Category: English

1 The fourth time it happened, my mom floored the gas and exploded the car. My dad and my childhood sweetheart’s mom were locked in a passionate embrace inside. When the rescue team pulled their bodies out, they were charred, but still fused together. After that day, Finn and I, once inseparable lovers, became bitter enemies. He brought people to trash my dad’s wake and desecrate his grave. Not to be outdone, I dumped his mom’s ashes down the toilet. He shattered my head with a liquor bottle; I nearly blinded him with a knife. Just when I thought we were destined to be lifelong foes, he threatened my mother’s life and forced me to marry him. He said, “Scarlett, the debt your parents owe, I want you to pay it.” “The Nicholas family is ruined because of me. Your mom’s pathetic life is in my hands now.” “If you don’t want her to die, you’ll quietly endure my revenge for them.” Three years into our marriage, he used every means to torment me, including in bed. Yet, he despised those who kept mistresses and shamed their wives. He always said he hated infidelity more than anything. Until his adopted sister showed up, claiming she was pregnant with his child. … “Serena, that night was really an accident. Both Finn and I were drunk, that’s why…” Hope’s eyes were teary, one hand gently cradling her slightly protruding belly. Even at five months pregnant, she exuded an innocent, pitiful aura. If this were before, I might have mercilessly exposed her pretense. But now, I no longer cared. The people he sent had already arrived at the sanatorium, ready to take Mom and me away. “You don’t need to explain to me. What Finn does is none of my business, and I have no interest in making it so.” “I have things to do. Please leave.” I picked up my bag, slipped on my shoes, and tried to walk around her to open the door. The next second, she grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my flesh, making me wince. “No, it is your business.” Her gaze suddenly turned obsessive and wild. She whispered in my ear: “Because only you can make him keep this baby.” “What?” I turned to look at her. The next second, the door opened from the outside. Hope suddenly let go of me and dramatically fell backward. “Ah!” Her head hit the wooden edge of the sunken entryway with a thud, and blood immediately gushed out. I froze, instinctively reaching out to help her. A figure suddenly burst in, slamming into me. I was thrown uncontrollably into the sharp corner of the shoe cabinet behind me, a searing pain shooting through my lower back. It made my knees buckle, and I involuntarily collapsed to the floor. Finn, however, didn’t even glance at me, only cradling Hope tenderly. Hope, curled in his arms, sobbed, struggling to breathe, blood dripping from her pale neck onto his arm. “Brother, please don’t blame Scarlett. She was just angry, that’s why she treated me this way.” “My stomach hurts so much. Please save our baby, please…” Finn hooked his foot under my chin, his eyes blazing with fury, yet containing a hint of undetectable scrutiny. “Scarlett, why are you so wicked? How dare you touch my child?” I suppressed the pain, repeatedly slamming my head against the floor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Again and again, until warm blood seeped from my forehead. I couldn’t be bothered to explain. I only remembered that six months ago, Hope jumped into the heated pool and accused me of pushing her. My explanation resulted in him ordering his men to strip me and throw me into a winter lake. Looking at my blood-streaked face, he spoke coldly: “Alright, you better pray this child is fine. Otherwise, I’ll make sure both you and your mom are buried with it.” With that, he carried Hope away, striding quickly. I struggled to my feet, grabbing my bag, intending to rush to the sanatorium. However, as soon as I stepped out of the villa’s main gate, two bodyguards suddenly appeared, forcibly pushing me into a car. 2 At the hospital, I lay on a gurney, held down. A nurse plunged a needle into my arm. Blood was drawn, bag after bag. It didn’t hurt, but I felt cold. Outside the door, a doctor’s voice drifted in. “Mr. Hayes, Mrs. Nicholas’s body is already severely depleted from her two previous miscarriages. Drawing too much blood will be dangerous. Perhaps we could use blood from the blood bank…” “No. How can we be sure a stranger’s blood is clean? Just draw it. She’s stubborn; she won’t die.” After 500cc of blood was drawn, my vision blurred, and my lips had turned purple. The nurse urgently stopped, running out to say that should be enough. Finn pushed the door open and came in, instinctively reaching out to touch my forehead. I turned my head away, speaking hoarsely. “I’m fine. I won’t die.” He scoffed, withdrawing his hand curtly. “This is what you owe Hope. Don’t pretend.” “Didn’t you say you didn’t care? What, knowing she’s pregnant with my child, you can’t keep up the act?” So, he thought I was jealous, which was why I attacked Hope. I forced a pale smile, looking at him mockingly. “You’re overthinking it. Even if you have a litter of children with her, I have no right to object, do I?” His gaze was furious. He gripped my wrist tightly. “Then why are you laughing?” “I’m just laughing at how worthless all those vows you made truly are.” Three years ago, my dad and his mom’s affair became a public scandal. His dad, seeing the news in the hospital, suffered a heart attack and passed away. On the day of the burial, Finn threatened my mom’s life, dragging me to kneel before his dad’s tombstone. He swore he would bind himself to me forever, to torment me, this wicked woman, relentlessly. He also bowed to his dad, saying, “Dad, forgive me, I can’t bury Mom’s ashes with yours… No, she doesn’t deserve to be my mother! All who are unfaithful to their marriage and partner deserve to die!” But three years later, he became the one unfaithful to his marriage. “Hope and I… that day was an accident.” He released my hand, his gaze unusually remorseful. “It was the third anniversary of our dad’s death. Hope and I both drank too much, that’s why… it wasn’t my intention. You know, I’ve only ever seen her as a sister since we were kids.” In three years, it was the first time he had explained himself so patiently. “I originally wanted her to get rid of the baby and go abroad, but the doctor said she has a unique constitution; if she miscarries, she might be infertile for life. Scarlett, you’ve miscarried twice already and it will be difficult for you to get pregnant again. Hope said she’s willing to give birth to this child for us to raise.” He held my cold hand, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “When the child is born, you will be its mother, the only one.” “Scarlett, we’ve hated each other long enough. I’m tired. After this child is born, can we live a good life, please?” His eyes were hopeful yet cautious, instantly reminding me of the past. When he first saw me at six years old, he had mumbled to the adults that he would marry me. For the next eighteen years, he would do anything for me, saying I was his whole world. Until three years ago, he found out that before my mom drove off to catch my dad, I was the only one who had spoken to her. He hated me fiercely, saying: “Even if your dad and my mom did something wrong, they didn’t deserve to die, did they? Why were you so cruel as to instigate your mom to kill them!” I endured the pain and tried to explain, it wasn’t me. He was about to believe me, when another piece of bad news arrived. His dad, recuperating in the hospital, suddenly suffered a heart attack from shock and died. Before he died, he had also only seen me. Finn completely lost his mind. He grabbed my throat and roared: “What did my dad ever do to you that you would hurt him like this!” In that moment, all love turned into hatred and venom. Just like the look in my eyes when I stared at him now. “No need. I don’t make a habit of being cuckolded and raising other people’s children.” “Finn, if you feel your hatred for me is satisfied, please set me free.” His expression suddenly changed, and he was about to speak when Hope’s crying voice came from outside the door. “Brother, does Scarlett really not accept our baby?” “If that’s the case, I’ll just get rid of it!” She cried and ran outside. Finn quickly got up and chased after her. My phone rang again. When I answered, the person on the other end spoke anxiously: “Scarlett, why haven’t you gone to the sanatorium yet? Don’t you want to come see me?” “No, there have been some unexpected issues. Give me a few more days.” After hanging up, I could no longer support myself. My eyes rolled back, and I completely fainted. 3 I had a very long dream. In the dream, I found myself back five years ago, to the first time I was pregnant with Finn’s child. The baby was also five months old then. Both families were overjoyed, discussing our engagement. But on the way to a prenatal check-up, we had a severe car accident. Finn, his head bleeding, desperately shielded me. The deformed car door trapped his leg. Rescue workers said the car was at risk of exploding at any moment and wanted to saw off the door to pull him out, but he roared: “Don’t worry about me, save my wife first!” I was rushed to the hospital and underwent surgery for three days, but the baby didn’t make it. When I woke up, I learned that when the rescuers sawed open the car door, his leg had been crushed and mangled by the twisted metal. The doctor said he would have needed an amputation if they’d been half an hour later. Learning I was awake, he ignored everyone’s advice, dragging his injured leg to hold me, sobbing uncontrollably. “Scarlett, I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault for not protecting you and our baby! Thank God you’re okay, otherwise I wouldn’t want to live either!” I cried, calling him silly, secretly vowing in my heart that he was the one for me, always. The next second, the dream shifted. I was submerged in the icy lake water of winter, my lower body wracked with pain, as if being slowly tortured by countless sharp knives. On the shore, Finn held Hope’s shoulder, his eyes cold and full of resentment. “You like pushing people into the water so much, why don’t you get a good feel for it yourself!” With that, he ignored my pleas and cries of pain, turning and leaving. By the time I was dragged ashore, the water beneath me was stained red. My second child was lost that way. “No!” I woke with a start from the dream, finding myself still lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. The nurse said I had been unconscious for three full days. “Mr. Hayes came every day, holding your hand for a long time. You’re truly blessed, Mrs. Nicholas.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. Am I? He’s hurt me like this; am I supposed to be grateful? Finn arrived quickly after learning I was awake. His collar was half-open, and he still carried the scent of magnolia, which Hope loved. “Awake? Hope is threatening to abort the baby because of your words. Come back with me and apologize to her.” He roughly pulled out my IV, dragging me from the bed. “I told her you’d personally take care of her until the baby is born, so she shouldn’t overthink it.” “When we get home, remember to do as I say.” I shook off his hand and sneered, “Why should I?” He didn’t get angry. He simply pulled out his phone and showed me a video of my mom’s monitoring at the sanatorium. “Scarlett, do you have no idea how much your mom’s medical and nursing care has cost me these past three years?” “If you refuse, then I’ll have no choice but to have her medical equipment and care withdrawn.” I stared at his phone screen, my nails digging into my palms. After a moment, I lowered my eyes in compromise. “Fine, I promise.” “That’s better. I told you, as soon as the child is born, I’ll send Hope away. You’ll still be the only Mrs. Hayes, the child’s mother.” I said nothing more, my head bowed, following him out. Yesterday, the sanatorium doctor had called to say Mom’s condition was improving, and she could wake up at any time. If she could just wake up, the truth of what happened that year would finally come to light. When that person called again, I pleaded: “Can you wait a little longer?” After hearing the reason, he firmly said: “Alright, I’ll finish things up here as quickly as possible and come back to the States to be with you!” Over the next few days, I became Hope’s personal caretaker. She used every method to torment me, deliberately making me prepare complex seafood porridge without gloves. When my hands swelled red from the seafood allergy, she then ordered me to handwash her underwear, scrubbing them with scalding hot water. Until my hands were swollen and throbbing, she then made me kneel and scrub the entire villa’s floor. My back injury flared up repeatedly, and my knees were bruised from kneeling. Every day, from five in the morning until ten at night, I would stew soups, cook meals, clean, and massage her swollen legs and feet. One night, she said she couldn’t sleep and ordered me to pick a hundred roses from the garden for her bath. I refused. She then slapped herself and cried, falsely accusing me: “Sister Scarlett, it’s all my fault. You can hit me all you want, I just beg you not to hurt me and Brother’s baby…” Finn, who had just returned, put his arm around her and coldly said to me: “Is this how you take care of Hope?” He punished me by making me kneel in the rose bushes all night. I wanted to explain, wanted him to check the security cameras. But I discovered that Hope had had all the villa’s surveillance systems removed the very first day she moved in. She sneered triumphantly: “Scarlett, I didn’t think you could endure this much.” “You’ve been humiliated in your own home for so long, yet you still cling on, refusing to leave.” “And why not? Your wretched mother needs to leech off Brother to survive. The Nicholas family is ruined. Without him, you’re nothing. You can’t bear to give up this life of luxury, can you?” I ignored her. Because I knew that if I retorted, only Mom and I would suffer. Seeing my submission, Finn ultimately didn’t have the heart to make me kneel all night. After Hope fell asleep, he told me to get up and run his bath. I mechanically returned to the room. He suddenly forcefully pressed me onto the sofa, breathing heavily, and kissed me.

