Category: English

In my eighth year as a Holt, my husband brought home his first love—his ‘one that got away.’ Michelle was the picture of innocence, yet bold and sharp. Despite being buried in debt, her gentle, kind nature won over the entire Holt family. My husband, Harrison, began courting her again, treating her with a tenderness I had never seen. Even my own two children decided this kind ‘Auntie Michelle’ would make a better mother than I ever did. But I wasn’t sad. In fact, I was thrilled. It meant my part in this novel was finally over. 1. So, when my daughter, Annie, stood before me with a look of disgust, demanding I apologize to her precious, kind Auntie Michelle, I didn’t even glance at her. I just calmly snipped an errant branch from the flowers in the vase. “Mom, if you don’t apologize, Leo and I won’t call you our mother anymore!” “Fine,” I said, my voice flat. “Then don’t.” I no longer cared about this daughter whose loyalty had shifted so easily. I remembered how I nearly died giving birth to her. I remembered humbling myself, begging the most famous art masters in the country to teach her piano, ballet, and art history, just so she would have skills to stand on her own. I’d pleaded with Harrison for months to allow her to receive the same heir training as our son. I had given her everything. But ever since Michelle arrived, it all changed. Michelle said children shouldn’t be crushed by tutoring, encouraging Annie to go out and play with her friends. And just like that, Annie stopped going to her lessons, spending her days shopping for clothes with Michelle instead. Since she had chosen that path, I wouldn’t stand in her way. After all, I was just the villainous side character in this book. My storyline was complete, and the System, pleased with my performance, had gone to collect my bonus. In two weeks, at most, it would take me back to my own world. I set down the shears and finally glanced at her, my expression a placid mask. Annie’s small face crumpled in discomfort, a flash of panic in her eyes. It was likely the first time in her life I had ever flatly refused her. But she recovered quickly. She lifted her chin, smugly showing off the makeup and pretty dress Michelle had bought for her. She even spun in a circle, making sure I got a good look. “Auntie Michelle gave me all of this. Isn’t it beautiful?” “You never let me touch this stuff before. You said I was too young, that it would rot my mind. You forced me to study and take lessons, and you’d smack my hands if I didn’t listen. You were always pushing me to perform on stage. You just treated me like a product, you never gave me any dignity!” Her accusations were so absurd, I almost laughed. Michelle must have fed her those lines. I had been terrified that, as a girl, she would be overlooked by the Holt family and married off without a thought. That’s why I brought her to every gala, gave her every opportunity to shine on stage, and taught her how to navigate high society. And now, after two cheap gifts from Michelle, she had devalued all my efforts to nothing. Did she have any idea how much of myself I had poured into her? Seeing my silence, Annie’s cheeks puffed out in anger. “You don’t really love me!” “Auntie Michelle is the one who’s truly good to me! She doesn’t wake me up at dawn to memorize texts and do practice exams. She buys me new clothes, tells me bedtime stories, and takes me to amusement parks! She’s a thousand times better than you!” “And Dad already said it! He’s going to marry Auntie Michelle and divorce you soon!” With a final, furious shout, Annie swept the vase off the table, sending it shattering to the floor before storming out. Even though I had resolved to let go of everything here, her words still left a bitter ache in my throat. I couldn’t help but wonder: was the heroine’s halo really so powerful that it could erase years of my devotion in an instant? Or was it because I was the villain, and everything I did was destined to be wrong? When Harrison first brought Michelle home, I hadn’t paid it much mind. It was only when they started their secret affair that I understood. In his heart, I had always been nothing more than Michelle’s substitute. And Michelle, armed with her protagonist’s luck, had charmed the entire Holt family in record time. My children, already resentful of my strict discipline, were easily swayed by her timely encouragement to rebel. As for Harrison, he’d shown me a sliver of respect at first. But then Michelle was mysteriously given laxatives. Soon after, she was pushed into the swimming pool and nearly drowned. She even had an allergic reaction at dinner. All signs pointed to me, and Harrison nearly tore my room apart, threatening divorce if I didn’t apologize. Furious, I’d snapped and called Michelle a homewrecker. Harrison slapped me so hard I stumbled back, knocking over a vase myself. Shards of porcelain sliced deep into my legs. The wounds were bandaged, but the pain kept me awake all night. This morning, I had finally forced myself out of bed, hoping some simple flower arranging would lift my spirits. That’s when Annie had burst in. I had been gritting my teeth through the pain the whole time she was here; now, it was unbearable. The System was unreachable. I had already used up all the advanced medicine I’d bought from its store on Harrison and the kids. The nanny who had cared for me for years had been fired by Harrison, and he’d forbidden anyone from taking me to a hospital. The only person allowed in my room now was Michelle’s personal maid, Brenda, and I wouldn’t dare touch the medicine she brought. I was a forgotten woman. The morning passed, and no one even brought me a meal. I dug out a tarnished old ring from the bottom of a chest and sighed at it. Around noon, a servant finally brought lunch. It was meager, but I wasn’t picky. I took one bite and immediately spat it out. Lavender. Everyone in the Holt household knew I was severely allergic to lavender. Michelle was doing this on purpose. Just as I was about to have the servant take it away, Harrison kicked the door open and stormed in. He was seething, and with another kick, he sent the small table flying. He glared at me, his brow furrowed in fury. “You almost killed Michelle, and I told you to apologize. Not only do you put on this pathetic act, but you spit out the food she made for you in the kitchen herself? How can a person be as venomous as you!” I lay on the bed, looking up at him with an unnerving calm. This only enraged him further. He lunged forward, his hand closing around my throat. “What? Is it so hard for you to just listen to me?” For eight years in this world, I had dutifully played my part, pouring my entire being into Harrison and our two children. If they had just accepted me, truly accepted me, I could have stayed with them forever. Before the heroine appeared, I had tried so hard to be a good mother and a loving wife, to win them over with genuine affection. But now… I shook my head and gave a bitter smile, looking at the man who was once my husband. “Harrison, I’ve told you a dozen times. I didn’t harm her. It was all her own little drama.” He stared back, his eyes cold and full of disbelief. Looking at his face, I took a deep breath and suddenly lost the energy to explain. “I know you have cameras all over this mansion. If you really wanted to know the truth, you could have found it. You’re just tired of me.” “Since you’ve already decided I’m guilty, what difference does an apology make?” Harrison froze, his expression faltering. For a moment, he looked pained, and his grip on my neck loosened. But then, as if remembering something, the pity in his eyes vanished, replaced by rage. “I thought you genuinely loved me, that you were willing to sacrifice for me. I never imagined you were this jealous, this malicious!” “Michelle is so kind. How could you bring yourself to hurt her?” “From now on,” he snarled, turning to the door, “no one is to bring the missus any medicine. And she is not to take one step out of this room. Not until the pain is too much for her to bear and she agrees to apologize to Michelle!” He waited, expecting to see regret or fear on my face. But I remained perfectly still. Harrison left. The air in the room was heavy. Brenda walked in and, seeing the overturned food, feigned surprise. “Oh, Madam, why did you spit out your porridge? How will you get better if you don’t eat?” “If the food wasn’t to your liking, you should have said something. I’ll have the kitchen make you a new batch right away.” She glanced at me, a smirk playing on her lips. Her voice was laced with sarcasm as she slowly cleaned up, deliberately bringing up my son, Leo. “You’ve been cooped up in here, so you probably don’t know. Master Leo was playing in the yard yesterday and called Miss Michelle ‘Mommy.’” “And to think of all your hard work over the years. Both your children refuse to acknowledge you. What a failure of a mother you are…” Her eyes shifted mockingly to my knees. “I heard your bones were broken. Without that special medicine, you’ll probably never stand up again, will you?” I let out a cold laugh. “I am the wife of the CEO of Holt Industries and the daughter of the chairman of Vance Corporation. What rotten vegetable are you to dare gossip about me?” I pretended not to see the flash of hatred in Brenda’s eyes and focused on straightening my legs. She shot me a venomous glare and then, as if remembering something, she strutted out of the room. In my current state, I started to wonder if I would even live long enough for the System to return. If Harrison tortured me to death before it got back, would I still be able to go home? A week passed. The food they sent became more and more careless. Sometimes it was just a bowl of thin gruel; other times, it was spoiled leftovers. I didn’t dare touch any of it. I secretly sent a note to a young maid, Wendy, whom I had helped before, giving her money to sneak me some instant noodles and bottled water. A few more days went by. Just as the System was about to transport me home, Michelle’s arrival interrupted the process. She entered with a retinue of servants, her chin high, her eyes full of arrogance. “Eleanor, dear. Such a pity about my leg injury. I can’t take care of you myself.” Suddenly, she wrinkled her nose as if smelling something foul. “How are these servants taking care of Mrs. Holt? There’s a strange smell in this room. If Harrison finds out…” She trailed off, a sly smile on her lips. “Then again, what if he does? He won’t even let you go to the hospital. Why would he care about a little mess? Right, Eleanor?” I looked past her and saw Annie and Leo standing behind her. They were clutching her clothes affectionately, their expressions a mixture of disgust and confusion as they looked at me. Annie stepped forward, her voice sharp. “Mother, all Auntie Michelle wants is a sincere apology. Who are you putting on this stubborn act for? No matter how much you deny it, you can’t hide the fact that you hurt her!” Leo’s round face was scrunched up in a frown. He couldn’t even be bothered to look at me. “Mom, you’re so evil!” Evil? I almost choked on a laugh. Leo had been a mischievous child. I had spent a fortune on the best tutors to teach him how to be a decent human being, to instill in him a basic moral compass. I glanced at the servants’ sons standing near him, boys who had grown up as his companions. They used to get along so well. Now, their arms were covered in angry red scratches from a ballpoint pen. Michelle noticed my gaze and giggled. “Leo is just a bit naughty. He loves playing a game with his friends called ‘You scratch me, I scratch you.’ But all little boys are like that. You’re far too strict, Eleanor.” Leo nodded vigorously, his chubby cheeks bunching up as he grinned. He had poor self-control, so I had always managed his diet to prevent health problems from obesity. Michelle, however, plied him with chips, cakes, and other junk food, and let him skip his meals. Now, Leo was short for his age but as wide as a tank. I didn’t even want to acknowledge he was my son. I looked at Michelle. “Did you come here just to show off how popular you are?” Though my heart ached, I knew you couldn’t force a bond. I had given them my all, and they had still chosen to be ruined by her. What could I do but respect their fate? “I never knew you were so heartless, Eleanor. Your own children have disowned you, and you don’t even care.” I shook my head and looked at my two children. “I can honestly say that from the moment you were born, I have cared for your every need. From your daily life to your education, I gave you nothing but the best.” I sighed. “Since you don’t want it, I won’t force it on you. If you want to call Michelle your mother, then so be it. I won’t fight your father for custody. She can be your mother in name.” As I finished speaking, Leo and Annie’s eyes went wide with disbelief. They probably never imagined I could be so resolute. Annie’s lip began to tremble, and she looked ready to cry. Michelle shot a look at a nearby maid, who quickly bent down and whispered to the children. “What mother would ever abandon her own children? She’s just testing you, trying to get you to admit you were wrong.” “Don’t worry. Just give her the cold shoulder for a few more days, and she’ll be begging you to come back. Do you really want to go back to doing homework and lessons every day?” At that, Leo let out a dismissive “Hmph,” convinced I was acting. “Stop pretending, Mom! You’re just like Dad said, always acting like you’re so nice. If you’re so tough, then ignore us forever!” Leo made a face at me, grabbed Annie’s hand, and ran off. “Are you happy now?” I asked Michelle. “Happy?” Michelle sat on the edge of my bed and leaned in, whispering in my ear. “This isn’t nearly enough to get you kicked out of the Holt family.” Before she could finish, she let out a piercing scream and threw herself backward, landing perfectly in the arms of Harrison, who had just rushed into the room. Such exquisite acting. A real shame she wasn’t pursuing a career in Hollywood. But, of course, some people are blind. Seeing this, Harrison didn’t hesitate, his hand flying up to strike me. If I hadn’t dodged, I’m sure the blow would have deafened me. Seeing me scramble away on the bed, Harrison seemed to snap out of it. He stared at his hand for a moment, then frowned. “The missus is malicious and has attempted to take a life. Lock her in the attic. She will kneel for a day and a night. Without my permission, no one is to bring her food. Anyone who disobeys can get out of the Holt family.” He paused, a flicker of conflict on his face. After a few seconds, he added, “If you agree to apologize to Michelle, I can be lenient…” Before he could finish, I cut him off. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Holt. But I won’t admit to something I didn’t do. It’s just kneeling, isn’t it? I’ll go.” The System would be back in a day anyway. There was no need to keep up the charade with this man. Harrison’s face became a kaleidoscope of colors, shifting from green to white. “Don’t you regret this!” he threatened. I met his gaze calmly, a cold smirk on my lips. “I won’t.” He stared at my expression, momentarily dazed. But his attention was quickly drawn back to Michelle, who was sobbing in his arms. “Someone, take Mrs. Holt to the attic.” With that, he swept Michelle into his arms and walked out, never looking back. Brenda couldn’t stop smiling. “You heard Mr. Holt. Madam, you’d better get to the attic. It’s drafty on all four sides, and it’s winter now. I do hope you survive the night.” I pulled a down jacket from the closet and put it on. I paused, staring at the ring on my dresser, and after a moment’s thought, I slipped it on my finger. The attic was colder than I imagined. It had snowed a few days ago, and even bundled up, the wind cut through me, making me shiver uncontrollably. I don’t know how long I knelt there, enduring the bone-deep ache, when I heard whispers at the small door. “Madam? Madam, can you hear us?” “Did she freeze? Oh no, if she stays in the attic any longer, she’ll…” It was Wendy and her younger sister, Lily. I massaged my numb legs and pushed myself up, leaning against the wall to get to the door. “What are you crying for? I’m not dead yet. Now go, before Michelle’s people find you.” Wendy had been with me since I first married into the family. Hearing my voice, she almost broke down completely. “Madam, just wait. I’ll find a way to save you.” “I brought bread and hot water. Please, eat something.” Lily passed the food through the crack in the door. I devoured it ravenously, the food finally soothing the gnawing emptiness in my stomach. “Don’t come back here again. There are a few gold bracelets in my nightstand. Take them and split them.” Wendy’s sobs grew louder. Afraid Michelle’s spies would discover them, I told a lie. “Don’t worry about me. They can’t do anything to me. I’ve already sent a letter to my parents. I’m going to divorce Harrison as soon as I leave this house.” Seeing that I had a plan, Wendy and Lily finally left, still crying. I was so cold I started to drift in and out of consciousness. Just when I thought I couldn’t hold on any longer, the System finally returned.

