Category: English

The boy next door used to be a piano prodigy. He had won countless awards by the time he was fifteen. But after he met my classmate, he gladly let her sit on his beloved piano and kiss him. He threw away his education for her, smashed his piano to pieces, and spiraled into total ruin. So, I told his parents. Because of that, the boy next door was forced to go abroad to study at a conservatory. Years later, he made a massive name for himself. He became the brightest, most untouchable superstar in the entertainment industry. And I ended up as a trainee at his management agency. Without even looking up, he pointed a finger at me. “I’ll take her.” That very night, my manager got me blackout drunk and sent me into the hotel rooms of powerful corporate investors. He stood by the doorway, biting down on a cigarette, and chuckled softly. “Consider this my way of thanking you for snitching on me back then.” I was abused to death on that freezing winter night. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before any of it had happened. 1 “Don’t you think dragging the untouchable golden boy down from his pedestal would be a total rush?” “His lips are so thin. I wonder if he’s a good kisser.” My desk-mate rested her chin on her hand, teasing playfully. Directly across the courtyard, a tall, striking silhouette sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was eighteen-year-old Caleb Bennett. I snapped out of my daze, clutching my chest and gasping heavily for air. I turned my head. The girl sitting next to me was my classmate, Ashley. In my previous life, she had sat exactly like this, resting her chin on her hand, staring at Caleb with a flirtatious gaze, looking absolutely determined to conquer him. Back then, I just thought she was talking big. But that very night, I saw her sitting on top of Caleb’s grand piano. Looking down and kissing him. I was back. I had been reborn, returning to the time before everything went wrong. I forced myself to stay calm and reached out to shut the window. “I need to study. If you don’t have anything else to do, go back to your own house.” Ashley pouted. “Aren’t you curious? I thought you had a crush on him.” I froze instantly. When I was seventeen, I made two massive mistakes. One, I secretly harbored a crush on the boy next door, but never had the courage to confess my teenage feelings. Two, I snitched on his secret relationship with Ashley. Because of that, he hated me for six years. He didn’t even hesitate to destroy me just to exact revenge for that betrayal. Thinking back to that desperate, freezing winter night in my past life… I squeezed my fingers tight, my teeth biting into my lower lip until it bled. 2 “No, I never had a crush on him.” I replied with deadpan calm. Ashley smiled slyly, the corners of her mouth curling up. “Good, then I don’t have to feel bad. I wasn’t sure how to tell you that Caleb and I are officially together. I didn’t want to trigger you.” In my past life, Ashley had brazenly staked her claim exactly like this. Ashley was a total player. Almost every decent-looking guy in school had dated her at some point. She was loud and unapologetic. While everyone else was stressing over SATs and finals, she was busy dating, smoking, drinking, and hitting the clubs. She was the exact opposite of a “good girl.” But girls like her possess a fatal attraction for guys who have spent their whole lives following the rules. Caleb was clearly one of them. I remembered the moments right before my death in my previous life. My hands, covered in cigarette burns, desperately clutching the cuff of Caleb’s crisp white shirt. I begged him to let me go. “Even if you hate me, you shouldn’t do it like this.” But Caleb just looked down at me, his cold lips curling into a smirk. He scoffed. “And how should I do it, Chloe? If it weren’t for you, Ashley wouldn’t have been forced to marry someone else, and she wouldn’t have died in childbirth. Why does she have to be dead while you get to live a perfectly happy life?” “Chloe, it’s just not fair.” He was right. Because of my snitching in our past life, Caleb was forced to move overseas. Ashley, distracted by the romance, bombed her conservatory auditions and ended up marrying a local street punk. Not long after, she got pregnant out of wedlock. Her parents disowned her. The punk bailed on her, and she ultimately bled out in a sketchy back-alley clinic. Caleb always believed that if I hadn’t told his parents, he never would have left the country. And Ashley never would have died. So, it was all my fault. I lowered my eyes. “That’s great for you guys. I wish you a long, happy life together.” Ashley gave me a weird look but didn’t say anything else. 3 Days passed by. The two of them dated in secret. Like all teenage couples, they skipped class to catch movies, got matching tattoos on their chests, and kissed on romantic Ferris wheel rides. They rode motorcycles through the midnight streets. They completely forgot that their primary identity was supposed to be high school students. I watched all of this with cold indifference. Meanwhile, I nervously prepped for my college entrance exams. In my previous life, heavily influenced by Caleb, I had chosen to attend the same performing arts high school as him, training to be a musician. I spent my life chasing his shadow, desperately hoping to touch his light. Now, I was planning to drop the arts track and switch back to standard academics. I was going to retake the standard exams and forge my own path. It was undeniably going to be a brutal uphill battle, but no matter how hard it was, I wanted to try. Until one day, I overheard Ashley bragging to some girls at school: “Caleb is just a piano nerd. He doesn’t know anything about the real world. Honestly, if he wasn’t famous for winning all those competitions and didn’t make me look good, I wouldn’t even be dating him.” Classmate A: “Yeah, right. Like he’d actually fall for you? He’s probably just messing around with you.” Ashley confidently fired back, “Don’t test me. If I tell him to jump, he asks how high.” Classmate B: “I heard he has a massive piano competition coming up. If you’re so powerful, make him skip it.” Ashley smirked. “That’s easy. Just wait and see.” I was sitting right nearby. And I knew that winning first place in that competition guaranteed a full-ride scholarship to a prestigious European conservatory. I knew exactly how important this competition was to him. Sure enough, even without my interference, the major turning point of my past life was still unfolding. In my previous life, I knew Ashley had ulterior motives. I dropped hints to Caleb several times, but he just thought I was a jealous drama queen trying to ruin their relationship. After hesitating for days, I finally chose to tell his parents. With his parents stepping in, the fallout was massive. The two were forced to break up. Caleb, devastated and completely out of it, ended up losing the first-place trophy anyway. However, he still secured an opportunity to study abroad. But he held a grudge against me for years because of it. To the point where he personally destroyed my life. By the time I snapped out of my thoughts, Ashley had leaned close to my face. She winked at me. “Chloe, you’re not going to snitch, are you?” I looked down, calmly flipping the page of my textbook. “Of course not.” This time around, I chose silence. I would respect other people’s fate. 4 Until I saw Caleb sitting on my front porch. This was the first time I had crossed paths with him since I was reborn. Thinking about what he had done to me in our past life… I swallowed down my nausea. I glanced down. Shattered beer bottles were scattered all over the ground around him. Blood was dripping steadily from his hands. The moment he saw me, he scrambled up from the ground and grabbed me, his eyes completely bloodshot. “Chloe, you and Ashley are close, right? Can you please call her for me? She said she wants to break up. I really can’t lose her.” “She said playing piano is boring. I can stop playing! The piano will never be as important as her. Just help me, please?” “I’m completely out of options. I love her. I’d give up anything for her.” I stared at the pathetic boy standing in front of me. His radiant halo was completely gone. His long, elegant, pale fingers were slashed open by glass, but he didn’t seem to care at all. In my memories, he used to guard those hands with his life. He used to say he was grateful to God for giving him hands that could play such beautiful music. He loved the rhythm of his fingers dancing across the keys. But right now, to him, a pianist’s most precious asset meant absolutely nothing compared to Ashley. He was no longer the boy I used to have a crush on. I suppose a first love is only beautiful when it stays a memory. I thought for a second, pulled out my phone, and dialed Ashley’s number. “Ashley, Caleb is drunk outside my house. Can you come over?” He stood carefully beside me, staring at the phone with desperate, hopeful eyes. Ashley seemed to scoff on the other end of the line. Then she said, “Ask him for me—is it true he’d do absolutely anything for me?” I had it on speakerphone, so Caleb heard it perfectly. He panicked and practically yelled, “Of course I can!” “Then don’t go to the competition.” With that, Ashley hung up the phone. Leaving a stunned Caleb standing rigidly on the porch. I studied Caleb carefully. I wanted to see what choice he would make in this life, without my interference. Dreams versus love. Which one would he choose? Caleb kept his head down. It took a long time before he finally let out a bitter laugh. “Is giving up the competition really the only way to prove how much she means to me?” He clearly wasn’t asking me. But I knew he already had his answer. I didn’t say a word. I just watched him turn around and walk away, looking completely defeated.

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I have a strange illness: if I don’t kiss someone, I suffer from severe, paralyzing chest pains that flare up out of nowhere. Worse yet, the only person whose kiss can cure me is my lifelong archenemy, Nate Nelson. One second, I’m glaring at him with pure hatred, and the next, I’m tugging at the hem of his shirt with teary eyes, begging, “Can you just kiss me, please?” He raised a surprised eyebrow, let out a low chuckle, and asked, “Any way I want?” 1. Nate Nelson and I have been mortal enemies since childhood. It all stems from our parents. My dad and his dad grew up together and have constantly compared themselves to one another since day one. Both of them are fiercely competitive and refuse to ever settle for second place. From middle school onward, they competed over grades and trophies. Once they started working, they competed over promotions, salaries, and eventually, their families. When Nate and I were born, they naturally passed the torch of competition down to us. When I was a kid, if I scored even one point lower than Nate, my dad would shake his head in disappointment and sign me up for another summer prep course. That’s how all my happy childhood vacations vanished into thin air. Because of this, I harbored a deep, burning hatred for the sole culprit behind my misery: Nate Nelson. 2. The day the SAT scores came out, my dad went absolutely insane with joy. I scored a 1520, practically guaranteeing my spot at Columbia University, a top-tier Ivy League school. I was thrilled too, mostly because I had discreetly fished for information from Nate right after the exam. He had looked completely exhausted and muttered, “I bombed it.” This meant we finally wouldn’t have to go to the same school! I would never have to look at his highly punchable face ever again! My dad immediately called Nate’s dad, his voice dripping with faux sympathy. “Hey, Mr. Reed! Did Nate get his scores back yet? Oh man, let me tell you, our Chloe really didn’t perform her best this time. She only got a 1520! Looks like she’ll have to settle for Columbia.” I have to admit, my dad’s humblebragging was incredibly obnoxious. A booming voice came through the speakerphone. “Huh? What? Only a 1520? Tsk, yeah, that really is a bit disappointing. “My boy just checked his score too. What did you get again, son? My memory is going bad in my old age. Tell your dad what you got one more time.” A lazy, drawling voice echoed through the line: “1560.” “Oh, right, a 1560! Well, looks like my son didn’t do so hot either. He’ll just have to make do with Columbia too,” Nate’s dad sighed, his tone dripping with fake pity, every single word a fatal stab to the chest. My dad and I practically coughed up blood simultaneously. Furious, I whipped out my phone and texted Nate. Me: “Didn’t you say you bombed it?! You played me!” Me: “[Dog breathing fire meme.jpg]” Nate: “I didn’t get a perfect 1600. Does that not count as bombing?” Nate: “Gotta run. See you at Columbia.” My fingers were practically sparking as I furiously typed against my screen. I could picture exactly what Nate looked like right now. He was definitely sitting somewhere slouched and lazy, wearing a smug smirk while slowly typing out the most arrogant, rage-inducing responses imaginable. Why?! Why couldn’t I even escape him in college?! If God made Chloe, why did He have to make Nate?! 3. The good news was, even though Nate and I ended up at the same university, he was on the Pre-Law track while I was an English Lit major. Our departments were on completely opposite sides of the campus. In the first month of school, I had barely run into him. I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t run into him for the next four years. We could just be the most familiar strangers in the world. But my roommates didn’t share that sentiment. “Ahhhh! Girls, there’s an intramural basketball game today! Comp Sci versus Pre-Law! Guess who’s playing for Pre-Law?!” Mia squealed, clutching her phone and practically vibrating with excitement. Lexi, who always loved the drama, quickly asked, “Who? Who?! Are there hot guys?” Our edgy roommate, Roxy, raised an eyebrow. “Look at Mia drooling. It’s obviously the Pre-Law poster boy, Nate Nelson. You guys know ever since he blew up on the Campus Confessions Instagram page, Mia has been tracking his every move.” Mia giggled, blinking her big eyes. “I care about all hot guys equally. So, are we going or what?” “Let’s go. We don’t have anything better to do,” Lexi and Roxy agreed without hesitation. “Chloe, you coming?” Mia turned to me. I had absolutely zero desire to see my archenemy. Talk about bad vibes. I waved my hand. “I think I’ll pass…” Before I could finish my sentence, a robotic, electronic voice suddenly echoed inside my head. [Debuff: Angina attack. Countdown: 30 minutes.] [Cure: Kiss Nate Nelson for 5 seconds.] W-What the hell?! Was I suddenly the protagonist of some sci-fi simulation game?! 4. The cure was way too twisted. Kiss my sworn enemy?! Ha! I, Chloe Cooper, would rather die of a heart attack or jump out of a fifth-floor window today before I ever set foot on that basketball court! 