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1. I snagged my boyfriend, Elias, after relentlessly pursuing him. He was like an unattainable wildflower, plucked from a high perch, and I wanted to put him on a pedestal. Elias never met my parents, looked down on my friends, and mostly regarded everything about me with disdain. My best friend, Quinn, would scold me, her voice laced with frustration, “Why do you act like you can’t feel hurt, can’t feel wronged?” I’d just grin foolishly, “Because I love him, you know?” “Besides, he’s incredible. A golden boy. I’m the one who got lucky.” I genuinely believed Elias Thorne was just naturally aloof. That was, until the fourth day of our silent treatment, when he publicly announced his new girlfriend. When we eventually ran into each other again, I offered a polite greeting. But as I was leaving, he suddenly asked, “How did you do it? Just stopped loving me?” I didn’t answer directly. Instead, I simply said, “Excuse me, my boyfriend’s waiting.” … Elias was wrong. Nobody just “stops” loving someone. It’s more like, through a thousand tiny disappointments, you finally accumulate enough heartache to walk away. The reason Elias and I had our last fight was, in hindsight, pretty laughable. I’d been out with friends, and naturally, had a few too many drinks. They started chanting, egging me on, “It’s so late, so unsafe. Get your boyfriend to pick you up.” Tentatively, I called Elias. The phone rang several times, unanswered. He was always so busy, his time for me minimal. Once, because I kept texting him, he’d snapped at me, his face cold, “I’m running an experiment. Don’t distract me.” One by one, my friends were picked up by their boyfriends. They’d walk away hand in hand into the night. A few patted my back before leaving, a word lingering on their lips, but they never said it. Soon, only Quinn and I, the single one, remained. Just as I was about to give up, Elias’s low, detached voice came through. I asked if he could pick me up. A beat of heavy silence stretched. I thought the signal was bad, pulled the phone away, and saw that Elias had already hung up. I couldn’t even get into our apartment. Elias had changed the password, and through the crack in the door, he sneered, his voice dripping with ice. “You reek.” “Come back when you’ve cleaned yourself up. Only then are you welcome in my home.” It was a rare moment when I actually got angry. I stubbornly held out for three days, refusing to contact Elias. It was our first real fight. Usually, when he was upset, I’d rush to apologize, no matter what it was about. I was always the one to back down first, and then I’d patch up my own feelings. But if I didn’t contact him, he’d never reach out. A sudden exhaustion washed over me. But I didn’t last past the fourth day. I found myself standing at our doorstep, thinking about how we were close to getting married. Why let such a small thing cause discord? Besides, one more apology wouldn’t hurt. Quinn had pointed to her forehead, calling me an idiot. I’d sheepishly retorted, “Well, after drinking, I do smell a bit, you know?” But after I said that, she suddenly went quiet, staring at me intently for a long moment. It took her a while to speak again, her voice choked with tears, “You’re so incredibly dense.” Elias leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head as he looked at me. “What are you doing here?” “Elias, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come home so late that night, and certainly not after so many drinks.” It was my habitual admission of guilt. Elias seemed to just remember the incident. “Oh. We’re broken up. You don’t need to apologize to me.” “What…?” “Didn’t you say it yourself when you were chasing me? That you’d cling to me relentlessly unless we broke up?” “You’ve given me peace and quiet for days. I just assumed we were done.” A striking girl emerged from inside the apartment. Elias put an arm around her waist. “Let me introduce you. My new girlfriend, Celeste.” All the color drained from my face. “I thought we were just… having a fight.” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. 2. The sharp click of the door closing jolted me awake. Quinn had just dropped me off and was already insistent on taking me away again. “She’s experienced significant trauma, so she’s temporarily lost her voice.” The doctor’s words hung in the air. I sat there, picking at my fingers, only able to produce raspy breaths. My phone was flooded with messages, all asking about the nine-panel photo Elias had posted on social media with another girl. The last time I’d seen Elias smile so brightly, so openly, was when I proposed to him. “You always say you’re busy.” “You can spare five minutes to propose, right, Elias? Marry me?” His scolding about me delaying his experiment progress had abruptly stopped. His stern face had melted away like ice in the sun. I’d laughed with him then, genuinely believing he loved me too. Elias’s call came at that moment. “Stella Brooks, there’s a lot of your stuff left here. Come get it tomorrow.” Five years together, and he was always like that. “Stella, be quiet.” “Stella, stop hanging out with those friends of yours. They’re getting increasingly low-class.” “Stella, my time isn’t meant to be wasted on these silly anniversaries.” But Elias, the busy man, was actually home on a weekday, wearing loungewear, making coffee at the counter for his new girlfriend. When I’d been sick with a fever, Elias had only poured me a glass of hot water before telling me, “Something’s come up at the lab. I’m leaving.” My heart felt encased in a shell. Since yesterday, it was as if I’d lost all sensation of the world around me. I numbly repeated the motion of picking things up and putting them into boxes. Elias reached out to help me with a box, but I instinctively flinched away, sending everything crashing to the floor. His face immediately darkened. “Breaking up was your choice, wasn’t it? Who are you playing mute for?” He didn’t know I genuinely couldn’t speak. Elias was handsome, came from a good family, and was a rising star in biology. His enrollment had caused a sensation. Even though he himself was an emotionless iceberg, it didn’t stop people from flocking to him. I fell for him at first sight and pursued him all the way through college and graduation. When I graduated, I was heartbroken, thinking I’d never cross paths with him again. “I won’t bother you anymore.” But when a gossipy person raised a camera to snap a photo of us, Elias suddenly took my hand. “Let’s try being together.” “Don’t look at me, look at the camera.” I still remember the thrilling tremor in my heart. When I first snagged Elias, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. I even declared, “Being cold and distant is good. No need to worry about him cheating.” It turned out to be an empty promise. The first time I saw Celeste’s name was when I accidentally picked up Elias’s phone. It was filled with endless chat logs between him and Celeste. They talked about everything, from experiment progress to daily trivialities. I saw Celeste ask Elias, “Professor Thorne, why have you never posted about your girlfriend on social media?” Elias replied, “Nothing worth posting.” It still stung deeply. Elias, his eyes cold, demanded, “Are you going through my phone?” “Who is Celeste?” He sounded annoyed. “A new intern at the lab.” “You never told me, and do you two really have that much to talk about?” Elias seemed to realize I was jealous, and his expression softened slightly. “She’s a new hire, what’s there to say?” “Besides, we only talk about lab stuff. You wouldn’t understand.” “You could share it with me,” I said, feeling a little hurt. He maintained his poker face. “Like I said, you wouldn’t understand. Just like I’m not interested in those plants you’re always fussing over.” I owned a flower shop. I still remembered the excitement of showing Elias my first big sale. He’d turned away dismissively. “Childish. What’s the point?” His career was noble, my dreams insignificant. After that day, Elias’s never-locked phone was protected by a password. Quinn’s voice pulled me back. “Stella, don’t be naive. To move on so quickly with someone else, it only proves he was already emotionally detached.” Yet, four days later, was the dinner arranged by both families to discuss Elias and my wedding. 3. When I arrived, the scene was already chaotic. Elias’s grandmother was gasping for air, clutching her chest, while Elias knelt directly in front of her. “Grandma, Stella and I have broken up.” “This wedding, it can’t happen.” As soon as she saw me, Celeste also dropped to her knees, her eyes red and teary. “Miss Brooks, I know you and Professor Thorne have been together for a long time, but love doesn’t follow a timetable.” “And I heard that since graduation, Miss Brooks, you’ve done nothing but hang out with friends and potter around your little flower shop. You can’t offer Professor Thorne any help in his career or family life!” “None of us new lab members have ever seen you. Other interns’ partners have visited the lab at least once, haven’t they? And you? You actually expected Professor Thorne to drop an important project to pick you up from a bar?” “Miss Brooks, please, I beg you, let Professor Thorne go.” She listed off accusations, her voice full of indignant passion for Elias. Some relatives, who weren’t often in touch with either family, started looking at me differently. My heart, shredded by Elias’s silence, ached. I forced myself to speak, my voice raw. “I’ll return the engagement gifts tomorrow.” Days of disuse had made my throat hoarse, making my words sound like a sob. But my answer didn’t satisfy them. Celeste pressed on, aggressive. “Then write a statement, and send it to everyone.” “Professor Thorne’s undergraduate roommate told us, everyone in the lab knows, that he only agreed to be with you because you hounded him relentlessly and he felt sorry for you back then.” “Don’t try the same tricks again!” “I won’t allow it!” Grandma’s finger trembled as she pointed at Elias, scolding him. “You insolent boy! Stella is the granddaughter-in-law I chose!” But Elias’s face was filled with mockery. “Grandma, I know you’re grateful because Stella saved you back then.” “But at that time, she was just following me. She only knew you were my grandmother and happened to find you when you had a medical emergency, sending you to the hospital. It wasn’t because she was as innocent and kind as you think!” “She had ulterior motives to get close to me.” I stared at Elias blankly. I had only been waiting for him on that street. I wasn’t following him. And when I helped the old lady, I had no idea she was Elias’s grandmother. No wonder when Elias arrived at the hospital, he had only frowned, said “thank you,” and then irritably warned me. “Don’t try these tactics again.” Something inside me finally shattered. I smiled faintly. “So that’s what you truly believed.” I looked at Celeste, enunciating each word carefully. “I never came to the lab because Elias didn’t want me to.” “You say I never did anything for him? He got stomach issues from irregular meals during experiments. I found a nutritionist and worked with them repeatedly to create a stomach-friendly meal plan, making him portable, nourishing meals.” “I loved him for nine years. Can you even count how much I did for him?” All those moments, one after another – the person involved didn’t care, so why bother repeating them? For these nine years, I had made my gamble and now accepted the loss. “Forget it.” “This is the end.” Tears, uncontrollable, welled in my eyes. “Elias Thorne, we are officially over.” Elias’s eyebrows flickered, a faint, almost mocking smile playing on his lips. “Stella Brooks, you better mean that.” “Yes, you won’t have to worry about me bothering you ever again.” He seemed unconvinced. “Last time we fought, you added me on a dozen different fake accounts. I’ll delete them all today. Don’t try anything else.” I nodded, my posture earnest. “Don’t worry.” “Never again.”

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It was my third rebirth, and Jake had died again at 28. Unwilling to accept it, I started over, as always. We met, fell in love, and then something shifted. He began using his “poor mental state” as an excuse to frequently see his therapist. Until one day I walked in on them kissing in her office. Jake sneered: “You might think I’m crazy if I told you, but I’ve actually died three times, and each time was right next to Serena. I originally wanted to see how she would save me, but now I think she’s just bad luck. I’ll keep my distance, and look, I’m perfectly fine.” I quietly retreated. In this fourth life, whether he lived or died, it had nothing to do with me. I was going to live my own life. 1 I can’t describe how I felt hearing those words. Jake was leaning into Dr. Evelyn Woodeson’s neck, sniffing her long hair. Dr. Woodeson was his therapist. Jake had recently been complaining about feeling mentally chaotic and needing to see a doctor. I never imagined this was the kind of “seeing a doctor” he meant. Their intimacy was a blinding sight. The rage of betrayal instantly consumed all my reason. I wanted to storm in and demand an explanation for his actions. Across three lifetimes, Jake’s heart had, from beginning to end, belonged to me. I had held this belief firmly, yet the reality of this fourth life struck me like a physical blow. I was incredulous, wondering if I had misunderstood something. Then, the Jake I believed loved me most deeply, most passionately, and most faithfully, spoke. He squinted, playfully twirling Dr. Woodeson’s long hair as she sat on his lap, then scoffed: “Dr. Woodeson, do you think there’s really something wrong with my head? But I don’t think those first three deaths were fake; the pain still sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it.” Dr. Woodeson clutched her chest, her concern affected. “Oh dear, what if you die again this time?” Jake curled his lips into a smile. “How could I? Each life I spent with Serena, and each time I died right beside her. I originally wanted to see how she’d save me, but now I realize she must just be cursed. I keep my distance, and look, I’m perfectly fine. This life, I have you, Dr. Evelyn.” His voice hitched slightly on the last words, making Dr. Woodeson blush and playfully complain: “Well then, you’ve found the right person. Dr. Woodeson will fix you this lifetime.” In that moment, the muffled laughter of the man and woman inside the room reached my ears, distorted as if through a membrane. Jake’s words replayed and amplified in my mind, making my heart clench, a suffocating feeling washing over me. I leaned against the wall, gasping for air. I couldn’t remember how I got home that day. I only recalled collapsing onto the sofa, my body drained of all strength. It felt as though my spine had been removed, leaving me limp. This was no exaggeration. What had sustained me through each rebirth was the obsession to save Jake at 28. In the first life, he died when we were most in love. We had just gotten our marriage license. He was driving us on a road trip, and I was admiring my ring, saying I wanted to design a matching pair of earrings. His “That sounds lovely” hadn’t even fully left his lips when a runaway truck crashed into us with a sickening crunch. In that instant, time seemed to slow. In my widened eyes, dilated with horror, I clearly saw him lunge towards me, half his body shielding mine. Finally, I saw his bloodshot eyes, unwilling to close, filled with love and pain. I screamed, sobbing uncontrollably. My mind had only one thought: No, no, Jake can’t die, we have so much left to do… I want to start over, I want to save him! Then, suddenly, a voice in my head asked: Are you sure? Sure you want to give up your future, and go back to do something that might fail, repeating it again and again? I said yes. So I tried for one lifetime, two lifetimes… And this lifetime tells me he knew everything. He watched me, so pathetic and desperate, begging him to live. He even said I was bad luck, that I was the reason he died. 2 It was late when Jake returned home. I was still sitting on the sofa, replaying every step, trying to figure out where I went wrong, when his heart had changed. “Why are the lights off? What are you staring at?” His voice was as gentle as ever. He sat beside me, naturally reaching out to put an arm around my waist, acting so normal it was as if what I’d just witnessed had been a dream. I reflexively recoiled. The atmosphere grew stiff. A hint of coolness flickered in Jake’s eyes; he clearly sensed my abnormality. But, as if annoyed, he didn’t ask. “I’m going to bed. You should get some rest too.” I slept terribly that night. Even with Jake beside me, my mind replayed the scenes of his death over and over. In the first life, he died instantly in the car crash. Blood seeped from his body, soaking my shirt. In the second life, we were married, but we didn’t go on a honeymoon, so that car accident never happened. Then, something absurdly unexpected occurred. He came to pick me up from work, and a billboard above us came crashing down. It landed squarely on him. I watched, helpless, as the tall man was crushed without a trace. It was as if fate demanded his death. I refused to believe it, so we started the third life. This time, I quit my job. After we married, I stayed by his side almost constantly, terrified that something might happen if I looked away. We made it, against all odds, to his 28th birthday. As he blew out the candles, the light illuminated his sparkling eyes. In the glow, he confessed his love to me, his eyes misty: “Serena, it’s so good to have you.” My heart raced. I noticed his smile fading, his face blurring. A powerful sense of dread threatened to overwhelm me. Then Jake coughed up a mouthful of blood. Perhaps it was the passage of time, or perhaps my panic was too overwhelming to hold other memories. I couldn’t recall the name of his illness. It was some rare condition, and his life ended abruptly, almost absurdly quickly. My last memory was of a pristine white hospital room. In the deathly silence, only the faintly flashing monitor persistently beeped, as if severing his last thread of life. I couldn’t accept it. How could I? Jake and I met when we were young. I was a country bumpkin from a rural town, but because I was pretty and had an enviable talent for dance, a few girls in my class began to subtly target me. I endured it, and endured it, until the day they overturned my grandmother’s pancake stall. Amidst the chaos, I held back tears, helping my grandmother up. The girls, bright and polished, laughed condescendingly, their voices sharp. They called me “pancake girl,” telling me to go home and flip pancakes. My grandmother was mute; she mumbled and gestured, wiping the grease from my clothes. They laughed even harder. And then Jake appeared. He held a camera, and a quick phone call brought the school administrators. He was a good student, and his family had some money, making him a formidable presence in our small town. It was an evening, and though the daytime sky had been gloomy, somehow, at that moment, the sun broke through the layers of haze and poured directly onto Jake. He extended his hand, and in his palm was a clean, neatly folded handkerchief. His first words were: “I’m sorry, I wanted to capture the evidence first, so I didn’t help you right away.” Even now, I remember how my heart pounded that day. Violent and strong, it had sustained me through countless worlds where I cycled alone through his deaths. 3 Even on the second morning, I was still somewhat disoriented. Jake was awake by then. He put on the clothes I’d ironed for him, glancing at me as I arranged breakfast on the table. “Aren’t you going to the dance company? Just going to stay home? There’s nothing for you to do here, is there…” His voice trailed off on the last few words, tinged with bewilderment. My hand paused as I wiped the table. I looked up at him, but he immediately averted his gaze. “You eat breakfast here. I won’t. Don’t see me off, and don’t pick me up tonight. I’m going to see Dr. Woodeson.” He rubbed his temple at the appropriate moment, his tone casual. If it were before, I would have worried about his state. But now, I only felt a chill in my heart. He was almost 28, and we were about to get our marriage license. In previous lives, at this point, I had completely lost the desire to work, consumed by fear and anxiety. So I simply resigned from the dance company and truly became a housewife. At the time, he thought I was too tired and said with a smile: “Then don’t go. From now on, you’ll only dance for me. With me around, what do you have to worry about?” I accompanied him to and from work, and he proudly introduced me to his colleagues, showing off our matching rings. But now, he looked at me warily and coldly, telling me: “Don’t keep an eye on me all day. Find something to do for yourself. Don’t stare at me and let your imagination run wild; now you’re saying all sorts of things.” He was about to say more, but then he froze. My tone was very flat and cold: “No, we won’t.” Just three words, but they were a struggle to say. Jake was momentarily taken aback, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “What did you say?” His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, sounding as if he was suppressing some joy. I suddenly remembered what he’d said to Dr. Woodeson: “She’s always clinging to me, like bad luck. How could I not have something happen to me?” My tears welled up, but I held them back. Instead, a surge of indignation rushed to my head, and my cold blood felt like it was set ablaze. I smiled silently: “What? You’re happy I said no to marriage? Jake, you haven’t actually fallen for someone else, have you? Impatient to get rid of me?” Realizing I might be joking and teasing him, his face immediately changed, darkening frighteningly: “Serena, I think you’re the one with mental issues. Is this fun? No wonder I haven’t been feeling well lately; it turns out you’re affecting me.” He looked down at me, indignantly threw off his jacket, and went to sleep in the guest bedroom. The living room returned to silence, but the oppressive feeling lingered. I tilted my head back, looking at the ceiling, and the tears I’d held back for so long didn’t retreat, but streamed out, vying for release. After that day, Jake and my relationship became even colder. He began openly seeing Dr. Woodeson. When I confronted him, heartbroken, he just looked at me blandly, his expression mocking: “Then just give up on me. Don’t get married. Your world isn’t just me.” He was so calm, it made me feel like the crazy one. I was speechless.

