Category: English

1 After a bad car crash, my hearing mutated and became unnaturally sharp. I gained the strange ability to detect tiny changes in a heartbeat’s rhythm, letting me tell if couples truly loved each other. The day my best friend Piper went into remission, her boyfriend cried and dropped to one knee to propose. I heard the deep, unmistakable shift in his heartbeat. When my brother’s wife survived a terrifying plane emergency, he broke down at the airport. I heard the same change in his rhythm. I thought my boyfriend Julian would be the same. But his heartbeat stayed flat, without a single ripple of passion. When he confessed, eyes full of affection, his heart did not change. When he proposed, vowing eternal love, it stayed steady. Even after three years of marriage, it never skipped once for me. Everyone insisted he adored me, so I told myself he was just different. Until I was in another crash. Bleeding heavily, I was rushed to the ER where Julian worked. He burst through the doors in a panic, but ran straight past me to his ex-girlfriend, also caught in the pileup. At that moment, I finally heard it. His heartbeat roared like a violent, raging ocean. “Miss Carmella?” A blinding surgical light was suddenly directed into my pupils. I forced my eyes to focus, looking at the trauma nurse who was meticulously cleaning the laceration on my forehead. “Miss Carmella, can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” The nurse held her hand in front of my face. I mumbled a random number in a total daze. In my ears, I could still hear the violent, thundering rhythm of Julian’s heartbeat echoing down the corridor. We dated for three years, and we had been married for three years. I had tested my ability on Julian countless times. When we were dating, wrapped in passionate embraces, exchanging breaths in the dark, I would press my ear to his chest and listen intently. Zero variation. On our wedding day, as he slid the diamond band onto my ring finger, I held my breath, praying to finally hear that magical shift in his cardiac rhythm. But it remained perfectly steady, entirely unmoved. Piper always consoled me, insisting that Julian was simply the exception to my strange neurological rule. After all, whenever I fell ill, he was always the first one by my side. He would drive across the entire city in rush hour traffic just to wait in line for a specific pastry I casually mentioned craving. He had lowered his personal boundaries and compromised his own rigid schedules for me, time and time again. I genuinely believed he loved me. But right now, pressing a gauze pad against my bleeding forehead, I slowly walked down the ER corridor toward him. At a distance of twenty feet, I heard it again. Julian’s heartbeat, surging with overwhelming, chaotic emotion. “Julian, I am perfectly fine! I do not need your help!” “Lydia, stop being so damn stubborn!” “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is with your congenital heart defect?! After all these years, why do you still treat your own life like a joke?!” In the middle of the chaotic, crowded emergency room, the two of them seemed enclosed in an invisible, impenetrable bubble. Watching their desperate, intense interaction, I suddenly realized how incredibly foreign this version of Julian felt. In front of me—in front of the entire world—he was always the perfectly composed, gentle, emotionally regulated gentleman. But in this exact moment, he was aggressively alive. Raw. Unfiltered. A sharp, throbbing spike of pain radiated from my bruised skull. My fingernails dug brutally into my palms as I took two more steps closer. Julian’s heartbeat was still crashing like a tidal wave. “Julian, I said leave me alone! I am getting married next month!” The second Lydia’s words hit the air, I heard it. Julian’s heartbeat violently seized, pausing for several terrifying seconds. And then, it erupted into an absolute frenzy, beating faster and harder than before. The sterile bandages the nurse had applied to my forehead were suddenly soaked through with fresh blood. Bright crimson drops fell onto the pristine white hospital tiles. I stumbled forward, stopping right behind Julian’s broad shoulders. “Julian… I feel really sick…” Relying on years of intimate muscle memory, I reached out and gently gripped his forearm. Lydia suddenly snapped her head up, her eyes locking onto my face. All the color instantly drained from her cheeks. She shot up from the examination bed and sprinted wildly toward the exit. Without a single microsecond of hesitation, Julian tore his arm out of my grip and chased after her. The violent force of him pulling away sent me crashing hard onto the linoleum floor. I sat there in the middle of the ER, utterly humiliated, my brain completely short-circuiting. Surrounded by rushing doctors and staring patients, I instinctively pulled out my phone and dialed Piper’s number. “Piper… I finally heard Julian’s heartbeat change. It was so incredibly loud…” “Really?! See? I told you there was no way Julian didn’t love you!” “You’ve just been overthinking everything all these years.” Piper’s voice crackled through the speaker, brimming with genuine excitement. Another violent spike of pain hammered through my skull. The agony was so intense I briefly convinced myself the turbulent heartbeat I just heard was just a trauma-induced hallucination. But a second later, Julian burst back through the emergency doors, his face pale with absolute terror, carrying Lydia’s unconscious body in his arms. That violent, thundering heartbeat returned, echoing directly into my eardrums. This time, Julian actually noticed me sitting on the floor. “Carmella? What are you doing here?” I looked up at him from the cold tiles, listening intently to the rhythm in his chest. Tears immediately flooded my eyes, spilling uncontrollably down my cheeks. My hearing wasn’t broken. My ability wasn’t flawed. Because the exact second Julian looked at me? His heartbeat instantly leveled out, returning to its perfectly flat, emotionless rhythm. “Carmella, are you alright?” “I need to get Lydia into a trauma bay for an emergency scan.” Without waiting for a single word of confirmation from me, Julian turned his back and disappeared down the corridor with his ex-girlfriend in his arms. I sat on the floor for several long seconds before finally using the wall to drag myself upright. “Piper… Julian’s heartbeat is incredibly loud.” “But it wasn’t beating for me…” Tears streamed down my bruised face. I ended the call and turned to leave the hospital. A nurse suddenly sprinted down the hall, grabbing my arm to stop me. “Miss Carmella! Were you aware that you are pregnant?!” “You are exactly eight weeks along!” I stared at the blood-test results in the nurse’s hand, entirely paralyzed. For the past three years, Julian’s mother had relentlessly pressured us to have children. Every single time, Julian had expertly deflected her demands with various logical excuses. Once, he had even slammed his silverware onto the dining table, his face entirely cold. “If anyone brings up pregnancy one more time, I will schedule a vasectomy tomorrow morning!” I had always interpreted his aggressive defense as him fiercely respecting my bodily autonomy. But right now? I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Clutching the pregnancy report, I took a taxi back to our empty house. Julian never came home that night. It wasn’t until the following morning that I finally heard the front door unlock. Julian walked in, looking completely exhausted, carrying a massive stack of thick medical files. From across the room, I caught a glimpse of the patient’s name printed on the tabs: Lydia Thorne. The dates printed on the files went all the way back eight years. A sharp, physical pain pierced directly through my chest. I forced a tight, artificial smile onto my face and walked over, pulling the pregnancy report from my pocket. “Julian, I’m pregnant.” The living room plunged into a suffocating, terrifying silence. Julian’s heartbeat didn’t flutter. It didn’t skip. It remained entirely, ruthlessly flat. The forced smile on my face slowly died. Tears welled up, spilling over my lashes against my will. “Julian, I said I am pregnant.” I repeated the words, desperate for any reaction. Julian finally deployed his trademark, gentle smile. He reached out and softly stroked my hair. “You’ve been through a lot, Carmella.” “But… we cannot keep this child right now.” After delivering the sentence, Julian carefully carried Lydia’s massive medical history into his private study. He re-emerged holding a fully stocked first-aid kit. “Carmella, I was in the wrong last night.” “But Lydia has a severe congenital heart defect. I was terrified that if I hesitated for a single second, she would drop dead.” “I pulled your charts in the ER. You only sustained a mild concussion and superficial lacerations.” Speaking in his perpetually calm, composed tone, Julian guided me to the sofa and gently pushed me down to sit. He opened the medical kit, snapped on sterile latex gloves, and began meticulously cleaning and dressing my wounds. “Carmella, the timing for a child is completely wrong.” “Over the next three years, I will likely be traveling overseas constantly for advanced surgical fellowships.” “Raising a child entirely on your own will be far too exhausting for you.” He spoke in low, soothing tones, yet his eyes repeatedly darted to the expensive watch on his wrist. Even the way he applied the antiseptic swab felt unusually rushed and impatient. I kept my head bowed. Fat, heavy tears began falling from my chin, landing directly onto my lap. “But I want to keep this baby.” I swallowed the massive lump of acid burning my throat, my voice coming out thick and muffled. Julian’s gloved hands stopped moving. He set the surgical tweezers down on the glass table. When he spoke again, the gentle warmth had completely vanished, replaced by clinical frost. “Carmella, this is not the time for irrational emotional outbursts.” “Raising a child while your husband is overseas is functionally identical to being a single mother. You, out of everyone, should know exactly how miserable that existence is.” “Isn’t that the exact reason your mother committed suicide when you were twelve…” Julian’s words abruptly cut off. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a heavy sigh of frustration, and quickly pivoted to an apology. “I apologize, Carmella. That was entirely out of line.” “If you absolutely insist on going through with this pregnancy, we can hire a full-time live-in nanny.” The living room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Suddenly, Julian’s smartphone vibrated on the coffee table. He snatched the device with lightning speed, stood up, and immediately walked out onto the balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind him. Separated by the heavy double-paned glass, I couldn’t hear a single word he was saying. But I heard it. The exact second he saw the caller ID flash on his screen, his heartbeat erupted into absolute, violent chaos. I raised my hand, wiped the tears off my bruised face, and opened my phone to schedule an abortion at a private clinic. Julian was absolutely right. Being a single mother was a miserable existence. I refused to repeat my mother’s tragic history, and I refused to let myself rot inside a loveless, hollow marriage. So, I didn’t want the baby anymore. And I didn’t want him anymore, either. When Julian finally slid the balcony door open and stepped back inside, I was already standing in the entryway, fully dressed in my winter coat. “Carmella, that was Lydia calling.” Julian’s expression was an absolute masterclass in transparency. He didn’t attempt to hide a single detail. “She is throwing a tantrum and demanding to be discharged against medical advice. Her cardiac arrhythmia is currently in a highly critical state.” “We share a significant history. Morally and ethically, as a physician, I cannot simply abandon her to die.” Julian always operated with this exact brand of unapologetic transparency. When we first started dating, he freely disclosed that he had been in a committed one-year relationship with Lydia. Back then, I had looked him in the eye and asked a direct question. “Julian, are you still in love with Lydia?” His expression had been perfectly stoic, entirely unreadable. “I am no longer in love with her.” I had believed every word he said. But human mouths can easily fabricate lies. The human heart cannot. I forced a polite smile to my lips, entirely dropping the subject of Lydia. Instead, I held up my phone, displaying the confirmed clinic appointment on the screen. “Julian, I made my decision. I am not keeping the baby.” Julian froze entirely. He clearly hadn’t anticipated me folding so quickly. “Carmella, you…” “I thought about what you said. Our current lifestyle and your career trajectory really aren’t suited for a child right now.” I cut off his hesitation, pushing the front door open and stepping out into the hallway. “Let’s go, Julian. Drive me to the clinic for the procedure.” The drive to the surgical center was dead silent. Neither of us spoke a single word. The suffocating quiet inside the cabin made me notice something I had previously ignored. Julian always kept a thick binder of the latest global cardiovascular research scattered across his passenger seat. The specific journal currently sitting next to the gear shift was stamped with the insignia of the most elite medical research institute in the United States. It was a cutting-edge study published barely a week ago, not even fully released to the global medical community yet. But Julian had already acquired a physical copy. Years ago, when my grandmother was dying of an undiagnosed, rapid-onset renal failure, I had dropped to my knees and begged Julian for help. I begged him to contact his former medical mentor in the United States, just to have the elite institute review her biopsy slides for a possible diagnosis. He had frowned, adopting a posture of strict, uncompromising professional ethics, and rejected my plea entirely. “Carmella, I would do almost anything for you.” “But Dr. Mitchell is ninety-three years old. He retired from the institute a decade ago. It is wildly inappropriate for us to disturb his peace with a hopeless case.” My grandmother ultimately died in hospice care, exactly one day before our wedding. She died without ever seeing me walk down the aisle in my wedding dress. A massive surge of bitter acid flooded my throat. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop the tears. A second later, Julian’s phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth system. Once again, I heard his heartbeat explode into a frantic, chaotic rhythm. “Lydia! Listen to me very carefully, do not even think about sneaking out of that ward!” “What the hell do you mean you’re getting married so we need to maintain boundaries?!” “Lydia, tell me exactly where you are right now!” The temperature inside the car plummeted as Julian’s voice grew increasingly frantic and aggressive. Through the chaotic shouting over the speaker, I clearly heard the words: North River Bridge. I looked up through the windshield. The traffic light at the upcoming intersection was glowing red, counting down from ten seconds. Taking a right turn led directly to the abortion clinic. Going straight led directly to the North River Bridge. I broke the silence, interrupting his frantic phone call. “Julian, you need to turn right here for the clinic.” After issuing the simple reminder, I fell completely silent, staring at the digital countdown on the traffic signal. Ten, nine… three, two, one. The light flashed green. Julian slammed his foot on the accelerator and drove the SUV straight ahead, rocketing toward the North River Bridge. A broken, hysterical laugh slipped past my lips, and the tears I had been fighting finally broke free, streaming down my face. I pulled out my phone, slowly typing a message to Piper. [Piper, I want a divorce.] [Can you draft a separation agreement for me?] Throughout the entire drive to the bridge, Julian never once disconnected the call. I sat in the passenger seat, listening to him patiently, desperately coaxing Lydia off the ledge. I listened to him slowly recount the intimate, hyper-specific details of their past romance, using their shared memories as a psychological tether to keep her alive. A drive that should have taken twenty minutes in city traffic took him exactly ten. He slammed the SUV into park and frantically reached for the door handle. I reached out and grabbed the cuff of his dress shirt, my voice incredibly soft. “Julian. Do you love me?” Julian’s brow furrowed, a flash of intense irritation crossing his face. “Carmella, this is not the time to throw a jealous tantrum!” “Lydia is literally threatening to jump into a freezing river!” I kept my eyes locked onto his, completely ignoring his anger, and repeated the question. “Julian. Have you ever loved me?” I held my breath, listening with absolute desperation to the rhythm inside his chest. Flat. Steady. Entirely undisturbed. Exactly the same as it had been for every single day of the past six years. My fingers slowly relaxed, releasing the crisp cotton fabric of his sleeve. I forced a hollow smile to my lips and asked my final question. “Julian. Do you love Lydia?” The violent, deafening roar of his heartbeat nearly drowned out the sounds of the highway traffic outside. I completely let go of his arm. “Go.” “Lydia is about to jump off a bridge, and she has a severe heart condition. She is in extreme danger.” Julian’s scowl deepened. He opened his mouth, clearly intending to lecture me further. Suddenly, chaotic shouting erupted from the pedestrian walkway outside the car. “Call 911! Call 911!” “Someone is climbing over the railing!” Julian violently shoved his door open and sprinted out into the freezing wind without a single backward glance. I sat in the heated cabin, watching his retreating silhouette for exactly sixty seconds. Then, I opened my door and stepped out onto the highway shoulder. I raised my hand, flagged down a passing city taxi, and climbed into the back seat without a second of hesitation. “Driver, take me to the Provincial General Hospital.” The cab driver pulled his eyes away from the dramatic scene unfolding on the bridge, a thick local accent slipping out as he spoke. “Damn, looks like another messy love triangle!” “Gotta say though, that guy in the coat is pretty damn heroic. He just sprinted up there and dragged that girl right off the ledge!” “They’re practically eating each other’s faces right now!” The driver shifted into gear and merged back into traffic. The North River Bridge slowly disappeared in the rearview mirror. My phone vibrated. Piper had just sent over the finalized PDF of the divorce agreement. I forwarded the document directly to Julian’s email, powered down my phone, and closed my eyes. … After Julian physically dragged Lydia off the concrete barrier, he carried her weeping body all the way back to his SUV. “Carmella, I am taking you to the clinic right now—” The words died instantly in his throat. The passenger seat was entirely empty. Assuming I was simply throwing a petty tantrum and had taken a cab to the clinic by myself, Julian froze for a fraction of a second before completely dismissing my absence. He leaned over to buckle Lydia’s seatbelt and reached to start the ignition. His phone screen lit up with a notification from me. He immediately tapped the banner, expecting an angry text. Instead, the screen loaded a formal, legally binding Divorce Agreement PDF. His foot instinctively slammed down on the brake pedal. Julian’s face darkened in sheer irritation. Once the initial shock passed, he slammed the accelerator, speeding aggressively toward the Provincial Hospital to confront me. But two blocks away from the hospital intersection, his SUV was aggressively flagged down by a frantic traffic officer. The officer sprinted up and banged heavily on the driver’s side window. “Massive multi-car pileup at the intersection ahead! A female victim in her twenties just went into sudden cardiac arrest!” “I saw the medical insignia on your license plate. I am emergency-requisitioning your vehicle’s AED kit!” The officer reached for the rear door handle, intending to grab the medical supplies himself. Suddenly, the officer’s shoulder radio crackled to life. “Dispatch, we have positive ID on the cardiac arrest victim. Female, twenty-eight years old. Name is Carmella Miller.” Carmella Miller. The syllables echoed directly into Julian’s eardrums. His heartbeat—the heartbeat that had remained flawlessly, medically stable for years—suddenly exploded into absolute, violent chaos. It was beating so aggressively, so erratically, it completely eclipsed the frantic rhythm he had experienced for Lydia just an hour prior.