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On our anniversary, my boyfriend brought his “relationship coach” for a three-person date. I exploded. “What are you thinking?” He shrugged. “Ava helped us. Why shouldn’t she celebrate with us?” “Stop making a scene,” he added. “She doesn’t mind.” The audacity made me faint. I woke alone on a theater bench. Michael and Ava were huddled over his phone. “Maybe I should go,” she fake-whispered. “She’s faking for attention,” he said. I texted him: “Three’s a crowd. I’m out.” His phone pinged. He didn’t look up. I laughed bitterly and walked away—not knowing someone had been waiting to replace me. 1 I pulled out my phone and called the guy who had been patiently waiting in the wings. “I’m looking to celebrate my anniversary with someone else. Are you free?” There was a two-second pause on the other end, followed by a triumphant shout that nearly blew out my eardrum. “BE—RIGHT—THERE—” After hanging up, the faint sound of laughter from across the lobby made the emotions I’d been suppressing erupt. My heart clenched with a sharp, familiar pain. Michael and I had been together for three years. His secretary, Ava, had been his self-proclaimed “relationship coach” for two of them. Every single important date, every holiday I looked forward to, Michael would find some excuse to bring her along. I had fought, I had cried, but all it ever got me was the silent treatment from him and an even more blatant display of their “friendship.” The ridiculous thing was, I couldn’t bring myself to let go. But in that moment, waking up on that bench, I suddenly realized how pointless it all was. I was done. I had just sat down at a Starbucks when my phone started buzzing incessantly. It was Michael. Hannah, can you stop being so unreasonable? You’re making Ava really upset! You have two minutes to get back here. The same old lines. I was sick of hearing them. I don’t want a boyfriend with no boundaries. We’re done. After the message sent, I quickly blocked his number and all his social media. A wave of relief washed over me. I ordered my favorite Frappuccino and settled in by the window to enjoy a rare moment of singlehood. I was staring out the window, lost in thought, when Michael’s angry voice suddenly boomed in my ear. “Hannah, what is your problem? You’re breaking up with me because Ava watched a movie with us?” “You’ve threatened to break up a hundred times. Aren’t you tired of playing these games?” I froze. This mall was huge. How did he find me so fast? Before I could figure it out, Ava’s sickly-sweet voice piped up. “Hannah, there’s really nothing going on between Michael and me. You don’t have to fight with him over me every time. He’s so good to you. You have no idea how much I envy you.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Right, ‘nothing.’ You just share every detail of your days, she touches your face, you hold her hand, and you two occasionally share a milkshake. Totally normal friend stuff!” My words shut her up. Her face flushed a deep red as she mumbled, “That’s what friends do. It’s not a big deal.” Michael immediately jumped to her defense. “Ava’s right. You’re overreacting. You’re so petty! You should learn to be more understanding, like Ava.” His words reminded me of when we first got together. He had held me and promised that I just needed to be myself, that I never had to change for him. He loved the whole me, not just the good parts. Now, in his eyes, Ava was the good one. I was the bad one. The thought drained all the fight out of me. I turned my head and ignored them both. 2 Seeing my silence, Michael’s patience wore thin. “Fine,” he snapped, his face a mask of annoyance. “Sit here and sulk by yourself. See if I care.” With that, he took Ava’s hand and stormed off. Watching their intertwined fingers, a lump formed in my throat. Michael used to cherish my hand just like that. He knew I had a phobia of crossing busy streets after a childhood car accident, so he would always grip my hand tightly, carefully shielding me as we navigated the traffic. When I fainted from exhaustion after working overtime, he held my hand by my hospital bed, just so he’d be the first to know when I woke up. I was prone to nightmares, so he held my hand every night as we slept, a silent promise that he was there, that I didn’t need to be afraid. Then Ava appeared, and his hand slowly let go of mine. It made sense. A hand holding someone else’s can’t hold yours at the same time. A wave of sadness threatened to overwhelm me. I quickly grabbed my phone and opened a short video app to distract myself. But of course, the damn algorithm recommended one of Ava’s videos. In it, she and Michael were sitting in a dimly lit movie theater. She was happily holding a bucket of popcorn while he stroked her head, smiling and making a peace sign for the camera. The caption read: A special day, a special movie with my favorite person. It was sickeningly sweet and deeply ambiguous. I couldn’t resist. I clicked on her profile and scrolled through her videos. Michael was in almost all of them, and he had liked every single one. Was this the same Michael who told me he hated having his picture taken and never liked anyone’s posts? The same Michael who refused to ever appear on my social media and had never once liked a single thing I posted. Smack. I slammed my phone down on the table, fury coursing through me. Tears, hot and angry, streamed down my face. As I fumbled in my bag for a tissue, a familiar, exasperated voice sounded from above me. Michael sighed, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “Why do you do this to yourself? It’s not worth getting so worked up over something so small.” “Hannah, Ava and I are just good friends. Can’t you stop being so hostile towards her? I promise, from now on, I’ll ask for your permission before I bring her out.” I looked up at him, at the man who had left and now returned, and hid the flicker of sadness in my eyes. “Michael, you made that exact same promise to me three days ago. And this is the 38th time you’ve made it in the past two years.” “You know you can’t keep it, so why do you keep lying to me? Do you enjoy watching me get my hopes up just to be disappointed again and again?” I knew this anniversary would be no different. I had specifically told him I wanted it to be just the two of us. He had promised, sworn even, that he wouldn’t bring Ava. But he broke his promise. Again. And in that moment, I finally accepted it. In his heart, Ava was more important than me. Caught in his lie, Michael looked uncomfortable. “I swear, this is the last time. From now on, you will always be my priority.” Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the message, and his expression turned awkward. “Hannah,” he stammered, “I brought Ava out today, so I have to see her home first. Just wait for me here, okay? I’ll be back for you soon.” And with that, he left me again. I let out a cold laugh. The last shred of hope I had for him, for us, vanished completely. 3 Leaving Starbucks, I headed straight for a jewelry store in the mall. I was going to buy myself the gold necklace I’d been eyeing for months to soothe my wounded heart. I was excitedly trying it on when Ava materialized behind me like a ghost. “Hannah, that necklace is beautiful. It’s a little mature for you, though. I think it would suit me better. Too bad it’s so expensive. I could never afford it.” She stared at the necklace around my neck, her eyes glinting with greed. I rolled my eyes. “Whether it suits me or not is irrelevant. What’s important is that I can afford it, and you can’t. What’s the point of it ‘suiting’ you if you’re broke?” My retort made her eyes well up with tears, her lip trembling in a perfect pout. “Hannah, I know you have Michael to buy you whatever you want. But at least the little I have, I earned myself. What right do you have to look down on me?” I almost laughed out loud. So now Ava was implying I was a kept woman, a sugar baby, while simultaneously painting herself as a hardworking, independent woman. I glanced at Michael. He stood there, silent, making no move to defend me. And in that instant, I understood. This misconception of Ava’s had to be his doing. In our three years together, besides exchanging gifts, we had always split our expenses. When he was starting his business, I was the one who covered our living costs, knowing money was tight for him. After he became successful and his assets multiplied, not only did he never thank me for my support, he insisted we go back to splitting everything. And yet, after all that, he was still out there telling people I was living off his money. I was shaking with rage. I handed the necklace to the salesclerk to be boxed up, desperate to get away from these two toxic individuals. I was afraid if I stayed a second longer, I’d literally have an aneurysm. “Wait.” My hand, extended to the clerk, froze in mid-air. I turned to look at Michael. “Get a different one,” he said, his voice flat. “Ava likes this one. I’m buying it for her.” My eyes widened in disbelief. He knew how long I’d wanted this necklace. Just yesterday, he’d told me he was going to buy it for me for our anniversary. I had been excited all night. And now, not only was he not giving it to me, he was taking what I loved and giving it to her. All the hurt and frustration I’d been bottling up exploded. “Why should I let her have it?” I yelled, my voice cracking. “When I was your girlfriend, you favored her. Now that we’ve broken up, you still favor her! Michael, just because I loved you, does that mean I deserve to be treated like this?” Michael’s face was a stony mask. His tone was as cold as ever. “Hannah, it’s just a necklace. Don’t make such a big deal out of it. Ava rarely likes anything. What’s the big deal if I buy it for her this once? I’ve given you plenty of gifts. Why are you being so petty?” “Be more mature. Don’t fight with a young girl over a trinket.” Ava stood beside him, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. “Hannah, if you really like it that much, you can have it. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to make things difficult for Michael.” Watching these two, a tag team of treachery, I ground my teeth in fury. “I’m not giving it to her!” I clutched the necklace box tightly. Michael gave me a long, hard look. Then, he reached out and squeezed my wrist. A sharp, searing pain shot up my arm, making my vision go black. I had no choice but to let go. I leaned against the counter, cradling my throbbing wrist, tears streaming down my face. I have a very low tolerance for pain. A small cut that most people would barely notice could leave me in agony for hours. When Michael first learned this about me, he had been so careful. He padded all the sharp corners in our apartment with foam. He kept comfortable slippers for me in his car, his office, even his backpack, just in case my high heels started to hurt my feet. He even said he never wanted me to go through the pain of childbirth, that we should be child-free forever. Now, all the vulnerabilities he once so tenderly protected had become the blunt instruments he used to stab me in the heart. It hurt. It really, really hurt.

