Category: English

1 “Be good. When I’m back from my shift, we’re getting married.” My girlfriend was a fire captain; after seven years together, we were finally engaged. The night before our wedding, a massive fire left her severely burned. She fell into a coma after rushing into a collapsing building to save a boy. “Dylan, you’re young—don’t waste your life waiting,” her parents begged me to end it. I refused, quit my high-paying job, and cared for her day and night for three painful years. Our town called me the devoted partner of legend. Until she woke. Claiming amnesia, she remembered only Tedd, the boy she’d saved. She glared at me with suspicion, saving all her warmth for him. “Who are you? Why are you in my room?” A news alert lit my phone: her hospital discharge, live—where she proposed to Tedd. “Tedd, I want to forget the past. I only want a life with you.” I looked at her empty bed and the torn engagement agreement. With a bitter laugh, I tallied three years of medical bills, nursing fees, and lost wages, then sent her everything—itemized—with my lawyer’s note: “Captain Garrison. Seven years together, three years of care. With damages and lost income, you owe me $2.1 million. Amnesia doesn’t erase debts.” Less than ten minutes after the text was sent, my front door was practically being pounded off its hinges. I took my time finishing my morning coffee before getting up to open it. Rebecca’s entire family stood on my porch. Rebecca herself was fiercely shielding a fragile looking Tedd in her arms. “Dylan! Do you have a soul?! Rebecca just got out of the hospital and you are harassing her with this insane bill?!” Her father’s voice was shrill. He raised a hand, fully intending to slap me across the face. I did not flinch. I just tapped my phone screen to wake it up and held it in his line of sight. “Mr. Garrison, my porch cameras are rolling. I really do not mind putting you on the local evening news if you swing.” His hand froze in midair. He was shaking with blind rage. “What is this garbage you sent my daughter? Over two million dollars? Why don’t you just rob a bank!” I looked at him with dead eyes. “Robbery is a felony. Collecting a legally documented debt is not.” “Every single cent on that invoice is money I spent keeping Rebecca alive. I have the receipts.” “That includes the money I got from selling my late parents’ house, my entire life savings, and the salary I forfeited over the last three years.” “You are full of shit!” Mr. Garrison pointed a trembling finger at me. “You took care of her voluntarily! Now that she is awake, you are trying to extort us!” Right on cue, Tedd put on a masterclass in playing the victim. He gently tugged at Rebecca’s sleeve, looking up with wide, innocent eyes. “Rebecca, maybe Dylan is just confused. That is so much money. How could we ever pay that back?” Rebecca finally spoke. The way she looked at me was like she was scraping dirt off her shoe. She actually thought I was using this as a pathetic excuse to win her back. I chuckled. “Captain Garrison, the invoice is crystal clear. 2.1 million. I am not negotiating a single penny.” “This condo you are living in. You paid the down payment, but I paid the mortgage entirely by myself for the last three years. We can value it at 200,000 dollars to offset your tab.” “That leaves 1.9 million. You have exactly three days.” “Dylan!” Mrs. Garrison shrieked. “Do not push us! Rebecca does not even remember who you are. What is the point of stalking her like this?” “I am not stalking anyone. I am collecting what I am owed.” I leaned against the doorframe, taking in the pathetic sight of this family. “Oh, I almost forgot to mention. When we bought this place, Rebecca insisted my name go on the deed. So I am going to need you all to get the hell out of my house.” Mr. Garrison’s face turned the color of a bruised plum. “You calculating bastard! You planned this all along!” He lunged at me. I was ready. I sidestepped smoothly. He missed entirely and slammed shoulder first into the wall. Rebecca instantly caught her dad, steadying him before whipping her head to glare at me. Her voice was thick with suppressed fury. “Dylan, do you really have to be this ruthless?” Looking at her acting like a human shield for her family and her little boy toy, I realized my entire youth had been a complete joke. “Ruthless? I could never compete with you, Captain.” “If I do not see the money in three days, you will be hearing from a judge.” I did not wait for a response. I slammed the door right in their faces. I could hear Mr. Garrison cursing and Tedd whimpering outside. It was just white noise to me now. 2 I walked into the bedroom and opened the closet. My tailored wedding suit was still hanging there in its plastic cover. I grabbed the hanger, ripped it down, and tossed the whole thing into the trash can. First thing the next morning, I booked a real estate agent for a viewing. The apartment was in a prime location with high end renovations. It was going to sell fast. The agent had barely left when my phone rang. It was Rebecca. “Dylan, are you really selling the house?” Her voice sounded exhausted. “What else would I do? Keep it as a honeymoon suite for you and Tedd?” Silence hung heavy on the line. “I will figure out the money. But you cannot sell that house. My dad…” “Your dad picked it out, I know,” I cut her off. “But I paid the mortgage, and my name is on the deed. Legally and morally, it belongs to me.” “What do you actually want from me?” “I want my money.” I hung up. I was done wasting my breath on her. That afternoon, while I was packing my boxes, the doorbell rang again. I assumed it was the Garrison family back for round two. When I opened the door, I found Tedd standing there alone. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a fragile, shivering puppy. “Dylan,” he said timidly. I blocked the doorway, making it absolutely clear he was not stepping inside. “What do you want?” “I came to apologize on behalf of Rebecca.” His eyes welled up with tears on command. “She does not mean to be cruel. She is just sick. She does not remember anything. Please do not blame her.” “And your point is?” “We really cannot afford that kind of money.” He bit his lower lip, looking like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. “Dylan, I know you suffered a lot over the past three years. I want to thank you for taking care of her. Could you please give us more time? Or maybe, ask for a little less?” “Every cent I spent is meticulously documented. The emotional distress and lost wages were calculated by a professional attorney. Which exact charge do you feel is unreasonable?” Tedd went pale. “That is not what I meant. I just feel like, considering our shared history…” A sharp voice cut him off before he could finish. “Tedd!” Rebecca came storming out of the elevator. She grabbed Tedd and pulled him behind her back, glaring at me like I was a predator. “Why are you bothering him again? I told you never to see him alone!” Tedd shook his head, looking pitiful. “Rebecca, I just wanted to talk things out with Dylan. I hate seeing you so stressed.” Rebecca gently stroked his hair, her eyes softening for a second before snapping back to me, cold and hard. “Dylan, I am warning you. Do not touch him.” I actually laughed out loud. “Rebecca, did you forget that I dragged you back from the gates of hell three years ago?” “Now you are taking my money to fund your little boy toy, and you have the nerve to warn me?” That hit a raw nerve. Her face contorted. “That fire… I am incredibly sorry. But I did not choose for this to happen.” “But you chose to forget me. And you chose him. Right?” She did not answer, but her dead silence was all the confirmation I needed. Peeking out from behind her shoulder, Tedd flashed me a smug, victorious little smirk. It finally clicked. Some people were just born to be Oscar worthy actors. “Alright.” I nodded slowly. “Then we have nothing left to say.” “Captain Garrison, my patience has run out. I want that money by noon tomorrow.” But I severely underestimated the absolute shamelessness of her family. The next day, instead of a wire transfer, I got a mob. A whole group of people claiming to be Rebecca’s relatives barricaded my front door. They were holding up giant vinyl banners. Ungrateful Gold Digger! Give Our Niece Her Blood Money Back! 3 Neighbors started poking their heads out of their doors, whispering and pointing at me. The ringleader was Rebecca’s loudmouthed aunt, Martha. “Come look at this monster, everyone! This man scammed my poor niece out of her apartment!” “Now that she has amnesia, he is throwing her out on the street and extorting her for two million dollars!” “My niece is a decorated hero! She almost died saving a child from a fire, and this vulture is trying to bleed her dry!” I leaned casually inside my doorway, watching their little theater production with cold amusement. Mr. Garrison stood at the back of the crowd, looking deeply aggrieved, occasionally wiping away invisible tears. Tedd was conveniently absent. I guessed a trashy hallway protest did not fit his delicate aesthetic. “Dylan! Open this door! Give the house back to Rebecca!” Aunt Martha started hammering her fists against the wood. I pulled out my phone and dialed the building’s management office. “Security? I have a mob trespassing and harassing me at my private residence. I need them cleared out immediately.” A few minutes later, a squad of security guards rushed out of the elevator. Seeing the uniforms, Aunt Martha dialed the drama up to eleven. She threw herself onto the hallway carpet, slapping her thighs and wailing at the top of her lungs. “There is no justice in this world! He steals our money and now he is calling the thugs to beat us!” The guards looked completely lost, unsure how to handle a shrieking older woman rolling on the floor. I calmly pulled out a photocopy of my property deed and handed it to the head of security. “I am the sole legal owner of this unit. These people are trespassing and actively committing slander.” “If you cannot remove them, I will call the police and let them drag them out in handcuffs.” The head guard glanced at the deed, then looked at the thrashing Aunt Martha. He made his choice. He barked into his radio. Backup arrived quickly, and they physically dragged the screaming relatives toward the freight elevator. The world finally went quiet. I shut my door. My phone immediately buzzed. It was Rebecca. “Did my aunt go to your house?” “She did. Quite the spectacle. If I did not know better, I would have thought I dug up your family graves,” I replied flatly. “I am sorry. I had no idea they were going to do that.” “Is an apology supposed to fix this?” She fell silent. “Dylan, please. Can we negotiate the money? I literally cannot produce 2.1 million.” “How about this? I will give you 500,000 dollars, and you keep the apartment. We call it even.” I laughed bitterly. “Rebecca, are you trying to tip a homeless man?” “My ten years of loyalty are only worth 500k to you?” “That is not what I meant…” “That is exactly what you meant,” I cut her off, my voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “Do not try to haggle with me again. I will see you in court.” I hung up and permanently blocked every single one of her numbers. That night, while I was taping up the last cardboard box, a photo message came through from an unknown number. I opened it. It was a candid shot of Rebecca and Tedd dining at an ultra exclusive rooftop restaurant. In the photo, Rebecca was gently wiping a smudge of sauce from the corner of Tedd’s mouth. They were gazing into each other’s eyes, sickeningly sweet. Below the image was a text. Dylan, Rebecca just told me that her biggest blessing in life was waking up without her memories, because I was the first face she saw. She said she is treating the past like nothing but a bad nightmare. I stared at the glowing screen for a long time. Then, with total detachment, I deleted the thread. The very next morning, my attorney officially filed the lawsuit. The Garrison family received their court summons almost immediately. Since Rebecca couldn’t get through my blocked list, her parents started blowing up my phone. I ignored every single call. Then the text messages started pouring in. At first, they were full of vicious insults. Then came the guilt trips. Finally, they resorted to begging. Dylan, please let us sit down and talk. Taking this to court will ruin everyone. I replied with exactly three words. Pay your debt. They did not text back. Two days later, Mrs. Higgins, an older neighbor from our community, called me. She sounded incredibly hesitant. “Dylan, honey, I heard about the mess with Rebecca. Her parents are going around the neighborhood dragging your name through the mud. They are telling everyone you are a greedy monster stealing from a wounded hero.” “I know.” “Are you just going to let them…” “Mrs. Higgins, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I really do not care what they say.” Anyone who had eyes knew exactly how I had spent the last three years. When Rebecca was first hospitalized, the doctors handed me critical condition notices multiple times. I was the one who dropped to my knees in the ICU hallway, begging the surgeons not to give up on her. I was the one who slept in a plastic chair for 24 hours a day. I sponge bathed her, rotated her body to prevent bedsores, and massaged her limbs to stop her muscles from dying. When she lost control of her bodily functions, I cleaned up the mess time and time again without a single word of complaint. Back then, her parents had begged me to leave, crying that they did not want to ruin my life. Back then, everyone in the neighborhood called me a saint. But now? Now that she was awake and claimed she had forgotten me, they flipped the script. They painted me as a venomous gold digger. Human nature was terrifyingly cold. I hung up the phone and plugged in a dusty external hard drive I had not touched in weeks. It held my entire life over the past three years. Every medical receipt, every hospital bill, every video recording I took to monitor her physical therapy progress. I selected one specific video, clipped a thirty second segment, and posted it to my social media feed. In the video, Rebecca was lying in the ICU, hooked up to a dozen breathing tubes. I was carefully using a wet cotton swab to moisten her severely cracked lips. My face was in the frame, gaunt and exhausted, with bruised, purple bags under my eyes from sleep deprivation. The caption was simple. A three year nightmare is finally over. I did not name anyone, but everyone who knew us knew exactly what it meant. My feed exploded within minutes. The same people who had been whispering behind my back were suddenly flooding my inbox. Dylan, what is going on? Did Rebecca do something to you?! I did not reply to a single one. Let the bullets fly a little longer.

