Category: English

Three years with leukemia. Three years of Lucas selling his plasma to save me. Today, locked in the bathroom, I pressed a blade to my wrist—just as voices outside my hospital room spilled the truth. “Lucas forced Stella to be a guinea pig, faking leukemia for three years—worse than real chemo.” “He even wore a bald cap daily to keep up the act.” Lucas chuckled. “She’s a janitor. Honored to help Evie’s research. I’ll marry her later—compensation.” To ease his “burden,” I’d scrubbed hospital toilets. The razor clattered as blood pooled. The door flew open—Lucas’s eyes burning crimson. As I faded, my abandoned fiancé’s voice echoed: “I’ll wait. However long it takes.” 1 When consciousness returned, it felt like my eyelids were glued shut. But I could still hear them. The same voices, filling my room. “Lucas, you looked pretty panicked back there. Don’t tell me you’re actually falling for her?” “Get real. He’s the CEO of Lockhart Pharmaceutical Group. You think he’d fall for a janitor?” The room fell silent for a beat, punctuated only by the steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. I heard Lucas’s fingers tapping on the bedside table, a restless, drumming beat. Then, a short, sharp laugh. “Of course not.” His voice was cold steel. “If she dies now, Evie’s three years of research go down the drain. That’s all.” Each tap of his finger was a hammer blow to my soul. And to think, just for a second, I’d held a pathetic flicker of hope that he genuinely feared losing me. A phone rang. Not the cheap burner he always used around me, but a crisp, modern tone. “The monthly transfer came in? Good. Same as always—cash it out and toss it to some beggar on the street.” The voice on the other end was the hospital director’s. I knew it instantly. This hospital had thirty floors. Hundreds of toilets. Every single night, after my so-called “chemotherapy,” I would drag my broken body through the halls and clean them all. For two thousand dollars a month. It wasn’t much, but I had every penny deposited directly into the hospital’s account, desperate to lift some of the weight off Lucas’s shoulders. Over seventy thousand dollars in three years. All of it, thrown away to beggars. A chair scraped against the floor, the sound grinding against my exposed nerves, my shredded dignity. “Jesus, man. How can you even stand to look at her face every day? She’s a mess.” “Before the experiment started, she was actually pretty hot. I’d have killed for that body, that face.” A soft thud, like someone kicking the bed frame. “Disgusting,” Lucas spat. “Try wearing a bald cap for three years and pretending to sell your plasma to pay her medical bills. That’s disgusting,” he countered, his voice dripping with resentment. “But for Evie… it’s all worth it.” The last words were a whisper, thick with a tenderness that was never meant for me. Disgusting. The man I thought would die for me, the man I’d been with for two years before this nightmare began, was the very architect of my suffering. What a complete and utter fool I’d been. I ran away from my life, from the corporate marriage my father had arranged, only to have him freeze all my accounts. I was starving on the streets of this city when Lucas, a handsome delivery guy, offered me a bowl of simple rice porridge. For that one act of kindness, I’d torched the bridge back to my family. For five years, he was my everything. But it was time to wake up. With a monumental effort, I forced my eyelids open. “Stella! You’re awake!” Lucas’s voice was choked with emotion. He threw his arms around me, his eyes red-rimmed, clutching me like a priceless treasure. It was a performance so perfect, you could drown in it. “Don’t you ever do something so stupid again! I told you, I will never give up on you. You’re going to get better.” Then, he pulled back slightly, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Stella… did you… did you hear anything?” I stared at his bald head. It was the same head I’d looked at for three years, but now it seemed utterly alien. I stretched my lips into a weak smile, mimicking the adoration I always showed him. “Should I have heard something?” He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. The puff of air ghosted over my ear as he reached up and self-consciously touched his head. His tell. The nervous gesture he always made when he was lying. And for the first time, I saw it. The wig cap. The seam near his ear. It was so fake, so obvious. How had I never noticed in three years? How many times had I held him, my heart aching for him, begging him not to destroy himself for my sake? My gaze drifted to the other men in the room. They were dressed in expensive, tailored suits. Lucas, in contrast, wore a faded, washed-out shirt. The perfect disguise. Who would ever guess he was their boss? “Who are they?” I asked, my voice raspy. “Oh, them? They’re the buyers. For my plasma,” he said smoothly. “I just made a sale. Your next round of chemo is paid for.” One of the men in suits cleared his throat. “That’s right. Fifty thousand dollars, already transferred. Well, we’ll be on our way.” As they left, I spoke into the sudden quiet of the room. “I want to go home.” I knew the entire hospital was practically his property. To escape him, I first had to escape this building. He stared at me, stunned. I repeated myself, my voice firmer. “I want to be discharged, Lucas.” “I’ve been here for three years. I feel like my whole body is pickled in antiseptic!” I grabbed his arm, summoning the old, playful whine he could never resist. For three years, I had dreamed of leaving, but I’d never dared to ask. I wanted him to see me as a fighter, positive and determined. Now, uttering the words, I watched his face. And he agreed. Of course he did. He was, after all, still playing the part of the perfect, doting boyfriend who would do anything for me. The taxi sped through the city, his hand holding mine the entire time. It stopped in front of a run-down, decrepit apartment building. He carried my single bag up the stairs. The moment he opened the door, the air hit me first—stale and thick with the scent of damp and decay. “Stella, after you were hospitalized, I… I had to sell the condo we bought together. I rented this place,” he said, his voice heavy with false regret. “But don’t worry. I’ll work my ass off to buy it back for us.” The condo. We’d saved for two years, filling it with pictures of us, cozy furniture, matching towels and toothbrushes. Lucas, wearing an apron, cooking for me. How could the man in my memories be the same one whose lies I’d overheard in the hospital? Something soft and squishy under my shoe brought me back to the present. I glanced down. A dead mouse. I forced a bright smile. “It’s okay, Lucas! It’s… cozy. It even comes with a little pet!” He dragged my bag inside and began putting my clothes in a rickety dresser, just as he used to do in our beautiful home. “Stella, go get washed up. The doctor said you need to rest.” I went into the bathroom. The water meter on the wall read a definitive, stark: 0. He hadn’t just rented this place. He’d found an abandoned, condemned apartment to complete his charade. Rain began to streak down the grimy windowpane. I turned and caught my reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back sent a jolt of terror through me. Her bald head gleamed with a pale, bluish tint under the single bare bulb. Her cheekbones jutted out like razors. Her eyes were sunk deep into bruised, hollow sockets. That woman… it was me. For three years, Lucas had never let me look in a mirror. Now I knew why. I was a monster. Suddenly, the bathroom door flew open. With a roar of frustration, Lucas slammed his fist into the mirror. Glass exploded, showering the floor. A thousand tiny shards reflected a thousand versions of my grotesque face. Blood dripped from his knuckles onto the cracked linoleum. “Stella, don’t look,” he whispered, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry. Don’t look.” But his embrace was suffocating. He was so deep in his own lie, he was starting to drown in it himself. “I’m not that fragile,” I mumbled, pulling away to see his hand. “Let me take care of that.” As I wrapped his knuckles in gauze, the memories became sharper, more painful. Whenever he’d gotten hurt before, he would whine and beg me to kiss it better. It would always end with him pressing me into the mattress, his voice hoarse as he whispered a name over and over. “Evie… Evie…” Not Stella. Evie. A tear escaped and landed on the back of his hand. He flinched as if burned. Just then, his phone rang. He gently stroked my hair and stepped out onto the tiny, rusted balcony to take the call. The flimsy door did nothing to block the sound. “Are you coming home tonight, Lucas?” a girl’s voice, sweet and playful, chirped through the phone. “It’s my birthday tomorrow, you have to be there!” “I’m on my way back right now, sweetheart,” his voice was a river of gentle affection. “I’ll have a present for you tomorrow.” A clap of thunder rattled the windows. “I just got a call for a job,” he said, rushing back inside. “I have to go now. Lock the door behind me. If the thunder gets too loud, just cover your ears.” He was gone in a flash, but not before remembering my fear of thunderstorms. He’d left the balcony door open. A cold gust of wind swept in, drying the tears on my face. Using the last of the money on my phone, I bought a plane ticket home. Just as I confirmed the purchase, a text message popped up from an unknown number. “The Grand Imperial Hotel, tomorrow. You’ll get to see a very different side of your dear Lucas.” I knew who it was. Evie. The mastermind of my three-year-long torture. I’d never even met her. Why was she revealing the truth to me now? It was a trap. I knew it was a trap. But the next day, in an act of pure self-destruction, I went downstairs and bought a wig. … The taxi pulled up to the Grand Imperial Hotel, and the first thing I saw was the massive screen above the entrance. It displayed a looping photo of Lucas, dressed in a breathtakingly expensive custom suit, his hair styled to perfection. On his arm was a beautiful, smiling girl. Evie. So, after five years of being the center of my world, this is how I finally meet her. The invisible girl who, without ever showing her face, had turned my life into a living hell for her own ambition. I slipped into the grand ballroom like a rat slinking through the shadows, watching her moment of triumph. She stood on a stage, holding a microphone. “Thank you all for coming to my birthday celebration! I’m also thrilled to announce that my groundbreaking research on a new leukemia treatment is nearing completion!” The room erupted in applause. They were all praising her genius, her dedication. Her eyes found mine across the crowded room. A glint of challenge, of pure malice, sparked in them. Then, her voice, amplified and laced with panic, filled the hall. “Oh my god! The St. Christopher medal my brother gave me… it’s gone! Someone must have stolen it!” A wave of murmurs and commotion swept through the guests. Lucas immediately ordered the hotel security to find the thief. But they didn’t search the crowd. They walked in a straight line, directly towards me. My blood ran cold. I turned and ran. A hand tangled in my hair, yanking hard. The wig came off, fluttering to the floor. “It’s her! She’s the thief! She’s been lurking in the corner the whole time!” “Search her!” I spun around to face them, and my eyes locked with Lucas’s. He froze, the color draining from his face. He reflexively ran a hand through his own, real hair. “Stella? What are you doing here?” He took a step forward. “Whatever you saw tonight… I can explain when we get home. Please, just be good and give Evie back her medal.” Looking at him now, so polished and powerful, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Tears streamed down my face. “Explain? Explain what? That I don’t have leukemia? That I was just a lab rat for Evie’s little project?” “You’ve been playing me for three years! Was it fun? Did you get a good laugh? I wanted to kill myself, Lucas! I almost did, over and over again!” “You know?” His voice trembled. He reached for me, his hand outstretched. He tried to say more, but Evie’s supporters were already on me. He did nothing to stop them as they grabbed at my clothes. My coat was ripped from my shoulders, exposing the thin hospital gown underneath. And beneath that, my skin. A horrifying canvas of countless needle pricks and vast, mottled bruises covering my torso and arms. Gasps filled the room. “Oh, god! How disgusting!” “What is wrong with her? She looks like she’s carrying a plague! Get her out of here!” Amidst the chorus of disgust, a sharp crack echoed on the marble floor. The St. Christopher medal had fallen from my pocket and shattered. The medal he claimed he’d gotten for me after a pilgrimage to a famous cathedral, where he’d knelt in prayer for days. I remembered him pressing it into my hand, a hot tear falling with it. “Stella,” he’d whispered, “you’re going to be okay.” “That’s it!” Evie shrieked, pointing at the broken pieces. “That’s the one my brother got for me after my fever last year! He went all the way to…” She trailed off, squinting. “Wait… no. That one just… looks like it. I remember now. This is the one he bought online for $4.99 with free shipping.” “A cheap knockoff.”

