Category: English

The pop-up bloomed on my husband’s laptop screen like a toxic flower. I’d been using his desktop in the home office to stream a show, a moment of quiet indulgence, when the AI assistant he was developing for the company made its presence known. [Hey there, boss man 😉 Time to log off. We need you rested for our main event tonight… 🔥] The font was a bubbly, almost childish script, framed by an explosion of digital pink hearts. I stared, the sound from my show fading into a dull roar in my ears. A single screenshot was all it took. I found him across town, charming a client over lunch at a rooftop restaurant. I didn’t wait for their small talk to conclude. I simply walked up to the table, phone in hand, and slid it in front of him. The screenshot glowed. “Care to explain?” Julian’s smile faltered for only a fraction of a second. Then, it returned, wider and more indulgent than before. He reached out and pinched my cheek, a gesture meant to be endearing that felt deeply condescending. “Sweetheart, relax. It’s just the in-house beta for a new AI companion. I’m running the final tests myself.” I held his gaze, my expression unreadable. “I see.” I nodded calmly, retrieved my phone, and turned to leave. Before I was even out of the restaurant, I was on a call to a trusted contact in our IT department. The IP address behind that “virtual girlfriend” was in my hands less than an hour later. I posted it in the company-wide executive channel, a digital space normally reserved for quarterly reports and market analysis. [Whoever this belongs to has one hour to come forward. Consider this your only chance at a graceful exit.] If you’re going to play me for a fool with my own money, you’d better be prepared for a very public, very ugly ruin. Chapter 1 The executive channel, usually buzzing with activity, fell into a dead, watchful silence. Five minutes later, the door to my office burst open. Julian. His forehead was beaded with sweat, his breathing ragged. He looked genuinely panicked. “Eleanor, please. It’s just a program. A test. You have to believe me.” He hadn’t come alone. A few of the company’s senior staff, the old guard loyal to him, trailed in his wake, ready to close ranks. “He’s right, Mrs. Croft,” our Head of Development said earnestly. “It’s a closed-loop internal beta. There’s no live operator on the other end.” “The dialogue is all pre-scripted,” another added, her tone placating. “Just placeholder content to test user engagement metrics.” Our Director of Technology, a man I’d known for years, even produced meeting minutes, pointing to a specific line item. “See, Eleanor? ‘AI Companion Dialogue Templates.’ We all brainstormed them. The goal was to increase user affinity and… stickiness.” He winced at the corporate jargon, knowing how I hated it. “Julian was just doing his due diligence for the team’s project. It would kill us to think you’d misunderstand his commitment.” Their words were a carefully constructed wall of defense, brick after brick laid to protect him. Julian took my hand, his eyes wide with the sincerity that had once been my undoing. “Honey, I am so sorry this upset you. I hate that it made you unhappy for even a second. If you don’t like it, I’ll pull the plug on the test right now. I’ll never touch it again.” He knew just how to wield that earnestness. It was the same look he’d given me when he was a brilliant, broke nobody with a world-changing idea. I hadn’t invested in the idea; I’d invested in him, in that unwavering belief in his eyes. I remembered the nights he’d slept at the office for two weeks straight, trying to make his first venture profitable. I never once questioned his dedication, just kept our home a sanctuary for him to return to. When he needed capital, I went to my father and not only secured the seed money but negotiated a deal where Julian would retain all profits for the first five years. That first business failed. I didn’t blame him. I told him he’d earned a priceless education in entrepreneurship and used my influence to bring him into my father’s company, Vance Sterling. The day he was promoted to President, at a party thrown in his honor, he proposed to me for the second time. He swore his love would remain as pure and fierce as it was in the beginning, that I would always be the only one. Every year on our anniversary, he would propose again, a ritual to prove, he said, that his heart had never strayed. By all accounts, his loyalty should have been forged in steel. I pressed my fingers to my temples, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. “I understand,” I said, waving them away. “I won’t pursue it any further.” A collective sigh of relief filled the room as they filed out. Julian’s shoulders slumped as he let out his own breath. He moved to embrace me, but I held up a hand, stopping him. I had already seen the full chat logs. The AI assistant messaged him every half hour. While most were benign reminders about his schedule or the weather, the language was cloyingly intimate, sometimes bordering on suggestive. And then there were the stickers—a custom set of reaction GIFs, all featuring the same woman, her face always artfully obscured. The curve of her neck, the line of her jaw, a hand brushing back a strand of hair. It was unmistakably the same person. Doubt, once planted, is a weed that grows in the dark. I had to know. Feigning a headache, I excused myself to the restroom. From the cool, quiet of the marble stall, I forwarded the IP address to a different contact—someone whose loyalty was to my family, not to my husband. The response came back in minutes. The user was located inside the Vance Sterling building. Cross-referencing the IP with HR network assignments took another ten minutes. And then I had a name. Chloe. A new intern in the Operations department. A sharp, acidic pang shot through my chest. No live operator, they had said. A chorus of liars, all of them. And now I had her name, her file, her face. The elevator ride down to the fourteenth floor felt like a slow, cold descent. I saw her immediately. In a sea of employees focused on their screens, she was the only one with a reality show playing in full-screen mode on her monitor. Her desk was an island of luxury: a row of expensive hand creams, imported snacks, and a personal humidifier humming softly, puffing a cloud of scented mist just for her. I walked into the open-plan office. Her eyes flickered towards me, a flash of recognition or perhaps alarm. In a single, swift motion, she slapped a small, framed photo on her desk face down. Chapter 2 As I approached her desk, she paused her show with a lazy click of the mouse. My hands tightened into fists at my sides. Had Julian given her this… this bubble of privilege? “Excuse me,” I began, my voice even and cool. “Is your workload so light that you have time for television?” Chloe glanced up at me, an unimpressed look on her young face. “I take a break when I’m tired. What’s it to you? Are you from facilities? Paper recycling is down the hall.” The employee at the next desk looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, but she managed a choked whisper. “Chloe… that’s Mrs. Croft. The founder’s daughter. The President’s wife.” Chloe’s eyes widened in feigned innocence. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I just… I always pictured the President’s wife as being so glamorous. The thought never even crossed my mind. My mistake.” Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. Before I could speak, Chloe’s gaze darted to a point somewhere behind me, and her eyes instantly welled with tears. Her voice became a fragile whisper. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Croft… I’ll get back to work right away…” “What’s going on here?” Julian’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the office quiet from behind me. Instantly, the previously silent employees swarmed, their voices a chorus of concerned chatter. “Mrs. Croft was criticizing Chloe’s work ethic. The poor girl got so upset.” “Chloe finished all her tasks for the day. Her team lead said she could take a break. Mrs. Croft is being a little harsh.” I was stunned. Just moments ago, these people were silent, terrified of being caught in the crossfire. The second Julian appeared, they found their courage—all of it aimed squarely at me, in defense of her. “Enough,” Julian snapped. He pointed a stern finger at Chloe. “You. My office. Tomorrow morning. You’ll be reporting your work progress directly to me from now on.” Chloe lowered her head in submission, but I saw it—the ghost of a triumphant smirk on her lips. My heart twisted. Was it a punishment, or an invitation for a private rendezvous? I composed myself, raising my voice to address the entire department. “Actually, I’m not here to monitor productivity. I’m here to announce a corporate-wide hardware upgrade, starting with this department. Every computer is being replaced, effective immediately.” A wave of surprised excitement rippled through the staff. Only Chloe pouted. “That’s so sudden. I’m used to my computer. Can I opt out?” “No,” Julian said, his tone final. He then turned to me, a placating smile on his face. “My wife speaks for me on this. You will all follow her lead.” Chloe stared at him, her face flushing with disbelief and anger. I didn’t spare her another glance. I told Julian I was heading home and left without waiting for him. He came home early that evening, looking for all the world like a remorseful husband. In one hand, he held a cake from my favorite bakery; in the other, the designer handbag I’d admired a few weeks ago. His face was a mask of guilt. “Eleanor, I’m sorry. The AI beta test has been reassigned. I promise I will never again engage with anything that makes you doubt me.” I accepted the gifts, my voice flat. “It was for work. I understand.” He sighed, pulling me into an embrace I did not return. His voice was thick with manufactured pain. “I know I’ve been neglecting you. I’m sorry. My phone password is your birthday. You can check it anytime you want. I have nothing to hide.” I nodded against his chest, saying nothing. Later, while he was in the shower, I opened his phone. It was pristine. Spotless. No suspicious apps, no hidden folders. And then, a notification lit up the screen. A text from a delivery service. [Your order from The Daily Grind has been delivered. Enjoy the hot beverage!] He’d ordered it for her. For her cramps, a little voice in my head whispered. Before coming home to apologize to me with cakes and handbags, he had made sure his mistress was comfortable. My hand trembled, the phone suddenly feeling impossibly heavy. I almost dropped it. He had become a stranger who wore my husband’s face. Chapter 3 I slept in the guest room. Sleep, however, never came. By morning, the tech team had replaced every computer in the Operations department. I located the tower that had belonged to Chloe and had my specialist retrieve it. Within hours, he had recovered the entire hard drive. Her machine also had a client for the AI assistant. And just as I suspected, the chat logs were all there. She was the AI, Julian’s “virtual girlfriend.” The theory I had wrestled with all night was now a cold, hard fact. A tremor ran through my hands. He had mobilized company resources, coerced senior employees into lying for him, all to protect this… affair. With a shaking hand, I clicked open the chat history. I saw now that the logs on his computer had been heavily edited. Hers told the full story. Julian, the doting lover, was a character I had never known. To buy her a single latte without raising suspicion, he’d ordered coffee for her entire fifty-person department. To ensure her internship was a breeze, he lowered the performance quotas for everyone on her team. He asked her what color stockings she was wearing. What style of underwear. They had a place. A meeting spot they called their “nest.” Just last week, they had planned to meet there. She had asked if she should bring a morning-after pill. His reply was simple: No need. Followed by another message. [Our baby would be stronger than anything she could ever carry.] The words on the screen blurred. I felt as if lightning had struck the base of my spine. Last year, I was pregnant with his child. Our child. He came home one night after a client dinner, drunk. He called me to open the garage door for him, and in his stupor, he hit the accelerator instead of the brake. He pinned me against the wall. The baby was gone. When he sobered up, he fell to his knees, sobbing, begging for forgiveness. He swore he would pray for our lost child’s soul every single day. I had forgiven him. For us, for our future, I had buried the pain and forgiven him. And now this. The man who killed our child was telling another woman that I was too weak to be a mother. A tremor, violent and cold, seized my entire body. I gripped the mouse so hard I thought the plastic might crack. I sat there in the dark, the screen’s glow illuminating my face, until the city lights outside my window began to blur into the dawn. My life, thirty years of it, felt like it was fracturing at the seams. I saved everything, every file, every chat log. Then I drove to the office to find Julian, who had texted me to say he was working late. I saw his car in his designated VIP spot in the underground garage, its lights flashing once as he unlocked it. And then I saw them. He and Chloe, emerging from two different elevator banks, their paths converging at his black sedan. I shrank back into the shadows behind a concrete pillar. They didn’t even make it into the car. The moment they reached each other, they fell into a desperate, hungry kiss, like two lovers who had been starved of each other for years. When the kiss finally broke, Julian framed her face with his hands, his voice a low, intense murmur. “Just wait. As soon as I’m named Chairman tomorrow, I’ll find a way to make Eleanor… disappear. Then we can be together, forever.” Chloe gazed up at him, her eyes shining with adoration. “I know you’ve been planning this for years, Julian. I’ll wait. I know you’ll succeed.” A chill so profound it felt like ice water flooding my veins shot up my spine. My knees buckled, and I had to brace myself against the pillar to keep from collapsing. My heart felt like it was being shredded. This wasn’t just an affair. It was a long con. My entire life with him, our marriage, his career… it was all a stepping stone. He had used me. He had used my family. He had used our dead child. I waited until their taillights vanished up the ramp before I stumbled out of the darkness. I didn’t go home that night. Julian called and texted, a frantic barrage of feigned concern. I sent him a single reply: [See you at the shareholder meeting tomorrow.] That was all it took. He immediately relaxed, texting back a simple, “Sleep well, honey,” not even bothering to ask where I was. The next day, I walked into the boardroom precisely on time. Julian’s face lit up when he saw me. He rushed over with the proxy voting form. As the majority shareholder, I usually delegated my voting rights to him. Today was his coronation, the day he would leverage my shares to secure the Chairmanship of my father’s company. My 40% stake would guarantee his victory. I signed the document. As I handed it back, I glanced across the room and saw Chloe, standing proudly among the employee representatives, a smug smile on her face.