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At 11:00 AM, while my husband was slowly suffocating to death in our bathtub, I was chatting with the neighborhood moms by the playground slide. The slide was located directly beneath my bathroom window, a straight line of no more than twenty feet. If I had stuck to my usual routine and gone home at eleven sharp, I would have been in time to save his life. But as fate would have it, Jessica had just bought a new designer dress and enthusiastically invited a few of us over to admire it. By the time my daughter and I walked through our front door at 11:10 AM, my husband had already drawn his last breath. At the funeral, I was consumed by a grief so absolute it tore me apart. I fainted several times. The attendees watched with profound sympathy, murmuring their condolences. Then came my mother-in-law, Martha. A retired elementary school principal, she had traveled all the way from the remote windswept plains of Wyoming. In front of everyone, she marched straight up to me. Her expression was made of stone. She articulated every single syllable. “You are the murderer who killed my son.” 1 It had been an entirely ordinary Saturday in late summer. Arthur had stayed up late working the night before, so he woke up a bit sluggish, not making it to the breakfast table until ten. By 10:05 AM, our daughter, Lily, was urging me to take her downstairs for the eighth time. As I crouched by the door to tie Lily’s sneakers, she wiggled her head and made a funny face at her father. “Daddy is a big lazy bug! The sun is already cooking your butt and you just woke up. Shame on you, Daddy!” Arthur let out a muffled chuckle, scrunching up his face to mimic hers. “Lily is a little troublemaker. Always forcing Mommy to take her out to play. Shame on you too, Lily.” I hurriedly grabbed my water bottle and a pack of tissues. Just as I opened the door, a thought struck me, and I turned back. “Honey, Lily is going to be drenched in sweat again today. Remember to start the bathwater early so she can jump right in when we get back.” Our tub had terrible water pressure. It always took a solid twenty minutes to fill up. Arthur held a piece of toast in one hand and brought two fingers of the other to his temple in a mock salute. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Mission accepted.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “Let’s go!” The playground slide was just below our apartment building, easily the most bustling spot in the entire estate. Kids ran wild while parents clustered together in little gossip circles. After sitting with a few moms I knew well, I patted my pockets and realized in my rush, I had left my phone upstairs. I turned to Jessica sitting next to me. “What time is it? I left my phone at home.” Jessica whipped out her brand-new, ultra-expensive folding phone like it was a trophy and announced loudly. “Ten forty.” Just as the words left her mouth, our second-floor bathroom window creaked open. Arthur poked his head out, smiling as he called down to me. “Honey, the water is running. Stay out and play a bit longer!” I glanced over at Lily, who was currently sweating bullets on the monkey bars, and flashed him an OK sign. “Got it!” Arthur gave a polite wave to the group of moms before pulling the window shut. The women immediately began to swoon. “Your man is seriously the perfect husband. Handsome, great personality. I heard he made partner this year, right? That has to be mid-six figures easily.” “Mid-six? Try seven. A corporate attorney at Arthur’s level brings in millions. You can just kick back and enjoy the stay-at-home mom life without a single worry!” “He’s a high earner, comes home on time every day, cooks and cleans on the weekends, always smiling, no bad habits… Look at my husband. It’s like comparing dirt to the sky.” “I don’t care about the money. I just envy how deeply he loves you. I mean, look at that car crash. The man literally threw his own life away for yours!” The moms nodded in unison, their sighs thick with envy. Six months ago, Arthur and I were driving to pick up some potted plants when a semi-truck rear-ended us. Our SUV flipped and the front end instantly burst into flames. The driver’s side ended up facing the sky, so Arthur was pulled out by bystanders almost immediately. I was pinned underneath, completely trapped. As the flames grew wilder, the crowd began to back away in terror. Only Arthur rushed back. He pulled and tore at the twisted metal like a madman, his hands shredded and dripping with blood, his voice tearing as he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Save my wife! Please, God, somebody help her!” Less than five seconds after he managed, by sheer willpower, to drag me out of the wreckage, the car exploded in a deafening roar. Someone had caught the rescue on camera and posted it online. It went incredibly viral. The internet unanimously decided I must have saved the world in a past life to deserve a husband who loved me that much. Just thinking about that day made my eyes well up. Arthur always looked so refined and intellectual. I never imagined he could be so fearless, so primal, when it truly mattered. The accident left two fingers on his right hand permanently damaged, the tendons severed. He could no longer perform fine motor tasks. I cried until my heart ached over it. He just patted my head, offering a warm smile to comfort me. “It’s fine. I make my living with my brain anyway. I could lose two more fingers and it wouldn’t stop me from taking care of you.” Right now, amidst the envious sighs of the neighborhood moms, I nodded honestly. “Yeah. He really is the perfect husband.” 2 “My husband isn’t too shabby either, you know!” Jessica raised her voice to reclaim the spotlight. “He just got back from Paris and brought me a bunch of gorgeous designer dresses. Come on, let’s go to my place. I have to show you guys!” Jessica was in a classic May-December marriage. She spent every waking hour trying to prove how much her older husband loved her, desperate to show she married for romance and not for his bank account. I smiled and shook my head. “I’ll pass. I need to take Lily up for her bath. You guys go ahead.” Jessica, who loved comparing herself to me more than anything, immediately frowned. “Didn’t your husband just tell you to stay out a bit longer? Popping up to my place won’t take much time. You can’t even give me this little bit of face?” At 11:00 AM, I walked out of Jessica’s house. At 11:05 AM, I finally caught Lily, who was running wild by the slide, and tugged her arm to head home. She resisted at first. She begged for ‘just five more minutes’. I sternly refused, telling her the bathwater was going to get cold. Defeated, she went around saying pitiful goodbyes to every single one of her little friends. The circle of parents watched with fond amusement, sharing knowing smiles with me. At 11:08 AM, Lily and I reached the second floor. We bumped into Oliver, the bachelor living across the hall, who was just stepping out to take out the trash. His face flushed slightly as he greeted me. Lily grabbed his hand, asking in her sweet voice when he was going to help her build her new Lego set. As they spoke, I pulled out my keys and unlocked our door. At 11:09 AM, while Lily was still waving goodbye to Oliver in the hallway, I called out “Honey!” Nobody answered. I walked toward the bathroom. At 11:10 AM, a piercing scream ripped from my throat. Arthur’s pale face was submerged just beneath the surface of the water, his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling. He was already gone. 3 A lot of people came to the funeral. There were Arthur’s colleagues, his friends, neighbors from our estate, and even representatives from a charity organization holding a memorial wreath. That was when everyone found out Arthur had been quietly donating to an organization for underprivileged kids. Twenty thousand dollars a year. Over the years, his donations had exceeded a hundred grand. People whispered, their voices heavy with sorrow. “Such a good man. Heaven is blind. How could such a freak accident happen to someone like him? The good die young while the wicked live forever.” “He did so much pro bono work these past few years. He just made partner. He was telling everyone how he was going to build an amazing life for his wife and daughter. And now…” “Those two loved each other so much. How is Rachel going to survive this? She’s passed out a handful of times in just the last few days. Thank God the neighborhood committee ladies are keeping an eye on her.” “She doesn’t have an income, and they still have a mortgage. If Arthur had lived, they would have paid it off in a year or two. Things are going to be so hard for her now.” “The whole thing is just a tragic fluke. The cops said he knocked himself out, and the tub took twenty minutes to fill up enough to cover his nose and mouth. If he had just woken up, or if Rachel had come home earlier, he’d be fine. It was just awful timing.” Amidst the rustling whispers, I sat off to the side, my face ashen, staring vacantly at Arthur’s portrait. Over the past few days, I had been drowning in absolute agony. I had wept until my insides felt hollow, collapsing from exhaustion. Anyone who looked at me couldn’t help but pity the broken shell of a woman I had become. A lady from the neighborhood committee sat beside me, offering gentle words of comfort every now and then. Jessica walked over, her face painted with guilt. “Rachel, I am so sorry. If I hadn’t dragged you to my house and wasted your time, maybe… maybe Arthur wouldn’t have died.” By the end of her sentence, she was covering her mouth, sobbing aloud. I shook my head, my voice steeped in despair. “No. It has nothing to do with you. It’s my fault. I’m the one who told him to run the water early. I forgot my phone, which meant he had to open the window to call down to me. He slipped because of me. I promised I’d be home at eleven, but I dragged my feet and was ten minutes late. It’s all my fault. I killed him.” The committee lady quickly intervened. “Rachel, you absolutely cannot think like that! It was just a terrible alignment of the stars. Nobody could have stopped it. The police even said so themselves. It was an accident. A one-in-a-million tragedy.” That day, when I screamed, Oliver was the first one to rush inside. Realizing what had happened, he immediately blocked Lily from entering the apartment and helped me dial 911. After inspecting the scene and taking our statements, the police pieced together a rough timeline of the accident. 10:40. Arthur turned on the faucet and simultaneously opened the window to speak to me. Because the window was located right next to the tub and swung inward, he had to lean his body out at an awkward angle. When he pulled back to close it, he lost his balance, tumbling into the cast-iron tub and knocking himself unconscious. 10:40 to 11:00. The water slowly rose, inch by inch, until it submerged his head. 11:00 to 11:05. After five minutes under the water, Arthur suffocated to death. He never woke up. There were no signs of a struggle, no water splashed wildly on the tiles. 11:10. I came home and discovered the scene. During that window of time, from the moment Arthur showed his face at the window to the moment I arrived, no outsiders entered our building. There were no suspicious traces. The ruling was accidental death. Someone nearby shook their head and sighed. “When Death knocks on your door, you don’t get a minute to spare… Wait, who is that at the entrance? Why is she wearing such a heavy coat in this heat?” “Yeah, isn’t she sweating?” I sat there like a walking corpse, my head bowed, completely numb to my surroundings. “She’s walking straight toward Rachel.” “Is she one of those scammers asking for a handout? That’s crossing a line. This is a funeral, for God’s sake.” A pair of worn-out, gray women’s sneakers entered my field of vision. The style was ancient. There was a small, color-matched patch on the toe. They were coated in a fine layer of dust, whispering a silent story of how far they had walked. “Rachel. Do you know who I am?” A weather-beaten voice spoke. It was close. Right next to my ear. I slowly raised my head. Before me was the face of an elderly woman. Her skin was dry and deeply lined, her temples fading into white. Yet beneath her drooping eyelids, her gaze burned like a torch. In the sweltering heat of late summer, she wore an inappropriately thick wool-blend coat. One hand gripped a faded black handbag; the other held an old, battered metal thermos. “I am Martha. The mother-in-law you have never met.” I stared at her, my eyes hollow. My exhausted neurons slowly began to stretch, connect, and fire. My eyes suddenly widened. “Mom?” Martha gave a slow, deliberate nod. “I’m glad you recognize me.” The crowd immediately gathered around. “So this is Arthur’s mother. Oh, God, a parent burying their child. Please accept our deepest condolences.” “It’s good that you’re here. You can lean on each other. Now Rachel and Lily won’t be entirely alone.” Someone kindly offered to take Martha’s bag and thermos. She slowly shook her head, rejecting the help. She turned to look at Arthur’s portrait, then locked her piercing gaze directly onto me. “From the day I learned of my son’s death, I traveled without rest from Wyoming to get here, all to tell the police one single sentence.” She stared me down, her expression carved from stone. She articulated every single syllable. “You are the murderer who killed my son.” 4 After Martha delivered that line, she turned on her heel and walked away. Nobody could stop her. She appeared out of thin air. And vanished just as quickly. It was as if she had traveled across the country solely to spit those words in my face. The guests exchanged bewildered glances before clustering around to comfort me. “Rachel, the poor woman is just delirious with grief. Please don’t take it to heart. You can’t afford to let this upset you right now.” “Exactly. She’s an old lady from the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t know the facts. She probably heard some malicious gossip and took it as gospel. A good conversation will clear everything up.” “I’ve never even seen Arthur’s mother before. He dies, and suddenly she shows up? You don’t think she’s here to fight for custody or the inheritance, do you?” “I’ve never even heard of her! Rachel, that lady just said you two had never met. Are you absolutely sure that was Arthur’s mother?” I didn’t speak. My body felt so weak I was on the verge of collapsing. The committee lady handed me a cup of hot tea. “Alright, everyone, that’s enough questions. The most important thing right now is getting through the service and letting Rachel rest. Everything else will sort itself out.” I lowered my head and took a few sips of the warm tea. The fog in my brain began to lift slightly. Yes. Martha was indeed Arthur’s biological mother. Eight years ago, when Arthur and I got married, I met her for the first time through a video call. She had divorced Arthur’s father when Arthur was fifteen. She left everything behind to take a teaching job on a remote reservation out West. Mother and son were separated, going years without contact. After Arthur’s father passed away, Arthur had finally built a stable career. He tracked her down, wanting to bring her back to the city to care for her in her old age. She refused. She told him that when she chose to move to the mountains, she swore an oath never to leave that land. Over the years, Arthur made the long trek out to Wyoming twice to visit her. As for me, my only contact with her was a brief video call once a year on Lily’s birthday. In this moment, I was swallowed by a deep sense of confusion and bewilderment. I couldn’t understand why this woman, who had vowed never to step foot outside the rural West, had suddenly made this exhausting journey. Why would she hurl such a vicious accusation at me? Lost in my grief, I couldn’t make sense of it. After the funeral, Martha didn’t leave the city. She stayed. Naturally, she didn’t stay at my apartment. She rented a room in a run-down motel next to the train station. Late that night, a bright moon hung in the sky, looking down on the joys and sorrows of the mortal world. I sat alone, wiping tears from my face as I looked at a photo of Arthur. I made a decision. It didn’t matter why she had come. Whether it was for the child. The money. Or simply a terrible misunderstanding. She was still my husband’s mother. My daughter’s grandmother. I couldn’t just leave her to fend for herself. 