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1 The merger of New York’s two most powerful dynasties shocked the world—until I caught my fiancée, Sienna Hayes, kissing the scholarship student she sponsored at our engagement party. “Emmet, it’s not what it looks like.” She hastily adjusted her couture gown, cheeks flushed. I laughed coldly as the man fumbled with his collar. “Blind, am I?” I threw the ring at her feet. “Finish this engagement, or your family goes bankrupt. Choose.” Defiant, she retrieved it. “Fine.” But when the ceremony began, she walked past me—straight to him. “The man I love has always been Ryan,” she declared. “I’ll never marry a bastard like you!” The room erupted. Gasps. Mockery. Cameras flashing. And I, Emmet Reed, became New York’s biggest joke. As she kissed him, my heart turned to ash. You betrayed me first, Sienna. Don’t blame me for burning your world down. … “Mr. Reed, the company’s stock has already plummeted by 30%.” My assistant reported the news with his head bowed, his voice trembling. I stared at my phone. The top five trending topics were all about the engagement party fiasco. Under the hashtag #HeiressDefiesArrangedMarriageForLove, the comments were a firestorm of outrage. “Who does this Reed guy think he is? The girl has a true love, and he tries to force her into a marriage? What a shameless scumbag. He deserved to be dumped!” “Sienna Hayes, you are an icon! Show this bastard what karma looks like!” “Reed Corp should just go bankrupt. A trash company like that doesn’t deserve to exist!” Page after page, it was a public trial, and I was the villain. I scrolled through them calmly, my expression unreadable, until a notification for Sienna’s latest post popped up. 【Finally free. Heading toward a new future with the one I love.】 The accompanying photo was a close-up of her hand intertwined with Ryan’s. The engagement ring that was supposed to be ours was now on another man’s finger. I stared at the words for a long time, and then, I laughed. “Get the legal team on the line. I want them to activate the highest-level penalty clause in our contract. Terminate all partnerships with the Hayes Corporation. Immediately.” My assistant’s hand visibly shook. “Sir… shouldn’t we release a statement first? To explain? The entire internet is crucifying you right now…” “What is there to explain?” I cut him off, slamming my phone down on the desk. “I have no time to waste on a treacherous woman like her.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, the familiar ache of a migraine starting, and sank into the plush leather of the sofa. The memories came flooding back. Five years ago, the Hayes family was on the brink of ruin. At a high-profile auction, she had stubbornly kept bidding, trying to save her family’s last ancestral home. The entire room was waiting for her to make a fool of herself. But I saw the fire in her eyes, the refusal to surrender. So I stepped in, bought the estate, and gifted it to her, no strings attached. Back then, she had nothing. She saw me as her lifeline, kneeling at my feet and promising, “Emmet Reed, if you save my family, I will do anything for you.” I had chuckled and helped her up. “Anything? Then marry me.” Her eyes had flashed with anger, but also with a glimmer of something else. To help her family’s company recover, I’d drank myself into a bleeding ulcer at business dinners. She had stayed by my hospital bed, her eyes red, and whispered, “Emmet, don’t you ever do that again.” Seeing her looking at me like I was her entire world, I thought it was all worth it. I thought we were each other’s salvation. I used the Reed Corporation’s resources and my own network to help her rebuild her family’s business empire. I taught her how to be a savvy businesswoman. The Hayes Corporation went from a struggling startup to a global powerhouse. But somewhere along the way, our relationship soured. She started resisting my touch, fighting my decisions. She began to romanticize the past, a simpler time she imagined she’d lost. And that was when Ryan, the scholarship student, appeared. She projected all her nostalgia, all her yearning for a life unburdened by wealth and power, onto him. A month before the engagement, I had warned her directly. “Sienna, I don’t need to tell you how important this merger is. I expect you to act accordingly.” She’d toyed with her teacup, her reply dismissive. “Don’t be so dramatic, Emmet. I just see Ryan as a little brother. His family is struggling. What’s wrong with helping him out?” “He’s a grown man,” I’d reminded her, my voice low. “He can get a job.” She’d slammed her cup down. “It’s not the same! When did you become so cold-hearted? You’re nothing but a cynical, money-obsessed businessman now! Ryan is so much purer than you!” It was in that moment that I understood. She was no longer the girl who needed me. And she was desperate to escape my control. I decided to take a step back, to treat her as nothing more than a business partner. As long as she played her part, everything could proceed as planned. But I forgot one crucial thing: people change. Especially when they convince themselves they are the victim. The door to my office was thrown open. Sienna stormed in, radiating fury, with Ryan trailing timidly behind her. I glanced up at her, my voice cold. “What is it?” She pulled a document from her purse and slapped it onto my desk. “Let’s call off the engagement.” She pulled Ryan into a chair beside her. “Let’s just end this amicably. For our own dignity.” I laughed. “Sienna, you have the nerve to talk about dignity? Where was your dignity last night when you publicly humiliated my family at our engagement party?” I stood up, planting my hands on the desk, and loomed over her. “You didn’t just ruin an engagement party. You destroyed a three-year strategic alliance between our families. You jeopardized the next five years of commercial development for this entire city. Are you telling me you didn’t know that?!” She gave a mocking smile and leaned back, her posture arrogant. “Of course I knew.” “All you ever see is profit! You even turned our engagement into a business transaction!” Ryan tugged at her sleeve, his voice barely a whisper. “Emmet, sir… please don’t blame Sienna. It’s all my fault. I… I couldn’t control my feelings…” “Shut up!” I roared, cutting him off. “No one asked you to speak!” Ryan’s face went white, and he immediately fell silent. The sight of his fear seemed to ignite something in Sienna. She shot to her feet, pointing a finger at me. “Emmet Reed, that’s enough! Just because you helped me once doesn’t mean you get to control my life forever! Every single day with you has been suffocating! You didn’t help my family or drink yourself sick for me! You did it to solidify your own empire! And I was just the most obedient pawn in your game!” Every word was a knife to the heart. I took a deep breath and met her eyes. “So, in your eyes, from the moment I bought your family’s estate, I was just using you?” “When I chartered a private jet to fly in the world’s top specialists for your father’s surgery, that was also an act?” “Sienna, do you even have a heart?” Her eyes flickered with a moment of uncertainty. I smiled, but my eyes were bloodshot. “Sienna, I’m going to ask you one last time.” “Did you ever—” “I loved you!” she blurted out, her face a mask of defiant anger. “Happy now? Did you need to hear that pathetic answer before you’d finally let it go?” Then, in a final act of provocation, she looped her arm through Ryan’s and placed her other hand on her stomach. “But things are different now.” “I’m pregnant with Ryan’s child. I have to do right by them.” The truth, so sudden and brutal, hit me like a physical blow. So that was it. I was just a pawn in their twisted little love story. The very next day, Sienna held a press conference. I sat in my office, watching the news feed, my face an impassive mask. Sienna’s eyes were red-rimmed and her face was pale, the carefully applied makeup unable to hide her exhaustion. Ryan sat beside her, looking like he was bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. “First, I want to sincerely apologize to everyone who has been following this,” she began, her voice catching with a practiced sob. “For five years, I have been repaying a debt of gratitude. Every moment of every day, I’ve had to live under the thumb of the Reed family! A single contract decided the course of my entire life.” She spoke with a tearful choke in her voice for the entire speech. Only when she spoke of Ryan did a genuine smile touch her lips. “Only Ryan cared about what I truly wanted.” She wiped away a non-existent tear. “I admit, Emmet Reed is a brilliant businessman. The Hayes Corporation wouldn’t be where it is today without his help.” But in the next breath, her words turned sharp. “But he controlled every aspect of my life. Which clients I met with, which restaurants I dined at. Even the gowns I wore to galas and the jewelry I was allowed to put on were all pre-approved by him. I felt like a puppet, a marionette with no thoughts of my own, living completely in his shadow.” Ryan, on cue, wrapped a protective arm around her trembling shoulders and cried to the cameras, “Sienna just wanted to be her own person! I couldn’t bear to see her in so much pain! Mr. Reed… I’m so sorry. Please, I’m begging you, just let us go.” The room exploded with flashes. The comments on the livestream went berserk. 【Oh my God! I can’t believe this heiress was living in a gilded cage!】 【Emmet Reed is a monster! A controlling freak! A man like that deserves to rot in hell!】 【I support Sienna! True love will conquer all!】 Finally, Sienna announced that she would be starting a new company, completely separate from the Reed empire. “I will rebuild my company, my way.” “I know the road ahead will be difficult, but with Ryan, and… our child,” she said, her voice filled with resolve, “I know I can do it.” The press conference ended, and the internet boiled over. With the tide of public opinion turned against me, I became the villain of the story. The phones at Reed Tower rang off the hook with calls from the media. Several long-term clients tactfully terminated their contracts, afraid of being associated with the bad press. I stared at Sienna’s duplicitous face on the screen and felt a wave of nausea. A chilling, visceral hatred rose within me. I wiped a cold, damp tear from my own cheek and picked up the phone. “Get the legal team. Conference room in five minutes.” My assistant hesitated. “Sir… is there really no turning back from this?” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “The die is cast.” “I’m going to destroy them.”

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To maintain her “single and unattached” persona in the entertainment world, my mother abandoned me in a remote mountain village for eighteen years. I was ten when I overheard my aunt and uncle talking and learned for the first time that my mother was a famous actress. In my first-ever computer class in middle school, my clumsy fingers typed out her name: “Laura Lane.” I watched a video of the glamorous celebrity, her arm draped affectionately around a young girl’s shoulders, announcing that she was adopting the girl as her goddaughter. She promised to treat her like her own flesh and blood. The little girl was moved to tears. They hugged, a perfect picture of mother-daughter devotion. My own eyes burning, I clicked the video closed. Eight years later, I was accepted into Ashton University. On the very first day, I ran into Laura Lane. And with her, the goddaughter she’d claimed in front of the world, a rising starlet named Crystal Liu. 1 It was the first day of orientation at Ashton University. And the first time I had ever seen her in person. My biological mother, Laura Lane. She had just stepped out of a luxury car, but even with the dark sunglasses hiding her eyes, I recognized her instantly. The designer bags, the entourage of assistants buzzing around her—she was the living embodiment of glamour and extravagance. I watched from a distance as she directed her assistants, then wrapped an arm around a young woman and disappeared into the dormitory building. Only then did I slowly start to follow. My hand had just touched the doorknob of my dorm room when I heard a soft, melodramatic complaint from inside. “Darling, this room is so small and shabby. You’ll have to rough it for a while. As soon as orientation is over, we’ll move you out of here.” So, the girl she was doting on was my new roommate. Great. I opened the door, and another girl in the room immediately started the introductions. “This is Crystal Liu, our new roommate, and this is her godmother, Ms. Lane.” “Ms. Lane, the famous actress! We’re so lucky to have you here today!” “And Crystal, haven’t you been in a bunch of TV shows? You’re practically America’s sweetheart.” “You two are just stunning. A real-life goddess mother-daughter duo.” Amidst the chorus of fawning, I gave them a cool nod. Laura’s eyes swept over me, her gaze dripping with disdain as she took in my faded, worn-out clothes. The contempt was palpable. She turned to her assistant, her voice laced with a saccharine poison clearly meant for me. “I hear there are so many neglected children from the countryside these days. It just goes to show, without parents to raise them properly, they don’t even learn basic manners.” The other girls in the room shifted uncomfortably. I stood there silently, a bitter mix of amusement and a familiar ache blooming in my chest. Did she not realize her insult ricocheted right back at her? Here we were, mother and daughter, face to face and complete strangers. The psychic connection that movie mothers always had with their long-lost children was, apparently, a complete fabrication. Crystal, however, had been staring at me for a while, her eyes glittering with undisguised jealousy. As a fellow young woman trying to make it in an industry built on looks, her focus was different from Laura’s. She wasn’t looking at my clothes; she was looking at my face. Laura had made a career out of her beauty, but I had inherited her best features and improved upon them, likely thanks to my unknown biological father. My face was small and delicate, with features that were almost unnervingly perfect. My appearance had clearly triggered a deep sense of insecurity in her. A natural animosity radiated from her. So, after Laura’s little speech, she put on a show of fake concern. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “My godmother wasn’t talking about you.” I lowered my gaze, refusing to meet her eyes. “I know she wasn’t,” I said quietly. “Because I’m an orphan.” The room fell silent. My other roommates looked at me with a mixture of pity and awkwardness, their gazes flicking meaningfully toward Laura and Crystal. Crystal quickly tried to change the subject. “Right. So, what’s your name?” I glanced at Laura, who was pretending to be engrossed in directing her assistants to make Crystal’s bed, and raised my voice just enough for her to hear clearly. “My name is Briar.” At the name, Laura, who had been pointedly ignoring me, whipped her head around. Her face paled, and her voice was strained when she spoke. “Briar? How do you spell that?” A small, knowing smile touched my lips. “Like the tree. My guardian said she hoped I would grow strong and resilient, with deep roots and branches reaching for the sun. A beautiful sentiment, don’t you think?” Her expression remained strained, but a flicker of relief crossed her features. “Yes,” she said, the words forced. “A lovely meaning.” I accepted her hollow compliment with a polite nod, wondering if she was thinking, just for a second, of the child she had abandoned thousands of miles away. The one she had named Squeak. 2 I knew from a very young age that I was an abandoned child, taken in by my aunt and uncle. For years, I clung to the naive fantasy that my real mother would one day come back for me. I even made excuses for her, imagining she had her reasons, that she had no other choice. That fantasy shattered when I discovered she was a famous actress. She could have afforded to keep me. The simple, brutal truth was that she just didn’t want me. I also knew, from a young age, that I had an ugly name. Whenever my aunt was angry, she would beat me, her words as sharp as her blows. “Squeak! You little sewer rat! Do you know why you’re named Squeak? Because your mother never wanted to see you! She wanted you to spend your whole life hiding in the gutter like a rodent, never able to climb out! Ha!” I didn’t want to believe her. But when I found out my mother was a celebrity, it all made a sick kind of sense. Laura Lane wanted me to live my life in the shadows, scurrying and silent, never getting in her way. She didn’t just abandon me; she branded me with a name meant to keep me down. I was relentlessly bullied for it. Adults and children alike treated me like vermin. The neglect and abuse from my aunt and uncle left me scrawny and small for my age. Until middle school, everyone called me “Dead Rat” or “Filth.” The constant verbal abuse and social ostracism made my life a living hell. Then, in middle school, I met the first true angel of my life: my homeroom teacher, Ms. Gable. She was a kind, wise woman who saw past the grime and the name. When she learned about the bullying, she suggested I change my name. I had no idea that was even possible. I was hesitant. I hated the name, but it was the only link I had to the woman who gave birth to me. So Ms. Gable helped me. She changed “Squeak” to “Briar.” She told me I had a gift for learning and that she hoped I would grow into a strong, resilient woman, bearing fruit for the world. For the first time, I had a name with a beautiful meaning. And my life began to change. When I finished middle school, my aunt and uncle refused to let me continue my education. But Ms. Gable came to our house and argued with them. She even offered to pay for my high school tuition and living expenses out of her own pocket. Because of her, I was able to finish. After graduation, I lied to my aunt and uncle. I told them I’d failed my entrance exams and was moving to another state to work in a factory, promising to send them money every month. That was the only way I could escape to attend university. The state I’d named was a world away from Ashton City. In their minds, I would never cross paths with Laura Lane. After all, the hush money she sent them every year was substantial. They never would have dreamed that I would not only come to her city but run into her on my very first day. 3 Laura was visibly uncomfortable. The name Briar clearly bothered her. She quickly pulled Crystal away, stopping her from talking to me any further. She then produced an armful of expensive skincare products from her bag, reminding Crystal to use sunscreen religiously during orientation to protect her skin for an upcoming audition. At the mention of an audition, my roommates’ ears perked up, and they crowded around, full of questions. Laura and Crystal basked in the attention, their faces glowing with self-satisfaction. “Our Crystal was personally invited to audition by Director Kane’s team,” Laura announced proudly, her arm around Crystal’s shoulders. “It’s a massive project, adapted from a bestselling novel, with A-list stars already attached. It’s going to be a huge hit. And the role Crystal is auditioning for is incredibly endearing. She’s going to gain a massive fanbase.” She patted Crystal’s cheek affectionately. “My sweet, talented girl. You’re amazing.” Watching their nauseatingly intimate performance, I took a deep breath and looked away. Laura spoke as if the role was already Crystal’s. Director Kane… I dug a crumpled business card out of my backpack. I remembered the middle-aged man who had stopped me at the university gates, pressing it into my hand. I typed his full name, Michael Kane, into my phone’s search bar. Sure enough, news articles popped up about his new film, the very one Laura had been boasting about. I was stunned. Was this fate? Karma? A wild, unbelievable stroke of luck? I couldn’t articulate the feeling swirling in my gut. But if the universe was handing me an opportunity on a silver platter, who was I to refuse? I opened my contacts and added Director Kane. 4 I thought seeing Laura in person meant I was finally over it, that I could be indifferent. But that night, a dream proved me wrong. In the dream, a blurry figure held me gently. “Sweetheart, open your eyes. It’s Mommy.” Her warmth was like the winter sun, and I instinctively snuggled closer. No one had ever called me sweetheart. In the dream, I was a baby again, my entire being steeped in a honeyed bliss. I was floating, soft and warm, bubbling with a happiness I had never known. So this is what it felt like to be cherished. It was intoxicating. Mommy. I wanted to see her, the mother who loved me. I struggled to open my eyes. And I saw Laura Lane, her face twisted with venom. Her hands closed around my neck. “You jinx! If it weren’t for you, I would have been a superstar by now! You curse! You deserve to live your entire life in the shadows!” “No… no… Mommy…” I cried, struggling against her grip. The scene shifted. My drunken uncle was dragging me by the wrists into a room like I was a stray dog. My aunt was right behind him, beating me with a broom, screaming that I was a worthless little slut, trying to seduce men at such a young age. She managed to pull me away from him, and terrified, bruised, and bleeding, I ran out of the house and toward town. I didn’t know where to go. Ms. Gable found me wandering near the school and took me home. The dream ended with the image of her son, Alex, frowning at the sight of the dirty, battered girl standing on his doorstep. The intense shame and despair jolted me awake. My pillow was soaked with tears. 5 Not long after I contacted Director Kane, he called me in for an audition. Two weeks of orientation had left most of the students with a tan, but luckily, my skin doesn’t burn easily. After a brief reading, he clapped me on the shoulder, a wide grin on his face. “It’s like this role was written for you,” he said. From the short script I was given, I gathered that the character was a supporting role—a girl who was swapped at birth at the hospital, abused by her adoptive parents, but who, through sheer force of will, clawed her way out of the mud alongside the female lead. She eventually reunites with her wealthy biological parents and becomes the lead’s greatest ally. It was a fantastic character arc. Director Kane had a reputation for a reason; his eye for talent was sharp. It was uncanny how he had picked me out of a crowd, a girl who shared the character’s background and, to some extent, her life story. He kept the casting decision under wraps, so Crystal had no idea the role had already been filled. That evening in the dorm, she was doing her skincare routine and boasting about her audition the next day. “I’ll treat everyone to bubble tea when I get back to celebrate,” she announced. One of my roommates, Sasha, who was a local from Ashton City, was getting tired of Crystal’s constant bragging about a role she didn’t even have yet. “Hey, Crystal,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye, “why don’t you take Briar with you to the audition? She’s even prettier than you are. Maybe the director will give her a part too. Then we’ll have two celebrities in our dorm!” Crystal’s face contorted with rage at Sasha’s blunt comparison. “It takes more than a pretty face to be an actress,” she sneered. “Briar has no training and no connections. But if she’s interested, I could probably get her a role as an extra. She could start by playing a corpse. You have to start small, you know.” The “playing a corpse” line was a deliberate, pathetic attempt to humiliate me. “That sounds great,” I replied with a bright smile. “I’ve actually been reading up on acting lately. If an opportunity like that comes up, don’t forget about me!” I knew perfectly well she would never lift a finger to help me. The next day, Laura came to the university to pick Crystal up for the audition. For some reason, she seemed even more invested in this role than Crystal was. I pulled out my phone and texted Director Kane, asking if I could come to the set to observe. He readily agreed, joking that they were casting my character’s parents today, so I might as well come and see if I had any chemistry with the actors. As I approached the studio, I saw Laura and Crystal waiting outside. Laura was fussing over Crystal, straightening her hair, smoothing her clothes, playing the part of the devoted, anxious mother to perfection. When Crystal finally went inside and was handed the script, her face fell. It wasn’t the script for the supportive best friend. It was for the bitchy, backstabbing villain. She stumbled through the audition. Her dazed, confused state actually worked for the character, and the director was surprisingly pleased with her performance. He was ready to offer her the part on the spot. Crystal stammered that she wanted to try for the other role, and only then did the director inform her it had already been cast. Later, Laura came in to audition as well, and I finally understood why she was so obsessed with Crystal getting that part. She wanted to play the main character’s mother. With their carefully curated “mother-daughter” brand, if Crystal had landed the role of the best friend, Laura would have been a shoo-in for the part of her wealthy, elegant mother. But now, with Crystal cast as the villain, the director offered Laura the role of the villain’s mother—a crass, abusive, lower-class shrew. The two roles were polar opposites. One was a sophisticated society lady; the other was a vulgar harpy. Playing the latter would completely destroy the image Laura had spent years building. She was torn. She couldn’t bear to miss out on such a high-profile project, but she was terrified of what the role would do to her career. The look of tortured indecision on her face was almost comical. I sat among the crew, my face hidden by a mask. Neither of them saw me. Afterward, I was about to slip out the back when I overheard them whispering. “I’ve already asked around,” Laura was saying, trying to soothe a fuming Crystal. “No one got the script for the other role today. It’s probably not officially cast yet. When the director comes out, we’ll try to talk to him again.” “Godmother, I already told all my fans I was playing the good girl!” Crystal whined, pushing Laura’s hand away. “They’ve already started promoting it online! How am I supposed to explain that I’m now some nameless, evil side character?” “Don’t worry, darling,” Laura said, her voice tight with anxiety. “I know people. As long as the studio hasn’t made an official announcement, we can still figure something out.” As I walked past them, Crystal glanced at my retreating back. “Godmother, doesn’t that person look a little like my roommate, Briar?” Laura scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. What would that country bumpkin be doing here? Probably trying to get a job as an extra. Let’s not even talk about her. She’s bad luck.”