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My twin sister and I were getting married on the exact same day. But on the morning of the wedding, someone shredded her gown to pieces. When my husband found out, he took my wedding dress and gave it to her. The wedding coordinator was frantically calling for the bride and groom to line up. I was spinning in circles, tearing the bridal suite apart looking for my dress. That was when my husband finally looked at me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “It’s Hailey’s first time getting married. She deserves to have a flawless day. You two are exactly the same size, so I let her borrow your gown.” I stared at him, entirely unable to process his words. “What about me? This is my first wedding, too.” Carter furrowed his brow, completely exasperated. “Hailey is your twin sister. Can’t you just be the bigger person for once? Besides, we already signed the marriage license at the courthouse last month. Today is just for show. I already talked to Hailey. She’s going to walk down the aisle a second time pretending to be you. You guys are identical anyway. As long as you keep your mouth shut, no one will ever know.” 1 Half an hour ago, when Carter told me he gave my dress to Hailey, I thought I was having a stroke. I stood frozen in the hallway for a full thirty seconds. When my brain finally rebooted, I shoved past him and marched straight for the ballroom doors. Hailey and I had booked our receptions at the same luxury hotel. My reception was in the Sapphire Room. Hers was right next door in the Emerald Room. I stepped into the dim ballroom. Up on the altar, Hailey was exchanging rings with her groom. A brilliant spotlight shone down on her lace bodice and flowing train. Pure, radiant, and absolutely breathtaking. It was my dress. The tips of my fingers went completely numb. I planted my foot, ready to storm that stage. But Carter grabbed me from behind. His grip was brutal. His fingers dug into my bare upper arm like steel claws. He practically dragged me backward, shoving me all the way into the secluded bridal suite. “Jules, stop acting crazy! This is the most important moment of Hailey’s entire life!” He slammed the door shut and yanked at his bowtie, looking thoroughly annoyed. My eyes began to burn. A pathetic, choked sob clawed its way up my throat. “Is today not the most important moment of my life, too?” I stared at him without blinking. I wanted to look right through this man. We had known each other since childhood. We had been dating for two years. Carter avoided my eyes. A fleeting shadow of guilt passed over his face before it vanished. He reached out to hold my hands, speaking to me like a disappointed parent. “Jules, Hailey isn’t built like you. She’s highly sensitive, and you know she has a weak heart. If her wedding day was ruined, she would spiral into a depression she might never recover from.” “We all grew up together. You know Hailey has always needed extra protection. Whatever she wanted, if you didn’t have it, you helped her get it. If you did have it, you gave it to her.” “Why are you throwing a temper tantrum over something so trivial?” I slapped his hands away and let out a dry, hollow laugh. “You think I’m throwing a temper tantrum?” “What else would you call it?” Carter ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, his voice rising with frustration. “It’s just a piece of fabric! I’ll buy you ten new designer dresses tomorrow if you want. Do you really have to be this relentless?” I looked at his self-righteous face. Every compromise I had ever made, every boundary I had ever let them cross, suddenly felt like jagged glass lodged in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Since I was a little girl, I was conditioned to yield to Hailey. If she wanted my favorite doll, I handed it over. If she wanted the trophy I won at the science fair, I let her put her name on it. When she developed a crush on Carter and actively tried to steal him, I quietly stepped back. But then Carter came to me. He asked me out. He looked me in the eyes and said he finally realized I was the one he loved, not Hailey. That was the only reason we were standing here today. I had swallowed all the unfairness because my mother drilled it into my skull every single day. She always told me Hailey was fragile. Hailey was sickly. I had to yield. But did I really have to yield my wedding? My dress? My own husband? When I didn’t say anything, Carter assumed I had surrendered. His tone softened. He reached out to stroke my cheek. “Be a good girl. I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay? Let’s go out there. We have to do our vows. You can just wear one of the bridesmaid dresses. It’s just family and friends out there anyway, nobody is going to judge you.” I leaned back, dodging his touch. I reached onto the vanity, picked up my diamond engagement ring, and dropped it onto the glass table. The sharp clink echoed in the quiet room. It sounded like a gunshot. Carter’s face went completely pale. “Jules, are you seriously doing this?” “Did you think I was joking?” I looked at him. My voice was so dead and calm it even scared me. “Carter, I’m done yielding. You can have the dress. You can have the wedding.” “I want a divorce.” “Absolutely not!” 2 The heavy wooden door flew open. My mother stormed into the suite, her face dark with fury. Hailey was right behind her, still wearing my wedding dress. “Do you think marriage is a game?” my mother hissed, glaring at me. “You’re refusing to walk down the aisle over a minor inconvenience? What are all those guests going to think of you? What are they going to think of this family?” I stared at her. “So you think it’s perfectly fine for me to walk down the aisle in a plain bridesmaid dress on my own wedding day?” “A dress is a dress! It’s just a little less flashy. When I married your father, I didn’t even have a real gown!” She rattled off her excuses rapidly. Her tone was practiced. It was entirely rehearsed. My legs suddenly felt like lead. “Mom, you knew about this. Didn’t you?” My mother paused. Her eyes darted away from mine. “Jules, my hands were tied. I’ll explain everything once the reception is over.” My voice shattered the quiet room. “So you all knew! You all conspired behind my back to strip me of my dress and give it to her!” Total silence fell over the room. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioning vent overhead. The cold air hit my face, freezing me to my very core. “Mom, am I actually your daughter?” Memories flooded my brain. Every single year on our birthday, Hailey was the one who blew out the candles. I used to beg for a second cake so I could have a turn. My mother always said buying two cakes for twins was a waste of money. She promised we would alternate years. But every year, without fail, she pulled Hailey up to the table. When we were in middle school, the neighbor’s house caught fire. The flames spread to our siding. I was trapped in bed with a broken ankle. They completely forgot about me. They grabbed Hailey and ran out into the street. Thank God the fire department arrived in time. After high school, Hailey completely bombed her SATs and didn’t get into a single good college. My scores got me into Cornell. My mother secretly called my guidance counselor and tried to force me to take a gap year. When I refused, she dropped to her knees in the kitchen and begged me. She said if I went to an Ivy League school while Hailey stayed home, the humiliation would kill Hailey. Hailey locked herself in her room and cried for two straight weeks. But what about me? What did I ever do wrong? Hailey stole everything I ever earned, and I was just supposed to swallow the pain. Was I cursed to be treated like garbage for the rest of my life? 3 My mother looked away, her voice sharp and defensive. “You are the older sister. It is your duty to accommodate her. Hailey can’t handle failure. You are tough. You can take the hits. What is the big deal?” Standing behind her, Hailey peeked out. Her eyes were red and swimming with tears. She looked like a terrified little deer. “Please don’t fight. It’s all my fault.” She sniffled, her voice trembling. “Jules, please don’t be mad at Mom. Someone maliciously ruined my dress. I didn’t want to steal yours, but Carter swore you wouldn’t mind because we’re sisters.” “If you really hate me for it, I’ll take it off right now.” I looked at her with pure disgust. “Great. Take it off.” All the blood drained from Hailey’s face. She stood frozen, awkwardly clutching the expensive lace skirt, biting her bottom lip as huge tears rolled down her cheeks. I let out a bitter laugh. “What are you waiting for? Take it off.” My mother lunged forward, putting herself between me and her precious favorite child. She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Have you lost your damn mind?! Are you trying to humiliate your sister on purpose?!” The left side of my face went completely numb. I didn’t cry. I actually smiled. For twenty-five years, no matter who was at fault, my mother always protected Hailey. I looked my mother dead in the eyes, speaking with absolute clarity. “I am walking down that aisle in my wedding dress, or I am walking out that door and filing for divorce. And I will never come back to this family again.” Carter panicked. He grabbed my wrist, his voice shaking. “Jules, stop acting like a psycho! There are two hundred guests sitting out there waiting for us! If you walk out now, my family will be a laughingstock!” Hailey spoke up again, her voice tiny and sweet. “Actually, I have an idea. If Jules is really this upset, we shouldn’t force her. We look identical anyway. Even Mom gets us confused sometimes. I can just put the veil over my face, go out there with Carter, and do the vows for her.” Carter’s eyes lit up. “That’s brilliant. We’re in completely different ballrooms. Nobody will ever notice.” My mother nodded in aggressive agreement. They stood there plotting, treating me like I was completely invisible. It was so absurd I wanted to vomit. I violently wrenched my wrist out of Carter’s grip. I didn’t know I had that much strength in me. “Do whatever the hell you want.” I grabbed my clutch off the vanity and headed for the door. Carter stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “You can’t leave. If Hailey is on stage pretending to be you, what happens if someone sees you walking through the lobby?” My mother bit her lip. She grabbed a thick spool of silk ribbon from a floral arrangement on the table and shoved it into Carter’s hands. Tie her up. “I am not letting you ruin Hailey’s perfect day,” my mother said coldly. “You’re just going to have to wait in here.” “Are you people insane?!” I swung my fists, hitting Carter in the chest and the face. I kicked at his shins, fighting like a wild animal. But I was just one woman against two people. Carter clamped a hand over my mouth, binding my wrists tight with the thick ribbon. Together, they shoved me into the massive, heavy oak wardrobe in the corner of the room. Carter looked at me through the narrowing crack of the door, his face twisting with pity. “I promise I’ll let you out the second the reception is over, Jules. Just sit tight.” The very last thing I saw before the door shut was Hailey. She was standing behind Carter. She looked right at me, and the corners of her mouth twitched up into a sickening, victorious smirk. 4 Click. The lock turned from the outside. The wardrobe plunged into pitch black. The only light came from the tiny gap under the door. Muffled through the heavy wood, I could hear the DJ in the Emerald Room hyping up the crowd. I heard the bass of the music. I heard the distant cheering of the guests. Those cheers were meant for me. Now, every single clap felt like a needle driving directly into my eardrums. My chest ached so badly I couldn’t breathe. Thump. Thump. Thump. I threw my entire body weight against the heavy doors. The wood barely rattled. Nobody outside responded. The only result was a blinding pain shooting through my shoulder. The silk ribbon cutting into my wrists felt like razor wire. Every time I struggled, the friction burned my skin raw. I don’t know how many hours passed. The music outside eventually faded into nothing. I slumped against the back of the wardrobe, gasping for air, completely exhausted. Warm blood trickled down my hands, soaking the ribbon and turning it sticky against my skin. By the time the hotel fell completely silent, it was late into the night. Suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps entering the suite. I let out a desperate, muffled scream through the gag and threw my good shoulder against the door with everything I had left. Click. The wardrobe doors were violently yanked open. A terrified housekeeper and the hotel’s night manager stared down at me. “Oh my god! What happened to you?! Who locked you in here?!” the manager yelled. The harsh overhead lights blinded me. I squeezed my eyes shut as silent tears streamed down my bruised face. “Call the police.”

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1 The moment my neighbor and supposed best friend found out I had forty-five thousand dollars loaded on my VIP spa account, she came hunting for me. “Danica, I just did the most amazing thing!” Penny burst through my front door, eyes shining with manic excitement. “I took all the stray dogs in our neighborhood for a luxury essential oil spa day!” She clapped her hands together. “Over twenty dogs. A fifteen-hundred-dollar premium package for each of them. Aren’t I just the best?” I blinked, genuinely caught off guard. Penny was the neighborhood’s resident clout-chasing saint. She loved playing the philanthropist online, but she never spent a single dime of her own money. Her entire charity model relied on guilt-tripping others into opening their wallets. Since when did she have a change of heart? Unless she used my membership card to give a pack of feral dogs a luxury blowout. I leaned back against the plush velvet of my sofa. I kept my voice entirely neutral. “Penny, did you sign my name on that service invoice?” She froze for a split second before rolling her eyes, her tone dripping with impatience. “Well, duh! If I gave them my name, they wouldn’t know who I was. Anyway, just let them deduct it from your account balance. I gotta go!” She spun on her heels, ready to strut out the door like she owned the place. I took a slow sip of my black coffee. Just a few hours ago, the receptionist at the spa had stopped her with a single question, and it had sent her into a panic. “Danica,” Penny had asked me yesterday, her voice overly casual. “How much is left on that Obsidian card of yours at the luxury spa?” I had glanced at her, my voice perfectly calm. “About forty-five thousand. Why?” Hearing that number, Penny sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes darted around like a slot machine. “Oh my god, I always knew you were loaded! That kind of money is nothing to you. Just the price of a couple of designer bags.” She leaned in close, lowering her voice, and slapped on a look of profound, agonizing pity. “Danica, have you seen that pack of stray dogs hanging around the community park?” “They break my heart. Absolutely skin and bones. Their fur is completely matted with filth.” “Especially that little black one with the limp. The way he looked at me last night… it was like a cry for help.” Penny was notorious in our gated community. Her absolute favorite hobby was posting tragic animal rescue videos on her Instagram stories, always accompanied by three-paragraph essays about kindness and empathy. But if you actually asked her to drop ten bucks on a bag of kibble, she would suddenly have a thousand excuses. She sighed heavily, forcing her eyes to water. “I’m just too soft-hearted. I can’t stand seeing innocent creatures suffer.” “If I could just get them a full-body essential oil treatment, scrub away all those fleas and grime…” “Get them a professional groom so they look adorable. I just know they’d get adopted by good families immediately!” I set my coffee cup down on the glass table, completely unfazed. “A spa trip will definitely make them smell nice. But what strays actually need is solid food and rabies vaccines.” Penny scowled. She hated it when I ruined her aesthetic fantasies with logic. “Food and shelter are just baseline survival! They deserve dignity, Danica!” “I’ve made up my mind. Tomorrow, I’m giving them a total makeover. I’m doing something truly beautiful.” “There’s over twenty of them. This is going to be incredibly rewarding.” She was practically buzzing with excitement, clearly already picturing the viral TikTok fame and the flood of adoring comments. “Alright, I can’t waste any more time chatting. I need to map out my rescue route for tomorrow.” “Just you wait, Danica. You’re going to see me shine!” She hummed a trendy pop song and practically skipped out of my house. Sitting in my living room, the memory of that conversation felt incredibly wrong. Penny was the kind of cheapskate who would stall at the cash register of a convenience store just to force me to pay for her popsicle. There was absolutely no way she had a sudden stroke of generosity to drop tens of thousands of dollars on stray dogs out of her own pocket. And why had she specifically asked about the balance on my Obsidian card? Lumina Spa was the most exclusive, high-end grooming club in the city, catering to both elite socialites and their pampered pets. Even their most basic wash-and-fluff cost hundreds of dollars. My stomach dropped. I immediately grabbed my phone and dialed the general manager of Lumina Spa. “Harrison, what is the current payment authorization on my Obsidian card?” “Miss Montgomery,” Manager Harrison’s polite voice came through the receiver. “Your card holds our highest VIP tier. Currently, charges are authorized purely via your signature.” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. I knew it. “Change the security settings on my account immediately.” “From this second forward, a signature is no longer enough. I want dual-factor authentication enabled. Facial recognition and fingerprint scan.” Harrison paused, clearly surprised, but his impeccable customer service training kicked in instantly. “Understood, Miss Montgomery. I am updating the system parameters right now.” I looked out the window at the gathering storm clouds, my voice dropping to a serious octave. “Mark my words, Harrison. Unless I am physically standing in your lobby to approve it, absolutely no one is allowed to deduct a single cent from that account. I don’t care who they claim to be.” “You have my word,” Harrison replied with absolute gravity. “With the system locked, no one can bypass your biometric verification to access those funds.” I hung up the phone and opened Instagram. Penny’s profile picture was a heavily filtered selfie of her hugging a dirty street dog. Her bio read: Always leading with love. 2 The next morning, the moment I pulled back my curtains, I heard a massive commotion down on the street. I opened my phone. Penny had already spammed her story with ten different updates. The newest post was a live video. In the frame, she was dressed head-to-toe in pristine white designer athleisure, wearing surgical gloves and a chic black face mask. Trailing behind her was a chaotic, filthy parade of over twenty stray mutts, taking over the entire sidewalk. The caption read: An angel on earth! I couldn’t bear to see these fur babies suffer another day. Taking them all for a luxury spa experience! Praying that once they wash away the street grime, they’ll all find their forever homes! The comment section was already a waterfall of praise. “Penny is literally an angel! We don’t deserve her!” “Over twenty dogs? Omg, that must cost an absolute fortune. You are so selfless.” “Get this girl a Nobel Peace Prize right now!” Penny pinned a comment to the top of the chat, adding a prayer hands emoji. “For these babies, I’d willingly empty my bank account.” Reading that sentence made my stomach churn. The sheer audacity of this woman was mind-blowing. Her history of weaponizing morality to rob people blind was legendary in our neighborhood. Just last month, the Homeowners Association organized a fundraiser for underprivileged kids. Penny grabbed a megaphone, planted herself at the front gates, and publicly cornered Martha, the elderly woman who cleaned our community dumpsters. Martha barely made minimum wage, but Penny relentlessly bullied her into donating a full month’s paycheck. “Martha, if you just skip buying meat for a few weeks, a child in need gets to eat warm meals!” Penny had yelled through the megaphone. “How can you be so heartless?” Publicly humiliated and driven to tears, Martha ended up handing over a hundred dollars she desperately needed for rent. Meanwhile, Penny didn’t donate a single cent. Yet, because she “organized” the drive, the HOA awarded her the title of Charity Ambassador. Then there was the time Mr. Henderson’s grandson fell terribly ill. The poor old man set up a GoFundMe to cover the medical bills. Penny hijacked the link, spamming it in every group chat she could find. She demanded everyone post screenshots of their donation receipts. If anyone failed to post one, she would tag them relentlessly, calling them cold-blooded monsters. Curious, Mr. Henderson eventually checked the backend of the fundraiser. Penny’s total contribution? One single cent. When confronted, she brushed it off. “The size of the donation doesn’t matter. It’s about raising awareness.” But her absolute worst offense involved feral cats. She would trap stray cats around the neighborhood and casually toss them over the fences into the ground-floor patios of other residents. Then, she would march up to their doors and demand they purchase imported, premium cat food to feed them. Every single afternoon, she would stand outside their fences, taking pictures of the cats eating the food the homeowners bought, and post it online to harvest likes and sympathy. I locked my screen, changed into a comfortable sweater, and headed downstairs for a walk. The moment I stepped into the courtyard, I practically collided with Brenda, the community’s most vocal busybody. Brenda was dragging her oversized Poodle along on a sparkly leash. The second she saw me, her face split into a massive, gossipy grin. “Oh my goodness, Danica! Your friend Penny is an absolute saint!” She gave me a thumbs-up, her heavy makeup creasing. “I just watched her round up every single stray dog in the neighborhood.” “I heard she took them to that ultra-fancy Lumina Spa. They’re getting the premium package! That’s like, a thousand bucks a pop!” I stopped in my tracks, feigning perfect shock. “A thousand each? For almost thirty dogs, that’s thirty grand. Where on earth did she get that kind of cash?” Brenda leaned in close, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Well, that’s the secret, isn’t it? Penny told me she wasn’t paying out of pocket.” “She said she has a filthy rich best friend who offered to fully sponsor this beautiful act of charity.” Brenda looked me up and down, a calculating gleam in her eyes. “Danica, you don’t happen to be that filthy rich best friend, do you?” I stared her down, my expression turning to ice. “I certainly don’t have that kind of money to throw around playing savior.” Brenda scoffed, clearly disappointed she didn’t get the juicy scoop she wanted. “Right, figured. You’ve always been pretty tight with your cash. You even complain about the HOA fees. You don’t have Penny’s big heart.” “But Penny swore up and down she had it in the bag today. Said she had absolute, guaranteed funding.” I didn’t bother arguing with her. I turned my back and walked straight toward the quiet gazebo by the pond. Once I sat down, I pulled out my phone and dialed Lumina Spa again. “Manager Harrison. Has anyone tried to charge my card today?” The background noise on the other end was absolute chaos. A chorus of barking and yelping echoed through the phone. “Yes, Miss Montgomery. Your associate, Penny, brought twenty-eight stray dogs into the salon. We are currently administering the premium essential oil packages.” “She claimed she had your full authorization and instructed us to bill everything to your Obsidian card.” I watched Brenda’s Poodle hike its leg against a pristine rosebush nearby. “Remember what I told you yesterday. I don’t care what she says. Without my facial recognition, you do not authorize a single dime.” Harrison’s tone was rock solid. “Rest assured. The system is entirely locked down. We only answer to your biometric approval.” 