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My sister dreamed of being a fairytale heroine, guarded by loyal knights. The day I was born, she wished for a baby brother to protect her. My parents didn’t have the heart to crush her fantasy, so they changed my birth certificate, listing me as male. I kept my hair short, followed her like a shadow, carried her backpack, and fought her battles. Yet I could never shake the suffocating injustice. At seventeen, I secretly created a second social media account. My profile was a girl’s picture, my bio feminine, my feed filled with delicate princess dresses. A boy added me, and we talked for six months. One afternoon, he sent a voice note, chuckling softly, “I found you.” Later that day, the most popular guy in school confessed his love to my sister. As I was about to explain, glowing text began scrolling across my vision like livestream comments. What is this side character thinking? Does he believe confessing now will change anything? How could the future wealthiest tycoon of Bayview ever fall for a guy? It’s laughable. If he discovers he’s been chatting with a boy, he’ll be furious about the deception. But I wasn’t a boy. I was Dakin, and all I wanted was to wear a dress just once. My fingers hovered over the screen. In the end, I never sent that message. 01 Closing my phone, I listened to my classmates gossiping excitedly around me. “Oh my god, was that Miguel?” “He is so insanely handsome. I walked past him earlier and caught a glimpse, he looks so cool and detached.” “I can’t believe he confessed to Serena!” At Bayview High, rumors about Miguel always traveled the fastest. “Did you guys know? Miguel has been into Serena for a long time.” “My cousin is his roommate. He said Miguel is always staring at his phone, smiling so softly.” “The girl he likes has a really sweet voice, loves to daydream, and her social media is full of kittens and all kinds of princess dresses.” I looked out the window. Below the academic building, Serena was wearing a designer Miu Miu dress. Her long, wavy hair fell beautifully over her shoulders. She threw herself into Miguel’s arms. Even the way she blushed was breathtakingly beautiful. I thought to myself. They were right. Serena truly looked like a princess. My desk mate, Wyatt, leaned over the windowsill, watching my sister before turning back to look at me with a serious face. “Dakin, you and your sister don’t look alike at all.” “What do you mean?” Wyatt thought for a moment before offering an analogy. “Your sister is like a graceful swan. You… you look like her servant.” “Short, scrawny, and your hair is full of split ends.” Anger flared in my chest. I buried my face in my arms on the desk, ignoring him. Wyatt nudged my shoulder, his voice turning teasing. “Come on, Dakin, don’t be mad.” “I’ll buy you a drink.” Just as I was about to look up, he added, “Here, this one’s for you. And can you help me deliver the other one to your sister?” My drink was a cheap, dollar-store iced tea. The one for my sister was a fancy, expensive specialty berry latte. I buried my head deeper into the desk. “I’m not going.” “My sister doesn’t like you anyway. She won’t accept it.” Ego bruised, he slammed his hand on the desk, his face flushing with embarrassment. “We’re guys, we don’t need to drink fancy things. Why are you acting so high and mighty?” “Dakin, I think you’re just jealous of your sister!” With that, he stomped off. The entire classroom turned to look at me. I buried my face in my math worksheet, pretending I didn’t care. But my fingers gripped the hem of my shirt so tightly that my palms ached. I didn’t say another word to Wyatt that day. Once school ended and everyone had left, I sat in the empty classroom and cried. I suddenly remembered a time long ago when I had secretly tried on one of my sister’s hair clips. My mother had screamed at me, calling me a thief. Heartbroken, I had posted a picture of the clip online. A kind stranger added me: [Is this the one? Don’t worry about the money, I’ll send it to you.] Later, he messaged me: [So you like pink? Princess dresses, huh? Quite the girly heart.] Then, he added: [But… it suits you.] I knew that every time I posted on my feed, he was always the first to leave a like. Miguel had mistaken my sister for me. I didn’t blame him. After all, I was the one who, like a thief in the night, had secretly envied and peeked into my sister’s perfect life. 02 After that day, I logged out of the secret account and never opened it again. During breakfast, my mother gave me her usual reminder. “Your sister is having bad cramps today. As her brother, you need to take good care of her.” I chewed slowly on my toast. “I will.” Serena was two years older than me, a senior. Our classrooms were far apart. I carefully filled a thermos with warm chamomile tea and stirred in some honey. The moment the bell rang, I ran over to her building. By the time I arrived, sweating and out of breath, my sister had just gone to the restroom. I set the warm tea on her desk. After a moment’s thought, I slipped a few chocolates next to it. Suddenly, a boy with dyed red hair blocked my path, raised an eyebrow, and leaned against the desk. He looked me up and down with a sneer. “What class are you in?” “Don’t you know Serena has a boyfriend?” I didn’t know this guy. And I didn’t want to start any trouble. But before I could even open my mouth to explain, he snatched the thermos and threw it to the ground, splashing the tea everywhere. “I’ve been watching you for a while now.” “Every single day, you carry Serena’s bag, run errands, and buy her drinks.” “Tsk, trying so hard to kiss up to her? Do you really think you’re on her level?” He pinned me against the wall, his tone dangerously casual. He was too close. Terrified that he was about to punch me, I squeezed my eyes shut. “That’s enough.” “Asher, don’t push it.” A cool, detached voice sounded from nearby. Miguel took off his headphones. Glancing at me, he said calmly, “Take your chocolates back, kid. She doesn’t need them.” “And from now on, stay away from Serena.” His voice was beautiful. His words were polite, yet firm. Glowing comments flashed across my mind. [Lmao, the side character is such a clown.] [The male lead didn’t even recognize him. He thinks Dakin is a rival and is getting jealous!] [Dakin needs to know his place. Stop making a fool of yourself. Even if the male lead found out the truth, he would only feel disgusted, not fall for you.] Just then, Serena hurried back. Seeing the tense standoff, she let out a soft laugh. “Oh my gosh, what are you guys doing? Are you about to fight?” She naturally wrapped her arm around Miguel’s. Then, she pointed at me. “This is my brother. My real brother.” Miguel froze. “Your brother makes you tea and walks you to school every day?” Serena blinked innocently. “Yeah, he’s like my personal knight. A younger brother is supposed to protect his sister for the rest of his life, right?” A long silence followed. Realizing he had made a mistake, Miguel extended his hand to me and said sincerely, “I’m sorry.” I forced a tight smile, but my lips felt completely numb. Back when we chatted online, he used to tease me, making my face flush: [What are you so afraid of? Am I going to eat you when we finally meet?] But I never expected our actual meeting to be like this. And all he had to say to me was a cold, polite apology. 03 Perhaps out of guilt for the misunderstanding, Miguel had someone deliver some things to me a few days later. It was a stack of thick, neatly organized study guides and hard-to-find practice exams. Asher dropped the materials onto my desk with a lazy shrug. “Miguel put these together.” “He’s always top of the class. His notes should help you with the upcoming midterms.” Seeing my hesitation, Asher slung an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, don’t hold a grudge. We were out of line the other day.” “Just don’t go badmouthing us to your sister.” I thought to myself: Ah, so he likes my sister too. I nodded and accepted the books. As I flipped through the practice exams, a beautifully packaged box of imported chocolates fell out. I blinked in surprise. Asher was already walking away. He waved a hand over his shoulder. “Those are from me.” “Eat up. You need to grow taller.” During the midterm exams, for some reason, every question that was similar to the ones in that practice book was a breeze. I didn’t lose a single point. Gradually, the tension between us began to thaw. Whenever I ran into Miguel at school, we would exchange a polite nod. Sometimes, while memorizing vocabulary in the hallway, I would look down and see Miguel squatting near the academic building, feeding a small colony of stray ginger cats. The summer breeze blew softly, rustling his hair. He would smile, his lips curving into a gentle line, as if thinking of someone special. But in the next second, a bright, cheerful figure would throw her arms around him. “So this is where you were hiding!” Serena glanced down at the cats, wrinkling her nose. “Ugh, why do you like these basic ginger cats just like my brother does?” “I thought you’d prefer something cooler, like a Maine Coon…” Miguel went rigid. “Your brother likes these cats?” “Yeah, why?” Miguel stood up, brushing off his jeans. “Nothing.” “Let’s go. I want to see you practice ballet.” As they walked away, a little ginger cat rubbed against my ankle, meowing softly. I broke off a piece of a turkey jerky strip and fed it to the kitten. After that day, I rarely went to that hallway to study. 04 Miguel’s devotion to Serena was legendary throughout the school. On her birthday, he gifted her a diamond necklace worth seven figures. The class decided to celebrate at an upscale karaoke lounge, and during a game of Truth or Dare, Serena lost several rounds in a row. Miguel drank every single penalty shot for her. I went to the restroom, and when I came out, I saw him leaning heavily against the sink. He looked incredibly pale, as if he had just thrown up. After a brief hesitation, I stepped forward to support him. “If you’re not feeling well, you should tell my sister.” The moment our fingers brushed, Miguel stiffened. His handsome brow furrowed. He subtly but firmly pulled his arm back, escaping my touch. “Why is it you?” The floating comments sneered: [The side character is so pathetic, trying to orchestrate a run-in to get close to the male lead.] [He tried the same thing with the ginger cats last time. What’s the point of all this effort? Even if the male lead suspects something, he’ll just pretend he doesn’t know.] I withdrew my hand. “Just passing by.” Even after I had walked far down the corridor, I could still feel his dark, heavy gaze lingering on my back. I left the party early that night. Around nine, a light drizzle began to fall, and my father looked out the window with a worried frown. “Dakin, go pick up your sister and bring her home.” I kept my eyes glued to my textbook. “Someone is already bringing her home.” My mother frowned, her voice sharp with disapproval. “I don’t trust other boys walking her home in the dark. Dakin, since when did you become so selfish?” Seeing the rising tension, my father put his laptop aside and quickly tried to soothe her. I silently put on my raincoat, grabbed an extra umbrella, and walked out into the damp night. Perhaps Serena had stayed out too late. By a stroke of terrible luck, we were cornered by a group of local street thugs in a narrow, dark alley. “Dakin, what do we do? I’m scared…” Serena whimpered, her voice tiny and trembling. I didn’t tell her that I was terrified too. But I dropped my backpack anyway. “Serena, when things get messy, run toward the main road. Don’t look back…” It was supposed to be this way, wasn’t it? When I was a child and a plate was broken, I was the one who took the blame. Every teddy bear my parents bought was handed to her. When there was a massive spider in her wardrobe, she would scream and call my name, and I would swallow my own terror to kill it for her. From the moment I could understand words, the phrase my parents repeated most was: “You must promise to protect your sister. You’re the man of the house.” “Serena has a congenital heart condition, she’s so fragile. You are healthy and strong, so you have to look out for her your entire life.” “Our Dakin is so smart, surely you can understand and help your parents…” I had heard those words so many times that they had become second nature. So, when the wooden planks and metal pipes swung toward us, I didn’t hesitate. I shielded her with my body. When they grabbed my hair, I kicked them in the stomach. The noise eventually grew loud enough to draw the attention of nearby neighbors, who called the police, forcing the thugs to scatter. Wiping the blood dripping from my forehead, I reached out to pull my sister up. Some kind bystanders helped us to the hospital, and Miguel arrived shortly after receiving the news. He burst into the room, and his eyes immediately locked onto the scrape on Serena’s knee. He turned to me, his voice tight with anger. “Dakin, why couldn’t you have been more careful?” “She’s hurt! Is this how you protect your sister?” His anxiety made his aura incredibly cold and oppressive. Serena sobbed, shaking her head to defend me, but she was crying too hard to speak. “Hey, Miguel, calm down,” Asher stepped in, patting his shoulder. “Dakin is hurt too. Look at his forehead, it’s still bleeding. You can’t blame him for this.” Only then did Miguel notice the white bandage wrapped around my forehead. His voice caught in his throat. He fell silent, turned on his heel, and walked out to settle the hospital bill. Knowing his friend was in a terrible mood, Asher followed to comfort him. From a distance, Miguel’s cold, dismissive words drifted back to my ears. “He’s a guy. Isn’t this exactly what he’s supposed to do?” “What does he have to feel bad about?” “Honestly, I don’t feel safe leaving Serena in his hands.” I lowered my head, staring at the tips of my shoes, and kicked a small pebble. I didn’t say a single word. 05 When Miguel dropped my sister off at our apartment building, he called out to me. “The police found your phone.” The screen wasn’t locked. I mumbled a quick thank you and took it from him. Just as I turned to head upstairs, the phone in my hand began to vibrate. I froze, looking down at the screen. Standing under the dim streetlamp, Miguel slowly lowered his own phone from his ear. “It really was you.” We stared at each other through the hazy drizzle. There was no sudden joy of discovery, no regret for the misunderstanding. His face was as flat and cold as still water as he slid a card toward me. “Dakin, let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?” “I don’t want anyone else to know.” “Honestly, it’s pretty disgusting.” The freezing rain beat down on my face. It was so humiliating. So painful that it made me want to weep. With all the strength left in my body, I snapped the card in half, threw the pieces at his chest, and ran upstairs. The moment I crossed the threshold of my home, the tears finally spilled over, completely uncontrollable. I wanted to scream. I wanted to demand answers. Why was life so incredibly unfair to me? Seeing me, my father quickly put a finger to his lips. “Shh, your sister just fell asleep…” The heavy silence in the room was suffocating, pushing me to the brink of madness. “Dad, Mom, I don’t want to be the brother anymore!” I sobbed, my voice cracking. “I want to be a girl again! I want to grow my hair long, I want to take ballet lessons…” “Why are you doing this to me? It’s not my fault Serena is sick! Why do I have to carry this burden?” It was the very first time I had ever talked back. Flushed with anger, my mother raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “What is wrong with you? Who upset you that you’re taking it out on us?” My cheek burned with a stinging heat. I couldn’t stand to be in that house for another second. I bolted out the door and ran into the night. Behind me, I heard my sister stirring, her voice sleepy and mocking. “Why is Dakin crying? What a baby, crying over nothing.” My father asked, “Who set him off?” My mother replied coldly, “Who knows?” Outside, the storm grew heavier. I huddled under the awning of a bus stop, shivering, with absolutely nowhere to go. Clasping my knees to my chest, I let out a broken sob, weeping into the dark. Bus after bus passed by. Then, an umbrella tilted over my head, blocking out the rain. “Dakin?” Asher called my name a few times. When I didn’t respond, he squatted down and pressed his palm against my forehead. “Oh my god, you’re running a fever. Get up.” He reached out to help me stand. But my knees buckled, and I collapsed forward, crashing directly into his chest. Asher groaned as we hit the pavement, but his body went completely rigid. His eyes widened in absolute shock as he looked down at me. “You… you’re a girl?”