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In college, I was the most popular girl on campus, and I fell in love with a boy in worn-out Converse. For the twelve years of our marriage, we were the couple everyone looked up to, the one our friends called “goals.” I supported him every step of the way, from a broke kid with a dream to a CEO with a seven-figure income. Lately, however, I’d discovered he was in love with a forty-year-old receptionist at his company. When I asked my husband about it, he just said, “Let’s get a divorce.” He blamed me. Said that while I had fulfilled his physical needs, I had neglected his spiritual world, that I was too focused on our child. Excuse me? Was he a three-year-old? Did he need to be breastfed? A grown man in his thirties was coming to me for his “spiritual needs”? And what about my spiritual needs? Who was supposed to fulfill those? Should I go out and find some old boy toy to keep me company? It’s true what they say: when a man is starving, he’ll eat anything. Fine. Divorce it is. 1 When Leo saw the divorce papers on his desk, he didn’t say a word. The terms were simple: the house, the cars, and our son all went to me. He would pay me a one-time settlement of twenty million dollars for alimony and child support. After that, we would not contact each other again. He was in the middle of a conference call. He glanced down, and I saw his expression flicker for a fraction of a second at the words “Divorce Agreement.” He then gave a slight nod, acknowledging he’d seen it. I left his home office and closed the door. To save us both time, I began packing all of his clothes and belongings. It took three large suitcases. Not wanting to miss anything, I even went up to the attic and found a box of his childhood photos to put inside. The last thing I saw was our wedding photo, tucked away in a corner. In it, Leo was impossibly handsome, and my smile was radiant. We were wrapped in each other’s arms, bathed in sunlight. I could almost hear his voice, a constant whisper in my ear back then: “I love you so much, Stella.” “I’m the luckiest man in the world.” I met Leo in college. When we met, he was a scholarship kid in frayed jeans and tattered sneakers. Plenty of guys were after me back then, but I only had eyes for him. He was calm, kind, and beautiful. He had a quiet strength I admired. We got married right after graduation. He started a company with a friend, and after I got pregnant, I became a full-time mother. I poured everything I had into taking care of Leo, our son, and our home. As the business grew, so did Leo’s networking dinners and late nights. I carved out time between school runs and household chores to stay in shape, to learn about makeup and fashion. And Leo, to his credit, was a model husband. No matter how busy he was, he always came home and helped with our son, helped with dinner, and always took my side in any disagreement with his mother. To the outside world, we were the perfect couple. I don’t know when it started, but slowly, the meetings began to shift to the evenings. Sometimes, he’d pull an all-nighter at the office. A friend once joked that I should keep a closer eye on him. I laughed it off, but a seed of doubt had been planted. A few times, I brought late-night food to the office for him and his team. There was never anything out of the ordinary. Just a group of people in a conference room, working late. And the receptionist would be there, waiting quietly at her desk. Her name was Diane. She was in her forties, not very tall, thin, with short, unassuming hair. But her voice was gentle, almost melodic, a stark contrast to her plain appearance. She always smiled and greeted me warmly. For years, I had braced myself for the possibility of this day. I’d imagined a beautiful young assistant, a bright-eyed intern, or a sharp, powerful female executive he worked with. I had never, not once, considered the receptionist. I’d heard she was divorced; her husband had cheated on her. This was her first job in years, and she was grateful for it. She came in early, memorized everyone’s coffee order, and occasionally brought in homemade pastries. Some of the employees even paid her to make their lunch every day. When I heard about it, I’d told Leo that she must be struggling and that he should look out for her. He’d been dismissive. “The office isn’t a charity, Stella. I’ve already told her to stop conducting personal business at work.” At the time, I’d teased him for being a heartless CEO. Looking back now, he was probably just upset that Diane had to go home and cook for his employees after a long day. As for why Leo chose today to ask for a divorce… it was because I made him his usual hangover remedy this morning. He’d stared at the bowl, sighed, and pushed it slightly away. After a long silence, he looked up at me, his eyes full of exhaustion, and asked if we could get a divorce. He confessed everything. The affair had been going on for six months. Every time he said he was working late, he was really sneaking away to a hotel with her. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I fought to keep my voice steady. I asked him who it was. When he said Diane’s name, I thought I’d misheard him. A wave of profound powerlessness washed over me. I felt so cold. 2 By the time Leo finished his call and came out of the office, I had finished dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and was sitting on the sofa, watching a TV show. As if nothing had happened. He went to take a shower. Halfway through, I heard him call out instinctively. “Stella, where’s my towel?” I didn’t turn around. “I packed it. You can use mine if you want. I’ll just throw it out after you’re done.” The only response was a long, heavy silence. When Leo came out, he finally saw the three suitcases by the front door. He sat down across from me and pushed the divorce agreement back in my direction. “For the child support, I can give you fifteen million now, and the rest in monthly…” I cut him off. “No. A one-time payment. A clean break.” I met his gaze. “I don’t imagine she would want you to have any more contact with me.” He looked confused. “He’s not just your son, Stella. I have a right to be a part of his life. I know this is my fault, and I’m willing to compensate you, but you don’t need to use our son to punish me.” I paused the show and looked at him, my expression serious. “Cheating was your mistake. Paying alimony and child support is the legal and moral consequence. Considering your assets, taking the house and cars is hardly asking for too much.” “As for our son, I am the one who has raised him since the day he was born. He is a highly sensitive child who needs consistency and attention. Tell me, Leo, between your work and your new romance, how much energy do you honestly have to give him? Being a part of his life is about more than money. It’s about time.” He was speechless. Finally, he said, “I’m not paying twenty million dollars to be cut out of my son’s life.” I opened the document. “The twenty million is alimony and child support. If you wish to provide additional emotional support, you can transfer funds directly to our son’s account. I’ll set one up for him.” Leo suddenly laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. “You know, Stella, I never realized how much you loved money. It’s all you can talk about.” “What else is there to talk about? Is loving you worth anything anymore?” That shut him up. His face hardened. He took a pen and signed the papers with a sharp, angry stroke, then scheduled a time for us to go to the courthouse tomorrow. He called his driver to pick him up. I finished my show and went to bed. When I woke up, Leo was gone. My son ran out of his room and hugged me, chattering excitedly about a happy dream he’d had. As I listened, I gently told him that Daddy was very busy at work and might have to be away on a business trip for a long time. Normally, he would whine and ask to call Leo, demanding to know when he was coming home. This time, he just said, “Oh.” He thought for a moment. “That’s okay. As long as I have you, Mommy.” That’s when I broke. Tears streamed down my face. I made an excuse and ran to the bathroom to compose myself. The deepest pain of this divorce wasn’t the betrayal; it was the guilt of not being able to give my son a complete family. But I knew, with absolute certainty, that this was not my fault. I dropped my son off at school, then met Leo at the courthouse. We filed the initial paperwork. There was a mandatory 30-day cooling-off period. After that, it would be final. Back in my car, I circled the date on my calendar. Divorce countdown: 30 days. 3 I debated whether to tell my parents. I had grown up in this city; all our friends and family were here. My parents were retired teachers, and I was their only child. They were open-minded, but my father’s health had been poor the last couple of years. I decided to wait. Two days later, Leo called me. He rarely called; he preferred to text because I always replied immediately. I had deleted and blocked his number last night. I answered. His voice was casual, as if nothing had changed. “Stella, your mom just called me. She’s made a big dinner and wants us to come over tonight.” He paused. “I know your dad isn’t well. I think… maybe we should wait to tell them about the divorce, until he’s stronger. What time should we go?” He added, “And his birthday is next Sunday. I should probably go with you to that, too.” Any hesitation I had about telling them vanished. “That won’t be necessary,” I said. “You don’t have to be stubborn about this, Stella. Their health is what’s important.” My voice was flat. “If you really cared about my father’s health, you wouldn’t have chosen this moment to cheat on me and end our marriage. My father may be unwell, but his mind is sharp. I don’t think he’d want me to stay in a marriage with a man who is unfaithful.” “Leo.” “Yes?” “Don’t call me again. If you want to see our son, follow the agreement. Once a week.” His tone shifted, the pretense of negotiation gone. “Stella, I’ll say it again. He is my son, too. My family…” “But you’re the one who abandoned his family, aren’t you?” I heard him slam something down on his desk on the other end. I hung up and took a moment to pull myself together. Then, I drove to the mall. I was going to replace everything in the house that he liked—the bedding, the sofa, all of it. And I wanted it delivered today. After the new furniture arrived, I cleaned the entire house from top to bottom. Then, I went to my parents’ place. When my mom saw me arrive alone, she assumed Leo was busy. I was silent for a moment, then my voice came out as a quiet, nervous, “Mom.” She immediately knew something was wrong. She stopped what she was doing, looked at me for a long moment, and then simply pulled me into her arms. I didn’t have to say a word. She could feel my pain. I told her everything, my voice as steady as I could make it. When I was done, she handed me a tissue. Her voice was soft. “It’s okay. Divorce is common these days. He was the one who was unfaithful. It’s better to know now. It’s over.” She took my hand, her eyes glistening. “Stella, I only ask one thing of you.” “Once this is done, no matter what happens, you never, ever go back to him.” “I promise,” I sobbed. Later, my mom and dad talked in their room for a long time. When my dad came out, he handed me a large check. He said today was a new beginning, worthy of a celebration. “I hope my baby girl,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “will be happy and free, always.” I cried in my car for a long time after leaving their house. I had been so afraid of disappointing them. They had been married for forty years and barely ever argued. When I chose to marry Leo, a boy with nothing, they had respected my decision. Now that he was a success and everyone envied me, they were supporting my decision to leave him. I wiped my tears and looked at the calendar. Divorce countdown: 28 days. 4 When I picked my son up from school, he told me that Grandpa had called and invited him to stay over for a week. He was so excited; they had made a plan to fly a new drone together. After dropping him off, my mom walked me back to my car. “Go out, Stella. Have some fun. Be happy.” She stood on the curb, watching me until I drove away. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror. My face was pale, my eyes were dull. I took out my makeup bag and put on a bright, defiant red lipstick. I went home, packed a bag, and went on a road trip for a week. I saw new places, met new people, and listened to their stories. When I came back, I felt like myself again. I looked at the calendar. Divorce countdown: 21 days. It was time for my father’s birthday party. They had booked a room at a hotel and invited a few tables of our closest friends and family. Many of them asked where Leo was. My parents deflected the questions. Just before dinner, my father stood up to give a toast. At that exact moment, Leo walked in. He was impeccably dressed, carrying several expensive-looking gift bags and a thick envelope. Our relatives greeted him warmly. He waited for my father to finish his speech, then walked over. “Dad,” he said, handing him the envelope. “Happy birthday.” 5 My father glanced at him, his expression neutral. “Mr. Chen, you’re too kind. But we can’t accept this. After all, you and Stella are divorced now. We wouldn’t want to impose.” Leo’s smile froze on his face. The room, which had been buzzing with chatter, fell completely silent. His voice was barely a whisper. “We’re still in the process…” My father shook his head. “It’s the same thing.” He turned and began to greet other guests. Leo stood there, frozen. My mother politely took the gift bags and handed them back to him. He didn’t stay. After he left, no one mentioned his name again. It was a relief. I was healing, accepting, and slowly shedding the identity of “Mrs. Chen.” I was becoming Stella again. Even the staff in my apartment building, having heard the news from somewhere, started calling me Ms. Lin instead of Mrs. Chen. I decided I needed to get busy. I was going to open a coffee shop. I found a place that was for sale, already beautifully renovated and in a great location. I signed the lease immediately. The staff agreed to stay on, so I could keep the doors open while I spent some time refining the menu and rebranding. I spent the whole day at the shop, planning. As I got in my car to head home, I glanced at the calendar. Divorce countdown: 15 days.

