Category: English

At the company dinner, I snatched my unconscious male colleague back from death’s door. But the first words out of his mouth when he woke up were accusations that I’d taken advantage of him. He even posted online demanding I make it up to him by becoming his girlfriend. I thought that was the peak of shamelessness — until today’s meeting, when he collapsed at my feet clutching his chest again, and the entire company pressured me to save him. I let out a cold laugh, took half a step back, and dialed 91 “I wouldn’t dare touch him this time. What if he wakes up and demands I pay with my life?” 1 The moment those words left my mouth, the conference room — previously noisy with panic — fell into a deathly silence. Dozens of pairs of eyes swept back and forth between me and Trevor, who was convulsing on the floor, filled with shock, confusion, and veiled accusation. The air seemed to freeze. Trevor’s number one lackey, Harvey — always quick to read the room — turned beet red with fury, jabbing his finger at my nose as he launched into a tirade. “Clara! How can you be so vicious? This is a matter of life and death, and you’re throwing a tantrum? If anything happens to Trevor, can you handle the legal consequences?!” “No, I can’t,” I shot back, meeting his gaze without backing down, my eyes cold as ice. “At last month’s company dinner, he had an allergic reaction to seafood that caused acute shock. He couldn’t even breathe. I was the one who used my certified first aid training to perform the Heimlich maneuver and CPR, literally dragging him back from death’s door!” I took a deep breath, my voice echoing through the spacious conference room. “And what happened? When he woke up, he said I ripped his shirt. Said I groped his chest while he was unconscious. Even claimed I forced a kiss on him under the guise of rescue breathing! Not only did he demand ten thousand dollars for emotional distress, he posted a sob story in the company group chat pressuring me to become his girlfriend to ‘restore his reputation’!” “This time, if I touch him again and he wakes up claiming I deliberately hurt him, demanding I transfer my house to him and support his parents in their old age — Harvey, are you going to pay for all that?” Harvey was struck speechless by my rapid-fire questions, his face turning the color of liver, unable to squeeze out a single word. Quinn from the administrative department, always one to smooth things over, stomped his feet anxiously and rushed over to grab my arm, his voice trembling. “Clara! Please, I’m begging you — stop being stubborn! Save him first! Whatever the misunderstanding is, we can mediate it internally after Trevor wakes up, okay?” I forcefully shook off Quinn’s hand and cast a cold glance at Trevor lying on the floor, his chest still heaving violently. I held up my phone, the screen showing an active 911 call. “I’ve already called an ambulance. City Central Hospital is only two blocks away. Professional medical personnel are a thousand times more reliable than a half-baked certified amateur like me.” I scanned the circle of colleagues around me — all looking anxious but not one stepping forward — and my lips curved into a mocking smile. “And let’s be honest — if I have a sudden burst of compassion today and he stops breathing halfway through the rescue, won’t his family turn around and sue me for practicing medicine without a license? For manslaughter?” “Besides, all of you who usually call him your buddy and are so concerned about him now — how come not one of you is stepping up to give him mouth-to-mouth?” “Go ahead! Maybe when Trevor wakes up, he’ll look at you all starry-eyed and say you’re secretly in love with him, and you’ll have to take responsibility for his entire future!” The moment those words left my mouth, several colleagues who had been itching to persuade me suddenly shut up as if electrocuted. Everyone looked at each other, then uniformly took two large steps backward, as if afraid of being contaminated by something dirty. Just then, Trevor — lying “at death’s door” on the floor — suddenly twitched his fingers in an extremely unnatural way. Immediately after, he let out a weak but extraordinarily clear voice. “Clara… please… save me… if you save me, I won’t… blame you for what happened at the dinner… isn’t that enough?” I almost laughed out loud from sheer anger. I took another step back, completely withdrawing from the circle surrounding me, crossing my arms and looking down at his pathetic performance. “Don’t, Trevor. Please don’t be so generous. After you catch your breath, who knows — you might say I’m lusting after your body and demand I bear your child as penance. Someone like you? I could never aspire so high.” Just as I finished speaking, the wail of an approaching ambulance siren came from outside the window. The piercing alarm cut through the quiet office building. A miracle occurred. The instant he heard the siren, Trevor — who had seemed on the verge of death just seconds ago — suddenly opened his eyes wide. He planted his hands on the ground and sprang upright from the floor in one smooth motion! Not only was his complexion rosy, even his breathing had become perfectly smooth. “Clara! Do you have to be this difficult?” Trevor brushed the dust off his suit, looking at me with an expression of wounded disappointment. “I know you’ve secretly had a crush on me, and that day at the dinner you were just trying to make a move. You’re shy and embarrassed to admit it — I get it, I understand all that.” “But how can you say such vicious things just to spite me because I called you out? Don’t you know how much that hurts my feelings?” The colleagues who moments ago had been panicking, thinking someone might die, now stood frozen in place. Then the shock on their faces rapidly transformed into the excitement of watching drama unfold. “Oh? So you’re not dead after all?” I said with a cold laugh, my gaze sharp as a knife. “Since you’re so full of life, you can go downstairs and pay the ambulance dispatch fee yourself.” “Oh, and since you just claimed I’m spitefully trying to hurt you — want me to play the recording of you cornering me in the break room yesterday, forcing me to transfer you ten thousand dollars as a ‘relationship sincerity fund’ for everyone to hear?” Trevor’s face instantly went from red to white, then from white to green, his eyes beginning to dart around anxiously. “You… what are you talking about! What ten thousand dollars! That… that was me testing your feelings for me! That was our future relationship fund!” The surrounding colleagues finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst into laughter. The way everyone looked at him now was like watching a complete clown. I didn’t even spare him another glance, turning and striding back to my workstation. Saving him at last month’s dinner was the stupidest, most disgusting thing I’d ever done in my life. If I softened today, I’d be completely brain-dead. I thought that publicly exposing his true colors would finally put an end to this farce. But I underestimated how shameless people could be, and how dark the workplace really was. That evening at ten o’clock, I was at home applying a face mask when my phone suddenly vibrated. It was a voice call from Quinn. “Clara, you don’t need to come in to clock in tomorrow.” 2 I thought I’d misheard. I pulled off my face mask and turned my phone volume to maximum. “Quinn, what exactly do you mean by that?” On the other end, Quinn’s voice carried the coldness of official business and obvious impatience. “Trevor just submitted a sick leave note from City Hospital to the company, along with a diagnosis of severe depressive tendencies from the chief psychologist.” “He’s filed a formal complaint with upper management, claiming you publicly subjected him to verbal abuse and psychological harassment in the conference room today, causing him extremely serious psychological trauma.” “Management held a meeting to discuss it. The leadership’s decision is that for the greater good, you should voluntarily submit your resignation tomorrow. This looks better on your resume and minimizes the impact on the company.” I laughed in fury, anger surging to the top of my head. “He faked illness to extort people — the whole company saw it! Instead of firing that troublemaker, you’re firing me, the victim?” “Clara, don’t be so naive!” Quinn’s voice shot up an octave. “The company isn’t a court — the company wants stability and profits! The company doesn’t want to get dragged into your messy romantic drama!” “Last month’s dinner incident caused such an uproar that even several major clients came asking about the gossip. Do you know how much negative impact that had on the company’s corporate image?” “You young people dating, breaking up, getting back together — normally the company doesn’t interfere. But Trevor’s medical records clearly show he has a history of allergies and arrhythmia. If something had really happened to him in the company today, who would take responsibility for the workplace injury? Could you handle that?” Quinn paused, his tone taking on a naked threat. “I’ll only say this once. If you don’t agree to resign voluntarily, the company will issue a formal termination notice tomorrow.” “When that happens, your resignation letter will clearly state ‘terminated for suspected workplace sexual harassment and malicious bullying of colleagues.’ You’re still young — you don’t want to carry that kind of stain to job interviews at other companies, do you?” I gripped my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. I didn’t waste another word on this sycophantic manager, directly pressing the hang-up button. After taking several deep breaths to force myself to calm down, I opened the company SnapChat group. The group had completely exploded. Trevor had posted an extremely affected selfie. In the photo, he was lying in a hospital bed with an IV needle in his hand, connected to a drip, his chest wrapped with heart rate monitoring bands, his expression melancholic and broken. The caption was even more nauseating: [I always thought that if I was understanding enough, I could soften a stubborn heart. I never imagined that just because I rejected an irrational confession, I’d be publicly humiliated and denied life-saving help in front of the entire company. My chest still hurts. The doctor says I’m at risk for severe depression. I really don’t know what to do anymore. Do men in the workplace really deserve to be bullied like this?] What made it even more chilling was the long string of supportive, partisan comments below. Harvey was the first to jump in: [Hang in there, Trevor! Clara really went too far this time! No matter how bitter you are about rejection, you can’t joke around with someone’s life! This is basically attempted murder!] Another female colleague who was close to Trevor joined the pile-on: [Exactly! About last month’s dinner — maybe Clara really did force herself on Trevor while drunk. Trevor is usually so nice, always buying us afternoon tea. How could he possibly extort anyone?] Someone even made a snide remark: [I could tell ages ago that Clara had designs on Trevor. At the last team building event, she deliberately wore the same color outfit as Trevor. The way she looked at him — like she wanted to devour him whole.] Looking at these comments that twisted the truth, I rolled my eyes dramatically. The bigger the forest, the more kinds of birds you find. What a time to be alive! Trying to use these underhanded tactics to force me to resign voluntarily and whitewash your fake peace? Dream on! The next morning at nine o’clock, I put on a full face of makeup, clicked my heels, and clocked in right on time at the company entrance. As soon as I reached my workstation, I saw Trevor leaning against my desk holding a cup of coffee. Seeing me appear, surprise flashed across his face first, then that disgusting smile of “I knew you couldn’t stay away from me” spread across his features. “Clara, you still came. I knew it — those heartless things you said in the conference room yesterday were just to get my attention. You were just being contrary.” I looked at him coldly, as if looking at a pile of non-combustible garbage. “Move. You’re blocking me from breathing fresh air.” Not only did he not move, he actually leaned in closer, lowering his voice in what he probably thought was a charming tone: “Alright, stop pretending. I know you’re proud and would rather suffer than lose face. Yesterday you deliberately didn’t save me because you wanted to test whether I care about you, right?” “Let me tell you the truth — I already talked to Quinn. I told him we’re just a couple having a little spat, that I’m not pressing charges, and the company won’t fire you.” He raised an eyebrow with a magnanimous expression. “How about that? So moved you could cry? As long as you be my girlfriend right now, I’ll protect you at the company from now on.” I was genuinely shocked by this delusional man’s mental gymnastics. Did he really think he was some kind of domineering CEO? I laughed mockingly, loud enough for colleagues at several nearby workstations to hear clearly. “Trevor, do you not only have heart problems, but brain stem atrophy as well?” “Thanks so much to your whole family! Save your ‘touching gestures’ for when you’re visiting your own grave.” “And stay away from me. That scumbag stench on you is too suffocating. Bad luck!” Several colleagues who had been eavesdropping couldn’t help but snicker out loud. Trevor’s face instantly flushed red, completely unable to save face. He slammed the coffee cup on the desk and jabbed his finger at my nose, hissing viciously: “Clara! Don’t be so ungrateful! I’m telling you — if you don’t agree to be with me now, even if you strip naked and beg me on your knees later, I’ll think you’re too dirty!” I didn’t even lift an eyelid, simply pulled out a disinfectant wipe and vigorously cleaned the desk surface he’d just touched. Just then, the internal messaging software on my computer started flashing. Quinn sent a message: “Clara, come to my office. Now.” 3 I pushed open the manager’s office door. Quinn was sitting in his executive chair with a dark expression. “Clara, wasn’t I clear enough on the phone last night? The company asked you to voluntarily resign. Why did you still come in to clock in today?” I pulled out a chair and sat down calmly. “Quinn, I follow company rules and regulations. I’m never late or leave early, and my performance reviews are all excellent. I haven’t done anything wrong — why should I resign?” Quinn slammed his hand on the desk. “You haven’t done anything wrong? Your scandal with Trevor has the entire building gossiping about our company! Do you know that even the property management was asking me this morning which one of you harassed the other?” “You believe whatever Trevor says? He says I harassed him, but I say he’s extorting me! I have recordings of him forcing me to give him money yesterday. Why don’t you believe that?” Quinn was momentarily speechless from my retort, irritably loosening his tie. “Why are you being so stubborn with him? He has a depression diagnosis from the hospital. If he really does something extreme at the company — jumps off a building, cuts his wrists — the company will be held jointly liable!” “Having you resign voluntarily now is completely to protect you! If it really comes to the company issuing a termination notice, your file will be completely ruined. How will you survive in this industry after that?” Looking at Quinn’s sanctimonious face, I felt it was utterly ironic. “Thank you for your ‘good intentions,’ Quinn, but you needn’t worry about my future.” I pulled out my phone, brought up a photo of my advanced first aid certification, and shoved it right in his face. “At last month’s dinner, my emergency response for Trevor fully complied with international standard operating procedures. Not only is he ungrateful, he fabricated facts to slander me and damage my reputation. I haven’t even sued him in court yet, and your company is rushing to sweep the victim out the door?” “You want me to leave? Fine. If the company insists on terminating me, please issue a formal notice of contract termination according to labor law and pay N+1 compensation.” “Short me one cent, and we’ll see each other in labor arbitration. When that happens, I’ll not only sue the company for illegal termination, I’ll use Trevor’s statements in the company group as evidence and sue the company for harboring and enabling workplace sexual harassment. We’ll see whose face looks worse then!” Quinn trembled with rage, pointing at the office door, barely squeezing out one word: “Get out! Get out of my office!” I clicked my heels and walked out of the office with my head held high. As soon as I returned to my workstation, Piper — an intern I usually got along well with — came over with red-rimmed eyes, her voice very low. “Clara, stop fighting with the company. Look at Twitter and the local forum — Trevor posted about this online last night and bought a troll army. The whole internet is cyberbullying you now!” My heart sank. I immediately opened my phone to search. Sure enough, at the tail end of the local trending topics was a glaring hashtag: #ManipulativeWomanTriesToMurderMaleColleagueAfterRejection Clicking in, I found a long post by Trevor, accompanied by a carefully edited video. The video was only about ten seconds long, starting from yesterday’s conference room scene. In the footage, Trevor collapsed in pain, colleagues called for help anxiously, while I coldly stepped back, saying: “I wouldn’t dare touch him. What if he wakes up and demands I pay with my life?” All context had been cleanly edited out, leaving only my “cold-blooded and heartless” moment. In the long post, he portrayed himself as a clean-living, hardworking, sunny young man, while I was a psychologically twisted woman who took advantage of him at the dinner, then held a grudge after being rejected and attempted to let him die in the conference room. The comment section had completely fallen, with unbearable abuse flooding in like a tide. [Holy crap! This woman is so vicious! If you can’t have him, you’ll destroy him? This is like a real-life Fatal Attraction!] [She looks so normal on the outside, but her heart is this black! Women like this should be arrested and sentenced!] [Men need to protect themselves in the workplace too! This woman is obviously a psycho!] [Someone expose this woman’s workplace and home address! She needs to be socially destroyed!] [I know her! She works at our company. She’s always been promiscuous at work, hitting on male colleagues everywhere!] I scrolled down several pages, looking at those vicious curses. Even my parents had been dragged into it. My hands trembled uncontrollably with rage. Piper tugged at my sleeve beside me, almost crying with anxiety. “Clara, a lot of netizens are doxxing your personal information now. Even your phone number has been posted. You should just apologize and resign to lie low for a while. We ordinary people can’t afford to mess with scum like this.” I took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the fury in my chest. Can’t afford to mess with him? I’m going to mess with him anyway! Just then, Trevor sauntered over with his hands in his pockets. Looking at my pale face, he couldn’t hide the smugness on his face. “How about it, Clara? Now you know what happens when you cross me, right?” He leaned down, using a voice only the two of us could hear, whispering viciously: “Let me tell you — internet mobs have no reason. If I add a little more fuel to the fire, tomorrow your photo will be made into a funeral portrait and sent to your parents’ phones.” “You want to calm this down? Sure.” A lecherous gleam flashed in his eyes. “As long as you kneel down in front of the entire company right now and apologize to me, admit that you seduced me. Then tonight, come to my place and keep me company. I’ll be magnanimous, delete the post, and say it was all a misunderstanding.” “Otherwise, I’ll make sure you can never hold your head up for the rest of your life!”

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Growing up in New York, I decided to move to Texas for Ashley, and my parents completely cut me off. “That girl is an orphan, what could she possibly offer you? You’re just setting yourself up for a lifetime of misery! If you leave now, don’t you dare come back!” Five years. I watched Ashley steadily climb to become one of Texas’s top psychologists, and she eventually gave me the home she promised. As Christmas approached, I planned to take her back to meet my parents. But right before boarding, she abandoned me again for a male patient suffering from severe depression. She let go of my hand, her eyes fractured. “Jackson, he’s just like I was back then… helpless and alone. If I don’t go, he really will kill himself! I’m so sorry, just this once. I’ll take the very next flight to find you…” She turned and ran towards the exit, without a second thought. I stood there, staring at the two tickets to New York in my hand. It turned out she saved everyone who needed saving, but time and again, she left me behind. Slowly, I tore up her ticket. Then, I walked towards security alone, switching off my phone. Ashley didn’t know that some journeys home, once missed, are gone forever.

I returned to my New York home alone. Mom opened the door. The moment her gaze fell on the empty space behind me, her eyes filled with a flicker of heartache. Dad sat on the sofa, his back ramrod straight, yet radiating a profound weariness. I couldn’t help but recall Mom and Dad’s words from five years ago. Now, I was back, like a defeated soldier. I turned my phone on and off; Ashley’s unread messages and missed calls practically blew up my phone. “Jackson, I’m so sorry! Wait for me!” “His condition is stable, I’m buying a ticket right now!” “Please answer, I beg you, let me explain!” I didn’t reply to a single one. My heart felt frozen, cold and hard. I remembered three years ago, when she snuggled into my arms, sweet-talking me: “Jackson, I, Ashley, will never let you down in this lifetime.” Now, those vows had melted away like snow. Ashley arrived late the next evening. Gone was her usual elegance, her eyes sunken, stubbornly waiting below my building. “Jackson… just five minutes, please, five minutes…” Her voice was hoarse, almost broken. My parents, their faces stern, didn’t let her in. She held up her phone, the screen’s light illuminating her pale face. “Look! The referral agreement! I’ve officially transferred Lucas to Dr. Pete! All his contact info, deleted, blocked!” She swiped the screen, her fingers trembling violently. “I was an idiot! I lost my mind! I shouldn’t have left you! Jackson, I can’t live without you…” She brought up the year we lived in the basement, when the heating broke down in winter, and she held me, warming me with her body heat. She spoke of working herself to the bone, just to give me a decent home sooner, so I could hold my head high in front of my parents. “Jackson, all my efforts were for you, for our future…” Suddenly, mid-sentence, her face changed. She covered her mouth and rushed to the nearby green space, dry-heaving. When she came back, her face even paler, I looked at her flat stomach, and a thought flashed through my mind like lightning. “You…” My voice was dry. She looked up, her eyes tear-filled, and nodded, her hand instinctively protecting her abdomen. “Almost two months… Jackson, we’re having a baby.” Looking at her bloodshot eyes and the hand protecting her stomach, my heart was intensely squeezed. For these past five years, and for this unexpectedly arriving child. I heard my own voice, utterly exhausted. “Ashley, this is the last time.” Under the profoundly disappointed gaze of my parents, I returned to Texas with her. On the plane, she clutched my hand tightly, as if holding a treasure she’d thought lost forever. But as I looked at the sea of clouds outside the window, my heart felt empty. This forgiveness, I realized, was a gamble on my last shreds of hope, and an innocent life.

In the half-month after returning from New York, Ashley became incredibly cautious. She took care of all the housework, came home on time, and reported every little detail. She bought pregnancy guides and prenatal education books, and in the evenings, leaning against the headboard, she’d caress her still-flat stomach and read stories in the gentle voice she used as a psychologist. “Our baby will definitely be the happiest child in the world.” Her eyes sparkled, just like they used to. But shadows, they always followed. Her phone started receiving missed calls from unknown numbers. She’d glance at it, annoyed, then hang up and block the number. “It’s probably him, using different numbers. He’s like a persistent shadow.” She explained, but a flicker of something imperceptible crossed her eyes. Then came burner account requests on social media, validation messages pouring out his heart: “Dr. Ashley, I know I shouldn’t disturb your happiness, but without you, my world is bleak; I can’t even pick up a paintbrush…” She rejected the request right in front of me, but her fingertip lingered on the message for a moment. That day, after her prenatal check-up, the baby was healthy, its heartbeat strong. I tried to immerse myself in the slight joy of becoming a father, walking out of the hospital arm-in-arm with her. Her phone rang again. It was Dr. Pete, Lucas’s new attending physician. “Dr. Ashley, sorry to bother you. Lucas is severely resistant to treatment. He mentioned some… details about his childhood abuse that only you know, which are crucial for diagnosis. Could you perhaps…” Ashley walked aside, speaking in a low voice for a long time. When she returned, her forehead was deeply furrowed, and her face looked troubled. “Work stuff?” I asked, that flicker of joy in my heart shrouded in a thin mist. “Yeah, just a minor issue.” She tried to put her arm around me, but her arm felt stiff. That night, I woke up thirsty, and the space beside me was empty. A faint light came from the living room. Ashley sat on the sofa, staring at her phone screen, her fingers gently caressing her stomach, her face pale in the glow of the screen. It was Lucas’s Ins burner account, updated just ten minutes ago: “If the care was fake, what was the warmth before? This world might as well plunge into complete darkness.” She was so engrossed that she didn’t even notice me approach. In that moment, I suddenly remembered my junior year of college when I had acute gastroenteritis, vomiting and diarrhea. She had watched over me then, staying up all night. But now, she was watching over another man’s sorrowful ramblings. A strong sense of unease settled in my heart.

