Category: English

On my wedding day, I, the bride, had to take an Uber to my own venue. When the wedding limo and the luxury convoy arrived to pick me up, my fiancé blocked me right in front of the car door. “Let Lily have this ride. I’ll call you another Uber.” I froze on the spot, completely speechless. Ethan continued, without a hint of guilt. “Lily is anti-marriage, but she really wanted to know what it feels like to be a bride.” “I already promised her. She’ll be the one walking down the aisle for the entrance ceremony today.” I looked past his shoulder. His childhood best friend, Lily, had already changed into a gorgeous white wedding gown and was sitting comfortably in the main bridal car. Seeing tears welling up in my eyes, Ethan sighed, trying to comfort me with a dismissive tone. “A wedding is just a performance anyway. As long as we get the legal marriage license, we’re good.” “Besides, once Lily is done with her little experience, you can always walk the aisle again.” With that, he turned around without a second glance. The convoy of dozens of luxury sports cars roared to life, speeding away and leaving me in a cloud of dust. I closed my eyes, fighting back the lump in my throat. It had been like this ever since we started planning the wedding. Just because Lily was “anti-marriage” and would never have a wedding of her own in the future. So, she had to try on my wedding dress first. She had to pick the wedding venue. And now, she even got to “experience” my own wedding ceremony first. The traffic light turned red ahead, but the wedding convoy sped up, leaving my Uber far behind in the distance. My driver gripped the steering wheel, glancing at me through the rearview mirror, and called out. “Where to now, miss?” I stared at the empty road where the tail lights of the luxury cars had vanished. I forced a faint smile at the driver. “Don’t worry about the venue. Please turn around.” Whether it was a wedding or a man, I had no interest in using something that had already been used and “experienced” by someone else.

My voice fell right into the silence between songs playing on the car radio. The air in the car quieted down for a few seconds. The driver was stunned. He leaned back slightly, his voice rising in disbelief. “What did you say? Turn around?” I gently rubbed the fabric of my wedding dress. I unlocked my phone. On my lock screen, there was our pre-wedding photo. Ethan and I were smiling so happily, looking like the perfect couple. Outside, the gossiping voices of pedestrians drifted through the cracked window. “Did you see that? That wedding convoy was insane! Maseratis, Porsches… dozens of luxury cars!” “They say the more expensive the wedding cars, the more blessed the bride is. The groom must be head over heels in love with her.” My fingers trembled slightly. Another passerby sighed. “Well, different people, different fates. I just came from the Grand Plaza Hotel, and I literally saw a bride arriving in an Uber.” “No way… That’s so embarrassing…” My phone screen went black. I squeezed the hem of my dress, wrinkling the delicate lace. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and repeated clearly. “Yes.” “Take me back to my hotel. I’m not getting married anymore.” The countdown ended, and the red light turned green. A horn honked impatiently behind us. The driver swallowed whatever questions he had left. He quickly spun the steering wheel, making a sharp U-turn. As the car smoothed out on the road, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Ethan. “I told the convoy to speed up on purpose so you couldn’t keep up. Don’t try to chase us.” “Tell your driver to take it slow. Don’t arrive at the hotel at the same time as Lily. She hates it when people steal her spotlight.” “Also, enter through the back door near the kitchen later. Lily is sensitive. If people see you entering the main ballroom at the same time as her, it’ll be hard for her to explain.” It was rare for Ethan to send me such a long message. From her feelings to her reputation, every single word was carefully thought out for Lily. But just a moment ago, when he dragged me out of my own wedding car in front of everyone and forced me into an Uber, he never once considered if people would gossip about me. He never thought about whether I would lose my dignity. I opened the chat box and slowly typed out. “I’m calling off the wedding. Do whatever you want.” Just as I was about to press send, notifications started popping up frantically at the top of my screen. It was the Snapchat group chat with Ethan’s friends. Ever since they added me, the group had been dead silent. But suddenly, it was blowing up. “Lily: Being a bride for a day.” Dozens of photos instantly flooded the chat. They were taken inside the wedding limo. Lily was clinging to Ethan, posing for countless intimate couple photos. Making finger hearts, pressing their cheeks together… My gaze lingered on the last photo for a long time. In the photo, Ethan had his head resting in the palm of Lily’s hand, smiling with pure, gentle adoration. I had shown him this exact pose before our photoshoot, using a reference picture. At the time, he had scoffed, saying it was cheesy and childish. The replies in the group chat started rolling in immediately. “Honestly, you two are the ultimate soulmates. I’ve been shipping you guys since we were kids, and it’s finally happening!” That was Logan, Ethan’s childhood best friend. He had once told me how grateful he was that I healed Ethan’s broken heart after Lily went abroad. He said we were a match made in heaven. “If I knew it was you two getting married today, I wouldn’t have skipped the reception! I couldn’t stand watching that boring rebound girl take advantage of Lily being away. Is it too late to buy a plane ticket and fly back now?” That was Tyler, Ethan’s cousin. Once, Ethan asked me to deliver some important documents he forgot at home. It was pouring rain that day, and my car skidded and hit a light pole. When I limped into his office to deliver them, Tyler almost cried, saying those documents were for a multi-million-dollar project and that I was his savior. And then there were Ethan’s other cousins, college roommates, old classmates… Ethan had introduced me to every single person in this group. When we met in person, they were always polite and nice. But behind my back, they degraded and insulted me without mercy. Calling me a plain-jane, a desperate clinger, an opportunist… Then, Ethan sent a message, completely unfazed. “Don’t talk about her. Just focus on how beautiful Lily looks today.” My hands shook with rage as I typed furiously. “Are you guys serious?” “Do you all disgust yourselves, or is it just me?” The moment my message popped up, the group chat fell dead silent for two seconds. The last message sent was. “Oh shit, guys, wrong group chat.”

Before I could type anything else, Ethan’s name flashed across my screen. He was calling me, fast and urgent. I pressed answer. There was no apology, no explanation. Only two cold words. “Apologize now.” A wave of absurdity washed over me. “Me? Apologize?” I almost laughed out loud from sheer anger. “What am I apologizing for? For you guys talking trash about me behind my back? Or for the fact that you created a separate group chat just to exclude me after adding me to this one?” The line went silent for a few seconds. Then, I heard Ethan let out a weary, frustrated sigh. “Hazel, you’re not a hundred-dollar bill. You can’t expect everyone to love you.” “The people in that group grew up with Lily and me. You’re a new addition, so it’s normal if some of them don’t accept you right away. Lily was trying to be respectful by adding you to the group in the first place.” I tilted my head back, forcing the tears back. “So what?” Ethan paused, his voice dropping a fraction. “Just apologize in the group. Say you don’t mind the jokes.” “Lily is… she’s crying really hard right now. She feels incredibly guilty. She thinks this is all her fault for adding you to the chat.” My chest felt like it had been pierced by a gaping hole, letting the cold wind howl through. So, just because Lily cried, I had to bow my head and apologize to the very people who had just humiliated me. He kept talking, but I couldn’t hear a word after that. Tears blurred my vision, and I choked out. “Ethan, we’re done.” “The wedding is off. And we are never getting that marriage license.” Ethan didn’t answer. Someone muffled the phone speaker on his end. I could faintly hear the rustle of clothes, tissues, and Lily’s soft sobbing. And then, Ethan’s patient, gentle cooing. “Hey, don’t cry. Hazel said she doesn’t blame you. She’s just being overly sensitive.” “Wipe your tears. You’re about to go on stage. Didn’t you say you wanted to look perfect for the photos?” It took a while before the other side quieted down. Ethan’s voice came through clearly again, dripping with annoyance. “Alright, hurry up and apologize in the group. We’re literally getting married today, why are you throwing a tantrum now? I don’t have time to baby you on our wedding day.” Remembering what I had just said, he let out a scoff. “Besides, call off the wedding? Like you’d actually be willing to do that.” Ten years of being together. He was entirely convinced I would never leave him. I hung up. I slid over to the side of the seat and rolled down the window. I let the harsh wind ruin my hair and makeup, which had taken three hours to perfect. The Uber driver, who had heard the entire conversation, looked like he wanted to say something. Finally, he couldn’t help himself. “What kind of guy is that? How did a jerk like him even get a girl like you?” “Back when I married my wife, I treated her like a queen. I literally carried her over the threshold.” Carried? A faint ache spread through my chest. Ethan used to carry me, too. During our sophomore year, a massive blizzard hit the campus. The snow was knee-deep, and classes were canceled. I had a fever of 104 degrees. My roommates were panicking, trying to cool me down with frozen towels, crying because they didn’t know what to do. It was Ethan who broke into the girls’ dorm, picked me up, and carried me on his back to the campus hospital three miles away. Through my hazy consciousness, I remembered how he was shivering, slipping and falling in the snow over and over again. But I was warm. I didn’t feel the wind at all. Because he had taken off his only heavy winter coat to wrap around me. In the end, he suffered severe exhaustion and frostbite. Back then, his love was so real that even the freezing blizzard couldn’t hide it. The driver shook his head in disbelief after hearing my story. “How does a guy go from that to… this?” I stared out the window in silence. I didn’t know. Or maybe, I did. He changed the moment Lily came back to the country. The first time he lost his temper and shattered our matching couple cups was because of Lily. The first time he left me stranded at my office in the middle of a thunderstorm until midnight was because he went to pick up Lily. The first time I had to undergo surgery, he was at an amusement park riding roller coasters with Lily. Ever since Lily announced she was anti-marriage, Ethan seemed to find the perfect excuse to openly show her favoritism. Countless “first times,” countless compromises. They all piled up until, before I knew it, we ended up here. When I left the Snapchat group, Ethan sent me a single question mark. And then, nothing. To him, this was just another one of my silent protests. He believed that in no time, I would crawl back, apologize, and beg for his forgiveness. But this time, I was truly exhausted.

Under the pitying and surprised gaze of the receptionist, I dragged my heavy gown back to my hotel room. I washed off my makeup and struggled out of the wedding dress. Collapsing onto the bed, I stared at the blank white ceiling, feeling completely detached. How did everything fall apart so fast? Just last night, in this very bed, I was too excited to sleep. I opened my phone. Lily had just posted on her Instagram. “Just to make sure certain people don’t get triggered again, here’s a quick video for everyone! This is purely a fun practice run. Ethan and I did absolutely nothing out of line!” The video was a clip of the ceremony. Like a masochist, I clicked play. I watched Lily, dressed in a gorgeous white gown, walking gracefully toward Ethan amidst the applause of friends and family. They stood before the officiant, vowing to never part, until death do them part. Then they exchanged rings, locking their fingers together. I let out a bitter, hollow laugh. They did everything except kiss. And yet, they had the nerve to tell me they didn’t cross any lines. Lily’s Instagram updates came fast and furious. They showed her raising a glass to his parents, receiving welcome-to-the-family checks, pouring the champagne tower, and listening to the parental speeches… Without realizing it, they had gone far beyond the “simple walk down the aisle” Ethan had promised me. Only after the bouquet toss did Ethan finally send me a lazy text. “Are you at the hotel? Wait in the dressing room for a bit. Lily was having so much fun, so she ended up doing the rest of the ceremony too.” “Don’t be mad. Just think of this as your apology for making her cry earlier.” The dressing room was literally two doors down from the main ballroom. Yet, he didn’t even bother to walk over and check on me. I didn’t reply. Instead, I took a screenshot from the corner of Lily’s video. It was a picture of a smashed, ruined wedding cake. I sent it to him. “Why did you let her touch my cake?” “It’s just a cake, Hazel. Don’t make a big deal out of it. I’ll have the hotel buy another one.” I bit my lip until it went pale. “Did you forget everything you promised me?” Why? Why did my heart still hurt so much when I was already this disappointed? My dream wedding dress, which I had visited over a dozen boutiques to find, was ruined when Lily secretly tried it on and ripped the seams. Ethan said, “It’s just a dress, let’s get another one.” The beautiful garden chapel I had picked was secretly changed by Lily into a fantasy-themed indoor ballroom. Ethan said, “Let’s go with her choice, she has better taste.” Near the end of the wedding planning, my only demand was that I make the wedding cake myself. As a pastry chef, this was my ultimate dream. Back then, Lily hadn’t returned to the country yet. Ethan had stood in front of my newly opened bakery, gently pinching my nose. “My girl is so easy to please.” “Fine. On our wedding day, I’ll personally make sure every single guest finishes their slice and writes a 500-word review for our master chef.” I had laughed and thrown myself into his arms. “Shut up!” I kept rewinding the video, watching that short clip. The cake I had spent days preparing at the hotel kitchen was hacked into pieces. Before I could even have a single bite, Lily had smashed a handful of it onto the face of one of Ethan’s friends. The crowd roared with laughter, playfully smearing frosting all over each other. My dream was trampled to the ground, smeared on the walls, and thrown into the trash. Ethan’s reply paused for a few seconds. When the next message popped up, it stabbed right into my heart. “Hazel, don’t be so ungrateful.” “It’s just a cake. Why are you being so petty? None of your family members even showed up today. Lily had to ask her own friends to be your bridesmaids just to save you some face.” The old scar was ripped wide open. I tapped my screen so hard it almost cracked. “Why my parents refused to come? Aren’t you the one who knows why best?!” He went silent. The pain I had buried deep inside rushed back, settling heavy in my lower abdomen. I remembered that day. The floor covered in bright red blood. The tearing, agonizing pain. In my panic, I had dialed the number of the person I trusted most. The moment the call went through, a loud, bratty female voice shrieked on the other end. “Hey, Mr. Busy Man! You promised to spend the whole day with me today! Turn off your phone, no taking calls!” Then came the loud music of the amusement park parade, followed by a sharp click. He hung up on me. And I lost my baby.

When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed. The first person I saw wasn’t Ethan, but my roommate. She was the one who found me passed out on the living room floor after work, rushed me to the ER, and signed the consent form for the emergency surgery. At that time, we had known each other for less than a month, yet she took the risk to sign those papers for me. Meanwhile, my fiancé had hung up on my emergency call to watch a parade with his female best friend. The doctor looked at me with deep sympathy. “It was a threatened miscarriage. If you had been brought in just thirty minutes earlier, we might have saved the baby.” A suffocating despair had consumed me. I called Ethan dozens of times. But I waited until nightfall, and the only people who arrived were my parents, who had driven hundreds of miles. Ethan, who was only three miles away at the theme park with Lily, never showed up. That day, I was completely heartbroken. I packed my bags and went home with my parents. Remembering this, I opened the chat with my cousin, Mia. Before the wedding, she had messaged me. “Hazel, is the wedding starting?” A few minutes later, she added. “Don’t be too sad. Even though Uncle and Aunt didn’t let us attend, they actually regret it.” “I know you guys will patch things up eventually.” She had sent me a video. Looking at my parents on the thumbnail, I hadn’t had the courage to open it before. But now, my hands shook as I pressed play. In the video, my parents’ eyes were red. My mom was wiping her tears. “Why is Hazel so stubborn? We told her that man is trash.” “What kind of man abandons his fiancé during a miscarriage to play with another woman?” “And what happened? He knelt in the snow for one night, got himself hospitalized, made some empty promise, and her heart softened immediately.” My dad held his coffee mug, staring silently at the floor. My mom slapped his arm in frustration. “You too! Why did you have to say such harsh things? Saying you’d disown her if she married him.” “Now look what happened. Our girl actually ran away.” Looking at the new gray hairs on my parents’ heads, my tears dripped onto the screen. After a long silence, my dad took a credit card from his wallet and handed it to Mia. “Mia, give this to Hazel when you have time.” “There’s fifty thousand dollars on it. Don’t let her struggle out there.” The emotions I had suppressed all day finally exploded. I covered my face, sobbing uncontrollably until my throat went dry and hoarse. Only one thought remained in my mind. I wanted to go home. I didn’t care about packing neatly. I threw everything into my suitcase. I couldn’t even wait for the flight next morning. I booked a long-distance Uber for two thousand dollars to take me straight home. Just as I zipped my suitcase, Ethan called. “Why aren’t you replying to my Snapchats?” I didn’t answer. He clicked his tongue, his tone casual and dismissive. “We accidentally got a bit carried away, and the decorations in the main ballroom got kind of ruined.” “I had the hotel set up a smaller room. We’ll do our vows there.” The main ballroom was ten thousand square feet. The small room was barely one thousand. The girl who was “experiencing” the wedding got the grand ballroom, while the actual bride was relegated to a tiny side room. In Ethan’s mouth, it sounded as simple as moving a parking spot. But I was too tired to care. I replied quietly, “Okay.” Hearing no complaints or tears, Ethan was taken aback. Once he realized I wasn’t fighting back, he let out a sigh of relief. “Good girl.” “The hotel is setting it up now. I also ordered an identical wedding cake from another bakery.” He paused, his voice softening with a rare touch of tenderness. “Hazel, you’re about to become my wife.” “The ceremony starts at nine. Make sure you’re there on time.” The call ended. I slipped the diamond ring off my ring finger and left it carelessly on the hotel nightstand. Then, I turned around and got into the Uber heading home.