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There are two moments of profound vulnerability in love. The first is when you’re consumed by a burning passion for someone, desperate to make them yours, chasing them with everything you have. The second is when you know they don’t love you anymore, but you still can’t let go. I spent six years in the first moment. I spent five years in the second. 1 My husband’s first love came back to town. He sent me away on a business trip, then threw a lavish welcome-home party for her under the guise of a class reunion. When I arrived, I found him locked in a passionate, lingering kiss with Lydia. In a corner simmering with unspoken history, my sudden appearance cast a chilling frost over the warm reunion. The air grew thick and still. In the suffocating silence, Caleb dragged me into the restroom. His expression was glacial. “Are you trying to humiliate me on purpose, Julia?” I stared at his lips, swollen and red from the kiss, and my heart clenched. “Caleb, do you even see me as your wife?” He scoffed. “You really haven’t changed at all, have you? So damn needy.” His voice dripped with contempt. “I told you from the very beginning. There’s only one woman I’ll ever call my wife, and that’s Lydia.” “But Lydia’s already—” A slap, swift and merciless, cut me off. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, as if I were the one forcing him into this humiliating display of devotion to another woman. Utterly drained, I let out a slow breath. “Caleb, let’s get a divorce.” A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it hardened back into a sneer. “If anyone’s filing for divorce, it’ll be me.” His voice was low and menacing. “You, Julia, don’t have the right.” 2 I didn’t have the right. Any rights I had were scraps he’d thrown me from the start. Caleb had married me out of spite. Five years ago, after a fight with Lydia, he’d made a grand, public spectacle of confessing his feelings for me. The very next day, he received news of Lydia’s engagement—to his own cousin. Blinded by rage, he crashed their engagement party and then dragged me straight to City Hall. Why me? Because I was at my lowest point, a convenient prop to slap Lydia in the face with. Everyone said I was just the rebound, a pathetic second choice. I didn’t care. Because I loved Caleb. I’d loved him since I was seventeen. I loved him for shouting, “The cops are here!” in that dark alleyway. I loved the sound of the wind chime on his backpack, tinkling in the evening breeze. Most of all, I loved him for keeping my secret for two long years. I loved him, even knowing his heart belonged to someone else. After we married, I bent over backward for him. I was deferential, accommodating, managing every detail of our lives with meticulous care. In five years, his parents had come to adore me, showering me with praise. But Caleb remained as cold as ice. My sin? The day Lydia left the country, I’d locked him in our bedroom. He had been planning to follow her, but as the sole heir to the Sterling family, he was bound to stay. With nowhere to channel his fury, he dumped it all on me. I grew accustomed to his cruel words, his endless humiliations. But on those nights when he was drunk, when he’d cling to me, a drunken, weeping mess, crying out Lydia’s name… each syllable was a silver needle piercing my heart. In those moments, I’d lie to myself. I’d kiss him to silence his lips, and in the muffled sounds, I could pretend he was calling my name, pretend it was me he loved. But the fantasy would shatter the next morning with the sting of a careless slap, a brutal reminder of reality. Every glare, every word, was proof: he didn’t love me. He never would. In his eyes, my love was something shameful, something to be hidden. That’s why, for five years, he’d been relentlessly trying to divorce me. He used every trick in the book. He was photographed leaving exclusive clubs with models, spotted at karaoke bars with rising starlets. On our third anniversary, he staged a “drunken” call while I was away on business. I drove through the night, frantic with worry, only to walk in on a live show playing out in our living room. I flew into a rage, physically throwing the woman out. When I turned back, Caleb was lounging elegantly on the sofa in a silk robe. His mocking gaze cut through the haze of cigarette smoke, a blade twisting in my chest. He gestured lazily towards our marriage certificate on the coffee table. “Let’s find some time to take care of this.” He knew I’d rush back. He had orchestrated the whole thing. He wasn’t incapable of touching someone; he just didn’t want to touch me. His indifference was a net, closing in around me, condemning my love to a slow death. “If you’re tired, go rest,” I said, my voice steady as I took off my coat and began cleaning up the mess. “Make sure you shower. Women like that are filthy.” “Julia!” Caleb’s voice turned hard. “If you have any shred of dignity, you’ll sign the damn papers.” I ignored him. “If you’re hungry, I can make you some—” A sharp slap cut through my words. Caleb’s eyes were bloodshot, his tone dripping with scorn. “God, you’re pathetic, Julia! You think this will get you control of Sterling Corp? That clinging to this marriage will hand you the company?” He stared at me, his teeth clenched. “Keep dreaming.” He looked at me as if I were his mortal enemy. That day, staring at our marriage certificate, my world tilted. Dreaming. I had been dreaming all along. I thought my years of silent devotion had finally paid off, that I could finally love him out in the open. I was so sure that, with time, he would see my love was fiercer, more real than Lydia’s. How utterly ridiculous it all was. 3 I woke up in an unfamiliar room. My head felt like it was splitting open. “You’re awake?” The door opened and a man walked in. “Here, drink this. It’ll help with the hangover.” I looked at him, then down at my own naked body under the sheets. A cold sweat prickled my skin. He seemed to notice my panic. “What are you thinking?” he said, walking closer. He gently turned my face towards him, his eyes deep and knowing. “What, you’ve forgotten me already?” I stared at his face for a long moment before two words escaped my lips. “Liam…?” He smiled. “Long time no see, Julia.” Seeing him wasn’t strange in itself; he was Lydia’s husband. But seeing him here, now, was beyond strange. “How did I get here?” “You were wasted last night. I found you passed out on the street. Figured I’d carry you home before you froze to death.” Right. I remembered now. After storming out of the reunion, I’d called my friend Chloe and we’d gone drinking. “Where’s Chloe?” “Sleeping in the guest room.” “And… this?” I gestured to my state of undress. “You threw up all over yourself. I had someone help clean you up.” He said it so casually that I felt foolish for my suspicion. I managed an embarrassed laugh. “Thank you.” He shrugged. “Buy me dinner sometime.” I didn’t know much about Liam. He was Caleb’s cousin, a transfer student our sophomore year of high school. He was always quiet and shy, trailing after Caleb like a shadow, a habit that continued all the way through college. He handed me a set of clothes. “Borrowed these from my downstairs neighbor.” After a bit of small talk, he asked about Caleb and me. I guessed he hadn’t been at the reunion either. “We’re fine.” A faint smile played on his lips. “Fine? The two of them were practically devouring each other, and you call that fine?” I froze, then gave a bitter laugh. “Look who’s talking. Neither of us is in a position to judge the other.” “That’s where we’re different,” he said nonchalantly. “I don’t love Lydia.” “Then why did you marry her?” He pursed his lips. “Caleb doesn’t love you, but he married you, didn’t he?” He was always brutally honest. I fell silent. “So,” he began, his tone suddenly hesitant, “are you really going to divorce him?” I looked at him, surprised. “I was in the restroom yesterday. I… overheard you two talking.” His voice got quieter and quieter, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Just angry words.” He looked vaguely disappointed. I didn’t stay long. I stopped by the office, then went home. Caleb was in the living room, eating lunch alone. He looked me up and down. “You weren’t home last night. Or at the office. Where were you?” “Meeting a client,” I said, shrugging off the ill-fitting coat. His face darkened. “Julia, if you dare cheat on me, I’ll make sure everyone pays.” How ironic. He could cheat, but I couldn’t. “If you can’t handle it, let’s just get divorced,” I said wearily. “Are you threatening me, Julia?” He slammed his fork on the table. “Don’t you dare use my father against me!” He was the one who wanted a divorce, and now he was the one fighting it. I glanced at his furious face and turned towards the bedroom. “Whatever you want, Caleb.” “Julia, you get back here! You—” The bedroom door clicked shut, silencing his shouts. I collapsed onto the bed, a strange emptiness hollowing me out. They say that with enough time, a man can mistake constant companionship and care for love. Why didn’t that work for me? Until yesterday, I’d never seriously considered divorcing him. Or rather, I never thought I needed his love to sustain our marriage. I was content to be the one who loved without reciprocation, to keep the peace by always backing down. I just wanted to be by his side, at least until something truly unforgivable happened. Just like that year in the alley, when he stood silhouetted against the light, neither stepping forward nor walking away… The ringing of my phone shattered my thoughts. It was my sister, her voice choked with sobs. “Julia… Mom’s not going to make it.” In that instant, everything else faded away. I bolted out the door, not even hearing whatever Caleb was shouting behind me. 4 The hospital room was filled with muffled sobs, and the heavy scent of antiseptic stung my hungover senses. My mother lay peacefully on the bed. For a moment, I was transported back to those nights eleven years ago, when I’d stood guard outside her room with a knife in my hand. Back then, my father’s business had failed, leaving us with a mountain of debt before he jumped from a building. My mother cried herself sick, and soon the debt collectors had her hospitalized. My sister, to pay off the debts, married a much older man and was thrown into the vipers’ nest of his family’s internal power struggles. And I was seventeen. Powerless. Caleb’s mother was comforting my sister. Caleb himself handed me a cup of hot water. “If you need anything, just ask.” He had already done so much. The money he’d donated had given my mother eleven more years with me. “Thank you.” He seemed unsatisfied with my reply. “If you need to cry, I can—” Overwhelmed, I pulled him into a hug. “Caleb, thank you.” He didn’t push me away. He just gently patted my back, a tenderness I’d never felt from him before. After that, Caleb changed. The sarcasm and coldness vanished, replaced by patience and even warmth. He started accompanying me to corporate events, would playfully whine for my attention in public, and even made me porridge when my stomach ached from drinking too much at business dinners. When rumors started to spread, he posted a picture of himself stealing a kiss from me on social media. He was showing the world how much he loved me. But I knew the truth. It was all a calculated performance to make Lydia jealous. At the charity gala, he was radiant in a custom-tailored suit. Even Lydia, who usually ignored him, couldn’t help but steal a few glances. As the top donor, he stood on stage with Lydia, the event’s host. They were a picture-perfect couple, their witty banter earning thunderous applause. Everyone was whispering what a perfect match they were. When the host teased them, Lydia basked in the attention, but Caleb shook his head. “My wife is actually here tonight,” he announced. A spotlight swung onto me, forcing me to my feet. Under the intense glare of the crowd, Caleb recounted the story of our five years together, a curated tale of struggles and affection, culminating in another heartfelt confession of his love for me. Beside him, Lydia’s smile tightened. After the speeches, they both approached me. “Mrs. Sterling, good to see you again,” Lydia said. Her tone was technically polite, but the formality was a deliberate jab. “I didn’t get a chance to catch up with you at the reunion. Caleb was so disappointed.” I offered a tight smile. “You’ve just returned, Ms. Vance. I’m sure you’re busy. If there’s anything you need, please let us know.” The rumor was that Lydia’s company was in financial trouble. She arched an eyebrow. “Actually, there is a small favor I’d like to ask.” Her gaze shifted to Caleb. “When I was abroad, my mother spoke of Caleb constantly. She’s fallen ill recently, and I was wondering if you might be free tonight?” Caleb’s expression was unreadable. “Tonight, I’m afraid…” “Caleb?” Lydia ignored me, her voice softening as she spoke his name. “You know how frail my mother is. She just wants to see you.” Her hand crept to his waist, a subtle, possessive touch. I looked at Caleb, then tightened my grip on the hand I was holding. He looked down, hesitated, then his gaze hardened. I felt the warmth in my palm slowly drain away until I was holding nothing but air. Without a word of explanation, he turned and walked away, the grand declaration of love from moments before dissolving like a scene from a play. “That’s a pretty flimsy excuse.” Liam had appeared out of nowhere, swirling the wine in his glass as he watched Caleb’s retreating figure. He clicked his tongue. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. It wasn’t the first time he’d abandoned me, so why did my stupid heart still ache? I snatched the glass from Liam’s hand and downed it in one go. “I’m buying you dinner tonight. You in?” 5 Liam agreed without hesitation. After the gala, we met at a restaurant. He’d changed into a wine-red silk shirt that, with his slightly wavy hair, looked incredibly charming. In the flickering candlelight, I let my words become dangerously playful. “I never realized you had such a flamboyant side,” I teased. He smiled sideways at me. “You used to have eyes only for Caleb. There was no room for anyone else.” “Was I that obvious?” He chuckled and pulled out his phone, opening his photo album. As he spoke, he swiped through picture after picture, presenting them like evidence. In each one, a younger me stared wistfully at Caleb’s back, a lonely outsider on the fringes of his life. The space between us shrank. The intoxicating scent of his cologne filled my senses. On impulse, I reached out and touched his face, so strikingly similar to Caleb’s. “Do you love me?” I whispered. A blush crept up his neck to the tips of his ears. He pulled back, popping a spicy pepper into his mouth. It was so hot his eyes started to water. He dodged the question. “Caleb can handle spice this intense?” I realized I’d crossed a line. I reined in my emotions and handed him a glass of water. “Oh, him? He can’t live without it.” “And you? Do you love it?” he asked, the question hanging in the air. “I mean, do you love spicy food?” I shook my head with a small smile. “What about sweets? Like cake? Cookies?” In high school, Caleb would sometimes give me things like that, little acts of charity. “I don’t mind them.” “You have to come over to my place sometime, then. Try my baking.” He looked at me, his smile as tempting as a dew-kissed rose. As if possessed, I heard myself agree. As we were leaving, he pointed to the bouquet of roses on the passenger seat of my car. “If no one wants those, can I have them?” He cradled the flowers with a look of pure contentment. “I remember, today is your fifth anniversary with Caleb.” A day that everyone else remembered. I felt a pang of guilt. “Sorry for dragging you into my drama tonight.” “I had a great time,” he said, holding up the roses. “It’s been a while since I got flowers.” “Doesn’t Lydia love sending flowers to men?” Liam gently stroked a petal. “She and I divorced two years ago,” he said quietly. “…That’s good,” I murmured, my eyes on the roses. “A one-sided marriage never lasts long.” He gave me a meaningful smile. “No, it doesn’t. And a one-sided love is always bound to be… vulnerable.” 6 I’d heard it said there are two moments of profound vulnerability in love. The first is when you’re consumed by a burning passion for someone, desperate to make them yours, chasing them with everything you have. The second is when you know they don’t love you anymore, but you still can’t let go. I spent six years in the first moment. I spent five years in the second. I presented the divorce agreement during a Sterling family dinner, right in front of Caleb’s parents. The two of them looked grave; Caleb, as usual, was a mask of cold indifference. He broke the silence by pulling me into the bedroom. “Do you really think this is amusing?” No. It wasn’t amusing at all. “You know my dad will never agree. Is being Vice President not enough for you anymore? Are you after my position, too?” “Caleb,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “That year, in the alley… why did you help me?” He frowned. “And the donation money… it was from you, wasn’t it? Why did you tell me it was a fundraiser?” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It seemed he wouldn’t grant me even a sliver of warmth to hold onto. A lump formed in my throat. “I just want to know. In these five years, have you ever loved me? Even for a second, did you ever feel anything?” I knew it was a stupid, self-defeating question, but I needed an answer—either to soothe my soul or to finally kill it. His anger subsided, replaced by a complicated look. “The day we got our license, I made it very clear. We live our own lives. We don’t interfere with each other.” “Then why didn’t you bring that up when you were enjoying—exploiting—my care and devotion?” “That was your choice!” he snapped, pulling his hand away from mine. “You were the one who insisted! Am I supposed to be responsible for your one-sided obsession forever?” The cheapest things in the world, I realized, are the things freely given. A sincere heart that costs nothing. A gentle nature that achieves nothing. A love that never wavers. I laughed at myself, a bitter, hollow sound. But with the laughter came a surprising sense of release. “You gave me a chance to repay my debt. When we divorce, I won’t take a single thing.” I’d always refused to divorce him, partly because I still held onto a sliver of hope, and partly because his father wouldn’t let me go—five years ago, when Sterling Corp was on the brink of collapse, I had worked myself to the bone for over a year to bring it back. Now, the company was stable. The debt was repaid. And my love had been worn to nothing. “I told you, I’m the only one who can initiate a divorce.” He always had to have the upper hand. I had no energy left to argue. I turned to leave. “I’ll speak to your father about—” “Lydia’s pregnant!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394027”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On a variety show, my celebrity daughter claimed she felt like an outsider at home, saying, “They always tell me, ‘If you’re so capable, go fend for yourself.’” The internet rallied behind her, shoving a mic in my face, demanding an explanation. “Explain what?” I finally said. “That she gave me a snake necklace, cockroach earrings, and a toad music box? Or when she tried to eat mercury like candy? Or dug up the wrong grave at midnight?” Silence fell—then public opinion flipped. 【They only told you to leave? They should’ve beaten you. Kids remember wrongs, not the full story… When will her parents recover from her trauma?】 