Category: English

My brother Alex worships me. When we were ten, kidnappers took me instead of him. They scarred my face and broke my legs before letting me go. Alex rebuilt our father’s crumbling empire into a weapon. To him, I became sacred—insult me, and you died. A man called me a freak. Alex fed him to starving rats. Another mocked my limp. He crushed him under a steamroller. To Port Sterling, Alex was the Boogeyman. To me, he was just my brother—the man who sent me abroad for surgeries, therapy, and an education far from our bloody legacy. Before I returned home, he sent an engagement announcement: “Soon you’ll have a sister to spoil you too.” But when I arrived at the villa he bought me, his fiancée Veronica stormed in, convinced I was his mistress. Alex found me broken on the floor as she sobbed: “Am I nothing compared to this whore?” His eyes burned. “How many lives do you have to compare to hers?” … CRASH! The floor-to-ceiling window of the villa imploded, spraying glass across the marble floor. A pack of wolves in human skin barged in, their faces twisted with aggression. At their head was a woman whose face I recognized instantly from the photo Alex had sent me just days ago. My future sister-in-law, Veronica. Before I could even form a greeting, her face contorted with fury. She hefted a crowbar and swung it, the metal crashing against my face. A sickening crunch echoed in my skull, followed by a gush of warmth over my lips. I touched my face. Blood. The unexpected blow sent the world spinning. “There you are, you little bitch,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “Finally crawled out of your hole. I was starting to think you’d hide overseas forever!” While I was still reeling, she swung again, the crowbar slamming into my head and ribs. Pain exploded through me. I stumbled back, trying to shield my head, and tripped, collapsing onto the floor. “You don’t understand, I’m—” My words were cut short as Veronica jammed the end of the crowbar into my mouth, ramming it forward twice with vicious force. A sharp, metallic agony tore through my cheeks, and the coppery tang of blood flooded my throat. I choked, spitting out a mouthful of red. “I understand perfectly!” she shrieked, her eyes wild. “Don’t think I don’t know you wheedled Alex into buying you this place! You knew we were getting engaged, and you came crawling back to wreck it. Or, at the very least, stick around as his prized little slut, right?” “Today, you’re going to learn what happens when you cross me!” She kicked me, sending me sprawling. The back of my head struck the sharp corner of the coffee table, and a fresh wave of pain erupted as the skin split open. Panic and rage warred within me. I swallowed the blood pooling in my mouth and forced out the words. “You’re wrong! I’m Alex Sterling’s sister! His actual sister! He sent me a message a few days ago, telling me to come back for the engagement party…” Veronica froze for a second. One of the brutes behind her leaned in and muttered, “Boss, I have heard that Mr. Sterling has a sister who’s been abroad for years. We’ve never seen her, but the rumor is they’re twins.” Veronica’s eyes swept over my face with contempt. “Twins? This little whore looks nothing like Alex.” Just then, another figure entered the villa. It was Rose, one of my brother’s most trusted lieutenants. A veteran of the Sterling Crew. She would recognize me! “Rose! It’s me, Chloe!” I cried out, my voice thick and mangled. Rose paused, her gaze finding me on the floor. “Who’s this? How does she know my name?” she asked, confused. But Veronica didn’t give her time to think. She swung the crowbar again, a brutal, silencing blow across my mouth. The pain was so intense I couldn’t make another sound. “She’s the little bitch I told you about,” Veronica said smoothly. “Must have overheard one of the boys talking to you.” Rose shook her head slowly. “No… she said her name was Chloe. That’s the name of the boss’s sister. No one outside the inner circle would know that.” She strode toward me and gripped my chin, her eyes scrutinizing my features. “This face… it’s not her.” My heart sank. She hadn’t seen me since the surgeries. “Wait,” Rose said, her eyes widening slightly. “The young miss was sent away for reconstructive surgery. Has your face… been worked on?” I nodded frantically, a desperate hope surging through me. Yes, it’s me! I’m Chloe Sterling! Veronica scoffed from the side. “She’s a gold digger who lives by her looks. Of course she’s had work done. It’s practically a job requirement.” Rose held up a hand to silence her. “A face can be faked. An identity can’t. Search her.” Two of the goons grabbed me. I thrashed wildly, but Veronica slapped me hard across the face. “Hold still.” They bound my wrists, and the rough hands of the goons pawed at me, a profound violation. All my life, Alex had ensured no one laid a finger on me. If he knew about this, their hands would already be feeding the dogs. Rose watched, a flicker of caution in her eyes. “What if you’re wrong? If she really is his sister, we’re all dead.” Veronica just smiled, lighting a cigarette she offered to Rose. “Relax. I’m about to marry Alex. Even if I roughed up his sister in a fit of jealous passion, he’d see it as proof of how much I care. He’ll forgive me.” Rose took a drag from the cigarette and nodded. “True.” Soon, they found my wallet. Veronica snatched it and burst out laughing. “See? I told you the little bitch was lying.” Rose leaned in, reading my ID aloud. “Tina Chen.” She then flipped open my university diploma. “Enrolled as Tina.” “It’s a fake,” Rose declared, her voice turning to ice. “The boss’s sister is named Chloe Sterling. And he sent her to South Korea for her recovery, not England.” A cold dread washed over me. After the kidnapping, to protect me, Alex had moved me off the family records and given me our mother’s surname. He never wanted me to be a target again. He hadn’t told a soul. He had even faked my destination. Oh, Alex, I thought in despair. Your protection is going to get me killed. Rose’s expression hardened. “This bitch dared to impersonate the boss’s sister. Teach her a lesson.” They threw me to the ground and began to kick and punch me. In the chaos, my phone skittered out of my pocket, its screen lighting up. The lock screen was a photo of Alex and me, smiling together. Rose’s face went pale. “Wait!” She picked up the phone, her hand trembling. “Is this yours?” I nodded desperately. Veronica sneered, “It’s just a picture, Rose. She probably photoshopped it.” I grunted, trying to gesture for Rose to unlock the phone. She understood, holding it up to my face. It unlocked with facial recognition, and she swiped into my messages, finding my chat history with Alex. “She really has him saved as ‘Brother’!” Rose exclaimed. Veronica grabbed the phone. “Every gold-digging tramp calls her sugar daddy ‘daddy’ or ‘brother’! Don’t fall for it!” She scrolled up, and her face darkened with rage. “What the hell? Not only did he buy you a villa, he calls you ‘sweetheart’ and says he never wants to be apart from you again?” She looked at me, her eyes burning with a new level of hatred. “He’s really setting you up as his permanent little plaything!” I wanted to explain—that he was my only family, that he just wanted me home—but the pain in my mouth was a gag, silencing me. No one had ever dared to touch me, and now his own fiancée had beaten me half to death while his own people stood by, unable to even recognize me. Alex, it hurts so much. The thought brought a fresh wave of silent tears. Rose watched me, a frown creasing her brow. “You know, her temperament is a lot like the young miss. Can’t stand the slightest grievance, cries at the drop of a hat.” She hesitated. “Maybe we should double-check. The boss is fiercely protective of his sister. If she’s the real deal, he’ll have our heads.” Veronica nodded, considering it. “Fine. I’ll call him.” Her face twisted into a menacing mask. “If she’s really Alex’s sister, I’ll take full responsibility. But if she’s not…” Her voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. “I’ll make this little bitch regret the day she was born.” She had one of the men gag me properly, then dialed Alex’s number. “Hey, honey,” she cooed into the phone. “You mentioned your sister was coming back for our engagement party. Do you know exactly when she’s getting in? I want to get her a welcome gift, so I was just wondering.” Alex’s voice, warm and familiar, came through the speaker. “That’s thoughtful of you. She said she’ll be here tomorrow night.” My blood ran cold. It’s over. I had changed my flight to today to surprise him. Veronica’s eyes locked on mine, gleaming with vicious triumph. If she hung up now, I was dead. I bit down. Hard. The man holding the gag over my mouth yelped in pain and his hand flew back. “Alex, help me!” I screamed, pouring every last ounce of my strength into the cry. Veronica’s face turned white with rage. She lunged forward, kicking me down and grinding her high heel into my mouth. On the phone, Alex sounded hesitant. “Did I just hear someone yell for help?” Veronica forced a laugh. “It’s just the TV. Anyway, if your sister’s almost here, I’d better go shopping. I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up. The last of my hope died with the click. The pressure of her heel intensified, grinding into the wounds in my mouth. “You lying, scheming whore,” she hissed. “You almost had me.” Tears of pain and despair streamed down my face, which only seemed to fuel her rage. Her eyes, full of a venomous jealousy, raked over me. “It’s this face, isn’t it?” she whispered. “This is how you bewitched him. He was ready to marry me, and he still bought you a mansion.” One of the goons behind her spoke up cautiously. “It’s not that surprising. A guy like the boss… they all have a girl on the side. Since he seems to like her, maybe we should just let her go? You’re the one he’s marrying. You’re the real First Lady. Maybe just turn a blind eye?” Rose chimed in. “He’s right. You’re the one with the ring. She’ll never be more than a fling.” For a moment, Veronica seemed to consider it, a flicker of logic piercing her rage. My heart filled with a bitter, searing injustice. I was his sister, beaten and broken for being mistaken for a mistress. Alex had terrible taste in women. The first thing I would do when I saw him was demand he call off this sham of an engagement. My resentful glare must have been obvious because Veronica’s wavering resolve hardened into fury. “You dare to look at me like that? You little bitch!” she snarled. “Even if I don’t kill you today, I’m going to ruin you!” She pulled her foot back, and from her jacket, she produced a knife. Its blade glinted as she brought it toward my face. “No!” I shrieked, the sound muffled and wet. But my terror only spurred her on. “When you’re an ugly monster,” she seethed, her voice a low, terrifying growl, “Alex will finally see that I’m the only one he should love!” White-hot agony lanced across my skin as she began to draw the blade across my cheek, again and again. The pain was blinding, nearly sending me into unconsciousness. This face… Alex had spent a fortune and three years of painstaking work with the world’s best surgeons to give it back to me. And she was destroying it. He would never, ever forgive her for this. “You’re… dead…” I managed to choke out through gritted teeth. My defiance shattered her last shred of sanity. “You fucking dare to threaten me?” she screamed, and brought the knife down to my mouth. “Let’s see you talk now!” A searing, numbing pain ripped across my lips. I couldn’t form another word. She raised the knife again, but froze as footsteps echoed from outside. “Boss? What are you doing here?” It was Alex. Alex was here! I tried to push myself up, but a fresh wave of agony shot through my leg as Veronica slammed the crowbar into the back of my knee, and I collapsed. Rose’s face went white. “Hide her! If the boss sees this, he’ll lose it. Quick!” Veronica and two of the goons dragged me into the adjacent kitchen, sliding the frosted glass door shut just as Alex stepped into the main room. “Rose, I thought I told you to get this place ready. Where are the furnishings?” Alex’s voice was crisp, businesslike. “We just got here, boss. Everything’s still in the truck. I’ll have the boys bring it in now.” Rose herded the remaining goons out of the villa, leaving Alex alone to inspect his work. “Hmm, the renovations turned out well,” he mused to himself. “She’s going to love it.” He turned. “Is this the kitchen?” He was walking toward the door. Through the frosted glass, I could see his silhouette, a dark, powerful shape. Tears streamed from my eyes. Alex, please, get in here. Save me. The door slid open. His eyes fell first on Veronica, hiding in the corner, then on me, a bloody, bound heap on the floor. His face changed instantly. “Veronica? What are you doing here?” Then, his gaze fixed on me, his brow furrowed in disgust and confusion. “Who is she? Why is she covered in blood?” Alex, it’s me! Look at me! I was bound, unable to move, but I began to squirm on the floor, trying to drag myself toward him. Veronica kicked me in the face. “Stay down, you bitch!” The blow sent stars dancing in my vision, but I forced out a desperate, broken sound. “A… lex…” Enraged, she kicked my mouth again. “How dare you call him that in front of me!” But he had heard me. Alex’s entire body went rigid. He crouched down, his eyes scanning my mangled face, trying to see past the blood and swelling. Before he could recognize me, Veronica spoke, her voice suddenly trembling and fragile. “Darling, you don’t have to say it. I know who she is. She’s the canary you’ve been keeping overseas, isn’t she?” She gestured around the room. “And this villa… it’s for her. I shouldn’t have been upset. A man as successful as you… it’s only natural you’d have a secret little nest.” Her eyes welled with tears, her voice cracking with practiced sorrow. “I just wanted to see her. To understand what makes her so special, what makes you love her so much. I thought… I thought maybe I could learn from her. Be more like her. Then maybe you would love me a little more, too…” Her choked sobs seemed to move him. He stood and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said softly. “I told you, you’re the only one for me. Why else would I be marrying you?” He sighed. “This house is for my sister. Chloe. She’s coming home tomorrow, remember? I wanted it to be a surprise, so I didn’t tell anyone. You misunderstood.” He held Veronica at arm’s length. “But you still haven’t told me who this is. I don’t keep canaries, Veronica.” A look of dawning horror crossed Veronica’s face as the pieces clicked into place. She was white as a sheet. “She… she’s just some bitch who crossed me. Rose and I were… teaching her a lesson.” Alex frowned. “She crossed you? Then she deserves a lesson. But why would you bring her into my sister’s house? That’s bad luck. This place is tainted with blood before she’s even spent a night in it. It’s a bad omen.” His stern tone made Veronica tremble. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll have my men drag her out and… clean up. And I’ll personally apologize to Chloe tomorrow. She won’t hold it against me, right, darling?” Alex’s expression softened into a fond smile. “Chloe has a good heart. She won’t blame you.” Two of the goons moved to lift me. My mind screamed in panic. Veronica’s idea of “cleaning up” was to silence me permanently. She couldn’t be sure if I was Chloe or not, but she couldn’t afford to take the chance. I thrashed violently, trying to break free, and earned another slap for my efforts. “Take this bitch out and finish it!” Veronica snapped. Just then, Rose re-entered the kitchen, holding something. Seeing the tense atmosphere, she immediately tried to curry favor with Alex. “Boss, don’t be angry. We didn’t want to get blood on the floor, but this little bitch wouldn’t back down. She kept insisting she was your sister…”

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1 For five years, my husband, the billionaire Joshua Archer, treated me like a goddess. He’d kneel to paint my toenails, wept as he offered me his own kidney after a car crash—he cherished me, his queen. But as his mistress, a woman I didn’t recognize, had me bound like an animal and kicked me across the manicured lawn of a country club, he didn’t see me. Instead, he stood beside her, clapping his hands in delight. “Go on, darling, give it a good swing! Using a pregnant woman as a golf ball… imagine the follow-through on that! It must be exhilarating!” I screamed, a raw, ragged sound of agony, crying out for my husband, for my mother. But my mother, who was also there, simply wrinkled her nose in disgust and shoved a silk handkerchief from her purse into my mouth, silencing me. And my husband? He snatched the golf club from the other woman’s hands and swung it, hard, into my swollen belly. As I lay dying on the grass, the mistress ripped off her mask. “Sister,” she purred, “how do you like your birthday gift?” Cold sweat mingled with bright red blood, dripping onto the pristine green. I forced my eyes open, staring, just staring, at the man before me. An hour ago, he had washed the scent of another woman from his skin and knelt by our bed, whispering, “Thank you for your love, my queen,” his eyes glazed with sated desire. Now, he watched with cold amusement as his mistress tortured me. The nylon ropes had already chafed my wrists and ankles raw. The slender metal of the golf club struck my body again and again, each blow leaving a bloody welt, until I felt like my bones were being pulled from their sockets. Every cell in my body screamed in pain. “That poor woman must’ve crossed the wrong people,” a voice murmured from the clubhouse patio. “Mrs. Archer seems to be in a foul mood today. Looks like it’ll be two for the price of one…” “Anyone who gets into this club is someone important. Who’s the man who brought her here?” The whispers of the onlookers were laced with a cold detachment, a desire not to get involved. But none of them knew. The man who had just swung at me with the most vicious force, the man who was treating my body like a game… He was my husband. Today was my birthday. Joshua had cleared his entire schedule to be with me. Then a call came through—a major client had arrived, and he had to go. He’d spent half an hour kissing me, apologizing, and whispering sweet promises before he left. When I found his phone on the nightstand, I didn’t bother calling his assistant. I just grabbed it and drove to the club myself. The moment I stepped inside, a woman in a mask, her face vaguely familiar, intercepted me. Before I could process what was happening, her men seized me. I fought back, screaming that I was Mrs. Archer, Joshua Archer’s wife. Her eyes glinted with a cruel light as she ordered her men to bind me into a ball and roll me onto the putting green. Her voice was a low, mocking laugh. “What a coincidence. I’m Mrs. Archer, too. And since I’m standing right here, what does that make you? A liar?” The women behind her sneered. “Everyone knows Joshua Archer worships his wife. I swear, every woman in this city wants to be the next Mrs. Archer. This one clearly doesn’t have what it takes, but she’s certainly got the delusion down.” The masked woman used the toe of her designer shoe to stop my spinning body. Her smile was pure venom. “Let’s make a little wager. If Joshua recognizes you, I’ll let you go. If he doesn’t… you’re all mine.” I was certain. The moment he saw me, he would know. But that certainty evaporated into thin air when I saw him walk onto the green and press a tender kiss to her forehead. “Darling,” she said, her