them out. Doesn’t that count as community service?” “You take this seriously right now!” The young rookie taking notes, Officer Davies, couldn’t stomach my attitude and slammed his hand on the table, barking at me. Detective Vance flipped through the thick stack of files in his hands, his face growing darker by the second. “Do you have any idea that your parents had cancer, but to save money for your education, they refused to get medical treatment even once?” “Oh?” I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Wow, I really didn’t know that. But whatever, it doesn’t matter. They were going to die from the cancer eventually anyway. That’s an even bigger waste of resources. Rather than waiting for them to slowly die, it’s better that I stepped up as a good citizen and put them out of their misery early.” “And your grandmother! To ensure you had a comfortable life at an Ivy League school, she cashed out her burial fund just to pay for your books.” “Ugh, don’t even bring her up.” My face darkened, showing visible annoyance. “That old bat hoarded money for years, pinching pennies, and she only handed me two hundred bucks. What, was she tossing spare change to a beggar?” Detective Vance choked on his own breath, completely taken aback by my brazen sense of entitlement. His face looked like he had just swallowed a fly. I let out a yawn and decided to finish his line of questioning for him. “I know what you’re going to say next. You’re going to say the Mayor, Old Man Miller, and Mrs. Higgins all did me favors, right? Yeah, well, I figured they’d be lonely in hell, so I sent them down together to keep each other company. “Tell me, Detective. Aren’t I considerate?” “Enough!” Officer Davies slammed his hands onto the desk so hard he snapped his pen in half. “Gemma! Did all that elite education go straight to the gutter?! These people were your benefactors! Your own flesh and blood! And you sit here and laugh about massacring them? You are worse than an animal!” He stood up furiously, spitting on the floor in disgust. If he hadn’t retained the last shred of his professional restraint as a cop, he probably would have lunged across the table and strangled me. But despite his fury, I wasn’t scared in the slightest. “Officer, why are you so angry? If you’re that upset about it, you can go down there and keep them company too.” “You—!” The young cop’s face flushed a violent crimson. His chest heaved rapidly before he finally lost it and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. “I can’t interrogate her! Bring someone else in! This psycho makes my skin crawl!” I curled my lip. My absolute refusal to show remorse had dragged the interrogation into another dead end. But the older detective, Vance, still refused to give up. He tapped his fingertips against the metal table, his eagle-like eyes staring unblinkingly into mine. “Everything happens for a reason. Every effect has a cause. Gemma, if you confess the real truth right now, there might be a chance for you to plead out and get a reduced sentence.” “A reduced sentence?” I looked at his dead-serious face and couldn’t hold back a scoff, looking at him like he was an absolute idiot. “Hey, Detective. Do they not test IQs at the police academy anymore? I murdered nearly a hundred people. And you’re sitting here trying to sell me a plea deal? Are you stupid?” “You’re a lost cause!” Detective Vance finally hit his breaking point, his face turning an ugly shade of green as he stormed out and slammed the door. Two down. Tch. How boring. 02 When the heavy door to the interrogation room opened again, three hours had passed. This time, alongside the police, they brought a familiar face. My high school homeroom teacher, Miss Clara Evans. I thought she would look at me with the same deep disgust everyone else had. I didn’t expect that the moment she saw me, her eyes would well up with tears. “Gemma… how could you do something like this?” She rushed forward, throwing her arms around me, sobbing uncontrollably. “Is there some secret behind all of this? Is there something they did to you? Sweetheart, what pain are you hiding in your heart? Tell me, please? I refuse to believe you would do something like this for no reason.” Listening to her choked, sobbing voice, my face remained entirely blank. I lifted my eyes toward the intimidating, unfamiliar man standing in the doorway and gave a mocking grin. “What, you realized everyone who actually knew me is dead, so you went and dragged my teacher down here? The hard approach didn’t work, so you’re trying to play good cop?” The man’s dark eyes were unreadable as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “My name is Arthur Sterling. Deputy Chief of Investigations. The societal impact of this case is massive, and the nature of the crime is exceptionally heinous. From this point forward, I am leading your interrogation.” Oh, so they brought in the heavy hitters. I rolled my neck lazily, ignoring the red, chafed skin around my handcuffed wrists. “Hey, Miss Evans. You should probably step out.” Miss Evans froze, her eyes red as she stood up. Sterling tapped his pen against the metal desk. The rhythmic sound echoed like a judge’s gavel in purgatory. “Gemma, your academic records were flawless. Your behavioral records were perfect. Your teachers and peers all gave you the highest possible praise. “Furthermore, your psychological evaluations show zero abnormalities. You have no anti-social tendencies. So when you tell us you committed a mass murder for absolutely no reason… I don’t buy it.” He narrowed his eyes, his sharp gaze practically piercing straight through my chest. But since I hadn’t blinked while poisoning an entire town, I certainly wasn’t going to be intimidated by a cop. “I thought the police were supposed to deal in evidence? If you think I’m lying, go find the proof. I’ve already told you everything there is to tell. I was just doing society a favor.” “Gemma, this isn’t right! You were such a good girl at school, why would you—” “Shut up!” I barked sharply, violently cutting off Clara Evans’s sentence. “I don’t need you speaking for me! Get out!” She jumped, terrified by the bloodshot, manic look in my eyes. Her lips trembled for several seconds before Sterling gave her a subtle nod. Weeping silently, she walked out of the room. Watching her back disappear through the door, my chaotic emotions slowly began to level out. When I shifted my gaze back, I realized Arthur Sterling was staring at me intently, as if refusing to miss a single micro-expression flitting across my face. “A model student with no criminal history and a perfect academic record suddenly commits a mass extermination.” He pulled several sheets of paper from a manila folder. They were sketches—drawings of my posture and facial expressions from different angles during Vance’s earlier interrogation. “I have to admit, you possess a psychological resilience and anti-interrogation awareness that is incredibly unnatural for someone your age. “But human micro-expressions don’t lie. “Gemma. You are lying.” The absolute certainty in his voice and the calculated confidence in his eyes made it clear he thought he had me entirely figured out. I found it laughable. “Deputy Chief, if someone as arrogant as you can make it to the top of investigations, the state police force must really be scraping the barrel.” Sterling wasn’t provoked by my sarcasm. He leaned forward. “Tell me I’m wrong.” “Alright. You guessed it.” The new note-taking officer sitting beside him clearly didn’t expect me to fold that fast. He froze in shock. I glanced at the ticking clock on the wall, then back at Sterling. “I know you’re the one pulling the strings here. If you agree to one condition, I will tell you the absolute truth.” “You’re a mass murderer! Do you honestly think you have the right to negotiate?! Deputy Chief Sterling, this girl is definitely plotting something. Do not agree to this!” Sterling raised an eyebrow, ignoring the furious note-taker beside him. He stayed silent for a moment before looking up at me. “Tell me what it is. If you’re asking for a reduced sentence, the answer is no.” I smiled. If I was afraid of dying, I wouldn’t have killed them in the first place. “I don’t want a reduced sentence. I just want to go outside and take a look.” 03 I told Sterling I wanted to go to the observation deck of the Apex Tower, the tallest skyscraper in the city. They debated internally for two hours, but eventually, they agreed. Even though I would be handcuffed the entire time, it felt like a brief, fleeting moment of freedom. But I never expected the chaos that erupted the second we walked out the front doors of the precinct. The station was completely surrounded by an enraged mob of the public. The moment they saw me step outside, they looked like they wanted to tear me apart and eat me alive. “Look! It’s the ungrateful psycho!” That single shout sent a tidal wave of fury through the crowd. People immediately started hurling whatever they had in their hands straight at me. Even with the police struggling to maintain a barricade, I was bombarded by rotten eggs, spoiled food, and trash. The disgusting stench exploded across my clothes and face. “You little monster! How dare you even show your face?! Kill her! Kill the animal!” “Officers, you can’t let her live! Putting a bullet in her would be an insult to the bullet! She deserves to be tied to cars and ripped apart in the streets!” “Do you see this?” Sterling asked. “Your crime has caused a massive societal uproar. There are tens of thousands of people out there right now who want you dead. Even knowing that, do you still want to go out there?” I calmly wiped a streak of raw egg yolk off my cheek and looked at him. “I do.” He frowned, clearly failing to understand my bizarre persistence. “Everyone, move!” Someone in the mob roared, and the chaotic crowd immediately parted to form a narrow path. Before I could even register what was happening, a bucket of unidentified, putrid liquid was hurled directly at my face. The suffocating, stinging stench of feces and urine instantly saturated the air. The person who threw it was a teenage boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen. He held an empty, filthy bucket in his hands, his face twisted in vicious righteousness. “Someone like you just being alive is polluting the air we breathe! Allow me to give you a wash!” The crowd went dead silent for a split second before erupting into deafening cheers and applause. Surrounded by their praise, the boy’s chest puffed out in pride. He looked like a war hero who had just won a glorious battle. Meanwhile, I stood there, dripping with raw egg, spoiled soup, and a mixture of human waste. I smelled so foul that I felt utterly disconnected from the rest of the world. Watching the boy’s triumphant, arrogant face, I suddenly lost all desire to go to the city. “Forget it. Let’s go back inside.” I turned my head and looked at Sterling, who had instinctively stepped back to avoid the splash zone. I didn’t miss the brief flash of confusion in his eyes. “I originally just wanted to see it. I wanted to see what this big, beautiful city that everyone desperately tries to claw their way into actually looked like. But seeing these people right now… I suddenly realized it’s really nothing special.” I pushed a strand of filth-soaked hair behind my ear, desperately trying to cling to my last shred of dignity. “So, I have no interest in seeing it anymore. “Let’s go back inside, Deputy Chief.” 04 Because I was a high-risk mass murderer, my handcuffs couldn’t be removed. Combined with the fact that everyone in the precinct was deeply disgusted by me, absolutely no one was willing to help me wash off the human waste. Except for one person: Clara Evans. She hadn’t left. Instead, she volunteered to help clean me up. Right now, acting as though she possessed no sense of smell whatsoever, she scrubbed me meticulously from head to toe. Watching her, I gave a hollow, sneering laugh. “Miss Evans, why are you always so obsessed with sticking your nose in other people’s business?” She didn’t answer. She just stayed silent and continued wiping the grime off my arms. A few female janitors passing by couldn’t stomach the sight. They stopped and glared at me with pure venom. “Miss Evans, why are you bothering to help that ungrateful little psychopath? Her kind doesn’t remember anything good anyone ever does for her. For what she did, dying a hundred times wouldn’t be enough!” “Yeah, exactly! She deserves to rot and die covered in her own filth!” I thought Clara Evans would nod along and join in their disgust. Instead, she threw the washcloth directly onto the wet floor. A rare flash of genuine anger appeared on her usually gentle face. “Is the case closed?” “What?” “I asked you: is the case closed?” The janitors exchanged confused glances. Clara Evans continued, her voice sharp. “You work in a police station. You are surrounded by the law every single day. Do you really lack the most basic understanding of the legal system? Even if my student is guilty, the law will judge her and pass a sentence. It is not your place to stand here and gossip like vultures.” The women stayed silent for a second before bursting into mocking laughter, looking at Clara like she was insane. “Wow. I actually thought this woman was normal. Turns out she’s an idiot trying to save a rabid dog.” “Whatever. Why are we even talking to her? It’s not like the psycho appreciates it.” “Guess we were just being nosy. Makes sense, though. What kind of ‘good teacher’ raises a mass murderer anyway?” Rolling their eyes, the women walked out of the washroom. I glanced at the back of Clara Evans’s head, fully prepared to throw out a few more sarcastic insults. Instead, she silently walked behind me. Her long, slender fingers gently combed through my wet hair. She took the small, floral hair tie she always wore on her wrist and expertly twisted my hair into a neat braid. She wasn’t bothered by my terrible attitude in the slightest. “A teacher for a day is a parent for a lifetime. Whether you acknowledge me as your teacher or not, the fact that things ended up this way means I failed to teach you properly.” My allotted shower time was short, but she continued to murmur to me softly. She talked about little, mundane things from high school. Tiny things. She even remembered the time in biology lab when I managed to nurse a dying, withered sapling back to life. So annoying. “Gemma, time’s up.” It wasn’t until a police officer knocked on the door that her hands finally stopped. Wearing cold, heavy shackles once more, I began walking toward the interrogation room—my final judgment. “Gemma.” Clara Evans suddenly called out to me. “There’s one last thing I want to say to you.” I didn’t stop walking. I just thought to myself: God, this woman is so annoying. I’m about to get the death penalty, and she still wants to give me a boring moral lecture. “Happy birthday.” My entire body violently stiffened. “Gemma. Happy 18th birthday, sweetheart.” Her voice, laced with the gentle, quiet warmth of a peaceful life, acted like a razor-sharp sword, slicing directly through the impenetrable walls around my heart. The officer escorting me paused, shooting her a strange look. “Such a nice lady. How the hell did she end up teaching a monster like you? So weird.” I turned a deaf ear to his muttering. It wasn’t until a hot drop of liquid splashed against the back of my handcuffed wrists that I snapped back to reality. I closed my eyes and mocked myself internally. Looks like I lost after all. The soft approach… it really does work. “Hey, Officer,” I whispered, aggressively wiping my tears away on my shoulder. I tugged lightly at his uniform. “Take me to Deputy Chief Sterling. I’m ready to tell the truth.” When the other officers heard that the toughest, most uncrackable suspect in the precinct was finally willing to talk, they secretly crowded around the observation window to watch. Even though there were only two people in the room with me—Sterling and the note-taker—I knew there were dozens of eyes watching from behind the two-way glass. The note-taking officer grumbled in annoyance. “What kind of ‘hidden truth’ could there possibly be? She’s just a pure psychopath. I bet you anything she’s just going to spit out more sick lies.” Despite his complaints, his eyes remained glued to me. I looked up at the ceiling and suddenly let out a laugh. It started as a low, quiet chuckle and quickly escalated into hysterical, manic laughter. Soon, involuntary tears were streaming down my face. Just as everyone in the room became convinced I had completely lost my mind… I opened my mouth and dropped a sentence that shattered everyone’s reality. 05 “Hunter is my son.”