Lucas’s condition unfolded like a meticulously orchestrated play. One scene after another, constantly pushing my limits of endurance. Ashley’s phone became an alarm bell that only rang for him. And each ring, it seemed, drained her physically. Late at night, Lucas suffered drug side effects, struggling to breathe. Ashley answered the phone, soothing him in a low voice for nearly an hour. After hanging up, her face was pale, and a dull ache pulsed in her lower abdomen. I was terrified and wanted to call an ambulance, but she forced a smile and said she just needed rest, stubbornly refusing to go to the hospital. In the early hours, Lucas experienced paranoid delusions and panic attacks. Ashley grabbed her car keys, ready to leave, but I blocked the doorway. “Have you forgotten the doctor said you need bed rest? You can’t be stressing yourself out in your current condition!” She looked at me, her eyes full of struggle. “Jackson, he’s a high-risk patient… I can’t just stand by and do nothing. Just this once, I’ll be back soon.” When she returned, her face was drawn with exhaustion, and there were faint red stains on her pants. She weakly explained that she was just tired, telling me not to worry. My doubts and unease were interpreted by her as a lack of empathy and a misunderstanding of her profession. “Jackson, you used to be so kind, why can’t you be understanding now? This is my responsibility.” She looked at me, her eyes filled with weariness and a hint of disappointment. Because I was kind, I deserved to watch her repeatedly put herself and our child in danger for others. Finally, she offered to accompany me to a long-awaited art exhibition as a form of compensation. As soon as we reached the exhibition hall entrance, her phone rang again. She glanced at it, hung up immediately, but her face instantly turned grim, and her hand instinctively covered her abdomen. “Him again?” My heart sank further, my gaze fixed on her hand protecting her stomach. “…Telemarketer,” she said, her eyes darting away. The phone kept vibrating, so insistent it made my heart race. She finally gave in, walking to a corner to answer. “Lucas! Calm down! Don’t do anything foolish! …Okay, wait there, I’m on my way!” She returned, her face etched with anxiety, beads of cold sweat forming on her forehead. “Jackson, the exhibition’s off. He’s on the edge of the rooftop… He said if I don’t go, he’ll jump!” I looked at her pale face and the hand instinctively protecting her stomach, my voice so cold it felt foreign even to myself. “So, our date, our baby, once again, less important than his little show? Ashley, just look at your own face!” She painfully clutched at her hair, her body trembling slightly. “Just this once! I swear it’s the last time! To completely resolve this! Otherwise, if he really dies, I’ll live with that shadow forever, and our baby won’t be happy either!” She turned and ran towards the parking lot, her steps a bit unsteady, but her back showed no hesitation. I stood alone on the bustling street, surrounded by people coming and going. A cold dread settled in my chest. When she returned that night, her condition was even worse. Abdominal pain intensified, and the bleeding was noticeably heavier. Rushed to the emergency room, the doctor diagnosed “threatened miscarriage” and ordered bed rest. On the hospital bed, she held my hand, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Jackson, I’m so sorry, baby… I never thought it would come to this.” My heart twisted in agony, but all I could say was, “Let’s just focus on saving the baby for now.”

Ashley’s hospital was celebrating its anniversary. She insisted I accompany her. “Let everyone see how wonderful my husband is.” She gently caressed her slightly rounded abdomen, her face showing a fragile hope. I looked at the weariness in her eyes and her forced smile, and eventually nodded. I chose a suitable suit, trying my best to hide the exhaustion of the past few days. The hall was filled with glamorous guests, their conversations a soft hum. Her colleagues came to toast, offering congratulations and blessings. Ashley smiled and responded, her hand gently resting on the back of my chair, her other hand occasionally protecting her stomach. This carefully maintained calm only lasted until Lucas appeared. He wore a stark white suit, his face pale and gaunt, like a ghost, his gaze piercing through the crowd, locking onto Ashley. Then, in full view of everyone, he rushed over and grabbed Ashley’s arm. Tears streamed down his face, his voice quiet but every word clear, laced with a broken tremor: “Dr. Ashley! You said I was the most understood person you’d ever met! Why are you abandoning me now? Is it because you have a family, a child, so I’ve become an extra burden? Is it because Mr. Jackson… can’t tolerate me?” The entire room fell silent. All eyes, like spotlights, swiveled to me, a mix of shock, scrutiny, and unspoken pity. Ashley was completely frozen. The next second, she even instinctively switched into professional mode, saying in a gentle, soothing voice: “Lucas, don’t do this, calm down, this isn’t appropriate, let’s just…” I stood there, stripped bare of all pretense, my dignity trampled into the dust by the two of them. Finally, the hospital director’s face was dark with anger, and he motioned for security to escort Lucas away. He struggled, turning back to stare fixedly at Ashley, and shrieked desperately: “Ashley! I’ll really die without you! You promised you wouldn’t give up on me!” The drive home was a deathly silence. Only the low hum of the engine, and the pounding of my own blood rushing to my head. Ashley’s face was ashen, her hand tightly covering her stomach, her lips trembling, trying to say something, but no sound came out. Suddenly, she let out a stifled groan, her body curling up. “Ashley?” My heart tightened sharply. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, her voice trembling: “My stomach… it hurts a little…” I looked down and saw a small, stark patch of bright red visibly spreading on her light-colored skirt. “To the hospital!” In the emergency room, the doctor’s expression was grave after the examination. “We must admit her immediately for bed rest to prevent miscarriage! The pregnant woman’s emotions absolutely cannot be stimulated any further!” Ashley was wheeled into the ward, lying on the stark white bed, her face utterly bloodless. Standing by the bed, looking at her tightly closed eyes and the hand protecting her stomach, my heart felt utterly cold. What did I, and this family, even mean to her?

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Three years ago, I went to the old building site for Xavier. I pushed his brother out of the way and got trapped under the rubble myself. My left leg was ruined, my lumbar spine injured, and my career destroyed. But in these three years, all Xavier remembers is Mandy trembling whenever it rains. How she cried about nearly dying in that old building. Meanwhile, dragging my injured leg, I became the “villain who torments people with the past.” She took my heating blanket, occupied my rehabilitation room, and even ruined the restoration plan I’d spent three years working on with a single glass of water. I finally realized. There was no place for me in his heart anymore. So I stopped waiting. I put my wedding ring and house keys in an envelope. I slipped the family risk waiver among a pile of compensation documents and placed them in front of Xavier. He signed. Three days later, a car from the Rescue Research Bureau picked me up at 3 AM. This time, I’m the one outside the rubble, watching him fail to catch up.

Charlotte’s POV Three years ago, Xavier was supposed to go to the old building site for final inspection. Mandy called him, crying that the debts from her family were suffocating her, begging him to come over. Xavier changed course at the last minute and called me, asking me to go to the old building in his place for one last check. I went. That building had been abandoned too long. Old materials were still stuck in the walls, and several workers were inside moving things. I’d just noticed cracks in the west load-bearing wall when I ordered everyone to evacuate immediately. But it was too late. When the building collapsed a second time, Adrian was trapped near the most dangerous wall. I rushed over and pushed him out of the way. I was the one who got crushed underneath. When they pulled me out, my left leg was covered in blood and my lumbar spine was injured. The doctors saved my life, but they couldn’t save my future. After that, I couldn’t stand for long, couldn’t run, couldn’t go back to fieldwork. When the weather turned rainy, my old injury felt like someone was hammering nails into my bones. Mandy had only been on the outer perimeter that day, getting her arm scratched by debris. But in these three years, what Xavier remembered was that Mandy trembles whenever it rains, that she cries about nearly dying in that old building. Meanwhile, dragging my injured leg, I became the one who handled things improperly and traumatized people. Another rainy day. I sat on the single sofa in the living room, my left leg stiff and aching. My support brace lay at my feet. I bent down to fasten the buckle, my fingers trembling with pain. There was movement at the door. The driver brought Mandy inside. She wore my heating blanket draped over her shoulders and had on the soft slippers I kept by the entrance, leaning against Xavier’s side. “The rain outside is too heavy.” Mandy’s voice was soft. “Whenever I hear rain, I think of the sound of the old building collapsing.” Xavier immediately helped her sit down. He turned and saw me still fastening my brace, his brow furrowing. “Stop fussing with that leg of yours.” He said. “Get Mandy some water.” I braced myself against the sofa to stand up. The moment my left leg took weight, my knee buckled. I fell back onto the sofa, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Xavier’s expression darkened immediately. “The doctor said long ago that you can live normally.” He stared at me. “Don’t use your leg as an excuse every time I need you to do something.” Mandy quickly grabbed his sleeve. “Xavier, don’t talk to Charlotte like that.” Her eyes reddened slightly. “She was injured that day too. Maybe she’s really in pain.” Injured too. Those four words from her mouth were as light as a speck of dust. Three years of not being able to walk normally, reduced in her mouth to just “injured too.” I didn’t argue. I braced myself against the armrest and stood up again, not letting myself fall this time. Xavier reached out as if to help me, but Mandy suddenly clutched her chest and drew in a sharp breath. “I feel a bit suffocated… probably still afraid of the rain.” Xavier withdrew his hand. He turned to help Mandy, his tone softening. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” I bent down to pick up the brace myself. The strap scraped against my old injury and my vision went black with pain. When Xavier looked back, he only saw me bowing my head, slowly tidying up. His voice grew colder. “Mandy hasn’t been able to sleep well whenever it rains these past few years. You should know that.” I looked up at him. After a moment, I asked, “What temperature for the water?” Xavier seemed blocked by my calm question and paused. “Whatever. Just don’t make a mess.” Mandy followed behind, wearing that heating blanket, softly reminding me. “Charlotte, don’t make it too cold. I can’t drink cold water.” I walked toward the kitchen step by step. My left leg dragged on the floor, each step heavy. Steam quickly filled the kitchen. I leaned against the counter for a long time, waiting for the shooting pain in my leg to pass before continuing. Mandy stood in the doorway watching the water, then suddenly spoke. “I still dream about that day three years ago.” I didn’t turn around, just adjusted the temperature lower. Mandy took a step forward, lowering her voice. “I dream about the wall collapsing, dream about you not listening to advice and insisting on going in to show off.” My hand paused. Mandy spoke again. “Have you ever thought these past years that if you’d been more careful that day, I wouldn’t have ended up like this.” Footsteps sounded outside the door. Mandy immediately lowered her eyes, her fingers gripping the doorframe, looking like she’d just been bullied. Xavier came in, first checking her expression, then looking at me. He didn’t ask what Mandy had said, only saying. “Hurry up. Don’t keep the patient waiting.” I turned off the heat and poured the water into a cup. The cup was too hot. My wrist trembled and water splashed onto the back of my hand. My skin immediately turned red. Xavier saw it and only frowned. “You can even make a scene out of pouring water.” I pushed the cup onto the tray without touching the burn. That night, I returned to my room, my leg hurting too much to sleep. The brace lay beside the bed, the strap still stained with water from the kitchen. My computer screen glowed with an email at the top. A preliminary approval notice from the Rescue Research Bureau, sent three minutes ago. They approved my post-accident field assessment report and required me to submit supplementary materials within three days. Subsequent procedures involved long-term overseas deployment, communication restrictions, and family risk confirmation. After reading the email, I took the heating blanket that Mandy had worn during the day from the chair back and placed it at the bottom of a cardboard box. Then I dragged out the file folder from the old building accident three years ago and placed it on my desk. Rain still hadn’t stopped outside the window. I filled in the first line in the supplementary materials section. Outside the door, Xavier’s footsteps as he walked Mandy upstairs gradually grew closer.

Charlotte’s POV Early the next morning, I went to the hospital alone. My left leg had been hurting since last night, and I couldn’t straighten my back. Someone passed by outside the examination room pushing a wheelchair. The sound of wheels rolling over the floor made me briefly lose focus. The doctor looked at the scan and pushed the report in front of me. “The old injury hasn’t worsened, but there’s no room for improvement either.” I looked up. The doctor continued. “Normal daily life is fine. But standing for long periods, running, entering dangerous sites, or high-load walking. None of that is suitable.” He paused, then added. “If the Rescue Research Bureau wants you doing rear analysis and route assessment, you can manage. But if you want to return to fieldwork, this leg won’t allow it.” I picked up the report, my fingers pressing against the paper’s edge. “If I persist with rehabilitation, is there any chance of recovering enough to enter field sites?” The doctor didn’t respond immediately. He rehung the scan on the light board, the white light illuminating the bone shadows clearly. “Miss Charlotte, don’t gamble with this leg.” I folded the report and stuffed it into my bag. As I left the examination room, I steadied myself against the wall, but quickly stood on my own. When I returned to the house, no one was in the living room. I wanted to put the report back in my room first. Passing the walk-in closet, I found the door open. My usual robe was gone. The braces in the drawer had been rifled through, spare support bands tossed on the floor. I bent down to pick them up, a sharp pain shooting through my side. Mandy’s laughter came from upstairs. I held the stair rail and went up. The bedroom door was half open. Mandy stood in front of the mirror wearing my robe, the sleeves casually rolled up. My brace sat on a chair beside her, pushed aside like some eyesore. Mandy saw me and looked surprised at first, then said softly. “Charlotte, you’re back? I couldn’t sleep last night and grabbed a robe without realizing it was yours.” I walked over and reached for the brace. Mandy immediately clutched her chest and stepped back half a step. “Don’t come in so suddenly. I just calmed down and you’re scaring me.” Xavier came from the other end of the hallway, first steadying Mandy. “What’s wrong?” Mandy shook her head. “It’s nothing. I took the wrong robe and Charlotte might be upset.” I held the brace in my hand. “This is my rehabilitation equipment. It can’t be touched carelessly.” Xavier glanced at the brace, his face already showing impatience. “The house is so big. Mandy just moved in and isn’t familiar yet. It’s normal to take the wrong thing.” His voice turned cold. “You don’t need to corner her in the room over something so trivial.” I said. “The support band is deformed. It’ll affect my walking.” Xavier’s eyes swept over my leg. “You’re not going out to run projects anymore anyway. Going one day without it won’t hurt.” One sentence, reducing my three years of rehabilitation to useless struggling. Mandy lowered her head to unbutton the robe, her eyes reddening first. “Then I’ll take it off right now and give it back to Charlotte.” She moved slowly, as if being forced to humiliate herself in public. Xavier pressed down on her hand. “Keep wearing it.” After speaking, he turned to look at me. “You wear something else.” I looked at that robe. It was what I often wore when my old injury flared up, fabric that had pressed against my numb leg countless times. Now on Mandy’s body, it was as if even my last trace in this house had been tried on by someone else. I said nothing more and went downstairs with the brace. There were already two suitcases outside the rehabilitation room door. I pushed the door open. The handrails were still inside, along with the equipment I used every day to practice walking. Documents from the old building accident were scattered on the desk. Supplementary materials I’d been organizing last night. I put the brace back in place and opened my computer to continue writing. The Rescue Research Bureau required me to supplement details of my on-site assessment from three years ago. When I wrote “before the second collapse, cracks had appeared in the west load-bearing wall,” my hand paused. That day before I pushed Adrian away, I did hear Mandy screaming on the outer perimeter. But Mandy was far from the collapse point. Footsteps sounded at the door. Mandy had already changed back into her own clothes and stood at the doorway. She saw the words “old building accident” on the screen and her expression immediately changed. “Why are you still digging through these things?” I closed the computer. “My materials.” Mandy stepped back, her voice trembling. “Are you determined to drag everyone back to that day? You know I feel terrible when I see these things.” Xavier was quickly called over by her. Mandy leaned against him, her hands still shaking. “I just came to apologize to Charlotte, but I didn’t expect to see these old building materials. When I saw them, I thought of the wall collapsing that day, thought about how I almost died.” I stood by the desk, the computer already closed. I looked at Xavier. “She was on the outer perimeter at the time.” Xavier’s expression darkened. “Are you still distinguishing who was inside and who was outside?” I said nothing. Xavier took a step forward, his voice heavier. “No wonder Mandy hasn’t been able to move on these years. You were injured too. You should know better than anyone how terrifying that day was.” Mandy tugged at his sleeve, saying softly. “Xavier, stop it. I don’t mind being wronged a little.” Xavier didn’t stop. “She just took the wrong robe and touched your brace, and you put on this attitude.” He stared at me, saying word by word. “You owe Mandy for what happened at the old building.” I stood leaning against the desk edge without responding. The computer screen went black, reflecting my left leg hanging at my side.

Charlotte’s POV I’d been working on an old building restoration plan for three years. After the accident at that old building, the barriers were never removed. The cracks in the walls remained, and families of injured workers never truly dispersed. Some moved away, some demanded compensation, and some still brought flowers to the ruins every year. Unable to return to fieldwork, I sat in the rehabilitation room, bit by bit organizing old blueprints, lists of injured people, compensation gaps, and subsequent renovation plans. I wanted to convert that ruin into a rehabilitation center. Xavier didn’t know about this. Whenever he saw the words “old building,” he would frown and say I was dredging up old accounts to provoke Mandy. That morning, I printed out the plan, preparing to mail it to the head of the Rescue Research Bureau. I went to the kitchen to heat some water. When I returned, the rehabilitation room door was open. Mandy stood at the desk, her water glass tipped over beside her. My printed plan was completely soaked. The pages stuck together in a clump, ink bleeding out. The injured persons list and renovation diagrams were blurred beyond recognition. I stopped in the doorway. Mandy frantically grabbed tissues to wipe it up, her voice trembling first. “Charlotte, I was just trying to tidy your desk. I didn’t expect the glass to tip over… I start shaking whenever I see anything about the old building.” I walked over and picked up the top page. The paper had gone soft, the logo in the bottom left corner completely ruined. Tears quickly fell from Mandy’s eyes. “I really didn’t do it on purpose. You know I’m most afraid of the old building, yet you spread these things all over the house.” I looked at her. “Why did you come into the rehabilitation room?” Mandy’s crying paused for a moment, then became even more aggrieved. “I just wanted to get the shawl I left here last night.” The shawl was on a chair by the door, far from the desk. When Xavier came in, I was peeling apart the soaked plan page by page. The pages were stuck too tightly. The slightest touch would tear them. Mandy went to him first. “Xavier, I’ve caused trouble… I saw the old building materials and my hand slipped, knocking over the water glass. Charlotte seems really angry.” Xavier swept his eyes over the desk full of wet papers, his brow furrowed. He didn’t ask what those papers were, only asking me. “Why did you take out old building materials again?” I said. “The restoration plan. I’ve been working on it for three years.” “Three years?” Xavier’s expression grew worse. “Instead of properly resting your leg these three years, you’ve been clinging to that accident every day. No wonder there’s no peace in this house.” I set aside the torn diagram. “That ruin can’t just sit there rotting, and the people injured that year still haven’t been properly settled.” Xavier cut me off directly. “Don’t use those words to pressure people.” He shielded Mandy behind him, his voice cold and hard. “Mandy gets scared just seeing old building materials. You spread this stuff around the house, frighten her like this, and still want to lecture people?” Mandy said quietly. “Xavier, I can’t repay Charlotte for three years of hard work.” Hearing this, Xavier became even more impatient. “It’s just some worthless papers. You don’t need to repay her.” I looked up at him. “Do you know how many injured families are in this plan?” Xavier paused, then quickly looked away. “If you really want to compensate those people, first learn not to keep provoking the living person in front of you.” My hand still pressed on the wet paper, my fingertips covered in spreading ink. I didn’t ask anything more. Xavier said. “Apologize to Mandy.” Mandy immediately tugged his sleeve. “Forget it, Xavier, I’m fine…” Xavier looked at me. “She just moved in. Her physical and emotional state are both unstable. You can’t keep scaring her with old matters.” I looked down at that pile of ruined plan. “I’m sorry.” My tone was flat. Mandy froze, as if she hadn’t expected me to back down so quickly. Xavier also frowned, the reprimand he’d prepared stuck in his throat. I turned to get a garbage bag and loaded the soaked papers in stack by stack. Xavier stood in the doorway without leaving. Mandy tugged his sleeve, saying she felt dizzy. Only then did he help her leave. After the door closed, the rehabilitation room grew quiet. I sat back at the desk and opened my computer. There was still a backup in the cloud. I redownloaded it and checked the attachments. Then I packaged everything. The injured persons list, renovation diagrams, risk assessment tables, and field assessment notes. The director had sent an email this morning urging me to submit supplementary materials. I uploaded the compressed file and wrote in the notes: The old building restoration plan can serve as proof of on-site assessment capability and may also be referenced for future assignments. After sending successfully, a receipt quickly appeared in my inbox. I picked up the last small piece of wet paper from the desk and threw it in the garbage bag. Only half a line remained on the paper: Rehabilitation Center Preliminary Plan. Upstairs came the sound of Xavier coaxing Mandy to rest. I closed the rehabilitation room door and began organizing the remaining materials in the cabinet.