voice cloying sweet, “this woman’s belly is so big and round. It’s the perfect golf ball. Let me practice my swing.” “Of course, my love. Whatever Mrs. Archer wants, Mrs. Archer gets.” He tweaked her nose with a fondness I knew so well. It felt like a nightmare. He hadn’t recognized me. He hadn’t even truly looked at me. His world was completely filled by her. If she was Mrs. Archer, then what was I? What were our years of whispered secrets and shared dreams? What was the child growing inside me? My chest felt like it would explode. An icy dread, sharp as needles, crept up from the soles of my feet. I swallowed the blood pooling in my throat and, clinging to one last, desperate shred of hope, I forced out a single word. “Jo…shua!” He glanced over. For a heart-stopping second, I thought he saw me. But then he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Is this woman insane? Calling any man she sees ‘honey’? The desperation is pathetic.” He gestured to the woman beside him. “See this? The only woman in the world who gets to call me her husband is her. What the hell are you? You’re not worthy.” A vicious kick followed his words, landing squarely on my stomach. The world exploded in a starburst of white-hot pain, and a wave of cold sweat drenched my body. 2 I gasped for air, staring at him in utter disbelief. Just last night, he had rested his head on my pregnant belly, his laughter warm against my skin. “My love,” he’d whispered, “whether it’s a boy or a girl, you and our child are the center of my universe…” Just this morning, he’d kissed me until I was breathless, making me say his name a hundred times before he’d let me out of bed. But now, holding another woman’s hand, he was sneering that I wasn’t worthy. Of course. The treasure, the goddess, the center of his universe—it was all fake. The only things that were real were the lies. And the affair. The golf club in his hand came down on me again and again. My stomach slammed against the hard ground, and a gush of amniotic fluid and blood soaked the grass beneath me. I was no longer a person; I was just a human ball, rolling back and forth until I was completely covered in my own blood. Through a hazy, red-tinged fog, I saw my mother approaching, holding a coat, speaking softly to the other woman. A desperate need for rescue drowned out all reason. I choked out a cry. “Mom… help me! Mom!” The masked woman didn’t stop me. A strange, knowing smile played on her lips. My mother glanced at me, clutching her nose as if offended by the smell. “My eldest daughter, Seraphina, is resting comfortably at home,” she said, her voice cold. “And my youngest is right here beside me. You are neither. Stop your disgusting squawking, you filthy sow… it’s utterly deafening.” A bolt of lightning shot through my head, feeling as if my brain had just imploded. The next second, a scented handkerchief was brutally shoved into my mouth, choking off my cries, leaving me to make only muffled, guttural sounds. My heart seized. An immense, crushing wave of grief and pain threatened to shatter me completely. Just a few days ago, when I’d had a scare with some abdominal pain, she had sat by my bedside for twenty-four hours straight, sleepless. She’d been frantic, babbling incoherently as she prayed to every saint in the book, bargaining with God for my health and the baby’s. She’d even gone to a shrine and knelt until her forehead was bruised, all for us. The scab on her forehead hadn’t even fully healed. How could she… how could she not recognize me? I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. Tears streamed down my face. I choked back a sob, my throat raw, and screamed against the gag, a silent, desperate plea. Mom! Look at me! Please, just look closer! It’s me, Elara! Your daughter, the one you raised for over twenty years! But she didn’t give me a second glance. She was the one who had silenced my pleas for help. And now she was standing there, laughing and talking intimately with my executioner. The air was thick with the jeering laughter of the onlookers. A tearing, violent pain ripped through my lower abdomen, a heavy, pulling agony. My mind went blank, and through the haze, I thought I could hear the sound of a baby’s heart-wrenching cries from within me. My baby. I have to save my baby. With the last of my strength, I fixed my cloudy eyes on the man standing nearby. I forced his name through my bruised lips. “Jo… sh… ua!” He paused, turning to look at me. His voice was as soft as a lover’s whisper, but the words were the cruelest I had ever heard. “Get rid of this sow. The way she looks at me… it’s disgusting. She’s actually trying to seduce me.” Just before he left the house, he’d whispered in my ear, “My love, do you know why I love you so much? I can’t stand a single second without you. I miss you already.” He didn’t miss me. He wanted me dead. The last flicker of hope inside me trembled and died. Just as my world dissolved into gray ash, the woman leaned in close and ripped off her mask. “Sister,” she whispered, “how do you like your birthday gift?” I was dragged away like a sack of garbage and dumped outside the club gates. A kind passerby saw my state—a pregnant woman, beaten and bloody—and rushed me to the hospital. He pulled the handkerchief from my mouth. “Miss! Who did this to you? Where’s your family? Your husband?” My lips trembled. My mouth was filled with blood. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t tell him. The man who beat me was the husband who swore he loved me more than life itself. The people who orchestrated my demise were the family I had lived with for over twenty years. The emergency room doctors saw my near-dead state and rushed me straight into surgery, shouting, “Pregnant woman, massive hemorrhage, needs type B-negative blood, now!” “We’re out of B-negative in the blood bank!” a young nurse called back, her face pale. The door swung open. A familiar figure stepped inside. “I’ll give her blood,” he said. “I’m B-negative.” I trembled, forcing my eyes open. It was my father, in his white doctor’s coat. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. 3 My father had to recognize me! He was giving me his blood! Just last night, he had driven through a thunderstorm to bring me my birthday present. He’d told me he’d gone to a remote monastery, a place of pilgrimage, and had a silver locket blessed by a reclusive monk, a charm to keep me and the baby safe. His face had been slick with rain, his brow etched with exhaustion, but his eyes, full of love, had been brighter than I’d ever seen them. My lips quivered as I managed a single, broken word. “Dad…” His gaze, sharp and cold behind his glasses, met mine. “Who are you calling Dad? I have two daughters. My eldest is at home celebrating her birthday, and my youngest is at the golf club. Don’t just call any man you see ‘Dad.’ It’s pathetic.” My mouth hung open. I was a clown in a tragedy of my own making. His words were a lightning strike that vaporized my entire world, turning my flesh and blood to ash. He… he didn’t recognize me either? Was it all a lie? All the years of affection, the whispered endearments of “my sweet girl,” “my darling Elara”… was all of it fake? My heart twisted in agony. I wanted to scream. Dad, save me. Save my baby. It’s your grandchild. But his next sentence plunged me straight into the ninth circle of hell. “My son-in-law just called. Seraphina’s old heart palpitations are acting up again…” He looked down at me, his face a clinical mask.

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Five years ago, I walked out on Ethan Hayes. His career was just taking off, and I left him. Turned around and married an old man. Five years later, at a college reunion, Ethan’s a success story, and I’m… well, I’m a mess. Later, in the semi-darkness of a rooftop, he asked me, his voice rough, “Leaving me like that… you happy now, Ava?” 1. I was rushing to the hospital, practically sprinting, when I slammed right into someone. The papers he was holding scattered everywhere. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” I dropped down to help him gather the files, and the ugly bruises and cuts on my hands were suddenly right there, under the harsh fluorescent light. “Ava?” Ethan’s voice was hesitant, testing the name. He grabbed my hand gently. “What happened to your hand?” My fingers froze on a stray document. That voice… so familiar. It was the first time I’d seen him in five years. Never thought it would be like this. “No, I… you’ve got the wrong person.” I snatched my hand back, my instinct screaming to run, but he caught me, pulling me into a hug. His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. “I’d never mistake you. You’re Ava!” “Ouch…” I hissed, sucking in a breath. He was holding me tight, and the hidden injuries on my body throbbed in protest. He pulled back immediately, his eyes scanning me, finally noticing the other marks, the ones peeking out from my sleeve. “Ava, what happened to you? The cuts… I need to get you to the ER.” Ethan took me to the hospital and stayed with me the whole time. The nurse who treated my cuts was an older woman, kind but blunt. “Honey, we need to get an X-ray of this arm, make sure nothing’s broken. And that burn on your hand – keep it dry, okay?” She looked pointedly at Ethan, her expression shifting to disapproval and suspicion. “You know, young man, you look like such a nice, respectable guy. I wouldn’t have figured you for someone who gets rough like this.” Ethan just stared at me, looking completely bewildered. I saw the nurse’s judging eyes and knew what she was thinking. I quickly jumped in. “Oh, no, you misunderstand. He didn’t do this.” “Sweetie,” she said, lowering her voice slightly, “domestic abuse is illegal. You don’t have to be scared. We have resources, people who can help. Do you want me to call the police for you?” I shook my head quickly. “No, really. Thank you for your concern, though.” The nurse sighed, a flicker of frustration in her eyes, but she didn’t push. “Okay, well… let’s get you over to radiology for that X-ray.” After the X-ray confirmed no broken bones, just deep bruising and the nasty burn, Ethan led me outside to a small hospital garden. He lit a cigarette, took a long, deep drag, and exhaled slowly, the smoke mingling with the scent of antiseptic and damp earth. The air crackled with unspoken questions. He finished the cigarette, stubbed it out, but still seemed wound tight, his eyes bloodshot as he finally looked at me. “Ava Miller. Aren’t you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” I didn’t answer, just looked at him, my expression carefully neutral. I’d honestly thought I’d never see Ethan Hayes again. “You didn’t used to smoke,” I said quietly. “Ava, do you even have a heart?” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “You disappeared without a word back then… was this the life you left me for?” He grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight, desperation and a deep, aching sadness swimming in his eyes. “It’s getting late,” I said, pulling away gently. “I should go home. Thanks for… for today. Take care of yourself, Ethan.” Without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked away, not looking back. Ethan and I met in college. I was a freshman; he was a senior assigned to help orient the new students. I was instantly drawn to him. It took all my courage, but I got his number and started messaging him constantly, checking in, asking how he was, finding excuses to bump into him, making sure he noticed me. Eventually, I confessed how I felt, and to my shock and delight, he said yes. My roommates always teased me, saying I landed the campus heartthrob through sheer shameless persistence… I could see it in his eyes today – Ethan still had feelings for me. But me? I’d fallen so far, dragged myself through hell. How could I possibly deserve someone like him now? 2 When I got back to the house, Arthur Morgan was sitting on the sofa, a dark, thunderous look on his face. “Where have you been?” “Just picking up some medication from the pharmacy,” I lied, trying to edge past him toward the bedroom. But Arthur was in a mood, maybe suspicious, maybe just needing an outlet. He shot up and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Who told you you could go to a hospital?” His voice was low, menacing. “Were you trying to tell everyone what I do to you?” I clawed at his hand, my voice trembling. “No! You’ve misunderstood. I didn’t say anything. Arthur, please, let go.” He shoved me away, and I stumbled, catching myself on the wall. He dusted off his hands as if he’d touched something dirty. “You wouldn’t dare!” With that parting shot, Arthur grabbed his keys and left. I slid down the wall until I was huddled on the floor, tears finally breaking free, silent drops tracing paths down my cheeks… A few days later, my phone rang. It was Chloe, an old college friend. “Ava? It’s Chloe! Hey, there’s a reunion happening next weekend. Are you gonna come?” My first instinct was to say no, absolutely not. But before I could get the word out, Chloe rushed on. “Ava, seriously, you just vanished sophomore year. I finally tracked down your number. Please come? I really want to see you.” My hand tightened on the phone. Chloe had been my best friend back then. When my family situation imploded, I never even got to say a proper goodbye. After a moment’s hesitation, I gave in. “Okay. Yeah, okay. Text me the details.” The reunion was at some downtown bar with karaoke rooms. When I walked in, the place was already packed. Chloe spotted me immediately and threw her arms around me. “Ava! You actually came! Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much!” I found a seat on a couch, trying to fade into the background. These kinds of gatherings weren’t my scene anymore. Too much pressure, too much pretending. College reunions are mostly about comparing lives, seeing who’s climbed higher. A woman I vaguely recognized, wearing a very flashy outfit, suddenly turned her attention to me. “Ava Miller… I remember you dropped out sophomore year, right? What are you doing now?” “I’m not working,” I mumbled. “Just… at home.” Chloe looked at me, surprised. “Ava, you… are you married?” I nodded stiffly. Someone else chimed in. “Wait, Ava, weren’t you dating Ethan Hayes back then? The law student?” “Yeah!” another voice added. “You probably haven’t heard, Ava, but Ethan’s huge now. Like, one of the top lawyers in the state. Super successful.” I forced a small, tight smile. “That was a long time ago.” Crash! Someone dropped a glass. I didn’t look up, just kept my eyes fixed on my lap. Then a tall shadow fell over me, blocking the dim light. 3 Someone dropped a glass. I didn’t look up, just kept my eyes fixed on my lap. Then a tall shadow fell over me, blocking the dim light. I glanced up, and before I could react, a hand grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet. He dragged me out of the noisy room, through the bar, and into the cool night air. Only then did I see clearly – it was Ethan. I struggled against his grip. “Ethan, let go of me!” He ignored me, his jaw tight, pulling me toward the building’s service elevator. He didn’t stop until we were on the rooftop terrace, the city lights spread out below us. Only then did he release my arm. “So,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “The bruises, the cuts… it’s your husband, isn’t it?” I nodded slowly. There didn’t seem to be any point in lying anymore. “When did you get married?” “Five years ago.” Ethan’s handsome face hardened, the lines around his mouth deepening. It had been exactly five years since I’d broken up with him. He laughed, a short, bitter sound devoid of any humor. “So, you broke up with me and immediately turned around and married someone else?” His voice rose, laced with pain and disbelief. “Ava! Did you ever even love me?” I remained silent. Of course, I loved Ethan. I’d never stopped. But saying it now felt pointless, irrelevant. Ethan walked to the edge of the rooftop, looking down at the streams of headlights on the street below. He lit another cigarette, smoked it down to the filter in tense silence, then spoke without turning around. “Ava… haven’t you ever thought about leaving him? Getting a divorce?” His voice was softer now, laced with confusion. “He treats you like this… why are you still with him?” I managed a wry, humorless smile. Divorce? If only it were that easy. I’d tried more than once. None of them stuck. I shook my head, refusing to answer. Ethan’s frustration flared, and he turned and stalked back towards the elevator, leaving me alone on the roof. After a few minutes, I went back down, exchanged numbers with Chloe, and left too. On the way home, Chloe texted me. Hey, btw, Ethan actually gave me your number. He asked me to invite you. I had no idea you were married. I typed back: I figured. I turned off my phone after that. It wasn’t a huge leap. Chloe suddenly finding my number just days after I’d run into Ethan? She never had it before. Truthfully? I think I agreed to come tonight because I wanted to see him again, too. 4 It was past midnight when I finally got home. As I switched on the lights, my heart leaped into my throat. Arthur was sitting on the sofa in the dark, his eyes fixed on me with a chilling intensity. I flinched, then forced myself to sound calm. “Arthur? Why are you sitting in the dark?” “Why are you back so late?” His tone was flat, dangerously calm, which was always worse than yelling. Warning bells screamed in my head. I opened my mouth to explain, but it was too late. Arthur stood up and walked towards me. The stench of alcohol hit me like a wave; he was clearly drunk. I instinctively took a step back, which only seemed to enrage him. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron, and slapped me hard across the face. The force snapped my head back. “You shameless tramp!” he snarled, his face inches from mine. “Who were you out screwing around with?” I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “Arthur, please, calm down. Let me go.” But reasoning with him when he was drunk was impossible. He started hitting me again, landing blows on my arms and shoulders. Maybe it was the alcohol making him clumsy, or maybe it was pure adrenaline, but I managed to shove him hard. He stumbled backward, lost his balance, and crashed to the floor. I didn’t hesitate. I turned and ran, bolting out the front door, not even stopping to grab my shoes or purse. I’d just reached the edge of the condo complex, gasping for breath, when a sleek black Bentley pulled up silently beside me. The tinted window slid down, and Ethan’s sharp profile came into view. His expression was grim. “Get in.” My first instinct was to refuse, but he cut me off, his voice low and urgent. “Unless you want your picture plastered all over the gossip sites looking like this tomorrow morning, get in the car, Ava.” I looked down at myself – barefoot, wearing only a thin dress, no phone, no wallet. I really had nowhere else to go. I climbed into the passenger seat. The leather was cool against my skin. Ethan immediately leaned over, his arm brushing mine as he clicked my seatbelt into place. His proximity was overwhelming. “He hit you again?” His voice was tight. I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. “Just… take me somewhere. Anywhere.” The drive was silent, the tension thick enough to cut. Ethan drove to an upscale apartment building across town, pulling into the secure underground garage. He parked, and I reached for the door handle, but his voice stopped me. “Wait.” I looked at him, confused. He got out, walked around to my side, and opened the door. Before I could react, he scooped me up into his arms. “You don’t have shoes on,” he said gruffly. “Don’t walk on this dirty floor.” “Thanks…” The word came out as a choked whisper. I suddenly felt tears welling up. It had been so long since anyone had shown me even the smallest kindness. I leaned my head against his chest, inhaling the faint, familiar scent of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. For the first time in years, I felt a flicker of safety. “How did you… how did you know where I was?” I asked softly as he carried me towards the elevator. “I said I was just passing by, right? Would you believe that?” I shook my head slightly against his shoulder. Of course, I didn’t. My neighborhood was nowhere near his usual routes. Ethan sighed, a heavy sound. “I followed you home from the reunion. I needed to know where you were living.” He carried me into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind us, and gently set me down on a plush sofa. “This is my place. You can stay here tonight.” He added quickly, “Don’t worry, I live alone. It’s no trouble.” “Okay. Thank you, Ethan.” 