I crouched by the entrance of the local ice cream parlor, grabbing the arm of the man rushing past me. “Hey, the sundaes are buy-one-get-one! Want to split an order with me?” He lowered his phone and his gaze briefly swept over the banner advertising the “Couples Special.” “Oh,” I said. “Are we getting back together then?” Caleb narrowed his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. “No can do. I’m spoken for.” “I’ve got a new girl,” he added. “She gets pretty jealous.” I froze. He turned away. “Actually, pack the ice cream up to go. She loves it.” 1 I still hadn’t fully processed what was happening. The cheerful barista had already boxed up the two sundaes. “You two make a lovely couple. Enjoy your evening!” she beamed. Caleb’s expression remained flat. He took his sundae and started walking. His sleek black Range Rover was parked right by the curb. It was sweltering out, so I had been squatting by the entrance of the fruit shop next door, mooching their AC while licking my ice cream. Before getting into his car, he threw me a look that was half-amused, half-mocking. “Need a ride, ‘girlfriend’?” I glanced at his passenger seat. It was decked out with a fluffy pink seat cover and a cute stuffed animal. It practically screamed that it belonged to someone else. “No, I’m good,” I mumbled slowly. “I live close by…” Before I could even finish my sentence, he sped off. “Hey, hey! Don’t block the door!” the shop owner yelled. “Ah, sorry.” My legs were aching from squatting so long. As I stood up, I lost my balance. The sundae in my hand hit the pavement with a splat. Ugh, what a waste. A whole boyfriend traded for a dropped ice cream. I smacked my lips, disappointed, and turned to walk home. My studio apartment was simple and clean. I quietly took down the old, framed photo hanging on the wall. In it, a young man with crinkling eyes was smiling brightly, holding a girl’s hand like it was his most prized possession. In stark contrast, the girl’s face was blank, almost painfully cold. I stared at it for a few seconds longer, then tossed it into the trash can. Tsk. No wonder I looked so awful when I tried to smile. No wonder he broke up with me all those years ago. “Meow.” The stray calico I’d picked up rubbed against my legs. I popped open a can of wet food for her. I’d bought it yesterday during a “buy two, get one free” sale at the supermarket. When you’re used to being broke, missing out on a deal physically hurts. I almost regretted not asking him for a breakup fee back then. Just then, an unknown number called my phone. I answered. It was Caleb. His voice was still as cold as ice. “If we’re getting back together, aren’t you going to add me back on Instagram?” “Do you know how annoying it is to call you?” I quietly muttered an “oh” and was about to say something else. But then, a woman’s sweet, whiny voice drifted through the receiver. “Caleb, I’m hungry…” He hung up immediately. The dial tone echoed in my ear. Honestly, that whole “getting back together” thing was a joke… I wanted to tell him to just forget it. But remembering the voice I just heard, it didn’t feel right to call him back. I typed in his Instagram handle. User not found. His phone number? Also out of service. I slowly hugged my phone and lay back on my bed. Caleb had forgotten that he was the one who deleted me. 2 Later, I remembered to use the phone number from the call to add him as a contact. He accepted the request quickly, but didn’t say a word for half the day. I quietly snooped through the six years of his life since he left. His social media feed was quiet and monotonous. Until last year, when a vibrant girl in a red dress appeared—she looked a lot like I used to. From that day on, Caleb posted more often. His smile wasn’t as blazing as it used to be, but it radiated a quiet, steady happiness. I stared at the screen, a little dazed. Halfway through scrolling, the screen went black. It seemed he suddenly remembered and blocked me. I slowly finished my last bite of instant ramen. I tossed my phone aside and wrapped myself tightly in my blanket. I didn’t sleep a wink all night. For the next few days, it was like both of us had completely forgotten the incident. I prepped my lessons, went to the middle school to teach, fed the cat—my life was a simple two-point line. He was busy with his tech company, flying out for negotiations and meetings. Occasionally, I’d see him on the local news. Caleb Thorne, Tech Prodigy, Rises to Power, Acquires Rival Firms. Whenever Chloe came over, she’d bring groceries. We’d sit on the couch, munching on watermelon, and watch the news together. His success had made a lot of wealthy heiresses eager to throw their hats in the ring. “Mr. Thorne, you’ve rejected all proposals for an arranged marriage. May we ask why?” a bold reporter asked on TV. Caleb narrowed his eyes, his demeanor composed yet aloof. But a fleeting, almost imperceptible warmth flashed in his eyes. “I have a girlfriend.” Everyone assumed it was the girl living in his mansion. Chloe poked me, hesitating before asking, “Didn’t you just say you guys got back together? Is he going to marry you?” “I mean, the way he chased you back in high school… the whole town knew about it.” I stared at the polite, distant man on the screen. I shook my head. I tapped her lightly on the head. “Dummy, who becomes someone’s girlfriend over a scoop of ice cream?” Caleb clearly didn’t care about me at all. “I know, but he was the Caleb who loved you more than anything in the world!” She counted on her fingers. “You guys skipped class together, won stuff at the arcade, had your first kiss.” “Every time you even looked at him, that cold, untouchable guy would come running like an eager puppy.” The memories felt so distant now. “By the way, tell me honestly… did you really dump him because you cheated?” I hummed softly and shook my head truthfully. Chloe fell silent for a moment, then changed the subject. “It’s okay, don’t be sad. It’s not like we’re short on men.” I looked up and said slowly, “I was fine to begin with.” She choked on her words, tied on an apron, and went into the kitchen to cook. “Tsk. I should have known you don’t have a heart. Hurry up and help me.” I thought things would just go back to normal. Until one night, he initiated a text. [Let’s grab dinner tomorrow night.] [I’ll wait for you downstairs.] I had just gotten out of the shower when I saw the message. Right, it had been six years since the breakup. Maybe it was because I was getting older, but I just felt lazy. I was still living in the same small apartment we used to share. After staring at the screen for a while, I finally remembered to decline. [No thanks, I have plans tomorrow.] His reply was brief. [I’m only waiting three minutes.] Cold, distant, and impatient. It hit me then. He was no longer the Caleb who catered to my every whim. But honestly, I really didn’t want to go to that dinner. I thought about it for a moment, then started typing. [Ah, I’m really sorry. I didn’t actually mean anything by it. It was just that the ice cream special was so rare, and it was so hot out…] [And you were the only person on the street I recognized. It would be rude to ask a stranger to split an order, at least we used to date…] [Let’s just drop it. It’s better for everyone.] The more I wrote, the messier it got. I deleted the whole thing. I just sent one sentence. [I was joking about getting back together the other day. Sorry about that.] I sat there holding my phone for a while. He didn’t reply. I sighed. All that bitterness from six years ago… let’s just leave it in the past. 3 I didn’t think much of it. He was probably too lazy to argue and just blocked me again. But when I came home from teaching that afternoon… I ran right into Caleb at the school gates. He was leaning lazily against his car, drawing a crowd of staring schoolgirls. “Is that Caleb Thorne? Wow, he’s so handsome!” “Yeah, he was the state valedictorian eight years ago!” Caleb was staring blankly at the oak trees on campus. I quietly tried to walk past him, but he called out. “Maya.” “Long time no see. Turns out you’ve been teaching at Lincoln High this whole time.” Lincoln High was our alma mater. A mocking glint appeared in his eyes. “What, feeling nostalgic? Couldn’t bear to leave?” I blinked, letting out a confused “ah.” “Yeah, I couldn’t bear to leave. They offered me double the salary.” Caleb’s expression darkened. “Hmph. Still as obsessed with money as ever, I see.” I honestly couldn’t read his expression. He pulled open the car door and got in. “Get in.” I said slowly, “I really can’t go…” Caleb calmly rolled down the window. “The seafood boil is half off today.” I asked in a small, uncertain voice, “Can I get it to go?” He looked like he was so annoyed he was going to laugh. “Whatever you want.” I quickly climbed into the backseat. He was driving a different car today, a Porsche Cayenne. It looked barely used, and the passenger seat was free of all those pink accessories. Caleb drove in total silence. I leaned against the window, neither of us speaking. Honestly, I didn’t understand why he came looking for me. I clearly told him it was a joke, and he didn’t seem like the type to cling to the past. He caught my eye in the rearview mirror. Looking irritated, he pulled out a cigarette. My eyes flickered. I opened my mouth to speak. He was holding the cigarette pack and accidentally pressed a button on the dashboard. A sweet, playful female voice filled the car. “My dearest Caleb, are you in a bad mood again?” “Don’t smoke, okay? Let me sing you a song.” “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” I froze, and he seemed startled too. He instinctively put the cigarette back. A warm, incredibly soft smile spread across his face. It was almost frightening how happy he looked. Leaving me sitting there, truly and completely uncomfortable. We arrived quickly. It was a casual seafood joint by the pier. Caleb went inside to order, and I leaned against the railing, enjoying the ocean breeze. A drunk, overweight man stumbled over and slung an arm around my shoulder. “Hey there, gorgeous. Where’s your boyfriend?” I quietly pushed his arm off and took a step back. The guy was persistent, continuing to harass me. I caught Caleb’s eye from a distance. He just stood there, watching quietly. It wasn’t until a few men nearby couldn’t stand it anymore and stepped in to stop the guy… That Caleb finally sauntered over. The drunk guy seemed to recognize him and sobered up instantly. “Mr. Thorne, I didn’t know she was with you, I was just…” Caleb smiled and patted the guy on the shoulder. “You can mess with her. It has nothing to do with me.” I stared at him. He shrugged, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “What, I said we’re getting back together, I didn’t say I had to treat you well.” With that, Caleb grabbed the tray of seafood and beers and walked away. 4 He leaned back in his wicker chair. I stood there, refusing to sit. “Eat something first. The to-go boxes won’t hold all of this.” I finally felt like something was off and asked quietly. “Mr. Thorne, did you read my message?” He looked at me calmly, his tone careless. “What message? I don’t have the free time to stare at your chat window all day.” I still didn’t move. He grew impatient. “Are you going to eat or what?” I looked down. Everything on the table was what I usually loved. And I was really hungry. I reached out and tried a skewer. It was so spicy that tears instantly sprang to my eyes. “Cough, cough.” “Doesn’t it taste good?” He watched me with unabashed scrutiny. “Oh, I forgot. This is how I like it.” “In the past, I always went along with your bland food. Tonight, you can just deal with it.” I stayed quiet, rinsing the food in my water glass before eating it. But it only seemed to get spicier. Aside from the heat, the seafood was fresh and tender. He squinted at me for a moment, then raised a hand to call the waiter. “Bring another order of everything on the table. Make it mild this time.” He paused. “And grab a slice of strawberry mousse.” I pulled out a wet wipe and said slowly. “Never mind. I want to go home.” Caleb raised an eyebrow. “What, is that all it takes to make you feel wronged?” It wasn’t that bad, really. It was just that the spice was burning my stomach, and that burning sensation was slowly creeping into my chest. It felt incredibly uncomfortable. I just wanted to go home immediately. I couldn’t even be bothered to pack up the leftovers. He stood up, pushing the plates away. “Fine. Let’s go. I’ll take you.” I opened my mouth to decline. As if anticipating my refusal… He added, “We’re in the marina district. It’s ten miles from your place.” “And you have no sense of direction. Do you want to walk until dawn?” Caleb naturally grabbed my hand. I struggled uncomfortably, but just like in the past, he held on tighter. I couldn’t pull away, so I just gave up. As we were walking out… I pulled out my phone, planning to snap a picture of the restaurant to share the hidden gem with Chloe later. Caleb, who had been staring off into space, suddenly lunged. He swatted the phone out of my hand. “Don’t take pictures!” His voice was loud, instantly drawing the attention of everyone nearby. They all turned to look at us. He said coldly, “If I see a picture of us online, I have ways to ruin you.” I was stunned. It took me a moment to process what he said. My phone hit the ground, the screen shattering completely. I bent down to pick it up, wiping the dirt off the screen. It was a shame, really. It was a brand new phone. I said slowly. “I didn’t want a picture of us, and I certainly wasn’t going to post anything online.” “I just thought the food was good and wanted to bring a friend next time.” 5 A flicker of guilt flashed through Caleb’s eyes, quickly replaced by his usual coldness. He pursed his lips. “I’ll buy you a new one.” “That model is old anyway. It’s from last year.” I shook my head quietly. “No need. There’s no reason for you to buy me anything.” “I’ll call a friend to pick me up. Have a good night, Mr. Thorne.” Caleb narrowed his eyes, grabbing my wrist with a cold sneer. “What do you mean, no reason? Weren’t you the one begging to get back together?” I finally realized what he was talking about and let out an “ah.” I waved my shattered phone. “Didn’t you read my message? I was really just joking.” “What are you talking about?” He frowned and pulled out his phone. My messages were on ‘Do Not Disturb’. It was pretty obvious who had done that. I said apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I really just wanted the discount on the ice cream. If I made you misunderstand, I feel terrible…” “Maya!” His face darkened, cutting me off. He practically gritted his teeth. “So, it was all for a scoop of ice cream?” I blinked, confused. “Yeah.” “…Fine. Maya, you are really something.” He let out a few cold laughs. He kicked a nearby tree hard, sending a shower of oak leaves raining down on me. “Do you have any idea how much I want to strangle you every time I see that blank, indifferent look on your face?” He seemed to finally explode. “You’re an emotional cripple! Who else but me would ever put up with you?” “Don’t regret this.” Caleb walked away, exuding a freezing chill. I stood there, frozen. The people walking by were giving me weird looks and whispering. “So she’s emotionally stunted? She doesn’t even know how to love someone.” “Her poor boyfriend. Dealing with a selfish, cold partner… no wonder he was so mad.” “Ugh, people with that kind of mental issue shouldn’t even date. They just ruin other people’s lives. She belongs in a psych ward…” I looked down at the ground. Caleb was angry again. The breakup six years ago flashed in my mind. He was just as furious and desperate back then. “Maya, why don’t you ever say you love me!” “Say it! Why am I always the one trying? Why do you always look like you couldn’t care less about me!” “Did you want to break up this whole time?!” He slammed his fist on the table, loud and hoarse. We were in a crowded place. The broken glass cut his hand, staining it red, and his eyes were bloodshot. I was genuinely terrified. I didn’t know how to respond. Seeing him like that, I was so scared. Memories from my childhood came rushing back. I covered my ears and screamed. “Then let’s just break up!” As soon as those words left my mouth, everything finally went quiet. But later… even though I took all my medication, it didn’t help. When I finally went looking for him, he already had someone new. Someone who actually knew how to love him. I didn’t know when, but a light drizzle started falling from the sky. I lied to him. No one was coming to pick me up. I quietly knocked on the door of the clinic next door. “Doctor, can you cure emotional detachment?” A man in a white coat happened to be leaning against the doorframe. He glanced at me and spoke lazily. “I guarantee a cure. Give me three sentences, and you’ll be fixed.” I widened my eyes. He coughed. “First sentence: I love you.” Me: “???” I took a closer look at the man in front of me. He had pale skin, a tall, lean build, and both hands stuffed in his coat pockets. He had a cold, aloof face, but his eyes shone like stars. They were bright and incredibly gentle. I was a little distracted. He was almost too beautiful. I was worried I’d stumbled into some shady host club… 6 The head doctor next to me was still enthusiastically winking at me. I silently turned to leave. “Hey, miss!” He flashed his medical ID. Graduated with a Master’s from a top medical school. Dr. Liam Hayes. I vaguely remembered seeing him on the news, doing volunteer work in Africa, curing tropical fevers or something. Well, he was a famous doctor, it seemed. “My name is Liam. Nice to meet you, Ms. Weaver.” His eyes crinkled as he extended a long, elegant hand. I shook it hesitantly. “How do you know my name?” He rubbed his nose. “You guys were pretty loud out there. I accidentally overheard.” I looked down. “But don’t worry, we doctors have strict professional ethics.” “Patient confidentiality is guaranteed.” He quickly explained. I said flatly, “No need to keep it a secret. It’s not a big deal anyway.” With that, I turned to walk away again. “I can really help you!” “Um, if you don’t want to talk about it, do you want to grab some crawfish?” “…” This weird doctor was a total chatterbox. His thought process was all over the place. “Why don’t you come inside and sit for a bit, wait out the rain?” Liam opened the door for me and handed me an umbrella. The rain was pouring now, splashing right in my face. I didn’t take it. He clicked his tongue and brushed the raindrops off his shoulder. Just as I was about to step out the door… Liam called out, “I can help you win him back.” In that instant, my tears suddenly started flowing, mixing with the rain. I didn’t know how long I’d been holding them back. The tears burst out like a broken dam. I couldn’t stop them, no matter how hard I tried. My whole body was shaking, and I was practically choking on my sobs. My fingernails dug deeply into my palms. “What does it matter to you?” I turned to look at him, feeling anger for the first time in a long time. “I don’t need to win him back! There’s no chance for us! He hates me!” Liam seemed stunned. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.” “…I just wanted to help,” he said quietly. Just a stranger. I calmed down quickly. I wiped my eyes and tried to make a joke. “Is this your Hippocratic oath in action? Saving the dying?” He smiled too, nodding. “Then please, tell me, is there any hope for me?” I dropped the umbrella and slowly walked back inside. “Does someone like me, who can’t feel emotions, even deserve to live in this world?” “I don’t know joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness. I don’t know how to connect with people…” Liam turned on the heater and poured me a cup of hot tea. “I disappoint them. I let down the people around me. I’m disappointed in myself.” My throat hitched. “They’re right. I’m a cold, unfeeling monster.” I talked faster and faster, spilling more and more, not even knowing what I was saying. By the end, my voice was shaking. His gorgeous eyes curved into crescents. He let out a soft laugh. “You make it sound like a terminal illness.” “It’s nothing, miss. That’s hardly a sickness.” “And I’m a miracle worker! There’s nothing I can’t do…” He started going off-topic again. “Like this one time in Africa, a little girl had terrible ear pain. Everyone did all these tests, thinking it was early-stage leprosy. But I was the one who finally realized she just had a bug in her ear…” I silently stared at the ID badge on his chest. “But you’re a dentist. How are you going to fix my heart?” Liam patted my shoulder confidently. “It’s all connected.” “Just like an earache and a toothache.” “…” He smiled like a sly cat. “Let me teach you how to date.” I frantically waved my hands. What if I ran away again? Liam laced his fingers together and sat in front of me. He started to look serious. “You’ve only had one relationship, right?” I nodded. “Then why do you think that one experience defines your whole life?” I paused and looked up at him. “But in my youth, Caleb was the best person in the world to me.” He stopped smiling.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “404844”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I became a stay-at-home mom, my husband gave me only $200 a month for household expenses. He expected me to use that $200 to buy groceries, cook, pay the utility bills, and cover the entire family’s expenses. He even had the audacity to say that $200 was too generous. Since the man at home wouldn’t provide, naturally, I found other men who would pay me. Once my wallet was full, I rightfully started dressing up, buying premium skincare products, and enrolling in high-end training courses. Faced with my husband’s suspicions, I casually told him: “I bought it with the $200 you gave me!” But he panicked: “$200 isn’t even enough for groceries! Where are you actually getting the money for this high-end stuff?” Hilarious. Turns out, he knew perfectly well that $200 was nowhere near enough! 01 My name is Emma. After dating my college boyfriend, Mark, for a few years, we naturally got married and eventually had our daughter, Mia. Since we had no one to help with the baby, Mark talked it over with me, suggesting I quit my job to become a full-time stay-at-home mom. I was reluctant. “I want to work and earn money too. Why don’t I just keep my job and we hire a full-time nanny?” Mark reasoned with me: “A good postpartum doula or nanny these days charges five or six thousand a month, which is way more than your salary. We’d be losing money! “Besides, can you really trust a stranger with our baby?” I wavered. Mark went on to say that his only goal in making money was to give me and Mia a good life. He promised to hand over his entire paycheck to me—his “boss”—and swore he’d never mistreat me. Since he was willing to surrender his salary, I didn’t have much else to argue about. “Alright then.” So, Mark became the breadwinner, and I managed the home. We lived like this for three years. Stay-at-home moms don’t earn a paycheck, so my daily routine involved meticulous budgeting and finding ways to save. One night, while I was taking advantage of Black Friday sales to stock up on household essentials, Mark walked by. He glanced at my phone screen and shouted, “You just spent $400 on toilet paper?!” “We’re not exactly rich! How could you blow that much money on toilet paper?!” I didn’t expect him to freak out like that, so I calmly explained, “It’s not just toilet paper. It’s tampons and pads for me, and baby wipes for Mia. This is a full year’s supply for our family of three.” Mark was incredibly stubborn. “You still shouldn’t drop $400 all at once! Do you think we just have money to burn?” I found his tone highly offensive. “You have to compare the unit prices! This is the lowest price of the year. Everything is 50% off. Buying in bulk now saves us half the cost compared to buying it month by month!” In the past three years, Mark had never bothered to look at our household expenses. He had no idea how much bulk buying saved us, so he just stubbornly insisted I was wasting money. I finally lost my patience. “Look, since you manage the outside and I manage the inside, how the household budget is spent is my business, right?” I brushed past him and went to Mia’s room to put her to bed. I thought the issue was over. I never expected that after I coaxed our daughter to sleep, Mark would march up to me with a dead-serious look on his face: “Emma, I think we need to have a serious talk about household expenses.” 02 I was completely baffled. “Is there a problem with our expenses?” Mark made about $8,000 a month. Our regular expenses were $4,000, the mortgage was $2,000, leaving us $2,000 to save every month. To ensure Mia had a college fund, I locked those savings into a high-yield CD. We weren’t exactly wealthy, but I thought we were doing pretty well. Mark shook his head. “I trusted you too much before. That’s why I handed over my paycheck and never asked how you spent it. “If I hadn’t accidentally seen it today, I wouldn’t have known how reckless you are. Blowing $400 on paper products!” He still wasn’t over it? I was speechless. “I’ve told you several times, that $400 is the total price for a whole year’s worth of hygiene products. Take the tampons and pads, for example. If I buy them every month, it costs me close to $60 a month. But buying a year’s supply at once only costs $300 total.” Mark kept shaking his head. “I don’t care. You lie around the house all day and still spend money like water. Do you think it’s easy for me to earn that paycheck? “Starting today, I’m not giving you my debit card anymore. I’m only giving you $200 at a time.” The way he said it made it sound like I did absolutely nothing at home. Did he think the hot meals he came home to and the clean clothes on his back just fell from the sky? And what exactly was $200 going to cover? My face instantly darkened. Seeing my expression change, Mark quickly added, “Once you spend the $200, just ask me for more! It’s not like I’m cutting you off.” He put on an exaggerated look of hurt. “I’m just trying to teach you how to be frugal. I work so hard to make money; the least you could do is show some sympathy for me!” Of course I cared about Mark’s hard work. So I reluctantly nodded. “Fine. Let’s do it your way for now.” Mark happily Venmo’d me $200. “Honey, I knew you loved me the most! “Take this $200 for now. When it’s gone, I’ll send you more!” I originally thought, We’re a family. It doesn’t matter whose account the money is in. Besides, I just had to ask him when I ran out. But I quickly realized how wrong I was. 03 The next day, the local dairy delivery service called me. “Hey Emma, your milk subscription expires next week. Would you like to renew?” To make sure we got fresh, high-quality protein, I had set up a daily organic milk delivery for the three of us. Three bottles a day cost about $150 a month. I wanted to renew it, but when I went to pay, it showed insufficient funds. I only had $200, and I had already paid a $60 water bill that morning. I was short. Mark was in the bathroom. I knocked on the door. “Honey, transfer me some money. I need to pay for the milk delivery.” Dead silence from inside. I knocked harder a few more times, but Mark acted like he was completely deaf. I realized he was ignoring me on purpose. I started to get angry, but the delivery rep was still on the phone waiting for my answer. Left with no choice, I just paid $50. “Just renew it for one person for this month.” The adults could skip the milk, but Mia was still little and needed the calcium. Just as I finished paying, Mark walked out. He peeked at my payment screen and put on an exaggerated look of pleasant surprise. “You only spent $50 on milk this time? “See? I told you giving you $200 at a time would work! You’re already learning how to save money!” I laughed out of pure frustration. He clearly heard me knocking and asking for money, but he deliberately ignored me. And now he was praising me for saving money? I only ordered enough for Mia! Of course it was cheaper! “I didn’t have enough money, and you didn’t—” Mark suddenly cut me off, grabbing his breakfast from the table as he headed for the door. “Alright honey, gotta run! I’m gonna be late for work!” I stared at the front door in stunned silence, watching him hurry away. It was just a milk subscription. Did he really need to run away like he was dodging a restaurant bill? 04 That afternoon, after paying a $100 electric bill, I only had $40 left in my account. I went to the supermarket. Vegetables and a few staples cost me $15. I had $25 left. I walked up to the butcher counter, remembering Mark saying he wanted beef stew for dinner. There was a beautiful cut of chuck roast left. The scale read 3 pounds. $28. I was short by three dollars. The payment declined. I quickly texted Mark: [Honey, send me some money. I don’t have enough for the groceries.] Two minutes passed. No reply. The butcher stood there, arms crossed, waiting for me to pay. I smiled awkwardly at him and sent Mark more messages. [Hurry up, the cashier is waiting!] [I’m not joking, I need it right now! I’ve been standing at the counter for a while!] Mark never replied. Meanwhile, a customer behind me eyed the meat. “Are you getting that chuck roast? If not, I’ll take it.” I felt even more humiliated. “Yes, I am. Just a second, please!” Thinking Mark just hadn’t seen the texts, I called him. The phone rang exactly once before he declined the call. That meant he was staring right at his phone! So why wasn’t he replying? I was dumbfounded. The butcher finally spoke up. “Ma’am, you’ve been standing here forever holding up the line. I can’t sell it to you. The guy behind you wants it.” It was a prime cut of meat; of course, it was in high demand. The man behind me took the meat and sneered lightly, “If you can’t afford it, don’t stand in line wasting everyone’s time.” My face instantly burned bright red. 05 When Mark got home that evening, he took one look at the dinner table, and his smug smile immediately dropped. “Where’s the meat?” he complained. “I told you I wanted beef stew! Why didn’t you make it?” I glared at him with a stony face. “I texted and called you this afternoon. Why did you pretend you didn’t see it?” Mark mumbled vaguely, “I was in a meeting. Couldn’t text back.” Seeing that I didn’t buy it, he flipped the script and interrogated me instead. “Can we just eat in peace? Are you going to let me enjoy my dinner or not?” I suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. I didn’t even have the energy to fight with him. I simply told him, “Then send me some more money. The $200 is basically gone. I won’t have enough for groceries tomorrow.” Mark stopped shoveling food into his mouth and shot me a sideways glare. “If I hadn’t come up with this method, I never would have known you could blow through $200 in a single day! At this rate, you’d spend $6,000 a month! “Emma, can you please learn to be a little more frugal? Money doesn’t just fall from the sky. “I’m the only one bringing in a paycheck. I’m under a lot of pressure. Can’t you just make things a little easier for me?!” Being despised by Mark like this was infinitely more humiliating than being mocked by a stranger at the grocery store. I was so angry I lost my appetite. I pulled out my phone and shoved the transaction history in his face. “Look closely! $50 for Mia’s milk, $60 for water, $100 for electricity, $15 for vegetables! I had exactly $25 left! “The beef was $28! I was short by three dollars! Because you ignored my messages, those three missing dollars meant I couldn’t even buy the meat! “Do you have any idea how long I stood at the butcher counter with no money, getting mocked by strangers?!” Remembering the humiliation made my eyes well up with tears of sheer frustration. Mark swallowed his mouthful of rice. “You spent my money, so I’m allowed to say something about it, aren’t I?” As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and transferred the money, looking increasingly impatient. “Whatever, stop giving me that long face. I sent you the money. What else do you want?” A notification popped up. Another $200. But recalling Mark’s words, my chest felt even tighter. 06 After my shower that night, I went to do my skincare routine and realized my serum was completely empty. I carefully tapped the bottom of the bottle, trying desperately to coax out one last drop of the liquid. After I finished, I texted a friend who worked at a beauty counter, asking to order another bottle. She texted back: *”Hey! We actually have a massive promo on the gift sets right now. It’s buy-one-get-one-free for the whole luxury set, only $200! “Buying just the single serum for $80 isn’t worth it!”* I was very tempted, but my account balance was exactly $225. If I bought the set, I’d have to ask Mark for money again tomorrow. For some reason, the thought of asking Mark for money—even for perfectly normal expenses—made my skin crawl with irritation and discomfort. The feeling of holding out my hand and begging for cash was suffocating. I sighed and texted her back: [Just the $80 serum. I’ll pass on the rest.] Mark had showered but didn’t bother wiping down the bathroom. The floor was soaked, and there were even urine stains on the toilet seat. Terrified Mia might slip and fall, I resigned myself to grabbing a mop and cleaning it up. But when I walked back into the bedroom, Mark was holding my phone, glaring at me with furious eyes. “You couldn’t bear to spend $28 to buy me a decent piece of beef, but you have no problem dropping $80 on a tiny bottle of serum for yourself! “No wonder you always complain we don’t have enough money! You’re blowing it all on cosmetics! “If you’re going to be this selfish, fine, Emma. I don’t need to be nice to you anymore! “Starting today, I am only giving you a flat $200 a month for the household! Not a penny more!”