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1 This was the ninth time I was locked away for supposedly terrifying Erich’s fragile first love. Inside the ward, I realized his delicate porcelain doll was actually a powerhouse butcher who could hoist a half carcass of pork with one hand. She wore a four million dollar Tibetan Dzi bead bracelet Erich had just won at auction, yet screamed herself red at the logistics manager over a one dollar invoice error. I walked over and asked if a single dollar was worth all that. She wiped the sweat from her brow and nodded with absolute conviction. Every cent paid for her terminally ill husband’s treatment. Without even drinking water, she hopped onto her delivery tricycle and rushed to her next client. Erich, who had just promised me a future, gave no explanation. He simply signaled the orderlies to drag me into isolation for forced electroconvulsive therapy. You swore not to go near her and scare her again, he said coldly. After three sunless months, Erich returned. Say it, he ordered. I nodded numbly and recited the lines. I did not know Erich Sterling. He was the sick husband of Maya Evans. I did not eat pork and would never set foot near the meat market again. Grimly satisfied, he signed my discharge papers. On the way home, he told me Maya was pure and harmless. As long as I kept her secret, he would give me a child. The blood drained from my face as I curled into the leather seat. He had no idea the treatments had left me infertile, and that I no longer wanted a child with a man who belonged to someone else. … The moment we stepped inside our sprawling estate, Erich opened his arms, attempting to pull me into a hug. My body violently, uncontrollably flinched, trembling in sheer panic. Erich slowly lowered his arms, a satisfied smirk crossing his face. “Excellent. You are finally cured of being so suffocatingly clingy.” From the very day we got married, Erich claimed he suffered from severe mysophobia. He stated he despised physical contact with other human beings. But my memory was crystal clear. On the day he ordered the orderlies to drag me away for electroshock therapy, he immediately changed his clothes to chase after his precious Maya. Even when Maya was completely covered in raw animal blood and greasy pork fat, he had wrapped his arms around her with absolute desperation, burying his face deep into the crook of her neck, breathing her in like she was his lifeline. Erich forced me to sit at the grand dining table. It was entirely covered with a lavish spread of my favorite dishes. “I hired a Michelin-starred private chef. Cost a small fortune,” he remarked casually. He slid a heavy, metallic black card across the mahogany table. “You suffered a bit over the last few months. Consider this your compensation.” This was his standard operating procedure. When I was deathly ill and he was too busy to visit the hospital? He transferred money. When tabloids plastered his face next to a rising actress? He transferred money. When he forgot our wedding anniversary? He transferred money. He always said: Where my money goes, my love follows. Yet, when he dressed himself in cheap, twenty-dollar thrift store t-shirts to play a dying pauper for Maya, I saw a light in his eyes that he had never, ever shown to me. Erich picked up a perfectly glazed piece of sweet and sour spare rib and placed it onto my porcelain plate. “Taste it. This single piece of meat costs over four hundred dollars.” My stomach violently convulsed. I shoved my chair back, sprinting to the nearest trash can, vomiting until my throat bled and the world spun in dizzying circles. The agonizing memories of being forcibly “corrected” in the hospital rushed back into my brain, suffocating me. Erich stood over me, the curve of his smile growing even wider. “Excellent. You finally cured your appetite for pork.” I gripped the marble wall, my entire body violently shaking. I could not force a single word out of my throat. The previous times he had committed me to the asylum? I had simply been walking past the municipal meat market, wanting to buy a few pounds of ribs to cook him dinner. But Erich became paranoid, convinced I was stalking Maya to expose his billionaire identity. “Maya is easily frightened. You shouldn’t do things like that,” he had told me. At that time, I didn’t even know who Maya was. Erich didn’t bother checking on me as I collapsed on the cold tile, shaking violently. He simply walked upstairs, changed into a set of ragged, faded clothes, grabbed a plastic tupperware container filled with a dish he had cooked himself, and walked out the front door with a light, cheerful step. Erich’s executive assistant approached me quietly, holding out a crisp, white medical document. “Madam, Mr. Sterling has instructed you to report to the fertility clinic tomorrow for pre-operative preparations.” “He has arranged top-tier artificial insemination to grant you a child.” I stared at the medical requisition form, my voice dropping to a hollow whisper. “Does Maya have children?” The assistant froze, awkwardly lowering his head. “Mr. Sterling believes that pregnancy takes too severe a toll on a woman’s body and ruins her figure. He cannot bear to watch Maya endure that kind of physical suffering.” “So… Mr. Sterling underwent a vasectomy himself.” The medical form in my hand was instantly crushed into a tight, wrinkled ball. So, as the principal dancer of a prestigious ballet company, I was the one expected to sacrifice my body and endure the physical destruction of pregnancy. I didn’t say another word. I simply pulled out my phone and sent a secure text message to my grandmother. “Nana, I finally secured enough funds. We are leaving the country in two days. We are never coming back.” The following morning, I walked into the private hospital. I practically collided with Maya, who was wearing blue hospital scrubs, working as a private orderly. I instinctively turned to flee. She called out loudly, jogging over to stop me. My body went completely rigid in pure terror, but she simply smiled warmly, holding out a paper bag filled with fresh peaches. “Thank you so much for sending all that business my way! Several massive restaurant groups and supermarkets contacted me out of nowhere to supply their pork! My order book is full until next month!” “I made enough money to cover half a year of my husband’s medical bills in a single week!” “It even freed up my schedule so I can work as an orderly here to make extra cash!” Her laugh was bright and infectious. Her sun-kissed skin seemed to glow with genuine vitality. She looked exactly like the worn, faded photograph of the little girl Erich kept hidden in his wallet—the photograph he had rubbed so many times the edges were frayed. I gripped the bag of peaches tightly, my fingernails digging so deep into my palms they nearly drew blood. It was Erich. He was addicted to the fantasy of her desperate, unconditional devotion, yet he couldn’t actually bear to let her suffer the grinding reality of poverty. So he operated from the shadows, meticulously paving her road with gold while pretending to be a dying pauper. Yet, when I once asked Erich to simply purchase a specific ballet leotard for me while he was on a business trip in Europe? He bought twenty of them and had his assistant distribute them to every single dancer in my company. “These gifts are only being distributed out of Mr. Sterling’s pity for his wife,” the assistant had announced publicly. From that day forward, not a single dancer in my company ever spoke to me again. I stared at the cracked, bleeding calluses on Maya’s hands, driven by a morbid curiosity I couldn’t control. “Is your husband really that incredible? Is he truly worth killing yourself over?” The bright smile on her face instantly softened into profound, unconditional love. “He is the best thing that ever happened to me. When it rains, even though his leg is crippled, he limps all the way to the market just to walk me home. In the winter, he knows my hands get frostbitten, so he tucks them inside his shirt against his bare chest and holds them there all night.” Every single memory she shared was a level of tenderness I had never, ever received from him. It felt as though a massive, invisible hand reached into my chest and crushed my heart until I couldn’t breathe. Just then, Erich walked down the corridor. The moment his eyes locked onto me, his face darkened into a terrifying scowl. His eyes screamed a lethal warning. Completely oblivious, Maya beamed and ran over to grab his arm. “Hubby, look! This is the amazing woman I told you about! The one who helped my business!” Erich’s icy gaze scraped across my face. The suffocating pressure radiating off him nearly made my knees buckle. But he smoothly played along with Maya’s fantasy, forcing a rigid, unnatural smile onto his face as he looked at me. “Thank you.” Maya enthusiastically clapped her hands. “To show our appreciation, you absolutely have to come over to our place for dinner tonight!” Like a prisoner marching to the gallows, I followed them into a dark, damp, subterranean basement apartment. The moment they walked through the door, Erich pulled a small, colorful bouquet of cheap wildflowers from behind his back like a magic trick, pressing them into Maya’s chest. Maya gasped in delight, wrapping her arms around the flowers and standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Erich smiled warmly, rolling up his sleeves and stepping into the cramped, greasy kitchen. He began prepping dinner with practiced, effortless skill. Halfway through cooking, he walked out holding a small plate of sliced apples. He picked up a piece with a toothpick and gently fed it directly into Maya’s mouth. They acted completely alone in the world, radiating pure, undeniable love. I sat rigidly on a broken folding chair, feeling like the punchline of a sick, cosmic joke. When I once ran a fever of a hundred and four degrees in the middle of the night, I had begged him to pour me a simple glass of water. He had physically shoved me into the master bathroom. “My time is worth thousands of dollars a minute. I am not wasting it playing nursemaid to you.” When dinner was finally served, Maya enthusiastically piled food onto my chipped plate. “You have to try this! This is my husband’s absolute specialty!” Stir-fried shiitake mushrooms. I am severely allergic to shiitake mushrooms. Ingesting them causes aggressive hives, triggering an itch so bone-deep it feels like insects crawling under my skin. Yet Erich had ordered our private chefs at the estate to cook this exact dish every single day. I finally understood why. It was Maya’s favorite food. I picked up my chopsticks, intending to push the mushrooms aside. Clack. Erich tapped his chopsticks sharply against the rim of his bowl. I looked up and met his dead, reptilian eyes. I had no choice. I forced myself to chew and swallow the mushrooms whole. Within seconds, a burning, aggressive itch began spreading across my neck and arms. I barely survived the agonizing dinner. The exact second I walked through the doors of the grand estate, my phone buzzed. A text from Erich. [Bring a box of condoms to the basement.] I returned to the damp, peeling door of the subterranean apartment. Through the thin wood, the unmistakable sounds of passionate intimacy leaked out into the hallway. The door to the adjacent unit suddenly cracked open. An elderly woman poked her head out, clicking her tongue. “Tsk. That husband of hers looks like he’s at death’s door, but he’s got the stamina of a bull. Four or five times a day, they never leave that bed.” I froze in the dim hallway, the blood freezing in my veins. When I first married into the Sterling family, Erich slept alone in his private study on our wedding night. Months later, at a massive family banquet, his mother had pointed her finger directly at my face in front of dozens of wealthy relatives. “Did the Sterling family pay millions just to marry a piece of dead wood? You can’t even figure out how to satisfy your own husband in bed!” Erich sat right beside her, sipping his wine, remaining completely silent as I was brutally humiliated for an entire hour. I had naively assumed he suffered from some unspoken medical trauma or performance anxiety. Now I finally understood the truth. I was the one he found repulsive. But it wasn’t always like this. In the beginning, Erich and I weren’t enemies. When he first pursued me, the entire city of Seattle knew that the heir to the Sterling empire was throwing millions at the principal dancer of the ballet company. I was completely honest with him. I told him I needed a massive amount of liquid cash to support my family. Erich didn’t even blink. “Your grandmother is severely ill. It is your duty to take care of her.” But on the day of our wedding, he saw my grandmother walking around, entirely healthy and robust. From that exact moment, his entire demeanor flipped. In his eyes, I morphed into a ruthless, gold-digging parasite who fabricated a dying relative to drain his bank accounts. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t tell him that the millions of dollars were being funneled to an elite private military contractor to fund the search for my missing parents. Years ago, my parents and his father had vanished together while traveling in South America. Erich was completely convinced that the “disappearance” was just a cowardly cover story—that his father had abandoned his family to start a new life with stolen corporate funds. But my grandmother’s only dying wish was to locate my parents’ remains and bring them home. I had no other options. But thankfully, the final payment had finally been secured. I could finally take my grandmother and escape this living hell. Erich vanished for several days. The next time I saw him was outside the ballet company headquarters. Maya came sprinting up to me, her face glowing with pure joy, shoving a grant application into my hands. “Thank you so much! Erich told me you personally fought the board of directors to secure this charitable foundation grant for us!” I looked up, locking eyes with Erich’s lethal, warning glare. Without a word, I signed the authorization forms. That night, I checked my banking app. Every single dollar I had bled for, every penny I had hoarded in my private account, had been entirely drained. I kicked open the door to his private study. “The money you transferred out of my account—you funneled it through that fake charity grant and gave it directly to Maya!” My entire body shook with violent rage. “That money was my compensation! You promised me that money!” He finally looked up from his mahogany desk, staring at me with absolute zero empathy. “You just admitted I was the one who gave it to you. Which means I can take it back whenever I please.” At that exact moment, my phone rang. It was my grandmother, her frail voice shaking with desperate hope. “Sweetheart? Can we leave a few days early? Nana just can’t wait anymore.” I gripped the phone against my ear, unable to force a single syllable past the suffocating lump in my throat. I couldn’t tell her that the hope she had clung to for ten agonizing years had just been effortlessly crushed by the man sitting across from me. I hung up the phone. I walked back to my dressing room and pulled out a provocative, skin-tight evening dress I had sworn never to wear. I dug through a drawer of old business cards and dialed a number I had ignored for years. Inside the pulsing, neon-lit VIP room of a luxury nightclub, a greasy executive named Mr. Vance rested his sweaty hand heavily on my bare thigh. Through the blinding strobe lights, I spotted a woman wearing a blue janitorial uniform. It was Maya. She stared at me in absolute, horrified shock. When Mr. Vance waddled away to the restroom, she rushed over to the leather sofa. “If you are being forced into this, just tell me! I will help you escape!” I glanced at her wrist. She was wearing a flawless, imperial green jade bangle. It was the Sterling family’s most sacred heirloom. The expensive liquor in my mouth suddenly tasted like battery acid. “Nobody forced me. I am doing this willingly.” When the networking event concluded, Mr. Vance wrapped a thick arm around my waist, demanding I accompany him to his hotel suite. At the exit, Erich, who had driven his beat-up sedan to pick up Maya from her janitorial shift, witnessed the entire scene. Maya clung to his arm, whispering frantically into his ear with deep concern. Erich merely cast a look of pure, unadulterated disgust in my direction. “She is a parasite who will spread her legs for anyone with a checkbook. It is none of our business.” I lowered my eyes and followed Mr. Vance toward his luxury vehicle. But before I could open the passenger door, Vance pinned me against the chassis, his greasy face contorting into a vile, drunken leer. “You know what? Let’s just do it right here against the hood. I like the thrill.” He lunged forward, violently grabbing the hem of my dress to rip it upward. SMACK. A heavy wooden broom handle swung through the air, cracking brutally across his forearm and knocking his hand away. Maya stepped forward, shoving me behind her back defensively. Vance squinted his drunken eyes. When he registered Maya’s face, a sick grin spread across his face. “Well, well. This one is even feistier. I haven’t tasted this flavor before.” Before his hand could even graze Maya’s uniform, Erich exploded forward, driving his fist directly into Vance’s jaw and dropping him to the concrete. The always cold, always calculated billionaire lost his mind. He mounted the executive, raining down savage, merciless blows upon the bleeding man’s face. I instinctively lunged forward to pull Erich off him, but he threw a blind backhand, striking me across the chest and sending me crashing hard into the asphalt. Maya took one step forward. “Stop hitting him.” Erich froze instantly. The demonic, bloodthirsty rage evaporated from his eyes, returning to total clarity. Maya knelt down, helped me off the ground, and pressed a worn debit card into my palm. “I had no idea things were this desperate for you. Please, take this money.” This time, Erich did not intervene. But as I limped a few steps away, Erich chased after me, violently hurling a thick legal binder against my chest. “Sign the divorce papers. You get absolutely nothing.” “Since you accepted Maya’s charity, you must trade something of equal value.” “The only thing of value you possess is the title of Mrs. Sterling—a title you conned out of me in the first place.” I looked at him and asked one single question. “If I sign it, do I get to keep the money on this debit card?” Erich let out a dark, mocking laugh. “You truly have no bottom line. To secure a few pennies, you sell your body to old men, and you sell your marriage.” I didn’t defend myself. I pulled a pen from my purse and signed my name on the dotted line. Then, I slid the diamond wedding band off my finger and held it out to him. Erich took the multi-million-dollar ring without a second glance and casually tossed it directly into the nearest storm drain. “I will never allow Maya to wear discarded trash.” The market value of that diamond was exactly identical to the amount of money he had drained from my account. Erich didn’t care about the financial loss. He simply wanted to prove that I was worthless. The freezing night wind whipped across my face, and the tears I swore I wouldn’t shed finally spilled over. When I returned to the Sterling estate, my belongings were piled in a heap outside the front gates. My customized ballet slippers, my international championship trophies, the hand-knit sweaters I had made for my grandmother—all of it had been thrown directly into the muddy gutters. My phone rang. It was the director of the ballet company, his voice dripping with absolute contempt. “Our company is far too small to house a disgraced, talentless parasite like you. Don’t bother coming back.” Erich couldn’t even wait a single hour. He immediately utilized his corporate power to strip away every single asset, connection, and benefit he believed I had leeched from his empire. But finally, I was free. I calmly walked to the cheap motel where my grandmother was staying. Three months later, my expedited visa and the finalized divorce decree arrived in the mail on the same day. I booked two seats on the earliest international flight out of the country. Just when I believed the nightmare was permanently over, the door to our motel room was violently kicked open, splintering the frame. Erich lunged across the room, wrapping his massive hand around my throat and pinning me against the wall. “What the hell did you say to Maya?! She’s gone!” He slammed a crumpled piece of medical paper against my face. It was a positive pregnancy test result. “Did you find out about this and threaten her?!” My reproductive system had been destroyed by his electroshock treatments months ago. I could never get pregnant. But with his fingers crushing my windpipe, I couldn’t force a single word out. He stared at me, the pure, unhinged madness in his eyes threatening to consume me alive. “Sienna, you brought this entirely upon yourself.” I woke up in the familiar, terrifying white room, blinded by surgical lights. Erich stood in the corner, his face an emotionless mask, watching as the psychiatric doctor applied the conductive gel pads directly to my temples. They turned the voltage dial to the absolute maximum. The current was so violent it burned the skin on my forehead black and blue. When my body finally gave out, Erich ordered his men to throw my unconscious body into an abandoned industrial meat freezer on the docks. “If my men don’t find Maya, you can freeze to death in here and rot as her sacrifice.” Using the absolute last reserve of adrenaline in my frozen body, I managed to pry open a rusted ventilation grate and crawled bleeding through the narrow exhaust shaft to freedom. I pushed through the agony, retrieved my grandmother, and dragged us both onto the international flight. It wasn’t until the heavy cabin doors sealed shut that I finally allowed myself to breathe. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A secure message from the military contractor. [We have successfully located the skeletal remains of your parents. They are waiting for your identification at the arrival terminal.] The dam broke. The tears flowed uncontrollably. Thousands of miles away, Erich finally tracked Maya down to a run-down roadside motel. When she saw him, her eyes immediately welled with tears. “I’m pregnant… I was terrified you would think the baby was a financial burden on your medical bills, so I ran away.” Erich stared at her in total shock. He had personally undergone a vasectomy. But he quickly rationalized it—this child must be an absolute miracle, a divine gift from the universe. But that meant Sienna… He fabricated a quick excuse, stepped out into the motel parking lot, and immediately dialed his assistant. “Get to the docks and pull Sienna out of the freezer right now!” On the other end of the line, the assistant’s voice was shaking violently. “Sir… the docks are completely surrounded by SWAT units and police tape.” “They… they said they discovered the frozen corpse of a woman inside the unit.”

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On the day the school district posted the disciplinary notices for the AP exams, my mildly autistic younger sister, Chloe, took a three-hour bus ride to my house. She stood outside my study door for a long time, clutching the notification stamped with “Cheating Investigation Pending” in red ink, before she finally found the courage to walk in. “Julian… I was the only one in that testing room. I swear I didn’t cheat.” Her voice was barely a whisper, as if she was terrified of bothering anyone. My husband, Julian Carter, was the Head of the Academic Integrity Board. Nobody knew the rules of single-student testing rooms better than him. Yet, he didn’t even look up from his laptop. “Being alone in the room doesn’t prove your innocence, Chloe. If you have a grievance, take it up with the Ethics Committee.” Chloe froze. Her hand, which had been reaching out to show him the paper, hovered in the air. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Slowly, she folded the letter and stuffed it back into the pocket of her faded denim jacket. It was a clean jacket. She had ironed it herself just to look presentable for Julian. My throat tightened. But as I turned my head, my eyes caught the document open on Julian’s laptop screen. *Application for the ‘Academic Integrity Star’ and Early Decision Ivy League Recommendation for Scarlett Vance.* Scarlett Vance. She was the younger sister of Serena Vance—Julian’s first love, his “one that got away.” She was also the sole witness who had reported my sister for cheating. There was zero security footage, zero physical evidence. It was just Scarlett’s word against Chloe’s. As Chloe bent down to tie her sneakers at the entryway, her knee hit the shoe cabinet with a dull thud. She quickly waved her hand at me, trying to smile. “I’m fine, Nina. Julian is busy. Don’t let me get in the way of his important work.” I stood by the door, my fingernails digging deep into my palms. This neglected, emotionally exhausting marriage—I was completely done with it.