3 Penny had fired up a TikTok Live right in the middle of the luxury pet salon. Her stream title was written in massive, bold letters: Going Broke to Save the Fur Babies! Digital Angel Live Rescue. I tapped into the stream. The screen displayed a scene of absolute, chaotic opulence. Over a dozen professional groomers in sleek black uniforms were scrambling around, trying to wrangle twenty-eight feral, panicked dogs. Penny was strutting through the salon with a selfie stick, casually panning the camera over the shelves of exorbitant grooming products. “Guys, look at this! French rose absolute oil. A tiny bottle of this costs three hundred dollars alone!” “We’re only using the absolute highest tier of care for our babies today.” She shoved the camera into the face of a scruffy terrier that was currently pinned down for a massage. “Look at him! He’s melting, he feels so good.” “He used to dig through rotting trash for scraps, and today, he finally knows what it feels like to be truly loved.” The chat was exploding with adoration. “Penny is a literal goddess! I’m sobbing rn.” “This is what real charity looks like. Putting your money where your mouth is.” “Penny, you’re dropping a fortune! How are you going to pay rent?” Penny stared at her screen, letting a single, perfectly timed tear slip down her cheek. “It’s okay, guys. It’s incredibly expensive, but to give them a shot at a real home… I’ll empty my savings!” “As long as they’re clean and happy, I’ll happily eat instant ramen for the rest of the year!” I lounged sideways on my couch, watching her perform this nauseating martyrdom. A harsh laugh escaped my lips. Eat ramen? This was a girl who constantly begged me to cover the extra fifty cents on her UberEats delivery fees. After several hours of sheer pandemonium, the twenty-eight dogs were finally done. Their matted clumps of fur were now silky and blown out, the entire pack smelling like a botanical garden. Manager Harrison stepped right into the frame of her live stream, holding a sleek leather folio. “Miss Penny, the premium luxury packages for all twenty-eight dogs are complete.” “Additionally, due to several dogs becoming distressed during the bathing process, two of our imported Italian leather sofas were severely damaged.” “The total comes out to forty thousand dollars. Will you be paying by card or wire transfer?” The live chat froze completely for one agonizing second before scrolling at light speed. “FORTY THOUSAND?! That’s highway robbery!” “Penny, don’t pay that! Sue them!” But Penny didn’t flinch. In fact, a smug, triumphant smirk played on her lips. She waved her hand at the camera, playing the calm pacifier. “Everyone, relax. Lumina is an elite establishment. These are their standard rates.” “For the fur babies, this is just a drop in the bucket!” With that, she carefully propped her phone up against a display stand, making absolutely sure the camera had a clear, dramatic angle of her settling the bill. She grabbed the gold fountain pen, didn’t even glance at the itemized receipt, and flourished a dramatic signature at the bottom. Danica Montgomery. She slid the leather folio back toward Harrison, turning to deliver her heartfelt closing monologue to her viewers. “Alright guys, our massive rescue op is a wrap! Let’s get these babies home!” She took exactly two steps toward the door before Harrison’s arm shot out, blocking her path. “I apologize, Miss Penny. You cannot leave.” Penny paused, a deep, irritated frown forming on her perfectly contoured face. “Excuse me? I signed the slip. Just run the damn card.” Harrison looked down at her, his posture perfectly rigid. “System alert. Miss Danica Montgomery’s Obsidian card has been upgraded to maximum security protocol.” “A signature alone is insufficient for payment processing.” The color rapidly drained from Penny’s face. “What are you talking about? I’ve used it a million times, I just sign her name!” Harrison maintained his flawless, customer-service smile. “Current protocols require Miss Montgomery’s biometric facial recognition or fingerprint scan to complete this transaction.” “I have just sent a remote payment authorization request directly to Miss Montgomery’s mobile device.” Right on cue, my phone screen illuminated. A sleek pop-up notification from Lumina Spa appeared. Payment Request: $40,000.00. Without a millisecond of hesitation, I slammed my thumb down on the red Decline button. “I’m afraid there’s a problem, Miss Penny,” Harrison said, glancing down at his tablet. “Miss Montgomery has explicitly denied your payment request.”

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During the years when our love was at its most pure, Oliver spent an entire night kneeling in the freezing rain beside my mother’s grave. He was terrified I was going to break up with him. He prayed to her spirit, begging her to visit my dreams and convince me to stay. My heart softened. I took him back and uprooted my entire life to move to his city. Five years after that grand gesture, he cheated on me with a beautiful, much younger girl. For her, he was ready to quit his job, pack up his apartment, and move across the country. It was snowing heavily the day he officially asked for a break. I had walked block after block in the freezing wind just to buy a bag of hot roasted chestnuts from his favorite street vendor. My hands were numb as I asked him, “Can we just fix this? What am I supposed to do if you leave?” He stared at his phone, his face twisted with impatience. “Lily, are you seriously this obsessed? Can you really not survive without me?” I stopped begging. I wiped my tears, walked away, and erased every trace of him from my existence. Six months later, he crawled back. He was completely broke, looking like a ghost of the man I knew. He dropped to his knees, sobbing into his hands. “Can we just fix this? I can’t survive without you.” I looked down at him and spoke with perfect calm. “Then go die.” 1 Discovering Oliver’s infidelity happened on an utterly unremarkable Tuesday. I was in the kitchen prepping dinner. He had been out in his car taking a phone call for three hours. By the time he walked back through the front door, the food was ice cold. I was sitting quietly at the dining table, typing away on my laptop to finish an urgent marketing deck for my boss. I didn’t even look up. “Just microwave your plate,” I said, my voice tight with work anxiety. He gave a faint grunt of acknowledgment and headed straight for the bathroom. Maybe it was just a woman’s intuition. Something felt incredibly wrong. The old Oliver never hid in his car to take phone calls. Suddenly, the marketing deck didn’t matter. My mind was racing, searching for clues. It wasn’t until he stepped out of the steaming bathroom that I spotted it. Wrapped around his left wrist was a thin, red woven thread. It was cheap. Basic. Not a single bead or charm on it. Oliver worked in high-end fashion merchandising. He was borderline obsessive about his image and aesthetic. He coordinated his luxury watches and tailored cuffs with surgical precision. If he wore something out of place, his colleagues in Manhattan would eat him alive. There was absolutely no logical reason for him to be wearing a dollar-store friendship bracelet. He noticed me staring at his wrist. Smoothly, almost casually, he slid his hand behind his back. “I’m cutting carbs this week. Think I’ll skip dinner.” “Make sure you heat up your food when you’re done working,” he added. “Don’t eat it cold.” Then he vanished into the bedroom. I watched his back disappear as the door clicked shut. It felt like someone had just swung a baseball bat into my chest. I sat frozen at the dining table, staring at that closed white door. A horrific, prickling numbness washed over my skin. A voice echoed in the back of my skull, screaming a truth I didn’t want to hear. He is cheating on you. I don’t know how long I sat there. It was December in New York, and my entire body felt turning to ice. Fighting through the nausea, I forced myself to walk over to the bedroom. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Oliver jumped. He clearly hadn’t expected me to come in. His reflexes took over. He slammed his phone face-down onto the duvet. As I walked closer, he ripped out his AirPods and shoved the phone under his pillow. “You’re done already?” he asked. “That was fast.” “You should eat and hit the shower. Need me to warm up your plate?” If this were the old days, Oliver wouldn’t be asking. Whenever I had late-night projects, he would bring his iPad to the living room and sit beside me until I finished. He always knew exactly when I was about to get hungry. He would have the food hot and waiting, with a bowl of freshly washed berries on the side. I used to tease him about it. “You’re making a great housewife. You’re making me look bad.” He would pull me into his lap and say, “Then let me quit my job. You can be my sugar mama.” But whenever I agreed, he would shake his head. “Nah. I need to save up for a brownstone. I have to give you a real home.” When exactly did that boy disappear? I had no idea. Oliver’s eyes darted everywhere but my face. The guilt was suffocating the room. A wave of sheer desperation washed over me. Acting on pure impulse, I stripped off my clothes right there in front of him. I crawled onto the bed, straddled his lap, and started kissing him like my life depended on it. I needed his physical touch to prove he still loved me. I needed to know that, at the very least, we still belonged to each other in this way. But Oliver shoved me hard in the chest. He grabbed a random sweater off the floor and threw it over my naked shoulders. “Lily, what the hell are you doing?” That single question shattered whatever was left of my bleeding heart. “What am I doing? Is it that hard to figure out? I want my boyfriend.” His eyes were still dodging mine. He grabbed his phone from under the pillow, stood up, and backed away from the bed. “Let’s just not tonight. I’m exhausted.” “Go to sleep. I have to head to the office and pull an all-nighter.” It felt like an invisible hand had just slapped me across the face. Is there anything more humiliating than throwing yourself naked at the person you love, only to be looked at with disgust? Actually, yes. There is. 2 Oliver changed into fresh clothes and bolted from the apartment like it was on fire. I followed him into the hallway, wanting to scream, wanting to demand answers. But as I stood behind the heavy front door, I heard his voice echoing near the elevator bank. “Babe, why would I touch her?” “Stop overthinking. I’m going to sleep in the car.” “I know, I know. I’ll stay on the phone with you. I won’t hang up.” The elevator dinged. The doors slid shut, cutting off his voice. My hand hovered over the doorknob. I didn’t dare turn it until the hallway was dead silent. The space outside my door felt like a freezing, desolate wasteland. On his way out, he had even taken the trash I left by the door. So domestic. So cruel. The dam broke. I sank to the hardwood floor and sobbed until I was gasping for air. Why? Why was he doing this? My brain felt starved of oxygen. I stumbled over to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and looked down at the street. His car was parked under a streetlight. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, phone pressed to his ear, laughing at something the girl on the other end said. He looked so relaxed. So happy. He spent the entire night in that car. I spent the entire night sitting on the cold floor by the window. At six-thirty in the morning, the car door finally opened. I scrambled back into the bedroom, threw myself under the covers, and pretended to be dead asleep. I had left the bedroom door cracked open. I heard him walk in, brush his teeth in the guest bathroom, and head back toward the front door. I heard every single footstep. Every second, I prayed he would walk into the bedroom. Just to hug me. Just to press his lips to my forehead like he had done a thousand times before. To whisper, “Going to work, baby. Love you.” If he did that, I could lie to myself. I could pretend last night was a nightmare. We could go back to the way we were. He never stepped foot in the bedroom. The front door slammed shut. I lay there for hours. I lay there until my swollen, burning eyes produced fresh tears, soaking my pillow completely through. I must have passed out from exhaustion. In my dreams, I was pulled back to the very beginning. Oliver and I were childhood friends. We grew up in the same small town in upstate New York. But it wasn’t some golden, sun-kissed coming-of-age movie. When he was eight, his parents had a messy divorce. His dad remarried a woman who didn’t want a stepson. His mom, eager to start a new life in Europe, dumped him at his grandmother’s house with ten grand in a checking account and never looked back. His grandmother lived in the apartment right above mine. I was eight years old, too. I didn’t have a dad. It was just me and my mom, scraping by. Oliver and I were like two stray dogs licking each other’s wounds. We kept each other standing. From elementary school through senior year, we didn’t spend a single day apart. He became the absolute center of my universe. When teenage hormones kicked in, the transition from best friends to first loves was seamless. We promised to go to the same college in the city. We swore we would never be separated. But when acceptance letters rolled in, I secretly changed my plans. I didn’t go to the prestigious university in Manhattan with him. I enrolled at the local state college back home. He didn’t find out until the final paperwork arrived in the mail. He stormed into my house, furious. “Why the hell would you change your major without telling me?” “Was everything we talked about just a lie?” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. My mother had just been diagnosed with a severe illness. I couldn’t leave her. Instead, I played the villain. “I just don’t have the same ambition you do. I want a quiet, boring life.” “Oliver, we just don’t make sense anymore.” We didn’t speak for the entire summer. The night before he left for the city, I found a stuffed envelope jammed under my front door. Inside was a wad of cash, maybe five hundred dollars, and a note written on lined paper. [This is the money I made flipping burgers all summer. It’s mine, not my dad’s. Use it. We’re going to figure out your mom’s medical bills together.] It broke me. I ran out into the damp evening air, crying, intending to run all the way to the bus station. But as soon as I opened the downstairs lobby door, I saw him. He was leaning against the brick wall, hands shoved in his pockets, grinning at me. I avoided his burning gaze, awkwardly wiping my face. “Why aren’t you on the bus?” He walked up and pressed a warm brown paper bag into my hands. The rich, sweet smell of roasted chestnuts filled the air. “I was worried a certain someone was too stubborn to realize she still needs me.” Whenever we fought as kids, a bag of hot roasted chestnuts was our silent truce. I took the bag and walked him to the station. Right before he boarded, he crushed me in a hug. “Lily, please don’t leave me behind. You’re all I have.” “Let’s make this official. Please?” 3 I said yes. Back then, I truly believed young love could conquer any tragedy. We dated long-distance for four years. Whenever he had a free weekend, he took the bus upstate. His Instagram and Snapchat were flooded with pictures of me. He constantly told me he wanted to make me feel secure, to prove I could always trust him. But I refused to let my baggage drag him down. Shortly after graduation, my mother passed away. I was completely alone. I handled the hospital bills, the morgue paperwork, the cremation, and the funeral plot all by myself. Oliver called me a few times. He said he had final-round interviews at top-tier firms on Wall Street. He couldn’t leave the city, but promised he’d rush back the second he secured an offer. I texted back a single word: [Okay.] The people who came to the funeral were mostly older neighbors. They all knew about me and Oliver. They stood near the buffet table, whispering about how successful he was becoming. Full academic scholarships. Bidding wars between corporate giants. He was going to put roots down in New York City and make a fortune. I listened to them, and I realized they were right. He had a massive, glittering future ahead of him. He shouldn’t be chained to a grieving orphan in a dead-end town. The day after my mother went into the ground, I sent him a text ending the relationship. Then I blocked his number, deleted my social media, and disappeared into a cheap motel where no one could find me. I spent a week existing in a numb blur. It wasn’t until his grandmother managed to get a hold of me that I found out he had come back. He had gone completely insane trying to find me. When he couldn’t, he drove to the cemetery and collapsed by my mother’s grave. He stayed on his knees in the freezing mud, begging her spirit to make me stay. Hearing that destroyed my resolve. I caved and went to the cemetery. I found him curled into a ball against her headstone. I couldn’t tell if his eyelashes were coated in morning dew or frozen tears. When he saw me, he scrambled to his feet and practically tackled me, burying his face in my neck, shaking violently. His eyes were bloodshot and wild. His voice was entirely gone. “Lily, please. Please don’t leave me.” “I’m begging you…” Looking at the boy who loved me that much, I had no defense left. We got back together. I packed up my life and moved to a tiny apartment in Queens with him. He worked insane corporate hours, so I took an easy admin job just so I could manage the apartment, cook his meals, and do his laundry. As he climbed the corporate ladder, setting his sights higher and higher, I started taking night classes, desperately trying to upgrade myself so I wouldn’t be left behind. I was still fighting for our future. How did he lose his way? My phone blaring aggressively on the kitchen counter jolted me awake. It was my boss, absolutely screaming into the receiver. She wanted to know where the marketing deck was and asked if I was trying to get fired. I squinted at the clock. It was 4:00 PM. My bones ached, and my brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I dragged myself out of bed and dug a thermometer out of the nightstand. I was running a massive fever. After apologizing to my boss, I threw a heavy cardigan over my pajamas and walked out to the dining table to finish the deck. Last night’s dinner was still sitting there, completely untouched. But there was a sticky note pressed to the wood. Oliver’s handwriting: [Flying out for a business trip for a few days. Throw the food out.] A hot tear splashed onto the yellow paper. Business trip. Right. He was with her. I knew it in my gut. Like a complete maniac, I started calling him. Back to back to back. He didn’t pick up once. Finally, my phone buzzed with a text. [Let’s just take some space and calm down.] Calm down? Space? What did that even mean? Total panic set in. I booted up the iPad and logged into the car’s GPS tracking app. The little blue dot was parked outside a boutique hotel downtown. Before I took an Uber there, I walked for twenty minutes through the biting wind until I found a street vendor selling hot roasted chestnuts. Clutching the warm paper bag to my chest, I found his luxury sedan in the hotel lot. I used the digital key on my phone to unlock the doors and climbed into the passenger seat. I assumed the app notification would alert him, and he would come down to see me. Instead, another text popped up. [Go home. I want to be alone right now.] I wanted to scream through the phone. Alone? Are you really alone, or is she in the bed next to you? But I was too terrified to ask. My chest felt like it was being crushed in a vice. My fingers trembled as I typed: [I have a high fever.] Ten minutes later, the elevator doors in the lobby slid open. Oliver walked out, pulled open the driver’s side door, and let out a long, heavy sigh. “Lily, if you’re sick, go to an urgent care. I’m not a doctor.” Tears blurred my vision. I reached out, desperately wanting to wrap my arms around his waist. He stiffened and leaned away from my touch. “Lily. I’m seeing someone else. You already figured that out, didn’t you?”