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Before my birthday party even started, Ethan cast his phone screen onto the massive TV in our VIP lounge booth. He started an anonymous poll in our Snapchat group. The question was: Should I stay with my girlfriend to cut her birthday cake tonight, or take my childhood best friend, Melanie, to her movie premiere? A thirty-second countdown. The votes rolled in instantly. Melanie: 17 votes. Me: 1 vote. Everyone assumed that one single vote was mine. Ethan leaned back on the leather sofa, a smirk playing on his lips when he saw the results. “Well, majority rules.” Melanie immediately slid her movie ticket into his palm. “See? Even everyone else thinks you should be with me tonight.” I stood there in my favorite dress, staring at my birthday cake. The candles weren’t even lit yet. Someone in the booth let out a sharp whistle. “Come on, Chloe, don’t be a sore loser.” Right. This kind of voting had been going on for three years. When we argued, they voted to decide who should apologize first. When we went on dates, they voted to decide whose hand he should hold. Even when I asked him if he loved me, he would throw the question into the group chat. “Let’s let everyone judge this,” he’d say. I used to think that if I could just win once, it would mean he had finally chosen me. But I never won. Not even tonight. Ethan stood up and grabbed his jacket. As he walked past me, he casually ruffled my hair. “Be good. I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” I stared at the poll results on the big screen, locked my phone, and pushed the cake knife toward him. “No need.” “Ethan, I’m opting out.” 1 The VIP booth fell dead silent for a few seconds. Ethan’s hand froze mid-air, just above my head. Melanie was the first to let out a soft giggle, as if she had just heard a harmless joke. “Chloe, don’t be like that. It’s your birthday.” Ethan pulled his hand back, his brows furrowing deep. “Chloe, everyone is watching. Don’t throw a tantrum just because you lost.” In the past, the moment he raised his voice, I would be the first to bow my head. I was afraid of making him unhappy, afraid of his friends mocking me, afraid of being called “too dramatic” over nothing. But this time, I just reached down and pulled the candles out of the cake, one by one. “I’m not the one making things look ugly here.” Melanie immediately tugged at Ethan’s sleeve. “Ethan, forget it. I don’t need to see the movie anymore.” Though she said she didn’t care, she held the ticket so tight her knuckles turned white. Our mutual friends immediately started chiming in. “The poll is closed, we can’t break the rules!” “Yeah, Melanie, just go. Chloe can celebrate her birthday tomorrow anyway.” Ethan checked his watch. The movie started in twenty minutes. He remained silent for a moment, then shrugged into his coat. “I’ll drive her there.” “If you still want to celebrate, wait for me here.” “Don’t make me have to comfort both of you every single time.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “I said, no need.” He ignored me, walking straight past me. Melanie followed closely behind him. As she passed me, she let out a gentle sigh. “Chloe, you know he hates being forced to choose.” The moment the door clicked shut, the music in the booth blasted back to life. The poll on the giant screen was still active. Melanie: 17. Me:

That lonely single vote hung there, looking like the last shred of my dignity. My phone buzzed. A new poll popped up in the group chat. This time, it wasn’t anonymous. How many minutes until Chloe runs out to apologize? Ten minutes. Half an hour. Tomorrow morning. Melanie voted for “ten minutes.” Someone replied with a laughing emoji. “Don’t overestimate her. Five minutes is enough.” “She can’t live without Ethan.” Ethan didn’t vote. But he didn’t stop them either. In the chat, someone suddenly asked, “Hey, that one vote for the girlfriend earlier… Chloe voted for herself, right?” Melanie replied with a giggling emoji. “Who else would vote for her?” I stared at the screen, my fingertips growing icy cold. They didn’t even believe that the single vote could have come from anyone else. I left the group chat. I left my birthday tiara on the table. The gold paper was damp from spilled alcohol, drooping sadly. I grabbed my purse and walked out. Someone behind me called out, “Chloe, you’re actually leaving?” I didn’t look back. The hallway was long and quiet. The glass walls reflected my reflection. A white dress, red eyes, and empty hands. I looked like a clown who had finally run out of jokes. 2 Ethan didn’t get back until 1:00 AM. I was busy packing his things. In our three years of dating, his presence had filled every corner of my apartment. His sneakers in the hallway, his razor in the bathroom, his lighter in the couch cushions. Even the throw pillows I bought had been replaced with his favorite gray ones. I was taping up the last box of his books when the front door unlocked. Ethan stood in the doorway, smelling of the cold night air and a faint perfume. It was Melanie’s signature scent. The moment he saw the cardboard boxes, his face darkened. “Are you doing this again?” I pulled a strip of tape. “I’ll have someone pick these up tomorrow.” He walked over and slammed his hand onto the box. “Chloe, I already tried to give you an out about the birthday thing.” “How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” I looked up at him. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “I’m packing.” Ethan let out a frustrated laugh. “I took Melanie to a movie, and now you want to break up?” “You saw it yourself. The group voted for it.” My hands paused. “So, you honestly think you did nothing wrong?” He frowned. “I was just following the rules.” The rules. Again. Three years ago, during our very first poll, he used the exact same words. He had promised to make our relationship public that day. But Melanie posted a poll in the group chat first. Will Ethan going public with his relationship ruin our group dynamic? Yes: 15 votes. No: 2 votes. Ethan looked at the results and ruffled my hair. “We can go public later, babe. Everyone thinks now isn’t the right time.” So I waited three months. I waited until Melanie’s birthday, when he posted a photo of them together on Instagram. Then came New Year’s Eve, the passenger seat of his car, our anniversary, the first slice of cake. Time after time, I was put up for a vote, and time after time, I was voted out. I grabbed my old backup phone, unlocked it, and opened a folder. Inside were screenshots from the last three years. Two hundred and seventy-six screenshots. Ethan froze. “Why did you save these?” I turned the screen toward him. “So I wouldn’t get soft-hearted.” “And so I’d never forget why I had to leave.” His face went rigid. “Chloe, you’re becoming incredibly bitter.” “Bitter?” I let out a soft laugh. “Compared to watching all of you vote on my life over and over, this is actually pretty dignified.” Ethan averted his gaze. After a long silence, he muttered, “You never used to care so much about these things.” “Because I used to believe that just once, you would choose me.” He fell silent. I slid the box toward his feet. “That vote last night? It wasn’t mine.” Ethan looked up, as if he had just heard something absurd. “If it wasn’t you, who else could it be?” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t know either. I only knew that when the countdown started, my hands were at my sides. I hadn’t even touched my phone. Perhaps it was my last shred of pride that stopped me from begging for a vote in front of a room full of people. Ethan stared at me for a long time, then suddenly kicked the box aside. “Fine.” “If you want to clear things out, make sure you don’t leave anything behind.” Right then, his phone lit up. A message from Melanie. Ethan, is Chloe still mad at me? Should I take her out for lunch tomorrow and apologize in person? Ethan didn’t try to hide the screen from me. He typed back quickly. She’s still throwing a fit. We’ll figure it out tomorrow. Looking at those words, I felt a sudden wave of amusement. To him, I wasn’t heartbroken or disappointed. I was just “throwing a fit.” I bent down, straightened the box, and taped it shut. “Ethan, we’re over.” With his back to me, he let out a cold laugh. “You’ve said that so many times.” “But you’ve never actually left, have you?” 3 Around noon the next day, my friend Sophia called me. Her voice sounded hesitant. “Chloe, Ethan called me earlier. He said you left some things at the lounge last night.” “He said you aren’t picking up his calls, so he asked me to let you know.” I was silent for a few seconds. Sophia quickly added, “I’ll go with you. We’ll grab your stuff and leave right away.” But when we arrived at the VIP lounge, the booth was packed with people. Sophia’s expression shifted instantly. She hissed under her breath, “He told me it was just your gifts here. He didn’t say the whole gang would be here.” Ethan sat in the center. Melanie sat right next to him, her eyes red and puffy as if she had cried all night. A small cake sat on the table. The candles were already lit. The moment she saw me, Melanie stood up. “Chloe, I’m so sorry.” She walked over to me with a glass of champagne, her voice trembling. “Last night was my fault. I shouldn’t have joked around with the movie ticket.” “Please don’t break up with Ethan because of me, okay?” Ethan looked up. “Melanie already apologized, Chloe. Stop being so stubborn.” “Everyone just wants to clear the air.” As soon as he finished speaking, the giant screen lit up. Someone laughed and raised their phone. “Why don’t we settle this the old-fashioned way?” A poll popped up on the screen. Should Chloe drink a glass of champagne with Melanie to officially make up? Before the countdown even ended, the votes were completely one-sided. Yes: 18. No: 0. It was as if the results had been decided before I even walked in. Melanie bit her lower lip. “Guys, don’t do this. It’ll make Chloe uncomfortable.” Ethan pushed a glass toward me. “Drink, and let’s move past this.” I stared down at the amber liquid. The sloshing champagne reflected my tired face. Over the past three years, I had drunk so many of these glasses. To not ruin the mood. To give him an out. To prove I was cool. To keep Ethan from frowning. I picked up the glass. Ethan’s expression softened a bit. Melanie let out a small sigh of relief. But in the next second, I dumped the entire glass of champagne straight into the ice bucket beside me. The sharp clatter of ice echoing in the room made everyone freeze. I placed the empty glass back on the table. “I’m not drinking to this.” “And you don’t need to notify me when you decide to ‘move past’ things.” Ethan’s face hardened instantly. “Chloe, do you have to do this?” “Do what?” I looked at him. “You guys start a poll, force me to drink, force me to be the bigger person, and force me to pretend I’m not hurt.” “And then you ask me why I’m making a scene?” Tears began to roll down Melanie’s cheeks. “I really just wanted to get along with you.” She turned around, pretending to leave. “Ethan, I think I should go. I don’t want Chloe to hate me even more.” Ethan instinctively stood up to hold her back. His reaction was so fast. So fast he didn’t even realize he had done it. But I saw it clearly. He didn’t need a poll. His body had already made the choice for him, a thousand times over. Sophia grabbed my hand and whispered, “Shall we go?” I nodded. Just as we reached the door, Ethan caught up and grabbed my wrist. “You need to make things clear before you leave today.” I shook him off. “I’ve made it very clear.” “We are broken up. She apologized. You two can carry on.” His eyes flared with anger. “I didn’t agree to a breakup.” I laughed. “Oh, so we have to vote on breakups now too?” My phone buzzed. A new poll had been posted in the group. Will Chloe come back tonight? Yes. Definitely yes. Only two options. No third choice. I held my phone screen in front of Ethan’s face. “Look.” “They’ve even decided my return for me.” Ethan’s face went pale. Melanie stood behind him, calling softly, “Ethan, please don’t fight with Chloe because of me.” He didn’t chase after me. At least, not in that moment. I walked out of the lounge into the overcast evening. On my phone, the moving company sent a confirmation text. Hi Chloe, we are scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at 3:00 PM. I typed back a single word. Perfect. 4 The sky stayed gray on moving day. I stood in the empty living room, watching the cardboard boxes stack up against the walls. Faint outlines remained on the paint where my picture frames used to hang. They looked like scars left behind after a relationship had been violently ripped away. My landlord called me, sounding troubled. “Chloe, Ethan reached out to me. He said you’re just having a small fight and told me not to process the lease termination yet.” I dropped the spare key into an envelope. “Just follow the contract, please.” The landlord hesitated. “He said you’d regret it.” I smiled gently. “That’s his opinion.” Right after I hung up, the doorbell rang. Ethan was standing outside. He was wearing the same black coat from the night before, his expression grim. He didn’t ring the bell again. He just texted me. Open the door. Stop trying to scare me with this moving stuff. Chloe, my patience is wearing thin. I didn’t reply. Ten minutes later, another text arrived. What do you want me to do? Looking at that sentence, I suddenly remembered the first time I backed down, three years ago. I had asked him the exact same thing back then. “Ethan, what do you want me to do?” At the time, he said, “Just stop being so sensitive.” It turned out some words eventually find their way back to you. Except this time, the pain was on him. By the time the movers arrived, Ethan was still standing in the hallway. When the door opened, his eyes didn’t land on me. They swept past me into the empty apartment. The shoe rack was empty. The coffee table was gone. Even the little plant he always complained was ugly was cradled in my arms. His face finally cracked. “You’re actually serious?” I nodded. “Yeah.” He reached out to grab my suitcase. “Where are you going?” I stepped back. “None of your business.” Ethan grit his teeth. “Chloe, don’t take this too far.” “I sent Melanie home last night.” “I didn’t participate in their polls either.” “What more do you want from me?” I looked at him. To him, simply stopping the hurt was already considered a massive compromise. I pulled out my old phone from my purse. The screen displayed a poll I had just created. Is Ethan worth Chloe’s second chance? Option 1: No. Option 2: Absolutely not. Total voters: 1. I clicked the second option. Ethan’s face turned incredibly pale as he saw the screen. “Are you being childish?” “I learned from the best.” I handed him the phone. “In the last three years, you let them vote on my life 1,276 times.” “Ethan, now it’s my turn to choose.” His voice dropped, cold and sharp. “Don’t you dare.” I shoved the envelope into his coat pocket. Inside was the key. The couple’s bracelet he bought me. And the movie ticket from last night, ripped in half. “I choose to vote you out.” Ethan grabbed my wrist tightly. “Chloe!” The movers stood by the elevator, looking incredibly awkward. I looked down at his grip on my wrist. In the past, whenever he held me like this, I would soften up. Even if my chest was tight with tears and hurt, I would immediately think, Is he finally trying to keep me? But this time, I only felt annoyed. I peeled his fingers away, one by one. “Don’t touch me.” Ethan froze. His fingers hovered in the air, as if he was realizing for the very first time that I could actually push him away. Just then, his phone buzzed. A message from Melanie popped up with a screenshot of a new poll. How many days until Chloe crawls back this time? Three days. A week. Two weeks max. Melanie’s profile picture was under “Three days.” Ethan’s hand trembled. He instinctively locked his screen, but it was too late. I had already seen it. At that moment, the lingering ache in my chest finally disappeared. I dropped my old phone into his palm. “You guys enjoy your bets.” “I’m out of the game.”

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When Ethan’s little secretary booked a divorce filing appointment instead of our marriage license appointment for the 99th time, I stormed straight into his office. “Ethan, is this the high standard of an Ivy League graduate you kept bragging about?” “If she can’t even handle a simple booking, fire her immediately!” Ethan looked up from a stack of documents, glanced at my phone, and spoke in a flat voice. “I’ve told you before, a top-tier graduate like her isn’t meant for doing menial chores.” “If you had spent the time you used to throw this tantrum to do it yourself, it would have been booked already.” He didn’t even look up again after saying that. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the office. [Dad, I don’t want Ethan anymore.] Ethan had no idea that the only reason he got to sit in the heir’s seat of the Vance family was because of our family-arranged marriage. Once this alliance was canceled, there were plenty of people in the Vance family ready to take his place.

My dad sighed on the other end of the line, only telling me to think it through before making a final decision. But I knew there was no going back for Ethan and me this time. I stared at the 99 notifications of divorce filing appointments on my phone. “It was just an honest mistake. I’ll tell her to pay more attention next time.” “She has a lot on her plate. It’s normal to make mistakes sometimes.” “Don’t be so hard on a young girl. I’ve already warned her.” Every single mistake was met with his excuses. Behind every single notification was Ethan’s endless indulgence of his secretary, Stella Montgomery. My eyes burned, and my heart felt like it was being pricked by a thousand needles. Just as I put my phone away, Ethan rushed out of his office. “You bothered both our parents just over a petty issue like this?” “Chloe, when will you finally grow out of this princess syndrome?” Ethan frowned, his voice dripping with accusation. I was about to snap back when my hand suddenly felt heavy. Someone had grabbed me. I looked back. It was Stella. “Chloe, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.” “The website keeps glitching. I could have sworn I clicked ‘marriage registration’!” “I’ll book it again for you and Ethan right now. I promise I won’t mess up this time.” Stella’s face was slumped, her voice trembling with sheer grievance. She pulled out her phone and started tapping on the screen, sniffing softly every now and then. The pity in Ethan’s eyes was practically overflowing. Stella held her phone up, showing me the booking interface. “No need.” My face was cold as I tried to push her phone away. Her hand trembled, and her finger swiped across the screen. The page shifted. In that brief split second, I saw a selfie of Ethan and her, their faces pressed close together. I grabbed her wrist. She instantly let go. With a loud clatter, the phone hit the floor and shattered into pieces. Everyone in the office turned to look at us, but no one dared to make a sound. Only Stella started crying even louder, wailing: “Ethan… my mom’s voice notes were on that phone. It’s the only memory I have left of her before she passed away…” “What do I do? What do I do? It’s completely broken now…” Ethan’s heart broke for her. He pulled her into his arms, gently comforting her. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. My mind was flooded with that intimate photo. Ethan claimed to have camera phobia. We didn’t even have a single photo together. He wouldn’t even take pre-wedding photos with me, yet he had so many intimate pictures with another woman. Suppressing the urge to explode right there, I turned to leave. But Ethan wouldn’t let me. “You think you can just walk away after breaking her things?” “Didn’t you hear her? Those were the last voice notes from her deceased mother!” “Chloe, can’t you at least show some basic decency and apologize?” The tenderness in Ethan’s eyes was completely gone, replaced by pure disgust. “Me? Apologize?” “Does she even deserve it?” I forced myself to look him in the eye, though my heart was already shattered into a million pieces. Ethan’s expression grew colder, his words like ice. “If you don’t apologize today, we are not getting married!” The employees in the office gasped, eagerly watching the drama unfold. Ethan had said things like this many times before. Every single time, it was for Stella, and every single time, I was the one who backed down. Ethan and I had been together for ten years. I had chosen him when we were kids. I had dreamed of marrying him for as long as I could remember. But now, the dream was shattered. It was time to wake up. “Fine.” “Let’s not get married then.” Ethan’s hands dropped to his sides, a flash of shock crossing his dark eyes. Without waiting for him to say anything else, I turned and walked out of the building. “Ethan, go after Chloe and comfort her. I’m fine…” “There’s no need to comfort her. She’ll regret this and come crawling back within three days!” Ethan’s dismissive voice echoed behind me. I took a deep breath, forcing my tears back. Ethan had no idea. This time, I wouldn’t regret it. In fact, I was already planning to replace the groom. It was just a marriage, right? What difference did it make who the groom was? That night, Stella’s Snapchat feed blew up. [Who would have thought that right after grad school, I’d find the best boss ever! 💖] The post was accompanied by photos of a five-star Michelin restaurant, the latest iPhone, and a screenshot of a wire transfer of $131,420. The last photo was of Ethan, carefully cutting up a steak and handing it to Stella.