5 Ethan brought me a glass of water, then retrieved a first-aid kit from the bathroom. He knelt in front of me and gently started cleaning the cut on my cheek. “Ava,” he said softly, his eyes meeting mine, “divorce him. He doesn’t deserve you.” I was silent for a long time. Finally, I looked at him. “Ethan… are you any good at divorce cases?” His eyes, which had been shadowed with concern, instantly lit up with a fierce determination. “Ava. For you? I can do anything.” He hesitated, then asked gently, “If… if you’re comfortable, can you tell me what happened? How did you end up with him?” So, I told him. “My parents… they ran a business, you remember? My sophomore year, they were on the verge of bankruptcy. Arthur Morgan—that’s my husband—he offered my dad a bailout, a huge sum of money. But there was a condition.” I took a shaky breath. “He wanted me to marry him.” “My dad pulled me out of school immediately. Pressured me, guilted me… until I agreed. After the wedding… Arthur started hitting me. Regularly.” Talking about it felt like ripping open a barely healed wound, raw and agonizing. “Arthur Morgan? Of Morgan Construction?” Ethan asked, his voice tight with disbelief. His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the first-aid kit. “Yes. He’s twenty-five years older than me. I didn’t want to marry him, I fought it, but my parents… they threatened drastic things, laid on the guilt thick.” “After we were married, I tried to leave, tried to file for divorce. Each time, Arthur would just get worse. He’d beat me, then threaten me. I called the police once, but he produced some kind of doctored medical report from a shady clinic, claiming I had mental health issues, that my injuries were self-inflicted. My parents backed him up.” My voice broke. “I tried to find a lawyer to take my case for divorce court, but no one would touch it. Arthur has too many connections, too much influence.” When I finished, Ethan covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking. Broken sobs escaped him. “I’m so sorry, Ava. I’m so, so sorry. If I’d just paid more attention back then, if I’d reached out after you left… maybe you wouldn’t have gone through all this hell.” I reached out and put a hand on his arm, then impulsively leaned forward and hugged him, resting my head on his shoulder. “Ethan, it’s not your fault. How could you have known? You were just starting your career, working crazy hours.” “I’m such an idiot!” he choked out, pulling back slightly to look at me, his eyes filled with self-reproach. “When you broke things off, I was too proud, too arrogant to demand answers. If I’d just come after you, found out what was really going on…” He buried his face in his hands again, crying like a lost child. I tried to comfort him, but he was lost in his guilt. Finally, I sighed, feeling utterly drained. “Ethan, I’m exhausted. I need to sleep.” “Right. Okay. Let me get the guest room ready for you. Wait here.” I watched him go, his back straight but radiating tension. A wave of uncertainty washed over me. Was telling him everything the right thing to do? He returned quickly, scooped me up again, and carried me into a spare bedroom, placing me gently on the bed. “Wait here,” he said again. “Let me get some warm water. For your feet. They must be freezing.” He came back moments later with a basin of warm water. He rolled up his sleeves and knelt down. I instinctively pulled my feet back. “Ethan, no, you don’t have to. I can do it.” He just gave me a look, then gently took my feet and placed them in the warm water. “Is the temperature okay?” I nodded, biting my lip. “Ethan… why are you being so nice to me?” “My Ava deserves this,” he said softly, his voice thick. He washed my feet carefully, meticulously, as if handling priceless artifacts. My eyes stung. Ava Miller… what did I ever do to deserve a man like Ethan Hayes? After drying my feet, he went to his closet and pulled out a crisp white button-down shirt. He handed it to me, his ears turning slightly red. “You can’t sleep comfortably in that dress. Wear this for tonight. I’ll get you some proper clothes tomorrow.” Seeing his slight awkwardness made me smile faintly. “Ethan,” I asked, suddenly curious, “have you… have you dated anyone? These past five years?” The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself. What right did I have to ask, me, a married woman trapped in a nightmare? “No,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “All these years… I never forgot you, Ava.” The raw honesty in his voice hung in the air. He dropped the shirt onto the bed beside me and quickly left the room. The large bedroom felt quiet, almost too quiet, but for the first time in five years, lying there in the dark, I felt a profound sense of peace. In Arthur’s house, I hadn’t had a single night of truly restful sleep.

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Today is Christmas, and it’s also Peter’s and my wedding anniversary. To make sure Peter got a special dinner, I went out to buy groceries. But what I never expected was that while I was out, I’d get mugged and pushed to the ground, and my husband? He was busy helping his assistant put up Christmas decorations. Weakly, I listened to the voices on the other end of the phone. “Peter, look at this Christmas tree, does it look good here?” “So, do you prefer the fishnets or… I’ll wear them for you tonight~” I lay on the ground, my heart like dead ashes. Later, I decided I didn’t want him anymore. But then he was willing to get beaten to a pulp, just to kneel before me and beg for forgiveness. “Mug—” Before I could even get the word “mugging” out, a motorcycle roared past, snatching my bag. Then, a practiced hand shoved me backward. It all happened in an instant; my body, caught off guard, was violently pushed aside. As I fell, a sharp, intense pain shot through my abdomen. I cried out instinctively. When I opened my eyes, I saw I’d landed stomach-first against the edge of a roadside planter. My heart sank. A wave of pain washed over me, and I couldn’t stop shaking. At that moment, I couldn’t even care about my stolen purse. “My baby… my baby…” I gasped, clutching my stomach, my other hand fumbling for my phone. Without even looking, I dialed Peter. Beep… beep… After an agonizing silence, the call connected. Peter’s voice, distracted and indifferent, came through. “What is it? I’m swamped at work. If it’s important, spit it out!” “Peter… I…” The pain was so bad I could barely speak; my voice was pathetically weak. But he clearly wasn’t paying attention. I heard the conversation on his end. It was quiet where he was, so the voices came through with an unnerving clarity. A woman’s voice, lively and playful, suddenly piped up. “Peter, look at this Christmas tree, does it look good here?” Sweat beaded on my forehead from the pain. Hearing that voice, I froze. My heart sank further, a terrible premonition washing over me. Sure enough, Peter replied a moment later. “Looks great. Anything you arrange looks good. I like it all.” The girl on the other end sounded pleased, then lowered her voice. “So, do you prefer the fishnets or… I’ll wear them for you tonight~” Hearing that, lying there on the ground, I couldn’t believe it. Tears streamed down my face. I never thought Peter could lie so easily. Just then, another searing pain shot through my abdomen. I couldn’t help but moan, gasping for breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “Peter, listen to me, I was just mugged—” “Grace, can you just stop making trouble! Pulling this kind of stunt in broad daylight, trying to be all seductive!” My cry of pain finally got Peter’s attention, but he was completely dismissive. Before I could respond, amidst the continued flirtatious conversation on his end, the call was abruptly disconnected. At that moment, passersby finally noticed me. They rushed over, helped me up, and called an ambulance. In my last moments of consciousness, I wondered what I had done wrong to be treated like this by Peter. I even wondered if I hadn’t been good enough. But then, recalling how I’d poured my heart and soul into our relationship over the years, I finally understood: it wasn’t my fault. It was because Peter himself was just a rotten person. I had just been unlucky, misjudged his character. When I opened my eyes again, the smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils. The beeping of machines surrounded me. It took me a moment to realize I was in the hospital. “Ms. Chen, you’re awake.” Only then did I notice someone standing by my bed. The doctor looked at me, hesitating for a long moment before speaking carefully. “I’m very sorry to tell you, Ms. Chen, but because the baby was too small and due to the external impact, it… you miscarried.” Hearing her words, I closed my eyes, tears silently streaming down my face. I couldn’t say a word. I took out my phone and checked the time. It was already evening, and Peter hadn’t sent me any messages. I knew he hadn’t come home; otherwise, he would have noticed I wasn’t there and called to hurry me back to make dinner. At that moment, I felt I should tell him about losing the baby. So, I called him again. The phone rang for a long time before he answered. Along with his voice came the sound of Peter’s heavy breathing. I froze. “…What do you want?” 2 I knew that sound all too well. I instantly understood what he was doing. My voice choked up again, and I repeated his name several times, each word like a drop of blood from my heart. “…Peter, Peter! Do you know where I am right now? The baby is… is already…” When I got to the part about the baby, the grief was overwhelming. I broke into sobs, unable to finish the sentence. “What is it now? Can you stop talking to me like some whiny nag? If it’s nothing important, I’m hanging up.” Peter was extremely impatient, complaining with a terrible attitude before hanging up the phone. “The baby’s gone.” Putting down the phone, I couldn’t hold back my emotions any longer and burst into tears, wailing. Peter and I met in college, fell in love, and spent our youngest years together. We’d been married for four years now. Right after graduation, I decisively took all the money my parents left me after they passed away and, without hesitation, helped him start his business. Peter had sworn to me, promised he would never let me down, that he would buy me a big house, and never forget the support I gave him when he was just starting out. During our poorest times, we ate nothing but cheap bread and pickles; we went months without meat. But now that our lives had improved, he had changed. My constitution wasn’t the type to get pregnant easily. We had tried many things over the years, all sorts of doctors, traditional and modern medicine, but there was never any news of a pregnancy. Peter had started to become more and more distant. Actually, I knew he was having some kind of affair with that assistant, Lauren. But every time I asked him seriously, Peter would adamantly deny it. Then, I unexpectedly got pregnant, and Peter changed back into the loving man he once was, constantly fussing over me. He would even drive miles out of his way to buy food from a specific little place I was craving. He’d pull me into his arms in the middle of the night when my hands and feet were cold. And as for holidays, big or small, the gifts had been non-stop since then. But later, conflicts arose again because his desires were strong, and my pregnancy couldn’t satisfy him. As the baby bump became slightly noticeable, he gradually grew indifferent again. Until today, the Christmas dinner for our anniversary, which we had planned, he completely forgot about it. It wasn’t just the dinner he didn’t care about; clearly, he didn’t care about me either. From the moment he started treating me coldly, I should have known: some people can only share hardship, not good fortune. I should have realized long ago that he was no good. During those poorest years, it probably wasn’t me he loved, but rather that I was the highest ‘class’ he could reach. Thinking this, my tears dried up, and I fell asleep. Who knew that the next day, I would be woken up by Peter. “Grace? So, you’re here! You just disappeared without a word! If it weren’t for phone tracking, I wouldn’t have known you came to the hospital!” I groggily opened my eyes and looked at Peter, his face etched with impatience. My heart died completely. I didn’t say a word. Only then did Peter seem to notice my pale face. He frowned and asked, “What are you doing at the hospital?” I looked at the face I had loved since I was young, but now I couldn’t find any trace of that old feeling. I could only answer in a hoarse voice. “Peter, the baby’s gone.” “…The baby’s gone?” As Peter voiced his confusion, his first reaction wasn’t concern for me, but an outright roar of anger. “Are you crazy, Grace?! Just because I didn’t answer your call and said a few things to you on the phone, you went and got an abortion?!” 3 “…What?” I gasped in shock, but Peter started ranting. “Are you that petty?! Just because of that, you didn’t want the baby anymore? What do you take me for? I never should have married you! Your dead parents spoiled you rotten!” Peter verbally abused me, and I couldn’t believe that the man I once loved so deeply would one day insult me so freely, even using my parents’ deaths to hurt me. “Peter, calm down.” Just then, a woman’s voice came from outside the door, identical to the one on the phone yesterday. It was Peter’s assistant, Lauren. I watched as she very naturally placed a fruit basket she’d casually bought on my bedside table, then spoke with a reproachful look. “Grace, it’s no wonder Peter’s so angry. What you did was really too reckless. How could you get an abortion so easily? Anyone would be angry.” I looked at her feigned concern and just wanted to vomit. My medical report was right there on the bedside table, but they didn’t even glance at it, just jumped to the conclusion that I’d had an abortion myself. “What on earth are you talking about?” Just then, my doctor came in. Since Peter had been yelling at me in the room with the door open for a while, a crowd of doctors and nurses had intermittently gathered around. “What ‘easily got an abortion’? Wasn’t it a miscarriage caused by external trauma?” My doctor frowned as she entered. She had seen me on the phone and crying yesterday, so she immediately had no patience for Peter. “What external trauma?! Is that what they call abortions these days, all professional-sounding?” Peter, seeing the doctor was hostile, visibly scowled. The doctor’s next words were even blunter. “If you don’t understand, can’t you ask? You’ve been in here indiscriminately yelling at my patient for ages. She lost her child, don’t you think she’s upset? External trauma means her abdomen was struck by a blunt object, causing the miscarriage.” As the doctor explained, both Peter and Lauren were stunned. Then Peter snapped back to reality and sneered. “Her abdomen just happened to be hit by a blunt object? There aren’t that many coincidences. Grace must have paid you a lot, right? You two are in cahoots, trying to clear her name after she deliberately had an abortion.” “You…!” The doctor had clearly never met someone so unreasonable. She glared at him. Seeing her speechless, Peter felt his suspicions were confirmed and turned to me. “Grace, you’ve wanted to leave me for a while, haven’t you?” Hearing his accusations, I met his eyes and immediately roared. “Peter! How can you say something so monstrous, that I deliberately aborted our child?! You ungrateful bastard! All I did for you was for nothing! I should have fed that money to the dogs!” Suddenly, my temper flared, and I started arguing fiercely with him. Peter seemed to have never seen me this angry before and yelled back just as loudly. “You’re blaming me?! You have the nerve to blame me! You venomous snake! You could even get rid of your own child! Is there anything you, Grace, wouldn’t do?!” I almost scoffed out loud, my demeanor not backing down an inch. “I’m a venomous snake? That’s still better than you abandoning your wife and cheating!” At these words, Peter froze, and even Lauren looked momentarily stunned. “Who are you calling a cheater?! It’s probably you who cheated and are trying to frame me!” Peter, of course, denied it. He even got angry, as if I’d stepped on his tail, not even waiting for my response. “And stop fucking arguing with me, Grace! You just want a divorce, don’t you?! Fine, let’s get a divorce!” Hearing him shout those two words, I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them, my resolve firm. “Fine by me!” “Everyone, calm down! Stop arguing!” Just then, our argument was abruptly interrupted by a voice. We looked towards the door, and two police officers entered the room. They looked at me, then took an evidence bag from their own bag and handed it over. “Ms. Chen, your stolen purse from yesterday has been found. The suspect has been apprehended and has confessed to snatching your bag and deliberately pushing you, which led to your hospitalization.” Silence fell. Peter was utterly stunned. I numbly took the bag. One of the officers then produced a stack of papers and addressed Peter. “You’re the victim’s husband, right? Please sign here to confirm.” Peter was dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected that I really had been mugged, and that I really had miscarried because I was pushed. He didn’t take the papers from the officer immediately but turned to me, his voice cracking in disbelief. “You… you really fell?!” Looking into Peter’s incredulous eyes, I repeated, word by word. “Di-vorce!” 4 This time, when I brought it up, Peter fell silent almost instantly. He seemed to suddenly realize what those two phone calls I made to him yesterday were really about. And in both those calls, all he’d shown me was impatience. Peter didn’t mention divorce again. Seeing I was still agitated, he even saw me about to pick up the fruit basket Lauren had brought and throw it at him. In a flash, his expression softened. “Grace, you… you just calm down first. Put the fruit basket down, cool off. I’ll give you some time alone.” Then, without waiting for my response, he reached out, took Lauren’s hand, and left. I watched his hand-holding gesture, so practiced and smooth, yet my heart felt surprisingly little. Perhaps he felt a moment of panic too, and acted on instinct. Afterward, the doctor and police also left, leaving me alone in the hospital room. I wasn’t actually that agitated, at least not hysterical. I was just annoyed by their shocked expressions. Now that it was quiet, I immediately took out my phone and made a call. “…Hello? Mark? Yes, it’s me. Listen, I wanted to ask you about some divorce matters.” … After calling my lawyer friend and explaining the situation, I asked him to help draft a divorce agreement. Just then, there was a knock on the door. I thought it was a nurse and said, “Come in.” Who knew it would be Peter. Peter looked awkwardly embarrassed, holding a takeout container. He hesitated for a long moment before speaking. “You haven’t eaten since this morning, right? This is a nutritious meal I prepared for you. At least eat something.” I didn’t respond. I watched him open the container himself. The moment I saw the food, I knew he hadn’t prepared this meal. Because on top was half a container of plain boiled shrimp, and I am severely allergic to shrimp. I found it utterly ridiculous and then asked, “Peter, you didn’t make these shrimp, did you?” Peter, caught in his lie, was suddenly. He seemed surprised I’d figured it out, then rubbed his nose. “Ah, Lauren made the shrimp. Yesterday when you called, I was with her at the office putting up holiday decorations, right? She feels bad about what happened. She knows you’re sick and can’t eat anything too greasy, so she hopes you’ll accept it.” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “Peter, even if she doesn’t know, don’t you know? I’m allergic to shrimp.” After hearing this, Peter actually picked up a shrimp and offered it to me. “Just try one. What’s one bite going to do? Just one taste. I tried it, it’s really good.” Looking at Peter, his voice full of smug pride, I thought about all the meals I had cooked for him that were never treated this way. A wave of nausea washed over me. I slapped his hand away and, without hesitation, knocked the food container over. “…Grace, are you insane?!” The soup splashed everywhere, drenching Peter. He couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer, his anger flaring up. This act of mine made our relationship deteriorate further. That day ended with another huge fight, and Peter stormed out, smashing things. And I didn’t see him again until I was discharged from the hospital. But he did post on his social media to provoke me: either eating at a fancy Western restaurant or at some all-you-can-eat Wagyu place. Of course, the woman with him was almost always Lauren. Though she wasn’t directly in the pictures, an occasional wrist with a tell-tale bracelet said a lot. And the most recent photo was a plate of braised shrimp. Peter had specifically taken a high-definition picture, then cryptically remarked that I didn’t appreciate good food and was too picky, missing out on so much joy. At that time, I had just returned home. Looking at the empty house, I couldn’t be bothered to think about where Peter was. Instead, I just packed my things, leaving only a divorce agreement on the coffee table. Then, without hesitation, I turned and left, not looking back.