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1 On our fifth anniversary, I found an old phone in Tim’s safe. The password was his first love’s birthday. Inside, it chronicled every sweet moment of their past. Meanwhile, his current photo album didn’t contain a single picture of me. “Find anything interesting, Kate? Prying into other people’s privacy?” I turned to face the man standing in the doorway. I didn’t shout, didn’t make a scene. I just said, calmly, “Let’s get a divorce.” Tim formatted the phone right in front of me, his expression so detached it was impossible to read. “Is that better?” he asked. “Still want a divorce?” I nodded, my resolve firm. “Yes.” … “Alright, that’s enough. Don’t be dramatic.” Tim’s brow furrowed with a familiar impatience. “Be good,” he said, his voice softening into a practiced, placating tone. “Once the year-end project is done, I’ll make time to take you to Aspen to see the snow, okay?” When I didn’t respond, a ghost of a smile touched his lips. With his usual careless grace, he tapped a finger against my forehead. “I’m not kidding this time. I mean it.” I almost laughed. I’m not kidding this time. So he knew. He knew he’d been kidding all the other times. The trip to Aspen had been a promise he’d postponed year after year. The movie dates where I’d wait alone at the theater entrance until the film started without him. The times he’d sworn he was on his way to pick me up, only to leave me stranded in a downpour, his car never appearing. Tim always broke his promises to me. And now, he thought dangling this one again was some grand gesture, a reward. “No, thank you,” I said, taking a deep breath and repeating myself with unwavering clarity. “Tim, I want a divorce.” This time, the warmth vanished from his eyes, his patience finally snapping. “Kate, you’re being completely unreasonable.” “Go to Aspen or don’t. I’ve given you a way out.” “Just don’t come crying to me later, saying I didn’t keep my word.” With that, he grabbed his coat from the sofa and turned to leave, not even glancing at the dinner I had so carefully prepared to his tastes. I remained silent. For the first time, I didn’t try to make him stay, not even for another minute. He paused at the door, his footsteps faltering for a fraction of a second as he looked back. I had already sat down at the table, picked up my chopsticks, and begun to eat alone. He slammed the door on his way out, the sound echoing with an unvented rage. My heart didn’t ache anymore. There was nothing left but a barren wasteland. I used to think that a man like Tim, so far above it all, would never be touched by ordinary, domestic things. But the phone had shown me otherwise. It showed him cooking for the girl he loved. How a single word of her praise made the cuts on his hands and the blisters from the hot pan feel like badges of honor. He had even whispered such childish, sweet things: “Cooking for the person you love is true happiness.” “I’m going to cook for Isabelle for the rest of our lives. Keep her so happy and well-fed that she’ll never want to leave me.” Reading those entries was the first time I truly understood what a complete and utter joke I was. The next day, I met my best friend, a lawyer, at a coffee shop and asked her to draft the divorce papers. “What happened between you two? Is it really that serious this time?” she asked, her face etched with surprise. She knew better than anyone how much I loved Tim. In the past, our fights never went beyond a few days of cold silence. “I’m just so tired,” I said, gazing out at the traffic. “And… she’s back.” That one pronoun was enough. My friend understood immediately. Isabelle. Tim’s unforgettable first love. Her name was like a tiny needle embedded in my heart. It drew no blood, but it never stopped pricking me with pain. I had never even met her, yet her ghost had haunted my marriage for five years. Tim insisted on his privacy, yet he and Isabelle had shared a music streaming account. Tim hated exposing his life online, yet his old social media was a shrine to her. The art exhibits he took me to were always by her favorite painters. He claimed shopping with me was a waste of time, yet he had once spent weeks exploring every antique market in the city with her. Two years of dating, three years of marriage, and Tim had never once removed her from his heart. I was nothing more than a placeholder, a comfortable habit to fill the empty space she’d left behind. A second choice. “Okay. I’ll handle the papers. I’ll make sure you don’t get screwed over,” my friend promised, her expression worried. “But Kate… are you absolutely sure?” “I told you from the start, he wasn’t right for you. He never cleared out his heart before letting you in. You’ve been torturing yourself by being with him.” “But you just dove in headfirst and wouldn’t listen to anyone.” I stirred my coffee, my eyes downcast. “Some walls you just have to smash your head against until you’re bloody before you’re willing to turn around.” 2 The sky was a dreary gray, and the rain started without warning. My friend’s husband showed up to get her. “I told you not to come,” she chided gently. “And let my queen get wet? Not a chance,” he grinned. “Hey Kate, you want a ride? We can drop you off.” I smiled and shook my head. “You two go ahead. I’ll just sit for a bit longer.” I used to be so envious of their easy affection, the genuine care that flowed between them. Why was it that Tim and I, also husband and wife, always had an invisible wall between us? Why? The answer was simple. He didn’t love me enough. And I had been lying to myself for so long, pretending it was just his nature, that he didn’t know how to love. When the rain lessened, I stepped outside. Just then, a familiar Audi pulled up to the curb. In the passenger seat was a woman in a cream-colored dress, her hair in soft waves, exuding an air of gentle elegance. Tim got out from the driver’s side and started walking toward the coffee shop, likely just passing through. When he saw me, his expression didn’t change, save for a slight arch of his eyebrow. He probably expected me to greet him, but I just looked down at my phone, checking my rideshare app. Distracted, I missed a step and my ankle twisted beneath me. Tim shot me another indifferent glance, his brow furrowing slightly before he disappeared inside. He didn’t help me. I gritted my teeth against the shooting pain in my ankle and continued to wait by the curb. A few minutes later, Tim emerged with two coffees. “Let’s go,” he said, his tone cool and impatient. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to give you a ride?” “…I didn’t.” He didn’t bother arguing, simply pulling me toward the car and pushing me into the back seat. He placed one of the coffees beside me. I didn’t take it. The drive was silent, the atmosphere thick with tension. Suddenly, Isabelle pressed a hand to her forehead. “Tim, I think my blood sugar is dropping. Do you have any candy?” Without missing a beat, Tim reached into the glove compartment and handed her a piece of chocolate. “How many times do I have to remind you? You never learn.” Isabelle took it with a small, sweet smile. “I always forget when I get busy. Good thing I have you.” They fell into easy conversation, talking about old times, mutual friends, and shared memories. Their words were woven with an effortless intimacy. I sat in the back, an invisible, unwelcome audience. The scenery blurred past the window. We passed the city park, where the giant Ferris wheel turned slowly. It was where Tim and I had our first date. Legend has it that couples who kiss at the very top will be happy forever. I had stolen a kiss from him then. He had stared at me for a long moment, stunned. I thought it was one of our few shared, sweet memories. Only later did I learn that Tim’s greatest regret was never having brought Isabelle to ride that same Ferris wheel. Flashes of the past flickered through my weary mind—mostly my one-sided hopes and his dismissive responses. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me. When I woke, we were parked in front of our apartment building. Isabelle was gone. Tim unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at my swollen ankle, his brow deeply creased. “Kate,” his voice was low, “do you really have to do this?” I looked up, confused. “If you wanted me to pick you up, you could have just said so. Did you have to resort to such a stupid trick to get my attention?” His tone was steady, but it was threaded with an irritation he couldn’t hide. I didn’t know what he was so annoyed about. Maybe I had interrupted his precious time alone with his first love. “You’re overthinking it, Tim.” “I didn’t ask you for a ride.” He probably thought I was just being stubborn. He scoffed. “Oh? And what were you planning to do? Crawl home?” “I could have taken a cab,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m not helpless without you, Tim. I clung to you because I loved you. It doesn’t mean I’m useless on my own.” “Useless? Kate, you’re welcome to try leaving. Let’s see if I come crawling back to you.” The man’s eyes darkened again. I had no desire to argue with him. Soon enough, the divorce papers would be on his desk. Then he would know. This time, I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was serious. 3 I pushed open the car door, trying to get out on my own. But he was faster. He got out, came around, and swept me into his arms. It wasn’t gentle, but he didn’t let me fall. Inside, he found the first-aid kit and inexpertly sprayed my ankle with a cooling spray, his expression still cold. “Don’t do this again.” I watched him in silence. This was Tim’s way. A slap, then a piece of candy. Hot and cold, leaving me in a state of perpetual confusion. Did he have any genuine feelings for me at all? Worrying about whether someone loves you is a fool’s game, and I had been a fool for five years. It was time to wake up. Done trying to read his mind, I simply said, “Thank you.” He stood by the sofa, unmoving. “Is there anything else?” I asked. Tim’s lips thinned. “Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?” I shook my head calmly. The truth was, I’d already seen Isabelle’s social media. The day before, she had posted a photo from the airport. The caption was a single word: “Waiting.” I had scoured the comments. There was no like or reply from Tim. But I knew he would go. And he did. “I’m tired. I want to sleep,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’ll take the guest room tonight.” He grabbed my wrist. “Kate!” For the first time ever, he actually tried to explain himself. “It’s not what you think with Isabelle. I only picked her up because she just got back to the country and doesn’t know her way around. I was just helping out.” “Mm-hmm,” I said. “You should.” He studied my face, searching for any sign that I was faking my indifference. “Kate, it was over between us a long time ago. We’re just friends now.” I nodded, my disinterest genuine. “I know.” He pulled me into his arms, a rare, unprompted attempt at a kiss. His warmth seeped through my clothes, a sensation I had once craved more than anything. He knew I loved physical affection. He thought a simple kiss would fix everything. But I turned my head, and his lips met the air. Tim froze, clearly stunned by my rejection. His face hardened. “Kate, my patience has its limits. You’d better not push it too far.” We slept in separate rooms that night. He left the master bedroom for me. When I woke the next morning, the house was silent. He was already gone. I felt nothing. I went to the office and handed in my resignation. If I was leaving, I was leaving completely. I had only taken this job to be with him, to have more time together. But at the office, he insisted we keep our marriage a secret, saying it would be “unprofessional.” He deliberately kept his distance. Whenever he needed a subordinate to accompany him on a business trip, he never chose me. During meetings, he treated me like I was invisible. Even when I single-handedly closed a major project, I never received a word of praise from him. His coldness was so pronounced that our colleagues whispered, wondering if he had a personal grudge against me. The HR manager was one of the few people who knew about us. “You’re leaving?” she asked, surprised. “But Mr. Sinclair only said you were being demoted, not let go…” I stared at her. “Demoted?” She nodded, her eyes full of pity. “Your position was filled by a new hire, someone from overseas. Mr. Sinclair arranged it himself.” A chill spread through my chest. My voice trembled as I asked, “Is her name… Isabelle?” “Yes, that’s her.” I had to grip the desk to keep from falling. Even though I was already leaving, the news hit me like an earthquake, a crushing wave of defeat. Tim had never given me any special treatment at this company. I had earned my way to the director position through my own hard work and talent. And just like that, he gave it all away to her.