“Nina? Why are you just standing by the door staring into space?” Julian walked out of the study, holding an empty coffee mug. “Chloe didn’t bring an umbrella. It’s pouring outside.” I turned around to grab the umbrella from the entryway rack. “She’s a grown girl. She can just call an Uber,” Julian said smoothly. His tone was warm and gentle. It was as if the cold, power-tripping man in the study just minutes ago didn’t exist. “She has autism, Julian. When it rains, she gets too overwhelmed to even speak to strangers. She can’t call an Uber.” I quickly slipped on my shoes and ran out into the pouring rain. By the time I reached the bus stop, the last bus heading to the outer suburbs was already pulling away. The icy rain pelted my face, freezing me to the bone. When I got back home, I didn’t even take off my soaked coat. I marched straight to the living room medicine cabinet. Chloe had gotten drenched. She was already physically weak from the stress, and the last time she ran a high fever, she almost had a seizure. I opened the white first-aid kit. The three boxes of imported cooling patches and liquid fever reducers that I always kept on the top shelf were gone. “Don’t bother looking, Nina.” Julian walked in from the balcony, just finishing a phone call. He casually took off his suit jacket and handed it to me. “Scarlett caught a cold from the rain and was sneezing. She has a delicate immune system, so I stopped by and gave her those meds just in case.” He said it so naturally, as if he were merely telling me what he wanted for dinner. My hand holding the empty medicine box froze in mid-air. “Chloe almost had a seizure the last time she had a fever. Those specific meds were prescribed and imported just for her.” I stared at him, my voice cracking. Julian sighed, walking over to wrap his arms around me. “Don’t be so sensitive all the time, Nina.” “Chloe has autism. Her pain tolerance is much higher than normal people.” “But Scarlett is different. She has a major art exhibition tomorrow. She can’t afford to be sick.” “Be a good girl. You can just buy more for Chloe tomorrow.” I took a step back, dodging his touch. “Those are Chloe’s emergency meds. You didn’t even bother to ask me before giving them all to Scarlett?” Julian frowned slightly, looking at me with the patronizing patience one might show to a throwing-tantrum child. “Scarlett is Serena’s sister. Serena trusted me to look after her before she moved to Europe.” “I can’t just stand by and watch her sickness ruin her future.” “Besides, Chloe’s disciplinary case isn’t finalized yet, and Scarlett is the key witness.” “If you treat Scarlett a little better right now, maybe she’ll soften up and drop the cheating accusation against Chloe.” I stared at the handsome, sophisticated man in front of me. He always found the most noble excuses to justify his cruelest actions. “Chloe did not cheat,” I said, pronouncing every single word clearly. “She was the only one in that room.” “Scarlett accuses her with zero proof, and you just blindly believe her.” “You’d rather trust an outsider than my sister?” Julian rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted. “I am the Head of the Academic Integrity Board. I have to be responsible for all students.” “Scarlett has been an honors student her whole life. She has no reason to frame Chloe.” “And let’s be real—Chloe can barely speak a coherent sentence on normal days. How could she suddenly solve the extra-credit advanced calculus problem at the end of the exam?” He turned toward the bathroom. “Is my bath ready? I have an important district board meeting tomorrow morning.” I stood frozen, watching his tall back walk away. We had been married for three years. To take care of his daily life, I had resigned from my dream job as a senior data analyst. I thought my sacrifices and patience would buy his respect and care for Chloe. But instead, he dragged my boundaries through the mud just to please his ex-girlfriend’s sister. “Run the water yourself,” I said quietly. Julian stopped in his tracks and looked back at me, seemingly surprised. “Nina, stop throwing a tantrum. Go make me some hot ginger soup. I want it after my bath.” He wasn’t angry. He just spoke in that usual, commanding tone, absolutely certain that I wouldn’t dare refuse him. I ignored him completely. I pulled out my phone and called Chloe’s landlady. “Hi, Mrs. Gable. Could you please check on Chloe for me? If she has a fever, please call me immediately.” After hanging up, I threw Julian’s suit jacket onto the sofa. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. I walked out to the balcony, staring into the pitch-black, rainy night. My phone screen lit up. It was a Snapchat message from Scarlett. “Thanks for the meds, Nina! Julian is such a lifesaver. The cooling patches work like a charm! ❤️” Attached was a selfie of her with a cooling patch on her forehead. The background was the luxurious leather interior of the sports car Julian had gifted her. I didn’t reply. I just swiped left on her chat and deleted it. The rain grew heavier, rattling against the glass. One by one, I turned off all the lights in the living room. Julian came out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. “Nina, where’s my soup?” In the darkness, the only sound was the water dripping from his towel onto the floor. “I didn’t make any,” I said from the sofa, my voice flat. He paused, then switched on the light. “What is wrong with you today? Are you seriously throwing a fit over a few boxes of cheap medicine?” “Fine. Tomorrow I’ll have my assistant buy ten boxes and send them to Chloe. Satisfied?” He walked over, towering over me. “I’ve had a exhausting day at work. Can you please be a little supportive?” I looked up into his eyes. “Julian, do you honestly think this is just about a few boxes of medicine?” His frown deepened. “Then what? What else do you want me to do?” “Go apologize to Chloe? Or humiliate Scarlett?” “Nina, you’re an adult. Stop acting like a prickly teenager.” I looked down, digging my nails into my palms. I didn’t say another word. Because I realized that no matter what I said, in this man’s eyes, I would always be the one who was “unreasonable.” He honestly believed that a few cheap favors could always keep me quiet and obedient. I stood up, walked past him, and headed to the bedroom. “I’m staying somewhere else for a few days starting tomorrow.” Julian let out a soft, arrogant chuckle behind me. “Sure. Take a few days to cool off. Just don’t forget to pack my daily stomach meds into my organizer before you go.”

The next morning, carrying the newly bought medicine and cooling patches, I took a three-hour bus ride to the rundown suburban trailer park where Chloe lived. When I pushed the door open, the room smelled of damp mold. Chloe was curled up on her single bed, her forehead burning hot. Biting back my tears, I gave her the medicine and placed a fresh cooling patch on her forehead. She was delirious with fever, but her hand was clutching a piece of drawing paper with a death grip. “Nina… didn’t… didn’t cheat…” she mumbled. I gently pried her fingers open and pulled the paper out. It was a drawing of a sunflower, completely filled with complex numbers and intersecting lines. To anyone else, it looked like random, chaotic graffiti. But I knew better. This was Chloe’s encrypted visual diary. Because of her autism, she used this unique system to record everything that happened to her daily. By noon, Chloe’s fever finally broke. She sat up, carefully smoothing out the drawing on the desk, and began adding more numbers with a pencil. Just then, there was a knock on the door. I went to open it. Julian was standing outside holding a fruit basket. Beside him was Scarlett, wearing a designer dress and holding a Starbucks iced latte. “Nina, I brought Scarlett to see Chloe,” Julian said warmly. He walked right in, putting the fruit basket on a scratched coffee table. “While you’re here, make some homemade lobster bisque for Scarlett. She said she’s craving it.” He wasn’t here to visit my sick sister. He was here to order me around. I stared at his entitled face and didn’t move an inch. “There’s no lobster here, and there’s no kitchen for that.” Scarlett wandered around the tiny studio, pinching her nose in disgust. “Julian, this place is so gross and sketchy. The air smells weird.” She walked over to Chloe’s desk, her eyes landing on the paper. “Ooh, what’s this?” She reached out to grab Chloe’s drawing. Like a cat getting its tail stepped on, Chloe violently lunged forward to shield the paper. “Don’t… Don’t touch it!” Chloe’s voice shook with terror. Scarlett gasped, taking a step back and looking at Julian with pouty, tearful eyes. “Julian, I just wanted to look at it. Why is Chloe being so mean to me?” Julian’s face darkened. He walked over and grabbed Chloe by her shoulder. “Chloe, stop being rude.” Scarlett stared at the drawing, a calculating glint in her eyes. “Julian, my art exhibition tomorrow is actually missing a piece of modern abstract art.” “This messy drawing actually fits my theme of ‘Chaos and Order’ perfectly.” She tugged at Julian’s sleeve, whining. Without a second thought, Julian reached down and snatched the drawing right out from under Chloe’s arm. “Be good, Chloe. It’s just a piece of scrap paper.” “Scarlett needs this for her portfolio to get into her dream college. Think of the bigger picture.” “I’ll buy you a strawberry cake later.” Chloe panicked. Lacking the words to express her distress, she desperately reached out to grab it back. “Give it back! It’s mine!” In the struggle, Chloe’s wrist slammed hard against the sharp metal edge of the desk. There was a sickening *thud*. Chloe pulled her hand back, whimpering. The fair skin on the back of her hand instantly swelled up, a dark purple bruise forming at a terrifying speed. She didn’t cry out loud. She just bit her lip raw, tears welling up in her eyes. I rushed over, shielding Chloe behind my back. “Julian, give the drawing back. Now.” I glared at the paper in his hand. Julian handed the drawing to Scarlett and looked at me coldly. “Nina, is this how you raise your sister?” “Scarlett is just borrowing it. She’ll return it.” “A child’s scribble helping Scarlett win an award is a blessing for Chloe.” “Do you really have to make everyone miserable over such a trivial thing?” Scarlett held the drawing, a smug smirk playing on her lips. “Don’t be so stingy, Nina.” “Once I win the prize, maybe I’ll buy Chloe a nice dinner.” Looking at Chloe’s bruised hand, the last bit of warmth in my heart turned into absolute ice. “Get out.” I pointed at the door. Julian’s expression turned icy. “Nina, look at yourself. You’ve become so toxic.” “I brought Scarlett here out of the kindness of my heart, and this is how you treat us?” “You seriously need to fix your attitude.” He took Scarlett’s hand. “Let’s go, Scarlett. Let your sister cool her head first.” The door slammed shut. The room fell into a dead silence. Looking at the empty desk, Chloe finally let her tears fall. “Nina… my drawing…” I knelt down, gently stroking her hair. “Don’t worry, Chloe. I will get it back for you. I promise.” I stood up, pulled out my phone, and opened a hidden data analysis software backup folder. Julian thought it was just a piece of scrap paper. He had no idea that the numbers on that paper recorded the exact timestamps and evidence of Scarlett destroying Chloe’s AP exam prep sheets. I watched the data codes flashing on my screen. All the pain and humiliation I had suffered during this marriage transformed into a freezing, calculated calm. I wasn’t going to yell anymore.

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For five years, Kayden kept me at the center of his world. But when my heart condition worsened and I became a burden in his life, all his tenderness went to a perfectly healthy girl named Cherry. He forgot my fatal allergies, missed my emergency rescues, and was even late to sign my pre-surgery consent forms because he was busy fixing Cherry’s leaking pipes. He always assumed I was trapped on a hospital bed, unable to go anywhere, so he could take his sweet time. But he forgot one thing. When a woman’s heart goes completely cold, she strips away all your privileges. When I crossed his name off my emergency contacts and medical proxy forms, one by one—and when I reclaimed my life under the care of my lead surgeon—the man who was always late finally lost his mind, kneeling in the rain, begging me to look back. The lights in the bridal shop were blindingly bright, making my pale face look even more ghostly. I stood in front of the giant floor-length mirror, draped in a long, trailing lace wedding gown. Beside me, the consultant stood with a tight, awkward smile. “Miss Summer, is Mr. Kayden still not here? The back of this dress really needs his input for the final fit…” I looked down at my phone. The screen was completely blank. Half an hour ago, Kayden had sent me a quick voice note. The background noise was incredibly loud, like he was standing on a busy street. “Summer, the pipes in Cherry’s rented apartment burst, and her landlord is ignoring her. She’s just a girl, sitting in a flooded room crying. I’m going over to help her handle it. Try the dresses on yourself first, okay? Be a good girl.” “Be a good girl.” He always used those words to brush me off. I took a deep breath, and a familiar, sharp pain shot through my chest. It felt like an invisible hand had clamped down hard on my heart. Breathing suddenly became a struggle. “Miss Summer?” The consultant noticed something was wrong and rushed to support me. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness completely. When I woke up, I was on a hospital bed. The sharp smell of bleach burned my nose, and the heart monitor beside my bed beeped rhythmically. The ward door was suddenly pushed open. Kayden rushed in, panting, sweat dripping from his forehead. In his hand, he held a cup of Starbucks. “Summer, you scared the hell out of me! How do you pass out just from trying on a wedding dress?” He walked over to the bed and held the coffee out to me. “I grabbed this on the way. Your favorite, a hazelnut latte. Drink some while it’s hot.” I stared at the steaming cup, making no move to take it. Hazelnut. I have a severe, life-threatening nut allergy. Even a tiny trace would cause my throat to swell, suffocating me. For a heart patient like me, it was a death sentence. The nurse beside the bed gasped and was about to speak, but a well-defined hand reached out and snatched the cup away. “She has a severe nut allergy. Are you trying to put her back in the ICU?” The voice was cold, calm, and carried an undeniable authority. It was my lead surgeon, Dr. Ethan Vance. He was in his white lab coat, his silver name tag gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Kayden froze. He looked at his empty hand, then at Dr. Ethan, and finally at me. A flash of embarrassment crossed his face. “I… I got it mixed up. I bought this one for Cherry. She was so shaken up today and insisted on having something sweet. I just grabbed one for you on the way, I forgot you can’t have nuts.” On the way. Cherry’s apartment was in the far north of the city. The bridal shop was in the south. The hospital was dead center. To comfort a “shaken” female coworker, he had driven across the entire city. Yet, he forgot that his fiancée, who had a severe heart condition, couldn’t touch a single peanut. I looked at him, and suddenly, everything felt incredibly pointless. “Just leave,” I said softly. Kayden frowned. “Summer, what are you throwing a tantrum for now? I told you, I just got the orders mixed up. If it’s that big of a deal, I’ll go buy you another one.” “No need.” I turned over, facing the wall, leaving my back to him. “I want to rest.”

The hospital room fell dead silent. Kayden stood by the bed for a moment and sighed. “Fine, get some sleep. I’ll come back to see you later. Cherry’s place is still a mess, so I need to head back and supervise the plumbers for her.” The door clicked shut. I opened my eyes and stared at the sterile white wall. Dr. Ethan walked to the foot of my bed, flipping through my chart. “Summer, your heart is at its absolute limit. You cannot afford any emotional stress.” “I know, Dr. Ethan.” He closed the file and looked at me, his eyes softening slightly. “We are still waiting on the donor list. Until then, you must keep your emotions stable.” “I will.” He turned to leave, but stopped just before the door. “I’ve noted your nut allergy on your bedside chart. From now on, the nurses will verify any food brought into this room.” “Thank you.” Dr. Ethan didn’t say anything else. He pushed the door open and stepped out. I pulled out my phone and opened SnapChat. The pinned chat at the very top was my conversation with Kayden. The background was a photo of us at the beach two years ago. He was holding me in his arms, laughing under the sun. He had told me back then, *Summer, as long as I’m here, I’ll never let you suffer.* I changed the chat background back to the default plain white. Then, I tapped his profile and opened his location on Snap Map. Three days ago, he had voluntarily shared his live location with me, claiming he wanted to give me “peace of mind.” The little icon was pulsing. It was parked right outside a single-apartment building in the north end of the city. He really did go back to Cherry’s. Does supervising a plumber take all night? I didn’t know. All I knew was that my heart monitor had spiked violently just a moment ago. But very quickly, it settled back into a flat, steady rhythm. Like a pool of stagnant water, it could no longer be stirred. The next morning, my mom arrived. She brought a thermos of hot, homemade chicken soup. As she poured it into a bowl, she sighed. “Kayden called me last night. He said you fainted while trying on dresses and that he was worried sick.” I blew on the soup, keeping my head down. “He also said he wanted to stay here with you, but his department had an urgent project that he couldn’t walk away from. He asked me to come keep you company.” An urgent project. So Cherry’s burst pipe had now officially become a company project. I set the bowl down. “Mom, the soup is delicious.” My mom looked at me, hesitating. “Summer, did you and Kayden get into a fight?” “No.” “Then why…” She paused, lowering her voice. “Back during the Christmas holidays, Mrs. Gable told me she saw Kayden at the mall shopping with a girl. She said the girl was holding his arm, looking very intimate.” Christmas. I was lying in the ICU for three days due to sudden heart failure. Kayden had stood outside the glass window of my ward, took a phone call, and left in a hurry. He told me it was end-of-year billing and he couldn’t get out of it. So, he was actually out buying clothes for someone else. “Her name is Cherry. She’s his coworker,” I said, my voice as calm as if I were talking about a stranger. My mom got anxious. “Coworkers hold hands at the mall? Summer, how can you be so careless about this! With your health the way it is, if Kayden really has someone else…” “Mom,” I interrupted her. “I’m tired. I want to sleep for a bit.” Seeing how pale I was, my mom swallowed the rest of her words. “Alright, go to sleep. I won’t nag. Just focus on getting better, nothing else matters.” She tucked the blanket around me, packed up the thermos, and left.

I was alone in the room again. I opened my phone and scrolled through Instagram. A few posts down, I saw one from Lily, Kayden’s cousin. It was a group photo at Disneyland. It featured Lily, her boyfriend, Kayden, and Cherry. Cherry was wearing Minnie Mouse ears, beaming at the camera, leaning her body naturally against Kayden. Kayden was holding two ice cream cones, looking at her with pure tenderness. The caption read: “Double date weekend! Big bro and sis-in-law treating us!” Sis-in-law. Lily used to reserve that title exclusively for me. Now, it belonged to someone else. I tapped the photo, zoomed in on Kayden’s face. This was the man I had loved for five years. Now, his love belonged to someone else. I calmly closed Instagram. I opened my contacts and searched for Kayden’s name. His contact name used to be “Hubby ❤️”. I deleted the heart. I deleted “Hubby.” I changed it to “Kayden.” Clean and simple, without a single trace of emotion left. At three in the afternoon, Kayden showed up. This time, he didn’t bring coffee. He brought a bouquet of lilies and a box of pre-cut fruit. “Summer, how are you feeling today?” He put the flowers in the bedside vase and pulled up a chair. “Much better,” I said flatly. He poked a piece of apple with a toothpick and held it to my mouth. “Have some fruit. I went to the organic market specifically to get the ones you like.” I didn’t lean in. “I don’t want any.” His hand froze, and he put the apple back in the box. “Summer, are you still mad about yesterday? I really just got confused. Cherry is all alone in this city, and it’s not easy for her. As her senior colleague, it’s only right that I look out for her.” “Yes, it is,” I said, looking at him. “So to look out for her, you can abandon me while I’m trying on our wedding dress.” Kayden’s face darkened. “It wasn’t intentional! The burst pipe was an emergency. I couldn’t just leave her to drown, could I?” “And me?” I looked into his eyes. “I fainted in the bridal shop. Does that not count as an emergency?” Kayden ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “But you’re fine now, aren’t you? The doctor said it was just exhaustion. Summer, you never used to be this unreasonable.” Unreasonable. So, me fighting for my life on a hospital bed was just “unreasonable” to him. His phone buzzed. Kayden glanced at it, and the tension in his face instantly melted, a faint smile playing on his lips. He quickly typed a reply, then flipped the phone face down on his lap. “Summer, something came up at the office. I have to run back. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Kayden,” I called out. He stopped at the door and turned around. “Next Wednesday is my pre-surgery risk assessment. I need a family member to sign the consent forms.” Kayden blinked, then nodded quickly. “Right, I got it. I’ll definitely be here next Wednesday.” He left. His steps were hurried, like he was rushing to a date he had been anticipating all day. I looked at the lilies on the table. I hated lilies. Their scent was too heavy and always made my chest feel congested. But he never remembered. When Dr. Ethan came in for his rounds, he frowned at the flowers. “Take these out and throw them away,” he told the nurse behind him. “For heart patients, strong scents and pollen are major triggers.” The nurse quickly gathered the bouquet and walked out. Dr. Ethan walked to my bedside and looked down at me. “Did he send those?” “Yes.” “Does he not know anything about your condition?” “Probably not.” I forced a smile. “He’s a very busy man.” Dr. Ethan stared at me for a long moment, asking no further questions. “Rest well. For next Wednesday’s assessment, have your mother come.” I was taken aback. “Why?” “Because,” Dr. Ethan’s voice was cold and firm, “I don’t need a medical proxy who can’t even remember your basic allergies deciding whether you live or die.”