I stared at those three photos over and over again. The more I looked, the more our ten years together felt like a complete joke. In ten years, he had never bought me a single meaningful gift, let alone wired me a single cent. “What’s mine is yours anyway. Wiring money back and forth is pointless,” he used to say. Yet now, he was throwing over a hundred thousand dollars at her without a second thought. Whenever we went out to eat, he would sit there like a king, waiting for me to prepare everything before he would even open his mouth. Every time I asked to take a photo, he refused without fail. But now, Stella got everything I had ever wanted. And she didn’t even have to try. My vision blurred, and the tears finally spilled over. Ding-dong. The doorbell rang. I opened the door to find a delivery man. “Hi, I’m here to deliver the wedding albums.” “I never took any wedding photos.” “That’s impossible. This is Ethan Vance’s residence, right?” I nodded. The delivery man insisted there was no mistake. He carried in several boxes, both large and small. After he left, my hands shook as I tore open the cardboard boxes. The wedding photos featured Ethan and Stella. They had shot eight different concepts. Ethan had accompanied her through countless outfit changes, the bright smile on his face incredibly piercing. These photos stabbed right into my chest. Just as I looked up, Ethan walked through the door, supporting a drunken Stella. “Give me a hand. She’s wasted.” Ethan was so used to ordering me around that he had probably forgotten about our fight at the office. I didn’t move. I pointed at the pile of trash behind me. “I’ll give you five minutes to get this garbage out of my house.” “Including her.” I pointed directly at Stella, whose face was flushed red as she clung to Ethan. “There’s no need to speak so harshly.” “These wedding photos were shot for Stella’s mom. Her mom wanted to see her get married before she passed away.” “It was just to make a dying old lady happy. Why do you have to be so petty?” Stella nodded with teary eyes. “I just wanted my mom to go in peace.” “I put my own address for the delivery, I don’t know how they got sent to Ethan’s place.” “Please don’t be mad. It’s not Ethan’s fault…” Stella sobbed, her words always so full of innocence. It made me look like a bitter, unreasonable villain standing across from them. “An Ivy League graduate can’t even put down her own address correctly?” “Is your brain filled with water?” “Fine. Since you two can’t bear to throw this trash away, I will.” I turned around, grabbed a pair of scissors, and began shredding the wedding posters and albums. I picked up the glass frames and smashed them onto the floor, then cut the photos to pieces one by one. “No!” “Chloe, I can take those with me!” Stella rushed forward with her bare hands to stop me. My scissors ended up slicing right across her hand. A sharp scream instantly sobered Ethan up. He furiously shoved me aside. I lost my balance and fell backward, the shattered glass on the floor digging deep into my palms. “Chloe, have you lost your mind?!” “Smashed things, breaking frames, hurting people—do you even have an ounce of decency left in you?” “Stella’s mother just passed away! You lost your mother too, can’t you have some empathy and be a little kinder to her?!” Ethan’s words pierced straight through my heart. My mother’s death was my greatest regret. When my mom passed away, Ethan and I were studying abroad. Due to the strict travel bans at the time, we couldn’t make it back to see her one last time. I had to say goodbye to my mother through a screen. To this day, I still wake up crying in the middle of the night. Ethan knew all of this. Yet, he chose to use my dead mother to hurt me, all for the sake of Stella. Without looking back, Ethan picked Stella up and left. I looked down at the bleeding cuts on my palm, the bitterness in my heart overflowing. “Mom, the man you chose for me is rotten.” “I don’t want him anymore.” The silent living room offered no reply.

My mother had always adored Ethan. She and Ethan’s mother were best friends, and they had arranged our engagement when we were still kids. My relationship with Ethan was supposed to be a natural path. That was why, when the Vance family was choosing their heir, my dad risked our entire family fortune to help Ethan win his high-stakes venture capital funding round. At twenty years old, Ethan climbed to the top using my family as a stepping stone, securing a hundred-million-dollar deal. Later, when my mom was dying, Ethan knelt in front of the camera and promised her, word for word: “Auntie, don’t worry. I will make Chloe the happiest woman in the world.” Later, we finished our studies and returned home, and our wedding was put on the agenda. But everything changed in the beginning of this year when Stella joined the company as an intern. The train of our relationship suddenly derailed. As his secretary, Stella would often call and text Ethan in the middle of the night. Once, we were in bed together when her call came. Ethan didn’t even pull up his pants before answering it. I had my suspicions, and I had checked his phone. But I found nothing. The first time I met Stella, she was sitting in Ethan’s passenger seat. That day was supposed to be the day we got our marriage license. Before we could even enter the courthouse, Ethan was called away by a phone call from Stella. I didn’t even have time to ask what happened. I waited until the courthouse closed. Later, when Ethan drove back to pick me up, Stella saw me and sensibly got out of the passenger seat to sit in the back. “If it weren’t for Ethan’s help today, my mother wouldn’t even have gotten into the hospital.” “Chloe, I am so sorry. I didn’t know you guys were getting your marriage license today.” “I’ll handle the booking for you next time!” I had heard about her taking care of her terminally ill mother all by herself, and my empathy got the best of me. My suspicions about Ethan and her dissipated. But the repeated “glitches” and wrong bookings made me re-examine their relationship. Ethan’s defense of her became more and more blatant, even humiliating me in public. I finally realized that under the guise of sympathy, Ethan had given her his love. After getting my hands bandaged at the hospital, I went back home. As soon as I walked in, I smelled food. Ethan was busy in the kitchen. He froze for a second when he saw me, holding a bowl of soup. “Take this soup to Stella and apologize to her. Let’s just put this behind us.” Before I could refuse, Ethan shoved the hot bowl into my bandaged hands. Seeing my wrapped hands, he spoke with a hint of disdain. “Stop playing the victim.” “Chloe, honestly, you should spend more time reading books and refining your manners.” “Compared to Stella, you really lack class.” The burns on my hands stung painfully, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. Right in front of Ethan, I poured the hot soup onto the floor. The bowl shattered, splashing the hot liquid everywhere. I shrugged. “Ethan, if you have time, go get your brain and eyes checked.” “I don’t need to compare myself to her.” Ethan’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning with rage. “Chloe, how could you do that?!” “Ethan made that soup himself!” I turned to look at Stella, who was leaning against the doorframe. “You want some?” Stella stared at me blankly. Before she could react, I grabbed her by the hair. “Since Ethan made it himself, we shouldn’t let it go to waste.” “Drink it all!” I slammed her face down toward the spilled soup on the floor. Stella struggled, pawing at the floor and whimpering. Ethan kicked me hard in the back, tearing me away and pulling her into his chest. “Chloe, you’re a absolute psycho!” I ignored Ethan’s roaring curses behind me and walked back to my room. Staring at the blood seeping through my bandages, the tears finally fell. Standing by the window, I dialed the number my dad had given me. “Tomorrow at 1:00 PM at the courthouse. Does that work for you?” The man on the other end seemed to be in a meeting. He gave a soft, low affirmation. “I’ll have my assistant clear the schedule.” Shortly after hanging up, I received a confirmation for our marriage appointment. Amid the 99 notifications of divorce filings, this single marriage booking was exceptionally clear. It turned out booking a wedding was actually this simple. “Who were you on the phone with so late?” Ethan suddenly pushed the door open, his eyes falling on the bloody bandages on the floor. “You’re actually hurt?”

A flash of regret crossed Ethan’s eyes. He walked over and gently inspected my palms. “I didn’t know it was this bad.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” Ethan grabbed some fresh bandages to dress my wounds. His gentle, meticulous touch made me feel dazed. Ever since we started fighting over Stella, he hadn’t treated me like this in a very long time. Between us, there had been nothing but hostility and sarcasm. When you’ve bottled up so much pain, a sudden moment of care can completely break you. In that instant, I cried hysterically. Ethan held me close, patting my back and whispering comforts. “Okay, okay, don’t cry anymore.” “I know I’ve been ignoring you lately, which made you so emotional.” “It’s all over now. Once I accompany Stella back to her hometown to finish her mother’s funeral, we’ll get married, okay?” My crying stopped instantly. So, his sudden care was only for this. And here I was, naively believing he actually cared about my feelings and realized his mistakes. This time, I didn’t throw a fit. “Okay.” Ethan let go of me, his eyes filled with pleasant surprise. “That’s my good girl!” Ethan wrapped his arms around me, kissing me eagerly. His hands slid down my thigh, his breath growing hot and heavy against my ear. He pinned me down, closing his eyes to kiss me. I turned my head away. “I’m not in the mood.” The passion instantly drained from him. He got off the bed, pulled up his pants, and turned to leave. “I’m going to take a shower. Go to sleep.” I stayed awake the entire night. Even through the wall, I could hear Stella’s giggles and whispers. It was agonizing. The next morning, the house was empty. I knew Ethan had taken Stella to her hometown for the funeral. After packing up my belongings, I left the house keys and my engagement ring on the coffee table. As the front door clicked shut, Ethan and I were officially over. At 1:00 PM, I arrived at the courthouse. A black Maybach pulled up smoothly in front of me. A man in a dark grey suit stepped out. “Let’s go. I only have ten minutes.” I nodded and turned to walk inside. “Watch out!” Julian Vance’s voice rang out, and I was suddenly pulled into a solid chest. A heavy flowerpot crashed and shattered right where I had been standing a second ago. I looked up at Julian, my heart skipping a beat. “You’re still the same as when you were a kid, never looking where you’re walking.” Julian let go of my waist, took my hand, and led me into the courthouse. Within ten minutes, we had our marriage certificate. Julian had an urgent meeting, so he had his driver take me to his villa. Staring at the marriage certificate, I felt completely dazed. “How is he? That’s the man I chose for you. He’ll never let you down.” My dad called to check in, his voice full of pride. Ever since I decided to leave Ethan, my dad had been looking for a suitable marriage alliance for me. Julian was a major business partner of his, making him the perfect choice. “Yeah. He’s a million times better than Ethan.” My eyes caught Stella’s latest post on Snapchat. [Thank you for being there for me, making the loss of my mother bearable. ] The picture was a scenic view of her hometown. I knew she was talking about Ethan, and seeing Ethan’s ‘like’ on the post stung my heart. Ethan had never liked a single one of my social media posts. On the day my mother died, he was busy with his classes and didn’t offer me much comfort. The promise he made to my dying mother was nothing more than a performance. With a bitter smile, I tapped ‘like’ on Stella’s post. In the elevator, Ethan pulled out his phone. When he saw my ‘like’, he froze. He turned to Stella. “Did you use my phone to like her post?” Stella’s face flushed as she stammered, unable to give a straight answer. Ethan stared at my ‘like’, a sudden panic washing over him. The next second, a red dot appeared on his feed, indicating a new post. It was my marriage announcement. [Turns out getting married isn’t that hard after all. ] The photo was of my marriage certificate. [Who did you marry?] A text message popped up. I glanced at it and immediately blocked him. [Stop playing games.] [Marriage is a serious matter. Do you think this is a joke?] TThe messages he tried to send back were met with red exclamation marks. Standing in front of the villa door, Ethan froze completely.

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I had just clocked out of work in the early hours of the morning when I received a hotel pin drop on Snapchat from my best friend, Serena. I thought she wanted to hang out or grab a late-night drink. But when I pushed the hotel room door open, I saw Serena and my fiancé, Ethan, wrapped in the sheets together. It felt like a lightning strike. I went completely numb. “Serena, you’re sleeping with my fiancé? And you invited me to watch?” Serena just smiled at me. “Chloe, I’m just giving him a test drive for you before the wedding.” My fiancé, Ethan, pulled on his pants while trying to soothe me. “Don’t you want to wait until the wedding night? Serena said I might have issues, so she wanted to inspect the goods for you first.” I gritted my teeth and forced a smile. “And? How was the inspection?” Serena pinched Ethan’s abs playfully. “Works great. Best friend approved. You can marry him with peace of mind!” There were only two weeks left until the wedding, and they ended up “inspecting” each other eighteen more times at that hotel. On the day of the wedding, Ethan, dressed in his tuxedo, was waiting to receive the bride. But he waited and waited, and I never showed up. Serena got anxious too and called me on Snapchat, demanding answers. “Chloe, you’re thirty minutes late! Did you forget today is your wedding? Where the hell are you?” “Your husband is waiting for you. He looks so pathetic, it breaks my heart.” She joked half-seriously, “If you don’t show up soon, I’m going to marry him instead.” “Go ahead.” I sneered, glancing at the handsome man standing across from me, exchanging rings. I spoke slowly: “I’m already married. Oh, by the way, you should call me Aunt Chloe now.”

The other side went dead silent for two seconds. Serena didn’t believe me. Her laughter came through the phone. “Chloe, are you still asleep? What kind of nonsense is that?” “I’m literally at your wedding venue right now. Your groom is right under my nose. Who could you possibly be marrying?” It sounded like she slapped someone. A loud smack echoed over the receiver. Ethan gasped in pain. “Serena! You dare smack my ass while you’re on the phone with my wife? You’re playing with fire.” “If my wife gets jealous and refuses to marry me, you’ll pay for this!” Serena’s voice was teasing and thick with flirting. “Pay for what? Tonight is your wedding night with Chloe. I won’t be waiting for you at the hotel tonight.” As soon as she said that, a burst of laughter erupted from their friends around her. “What wedding night? You three should just sleep together!” “Yeah! Serena is the maid of honor anyway, they practically share everything. I’m sure Chloe wouldn’t mind.” “Honestly, Ethan, you should just marry them both today…” Ethan laughed and kicked the speaker playfully. “Alright, that’s enough. My wife is listening.” He grabbed the phone from Serena, his voice turning sweet. “Chloe, don’t mind them. They’re just messing around.” “Why aren’t you here yet? Did you oversleep? Hurry up, the guests are going to arrive soon…” I replied calmly, “Are you brainless, or just deaf?” “I already told you. I am married. The groom isn’t you.” “Don’t call me again. My husband will get angry.” Before Ethan could reply, I heard the sound of his phone dropping, and I hung up. The world was finally quiet. I looked back at my own wedding. The roses, the decorations—everything was styled exactly to my taste. Across from me, Marcus looked at me with burning intensity. “Chloe, are you absolutely sure about this? You really want to marry me?” “Don’t do this just to get revenge. Once we exchange these rings, there’s no turning back.” I smiled and held his hand without a second thought. “If I regret it, I’m a fool.” The marriage officiant continued. Just as we were about to exchange rings, my phone rang again. I frowned and silenced it. But it rang again immediately. Marcus smiled and handed me the phone. “Answer it. We have time. I don’t want another man constantly blowing up my wife’s phone.”