1 The phone rang while I was repotting an orchid. The caller ID read “Nora the Fearless,” my special nickname for my daughter, Nora. She’s been daring since she was a little girl, and that boldness eventually led her straight into the entertainment industry, where she became one of the few female action stars who does all her own stunts. “Mom, you busy? Come be on a variety show with me.” Nora’s voice was crisp and direct, just like her. I instinctively frowned, my hands pausing over the soil. “No, thanks.” “I can’t fight, and I definitely can’t scale a tree in ten seconds.” A weary sigh came through the phone. “Mom, what are you talking about? It’s not that kind of show.” She sounded exasperated. “It’s a family show that promotes career equality. They invite celebrities from different fields to bring their family members who have other professions. It’s to show people what different jobs are really like.” “Dad’s off studying a volcano in another country and won’t be back for a while,” she added. “Otherwise, we could have all gone together.” Hearing that, my heart softened a bit. My husband, Walter, is a geologist who spends his life chasing active volcanoes around the globe. We rarely get to be together as a family. But I was still wary. TV shows always have a gimmick. “Are you sure there’s no mortal danger? I don’t have to jump off a cliff or wrestle an alligator, do I?” “Mom!” Nora’s voice shot up half an octave before she reined it in, a note of exasperated amusement in her tone. “Can you just trust me for once? It’s just talking and playing some games. Totally safe.” To convince me, she did something she hadn’t done in years. She drew out the last word, her voice taking on an almost pleading, whiny quality. “Please, Mom?” I froze. The trowel in my hand clattered to the floor. Ever since Nora started her martial arts training, the word “cutesy” had been permanently erased from her vocabulary. She was tough, independent, and never showed a hint of weakness. I had teased her more than once, asking her to act cute for me, but she always stood her ground, saying, “Mom, I’m not a little girl anymore. That’s so cringey.” Now, that long-lost, slightly awkward plea felt like a warm current melting in my chest. I was secretly thrilled but decided to play it cool. “Just asking isn’t enough.” “Huh?” “How about this,” I said, clearing my throat to hide my smile. “You owe me one. The next time I ask you to act cute, you have to do it just like you did today. Then I’ll agree.” There was a full five seconds of silence on the other end, followed by a shouted, “Deal!” Then she hung up. Beaming, I wiped my hands and sent a text to my husband. Walt, I’ve got something amazing to show you when you get back. Our daughter knows how to be cute again! The message went out into the void. He was probably in some signal-dead zone near a volcano again. 2 On the day of the first recording, I arrived at the studio as promised. Nora’s team was waiting for me at the entrance and led me to a private dressing room backstage. The show was called The Other Side of the Job, and the theme was genuinely interesting. In today’s hyper-connected world, professional stereotypes have become more entrenched than ever. The show aimed to break those down by inviting celebrities and their family members from different professions to promote career equality. Nora, a rising action star, was at the peak of her popularity. Her fight scenes were clean and powerful, and she never used a stunt double or complained about the grueling work. That grit had earned her a solid place in the industry. But it also fueled all sorts of speculation about her family background. Many people just assumed that for a girl to be that tough, she must have come from a difficult home that forced her to be that way. I had just sat down in the dressing room when a young assistant handed me a tablet displaying the live comments from the stream. 【Nora’s mom is finally making an appearance? I’m so curious about her.】 【My guess? She’s from the countryside, probably favors sons over daughters, which is why Nora is so desperate to prove herself.】 【From the glimpse in the promo, she dresses pretty plainly. Probably just a housewife. Maybe she has a son to support too. Ugh, being the older sister is always the worst.】 【Stop making stuff up. But judging by Nora’s intensity, her family probably isn’t well-off.】 I read the comments with a small, amused smile. A son? One Nora the Fearless was more than enough to handle. Another one would probably tear this family apart. I put the tablet aside. Before long, there was a knock on the door, and the other two sets of guests arrived. The producers had arranged a common lounge area for everyone to get acquainted. The first pair to walk in was the popular singer-songwriter, Evan, and his girlfriend, Cobie. Cobie wrote the lyrics for almost all of Evan’s songs, and they were widely considered the industry’s golden couple. They certainly looked the part, whispering and smiling, their affection for each other impossible to hide. The other pair was the award-winning actress, Maya, and her younger sister, Stella. Maya was a household name, known for her humility. She greeted us warmly, her smile genuine. Nora responded politely. “Nora, it’s been a while! I saw your new movie. Your fighting was incredible,” Maya said with sincere admiration. “You’re too kind, Maya,” Nora replied. But the sister trailing behind her was a different story entirely. Stella’s chin was tilted high, her eyes scanning the room with undisguised disdain. She glanced at Evan and Cobie, a smirk playing on her lips. “A trashy songwriter, worthy of being on the same show as us?” Evan and Cobie’s faces fell, but they were too well-mannered to say anything. Then, Stella’s gaze shifted to Nora and me. She looked Nora’s casual, athletic wear up and down, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “You reek of sweat. So gross. All that fighting… you don’t look like a girl at all.” 3 The air in the room instantly turned to ice. Nora’s expression hardened, and her hands, resting on her knees, clenched into fists. I gently patted her hand, signaling her to stay calm. “Stella!” Maya’s face darkened, and she immediately reprimanded her. “That’s incredibly rude! Apologize to everyone, now!” But Stella clearly had no respect for her older sister. She just snorted dismissively. “Apologize for what? I’m just telling the truth. What’s so great about you, huh? You just got into the industry a few years before me and got lucky with an award. Just you wait. In a few years, I’ll be way more famous than you.” With that, she smoothed down her expensive designer dress and stormed out of the dressing room. Maya’s face flushed with embarrassment. She took a deep breath and turned to us, her expression full of apology. “I’m so sorry. My sister… she’s new to the industry and has been spoiled by our family. She can be arrogant and doesn’t think before she speaks. Please, forgive her.” Evan managed a tight smile and squeezed his girlfriend’s hand. “It’s fine, Maya. We don’t mind.” I also nodded with a smile. “It’s alright. Young people can be a bit fiery.” We all tacitly agreed to move on from the awkward moment. A staff member soon came to get us for the show. I glanced at the tablet the assistant had placed on the table. The comment section had exploded. 【OMG, who is this Stella? How can she talk like that in front of everyone?】 【She’s always been like this. She’s had good connections from the start, so it’s no surprise she’s arrogant.】 【To be fair, she’s a decent actress. Her supporting roles have been pretty good. What she’s like in private doesn’t matter to us viewers.】 【Are you kidding me? Rude is rude. It has nothing to do with her talent. I feel bad for Nora and Evan.】 The bright spotlights hit us, shutting out the backstage drama. The host’s enthusiastic voice filled the studio, and the show officially began. “Welcome, everyone, to The Other Side of the Job!” the host announced, holding a stack of cue cards. “Today, we have three very special sets of guests who will share with us the untold stories behind their careers and families.” The show proceeded as planned. The first segment was a warm-up, where the guests introduced themselves and their family members’ professions. The microphone was first passed to Maya. She was dressed in an elegant champagne-colored gown, her makeup flawless. As a celebrated actress, she hardly needed an introduction. The host showered her with praise, discussing everything from her classic roles to her recent international awards. The studio audience and the online comments were full of applause. “Maya, today you’ve brought your younger sister, Stella, is that right?” the host asked. “Stella is also a rising star in our industry. Welcome!” The host turned the microphone to Stella. She adjusted her dress and took the mic, a look of entitled pride on her face. “Hello, I’m Stella.” Her introduction was curt, as if any more words would be a waste of her breath. 4 The moment she finished speaking, I glanced at the tablet. The comments were already flying. 【Didn’t they say family members from other professions? Why did the actress bring her actress sister?】 【Isn’t that against the rules? What was the production team thinking?】 【What do you think? Connections, obviously. Look at her, so full of herself.】 【Her sister Maya is so nice, though. How can they be so different?】 The host, a seasoned professional, clearly saw the feedback and quickly smoothed things over. “While both Stella and Maya are in the entertainment industry, one is an established, award-winning actress, and the other is a promising newcomer. They are at completely different stages of their careers, facing different challenges. In a way, they represent the ‘other side’ within the industry itself, don’t you think?” His explanation was flawless, temporarily quelling the online chatter. The microphone was then passed to Evan. He seemed a bit nervous, tightening his grip on Cobie’s hand. He briefly introduced himself as a singer and then looked lovingly at the girl beside him. “There’s been a lot of speculation about my personal life online, and I’ve never officially addressed it,” he began, his voice clear and steady. “Today, I want to take this opportunity to properly introduce someone. This is Cobie. Not only is she the brilliant lyricist behind many of my songs, but she’s also been my girlfriend for many years.” The studio erupted in cheers and applause. Cobie blushed but squeezed Evan’s hand and smiled at the camera. The comment section exploded. 【AHHHH! It’s official! My ship has sailed!】 【I KNEW IT! The lyrics were too sweet not to be written by a real couple!】 【Nooo, my man is taken… but I’m happy for them. They look so perfect together.】 【A real-life fairy tale. They’re meant to be!】 I watched them, a warmth spreading through my chest. It was a beautiful thing to see young people in love so openly. Finally, the host’s attention turned to Nora and me. “And last but not least, let’s welcome the incredibly popular action star, Nora, and her… very mysterious mother!” All eyes were on us. As the toughest and most daring actress of her generation, Nora had always been shrouded in mystery. She never spoke about her family, and her parents had never appeared in public. The speculation about us could fill a hundred-episode drama series. Nora took the microphone, her words as concise as ever. “Hello, everyone. I’m Nora. This is my mom, Sue.” The host smiled at me. “Hello, Sue. We are all so curious. With a daughter as amazing as Nora, we all want to know what kind of family raised her. What do you and Nora’s father do for a living?” I looked at the camera and spoke calmly. “Her father’s name is Walter. He’s a geologist who studies volcanic activity and is often abroad.” A small murmur of surprise went through the audience. Geologist—a profession that felt distant and foreign to most. I paused, then continued. “My name is Sue. I’m a craftsman. I create handmade items related to our country’s intangible cultural heritage.” 5 After I spoke, the studio was quiet for a few seconds. The live comments, however, went wild. 【A geologist? A cultural heritage craftsman? What kind of power couple is this?】 【One chases volcanoes, the other makes crafts… sounds like they’re never home.】 【No wonder Nora is so independent. She basically raised herself.】 【This is kind of sad. It’s like her parents live in their own worlds, and she had to fight her way through life alone. So tough.】 【So the rumors about her coming from a poor family are half-true? Not financially poor, but definitely lacking in parental love and attention.】 The host, a true pro, immediately seized on the emotional thread in the comments and moved to the next segment. “After hearing your introductions, I’ve noticed something interesting,” he said. “The influence of family on each person is so different. So, let’s talk about that. How has your family influenced your career path?” He once again gave the first question to Maya. Her story was well-known. She spoke candidly about growing up in a poor, single-parent household. She had entered the entertainment industry simply because a scout had noticed her looks, and it was a quick way to make money and improve their lives. “But it’s strange,” she said, her voice filled with nostalgia. “I started out just trying to survive, but when you truly immerse yourself in it, experiencing different lives and creating different characters, you slowly fall in love with it. Acting became the most important part of my life.” Her story was sincere and moving, and the comments were full of praise. 【A true self-made woman. She fought for everything she has.】 【Started for the money, but stayed for the love. That’s a career ‘marriage of convenience’ that turned into real love.】 【Her mom has remarried and is happy now, and Maya is successful. It’s a happy ending after a hard life.】 When it was Stella’s turn, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. She pouted, her tone dripping with superiority and resentment. “My sister had no choice back then. I’m different. I genuinely love acting. And I think I’m more talented than her. She just got an early start.” She lifted her chin and declared to the camera, “In the future, I’ll definitely be more successful than her. I’ll win more awards and become a true star.” The statement made the studio audience uncomfortable. Maya’s smile was strained. She patted her sister’s hand gently. “It’s good to have dreams. Just work hard.” The online comments were less forgiving. 【I can’t with her. What kind of thing is that to say?】 【She’s so ungrateful. Without her sister, she wouldn’t have any of the opportunities she has now.】 【Her emotional intelligence is zero. She’s embarrassing her sister on national television.】 【She really thinks she’s all that, completely oblivious to the fact that she’s standing on the shoulders of a giant.】 Stella clearly saw the live feedback. Her face flushed, and she opened her mouth to argue. Just as a sisterly fight was about to break out on live TV, the host deftly cut her off, swiftly turning the microphone to Nora, who had been silent all this time. The cameras followed, focusing on my daughter. “Nora!” the host’s voice was leading. “After hearing your mother’s introduction, everyone is even more curious about your upbringing. We all know that being an action star is incredibly difficult. Injuries are common, and many male actors can’t handle it, let alone a young woman. So, we’re all wondering, why did you choose this path?” He paused, his gaze sharp, and threw the question that had been brewing online for ages directly at her. “Many people believe that for a girl to be so tough, so willing to endure hardship, she must have come from a very difficult family, or lacked love and care growing up, forcing her onto this path as a way to prove herself. What do you have to say about that?” 6 In an instant, the air in the studio seemed to freeze. All the lights, all the cameras, all the gazes—sympathetic, speculative, curious—formed an invisible net around my daughter. Nora held the microphone, silent for a moment. Then she lifted her head, her eyes meeting the camera directly. There was no trace of self-pity, only a straightforward honesty. “Yes, the host is right,” she began, her voice clear and strong. “My choice to take this path is definitely related to my family.” A wave of murmurs swept through the audience. The live comments ignited. “Even though I’m their biological child,” she continued, her words deliberate and clear, “I always felt like an outsider in my own home.” “They were always telling me to get out, saying, ‘If you’re so capable, go fend for yourself.’” My eyelid twitched. This child… her memory was bad enough, but did she have to take everything so literally? Her words, however, were like a drop of water in a hot skillet. The comments exploded. The screen was flooded with messages like “I feel so bad for Nora,” “Hugs, queen,” and “What kind of garbage parents are these?” A flicker of excitement crossed the host’s face. He had found the show’s dramatic high point. He pushed the microphone closer to Nora, encouraging her to continue. And she didn’t disappoint. Seeming to gain momentum from his encouragement, she nodded eagerly. “Exactly! When I was a kid, I watched Jackie Chan Adventures, and I thought Jade was so cool—smart and a great fighter. I wanted to be just like her. I figured someone that awesome could definitely fend for herself and wouldn’t have to put up with anyone’s crap.” She started rambling, recounting what sounded like an inspiring backstory. “So I decided to find a master and learn real skills. Then no one could bully me or kick me out ever again. Now I’ve succeeded. I can support myself. Looking back, I don’t really hold any grudges.” She finished with a magnanimous smile, as if she were a queen who had risen above her past. The sympathy for her in the comments reached its peak. She was hailed as “a clear-headed queen” and “the epitome of an independent woman.” At the same time, the criticism aimed at my husband and me was relentless. 【They had a kid but didn’t raise her, or raised her poorly.】 【How do parents like that deserve such an amazing daughter?】 【I say cut them off. The queen should reign alone!】 The host turned the microphone to me at the perfect moment, his face a mask of concern and curiosity. “Sue, do you have anything to say in response to what Nora has shared? We all want to know what really happened.” I was at a loss for words. I looked at my daughter, who wore an expression that said, “I’m just telling the truth,” and couldn’t help but ask her, “Have you really forgotten?” Nora blinked, confused. “Forgotten what?” “The host is asking if there’s some hidden story,” I said, taking the microphone but ignoring his question. I looked directly at my daughter. “There’s no hidden story. I just want to help you remember why we told you to get out.” I paused, then delivered the first piece of evidence. “Do you remember the birthday present you gave me when you were eight? A bright green snake you said I could wear as a necklace. A pair of shiny cockroaches you said could be dried and worn as earrings. And a croaking toad you claimed was a singing music box.” A collective gasp went through the studio. Nora’s mouth hung slightly open as she tried to recall the memory. “When we told you to get out,” I continued, “we meant for you to get out with those ‘presents’ and not bring them in the house.” “And as for us telling you to ‘fend for yourself’… that was because you broke a mercury thermometer and were holding the mercury in your mouth like it was candy. When we caught you, you argued that you’d read in a book that mercury was a heavy metal, so it would keep you full. When we scolded you, you got upset and threatened to starve yourself. That’s when we said, ‘If you’re so capable, go fend for yourself.’” The atmosphere in the studio started to shift. I could hear suppressed laughter from the audience. “And then there was the time you said you missed your grandpa, so you went to dig up his grave in the middle of the night…” Before I could finish, Nora’s face turned bright red. “Mom!” So she did feel embarrassed. I ignored her and continued into the microphone. “We understood that you missed your grandpa. But you dug up the wrong grave. It was our neighbor, Mr. Henderson’s. When we found you, you were digging alongside the family dog. And you were digging faster than he was.”