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During our three years together, Carter took “going Dutch” to a pathological level. Even when we ordered pizza, he would look at the receipt and deduct the price of the mushrooms I didn’t eat from the total. “Chloe, I’m a professional,” he would say. “Feelings are feelings, but keeping money crystal clear is the only way a relationship lasts.” I used to think he was just naturally rigid. That was until Clara, the girl he grew up with and always called his “little sister,” returned from abroad. On that pouring, stormy night, I was running a 103-degree fever, trying to patch up a leaking window in our apartment by myself. Carter, on the other hand, spent $85,000 on a down payment for a brand-new Porsche just because Clara said she “didn’t want to take an Uber.” He then drove 120 miles through the storm just to grab late-night tacos with her. He didn’t crawl back until noon the next day, looking exhausted. He completely ignored me, even though I had just walked in the door from the ER. Without a word, he tossed the coffee mug I had used for three years straight into the trash can. “Clara is staying with us for a few days,” he said casually. “She’s a germaphobe, and your old mug looks like an eyesore.” “She’s never had a hard day in her life. As the older one here, just let her have her way. I’ll add another $100 to our shared grocery budget this month.” The sound of the ceramic shattering in the trash was deafening. For years, I thought if I just played the role of the perfect, low-maintenance girlfriend, I could finally melt his icy heart. It turned out his heart wasn’t made of ice. It was just that his fire was never meant to burn for me.

“Chloe, do you mind if I sleep in the master bedroom?” Clara stood at the doorway. She hadn’t even stepped inside, but her eyes were already scanning every corner of the room. “Oh, did I come at a bad time? Maybe I should just check into a hotel instead.” Carter pushed her suitcase into the hallway. “What hotel? It’s not safe for a girl like you to stay alone in the city.” He finished speaking, then looked up at me. “Change the sheets in the master bedroom, Chloe. Clara has sensitive skin; she can’t sleep on old linens.” I was still clutching a piece of the shattered ceramic mug in my hand. The sharp edge dug into my palm, making my fingertips go numb. Clara immediately grabbed Carter’s sleeve. “Carter, please don’t make Chloe mad because of me. I can honestly just sleep on the couch.” “You are not sleeping on the couch,” Carter’s voice softened. “Be good. Go take a shower.” I turned around and walked into the master bedroom. The sheets on the bed were pastel blue. When we first moved in years ago, Carter had said this color looked clean. He said it felt like home. As I yanked the sheets off, the picture frame on the nightstand fell to the floor. In the photo, Carter and I were standing on the beach. The wind was howling, and he was blocking the sun for me with his hand. I was laughing so hard my eyes were closed. That was our first year of dating. Back then, if I worked late, he would drive half an hour in the freezing cold just to pick me up. If my stomach hurt, he would stand at the pharmacy counter for an hour, carefully reading the back of every medicine bottle. He would even push the last bite of his warm sandwich to me. “You eat it. I’m not that hungry.” But later, he started talking about how “adults need to be independent.” And eventually, he turned that “independence” into a very dull, slow-cutting knife. I placed the photo face down. Just as I finished tucking in the new sheets, Clara pushed the door open and walked in. “Chloe, please don’t be mad at Carter. He’s just always taken care of me. I was a sickly kid, so it’s just a habit for him.” I said nothing. She walked over to my vanity and picked up my perfume, taking a sniff. “Wow, this scent is so… mature.” I reached out and took it back from her hand. Instantly, Clara’s eyes welled up with tears. Carter happened to walk in at that exact moment. “What’s going on?” Clara shook her head. “Nothing! I think I just accidentally touched Chloe’s things and upset her.” Carter glared at me. “She literally just got here. Is it really necessary to target her like this?” “It’s just a bottle of perfume.” Carter snatched the bottle from my hand and carelessly tossed it into Clara’s hands. “If you like it, keep it.” I had bought that perfume for myself on my birthday last year. When Carter saw the receipt back then, he had lectured me, saying $120 for a bottle of perfume was too luxurious, and made me pay him back my half of the rent early to “balance my budget.” Yet now, he gave it away to Clara without a second thought. The cut in my palm was still oozing blood, staining the glass shard in my hand. I threw the fragment into the trash. Carter glanced down. “What happened to your hand?” “Got cut by some old trash,” I replied flatly. He paused for a second. But in the next second, Clara let out a tiny, delicate cough. Carter immediately turned his back on me. “Is the AC too cold?” He rushed over to adjust the thermostat for her. I looked down at my hand. It turned out that some pain can truly only be felt by yourself. Later that evening, I was moving some of Carter’s work samples out to the balcony when he walked over. “Clara wants that premium truffle pasta from downtown. Come with me to grab it.” I looked up. “Now?” “She has jet lag and can’t sleep.” Carter pointed to some cardboard boxes on the floor. “While we’re out, make sure to carry up that case of spring water from the garage. Clara only drinks that brand.” I let out a cold laugh. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you carry it up yourself?” His face darkened. “What is wrong with you today? Clara is a guest.” I pushed the last box into the corner. “Carter, my fever just broke this morning.” He froze for a fraction of a second, as if he finally remembered my call from the ER last night. But it was only a fraction of a second. “Then stay home and rest. I’ll calculate the venmo request when I get back. We’re getting three portions of pasta, so you’ll pay for yours.” I sat on the floor of the guest room and opened my phone. An email from HR was sitting in my inbox. It was an offer for a transfer to our LA branch. A permanent position, starting next week at the latest. I stared at the screen for a long time. Then, I clicked *Accept*.

“You’re transferring to LA?” Carter had spotted the open email on my laptop. Clara was sitting at the dining table, picking at her truffle pasta. She complained it was too rich, eating only the truffles on top and leaving the rest of the expensive dish to go waste. Carter didn’t say a word about her wasting food. I closed my laptop. “It’s a company directive.” “Since when?” Carter frowned. “Something this big, and you didn’t even consult me?” I looked at him. “You were busy getting pasta.” Clara took a sip from her straw and asked in a small, innocent voice, “Is it because of me, Chloe? Are you leaving because I’m here?” Carter immediately snapped at me. “Stop taking your issues out on Clara.” I hadn’t said a word. She was the one who brought it up. But Carter had already decided that I was just being dramatic. “Go tell your manager tomorrow that you’re declining the transfer,” he ordered. “I can’t.” “Then quit.” He said it so easily. “It’s not like your salary is that high anyway. Just find another basic job here.” Clara tilted her head. “But Chloe is so independent. I doubt she’d want to live off your money, Carter.” As if reminded of my “independence,” Carter’s tone softened slightly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t feel comfortable with you living in a different city alone.” I kept my head down. “I don’t need your permission.” Clara quickly tried to play peacemaker. “Carter, I think Chloe is just sad about leaving you. She’s just saying the opposite of what she actually feels.” Carter’s expression relaxed. He preferred that narrative anyway. The narrative that I was obsessed with him, that I was throwing a tantrum, and that I was just waiting for him to comfort me. For three years, I had indeed been that girl. Every time he gave me the silent treatment, I was the first to apologize. Every time he chose Clara over me, I told myself they were just childhood friends. But “childhood friends” don’t wear my silk slip dress and stand on the balcony, asking him: “Carter, do I look like your girlfriend in this?” That afternoon, I ran back to the apartment to grab some documents. When I pushed the door open, Clara was wearing my white silk slip dress. That was the only gift Carter had ever brought back for me from a business trip last year. Clara hastily covered her chest. “Chloe! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! My clothes were in the wash and weren’t dry yet. Carter said I could borrow something of yours.” “I really didn’t mean anything by it. I can take it off and give it back to you right now!” She reached for the shoulder strap, but Carter immediately caught her hand to stop her. “Don’t do that,” he said. Then, he turned to me. “Chloe, apologize.” I thought my ears were playing tricks on me. “You want *me* to apologize?” He looked dead serious. “You scared her.” “Clara was sheltered growing up. She’s not used to being barked at.” I looked at that white silk dress. I suddenly remembered the day I first got it. I had tried it on for Carter, excited. He had barely spared me a glance. “It’s too revealing. Don’t wear it out.” Since then, that dress had sat at the very bottom of my closet. It turned out the dress wasn’t the problem. The person wearing it was. I slid my documents into my bag. “Keep the dress.” Clara blinked, stunned. “Really?” I looked her dead in the eye. “I don’t like keeping things that other people have already ruined.” Carter’s face went completely cold. He grabbed my wrist. “Step outside. We need to talk.”

Carter dragged me down to the parking garage. The brand-new Porsche was parked in the most prominent spot. Its glossy paint reflected the overhead lights, making my eyes ache. “You’re acting less and less like yourself lately,” Carter sighed, looking exhausted. “You used to be so mature. So cool.” He thought for a second. “You never used to sweat the small stuff with Clara.” Small stuff. My mug was small stuff. My bed was small stuff. My perfume and my dress were all “small stuff.” The moment Clara laid her hands on them, they became insignificant details I was supposed to ignore. I looked at him. “Then tell me, Carter. What *is* big stuff?” Carter fell silent for a moment. “Our future.” When he said those words, his expression was genuinely earnest. If this were a few months ago, my heart would have softened. He always did this—giving me a crumb of false hope right when I was at my breaking point. “We were planning to get engaged by the end of the year. I’ve already been looking at townhouses.” Carter’s voice softened. “If you transfer to LA now, you’re throwing our future away just to throw a tantrum.” I looked at the luxury car behind him. “Whose name will be on the house deed?” His brow twitched. “I’m paying the down payment, so obviously it’ll be in my name first.” “And the renovations?” “We’ll split that 50/50,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Didn’t you always want to design our home?” “And who gets the final say on the design?” Carter was growing impatient. “Clara took some interior design classes. She has great taste. We can just have her help us out.” I laughed out loud. In his “future,” there was his house, my 50% contribution to the renovation bills, and Clara’s taste. There was absolutely no room for me. Carter stared at me, then suddenly spoke up. “I didn’t buy this car *for* Clara.” I stopped in my tracks. Carter seemed to be explaining it to me, but it felt more like he was trying to convince himself. “She just got back to the States and her job situation isn’t stable yet. I’m just letting her borrow it. The title is under my name. It’s not a gift.” “Stop looking at her Instagram and overthinking everything.” I nodded. He looked visibly taken aback. He wasn’t used to my silence. He expected me to argue, to scream, to demand answers. My utter calmness made him uncomfortable. Suddenly, Carter’s phone buzzed. It was Clara. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he answered. He listened to the other end for a second. “I’ll be right up.” After hanging up, he turned to me, back to his usual tone. “Clara has a stomachache. I’m taking her to the urgent care.” He unlocked the Porsche, but stopped before getting in. “Don’t worry about the medical bill this time. I’ll cover it myself. Clara is tight on cash since she just moved back.” I kept my eyes on the concrete floor of the garage. A few months ago, my chronic gastritis flared up so badly I couldn’t even stand up straight. Carter had driven me to the clinic. But at the billing counter, he handed the invoice straight to me. “Pay it first, and we’ll split it on Venmo later.” The bill that day was $237.60. He made me Venmo him exactly $118.80. But now, because Clara had a simple stomachache, he told me “not to worry” because he would cover it himself. I finally understood. He wasn’t incapable of being generous. He just only applied his strict calculations to me. After Carter drove off, I walked out of the garage alone. A light drizzle was falling. My phone buzzed. It was a photo from Clara. Carter was kneeling on the floor in front of her, tying her sneaker laces. *“With my favorite guy here, I have nothing to fear,”* her caption read. I locked my phone. The rain fell on the back of my hand, feeling icy cold. When I got back to the apartment that evening, the living room was packed. Several of Carter’s friends were over. Zach saw me walk in and waved cheerfully. “Hey, Chloe! You’re back just in time. Clara wanted to celebrate her return, so Carter is personally cooking tonight!” On the dining table sat a massive pot of Slow-cooked Beef Bourguignon. It was my absolute favorite dish. Whenever I had begged Carter to make it for us in the past, he always dismissed it, saying it took too much prep work. Clara was sitting at the table, kicking her legs back and forth. “Carter is literally the best cook ever. I used to eat this all the time when we were kids.” One of the guys teased, “Man, Carter, you really spoil your little sister, don’t you?” Carter smiled gently. “She’s a picky eater.” I paused while changing my shoes. Zach seemed to notice something was off. “Hey, Chloe, you look a bit pale. You okay?” Clara immediately chimed in. “Oh, does Chloe not like having people over? I can tell everyone to leave if you want.” Carter set down a fruit platter. “Don’t ruin the mood.” I knew exactly who that comment was directed at. During dinner, Clara took a bite of the beef and frowned slightly. “Hmm, it’s a bit too sour for me.” Carter immediately tasted it. “I’ll add some sugar.” Zach laughed. “Wait, doesn’t Chloe love it on the sour side?” Carter’s hand paused mid-air. Clara lowered her eyes. “Oh… so this is how Chloe likes it? Then don’t change it. I’ll just eat less.” Carter picked up the pot and headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll make a fresh batch.” I stared at the piece of beef in my bowl. It was steaming hot. But suddenly, I couldn’t swallow a single bite.

By the time the second batch of beef was served, it was so sweet it was nauseating. Clara smiled and showed everyone her phone. “Look, guys! This is the car Carter got me. Isn’t it gorgeous?” She swiped through her camera roll. Photos of the car, designer bags, diamond necklaces, expensive dinners, and a shot of Carter’s back as he swiped his black card at a jewelry counter. Someone let out a low whistle. “Damn, Carter. Generous much?” Carter leaned back in his chair, his tone casual. “She just got back to the country. She needed a lot of essentials.” Zach instinctively looked at me. “Man, then Carter must treat you like a queen, Chloe.” Clara blinked innocently, acting like she didn’t get the hint. “Oh, what did Carter get you for your birthday, Chloe?” Before I could say anything, Carter answered for me. “Chloe doesn’t like wasting money on useless things.” He said it so naturally. As if I was born to not deserve nice things. For my birthday last year, he gave me a free one-day gym pass. It was a voucher he had won at his company’s holiday raffle. At the time, I had hugged him, thanked him sincerely, and felt happy for days. Clara covered her mouth with a soft gasp. “Wow, Chloe, you’re so thrifty! Unlike me, I’m always spending Carter’s money.” Carter gave her a playful look. “As long as you know. Stop buying useless junk from now on.” His tone sounded like a lecture, but his eyes were filled with warmth. I got up to clear the dishes. Clara suddenly followed me into the kitchen. “Chloe, do you absolutely hate me?” I turned on the faucet. “You’re overthinking.” “But Carter used to care about me the most,” she smiled, her sweet demeanor vanishing instantly under the rush of the water. “I was only gone for a few years. Did you honestly think he belonged to you?” The sound of running water drowned out the laughter from the living room. “You know that white silk dress? I wore it on purpose,” Clara whispered. “And your perfume? I took it on purpose, too.” “I just wanted to see how much you actually matter to him.” I turned off the tap. “And what did you find out?” She gave a light, mocking laugh. “Honestly? Not much.” In the next second, she grabbed a bowl of hot soup sitting on the counter and poured a splash of it directly onto the back of her own hand. The bowl shattered on the floor, and she let out a piercing scream. By the time Carter rushed into the kitchen, Clara was already shaking and sobbing violently. “Chloe… I just wanted to help wash the dishes… why did you push me?” Without a single moment of hesitation, Carter violently shoved me away from the kitchen door. “Chloe! Are you out of your mind?!” I looked at him. “I didn’t push her.” Clara clung to his chest, the back of her hand turning bright red. “Carter, it’s okay… maybe Chloe didn’t mean to do it.” “Shut up,” Carter said coldly. I thought he was talking to Clara. But in the next second, his cold gaze locked onto me. “Apologize.” Another apology. I suddenly realized how familiar those words were. For three years, I had been constantly apologizing. Apologizing for buying shoes that were “too expensive.” Apologizing for getting sick and “distracting him from his work.” Apologizing for not being “cool” enough, “understanding” enough, or “independent” enough. And now, I was expected to apologize for a bowl of soup she had poured on herself. This time, I wasn’t backing down. “I won’t apologize.” Carter’s face went completely dark. The guests in the living room had all stood up, feeling the tension. Zach stepped in, trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, Carter, maybe we should check the camera first? Didn’t you put a security cam in the kitchen?” We had a camera in the kitchen because Carter was always paranoid I’d forget to turn off the stove. I looked at Carter. “Yes, check the footage.” Clara’s sobbing paused for a split second. Carter knew the camera was there, but he didn’t reach for his phone. Instead, he avoided my eyes and said in a harsh, rigid voice, “Enough.” “We have guests over. Do you really have to make a scene and embarrass everyone?” Zach frowned. “Carter, checking the app takes two seconds. It’ll clear things up.” Carter dismissed him coldly. “Clara’s hand is already burned. Does it really matter who’s right or wrong at this point?” I stared at him. So, whether the truth mattered or not depended entirely on *who* was hurt. Clara sobbed, “I don’t want to make things difficult for Chloe. We don’t need to watch it.” Carter wrapped his jacket around her shoulders. “I’m taking you to the hospital.” At the door, he stopped and threw a cold look back at me. “Chloe, if Clara ends up with a scar on her hand, we are not done.” The door slammed shut. The apartment was left in a messy silence, under the awkward gazes of his friends. Zach wanted to say something, but in the end, he just let out a heavy sigh. “Chloe… don’t take it to heart. Carter is just… really protective of Clara.” I bent down and picked up the shattered ceramic pieces from the floor. This time, the glass didn’t cut me. Because I was wearing gloves. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was an email from the LA office. *“Hi Chloe, your transfer paperwork has been fast-tracked and approved. Your start date is tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM.”* I replied instantly. Then, in a corner where no one was looking, I quietly packed my suitcase. Go spend the rest of your life with your 50/50 calculations, Carter. I am done.