I had no choice but to pick up. Ethan’s voice was anxious and annoyed. “Chloe, what kind of tantrum are you throwing?” “What was that lie about marrying someone else? I’m standing right here. Who could you marry?” “Look around. Everyone in our social circle knows you’re my fiancée!” “We’ve been engaged for years, and our families are waiting. Stop messing around and get over here right now.” I listened silently to his entitled rant. Yes. Everyone knew he was my fiancé. We had been together since college. It had been nearly ten years. But ten years of history meant nothing compared to his one-night stand with Serena. All because, after getting drunk a few times, he tried to strip my clothes off, kissing me flushed and breathless. “Chloe, give yourself to me…” I refused. Ever since then, whenever the topic came up, he became obsessive and passive-aggressive. Once, we had a massive fight over a trivial matter. Ethan lost his mind and screamed at me: “Chloe, ask yourself honestly, do you even love me?” “Other couples hold hands and kiss in the first week, and they’re in bed by the second! Look at you. It’s been ten years, and you won’t even let me touch you…” “What century are we living in? What is wrong with you?” “If you really love me, shouldn’t you naturally want to get close to me? Why do you act like touching me is repulsive?” Even though my eyes were red, I explained it to him over and over again. “I love you, but this is my boundary.” He knew exactly why. My mother’s dying wish was for me to save myself for my husband. She had been tricked by a sweet-talking player, got pregnant with me, and suffered her entire life. She didn’t want me to repeat her mistake. But during all of this, my “best friend” Serena had been playing the supportive sister. She would roll her eyes in anger right in front of me. “What an asshole! Throwing a fit just because he can’t get into your pants? Chloe, listen to me, do not tolerate his behavior!” I listened to her. I just didn’t expect that the moment I turned my back, they would end up in bed together. And they had the audacity to call it a “test drive.” I was pulled back to reality by the hysterical voice on the other end. “Ethan, save your breath. I don’t care anymore.” “Today is my wedding day, and I don’t want to waste my time talking to you. If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” Ethan quickly interrupted: “Chloe!” “What are you actually mad about? I’ll apologize however you want, just tell me. Today is our wedding. Do you want to humiliate me in front of everyone?” “And… is this about last night? I told you, I drank too much and fell asleep. I didn’t see your calls.” I couldn’t help but sneer. Fell asleep? Or were you busy sleeping with someone else? Ethan had no idea that I had installed a spyware app on his phone long ago. I heard him talking to his frat boys: “Tomorrow, I’m a married man. Tonight is my bachelor party, and I’m going to wild out.” Someone asked him: “Hey Ethan, are you still going to the hotel with Chloe’s bestie for some pre-marital action?” “Obviously,” Ethan replied, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Serena has a killer body and is totally wild. To be honest, if she weren’t Chloe’s friend, I wouldn’t even want to get married. I’d hate to lose access to a catch like her…” I sneered silently. Serena snatched the phone back and asked, “Chloe, jokes aside, this is your wedding. If you keep delaying, people aren’t going to wait forever.” She had no idea I had already eloped with her uncle. “You should call me Aunt Chloe now.” Serena obviously didn’t believe me. When we were on good terms, we always joked like this to tease each other. She thought “Aunt Chloe” was just me playing along. “Chloe, honestly, which young pretty boy did you run off with?” “Don’t play too hard. Your fiancé is actually pretty good. I’ve already tested him for you. If you don’t hurry up, another woman might snatch him.” “Though, honestly, I’m kind of sad he’s marrying you. I won’t get to touch those abs anymore…” “But hey, that just makes it more thrilling… Haha, you’re not mad, right? I’m just joking.” I ignored her and muted the phone. Suddenly, she sent me a barrage of videos on Snapchat—eight or nine in a row. I casually tapped one. It was Serena and Ethan drinking a toast together. Serena was wearing the wedding dress she had helped me pick out, linking arms with Ethan as they walked onto the stage. She even gave a speech as the “bride.” But she added mockingly: “Don’t get the wrong idea, everyone. I’m not the bride. I’m just her best friend!” “The bride is running late for some reason, and she’s having a little lover’s quarrel with the groom. So, I’m just stepping in to keep things running smoothly.”

Many guests in the crowd could already smell the toxicity. “The maid of honor is acting like such a snake.” “The bride is late, so the bridesmaid takes her place? Who does that?” “I study psychology. Look at their body language. There is definitely something going on between the groom and the best friend.” … The whispers were endless. Someone kept forwarding me the TikTok live streams of their wedding. But I didn’t care anymore. My wedding with Marcus proceeded smoothly. Marcus had always been a cold, detached bachelor. His parents had even begun to worry he might be secretly gay, nearly going grey with stress. My sudden appearance made the elderly couple so happy they couldn’t sleep a wink the night before. Marcus’s parents held my hands warmly, overflowing with affection. “Chloe, you are so beautiful. The moment I saw you, I knew you were meant to be my daughter-in-law. We are so lucky.” At the wedding, the two elders couldn’t stop smiling. They proudly introduced me to the guests: “Yes, this is my daughter-in-law. Beautiful, isn’t she?” “My son must have used up all his lifetime luck to marry such a wonderful wife…” I couldn’t help but look down and smile. Marcus and I had met a few times before, but not often. Because Serena and I were best friends, she had shown me photos of Marcus several times, bragging about her hot uncle. “Chloe, my uncle is five years older than me, and he is insanely hot. He easily beats any guy out there.” “If you ever get tired of your boyfriend, why don’t you try my uncle?” It was because of those words. After discovering that Serena and my fiancé had been “test-driving” each other repeatedly, I made a move on her billionaire bachelor uncle. Once the ceremony ended, Marcus and I went to City Hall to sign our marriage license. Our actual reception party was still a few days away. “Where do you want to go? I’ll take you anywhere,” Marcus said. I thought about it. “Disneyland.” It was a place I had wanted to go for the past two years. Every time I brought it up to Ethan, he would scowl and make excuses to push it off. He told me we would go after the wedding. He promised he would make me his beautiful Disney princess then. But when he said those words, he was always glued to his phone, playing video games with my best friend: “Oh, you silly girl, let me carry you in the next round.” Now I finally understood. There is no need to wait for someone who keeps making you wait. The world is huge, and there will always be someone happy to accompany you. Marcus took me to Disneyland. He treated me like a true princess, taking photos of me with endless patience and gentleness. Suddenly, a familiar giggling drifted over from nearby. “Ethan, won’t your wife be mad if she finds out you brought me here? And this ring… I’m the one who picked it out for her. Are you sure it’s okay for me to wear it?” “What’s there to worry about? You practically stood in for her at the wedding. In name, you’re basically my wife anyway.” Ethan had his arm wrapped casually around her shoulders, and they looked like they were about to kiss. Serena laughed happily, pushed him away, and pointed to a stand selling candied strawberries, demanding some. Ethan quickly bought them and handed them over. “Feed me.” Her voice was pure baby-talk. Ethan used to hate it when girls acted cute or whiny. Whenever I did it, he would scowl and call me high-maintenance. But now, he just smiled indulgently and leaned in to feed her. “No, feed me with your mouth.” And Ethan complied without hesitation. It wasn’t that he hated cute behavior. He just hated it when it came from me. Seeing me dazed, Marcus walked over. “Want some?” He had bought a skewer of candied strawberries at some point—my favorite flavor. I nodded. “Feed me.” Marcus glanced at the couple across from us, gave a knowing smile, took a bite of a strawberry, and leaned down to kiss me. In the end, the skewer fell to the ground. Marcus pinned me against a tree, kissing me with deep, intoxicating passion. But just as we were completely lost in the moment. An enraged voice roared nearby. “Stop it! Chloe, what the hell are you doing?!”

Ethan’s face went pale. He shoved Serena aside and rushed toward me. “Chloe! No wonder you ran away from our wedding and refused to marry me. You found yourself a side piece!” “Tell me, who the hell is this guy?” His face was so pale, he looked like the one who had been cheated on. “Get over here! Why are you so close to him?” Furious, he reached out to grab me. But I coldly stepped back. Unbothered, I linked my arm even tighter with Marcus’s right in front of him. “Since you’re so desperate to know, let me introduce you.” “This is my husband, Marcus.” “And as for you—” I paused and smiled. “Just an ex-boyfriend who got wrapped around our niece’s little finger.” Marcus, who had expected this, smiled warmly. “I’ve heard of you.” “But I must thank you for letting her go. Otherwise, it would have taken me a few more years to win Chloe over.” Ethan’s face twisted in embarrassment and rage. “What niece? What nonsense are you talking about?” “…Uncle Marcus?” Serena gasped from behind him, her face turning white as she stared at us. “Chloe, since when did you get together with my uncle?” She forced a laugh and tried to swat at my arm. “Stop joking. My uncle is a legendary bachelor. He doesn’t even look at women.” “Even if you are pretty, there’s no way you made my uncle melt. Chloe, playing pretend to make Ethan jealous is fine, but don’t take it too far.” Neither of them believed it. “Exactly, Chloe,” Ethan chimed in, looking like he was about to lose his mind. He glared at me, scowling. “What crap are you spewing? We haven’t even broken up. Since when am I your ex?” “And you still owe me an explanation for running away from our wedding!” “I don’t owe you anything.” After all, I was a married woman now. I felt zero possessiveness toward other men. I pulled Marcus to walk away, but Ethan grabbed my arm. “Chloe! What is wrong with you?” “First you ditch our wedding, and now you’re flirting with another man. What do you want?” He glared at Marcus with jealous, venomous eyes. “This pretty boy looks like a total player. You’re using him to put on a show, but aren’t you afraid of getting burned?” Even now, he thought I was just acting to get his attention. What an ego. My eyes fell mockingly on the red hickey on his neck. “It’s none of your business.” “I told you already, I’m married. Believe it or not.” Ethan tried to pull me closer. He sneered maliciously, “No wonder you wouldn’t let me touch you for ten years. You had someone else on the side.” “Since you love throwing yourself at other men so much, let me—” Before his hand could touch me. Marcus’s fist connected sharply with his jaw, sending him stumbling back.

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One month before the Pack’s annual Hunt Festival, an intern from the Healing Center sent me a photo. In the dimly lit treatment room, my fated mate, Alexander, who was also the Pack’s lead healer, was pinning a female warrior against the table. His hands were gripped tightly around her waist. They were staring into each other’s eyes, their bodies pressed flush together. I sent the photo straight to Alexander. Late that night, he came home smelling of therapeutic essential oils. He gave me a lazy, practiced explanation. “Evelyn, you know this is just part of my job.” “Her injury is in a sensitive spot near her lower back. I had to find the exact angle to apply pressure. The photo just makes it look worse than it is.” I pulled the blanket tighter around myself. “Okay. Go to sleep. You have to train with her tomorrow.” He looked surprised. “You’re not mad?” I shook my head. Since he couldn’t let go of his first love, it was time for me to go back to my Alpha. Seeing that I had nothing more to say, Alexander went to take a shower. The posture in that photo didn’t look like medical treatment at all. It looked like an embrace. The intern who sent it only added one line: [Evelyn, I’m not trying to start drama. But Alexander has been doing this with her every single day for the past six months.] Alexander walked out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out to ruffle my hair. “Evelyn, Olivia’s spine was severely damaged by silver weapons years ago. Normal healing spells don’t work. I have to get close to find the trigger points.” “I was only treating her.” I turned my head away, avoiding his touch, and stared at the ceiling. “Okay.” “She’s been training too hard for the Hunt Festival, and her back muscles are spasming. I don’t trust any other healer with her.” “Okay.” “You know my skills. The whole Pack trusts me.” I finally turned to look at him and forced a smile. “I know, Alexander. You’re a great healer.” He kept explaining. “She and I broke up a long time ago. We’re just friends now.” I didn’t reply. I knew exactly how heavy their past was. Olivia had never truly left his life. Whenever she got a cramp during training, had a flare-up of an old injury, or couldn’t sleep, she would text him to come over. On the night we completed our Mate Bond ceremony, she texted him at eleven p.m.: “My back is killing me. I can’t move! It hurts so bad!” Alexander had just taken off his coat. After reading the message, he didn’t hesitate to lace his boots back on. I pulled his sleeve. “Does it have to be tonight?” “She’s alone in her apartment. No one is there to look after her.” I sat on the edge of the bed and lowered my head. He bent down and tucked me in. “I’ll be quick. I’ll take you to register our bond at the Pack Hall first thing tomorrow morning.” He didn’t return until three in the morning. There was a smear of essential oil on his collar. He said it got there “while stretching her out.” I knew she was fine. With a werewolf warrior’s healing ability, even the worst silver injury would have healed after several years. But he wanted to go, and no one could stop him. Every time I brought up Olivia, he would say, “She’s a warrior of our Pack, and I’m a healer. It’s my duty.” The more fragile she acted, the more patient he became. The more demanding she was, the harder it was for him to say no. Everyone in the Pack whispered that they were still hooking up. I, his fated mate, felt like an outsider in my own marriage. Alexander wanted to say more, but his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced at it, his expression shifting slightly, and quickly pressed the lock button. “It’s probably just her. She gets anxious before the Hunt.” I closed my eyes. “Answer it. What if she can’t sleep tonight and it ruins her training tomorrow?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he placed the phone face down, turned around, and wrapped his arms around me. “Don’t overthink it, Evelyn. She and I are in the past.” I didn’t hug him back. Suddenly, a sharp cramp flared in my lower abdomen, like a tight knot twisting inside me. I frowned but kept quiet. Even if I told him, he wouldn’t care right now.

The next morning at six-thirty, Olivia’s call came right on time. “Alexander, I can’t train today. I seriously can’t even lift my back.” Alexander’s voice held a trace of helpless indulgence. “Olivia, you’re not a pup anymore. It’s just a mild cramp.” Olivia whimpered on the other end. “Would it kill you to be nice to me?” He went silent for two seconds, his tone softening. “Fine. I’ll head over after my morning rounds at the clinic. I’ll bring a special ointment.” Olivia immediately pushed further. “After that, you have to buy me breakfast and help me stretch.” Alexander let out a low chuckle. “Why don’t you just ask me to move in and be your personal healer?” “I would! But do you dare? Would your precious mate even allow it?” The bathroom door was slightly open. I heard every single word. He hung up, turned around, and froze when he saw me standing there. “She’s just stressed before the Hunt,” he said quickly. My face remained blank. “You’re very attentive.” “Maybe you should request a transfer to be the dedicated medic for her squad.” He frowned. “Evelyn.” A sudden, violent wave of pain surged from deep within my belly. I gripped the doorframe, my voice hoarse. “Move.” I pushed past him into the bathroom, collapsing by the toilet, dry-heaving. Nothing came up, but cold sweat broke out across my forehead. Alexander stood at the doorway. He didn’t come closer. He just watched me with a frown. “What’s wrong now?” I gasped for air. “My stomach… it hurts.” He looked at my pale face, his voice flat. “Your emotions have been all over the place lately. Of course your body is reacting. Just stop overthinking, and you’ll feel better.” I froze, my fingers gripping the edge of the sink tightly. He didn’t seem to notice. He grabbed a tissue to wipe the doorknob. “You never say anything when you’re actually sick. You only act pitiful when you want attention. It’s exhausting, Evelyn.” He checked his watch. “I have to treat Olivia this morning, and there’s a joint seminar this afternoon. I can’t stay.” “There are painkillers in the cabinet. Take two and rest.” Before leaving, he added, “Turn on the exhaust fan when you’re done. Don’t leave a smell for others.” The moment the door slammed shut, another spasm hit me. I couldn’t even stand up. A metallic taste rose in my throat. I leaned against the wall for a long time, feeling a deep sense of irony. He had all the patience in the world to find the perfect angle for Olivia’s spine, but he found my pain “exhausting” and “pitiful.” It turned out his medical compassion was highly selective. He grabbed his bag and left without looking back. I wiped my face, ordered a cab, and drove myself to the Healing Center.

The healer looked at my ultrasound results and fell into a long silence. “Evelyn,” she began carefully, “your physical state is terrible. I’m not just talking about the medical reports. I mean *you*. You look… completely crushed.” I didn’t say anything. She hesitated. “Where is your mate? Does he know you’re here?” I opened my mouth, but no words came. Aside from Alexander, I had no one else to call. My parents died when I was young. I had lived alone for so many years before I finally thought I had found a home with him. But now, as the healer asked about him, my fingers went cold against the paper. I suddenly realized that my pain wasn’t just a physical illness. It was the sickness of a failing Mate Bond. It was the physical manifestation of his betrayal. As I walked out of the Healing Center, I tried to mindlink Alexander, but I couldn’t feel his presence. He had blocked our link. Standing on the steps, I called him. No answer. I sent him a text: [I have an emergency. Come home now.] I took a cab back. When I opened the front door, I saw a pair of unfamiliar women’s leather boots on the rug. In the living room, Olivia was lounging on our couch. One of her legs was propped up on the coffee table, her ankle wrapped in a bandage. Alexander was kneeling in front of her, gently massaging her foot with expert precision. “Did you twist it?” he asked. “Yeah, just a clumsy mistake.” Olivia pouted, her voice sweet and helpless. “Alexander, am I going to be benched for two weeks?” “Your ligaments are a bit tight. Don’t walk on it too much.” He squeezed her ankle gently. “Does it hurt?” “Only a little,” she whispered, her eyes locked onto his. “But it doesn’t hurt when you’re here.” “I’m here,” he murmured. Those two words. In all the years we had been together, he had almost never said them to me. A minor sprain was nothing to a werewolf warrior. They healed in hours. He knew it wasn’t serious. He just wanted to be there for her. My abdomen flared with pain again. I gripped the entryway cabinet, my knuckles turning white. Alexander finally noticed me. “Where did you go? Why do you look so pale?” I opened my mouth to say, *I just came from the clinic,* but Olivia cut me off with a sigh. “Evelyn, please don’t misunderstand! My ankle was so swollen I couldn’t walk. Alexander was worried about me being alone, so he brought me here to treat it.” I ignored her and kept my eyes on Alexander. “I need to talk to you.” Before he could answer, Olivia gasped. “Alexander, my toes are going numb.” He immediately looked down, re-examining her foot. His voice softened even more. “Don’t move. The ligament just loosened. Give it a minute.” I stood there, clutching my bag. “Alexander, can you please take me to the Healing Center?” Olivia grabbed his wrist at that exact moment. “Did I break a bone? Why is it hurting more?” Alexander frowned, checking her foot without looking up. “Evelyn, if you’re not feeling well, go lie down. I’ll come check on you as soon as I’m done here.” “Never mind.” I turned, walked into the bedroom, and shoved my medical report into the very bottom drawer of the nightstand. That night, Alexander knocked on the door. “The guest bedroom is too damp. I’m going to let Olivia sleep in our bed tonight. You can crash in the guest room for one night.” I opened the door. Olivia had already walked into our master bedroom holding a glass of warm water. She sat right on the edge of my bed and naturally reached into the nightstand to look for pain patches. The bottom drawer held my medical report. I blocked her hand. “Don’t touch that. I’ll get it for you.” But Olivia’s fingers had already brushed against something else in the top drawer. A box of birth control pills. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You guys have been together for five years and you’re still using these? I was starting to wonder if he even marked you.” She threw a meaningful look at Alexander. “Didn’t you use to hate birth control? You told me you never wanted a pup with anyone else.” The room went dead silent. I looked at Alexander. He looked away, avoiding my eyes. For five years, he had never brought up having children. I thought he was just being considerate of my career. It turned out he had made the decision for me long ago. My abdomen seized in a violent cramp. I gripped the edge of the drawer, cold sweat dripping down my face. I pulled the medical report out, held it tightly, and walked toward the front door. “Evelyn, where are you going?” he called out from behind me. I didn’t look back. Where else would I go? I was going to deal with a pup that he never planned to have—and now, a pup he would never have the right to know.