Carter Hayes broke up with me out of nowhere and immediately eloped with a younger girl. Nearing thirty, I was rejected at every blind date my mother set me up on. Five years later, we had a college reunion. They were the picture-perfect, wealthy couple: driving a Mercedes, wearing Arc’teryx jackets, and carrying Louis Vuitton. I, on the other hand, showed up on a bicycle and was immediately isolated in the corner. Until… A busybody intentionally asked, “Chloe, why didn’t your husband come?” I smiled and said, “He’s busy ringing the opening bell at NASDAQ.” 01 I met Carter Hayes the year I first arrived in this city. Right outside the campus gates, I ran into an older couple desperately asking for bus fare. When I refused, they chased me down the street, screaming curses. “You’re so young, yet you have absolutely no heart!” “You heartless little bitch, no man is ever going to want you!” My face flushed crimson, and I was shaking with anger. That was exactly when Carter appeared. A massive group of young frat guys was walking by, right at the peak of their reckless, hot-blooded years, and they immediately shielded me behind them. Carter was the most handsome, most arrogant-looking guy in the pack. He was spinning a Wilson basketball on his finger, wearing limited-edition sneakers. He flashed me a row of white teeth. “You alright, freshman?” Naturally, he quickly found out that I wasn’t a freshman—we were in the same graduating class—but that didn’t stop him from pursuing me. And just like that, we got together. He came from a comfortable, upper-middle-class suburban family. I came from a small, rural Midwestern town. During our sophomore year, Carter took me home to meet his parents. I carried a fruit basket, trailing nervously behind him. But to my surprise, Carter’s mother was incredibly friendly to me. I breathed a sigh of relief. Carter winked at me and whispered, “See? I told you my mom would like you.” I couldn’t hide my happiness. At the time, I didn’t know that his mother didn’t actually like me. She was just lenient because Carter was a boy. It was just a college fling; in her eyes, he wasn’t the one who stood to lose anything. Just like that, we dated all the way to our senior year. The year we graduated, my parents wanted me to move back home. I knew moving back meant I wouldn’t find a decent job. I brought it up with Carter. He grabbed my hand in a panic. “No way, you can’t go back!” “But the cost of living here is too high. I’m not sure I can survive on my own.” Carter pulled me into a tight hug. “It’s fine. I’ll have my dad get you an easy administrative job. I’ll handle the money. All you have to do is focus on being Mrs. Hayes.” In that moment, all my anxiety and hesitation melted away. But I didn’t actually need his dad’s help to find a job. I just wanted a safety net, an option in case I failed. My degree was much more marketable than Carter’s. In the end, Carter went to work as an HR recruiter at his dad’s friend’s company. I went through grueling rounds of interviews and landed a job as a Product Manager at a top-tier tech firm. I stayed in the city. But life isn’t a fairy tale where reaching a milestone guarantees a happily ever after. Acing your finals doesn’t mean you’re set for life. Getting into a good college doesn’t either. Staying with him wasn’t the finish line. Even walking down the aisle or having kids isn’t the absolute end. 02 Regarding marriage. The second year after graduation, my parents urged me to get Carter to make a commitment. I was too embarrassed to push it, afraid of looking desperate, so I brought it up casually as a joke. Carter’s hands paused on his gaming controller, pretending he didn’t hear me. His mother remained friendly, but she never once brought up the topic of a wedding. The fourth year after graduation. My former college roommate asked why we still weren’t married. I forced a lighthearted tone and said, “We’re still young! No need to rush into the grave of romance.” In the blink of an eye. The sixth year after graduation. Also our tenth anniversary. Valentine’s Day. I booked a restaurant with incredible ambiance. Halfway through dinner, I smiled and asked, “Should we… maybe start thinking about getting married?” Under the romantic candlelight, the soft, affectionate look on Carter’s face instantly went ice-cold. He said, “Fine. I’ll go back and talk to my mom.” I exhaled, relieved to have escaped the suffocating awkwardness, and quickly changed the subject. But there was never any follow-up. I asked a few more times, and every time, he looked intensely annoyed. Finally, during an argument sparked by something trivial, he blurted out the truth— “Chloe, my mom refuses to let me marry you!” I froze. Yet, deep down, I wasn’t even that surprised. The argument came to a screeching halt. Carter realized what he had just said. But he didn’t try to take it back. He didn’t say another word and even pulled out his phone to scroll. My anger wasn’t hot like fire; it was more like freezing lake water creeping up my body. Suffocating and bone-chilling. “So, you never planned on marrying me at all. Did you?” Carter irritably rubbed his temples. Acting like he had nothing left to lose, he snapped, “We were doing perfectly fine dating like this, weren’t we? Why the hell do we have to get married?” “What does a piece of paper even do?” “Besides, your career is peaking right now. Wouldn’t getting married just ruin your trajectory…” Every word was an excuse. Every sentence was a deflection. I cut him off. “Carter, you seriously disgust me.” He was the person I knew best in the world, yet in that moment, he was a total stranger. I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. But Carter had long passed the phase of his life where my tears made him feel protective or guilty. He cursed under his breath, then looked at me with pure mockery. “Chloe, stop acting like you’re such a victim. Stop pretending you love me so much.” “You just want to marry into a higher tax bracket. My mom’s country club is full of small-town girls with the exact same agenda.” “I am the absolute ceiling of what you could ever hope to pull. You’re pressing me so hard because you’re terrified I’ll get away.” Before he could even finish, I turned and walked out. That night, I crashed at a friend’s place. The next morning, I stared at my swollen, red eyes in the mirror and quickly washed my face. When you’re an adult, no matter how heartbroken you are, you still have to clock in for work. It wasn’t like Carter and I hadn’t fought before. We’d always broken up and gotten back together. My friend told me Carter went way too far this time, and I shouldn’t forgive him easily. I had just typed “Okay,” when a text from Carter popped up on my screen: “My family requires someone from our own social class. Chloe, let’s break up.” My phone nearly slipped from my hands and shattered on the floor. 03 After the abrupt, cliff-drop of a breakup, I couldn’t stop myself from stalking all of Carter’s social media accounts. I was desperately searching for evidence that he still loved me. I found absolutely nothing. I checked again and again. Until he posted a short video. It was public. He was holding hands with a girl, walking in the sunlight. I clicked the video and heard his mother’s voice behind the camera: “You two look so perfect together! Get closer!” This new relationship was proudly displayed in the daylight, receiving the exact blessing I had never been given. The caption read: [Stop peeking at other people’s happiness like a rat in the gutter.] I didn’t shed another tear. My fingers were trembling violently. When I went to block and delete his number, I missed the button several times. Once my mom heard we broke up, her hopes of dragging me back to my hometown reignited. “You guys broke up, what’s the point of staying in that expensive city?” My aunt chimed in, “Hurry up and come back! Sigh, I’ve already contacted a few high-quality young men for you, but their families think your age is a bit of an issue…” I rejected them, just like always. The only difference was that Carter was no longer my reason for staying. I stayed at that tech giant for six years. My resume and capabilities had hit a hard glass ceiling there. My status as a thirty-something, unmarried, childless woman was viewed as a massive liability by the executives. After the breakup, I threw my entire soul into my work. For a long time, I practically slept at the office. By the end of the year, my team had crushed our KPIs better than anyone else. But in the end? I got a pat on the back and empty promises. The highly coveted promotion was handed to a male colleague who had a wife and kids. In the company Slack channel, the newly promoted colleague announced he was treating everyone to coffee. A long line of “Thanks, boss!” emojis flooded the chat. Followed by a few jokes about “don’t forget us when you’re rich.” I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Skyscrapers pierced the clouds; the traffic below was endless. The people sitting in these cubicles cycled out year after year, every single one of them exactly like me, and yet completely different. Maybe. Maybe it was time for me to change lanes. I submitted my resignation that very day. Years later, whenever I recalled that moment, it was crystal clear. The biggest, most life-altering decisions usually happen on the quietest, most ordinary days. 04 Five years later. The college reunion. Only about half the graduating class actually showed up. Classmates I hadn’t seen in years subtly eyed the bicycle I had ridden in on. “Wait, is that Chloe?” I smiled and waved. “Long time no—” Before I could even finish my sentence, a sleek Mercedes pulled up, and a stunningly dressed young woman stepped out of the passenger side. She was wearing a Chanel tweed suit and looked quite a bit younger than the rest of us. It took me a solid minute to put the pieces together. That was Carter’s wife, Tiffany Brooks. She was four or five years younger than our graduating class. She had the pristine face of someone who never had to suffer the stress of a 9-to-5, immaculately manicured down to her toes, clutching a Chanel bag. “Carter practically dragged me here. So annoying, I don’t even know anyone.” Hearing her complain, a classmate immediately kissed up: “Come to a few more of these and you’ll know everyone!” The crowd swarmed her, escorting her inside. The male classmate I had been talking to never gave me a second glance. Once seated, they reserved the seats of honor for Tiffany and Carter, who had just finished parking. I was squeezed into a corner, finding a random empty chair to sit down. But after a few drinks, I don’t know how, but the topic of conversation landed squarely on me. Tiffany looked across the table. “So you’re Chloe?” I paused. Few people called me by my first name like that anymore. It was usually Ms. Bennett. “Carter’s mentioned you to me.” “I want to say ‘sorry’ on his behalf.” She said the word “sorry,” but her expression looked anything but apologetic. “You guys were just way too young back then. And honestly, it’s his fault too. He should have known that girls like you can’t afford to waste time. Aside from your youth, you really didn’t have anything to offer.” The words were incredibly harsh. But no one stepped in to stop her. Everyone was enjoying the drama. Some looked at me with pity; others with thinly veiled glee. Tiffany glanced at my bare fingers and let out a light laugh. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t managed to get married?” “Carter has a new coworker at his firm. He’s in his thirties and hasn’t settled down either, just like you. I mean, sure, he’s a little short and starting to go bald, but he’s a nice guy. I can have Carter set you guys up.” Just as she finished her sentence, Carter walked into the private dining room. Maybe it was because his corporate HR job wasn’t too taxing, but at thirty-three, he still had a boyish, youthful energy. He was wearing a sleek Arc’teryx jacket and carrying a black LV men’s bag, looking as polished as a lifestyle influencer. The moment Carter walked in, his eyes locked onto me. For a split second, he looked stunned, but he quickly recovered and tore his gaze away. He sat down next to Tiffany, affectionately pinched her cheek, and scolded lightly, “Stop messing around.” “My coworker already has a girlfriend.” Tiffany let out a disappointed “Oh.” Watching Carter drape his arm around Tiffany, I felt a strange sense of vertigo. Deeply buried memories flickered in my mind. During the first few years of our relationship, he used to love holding me like that. He practically wanted to be glued to my side. I listened to them chat. Apparently, they had lived a fantastic life these past few years. They traveled abroad, adopted a Corgi, bought a house. Back in college, my roommate had heard the story of how Carter and I met. She had said that a guy brave enough to step in and save a stranger would definitely be a responsible, loving husband someday. I had spent years looking forward to that future. I just never factored in that he didn’t actually want to be my husband. The table endlessly praised Carter for his early success, raving about how becoming an HR Director at a major firm at his age made him a winner in life. A female classmate suddenly chimed in: “Speaking of winners in life, did you guys see the cover of Forbes this week?” “The new partner at Sterling Tech. He’s only twenty-seven and already financially free!” “I heard he’s representing Sterling Tech to ring the opening bell at NASDAQ today!” As she spoke, she pulled up the photo on her phone. Dressed in a sharp bespoke suit, with striking, chiseled features, he looked like a high-fashion runway model. He was so handsome it drew audible gasps from the table. If Carter was the kind of successful guy that made his peers burn with jealousy, this tech billionaire was on a stratosphere so untouchable that jealousy wasn’t even an option anymore. Right then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Liam Sterling: [Reporting in, Boss. Arrived in New York.] He attached a photo of the view from the airport, though his face took up more than half the frame. The weather didn’t look too warm, but he had already shed his suit jacket. His tie was loosened, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone. He looked a million times better than the stiff, serious photo on the magazine cover. Suddenly, someone at the table called out: “Since Tiffany is so eager to play matchmaker, we haven’t even asked—do you have a boyfriend, Chloe?” I answered instinctively: “I’m married.” The room abruptly went dead silent. Carter’s hands stopped mid-air as he was peeling a shrimp for Tiffany. “Chloe, stop joking around, none of us heard you got married!” “Well, if you’re married, why didn’t your husband come today?” I smiled. “He’s busy ringing the bell at NASDAQ.” 05 Five years ago. When I resigned, I took my two most capable subordinates with me. The hardest part of building a startup is the first step. Finding the right direction, and locking in the absolute resolve to jump. I met Liam Sterling during my second year in business. At the time, Liam had just returned from studying abroad and refused to inherit his family’s empire. He was going to interviews everywhere and hitting wall after wall. His resume was too elite, his salary demands were absurdly high, yet his practical experience was worse than a local state college grad. He peppered his sentences with unnecessary business jargon and came off incredibly pretentious. He bombed the first-round interview at my company. I, the CEO, didn’t even see him. But when I finally left the office after midnight, I saw him. It was 12:00 AM. The night was pitch black. The streetlights flickered. And he was right there. Doing push-ups on the sidewalk. Me: “…” Seeing me, he immediately scrambled up and marched toward me. “Ms. Bennett! I’m Liam Sterling. I interviewed for your company today!” “I strongly believe your company’s trajectory aligns perfectly with my skills. Refusing to hire me is entirely your loss.” There was a very good reason he couldn’t find a job. But it’s true what they say: obscenely good-looking people get away with murder. At the very least, I chose not to call the cops. My rented apartment was just a block away from the office, a ten-minute walk. All the way there, Liam followed me, yapping endlessly about his stellar academic background and trying to showcase his brilliance. I hadn’t slept properly in days. Right now, this man was nothing but a giant, buzzing fly in my ear. We cut through an alley in the older part of the neighborhood. From a distance, I smelled the vile stench of cheap alcohol. Two massive, drunken men had cornered a young woman who, like me, was clearly just walking home from a late shift. The girl shot us a desperate, pleading look. The two drunks noticed us. Their expressions didn’t change; they just sneered, looking entirely unbothered. But when they looked past me at Liam, one of them let out a loud, “Holy shit.” I had just pulled out my phone to dial 911 when a dark shadow launched from behind me. He was as fast as a champion greyhound at the races. Before the two drunks could even react, Liam had them both pinned to the concrete in a single, devastating move. The young girl looked at Liam with stars in her eyes, overflowing with worship and gratitude. And in that exact split second, I decided to hire him. It wasn’t just his heroic bravery that moved me. I wasn’t the naive freshman who had just moved to the city anymore. I hired him because I had to walk this exact dark alley every single night. Plus, with a face like that, I could totally drag him to investor pitch meetings as eye candy. In this day and age, plenty of VCs are willing to throw money at a pretty face. When a person can serve two highly functional purposes, what possible reason did I have to reject him? So, I cleared my throat. “Mr. Sterling, welcome to the team.” A brilliant, blinding light of surprise erupted in Liam’s gorgeous eyes. He genuinely believed his relentless persistence had won me over. I wasn’t wrong. A long time later, when he wrote his autobiography, he wrote this exact line: [Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Water cuts through stone. And that’s how I secured my wife!] But in that moment on the street, I had to put on a very difficult face. “However, Mr. Sterling, as you can see, our company is in its absolute infancy. We simply cannot match your expected salary…” Liam shook his head frantically. “Not a problem! Uh—can you do three thousand a month?” I grimaced. “That might be pushing it… I’ll have to discuss it with the board.” Liam looked deeply disappointed. But the next day, when he was told he could get four thousand, he showed up to his first day of work absolutely thrilled. He completely forgot that during his initial interview, his asking salary was easily triple that number. Just like that, he became my employee. We fought shoulder-to-shoulder in the startup trenches. At the very beginning, he showed up to the office every day looking impeccable and highly fashionable. His hair was perfectly styled with pomade, his jaw cleanly shaved, wearing a tailored three-piece suit, and radiating the expensive scent of Creed Aventus. He looked like he was walking a runway. Just like a fresh grad who still bothers to put on full makeup for a 9-to-5. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to become just as ragged and unkempt as the rest of us. One time, we worked overtime for an entire month straight. The final night, we pulled an all-nighter and everyone collapsed on the office floor. When I woke up the next morning, I caught Liam pinching his stomach, dramatically wailing, “Where did my abs go?!” The second he saw me, he sucked his stomach in so hard he turned blue. I could faintly make out a six-pack. For a long time after that, he practically lived at the gym. Even if we logged off at 10 PM, he’d drag himself to the gym for an hour. As for the moment his identity as a billionaire heir was finally exposed… that happened at a client dinner.