5. “Wow! Chloe, did you see that?! Nate just sank another three-pointer! He is so hot!” Mia shook my arm violently, screaming until her voice cracked. To be fair, amidst the deafening roar of the crowd, her high-decibel squeal just blended into the background noise. I covered my ears and shuffled a little further away from her. Looking down at the court, staring at that tall, glowing figure standing out among the sweaty players, I felt a little guilty. Ahem. I was purely here because I love watching college boys play basketball. I totally hadn’t chickened out of my own boycott. Besides, I wasn’t here to see Nate. I was here to see— The Comp Sci player in the white number 8 jersey just passed the ball to a teammate. Catching my eye, he smiled and waved at me. Oh? I didn’t know he played too. A bit surprised, I waved back. Yep, that’s right. I was here to see him. It had absolutely nothing to do with Nate. Before I could even lower my hand, Nate, wearing his black jersey, followed Number 8’s line of sight and looked right at me. Seeing me, he seemed to freeze for a second. Then, his face went ice-cold and he swiftly looked away. That familiar, infuriating spark of rage ignited in my chest. What the hell was that expression?! Was he disgusted by me?! I hadn’t even rolled my eyes at his bad vibes yet!! I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white. “Chloe, why do you look like you’re about to murder someone?” Lexi asked, sounding slightly terrified. “Nothing, nothing. Just saw a really annoying bug, but I already squashed it.” I quickly fixed my expression and forced a smile. Roxy winked at me. “Hey, that cute guy who waved at you earlier is Caleb Hayes, a pretty well-known guy in Comp Sci. Fess up. How do you know him? What’s the tea?” I waved my hands frantically. “Don’t misunderstand! During move-in day, Caleb was a campus volunteer. He helped carry my luggage, we chatted a bit, and exchanged socials. We don’t even talk that much.” “Oh~ Sure~” Lexi and Roxy exchanged a look, dragging out their words suspiciously. Just then, Mia screamed, “Ahhh! What is going on with Nate and Caleb?! They suddenly started playing so aggressively! Two hot guys battling it out—I’m living for this!” I turned my attention back to the court. Nate cleanly dribbled past a defender, only to be blocked by Caleb. The atmosphere was suddenly suffocatingly tense, invisible sparks flying between their locking gazes. Suddenly, Nate moved. Caleb shifted left to block him, entirely falling for a fake-out. The crowd held its breath. Nate charged the hoop, leaped into the air, grabbed the rim with one hand, and delivered a flawless, thunderous slam dunk! “Hell yeah!” “Ahhhh, that was amazing!” Cheers and screams erupted from the bleachers. Yet the center of attention—Nate—just landed smoothly, his dark eyes entirely unbothered, as if that spectacular dunk was just a walk in the park. Tsk. What a show-off. I curled my lip in disgust. As he jogged back to play defense, Nate seemed to throw a side-glance in my direction. He was provoking me. Not one to back down, I glared fiercely right back at him. Right at that moment, the electronic voice echoed in my ear again. [Countdown: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6…] My entire body went rigid. No way. This was actually real?! The moment the countdown hit “0”, my heart felt like it was being violently stabbed by a thousand needles. The pain was so agonizing I couldn’t breathe. My vision went black. Clutching my chest, I collapsed weakly to the floor as the crowd gasped around me. It hurts so much… [Cure: Kiss Nate Nelson for 5 seconds.] The robotic voice coldly repeated the instructions. “Chloe! Chloe Cooper! What’s wrong?! Don’t scare us!” My roommates panicked, screaming my name. The commotion on the sidelines caught the attention of the players. In my hazy state, I saw Nate drop the basketball, his face darkening as he sprinted toward me. “Chloe!” He dropped to one knee beside me, his deep eyes filled with raw panic, all his previous basketball-court arrogance completely gone. I felt Nate pull me into his arms, looking down at me. [Cure…] The pain was unbearable. Mustering the absolute last ounce of my strength, I lifted my head and pressed my lips directly against his. So soft. “!!” A ripple of shock crashed through Nate’s eyes, like a stone dropping into a clear spring. As the agonizing pain receded like a pulling tide, I heard a collective, massive gasp from the crowd around us. Oh my god, I actually kissed my archenemy. I had zero principles. Nate was definitely going to think I was secretly in love with him. He was going to be so obnoxiously smug about this! Amidst my spiraling thoughts, my consciousness faded into darkness. 6. When I woke up, I was already in the campus infirmary. My heart was beating perfectly normally, as if that suffocating agony had been a mere illusion. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a silhouette sitting by the bed. I turned my head and saw Nate slouching lazily in a chair, his long legs bent awkwardly in the cramped space. He was still wearing his black basketball jersey, which made his skin look even paler. He was looking down at his phone, his expression bored and relaxed. As if sensing my gaze, Nate looked up. The second I saw his face, my eyes unconsciously dropped to his lips. That soft, warm sensation seemed to linger in my mind, refusing to fade. “Chloe, why are you blushing?” Nate raised an eyebrow, looking at me with a half-smile. I instantly snapped my gaze away, pulling the blanket up to cover half my face, suddenly too terrified to look at him. “I’m just hot.” Nate stared intently at me, as if seeing right through me, but didn’t interrogate me any further. “Feeling better? The campus nurse said there’s nothing physically wrong with you.” “Much better.” I nodded. “Did you feel sick before you fainted? The nurse didn’t find anything, so you might need to get checked out at a real hospital.” His tone was surprisingly peaceful. I blinked. This was weird. Whenever Nate and I interacted, we usually ended up in a screaming match before exchanging two sentences. If he wasn’t throwing sarcastic jabs at me, I was mocking him. Seeing him act so genuinely concerned was giving me whiplash. “My heart just hurt a bit. I’ll go get it checked when I have time…” “Don’t tell my mom!” I quickly added. Even though our dads were sworn enemies, miraculously, my mom and his mom were absolute besties. Both women worried about us constantly. I had a strong premonition that this “angina” wouldn’t show up on any hospital scan anyway. There was no need to panic our families for nothing. A soft chuckle escaped Nate’s lips. “Fine.” His long, elegant fingers casually spun his phone around, but his dark eyes were locked directly on mine. “Under one condition: you explain why you kissed me first.” “Have a crush on me?”

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I am a flight attendant. My husband is incredibly successful, but he doesn’t love me. Every month, he takes a flight that I am working on. And every time, he brings a different glamorous woman by his side. My heart bleeds, but I can only endure it in silence. The last time, right before the plane was about to land, I walked over, leaned down to his ear, and whispered softly: “Carter, I agree to the divorce. I have tomorrow off. Let’s go get it done.” 1 The plane was cruising smoothly at thirty thousand feet. I was at the rear galley organizing the meal carts when the lead flight attendant, the purser, walked over. I stood up straight. “Purser.” She took the checklist from my hands and looked it over. “You’re qualified to be promoted to First Class service. Why don’t you put in for it?” “I don’t think I’m good enough yet. I still have a lot to learn.” “Humility is a virtue, but being too humble isn’t good for your career. Go heat up the meals.” She handed the checklist back to me and returned to First Class. My gaze followed her, landing on the passenger in seat 1A. No one on this crew knew that the VIP in First Class—our airline’s most elite black card holder—was my husband. But sitting next to him was a stunning, radiant woman. I couldn’t go to First Class. I couldn’t bring myself to smile, crouch down, and provide flawless service to my own husband and whatever woman he had brought along. Even though we had been married for a year, we had never truly been husband and wife. 2 I was forced onto Carter by his grandfather. My grandfather and Carter’s grandfather had served in the military together. On our wedding night, he unbuttoned his shirt halfway, stood up, and went out to the balcony to smoke. Halfway through his cigarette, he turned his head. “I own a lot of properties. I probably won’t be coming home every day. Do whatever you want with your time.” He kept his word. He only came back to our marital home about once a month. Later, rumors of him with other women started splashing across the tabloids. Before I even had the chance to call and ask him about it, he called me first. “If you want a divorce, I will agree to it at any time.” That single sentence choked the words right out of my throat. That day, all I could do was nod. “I understand.” A few weeks later, he came home. “Still haven’t filed?” At that moment, it hit me like a physical blow—he was desperate to end this marriage. I just went to bed early, completely ignoring the topic. In the middle of the night, my pillow was soaked with tears. No one knew that I had fallen in love with him a long time ago. We had actually met seven years prior. But he had long forgotten. 3 “Hello, here is your chicken entrée. Please enjoy.” After handing out the meals, I pulled the cart through the premium cabin. He was busy working on his laptop. The woman beside him, draped in a vibrant silk scarf, was admiring the clouds outside the window. The purser walked over and knelt politely beside them. “Sir, would you like to change into some slippers? I can help you with your shoes.” “I can manage, thank you.” He politely declined. “Ma’am, let me help you with your shoes so you can change into slippers.” The woman pulled her gaze away from the window. “Thank you.” The moment Carter looked up, our eyes met. I immediately averted my gaze, quickly pulling the meal cart down the aisle and out of sight. Two hours later, the plane landed. “Have a great day, goodbye.” As they deplaned, the woman linked her arm through his, the wind catching her long, wavy hair. 4 “Still staring? They’re already in their private car.” I turned around to find my colleagues grabbing their luggage bags, getting ready to disembark. “I’m sorry, Purser.” “Do you like him?” I shook my head instantly. “No.” She patted my shoulder and smiled. “Don’t pass up the next promotion.” 5 That night, Carter came home. I didn’t expect him to. When he walked in, I was sitting on the sofa, watching TV with damp hair. Honestly, my mind was entirely blank; I hadn’t absorbed a single second of the show. He was tall and imposing. The moment he stepped inside, the entire penthouse felt smaller. I wanted to ask him about earlier, but the image of them on the plane flashed through my mind, and I swallowed my words. He walked over, sat on the opposite sofa, and took a phone call. That was when I caught the faint scent of alcohol on him. I grabbed a bag of potato chips, ripped it open, and started eating them one by one. “Tomorrow, 9 AM morning briefing.” He hung up the phone and looked at me. I looked back at him. “Nothing you want to ask?” I shook my head. Putting the chips down, I walked into the bathroom. In the mirror, my face looked terrifyingly pale and quiet. When I came out, he was out on the balcony. A few seconds later, the glow from his phone screen vanished. He turned sideways, a faint smile lingering on his lips before it quickly faded away. I stood frozen, speechless. His happiness, in the end, had absolutely nothing to do with me. 6 He slept in the guest room. I woke up extremely early to head to the airport. He was up, too. The elevator descended, but we stood on opposite sides of the cab. When we reached the lobby, I stepped out, while he took it down to the parking garage. The weather that day was horrendous. During the flight, we encountered severe turbulence, and the plane dropped violently multiple times. After we finally landed safely, everyone wept in relief. That particular flight even went viral on the news. Standing in the bustling terminal, I stopped and checked my phone. Not a single call. My sorrow, in the end, had absolutely nothing to do with him either. 7 The next time I saw him was a month later, on a flight from JFK to LAX. The weather that day was absolutely gorgeous. The sun was shining brightly, and the flight was incredibly smooth. He brought the exact same girl from last time. She had very pale skin. Halfway through the flight, she rested her head on his shoulder and fell into a peaceful sleep. It also happened to be a holiday. International Women’s Day. The airline had prepared roses. “Ladies and gentlemen, today is International Women’s Day. Our airline has prepared a rose for every female passenger on board. May all the women flying with us today live fearlessly and gracefully.” “Happy holidays to you!” “Thank you, the airline is so thoughtful.” “I don’t even get flowers on normal holidays, who knew I’d get one on a plane.” “Happy holidays to you too, miss.” After handing out the flowers, I glanced toward the premium cabin. The purser was handing a rose to the girl sleeping beside him. “Happy holidays. I’ll just leave this flower on your tray table, alright?” “Sure.” 8 I went back to the galley, washed the serving trays, and sat down in my jump seat. I stared out at the sea of clouds. My heart felt quiet, yet it ached deeply. The clouds began to part. My freezing fingers twitched. I tilted my head back. Some people are just not meant to be yours. Let it go. Let him walk away. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be beginning our initial descent into LAX in thirty minutes… We hope to see you on your next journey.” The plane was about to lower its altitude. I stood up, walked over to him, and whispered softly. “Carter, I agree to the divorce. I have tomorrow off. Let’s go get it done.” 10 After work. I dragged a massive suitcase behind me. I pressed my thumb against the biometric lock and pushed the door open. Rarely, he was home early. Was it because we were getting a divorce? The penthouse wouldn’t feel so suffocating to him anymore, so he finally came home early? I hauled my suitcase inside. I started the rice cooker in the kitchen, then went to the master bedroom and began packing. He came and stood in the doorway for a moment. “Don’t pack. You can keep the house.” My body stiffened. I turned around and shook my head. “You bought this place before we got married. I didn’t contribute a single cent. I can’t take it.” With that, I went back to packing. He stood there for another minute before walking away. It was a good thing he left. Folding my clothes one by one into the suitcase, sweeping all my skincare bottles off the vanity and packing them away to take with me. It felt like I had merely been a temporary guest here. Now, it was time to move out. In that moment, I couldn’t feel even a shred of evidence that I was ever the lady of this house. Pathetic, pitiful, useless. 11 I hadn’t expected him to be home tonight. So I hadn’t bought any groceries. There was no need to act like the past, either. Whenever he came home before, I used to cook a multi-course meal, desperately trying to win his heart through his stomach. Once the rice was done, I went down to the deli on the ground floor and bought some cold salads and sides. “Let’s eat.” He put down his book by the floor-to-ceiling window and walked over. The food on the table clearly surprised him. “I thought you weren’t coming back and we were just meeting at the lawyers’ office tomorrow, so I didn’t buy groceries. We’ll just have to make do tonight.” I took a bite of plain white rice. To my surprise, the usually incredibly picky man actually sat down. We ate in total silence. Halfway through, he spoke. “Where did you buy the deli sides? They’re actually pretty good.” He even finished the entire bowl of rice I had scooped for him.

