Category: English

When Matthew Noth returned to Northwood after a five-year assignment, he brought a mother and daughter with him. He said Evelyn Wilson and her daughter were in a difficult situation and needed his care. The little girl nestled in his arms, sweetly calling him ‘Daddy.’ Our own daughter, Charlotte, cowered behind me, timidly greeting him. “Hello, sir.” I stood there, stunned, for a long time when I saw that scene. This time, I wasn’t jealous, nor did I argue or make a scene. But when he reached for my hand, an intense wave of nausea washed over me. I instinctively recoiled. He froze, his expression lost. 1. I froze, seeing two people standing outside the door. Matthew was holding a little girl. She was nestled in his arms, her voice soft and sweet, calling out, “Daddy, I’m hungry.” The woman standing beside him had long, wavy auburn hair. The scene looked exactly like a family of three. Five years ago, Matthew and I argued incessantly over Evelyn Wilson. The fiercest argument was when I called Evelyn a homewrecker. When I threatened divorce, I accidentally pushed Evelyn, and she fell, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. Seeing that blood, a chilling fear ran through me. When Matthew arrived, he looked at me, his narrow, indifferent eyes filled with a thin anger. That was the first time he had ever yelled at me. “Skylar, have you had enough of this damn drama?” But I’ll never forget the look Matthew gave me then. He carried Evelyn, covered in blood, to the hospital. After they left, I discovered I was bleeding too. That night, Matthew never came back. He requested a transfer and left Northwood. It was six months after he left that I discovered I was pregnant. I had wanted to terminate the pregnancy, but because it was too far along, I had no choice but to carry the baby to term. During that time, I sent him countless texts, made countless calls. Without exception, those messages disappeared into the void. I never contacted him again. I thought he was gone from my life forever, but he returned. After five years, we were both silent. My daughter, standing behind me, peeked out, cautiously calling to him. “Hello, sir. Are you here to deliver a package to our house?” Matthew looked down. When he saw my daughter, he froze, then his features softened, a faint smile playing on his lips. I quickly introduced her. “Oh, this is my daughter.” As I introduced her, it suddenly hit me. This was Matthew’s daughter too. But it was incredibly awkward. I didn’t know how to explain to little Charlotte that the man holding another little girl was her biological father. Matthew stared at Charlotte, his eyes a little red. He asked softly, “Our daughter?” I nodded. Matthew looked up, his deep, dark eyes meeting mine. “What’s her name?” Charlotte’s clear voice answered before I could. “Hello, sir, my full name is Charlotte Sterling.” “My nickname is Lottie.” I added, “Charlotte. ‘Charlotte’ as in the character, not the plant.” Hearing that, Matthew’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. He parted his lips as if to ask something, then closed them. Evelyn Wilson smiled faintly, her voice soft. “Skylar, this is my daughter. She’s four this year. I have Matthew to thank, he’s been taking such good care of us.” Matthew’s gaze was still fixed on me. He said, “I’ll take Evelyn and her daughter home first. I’ll be right back.” 2. When Matthew returned, Charlotte was already asleep. Left alone, facing each other, I felt incredibly awkward. His return was too sudden. I said, “I only have bottled water, no coffee beans or tea. Is bottled water okay?” Matthew looked at me, his eyes clear. His dark gaze held an emotion I couldn’t decipher. His voice was calm and low. “Skylar, this is my home too.” “Ah,” I responded awkwardly. “Then make yourself at home.” I’d almost forgotten, his name was still on the property deed. We sat facing each other, on pins and needles, enduring the unbearable silence. After a moment of thought, I couldn’t help but speak. “Why are you back? When are you leaving?” Matthew looked at me. He repeated, “Skylar, this is my home too.” I nodded. “When did you have the child?” I thought carefully. I had conceived right before he left five years ago. I’d started bleeding when he carried Evelyn away. “Just before you left five years ago.” Matthew paused. “I’m not leaving this time. Evelyn and her daughter are in a tough spot. One lost her husband, the other lost her father. I promised David on his deathbed that I would take care of them. I have to.” His tone brooked no refusal; it wasn’t a discussion, but a notification. I just didn’t know why he would return after being gone for so long. I gave a faint smile. “Alright, welcome back to Northwood. The guest room was cleaned by Mrs. Davis this afternoon, you can stay there.” As I stood up, his strong hand gripped my arm. He held me tightly. “What about you? Aren’t you staying with me?” I turned, pulling my hand free from his grasp. “I’m sleeping with my daughter.” Matthew’s thin lips parted, as if he wanted to say something. Being alone with him was so awkward that I immediately said, “It’s getting late. I’m tired, you should get some sleep too.” Then I quickly darted into the bedroom. The next day. Charlotte woke up earlier than I did. Matthew was kneeling in front of her, and Charlotte looked utterly bewildered. “Sir, did you stay at our house last night?” Hearing that address, Matthew’s smile stiffened slightly, then he said gently, “Lottie, I’m your daddy. Not ‘sir.’” ‘Daddy’ was too unfamiliar to Charlotte. So, when she heard the word, she shyly buried herself in my arms. I didn’t quite know how to explain to her that Matthew was her father. “Lottie, he’s your daddy.” Charlotte softly whispered, “Daddy.” Matthew’s brows lifted slightly. “Sweetheart.” After Matthew returned, we were more like roommates. His expression was calm and collected, while I felt uncomfortable and awkward. Discovering his regular schedule, I made sure to avoid him every day. He left at 8:30 a.m., and until then, I would hide in my bedroom. Only after confirming he had left would I venture out. Today, I miscalculated. When I came out, I found him and Charlotte sitting at the dining table. He was looking down, patiently feeding Charlotte. The moment our eyes met, I wished I could disappear into a hole in the ground. He, however, was perfectly natural. “Eat.” I refused. “No thanks, I’m going to be late for work.” With that, I quickly put on my shoes, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. The moment I opened it, Mrs. Davis happened to be returning from grocery shopping. Seeing Mrs. Davis was like seeing a lifeline. Matthew, however, walked around in front of me and leisurely began to put on his shoes. “I’ll drive you.” “No need.” With that, I zipped into the elevator. 3. That night, I carefully observed Matthew’s routine. He should be resting by now. But when I pushed open the door, I found him lounging on the sofa, dozing. I tried to minimize my presence, tiptoeing back to the bedroom. His clear, masculine voice broke the silence. “Skylar.” I stopped. “It’s so late, are you still awake? You should go to bed, I’m heading to my room now.” He said, “Why are you back so late?” I answered matter-of-factly, “Overtime.” Matthew stood up and walked over to me. He looked down, his eyelashes fluttering. “Tomorrow morning, I bought tickets to Universal Studios. At dinner, Charlotte said she wanted to ride the Ferris wheel.” I hesitated, then considering the child, I agreed. “Okay.” With that, I quickly ran back to the bedroom, closing and locking the door in one swift motion. 4. Before going to Universal Studios, Matthew leaned down and said softly, “Lottie, how about Daddy carries you?” Charlotte shyly glanced at him, then looked at me. I smiled. “If you want, let him carry you.” Charlotte nodded, timidly nestling into his arms. In the confined elevator, Matthew suddenly took my hand. My body stiffened, and I gently tried to pull away. But I couldn’t. His grip tightened. Matthew’s clear voice sounded, “Don’t move, I’m holding your hand.” Just as I gave up struggling, Matthew’s phone rang. He held Charlotte with one arm and my hand with the other. He looked down at me. “Can you answer that for me?” I felt a little awkward pulling his phone from his pocket. When I saw the caller ID, I froze. [Evelyn.] “It’s Evelyn Wilson.” Matthew’s expression changed immediately, turning cold. The voice on the other end of the line: “Matthew, my daughter has a fever, what should I do? I can’t get a cab.” Matthew set Charlotte down from his arms and said, “I’ll be right there.” He hung up, his eyes dark as he looked at me. “Evelyn and her daughter need me; I have to go. I’ll have my assistant drive you and Charlotte.” I took my daughter’s hand. “It’s fine, you go.” Hearing my answer, Matthew’s brows relaxed. He said, “Okay.” I called Mrs. Davis, and we took Charlotte to play all day. Matthew returned only after Charlotte had settled down for the night. I was in the dining room, drinking water. The door was pushed open. I ignored my water, setting the glass down and heading straight for the bedroom. Matthew called out, “Skylar.” His gaze was fixed on my face. I gave an awkward, polite smile. “What is it?” He slowly walked towards me, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m taking care of them, don’t be jealous.” My lips curved upward slightly. “Matthew, I’m not jealous. Evelyn and her daughter truly have a hard life; she should definitely reach out to you if she needs anything.” I thought to myself, it’s not my problem anyway. “Are you angry?” I laughed. “Of course not, I’m not angry.” Matthew probably didn’t want me to be angry, but even after I said I wasn’t jealous or angry, his expression remained grim. “It’s late, you should rest.” 5. Just like five years ago, whenever Evelyn Wilson encountered a small problem in her life, she would call Matthew away. Matthew was out early and back late, and my time with him became less frequent. I felt a lot more relaxed. However, Charlotte’s kindergarten announced a parent-child activity. Charlotte looked at me with hopeful eyes. She asked, “Mommy, can Daddy come with us?” Other children’s parent-child activities always included both parents, but not Charlotte’s. Even though she was young, she would still feel the difference. Since Matthew was back, as Charlotte’s father, he truly needed to be responsible and fulfill his role. I didn’t need a husband, but Charlotte still needed a father. Tonight, I waited for Matthew in the living room. Seeing me sitting there, he was visibly surprised. Matthew’s lips curved into a smile. “I thought you’d keep hiding from me.” Was I that obvious? Being called out so directly made me even more awkward. “It’s like this: Charlotte has a parent-child activity next week. Can you come?” Matthew’s eyes held a faint smile. “Yes.” I told Charlotte, “Daddy agreed, he’ll come to your parent-child activity next week. All three of us will go together.” Charlotte hugged me excitedly. “Thank you, Mommy.” My heart felt a little warm, and a little sad. Charlotte was too understanding. 6. On the day of the parent-child activity, I waited a long time for Matthew, but he didn’t show up. What came instead was a phone call. Matthew’s voice on the other end was a little hoarse, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I broke my promise. There was an urgent assignment; I can’t make it.” After a moment of thought, I said, “It’s alright.” During those silent minutes, I wondered if Charlotte would be heartbroken. I crouched down to comfort her. “Lottie, Daddy might not be able to make it.” Charlotte looked up, her tiny hand reaching out to hold mine. “It’s okay, Mommy. You’ll go with me.” I softly said, “Alright.” At the venue, there were very few single-parent families like Charlotte and mine. But as I looked up, I saw a familiar figure. The man’s tall stature stood out in the crowd. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, dressed in sportswear, looking clean and sharp. A female parent whispered, “That’s the parents of the new transfer student. The child’s name is Amelia Wilson, and her parents are Matthew Noth and Evelyn Wilson. Evelyn Wilson and her husband are both so good-looking, she’s beautiful herself, and her husband is so handsome, no wonder the child is also lovely.” Evelyn Wilson’s child actually had Matthew’s last name. I smiled, saying nothing, and continued listening to their gossip. Matthew still didn’t know that Charlotte and Amelia were in the same kindergarten. Because we were a single-parent family, many games were difficult to participate in. I withdrew Charlotte from the activities. As we were about to leave, I looked up and met Matthew’s gaze. He was holding Amelia in his arms. My eyebrow lifted, and I gave him a faint smile. I decided it was time to bring up the divorce. It was bound to happen sooner or later, might as well get it over with. Matthew looked momentarily lost, his expression stiff and flustered. He put the child down, pushed through the crowd, and ran towards Charlotte and me. I led Charlotte into the car. Charlotte sat in her car seat in the back. I had been steeling myself for this. “Lottie, if everyone else has a daddy, but you don’t, would you be sad?” Charlotte’s voice was clear. “No, I wouldn’t be sad. I’ve never had a daddy.” Hearing that answer, I was silent for a long time. “What about Daddy Matthew?” Charlotte said, “He’s Amelia Wilson’s daddy, not my daddy. I have a mommy.” I don’t know what to say; the sadness in my heart was overflowing. This feeling of sorrow was only because of Charlotte. Matthew had been gone for too long, so long that when I saw him again, for a moment, I couldn’t remember who the person in front of me was. I almost forgot that we were still legally married. I took Charlotte to my company. She was very well-behaved. While I worked, she sat quietly. The company was recently selecting a regional director for the Americas, and I had a chance to be promoted and transferred there. Aside from spending time with Charlotte, most of my time and energy was dedicated to work. Even if we separated, I could still provide Charlotte with an excellent life. I remember when I first found out I was pregnant, my friends and family were afraid I would fall into despair. But I didn’t. Instead, I worked even harder. Because the baby was too far along to abort, only if I was capable, with a good job, could I have the confidence to keep Charlotte by my side and the strength and courage to leave this marriage at any time.