By the time I reached the Healing Center, I could barely stand. The emergency healer took one look at me and her face paled. She didn’t even look at the paperwork; she just grabbed my shoulders and helped me into a chair. “Why are you here alone?” her voice was frantic. “Where is your mate? Where is he?” I shook my head. Her expression darkened. She turned to the nurse. “Prep the OR. Now.” I gripped the back of the chair, my clothes soaked in cold sweat. “We need to contact your mate,” the healer said. “In your condition, having your mate’s scent and aura to soothe you would make a huge difference.” I stared at the floor for a long time before finally dialing Alexander’s number. It rang for what felt like forever before he picked up. In the background, I could hear Olivia’s whiny voice. “Alexander, my foot still hurts. Come back and look at it…” Alexander’s tone over the phone was instantly gentle. “Don’t move, I’m coming.” Then he spoke to me, his voice instantly turning cold. “Evelyn, what is it?” “Alexander, come to the Healing Center.” “If you’re really sick, let the healers handle it. What good am I going to do there?” “The healer said… I need my mate’s scent to stabilize me.” My voice was so weak I could barely hear myself. “I have no other family. I only have you.” There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by a heavy, irritated sigh. “Evelyn, stop doing this. I know you’re an orphan and you’ve always been insecure. I get it. But you can’t keep weaponizing your trauma to manipulate my feelings.” Those words pierced through my ears like poisoned needles. The pain was so intense my vision went black. The call disconnected. I stared at the dark screen, my knees buckling. He knew exactly how alone I was in this world, and yet he used my loneliness as a weapon to push me away. I braced myself against the wall, opened my contacts, and scrolled to a number I hadn’t dialed in years. It rang once before he picked up. “Evelyn?” My voice shook violently. “Nathaniel… can you come to the Healing Center?” There was a sudden scrape of a chair on the other end. “Send me the address. I’m on my way.” That night, Alexander took Olivia to a Pack bonfire party. After a few drinks, someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. The beer bottle spun and pointed directly at Alexander. “Alexander, honestly, if Olivia hadn’t gone abroad years ago, wouldn’t you two be married by now?” The crowded room went quiet for a second, followed by a burst of knowing laughter. Olivia leaned closer to him, looking down with a shy smile. “Stop it, guys. Alexander has been married to Evelyn for three years.” But as she spoke, her hand slid over his on the table. Alexander didn’t pull away. Someone cheered. “You’re holding hands and you’re telling us to stop? Come on, Alexander, answer the question!” He raised his glass. “Next question.” The laughter grew louder. Olivia took his phone to take a selfie. When she tapped the screen, she paused at the passcode screen. It was still her birthday. “You never changed the password,” she whispered, her eyes curving into crescents. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “My back hurts too much to lean down, block the light for me.” Alexander frowned slightly but still tilted his body to shield her from the camera glare. Someone yelled about posting the pictures on Snapchat. He replied casually, “Go ahead. My mate doesn’t check social media anyway.” Then, he added, “She’s been acting crazy lately. Always complaining about not feeling well.” The laughter slowly died down. A Pack member sitting in the corner suddenly looked up. “Are you saying Evelyn is faking it?” “What else would she be doing?” The man’s expression changed. “But… I was at the Healing Center yesterday. I saw her. A man had to carry her into the emergency room.” “She lost her pup. And the man holding her… was Alpha Nathaniel.”

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Late at night, a new post suddenly popped up on the Silvermoon Pack’s private forum. [I heard Sarah is back.] In less than a minute, the thread was flooded with dozens of replies. “Oh my god, she and Alpha Ethan… what happened back then was such a tragedy.” “If she hadn’t left to join the Ironclaw Pack, our pack would probably have an heir by now.” “Even after all these years, I still think they are the ultimate power couple.” Right then, Sarah, who had been inactive for years, finally replied. She only wrote one sentence. “Some people, once you miss them, you regret it for a lifetime.” The forum immediately exploded with ship emojis. Nobody seemed to care—or remember—that they already had a Luna. I slowly lowered my phone and looked at the man sleeping beside me. Alpha Ethan. The very man they were all mourning as “the regret of a lifetime” was currently fast asleep right next to me. The forum notifications kept lighting up my screen. [Sarah, are you staying for good this time?] Sarah replied almost instantly: [Yes. I’m not leaving again.] That single sentence set the entire forum on fire. “I still can’t believe Ethan ended up marrying a human…” “Ugh, don’t even get me started. That human Luna doesn’t even show up to pack gatherings. She’s barely a Luna.” “Now that Sarah is back, things will finally go back to how they should be. She’s the only one fit to stand beside Ethan.” “Oh my god, does this mean Sarah and Ethan might actually get back together?” Sarah didn’t confirm, but she didn’t deny it either. A few seconds later, she just posted a smiling emoji. [If it’s meant to be, we will find our way back to each other.] The comment section was instantly filled with flower and applause emojis. I quietly exited the forum and locked my phone. Beside me, Ethan was sleeping deeply. Seven years of marriage, and he had always been like this. Cold, controlled, and polite. He remembered every anniversary. He transferred money to my account on time. He even accompanied me to visit the orphanage. But he never loved me. I used to wonder why an Alpha like him would want to marry a human like me. I never got an answer, and I never dared to ask. Just as I was about to turn off the bedside lamp, his phone lit up. A new message popped up on his lock screen. [I’m back.] There was no contact name saved. But I recognized the sender immediately. It was Sarah. I turned my head to look at Ethan. His breathing was steady; he hadn’t woken up. His long fingers, however, were resting gently on my stomach, just like they did every night. The wedding band on his ring finger pressed cold against the back of my hand. The chill seeped straight into my chest, making it hard to breathe. My fingertips hovered over his phone. With just a simple passcode, I could know everything they were talking about. But a second later, I pulled my hand back. Ethan never hid his phone from me. Not because he loved me, but because he knew I would never pry. And because I knew that even if I found something, it wouldn’t change a single thing. I had heard stories about how he used to treat Sarah. Once, a young female werewolf in the pack had tried to flirt with him. Sarah had ignored him for an entire day. After training that evening, he had chased her across half the pack’s territory. He forced his phone into her hands, wearing a helpless, desperate smile. “Are you jealous?” “I already blocked her.” “If you don’t believe me, check my texts. Delete whoever you want.” Back then, Ethan only had eyes for one person. But now, he had locked all that passion away. When the sky was just turning gray, before the alarm could go off, Ethan woke up. Almost instinctively, he reached for his phone.

Usually, he would get up early for an hour of training. But not today. He just leaned against the headboard, staring down at his phone. The screen lit up, dimmed, and lit up again. It wasn’t until almost eight o’clock that he finally set the phone down and got up to change. I acted natural as I spoke up. “Are you going to the annual pack gala this year?” His hands paused on his cufflinks. “Yes.” We never had much to talk about. Despite sharing the same bed, I had to find out about his life from an online forum. Ethan hesitated for a moment. “Are you coming?” I shook my head. The pack gatherings had never been something I looked forward to. I was the Luna, yet I was always treated like an outsider. I knew what they called me behind my back. “The useless human.” They didn’t accept me. To werewolves, humans were fragile and troublesome. If I weren’t the Alpha’s mate, they wouldn’t even look at me. He didn’t press the issue. He just gave a faint nod. “Okay.” He probably didn’t want me there either. The moment the door closed, I picked up my phone. The Silvermoon Pack forum had already accumulated over two hundred new messages, all about Ethan and Sarah. The rebellious Alpha heir and his beautiful, elegant ex-girlfriend. The two of them together was always the ultimate gossip. Sarah finally posted: “Just woke up. See you all at the gala next week!” Dozens of users replied instantly. “Can’t wait to see you!” “Wait, does that mean you saw everything we chatted about last night? I thought you blocked the forum notifications.” “Team Sarah and Ethan forever!” Sarah replied with a cute waving cat emoji. “It’s fine. I actually found it… quite interesting.” That sentence was hard to read. But nobody pushed further. Instead, they shifted the topic back to the gala. [By the way, is Alpha Ethan actually coming?] [The Alpha has been so busy with pack business lately. He probably won’t have time for a party.] [Man, the guy who used to skip training just to climb over a wall for Sarah is now the mature, serious Alpha of Silvermoon.] The forum went quiet for a few seconds. Then, Sarah posted a single line. [He will be there.] Someone immediately asked. [How do you know?] It took her a few seconds to reply. [He promised me.]

“Luna Emily.” Ethan stood at the bedroom door, fastening his cuffs. “Don’t you have an appointment at nine?” I snapped my head toward the clock. 8:40 AM. I had barely slept last night, and I had actually forgotten to set my alarm. I threw my phone aside and scrambled out of bed. I had promised Grandma Eleanor I’d visit her at nine to help with her rose garden. I was a punctual person. I hated being late. Except for that one time, before I met Ethan. It had been pouring that day. I was standing at the bus stop, completely drenched. A sleek black car had pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing a handsome, youthful face. It was Ethan, though I didn’t know his identity back then. “Get in. The rain is too heavy,” he had said, his voice flat, not even looking at me. I hesitated, but eventually climbed in. The heater in the car was on, and it was incredibly warm. He didn’t talk to me. He just drove in silence. I gave him an address, and he simply nodded. I thought he was just a kind stranger giving me a lift. But when he dropped me off and I got out to thank him, I followed his gaze. Across the street, inside a cozy cafe, Sarah was sitting by the window, waving at him. He wasn’t trying to help me. He was just on his way to pick her up, and he had simply pitied the drowned rat on the curb. In the living room, I turned around. Ethan was sitting at the dining table, sipping his coffee. Suddenly, a reckless thought crossed my mind. “Ethan, I’m going to be late. Are you busy?” In our seven years of marriage, this was the first time I had ever asked him for a favor. If he just said, “I’ll drive you.” I think I would have been happy for a very long time. But he merely glanced at his watch. “I’ll have the driver take you.” I froze for a second. “Okay. Thanks.” “Thank you” and “Thanks” were the most common words in our marriage. Thank you for the gift. Thanks for grabbing my coat. We were as polite as roommates who had shared an apartment for years, not like mates, and certainly not like husband and wife. Thanks to the driver, I wasn’t late. Grandma Eleanor was already in the garden, wearing a sunhat and trimming the roses. We had met in a community garden years ago. The old lady loved flowers, but her family was always too busy to keep her company. I frequented that garden too. She always said that even the most beautiful flowers needed patient care. Gradually, we became close friends despite the age gap. Back then, I had no idea she was Ethan’s grandmother, let alone the former Elder Luna of the Silvermoon Pack. During our chats, she would only complain about her rebellious, stubborn grandson. Until the day Ethan came to pick her up. “Luna Emily,” Eleanor waved her shears in front of my face. “What’s wrong? You seem totally out of it today.” I had just accidentally snipped off a perfectly healthy bud. I snapped out of it and shook my head with a weak smile. She saw right through me. “Did you and Ethan have a fight?” I shook my head. We didn’t fight. We didn’t even have disagreements. “That boy is so emotionally stunted. I’ll give him a piece of my mind later.” Hearing the word “stunted” associated with Ethan was almost funny. Before he married me, he was the dream of every werewolf in the territory. He was rich, gorgeous, and a hopeless romantic. I had heard that he once filled the entire pack hall with white roses for the Winter Solstice festival, just because Sarah mentioned she liked white. On New Year’s Eve, he had skipped the pack summit just to set off fireworks outside her window because she was feeling down. Though I received white roses and watched fireworks later in our marriage, I knew they were just leftovers of the love he had once designed for Sarah. My mind was a mess. I had married him, but I had never seen the passionate side of Ethan. As the wind blew through the garden, a sudden realization hit me. It explained my strange behavior since last night. I was terrified. Eleanor set her shears down and looked at me. “Luna Emily, you have been married into this pack for seven years. Do you know what the pack members say about you? They say the Luna is just a pretty ornament. I’m not blaming you, sweetie. But you are the Luna. You have power, and you have responsibilities. You can learn to host the galas, look after the pups, or take your seat in the council room. You don’t need to be a werewolf to prove your worth. You just need to show them you are willing to try.”

I had always been good at waiting. When I was a kid, I waited for someone to adopt me. Later, I waited for the last bus after my part-time shifts. And then, I waited for a husband who never wanted to come home. By habit, I found myself waiting again. Waiting for Ethan and his first love to rekindle their flame. And then, waiting to be rejected. My previous waits were numbing and dull. But this time, I was scared. Sometimes, you just have to be brave once. So, for the first time, I went to Ethan’s office at the Packhouse. On the way there, I practiced my questions a thousand times. “Do you still love Sarah?” “When are you going to reject me?” But I was stopped right at the entrance. The guard gave me a polite but firm smile. “I’m sorry, ma’am. All visitors need to make an appointment a week in advance.” The guard clearly didn’t recognize me. It made sense; most of the guards were on duty elsewhere on our wedding day, and I rarely showed my face at the Packhouse. I wasn’t sure if Ethan wanted the guards to know I was his Luna. I had never visited him here before, so I didn’t push or state my identity. I dialed Ethan’s number. Just as the phone started ringing, I heard his familiar ringtone echoing from the end of the corridor. Ethan was walking at the front of a group. He glanced at his phone, his brow furrowing as if debating whether to answer. I quickly hung up. He didn’t seem to care. He slowed his pace, occasionally turning back to speak to someone behind him. As they walked past, just a few yards away, I finally saw the woman walking beside him. It was Sarah. Time had left no marks on her face. She looked just as pure and beautiful as she did in the photos on Ethan’s old social media posts from eight years ago. She quickened her steps to walk side-by-side with him. Her voice was bright and cheerful. “Oh? You haven’t changed your ringtone after all these years? It’s still my favorite song.” I had heard that back in his rebellious days, Ethan only listened to heavy rock. But Sarah liked soft, classical melodies. Ethan’s taste in music had changed entirely for her. I guess that was the mark love had left on him. Even now, the habit remained. Only after they walked away did the guard speak to me again. “Ma’am, as you can see, the Alpha is busy. If you need something, you can schedule an appointment with the secretary.” I forced a smile. “Thanks. No need.” I felt so exhausted. My eyes stung. I told myself that all I needed was to go home and sleep. But the forum notifications on my phone kept buzzing. “Guess who I just ran into at the Packhouse banquet hall? Ethan and Sarah!” “Oh my god, are they finally back together? The ship is finally sailing!” “@Sarah, spill the tea!” Sarah posted a picture in response. It showed a beautiful window view, a fancy dinner, and a man’s hand resting on the table. His face wasn’t in the frame, but I would recognize those strong, veiny forearms anywhere. She captioned it: “The food here is amazing. Highly recommend.” She didn’t give a direct answer, but the implication was crystal clear. I zoomed in on the photo. Ethan had beautiful hands with distinct knuckles. I had held that hand countless times. I was the one who had slipped the wedding band onto his finger. My eyes locked onto his left hand. His ring finger was bare. He had taken off his wedding ring.