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During a game of Truth or Dare, someone asked my husband, Carter: “If you were given another chance, who would you choose? Harper or Serena?” Carter downed a glass of whiskey and said, his voice laced with a strange sense of loss, “We were too broke back then. Serena would have only suffered if she stayed with me.” So, he chose me. But things were different now. He had money, power, and status. He had built a gilded cage to protect Serena perfectly. He would even drop to one knee just so she could rest her foot on his thigh. As for me, he simply didn’t understand. “I’ve already given you the title of Mrs. Hayes. What more do you want?” One Today was my birthday. Carter asked me what my birthday wish was. I took off my earrings, tossed them aside, and blew out the candles with absolute apathy. But then, I clasped my hands together reverently and said with absolute sincerity: “I wish we could get this divorce finalized quickly.” That single sentence stopped Carter dead in his tracks. The smile on his face, which hadn’t been very bright to begin with, slowly vanished. After a long moment, he sighed and rubbed his temples in frustration. “Are you still mad?” “I rushed all the way back here for you, didn’t I?” “Stop throwing the word ‘divorce’ around so casually. I might actually take you seriously one of these days.” I just looked at him. The exhaustion on his face was obvious. He had just spent a week playing tourist in Scandinavia with Serena. He must be exhausted. Then, a nine-hour flight. Followed by a non-stop drive straight to our estate in The Heights, just to see me. He had his assistant order a custom cake in advance and had the housekeeper buy fresh groceries. The minute he walked through the door, he personally cooked an entire table of my favorite food. He was so busy rushing to get this done that he hadn’t even changed his clothes. All just to celebrate my birthday. If he had done this any of the previous years, I would have been crying tears of joy, convinced I was the luckiest woman in the world. But this year was destined to be different. I felt absolutely no emotion. In fact, I was a little annoyed. I looked him dead in the eyes, my expression blank: “Divorce. Divorce. Divorce. Did you hear me clearly enough? If not, I can keep saying it. I am begging you to take me seriously.” Carter’s face turned to stone. He clenched his jaw so tightly I could see the muscles pulsing in his cheek. He violently kicked a dining chair, the wood scraping harshly against the floor. “Harper, that’s enough.” “How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum? Is this fun for you?” He took several deep breaths, trying to force his temper down. “I didn’t miss your birthday. I rushed back to accompany you. You’ve made your point. Drop it.” “I’m going upstairs to take a shower. You need to calm down.” With that, he turned and marched upstairs without looking back. I looked at the sickeningly sweet buttercream cake and the still-steaming food on the table, feeling genuinely baffled. Why did he think that rushing back to celebrate my birthday meant a damn thing to me? My friends had prepared fireworks, top-shelf liquor, and hot guys for me. I could have had a perfect, wild birthday with them. But it was completely ruined by Carter showing up uninvited. He had played the gentle, devoted gentleman, grabbing my hand firmly in front of everyone. He smiled politely at my friends and said, “Do you mind if I borrow Harper for the night?” And then he aggressively dragged me away. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t fight back. I even kept a smile on my face. Not because I was happy. But because I was so used to maintaining my dignity in public that I instinctively avoided making a scene. Two Carter was taking a shower on the second floor. I leaned back on the sofa and lit a cigarette. My phone rang just as I was lighting my second one. It was a call from Serena. It rang for a solid thirty seconds. I just sat there watching the screen, ignoring it. I crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray and poured myself a glass of wine. The phone rang again. Still Serena. I hit accept and put it on speaker. Serena’s spoiled, arrogant voice blasted through the speaker. “Where is Carter? Put him on.” I didn’t answer, taking a slow sip of my red wine instead. “Harper, say something. I know you’re listening.” “Put Carter on the phone. I need to talk to him.” “Tsk. If his phone wasn’t off, do you really think I’d be calling you? You’re so annoying!” I could hear the barely suppressed rage in her voice. I offered a cold, detached smirk. “He’s in the shower.” “What do you want?” Serena went dead silent. A few seconds later, she finally spoke again, her voice dripping with venom. “You two really don’t waste a single second, do you?” “Is screwing the only thing you two ever do?” “Disgusting!” Her outburst actually made me laugh out loud. “I’m sleeping with my legal husband. The cops couldn’t arrest me if they tried. Why are you so pressed?” “Or what, did you expect him to save himself for you?” “What the hell are you talking about?!” Serena snapped defensively. “I wouldn’t stoop so low as to sleep with him. Carter might be a prize to you, but to me, he’s nothing.” She sounded pretty confident saying that. But I was too lazy to argue with her. “Tell me what you want, or I’m hanging up.” “The passcode!” Serena demanded urgently. “What’s the passcode to the house? It’s a long string of numbers, and it’s so annoying to remember.” Three The passcode. The passcode to every single property he owned, and the lock screen code to Carter’s phone. It hadn’t changed in all these years. I had asked Carter once what those six numbers meant. Carter had answered casually, “Nothing. Just random numbers.” For a while, I actually believed him. Later, I was holding his phone and casually punched those numbers into the T9 keypad. The predictive text spelled out a word: Serena. I didn’t say another word, hung up the phone, and tossed it onto the sofa. Just as I was pouring myself another glass of wine, Carter walked out in a bathrobe. He was towel-drying his hair as I handed him a document. “What’s this?” “Divorce papers. Sign them.” Carter glared at me coldly and tried to walk right past me toward the liquor cabinet. I swung my arm out and swept the entire table of food onto the floor. The loud, chaotic crash of shattering plates was deafening in the quiet, early-morning house. Carter lost his temper and stepped aggressively toward me. “What the hell do you want? Is this really just because I didn’t get back in time for your party?” I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Who the hell do you think you are? Get over yourself.” “These divorce papers… you can either sit down and sign them peacefully, or we can wage a scorched-earth war and you can sign them then.” Carter’s jaw was clenched tight. He angrily threw the towel onto the floor. “You’re being completely unreasonable.” He turned and started walking toward the stairs again. I spoke up. “Serena just called.” “She said she couldn’t reach you and didn’t know the passcode to get into her house.” Carter stopped dead in his tracks. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “Did you give her the passcode?” “Why would I give it to her?” I said coldly. Carter’s frown deepened into a scowl. He started rushing up the stairs to change his clothes. But I moved faster. With lightning speed, I charged up the stairs and kicked him square in the back. As he fell forward, I drove my knee into his spine and wrenched his arm behind him. Carter let out a muffled groan and yelled in pain and anger. “Harper, what the hell are you doing?!” I leaned down close to his ear and slapped the contract against the side of his face. “Sign the divorce papers.” “Otherwise, you’re not leaving this house.” “And your precious little princess can freeze outside all night.” This time, Carter was silent for a very long time. “Do you know what I hate most about you? It’s that you always resort to violence.” Four My relationship with Carter was complicated. During our poorest years, we lived in the same crappy apartment building—him upstairs, me downstairs—but we never spoke a single word to each other. My mom was beautiful. She had me when she was nineteen, and after that, there was a revolving door of men in her life. My grandmother, deeply regretting how my mom turned out, raised me like a tomboy. She even sent me to learn self-defense from the guy who lived downstairs. That guy was a boxing coach, built like a brick house, but he had a sickly, fragile son who he treated like a delicate porcelain doll. That was Carter and his dad. When we were kids, I would drag Carter around to play. I protected him, told him he was my sidekick, and said I’d always have his back. I had his back for ten years. Until my grandmother passed away, and his father died. We became two kids with absolutely no one to rely on. We should have clung to each other to survive the cold. But weirdly, without any specific reason, he started distancing himself from me. I wasn’t an idiot. I felt the rejection. So I stopped trying to force my way into his life. He had good grades and he was good-looking, but his personality was cold and his body was weak. He didn’t fit in with anyone. In high school, teenage boys are full of aggressive energy. Some guys started bullying him. I overheard a few guys from the basketball team talking: “That pretty boy is so annoying. We should just break one of his fingers.” Carter’s fingers. Those were the fingers he used to read, to write, to claw his way to a better life. I followed them after school and used the techniques Carter’s dad had taught me to beat the living hell out of them. I got banged up too, but it didn’t matter. I had thick skin. I could take it. As I was walking up the stairs to my apartment with my backpack, I saw Carter waiting in the shadows with a dark expression. He pulled me into his apartment, brought out a first-aid kit, and expertly cleaned and bandaged my wounds. That was the first time I had been inside his apartment since his dad died. Carter’s dad had been stabbed to death while trying to stop a mugging. With his skills, he could have easily handled those guys, but one of them pulled a knife. The knife went into Carter’s dad’s stomach, was pulled out, and plunged in again. He didn’t even survive long enough to see Carter one last time. The person he saved moved away overnight, disappearing completely. The guy who stabbed him went to prison, but didn’t pay a single cent in restitution. Carter knelt in front of his grave, expressionless, saying his dad had it coming for playing the hero when he couldn’t handle it. He said the thing he hated most in the world were people who only knew how to solve problems with their fists. And it was from that moment on that he refused to speak to me anymore. That day, he kept his head down, tending to the cuts on my hands. His voice was very soft and slow. He said: “Harper, don’t ever fight anyone again. Especially not for me.” Five It had been a long time since Carter looked this pathetic. He forcefully scrawled his signature on the last page of the document. He threw the divorce papers onto the floor. He threw his clothes on and stormed out of the house. I slept like a baby. I woke up naturally, then called a moving company to start packing my things. When Carter got back, the movers were carrying a massive oil painting out the front door. “What are you doing? Who told you to move that?” Carter jumped out of his car and jogged over, looking furious. The movers exchanged confused glances. I slowly walked out of the house. “I told them to. What’s the problem?” Carter took a deep breath. “What are you pulling now?” “Isn’t that my painting? Harper, I bought that. Why didn’t you tell me? You are so annoying.” Serena stepped out of the passenger side of the car. Even though she was saying ‘annoying,’ her eyes were sparkling as she looked at the painting. Carter froze, instinctively looking at me. I offered a faint smile. “Actually, I bought it.” “I was blind back then. I spent almost twenty grand on this massive thing, and now, the more I look at it, the more it disgusts me.” That was during the hardest period of Carter’s startup phase. He was working himself to the bone, but he still made time to take me out. He took me to an art exhibition. I didn’t know how to appreciate art. I couldn’t tell what was good or bad. But I noticed he stopped in front of one specific oil painting for a very long time, looking reluctant to leave it when we walked away. So, I lived on a shoestring budget and used all the money I had saved over those years to buy that oil painting as a birthday gift for Carter. Over the years, we moved many times. The houses got bigger and bigger. And we always took that oil painting with us. I always thought he cherished it because it was a birthday gift from me. Until he rushed to Paris to bring Serena back. Serena posted a picture of a painting from a courtyard. The signature on the painting was exactly the same as the one on the oil painting. What does it feel like to have your entire world shattered by a single, heavy blow? It’s hard to describe. I just know I crouched on the floor for a long time, my face deathly pale, biting my teeth together so hard I tasted blood. Six My words clearly triggered Serena. She angrily stepped forward, ready to confront me. “What is that supposed to mean?” Carter grabbed her arm, stopping her from reaching me. Serena stared at him in disbelief. “You’re protecting her?” She shook off Carter’s hand, her eyes red with anger, and turned to run back to the car. Carter didn’t grab her again, but his voice softened. “Alright, go wait in the car. I’ll take you to meet Director Ford in a minute.” Serena puffed out her cheeks, looking furious. She glared at me. But ultimately, she obediently got into the car. Carter looked like he wanted to say something. I looked at him with a mocking smile. “Serena doesn’t get it, but I do. You look like you’re stopping her, but you’re actually protecting her.” “But you don’t need to worry. I wouldn’t touch her. Risking myself to hurt her isn’t worth it.” Carter’s expression stiffened for a fraction of a second. But he was a master manipulator, and he quickly recovered his composure. “You need to stop imagining things.” “Serena… I’m just helping her out because of our past.” “You don’t need to project those filthy, malicious thoughts onto her and me.” Hypocrite! That was the only word I could think of. I let out a cold laugh. “Is it that you don’t want to?” “No, it’s that you don’t deserve her!” Serena was a rich, spoiled heiress. When Carter and I were surviving on five dollars a day, she was wearing a twelve-thousand-dollar hairpin. A little princess like her… we shouldn’t have ever even crossed paths. But that year, she transferred to our school and spent a year in our class. The arrogant, privileged little princess took one look at Carter and decided she wanted him. “Hey, can I sit next to you?” “No.” “Can you tutor me in math?” “I don’t have time.” “Carter, I like you.” “I don’t like you.” After being rejected over and over again, the little princess turned her embarrassment into anger. She started targeting Carter. Like pouring milk all over his homework. Like dumping a whole bowl of soup on his clothes. Like mocking him for not even being able to afford a new pair of shoes. Like framing him for stealing her fountain pen. Carter told me to stay out of it, saying he could handle it. But the reality was his grades kept dropping. I took it upon myself to find Serena. I warned her that if she touched Carter again, I wouldn’t go easy on her. Carter was furious with me that time. He forced me to apologize to Serena, then carried me home on his back. He said to me: “We can’t afford to mess with people like Serena. We just have to endure it. We endure it until we don’t have to look at their faces anymore.” I always thought Carter hated Serena. But people are complicated. There is no pure love, and there is no pure hate. It’s always a tangled mess of both. Seven Carter ignored the busy movers in the mansion, grabbed the documents he needed, and turned to leave. He left me with one sentence: “Do whatever you want.” Well, if he said I could do whatever I wanted, then I would. I threw away the oil painting, threw away our wedding photos, threw away the bed from the master bedroom, and even threw away Carter’s entire closet full of clothes. Finally, a moving truck hauled away all my belongings, driving off in a grand procession. That night, I slept on a floor mat in my still-unpacking new apartment, staring at the ceiling until the sun came up before finally falling asleep. When I woke up, I was already lying in a properly made bed. I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t think I was sleepwalking, or that a burglar had broken in. The only person who could find me here was Carter. Sure enough, when I walked out of the bedroom, he was in the kitchen boiling pasta. Carter was quick at everything. Back in the day, when we were too poor to afford any pre-made food. Carter did everything himself. Cooking rice, stir-frying, making soup—he could always whip up something decent on the first try. I was the exact opposite. He never understood it. “Can’t you just follow the recipe? Why do you have to get creative?” I didn’t understand him either. “We’re just missing green onions. Does it really matter? Why do you have to run all the way downstairs to buy them?” Those chaotic, messy days were full of the warmth of real life. But thinking about it now, it feels like it happened in another lifetime. “You’re up? Brush your teeth, wash your face, and eat breakfast.” I didn’t move. “My name is on the lease for this place. Don’t come here anymore.” Carter’s hand, stirring the pasta, stopped. He turned off the stove, shut off the range hood, and turned around. He asked me: “I can promise you right now that Serena’s presence will never threaten our marriage. You will always be Mrs. Hayes. What exactly are you dissatisfied with?”