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In 1983, Liam Reynolds came to live with us. He stood out among his peers, and my heart had already secretly fallen for him. But I had a pronounced limp, and my insecurity kept me from expressing my feelings. The year of my high school finals, Dad lost the use of his legs, and our family was struggling to put food on the table. My parents considered sending Liam away. Instead, Liam got down on his knees before them, begging for help to finish his education, promising to return and marry me once he’d succeeded. I was overjoyed. I willingly gave up my own studies, working odd jobs to earn money for his tuition, just waiting for him to graduate and marry me. I endured from eighteen to twenty-eight. First, he pursued his Master’s, then his Doctorate, and finally, he was going to study abroad. I wanted to see him one last time before he left, but instead, I saw him and Tiffany Chen acting intimately, laughing and talking. They had been married six years ago, sucking our family dry, spending our money, and now they were going to leave the country together. The truth hit me like a physical blow. Overcome with shock and rage, I collapsed in the street, my heart giving out. When I opened my eyes again, I heard Liam making promises to Dad. “Please don’t send me back! Just let me finish school! When I come back, I’ll marry Anya! We’ll take care of both of you for the rest of your lives!” I cut off Liam’s desperate plea. “Who wants you to marry them! You’re not the only one in this family who can study!” 1 Liam stared at me in surprise. I emphasized it again, louder. “Our family is barely getting by right now! Even when I’m resting, I’m out doing farm chores! How can you have the nerve to ask our whole family to pay for your education?” “And marry me? You didn’t even ask if I was willing!” Mom and Dad were also surprised by my attitude. In my past life, they had seen how deeply I felt about Liam. Liam’s family was poor, with twelve brothers. He was the ninth, and at home, they starved more often than not. Getting an education was a luxury. Our family also had the Lin surname, and I was their only child, with a limp. Liam’s parents had actively sought to have him adopted by our family. I was two years younger than Liam and always clung to him when we were little, but I knew he didn’t like me. At least, whenever we were alone, he always kept his distance. But as long as my parents were home, he would sweetly call me “Anya, my little sister.” From a young age, he knew how to charm my parents, eagerly volunteering for chores and farm work. When it was time to actually do them, he’d call me over for help. Then he’d quietly slip away and go wild playing with the other kids in the hills. I bore no resentment because I’d loved him since I was a child. But he used my love as a tool. His grades were already below mine, and after Dad injured his leg, our family fell into hard times. He didn’t think about helping out; instead, he pushed for our whole family to support his studies. I was foolish back then, voluntarily dropping out of school and giving up on my finals to go out and earn money. But with my limp and not even a high school diploma, what factory would hire me? I hobbled with my limp, carrying sandbags at construction sites, picking up discarded vegetables at the market, and gathering coal cinders for warmth and fire, all just to save a few pennies to send to him for his education. All of this, just for that one sentence he uttered: “When I’ve achieved success, I’ll marry Anya!” Over ten years, I’d lost my youthful figure. My parents also suffered greatly and passed away one after another. Liam didn’t even make it back for their funerals. The villagers laughed at me, and some even urged me to stop waiting. He returned three days after my parents were buried. His first words were: “Did your mom and dad leave you anything valuable? My expenses outside were high, and I’m out of money.” Foolishly, I pulled out the four hundred dollars we’d received as funeral gifts. He took the money and left. I didn’t even have time to ask, “Liam, when are you coming back to marry me?” I secretly went to the state capital to find him, only to discover he hadn’t even finished college. His Master’s, Doctorate, and study abroad were all lies he used to extract money from our family. Six years ago, he took the money and quietly married Tiffany Chen from our village. And the so-called “study abroad” was just an excuse for them to go overseas and make a fortune. Overcome with shock and rage, I collapsed in the street and died. In this life, I was going to make Liam Reynolds live my life. 2 “Anya, didn’t you… like me?” Liam Reynolds looked at me in disbelief. “I’m only 18! What do I know about liking or not liking anyone! Don’t you dare spread rumors! The most important thing right now is to get my dad’s leg treated!” In my previous life, my biggest regret was Dad’s leg. It could have been cured, but the untrained village medic messed it up. “Your dad’s leg… the village medic said it couldn’t be fixed.” I snapped at Liam: “Does what some quack says even count? Mom, Dad’s leg can’t wait; we have to go to a real hospital! I’m going to Mayor Thompson’s place right now to borrow his truck!” Mom and Dad hesitated. Ignoring Liam’s attempts to stop me, I rushed Dad to the big hospital. The treatment would cost nearly a thousand dollars, which our family absolutely couldn’t afford. Dad wanted to give up, but I comforted him. “Dad! If we don’t have enough money, I’ll borrow it. At worst, Liam and I can work for a year, and we can still take our finals next year.” Liam, feeling the spotlight on him, also chimed in: “That’s right, Mr. Lin! The doctor said if you rest well for a year, you’ll be just like anyone else. I’ll take care of all the farm work this year!” Mom wiped away tears of relief, praising us both as good kids. Mom stayed in the city to take care of Dad. Liam and I rushed back home. On the way back, Liam asked me: “Are you really going to borrow money? Really going to drop out to work?” “Not just me, it’s us! If you’re not willing to get through this tough time together, then go back to your own family!” Liam fell silent, not answering. His original family was a sore spot for him: a violent father, a silent mother, and a bunch of brothers who fought over food. Just like in my previous life, I went to school to discuss taking a leave of absence, but this time, I brought Liam with me. The teacher’s first reaction was to object. When he heard it was for my father’s treatment, he suggested organizing a fundraiser. In my previous life, Liam handled my leave of absence, and I actually missed out on this fundraiser. My father was always a kind man in our town. Even Mayor Thompson wanted to help our family out. Before long, we had collected over $800. After borrowing a little more from relatives, we wouldn’t even need to take a leave of absence. Helping out around town more often would also allow us to scrape by this year. I was about to call Liam to go to the hospital and deliver the money when I saw him with Tiffany Chen. “Liam! Why are you taking a leave of absence too?” “Anya, that girl, it’s like she’s a different person. If I quit now, I’ll definitely be sent home, and you know what my family’s situation is like.” “Oh, Liam, if my family had fewer brothers, or if you could’ve lived with us back then, you wouldn’t have had to suffer at Anya Lin’s house.” Tiffany sniffled and cried, and Liam tenderly pulled her into a hug. “How can I blame you? But I heard Anya’s doing a fundraiser, probably four or five hundred at least. I’ll steal the money then, and we can run away together.” I stared at the two of them, kissing, my hand gripping the money bag tightly. He knew exactly what that money was for… As soon as Liam got back, he asked me how much I’d collected. I happily told him: “A thousand! Not only is it enough for Dad’s medical bills, but it’s also enough for both of us to keep studying!” Liam eagerly spread his arms to hug me, but I recoiled in disgust. His arms hung in the air for a moment, then dropped heavily. “Anya, give me the money, I’ll take it to Uncle Lin!” “Give it to you? What’s wrong?” His impatience was truly ridiculous. I pointed out the window. “It’s already dark, how are you going to go?” Only then did he realize it was well past nightfall. “Then give me the money, I don’t feel safe with a young girl like you carrying it.” I pulled out a red cloth bundle from under my pillow. I’d sewn it myself, layer upon layer, at least seven or eight layers thick. “Be careful, don’t open it. I’ve sewn it all up tight!” His hand trembled as he took the money, muttering about going to the hospital first thing in the morning. Then he quietly slipped out of the house. 3 Liam Reynolds went straight to Tiffany Chen. Tiffany’s family had three older brothers; she was the only daughter. While not wealthy, her whole family valued her highly, dressing her in good clothes and providing her with nice things. The fact that they sent her to school showed her status in the household. “Are we leaving now?” “Yes! We’ll walk to town and catch the earliest train tomorrow! Didn’t you say you wanted to go to the beach? I’ll take you!” “Wait for me! I’ll pack some clothes!” “Why bother packing? I have money!” Liam rattled the red cloth bundle in his hand. The two of them kissed passionately by the door until a noise came from Tiffany’s house. They panicked and fled. I walked to the spot they had just left and picked up Tiffany’s red hair clip. Knock knock on Tiffany’s family door. “Who is it! So late at night!” It was Tiffany’s mom who opened the door. When she saw it was me, she looked impatient. “What now? I already donated money to your family! Are you here to borrow more? We don’t have any!” I put my hand on the door, preventing her from closing it, my expression anxious. “Auntie! I’m not here to borrow money! Liam’s missing! And all the money from the fundraiser is gone too!” “I found this hair clip in Liam’s room! Take a look, is it Tiffany’s!” There were only a few hair clips like this in the whole school. Tiffany’s mom snatched it, examined it repeatedly, then turned and rushed inside, frantically calling for Tiffany. The entire Chen household was roused. Tiffany’s mom rushed back to the door, asking me: “Anya, when did you say Liam went missing?” “About an hour ago.” Tiffany’s brothers started talking over each other. “That kid’s been too close to our Tiffany! I knew something wasn’t right!” “Stealing the donations? Did they run away together!” “What are we waiting for! Let’s go find them!” The Chen family was a prominent family in our town. In no time, lights went on all over the neighborhood. Mayor Thompson asked me what happened, and I sobbed uncontrollably. “Mayor! I gave all the money to my brother! And my brother ran off with it! Tiffany Chen is missing too, what am I going to do? My dad’s waiting for that money for his surgery!” With just a few words, I linked the money directly to them both. The Mayor tried to comfort me. “Don’t worry, don’t worry! How much did you collect in total?” “Including what the school gave and what I borrowed, it was over a thousand dollars.” A thousand dollars, in that era, was enough for a family to live on for a year! It was no small sum. “Found them! They’re at the edge of town! They were indeed trying to leave!” I hurried along with Tiffany’s mom. The two of them were surrounded. From their expressions, they didn’t know what was happening. Until Tiffany’s mom appeared, grabbing her daughter by the ear. “What are you doing here with this boy so late at night!” “Mom! Mom! We were just taking a walk!” “A walk? Then why were you running! We were calling you to run!” Tiffany’s brothers were panting. “We really were just taking a walk!” Both of them were still stubbornly denying it. I walked out from behind the crowd. Liam looked at me in surprise. “Liam, why did you run off with Dad’s life-saving money?” He looked flustered. “I didn’t run off! I was just taking a walk!” “You were taking a walk with Tiffany Chen so late at night? Do you like her?” Liam didn’t expect me to ask so directly, and he blurted out, “Yes.” Tiffany smiled with satisfaction, while her brothers glared unhappily at Liam. I continued to ask: “Then what did you mean a few days ago, when you proposed to my dad to marry me?” Liam was speechless for a moment, while Tiffany looked utterly shocked. After a long pause, Tiffany suddenly yelled: “Didn’t you say you loved me!” Tiffany’s mom slapped her hand over her mouth, stopping her from talking nonsense. She clearly didn’t think highly of Liam. I had no time for romantic dramas. I held out my hand: “Give me Dad’s life-saving money!” “What life-saving money? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I smiled. He thought he could get away with denial. I turned to Tiffany: “I refused his offer to live with us, and that’s why he came to you. You were just his backup.” Tiffany was still young and couldn’t handle such provocation. She pushed her mother’s hand away, pointing at Liam. “Who do you actually like! Why did you ask me to run away with you!” The word “run away” caused the nearby villagers to gasp collectively. 4 Tiffany Chen’s family immediately dragged her away, forbidding her from saying anything more. Liam Reynolds hadn’t expected Tiffany to be so useless in this situation. I held out my hand again. “Give me the money! If you didn’t have money, how would you dare to run away? That’s my dad’s life-saving money!” “What money! I don’t understand what you’re saying!” He was still being stubborn. I immediately began to sob, recounting all the good things Dad had done for him. Some of the villagers couldn’t stand it and stepped forward to search him. “If you really didn’t take it, let a few of us search you. This isn’t a small sum.” He couldn’t resist and was held down by the crowd. They searched him repeatedly. And found nothing. Liam mumbled as he put on his jacket. “I don’t know what money you’re talking about! You probably lost it yourself and want to blame it on me!” “I do like Tiffany Chen, and I’m just dating her. We’re both adults, dating is perfectly normal!” At this point, the villagers all looked at me, and I could see a sly smile on Liam’s lips. “Fine! Liam Reynolds, you clearly took the money! I wrapped that money in red cloth seven or eight layers thick, and the cloth I borrowed from Mayor Thompson! Do you dare to swear on it?” Liam froze for half a second. He didn’t swear, but he continued to deny it. I knelt on the ground, bowing my head deeply several times to the crowd. “I’ve troubled you all recently, and I ask all you villagers to bear witness! This Liam Reynolds refuses to admit he stole the money! This money is crucial for my father’s life! I have no desire to be related to such an ungrateful parasite any longer! From today onwards, Liam Reynolds is not allowed to enter my house! My family will have no further ties with Liam Reynolds!” Every word I spoke was filled with grief, and I bowed my head several more times, hard enough to draw blood from my forehead. The villagers rushed forward to help me up. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding! Do you really have to be so absolute?” I pointed at Liam, my forehead still bearing a blood mark, my voice firm: “This is my dad’s life-saving money! If you don’t return it to me, you will never set foot in my house again!” I bowed to each villager who had donated to my dad, thanking them. Liam stood by, silent. Only after everyone had left did Liam speak. “Are you really going to kick me out?” I extended my hand again. “Give me the money! This is my last chance for you!” He smiled and shrugged. It was the same in this life as in the last: always a self-serving opportunist. “Don’t blame me! A thousand dollars is enough for four years of tuition! I can get away from that family, I can start my own life.” As expected, he never intended to return the money. “Anya, I’ve noticed you’re different from before, but you’re still not smart enough. You came looking for me so openly, did you think I wouldn’t be prepared?” He lifted his chin, his posture like a victor. “I know your family took me in back then because they wanted me to marry into your family. To put it nicely, you have a limp. To put it harshly, you’re disabled. I truly don’t like you~” He spoke cutting words, completely disregarding my feelings, then slowly walked to a tree and pulled out a red cloth bundle from behind it. He triumphantly waved it at me. “You want this, right?” I frowned, and he continued. “Why make things so ugly~ What if you need something from me in the future? You’re really burning bridges~” “Since you’re kicking me out~ then consider this compensation for all the years I ‘suffered’ at your house.” His silhouette vanished into the night. At that moment, I touched the money in my pocket. Every single cent.