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“When the Brown family empire was on the brink of collapse, Arthur and his wife came to my father, begging for a marriage alliance. My father knew I had been in love with their son, Dale, for ten years. So he did it. He injected ten billion dollars into the Brown Corporation, saving them from ruin and marrying me to the man of my dreams. On our wedding night, Dale blindfolded me with a red silk scarf and took me again and again with a brutal, desperate passion. A month later, I went to find him, clutching a positive pregnancy test, my heart soaring with joy. I found him at a bar with his friends, in the middle of a bet. “So, what do you guys think?” Dale’s voice was slick with amusement. “After April got handled by a dozen of us, whose kid do you think she’s carrying?” His friends roared with laughter. “Come on, Dale, I only had her three times. No way it’s mine.” Another voice chimed in. “I saw how hard Zach was going at it. He practically drove her insane that night. I’ve got a hundred grand says it’s his!” That’s when I realized. The man in my bed on our wedding night hadn’t been Dale. It had been his friends. I stormed in, screaming, demanding to know why. He just shrugged, completely unbothered. “What are you crying about? If you hadn’t used your family’s money to blackmail me into this marriage, forcing Tina to leave the country, would I have done this to you?” “I’ll tell you what,” he sneered, “the day Tina forgives me is the day I let you go.” My heart turned to ash. I demanded a divorce, but he just laughed and threatened me with the video from that night. He locked me in the basement. “Don’t be in such a hurry to leave,” he’d said, his voice a venomous whisper. “My friends and I still have a bet going on whose bastard this is!” Eight months later, I died in childbirth in that basement, my baby dying with me. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn. I was back on the day the Browns came to my father, begging for the ten-billion-dollar bailout and the marriage alliance. This time, on my wedding day, it would be Dale Brown who cried his eyes out. … “April, darling, Dale is very fond of you, you know. If you marry into our family, he’ll be so happy.” I snapped back to the present with a jolt, staring at the earnest faces of Arthur Brown and his wife. I was alive. It was real. I had come back. Mrs. Brown took my hand, her grip soft, her smile painted on. “I know you’ve had a crush on Dale for a decade, sweetie. If our families were to be joined…” My parents exchanged a slightly awkward look. Everyone in the room knew the truth: the Browns were here because they were desperate, their company hemorrhaging money, and my family’s ten-billion-dollar investment was their only lifeline. But they also knew how pathetically in love I had been with Dale. They thought they were granting my deepest wish. But now, my only wish was for him to suffer. I pulled my hand back. “I don’t want to marry Dale Brown,” I said, my voice cutting through the polite chatter. Every head in the room swiveled towards me. The shock was palpable. Me, April Rhodes, the girl who followed Dale around like a devoted puppy, was refusing to marry him? Mrs. Brown’s painted smile faltered. “April, what’s wrong? Did you and Dale have a little fight? I’ll give him a good talking-to when I get home.” I shook my head. “There’s no need.” Arthur Brown, Dale’s father, studied me for a long moment. “Is this because of Tina?” When I didn’t answer, he sighed. “Tina is just a charity case our family sponsored. Dale only treated her well because he felt sorry for her.” He leaned forward, his voice a low, conspiratorial promise. “Don’t you worry. As soon as I get home, I’ll have her sent away. She will never appear in front of Dale again.” He’d said the exact same thing in my last life. And it had earned me Dale’s undying hatred. He blamed me for driving Tina away. It was his excuse for everything, for the wedding night, for gathering a dozen of his friends to defile and torture me. It was his excuse for locking me in the basement when I found out, forcing me to carry a child whose paternity was the subject of a sick betting pool. When my parents, worried sick, had finally come looking for me, Dale had shown them the video from that night. His face was twisted with resentment. “This is the fine daughter you raised!” he’d spat. “Sleeping with so many men behind my back! She’s disgusting!” The video broke them. My mother and father both collapsed, their health failing from the grief and shame. Dale felt no remorse. He brought Tina to see me in my prison, his lips curled in a triumphant sneer. “Once your parents are dead, I’ll take over the Rhodes Corporation and give it to Tina as an apology.” My soul had died long before my body gave out during childbirth. The memory sent a tremor of pure rage through me. My voice was low and shaking. “Dale Brown is not worthy of me.” Arthur’s face stiffened. “While it’s true the Brown Corporation is in a difficult position, if the Rhodes family is willing to invest, I can guarantee you won’t lose a penny!” He wasn’t lying. In my past life, after my parents’ investment, the Browns’ business had boomed. My family had made hundreds of millions in profits without lifting a finger. I had no intention of throwing that money away. “I will agree to the marriage alliance,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “But I will not marry Dale.” I looked directly at Arthur and his wife. “I’ll marry Fred.” The room fell silent. Then Arthur shot to his feet. “Fred?! You mean… Fred?” He stared at me, aghast. “But his legs… he’s paralyzed! He can’t even stand up! April, this is no time for jokes!” My own father rushed to my side. “April! Don’t be foolish!” I placed a calming hand on my father’s arm. Fred Brown was Dale’s uncle, his father’s younger brother, but he was only four years older than Dale. We’d practically grown up together. Then, a car crash had put him in a wheelchair, and he had slowly faded from public life. In my last life, when Dale had me locked in the basement, it was Fred who found me. He’d banged on the door, his voice hoarse, yelling “Don’t be afraid!” over and over. And through the crack in the door, I saw it clearly: his legs weren’t paralyzed at all. Dale had arrived with his thugs and beaten Fred half to death. I remembered Dale’s vicious words. “Still alive, Uncle? I told them to hit you harder. First you tried to steal my father’s business, now you’re trying to steal my woman? You’re pathetic.” Fred hadn’t even been angry. He had knelt before Dale. “Let her go. I’ll do anything you ask.” Dale had just laughed and slammed Fred’s head against the wall again and again. I would never forget the last thing Fred had said to me through the door, his voice broken. “April… I’ve been looking for you for so long.” So, no. Choosing Fred was not foolish at all. It was Dale who was going to pay. My resolve hardened. I looked at the Browns. “My mind is made up. I’m marrying Fred.” Seeing my unwavering determination, they had no choice but to agree. A wave of relief washed over me. Later that day, I went to the jazz bar Fred owned to find him. But standing right outside the entrance were Dale and Tina. The moment Dale saw me, the smile on his face vanished, replaced by a familiar scowl of irritation. “April? God, you’re annoying. Do you have to follow me everywhere?” His friends behind him burst out laughing. “Told you she’d show up tonight!” One of them jeered, “I bet if Dale told her to lick his shoes, she’d drop to her knees right now!” A wicked grin spread across Dale’s face. He looked at me, then pointedly tapped his designer loafer with his toe. A surge of disgust churned in my stomach. I stepped around him. “Get out of my way.” Dale froze, stunned. Then he grabbed my arm. “April, I know all about you using your family’s money to force this marriage. What kind of game are you playing now?” He leaned in, his voice a low sneer. “You think playing hard-to-get will make me look at you twice?” I glanced at him, my expression blank. “I’m not marrying you.” Dale was silent for a beat, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “You’re not? The Rhodes Corporation already wired the ten billion. Are you really still denying it?” He shook his head, his face a mask of contempt. “Do you have any idea how cheap you look, begging me to marry you like this?” I nodded calmly. “I do. That’s why I’m not doing it.” It took a second for my words to sink in. He just stared at me, dumbfounded. Tina chose that moment to speak, her voice a soft, wounded whisper. “Dale, darling… I think April is just upset to see me here. If you don’t marry her, the Brown Corporation will…” She trailed off, letting the threat hang in the air. “Never mind. I’ll just go.” Dale instantly released me and wrapped his arm around her. “Who the hell does she think she is? Even if she gets her wish and marries me, I’ll never love her.” He stroked Tina’s hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll go take our own wedding photos tomorrow. In my heart, you’re the only one who will ever be my wife.” His friends whistled and cheered, calling Tina their “sister-in-law.” Dale shot a smug glance over his shoulder at me, obviously waiting for my heartbroken reaction. In my previous life, he loved to watch me squirm. But now, I felt nothing. “Marry whoever you want,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t care.” As I turned to leave, Tina stepped in front of me. “April, stop pretending. The media already reported on the marriage alliance this afternoon.” She looked down, her voice full of false magnanimity. “I can forgive you for hiring those thugs to humiliate me… but I’m begging you, please… take good care of Dale in the future.” The “thugs” were a complete fabrication, a story she’d invented to make me look bad and play the victim. I had tried to defend myself last time, but Dale never believed me. Now, I couldn’t be bothered to explain. At the mention of it, Dale’s face darkened. He glared at me. “Why are you begging her? A woman like her, who will stop at nothing to get what she wants, is nothing compared to you.” He turned his glare back to me. “This marriage is a business transaction. If I find out you’ve laid a single finger on Tina, I swear I will make you pay…” ”

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1 I was a Nine-Life Lynx, consort to the Celestial Realm’s God of War. In the third year after my death, he finally remembered me. He descended to the mortal world, intending to tear another tail from my body to save his childhood love. The little girl I had once rescued was now an old woman, her hair a cascade of white. She told the God of War that I was already gone. He just scoffed. “If my memory serves, she has two lives left. If you’re going to lie to me, at least make it believable.” He added, his voice dripping with condescension, “Tell her that if she saves Seraphina, she can remain my consort.” Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, fixing on the boy hiding behind the old woman, a boy with a face so strikingly like my own. The child’s expression soured. “Well, well,” Kaelen sneered. “Ten years in the mortal realm and she’s already managed to pop out a child. Since she refuses to show herself, I suppose I’ll have to take it out on her little bastard!” A torrential rain hammered down from the heavens, but where the God of War, Kaelen, stood in his immaculate white robes, not a single drop touched him. He was an island of perfect dryness in the storm. With a brutal tug, he ripped my son from behind Linda. A cruel smirk twisted his lips. “Hah, the resemblance is uncanny. Lyra has done well for herself, hasn’t she? Ten years down here, and she even has a child to show for it.” His voice turned to ice. “When I find out which gutter rat fathered this thing, I will tear him limb from limb!” He extended a finger, tracing a line along my son Finn’s arm. A crimson wound bloomed instantly, weeping blood. Finn let out a piercing wail. As he cried, the gash on his arm slowly began to knit itself closed. “He’s Lyra’s son, all right,” Kaelen declared. “If she won’t crawl out to see me, then I’ll just have to take the tail from her boy instead!” Trembling, Linda threw her cane aside and collapsed to her knees before him. The cold rain soaked her white hair, plastering it to her wrinkled skin. “Lord Kaelen, Lyra… Lyra is truly dead! How can she possibly come to see you?!” Kaelen’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Dead? Don’t be absurd. She has two lives left! Don’t play these pathetic games with me. She heard Seraphina was injured and now she refuses to help. It’s just one tail. It’s not as if I’m asking for her life!” I floated in the air above them, my heart—or the ghost of it—aching with a familiar pang. It was strange. I’d been dead for three years, yet the pain was still so real. My heart ached for Linda, and for my little Finn. Linda crawled forward on her knees, wrapping her frail arms around Finn. “My lord, I am not lying. Lyra died three years ago.” Kaelen’s laugh was a cold, sharp thing. “So, you choose the hard way.” He seized Finn, lifting him into the air with an invisible force. He then bellowed towards the small cottage, “Lyra, I am giving you one chance. If you don’t get out here right now, I will take it out on your son. They’re both Nine-Life Lynxes. One tail is as good as another!” Suspended in the air, Finn choked on the driving rain, his small hands clawing desperately at nothing. “You’re a bad man! A monster!” Linda scrambled through the mud, clinging to Kaelen’s immaculate boots. “My lord, please, he’s just a child. Let him go, I beg you.” With an indifferent flick of his wrist, Kaelen sent Finn crashing to the ground. The boy coughed, a spray of blood staining the mud. “I will give Lyra one day,” Kaelen announced, his voice booming over the storm. “If she doesn’t appear before me by tomorrow, she can’t blame me for being cruel. And when I’m done, this bastard she had with her lover will be punished alongside her!” He turned, his white robes swirling, and vanished. Linda and Finn clung to each other, their sobs lost in the deluge. “Auntie Linda,” Finn whispered, his body trembling, “who was that? He was so scary.” Linda’s gaze darkened. “He is no one, Finn. No one at all.” 2 I clenched my spectral fists, a bitter sorrow welling within me. Kaelen, you couldn’t even recognize your own son. Her lover? The thought was so bitter it was almost laughable. But then, why would he know? He never cared about me. He never would have guessed Finn was his. Even if he knew, he would probably just pour all his hatred for me onto our son. Linda helped Finn back into the cottage and immediately began to pack. “Finn, we have to go. We can’t stay here anymore.” A wave of relief washed over me. She remembered my words. Before I died, I had begged her: if Kaelen ever came looking for me, she had to run. Run as far as she could. I drifted behind her, wishing I could rest a hand on her shoulder. Linda, I’m so sorry. I’m the one who brought this trouble to you. She clutched the moonstone locket I’d given her, her eyes filled with a deep, aching nostalgia. “Lyra,” she murmured to herself, “you gave me this life. Don’t you worry. I will protect Finn with everything I have.” As I watched her face, shadowed and flickering in the lamplight, my mind drifted back fifty years. I saw her again, a little girl who had fallen from a cliff while gathering herbs for her sick mother. I had been passing by and saved her on a whim, healing her mother as well. Such a small act, yet she had carried the weight of that gratitude her entire life. She always said it was a debt she could never repay. Ten years ago, when Kaelen cast me out of the Celestial Realm and his enemies hunted me, it was Linda who took me in. We had lived as fugitives for a decade. I thought Kaelen had finally forgotten me, had let me be. I never imagined that even in death, he would not grant me peace. Linda packed quickly, and under the cloak of darkness, they slipped out of the yard. She paused, looking back one last time at the home we had shared for ten years, and sighed. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, she turned and led Finn away into the night. The moonstone locket would guide them to a hidden cave within my tomb. It held the last vestiges of my arcane power, enough to shield them from Kaelen’s senses. But it would only last for a week. Still, it should have been enough. Kaelen would never waste more than three days searching for me. But they hadn’t gotten far before he appeared, blocking their path. He stood there, an oppressive aura of power rolling off him in waves, crushing down on them. Linda and Finn collapsed, blood trickling from their lips. I flew at Kaelen, my ghostly fists and feet passing right through him. “Kaelen, you bastard! How can you do this to an old woman and a child?! And you call yourself a god, a savior of the realms!” But he couldn’t feel my blows or hear my screams. I was filled with despair. I knew that for his precious Seraphina, there was nothing he wouldn’t do. He looked down at them, his voice a low growl. “And where do you two think you’re going?” Linda struggled to speak. “I… I was just taking Finn to buy some things.” “Oh? To buy things? With all your belongings packed? It looks to me like you were trying to run!” His voice cracked like a whip. “Fools! I already gave you a chance!” Suddenly, a surge of power erupted from Finn. Lynx claws burst from his fingertips, and he lunged at Kaelen. “You monster! Don’t you hurt Auntie Linda! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” My spectral heart leaped into my throat. “Finn, no!” I shrieked into the void. If Kaelen was angered, he would kill Finn without a second thought. It wouldn’t matter that he was his son. Because he was my son, Kaelen wouldn’t care. Kaelen, caught by surprise, didn’t react in time. Finn’s claws tore a deep gash in his arm. His eyes instantly turned to shards of ice. He grabbed Finn by the throat, lifting him effortlessly. “You’re just like your mother,” he hissed. “A defiant little stray.” Finn glared at him, spitting out the words with all his might. “My mother was the best person in the world! You don’t get to talk about her!” Tears streamed down Linda’s face as she began slamming her head against the rocky ground, over and over, until her forehead was a bloody, pulpy mess. I spun in the air, frantic with helplessness. Kaelen, you animal! A cold, pure hatred bloomed in my chest, a feeling I had never truly known until this moment. Kaelen, I was finally, truly beginning to hate you. 3 “My lord,” Linda choked out, her voice thick with blood and tears. “Please, let him go. I told you, Lyra died three years ago.” Kaelen’s grip on Finn’s neck tightened. “Did she now? Well, if she’s dead, her son’s tail will have to do! I refuse to believe she’d stand by and watch her own child be mutilated!” Finn’s face was turning a deep shade of purple. Linda’s lips trembled as she forced out the words. “My lord… Finn… he’s your son.” My gaze snapped to her. How did she know? I had never told her the truth of Finn’s origins, and she had never asked. Perhaps she saw the faint echo of Kaelen in my son’s features. Kaelen merely arched an eyebrow. “You’ll say anything to save that woman, won’t you?” He clearly didn’t believe it. A sphere of golden flame materialized in his right hand, and he pressed it against Finn’s arm. Finn screamed in agony as the Celestial Fire seared his flesh, the wound burning black and refusing to heal. Kaelen’s bloodline carried the divine power of Celestial Fire. Our lynx regeneration, no matter how potent, was useless against it. The wounds would not begin to mend until the last spark of his fire had been extinguished. Twenty years ago, after Seraphina had framed me, Kaelen had burned me with that same fire for an entire hour. My body was a ruin of charred flesh. It took me five years for the scars to fade. And Finn… Finn was not even ten years old. How could he possibly withstand such a torment? Kaelen sneered. “He can’t even endure my Celestial Fire, and you dare claim he’s my son? It seems ten years of suffering in the mortal realm haven’t changed Lyra’s vicious, deceitful nature one bit!” Finn was too young. The War God’s bloodline hadn’t awakened in him yet. Kaelen, you monster! He shouted into the surrounding darkness. “Lyra, I’ve changed my mind! This is your final chance. If you don’t show yourself, I won’t just take your son’s tail. I will burn him with Celestial Fire for three days and three nights!” Desperate, Linda lunged forward to shield Finn. But she was only a mortal. The moment her skin touched the divine light, her entire hand dissolved into ash. Her shriek of agony echoed through the forest. I wanted to tear Kaelen apart. I was consumed by a rage so profound it felt like it could shatter my very soul. Kaelen, Kaelen, I hate you. I hate that I ever met you, and I hate myself for ever loving you! Kaelen dismissed the flame, but Linda’s arm was gone from the elbow down. Finn, ignoring his own searing pain, crawled to her side. He bit into his own wrist and let his blood drip onto her wound, and only then did the bleeding stop. He turned to Kaelen, his voice raw with a grief beyond his years. “You fiend! Who are you?! Why do you hate my mother so much when she’s already gone?!” He screamed, his small body shaking. “My mother is dead! I am her son! Whatever you want, take it from me! I don’t know what she did to you, but please, I’m begging you, don’t hurt Auntie Linda!” Kaelen’s expression flickered for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it. He likely couldn’t bring himself to admit that I, a “lowly” lynx, had been his consort. He had always seen me as a source of shame. Linda’s face was deathly pale. After a long moment, she managed to catch her breath. Using her one remaining hand, she propped herself up with her cane, struggling to her feet. The fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by a chilling, hollow mockery. She looked straight at Kaelen and laughed. “God of War,” she said, her voice steady. “You wish to see Lyra? Then follow me.” Kaelen, completely oblivious to the change in her demeanor, assumed his display of power had finally broken them. A triumphant smirk touched his lips. “You should have just led me to her from the start. You could have saved yourselves so much pain.” As Linda walked ahead, she laughed again, a soft, broken sound. She murmured, so low I could barely hear her. “Lyra… oh, Lyra. Is this truly the man you once loved so deeply? I grieve for you.” I’m sorry, Linda. I’m so sorry. I wished I could turn back time, back to the day I first met him a century ago. I would have turned and walked away without a second thought. I would have ensured our paths never, ever crossed again. 4 After a short walk, we arrived at my tomb. It was built into the face of a sheer cliff. Linda took out the moonstone locket I had given her. A simple squeeze would shatter it, and the rock face would open. The moment Kaelen saw the locket, his composure faltered. He snatched it from her hand, staring at it for a long moment before speaking, his voice laced with a strange, biting anger. “Hah. She never took this off. Now that she has a new lover, I see she gives away her treasures so freely.” Linda’s eyes flashed with contempt. She snatched the locket back and squeezed, but her strength failed her. Frustrated, she hurled it to the ground, and the moonstone shattered into a thousand glittering fragments. Kaelen roared, grabbing her by the collar of her tunic. “How dare you!” “You wanted to see Lyra, didn’t you?” Linda said, gesturing to the opening that had appeared in the cliff face. “She’s in there.” With a cold snort, Kaelen dragged Finn inside. But the cavern was stark and empty. There was nothing. He realized he’d been tricked. A malevolent energy radiated from him, and the temperature in the cave plummeted. Linda leaned against the wall, shivering violently. I rushed to her, trying to shield her with my ghostly form, but my arms passed right through. A mortal would freeze to death in this cold, especially one as old and frail as she was. But Linda seemed not to notice the chill. She reached out, stroking the cold stone of the cavern wall with an aching tenderness. “Lyra,” she whispered. “It’s been too long.” It had been. My body had become one with the mountain itself. Kaelen flicked his wrist. Finn’s form shimmered and shrank, until he was nothing more than a small lynx kitten, mewling in his grasp. “Fine,” Kaelen snarled. “You’re all as defiant as she is. You think my patience is endless? Then I’ll offer her bastard son to the heavens!” He raised his hand, preparing to rip away Finn’s single, precious tail. “Hah, one tail? You’re a liar, just like your mother! Pathetic little mongrel.” I howled, throwing myself at Kaelen again and again. I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I screamed anyway, begging him to spare my son. I was a Nine-Life Lynx, but giving birth to Finn had nearly destroyed me. Finn was just an ordinary lynx spirit. He only has one life. Kaelen, are you really going to murder your own child?!

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After my sister killed herself, she left a final note. Everyone who read that note died. First, it was my grandmother. Then my father. Finally, my mother leaped from the thirtieth floor of a skyscraper. Reporters scrambled over each other to interview me. The police interrogated me through the night. Countless people wanted to know what that final note said. I remained silent. Until the tenth anniversary of my sister’s death, when I saw a figure standing before her gravestone. In that moment, a thrill shot through me. I knew my time had come, too. … My sister, Lily, died the day before school started. She jumped from the sixteenth floor of our apartment building. Her head was twisted to one side. There wasn’t much blood, her small body just curled in a dark pool on the pavement. But the truly unsettling thing was the expression on her face. She was smiling. A collective gasp went through the crowd as they saw it. On her young face, that smile was tinged with a strange, venomous cruelty that didn’t belong to a child. It made the hair on your arms stand up. My mother’s cries were ragged, broken. My father, a man who had stood straight and tall his entire life, seemed to collapse into himself, lighting one cigarette after another in silence. The police officers offered their condolences while going through the motions. “If there’s a suicide note, we can close the case.” So we searched Lily’s room. Grandma was the one who found it. The note contained a single sentence. She held up the piece of paper, her face a mask of pure shock. Then, she let out a shattered cry. “Oh, my sweet girl…” Her reaction left us stunned. My father took a step forward. “Mom, what does it say? What were Lily’s last words?” Grandma gave us one long, deep look, then decisively threw the paper to the floor. Before anyone could react, she wrenched open the window, climbed onto the sill, and jumped. A fresh bloom of red spread on the concrete below. Grandma’s body lay next to Lily’s. And on her face, too, the corners of her mouth were turned slightly upward in a smile. After Grandma’s death, my father, trembling, picked up the note. As he read it, the color drained from his face. He clutched the paper to his chest, refusing to let anyone else see it. No matter how much the police pressed him, he said nothing. After the funeral for my sister and grandmother, we returned home, exhausted to the bone. My mother, her eyes swollen and red, finally broke. “What did Lily’s note say? Why did your mother kill herself after reading it?” Dad was silent, finishing his last cigarette. He looked as if he had aged decades in a few days. “Don’t ask again. From now on, we act as if it never happened.” His voice was gravel. “And no one is to mention Lily’s name ever again.” Mom’s tears were all cried out. Her voice was a raw rasp. “Lily was my daughter, too! Don’t I have the right to know her last words? David, if you do this, Lily will hate you for it!” I thought my father was being cruel, too. “Dad, we’re her family. We have a right to know what she said. And Grandma… why would she just look at a note and—” He cut me off with a raw violence that startled me. He slammed his fist against the wall, his eyes bloodshot. “I told you, the note said nothing important! You don’t need to know!” When he mentioned his mother, his voice choked. The grief was there, raw and real. But then, as if remembering something, he shut his eyes tightly. “Your grandmother… she was old. Confused. Maybe with Lily gone, she just didn’t want to live anymore.” “That’s enough,” he said, his tone final. “We are not talking about this again. The matter is closed.” He retreated to his room, refusing to utter another word about my sister. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that note. I had to know what Lily’s last words were. My mother felt the same. Three days later, my father drank himself into a stupor and passed out on his bed. Seizing the opportunity, Mom searched his pockets and found the folded piece of paper. She opened it with trembling, eager hands. And then she froze. I watched her expression shift dramatically, a storm of emotions passing over her face. “Mom, what is it? What did Lily say?” I asked, my own heart pounding with anxiety. She didn’t answer. She just stood there, staring at the paper as if she’d seen a ghost. I couldn’t stand the suspense. I moved to snatch the note from her hands, but her reaction shocked me even more. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. She looked at me, her gaze vacant, filled with a bottomless despair. Then, she crumpled the note into a tight ball and stuffed it into her mouth. “Mom, what are you doing? Spit it out!” I screamed, grabbing her arm. “Don’t swallow it!” But it was too late. She swallowed. She looked at me, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Claire,” she whispered, “you must never, ever know what this sentence says.” I stood there, paralyzed, unable to comprehend the demonic power held in that single sentence. Why did it make everyone act so strangely? Grandma had read it and immediately taken her own life. Just then, my father sat up in bed. He had been awake the whole time, watching us from the shadows. He let out a long, weary sigh, and then a strange, broken laugh. He looked at my mother, his eyes dark and hollow. “Laura,” he said. “Now you’re living in hell with me.” My world was spinning. I couldn’t understand how everything had fallen apart so quickly. A month ago, I had a happy, perfect family. During the summer break, Lily and I would lounge around the house, watching movies, playing games, reading comics together. My parents were not only in love with each other, but they adored us. In twenty years of marriage, they’d never had a major fight. Grandma, though old, was the kindest, most loving woman I knew, always sneaking us candy and pocket money. Just last night, she was talking about making us her special pot roast. In just a few days, everything was gone. My sister was dead. My grandmother was dead. My father had become a drunk, and my mother was now a stranger to me. My world had collapsed. And in the ruins, one question echoed: What was written on that note? The next day, the police came back. My parents were gone, so I was the one who had to speak with them. “Did your sister show any signs of depression recently?” the lead detective asked. “Bad grades, a fight with you or your parents, a breakup?” I wracked my brain but shook my head. Lily was a genius, always top of her class. She was sweet and obedient; my parents doted on her. A breakup was out of the question. She was only in seventh grade. The police were stumped. “What about your grandmother? Did she ever express suicidal thoughts? She saw the note and jumped immediately. What did that note say?” At the mention of Grandma, tears burst from my eyes. Lily’s death was a tragedy, but Grandma’s… that was a trauma seared into my memory. I had watched her fall. I was sobbing too hard to speak. The officers, seeing my state, ended the interview. They closed the case, officially ruling Lily’s death a suicide due to academic pressure. They had only just left when they came rushing back. The detective, a man named Miller, looked at me, his expression grim. He struggled to find the words. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Claire… try to stay strong.” “We just got a call. Your father, David… he… he jumped from the bridge into the river.” My blood ran cold. My body began to shake uncontrollably. They took me to the riverbank. It was cordoned off with white police tape. The onlookers watched as I was escorted through, their whispers following me like ghosts. “That must be the daughter. She looks just like him.” “What could be so bad that you’d leave your own child behind?” “I heard his other daughter killed herself. He probably couldn’t take it.” “But he had another one, right? How could he just abandon her?” Their words were like daggers. I couldn’t believe it. My father, who was terrified of water, had chosen to drown himself. Detective Miller put a hand on my shoulder and showed me a video on his phone, taken by a bystander. I saw my father park his car, get out, and sprint to the railing of the bridge. Without a moment’s hesitation, he vaulted over it. The churning river swallowed him in an instant. He didn’t know how to swim. He was terrified of water. There was no chance of survival. I covered my mouth, a strangled sob escaping my lips. In a few short days, I had lost my sister, my grandmother, and now my father. I collapsed onto the ground, my world shattering into a million pieces. Detective Miller knelt beside me, his face stern. “Claire, I know this is hard, but you have to pull yourself together. Right now, your sister’s note is the key to all of this. You have to tell us what it said.” I was on the verge of a complete breakdown. I clutched my head and screamed. “I don’t know! I really don’t know!” If I could, I would have given anything to know. Just then, my mother arrived. She took in the scene, the police, the river, and accepted the news of my father’s death with a terrifying, serene calm. She stood at the river’s edge and answered the detective’s question.