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To prevent me from living poorly after starting college, my mom deposited a hundred grand onto my campus meal card all at once. But when she saw the fruits and snacks I brought back for everyone to share, my “low-income” roommate suddenly got offended. “You’re so extravagant and wasteful. You don’t look like someone who knows how to manage a household at all. My mom despises girls like you.” I found her reaction completely baffling, so I just pulled up my meal card transaction history to show her. “These snacks weren’t even that expensive. Besides, it’s my money. I have the right to spend it however I want.” I never expected the “low-income” girl to explode. She pointed at my seventy-three-dollar dinner receipt and shrieked, “Eating a meal this expensive just for yourself? Aren’t you afraid of bad karma?!” “Every extra cent you spend now means my brother will have to work an extra shift after he marries you!” “My family can’t afford to worship a golden calf like you!” She gave me full-body goosebumps. I immediately went to our RA and requested a dorm transfer. I never imagined she would hold such a deep grudge. Not long after, she brought her entire family to campus, forcefully kidnapped me, and dragged me back to their remote mountain village to be her brother’s forced bride. There, under her brother’s relentless, day-and-night domestic abuse, I was beaten to death in a filthy pigpen. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the exact day Chloe was berating me for spending money like water. 01 I stood frozen, holding the bags of fruit and snacks. The stench of the pigpen was gone, and my legs hadn’t been shattered by Caleb’s iron rod. Looking around the dorm room, filled with the cheerful chatter of my roommates, my eyes instantly welled up with tears. I had actually been reborn! I was back to the day I brought welcome gifts for my roommates. Remembering the nightmare I had lived through in my past life, a sharp sting hit my nose. The very next second, taking advantage of the fact that Chloe hadn’t returned yet, I quickly shoved the fruit and snacks into my suitcase. I swore to myself I would never have the slightest connection with that crazy woman again. But just as I was getting up to find the RA to request a room change, I ran face-first into Chloe walking in. She looked at me with a dark expression, frowning impatiently. “What did you buy this time?” I gripped the hem of my shirt and quickly looked away. “N-nothing…” To my shock, she suddenly snatched my phone out of my hand and pressed my thumb against the sensor to unlock it. Staring at my transaction history, she shrieked, “This expensive?!” “What kind of cake costs over a hundred dollars?” “A cup of blended juice, and you spent twenty bucks on it?” She shot me a look of pure disbelief. “I’m telling you.” “It’s way too easy to take money from you spoiled little brats.” “Do you really think the money my brother makes in the future grows on trees?” Her words brought back a flood of memories from my past life. In my previous life, after her family kidnapped me and dragged me to the mountains, I never spent a single cent of their money. Instead, her “hardworking” brother forced me to sell my body to support their family. I had tried telling him that I had money—lots and lots of money. If they would just let me go, I promised to set them up for life. But after extorting a massive ransom from my mother, they locked me in a pigpen covered in filth. Chloe’s mother couldn’t resist mocking me: “Money always runs out eventually. But as long as we keep the goose that lays the golden eggs, we’ll never have to worry about a thing.” “We’re not stupid enough to kill the goose.” They used the ransom money to renovate their old house, living a life of luxury that made the whole village jealous. But the one time I simply said I was hungry, Caleb beat my face until it was swollen beyond recognition. “Hungry, hungry, hungry! That’s all you know how to do!” “Didn’t you just eat an egg yesterday morning?” “You lazy, gluttonous piece of trash!” That night, he grabbed a heavy farming hoe and beat me to death in the cold, freezing rain. Thinking of this, I couldn’t suppress the fury burning in my chest. I snatched my phone back. I glared at Chloe with absolute venom. “It’s my money, and I’ll spend it however I want! It’s none of your damn business!” With that, I turned on my heel and marched straight toward the RA’s office. Since I couldn’t avoid them anyway, I wanted to see who exactly belonged in the deepest pits of hell this time around! 02 Just like in my past life, the RA didn’t give me a hard time about wanting to switch rooms. She quickly approved my request and moved me to the dorm next door. However, when I went back to my old room to pack my things, Chloe was sobbing uncontrollably in front of the other girls. Soon, my former roommates were shooting me complicated looks. “Summer, I know as outsiders we shouldn’t get involved,” one of them started. “But you shouldn’t degrade yourself by being a gold digger, right?” “Chloe told us you’re already engaged to her brother.” “The money on your meal card—her brother put that there for you, didn’t he?” Listening to their baseless accusations, I froze. I couldn’t believe Chloe had reached this level of shamelessness. How could she invent such a ridiculous lie? Before I could even defend myself, Chloe wiped her tears. “Please don’t let me ruin the vibe in the dorm. Don’t make things awkward because of me.” “I just feel so bad for my brother.” “He works so incredibly hard, all so he can provide a stable home for the future.” The girls, overcome with sympathy, immediately shot me cold glares. “Having a gold digger as a roommate is seriously bad luck!” I couldn’t help but marvel at how right I was to switch rooms. Otherwise, I had no idea how I would have survived four years with these gullible idiots. Pulling my suitcase out from under the bed, I didn’t want to stay a second longer. But just as Chloe asked, “Sister-in-law, where are you going?” I spun around and snapped back, “I am not engaged to your brother.” “I don’t even know who your brother is.” “And for the record! I’m spending the allowance money I’ve saved up over the years!” That shut them up instantly. They all looked at Chloe in disbelief. Under their scrutinizing stares, Chloe looked uncomfortable. Her eyes turned red, and she started making her bed. The vibe in my new dorm was great. As soon as they heard I was the new transfer, they all eagerly introduced themselves and invited me to join them for lunch. I noticed a huge spread of takeout on the main table. So, I offered up the fruit and snacks I had hidden in my suitcase to share. But just as we were eating and chatting excitedly, a cold voice suddenly sounded in my ear. “Sister-in-law, aren’t you worried about getting fat eating all that?” “My brother doesn’t like girls who are too heavy.” I nearly jumped out of my chair. I spun around to see Chloe standing there like a ghost. 03 This time, I was so angry I laughed. I snapped back without holding back, “None of your damn business.” My new roommates also started asking who Chloe was. But Chloe acted like she didn’t hear them. She stepped forward, glanced at the takeout on the table, and pointed her fingers at me. “Sister-in-law, I came to apologize.” “But I’m only doing this for your own good.” “After all, the pig we’re raising for the holidays at home is already eating enough…” Hearing her call me “sister-in-law” twice instantly sparked my roommates’ curiosity. Before they could ask, I quickly cleared the air. “Chloe, I know your brother is getting older and can’t find a girlfriend.” “But you can’t just grab a random person and call them your sister-in-law, can you?” “Also, I have a personal trainer at the gym to manage my fitness. I don’t need you worrying about it.” Chloe jerked her head up in shock. “What?” “You spend money to eat and drink, and then spend more money to lose weight?” “That’s not how you use money. If it’s that bad, just come back to the farm with me and do some manual labor. That’ll slim you down.” But the dorm president, Sarah, fired back, “It’s her money. She can spend it however she wants. It’s none of your concern.” The other girls chimed in, “Exactly.” “If you love worrying so much, go to Mount Rushmore, tell Washington to move over, and you take his place.” “Summer already said she has nothing to do with your brother and told you to stop calling her that. How do you have the nerve to still stand here?” “You’re not welcome in our room.” “You’re in the wrong place. The trash can is in the bathroom.” She clearly hadn’t expected her “good intentions” to be met with this kind of reaction. Chloe’s eyes were wide with disbelief. Before anyone could physically kick her out, she shot me a venomous glare. “Sister-in-law, I didn’t think you were this kind of person.” “You’re totally fine spending my brother’s money, but you treat him like some kind of sugar daddy to string along?” “Since that’s how it is, I have nothing to hold back.” “I have proof that she’s my sister-in-law.” Saying that, she pulled out… 04 A photograph. Even though it was wrinkled from being hidden away and looked aged and yellowed, the woman standing next to her brother undeniably had my exact face. Looking at their bright smiles and the unfamiliar background, I felt completely surreal. I was absolutely certain that today was the first time I had ever met Chloe. Even if the photo was photoshopped and artificially aged, how would she even know who I was? It was so bizarre, I briefly wondered if my dad had an illegitimate daughter running around. I was too stunned to speak for a long time. Then, Chloe’s icy voice broke the silence. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Seeing her smug, confident expression, I felt like I was choking. But even then, Sarah didn’t just take her word for it. She turned to another roommate. “Mia, you’re a graphic design major.” “Take a look. Is this photoshopped?” Mia immediately grabbed the photo. She stared at it for a long time but couldn’t figure it out. Finally, she scratched her head awkwardly. “Hehe, I skip class way too much. I can’t really tell.” “But it’s fine. I know a senior who does this professionally.” “I’ll snap a pic and send it to him.” However, she quickly received a reply that shocked everyone. “The photo is real. No signs of Photoshop.” At the same time, a triumphant smile spread across Chloe’s face. “See?” “Still going to deny you’re my sister-in-law?” “How do you explain the photo then?” I really didn’t know how to explain it, because the person in the photo definitely wasn’t me! Even in my past life, I had never seen this woman before. Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, Chloe scanned my roommates, a sneer on her lips. “Now do you see what kind of person your new roommate is?” But the response she got was a freezing cold order from Sarah. “Get out.” “Our room does not welcome you!” Chloe’s face stiffened. She immediately turned and stormed out. “You don’t know what’s good for you!” “You’ve messed with the wrong person! You’ll regret this!” 05 Over the next few days, my roommates tacitly agreed to never bring the incident up again. They continued to invite me to meals and gossip sessions as usual. Chloe didn’t bother me again either. I thought the whole farce was over and I could finally start my college life. But one afternoon, when all my roommates were out on dates, I was walking alone to the dining hall. On the main path, I bumped into an old woman peering around shiftily. As soon as I saw her face, I immediately turned around to run. But Chloe’s mother locked eyes on me and lunged, grabbing my wrist in a vice grip. She looked me up and down, her eyes finally settling on my hips, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. “Hmph. So skinny.” “Who knows if you’ll even be able to give me a grandson.” I glared at her icily. “Let go of me. I don’t know you.” The old woman suddenly pinched my butt hard. “You uneducated little brat!” “Is that how you talk to your mother-in-law?” “You might not know me, but I know you! Your name is Summer, right?” “Just hearing that name, I know you’re high-maintenance.” “I think you should change your name to something more traditional, like Martha.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Earlier, I had thought they just mistook me for the woman in the photo. But the fact that she knew my name meant it wasn’t a mistake. What the hell was going on? The tangled mess of thoughts made my brain short-circuit for a second. I immediately yanked my hand away, wishing I had eight legs so I could run away from this nightmare faster. But the old woman got straight to the point. “I heard from Chloe that you’re a money-burning waste of space.” “But I have no choice. My son is dead set on you.” “So I’ll give it to you straight.” “If you want to marry my son, the dowry has to include a car.” “My son has loved cars since he was a boy. It can’t be anything under fifty grand.” “I already looked at houses. It’s a nice little suburban home in our county.” “It needs at least six bedrooms so Chloe doesn’t have to share a bed with her brother anymore.” “I heard there’s a discount. We can get it all cash for about seven hundred grand.” Listening to her ramble in my ear, I instantly flashed back to the horrors of my past life. I immediately started screaming for the campus security guards. But Chloe stepped out, blocking the guard’s path. She pulled out her phone and played a video. In the video, under the old oak tree at the entrance to their village, I was wearing a pure white wedding dress, kneeling on one knee before Caleb. I looked pathetic, begging Caleb to marry me. Finally, after I cried and pleaded relentlessly, Caleb accepted the proposal. And the ecstatic woman in the video looked and sounded exactly like me. Even when Caleb said those gross, cheesy romantic lines, he used my name. Just like when they kidnapped me in my past life, she used a few words to completely dispel the guard’s suspicions. She smiled and walked over to the old woman. “Mom, what do you think?” “Is she to your liking?” The old woman shook her head, sucking her teeth. “Average.” Just then, Caleb arrived, driving his beat-up van. Seeing that I was about to fall back into the hell of my past life, I quickly pulled out my phone to call 911. But Caleb sprinted over, snatched my phone, and smashed it on the ground under his boot. Chloe laughed, throwing a smug look my way. “Well? Still think your money makes you better than everyone else?” “Why don’t you get on your knees and beg me right now?” “Maybe if I feel bad for you, I’ll toss you some scraps.” Despair swallowed me whole. It felt like I was constantly trapped in a dense fog. But just as they started dragging me toward the van… My eyes widened. Suddenly, it all made sense. I think I finally understood what was going on. The next second, I yelled at the mother and son. Hearing my words, the mother and son froze. Caleb gritted his teeth and slapped Chloe hard across the face. “Chloe! Is that how you talk to your classmates?” “Is this how Mom and I raised you?!” 06 Chloe was stunned by the slap. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. But Caleb wasn’t satisfied. He grabbed her by the hair and punched her in the face. Blood immediately sprayed from her nose. As she wailed and sobbed under the beating, the old woman turned to look at me. “Are you sure you have a way to make Chloe marry your brother?” Given the desperate situation, I had no choice but to use my brother, who was overseas, as a shield. I just hoped that when he found out, he’d feel sorry enough for his little sister not to accidentally kill me. Thinking of this, I nodded firmly. “You know my family is rich, but as a girl, I can’t inherit the business.” “My brother is different. Not only is he more capable than me, but he also built a publicly traded company from scratch.” “He’s definitely going to take over the family business in the future.” The old woman’s eyes gleamed greedily. She immediately glared at Caleb. “Beat her!” “Beat her hard!” “She almost cost our family a one-way ticket to the top, and she still claims to be some ‘main character with a script’?” “I think she’s a jinx!” The words “main character” made my expression freeze. Just a moment ago, I had wondered if Chloe had superpowers or was an alien. But reality was even more absurd than I imagined—she was a time-traveler with a “system”! No wonder she could casually pull out “evidence” to deceive everyone. I wanted to see how she planned to thrive in a family that sucked the marrow from their own bones! When I looked back, Caleb had already beaten Chloe half to death. The old woman pressed me again about my earlier promise. I nodded with absolute certainty. “Of course.” “My parents spoil me the most.” “If he wants to bring someone home, it just takes one word from me.” “It’s just that…” I looked at Chloe with a feigned expression of difficulty. “You know, wealthy families value capability over looks.” “Chloe is just too pretty.” “I’m afraid people might think she’s just a trophy wife. If rumors start spreading, it could affect my family’s stock price.” Hearing this, Chloe, who had just regained consciousness, gasped in shock. “Bullshit!” “Mom! Caleb! Don’t listen to her! She’s lying!” “I’m the only one who knows the plot!” “You have to listen to me! Tie her up, and we’ll have more money than we can spend!” “If she hadn’t accidentally died in her past life! I wouldn’t have…” At that moment, I finally realized that Chloe had been reborn just like me. But facing her impotent rage, I covered my mouth in feigned concern. “Chloe! Kidnapping is a felony!” “Are you trying to help them, or ruin them?” That comment made Caleb frown deeply. He walked toward Chloe again. “Still spewing nonsense at a time like this?” “I think Summer makes a lot of sense.” “Instead of focusing on dressing up, you should be figuring out how to be worthy of a billionaire’s wife!” With that, he grabbed a handful of mud from the ground and smeared it all over Chloe’s face. “No more makeup for you from now on!” “Do you think my money grows on trees?!” Seeing her face covered in foul-smelling mud, Chloe completely broke down. After all, despite her poor background, she was incredibly vain. In my past life, all the money I made from selling my body went straight to buying her makeup. Seeing her hysterical breakdown, I finally let out a sigh of relief. It seemed my gamble had paid off. Everything that happened made me realize that she didn’t actually like me. In fact, she despised me. The only reason she wanted to kidnap me was to wring every last drop of value out of me. Now, all of that was going to backfire spectacularly on her. It was time for me to personally send this entire family straight to hell.

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My sister invited me to her wedding, but standing at the altar was a face I knew all too well. It was the man who had pressed a soft kiss to my lips just this morning before leaving our apartment. Now, I was watching them recite their vows and exchange wedding rings. My sister looped her arm through his and elegantly reminded me: “I specifically asked Caleb to take care of you before, but now, Hazel, it’s time you found a real boyfriend.” I glanced at Caleb Wright. He smirked slightly, gazing lovingly at my sister, offering absolutely no explanation. Whatever. I didn’t want him anymore. Even if Caleb stood outside my rundown apartment door in the future, calling me “sweetheart” over and over again, I still wouldn’t want him. 1 When Caleb left the house this morning, he had pressed a light kiss to my cheek. He reminded me, just like he always did: “Food is in the fridge. Heat it up when you wake up, and make sure you eat.” So, when I saw Caleb’s face at the wedding, my first reaction wasn’t anger, but pure, disorienting disbelief. As the officiant read the vows, Caleb looked at my sister with absolute devotion, leaving me with only a view of his profile. There was a tiny mole right at the corner of his eye. So many times, when he had to cancel a date because he was “busy” and made me mad, he would cling to me and whine sweetly. “I’ll let you kiss the mole by my eye. Don’t be mad. I know it’s your favorite.” I never mistook him for someone else, but why was it Caleb? After being taken back to the Thorne family, I rarely appeared in public. I never told anyone I was a member of the Thorne family, and I never coveted anything that didn’t belong to me. I didn’t get to choose my origins, but I had tried my absolute hardest to stay away from the Thornes. So why was my boyfriend standing at the altar with my sister? My eldest brother, Sebastian, suddenly grabbed my wrist tightly just as the officiant asked Caleb: “Do you take Vivienne Thorne to be your lawfully wedded wife, regardless of…” At the same time, Sebastian’s voice dropped into my ear. “Forgot to tell you, Caleb and our little sister are childhood sweethearts. We’ve spoiled her rotten, so she does whatever she wants.” “I apologize to you on her behalf.” The “little sister” he was talking about wasn’t me. It was Caleb’s bride, Vivienne, the elegant heiress of the Thorne family. Sebastian always did whatever he pleased. He was speaking to me so politely not out of respect, but out of sheer disgust. I deliberately ignored Sebastian’s words and stared intensely at Caleb. He didn’t even spare me a glance out of the corner of his eye. He just looked at my sister, his gaze tender and affectionate, and answered firmly: “I do.” I couldn’t ignore those words. A sharp, stinging pain pierced my chest, and tears instinctively rolled down my cheeks. The hand gripping my wrist pulled away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sebastian using a tissue to meticulously wipe his long fingers. His disdainful voice floated down lightly. “Hazel Thorne? You really have some nerve, dreaming about things way out of your league.” 