Category: English

“Summer, go play a Happy Birthday song for Evelyn.” Nathan sat on the sofa with Evelyn nestled in his arms. He was ordering me to perform for his mistress. My right hand had been crushed by a falling beam three years ago. I could no longer play a complete piece. But I couldn’t refuse. Because my brother was still lying in the ICU, and Nathan controlled his ventilator. I endured the piercing pain, pressing one key at a time. Evelyn walked over and poured red wine on my crippled hand. “That sounds awful.” The wine stained his mistress’s shoes, but Nathan didn’t even bat an eye. “Kneel down. Clean her shoes.” I knelt. In front of everyone, I bent my once-proud back and used my sleeve to wipe the wine stains from the tips of her shoes, bit by bit. I looked at Nathan one last time. He didn’t know I had terminal brain cancer. I only had three months left. Summer POV “Summer, malignant brain tumor, terminal stage. The tumor’s location is compressing your optic nerve and pain center. Surgery carries extreme risks. Without intervention, you have at most three months to live.” I looked at the brain scan in my hands, my face deathly pale, but my eyes showed not a trace of emotion. I simply nodded quietly and slipped the scan into a paper bag. “I understand. Doctor, no need to arrange hospitalization. Just prescribe me some painkillers. I’ll notify the hospital on my last day. Please help me arrange organ donation. My corneas… if they’re still usable, please donate those as well.” I saw the doctor freeze. He seemed to have never encountered a young person facing death with such calm. He tried to dissuade me again, but I only smiled palely, stood up, thanked him, and left. Walking out of the hospital entrance, the December wind cut through my thin coat like a knife. I pulled it tighter. The phone in my pocket suddenly vibrated violently. One name flashed on the screen: Nathan. I swiped to answer. The man’s voice was low and cold, without a trace of warmth. “Get to the New York Plaza Hotel within thirty minutes. For every minute you’re late, Mason’s ventilator gets unplugged.” “I’ll be right there.” I didn’t even offer an explanation before the call was ruthlessly disconnected. In the top-floor ballroom of the New York Plaza Hotel, people wore glamorous clothes, holding wine glasses and chatting with each other. Today was Evelyn’s twenty-fourth birthday. When I pushed open the heavy doors, all eyes fell on me. I wore a faded shirt that looked completely out of place here. In the center of the sofa, Nathan sat with his legs crossed, his handsome face radiating deep coldness. Evelyn leaned intimately against him, like a noble princess. “Oh, Summer’s here.” Evelyn covered her mouth with a coy laugh, her eyes full of contempt. “Nathan said he prepared a special surprise for me today.” Nathan held a cigarette between his fingers. He didn’t even lift his eyelids. His voice was bone-chillingly cold. “Summer, go to that stage over there. Play a Happy Birthday song for Evelyn.” Gasps immediately rippled through the room. Everyone knew I had once been New York’s famous piano prodigy, winning an international gold medal at fourteen. But three years ago in a fire, Nathan’s brother Ryan had died trying to save me, burned so badly he couldn’t be saved. And my right hand had been crushed by a falling beam. I could never play a complete piece again. Since then, Nathan hated me. He used every means to bankrupt my family. He used my brother Mason, now a vegetable, to blackmail me. He took me, once a proud prodigy, and crushed me beneath his feet. “What? You don’t want to?” Nathan lifted his eyes. His gaze was like a sharp blade. “Or would you rather go to the hospital tomorrow to collect Mason’s body?” “I’ll play.” My voice was hoarse. I didn’t resist. I walked to the pure white Steinway piano and sat down. My stiff, deformed right hand moved to the keys. The moment I pressed the first note, extreme pain spread from my finger bones throughout my entire body. But the worse pain came from deep within my brain. A tearing sensation. The tumor was acting up. My vision instantly blurred. I bit my pale lips and pressed one key at a time. The originally smooth, cheerful melody came out broken and fragmented under my fingers. Mocking laughter from wealthy girls echoed around me. “What piano prodigy? She plays worse than a street beggar now.” “She got Ryan killed. She deserves to be tortured like this by Nathan.” Evelyn picked up a glass of red wine and walked to the piano, deliberately sighing with false regret. “Summer, you play so badly. It’s really ruining the mood.” As soon as she finished speaking, she tilted her wrist. Red wine poured entirely onto my scarred right hand. The wine dripped along the keys. My whole body trembled. My fingers hung in midair. Then I heard Nathan’s cold, heartless voice. “Playing so badly, and you’ve dirtied Evelyn’s ears. Summer, kneel down and clean her shoes.” The entire ballroom fell deathly silent. I stared blankly at the man sitting not far away. That face was still the one I’d fallen for at first sight when I was eighteen. But the way he looked at me now held only endless disgust and hatred. Pain in my brain surged like a tsunami. My vision darkened in waves. Cold sweat beaded densely on my forehead. Seeing me motionless, Nathan suddenly smashed the wine glass in his hand onto the floor. The sound of shattering glass was piercing. “Do you not understand me? Kneel down!” I took a deep breath and forcibly swallowed the sourness in my eyes. I stood up and dragged my heavy legs to stand before Evelyn. Under everyone’s mocking gazes, I slowly bent my once-straight back. My knees touched the ground. “I’m sorry, Evelyn, for dirtying your ears.” Trembling, I extended my sleeve and wiped the red wine splattered on the tips of Evelyn’s shoes, bit by bit. My utterly humble posture finally brought a flash of satisfied cold amusement to Nathan’s eyes. He seemed to find it very satisfying. “Get out. Stop being an eyesore here.” Nathan spat out those few cold words. I stood up numbly, head bowed, and walked out. With every step, the pain in my brain intensified. Outside the hotel, New York was caught in a downpour. Without an umbrella, I could only stumble through the storm. Ryan, can you see this? The me you saved with your life has become a complete joke. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Soon I’ll go to make amends to you, to repay everything Nathan owes you, all of it cleared after death.

Summer POV I didn’t know how I made it back to the luxury villa. When I arrived home, I was soaked through, like someone just pulled from water. The villa was empty, with only endless darkness and cold wrapping around me. I’d just changed out of my wet clothes when a violent dizzy spell hit my brain. I leaned over the sink and vomited a large mouthful of fresh blood. The red liquid looked terrifying against the white ceramic basin. Trembling, I rinsed away the blood and fished two painkillers from my pocket, swallowing them dry. Just then, the roar of a car engine sounded from downstairs. Nathan had returned, and he’d brought Evelyn. I steadied myself against the wall and walked downstairs, just in time to see Evelyn intimately hugging Nathan’s neck as she surveyed the villa’s decor. “Nathan, after we get married, let’s redo all this decoration. I don’t like this cold style.” “Whatever you want.” Nathan’s voice carried rare tenderness. Hearing footsteps, they both looked up. Seeing me, the tenderness on Nathan’s face instantly vanished, replaced by extreme disgust. “What are you doing down here?” Before I could speak, Evelyn’s gaze suddenly fell on my neck. There hung a sapphire necklace. The only keepsake from my late mother, and the most valuable thing I owned. “Nathan, that necklace is so beautiful. My birthday wish tonight was to have a sapphire necklace just like that.” Evelyn leaned against Nathan’s chest, her voice coy. Nathan looked at me coldly and commanded without any warmth. “Take it off. Give it to Evelyn.” I clutched the pendant at my chest tightly, my knuckles turning white. “No! This is my mother’s keepsake. Nathan, you can’t take it!” For three years, no matter how he tortured me, I endured silently. But this necklace alone was my last connection to this world. “Keepsake?” Nathan sneered, strode forward, and gripped my chin, with force that seemed ready to crush my bones. “A vicious woman like you doesn’t deserve keepsakes. When you killed Ryan, did you think about how he didn’t even leave a last word!” I was forced to tilt my head back, my eyes red-rimmed, my voice violently trembling. “That fire wasn’t set by me! I’ve explained countless times!” “Shut up!” Nathan interrupted me brutally, his eyes churning with intense hatred. “I won’t listen to your excuses. The necklace. Either you take it off yourself, or I call the hospital to cut off Mason’s medication right now.” Mason was my younger brother, my only living relative who’d become a vegetable after being severely injured in that incident three years ago. Hearing Mason’s name, all the strength seemed to drain from my body instantly. The severe pain in my brain surged violently again. My vision became blurry in an instant. I laughed miserably as tears finally slid down my cheeks. “I’ll take it off.” With trembling hands, I unfastened the clasp at my neck. The sapphire, still warm with my body heat, was handed over by my own hands. Evelyn happily received it and put it on immediately. “Thank you, Nathan. I love it so much.” “As long as you’re happy.” Nathan didn’t even glance at me again. He put his arm around Evelyn and headed upstairs. “The air’s too dirty down here. Let’s go back to the room.” I stood alone in the spacious living room, hands clutching my head tightly, the pain almost suffocating. Late at night, the basement was cold and damp. This was the bedroom Nathan had arranged for me. I curled up on the narrow hard bed, my pain nerves tortured madly by the tumor. I bit the blanket to keep from making any sound, until a bloody taste welled up deep in my throat. I suddenly coughed up a large pool of dark blood that stained the rough sheets red. Three months… I looked at the blood in my palm, my lips twisting into a smile uglier than tears. Nathan, wait three more months. You’ll never have to see me again. This life of mine. I’ll return it to you soon.

Summer POV The next morning, I dragged my extremely weak body to the hospital. In the intensive care unit, Mason lay quietly on the bed, his body covered with tubes. I sat by the bed and gently held his pale, cold hand. My voice was as soft as a breeze. “Mason, I might not be able to wait for you to wake up. Don’t be afraid. After I’m gone, the money will be enough to maintain your treatment. If there’s a next life, you can protect me instead, okay?” The hospital room door opened. Dr. Hayes walked in wearing a white coat. Hayes was Mason’s attending physician. Over these three years, if he hadn’t been secretly looking after Mason, my brother wouldn’t have made it this far. “Summer, why do you look so bad?” Hayes looked at my gaunt face, his brow furrowed tightly. “What happened to your hand? And have you been having frequent headaches lately?” As a perceptive doctor, he seemed to have noticed something wrong with my body long ago. “I’m fine, Hayes. I just didn’t sleep well last night.” I instinctively hid my hand in my coat pocket and avoided his gaze. I couldn’t let anyone know about my condition. If Nathan found out, he’d only think it was a new trick to escape atonement. Hayes looked at my forbearing appearance. He seemed deeply pained. He suddenly stepped forward and gripped my shoulders. “Summer, stop staying with Nathan! He’s sucking you dry, demanding your life! Come with me. I’ll take you abroad. I can find a way to treat Mason too!” “What big words from Dr. Hayes. Where exactly do you want to take my wife?” A cold, vicious voice suddenly rang out from the doorway. Nathan, dressed in a black suit, strode into the room. His gaze fixed deadly on Hayes’s hands on my shoulders, his eyes filled with extreme fury. My heart lurched. I quickly pulled away from Hayes’s grip. “You’ve misunderstood. We were just discussing Mason’s condition.” “Misunderstood?” Nathan laughed coldly and grabbed my wrist, roughly pulling me to his side. “No wonder you couldn’t wait to run out first thing in the morning. Turns out you were rushing to meet your old flame. Summer, a woman as unfaithful as you truly disgusts me.” “Nathan, don’t go too far!” Hayes’s eyes reddened with anger. He rushed forward to pull me back. But Nathan swung his fist and punched Hayes in the face, shouting a warning. “Touch her one more time and I’ll pull Mason’s tubes today!” Those words hit my weak spot completely, cutting off any resistance. I desperately held Hayes back. “Hayes, please stop! I’ll go with him.” Nathan dragged me like lifeless cargo, stuffed me into the car, and sped all the way back to the villa. As soon as we entered, he threw me hard onto the carpet. “So desperate for a man? Can’t help seducing people even at the hospital?” Nathan loosened his tie and looked down at me from above, his eyes full of disgust. “Since you’re so idle, do something useful for me.” He waved his hand. Bodyguards carried in several heavy cardboard boxes filled with red wedding invitations. “Next month is my wedding with Evelyn. These remaining ten thousand invitations. You’ll write them all by hand. If you don’t finish, Mason won’t get another cent for medical expenses.” I lay on the floor, staring at that glaring red color, feeling as if my heart had been carved out alive. This was the wedding he’d once promised me. Now he wanted me to personally write his name alongside someone else’s. “Fine. I’ll write them.” Not a single tear fell. I was calm to the point of numbness. Seeing me not even resist, Nathan seemed even angrier. He snorted coldly and turned to leave. Under the dim light of the basement, I gripped my pen and wrote “Nathan” and “Evelyn” word by word. Ten thousand invitations. A mountain of them. By late night, the tumor’s compression of my optic nerve worsened again. The text before my eyes began to double, then became a blurry black mass. Extreme pain exploded from the back of my skull. My whole body convulsed from the pain. The pen tip scratched a jarring bloody line across the paper. I nearly bit through my lip just to keep from passing out. My vision went completely dark. I could only rely on muscle memory to write with my eyes closed in the darkness. Every stroke was the most painful farewell to this humble love.

Summer POV For three full days and nights, I was locked in the basement without a drop of water or bite of food, until I finished the last invitation. When I leaned against the wall and stumbled to push open the living room door, the harsh sunlight stung my already blurred eyes. On the sofa, Evelyn was trying on a lavish diamond wedding dress. Nathan sat nearby, flipping through documents. The scene was so warm it was blinding. Hearing movement, Evelyn turned her head and covered her nose in disgust. “Summer, why do you look like such a mess? You reek of mold. Stay away from my wedding dress.” I ignored her and walked to Nathan, my voice so weak it seemed ready to break. “Ten thousand invitations. I’ve finished them. Mason’s medical expenses. You should transfer them to the hospital now.” Nathan looked up. His gaze fell on my deathly pale face and cracked lips. His brow furrowed slightly. Before he could speak, Evelyn suddenly stood up from the sofa and walked to my side. She deliberately stepped on the long train of her wedding dress, then cried out and fell backward. “Nathan, save me!” Nathan reacted quickly and caught Evelyn in one swift motion. Evelyn took the opportunity to clutch her stomach, tears streaming down her face. “Summer, I know you’re jealous I get to marry Nathan, but you can’t push me!” “I didn’t push you.” I stated the fact calmly. A heavy slap struck my face hard. Nathan’s face was icy cold, the viciousness in his eyes undisguised. “Summer, you never change! If anything happens to Evelyn, I absolutely won’t let you off!” The slap knocked my head to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. My ears rang. The whole world seemed to spin endlessly. “Nathan, my engagement ring is gone!” Evelyn suddenly shrieked, pointing at the outdoor pool beyond the floor-to-ceiling window. “When she pushed me just now, the ring flew off and fell into the pool! You gave me that ring!” It was now frigid December. The outdoor temperature had dropped to ten degrees below zero. The pool’s surface had even formed a thin layer of ice. Nathan looked at me coldly and ordered mercilessly. “Go fish it out.” I stared hard into those bottomless black eyes, trying to find even the slightest trace of reluctance. But there was none. Only endless indifference and hatred. “Nathan, I’ll die in there.” My voice was extremely soft, stating a fact. “Then go die.” The man spat out those five words ruthlessly. “That life of yours was owed to the family anyway.” Yes. I owed him. I smiled. I turned around, pushed open the floor-to-ceiling window, and walked into the biting cold wind. Under Nathan’s and Evelyn’s watchful eyes, I stepped into the freezing pool without hesitation. The bone-chilling water instantly submerged my calves, then my waist, then my chest. That cold wasn’t just cold. It was like countless red-hot needles stabbing into my marrow all at once. The nerve pain from the brain tumor erupted completely under the extreme cold’s stimulation. My face went white as paper. I groped underwater, diving into the ice water again and again. Through my hazy vision, I saw Nathan standing by the floor-to-ceiling window on shore, watching my body rise and sink in the ice water. He bit down hard on his teeth. His hands seemed to unconsciously clench into fists. Three hours later. I finally found that sparkling diamond ring on the filter screen at the bottom of the pool. My whole body was as stiff as an ice sculpture. My legs had completely lost all sensation. Relying on the last instinct for survival, I forced myself to crawl ashore. “The ring. I found it.” I collapsed on the floor, trembling as I held that diamond ring out to Evelyn. But Evelyn stepped back in disgust, covering her nose. “After falling in that dirty water, I don’t want it anymore. Nathan, let’s just go buy a new one, okay?” “Fine. Since it’s dirty, throw it away.” Nathan’s voice came from above my head. Immediately after, the ring I’d traded half my life for was kicked mercilessly into a nearby trash can by the man. I lay on the cold floor, staring at that sparkling ring in the garbage, and suddenly let out a hoarse, low laugh. The laughter grew louder, mixed with violent coughing. I felt everything inside my body tearing apart. Nathan, you’ve not only trampled my dignity, you’ve personally killed the last faint glimmer of love I had. My vision plunged into complete darkness. In that icy cold, I lost consciousness entirely.