5 The next day, I packed some daily necessities, fresh bedsheets, and a comforter. I knocked on Oliver’s door across the hall. When he saw me, his eyes flickered. He frantically tried to smooth his hair and adjust his shirt. I gently explained that I needed a favor, asking if he was free to give me a ride. “Of course.” “I’m free whenever you need me,” he said, looking earnestly into my eyes. Oliver drove Lily and me to the cheap motel by the train station. It was a dim, dilapidated building with a flickering neon sign by the door. Rooms: $30 a night. “Mommy, does Grandma live here? It’s so yucky. Let’s bring Grandma to our house.” Lily’s innocent voice chimed in. I let out a heavy sigh. “Grandma is a little bit stubborn, sweetie. She won’t agree to it.” Oliver walked over, carrying the heavy bags of supplies. “Rachel, this is too heavy. Let me help you carry it up.” I hesitated. “No, it’s okay. I’ve troubled you enough. Just wait for us down here.” A flicker of worry crossed Oliver’s face. He spoke softly. “After the things she said to you the other day, I don’t want you two getting into a fight while you’re alone. If I’m there, I can help keep the peace. Most importantly, we shouldn’t let Lily get scared.” I offered a bitter smile and nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” When I saw Martha again, she was sitting in the dingy room, fiddling with a smartphone. Seeing me standing in the doorway, she froze for a split second before standing up. Her eyes were completely unreadable. I took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “Mom. I know you definitely wouldn’t want to come stay at the house, so I brought you some things. Whatever misunderstandings you have about me, please, for Arthur and Lily’s sake, don’t reject this.” I glanced over my shoulder at Oliver. He carried the bags inside, set them down gently, and silently stepped back out into the corridor. Martha remained standing, totally silent. She neither accepted nor rejected the gesture, simply watching me with a face devoid of emotion. Lily walked up to her timidly and spoke in a small voice. “Grandma, why won’t you come live with us? Mommy says Daddy went on a really far business trip and won’t be back for a long time. Will you come live at our house and wait for Daddy with us?” Martha’s eyes softened instantly. Her calloused hand gently stroked Lily’s hair. The deeply wrinkled skin around her eyes turned red. “Be a good girl, Lily. Grandma has something very important she needs to do. For now, I can’t go home with you.” “Grandma, I miss Daddy. Do you miss Daddy too?” “Yes. Grandma… misses him very much.” She looked calm and composed, but the tremor in her voice betrayed the emotions she was desperately trying to bury. I turned my head and whispered something to Oliver. He immediately stepped in, coaxed Lily with a gentle voice, and led her downstairs. Only Martha and I remained in the room. This little motel was sandwiched between towering skyscrapers. Only the faintest sliver of daylight managed to filter through the grimy window. The roaring noise of the city outside only magnified the suffocating silence inside this cramped space. “I’ve reported it to the police.” Martha stared at me calmly. I paused, leaning against the dim doorway, and let out a soft sigh. “As for my involvement, the police cleared me a long time ago. I had no time to commit a crime, no method, and absolutely no motive. Arthur’s death brings nothing but ruin to my life. Why would I ever hurt him? Mom, I genuinely don’t understand why you are so convinced I wanted my husband dead.” “So that’s why you came today?” Martha’s voice was remarkably steady. “You’re curious. You want to know how I, living thousands of miles away, know that you are the true culprit who murdered Arthur. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” A wave of sorrow and exhaustion washed over me. I wanted to speak, but it felt entirely pointless. “Since you are so stubbornly convinced that I am a murderer, we will just let the police give you their final conclusion.” I spoke in a hollow voice, turning to leave. I had barely taken two steps into the corridor when Martha’s voice boomed from behind me. “Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure before.” “But you came today, and you brought that young man with you. You wanted to trick me into thinking you and that man were having an affair, didn’t you? You wanted to bait me into sending the police down that rabbit hole so they would find absolutely nothing.” “Now, I am completely certain you are the killer.” The moment the last syllable dropped, the corridor plunged into a dead silence. I slowly turned around. There, in the narrow, shadow-draped hallway. I met her eyes in absolute silence.

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I was at the community clinic with Leo and Lily for their vaccinations, and while we waited, I idly flipped through their health records. Leo, blood type A. Lily, blood type B. I thumbed back a page, double-checking my brother Owen’s blood type. Type O. His wife, Sarah, was Type A. Father Type O, Mother Type A – a child could only be Type A or Type O. Type B? Impossible. Unless… Lily’s biological father was someone else entirely. I snapped the health record shut. The nurse’s voice calling out numbers buzzed in my ears, distant and muffled. Sarah was squatting nearby, wiping drool from Lily’s chin. She looked up and smiled at me. “Skylar, what are you spacing out about with that book?” I offered a smile in return. “Oh, nothing. Just checking how much weight they’ve gained.” That secret, I kept to myself. For three years, it remained hidden. 01 Back home after the shots, the whole family was gathered in the living room, doting on the kids. My mom lifted Leo high, laughing delightedly. “Look at Leo’s eyebrows! Exactly like Owen’s when he was little!” My dad chimed in, “Lily takes after Sarah, with those big eyes. She’ll be a real beauty someday.” Sarah leaned back on the sofa, a perfectly poised smile playing on her lips. “They each take after one of us, Mom and Dad. It’s perfect, isn’t it?” I sat in a corner, nursing a glass of water, saying nothing. They each take after one of us. She’d uttered that phrase a hundred times. Whenever a relative or friend remarked that “the two children don’t look very much alike,” she’d just wave it away with that line, light as air. Everyone would just smile, no one thinking much of it. My brother, Owen, emerged from the kitchen, bringing out a dish. His apron was stained with grease, and sweat beaded on his forehead. “Sarah, try this sweet and sour ribs. I added the cherries you love.” Sarah didn’t even glance at it. “Ribs again? Can’t you ever make something different?” Owen paused, his smile faltering slightly. “How about I make fish tomorrow?” “Whatever.” She picked up her phone, dismissing him. My mom quickly intervened. “Sarah’s busy with work, and her appetite isn’t great, Owen. Don’t take it to heart.” Owen nodded, silently placing the ribs near Sarah’s hand. I’d witnessed this scene countless times over the past three years. Owen cooked, washed dishes, took care of the children, fixed leaky pipes – he did everything. And Sarah? She’d come home from work, sprawl on the sofa, scrolling on her phone. She’d occasionally hold Leo, but she was exceptionally attentive to Lily. The clothes she bought for Lily were all designer brands. Leo wore Lily’s hand-me-downs. “Boys are sturdy, they can wear anything,” she’d explain. I never said anything. But I remembered clearly: Leo was the older brother, Lily the younger. He was born a full four minutes before her. What kind of logic was it for the older brother to wear his younger sister’s cast-offs? After dinner, I helped clear the dishes. Owen was in the kitchen washing a pot, his voice low as he spoke to me. “Skylar, Sarah hasn’t been in a great mood lately. Don’t pay it any mind.” I looked at the red marks on his hands, splattered by hot oil. “Owen, is she good to you?” He paused, then laughed. “We’re a couple, right? Just a long adjustment period.” Three years, and still adjusting. I put the last bowl in the cupboard, asking no more questions. As I was leaving, changing my shoes by the door, Lily toddled over and hugged my leg, looking up and calling for “Auntie.” I knelt down to look at her face. Big eyes, a delicate nose, a pointed chin. She certainly resembled Sarah. But her earlobes… They were completely attached to her face, small and fused. Owen, had detached earlobes. Sarah, also had detached earlobes. Two people with detached earlobes, having a child with attached earlobes? Genetically speaking, the probability was close to zero. I stroked Lily’s head and stood up. “Auntie’s leaving now, be a good girl.” I stood in the hallway for a long time. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to speak. I couldn’t. What if I was wrong? What if there was another explanation? But I’d studied genetics for seven years, and I couldn’t find any “other explanation” that could simultaneously account for both the blood type and the earlobes. The elevator doors opened. I stepped inside, pressing the ground floor button. For three years, I had been waiting for the right moment. 02 I remembered everything clearly from three years ago. Sarah was Owen’s college classmate; they dated for five years, and she became pregnant in their second year of marriage. The whole family was overjoyed when she was expecting, especially my mom. “It’s twins! Our family lineage must have some good karma!” Owen practically worshipped Sarah. He quit a high-paying project team with long hours, coming home on time every day to cook. Sarah suffered severe morning sickness during her pregnancy, and Owen would hold a basin by her bedside at night. She craved dumplings at three in the morning, and he’d ride his electric scooter across four neighborhoods just to find them. The day the children were born, Owen cried like a baby outside the delivery room. Two boys, seven pounds two ounces and six pounds eight ounces, mother and sons healthy. The whole family was radiant with joy. No one noticed the fleeting moment of panic in Sarah’s eyes in the delivery room. I did. Back then, I hadn’t considered the blood types, but I remembered her expression freezing for a second when she saw Lily. Then she quickly smiled. “They both look just like you,” she told Owen. During her confinement period, I went home to help with the babies. Sarah’s mother also came – an impeccably dressed, sharp-tongued woman. She called Owen “young Owen,” her tone imbued with an undeniable sense of superiority. “Young Owen, Sarah has never known hardship since childhood. You’ll have to take good care of her.” Owen smiled and agreed. Sarah’s mother only held Lily, barely touching Leo. I asked her about it once. “Auntie, Leo’s fussy too, could you help soothe him?” She gave me a dismissive glance. “The older one takes after your family, you soothe him. The younger one is like our Sarah, I feel for her.” Even then, I felt something was off. They were just twins; did they need to be so distinctly separated? But what truly made me suspicious was the first month celebration. One of Sarah’s female friends arrived, dressed elegantly, driving a white BMW. When she picked up Lily, she froze for a full three seconds. Then she quickly walked to the hallway, grabbed Sarah’s arm, and whispered something. I only caught the last few words as I passed by. “…Are you out of your mind?” Sarah yanked her hand away, her face pale. “Stay out of it.” I never forgot that incident. I remembered it for three years. That friend never appeared at Owen’s house again. Sarah said she had moved abroad. But I’d seen her checking in at a local Japanese restaurant on Sarah’s social media just a month before. She hadn’t moved abroad. She’d been blocked by Sarah. I collected these fragmented pieces, like a puzzle, fitting them together towards a conclusion I didn’t want to believe. Until that day at the clinic, when I saw the blood types in the health records. The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. The picture was complete. And it was ugly. 03 After the children turned two, Sarah changed. Or rather, she stopped pretending. Owen’s construction business had been going for six years; he’d made some money in the early years and bought a two-bedroom apartment in the city center, titled in both their names. There was still a $32,000 car loan outstanding. Sarah worked as an administrator at a real estate company, earning just over seven thousand dollars a month, but her spending speed was three times her salary. First, she upgraded her phone to the latest iPhone model. Then came the bags; a $1,200 Coach was replaced by a $3,600 Celine. My mom would occasionally grumble, and Sarah would shoot back with a smile. “Mom, if a woman doesn’t treat herself well, who will?” My mom would fall silent. Owen, meanwhile, still woke up at six every morning, left for the construction site at seven, and returned home around eight in the evening, still needing to cook and put the kids to bed. One weekend, I visited their house and found him asleep on the kitchen floor, leaning against the cabinets. The soup in the pot was still bubbling. Sarah was in the bedroom, watching TV with a face mask on, the volume cranked up. I turned off the stove and woke Owen. He rubbed his eyes, his first words being: “Is the soup ready? Sarah’s waiting for it.” My nose stung, and I couldn’t hold it back. “Owen, aren’t you tired?” “No.” He got up and stirred the soup. “A man just has to shoulder it, right?” He wasn’t tired, but my heart ached for him. Three months later, on a Saturday, I went to see my nephews as usual. Opening the door, the sight inside stunned me. The wedding photo on the living room wall had been taken down. In its place was a solo artistic photo of Sarah – in a long white dress, by the beach, smiling brightly. “Sarah said the wedding photo was ugly, so she changed it,” Owen explained. On the coffee table, Leo was gnawing on a teething biscuit. Lily sat in Sarah’s lap, wearing a navy blue children’s suit jacket with a small gold emblem on the collar. I recognized that emblem. Burberry Kids. One piece, at least two thousand. And Leo? He wore a faded cotton t-shirt with a thumb-sized hole at the elbow. I knelt down and picked Leo up. “Sarah, Leo’s clothes need changing.” Sarah didn’t even look up. “Boys wear out clothes quickly; it’s a waste to buy anything too good.” “Lily’s a boy too.” She finally looked up at me, her gaze momentarily cold. “Lily is delicate. Better fabrics are less likely to cause allergies.” I didn’t say anything more. But as I left that day, I passed by the spare bedroom door and saw a partially opened delivery box. A corner of something was visible inside – a pair of children’s shoes, with the New Balance logo on the box. The size was Lily’s. Next to it was a shopping bag from “Rainbow Heights Baby & Toddler.” I knew that store. The one downtown, specializing in imported baby products; a single pair of socks cost ninety dollars. There was a receipt in the bag; I glanced at it while pretending to tidy up. Total amount: $4,312. The memo section read: For Lily only. Four thousand three hundred. Owen had borrowed five thousand dollars from me last month, saying he needed to pay Leo’s preschool tuition. One month’s tuition was eighteen hundred. He had to borrow even eighteen hundred. She spent four thousand three hundred on Lily in one go. I pushed the corner of the delivery box back in and gently closed the door. Walking out of the apartment complex gate, the wind was strong. I stood by the roadside for a long time before I managed to flag down a taxi. The driver asked where I was going. I gave the address, then turned to stare out the window. The taxi driver probably saw my face in the rearview mirror and said nothing more. 04 The turning point came on the children’s third birthday. Owen had decorated the house with balloons and streamers, and ordered a two-tiered buttercream cake with a “3” candle. The whole family was there: my parents, my aunt and uncle’s family, and Sarah’s mother. The two children, dressed in new clothes, ran around the living room. Leo’s new clothes were bought by Owen online: a pure cotton plaid shirt, tag price $89. Lily’s new clothes were bought by Sarah, and you could tell at a glance they weren’t cheap. When it was time for cake, Sarah’s mother held Lily on her lap, feeding her bite by bite. Leo reached for the cake, but Sarah’s mother blocked him. “Wait, let your brother eat first.” Leo’s hand retracted, watching longingly. I cut a piece of cake and handed it to Leo. Sarah’s mother glared at me. “This child is too impatient, no manners at all.” My mom quickly interjected, “My dear relative, they’re just kids, they’re all greedy.” Sarah’s mother huffed, saying nothing more. But what happened next made me completely unable to sit still. When it was time to blow out the candles, Sarah pulled out her phone to take pictures. “Lily, sit here, yes, turn your face this way.” She took seven or eight shots, changing angles three or four times. Then she put her phone away. Leo was still standing by the cake, his face smeared with frosting, smiling and showing his two little canine teeth. “Mommy, take my picture.” Sarah looked down at her phone, as if she hadn’t heard. “Mommy, please take my picture.” Leo tugged at her sleeve. Sarah impatiently pushed his hand away. “Your face is all covered in frosting, it won’t look good. Don’t fuss.” Leo’s smile slowly faded. The three-year-old’s eyes slowly welled up, but he didn’t cry. He just quietly took two steps back and stood in the corner of the table. My fork in my hand was twisted out of shape. My aunt leaned over and whispered, “Skylar, isn’t Sarah treating the two children too differently?” I didn’t answer. But that night, after I got home, I sat at my desk for a full hour. In the drawer lay the blood type data I had copied from Leo’s health record a year ago. A and B. My brother, Owen, Type O. Sarah, Type A. Father O, Mother A – a child could not be Type B. Unless Lily’s father carried the Type B blood gene. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Three years. The moment I had been waiting for, perhaps I shouldn’t wait any longer.