2 “Vivienne, come here. Let your big brother see how beautiful his little sister is.” Vivienne lifted the hem of her wedding dress and jogged over. Caleb followed closely behind her, guarding her carefully. “Sebastian, is it pretty? Caleb spent months picking it out.” There were tiny rhinestones near the corners of Vivienne’s eyes. As she moved, they caught the light beautifully, matching the diamonds on her dress. It was indeed beautiful. Sebastian reverted to his usual nonchalant demeanor. “Of course my sister is beautiful. Even if you weren’t wearing the dress that brat Caleb picked out, you’d still be gorgeous.” His tone was incredibly familiar. After speaking, he looked at Vivienne and Caleb with a gentle smile. Caleb wore a faint, confident smile on his face—a look I had never seen on him before. “Sebastian, we still have to go toast the guests. Vivienne and I are going to find Mom and Dad first. We’ll catch up later.” Throughout the entire exchange, I didn’t get the chance to say a single word. In fact, no one even spared me a glance. The disdain was blatantly obvious. It was exactly like the day I first stepped into the Thorne estate. My mother was kneeling on the floor, begging: “She’s your daughter, you can’t just abandon her…” Their entire family had sat on the sofa, doing their own things, even discussing an interesting news article, as if they didn’t even see us standing in the doorway. The simplest form of being ignored was enough to shatter us completely. It was the same now. I suddenly lost all desire to argue. I didn’t even want to know how Caleb ended up becoming my sister’s husband. I just wanted to get as far away from the Thorne family as possible, go back to my tiny, rundown apartment, and cry my eyes out. When I woke up tomorrow, I would still be Hazel—a girl who had absolutely nothing to do with the Thorne family. 3 “Sebastian, I should get going then.” I tried my best to maintain my composure, making myself look a bit more dignified. “Don’t. Why are you leaving? Caleb took care of you for so long, saying hello is the least you could do.” “My little sister is just spoiled. She insisted Caleb go take care of you. You didn’t misinterpret anything, did you?” Misinterpret what? The time Caleb clung to me and whispered, “I love you”? Or when he whined and said I was the only person he liked? Were these all just a game you guys knew about all along? And I was just the idiot being played for a fool. Now that the truth was out, you just had to check on the mental state of the idiot you played. You people really have too much time on your hands. I collected my emotions and lifted my chin. “I didn’t misinterpret anything.” “Sebastian, if you had told me earlier that Caleb was someone Vivienne specifically hired to ‘take care’ of me, I would have treated him better.” “At the very least, I wouldn’t have made him squeeze into a cheap apartment with me.” Sebastian probably didn’t expect me to pivot so quickly. He froze for a second. From behind came Vivienne’s voice: “Hazel, come here. Your brother-in-law and I want to toast you.” She walked toward me, holding a champagne glass. Mrs. Thorne, who was standing next to her, shot me a look of utter contempt before turning her head away. Vivienne stopped in front of me. Caleb stood beside her, whispering a reminder: “Drink less, your stomach will hurt again later.” Looking at this display of deep affection, I sighed internally: Wow, you guys really are incredible actors. The man who had been clinging to me for kisses when he left this morning could seamlessly shift roles in under three hours and carefully tend to another woman. It was absolutely nauseating. I raised my glass: “Wishing my sister and brother-in-law a century of happiness and a beautiful baby soon.” I couldn’t stay a second longer. I turned to leave. She called out from behind me. “Hazel, all those cheap plushies and watches you gave Caleb… I threw them all away. Don’t blame your sister, okay?” I stopped in my tracks. I remembered when Caleb and I were together, he cared so much about ceremony. He would always act cute and beg for gifts on every minor holiday. I didn’t have much money, so I used the wages from my lab internship to buy him small things. Scarves, flowers, watches. I carefully selected each one, hoping to see the happy look on his face when he received them. But the gifts I gave him always seemed to disappear the very next day. He lied and told me that he safely stored away everything I gave him. So, this was the real reason. That woman who gave birth to me never taught me much, but I remember her telling me when she was at the peak of her glamorous life: “The more desperate your situation, the more dignified you must act.” Although she couldn’t keep that promise herself in the end, I remembered those words. Being stabbed right in the wound, I dug my fingernails into my palms and feigned indifference: “They weren’t anything important anyway. If they’re thrown away, they’re thrown away.” With that, without looking back at their expressions, I forced my trembling legs to walk forward. 4 When I got home, I started packing Caleb’s things. From the bedsheets and duvet covers he had picked out, down to his toothbrush and the ring he left behind. I ended up packing quite a lot. I separated them into three trash bags and planned to take them downstairs to the dumpster. This apartment complex was beautiful. There was no shortage of gardens and trees. Right now, I could see the blooming Dogwood tree outside the window. When we were apartment hunting in the spring, Caleb had chosen this place at first glance precisely because of the tall Dogwood tree by the entrance. But the rent here was too high. I had to double my freelance workload just to barely afford it, not to mention I still had to go to the lab every day. In the end, he hugged me and pleaded, blinking his puppy-dog eyes at me, and I caved, nodding in agreement. The building didn’t have an elevator, so I dragged the bags down the stairs. The Dogwood tree was in full bloom, looking like a giant pink cloud of cotton candy from afar. It was a hot day, and my back was quickly drenched in sweat. The heavy plastic bags left deep red indentations on my hands. I felt a surge of frustration. I pulled a bit too hard, and one of the bags ripped open, spilling his clothes all over the stairs. I froze, staring at the clothes tumbling down to the landing below. I blinked, unable to describe what I was feeling in my chest. I just dragged my stiff body back upstairs to find a thicker trash bag. While I was squatting on the stairs picking up the clothes, the elderly neighbor lady happened to be coming home. Seeing me, she greeted me warmly: “Hazel, packing things up? I see Caleb could still wear these clothes. Don’t spoil him too much.” Even a neighbor I had only run into two or three times knew I spoiled Caleb. I paid the rent. I paid for our meals out. Even the clothes on his back were bought by me. All he had to do was whine a little, and I immediately abandoned all my principles. Maybe it was because I was so starved for love growing up. The moment I caught someone, I spoiled them desperately, completely blind to what their actual intentions were. My throat tightened. I wiped my face with my forearm, taking a moment to steady my voice before answering the grandma. “I know, Grandma. I won’t anymore.” After throwing everything into the dumpster, I threw myself onto my bed and forced my eyes shut. When I opened them again, the room was pitch black. I grabbed my phone and called my senior lab partner, Clara: “Clara, I want to live in the university dorms. Can I still get a room?” After that was settled, I sent a text to my landlord: “I want to terminate my lease.” I buried my face in the pillow, muttering to myself uncontrollably. “It’s fine. Just treat Caleb like a bad dream.” “I’m still me. The normal girl who got into the research lab on her own merit.” “My mom was wrong. I need to stay away from the Thorne family. I have nothing to do with them. I have nothing to do with them.” … 5 “Hazel, you came back at the perfect time. The lab is insanely busy. Marcus and I practically want to sleep here.” Caleb and Vivienne’s wedding was incredibly lavish. Anyone in Boston who used the internet probably saw photos of that gorgeous ceremony, let alone my lab partners Clara and Marcus. Clara led me down the hall to a dorm room, handed me the key, and quietly tried to comfort me. “You’re finally back. We can go grab some drinks tonight to celebrate.” I took the key and nodded blankly. After going inside, I sat on the bed and looked out the window. My first subconscious thought was: There’s no Dogwood tree outside this window. It looks so bare. Then, I rubbed my face vigorously, quickly unpacked my things, and hurried to the lab. “Come here, Hazel, look at this. Help me out.” “You’re finally back. We just got a new project, and we’re swamped.” “I can finally breathe a sigh of relief.” … I watched people in white lab coats bustling in and out, and tossed my backpack onto my desk. This was the only place that made me feel grounded. This was the lab I had clawed my way into, step by step, entirely on my own. Putting on my safety goggles, I inevitably thought of Caleb again. It was just last Friday. Caleb had insisted on picking me up. Because a data set had errors, all the experiments had to be redone. He leaned against the glass door of the lab, waiting for me. Every time I looked up, I could see his profile as he frantically typed on his phone. I should have realized it then: Why was his phone glued to his hand during that time? Why did I always see him looking anxious while texting? I thought he had met someone more interesting or was planning to cheat on me. But I wasn’t afraid. If worst came to worst, we’d just break up. You can’t keep what isn’t yours, so I didn’t even bother checking his phone. I was willing to bet on him, and I was prepared to lose. But I never expected that my entire relationship with Caleb was a setup. It was a scheme from the very beginning. From the very first time we met, it was all lies. That boy who smiled faintly at me was just a tailored illusion designed specifically for me. They were trashing someone else’s genuine feelings. I should have known better. Why would Vivienne Thorne ever let me off easily? “Focus, your pipette is about to hit the side of the test tube.” Marcus patted my shoulder, pulling me back to reality. “I’m focused, I’m focused.” But, playing with people like that… won’t karma catch up with them eventually? 6 “Drink! No one is allowed to leave tonight.” “See? We really did need our Hazel. We finished more than half of it, we can slack off a bit tomorrow morning.” “Drink up, don’t be shy!” … I was curled up in the booth, not understanding how things had escalated to this. One second we were happily discussing data, and the next it turned into a massive drinking competition. Clara walked over to me with a glass. “Hazel, have a drink. Relax a little.” The neon lights flashed. I looked up at the red lights behind Clara, mesmerized by the atmosphere in the private room. I took the glass and downed it in one gulp. It was sweet and sour, with a slightly spicy finish, but manageable. Where there’s a first glass, there’s a second. Clara didn’t stop me. She just watched me drink, glass after glass. I burped and slumped onto the sofa. In my ears, Clara’s voice sounded hazy: “You take the other guys back first…” It felt like there was a layer of gauze over my eyes. The lights were blurry, and in the haze, I thought I saw Caleb. Our first meeting was so simple. He dropped a fountain pen. Out of kindness, I picked it up and chased after him. He looked at the pen in my hand, his eyes curving into a shy smile: “Thank you. I really needed that pen. To thank you, let me buy you dinner.” The breeze gently blew his hair. It was such a clumsy pickup line, but looking at his shy smile, I broke my own rules and said yes. Later, we grew closer. The more time we spent together, the more I realized we shared so many hobbies and our perspectives were incredibly similar. He could sing almost my entire playlist; we liked the same violinist; we both loved reading in the afternoons… Two weeks later, we started dating. Maybe they also talked about me like this: “Oh, that bastard daughter of the mistress? So cheap. Caleb just crooked his finger and she took the bait.” … “Cry. Let it out. It’s not your fault.” It was Clara’s voice. She carried a faint scent of disinfectant that made me feel safe. “Cry. It’s just me here. Marcus went home.” “It’s better when you let it out. It’s better when you let it out.” “In this life, you’re bound to run into some garbage people. It’s not your fault.” … Clara patted my back gently. My head was spinning, and unknown emotions flooded my chest. I bit my lip hard, not wanting to show my weakness, but a sob slipped through my lips uncontrollably. My vision blurred. One second, it was Caleb gazing lovingly at Vivienne; the next, it was my mother kneeling on the floor, kowtowing relentlessly. The things I thought I cherished were just a nightmare woven from someone’s malicious intent. Driven by the alcohol, I couldn’t suppress my emotions any longer, and I finally burst out crying. 7 “The lab is establishing a branch overseas, and I’ll be heading there. Anyone who wants to go can submit an application by the end of this month.” “You’ll need to cover your own living expenses and tuition. Submit your applications to me by the end of the month.” At the Monday group meeting, Professor Adler calmly dropped this bombshell while sipping his tea. He was older, and his hands trembled slightly when he held his teacup. Back when I took the grad school entrance exams, my written scores were stellar, but my English speaking skills were a disaster. In the massive interview hall, the moment I opened my mouth, a faint, mocking smile appeared in the eyes of several professors. When my interview ended after a rushed two minutes, I walked out numbly, wondering what I would do if I didn’t get in. I never expected him to take me. The titan of biological research was my top-choice advisor. He only had two years left until retirement, and nobody wanted to produce groundbreaking results to prove he hadn’t made a mistake in choosing me more than I did. Marcus and Clara kept glancing at me from the corner of their eyes. I sat frozen in my seat, my body going cold. I had known for a long time that a person can withstand almost anything—except a lack of money. I instinctively rubbed my cold hands, comforting myself internally: It’s fine. It’s fine. Worst case, I’ll just take on more freelance work. But I also knew the truth. How could I possibly scrape together tens of thousands of dollars in just one month? After the meeting, Clara walked over. She never bothered with pleasantries; she always got straight to the point. “Hazel, you have to go overseas. This is the only chance for ordinary people like us to break through.” “I don’t come from a rich family either. Here’s twenty thousand. I saved it myself. I’m lending it to you first.” As she spoke, she pulled out her phone and transferred me $20,000. She spoke loudly, making no attempt to hide it. Marcus walked over, putting on a boisterous act. “Well, if Clara is stepping up, I can’t be left behind as your senior.” He transferred me $30,000 as he spoke. Fifty thousand, plus the forty thousand I had saved up, made ninety thousand. The tuition alone was $120,000, and that was after a discount. But if I worked myself to the bone this month, saving up the tuition wasn’t entirely impossible. With the oral English I had practiced desperately over the last two years, I could get a part-time job once I adapted over there, and if I lived frugally, I could barely manage to support myself. I mentally calculated everything, met Clara and Marcus’s gazes, and accepted the transfers without hesitation. Clara smiled immediately, her usual bright smile returning. “That’s right. Don’t be the kind of idiot who refuses help from the people around you.” When I returned to my dorm, I was still in a daze. I stared out the window. Was I really leaving? I was sent to this city by my mother when I was ten. For college, I deliberately chose my dream school here just to escape her, and then I somehow ended up staying for grad school. Counting it all, I had been in this city for exactly ten years. There was a moon out tonight. The moonlight filtered through the curtains and hit the dorm floor. I was still a bit dazed, but there was no denying I felt lighter inside. I wanted to go. I wanted to escape. It was under these circumstances that Caleb called me. I never thought he would contact me again. Maybe to prove I didn’t care, I hadn’t blocked his number. Or maybe he was calling because my sister wanted to revel in the sound of my crying? I only hesitated for two seconds before answering. “What do you want?” There was the sound of wind on his end, and no one spoke for a moment. “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” He finally spoke: “The dogwood flowers are blooming beautifully tonight.” That single sentence instantly yanked my thoughts back to our apartment. Every night, the shadows of the dogwood blossoms would project onto the floor, swaying in the breeze under the moonlight. The two complementing each other… it really was beautiful. Now, my head just throbbed. I wanted to be decisive, but I barely kept my tone in check: “What the hell does that mean? Stop calling me. We have nothing to do with each other.” “I’m outside your old apartment building. Can we meet?” I had witnessed his wedding to Vivienne with my own eyes. I had seen the tender way he looked at her. And now? Barely a month into his marriage, he was coming to see his ex’s ex. It just made me sick. It made me wonder what kind of garbage I had actually been in love with. He didn’t know I had moved out, and kept talking: “Baby, come down and see me. Let me explain.” “I had my reasons.” I felt utterly disgusted and snapped: “Get lost.” I hung up, deleted his contact, and blocked the number. 8 These past few weeks, I had been running non-stop between the lab and my freelance gigs, but I felt more grounded than ever before. I could escape. I never had to come back here. The moment that thought popped up, I felt happy. I went to submit my project proposals and reports, but was told they wouldn’t be accepted. My heart sank. I couldn’t get a clear reason why; they just said they didn’t meet requirements. But they had accepted the exact same format just a month ago. Why was it suddenly a problem now? I didn’t give up and went to the next company I had collaborated with before. Same result. Rejected. A total of four proposals, three biological research reports, and one new drug testing result. All the companies I had previously negotiated with rejected them, as if they had all attended the same training seminar. Even their excuses were identical: they didn’t meet company standards. Holding my backpack, I waited outside the office of a company I had worked with multiple times, unable to understand what had gone wrong. When the VP I usually dealt with came out, I immediately stood up. The dizziness from sitting for so long made me feel slightly nauseous, but I didn’t stop. I pushed forward through sheer willpower. “VP Davis, can we talk?” The words tumbled out. At the same time, another voice pierced my eardrums even more clearly: “Then I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Mrs. Thorne. Let me know if you need anything.” As the dizziness faded, the scene before me came into focus. VP Davis, who had always been so professional with me, was now completely silent, respectfully holding the door open for the person behind him. Mrs. Thorne walked out, chatting and laughing with the people around her. Her gaze fell on me imperceptibly, and the person next to her immediately chimed in: “Where did this little girl come from? Shoo, go away.” Mrs. Thorne’s expression didn’t change. She still wore the same elegant smile she had when she walked out the door. “Thank you for your trouble. I look forward to the launch of the new drug.” She was deliberately saying it for me to hear, making no secret of the reason why nobody was accepting my project proposals. The VP I knew stood respectfully behind them, bowing repeatedly. I realized then that Mrs. Thorne wasn’t going to completely ignore me like she had so many times before. She stopped in front of me, acting as if she had just noticed me, adjusting her glasses with a look of feigned surprise: “Oh, what are you doing here? What is your business?” The scent of her perfume washed over me. Her makeup was flawless, while my clothes were stuck to my back from the sweltering heat. I knew I looked like a complete mess right now. I opened my mouth to explain, but the person next to her jumped in immediately: “Oh, you know Mrs. Thorne? What a coincidence! This young girl did some drug testing for our company before.” Mrs. Thorne smiled again: “Well, that’s unfortunate. The Thorne Group is handling the drug testing for this project.” “What a shame. I guess we won’t be collaborating anymore.” Listening to them tag-team their insults, I gripped my reports tightly. These were things I had stayed up for nights to produce; every word was written in blood. I knew about corporate suppression, and she had a thousand ways to crush me. But this time, why did she go out of her way to reach out and strike someone she usually ignored completely? I didn’t understand, and I wasn’t willing to let it go. But her next words cleared up my confusion. “Come back to the family estate this weekend. Vivienne and Caleb will be there. You should come and give your blessings to your sister and brother-in-law.” “Are you very short on money right now? If you come, the Thorne family will sponsor you.” Her words dripped with superiority, like she was offering charity. I gripped my papers tightly and shook my head: “No thank you, Mrs. Thorne. I have to work, I’m very busy. I won’t be going.” Her face changed. She took a few steps forward, closing the distance between us, completely disregarding the other people present. She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. Smack. My head snapped to the side. She resumed her usual elegance, leaned in close to my ear, and whispered softly: “What kind of delusions are you harboring? Just because Caleb came looking for you once, you really thought you two were boyfriend and girlfriend?” “What right do you have to speak to me like that? You will go whether you want to or not.” “Weren’t you the one begging to get into the Thorne family in the first place? Who are you pulling this attitude for now?” … I understood now. This unprovoked hostility, demanding I go to the Thorne estate when she despised me the most—it was because she knew Caleb had come looking for me. But at the same time, she reminded me of something. My mind flashed back to the woman who taught me to always maintain my elegance, kneeling in front of the Thorne family’s door, kowtowing relentlessly, just begging them to take me back. Covering my cheek, I lowered my head and answered, word by word: “I’ll go.”