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1 Eight months pregnant, and my notoriously biased parents finally invited me home for dinner. Then the fire broke out. In an instant, they shoved me aside, grabbing my sister, Chelsea—the one with leukemia—and fled, leaving me to the flames. Just as I thought I was going to die, my husband, Adrian, charged back into the inferno without a second thought and pulled me from the wreckage. He didn’t seem to care about his own burns, his eyes filled with nothing but aching tenderness for me. “You’re pregnant,” he’d murmured, his voice choked with soot and fear. “If anything happened to the baby… what would I do?” I thought I had finally found someone who truly loved me. Until I saw his chat history with my sister. “Chelsea, just wait a little longer. As soon as she has the baby and we get the cord blood, I can save you.” Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone and dialed the clinic. “Hello, I’d like to schedule an abortion.” … I had just picked up the appointment slip when I ran into Adrian, propping up my sister Chelsea as they headed for her own check-up. He froze when he saw me. “Honey, what are you doing at the hospital? I thought your prenatal appointment wasn’t until next week.” His gaze darted anxiously to my stomach. I used to think it was a sign of his love. Now I understood. He saw me as nothing more than an incubator for Chelsea’s cure. “Just feeling a little off, so I came to get it checked out,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm. Adrian’s face tightened with worry. “Off how? What did the doctor say? How’s the baby? Did you get the results?” He rushed to my side, steadying me, his hand hovering protectively over my belly, his eyes a performance of pure concern. Chelsea, however, shot me a venomous glare. “You can’t even handle a simple pregnancy. What good are you? If anything, and I mean anything, happens to that baby, I’ll make you pay.” I handed Adrian the ultrasound printout I’d just received. “The results are fine. The baby’s perfectly healthy.” He let out a visible sigh of relief. “That’s good. Then you should go home and rest. Chelsea still has a few tests to get through, so I’ll stay with her and be back later.” His other hand never once left Chelsea’s arm. I used to dismiss his excessive attention to her as him simply trying to get along with my family for my sake. It never occurred to me that this was their plan all along. As they walked away, a cold resolve settled over me. I followed them. I watched them disappear into the office of the Head of Hematology—who also happened to be my father. “Chelsea’s condition can’t wait any longer,” my father’s voice was grim. “We need to do something, fast.” Adrian squeezed Chelsea’s hand tightly. “Just a little longer. Two months, max. Once Amelia gives birth and we get the cord blood, we can save her.” “She might not even last another month,” my father countered, his tone severe. “We have to operate as soon as possible.” “Then let’s do the C-section now. The baby is viable at eight months.” A figure stepped out from a corner of the office. My blood ran cold. It was my mother, an OB-GYN at this very hospital. It felt like a dozen knives plunged into my chest, stealing my breath. They were all in on it. All of them. And I had been naive enough to believe that my pregnancy had finally earned me a sliver of my parents’ love. “But Amelia’s only eight months along,” Adrian’s voice pulled me back from the brink. “If we induce her now, will it harm the baby?” My mother’s face soured, her brow furrowed. “Chelsea’s health is the only thing that matters right now. Nothing else is important.” I stared at the woman who had carried me for nine months, and my heart felt like it was being ripped apart. Chelsea leaned into Adrian’s arms, her voice a saccharine whisper. “Adrian, darling, you seem so worried about her baby. Don’t tell me you’re actually starting to fall for her.” He pulled her tighter, his denial swift and sharp. “Of course not. I only married her to get you the cord blood you need to live. Once the baby is out, she’s worthless to me.” I watched the scene unfold, tears streaming silently down my face, my hand clenched around the abortion pill the doctor had given me earlier. I tilted my head back and, without a single shred of doubt, swallowed it. 2 After taking the pill, I went home. I signed the divorce papers I’d had drawn up months ago and locked them in the safe. Just as I started to pack, the front door burst open. A chill of pure fear shot down my spine. Adrian stormed in and grabbed my arm. “Amelia, the doctor just called me. He took another look at your report. The baby’s not doing well. We have to go to the hospital. Now.” I tried to pull away, but his grip was like a vise, my wrist already turning red. “I’m not going. The doctor told me himself that the baby was fine. And why would the hospital call you and not me?” Adrian’s eyes were bloodshot, a frantic urgency in them. “It was a last-minute call! Your mother contacted me directly. Even if you don’t trust me, you trust your own mother, don’t you?” Right on cue, my parents walked in. My mother’s face was a cold mask. “This is your own fault for not being careful enough. You’ve upset the baby’s stability. You’re coming with us to the hospital.” My father chimed in, “Your mother is an OB-GYN, for God’s sake. You don’t trust her professional opinion?” My free hand shot out, grabbing the bedroom doorknob in a death grip. “I’m not going. It’s late. We can go tomorrow. I feel fine. There’s nothing wrong.” My mother’s eyes narrowed into slits. She strode forward and started prying my fingers from the knob, one by one. “You’ll go when I say you’ll go. Why are you so difficult? I’m your mother. Would I ever do anything to harm you?” From the moment I was born, they had shipped me off to live with my grandparents in the countryside. They only reluctantly brought me back after my grandparents passed away and the village council called them. I had always wanted to ask them: we were both their daughters, why did they love Chelsea and not me? I held on with every ounce of strength I had, and my mother couldn’t break my grip. SLAP. The sound echoed in the room. Her hand struck my face with brutal force. “You are going to the hospital with me, right now. If you delay Chelsea’s treatment, I will make you regret it.” My cheek burned, instantly swelling. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Finally. The masks are off.” My mother was unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is that your body is no longer fit to continue this pregnancy. It just so happens that Chelsea needs the cord blood to live.” Seeing that I still wouldn’t let go, my father joined the assault. “Amelia, you’ve always been the sensible one. Your sister needs you. Can’t you do this one thing for your mother and me?” He was trying to play the family card. I spat on the floor at his feet. “Don’t you dare. Stop with the fake sentiment. Chelsea’s life is a life, but mine isn’t? A forced C-section at eight months… I could die.” When he saw that I wouldn’t be swayed, he slapped me too, on the other cheek. “You ungrateful wretch! That’s your sister! What’s wrong with sacrificing one baby to save her? It’s not like you can’t have another one.” Adrian dropped the act completely. His hands closed around my neck. “Amelia, Chelsea collapsed this afternoon. She’s waiting for your cord blood to save her life. You’re going to that hospital whether you like it or not.” “Adrian, the baby in my belly is your child!” I gasped. He sneered. “It’s his honor to be able to save Chelsea. It’s his purpose. Otherwise, a woman like you would never have been worthy of carrying my child in the first place.” I stared into his cold, merciless eyes and felt myself plummeting into a bottomless abyss. 3 “Dad, Mom, let’s stop wasting time with her. Chelsea can’t wait. Let’s just tie her up and drag her to the hospital!” With that, Adrian grabbed a rope. With my parents’ help, they bound my hands behind my back. “Get moving! If you screw up Chelsea’s treatment, I’ll deal with you,” my mother hissed, shoving me forward. I hooked my foot around the doorframe, refusing to budge. Adrian kicked my leg, hard. “Amelia, if Chelsea doesn’t make it, I swear I’ll make you pay with your life.” He used all his strength. I crumpled to the floor with a thud, my knees screaming in protest. A sharp, twisting pain shot through my abdomen. “Be careful with the baby!” my mother snapped at Adrian. “You can hit her face, but don’t you dare harm the baby in her stomach.” Adrian nodded quickly. He and my father hauled me up like a sack of potatoes and started dragging me toward the elevator. Just as the elevator doors opened, a tall, well-built man stepped out. I recognized him. It was Officer Miller from next door. He’d helped me once when my purse was stolen. He was a lifeline. A flicker of hope ignited in my chest. “Help—” Before I could get the word out, my mother clamped her hand over my mouth. “Feeling nauseous again? Don’t worry, sweetheart, Mommy’s taking you to the hospital.” Officer Miller looked at us, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Is everything alright?” “My wife’s not feeling well,” Adrian said smoothly. “Looks like she might be going into labor. We’re rushing her to the hospital.” My hands were still tied behind me, Adrian’s grip like steel, preventing any movement. I could only plead with my eyes, locking them on Officer Miller. “I’m an OB-GYN,” my mother added, pulling out her hospital ID to sell the lie. “My daughter is about to give birth. We can’t waste a second.” “Then you should hurry,” Officer Miller said, stepping aside to let us pass. Adrian let out a small, relieved breath. As they dragged me into the elevator, I watched Officer Miller turn and walk away. The hope in my heart turned to ash. “You little bitch,” my mother hissed as soon as the doors closed, pinching my arm viciously. “You almost tattled to that cop. Do you have any idea that you were about to condemn your own sister to death? How can you be so evil?” The sharp, piercing pain brought fresh tears to my eyes. Just then, my father’s phone rang. “Dr. Evans, your daughter Chelsea has a sudden high fever that won’t break. You need to get back here immediately.” After hanging up, my father’s face grew grim as he stared at my stomach. “Chelsea can’t wait. The second we get to the hospital, we’re prepping for the C-section.” The elevator doors opened, and Adrian and my father practically threw me out. “Stop right there.” A sudden rush of footsteps. I turned my head. It was Officer Miller, his expression serious, standing right behind us. 4 The extinguished embers of hope inside me flared back to life. “You dropped your ID.” Officer Miller jogged over and handed my ID card to my mother. “Oh, thank you, Officer.” My mother gushed with gratitude. I struggled against my bonds, trying to break free. “Officer—” Just as he was about to leave again, I tried to call out, but Adrian clamped his hand over my mouth before I could finish. “Honey, just hold on a little longer. We’re almost at the hospital.” He dragged me toward the car. The moment I was thrown into the back seat, my mother’s fingers dug into my arm again, hard. “If you dare cause any more trouble, I swear I’ll make you wish you were never born.” Adrian sped through three red lights to get to the hospital. I was dragged straight into an operating room. Staring at the cold, sterile room, I was terrified. I tried to run, but my mother was ready with a syringe. She jabbed a sedative into my arm. “We’re just taking the baby out. I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. We’re family. And you’re saving your own sister!” The sedative began to work, my body feeling strangely light. But to avoid harming the baby, she’d used a small dose. I was still conscious. “Tie her to the operating table. I’ll perform the surgery myself.” Adrian and my father hoisted me onto the table. “This is illegal! Do you know what you’re doing is a crime?” I screamed, my voice filled with desperation. My mother just scoffed. “You’re my daughter. What’s wrong with me operating on you? I’m the one who gave you life.” My father shot me a contemptuous look. “You ungrateful brat. We raised you all these years, and all we’re asking is for you to save your sister. And you’re talking to us about the law?” Adrian tightened the ropes binding me to the table. I could feel them cutting into the flesh of my wrists. “Adrian, sign this quickly. I need to start,” my mother said, handing him a consent form. He didn’t even glance at it before scrawling his name. I looked at the people I was supposed to call my family, and my heart plunged into an icy abyss. “Adrian, maybe you should wait outside. It might get a little bloody,” my mother said, picking up a scalpel. He shook his head. “No. I have to see Chelsea’s medicine being taken out with my own eyes. Only then can I be at ease.” His words were like needles, piercing my heart over and over. In his eyes, I and the baby inside me were nothing more than a dose of medicine. This was a private, illegal surgery. There was no anesthesiologist. My mother pressed the cold blade against my stomach and began to cut. A live C-section. Pain, white-hot and absolute, exploded through me. It felt like my bones were being shattered. I could feel every layer of my flesh being sliced open. The room echoed with my blood-curdling screams, but no one wiped the sweat from my brow, no one even flinched. They didn’t even look at me. “You will all pay for this,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. Adrian was about to curse at me when my mother suddenly shouted. “It’s out! The baby’s out!” But her joy was short-lived. A moment later, her voice was laced with terror. “The baby… why isn’t the baby breathing?”