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The giant projector screen blares my falsified medical lab results dead-center during my wedding reception, and the entire ballroom erupts in screaming chaos before I can even process what’s happening. Ezra Carter hurls my engagement ring hard at my chest. It bounces off my white lace wedding gown and clatters across the marble floor. “You’re a used trash girl who aborted a kid years ago, and you thought you’d lock down a Carter marriage?” He snarls loud enough for every guest to hear. “Your Hale family’s corporate merger funding deal is dead. You all watch your company tank tomorrow.” My birth parents’ faces bleach pure white. Chloe Hale, their beloved adopted daughter, steps forward with glistening fake tears streaking her cheeks. “Sage, how could you lie to Mom, Dad, and Ezra?” Her voice cracks, perfectly staged pity dripping off every syllable. “You ran wild alone for years after Mom and Dad found you again—how could you drag the whole Hale name down with your reckless choices?” “I didn’t do any of this. That lab report’s fabricated.” My voice stays flat, calm, no tremor. Ezra sneers right in my face. “A filthy girl like you doesn’t deserve a Carter last name. I call this engagement off for good. Either you get the hell out of this venue and let Chloe take your spot as my fiancée, or the Hale Group files Chapter 7 bankruptcy by sunrise. Choose.” Chloe latches onto Ezra’s suit sleeve, then twists back toward my parents with that mournful act cranked higher. “Mom, Dad, don’t let Sage ruin everything. I’ll marry Ezra instead of her. I’ll fix the funding deal, I’ll save our company—just send Sage somewhere to lay low until Ezra cools off.” Whispers roar through the crowd nonstop. I catch every cutting comment clear as day. “She only reunited with the Hales three years back, spent all her youth running loose—who knows what messes she got tangled in.” “The Hales tried to pawn a damaged girl off for corporate cash. Disgusting.” Ezra slams a fist on the head table. “Make your choice fast. I won’t wait all night.” Chloe’s eyes flash quiet victory beneath her teary mask as she begs my parents to cast me aside. Their gazes turn ice-cold when they land on me. “Sage, you’ve disappointed us beyond repair. The Hale household doesn’t claim you anymore.” I cling to one last shred of hope, glancing between them. “Just send me for a second independent lab test to prove this is fake—” “Quit embarrassing us further! Get out!” Dad shouts over the crowd noise. Three years ago, they tracked me down, pulled me away from the quiet life I built with Jesse, swore they’d make up for all the lost years and love me properly. But every single time Chloe set me up with lies, broke her own things and framed me, or staged falls to fake injury, they picked her side without a single question. This night’s no different. I yank the silk veil off my head and drop it at their feet. “Fine. From this second on, I cut all ties with the Hale family permanently.” Late autumn rain slams down out of nowhere, frigid wind biting through my thin wedding dress. I stand alone at a bus stop, clutching a crumpled photo of Jesse pressed tight to my chest. “Old man, you begged me to give this family a real shot after you passed. I tried. They don’t love me at all.” Jesse was a retired Marine combat vet who raised me for two decades, drilled hand-to-hand combat into my bones. I fought off street thugs, violent deadbeat contractors withholding pay, even worked high-risk private security bodyguard shifts to cover his cancer medical bills. For three years back with the Hales, I followed Jesse’s dying wish, toned down every sharp edge, acted docile and soft-mannered to fit their wealthy socialite mold. I never called Chloe out on any of her manipulative schemes, all to honor his last request. Now I’m outcast with nothing, no roof, no family, no safety net. “Guess I don’t have to fake being a tame debutante anymore, memorize useless fancy etiquette rules for rich snobs.” I fold Jesse’s photo back into my jacket pocket and glance up at a taped flyer plastered to the bus stop billboard. [URGENT Nanny / Step-Mother Wanted for 6-Year-Old Boy. Live-in, $50k Monthly Salary. Must handle extreme stress, unshakable mental fortitude. Warning: Minor physical injury possible on the job.] I rip the paper free, a sharp, amused smirk tugging my lips. “Perfect match. This job’s tailor-made for my skill set.”

I drive straight to the gated waterfront Rossi estate address printed on the flyer that same afternoon. A stoic head butler waits at the front marble doorway, scanning my wedding-stained dress with a skeptical frown. “You’re the applicant for the boy’s caretaker position?” I nod once, no extra pleasantries. “Step inside. Forewarning—Master Jude’s temperament is volatile. He has to take a genuine liking to you to stay employed.” He steps aside to let me cross the foyer. “Dozens of women have applied before you, none lasted more than three full days. Mr. Rossi’s orders: only staff who survive three days get a formal audience with him and a long-term employment contract.” Confidence settles steady in my bones. The hardships I endured growing up with Jesse, every brutal fight, every penny scraped together for medical bills, all beat dealing with a moody six-year-old boy by a mile. I round the grand staircase and spot him instantly. Jude’s dressed in a tiny tailored black three-piece suit, sharp delicate features, but a cold, lonely edge no kid his age should carry. “Hello, Miss. I brought you a gift.” He holds out a wrapped velvet box, wide innocent eyes masking whatever trick he’s cooked up. The butler staggers backward a full step, panic flooding his face. “Thank you so much, baby.” I take the box and flip the lid open without hesitation. A massive hairy tarantula leaps straight for my face the second the box opens. The butler yelps and collapses onto the marble floor, hands flying to cover his eyes. I pinch the tarantula gently between two fingers, turning it over to examine its abdomen with genuine curiosity. “Wow, great size on this girl. You’ve been feeding her really well. This gift’s my favorite welcome present ever—thank you, Jude.” Jude’s cocky smug expression crumples into pure shock. He blinks hard, voice tight with disbelief. “You’re not scared at all?” I grew up off-grid in a remote cabin with Jesse. Snakes, lizards, spiders, wild amphibians—none of them rattle me in the slightest. “This is your first gift to me, of course I love it. No way I’d be frightened.” I place the tarantula back inside its velvet box, then reach out to curl my hand around his tiny palm. “C’mon. We can grab a glass terrarium to house her together. I can walk you through her molting cycle—they’re super fragile during that phase, I’ll teach you all the care tricks.” His cheeks flush bright red, and he yanks his hand free instantly. “I don’t need help taking care of my pets!” He storms a few steps up the staircase, then twists back to glance over his shoulder at me. “The terrarium room’s on the second floor. Follow me if you want.” He leads me to a closed bedroom door, shoving it open to reveal walls lined floor-to-ceiling with sealed glass enclosures. Geckos, horned frogs, monitor lizards, every cold-blooded creature labeled with handwritten feeding schedules taped to each tank. “Your collection?” I ask quietly. He nods. “Butler helps with feeding sometimes. They never yell or lie to me. They keep me company all day.” A sharp twinge of sympathy twists my chest. I set the tarantula tank down on an empty shelf, then drop to my knees and wrap my arms lightly around his small frame. “Jude, my name’s Sage. Starting today, I’ll stay right here with you.” His whole body stiffens, then he wriggles free of my hug and bolts toward the door. “I don’t need anyone hanging around me! I’m a tough guy, I handle everything alone.” I stay kneeled on the carpet, watching the tips of his ears burn bright red, and smile softly. That night, a brutal thunderstorm rips through the neighborhood, lightning splitting the sky every few seconds. I get up to lock the floor-to-ceiling windows and hear glass shattering from Jude’s bedroom next door. I burst through his door without knocking. A broken desk lamp lies shattered on the rug, and Jude curls tight against the bed frame, clutching a throw pillow to his chest, skin pale as chalk from terror. When he sees me, he snatches a ceramic vase off his nightstand and hurls it straight at my head. “Get out of my room! Who said you could barge in?” This kid puts on such a tough front, but thunderstorms terrify him to his core. I catch the flying vase mid-air with one hand, then cross the room in two strides and slip under his duvet, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I’m terrified of thunderstorms too. Can I crash here with you just tonight? Please?”

Jude’s small frame goes rigid under the covers, but a faint flicker of quiet relief softens his sharp little glare. “Fine. Only tonight, since storms freak you out. Don’t get used to sharing my bed.” Classic stubborn little tsundere kid. “Thank you, Jude. The thunder’s making it impossible to sleep—can you read me a bedtime story to calm me down?” I grab a fairy tale hardcover off his nightstand and press it into his hands. He rolls his eyes dramatically. “You’re way too old for storybooks, that’s embarrassing.” Even so, he accepts the book, flips to the first page, and clears his throat to read aloud. Within ten minutes his voice grows softer and slower, the book slipping loose from his fingers as he drifts asleep mid-paragraph. I tuck the duvet snug around his shoulders and pull him close to my chest, letting both of us pass out through the rest of the storm. Early the next morning, the butler knocks the bedroom door open with a breakfast tray balanced in his hands. He freezes, tray nearly slipping from his grip, eyes blown wide. “Master Jude never lets any stranger cross his bedroom threshold, let alone sleep beside him—this is unheard of.” Jude blinks awake slowly, rubbing sleep crust out of his eyes, rushing to defend our shared bed. “She’s the one scared of thunder last night. I let her crash here, that’s all.” The butler stares at me like I’m some kind of miracle, rushing off to deliver a full report to Kai Rossi immediately. I stretch my arms out, reaching to help Jude pull on his tiny suit jacket. He twists away fast, cheeks flaming. “I dress myself! Don’t think this little stunt makes you special. All the other women who applied only care about my dad’s fortune anyway.” I hold back a quiet laugh. I absolutely took this job for the massive paycheck—nothing more, nothing less. We head down to the formal dining room for breakfast, and that’s when I lay eyes on the infamous Kai Rossi for the first time. Now I fully understand Jude’s comment about gold-digging applicants. Sharp sculpted jaw, icy dark eyes, tailored black designer suit, the cold, untouchable head of the entire East Coast Rossi crime syndicate with a legitimate multi-billion dollar finance empire front. Every single socialite in Manhattan would kill to lock him down. Kai sets his morning newspaper flat on the tabletop, those piercing dark eyes locking directly onto my face without breaking contact. “You’re the new caretaker. Name?” “Sage Voss.” His fingers pause mid-tug on his suit jacket’s button, leaning back slow against his leather dining chair. “Butler says Jude’s taken a strong liking to you. If my son accepts you fully, we sign a civil marriage license per the employment contract—your monthly salary doubles after that. One rule to drill into your head: look after Jude properly, and cut out any greedy ulterior motives targeting me.” “Understood, Mr. Rossi.” Jude marches out of the kitchen carrying a covered ceramic plate, sliding it onto the table directly in front of me with a deceptively sweet smile. “I made you breakfast all by myself. Hope you love it.” The butler’s eyes bug out, rapidly shooting panicked side glances in my direction. I lift the plate’s lid off. Two slices of sourdough sandwich bread sandwich a thick clump of dark green caterpillar paste, with a plump live caterpillar wriggling dead center on top. “Homemade protein sandwich. You aren’t gonna turn it down, right?” Jude challenges, eyes sharp with expectation. I pick up the whole sandwich and take a huge bite, chewing thoroughly before swallowing without a single flinch. “Tastes solid. Only complaint’s the caterpillar’s a little small. Back when I lived off-grid, I pan-fried way bigger caterpillars for dinner all the time.” Jude’s cocky scheming face drops completely, stunned silent. Off to my side, Kai’s mouth twitches upward in a faint, barely noticeable smile. “Looks like your little prank didn’t land this time.” He lifts his espresso mug, voice low and calm. Jude’s face burns scarlet, jumping down off his dining chair and sprinting out the back door in frustration. I grab his canvas backpack and chase after him. “Wait up—I’ll drive you to private school!” Kai’s gaze tracks my retreating figure across the lawn, his cold expression melting into tangled, aching longing. He murmurs quiet enough only he hears the words. “Sage… you really don’t remember a single thing about us.”

I walk two hundred yards from Jude’s private school gate when my cell rings, the school administrator’s harsh tone crackling through the speaker. “Are you Jude Rossi’s guardian? He assaulted another student. Come to the principal’s office immediately.” I hang up, a faint weight settling in my chest. I got into constant fights as a kid too, and every time Jesse got called in, he’d bow his head and beg forgiveness for my outbursts. This sharp little boy shares my hot temper. Worst case, I’ll write a settlement check—his dad owns half the city’s banks, cash’s never an issue. I step into the office and spot Jude standing stiff next to a chubby boy with only a tiny scrape across his cheekbone. I blink once, unimpressed. “That’s all the damage?” The principal glares hard at me, offended by my lack of panic. “Jude attacked this child and refuses to apologize. You need to discipline him severely.” I tilt my head, unyielding. “A tiny surface scrape from two kids roughhousing isn’t worth a formal parent conference. Boys fight all the time over trivial stuff.” Jude’s rigid shoulders relax, his wide eyes locked on me in pure shock. The chubby kid’s mother surges forward, finger jabbing straight at my face, voice shrill with rage. “What kind of woman raises such a violent, ill-mannered brat? No wonder he’s got no mother figure around to teach him respect!” Cold rage floods my veins. One sharp kick sends the plastic visitor chair beside me splintering into broken shards on the linoleum floor. “Do not speak about my kid like that. Jude never throws a punch unless someone crosses a line first. Now tell your son to explain exactly what happened.” Every person in the room freezes rigid. The little boy’s lip trembles, and he bursts into loud sobs. “He called Jude a motherless stray… everyone in class teases him about it.” I turn to the furious woman, tone flat and unforgiving. “You heard him. Your son threw the first insult. Jude only defended himself—you ought to thank him for not hurting your child worse.” She yanks her crying son forward, forcing a rushed apology. I glance down at Jude. “You still acted out of line. Say sorry for hitting him.” Jude blinks, confused. “Why? He insulted me first.” “He called you motherless, but you have me. Don’t waste your energy fighting over empty words.” Jude’s eyes glisten with emotion, his head drooping slightly. “I’m sorry I hit you.” The chubby boy grins, grabbing Jude’s wrist in awe. “Your mom knows how to fight! I wish my guardian was this cool.” Jude tugs my hand, and we walk out to the black town car waiting curbside. He mumbles quietly, cheeks flushed pink. “You’re nothing like the other women who applied.” My mood lifts instantly. “Does that mean you accept me as your stepmom now?” “All the others screamed at my reptiles, and they always assumed I was the troublemaker before asking questions. You protected me without hesitation. Thank you.” My heart softens completely. “Then call me mom, yeah?” His neck flushes bright red. He stares hard out the passenger window, silent for a long beat. I signal the driver to pull away, ready to drop the subject. “Mom.” The soft word floats off his lips, reflected clearly in the car’s tinted glass. I wrap my arms tight around him, warm joy bubbling up inside me. “Baby, you’re such a sweet kid.” Jude squirms against my hug, too embarrassed to reply.

I carry Jude into the villa entryway, and Kai nearly spills his black espresso all over his tailored suit. He composes himself fast, masking his shock behind a cold, neutral expression. “Jude clearly trusts you fully. Head to the city clerk’s office tomorrow morning to file our marriage papers per the contract.” “Understood, Mr. Rossi.” I lift Jude higher in my arms, pausing at the staircase landing to glance back over my shoulder. “Quick question—our monthly salary doubles once we’re legally married, right?” A faint, hidden smile tugs the corner of Kai’s mouth. “That’s the clause we agreed on.” Relief floods my chest. Ten grand each month is life-changing money. The next day, we exit the municipal clerk building holding a crisp official marriage certificate, and I can’t stop grinning. Kai sits beside me in the town car, his gaze drifting to my reflection in the car window, a quiet happy smile playing across his face that he thinks I won’t notice. Months slip by after we file the license, and I settle into a steady routine with Jude. He’s transformed entirely—once quiet, lonely, and bitter, now he laughs constantly and begs for my attention every single day. He refuses to sleep alone through thunderstorms anymore, demands bedtime stories every night, begs me to teach him hand-to-hand combat, and drags me to climb estate trees, splash each other in the garden fountain, and feed every lizard and tarantula in his collection together. The estate butler watches our chaotic daily antics with a weary fond grin. “Master Jude has never laughed half this much in all seven years of his life. You two match perfectly, like you were always meant to be together.” Kai also changes drastically. He used to leave the mansion before sunrise and return long after midnight, buried under syndicate and corporate work. Now he sits at every single family breakfast, lunch, and dinner without fail. On weekends, he drives us to high-end supermarkets, amusement parks, and aquariums, pushing back dozens of critical business meetings just to tag along. The butler pulled me aside one afternoon to whisper a secret. “Mr. Rossi canceled more board meetings these past few months than he skipped in the entire six years before Jude was born combined.” I brush the comment off casually. “He neglected his son for half a decade. He’s just making up for lost time.” A week later, I take Jude shopping in a luxury downtown mall—and run straight into Chloe and Ezra. Chloe’s stomach bulges with her pregnancy, and she smirks when she spots me, voice dripping with mocking disdain. “Sage? You left the Hale family just to become a live-in maid? How utterly humiliating for our family name.” Ezra wraps an arm around her waist, his eyes sliding judgmentally over Jude’s designer clothes. “Chloe’s due in two months, and she’ll need someone to handle newborn care full-time. Word on the street claims you can’t have children of your own. Instead of tending to a stranger’s boy, come work for us as a live-in maternity nurse—at least you’ll get to pretend you have a kid of your own.” Jude’s jaw tightens, ready to snap back, but I place a hand on his shoulder to hold him quiet. I level a sharp glare at the pair. “Your mouths reek so bad I’m shocked you didn’t brush your teeth before leaving the house. Have some decency for your unborn child and stop spewing garbage. I know you forged that fake medical report to ruin my wedding day, Chloe.” “You two schemed to destroy my life for wealth and status. Don’t act like you hold any moral high ground. Scum belongs with scum.” Ezra lifts his palm to strike me, but I twist his wrist hard with one sharp motion. A sick pop echoes through the mall corridor, and he screams in excruciating pain. “Sage! How dare you hurt Ezra!” Chloe shrieks. I wipe my palms clean of invisible dust, cold and unyielding. “If either of you harass me or my kid again, I’ll lay both of you flat. I held back all those years only out of respect for Jesse’s memory—no more mercy from now on.” I grab Jude’s hand and walk away, Ezra’s furious shouts echoing behind us. “I’ll track down every detail of your new job! I’ll make sure every high-society venue in Manhattan blacklists you for good!” That evening inside Kai’s private study, his lead assistant lays a full incident report across the mahogany desk. “Boss, Mrs. Voss-Rossi ran into Ezra Carter and Chloe Hale at the mall today. Ezra attempted to strike her; she dislocated his wrist. Before leaving, Ezra swore he’d ruin her reputation across the city.” Kai closes the file, his tone icy and lethal. “Let him dig all he wants. Send formal gala invitations for Jude’s seventh birthday charity ball to both the Hale and Carter families. I’ll publicly reveal Sage’s official identity as my wife in front of every elite socialite and mafia affiliate in New York that night.” “Every humiliation Sage endured at their hands these past three years— I’ll repay every last ounce of it.”