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After my boyfriend stormed out over the litter box (again), I didn’t chase him. This time, I just stood there— —until text flooded my vision: 【He’s waiting right outside!】 【Open the door and he’ll cook for you】 【He’s insecure! Just say ‘I love you’ and he’d die for you】 【Hurry! He’s digging nails into his palms!】 My hand hovered over the knob… Then my phone buzzed: “We’re done. Be gone when I’m back.” “Okay.” 1 I put my phone down, wiped my tears, and pulled out my suitcase. 【Oh, he’s just being difficult. He’s dying to come back and make up with her, but he’s too proud to admit it. Is this what insecurity looks like?】 【Yeah, his parents divorced when he was a kid and they both remarried right away. He was basically abandoned. Chloe knows all this! Why is she actually packing? Honey, don’t! He loves you so much, how will he live without you?】 【Don’t listen to a word he says when he’s angry! If you just open the door, he’ll come back wagging his tail. Don’t really pack your things! What will he do if you leave?】 【There is no one on this earth who loves you more than him! You were together through high school, all four years of college, you were supposed to get married! Don’t do this, you’re his whole world! What about him? What about Jellybean?】 I ignored the floating text and started packing. I’d lost count of how many times this had happened. Every time he broke up with me, he told me to move out. And every time we made up, he’d cling to me, all sweet and clingy, and tell me he didn’t mean it. I remember the first time Chad told me to leave. I was terrified. We were supposed to go on a trip the next day, so I’d stayed late at work to make sure everything was handled. I wanted to be able to relax and enjoy our vacation. But to Chad, my working late meant I didn’t care about our trip. He wouldn’t listen to my explanations. He didn’t care that I’d gotten home at eleven and hadn’t even had dinner. He just shoved my suitcase at me and slammed the door in my face. No matter how much I begged and explained through the door, he wouldn’t open it. I stood outside in the hallway all night, starving. It was the middle of winter, and he’d pushed me out without even letting me grab a coat. I shivered uncontrollably, but he never once came out to check on me. If my neighbor hadn’t found me passed out from low blood sugar and pounded on the door until Chad finally came out, who knows what would have happened. That time, Chad had been scared to death. When I woke up, he swore up and down, promising me, “Chloe, I love you so much.” “If I say things when I’m angry, you can’t take them seriously, okay?” “You know how insecure I am. If you just give me that sense of security, I’ll be fine.” And I believed him. So, every time we fought after that and he told me to leave, I knew he was just saying it out of anger. I knew he was difficult. I knew he was insecure. I made my entire life revolve around him. But now… I was just so tired. Eight years. Eight years of me always being the one to give in, of being kicked out every time he got mad. I was done. 2 It didn’t take long to pack. I made myself a cup of instant noodles. I felt a tug at my ankle and looked down. It was Jellybean. The moment I knelt, she jumped into my lap. Jellybean originally belonged to one of Chad’s junior classmates in college. The girl had gotten bored of her after two weeks. Chad brought her home, and she became my responsibility. Cleaning the litter box, taking her for baths, shots, deworming—it was all on me. And if I was ever late with any of it, Chad would give me a cold look and say, “I only brought her home because you said you liked her. When did you become so irresponsible, Chloe?” This time, the fight had started because I hadn’t changed her litter box and the apartment smelled. As I ate my noodles, I scrolled through my phone and saw that his old classmate had posted on her feed. 【QAQ, my poor, homeless senior. I guess I can take you in for a bit. (๑>ᴗ<๑)】 The picture was a half-shot of Chad in a bar, holding a drink. 【Poor guy. See? He’s drunk, but his eyes are glued to his phone. He’s still thinking about her!!】 【Don’t be mad, Chloe! He’s just trying to make you jealous by having her over. He doesn’t like her at all, she’s just a pawn!】 【Yeah, look at him, he’s about to burn a hole through his phone with his eyes. Just send him one text and he’ll come running back like a puppy.】 Before I could finish reading, a video came through from an unknown number. In the video, Chad was leaning against a woman’s chest, his eyes closed. “Chad,” the woman cooed, “if you spend the night at my place, do you think your girlfriend will finally leave you?” Chad scoffed. “Give her a couple of days. She’ll be begging me to come back.” The woman giggled. “So she’s a clingy one, huh? The kind you can’t get rid of?” I held my breath. And then I heard Chad’s low murmur. “Yeah.” The video ended there. I stared at the noodles in front of me, but I couldn’t take another bite. So that’s what it was. All my concessions, all my attempts to understand him… to him, and to everyone else, I was just a pathetic girl who would come running whenever he called. A doormat. I looked at the noodles, now cold, a layer of grease congealing on the surface. It was disgusting. 3 Eight years of my life, and all that was left was one small suitcase. “Meow, meow…” Jellybean seemed to sense something was wrong and latched onto my pant leg. I hesitated. But I had been the one taking care of her for the past year. Chad clearly didn’t want the responsibility. I scooped her up and took her with me. It was two in the morning by the time I checked into a hotel. The next morning, I was already browsing apartment listings. Within an hour, I found a small studio near my office. It was tiny, but it would cut my commute by almost an hour each way. When we first graduated, we lived somewhere else. But Chad was a heavy sleeper. I could never wake him up in the morning, and he’d been reprimanded at work twice for being late. I was the one who suggested we move closer to his office. Back then, I thought love could conquer all. An extra hour on the train didn’t matter, as long as it made his life easier. Later, when his startup took off, he bought a condo near his new office. We’d been there for three years. Now, all that time I spent commuting would be mine again. I moved into the new apartment that day. “Chloe, you’re still here? You’re going to miss the last train,” a coworker reminded me as I was working late. I shook my head, my eyes on the unfinished report. “It’s okay, I moved closer to the office. I’ll go home when I’m done.” “Wow! Chloe, you finally did it?” My coworkers had been telling me for ages that wasting two hours a day on a train was insane. After work, a few of us went out for a late dinner to celebrate my new place. I got home exhausted and fell straight into bed. The next day, just as I was leaving the office, I got a text from one of Chad’s friends. 【Hey, did you and Chad have a fight? He’s at my place, completely wasted.】 I hesitated for a moment. 【We didn’t fight. We broke up.】 He immediately replied with a voice message, his tone lecturing. 4 “Come on, Chloe, that’s not fair. You know what he’s like. How many times has he said you were breaking up? How many times did he actually mean it?” “You used to be so understanding. Why are you being so stubborn this time?” “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you come over now and say a few nice words, he’ll probably cool down and go home with you.” “But if you don’t, and he actually decides to end things for real, you’ll be the one crying.” It was laughable. After all these years, even his friends were convinced I couldn’t live without him. Before I could reply, he hung up. Then, he sent an address. I blocked the number. They were Chad’s friends, not mine. Now that we were broken up, there was no reason to keep them in my life. 【Is she really angry? He was just giving her an out by having his friend call. Couples shouldn’t stay mad at each other.】 【Yeah, that’s just his personality. He’s difficult, but he’s crazy about her. He even gave up his dream college to go to the same one as her. She’s just upset right now. He’s already thrown up three times, he’s going to hurt himself.】 【Is it just me, or is he being a total drama queen? Why is it that when a girl acts like this, she’s being dramatic, but when a guy does it, he’s just ‘difficult’ and ‘insecure’? It’s just as annoying.】 I saw that last comment and couldn’t help but smile bitterly. They were right. Chad was a drama queen. It wasn’t so bad when we first started dating. But after he gave up his dream school for me, he became more and more demanding. Every time we fought, if I didn’t immediately grovel, one of his friends would call. They’d remind me of his great sacrifice, and ask me how I could be so cruel. How could I live with myself? But when we were applying to college, I told him over and over that I was fine with a long-distance relationship. That no matter how far apart we were, he would always be the most important person in my life. But he insisted on applying to the same school as me. When I saw his application, I asked him again and again if he was sure, if this was what he really wanted. He didn’t say a word. The day after the application deadline, he got blackout drunk. His friends called me, accusing me of forcing him to go to the same school as me. That’s when I found out that our university hadn’t been his first choice. But by then, I was so moved by his gesture. I rushed over and took him home. But for years after that, every time he was unhappy, every time he acted out, his friends would blame me. They’d list all the things he’d given up for me. After a while, I got tired of hearing it. It was like I was forever indebted to him for that one decision. “Chloe, come on, let’s go eat.” 5 It was a late night at the office, and everyone was too tired to order in. So, we decided to go out for a late dinner. In the past, I rarely joined them because I lived so far away and was afraid of missing the last train. But now that they knew I lived nearby, they insisted I come. I figured I had nothing better to do, so I went along. There were five or six of us. We went to a popular restaurant, and then to a bar. As soon as we sat down, I noticed a noisy group at the table next to ours. I glanced over and saw Chad and his friends. And of course, his little shadow, Lila, was there too. “Chad, you lost! Kiss someone in the bar for three minutes! Go, go, go!” They were playing truth or dare. My eyes met Chad’s for a split second. I looked away without a second thought. Chad seemed to pause for a moment before he drawled, “Fine.” A cheer went up from his table. “Wow, Chad’s actually playing along tonight! Who are you gonna pick? Hahahaha!” Someone teased, “We’re all guys here. He’s obviously gonna pick Lila. Unless you want a turn?!” “Oh, you guys!” Lila said, covering her face shyly. “Come on, Chad, you lost! Pick someone now, or I’m gonna have to volunteer!” “Hahahahaha, Chad, your virtue is at stake!” The noise from their table was getting louder. And the text in my vision started up again. 【What is she doing? Can’t she see he’s looking at her? He doesn’t want to kiss anyone else, he’s only thinking about her!】 【Yeah, he still hasn’t been home, he has no idea she’s moved out. He’s waiting for her to give in. Don’t be stubborn now! What if he actually kisses the other girl?】 【He’s not saying anything because he’s waiting for her to react. If she just looks at him, she doesn’t even have to go over, just one look, and he’ll come over and kiss her. He won’t even look at anyone else.】 I took a sip of my drink. As I put the glass down, it slipped and tipped over. “Oh, Chloe, are you okay? It spilled!” a coworker said, flagging down a waiter. Our commotion caught the attention of the next table. The noisy group fell silent. Several people looked over at me. Lila stood up and marched over to our table. 6 “Chloe, he’s just out with his friends. Do you have to be so clingy?” My coworkers, who had never met Chad or Lila, looked at me, confused. “Chloe, do you know her?” I smiled. “Nope.” Lila’s face fell. “You…” “Lila, get back here!” Chad’s cold voice cut across the room. Lila shot me a disdainful look, huffed, and stomped back to her table. It was quiet for a moment. Then, Chad’s voice rang out again. “What? Are we not playing anymore?” That seemed to snap everyone out of their trance. “Hahaha, forget it, Chad, just take a shot…” “Holy shit!” “No way!” “Oh, Chad, you’re actually doing it…” I heard a series of gasps and exclamations from the next table and couldn't help but look over. Chad had one hand on the back of Lila’s head, and they were kissing. At first, it might have just been for show. But then Lila wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer. And Chad, he seemed to get into it. When they finally broke apart, a thin string of saliva connected their lips. My face went pale. I looked away. Even though we were broken up, even though I had told myself to move on, seeing him with Lila still felt like a punch to the gut. Like a hand squeezing my heart. It was a sharp, piercing pain. I excused myself, saying I wasn’t feeling well, and left the bar. I know it was pathetic. I know I was a coward. But seeing that, all I wanted to do was run. I guess my withdrawal period wasn’t over yet. But I knew, with absolute certainty, that Chad and I were done for good. They say it only takes seven days to break a habit. I would get through this.