Charlotte’s POV At breakfast, Mandy cradled a mug of hot water, dark circles under her eyes. “I couldn’t sleep all night. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the old building collapsing.” Xavier had the servants change her to a guest room. But Mandy shook her head. “The guest room is too dark. That room at the end of the hall has good lighting and handrails by the door. I’d feel safer there.” That was my rehabilitation room. I put down my knife and fork. “There’s rehabilitation equipment and old building materials inside. It can’t be used as a bedroom.” Mandy immediately lowered her head. “I was just making a suggestion. I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” Xavier looked at me and said directly. “Move your things out.” I reminded him. “That room is where I practice with my leg every day.” Xavier set down his chopsticks. “You’ve been practicing with that leg for three years and this is all it amounts to. Going without the room for a few days won’t make it worse.” I got up and went to the rehabilitation room. I dismantled the wall-mounted handrails. When I bent over, my side hurt so badly I had to lean against the desk edge to recover. Mandy stood in the doorway, softly saying she could stay elsewhere, but her words never strayed from how this room had good lighting, was close to Xavier at night, and how someone could hear her if she got scared. Xavier walked in and saw me moving slowly, frowning. “Don’t dawdle.” I put the braces into a cardboard box. “These can’t be touched carelessly.” Xavier didn’t even look closely. “Mandy won’t touch your junk.” Mandy immediately said quietly. “I’m afraid of breaking Charlotte’s things and having her blame me again.” Xavier immediately said to me. “Take the important materials too, so there won’t be problems later that get blamed on Mandy.” I loaded the old building materials into boxes stack by stack without responding. Adrian came upstairs from below, holding a package. He saw me holding old building materials and stopped. “Organizing that accident from three years ago again?” Before I could answer, Mandy stiffened. Adrian looked down and saw the old building floor plan peeking out of the file folder, his brow furrowing. “I keep dreaming about that wall lately.” Xavier’s movements stopped. Adrian clutched the package, his voice hesitant. “I dream about someone pushing me out from underneath.” The hallway suddenly went quiet. Xavier looked at him. Adrian continued. “That person seemed to be…” Mandy’s cup knocked against the doorframe with a sound. Her face went pale as she held onto the doorframe saying. “Xavier, I’m dizzy.” Xavier immediately went to help her. Adrian wanted to continue but was interrupted by Mandy’s gasping. Xavier looked back, his tone dropping. “Don’t bring up old matters here. Go back to your room and rest.” Adrian looked at him, then at me, and finally went downstairs clutching his package. I pressed the floor plan back into the file folder and continued packing boxes. The rehabilitation room quickly emptied. After the handrails were removed, only a row of screw holes remained on the wall. Braces, support bands, old building materials, and my computer were packed into two boxes that I pushed to the end of the hallway. Mandy sat by the window wearing that heating blanket, saying softly. “This room really is more comfortable than the guest room.” Xavier had the servants move a bed in and told me. “Don’t stand blocking the doorway.” I leaned on the boxes to drag them out, my left leg lagging several steps behind. Xavier watched me, seeming like he wanted to say something, but finally only reminded me. “Don’t dirty the stairs.” I dragged the boxes back to the bedroom and opened the Rescue Research Bureau email page. The official notice had arrived. Supplementary materials approved. The next step required my current spouse to sign the family risk waiver. After confirmation, I could enter closed review. I sat on the floor and separated the two boxes of materials again. Old building accident materials, rehabilitation records, and restoration plan backups on one side. Marital property documents, old building compensation details, and family risk waiver on the other. I tucked the risk waiver into the middle of the property settlement materials, then folded the pages so only the signature line showed. Downstairs, Xavier had the servants change Mandy’s bedding. Mandy asked in the rehabilitation room. “Can the curtains be changed to a lighter color? I’m afraid of darkness.” Xavier said. “Change them.” I heard it. I sealed the document envelope and put it in my bag. Then I placed the rehabilitation room key on the desk.

Charlotte’s POV That night, I received a call from the Bureau director. He said my old building restoration plan and field assessment materials had passed preliminary review. Especially my assessment of changes in the west load-bearing wall before the second collapse. It was very useful for the dangerous building early warning model. I glanced at the door and lowered my voice. “What else is needed going forward?” The director explained the process clearly. After entering the Rescue Research Bureau, I would be deployed overseas long-term. Mission sites would mostly be in collapse zones, post-disaster buildings, and overseas dangerous building sites. Communications would be managed uniformly by the Bureau. Family members couldn’t contact freely. Once review began, personal itinerary and files would be protected. I gripped the phone and asked. “Will my leg be grounds for rejection?” The other end paused for a few seconds. “The Bureau doesn’t only need people who can run into sites.” The director said, “We also need people who can assess before an accident happens. Where will collapse, how to evacuate, which routes to use for entry and exit.” My hand moved to my left leg. That leg had hurt for three years. Finally someone was saying I wasn’t useless. The director continued. “The next step requires your current spouse to sign the family risk waiver. After signing, family members have no authority to interfere with deployment during missions, nor can they demand termination of closed management based on marital status.” “How long?” “Three days. After that the slot moves to the next candidate.” I said. “I’ll handle it.” As soon as I hung up, the door was pushed open. Xavier stood in the doorway. “Who were you talking to?” I minimized the email window. “About the old building compensation.” Xavier’s expression immediately turned cold. “Mandy just moved in. The house should avoid mentioning the old building.” I put down my phone. “I’ll handle it all cleanly as soon as possible.” Xavier walked to the desk and flipped through the stack of old building compensation details. “Planning to use money to make a point again?” I didn’t deny it. “Some old debts need settling.” Xavier sneered. “You’re best at playing the victim these years. If you really want to settle things, Mandy should get a share too.” I followed his lead. “That’s fine. The compensation can be divided with her, she can keep using the rehabilitation room. As long as the documents get signed clearly afterward.” Xavier had been about to lose his temper, but hearing this he stopped instead. He stared at me, as if trying to see whether I was making trouble again. I handed him an ordinary settlement form. “No rush. When all the materials are ready, we’ll sign together.” Xavier glanced at it without looking closely and tossed the paper back on the desk. “If you’d been like this earlier, there’d be a lot less trouble in this house.” After he left, I reorganized the documents. On top I placed the old building compensation division form. In the middle I tucked the rehabilitation room usage confirmation, personal property transfer list, and family risk waiver. At the bottom I placed a draft commitment to no longer pursue the matter with the family after the old building accident. Every page was real. Xavier would just see the pages he wanted to see first. I attached sticky note tabs to each signature line. Downstairs, Mandy called Xavier, saying the rehabilitation room was missing a bedside lamp. Xavier had the servants buy a new one. I tucked the last risk waiver back into the envelope. In the early morning hours, the Bureau sent supplementary mission details. It listed several collapse zones about to be assessed, plus a risk sample for overseas old city renovation. I read through it line by line, opened my field assessment notes, and marked several similar structures. My left leg still ached, everything below the knee going numb in waves. I didn’t take painkillers. I scanned my notes into the computer and put them in the same folder as the electronic copy of the risk waiver. I renamed the folder: Materials Before Leaving. Near dawn, the rehabilitation room door at the other end of the hall opened. Mandy asked Xavier to watch the sunrise with her. I closed the computer. The document envelope was already in my bag.

Charlotte’s POV On the third day, the rain fell even harder. My leg started hurting early in the morning, and I couldn’t straighten my back. I’d planned to give Xavier the documents before he left for work, but Mandy was calling from the rehabilitation room early saying she was cold. Xavier didn’t go to the office and stayed in the room to keep her company at breakfast. I stood at the top of the stairs and watched him cool Mandy’s milk for her, then separate her pills one by one onto a tissue. That desk used to hold my rehabilitation records. Now it held Mandy’s aromatherapy diffuser, cups, and snack boxes. I didn’t go in. I put the envelope back in my bag and turned to go downstairs. The painkillers were in the living room table drawer, still several steps from the sofa. I held the stair railing and went down. When I reached the table, my left leg suddenly gave out. I braced myself against the sofa and bent down to pull the drawer, only to find it locked. The key used to be right on the table. Now it was gone. I looked up and called to Xavier. “Help me get the spare key.” Xavier leaned out from upstairs, his face full of impatience. “What now?” “The painkillers are in the drawer. My leg hurts badly.” In the rehabilitation room, Mandy coughed softly. Xavier glanced back, then turned around again. “Find it yourself. Mandy just took her medicine. Don’t disturb her.” I said. “The key is missing.” Xavier’s voice turned cold. “With so many people in this house, your medicine is the most troublesome.” I leaned against the table for a while, then went to the entrance cabinet to find the spare key myself. Halfway there, my left leg suddenly seized up. I crashed into the corner of the cabinet, my knee hitting the floor hard. A dull thud sounded in the entryway. Xavier finally came down from upstairs. His first glance went toward the rehabilitation room. “Did Mandy get scared?” Mandy stood at the doorway wearing a cardigan, saying. “I’m fine… Charlotte seems to have fallen.” Only then did Xavier see me kneeling on the floor. He walked over, frowning. “You can even fall looking for a key?” I said. “Leg cramp.” Xavier didn’t help me up. “Stop making yourself look like this, as if the whole family owes you.” I braced myself against the cabinet door and slowly stood up. My knee was scraped, a bit of blood seeping through my pant leg. I reached for the spare key. Xavier saw the blood and his expression shifted slightly. Mandy suddenly held onto the doorframe, her voice weakening. “Xavier, I heard that sound just now and thought of the old building that day. My heart is racing.” Xavier immediately went to help her. “Go back and sit down.”I got the keys and opened the drawer myself, taking out the painkillers. My hand wasn’t steady when pouring water. The pills dropped onto the floor. Xavier passed through the living room helping Mandy and saw me crouching on the floor picking up pills. He only said. “Don’t dirty the floor.” I picked up the pills into a tissue but didn’t take them. After the living room grew quiet again, I threw those pills in the trash. I didn’t treat the wound or look for new medicine. I returned to my room and took out the envelope I’d prepared long ago. The old building compensation division form was on top, the rehabilitation room usage confirmation and personal property transfer list pressed in the middle, and the family risk waiver tucked in the back half of the stack. I rechecked each signature line, then placed the page showing Mandy could receive compensation in the most prominent position. Upstairs, Xavier was coaxing Mandy. “I won’t let you hear that kind of noise again.” I fastened the envelope and placed it by the door. When Xavier came downstairs, I would hand him this envelope of documents. I could leave him soon.

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Two hours before the wedding ceremony, I watched my fiancé pin another woman down on the bed and kiss her. That woman was wearing my wedding dress. Three years ago, my ex-fiancé fled on our wedding day. It was Grayson Jones who charged into the banquet hall and took me away. He said he would never let me stand alone at a wedding again. I waited three years for this public ceremony. But just as I was about to deliver the vow card to him, I heard Sylvia Sterling’s voice through the crack in the door. “Do I look like today’s bride?” Grayson’s phone was lit up. He was sending me a message: I’m upstairs going over the program details. Don’t come up yet. He was kissing her while telling me to wait for him patiently. I stood outside the door and tore the vow card in my hands to shreds. This wedding. I’m not going through with it. Claire Carter POV Grayson and I got married three years ago, but today was finally my public wedding ceremony. Two hours before the ceremony began, I saw Grayson pin another woman down on the bed and kiss her. That woman was wearing my gown. This morning, the hotel’s top floor was filled with white roses. The sign outside the banquet hall was already set up, displaying both Grayson’s and my names. The makeup artist stood behind me, arranging the ends of my hair. My main wedding dress hung on the rack beside us. I’d tried it on seven times before finally choosing it. I sat before the mirror, looking at my reflection. The ring box rested beside my hand. Beneath it was a vow card I’d finished writing at two in the morning. I’d been waiting for this wedding for three years. Three years ago, Grayson and I decided to marry. But his family refused to hold a ceremony. They said my family had no power or influence, that a woman who’d been publicly rejected by her ex-fiancé didn’t deserve a grand wedding. Back then, Grayson had held my hand and said, “Claire, wait for me. Once we have the wedding, no one will ever be able to humiliate you again.” Last night, he’d sent me a message. “After tomorrow, you’ll be my wife. No one will ever be able to make you unhappy again.” I’d read that line over and over. I believed him. Three years ago, my ex-fiancé fled on our wedding day. All the guests laughed at me. Then Grayson charged into the banquet hall. He pulled me away from the cameras and the gossip. He’d said he would never let me stand alone at a wedding again. So today, I wanted to hand him the vow card personally. When the makeup artist went to get my earrings, I picked up the ring box and slipped out of the makeup room, avoiding my bridesmaids. Grayson’s groom lounge was on the same floor as the makeup room, just down the hallway from mine. When I reached the door, I heard a woman’s suppressed laughter inside. “Grayson, do I look good like this?” My steps stopped. The door wasn’t fully closed. There was a gap. Standing outside, I first saw a high heel lying on the floor, then saw the veil on the vanity table, and finally saw the wrinkled corner of the bedding. Sylvia was wearing my gown, the shoulder straps hanging loosely on her arms. That gown was one I’d personally selected. My initials were even embroidered on it. But now, Grayson stood behind Sylvia, lowering his head to adjust her shoulder straps upward. Sylvia tilted her face up to look at him. Her eyes were wet, as if she’d been crying, or as if she was seducing him. “Do I look like today’s bride?” Grayson didn’t answer. He simply lowered his head and kissed her. My hand gripping the ring box suddenly clenched tight. The corner of the box dug into my palm, the pain shooting numbness through my fingertips. My phone lit up at that moment. It was a message from Grayson. “I’m upstairs going over the program with the host. Don’t come up yet. Wait for me to come get you.” He was kissing Sylvia while telling me to wait obediently for him. Through the gap in the door, Sylvia seemed to hear something. Her eyes suddenly shifted toward the doorway. She saw me. But she didn’t hide. Instead, she smiled softly and reached out to touch the veil on the vanity table. The veil I was supposed to wear as I walked down the aisle. “Grayson, if she finds out, will she be angry?” Grayson’s voice dropped. “Don’t make trouble. Nothing can go wrong with the wedding today.” “What if she refuses to marry you?” Silence for a few seconds. Then I heard Grayson say, “She’s very sensible. All the guests have arrived. She won’t embarrass everyone.” That sentence felt like a hand pressing me back into that failed wedding from three years ago. I stared at the vow card in my hand. The first line read: Thank you for not leaving me standing alone at a wedding again. How pathetic. The sincerity I’d written with my own hand felt like it had been torn open and trampled on the ground. A staff member hurried up from downstairs. “Miss Carter, we still need to take your solo portraits. The coordinator is asking for you.” I didn’t push the door open. I didn’t charge inside. I didn’t ask Grayson why. I simply refolded the vow card, tucked it back at the very bottom of the ring box, then turned and walked back to the makeup room. The moment the makeup artist saw me, she smiled and said, “Miss Carter, you look wonderful. You’ll photograph beautifully.” I sat back down before the mirror. In the reflection, I wore a white wedding dress, my makeup clean, the diamond drop by my ear swaying slightly. Nothing about me had changed. Yet suddenly I felt like this wedding dress was something someone else had worn and discarded, making me feel dirty. The makeup artist picked up the veil, about to place it on my head. I raised my hand to stop her. My voice was soft. “Can we use a new one?”

Claire Carter POV When I asked to change the veil, everyone in the makeup room froze. That veil had been personally selected by Grayson. All the styling, all the photos, even the backdrop on the big screen had been designed around it. Changing it at the last minute wouldn’t just look bad. It would create unnecessary extra work. The makeup artist carefully tried to persuade me. “Miss Carter, Mr. Jones ordered this veil six months in advance. Today’s main dress can only be paired with this one.” I looked at that layer of white gauze. I thought of how Sylvia’s fingers had just slowly slid across its edge, touching it like a trophy. I felt sick. “I’m not wearing it.” The makeup artist didn’t dare try to convince me further and hurried to find the coordinator. As I adjusted my earring, I noticed a pearl hairpin missing from the jewelry tray on the vanity. That hairpin was supposed to match the veil. The day I’d tried on the dress, Grayson had personally placed it in my hair. He’d even said pearls suited me better than diamonds. Now the hairpin was gone. The coordinator rushed over, her expression even worse than the makeup artist’s. “Miss Carter, the backup veil and hairpin were sent upstairs earlier to test the effect. They haven’t been brought back yet.” I looked up at her. “Who was testing them?” The coordinator’s lips moved. “Mr. Jones’s side arranged it.” That told me nothing. A young assistant beside her blurted out, “That lady earlier looked really good in them. I thought we were doing two bridal looks today.” The makeup room instantly went dead silent. The coordinator’s face changed immediately as she turned to scold her. “What are you talking about!” The young assistant shrank back in fear. But I laughed. The laugh was light and faint. “Two brides?” The coordinator immediately tried to placate me. “No, no, it must be a misunderstanding, Miss Carter. I’ll have someone bring everything back right away.” I didn’t pursue it further. I just took the wedding program tablet. I’d only meant to check how many more procedures we had to go through. But the moment I opened the video materials, I saw a short clip from last night. In the video, Sylvia stood at the center of the ceremony platform, wearing my backup veil and holding my bouquet. Grayson stood below the platform, looking up at her. Sylvia smiled and asked, “If I hadn’t taken the fall for you back then, would I be the one standing here today?” Grayson didn’t deny it. He only said, “Come down quickly. Don’t let anyone see you.” Don’t let anyone see. After hearing that sentence, my fingertips grew colder bit by bit. So from last night, Sylvia had already been standing in my place. The platform, the bouquet, the veil. Even my room had been used by her. When Grayson came in, he happened to see the tablet in my hand. His steps clearly paused. I didn’t make a scene or throw anything. I just turned the screen toward him. In the video, Sylvia still wore the veil, smiling like a real bride. Grayson was silent for a few seconds before speaking, his voice deliberately low. “Sylvia was emotional last night. She just wanted to experience what a wedding felt like.” I looked up at him. “So my veil, my bouquet, my platform, my room. She can try them all?” Grayson’s brows furrowed. “Claire, she was rejected because of me years ago. People mocked her for years. Don’t use these words to provoke her today.” I looked at him, suddenly losing the energy to ask anything more. My wedding was being stolen. And Grayson was worried my words would upset Sylvia. He was always like this. Whenever Sylvia cried, he immediately made excuses for her. As for whether I was hurt, whether I felt wronged, whether I had to swallow things that had been stained. He never considered any of that. A light knock came from the doorway. Sylvia personally brought the backup veil back. She had the white gauze draped over her arm, her face full of apology, her eyes reddening the moment she entered. “Claire, I’m sorry. I just envied you too much and couldn’t resist trying it on. Don’t blame Grayson. It’s my fault.” She sounded so humble, as if I’d really bullied her. Before I could speak, she’d already turned to look at Grayson, tears falling. “I should just leave. Today is your wedding. I don’t want Claire to misunderstand us, and I don’t want to put you in a difficult position.” Grayson spoke up as expected. “Since you’re already here, stay for the ceremony.” Sylvia bit her lip and nodded. As she passed me, she turned her face slightly and said in a voice only the two of us could hear, “Claire, at least this morning, I was the one he held first.” The words were soft, but they pierced my heart like a knife. Outside, the wedding music had already started playing. My bridesmaids came in to urge me to change into the main dress. I looked at the returned backup veil but didn’t touch it. I picked up the pearl hairpin that had been returned with it. The hairpin still carried a perfume scent that wasn’t mine. I opened the drawer and threw the hairpin inside. Grayson stood at the door. Seeing I wasn’t making a fuss anymore, he visibly relaxed. He walked over and reached out to adjust my shoulder strap. “Claire, the ceremony is about to start. Don’t keep the guests waiting too long.” I looked at his hand in the mirror. That hand had been on Sylvia’s waist not long ago. I stepped back half a step to avoid him. Grayson’s hand froze in midair.