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On a road trip through the Rockies, my brother Mark and his wife Jess urged their son Leo to feed Flamin’ Hot Cheetos to a grizzly bear. They roared with laughter at the bear’s clumsy reaction to the spice and posted the video online. It went viral overnight, gaining over a million views. Suddenly dreaming of becoming influencers, they actively sought out grizzlies to feed the next day. To my horror, I realized the “docile, bumbling” bear entertaining them was the exact same one from yesterday. Peering through the car window, I saw the grizzly chomping snacks, slobber dripping. Its goofy manner stood out, captivating my brother’s family as they filmed endlessly. After more chips, the bear waved its paws, mouth open and tongue out—absurdly cute, sending them into giggles again. Mark repositioned for a better angle: “Leo, get closer! Big smile!” Jess added, “Give it another. We need more footage from different angles to edit later.” We’d stopped to feed this bear multiple times without issue, but dread tightened in my stomach. I rewatched last night’s video on my phone: This grizzly was unique—not just its mannerisms, but the distinct silver-gray patch on its neck matched perfectly. There was no doubt. It was the same bear. Yesterday, it had been the same routine. The grizzly had stared intently at my brother’s family, eagerly accepting any and all snacks, chewing with a sloppy gusto as drool pooled on the ground. The comment section was flooded. “I’ve never seen a grizzly with such a case of the munchies!” “This bear is such a glutton! So adorable!” Perhaps my stare was too intense. After gulping down another handful of crackers, the bear’s two beady black eyes swiveled in my direction. A jolt of fear shot through me. I quickly rolled up the window, turned away, and pressed my back against the seat, taking a deep breath. Just to be safe, I locked the doors again. Something was off about this grizzly. It was behaving… too harmlessly. It was like a well-trained circus animal performing for a crowd, knowing exactly which expressions and movements would delight its human audience. I turned to our guide. “Cody, how much farther to the next campsite?” Cody glanced back from the driver’s seat. “Not far. Maybe another thirty miles.” “What? That close? You don’t think… these bears will follow us, do you?” My panicked tone seemed to amuse him, and he let out a hearty laugh. “No way. Grizzlies only chase prey for a hundred feet, tops. They give up pretty quick.” Seeing the worry still etched on my face, he added, “Relax. The site is perfectly safe. I’ve taken dozens of groups there. Never had a single problem.” I did a quick search on my phone. Grizzlies can sprint over 30 miles per hour, with a home range that can exceed 600 square miles. Cody was right; they rarely engage in prolonged pursuits of prey. If their target escapes that initial short-range burst, they usually lose interest. But what if this bear was different? We’d seen plenty of other wildlife on this trip. Food didn’t seem to be scarce for the bear population here. So why would this one follow us for a full day and night, over such a distance, just for a few bags of junk food? No, that couldn’t be it. Human food might be an easy meal, but for a seven-foot-tall grizzly, it was barely an appetizer. Plenty of tourists driving through these parks stop to feed the bears. There was no reason for it to single us out. Unless… we weren’t just a source of snacks. Unless we were the prey it was stalking. After my persistent urging, my brother and his family finally, reluctantly, got back in the car. The moment he was inside, Leo kicked my seat. “What’s the rush? It’s your fault! I wasn’t done feeding the bear!” Jess shot me a contemptuous look over the seat. “What’s the matter, Rachel? Jealous that we’re finally getting some attention?” She then turned to my brother with a dramatic pout. “Honey, you know who hates to see you succeed? The people you think are closest to you. They just can’t stand to see you doing better than them.” I opened my mouth to explain, but Mark cut me off. “Rachel, can’t you just be happy for me for once? Have you already forgotten who defended you when that bigger kid from down the street used to bully you?” Of course, I hadn’t forgotten. But his memory was selective. He’d conveniently forgotten that the kid only bullied me because Mark had stolen his new toy in the first place. This wasn’t the time to argue about the past, however. I quickly explained my discovery about the bear. They brushed it off, accusing me of making a big deal out of nothing. Cody, our guide, did lean over to glance at the comparison photos on my phone. “Huh, they do look alike. But there are a lot of grizzlies around here. It’s not crazy to think a couple of them might look similar.” Seeing that no one believed me, I made a direct appeal. “For safety’s sake, I think we should cancel the stargazing campout tonight. I checked the map—there’s a lodge about a hundred and fifty miles from here.” Jess shrieked. “No way! The stargazing campout is the one thing I’ve been looking forward to on this whole trip. We are not canceling it.” Mark scowled at me. “You’re always making things difficult. The professional guide says it’s fine. You think you, a first-timer out here, know better than him?” That’s when Leo completely lost it. He twisted around in his seat and, before I could react, grabbed a fistful of my hair. “We’re going camping! You useless leech! You used our money for this trip, and now you’re trying to ruin it! Why don’t you just die!” The little monster was stronger than he looked. The sudden, sharp pain as he nearly ripped my hair from my scalp was the last straw. A flood of frustration from the entire trip, stimulated by the pain, surged through me. I let out a roar and dug my nails deep into his arm, finally breaking his grip. Leo stared at me, his eyes wide with shock at my bloodshot glare, the pain in his arm registering a second later. He burst into tears. Jess, who had been ignoring the whole thing, instantly wrapped her arms around her son, turning on me. “He’s just a child! How could you, a grown woman, get into a fight with a kid?” she screeched. “What kind of an aunt are you? You have such a cruel heart, attacking an eight-year-old boy like that. Are you even human?” Her voice cracked with faux tears as she continued her tirade. “I never lay a hand on him, not even when he misbehaves, and you just attack him! Honey, look! She practically tore the skin off his arm!” From the passenger seat, my brother turned and glared at me, his eyes burning with rage. If Cody hadn’t been between us, I’m sure he would have hit me. “Rachel, I swear, if Leo is seriously hurt, I’ll make you regret it.” This trip had been my idea, a naive attempt to mend my fractured relationship with my brother and his wife. But it had been nothing but a string of conflicts. The thought of our parents, however, always made me back down, made me swallow my pride. But this time, I decided to respect their choices, and their fate. “If you’re not going to the lodge, then I’ll go by myself.” Mark immediately shut me down. “No. We only have one car. How would that work?” “You could have Cody drop you all at the campsite, then he can take me to the lodge and come back for you.” “That’s not happening either!” Jess snapped. “After the campout, we’re heading to the next scenic spot, which is in the opposite direction of your lodge. And why should we waste all that time just because of you?” Her tone shifted to one of suspicion. “The place you picked is so far from the campsite. What if the car doesn’t come back? What are the three of us supposed to do, stranded in the middle of nowhere?” She glared at me, her voice dripping with venom. “I see what you’re doing. You’re hoping something happens to us, aren’t you? What is wrong with you? I knew it! Inviting us on this trip… it was like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You had an ulterior motive all along.” In the end, it was three against one. I was forced to go with them to the campsite. But I refused to get out of the car. I locked the doors, clutched my backpack, and stayed put in the driver’s seat. The night sky over the Rockies was, admittedly, breathtaking. Tonight, my brother’s livestream was more popular than ever. A photo of Leo feeding the grizzly spicy chips was trending. They regaled their audience with tales of their “tame” grizzly friend, inspiring a wave of wannabe adventurers. Some viewers were already planning their own trips. “The Rockies are so beautiful! I can’t wait, I’m booking my flight tomorrow to find my own grizzly buddy!” “Wait for me, baby grizzly! Auntie is coming to the Rockies tomorrow with lots of yummy treats!” I frantically typed in the comments, pleading with people not to take the risk, reminding them that grizzlies are omnivores and that attacks in the region were not uncommon. I begged them not to feed wild animals. But my warnings were quickly drowned out by a tide of mockery and praise for my brother’s “bravery.” Exhausted after a long night of performing for their online audience, the three of them finally retired to their tent and fell into a deep sleep. The wilderness fell silent around me. As I gazed up at the star-dusted canvas above, my own eyelids grew heavy. Just then, the car’s headlights flashed twice. Someone had pressed the lock button on the key fob. I sat bolt upright. There were only two keys to this SUV. One was in Mark’s pocket; the other was with Cody, our guide. Neither of them would play a childish prank like this. The only person who would was Leo. I peered through the window toward their tent. It was silent and dark beside the dying embers of the campfire. If it had been Leo, he wouldn’t have been able to resist gloating by now. Click. It was the sound of a door handle being pulled. The door held, but only because it was locked. A terrifying premonition washed over me. I pressed my thumb down hard on the lock button on the armrest, while silently sliding my body down into the footwell of the driver’s seat. Click. Another soft sound. My heart hammered against my ribs. I stabbed the lock button again. Someone had just used the key to unlock the car, and the interior light had flicked on. The person outside tried the driver’s side door again. It didn’t open. Suddenly, a grizzly’s face pressed flat against the window, its beady black eyes scanning the car’s interior. Huddled beneath the steering wheel, shielded only by my backpack, my heart threatened to beat its way out of my chest. I prayed the bear hadn’t seen me. I sent a quick text to both my brother and our guide, Cody. 【BE CAREFUL. BEAR OUTSIDE THE TENT!】 Ding! Doo-doop! Two distinct notification sounds chirped in the dead silence of the night. One came from the direction of the tent. My brother’s phone. The other came from just outside the car, in the opposite direction of the tent. Cody’s. My hand tightened around my phone as the screen went dark. The last flicker of hope died within me. When I’d heard those strange locking and unlocking sounds, I’d suspected Cody might be in trouble. I hadn’t seen him since late evening and had just assumed he was resting in his own tent. Who would have guessed that the most experienced member of our group, the local guide, would be the first to fall? I had clung to a sliver of hope that maybe he’d just dropped the key and a bear had found it. Now, there was no other possibility. The same grizzly was now on the hood of the car. A colossal shadow blotted out the windshield. The bear was perched right there, peering inside. I curled myself into an even tighter ball beneath the steering wheel, not daring to move a muscle. Just then, voices came from the tent. My brother and sister-in-law had spotted the bear outside. But their reaction wasn’t fear. It was excitement. Jess’s distinct, high-pitched voice cut through the night air. “Honey, this is perfect! I can’t believe there’s a grizzly here, too. We’ve got more content!” she squealed. “We can shoot a ‘Bonfire Party with a Grizzly Under the Stars’ video! I bet you anything that if we post this, it’ll blow up.” The thought of her future as a wealthy influencer made her voice tremble with excitement. She urged Leo to open all the snack bags and lure the bear closer to the campfire. Their successful, consequence-free interactions with the bear all day had made them forget a fundamental truth: bears are apex predators. For the sake of a viral video, they were casually discarding their own safety, getting dangerously close. They had no idea what a fatal decision they were making. Catching the scent of the snacks, the bear by the tent first lifted its nose to the air, then began to move clumsily, hesitantly, toward them. The campfire seemed to make it cautious. Its tentative approach only made my brother’s family laugh harder. “It’s okay, big guy, we won’t hurt you,” Jess cooed. Leo even pulled out a piece of beef jerky, holding it out toward the bear. “Here, bear bear! Come get the yummy food!” The commotion over there caught the attention of the bear on my car. It hopped off the hood and began to sneak up behind my brother, who had his back to us, trying to find the perfect angle to film Jess and Leo. They were in extreme danger. I immediately called Mark’s phone, wanting to scream at them to get to the car. He declined the call and kept filming. And then, it happened.