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At the age of eight, I was taken in by the Sinclair family as their adopted daughter. They treated me like their own flesh and blood, and my brother granted my every wish. At my eighteenth birthday party, I accidentally got drunk and laid my heart bare. —I confessed my feelings to my brother. I thought I had just made a fool of myself. But I never expected that Carter’s endless pampering would be entirely withdrawn after that night. 1 I could feel Carter deliberately distancing himself from me. He left early, came home late, and practically ignored my texts. Growing up, Carter was the quintessential aloof heartthrob in everyone’s eyes. No matter how much people hyped his cold demeanor, he still had two lockers full of love letters. But to me, Carter was just a normal, doting older brother. If I cried, he coaxed me; if I caused trouble, he cleaned up the mess. Others teasingly called him fiercely overprotective of his little sister. He never denied it. I always thought I was special to him. It wasn’t until I took a hard fall and busted my lip that I realized the truth. Without the label of “sister,” I was absolutely nothing. When I realized Carter had stopped coming home altogether, I couldn’t pretend nothing had happened anymore. Because I remembered, and Carter remembered too. Mom packed a thermos of soup and asked me to drop it off at his company and bring him home. “Your brother dotes on you the most. He’ll definitely listen to you.” I forced a smile, bitterness flooding my mouth. When I reached the top-floor executive suite, Carter was still working overtime. Seeing it was me, his face remained expressionless as he shifted his gaze back to his screen. I placed the thermos on his desk. The moment I opened the lid, the rich aroma of homemade chicken noodle soup filled the room. “Carter, Mom made this. She wants you to come home and stop working so late.” “Mhm.” I gripped my sleeves tightly and offered a bitter smile. “Carter, I’m sorry about that night… I hope I didn’t freak you out. I drank too much and mistook you for someone else. Please don’t take it to heart.” Carter finally shifted his gaze back to me, his dark eyes bottomless and unreadable. “Mistook me for someone else? I don’t think you know another guy named Carter. Emma, you called my name, told me you liked me, and kissed me.” All the color instantly drained from my face. Carter’s casual words had basically handed me a death sentence. I gripped my trembling hands, desperately trying to stay calm. “Carter, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He had never called me by my full first name before—not even when he was scolding me. So this was what he looked like when he completely stripped away his affection. “Carter, Mom is really worried about you. Just come home. This is your family, after all.” My voice grew hoarse. “If anyone should leave, it’s me. You don’t have to hide from me anymore. I’ll move out… Just stop hiding.” “Suit yourself,” he replied coldly. 2 I moved out, and stayed away for two whole years. I didn’t return home once during that time; I was even more ruthless than Carter. Mom called me more than once, crying and saying how much she missed me. All I felt was a suffocating sense of guilt. I was a complete and utter bitch. They treated me like blood, provided me with food and a luxurious life. Without them, I might have died a long time ago. Yet I was shameless enough to covet their real son. Even if they wanted me home, what right did I have to show my face there? When flu season hit, I unfortunately caught the bug. Just as I swallowed two cold pills, Mom’s call came through. Not wanting her to worry about my pale face, I immediately switched the FaceTime to an audio call. “Sweetie, what are you up to?” “Just got out of the shower.” “Did you wash your hair? Don’t blow-dry it all by yourself, okay? With your brother not around, I worry about you.” I froze, feeling a sudden wave of disorientation. Living alone for two years, I thought I had forgotten. Once, while drying my hair at home, I accidentally got a lock caught in the motor of the hairdryer. Ever since then, no matter how late or tired he was, Carter would always dry my hair for me. Through my hesitation, I inexplicably sensed that Mom was in a fantastic mood today. She said, “Sweetie, are you coming home tomorrow? I’ll have your brother pick you up.” Before I could answer, she dropped the bombshell. “Your brother is bringing his girlfriend home tomorrow.” “We’re all going to have dinner and officially meet her. Sound good? Mom misses you so much.” It felt like a grenade had gone off right next to my ear. My senses failed me. It felt like that shrapnel had hit me dead center, tearing me to shreds. “Emma?” I cleared my throat, forcing a tone of pleasant surprise. “No need to bother Carter! If he’s bringing his girlfriend home, I can just catch an Uber myself.” 3 Unsurprisingly, my fever spiked that night. Not wanting to face Carter and his girlfriend so soon, I took some fever reducers and dragged my feet until dinner time before finally heading to the Sinclair estate. The moment the door opened, Mom hugged me and started crying. “Oh, my sweet girl, how did you lose so much weight?!” Terrified she would notice my fever, I quickly brushed it off with a few comforting words. Mom led me to the dining room, and as my gaze shifted, I finally saw Carter and his girlfriend. According to Mom, the two of them had known each other in college. Reconnecting after starting their careers, they were more mature, and sparks naturally flew. The woman was elegant and beautiful, a perfect match for Carter. She was exactly the type I had always imagined he would like. “Hi Carter. Hi… sister-in-law.” I greeted them warmly, but my choice of words startled her. Mom laughed, patting my shoulder, and shot a look at the blushing Chloe before playfully scolding me. “Oh, this kid! Don’t mind her, Chloe. She’s just a bit clumsy with her words, but hey, it’s bound to happen sooner or later… haha.” Chloe quickly waved her hands in embarrassment, while Carter frowned, staring at me with clear displeasure. How had I managed to piss him off again? It was a title she’d have eventually anyway. The table was filled with my favorite dishes, but I had absolutely zero appetite. After dinner, instead of joining them on the couch for small talk, I ran upstairs to pack some things. My bedroom had a massive walk-in closet where I kept all the birthday gifts I had received over the years. My twelfth birthday present was a tiara. The princess aesthetic had been hugely popular back then. Seeing how much I loved it, Carter had one custom-made for me. He had handed it over so casually, as if he’d bought a cheap trinket from a flea market. It was densely packed with sparkling stones. For the longest time, I thought they were just rhinestones. I later found out they were real diamonds. But none of these belonged to me anymore. They belonged to Carter’s “little sister.” I grabbed a few items of clothing, threw them in a suitcase, and headed downstairs. Seeing me dragging a suitcase, Mom grew frantic. “Sweetie, you can’t stay the night?” “I have some stuff to take care of for grad school.” “Carter! Get Carter to drive you back.” Mom snatched the suitcase from my grip and shoved it into Carter’s hand. He and Chloe were standing shoulder-to-shoulder; they were clearly getting ready to leave together. Why would I third-wheel their romantic drive? Chloe had her arm linked with Carter’s, but Carter was now holding my luggage. No matter how you looked at it, the scene was completely comical. “It’s fine, really! I’ll just call an Uber.” “With your brother right here, why on earth would you take an Uber?” Mom spoke to me gently, then instantly whipped her head around to scold him. “Carter Sinclair! Is it really that agonizing to drive your sister home? Why do you look so miserable?! Chloe, you need to keep a tight leash on him. If you aren’t happy with him, yell at him. If he doesn’t fix his attitude, tell me. If he still doesn’t change, then dump him! A man like this is useless anyway.” Carter just stood there in silence, getting chewed out. At his company, he was the charismatic CEO everyone swooned over. At school, he was the untouchable heartthrob. But at home, Mom tore him down to absolute zero. After taking the scolding, Carter just nodded. He dragged my suitcase and shot a look at me. “Let’s go.” 4 When the car finally parked outside a run-down, aging apartment complex, Carter couldn’t hold back anymore. “What happened to the luxury condo Mom gave you?” Even at a moment like this, my stupid brain was thinking: Is this his way of caring about me? My head was spinning. “My boyfriend lives here, so I don’t really have a choice.” Having said my piece, I tried to bolt out of the car like a fugitive. But Carter was a step faster, instantly locking the doors from the driver’s seat. “Emma, you better explain this to me right now.” His icy tone frightened Chloe, who softly tried to intervene. “Babe, what are you doing? Don’t be so fierce with Emma.” Seeing them acting so affectionate in the front seat made me feel sick to my stomach. Would Carter treat Chloe the way he used to treat me? No, they were a couple. He would treat her a hundred times better than he ever treated me. “Explain what? You can date whoever you want, but I can’t?!” “You didn’t tell me, and you didn’t tell Mom and Dad.” “Did you announce it to Mom and Dad the second you started dating? I don’t need to report every single detail of my life to you.” Something about that sentence must have triggered him. Carter’s face darkened completely. “Say that again.” I was dizzy, my face flushed with fever. I couldn’t stop coughing, and as I did, tears streamed down my cheeks. I didn’t understand what Carter wanted from me. He was the one who cast me aside, and now he was the one getting angry. “I know… I know you look down on him. You think he’s poor and beneath us.” I wiped my tears. “But I don’t have some grand ambition… I just… I just want someone who treats me well, someone who loves me. That’s all I need.”