Claire Carter POV When Grayson’s mother, Helen, entered the makeup room, there wasn’t a trace of a smile on her face. She first glanced at me, then looked at Grayson, her voice deliberately low. “Everyone’s waiting for you outside. Why hasn’t the ceremony started yet?” The wedding coordinator’s forehead was covered in sweat. “Helen, the bride is still adjusting her veil.” Helen’s expression immediately darkened. “Stop wasting time on these trivial matters! The ceremony is about to start. All of the Jones family’s guests are here today. Claire, don’t keep everyone waiting!” I sat before the mirror, my shoulders still bare above the wedding dress. That gown had been worn by Sylvia. That veil had been touched by Sylvia. The pearl hairpin still carried her perfume. And Helen said I was the one wasting everyone’s time. I looked up at Grayson. Grayson didn’t speak up for me. He only said to Helen, “Mom, please go outside. I’ll handle this.” The door closed again. Only the two of us remained in the room. Grayson stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Claire, there can’t be any problems today. I’ll explain what happened this morning after the wedding ends.” I looked at him. “You want me to put on the dress and go out there smiling, even though I know what happened in that room?” Grayson’s brow furrowed tightly. “You’re already my wife. There’s no need to fight with Sylvia over these small things.” Wife. That word coming from his mouth felt like a dull blade slowly pressing against my heart. Three years ago, when my ex-fiancé left me standing at the wedding, everyone told me to just endure it. It was Grayson who took me away. He’d said, why should an innocent person bear the consequences of someone else’s mistake? Now he was the one pushing me back into that position. I opened the ring box and took out the vow card, holding it in front of him. “Read the first line.” Grayson glanced at me, then took the card. When he opened it and saw that line, his throat seemed to catch on something. I asked, “Can you still read it out loud now?” Grayson closed the card, avoiding my eyes. “Now isn’t the time to talk about this.” I took the vow card back from his hand. I tore the paper down the middle. The sound was soft, but it made Grayson’s face change color. I didn’t hit him. I didn’t cry. I simply pressed the torn card back to the bottom of the ring box, then handed the box to my bridesmaid. “Hold onto this. Don’t give it to the host.” The bridesmaid froze, instinctively looking at Grayson. I repeated, “Don’t give it to the host.” Outside, the host had begun speaking. Applause filtered through the door. The makeup artist placed the new veil on my head. This time, the veil hadn’t been touched by anyone else. But looking at myself in the mirror, I still felt like this wedding dress was suffocating me. Grayson stood behind me. Seeing I was finally cooperating, he visibly sighed with relief. He probably thought I would still endure it. He thought that, just like the past three years, I would swallow all my grievances for him, for the Jones family, for the perfect completion of the ceremony. When the banquet hall doors opened, the lights fell on me. The guests turned to look. Applause erupted instantly. Grayson stood at the end of the red carpet in his tidy suit, looking like a groom truly waiting for his bride. I walked forward step by step. My gaze moved past Grayson to the front row. Sylvia sat there. She’d changed into a different dress. The missing pearl hairpin was now pinned to her chest. That was my hairpin. Sylvia looked up and smiled at me, her fingers lightly touching the hairpin, as if reminding me. Even something this small, she could take. I reached Grayson. The host smiled and said, “The groom has finally waited for his bride.” Applause erupted again. Grayson extended his hand toward me. That hand had touched Sylvia’s waist this morning. Now it reached toward me, wanting me to continue performing in this wedding. I looked down at it for a moment but didn’t place my hand in his. I looked up at Grayson, my voice not loud but clear enough for the nearest rows to hear. “Are you sure the person you’ve been waiting for today is me?”

Claire Carter POV The host’s smile froze on her face. The applause on both sides of the red carpet gradually stopped. In the guest seating, it became so quiet only the music remained. Grayson’s extended hand hung in midair. His expression changed as he said in a suppressed voice, “Claire, don’t make a scene right now.” I didn’t look at anyone else. “I just need one answer from you. Is the person you’ve been waiting for today me?” Grayson’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He didn’t answer. He only said, “The ceremony has already begun. Let’s complete it first.” That phrase again. Complete the ceremony first, let the guests watch us perform first, let me continue being the sensible bride first. Helen walked over from the side, still smiling on her face but her voice cold and hard. “Claire, if you have something to say, say it at home. So many guests are here today. Don’t make everyone uncomfortable.” I looked at her. “Another woman was in my room, and I’m still supposed to smile through this ceremony?” Helen’s smile stiffened for a moment. Quickly, she lowered her voice again. “A truly sensible bride doesn’t put her husband on trial at their wedding.” Murmurs were already rising from the guest seating. “What’s going on?” “Does the bride not want to marry the groom?” “I think there’s something wrong with that woman in the front row.” Those voices drilled into my ears. The failed wedding three years ago had been just like this. No one asked if I was hurt. They only wanted to see if I would cry, if I would lose control, if I would become an even bigger joke. Grayson suddenly grabbed my wrist, trying to place my hand in the crook of his arm. His movement looked gentle, but the force was strong. It hurt so much I frowned, yet still I didn’t cooperate. Grayson said in a low voice, “After the wedding ends, you can ask me whatever you want. Not now.” I looked at him. “After the wedding ends, am I supposed to thank you for being willing to explain?” Grayson’s expression darkened, and he gripped my wrist even tighter. At that moment, a harsh scraping of a chair came from the front row. Sylvia stood up supporting herself on the chair back, her face very pale. The pearl hairpin on her chest swayed. She looked at Grayson, her voice trembling. “Grayson, I didn’t mean to sit here. I didn’t mean to make Claire misunderstand. If I’m causing problems for your wedding, I’ll leave right now.” After speaking, her body swayed as if she might collapse at any moment. Grayson barely hesitated. He released me and walked straight toward Sylvia. The force controlling me disappeared. My wrist hurt badly, but Grayson had already reached Sylvia’s side. “Where does it hurt?” His voice was urgent. Much more urgent than when he’d been coaxing me to complete the wedding. The entire venue fell completely silent. The lights still fell on me. But the groom was no longer by my side. Helen’s face looked terrible, but her first reaction was to have the host pause and have staff turn off the big screen. Someone said quietly, “Who the groom really loves is pretty obvious, isn’t it?” I stood in place. The veil on my head suddenly felt as heavy as a shroud. The host tried to salvage the awkward situation. “This guest isn’t feeling well. The groom is just helping to look after her.” Guest. I looked at the hairpin on Sylvia’s chest. A guest who had worn my gown, touched my veil, was wearing my hairpin, and could make Grayson publicly leave me at my own wedding. I raised my hand and slowly removed the veil. Grayson looked back and saw my movement. His expression immediately changed. “Claire, don’t!” I ignored him. I handed the veil to my bridesmaid, my voice calm. “I’m a bit tired. I’m going back to my room to rest.” The bridesmaid’s eyes were red with anxiety. “Miss Carter…” I’d already turned around. I didn’t make a scene. I didn’t rush over to hit Sylvia. I simply walked step by step away from the wedding venue. Behind me, Grayson was supporting Sylvia. I knew he wanted to chase after me. But then I heard Sylvia say, “Grayson, I’m so dizzy… Don’t leave me.”

Claire Carter POV I returned backstage, closed the door, and finally shut out the lights from the banquet hall and all those mocking eyes. I didn’t cry. I just placed the veil on the vanity. The backstage screen was still connected to the wedding video system. The image was frozen on the moment when the ceremony had paused. I stood alone under the lights. Grayson was in the front row supporting Sylvia. The image was sickening. I watched it for a few seconds, then reached out and unplugged the connection cable. The screen went black. But at that moment, the door was pushed open. Sylvia walked in. The weakness from earlier had vanished from her face. The pearl hairpin was still pinned to her chest. She glanced at the darkened screen and laughed softly. “Unplugging the cable won’t help. Everyone already saw it.” I didn’t turn around. “Get out.” Sylvia walked to the vanity, her fingers trailing across the veil before touching the ring box beside it. “Claire, what’s the point of guarding these things? Can you stop Grayson from giving them to whoever he wants?” I pressed my hand down on the ring box. “Don’t touch it.” Sylvia’s eyes immediately reddened, and her voice rose slightly. “I was just trying to help you take the rings out so the wedding could continue. Why are you so nervous? Are you afraid the wedding can’t go on?” As she spoke, she suddenly grabbed my wrist and reached for the ring box with her other hand. She gripped hard, hurting me. I shook her hand off. Sylvia seemed to have been waiting for this exact moment. She stumbled backward and knocked into the video equipment rack beside her. The rack fell, the screen crashed to the floor with a sharp sound. Sylvia clutched her arm, tears flowing immediately. “Claire, even if you’re angry, you can’t push me… The wedding video is ruined. What is Grayson supposed to do?” Footsteps rushed in from outside. Grayson and Helen arrived almost simultaneously. Grayson saw Sylvia clutching her arm with the shattered screen at her feet. His expression immediately darkened. Sylvia was crying so hard she could barely stand. “I just wanted to take the ring box out to let the wedding continue. Claire refused, and she pushed me…” I looked at Grayson. “She grabbed for the ring box. She knocked the equipment over herself.” Grayson didn’t ask me why Sylvia had been touching the ring box, nor did he ask why the equipment rack had fallen. He only stared at me, his voice frighteningly cold. “Are you determined to ruin today?” I was stung by that sentence into laughing. “Who exactly ruined today?” Grayson clenched his teeth. “Stop saying such ugly things.” I looked at him and asked coldly, “Am I supposed to put the dress back on, take the ring she tried to steal, go outside and smile at the guests. Is that what counts as being sensible?” Grayson didn’t respond. Helen was already trembling with anger. “Claire, have you lost your mind? After what you just did out there, you’re going to hurt people backstage too?” Sylvia cried even harder. “Grayson, I should just leave. I really don’t want to make things difficult for you…” Grayson seemed crushed by that sentence. The next second, he raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. The slap was heavy. My face jerked to the side. My ear rang. Soon I tasted blood at the corner of my mouth. Backstage fell silent. Grayson froze after the slap as well. His hand remained suspended in midair. His first words weren’t an apology. “Calm down.” I slowly raised my head. I saw the panic in his eyes, and also saw the anger. Three years ago, when I was left standing at the wedding, Grayson had shielded me from the cameras, saying no one had the right to see me in that state. Now my humiliation had been delivered by his own hand. I didn’t cry. I raised my hand to wipe the blood from the corner of my mouth and closed the ring box. Grayson’s voice finally dropped. “I didn’t mean to. Too much is happening today. Don’t push me.” I looked at him. “Are you going to wait until after the wedding to explain this slap too?” Grayson’s face went pale. I handed the ring box to my bridesmaid. “Keep this safe for me.” Then I turned and went into the backstage restroom. The moment the door closed, I slowly slid down to sit on the floor, my back against the door. Outside, people were still calling my name. I pressed my hand against the side of my face where I’d been hit. My fingertips wouldn’t stop shaking.

Claire Carter POV I stayed in the restroom for a long time. The people knocking on the door were first the bridesmaids, then the makeup artist, and finally Grayson. His voice came through the door, much lower than before. “Claire, come out first. We can cover the injury on your face with makeup, and we can simplify the ceremony. The guests have already been settled.” Hearing these words, I suddenly found it laughable. He didn’t ask if I was in pain. He didn’t say the slap was wrong. He was only considering whether this wedding could still continue. I opened the door. Grayson saw my swollen cheek, and something flickered in his eyes. He reached out to touch me. I turned my head away. His hand stopped in midair. “I was too rushed earlier. Sylvia injured her arm, and Mom kept pushing me. I lost control for a moment.” I asked him, “So if I say I lost control, can I hit you now?” Grayson’s expression darkened. “Don’t let this spiral out of control.” Helen had someone bring ice packs and concealer, her tone like she was dealing with a soiled wedding dress. “No one outside knows what happened backstage. Go out and interact with the guests, then complete the ceremony.” I looked at her. “As long as the guests can’t see the injury, we can pretend it never happened?” Helen sneered coldly. “Since you’ve already married Grayson, you should know when to endure.” Grayson stood beside her and didn’t contradict her. Watching his silence, the last of my resolve crumbled. The wedding program was changed. The host told everyone I wasn’t feeling well, so the program would be simplified. Staff quickly removed the vow platform. The big screen that was supposed to display our handwritten vows was replaced with a generic congratulations image. I stood backstage, watching that screen go dark. After a while, Sylvia came again. Her arm was wrapped in gauze, her face pale, yet she still had to stand next to Grayson. “I should really leave. Claire isn’t in a good mood today. If she gets angry again in a bit, everyone will be uncomfortable.” After hearing this, Grayson turned to look at me. “Don’t say anything you shouldn’t during the ceremony.” I didn’t agree. I picked up my bag. “This wedding ends here.” Grayson’s expression changed drastically. He reached out and grabbed my wrist. I already had an injury there. When he pressed on the wound, the pain shot numbness through my fingertips. “All the guests are outside. You can’t leave now.” I couldn’t break free. I could only look up at him. “I’m not your toy, and I’m not this wedding’s toy either.” That sentence completely provoked Grayson. He dragged me toward the banquet hall. My knees were already weak, and the wedding dress train was so long. I stumbled and fell. My knee hit the ground first. The edge of a step scraped my calf open. Blood quickly seeped through the gauze skirt. All the staff around us paled. My vision went black. I braced my hands on the floor, unable to stand for a long time. Grayson also froze, instinctively bending down to help me up. But at that moment, Sylvia called out softly, “Grayson, my arm hurts so much…” Grayson’s movement paused. He looked back at her first. His action made me completely lose hope. I supported myself on the steps and stood up on my own, not accepting his belated hand. The white wedding dress dragged across the floor, stained with blood. I pulled the train down from the steps, my voice very soft. “The wedding has nothing to do with me anymore.” I turned and walked outside. Grayson tried to follow, but Helen stopped him. “The guests are still outside, and Sylvia is injured too. She’s emotionally unstable right now. Let her cool down.” Grayson stood in place and ultimately didn’t chase after me. He only told an assistant, “Follow her. Don’t let anything happen to her.” I reached the end of the hallway and heard that sentence. I paused. Even now, he still thought I was the one who would cause trouble. I turned my head and saw a videographer walking by with his gear. I spoke directly. “The wedding video backup. Give me a copy.” The videographer froze. I raised my still-swollen face. “Now.” Half an hour later, I sat in a car outside the hotel. My knee hurt so badly I was trembling. My face hurt too. The lawyer on the other end of the phone said the divorce agreement could be drafted tonight, and the joint account Grayson and I shared could be processed simultaneously. I looked at the wedding sign outside the car window. The sign still displayed both Grayson’s and my names. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, my voice was steady. “Take me to the villa.” After hanging up the call, I opened Grayson’s chat. I archived it. I changed his name from “My Love” back to just Grayson Jones.

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I transmigrated into the body of a little girl who was beaten to death by domestic violence. The moment I opened my eyes, a fist came flying at me. I smiled. I am a female Muay Thai champion, a terminator of domestic violence, specialized in dealing with all kinds of troublemakers! I transmigrated just as I had won my sixth world championship. With this, I had achieved the Grand Slam in Muay Thai. I couldn’t help but shed tears of joy. Right at that moment, a piercing pain shot through my right leg—in the final round of the match, my opponent’s fierce roundhouse kick had struck my shin. I smiled bitterly. The bone was probably fractured. Injuries were nothing new to me. I endured the pain and still faced the reporters’ cameras with a smile. ” Lily Smith, please tell us how you’re feeling right now,” a reporter asked. I steadied myself and said, “I want to thank my coach for all his hard work in training me.” “What about your family? Don’t you want to say anything to them?” the reporter pressed. Family…? I froze for a moment. My mind went blank. I suddenly realized I had no memory of my family at all. Then a flash of white light appeared, like a camera flash going off. I instinctively closed my eyes for a split second. When I opened them again, I found myself in a dark, dilapidated little room. The flowers, applause, and surrounding reporters had all vanished. Only the pain in my right leg remained, reminding me this was no dream. I looked down. These were the legs of a little girl. Slender and frail. The right leg was twisted at an odd angle. The slightest movement brought another wave of pain. The shin was broken, but someone had given it a crude bandage. Whoever had treated the injured leg was clearly an amateur. They hadn’t even set the bone properly. I unwrapped the bandage, reset the bone, and rewrapped it. Since I was often injured, I naturally had some knowledge of treating external wounds. “Lily, are you awake?” Just then, a woman’s voice quietly called into the room from outside the window.

I had just finished setting my injured leg and didn’t want to move, so I answered weakly, “Just woke up.” The woman hurriedly said, “You must be hungry. I brought you some food. Eat quickly.” The door opened, and a thin, frail woman entered carrying some cornbread and wild fruit. It seemed this woman was the little girl’s mother. She extended the food toward me and said, “Lily, does your leg still hurt? Eat quickly. You need to eat well to recover from your injury.” Suddenly, a shrill voice rang out from outside: “Lily’s mom! I told you to feed the chickens, where did you go? Always slacking off! Even the chickens are more useful than you! At least they lay eggs—you don’t!” Lily’s mother quickly responded, “Mom, I already fed the chickens. I came to bring Lily her meal.” The shrill voice grew closer: “My son must have had terrible luck to marry you! A money-loser gave birth to another money-loser, eating the Smith family’s food for nothing all these years!” This sounded like the little girl’s grandmother. The grandmother’s words were full of disgust toward the mother and daughter. Their lives must be difficult. Lily’s mother looked at my injured leg. After much hesitation, she finally gathered the courage to say, “Mom, Lily’s leg was broken. We need to get the village doctor to look at it.” Mrs. Smith outside the window nearly shrieked when she heard this: “A doctor costs money! If you ask me, if she dies, she dies! One less mouth to feed!” I frowned. This little girl must have been beaten, which is why her leg was broken. Why was the little girl beaten, and who beat her? The most important thing now was to figure out what exactly happened. I heard Mrs. Smith continue: “Stop talking nonsense and come help me right now. The matchmaker is coming today!” Lily’s mother quickly set down the food and went out.

I don’t know how much time passed before I heard arguing outside the door. “Lily’s father, you can’t keep beating her! You’ll kill the child.” This was Lily’s mother’s voice. An angry man’s voice: “Don’t try to stop me. She was lucky I didn’t kill her yesterday.” “She wants to go to town so badly? Today I’ll break her other leg too! If she’s so capable, let her crawl there!” The two people arguing outside were clearly the little girl’s parents. I hadn’t expected that the person who broke the little girl’s leg was actually her father. Anger rose in my heart. This father, taking advantage of being an adult man, actually beat an underage little girl this way. The door burst open with a bang. A man appeared in the doorway. He was of medium build, holding a wooden stick, his face full of violence. Behind the man stood Lily’s mother. Her thin wrists tightly gripped one end of the stick in the man’s hand, trying to stop him. The man slapped her face. A crisp smack rang out, and Lily’s mother stumbled, nearly falling. Even so, her hands still desperately gripped the stick, refusing to let go. Because Lily’s mother was holding the stick, the man couldn’t move freely. Seeing that one slap hadn’t made Lily’s mother let go, he grew impatient and kicked her in the stomach. Alarmed, I quickly grabbed the cornbread bun beside me and threw it at his head and face. The bun was quite hard. It hit the man’s face with a dull thud and broke apart, falling to the ground. Cornmeal crumbs got in his eyes. He reached up to rub his eyes, and Lily’s mother snatched the stick away. “You damn girl, how dare you throw things at me! I see you still haven’t given up on going to town to study!” The man no longer paid attention to Lily’s mother. He roared and charged at me. Lily’s mother quickly abandoned the stick and wrapped her arms around the man’s waist, pulling him back while crying out: “Lily, quickly apologize to your father! Say you won’t go to school anymore!” I suddenly understood. This little girl, Lily—she wanted to go to town to study, but her father wouldn’t let her, so she was beaten.

Before I could speak, an old woman picked up the stick from the ground and quickly threw it into the yard. This old woman had entered the room behind the arguing parents. Because she was short, I hadn’t noticed her at first. After throwing the stick, she even kicked it. The stick rolled far away. With her sharp, slanted eyes, she said to the man in a shrill voice: ” John, the matchmaker just came by. A girl with a crippled leg won’t fetch a high wedding gift!” The man froze when he heard this and stopped. He asked the old woman, “Mom, Matchmaker Mrs. Brown came by?” So this harsh-looking old woman was the little girl’s grandmother. Mrs. Smith nodded and said, “A wedding gift for a girl with one crippled leg has to be cut in half. If you break both her legs, she’ll be paralyzed, and the wedding gift will drop even more.” John Smith said angrily, “Why cut it in half? Is that Mrs. Brown trying to cheat us? Her leg is crippled, but she can still walk and work!” As he said this, John Smith withdrew his hand. Seeing he wasn’t going to hit me anymore, Lily’s mother slowly let go. I suddenly understood this little girl’s situation. So I coldly interjected: “My leg isn’t permanently crippled. It can heal. Three months—just three months and my leg will be good as new. Then you can ask Mrs. Brown for the highest wedding gift!” Mrs. Smith’s eyes lit up: “Lily’s leg can heal? If it heals completely, we’ll have a perfectly intact virgin girl! Mrs. Brown won’t be able to lowball us then!” John Smith sneered. He understood he couldn’t beat me. If my leg didn’t heal properly, it would affect the wedding gift he could collect. But he seemed unwilling to just let this go. He turned and saw Lily’s mother standing to the side. He directly slapped her again, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her out of the room.