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My parents called to tell me they were heading to my childhood best friend’s house to meet his blind date. At that moment, my childhood best friend, Frank, was fast asleep beside me. I thought they were joking. “Frank,” I whispered, “they’re saying they found you a blind date.” He hummed, a lazy sound, and pulled me tighter into his embrace. “Alright, Hannah. Pick out an outfit for me in a bit, maybe do my hair.” When I didn’t move, he cracked open an eye and scoffed. “Hey, what’s wrong? We’re just bed buddies. You didn’t actually think I was going to marry you, did you?” I couldn’t process it. All I could do was move, a flurry of awkward motion. I couldn’t look at him. I pushed him away, scrambled to pick my clothes up off the floor, and pulled them on haphazardly. “Hannah, look at me.” Frank propped his chin on his arm, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You didn’t really think we were boyfriend and girlfriend, did you?” The phrase “bed buddies” echoed in my head. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t fasten the clasp on my bra. Frank threw back the covers, revealing the lean, sharp lines of his abdomen, and knelt on the edge of the bed. His hands moved with a familiar ease, fastening the hooks for me. I kept my head down. “Who’s the blind date?” I asked, my voice tight. I forced a bitter laugh. “Please don’t tell me your parents just grabbed some random person from a park bench.” I looked at myself in the mirror, at the constellation of red marks dotting my skin, my legs still aching from the night before. Frank, now wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, came up behind me and buried his face in my neck. “It’s Angela.” He flickered those handsome, almond-shaped eyes at me. “You remember. The senior from the art department in college. Angela.” He added, a genuine note of excitement in his voice, “You know, the thought of seeing her again… I’m actually a little nervous.” My hand, holding a tube of lipstick, froze. Of course I remembered. Frank had a massive crush on her, but before he could confess, she had moved abroad. I thought that was all in the past. Frank watched me in the mirror, his lips pursed. “Hey, Hannah. Don’t go getting any funny ideas about me.” “We grew up in diapers together. I mean, yeah, you’re… beautiful, but I see you as a brother.” “You’re my best buddy—for food, for road trips, for… bed.” It felt like a physical blow. A chill spread through my body. I looked at his smiling face and could only manage a weak, trembling smile in return. He kept going. “Besides, I know you so well. I know what you’re going to wear every day, right down to the matching underwear set.” “It’s almost… boring.” “Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and see you sleeping next to me, and honestly? It scares me.” “It scares me that one day, maybe we’d end up like our parents joked, actually married. My whole life, just… mapped out from start to finish.” He shuddered, as if the very thought was terrifying. I dug my nails into my palm, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “I have to go.” I wrapped myself in my coat and fled like a coward. I thought Frank and I were in a relationship. We acted like any other couple. We ate together, went on dates, hung out with friends. During games of Truth or Dare, we would kiss each other deeply and say “I love you” without a second thought. Frank would pick me up from work every single rainy day. He would secretly hold my hand under the table at family dinners. I had no idea that what I thought was a six-month relationship was just a childish game to him. “Hannah?” My mom tapped on the car window, peering in with concern. I snapped back to reality. Seeing my tear-streaked face in the rearview mirror, I quickly wiped my eyes, called out a shaky response, and got out of the car. “Mom!” I threw my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder to hide my expression. “I missed you,” I said with a laugh. My mom, holding a bag of groceries, took my arm, looking relieved. “Honey, why were you just sitting in the car? You scared me. Didn’t you see the news about people suffocating in their cars…?” I nodded along. Suddenly, her tone shifted. “By the way, Hannah, Frank’s blind date is coming over soon. Your Uncle and Aunt are taking this very seriously. I hear Frank planned this whole thing for a long time. He said he was worried the girl might feel awkward, and having you there would make her more comfortable.” “You know how close I am with his mom. So today, when we go…” She looked at me, her expression pained, trailing off. I forced a smile. “I know, Mom. Don’t worry. I’m great at breaking the ice, saying the right things. I get it.” My mom gave me a look filled with pity. Of course she knew. A photo of Frank and me sat on my nightstand. I treasured every gift he’d ever given me, not to mention the notebooks filled with a love I couldn’t hide. How could she not know? We walked home in silence. As we reached the door, I spoke up, my voice suddenly light. “Dad’s retiring next month. Let’s move to the coast.” I looked at my mother’s startled face and smiled playfully. “You two have always talked about retiring there. I don’t have any big dreams. I’d be happy just being a dance teacher, staying by your side.” Sitting in Frank’s house with my parents felt different this time. We were usually so boisterous, laughing and joking. The last time we were here, we had used a video game as an excuse to sneak into his room and kiss. This time… “Oh, Mary, you have no idea the lengths that boy of mine went to for this Angela,” Frank’s mom said to mine. “A direct pursuit would have been too simple for him. No, he had to insist on the pretense of ‘dating with the intention of marriage.’ He made his father pull all sorts of strings just to get her to show up today for a ‘blind date’.” I looked around the meticulously decorated house, filled with bouquets of roses. There were platters of fruit and sweets on the table. Even their little dog was wearing a bright red sweater. And Frank was standing in front of a mirror, checking his reflection over and over, making sure he was perfect. The irony was laughable. Just last night, we were tangled in the sheets, and he was kissing the small red mole on my waist with such passion. And the underwear he was wearing right now? I bought it for him. “It’s just such a shame…” Frank’s mom sighed, taking my mother’s hand. “We always said we’d be in-laws one day. We even had a childhood betrothal for the kids!” She glanced at me. “I truly adore Hannah. She’s not just beautiful, she’s got such a wonderful, bright personality…” I lowered my eyes, not daring to speak, terrified that a single wrong move would cause my tears to fall. “Mom!” Frank frowned, clearly displeased. “You said it yourself, that was your generation’s thing. You and Aunt Mary are close, why don’t you marry her? What’s it got to do with me?” “What century are we in? Stop bringing up that old-fashioned nonsense.” He showed no regard for his mother’s feelings. He then turned to me, his tone hard, as if I had put her up to it. “Hannah, where’s the bracelet my mom gave you?” When I didn’t respond, he strode over, grabbed my wrist, and pushed up my sleeve. “The one from the betrothal thing. I’m afraid Angela will see it and get upset…” The words hung in the air. My dad and his, who had been drinking tea, stopped. My mom, who was arranging flowers for him, stopped. In an instant, the atmosphere turned ugly. My mother stared at me, then slammed the vase and scissors down on the table with a clatter. She started to stand, but Frank’s mom quickly pulled her back. Frank’s mom stood up, placing herself firmly in front of me and giving Frank a hard shove. “Frank! What do you think you’re doing?” “Putting aside the fact that nothing is settled with this Angela… you were the one who got on your knees and begged Hannah to wear that bracelet when you were seventeen!” It was as if Frank’s soul finally returned to his body. He remembered. He remembered the year someone else confessed their feelings for me. Panicked, he’d gotten drunk, stolen the family heirloom bracelet, and showed up at my house in the middle of the night, crying, pleading, even kneeling, begging me to wear it. He tugged at his collar, took a deep breath, and then smiled at me. “I’m just a little on edge. You’re right, you don’t take back a gift. You should keep it.” “It’s fine. I’ll give it back to you. I’ll go home and get it now,” I interrupted, my voice calm. “I’ll be right back. I won’t be long.” Before anyone could react, I grabbed my bag and walked out. When I returned with the bracelet and was about to knock, a chorus of cheers stopped me— “Welcome…” Frank’s smile froze the moment he saw me. “What are you doing here?” He seemed shocked that I had come back, and even more shocked that I had actually brought the bracelet. When I held it out to him, his face was a mask of disbelief. Finally, he took it and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Hannah, for the sake of our… partnership, don’t cause any trouble today.” “Angela’s a sensitive girl. Don’t say anything to upset her.” I didn’t want to engage with him. Angela was a sensitive girl, and I wasn’t? I looked at the boy I had loved for my entire youth, and a bone-deep chill threatened to swallow me whole. Ten minutes later, Angela was escorted into the house by a family friend. The parents all chatted amiably. That was why my parents were here—to subtly lay out our family’s background and future prospects for the go-between. Throughout it all, Frank sat beside Angela, his every gesture radiating care. He was nearly thirty, but he acted like a nervous teenager. I had nothing to do, which suited me fine. I was just looking for a chance to slip away. Unexpectedly, Angela turned to me, her gaze soft. “You must be Hannah. I’ve heard so much about you. The goddess of the art department, wasn’t it?” Startled to be addressed, I waved my hands dismissively. “Oh, no, not at all. That was just everyone fooling around in school.” I hoped the attention would quickly shift. But Angela persisted. “Not at all! After you performed that classical dance at the ball, the entire area under your dorm was filled with flowers the next day.” Before I could speak, she tugged playfully at Frank’s arm. “You two were childhood sweethearts. How did you not end up together? I remember you were inseparable. Everyone thought you’d get married.” Every eye in the room turned to me. I couldn’t explain it, but this seemingly harmless woman radiated a strange hostility towards me. “Her?” Frank looked at Angela, handing her a peeled apple. “In your eyes, she might be a goddess or whatever. But to me, she’s just a tomboy. The brother I grew up sharing pants with.” As if recalling a memory, Frank let out a chuckle. “You have no idea. When Hannah cried as a kid, snot and tears would just stream down her face. If I didn’t wipe that huge glob of snot for her, it would have gone right into her mouth.” “And when she was fifteen, she fainted during gym class and started talking nonsense, flailing her arms and legs around…” “I have to go, I have something to do.” I stood up, barely containing my anger, and managed a tight smile for the adults. “You all chat.” Angela looked at Frank with a concerned expression. “Did I say something wrong to upset her?” Frank glared at me, as if blaming me for ruining the mood. Before he could speak, I cut him off. “I have a date with my boyfriend tonight. I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.” “When did you get a boyfriend?” I had one foot out the door when Frank grabbed my arm. “How come I don’t know about it?” In front of everyone, including Angela, my face flushed. I struggled to pull my arm free. “What business is it of yours whether I have a boyfriend or not?” I snapped. “My own parents haven’t even asked. Why should you care?” “Frank!” his father said in a low, stern voice. “Sit down! What kind of behavior is this?” I used the opportunity to bow to the adults. “Goodbye, Uncle, Auntie.” From behind me, I heard Angela’s sweet voice. “Hannah is so beautiful and performs on stage so often, she must have plenty of admirers… It’s only natural for her to be dating. I think I even saw a hickey under her scarf earlier.” Realizing she might have overstepped, she paused, adding sheepishly, “Maybe it’s because we art students are different. We painters are a bit quieter, whereas you dancers are more… open. But I respect every girl’s choice.” I didn’t hear what they said about me after that. My style had always been a bit bolder. It was a classic case of lifting one up by putting another down, using me as a foil to make her look better. And I could only imagine how Frank would join in on belittling me. But they didn’t know. My claim about having a boyfriend was a lie, but my plan to leave this place and move to the coast was very, very real. I started researching houses and job opportunities there. I threw myself into the planning, busying myself so I wouldn’t have time to think about Frank. We grew up together. He had always played the part of the warm, caring older brother next door, standing up for me whenever I was bullied. When I was ten, I was being mischievous and begged him to stay with me at the amusement park until nine at night. Both sets of parents were so worried they called the police, finally finding us playing house in a sandbox. He took all the blame, saying it was his fault. That night, his father hit him a dozen times with a feather duster. I cried, insisting it was my idea, but Frank, with a defiant lift of his brow, insisted it was all on him. Later, as I grew more beautiful and he more handsome, we became the “golden couple” in everyone’s eyes. I truly believed I had been given the script for a perfect life. [When are you free?] A message from Frank popped up. I wiped a tear from my eye. Before I could even type a question mark, another message came through. [Come get your stuff from my place. I’m inviting Angela over in a few days.] I took a deep breath, calming myself. Less than twenty-four hours ago, we were cuddling on the couch in that apartment, watching a romance movie, our passion leading us late into the night. And now… I gave a bitter smile. I unpinned his chat from the top of my list and sent a single, detached word: [K.] I locked myself in my room that day. My parents came home not long after I did. “The coast is thousands of miles away, Hannah. Once you’re there, coming back will be difficult,” my mom said, watching me cautiously. My dad, hiding behind his newspaper, was also sneaking glances at me. I pulled on my coat. “The weather there is amazing! Isn’t it your dream to retire there?” I smiled and put my arm around her shoulder. “The only thing is, the job market isn’t great. I’m thinking of opening my own dance studio… As for performing again, you know I don’t really care about that.” “But…” my mom frowned, her mouth opening and closing. “Hannah, you…” I glanced at the time. “It’s fine, Mom. I’m serious about this. I’m fine, and my head is clear. You don’t have to worry about me.” “You two, on the other hand, should start thinking about the money.” I gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ve got to run. Talk later.” I thought maybe time and distance would heal the pain. I felt a sense of peace. My devout, passionate love had gone unspoken, but at least I hadn’t lost my dignity. I thought Frank and I could part amicably. I just never expected to be locked out. I stood at the door, keying in the password again and again. [INCORRECT PASSWORD] [INCORRECT PASSWORD] A flame of anger ignited in my chest. When knocking got no response, my rational mind took over. I remembered I could call him. After a series of beeps, the call was disconnected. After my fifth attempt, a text came through: [On a date. Do not disturb.] I took a long breath, resisting the urge to curse him out. [Password.] The next second, a glaring red exclamation mark stung my eyes. Frank had deleted me!