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Three years post-college, my ex Lena messaged: “Pathetic loser, come kiss ass at my father-in-law’s gala.” Married into Crestview’s wealthiest family, she never missed a chance to rub it in. I deleted it, indifferent. That evening, my wife Raina tossed a gold-trimmed box aside. “The Fairfaxes sent another ‘priceless’ heirloom,” she sighed. “Too trivial for us, but they’ll only accept your return.” Her lips grazed my ear: “I’ll reward you tonight…” As she left, Lena texted again: “Ethan Place, answer me! Coming or not?!” I eyed the discarded box. “I’ll be there.” 1 We’d gone to bed late, and by the time I woke up, the Fairfax gala was nearly underway. I grabbed the first jacket I could find and headed out the door. The Fairfax estate’s grand ballroom was already buzzing with the low hum of money and power. I skimmed the guest list by the entrance; I’d seen most of these names on the list of people begging for a meeting with my wife, Raina. Old man Fairfax still had some pull, it seemed. Nearly all of Crestview’s movers and shakers were here. But I didn’t recognize a single face. I’ve never been one for the spotlight. Not only did Raina and I keep our marriage quiet, but I rarely ever appeared with her in public. It drove her crazy. Most of the Sterling family fortune was built on my patents, and she was desperate to push me into the limelight, but I had no interest. All I’ve ever needed is a laboratory. Shaking myself from my thoughts, I stepped into the ballroom and immediately spotted my ex, Lena, holding court in the center of a fawning circle. To maximize her audience, she’d invited nearly everyone from our old university department. The class president was clinging to Lena’s hand, her smile dripping with sycophantic praise. ‘Lena, darling, it’s really true what they say: it’s better to marry well than to be born well. I mean, my family has a little money, and I used to flaunt it back in college. I feel so ashamed thinking about it now. You were the one destined for greatness! The scraps your husband lets fall from his table could feed my family for a decade!’ ‘She’s right, Lena! The smartest thing you ever did was dumping that nerd Ethan! He had that pathetic, broke-ass look about him. If you’d stayed with him, you’d probably be starving by now!’ ‘No joke, I swear I saw him the other day in the parking garage at the Crestview Commerce Tower. He was polishing a Bentley! Probably works as a chauffeur for some rich guy now. Pathetic!’ The comment was met with a wave of cruel laughter. This was exactly the kind of atmosphere I wanted to avoid. My plan was simple: find a member of the Fairfax family, drop off the gift, and get the hell out. But a sharp voice cut through the noise from behind me. ‘Well, speak of the devil! Isn’t that Ethan Place right there?!’ In an instant, hundreds of pairs of eyes swiveled in my direction. Lena’s brow furrowed as she strode toward me. She looked me up and down, then pinched the fabric of my coat between two fingers as if it were something foul. She let go with a look of pure disgust. ‘Ethan, you really are a lost cause! What did I tell you yesterday? I said dress like a human being! Look at this garbage you’re wearing! The valet at the door is dressed better than you!’ She threw her hands up in exasperation. ‘How am I supposed to introduce you to anyone when you look like this? Don’t you want to make connections? Don’t you want to climb out of the hole you’re in?!’ My face remained impassive. ‘No. I’m quite content with my life.’ Her words were followed by another eruption of laughter. My former classmates pointed and jeered. ‘Content? You’re content with your chauffeur job? What do they pay you, a couple thousand a month? You seemed pretty focused on that Bentley. Maybe I should talk to your boss, get you a raise?’ ‘Don’t be an idiot, Ethan. Lena’s doing you a favor! This is a huge opportunity, and you’re spitting on it. In the real world, your high grades are worthless. It’s all about who you know! Wake up!’ Lena held up a hand, silencing the crowd. She stepped closer, her expression a mask of contempt. ‘Cut the crap, Ethan. Don’t act all high and mighty. If you didn’t want to network, why did you even come? Don’t tell me you’re here to apply for a job as the new driver.’ A fresh wave of ridicule washed over me. Through the haze of mocking laughter, the patriarch of the Fairfax family, the old man himself, slowly made his way toward our group. ‘Lena, my dear, what’s all the commotion? Have we a guest of honor?’ Lena instantly smoothed her dress and fixed her makeup, then scurried over to take Mr. Fairfax’s arm. ‘Just some stray dog begging for scraps at our door, Dad. Nothing important. It’s drafty out here, let me walk you back inside.’ I ignored her, walked straight up to Mr. Fairfax, and held out the box. ‘Hello. Your family sent this to the Sterlings a while back. We don’t accept unsolicited gifts. Please take it back.’ 2 The moment the words left my mouth, whispers erupted around us. ‘What the hell? Who’s his boss? Rejecting a gift from the Fairfaxes? Does he want to be blacklisted in this city?’ ‘There are maybe three families in all of Crestview Mr. Fairfax would send a gift to, and those are always in return for a favor! I’ve never heard of the Fairfaxes sending the first gift!’ ‘He said… the Sterlings? As in, the Sterlings on the global rich list? No way…’ Mr. Fairfax’s eyes, sharp as daggers, raked over me. I couldn’t be bothered. I shoved the box into his arms and turned to leave. I’d only taken two steps when he called out. ‘Hold on a minute.’ I sighed internally. Rich people always had to make things so complicated. I turned back. ‘I have things to do. I don’t handle business matters, so talking to me is useless—’ ‘You’re saying this is the gift we sent to the Sterlings?’ Mr. Fairfax cut me off, his voice hard. My patience was wearing thin. ‘Yes. Don’t you know who you send gifts to?’ A strange smile played on his lips. ‘Young man, I know you kids are always looking for shortcuts. I’ve seen every trick in the book, but I have to admit, this one is new.’ I had no idea what he was talking about. Suddenly, his tone turned severe. ‘This thing you handed me is not what my family sent to the Sterlings. My assistant just confirmed that the gift for the Sterlings has just been prepared. I was planning on delivering that one myself!’ I stared at the box on the floor, completely bewildered. I pulled out my phone to call Raina and ask what was going on, but before I could dial, a brutal kick landed squarely in my side. The force sent me flying several feet. A mountain of a man, at least six-foot-three and pushing three hundred pounds, stomped toward me. He crushed my phone under his heel, then pinned my head to the floor with his shoe. ‘You son of a bitch!’ he roared. ‘You pull your scams at my father’s birthday gala? I’ve been watching you. You’re that pathetic ex-boyfriend of Lena’s, aren’t you?!’ His foot felt like an iron cudgel. I struggled, but I couldn’t break free. The pressure on my temple was excruciating, making my head spin with pain. Then, Lena’s sickeningly sweet voice cooed from above. ‘Brock, darling, what took you so long? You should have seen how arrogant he was with Dad. I was just about to teach him a lesson for you…’ Brock, her husband, leaned down and noisily kissed her ear before grinding his foot down harder. He hawked and spat right in my face. ‘You little bastard! You think the Fairfax family is someone you can mess with?! Today is my father’s sixtieth birthday. You ruined his mood, and for that, you deserve to die! Now, get on your knees, kowtow to my father three times, call him Grandpa, and I’ll let you crawl out of here. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you can’t survive another day in this city!’ Lena playfully smacked Brock’s fleshy backside, her face a picture of adoration. ‘Oh, honey, you’re so dominant. A shameless, pathetic loser like him needs to be put in his place!’ Her words were the cue for our old classmates to join in the chorus of ridicule. ‘Ethan, you really are hopeless! Lena was trying to help you, give you a chance, and you pull a disgusting stunt like this?’ ‘Exactly! It’s Mr. Fairfax’s gala! And you show up to run a scam? You have no shame! Don’t you ever tell anyone you were my classmate. I’m embarrassed to even know you!’ ‘Yeah! Do what Mr. Fairfax Jr. says! Get on your knees, apologize to his father, and call him Grandpa!’ The air was thick with their jeers. With a final, desperate surge of strength, I managed to shove Brock off me. I scrambled to my feet, grabbed the old man’s sleeve, and lowered my voice, trying to contain the damage. ‘Mr. Fairfax, I am Raina Sterling’s husband. That gift is from your family. There’s been a misunderstanding. If you let me leave now, we can forget this ever happened. But if you insist on this, you will not be able to bear the consequences.’ 3 I deliberately kept my voice low. The last thing I wanted was a scene. But clearly, Mr. Fairfax had other ideas. He shot me a look of utter disdain, then bellowed for the whole room to hear, ‘What did you say? You claim to be Chairman Sterling’s husband?!’ His shout grabbed everyone’s attention. The room erupted in thunderous, incredulous laughter. ‘This kid has some serious balls! Trying to ride Raina Sterling’s coattails! We’ve been in this circle for years and never once heard a peep about her getting married!’ ‘Exactly! If Raina Sterling got married, it would be the wedding of the century! She said so herself at the business summit three years ago!’ Lena pushed her way forward and spat in my face. ‘Ethan, you are absolutely shameless! Look at yourself! You’re a pathetic, broke loser! Forget Chairman Sterling—even her damn poodle wouldn’t give you the time of day!’ ‘Lena, don’t waste your breath on this scum,’ Brock snarled. ‘Just for daring to slander Chairman Sterling’s name, I, Brock Fairfax, am going to destroy him today!’ Before I could say another word, he snatched a heavy steel pipe from a nearby decoration and slammed it into my shin. At the same time, the old man, who had been watching from the sidelines, stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face. He then turned to his son. ‘Brock, teach this bastard a lesson he’ll never forget. I don’t care if we have to cancel the rest of the party! He needs to learn some respect!’ With his father’s blessing, Brock waved a hand. In seconds, dozens of burly security guards swarmed in, forming a tight circle around me. In that last, desperate moment, I managed to grab a phone again and redial Raina’s number. ‘Come to the Fairfax estate…’ 4 Before I could finish, Brock swung the steel pipe again, this time aiming directly for my hand. CRACK! A blinding, white-hot agony shot up my arm as my wrist shattered. ‘You little shit! Still trying to call for backup?!’ he bellowed, his face inches from mine. ‘Don’t you know where you are? In Crestview, the Fairfax family is God! Anyone who wants to survive here has to call me ancestor!’ He grabbed my collar and hauled me to my feet. ‘Now, get on your knees and beg my father for forgiveness!’ I thrashed wildly in his grip, my eyes burning with rage. ‘You’re the bastard! And your father is a bastard just like you! You want me to apologize to him? Dream on! You’d be better off thinking about how you’re going to get out of the mess you’ve made today!’ Brock was momentarily stunned by my defiance. In that brief pause, Lena sauntered over, a wicked smile on her face. She pulled out her phone and video-called my mother. The call connected almost instantly. ‘Auntie,’ Lena said sweetly to the screen, ‘I hear you haven’t been feeling well lately. Do you miss Ethan? Because he certainly misses you…’ She muted the call and turned her venomous gaze on me. ‘Ethan, if you don’t get on your knees and kowtow to my father-in-law right now, I’m going to let your sick old mother see you like this. If I remember correctly, she just had bypass surgery a few years ago, didn’t she? What do you think will happen to her fragile heart when she sees her precious son beaten to a pulp?’ When Lena and I were dating, my mother treated her better than she treated me. And now this monster was using my mother’s life to threaten me. ‘Lena, dear, I miss him so much,’ my mother’s frail voice crackled through the phone. ‘Is he there with you? Please, let me see him…’ Lena’s eyes were locked on mine, a silent, vicious command in them as she slowly angled the camera toward me. Her lips formed the words silently: Time’s up, Ethan. ‘Lena? Where’s Ethan? Why aren’t you saying anything?’ With a flick of her wrist, she started to turn the phone. In the split second before the camera found me, I stumbled forward and collapsed at Mr. Fairfax’s feet. Thud. I bowed my head and slammed my forehead against the cold marble floor, three times. A triumphant laugh escaped Lena’s lips. She turned back to the phone. ‘Oh, Auntie, Ethan was just here a second ago, but he seems to have wandered off. I’ll go find him for you.’ My mother thanked her profusely as Lena muted the call again and turned back to me, her eyes glittering with malice. ‘You’ve apologized to my father-in-law. But you still haven’t apologized to my husband. This time, you don’t have to kowtow. Just call my husband ‘Dad’.’ ‘Lena!’ I choked out, the word tearing from my throat. ‘My mother was so good to you! How can you do this? Do you have any conscience at all?!’ She just smirked and waggled her phone at me. ‘I’m not interested in your whining. Are you going to say it or not?’ My former classmates were howling with laughter. ‘Say it! Say it! Say it!’ Lena held up five fingers. ‘You have five seconds, Ethan. Five… four… three…’

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There’s a copycat in my dorm. If I wear purple, she wears purple. If I wear green, she wears green. She even bought the exact same backpack as me. I finally snapped and had a huge fight with her about it. The next day, I was scrolling online and saw this post: [I’d walk through a wall for a straight girl, and she calls me a clone sheep.] Looking at the post’s author, located only 10 feet away from me, I started to reconsider everything. 1 Something is wrong with my roommate. Very wrong. She’s always wearing the same clothes as me, buying the same bags, and just a minute ago, she asked for the link to the socks I was wearing. This is not normal. Once is a coincidence. Twice is an accident. Three times is fate. But what about the fourth time? The fifth? The one hundred and eleventh? Worst of all, people have started mixing us up. My best friend, Maya, slung an arm around my shoulders, her face twisted in confusion. “You two are starting to look way too similar.” I couldn’t blame her. This was the eighth time she’d mistaken Clara for me from behind. I stared at the back of my roommate’s head, a figure that looked like it could be my twin. A wild thought sparked in my mind. Could it be… she wants to replace me? 2 The thought sent a shiver down my spine. Years of reading horror novels had prepared me for this. This was the classic setup for a story where someone slowly, methodically takes over another person’s life. I shuddered and immediately ran to Maya’s room to borrow a few outfits in completely different styles. Clara’s wardrobe was a near-perfect replica of mine; there was no way she could find a matching outfit in a single day. I snuck the borrowed clothes back into my closet when she wasn’t looking. Phase one of Operation: Avoid Replacement—a complete style overhaul. The next morning, I pulled out a purple dress I’d borrowed from Maya. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Clara staring at it. After a long moment, she stammered, “You… you changed your style.” I gave her a noncommittal nod, my guard raised. I’d never noticed it before, but now I realized her eyes were always glued to my clothes whenever I was picking out an outfit. Creepy. Terrifying. I climbed onto my loft bed to change. When I came back down, I was struck dumb. I was wearing a long, dark purple dress speckled with glitter. Clara was now dressed in the exact same color, only in a top and jeans. “What a coincidence…” she said, her expression a poorly rehearsed imitation of surprise. “We’re wearing the same color scheme again.” So fake. If our other roommate hadn’t been there, I would have thrown my backpack at her head. “Wow, you guys look so coordinated!” our other roommate commented from her desk, where she was doing her makeup. I watched, bewildered, as a faint blush crept up Clara’s neck. She’s guilty! That has to be it! 3 The next day, determined to break the pattern, I borrowed a green sundress from Maya. I’d never seen Clara wear anything like it. She definitely wouldn’t have anything to match this. When I got down from my bed, I saw she was still in her pajamas. A smug grin spread across my face. Ha! Stumped you, didn’t I? But as I was brushing my teeth, I watched her in the mirror. She opened a storage bin she kept under her bed, one she rarely touched, and pulled out… a green dress. A green… dress. I nearly crushed the plastic cup in my hand. She held up the dress, and catching my eye in the mirror, she gave me a faint, knowing smile. What was that smile? Evil! A challenge! A threat! She was about to take over my life! I couldn’t let that happen! 4 I couldn’t figure out how she managed to perfectly coordinate with me every single time. Who wants to be constantly mimicked? Not me. I hate copycats. It was time for the final move. Operation: Avoid Replacement—address the problem at its source. The one hundred and eighth time she asked me where I bought my socks, I slammed my phone down on my desk. “Why do you keep asking? What’s next, you want to know where I buy my underwear?” Her face flushed a deep red. “W-well… if you don’t mind…” she mumbled, peeking at me from under her eyelashes. That was it. That was the look of someone testing the waters, plotting her takeover. I could almost hear her next question: Can I peel your skin off and wear it as a mask? “Of course I mind!” I exploded, all my pent-up frustration finally erupting. “What is wrong with you? Don’t you have your own sense of style? Why do you have to wear everything I wear? Why do you copy me from head to toe? Are you a copycat? Do you know Dolly the clone sheep only lived for six years? Let me make this crystal clear: I don’t want to match with you anymore. If I see you wearing the same thing as me one more time, I’m throwing all your clothes out the window!” I punctuated my tirade by kicking a chair. Then I snatched my phone off the desk and stormed out, slamming the door behind me. I didn’t want to see her reaction. I didn’t care. 5 When I returned to the room later, I noticed she had changed into a completely different color. As soon as she saw me, my phone buzzed with a message from her. [I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I didn’t know you disliked it.] The message hit me with the force of a tidal wave of guilt. She was right. I’d never actually told her I didn’t like it. Having vented my frustration, I felt a little better and started scrolling through a social media app to unwind. Suddenly, a post popped up on my feed. The title was: [I’d walk through a wall for a straight girl, and she calls me a clone sheep.] The smile on my face froze as I read on, especially as my own words echoed in my head: “Do you know Dolly the clone sheep only lived for six years?” The story in the post sounded… eerily familiar. The gist of it was: I wanted to wear matching ‘couple’s outfits’ with my roommate by secretly coordinating our colors every day. But today she suddenly blew up at me and called me a clone sheep. The post ended with a sad, crying emoji. My eyes fixated on the tags at the bottom: #crushingonmyroommate and #lesbian. I fell into a deep, profound silence. I scrolled down to the comments, a stark contrast to my own stunned silence. User1: lol you lesbians falling for straight girls are doomed! User2: OP: Another day, another cute matching outfit with my crush! 