I saw this and struggled to get up to stop him, but Mrs. Smith pressed me down, saying, “Lily, lie still and don’t move. Take good care of your leg!” She pursed her lips and said, “That’s between your father and mother. Stay out of it.” I moved my right leg slightly. Based on my experience, this leg injury could indeed heal in three months. After three months when my leg healed, I needed to get out of here quickly. While secretly making this resolution, I also worried about Lily’s mother and pricked up my ears to carefully listen to what was happening outside. I heard John Smith drag Lily’s mother all the way to the next room. The door slammed shut with a bang. Sounds of punching and kicking came from next door, occasionally mixed with Lily’s mother’s cries and screams. Then came the sound of clothes tearing and a belt whipping. When John Smith’s heavy breathing gradually intensified and Lily’s mother’s screams turned into soft whimpers, Mrs. Smith clicked her tongue twice, spat, and left with a red face. I gradually clenched my fists. John Smith not only committed domestic violence, he was also a sexual abuser! Over the following days, John Smith would beat Lily’s mother every few days. And no matter how brutally Lily’s mother had been tortured the night before, she would unfailingly come bring me food the next day. I begged her to get me some protein to help with my recovery, and she brought me some roasted bird eggs. I asked, “Doesn’t the family raise chickens? Why do we need to get wild bird eggs?” Lily’s mother sighed: “Your grandmother counts every chicken egg. She saves them to sell at the market.” This Mrs. Smith was really cruel and stingy. Lily’s mother watched me happily eating the roasted bird eggs and said, “Thank goodness for Tommy, bringing you bird eggs. Next month Tommy is going to town, so you won’t have these good things to eat anymore.” After saying this, she seemed to have misspoken and looked regretful. “Tommy?” I asked. Lily’s mother quickly comforted me: “I know you also want to go to town with Tommy to study middle school. But which girl in our village doesn’t stop studying after elementary school? Look at Emily—she also stayed home to work after elementary school graduation.” By this calculation, Lily had only graduated from elementary school, probably around 13 or 14 years old. At this age, her father and grandmother were already planning to marry her off. What bastards!

This day, Lily’s mother didn’t come to bring food. Instead, a little boy and a little girl came. The little boy looked sturdy and energetic, wearing a hoodie and sneakers, covered in dirt from head to toe. He held a bundle of bird eggs and said proudly, “Lily, I raided three bird nests! Look, there are over a dozen eggs here!” The little girl wore a floral print jacket with patches on the knees and shoes. Though not dressed as well as the little boy, she was neat and tidy. She blinked her eyes and said, “Lily, your mother said she went to cut pig feed, so she asked us to bring you food.” As she spoke, she took out two cornbread and handed them to me. “Tommy? Emily?” I called out tentatively. Emily nodded. Tommy said, “What’s wrong? Did your dad beat your head stupid?” He stood up to examine my head. “You’ve always been better at studying than me. It would be such a waste if your dad beat you into an idiot!” As he spoke, he ruffled through my hair. “Bah! Bah!” Emily pushed him away and scolded him: “Don’t talk nonsense! How could Lily become an idiot!” Tommy asked me, “Lily, are you really not going to town to study middle school?” “I heard the teacher say that middle school, just like elementary school, is required by law. Not letting you attend is illegal,” he said confidently. Emily sighed: “But all the girls in our village only go to elementary school.” Tommy fell silent. After a while, he asked me again: “Lily, don’t you want to ask your dad again? You’re good at stud Emily. It would be a shame not to go to school.” I shook my head. I didn’t need to ask to know that no matter how good my grades were, John Smith would never agree. I ate five or six of the bird eggs Tommy brought and hid the rest to give to Lily’s mother. In a daze, I heard a woman crying out. It was Lily’s mother!

I quickly listened carefully to identify the sounds. Mixed in with Lily’s mother’s cries and pleas for mercy were a man’s curses and beatings. It was John Smith. Occasionally there were also a few sounds from Mrs. Smith. Her voice was thin and shrill, actually the clearest to hear: “You should teach this lazy daughter-in-law a good lesson! At my age, I still have to go up the mountain to cut pig feed! These old bones of mine nearly fell apart!” Hadn’t Lily’s mother gone to cut pig feed today? It was because she went to cut pig feed that she asked Emily and Tommy to bring me food. This old hag was distorting the truth and sowing discord! John Smith seemed even angrier. While cursing, he continued beating Lily’s mother: “You dare lie? It was clearly Mom who cut the pig feed!” “You shameless woman needs to be stripped naked, hung up, and whipped hard with a belt!” Rage surged within me, and I was about to rush out to save Lily’s mother. As soon as I moved, I nearly fell from the bed to the floor. The leg injury had been healing for almost two months. Although the injury was recovering well, the leg muscles were weak and I still couldn’t move flexibly. This body was far inferior to my previous one. I sighed and secretly resolved that starting tomorrow, I must exercise my muscles properly. Otherwise, even if the leg healed, without muscles and strength, it would be useless. Lily’s mother’s voice gradually grew quieter. She must have passed out. Finally John Smith stopped. But his conversation with his mother made my heart rise to my throat again. I heard him say to Mrs. Smith: “Mom, if you don’t like this woman, we can just send her back to her parents’ home. Why do we have to beat her to death?” Mrs. Smith said, “You foolish child, if we send her back to her parents’ home, what if her brothers come demanding the dowry back! She brought a cow as dowry when she married in!” So Mrs. Smith and her son were planning to beat Lily’s mother to death. I looked down at my right leg, my face turning cold.

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My mom and dad, who revolved around my sister Barbara every single day, had no idea that I had another family—inside the mirror. When the three of them went on a trip for three days, they finally remembered they had me. But when Mom and Dad rushed home in a panic, they found me cleaned up and well-fed, looking healthy and plump. The guilt and alarm on Mom’s face gave way to sheer disbelief. “Somerville, have you been taking care of yourself these past few days?” I shook my head. “I’ve been staying inside the mirror these past few days. There’s a mom and dad in there who took care of me.” A flash of disbelief crossed their eyes, followed by thunderous rage: “You know Barbara has autism, and you’re lying just to compete with her for our attention?” All the exhaustion and suppression my parents had accumulated over the years poured out on me in that moment. I was locked in my room, and Mom warned me viciously through the door. “We’re already exhausted taking care of Barbara. This family can’t afford to raise two autistic children. If you lie again, you won’t be staying in this house anymore!” I curled up in the corner, crying so hard I couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, a withered hand reached out from the mirror, gently stroking my head. “If they abandon you one more time, I’ll take you away.”

The moment the door was pushed open, the mom in the mirror crawled backward into the mirror. Mom stood quietly at the doorway, looking at me. “We’re having guests over later. Come out and help.” I followed closely behind Mom, taking the plastic plate from her hands. My eyes couldn’t help but land on the large cake in the center of the table. “Don’t just stand there. Hurry up and divide the cake.” Halfway through dividing the cake, I suddenly remembered—today was my birthday. So Mom and Dad still remembered my birthday after all. My nose tingled, and I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. I suddenly remembered that before Barbara got sick, Mom and Dad had been really good to me. When they took Barbara shopping at the mall, they would always bring me new clothes, instead of making me wear Barbara’s hand-me-downs that never fit properly. If I went away with the mom and dad in the mirror, would they be sad? The next moment, Mom clasped her hands together, her voice full of happiness, shattering my fantasy. “Barbara can finally call us Mom and Dad. Today is a day worth celebrating.” “When our relatives and friends arrive later, Barbara might even speak a few more words to other people.” I stood frozen in place, the corners of my mouth slowly drooping. The doorbell rang, and relatives flooded in. Barbara was surrounded in the center like a star. “Barbara, I heard you can speak now. I’m Uncle Dexter.” “I’m Aunt Bella. This is a gift for you.” Under everyone’s excited gaze, Barbara pressed her lips together, nervously clutching the hem of her dress, refusing to speak. Seeing the relatives’ enthusiasm waning, Dad quickly shot me a look, signaling me to help Barbara out of this situation. I squeezed into the middle of the relatives, sweetly greeting them one by one. “Let me serve you some cake.” While eating the cake, the relatives smiled and praised me: “Somerville has such a sweet mouth—so likable.” “If I had a daughter as articulate as Somerville, I’d laugh in my sleep.” Only Aunt Colleen had an indifferent expression, deliberately raising her voice. “Articulate? I think she’s clearly just competing for attention.” “She’s five or six years old. When my son was her age, he could recite Shakespeare’s poems backward. What’s so impressive about knowing how to greet people?” “She’s just showing off in front of someone with autism.” Mom’s expression darkened as well. She scolded me sternly, “Somerville! You always have the most to say. Barbara finally spoke, and you still have to steal the spotlight.” Dad’s smile faded as he shot me a cold glance. “Put away those petty thoughts of yours. Stop trying to get attention this way.” Seeing me keep my head down in silence, Dexter asked with a half-smile: “Somerville, tell me—who taught you to compete for attention at such a young age?”

I pursed my lips, my eyes reddening as I instinctively looked toward Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad’s eyes flickered for a moment, as if they’d just remembered what they’d demanded of me. Ever since Barbara’s autism got worse, Mom and Dad had been forcing me to talk more in front of Barbara every single day. Each time, I’d talk until my voice went hoarse, but Barbara would still show no response. Mom would sob, clutching her chest, venting all her frustration on me. “Talk more in front of Barbara! Talk! Hurry up and talk!” “What’s the point of having a mouth if you don’t use it? Mouths are for talking, aren’t they?” “But you? You don’t think about Barbara at all. All you do is make her angry.” But Barbara’s “kindness” to me was secretly stuffing candy in my mouth when she knew I couldn’t eat sugar. I was only three back then. All my teeth rotted, and the pain kept me awake every night. In the end, not only were all my baby teeth pulled out, but I also got scolded by Mom and Dad. Dad would often say to me sternly, “Somerville, the therapist said someone in the family needs to guide Barbara to speak and give her positive feedback.” “You have both the responsibility and the obligation to help Barbara and set a good example for her.” But I’ve already been trying so hard to guide Barbara. Why are Mom and Dad still not satisfied? Just as I faced the relatives’ interrogation, clutching my hands and not knowing how to answer, Dad handed me a plate of strawberries. “Go eat your strawberries somewhere else. Talk less.” I took the strawberries, but Barbara suddenly snatched them away, raised her hand and smashed them on the floor, then opened her mouth to let out a piercing scream. Mom and Dad’s faces went pale. Barbara’s autism was acting up again. Mom, with reddened eyes, poked my forehead with her finger and scolded: “Somerville, why are you so greedy? Barbara hasn’t eaten yet—why are you eating first?” “You know Barbara lacks a sense of security. Everything in this house should prioritize Barbara. Barbara comes first.” Looking down at the smashed strawberries on the floor, a bitter taste rose in my throat. I squatted down and picked up the strawberries from the floor one by one, placing them on the plate, my lips mumbling, “I know I was wrong. I don’t want the strawberries anymore.” “I’ll let Barbara have all the strawberries.” Seeing how obedient I was, Uncle Torres frowned curiously and asked, “Why has Somerville become so well-behaved? I remember when you were three, you were so protective of your food. Once something was in your hands, no one could take it away.” Hearing Torres’s words of concern, a warmth rose in my heart, and my inner thoughts spilled out without defense: “Because the mom in the mirror already gave me strawberries to eat…” Meeting Mom and Dad’s icy stares, I realized I’d said the wrong thing. I quickly covered my mouth with my small hands and shook my head, indicating I hadn’t said anything. Colleen didn’t believe I’d really become obedient. A cold smile curved her lips. “Somerville sure knows how to act!” “Deliberately pretending to be pitiful to gain sympathy, and even lying about having a mom in the mirror. Why don’t you just say you’re going to live in the mirror?” Hearing Colleen’s words, I froze. How did Colleen know that the mom in the mirror wanted to take me away? Mom caught the panic in my eyes and trembled with anger. “Somerville, didn’t I teach you not to lie? Why are you spouting nonsense today?” “Hurry up and tell everyone that the mom in the mirror is something you made up. It’s a lie.” I instinctively glanced at the mirror in my room. The mom in the mirror poked her head out, staring at me with hollow eyes, her mouth curving into an eerie arc. I timidly raised my head and stammered, “Mom, I’m not lying, and I’m not making things up…” There really was another mom in the mirror. But under Mom’s stern, pressuring gaze, I swallowed the rest of my words. Torres, who had grown up in a church, took my words seriously. He frowned and said to Mom: “I don’t think Somerville is lying. Maybe there really is something wrong with that mirror. How about I help you check the house?” After Torres took out his religious artifacts from his bag, Mom’s expression grew increasingly tense. Just as Torres was about to ask me some questions about the mirror, Barbara’s scream interrupted him.

Barbara picked up a shard of broken porcelain from the floor and slashed it across her wrist. Mom instantly panicked, hugging Barbara in distress and stopping her from continuing to harm herself. Dad looked at me with anguish, his eyes ice-cold. “Did you deliberately lie about having parents in the mirror to make Barbara feel guilty enough to cut her wrist?” “We’ve been so good to you. How can you be so vicious and come up with such twisted ideas?” I shook my head violently, tears blurring my vision. “Dad, I’m not lying…” But Dad wouldn’t listen to my explanation. He said goodbye to the relatives and drove Barbara to the hospital. After the relatives left, I was the only one standing there in a daze. I’d already tried my best. Why wouldn’t Mom and Dad believe me? Barbara’s wrist wound wasn’t deep, so there was nothing serious. But Mom and Dad still took turns staying by her side, afraid something else might happen to her. I could only see them when they came home to cook for Barbara. But whenever I got close, Mom and Dad would unconsciously push me away, distancing themselves from me. “Somerville, stop hovering around us.” “You’ve already driven Barbara to cut her wrist. Do you have to see Barbara die before you’re satisfied?” I shook my head, looking completely wronged. “Mom, I don’t know why Barbara cut her wrist either, but I really didn’t want to see Barbara die.” Even when Barbara had emotional breakdowns and scalded me with hot water from her cup, or cut my bangs with scissors, I never resented her. After all, Barbara got sick because of me. If I, the second child, didn’t exist, Barbara wouldn’t have gotten sick. And Mom and Dad wouldn’t have to frown all day long. But hearing Mom say these things still made my heart ache. Two days later, Barbara was discharged and came home. After coming home, Barbara was much more active than before. Besides calling out “Mom” and “Dad,” she could also speak some simple sentences. According to Mom, it was when she cried like a mess that Barbara felt sorry for her and started speaking. But I’d been trying to guide Barbara to speak for years, and she never responded. Why did Barbara start talking as soon as Mom cried? Holding the doll the mom in the mirror had given me, I quietly pushed open Barbara’s door. But I saw Mom and Dad sitting at Barbara’s bedside, gently coaxing her: “Barbara, from now on, just rest and recover at home. No matter how much Somerville tries to compete with you for our attention, Mom will only love you.” “Dad feels the same way. That’s why we’ve been deliberately ignoring Somerville these past few days to teach her a lesson.” Barbara’s eyes reddened as she slowly spoke, “Don’t… blame Somerville. She’s still young.” “If only I didn’t exist…” Hearing Barbara say this made Mom and Dad both angry and distressed. Dad put his arm around Barbara’s shoulder and gently promised, “Silly child, don’t talk nonsense. You’ll always be Mom and Dad’s precious treasure.” “Somerville has complicated thoughts. We’re planning to send her to Colleen’s house for discipline for a while. Once you’re better, we’ll bring her back home.” The doll in my hand slipped and fell to the floor.

A flash of panic crossed Mom and Dad’s faces at being caught. Seeing me remain silent, Dad simply decided to come clean. “Since you’ve already heard, your mom and I won’t hide it from you anymore.” “Colleen called yesterday and kept nagging us to send you over for education for a while.” My body felt heavy, like it was filled with lead. With tears in my eyes, I looked up and met Mom and Dad’s gaze: “Mom, Dad, just because Barbara is sick, are you going to pretend you don’t love me and completely abandon me?” Dad turned his head away, unwilling to look at me. Mom snorted impatiently: “Didn’t you insist there are parents in the mirror who love you more than us? Then just take the mirror and go live at Colleen’s house.” After Mom finished speaking, she kicked me out of Barbara’s room and slammed the door shut. I listened to the laughter coming from inside the room, a dull pain spreading through my chest. Perhaps they were the happy family of three, and I was just the unwanted outsider. I silently returned to my room. The mom in the mirror had already prepared a fragrant lunch waiting for me. She unfolded her withered, shriveled body and smiled at me: “Come eat. After you eat, come with Mom. Your dad is still waiting for you inside the mirror.” I nodded with vacant eyes, obediently eating the meal the mom in the mirror had made. Halfway through the meal, my tears couldn’t be held back anymore and fell in large drops onto my rice. I sobbed quietly and asked the mom in the mirror, “Before I go, can I say goodbye to Mom and Dad?” The mom in the mirror grinned eerily. “Be quick. I’m about to take you away.” I wiped my tears, picked up the pen on the table and wrote a farewell letter to Mom and Dad, then ran to them and hugged them. “Mom, Dad, goodbye!” Mom looked at the letter and threw it in the trash like garbage. Dad’s face was tense. “Don’t think that by retreating, we’ll compromise and not send you away.” “Colleen will be here in 5 minutes. Go pack your things.” I nodded heavily. Although I was already prepared to leave, my heart still ached faintly. I returned to my room without taking anything, just sitting on the bed in a daze, looking at this home where I’d lived for six years. It suddenly felt so unfamiliar. At least in the mirror, there were parents who loved me, and there was no Barbara who disliked me. Living with Mom and Dad in the mirror should be happier than now, right? The next second, Colleen arrived at my bedroom door and shouted: “This door won’t open. Somerville must have locked it.” Mom and Dad outside the door knocked frantically, cursing: “Somerville, you’ve really gotten bold. Now you even dare to lock the door.” “Colleen is here to pick you up. Open the door right now!” “Even if we have to tie you up today, we’ll drag you out and fix your bad habits!” Seeing that I wouldn’t open the door no matter how much they scolded, Mom and Dad got furious and kicked the door open. At that moment, I was standing obediently in front of the mirror, waving goodbye to them one last time. Mom and Dad’s faces turned ashen as they glared at me, about to step forward and discipline me. The next moment, a pair of withered hands reached out from the mirror behind me. Mom and Dad’s faces instantly went pale. In panic, they shouted at me, “Somerville, come here quickly!” But I turned around and threw myself into that embrace without hesitation.