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Julian and I are immortals. On the night of our one-hundredth anniversary, he suggested we play Truth or Dare. I lost. “Dare! Come on, what do you want me to do?” Julian looked at me, his voice flat and calm. “Eve, let’s take a break. For a hundred years.” I froze. He gave me a helpless, indulgent smile, the kind he always used when I was being stubborn. “There’s this girl. She’s been chasing me for three or four years. She’s incredibly persistent, and I don’t want to break her heart. So, I agreed to be with her.” “And what about me?” My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that they drew blood. He brushed it off like it was nothing. “Mortals only live for about a century anyway. Once she’s gone, I’ll come back to you.” “Besides, she’s pregnant. You’ve always loved kids. When the baby is born, you can be the godmother. Isn’t that perfect?” The sheets beneath us still bore the messy creases of our recent intimacy. I let out a bitter, hollow laugh. He had no idea. Monsters like us are completely sterile. We can never conceive. 1 “When did you sleep with her?” My voice shook. Julian raised an eyebrow. “Which time?” It felt like a cold hand had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart to pieces. I gripped the white sheets, twisting the fabric until my knuckles turned white. Julian chuckled softly. He casually tugged open his collar. On his collarbone were two distinct, fresh bite marks. I never had the habit of biting him. Julian gently traced the marks, a look of lingering satisfaction on his face. “Too many times to count, honestly.” “She kept saying she wanted to be with me for the rest of her life. You have no idea how beautiful she looked when she was trying to hold back her tears.” “I just couldn’t resist.” A wave of intense nausea hit me. The thought of him touching me after being with someone else made my stomach wrench. I bolted to the bathroom, throwing up until my throat burned. Julian’s voice drifted in from the bedroom, cold and mocking. “Why are you acting so disgusted?” “She’s only twenty. You’re over a hundred and twenty, Eve. If anyone should be disgusted, it’s her.” I snapped my head up, my eyes bloodshot as I glared at him. Being immortal was my ultimate nightmare. Mortals envied our eternal youth, but they didn’t know the price. No family, no friends, constantly running, constantly hiding. Living like sewer rats. I used to have Julian by my side to survive it. But now, I wouldn’t even have him. I took two steps back, my voice incredibly raspy. “Julian, we’re done. Officially.” He assumed I was agreeing to his “hundred-year break” proposal. His tense face instantly relaxed. “That’s my girl.” He reached out to hug me, but I flinched away. “I’m not waiting a hundred years for you,” I said. “We are over. Forever.” Julian let out an annoyed sigh. He reached over and patted my head patronizingly, like he was soothing a pet. “Eve, stop playing games.” “You only survive in this world because of me. With your terrible disguise skills, you would’ve been dragged into some underground lab for experiments a long time ago.” His eyes drifted to the dense scars on my arms from old needle marks. “Have you forgotten what they did to you back then?” My chest tightened, and I quickly covered my arm. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. Julian and I were both products of a failed immortality experiment. Exactly a hundred years ago today, I was strapped down to a freezing metal operating table. I couldn’t move. I could only watch as a strange, glowing blue-green serum was injected into my veins. My body swelled up like raw dough. Even moving a finger was agonizing. I thought I was going to die. Until a massive, roaring fire swept through the facility, burning everything to ashes. The lab became a graveyard of concrete and steel. A young Julian had carried me out on his back, walking one painful step at a time under the setting sun. He had whispered: “Don’t be scared, Eve. I burned all the bad guys!” “From now on, you’re with me. I’ll protect you forever!” The boy’s promise felt so real back then. But “forever” turned out to be far too long… A loud crack of thunder shattered my thoughts. Outside, a heavy storm had begun to rage. Julian’s expression suddenly changed. He stopped arguing with me, grabbed his phone, and bolted for the door. I grabbed his sleeve. Seeing my tear-stained face, Julian hesitated for a brief second. A flash of guilt crossed his eyes. But then, he peeled my fingers off his arm, one by one. He broke my last shred of hope. Julian gave me a helpless smile and kissed the corner of my lips. “She’s not like you, Eve. She’s fragile. She’s terrified of thunderstorms and she’ll cry if she’s left alone.” “Use this time to calm down. We’ve been together for a century. You can’t just throw that away.” Bang— The door slammed shut in my face. Hot tears spilled from my eyes, dripping onto the floor, mimicking the sound of the rain outside. I stood there for a long time. Then, I reached for the doorknob. 2 I left the villa behind. The rain was pouring hard. I struggled to hold my umbrella against the wind as I walked down the street. I didn’t even know why I was following him. Maybe it was just habit. Or maybe it was sheer denial. As I turned the corner of the block, my heart stopped. Under the awning of the local diner we always visited, Julian had Chloe pinned against the brick wall, kissing her passionately. They were kissing so deeply, oblivious to the storm. I could hear their heavy, breathless whispers. “It’s pouring outside. Why did you run out? Do you know how dangerous that is?” I instinctively spoke up. “I—” But a weak, tearful voice cut me off. “I don’t care! Why were you at her place instead of being with me?” “You promised you’d never see her again. You lied to me…” Chloe sobbed, looking incredibly fragile and hurt. Julian, who rarely lost his cool, panicked. He awkwardly wiped away her tears. I gripped the handle of my umbrella. My heart ached with a dull, throbbing pain. So, those worried words he said earlier weren’t meant for me at all. After ten minutes of their passionate makeup session, Julian finally let go of her lips, his hand resting on her waist. As he turned, our eyes met. Before I could say a word, Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears. She pretended to hide behind him, but then glared at me defiantly. “Babe, Julian already broke up with you. Keep your distance!” “Otherwise, I’ll tell everyone you’re a homewrecker!” So, she knew who I was. I stared at her pretty, innocent-looking face, and everything clicked. Her name was Chloe, and her family owned this diner. She usually helped out here. I couldn’t eat spicy food, but Julian loved it. So, I had endured stomach aches just to accompany him here, week after week. And while I was suffering from heartburn, these two were secretly messing around behind my back. I forced a bitter smile. Julian looked slightly uncomfortable. “Eve, look…” He made a move to come over to soothe me, but before he could take a step, Chloe shoved him back. She sobbed dramatically: “Fine! Go to her then! Go to your side chick!” “You two are the real soulmates. I’ll just leave!” “And the baby… you can forget about the baby too!” With that, Chloe turned and ran into the pouring rain. She looked so weak, yet so dramatic. Julian panicked, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back into his embrace. He began to coax her endlessly. “Babe, don’t say such stupid things.” “You’re the only one I love. I’ve been bored of Eve for years. She doesn’t compare to you.” “Fine,” Chloe pouted proudly, pointing a finger at me. “Then tell her to get lost!” Julian looked over at me, his gentle expression instantly turning into irritation. He said coldly, “Eve, go home.” The rain was freezing, splashing against my skin. It was impossible to seek shelter here anymore. I bit my lip and opened my umbrella to leave. But Chloe grabbed my hand, tilting her head with a sweet, mocking smile. “Hey, I don’t have an umbrella. Can I have yours?” 3 Julian stood silently behind Chloe, doing nothing. His silence was his consent. I was shaking all over. I violently shook Chloe’s hand off, turned around, and walked away. But Julian finally moved. He leaned in close to my ear, his voice dropping into a threatening whisper. “Eve, you’re an immortal. Your body can handle a little rain.” “But Chloe is different. She’ll get sick.” “Be mature for once. Stop throwing a tantrum.” I let out a cold laugh. The man who once swore to protect me from every storm in the world was officially dead to me. I slowly lowered my umbrella, dropped it on the ground, and walked straight into the heavy rain. As if things couldn’t get worse. Just as I walked a few yards away, a car lost control on the slick road and sped straight toward me. Crash— I couldn’t dodge in time. I was thrown into the air and slammed hard onto the asphalt. Julian seemed to realize something was wrong and looked over. A pool of bright red blood began to spread on the dark road. I lay there alone, like a broken doll. Lifeless. Julian took a step toward me, his lips tight. But the next second, Chloe covered his eyes from behind. She whispered seductively in his ear, “Babe, I’m wearing that thing you like tonight.” “The white lace one…” Julian’s response was swallowed by another kiss. In his mind, it didn’t matter. An immortal wouldn’t die anyway. Why care if she got hit by a car? Chloe smiled with pure satisfaction. My body felt shattered. Unbearable pain tore through me, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. Even though immortals don’t die, we are still human. We still feel pain. As the sound of their soft whispers faded, my heart died. The panicked driver ran out of the car, his knees shaking, trying to call 91

I struggled to crawl up. I stopped him. If the police got involved, my fake identity would be exposed. Under the terrified gaze of the driver, I limped away into the dark. I didn’t know how long I walked. By the time the rain stopped and the sun came up, the streets were getting crowded. People pointed and whispered: “Oh my god, look at her. She’s covered in blood!” “Her clothes are a mess. Did she get beat up by some wife for sleeping with her husband?” “Probably got kicked out of some guy’s house, haha…” By the time I regained my senses, I was inside a hospital. The doctors and nurses were horrified by the blood, but after a quick examination, they looked even more shocked. “This makes no sense… why don’t you have any actual wounds?” I froze. I was so out of it that I forgot my body heals itself instantly. I dragged my exhausted body back to the villa, only to run into the happy couple at the entrance. I accidentally bumped into Chloe. Before I could even apologize, Julian shoved me hard. I fell to the cold ground, my head spinning. A familiar voice sounded, filled with uncertainty. “Eve?” My heart sank. Predictably, Chloe’s mockery followed immediately. “Are you kidding me? Is this actually Eve?” She walked around my disheveled self, looking at me like I was a piece of trash. “How did you turn into a homeless dog overnight?” “How pathetic.” I struggled to stand up. “I don’t need your pity!” I gritted my teeth and swung a hand to slap her, but Julian caught my wrist mid-air. He glared at me, his grip so tight I could hear my bones pop. He shielded Chloe behind his back. A lump formed in my throat. My mind flashed back to the summer when I was twenty. In a dark alley, Julian had easily taken down a creep who was harassing me, slamming the guy’s face against the brick wall. “Apologize to her,” Julian had snarled. The creep had begged for mercy, kneeling and bowing. I had laughed and asked Julian, “Hey, why are you so good to me?” The young boy’s face had turned bright red. “Because… you’re my family.” “Just family?” He had nodded, then shook his head, completely flustered. I still remembered how cute and innocent he was back then. Chloe let out a dramatic gasp, her eyes turning red as she squeezed out a few tears. Julian’s voice was ice-cold. “Apologize.” I kept my mouth shut. Chloe bit her lip, acting terrified. “Babe, it’s fine if she doesn’t want to.” “I… I’m okay…” She shed a couple of perfect tears. Julian’s frown deepened. He held a medical report in one hand and used his other hand to force my head down, forcing me to bow to Chloe. “Apologize to her. Don’t make me say it again!” 4 During the struggle, the paper in Julian’s hand fell to the ground. My breath hitched. The report read: *Pregnant, six weeks.* No wonder. No wonder he was acting like this. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Chloe smirked. “What was that? Speak up, I can’t hear you.” My head was forced lower, my vision blurring. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bumped into you.” “It was my fault.” “I was wrong.” Chloe looked satisfied. Julian finally released his grip on the back of my head. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up, and scoffed. “Why are you crying?” Was I crying? I wiped my face and felt the cold moisture on my fingers. Julian picked up the report, rubbing his temples in frustration. “You see this? Chloe is actually pregnant.” “This baby is a miracle. You need to stop picking fights with her.” “I know you love kids. I can convince Chloe to let you be the godmother. That way, your dream can come true too.” Chloe pouted. “No way.” Julian smiled indulgently, stroking her hair. “Fine, fine. I’m just saying it to quiet her down. Our baby belongs only to us.” They walked past me, hand-in-hand, leaving me alone in the empty hospital lobby to be swallowed by the whispers of strangers. Julian was wrong. I was never the one who wanted kids. He was. He craved a family more than anything. Over the decades, I had seen him stare longingly at children playing in the park. What was he thinking back then? Probably that I was broken because I couldn’t give him a child. But he was wrong. It wasn’t just me who was sterile. His resentment had built up over the years, forming a bitter knot in his heart. And I had been too blind to see it. Lost in thought, I walked aimlessly until I stopped in front of a run-down brick apartment building in the old industrial district. This was the very first place we bought together. The furniture inside was exactly as it was decades ago, covered in a thick layer of dust. I washed off the dried blood and changed into my favorite bright red dress. I stood in front of the mirror. My reflection was still youthful, looking exactly the same as it did a hundred years ago. For a second, I saw Julian hugging me from behind in the reflection, burying his face in my neck. “Eve, what’s for dinner tonight?” I had asked him back then, “I didn’t have a name before. Why did you call me Eve?” He had laughed softly against my shoulder. “Heh, it’s a secret.” I smiled at the memory, but the smile quickly faded. I picked up a decayed wooden box from the closet and walked out without looking back. My phone buzzed twice. It was a text from Julian. [Bring the keys of the villa back. Chloe wants them.] [I’m busy right now, so she’s waiting for you at the gate. Don’t make her wait.] How efficient. In just two days, a person could change so completely. It made me feel like a century had passed in a flash. I sighed. I needed to give him the wooden box anyway, so I might as well go. When I arrived, the entrance of the villa was blocked by moving trucks. Chloe’s belongings were being carried inside, filling up every corner. Meanwhile, my clothes, shoes, and personal items were tossed onto the muddy driveway like actual trash. I clenched my fists, shaking with anger. “What right do you have to throw my things away?” Chloe looked down at me from the porch. With Julian gone, she didn’t bother pretending anymore. She sneered: “I threw them out. What are you going to do about it? Hit me?” She picked up one of my silk nightgowns with two fingers, pinched her nose in disgust, dropped it in the mud, and ground her heel into it. I stepped toward her, suppressing my rage. “Stop right there.” 5 Chloe didn’t look scared at all. Instead, she whipped out a yellowed notebook and waved it in front of me. The sun was hot, but I felt a sudden chill run down my spine. She smiled maliciously. “So, immortals really do exist.” “Eve, guess what will happen if I turn this journal over to the authorities?” My mind went completely blank. I looked at her, silently begging. Chloe’s grin widened. She pointed her manicured finger at the muddy nightgown on the ground. “Put it on, and I’ll keep your little secret.” The nightgown was so filthy you couldn’t even see its original color. I slowly bent down. My hands shook as I picked it up and walked toward the house. “Where do you think you’re going?” Chloe grabbed my shoulder, pointing at the driveway. “I want you to change right here.” What…? I stared at her in disbelief. This was outside the villa. There were dozens of moving guys walking back and forth, their vulgar gazes already lingering on me. Chloe’s voice was cold. “You have two minutes, or I’m calling the cops.” I gripped the dirty fabric. My head spun, and memories of being strapped to that cold operating table flashed before my eyes. Trembling, I began to unzip my dress. I let it slide down. Chloe immediately pulled out her phone. The sound of her camera clicking and her cruel laughter filled my ears. My face was completely pale. I barely registered what was happening. “Are you happy now?” I whispered. Chloe smirked. With pure malice, she said, “I lied. I’m posting this video online right now.” My eyes flared with anger. I lunged forward and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her violently. “You—” “Ah!” Two voices sounded at once. Chloe suddenly fell backward onto the ground, clutching her stomach in agony. I stood there, stunned. Just then, Julian’s car screeched to a halt. He sprinted over and knelt beside Chloe. He tried to lift her, but his hands were instantly covered in bright red blood. She was miscarrying?! Julian roared in fury, glaring at me like a wild beast. I panicked. “No… it wasn’t me…” “She fell on purpose! I only shook her!” Julian’s face was terrifyingly dark. He stood up, towering over me. “You’re saying she framed you?” “Would she kill her own baby just to frame you?!” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. He already believed I was a murderer. Nothing I said would matter. Chloe sobbed in pain. Julian gently lifted her into his arms, comforting her. “Don’t cry, babe. It’s going to be okay.” “I called 911. They’re coming. Don’t be scared.” My heart went completely cold. There was a time when I was terrified of being discovered, and Julian would wrap his arms tightly around me, whispering: “Don’t be scared, Eve.” “I’m here. I’ll always be here.” “I won’t let anyone find out your secret, even if it kills me.” But those days were long gone. Chloe pointed a trembling finger at me, screaming through her tears. “Julian! She killed our baby!” “Call the cops! I want her to pay! I want her in jail!” Julian stiffened slightly. His voice sounded strained. “Chloe, let’s get you to the hospital first. I’ll make her apologize later.” “But calling the police… let’s not do that.” Chloe’s eyes widened in outrage. “Julian! I’ve been with you since high school! How can you protect her?!” She struggled out of his arms, grabbed a fallen pocketknife from the ground, and pressed it against her own throat. “Either she goes to jail, or I die right here!” Blood began to bead at the tip of the blade. Julian looked lost for a moment. He stared at me, his eyes filled with a complicated darkness. Eventually, he took the knife from her hand. The wail of police sirens echoed from down the street. I suddenly burst out laughing. Like a madwoman, I began smashing everything around me. Even the old wooden box was shattered into pieces. The officers rushed in and immediately pinned me down. Before they threw me into the back of the police car, I looked back at Julian. I was completely calm. “Julian, you are so incredibly stupid.” “Pathetic.” Julian froze. His eyes fell on the papers that had slid out of the shattered wooden box. As he read the bold letters on the top sheet, his pupils shrunk to the size of needles.