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This was the thirty-third time my fiancé Ethan had left me alone in the bridal shop because of his stepsister Jessica. Every single time we scheduled a wedding photo shoot, Ethan would find some excuse not to show up. I called to ask why. His tone was dismissive. “Jessica wanted to travel. I’m already in Miami with her. There’s really no way I can come back. We’ll deal with the wedding photos next month.” Jessica snatched the phone. “You’re calling to bother us over something this trivial? It’s not like this is the first time you’ve missed a shoot. You should be used to it by now.” This time, I didn’t take off the wedding dress and slink away. Instead, I smiled and dialed Ethan’s best friend. “Vincent, if you can get to the bridal shop in five minutes, I’ll marry you.” …… By the time the shoot was finished, it was already evening. I changed out of the gown and settled into the lounge area, leaving a quick five-star review for the shop on Instagram. The post had barely gone up when Ethan’s number flashed on my screen. But the voice on the other end was Jessica’s, dripping with affected sweetness: “Olivia, taking wedding photos all by yourself and posting about it? Doesn’t that feel lonely?” I leaned back against the sofa. “Not as lonely as you.” “My post went up less than ten seconds ago, and here you are calling. Watching my Instagram like a hawk, lurking on every single one of my accounts like a little mouse—who’s the lonely one here?” Jessica’s composure shattered. “I wasn’t stalking you! I just happened to see it!” I couldn’t be bothered to keep talking to her. I hung up. Shortly after, a string of texts from Ethan rolled in. 【Olivia, do you have any idea how hard Jessica is to calm down?】 【She called you because she cares about you. Why did you have to snap at her? When are you going to fix that temper of yours?】 I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened Instagram and made another post. The caption was simple: *My fiancé and I are having our wedding this weekend. All friends welcome.* The comments section exploded. 【Oh my God, Olivia, you and Ethan are finally getting married? Congratulations!】 【I thought you two broke up ages ago. You’re really doing it? I’ll be there this weekend for sure!】 【New York’s most beautiful bride is finally walking down the aisle. Ethan really waited for this day.】 I was about to reply when Ethan’s comment appeared right at the top. 【Olivia, have you lost your mind? I’m still in Miami with Jessica. There’s no way I can make it back to New York for a wedding this weekend. Can you stop making decisions on your own?】 【Delete this right now and tell everyone you made it up, before you embarrass yourself.】 I ignored Ethan’s orders. Because my wedding no longer required him as the groom.

What I hadn’t expected was that Ethan would buy a last-minute red-eye flight back. Jessica came with him. At two in the morning, Ethan threw open the front door, seething. Jessica’s eyes were swollen and red. The moment she saw me, she started in with her grievances. “Happy now, Olivia? Ethan and I finally get a chance to unwind, and you have to pull this fake wedding stunt and force us to fly back in the middle of the night.” “You completely ruined my Miami trip!” I glanced at Ethan, then at her. My voice was calm. “Nobody asked you to come back.” Ethan’s voice was sharp with anger. “Olivia, I came back to talk to you like a reasonable person. Delete that post. I’m not ready to marry you yet. Just wait a little longer.” My answer was simple. “No.” Ethan took a deep breath. “Olivia, how long are you going to keep this up?” “Everyone is watching. Do you realize you’re forcing me into this?” Jessica scoffed. “Ethan, she’s obviously doing this to pressure you into marrying her so she can keep you away from me.” Then she turned to me. “Ethan and I are just siblings. It’s not what you think. You’re the one with the dirty mind, seeing something wrong everywhere. Delete that post now.” I didn’t acknowledge her. I looked at Ethan and said the same two words: “Not deleting.” Ethan laughed bitterly. “Fine. Then I won’t show up to the wedding either. You’ll be standing there with no groom. The one who’ll look like a fool is you, not me.” I smiled. “Whether you show up or not doesn’t matter. You’ve been absent from my life for a long time already, haven’t you? You’ve poured all your time and energy into Jessica. And I, your fiancée, had to wait thirty-three times just to take wedding photos with you.” “Ethan, who exactly is your fiancée?” Ethan frowned, as if I were being completely unreasonable. “Olivia, do you really have to put it so harshly?” “Jessica isn’t an outsider.” “She’s my stepsister.” “She’s important to me. We’ve known each other for years. She depends on me, and I take care of her. What’s wrong with that?” I smiled. Over the past eight years, Jessica would call him in the middle of the night, saying she couldn’t sleep. Ethan would leave me without hesitation and drive over to keep her company. In the beginning, he’d still feel guilty. He’d hold me and say she just lacked a sense of security. But as time went on, they grew more and more brazen. Whenever Jessica needed anything, Ethan would cancel every plan he had with me to be with her. And if I so much as expressed displeasure, I became the unreasonable one—immature, graceless, not generous enough. I looked up at Ethan. “So in your eyes, she can take up your time whenever she wants, interrupt every date we have—” “And I, as your fiancée, don’t even have the right to mind. Is that it?” Ethan softened his tone. “Olivia, I know you want to marry me as soon as possible.” “But I really don’t like this side of you. You used to be so easygoing, so reasonable. Why do you have to push me like this now?” I looked down at Jessica’s arm hooked through his. Her body was practically pressed against him, and Ethan made no effort whatsoever to put distance between them. I couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. “Ethan, you have absolutely no sense of boundaries.” “Is Jessica your stepsister or your lover?” Jessica’s tears appeared on cue. “Olivia, you’re insane! There is nothing between Ethan and me! Why do you keep making these disgusting assumptions about us!” Ethan wrapped his arm around Jessica’s shoulders and wiped her tears for her. “Olivia, apologize to Jessica. Right now.” I found it absurd. “Apologize for what?” Ethan erupted. “You made Jessica cry! Of course you need to apologize!” Just then, Vincent strolled in, fashionably late. Ethan did a double take. “What are you doing at my place in the middle of the night?” Vincent glanced at me. “I’m here to help Olivia move out.” Ethan blinked, then visibly relaxed. A smug, knowing expression spread across his face. “Thanks, Vincent, but it’s really not that serious. Olivia and I are just having a little couple’s spat.” His tone was dripping with self-satisfied understanding. “Actually, do me a favor and talk some sense into her.” “Tell her to grow up and stop doing things that only embarrass herself.” Then he looked down at Jessica in his arms, his voice going soft immediately. “I need to take Jessica to a hotel first.” “She took a red-eye to get back here. She’s exhausted.” Vincent lowered his head and smiled—a smile loaded with meaning. “Sure. Leave everything here to me.”

With Vincent’s help, I moved out that very night. When Ethan discovered I was gone, the messages started pouring in. 【I know you’re upset, but you really can’t pressure me like this. Marriage is a big deal. You just announce a wedding out of nowhere—I’m not mentally prepared for that.】 【Olivia, it’s not that I don’t want to marry you, but now really isn’t a good time. Jessica hasn’t been doing well lately and she needs me around. Can’t you just wait a little longer?】 【Olivia, I’m serious. I’m not ready for marriage at all. Pushing me like this is only going to make me resent you.】 And so it went, all the way until the day before the wedding. I didn’t reply to a single message. But that evening, Jessica sent me a video. I tapped it open. The screen first showed a lavish hotel suite. The lighting was dim. White sheets lay tangled across the bed. A champagne flute on the nightstand was still half full. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the midnight ocean of Miami stretched into darkness. The camera panned slowly. Ethan appeared in the frame. He sat on the sofa, shirt collar hanging open, hair falling across his forehead in disarray. Jessica was curled against his chest, wearing a thin-strapped slip dress, her body draped over him like silk. She looked drunk—but the eyes that met the camera were perfectly lucid. She reached up deliberately, hooked a finger around Ethan’s tie, and pulled him toward her, inch by inch. Ethan didn’t resist. His hand rested on her waist. Jessica tilted her face up and kissed him on the lips. The frame held for two seconds. Then she looked straight into the camera. The corner of her mouth curled into the smile of a victor. The video ended there. Her call came in right after. “Did you watch it? Ethan’s cheating on you. If even that isn’t enough to make you cancel the wedding, then you really are something else.” “If I were you, I’d be dead from rage by now. You’d fit right into the Victorian era—the kind of devoted wife who watches her husband hold another woman and keeps smiling through it all.” My voice didn’t waver. “Still better than being the mistress who never gets a ring.” Jessica hung up in a fury. On the day of the wedding, I was already in my gown. Guests filed in one after another, offering their congratulations. I smiled and thanked each of them. Ethan walked in wearing a tracksuit. When he saw me, a flash of genuine awe passed through his eyes. “I’ll give you this—you picked a beautiful dress on your own.” But within seconds, Jessica appeared at his side in a formal gown, hooking her arm through his. Her makeup was immaculate. She wore a pale pink dress. The guests exchanged bewildered glances. A few seconds later, murmurs rippled through the room. “Isn’t that the groom? Why isn’t he in a tux?” “Who’s that woman with him? Why is she on his arm?” “This is Olivia’s wedding, isn’t it? Why did Ethan bring another woman?” A fiancé in athletic wear with another woman on his arm, while the bride stood alone in her wedding dress on the opposite side of the room—no matter how you looked at it, something was off. Ethan ignored the questioning stares and launched into his stiff explanation. “Let me make one thing clear. There’s nothing going on between me and Jessica.” “That video you saw of us looking intimate—we staged the whole thing. We just wanted you to call off the wedding. Didn’t expect you’d actually go through with it.” Jessica nodded beside him, her voice saccharine-sweet—a completely different person from the venom of the night before. “That’s right, Olivia. The whole thing was my idea. I just wanted to test how much you really care about Ethan.” “The fact that you watched that video and those photos without even flinching—your devotion to Ethan is truly admirable.” I looked at the two of them and smiled faintly. “I don’t care what you do anymore.” Ethan sensed something was off. A flicker of panic crossed his face. “Jessica is my stepsister. Just like Vincent is my friend. They’re both important people in my life.” “You can’t marry me and then demand I ignore my stepsister’s feelings. I told you, Jessica hasn’t been well lately. I need to spend more time with her. Can’t we just postpone the wedding instead of canceling it?” “You know how much I value relationships.” “Family, friendship—they all matter to me.” “I can’t just abandon my stepsister because I’m getting married.” I looked at his open, guileless expression and couldn’t help but point something out. “Ethan.” “You keep saying family is important. Friends are important.” “But haven’t you noticed that your most important friend isn’t by your side today?” “Take a guess where he’s going to show up.”

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The day before Valentine’s, my boyfriend told me he had a three-day work trip to New Orleans. I offered to come along, but he said: “It’s a company project. Bringing you wouldn’t be appropriate.” The very next day, I saw Chloe—my best friend—post on Instagram: a nighttime shot of St. Louis Cathedral. The caption read: “NOLA is stunning. Thanks Ethan, for showing me these lights tonight.” I called him. He picked up right away. In the background, Chloe’s flirty voice chimed in, “Ethan, this skewer of shrimp is for you.” My voice went hoarse. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a work trip alone?” He answered lightly. “Oh, Chloe wanted to get out for a bit, so I brought her along. It’s on the way anyway.” “The company’s covering it. It’s just one extra hotel room.” After I hung up, Chloe posted another Story. She and Ethan at the French Market, each holding a Cajun shrimp skewer, both beaming. It wasn’t until the evening of the third day that I finally got a message from Ethan. “Nora, I’m coming back tomorrow. Want anything as a souvenir?” I stared at my screen. Chloe had just posted her eighth New Orleans location tag. The caption read: “Third trip with Ethan. Perfect.” I typed slowly: “No need. Just have fun.” He replied instantly: “You’re so understanding. I’ll take you next time.” I didn’t respond. Because I knew—there wouldn’t be a next time. … That night, when Ethan came home, he brought Chloe through the door with him. I was sitting on the couch, lights off, just sitting there. The door opened, and Chloe’s laughter poured in first. “Nora!” She had her arm hooked through Ethan’s, the other hand hauling two stuffed paper bags. “We brought back so much for you!” Ethan changed his shoes, glanced my way, tone casual: “Chloe’s place is out of the way. She’ll stay in the guest room tonight, just make do.” I looked at him. He’d already hung up his coat and was leaning down to take the paper bags from Chloe, setting them on the table. Chloe unpacked everything one by one—pralines, beignet mix, a bottle of Cajun spice, a limited-edition mini Tabasco. And a tote bag printed with the wrought-iron balconies of the French Quarter. “Come on, Nora, sit over here!” She patted the couch, and once I moved over, she launched into stories about NOLA. “Did you know, the moment they lit up Jackson Square at night, I just froze.” “Ethan was right there next to me. I told him I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life!” “She stood there for a good twenty minutes. I couldn’t pull her away.” Ethan chimed in, a smile at the corner of his mouth. “And then Bourbon Street!” Chloe turned to him. “Ethan, how many oysters did you have that night?” “A dozen.” “Right! A whole dozen! I told him, you can really eat—” The two of them chatted and laughed. I couldn’t get a word in. Not that anyone cared whether I could. I suddenly remembered a week ago, when I’d leaned over the desk and shown Ethan my Valentine’s Day plans on my phone. I’d looked up a couple’s restaurant in advance. He’d pulled me close then, resting his chin on top of my head, and said: “Valentine’s is just us two. Nobody’s gonna get in the way.” Valentine’s was here now. So this was his idea of nobody getting in the way? “Nora?” Chloe called. She switched topics, now telling me about a vintage photo studio in the French Quarter, how Ethan had picked out a cream-colored Southern-belle gown for her, and how passersby had stopped to take pictures when she tried it on. “Ethan said I looked like I’d stepped out of an old movie. Isn’t he too sweet?” Ethan lowered his head and laughed, not denying it. I looked away and stared at the pile of stuff on the table. Their laughter filled the whole living room. I sat at the end of the couch like a decoration someone had put in the wrong place. Ethan must have noticed how quiet I’d gotten. He casually pulled a few items toward me and said: “These are for you. Picked them out just for you. Don’t overthink it, alright? I was just bringing her along for a change of scene. You get it, right?” I looked down at the items. A bottle of Tabasco, a bag of pecan candies, and a box of cookies with a crushed corner. Picked out just for me, he said. Get it. I rolled the phrase around silently, didn’t say it out loud. Then I got up and walked toward the bedroom. Neither of them noticed. They kept laughing in the living room. I closed the bedroom door behind me. The sounds outside didn’t disappear, just got a little quieter. Ethan’s backpack was slung over the back of a chair. I bumped it when I shut the door. The zipper hadn’t been closed properly. A lipstick rolled out and landed on the floor. I bent down to pick it up. Strawberry flavored. Not my shade. I peered inside the bag and saw a Polaroid. Bourbon Street. A whole neon-lit wall as the backdrop. Ethan on the right. Chloe leaning sideways against him. His hand on her shoulder. Both of them laughing. Underneath was a hotel receipt. Yeah. One room. I put everything back, closed the bag, and looked out the window. Out in the living room, Chloe was asking Ethan what building was printed on the tote bag. He was explaining, she was laughing. Their voices sounded close enough to be in the same room with me. I didn’t sleep that night. At three in the morning, I opened my phone and pulled up an email I’d left sitting for two months. It was from my advisor in Paris, inviting me to a three-year research program in France. The last time I’d opened it was one evening when Ethan was propped up in bed watching a show. I’d hesitated for a long time, snuck a glance at him, and finally closed it. Back then, I couldn’t bear to leave him. Now, I opened the reply box: “Professor Laurent, I’m confirming my acceptance of the research position. Please advise on the next steps.”

The next day, I was woken by noise from the kitchen. I opened the bedroom door and saw Chloe standing at the stove, wearing Ethan’s oversized gray loungewear, frying eggs. She pressed down on the yolk with the spatula, tilted her head, and asked Ethan: “You like them sunny-side up, right?” Ethan was leaning against the cabinet next to the stove, looking down at her: “Sunny-side up. Good memory.” “Of course.” Chloe shot him a coy look. “I remember everything about you.” I walked over and sat down at the table. It was already set. Ethan came over carrying two cups, set one in front of Chloe and pushed the other toward me. I glanced down. Iced Americano. No sugar, no milk. But I liked mine sweet. I didn’t drink black coffee. The one who drank unsweetened black coffee was Chloe. At the table, Chloe spoke up. “Nora, I just broke up with someone, and it’s too depressing to be home. Mind if I stay here a few more days?” “You guys have plenty of space. I’ll just tuck into a corner, I won’t be in the way.” Before I could open my mouth, Ethan answered: “Stay as long as you want. You and Nora are best friends. Better here than out at some hotel—I’d feel more at ease.” So Chloe moved in. That night, Ethan said he had a work dinner. He left with Chloe, the two of them laughing on their way downstairs. I stood on the balcony and watched them walk away. The last thing I saw was Ethan reaching up to smooth her wind-blown hair back into place. I turned my phone face-down on the balcony railing and closed my eyes for a moment. Around ten that night, the lock clicked. I was sitting on the couch. Chloe came in first, makeup still on, laughing as she stepped inside: “Nora, you’re still up?” The first thing I noticed was the necklace on her throat. Tiffany. Heart-shaped pendant. Rose gold chain. Catching my gaze, she smiled: “Ethan said this style suits me. You don’t mind, do you?” I didn’t say anything. Late that night, lying in bed, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I nudged Ethan beside me. He put his phone down. “What?” “That necklace,” I said. “It’s the Valentine’s Day limited edition, isn’t it?” He paused. “It’s just the regular one.” “I looked it up,” I said, looking at him. He was silent for a beat, then let out a sigh, set his glass on the nightstand, and gave me that all-too-familiar expression. Not guilt. Impatience. “Nora, just say what you want to say.” “Chloe is living in our home, wearing my clothes, using my things.” I laid it out one line at a time. “She’s rearranged our décor, she’s wearing the limited-edition necklace you gave her for Valentine’s. Do you think this is normal?” “She just went through a breakup.” He frowned. “And isn’t she your best friend? What’s wrong with me looking out for her a bit more?” “Looking out for her?” I repeated. “Is that what this is called? I’m your girlfriend!” “Can you not blow this out of proportion?” He waved his hand, like he was brushing off an annoyance. “Chloe is a friend. I’m just being a little more attentive to her, and you have to make that face. Do you have any idea how ugly you look right now?” “She’s the one who broke up. You’ve got nothing wrong with your life, what are you being so petty about?” Just then, the bedroom door opened. Chloe walked in, looked at the two of us, and pulled on a pained expression: “Is this because of me… Nora, I’ll go stay at a hotel. I don’t want you two to fight over—” “No need,” Ethan said, turning around, his tone instantly softening. “Don’t overthink it. Nora’s just a little tired, she’s always like this. Don’t take it to heart.” Chloe glanced at me. The glance lasted a second, but I saw it clearly. Not apology. Satisfaction. “You’re overreacting,” Ethan said finally. “You’re being so immature.” I didn’t say another word. I got up, went to the study, sat down at the desk, and read through the program materials from Paris again. Out in the living room, Chloe was comforting Ethan: “Nora’s probably just been under a lot of stress lately. Don’t take it to heart.” He said, “I know. Don’t feel bad.” I closed the calendar. Half a month left.