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Jack was insatiable in bed, so I did the only thing I could: I broke his heart and ended it. The next second, a rear-end collision wiped my memory clean. Gone was the memory of Jack’s relentless stamina, of being pushed to my limits night after night. Gone was the vow I’d made to myself: I’d rather date a boring, vanilla guy than ever get back with Jack. Later, when friends and family came to visit me in the hospital, Jack was among them. The moment he walked into the room, I gripped my best friend’s arm, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Oh, crap,” I whispered. “That one’s definitely my type.” 1 When I woke up in the hospital, my mind was a perfect, pristine blank. It took ten minutes of questioning the woman at my bedside—who claimed to be my best friend—to learn that a car accident had landed me here. She pointed at her own chest, her expression a mask of disbelief. “It’s me, Anna! Your best friend! You seriously don’t remember me?” I shook my head. I didn’t even remember my own name, let alone hers. The doctor assured us my health was fine and suggested Anna fill me in on my past. He said the memories might just click back into place one day. Anna, ever the woman of action, immediately pulled a chair up to my bed. “Okay, so: You’re Lillian Hayes. Your parents are scientists—super busy, as you’ve probably guessed, since they haven’t rushed here yet. “We’ve been best friends since high school. Oh, and you have a boyfriend. His name is Jack Vance. I’ve already called him.” Jack Vance. I rolled the name over in my mind, but it sparked nothing. Not a single flicker of recognition. By the time night fell, this Jack Anna had told me about still hadn’t shown up. “What the hell is Jack’s deal?” Anna grumbled, pacing the small room. “You were in a car crash! I mean, yeah, it wasn’t life-threatening, but he’s your boyfriend. He should at least come see you, right?” She threw her hands up. “He always acted so completely obsessed with you before!” Her words meant nothing to me. With no memories, I had no basis for judgment. My phone had been totaled in the wreck, so I couldn’t even try to contact him myself. For the next few days, Anna was my rock, my sole caretaker at the hospital. Through her stories, I started piecing together a mosaic of my past self. I learned that Jack and I had been together for three years, and our relationship had always been passionate. “You have no idea, Lily,” she said, her eyes wide. “The guy was like a human octopus, completely touch-starved. He was always all over you. All our friends were sick of your PDA. “I remember this one time you hid out at my place for days just to get a break, and when Jack finally found you, his eyes were bloodshot…” Seeing my spirits dip, Anna quickly tried to reassure me. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s just tied up with something important. I’ll give him another call and see what’s up.” But I’d overheard her call to him yesterday. I had heard Jack’s voice, cold and sharp through the speaker. “Lillian and I are over. Her life has nothing to do with me anymore. Please tell her to stop trying to contact me.” Anna was probably just trying to protect my feelings by not telling me. 2 I had no idea why Jack and I would have broken up. Even my closest friend didn’t seem to know. But hey, there are plenty of fish in the sea. I decided not to dwell on it. The day before I was discharged, a group of friends and family arranged to visit. As a crowd of unfamiliar faces drifted toward my bed, all I could do was offer a weak smile and a nod. I didn’t recognize a single one of them. Then, a man appeared at the back of the group, a man whose good looks weren’t just about vibe or style. He was the kind of handsome that would stop you in your tracks, even in a plain white shirt. It was a raw, undeniable beauty that pulled your gaze and held it captive. I dug my nails into Anna’s arm. “I’m screwed,” I breathed. “I really, really like that one.” Anna shot me a look that was a complicated mix of pity and exasperation. “Well, that proves it. You’ve definitely lost your memory.” I blinked, confused. “What do you mean?” She sighed, a heavy, world-weary sound. “That’s Jack.” My world crumbled. Sure, there were plenty of men out there, but my heart had just zeroed in on him and him alone. Jack was here, but he didn’t approach me, didn’t say a single word. He hung back, a silent, brooding statue. My frustration simmered. When he stepped out to take a call, I slipped out of bed and followed him. From down the hallway, I could faintly hear him talking about something taking too long, mentioning medication as a solution… I waited until he hung up, then rushed over, forcing a bright smile. “Hi! Anna told me you’re my boyfriend?” Jack’s gaze locked onto mine, his eyes cold. “Wrong,” he corrected flatly. “Ex-boyfriend.” “Haha.” The laugh was dry and brittle in my throat. “No way. If you were my ex, why would you even be here at the hospital?” At that, a flicker of pure derision crossed his face. “What kind of game are you playing now, Lily?” “Huh?” What was he talking about? “You must have heard,” I said, my voice softer. “I don’t have any of my old memories.” I took a small step closer. “But I feel like… if I had a boyfriend who looked like you, I probably wouldn’t break up with him unless it was for a really good reason.” I mumbled the last part, unsure if he even heard me. Gaining a bit of courage, I reached for his hand. “So… can we get back together?” The next second, he jerked his hand away as if my touch had burned him. He let out a short, harsh laugh. “Lillian, what kind of man do you take me for?” He turned to leave. I scrambled to block his path. “Then at least tell me why we broke up!” My question seemed to ignite something in him. He looked even angrier, his jaw clenching so tight I could see the muscles flex. For a long moment, he just glared, a storm brewing in his eyes, but not a single word escaped his lips. 3 A terrible thought began to form in my mind. Jack had refused to see me after the accident. He only showed up, putting on this show of concern, after he heard I had amnesia. My voice was tight with suspicion. “It was because I found out you were cheating, wasn’t it? That’s why I broke up with you.” Jack froze for a second, then laughed. It wasn’t a sound of amusement; it was the sound of something breaking. He ground out the words through clenched teeth. “I wish it were that simple.” “What?” Could it be… that I was the one who cheated? Looking at the raw, barely-contained fury on his face, the flicker of hatred in his eyes, a wave of guilt washed over me. “Uh… sorry. My mistake. Never mind.” I scurried back to my room. The next day, Anna helped me check out of the hospital. In the car, she finally spoke, her voice hesitant. “So, uh… Jack called me last night. He said you should come by and pick up your things when you have time.” So he was really eager to cut all ties. It seemed more and more likely that I was the one at fault. I had to ask. “Anna, was I getting close to any other guys recently? Besides Jack?” Anna thought for a moment, then her face lit up with recognition. “Well, there was your senior from college, Leo.” I didn’t dare ask any more questions. 4 That evening, when I went to Jack’s apartment to pack my things, he was sitting on the sofa, a dark cloud hanging over him. But even with that grim expression, his handsome face was still enough to make my head spin. Does anyone understand this specific kind of despair? Finally finding your perfect type, only to wake up and discover he’s already your ex-boyfriend? I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and bursting into tears. “I’m so sorry! I was wrong!” I sobbed into his shoulder. “Jack, please forgive me, okay? I’ll never do it again! “I swear, no other man out there is half as good as you. Please, let’s not be broken up, okay?” I lifted my tear-streaked face to look at him. His expression was a mask of strained control. He stared into my eyes for a long, searching moment, as if trying to decipher if my words were real or just another performance. I sniffled pathetically, tightening my arms around him. “Jack, just give me one more chance, please? I promise, I’ll only love you from now on.” But before he could answer, the front door, which had been left ajar, swung open. A beautiful woman in a white dress stood in the doorway. “Jack,” she said, her voice soft. My eyes shot to Jack, and I caught the flash of panic in his gaze. My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. It looked like Jack had already moved on. So what did that make me? A desperate, pathetic fool. Shame washed over me in a hot wave, and I scrambled off his lap. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” My voice was a choked whisper. “I’m so sorry to bother you. I won’t come back again.” With that, I covered my face and fled. It wasn’t until I was downstairs that I remembered what I’d come for. My stuff was still up there. I glanced up at his window. Two silhouettes stood close together. As I watched, their shadows drew closer, finally melting into one. The sight was a dagger to my eyes. I wrenched my gaze away. Forget the stuff. Did I really want to humiliate myself any further? I climbed back into Anna’s car, sobbing. Seeing me empty-handed and my eyes swollen shut, Anna assumed Jack had been cruel to me. She started rolling up her sleeves, ready for battle. “That’s it, he’s gone too far! You’re broken up, does he really need to be such a jerk about it?” I grabbed her arm. “No, it’s not like that. He didn’t do anything to me.” “Then what is it? Just tell me!” Anna’s patience was wearing thin. I wiped my face, resigned to the truth. “It’s me,” I said quietly. “I think I’m still in love with him. Seeing him with his new girlfriend… it just really hurt.” Anna’s jaw dropped. “What? You just broke up and he already has a replacement? Are you sure he wasn’t cheating on you the whole time?” “That’s what I thought at first,” I mumbled. “But with my memory gone, I have no way of knowing the real reason we broke up.” All I knew was that my mind, and my heart, were a complete mess. 5 Seeing me mope around for days, Anna dragged me to a bar to lift my spirits. I ordered a round of shots, ready to drink myself into oblivion, but Anna snatched the glass from my hand. “Not so fast,” she said with a mysterious grin. “Someone else is coming.” The person she was talking about was a mild-mannered guy with glasses. I stared at him for a long moment, but his face drew a complete blank. Anna slapped her forehead. “God, my brain! I keep forgetting about the amnesia.” She gestured to him. “Lily, this is Leo, your senior from college. He helped us out a ton back in the day.” I quickly stood up to greet him. “Leo, I’m so sorry, I really don’t remember.” Leo took my hand, his smile warm and reassuring. “I heard about your accident. Don’t worry about it, of course I understand.” But not long after we sat down, I started to notice Leo’s gaze lingering on me a little too often. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Oh God, did I already have something going on with him? But even with amnesia, I was still me. And looking at Leo, I felt… nothing. Absolutely nothing. Surely the old me wouldn’t have been that clueless, right? As my mind spiraled, Anna nudged me with her elbow. “Well, look who it is.” I followed her gaze. Jack and a group of his friends were walking into the bar. The woman in the white dress was with him. My mood instantly soured. Anna, ever the loyal best friend, read my mind. Her expression shifted to one of disgust. “Wow, he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. What a pig.” She leaned in, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Hey, bestie. You feel like getting a little revenge? Rattle his cage a bit?” I slumped onto the table, my head in my arms. “How? He obviously doesn’t care about me anymore.” “You don’t know that until you try.” A wicked smile spread across her face. She grabbed my hand and Leo’s and pulled us toward the dance floor. Leo seemed to understand her plan perfectly, staying close to me, his body a warm shield against the crowd. I tried to escape a few times, but Anna held me firm. “You wanted to know if he still has feelings for you, right?” she whispered in my ear. “If he does, seeing you this close to another guy will drive him insane.” So I stayed. I forced myself to dance, feeling awkward and exposed, but Jack’s group never once glanced in our direction. A wave of defeat washed over me. In that moment, I knew. He really, truly didn’t care anymore. The spark of hope I’d been clinging to died out. I excused myself to go to the restroom and left the dance floor. 6 I splashed cold water on my face, the shock of it clearing my head slightly. As I stared at my reflection, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. I was such an idiot. I decided then and there: I was done with Jack Vance. But as I walked out of the restroom, a hand shot out, grabbing my arm and shoving me into a dark corner by the wall. I opened my mouth to scream, but a familiar voice cut through the air from above me. “Stay away from Leo.” I looked up. Jack. His face was a thundercloud, his eyes blazing with a barely suppressed rage. What was his problem? One minute he’s ignoring me, the next he’s cornering me and giving me warnings? Was he afraid his new girlfriend would see and get jealous? A surge of anger propelled my words. “Why should I? Leo is a perfect gentleman. He’s kind and considerate. I like him. What business is it of yours?” Jack’s gaze lingered on my face for a moment before he let me go. He pulled out his phone, swiped a few times, and then held the screen up for me to see. “Leo. Kicked out of college for his ‘chaotic private life.’ Juggled multiple girls at once. The one who exposed him was pregnant with his child, and he bullied her into dropping out.” He lowered the phone. “This stuff isn’t just online. You could ask any of our old classmates, and they’d tell you the same thing. You wouldn’t be singing his praises if you knew the truth.” How could this be? The articles on his screen confirmed everything he said. I bit my lip, shame and humiliation burning my cheeks. But I didn’t want to lose. I wanted to win. “And what about you?” I shot back. “Ditching your new girlfriend to come lecture your ex? How does that make you any different from him?” Jack looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. He took a half-step back. “Lillian,” he said, his voice laced with a new kind of coldness. “I shouldn’t have bothered.” My eyes stung with unshed tears, but my voice remained hard. “Who asked you to? Keep your pity for yourself. Since you’ve chosen someone else, you should be treating her right, not breaking her heart.” His face was a mask of disappointment. “So, you’re still going to be with him?” “Whether I am or not,” I declared, “has nothing to do with you.” 7 “Jack.” As the tension between us crackled in the air, the woman from that night appeared. She walked right up to Jack and gently offered him a tissue. “You’ve got some sweat on your temple. Here, wipe it off.” Jack snapped back to reality and took the tissue. Standing together, they looked so perfectly matched. A handsome couple. Looking closer, they even resembled each other a bit. I lowered my head. No wonder he chose her. Her emotional intelligence alone was something I could probably never hope to achieve. Jack didn’t look at me again. He put his arm around the woman and started to lead her away. But then, she stopped and turned to walk toward me. In the few seconds it took for her to cross the distance, my mind raced through half a dozen dramatic confrontation scenarios. I’d heard about people like this—they seem nice on the surface, but they’re masters of passive aggression. Fearing I was no match for her, I clenched my fists, ready to bolt. But her first words were, “I think we’ve met a few times before, but you don’t seem to recognize me?” So they did know each other before. He worked fast. Jack was a real piece of work. “Sorry,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “I have face blindness. I don’t really remember people I haven’t seen much.” The woman simply nodded. “My name is Isabelle,” she said politely. “I hope you’ll remember me next time we meet.” That was it. I broke. How could she be so… so damn graceful? I was supposed to be her rival! I had lost. Utterly and completely. I ran. I fled from the bar like a coward. “Waaahhh…” I clung to Anna, crying so hard I could barely breathe. She hovered over me, completely helpless. “Lily, you have to tell me what’s wrong! How am I supposed to comfort you if I don’t know what happened?” I couldn’t speak. I just wailed. There was no way I was telling her about my total and complete humiliation. Anna, out of ideas, suggested that Leo take me home and try to console me. At the mention of his name, something clicked. I immediately refused. I wiped my tears and forced a cheerful tone. “Suddenly, I feel much better!” Leo, to his credit, didn’t press the issue. He just smiled his gentle smile. “Alright then. You two be careful. Call me when you get home.”