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That year, at eighteen, I fell ill saving Jasper. Everyone in our circle said I was his lifeline. Until, Jasper’s mistress confronted me. The young, beautiful girl looked at me with pity, then showed me a video. In the video, Jasper’s friend asked, “Are you really going to marry that sickly girl? What about the canary you keep outside?” Jasper didn’t even lift an eyelid. His voice was flat. “She’s like a porcelain doll; you can’t even touch her. What normal man can put up with that?” “I’m only marrying her to repay an old kindness.” So it was just to repay a debt. I didn’t cry or make a scene. Before the wedding, I boarded a flight to America. Later, I heard that on the wedding day, the Thorne family heir, unable to find his bride, went completely mad. 1 The day Jasper’s mistress confronted me, was our six-year anniversary. The young, beautiful girl wore a vibrant red dress, high heels, radiant like a crimson rose, even carrying the heady scent of roses on her. She was the polar opposite of me. Her eyes, as she looked at me, were filled with pity. “Jasper doesn’t love you at all.” “Since you can’t even satisfy his needs, are you going to shamelessly cling to him?” I didn’t speak, but my hands, hanging at my sides, trembled uncontrollably. This girl, Clementine, had just shown me a video. In the video, Jasper’s childhood friend asked, “Are you really going to marry that sickly girl? Didn’t you say it was just for fun? Did you actually fall for her?” “And what about the canary you keep outside?” Jasper was sprawled on an expensive leather sofa, not even lifting an eyelid at the question. His expression was languid. “She’s like a porcelain doll; you can’t even touch her. What normal man can put up with that?” “Besides, even if she were an angel, after all these years, I’d be tired of playing with her, wouldn’t I?” My heart felt clutched in someone’s hand, throbbing painfully, as if it would burst with just a slight squeeze. I didn’t believe the man in the video was Jasper. He always cherished my delicate health, treating me with the utmost tenderness. Even in moments of passion, he was restrained and controlled. Even when Jasper rarely lost control, he would only gently clasp my waist and tell me, “My dear Summer, you are mine for life.” Jasper wouldn’t treat me this way. But the video continued to play. That face, the one I knew so well, moved its lips, slowly uttering the cruelest words. “I’m only marrying her to repay an old kindness.” The words “repay an old kindness” drifted lightly, yet they crashed heavily into my heart. With my tear-prone constitution, my eyes were already brimming. I bit down hard on my lip, determined not to show my discomfiture in front of Clementine. “It’s just a video. I don’t believe it.” The Jasper in this video was a completely different person from the Jasper this morning. This morning, before he left for work, he had gently kissed my forehead. “Summer, wait for me to get off work.” Videos can be faked. I’ve known Jasper for ten years; no one understands him better than I do. Jasper isn’t this kind of man. 2 Clementine seemed to have anticipated my reaction. She chuckled softly. “You really are as stubborn as I imagined.” She pulled down the collar of her dress, revealing a smattering of ambiguous kiss marks on her slender neck. When my gaze fell on those marks, I felt as though I’d been burned. Jasper loved leaving these bruised marks on my neck, and these were almost identical to Clementine’s. Clementine’s eyes held a challenging glint. “Jasper left all these on me, little by little. Hasn’t he been telling you lately that he has to work overtime because of company matters? But do you know? Jasper didn’t go to work overtime at all. He came to see me. Jasper is a man with normal needs. It’s no wonder he finds you so uninteresting in bed.” After those words, all the arguments I’d mentally constructed in Jasper’s defense suddenly vanished. Clementine was right. Jasper had strong physical needs, but my delicate health prevented me from satisfying him. Afterwards, he would always relieve himself. I once leaned on his knee, asking softly, “Doesn’t it bother you, holding back?” Jasper’s fingers traced my cheek, a light laugh escaping him. “As long as you’re here, Summer, what’s a little discomfort?” I foolishly believed him. I thought Jasper’s love for me transcended mere physical intimacy. I never imagined he was keeping a pampered mistress outside, to fulfill the needs I couldn’t meet. Clementine flaunted the ring on her finger, flashing a taunting smile. “Does this ring look familiar to you, Miss Peterson?” My gaze suddenly froze when it met the diamond ring. This was Jasper and my engagement ring. Jasper had recently told me he was taking it for cleaning and maintenance, preparing for the wedding, which was why I had taken it off. Clementine seemed quite pleased with the change in my expression. Her voice was sweet, unable to hide the boastful tone. “You don’t know? I just mentioned to Jasper that I wanted to try on this ring, and he took it from you.” My heart suddenly ached with a dull pain. So Jasper cared so much about Clementine’s casual words. He even gave her our engagement ring. Clementine noticed my mortified expression, and her smile became even brighter. “You’re truly pathetic.” She slipped off the ring and tossed it to the ground like trash, her eyes clearly malicious. “I’m tired of wearing it anyway. Here, you can have it back.” I didn’t pick it up. I just watched her calmly. “You’re much younger than me, but you might not understand one thing. A cheating cat never just steals one fish.” Clementine was too young. She didn’t understand that once a man cheats, he’ll always do it again. Just like me, I would never be Jasper’s exception. 3 I chased after Jasper for four years, but he only saw me as the girl next door. Jasper was never short of women; he always preferred the seductive type, naturally not noticing a young girl like me. That year, when I was eighteen, Jasper and I were both kidnapped. The kidnappers demanded fifty million in ransom from the Thorne family. The family reported it to the police, but the kidnappers found out. The ruthless desperadoes threw Jasper and me into a water dungeon. The dungeon was damp and dark, and the murky water even harbored venomous insects. Jasper was extremely weak, barely breathing. It was I who cut my wrist, feeding him my blood drop by drop, until rescuers finally arrived. After we got out, Jasper completely shed his former playboy image. He found out it was all the doing of his paternal half-brother. Those kidnappers ended up in his hands, their fates utterly miserable. His half-brother was confined to a villa in the suburbs and died of despair. Everyone said the Thorne family heir was ruthless and vengeful. All the women Jasper had kept around him were gone. I became the only woman by his side. The blood loss in the dungeon had damaged my constitution. I developed a chronic illness; two steps would leave me breathless, and intimacy had to be gentle. Jasper cherished me, and even in passion, he was tender and restrained. In moments of intimacy, I once asked Jasper, “Didn’t you used to prefer the sexy type?” “Don’t you feel a disconnect now, being with me?” Jasper buried his face in my chest, laughing softly. “My dear Summer, with you by my side, what need would I have for other women?” He would often say this, his hand moving to cup my breast. My face would instantly flush, and I would softly scold him, “Stop being a hooligan!” 4 Jasper returned exceptionally late today. I sat on the sofa all night, an open photo album beside me. It contained all our photos since we first met. I flipped from the first page to the last. In these ten years, Jasper truly hadn’t changed at all. I thought I would be the exception that would make him change his ways. But I wasn’t. No one could be Jasper’s exception. The current Clementine was just like I was back then—briefly, Jasper’s exception. Jasper leaned down and embraced me. “It’s so late. Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I said nothing. He lowered his head to kiss me, but I turned my head away, dodging him. Jasper chuckled softly, not annoyed. “What’s wrong? Who upset you? Or are you mad I came home late, Summer?” I looked at him calmly, saying nothing. “Don’t look at me like that, I won’t be able to resist.” Jasper’s eyes darkened. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me into his embrace. “The company has been busy lately. Next time, I’ll come home earlier to be with you, okay?” It was the same excuse again. We were close, and I smelled the scent of roses on him, the same rose perfume Clementine wore. My heart inexplicably ached. Jasper was lying again. He seemed to notice my distractedness. Jasper reached under my clothes, his hand caressing my bare skin. In the past, I would have immediately gone weak-kneed and begged for mercy, but this time, I was unusually calm. “Jasper, I don’t want to marry you anymore.” His movements stiffened, and his hand moved away from my waist, clearly losing interest. “The wedding is in a few days. Don’t make a fuss, okay?” He added, “Summer, the company has a lot going on lately. I don’t have the energy to coax you.” A dense pain bloomed in my chest. Was Jasper busy with company matters, or was he busy coaxing Clementine? My heart ached so much. Even cutting my wrist and bleeding out in the dungeon hadn’t hurt this much. Tears welled in my eyes. I suppressed a sob, asking, “Jasper, do you still love me?” “Do you really want to marry me?” The string of questions seemed to irritate Jasper. He rubbed his brow impatiently. “Summer Peterson, when did you become so dramatic?” He continued, “What more do I need to do to prove my love? Should I rip out my heart and show it to you? Just settle down and stop annoying me, okay?” Suddenly, Jasper’s phone rang. He answered irritably. “What is it?” I couldn’t see the caller ID, but I heard a girl’s tearful voice on the other end. It was Clementine. Jasper frowned, his brow furrowed with impatience. But he suppressed his volatile temper, patiently coaxing, “Stay where you are. I’ll be right there.” Jasper stood up and left in a hurry. “Something came up at the company. I’ll be back later to be with you.” The moment the door closed, my heart went completely cold. 5 Jasper never returned that night after he left. I waited alone until dawn. My fingers unconsciously slid across the screen, and I scrolled through Clementine’s social media post. The man in the photo had a peaceful, utterly exhausted sleeping face. Clementine’s face was half-visible, her smile bright, and there were intimate hickey marks on her neck. Her caption read: “Met a hooligan at the bar last night. Luckily, big brother saved me, so I rewarded him with a little sweet treat.” I rubbed my reddened eyes, suddenly feeling utterly pointless. Jasper and my wedding date was set for the fifth of next month. He had once said he would give me the grandest wedding in the world. But with only a week until the wedding, Jasper still hadn’t taken me to choose a wedding dress. He was too busy with Clementine, so busy he’d even forgotten about it. I numbly realized that promises truly only held meaning when love was present. When he returned the next day, he only told me, “I’m going abroad for business negotiations. It’ll probably take four days. When I get back, I’ll take you to pick out your wedding dress.” Jasper was lying to me again. Clementine’s latest social media post showed her wearing a pink ski suit, helmet, and mask, revealing only a pair of round, almond-shaped eyes. The caption read: “Big brother took me skiing in Iceland to see the Northern Lights! One last hurrah before the wedding.” The location was Iceland. I clutched my chest, the pain so sharp I almost cried. During those agonizing days in the dungeon, Jasper, his breath weak, had coaxed me, “Once we get out of here alive, I’ll take you to Iceland to see the Northern Lights, okay?” But he ultimately broke his promise. 6 My best friend, Hannah, video-called me then. “Summer, have you decided? Are you staying to get married here or coming to San Francisco for treatment?” Hannah had never been keen on my relationship with Jasper. She didn’t believe a playboy like Jasper would truly settle down and marry me. She now lived in San Francisco and had found a medical facility there that would be perfect for my treatment. I hadn’t made up my mind before, but now I smiled and agreed, “Okay, I’ll go to San Francisco.” Hannah on the other end of the video looked delighted. “That’s great, Summer! You’ve finally come to your senses!” After calming down, her voice became serious. “Summer, are you really giving up on Jasper?” I nodded, my voice remarkably calm. “Yes.” “I’ve given up.” Hannah sensed the heaviness of my mood and didn’t ask further, simply saying we’d talk more when we met. I went home and burned all our photos. I got rid of all the gifts he’d given me. The ring Clementine didn’t want, I tossed it in the trash. I didn’t want a ring someone else had worn. And along with it, I didn’t want Jasper either. The house was empty, leaving only some insignificant items. After doing all this, I booked a flight for the day of the wedding. I never expected that the wedding I was discarding like trash, someone else would snatch up like a treasure.