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Four years after my death, Nana dug out my old cell phone and called Olivia. Olivia: “It’s been exactly four years, and you finally thought to call me?” “What, did your sugar mamas run out of cash? If you’re broke, just go find a few more women to sell yourself to. Don’t play the victim with me.” “Let me tell you something: I don’t ever want to see you again, even if you’re dead!” On the other end of the line, Nana froze, her hunched back looking especially frail and lonely. She clutched the phone and asked cautiously, “Livvy, did you and my Ethan get into a fight? I can’t find him.” After saying that, Nana stared blankly across the empty room. As if suddenly remembering something, she murmured, “Oh, right. Ethan is dead. He’s gone. How could I forget again…” 1 Maybe it was because I couldn’t bear to leave Nana behind, but I stayed by her side as a spirit after I died. Unfortunately, Nana had Alzheimer’s, and she often forgot that I was dead. This time, she had another episode. She wandered off to the park by herself and forgot the way home. The stubborn little old lady sat on a bench, muttering to herself, “It’s okay if I can’t find the way. When Ethan realizes I’m not home, he’ll definitely come out looking for me.” My soul was hovering right beside her. Even though she wasn’t far from home, she couldn’t hear me, so I had no way to point her in the right direction. As the sun began to set, my ghostly form started pacing around frantically. An eighty-year-old woman spending the night alone in the park—she wouldn’t be able to handle the cold. Fortunately, Nana seemed to realize this too. Looking at the thinning crowd, she finally stood up. She walked up to someone, grabbed their arm, and asked, “Have you seen my grandson, Ethan?” I knew that as long as she asked someone, they would chat with her, realize she was lost, and probably take her to the local police precinct. Once she was at the precinct, she would get home safely. Unfortunately, Nana asked the wrong person. Because the person she grabbed was Olivia. Olivia looked down at Nana, a hint of impatience in her voice. “Where did Ethan go? Why are you out here alone?” “It’s so late and he just left you sitting in a park? He’s probably out messing around with…” 2 She didn’t finish the sentence, perhaps out of respect for Nana. But I knew exactly what she meant. She wanted to say I was probably out messing around with some random woman. See? Even though I had been dead for four years, this woman’s disgust for me hadn’t faded one bit. Nana didn’t pick up on the hostility. Seeing Olivia actually made her incredibly happy. “Livvy! It’s been so long since you came over for dinner. Don’t you love Nana’s homemade pot roast? Tomorrow is your birthday, come over and eat.” “You young people need to treat each other well when you’re dating. My Ethan is a good boy, he just likes to keep his feelings bottled up.” “When he left the house today, he said he was going to buy you a birthday present. He wanted to give you a surprise tomorrow.” So Nana’s memory was stuck on that exact day. Back then, we were still deeply in love, attached at the hip like any other passionately dating couple. And her childhood sweetheart hadn’t returned yet. What a shame. Hearing this, a mocking smirk tugged at the corner of Olivia’s mouth. “Nana, this isn’t funny.” “Ethan and I already broke up.” “And if he went out to buy a birthday present, it was probably for another woman.” Nana stared at her, stunned. “You broke up? But Ethan never told me.” “Livvy, don’t be mad. When Ethan gets back, I’ll teach him a lesson!” The little old lady looked adorable when she was angry. I wanted to hug her, to tell her not to be upset, but my arms just phased right through her body. Four years, and I still hadn’t gotten used to being nothing but a ghost. 3 Olivia’s smile grew wider, colder. She obviously didn’t believe a word Nana said. “I told you, we are completely over.” “If this is just some trick Ethan taught you to play, I’ll let it slide this one time.” “But please, never bring up his name in front of me again.” Just then, two neighborhood ladies walked over, looking surprised to see Nana. “Ma’am, it’s so late, why aren’t you home yet? Did you forget where you live again?” Then, one of them whispered to the other, clicking her tongue. “It’s a tragedy, really. She and her grandson were all each other had, but then the boy died four years ago. Now it’s just this poor old lady all by herself.” Yeah, I died four years ago. I remember that birthday four years ago. I went to the mall, full of excitement to buy her a present, only to see her walking arm-in-arm with another man. After stumbling out of the mall in a daze, I got a DM on Instagram from a stranger. I opened it. It was a selfie of a guy in a white button-down shirt, lying on messy white hotel sheets. Right next to him on the nightstand was a distinct, elegant custom lapel pin. Along with the photo was a message: They say a new fling can never beat a childhood sweetheart. Think you stand a chance against me? I recognized that lapel pin. It was the birthday present I had given her. I remembered it so vividly because, even though it wasn’t wildly expensive, I had designed and crafted every piece of it myself. Olivia never minded that it wasn’t a luxury brand. She even wore it to major corporate board meetings. She used to say it was the symbol of our love. But now, that symbol was casually sitting by another man’s hotel bed. That was the moment I realized love could be so incredibly cheap. 4 Hearing the neighborhood lady’s words, Olivia’s entire body went rigid. A chaotic mix of emotions flashed across her face. Finally, she asked in disbelief, “What did you just say? Ethan is dead?” “You’re lying to me, right? Ethan put you up to this.” “That man is a pathological liar.” The two ladies looked shocked. While holding onto Nana, they muttered to each other: “Who is this girl? Is she crazy?” “Seriously, who lies about someone being dead? That’s just cursing them.” Hearing them, Nana seemed to remember again. She opened her mouth, her lips trembling, and finally whispered, “Yes… my Ethan… he’s gone…” Olivia just stood there, completely frozen, looking almost ridiculous. And my drifting soul followed the two ladies as they helped Nana walk all the way home. When Nana finally stepped through the front door, I actually felt relieved that Olivia hadn’t followed us. Perhaps remembering my death made Nana sad. The lonely little old lady sat on the sofa, her thin, frail hands tracing the glass of my photograph as she cried silently. “Tell me, you were so young, how could you leave your Nana behind?” I floated over, trying to wipe her tears, but grabbed nothing but air. I could only cry with her. “Nana, I didn’t leave. I’m right here.” But she couldn’t hear me. Right then, the doorbell rang, followed by Olivia’s voice. “Nana, open the door. It’s me, Olivia.” I panicked. No. Don’t open the door for her. If she comes in and starts going through my old things… 5 I didn’t dare to imagine what would happen. Nana was a bit slow to react. Hearing the doorbell and the shouting, she slowly turned her head. She seemed to be trying to process it. Outside, Olivia’s voice rang out again: “Nana, just let me in.” “Ethan, I took a second to calm down and think about it. There’s no way you’re actually dead. You just wanted to trick me into coming over.” “Well, I’m here now! Stop pretending and open the door!” She was pounding on the door and aggressively ringing the bell. I was furious. All this shouting was going to terrify Nana. She never used to act like this. Back then, whether it was to me or Nana, she spoke softly, always terrified of sounding too harsh. But now, she wasn’t just ringing the bell; she was practically trying to break the door down. Filled with resentment, I rushed to the door to warn her off. But my ghostly form just phased right through the wood. No matter how angry I was, I was just weightless air. Because I couldn’t teach her a lesson, I felt completely helpless. Tears of pure frustration welled up in my eyes. But I was just a ghost; even crying lacked the cathartic release it had when I was alive. I screamed at her, “Yeah! I’m lying to you! So leave! Get out of here and don’t ever come back!” While I was throwing my tantrum outside, a loud crash echoed from inside the apartment. Terrified something happened to Nana, I phased back through the door. Thankfully, Nana was still sitting safely in her chair. It was just a picture frame that had fallen to the floor. Nana, looking as if she had just woken from a dream, stared at the frame on the floor and slowly bent down to pick it up. Holding it in her hands, she gently wiped my photo over and over again. “It got dirty. Ethan loved this picture the most. Thank goodness the glass didn’t break.” She was right. It used to be my favorite photo. Because Olivia had taken it. But I wanted to tell Nana that it wasn’t my favorite anymore. My favorite photo was the one sitting right next to her hand—a picture of me and her together.

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At the wrap party, everyone was cheering and egging on Valerie Stone and Chase Montgomery to “recreate the kiss” from the show. The two looked at each other and shared a knowing smile. A second later, their lips were locked together. Amidst the excited screams, someone suddenly shouted, “Let’s get the second male lead and the female lead to share one too!” Valerie’s eyes instantly darkened. I was the second male lead. And I was Valerie’s actual boyfriend. 1 The room fell completely silent under Valerie’s icy glare. It was a little awkward. Chase quickly grabbed Valerie’s hand. “Alright, guys, knock it off. I’ll kiss Val again for you, but don’t force her to do something she doesn’t like.” Something she doesn’t like? I wonder who it was that got drunk the night before and clung to me, kissing me for ten minutes straight. I set down my glass, stood up, and walked toward Valerie. “It’s just a kiss, isn’t it?” I smiled. “It’s no big deal. Play along, our Best Actress.” Valerie furrowed her brows. “Wyatt.” It was a warning tone. “Wyatt,” Chase also reached out to shield Valerie. “Everyone’s just joking around. Don’t take it seriously.” I lowered my gaze. Valerie’s hand was resting perfectly on his waist. The way they were holding each other, you’d think they were tragically being torn apart. “Screw off,” I said flatly. Chase froze, turning to look at Valerie. Valerie’s face grew even darker. “Wyatt, stop causing a scene,” she said sternly. Chase tugged at her arm gently. “Wyatt must be drunk. It’s the wrap party today, you can’t be mad at him.” She let out a soft, affectionate huff and flipped her hand over, gently holding his. How incredibly intimate. I looked up at this woman leaning into Chase’s embrace. Just like in the show, I was the malicious supporting character, and she was fiercely in love with the leading man. Even though I was her actual boyfriend, she had never once acknowledged me in front of others. “Screw off,” I repeated, swallowing my disgust. “This time, both of you. Screw off together.” 2 The main characters, of course, did not screw off. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, I slammed the door and left. While I was sitting alone on the hotel rooftop having a drink, a text from Valerie came through. “Come back and apologize to Chase.” “Just say you had too much to drink.” Heh. Without a second thought, I blocked her number. A light drizzle began to fall from the sky, and I looked up. I couldn’t help but think about the four years I had spent with Valerie. For four years, I stayed by her side, watching her grow from a trending internet star to an award-winning A-lister. Back then, she starred in a low-budget web series that accidentally blew up. Her agency arranged for her to do a PR showmance with the male lead, Chase, and she had no way to refuse. She was miserable at first. She used to hold me and say, “I really don’t want to fake this relationship with him. I have to pretend he’s you just to force a smile.” She said, “Wyatt, wait for me. Wait until I’m a big star who can stand on my own, wait until I’m no longer controlled by them. I promise I’ll tell the whole world that I love you.” Back then, we would dream about our future together. A dog, two kids, three meals a day, four seasons a year, our hearts beating as one. When did it start to change? She replied to my texts less and less, yet the way she looked at Chase grew softer and softer. They kept up their PR romance for four years. They never officially confirmed it, but the tension was always there. In public, he would tie her shoelaces on set and take her for scenic bike rides into the hills between takes. In private, she would lend him her lawyers for his defamation suits and bring him along to private dinners with renowned directors. The fans called them the “Details Couple,” always finding sweet little romantic clues in their interactions. Maybe some things, after being acted out for so long, eventually become real. I was just trapped in the game, too foolish to realize it. 3 When my manager, Toby, called, I was already a little tipsy. “Wyatt, where are you?” I mumbled a vague response. “Something happened! You’re trending everywhere!” Trending? That sobered me up halfway. I opened my phone. Someone had leaked a video of the wrap party online. The top four trending hashtags were all about Valerie and Chase. #ValerieAndChaseChemistry #ValerieChaseWrapPartyKiss #WhenWillValerieAndChaseGoPublic #HowMuchWouldYouGiveForValerieChaseWedding And starting from the fifth spot, it was all me. #WyattTheClown #WyattBullyingChase #WyattNepoBaby The comments under the tags were tearing me apart. “Who does this guy think he is? Does he have no shame? With that filthy mouth of his, he actually thought he could kiss our Valerie.” “So disgusting. Did they spray air freshener in the room after he left?” “He acts like such a diva, slamming the door and storming out. Who gave him the audacity? Someone needs to investigate who his sugar daddy is. Trash.” “Ugh, I’m so mad! Just because he bought his way in doesn’t mean he gets to bully our Chase!” “I usually separate the character from the actor, but with Wyatt, he was clearly just playing himself.” “Zero acting skills and brought his own funding. I heard he practically bought the second male lead role. No wonder he plays the villain so well!” Bought the role. Heh. I definitely didn’t buy the role. I had originally earned the male lead for this show through my own hard work. But right before filming started, Valerie’s agency pressured the producers to swap me out for Chase. They said Chase and Valerie had more on-screen chemistry, and that’s what would make the show a hit. Valerie even came to me and said that if we played a couple on screen, she’d have a hard time controlling herself and might expose our real relationship. I refused and got into a massive fight with her. “My contract with the agency is expiring soon. Wyatt, can’t you just be understanding for once?” She said I wasn’t thinking about her. But she had no idea how hard I had worked to win that role. The director didn’t agree with the change at first either. She chatted with me, saying she would stick by her casting choice. But the next day, the director was fired. And I was reassigned to the second male lead. The malicious villain. That night, watching Valerie and Chase do joint promotional interviews for the new show, I chewed on a piece of plain bread bite by bite. They say bread tastes sweeter the longer you chew it, but all I tasted was bitterness. Sometimes, people just refuse to give up hope until they see and hear it with their own eyes and ears. Back then, I still harbored a sliver of delusion. I thought that once her contract ended and she was free of her restrictions, we could finally be together openly. I wanted to be close to her. I wanted to spend more time with her, so I still took the role. But it felt like swallowing knives every day, witnessing her and Chase’s “sweet affection” off-camera, every single second. I scrolled further down and saw another trending tag. #ValerieProtectsHerMan The comments were flooded with demands for them to get married. And of course, every few lines, there was a curse or insult hurled at me. They said someone who bullies people like I do should go die. An hour had passed. Valerie hadn’t posted a single clarification. Everyone involved stayed completely silent, letting the trending tags climb to the very top. I took out my phone and unblocked Valerie. I had been impulsive earlier. Things still needed to be made clear. Word by word, I typed out the sentence I never thought I would ever write. “Valerie, let’s break up.” 4 It took Valerie three hours to find me. “Are you drunk? Did you seriously block me?!” she said, walking over and grabbing my arm. “Don’t touch me,” I said, shaking her off. “Wyatt, there’s a limit to throwing a tantrum,” she lowered her voice. “Causing a scene at the wrap party was your fault to begin with.” “Was I wrong to ask you to apologize? You could have solved this with a simple apology, but you had to blow it up so the whole internet knows.” I let out a dry laugh. “And did you suffer any losses?” She went silent. Of course she didn’t. This was incredible free publicity. The show was viral before it even aired. That was why all the trending hate toward me was still up. Nobody was going to deal with it. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. I stood up unsteadily and pushed her away. “Valerie, I really mean it. We’re done. Stay as far away from me as possible from now on.” “You’re drunk.” She frowned. “I mean every word.” Valerie stared at me silently for a moment, sighed, and softened her tone. “Honey, let’s stop fighting, okay? Let’s go home.” “You leave. Toby is coming to pick me up soon!” But instead of leaving, she forcefully squeezed into my arms. “Stop making a fuss. Come home with me. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you this time, but you are never allowed to mention breaking up again. Do you hear me?” With that, she looked up and tried to kiss me. To be honest, her tricks used to work on me. A few times when we fought over Chase, this was exactly how she coaxed me back. But this time, just thinking about how she had been plastered against Chase a few hours ago made my stomach turn. “Valerie! Stone!” I pushed her away with all my strength and turned my head. “Do you not understand English? I am breaking up with you!” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rooftop door. Toby was standing there, his eyes wide. He must have just arrived. I pushed Valerie away, grabbed Toby’s arm, and walked off. “Wyatt!” Valerie’s voice rang out from behind, carrying the subtle, bruised anger of someone who had just lost face. “Say what you just said one more time.” I took a deep breath, turned around, looked her in the eye, and enunciated every word. “I. Want. To. Break. Up. With. You.” “Fine. Fine. Perfect,” she laughed coldly. “A breakup, right?” “I accept. Don’t come crawling back.”