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Three years into our marriage, my successful entrepreneur wife cheated. When I found out and asked for a divorce, she brought me to my parents’ house. She gathered my parents, my brother, my uncle, and his family, then calmly declared: “I cheated, and Adrian wants a divorce. You all need to talk some sense into him!” Her brazen shamelessness utterly shocked me. But in the next moment, my shock doubled. 1 My dad laughed, looking at my wife, Amy. “No, Amy, there’s no way you could cheat. You’re such a sweet person. No way, absolutely not!” He then turned to me, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with you, as a husband, making jokes like that about your wife? Apologize to her at once, go home with her, and stop messing around!” My mom and brother chimed in, echoing his sentiments. “Exactly! Amy’s not that kind of person, how can you just make things up?” “Adrian, stop it. Apologize to Amy. This isn’t funny!” I was momentarily stunned. “I’m not messing around. This isn’t a joke.” My voice was tight with suppressed fury. “Amy Vance cheated. I have the chat logs, the pictures…” Amy had left her laptop open, logged into her messaging app. When I went to close it for her, I saw her messages. At the top of her chat list were two men. One called her “Wife,” the other called her “Baby.” Their conversations dated back half a year. The content was explicit, with many graphic photos. Most damning were the hotel records. Both men, mentioned in the chats, had met her no less than fifteen times each. As I scrolled through and saved them, I felt a wave of nausea, my hands shaking with rage. This was no joke! I was about to pull out my phone to prove it. But my uncle’s son, my cousin, stepped forward. 2 He grabbed my hand, fixing me with a steady gaze. After a brief pause, he snatched my phone away. “No… no, that’s impossible. You’re just talking nonsense!” He gave me a stern look. “Cousin, just focus on your marriage, okay? Don’t be like those overbearing men you see online!” My mind immediately filled with questions. Amy was the one who cheated, she was the one who wronged me. I was simply stating the facts, trying to prove them. Yet, my family members, one by one, were looking at me with cold eyes. Not only did they disbelieve me, they blamed me, and they stopped me? Why? Before I could even voice my confusion, Amy spoke. “You don’t have to defend me. I did cheat.” Her voice was calm, almost detached. “I brought Adrian here so you could talk some sense into him. He’s set on a divorce, but I don’t want one. I still have feelings for him.” A wave of nausea hit me. Forgetting my bewilderment, I immediately erupted. “Feelings? What a load of crap!” I snarled, my voice raw. “If you had feelings, would you have started cheating over half a year ago, with two men at the same time? If you had feelings, would you be playing the ‘new bride’ role out there every other day, calling them ‘husband’ with such glee?” I practically spat the words. “Cut the deep affection act, you despicable wretch. Aren’t you afraid of being struck by lightning, or hit by a car the moment you step outside?!” I cursed venomously. But midway through my tirade, my dad stepped forward. He raised his hand and smacked me hard on the shoulder. “Adrian Hayes! What’s wrong with you? Can’t you speak properly? You just started yelling curses and hexes!” He glared at me, his face red with anger. “You’re not acting like a man at all! Shut your mouth and stand back!” He roared, yanking me roughly behind him. Beside him, my mom and brother, in perfect sync with my dad, also tried to pull at me. A deeper surge of confusion washed over me. In a fit of anger, I broke free, glaring at them. “Are you all out of your minds?!” I demanded, my voice shaking. “I’m your son! I’m your family! You’re not helping me; instead, you’re helping this rotten person! You’re truly insane!” 3 My dad looked uneasy. He forced a placating smile at Amy, seemingly afraid of upsetting her. At the same time, he quickly raised a hand, trying to cover my mouth. I struggled, pushing him away. Seeing he couldn’t silence me, and my face etched with uncooperative fury, my dad grew more agitated. Grimly, he motioned to my mom, my brother, and my cousin. They grabbed me, dragging me forcefully aside. He then gave a meaningful look to my uncle and aunt, signaling them to lead Amy away. Once they were a safe distance, out of Amy’s earshot, they spoke through gritted teeth, their voices hushed. “Adrian Hayes! Don’t you dare make a scene here! If you upset your wife and mess up your brother’s job, I swear I won’t forgive you!” My cousin’s face was equally grim, his jaw clenched even tighter. “And my job too! Don’t you dare mess that up!” Looking at their angry faces, I finally understood their strange behavior. My cousin and my brother worked at the company Amy and I had built. They dared not offend Amy; they were afraid of losing their jobs. Amy brought me back here, confidently expecting them to talk sense into me, precisely because she knew this. A deep sadness welled up in my heart. Everyone was gathered. Amy announced her infidelity. Less than thirty seconds passed. My family members exchanged no words. But in that brief time, they instinctively thought of their jobs. Silently, implicitly, they chose to belittle me. To demand that I admit my mistake, that I swallow my pride and endure. Amy saw this, and she exploited it. Family. This was my family. To hell with family! My voice trembled. “For the sake of your jobs, you’re twisting black into white, ganging up on me like this? Do you even have a conscience anymore? Don’t forget, when you were unemployed, sitting at home, I was the one who brought you into the company!” 4 “I’m the one who gave you jobs, I’m the one you’re related to by blood, not that garbage woman!” The economy had been tough; my brother graduated straight into unemployment, couldn’t even get an interview. My cousin was laid off when his company downsized, and he was driven to despair sending out resumes. At the time, Amy and I had successfully started our own company. We had opened it, even built a small factory. We happened to need manpower, and my brother and cousin’s specializations fit, so I brought them into the company. What was originally a good deed had now become a knife aimed at me! I spoke faster, growing more and more furious, eventually almost roaring the words. But instead of feeling even an ounce of wrongdoing, they merely sneered at me. “You brought us into the company, and that’s your accomplishment? Aren’t you thinking a little too highly of yourself?” “The company belongs to Amy, the factory belongs to Amy, and Amy pays our salaries!” “The one who truly calls the shots, the one with the credit, is Amy, not you!” “Exactly. We’re already being generous by not calling you a sugar baby. You’re just her appendage, enjoying the good life thanks to her.” “Still haven’t figured yourself out, huh? Truly believe you’re something special now!” “Alright, stop losing your mind! Don’t you know what the economic climate is like right now? Don’t you know how hard it is to find a job?” “For your brother’s and cousin’s jobs, what’s wrong with you compromising a little? Besides, you’re not really suffering. She’s beautiful and she earns good money; you’re living a comfortable life!” “You’re a sugar baby and you’re still not satisfied? Always wanting more, wanting this and that. I don’t know how you were raised to be so greedy!” My voice suddenly grew hoarse, as I gritted my teeth and spoke. “I didn’t rely on her!” I insisted. “We built the company together! In fact, my contributions were even greater than hers…” My dad scoffed, cutting me off. “You’re my son. I know what you’re like. A good-for-nothing man, no talent whatsoever!” 5 Watching the sneer on my dad’s face, my heart clenched. Right out of college, I’d landed an eight-thousand-dollar salary during the worst economic downturn, all by my own ability. After that, it only climbed higher. Ten thousand, fifteen thousand, twenty thousand, thirty thousand… I spent a significant portion of that money on my family. My brother’s computer, phone, bicycle… My dad’s teapot, tea leaves, fishing rods… My mom’s necklace, gold bracelet, cosmetics… At that time, I didn’t even know Amy Vance! My abilities were evident to them! But now, I was talentless. I was a good-for-nothing, a sugar baby, dependent on a woman… My dad paused, then softened his tone. “Alright, alright, don’t be angry. Whether you love her or not, whether she cheated or not, it doesn’t matter. What matters is keeping your life together! She didn’t even try to hide it from you; she’s already been very good.” My dad nudged my cousin’s shoulder, and they exchanged a glance before my cousin left. My dad continued, “…You cannot get this divorce. And your brother’s and cousin’s jobs absolutely cannot be lost. Go back and sweet-talk your wife. Make her give you a son! That way, even if she goes out to ‘play’ again later, you can tie her down with the child, and you won’t have to worry about your life falling apart.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve already sent your cousin to bring her back. Just lower your head, admit your mistake, and we’ll consider this matter settled…” As he spoke, footsteps approached, and a smile spread across my dad’s face. He shifted his gaze, then pushed my back. “Amy, we’ve talked to him. He knows he was just confused for a moment. This divorce is off. Remember to live a good life from now on, okay?” My dad’s hand pressed harder into my back. He even winked at me, the meaning clear: What are you waiting for? Hurry up and bow your head, admit your mistake! 6 Amy stepped closer, nodded to my dad, and reached out to take my hand. “Alright, let’s go home. I’ll try to control myself…” I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, twisted away, and slapped my dad’s hand off me. Family? They didn’t deserve me. And that rotten woman? Even less so! No one could bully me! No one! As my dad stared at me in disbelief, I raised my hand and smacked Amy hard across the face. Crack! The crisp sound of the slap made both Amy and my dad freeze. Amy clutched her cheek, staring at me blankly. “You… you dared to hit me?” I didn’t answer, nor did I stop. I brought my knee up, delivering a vicious kick to Amy’s body. The Amy who had just questioned me let out a gasp of pain, immediately doubling over like a cooked shrimp, sent sprawling to the ground by the force of the kick. I then stomped my foot onto her face, causing blood to gush from her nose and mouth. I pressed down, grinding my heel into her face as she wailed, one hand clutching her face, the other her stomach. “Control yourself? You think you can control me?!” My voice was a low snarl. “Anyone who wrongs me, not one of them will get away with it!” I had barely finished speaking when my dad’s roar suddenly erupted. He lunged at me, grabbing my hair and yanking with all his might. “Ah! Adrian Hayes, you’re really asking for it! How dare you lay a hand on her, and with such brutal force…” My dad yelled, delivering a smack to my face. He’d always been a physically active man. Instantly, blood appeared on his rough, dry palm. He’d scratched my face. But perhaps caught up in the fury, I felt no pain. Yet, the blood on his fingertips and the coppery taste in my mouth told me it wasn’t a light blow. Without a moment’s hesitation, I twisted, raised my hand, and smacked my dad squarely across the face. 7 In my dad’s stunned expression, I grabbed his hair in turn. With a pull and a yank, I slammed his head against Amy’s. Thud! The sound echoed, and both of them tumbled to the ground, their faces contorted in agony. I watched them coldly. “Anyone who wrongs me, not one of them will get away with it!” My brother and mom were startled. Their steps, which had been moving forward, hesitated, then retreated. Beyond their fear, their faces were etched with anger. Glaring at me, my mom instinctively ordered my brother, “Call the police! Call the police!” The precinct was nearby; the officers arrived quickly. They surveyed my blood-streaked face, my dad’s swollen forehead, and Amy, whose forehead was swollen, her nose and mouth bleeding. An officer gestured. “Alright, everyone, let’s go down to the station!” My dad had recovered somewhat. One hand clutched his forehead, the other held back the officer. “You take this bastard, lock him up. My wife isn’t going! My wife needs to go to the hospital first…” The officer glanced at Amy, then grunted, “Alright.” He then surveyed the faces of everyone else, his gaze finally settling on me. “One man against a whole family, huh? What kind of person are you, with such nerve? Let’s go!” I followed the officer’s gaze, sweeping over the faces of my dad, my brother, my aunt and uncle, and my cousin. Every single one of them looked at me with seething resentment. No wonder the officer immediately recognized them as a family unit and saw me as the outsider. But… “I’m that man’s son. His biological son.” All the way there, my thoughts drifted. I remembered a colleague from a previous job. I recalled a conversation I’d had with him. He had just finished a phone call, and on the other end was his father.