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“Does it feel good… my husband has never made me feel like this…” In the dim room, the young woman knelt on the bed, looking back at me. Her breathing grew more ragged, her hazy eyes seemed to melt anyone she gazed upon. Just a day ago, I would never have dreamed of conquering Ms. Davies, my alluring English professor, and having her beneath me. My name is Alex Stone, a college freshman. Perhaps it was genetic, but I was born with an abundance of male hormones, leading to my, well, equipment developing at twice the rate of my peers. By the time I turned eighteen, it was truly something else. Not only did its length and girth grow exponentially, but due to an excessive amount of testosterone, my libido became incredibly potent. I needed to find a way to relieve myself twice a day, otherwise, I’d feel restless and uncomfortable all over. That day, I went to the office to ask for a leave of absence. As soon as I opened the door, I saw Ms. Davies wiping away tears. “Professor, what’s wrong?” Ms. Davies turned, forcing a calm demeanor. “Nothing, Alex. I was just tired, gave a big yawn.” “Oh… then I’ll go.” Since she didn’t want to say, I placed my leave request on her desk and turned to leave. But, as luck would have it, a sweep of my hand knocked over her thermos. Hot, steaming water splashed all over my lower abdomen and groin. For a moment, I thought I was ruined. I hopped around, clutching my crotch, wincing in pain. Ms. Davies panicked. “Where did it get you? Let me see!” I hesitated, a little awkward. Seeing my discomfort, Ms. Davies quickly grabbed my waistband, ready to pull down my pants. But just as she was about to pull, she paused. “Can you walk?” she asked, her brows furrowed. “Hiss… Kinda, kinda.” It was after school hours then, so there weren weren’t many people outside. Ms. Davies carefully but quickly helped me up to the fifth floor. She pulled out a key and opened the door to a small room opposite the storage closet. I looked around, noticing a desk and a bed inside. A few silk stockings were haphazardly tossed on the bed—it looked like her usual resting spot. Once inside, Ms. Davies helped me sit on the bed and then reached down to pull off my pants. “It was easy for someone to walk in the office earlier. Are you in pain? If the burn is serious, we have to go to the hospital!” Actually, I was almost fine by then. Though the water in the thermos was hot, it wasn’t boiling. It was more a fright than an actual burn. But lust often emboldens a man, especially with my heightened sex drive. Watching Ms. Davies kneel on the soft pad beside the bed, her captivating, beautiful face only eight inches from my groin, her luscious hourglass figure, magnified by the angle, was incredibly impactful. Her full breasts, encased in a black bra, trembled enticingly beneath her neckline, shining blindingly white. I couldn’t help but react. As my boxers slid down to my knees, my ‘member’ sprang out with a distinct thwack, like a giant snake. “Oh!” Ms. Davies hadn’t expected me to be so… gifted. She almost got hit in the face. She was visibly startled, covering her mouth with a soft gasp. Her eyes darted away. “You… quickly check… how is it?” “It just hurts…” My lifelong sexual happiness was at stake, so I naturally wouldn’t be careless. I lowered my head and inspected closely. I was relieved to find I wasn’t burned, only slightly red. The pain wasn’t from a burn, but more like a throbbing sensation from being overly aroused. Ms. Davies avoided my gaze, turning to grab a clean towel from the clothes rack. She moistened it and gently dabbed my lower abdomen. The warm breath she exhaled sprayed onto my skin, sending shivers through me. From the mirror behind her, it looked almost as if she were kneeling, attending to me. Recalling scenes from some novels, I deliberately arched my hips upward, bringing my ‘big treasure’ closer to Ms. Davies’s face. “Behave yourself…” Ms. Davies raised a hand and lightly smacked me. Then she suddenly burst out laughing. “No wonder… your nickname is ‘The Big Donkey’…” “Professor, how did you know?” “Your ex-girlfriend mentioned in the dorms that your ‘thing’ was especially big, and it just spread… Hahaha.” I awkwardly chuckled, pulling my abdomen back. Ms. Davies, seeing my expression ease, simply draped the towel over my ‘treasure’ and asked, “Are you okay now?” “Doesn’t hurt anymore, it feels warm,” I grinned foolishly. “That’s good. Don’t tell anyone about today, alright?” Ms. Davies advised, looking a little embarrassed. “Mmm-hmm, I know. It’s our little secret.” Hearing my words, Ms. Davies’s face flushed even deeper, a beautiful crimson that spread down her neck. Even though she was a mature woman, she could still display such girlish shyness. My unruly body stiffened again, and a fresh wave of desire flared within me. “You… what are you doing…” Ms. Davies froze, staring at the towel slowly rising from my erection. Her cherry-red lips parted in surprise. For a moment, the entire room was filled with an illicit tension. “I… I can’t control myself…” “I know, you’re at that age when your blood runs hot…” Ms. Davies seemed to conjure unspeakable images in her mind, her small tongue unconsciously licking her red lips, swallowing hard. “Prof—Professor…” I summoned my courage. “I’ve always liked you. Every time I see you, I get like this…” Ms. Davies stared at me blankly. After a long moment, she finally spoke. “You’re in puberty, it’s normal to have fantasies about the opposite sex. But it should be with girls your own age, not me…” “I can’t control it. And once it’s like this, it takes a long time to go down.” “Then you…” Ms. Davies actually looked a little abashed. “You… just take care of it yourself… just not too often, it’s bad for your health…” “Professor, can you… help me?” At that moment, I don’t know what I was thinking. I suddenly had a crazy impulse. I pulled the towel off, exposing my manhood, and blurted out the question. Ms. Davies froze. When she reacted, her face instantly flooded with crimson. She fiercely pinched my leg. “You dare tease your professor? You’re out of control…” Seeing her seem somewhat flustered and annoyed, I quickly stood up to appease her. But due to overexertion and my pants still being down, I immediately fell again. To make matters worse, my excited ‘member’ directly hit the corner of the desk, a painful blow. “Ah, it hurts so bad…” I writhed on the floor like a worm, clutching my groin. “What happened to you?” Seeing my distorted expression, Ms. Davies quickly kneeled over me, fumbling to see how badly I was hurt. “I… I went limp.” “What nonsense are you talking about?!” “But you’re so close to me… and it’s not reacting at all.” Ms. Davies looked at me in astonishment. I nodded helplessly. She, too, worried that I might actually be injured. She patted my back to comfort me. “Maybe you’re just too nervous. It’ll be fine in a moment.” Hearing that, I did calm down. Ms. Davies knelt on the bed, lost in thought. A few minutes later, she blushed again and leaned closer to ask, “Do you… feel anything now?” Actually, I was pretty much okay by then, but feeling Ms. Davies’s soft body pressing against my leg, that desire in my heart stirred back to life. I couldn’t help but turn my head and kiss her lips. “Hmm?” Ms. Davies blinked, seemingly not registering what had happened. After a moment, she finally spoke. “Some child is very bold, indeed.” “You still think I’m a child?” Looking at her captivating and alluring face, I steeled my heart and simply pressed her down onto the bed. “Ah!” Ms. Davies gasped, trying to shield her chest with her arms, her voice tinged with disbelief. “You… what are you doing?!” “Taking you.” Like a wild animal, I peeled back her hands and pulled them above her head, pinning them down. My other hand slipped under her skirt, pushing Ms. Davies’s underwear down below her neck, then settling over her exquisite, soft breasts. “Alex!” Ms. Davies became shy, calling my name directly. I didn’t answer. I leaned in and devoured her lips, while my right hand, using the same trick, moved downwards, boldly rubbing her buttocks hard a few times, getting my fill of what I’d dreamed of for so long. Then I tugged at the hem of her skirt, rolling it up to her waist. “Let… let me go…” Ms. Davies’s breathing was rapid and erratic. Beads of sparkling sweat glistened on her forehead, and strands of beautiful hair clung to her face, which was flushed like a peach blossom. Her half-closed eyes brimmed with unspoken passion. I kissed wildly downwards, raining kisses on her chest, lower abdomen, and thighs. Ms. Davies twisted even more fiercely, her fair legs flailing, her hands reaching out to pull at my hair. “No… we can’t…”

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Ethan Miller’s executive assistant sent me a screenshot from social media. His new secretary had posted a picture of a bento box, filled with exquisite dishes. It was the lunch I’d prepared for Ethan. The caption read: “My cold, brooding CEO Knight vanquished the Ramen Demon, saving his Bellyache Princess.” At the same time, Ethan Miller, who almost never posted on social media, updated his own status. The photo was of a cup of instant noodles, spicy beef flavored. The caption read: “A familiar taste I’ve missed.” I was grinding my teeth in fury when my mother-in-law’s call came through. “Didn’t you see him eating instant noodles? Why didn’t you prepare him lunch? He can’t eat spicy food!” I immediately contacted a major supermarket chain. “One hundred cases of spicy beef ramen, deliver them to Miller Corp.” He liked nostalgia, did he? Well, I’d give him all the nostalgia he could handle! I had barely stepped through the front door when Jack Sterling, Ethan’s executive assistant, sent me a message. It was an Instagram screenshot. Chloe Adams, Ethan Miller’s new secretary, had posted a photo of a bento box. The dishes inside were beautifully arranged, with meat, vegetables, and fish, all nutritionally balanced. It was clear someone had put a lot of care into it. Chloe’s caption read: “My cold, brooding CEO Knight vanquished the Ramen Demon, saving his Bellyache Princess.” I frowned, confused. Why was the bento box I’d prepared for Ethan in his secretary’s hands? Before I could react, Jack sent another message: “Check your feed.” I opened Instagram, and my blood immediately began to boil. Ethan Miller, who probably posted once a year if that, had actually updated his status. The picture showed a cup of spicy beef instant noodles and a hand holding a plastic fork. The caption read: “A familiar taste I’ve missed.” That bastard Ethan! He ignored the elaborate bento box I’d carefully prepared for him, gave it to his secretary, and then went and ate instant noodles himself. I was about to call him and demand an explanation when my mother-in-law’s call came through. I pressed answer, and before I could even bring the phone to my ear, a barrage of complaints erupted from the other end. “Olivia, what’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you prepare lunch for Ethan today?” “Don’t you know he has a sensitive stomach and can’t handle spicy food? How could you let him eat that garbage, instant noodles?” “Mom, I made him lunch…” “You made him lunch? If you made him lunch, how could he be eating instant noodles?” My mother-in-law cut me off. “I just called Ethan. He said you went shopping today and forgot to prepare his lunch.” “You don’t do anything all day, you don’t even go to the company. Can’t you even get one meal right?” Too fed up to argue, I hung up. Then, I immediately sent her Chloe Adams’s Instagram screenshot. “See? Your son fed the meal I slaved over to a dog.” Silence from my mother-in-law’s end. My chest tightened with frustration. At that moment, I just wanted to see some blood. That asshole Ethan! Not only did he give the lunch I prepared to his secretary, he also posted on Instagram, clearly responding to that woman. To top it all off, he lied to his mother and said I hadn’t made him anything at all. He’s playing games with his secretary at the company, and I’m the one getting blamed? He knows perfectly well spicy food gives him a stomach ache, but he just had to eat that bowl of instant noodles. Why? Because he knows every time he gets a stomach ache, I’ll be there, waiting on him hand and foot. If he loved that “familiar taste” so much, then I’d grant his wish! 2 That afternoon, a supermarket delivery truck pulled up right in front of Miller Corp.’s main entrance. The unloaders opened the cargo bay and started stacking cases of instant ramen right there in the company lobby. The young receptionist at the front desk rushed over. “Stop, stop! Did you deliver to the wrong address?” I walked out from behind the truck. The receptionist, seeing me, quickly bowed. “Mrs. Miller!” “No mistake, it’s supposed to be here.” I pointed to the pile of instant noodles, which was quickly forming a small mountain. “Later, find someone to deliver all one hundred cases of these instant noodles to the CEO’s office.” With that, I strode directly into the elevator. In his office, Ethan’s face was ashen as he watched case after case of ramen being brought in. “Olivia, can you please stop this childish behavior?” “I just saw she had a stomach ache and was eating instant noodles, so I gave her the meal you made for me.” “She and I have a purely professional relationship. There’s nothing going on between us.” “Ethan Miller, you don’t have to be sleeping with someone for it to count as cheating. You know what you’re thinking deep down.” “You’re enjoying this ambiguous atmosphere right now. You’re enjoying that worshipful look she gives you.” “With so many people in the company, would you give the meal I made to anyone else who had a stomach ache?” “We’ve been married for so long. You don’t seriously think I don’t know exactly what kind of person you are, do you?” “Your mother started lecturing me right after you posted that Instagram photo. Tell me, what did you tell your mom?” The office door swung open. Chloe Adams, wearing a little white dress and white canvas shoes, walked in carrying a coffee cup. She was sickeningly innocent, exactly the type I couldn’t stand. “Ms. Jenkins, your coffee.” I picked up the coffee cup and, without hesitation, splashed it all over her. Chloe gasped. Her steps, which should have taken her backward to dodge, instead faltered, sending her tumbling towards