🙂 Her Roommate: IF YOU COPY ME AGAIN I WILL END YOU. User120: is this the difference between a straight girl’s brain and a lesbian’s brain? User121: I’m crying, the straight girl would rather think you’re a literal clone trying to replace her than realize you just want to wear cute matching outfits. User122: Hey, the app says you’re not too far from me. OP, you don’t happen to go to Northwood University, do you? Seeing the familiar name of my university, I remembered the app had a location feature. With a sense of impending doom, I clicked on the user’s profile. A tiny line of text, usually insignificant, now filled my entire field of vision: [Distance: 10 ft.] Ten feet. I turned and looked at the back of my roommate, who was sitting at her desk. My brain slowly processed the information. That distance… is about ten feet. 6 After reading the post, I was completely shell-shocked. I quickly memorized the user ID, cleared my browsing history, and then logged into my anonymous burner account to begin a deep dive into her post history. I scrolled all the way back. The very first post was from a year ago, right when the semester started. [Saw the cutest girl today. She’s probably only 5’2”, but she’s so tiny and sweet.] Hmm. I’m 5’3”. Close, but not quite. It’s not me. Moving on. [She’s my roommate! And she was nice enough to offer me a bottle of water. She must think I’m pretty cool, too.] I have no memory of this. Definitely not about me. Moving on. [Wow, she can dance! And she has such a great personality. How can someone be so perfect?] The post was accompanied by a picture of me hosting an on-stage event, my face blurred out. Okay, confirmed. It’s me. The shift in tone seemed to have happened about six months ago, during the university’s track and field meet. [I sprained my ankle today. She offered to help me to the infirmary. She smells so good. Mmm, she said I wasn’t heavy, so maybe I can lean on her a little more… no, better not. I don’t want to tire her out.] I vaguely remembered this. My roommate, Clara, was an art major. She was always quiet and gentle. Because of her major, she was rarely in the dorm. That day, I’d been roped into volunteering for the event to get some required credits. For some reason, she had signed up for the 800-meter race. She’d sprained her ankle during the race, and since no one else was around, it fell to me to help her to the nurse’s office. I remember hurrying over and seeing her sitting on the ground, her forehead beaded with sweat. When I tried to help her up, she resisted. “Don’t touch me,” she’d mumbled. At the time, I thought she really disliked me. “Can you walk on your own if I don’t touch you?” I’d snapped. My tone must have scared her, because she immediately backtracked. “No, it’s just… I’m all sweaty.” I thought she was being ridiculous. So what if she was sweaty? Who doesn’t sweat when they run? I pulled her up. She was clearly in a lot of pain, but she barely put any weight on me. She was trying so hard to be tough, limping along and pretending it didn’t hurt. In my head, I nicknamed her “Iron Woman.” But, out of basic human decency, I said, “You know, you can lean on me. You’re not heavy, and I’m not tired.” “I am leaning on you,” she insisted, and I felt a little more weight on my shoulder. But because she was taller than me, I was mostly just supporting her arm. I noticed her ears were bright red. “Are you hot? Do you want to rest for a minute?” She shook her head vigorously, and I felt the weight on me disappear again. I figured she was just uncomfortable with me helping her, so I didn’t press the issue. And now this post was telling me she didn’t lean on me because she was afraid of being too heavy? I kept scrolling. And I found the origin of the “clone sheep” incident. 7 [By chance, we wore the same color today. Someone said we looked like we were wearing couple’s outfits! So happy! (Attached cat-rubbing-its-belly emoji)] That was the first time we’d worn the same color. But it wasn’t by chance at all. I wracked my brain. It was for some university-wide assembly where everyone had to wear the same uniform. Our so-called “matching outfits” were just the standard-issue school shirts. Seriously? This girl’s imagination is working overtime. After that, the posts were almost daily, all documenting our matching color schemes and outfits. [Another day, another couple’s outfit!] [Didn’t have the exact same color, but found something close enough! Wore it!] [She smiled at me today and said we must be kindred spirits!] …And so on, right up until today’s post. After reading everything, a new understanding began to dawn on me. This looks a lot like the diary of a lesbian with a secret crush. I shut my phone off and slowly turned around, only to find myself looking directly into Clara’s eyes. Before she could react, I whipped back around so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. “…Are you okay?” Clara asked from behind me. I don’t know if it was because of the post or something else, but I could have sworn I heard a note of genuine concern and nervousness in her voice. …It’s all in my head. All in my head. 8 That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I couldn’t reconcile the person in those posts with the quiet, reserved girl I knew. A storm of questions raged in my mind. Is she really that blogger? Is she a lesbian? Does she like… me? I fumbled for my phone in the dark and typed into the search bar: [what to do if my roommate likes me?] [what to do if my roommate is a lesbian?] [how to tell if someone is really a lesbian?] [what do i do if i yelled at the lesbian who likes me?] The search results were a bizarre mix of useless advice. [OP, you’re on your own.] [Easy, just kiss her. If you don’t find it disgusting, you might be one too.] [My advice is probably too graphic for this forum so I’ll just see myself out.] …Utterly, completely unhelpful. I put my phone down, feeling my face grow warm. These internet people were infuriating. I turned over, facing Clara’s side of the room, and finally drifted off to sleep. The next morning, I noticed Clara had deliberately chosen an outfit in a completely different color from mine. “Clara, what’s with the new style? You and Stella aren’t matching today,” another roommate said with a yawn as she climbed down from her bed. “Just felt like a change,” Clara mumbled, her mood clearly low. Even though the clone sheep problem was solved, I felt a strange pang of guilt. From her perspective, she hadn’t done anything wrong. All she’d done was like me. “Hey,” I said, grabbing my textbook and catching up to her on the way to class. “I was too harsh yesterday. I’m sorry. Let me buy you lunch today.” “Huh? Oh, okay.” Clara turned, and the surprise and delight in her eyes were impossible to miss. I texted her the time and place for lunch and then spent the entire lecture staring into space. As noon approached, my phone-checking frequency increased to about thirty times a minute. The moment the bell rang, I shot up from my seat, then froze. Wait a second. I’m a straight girl. Why am I so excited? Anyone would think I liked her or something! I deliberately slowed my pace, craning my neck to look for her. Finally, I spotted her.

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My last life ended with my wife’s lie. She painted me as a serial killer, and no matter how I screamed my innocence, the world wouldn’t listen. The victims’ families took their revenge on my own, an eye for an eye, their methods brutal and absolute. Some were tortured, others vanished without a trace. And I was trapped behind bars, powerless to stop any of it. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back on the day my wife was supposed to walk into the police station and ruin my life. After calling in an anonymous tip to the police that someone would die today, I tried to investigate why my wife would frame me, only to find she had vanished into thin air. But on my way home, I saw it: a bank, surrounded, a robbery in progress. And a spark of an idea lit up my mind. “That’s right,” I said to the officer. “I’m volunteering. I’ll take the pregnant woman’s place as a hostage.” … The police negotiator stared at me for a few seconds, his mind catching up. “You know the guy in there has a makeshift gun, right? This is real. You could actually die!” There was a flicker of excitement in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by genuine concern. He was worried I didn’t grasp the stakes, that I’d back down once reality hit. I just shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. If I die, just give me a ‘Good Samaritan’ award or something.” I’d already died once, a humiliating, suffocating end. This time, I wasn’t asking for a blaze of glory. I just wanted a death—if it came to that—that wasn’t tied to the label of a monster. An end that wouldn’t drag my family down into hell with me. That was enough. “Alright. We’ll make the most of this opportunity. Please, try not to be nervous.” The negotiator spoke with grave intensity as he strapped a bulletproof vest onto me. It was my first time wearing one; the novelty of it was so strange I almost felt like I was at a cosplay convention. While the police team radioed the robber inside the bank, I waited in the wings. “No way! If it’s a woman, you send in another woman to swap!” the robber’s voice crackled through their speaker. “This guy’s obviously one of your undercover cops!” I had to roll my eyes. Seriously? With my slender build, you could hardly compare me to a trained officer. “Quit wasting time,” I yelled, stepping past the line of police and into the open space between them and the bank. “Watch closely!” Then, I started shedding clothes, one piece at a time. My jacket, the vest, my wool sweater, my pants, my socks, even my leather shoes hit the pavement until I was standing there in nothing but a pair of boxers. “Is this good enough for you, buddy?” I shouted, then turned to the nearest officer and presented my wrists. “Cuff me.” The move left everyone—robbers and cops alike—speechless. “That woman is about to give birth,” I projected my voice towards the bank. “Think about it. Why would she be at a bank instead of a hospital? Because she’s got no one to help her. Her life is already hard enough, and she’s been fighting for that baby. Are you really going to be the ones who let her die because you won’t make a simple trade?” I took two steps forward. The robber inside didn’t react. Dressed like this, who could possibly suspect me of being a threat? “I’m carrying nothing. The cuffs are real and they’re tight. And hey, if I were an undercover cop, you should be happy! That would mean you have a cop as a hostage. They’d have to be even more careful with you then, right?” I kept pushing, the tension in the air so thick you could taste it. Everyone was holding their breath. If this didn’t work, nothing would. Finally, after a few agonizing minutes, the robber’s voice came back. “Get in here. Hands up. No funny business!” A wave of relief washed over me so powerful I could have sprinted inside. In just a few more hours, the murder from my past life would be committed. And soon after, my dear wife, Eliza, would go to the police with her web of lies. They would find the supposed murder weapon in my home, covered in my DNA. They would find a witness who swore they saw me near the crime scene. They would even produce a seamless chain of security footage tracking my every move from my front door to the alley where the body was found. This time, I was going to forge an alibi so ironclad it would shatter every single one of those lies. As I entered the bank, they were letting the pregnant woman go. She was trembling, but she kept looking back at me, whispering her thanks. “You’re a good man. Thank you!” “If you really want to thank me,” I said, raising an eyebrow, “then help me out after this is all over.” She froze, confused. She had no idea what I was asking for. But I knew that soon enough, she would. “Get in here, you!” The robber was cautious, keeping to the blind spots where the snipers outside couldn’t get a clean shot. The moment I was dragged inside, something hard slammed against the back of my head. “You’re really not a cop?” I could feel the cold, dark barrel of the gun pressed against my spine. “Really. Check the cuffs yourself, see how real they are.” I struggled against the restraints, and the steel only bit deeper into my wrists. Satisfied, he moved around to face me. He didn’t look like a hardened killer, just a desperate man. He sized me up. “You’re not scared of dying, kid?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “What’s the point? I’d be scared of a meaningless death, but dying to save someone? That’s not meaningless at all.” I shrugged, looking him straight in the eye. He stared at me, dumbfounded. “You talk like you’ve died before,” he finally managed to say. “Let’s see how tough you are when you’re really about to bite it.” “You’re right about one thing,” I said with a long sigh. “I have died once before.” The memory of it, the searing injustice of being executed as the most monstrous serial killer of the century, sent a fresh wave of bitterness through me. “What are you, a lunatic?” he muttered, looking at me strangely. “Get over there and sit down.” I didn’t bother explaining. All I had to do was stay right here, in this bank, until morning. Then, it wouldn’t matter who died tonight. It wouldn’t have anything to do with me. This time, I’d have an army of witnesses. The hours crawled by. Outside, the sky bled from blue to orange to black. The negotiations grew more heated, the standoff stretching to its breaking point. “Cut the crap!” the robber screamed into his phone. “You give me what I want, or I’ll kill one of them right now just to show you I’m not playing!” His nerves were fraying. He was alone, but the other three hostages—all women—were bound together, completely helpless. “Hey, take it easy, man,” I said casually from my corner. “You don’t seem like a bad guy. No need to burn it all down, right?” His eyes snapped to me. He grabbed me by the arm, dragged me to the glass doors of the bank, and shoved me into view of the police and the news cameras. “Listen up!” he bellowed. “I want an armored SUV! You’ve got five minutes to decide. For every minute you’re late, I’m taking one of his legs!” The scene was already being broadcast live by a dozen livestreamers and news crews. The story had gone viral; there was no containing it now. “Wait a second… isn’t that guy in his underwear Leo Shaw? The chairman of Shaw Corp’s son?” “Holy crap, I think it is! I interviewed him once for a business channel!” Hearing the murmurs ripple through the crowd, I finally allowed myself a small smile. That’s right, I thought. Come on, get a good shot of me. Make sure you get my good side. The news spread like wildfire across the internet. The kidnapper, overhearing the commotion, pieced it together. His eyes went wide with a mixture of shock and terror. “You… you’re the son of that billionaire?” He was excited, but also afraid. This could mean a much bigger payday, but it also meant bringing down a whole new level of hell upon himself. I shrugged, feigning indifference. “My name doesn’t change a thing.” Meanwhile, my father had gotten the news. He arrived in a screech of tires, leaping from his car before it had even fully stopped and charging the police cordon. Officers rushed to intercept him. “Sir, you can’t go in there! It’s too dangerous!” a few of them shouted, physically restraining him. “My company pays millions in taxes! We’ve built half this city!” my father roared, his voice raw with panic. “And you let my son walk in there to die? What the hell kind of police work is this?” The officers, understanding his anguish, patiently tried to explain. “Mr. Shaw, your son went in voluntarily. He said he wanted to help. We are doing everything we can to ensure his safety.” My father froze. He knew me, my personality. He couldn’t fathom why I would ever do something like this. Shaking his head, he grabbed a megaphone from a nearby officer and raised it to his lips. “You in the bank, listen to me! Whatever you want, however much money, I’ll give it to you!” he boomed. “Just don’t hurt my son! In fact, let me take his place! I’ll trade myself for him!” A warmth pricked my eyes. In my last life, he was always the first one there, my shield against every storm. This time, I wouldn’t let him suffer for me. Not again. I turned to the robber. “Don’t listen to him!” I said sharply. “Think about it. A father will always save his son. But what son saves his father? You let me out, and I’ll let you do whatever you want with the old man. Then all that inheritance is mine, right?” The robbers exchanged confused glances, stunned by my cold-blooded logic. But the more they thought about it, the more it seemed to make a twisted kind of sense. They refused my father’s offer. Their curiosity got the better of them. Why would a rich kid, who could have anything he wanted, throw himself into a situation like this? It didn’t make sense from any angle. “Are you actually crazy?” one of them finally asked. I couldn’t help but laugh at their expressions. “Not crazy. Just wanted to experience a different kind of life. Look, you’re not here to kill anyone, you just want money. I get it. I’ll cooperate. I’ll even help you get paid.” They looked at each other, still unable to grasp my motives, but they dropped the subject. By now, dozens of online influencers had set up their gear, broadcasting the standoff to hundreds of thousands of viewers. The internet was buzzing with speculation. Why would the heir to the Shaw fortune volunteer as a hostage? Some thought it was a publicity stunt, others a sign of some hidden agenda. But most people saw a hero, someone willing to sacrifice himself for a stranger. Then my mother arrived. When she understood what was happening, she collapsed into tears, her pleas echoing from beyond the police tape. “Please, don’t hurt my boy! We’ll give you anything you want, I’m begging you!” Hearing her voice sent a pang of grief through me. I remembered her horrific death in my past life, a direct result of my conviction, and my resolve hardened. I had to protect her. The police presence outside had swelled, sealing off the entire block. The robber, seeing the growing army of uniforms, started to panic. He made his demand: five million dollars in cash, within the hour, or he’d start shooting. An hour? That wasn’t nearly enough time. I needed to stay here all night. “No!” I shouted. “Don’t give it to them!” The robbers, enraged, moved towards me, ready to strike. “Wait, calm down,” I said quickly. “I’m on your side. Trust me.” They paused, watching me with suspicion as I explained. “You can’t ask for that much cash in an hour. The only way they can get it that fast is with brand new, consecutively numbered bills from the vault. The second you try to spend that money, you’ll be caught. It’s a waste of time.” The robbers looked at each other. He had a point. “Damn, the rich kid is smart,” one of them muttered. “We didn’t think of that. So what do we do?” I pretended to think for a moment. “You need old, used bills. Untraceable. But that takes time to gather. Give them more time. Tell them you want used cash, and you’re willing to wait.” It made perfect sense to them. The leader turned and yelled his new demand to the police outside. “You have three hours! And I want used bills only! If the money’s not here by then, we’re done talking!” I let out a silent breath of relief. Three hours. That should be enough to get me past the critical time frame. Outside, my father comforted my mother. “I’ve already got people getting the cash ready. Don’t worry.” He pulled the lead officer aside. “Do you have a plan?” The officer nodded grimly. “We have an asset on the inside, Mr. Shaw. We can resolve this. And even if that fails, we have contingencies. They aren’t getting away. Our primary job is to ensure the safety of the hostages.” My father’s shoulders sagged with relief. Inside, my cooperation had earned me some trust. The robbers left me untied, telling me to just sit in a corner and stay out of the way. That’s when one of the other hostages, a young woman, crept closer to me. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered. “I’m going to help you.” I was startled, wondering who she was. But then I saw her hand tense, ready to make a move. “Don’t do it!” I hissed, my voice sharp. My sudden warning made her flinch and pull back, missing her chance to take down the robber nearest to her. When he had moved away, she turned to me, her eyes flashing with anger. “What was that?” For her, it had been a perfect opening. “Just wait for the ransom,” I said, putting on a thoughtful expression. “If you make a move in here, the other hostages could get hurt, right?” My calm reasoning threw her off. She hesitated, unsure. Reluctantly, she settled back to wait. The three hours passed in agonizing slowness. Finally, my father appeared, carrying two large suitcases, escorted by police. The robbers’ eyes lit up, their greed overriding their caution.