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When I was making late-night snacks for Luna Bright to come home, I stumbled upon a video of a couple tossing a coin to decide who would do the dishes. The guy held a coin, but before he could flip it, a woman’s hand covered his. Her voice was full of affection: “Just tell me what you want. No need for games, you might hurt your hand.” The woman’s voice sounded familiar. Even the bracelet on her wrist was identical to Luna’s, and the guy’s watch was the same limited edition Arthur Vance had bought his father three months ago for eight million dollars, the only one of its kind. But Luna should be working overtime at the office right now. As I stood there, stunned, the guy in the video shook his wrist, his voice laced with annoyance: “I’ve been wearing this watch for three months now. Don’t you think it’s time for a new one?” I stared at the expensive watch in the video, its dial studded with small diamonds. A chilling realization dawned: the woman in the video was my wife, Luna Bright. … I clicked on the blogger’s profile, discovering hundreds of posts. Besides himself, a three-year-old boy frequently appeared in the videos. I scrolled all the way to the bottom and found his first post from three years ago. He was holding a woman, their faces hidden. The caption read: “Thank you, my dear wife, for bringing our little one into the world.” Next to him, another middle-aged man was holding a newborn baby. That man was Luna Bright’s father. My grip tightened on the phone. I didn’t know how to process this. I racked my brain, recalling the past five years and how Luna’s father had treated me. Initially, he couldn’t stand me. After our marriage, I became a stay-at-home husband at Luna’s insistence, failing to provide for the family. Worse, due to a health issue, I couldn’t have children, making me, in his eyes, an unworthy son-in-law. But ever since Luna went on a year-long business trip to her hometown three years ago, his attitude towards me had done a complete U-turn. Not only did he stop looking down on me, but he even encouraged me several times to make things work with Luna. It turned out he already had a more satisfactory son-in-law in mind. I went back and replayed the video I’d just seen. It had been posted three days ago. That night, coincidentally, was our fifth wedding anniversary. I’d booked a restaurant a month in advance, planning a romantic dinner with Luna. She’d promised she’d be there. But that night, I waited until the restaurant closed, and she never managed to finish her “overtime” at the office. Now, watching the video, I finally understood. That night, she was with another man. When Luna finally came home, the late-night meal on the table was already cold. She noticed my dazed stare and smiled, asking, “Honey, what’s wrong? Did something happen when you went out today?” I shook my head. Luna pretended to think for a few seconds, then sat across from me, took my hand, and said softly, “Still upset about me breaking our date the other day, aren’t you? Tell you what, pick any gift you want. I’ll buy it for you tomorrow, and then you’ll forgive me, okay?” Feeling the tenderness in her voice, and remembering the video, I quietly said, “Then buy me a watch.” Luna hadn’t expected such a simple request and readily agreed. I opened my phone and showed her the watch’s picture. “Get me this one.” But when Luna saw the watch in the image, a flicker of discomfort crossed her face. I pretended not to notice, asking in a low voice, “What’s wrong?” Luna gave a forced laugh. “I heard that watch was already reserved a few days ago. But don’t worry, darling, I’ll find a way to get it for you.” “Alright, thank you, my dear wife.” After that, I didn’t want to talk to her anymore and went to the bathroom to shower. Through the trickling water, I heard Luna arguing with someone on the phone. When I came out, she was sitting on the sofa, clutching her phone, her face flushed with anger. Luna looked at me with a hint of dejection. “I’m sorry, honey, that watch has already been bought. No matter how high a price I offer, they won’t sell it to me.” She then reached out and hugged my neck, inhaling the scent of my shower gel. “It’s all my fault. I can’t even fulfill such a small request for you.” I let her hug me, saying nothing. I already knew she couldn’t buy that watch. Because in the bathroom, I had just seen the blogger post a new video. “Just received my new watch from my husband.” “Phew, so close! Some jerk almost snatched it away.” The comments below were a mix of envy and teasing. “You should be worried about someone snatching your wife, not just the watch.” “Your wife is so rich and generous, surely many men out there want your spot.” The blogger posted a disdainful emoji. “Those men out there are old and ugly, and they can’t compare to me in bed. How could my wife possibly be interested in them?” I understood his insinuation. Five years into our marriage, I hadn’t worked due to my health. In our intimate life, she had always accommodated me, a few times a year without complaint, never pressuring me. Now it seemed, her leniency was more out of guilt. The next day, as soon as Luna left, I hailed a cab and followed her. There was nothing at her company today, so I was sure she would go to see that man again. I needed to find out where he lived, this man who had allowed Luna to juggle two families for years without me ever finding a single flaw. However, to my surprise, she drove directly to an amusement park. At the entrance, I saw a man in the distance, holding a child. The moment the child saw Luna, he loudly called out, “Mommy!” “Since I promised to come, I wouldn’t break my word.” Luna skillfully took the child from the man, kissed the child, then kissed the man. The man pouted in dissatisfaction. “If I hadn’t opened the watch and worn it last night, were you going to give it to your husband?” Luna chuckled, teasing the child. “How could I? I was just putting on a show for him. Anything I give you is yours, I wouldn’t take it back. Besides, in my heart, where would he even rank compared to you?” My hands clenched, my mask hiding my face as I followed them. Hearing her words, my heart twisted with an agonizing pain. Just last night, Luna had held me, promising that even if I never worked a day in my life, it wouldn’t affect our relationship. She would work hard and support me forever. Not having children was fine; being DINKs for life was perfectly good. For a fleeting moment, I had truly believed her. Believed the video I saw was fake, and the blogger’s account was fake. But now, her actions unequivocally told me that everything I saw was real, and her love for me was fake. I didn’t know what I had done wrong. Luna bought tickets with the man at the entrance, then they entered the amusement park. Watching the two of them with the child, my heart was filled with the bitter resentment and anger of deception and betrayal. As they were about to turn a corner, I pulled out my phone and called Luna. The first time, she hung up when it rang. I wouldn’t give up, and called again. Luna frowned, handed the child to the man, and answered the phone. “Arthur, what’s wrong?” I bit my lip, trying to keep my voice sounding normal. “Nothing. Just thought you’ve been working so hard these past few days. I made some soup for you at home and just arrived downstairs at your company.” Luna on the other end of the line immediately sounded flustered. “Could you… maybe wait at the coffee shop nearby? I’ll be right down.” “Okay.” I hung up. Not far away, Luna spoke to the man, who seemed a little angry. But eventually, the two of them came out with the child. I stood aside, watching her hail a cab for the man and child, then drive straight to her company. Inside the coffee shop, Luna looked at my empty hands, her eyes filled with surprise. “Honey, didn’t you say you came to bring me soup?” I gave a bitter laugh, looking at her calmly. “Luna, let’s get a divorce.” “Why?” Luna’s eyes were filled with shock and disbelief. “Arthur, did something happen to you? Haven’t we been perfectly fine all these years? Why are you suddenly talking about divorce?” I remembered the harmonious image of their family of three at the amusement park entrance, and smiled forlornly. “My health isn’t good, and I won’t be able to have children. I shouldn’t hold you back.” However, Luna took my hand, her eyes full of sincerity. “Honey, I already told you, even without children, our feelings for each other won’t be affected at all. This divorce business—” Before she could finish, her phone rang suddenly. Luna glanced at the screen and immediately hung up. But the next second, the call came in again. Luna frowned, didn’t answer, but looked at me and said in a low voice, “Arthur, I won’t divorce you. There’s an emergency meeting at the company, I need to go up. I’ll talk to you more when I get home tonight.” Watching her hurried escape, I already guessed who that call was from. After she left, I clicked on the man’s profile again. His latest video was filmed at the amusement park. A woman holding a child appeared in the shot, but her face wasn’t visible. He buried his head in the woman’s shoulder, his face looking somewhat unhappy. “That damn jerk is so annoying. No wonder he’s plagued by illness his whole life.” “My wife promised to celebrate Baby’s birthday today, but he still called her away.” However, the comments below this video weren’t admiring him as before; people had noticed a blind spot. The woman who constantly appeared with him was expensively dressed, worth at least tens of millions, but under what circumstances would she be called away at any moment by another man? A daring netizen directly pointed it out in the comments section. “Is the blogger this woman’s kept man?” “Otherwise, why has your wife never shown her face all this time?” “And she can casually buy you an eight-million-dollar watch, how could she be called away so easily?” Other netizens quickly caught on. “Yeah, it must be the wife calling him away, that’s why his ‘wife’ was called away.” “Oh, can’t call her his wife now. After all, he’s just a kept man.” “Disgusting homewrecker, so shameless, still complaining about the actual wife.” The man wanted to prove himself, but besides the pile of gifts Luna had given him, he couldn’t produce any evidence to prove his relationship with her. A netizen asked him to post their marriage certificate directly, and the man, flustered, immediately deleted the video. I smiled, watching his panic and helplessness. Of course, he couldn’t produce it, because the person who registered their marriage with Luna back then was me. Luna and I met in college. She came from a poor background and tried to start a business repeatedly, but always failed. To reassure her, I married her right after college, even breaking ties with my parents for it. “Luna, don’t worry, no matter what happens, I’ll be with you forever.” Luna, looking at the two marriage certificates, her eyes instantly red, cried out loud in my arms. “Arthur, I will never let you down in this life. I’ll make sure your parents believe you didn’t choose the wrong person.” Later, Luna carefully treasured those two marriage certificates. But the damp basement seemed too small to contain two young, fervent hearts. I touched the marriage certificate, its edges already worn from the damp environment years ago, my heart filled with bitter pain. Seven years of love, from a basement apartment to a grand flat, I always thought we were the happiest couple. But it turned out that for more than half of our relationship, she was busy managing her other family. My phone chimed, a new video from that man. “Tonight is Baby’s birthday party.” “My wife and father-in-law will be here soon.” “Then you’ll all know I’m not a homewrecker.” I looked at the location tag under his video and realized the hotel was less than ten kilometers from me. Since that was the case, I should also prepare a gift for Baby. Before leaving, I called Luna again. “What time are you coming home tonight?” In the past, whenever I mentioned breaking up or divorcing, she would always rush home early to coax me. But now, the person on the other end of the line was clearly flustered. “Honey, I have to work overtime tonight, so I probably can’t come home to be with you. Don’t worry, when I get back tomorrow, I’ll make it up to you properly.” Then, afraid I was still angry about what happened at lunch, she quickly added, “If there’s anything I’m doing wrong, just tell me. But you can’t talk about divorce again.” Before I could speak, she hung up directly. I calculated the time, changed my clothes, and took a taxi there. The hotel was huge. As I searched, one by one, Luna was holding the child and toasting with the man to people nearby. On the large screen, joyful red letters read: “Thank you all for coming to the birthday party of Lucas Bright-Kennedy, son of Luna Bright and Liam Kennedy.” I sneered and walked directly in. Back when Luna and I got married, we didn’t have a wedding ceremony. So, over the years, besides her father, I hadn’t met any of her other relatives. But even though I was a stranger to them, no one noticed me. They were all looking up at the two people in the center. “Luna is so lucky! Great at making money, and her husband is so family-oriented.” “Yes, and they had a son as their first child, such good fortune.” “Indeed, I always said she was most compatible with that Kennedy boy.” “Look at them now, such a happy and complete family.” “Her dad said they’re planning to have a daughter this year too.” “After all, having both a son and a daughter is truly a great blessing.” I listened to the conversations around me, feeling the blood in my body turn cold inch by inch. They wanted a son and a daughter, but no one ever cared what would happen to me, whose marriage had been destroyed. Looking at Luna not far away, I was about to step forward but was pulled back by someone. “Hey, young man, are you Luna’s colleague?” “You look quite young. Are you married?” “We have a few pretty girls in our village, want me to set you up?” They talked and tried to pull me to a seat. I struggled fiercely, but my voice was calm. “I’m not Luna Bright’s colleague. I’m her husband.” Someone nearby laughed. “You’re talking nonsense! Luna’s husband is right there beside her. It’s such a happy day, you shouldn’t joke around. If you really want to get married, I’ll introduce you to someone good.” “I said I’m her husband.” I violently flung off the hand holding me, accidentally knocking a glass to the floor. The crisp sound of shattering glass instantly drew everyone’s attention. My father-in-law saw me and his face instantly filled with panic. Before he could stop Luna, she had already turned around. Luna’s eyes were wide with shock and helplessness, and even the child in her arms started wailing. Watching this absurd scene, I ignored the stinging pain from the broken glass on my wrist and walked step by step towards her. “Wife, didn’t you say you were working overtime at the company?” Luna noticed the injury on my hand and quickly handed the child to the man beside her, then helped me sit down. “Arthur, you’re hurt.” But I repeated my earlier question. “Didn’t you say you were working overtime at the company?” Luna heard the choked sob in my voice, and a trace of guilt flashed in her eyes. “Arthur, I can explain all this. But you need to go to the hospital and get your wound treated first.” She was about to take my hand, but I pushed her away, suppressing the tears that threatened to overflow, and asked in a hoarse voice, “What more do you have to explain? Is everything I’m seeing here fake?” Seeing the relatives around us beginning to watch with a hint of schadenfreude, Luna’s patience visibly thinned. “Arthur Bright, can you please stop making a scene? I have my reasons for all this.” “Slap!” The moment her words fell, I slapped her across the face. I looked at Luna’s turned head and said with a cold laugh, “Luna Bright, I thought you at least had some backbone. But I never imagined that even after cheating, you wouldn’t have the courage to admit it to my face. You say you have your reasons, but are your reasons for having another man’s child behind my back?” Before Luna could speak, my father-in-law rushed over, raising his hand and slapping me across the face. “How dare you hit my daughter?” I endured the stinging pain in my cheek, glaring at him, and roared, “How dare I? Because she’s been two-timing, deceiving me, betraying me! She did this to me, so why can’t I hit her?” My father-in-law, his face full of fury, scoffed disdainfully. “Hmph, I’ll tell you the truth, Luna has long been tired of you. A man who isn’t even a real man, daring to occupy my son-in-law’s position. Even if you hadn’t shown up today, Luna was going to divorce you.”