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The hemp rope cut brutally into the back of my neck, the stinging pain finally bringing me back to reality. My former fiancée, the woman who once swore she would marry no one but me, had tied me up in an underground VIP gambling parlor. She was using me as a living dartboard target, all for the sake of her precious childhood sweetheart. Ten razor-sharp throwing knives grazed my skin and slammed into the hardwood board behind me. Blood slowly seeped down the wood grain. She stood right beside the dartboard, looking down at me. Her voice was as cold as poison. “Ethan Reed, you owe this to Christian. Your mother stole his father’s life-saving donor heart back then. It’s only fair you pay it back with your life.” I grit my teeth, refusing to make a sound. She had promised me that if I survived these ten knives, she would pay the overdue medical bills for my little sister in the ICU. She had no idea that when the truth finally came out, it would completely break her. Back then, it was my mother who had willingly signed the donor agreement to save Christian’s father. My mother didn’t steal anything. In fact, she was framed by the Cole family while trying to protect the original agreement, and she died miserably in a prison cell. Years later, Serena found my sister’s grave. She knelt before the tombstone, slapping her own face repeatedly until her cheeks bled. I stood by the roadside, glanced at her coldly for a brief second, and turned around to link arms with the person beside me. I wouldn’t give her even a shred of forgiveness.

The air in the underground gambling parlor was thick with the sickening stench of copper blood and cheap cigars. I was bound tightly to a massive wooden spinning wheel. “Ms. Vance, are we really going this far?” a rich playboy next to her asked, rubbing his hands together with a cruel, excited gleam in his eyes. Serena Vance sat in the center of the room on a plush leather sofa. Her long legs were crossed, and she was casually flipping a gleaming, silver throwing knife in her hand. Christian Cole sat right beside her. His face was pale, but a smug, barely noticeable smirk played at the corner of his lips. “Serena, let’s forget it. Ethan looks like he’s already hurt pretty badly. It’d be bad if something actually happened to him.” Serena let out a cold laugh, her gaze sweeping over my face like a blade. “A killer’s son? Since when does he deserve pity?” She stood up and walked to a spot about fifteen feet away from me. “Ten knives, Ethan. As long as they don’t hit your vitals, I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars for each one.” “Finish all ten, and you get a million. That should be enough to cover your sick little sister’s surgery and ICU bills.” My dry, cracked lips parted. “Deal.” No hesitation. No begging. A flash of sheer violence crossed Serena’s eyes. Three years ago, I was the pampered young heir of the Reed family whom she held in the palm of her hand. Now, I was just a broken piece of trash who would discard his life for money. She flicked her wrist. *Whoosh—* The first knife grazed my cheek, slicing off a few strands of my hair before thudding deeply into the wooden board right next to my ear. The coldness of the blade sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t blink. “One hundred thousand,” I said, my voice completely flat. Serena clenched her jaw so hard her facial muscles tensed. The second knife grazed my neck. The third knife brushed past my waist. Each throw carried the sound of tearing wind, packed with her desire to tear me into a thousand pieces. The crowd around us erupted into cheers. I kept my eyes locked onto Serena’s. Those eyes, which used to be filled with deep affection, now held nothing but disgust and sadistic pleasure. As the eighth knife was about to fly, Christian suddenly gasped. Pretending to lose his balance, he bumped hard against Serena’s arm. The trajectory of the knife shifted. *Squelch.* The blade sank straight into my left shoulder. Blood erupted instantly, soaking through my faded, washed-out white shirt. An agonizing pain ripped through my nerves. I let out a muffled groan, cold sweat immediately drenching my back. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Ethan! It was an accident!” Christian gasped, covering his mouth, but his eyes were dripping with pure malice. Serena froze. Looking at the blood gushing from my shoulder, the hand holding the remaining two knives trembled slightly. But she quickly masked her reaction, looking at me coldly. “Does it hurt?” “When your mother bribed the doctor and snatched the heart meant for Christian’s father, Christian felt ten thousand times worse than this.” “Sins of the mother, paid by the son. You deserve every bit of this.” I looked at her and forced a pale, blood-stained smile. “Ms. Vance, does this knife count? If it does, that makes it eight hundred thousand.” Serena stared at the smirk on my lips, the rims of her eyes turning a furious red. She suddenly slammed the remaining two knives onto the floor. “Ethan Reed! Do you get off on degrading yourself like this?!” Tied to the board, my blood dripped slowly from my fingertips onto the floor. “Ms. Vance, if I don’t degrade myself, my sister dies.” “Give me the money.”

The air in the private lounge froze instantly. Serena stared at me, her chest heaving violently. She strode over and grabbed my collar, pulling it so hard she nearly ripped my shirt apart. “Are you really that desperate for money? To the point of throwing away your dignity?” Forced to look up, I met her furious gaze. “Can dignity pay for my sister’s life?” “If it can, Ms. Vance, give me a price. I’ll sell it to you by the pound.” Serena’s pupils dilated. She let go of me instantly, as if she had been burned. “Get him down,” she ordered the bodyguards, her voice sounding raspy. The moment the ropes were untied, my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. The wound on my left shoulder was still bleeding, staining the expensive carpet. Serena pulled out a checkbook, quickly scribbled a check for one million dollars, and walked over to me. She didn’t hand it to me. Instead, she let it go. The check fluttered down, landing right in an ashtray filled with sharp, broken glass shards. “Get it yourself,” she said, looking down at me from above. I didn’t say a word. Pushing myself up from the floor, I reached out my right hand and shoved it directly into the ashtray. The sharp glass sliced into my fingers. Blood and ash mixed together instantly. But I felt the paper. I gripped the check tightly in my fist. “Thank you for the charity, Ms. Vance.” Struggling to stay upright, I clutched my bleeding shoulder and took slow steps toward the exit. “Hold on,” Christian suddenly spoke up. He stood up and walked over to block my path, a sneer on his face. “Ethan, you got your dirty blood all over Serena’s carpet. Do you really think you can just walk away?” “Get on your knees and clean the carpet.” I stopped and looked back at Serena. She stood in the shadows, making no attempt to stop him. She was allowing it. I looked down at the blood-stained check in my hand. One million dollars. My sister Lily was waiting for this money in the ICU to stay alive. I closed my eyes, and my knees slowly began to bend. Just as my knees were about to hit the floor, the heavy door of the VIP lounge was kicked open with a loud bang. Fiona Sterling strode in, wearing a long black trench coat, carrying the cold wind of the storm with her. She immediately saw me swaying on my feet, and the shocking amount of blood on my shoulder. “Ethan!” Fiona rushed over, catching me before I fell, and pressed her trench coat against my bleeding shoulder to stop the bleeding. She spun around, glaring at Serena with eyes like daggers. “Serena Vance, do you even have a soul?!” Seeing Fiona holding me, Serena’s eyes turned to ice instantly. “Fiona, this is a private matter between Ethan and me. It’s none of your business.” “Private?” Fiona sneered. “You mutilated him! This is aggravated assault! Ethan, let’s go. We’re calling the cops.” I grabbed Fiona’s arm and shook my head weakly. “Fiona, please… take me to the hospital.” “My sister is waiting.” I couldn’t call the police. If the police got involved, Serena had a hundred ways to make sure that check got frozen, and I would never see a single dime. Fiona looked at my pale face, a flash of deep heartache in her eyes. She wrapped my arm around her shoulder and helped me walk out. “Ethan Reed! If you walk out that door with her tonight, you won’t get a single penny of this money!” Serena’s furious voice roared from behind us. Leaning against Fiona, I didn’t look back. “Ms. Vance, I already have the check.” “The transaction is complete. We owe each other nothing.”

It was pouring rain outside. Fiona helped me into her car, slammed her foot on the gas, and sped toward the municipal hospital. The heater was blasting, but I was still shivering violently, my body freezing. The wound on my left shoulder had gone completely numb. I gripped the check like it was my sister’s very last breath. “Ethan, are you insane? She wanted to use you as a dartboard and you just let her?” Fiona yelled as she drove, her voice trembling with suppressed tears. I stared out the window at the blurred city lights. “Fiona, I had no choice.” “The hospital gave me a final ultimatum. If I didn’t pay the overdue bills tonight, they would take Lily off the ventilator.” “My mother already died in prison. I can’t lose Lily too.” Fiona slammed her hand against the steering wheel, her eyes rimmed with red. “I told you I was getting the money together! Why won’t you just take my money?!” “Because I can never pay you back,” I said softly. Three years ago, when the Reed family went bankrupt and my mother was imprisoned, everyone avoided me like the plague. Only Fiona, a poor student I had once sponsored who was now a brilliant elite lawyer, braved Serena’s heavy suppression to help me in any way she could. I already owed her far too much. The car screeched to a halt in front of the hospital lobby. I pushed the door open and stumbled inside. “Nurse! I have the money! One million! Set up my sister’s surgery right now!” I rushed to the billing window and slammed the blood-stained check against the glass. The night nurse took one look at the check, then at my bloody clothes, and gasped in shock. She quickly took the check to verify it. A few minutes later, she walked back, her expression incredibly grim. “Mr. Reed… this check has been frozen.” My brain went completely blank. “What? That’s impossible! That’s a Vance Corporation corporate check!” “The bank just notified us. The issuer has canceled the payment order,” the nurse said, looking at me with pity. Serena Vance. It was her. She really was never going to let me go. All the strength left my body in an instant. I slid down the cold wall, collapsing onto the floor. “Ethan!” Fiona rushed over to support me. I grabbed Fiona’s arm, my teeth clattering. “Fiona… she stopped the payment… she stopped the check…” “What about Lily? What is going to happen to Lily?!” Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a voice message on Snapchat from Christian. With trembling fingers, I tapped it. “Ethan, Serena says if you want the money, crawl back to the Vance mansion.” “Start from the front gates, and beg on your knees all the way to the living room.” “If you beg loud enough, she’ll release the million dollars immediately.” In the background of the voice message, I could hear Serena’s cold, uncaring chuckle. I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. “Ethan, don’t go! I’ll call some people right now to get a loan!” Fiona tried to snatch the phone from my hand. I pushed her away gently and stood up, leaning against the wall. “There’s no time.” “Fiona, watch over Lily for me.” I turned and ran straight into the pouring rain.

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On Christmas Eve, I drove six hours through sleet to surprise my fiancé. By the time I reached Logan Pierce’s penthouse, my hands were raw from carrying grocery bags, my boots were wet, and the city below his windows was glowing with Christmas lights. His doorman knew me. His spare key still worked. That was how stupid I was. I let myself in, took off my coat, and spent three hours cooking the Christmas dinner I had imagined us eating together before we called our families on video and told them we were finally ready to announce the engagement date. Roast chicken with rosemary butter. Garlic mashed potatoes. Cranberry sauce from scratch. A chocolate cake cooling by the sink. I even wrapped his gift and placed it under the tree: a vintage watch strap he had once mentioned for half a second and forgotten. I remembered everything Logan forgot. While the gravy simmered, I checked my phone. A post had gone viral on Threads. How do you know a man is obsessed with you? The top answer was from a girl with a soft-focus profile picture and a Christmas tree emoji in her bio. He told his family he had an emergency board call tonight because I couldn’t stand spending Christmas Eve alone. My fingers stopped moving. She continued. He was supposed to get engaged to his girlfriend this holiday, but I said I wasn’t ready to watch him choose her, so he postponed it. He remembers my coffee order, my birthday, my favorite Christmas song. He even made the passenger seat of his car mine. The kitchen went quiet except for the low hiss of the stove. Logan had told me he couldn’t come home for Christmas because of an emergency board call. Logan had postponed our engagement announcement two weeks ago. Someone replied: Girl, that sounds like being the other woman. The girl answered with a laughing emoji. The woman he doesn’t love is the other woman. He told me his fiancée is only a responsibility. I get the man. She gets the title. Then another line appeared. We’re going to look at Christmas lights now. The attached photo showed half of a man’s face under gold string lights. Sharp jaw. Straight nose. Black wool coat. A hand resting on the steering wheel. On his ring finger was the platinum band I had given Logan on our third anniversary. The same ring he said made him feel “already married.” I enlarged the picture until the pixels broke apart. Then I shrank it. Then enlarged it again. I tried to believe another man in this city had Logan’s jaw, Logan’s coat, Logan’s ring, and Logan’s habit of resting his thumb on the wheel like he owned the road. Then the girl posted a second photo. Two hands intertwined over a cashmere blanket. His watch was visible. So was the bracelet I had bought him last Christmas. My stomach dropped. I called Logan. The phone rang for almost a full minute before he answered. In the background, Christmas music played. A woman’s laugh slipped through before he moved away from it. “Ava?” Logan’s voice was warm. Too warm. “What’s wrong?” I looked at the dinner I had made. “Where are you?” “At the office,” he said smoothly. “I told you. Board call.” If I hadn’t seen the post, I would have believed him. That was the worst part. “I’m at your place,” I said. The silence on his end lasted long enough to kill five years. Then he said, “Stay there. I’m coming.” He came back thirty-two minutes later. He did not come alone. The woman beside him had glossy lips, soft brown hair, and a cream coat that looked expensive but useless against the cold. Her cheeks were pink, her earrings were tiny gold stars, and his scarf was wrapped around her throat. I knew her. Sienna Cole. Logan’s assistant. She had drifted through enough of our video calls to become familiar. Always in the background. Always carrying coffee. Always smiling at him like she had a secret key to a room I didn’t know existed. When Logan saw me standing beside the dining table, the first thing that crossed his face was not guilt. It was annoyance. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” My gaze dropped to his clothes. The black wool coat. The ring. The scarf missing from his neck and wrapped around hers. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. “I wanted to surprise you,” I said. My voice sounded strange. Flat. Like it belonged to a woman watching this from far away. Turns out he had prepared a better surprise first. I looked at Sienna. “Do you and your assistant usually spend Christmas Eve board calls together?” Logan’s jaw tightened. “You should have told me earlier. I would’ve picked you up.” I almost laughed. I had driven six hours in sleet to reach him, and he had not asked whether I was tired, hungry, or safe. Sienna smiled at me. “I didn’t expect you to remember me, Miss Carter. Mr. Pierce and I really were working. When he got your call, he rushed home right away.” Home. She said it like she lived there. Like I was the woman who had arrived without permission. Logan looked at her, and the corner of his mouth softened. It was quick. Private. A smile he had not given me in months. Then he turned to me. “Ubers are impossible tonight. I couldn’t leave her standing outside in this weather. I’ll take her home later.” Sienna blinked at me. “You don’t mind, do you?” Before I could answer, Logan said, almost amused, “Ava isn’t as dramatic as you.” Sienna pouted. “I am not dramatic.” They laughed. Just a little. Enough. They sounded less like CEO and assistant and more like two people who had spent too many nights making each other comfortable. My burned finger pulsed from where hot butter had splashed earlier. Sienna’s eyes moved over the table. “Oh my God. You cooked all this?” She tilted her head. “That’s sweet. I’m awful in the kitchen. Logan doesn’t even let me hold a knife. He says my job is to sit there and look pretty while he cooks.” Logan looked away. But not fast enough. I turned to him. “I don’t like her.” Sienna’s smile froze. “Logan,” I said, each word clean and sharp. “Fire her.”