Summer POV “How long has she been playing dead?” Through the haze, I heard a cold voice near my ear. “Mr. Nathan, Summer has been burning with a 104-degree fever for a full day and night. If this continues, someone’s going to die…” the servant answered fearfully. “Die? Disasters live long. She’s not that easy to kill.” Nathan snorted coldly. I heard his footsteps fade farther away. I lay on the hard bed in the basement, feeling as if I were in a burning sea of flames. It felt like thousands of drills were frantically grinding in my head. The pain left me without even the strength to make a sound. It hurts so much… someone save me… Just when I thought I’d die in endless darkness, the basement door was kicked open. Hayes burst in with bloodshot eyes. Seeing me unconscious with fever on the bed, he looked both furious and heartbroken. “Summer! Wake up!” He immediately took off his coat and wrapped it around my cold body, lifted me up, and charged out of the villa like an enraged lion, heading straight for the hospital. The emergency room’s red light stayed on for three full hours. In the hospital room, I had an IV in my hand. My already thin face was now utterly bloodless. Hayes looked at the just-released brain scan report. His hands were trembling violently. “Terminal malignant brain tumor… Summer, why didn’t you tell me anything!” Hayes’s voice carried a desperate sob. I slowly opened my unfocused eyes and weakly pulled at the corner of my mouth. “Hayes, don’t tell Nathan… I don’t want him to think I’m using a sympathy ploy to deceive him.” “Even now you’re still protecting him!” Hayes closed his eyes in pain. Bang! The hospital room door was suddenly kicked open with tremendous force. Nathan strode in with an icy aura. He stared deadly at Hayes holding my hand by the bedside. The fury in his eyes seemed ready to burn everything down. “Hayes, you’ve got some nerve, daring to snatch someone from my villa?” Nathan stepped forward through gritted teeth, grabbed Hayes by the collar, and shoved him aside hard. Then his gaze turned darkly to me on the bed. “I thought you were really dying, but turns out you just switched locations to have a tryst with your old flame. Summer, you truly have no shame!” “Nathan, you’ve gone too far! Do you know she’s already…” Hayes angrily tried to shout the truth, but was interrupted by my weak scream. “Hayes! Don’t say it!” I coughed violently, my eyes full of pleading. In Nathan’s eyes, this seemed like ironclad proof that I was desperately protecting Hayes. “What a touching tragic couple’s performance.” Nathan laughed in extreme anger. He suddenly reached out and ripped the IV needle from the back of my hand! The sharp needle was brutally pulled from the vein, bringing up a string of red blood droplets that splattered on the white sheets. “Nathan, you’re insane!” Hayes tried to intervene but was pinned against the wall by bodyguards who’d followed. “Come back with me.” Nathan completely ignored my cry of pain. Like dragging a lifeless rag, he forcibly pulled me from the hospital bed. My legs had no strength. I fell directly onto the cold tiles. Blood from the back of my hand dripped onto the floor, but I didn’t struggle. I lifted my head. Those once-bright eyes now looked like a pool of stagnant water. “Nathan.” My voice was extremely soft but carried a frightening death-like stillness. “In this life, have you ever loved me?” Nathan’s movement paused. He seemed to feel a stab of pain, but he quickly covered it up and mocked coldly. “Love? You think you’re worthy? You’re only fit to spend a lifetime atoning at Ryan’s grave!” “I understand now.” I closed my eyes. A final tear slid from the corner of my eye. In this moment, the shackles that had bound me for three years finally shattered completely. The Summer who deeply loved Nathan had died in that cold hospital room. What remained was just a shell counting down to death.

Summer POV Three days later was the third anniversary of Ryan’s death. The sky was overcast gray, drizzling cold winter rain. In New York’s largest cemetery, the atmosphere was oppressively suffocating. Ryan’s parents stood before Ryan’s headstone, faces full of grief. Evelyn held a black umbrella, standing obediently beside Nathan. When I dragged my extremely weak body close, Ryan’s mother’s eyes instantly turned red. She rushed at me like a madwoman, raised her hand, and slapped me hard across the face. “You cursed woman! How dare you show your face to see my son?!” she screamed shrilly. She swung her other hand for another slap, hitting me so hard I swayed and fell heavily into a muddy puddle. “If it weren’t for you, how would my son have been burned alive! Why didn’t you die? Why wasn’t it you who died!” Ryan’s mother cried and screamed while picking up the flowers in her hand and throwing them frantically at my head and face. I didn’t dodge. I knelt on the ground, letting mud and petals fall all over me. My cheeks were swollen and aching. My eardrums rang. My vision had blurred so much I couldn’t see Ryan’s photo on the headstone clearly. I could only bow my head deeply toward that direction. “I’m sorry…” My voice was hoarse, repeating over and over. Nathan watched all this coldly, like a lofty judge. “Nathan, Summer looks so pitiful. Why don’t we just let it go?” Evelyn pleaded falsely from the side, but her eyes were full of satisfaction. “She’s pitiful? When Ryan was burned to death in the ruins, who pitied him?” Nathan’s voice held not a trace of warmth. He walked to stand before me, looking down at my utterly wretched appearance from above, and coldly ordered, “Since you came to atone, show some sincerity. Kneel here for twenty-four hours. One minute less, and I’ll make Mason go down to keep Ryan company.” I stiffly lifted my head. Rain slid down my pale face. “Fine.” I answered calmly and straightened my back, kneeling properly before the headstone. They turned and left with their umbrellas. Soon, the vast cemetery held only me. The winter rain was bone-piercing, cutting like blade edges into my skin. The severe pain from the brain tumor compressing my nerves made every second a living hell. But I didn’t dare fall, because Mason was still waiting for me in the ICU. From day to night, then to the next morning. Twenty-four hours. I endured it all. When Nathan’s bodyguard came to check, what he saw was a body that seemed already frozen to death. I mechanically stood up. My legs, after prolonged lack of blood circulation, gave out and I collapsed to the ground. I spat out a mouthful of dark red blood. The blood sprayed onto the stone slab in front of Ryan’s headstone. I carelessly wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. I looked at the headstone and murmured in a low voice. “Ryan, the life I owed you. I’ve repaid it with three years of endless torment. The rest, I’ll soon come to the other world to return to you personally.” After leaving the cemetery, I didn’t return to the villa. Instead, I went to the hospital. I found Hayes and handed him a signed transfer consent form. “Hayes, do me a favor. I’ve already contacted brain neurology specialists abroad. Take Mason overseas for treatment. I’ve transferred that overseas trust fund under my name entirely to your account. The password is Mason’s birthday. This money will be enough for him to live comfortably for the rest of his life.” Hayes looked at the documents in his hands. His eyes suddenly reddened. He grabbed my wrist. “Summer, what about you? Are you coming with us?” I gently withdrew my hand, a weak smile forming on my lips. “I’m not going. I can’t walk anymore, Hayes.” “No, modern medicine is so advanced. As long as you’re willing to go abroad, there’s definitely still hope!” “There’s no hope.” I calmly pointed to my own eyes. “Since yesterday, I can’t see anything anymore.”My time left is only three days.” Hayes stood there as if struck by lightning. Desperate tears spilled from his eyes. I turned around, groped along the wall, and slowly walked out of the hospital. In this world, my only concern had been properly arranged. Next, I only needed to quietly wait for death to come.

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I used to believe Ethan truly loved me. Until that day, when I found the engagement invitation in his car. His and Vivian Sinclair’s, the heiress of the wealthy Sinclair family. Ethan was getting married, but the bride wasn’t me. And in front of me, he was still the same gentle, considerate, perfect boyfriend. In the private lounge, he and his friends mocked me in French. “Keeping Lila on the side isn’t much trouble. She’s so obedient in bed, I can’t bear to break up with her.” They didn’t know. My French scores were top of my class. For three years, I clipped my own wings, willing to be his caged canary. Now it’s time to wake from this dream. I submitted my application to study at the top veterinary medical center in Boston. Ethan, you’re getting married. And I’m going to fly back to the sky where I belong. Lila POV “Miss Hayes, working late again today? Mr. Ford has been waiting outside for you for quite a while.” Sarah, a nurse, smiled and joked. I took off my work clothes, washed my hands, and smiled gently. “There was an emergency surgery today. It took a bit longer than expected. I’m heading out now. Thanks everyone for your hard work.” I pushed open the glass door of the veterinary hospital. The early autumn night breeze carried a hint of chill. A low-key, luxurious black Maybach was parked by the curb. The window rolled halfway down, revealing Ethan’s handsome profile. Three years together. He was the heir to New York’s top financial empire, and I was just an ordinary veterinarian. Everyone said I was lucky, and I once believed Ethan truly loved me. I opened the car door and got into the passenger seat. Ethan naturally leaned over to fasten my seatbelt, his crisp woody cologne enveloping me. “Why so late today? I’m taking you to meet some friends.” His voice was low and lazy, with its usual indulgence. “A dog had complications during birth. I just finished doing a cesarean section.” I explained softly, reaching for the wet wipes in the glove compartment to clean my hands. But the moment I pulled open the drawer, my movements froze. Deep in the glove compartment lay a white invitation. The invitation bore two familiar names. Ethan Ford and Vivian Sinclair. My breathing stopped for a moment, my fingers trembling slightly. Vivian was the heiress of New York’s Sinclair family, also from an extremely wealthy background. So while I’d been standing at the operating table until my legs went numb for a few hundred dollars in surgery fees, my boyfriend had already set a wedding date with someone else. “What’s wrong?” Ethan noticed my reaction and glanced over. I calmly pulled out a wet wipe, closed the glove compartment, my voice so steady even I found it unbelievable. “Nothing, just grabbing a tissue.” Half an hour later, the car stopped at New York’s most exclusive private club. The lounge door opened to reveal luxury and opulence, smoke curling in the air. The noisy conversation paused in unison the moment they saw me. Ethan took my hand and led me to a seat, his expression untroubled. Before I could adjust to the atmosphere, Marcus, sitting across from us, raised his eyebrows, his tone dripping with undisguised contempt. “Ethan, why’d you bring Lila Hayes? This lounge has poor ventilation. Why do I smell that animal stench?” The moment he finished speaking, low laughter rippled through the lounge. My fingers tightened around my glass, knuckles turning white. Every day at the hospital I dealt with sick animals. Even though I showered and changed clothes before leaving work, to these rich kids’ noses, I seemed to permanently carry an unwashable animal smell. I turned to look at Ethan, but saw him only carelessly swirl the wine in his glass. He didn’t speak up for me. Instead, he said in that tone one uses to soothe a pet, “Honey, ignore them. They’re just joking.” Marcus saw Ethan wasn’t angry and grew bolder, deliberately speaking in French to the person beside him. “Ethan is getting engaged to Vivian next month. What are you planning to do about Lila? You’re not seriously going to keep her for life, are you?” Everyone present knew I came from an ordinary background, had even paid for college with scholarships. They were certain I couldn’t understand French, and their laughter grew more unrestrained. Ethan took a sip of wine and replied in equally fluent French. “The marriage alliance is my family’s idea. The wedding is just going through the motions. Lila is very obedient, doesn’t make a fuss. Keeping her on the side isn’t much trouble.” The lounge erupted in laughter again. Someone mocked, “True, these broke women are so easy. Give them a little money and they’ll behave.” The mocking laughter assaulted my ears. No one noticed that sitting quietly in the corner, the light in my eyes was extinguishing bit by bit, turning into deathly silence. They didn’t know I’d taken a second language in college. My French scores were top of the entire program. Three years together, Ethan spoiled me lavishly. Bought me designer bags, let me live in his mansion. But never once introduced me to his family. I thought he was protecting me, afraid I’d be hurt. Only today did I understand. In his eyes, I was never a partner who could stand beside him, but a “very obedient, quiet” pet. In that moment, I suddenly felt even confronting him was unnecessary. From now on, he could marry his Vivian, and I would be a veterinarian. We would have nothing to do with each other anymore.

Lila POV After everyone had been drinking for a while, the atmosphere in the lounge grew increasingly heated. I felt cold all over. When the gathering ended, everyone headed out together. I lagged half a step behind. Just as I reached the hallway, I heard a voice laced with malice behind me. “Lila.” I stopped and turned. It was one of the wealthy guys who’d laughed the loudest in the lounge earlier. He looked me up and down and sneered. “Ethan’s getting married soon. If you’re smart, you’ll take the money and leave. Don’t think that just because you’ve been with Ethan for a few years, you can marry into a wealthy family. Someone like you who deals with animals all day. How could you compare to Vivian?” I looked at him quietly, my face showing no ripples, as if watching a clown. Ethan, who’d been walking ahead, noticed I hadn’t followed and turned back, coldly glancing at the man. “Watch your mouth.” The man awkwardly touched his nose and didn’t dare say more. On the drive back, the car was terrifyingly quiet. When we arrived at the apartment they shared, Ethan took off his coat and hung it on the rack. From behind, he pulled me into his embrace, his chin resting against the hollow of my neck, his voice low and soft. “You had a rough time today? I won’t take you to these kinds of gatherings anymore, so their words won’t upset you.” I didn’t struggle, only asked in a flat tone, “Do you think I embarrassed you?” Ethan chuckled softly, turned me around to face him, and reached to ruffle my hair, but I dodged by tilting my head. His hand froze in mid-air. He said helplessly, “What are you overthinking? I just don’t want them targeting you. Honey, you just need to know that you’re the only one in my heart. That’s enough.” The only one in his heart? Then what was that white invitation? What did “keeping on the side” mean? I looked at his affectionate eyes and felt nothing but disgust. I didn’t expose him, only said flatly, “I’m tired. I want to shower.” Ethan let me go. “Alright, go shower. I’ll handle some emails in the study.” When I came out from my shower, Ethan had just gone into the bathroom. He casually left his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up with an Ins message. Ethan’s password was my birthday. I’d never checked his phone before, but today, I couldn’t control myself from reaching out. Unlock. Open Ins. Besides me, there was another account at the top without a name. The newest message read: “Honey, we’re trying on wedding dresses tomorrow. Can’t you come keep me company tonight? I know you can’t bear to leave your girlfriend, but we’re getting married soon. You need to show me some respect, right?” Scrolling up, there were chat records of them discussing wedding venues and selecting diamond rings. Though Ethan didn’t reply much, every sentence showed the indulgence and compromise a fiancé should have. Looking at those glaring sentences, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain suffocating. I put the phone back and reset the message to unread. Before long, Ethan came out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam, picked up his phone and glanced at it. His expression changed slightly. He turned to look at me sitting at the vanity, a flash of apology in his eyes. “Lila, there’s an urgent matter at the company. I need to go over there. I probably won’t be back tonight. You should get some sleep early.” He left in such a hurry, he didn’t even wait for my response. After a while, my phone vibrated. It was a message from an unknown number. In the photo, Ethan sat on the sofa in the Sinclair family villa, Vivian leaning against his shoulder, the two in an intimate pose. Then came a text message: “With just one word from me, he’ll still abandon you to come find me. Lila, after we get married, what will you be? A shameful mistress?” I stared at the screen as tears finally fell. This knife was wielded by Vivian, but handed to her by Ethan himself. I wiped away my tears, opened my laptop, logged into the hospital’s internal system, and pulled up a document. “Application for Selection of Outstanding Physicians for Two-Year Advanced Training at Boston’s Top Veterinary Medical Center.” Without hesitation, I filled in the information and clicked submit. Ethan, since you’re getting married, I wish you a happy wedding.

Lila POV The next day, I went to the hospital as usual. The director was very surprised when he saw my training application. “Lila, this training opportunity is rare, but you’d have to spend two full years in Boston. Does Mr. Ford agree?” I lowered my eyes, my voice calm but firm. “This is my personal career plan. It has nothing to do with him. I hope it can be approved as soon as possible.” Seeing my resolute attitude, the director sighed and signed it. “Alright, the procedures will take about a week. Prepare for the handover these next few days.” After work, I returned to the apartment and took out a large black trash bag, beginning to clean out the room. Couple’s mugs, couple’s slippers, clothes he’d bought me, even the stuffed animals we’d gotten together at the amusement park… Everything that held memories of us together, I mercilessly threw into the trash bag. I’d just carried two large bags of trash to the door when I heard the lock turn. Ethan pushed open the door. Seeing the trash bags on the floor and the much emptier living room, he frowned slightly. “Why are you suddenly cleaning out so much stuff?” “Season’s changing, spring cleaning. I’m throwing out old things I don’t need anymore.” My tone was indifferent, and I didn’t even glance at him. Ethan didn’t think much of it. He walked over and hugged me from behind, his tone carrying a hint of coaxing. “The company had too much going on last night, I couldn’t keep you company. There’s a charity gala tonight. Want to come with me?” In the past, I would have considerately declined, afraid I didn’t understand those high society rules and would embarrass him. But today, I turned to look at that affectionate face and nodded. “Sure.” The gala was held in the ballroom of a seven-star hotel. I wore the haute couture gown Ethan had someone deliver, and walked into the venue on his arm. The moment we entered, we attracted quite a few glances. We hadn’t walked far when a woman in a wine-red evening gown with exquisite makeup approached. It was Vivian from the photos. Vivian’s gaze lingered for a moment on my arm linked with Ethan’s. A flash of jealousy crossed her eyes, but she quickly masked it and spoke with a bright smile. “Ethan, you made it.” Ethan’s expression showed a moment of discomfort. He instinctively withdrew his arm from mine and introduced us. “Lila, this is Vivian, a good friend of mine.” Good friend. I laughed coldly inside, but my face showed no reaction. Vivian held a Ragdoll cat in her arms and looked at me coquettishly. “I’ve heard Ethan has a girlfriend who’s a veterinarian. Finally getting to meet you today. Miss Hayes, my cat hasn’t been feeling well lately. Since you have so much experience caring for these little animals, could you take a look?” She emphasized the last sentence heavily, her contempt undisguised. Several of Ethan’s friends gathered around and chimed in. “That’s right, Miss Hayes. This is Miss Sinclair’s beloved pet, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. More than your annual salary. You’d better take good care of it.” I stood there, my gaze cold as it swept over everyone, finally landing on Ethan’s face. Ethan frowned slightly, seeming to think Vivian’s words were too much, but he didn’t speak up to scold her. Instead, he said to me, “Lila, if you know how, just take a look for her.” The last trace of hope in my heart shattered completely. I withdrew my gaze, glanced at the cat, my voice cold. “Miss Sinclair, the cat is severely stressed. Noisy environments like galas aren’t suitable for bringing pets. If you truly loved it, you wouldn’t use it as a tool to show off. Also, I’m a doctor, not a servant.” Vivian’s expression stiffened. Just as she was about to lose her temper, Ethan interrupted her. “Alright, Vivian. Lila’s right. Have someone take the cat back.” He seemed to be defending me, but the intimacy and indulgence in his tone was like a thorn stabbing deep into my heart.