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In the black market, I fell for twin male incubi but could afford only one. I chose the younger brother, who had the better build. He hated me—resisted in bed, kept running back to the market to complain to his twin. “Brother, I can’t stand her. She’s plain, poor, and life with her is misery.” His brother, collared and chained in a steel cage, would soothe him gently: “She is kind. She won’t hurt you. Go back—don’t worry her.” I stood listening silently. When my eyes met his gentle gaze, my heart jumped. I sold my house and bought the older brother too. We moved into a basement with one bedroom. The older brother, Caelus, offered to sleep in the closet. “Master, this is fine. I was only bought because of my brother.” I stopped him, pulled out a contract, and handed it to the one who despised me. “It’s crowded here,” I said. “Why don’t you leave? Then you won’t suffer with me anymore.” He stared, eyes slowly reddening. “You… you only want my brother now? Not me?” 1 The incubus I had taken in was disobedient. He had bitten me again. This morning, as I was getting ready, I saw the bite mark on my neck had turned a deep, angry purple. It hurt to the touch. I tried to tell myself it was nothing, that it would fade in a few days. But as I looked at my plain, ordinary face in the bathroom mirror, I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up. Kael, he despised me. He despised everything about me. My looks, my voice. Even the old house I lived in, he found it utterly repulsive. We had argued last night. In his rage, the truth had come out. “Seraphina,” he had spat, “you were the one who spent all your savings to buy me. I didn’t choose to come with you. If I had a choice, I would never have chosen you as my master, to be crammed into this shithole!” “So in the year you’ve been with me,” I had asked, a desperate hope clinging to my voice, “have you felt nothing for me at all?” “Nothing,” he had answered, his voice firm, his gaze sharp and unwavering, even as he was tied to the headboard. “Not a single thing.” The last sliver of hope I had been holding onto shattered. I splashed my face with water, took a deep breath, and wiped away the tears that threatened to fall. Then I took the foundation from the counter and carefully dabbed it over the mark on my neck. 2 Kael was still tied up in the bedroom. I had planned to untie him before I left for work. When I opened the door, he was curled up on the rug, his head down, long lashes trembling. He was probably pretending to be asleep. I knelt beside him and began to loosen the knot around his wrists. “Kael.” My voice was soft. He didn’t respond, his eyes still tightly shut. “I’m leaving for work. I’ll untie you, but can you promise me you’ll stay here and wait for me to come home?” “Heh. If you don’t want to untie me, just say so.” Kael finally opened his eyes, his expression impatient. I managed a weary smile and untied him. He seemed surprised, his sharp, almond-shaped eyes staring at me in disbelief. “You’re really letting me go? I didn’t promise to wait for you.” He used to run away all the time. But with his contract in my possession, he could never get far. It was just a hassle to track him down every time, which was why I had started tying him up. I nodded, too tired to argue. “I know. Just remember to take the keys.” 3 I had bought Kael at the black market last winter. There was no special reason. I just thought he was beautiful. Tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. A perfect body. At the time, I had also been interested in his brother, Caelus. They were twins, and they looked almost identical. The only difference was that Kael was perfectly healthy, while Caelus had a slight limp. But my savings were only enough for one of them. I had thought, an incubus is a companion for life, so I didn’t try to save a few bucks. I bought the most expensive one. But a year later, my quiet life was anything but happy. In fact, it was filled with more trouble than ever. Looking back, I regretted it. Would things have been different if I had chosen Caelus? But that shady shop had a strict no-returns policy. I sat at my desk, staring into space for a long time, then I checked my bank account on my phone. Only a few thousand left. I sighed. It was pointless to think about it. 4 “Hey, Sera, the boss is taking us out for dinner tonight. You in?” As the workday was ending, my colleague, Lena, came over and tapped me on the shoulder. I shook my head. She let out a knowing “oh.” “Right,” she said with a grin, “I forgot. You’ve got that handsome pet at home. He’s probably already made you dinner.” Kael, make me dinner? I’d be lucky if he hadn’t torn the place apart. I forced a smile, about to explain, but Lena was already off on another tangent. “It’s so great! Now I’m even more motivated to make money. I’m going to buy myself a beautiful man to take care of me, too.” I couldn’t bring myself to say anything more, just a word of caution. “When you do, make sure you buy from a reputable place that allows returns. Don’t ever go to the black market.” “Got it!” Usually, I was the first one out the door. But today, half an hour after closing time, I was still at my desk, tidying up, scrolling through my phone, checking the security camera feed from my apartment. Of course. Kael was gone again. Frustrated, I decided not to rush home. I walked down the street, turned into an alley, and after a few more turns, I found myself, almost unconsciously, back at the black market. 5 This place was a chaotic mix of the desperate and the depraved. It was filthy and disorganized. Small-time vendors selling beast-kin were everywhere. Some, sickly and weak, were crammed into small iron cages by the side of the road, their horns sawed in half. It was a pitiful sight. “Hey, miss! Take a look! A rare male deer-kin! Name your price!” I had only glanced at him for a second, but a burly merchant was already calling out to me. I was broke, and as much as my heart ached for the poor creature, I could do nothing but hurry on. Following the faint trail of memory, I found the shady shop from last year. It was still in business. The owner was dozing in a chair by the entrance and didn’t stir as I walked in. I slowed my steps and tiptoed to the back courtyard. Just as I stepped inside, I heard a familiar voice. “Brother, has anyone tried to buy you recently?” It was Kael. So this was where he ran off to. To see his brother. 6 I stayed hidden behind the door, listening. “A customer came last week. Looked at me twice, but he never paid. I’m a cripple. No one wants me.” “Brother, if it wasn’t for you saving me when we were kids, your leg wouldn’t have been injured by the traders. I was the one who was playing around and ran off. I’m the one who got you into this mess.” “Brother, I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay, Kael. It’s not your fault.” Caelus was locked in a large iron cage, a metal collar around his neck. He gripped the bars, and even though it was a struggle to breathe, he still managed a gentle, reassuring smile for his brother. “I’ve never blamed you. I just want you to be happy. You’re free now, not a piece of merchandise. Forget about the past.” Kael squatted outside the cage, his arms resting on his knees. He let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not really free. The woman who bought me is so paranoid I’ll run away, she’s always watching me.” Hearing him mention me, my hand clenched into a fist, my heart pounding in my chest. “She’s so annoying. I’d rather be here than with her.” Kael’s brow furrowed. “She’s not pretty, and she’s poor. The clothes she buys me are cheap rags. They’re so uncomfortable.” “It’s only been a year. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with her. It’s going to be miserable…” Before he could finish, Caelus cut him off. “It won’t be. It’s normal for things to be a little tight at the beginning. The woman who bought you, she seems like a kind person. She won’t mistreat you in the future.” “Kind? What’s kind about her? She ties me up all the time. Look, I still have marks on my wrists.” Kael pulled up his sleeve to show the faint red lines around his wrist. “I’ve had enough. You don’t know what my life is like. If I could, I’d trade places with you. You can deal with that ugly woman.” “She’s your master. It’s her right to discipline you. And she’s not ugly. Don’t talk nonsense.” “It’s the truth. I’m not talking nonsense.” 7 His words were like daggers, piercing my ears and lodging in my throat, a painful, bitter lump. I couldn’t listen anymore. I turned to leave. My foot hit an empty can, and it clattered across the pavement. Their heads snapped in my direction. Caelus saw me first. A small smile touched his lips, a gentle, almost submissive gesture. Kael’s face paled. He stood up, looking awkward and flustered. “You… what are you doing here?” I tried to keep my voice steady. “I came to take you home.” But before he could answer, I turned and fled. 8 “Hey, Seraphina.” Kael caught up to me, grabbing the corner of my shirt. “What’s the rush?” I ignored him, prying his fingers off my shirt and continuing to walk. But my mind was filled with the image of Caelus’s small, placating smile. He was different from Kael, after all. He had a small beauty mark under his left eye, and when he smiled, it would dance upwards. “Were you standing there the whole time?” “Did you hear what I said to my brother?” And Caelus’s leg… he wasn’t born with it. It was an injury he had gotten while saving his brother. My heart ached for him. He was so much more pitiful than Kael. “Hey, I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?” The man’s voice behind me rose in pitch, shattering my thoughts. I couldn’t help but frown. “Yes, I heard. I heard everything.” Kael’s breath hitched. A flicker of unease crossed his face, and his voice dropped. “I was telling the truth… you do tie me up all the time.” “Yes, it’s the truth. I’m ugly, I’m poor, I abuse you. In your eyes, I’m a monster.” For once, I didn’t argue. I just agreed with him. Kael fell silent. Maybe he was angry. He lowered his eyes and didn’t speak again. On the way home, I kept glancing up at the tall, young man beside me. He had handsome features, sharp and well-defined. Even among the incubi, a race known for their beauty, he was stunning. But the black hoodie he was wearing was cheap and worn, just like mine, pilling from too many washes. It was true. If he hadn’t been bought by a poor woman like me, his life would have been much better. If he resented me for it, then so be it. 9 Back at the old, dilapidated house, I didn’t tie Kael up as I usually did, or lecture him about running away. I just took a quick shower and locked myself in my bedroom. My mind was a mess. But not because of Kael. Knock, knock, knock. In the middle of the night, someone knocked on my door. “Seraphina, are you still awake?” It was Kael, his voice muffled by the door. “What is it?” “Open the door, and I’ll tell you.” I stayed in bed, my eyes closed. When I woke up again, a shadow was looming over me. Kael had found the spare key and let himself in. He was just standing there, by my bed, watching me. I don’t know how long he had been there. I sat up, pulling the covers with me, and huddled against the wall. “What do you want?” His throat moved. His lips parted. His tail twitched nervously behind him. “Um…” “I’m sorry.” The words came out in a rush, as if they were burning his tongue. I yawned and waved a hand. “It’s fine. I forgive you. Now get out.” He didn’t move. I patted the pillow beside me. “You want to sleep here?” For the past year, even though he hated physical contact with me, we had always slept in the same room. We had never slept apart, not even when we fought. Maybe my sudden coldness had thrown him off. As I said it, Kael lifted the corner of the covers and took off his pajama top. Then, a firm pressure on my waist. He wrapped himself around me, his tail pressing against me in a placating gesture. “I’m tired. Just lie still and sleep.” I shifted away from him. Kael immediately got annoyed. “Fine. It’s not like I wanted to touch you anyway.” I scooted closer to the edge of the bed, putting more distance between us. He got even more agitated. “And you’re so fake.” He tugged at the covers and turned his back to me. 10 On Saturday morning, I went to a real estate agency. The old house was in a good location. It was run-down, but it was convenient for commuting and close to a school. It was probably worth a lot of money now. Last year, my plan had been to use all my savings to buy the most beautiful incubus I could find, then sell the old house and get a smaller, nicer apartment. A comfortable life. But Kael was so disobedient, so restless, and I was so busy with work, that I had put it off. “Ms. Lin, your house is in a prime school district. We estimate it’s worth around six hundred thousand. Are you looking to sell quickly?” The agent greeted me with a warm smile. I shook my head. “I’m not in a hurry. I’m still thinking about it.” “Of course. Take your time. We’re always here if you need us.” I took the hot tea she offered and sat on a nearby bench. Just then, a young woman walked in, a handsome beast-kin boy trailing behind her. She was looking to rent. The woman had a loud, boisterous voice and was haggling with the agent. Her beast-kin companion stood quietly by her side, occasionally tugging on her sleeve and whispering. “Sister, the rent here is so expensive. Let’s not.” “The place we have now is fine, really. I’m strong. I can walk a little further after work. It’s good exercise.” He was so considerate. I was filled with a mixture of envy and a familiar, bitter ache. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Kael. [Hey, where are you? I’m hungry.] No greeting, no concern. Just a demand. [If you’re hungry, eat some ramen. I’m out taking care of something.] I had no expectations of him anymore. [That’s not the kind of hungry I mean… It’s a physical hunger. You ignored me last night! Did you forget?] [I’m really busy. Can’t you just hold on for a bit?] [Why should I have to hold on? What did you buy me for, then?] His tone was sharp and accusatory. I hesitated for a moment, then swiped to turn on “do not disturb.”

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I’m a coward, through and through, but the System tasked me with drugging my older brother. I didn’t have the guts. So instead, I handed him a glass of hot water. My brother took a sip, a flush creeping up his neck. “What did you put in this? It’s hot.” My knees went weak with fear. “Corbin, I swear, it’s just hot water.” At my words, he leaned in, pressing me against the wall. “Such a naughty girl,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Weren’t you supposed to drug me?” 1 I’m just a cannon fodder side character, but my brother, Corbin, is the main villain. He finally saw the female lead, Isabelle, when he showed up for my parent-teacher conference. Corbin narrowed his eyes in their direction, a predatory gleam he didn’t bother to hide. That’s when the System in my head finally came online. [Host, welcome. Your current mission is to eliminate the villain.] I nearly gasped out loud. “Are you insane?” I hissed under my breath. “Corbin could kill me with one finger.” As I argued with the System, I glanced at Corbin’s hand on my exam paper. His fingers were long and pale, tapping impatiently on the page. He turned his head and smiled at me. I immediately clamped my hand over my mouth, terrified he might have heard me. “What is it, brother?” He chuckled softly, and one of those elegant fingers pointed to a name I’d scribbled on my scratch paper. “Asher. Who’s that?” My heart stuttered. That was the male lead, a name the System had given me earlier. I’d just jotted it down without thinking. For some reason, even though Corbin was smiling, he didn’t look happy at all. I swallowed hard. “He’s our class president. Uh, he’s a nice guy.” My brother just nodded, saying nothing. The teacher announced that this was our last parent-teacher conference, with the college entrance exams just two weeks away. Corbin told me to study hard. Then his gaze drifted past me to Isabelle and Asher. “But it doesn’t matter if you do poorly,” he murmured, his voice dropping low. “I’ll just send you abroad.” His warm breath ghosted over my skin, and a fresh wave of fear washed over me. Corbin never spoke to me this closely. And that wasn’t the reassuring tone of a brother offering a safety net. It was a warning. If I didn’t study, he would send me away. Cut me off from everyone here. 2 My legs felt like jelly. The System had to mentally prop me up. [What are you scared of? You’re a cannon fodder character with the all-powerful System backing you up!] The moment it finished, Corbin turned back, his gaze sharp. “Your scratch paper. I’m confiscating it.” Under his direct, unnerving stare, both the System and I felt our courage crumble. [Why do I get the feeling he can see right through us?] the System muttered. Only when Corbin was a good distance away did the System find its voice again. [How dare he snatch our girl’s scratch paper! That villain! He’s got what’s coming to him! Pull yourself together, Lily! From this day forward, he’s going to start targeting the main characters.] I wiped a bead of cold sweat from my brow. I’d seen what Corbin was capable of. Once, I’d made plans with a friend to go on a trip to the coast. Corbin had forbidden it. I went anyway, sneaking out behind his back. But the moment I stepped onto the deck of the boat, he was there, one step behind me. In the end, not a single captain in the harbor would take me. I trailed home behind him like a scolded puppy. He didn’t yell. He even bought me a new dress and asked what I wanted for dinner. But the next day, he had me transferred to a new school. I always thought it was because our adoptive parents had been so harsh on him growing up, giving him a strange need to control me. If he’d set his sights on Isabelle today, I couldn’t imagine what he would do to get her. The System, sensing my thoughts, also broke into a sweat. [Come on, Lils, chin up!] It patted my shoulder. [Ace this mission, and I’ll get you a first-class, happily-ever-after ending.] I’d have to be alive to enjoy it. After the transfer, Corbin wouldn’t let me live in the dorms. But the suburban mansion was too far from the new school. His perfect solution? He bought me an apartment right next to campus. Bodyguards followed me home after class every day. A hot meal was always waiting for me. Each time I walked through the door, my heart pounded. The first thing I always did was check for a pair of men’s dress shoes by the entrance. Today, there were none. The System and I both breathed a massive sigh of relief. I hummed a little tune as I ate. “Honestly,” I chattered to the System, “I’m just a throwaway character. How am I supposed to eliminate him?” “You’re so tough, why don’t you do it yourself? Admit it, System, you’re scared of him too, aren’t you?” “It’s not that I’m not trying. I’m just… terrified.” [Once your exams are over,] the System declared, [I have a death-and-destruction trio planned for him.] It said it with such grim, villainous certainty that I dropped my chicken wing. I turned to grab a napkin and found myself staring into a pair of dark, bottomless eyes. 3 Corbin had just stepped out of the bathroom, a single towel knotted around his waist. His torso was lean and powerful, and droplets of water clung to his skin. Like the chicken wing, I felt my world spin. My mouth opened and closed, but I couldn’t figure out how to explain my nonsensical rambling. In the end, Corbin spoke first. “Is the chicken good?” I nodded dumbly. He walked past me, grabbed his phone from the counter, and headed upstairs. “Don’t eat the one that fell on the floor,” was all he said. [Aaaaaah!] the System shrieked in my ear. [How is he so hot even when he’s half-naked?!] I was a complete mess, my nerves shot. [No, really, I don’t want him to die! This villain’s character design is my absolute favorite.] The System was still swooning. It poked me mentally. [Hello? Earth to Lily? Did he scare you speechless?] I burst into tears, clinging to the System for comfort. “Boohoo, do you think he heard me?” The System rubbed its hands together. [Probably not. Besides, all of Corbin’s attention is on the female lead right now. He won’t notice a minor character like you.] After the exams, Isabelle planned to get a part-time job. Coincidentally, the hotel she applied to was owned by Corbin’s company. The System told me to follow her, observe Corbin’s every move, and stop him from carrying out his “evil plans.” What? Me? Who was I? I was supposed to spy on Corbin? And stop him? The System explained that in the original plot, Corbin gets drunk and drags Isabelle into a hotel room. What a trashy, tasteless plot point. Isabelle got the front desk job, while I was still at home doing nothing. Finally, after the System threatened to self-destruct, I went to Corbin. “Brother, I want to get a job.” Corbin was reading. He set down his gold-rimmed glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s wrong? Is your allowance not enough?” His features were sharp, and when he looked at me, I couldn’t tell if it was me or the System that was shaking more. 4 The System, which had been cheering me on moments ago, had already logged off in a panic. “Brother,” I stammered, “I want to gain some experience. I could even work at one of your companies. Please, brother.” I felt like I was about to drop to my knees. Corbin didn’t speak. He just lifted his gaze and watched me, a lazy, calculating look in his eyes. I couldn’t meet his stare, so I just bowed my head and repeated, “Please, brother.” The System popped back up. [I think the villain likes it when you call him ‘brother.’ Try it a few more times, maybe he’ll agree.] I bit my lip and forced myself to look him in the eye. “Can I? Corbin… brother.” A sudden cough escaped him, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Finally, he grunted a quiet “mm.” Back in my room, the System and I clung to each other for support. We both agreed that the look in Corbin’s eyes could have devoured a person whole. Silent, direct, and unnervingly dark. In the end, Corbin arranged a position for me as an assistant lobby manager at the hotel. Isabelle was working the front desk. I felt a little awkward about my cushy job, so I often helped out at the desk, always on high alert for the moment Corbin would appear and drag someone away. That plot point was just so awful. But to be fair, Corbin really was going after the male lead’s family business. He’d been swamped lately. The recent harbor acquisition that was all over the news was a power struggle between him and Asher’s family. Isabelle, meanwhile, was living her peaceful life at the front desk. Both Corbin and I were so busy that we hadn’t seen each other in two weeks. Today was the weekend, and I was off. But Isabelle had to work. I was sound asleep when Asher called me. It was Isabelle’s birthday. He wanted to surprise her. And he wanted me to cover her shift? I almost laughed in his face. I told him no. But the System kicked me out of bed, insisting that today was a crucial plot point. I was so done. Did the main characters’ key moments always have to ruin our sleep? And to top it off, as fate would have it, my birthday was the same day as hers. 5 Fine, fine. What’s a cannon fodder’s birthday compared to the female lead’s? I propped my chin in my hand, covering Isabelle’s shift late into the night. Seriously, I was the assistant manager. The front door slid open, and a tall, slender figure cast a long shadow. Without looking up, I called out in a tired voice, “Welcome, how can I help you?” A smirk played on Corbin’s lips. “I need a room.” Huh? After a moment of silence, the long-unseen Corbin repeated, his voice serious this time. “I said, I need a room.” But I could hear the rasp in his voice, the tell-tale sign of too much alcohol. I tilted my head and looked behind him. No one. I handed him the keycard and said softly, “Brother? Did you come all this way just to sleep?” He ignored me. His eyes were hazy, his breathing shallow, and he swayed as he walked. I escorted him to the elevator. He stood silently behind me, his gaze fixed on me. Like a predator watching its prey. The System wasn’t with me. It had gone off to “join the fun,” to watch Asher’s big confession to Isabelle. Great. My cowardly advisor was gone. At the hotel room door, I held out my hand. “Mr. Reed, this is your room. I’ll just be—” Before I could finish, a wave of warmth washed over the back of my neck. Corbin yanked me into the room. His large hand closed around my throat. I was scared to death. “Brother! It’s me,” I squeaked. He just shook his head. “That’s the wrong name for me. We’re not brother and sister.” While I was still processing that, he fastened a magnificent necklace around my neck. “I gave you a gift,” he said, his voice deep. “What are you going to give me in return?” Corbin’s dark eyes swept over the desk: the bottled water, the tea bags, and the condoms. It suddenly hit me. This matched the plot the System had told me about. Corbin had mistaken me for Isabelle. His intense presence was overwhelming, our faces so close I could feel his breath on my lips. “Brother!” I yelped in terror. “I’m Lily! Don’t do anything stupid! “You’ve got the wrong person!” 6 Corbin blinked, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. Then he smiled. “If you’re not Lily, then who are you? I’m thirsty. Be a good girl and make your brother a cup of tea.” He loosened his tie, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he glanced at me one last time before sauntering toward the bed. So that’s what he wanted. Tea. I was a horrible person. How could I have thought… that? My face burned. I risked a peek at Corbin. And caught him just as he was shrugging into a silk robe. The System had been right. This character design was a masterpiece. The most skilled sculptor must have spent a lifetime carving the exquisite lines of his body, a perfect blend of beauty and raw, worldly desire. As if sensing my gaze, Corbin leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. He raised an eyebrow. “Do you like what you see?” The alcohol seemed to have softened his sharp edges, replacing them with something much harder to define. I stammered, “Mr. Reed, your tea is ready.” Corbin took the cup and made a “tsk” sound. “What’s wrong?” I asked timidly. “Is it too hot?” He grunted. “This doesn’t make sense.” I was lost. “What doesn’t make sense?” Corbin: “Why is it that I came all this way to celebrate Miss Lily’s birthday, and she won’t even call me ‘brother’ once?” He came to celebrate my birthday? Not for Isabelle? Or did he come for Isabelle, find her gone, and decide to celebrate with me instead? My face, betraying me, flushed again. I mumbled a quiet “brother.” Corbin’s smile widened, his voice a husky, intimate drawl. “Good girl.” For a moment, I thought, maybe a person like this wasn’t the irredeemable villain the System made him out to be. Just then, the System’s voice shrieked in my ear. [Aaaaaah! Corbin killed someone!]

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Nathan Lynch fell in love with a scholarship student. Someone even more broken, more pitiful, than I had been. And the love he gave her was grander, more dazzling, than anything he had ever given me. So I gave birth to our child, took enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life, and walked away. Seven years later. A small boy, caked in mud and with a bloody scratch on his cheek, knocked on my door. “They said I’m a bastard,” he whispered. “Can you tell them I’m not?” 1 Just one look. That’s all it took to recognize him as my son, mine and Nathan’s. His face was a perfect, sculpted blend of our features. Seven years. It had been exactly seven years since I had given birth to him, taken the money, and left. We should have been strangers. I knelt to his level. “Do you know who I am?” He nodded slightly, his voice as soft as a whisper. “Mom.” I froze. Nathan had actually told him about me? After a moment of silence, I stood up. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.” I had no interest in helping a stranger prove he wasn’t a bastard. He looked at me, no tears, no tantrums. He just nodded again, his small fists clenching the hem of his shirt. I closed the door. Through the security camera, I saw him curl into a ball in the corner of the hallway, hugging his knees. He looked so small, like a crumpled-up piece of paper. Footsteps echoed down the hall. He shrank further into the corner, burying his face in his knees. I stared at the screen for three minutes. Then I opened the door. “Come in.” 2 I didn’t have any children’s clothes. After I washed him up, I wrapped him in a blanket and set him on the sofa. I placed a pink cartoon band-aid over the scratch on his clean face. “Elliot.” I had learned his name while I was bathing him. “How did you get hurt?” He looked down. “They said I don’t have a mom. That I’m a bastard. I got angry, so I fought them.” “You lost?” He nodded. Of course, he lost. That’s why he had come crying to me. “When did you find out where I live?” “A long time ago,” he mumbled. “But Dad told me not to come find you.” The Lynch family had connections all over the city. Finding my address would have been easy. But Nathan, at least, had the decency to know he shouldn’t disturb me. I gave a noncommittal “hmm.” “He was right. You shouldn’t have come.” His head snapped up, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Are you going to send me away?” I nodded and picked up my phone. “Yes. Call your father. Tell him to come get you.” Elliot didn’t say anything. He just buried his head in the blanket. I poked his shoulder. “Hey.” He didn’t move. I poked him again. Still nothing. That stubborn streak… he got that from me. I dialed the number I had tried so hard to forget. Seven years, eleven digits, and I hadn’t forgotten a single one. Ring… Ring… Ring… I tried three times. No answer. Elliot lifted his head, his voice muffled. “Dad’s sick right now. A lot of doctors tied him up. They’re giving him shots and medicine. He can’t answer the phone.” I paused. “Sick?” The moment the word left my lips, I felt like a fool for prying. What did I care if Nathan Lynch was sick? The boy nodded. “Dad gets sick a lot. He gets really scary.” “Then what about your mother? Have her come get you.” “You are my mother.” “You know who I’m talking about,” I said, exasperated. He looked down again. “Dad won’t let me call her Mom.” I frowned. What was Nathan playing at? If he had married Amelia, why wouldn’t he let Elliot call her Mom? And why would he let Elliot come looking for me? Just then, a loud rumbling sound broke the silence. Elliot was hungry. I sighed and went to the kitchen. 3 I had shrimp and beef from yesterday’s grocery run. I quickly threw together a couple of simple dishes and set them on the table. The meal was quiet. I couldn’t help myself. I placed a piece of meat on his plate. “Eat up. It’ll help you grow.” He was seven, but he was small for his age. Was it because I had given birth to him prematurely? Was that why he was so frail? When it was time for bed, he just stood there, staring at me with those big, hopeful eyes. I sighed and pulled back a corner of the covers. He scrambled in, whispering, “Thanks, Mom.” I let out another sigh. I was probably becoming desensitized to the word “Mom.” Whatever. If the kid wanted to call me that, let him. “Mom, I’m scared of the dark. When it gets dark, Dad changes.” I held him close. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Soon, his breathing evened out. Kids fall asleep so quickly, like flipping a switch. But I couldn’t sleep. Suddenly, there was this small, milk-scented child in my bed, a child who shared my blood. My mind was a chaotic mess. Time ticked by. Just as I was about to drift off, I heard a choked sob. It was Elliot. Tears were streaming down his face. “Dad… I’ll remember Mom… I won’t forget her…” “Don’t cry, Dad… I can remember Mom…” He hiccupped a few more times, then snuggled closer and fell back asleep. I stared at the ceiling, wide awake for the rest of the night. 4 The next morning, I was making breakfast with dark circles under my eyes. His sleepy murmurs from the night before echoed in my head. Nathan crying? Telling him to remember me? What did it all mean? The bowl in my hand slipped and shattered on the floor. I quickly knelt to pick up the pieces, and a sharp edge sliced my finger. Blood welled up. “Mom, you need a band-aid.” A small, sweet voice piped up. Before I could react, a pink cartoon band-aid was pressed over the cut. It was the one from his face yesterday. I looked at the band-aid, then at him. He was carefully smoothing it down, making sure every edge was secure. A strange feeling washed over me, a bittersweet ache I couldn’t name. After breakfast, I went to the convenience store downstairs and bought him a new set of clothes. Once he was dressed, he stood by the door, as if he knew what was coming. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home.” He froze, then latched onto the doorframe with all his might. “I don’t want to go back.” “If I don’t take you back soon and they call the police, I’ll be charged with kidnapping.” “They won’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Dad’s sick. Everyone’s too busy with him to care about me.” “That doesn’t matter. You’re going.” I reached for him, but he shrank back. “Elliot.” I was starting to get angry. Why would he want to stay with me when he had the Lynch family to go back to? Did he think they would mistreat him? His small hands were still clamped onto the doorframe, his knuckles white. Looking at him, I was suddenly reminded of myself, seven years ago. I had stood at the entrance to the Lynch mansion just like this, clinging to the doorframe, not wanting to go in. Not wanting to see Nathan and Amelia together. But in the end, I went in. Because it was the only home I had. 5 The route was still so clear in my mind. It didn’t take long to drive to the Lynch estate. Coincidentally, as I was dropping Elliot off, the whole family was in a frenzy, searching for him. And leading the charge were Nathan and Amelia. I hadn’t seen them in seven years. Nathan looked… haggard. Was it because of his illness? Amelia saw Elliot and rushed forward, throwing her arms around him. “Elliot, where have you been? Mommy was so worried!” Elliot pushed her away. “You’re not my mom.” Amelia froze. She looked up, her gaze shifting past Elliot to me. A flicker of hatred crossed her eyes. She stood up, her face transformed into a mask of polite cordiality. “Jessica. It’s been a long time. How have you been?” I didn’t answer. I had always treated her as if she were invisible. My silence seemed to infuriate Nathan. He stepped forward, placing himself between me and Amelia. “Please, show my wife some respect.” I suddenly felt a tightness in my chest. It was just like before. I was five months pregnant with Elliot. He had taken Amelia’s hand and said to me, “I’m sorry. This is my wife.” When I had tried to slap her, he had stopped me, using those exact same words. “Please, show my wife some respect.” Seven years, and not a single word had changed. I couldn’t be bothered with Nathan. My eyes went past him to Elliot. I gave him a little wave. “Bye-bye.” I turned to leave. A hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. It was Nathan. “You’re…” He frowned, as if trying to place me. “You look so familiar.” I almost laughed. How convenient. He was a very important person with a very short memory. Seven years, and he had forgotten me completely? I pulled my hand away. My sleeve slid up, revealing a small section of my forearm. It was covered in a dense network of scars. I froze. “Honey.” Amelia came over and took Nathan’s arm. “Let’s go check on Elliot.” She pulled him away. After a few steps, he glanced back at me. I stood there, watching them disappear through the door. 6 My mind was still a mess as I left the gated community. I felt like something significant had happened in those seven years. “Jessica?” A cheerful voice called my name. I turned to see a familiar face. Maya. We had become friends when I was still Mrs. Lynch, one of the few genuine friendships I had made in that circle of wealthy wives. “What are you doing here? I thought you would never…” She trailed off, but I knew what she meant. If it hadn’t been for Elliot, I probably would have never set foot in this place again. I forced a smile. “Just passing through.” “Perfect timing. Come over for some tea. We need to catch up.” 7 Back in my own apartment, I stood in the entryway, not turning on the lights. My head was spinning. Maya’s words replayed in my mind, overlapping with Elliot’s. It seemed Nathan really was sick. Ever since I left. He had started drinking heavily, trying to drink himself to death. When he was drunk, he would lock himself in a room and smash things. Once, he nearly died from alcohol poisoning. An ambulance had to be called. After that, the Lynch family, fearing gossip, had a full set of medical equipment installed in the house and hired a private doctor to be on call 24/7. But how could something like that be kept a secret? It had become an open secret in the community. Everyone knew what it meant when an ambulance pulled up to the Lynch mansion. So everyone assumed that Nathan didn’t love Amelia at all. But during the day, they were as affectionate as ever. When the other wives talked about Amelia, it was always with a tone of contempt. “She’s poor and has no skills. I don’t know what Nathan sees in her.” “Do you think he has some kind of charity complex? He only seems to go for poor girls.” When I was with Nathan, I had been a scholarship student, too. Many people had mocked him behind his back for his “charity case.” But I had proven them all wrong. I had transformed myself from a poor student into a woman worthy of the Lynch name. Amelia, it seemed, lacked that ability. But love is irrational. I could be the better woman, but I wasn’t Amelia. And that was all that mattered. I shook my head, trying to clear it. What did I care if Nathan was sick? If he was unhappy, I should be happy. 8 After that, my life returned to its usual quiet rhythm. But sometimes, when I saw children playing in the park, I would get an urge. I wanted to go up to them and ask, “Have you ever bullied a boy named Elliot Lynch? Have you ever called him a bastard with no mom?” Elliot’s visit had been like a pebble tossed into a still lake, creating a few ripples that quickly faded. I thought that was the end of it. Until one night. My phone rang. An unknown number. I answered. “Mom.” It was Elliot’s voice. Young, and choked with tears. “Mom, come quick! Dad’s sick again!” A loud crash echoed through the phone, like something had been smashed. Then, a cacophony of voices, shouting and crying. My body moved before my brain could catch up. I grabbed my car keys and ran out the door. When I reached the Lynch mansion, it was lit up like a Christmas tree. The neighboring houses were also lit, with shadowy figures visible in the windows, watching the commotion. Elliot was already waiting for me at the gate. With him there, the security guards didn’t dare stop me. I followed him through the grand entryway and into the elevator. The elevator reached the third floor and the doors slid open. A vase came flying straight at us. I instinctively pulled Elliot behind me and dodged. The vase smashed against the elevator door, shattering into a thousand pieces. The living room was in ruins. Nathan stood in the center of the chaos. His eyes held a ferocity I had never seen before. Amelia was huddled in a corner, her face streaked with tears. “You drugged me!” Nathan roared, pointing at her, his voice hoarse. “Who are you? Why are you torturing me?!” “Why did you tear me and Jessica apart?!” I was completely stunned. But Elliot, he let go of my hand and, trembling, walked over to Nathan, taking his hand. “Dad.” His voice shook, but he tried to keep it steady. “Dad, I brought Mom back.” “See? I didn’t forget what she looks like.” Nathan looked down at him. The fierce look in his eyes softened. He slowly looked up at me. The madness in his eyes faded, replaced by confusion, by a desperate struggle to recognize me. Then, a flicker of light. “Jessica…” He staggered toward me, not even noticing the broken glass he was stepping on. “Jessica, I don’t want to forget you.” “Don’t go.” I was frozen, my mind still reeling. Before he could finish, a sound, half-laugh, half-sob, echoed through the room. Amelia, still in the corner, her face a mess of tears, was staring at Nathan. “Why?” Her voice was raw, as if it took all her strength to speak. “Why do I have the System, and I still can’t make you love me?” “You torture yourself, you bring yourself to the brink of death, just to break free from its control.” “I’ve tried so hard! I’ve tried everything!” She suddenly started laughing, tears streaming down her face. “Why can’t I have the one thing I want?!” “Why?!”