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He plays basketball. I post: [SHOCKER! Best Actor caught in a steamy tangle with multiple men!] He eats street food at midnight. I post: [EXPOSED! You won’t believe what the Oscar-winner is doing on the streets at night!] Stalking him late at night, the Best Actor finally snaps, grabs my wrist, and roars, “How much longer are you going to keep this up?!” The billionaire prince of Manhattan punches him square in the jaw: “Get your hands off my wife!” The Best Actor whips out a marriage certificate and sneers, “Look closely. Whose wife do you think she really is?” I instantly get thrilled! Oh my god, having amnesia is amazing! I get to have two husbands! 1 [EXPOSED! You won’t believe what the Oscar-winner is doing on the streets at night!] My latest post on X hits over a million views, likes, and retweets in less than an hour. The Best Actor’s fandom wakes up in the middle of the night just to drag me in the comments. [Ugh! Another massive clickbait load of garbage!] [If she’s so brave, why doesn’t she catch something real for once?!] [Trash paparazzi trash! What is the actual truth?!] Their hate drives me straight to the global trending page. On the trending board, my name is intimately tucked right next to his. #TrashPaparazzi ChloeBrooks# At 2:00 AM, Ethan Vance was sitting at a sketchy late-night food truck, wearing a black hoodie and a low-brimmed baseball cap. He was casually perched on a plastic stool, holding a cheap street corn dog. I even attached eighteen high-res photos, each one making the Best Actor look drop-dead gorgeous. The fans can curse me all they want, but they never fail to praise my photography skills. For the past year, every single masterpiece photo of the Best Actor has come from my lens. [Strangely, this awful paparazzi always captures a completely different side of Ethan.] [I know, right? She somehow brings out that lonely, melancholic vibe of his.] [Honestly… it almost feels like my husband is posing for her.] [The comment above, are you insane?] I look at the comments with supreme satisfaction. These tsundere little angels always click on my sponsored links right after trashing me. After all, I’ve never actually ruined Ethan’s reputation; if anything, I’ve gifted them endless wallpaper-worthy shots. My income is skyrocketing, making me shoot even more enthusiastically. Suddenly, someone knocks on my car window. I look up. Ethan Vance is standing outside, holding a half-eaten corn dog. Through the one-way tint, he can’t see me, but I can see him perfectly. [SOS! Save me right now!] I shrink back into my seat, frantically texting my childhood friend, Weston Sterling. [Ethan found me!] 2 Sitting in the police precinct at midnight, I am completely numb. Weston actually punched Ethan! Ethan has a nasty bruise on his jaw. He sits on the bench, face cold as ice, lost in thought. Weston squeezes my hand, his voice low: “I messed up big time.” Well, I can’t entirely blame him for being reckless. He had just gone to grab me some late-night takeout, and when he walked back, he saw a strange man pounding on my car window. He thought Ethan was some kind of creep and immediately threw a punch. “You’re the billionaire prince of Manhattan, who are you afraid of?” I tease him to lighten the mood. Hearing this, Weston’s face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance, and he reaches out to pinch my cheek. He hates that title more than anything. He thinks it sounds incredibly cringe and ridiculous. I swat his hand away, looking at the scrape on his knuckles. “Does your hand hurt?” Weston instantly stops fooling around. He lets out a prideful huff, turning his head away. Ethan’s manager rushes into the station. The moment he sees Ethan’s face, he blows a fuse. “You’re that trash paparazzi, aren’t you?!” “Ethan is supposed to be on set tomorrow! Can you even afford the breach of contract fees?!” He points his finger right at me, screaming, “Rats like you belong in the gutter, or locked up in a cell to learn some manners!” Spit flies from his mouth, nearly hitting my face as he curses. He gets more and more aggressive, poking his finger dangerously close to my nose. I’m not a coward. Normally, I would have broken his nose by now. But looking at his furious face, a sudden, suffocating weight crashes onto my chest. My head feels like it’s about to split open. Tears stream down my face uncontrollably. In a daze, I hear another voice echoing in my mind, screaming at me: “Are you trying to ruin him?!” “Fine! Go find him right now! Let the whole world know about your pathetic relationship!” “What makes you think you’re good enough for him? What right do you have to question him?!” The sheer agony suffocates me. Everything goes black, and I faint. The last thing I hear is Weston’s roaring fury: “If anything happens to her, I will personally destroy every single one of you!” 3 After my little blackout at the precinct, Weston locked me up in a private hospital suite for two weeks to recover. While he’s fast asleep, I sneak into the bathroom to play mobile games. I get so into it that I start trash-talking out loud. “See that? Showing off in front of my squad? You’re all dead meat!” “When the pro steps in, it’s game over.” A clean Penta-kill. Absolutely legendary. Just as I’m about to queue up for another match, my teammate hits me up on Discord voice chat. “It’s three in the morning. Why aren’t you asleep?” I sigh in frustration. “Don’t even get me started. I’m basically under house arrest.” “Ugh, last month I ran into some psycho who screamed at me until I fainted.” “I told you before, I have amnesia. My brain can’t handle extreme stress.” “My boyfriend keeps forcing me to do all these medical exams. It’s so annoying.” My teammate inquires: “How did the tests go?” I reply while browsing through the in-game store to buy a new skin. “All clear. The doctor said it was just a severe trauma response.” Speaking of trauma responses, I’m honestly speechless. My mom always says my personality is so bright and sunny that if the sun ever exploded, you could hang me up in space and I’d warm the entire planet. Yet, I literally fainted just from being pointed at and yelled at. It actually makes me curious. What on earth happened during those three missing years of my life? Weston said when he found me two years ago, I looked like a wandering ghost. It scared him to death. Two years have passed, and I haven’t recovered a single memory. “Hey, why are you awake in the middle of the night anyway?” I ask, gifting my teammate a few expensive skins. When I first woke up with amnesia, I was incredibly bored. I met this teammate in an online lobby, and he’s been carrying me ever since. He always seemed pretty broke, grinding late-night shifts, so I basically sponsored all his in-game cosmetics. “Playing games with some random guy at three in the morning, huh?” Weston’s voice suddenly rings out. He’s leaning against the doorframe, shirtless, wearing black shorts. His stunning eyes are burning with pure jealousy. He looks like he wants to break my legs. Feeling guilty, I stubbornly snap back, “That’s what you get for locking me up! I have too much energy and nowhere to expend it!” Weston scoffs. “Too much energy? Chloe, I think you’re just begging for trouble.” He walks over, scoops me up by the waist, and hoists me onto the marble sink. The cold surface makes me shriek, and I instantly wrap my legs around him. Weston holds my thighs, pinning me against the wall. “Cold, cold, cold!” I yell, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. Weston seals my lips, murmuring against them, “Don’t worry. You’ll warm up in a second.” The next day, I sleep until noon. I’m woken up by a barrage of phone notifications. I’m trending on X again. Wait, what is this hashtag? #MissYouTrashPaparazzi# What kind of twisted joke is this? How are these little devils mocking me now? I click on it, only to find out that Ethan Vance’s secret relationship has been leaked! But the gossip is super vague, and the leaked photos are incredibly blurry. His fans are frantically tagging me. [What kind of ancient flip-phone took these blurry photos?!] [Ugh, I actually miss our trash paparazzi.] [Every photo she takes is so high-def it feels like she’s hiding under my king’s bed.] [Trash paparazzi, come back! We promise to flame you less next time.] [Trash paparazzi, go investigate! Is Ethan really dating someone?!] I rub my hands together in excitement and immediately tweet out: [Hold on tight, babies! Mommy’s on it!] The fans always complain that I only post fake clickbait! This time, I’m definitely going to get them the real deal! Ethan’s relationship scoop has to come from me! Nationwide delivery! When it comes to pampering my anti-fans, I am dead serious! 4 Caught them! With a pounding heart and trembling hands, I finally caught them on camera! The secret girlfriend of the Oscar-winner Ethan Vance is actually the famous prima ballerina, Scarlett Dupont! No wonder Scarlett took a minor, uncredited role in Ethan’s new indie film—they’re sleeping together! Looks like that rising pop-starlet from last week was just clout-chasing. The initial leak was from some amateur paparazzi who posted a horribly pixelated photo of Ethan wearing a baseball cap, holding a girl in his arms. The night it went viral, the pop starlet posted a cryptic note on Instagram, asking everyone to “respect her privacy.” Puh-lease. Talk about a parasite. [It’s been five days. Where is the trash paparazzi?] [Chloe! I know you’re reading this! Don’t hide behind your screen!] [Is posting a tweet against your religion, trash paparazzi?] Having gone dark for five days, my little anti-fans are spamming my notifications, begging for the real scoop. I stare at the footage in my camera, hesitating. Ethan looked completely wasted. He looked up, said something to Scarlett, and rubbed his eyes. In that split second, when he looked back up, his eyes were bloodshot. There was a heartbreaking fracture in his gaze, as if he were using every ounce of his strength just to hold back his tears. I read his lips. He seemed to be saying something about “breaking up.” Hearing it, Scarlett’s tears instantly spilled over. Oh, those poor little lovers. What kind of drama are they going through? If I leak this right now, wouldn’t I just be fast-tracking their breakup? In the driver’s seat, Weston pulls my ear and nips my earlobe. He says irritably, “Chloe, it’s four in the morning. I skipped sleep to watch another man with you. What, are you actually feeling sorry for him now?” Weston is clearly sleep-deprived and cranky. He pushes me back against the car seat and kisses me fiercely. He bites my lip hard enough to sting. I pat his back, trying to soothe his temper. The guy has terrible morning wrath; dragging him out of bed at this hour was admittedly a bit cruel. Ever since we got together, Weston always finds ways to ravage me. Every time he kisses me, it’s like his life depends on it, refusing to stop until I’m entirely breathless. My tongue feels numb, and my lips burn. I push against him, but he refuses to let go. I can only snatch brief gasps of oxygen from his mouth. “Look at you, completely helpless, my little piggy,” Weston smirks, looking down at me. Before I know it, I’m curled up in his lap. He brushes his lips against my cheek, murmuring lazily, “Alright, you got the shot. Let’s go home and catch up on sleep. And don’t forget what you promised me before we left the house.” I glare at him, letting out a soft huff. He totally took advantage of the situation. If I hadn’t agreed to that specific demand, he would have refused to act as my chauffeur. I lower my head to tweet: [Stop crying, babies! I can guarantee that Ethan’s girlfriend is absolutely NOT that starlet who claims to be allergic to alcohol but can actually chug a whole bottle of tequila. It’s someone else! @GossipKing, stop feeding us rotten garbage leaks, or I’ll personally smack you across the face. Babies, sorry for the wait. To make it up to you, like, retweet, and comment on this post—I’m picking ten people tonight to win a brand-new Louis Vuitton Neonoe bucket bag.] “Wow, Chloe. Making it big, huh?” Weston immediately pulls out his phone to like and retweet. I am completely speechless. Look at this shameless man! To my surprise, @GossipKing actually claps back instantly. @GossipKing: [@WildPiglet, lol, if you don’t bring real receipts, you really think I’m running a circus here?] And then, he leaks a video! I click on it and examine it closely. The video seems to have been shot in late autumn. Ethan is sitting on a stone bench behind a manicured garden hedge, wearing a black jacket. A girl is sitting on his lap, her face obscured. His expression is cold and detached. The girl suddenly stands up to leave, looking furious. Ethan grabs her wrist, pulls her back onto his lap, cups her face, and kisses her passionately. The internet completely explodes! And I am frozen in shock! I zoom in on the video, and my mind goes entirely blank. The girl in the video has a distinct red mole on her neck. As Ethan kisses her, his hand repeatedly caresses that exact spot. What the hell?! It’s in the exact same spot as the red mole on my neck. Every time Weston pins me down to have his way with me, he loves to bite that exact spot! Weston looks down at my phone, and his expression instantly changes. I sit up, feeling a cold shiver run down my spine. The car window is rolled down, and suddenly, Ethan Vance appears in my line of sight. He stares at my lips first, then glances down at my phone screen. The alcohol must have finally hit him. He brutally yanks the car door open. Before I can even react, he pulls me into a tight embrace, his voice cracking with a suffocating sob: “Wife, I’m sorry. It was my fault. Please, just come back to me.” 5 The entire internet is trying to dig up the identity of Ethan Vance’s secret lover! Hahaha, they don’t know, but I do! I rub my hands in pure excitement, screaming internally. Ethan’s girlfriend is definitely Scarlett Dupont! I really am the undisputed god of Hollywood gossip! Ethan just mistook me for someone else because he’s wasted! Pushing his way in and calling me his wife scared the living daylights out of me. But then I noticed Scarlett’s neck, and a bolt of lightning struck my brain. I yelled out, “Oh my god! So the Best Actor’s mystery woman really is Scarlett Dupont! Weston, look! The red mole on her neck is identical to the girl in the video!” Wow, @GossipKing actually pulled out some real receipts this time. In that video, Ethan looks noticeably younger. Who knows where they dug up that old footage. Ethan seemed to sober up instantly. He stumbled back half a step, staring at me with a hollow, devastated look. Weston glares at him with a cold sneer. “Ethan, don’t use alcohol as an excuse to play dumb and touch my wife. If you dare lay a single finger on my Chloe again, I won’t hesitate to break your other hand.” Scarlett rushes over, supporting Ethan’s weight. Her eyes are red as she whispers sharply, “Weston Sterling is a monster, don’t provoke him. Be rational.” I hated hearing that. Furious, I snap, “Miss Dupont, we’re all adults here. Watch your mouth! If you keep spouting nonsense, believe it or not, I’ll leak everything about you two right this second!” Scarlett snaps, crying out hysterically, “Did I say something wrong?! Weston literally snapped Ethan’s wrist, locked him in a room, and let him suffer in agony for three days! He missed the critical window for surgery, and now he can never play the piano again!” Uh… that statement completely shuts me up. She called Weston a monster… and honestly, doing something like that, Weston really was a… well, uh. What kind of deep blood feud drives someone to break another man’s hand? Ethan originally debuted as a prodigy pianist. No wonder nobody has seen him touch a piano for the past two years. “Weston can be hot-headed, but he would never bully someone without a reason,” I say, squeezing Weston’s hand tightly. “He only loses his mind when it involves me. Miss Dupont, you look like you absolute hate him. So let me ask you: did Ethan do something so unforgivable that Weston couldn’t let it slide?” Did I work as a paparazzi before my amnesia and capture some insane scandal that made Ethan assault me? And then Weston, out of pure rage, broke Ethan’s hand? Before Scarlett can answer, my phone vibrates violently. I look down. Someone is blowing up my alt account on Discord with a voice call. This alt account is loaded with Ethan’s top fansite admins. We usually trade tips on his schedule. “Trash paparazzi! Where the hell are you?!” “All hell just broke loose! Get on Twitter right now!” 6 I log onto X, and holy crap, it really is a massive explosion! @GossipKing: [Lol, Ethan Vance always acts so pure and noble, and his fans keep bragging about how much he loves them. Well, he sure loves them—he loves them so much he’s been sleeping with his biggest fansite admin. Bet you guys didn’t know that, did you?] This time, there are no pictures or videos. It’s just words. But Ethan’s rival fandoms are absolutely ecstatic! They are digging like bloodhounds. The app crashes multiple times from the sheer volume of traffic. An engineer tweets from his personal account: [FUCK MY LIFE!!! Can you paparazzi pick an hour that isn’t midnight to start a war?!] Within ten minutes, an anti-fan account compiles a massive thread. @IsEthanRuinedYet: [Receipts are right here! The girl in the video is wearing a blue hooded jacket. It’s an exact match to the jacket worn by his biggest fansite admin, @WildPiglet, in an old airport arrival video!] The fans immediately launch a counter-attack. [That jacket was a massive trend that year! Literally everyone bought one!] [What does this prove? Piglet left the fandom two years ago! Are you guys so desperate that you have to drag a retired fan?!] [Lol, Ethan isn’t going anywhere. Your faves can keep eating dirt!] @IsEthanRuinedYet strikes back with another post instantly! [The jacket might be generic, but look closely at the bracelet on the girl’s wrist! Every single stone is a flawless, ultra-rare pink diamond. That is not some twenty-dollar fast-fashion junk! That exact bracelet was spotted on @WildPiglet’s wrist before! Anyone who knows luxury jewelry knows that pink diamond bracelet is a global limited edition—only three exist in the entire world.] This time, Ethan’s fans go dead silent. People are frantically DMing me. [Trash paparazzi! Where are you?! We’re dying over here!] [Didn’t you say you caught his real girlfriend? Is it really Piglet?] [We are in deep trouble this time.] @WildPiglet used to be Ethan’s absolute biggest fansite admin. It’s safe to say that without her, Ethan would have never gotten his initial breakout fame. But two years ago, her account went permanently dark, and she vanished from the public eye. My inbox is melting down. Fans are begging me for the truth. But as for what the truth is… even I’m not sure anymore. “Weston… the girl in GossipKing’s video… it’s me, isn’t it?” I look up at Weston, completely bewildered. “You gave me that bracelet. Nobody else could possibly have it.” My head throbs with an agonizing pain, feeling like it’s about to explode. Weston reaches up to wipe my face, and only then do I realize I’m covered in tears. His eyes are bloodshot, his throat bobbing as if he wants to speak, but he just tightly grips my hand. After a long silence, he chokes out, “Chloe… don’t cry. When you cry, my heart breaks.” I turn my gaze back to Ethan. Ethan pulls a stack of small, red booklets from a drawer and spreads them out in front of me. Inside the booklets are photos. I’m sporting a high ponytail, laughing brightly, a deep dimple flashing on my cheek. And I am leaning intimately against Ethan. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt, a gentle warmth crinkling the corners of his eyes. What is this? A marriage certificate… between me and Ethan? 7 SHOCKER! The ultimate gossip subject is actually me! Two clear marriage certificates prove beyond a doubt that I am Ethan Vance’s secretly wedded wife. I lean in and whisper to Weston, “Wait, does this mean we’ve been having an affair?” Weston lets out a cold huff. “What? Thinking of dumping me now?” I suppress my bizarre excitement and whisper back, “Not at all. I just feel like our relationship suddenly got a whole lot more thrilling.” I’m not blind! There are two massive, glaring “VOID” stamps inked across the certificates, meaning this marriage is legally over. How surreal. I was actually married to the top Oscar-winner. And what’s even more surreal is that we got divorced. The anti-fans dig up everything. It’s crystal clear now: I am indeed Ethan’s former million-follower fansite admin—@WildPiglet. Ethan’s new manager is blowing up his phone, and his PR team is desperately trying to suppress the trending hashtags. But right in front of my face, Ethan types out a tweet and posts it directly. @EthanVance: [There are many things I don’t know how to explain right now. We married out of love, and we divorced out of love. During our three years together, I failed her deeply in many ways. I hope everyone can give me some time and space. I will handle my personal affairs privately, and then I will hold a press conference to give my fans the explanation they deserve.] I ponder for a moment, then log into my own account to post a tweet. @WildPiglet: [I literally just found out that I am Ethan Vance’s ex-wife. Before tonight, I had three years of total amnesia and knew absolutely nothing. My gossip, my leak! @GossipKing, you old clown, are you stupid? I am still the reigning sovereign of Hollywood tea! Go cry in a corner.] Ethan’s fandom goes completely haywire. [The trash paparazzi is the actual ex-wife?!] [The ex-wife is Piglet?!] [Someone map out this timeline for me, my brain is melting!] [Honestly… if the wife is the trash paparazzi, I’m kind of okay with it? She’s rich, gorgeous, and hilariously unhinged.] Off to the side, Scarlett breaks down into hysterical tears. “Ethan! Do you have any idea how much you sacrificed to get where you are today?! We could have easily let this blow over! Why did you have to announce it?! Chloe doesn’t even remember you anyway! She’s no threat to your career!” Having stalked Ethan for so long, I know exactly how brutal his journey to stardom was. In his early days as a background actor, he was humiliated by a toxic co-star who made him crawl between his legs just to get a line. Filming a historical drama in sub-zero weather, he plunged into a freezing lake repeatedly for a realistic shot, catching a terrifying fever that night. At industry dinners, to beg a director for a single audition, he drank until his stomach bled, yet he still grit his teeth and pushed through. “Scarlett is right,” I say, feeling a pang of pity. “Ethan, you should go to your agency and figure out a proper damage control strategy with your publicist. If you need me to cooperate with a statement, I will.” Setting everything else aside, I still respect Ethan’s talent. Ethan gazes at me, his eyes slowly filling with tears. He whispers, “Chloe… you didn’t actually lose your memory. You just don’t love me anymore, do you?”