Lila POV The charity auction began. Ethan and Vivian’s seats were arranged together. The organizers’ deliberate arrangement in consideration of the upcoming marriage alliance between their families. As Ethan’s date, I could only sit on his other side. As auction items were displayed one by one on stage, Vivian kept leaning over to whisper to Ethan. The two appeared intimate, like a couple. I sat beside them like a superfluous outsider. “Our next auction item is a pet collar set with top-grade pink diamonds. Starting bid, two million.” The host’s voice rang out on stage. Vivian’s eyes lit up and she immediately raised her paddle. “Three million.” Marcus from the back row whistled and laughed loudly. “Miss Sinclair is so wealthy, spending three million on a cat collar. Miss Hayes, even if you did spay and neuter surgeries your whole life, you probably couldn’t earn enough for this collar, could you?” Low snickers rippled through the crowd. I sat with my spine straight, my gaze fixed forward, as if I hadn’t heard those taunts. Ethan frowned, turned to look at me, and said in a low voice to comfort me. “Ignore them. What do you like? I’ll bid on it for you.” I turned to look at him, at those deep eyes, my tone so calm it held no ripples. “No need. I’m not worthy of such expensive things.” Ethan thought I was sulking and immediately raised his paddle. “Five million.” The entire venue buzzed. Vivian looked at him with delight. “Ethan, are you buying it for me?” Ethan didn’t deny it, only smiled faintly. I felt the air here suffocating. I stood up. “I’m going to the restroom.” I splashed cold water on my face, looked at my pale reflection in the mirror, and took a deep breath. Just as I was about to turn and leave, the restroom door was pushed open. Vivian walked in on her high heels. Without outsiders, Vivian dropped her mask completely, her eyes contemptuous and vicious. “Lila, I thought my message was clear enough. Why are you still shamelessly clinging to Ethan?” I pulled out a paper towel to dry my hands, looking at her coldly. “Miss Sinclair, please get it straight. I’m the one who’s been with him for three years. Who’s really the homewrecker here?” Vivian laughed as if she’d heard the biggest joke. “Love? You think there’s real love in wealthy families? You’re from an ordinary family, you’re a veterinarian. You have nothing. What do you have to compare with me? Do you really think Ethan will marry you?” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “He’s just after something fresh, treating you like a toy. Next month we’re getting engaged. If you’re smart, you’ll leave him quickly. Otherwise, once I become Mrs. Ford, I have plenty of ways to make your life in New York unbearable!” Looking at her arrogant face, I felt no anger in my heart, only deep sorrow. I wasn’t sad about Vivian’s bullying, but about Ethan’s tacit permission and indulgence. “Don’t worry, Miss Sinclair.” I threw the used paper towel precisely into the trash bin, my tone as cold as if discussing something completely unrelated to me. “I never take back trash. You two are the real couple. I wish you a lifetime together.” With that, I ignored Vivian’s furious expression and walked straight out of the restroom. When I returned to the ballroom, the auction had ended. Ethan held the velvet box containing the pink diamond collar and handed it to Vivian. Seeing me return, he walked over and put his arm around my waist. “Where were you for so long? The gala’s over. Let’s go home.” I didn’t dodge his touch, only nodded obediently. Go home? No, that apartment full of lies had long ceased to be my home.

Lila POV The three of us walked together to the hotel’s underground parking garage. Ethan had just pressed the car key to unlock when Vivian quickly walked over in her high heels, her face showing just the right amount of distress. “Ethan, my car won’t start, and my driver took the day off. Could you give me a ride home?” Ethan frowned slightly and instinctively glanced at me. I stood in place, my expression indifferent, as if I hadn’t heard Vivian’s words. Seeing Ethan hesitate, Vivian bit her lip, her voice softer. “Mom specifically told me today to come home early and rest. We still have to try on wedding dresses tomorrow. If you don’t take me home and Mom asks…” Hearing “Mom” and “try on wedding dresses,” Ethan’s expression darkened, but he finally nodded. “Get in.” A flash of triumph crossed Vivian’s eyes as she walked straight to the passenger seat and opened the door. “Oh my,” she suddenly exaggeratedly covered her nose, fanning the air in disgust. “Why does the passenger seat smell like dog hair? Miss Hayes, you sit here all the time and don’t bother to clean up? I’m allergic to animal fur.” I watched her crude performance coldly. I was wearing an evening gown today and hadn’t been to the hospital at all. Where would dog hair come from? Ethan’s frown deepened. He looked at me, his tone carrying a hint of imperceptible irritation. “Lila, sit in the back. Vivian has allergies.” I didn’t argue, didn’t even hesitate for a second. I directly opened the back door and got in. My movements were quick and decisive, which actually made Ethan freeze for a moment. He probably expected me to make a scene, to feel wronged. But I was as calm as stagnant water. The car left the parking garage and drove onto the road. Vivian sat in the passenger seat, happily chatting with Ethan about their families’ collaborative projects and the upcoming engagement party details. “Ethan, that French restaurant has great desserts. Let’s use them for the engagement party favors, okay?” “Sure.” “Also, the wedding dress, the designer said it’ll be ready tomorrow. You have to come with me to try it on.” “Mm, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” They chatted happily, treating me in the back seat as if I were air. I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. The neon lights flashing by outside the window alternated across my pale face. Listening to their intimate conversation up front, I felt wave after wave of nausea. I used to think Ethan was a man of few words. It turned out he just had nothing to say to me. In the social class he belonged to, he could be just as gentle, considerate, and talkative. The car first drove to Vivian’s family villa. Before getting out, Vivian deliberately turned to look at me, her eyes full of a victor’s pride. “Miss Hayes, thank you for giving me the passenger seat today. Ethan, see you tomorrow.” The car door closed and the car fell silent again. Ethan cleared his throat, attempting to explain. “Vivian has been spoiled by her family since childhood. She says things that are a bit much. Don’t take it to heart. I only took her because our families are working together…” “Ethan,” I interrupted him, slowly opening my eyes, my gaze clear and cold. “Pull over at the intersection up ahead. The hospital just messaged me. There’s an emergency surgery and they need me to come back.” Ethan was taken aback. “It’s so late and you still have to go back? I’ll take you to the hospital.” “No need. It’s not on your way.” My tone was firm. The car stopped at the intersection. I pushed open the door and walked into the night without looking back.

Lila POV For the next few days, I practically lived at the veterinary hospital. Using work handover and emergency cases as excuses, I declined all of Ethan’s invitations and didn’t return to the apartment even once. Friday afternoon, the training approval documents were officially issued. Next Monday, I would fly to Boston. I arranged to meet my best friend Chloe at a coffee shop near the hospital. “What? You’re going to Boston for two years of training? And you’re breaking up with Ethan?!” After hearing my words, Chloe nearly spit out her coffee. I stirred the coffee in my cup, calmly recounting the invitation, Vivian’s provocations, and that phrase in the lounge about “keeping on the side.” “Ethan, that bastard!” Chloe slammed the table in anger, drawing glances from surrounding customers. “I used to think he was one of the rare devoted ones among the wealthy! Having a marriage alliance with a rich heiress while still wanting to keep you as a mistress? How dare he!” I smiled bitterly. “Yeah, I used to think he truly loved me too. But now that I see clearly, it’s good I can end this mistake early.” “When are you planning to make it clear to him?” Chloe held my hand sympathetically. “The day I leave.” I lowered my eyes. “I don’t want to fight with him, and I don’t want to hear his hypocritical explanations. Leaving quietly is the last dignity for this relationship.” Just then, the wind chime at the coffee shop entrance rang. I instinctively looked up, and the color drained from my face instantly. The person walking in was none other than Ethan and Vivian. The two walked in side by side. Vivian intimately held Ethan’s arm, tilting her head to say something, smiling radiantly. Though Ethan’s expression was neutral, there was no resistance in his eyes. He even considerately pushed open the glass door for her. This scene stabbed my eyes and completely ignited Chloe’s fury. “These two bastards actually dare to show up right in front of us!” Chloe shot up from her seat, about to rush over and confront them. I grabbed her, clutching her wrist tightly, my voice trembling slightly. “Chloe, don’t. It’s not worth it for people like them.” The commotion on our end caught Ethan’s attention. He turned his head, his gaze cutting through several tables to collide directly with my cold stare. Ethan’s body went rigid. He instinctively tried to withdraw his arm from Vivian’s grasp. Vivian also saw me. Not only did she not let go, she held on even tighter, defiantly lifting her chin. Ethan’s expression changed. He quickly walked to my table, his tone tinged with panic he himself hadn’t noticed. “Lila, what are you doing here? I… Vivian and I were just discussing business nearby and stopped in for coffee.” “Discussing business requires holding arms? Mr. Ford’s business methods are truly unique!” Chloe laughed coldly, her mockery merciless. Ethan’s brow furrowed. He ignored Chloe, staring intently at me. “Lila, let me explain…” “There’s no need to explain.” I stood up, my tone terrifyingly calm. “Mr. Ford, this is your private matter. You don’t need to explain it to me. We have things to do. We’re leaving first.” I didn’t call him Ethan, but Mr. Ford. I pulled Chloe along and walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.

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The day I moved out, I sent Robertson a voice message. “Let’s break up.” A second later, he replied with one word: “Okay.” My best friend Catherine sat across from me, her jaw practically hitting the floor. “You two were about to get married. Breaking up is that simple?” I took a sip of coffee, bitterness spreading through my mouth. “Because he didn’t even listen to my voice message.” No matter what message I sent him, he only ever replied with “okay.” It actually didn’t bother me at first. I’d gotten used to it. Until I discovered that when other women sent him voice messages, he’d smile and patiently listen to every word. When I saw that 60-second voice message marked as “read” on Robertson’s phone, he was still asleep. The light from the phone screen hit my face, and tears just streamed down. I knew Robertson found it troublesome. He didn’t like chatting. He didn’t like listening to voice messages. Over the years, I’d learned to accept it. But that fully-listened-to 60-second voice message carved a wound straight through my heart. Thiago. His high school classmate. His gaming partner. They chatted about games every day, mixed with everyday conversation. Their chat history took up twice as much storage as mine. Love becomes heavy through difference. Robertson’s character seemed to have crumbled too. “Baby… come here.” Perhaps my crying was too loud. Robertson stirred awake, half-conscious. His arm reached out and pulled me tightly into his embrace. His warm arms carried Robertson’s unique scent, and my tears broke through the dam. He loved me too, didn’t he? He still wanted to hold me while sleeping… In that moment, I wanted so badly to wake him up and confront him. To have a huge fight. But I was truly exhausted. Robertson and I were pressed close together, yet I felt he was so far away. This bed was too wide. I lay on my side like that all night, letting the tears fall silently. I thought Robertson and I had reached the end. The next day I started looking at apartments. After half a month of searching, I settled on a two-bedroom. During all this time, Robertson didn’t notice a thing. Even today when he left, I answered a call from the moving company and he didn’t pay attention. After eating with Catherine and saying goodbye, I returned to the apartment Robertson and I shared. This apartment was bought by Robertson’s parents as our wedding home. Although we weren’t married yet, to save money, Robertson and I had moved in early. I didn’t actually need to come back. After all, this home barely had anything of mine left in it. But I wanted to see how long it would take a forensic scientist—someone who survived by detecting the smallest clues—to notice his future wife had moved out. I’d just sat down when the door behind me opened. “Home early today?” Robertson bent down to change his shoes, greeting me naturally, no different from any other day. As expected, he hadn’t listened to that voice message. Like an auto-reply bot, he’d just responded with “okay.” I opened my mouth, bitterness filling it, hard to swallow. “Why didn’t you make dinner?” Robertson glanced at the empty dining table and asked with surprise. Unless there was something unusual or special plans, I basically cooked for him every day. I didn’t answer. Robertson put down his bag and went into the bathroom.

Through the door, I could hear Robertson typing on his phone. And some audio leaking out. No need to guess—he was chatting with Thiago. I’d actually made a scene about this once before. Robertson didn’t take it seriously. He thought I was making a big deal out of nothing. “I’m with you every day. Why would I need to chat online? If it’s urgent, you can call. If it’s not urgent, you can tell me when I get home.” “Thiago is different. We don’t see each other every day, so of course we chat!” I rubbed my temples and walked into the bedroom. When I came back out, Robertson had already ordered takeout and was eating. Only one portion. Nothing for me. I couldn’t help but laugh, my voice trembling as I asked him, “Why did you only order one?” “Huh? Did you want some?” “I thought you were dieting to fit into your wedding dress!” When he said this, Robertson didn’t even look up at me. If he’d just looked up, he would have seen my tears. But he didn’t. “Robertson, let’s talk.” I took a deep breath. The instant I pulled out a chair to sit down, he stood up. “No time. Thiago and I are scheduled to play games.” The takeout container left on the table for me to clean up. The pulled-out chair. The man walking away. In that moment, I felt all the pressure in the house rushing toward me. My chest felt like it was covered with a plastic bag. Even breathing became difficult. In the study, they’d already connected their mics. “Robertson, interested in the new movie? I’ve been looking forward to that film for so long.” “I knew you’d say that. I already bought tickets. I’ll take you tomorrow.” “You’re so thoughtful!” “I just heard a coworker mention it today and immediately ordered them to surprise you.” Robertson’s thoughtless replies echoed in my ears, word by word. For Thiago, he always had time, always had heart. For me, he only had one line: “She’s a friend, you’re my wife. Can they be the same?” Robertson, if being your wife is this exhausting, I’d rather be your friend. With a bang, I kicked open the study door. Robertson spun around sharply, instinctively covering the microphone. He frowned, looking at me in confusion. “Tomorrow we’re scheduled to try on wedding dresses. Did you forget?” Sharp edges leaked through my tone. Robertson seemed to sense my mood and looked troubled. “I made plans with Thiago to see a movie tomorrow. I already bought the tickets.” “How about you go try on the dress yourself? I wouldn’t be much help anyway. Or maybe ask Catherine to go with you?” In one second, he’d figured out a compensation plan and an excuse. Accompanying his wife to try on wedding dresses wasn’t important. Accompanying his female classmate to the movies was. “No.” I refused flatly. Robertson glanced at the game on his computer screen. Thiago’s urging voice came through the headset. He was getting anxious. “Dixon, can’t I have my own things, my own plans?” “Do I have to revolve around you once we’re married?” These words almost made me laugh. When had he ever revolved around me? No messages during work hours. After work, diving straight into games. He hadn’t participated in a single wedding preparation. We still hadn’t picked out rings together… His world was full. As for who he revolved around—who knew. I looked at him with disappointment. “Robertson, is marriage just my responsibility?” Exhaustion colored my words.

“You’re being unreasonable.” After saying this, Robertson put on his headset and started the game without looking back. “Women are such a hassle.” “Thiago, when you get married, definitely don’t be this much trouble.” A casual complaint that drew bell-like laughter from the other end of the headset. Robertson and I started dating freshman year of college. At first, Robertson was attentive to me. He’d walk with me, take me to movies. He just really didn’t like chatting. But when we met in person, he was always considerate. “I don’t like chatting. Typing is a hassle. Listening to voice messages is a hassle too.” “I’m like that with everyone.” I accepted Robertson’s personality. Back then I told myself, that’s just how he is. Later, when we were together, he introduced me to Thiago and often brought me to play games with them. But I didn’t have the talent for it. After playing for a while, I dropped out. I shouldn’t have seen the dense chat history between Robertson and Thiago. Or Robertson’s comments on every single one of Thiago’s Twitter posts. He’d even message Thiago when he couldn’t sleep late at night, but he never reached out to me. That feeling was like swallowing a needle. That night, Robertson didn’t come back to the bedroom. He pulled an all-nighter gaming. The next morning I left Robertson a note: “Meet me at the bridal shop.” “I have something to discuss with you.” He could ignore WhatsApp. He could leave voice messages unread. But a note—surely he wouldn’t miss that. But I’d forgotten that some people aren’t blind in their eyes, but in their hearts. I sat on the sofa watching couple after couple come and go while my cup of hot water was refilled again and again. Until the staff came over apologetically. “Miss Dixon, we’re getting ready to close…” Their hesitant discomfort was a kind of sympathy for me. I walked home in stops and starts. On the way, I checked Thiago’s Twitter countless times. “Yay, mission accomplished!” The photo showed a movie theater screen. The hand making a peace sign in the lower left corner was Robertson’s. If moving out was my test for Robertson, then this time I truly needed to give up. At the corner downstairs, I saw familiar figures at the BBQ restaurant Robertson and I frequented. His back was to me. Thiago sat across from him, gesticulating animatedly. Until Thiago saw me. Robertson turned around. In the noisy restaurant, an indescribable atmosphere spread among the three of us. “Dixon,” Thiago pulled out a chair, letting me sit beside her. “How did the dress fitting go today?” Thiago was making conversation, trying to ease the awkwardness. Robertson’s hand holding the fork trembled slightly. Before I could speak, Robertson did. “Waiter, a mango ice cream.” I knew Robertson felt guilty. He was trying to apologize to me this way. It was hot. The ice cream was starting to melt when it arrived. “Eat it quick before it melts.” I glanced at it but didn’t move. Robertson frowned. “Don’t you love mango ice cream?” Thiago laughed. “Silly, I’m the one who loves mango ice cream!” Robertson scratched the back of his head sheepishly, looking at me apologetically. “Sorry, I got confused…” I knew he hadn’t gotten confused. He’d never remembered my preferences in the first place. Because when we were together, I always ordered. He never had to think about it. Robertson not only didn’t remember my preferences—he’d forgotten. I’m allergic to mangoes. I lowered my head and scooped up a spoonful of the ice cream.