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1 The class reunion was winding down. Jalen suddenly turned to me. “Luna, let’s get a divorce.” I didn’t flinch. “Even if she’s completely rotten, you still love her?” Jalen bit down on his cigarette, letting out a sardonic chuckle. “You forget, I’m just as rotten.” Rotten souls, a perfect match. I forced a smile. “Fine.” A divorce was perfect. That empty space would be filled by someone else, someone who’d been waiting. … Jalen seemed surprised by my quick agreement. But it was only a split second before he suppressed that flicker of emotion, looking at me with a calm gaze. “I’ll send the papers tomorrow. You’ll get everything you’re owed, not a penny less.” I nodded. “Alright.” “Jalen!” A voice suddenly called from behind us. Ella, clearly tipsy, stumbled over and threw her arms around him. “Long time no see, handsome. All these years, have you missed me?” Jalen didn’t push her away. He even wrapped an arm around her waist, a tenderness in his eyes I’d never seen in our three years of marriage. “Jalen, you bastard, why aren’t you saying anything?” Ella’s eyes, clouded by drink, suddenly fixed on me. She pointed a finger and started shouting. “Jalen, have you fallen for this good girl? Girls like her must be dead fish in bed. I showed you so many tricks back in the day, can you really stand a dead fish now?” Her voice grew louder and louder, until finally, she lunged at me, ready to strike. Jalen caught her wrist, pulling her into his arms, then turned to me. “I’m sorry, she’s drunk.” Even though I was his wife in that moment, his first instinct was to apologize to me for another woman. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. If there’s nothing else, I’ll head home.” Jalen just hummed in response. “I won’t be back tonight. I’ll find you tomorrow.” My steps faltered, but I said nothing. Back home, I looked around the apartment we’d shared as a married couple for three years. From the hopeful anticipation when we first tied the knot, to the pang of hurt when he blurted out Ella’s name during our first time together. Then the agony, the disappointment, when he had a fever and mistook me for Ella. Now, only numbness remained. Ten years. My complicated dance with Jalen was finally over. I chuckled softly and went into the bedroom to pack. I didn’t have much. One suitcase was enough. After packing, I lay on the bed, expecting to stare at the ceiling, but I fell asleep the moment my eyes closed. I even dreamt, for the first time in ages, of seeing Jalen for the very first time. Every school had its popular figures. Jalen was Northwood High’s most talked-about. He was charming, good at everything, but his one flaw was probably how often he swapped girlfriends. Back then, I hated people like him, even thought anyone who fell for him was foolish. Until that day, when my friends dragged me to watch him long jump. The crowd was huge. I was shoved to the very front. I felt overwhelmed, about to leave. But then, an instant later, a jacket smelling faintly of cologne landed on my head. I frantically pulled it off, my eyes meeting a roguish grin. “Hey, mind holding my jacket for a sec?” In that moment, my heart felt like it would burst from my chest. From that day on, I harbored a secret crush. In junior year, to be in his class, I chose science, a subject I had no interest in whatsoever. Watching him move from one girlfriend to the next, it pained me, but I had no right to say anything. I just kept going with the flow, writing one anonymous love letter after another. This continued until just before graduation. I didn’t want to have any regrets, so I wrote a signed love letter, intending to confess to him in person. But when I got to the classroom, I saw him kissing his new girlfriend. The girl, blushing, hid her face in his arms. He leaned back, raising an eyebrow, smiling at me. “Hey, what class are you in? My girlfriend’s shy, mind closing the door for us?” It was then I realized that with graduation so close, he didn’t even know we were in the same class, let alone my name. The next day, I waited all morning, but Jalen never showed up. I called him dozens of times, but couldn’t get through. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up and went to his office. Only to be told Jalen hadn’t come to work. Unusual. A workaholic, not showing up for work. Who it was for was obvious. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was my best friend, Anya. The moment I answered, a furious shout came from the other end. “Luna! That bastard Jalen is cheating! I swear to God, I just saw Jalen taking some woman to an abortion clinic!” “I’m going to go kill those two lowlifes right now! How dare they do this to you!” “That cheap tramp! That disgusting jerk! I’m going to make him suffer!” Beep— Before I could utter a single word, the call disconnected. Without another thought, I quickly hailed a cab to the hospital. As soon as I reached the entrance of the Women’s Health department, I heard Anya’s booming voice. “Jalen! You’re a married man, and you’re cheating! You actually brought your mistress to get an abortion in broad daylight!” “And you, you shameless hussy, have some self-respect! You’re a homewrecker!” “Today, I’m going to make sure you two lowlifes don’t leave here alive! I hope you both rot!” “Bitch! Whore! Jalen, how could you do this to Luna after she loved you for ten years? After everything she did for you…” “Anya!” I rushed in and cut her off, pulling her away. Seeing Jalen, his face grim, holding a pale and fragile Ella, I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry, my friend lost her temper.” Jalen’s tone was icy. “Control her. If she’s ever so careless with her words again, I won’t let it go.” With that, he picked up Ella and left. Anya’s eyes widened instantly. “Luna! Why are you apologizing to him? He’s the one who’s wrong!” I pursed my lips. “Anya, that’s Ella.” Anya froze. I told her everything, from the beginning of the reunion last night to its end. Anya listened to everything, then took a deep breath. “So, just because Ella broke up with that guy and came back from abroad, and went to a reunion, Jalen wants to divorce you?” I nodded. “Why the hell?” Anya slapped the table, her eyes blazing red. “That woman treated Jalen like dirt, then dumped him, and even hit him with her car, almost killing him. You were the one who saved him, your hand crushed and bloody, so badly you could never hold a scalpel again. You nursed him out of the hospital, stayed by his side. Why does he get to just say ‘I want a divorce’ now?” “No! I’m going to tell him! Even if you divorce, I want his conscience to be plagued with guilt.” I grabbed her arm. “Anya, it’s pointless. Now, I genuinely want this divorce. I’m done loving him.” Anya stared at me intently, as if disbelieving. After all, every time I’d said I was done loving him, I’d ended up eating my words. But this time, I was truly tired. I even felt that Jalen, well, he wasn’t all that special. After saying goodbye to Anya, I asked the nurse for Ella’s room number. As soon as I reached the door, I heard laughter from inside. “Jalen, I treated you like dirt back then, and then hit you with my ex-boyfriend in the car, and you still love me! You even divorced that good girl for me, and you’re here with me getting rid of my ex-boyfriend’s baby!” I froze, looking up at the scene inside. Jalen’s expression remained gentle as he fed her porridge, not saying a word. Ella seemed bored and leaned in to kiss him. Jalen didn’t dodge, wanting to deepen the kiss. But in the next second, Ella pulled away, her lips curled in a mocking sneer. “Jalen, you’re so pathetic!” Jalen suddenly grabbed her chin and bit her. The sound of wet kissing filled the room instantly. After who knows how long, Jalen released her, his voice slightly breathless. “Yeah, I’m pathetic! Pathetic enough to fall for you! Pathetic enough to love you year after year.” Year after year? Could a rogue like him even love? I tugged at the corner of my mouth, about to leave. Ella suddenly saw me. She hooked her arm around Jalen. “What about your good girl wife? Don’t you love her? After all, she’s liked you for ten years.” Jalen’s hoarse voice responded, “The good girl is just a stepping stone for a mess like me. Someone like you, though, you’re my perfect match.” Ella burst out laughing, then lifted her chin. “Look, your stepping stone is outside.” Jalen stiffened, turning to look at me. My nails dug into my palm as I forced a smile. “I just came to ask when you can sign the divorce papers.” “Any demands you have, feel free to make them.” Jalen handed me the documents. I flipped to the last page, signed my name, and handed it back to him with a smile. “It’s fine, you wouldn’t screw me over anyway.” Jalen looked at the woman’s smile opposite him, finding it inexplicably grating. But wasn’t this exactly what he wanted right now? A divorce, then tying himself to that rotten Ella. Jalen shook his head, about to sign his name, when his phone suddenly rang. He murmured an apology and stood up to answer it. I don’t know what was said on the other end, but his face suddenly changed, and he started to walk out. I immediately grabbed the papers and stood up, blocking his way. “Just sign, it’ll only take a few seconds.” Jalen sharply looked up, his dark eyes fixed on me. I kept smiling, maintaining my stance. He took the pen, signed his name with a flourish. “I’ve already contacted the civil affairs office. It’ll take at least seven days to get the divorce certificate.” Seven days. I silently calculated the timing for my wedding with the other man. It was enough. Back home, I immediately shipped my belongings to Emerald City. By the time I was done, it was evening. Just as I was about to rest, I received a call from the police station. “Hello, are you Mr. Jalen Bianchi’s wife? Your husband has been reported for imprisonment and assault. We’d appreciate it if you could come down to the station.” I didn’t want to go, but we weren’t officially divorced yet. Fine, one last time. When I arrived, I saw Jalen’s face was grim, and beside him sat a smirking Ella. Seeing me, an officer immediately stepped forward. “Do you know this lady? She claims Mr. Bianchi imprisoned her, that she was recaptured after escaping, and that there were attempts to assault her in the car.” Before I could speak, Jalen suddenly interjected, “She’s my fiancée. There’s no imprisonment or assault. We’re in a legitimate relationship.” With that, he suddenly pulled out a yellowed but well-preserved piece of paper. On it was Ella’s promise, written the year they first got together, right after high school graduation. He had kept it perfectly, even carried it close to his heart. It showed just how much he liked her. The officer’s eyes widened. “But isn’t Ms. Luna Carter your wife?” I gave a strained smile. “We’re already divorced. We just haven’t received the certificate yet.” In the end, it turned out to be a misunderstanding. By the time we left the police station, it was deep into the night. Jalen went to get the car. Only Ella and I remained. She looked at me, then suddenly laughed. “Luna, you haven’t changed all these years, still fawning over Jalen as always.” I said nothing. Ella continued, “Do you want to know why Jalen likes me?” She suddenly leaned closer. “Because the person he should like is you.” I froze. Ella went on, “He received so many love letters back then, but he only kept yours. At first, I didn’t know it was you who wrote them, until one time, during recess, I came back early and saw you putting a letter into his locker that was identical to the purple envelopes he kept.” “Later, after you threw that confession letter into the trash, I picked it up. On graduation day, I crossed out your name, wrote mine, and confessed to him. He agreed, even told me those letters were interesting and he liked them a lot. That’s how we got together. That wild man even settled down for me.” I stood rigid, from head to toe. Ella’s laugh grew even more arrogant. “I went through all those letters you wrote to him later. They were pretty interesting, actually. You remembered what he liked to eat, what he liked to drink, even what he did every day, like a diary. Oh, and one more thing,” “After college, you heard Jalen and I broke up, so you mustered the courage to pursue him. Too bad, he immediately sent me the chat history and asked me to reply to you on his behalf. All those ambiguous messages during those two years? I sent them, deliberately leading you on. You have no idea how much fun I had watching you dance around for me.” “Later, Jalen and I broke up and got back together repeatedly. Even during that time, reports surfaced of him with different women in hotels, and he never said a word.” “Luna, ultimately, I have to thank you. You’re the one who made a wild man settle down and fall in love with me.” I was chilled to the bone, unable to utter a single word. Just then, Ella’s eyes suddenly darkened. She grabbed my hand and slapped herself across the face. “Ah!” Before I could react, an even harder slap landed on my face. Followed by Jalen’s icy voice: “Luna, are you asking for trouble?” He didn’t ask a single question, immediately siding with Ella. Watching Ella’s triumphant smirk, I clutched my burning cheek, then took one last, long look at Jalen. “Jalen, you’re right. You truly are a jerk too.” I turned and left, packing my things as fast as I could and returning to Emerald City that very day. Three days later, I saw a wedding invitation on social media. It was for Jalen and Ella. And my wedding was on the same day as his.