Ethan. Ethan reached out and caught Chloe. His face was visibly alight with anger. “Olivia Hayes, are you seriously not done with this?” “This is the company, not our home. No one here is going to pamper you!” I sneered, looking at the little shrinking violet on the verge of tears in his arms. “Hold her tighter. Press a little harder. Your CEO Knight might just divorce me and let his Bellyache Princess take my place.” At my words, both their faces flushed, and they quickly separated. I pointed at Chloe, who was now covered in coffee. “Ethan Miller, you still have the nerve to say you don’t play favorites?” “What did she just call me when she walked in? Ms. Jenkins? Am I not married to you? Or am I some shady mistress?” “Is the ‘Ms. Jenkins’ title something you’ve silently approved? Are you planning to divorce me?” “All the female employees here wear business suits and skirts. Black stockings and heels are mandatory, even for me. What’s up with her outfit? Is this your new fetish?” Ethan’s eyes flickered with embarrassment, like a student caught cheating with a cheat sheet by a strict proctor. “What are you talking about? She just hasn’t had time to buy suitable clothes, so I let her wear her own clothes to work. Don’t overthink it.” “Ethan Miller, she’s been working here for almost a month! What kind of clothes take a month to buy? Even a pig would have found clothes by now!” “I’m done with this. You handle it yourself.” I pointed to the instant noodles in the hallway. “Starting tomorrow, I won’t be making you meals. Whenever you’ve eaten your fill of those hundred cases of instant ramen, that’s when I’ll consider cooking for you again. You don’t like my cooking, do you? From now on, you can live with these instant noodles.” Ethan’s face grew impatient. “Can you stop being so unreasonable? When did I ever say I didn’t like your cooking?” “So, you do like it, then?” I pulled a bento box from my bag, opened the lid, and set it in front of him. “Eat up. You said you liked it, didn’t you?” Ethan slammed his hand on the table. “Olivia Hayes, are you insane? What do you mean by putting dog food in my bento box?” “It’s the meal I prepared for you. You like feeding my food to dogs, don’t you?” My gaze fell on Chloe Adams, standing nearby. “Bellyache Princess, this is the supper your loyal servant specially prepared for you.” “Eat up. What are you waiting for?” 3 Chloe Adams, stained with coffee, stood behind Ethan, head bowed. Tears flowed like a broken faucet, hitting the floor with a rhythmic pitter-patter. Anyone walking in would think the CEO had installed a new sprinkler system in his office. “Chloe Adams, if you harbor ambitions of becoming the CEO’s wife, you should know that these pathetic men might like delicate little hothouse flowers like you, but they would never let a whiny, crying waste of space become their partner.” “If you only want to be a rich man’s plaything or an illegitimate mistress for life, then keep crying. See if your CEO Knight will actually marry his Bellyache Princess.” “If you want to kick me out and take my place, then show some of the guts a mistress needs to become the wife.” I pushed the bento box filled with dog food closer. “Eat it. If you eat it, Ethan will a hundred percent side with you against this old hag. Then you’ll be one step closer to becoming Mrs. Miller.” “You want to be a wealthy socialite, but you’re too afraid to lose face? Then you’re destined to be nothing more than a template and a trophy for rich men.” Chloe Adams clearly hadn’t heard a word I said. Her tears flowed even more profusely. “Ms. Jenkins, I’m just a secretary, but that doesn’t mean I have no dignity. You’re insulting my character.” “Mr. Miller and I have never crossed a line. You’re just speculating with your malice!” “Insulting your character? You don’t have a mirror, but you must have a phone camera, right? Why don’t you take a look at yourself?” I scoffed. “Never crossed a line? You really have the nerve to say that?” “As a secretary, you can’t even dress appropriately. Does that outfit look like a secretary’s attire? If you went out with the boss to negotiate a deal looking like that, do you think people would see you as his secretary or a toy he brought along to show off?” “A secretary eats her boss’s lunch and feels smug about it. As a secretary, you’re supposed to solve problems for your boss, not create them.” “If you truly had any dignity, you’d proudly resign and leave right now, instead of standing here whining and playing weak, begging for your CEO Knight’s protection.” “Enough!” Ethan kicked the bento box with dog food across the room. “Olivia Hayes, don’t push your luck!” “This is the company. This is my private secretary. What right do you have to treat my staff like that?” Dog food scattered everywhere. I stood there like a statue, letting the kibble hit me, unmoving. “Ethan Miller, I’m giving you two choices right now.” “One: you keep your Bellyache Princess, and we get a divorce.” “Two: you fire her. I can pretend none of this ever happened, and I won’t bring it up again.” “One or two, you choose.” “Impossible!” Ethan answered without hesitation. “The company has its rules and regulations. No one has the right to fire an employee without cause.” I nodded. “Alright, I understand.” With that, I stood up and walked straight out. Ethan rushed after me, grabbing my arm. “Olivia, can you please stop acting out?” “Let go!” I shook his hand off. “Ethan Miller, you made your choice. Why are you clinging to me now?” “It’s the twenty-first century. Don’t tell me you’re planning on building a harem.” “Are you going to elevate her to a co-wife, or make her your concubine?” “Olivia, can you just listen to me—” “Get lost!”

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“I can’t take it… You’re too good at this…” On the silent practice field, I lay prostrate on the ground, my rear hiked high, letting him roughly pull my ponytail, allowing him to do whatever he pleased with me. In a haze, I felt myself slipping into a strange state, an intensifying hunger for even rougher treatment… My name is Riley Miller, a freshman at the Performing Arts College, specializing in dance. Because of my looks and figure, many guys saw me as an untouchable, aloof goddess, too intimidated to ask me out. But they had no idea that since puberty, a powerful urge for intimacy had awakened within me. I’d even… more than once fantasized about being completely overpowered and taken by multiple strong men. And it all started that one night. My parents were always busy with work, often not getting home until after midnight. These late hours were my absolute free time. As usual, I’d snuck into their master bedroom and opened their computer, planning to play some games. Instead, I found a string of blush-inducing titles in the playback history: “Prime Housewife Cheating on Husband with 5 Alpha Males.” “Innocent Campus Queen’s Passionate Bout with Black Men.” “…” The content of these videos was invariably the same: several powerful, muscular men surrounding a beautiful, naked woman, manipulating her luscious body as they pleased. A fierce wave of shame made me want to retreat. Yet, my eyes were completely beyond my control, mesmerized, fixated on the screen as the woman was left breathless, writhing in ecstasy, biting the sheets and rolling her eyes back. Growing up, my mom’s strict upbringing and my dance training had taught me to always maintain a ladylike poise and discretion. I was to avoid sitting immodestly in skirts at all times. No talking to boys, no staying out past curfew, and definitely no early relationships. So that was my first time seeing an adult man’s naked body. And it was my first time realizing that men could be as wild and untamed as bulls. And that a woman could, apparently, accommodate so many men at once. Under such intense stimulation, my breathing grew more ragged, and I involuntarily slipped my hand under my nightgown, exploring gently. From that day on, every night I would hide under my covers, fantasizing about being roughly handled by several strong men, while soothing my own body. Only when my strength was completely drained could I finally fall asleep peacefully. I had been distressed, unsure how to manage my seemingly bottomless desires. But on the very first day of freshman orientation camp, I finally got a taste of that intoxicating sensation. That day, I was in a dream, being tossed and turned by two burly men, when I was suddenly roused by my roommate from the bunk below. “Riley, wake up! Formation call!” “What?! Why didn’t my alarm go off?” Being late for orientation was a serious offense. Seeing my roommates rushing off, I didn’t even have time to change my underwear, grabbing my camouflage uniform and hurrying downstairs, pulling it on as I ran. But I was still late. A tall, powerfully built man, easily six-foot-three, stood at the stairwell, clutching a stopwatch, his face grim. His eyes were sharp, fixed on me. Seeing his stern expression, my heart sank. I didn’t even hesitate at the last two steps, jumping down directly and sneaking to the back of the line, head bowed. My ankle felt a little twisted, but I didn’t pay it any mind then. What I was concerned about was that I’d forgotten to wear a bra. Yes, my breasts were quite full, and it was obvious when I walked without a bra. After that jump, they bounced conspicuously. And the coach must have seen it because his gaze lingered on my chest for an extra few seconds. It was utterly humiliating. “My name is Ryan Thompson, and I’m your coach!” “Regarding discipline, I will emphasize only one thing: obedience!” I thought the coach had let me off the hook, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But during the marching drills, he singled me out again, claiming my kicks were off and I needed individual training. I couldn’t rejoin the squad until I perfected them, otherwise, I’d drag the whole team down. “No strength, just flimsy!” Ryan stood beside me, taking my leg and adjusting my posture. “Stand tall, don’t move.” We were at the very back of the line. The students in front were all standing at attention, no one looking back, so naturally, no one saw his hand on my leg. The uniforms issued by the school were thin, so thin I could even feel the warmth of his palm. Suddenly, I remembered my spring dream from the night before. The faces of the two super-strong men in my dream, once blurry, now began to sharpen, transforming into Ryan Thompson’s face. He peeled off my uniform, pressing me down onto the bed, riding me like a horse. His hard muscles, infinite strength, and astonishing stamina – everything about him drove me wild. Just then, Ryan’s hand gradually shifted lower, his large palm cupping half my buttock, kneading gently twice. “Tighten your glutes,” he murmured. In my dream, he had said something like: “Slut, hike that ass higher.” “Ugh…” As I thought of that unspeakable image, a ticklish, numb sensation instantly spread between my thighs, as if ants were crawling there. My buttocks involuntarily clenched inwards, and I let out a soft moan. Ryan turned his head to look at me. “Coach,” I whimpered, “I don’t feel good.” “Where do you not feel good?” “I can’t quite say.” “You’ll get used to it.” No sooner had he spoken than he pressed his entire body against my back, one hand resting on my lower abdomen, the other cupping my breast, embracing me completely. “Stomach in, chest out, hips tucked.” Besides my most intimate area, I had three other sensitive spots: my earlobes, my neck, and my chest. Just a light touch to any of these would trigger an immediate reaction. So, the moment Ryan’s hands landed on them, I felt a delicious tingle, a delightful ache that almost made me wet myself. But I didn’t feel any discomfort. In fact, I deliberately pushed my chest out, craving him to go further. I don’t know how long it lasted, just as I thought Ryan’s hand would slip under my clothes any second, he suddenly pulled away. Losing that firm contact, I felt as if a piece of my heart had been ripped out, leaving me hollow and intensely uncomfortable. The pleasure halted abruptly, and the emptiness multiplied. My legs went weak, and my body involuntarily swayed to the side. Thankfully, Ryan caught me. I stumbled into his broad, solid chest, my inner thigh landing squarely on his hand. Feeling Ryan’s fingers hook upward, I impulsively reached out and ran my hand across his lower abdomen. So powerful! How did he manage to stuff that monstrosity into his pants? It was even more exaggerated than in the adult films I’d watched. I wanted to devour him whole. “You…” Ryan’s words started, then abruptly stopped. I secretly glanced at him, only to see him staring intently at my crotch. A quick glance down confirmed that the camouflage pants were of terrible quality. Somehow, they’d ripped open, right at my groin, completely exposing me. “Ah…” I let out a soft gasp, quickly covering myself, and looked at him with a pout. “I have new training uniforms in my room. Come with me.” With that, Ryan dismissed the squad. Once only the two of us remained on the field, he scooped me up, carried me into the adjacent staff dormitory, set me down on a cot, and locked the door. In the confined space, he finally dropped the act. First, he smoothed my hair back, then with a quick tear, he ripped my uniform in half, revealing my smooth, unblemished skin beneath. “Same uniform, but why do you make it look so slutty?” “Coach…” I knelt on the cot, my throat dry with nerves. “Slut! You’re nothing but a slut!” He scoffed. “Not even wearing a bra, just trying to tempt men, huh?” Then, without room for refusal, he gripped my cheeks, forcing my mouth open, and inserted two fingers inside, swirling them around my tongue. In that instant, the sensation of being utterly dominated by a man reached its peak. “Mmmph mmmph…” I didn’t hesitate. Just like the women in the videos, I sucked on his fingers, looking up at him, my tongue teasing and producing wet, squelching sounds. It was incredibly shameful, yet it ignited a burning heat within me. Soon, saliva dribbled from the corner of my mouth, down my chin, and onto my chest. A surge of even greater excitement and stimulation flooded my heart, because Ryan had already pulled down his pants. The moment I’d been longing for was finally about to happen… Knock knock knock. Just then, a knock at the door suddenly echoed, shattering the atmosphere in the room. “Ryan, are you in there?”