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It was the night of the annual company gala, and it all started because the new intern, Alex, accidentally ate a peanut and broke out in a single hive. For that, my fiancée, Sarah, decided the appropriate response was to shove me—a man with a life-threatening pollen allergy—into a ten-thousand-acre sea of wildflowers. The moment the pollen hit my face, my lungs seized. The air turned to fire. I grabbed Sarah’s arm, my fingers digging into her skin as I forced the words through my clenched teeth. “Sarah, you know I’m severely allergic. How could you do this?!” She just sneered, prying my fingers off one by one. “And you knew Alex was allergic to peanuts, so why did you let him eat them? Hurts when it’s your own skin, doesn’t it? A little late for that. Tonight, I’m going to teach you a lesson on behalf of Alex, you power-tripping bastard.” Just before she pushed me from the helicopter, she looked down at me with eyes as cold as ice. “You told Alex he just needed to be more careful, right?” she said. “Let’s see how careful you can be trying to walk out of this.” 1 I hit the ground hard, tumbling uncontrollably down a steep, flower-covered slope. Sharp rocks tore at my skin, ripping open bloody gashes with every rotation. I don’t know how long I fell, but I finally slammed to a stop against a large boulder, my body screaming in protest. It felt like I’d been torn apart. A sharp, drilling pain shot up from my right ankle. Worse, the thick, cloying scent of pollen was everywhere. I took two ragged breaths and immediately exploded into a fit of violent sneezes, tears streaming from my eyes. From above, Sarah’s voice echoed, cold and distant. “Have you learned your lesson yet? If you have, then crawl through this field, find Alex, and beg for his forgiveness. Then I’ll let you go.” I clutched my nose and throat, shaking my head frantically. A second later, a walkie-talkie thudded onto the ground beside me. The helicopter turned and flew away without a backward glance. Alex’s voice crackled through the speaker, dripping with fake concern. “Sarah, maybe we should stop? He looks like he’s really suffering. I can totally empathize with how awful allergies are.” Sarah’s reply was soft and tender, but not for me. “You’re too kind, Alex. That’s why he thinks he can walk all over you. He’s hurt you so much. Today, he gets what he deserves.” Her voice hardened as she addressed me. “Stop the act, Leo. Come over here and apologize to Alex, and our wedding next month can still happen.” A sharp pain, entirely separate from the physical agony, pierced my chest. She really expected me to crawl to him. But the burning in my sinuses was unbearable, forcing me to swallow my pride. “Sarah,” I rasped, my voice already thick and nasal. “You said you’d love me forever… You can’t do this to me… please.” The only response was the sound of Alex’s soft, deliberate breathing on the other end. Hearing it, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I dropped to my knees and retched, vomiting until my stomach was empty, my eyes swimming in tears. When there was nothing left to throw up, I just doubled over in a fit of violent, body-wracking coughs. The last time my allergies were this bad was in college. My ex-girlfriend at the time had gone into a full-blown panic, mobilizing the city’s top specialists in the middle of the night to treat me. The memory was a bitter joke now, a cruel echo in this nightmare. “How long are you going to keep up this charade?” Sarah’s voice crackled again. “It seems you won’t back down without a little extra persuasion!” I gasped for air, tilting my head back to look at the sky, tears tracing paths through the grime on my face. “I… did nothing wrong!” I cried out. “Sarah, please, just let me come up. Don’t you remember? You promised you would never, ever break my heart.” I could feel the silence on the other end of the walkie-talkie, a sudden, tense freeze. But after three seconds, Sarah gave her order. “Do it. Make sure the drop is precise.” Her words had barely faded when a black swarm of drones appeared in the sky. They hovered directly over me, and then the hatches on their undersides opened, releasing a suffocating, kaleidoscopic cloud of fine powder. I threw my arms up to shield my face, but it was useless. The powder was too fine, too pervasive. It wormed its way under my collar and cuffs, coating every inch of my exposed skin. Waves of intense itching began to crawl over my body. I scratched frantically, my nails leaving raw tracks on my skin. A furious red rash bloomed, the hives so dense they merged into a single, horrifying mass. “Sarah…” I choked out, my throat closing up. “I’m so sick… I can’t… I can’t breathe.” I instinctively reached a hand out, a ghost of a memory surfacing—a time when she would have appeared at my side in an instant if I was in any distress. I once coughed while walking past a flower shop, and she bought the entire shop the next day and had it converted into a Lego store, just for me. But the woman who once cherished me, who held me in the palm of her hand, wasn’t coming. My heart turned to ice. Dragging my shattered leg, I grabbed the walkie-talkie and forced myself to my feet, trying to limp my way out of the floral prison. A long time passed before her voice returned. “Finally ready to give in?” she asked. “Apologize to Alex over the radio right now, and I’ll send someone to pick you up.” “Never!” I hissed, but the wind tore the word from my lips, scattering it into nothing. She seemed surprised by my defiance. A long pause, then a single word squeezed through her teeth. “Fine. You want to blow this out of proportion? So be it.” The drones immediately descended again, and the rain of pollen became a relentless downpour. I pulled my shirt over my nose, but my lungs were already screaming in rebellion. Pollen got into my eyes, and my eyelids swelled shut, the pain blinding. Suddenly, I started to laugh—a broken, desolate sound. “Sarah,” I gasped between laughs and coughs. “He got a single hive, and for that, you’re torturing me like this. And you’re telling me I’m the one blowing things out of proportion?” 2 For a fleeting moment, a flicker of guilt crossed Sarah’s face. She quickly suppressed it, her tone hardening into pure scorn. “I’m teaching you how to be a decent human being, a better boss! You’ve become a stranger to me, Leo. Don’t think that just because you’re at the top now, you can forget where you came from. Have you forgotten what it was like to be the one fetching coffee and making copies?” Her voice trembled with righteous anger. “When you used to cry about the pressure, I was the one who held you, who comforted you. I never thought you’d become the very thing you used to hate.” Forget where I came from? Impossible. Her words were like a blade, tearing open old wounds. Right out of college, I started at a tiny firm. I spent my days chasing clients under a scorching sun and my nights rewriting proposals until my hair fell out in clumps. Sarah was my colleague back then. She saw my struggle and would often help with small tasks. Later, when we started our own company, I landed our first major client by letting them pour so much liquor down my throat I ended up in the hospital with a bleeding stomach. When we were on the verge of bankruptcy, I secretly used the dowry money my parents had saved for me to keep the company afloat, telling Sarah it was an early payment from a client so she wouldn’t feel the pressure. The only reason I was so demanding now was because I knew, better than anyone, that we couldn’t afford to fail. And her? She reaped the benefits of my hard work, while my dedication, my sacrifice, was twisted into something ugly she called “authoritarian.” So this was the love I had earned with my blood, sweat, and youth. Fine. Let my heart die completely. Then it can’t hurt anymore. “Leo! Do you have to push people to their breaking point to be satisfied?” she screamed, her voice shaking. “Why do you always have to fixate on one tiny mistake? Why do you always have to make a mountain out of a molehill? Alex is young! It’s normal for him to mess up! Did you have to hold a grudge and secretly retaliate against him?!” I looked from Alex’s smug, triumphant smirk to Sarah’s furious face. Seeing my silence, she mistook it for surrender. Her voice softened slightly. “Leo, we still love each other. I just want you to apologize to Alex. It’s that simple. Your allergic reaction is getting serious. You need a hospital. Please, just be good and listen to me.” I stared up at her and spit on the ground. “In your dreams,” I snarled. Her expression hardened instantly. “It seems the punishment wasn’t severe enough.” She barked an order at one of the security guards with her. “Bring me the package. I’ll teach him a lesson myself.” A cold dread washed over me. This wasn’t over. My eyes fell on the bracelet on my wrist, on the small charm attached to it. An idea sparked. But my fingers hovered over it, hesitating. It’s been so many years. She’s probably forgotten all about me. After I broke things off so decisively, how could I have the nerve to ask her to save me now? For all I know, she hates me. She might even wish I was dead. While I hesitated, the guard returned, carrying a bucket of red powder. I instinctively tried to scramble away. “Scared now?” Sarah mocked, a cruel satisfaction dancing in her eyes. “Weren’t you so defiant just a minute ago? So sure you’d done nothing wrong?” She nodded to the guard. “Pry his mouth open. Let’s see how he likes the taste of chili.” Goosebumps erupted on my skin. Spicy food was my kryptonite. “Let go of me! Sarah, are you insane?!” 3 I thrashed wildly, but the severe allergic reaction had drained all my strength. “You’re going to regret this!” I choked out. “The only one with regrets here will be you, Leo. I swear I will make you break today!” Pure terror seized me. Like a drowning man grabbing for a lifeline, I slammed my thumb down on the button hidden in the charm. The next second, my jaw was forced open, and a torrent of bright red chili powder was poured into my mouth. A strangled gasp was all I could manage. The spice was an explosion of agony. Combined with the allergic reaction, I couldn’t breathe at all. My tongue, my gums, my throat—all on fire. Tears streamed from my eyes. Seeing my torment, Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Are you going to apologize or not?” I was on my knees, coughing so hard it felt like I was trying to turn myself inside out. But I refused to say a word. Her eyes flashed with fury, and she grabbed another handful of the powder. Alex quickly intervened, placing a hand on her arm in a show of gentle restraint. “Sarah, I don’t think he can handle spice. Maybe we should stop.” He paused, then added, “Why don’t we just rub it on his cuts instead? Just a small punishment.” Sarah looked at him, her expression softening into adoration. “You’re too gentle, Alex. You never hold a grudge.” She turned back to me, her face a mask of impatience. “Since Alex is pleading for you, we’ll do it his way!” With that, she viciously smeared the chili powder into the deepest gash on my leg. “Aaaargh!” A scream of pure, unadulterated agony ripped from my throat, echoing across the vast, silent field of flowers. She didn’t stop there. She ground the powder into every single cut, every abrasion on my body. The combination of stinging and burning was like being flayed alive with a blade dipped in acid. My body convulsed, and the world began to fade to black. “Sarah… I think I’m dying…” I finally begged, the words tearing through my raw throat. “Please… let me go.” It was then that Alex tugged on Sarah’s sleeve again. “Sarah, I have some allergy pills here. Maybe if we give them to him, he’ll feel better.” Sarah’s eyes flickered toward my barely conscious form. She snorted. “See how good Alex is to you? Unbelievable. Fine. Give him the pills. I’m not done with him yet.” A guard roughly grabbed my chin and forced a pill into my mouth. A few minutes later, the suffocating tightness in my chest eased slightly. Seeing that I was conscious again, Sarah’s expression grew even colder. “Drag him over here. Make him kneel and apologize to Alex.” The guards hauled me by my arms and dropped me in front of Alex. A heavy hand pushed down on my shoulders while a knee slammed into the back of my legs, trying to force them to buckle. Looking at Alex’s triumphant face, I found a new surge of strength. “Alex! Sarah! I will make you pay for this!” Alex tilted my chin up with his fingers. “Just apologize, Leo. I really hate seeing you like this.” His smile was dazzling, but his fingers were digging into my jaw, the pain sharp and tearing. Just as my vision was blacking out, the roar of engines suddenly split the air. A convoy of black SUVs was speeding toward us, screeching to a halt just a few feet away. The moment I saw the lead license plate, the last thread of tension in my body snapped. She really came. Sarah’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “What the hell is this?”