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I Was Reincarnated as a She-Wolf. When the Alpha Howled His Commands, I Barely Managed a Half-Hearted Yip. Because of my epic laziness, I was exiled from the pack. Starving and dizzy, I finally stumbled upon a human trail. Throwing away my wolf pride, I rolled onto my back and shamelessly begged the humans for food. Sustained by Twinkies and hotdogs, I even grew a glossy, luxurious winter coat. The Alpha ran hundreds of miles to find me, only to see my pathetic display. His hackles raised as he roared: “I just have one question—why is your tail wagging so high?!” 1 Every time I ovulate, I revert back to a human girl. I always find a hidden spot to secretly get through it. Unfortunately, the old Alpha caught a whiff of my overwhelming scent and found me. Ahhh! Wake up, buddy! We have a biological barrier here! I practically tumbled over myself scrambling up a tree, barely escaping by the skin of my teeth. After that, the old Alpha lost a duel to a low-ranking wolf named Shadow and was exiled from the pack. Shadow killed the old Alpha’s pups and took his place. I hadn’t even woken up yet when Shadow stood on the mountain peak and started howling. From all directions, the pack howled back, their voices ringing out in a unified, deafening chorus. It’s way too early for this! Let a wolf sleep, will you?! I lifted a paw, covered my ear, and tried to go back to sleep. “Why aren’t you howling? Watch out, the Alpha will come beat you up,” the wolf next to me kindly warned. I’ve literally reincarnated as an animal, and I still can’t just lie flat? I hate this! I hate hustle culture! Without even bothering to open my eyes, I gave a half-hearted, weak a-woo. “You’re so brave. Do you know how terrifying Shadow is?” Isn’t it just a story of a try-hard who grinded his way to the top and became Alpha? What’s so terrifying about that? Suddenly, a thunderous sound approached, accompanied by an incredibly oppressive wave of testosterone. I jolted awake, scrambled to my feet, and ran to the edge of the hill to look. I saw Shadow looking furious, leading a massive swarm of wolves straight toward me. Dust and dirt kicked up everywhere they went. I was so terrified my fur instantly spiked up like a sawblade. He’s not here to beat me up; he’s here to kill me! Without looking back, I bolted, running for my life. Panting and wheezing, I ran over a hundred and fifty miles without stopping, finally making it out of the primeval forest. Running all night left me parched and starving. I found a river to drink from, but a massive water buffalo suddenly burst out of the water. I was so scared I didn’t even dare to drink. I turned and ran for my life again. So hungry… so hungry… I stumbled and swayed before just collapsing on the ground and falling asleep. Ugh… if I’m asleep, I won’t feel hungry. Half-asleep, I felt something fuzzy brushing against my nose. I opened my eyes halfway. There was a rabbit right in front of me. “Ah-woo.” I opened my mouth but couldn’t bring myself to bite down. It’s an old rabbit. The meat will be too tough. Hard pass. In the middle of the night, I mustered up my courage and crept back to the river, belly to the ground. While the water buffalo was sleeping, I quickly snatched a fish and bolted. 2 In the bushes, a pair of golden wolf eyes moved slowly, looking exceptionally cold and terrifying in the moonlight. I perked my ears up, staring at him warily. He stepped out of the bushes. He was a young male wolf, nearly six and a half feet long. His fur was sleek and shiny, his muscles lean and defined, but what stood out most were those chilling, terrifying golden pupils. My breath hitched. “Who are you? What do you want?” I backed up step by step, staying on high alert. If he dares to pounce, I’ll… I’ll run! “Why aren’t you with your pack?” He just stopped in front of me, not moving any closer. This wolf radiated an incredibly dangerous aura. I felt like I had smelled this scent somewhere before, but I couldn’t quite place it. Whatever, too lazy to think about it. Maybe all male wolves smell this gross. I knew that in the brutal animal kingdom, being a lone wolf was incredibly dangerous. But… “I was being hunted by the Alpha! Wouldn’t you run?” He looked surprised. “Why did you think he wanted to kill you?” “He’s a petty wolf!” So what if my howl was a little half-hearted? He actually brought the whole pack to hunt me down over it! “You’re too weak. If you don’t stay with a pack, you’ll die.” When he called me weak, he wasn’t just talking about my combat skills. I was less than four feet long, and I was a white wolf. Snow-white fur provides zero camouflage in the wild, making me an easy target for predators. “Are you weak too? Why aren’t you with a pack?” He didn’t look like a weak wolf to me. He was silent for a moment. “Yeah. Pretty much the same as you.” Ah, so he just looks intimidating, but he’s actually a rejected, weak wolf just like me. Feeling a sense of camaraderie, I didn’t chase him away. Instead, I made a spot for him to sleep. He asked me, “What’s your name?” “Maya.” That was my human name. “What about you? What’s yours?” “I’m… Nolan.” The deep wilderness was so quiet you could only hear the wind. I slept until the sun was high in the sky. I yawned, lazily propping myself up to look at Nolan. I didn’t expect him to be even lazier than me. A mosquito landed on his ear, and he just twitched it without even opening his eyes. With my ears flattened, I kept my head low and crawled forward. Strangely, I didn’t see the water buffalo from yesterday. I carefully sniffed around and caught a super intense scent of blood. Following the smell, I found the water buffalo dead by the river, covered in blood. Flies were buzzing all over it. Looking at the bite marks, this giant beast had clearly been killed by a wolf. Huh? Is there some badass… I mean, badass wolf nearby? “Why aren’t you eating?” Nolan suddenly appeared behind me. “The meat is too tough, the skin is too thick, and flies are shitting on it. I’m passing.” He didn’t expect a wolf to be this picky, refusing to eat this and that even when starving to death. With the water buffalo gone, I splashed around in the river, catching fish. I also rolled around in the water to wash my snow-white fur. And… the strong female scent— It was almost time for me to revert back to a human girl. Meanwhile, the lazy wolf Nolan laid on a rock, resting his chin on his paws, watching me lazily through half-closed eyes. “A herd of elephants is going to pass through here soon. We need to leave,” he said. “I don’t want to.” I finally found a place with food and water. I haven’t even started my lazy wolf life yet. “Do you want to get flattened by an elephant?” 3 Cherish your wolf life; stay away from elephant herds. I ended up following Nolan. Crossing the plains, we entered a jungle. My keen senses picked up the scent of a wolf pack. Overjoyed, I followed the scent. Under a tree, a scrawny male wolf was gnawing on a piece of rotting meat. The meat was foul and filthy; I wouldn’t eat it even if I were starving. I suppressed my disgust and walked over. “Hi there, can I meet your Alpha?” If I’m lucky and meet a generous Alpha, I can start my lazy life of mooching off the pack. The skinny wolf saw me and gave a wicked grin. “Sure, follow me.” I didn’t think much of it and followed him. After a few steps, he suddenly spun around and pounced on me, pinning me down. “Ahhhh! What are you doing?!” My brain short-circuited. I instinctively fought with everything I had to escape. But he was too strong. Pinned beneath him, I couldn’t break free. When I realized what he was trying to do, my mind went blank. I just curled my tail tightly over my butt. Even though he was skinny, male wolves have an absolute advantage over females in both size and strength. Just when I was exhausted and hopelessly thought my butt was doomed, the weight on me suddenly vanished. Nolan was tangled in a vicious fight with the skinny wolf. Without daring to look back, I seized the chance and ran for my life. I sprinted across a gravel bank, through a meadow, and finally stopped at a watering hole, panting heavily. I laid by the river, took a few gulps of water, and then heard Nolan’s howl: “A-woo—” I heard that kind of howl often. It was the howl of victory. Even though my heart was still pounding, I remembered Nolan had just saved my butt, so I headed back. When I returned, the scene before me was shocking. The skinny wolf’s neck was snapped; he was lying dead on the ground with his mouth open. Nolan had his paw on another wolf, who appeared to be the pack’s Alpha. The Alpha was barely clinging to life, panting heavily, his belly heaving. The rest of the pack watched in stunned silence. None dared to challenge this outsider male wolf. Nolan saw me, released the Alpha, and slowly walked toward me under the pack’s watchful eyes. I was so terrified I gulped. I didn’t expect this lazy wolf to be such a badass! He narrowed his eyes at me. “What, are you scared of me?” I shook my head, then nodded, suddenly too tongue-tied to speak. 4 I really couldn’t figure out what this big boss wanted. Wherever I went, he followed. While I was still trying to catch fish and rabbits, he had already hunted down several water buffaloes and wildebeests. A familiar, strange sensation surged through my body. I knew it was time for me to revert back to a human girl. To keep Nolan from discovering my secret, I sneaked away while he was sleeping. I needed to find a safe, hidden spot before I transformed. Finally, over three hundred miles away, I found a cave. The entrance was hidden by vegetation, and there were plenty of decaying leaves to mask my scent. To avoid starving, I gathered some wild berries and brought them back to the cave. Exhausted, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was a human girl again. Unfortunately, I underestimated the temperature drop in this forest. The sun was warm during the day, but at night, it felt like an icebox. I had no clothes and didn’t dare go outside, so I curled into a ball to keep from freezing to death. So warm… so soft… What is this? I slowly opened my eyes, only to meet a pair of golden wolf eyes! My breath caught in my throat. I stammered, “No… Nolan?” I had no idea how he found me. He was lying completely on top of me, but he wasn’t doing anything inappropriate. Was he going to eat me, or was he just using his fur to keep me warm? “Wh-what are you doing?” My voice couldn’t stop shaking. “Keeping you from freezing to death.” I let out a sigh of relief. “How did you find me?” “Your scent is very strong,” he said. “You’re in heat.” “No! Don’t make it sound so gross!” I couldn’t help raising my voice. “Human women go through this every month. It’s nothing special!” “You go into heat every month?” He sounded surprised. “It’s not heat! It’s a normal biological function!” I tried to correct him. But he ignored me, resting his head on me, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. Even though this wolf was fierce, I was sure he meant me no harm. Thanks to his fur keeping me warm, I safely made it through my “special time.” When I turned back into a wolf, I felt a deep sense of loss. I’m human. I’m a human…

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The new transfer student clung to me the second he arrived. He was proud, cheerful, and full of youthful spirit. I tutored him, helping him climb from the absolute bottom of the class to the top tier. He would rescue me from awkward situations, pinching my cheek and saying: “Little coward, let me take you to ditch class and get ice cream, okay?” Until I overheard him confessing to someone else at the corner of the stairwell. His eyes were obedient, his voice pleading. “I came here for you.” “You really hate her, right? I’ll drag her down.” During evening study hall that night, I finished seven practice exams, working so relentlessly that it made everyone else in the room panic. 1 During our senior year of high school, all my AP science notes were thrown into the muddy school pond. Carter Hayes jumped into the filthy water without a second of hesitation. Soon, he held the soaking wet notebook high in the air. He flashed a bright, blinding smile at me. “Chloe, I found your notebook.” Looking at the ink-smeared, mud-caked notebook… “Th… thank you.” I thanked him softly. I was a natural stutterer; my speech was never fluid. “Keep me company after school to buy ice cream as a thank you, okay?” He grinned, revealing his slightly pointed canine teeth. The students crowding around us immediately started cheering and teasing. “No.” After school, the physics teacher was going to explain some problems to me; I didn’t want to waste my study time. As soon as I refused, Carter’s face fell, looking exactly like a kicked puppy. “Oh, I see… then I won’t bother you.” His amber eyes were filled with visible disappointment. Carter’s buddies immediately jumped in. “Carter dug your notebook out of dirty water, and you won’t even buy him an ice cream?” I looked at Carter standing tall in front of me, laughing and roughhousing with his friends. “Nobody is allowed to tease Chloe, she’s busy.” If I hadn’t eventually learned Carter’s true colors. I really would have believed he was my salvation, my protective knight in shining armor. I still vividly remembered yesterday at the corner of the stairs. He was half-kneeling on the ground, tying a girl’s shoelaces. The sunlight gilded his profile; the usually arrogant boy looked incredibly gentle and careful. I leaned against the wall, clamping a hand over my mouth. I clearly heard him say: “You really hate Chloe Vance, right? Just wait a bit longer, I’ll drag her grades down.” “Don’t worry, I won’t fall for her.” “I came here for you, Audrey Miller.” 2 Before I met Carter, I seemed to have never been noticed by anyone. Ever since my mom remarried, she seemed to have completely changed. She went from being my mom— To being the mom of the daughter my stepdad brought with him. At the dinner table, she would endlessly praise Audrey. “Audrey, eat some more, these are your favorite chicken wings.” Mom piled all the chicken wings from the serving bowl onto my nominal step-sister’s plate. Audrey glanced at me coldly, a bit disgusted. “No thanks, I’m on a diet.” I looked up at my mom. The smile on her face was a little awkward. “Right, right, after all, you’re so pretty, Audrey.” When Mom noticed me looking at her, her face suddenly flushed red, and she angrily scolded me. “Audrey isn’t like you. All you know is how to eat, eat, eat. You’ve gotten as fat as a pig.” I lowered my head and said nothing. I was born with a stutter; it was even more obvious when I spoke in long sentences, so I couldn’t be bothered to defend myself. I just buried my head and ate my rice. It was just that today’s rice tasted a bit salty. I didn’t know why. I clearly didn’t eat that much. Why did my body inflate like a balloon, gaining weight and breaking out in severe acne? I tried suggesting that I wanted to go to the doctor for a check-up, but Mom shot me down, even twisting my ear as she scolded: “It’s just puberty acne, you’re making a fuss over nothing. We don’t have money to take you for medical tests. You have zero sympathy for your mother and only know how to waste money.” But my step-sister’s dance classes were a hundred dollars a session, and she never missed a single one. My stepdad didn’t like me either, but he maintained a facade of surface-level kindness. My bloated figure only further highlighted Audrey’s beautiful, slender frame. I held a breath of fierce resentment in my chest. I refused to believe I was inferior to Audrey in every single way. So I studied desperately, and finally, my grades squeezed into the top fifty in the entire school, much better than Audrey, who hovered right in the middle. But when I walked home carrying a ten-pound backpack… Passing by the glass windows of a high-end, beautiful boutique… I clearly saw my mom and stepdad together, picking out a pearl hair clip for Audrey. Audrey was holding a cup of ice cream, eating it lazily. Letting my mom stand behind her on her tiptoes, brushing her hair and trying on the hair clip. I gripped my backpack straps tightly. I stood in the tidal wave of the crowd, watching them. My backpack felt so incredibly heavy in that moment, almost pressing me down so hard I couldn’t take a single step. I saw the “Dairy Queen” logo on the ice cream cup Audrey was holding. I remembered a few days ago when I asked my mom for money to buy school supplies, and she viciously threw a crumpled five-dollar bill at me. I bought a scantron pencil, an eraser, and a black pen. The money was gone. The teacher’s words from class echoed in my ears. “Correct your mistakes in red pen, correct them in red pen! Chloe, tell your mom to go buy you a red pen.” 3 Carter was the new transfer student. As soon as he transferred to our school, he clung to me. Before the teacher even assigned him a seat, he sat down right in front of me. “Teacher, I’ll just sit here.” Then he turned his head and said to me. “Hi, I’m Carter. Can I borrow a pen?” As the unremarkable, chubby girl in class, this was the very first time a boy had actively struck up a conversation with me. My heart instantly felt nervous, and I even subconsciously felt a deep wave of shame. Please don’t be sarcastic, and please don’t laugh at me. This was the subconscious reaction of a historically ignored, self-esteem-lacking, cowardly person facing friendliness. I frantically dug through my backpack, but could only find some chipped, imperfect pens. These were all picked up from the floor while doing classroom cleaning duties. I had no allowance; my school supplies were mostly school rewards or things I found on the ground. I finally managed to dig out a black click-pen and handed it to Carter. This pen flowed with a lot of ink, and I only ever dared to use it when writing English essays. He took the pen and casually handed me a Ferrero Rocher. “Thanks. This is for you.” That chocolate, wrapped in gold foil, made me panic. Back in 2015, a Ferrero Rocher was a very expensive candy to me; I had never tasted one before. I carefully tucked it into my desk cubby, planning to return it to him after class. The moment the bell rang and he stood up, I gathered my courage and called his name. Thankfully, I didn’t stutter. “Carter.” “Hmm? What’s up?” Carter turned his head to look at me. He was tall, and stepping on the leg of his chair, I had to look up at him. The corners of his mouth carried a smile, and his eyes reflected a chubby me, a shy me. “You don’t… need to… give me…” I was so pathetic, I stuttered again. He burst out laughing. Winds from all directions suddenly rushed in through the open window. The wind lifted the blue curtains, blowing them up like sails on a ship. The test papers of the students in the class fluttered up like pigeons taking flight. A piece of paper flew up and perfectly covered half of his brow and eye. He smiled at me and said. “How did you become a little stutterer?” “It’s actually kind of cute…” 4 Honestly, high school students are usually very sensitive to transfer students, often rejecting them. But Carter mixed perfectly with everyone as soon as he arrived. He had an outgoing personality, a tall, handsome build, and the teachers treated him with noticeable politeness. High schoolers have a natural awe for students who come from wealthy, powerful families. Carter flawlessly integrated into the class. Between classes, boys actively invited him to play basketball, and girls would tell him what the next class was. Many people tried to get on his good side. I was sitting so close to him, yet I didn’t dare say a single word to him. But Carter actively sought me out. During class, if he forgot his textbook, he would pull his chair right next to mine to share. He would naturally turn around to ask me for the homework. Somehow, we slowly became familiar with each other through this. But most of the time, Carter only talked to me during class. The second class ended, he disappeared. I didn’t have any close friends, so during breaks, I mostly sat in my seat studying physics problems by myself. That was when Ethan Wright came over with a physics test paper. Ethan was our class’s Academic Rep. He was tall and had clean features. But he always wore round glasses, and combined with his middle-part haircut, the other boys gave him the nickname “Teacher’s Pet.” He had a softer personality, so the boys didn’t really like hanging out with him either. Like me, Ethan was somewhat of a social outcast in the class. Ethan brought his test paper and plopped right down in Carter’s seat, then leaned in so our heads were close together to discuss the problem. The more we calculated, the closer we felt to the answer. We looked up and smiled at each other, actually feeling a bit of mutual appreciation. But right at that moment, laughter rang out in my ears. A few bored boys had wandered over to tease us. “What are you two doing?” “Dating, obviously.” The moment those words left the boy’s mouth… Ethan reacted like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. He instantly shoved the test paper away from us. The thin paper was pinched by a textbook and ripped cleanly in half with a loud shhhk. Ethan’s face turned beet red. I knew it wasn’t the blush of shyness; it was pure embarrassment and shame. He felt ashamed of being paired up with a fat girl. The physics problem wasn’t even fully solved yet, but Ethan stood up and yelled. “What kind of garbage are you talking about? I would never like Chloe.” The boy next to him grinned. “Yeah, exactly, Chloe’s like Porky Pig.” My ears were filled with the boys’ mocking laughter and Ethan’s raised, defensive voice explaining himself. I gripped the pen in my hand, remaining completely silent from start to finish. My face looked calm, but I knew that the internal fortress I called self-esteem was collapsing, falling apart piece by piece. Dust and smoke rose from the ruins of my heart. I wouldn’t cry. A fat person’s tears wouldn’t earn anyone’s sympathy; it would only put me in an even more awkward, humiliating position. I just buried my head lower and lower. 5 “So what if she’s chubby? That just means she eats well.” Carter’s magnetic, slightly raspy voice suddenly rang out. I had no idea when Carter had returned to the classroom, but he was standing right next to us. He was tall and carried an intimidating presence. Because he had just transferred, he didn’t have a school uniform yet. He was wearing his own black crewneck t-shirt. A silver chain hung around his neck. It only amplified his arrogant, untamed aura. Carter was lazily spinning a small keychain on his finger, from which dangled a little white bunny. He tossed the little bunny onto my desk, as if to comfort my broken heart. Then, he lazily reached out and grabbed Ethan by the back of his collar. Sounding like he was just joking around: “Move aside, stop wasting Chloe’s time. I still need her to tutor me.” The boys who were teasing earlier kept pushing it: “What’s up, Carter, is Chloe yours or something?” Carter shot him a lazy, sidelong glance, a careless smirk hanging on his lips. But his tone was incredibly firm and serious. “Yeah, she’s mine. Got a problem?” The boy’s brutal honesty choked the others into silence. “Chloe, explain this problem to me.” Carter squeezed past a flushed, embarrassed Ethan. He held up his physics textbook, flipped to the chapter on reference frames, and badgered me to teach him. Ethan’s face went white, then red. But intimidated by Carter, he didn’t say anything. He just gripped his physics book so tightly his knuckles turned white and his veins popped. Even though the lesson on reference frames was relatively simple, I still earnestly explained the concepts to Carter. It was only halfway through my explanation that I realized something was off. I casually looked up, locking eyes with him. He wasn’t looking at the problem at all. He was just resting his chin on his hand, watching me with deep interest. He had slightly downturned, world-weary eyes with dark irises that looked like polished obsidian. It made my heart race in panic. Carter was different from the other boys in class. I had been given cruel nicknames and called Miss Piggy. I had been blamed by the boys behind me for blocking their view when I was punished and made to stand in the back of the class. When it came to taking out the trash or scrubbing the sinks, the others subconsciously assigned those dirty, tiring chores to me. Because I was fat and plain, I didn’t have the right to resist. When carrying heavy boxes, I had tried to say: “I don’t think I can carry two classrooms’ worth of textbooks by myself.” The only response I got was an impatient: “Fat people are strong, stop whining.” But Carter was the only one. He was the only one— Who treated me like a normal girl. An ordinary high school girl’s fragile, crumbling self-esteem… In that exact moment, had finally been seen and defended.