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I, Vivian, reconciled with Matt Thorne five years after our messy breakup. The last time, it hadn’t been amicable at all. He announced his new girlfriend the very next day after we ended things. This time, he pursued me again, and I said yes. Some say a reformed bad boy is worth more than gold. Others say a broken mirror can never truly reflect again. I say, “There are only three possibilities for a broken mirror to mend: either there was no mirror to begin with, or it was never truly broken, or it was never truly mended. Guess which one I am?” 1 After we got back together, Matt was better than before, or rather, he cared more. He frequently updated his social media with declarations of love, always tagging me. Years ago, I might have thrilled at such grand public displays. Now, I felt a little flat. After all, I wasn’t the first woman to appear on his feed, and perhaps not the last. The same old expressions, the unchanging phrases, the identical sentiments. It was quite uninteresting. I remember when we first started dating, a simple “I love you” from him could send me into raptures. And his “Let’s break up” had kept me awake for nights. I had even prepared to swallow my pride and beg him to take me back, only to wake up the next morning and see his announcement: a photo of intertwined hands against a hotel backdrop. I cried endlessly, lost weight, suffered insomnia, and my hair fell out. I had practically cried myself dry over that relationship, eventually feeling disoriented. To avoid painful memories, I even gave up a good job I’d found locally, leaving my hometown to start afresh alone. The harshness of that breakup was still vivid, so my friends scoffed at my reconciliation with Matt. Whenever they asked about our progress, they couldn’t help but warn me. “Don’t take it too seriously. In this world, whoever gets serious first loses.” “Vivian, there are plenty of other fish in the sea!” “As long as you’re happy.” Honestly, I wasn’t overthinking it. Perhaps I just have a stubborn streak that won’t give up until hitting rock bottom. Regardless, I was walking down this path again, unsure of what lay ahead. 2 I didn’t reply to any of his social media posts, even though I’d seen his tags long ago. In my free time, I’d even ‘like’ posts from some ‘gym bros’ – my feed was full of things that weren’t exactly sophisticated. I was careless, thinking I was browsing on a secondary account, so I felt somewhat unrestrained. Until he commented under one of my likes, “Does he have a better body than me?” and then deleted it instantly. He pretended nothing had happened, maintaining a calm facade, never even mentioning it. He wasn’t like this before. He used to dislike me adding other men on social media, he hated it when others chatted me up, and he was always extremely possessive about my male acquaintances. Once, he even threw a fit because someone brought me food, though I insisted it was just a thank-you. He gave me the cold shoulder for days. Later, I understood that men truly know the darker aspects of other men. But this time, he was surprisingly patient. Though, I suddenly noticed he started spending more time at the gym. He used to go three days a week; this week he’d already been five. One weekend afternoon, while I was scrolling through videos, he suddenly walked up behind me, grabbed my hand, and pressed it against his abs. Then he asked, “How does that feel?” I smiled. So that was it. He wasn’t indifferent; he cared even more, but he’d learned to be discreet, or was willing to change himself to accommodate me. You see, everyone changes in love; it just depends on how much you care. At least, for now, Matt didn’t want to break up. That was the signal he was sending me. I reached out, tracing his abs and waistline, and gave a small nod of approval. “Just wondering if it’s all for show, or if it actually works?” He scooped me up from the balcony and carried me back to the bedroom, disproving my skepticism with his actions. 3 I woke up early the next day, roused by Matt’s commotion in the kitchen. I’d lived alone for so long, I was no longer used to having an extra person around. And his breakfast, as always, was inedible, which only added to my irritation. He looked at me, a little embarrassed, and smiled. “They’re not very familiar with me yet. It’ll be better after I make them a few more times.” Do you understand? He was hinting that he wanted to come over more often. Because last night, I’d hesitated about him staying over, only relenting when I realized his pants were dirty and he truly couldn’t leave. I said nothing. I was still adapting to us being back together, let alone having another person in my daily life. I looked at the burnt bacon on the table, and my thoughts drifted. The day before Matt and I broke up, it was also because of a piece of burnt bacon. I had made two servings of bacon and eggs, one for me, one for him. I was new to cooking, so it wasn’t very good. His boss ate it and rudely made fun of him. Matt texted me, complaining, “Why can’t you even do this one small thing right? I don’t want to talk to you.” At the time, he was a fresh intern, and new graduates often felt a natural reverence and desire to please their superiors. I understood he’d be upset after being publicly ridiculed. I could even accept him not answering my calls all day. It was only when I heard nothing from him all night that I started to panic. He wasn’t a very mature person; he often acted like a difficult little boy around me, but he hated silent treatments. So, then, I wasn’t worried about his anger, but his safety. At three in the morning, he replied: “Let’s break up.” No name, no reason, a sudden, out-of-the-blue breakup. Looking back at the messages from just the day before, it read: “Vivian, my boss praised me! I’ll take you out for a nice meal later!” “Love you, love you! I literally can’t live without you!” “Hehehehe, I’m awesome, right?” How did I feel then? Saying the sky fell wouldn’t be an exaggeration, because I was so, so deeply in love with him. I was still caught in the throes of new love, and at the moment of the breakup, I couldn’t even make any other expression besides bewildered emptiness. That day, I stared out the window, recalling our three years together. I firmly believed that being loved wasn’t an illusion. There must have been some misunderstanding I hadn’t noticed. As the sun burst over the horizon, I resolved to salvage the relationship. I spent the entire night convincing myself not to regret not trying harder. I drafted long speeches in my head, thought of countless apology templates, and even swore I’d never eat bacon again. But just before I left the house, I scrolled through his social media. A photo of intertwined hands against a hotel backdrop, with my initials still clearly visible on his wrist. The caption read: “New beginnings.” I thanked my own hesitation, for not adding more fodder for laughter to his new chapter. 4 I tossed the bacon in the bin. He quickly interjected, “I was just about to throw it away. Burnt food isn’t good for you, after all.” Seeing his cautious demeanor was like looking in a mirror; I saw my past self through him now. Was he as unperturbed then as I was now? I looked at him and smiled, saying, “No, I don’t eat bacon anymore. It makes me sick, and I feel unwell all day.” He pressed his lips together, his eyes and voice already tinged with melancholy when he spoke. I knew that both of us were recalling that burnt bacon from before our breakup. It was no longer just a piece of bacon. For me, it symbolized loss, being broken up with, and abandonment. I watched him stalk into the kitchen, almost defiantly, and dump the entire bag of bacon he’d just bought into the trash. Then, he had to save face with, “Right, cured meats aren’t good for you if you eat too much.” I simply gave him an enigmatic smile. After working in my room for half the day, I came out near noon to find Matt gone. He had ordered food and thoughtfully transferred it from the takeout boxes to plates. A cute sticky note was attached: “You were too focused on work, so I didn’t disturb you. No need to wash up after eating, I’ll be over tonight.” Over again tonight? He was certainly persistent. I picked up the sticky note, took a photo, and casually tossed it into the trash. As the paper dropped into the bin, I suddenly remembered how enthusiastic I used to be about collecting such small tokens of love. I had a notebook filled with excerpts of all the messages we’d exchanged, tucked between countless notes and letters he’d written me, and various pressed leaves. I cherished them as proof of his affection. Later, they became instruments of my torment after the breakup, until I finally burned them myself. 5 Around noon, as I was doing the dishes, Matt texted me, asking if I had eaten. It was then that I realized I hadn’t sent him that photo. I dried my hands, found the picture, and clicked send: “Just ate, thanks for the lovely lunch.” He called me immediately, his tone plaintive. “Forgetting about me because you were busy this morning is one thing, but how could you forget to share with me when you were eating food I prepared?” “You prepared it?” He laughed. “I ordered the takeout and plated it myself. How is that not ‘prepared by me’? Just you wait. Tonight, I have to come over and prepare a feast for you.” I was thinking of how to refuse, as I still felt like I hadn’t fully adjusted to his frequent intrusion into my life. He suddenly remembered something and asked, “Are you busy tonight? Aaron and the guys want to have dinner with you.” Aaron was Matt’s college roommate. We used to be quite close; after all, we’d been together for so long. But after breaking up with Matt, I’d cut off contact with everyone connected to him. I was silent for a while, and Matt, thinking I didn’t want to go, quickly added, “Hmm, if it’s inconvenient, never mind. We’ll find another time to get together.” “Tonight is fine. I’m free. Text me the place.” “Okay, I won’t text you. I’ll pick you up. I’ll be downstairs around 5:30.” At 5:10, I saw his car parked downstairs. He had the window down, smoking, his profile not looking much different from a few years ago. The only difference was that since we’d reconciled, he hadn’t smoked in front of me. I was already ready, but I still sat on the sofa until 5:40 before heading down. The moment he saw me, he immediately extinguished his cigarette. I noticed the empty pack on his dashboard. He hastily explained, “I forgot to check the time. I just thought I’d have a couple of puffs.” I asked him, “Why didn’t you call when you arrived early?” “Once, I came to pick you up early, and you saw me from upstairs. You bounced down the stairs like a little rabbit, so surprised and happy.” He said this, glanced at me, then continued, “I thought it might happen again today.” Oh, he knew I’d seen him from the window. Since getting back together, this was the first time I felt that we were constantly playing a game. Probing, hesitating, strategizing—these were the unavoidable challenges of love. “I’m twenty-nine now. Am I still expected to act like an immature young girl?” He mumbled a subtle assent, slowly steering the car forward, his expression unreadable. 6 Besides Aaron, Ben was also there, another one of Matt’s college roommates. Everyone was very enthusiastic upon seeing me, as if the five years of no contact between us simply didn’t exist. Matt’s face flushed easily when he drank, and after two beers, his face was bright red, but his hand never let go of mine. Aaron teased him, “Dude, you’re even eating with your left hand. Are you going to starve yourself? What, scared Vivian will run off?” Ben chimed in, “Relax, man, everyone knows Vivian was crazy about you. When you two broke up, she camped outside our dorm for days. When she couldn’t find you, she came looking for us. I was actually scared of getting cornered by her.” Yes, that first week after the sudden breakup was the hardest. When I couldn’t find Matt, I started harassing his roommates, desperately asking if he’d been back, or who he was getting close to. It was nearing college graduation, and everyone was swamped with job hunting, yet they had to put up with my harassment. Looking back, it was pretty pathetic. I picked up a glass of wine from the table and raised it to the two across from me. “Just youthful foolishness, gentlemen. Please bear with me, and don’t be angry.” I chugged the wine in one go, astonishing the three men at the table. Throughout the meal, Aaron and Ben kept repeating the same old lines. “Matt, it wasn’t easy for you and Vivian to get back together. You really need to cherish her and not make any more mistakes, because not everyone gets a second chance.” “Come on, let’s toast to true lovers ending up together.” “It’s so great, it’s really great that you two are back together.” When the evening ended, I dropped Matt off at his place. I stood at the door without going in. “I have plans tomorrow, so I’m leaving now. Will you be okay by yourself?” He asked me, “If I said I didn’t want to be alone, would you stay with me?” I looked at him, saying nothing. He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Just before we left, they all said you’ve changed a lot, completely different from before. I originally wanted to argue, but looking at you now, I realize I have no defense. Vivian, you’ve changed.” Yes, of course I’d changed. Who could remain unchanged in the river of time? Appearance, personality, values – which of these isn’t shaped by the crucible of experience? Hadn’t he changed too? He hugged me for a long time without speaking. Just as I started to feel tired and tried to push him away, I felt something warm trickle into the hollow of my neck. Matt murmured in my ear, “You’ve changed… is it because of her?” Which ‘he’? Or ‘her’?

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After cancelling my engagement to my arch-nemesis I finally got my wish: I married his uncle, Arthur Marston. For three years, I curbed my rebellious streak, playing the dutiful Mrs. Marston. Even when he forgot my birthday, I swore I’d melt his heart. Then came our anniversary. I’d booked a yacht, hired a line of male models, and video-called Arthur. His face remained impassive, despite the lavish scene on my end. “Something wrong?” he asked. The next second, I heard a woman’s voice from his side. “Arthur, who’s calling?” Before I could press for details, the call ended. Simultaneously, a tipster sent a photo. In it, Arthur was smiling gently, tenderly draping his jacket over his college sweetheart. Just then, a text popped up from my arch-nemesis. “Auntie Evelyn, are you getting a divorce this month?” Usually, I’d snap back, calling him crazy. But this time, I was finally going to give him what he wanted. … I typed two words into the chatbox: “Let’s do it.” The moment I hit send, all my excitement drained away. “Alright, everyone, that’s a wrap. You’ll all be paid.” The male models exchanged glances, then discreetly headed into the cabin, clutching their tips. My best friend, Serena Hayes, slid onto the seat beside me, offering a glass of warm water. “Evie, are you… actually serious this time?” She looked at me, as if struggling to believe I’d truly let go. I sighed. “Three years. Even if Arthur Marston were a stone, cradled against my heart, it should have warmed by now.” I used to believe that hearts were made of flesh and blood. For him, I’d risked being labeled a betrayer, breaking off my engagement to Julian Marston. It all stemmed from that kidnapping seven years ago. Trapped in a dark, damp abandoned warehouse, I’d despaired, convinced I was going to die. It was Arthur who burst in, bloodied, taking a fatal knife blow for me. In that moment, I knew he was my soulmate. And he hadn’t always been this cold. I was Evelyn Sterling, the rebellious heiress of the Sterling family. Car racing, boxing—I dabbled in everything. At family gatherings, the elders would passive-aggressively criticize my lack of “ladylike” charm, shaming the family name. Only Arthur would quietly defend me. “Evelyn’s fine the way she is. Besides, the Sterling family doesn’t need an heir who’s just for show, does it?” Those words sealed my fate. I plunged headfirst into a marriage destined for heartbreak. What I didn’t realize was that his tenderness and protection would vanish the moment I insisted on marrying him. After the wedding, Arthur was a changed man. Distant, cold, like a machine programmed only to fulfill obligations. No matter how much I tried to rein in my temper for him, learned to cook his favorite dishes, or even ditched my beloved racing gear for demure outfits he preferred, he never noticed. Then, Julian told me about Laura Kennedy. A girl from a humble background, she was his college sweetheart, his “white moonlight.” The Marston family matriarch disapproved of her origins. Coincidentally, I was also clamoring to marry into the Marston family. So, with a sum of money and a plane ticket, Laura was forced to leave the country. To avoid a family rupture, Arthur reluctantly married me. But he blamed me for everything. He believed I had bullied his beloved away. I tried to explain, but all I got was his icy stare. “Evelyn, I already agreed to marry you. What more do you want?” It wasn’t until today, seeing it with my own eyes, that I truly understood: all his warmth was reserved for Laura. In the photo, he gently took off his coat and draped it over Laura’s shoulders. The tenderness in his eyes was something I wouldn’t dare dream of. I admit it, I lost. It turns out that relentlessly pursuing a dead end only leads to a broken spirit. My phone vibrated suddenly. It was Julian’s reply. I could almost picture him, on the other side of the world, raising an eyebrow at my message. My thoughts drifted back to the day I broke off our engagement. Julian tossed me the keys to his limited-edition Bugatti, a playful smirk on his face, though his eyes held no real warmth. “Evelyn, are you absolutely sure?” he’d asked. “You know, forcing a relationship never ends well.” At the time, my heart was so full of Arthur, I couldn’t hear a word he said. “Mind your own business! I’d rather die in his hands!” Julian stared at me for a long moment, then let out a scoff. “Alright, don’t come crying to me later.” Despite his harsh words, for the past three years, his texts had arrived like clockwork at the beginning of each month. “Still not divorced?” “This month? Yes or no?” I’d always call him insane, but he seemed immune, repeating the pattern the next month. One time, furious at Arthur’s cold shoulder, I went back to my family home and ran into Julian. He was leaning against his car, smoking, his voice a little hoarse through the hazy smoke. “Evelyn, just say the word.” “Even if the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you, and you’ll walk out of the Marston family clean.” Now, I wondered if I should have turned back sooner. My phone vibrated again, two new messages from Julian: “One week, tops.” “I’ll be back to handle the paperwork myself.” Serena glanced at my screen, her brow furrowed. “A family alliance like ours is a complex thing. If news of a divorce gets out, both family stocks will plummet. Walking away clean won’t be easy.” I forced a bitter smile, draining my wine glass. That night, I was practically carried home, utterly drunk. By Arthur’s schedule, he’d be long asleep by now. I stumbled into the villa, but then a strange feeling crept over me. Usually, Arthur’s wolf, Fang, loved to rest here. It gave no quarter to anyone but Arthur. Even if I offered it the freshest meat, it would only bare its teeth and growl at me. But now, its custom-made kennel was empty. I sobered up instantly. Fang was Arthur’s beloved pet. If it ran off, or got hit by a car… It was still a living creature, no matter what. Even if I was getting divorced, I didn’t want anything to happen to Fang. “Fang… are you around?” I whispered, searching through the bushes, stumbling over my feet. Finally, behind a thick patch of grass, I saw those glowing green eyes. It watched me warily, a low, warning growl rumbling in its throat. Thank goodness, it was Fang. I sighed in relief, squatting down, cautiously extending my hand. “Don’t be scared, come back with me…” The next second, it lunged, its fangs savagely embedding themselves in the web of my hand. I cried out, blood gushing instantly. After that bite, it turned and darted deeper into the garden. Ignoring the pain in my hand, I stumbled after it. The main house garden, which should have been dark, was now lit by several warm, yellow floor lamps. I chased, breathless, about to call for help to catch the wolf. But when I saw the scene before me, the words caught in my throat. On a garden bench, Arthur and Laura sat side by side. Fang, who had just been so aggressive towards me, was now docilely lying at Laura’s feet, as obedient as a house dog. Laura bent down, her eyes wide with surprise, and embraced it. “Fang, is that really you? I can’t believe you’ve grown so big, and you still remember your mama!” I froze. How did she know Fang? Laura looked up at Arthur, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “Arthur, I thought this wolf we rescued had been sent away long ago. I can’t believe you brought him home and raised him so well.” Listening to her reminisce, Arthur nodded. “He really does still like you. These past few years at home, he wouldn’t let anyone touch him but me.” No wonder. For three years, no matter how hard I tried to approach it, I was met only with coldness and suspicion. It turned out this wolf was just like its owner. Its heart had already chosen someone. I felt like a clown, endlessly trying to warm up to someone who couldn’t care less. Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. Laura seemed to “suddenly” notice someone else was there. She gasped, shrinking into Arthur’s embrace as if startled. “Arthur, who’s that?”