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My parents beamed at me. “How would you like a baby brother?” they asked. I clutched my ragged stuffed rabbit and shook my head with all the solemnity a four-year-old could muster. “No.” They laughed, ruffling my hair as if my words were meaningless. A year later, they returned with a plump baby boy—my “playmate,” my “protector,” my so-called safety net. But adulthood never came. When Dick developed leukemia, I was strapped to cold steel tables as needles plunged into my bones. When his kidneys failed, my mother signed the consent form for my “voluntary” donation—ignoring my pleas about my blood disorder. I bled to death on that table. When I awoke, I was four again. My mother knelt before me, her face glowing with that same maternal joy. “Kerrie, sweetie,” she cooed, “Mommy has a little secret in her tummy. A baby brother for you. Wouldn’t you like a brother to play with?” In her hands, she held two shiny new action figures. In the corner of the room stood a brand-new, baby-blue crib. I looked down at my own chubby hands, clutching the same faded pink rabbit. I was back. This time, I would not be his living blood bank. I would not be held captive by the illusion of their love. My father knelt beside her, his voice a warm, guiding whisper. “Honey, you’re always scared to sleep alone, aren’t you? With a little brother in the house, you’ll never be lonely again.” He’d said the exact same thing in my last life. But after Dick was born, I had never been more alone. The bedtime stories stopped. I was no longer lifted onto my father’s lap. Overnight, I became invisible. I was told to be mature, to be responsible, to take care of my brother. I was five years old. They expected a five-year-old to shed all jealousy and resentment and devote herself to a creature that hadn’t even been born. Back then, I’d felt a vague sense of loss. I’d tearfully told them I wanted to be their only baby forever. My mother’s face had contorted with rage. “I knew it! Girls are so jealous! First, you try to steal your father from me, and now you want to steal everything from your brother before he’s even here!” I hadn’t understood, I only knew she was angry. I’d sobbed that I was sorry, that I did want a brother. Her smile returned, but later, I heard her whisper to my father, “I saw on the news that an eight-year-old pushed her pregnant mother down the stairs. Who knows what this one might do in a fit of jealousy? We should send her to your parents’ place in the country. Just until after the baby is born.” They named him Dick. A name that meant legacy, succession. Everything would be his. The memories flickered through my mind, and my expression darkened. My mother, thinking I was just confused, took my hand and placed it on her still-flat stomach. “There’s a tiny new life in here, Kerrie. Maybe a brother, maybe a sister. Aren’t you excited?” My father joined her side. “One daughter is enough,” he joked. “I’m hoping for a boy. Someone to protect our little Kerrie when she’s older.” I’d fallen for that line before. I’d been so excited. But the Dick I got was a monster who threw toys at my head and shredded my only Barbie doll with scissors. When I complained, they’d always say the same thing: “But you’re the one who wanted a brother to play with, remember? He’s just a baby, Kerrie. He doesn’t know any better. You have to be patient with him.” They used that excuse to gaslight me through my entire childhood, right up until the moment they used it to justify taking my life. So this time, I pointed a small, steady finger at the new baby furniture and toys filling our home. “You’ve already decided to have him,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Why are you asking me?” For a moment, they were speechless, their smiles frozen in an awkward tableau. I turned without another word, clutching my worn-out rabbit, and walked upstairs. There was a large, bright room up there that had always been kept empty. It was for “guests,” they’d said. I finally understood it was for him. I went into my own small, cramped room and the tears finally came. I had spent a lifetime bending over backward for them, enduring unimaginable pain, and they still saw it as nothing more than my duty. Whenever I cried from the pain of the needles, hoping for a word of comfort, my mother would just scold me. “You’re the one who said you wanted a brother! Why else would I have had a second child? Now he’s here, and you refuse to take responsibility for him?” My hands clenched into tight fists. I had to get out of this hellhole. I spent a long time thinking, and the conclusion was inescapable: my parents did not love me. My entire upbringing was a lesson in being quiet, frugal, and obedient. I was never to be demanding. The only time I ever broke that rule was when I was three, when I cried for the stuffed rabbit. My mother had slapped me across the face, right there in the street, and left me sobbing in front of the market stall. I cried for hours until my father finally came back and bought it for me. “Mommy doesn’t have a job because she stays home to take care of you,” he’d said, his voice heavy with meaning. “I have to support this whole family by myself. The money for this rabbit could have bought us a proper steak dinner. Don’t be mad at your mother. She just wants you to be a good, sensible girl.” I was three. I thought we were destitute. I apologized to my mother profusely, promising never to ask for a toy again. But my mother’s dresses cost hundreds of dollars. My father smoked expensive imported cigarettes every day. When Dick was born, he got new toys every month. The ten dollars for my rabbit wouldn’t have broken them. They just couldn’t bear to spend money—or love—on me. Sure enough, the next morning, my mother knocked on my door. “Kerrie,” she said, feigning exhaustion, “Mommy’s not feeling well with the baby in my tummy. I can’t take good care of you right now. Would you like to go stay with Grandma and Grandpa for a few days?” I stared at her, my eyes cold. “Is it really just for a few days?” My directness made her falter, but she recovered quickly. “Of course, sweetie. As soon as Mommy feels better, we’ll come get you.” I didn’t spare her another glance. I grabbed my little backpack, stuffed my few items of clothing and my rabbit inside. “Let’s go.” It was her idea, but as I got in the car, she began to cry. “Let your father drive you. It hurts too much to watch you leave.” Anyone watching would have thought she was the most loving mother in the world. In reality, it was guilt. A “few days” was going to be at least a year. The car left the smooth highway for a winding, remote mountain road. The familiar, dilapidated village came into view. “Be a good girl for your grandparents,” my father said sternly. “Help out where you can. Don’t be selfish. And call me if you need anything.” He strapped a kid’s smartwatch to my wrist. I stared at it. “Will you actually answer?” I asked. He looked confused. “Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I answer my little Kerrie’s call?” He smiled. “Don’t worry. Even with a new baby, you’ll always be my favorite. You just be good here, and I’ll be back to get you before you know it.” Liar. In my last life, my uncle’s son bullied me relentlessly, calling me a worthless burden nobody wanted. I called my father, sobbing. He said he was busy at work and hung up. I called five times that first month. He answered twice, for less than ten seconds each time. By the second month, he “forgot” to pay for the watch’s service plan, and the calls wouldn’t go through at all. I thought I had broken it. I hid in a corner and cried, blaming myself, praying they would come for me soon. It was a year and a half before my uncle, on a trip into the city, finally brought me home. The moment I stepped through the door, my mother recoiled, pinching her nose. “Kerrie, you smell like a barn! Don’t they have showers in the country?” At six years old, I was mortified, hiding my face in shame. Compared to the pale, chubby Dick, I was a skinny, sallow little monkey after a year in the sun. It was true, I wasn’t very lovable. But wasn’t she the one who sent me there in the first place? The first day at my grandparents’, my aunt was furious. “It’s bad enough their own parents won’t raise them, now they dump a little girl on us!” My uncle gave me a silent, weary look and went back inside. I squatted under the eaves of their small house with my backpack, drawing pictures in the dirt. They didn’t like me, but my father sent them money every month. They wouldn’t starve me or let me freeze. This time, I wouldn’t cry for parents who would never come. I would take care of myself and build the strength to escape them for good. My grandparents came home from the fields at sunset. They didn’t recognize me at first. “Grandpa, Grandma,” I said, walking up to them. “It’s me, Kerrie. I’ve come to stay with you.” Grandma immediately pulled me into a warm, loving hug. Grandpa’s face broke into a huge grin, and he ushered me inside for cookies. That night, as I lay on a cool straw mat, Grandma fanned me to sleep while Grandpa watched from the doorway, sighing heavily. Tears slid from the corners of my eyes. I swore I would repay their kindness. I would not let them die so tragically this time.

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My mother despised women. Even me, her own daughter. From the moment I was born, she seemed to wish me dead. I’d get beaten for wearing lipstick, for wearing a dress, and especially for getting too close to my father. Just before my college entrance exams, my misogynistic mother spread a vicious rumor at my school, claiming I was seducing my own father. She pushed me until I jumped from the fifteenth floor. And my mother, she was satisfied with that result. 1 In the hospital, the doctor joyfully took me from the neonatal specialist and announced to my mother: “It’s a girl! Her skin is so fair and bright, she’ll be a real beauty when she grows up!” At those words, my mother’s already pale face twisted. She lunged, grabbing the young female doctor by the hair and slapping her across the face, her voice a raw shriek that echoed down the hallway. “You bitch! Did you switch my son? I ate all those dried geckos! It was supposed to be a boy!” It took an older doctor and a paternity test to finally convince her. The moment she saw the report, she broke, her eyes fixed on me, filled with a venom that could kill. It was my aunt who, with quick thinking, called my father to de-escalate the situation. My mother never forgave my aunt for that phone call. When she was well enough, my father took her home. My aunt, worried, came to visit. From the hallway, she could hear my faint, weak cries. In the bedroom, my father was patiently feeding my mother a bowl of freshly cooked porridge. “David,” my mother pleaded, “swear to me. Swear you’ll only love me for the rest of your life. You can’t love her more just because she’s your daughter. You can’t hold her. You can’t kiss her.” A moment passed before my father quietly agreed. The warm glow of dusk filled the room, painting a scene of domestic harmony that sent a chill down my aunt’s spine. My father, to his credit, kept his word. In all my memories, we never once had any physical contact. But that wasn’t enough for my mother. When I was seven, I walked the three miles home from school only to be met with a stinging slap across the face. The reason? She had found a picture of me on my father’s phone. “Learning such trashy things at your age! Who taught you this?!” she screamed, jabbing the phone at my nose. I didn’t understand what she was talking about. I looked around the room, desperate for my father’s help. All I got was a brutal beating. After that, my picture never appeared on my father’s phone again. I’ll never forget the triumphant, possessive look on my mother’s face. When I was thirteen, for my father’s birthday, I snuck into his study early in the morning and left a gift on his desk—a sweater. It wasn’t expensive, but it had cost me more than half a year’s worth of allowance. That evening, I came home to find the light on in his study and my mother in the living room, a cold sneer on her face. The floor was littered with shredded fabric. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, you little slut!” A rain of fists and feet fell upon me. I writhed on the floor in agony. The light in the study stayed on, but the door never opened. My mother often complained to the neighborhood gossips: “Such a misfortune! My own daughter is a little seductress, can’t even leave her own father alone!” Everywhere I went, I was followed by whispers. I grew used to it. Then, a new woman moved in upstairs. Mrs. Gable was kind, with a gentle voice and a warm heart. Whenever my mother kicked me out, she would bring me snacks. For me, she was one of the few rays of light in my life. But heaven didn’t let me keep that light for long. One day, I was waiting outside our apartment for my mother to finish her mahjong game. Mrs. Gable came downstairs and, after greeting me, noticed my chapped lips. She went back up and returned with a brand-new lip balm. I had never worn makeup before and didn’t realize it was a color-changing balm. I happily applied it, and then my mother returned. When she saw the rosy tint on my lips, her hand flew out and struck me across the face. 2 The blow sent me sprawling, my vision filled with stars. A front tooth, loosened by the force of the slap, wobbled in my mouth, the taste of rust spreading across my tongue. Her words were vile, so vile that neighbors poked their heads out to watch the spectacle, but no one intervened. In their eyes, I suppose, I really was the disgusting creature my mother claimed I was—a wretch trying to seduce her own father. Mrs. Gable heard the commotion and came downstairs. I didn’t want her to see me like this, broken and humiliated, or to hear the filthy rumors about me. I tried to shrink into the corner, to make myself invisible, but my mother dragged me out and shoved me in front of her. “Was it you? Did you give her this lip balm, you bitch?” “Are you trying to help her seduce my husband?” “You’re both disgusting!” I stumbled, my head bowed in shame. But Mrs. Gable stepped in front of me, shielding me with her body. I saw the pain and self-blame in her eyes. “I gave it to her,” she said, her voice firm. “She’s just a child. What harm could she possibly mean? How can you, as her mother, say such things about your own daughter?” She tried to reason with my mother, to make her see sense. But my mother was beyond reason. She shot me a cold, calculating look that made my blood run cold. She raised her hand, and Mrs. Gable stood her ground, probably not believing my mother would actually strike her. But I knew better. I had seen my mother attack countless women over the years. The thought of Mrs. Gable’s kind, gentle face being marred because of me made my whole body tremble. Before the slap could land, I lunged forward. It was the first time I had ever fought back. I only managed to cling to her arm, but it earned me an even more ferocious beating. In the chaos, my forehead slammed against a rusty railing. Blood gushed from the wound. The neighbors, startled, slammed their doors shut. My mother didn’t stop. She shoved Mrs. Gable to the ground. My vision blurred. I could hear my father’s footsteps coming up the stairs, home from work. I tried to scream for help, but my voice was a strangled whisper. Then our apartment door slammed shut, without a moment’s hesitation. Through it all, Mrs. Gable pleaded for me, her initial anger giving way to desperate bargaining. “I’ll leave! I’ll move out in a few days, I’ll never show my face here again! Just please, let the child go!” I managed to lift my head and saw that her face was streaked with tears. My mother, whether she had agreed to Mrs. Gable’s terms or was simply tired, finally stopped. She tossed me aside like a piece of trash and went inside. I never saw Mrs. Gable again. Before she left, she gave me a few things. I hid them away, too precious to use. Even with Mrs. Gable gone, my mother’s hatred for me didn’t wane. With every year I grew older, her loathing deepened. Lately, a new, calculating look had entered her eyes when she looked at me. It was as if I wasn’t her daughter, but a rival for her husband’s affection. Her stare made my skin crawl, but I found solace at school. Over the years, no matter how many times I had thought of giving up, the sight of my best friend, Tina, always gave me a reason to keep going. It was as if all the suffering I had endured was just to meet an angel like her. Tina didn’t know about my home life. But whenever she saw the bruises on my face, she would give me a hug. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” One sentence, one hug—that was the source of all my strength. My homeroom teacher also valued me for my diligence and good grades. I held onto Mrs. Gable’s final words to me—”study hard”—like a lifeline. I believed that if I just studied hard enough, one day I could escape that hell, escape that monster of a mother. Then, when I was eighteen, a senior in high school, my teacher patted my shoulder, a proud smile on his face. “Excellent work. Keep this up, and you’ll have no problem getting into the local state university.” My mock exam scores came back. I was still in the top ten of my grade. My teacher was thrilled. He treated me and a few other top students to a meal at the cafeteria’s second-floor diner. Afterward, I lagged behind the group. I was so happy I could have screamed, but years of repression had stolen my ability to smile. The thought that in just twenty more days I would be free brought tears to my eyes. “Amanda,” my teacher’s voice was gentle. He must have noticed my emotions. “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You have a long road ahead of you.” Just then, Tina ran up, waving. “Amanda! Let’s walk home together!” Seeing her, so vibrant and full of life, a tiny seed of hope sprouted in my heart. Maybe, just maybe, if I could get through this, I could be like her. A bright future, an open road. That night, I came home to find my mother sitting in the living room. The familiar scene made my heart leap into my throat. I tried to hurry to my room, but she grabbed me by the hair from behind. 3 I hit the floor hard, the backpack digging into my spine. My mother kicked me a few times, then stalked over to the coffee table, muttering curses under her breath. “If it wasn’t for the junk collector, I never would have known! You little bitch, hoarding this trash!” “Skirts! Lipstick! Stealing money from the family to buy this garbage at your age!” “You’re trying to steal my husband!” She grabbed the items one by one and hurled them at me. The lip balm and snacks from Mrs. Gable, and a small dress. The food was long expired, but I had treasured it. Now it was scattered across the floor. I curled into a ball, trying to protect myself, clutching the dress that smelled of mildew from being hidden away for so long. Just hold on a little longer. It’ll be over soon. The pain was a dull, familiar ache. Hope was so close. I just had to endure. I kept telling myself that. But then came the parent-teacher conference. It was just a few days before the final exams. I didn’t think much of it; they never came to these things. I used to dream of it, but I had long since gotten used to their absence. I just thought of it as a day off. The next day, my mother wasn’t home. She seemed to have left early. For some reason, my heart was pounding. It wasn’t until I saw her downstairs that afternoon, humming as she played mahjong, that I finally relaxed. I had already contacted my old summer job boss. He’d agreed to take me on again, even providing a dorm room. The summer’s wages would be enough to cover my first year of tuition. I was so lost in my happy plans for the future that I didn’t notice the strange looks my classmates were giving me. Looks of glee, of disgust. It was Tina, abruptly pulling her hand away from mine, that brought me back to reality. “What’s wrong, Tina?” I asked, my voice trembling as I saw the strange expression on her face. “My mom said…” Tina stammered, unable to form a complete sentence, but the distance in her eyes was something I had never seen before. A boy nearby finished her sentence for her. “She said you’re a slut who’d even screw her own father!” A roar of laughter filled the classroom. The topic was clearly a hit. The room, which had been emptying out, was suddenly full and buzzing with excitement. “Wow, Amanda, I never knew you were such a freak.” “You put on a good act, don’t you? After exams, want to try it with us? We’re definitely better than your dad!” I saw the cruel delight in their eyes. The words hit me, and the color drained from my face. I grabbed whatever I could and threw it at them. They dodged easily, their taunts relentless. “Whoa, watch out! The whore is throwing a tantrum!” In that moment, all the blood rushed to my head. I wanted to kill them. It was my teacher who stopped me. I followed him to his office in a daze, my body shaking uncontrollably. But this time, he didn’t pat my shoulder. His eyes were filled with a mixture of pity and hesitation. “Amanda,” he began, “your mother told me everything. Maybe you’re still young, you don’t understand what love is…” My mind went blank. I suddenly understood why my mother, who always spent her afternoons playing cards, had been sitting right on my path home, humming a tune. A chilling coldness spread from the pit of my stomach. I turned and walked out of the office without a word. I buried my face in my collar, as if that could shield me from the world. The next few days were a living hell. Tina started deliberately ignoring me, finding other girls to walk home and eat with. The boys who collected homework would intentionally hold theirs back, and when the teacher asked, they would stand up and shout for the whole class to hear: “I don’t want to touch it. She’s dirty!” My teacher, at a loss, had someone else take over my duties. But that person would “accidentally” miss my homework too, and then giggle and repeat the same line. Suddenly, I had no one to turn to. The weight of it all was crushing me, suffocating me. That night, I went home and saw the triumphant smile on my mother’s face. And I knew. This was the result she had wanted all along. 4 The noisy crowd below pulled my attention back. A sea of young, vibrant faces stared up at me. The words of those boys from my class echoed in my ears. “What, you can’t take it anymore?” My notes from three years of high school, the culmination of all my hard work, were gone. When I finally found them, they were soaking in a bucket of filthy water, ruined beyond recognition. I heard a group of boys snickering behind me. In that moment, a profound weariness washed over me. Even breathing felt like a struggle. All I ever wanted was to live. Why was it so hard? “If you can’t take it, just die. A person like you doesn’t deserve to be alive anyway.” The boy’s words were poison. I ignored them and tried to walk away. But one of them grabbed my arm, telling me to “play” with him. In a panic, I scrambled up to the rooftop. My only intention was to escape their harassment. But I had forgotten it was the busiest time of day at school. Students, finished with lunch, were heading back to their classrooms, and they all looked up and saw me. I don’t know what my mother told them that day, but I can imagine the school was flooded with vicious rumors about me. Not a single person looking up at me had sympathy in their eyes. Only a morbid curiosity. “Is that the really smart girl from Class One? I heard she’s promiscuous, sleeps with a lot of guys.” “Her own mother said it. How could it be fake?” “She asked me to get a room with her a few days ago. I turned her down!” “I heard she’s good, though.” “What do you know? She’s dirty!” The rumors were a snowball, growing bigger and bigger, until they had crushed me. A victim’s explanation is always so weak, so powerless. Someone from the crowd below shouted for me to jump, that a twisted, immoral person like me didn’t deserve to live in this world. I stared at that stranger’s face for a long time. Then, amidst a chorus of screams, I jumped. I hit the ground hard. Blood splattered everywhere. The crowd scattered in terror, but their clothes were already stained with my blood. Not a single one of them was innocent.