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1 When I woke up from the car crash, six years had vanished. I was married to my childhood sweetheart, and we even had a son. Our little boy was the spitting image of his father—quiet, guarded, and painfully adorable. I couldn’t help myself. I scooped him up and covered his chubby cheeks in kisses. Just then, my phone rang. It was an unrecognized number. I pressed answer, and a man’s drunken voice slurred through the speaker: “She blocked me. It hurts so bad, Hazel. Can you come keep me company for a while?” My five-year-old son immediately gripped my hand, his knuckles turning white. “Mom… are you going out to drink with Uncle Beckett again?” “Dad will be so sad.” He lowered his head, his voice cracking. “And so will I.” … When I first opened my eyes, a beautifully dressed little boy was standing at my bedside, staring at me with wide, anxious eyes. “Mom, you were having a nightmare. Are you okay?” Why was he calling me Mom? I blinked, taking in his features. He was incredibly handsome, a perfect, miniature version of Jasper. Then, my eyes drifted to the wall. Hanging above the headboard was a massive, elegant wedding portrait of Jasper and me. I had only been in a car accident. How did I wake up married to him with a child? But looking at the sweet little boy, logic went out the window. My hands moved faster than my brain, pulling him into my chest. I hugged him tight, kissing him repeatedly until his face was damp. That was when the phone on the nightstand buzzed. The caller ID read: Beckett. I answered, and the heavy scent of alcohol seemed to bleed through the line as a man groaned. “She blocked me. It hurts so bad, Hazel. Can you come keep me company for a while?” I was completely bewildered. “Who is this?” The voice on the other end grew cold and exhausted. “Hazel, stop playing games. You know I’m in no mood for your drama right now.” “I’m at our usual bar. Old place. I’m waiting.” With a sharp click, the line went dead. I checked the time. It was two in the morning. Who was this lunatic, demanding my presence in the middle of the night? Did he think I was some cheap, desperate girl? My five-year-old son squeezed my fingers, his chest heaving. “Mom, are you going out to drink with Uncle Beckett again? Dad will be so sad.” He looked down. “And so will I.” I stared at him, a deep sense of unease settling in my chest. Why did this little boy look so incredibly insecure? Seeing my silence, his grip slowly loosened. His shoulders slumped, a look of profound disappointment crossing his small face. “If you have to go, Mom… I’ll get your coat.” “It’s cold outside. You shouldn’t catch a chill. Remember your scarf, too.” He was so heartbreakingly sweet that my heart melted. I quickly grabbed his tiny hands, my voice softening. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. How could I leave you all by yourself in the middle of the night?” “Come here. Let’s cuddle and go back to sleep.” The boy froze, staring at me with a hesitant, shy, almost overwhelmed expression. “Is that… is that really okay, Mom?” “Of course it’s okay! A mother sleeping with her baby is the most natural thing in the world.” I pulled him under the warm duvet, wrapping my arms around him. “By the way, what’s your name, sweetie?” He reached up, placing a cool hand against my forehead. “Mom, do you have a fever? I’m Tristan. You were the one who chose my name.” “Tristan? Like the knight?” He shook his head, his voice dropping. “No. You said it meant sorrow. Because you hated us.” I went completely numb. Tristan? Sorrow? Why on earth would I give such a beautiful, innocent child a name like that? The next morning, I woke up late to find Tristan already dressed. He was sitting quietly on a small chair, reading a book without making a single sound. My god, I had given birth to an angel. I adored him instantly. I wanted to call his name, but “Tristan” felt too heavy, too thick with a past I couldn’t remember. So, I called out softly, “Sweetheart.” “Where is your father?” Hearing the endearment, Tristan’s ears flushed a bright red. “Dad… he was working late at the office last night.” “Oh. I see.” I thought about the six-year blank in my memory since the car crash. I offered him a warm smile. “Come here, sweetheart. Let me test you. How is the relationship between your dad and me?” Tristan hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor again. “Not very good, Mom. You seemed to really hate us.” “Dad said you lost your memory after the accident. Since you didn’t have any other family left, he brought you home to care for you, and you two got married shortly after.” “But after I was born, you were unhappy every single day. Dad said it was postpartum depression, that you didn’t hate me, you were just sick.” “But then you met Uncle Beckett, and you started smiling again. You told Dad that Beckett was your medicine.” A bitter, old-beyond-his-years look crossed his face. “And then, you didn’t want us anymore.” I searched my brain, but the name Beckett conjured absolutely nothing. “Who is this Beckett? Why would I care about him so much?” Tristan shook his head. “I don’t know.” “But on your anniversary with Dad, Uncle Beckett called Dad from your phone on purpose.” “Dad thought it was you calling, and he was so happy when he answered.” “But you didn’t know the call was connected. You were busy talking to Uncle Beckett. He told you he didn’t love you, that he was in love with his brother’s fiancée, even though they could never be together.” “You asked him why, if it was so painful, he couldn’t just consider you instead.” “Uncle Beckett said that if you got a divorce, he would consider it.” “And then, Mom… you said, ‘Okay, I’ll divorce him.’” “Dad… Dad was so heartbroken that day.” His voice trembled. “And so was I.” I sat there, utterly stunned. In my son’s eyes, I was nothing but a desperate, pathetic simp. I was throwing away my family for a man who was pining after his own brother’s fiancée. It was the plot of a cheap, trashy soap opera. I reached out, gently covering Tristan’s ears. “A child shouldn’t have to carry these heavy things.” Tristan blinked, looking at me with confusion. I let out a long, heavy sigh. Jasper was my childhood sweetheart. When I was seven, my father worked as a driver for the Lu family. Because my mother was gone and my father was always busy with work, he would often leave me at Jasper’s estate. My classmates had warned me, telling me that rich kids were cruel to their bones. They said Jasper would treat me like a toy, bullying and tormenting me every day. But the moment I met him, those fears vanished. Jasper had no sense of superiority. He looked at me and said I looked like a delicate porcelain doll. I was fragile and sickly back then. But despite being the pampered heir of the wealthy Lu family, Jasper would kneel on the frozen ground to put on my socks in the winter. He carried my backpack to school every day. When I was sick in bed, he would sit by my side, holding my hand and refusing to leave. Later, when my father died in a tragic accident, none of my relatives wanted to take in a penniless orphan. It was Jasper who took my hand and led me into his home. The Lu family was one of the most powerful dynasties in the city, but he never let me feel like an outsider. To me, he wasn’t just a lover. He was my family. Before the car crash, we had been planning our wedding. We had already picked out our future home. I had teasingly told him the bathroom needed a double tub, a massive mirror, and floor-to-ceiling windows so we could play around. Jasper had smiled and promised me everything. And yet, during the six years I had lost to amnesia, I had treated him like garbage. The guilt tore at my chest. “Sweetheart, let me ask you one more thing. When is our wedding anniversary?” “November twenty-first, Mom.” That was just two days ago. I couldn’t let my husband suffer like this any longer. When Jasper came home, I was going to make things right. That evening, Jasper returned from the office. The house was dark, quiet, and cold. As usual, there was no one waiting for him. He let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh and reached for the light switch. The moment the light flared, I stepped into his path, a brilliant smile on my face. “Surprise!” The living room had been beautifully decorated, and a warm, steaming dinner sat on the dining table. Jasper froze, his briefcase slipping slightly in his grip. “Hazel? What is this?” “I know we missed our anniversary, so I wanted to make it up to you tonight.” Tristan was already fast asleep, leaving just the two of us in the quiet room. “Just an anniversary dinner?” “Of course. What else? I made everything myself. Come, try some.” I pulled him toward the table, making him sit. I stared at him, taking in his features. He was breathtakingly handsome, like a painting of a modern prince. I wanted nothing more than to drag him to bed and ruin that perfect, neat composure. I tilted my head, offering a soft smile. “Does it taste good, honey?” Jasper’s fork paused mid-air. He looked at me as if I were a ghost. “It’s been a long time since you called me that.” He took a slow bite. “The food is excellent.” I winked. “If you like it, I’ll cook for you every single day.” But there was no joy in his eyes. “Is that so? That must be incredibly exhausting for you.” “How much money do you need this time, Hazel?” “After all, you worked so hard to learn how to cook healthy meals for Beckett’s sensitive stomach. You wouldn’t waste those skills on me without a price.” I went entirely rigid. Just then, my phone began to blare. It was Beckett. I immediately swiped decline. But a second later, the screen lit up again. Jasper placed his fork down, his eyes dark and empty. “Why don’t you answer? Are you afraid I’ll hear something?” “You don’t have to hide it from me. Just do what you want.” His voice was a hollow whisper. “I already know everything anyway.” Left with no choice, I swiped accept and pressed the speakerphone button, laying the phone flat on the table. Beckett’s irritated voice snarled through the speaker. “Hazel, you actually dare to hang up on me now?” “You had quite a spine last night, actually refusing to show up. Is this a new game? Playing hard to get?” “I have to admit, you’re slightly more interesting than before.” He let out a patronizing chuckle. “I have some good news for you.” “My brother is marrying his girlfriend next week. I’m going to plan the wedding myself. Maybe once I hear her say ‘I do’ to him with my own ears, I can finally let her go.” “And then, I’ll give us a try.” “As for you, make sure you clean up your mess and cut off whatever ties you need to on your end.” Jasper listened to the entire speech, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips. “How touching. You gave him your heart, and now you’re going to give him your official status too.” “Should I start packing my bags to make room for him?” Before he could say another word, I reached out and pressed my fingers against his lips. “Husband, shut up for a second and let me handle this.” I cleared my throat, speaking into the phone with cold precision. “Beckett, right? I am a married woman with a family. Please have some self-respect.” “Stop trying to insert yourself into my marriage. My husband and I are deeply in love, and we don’t need a third wheel.” “We’ve just finished our romantic candlelight dinner and are about to go to bed. I need to warm his sheets now. Goodbye.” With a swift tap, I disconnected the call. Then, right in front of Jasper’s stunned eyes, I blocked the number and deleted the contact permanently. Surely he would believe me now. But Jasper only stared at me, his shoulders slumped. “You don’t have to force yourself to play these humiliating games for his sake.” “How am I forcing myself?” He looked away. “We’ve been sleeping in separate rooms for a very long time.” I blinked, thoroughly confused. “Why on earth would we do that?” My eyes slowly drifted down to his lap, my voice dropping to a cautious whisper. “Is it because… you can’t perform?” That didn’t make sense. Before the accident, Jasper had been insatiable, going through an entire box of ultra-thin condoms every night until I was begging for mercy. Jasper’s face flushed a deep crimson, a mix of embarrassment and anger flashing in his eyes. “You were the one who demanded it!” “Because you said the mere thought of me touching you made you sick.” I wanted to punch my past self. How could I have kept such a masterpiece of a man out of my bed? Was I out of my mind? “Well, tonight, we’re touching.” “Husband, I’ve missed you so much. Let me feel you.” I slid my hand beneath his shirt, pressing my palm against the firm, defined muscles of his chest, gently teasing his skin. It had been years since I had touched him like this. His body went rigid, a low, ragged groan escaping his throat as he grit his teeth. “Enough, Hazel.” “Beckett’s company just secured its funding. You don’t have to disgust yourself by seducing me anymore.” He pushed my hand away, stood up, and walked out of the room. Looking at the back of the man who used to look at me with nothing but warmth and adoration, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I tangled my fingers in my hair, staring at the empty doorway. What had I done? Could a man as proud and dignified as Jasper ever forgive me?