Spoonful after spoonful, I ate the entire bowl of mango ice cream right in front of Robertson. That night, my whole body burned up and broke out in a rash. When I got up to find allergy medicine, the living room light turned on. I thought Robertson had remembered. Instead, he just walked past me into the bathroom. “Middle of the night. What are you looking for?” A bland question, spoken nasally. He didn’t even glance at me before returning to the bedroom. As for an answer, he didn’t care. Looking at the allergy medicine in my hand, I collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. In that moment, my love died completely. That night, I sent WhatsApp messages canceling all wedding-related arrangements. The next day, I was woken by Robertson’s voice. “Why did you sleep on the sofa?” “What happened to you? All these red spots?” Robertson crouched by the sofa, his eyes full of concern. After all these days, it felt like the first time we’d made eye contact. That feeling was strange yet familiar. “Damn it! I forgot—you’re allergic to mangoes!” Robertson’s guilt came out of nowhere. He called in sick and took me to the hospital. The entire time, he played the part of an extremely attentive fiancé. “Your husband treats you so well.” The nurse setting up my IV sneaked a glance at Robertson getting medicine and teased me. But watching Robertson bustle around, my heart was as calm as stagnant water. Well? If he treated me well, I wouldn’t be having an allergic reaction. I forced a smile. Three hours of IV drip. Robertson stayed with me, didn’t even touch his phone once. It rang a few times, but he didn’t look. Actually, I knew it was probably because of his work. Robertson really wouldn’t chat during work hours. He and Thiago only started messaging on weekends after work. On the drive home after the IV, Robertson seemed to remember something. “Yesterday you said you had something to discuss with me. What was it?” My hand pulling the seatbelt paused. So he knew all along. He remembered. I shook my head and fastened my seatbelt. “Nothing.” Nothing left to discuss. Robertson kept talking on the way, trying to cheer me up, but I couldn’t seem to hear a single word. “Want me to make you hot milk when we get back?” Robertson talked as he walked out of the elevator. A few steps later, he stopped. Through him, I saw Thiago crouched at our front door. “I’m so sorry, Thiago. I forgot we planned to play games today.” Thiago stood up looking wronged, rubbing her numb legs. “You didn’t even reply to my WhatsApp. So annoying.” “Are we still playing or not?” Robertson looked troubled and turned to look at me. I ignored him and walked straight past them to open the door. Robertson followed hesitantly, negotiating with me in a low voice. “Let me make you hot milk first. After you drink it, rest well. Thiago and I will play games in the study. We definitely won’t disturb you.” Thiago had followed inside too. I looked up. “Do whatever you want.” Robertson could probably tell my mood was off, and ultimately chose not to play games. He knocked lightly on the bedroom door. “I’ll take Thiago home first.” Hearing the front door close, I walked out of the room. The glass of milk on the dining table was still steaming. I sat at the table watching the time pass—one hour, two hours. Robertson never came back. Until dusk fell, the door remained still. I knew Robertson wouldn’t come back.

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After finding condoms in my husband Jacob’s passenger seat yet again, I wasn’t angry anymore. I just silently helped him put them away. Jacob gave me a complicated look and volunteered an explanation. “Check for yourself. This box hasn’t even been opened.” I said nothing, closing my eyes and pretending to sleep. Half an hour later, he pulled up in front of a store and said to me: “Let’s go buy a gift for your mom. We’ll go back to your place together for Christmas to see her.” My tears finally fell. My mom was dead. He still didn’t know. “Iman? Are you listening to me?” Jacob’s voice dropped several notes, full of oppressive force. My voice came out hoarse. “No need.” No need to go back. Never need to go back again. But he misunderstood what I meant and leaned over to look at me. “Are you mad? “Just trust me, okay? Otherwise count them yourself.” He opened the box as he spoke, dumping out all the condoms. His eyes were helpless yet indulgent, as if looking at an unreasonable child. I wiped my tears and looked over. “I’m really not mad.” Jacob leaned over and hugged me, sighing. “And you say you’re not mad. “Didn’t you always want me to go back with you? “This Christmas I finally don’t have any work obligations. “If we miss this chance, who knows when the next one will be.” His palm gently soothed my back, just like before. But I numbly pushed him away and nodded. “Okay, then let’s go.” Before my mom died, she kept talking about how Jacob was too busy with work and hadn’t been able to visit. If Jacob had time this Christmas, it would be good for him to pay his respects. After all, once we got divorced, there’d be no reason to ask him to go. But on Christmas day, Jacob didn’t come home. As if I’d expected it all along, I calmly accepted the possibility that he might miss the flight. So I took a cab to the airport by myself. It wasn’t until the plane started moving that he called me. “Sorry, something came up here that delayed me. “Can you change your ticket? How about we leave tonight instead?” I looked at the scenery retreating outside the window and swallowed my tears. “No need. I’ve already left.” I didn’t even bother asking him the reason. But Jacob volunteered an explanation. “It’s really not because of Leah this time. “A project we’d already agreed on suddenly had some problems. I thought I could make it. “Iman, don’t make a scene.” I don’t know where he heard that I was making a scene. I spoke calmly. “I know you’re busy. You can come tomorrow.” Waiting one more day didn’t matter. That’s all there was to it. Jacob breathed a sigh of relief. “Wait for me like a good girl. I’ll cook for Mom when I get there. “She always said my cooking was good. It’s probably been years since she’s had it. “This time I absolutely—” “I’m tired. I want to sleep.” I interrupted his fantasy, tears streaming down my face. I really wanted to scream it out loud. My mom can’t eat it anymore! Where were you all this time! But I was tired. I didn’t want to argue. Too many arguments. I’d argued myself into exhaustion. It was like I was a person without self-respect, shamelessly begging for his attention. As long as he came, as long as my mom could see him. It wouldn’t be for nothing that my mom had raised him all those years. It wouldn’t be for nothing that I’d brought him home back then, and for over a decade after, he’d eaten at my house every day. But I’d overestimated him after all.

Uncle Coleman saw that I’d come back alone again. His expression wasn’t good. That evening, Aunt May tentatively asked: “Did you and Jacob have a fight? “Actually, when your mom was in the hospital, she noticed something too, but didn’t bring it up because she was afraid you’d be hurt. “You should rein in your temper. With both parents gone, you only have your husband to rely on. “Having a child as soon as possible is what’s most important right now.” I listened quietly and told her Jacob would come tomorrow. I explained: “His company hasn’t been doing well these past few years. He always has work obligations. “When my mom was in the hospital, he wanted to come too. Don’t worry, we’re fine.” I didn’t want the family to know I was planning to divorce. I was too lazy to deal with their attempts at reconciliation. But I didn’t expect Jacob to break his promise again. In the morning, he told me he was on his way to the airport. May had prepared abundant ingredients early in the morning. “It’s good he’s coming. He didn’t even show up at your mom’s funeral. The whole village thought you’d been abandoned. “Now he can shut them up. “You should come back more often too. Come sit with us at home.” May bustled about in the kitchen, chattering as she worked. But after making a whole table full of dishes, Jacob didn’t answer any of my calls. “Let’s eat first.” I forced down my emotions and spoke, looking at them apologetically. May and Coleman exchanged glances and both nodded. “Okay, okay, let’s eat first then.” “I’ll have your cousins come over too. We can’t finish all this food ourselves anyway.” “They can go up the mountain with you afterward.” May spoke while busily preparing the tableware. Food left on the table for half an hour in winter had long since lost its warmth. I forced back my tears, smiling with difficulty. Coleman suddenly sat down next to me and ruffled my hair. “You’ve always had your own mind since you were little. Do whatever you want to do. “If your dad were here, he wouldn’t bear to see you suffer like this. “This is always your home. You still have family here. Don’t listen to May. People need to live freely.” I smiled at Coleman and got up to go to the bathroom. I only came out after crying. Coleman and May were in the kitchen reheating the food when my phone rang. It was Jacob calling. “Leah’s in the hospital, in surgery. “It’s a matter of life and death. I can’t just ignore her. “Iman, tomorrow. I’ll come get you tomorrow. “And I’ll bring Mom back to stay for a few days too.” I numbly listened to his words, emotions churning in my chest. I didn’t want to get angry. My mom always said: “Iman, don’t always lose your temper. It’s not worth it. “Let’s just live our lives peacefully. “Turn a blind eye, and decades will pass. “Look at me—I had so many complaints about your dad before, but after he died, I only remember the good things.” But Jacob was really bullying me too much! “You don’t need to come anymore. When I get back, I need to talk to you about something.” I said coldly and hung up. When Jacob called again, I declined it. His messages came through to my phone instead. [Don’t be unreasonable. Just wait for me.] [If there was anyone else who could help, she wouldn’t have called me.] [About last time, she wanted to apologize to you, but I didn’t let her.] [Iman, you know your own temper. I was afraid you’d hit her again.] [Can’t we just live our own lives well? Why throw a tantrum over small things?] […] He sent many messages. I skimmed through a few. By then my cousins had returned. I turned off my phone and ignored Jacob. The meal was eaten with everyone lost in their own thoughts. When we went to my mom’s grave, my cousins waited for me at a distance. I sat on the ground, looking at the person in the photo. Tears fell as I looked. I had so much to say, but couldn’t speak. Only when leaving did I tell her: “I’m sorry. I lost the son-in-law you liked so much. You won’t blame me, will you?” Just then the wind rose, as if fingers gently brushing across my face. I held back my tears and left down the mountain without looking back.

The next day I boarded a plane back to Los Angeles. On the plane, the divorce agreement the lawyer I’d hired had drafted also arrived on my phone. I looked it over carefully and had them revise a few small details. I didn’t want his company. I had other plans. But I wanted all the cash and properties in our names. The value was also in the eight figures. What I didn’t expect was running into Jacob at the airport. We stared at each other. Standing beside him was Leah, who’d supposedly been in surgery just yesterday. Apparently it wasn’t a life-or-death surgery after all. After all, she could get out of bed the next day, even wearing beautiful makeup. Leah’s eyes were red with anxiety as she rushed to speak. “Don’t blame him. I’m the one who rushed him to come find you, aren’t I? “Of course I know wives are more important than friends. “When I called him, I thought he didn’t have plans for the holiday and could help out. “I didn’t expect him to hide the fact that he was going to your place because he was worried about me. I’m really sorry. “You won’t blame him, will you?” Jacob snapped out of it and instinctively moved Leah behind him. I’d hit Leah before. Since then, he’d never let me have direct contact with her. At this moment, Jacob spoke in a heavy voice. “This is my fault. Don’t take it out on her.” The scene before me made me think of the phrase “mutual devotion.” I nodded and looked at Leah. “Since you’re here too, why don’t you come sit at our place?” She looked completely shocked. Jacob’s brow furrowed. I looked at Jacob teasingly. “Didn’t you say there’s nothing between you two? “If you’re just friends, you don’t even dare bring her home?” I walked ahead. Jacob followed behind with Leah. “Don’t talk with so much hostility. It sounds terrible. “She’s just a young, innocent woman. After you scared her last time, how would she dare come to our house?” I stopped and looked past him at Leah. Our eyes met. Leah suddenly smiled, a hint of provocation in her eyes. “Since Iman invited me, of course I’ll go.” I looked at Jacob again. “Be a man. That bitch is braver than you.” As soon as we got home, I went to the study. I printed out the divorce agreement, bound it, and went to the living room to hand it to Jacob. “Take a look. If there are no problems, sign it. “You can take your things and leave with her today. “The company had my mom’s initial investment of two hundred thousand. I don’t want it. “But all marital assets and properties are mine. Except for the company, give me everything else.” I finished in one breath. Jacob’s expression went from shock to anger. “What the hell is wrong with you? “Does your mom know about this? “You went through all this trouble just to say this? Even tantrums have limits.” I lowered my eyes and spoke flatly. “I’ve already informed her. “What mother doesn’t want her child to be happy? “She was good to you because she wanted you to be good to me. No matter how much she liked you, how could she value you over her own child? “So you don’t need to worry about what she thinks.” At this point, I glanced at Leah. Her smile couldn’t be suppressed. She looked at Jacob with determined confidence. I smiled and continued speaking to Jacob. “Now that things between us have come to this, you don’t think my mom would still be nice to you, do you?” Jacob grew angrier. “What did you tell her? “How many times do I have to say it? Nothing happened between Leah and me!” I threw the divorce agreement in his face and spoke flatly. “Does something only count as happening if you’ve slept together? “Who did you adjust the passenger seat for? “Our wedding anniversary, my birthday, my mom’s birthday… “Which special occasion this year didn’t you spend with her? “Did all her relatives and friends die? “Does she need you, an irrelevant married man, to accompany her for a minor surgery? “Jacob, we’re all smart people. Don’t treat people like fools, okay?” My tone started out calm, but by the end my voice was trembling. But Jacob said coldly, repeating, “I will not divorce you!” He added, “If we divorce, your mom will be heartbroken!” I instinctively shouted: “My mom is dead! How could she be heartbroken?”

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At the school tennis tournament, when my girlfriend Victoria found out my racket cost a hundred thousand dollars, she went ballistic. “A hundred thousand? Just for this piece of junk racket? Are you insane! You’re a complete spendthrift.” She pulled over Killian, a student on financial aid: “His monthly living expenses are less than five hundred dollars. Wouldn’t it be better to help him out instead?” I frowned. “It’s my money. I can spend it however I want. Why should I subsidize him? Just because he’s poor? There are tons of poor people in the world.” Seeing I showed no remorse, Victoria flew into a rage and demanded I hand over all my bank cards. “I’m going to marry you eventually anyway. From now on, I’ll manage all your family’s money. Starting today, you need to submit a request and get my approval before spending anything.” I fell silent, looking at her like she was a stranger, then turned to call my grandfather Johnson to cancel our engagement. Since she sympathized so much with Killian, I’d help them both out!

“Are you serious?” Johnson asked me. “Yeah.” “Why?” “No particular reason. I just don’t like her anymore.” Johnson was silent for a moment on the other end, then said: “Alright, let’s find a time for both families to have dinner together and discuss calling off the engagement.” I agreed and picked up my racket to take the court. After the match ended, I won the men’s singles championship, and thanks to my stellar performance, our class also won the team competition. I became the hero. Many classmates started clamoring to celebrate at a bar. “You guys go ahead. Killian isn’t feeling well today, so I’ll stay with him.” Victoria’s words plunged the atmosphere to freezing point. Everyone looked at me, including the teacher. Because they all knew Victoria and I had grown up together and were engaged. I looked at Victoria, my eyes stinging. Twenty years. She’d left an indelible mark on my heart, but in hers, I apparently didn’t even measure up to Killian, whom she’d only known for a few months. “Victoria, the mood’s so good, don’t be a buzzkill,” a classmate urged her. “Besides, tonight is to celebrate Leopold, so it wouldn’t be right if you didn’t go.” Killian also said: “Victoria, you should go. I’ll be fine on my own.” After speaking, he covered his mouth and coughed twice. Victoria immediately looked anxious, reaching out to pat Killian’s back, her tone reproachful: “You say you’re fine, but how can I feel at ease when you’re like this?” Seeing my expression darken, the surrounding classmates quickly laughed: “Victoria is too kind-hearted, worried about leaving sick Killian alone.” “Yeah, yeah, having such a kind classmate is our blessing.” Kind-hearted? In that moment, my heart ached! Just because of kindness, she could give away my clothes, shoes, watch, even my money to Killian without my permission? Did she even know I was her fiancé with whom she had an engagement? Or did she know but just not care? “Why aren’t you guys leaving yet? Whatever, I can’t be bothered with you. I’m taking Killian to the hospital.” Victoria helped Killian leave, then turned back after two steps and said to me: “Oh right, I almost forgot to mention—you only won the championship because that hundred-thousand-dollar racket gave you an unfair advantage. Your actual skill level is just so-so.” Hearing this, I laughed and nodded: “You’re absolutely right!” Childhood sweethearts for twenty years, but we’d never reach a happy ending. “That’s too much. How could she say that?” My roommate felt indignant on my behalf. “Yeah, Leopold prepared for months for this tournament, leaving at four in the morning every day and not coming back until ten at night.”

“I’m going to make her apologize to you.” I stopped my roommate who was about to chase after them, smiling: “Forget it.” There’s a saying: people who don’t love you can’t see your efforts. Since that was the case, why should I care? “Let’s go. Today’s on me!” The atmosphere at the bar was lively. Because Killian wasn’t there. During previous class group activities, no one had looked down on him for being on financial aid. They’d take him everywhere, but he always said inappropriate things. “Fifty dollars for one drink? That’s so expensive. You guys are really rich.” “I’m not rich like you guys to buy gifts, so I can only give verbal blessings. Happy birthday.” “My family is poor. I really envy how you guys just throw away torn clothes.” He always disguised himself as the victim, as if we were flaunting our wealth in front of him. Whenever this happened, Victoria would always step forward to defend him. “What are you thinking about? You’re today’s star. Why don’t you sing a song for everyone?” My roommate nudged me with his elbow, then stood up and pulled me along, asking the bar’s band to play “At Last” for us. This used to be my favorite song, but not anymore. “Change it to ‘She’s Gone,’” I said, starting to walk toward the stage. My roommate paused, then silently changed the song. As soon as the intro started, Victoria walked in with Killian. Victoria acted like she didn’t notice anything, saying on her own: “Killian persuaded me. I thought about it and he was right—I should come. Plus, I think it’s necessary to let you all see him completely transformed.” Victoria smiled broadly: “So? Isn’t he handsome?” The room fell silent. I looked at Killian wearing my clothes, pants, and shoes, and was the first to applaud: “He really is handsome!” “At least you have good taste!” Victoria was satisfied with my response. “Actually, Killian is very handsome. He just didn’t have money to dress up before. Now you can see he’s just as good as any of you.” I smiled. Handsome? Wearing my clothes, pants, and shoes that clearly didn’t even fit him properly. Victoria looked Killian up and down, tapping her chin: “Seems like something’s still missing.” She turned to look at me: “Leopold, take off your watch and give it to Killian.” I froze, looking down at the watch on my wrist. It was the first birthday gift Victoria had ever given me. It held special meaning for me. Though it was already many years old, I’d always carefully maintained it. I’d even treated it as a token of love between Victoria and me. Now, she was asking me to give it away with my own hands. I was silent for a long time before speaking in a hoarse voice: “Are you sure?” “What’s there to be unsure about? It’s just a watch. It’s not like you can’t afford a new one.” Victoria said indifferently, then personally came over to remove the watch and put it on Killian’s wrist herself. In that moment, I saw Killian smile at me, his eyes full of smugness and provocation. “Leopold, you’ve finally become sensible.” Victoria was pleased that I didn’t make a fuss after giving away the watch. She happily pulled Killian along to sing. I watched the two of them singing a love duet, sitting expressionlessly on the sofa. I hadn’t become sensible—I was learning not to care. When the party ended, Victoria was drunk, leaning drunkenly against Killian and insisting he take her back to her dorm. Killian looked at me with feigned helplessness on his face, but his eyes were clearly triumphant.