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While I was trying on wedding dresses, my boyfriend, Ryan Sterling, told me he was too busy to join me. But then, I turned around and saw him in the bridal shop, helping another woman try on gowns. “This is Amelia Thorne, a neighbor I grew up with. She’s getting married soon too, so I’m just helping her pick out a dress.” I wasn’t happy, but I didn’t make a scene. I knew he disliked it when I did. Late that night, his phone rang. “Amelia’s fiancé suddenly ran off. I need to go check on her.” He ignored my pleas to stay and left, abandoning me, who was terrified of the dark, without a second thought. Twenty minutes later, he called. “Scarlett, I have to marry Amelia first. If she’s unmarried and pregnant, she’ll be shamed.” “She’ll divorce me after the baby is born. Our wedding will just be postponed by a year, that’s all.” If that’s how it is, then you go and marry your Amelia. I won’t wait. 1 “Ms. McKay, this gown looks absolutely stunning on you.” The bridal consultant gushed, practically climbing over herself to praise me, clearly desperate for me to choose their boutique. “Ms. McKay, when will the groom be joining us? Would he like to try on the matching tuxedo?” “He’s busy today, maybe another time,” I replied, trying to keep a cheerful facade. I’d called my fiancé, Ryan Sterling, several times, but he’d either said he was swamped or simply stopped answering. Changing into another gown at a different boutique, I emerged from the dressing room, only to hear Ryan’s voice. “Amelia, you look absolutely gorgeous in this dress.” That genuine, heartfelt praise… it had been so long since I’d heard anything like that from Ryan. He turned, seeing me, and his expression flickered, a complex mix I couldn’t quite decipher. “Ryan, you said you were busy. Who is this? Are you… trying on wedding dresses?” I kept my voice level, the anger and questions bubbling just beneath the surface. “This is Amelia Thorne, a neighbor I grew up with,” he explained, a little too quickly. “She’s also getting married soon, so I’m just helping her pick out a dress.” “You said you were swamped,” I pressed. “I just finished up, then came over. What, do you think I’m lying to you?” A few other customers and consultants started whispering, their eyes darting our way. “Just go home, Scarlett. I’ll explain everything later tonight.” I went home and waited, but he didn’t return until late evening. “I’m going to throw these clothes straight into the washer. They’re a bit dirty.” He always just tossed his dirty laundry on the sofa for me to deal with, but tonight, he was unusually particular. “I’m going to shower quickly, I’ll be right out.” I noticed the bareness of his neck and couldn’t help but ask, “Where’s that good luck charm I got for you?” “Oh, I don’t know, it must have fallen off somewhere. You can just get another one, can’t you?” He looked away, evasive, before ducking into the bathroom. When I pulled his shirt from the washing machine, it reeked of strong perfume – the exact scent I’d smelled on that woman this afternoon. There was even half a lipstick print on the collar. When Ryan emerged from the bathroom, he saw the shirt in my hand and his face clouded. “What, are you starting to interrogate me now?” “Were the perfume and lipstick from that woman this afternoon? What exactly is your relationship with her?” Perhaps he hadn’t expected me to be so direct, because he froze for a moment. “She was trying on dresses this afternoon, we bumped into each other. What else is there to say?” he scoffed. “Or do you think I’m messing around behind your back?” As he spoke, he snatched the shirt and threw it onto the sofa. A glass of water was knocked to the floor with no warning, shattering into a thousand pieces. One shard, as if by cruel design, sliced my arm. Blood slowly seeped out. “Why are you so careless? Can’t you even avoid broken glass? Always so clumsy.” 2 His words were nothing but blame, devoid of any concern, just like every other time. “Could you… get me some antiseptic and a bandage, please?” “I don’t know where those things are. Just do it yourself.” With that, he swaggered over to the sofa and plopped down. I’d taken such good care of him these past few years that he’d become utterly useless. By the time I’d cleaned and bandaged my wound and returned to the sofa, his phone rang. “I have to go out. Amelia’s fiancé just ran off.” He made to rush out, but I grabbed his arm. “Please don’t go. Doesn’t she have other friends? Does it have to be you? It’s so late, and I’m scared to be alone. You know I hate the dark.” He didn’t even glance at me, forcefully batting my hand away. His hand landed exactly on my freshly bandaged wound. Blood immediately began to soak through. He frowned, looking at it briefly. “Things have priorities, Scarlett. If you’re scared of the dark, just leave the lights on.” Without a backward glance, he slammed the door shut. So, my pain and my fear were just minor inconveniences? I sat on the sofa, waiting, until the middle of the night. Then I started calling him, frantically. It was the twelfth call before he finally picked up. “When are you coming home?” He sighed, an irritated sound, punctuated by Amelia’s faint sobs in the background. “Can you just chill? I’ll come back when this is sorted. Why are you rushing me?” Before I could reply, his tone softened slightly. “Scarlett, our wedding might have to be postponed. I… I have to marry Amelia first.” 3 “Are you joking, Ryan? We’re getting married soon!” “I’m not joking. Wait for me to come home, and I’ll explain.” The news hit me like a bolt of lightning, completely blindsiding me. I didn’t know if he was serious or just playing a cruel joke. I cried and waited for him, eventually drifting off to sleep without him ever coming home. “Scarlett, wake up. I brought you your favorite steamed buns.” Ryan nudged me awake. My eyes, swollen from crying, fixed on him, desperate for an explanation. “Eat first, Scarlett. We’ll talk after you’ve eaten. You’ve been waiting all night, you must be starving.” Ryan was unusually gentle today. He reached out and offered a steamed bun to my mouth – beef. “Ryan, I don’t like beef. I prefer the pork and chive buns from that place.” Four years of chasing him, three years of being together, and he still didn’t know me. “Why are you so picky? I waited in line forever to get these for you, and you’re still complaining?” He picked up the bun and tossed it directly into the trash. “Fine, don’t eat it then.” “Ryan, yesterday… you were just kidding, right?” A glimmer of hope, a desperate wish that it was all just a bad joke. “Scarlett, I was serious yesterday. I’m going to marry Amelia.” “But… we’ve already booked the venue. Why this sudden change?” I grabbed his hand, my voice rising to a frantic pitch. “Scarlett, listen to me. Amelia’s pregnant.” 4 “Is it… your child?” My eyes widened, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. “No, it’s her boyfriend’s. They were supposed to get married, but he just up and left her. If I don’t help her now, she’ll be a laughingstock.” It sounded ridiculous. She was abandoned, so he had to marry her to help her? “Couldn’t you think of any other way?” “Scarlett, it’ll just be a fake marriage. She’ll divorce me after the baby is born. Then we can still get married, it’s just… waiting an extra year, that’s all.” Just one year, he said, so casually. But why should I have to wait an entire year for someone else? “I won’t agree.” “Can you stop being so cold-blooded? We’re only postponing our wedding by a year. If Amelia doesn’t get married, she’ll be shamed.” Ryan was angry and agitated, but couldn’t he hear how absurd he sounded? “Fine. If you don’t agree, then there won’t be any possibility of us getting married, ever. Think it over carefully.” His words were laced with threat, as if he was certain I couldn’t live without him and would inevitably cave. And he was right, in a way. All these years, I’d revolved around him. When we argued, I was always the first to back down. Everyone knew how much I loved him. But now, that very devotion had become his weapon against me. “I still won’t agree.” He ignored my answer and left without another word. “Principal Reynolds, I’m planning to resign. I’ll send my resignation letter to your email shortly.” If his mind was made up, then I wouldn’t cling to him any longer. 5 Principal Reynolds, as usual, asked for my reasons. I told him I wanted to go home and be with my parents. He didn’t press, only reminded me to ensure a smooth handover so the students’ grades wouldn’t be affected. “Don’t worry, Principal. I’ll handle everything.” In a week, tops, I’d be done with the handover and back with my parents. Ryan could marry his Amelia, and no one would stand in his way. Hanging up the phone, I started packing my luggage. It was best to move out of this place as soon as possible. A knock at the door interrupted my packing. When I emerged from the bedroom and opened it, there stood Amelia. “Scarlett, I came to apologize. Can we talk inside?” “No. Say whatever you need to say out here.” If I’d known it was her, I wouldn’t have even opened the door. “Scarlett, Ryan must have told you, I really had no other choice. That’s why he came up with such an idea. Please don’t blame him.” I barely listened to her words, my eyes fixed on the good luck charm around her neck. “Oh, this? Ryan put it on me. He said you specially got it for his safety.” A smug look crossed her face. “He said since I’m pregnant, I really need to stay safe and sound, so he gave it to me. You don’t mind, do you?” I reached up and touched the identical charm around my own neck. How could I not mind? Ryan had fallen seriously ill once, and I was so frantic. I’d knelt for an entire day at the temple to get that charm, wishing only for both of us to be safe. “Whatever. If he wants to give it to you, I can’t stop him.” “Scarlett, do you even know that Ryan doesn’t actually like you?” Her voice held a hint of challenge. She held her phone out, displaying a video. 6 “Ryan, how’s that girlfriend of yours?” “Not great. She’s boring, just cleans and cooks all day, like a housemaid.” “Hahahaha, then why are you even with her? You might as well just hire a maid.” Ryan slung an arm over his friend’s shoulder. “It’s just because my parents like her. She’s dutiful, and she’s crazy about me, and she’s pretty enough. I guess I can make it work.” The video ended with a burst of laughter that stung my ears. So, I was just a ‘make-do’ for Ryan, never truly loved. The sadness overwhelmed the anger, and tears, traitorous tears, started to fall. “Scarlett, if I were you, I would have left ages ago. I couldn’t ‘simp’ for someone like that.” She scoffed, mocking me. “Didn’t you know? He’s always liked me, ever since we were kids. If you know what’s good for you, just get lost.” The elevator door chimed open. Amelia suddenly leaned in close, whispered something quickly, then stumbled backward. “Amelia, are you okay?” Ryan rushed out of the elevator. “Ryan, I just wanted to apologize to Scarlett, but she got so agitated and pushed me. I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” Amelia leaned into Ryan’s arms, her eyes brimming with tears, looking utterly helpless and pitiful. Ryan immediately scooped her up. Before leaving, he shot me a hateful glare. “Scarlett McKay, I never realized you were so vicious.” 7 I watched them leave, without even the energy to defend myself. I ripped the good luck charm from my neck and threw it into the trash. When I truly started packing, I realized I had a surprising amount of stuff. Two or three hours later, I was only halfway done. Just as I planned to sit down and rest, my phone chimed. It was a video from Ryan. The video was taken by Amelia. It showed Ryan sitting beside her hospital bed, meticulously peeling an orange for her. So Ryan could tolerate the smell of oranges. For three years, because he’d said he didn’t like the scent, I’d never eaten an orange at home. But now, he was peeling one for Amelia with his own hands. A wave of injustice surged through me, uncontrollable. Why did he have to treat me this way? “Scarlett, could you make some home-cooked meals and bring them over? Amelia’s pregnant and can’t eat takeout. And come apologize.” Without waiting for my reply, Ryan quickly hung up. The call lasted only a few seconds. Despite the throbbing in my arm, I cooked a few dishes and packed them. This would be my final repayment to Ryan. Back in my freshman year, I’d been cornered in an alley by some thugs. Ryan had bravely intervened, chasing them off. He’d taken a beating for it. That incident sparked an irrepressible affection in me. Because he’d been my hero, I’d always forgiven him. But now, this was the last time. When I arrived at the hospital, Ryan was gently and carefully combing Amelia’s hair. I remembered how I’d begged him to blow-dry my hair, only for him to burn a large patch of my scalp. He’d just irritably called it a hassle. The contrast was truly laughable. “Scarlett, thank you for making food for me. I really can’t stomach takeout.” Ryan took the food containers and carefully spoon-fed Amelia, bite by bite. “Ugh, why does this taste so awful?”