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1 For our first anniversary, my boyfriend gave me a twenty-dollar scratch-off card. When I scratched off a five-million-dollar jackpot, I screamed, ready to throw my arms around his neck. But my best friend, Vivian, grabbed my wrist. “Valerie, look closely! This card is fake. He’s running a loyalty test on you! To put it bluntly, the guy doesn’t trust you for a second!” She urged me to dump him. Who wants to be with a cheap, broke guy who uses fake junk to test real feelings? Honestly, for a split second, it made perfect sense. But just as I was about to march downstairs and slap that stupid ticket right into Tristan’s face, a tiny, furious voice echoed in my head. “Are you kidding me? Is my idiot mother really about to break up with my dad again?” “Does she have any idea that my dad is the sole heir of the Mercer dynasty? Literally the crown prince of New York’s elite?” “All she has to do is pass this stupid test and she gets a fifty-million-dollar reward. Instead, she’s going to listen to that toxic snake and end up dying in misery.” What? Tristan is the heir to a hundred-billion-dollar empire? Why didn’t you say so earlier! When I first realized the ticket was fake, Vivian’s words had sunk into my mind like a poisoned needle. “A man with actual capability would never run a messed-up test like this,” she whispered, her face tight with mock concern. “Deep down, he thinks you’re just some gold-digger! Why do you think he’s still waiting down there under the streetlamp? He’s waiting to see how you react. If you tell him you won, he’ll just shrug it off as a joke, feeding on your disappointment. If you don’t tell him, he’ll look down on you from his moral high ground, watching you embarrass yourself trying to cash a fake ticket!” Down on the street, Tristan stood quietly beneath the flickering yellow glow of the lamppost. His head was bowed, his face shadowed, making his expression impossible to read. For the past year, he had never bought me anything expensive, and I had never minded. I loved him for who he was. But if this was all a twisted game… Seeing me hesitate, Vivian pressed harder. “A relationship without trust is just a house of cards, Val. A guy with a mind this dark isn’t going to stop at one test. Do you want to spend the rest of your life walking on eggshells? Can you really tolerate being played like a fool? You need to go down there, expose him, and slap some sense into him!” Taking a deep breath, I gripped the scratch-off and walked toward Tristan. “Tristan, you…” Before I could finish, that squeaky, immature voice rang out again in my mind. “Are you kidding me? Is my idiot mother really about to break up with my dad again?” I whipped my head around, but the street was empty. The voice was coming from inside my own stomach. “Does she seriously not know my dad is the Mercer family heir, worth a hundred billion dollars?” “In her past life, she listened to that toxic witch Vivian. She threw the card in my dad’s face, screamed that he was a cheap hypocrite, and broke up with him on the spot after a massive fight. Then Vivian swooped in. She played the gentle, caring angel, married into the empire, and became the billionaire’s wife. And what happened to my idiot mom? Vivian ruined her career, dragged her name through the mud, and had her baby taken away. My mom ended up committing suicide in a dingy, rented room.” “I got reborn just to end up with a mother who doesn’t learn her lesson!” I froze, ice water running through my veins. The idiot mother was me? I was pregnant? And Tristan was a billionaire prince? The little guy in my belly let out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Mom, get your act together! It wasn’t easy getting reincarnated. Don’t ruin it this time!” “Right now, right this second, go hug my dad. Pretend you’re ecstatic and tell him you won the jackpot!” “As long as you pass this test, my dad has a fifty-million-dollar bonus and a massive luxury penthouse waiting for you. If you don’t pull it together, that toxic bitch gets it all…” I looked up at Tristan. Suddenly, the streetlamp wasn’t the only thing shining. He practically glowed with the light of a golden god. He wasn’t just a hidden heir: he was my personal ticket to paradise. 2 Tristan watched my face fluctuate between tears and a hysterical grin, his brows knitting together. “Val? What did you want to say?” I took a deep breath, threw my arms around him, and buried my face in his chest. “Tristan, you won’t believe how lucky we are! That scratch-off you gave me? We won! It’s a five-million-dollar jackpot!” His body stiffened instantly. “You… actually told me?” “Of course I did! You’re the love of my life, and you bought the ticket. With this money, we can finally build our future together.” Up on the steps, Vivian’s face practically shattered. She marched down, her voice sharp. “Valerie, stop being so brainless! I told you, that card is fake! Tristan is just playing you!” So what if my golden goose wanted to run a little security check before raining cash on me? I was more than happy to play along. Inside my belly, the little guy gasped. “Wait, my mom actually used her brain? But now that the toxic snake exposed it, how is she going to save this?” Just sit back and watch your mother’s award-winning performance, I thought back. “Wait… you can hear me?” the baby wondered. I ignored him, focusing instead on the ticket. My eyes welled up with tears right on cue. “It… it’s a fake?” “Val, let me explain,” Tristan pleaded, his composure slipping. “I thought we finally made it,” I choked out, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes, letting a single tear roll down my cheek. “I thought you wouldn’t have to work three jobs anymore just to save up for our future.” I let out a shaky breath, wrapping my arms tighter around his waist. “But it’s okay. I know you were just trying to make me happy. It was nice to dream for a second. It just means you’ll have to keep working hard, and I’ll be right there beside you.” I buried my face back into his chest, letting out soft, muffled sobs. Tristan cupped my face, gently wiping away my tears. “You sweet, silly girl. The ticket is fake.” “But you passed the test. This is your real reward.” He slid something into my palm. I looked down. An Amex Black Card, and a key fob to a penthouse overlooking Central Park. I swallowed hard. “What… what does this mean? Tristan, where did you get this?” “My family is actually the Mercers of New York,” he admitted softly. “I had to hide my identity while dating. I want to bring you home, but my family required a test first. You have no idea how terrified I was that you’d leave me for five million dollars. Thank you, Val. I promise to love you with everything I have.” Vivian turned deathly pale. “Valerie, did you not hear him? He’s been lying to you from day one! He’s just playing with you. Men like him never marry girls like us! Throw that trash back at him! Don’t sell your soul for money!” The little guy in my belly snorted. “My dad is the sole heir of the Mercer line. The old patriarch is dying for a great-grandchild. If my mom spills the pregnancy news right now, the family gates will swing wide open for her.” Seeing Vivian reach out to snatch the card and keys, I quickly shoved them into my pocket, covering my stomach. “But I’m already pregnant with his child. I don’t want my baby growing up without a father.” Vivian froze. Tristan looked like he’d been struck by lightning. “Val… what did you say? You’re pregnant?” When I nodded, he immediately pulled out his phone, made a rapid-fire call, and scooped me up in his arms, walking toward a sleek black Maybach that had quietly pulled up to the curb. “I’ll have the wedding planned immediately. First, we go to the hospital.” The baby purred happily. “Not bad, Dad. But don’t celebrate too early. That toxic snake Vivian isn’t going to give up easily. She already knew your true identity and has been plotting to tear you two apart so she can take my mom’s place.” Resting in Tristan’s arms, I gently caressed my stomach. But I have you now, don’t I, my sweet reborn baby? After the hospital confirmed the pregnancy, the Mercer patriarch immediately gifted us a sprawling estate in the Hamptons as a welcoming present. Everything was picture-perfect. Except for Vivian. And my baby was about to give me a very grim warning about what she had planned next. 3 After the scratch-off incident, I moved out of my cramped apartment and into the estate. Vivian pretended to be happy for me, but she bombarded my phone with toxic texts daily. “Val, do you really know Tristan? Families that rich have crazy rules. Can you actually survive in that world?” “They only care about pedigree. You think you can secure your place just with a baby? Watch out, they might just take the kid and kick you to the curb!” “Men born with silver spoons don’t stick to one woman. High-society guys are all players.” Every time she tried to plant seeds of doubt, my little guardian angel chimed in. “She’s just trying to make you paranoid, Mom. My dad is completely devoted to you, and the Mercer family has strict moral codes.” “In the last life, my dad only ended up with her to make you jealous. He loved you to death. In fact, after you died, he took his own life.” “Don’t play into some tragic romance trope. Tell Vivian that even if the Mercers only want the baby, you’ll still be set for life on child support alone!” Grinning, I picked up my phone, switched on the video call, and slowly panned around my massive, thousand-square-foot master bedroom. “Vivian, look at this place. Just for being pregnant, they gave me this estate and an unlimited allowance.” “Even if they kick me out after the birth, they’ll have to pay me millions in child support. I’m set for life either way.” “And if I have a boy, he’ll inherit the entire Mercer empire. Who cares if I marry into the family? As long as I have the money, I’m happy.” “You shouldn’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. I heard your deadbeat, gambling father is looking for you again?” Vivian’s face flushed with a mixture of rage and humiliation. She slammed the phone down, hanging up on me. Why didn’t I block her? Because my sweet baby told me that villains like Vivian are like roaches. If you don’t face them head-on, they just skulk in the dark. It was much more satisfying to keep her close and drive her insane with my success. A few weeks later, Tristan took me to a high-society charity gala. It was my official debut as his wife. Since Tristan didn’t want a rushed wedding and wanted to spare me the stress while pregnant, we had quietly registered our marriage and planned a grand ceremony for the following year. Before we left, my little guy gave me a stern warning. “Be careful tonight, Mom. In our last life, Vivian set you up at this very gala, causing a massive public scandal that ruined your reputation.” What did she do? I asked mentally. “In the past life, you snuck in as a waitress to see my dad after finding out you were pregnant. Vivian spilled red wine all over your dress and led you to a private changing room.” “She had hired a man to wait for you there. When my dad walked in, you were disheveled and caught in a compromising position. He was blinded by rage. With Vivian whispering poison in his ear, he didn’t even believe the baby was his.” “You were thrown out into a torrential downpour, got hit by a car, lost me, and ended up with a crippled leg. Vivian is definitely going to sneak in tonight to pull something similar.” I shuddered, a cold sweat breaking out on my neck. At the gala, sure enough, I spotted Vivian. She was dressed in a server’s uniform, holding a tray. When she saw me, she marched straight over. “Oh, Valerie, that dress is stunning. Your new man must be incredibly generous. How much did you have to do to get it?” “I wish I could find a sugar daddy like that. Some of us actually have to work for a living.” She spoke just loudly enough for the surrounding socialites to hear. Several wealthy women exchanged mocking glances, instantly branding me as a gold-digging interloper. I remained perfectly calm. “Oh, this dress? It was a gift from my mother-in-law, Beatrice Mercer. She actually designed it herself when she was pregnant with Tristan.” My response delivered a double blow: it confirmed my marriage to the heir and showed I had the mother’s full backing. The socialites’ snickers instantly vanished, replaced by polite, flattering smiles.