I didn’t care: “Since she wants you to take her, then take her.” With that, I walked out of the private room, my eyes already red. The next day, Victoria’s roommate found me: “Leopold, Victoria didn’t come back to the dorm last night. Did she call you?” I immediately fell silent. Victoria’s roommate seemed to realize she’d said something wrong and hurriedly made an excuse to leave. I walked alone to the field, wandering aimlessly on the track, thinking about all the moments with Victoria. Childhood sweethearts, growing up together—my world was full of her. From kindergarten through college, I’d always protected her, never letting her get hurt. In elementary school, when an older student made her cry, I’d pulled her along with red eyes to find the person and demand an apology, not hesitating to get physical. In the end, she got her apology, and though I ended up bruised and swollen, I smiled happily. On her eighteenth birthday, I bought all the fireworks in the city and the front page of every newspaper that day to celebrate for her. That night, both families confirmed our engagement. I was so happy I didn’t sleep all night. I thought we could continue like this together, companions for life, growing old together. But everything changed after meeting Killian. She no longer acted cute with me—instead, there were mostly rebukes and yelling. I endured and endured, for no other reason than because I loved her. But did she love me? Before yesterday, I’d been certain of the answer—she loved me too. But today, I realized I was wrong. She didn’t love me that much. But I didn’t understand—could twenty years of feelings really be less than a few months? I couldn’t find an answer to this question. I don’t know how long passed before I heard someone calling me. It was Victoria, and unsurprisingly, Killian stood beside her. I walked over and looked at Victoria’s beautiful face, my heart aching sharply. The facts were right in front of me. No need to guess anymore. Victoria looked at me guiltily and explained: “Last night, Killian fell and hurt his back on the way taking me home. I stayed with him at the hospital all night.” “Yeah, it hurt so much,” Killian said, rubbing his back. “Even now my back is still sore and aching.” I watched him quietly perform. Hurt his back? What a coincidence. Did he really fall? Or was it because he exerted himself too much? But the answer didn’t matter anymore. I nodded: “Mm.” I turned to leave, but Victoria grabbed me: “Don’t you believe me?” “No, I’m just tired.” I calmly pried Victoria’s hand away. She threw herself at me, hugging me. “Alright, stop being angry. I just forgot last night and didn’t let you know I was safe. I promise you, there absolutely won’t be a next time.” Indeed, there wouldn’t be a next time. I pushed Victoria away and said flatly: “Was there something else?” Killian smiled: “Actually, I have something. Thank you for giving me the watch last night. I really like it.” “But my family is poor, so I can’t give you an expensive gift in return. I saw the mangoes at the supermarket looked good, so I specially picked some to give you. Please don’t look down on them.” Looking at the bag of mangoes Killian held out to me, I saw them like a terrible flood, and kicked the bag over. “Leopold, what are you doing? Killian specially bought these mangoes for you, you…” Victoria angrily berated me, but when she saw my cold eyes, she couldn’t help stepping back twice, swallowing the words at her lips. “Did you forget I’m allergic to mangoes?” Hearing this, Victoria’s expression changed, but seeing Killian standing helplessly to the side looking like he’d done something wrong, her eyes flashed with sympathy and she frowned at me. “Even if you’re allergic to mangoes, just don’t eat them. Why kick them over and disappoint Killian’s thoughtfulness?”

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The day before my period, I saw a note in my fiancé’s memo. 【Predict tomorrow is her period, remember to prepare pads and painkillers in the bag.】 I smiled sweetly, touched by my fiancé’s thoughtfulness. Until the next day, when my lower abdomen cramped with pain, I went through my bag with a pale face, but there was nothing inside. Dark red blood had soaked through my pants. Students pointed at my back and laughed. I thought he had simply forgotten. But the new intern teacher had just posted on her social media: 【Just started work and met Mr. Nice mentoring me! He even prepared pads and painkillers for me. This period doesn’t hurt at all.】 The accompanying photo showed ibuprofen and a pad. The medicine was the brand I’d kept at home for years because of my cramps. The pad was the only brand I could use without an allergic reaction. I turned off my phone and stared at the ring on my middle finger for a long while, then got up and went to the principal’s office to apply for the international teacher exchange program. Seven years, and he’d never remembered my cycle. There was no need for him to remember it anymore.

I submitted my application just as the dismissal bell rang. The principal looked at me with some hesitation, but finally couldn’t hold back. “Miss Jennifer, you and Mr. Luke are having your wedding next month. Just two days ago you were still designing invitations. Now why…” I knew the rest of her unspoken sentence. The exchange program abroad required a minimum of three years before returning. How could newlyweds possibly endure such a long separation? Moreover, everyone at school knew that I had chased after Luke for four years, dated him for three more, and was finally about to walk down the aisle. How could I bear to leave him? But the prerequisite for reluctance to part is that both people like each other. Just now, I suddenly understood that the man who agreed to marry me perhaps didn’t like me as much as I’d imagined. I picked at the dried blood in the creases of my fingers—it had gotten on my hands when I was padding myself with thick wads of toilet paper. I said, “He and I just aren’t meant to be.” “Principal, I’m asking you for a favor. Please don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” She frowned, her eyes revealing a trace of pity. “Alright, I’ll keep this confidential for you.” “The earliest group leaving for the exchange program departs tomorrow. If you want, I can arrange for you to go with them.” I nodded and bowed gratefully before leaving the office. My phone rang for the second time. I opened it and glanced—it was a message from Luke. “What’s taking so long? It’s been ten minutes since dismissal and you’re still not down.” Ever since Luke and I moved in together, I had to leave with him every day after work. “Please, Luke, you already have me—it would be too pitiful for you to go home alone at night.” Even though he taught seniors while I taught freshmen, and Luke’s dismissal time was a full two hours later than mine, requiring me to sit in the office for two extra hours, I never found it hard. But today, after he’d only waited ten extra minutes for me, he was already getting impatient. I pressed my lips together and carefully examined my feelings, but I didn’t feel the suffocating pain I’d expected. That’s when I knew I’d completely let go. I sent back a message. “Still have some things to do, you go ahead.” Then I turned off my phone and didn’t look again. I returned to the office to pack up my textbooks, organized the materials and class information that needed to be handed over, and an hour later, I finally stretched my aching shoulders and left the school gate. I took out my phone to call a cab when a horn honked behind me, startling me. I turned around to see Luke’s car stopped behind me. I froze in place until he honked again and stuck his head out. “Get in the car already. Why are you standing there like an idiot?” I snapped back to reality and thought about the large bloodstain on the back of my pants that might dirty his car. I pulled open the passenger door, about to sit down. Luke glanced at me and handed me a black plastic bag, suddenly speaking. “Wait.” I took the bag, momentarily confused about what he meant. “You know your period is coming and you still don’t know to bring a pad? Jennifer, you’re a 28-year-old adult. Can you have some basic self-care skills?” “Walking around school all day with blood all over your ass—so many students asked me if you had a terminal illness. How embarrassing.” Embarrassing? The smell of blood seemed to fill my nose again. Actually, I had remembered to bring pads, but one memo from Luke made me forget. I thought he’d finally learned to keep me in his heart. In the end, the person he truly kept in his heart was someone else.

I opened the plastic bag. Inside lay a pink pad covered in a thick layer of dust—clearly a brand that couldn’t sell, randomly bought from a roadside convenience store. “If you really didn’t have any, you could’ve borrowed one from someone. Why did you have to hole up at school refusing to come out, making me wait for you for a whole hour?” “Hurry up and go change, then get in the car. Don’t get it dirty.” He kept talking on and on. I looked at his beautifully shaped thin lips and only felt utterly exhausted. I closed the plastic bag and said weakly, “Luke, I can’t use this brand.” To be precise, I couldn’t use any mainstream pads on the market because they all had adhesive backing, and I was severely allergic to glue. Even touching it would make my whole body turn red. Much less during my most vulnerable time, sticking something with glue to my most private area. So I only used one specific brand—the only one I could use. Actually, when I first got together with Luke, I’d mentioned this. “Luke, I’m allergic to glue and can only use this one brand of pads. If you see it on sale, remember to stock up for me, okay?” Luke didn’t even look up from his game, scoffing. “So high maintenance.” My fingers froze on my phone screen. I forced out an ugly smile. “Sorry, I’ll stock up myself. This is kind of troublesome, and you don’t really understand…” He always spoke to me like this, occasionally like he was wielding a club, beating down on me without warning, leaving me hurt and at a loss. But aside from this, he was actually pretty good to me. After we moved in together, he did all the housework and cooked well, even fattening me up by five pounds. Whatever I wanted to buy, he wouldn’t stop me. Even when I brought home weird decorations that didn’t match his home’s style at all, he’d just smile helplessly at most. “Childish.” Over time, I thought that was just his personality—he didn’t like remembering other people’s habits and could be pretty cutting sometimes. Moreover, I was the one who pursued Luke first, so I used the occasional sweetness he gave me to dilute the pain, enduring like this for three years. Until I endured all the way to today, when I couldn’t endure anymore. “Why can’t you use it?” He’d asked me this question seventeen times. I’d explained sixteen times. This time, I wasn’t going to explain anymore. I just casually tossed the pad in the trash and said flatly, “If I say I can’t use it, I can’t use it. Since you’re afraid I’ll dirty your car, I’ll just take a cab home.” His frown deepened, but in the end he still opened the car door and stuffed me into the passenger seat. “It’s too late. Would it be safe for you to take a cab? Forget it, just my bad luck. I’ll go wash the car tomorrow.” Again, this mix of good and bad. I gripped the seatbelt in front of me, my throat tight. I simply took out my phone and contacted the wedding photo company we’d booked long ago. 【Hello, I’d like to cancel the wedding photoshoot scheduled for next week. What procedures do I need to follow?】 The contact I’d labeled “Wedding Photoshoot” kept switching between her name and “typing…” over a dozen times before she finally sent a message. 【Miss Jennifer, three days ago you changed your wedding photos to a couple’s birthday art photos, and Mr. Luke contacted us to move up the shoot. The edited photos will be ready tonight.】 【Your husband didn’t tell you?】 My fingertip hovered over the screen. After a long moment, I realized it was shaking badly. I used my other hand to hold my wrist so I wouldn’t drop the phone. I turned to glance at Luke. He looked straight ahead, driving seriously, everything like before. Perhaps sensing my gaze, Luke tilted his head slightly, his tone unfriendly. “Why are you looking at me? Can’t handle being criticized a little?” I didn’t respond. Once my hands steadied again, I slowly typed. “Can I see the photos?” The shop owner went through the typing motion several times again before sending the photos, along with a ten-second video. 【At the time, your husband repeatedly assured us he wouldn’t cause us trouble, so we agreed to the change and early shoot. Miss Jennifer, please don’t make things difficult for us…】 I had no mind to read what else she sent. I opened the photos, and a familiar face appeared in my pupils, stinging my eyes red. The person in the photo was Ivy, the school’s new intern teacher—the same person Luke had given pads and painkillers to. There were many photos. I flipped through them one by one. Luke appeared in every single one. The two wore matching outfits, looking like an intimate couple. Finally, I clicked on the video. Ivy seemed a bit tired from the shoot and pouted in complaint. “My shoulders hurt so much. Luke, help me rub them.” In those short ten seconds of video, I saw another side of Luke—incredibly gentle in a way I couldn’t believe. “Alright, you little princess. Just one more set of photos. Hang in there a bit longer, and I’ll treat you to a big meal after.” Only then did Ivy smile again, happily raising both hands. “Yay!” My eyes felt sore. I reached up to touch them, thinking I’d feel salty tears, but there was nothing. I couldn’t cry over Luke anymore. It just made me remember some things.

After we got engaged, I’d mentioned many times that we should get our wedding photos taken early, or there wouldn’t be time. But Luke refused. “I don’t like taking photos. You know that. Wedding photos are only for looking at—completely useless. Why do you insist on forcing me to do something meaningless?” I bit my lip and said softly, “They are useful, Luke. When we’re old and can’t remember each other’s faces clearly, we can take out our wedding photos to look at. And we can show our future children how happy Mom and Dad were back then.” “I promise, just two settings—one for the wedding reception and one outdoor shot, okay? I definitely won’t tire you out.” He glanced at me and spat out one word. “Dramatic.” Even so, I wouldn’t give up. I kept pestering him for a long time, getting hurt to tears by Luke’s harsh words several times before he finally reluctantly agreed to take wedding photos with me. To get it done in one go, I did tons of research—from outfits to locations to photographers. I often stayed up until two or three in the morning making plans, then forced myself to be energetic for class the next day. Because the wedding date was close, I even paid extra to skip the queue and rush the editing. But the wedding photoshoot I’d carefully selected was secretly given by Luke to someone else. The man who claimed he didn’t like taking photos used all his patience to accompany Ivy through five different settings, making me unable to tell whether he truly didn’t like taking photos or just didn’t like taking them with me. The car shook and stopped in the underground parking garage. I opened Ivy’s social media—sure enough, she’d posted another set of photos, thoughtfully covering Luke’s face. “Ding ding ding, the best birthday gift I received early this year is, of course, beautiful photos. Thanks to a certain someone!” Luke stood outside the car and took out his phone. The next second, his like appeared on Ivy’s post. I looked at that tiny red heart and couldn’t help but laugh. He never actively liked my posts. “We’re home. Why are you still sitting in the car?” Seeing I hadn’t moved, Luke knocked on the car window. I looked at him through the glass and suddenly spoke. “You already went to take photos with Ivy. Why not just take the wedding photos I booked? You two match pretty well anyway.” Luke’s expression stiffened for a moment, then he frowned. “Jennifer, what are you going crazy about?” “You changed my wedding photos and went to take birthday art photos with someone else, and now you’re asking me what I’m going crazy about?” “Luke, you’re the one who’s crazy!” I thought I could hold it in, but in the end I still shouted my grievances. I stared hard at Luke, wanting to hear an answer. He just clicked his tongue impatiently. “Ivy just started working. She has no one to celebrate her birthday with. As her mentor, of course I have a responsibility to take care of her.” “And it’s just wedding photos. If we can’t do it this time, we’ll do it next time. Why such a big reaction?” I looked at his casual expression, and all my anger dissipated. “Forget it.” I said, completing the second half of the sentence in my mind: We won’t need them anyway. Only then did Luke’s expression relax. He replied to another message on his phone. After I got out of the car, he got back in. “Alright, you go back first. Ivy’s birthday is tomorrow. She wants to treat the school teachers to dinner but can’t handle it alone. I’m going over tonight to help her prep.” I blinked. I’d originally wanted to talk to him tonight about canceling the wedding, but now it seemed unnecessary. I nodded and returned alone to our new house. I took out my suitcase, but looking at the room full of traces of my life, I didn’t take anything with me—only the large stock of pads and painkillers I’d accumulated. Then I called to cancel the wedding banquet hotel. The deposit was non-refundable. The money Luke had given me was all stored on one card, which I placed on the nightstand, not a cent missing. Finally, I took off the engagement ring and placed it on top of the card. Then I dragged my not-too-heavy suitcase and got in a car to the airport. Just before takeoff, I sent Luke a message. “Luke, let’s just forget about getting married. I’ve explained things to both our parents. Finally, I wish you find someone you truly like.” The message sent. I put my phone on airplane mode. Leaning back in my seat, I fell into a deep sleep. When I opened my eyes again, I’d arrived at my destination. I turned off airplane mode, and instantly hundreds of missed calls flooded in.