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I never beat around the bush. When a strange woman’s intimate message appeared on my doctor boyfriend’s phone, I placed it squarely before him and demanded an explanation. After a long silence, Nick confessed: “She was a former patient, a severe case. I admit… I developed… different feelings.” “But Chloe,” he pleaded, “we’ve been through so much since college. I’ll cut her off completely.” Staring into his sincere eyes, I suppressed the sting in my heart and forgave him. The wedding continued as planned. But on our wedding day, a colleague burst in: “Dr. Morrison! Vanessa knows you’re getting married—she’s coding!” My bouquet dropped with a soft thud. Nick bolted out like a gust of wind. I screamed after him, eyes burning: “If you leave today, we’re done. For good!” His steps faltered for just a second—then he was gone, without looking back. He’d broken his promise after all. 1 The wedding hall erupted into chaos. The murmurs of the guests were like a thousand tiny needles pricking my skin. Our parents rushed to my side, their faces etched with confusion. Nick’s assistant, Chris, stood nearby, his face flushed with shame. “Chloe… Vanessa’s… her situation is complicated. The last time she flatlined, Nick was the one who brought her back. She only trusts him. He’s the only one who can calm her down… It’s a matter of life and death. He didn’t have a choice. Please, don’t blame him…” Chris had worked with Nick for two years and had always treated me with respect, calling me Chloe with a familiar warmth. Now, he couldn’t even meet my eyes. I could only wonder how many of Nick’s secrets he had kept, what other connections he had to this woman, Vanessa. A tight, crushing pain spread through my chest. The betrayal was real, and it was absolute. My parents held my hands, frantic. “What on earth is going on? Didn’t he take leave for the wedding? What kind of patient needs to be resuscitated right this second?” Nick’s parents, mortified, were already on the phone. “Chloe, sweetheart, don’t worry, I’m calling that worthless son of mine right now. If he doesn’t come back, I’ll break his legs!” The fallen bouquet was trampled underfoot by the shuffling crowd, its petals crushed and scattered—a perfect reflection of my own shattered heart. I stood frozen, my wedding dress pooling around me like a wilted flower after a storm. The wedding I had dreamed of for years had devolved into this humiliating disaster. The groom had abandoned his bride in the middle of a chapel filled with well-wishes, all for another woman. For four hours, I made seventy-six phone calls. Nick didn’t answer a single one. I watched my phone screen light up and go dark, over and over, until the battery finally died. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting harsh, bright patches on the floor. A beam of light fell on my bare ring finger, and a chill went through me that had nothing to do with the temperature. The guests gradually dispersed, leaving behind a field of deflated balloons and half-eaten meals. Suddenly, the world began to spin. The last thing I heard was my mother’s panicked scream. When I opened my eyes again, the sterile, antiseptic smell of a hospital filled my nostrils. A nurse was taking my blood pressure. “You’re in a delicate condition now,” she said softly. “You can’t afford any more stress. You need to rest.” I stared at the ceiling, silent tears tracing a path into my hair. The memories flooded back—a six-year film reel on fast forward. Me at nineteen, in the university library, when Nick handed me a notebook he’d “found.” The handwritten letters he sent every week when he was doing his residency out of state. The day he became an attending physician, holding my hands and promising, “I save lives for a living, but I will always, always protect you.” I saw the poorly concealed joy on the faces of my parents and Nick’s, and my own tears welled up. How was I supposed to tell them that our six-year love story was over? 2 The third time news came that Vanessa was “critically ill,” I was in the kitchen, brewing a traditional herbal remedy. The clay pot simmered on the stove, the bitter medicinal scent mingling with notes of dried citrus peel—a smell that perfectly captured the taste of my relationship with Nick these days. He burst in, a whirlwind in a white coat, the hem of it catching the edge of a bowl I’d just filled. The dark, murky liquid splattered across the cream-colored tiles, an ugly stain. “Chloe, Vanessa’s crashing again. Her heart rate dropped to forty, the doctors said…” He grabbed my arm, his grip so tight I thought my bones might snap. “I have to go to the hospital. Just for a minute. If she sees me, maybe she’ll stabilize…” I looked at the bloodshot veins in his eyes, at the single long, dark hair clinging to the collar of his coat—a hair that wasn’t mine. And I laughed. “Nick,” I said, pulling my arm free. I knelt, grabbing a rag to wipe the floor, my nails scraping against the grout. “Do you remember what day it is?” He blinked, clearly having no idea. “It’s the day of my follow-up appointment.” My voice was as flat and lifeless as a stagnant pond. “The doctor said my recovery isn’t going well. I have to go today, or I risk a serious infection.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes darted away. “I know, but Vanessa…” “She’s important, and I’m not. Is that it?” I looked up, meeting his gaze, and enunciated every word. “In your eyes, am I just supposed to wait here forever? Wait for you to comfort your patient, wait for you to remember the fiancée you abandoned, wait for you to throw me a scrap of your attention?” “No, it’s not like that!” he stammered, but his phone began to vibrate violently, the screen flashing with the words “ICU.” He glanced at the phone, then back at me. Finally, he grabbed his car keys. “Chloe, I’m begging you. I promise, I’ll go to the hospital with you as soon as I get back. I’ll stay as long as you need…” “Don’t bother.” I stood up and tossed the soiled rag into the trash. “Go, Nick.” He froze, a look of surprise on his face. He probably hadn’t expected me to be so calm. “But there’s something you should know,” I said, walking to the hall closet and zipping my jacket up to my nose. “At my last check-up, the doctor said that from now on… it might be difficult for me to get pregnant again.” The car keys clattered to the floor. “What did you say?” His voice trembled. He lunged forward, trying to hug me. “How? Was it the surgery…?” “Yes,” I said, taking a step back, avoiding his touch. “Or maybe it was when I fainted at the wedding and hit my stomach. Who knows.” I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t cooperate. “But it doesn’t matter. You don’t care anyway, right?” He stood there, his face as white as a sheet, his lips trembling, unable to form a single word. The phone continued its shrill, insistent ringing, a death knell for us. I pulled on my shoes and opened the door. A blast of cold air made me shiver. “Go,” I said, staring at the bleak fluorescent light in the hallway. “Don’t keep your patient waiting.” He didn’t move, his eyes fixed on me as if trying to burn my image into his memory. “Nick,” I said, giving him one last look, “the moment you chose her, you should have known. Once something is broken, it can never be put back together again.” The door clicked shut behind me, cutting off whatever he was about to say, and sealing the end of the six years he had personally destroyed. I walked downstairs. It had started to rain, a fine, cold mist that stung my face. I hadn’t gone far when I heard hurried footsteps behind me. He had followed me out, my medical file clutched in his hand. He must have grabbed it in his panic. “Chloe! I’ll take you to the hospital! Right now!” He tried to grab my arm, the desperation in his eyes spilling over. “I’ll have a colleague watch Vanessa, I’m worried about you…” “Don’t be.” I pulled the file from his grasp. “Dr. Morrison, you should go save your patient. After all, in your heart, her life is so much more important than mine.” I turned and walked into the rain, and I didn’t look back. The footsteps followed for a few paces, then stopped. I knew his phone must have been ringing again. The rain blurred my vision, and with it, the path that had begun in a sunlit library, a path I once believed would last a lifetime. I later heard that he did, in fact, go back to the hospital that day. Vanessa hadn’t been crashing. She had pulled out her own IV line, just to get him there. And while he was there, I was at my own appointment. The anesthetic didn’t take full effect. I felt everything. I bit down on the bedsheet so hard I thought my teeth would break, tears and cold sweat soaking the pillow. The nurses said I never made a sound. They didn’t know that compared to the pain in my heart, the physical agony was a dull ache. My heart had gone numb from the moment he had run to her, again and again and again. 3 At 8 PM, after seven hours of silence, Nick finally showed up at the hospital. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his gaze was heavy with guilt. “Chloe, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Vanessa… I couldn’t just let her die. It’s my duty to save lives.” I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. “There are dozens of other doctors in that hospital. Did it have to be you?” I paused. “Nick, I’m not an idiot.” After a long silence, he took my cold hand in his. “Chloe, in six years, I’ve never asked you for anything. Just this once, I’m begging you. Don’t make a scene. Don’t do anything that could negatively affect Vanessa. Her condition… she can’t handle that kind of stress.” I looked at the earnest plea in his eyes, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I couldn’t breathe. He shouldn’t be begging me for this. He should be apologizing to me. A person’s first instinct doesn’t lie. He never once thought about how humiliated I was at the wedding. He never worried about why I ended up in the hospital. His first words, his only thoughts, were of Vanessa. Tears fell like broken pearls onto the white duvet, spreading into dark, wet spots. It took all my strength to force out a single word. “Fine.” He visibly relaxed. “Vanessa knows I was getting married, and she’s emotionally unstable. Let’s postpone the wedding for now.” His voice was cautious, testing the waters. “I’ll stay with her through her treatment. Once she’s a little more stable… maybe two months. Just two months. Then we’ll have our wedding. Okay?” I had waited six years. What was another two months? But as I saw the worry for another woman in his eyes, I suddenly felt that I couldn’t wait another two seconds. The little life inside me seemed to sense my despair and gave a faint flutter. I placed a hand on my stomach, on the five-week-old secret that was ours, but now felt like only mine. I slowly pulled my hand away, my voice as still as a deep, dark lake. “Nick.” “My memory isn’t perfect, but I remember being nineteen, in the library, when you handed me that notebook, so nervous you could barely speak.” “I remember our first date, how your palms were so sweaty you could hardly hold your chopsticks.” “I remember graduation day, you held me and promised to give me the best life, to make me the happiest bride in the world.” “All these years, you remembered I don’t eat cilantro, you remembered I have a sensitive stomach and need warm soup, you remembered all my little quirks… I always thought you cherished me, that you held me in the very center of your heart.” I looked up at him, and the dam finally broke. “But today, Nick… today I can’t feel your love at all.” Six years of memories swirled between us. Nick’s eyes reddened, and a single tear traced a path down his cheek. “But Chloe,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “Vanessa needs me right now.” She needs me. Those three words shattered the last vestiges of hope I had. I looked at him and, through my tears, I smiled. “Then go to her.” He stared, clearly not expecting that. But he didn’t argue. He just turned and left the room. The next day, as I was packing my things to leave, I ran into Nick in the hallway. He didn’t see me. His entire world was focused on the girl beside him. She wore a hospital gown, her face pale, and he was half-supporting, half-cradling her, as if she were a frightened little bird. So this was the woman who had made him abandon me at the altar.

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I sold my soul for $20,000 a month, and I’d do it again. The job posting was a godsend for a broke graduate like me. But when the signing bonus hit my account, the job posting vanished. The front door was locked from the outside. And my new boss? He’s not human, he lives in the shadows of my room, and he just informed me that the contract is for eternity.

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“My wife, the movie star, got caught by the paparazzi in a hotel room with her high school sweetheart. She called me to fix it. So I put on the same Tom Ford suit to create a diversion, and in the process, I was cornered in an alley by her most extreme fans and beaten to death. When my mother finally found me, I was slick with blood, my heart a dead, silent thing in my chest. She collapsed, sobbing, her knees hitting the grimy pavement as she frantically called my wife, dozens of times, begging for help. All she got in return was a voice crackling with rage. “You couldn’t even handle the paparazzi? You’re pathetic! Why don’t you just go die?” But… I already had. 1. My soul didn’t scatter after I died. It lingered, a ghost tethered to the world of the living. I watched my mom, her body stooped with a fatigue that went bone-deep, handle the arrangements for my funeral. It was well past midnight by the time she was done. She sat slumped in her wheelchair, her fingers tracing the smooth, cold ceramic of my urn. The tears she’d held back finally broke free, a string of pearls snapping, scattering grief across her worn face. “Oh, Ethan, my sweet boy.” “Why did you have to go before me? A mother isn’t supposed to live without her son.” Her voice was a raw, shredded thing. Her eyes were swollen and bruised from crying. There is no pain in this world like a parent burying their child. Seeing the silver in her hair bloom overnight, conquering the last of the black, it broke what was left of my heart. I regretted it all. I knelt beside her, my ghostly form a useless comfort, whispering her name over and over. “Mom.” But I was dead. She couldn’t hear a thing. Tears of regret I could no longer physically shed burned in my soul, dissolving into a faint white mist that vanished as quickly as it formed. I pressed my forehead to the floorboards before her. Mom, I’m so sorry. Your son failed you. “Ethan!” It was as if she felt me, a sudden chill in the room. She started to turn her head, but at that exact moment— BANG! The front door slammed open, kicked in with such force that my mother flinched violently. Framed in the doorway were two unwelcome guests: my wife, Ava Sterling, and her first love, Caleb. Ava’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows were knotted in fury, her voice a low burn of unrestrained anger. “Ethan! I told you to lead the press away, and you couldn’t even manage that! I could’ve hired a trained monkey and gotten better results!” Her eyes scanned the small apartment, finding it empty of me. The frustration morphed into something uglier, more volatile. “Because of your incompetence, Caleb’s face is plastered all over TMZ!” With a guttural scream of rage, she kicked over a box of my belongings—things my mother had painstakingly gathered and organized. Then, she strode toward my mom. “You, old woman! Where is he? Tell him to get his ass out here right now!” I balled my fists, a pointless gesture. There was no strength, no substance, just a cold, impotent rage. “My Ethan…” Mom’s voice was a whisper, her hand caressing my urn as if it were my cheek. She didn’t look up, her whole being seemed to have been hollowed out. “…he’s gone.” She had been crying for a day and a night straight. Her voice was sandpaper, each word a struggle. But when she spoke my name, it was still so gentle. Just like when I was a kid, coming home from school, and she’d be standing on the porch, waving, calling out to me. “Gone?” Caleb blinked, then shot a look at Ava, a small, exasperated smile playing on his lips. “Come on, Ava. Let’s just go. If Ethan doesn’t want to come out and fix this, I’ll handle the PR myself.” Seeing Caleb’s look of magnanimous resignation sent Ava’s fury into overdrive. “No!” Her gaze fell on my mother, cold and sharp. “You listen to me, you old hag,” she snarled. “I don’t care where Ethan is. You get him on the phone and tell him to get back here right now. He is going to get on his knees and apologize to Caleb.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss. “You clearly failed at raising a decent son, so I’ll teach him a lesson myself.” “Or else, I’ll make sure your whole family pays the price!” That’s enough, Ava! I’d been your workhorse, your secret, your shadow, all to support your career, to make sure you shone on screen. I swallowed the hidden marriage, the constant humiliations. But I’m dead. I just died. How can you come here and threaten my mother? How can you unleash this poison on her? I clenched my fists so hard I thought my spectral form might tear apart, but it did nothing to stop Ava’s tirade. “Well? Speak up! Where is he?” Ava grabbed the front of my mother’s worn blouse, her face a mask of savage rage, her eyes boring into my mom’s. My mother, my strong, unbreakable mother, trembled. Her fingers clutched at the fabric over her heart. But the pain of losing a child had forged a new kind of strength in her. Her gentle eyes hardened, and she stared right back at Ava, each word landing like a stone. “I said… my son is dead.” Ava froze, her face a canvas of shock. For a single, suspended moment, even her breathing stopped. But then Caleb’s smooth voice sliced through the silence, pulling her back. “Ma’am, I understand you’re upset, but you can’t just curse your own son to death to avoid taking responsibility.” He shook his head, a performance of profound disappointment. “Ava is Ethan’s wife. Couples fight. For you to get in the middle of it at your age, to stir up trouble… it’s no wonder Ava has had to carry this family on her back.” My teeth ground together at his sanctimonious act. And, like always, Ava bought it completely. Her expression hardened. Her eyes swept over my mother, from her white hair down to the wheels of her chair. A cold dread washed over me. Ava, no! I screamed. She didn’t hear me. She took a step forward and slapped my mother across the face. The sound was like a gunshot in the silent room. Before I could even process it, she drew her leg back and kicked the wheelchair with all her might. “Mom!” I screamed, a silent, agonizing roar, as I watched my mother tumble from the chair, her head cracking against the sharp corner of the coffee table. “Ava! Stop it! She’s not lying! I’m really dead! You killed me!” I roared at her, my voice lost to the space between worlds. This monster couldn’t hear me. “Mom! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” I knelt on the floor, watching the woman who had once seemed so strong, so capable of carrying the world—the woman who had carried me—now lying broken on the floor, so easily toppled. “Ava! What more do you want?” As I tried again and again, in vain, to help my mother up, I saw Ava stalking toward her. Ignoring my desperate, unheard screams, she bent down, wrapped her hands around my mother’s throat, and hauled her up. “AVA!” Blood trickled from the gash on my mother’s forehead, dripping onto Ava’s hands, onto the bulging veins of her knuckles as she squeezed. Her next words were delivered with chilling precision. “Call him. If he’s not here in three minutes…” She slammed my mother back against the floor. Ava’s eyes were blazing. “…I’ll let him see your ashes instead, you old bitch!””