Sienna looked at Logan immediately. Not like an employee. Like a girl waiting to see if her man would choose her. Logan was quiet for two seconds. Then he said, “Fine. I’ll handle it.” Her face went white. “Logan…” He glanced toward the windows, where the city was already buried in holiday traffic. “It’s late. I’ll take her home.” I stared at him. “You just said you’d fire her.” “I will.” His voice dropped, the way it always did when he wanted me to stop embarrassing him. “But I’m not letting her walk home in sleet on Christmas Eve.” Of course not. Sienna had to be protected from the weather. I had apparently been built to survive anything. They left together. The door clicked shut. The Christmas playlist kept playing. The chicken went cold. The gravy formed a skin. The cake sat untouched under the warm kitchen light. Two hours later, Logan came back. By then, I had thrown the entire dinner into the trash. He paused at the sight of the empty table. Then his eyes moved to me. “Ava—” His collar was open. One button near his throat had been fastened wrong. His hair was slightly damp at the nape, as if snow had melted there—or as if someone had run her fingers through it. On the edge of his white shirt was a faint smear of pink gloss. Sienna had posted again ten minutes earlier. His fiancée showed up and made him promise to fire me. Poor thing. Next line: He still walked me to his car. He still kissed me until the windows fogged. He went back upstairs with my gloss on his collar and his shirt buttoned wrong. She added a winking emoji. Merry Christmas to me. Everything matched. The two hours. The collar. The gloss. The way Logan stood in the doorway like a man already preparing to lie. He reached for me. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me.” His hand stopped midair. “Ava.” The scent hit me then. Not his usual cedar cologne. Vanilla. Sienna’s perfume. It was on his coat, his shirt, the air around him. My stomach turned. I ran to the bathroom and gripped the sink. Nothing came out. My body only shook, dry and useless, like even my nausea had been humiliated. Logan followed. “Are you sick?” He rubbed my back. “Did you eat something?” I flinched away from his hand. “Is Sienna just your assistant?” He frowned. “Of course she is.” I laughed. It sounded ugly. I pulled up the posts and handed him my phone. “Then what’s this?” Logan took it. He read. For a long time. I watched his face carefully. Shock would have been nice. Anger would have been better. Guilt would have been something. Instead, he only looked tired. “She’s young,” he said. “She likes attention. She exaggerates everything online.” “She exaggerated the Christmas lights?” “Ava—” “She exaggerated your ring in her hand?” His mouth tightened. “She exaggerated the lip gloss on your collar?” Logan looked away. There it was. The smallest confession. Not enough to be honest. Enough to insult me. “Don’t make this bigger than it is,” he said. I stared at him. “Do you know I hate cinnamon?” He blinked. “What?” “Do you know I hate cinnamon?” He didn’t answer. Because he didn’t know. Every December, Logan bought cinnamon candles because he liked how they made his apartment smell “warm.” I had sneezed through them for five years. He did not know. But Sienna’s post said he remembered she liked peppermint mocha with oat milk, no whipped cream, extra chocolate drizzle. He knew that. “Do you know I like spicy food?” I asked. His expression grew confused. “You never—” “I stopped asking because your stomach hurt every time we ate it.” Silence. “And the passenger seat?” I continued. “Remember when I brought that little ceramic fox from my first work trip and wanted to put it in your car?” Logan’s jaw flexed. “You said you hated clutter,” I said. “But Sienna has a pink blanket, lip balm, a stuffed reindeer, and a glitter sign that says Princess Seat.” He rubbed his temple. “I’ll clean the car.” “That’s not the point.” He looked at me then, and his voice softened. “After Christmas, I’ll transfer her. I’ll make everything normal again. We can still have the engagement party in January.” Normal. As if betrayal were a table he could wipe down. As if my ring, my dinner, my six-hour drive, his assistant’s perfume on his shirt—none of it mattered if he paid someone to delete a few posts. Sienna had written that I only had the title. Maybe she was right. If being his fiancée meant standing in his kitchen while another woman documented the places her mouth had been, she could have the man. I looked at Logan. “No.” His eyes sharpened. “No what?” “No engagement party.” “Ava.” “No wedding registry. No venue. No January announcement.” He stared at me like I had spoken a foreign language. I took the ring off my finger and placed it on the sink between us. “I’m done.”

Logan stared at the ring. For one second, something like relief flashed in his eyes. It was small. Ugly. Fast. But I saw it. Then he covered it with a sigh. “Ava, don’t say things you can’t take back.” “I already did.” “If you don’t want the party in January, we can delay it.” His tone turned patient, like he was negotiating a contract with a difficult client. “I’ve been under pressure. The company is preparing for funding. You know how busy I am.” I looked at his collar. The pink gloss was still there. “You were busy in Sienna’s car too?” His face darkened. “That’s enough.” No. It had been enough a long time ago. Five years together. Two years long-distance. Hundreds of flights, drives, calls I stayed awake for because his schedule mattered more than mine. The night I was supposed to meet his parents, I had cried from nerves in a hotel bathroom and then smiled through dinner because his mother called me “our future daughter-in-law.” When Logan asked to postpone the Christmas engagement announcement, I had swallowed my disappointment and said work came first. Now I knew whose feelings came first. Not mine. “All this because of a few stupid posts?” he asked. “Not the posts.” My voice was quiet. “It’s the fact that every post is believable.” Before he could answer, his phone rang. Not his normal ringtone. A girl’s voice filled the bathroom. Mr. Pierce, pick up. Your Christmas princess is calling. Ignore me and I’ll cry. The sound bounced off the tile. Logan snatched the phone and declined the call. His face tightened. “It was a joke.” The phone rang again. Same voice. Same Christmas princess. This time, he walked into the hallway and answered. He lowered his voice, but not enough. “What happened? The heat went out? Did maintenance come? Don’t cry. I’ll be there.” He came back into the bathroom with that look on his face. The one I already knew. He was going. “There’s an issue at the office.” I laughed once. On Christmas Eve, he couldn’t even respect me enough to invent a decent lie. “At the office?” He avoided my eyes. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. You should sleep here tonight.” Sleep here. In the apartment where I had cooked his Christmas dinner while his assistant waited for him downstairs. The apartment that smelled like vanilla perfume and cold gravy. “No,” I said. I walked out of the bathroom and grabbed my suitcase. Logan followed me. “Ava, don’t do this.” “Don’t do what? Leave a man who is leaving me?” His phone buzzed again. Sienna. Of course. He looked at it. That was answer enough. I took my coat from the chair. When I reached the door, he said, “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” I turned back. He looked handsome in the warm Christmas light. Tired. Expensive. Ruined in small ways only I knew how to read. “Tomorrow,” I said, “I’ll be gone.” Then I left. I checked into a hotel ten blocks away. Outside the window, the city glittered with Christmas lights. Couples crossed the street hand in hand. Someone in the hotel lobby laughed under a hanging wreath. I sat on the bed in my coat and opened Sienna’s profile again. I hated myself for it. But I looked anyway. Fifteen minutes earlier, she had posted a carousel. Christmas with the person I actually want. Nine photos. Logan’s hand on a steering wheel. His coat thrown over the back of her chair. Two mugs beside a half-built gingerbread house. Her legs tucked under the pink blanket in his passenger seat. A close-up of the glitter sign on his dashboard: Sienna’s Seat. The last photo was a mirror selfie. Her face was tilted up. His face was half-hidden behind hers. His hand rested low on her waist. The caption read: His fiancée can have the ring. I get Christmas Eve. I stared until my vision blurred. Then I booked the earliest flight home. At 2:13 a.m., Logan called. “I’m staying late,” he said. “Sienna’s heat is out, and she’s scared. Go to bed. I’ll explain tomorrow.” In the background, she laughed softly. Not scared. Satisfied. I ended the call before he finished speaking. Then I typed one message. Logan, we’re over. This time, I did not wait for him to reply.

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“Babe, you need to clear your weekend schedule right now. You’re taking me to that new French restaurant that just opened downtown.” The moment I walked into my husband’s office, my jaw dropped. Benjamin, the man who always prided himself on keeping a strict professional distance from the opposite sex, was holding the hand of our new intern, Nora. Fury flared in my chest. I stormed over, my hand automatically raising to slap this homewrecker across the face. But right before my hand made contact, a strange, robotic voice echoed in my head: 【Slap me! Come on, hit me hard!】 【The stream chat said that if she hits me, Benjamin will hate her even more!】 【What a brainless heiress. A cheap trick, and she totally fell for it.】 【Keep throwing your tantrum, honey. I’m the main character here.】 【Your ending is a one-way ticket to a mental asylum. Mine is a fairy-tale wedding with Benjamin.】 My hand froze mid-air. I looked at Nora. Her eyes were wide with eager anticipation, practically begging for the slap. Instead of hitting her, I lowered my hand, reached out, and gently patted her soft cheek. “Nora, your skin is absolutely glowing,” I said, my voice dripping with honey. “No wonder Benjamin likes you so much. He just can’t seem to let go of your hand, can he?”

Nora froze. A flicker of absolute confusion crossed her innocent little face. This was clearly not how her script was supposed to go. 【Why didn’t she hit me?!】 【The stream chat explicitly said she’d slap me the moment she saw us holding hands!】 【If she doesn’t hit me, how is Benjamin supposed to feel sorry for me and start hating her?!】 I sneered inwardly. Hit you? In your dreams, sweetie. Benjamin quickly let go of Nora’s hand, stepping forward to wrap his arm around my waist. “Atalanta, don’t get the wrong idea. She almost tripped, and I was just catching her.” “Oh, I believe you.” I looked up at him, flashing him my sweetest, most dazzling smile. “Babe, I have a quick question for you.” “What is it?” “I really like this girl.” I slid my arm through his, leaning in with my usual pampered, spoiled attitude. “Transfer her to my office. I want her as my personal assistant.” I needed to keep this girl right under my nose to see what other “plots” she was cooking up. Benjamin frowned slightly, hesitating. “She’s doing incredibly well in the Mergers and Acquisitions department. The M&A director specifically requested to keep her.” Nora’s mental voice immediately erupted with joy. 【The M&A director never said that!】 【The chat was right! Benjamin definitely has feelings for me, his destined heroine. He’s already making up excuses to keep me close!】 【Atalanta is such a clueless idiot.】 The fire in my chest flared up again. I pushed Benjamin away. “What’s that supposed to mean? I can’t even have one intern?” “Atalanta, that’s not what I meant…” “Then what do you mean?” I stared him down. Benjamin was taken aback by my sharp tone. He subconsciously glanced at Nora. Nora stood behind him, looking terrified and fragile on the outside. In her mind, though, she was throwing a party. 【Yes! Atalanta is throwing a fit! The chat is so right—the more she throws tantrums, the more annoyed Benjamin gets!】 【Benjamin just looked at me! He’s worried about my feelings! His affection points just went up again!】 I took a deep breath, suppressing the violent urge to slap them both. “Benjamin, I’m only asking you once.” I crossed my arms, tilting my chin toward Nora. “Are you giving her to me, or not?” I had been pampered by my parents my entire life, and since marrying Benjamin, I had never faced a single “no” from him. And now, he was hesitating over a mere intern? He had to be joking. Looking at my cold expression, Benjamin finally sighed. “Of course. Whatever makes you happy, babe.” Nora’s mind instantly went into overdrive— 【What?! He’s actually transferring me to her?】 【No way! How am I supposed to romance Benjamin if I’m stuck working for her!】 【Wait… the chat says it’s fine. A transfer will actually make Benjamin feel guilty.】 【He’ll start seeing Atalanta as selfish and unreasonable.】 【Yes, yes! As long as I play the victim, he’ll only pity me more!】 For the next few days, I kept Nora right under my eyes. But every single morning, the first thing she did wasn’t reporting to me. She would sneak straight into Benjamin’s office. 【Benjamin complimented my financial report today. He said it was better than the senior analysts’ work.】 【The chat says: Affection points +10.】 At lunchtime, she would “coincidentally” run into Benjamin in the corporate cafeteria. 【He actually asked if I was eating alone and sat at my table!】 【He said I have a great personality and a strong work ethic—unlike some rich girls who only know how to spend money~】 In the afternoon, when Benjamin came to my office to discuss business and saw Nora working overtime, he’d casually say, “Thanks for your hard work. Don’t stay too late.” 【He cares about me!】 【The chat is so right. The more useless Atalanta is, the more my hard work stands out.】 Sitting at my desk, my grip on the fashion magazine tightened until the pages wrinkled. Technically, Benjamin hadn’t crossed any lines. No hugs, no kisses, no suggestive texts. He probably genuinely believed he was just mentoring a capable, hardworking intern. But I had to sit there and listen to those mental updates, over and over again. Until one afternoon, when I went to his office to drop off some files. That was when I noticed something that made my blood run cold. The way Benjamin looked at Nora… it contained something unfamiliar to me. Admiration. And worse—tenderness.

I decided to test him. The next day, Nora brought me a contract. The formatting was a total disaster, and she had used three different fonts. I snatched the folder, marched into Benjamin’s office, and slammed it onto his desk. “Look at this. Is this the ‘capable’ intern you talked about? She can’t even format a basic document. How did she even pass her internship review?” Benjamin flipped through the pages, frowning slightly. But then he sighed. “She’s fresh out of college, Atalanta. There’s no need to be so harsh.” “It’s a basic document, Benjamin.” “She’ll get better with practice.” He dismissed it gently. 【He defended me again!】 【The chat says Benjamin is officially getting sick of this spoiled heiress!】 Later that afternoon, I asked Nora to bring me a cup of coffee. When she brought it, it was barely warm, choked with milk, and sickeningly sweet. I took a sip right in front of her and spat it back into the cup. “What is this garbage? Are you here to work, or are you on vacation?” Nora’s eyes instantly welled with tears. She lowered her head, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Jefferson. I’ll make a fresh cup right away…” 【Just endure it. The chat says the more she bullies me, the more cruel she looks to Benjamin.】 Right on cue, Benjamin walked in. Seeing Nora’s red, tear-filled eyes, his frown deepened. “Atalanta, it’s just a cup of coffee. Is it really worth throwing a tantrum over?” I looked up at him. “She can’t even remember my basic coffee order. You call that capable?” “She’s only been here for a few days. Give her some time to adjust.” Benjamin’s voice carried a distinct edge of annoyance. “Can you stop being so…” He cut himself off, but I knew exactly what he wanted to say. Stop being so unreasonable. I let out a bitter laugh. I leaned back in my chair and waved my hand. “Nora, get out.” Nora glanced at Benjamin, then at me, and scurried out with her head low. Benjamin walked over, pulled up a chair, and sat beside me, softening his tone. “Babe, what’s wrong with you today?” “Nothing.” “You’re clearly angry.” He reached out to hold my hand, squeezing my fingers. “Is this still about the other day? I already transferred Nora to you, didn’t I?” I stared at him. Did he truly not know what he was doing, or was he just playing dumb? “Let me ask you something.” I looked straight into his eyes. “Do you honestly think she’s better than me?” Benjamin blinked, then chuckled. “How can you even compare yourself to her? You’re my wife. She’s just an employee.” “I’m only helping her because she actually has potential.” Outside the door, Nora was eavesdropping, her mind gloating triumphantly: 【He’s definitely comparing us in his head! The chat says his affection points just went up again~】 I ignored the voice and kept my eyes locked on him. “Then why don’t you take Nora to our weekend date?” I asked coldly. “You two can talk about work the entire time.” Benjamin sighed, pinching my cheek gently. “What are you talking about? Of course I wouldn’t go with her. My weekend belongs to you.” A flicker of hope ignited in my chest. 【Atalanta is so gullible. She believes everything he says.】 【But the chat already revealed the truth. Benjamin is going to cancel on her, claiming he’s too busy, and then he’s taking me out for my favorite Mexican food~】 The smile on my face froze. No, I told myself. Those voices might not be real. Nora’s “system” could just be a delusion. On Friday afternoon, I put on my makeup and a brand-new dress, waiting for Benjamin to finish work. At 5:30 PM, my phone buzzed. Benjamin: 「An urgent business dinner came up tonight, babe. I can’t make it. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you next time.」 I stared at the screen, the bright light burning my eyes. I typed out a long reply, then deleted it all. In the end, I only sent: 「Okay.」 The next day, I was scrolling through Instagram when I saw Nora’s new post. There was no caption. Just a single photo. A table full of Mexican food, and a man’s hands sitting across from her. On his ring finger was the wedding band I had personally chosen for him.

After that weekend, Benjamin seemed to realize I was being unusually cold. For the next few days, he came home strictly on time for dinner and brought me expensive gifts. On Wednesday night, as we lay in bed, Benjamin wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Babe, I have a three-day business trip this weekend. It’s a major project, very important.” I nodded slowly. “Okay.” He leaned down to kiss the back of my neck. “Be good. I’ll bring you back something nice.” The next morning, the moment I approached my office door, Nora’s mental voice drifted out— 【The chat says Benjamin is taking me to Santorini!】 【A luxury cliffside hotel! A sunset suite!】 【That’s the exact trip Atalanta has been begging him for five years!】 【The chat is right. I am his true love. Atalanta is just a stepping stone on her way to the asylum!】 The coffee cup in my hand almost slipped. Santorini. That was the honeymoon trip Benjamin and I had promised each other when we got married. I had brought it up for five years. And for five years, he had always said he was too busy, to wait, next time. And now, he was taking someone else. The moment I shut my office door, my hands began to tremble. At noon, I went into Benjamin’s office. He was reviewing some documents. When he saw me, he smiled. “What’s up, babe? Miss me already?” I sat down across from him, quietly observing the face I had loved for over a decade. “Benjamin.” My voice was barely a whisper. “Do you remember you still owe me a trip?” Benjamin paused, then smiled. “Of course I do. Santorini, right?” “When are we going?” “Babe, I’m drowned in work right now.” He walked over, gently stroking my hair. “Once things quiet down, I’ll take you. I promise, okay?” Once things quiet down. Always the same excuse. I forced a smile and said nothing. I was done waiting. On Thursday, they departed. Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, I watched Benjamin’s car pull out of the parking garage. Then, I unlocked my phone and texted my best friend, Audrey: 「Can you recommend a divorce lawyer? The absolute best in the city.」 She replied instantly: 「??? Are you insane?」 「I’ve never been more sane. Just send me the name.」 After a long silence, she sent over a contact card. 「Jonathan Vance. He’s a shark of a divorce attorney. And… he was our college classmate, remember?」 I stared at the name. Jonathan. The tall, quiet guy from college who used to buy me yogurt every single day. The next morning, I walked into his law firm. He was dressed in a sharp, tailored charcoal suit. He looked much more mature and grounded than he had in college. He was handsome, but in a completely different way from Benjamin. After listening to my story, Jonathan didn’t ask unnecessary questions. He simply said: “I’ll draft the paperwork. We will take him for everything he’s worth.” He paused, then added, “It’s on the house.” “Jonathan, I can pay—” “Back in college, when those street thugs cornered me to steal my money, you swung your skateboard and chased them off. I’ve remembered that for ten years.” He looked at me, tilting his head with a soft smile. “You also told me back then that if it weren’t for him, you would have chosen me.” “Are you still making me wait?” I couldn’t find the words to answer. On the night the paperwork was finalized, I saw Nora’s Instagram update. Pictures of the blue-domed churches of Santorini, the stunning Aegean sunset, and the infinity pool of a cliffside hotel. And the last photo was a shot of Benjamin from behind. He was standing on a white balcony, overlooking the deep blue sea. Her caption read: 「Thank you for taking me to the most beautiful place in the world.」 I stared at the photo for a long time. Then, I opened my chat with Benjamin, sent him a PDF of the divorce papers, and added two words: 「We’re divorcing.」 Then, I blocked his number.

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