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Charlie and I grew up in the same zip code, our lives stitched together by shared fences and decades of family dinners. But that lifelong proximity didn’t breed love; it bred a quiet, simmering resentment in him. The marriage certificate we signed was nothing more than a prop. From the very beginning, our union lacked any legal teeth. I had already booked my flight out of Chicago, just waiting for the right moment to disappear. On our wedding night, his grad student, Maisie, practically poured half a bottle of bourbon down his throat. Fueled by the alcohol and her wide, tearful eyes, he stood before our guests and announced to the room that he didn’t love me. He never had. The next morning, when the hangover hit, Charlie brushed it off. He told me it was just the drink talking, that I shouldn’t take it to heart. He even defended Maisie, claiming she was young and impulsive—just a girl pulling a prank, devoid of any real malice. He stood with his back to me, staring out at the grey, empty morning streets of the city, his mind already miles away. He added, almost as an afterthought, that even if Maisie did have feelings for him, he wouldn’t let her ruin our marriage. He told me to relax. I stood behind him, silent, and quietly tucked my diamond band back into its velvet box. He had no idea that I was already gone. 1 On the first day of our “marriage,” Charlie was up at five. He dressed in his usual uniform: a charcoal-grey shirt, buttoned all the way to the throat. After his brief explanation about the wedding night, he grabbed his coat. “There’s an emergency at the hospital.” “Maisie can’t handle it on her own. I have to go help her.” In the past, I would have fought him. I would have demanded to know why he was the only attending physician on call, or why Maisie couldn’t ask anyone else except the man currently on his honeymoon. But today, I just nodded. “Okay,” I said. Charlie’s hand paused on the doorknob. He turned, looking like he wanted to say something more, but his phone cut through the silence. It was Maisie, her voice a frantic, sobbing mess on the other end. “Dr. Evans… the patient’s family is threatening to sue. I don’t know what to do…” And just like that, Charlie left without another word to me. I finished the last bite of my eggs, slow and methodical. This had happened a thousand times over the last few years. I was used to it. Ever since Maisie appeared in his life, Charlie had shifted. He used to lecture me if I ate a bag of chips, going on about nutrition and health. Now, he was the man who would hand-prep organic meals and drive them across the city to the hospital just because Maisie was pulling a double shift. He took her to street festivals. He took her to the movies. He smoothed over every academic and professional hurdle she faced, promising her a golden future. He even worried about her modest background, buying her everything from designer boots to basic necessities, treating her like a delicate project that only he could complete. On my twenty-fifth birthday, my parents had invited every power player in Chicago. They were ready to announce our engagement. But Charlie left the party because Maisie called with a “crisis.” He left me there to become the city’s favorite punchline. Last New Year’s Eve, at his family’s gala, Charlie lied to his parents. He told them I’d been in a car accident and that he needed to be by my side. In reality, he spent the night driving across three neighborhoods just to find a specific bakery that sold the croissants Maisie liked. I had fought with him so many times. I begged him for boundaries. Every time, he would just rub his temples and sigh. “Maisie is my student, Cherry. I’m just looking out for her.” “I gave you the marriage you wanted. What more do you want from me?” That one sentence always silenced me. Everyone in the city knew I’d been in love with Charlie for years. And everyone knew he’d spent those same years tolerating me. Our “merger” was a business arrangement that benefitted both families, but to Charlie, it was a charity he was performing for my sake. I thought I could keep lying to myself forever. Until the wedding. Two months of planning, all for Maisie to hand him a bottle of whiskey with red-rimmed eyes. “Just one last time,” she’d whispered. “Can’t you do this for me? How many more times in this life will you get to drink for me?” I saw Charlie’s eyes soften, a raw vulnerability I’d never seen directed at me. He drank. He didn’t hesitate. Maisie’s gaze grew even more tragic. “Dr. Evans, I just need to hear it. Are you marrying her because you love her, or because—” He didn’t let her finish. “I don’t love her,” he choked out. The room went bone-dry silent. I took a deep breath. For the first time in years, the weight in my chest actually lightened. Years of pining, years of chasing. I’d traded my dignity for a seat at a table where I wasn’t wanted. If he didn’t love me, fine. I would give him exactly what he wanted: his freedom. 2 That afternoon, I was at home packing my essentials and documents. Suddenly, a text from Charlie popped up. I wondered if his mother had gotten in his ear. Breaking years of habit, he actually asked me out to dinner at a bistro by the river. We’d grown up near that water. As a kid, I loved picnics by the riverbank. Charlie used to call me childish and refuse to go. But on my eighteenth birthday, he’d presented me with a deed. He’d bought a plot of land there and promised to build a restaurant for me one day. “Is this enough for a debutante?” he’d asked, a smug, boyish grin on his face. Every time he broke my heart, I went back to that memory. I told myself to wait a little longer. Wait until the memory didn’t hurt anymore. Then I could leave. When I didn’t reply, Charlie called. “Didn’t you see my text?” he asked. “I said let’s do dinner tonight.” I blinked, refusing him for the first time in my life. “I can’t. I already have plans.” There was a stunned silence on the other end. His voice came back stiff. “It’s our first day as a married couple. Who could you possibly have plans with?” I realized then that this was likely a chore assigned by his mother. She and my mom were best friends; she’d always treated me like a daughter. After the scene he’d caused at the wedding, she probably told him to get home and fix it. I gave a small, knowing smile. “Don’t worry, Charlie. I won’t tell your mom you went AWOL. You’re free to do whatever you want tonight. If she asks, I’ll cover for you.” This was the rhythm we’d established since last New Year’s. The night he lied about my “accident” to go see Maisie, he’d called me from his car. “If my mom calls about the crash, just say I’m with you and you’re fine. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” I had been so hurt then. “I begged you for weeks to spend New Year’s with me, and you said you had family obligations. But because Maisie wants a croissant, suddenly you’re available?” “You’re willing to lie to your family for her? You’re willing to joke about my health?” Charlie had just stayed silent for two seconds. Then he let out an annoyed huff. “Are you really doing this? It’s a tiny lie. Don’t be so dramatic.” “If it’s such a chore to be with me, let’s just call off the engagement. You’re exhausting to live with.” He knew my weak spots better than anyone. Since I was a girl, my only dream was him. So, I learned to lie for him. But this time, hearing my “understanding” response, Charlie sounded even angrier. “I’m actually trying to take you to dinner. This isn’t a cover story.” “I already ordered. Everything you like. Consider it an apology for Maisie’s behavior.” I looked at my calendar. “Sorry. I really don’t have the time.” “Just tell me how much the tab is, and I’ll Venmo you.” Charlie’s voice went low, dangerous. “You’re serious?” “Fine. Starve for all I care. I’ll take Maisie.” He didn’t hang up immediately, as if waiting for me to crack. I just nodded to the empty room. “Perfect. I have a bottle of wine held at that restaurant under my name. You guys should have it.” The line went dead. 3 I suppose his ego was bruised, because Charlie didn’t come home for a week. I didn’t care. I didn’t ask where he was. I spent the week shipping my belongings to a new apartment I’d leased in Savannah. Then, I went to my studio. I needed to hand over the reins of my business before I left. I didn’t expect to see a familiar face at the entrance. Maisie was there, clutching a birdcage with a dead parakeet inside, screaming at my staff. “Isn’t this a boutique funeral home? Aren’t you supposed to be ‘artists of the afterlife’?” “My bird died! Why won’t you prepare him for a service?” Becca, my assistant, was trying to be patient. “Ma’am, we specialize in human services. We aren’t equipped for taxidermy or avian preservation. You should really contact a specialist…” Before Becca could finish, Maisie slapped her. Hard. “Specialist? He was my family! He’s gone, and you’re turning me away because you think I can’t pay?” She burst into hysterical tears. “I don’t understand why the world is so cruel to me! The man I love is married to someone else, and now my bird is gone, and I’m being humiliated just trying to give him a dignified burial! What did I do wrong?” Becca had been with me since she graduated college. She wasn’t just an employee; she was like a little sister. Seeing her get hit made my blood boil. I started toward them, ready to throw Maisie out, but someone beat me to her. Charlie swept in, pulling Maisie into his arms. “Don’t cry,” he whispered, his face etched with genuine pain. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it. I can solve anything for you.” He glared at the studio. “If this place makes you unhappy, I’ll see to it that they close their doors.” I stepped forward, putting Becca behind me. I looked at Charlie and smiled. “You want to shut me down, Charlie? Don’t bother with the legal drama. Just write me a check for five million dollars. I’ll transfer the deed to you, along with the eight-year lease and every piece of furniture in here. You can let Maisie smash the place to bits for all I care.” “But,” I said, my voice turning cold, “before that, she owes my employee an apology.” Charlie looked stunned. He looked at me, then up at the sign above the door. “This place… this mortuary… it’s yours?” I laughed softly. Yeah, it was mine. Charlie and I had known each other since birth. I’d shared every step of my life with him. After graduation, I’d told him a thousand times about what I wanted to do. My goals, my vision for a modern, empathetic funeral service. I shared every step of the planning phase. On opening day, I’d asked him to celebrate with me. But Charlie was busy that day because Maisie had cramps. He’d sent me a generic “Congrats” text with a small wire transfer and never mentioned it again. My studio had been open for four years. It was the top-rated boutique service in Chicago. And he had no idea I was the owner. He promised to protect Maisie’s career while having zero clue that I even had one. Charlie’s expression shifted to something defensive. “It doesn’t matter who owns it. You shouldn’t treat customers this way.” “Maisie is just a kid. She’s grieving. Why are you being so hard on her?” He looked at me with suspicion, as if I were orchestrating a petty revenge plot because I was jealous of her. “Hard on her?” I asked. “Your ‘kid’ brought a dead bird into a human funeral home, and when my assistant politely explained our policy, she was assaulted. Who’s being hard on who?” “Charlie, protect your little muse all you want, but try to be logical.” “Maisie apologizes to Becca today, or I call the police. I have the security footage and the medical report for the bruising. I will press charges.” I stood my ground. Charlie’s face turned a shade of livid I’d never seen. “What did you just call me? Charlie? Since when did we stop being—” Maisie tugged on his sleeve, interrupting him. “It’s okay, Dr. Evans,” she whimpered. “I deserve it. I upset her at the wedding. It’s only fair she gets her revenge now.” She looked so small, so fragile. It worked. Charlie’s protectiveness flared into a rage. He stepped forward and, before I could react, he slapped me. He did it to even the score for her. “I hit you. So what?” he snapped, his voice icy. “Your professional standards are a joke. You want to sue? Go ahead. Name me in the suit too. Let’s see how a judge handles it.” It hurt. My cheek burned, but my mind was suddenly, perfectly clear. I realized in that moment that I would never think about that afternoon by the river ever again. 4 After that confrontation, the internet exploded. Within twenty-four hours, smear campaigns against my studio were everywhere. Fake reviews, ugly rumors—the works. A GIF of Charlie slapping me started circulating among the Chicago elite. Whenever I walked into a room, people gave me that half-smirk, half-pitying look. I didn’t fight it. I closed the studio, paid my staff three months’ severance, and wired Becca an extra fifty thousand dollars. Tomorrow was the day I’d leave for Savannah. Tonight, Charlie unexpectedly showed up at the house. He walked in and stopped short. He looked around at the boxes. “Why is it so empty in here?” “Where’s the wedding portrait?” I didn’t look up from my laptop. “In the trash. I left the nails in the wall, though, in case you want to hang something else.” Charlie’s voice was tight. “That’s not what I meant.” “Your face…” He stepped closer, reaching out to touch my cheek. I flinched, pulling away instinctively. “It’s fine. Just a scratch.” He looked uncomfortable. “I lost my temper that day. But you weren’t blameless either.” “I’ve told you a hundred times, Maisie is my student. She’s young, she’s from a poor family, and I’m just helping her. There’s nothing else to it. You keep picking fights with her—you’re just asking for trouble.” “Okay,” I said. “It won’t happen again.” He seemed thrown by my compliance. He stood there for a long time before reaching for my hand. “Anyway, I need to borrow your wedding ring for a bit.” “Maisie’s been down lately. She said she loved the design of your band, and I want to get one made exactly like it for her.” He reached for my left hand, only to find my ring finger bare. He froze. “Where is it?” I got up, went to the dressing room, and brought out the small velvet box. “Here. Take it.” “Check the size. If her fingers are about the same as mine, she can just have this one.” “Oh, wait. I forgot. You don’t like giving her second-hand things. Just put it back in the cabinet when you’re done looking at it.” Charlie stared at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. He didn’t address the ring. Instead, he asked, “You used to be so obsessed with that ring.” “Why aren’t you wearing it?” I smiled. Yeah, I was obsessed. I’d traveled to three different countries to find the right stones. My desk had been buried under design sketches for months. I’d texted him every day, asking for his opinion. He never replied. When I finally bought them, I had to beg him for weeks just to put his on. To this day, he didn’t even know what my ring looked like. He had to borrow the original just to copy it for another woman. I didn’t say anything. Charlie set the box down, the silence stretching between us. “We’ll talk about the ring later. Come back to my parents’ place for dinner tonight.” “My mom misses you.” I closed my laptop. “Sorry. I don’t have time.” “I have a flight to catch.”

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The digital clock on the dashboard flickered: 2:47 AM. My son, Toby, was burning up, his small body trembling against mine as I sprinted toward the Emergency Room entrance. The hospital was a vacuum of fluorescent lights and the smell of antiseptic. As the nurse drew his blood, Toby’s screams tore through the sterile air, raw and jagged. The nurse, a woman with kind eyes, leaned in close, whispering that if he was a brave boy, Mommy would get him a special surprise afterward. Toby’s tear-filled eyes instantly cleared. He tugged at the hem of my sweater, his voice small but insistent. “Can I have the Lego Mars Rover? The one Daddy got for my brother?” The words hit me like a physical blow. I felt the gaze of the other parents in the waiting room—heavy, pitying, or perhaps just curious. My heart did a slow, painful roll in my chest. “Toby, honey,” I whispered, kneeling so I was eye-level with him once his fever had finally begun to break. “Who is this brother you’re talking about?” He looked at me with that terrifyingly pure innocence only a three-year-old possesses. “The brother who calls Daddy ‘Daddy,’ Mom. You know. My brother.” When my husband, Daniel, finally rushed into the hospital at dawn, his face was a mask of frantic concern. I didn’t greet him. I simply repeated Toby’s words, syllable for syllable, watching his expression. His features didn’t shatter; they shifted. A subtle recalibration. “He’s just confused, Elena,” Daniel said, his voice smooth as polished stone. “He must have seen me with my boss’s kid. We were… helping them move some stuff. You know how kids are. They project.” The next morning, I didn’t go to work. Instead, I grabbed a gift-wrapped Lego set—the exact one Toby had mentioned—and drove straight to the address of Daniel’s “boss.” 1 The woman who opened the door was wrapped in a charcoal-grey silk robe that probably cost more than my monthly mortgage. Her makeup was impeccable, even for a Tuesday morning, and her eyes raked over me with a cold, dismissive edge. “Can I help you?” Her tone was clipped, her hand firmly on the doorframe. “Hi. I’m Elena, Daniel’s wife.” I held up the gift bag like a shield. “I heard your son loves Legos. I wanted to drop this off for him.” Her eyebrows arched—a slow, calculated movement. She stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter. “The kids are out with their grandmother at the park. Sit down, if you like.” She handed me a glass of water, her movements languid and bored. “How did you get this address? Did Daniel give it to you?” I took a sip, the cold water doing nothing to soothe the fire in my throat. “Daniel asked me to drop off some local preserves here a few months ago for the holidays. I have a good memory for directions.” She nodded vaguely. “Right. Those preserves were lovely. Very… rustic.” I scanned the living room while she spoke. It was a cathedral of high-end minimalism, but the floor told a different story. A colorful play mat was strewn with toys—the kind of expensive, sensory-development gear you see in upscale boutiques. In the corner, a pile of discarded toys sat gathering dust. Right on top was the Lego Mars Rover Toby had cried for. Before we could exchange another word, the front door burst open. Daniel stood there, breathless, his face pale and then instantly flushed with rage. He didn’t look at the woman in the silk robe. He looked straight at me. “I told you yesterday Toby was talking nonsense. Do you really trust me that little, Elena? That you’d stalk my colleagues?” The air in the room turned brittle. I took a slow breath and set the water glass down with a deliberate click. “Toby kept asking for this specific set. I just wanted to see it in person so I wouldn’t buy the wrong model. And I figured I’d bring a ‘thank you’ gift to your manager for looking after you at the firm.” I turned my gaze to the woman. “I just didn’t realize your manager was so… striking. And so capable.” Daniel’s jaw tightened. He looked like a man standing on a collapsing bridge. “If Toby wants something, you tell me. I’ll buy it. You don’t just show up unannounced at Vicky’s house. It’s unprofessional. It’s embarrassing.” Vicky let out a soft, sharp laugh. “I understand, Elena. Mothers get so… protective. It’s a very primal thing.” She gestured carelessly toward the corner. “Honestly, my son is already bored with that Lego set Daniel brought over. It’s just taking up space. If you don’t mind hand-me-downs, feel free to take it. It wasn’t exactly cheap, after all.” I stood up, my spine rigid. “That won’t be necessary. If it’s that easy to get bored of, then it’s just expensive trash, isn’t it?” I didn’t wait for them to process the sting in my words. “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go, Daniel.” As I walked toward the door, I didn’t acknowledge the dark navy blazer draped over the dining chair. I knew that blazer. I knew the slightly crooked button on the cuff because I was the one who had sewn it back on two weeks ago while Toby napped. Daniel followed me out, his voice a frantic whisper as we reached the driveway. “Elena, wait. The Lego… I bought it on behalf of the whole team. It was a group gift. I’d forgotten about it. I’ll buy Toby the newest version tonight, I promise.” I cut him off, my voice devoid of emotion. “You don’t need to explain, Daniel. Being a single mom in a high-pressure job like Vicky’s must be hard. It’s only natural for a supportive subordinate like you to go the extra mile.” Daniel’s shoulders dropped. He actually looked relieved. “Thank God. I thought you were going to make a scene. I’ll pick up the toy on my way home, okay? I love you.” As soon as his car pulled out of the driveway, I took out my phone and sent a detailed list of every observation to my lawyer. That afternoon, when I picked Toby up from daycare, I ran my hand through his soft curls. “Toby, guess what? Daddy’s bringing home the newest Lego robot tonight.” Toby practically vibrated with excitement. “Yay! Just like my brother!” My chest felt hollow. “Toby, why didn’t you tell Mommy you wanted that toy before?” He frowned, his little voice turning somber. “Grandma said Daddy works very, very hard for our money. She said one toy is enough. She said the other boy is smaller, so I have to share. She said I should wait until he’s finished playing with his things, and then I can have them.” 2 My heart didn’t just break; it curdled. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and pinched his cheek gently. “When did you see Grandma and the other boy, Toby?” “Daddy took me for cake and ice cream. Grandma was there, and the boy, and the lady.” He looked up at me, his eyes wide. “The ice cream was so good. Daddy said it was our ‘Little Secret.’ He said if I told you, I wouldn’t get ice cream anymore. But I only had three bites, Mommy. Can I have ice cream tomorrow?” The pieces of the puzzle were jagged, but they were finally fitting together. My three-year-old was being coached to lie to me by his own father and grandmother. “Of course, baby,” I whispered. “Mommy will buy you whatever you want.” Daniel came home early that night, acting the part of the perfect father. He brought the Lego set. He spent an hour in the kitchen making shrimp scampi—my favorite. He sat on the floor and played “dinosaur” with Toby, laughing as if he hadn’t spent the last three years building a second life. I watched them from the kitchen doorway, a cold, hard knot forming in my stomach. He had spent so many nights “at the office,” so many weekends “at conferences.” I had almost forgotten what we looked like as a family. As I tucked Toby into bed, he rubbed his face against my hand. “Mommy, Daddy played hide-and-seek today. I’m so happy.” “Aren’t you happy when Mommy plays with you?” He tilted his head. “Yeah, but Daddy is strong. He gives me ‘Sky-Highs.’ He gives the other boy ‘Sky-Highs’ too, but he hasn’t done it for me in a long time. He promised he’d do it every day now. I want us to be together forever.” My mind flashed back to Vicky’s smug expression—the way she’d bragged about how “the father” of her child would stay up late just to take them to the park. The room felt like it was closing in. Toby drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face, probably dreaming of being tossed into the air. When Daniel tried to pull me close in bed later that night, I went stiff. “I’m tired, Dan. It’s been a long day with Toby.” He didn’t push. He just yawned and was asleep within minutes. The sound of his rhythmic snoring, once a comfort, now sounded like a serrated blade against my nerves. I stared into the darkness. I hadn’t asked him how he knew the passcode to Vicky’s front door. I hadn’t pointed out that the men’s slippers by her mat were exactly his size. I was going to destroy him. I wanted him to lose everything—his career, his reputation, his pride. But then I looked at the monitor on the nightstand, showing Toby’s peaceful face. Toby was only three. He needed a father. He loved this version of Daniel. My phone vibrated. A message from my lawyer. “Found the birth registry for Vicky’s son. The father is listed as Daniel Miller. The child is three years old. He’s been cared for by Daniel’s parents since birth. His birth date is…” My hands shook so violently I nearly dropped the phone. The boy’s birthday was only two days after Toby’s. Everything clicked. That was why my in-laws always “confused” Toby’s birthday, sending cards two days early. That was why they were always “too sick” or “too busy” to help me with Toby. They weren’t busy. They were just with their other family. The one they had actually chosen. 3 For the next two weeks, I became an actress. I played the role of the unsuspecting wife while I worked with my lawyer to gather every scrap of evidence—bank statements, travel records, the second lease. I was the primary breadwinner for the first five years of our marriage, and though Daniel made more now, I had worked too hard to let him walk away with my stability. When Daniel announced another “business trip,” I didn’t question him. I even packed his bag, looking right past a pair of lace underwear that didn’t belong to me. But the other side was getting restless. The late-night “emergency” calls to Daniel increased. He would give me the same tired excuses, and I would just kiss his cheek and tell him to be careful. He became more attentive at home, fueled by a cocktail of guilt and the thrill of the double life. One Tuesday, I left work early to surprise Toby at his preschool. The teacher’s words felt like a bucket of ice water. “Oh, Elena, Toby’s grandmother picked him up an hour ago. Didn’t Daniel tell you?” My in-laws never picked up Toby. They barely acknowledged his existence. I called Daniel. Straight to voicemail. I called his parents. No answer. My heart hammered against my ribs. I called my lawyer, my voice cracking. “They took him. They took my son.” “Calm down,” my lawyer said. “Think. Where would they take him? This is Vicky’s play. She’s forcing a confrontation.” I didn’t think. I just drove. I tore through the streets until I reached Vicky’s townhouse. Even before I reached the porch, I heard it. The sound of Toby sobbing—a high-pitched, hysterical wail that sliced right through my soul. I pounded on the door like a madwoman. “Vicky! Open this door! If you touch my son, I swear to God I will kill you!” The door swung open, and I shoved my way inside. What I saw made my blood turn to ice. My mother-in-law was standing over Toby, hitting his small, red hands with a plastic truck. “Stop grabbing your brother’s things! Stop being so selfish!” she barked. “I told you to let Jack play with it! Have you no manners?” Toby stood there, shaking, his face a mask of terror. “I’m sorry, Grandma… it hurts. Mommy… I want Mommy…” Vicky was sitting on the sofa, holding her own son, watching the scene with the cold detachment of someone watching a boring documentary. I lunged forward, snatching Toby into my arms. “Don’t you touch him!” “Mommy… Mommy, it hurts…” Toby sobbed into my neck, holding out his swollen, red hands. My mother-in-law had the audacity to look indignant. “Elena? What are you doing here? Daniel isn’t even off work yet.” “You hit him,” I hissed, my voice trembling with a rage so pure it felt like fire. “He was being difficult,” she said, smoothing her skirt. “He needs discipline. Jack is much more well-behaved. They’re brothers, Elena. They need to learn to share.” “You knew,” I whispered, looking at her. “You’ve known the whole time.” Vicky stood up, her smile razor-thin. “Of course she knew. We’re a family, Elena. It’s time you stopped playing house and realized you’re the outsider here. Just give Daniel the divorce and let us be.” The door opened behind me. Daniel walked in, carrying a bag of groceries. “Hey, I couldn’t find the cake Vicky liked—” He stopped dead.