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I was out shopping for shoes with my best friends. “You know that rumor about… well-endowed guys?” “You mean, like, eight inches?” “Who could even handle that!” I was bent over, fumbling with the strap of a high heel, only half-listening. “Definitely not me,” I chimed in. “Three inches is my absolute max. Usually, one to two is perfect.” My friends went dead silent. My boyfriend, who had apparently walked up behind me, was also silent. What? Is it embarrassing that I can’t walk in stilettos? 1. It was the weekend, and I’d dragged my two best friends, Sarah and Beth, to the mall to hunt for clothes. We were in the middle of trying on heels when their conversation drifted over to me. “You know that thing they say about some guys?” “Of course!” “Is it true? Like, eight inches?” “Totally. I heard it can be as long as your forearm!” “Damn. Who could possibly handle that!” I was bent over, trying to buckle a delicate strap, only catching bits and pieces. I added my two cents without thinking. “No one, right? Three inches is my absolute max. Usually, one to two is perfect for me.” The two of them suddenly stopped talking. I looked up, confused. “What’s wrong?” They exchanged a look. “Joey, are you serious?” Sarah asked. “Yeah.” I’ve barely worn heels my whole life. The super-high ones are a total non-starter. They stared at me in disbelief. “Uh, honey, I think you misheard,” Beth said, leaning in. “We’re talking about that.” “What ‘that’?” “You know,” she waggled her eyebrows, “the other kind of inches.” I nodded. “Right. So am I.” Heel inches. What else would I be talking about? They just gaped at me. “Your standards are… remarkably low,” Sarah finally managed. It’s just a pair of shoes. Why do they have to be so judgy? Remembering some of the hideous styles that used to be popular, I kept complaining. “And I absolutely hate those super thick, chunky ones. They’re just so ugly.” A blush crept up both of their necks. “Well, ugly or not, they all kind of feel the same, right?” “Yeah,” Beth giggled. “As long as it gets the job done, who cares what it looks like?” I shook my head vehemently. “No way. It has to look good and feel good!” They both froze. “Hold on. How good can a one-inch-er possibly look? Or feel?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What do you mean? A nice, slender one in a pale pink can be gorgeous. And it’s practical and comfortable.” “Forget it,” Sarah sighed dramatically. “There’s no explaining good taste to you.” Their expressions were a colorful mix of pity and confusion. I was about to laugh at them when I caught a reflection in the mirror. My boyfriend, Liam, was standing right behind me. His face was a thundercloud. What’s his problem? Is being unable to wear high heels really that big of a deal? 2. Liam had come to pick me up. Today was our third anniversary. We had plans to see a movie and… well, we’d booked a hotel room. After all this time, our physical contact had been limited to holding hands, hugging, and kissing. I hadn’t gotten much further than that. I was first drawn to him because he was such a gentleman. In a world of greasy pick-up artists, he was a breath of fresh, clean air. I just hadn’t realized he was too much of a gentleman. Three years, and I was still a virgin in this relationship, left to drool over his rock-hard abs from a distance. It was, frankly, boring. I’d almost broken up with him over it a while back. Luckily, he’d pulled back from the brink at the last second, saw the error of his ways, and promised we could finally move on to the next level. After saying goodbye to my friends, I’d lost all interest in shopping. I grabbed Liam’s hand to lead him out of the store, but he didn’t budge. His expression was dead serious. “Joey, do you really not like anything in the six or seven-inch range?” Do guys care about women’s shoes now? “Yeah, I don’t. Not every girl does. It’s normal.” “But why not?” “It’s uncomfortable.” “You’ve tried it?” “Of course I have. I’ve tried four-inch, even five-inch ones. It’s absolute torture. My limit is my limit. One inch is the most comfortable.” His face instantly darkened. His voice went cold. “When was this?” What was happening? Why did he care so much about this? I thought for a moment. “I don’t know, since I started working, I guess. I’ve tried them on and off.” “In the three years we’ve been together, you’ve tried them?” “Yes.” His fists clenched at his sides. He looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and pure, unadulterated rage. “Joey, how could you… behind my back? How could you do this to me?” Wait, what? I can’t even try on high heels by myself now? What century is this? Do I need his permission to decide how high my shoes are? Now I was getting angry, too. “What I do is my own business!” I retorted. “This is who I am! If you can’t handle it, then maybe we shouldn’t be together!” Talk about ruining the mood. My anniversary excitement had completely evaporated. I stormed off, leaving him there. He just stood, frozen, his shoulders slumped as if he’d been dealt a fatal blow. Was he for real? I wasn’t being unreasonable, was I? This was clearly his problem. He needed to take a long, hard look at himself. 3. What a boring, rigid man! Maybe breaking up was for the best. This was all so pointless. The next morning, I woke up to a barrage of missed calls and over a hundred texts from Liam. [Why aren’t you answering?] [You’ve decided to break up with me, haven’t you?] [You’re the one who did something wrong, so why am I the one being punished?] [Do you have any idea how much this hurts?] [Does this kind of thing mean nothing to you?] [How can you talk about it so casually?] [Why would you do this to me?] [You know how much I love you.] [Open the door.] [I’m outside your apartment.] [Okay, you’re right. It was my fault.] [Just please don’t ignore me.] [I’m begging you.] [Please open the door.] [I’m losing my mind. The pain is unbearable.] [I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you.] [I’m the one who’s wrong. It’s my fault for being so boring.] [I asked around. Everyone said I’m too old-fashioned and conservative, and that’s why you did it.] [I don’t blame you anymore. I don’t have the right to.] [I’m useless.] [I’ve thought it over. From now on, you can do whatever you want. Try as many as you want. I can accept it.] [Just please… don’t leave me.] … Well, he certainly processed that quickly. And his apology seemed sincere. Good. I was satisfied. Alright, we don’t have to break up. But wait, was he still outside my door? I opened it and gasped. Liam was sitting slumped against the wall, reeking of alcohol. The floor around him was littered with empty beer cans. At the sound of the door, he slowly lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. “Joey… you’re finally talking to me?” Oh my god. Had he been sitting there all night? I quickly pulled him to his feet. He was limp, practically hanging off me, but his hands pressed me tightly against his chest. His voice was a raw, broken whisper. “Joey… do you not love me anymore?” I’d never seen him this vulnerable. My heart felt like a fistful of wet cotton—heavy and suffocating. Damn it. Why did I fight with him over something so stupid? Look what it did to him. And we’d wasted a perfectly good anniversary night. A wave of guilt washed over me. I hugged him back. “I still love you. Don’t think crazy things.” “Are you still mad at me?” “No, I’m not mad.” He held me even tighter, his voice catching. “So we’re not breaking up?” A man who was normally so cool and composed, now begging me so humbly… who could resist that? My heart melted into a puddle. I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Right. We’re not breaking up.” He let out a shaky breath, then asked meekly, “Do I smell awful? Can I… use your shower?” Seeing him like a little broken puppy, I wanted to eat him alive. And he was asking permission? He could join me in the shower if he wanted. 4. By the time he came out of the shower, I had a bowl of noodles ready for him. They must have been terrible, because he just kept his head down and ate in silence. “Is it that bad?” He shook his head, a weak smile twitching at his lips. “No. I was just thinking… I didn’t realize you were so experienced.” He must be talking about the high heels again. I waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that’s nothing. A few pairs here and there, it’s no big deal.” His smile became a little stiffer. “And the experience was… good?” “Some were okay, some not so much. If they’re too hard, they really hurt. But I think the most important thing is the size.” His knuckles whitened around his chopsticks. His voice dropped. “So I guess you wouldn’t like seven inches, then.” “Definitely not. That goes without saying. I’d run a mile at the sight of one. Terrifying.” His face went pale, and he ducked his head even lower. Is he okay? Maybe he’s hungover. I told him to go rest in my bedroom for a bit. After I cleaned up, I climbed into bed and snuggled into his arms, and we watched TV together. I loved these quiet moments with him. I could turn my head and see the sharp line of his jaw, his sexy Adam’s apple. So handsome. My heart began to flutter. I couldn’t help myself. I pulled his head down and kissed him. His eyelashes trembled, and he slowly closed his eyes. The kiss started with me, but he quickly took control. My body grew softer, his breathing more ragged. I suddenly remembered what was supposed to happen last night, and my mind started to wander. My fingers slyly slipped under his shirt, squeezing his firm abs. “Babe,” I whispered, “want to try now?” His whole body went rigid. He pushed me away in a panic. “I—I just remembered I have a work report I haven’t finished. I should go.” The click of the front door closing echoed in the room. It took me a second to process. Did I just get rejected? What the hell? He was clearly turned on. He was totally into it. This made no sense. Was he worried he wouldn’t be at his best after not sleeping all night? Okay, fine. I can understand that. A man’s pride and all. I was just being impatient. There’s always next time. 5. We both got busy with work after that. Soon, it was the holidays. We’d already agreed to spend it with my family so he could finally meet my parents and relatives. Everyone loved him. They thought he was a great guy—good character, good personality, a successful career. They felt I was in good hands. So, a few days into the new year, my parents left for a three-day trip to visit relatives in the countryside, leaving the two of us alone in the house. This was a golden opportunity. It had been a while since Liam and I had done more than a quick kiss or hug. With the house to ourselves, I made a point of crawling into his bed every night. The excuse was to watch movies and play games together. The reality was that I had ulterior motives. I would deliberately press against him, trying to make him lose control. But he would just grit his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead, and refuse to cross the line. I had no idea what he was holding out for. He’d already promised we could take the next step! On the last night before my parents were due back, I decided I couldn’t wait any longer. I opened a bottle of my dad’s special herbal liqueur and challenged Liam to a drinking contest. My real goal was to get him drunk. The problem was, he didn’t get drunk. I did. After just two glasses, I was dizzy and talking nonsense. He ended up carrying me to bed. The second my head hit the pillow, I was out. My heart was full of regret, but I was too far gone to get up. I had a series of wild dreams. In them, Liam and I were tangled together, lost in passion. He held my head in his hands, kissing me so hard I couldn’t breathe. My lips were sealed, my lungs burning for air. It felt so real that it was like I actually couldn’t breathe. I groggily opened my eyes and was instantly wide awake. Liam was actually kissing me. His body was scorching hot. His warm breath traveled from my lips down to my neck. His hand trembled as it traced the skin at my waist, his touch a mixture of restraint and desperation. It suddenly clicked. The drink we had tonight… it was my dad’s “special” liqueur. Was it… an aphrodisiac? This was the first time I’d ever seen him this out of control. A thrill shot through me. I dropped the act. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my body responding to his. He froze. His dark eyes locked onto mine, swirling with raw desire. I gently kissed his eyelids. “Liam…” That was all it took. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He captured my head again and crushed his lips to mine. Tangled breaths, burning skin, two people lost in chaos. As we kissed, my hand started to explore downwards.

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