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The day before my wedding, I dropped my best man off at his hotel and saw my fiancée, Isabella, checking into a room with her ex-boyfriend. Just ten minutes earlier, she had texted me: “I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow, my love. Come and take me home.” I swallowed my rage and filmed the video of them kissing in the hallway. The next day, at our wedding, I played it for everyone to see. 1 The moment the video played, the reception hall erupted. Isabella’s younger brother was the first to react, pointing at the event staff and screaming. “What the hell are you people doing? Why would you play a video like this at a wedding?” “How dare you embarrass the Thorne family! Is your company trying to go out of business?” “Where’s your manager? Get them out here…” His voice trailed off as he, along with every other guest, became glued to the screen. I nodded, satisfied. “Everyone,” I announced, “welcome to my breakup party with Isabella Thorne. From this day forward, we are finished. Please, eat, drink, and enjoy.” Realizing she was the star of the show, Isabella rushed toward me, desperate to explain. But I had already dropped the microphone and walked out. The second I stepped outside the hotel, my father’s call came through. I let my phone’s AI assistant handle it. When I’d first told him I was marrying Isabella, he’d been so ecstatic he stayed drunk for three days, bragging to anyone who would listen about how his brilliant son was marrying a wealthy heiress. He would be the last person to accept this wedding being called off. Back at my apartment, the calls from my father were relentless. Annoyed, I finally just pulled the SIM card out of my phone. I tossed my wedding suit in the trash and found the nearest bar. My social media, anything that connected me to Isabella, was blowing up with notifications. But I had a new phone now. I couldn’t see their chaos even if I wanted to. The bar owner saw me and strolled over, a friendly grin on his face. “Flying solo tonight, Leo? Where’s your fiancée?” I glanced over my shoulder, a wry smile on my face. “She’ll be here soon.” A second later, a familiar figure appeared. 2 Isabella was frantically pushing her way through the crowd, her eyes glued to her phone as she scanned the room. A man who had been watching me from a distance a moment before moved toward her. She fought him off, shoving him away. I couldn’t hear what he said, but it left a look of pure resentment on her face as she pushed him aside again and continued her search. The man watched her go, his posture radiating a deep, lonely pain. The bar’s flashing lights obscured his features, but there was something unsettlingly familiar about him. I assumed he was a friend of Isabella’s who had spotted me and tipped her off. Yet, racking my brain, I couldn’t place him. It was the bar owner who broke my train of thought. “Leo, your fiancée is calling my phone now.” “Your phone’s on, isn’t it? What’s going on? You two have a fight?” I looked up, and he, thinking I wanted to answer, accepted the call. He even helpfully turned it on speaker. Isabella’s voice, frantic and loud, came through the phone. “Leo, honey, I know you’re at a bar. Please just tell me where you are. Give me a chance to explain.” I hung up. The owner stared at me, bewildered. “Aren’t you going to find her? Aren’t you worried about her being out alone?” I glanced back at the spot where the mysterious man had been. He had already vanished back into the crowd. “She’s not my fiancée anymore,” I murmured, my voice hollow. “She doesn’t need me.” 3 It was past two in the morning when I finally stumbled home. I looked up and saw her, Isabella, huddled by my front door. It was always her move after she’d done something wrong. “Leo, I couldn’t find you at the bar, and your phone was off.” “You’ve had so much to drink. You can barely stand.” “Come on, let’s get you inside.” She greeted me with a bright, relieved smile, fussing over me as if nothing had happened. I shoved her away. “Get off me. Don’t touch me!” She froze, her eyes filled with a wounded look. “Honey, it was the wedding company. They were trying to mess with us. The video was a deepfake.” “I’ve already called my lawyer. I’ll find the proof, I promise…” “I filmed it.” My voice was cold as I looked at her. “You couldn’t even wait to get into the room. You were so into that kiss, it’s no surprise you didn’t see me standing right there.” The color drained from her face. She stood rooted to the spot, lost. The alcohol in my stomach churned. I pushed past her, ran to the bathroom, and collapsed over the toilet, heaving until tears streamed from my eyes. Isabella followed me, silently tending to me. She handed me tissues, found the hangover pills, and went to the kitchen to cook me noodles. She didn’t say a word. But every second, the image of her and her ex, desperate for each other outside that hotel room, played on a loop in my head. Seeing her now, so full of care and concern, felt surreal and absurd. “Isabella, I don’t want to see you again. Get out of my apartment.” Suddenly, there was a crash from the kitchen—the sound of a bowl shattering. She was silent for a long moment. Then, she brought out the noodles and the pills, placed them on the table in front of me, and quietly cleaned up the broken porcelain. “Leo, just… take some time to cool off. I’ll come back in a few days, and we can talk.” I was slumped on the sofa, my hand covering my eyes. “Get out.” 4 I didn’t touch the food. I spent the night on the sofa, wrapped in my own arms. Early the next morning, a loud banging rattled the front door. I opened it, and my father stormed in, nearly knocking me over. “Leo! Have you lost your mind?” “Isabella is from a wealthy family! Of course she’s had boyfriends! Once you were married, you would have had everything! You’re going to throw all that away over one little thing?” “All our friends and family were there! How could you humiliate me like that?” My head was pounding. “Dad,” I said weakly, “did you not see the video? She was with her ex, the day before our wedding…” He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t talk to me about that! She’s a fourth-generation heiress! Men are lining up to marry her. This only happened because you couldn’t keep her satisfied! If you were man enough to keep her focused on you, this never would have happened. You were about to marry up, to enter a whole new world, and you just walk away? You’re thirty years old, Leo! Where are you going to find another woman who can do more for you than Isabella?” Hearing those words come from him was no surprise. His greed knew no bounds, especially when it came to rich women. But I had my limits. “Dad, if you love her so much, why don’t you ask her to adopt you?” He sputtered with rage, his hand flying up to slap me. I’d been drinking all night on an empty stomach, and the stress sent a sharp, cramping pain through my gut. I shoved him aside and ran for the bathroom again. Even then, he didn’t stop yelling, telling me I was inflexible, that my lifestyle was unhealthy. But every sentence somehow circled back to Isabella. “She’s beautiful, she’s sophisticated, and her family is top-tier! You couldn’t hold on to her, and now she’ll find someone better looking, more successful, and more open-minded than you! You’ll be left with nothing!” His words echoed down the hall and drilled into my ears. I thought of the heartbroken man at the bar last night. The delayed realization hit me like a sledgehammer, pounding against my chest. “You’re a grown man, and you can’t even clean up after yourself! What are these drops of blood on the floor?” “Only Isabella would put up with you. Any other woman would have burned this place to the ground by now.” I slammed the bathroom door shut and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over my head. I curled into a ball, cocooned in the darkness, and finally let myself sob. 5 My relationship with Isabella didn’t start the way my father thought—me climbing the social ladder, her being a convenient, docile rich girl. We had been together for ten years. We fell in love during a time when my father’s control over my life was at its most suffocating. In our tenth year together, through my own hard work, I had finally bought an apartment and a car in the city where her family lived. I had teased her, “Apartment and car are paid in full. I’ve saved for the wedding, and I even bought you your favorite style of ring. How much longer do I have to wait before you’ll marry me?” She had cupped my face in her hands and kissed me, her love enveloping me. When she pulled back, her eyes were shining. “This year. Let’s get married this year.” “Leo, do you still want to marry me?” I didn’t. I should have said no right then. Isabella, you said I was your present and your future. I was the one who healed your past, the one who brought you peace. I was the one you were supposed to walk down the aisle with. So why? Why, when I was closer to happiness than I had ever been, did you have to go back to him? 6 My father harassed me for days, a cycle of threats and pleading, all aimed at getting me to reconcile with Isabella. When he realized I wasn’t going to budge, he slammed the door and left in a huff. I locked myself in my apartment. No one called. My phone was off. I heard nothing. I lay on my bed like a corpse, utterly lifeless. On Monday, I went back to the office. My colleagues immediately started congratulating me. “The wedding didn’t happen. Sorry,” I said flatly. Their faces shifted from cheerful to awkward. “Oh. That’s… sudden. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” “Let me buy you a coffee, man, I’m really sorry…” I cut them off with a weak smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s over.” The busy morning was a welcome distraction. I went to the breakroom to get some water and overheard a few people whispering. “Why didn’t Leo get married?” “His fiancée is gorgeous and comes from a great family. You think she got cold feet?” “No way. She was crazy about him. She used to bring him different kinds of homemade soup every week to help his stomach problems. When he was hospitalized for that ulcer, she never left his side. She even drove him to and from work for a while after he was discharged. She was completely devoted to him.” “Then what could it be? You don’t think Leo was cheating on her, do you?” “Get out of here! We’ve worked with him for years. He’s capable, responsible, has a great sense of humor but always knows the line. He’s a solid guy.” I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I bought a coffee from the vending machine and went back to my desk. As soon as I sat down, my father called. I ignored it, but then the texts started. “How could you block Isabella? Are you a child?” “Can’t you two just sit down and talk this out like adults?” I read the messages with a detached numbness. I didn’t know how to respond. My entire being felt hollow. By the time I snapped out of it, my father’s number was in my block list. 7 A thunderstorm raged outside, the wind howling. Flashes of lightning illuminated the faces of my colleagues as they rushed to get home. I waited until the office was empty before heading down. I opened my bag and remembered: I never carried an umbrella. For ten years, Isabella had always been the one to remind me. Before I left, she would give me a playful, insistent look until I finally grabbed it. I had gotten so used to following her lead. I trusted her unconditionally. That kind of blind trust is a terrifying thing. I held my briefcase over my head and dashed into the parking garage, only to find my car wouldn’t start. I slammed my fist on the steering wheel in frustration. It had been working fine. In the end, I had no choice but to brave the storm and head for the subway. The moment I stepped out of the garage, I saw her. Isabella, standing in the pouring rain. She saw me and ran over, her voice filled with worry. “Leo, you’re getting soaked! Let’s just go home and we can talk…” “Let go of me!” I ripped my arm from her grasp and stormed off into the downpour. She ran after me, calling my name, trying to shield me from the rain with her small hands. “Leo, I drove here! Please, let me give you a ride!” “You have stomach problems! You’ll get sick if you catch a cold!” “If you won’t get in the car, at least take my umbrella! I’ll worry about you…” “Leave me alone! Stop following me!” I stopped dead in my tracks and screamed at her, all my pent-up frustration and pain exploding out of me. “Just get away from me! GO!” “I never want to see you again! I don’t want to hear another word from you! Do you hear me?” “I will never, ever trust you again! Get out of my life! GET OUT!” I was shaking, my face a mess of rain and tears. My throat was raw, as if I had screamed myself bloody. Why? The day had been so normal. I had closed a deal with a client, I had eaten properly. I had even decided to finally schedule a check-up for my long-neglected stomach issues. I thought I was moving on. Why did the sight of her make me fall apart all over again? The only umbrella we had was knocked from my hand, snatched by the wind and sent tumbling down the street. Isabella’s elegant dress was ruined, plastered to her skin by the rain. We stood there, two pathetic, drenched figures. Despite my furious rejection, she stood as still as a statue, just staring at me. Her lips moved, soundlessly forming my name. Seeing her so broken and lost brought me no relief. It only made the weight on my chest heavier. A few passersby were staring. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wiped the water from my face and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the storm. Back home, after a hot shower, I could already feel a cold coming on, and a dull ache in my stomach. I took some medicine and was about to lie down when my phone lit up with a call from an unknown number. “Leo, you bastard! You blocked your own father?” “I’ve been going out of my mind! Isabella tried to kill herself! She cut her wrists!” “Downtown General, third floor, emergency room! Get your ass over here now!”

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