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My younger brother’s kidneys were failing. I was the only match. I was the only one who could save him. But I was waiting for him to die. Even though, to the outside world, he had spent his entire life playing my fierce protector. Right before they wheeled Mason into the operating room, the pre-op nurse looked at my mother. “She hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since midnight, right?” My mother, Jodie, was just starting to shake her head when I cut in, my voice bright and clear. “I ate.” Nurse Higgins—a hardened woman who had gone to high school with my mother—lost all professional restraint and slapped me hard across the face. Jodie immediately grabbed the nurse’s arm, not to defend me, but to plead. “Don’t listen to her, Martha! She’s been a pathological liar since she was in diapers. She’s just trying to cause trouble!” The waiting room, packed with my aunts and extended family, murmured in collective disgust. “Cora has poison in her veins,” one of them whispered loudly. “She just doesn’t want to save her brother.” 1 I rubbed my stinging cheek, the heat radiating under my skin. I tilted my head, smiling up at my mother, my eyes curving into crescents. “Mom, did you forget? You hand-fed me a bag of candy yourself this morning.” The desperate defense died in Jodie’s throat. Her face went violently pale, then mottled with a sickly green. Panic hijacked her features as she clawed at the nurse’s scrubs, her voice breaking into a sob. “Martha, please, it was just soft candy! It’s practically sugar, it shouldn’t even count! My boy is in there waiting for his life. He can’t wait anymore…” Then, she whipped her head toward me. The panic vanished, replaced by a venom so pure it could have burned through steel. “Cora, you lying bitch! You threatened me! You said if I didn’t give you the candy, you wouldn’t donate your kidney…” I held my hands up, palms out, the very picture of helpless innocence. “Mom, listen to yourself. I’m just your daughter. No matter how rebellious I am, I’d never use my brother’s life as leverage. But if your nerves have gotten the better of you, and it makes you feel better to pin this on me… fine. I’ll take the blame.” The waiting room erupted, but this time, the crosshairs shifted to my mother. “Jodie, what the hell is wrong with you?” Aunt Patty barked. “You know damn well she can’t eat before surgery. Why would you give her candy?” “We’re talking about a life-or-death transplant, Jodie! How could you be so stupid?” “Great. Now the surgery is delayed, and poor Mason has to suffer even longer.” I stood quietly near the wall, letting the chaos wash over me. The corners of my mouth crept up, millimeter by millimeter. A month ago, Mason was diagnosed with end-stage renal disease. He spent his days curled into a tight, agonizing ball on his bed, howling as if he were being torn apart from the inside. That day, my appetite was spectacular. I asked for seconds at dinner. The entire family had gotten tested. Out of everyone, I was the only viable match. For the past thirty days, I had become the god of this house. Whatever I wanted, Jodie provided, too terrified to even knit her brows in protest. My first order of business? I hit Mason. Just walked right up and slapped him. Then, I made them give me cash. I went to the state fair. I rode the carousel, screamed at the top of my lungs on the rollercoaster, and when the Ferris wheel reached its absolute highest point, I looked down at the earth and cursed my entire bloodline to rot in hell. I bought vintage dresses. I bought video game consoles. Thud. A violent impact shattered my reverie. Jodie launched herself at me like a feral animal. Her fingers tangled in my hair, gripping hard, and she slammed the back of my skull against the cinderblock wall of the hospital corridor. “You lying little freak! I’ll kill you for tricking me! I’ll kill you for hurting your brother!” The scalp-tearing pain spiked through my head. The temperature in my eyes dropped to absolute zero. Without a second of hesitation, I brought my knee up and kicked her squarely in the stomach. Jodie shrieked, stumbling backward until she hit the linoleum floor, folding in on herself. Aunt Patty rushed to haul her up, her pinched, bitter face snapping toward me. The onslaught of abuse was deafening. “You psycho! Striking your own mother? Have you no human decency?” “I don’t know how our family produced such a cold-blooded monster. You’re a disgrace!” “She’s doing this on purpose. She wants Mason to die. She’s rotten right down to the marrow!” “Always stealing, always lying since she was a kid! Now she’s just a full-blown menace!” 2 I calmly picked up a green apple from the nurses’ station fruit bowl, took a crisp bite, and smiled at the gaggle of outraged women. “Apologize to me right now. Or the kidney stays with me.” Aunt Patty opened her mouth to scream at me, but Jodie lunged forward and slapped a hand over her sister’s mouth. “Patty, shut up! Please!” Jodie turned back to me, her spine bending in an immediate, pathetic display of subservience. “Cora, baby, Mom is so sorry. Don’t let yourself get worked up. It’s bad for your health.” An orderly was wheeling Mason back down the hall. He caught the tail end of the scene and let out a long, heavy sigh of disgust. I didn’t care. The gossip had already spread through the entire hospital wing over the last few days: The girl in Room 101, Cora, is an absolute terror to her poor parents and sick brother. On my first day admitted, I threw a tantrum demanding a private suite. My father had fallen to his knees, begging me, explaining that they needed every dime for Mason’s post-op care. I refused to listen. I kicked his shin and called him a pathetic, useless failure of a man. When Mason was writhing in agony on his bed, I stood over him, told him he deserved it, and suggested he just hurry up and die. When Jodie brought me hot coffee, I complained it was burning my tongue. I slapped the cup out of her hands, the scalding liquid splattering everywhere. “Are you trying to burn me alive, you crazy old bat?” I had screamed. Everyone whispered when I walked by. They called me a sociopath. Cold-blooded. Malicious. Before the nurse left my room that night, she pointed a stern finger at my mother. “Surgery is rescheduled for tomorrow morning. Do not give her anything to eat.” She stopped at the door, turning back with a heavy glare. “Not even a sip of water. Understood?” 3 The next morning, right outside the OR doors, the surgical nurse asked the mandatory question: “No food or water since midnight?” Jodie shook her head violently, her eyes wide with desperate sincerity. “None. I sat beside her bed for twelve hours straight. Not a single drop.” The nurse let out a subtle sigh of relief. I looked at the ceiling and said, in an airy, conversational tone, “I drank a carton of milk.” The nurse’s face instantly darkened. Jodie waved her hands frantically, her voice pitching into hysteria. “Doc, please! Don’t listen to her! I swear on my life I didn’t let her have anything! She’s making it up because she doesn’t want to save her brother!” The nurse hesitated, glancing between us. Aunt Patty immediately jumped in, her voice dripping with toxic conviction. “The girl was born bad! When she was five, she set the woods on fire and tried to blame her baby brother. At seven, she stole candy from the corner store and said he did it. At nine, she mugged a kid for lunch money and framed him again. She’s a stray dog you just can’t train.” Jodie’s eyes were bloodshot. She grabbed my hand, squeezing until my knuckles popped. “Cora, tell them the truth! Your brother is lying in there, his life is fading…” “I am telling the truth.” I pulled my hand out of her grip and looked past her shoulders, through the glass doors of the prep room, where Mason lay. He looked terrifyingly pale, fragile as wet paper. I let out a soft, breathy laugh. “If he dies from the pain, it’s just karma.” From his gurney, Mason managed a weak, saintly smile. His voice was a reedy whisper. “If she doesn’t want to do it, it’s okay. Mom, stop forcing her.” 4 The moment the words left his mouth, Mason’s back arched off the mattress. He curled into a tight ball, letting out a raw, guttural scream. “Mom… it hurts…” Jodie lunged through the doors, throwing her arms around him, shaking uncontrollably as she wept. She whipped her head back to glare at me. “Cora! Just tell them the goddamn truth!” She turned a pleading, terrified gaze back to the nurse. “She lies! She always lies! You can’t trust a word she says!” The nurse looked profoundly conflicted. She stepped closer to me, her voice adopting that soft, patronizing tone adults use with troubled children. “Cora, look at me. Did you really drink the milk? I believe there’s a good girl in there somewhere.” I gave her a bright, beaming smile. “You guys have blood tests, right? Run my labs. Why ask me?” Aunt Patty lost her mind. She raised her hand, aiming a vicious strike at my face. “Cora! Do you have any idea what your little lie is costing us? Your brother has to suffer for another two hours! The extra blood work is going to cost hundreds of dollars, and we are already completely broke!” I didn’t flinch. I raised my own hand and slapped her across the face so hard the crack echoed down the corridor. My voice was glacial. “It’s not my pain. And if you’re broke, then he can just die.” 5 Aunt Patty cradled her stinging cheek, her eyes blown wide in sheer disbelief. She couldn’t process that I had actually struck her back. A second later, she lunged at me like a banshee, burying both hands in my hair and yanking backward with all her strength. “You little bitch! You dare touch me? I’m going to beat the living hell out of you today!” The searing pain in my scalp acted like a match dropped in a pool of gasoline. It ignited a fire I had been suffocating for a decade. I had been waiting for the chance to tear her apart. I reached back, dug my nails into her wrists, and twisted hard. I brought my boots down on her shins, kicking, biting, screaming as we crashed against the waiting room chairs. Her shrill curses rang in my ears. But inside my head, a rolodex of old debts was flipping rapidly. Since I was a toddler, she had pointed her bony finger at my face, calling me a “useless mouth to feed,” reminding me daily that as a girl, my only purpose was to be a burden until I was married off. It was Aunt Patty who had once convinced my father to leave me deep in the Appalachian woods during a winter freeze, hoping I’d get lost. It was Jodie, back when she still had a sliver of maternal instinct, who had run through the dark with a flashlight to find me. It was Aunt Patty’s daughter who stole my toys. When I had gently pushed her away, Aunt Patty had stormed over and delivered a closed-fist backhand to my left ear. I haven’t been able to hear properly out of that ear since. Every Thanksgiving, every Christmas, she would whisper poison in my father’s ear, insisting that girls didn’t belong at the main dining table because I’d “eventually belong to another man’s family anyway.” So I spent every holiday sitting on a bucket in the cramped kitchen, chewing on cold bread, listening to the clinking of their silverware. They had forgotten all of it. But I remembered. Every single detail was calcified in my bones. “Let go of me, you psycho!” I screamed. “You cursed, ungrateful wretch!” she spat back. Ultimately, I was an eighteen-year-old girl and she was a heavy-set adult. In the chaotic struggle, she shoved me violently. I flew backward, the side of my head cracking hard against the sharp metal edge of a medical cart. Warm blood instantly welled up, sliding down my temple. 6 The doors to the waiting area swung open violently. My father, Rick, had arrived. I hadn’t seen him in a month, but he looked like he had aged fifteen years. His greying hair was wild, his eyes sunken into dark, bruised sockets. He reeked of stale cigarettes and absolute exhaustion. He crossed the room in three long strides, stopping right in front of me. His voice was terrifyingly soft, laced with desperate pleading. “Cora… tell your dad the truth. Did you drink the milk?” My body was shaking violently, adrenaline and trauma vibrating through every muscle. But I lifted my chin, staring him dead in the eye. “I drank it.” Smack. Rick’s heavy calloused hand collided with my jaw. “Is this the time for your sick games?!” he roared, his eyes bloodshot. “When you lied as a kid, I told myself you were just acting out. But now? Your brother is in there dying, waiting for you to save his life!” He stared at me, his chest heaving, his voice trembling. “I am going to ask you one more time. Did. You. Drink. It.” I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. I slowly raised my head, gathered the spit and blood pooling on my tongue, and spat it directly into his face. “I drank it. What the hell are you gonna do about it?” Rick shook with a rage so profound it looked like a seizure. He raised his fist again. Two orderlies and the nurse rushed forward, grabbing his arms. “Hey! Back off! You can’t do that here!” Restrained by the staff, this tall, hardened man suddenly broke. He collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands, sobbing loudly in the middle of the hospital. “I don’t want to hit her!” he cried out to the strangers holding him. “But look at what she’s doing! Look at her!” “When have we ever mistreated her? She was our little girl! But she’s always hated Mason. And now she wants to stand by and watch him die…” Still crying, he looked up at me from the floor. “When you wanted that expensive new backpack, I worked double shifts at the mill to buy it for you. When you wanted those fancy out-of-season strawberries, the rest of us didn’t touch a single one. You ate the whole carton until you were sick. When you wanted name-brand sneakers, your mother worked overtime at the diner until she collapsed. We loved you so much. How did your heart turn to stone?” I pressed a hand against my throbbing, burning cheek. And then I laughed. It started soft, then grew into a sharp, manic sound that echoed down the halls. “Loved me?” “You buy me a couple of cheap material things to save face, and you call that love?” “Who the hell wants it!” 7 The heavy doors pushed open quietly. Ms. Gallagher, my high school homeroom teacher, stepped into the corridor. She walked quickly to my side, her eyes immediately locking onto the blood trickling down my forehead. Her brow furrowed, and her voice was a soothing balm. “Cora, honey… does it hurt?” Rick scrambled up from the floor, throwing himself toward her like a drowning man grabbing a life preserver. “Ms. Gallagher! Thank God you’re here. Please, talk some sense into her! We haven’t been able to do the surgery because she keeps sabotaging it! Yesterday she tricked her mother into feeding her candy, and today she’s lying about drinking milk!” “Please, she listens to you. Make her see reason!” Ms. Gallagher froze, taking in the chaotic scene. She turned to look at me, her eyes brimming with a profound, aching sadness. “Cora,” she said softly. “Tell me the truth. Did you drink the milk?” I lowered my gaze, letting my lashes hide the sudden prickle of tears burning in my eyes. My voice cracked. “Are you going to force me too, Ms. Gallagher?” She hesitated. She reached out, her hand hovering just inches from my shoulder, before she slowly pulled it back. The sorrow in her eyes deepened. In a fraction of a second, a flood of memories rushed into my mind. The quiet, uncelebrated kindnesses she had offered me over the years: The thick wool sweater she quietly slipped into my locker when my lips were turning blue in the winter. The days I was starving, surviving on tap water, when she casually left her staff lunch card on my desk. When the entire town labeled me a pathological liar and ostracized me, she was the only adult who stood in front of the classroom and said, “I believe her.” My chest felt like it was being crushed in a vise. A sour ache climbed up my throat. I bit down hard on my lower lip, forcing the tears back, and finally whispered: “I lied. I didn’t drink the milk.” “Ha! You hear that?!” Aunt Patty barked a triumphant, cruel laugh. “I told you she’s a liar! She just doesn’t want to save him! She’s a heartless little bitch!” Jodie surged forward, her fingers digging painfully into my biceps as she wailed. “Cora! He’s your flesh and blood! How can you be so cruel?!” Ms. Gallagher gently reached out and smoothed a piece of blood-matted hair from my face. “I knew it,” she said tenderly. “I knew you were a good…” I cut her off. “I’m still not doing it.” I reached into the deep pocket of my jacket and pulled out a bottle of water I had hidden there all morning. While they all watched in paralyzed silence, I unscrewed the cap and took a massive, undeniable gulp. I let the plastic bottle drop to the floor. Water spilled over the linoleum. I slowly raised my arm, pointing a steady finger straight through the glass at the boy writhing on the bed. His hospital gown was soaked in cold sweat, his groans barely audible through the door. “I want him to die.”