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Ever since I can remember, my parents’ relationship was like a pile of loose sand. They argued and later, they just started living apart. Christmas, a time that should have been for family, came and went, but Mom never showed up. The next day, a lawyer knocked on our door with divorce papers. I don’t know what was written on them, but I saw Grandpa and Grandma fly into a rage over it. In the biting winter cold, they bluntly shut the door in the lawyer’s face. That polite lawyer stood in the freezing wind for ten minutes, finally just saying, “Well then, I’ll see you in court.” Those words cast a depressing shadow over the entire holiday season. I was never the favorite in this house anyway, so I just took on all the chores, treading carefully, terrified of upsetting anyone. Dad pulled a fat envelope of cash from his pocket, grinning as he handed it to my younger brother: “Ethan, Merry Christmas!” Ethan took the money and gave Dad a sweet kiss on the cheek. Dad dotingly pinched Ethan’s little face, his eyes full of love. That scene filled me with envy. After finishing the chores, my heart pounding, I pulled my report card from my backpack and handed it to Dad, hoping to see him smile. Who knew that the moment he saw it, his face would change, and he’d snatch it and rip it to shreds. He looked down at me, his voice full of reproach: “Do you know how hard I work for money? And you have the nerve to ask for Christmas money with this!” Grandma, always quick to read the room, immediately chimed in: “Just like your mother, ungrateful!” Before the words were even out, she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face several times: “Hurry up and clean this mess, you little jinx, can’t even let people have a peaceful holiday!” I was dizzy from the blows and stumbled to the ground. When I came to my senses, the room was empty. I knew clearly that in this family, I was just an extra. I was eight that year, and it was also the last Christmas I spent in our old town. The day of departure drew near. Dad was taking Ethan to the city. Before leaving, Grandma shoved me into the car with a look of disgust: “Let her go take care of Ethan; someone needs to do the work around the house.” Dad hadn’t wanted to take me, but hearing that, he reluctantly agreed. Deep down, I understood. Grandma and Dad had already discussed it—after the divorce, one child each. They were determined to keep Ethan, and I was just being temporarily taken to look after him. When the time was right, I’d be dumped with Mom. I could only console myself that maybe, with Mom, things would get better. In court, my parents fought tooth and nail for custody of Ethan, while I could only sit silently on the bench, awaiting my fate. When Mom walked out of the courtroom, devastated, I knew the answer. Before the hearing, the lawyer had softly asked me, “Little girl, do you want to live with your dad, or your mom?” I looked out the window at the birds hovering in the cold winter air, as lost and alone as I was. “Who would want me?” My heart was bitter. I originally wanted to say, “I’ll go with whoever wants me,” but the reality was, it seemed no one wanted me. I wore a drab dress, just like my life, a shade of gray. That day, I went back to Dad’s place to pack my things, just as he brought some friends home. They ate, drank, and partied for a long time, finally leaving me to clean up their mess. Someone pointed at me and asked, “Whose kid is this? Haven’t seen her before.” Dad, with his arm around Ethan, glanced at me casually, “Kid from our old town. Her mom’s coming to pick her up later.” I stood frozen, the broom in my hand feeling like it weighed a ton. When the agreed time came, Dad sent me downstairs early. He uncharacteristically stuffed an envelope of money into my hand: “Don’t come back unless it’s important.” He paused, then added, “And don’t come back even if it is.” I didn’t reach for the money, not because I didn’t want it, but because it was too cold that day. My hands were already frozen stiff, and my heart had turned to ice. I stared hard at the man before me—he was clearly my father, so why did he detest me so much? He stubbornly shoved the envelope into my coat and walked into the elevator without a backward glance. The Christmas cheer hadn’t faded yet; kids on the street corner were happily setting off fireworks and firecrackers with their fathers, their laughter crisp and clear. My heart full of grievance, I slammed the envelope on the ground and stomped on it several times. I didn’t want the money; I just wanted my dad’s love. Thinking this, tears welled up, and I burst out crying, hoping so much that Dad could hear my heart. But I knew he wouldn’t turn back. Tired from crying, I stubbornly stared at the street corner, hoping Mom would come for me—I still had Mom, didn’t I? I waited alone in the cold wind, from day to night, until every house had turned off its lights and gone to sleep. Finally, a beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness, and a distant call came: “Ella?” The light shone on me, warmth chasing away the chill. I ran over, and the person’s face gradually became clear—it was Grandma, that kind-faced old woman. Mom had married far away, and Grandma rarely visited us. The last time I’d seen her was four years ago when Ethan was born. Full of anticipation, I looked behind her, about to ask about Mom. She pulled a steaming hot pastry from her pocket and stuffed it into my mouth. I had been hungry for so long, and the savory aroma filled my mouth. I wolfed it down, and then I heard her say, “You’ll stay with me for a few days. Your mom went to earn some money.” I nodded. A thought crossed my mind: Mom was having such a hard time. I had to help her take good care of Grandma. But Grandma was lying. Mom didn’t want me either. I waited for three years. My mom never came back, never even called me. At first, I would eagerly pester Grandma, “Why doesn’t Mom call me? Is Mom coming back for the holidays this year?” Grandma would mysteriously pull out a bag of snacks. “Your mom sent these. She knows you love them.” Not long after, as if by magic, she’d pull out a brand-new dress from behind her back. “Look, it’s your favorite color.” Again and again. Every so often, Grandma would pull out [a gift from Mom]. It wasn’t until later. I discovered Grandma would sneak out at night, rummaging through trash cans, picking up bottle after bottle, can after can. Her small, thin frame carried that huge bag of recyclables, moving step by step, carefully searching, afraid to miss a single one. This was her secret. That night I cried for a very, very long time. The next day, my eyes were so swollen I could barely open them. She, instead, asked me, “Are you missing your mom?” I rushed into her arms and shook my head, hugging her very, very tightly. Later on, she asked me if there was anything I liked recently; she would call my mom. My eyes instantly reddened, and I held back tears, afraid she’d notice. “There’s nothing I like, Mom… has it too hard.” I didn’t want Mom anymore; having Grandma was good enough. Even though I said that, Grandma still went out every night under the cover of darkness. Worried, I followed her from a distance. The putrid smell from the trash cans drifted on the wind, making me want to gag. When she found me, a flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. “You child, coming out without wearing more clothes!” She took off her thick coat and put it on me, not forgetting to explain, “I can’t sleep at night, so I come out to move around a bit. You have school tomorrow, hurry back!” My nose tingled, my eyes welled up, and I took the bag from her hand. “Grandma, let’s go home.” “I can’t sleep without you by my side.” Grandma paused, then her face broke into a smile. When I first came to the countryside, I slept far away from her, curled up in a corner, shivering from the cold but too scared to make a sound. After that court case, when I saw her again, I was already eleven. Mom was getting remarried and came back to invite Grandma to the wedding. She pulled a few clothes out of her suitcase, saying she bought them especially for me. She pressed them into my hands, smiling, “Hurry and try them on. You’ve never seen such nice clothes, have you?” When I took the dress, the smile froze on my face. The dress had shiny sequins and cheap lace trim. Not only was it several sizes too small, but it was also something far too childish for my age. Three years apart, I had grown taller. But I forgot, she didn’t know. Or perhaps, she never knew, not then, not now. I laughed self-deprecatingly, wondering what I was even expecting. In the end, I put that dress at the very bottom of my closet, out of sight, out of mind. I went to the city with Grandma for her wedding. The scenery outside the car window flew by: paved roads, tall buildings, and at night, rows of bright streetlights. Grandma’s eyes sparkled with excitement: “If only you could study here.” I stubbornly shook my head. I just wanted to be with Grandma; even if life was a bit harder, it didn’t matter. I just needed to work hard. That night, we stayed in the city. Grandma and I felt awkward and out of place in the fancy apartment. My mom pointed at Grandma’s feet with a frown, “Mom, you’re filthy. Go wash up.” A look of embarrassment and helplessness flashed across Grandma’s face, and she quickly nodded. She had barely taken a few steps when she turned back to ask where the faucet was. My mom rolled her eyes in exasperation, sighed deeply, and said, “I shouldn’t have brought you. You’re such a bother.” I shot up, stood protectively in front of Grandma, pulled her into the bathroom, and washed her feet for her. “We’re going back tomorrow!” When I woke up, Grandma was gone. I frantically searched the entire apartment, calling her name several times, but only echoes answered me. I stood there, cold sweat breaking out all over my body. Gradually, I found it hard to breathe and collapsed weakly to the floor. Last night, Grandma told me Mom wanted me to stay in the city to study; everything in the city was the best. But I knew it was she who had begged Mom for a long time. She even took out all her savings from selling recyclables. Only then did Mom reluctantly agree. Grandma had tricked me again. This time, I decided to follow her wishes, study hard, and never disappoint her. Later, I secretly called Grandma, sobbing for a long time before I could speak: “Grandma, I’ll work hard to get into Northwood High. Will you come see me then?” Her voice thick with emotion, she answered, “Okay.” Mom’s new family was wealthy, so her status at home wasn’t very high. Taking me in to study in the city seemed to have created a rift between her and Mr. Davis. To live here peacefully, I carefully tried to please everyone. Including Gavin. Gavin was Mr. Davis’s son. When I first came to the house. I habitually tried to be nice, giving him half of the cake Mom rarely bought for me. Gavin threw it on the floor and said flatly, “Disgusting.” All I got in return was him bullying me even more. My grades couldn’t keep up with the city’s pace. During midterms, the school called for a parent-teacher conference. Mom lost face and slapped me in front of everyone in the classroom. Because I was third from the bottom, and Gavin was last. “It’s bad enough your own grades are terrible, but you’re also a bad influence on your brother!” It was clearly Gavin who had locked me in the girls’ bathroom, making me late. But she didn’t even ask why. I finally understood she was trying to suck up to the Davis family; even if it meant me getting hit, as long as Gavin was happy, it was fine. I half-covered my face, tears welling up, biting my lip to keep them from falling. In that moment, I really, really missed Grandma. I wanted to get into Northwood High, to keep my promise to Grandma, so I endured it. As soon as I got home, Gavin was kicking a tattered piece of cloth around by the door. I recognized it instantly—it was the vest Grandma had knitted for me! He wasn’t satisfied with just stomping it; he deliberately tore it. I knew he did all this on purpose, just to drive me away. I used all my strength to push him down hard, my eyes red as I screamed, “If you’re so tough, go pick on your dad! What kind of is it to bully me!” Gavin set the torn vest on the ground on fire. He glared at me: “So what if I bully you? Who asked you to come to my house! This is my house!” My feelings were the same as his; I hated this so-called blended family. Everyone faked harmony on the surface, but in reality, they all despised each other. But Gavin would only take it out on me. I looked down on him. The emotions I had suppressed for so long finally boiled over. I fought with Gavin. Mr. Davis came home from work and saw this. He picked me up and threw me hard to the side. “You dare bully my son in my house!” “I give you food, I pay for your school, and instead of being grateful, you’re this arrogant!” I got up, wincing in pain, tears uncontrollably welling in my eyes. “He started it, he’s always…” He pointed to the front door and yelled at me, “Get out of my house now, get out!” My gaze followed his pointing finger to the doorway, where my mom was standing, witnessing everything. She frowned at me without saying a word, showing no intention of speaking up for me. Clinging to hope, I pulled on my mom’s sleeve, my voice hoarse as I pleaded, “Mom, can I stay?” “Grandma is still waiting for me to get into Northwood High. I promised her.” I don’t know which words were wrong, but she slapped me across the face. “You troublesome thing, why don’t you just die? You just keep dragging me down!” This was the second time she told me to die. Even though when she gave birth to me, she had risked her life. But why give birth to me only to tell me to die? What did I do wrong? Before I could recover from my shock, she had already rushed over to Gavin, anxiously checking his injuries. I stood alone at the door, unable to go in or out. Just standing there. Watching the happy, harmonious family of three. From beginning to end, I was just an outsider. My mom threw all my things out the door, her eyes filled with disgust: “Take your trash and get out. Don’t be an eyesore here.” After saying that, she didn’t even glance at me before slamming the door shut. Shutting me out. I left the Davis house. I would never come back. That day, I don’t know how long I walked. Until my legs were sore and numb, until the soles of my shoes wore thin. With every step, a little closer to home. I don’t know how long I walked, my heels gradually aching and swelling. Until I stood before that door. Suddenly, I wanted to cry again. I took a deep breath but didn’t have the courage to knock. I was afraid to see Grandma’s worried expression, afraid to see her disappointment. In the end, I squatted by the door, quietly waiting for dawn, feeling an unprecedented sense of peace. I was home. Grandma was startled when she opened the door in the morning, surprised and overjoyed to see me. “Why are you back!” My eyes reddened, and I pursed my lips, unable to say a word. I was afraid if I spoke, I would break down crying, so I could only silently hold it in. I carefully observed the expression on her face, worried if Grandma would blame me for being difficult. She glanced at my feet and secretly wiped away a tear. I followed her gaze; my socks were soaked with blood, and the soles of my shoes were worn through. Only now did it start to hurt. “It’s good you’re back, it’s good you’re back.” Her voice was very soft. I couldn’t tell if she was talking to me or to herself.