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1 I spent five years trying to become the leading lady in Nolan’s life. The floating comments in my head had warned me from the very beginning. Doesn’t she realize there isn’t a shred of love in his eyes? Don’t be stupid. He only tolerates her because his son needs a mother. Once his first love returns from abroad, all her years of devotion will mean absolutely nothing. But I refused to believe them. Every story had a past, didn’t it? Nolan was attentive, respectful, and always kept clear boundaries. His personal life was as clean as a blank sheet of paper. How could I throw away everything we built just because of a few cynical remarks from unseen onlookers? Later, when he got down on one knee and proposed, the comments finally began to shift in my favor. Yet, that was the exact moment I decided to let go. … I opened the custom wedding invitation Nolan had designed. The gold-embossed font was elegant, bold, and striking. My smile slowly froze on my face. “Who is Giselle?” Nolan went rigid for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting away. “Oh. The designer must have made a mistake.” “I’ll have them reprint a new batch immediately.” If I hadn’t seen that exact name on the list of newly hired instructors at my school, his smooth explanation might have actually convinced me. I picked up the remote and casually switched on the television. “…World-renowned ballerina Giselle has returned to the country to continue her studies. In an exclusive interview, she stated she is currently focusing on her career and has no plans for marriage…” The reporter’s crisp voice filled the quiet living room. The arm Nolan had wrapped tightly around my waist suddenly went limp and slipped away. The floating comments flared up again. Nolan, what are you doing?! Just hearing her name makes you pull away from Gemma? My heart breaks for her. Don’t forget Gemma basically raised your kid and coddled your demanding mother for five years. If you still want Giselle, you are completely heartless! Am I the only one who pities the designer? The male lead gave the wrong name but blamed it on the working class. Was it really a designer’s mistake? Or was it that, in his subconscious, his bride had always been Giselle? I took a deep, quiet breath, forcing a playful smile onto my face as I turned to look at him. “What a coincidence. She shares the same name.” He didn’t answer. His eyes were glued to the television screen. The woman on the screen was elegant, her movements light and ethereal. When the reporter asked her about her college days, a deep, unshakeable sorrow clouded her eyes. “Gemma, should we move the wedding up?” “Next year is going to be incredibly busy at the winery. We have several major international contracts to negotiate, and I might not have the energy to plan a proper wedding then.” There was an intense, pleading look in his eyes, mixed with a complex emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. The chat feed began placing bets. Half of them say he’s doing this just to spite the female lead. The other half say he’s terrified of regretting his choice, so he’s burning his own bridges. Not a single soul believed he actually wanted to marry me. But what if? What if there was a tiny chance? His excuse was perfectly logical, after all. If only he hadn’t deliberately avoided eye contact the moment Giselle’s name came up. I wanted to speak, but a sudden mist blurred my vision. Seeing my silence, a flicker of panic crossed his face. He quickly reached out, grasping my hand to reassure me. “Don’t worry. I promise the wedding will be grand. I won’t let you feel rushed or slighted just because we’re moving the date up.” “Toby already calls you Mom, and my mother gave you the family heirloom emerald bracelet. You are the destined daughter-in-law of this family. Having the wedding a bit earlier is a happy occasion for everyone, isn’t it?” “Are you still upset about the name on the invite? It really was just an accident. Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” The more he spoke, the more defensive he sounded. I almost felt embarrassed for him. One of the comments had put it beautifully: He was never a good liar. I gently pulled my hand from his grip, my expression as sweet and calm as ever. “Whatever you prefer.” The next afternoon, Nolan picked me up after work to try on wedding dresses. “A few new arrivals from Milan just came in. I had them set aside the best ones so you can have first pick.” The moment I slid into the passenger seat, he leaned over naturally to pull my seatbelt across me, clicking it into place. For five long years, he had been this meticulously attentive. The comments always claimed he was like a cold, emotionless robot. I had spent years arguing with them, defending his quiet care. But the moment of truth was finally here. As we neared the boutique, my phone rang. “I’m just one intersection away,” I said into the receiver. “Take your time, don’t rush.” Nolan reached over, taking my hand in his. “Did you invite a friend?” I nodded. “A new colleague from work. She just got back from abroad and has an incredible eye for fashion. I figured she could help me choose.” The floating comments were practically screaming with excitement. The legendary reunion is finally here! The female lead left twelve years ago to pursue her career after having his baby, and now they’re finally going to stand in the same room! I’ll always support Gemma, but for just one second, I really want to see this tragic couple reunite. Does the second female lead know something? Is she testing him on purpose? When Giselle arrived, Nolan was holding my handbag and my discarded coat, looking every bit the devoted, doting fiancé. I smiled warmly as I introduced them. “Nolan, this is Giselle. She just joined our faculty as a ballet instructor. She used to be the principal dancer for an international company.” “And Giselle, this is my fiancé, Nolan. He runs a private winery.” 2 I clenched my fists in my pockets, watching their faces intently, searching for even a flicker of recognition. But there was nothing. They exchanged polite, professional handshakes, greeting each other like complete strangers. My heart made a clean, sharp cracking sound and died. I forced myself behind the heavy velvet curtain to change, pulling the fabric back just a fraction of an inch to peer out. The moment they thought I was out of sight, their polite masks shattered instantly. “I thought you were allergic to caffeine.” “I went through desensitization therapy while I was abroad.” “Ha. Did you approach us on purpose today?” Nolan’s tone was biting, but it couldn’t hide the raw panic bleeding through his voice. “I had no idea you were her fiancé.” “Save it. I will never believe another word that comes out of your mouth.” “If you find this too awkward, tell her I had to leave when she comes out.” “Who do you think you are? Coming and going whenever you please?” Through the gap, I watched as Nolan reached out and grabbed Giselle’s wrist, squeezing it tightly. The veins in his neck were bulging with rage. All of his usual calm, composed dignity had vanished into thin air. “Gemma and I are getting married next month. Don’t you dare try any of your games again.” Giselle began to weep, turning and running out of the boutique. Nolan hesitated for two agonizing seconds before rushing out after her. Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with a text. An emergency came up at the winery. Take a cab home, okay? I looked down at the glowing screen, a bitter smile touching my lips. The harsh, warning words he had hurled at Giselle weren’t a rejection of his old flame. They were the desperate, defensive lashes of a man trying to score a point against the only woman who had ever truly broken him. The comments floated across my vision. Don’t cry, Gemma. You’re beautiful, and you’ll find someone who actually cherishes you. I’m starting to hate the male lead. Both Giselle and Gemma are completely innocent here. This is a total trainwreck. I’m finally old enough to understand both sides of this mess. In the beginning, the comments had been brutal to me. Before Nolan, I had never been in a relationship. A strict upbringing and a demanding academic schedule had molded me into the classic quiet, obedient girl. Even after entering the workforce as a piano teacher, my life remained sheltered and simple. Toby was the student who gave me the most headaches. He couldn’t sit still, had a terrible memory, and his parents were always late to pick him up. The third time I found him sitting alone in the dark corner of the classroom, his stomach rumbling loudly, I decided to take him home with me. I cooked him sweet-and-sour chicken, braised beef, and tomato eggs. He ate like he hadn’t seen food in days. The following week, a tall, elegant man accompanied Toby to class. “Hello, I’m Toby’s father. Thank you for looking after him the other day.” And just like that, Nolan entered my life. Over time, I learned he was thirty-five, a single father, ran a successful wine business, and had been raised by a single mother. He was physically fit, impeccably dressed, and carried himself with a quiet, mature dignity. Falling for him was as natural as breathing. At first, I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way. Until one day, the floating comments appeared before my eyes. Stop dreaming, second female lead. You are not the heroine of this story. Once his first love returns, all your years of devotion will mean absolutely nothing. If the male lead’s mother hadn’t hated the first love so much, they’d have three kids by now. Gemma, listen to me. Don’t rush in just because he seems to like you right now. You’re just a placeholder. Amidst the sea of warnings, I realized one thing: He liked me. If he liked me, what was there to hesitate about? A young girl’s feelings shouldn’t just remain a quiet secret. I began to pursue him, putting myself in his orbit as much as possible. “I found an incredible bakery nearby. We should take Toby there sometime.” “Toby’s piano needs tuning. If you aren’t sure which brand to buy, I can come with you.” “Your mother picked up Toby today and invited me over for dinner. I didn’t say yes immediately because I didn’t want you to feel awkward. Haha.” It was a simple, transparent strategy, and the comments hated me for it. One afternoon, when we took Toby to the amusement park, the insults nearly blinded me. Doesn’t she realize there’s no love in his eyes? What a manipulative woman, using the kid to force the male lead to spend time with her! The second female lead is just a glorified, free nanny. Learn your place. Nolan, reject her already! The female lead is living a lonely, miserable life across the ocean while you’re playing house with another woman! But the tides turned completely after I stood up for Toby at school. Toby had gotten into a fight, and Nolan was away on a business trip in Europe, so I stepped in. I had never been a mother, but I believed a mother should trust her child. I shielded Toby, spent hours track down the school’s security footage, and stood my ground against the aggressive parents of the other kids. She stood up for him in front of the principal without hesitating. That was so cool! I wish I had a mother like her. The other parents kept calling her a stepmother who didn’t care about the kid. She took so much abuse for him! The bullies had nothing left to say, so they teased Toby for not having a mom. Gemma literally brought him lunch to show them he had someone. I’m crying, this is so sweet. It was after that incident, as Nolan drove me home, that he spoke a sentence that changed everything. “Do you want to give us a try?” After a long, breathless pause, I heard my heart hammering against my ribs. “Yes.” 3 So, when I saw Giselle’s name on the new hire list, I decided to take a gamble. She was stunning, elegant, and carried herself with an effortless confidence. She was everything the comments had warned me about—the legendary, unshakeable first love. She actually existed. But then I thought, so what? I had been by Nolan’s side for five years. I went from his son’s piano teacher to his mother’s favorite shopping companion, and finally, a permanent fixture at the family dinner table. We were just one signature away from making it official. Most importantly, Nolan, who was notoriously cold toward women, had been the one to ask me to give us a try. On the day we officially made our relationship public, even the comments that had hated me from the start conceded that my devotion had finally paid off. They said my sincere heart had finally touched him, and that a man as responsible as Nolan would never look back once he made a commitment. I had let those words fill me with a quiet, secret joy for a very long time. When Nolan finally came home that evening, I was in the living room, gently correcting Toby’s finger placement on the piano keys. Nolan held a bouquet of white lilies, a quiet apology on his lips. I didn’t reach out to take them. “Are you still angry?” He leaned down, trying to coax a smile out of me. Toby, sensing the tension, quietly slipped back into his bedroom. My smile felt incredibly stiff and cold. “I’m allergic to lilies.” Nolan rubbed the back of his neck, dismissive. “I just remembered you liked the color. I forgot about the allergy.” “On our anniversary last year, the restaurant you booked was decorated with white lilies. I broke out in hives and had to spend the night in the ER.” “Last month, when I asked you to buy an air purifier, you brought home a lily-scented one. I spent weeks struggling to breathe before I finally had to move back to my own apartment.” Twelve years had passed, yet he remembered with absolute clarity that Giselle was allergic to caffeine. I had been by his side for five years, and he couldn’t even remember the flower that sent me to the hospital. The difference between love and tolerance was staggering. I didn’t acknowledge his empty apology. I quietly packed my things into my bag and walked toward the front door. “Don’t be mad, Gemma. I promise I won’t buy the wrong flowers next time.” “And about today… leaving you at the bridal shop was my fault. Next time, even if you try on a hundred dresses, I’ll sit right there and watch you. Okay?” He took me by the shoulders, his eyes wide and seemingly sincere. It was always the same script. I had spent years waiting for those “next times,” watching my hope slowly curdle into complete numbness. “There won’t be a next time, Nolan. Here are your keys.” I kicked off my slippers, slipped into my heels, and placed the house keys gently on the shoe cabinet. His polished composure finally cracked, a flash of irritation breaking through. “Gemma, is this really necessary? You’ve always been so reasonable. Are you really going to pick a massive fight over such a trivial thing?” Missing my high school reunion because he didn’t want to socialize was a trivial thing. Skipping our wedding photos because he hated the hassle of hair and makeup was a trivial thing. And now, putting his first love’s name on our invitations and abandoning his bride-to-be to chase her down was also a trivial thing. What, then, was a significant thing? As the comments had so brutally pointed out: When a man doesn’t love you, you could hang yourself from the ceiling and he’d just think you were playing on a swing. I looked up, locking eyes with him. “I heard you two in the dressing room.” “What?” “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Giselle? The bride’s name on our invitation belonged to your first love.” His entire body went rigid, and he slowly lowered his head, unable to speak. The cards were finally on the table. And he had absolutely nothing to play. Even though I was the official fiancé, in the grand narrative of his life, the first love was an invincible force. My logical mind told me to run from a man who couldn’t choose, but a small, desperate part of me wanted to wait just a little longer. What if? That was why I had set up their meeting today. I needed to see it with my own eyes so I could finally kill the hope inside me. Otherwise, I would have walked away looking graceful, only to torture myself with endless “what-ifs” later. I walked out of the apartment and pressed the button for the elevator. The numbers ticked up slowly. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… It would take a while to reach the twenty-third floor. But the door behind me remained firmly shut. No one ran out to stop me. For a single, fleeting second, I had thought that if he ran out and gave me even a half-decent explanation, I would have forced myself to believe it. The comment feed erupted into a frenzy. Gemma, don’t cry! We’ll find someone a million times better! Nolan is just prideful and slow to open up. He doesn’t want you to leave, but chasing you down would look desperate, and that’s just not who he is. You’ve held on for so long, why not give it one more shot? In a choice between two women, the one who stays is always the one who ends up suffering. I cleared out every single one of my belongings from Nolan’s apartment. During the day, I went to work and taught my classes as if nothing had happened. At night, I sat in my empty apartment, reading through our old text messages and crying until my chest ached. When I finally decided to pour myself a glass of wine to dull the pain, I realized my rack was filled entirely with bottles Nolan had gifted me over the years. The sight only made the tears flow faster. From now on, if I wanted a drink, I would have to buy it myself. Ironically, Nolan, who had always been so distant, began texting me every single day. It’s raining today. Remember to bring an umbrella. I ordered your favorite hot pot. It should arrive at your place soon. Gemma, those are all things of the past. You haven’t visited in days, and Toby really misses you. That last text struck a nerve with the comments. He’s just using the kid as leverage because he’s losing his free nanny! Block him! Delete his number! True moving on starts with physical boundaries. Cut him off! But I didn’t block him.