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When I opened my eyes again, the world was no longer white, sterile, and smelling of industrial bleach. I was back in my first year of grad school. In the dim light of the stairwell, Beth was hunched over, her eyes rimmed with red, her knuckles white as she gripped a tuition past-due notice. In my first life, I had found her here, sobbing because she couldn’t afford the semester. I had handed over five thousand dollars—every cent I’d clawed together from late-night tutoring and skipping meals. She had clung to me then, her voice thick with tears, swearing I was the most important person in her life. But by graduation, my senior thesis data had vanished into thin air. A week later, Beth published a paper with the exact same findings, claiming lead authorship. She didn’t stop there—she married our department head, Dr. Whitaker. When I confronted her, she simply leaned into his arm, looked at me with pity, and told the board I was “unstable.” She said I had “persecutory delusions.” That was how they dragged me to the psychiatric ward. For three years, I lived in a fog of sedatives, my veins hardening from the injections, until I finally died in a bed that wasn’t mine. 1 Beth sat on the concrete step, her shoulders shaking with rhythmic sobs. The notice was a crumpled ball in her hand, then smoothed out, then crushed again. I stood over her, the five thousand dollars I’d just withdrawn from the bank heavy in my pocket. In my last life, I didn’t hesitate. I’d pressed the cash into her palms like a lifeline. This life, I just watched her cry. All I could see was that hospital bed. The peeling white ceiling. The needle marks mapping my forearms. I could still feel the phantom chill of the sedatives turning my blood into lead. Beth looked up, tears snagged in her lashes, her lip trembling. “Julie, I’m tapped out. My mom’s medical bills… the house… we just don’t have it. If I don’t pay this by Friday, I’m out of the program. I’ll have to go back home.” I knelt down, but I only pulled one thousand dollars from my pocket. I laid the bills across her knee. Beth froze. She looked at the stack, then at me. “Take this for now,” I said, my voice steady. “For the rest, I’ll help you talk to the department. There are work-study positions available. If you apply, you won’t have to pay it all back at once, and you won’t owe me nearly as much.” Beth stared at the money. She didn’t move. “Is… is this it?” “One thousand is a lot, Beth. I make fifteen an hour tutoring. It took me months to save this.” I pulled a sheet of paper and a pen from my bag. “Write me a promissory note. It’s not that I don’t trust you—it’s just a habit I’m trying to start. For my own records.” Beth took the pen. Her fingers hitched for a fraction of a second. Then she smiled. It was a smile I knew too well—the corners of her mouth went up, but her eyes remained cold and flat. “Right. Of course. You’re being so sweet.” She scribbled the note and handed it back. I folded it carefully and tucked it into the hidden inner pocket of my backpack. On the walk back to the dorms, she looped her arm through mine. Her voice was still watery. “Julie, thank you. Seriously. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me. You’re my sister.” “Mhm,” I murmured. You said that last time, too, I thought. Right before you locked me in a cage. I didn’t sleep that night. Once Beth’s breathing turned heavy and even, I crawled out of bed and opened my laptop. I exported every single byte of my experimental data. One copy to a private cloud. One copy to an encrypted Dropbox. One copy in a password-protected zip file sent to a burner email address. Finally, I sent a summary to my primary email with the subject: Thesis Progress Backup – Oct 17. Three locations. Three different, complex passwords. I watched the “Upload Complete” checkmark flicker on the screen and shut the laptop. Outside, the hallway light was buzzing, flickering in the dark. Beth rolled over in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent. The next morning at the lab meeting, our advisor, Dr. Whitaker, called for progress reports. He was forty-one, perpetually single, wore gold-rimmed glasses, and spoke with a slow, measured condescension that people mistook for wisdom. In my first life, I thought he was a visionary. Now I knew the truth: he was a weak man, easily swayed by a woman who knew how to play the victim. When it was Beth’s turn, she stood up. Her voice was thin. She got two sentences in before her voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Whitaker. I’ve had some… family emergencies. My progress is a bit behind where I wanted it to be.” Whitaker pushed his glasses up his nose, his tone softening instantly. “It’s alright, Beth. If you’re struggling, talk to me. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world alone.” Beth nodded, dabbing at her eyes as she sat down. The other PhD candidates in the room shifted, their expressions full of easy sympathy. Then it was my turn. I flipped the slide to the third page and began detailing the data I’d pulled that week. Whitaker cut me off halfway through. “What’s the basis for this variable? Did you check the literature?” “Dr. Thompson’s 2019 paper, and the MIT study from last spring—” “Are you sure? I recall the MIT findings being inconsistent with your trajectory.” I rattled off the DOI numbers and the specific methodology citations. Whitaker scrolled through his tablet, silent for a long moment. “…Fine. Keep running it.” After the meeting, Beth sidled up to me. “Julie, that experimental design was actually really clever. Do you think you could send me the slides? I want to learn from how you structured the variables.” I pulled my thumb drive from the port and dropped it into my pocket. “Once I’ve cleaned up the formatting, I’ll send it over.” I never sent it. She asked again a week later. I told her I’d forgotten. She didn’t ask a third time. But that night in the dorm, as she lay on the top bunk, she spoke into the darkness. “Julie? Are you mad at me?” “No. Why?” “I don’t know. You just… feel different lately.” I pulled the duvet up to my chin. “Just tired, Beth. The lab is a grind. Don’t overthink it.” There was a long silence. “Oh. Okay. Goodnight.” “Night.” I lay there with my eyes open, listening to her toss and turn above me. Different? Of course I was different. The Julie she knew had died on day 1,087 in the psych ward. 2 The weeks blurred into a focused, rhythmic haze. I lived in the lab. Every time a result came in, I synced it across my backups. I sent myself a weekly email log. My lab notebook never left my sight; I took it to the cafeteria, the gym, even the bathroom. Beth, meanwhile, began cultivating her “tribe.” She started bringing lattes to the lab—one for everyone, except me. She didn’t “forget.” She would count heads right in front of me. “One, two, three… okay, that’s everyone who asked,” she’d say, then turn on her heel. Hannah, a senior student, walked over with her cup, whispering, “Did you and Beth have a falling out?” “No,” I said. “Then why—” “Maybe she’s just stressed.” Hannah looked at me skeptically but let it drop. In mid-November, I was in the campus restroom when I heard voices in the stalls. “Julie is just… she’s getting paranoid,” Beth’s voice echoed against the tile. “She locks everything. She carries that notebook like it’s the Holy Grail. Who does that? It’s not normal.” “Wait, really?” That was Kaitlyn, a junior. “That sounds a bit intense.” “I live with her, Kaitlyn. I see it every night. She wouldn’t even share a basic PowerPoint with me. I just wanted to learn, and she acted like I was trying to rob her. It’s honestly kind of scary.” The sound of the running faucet drowned out my footsteps. I dried my hands, looked at my reflection—colder, sharper than before—and pushed the door open. Kaitlyn was just coming out of a stall. Her face went beet-red. “J-Julie…” “The dispenser is out of paper towels,” I said calmly. “You might want to let maintenance know.” I walked out. From that day on, the atmosphere in the lab shifted. When I spoke during group sessions, no one followed up. When the group went to lunch, they didn’t look my way. I’d walk into the breakroom and the conversation would die like a snuffed candle. I saw Kaitlyn whispering to another girl as I walked by with my backpack. “See? She’s got the notebook. Everywhere. Isn’t that a bit much?” I filled my water bottle and kept walking. In early December, Whitaker called me into his office. He sat behind his mahogany desk, fingers interlaced. “Julie, I’ve been hearing some concerning reports about your lack of collaboration.” “Concerning how, exactly?” “Data sharing. Literature discussions. You seem to be isolating yourself from the team.” “My data is in a critical phase. Once it’s ready for publication, I’ll be happy to share.” Whitaker adjusted his glasses. “Academia requires an open mind, Julie. You can’t produce world-class work in a vacuum.” “Dr. Whitaker, you’ve seen my progress. The trends are excellent—” “I know,” he snapped. “But a good project doesn’t excuse a toxic personality. This lab is a team. Do you understand?” I gripped my notebook through the fabric of my bag. I said nothing. “Fine. Go back to work. Think about what I said.” As I opened the door, I ran into Beth. She was carrying a steaming cup of coffee. She blinked, surprised to see me, then offered a small, sympathetic smile. “Julie? Did the meeting go okay?” I brushed past her without a word. Behind me, I heard her soft knock. “Dr. Whitaker? I brought you an Americano. I saw your light was still on and figured you were pulling another late one.” Whitaker’s voice drifted through the closing door, ten times softer than it had been with me. “You’re too kind, Beth. Come in, sit down.” I walked faster. Back at my desk, I opened my laptop. Thirty-two backup emails sat in my inbox, each with a clear, unforgeable timestamp. I opened the latest one. Three control groups. Perfect results. The project was six months away from being a breakthrough. In my last life, Beth’s name was on the header of that breakthrough. Not this time. I closed the email and opened a new document. Title: Beth – Loan and Repayment Log. She hadn’t paid back a single cent. I saved the document, synced it to three clouds, and shut my eyes. From the top bunk, Beth’s voice drifted down. “Julie?” “Yeah.” “What do you think of Dr. Whitaker? As a person, I mean.” “He’s an advisor. Does it matter if he’s a good person?” Beth let out a small, airy laugh. “I guess not. Goodnight.” I didn’t say it back. I stared at the ceiling and counted to three hundred until her breathing leveled out. Then I rolled over, pressing my notebook under my pillow. 3 By spring, Beth’s “assistance” to Whitaker was undeniable. Mondays, she organized his desk. Wednesdays, she picked up his dry cleaning. Fridays, she handled his administrative filings. Weekends… she started going to his condo to “help with his organization.” The lab saw it. No one said anything. Except Hannah, who caught me in the breakroom once. “Is Beth… going a little overboard?” I shook my head. “None of my business.” “But she’s—” “Hannah, just focus on your own thesis.” Hannah looked at me for a few seconds, sighed, and walked away. In late March, I submitted my grant application for the next phase of testing. Two weeks went by. Nothing. Four weeks. Silence. I went to Whitaker’s office. “Dr. Whitaker, my grant application has been sitting in ‘pending’ for a month.” “I’m still reviewing the direction of your project,” he said, not looking up. “There’s no rush.” “But the reagents are going to—” “I said there’s no rush.” As I walked out, I saw Beth’s grant approval posted on the department bulletin board. Submission date: March 28th. Approval date: March 31st. Three days. My application had been rotting in his drawer for a month, but hers took seventy-two hours. I stood in front of that board for a long time. A junior student walked past, murmuring, “Still looking at that, Julie? Beth’s research direction is just really solid, I guess.” I didn’t answer. In April, my funding finally came through. It was a third less than what I’d asked for. I didn’t argue. I took two thousand dollars of my own savings to bridge the gap. The experiment couldn’t stop. By May, the core data began to finalize. All three control groups were yielding results that were even better than I’d hoped. I immediately synced them to my three clouds. I sent myself two emails—one with the attachment, one with just the raw findings and the date. Then, I opened my physical lab notebook. I copied the data in my neatest handwriting. Then I paused. I flipped to the back of the notebook. I wrote out a second set of data. This set was nearly identical to the real one, with one tiny, fatal flaw: in the third control group, I changed the p-value from 0.003 to 0.03. A single decimal point. To an untrained eye, or even a tired one, it looked fine. But anyone who actually understood the research would know that a p-value of 0.03 meant the results weren’t statistically significant. The entire conclusion would fall apart. I marked those pages with a sticky note: FOR VERIFICATION. Then, I closed the book and left it on my desk. Usually, it went everywhere with me. Today, I left it right there, in plain sight. Before heading to the cafeteria, I adjusted my desk lamp. I tucked a single strand of my hair under the base of the lamp. When I returned forty-five minutes later, the lamp had been moved two centimeters. The hair was gone. The notebook was exactly where I’d left it, but the sticky note had been moved by one page. I sat down, said nothing, and started typing my draft. Late that night, I stopped by the security office on my way out. The guard was scrolling through his phone. “Hey, I think I dropped my ID card in the building earlier. Could you help me check the footage to see if anyone picked it up?” “Which floor?” “Third.” “Let’s take a look.” He pulled up the playback. 6:32 PM: I leave the lab for dinner. 6:41 PM: Beth enters the lab. She walks straight to my desk. She looks around, then opens my notebook. She flips to the back—to the “bait” data. She pulls out her phone. Snap. Snap. Snap. She closes the book, replaces it perfectly, and leaves. The whole thing took less than three hundred seconds. The guard looked up. “See your ID?” “Oh, no. Must have dropped it outside. Thanks anyway.” “No problem.” I walked into the stairwell and stood in the dark. The motion-sensor lights stayed off because I wasn’t moving. I leaned against the wall and smiled. Okay, Beth. You took the bait. 4 From June to September, I waited. I waited for Beth to write her paper using that poisoned data. I waited for her to commit. I did nothing but run my own experiments and give my usual, lukewarm updates to Whitaker. His attitude remained cold. His attitude toward Beth remained… indulgent. In late September, Beth took a week off, saying she was visiting her mother. I was at the lab printer when I saw a discarded page in the recycling bin. It was a Table of Contents for a manuscript. The title was nearly identical to my research. Lead Author: Beth Miller. Corresponding Author: Dr. Richard Whitaker. I folded the paper and put it in my bag. I scanned it, uploaded it, and emailed it to myself. Mid-October, Beth’s paper was published. It landed in a high-impact journal. The lab was buzzing. During our weekly meeting, Whitaker stood up and singled her out. “Beth’s work is a testament to clarity and drive. She is quite possibly the most brilliant student I’ve had the pleasure of mentoring in years.” Beth stood up, blushing, looking modest. “I couldn’t have done it without Dr. Whitaker’s guidance.” The look they exchanged was one everyone in the room understood. After the meeting, I sat at my desk and downloaded her paper. I read every word. The methodology, the framework—it was mine. I scrolled to Section Three: Results and Analysis. Third control group: p=0.03. She hadn’t even caught it. She’d copied the error, character for character. I closed my laptop and exhaled. Game on. One week later, the University Academic Integrity Committee received an anonymous tip. The tip didn’t target Beth. It targeted me. The report claimed that I, Julie, had been spying on Beth’s research, stealing her ideas, and making “hostile remarks” about her in private. Attached were five “witness statements” from my lab mates. Kaitlyn wrote: Julie was always trying to look at Beth’s screen. A junior named Mark wrote: Julie told me Beth’s data was ‘fake’ to try and discredit her. Each statement was a half-truth or a fabrication, woven together to create a portrait of a jealous, unstable girl. The committee launched an investigation. I was placed on administrative leave. My keycard was confiscated. Whitaker held a lab meeting without naming me, but his message was clear: “Academic dishonesty is a red line. Anyone who crosses it is dead to this profession.” The room looked at me. No one spoke up. Hannah kept her head down, flipping through her notes. That afternoon, the university’s anonymous message board exploded. [LEAK: Grad student in the Bio-Sciences caught stealing roommate’s thesis] The thread was vicious. “Kick the academic trash out.” “Imagine stealing from the girl who literally helped you pay tuition.” “I heard she’s a total psycho. A real backstabber.” The last comment had the most upvotes. I shut down the forum. My phone rang. It was my mother. “Honey,” her voice was trembling. “Tell me the truth. Did you… is what they’re saying true?” I gripped the phone. “No, Mom. I didn’t do it.” Silence. “Then… then you have to explain it to them. You have to make them listen.” “I will.” I sat on the edge of my dorm bed. Beth wasn’t there. She’d been staying “out”—likely at Whitaker’s condo. I looked at my hands. In my first life, I would have broken here. I would have run to Whitaker crying, tried to explain it to the committee, sounding more guilty with every desperate word. And then Beth would have started “worrying” about my mental health. Not this time. I set my phone to Do Not Disturb and opened my evidence folder. The next day, Beth came back to the dorm to pack a bag. She saw me at my desk, hesitated, and then sat down across from me. “Julie.” “Mhm.” “How are you… holding up?” “I’m fine.” “I heard about the investigation. I don’t even know what to say. I just think the pressure got to you.” She reached out and put her hand over mine. Her skin was cool. “Maybe you should see someone? The campus clinic has great counselors. I can make an appointment for you.” I looked at her hand. Perfectly manicured. A small bite mark on her middle finger—a nervous habit she had when she was lying. In my last life, this was the hand that signed my commitment papers. “I don’t need a counselor,” I said, pulling my hand away. “I’m perfectly sane.” Beth sighed. “Julie, don’t bottle it up. I’m really worried about you. I’m afraid you’ll do something… drastic.” I looked her in the eye. “Beth.” “Yeah?” “When are you going to pay me back that thousand dollars?” Her face stiffened for a heartbeat. Then she smiled. “See? This is what I mean. You’re fixating on money. It’s not a normal way to react to all of this. You really need help, Julie.” She grabbed her things and left. As the door clicked shut, I heard her pick up her phone in the hallway. “Dr. Whitaker? Yeah, she’s getting worse… she said some really strange things… I’m scared, Richard. What do we do?” Her voice faded as she hit the stairs. I opened my laptop and logged the time and content of the conversation. Save. Sync. Email. The hearing was set for Wednesday. I made one more call. “Hi, is this the Facilities and Security office? I’d like to request a formal backup of the hallway footage from the Science Building. May 17th. Yes, I have the case number from the Dean’s office.”

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