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When the arrogant and wild rookie, Vexx, first joined the team, he always loved to clash with me. But gradually, I noticed something changing in the way he looked at me. Fans flooded the comments: [Bro, you’re looking real good right now.] [Ray, your teammate is totally gay! Better guard your six and keep running!] Just when everyone was shipping us like crazy, living for the chaos, Vexx publicly announced his new girlfriend and posted: [I am completely straight! Stop trying to pair me up with a girly-man like Ray, okay? Anyone shipping us needs to get their head checked…] 1 Ten minutes after Julian posted his official announcement on X (formerly Twitter), it blew up the trending topics. Which wasn’t surprising. After all, he was highly skilled, insanely popular, and had a face handsome enough to cause a stir. For an esports player, a normal relationship announcement wouldn’t be this explosive. The reason it blew up was… Rather than a simple announcement, it looked more like Julian was desperately throwing a selfie with a beautiful woman in everyone’s faces just to prove he was straight. And, as a bonus, he completely severed ties with his teammate. Unfortunately, that teammate was me. My in-game ID is Volt. “Ray” or “Ray-mom” is the derogatory nickname haters gave me because they think I’m too effeminate, hence bestowing me with the word “mom.” To be honest, I wasn’t angry about this at all. Applying feminine traits to me… was actually a compliment. It represents the strongest, bravest force in the world. Besides… I actually am a girl. The esports circle is different from the entertainment industry. Esports fans never coddle anyone: [Lmao, does this kid not know ‘Ray-mom’ is a derogatory term? Volt has been carrying your team for two years, even if he hasn’t won it all, he’s put in the work, right? And this is how he gets treated by a rookie? @VG_Esports] [If the org doesn’t step in after this kind of public tear-down, Volt will probably transfer next season… maybe even retire. Sigh, three consecutive runner-up finishes is too heartbreaking.] [Getting first in the regular season went straight to your head, huh? Tearing the team apart before the playoffs even start, are you guys even going to play?] [Even as a hardcore Volt hater, I can’t stand this. Julian is way too arrogant. Is this the future of the LCS? What a joke!] Scrolling through these comments, I couldn’t help but let out a soft scoff. It was true. Julian had just debuted this year. Just a few days ago, he won Rookie of the Year and Regular Season MVP. He was widely acknowledged as the future hope of the LCS. Yeah. Widely acknowledged. I didn’t acknowledge it. Because I wasn’t a guy. “Volt” wasn’t me. It was actually my twin brother, Liam Sullivan. Two years ago, he hit rank one on the North American server and signed with the VG organization for a multi-million dollar contract. But then… The day before he was supposed to report to the team house, he slipped in the shower and broke his right hand. We originally planned to tell the truth, but the moment we saw the penalty clause for breaching the contract, we completely scrapped that idea. Left with no choice, I had to cut my hair short and pretend to be Liam to play Jungler for VG. In ancient times, Mulan took her father’s place in the army. Today, I, Lily Sullivan, was playing in my brother’s place. Thank God the game he played was League of Legends. If it had been any other game, my brother and I would probably be bankrupt and starving on the streets. I originally thought I’d just stall for a bit, and once his hand healed, we’d switch back. But who knew… Liam’s injury was too severe. Even after recovering, it was incredibly hard for him to regain his previous mechanical agility. And so… I stalled all the way to the final year of the contract. This year was my third year playing for VG. I had an agreement with Liam: whether he could make a comeback or not, I had to go back to living my own life. Therefore… Whether “Volt” would retire depended entirely on the results of Liam’s physical therapy. 2 After Julian threw that massive fit, our manager, Dave, couldn’t sit still. He rushed back to the team house in the middle of the night, only wearing one sock. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, his face etched with worry as he asked: “Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing now?!” Julian was messing with his phone, non-stop arguing with people in the comments section, not even bothering to look up. Seeing he couldn’t get through to him, Dave forced a smile and turned to try and placate me: “Ray, man, why don’t you post on X and clarify things? Just say you guys have a great relationship and Julian just lost his head because of those crazy shippers.” I let out a cold laugh, turned my face away, and said nothing. The atmosphere in the practice room was heavy. Even our usually good-tempered Support, Marcus, uncharacteristically muted his mic and continued grinding solo queue with a bitter expression. Finally, our Top Laner, Ethan, stepped up to break the ice: “We have a scrim scheduled with TG at 10 PM. Let’s stop queuing up after this game. I’ll make the custom lobby.” “I’m good. I’m going out to the balcony for some fresh air. Call me when everyone’s ready.” Hearing my voice, Julian finally looked up: “My bad, Volt. I acted impulsively earlier and couldn’t control my temper. It wasn’t directed at you. I just think those fangirls shipping us are disgusting, don’t you think?” He flashed a toothy grin. But there was zero warmth in his eyes. His striking, arrogant face showed absolutely no sign of apology. Instead, it looked like… He was faintly expectant. I stopped, frowned, and replied: “First of all, we don’t have shippers. The entire league knows our relationship is garbage. It’s all just trolls and haters intentionally trying to disgust people. Girls aren’t that desperate. Stop fighting imaginary enemies and throwing around ‘fangirls’ like an insult. Second, apologies require a ‘sorry’. And obviously, even if you said it, I wouldn’t accept it. Finally…” I hooked the corner of my mouth, looking him up and down scrutinizingly: “Julian, homophobia is just closeted behavior. What exactly are you afraid of? Don’t worry, even if I were gay, I wouldn’t be interested in someone like you.” Straight guys really have this baffling delusion that everyone, male or female, is attracted to them. Julian was so furious he laughed. He sat there quietly, a storm brewing in his eyes: “Liam, before I actually get mad, you’d better take that back.” “Okay, you’re mad. Then what? You’re going to int the scrims? Or post a few more tweets and have your haters come flame me with you? Go ahead, knock yourself out. I just lost my verified badge anyway, you guys can help boost my engagement metrics.” I shrugged and smiled nonchalantly. Julian’s face darkened significantly. I continued: “Julian, you’re a pro player. Whether it’s an official match or a scrim, if you want to troll, I can’t stop you. The only career you’re throwing away is your own.” “You think I’m like you? What gives a three-time runner-up trash like you the right to lecture me?” Hearing this, my face drained of color. I clenched my fists tight. Seeing Julian about to say something else, Ethan stood up and said coldly: “Don’t cross the line.” “Mind your own business.” Seeing the situation spiraling, Dave quickly called the head coach over to separate us. I shook my head. Sighed. I pulled Ethan to the side, then raised my head, trying my best to look Julian straight in the eye: “You’re confident, and that’s a good thing. But Julian, in esports, no one wins forever.” We were currently on the same team. I wouldn’t curse Julian to lose matches just out of spite. But I would wait… For the moment he fell from his pedestal. “Ray, Ethan, TG’s Mid Laner is rushing us. Let’s just play the scrim first.” Marcus took off his headset, glaring blankly at Julian. Then he waved the two of us over. The three of us exchanged a look… and inexplicably let out a bitter laugh. Right. The three unlucky bastards with three consecutive second-place finishes were all right here. Julian really was a buy-one-get-two-free deal. Insult one, get the whole package. 3 The drama that night ended with the social media manager logging into both of our X accounts and posting a PR-crafted essay for each of us. They even posted a photo of the two of us with our arms around each other’s shoulders, looking chummy. They hoped to dispel the rumors of a Mid/Jungle rift. It was just a pity that observant fans quickly deduced from our styling that… The photo was from a commercial shoot last month. As for the scrim, there were no surprises. Julian still refused to listen to the draft plan or shotcalling. He locked in Fizz, and proceeded to int across all three lanes for the rest of the game. I knew it… A mad dog like him would never listen to a word I said. Right before bed. A friend request suddenly popped up on Discord, and the message attached sent a shiver of disgust down my spine: [Volt, sweetie, I’m Julian’s girlfriend.] … I can’t take this anymore. Could I get any more ridiculous nicknames? Holding firm to the belief that the enemy of my enemy is definitely my enemy… I simply blocked the friend request, pretending I never saw it. 4 After the Spring Split regular season ended, Julian absolutely crushed the competition with 14 MVP awards, securing both the Rookie of the Split and the Regular Season MVP honors. On the podium, he was as ill-mannered as ever: “The people I should thank the most for getting these awards are my teammates, right? Especially the Jungler. If Volt didn’t carry so hard, how would it ever be my turn to steal so many MVPs?” The regular season awards ceremony wasn’t a huge affair; they usually just breezed through it before the first Best of 5 (BO5) of the playoffs. So when Julian said that, I was sitting right behind him adjusting my peripherals. The broadcast appropriately cut to my camera feed, followed by a tidal wave of deafening screams from the crowd. Everyone knows esports doesn’t have fans, only trolls. So no matter how much Julian and I hated each other, there were always spectators in the audience who loved the drama and shipped our “pure hatred” dynamic. Especially after Julian’s announcement fiasco a few days ago. The number of our shippers didn’t decrease; it surged. Rumor had it they were all doing it just to piss Julian off. And this massive wave of engagement… The event organizers obviously weren’t going to miss out on it. So the host practically crossed the entire stage to shove a microphone in my face: “I wonder what player Volt has to say about this?” I flicked my bangs out of my eyes, deliberately lowered my voice, and replied: “Ah, nothing really. As long as he knows he stole them, that’s fine.” Seeing Julian’s face completely darken, I finally felt a bit of satisfaction. I smiled, pushed the microphone away, and went back to adjusting my gear. Marcus shook his head: “Why did you have to provoke him? He’s just going to int again later.” “Let him. Are we supposed to coddle him through every match forever? I’m not his mother.” Just as I finished speaking, Julian returned to the lineup to adjust his equipment. He strode past me and sneered: “That’s not impossible either. After all, you look like a girl anyway.” I opened my mouth, but didn’t retort. But Ethan, next to me, furrowed his brow: “Julian, can you watch your mouth for once?” “Why do you always butt in when I’m talking to Liam?” Julian glared at Ethan over my head, looking incredibly annoyed. “Uh, referee, please help me lower the Mid Laner’s volume. Thanks.” Our newly imported Korean AD Carry couldn’t understand English well, which was fine, but he was also completely oblivious and couldn’t read the room at all. He just thought Julian was being noisy. Consequently… Marcus and Ethan casually chimed in: “Referee, lower the Mid Laner’s volume for Support.” “Referee, lower the Mid Laner’s volume for Top Laner.” Me… I couldn’t lower it. Because I was the Jungler. League of Legends is a Mid/Jungle game. Even though Julian hadn’t trolled in an official match yet, I still couldn’t relax. I deliberately used his ID to give him a final reminder: “Alright, Vexx, knock it off. We’re entering draft phase.” Playoffs have a double-elimination bracket, so both teams played relatively relaxed. We ultimately moved on to the next round with a 3:1 victory. Team XY fell to the lower bracket to fight another day. I thought it was just an unremarkable BO5, but who knew… By evening, the hashtag #VGTeamBullying was trending on X. 5 It started because the pre-match conversation with the referee was cut into the official broadcast comms. Instantly, the internet exploded with different opinions: [Feel so bad for Julian. I didn’t expect Volt to be the only one who didn’t join in…] [Min-ho Lee (the Korean AD) leads the bullying and you do nothing? @VG_Esports. Koreans love pulling this seniority crap, and you just watch your own player get bullied?] [It’s not that serious… What are Julian’s mom-fans throwing a fit about now?] [The drama clearly started on Reddit first… Stop blaming Julian’s fans!] [What’s all the fighting for? It’s such a minor thing! Reddit guys are so petty, can you just leave?] Ethan scrolled through the comments section: “Wow, Ray. I got my verified badge taken away before you did.” “Congratulations.” I clapped calmly. Marcus had escaped disaster because he had already deleted his X account. Min-ho Lee looked at him with envy: “I just made account, you no tell me.” “Are you jealous? After we played the final game last year, I traded my whole family’s safety for it.” After the finals last year, “Marcus Mad Cow Disease” hung on the trending list for three whole days. His entire family was almost “confiscated” by the netizens. Thinking back on it, he still had lingering trauma. He glanced at Julian, who was sitting nearby with his headphones on, and muttered: “What a joke. Bullying him? He basically bullies the four of us…” “Vouch!” “+1” I also gave a thumbs up, agreeing with Marcus. Julian let out a cold snort: “It’s not a big deal. I’ll just clarify it and it’ll be fine.” “It’s all just people chasing shadows. Just don’t mention it and it’ll blow over. The official league is just milking our team for engagement…” Dave stopped Julian, smiling bitterly. I looked at his thinning hair and felt a rare pang of sympathy: “Let’s just focus on the matches first. Winning fixes everything.” “Tch! Stop looking so depressed, Dave! Just wait till I bring back that first-place trophy for you!” Julian deliberately emphasized the words “first place.” Looking at his arrogant, naive face, I sighed secretly in my heart. My final year… Will probably end with nothing to show for it either. 6 Since the start of the season, the most discussed topic around the VG team was— Could they break the second-place curse this season? The answer was… We broke it. Just in the opposite direction. This time, we didn’t even manage to scrape a second-place finish… We were unexpectedly knocked out in the semifinals, proudly taking home third place. In that moment… The word “DEFEAT” felt like a knife, stabbing viciously into my heart. It was over. My first half of the year. I closed my eyes in despair, then took off my headset. Ready to face the hurricane of the fans’ wrath. Marcus was crying so hard he couldn’t stand straight. Ethan and I exchanged a look, helped him up, and walked to the front of the stage together, bowing deeply and ashamedly to the fans: “We’re sorry for letting everyone down.” Julian wasn’t with us. The moment the match ended, he threw off his headset and walked off the stage. He hid in the locker room and refused to participate in the post-match interviews. Ethan knocked on the door to no avail, his face dark as he cursed: “Coward.” A few seconds later, Julian came out with red eyes. His voice was hoarse: “I’ll take responsibility for the match I lost.” “Take responsibility with what? How many times did I tell you not to play so aggressive without vision?! If you can’t win the trade, call for help! Aren’t you usually so talkative? Why do you turn mute the second you get into a game? You’re still young! You’re only 18! You have time to waste! We don’t!” Seeing Julian, Marcus, who had just calmed down, broke down again. He rushed forward, grabbed Julian by the collar, and roared. I rubbed my sore eyes, took a deep breath, stepped forward, and tried to mediate: “Alright, it’s fine. You guys go rest for a bit. I’ll handle the interview by myself.” “I’ll go with Ray. We’re top-tier damage sponges for getting flamed. Don’t worry, and stop crying.” Ethan patted Marcus, trying hard to force a smile. However, Marcus wiped his tears: “I’m coming too.” After arguing for ages, Min-ho Lee only understood the word “too.” So he quickly raised his hand: “Too, together, no matter what do.” I nodded. Then together it is. Julian didn’t say anything; he just silently followed behind us.

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