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When Jason’s mentee tripped and fell, he rushed to take her to the hospital. I stood in his office doorway, holding a file: “Here’s the budget for next quarter. Just sign it if everything looks good.” His mind was already miles away. Without even glancing at it, he scribbled his name. Watching his hasty retreat, I couldn’t tell if I felt disappointment or relief. But what he didn’t know was that what he’d just signed wasn’t a budget sheet at all. It was the divorce papers for him and me. 1 I pushed open his office door, immediately hit by a rich, unfamiliar scent. I turned, spotting an elegant aroma diffuser on the cabinet by the entrance, and a bouquet of white roses on his desk. This was definitely not Jason’s doing. He used to scoff at such things. Just then, his assistant, Tina, walked in. Seeing me eyeing the diffuser, her expression grew complicated. She stammered, “Ms. Graham, that’s Ms. Lee’s.” I looked up at her: “Ms. Lee? Jason’s mentee, Alice Lee?” “Yes.” She bit her lip, deliberating for a long moment before finally speaking: “Ms. Graham, you’ve been busy traveling for work lately and haven’t been in the office much, but Ms. Lee has been a frequent presence in Mr. Trachtenberg’s office.” “A few days ago, someone even saw them in the parking lot, being very… intimate. Now… now, everyone’s whispering about an inappropriate relationship.” I nodded, saying softly, “I understand.” After Tina left, I pulled open Jason’s desk drawer. A torn condom wrapper was carelessly tossed inside. Just then, my phone rang. Jason’s name pulsed on the screen. I answered. Silence on the other end. After two seconds, a suppressed moan suddenly broke through. A woman’s sultry voice purred: “She just got back today, and you’re already here with me. Aren’t you afraid she’ll be upset?” “Afraid of what? She stuck by me when I had nothing. Now that I’m so successful, how could she ever leave?” Alice Lee giggled. Her voice was laced with a hint of a pout: “Then don’t go home tonight. Stay and keep me company, okay?” “That depends on how well you behave tonight.” A crackle of static came through the receiver, and then the call abruptly ended. Three days prior, while I was on a business trip in Rhode Island, a photo suddenly appeared on my phone—Jason and Alice kissing in a car. In that moment, I felt as if I were frozen, my mind ceasing to function. Soon after, my brother called. He said only one sentence: “Iris, come home.” That night, I booked a flight home. It was my first time returning home in seven years. Seven years ago, Jason and I fell in love, but my father and brother vehemently opposed it. They said Jason was ambitious, overly proud, cold-hearted, and fickle. But I was head over heels, convinced they simply looked down on him. Every discussion about Jason ended in a bitter argument. Later, I helped him start his company. Several times, when we were at a dead end, I had no choice but to ask my family for help. My father agreed but made one condition. I had to conceal my identity from Jason for ten years. Jason was inherently sensitive, and to be with him peacefully, I had never mentioned my family’s background. By then, there was even less need to. So, to this day, he still believed I was a struggling individual with a difficult upbringing, just like him. 2 My father and brother handed me all the evidence of Jason’s infidelity. Looking at the dense array of videos and photos, my chest ached, making it hard to breathe. My brother sighed, patting my shoulder consolingly: “It’s not too late to find out now, Iris. Think about it carefully.” I looked down at the signed divorce papers in my hand and dialed my brother’s number. He picked up quickly. “Bro, give me three days. I’ll sort things out here, then I’ll join Reliance Capital.” His voice on the other end was noticeably brighter: “Good. I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Call me if you need anything.” Hanging up, I stared blankly at our wedding photo on his desk. The picture was from our wedding. Back then, Jason’s eyes were full of me. He swore he’d always treat me well, never let me suffer, never let me be sad. Those words, he’d long forgotten, flung to the bottom of the ocean. I picked up the photo frame and tossed it into the trash can, then stood up and left the office. I returned home and started packing. Opening the closet, a black lace nightgown, clearly not mine, hung conspicuously inside. It seemed to be mocking me, reminding me how ridiculous my seven years of devotion had been. I opened the smart lock’s surveillance app. Sure enough, on the very night I left for my business trip, Jason had brought Alice Lee home, acting as if they owned the place. They were recorded clearly, kissing by the door, embracing by the elevator. On the last day of the surveillance footage, Alice Lee’s dress captured all my attention. It was the one Jason had bought for me. One year for my birthday, he wanted to take me shopping for a gift. It was early in his startup, he didn’t have much money, and I felt for him, only picking out a two-hundred-dollar dress. But a few days later, Jason bought that two-thousand-dollar dress instead. He smiled, telling me he knew I liked that dress when I walked past the store. That day, I was moved beyond words. I treasured that dress, wore it once, then washed it and hung it in the closet, never daring to wear it again. Jason knew how precious it was to me. Alice Lee twirled in that dress in front of Jason, asking him with a smile, “Does this dress look better on me, or on her?” Jason didn’t answer her. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her lips. In an instant, my stomach churned. I clapped a hand over my mouth, rushed to the bathroom, and knelt before the toilet, throwing up. It took a long time before I finally recovered. Looking up, I saw the face wash, makeup remover, and various skincare products haphazardly strewn across the vanity. I reached out and found a women’s underwear, one I’d never seen before, pressed beneath the face wash. My heart sank to the bottom, everything before me feeling absurd and sickening. I forced myself to remain calm, then tossed everything in the bathroom into the trash can. Back in the bedroom, looking at the closet and dressing table, I wanted none of it. I couldn’t accept anything that had been touched by someone else. Not objects, not men. I found all my identification documents, put them in my bag, and walked out the door. The moment I closed the door, it felt like I was sealing away my past seven years behind me. 3 Before leaving, I had one last thing to do. Visit Mrs. Walker, an old neighbor, in the hospital. She was the landlady of the rented house Jason and I used to have in the city outskirts. She had no children, and her husband had passed away years ago. Back then, Jason didn’t have much money, and she treated us like her own kids, looking after us a great deal. Later, our company grew better and better, and we earned more and more money. We moved out of the rental house and into our own place. But I never forgot Mrs. Walker’s kindness to us. Whenever work wasn’t too busy, I visited her almost twice a month. Six months ago, she suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage and was hospitalized. For her safety, she had been hospitalized for observation for the past half-year. I bought her favorite osmanthus cakes and flowers, then went to the hospital. She seemed much better than the last time I saw her, overjoyed to see me. She kept asking if Jason and I were doing well. I didn’t want to worry her, so I held back my discomfort and gently reassured her with a smile. “Don’t worry, he treats me very well.” Only after receiving a positive answer did she nod contentedly. “That’s good, that’s good. You went through so much with him to get to where you are now. He absolutely must treat you well.” We chatted for a long time, and I reluctantly left only when it was almost time to go to the airport. I stood in front of the hospital room, lost in thought for a moment, until a familiar voice behind me snapped me back to reality. Jason asked with some concern: “What did the doctor say?” I turned around and saw him with his arm around Alice Lee’s waist. Alice Lee blinked, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. Then she handed him a paper: “Jason, you’re going to be a daddy!” My mind went blank. A scene from four years ago suddenly flashed in my mind—my miscarriage. Back then, it was our busiest time. I was swamped, helping him find resources, pull in investments, pulling all-nighters to revise proposals, going on endless business trips and networking dinners. After one dinner engagement after another, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen, and I fainted. When I woke up, I learned I had been over two months pregnant. The stress from work during that period had caused me to lose the baby. The doctor said that, given my physical condition, natural conception would be difficult in the future. Jason saw my sadness and comforted me, saying it was okay if we didn’t have children, that he didn’t like kids anyway. But now, Jason’s joyful voice reached my ears. He held her in his arms, repeating over and over: “I’m going to be a dad! I’m going to be a dad!” Watching this scene, it just felt so laughable that I had actually believed his lies back then. As his words faded, our eyes suddenly met. Jason’s body stiffened, frozen in place for a moment. However, it wasn’t long before he regained his usual composure, a careless smile playing on his lips as he approached me. We went to a coffee shop near the hospital. Alice Lee sat opposite me, leaning delicately into Jason’s embrace. One hand caressing her stomach, her voice tinged with provocation: “Iris, I’m pregnant and not feeling well. I can only feel better leaning on Jason. You wouldn’t mind, would you?” Jason looked at her, his eyes filled with even more doting affection. He teased: “Do you think my wife is as petty as you are?” Hearing this, Alice Lee pouted, feigning a tantrum: “Well, that’s just because I care about you.” After she spoke, he glanced at me. His expression was playful: “Alice, you should learn from Iris. To love a man, you not only have to care about him, but you also have to be understanding.” I watched it all with cold eyes, taking a sip of coffee. 4 He handed her the car keys, commanding: “Go wait for me in the car.” Alice Lee didn’t want to, but she had no choice. She grudgingly walked out, looking back three times. After she left, Jason pushed the cake in front of me. “Cranberry, your favorite flavor.” I glanced at it, not touching it. I replied: “That was just a past preference. It doesn’t mean I still like it now. Nothing stays the same forever.” He paused for a moment. He chuckled: “Jealous?” I forced a smile, finding it oddly amusing. He spoke again: “Iris, as long as you behave, the position of Mrs. Trachtenberg will always be yours. There will be no one else.” I looked up at him: “Do you think I care?” He chuckled softly: “Don’t you? You spent seven years with me to get to this point, finally living a life of comfort and abundance. Would you really give it all away?” “Don’t blame me. With the company doing so well, I can’t not have a child, can I? Otherwise, who would inherit the company later?” “Iris, you understand, right?” I smiled. I looked up at him. I asked seriously: “Jason Trachtenberg, do you remember what you said when we got married?” He paused. I smiled: “You said you wouldn’t let me suffer even a little bit.” I took off my wedding ring and placed it on the table. His face changed. I spoke slowly: “I can’t walk this path with you anymore.” With that, I picked up my bag and turned to leave. He swiftly blocked my path, frowning as he questioned me: “Iris, what do you mean?” “Exactly what it sounds like. I can’t be generous enough to share my man with other women. These past seven years, consider it my punishment for being lovestruck.” “From now on, whether it’s Alice or anyone else, it has nothing to do with me.” His face went cold. “You’re divorcing me?” He then let out a cold laugh: “You wish. Divorce? You can forget about that for the rest of your life!”

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1 The reunion was over. Hannah suddenly said, “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.” I wasn’t surprised. “Even if he’s a complete jerk, you still love him?” Hannah let out a light laugh. “You forget, I’m a jerk too.” Jerks and jerks, a match made in heaven. I chuckled suddenly. “Alright.” A divorce was perfect. The spot she’d vacate was long since spoken for. … Hannah seemed surprised by how readily I agreed. But it was only for a second before she suppressed that subtle flicker of feeling, looking at me calmly. “I’ll bring the papers tomorrow. What’s yours is yours, you won’t lose a penny.” I nodded. “Okay.” “Hannah!” A voice suddenly called from behind. Liam, obviously drunk, stumbled over and threw his arms around her. “Long time no see, sweetheart. All these years, have you missed me?” Hannah didn’t push him away. She even wrapped her arm around his waist, a softness in her eyes I hadn’t seen in our three years of marriage. “Hannah, why aren’t you saying anything?” Liam suddenly looked at me, his eyes hazy, and pointed a finger, cursing. “Hannah, have you fallen for this goody-two-shoes? Guys like him must be dead fish in bed. I used to show you so many tricks back in the day. Can you really stand a dead fish now?” He got louder and louder, finally lunging at me, ready to strike. Hannah caught his wrist, then turned to me. “I’m sorry, he’s drunk.” Even though I was her husband in that moment, her first instinct was to apologize to me for another man. I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. If there’s nothing else, I’ll head home.” Hannah mumbled, “I’m not coming back tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” My footsteps faltered, but I said nothing. Back home, I looked at the marital home we’d shared for three years. From the hopeful anticipation when we first got our license, to the sting of hearing her blurt out Liam’s name during our first time together. Then the pain, the disappointment, when she had a fever and mistook me for Liam. Now, there was only numbness. Ten years. My entanglement with Hannah was finally over. I let out a soft laugh and walked into the bedroom to pack. I didn’t have much stuff; one suitcase was enough. After packing, I lay down, expecting insomnia, but I fell asleep the moment my eyes closed. I even dreamt, for the first time in ages, of seeing Hannah for the first time. Every school had its popular figures. Hannah was the most famous at Northwood High. She was popular, smart, and her only flaw, perhaps, was how often she changed boyfriends. Back then, I disliked people like her, even thought anyone who liked her was crazy. Until that day, when my friends dragged me to watch her long jump. There was a huge crowd, and I was pushed to the very front. I felt uncomfortable and was about to leave. But then, a jacket, smelling of sweet flowers and fruit, landed squarely on my head. I nervously pulled it off, meeting a bright, dazzling face. “Hey, mind holding my jacket?” In that moment, my heart nearly hammered out of my chest. From that day on, I had a secret crush. In junior year, to be in her class, I chose science, a subject I had no interest in. Watching her go through boyfriend after boyfriend, I felt terrible, but had no right to say anything. I just continued with the anonymous love letters, one after another. This went on until just before graduation. I didn’t want to have any regrets, so I wrote a signed love letter, intending to confess to her in person. But when I got to the classroom, I saw her kissing her new boyfriend. The boy stood beside her, blushing. She raised an eyebrow, smiling at me. “Hey, what class are you in? My boyfriend’s shy, mind closing the door?” It was then I realized that with graduation so close, she didn’t even know we were in the same class, let alone my name. The next day, I waited all morning, but Hannah never showed up. I called her dozens of times, but couldn’t get through. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up and went to her office. Only to be told Hannah hadn’t come to work. Unusual. A workaholic, not showing up for work. Who it was for was obvious. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was my buddy, Dean. The moment I answered, a furious shout came from the other end. “Ethan! Hannah’s cheating! I just saw some dude taking her to an abortion clinic!” “I’m going to go kill those two dirtbags right now! How dare they do this to you!” “That bitch! That scumbag! I’m going to make him pay!” Beep— Before I could say a word, the call disconnected. Without thinking, I quickly hailed a cab to the hospital. As soon as I reached the entrance of the gynecology department, I heard Dean’s loud voice. “Hannah! You’re a married woman, and now you’re cheating! And you actually brought your side piece to get an abortion in broad daylight!” “And you, you damn jerk, have some shame! Being a homewrecker!” “Today, I’m going to make sure you two dirtbags don’t leave here alive! I’m going to make you both die!” “Bitch! Bitch! Hannah, do you really think Ethan deserves this? After loving you for ten years, after what he did for you…” “Dean!” I rushed in and interrupted him, pulling him back. Seeing Hannah, pale and weak, being held by Liam, I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry, my friend lost his temper.” Hannah’s tone was icy. “Control him. If he’s ever so careless with his words again, I won’t let it go.” With that, she and Liam left. Dean’s eyes widened instantly. “Ethan! Why are you apologizing to her? She’s the one in the wrong!” I pursed my lips. “Dean, that’s Liam.” Dean froze. I told him everything from the moment the reunion started last night until it ended. After hearing everything, Dean took a deep breath. “So, just because Liam broke up with that woman and came back from abroad, and went to a reunion, Hannah wants to divorce you?” I nodded. “Why the hell?” Dean slammed his hand on a table, his eyes bloodshot. “That guy treated Hannah like dirt, then dumped her, and even hit her with his car, almost killing her. You were the one who saved her, your hand crushed and bloody, so badly you could never hold a scalpel again. You nursed her out of the hospital, stayed by her side. Why does she get to just say ‘I want a divorce’ now?” “No! I’m going to tell her! Even if you divorce, I want her conscience to be plagued with guilt.” I grabbed his arm. “Dean, it’s pointless. Now, I genuinely want this divorce. I’m done loving her.” Dean stared at me intently, as if disbelieving. After all, every time I’d said I was done loving her, I’d ended up eating my words. But this time, I was truly tired. I even felt that Hannah was, well, just Hannah. Saying goodbye to Dean, I asked the nurse for Hannah’s room number. As I approached the door, I heard laughter from inside. “Hannah, I treated you like dirt back then, and then hit you with my ex-girlfriend in the car, and you still love me! Even divorcing that goodie-two-shoes for me!” I froze, looking up at the scene inside. Hannah, her expression consistently gentle towards Liam, said nothing. Liam seemed bored and leaned in to kiss her. Hannah didn’t dodge, wanting to deepen the kiss. But in the next second, Liam pulled away, his lips curled in a mocking sneer. “Hannah, you’re such a slut!” Hannah suddenly grabbed his chin and bit him. The sound of wet kissing filled the room instantly. After who knows how long, Hannah released him, her voice slightly breathless. “Yes, I’m a slut! A slut who fell for you! A slut who loved you year after year.” Year after year? Could a wild child like her even love? I tugged at the corner of my mouth, about to leave. Liam suddenly saw me. He hooked his arm around Hannah. “What about your goodie-two-shoes husband? Don’t you love him? After all, he’s liked you for ten years.” Hannah’s hoarse voice responded, “The goodie-two-shoes is just a fallback for a mess like me. Someone like you, though, you’re