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1 While taking a quiet walk around our residential neighborhood, I ran straight into my ex-husband, Tristan. For a second, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. No one knew better than I did how much Tristan detested this town, and how much he despised this exact neighborhood. I stopped in my tracks, offering a polite but distant greeting. “Are you back to visit your grandmother’s grave?” He stood there, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his eyes locked onto mine without so much as a blink. “I bought a house here. I stay here whenever I’m in town on business.” A wave of disgust washed over me, instantly killing any desire to be polite. I looked down, already mentally calculating the cost of moving somewhere else, and stepped aside to walk away. But Tristan stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Brooke, I regret it.” I pretended not to hear him, my eyes lighting up as I waved to someone behind him. “Jasper!” Jasper walked over, naturally taking my hand in his. When I first met Tristan, he wasn’t the powerful tech CEO he is today. Back then, in the eyes of our classmates and neighbors, he was just a lonely, impoverished seven-year-old boy. He had no parents and no friends. His divorced parents had tossed him back and forth like a hot potato before finally dumping him on his grandmother. Winters in Seattle were wet and bone-chilling, filled with endless drizzle. While the neighborhood kids played together, Tristan could always be seen trailing behind his grandmother, collecting cardboard and plastic bottles from recycle bins. He wore thin, worn-out clothes, constantly shivering with his head tucked into his collar. Some of the kids from our block spread the story at school, and soon, everyone started calling him “the garbage boy.” Since we lived in the same neighborhood and went to the same school, I constantly witnessed him being bullied and mocked. Eventually, I couldn’t bear to watch it anymore. I began taking care of him in secret. I would pack an extra breakfast to share with him, and I gave him my spare gloves and insulated thermos. When my dad discovered why my things kept going missing, he let out a soft sigh and brought Tristan into our home. From that day on, Tristan played at our house, ate at our table, showered in our bathroom, and did his homework beside me. My mother started buying everything in pairs: one blue, one pink. On Tristan’s tenth birthday, my father bought him a computer. That was the day we discovered his terrifying talent for programming. After that, his life changed completely. He swept every local and national coding competition, his room filling up with trophies and cash prizes. At fourteen, he traveled abroad as the youngest competitor in the World Programming Championship and took first place. I still remember the video of him holding the trophy on a bustling European street, his eyes shining brightly as he smiled into the camera. “I want to thank Mr. and Mrs. Su. Without them, I wouldn’t be standing here today. And thank you, Brooke.” We were only fourteen, but watching that broadcast, my face burned crimson. During our senior year of high school, the day he received his early admission letter to Boston Tech, he wrapped his arms around me. “Brooke, please apply to a school in Boston,” he whispered softly in my ear. For that single sentence, I left Seattle and enrolled in a mediocre local college in Boston. I had always been ordinary: ordinary grades, an ordinary life, an ordinary degree. I was nothing like Tristan. He was a man of extremes. When he loved something, he loved it to the point of obsession. He loved programming, and he worked himself to exhaustion to launch his startup. He loved me, too, often running across campus just to eat breakfast with me after pulling an all-nighter at his office. But when he hated, he hated with equal intensity. During our freshman year, Tristan used his hacking skills to break into his biological father’s small logistics firm, systematically ruining his most lucrative contracts. During our junior year, while his startup was in its most critical phase, he took a night off to throw a lavish party, celebrating the day his mother’s second marriage collapsed. Looking back, the way he treated me after he fell out of love was entirely consistent with who he had always been. 2 At twenty-three, the moment I graduated, Tristan and I got married. By then, his company was valued at millions, and he had purchased a luxury penthouse in one of Boston’s most expensive districts. Because we had no financial worries, I took a quiet, low-stress job earning about three thousand dollars a month. In a city like Boston, it wasn’t a high salary, but the hours were strictly nine-to-five, and the office was incredibly close to Tristan’s headquarters and our home. Tristan was consumed by his work, and I had no grand career ambitions. I preferred coming home to cook dinner and tend to our pets. In the beginning, everything was perfect. Tristan’s company grew rapidly, and he was hailed as one of the youngest, most promising tech executives in the country. He was sharp, confident, and deeply devoted to me. He would sit at our table, drinking the soup I had simmered for hours, and tell me how incredibly lucky he felt. But gradually, his nights out grew longer, and the distance between us stretched into a chasm. The breaking point arrived on Tristan’s twenty-seventh birthday. I stayed up waiting for him all night. When he finally walked through the door at dawn, I spotted a clear smear of red lipstick on his collar. In that instant, something inside me snapped. I hurled his birthday cake at him, lunging forward to tear at his shirt. I smashed everything within reach: the dishes, the decorations, our framed wedding portraits. Tristan watched my hysteria with cold, detached eyes. He calmly reached behind him to close the front door. “Brooke, if you’re going to scream, at least close the door. If you don’t care about your reputation, I care about mine.” He looked at me, his brow furrowed with deep irritation. “You’re still my wife, and as long as you don’t cross the line, nothing will change. No one is going to take your place. Be reasonable. It’s better for everyone.” He didn’t even bother to deny it. He just stood there and admitted it. My mind shattered. I lunged at him again, but he pushed me away with enough force to send me stumbling. He looked down at me, his words cutting like glass. “Look at yourself. Do you look like a CEO’s wife? You look like a screaming street vendor.” He turned and walked out of the apartment. He didn’t return for weeks. I was twenty-seven, proud, and entirely unprepared for that level of humiliation. I began showing up at his office, demanding a confrontation. It didn’t take me long to find out who the other woman was: Vivian, his corporate partner. Tristan hadn’t even tried to hide her. They were already behaving like a married couple in front of the staff, attending meetings and dinners together. His assistants, his executives, everyone knew. I was the only one kept in the dark. The betrayal kept me awake for days. Eventually, I lost control and lunged at Vivian in the office lobby, grabbing her hair as we tumbled to the floor. She was thin and lacked my physical strength, but even as I pinned her down, she glared up at me with tears in her eyes. “I know I’m wrong, Brooke! But I was there coding with Tristan when we were still in college! We pulled seventy-hour weeks, drank cheap coffee, and survived on instant noodles! Where were you? What were you doing?” “Tristan would finish a twenty-hour shift and still have to run to your campus to walk you to your morning classes! You sat back and enjoyed his success while he nearly worked himself to death! You don’t deserve him!” My hands went limp, and I stumbled back, staring at her in disbelief. How could she speak with such self-righteous fury? Was she actually accusing me of failing him? Tristan rushed into the lobby. He didn’t look at me once. He helped Vivian up, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and led her away. I walked back to our empty penthouse like a ghost, sitting in the dark for days, her words echoing in my mind. Where was I while they were building his dream? What was I doing? I was in Seattle. 3 I was taking care of Tristan’s grandmother. She was a gentle, kind-hearted woman who had always treated me like her own family. During our senior year of college, she fell gravely ill. Tristan’s startup was at its most critical point, and he was working himself to the bone. Meanwhile, I was trying to finish my thesis and secure an internship. Tristan had collapsed into my arms one evening, weeping as he talked about his company and his grandmother’s failing health. I remembered exactly what I told him. I told him I would return to Seattle to care for her. Tristan had held me so tight I could barely breathe, whispering endless promises of gratitude. He told me he had decided to marry me when he was fourteen, and that he would spend the rest of his life making me happy. His tears had soaked my shoulder, and I comforted him, telling him I needed a break from the academic pressure anyway. I claimed it would be good to spend some time with my own parents. I had gaslit myself into believing I was the one who needed a break, all to ease his guilt. And so, I spent over a year in Seattle, working with my parents to nurse his grandmother through her final days. I didn’t return to Boston until after her funeral. Tristan had kept his promise. The moment I got back, he proposed with a diamond ring, and we married shortly after. But now, his mistress was standing in his office lobby, demanding to know what I had done to deserve him. It was a sick joke. I locked myself in the apartment, weeping through the nights, slowly destroying myself. I obsessed over our history, trying to figure out where things had gone wrong. Sometimes I hated Tristan with a burning passion; other times, I blamed myself. I had married an extraordinary man, but I had failed to keep pace with him. After two weeks of silence, Tristan came home. He held a bouquet of crimson roses, handing them to me as if nothing had happened. “Vivian agreed not to press charges for the assault.” “Brooke, think about your parents. Your father is a high school teacher. If you keep making these scenes, do you think his reputation will survive the scandal?” He actually had the nerve to bring up my parents. “We have a lifetime of history together. Vivian isn’t going to take your status. You have wealth, position, and everyone in this city calls you Mrs. Lu. I’ve given you everything a woman could want. You need to be content.” “Be sensible, Brooke. Let’s just go back to the way things were.” Mrs. Lu. What a sickening title. Looking at the man standing in front of me, a wave of physical nausea hit me. I rushed into the bathroom and threw up until my stomach was empty. A week later, I found out I was pregnant. The news thrilled Tristan, and he seemed to commit himself to our family. He took my hand, his eyes filled with apparent remorse. “I made a mistake, Brooke. I’m sorry. Now that we have a baby on the way, I’m done playing around. I promise I’ll cut things off with Vivian. Let’s raise this child and build a real home.” I wept, but eventually, I chose to believe him. I convinced myself that I shared some of the blame, that his years of hard work had taken a toll on him. He was back now, and that was all that mattered. But the human heart is a fragile thing. I felt as though my soul had been hollowed out. I had lost my job after missing so much work, so I spent my days sleeping, staring at the walls, and waiting. Tristan kept his word, coming home every night to cook dinner and read stories to my belly. And I might have actually believed he had changed, if Vivian hadn’t started sending me video clips every single day. 4 He spent his nights with me, but his days were still spent with Vivian. In the videos Vivian sent, the staff called me “the primary boss’s wife” and referred to Vivian as “the little boss’s lady.” They joked about Tristan’s ability to keep both of us happy. On Vivian’s birthday, Tristan announced to the entire office that anyone who wished her a happy birthday would receive a double bonus. He certainly knew how to make a woman feel special. Watching those videos, I realized Tristan’s love was like a firework: brilliant, loud, and easily given to anyone. All I had left was the ash. I didn’t know why I was still clinging to the ruins of our marriage. But looking down at my six-month pregnant belly, I couldn’t bring myself to give up on the life growing inside me. I decided to block Vivian’s number, put my head in the sand, and just focus on bringing my baby into the world. But Vivian had no intention of letting me find peace. On a rainy Tuesday afternoon, she showed up at my door carrying a large cardboard box. She didn’t come inside; she simply dumped the contents onto the floor of my entryway. Out spilled my old college notebooks, a framed photo from our wedding, and a small horse sculpture I had bought Tristan when he started his company. “Brooke,” Vivian said, her smile sweet but her eyes cold as ice. “Tristan said these things were taking up too much space in his office. He wanted me to throw them away, but I thought it would be a shame to lose such precious memories. I brought them here so you could keep them.” Staring at the mess on the floor, I didn’t even feel angry. “Get out,” I said quietly. I was done fighting with her. It wasn’t worth the energy. “Oh, are we sensitive today? I haven’t even started,” Vivian sneered, stepping closer and intentionally shoving her shoulder into mine. “Tristan told me you look like a bloated pig these days, and that you smell like baby formula. He says looking at you makes him sick.” She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Did you know we bought a new, larger sofa for his office lounge?” My vision blurred. The fragile peace I had built shattered into a thousand pieces. I don’t remember how I lunged at her, or how we ended up on the floor. I don’t even remember when Tristan arrived. There was only chaos, screaming, and then a sharp, tearing pain in my abdomen. When I woke up, the storm had passed. I was lying in a hospital bed, and my baby was gone. Tristan sat beside me, clutching my hand as tears streamed down his face. “Brooke, we’re still young. We’re only twenty-eight. We can try again. I swear, I’ll cut Vivian out of my life permanently this time…” Without a word, I grabbed the paring knife from the fruit basket on my bedside table and plunged it toward his chest. He flinched, and the blade buried itself in his shoulder. But even as blood soaked his shirt, he didn’t let go of me. He held me tight, weeping into my shoulder. His tears felt like grease on my skin. The moment I was discharged, I filed for divorce. Tristan refused to sign the papers. In response, I picked up another knife and drew it across my wrist, slicing deep into the flesh. The sight of the blood terrified him, and he finally signed the papers. In the settlement, he transferred ten million dollars to my account. I didn’t refuse the money; I knew I would need it to pay for my medical treatment. My mind was broken. I was diagnosed with severe, clinical depression.

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