The next day, mutual friends invited us out to dinner. Knowing I wouldn’t see them for three years, I agreed. By the time I got there after work, almost everyone had arrived. I pushed the door of the private room open and immediately saw Ethan and Chloe sitting side by side. Chloe waved me over. I ignored her and grabbed a seat wherever. Before the food even came, Chloe started intercepting Ethan’s drinks. A guy across the table egged him on: “Ethan, come on, one drink.” She took the glass. “Ethan’s not drinking tonight. I’ll cover for him.” She tipped her head back, downed it, and flashed the guy a smile. Ethan leaned toward her and murmured something. She shook her head, then picked up her fork, cut a piece of salmon, trimmed off the edges, and placed it on his plate. Intercepting drinks. Sharing food. Whispering. Every glance was on him. Maya sat next to me, quietly poked my arm, and gestured toward them with her eyes. I said, “It’s fine. Just eat.” It was raining when the gathering ended. I hadn’t brought an umbrella. Before leaving, I mentioned it to Ethan. He was bent over his phone, hailing an Uber for Chloe. Didn’t even look up. “Mm, call one yourself. I’ll wait with Chloe—I wouldn’t feel right leaving her.” The rain wasn’t heavy, but the Uber’s location glitched twice, traffic was terrible, and by the time I got home I was soaked through. Ethan and Chloe still weren’t back. That night, I took my temperature: 102 degrees. I texted Ethan: “I have a fever. Can you grab me a box of Tylenol from the CVS downstairs on your way back?” Half an hour later, he replied: “Chlo’s not doing great emotionally tonight, I’m going to sit by the river with her for a bit. If you’re feeling really bad, just Uber yourself to urgent care. Don’t tough it out.” I stared at those lines for a long time. He was sitting by the Charles River with her, letting the wind blow through her hair. I put my phone down, grabbed my coat, went downstairs, called a car, and took myself to the nearest urgent care. While I was waiting for my number to be called, Chloe posted an Instagram Story. The photo was the Charles River at night, two trendy coffees perched on the railing, Ethan holding one. Only his profile was in the frame. Wind lifted his hair a little. Lights and water in the background. The caption read: “The night wind is so strong. Thanks for being with me.” I turned my phone face-down on my knee. Urgent care had the AC blasting. I wrapped my coat tight, listened to the nurse call numbers, my mind blank. Early the next morning, I opened my laptop. I’d downloaded the school’s academic leave application form two weeks ago and left it sitting in a folder untouched. I filled it out, attached a copy of Professor Laurent’s invitation letter, and sent it to the department. I’d only chosen this program to stay in Boston. Ethan was here. Every plan I had revolved around this one person. Now I was cutting my last reason loose. The department sent back a confirmation. I cc’d my advisor. Then I opened the email thread from Paris and looked over the flight information again. Two weeks. Then Paris. I saved a screenshot of the itinerary, shut the laptop, and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. In the living room, Chloe was on the couch scrolling Instagram. Ethan sat next to her. They were debating where to go for the weekend. I walked past them with my glass, went back into the study, and closed the door behind me. Soon enough, I wouldn’t have to see them anymore.

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On my wedding day, I walked my blind father down the aisle of the church, and the entire sanctuary suddenly erupted in laughter. Dad tightened his grip on my hand, nervous. “Claire… did Dad embarrass you?” I quickly lifted the lace veil from my face and turned toward the projection screen behind the altar. That was when I finally saw it. A single, bright red USDA pork inspection stamp had been slapped onto each of our faces. From the bridesmaids’ bench, my best friend Bianca Whitmore was doubled over laughing. “Oh my God, Claire, you two are adorable. You look like two little pigs that just rolled off the slaughterhouse conveyor belt.” My fiancé, Nolan Ashford, laughed and pulled a folded check from the inside pocket of his tux, handing it to her. “A bet’s a bet. You win. She really didn’t notice a thing all the way to the altar.” So it was another bet. Back in college, they’d bet on whether I’d actually eat the cereal they’d swapped out for dog kibble. On my birthday, they’d bet how long it would take me to open the gift box stuffed with Monopoly money. And this time. They’d made my blind father a chip in the game too. Nolan held out his hand, coaxing me like a child. “Sweetheart, everyone’s watching. Let’s just finish the ceremony.” I looked at him, then at Dad standing beside me, disoriented, still not understanding what had happened. This time, I wasn’t going to swallow it. … “Claire, why’d you stop? Are you mad?” When I didn’t answer, Bianca picked up two flutes of champagne and stepped down from the bridesmaids’ bench. She pressed one of them straight into my father’s hand. “Mr. Sutton, it was just a little joke to lighten the mood. You’re too much of a gentleman to take something like that to heart, right?” Dad couldn’t see the ridiculous red stamp on his own face. He accepted the flute awkwardly and tipped his head back, draining it in one go. “Of course not. It’s Claire’s wedding. As long as everyone’s having a good time…” He didn’t finish. His body suddenly folded forward, and he started dry-heaving violently. Bianca clapped her hands and laughed out loud. “Nolan honey, you lose again!” “I told you a blind man’s sense of smell isn’t that sharp.” “I literally squeezed half a tube of septic-tank slug juice into that glass, and Mr. Sutton chugged it!” Laughter and camera shutters exploded all around us. Nolan’s face did tighten. But not because my father had just been publicly humiliated. Because his wedding had gone off script. I watched Dad forcing himself to endure it, that meek little smile on his face. I couldn’t listen to another second of it. “Nolan Ashford, the wedding is off.” I steadied my father, who was swaying on his feet. “Dad, we’re leaving.” Nolan finally panicked. He rushed down from the altar and caught my wrist, lowering his voice. “Claire, Bianca takes jokes too far, I know. I’ll make her apologize to your father myself, later.” “Every guest in this church is staring at us. Don’t blow this up any bigger.” I shook his hand off and walked straight for the church doors without looking back. Bianca’s voice drifted after me, wounded in exactly the right pitch. “Claire Sutton, it was just a joke. Are you seriously doing this?” … Mass General. The emergency room. A nurse worked over our faces with alcohol wipes, one careful pass at a time. I could guess when it had happened. Before the ceremony, Bianca had insisted on doing our “touch-ups.” My face had foundation on it, and once it was wiped away, only a few faint pink marks remained. Dad’s face wouldn’t come clean, no matter what she tried. The skin had already scrubbed raw and red, and yet he was the one smiling at me, trying to comfort me. “It’s okay, Claire. Walking around with a mark on my face isn’t the end of the world.” “Dad just made trouble for you again. Because of me, you didn’t even get your wedding…” I lowered my head. My throat was too tight to say a word. How could I blame him. It was Nolan and Bianca who had always treated me like a chip at their table. Like the summer after graduation, when the three of us had planned to go skydiving together. They’d coaxed me into jumping first. Then they’d stayed in the cabin, filming me at my worst, betting on whether I’d cry from sheer humiliation the moment my feet hit the ground. But this time, they had no right to make my father a punchline in their game. I opened my phone. The college group chat was already blowing up. 【Bianca is a legend, I peed a little laughing, two little pigs 💀】 【Claire is being SO dramatic though?? She really called off her own wedding in front of everyone???】 【Guys don’t forget, Nolan only confessed to her back in the day because he bet Bianca he could pull the scholarship kid.】 【And she said yes on the spot and followed him around for five years like a puppy. I can’t 😭】 I stared at the messages scrolling past. So that was it. Even the first “I love you” of this entire relationship had just been a bet. It was over. 【Ding.】 A new email pushed through. Munich Ophthalmology Institute. Dad’s surgery had finally been scheduled. At last, I could take him and leave.

After I got Dad settled in his hospital room, Nolan finally messaged me. His tone had already slid back into its familiar gentleness. 【Claire, today was on us, I know. But you also overreacted, just a little.】 【I already booked our honeymoon flights. Aspen. I’m taking you to see the snow you’ve always wanted to see.】 I stared at the screen, and my mind ran back through every single time before this. Every time Bianca had used me as the punchline of a bet, Nolan had come around afterward to apologize. He said Bianca didn’t mean it. He said he’d never wanted to hurt me. He said I was too sensitive, too fragile. I had believed him for five years. I had swallowed it for five years. But I get cold easily. What I wanted was somewhere warm. I had told him. For our honeymoon, I wanted the Amalfi Coast. Aspen was where Bianca had been begging to go. Sure enough, the next message came right after. 【Bianca’s coming with us, more the merrier.】 I didn’t reply. I called an Uber back to the apartment. Before I left, all I wanted was Dad’s medical file and my own passport. The moment I pushed the door open, a burst of confetti exploded over my head. “Surprise! Claire, happy birthday!” The living room was packed with our college friends. Nolan and Bianca stood at the center, pushing a tiered cake between them. “Claire, the wedding was our fault.” Nolan’s voice was soft. “This cake is my way of making it up to you. Don’t be mad anymore, okay?” But today wasn’t my birthday. My birthday was this same date, next month. Five years together, and Nolan had gotten it wrong every single year. The crowd cheered, urging me to cut the cake. I wasn’t in the mood. I sidestepped everyone and headed for the bedroom to grab my things. Bianca cut in front of me first. She scooped a dollop of frosting off the cake with her finger and lifted it to my lips, smiling sweetly. “Come on, Claire, just a taste. I made this for you myself.” I didn’t have time to pull back. The frosting smeared hard across my mouth. An off, foul taste flooded my tongue, and my throat began to tighten almost instantly. I looked down, eyes wide. Deep inside the exposed layer of the cake, several dark red things were slowly writhing. Leeches. The one thing that could actually kill me. I’d been severely allergic to them since childhood. A single contact could send me into shock. Nolan knew. His brow finally furrowed. “Bianca, this stake might be a little far this time.” Bianca just pursed her lips, unbothered. “I don’t care. She ate it, didn’t she? That new Porsche of yours is mine.” Nolan could see I was already struggling to breathe, and he reached out to steady me. “Claire, let me get you to the ER.” But Bianca suddenly clamped down on my arm. “Claire, you barely got any of it. It can’t be that bad, can it…” “Are you still holding a grudge about the church?” Her nails dug into my skin. My breathing was getting worse. I ripped my arm out of her grip on instinct. Bianca stumbled back. The back of her hand caught the metal edge of the cake cart, opening a thin red scratch. “Bianca!” Nolan let go of me instantly and rushed over. The others swarmed in around her, panicked. Nobody noticed I could barely stand. I made it into the bedroom on unsteady legs and started stuffing what I needed into a bag, piece by piece. Voices drifted through the door. “Honestly, Nolan’s the one who’s actually into Bianca.” “Do you remember, years ago, Bianca dared him he wouldn’t hike the White Mountains ridge alone. He actually went, in the middle of a storm. Nearly died…” A bet. The White Mountains. My fingers snapped tight around Dad’s medical file. The date of injury written inside was five years ago, exactly, on the day Nolan had gone up alone. That day, he had been caught in a landslide. My father, a park ranger for White Mountain National Forest, had been the first to go in after him. Dad had pulled Nolan out of the rubble. And then a second wave of rocks had come down and struck him on the back of the head. Permanent damage to the optic nerve. He had never seen anything again. For five years, Nolan had told me it was an accident. But it turned out. The whole thing had started because of a throwaway dare between him and Bianca. Everything my father had lost, an entire world, had been the price of paying off their little wager. I picked up my bag with unsteady hands and stepped out of the bedroom. Nolan was bent over Bianca, murmuring to her. He heard me and turned, frowning. “Claire, it’s the middle of the night. Where do you think you’re going with a bag?” “We fly to Aspen for our honeymoon first thing in the morning. You really have to pick now to throw a fit?” I didn’t dignify it with an answer. I walked straight for the door. Behind me, Bianca’s voice carried that perfect note of triumph. “Nolan honey, I’ll bet you, she can’t keep this tantrum up for even a day.” “By tomorrow morning at the airport, she’ll be right behind us like a good girl.”

After I left, someone dropped a video from the party into the group chat. Bianca was clearly drunk in it, cheeks flushed pink. “Nolan Ashford, you’ve lost three rounds in a row now. You have to be my husband for a whole month!” Nolan gave a helpless laugh and nodded, agreeing. The rest of them started chanting. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The video cut off there. I spent the entire night being resuscitated in the ER. Morning. At my bedside, Dad was gripping my hand hard, his unseeing eyes rimmed red from staying up. “Claire, you scared Dad to death… The doctor said ten more minutes and you wouldn’t have made it.” I didn’t say a word about the truth of the night before. I only told him I’d eaten something bad and it triggered an allergic reaction. Nolan hadn’t called once the entire night. He’d sent two flat, hollow voice memos in the early hours of the morning. 【Claire, did you end up in the ER?】 【Don’t be mad anymore. I’ll come by first thing tomorrow to check on you and Dad.】 Dad heard the voice memo notifications and his face brightened at once. “Nolan’s coming to see you? Are you two making up?” “He’s a good boy. When I brought him down from that mountain, he got on his knees and swore to me he’d take care of you.” Yes. Nolan had made that promise, right in front of my father. That he would take care of me. But for five years, he had let Bianca use me as her toy at the gaming table over and over. Dad reached for his white cane and insisted on going downstairs to wait. Nothing I said would stop him. Two hours passed. I stood at the hospital-room window and looked down at Boston’s cold morning wind, and at Dad’s hunched figure, standing on his white cane, waiting. Nolan didn’t come. Bianca, however, had posted a new Instagram Story. In the photo, Nolan was sitting at her family’s dining table, sipping coffee with her parents, all of them laughing. The caption read. 【My dad said he missed Nolan. He dropped everything and came right over. 🥰】 Looking down at that hunched silhouette on the sidewalk, my nose stung. Nolan didn’t finally arrive until the afternoon. Bianca was trailing right behind him. “Mr. Sutton, Nolan brought me to come see you.” She smiled and pressed two ivory-colored official folders into Dad’s hands together. “This is our marriage certificate. Feel the cover.” Dad’s rough fingertips traced the embossed gold lettering, and his eyes filled instantly. “Good… good… Claire finally got to marry Nolan…” He couldn’t see. He thought it was my marriage certificate and Nolan’s. But I could see it perfectly clearly. Inside the folder were the names Nolan Ashford and Bianca Whitmore. Date of registration: this morning. Nolan caught the look on my face and grabbed my wrist, dragging me out into the hallway. “Claire, don’t spiral on me.” “I only went to City Hall with Bianca because I lost the bet. Her parents have been pushing her to get married, and I was just going along with it to make them happy.” “We’ll be divorced in a month. Then you and I can go get our own license, okay?” He treated marriage like a party game. And he treated me like a fool. I looked at him and, all of a sudden, I didn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore. “Nolan, we’re done.” He blinked, brows pulling together. “Claire Sutton, we already had the wedding. This is just paperwork.” “Can you please not blow every little thing up like this?” The door to the hospital room opened. Bianca leaned out, pouting. “Nolan honey, we still have to go pick up honeymoon stuff. The stores will close if we’re any later.” Nolan called back over his shoulder. Bianca smiled and looped her arm through his, and the two of them disappeared down the corridor. I walked back into the room, ready to make up some excuse. But I found tears streaming from Dad’s lightless eyes. “Claire, don’t hide it from Dad anymore… I heard everything.” “Leave him. We’re not putting up with this.” I fought down the burning in my throat and nodded, hard. That night, Nolan sent me a message. 【Nine a.m. flight tomorrow, headed for Aspen.】 【Come on your own. And stop with the theatrics.】 I didn’t reply. I opened the airline’s website and booked two one-way tickets overseas. Boston to Munich. Lufthansa Flight 423. Departure: eight a.m. the next morning.

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