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The takedown went sideways. My dad, Deputy Chief Miller, was taken hostage shielding a civilian. Then the feed went live, broadcast by the scumbag who had a knife to his throat. “You’ve got ten minutes,” the man snarled into the camera. “Let me walk, or he’s dead.” My hands shook as I frantically dialed Cole’s number. He was my father’s protégé, the detective my dad had personally trained. He was also the only person I knew who could get to that warehouse in time. The phone picked up. “Cole,” I choked out, my voice a raw whisper. “The address I just sent you—you have to go. Now! You’re the only one who can save my dad.” He cut me off with a light, condescending laugh. “Phoebe, is this another attempt to get my attention? Does this jealousy thing ever get old?” A cat meowed in the background, followed by a woman’s playful, syrupy voice. “Bro, that’s way too much soap!” “I just talked to your dad yesterday,” Cole said, his voice softening for her, not for me. “He put in his retirement papers. What kind of danger could he possibly be in? Just be good, okay? Don’t make things difficult.” He hung up before I could scream. Thirty seconds left on the kidnapper’s countdown. I called Cole again and again, my desperation clawing at my throat. Each call went straight to voicemail. He’d blocked me. At the same moment, an Instagram story popped up on my feed. It was from Jenna, his “best friend.” [Image: Cole and Jenna, heads close together, laughing as they lather a fluffy white cat in a sink. The lighting is warm, intimate.] Caption: My dad just has to say the word, and my bestie drops everything to come give my baby a bath. The brotherhood is real, people. The corners of his eyes crinkled with a joy I hadn’t seen directed at me in months. He was glowing with a sweetness that felt like a physical blow. On the livestream, the knife dragged across my father’s throat. His eyes, wide with shock, found the camera for a split second before he collapsed. My phone slipped from my numb fingers. My heart, in that precise moment, stopped beating and turned to stone. 1 The department brought my father’s body home. At the funeral, one of his oldest friends, a captain from the narcotics division, pulled me into a hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Phoebe. Your father cracked more major cases than anyone in the history of this precinct. He died a hero, saving a civilian. He’s the pride of the department.” He choked up then, his eyes filled with a pity that went beyond grief. I knew what he was thinking. Everyone in the department knew my fiancé had ignored a hostage situation involving his own mentor to stay home with his “best friend.” I stood before the polished headstone, dry-eyed, clutching the detective’s shield my father had been awarded years ago. Its sharp edges dug into my palm, the pain a welcome anchor, a reminder to stay upright. My phone buzzed. A text message. My condolences, Phoebe. I’ve been briefed on what happened. I will make sure you get justice. It was from Captain Evans, my father’s successor and a man I trusted implicitly. I scrolled through my phone. Not a single call, not a single text from Cole. Steeling myself, I dialed his number. I just wanted him to be here. To say one last goodbye to the man who had treated him like a son. Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing. My dad had poured everything into Cole, personally mentoring him, fast-tracking his promotion to Detective. He had been a good student. He had been a good fiancé. Until Jenna came back to the States. Then came the missed dates. He wasn’t there for my birthday. He wasn’t there when I had the miscarriage. He wasn’t there when my father was dying. And now, at his funeral, he was still gone. Hours later, after the last of the mourners had left and I was alone in the rain, his text finally came through. Phoebe, you need to be more understanding. Stop with the drama. It’s exhausting. Jenna is my friend. You have no right to be jealous of her. A second text followed. I took a couple days off to go hiking with Jenna, clear her head. The signal is bad up here. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency. Those two messages shattered the last, fragile piece of hope I had for him. For us. I tilted my head back, letting the cold rain wash over my face, mixing with the tears I could no longer hold back. The sting was sharp, real. Then, with a decisiveness that felt foreign and terrifying, I blocked Cole’s number, his social media, every possible avenue of contact. Don’t worry, I thought. I’ll never bother you again. Back at the apartment, I locked myself in my room and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. He answered immediately. He didn’t speak, but I could hear the steady, calm rhythm of his breathing. I took a shaky breath. “It’s Phoebe Miller.” His voice was a low baritone, steady and reassuring. “I know. I’m here.” “I want to inherit my father’s badge number,” I said, the words coming out in a rush. “I want to finish what he started. I need you to approve my request to go undercover.” Silence. I could picture Captain Evans on the other end, his brow furrowed with concern. “That crew works for the Kael Syndicate,” he said finally. “Your father, a deputy chief, couldn’t get out alive. I can’t let you walk into that kind of danger. Besides…” “I already passed the internal evaluation,” I cut in, my voice sharp with urgency. “I’m the top candidate for this operation. You know my mother died when I was young; my dad raised me by himself. He’s all I had. I can’t let the men who did this to him walk free. I won’t.” A heavy sigh came through the line. “Does Cole know about this?” “No,” I said, the word like ice. “And he doesn’t need to.” “Alright,” he conceded. “Send me the report. I’ll make the arrangements. The operation begins in two days. That gives you time to get your personal affairs in order.” He paused for a beat. “Come back safe, Phoebe. For your dad. And for… for the people who truly care about you.” “I will.” After hanging up, I started packing. I decided to sell everything I owned, including all the gifts Cole had ever given me. While clearing my desk, I found a framed photo of us. We were at the beach, the sun bright in our eyes. He was hugging me from behind, his chin resting on the top of my head. We looked so happy. The sight of it was nauseating. I pulled the photo from its frame, tore it precisely down the middle, and dropped his smiling face into the trash. Just then, I heard a key in the lock. The front door swung open and Cole walked in, his arm around Jenna. She was practically draped over him, her chest pressed intimately against his bicep. Her eyes immediately landed on the baby grand piano in the corner—my father’s piano. Her face lit up. “Bro, there it is!” she squealed. “I played it last time I was here, remember? The acoustics are amazing, and it looks so good in photos! You promised you’d give it to me. No take-backs!” Cole’s smile faltered when he saw me standing in the middle of the living room. “Phoebe. You’re here. Good,” he said, forcing a casual tone. “Jenna loves this piano. I’m going to have it moved to her place. You haven’t played in years, anyway. It’s just collecting dust.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My father had spent his entire savings on that piano for me. And he was just… giving it away? Without even asking? “What did you just say? That was a gift from my father. It’s mine. Don’t you dare touch it.” Jenna let out a little “oops,” her eyes darting to the trash can. She leaned over, delicately plucked the torn half of the photo between two fingers, and dangled it in front of Cole. “Looks like we really pissed off the dragon lady, bro,” she said with a smirk. “She’s already tearing up pictures of you. We better get this piano out of here before she takes a sledgehammer to it.” Cole’s face darkened. “Phoebe, have you had enough? First, you lie about your dad being in trouble, and now this? How childish can you be?” He took a step forward, his voice dropping to a low, threatening tone. “This piano is leaving today, whether you like it or not. It’s not like you can play it anymore with that useless hand of yours.” The words struck me like a slap. “You forgot how my hand got this way, Cole?” I shot back, my voice trembling with rage. “I took a knife for you. The tendons were severed. Do you not remember that?” Jenna clicked her tongue, putting on a show of magnanimity. “Come on, Phoebe, that’s not fair. My bro remembers your sacrifice, he appreciates it. But he’s right, you can’t use the piano now. And what’s his is mine. It’s only natural that he’d give it to me. We’ve known each other forever. We don’t keep secrets, or possessions, from each other.” Cole looked at Jenna with sickening fondness. “Exactly. It’s just a piano. My best friend wants it. Can’t you just be generous for once? Instead of tearing up photos and throwing a tantrum?” I laughed, a sharp, broken sound. “My father is dead, Cole!” I screamed. “You think this is a tantrum? He was held hostage by armed criminals, and you were closer than anyone. The entire department knows you were the only one who could have saved him! And what were you doing?” I pointed a shaking finger at Jenna, who was smirking triumphantly. “You were washing her cat!” “He adored you! He was your mentor! Why didn’t you save him? You didn’t even show up for his funeral!” “That’s enough!” Cole roared, his voice cracking like a whip. “Are you still keeping up this act? Constantly talking about your dad being dead, cursing your own father… I never knew you were this twisted.” Jenna’s tone was pure innocence, but her eyes danced with malice. “You’re still holding a grudge over that? All he did was wash my cat. It wasn’t a big deal. We’re best friends, Phoebe. We don’t have all those complicated rules you seem to live by.” She ran a possessive hand over the piano’s glossy lid. “I really do love it, Cole.” He grinned, a flash of the old charm, and gave her a quick, playful slap on the ass. “Of course. We’re ride or die. I’d pull the moon down from the sky for you.” His gaze shifted back to me, his expression turning to ice. “The piano is moving today. And from this moment on, you are not to touch it.” He pulled out his phone and started dialing a moving company, right in front of me. Something inside me snapped. I grabbed the nearest thing—a heavy wooden jewelry box—and hurled it at them. It caught Jenna on the side of the head. Cole exploded. He lunged forward and slapped me, hard, across the face. The force of the blow sent me stumbling back into the piano bench. I put my hand out to catch myself, and a sickening crack echoed from my injured wrist. Pain, white-hot and blinding, shot up my arm. Tears welled in my eyes. For a second, Cole froze, a flicker of shock on his face. He reached out to help me up. I recoiled as if he were toxic. “Don’t touch me,” I spat. “You’re filthy.” He snatched his hand back, his face a mask of fury. “Fine. Have it your way. You care so much about this thing? I’ll have it chopped up for firewood.” Jenna dabbed at a tiny scratch on her forehead, her expression aggrieved but her voice triumphant. “Look, Phoebe, you’ve drawn blood. You can’t just assault me and get away with it. How about this? As compensation, you give me the piano, and I’ll convince my bro not to press charges.” “Get out,” I seethed. “Both of you, get out!” A surge of adrenaline drowned out the pain. I grabbed the piano bench and heaved it toward them. It crashed to the floor with a deafening bang. Jenna shrieked and hid behind Cole. I stood in front of the piano, my eyes blazing. “Anyone who touches this piano,” I snarled, “will have to go through me.” “You’ve lost your damn mind, Phoebe!” Cole was livid. He shoved me aside with brutal force. I crumpled to the floor. He loomed over me, his eyes filled with pure disgust. “Look at you. This pathetic, crazy act. No wonder your own father couldn’t stand you. If he really is dead, you probably drove him to it. You deserve this.” He still had the audacity to mention my father. With every ounce of strength I had, I launched myself up and slapped him across the face. The impact sent a shockwave through my already broken wrist. “Shut up!” I screamed. “You don’t have the right to even say his name!” His head snapped to the side. His eyes were wide with disbelief. Jenna gasped dramatically. “Phoebe, how could you hit him? I would never even dream of hurting a single hair on his head!” Just then, the doorbell rang. The movers had arrived. Cole’s face was tight with suppressed rage. “That’s the one,” he said, pointing at the piano. “Take it.” “No!” The movers hesitated, looking from my desperate face to Cole’s furious one. “Sir, the lady doesn’t seem to agree…” Cole scoffed and pulled a thick wad of cash from his wallet. “Triple the rate,” he snapped. “You don’t have to listen to a crazy person.” Jenna chimed in, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Gentlemen, please don’t mind her. She’s my friend’s girlfriend. She’s got… you know…” She tapped her temple with a single finger, a universally understood gesture for she’s not well. “Right,” the lead mover said, casting a pitiful glance my way before nodding to his crew. “Let’s get to work.” “No! You can’t!” I tried to block their path, but Cole grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. His grip was like steel, but his voice was a mockery of gentleness. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. Your doctor said this piano is a trigger for you. We’re just moving it for your own good.” They lifted my father’s piano and carried it out the door. I watched it disappear down the hallway until it was gone. Cole released me. His eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. I was numb, hollowed out by despair. I looked at him, my own eyes burning. “Cole,” I whispered, the words tearing from my raw throat. “We’re done.” He didn’t even turn around as he slung his arm around Jenna’s shoulders. “Fine with me,” he called back. “Don’t come crying to me when you regret it.”

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