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My husband, Arthur, dared to cheat on me, thinking I was too old to leave him. When the young woman suddenly showed up at my door, I initially thought she was a university friend of my daughter. The next second, I was stunned by the intimate photos she thrust at me. She believed she could force a divorce, unaware that Arthur only dared to stray because he thought I, being older, wouldn’t leave him. Even my closest friends and family only advised me to endure it, never to leave. Their reason? I married at twenty, and it had been exactly two decades. They said Arthur’s betrayal only came now, so he had already been more than fair to me. Furthermore, he was handsome and wealthy, and I controlled the family finances, making him better than other men. This betrayal, they insisted, I should tolerate. 1. And at first, I truly considered enduring it. The young woman, Daisy, was so young, looking barely seventeen or eighteen, while my husband, Arthur Finch, had just celebrated his forty-first birthday. Our daughter was already in college. Daisy came to me, looking utterly aggrieved, begging me to fulfill her wish for love. Her eyes were bright and sparkling, just like mine once were when I threw caution to the wind. Now, my own eyes were etched with fine lines, and I’d seen a gray hair on my pillow just this morning. “Sweetheart, I can get a divorce.” I was, of course, teasing her. But Daisy didn’t understand, blinking with surprise and delight. “Oh, Mrs. Finch, you’re really willing to step aside?” “Sure. And what are your plans then?” She pouted, thinking for a moment. “I’m planning to go to the Maldives for our honeymoon, and then have a son for him. Mrs. Finch, you don’t know, he really wants a son and keeps pestering me to have one for him.” Arthur wants a son? He was the one who, out of concern for my severe postpartum hemorrhage, voluntarily got a vasectomy. Clearly… times had changed. My desire to tease her vanished. I crossed my arms and leaned back. “Daisy, is it? What I just said was a joke. Arthur and I have been married for twenty years. Our families’ businesses are inextricably linked. We can’t get a divorce. Instead of planning your honeymoon, you should focus on how to extract more money from him.” When I got home, Arthur was sitting on the sofa, looking at documents. Time had truly been kind to him. Even at forty, he only gained a deeper maturity in his brow, making him even more captivating. Hearing me return, he didn’t look up. This was our twenty-year understanding: as long as I didn’t speak, it meant there was nothing to discuss. I went into the kitchen and soon brought out three dishes and a soup. Arthur put down his phone and sat at the dining table. “Vivian said she’ll be back for Thanksgiving. She wants you to pick her up.” “Okay.” “Mom’s not feeling well lately; she needs a check-up.” “Alright, you handle it.” “The bathroom at home is a bit slippery. I want to find someone to redecorate.” “Okay, whatever you say.” “Daisy came to see me.” He finally lifted his head from his bowl and looked at me. His gaze was calm, cold, with a hint of bewilderment. “And?” His mistress came to see him, and he asked me, “And?” Even though I was accustomed to being mild-mannered, I was still caught off guard. Frowning, I looked at him: “Arthur, we’re married. You’re cheating.” I don’t know which word struck a nerve, but he slammed his bowl down. “Eleanor, don’t use such harsh words.” “Daisy is just a child. We don’t have that kind of relationship you’re imagining. Don’t talk nonsense.” A child? How could I not know Arthur had become so adept at self-deception? That night’s dinner ended in discord. I expected a standoff for a while. But the next day, after buying groceries, I returned home to find Daisy in the living room. She was wearing the slippers I bought for our daughter, watching Arthur peel an apple for her. “Oh, Arthur, you’re so amazing! The peel didn’t even break!” “Hmph, making a big deal out of nothing. Here, take it, eat slowly.” Looking at the perfectly round, shiny apple, my mouth tasted bitter. I used to love apples, and he learned to peel them for me. I never imagined that skill would now be used for another woman. Daisy sat happily on the sofa, her fair legs swinging back and forth. I noticed Arthur’s eyes darken slightly. That was the symbol of what he wanted. He pulled her, lifting her onto his lap. Just before the two of them could get any closer, I pushed the door open and walked in. Seeing me, Daisy didn’t move from Arthur’s lap; she just tilted her head and looked at me. “Oh, Mrs. Finch, we meet again!” “I’m sorry, I twisted my ankle. Arthur is helping me look at it. You don’t mind, do you, Mrs. Finch?” She twisted a couple of times, and Arthur let out a suppressed groan. My first half of life had been too protected, so much so that now, I suddenly didn’t know how to retaliate. Should I attack her like a common shrew? Or scratch the scoundrel’s face until it bled? Neither seemed like a wise move. After thinking for a moment, I placed the groceries on the dining table. Then I turned to Arthur and said, “Let’s get a divorce.” 2. He forcefully pushed me away. Arthur refused, claiming he hadn’t committed any fundamental errors. He even mobilized relatives and friends to persuade me. My in-laws, whom I had cared for for twenty years, said he hadn’t physically cheated, so I should just tolerate it. They would intervene and make him transfer five percent of the company shares to me. Our mutual friends said that the girl was only after money, so if I left, wouldn’t that just play right into her hands? Arthur’s business was thriving, his net worth constantly increasing. Only a fool would hand over such wealth to someone else now. My best friend was also going through a divorce recently. Her husband had cheated too, the only difference from me being that her husband had no money and was ugly. She sighed, advising me to just let it go. All breathing men cheat, and at least Arthur was rich. You see, it seemed money had become a get-out-of-jail-free card, capable of absolving all marital sins. I said nothing, still preparing the divorce documents. My father heard the news and came over, slapping me across the face the moment he walked in. His face was red with anger: “What successful man doesn’t socialize? What’s wrong with having one or two women? Wasn’t twenty years of him treating you well enough? Do you have to end up in a miserable divorce? You’re forty now. Who would want you after a divorce?” His face was flushed with health; it seemed my stepmother took excellent care of him, and my new younger brother was well-behaved. Naturally, he couldn’t spare a thought for whether I was hurt or not. The last one to come and persuade me was my daughter, who was in college. When she returned, I instinctively reached out to hug her. But she pushed me away. “Why do you have to divorce Dad?” I, who felt confident in front of everyone else, suddenly flinched. “Your father has another woman, and Mom doesn’t want to live with him anymore.” “You mean that Daisy? Dad said she’s just a friend.” My daughter looked at me impatiently, her expression exactly like Arthur’s. “Mom, you’ve lived a pampered life forever. Can you really handle being divorced? If you can’t adjust, I won’t take care of you.” To be honest, before she came back, I always thought that at least this child, whom I had raised by hand, would give me a hug. She would angrily confront her father, question him about why he was hurting Mom, and then stand by me, firmly cutting ties with the cheating man. Unexpectedly, the moment she returned, she unleashed a torrent of anger on me, then stomped upstairs. Bang! The door slammed with earth-shattering force, making my very soul tremble. That night, while showering, Arthur, for the first time in a long while, came into the bathroom. It had been a year since our last intimacy. When he entered, his gaze was cold and clear. But his hands didn’t stop, moving familiarly over me. “Don’t be angry anymore, hmm?” “Tomorrow I’ll send her away. She won’t appear in front of you again.” My body gradually warmed, but my heart grew colder. I closed my eyes, letting tears mix with water droplets and fall. “Arthur.” “You… truly disgust me.” That Daisy, she was the same age as our daughter. Even if he had found someone in their twenties or thirties, I could still attribute it to a man’s lust. But he found a girl the same age as our daughter. That girl was so young, fresh out in the world. How could he lay his hands on her? 3. Arthur fumed, pushing me away violently. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. Before I could even look, he grabbed my chin and pulled me to the mirror. “I disgust you? What about you? Don’t you disgust me?” “Look at that ridiculous haircut, does it have any femininity? Look at your chest, it’s already sagging to your belly! And look at your face, those splotches make me lose my appetite!” “Eleanor, do you even look like a woman anymore?” “We’ll continue like this, and I guarantee you’ll live a life of comfort. But if we divorce, you’ll wish you were dead.” Even after Arthur left, I was still trembling all over. I couldn’t believe that the man I had loved for twenty years could say such things, or perhaps… he had changed long ago, and I was too blind to see it? I clenched my hands tightly, letting blood run into my palms. A sharp pain surged, making my mind even clearer. Arthur, do you think I have no way to deal with you? That you can do whatever you want? Just wait. This divorce, I’m getting it for sure. The next day, downstairs, Arthur had uncharacteristically prepared breakfast. Our daughter was eating, and seeing me, she lowered her head again, unwilling to engage. He, however, played the good guy, softly coaxing our child: “Vivian, we agreed yesterday, you have to forgive Mom.” Only then did our daughter reluctantly say, “Mom.” “The child was tired from the car ride yesterday. Come quickly and eat, I made your favorite sandwich.” He and I met eyes, and there was undisguised triumph in his. I said nothing. A moment later, the doorbell rang, and the maid brought Daisy in. “Mrs. Finch, good morning. I’m here to deliver documents to Mr. Finch.” They openly clasped hands. Our daughter didn’t think anything of it; instead, she invited Daisy to eat. Daisy demurred for a moment, then turned and sat in my seat. As if to spite me, Vivian placed my breakfast in front of her. She also poured her a glass of the orange juice I usually loved. Daisy also put all her effort into trying to win Vivian over. After exchanging school information, they discovered they were university alumni. “Oh, Vivian, you have such a nice personality! I thought you’d dislike me just like Mrs. Finch…” “My mom’s just going through menopause lately, she’s paranoid. She insists you and my dad are having an affair. Just ignore her.” By the end of the meal, the two had actually become good friends. I hadn’t listened to anything since Vivian said I was paranoid, and I walked out of the house. I needed to find someone, an old classmate I hadn’t seen in over ten years. My first love, the renowned lawyer, Ethan Grant. 4. At the coffee shop, I told Ethan about my desire for a divorce. He scoffed. “You’d really give that up?” Still so ill-tempered, even at his age. If only he had been a little more gentle, I never would have broken up with him. Too lazy to argue with this stubborn mule, I pulled a card from my bag. “I’ve checked around. Your market rate is a million. Here’s half a million; I’ll pay the other half after the divorce. This is business, no personal feelings.” Ethan toyed with the card, then tucked it into his bag. “Alright, boss.” On the way back, he offered to drive me. Compared to my own harmonious family life over the years, his had been much harder. I heard his wife passed away a few years ago from illness, and they had no children. He simply poured all his energy into work, and his career flourished, making him a top lawyer in Sterling City. Ethan’s car was a flashy Maserati, roaring as it drove. I kept frowning. “At your age, why do you still like such flamboyant things?” I wondered why his wife had ever fallen for him. Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You used to like this kind of flashy stuff too, remember?” That left me speechless. In my twenties, I certainly did like gaudy things, but what sane person at forty can still play around like that? He truly had a lot of energy. Too lazy to talk more with him, after getting out of the car, I transferred him three hundred dollars. Ethan: “?” Me: “Cab fare.” Ethan: “Alright, boss.” Though his car was flashy, Ethan taught me a lot about preparations for divorce. Following his guidance, I managed to uncover Arthur’s bank account details and hired a private investigator who got photos of the address where he was keeping his mistress. It was a house I had bought before marriage. We lived there during our courtship and for the first few years of our marriage. Later, when Vivian was born, we hired a nanny, and the house was too small, so we moved to the current villa. I hadn’t visited it in years. Arthur actually hid her there? I found the keys, chose a day when they weren’t there, and opened the apartment door. Everything inside was unchanged, except for some added clutter. It was clear that Daisy truly wanted to marry Arthur. Behind the sofa hung their framed photo. By the dining table, there were knitted dolls she had handmade. In the kitchen, a rich soup was still in a thermos. If the photo’s pose didn’t exactly match mine from back then. If the dolls she knitted weren’t my favorite orange plushies. If the soup she brewed wasn’t the exclusive recipe I developed for Arthur’s stomach condition. Then I might have applauded this loving, illicit couple. But the soup recipe, I had only ever given to my mother-in-law. Which meant, besides me, only she knew it. Yet now it appeared in Daisy’s living space. The continuous betrayals made me question if I truly was such a failure, to make everyone around me so readily choose to hurt me? Just as my emotions were churning, the door suddenly opened. Daisy walked in happily. Then turned and flung herself into Arthur’s arms. “It’s wonderful! Arthur, I’m finally going to have a son for you!” Arthur stroked her face indulgently, then looked up, and our eyes met. 5. For the first time, I saw panic on Arthur’s face. He probably never imagined he’d see me here. At that moment, I, on the other hand, calmly took out my phone and started recording. Seeing this, he tried to snatch it away, but I blocked him: “Arthur, think carefully. This room has surveillance cameras. If I retrieve the footage, both your reputations will be ruined.” Arthur let out a ragged breath. He had dominated the business world for years, accustomed to controlling everything. Faced with this loss of control from me, he instinctively felt irritated. “Eleanor, stop making a scene and go home.” “I want a divorce.” “I’m not divorcing you. Give up!” “I want a divorce. We’ll finalize it tomorrow, or you can expect to be all over social media.” “Why are you causing trouble? Haven’t you thought about your father, my parents, and our daughter?” He brought up Vivian, and I finally broke down. I picked up a vase and smashed it to the floor. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Don’t you dare mention them!!!” I rushed over and slapped him hard. “You bastard! You didn’t think about them when you cheated, you didn’t think about them when you had a child with another woman, and now that I’ve caught you red-handed, you want me to think about them? What kind of double standard are you, so good at letting yourself off the hook?” “You’re just an old pervert who can’t keep his pants on. After disgusting me, you want to shut me up? I’m telling you, in your dreams! Either you divorce me tomorrow, or we’ll fight it out in court, and let the chips fall where they may. Your call!” I went straight to Ethan Grant’s law firm. He happened to be free, so he found me an office and poured me a glass of water. “What’s wrong? You’re so upset.” “Don’t even ask. I ran into the mistress. She’s pregnant.” “What are you thinking now?” At this, my anger flared. “What do you think I can think? Is thinking even useful now?” Ethan paused, pushing the water glass closer to me. This small gesture immediately extinguished my anger: “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He shrugged: “No problem, the client is always right.” Ethan said that the current situation was very favorable for me. I had photos of the apartment, and the fact that Arthur had a child with someone else was an undeniable de facto marriage. This situation would be even more advantageous for subsequent asset division. My mind felt numb; I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling. When I left the law firm, he offered to drive me, but I refused. I wanted to walk alone.