my perfect match.” Liam burst out laughing, then lifted his chin. “Hey, your fallback is outside.” Hannah stiffened, turning to look at me. My nails dug into my palm as I forced a smile. “I just came to ask when you can sign the divorce papers.” “Any demands you have, feel free to make them.” Hannah handed me the documents. I flipped to the last page, signed my name, and handed it back to her with a smile. “It’s fine, you wouldn’t screw me over anyway.” Hannah looked at the man’s smile opposite her, finding it inexplicably grating. But wasn’t this exactly what she wanted right now? A divorce, then tying herself to that scumbag, Liam. Hannah shook her head, about to sign her name, when her phone suddenly rang. She murmured an apology and stood up to answer it. I don’t know what was said on the other end, but her face suddenly changed, and she started to walk out. I immediately grabbed the papers and stood up, blocking her way. “Just sign, it’ll only take a few seconds.” Hannah sharply looked up, her dark eyes fixed on me. I kept smiling, maintaining my stance. She took the pen, signed her name with a flourish. “I’ve already contacted the civil affairs office. It’ll take at least seven days to get the divorce certificate.” Seven days. I silently calculated the timing for my wedding with the other woman. It was enough. Back home, I immediately shipped my belongings to Emerald City. By the time I was done, it was evening. Just as I was about to rest, I received a call from the precinct. “Hello, are you Ms. Hannah Anderson’s husband? Your wife has been reported for unlawful restraint. We’d appreciate it if you could come down to the station.” I didn’t want to go, but we weren’t officially divorced yet. Fine, one last time. When I arrived, I saw Hannah’s face was grim, and beside her sat a smirking Liam. Seeing me, an officer immediately stepped forward. “Do you know this gentleman? He claims Ms. Anderson imprisoned him and that he was recaptured after escaping, with attempts to assault him in the car.” Before I could speak, Hannah suddenly interjected, “He’s my fiancé. There’s no imprisonment or assault. We’re in a legitimate relationship.” With that, she suddenly pulled out a yellowed but well-preserved piece of paper. On it was Liam’s promise, written the year they first got together, right after high school graduation. She had kept it perfectly, even carried it close to her heart. It showed just how much she loved him. The officer’s eyes widened. “But isn’t Mr. Carter your husband?” I gave a strained smile. “We’re already divorced. We just haven’t received the certificate yet.” In the end, it turned out to be a misunderstanding. By the time we left the police station, it was deep into the night. Hannah went to get the car. Only Liam and I remained. He looked at me, then suddenly laughed. “Ethan, you haven’t changed all these years, still fawning over Hannah as always.” I said nothing. Liam continued, “Do you want to know why Hannah likes me?” He suddenly leaned closer. “Because the person she should like is you.” I froze. Liam went on, “She received so many love letters back then, but she only kept yours. At first, I didn’t know it was you who wrote them, until one time, during recess, I came back early and saw you putting a letter into her locker that was identical to the purple envelopes she kept.” “Later, after you threw that confession letter into the trash, I picked it up. On graduation day, I crossed out your name, wrote mine, and confessed to her. She agreed, even told me those letters were interesting and she liked them a lot. That’s how we got together. That wild child even settled down for me.” I stood rigid, from head to toe. Liam’s laugh grew even more arrogant. “I went through all those letters you wrote to her later. They were pretty interesting, actually. You remembered what she liked to eat, what she liked to drink, even what she did every day, like a diary. Oh, and one more thing,” “After college, you heard Hannah and I broke up, so you mustered the courage to pursue her. Too bad, she immediately sent me the chat history and asked me to reply to you on her behalf. All those ambiguous messages during those two years? I sent them, deliberately leading you on. You have no idea how much fun I had watching you dance around for me.” “Later, Hannah and I broke up and got back together repeatedly. Even during that time, reports surfaced of me with different women in hotels, and she never said a word.” “Ethan, ultimately, I have to thank you. You’re the one who made a wild child settle down and fall in love with me.” I was chilled to the bone, unable to utter a single word. Just then, Liam’s eyes suddenly darkened. He grabbed my hand and slapped himself across the face. “Ah!” Before I could react, an even harder slap landed on my face. Followed by Hannah’s icy voice: “Ethan, are you asking for trouble?” She didn’t ask a single question, immediately siding with Liam. Watching Liam’s triumphant smirk, I clutched my burning cheek, then took one last, long look at Hannah. “Hannah, you’re right. You truly are a jerk too.” I turned and left, packing my things as fast as I could and returning to Emerald City that very day. Three days later, I saw a wedding invitation on social media. It was for Hannah and Liam. And my wedding was on the same day as hers.

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1 The day annual bonuses landed, mine came in a box of condoms. “Sales is just the company’s red-light district. All those numbers? From boozing and sleeping around.” I looked up at the secretary, her face stretched into a lewd grin. “Having a blast and making bank? I wouldn’t mind that gig.” A few crude chuckles echoed through the conference room. I snapped my laptop shut, pushing back from the table. Leaning by the window, I opened my messenger. A message from the VP of our rival company, three days old, still sat there. “Ms. Graham, thought about it? Bring your clients over, and the VP spot is yours.” … More lewd laughter drifted from the conference room behind me. Then came Mr. Henderson’s reedy, squawking voice: “Walk out that door, and don’t you dare regret it!” I didn’t look back, striding purposefully towards the open-plan office. Linda, her ten-centimeter heels clicking, chased after me. She deliberately raised her voice in the hallway: “Oh, come on, Ms. Graham, stop pretending you’re so high and mighty.” “Without this company, you’re nothing. And don’t forget to pick up that box of condoms from accounting. Mr. Henderson’s little severance gift.” Colleagues glanced over, whispering. I stopped, sweeping a cold gaze over her. Linda hugged her arms, a triumphant, sneering smile plastered across her face. Instead of getting mad, I smirked, turning towards my workstation. Last month’s sales reports still sat piled on my desk. That was the result of three consecutive all-nighters, my team and I burning the midnight oil. Just ten minutes ago, Mr. Henderson had, with a casual flick of his wrist, erased it all. I looked at the familiar faces beyond my cubicle. Josh kept his head down, pretending to type, his shoulders trembling slightly. Ms. Lee, eyes red-rimmed, shot me a look of suppressed fury. In that moment, my last shred of hesitation vanished. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. The screen showed a message from Mr. Chen, the VP of Genesis Tech, our competitor. “Ms. Graham, what’s your decision?” My fingers flew across the screen. “I’m bringing the project. I want the Sales Director position.” He replied almost instantly. “Deal. Contract’s ready, car’s downstairs.” I shoved my phone back into my pocket and started packing. I didn’t bother with the box full of random junk. I just unplugged my encrypted USB drive. Then, I opened my laptop, my fingers dancing across the keyboard. After copying the core client data, I deleted the files directly. Leaving behind only a heap of worthless surface-level data in the company system. Once that was done, I shut down the computer, feeling utterly refreshed. Mr. Henderson burst out of his office, I hadn’t even noticed him. He stared at my empty desk, the jowls on his face quivering. “Iris Graham, if you walk out that door, I’ll make sure no one in this industry ever hires you!” He pointed a finger at my nose, roaring, “Everyone knows your dirty little secrets! Don’t think changing places will magically clean up your act!” Here we go again with the sleazy rumors. It was his usual tactic, trying to corner me with that kind of low-down garbage. I cut him off impatiently: “Mr. Henderson, save it.” I casually unclipped my ID badge from my neck. In front of everyone, I tore the badge cleanly in half. With a flick of my wrist, the pieces landed precisely in the nearby trash bin. “Keep your threats and your condoms for yourself. Be careful not to screw yourself over.” The entire floor fell silent. Mr. Henderson’s face turned scarlet with rage, his mouth agape, unable to utter a word. I picked up my bag and walked out without a backward glance. Stepping out of the company building, the late autumn chill wind hit my face, yet it felt exhilarating. A black Maybach was parked by the curb. Mr. Chen, the VP himself, got out and opened the car door for me. “Ms. Graham, welcome to Genesis.” No talk of probation periods, just the core employment contract. I signed my name, watching the passing scenery outside the window. I pulled out my phone and posted on social media. The accompanying photo was my brand-new Genesis Tech ID badge. The caption was just a simple line. “New beginnings. Making money with my brains, not my looks.” A few minutes later, my phone vibrated furiously. 2 The day after I left, my old company was in an uproar. According to Josh’s whispered messages, the sales department was in complete chaos. Mr. Henderson slammed the printed client list onto Linda’s face. “That Iris broad always hogged the resources, now they’re yours!” He pointed at the long list, roaring, “Go close those deals! Prove that sales is all about looks!” Linda, holding the folder with only contact information, was brimming with confidence. She changed into a low-cut, tight red dress, her perfume so strong you could smell it two blocks away. Her first target was the multi-million-dollar client, Mr. Thompson from Apex Group. Linda, with two fresh-out-of-college girls in tow, marched straight to Apex Group’s building. She thought it would be the same old song and dance she used to pull with Mr. Henderson. But I knew Mr. Thompson too well. He was a true go-getter, utterly disgusted by suggestive “public relations” tactics. Sure enough, less than half an hour later, Linda emerged, looking utterly deflated. Not only did Mr. Thompson refuse to see her, he called a complaint directly to the company’s front desk. “Tell your Mr. Henderson that if he sends any more inappropriate people to harass us, he can expect a legal letter!” Mr. Henderson, in his office, furiously smashed a cup. Unwilling to scold Linda, he turned his wrath on the rest of the sales department. “It’s all your fault for not backing up Director Linda properly!” “A bunch of useless hacks! Can’t even handle one client!” My former colleague, Ms. Lee, was crying uncontrollably on the phone. “Iris, we can’t take it anymore.” “Mr. Henderson is forcing us to give clients gifts, entertain them at dinners, and even hinting that the female employees should follow Linda’s lead…” I clenched my phone, my voice turning colder. “Hang in there for two more days. The real show’s coming.” Hanging up, I looked at the dense data analysis on my computer screen. At Genesis Tech, I hadn’t wasted a second, working through the night to churn out a proposal. Completely discarding my old company’s “drinking culture.” Mr. Thompson agreed to my invitation. The meeting was set for a quiet business tea room. I didn’t order alcohol, opting instead for a pot of premium Pu-erh tea. I placed the thick analysis report on the table, sliding it towards Mr. Thompson. “Mr. Thompson, this is the proposal tailored for Apex Group.” Mr. Thompson flipped through a few pages, his brows slowly relaxing. “Ms. Graham, you truly understand me.” He closed the document, sighing, “The new people at that previous company are an insult to my intelligence.” I smiled faintly, refilling his teacup. “Professionals handle professional matters, Mr. Thompson. We only discuss business.” The meeting was very productive. Not only did I secure Mr. Thompson’s verbal commitment, but I also gained a crucial piece of information. My former company’s supply chain had a major vulnerability. Since I used to manage supply chain coordination, I knew exactly where their weak points were. At an industry gala that weekend, fate ensured a run-in. Mr. Henderson and Linda arrived, dressed to the nines. Linda was clinging to Mr. Henderson’s arm, her dress slit almost to her thigh. Upon seeing me, she deliberately raised her voice. “Well, well, isn’t it Iris Graham, the one who got kicked out?” All eyes in the vicinity instantly converged on us. Linda sauntered over, swaying her hips, scrutinizing my business attire. “Think you can close deals just by jumping to the competition? Or are you back to sleeping your way to the top?” Mr. Henderson let out a grating, cold laugh beside her. “Iris Graham, even a dump like Genesis can take you in?” “Heard it was Mr. Chen himself who picked you up? Guess you only have talent in that one area.” Their vulgar words echoed through the gala hall. Many people started pointing and whispering about me. I held my glass of juice, watching the two clowns. In that moment, I felt no anger, only a detached amusement, like watching a poorly acted play. 3 Facing Linda’s malicious slander, I didn’t descend into a shouting match like a fishwife. Instead, I merely turned slightly, smiling at the industry titans around me. “Mr. Henderson’s company culture is certainly… unique.” I said, unhurriedly, “After all, when annual bonuses are condoms, I just can’t appreciate that kind of generosity.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was just clear enough for everyone nearby to hear. A stir went through the crowd, many revealing looks of disdain. Mr. Henderson’s face instantly turned ashen, as if he’d been slapped hard. Infuriated, he pointed at me: “Iris Graham, you just wait!” After the gala, Mr. Henderson didn’t let up. He aggressively spread rumors in several industry group chats, each with hundreds of members. He claimed I’d stolen trade secrets from my former company, even Photoshopped some explicit images. All in an attempt to completely ruin my reputation before the Apex Group tender. Whispers started circulating within Genesis Tech as well. People gossiped in the break room, questioning whether I would bring negative publicity to the company. “That Ms. Graham, her reputation isn’t great, is it?” “Why did Mr. Chen hire someone like her?” Mr. Chen, the VP, walked straight in, slamming a file onto the table. “I value Ms. Graham’s capability.” He scanned the room, his voice icy: “These underhanded tactics just prove our competitor is desperate. Anyone caught gossiping will be out the door.” Standing outside the door, a warmth spread through me. With the company trusting me so much, I couldn’t afford to lose. I didn’t rush to defend myself in the group chats; that would be a waste of time. Instead, I contacted a lawyer directly, getting all of Mr. Henderson’s defamatory screenshots and recordings notarized. At the same time, I reached out to a few former clients who had been burned by Mr. Henderson. We were going to team up and prepare a big surprise for him. The Apex Group bidding conference arrived as scheduled. Mr. Henderson and Linda, with their team, arrived in full force. They carried a beautifully bound proposal. Just a glance at the cover told me it was a plagiarism of an old, discarded draft of mine. Even the formatting hadn’t changed. Linda cornered me by the lounge door. She leaned in, smugly, “Don’t bother, Ms. Graham.” “Mr. Thompson privately agreed that as long as tonight…” She gave an ambiguous wink: “The contract’s ours. Your boring data won’t do anything.” I looked at her as if she were a hopelessly foolish child. “You don’t even know what Mr. Thompson detests most, and you think you’ll win the bid?” Mr. Thompson had a daughter who had been harassed early in her career. That’s why he loathed workplace quid pro quo above all else. Linda was dancing in a minefield, thinking she was waltzing. I couldn’t be bothered to enlighten her, merely sneering, “Is that so? Well, I hope you have a pleasant evening.” Both parties entered the conference room. Mr. Henderson sat opposite me, glaring menacingly. He raised a hand to his neck, miming a throat-slitting gesture. His lips clearly formed: “You’re toast.” I calmly opened my laptop. Mr. Thompson entered, his expression stern. His gaze flickered with distaste as it swept over Linda’s overly revealing dress. When he looked at me, he gave a slight nod. 4 Linda was the first to present. She swayed her hips to the projector screen, as confident as if she were on a red carpet. “At Cornerstone, we boast industry-leading service philosophies…” The entire presentation was a display of provocative posing, with the PPT content utterly vacuous. It was filled with suggestive phrases like “dedicated service” and “premium experience.” When she reached the crucial technical aspects, she stumbled. “Uh… well…” She had to turn to the technician beside her for help, and the atmosphere grew incredibly awkward. Mr. Thompson cut her off coldly: “Mr. Henderson, is this your idea of commitment?” Mr. Henderson immediately broke into a cold sweat, stammering, “Well… Mr. Thompson, we can discuss the terms further…” Mr. Thompson waved his hand impatiently: “Next.” I adjusted my blazer, picked up the clicker, and walked to the stage. My presence commanded the room. No wasted words, just solid data and logical arguments. I pointed to the line graph on the screen: “From what I understand, Cornerstone’s current inventory turnover rate isn’t sufficient to meet Mr. Thompson’s demands.” That sentence struck Mr. Henderson’s Achilles’ heel directly. He slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet: “Iris Graham! You’re leaking former company secrets!” He pointed at me, roaring, “Mr. Thompson, this is corporate espionage! She stole all this data!” He tried to disrupt the meeting, to muddy the waters. I looked at him calmly, a mocking curve to my lips. “Mr. Henderson, these figures are derived from your publicly available financial reports.” “Is it so hard to admit to poor management?” My gaze was sharp: “Also, this is my professional integrity. Unlike some people who only focus their energy on how to hand out condoms to employees.” The room erupted in laughter. Mr. Thompson couldn’t help but smile, his admiration unconcealed. Mr. Henderson’s face turned beet red, but he couldn’t utter a single word in rebuttal. Mr. Thompson announced on the spot: “No further discussion needed.” He closed his folder: “I’m very satisfied with Genesis Tech’s proposal. Ms. Graham, let’s sign.” He completely ignored the Cornerstone group. Linda wasn’t giving up, trying to rush over to flirt and win him back: “Mr. Thompson, please reconsider…” Mr. Thompson frowned and called security. “Please escort this lady out. This is a conference room, not a nightclub.” Linda was dragged out by security, her arm in their grip, having lost one of her high heels. Mr. Henderson’s face was ashen, watching the multi-million-dollar contract fall into my hands. All his arrogance was extinguished in that moment. Walking out of the conference room, Mr. Henderson slumped, utterly defeated, onto a bench in the hallway. Like a mangy dog with its back broken. I walked up to him, looking down at him. “Mr. Henderson, I told you.” “Multi-million dollar contracts aren’t signed by taking off your clothes.” “This project? I’m taking it.” The glass door of the conference room was violently shoved open with a loud thud. Mr. Henderson, face red and tie askew, stormed out. He slammed a thick stack of files onto Ms. Lee’s desk, sending papers flying everywhere. “Useless! What good are you all, you good-for-nothings!”