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My parents called to tell me they were heading to my childhood friend’s house to meet his blind date. My childhood friend, Hugh, was fast asleep beside me. I thought it was a joke. “Hugh,” I whispered, “they said they found you a blind date.” He grunted, pulling me closer into his arms. “Cora, sweetheart, pick out an outfit for me in a bit, would you? And help me with my hair.” When I froze, Hugh cracked open an eye and let out a cynical laugh. “What’s wrong with you? We’re just hookup buddies. You didn’t actually think I was going to marry you, did you?” 1 My mind blanked. All I could do was fumble awkwardly. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Hugh. I pushed him away, snatching my clothes from the floor and pulling them on haphazardly. “Cora, look at me.” Hugh propped his chin on his arm, a playful glint in his eyes. “You didn’t really think we were boyfriend and girlfriend, did you?” The words “hookup buddies” echoed in my head. My hands trembled so badly I couldn’t fasten the clasp on my bra. Hugh threw back the covers, revealing a lean, sculpted torso, and knelt on the edge of the bed. With practiced ease, his fingers found the clasp and secured it. I kept my head down. “Who’s the blind date?” I managed, forcing a bitter laugh. “Please don’t tell me your parents just grabbed some random person from a singles’ mixer.” I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, at the constellation of red marks scattered across my skin. My legs still ached. Hugh, now only in a pair of grey sweatpants, moved behind me and buried his face in the crook of my neck. “It’s Isla.” He arched a brow, those handsome eyes of his crinkling. “You remember, the senior from the art department in college. Isla.” He let out a low whistle. “To be honest, just thinking about seeing her again… I’m actually a little nervous.” My hand, holding a tube of lipstick, froze. Of course, I remembered. Hugh had a massive crush on her, but before he could confess, she’d moved abroad. I thought that was all in the past… Hugh’s eyes were fixed on me. He pursed his lips. “Cora, don’t get any funny ideas. We grew up together, practically in diapers. And yeah, you’re… beautiful, no doubt. But I see you as one of the guys. “You’re my perfect partner—for meals, for road trips, for bed…” His words hit me like a physical blow, a chill spreading through my entire body. I stared at his smiling face and managed a weak curl of my lips. He went on. “Besides, I know everything about you. What you’ll wear on any given day, right down to the matching underwear set. It’s… kind of boring, you know? Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and see you sleeping next to me, and I get this jolt of fear—what if that joke our families always make comes true? What if we actually got married? My whole life would be over before it even started.” He shuddered dramatically, as if the mere thought was terrifying. I dug my nails into my palm, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “I have to go.” I wrapped my coat around myself and fled like a deserter. 2 I thought Hugh and I were dating. We did everything other couples did. We ate together, went on dates, hung out with friends where, during a game of Truth or Dare, we’d casually kiss and say “I love you” without a hint of irony. Hugh would pick me up from work on rainy days. He’d secretly hold my hand under the table at family dinners. I never knew that the six months I thought were a budding romance were just a game of house to him. “Cora?” My mom tapped on the car window, her face etched with concern. I snapped back to reality. I saw my own tear-streaked face in the rearview mirror and quickly wiped it clean before getting out. “Mom!” I threw myself into her arms, hiding my face in her shoulder with a forced laugh. “I missed you.” She was holding a bag of groceries, and she took my arm, breathing a sigh of relief. “Honey, why were you just sitting in the car? You scared me. Didn’t you see that news story about someone…” I nodded along. Suddenly, her tone shifted. “Oh, by the way, Cora… Hugh’s blind date is coming over soon. Your uncle and aunt are taking this very seriously. I hear Hugh has been planning this for a long time. He said he was worried the girl might feel awkward, and having another girl there might help her relax.” She looked at me, her expression pained, hesitating. “I’ve been best friends with his mom for so many years, so when we go over today…” I knew what she was trying to say. “It’s okay, Mom,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just break the ice, say nice things. I get it.” She gave me a look filled with pity. Of course, she understood. A photo of Hugh and me sat on my bedside table. Every gift he’d ever given me was carefully stored away like a treasure. My notebooks were filled with his name, a testament to a love I couldn’t hide. How could she not know? We walked home in silence. As we opened the door, I said suddenly, “Dad’s retiring next month. Let’s move to Florida.” I looked at my mom’s stunned face and tried to sound playful. “You’ve always said you wanted to retire there. I don’t have any big dreams anyway. I can be a dance teacher, stay by your side. That’s all I need.” 3 Sitting in Hugh’s living room with my parents felt different this time. Every other time, we were laughing and fooling around. The last time, we’d used “playing video games” as an excuse to sneak off to his room and kiss. This time… “Oh, Amelia, you have no idea the lengths this boy went to for this girl, Isla,” Hugh’s mom said to mine. “I told him, ‘Just ask her out!’ But no, he had to insist on framing it as ‘dating with the intention of marriage.’ He made his father pull all sorts of strings just to get her to agree to meet today as a blind date.” I looked around the meticulously decorated house, filled with bouquets of roses. The table was laden with fruits and sweets. Even their little dog was wearing a bright red sweater. And there was Hugh, checking his reflection over and over, making sure he was perfect. The bitter irony was that just last night, we were tangled in his sheets, and he was kissing the small birthmark on my waist with such tenderness. The underwear he was wearing right now? I bought it for him. “Ah, it’s such a shame, though…” Hugh’s mom squeezed my mother’s hand wistfully. “We always said we’d be in-laws one day. We even made a childhood pact for them!” She glanced at me. “I truly adore Cora. She’s not just beautiful, she has a wonderful personality, so bright and cheerful…” I kept my eyes down, not daring to respond. I was afraid one wrong move and the tears would start falling. “Mom!” Hugh frowned, clearly displeased. “You said it yourself, that was your generation’s thing. You and Aunt Amelia are close, why don’t you two get married? What does it have to do with me? What century are we living in, still clinging to those old ideas?” He had no regard for the adults’ feelings. Then he turned to me, his tone harsh, as if I’d put his mother up to it. “Cora, where’s the bracelet my mom gave you?” When I didn’t answer, he strode over, grabbed my wrist, and pushed up my sleeve. “The one they gave you as a token for that childhood pact. I’m afraid Isla will get the wrong idea if she sees it…” The words hung in the air. My dad and his, who had been sipping tea, froze. My mom, who had been arranging flowers for him, stopped cold. The atmosphere turned instantly sour. My mom stared at me, the vase and clippers in her hand clattering onto the table. She started to get up, but Hugh’s mom pulled her back down. Then, she stood up herself, placing herself firmly in front of me and giving Hugh a hard shove. “Hugh! What do you think you’re doing? Putting aside the fact that nothing’s even started between you and this Isla… that bracelet? You were the one who got on your knees and begged Cora to wear it when you were seventeen!” It was like a switch flipped in Hugh’s mind. He remembered. He remembered that year when another boy confessed his feelings to me. Panicked, he’d gotten drunk, stolen the jade bracelet from his mother’s jewelry box, and shown up at my house in the middle of the night, crying, pleading, even kneeling, begging me to wear his family heirloom. He tugged at his collar, took a deep breath, and forced a smile at me. “I’m just a little tense. I… it’s not right to take back a gift… you can keep it.” “It’s fine. I’ll give it back. I’ll go home and get it now.” I stood up, cutting him off, my voice steady. “I’ll be quick. I won’t hold things up.” Before anyone could react, I grabbed my bag and walked out. 4 When I returned with the bracelet and was about to knock, a chorus of cheers from inside stopped me— “Welcome—” Hugh’s smile froze the moment he saw me. “What are you doing here?” He clearly hadn’t expected me to come back, let alone to actually return the bracelet. When I held it out to him, his face was a mask of disbelief. He finally took it, pocketed it, and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Cora, for the sake of our… partnership, don’t you dare cause any trouble today. Isla’s a sensitive girl. Don’t say the wrong thing and upset her.” I didn’t want to even look at him. Isla was a girl, but wasn’t I? I looked at the person I had loved for my entire youth, and a bone-deep chill threatened to swallow me whole. Ten minutes later, Isla arrived, escorted by the matchmaker. The adults chatted amiably. This was why my parents had to be here—to subtly lay out our family’s finances and future prospects for the matchmaker’s benefit. Throughout it all, Hugh sat beside Isla, his every gesture radiating care. At nearly thirty, he was acting like a green, infatuated teenager. I was completely irrelevant, which suited me fine. I was just looking for a chance to slip away. But then, Isla turned her gentle gaze on me. “You must be Cora. I’ve heard so much about you. The goddess of the arts department, wasn’t it?” Startled to be addressed, I waved my hands dismissively. “Oh, no, not at all. That was just everyone fooling around in college.” I hoped the attention would quickly shift away, but Isla persisted. “Not at all! I remember you performed a classical dance at the university ball. The next day, the entire ground floor of your dorm was flooded with flowers for you.” Before I could speak, she tugged playfully at Hugh’s arm. “You two are childhood friends. How did you not end up together? I remember you were inseparable. Everyone thought you’d get married.” Every eye in the room turned to me. I don’t know how to describe it, but this seemingly harmless woman radiated a strange hostility. “Her?” Hugh looked at Isla, handing her a freshly peeled apple. “To you, she might be a girl, a goddess even. But to me, she’s just a tomboy. My best friend, the one I grew up sharing everything with.” A memory seemed to surface, and he chuckled. “You have no idea. When Cora cried as a kid, snot and tears would just stream down her face. If I didn’t wipe it for her, that big glob of snot would’ve gone right into her mouth.” He warmed to his theme. “And when she was fifteen, she fainted during gym class from running and started talking nonsense, flailing her arms around like a maniac…” “I have to go, I have something to do.” I stood up, barely containing my fury, and forced a smile at the adults. “You all enjoy your chat.” Isla looked at Hugh with a troubled expression. “Did I say something wrong to upset your little sister?” Hugh glared at me, as if blaming me for ruining the atmosphere. Before he could speak, I cut him off. “I have a date with my boyfriend tonight. If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.” 5 “Since when do you have a boyfriend?” I had one foot out the door when Hugh grabbed my arm. “How come I don’t know about this?” My face flushed hot in front of everyone, especially Isla. I wrenched my arm free. “Why do you care if I have a boyfriend or not?” I snapped. “My own parents haven’t even asked. It’s none of your business!” “Hugh!” his father said in a low, stern voice. “Sit down! What kind of behavior is this?” I took the opportunity to bow to the adults. “Goodbye, Uncle, Auntie.” From behind me, Isla’s sweet voice piped up. “Cora is so beautiful, and she’s always performing on stage. She must have plenty of admirers… It’s perfectly normal for her to be dating. I even saw what looked like a hickey under her scarf earlier.”

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