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I was born with “pain transference.” My specialty is weaponized empathy. Whatever pain someone fakes in my presence, they feel for real. When a two-faced girl pretended I pushed her and cried about how much it hurt, the next second, she was screaming as if every bone in her body had shattered. When a con artist threw herself in front of my car, wailing that her back was broken, her vertebrae instantly dislocated, paralyzing her on the asphalt. Over time, people learned to treat me with a healthy dose of fear. No one dared to fake an illness or play the victim in my vicinity. Until, for the sake of a family merger, I was engaged to a brilliant, aloof maestro of surgery. At our engagement party, his “little sister” from med school clutched her stomach, her face slick with cold sweat as she cried. In front of the city’s medical elite, she clung to my fiancé’s sleeve and whimpered: “Julian, my stomach cancer… it’s flaring up. It hurts so much, please, save me.” The elegant ballroom fell silent. My fiancé removed his gloves. “Seraphina, Monica is in critical condition. The engagement party will have to wait.” “A doctor’s duty comes first. I can’t just stand by while a patient suffers.” The champagne flute in my hand paused mid-air. “I just did a full-body scan on you. Turns out, you’re telling the truth. In that case, you can just drop dead.” “Your cancer cells have just metastasized. The pain has been magnified tenfold. You’re going to die in agony.” 1 For the sake of a dynastic union, I was engaged to Dr. Julian Barclay, a brilliant and aloof surgical prodigy. He was the youngest chief surgeon in the medical community, his future limitless. Our two families were titans, and the engagement party was a lavish affair. Everyone who was anyone in the city was there. I stood in the center of the grand hall, wearing a couture gown, my arm linked with Julian’s. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven. Just as we were about to exchange engagement rings, the doors were thrown open. A frail girl in a white dress stumbled in. It was Monica, Julian’s junior from medical school. Her face was as white as her dress. Clutching her stomach, she rushed towards us. In front of hundreds of guests, she grabbed Julian’s sleeve, tears instantly streaming down her face, her skin glistening with a cold sweat. “Julian, my stomach cancer… it’s flaring up. It hurts so much, please, save me.” The entire hall fell silent. Every eye was fixed on the three of us. I looked at Monica’s pathetic, damsel-in-distress act and sneered inwardly. Stomach cancer? Just yesterday, I saw her post a picture on Instagram of herself devouring a spicy hot pot. Today, she was having a terminal cancer flare-up? Julian’s cool, indifferent expression shattered. He didn’t hesitate to pull his arm from mine, turning to support Monica. “Monica, what happened? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Monica sagged into his arms, breathing weakly. “Julian, I know today is a big day for you. I didn’t want to bother you. But it hurts so much, I feel like I’m going to die. I just wanted to see you one last time.” Her speech was so heartfelt, so moving, that a few of the guests actually started dabbing their eyes. Julian’s own eyes reddened. He pulled the engagement ring, the one meant for me, from his finger and tossed it unceremoniously onto a nearby table. “Seraphina, Monica is in critical condition. The engagement party will have to wait. A doctor’s duty comes first. I can’t just stand by while a patient suffers.” He didn’t even offer me an apology before sweeping Monica into his arms, ready to leave. I paused, my champagne flute held steady. I watched Monica, nestled in his embrace, shoot me a triumphant, provocative smirk. Fine. You want to play games? I swirled the champagne in my glass and spoke, my voice calm and deliberate. “I just did a full-body scan on you. Turns out, you’re telling the truth. In that case, you can just drop dead. Your cancer cells have just metastasized. The pain has been magnified tenfold. You’re going to die in agony.” Julian stopped in his tracks and glared at me. “Seraphina, what the hell are you talking about? Monica is already so sick, and you’re cursing her? How can you be so vicious?” The moment he finished speaking, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from Monica’s throat. “AAAAAHHH!” The sound was so piercing it seemed to shatter the crystal chandeliers. Monica thrashed out of Julian’s arms, crashing to the floor. She curled into a ball, clutching her stomach like a boiled shrimp, her white dress instantly soaked with sweat. She writhed on the ground, her head banging against the marble. “It hurts! It hurts so much! Somebody help me! My stomach is exploding! My insides are on fire!” She screamed, clawing at her own belly, her nails digging bloody furrows into her skin. Julian was horrified. He dropped to his knees, trying to restrain her. “Monica! What’s wrong?” Lost to the pain, Monica bit down hard on his wrist. Julian grunted in pain but refused to let her go. He looked up at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Seraphina! What did you do to her?” I stood my ground, looking down on them. “What could I do? Didn’t she say she has terminal stomach cancer? This is what a flare-up looks like. Surely a great doctor like you would know that.” The guests began to whisper. “That girl’s screams… they don’t sound fake.” “Could she really have terminal cancer?” “How tragic.” Julian no longer had time to argue with me. Monica’s eyes were rolling back in her head, foam flecked her lips, and her breathing grew ragged. “Monica, hang on! I’m taking you to the hospital right now!” Ignoring the bite on his wrist, he scooped her up and ran for the door. At the threshold, he turned back, his gaze pinning me. “Seraphina, if anything happens to Monica, I will make you pay.” I just smiled coldly and drained my champagne. “Let’s be clear, Julian. You’re the one who publicly abandoned me for another woman. As of now, our engagement is void. You’re not breaking it off. I am.” Julian froze for a second, then snarled, “Fine! I wouldn’t want a cold-blooded woman like you anyway!” And with that, he was gone. Dead silence filled the ballroom. Everyone stared at me. I set down my glass, walked onto the stage, and took the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, my apologies, but the engagement party is canceled. Please, eat, drink, and enjoy the rest of the evening. It’s all on my tab.” Then, I gathered the skirt of my gown and walked out, leaving a sea of stunned faces behind me. I knew with absolute certainty: Monica was a dead woman. My power of pain transference had never once failed. If she dared to fake terminal cancer, I would make her experience it for real. Magnified by ten. 2 Julian rushed Monica to his own hospital, City Central, straight into the emergency room. Her screams echoed through the entire ER. He pulled some strings and ordered an emergency full-body CT scan. He stood in the control room, his eyes glued to the monitor. When the images appeared, the attending physician gasped. “Dr. Barclay… this… this is impossible!” Julian shoved the doctor aside. On the screen was a massive, irregularly bordered tumor in her stomach. But that wasn’t all. Her liver, lungs, even her bones were riddled with metastatic lesions. It was real. Stage-four stomach cancer, spread throughout her entire body. Incurable. Julian’s legs gave out, and he nearly collapsed. “How can this be? She had a full physical just last month at this very hospital. All her markers were normal!” The physician sighed. “The images don’t lie. With this level of metastasis, she has three months to live, at most.” From the ER, Monica’s screams continued unabated. They gave her painkiller after painkiller, but even the highest dose of morphine couldn’t touch the pain. She had ripped the bedsheets to shreds. Julian burst into her room, grabbing her hand. “Monica, don’t be afraid. I’m the best surgeon there is. I will save you!” Ignoring the other doctor’s advice, he scheduled an emergency surgery. He was going to open her up and cut the tumor out himself. The operating light flickered on. Julian scrubbed in, scalpel in hand. The moment he made the first incision, he despaired. Her abdominal cavity was filled with cancerous fluid and nodules. Her stomach was a necrotic, pulpy mess. There was nothing to cut, nowhere to start. His celebrated surgical skill was a joke. Julian’s hands began to tremble, and the scalpel clattered to the floor. He leaned against the operating table, buried his face in his hands, and broke down sobbing. Meanwhile, I had returned to the Vance family estate. The moment I walked in, a teacup flew past my head, shattering at my feet. My father was on the sofa, his face crimson with rage. “You insolent girl! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Calling off the engagement in front of all those people! What about the Barclay family’s dignity? What about our family’s dignity?” I looked at him coldly. “Julian abandoned me for another woman. Did you want me to get on my knees and beg him to stay?” My father slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet. “She was a patient! Julian is a doctor! Saving lives is his duty! Not only did you show no understanding, you said those vicious things! You will go to the hospital right now, apologize to Julian, and apologize to that girl!” I stood my ground. “No.” He pointed a trembling finger at me. “If you don’t go, you are no longer my daughter!” When I still didn’t move, he clutched his chest, his body swaying. “You… you’re trying to kill me! Oh, my heart… I think I’m having a heart attack!” He collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air. My mother rushed to his side, then turned to me. “Seraphina! Are you trying to give your father a heart attack?” I looked at my father’s clumsy performance and sneered. He got a full physical twice a year; his heart was as strong as an ox. And now he was pulling this stunt to make me back down. I walked over to the sofa. “A heart attack, is it? It’s very painful. Are you sure you want one?” My father faltered for a second, then cried out even louder. “You ungrateful child! You really are giving me a heart attack!” I nodded. “Alright. As you wish.” Instantly, the color drained from my father’s face. His eyes flew open, his hands clawing at his chest. His lips, once ruddy, turned a sickening shade of blue. He gasped, but no sound came out, only a rattling in his throat. He tumbled off the sofa, his body convulsing on the floor. My mother was stunned. “Honey? Honey, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me!” My father’s eyes had rolled back. He was unconscious. I calmly took out my phone and dialed 911. “Yes, Vance Estate. We have a case of acute myocardial infarction. Bring a defibrillator. Hurry.” Fifteen minutes later, the ambulance arrived. The paramedics performed CPR on the spot. “No heartbeat! Charging! Clear!” Thump! My father’s body arched off the floor. It took three shocks to get a faint, thready pulse. The paramedics, sweating, loaded him onto a gurney. “Family needs to come now! We could lose him any second!” My mother followed, crying. As she left, she shot me a look of pure terror. She had suddenly remembered my terrifying “gift,” my “crow’s beak” that had followed me since childhood. The house fell silent. The maids hid in corners, not daring to breathe. I sat on the sofa and poured myself a cup of tea. Faking an illness? In my presence, no one gets away with it.