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I’ve seen ghosts since I was a kid. I couldn’t speak to them, just watch. On our fifth wedding anniversary, I cooked a feast, waiting for Lyra to come home. When I looked up, I saw her ghost. She was curled up in the living room corner, her face a pale, ashen grey, staring intently at me. A chill like ice water drenched me. My hand trembled as I reached for my phone, wanting to call her. Before I could dial, the front door opened. Lyra walked in, embracing me as gently as always. “Sorry, honey, I worked late.” As she held me, I heard her familiar heartbeat, warm and strong. I closed my eyes, telling myself: She’s alive. But when I opened them, the spirit in the corner was still there. My heart sank, a slow, heavy drop. If Lyra was truly gone, then who was this person wearing her skin, holding me? 1 I stared hard at Lyra’s face. I’d looked at that face for twenty years. From elementary school through high school, college to marriage, she’d been by my side every single day. Now, I was seeing a ghost, identical to her, huddled in the corner. I trembled all over, unable to make a sound for a long moment. “Antonio, what’s wrong?” She walked over, her hand gently touching my forehead. “Why are you sweating so much? Are you running a fever?” Her eyes were full of concern, her warm palm resting on my skin. I flinched, stepping back abruptly. The sudden movement knocked over the water glass on the table. Crash! Water spilled everywhere. She froze, her hand suspended in mid-air, looking at me with a bewildered, almost hurt expression. “Antonio? What’s going on?” I forced down the rising panic in my chest. If the ghost in the corner was the real her, then who was this woman in front of me? I couldn’t alert her. I took a deep breath, managing to pull a strained smile onto my face. “It’s nothing,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Come on, let’s eat. The food’s getting cold.” With that, I sat down and served myself a spare rib. She poured me a bowl of soup and then pulled a bottle of red wine from the liquor cabinet. “I’m late today, so I’ll down three glasses as an apology.” I watched the dark red liquid in the glass, then spoke, feigning indifference: “Do you remember that time in high school when you snuck some of your dad’s wine?” I watched her face intently. She paused, then chuckled. “How could I forget? You insisted on trying it, and I couldn’t stop you. You ended up getting completely wasted after two glasses.” “And then?” My grip on the chopsticks tightened, a tremor running through me. “Then you threw up all over me. I took you home, and your mom smelled the booze, thought I’d gotten you drunk, and gave me an earful,” she shook her head. “I didn’t dare say you’d wanted to drink it yourself, so I just took the blame.” My heart clenched. This was a secret only the two of us knew. “What were you wearing that day?” I pressed on. “A white shirt, which you completely ruined. Took ages to wash out,” she smiled, ruffling my hair. “Why the sudden trip down memory lane?” I lowered my gaze, not answering. She even remembered that detail. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the ghost in the corner still watching me, and my unease spiked again. No, it wasn’t enough. I cleared my throat, shifting my gaze back to her, and spoke with a hint of awkwardness. “Today… Dad called. He said he was craving my beggar’s chicken.” She served me another rib. “Alright, I’ll make it tomorrow and take it to him.” “You’ll make it?” I looked up at her. She laughed. “Haven’t I always? You almost burned down the kitchen trying to impress my dad back then. I ended up learning to make it, and even got a few burns on my hands.” “The first time I made it, you mistook salt for sugar. You tasted it, your whole face crumpled up like a prune, but you still insisted it was delicious. I remember thinking, this guy is adorable.” “You even told my dad it was your recipe,” she shook her head. “He bragged about your cooking to everyone, and I never had the heart to expose you.” “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” she patted my hand. I didn’t say anything more. All the details matched up, yet the ghost was still there. Was I truly losing my mind? No, that was impossible. I’d been born with the Sight; I’d never been wrong about this before. After dinner, she tied on an apron and went into the kitchen. I followed, leaning against the doorframe, watching her closely. Her movements as she prepped the chicken, the way she rubbed in the seasonings, even the sprinkle of salt – it was all exactly as I remembered. The familiar aroma wafted from the kitchen. She turned and smiled at me. “Go sit down. It’ll be ready soon.” I didn’t move. When the beggar’s chicken was placed on the table, I took a bite. The taste was spot on. “Is it good?” She leaned in, her eyes sparkling as she watched me. I nodded. “Yeah, it’s just how I remember it.” She smiled, packed the chicken, and put it in the fridge. Then she took my hand. “Alright, it’s been a long day. Let’s go get some rest.” I leaned against her, feeling her warmth through my clothes, her steady breathing brushing my ear. “Okay.” I closed my eyes. Whether you’re human or ghost, I’m going to find the truth. 2 I followed her into the bedroom. In the corner, the ghost followed too. I averted my gaze, unwilling to look any longer. Lyra made the bed, patting the pillows. “Come on, lie down. You’re tired today, get some rest.” I lay beside her. She reached out and turned off the main light, leaving only a small nightlight on the bedside table. “Antonio,” she turned to face me, “have you been troubled by something lately?” “No,” I stared at the ceiling, “just a bit tired from work.” She took my hand. “If you’re tired, take a break. I’ll take care of us.” Her palm was warm, her voice gentle. My throat tightened. Out of the corner of my eye, I again glimpsed the lonely spirit in the corner. “Do you remember this pen?” I picked up the fountain pen from the bedside table, a classic hero model, its cap slightly worn. She glanced at the pen and chuckled. “Of course I remember. I bought it for your eighteenth birthday. I saved two months’ worth of lunch money for it, bought it at the stationery shop near school. The owner said it was the last one, and I was so afraid someone else would snatch it up.” My heart tightened. She was right. “And do you remember what you wrote on the note when you gave it to me?” I pressed on. “‘You love to write, this pen is for you, Happy Birthday,’” her face flushed slightly. “Actually, I wanted to write ‘I love you,’ but I didn’t dare.” “And how did I respond?” “You didn’t. The next day, you tucked a pack of Milk Duds into my desk. I was so happy I didn’t pay attention in class all day.” I closed my eyes. All true. She pulled off the cap, pointing to the words “Waiting for you” etched on it. “I even scratched my hand with a compass trying to engrave this.” She held out her index finger, a faint mark visible on her fingertip. “So why have you never used this pen?” My voice trembled. “You said you cherished it too much, that you wanted to wait until our wedding day to use it for the invitations.” I took a deep breath, placed the pen back on the nightstand, and lay down, feigning ease. “You have an amazing memory, remembering things from so many years ago.” She smiled, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “How could I forget anything about you?” I lowered my gaze, a thorn piercing my heart. She was right; she remembered everything. But how could she explain the ghost in the corner? I turned onto my side. “Since you have such a good memory,” I stared at her, “let me test you. Do you remember when we went to play by the river as kids?” She thought for a moment. “I remember. That summer was incredibly hot, and you insisted on trying to catch fish.” “Then you fell into the water, and I pulled you out. You were such a dork.” I watched Lyra’s face nervously, afraid of missing any subtle expression. I was the one who had fallen into the water back then, and she had pulled me out. If she agreed with my version, then she was the imposter! She paused, then suddenly tapped my forehead with her index finger. “Are you dreaming? You were the one who fell into the water, and I pulled you out. You choked on quite a bit of water and cried for ages.” I opened my mouth, unable to refute her. “Alright, then. Do you remember the first time we went to the beach?” She looked at me blankly. “We’ve never been to the beach. Did you forget? You always said you wanted to see the ocean, but we never had the time.” A chill ran through me. She was right again. I hadn’t actually been to the beach, I had only said I wanted to go. “Also, when I was little, I had a white cat named Fluffy.” My voice tightened, my tone growing a little agitated. She frowned. “You’ve never had a cat. You were scratched by one when you were twelve, so you’re afraid of them. You avoid them whenever you see one.” I couldn’t utter another word. Every single lie, she accurately saw through. “Sleep now, don’t overthink things.” She pulled the blanket over us, wrapping me in her arms. “You’ve been acting strange today.” I rested my head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Hm?” “Nothing.” I closed my eyes. She shifted, habitually draping her arm over my waist, pulling me naturally into her embrace, just like always. I opened my eyes and met the gaze of the ghost in the corner. My mind was a tangled mess. Who should I believe? 3 Days passed like this, and I was still completely lost, a heavy stone weighing down my heart. Until one morning, Lyra was adjusting her collar. She looked at me in the mirror. “Didn’t sleep well again last night?” “Nope.” I rubbed my eyes, looking exhausted. “Dreamt all night.” She turned around, her collar now perfectly straight, and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “Antonio, I need to tell you something.” “Yeah?” “I booked a couples trip to the Maldives a while ago, wanting to surprise you,” she took my hand. “But something came up unexpectedly at the lab, and I can’t get away. Why don’t you go first? I’ll join you in three days.” I paused, surprised. She’d never let me travel alone before. “Why so sudden…” “You’ve been so stressed lately,” she said, smiling as she ruffled my hair. “Go relax. I’ll fly out as soon as I’m done with work.” A thought sparked in my mind. This was a perfect opportunity to test her. I nodded. “Okay.” She turned to pack, and I followed, leaning against the doorframe. She pulled out my favorite shirt from the wardrobe, folding it neatly. Then she carefully placed sunscreen, a baseball cap, my usual medication, and even my preferred eye mask, one by one, into the suitcase. “It’s hot there, so pack more light clothes. Don’t catch a chill, make sure to cover up at night,” she rattled on, her hands never stopping. “You have a sensitive stomach, so I put some soda crackers in your bag. Have them if you get hungry.” I watched her busy back, my eyes stinging. She remembered even these tiny details. “Oh, and that book you wanted to read last time? I downloaded it onto your tablet. You can read it on the plane if you get bored.” She turned back and smiled at me. I lowered my gaze. The more thoughtful she was, the more I felt like a scumbag. Seeing me standing by the door, frozen for so long, Lyra waved her hand in front of my face. “Alright, stop dawdling,” she zipped up the suitcase. “I’ll drive you to the airport.” She came and took my hand, pulling me out the door. I glanced back at the spirit in the corner and saw she hadn’t followed, letting out a silent sigh of relief. Good. It must just be my imagination. My eyes must be playing tricks on me. All the way to the airport, Lyra held my hand, making intermittent small talk. I stared out the window, my mind a chaotic mess. At the airport, she helped me check my luggage and then tucked the boarding pass into my hand. “Call me when you land.” “Okay.” She hugged me, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Have fun.” I walked towards security, then turned back. She stood outside the glass doors, waving at me. My nose stung. She was so wonderful, and yet I’d been doubting her all this time. I closed my eyes, silently vowing: This is the last time. I’ll never doubt her again. Once on the plane, I specifically chose a window seat. After takeoff, I gazed out the window, still seeing no sign of the ghost. The heavy stone in my heart finally lifted. It seemed I needed to schedule a check-up soon. Forcing down the lingering unease, I opened the book she had downloaded for me, letting it distract me. Upon landing, I immediately pulled out my phone and sent her a message: “Arrived safely, don’t worry.” She replied instantly: “Have a great time, waiting for you.” I stared at the screen and smiled. 4 The scenery in the Maldives was breathtaking. Every day, I sent her photos – the beach, the sunset, palm trees. She replied instantly to each one, her tone as gentle as ever. During our video call that evening, she was lounging on the sofa, bathed in warm, yellow light. “Where did you go today?” “Went diving,” I said, sprawling on the bed. “When are you coming? It’s no fun alone.” “Soon, soon,” she chuckled. “Didn’t you always want to see the Maldives? You said we had to come here for our honeymoon, I remember that.” I paused. I’d said that casually in college; I’d almost forgotten. “You still remember?” “I told you, how could I forget anything about you?” Her eyes sparkled. My nose stung with emotion. She stood up to get water, and the phone camera jostled. In that split second, I saw a blurry shadow standing in the hallway behind her. The ghost had reappeared. It was staring intently at Lyra, its expression hostile. A cold dread seeped into my bones. “Antonio? What’s wrong?” She returned with her glass of water. “Bad signal,” I forced a smile. “I’m a bit tired today, I’ll hang up.” After ending the call, I tremblingly opened a flight booking app. The next available flight was in three hours. Before boarding, I dialed her number. No answer. My heart plummeted. She never missed my calls! When I landed, it was past midnight. I rushed home. The lights were off. She wasn’t there, and neither was the ghost. I checked her phone’s location, only to find she was at a hospital. I ran out like a madman. The hospital corridor stretched long, the white lights glaring. I found the ward; the door was ajar. She wasn’t inside. But the ghost was standing by the bedside, looking down at the person on the bed. I drew closer. Lying on the bed was someone with a pale face, eyes closed, tubes everywhere. It was Lyra. I trembled, covering my mouth, barely stifling a cry. Just then, footsteps and voices echoed from the end of the corridor. “Dr. Lee, how’s the patient?” It was Lyra’s voice. “Still the same.” Closer and closer. My body felt nailed to the spot, unable to move. I could only stiffly turn my head. And there, coming into view, was a face identical to hers.