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After the party ended, Tristan kissed me, riding the high of his buzz. I thought my years of secret, unrequited love had finally seen the light of day. But just two days later, he went Instagram official with his new girlfriend. It was a backlit photo of them kissing, captioned: “Plotted for a long time, finally got what I wished for.” 1 I gathered my courage and called him. “Did it have to be Chloe?” “Do I need to report to you who I’m dating?” His lazy drawl came through the receiver, so familiar yet suddenly acting like a total stranger. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat, let out a long breath, and asked, “If it’s her, then what am I?” And what was that kiss? There was a long silence on the other end. After a pause, he let out a cold scoff. “Think whatever you want.” The dead dial tone pierced my eardrums, and a wave of absolute exhaustion swept through my bones. It was a very strange feeling. It was like the little boat you relied on to survive suddenly sprang a leak. You watch the hole slowly widen, the water seeping in inch by inch, yet you stubbornly fantasize that you can still patch it up. It isn’t until the water entirely swallows the hull that you suddenly realize: some things don’t yield good results just because you try hard enough. I took a deep breath and went to the bathroom to wash my face. When I came back, Tristan was calling me again. “Clara, bring a box of pads over. It’s not really convenient for me to go buy them right now.” My heart violently sank. Did he really… think I would never leave him? 2 My family runs a convenience store, located right next door to his house. For certain things, it really was convenient. But it was exactly this convenience that gave him the opportunity to stab me in the heart, over and over again. “Here.” My face was flushed red as I angrily threw the box of pads into his chest. But the moment I turned around, he grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt. “What, you’re mad?” He knew exactly why I was mad. I swatted his hand away, gritting my teeth. “Next time you bring someone home, you don’t need to notify me.” He didn’t take it seriously at all. In fact, he looked incredibly satisfied with my visible discomfort, as if seeing me suffer brought him immense joy. I was so furious I turned to leave. But Tristan was tall with a long reach. With a casual stretch of his arm, he grabbed my hood again and pulled me right back. “You’re a grown adult, how can you be this bad at basic things?” He tossed the box onto the entryway console and slowly, meticulously helped fix my flipped-out hood. He was standing entirely too close. His hot breath brushed against my face, instantly making my heart pound like a drum. He was always like this. A slap in the face, followed by a piece of candy. “Tristan, did you see my earrings?” Right as he was fixing my hood, a girl’s whiny voice echoed from behind him. The moment I saw her, I involuntarily took a step back. It was Chloe. This was the girl who had thrown dirty water on me, called me an ugly freak, and framed me for stealing money. The two of them whispered something to each other, making me, the girl standing in the doorway, look like an absolute pathetic third wheel. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms. Watching them link arms, preparing to shut the door in my face, I suddenly found a surge of reckless courage and yelled at Tristan’s back. “I don’t want to like you anymore.” His footsteps halted, and the hand resting on Chloe’s waist visibly twitched. He froze for a few seconds before softly telling her, “Go back inside first.” Chloe shot me a look of pure disdain, didn’t say a word, and obediently went back in. That look was so triumphant, written with absolute mockery and contempt for me. But I didn’t actually care about her. Because for all these years, the only person who could truly hurt me was Tristan. He slowly turned around, his brow furrowed, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it. “You’re cutting me off again?” He said it so casually, entirely convinced that my bark was worse than my bite. I bit my lip hard, wanting to say something vicious, but realized I was exactly as pathetic as he thought I was. I couldn’t force those words out of my mouth a second time. Eventually, Tristan grew impatient. He tossed the cigarette butt on the ground and scoffed, arrogantly delivering his final verdict. “Fine, Clara. You better keep your word. Whoever reaches out first is a pathetic loser.” Psycho. Throwing out ultimatums like a middle schooler. But I have to admit, I was just as stubborn as he was. I stood there for a long time, my hand hovering over his doorbell, hesitating again and again, but ultimately, I never pressed it. “Fine. This time, I’ll keep my word.” 3 In my memory, this wasn’t our first fight. But compared to the countless frictions of our past, the ending this time was eerily quiet. If this were the past, I would have tossed and turned in the dead of night, listened to his favorite Spotify playlist, analyzed his Instagram stories, and meticulously drafted a massive apology paragraph, waiting for him to mercifully forgive my impulsiveness. But this time, I blocked Tristan’s number and went a full month without contacting him. It felt just like the time he got into that car crash; I felt like a layer of my skin had been peeled off. Back then, the doctors made it sound incredibly serious. I thought Tristan was never going to wake up. I was a walking zombie—I even almost burned down the kitchen trying to make fried rice. When my mom came home and saw me curled up in the corner of the kitchen, she smacked my arm in frustration, then pulled me into a heartbroken hug. “If you lose him, are you just going to stop living?” I buried my face in my mom’s chest and didn’t say a word. My mom started crying too. “Our family owes him, but your dad and I can pay it back. My daughter is not allowed to throw her life away on someone who doesn’t love her back.” I nodded at the time, but the second she turned her back, I secretly ran straight to the hospital. Because I owed Tristan. Years ago, during the devastating earthquake that hit our hometown, I was over at his house playing. His mom and I ended up trapped under a collapsed concrete slab. When the rescue teams arrived, Mrs. Sterling insisted they pull me out first. But by the time I woke up in the hospital, she had passed away in the emergency room. I watched Tristan cry until he passed out in front of her grave, and I silently swore to myself that I would live the rest of my life for him. Originally, Tristan used to follow me around everywhere, but after that day, our dynamic completely flipped. I chased after him every single day, happily swallowing whatever bullying or teasing he threw my way. Later, when we got to high school, because of the prominent scar on the center of my forehead and the fact that I only ever hung around Tristan, I became the target of isolation for the entire class. And Chloe was the one who hated me the most. But she was undeniably gorgeous—so gorgeous that Tristan fell for her at first sight. Back then, Tristan was in the AP sciences and I was in the humanities. Our classrooms were on opposite sides of the building, so he made me deliver breakfast to Chloe for him. Every single morning, aside from enduring the bitter heartbreak of playing his wingman, I also had to endure Chloe’s public humiliation. Even though they broke up shortly after, from that point on, Tristan figured out the exact right way to torture me. I watched him cycle through new girlfriends one after another, resigning myself to the fact that this was all we would ever be. Until the beginning of this year, when he got into that car accident. I stayed by his hospital bed day and night for over a month. I thought our relationship was finally shifting into something real, but then Chloe reappeared. She snatched Tristan away again, delivering a brutal blow right to my head. 4 Probably because I had been a depressed zombie for too long, my best friend Maya couldn’t stand it anymore. One morning, she kicked my door in, dragged me into the bathroom to shower and do my makeup, and announced she was taking me out to find a man. “Clara, did Tristan put a hex on you?! I just don’t get it. Finding a three-legged toad is hard, but finding a two-legged man is the easiest thing in the world!” I forced a painfully awkward smile, having absolutely no intention of explaining my long, agonizing history with him. “Clara, are you even listening to me?” “I’m listening,” I mumbled vaguely, though I hadn’t absorbed a single word. Maya saw right through my fake enthusiasm, rolled her eyes, and shoved me out the door. Like a puppet on strings, I let her drag me through the mall for hours. Three hours later, as I was using the ultra-spicy Korean BBQ as an excuse to let my tears and snot flow freely, Maya suddenly clutched her stomach, claiming she had cramps. I literally couldn’t spare my mouth to speak, so I just waved her away, gesturing for her to hurry back. But just as I refocused my attention on the grilling meat, a massive shadow fell over the table. I looked up. A breathtakingly handsome guy, easily 6’2″, slid into the booth right across from me. “This seat is taken,” I warned him. The handsome guy cleared his throat, showing absolutely zero self-awareness to leave. “Hi, Clara. I’m the… uh…” He didn’t seem very familiar with his own script. He glanced down at a cheat sheet in his hand before remembering. “The boyfriend-for-hire your best friend booked. I’m Ethan.” My eyes practically bulged out of my head. I hastily swallowed my food, grabbed Ethan’s phone, and stared at the booking page with tears streaming down my face from the spicy food. “So your username is… Thunderous Invincible Underpants?” Could he actually survive in the companion-for-hire industry with a name like that? His mouth twitched. He clearly wasn’t thrilled about the name either, but he gritted his teeth and nodded. My phone dinged twice. I lit up the screen, and a custom meme from Maya popped up. “Enjoy the boy toy, stay safe. Ps: You’re welcome.” Stay safe?! Is that something you actually say out loud?! Sitting right in front of this incredibly handsome guy, a literal snot bubble blew out of my nose in sheer frustration. Ethan considerately slid a napkin across the table. But before I could even try to explain that this was a massive misunderstanding, he accurately guessed what I was about to say. He leaned his forearms on the table, a smirk tugging at his lips, and stared at me with wide, innocent puppy-dog eyes. “I’m just a small business owner, Clara. No refunds.” As he spoke, he tapped the screen, pointing to the massive non-refundable deposit Maya had paid. Holy crap, two thousand dollars? Did Maya sell a kidney?! “Fine.” After staring at it forever, I helplessly pulled out my phone. “What’s your server rank?” I assumed “boyfriend-for-hire” just meant a gaming buddy to carry me in matches. Since the money was already gone, I figured I might as well get some gaming out of it. Instead, Ethan pulled out a set of car keys. “Come on, we don’t play cheap games like that.” Two minutes later, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the restaurant doors. He opened the passenger door, resting one hand on the roof, and tilted his head at me. “Get in.” Before I could even formulate a rejection, I was smoothly bundled into the passenger seat. By the time I regained my senses, Ethan was already in the driver’s seat, leaning halfway across my body to buckle my seatbelt for me. He was so close. The warm glow of the streetlights washed over his face, and I could even see the slight flutter of his eyelashes. I instinctively shrank back. “I can do it myself…” He didn’t even look up. He slowly and deliberately clicked the belt into place, as if what he was doing was the most natural thing in the world. “If you can do everything yourself, what do you need me for?” My heart involuntarily seized with pain. A long time ago, Tristan had said those exact same words to me. One second he had been flirting with Chloe, but the moment he saw me twist my ankle, he aggressively insisted on taking me home. I tactfully told him I could walk myself. Annoyed by my rejection, he forcefully shoved me onto the back of his bicycle. “Clara, if you can do everything yourself, what do you need me for?” When those words left his mouth back then, both of us froze. We didn’t speak another word the entire way home. His erratic hot-and-cold behavior constantly made it impossible for me to tell the difference between his genuine care and his toxic games. To the point where, for fifteen years, stepping forward led to heartbreak, and stepping back left me suffocating with regret. 5 Boom. A brilliant firework exploded against the horizon. Without me even noticing, Ethan had driven us all the way to the Santa Monica Pier. Massive blooms of fireworks lit up the night sky, absolutely breathtaking. But when the sky faded back to dark, an inevitable wave of emptiness washed over me. Ethan must have noticed. Leaning against the pier railing, he broke my train of thought. “Clara, want to hold onto a firework?” I was surprised, not even realizing he had dropped the formalities and just called me by my name. “Hold onto a firework?” He nodded, his sharp jawline dipping in and out of the shadows as the next round of fireworks illuminated the sky. “How do I do that?” I asked. He gave a mysterious smile, took a step closer, and a clean, crisp cologne washed over me. It was subtle, and surprisingly, I didn’t hate it. Then I watched as he pulled a sparkler right from behind my ear like a magic trick. I burst out laughing. “Your agency… I mean, your company trains you guys pretty well.” He scratched his nose, grinning with a touch of smug arrogance. “I’ll just take that as a compliment.” I took the sparkler and looked up at him. “Thank you. Honestly, I was having a really miserable day today…” Before I could finish my sentence, the two exact culprits responsible for my miserable day suddenly walked into my line of sight. They spotted me almost instantly. Chloe waved enthusiastically. “Clara! Is that your boyfriend?” Chloe dragged Tristan over by the hand. But in sharp contrast to her glowing smile, Tristan’s face looked absolutely murderous. He shot Ethan a cold, piercing glare, then snapped his head toward me. “What are you doing wandering around so late with some sketchy guy?” The unlit sparkler froze stiffly in my hand. I had actually told Tristan countless times that I wanted to come to the pier to watch the fireworks. But year after year, I came alone, and I went home alone. He was truly a master at dealing out disappointment. Faced with his hostile interrogation, my expression went ice cold. “The sketchiest guy I’ve ever known is you.” He choked on his words, his brows knitting together, ready to lecture me. Even though he was technically two months younger than me, around him, I always felt like a subservient child. “Come back with me.” He reached out, trying to grab my arm. I instinctively recoiled from his touch. But the very next second, a heavy warmth draped over my shoulders. Ethan had wrapped his jacket around me and pulled me directly into his chest. The ocean breeze whipped his jacket around us. In the freezing tension, Ethan gave a rogue, insolent smirk. “A guy’s girlfriend should be taken home by her own guy, right, senior?” And then I watched as Tristan’s face turned completely black. 6 Ethan kept his arm around me and walked me straight toward that aggressively flashy Maybach. Just as I buckled my seatbelt, Chloe came jogging up to the car. Wearing a polite, flawlessly sweet smile, she leaned down against the passenger window. Her low-cut top offered a very deliberate, peek-a-boo view of her cleavage. “Hey handsome, I saw you bought sparklers. Could I get one?” I don’t know exactly when it started, but Chloe developed a sick obsession with stealing things from me—and she succeeded nine times out of ten. I instinctively clenched my fists, terrified that Ethan was about to become her newest trophy. But this time, I was dead wrong. “No.” “Excuse me?” She clearly had never experienced the concept of being rejected by a man before, her mouth falling open in exaggerated, soap-opera shock. I looked up just in time to see Ethan slam the car door shut, brutally mocking her. “What, you don’t have a man to buy them for you?” Without another word, he slammed on the gas, peeling out and splashing mud all over Chloe’s designer shoes. It was petty, but God, was it satisfying. On the drive back, I tried to fill the silence. “You called him senior back there. You know Tristan?” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. His face didn’t show much emotion, but there was a distinct, simmering hostility underneath. “Yeah. He tore up a love letter of mine once.” That was when I learned that the three of us all went to the same high school. Except Ethan was two years below me. He was currently a junior in college. Thinking back to what an absolute, arrogant terror Tristan was in high school… Yeah, it made sense that he made enemies. I tried to offer a few comforting words, and before I knew it, we were parked outside my apartment. “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely make sure Maya leaves you a five-star review.” He looked a little speechless but smiled, thanked me, and walked me up to my door. But the moment I walked inside, my phone buzzed. It was a friend request from Tristan. “Who is that guy?” I didn’t reply. A few minutes later, he sent another text. “Are you done throwing this tantrum?” Ah. So a month of agonizing heartbreak was, in his eyes, just me throwing a little tantrum. My chest ached. I typed back: “You said it yourself. Whoever reaches out first is a pathetic loser.” There was no reply after that. I waited a few minutes, then set my phone down with a massive sigh of relief. It felt like… rejecting him wasn’t actually that hard after all. 7 After graduating college, I got a job as an editor for a web novel publisher. The office was pretty far from my house, and I didn’t want to waste my life commuting, so I told my parents I wanted to rent an apartment near work. They assumed I just wanted to avoid bumping into Tristan every day, so they enthusiastically agreed. My dad even slipped me an extra five hundred dollars, telling me he’d rather I rent a slightly more expensive place in a safer neighborhood. So after the holidays, I moved to a complex on the south side of the city. Maya originally promised to help me move, but she got stuck working mandatory overtime, so she sent Ethan instead. “I saw you had a ton of boxes, and I still have two hours left on that boyfriend-for-hire voucher. Might as well use it, right?” I laughed, thinking about how unbelievably unlucky the guy was to get booked for manual labor. But Ethan didn’t show a single ounce of impatience. Weekend traffic was terrible. He told me to wait inside and that he’d be there soon. I felt bad making him do all the work, so I decided to start hauling boxes down to the sidewalk myself. Just as I carried the third box out, Tristan walked up the street. “Where are you going?” I can’t perfectly describe the feeling. I admit that seeing him again still caused a tiny ripple in my deadened heart, but that fearless courage to walk through fire for him? It was completely, permanently gone. Honestly… he was just kind of annoying now. “Moving,” I answered dismissively. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his brow furrowing. I didn’t want to engage, so I just kept my head down and adjusted the box. Seeing me ignore him, Tristan’s garbage temper flared up again. He slammed his hand down on the box I was trying to lift, striking a pose that clearly said he wasn’t moving until I answered him. My anger instantly flared. “Tristan, do you need something?” His voice rose to match mine. “I can’t talk to you unless I need something?!” “Right!” He froze. I froze too. I let out a long breath, smoothing out my tangled emotions. “If you don’t need anything, stop coming to find me. If you do need something… go find Chloe. You only ever believe her anyway, right?” I screamed at him, and he looked genuinely stunned. His voice actually sounded a little wounded. “When have I ever not believed you?” When did you ever? During our senior year of high school, the class funds went missing. While the teacher was rushing to check the security cameras, Chloe publicly started a rumor that I stole the money. Her reasoning? I was the poorest kid in class, and two days prior, my mom had knitted me a brand-new scarf. She insisted the scarf was bought with stolen money. Even though the teacher told everyone not to accuse anyone before the footage was reviewed, Chloe and her little minions locked me in a storage closet, demanding I hand over the $78 class fund. I still remember the exact moment Tristan kicked the storage room door open and hurled a basketball at one of the girls. My heart swelled with desperate hope, waiting for him to defend me. But the words that actually left his mouth were: “How much did she take? I’ll pay it back for her.” See? It only took $78 to completely shatter a girl’s dignity. Tristan had never, not for a single second, truly believed in me. In that exact moment, I dropped all my expectations of him and learned that the only person you can ever rely on is yourself. That was also the very first time I told Tristan I didn’t want to like him anymore. I yanked the final cardboard box out from under his hand. “Go home. I can move my own things.” My icy attitude made Tristan’s face sink further and further. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but was interrupted by a sudden voice. “Looks lively over here. Need a hand, beautiful?” 8 Honestly, when the car pulled up to my new apartment complex, I was still a little dazed. When Ethan arrived earlier, he instantly stepped right between me and Tristan, looking less like a guy hired to help me move and more like a guy ready to throw a punch for me. But before I could dwell on it, a more pressing question popped into my head. “Does moving furniture cost extra?” I remembered that physical labor wasn’t listed on their company’s service menu. Maya was loaded, but as a junior editor, two thousand dollars was my entire month’s rent. Ethan laughed, unbuckled his seatbelt, crossed his arms playfully, and sized me up. “Of course it does. You weren’t planning on getting my services for free, were you?” My heart skipped a beat. “H… how much?” I swear, if it was over five hundred dollars, I was abandoning the car and fleeing on foot. He stared right at me, his eyes practically drowning me in warm, liquid amber. He stared so intensely I actually got scared. He leaned closer and closer, and right when I thought he was going to kiss me, he looked down and laughed, flashing two faint dimples. “Look how scared you are. Just buy me lunch, okay? I’ve been starving all morning.” I paused, then eagerly agreed. So after moving the boxes, we went to a trendy Korean BBQ spot. I have to admit, being young is great. Not only did we use his student discount, but we turned heads the entire time. Of course, it was mostly because Ethan was ridiculously handsome, which meant I caught the crossfire of all that attention. Someone inevitably started whispering about my face. “Look at that girl. She has a massive scar on her head. Why doesn’t she just get plastic surgery?” “Who knows, probably can’t afford it. But that guy is so hot, why would he ever go for an ugly freak like her?” The needle-sharp insults made my stomach drop. I reached for my head—crap, I forgot to wear a hat today. After the accident, my dad considered getting me reconstructive surgery. But my mom was running the little store by herself, money was tight, and my dad’s injured leg required expensive physical therapy. I felt too guilty burdening them, so I just kept putting the surgery off. I frantically tried to pull my bangs down to cover it. Right at that moment, Ethan suddenly leaned across the table. His long, elegant fingers gently tapped my forehead, stopping my panicked movements. “Please, scars are incredibly cool. You have to be so lucky to grow little wings right on your forehead.” A gruesome, jagged scar, yet he described it with such beautiful, romantic poetry. He tucked the loose strands of hair behind my ear, handling me as gently as if I were a priceless, fragile treasure. This was the very first time in my life someone told me I didn’t need to hide my ugly scar. The girls at the next table were still whispering and giggling. Ethan stood up straight, his brows instantly knitting together in fury. He walked over, leaned both hands heavily on their table, and stared dead into the eyes of the loudest girl. Her face instantly flushed bright red. “Are… are you looking for me?” He flashed a vicious grin, and under her awestruck gaze, he slowly spoke: “Yeah. Just coming over to hear the garbage you’re talking.” The girl froze. I froze too. Her friend panicked, glaring at Ethan and snapping, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything! You might be handsome, but your mouth is absolutely toxic!” Ethan laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so you do understand that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” “Why is it okay for you to talk trash behind someone’s back, but it’s not okay for me to insult you to your face?” The girl choked, but immediately shot back: “Even if we were wrong, you’re a guy! How can you be so classless and verbally attack women like that?” Ethan let out a cold scoff. “Sorry, I only reserve my manners for people I actually like.” As he said it, he turned his head and looked right at me, before turning back to the girl: “As for you, take a good look in the mirror and ask yourself if you even deserve basic respect.” By this point, several waiters had rushed over. I didn’t want to make a huge scene, so I tugged gently on Ethan’s sleeve. “Let it go. I’m used to it.” Ethan wanted to say more, but sensing my plea, he swept a final, glacial glare over the two women, then tenderly ruffled my hair. “No one has the right to define a person by their appearance, and no one has the right to use appearance as a weapon to hurt others. Clara, I know exactly how incredible you are. Do not waste a single second feeling sad over trash like them.” I listened in a daze. A rush of heat flooded my chest, followed by an inexplicable wave of sorrow. Because I suddenly realized that Tristan had never, ever said anything like that to me. Even though every time he saw someone mocking my scar, he would aggressively chase them away, afterward, he would only ever look at me coldly and say: “Clara, pull your hat down.” He and Tristan were so completely, fundamentally different. A few minutes later, the manager’s apologies pulled me back to reality. They moved us to a private booth and gave us a free plate of prime rib as an apology, so I didn’t push the issue. After we ate, he walked me home. We strolled side-by-side down the sidewalk. He linked his hands behind his head and gave a massive stretch. As he moved, his black hoodie rode up, revealing a flash of toned abs. I happened to catch a glimpse, and my face instantly caught fire. Ethan noticed my sudden awkwardness, took a quick step forward, and blocked my path. “What’s wrong, beautiful?” A teasing half-smile played on his lips. He absolutely knew I saw. I cleared my throat, quickly changing the subject to thank him for lunch. But I forgot that if you give this guy an inch, he takes a mile. “If you really want to thank me, go on a date with me next time.” “A date?” “There’s a new amusement park opening up. My little brother won three VIP tickets and is forcing me to go. I refuse to be the third wheel to him and his girlfriend, so I need to find someone to come with me.” He leaned down, biting his lip, putting on his best pathetic, abused-puppy act. “Clara, being a single dog abandoned by a gross, overly-affectionate couple is incredibly depressing. Have mercy on me.” I wanted to point out that he could just not go, but staring into his dazzling, star-filled eyes, I couldn’t find a single reason to say no.

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