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Willow. Her name meant grace, but her reality was anything but. A daily smoky eye, a mouth full of curses, a true rebel kid. The neighbors would say, “Just what you’d expect from a gambling addict’s spawn.” The teachers would say, “She’s ruining the school’s reputation.” Everyone called her a lost cause, mud that wouldn’t stick to a wall. Yet, she was the least of their worries. She left home to work right after high school, and at 20, married out of spite to her own father. But her luck in love was terrible. Far from living happily ever after, She got the whole package deal of misery: cruel, greedy in-laws, a selfish, deceitful husband, and a rebellious, cold daughter. She fell ill and passed away before forty, and her husband openly flirted with another woman at her funeral. It was utterly tragic. And I. I was determined to rewrite her destiny. 1 It all began when I crossed back in time to the year 2000, into the body of someone dying from an incurable illness. No, not dying. Already dead. The girl’s name was Skylar. Though terminally ill, she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth; her parents doted on her. In some ways, she was infinitely luckier than me—a person who, though perfectly healthy and full of life, had a dad who didn’t care and a mom who didn’t love her. Alright, I admit there’s a tiny bit of jealousy in that statement. Despite the unscientific event of transmigration, I could feel it: the cancer cells hadn’t slowed their invasion and destruction of this body. I died in a car crash and was reborn, but not completely. “Sky.” The hospital room door pushed open, and a beautiful woman, her face shadowed by a faint veil of sorrow, yet forcing a smile, walked in, followed by five or six household staff. The woman was the mother of the girl whose body I now inhabited. Sky was her nickname. “How are you feeling today? Anywhere uncomfortable?” Honestly, I felt uncomfortable everywhere. Since I’d arrived, it had been less than half a month, and I’d already undergone five rounds of chemotherapy. Each one felt like the agony of being flayed alive. But facing Eleanor, Skylar’s mother, at this moment, I could only put on a brave face. “I think I have a bit more energy than yesterday.” Eleanor’s eyes instantly sparkled with dazzling hope. She rushed to the bedside, scooping up my hand as if it were a fragile piece of porcelain. “Really? Oh, then, do you feel like eating anything, Sky? Mommy made your favorite mini pastries today, they’re still warm! Want a bite?” I truly had no appetite, but for the sake of a mother’s heartfelt kindness, I could manage a bite. But Eleanor still noticed my hesitation and immediately had the pastries taken away. “Sky,” Eleanor forced a smile, “Your eighteenth birthday is coming up soon. Have you thought about how you want to celebrate?” I thought for a moment, then told her what was, for both me and the original Skylar, the greatest desire so far. “Mom, I want to go to school.” 2 The year 2000, Northwood High. If this wasn’t a parallel universe, then… “Hey, hey, move it, pal! Get out of the way, will ya?” A sharp retort interrupted my thoughts, followed by a flash of a girl—her uniform jacket tied at her waist, wearing a short skirt even in the dead of winter—dashing past me. A gust of cold wind followed in her wake. “Miss! That student was so rude! Are you feeling alright? Should we go back to the doctor–” My private nurse, Ben, who was here as a chaperone, nervously rushed over, fussing with concern, afraid I couldn’t handle the sudden draft. “I’m fine.” Cutting off Ben’s incessant chatter, I looked at the distant figure who had already run off, lost in thought. Ben quietly closed his mouth, but began to watch our surroundings constantly. After that incident, he was even more on edge. Thankfully, everything went smoothly afterward. After completing the registration process at the administrative office, our homeroom teacher led us to my new classroom. Senior Year, Class 9. It was silent reading time, but a few students stood haphazardly at the classroom door, all looking utterly blasé. Among them was the girl in the short skirt I’d seen moments ago. She stood out conspicuously among the boys, leaning against the wall, head bowed, her brightly colored hair falling over her face. Seeing the nurse, the hand pushing my wheelchair instinctively tightened. “Miss, isn’t that the one from earlier…” I gave him a cool glance, and Ben immediately shut up, though his face still showed confusion. Hearing the commotion, the students at the classroom door all turned to look. Mr. Finch, the homeroom teacher, looked livid. “You lot again!” Mr. Finch’s gaze, sharp as a knife, sliced across each student, but deliberately skipped over the girl in the short skirt. The boys grinned sheepishly: “Honestly, Mr. Finch, we tried our best today, we were only one minute late!” Mr. Finch looked exasperated. “One minute? Your total tardiness for this semester has already exceeded 72 hours!” The boys wheedled and cajoled Mr. Finch, who, losing his temper, waved them into the classroom. Again, he deliberately skipped over the girl in the short skirt. 3 Perhaps because I didn’t need to study hard, Senior year was far more relaxed than I expected. Of course, arriving at school in a wheelchair, accompanied by a nurse and bodyguards, immediately piqued the curiosity of most students. They speculated about my background, gossiped about my health, and most of their words weren’t very pleasant. Once it was clear the bodyguards wouldn’t easily interfere, my classmates joined the gossip brigade. “Coming to school in a wheelchair, probably just a drama queen.” “And the nurse and bodyguards? Too many melodramatic movies, huh?” “She thinks she’s some kind of star.” A few girls huddled together, whispering. Their seats weren’t far from mine, and I could hear every word clearly. Ben intended to intervene, but I had no desire for a confrontation at school, so I held him back. But then, a second later. Bang! “Ahhh!!!” A loud crash, followed by several screams, erupted. I turned my head, startled, to see the girl in the short skirt, Willow, looking impatient. “Are your mouths permanently stuck on repeat? Non-stop chatter this early. If you love talking so much, maybe try stand-up comedy instead of school. You’d probably ace it.” The overturned desk lay on its side, its contents scattered across the floor like confetti. The girls who had been badmouthing me moments ago huddled together, looking utterly shaken. Willow frustratingly ran a hand through her hair, as if muttering to herself. “Haven’t brushed your teeth in years? Your breath stinks so bad, you’d think this classroom was a sewer.” The girls’ faces turned ashen with anger, but none dared to confront her directly. The previously noisy classroom fell silent in an instant. 4 “Pfft.” Inappropriate time, place, and atmosphere. Inappropriate laughter. The girls who had just been quivering like quail before Willow immediately glared at me, subtly but fiercely. I met their gazes unperturbed. Barely old enough to drive, their collective courage was more fragile than a soap bubble. Within seconds, the girls nervously shifted their eyes away under my cool stare. Willow scoffed, hands in her pockets, and walked out of the classroom. The girls reverted to their old habits, starting to chirp about someone again, but this time, their target was Willow. “Hmph. Deadbeat dad, and a mom who ran off with another man. No idea why she acts so high and mighty all the time!” “My mom said her dad sometimes gets drunk and hits her! On the surface, she looks fine, but she’s bruised black and blue underneath, it’s horrible!” “Serves her right! People like her are just a waste of air.” “Hey, I heard she’s also involved with some sketchy crowd outside of school, I wonder…” The girl didn’t finish her sentence. A few of them suddenly let out knowing giggles. She just stuck up for me, so I couldn’t just sit by, could I? Amidst the girls’ meaningful laughter, I raised my hand and tapped the desk in front of me, sweeping my gaze coolly across them. “Can’t you go a minute without badmouthing someone? ‘Gossip queens’ definitely suits you three.” “You!” One of them, Ruby, with straight-cut bangs, indignantly stood up, as if coming to confront me. I smirked, casually retorting. “Heard who? Your shady friends? If you were so brave, why didn’t you dare say a word earlier?” Ruby sputtered in anger: “Are you effing crazy?! We weren’t talking about you! Stop looking for trouble!” I smiled faintly. “Can’t help it. Guess I’m just a drama queen.” 5 As expected, The girls ran to Mr. Finch to complain, playing the victims. When I was called to his office, The moment I stepped inside, I saw their triumphant expressions, clearly expecting a show. I shook my head inwardly. It was time to give them a little shock. Seeing me enter, Mr. Finch immediately stood up and rushed forward, even taking over from Ben, personally pushing my wheelchair to his desk. He said nothing about the complaint, only fussing over my well-being with eager concern. The previously smug girls looked dumbfounded, standing awkwardly, unsure whether to stay or leave. I glanced at them. Mr. Finch didn’t speak, and neither did I, just leaving them hanging. After a few minutes of polite small talk, someone finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Mr. Finch, Skylar cursed at us for no reason in class! The whole class can vouch for it!” Mr. Finch’s smile instantly froze. He glared at the girl, then turned to me, gently seeking confirmation. “Skylar, is what they’re saying true?” I gave an affirmative answer. “Yes, cursing was indeed a fact.” Mr. Finch, who was clearly ready to defend me, stared blankly, his mouth half-open. The girls immediately became smug again. I chuckled inwardly, then continued: “But I didn’t curse without reason.” “How not?!” Ruby, the one with bangs, blurted out anxiously. I gave her a poker-faced glance, then, mimicking their previous tone precisely, recounted every single one of their nasty comments to Mr. Finch. “Publicly cursing is certainly wrong, but my actions can at most be considered self-defense.” 6 After hearing my recitation, Mr. Finch’s face turned green. The girls immediately started yelling. “You’re lying!” “Stop slandering us! We never talk behind our classmates’ backs!” “You’re just making things up!” It was as if their mouths could hold up the sky. Too lazy to bother with them, I addressed Mr. Finch directly: “Of course, if you don’t believe me, you can do as they say and call the other classmates to confront us face-to-face.” “No need for a confrontation!” Mr. Finch said bluntly: “Skylar, I know you wouldn’t lie about something like this.” Then, he turned to the girls: “Maliciously speculating about others, spreading harmful rumors, and then playing the victim by complaining first! Is this what you’re learning at school?!” The girls were completely dumbfounded. They had probably grown accustomed to using the same tactics against others. Now, faced with Mr. Finch’s sudden reversal, they instantly broke down. “Mr. Finch, you know us! We’ve never wronged or slandered any classmate! It’s her, she’s the one who–” “Alright, alright!” Mr. Finch waved his hand, cutting off their excuses impatiently. “In the past, I turned a blind eye a few times, considering your good grades. But now, Skylar has just transferred to our school, and she’s not well. Instead of helping and looking after a new classmate, you’re brazenly slandering her! It’s completely unacceptable!” Mr. Finch looked utterly righteous. “You three, apologize to Skylar immediately, or I’ll have to call your parents to school for a serious discussion!” “No, Mr. Finch, please don’t call our parents!” The girls cried out in panicked helplessness. The three of them glared at me resentfully. Judging by their furious expressions, they were probably wondering what magic potion I’d given Mr. Finch. Girls who were used to ruling the roost in the ivory tower of high school. This was probably their first encounter with a “pay-to-win player” like me. 7 Ultimately, the girls, unwillingly and grudgingly, were forced by Mr. Finch to apologize to me. Mr. Finch would, of course, side with me. After all, to ensure my comfortable schooling, my parents had, without a second thought, agreed to renovate the school’s athletic fields, donated two academic buildings and a science lab, and, fearing I might not eat well, even arranged for a dozen star chefs for the school cafeteria. Even the ingredient procurement had a dedicated team. Oh, and this morning before heading to school, I heard my parents discussing plans to replace all the school’s desks and chairs with more ergonomic ones. Was I a normal student? Clearly, I was the school’s cherished benefactor. Let alone the homeroom teacher, even if they complained to the grade head, the principal, or even the superintendent. Who among them would dare to say a single bad word about me? On the way back to the classroom from the office, the few girls walked distinctly on the other side. Nearing the door, Ruby suddenly stopped, her eyes fixed on me with resentment. “She must have used some underhanded trick to get Mr. Finch on her side! Just you wait, we’re not letting this go!” I shrugged, making no comment on her words. Even if she didn’t let it go, what could she do? Nothing but the usual isolation tactics. As for more severe physical bullying. I wasn’t being presumptuous, but just seeing how two sentences from Willow had silenced them, and how they only dared to complain about me, I knew that even without a nurse and bodyguards, they lacked the guts. The moment I entered the classroom, my gaze happened to meet Willow’s. She scoffed, rolled her eyes, and slumped onto her desk, clearly intending to take a nap. I gestured for Ben to push me over. Ben, though confused, strictly followed my parents’ instructions, always prioritizing me. As I reached Willow’s desk, I boldly tapped on the surface. Willow looked up, her eyes incredibly impatient, but when she saw who it was, surprise flickered across her face. But Willow, determined to maintain her rebel persona, still spoke harshly. “Got a problem?” 8 Facing Willow’s rude remark, I calmly nodded. “Yeah, why else would I be in a wheelchair?” Willow froze, completely dumbfounded. I smiled and leaned in closer: “Hey, thanks for sticking up for me earlier.” The girl, snapping out of her daze, rolled her eyes to cover her embarrassment. “What’s it got to do with you? I cursed them out purely because they were bothering my nap.” I ignored her bad temper, glancing at the English textbook on her desk. “Hey, next period is Mr. Finch’s math class. Even if you want to sleep, you should at least put out your math book, or he’ll find a reason to pick on you.” Willow’s expression grew even more impatient. She raised an eyebrow, sizing me up repeatedly. The class bell suddenly rang. Willow didn’t hesitate to dismiss me: “I’ll put out whatever book I please. No need for you to be nosy. Get lost!” Seeing the uncontrollable annoyance and embarrassment on her young, pretty face, I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. Just before Willow could lash out in fury, I gestured for Ben to push me back to my seat. On the way, passing Ruby’s desk, I overheard her nasty comment to her deskmate. “Birds of a feather, I guess. Trash belongs with trash. They’re a match made in hell!” I signaled Ben to stop, then turned to face Ruby with a blank expression. Ruby looked at me warily, warning: “What! I wasn’t talking about you! Don’t jump to conclusions!” I smiled faintly. Then, a second before Mr. Finch walked into the classroom, I quickly grabbed Ruby’s hand, twisted my body, and slammed myself onto the floor. Amidst the rising screams and gasps, I hit the ground hard. 9 For publicly assaulting a sick classmate, Ruby’s parents were called to school by Mr. Finch. Hearing I’d been bullied, Eleanor rushed to the school immediately. Upon seeing me in the infirmary, my arms and legs covered in fresh bruises, Eleanor’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. “Mrs. Albright…” Bypassing the Vice Principal who was trying to schmooze her, Eleanor rushed to my side. “Skylar, Skylar, are you okay? How did you get such serious injuries? It must hurt so much, doesn’t it? Tell me, who bullied you? Mommy won’t let them off easy!” Although I had used a self-inflicted injury to get Ruby a disciplinary record and sent home to reflect, The moment I saw Eleanor’s tears, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I’m sorry, for hurting your daughter’s body. “Mom,” I gently called her, “I’m fine, please don’t be sad…” With outsiders present, Eleanor quickly composed herself. She gently patted my shoulder twice, then stood up and turned to the flustered Vice Principal, her tone sharp and serious. “Vice Principal Miller, the school personally promised me they would create a 100% safe learning environment for Skylar. And since Skylar also expressed interest in attending here, Richard and I ultimately chose to enroll her. But now, less than a week after Skylar’s enrollment, something like this has happened, making me question whether your school can truly deliver on its promises. If not, we will transfer Skylar as soon as possible!” “We can!” The Vice Principal, sweating profusely, terrified of losing the financial backing, stated unequivocally. “Mrs. Albright, I guarantee you, absolutely nothing like this will happen again from now on!” Eleanor said nothing, only giving the man before her a cold, scrutinizing look. The atmosphere in the infirmary suddenly became suffocating. The Vice Principal’s sweat flowed even faster. He frantically wiped his brow while apologizing to Eleanor, swearing repeatedly. Finally, Eleanor glanced around the infirmary and asked, “Where is the student who pushed my daughter?” The Vice Principal quickly replied. “The school has already disciplined that student! Her parents have taken her home to reflect.” Seeing Eleanor frown, he added: “Of course, if you’d like to personally meet that student, we’ll contact her parents immediately and bring her to school!” After a moment of thought, Eleanor waved her hand. “Let’s leave it at this for now. If it happens again…” “No, no, don’t worry! Absolutely it won’t happen again!” 10 After dismissing the Vice Principal, Eleanor returned to the bedside, shedding the assertive demeanor she’d maintained for outsiders. “Skylar.” She gently stroked my hair, her voice trembling with lingering fear: “Do you really have to attend school? Your father and I are so worried your body won’t be able to handle it. Your last check-up report… ” Eleanor couldn’t continue, her eyes suddenly filled with a painful redness, and her hand, as it dropped, trembled uncontrollably. Everyone knew the truth. No matter how much money the Albright family could pour in, Skylar’s body was already at its limit, like a lamp running out of oil. When I first arrived, I saw from Skylar’s memories that, because her illness was congenital, her parents had taken her to countless hospitals since childhood. Domestic and international, they traveled to so many places. But all doctors gave the same exact answer. “Given current medical technology, all we can do is extend her life by a few years.” But no matter how much they extended it, Skylar had no chance of living past 20. “Mom,” I held Eleanor’s hand, trying to speak in a tone as normal as possible: “I know my body better than anyone. Please, just consider this my lifelong wish. I truly don’t want to be confined to a small hospital room until the very end.” Although, given the Albright family’s wealth, the hospital rooms Skylar had stayed in since childhood were more spacious and comfortable than most ordinary people’s homes. But no matter how spacious or luxurious, a hospital room was still just a hospital room. Skylar had suffered from being cooped up for too long; she dreamed of stepping out and seeing the world. She was just too thoughtful, not wanting her parents to worry, so she had always endured and restrained herself, never even taking a single step outside until she finally left this world. I admit that my insistence on attending Northwood High this time was because I had something I absolutely had to accomplish. But wasn’t this also Skylar’s wish? “Mom.” Seeing Eleanor didn’t want to talk about it, I smoothly changed the subject. “I found a really interesting girl at school. I really want to be friends with her, but she doesn’t seem to like me very much.” Sure enough, Eleanor’s attention was quickly diverted, and she listened as I recounted Willow’s story. 11 Clearly, my first interaction with Willow hadn’t fully captured her attention. But I wouldn’t be deterred by that. Even after returning home to recuperate for a few days and then going back to school, I continued my persistent efforts to approach her. “What now?” Under my relentless “harassment,” Willow had finally managed to patiently exchange a few words with me. I rested my crossed arms on her desk, my chin propped up. “Willow, this Saturday is my birthday. Do you want to come to my house to celebrate?” Willow’s tightly furrowed brow looked like it could crush walnuts. She pursed her lips, exasperated. “No, seriously, I don’t think we’re that close, are we? And who gave you permission to call me that?!” To me, her behavior was no different from a kitten throwing a tantrum. So I continued boldly. “But from the time you spoke up for me, I’ve considered you my friend!” I looked at her with eyes crinkled in a smile: “If I could have a friend as smart, pretty, and cute as you, I’d be the happiest girl in the world!” Willow’s eyes widened as if she’d seen a ghost. I pretended not to notice, carefully tugging at her oversized school uniform sleeve, begging humbly. “Please, please, come celebrate my birthday!” Willow impatiently ran a hand through her messy dark hair: “Fine, fine, fine! Just stop being crazy, and I’ll do whatever you want!” She’d already said it, how could I not press my advantage? “Okay, then let’s walk home together after school tonight!” Willow: “…” Though she didn’t say anything, just by looking at her expression, I knew she was cursing up a storm. To show my sincerity, I immediately placed several types of pastries, which I’d specifically asked the household cook to make yesterday, on her desk. “Willow, try these! They’re all your favorite flavors!” Willow looked at me suspiciously: “How do you know what flavors I like?” I chuckled mischievously. “Guess! I’ll tell you a secret: I know you better than you think.” Then Willow’s gaze at me turned into: “Are you, like, a total creep?”

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