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My son won an award for his college capstone project, which came with a $2,000 cash prize. He used $1,000 to buy himself a pair of limited-edition sneakers, $500 to buy his dad a tailored suit, and the remaining $500 to book a weekend getaway for his grandparents. I thought he was saving an even bigger surprise for me, waiting with a heart full of anticipation. When he noticed me waiting, he frowned and muttered, “You’re just a stay-at-home mom. You’ve never sacrificed anything for me. What right do you have to a cut of my money?” Overhearing this, my husband looked at me with pure disgust. “Stay-at-home moms have it so easy. I’ve given you a wonderful life, and you have the nerve to be greedy for your son’s money! You’re insatiable.” Later, the whole family signed up for premium health insurance policies, leaving me as the only one uninsured. They claimed that since stay-at-home moms didn’t do any “real” work, I wouldn’t get sick. As it turned out, out of the entire family, I was the only one who developed a critical illness from years of chronic overwork. Seeing the astronomical cost of the surgery, they immediately opted to pull the plug on my medical care. In the end, I died entirely alone in a cold hospital room. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn. And my son was currently screaming in my face, calling me a control freak. 1 “All you do is hover over me and control every little thing! You won’t let me eat this, you won’t let me drink that—you’re so damn annoying! “Why don’t you just go fucking die?!” My son’s spit flew onto my face, snapping me out of a daze. Looking around, I was utterly shocked by the painfully familiar scene unfolding before me. I had been reborn. I was back in the year my son was in eighth grade! Because it was the final year before the crucial high school placement exams, I had drafted a rigorous study schedule for him. Today was the fifth day of that plan, and the moment he walked through the door, he exploded. He came in cursing and throwing a tantrum. I had barely asked him one question before he hurled that vicious insult at my face. He grabbed the expensive study tablet I had bought him, slammed it onto the floor, and stomped it into pieces. “To hell with English! If you care so much, go learn it yourself! Stop forcing your own pathetic dreams onto me and making me accomplish them for you, you selfish freak!” This was the third time he had thrown a violent tantrum this week. I looked at him and asked calmly, “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t settle for anything less than an elite prep school?” He let out a disdainful scoff. “I’ve been at the top of my class since middle school started. It’s just a prep school; do you seriously think I can’t get in?” My mother-in-law, Brenda, chimed in from the couch. “Exactly, Nora. You’re way too strict with Tyler. Our Tyler is brilliant; he doesn’t need to study all this extra junk. Your schedule is suffocating him. You need to reflect on your own behavior.” My father-in-law, Arthur, spat a sunflower seed shell onto the coffee table and nodded in agreement. I asked them, “One hour of self-study every night, three hours of tutoring on Saturday, and taking all of Sunday off. For a student preparing for high school placement exams, is that really considered strict?” Tyler hurled his heavy backpack onto the floor. “You’re a fucking control freak! You enjoy the power trip, so of course you don’t think it’s strict! I’m a human being, I need to breathe! Give me back my weeknights and weekends!” My husband, Mark, pushed the front door open, his brow deeply furrowed. “What’s all the screaming about? I could hear you guys all the way down the hallway.” He turned his gaze to me. “Nora, are you nagging Tyler again?” The entire family unanimously decided it was my fault. I remembered what happened at this exact moment in my previous life. I had desperately tried to provide evidence that if Tyler didn’t put in the effort, his grades would slip. I was rewarded with nothing but eye rolls and bitter resentment from the whole family. Looking back, I realized how pathetic and ridiculous I had been. This time, I didn’t get angry, and I didn’t panic. I just looked at my son and asked, “So, what do you want to do?” Tyler looked at me in shock, as if he hadn’t expected me to ask that. He stood frozen for a long moment before finally speaking up: “First of all, I get to eat whatever I want, and I go to sleep whenever I want. You are not allowed to manage me!” I nodded. “Okay.” 2 Tyler’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. In pure disbelief, he demanded, “Don’t patronize me! I’m being completely serious!” Mark masked his own surprise and interjected, “Nora, this isn’t the first time I’ve told you this. A growing boy needs more than just studying; he needs rest. You force him to bury his nose in books all day, you’re going to depress him. Do you really not see that you’re the problem here?” Brenda added fuel to the fire. “I’ve said from the start that Nora’s parenting methods were toxic! Our Tyler used to be such a sweet boy, and her parenting has made his temper worse and worse. People outside the family keep asking me if there’s something psychologically wrong with him and telling me to take him to a therapist!” Arthur let out a heavy grunt, angrily tossing a handful of sunflower seed shells onto the floor. He glared at me coldly. “As a mother, you cannot push a child to the brink like this! If we were living in the old days, a mother who drove her son to this point would be thrown in an asylum!” I couldn’t help but laugh. I threw my hands up. “Why is everyone getting so worked up? What did I even say?” Brenda bared her teeth and spat at me, “I don’t need you to say it to know you disagree with letting Tyler rest! It’s not like I just met you yesterday!” I ignored her and looked back at my son. “Do you have any other demands?” Tyler glanced at his dad and grandparents, then tentatively added, “On top of those two, I want you to cancel my forty-five-minute daily screen time limit. I want to be on my phone as long as I want. If I want to game, I game. If I want to watch streams until three in the morning, you are not allowed to interfere!” I nodded again. “Done.” His eyes widened even further. He immediately grabbed a pen and paper, ducked his head, and frantically scribbled down over a dozen demands. I skimmed the list. The gist of it was simple: he wanted me to completely step away from every aspect of his life. He shoved the paper toward me. “Sign it! I’ll only believe you if you sign it!” I swept my gaze over my husband and my in-laws’ reactions. They were all looking at me with smug expressions, fully expecting me to say “no,” ready to jump in and ruthlessly criticize me the moment I did. I had lived that life for nearly ten years. Tyler was not naturally gifted at academics. A concept that another student could grasp in one minute took him half an hour to fully understand. Yet, from a young age, he was obsessed with being number one and wanted everyone to call him a genius. Since he lacked natural talent but desperately wanted the glory of getting into an elite prep school, he had to work twice as hard. In my previous life, when I realized this, I weighed my career against his future and chose him. I quit my job as a teacher, dedicating myself entirely to being a stay-at-home mom. I single-handedly dragged him from the absolute bottom of his grade to the top ten. Every single day, apart from doing chores and waiting on my in-laws hand and foot, my routine consisted of buying him study materials, making schedules, tutoring him one-on-one, solidifying his knowledge, and making sure he didn’t burn out. For almost ten years, year in and year out, I did this. Though the days were monotonous and exhausting, seeing him improve made me feel it was all worth it. I swallowed his constant, unreasonable tantrums, bore the brunt of his family’s baseless accusations, and successfully molded him into an Ivy League design student who even won a prestigious award for his senior thesis. And what was the result? When he stood on that stage to give his acceptance speech, he thanked everyone under the sun. He thanked himself, his dad, his grandparents, his professors, his classmates—he even thanked the stray cats on campus. But he didn’t mention me once. When it came to the prize money, I was entirely excluded. After college, riding on the coattails of the stellar resume I had essentially built for him, he landed an incredible offer at a top firm. The very first month he got paid, he rented an apartment and moved out. For an entire year, he didn’t even come back to visit me on holidays. Later, when the years of repressed stress and exhaustion manifested into a terminal illness, I lay in a hospital bed and begged to see him. He dragged his feet, taking half a month to finally show up. The moment he walked into my room, his face was buried in his phone, and he even chuckled at whatever he was watching. When I tried to speak to him, he cut me off impatiently. “I’m an independent adult now! Are you seriously still trying to micromanage me just for playing on my phone?” After that, the only other time he came to the hospital was when I was on the brink of death. He rushed in and immediately told the doctors to withdraw all life-saving care… Now, staring at the piece of paper in front of me, I smiled. I picked up a pen and signed my name with a fluid stroke. “From today onward, you’re free, Tyler.” 3 My son literally jumped for joy. He kicked his shoes off, threw his jacket on the floor, grabbed a massive bottle of Coke, and bolted into his room to boot up his gaming PC. After playing for a bit, he yelled out into the living room. “Grandma! Order me some KFC! I want fried chicken! Two whole buckets!” Brenda eagerly obliged, as always. “Okay! Whatever my precious grandson wants to eat, Grandma will order it. Unlike some people, who micromanage every bite of food that goes into their own son’s mouth.” As she spoke, she pulled out her phone to order the food, her eyes shooting daggers in my direction, clearly waiting for me to step in and stop her. Tyler hated exercise but loved deep-fried food. At 5’11”, he was already pushing 200 pounds. He was heavily overweight, and his blood panels were all bordering on dangerous levels. I used to try desperately to help him lose weight, cooking him healthy, low-fat meals. But I couldn’t stop his dad from secretly giving him allowance money to buy junk food at school. Because of that, I strictly forbade him from eating any junk food once he got home. Over this one issue alone, the family and I had fought no less than five times. Seeing that I wasn’t saying anything, Brenda deliberately raised her voice to Arthur. “Old man, look! I ordered two whole buckets of fried chicken for Tyler!” Her voice was booming, as if she were terrified I wouldn’t hear her. I picked up my phone and walked outside to take a call, completely ignoring her. I had sent a text earlier to an old colleague asking about job opportunities, and she was calling me back. We used to teach at the same school. Later, I quit to become a housewife, and she quit to open her own private tutoring center. A year ago, when we ran into each other and she found out I had been personally tutoring my son the whole time and hadn’t really left the education sphere, she was thrilled. She practically begged me to join her company as a partner. In my previous life, I had been incredibly tempted, but the thought of Tyler needing my one-on-one attention made me refuse without hesitation. This time, I was going to reboot my life. Hearing that I was ready to join, she excitedly invited me out for dinner. I immediately grabbed my purse and got ready to leave. Seeing this, Brenda asked nervously, “It’s almost six o’clock! Where are you going? Aren’t you making dinner?” “I have plans.” “You have plans?! You can’t just leave! The whole family is waiting to eat!” Brenda scowled, her mouth gaping open like a bottomless pit. “If you have hands, cook it yourself. If you don’t, then starve.” Dropping that sentence, I walked right out the front door. I grabbed dinner with my old colleague, went shopping, and got my nails done. My mind and body experienced a level of relaxation I hadn’t felt in years. In the past, my only thoughts were helping my son be number one and taking care of the family so my husband could focus on work. My mind was always tightly wound. The smile had long vanished from my face, replaced only by deepening wrinkles with each passing day. Tonight, doing something so simple with a friend made me feel like I had traveled back ten years in time. By the time I got home, it was almost 10:00 PM. The living room lights were blazing. Mark was sitting on the couch, his face dark as thunder, waiting for me. 4 “So you finally decided to come back?” I looked at him calmly. “I’m not lost, obviously I know how to come home.” His face darkened further. He pointed at the disaster zone on the floor and yelled, “Do you see this?! Your precious son threw all this! There’s sunflower seed shells trailing all the way to his bedroom door! And chip crumbs, and dirty tissues! You turned a perfectly good house into a garbage dump! “And look at the time! He ate two buckets of fried chicken before dinner, then ate an entire takeout box during dinner, and now he had his grandmother make him a huge bowl of noodles! If he keeps eating like this, he’ll be over 200 pounds by tomorrow! “I’m not done! I just checked his backpack. He hasn’t written a single word of his homework today! He’s been playing that game since six o’clock! Is this a joke to you?” He grew more agitated the more he spoke. He turned and slapped the calendar on the wall, emphasizing, “He has midterms in ten days! And right after midterms is the parent-teacher conference! I already bragged to my coworkers that my son is a genius who always ranks in the top ten, and they’re waiting for me to send them pictures from the conference! How the hell is he supposed to get top ten with this kind of studying attitude?!” I listened quietly to his rant, then let out a small laugh. “Wow, so you actually knew all of this? I assumed you were completely clueless, considering how you always accused me of being a tyrant who was driving her child insane every time I tried to discipline him.” His face changed. He choked on his words for a long moment before squeezing out, “Don’t play games with me! You’re his mother! You know better than anyone what’s good for him! Letting him do whatever he wants is absolutely not loving him!” He waved his hand dismissively, barking an order at me. “Look, I know you’re just putting on a show to teach him a lesson, but time is precious. Drop the act and go rein him in!” I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not acting. Since I signed that agreement, I absolutely will not go back on my word. If you want to manage him, go right ahead. It’s not like he’s only my son.” He puffed his chest out righteously. “I have to work and make money to provide for you!” I pulled out the employment contract I had just signed and tossed it on the table. “What a coincidence. I have a job now too. $4,000 base salary plus commission. I start tomorrow.” He picked it up, skimmed it, and all the fire drained out of him. He started stammering, “Y-you’re serious?” I shrugged. He hurriedly walked over, pushed me down onto the couch, and started lecturing me with faux earnestness. “Why are you doing this? You have a roof over your head and food on the table. Why do you need to go out and show your face to the world? Is the $3,000 allowance I give you every month not enough?” I sneered. “Try living on it yourself, and you’ll see if it’s enough.” He fell silent for a moment, then pulled out his phone to show me a video of a female livestreamer. “Do you really think making $4,000 at a tutoring center is easy? What kind of ‘good job’ can a middle-aged married woman realistically get? They’re lying to you. In the end, they just want you to do this kind of trashy, borderline-explicit livestreaming. Look at this woman—how disgusting and cheap is she? Is that what you want to become?” His words were dripping with such vile misogyny it made me sick. I glared at him coldly. “Is your brain full of actual garbage? You’re filthy, so everything you look at seems filthy to you!” He scoffed, licked his lips, and tried another angle. “No, seriously, your son is at the most critical stage of his life right now. If he bombs his high school placement exams, he’ll have to go to some mediocre public high school. Can a mediocre high school get him into an Ivy League? Definitely not! If he doesn’t, what kind of future will he have?” I turned my head toward my son’s bedroom and shouted, “Tyler! Can you get into a top prep school without my help?!” Tyler, who just happened to be walking out to use the bathroom, heard me and let out a contemptuous laugh. “You make it sound like the only reason I got top ten before was because of you. I got those grades because I’m smart! It has nothing to do with you!” Heh. Those were the exact lines his grandparents constantly fed him to stroke his ego, and he actually believed them. His IQ really was a tragedy. 5 Seeing this, Mark’s face turned incredibly ugly. He had always played the role of the loving, indulgent father. He was nowhere to be found during the grueling daily grind of actual parenting, but the second Tyler got good grades, he’d rush to the parent-teacher conferences to soak up all the glory. After holding it in for a long time, he finally spat out, “Tyler, your mom is really mad.” My son’s face instantly darkened, and he glared at me with murderous intent. “What the fuck, are you trying to back out of the deal?!” Brenda interrupted, trying to steal my lines. “That’s right! Your mom wants to back out! You’ve eaten enough tonight, stop eating, or she’ll just nag you to death again.” Look at that. The whole family knew I was right; they just didn’t want to be the ones the kid hated. Tyler’s rebellious streak flared up. He picked up his massive bowl of noodles and started shoveling them into his mouth right in front of my face. His cheeks puffed in and out, genuinely looking like a pig at a trough. Mark and Brenda stared at me, waiting for me to blow up. Instead, I gave a bright smile and gave my son a thumbs up. “Your dad is right. You’re a growing teenager. Eat as much as you want.” In that moment, I saw a flash of unprecedented panic in Mark’s and Brenda’s eyes. Ten days passed just like that. The midterm results were posted. Ranked 200th in his grade. A catastrophic, sheer-drop decline! The entire family was convinced I wouldn’t be able to keep up the act anymore and would finally tear up the agreement.

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