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During our annual leave, my husband and I went abroad for our honeymoon. Coincidentally, a new virus broke out—infection meant death within three months. Desperate, and due to my specialized profession, I received the only two return tickets available. I touched my belly, where my child was less than three months old, and excitedly told my husband, “Liam, we don’t have to die.” But on the day we were supposed to leave, Liam said, “I gave the tickets to Sienna. She’s seven months pregnant.” Sienna was the one he’d loved and lost in his youth, his “white moonlight.” For the sake of the baby in my belly, I knelt and begged him to get the tickets back. He hesitated for a second, then coldly refused me. “Sienna and her baby need those tickets more. Your baby is only a month along; it doesn’t count as a life yet!” In the end, I watched helplessly as he took Sienna and boarded the plane, while I, and the child in my womb, died in a foreign land. When I reopened my eyes, I found myself holding two tickets! 1. Half an hour ago, I had called the embassy and, due to my specialized background, had secured these two sole tickets. Memories of my past life flashed before my eyes like a film. They stopped at the scene of me, connected to a ventilator, dying in despair on a cold hospital bed. My body turned to ashes, scattered with thousands of other deceased souls on foreign soil. When I returned to the hotel, it was twenty minutes earlier than in my previous life. I overheard Liam on the phone in the bathroom. “Sienna, don’t be afraid. I’ll find a way to get tickets.” “For the sake of our unborn baby, you must be strong. You’re a strong mother. Trust me, I won’t let you or the baby die.” Liam’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. From the other end of the line came intermittent sobs. “Oh, Liam, thank you for still being so good to me. If I hadn’t been born into such a parasitic family, I never would have left you.” Then Sienna’s voice turned a bit sour. “By the way, Liam, are you in Florence for your honeymoon this time?” Liam hummed, then eagerly added, “But also to see you. I heard you got divorced, and I was worried about you being alone.” I gripped the tickets, sitting on the sofa, and scoffed. So, among all those countries, Liam’s insistence on coming to Florence was for Sienna. It was laughable that before we left, he’d given the reason that Florence was a romantic city and he wanted to give me a romantic trip. Only now, reliving it, did I realize it was all a lie. The doorknob to the bathroom turned, and Liam saw me. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, but he quickly composed himself. He smiled and sat beside me, wrapping his arms around me intimately, as he always did, burrowing into my embrace. “Honey, when did you get back?” Our bodies were pressed tightly together, but I no longer felt the warmth I once did. Instead, a chill seeped into my bones. I pushed him away, calmly saying, “I just got back and sat down when you came out.” He didn’t think much of it, nor did he notice my changed demeanor. Instead, he let out a sigh of relief, then his voice dropped. “Honey, if we can’t leave this time, I’ll die with you.” I said nothing, but scoffed inwardly. With Sienna, he was careful to comfort her and promise she wouldn’t die. With me, he said he could die with me, yet in the previous life, he took the ticket and boarded the plane with Sienna. I still remember how he resolutely flung my hand away, feigning agony as he said, “Eleanor, I’m an only child, and I come from a single-parent home. If I die, my mother won’t survive. But don’t worry, I’ll treat your parents as my own.” 2. But he seemed to forget, my parents only had me, and I was their late-in-life child. My name is Eleanor Vance. My parents said they hoped I would be as precious as pure gold, that my name embodied all their love. Who isn’t a treasure in their parents’ hands? Even now, I can’t bear to imagine how my parents, nearing seventy, would spend their old age if I were gone. After dinner with Liam, he excused himself to go downstairs for a cigarette to clear his head. I stood silently by the window, watching him hail a taxi and drive away. In the empty hotel room, the news reported the daily updated death toll: “Today, twenty-one deaths from infection…” The presenter’s voice was cold as she recited the numbers, but I knew deeply how painfully those lives behind the statistics awaited death. On the first day of infection, the entire body would itch. On the second, rashes would break out everywhere. Those rashes would be painful and itchy, oozing pus. On the third day, internal organs would feel like they were being gnawed away. This agonizing pain would not subside until the very moment of death! Thinking of this, I touched my belly and said softly, “Good baby, next life, choose a good father and mother. I can’t… keep you. Mommy doesn’t want you to be born into an incomplete family!” After all, Mommy also came from a complete and loving family. Mommy hopes you can have that double portion of love too! Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep. I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I saw it was my father calling. As soon as I answered, my father’s choked voice came through the line. “Hello, Eleanor, I saw the news that a virus broke out in Florence, and all flights are grounded. My dear daughter, don’t be afraid. Dad will buy a ticket and come to be with you.” Then, from the other end of the line, came my mother’s suppressed sobbing. “Old man, I’m going too. Buy my ticket as well. You think you’re the only one who misses our daughter? Don’t I?” “Your health isn’t good. Just wait for good news at home, I’ll bring our daughter back safely.” “No, if she comes back, we come back together. If not, it’s better to die together.” Hearing my usually gentle parents argue over me, my eyes silently welled up with tears on my end of the phone. To keep them from worrying, I suppressed my choked voice and quickly said, “Mom and Dad, don’t worry. I called the embassy, and the country gave me return tickets. I’ll be back tomorrow.” My mother, hearing this, quickly snatched the phone. “Really? That’s wonderful! Your father and I will go to the airport to pick you up tomorrow.” I wiped away my tears and smiled. “No, I have a mission when I return home this time. Just rest assured at home and wait for me to come back.” After hanging up, I realized Liam had returned at some point. He looked at me with delight. “Eleanor, you got the tickets, didn’t you?” I had told him when I called the embassy. Now that I think about it, his confident words to comfort Sienna were probably based on the assumption that I would get the tickets. Since he knew, I no longer concealed it, but when I spoke, I deliberately said, “I got the tickets, but there’s only one.” Hearing this, the hopeful light in his eyes instantly dimmed. After a few seconds of silence, he frowned, anxious. “One? How could they only give one? Didn’t you tell them you have family?” “Talk to them again, ask them to make an exception. Someone like you, an unsung hero, couldn’t possibly only get one ticket, could they?” He was right, of course. Life-saving tickets were meant for partners and family. So when I explained the situation to the embassy, they gave me two return tickets without hesitation. But now, faced with Liam’s questioning, I still insisted, “At times like this, tickets are even more scarce. Most of those who can board planes now are the pillars of the country, serving our nation.” He remained noncommittal to my words. Seeing his silence, I deliberately asked, “Honey, don’t you want me to return home? You must know how many lives my identity could save if I returned.” He snapped back to reality, forcing a smile. “I… of course I want you to go back.” Late at night, I pretended to be asleep. Sure enough, he quietly searched for the tickets. I hadn’t deliberately hidden the tickets; they were just in a box on the nightstand. But I had hidden my own ticket. Liam, knowing beforehand that I had only secured one ticket, didn’t suspect anything. With the ticket in hand, he immediately went to the bathroom and made a call. “Sienna, I got the ticket from Eleanor. You can go through the special channel and board the plane tomorrow.” “Really? Oh, Liam, that’s wonderful! Now my baby and I won’t die!” Liam heard the laughter from the other end of the line and joined in her joy. After a moment of excitement, Sienna suddenly remembered something and quickly asked, “Liam, are you coming with me? I want… I want you to be my baby’s father.” If it were the previous life, Liam would have jumped for joy, because this was the lifelong regret he couldn’t overcome. But at this moment, knowing there was only one ticket, he said bitterly, “Sienna, don’t worry about me. If I survive, I’ll definitely come back to marry you.” “Eleanor, such a talented person, wouldn’t only get one ticket, would she? You can talk to her, tell her to give you her ticket first. After you and I leave together, the country, valuing her abilities, should give her another one.” I secretly listened to their conversation. So that was her plan. She still wanted to fly off with him, leaving me to die in a foreign land, just like in the previous life! At this moment, Liam, having heard her words, could only say helplessly, “Eleanor only managed to get one ticket, but don’t worry, I might not die. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to live until a cure is found.” Sienna suddenly started crying after hearing this. Liam comforted her tenderly for a while before coming back to sleep. After turning off the light, Liam held me and whispered behind me, “I’m sorry, Eleanor. I… I’ll be with you, even in death. Let it be my atonement to you!” A chill spread through me. My heart ached as if pricked by needles. Liam and I, though we met through an arranged marriage, After marriage, he was caring, gentle, and romantic, fulfilling all my expectations for a husband. I gradually fell in love with him. When I heard all flights were grounded, I had even thought of dying with him, but his love and his true heart had never been given to me! Since that was the case, in this life, let him bear the pain of separation by death himself! The next day, when I woke up, Liam was nowhere to be seen.

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While tidying up, I found the newly bought pack of sanitary pads had been opened. Without a moment’s hesitation, I had my lawyer draft the divorce papers and send them to Alexander Prescott. His call came almost immediately. “Another tantrum? What’s it this time?” I bit my lip, my voice cold. “A pad is missing from the pack in my drawer.” “Fine. Have it your way,” Alexander’s voice was a cocktail of anger and impatience. “Just don’t come crawling back when you regret it!” The line went dead. Regret? Never. My only regret was being blind for so long, and allowing the woman who once took the business world by storm to suffer years of humiliation. … I was packing my suitcase when Isabelle ran in, tears streaming down her face. She was Alexander’s current assistant, and his first love, the one that got away. “Sera, I’m so sorry. I came by to drop off some files for Alex the other day, and I got my period unexpectedly. I just borrowed one of your pads,” she sobbed. “I never thought it would cause such a misunderstanding. Please, don’t divorce him. If you do, I’ll never be able to clear my name.” Listening to her half-hearted apology, a cold smile touched my lips. “If I don’t divorce him, how am I supposed to make room for you?” Isabelle’s voice hitched. “Sera, how can you say that? I never wanted to interfere in your marriage, I…” “You didn’t want to,” I cut her off, “or you couldn’t?” Years ago, when the Prescott family was searching for a bride for Alexander among the city’s elite debutantes, Isabelle, as the illegitimate daughter of the Miller family, was the first to be dismissed. Now, seven years later, the Miller family was bankrupt. Her return was only possible under the guise of being his assistant, a way to get close to him again. Isabelle cried even more pitifully. “If you won’t believe me, then I’ll just resign, alright?” “Suit yourself.” I threw Alexander’s earlier words back at her and went back to my packing, ignoring her completely. In the two years since Isabelle joined the company, I’d threatened divorce as many times as she’d threatened to quit. Now that the divorce was real, she was still playing the same old card: feigning retreat to gain sympathy. Alexander had long grown tired of my “jealous antics,” yet he remained utterly defenseless against her damsel-in-distress act. “Sera, please don’t go. Please don’t divorce Alex,” she cried, her voice tragic and innocent. She grabbed my arm, shaking it dramatically like some heroine in a soap opera. “Hit me, if it will make you feel better. Just please, stop being angry.” With that, she pulled my hand towards her own face. I watched her clumsy performance, my brow furrowed as I began a silent countdown. Ten, nine, eight… Before I even reached seven, Alexander’s frantic figure burst into the room. “Stop it!” he roared at me. “Seraphina, you’ve gone too far!” “Isabelle was our classmate, for God’s sake! How could you hit her?” Just like every other time, Alexander arrived right on cue, convicting me without a trial. I shook my head and gave a bitter laugh. His hero-saving-the-damsel routine was certainly getting more polished. I set down my luggage and rose slowly. First, I turned to Alexander. “If your eyes are failing you, Alex, make an appointment with an optometrist.” “Hit her? I wouldn’t want to dirty my hands.” “You…” His own words caught in his throat. I then turned to Isabelle. “If I remember correctly, I didn’t hear a knock, nor did I get up to open the door.” I stared directly into her eyes. “So, please tell me, how did you get in?” Her face went pale, and she stumbled, nearly falling. A strong arm caught her by the waist. Alexander steadied her, his voice laced with concern, before turning back to me with a glare. “Isabelle is my assistant. I gave her the password to the door for work. What, are you going to nitpick about every little thing now?” His eyes were filled with contempt. “Your jealousy is suffocating, Seraphina.” The word hit me like a lightning strike. I stood frozen. He thought I was suffocating? Wasn’t the suffocating part the way Isabelle had infiltrated our marriage over the past two years, with his silent approval and indulgence? It was invasive, and it knew no bounds. It started with dropping off files, then moved to casually staying for dinner, then overnight. Using my personal clothes without asking, taking my sanitary pads. The list of “little things” was endless. Our marriage for two had become a movie for three. And I was the extra. I blinked back the tears and looked up at Alexander. “Since this marriage is causing both of us so much pain, let’s just sign the papers and end it.” He frowned, pushing the divorce agreement aside. “Alright, stop making a scene.” “Apologize to Isabelle, and we’ll let this go. We can all still be good friends.” Hearing the word “friends” from his mouth again dredged up a flood of painful memories. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I, Seraphina Vaughn, would rather die alone than be friends with someone who bullied me!” An apology? Not in this lifetime. Back in school, I had hidden my family’s wealth to try and fit in. That decision made me a target for Isabelle. On the first day, she threw my books and backpack into a filthy pond behind the school. My uniform pants were slashed with a knife. Later, under pressure from my family, the school forced Isabelle to make a public apology and was about to expel her. It was Alexander who convinced me. “Come on, Sera. Let it go. She knows she was wrong, just forgive her.” Blinded by my love for him, I endured the humiliation, shook her hand, and even asked the school to let her stay. Looking back, his bias towards her started back then. I was just too in love to see it. Isabelle’s face grew even paler, tears falling like broken pearls. “I was wrong. I overstepped. I shouldn’t have presumed on our past friendship to try and be your friend.” Her voice was a pathetic whisper. “I forgot that I’m just a lowly employee at your company now. I’m worthless. I’ll leave.” Alexander’s eyes instantly reddened. He pulled Isabelle behind him, shielding her as he yelled at me. “I gave you the title of Mrs. Prescott so you could have dignity, not so you could bully people!” He turned back to Isabelle, patting her trembling shoulder. “Don’t say that about yourself, Isabelle. In my heart, you’ve never been just an employee.” He gazed at the fragile woman before him, his eyes burning with passion. “You have always been the most special person to me.” Watching my legal husband declare his undying love for another woman, I didn’t fly into a rage as I usually would. I just felt a deep, chilling cold. With her degree from some no-name university abroad, Isabelle was nowhere near qualified to be the assistant to the CEO of Prescott Corp. It was Alexander who had overruled everyone to keep her. He gave her an unheard-of salary and a unique brand of favoritism, one that pushed his own wife to the sidelines. She called him “Mr. Prescott” but called me by my first name. She claimed it was a sign of closeness, but it was clear she thought I wasn’t worthy of the Mrs. Prescott title. I could handle her thinking that, but I never imagined Alexander felt the same way. The absurdity of it all was laughable. Me, the sole heiress of Vaughn Industries, needing the “Mrs. Prescott” title to throw my weight around? The regret for the proud woman I had lost to love was sharp and painful. In that moment, the last flicker of hope for my marriage was extinguished. “Alexander, sign the divorce papers soon,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Don’t force me to take this to court.” With that, I picked up my suitcase and walked out without a backward glance. When I walked through the door of my family home, my parents were excitedly watching a travel show about the Northern Lights. They quickly turned off the TV when they saw me. Traveling the world had always been their dream, but their only daughter was a fool for love, so obsessed with a man that she refused to come home and take over the family business. I walked over, took the remote out of the drawer, and turned the TV back on. Then I pulled out my phone and booked two tickets to Finland. But they didn’t smile with the surprise I expected. They just looked at me with worry in their eyes. I knew I couldn’t hide it. “We’re… getting a divorce,” I said, the words falling into the sudden silence of the vast living room. After a long moment, my parents came over and gently took my hands. “Whatever you decide, we support you. We just want you to be happy.” “Your mother and I are always your safety net.” My eyes welled up, and the years of pent-up sorrow came pouring out with my tears. They had been against my marriage to Alexander from the start, but they had relented because of my desperate pleas. I squeezed my father’s hand and then took my mother’s, our three hands clasped together. I forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” They weren’t convinced. They insisted I change my flight from the next day to a week later, so they could spend more time with me. At their suggestion, I booked a family portrait session, an annual tradition that had always been the highlight of our year. After marrying Alexander, I had invited him many times, but he always declined, citing work. The next morning, we arrived at the photo studio early, only to see a familiar figure: Alexander. Isabelle was with him. She was leaning on his shoulder, her eyes sparkling. “Alex, thank you for canceling that important meeting to come take pictures with me.” Alexander smiled and gently tapped her nose. “You silly girl. You’re the most important person to me. Who else would I spoil?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. So, it was never about being busy. It was about me not being worthy of his time. “Sera, what are you looking at?” my mother asked. “Nothing, I thought I saw someone I knew,” I said, turning to block her view and guiding her away. Inside the studio, I held my father’s hand on one side and linked arms with my mother on the other, smiling like a carefree child. Click! The photographer captured the warm, happy moment. In that instant, I felt reborn. I had found what was most important in my life again. “Oh,” my mother had just stepped out to use the restroom when my father suddenly clutched his stomach, his face contorted in pain. “What’s wrong? Is it your stomach again?” I helped him to a nearby lounge and simultaneously called our family doctor and 911. While we waited for the ambulance, Isabelle appeared. “So this is why you were so willing to divorce Alex,” she sneered. “You found yourself a new sugar daddy.” Her greedy eyes scanned my father from head to toe. “This old geezer might have some class, but he’s ancient. He’s nothing compared to Alex.” She clicked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk. I’m impressed you can even bring yourself to touch him for money.” My father understood immediately who she was, the woman who had destroyed my marriage. He struggled to get up, to defend my honor, but a sharp pain sent him collapsing back onto the sofa. Seeing my father’s agony, I snapped. I marched over to her and slapped her hard across the face. CRACK! “Watch your filthy mouth,” I snarled. “That’s my father!”

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