Category: English

While walking my dog in the neighborhood, a handsome guy driving a Maybach asked if the dog was for sale. I said, “Not on his own.” He hesitated, looked at me for a few seconds, and drove off. Both the dog and I stared longingly at his receding taillights. I cursed in utter frustration, “I’ll sell him on his own! I’ll sell him on his own! Damn it! What a jerk, he wasn’t even serious about buying!” Who knew his car would actually come to a stop, and then the door opened… The dog instantly broke free from my grip and bolted right in. The handsome guy looked at dumbfounded me and asked, “Aren’t you going to bolt in too?” 01 Walking the dog around the neighborhood, my Samoyed, Yeti, was acting like a total maniac, sprinting with all his might! Holding the leash, I ran behind him, nearly dying of exhaustion. Then, as we ran to the busy road outside our subdivision, he suddenly stopped, staring at the endless stream of cars, drooling. We both stared together. Both of us dreaming of striking it rich. Yeti has this one specific trait: he is incredibly snobbish and materialistic. He absolutely loves luxury cars. Time and time again, he’s tried to climb into the passenger seat of high-end vehicles, ready to abandon me and live the good life. But I keep a tight grip on him. I’ve never let him succeed. 02 Right now, he was gazing eagerly at those luxury cars, looking utterly pathetic and wronged. We live in a standard middle-class complex. Across the street is a high-end gated community. There’s also a massive area of luxury estates nearby, so there are a ton of high-end cars around. I said to Yeti, “Yeti, stop looking. I’m definitely not letting you go off and live the good life without me.” He rolled his eyes at me. I chuckled to myself. It was like he actually understood what I was saying. I tugged his leash. “Let’s go. To the park. We still have to run a lap around the park today.” He wouldn’t budge. Suddenly, a Mercedes-Maybach S680 Haute Voiture pulled up right in front of us. 03 Both Yeti and I were completely stunned by the magnificent car. And then we were stunned again by the incredibly handsome, almost ethereally beautiful face behind the lowering window! Holy crap. Nowadays, guys can actually drive Maybachs just on their looks alone. What excuse did Yeti and I have for not trying harder! People who are better looking than you are working even harder than you. I made a decision. When I got back, I was giving Yeti a full grooming makeover. The handsome guy slowly exhaled a smoke ring, looking from me to Yeti. Yeti and I were both watching him with buzzing excitement. I was even thinking about how to get his number—maybe he could introduce me to a single, rich, handsome friend. While the two of us and the dog were in this standoff, the handsome guy spoke first. “Hey beautiful, is the dog for sale?” 04 Yeti was so excited he started chasing his own tail on the spot, completely losing his mind with joy. He whined, trying to act cute for the guy, then barked loudly at me, pulling with all his might to break the leash. I was furious. I raised this dog for nothing. But I put on my gentlest, most charming smile. “Not on his own.” I pointed to the dog, then to myself. “It has to be a package deal.” Handsome Guy: “Tying sales is an unfair business practice. It violates antitrust laws.” He looked like he was ready to step on the gas and leave. In a moment of desperation, I let out a loud ‘Woof!’ and asked, “Handsome, which one do you want to buy?” Yeti was utterly enraged. He started barking furiously at me, cursing me out in filthy dog language. I pretended not to hear him. The handsome guy shook his head, rolled up the window, and gorgeously… drove off! 05 Yeti and I were completely dumbfounded. He stopped barking. I stopped being a smartass. We watched the Maybach’s taillights, feeling like even the exhaust fumes it emitted carried the sweet fragrance of money. This was the closest we had ever been to true wealth. Once I snapped out of it, I immediately started yelling at the car that was already far away: “I’ll sell him on his own! On his own! Damn it! What a jerk, he wasn’t even serious about buying!” “Son of a bitch, does he think he can just brush me off because he’s good-looking? Does he think I only care about his money? Pfft! I’m definitely not a gold digger!” “Even if God gave me another chance, I would still firmly say—” The car slowly came to a stop again. Just then, a city bus pulled up in front of me, and the driver yelled out, “Miss, no dogs allowed on the bus.” I looked over and realized the Maybach had just stopped right in the bus lane… I stuck my tongue out, apologized to the bus driver, and quickly chased after Yeti. 06 The handsome guy opened the passenger door, and Yeti instantly bolted inside. I wanted to bolt in too, but an 80-pound large dog was already sitting in the passenger seat. There was no room left for me. The guy opened the driver’s door and got out. Wow. Not only did he have a gorgeous face, but he was also really tall. Nowadays, the standards for marrying a sugar daddy are getting really high. How could I possibly pull that off! The handsome guy looked at me and smiled. When he smiled, it was absolutely soul-stealing. I said firmly, “Bro, I’ll sell him alone. Just him. Let me know where you live, I can come with you and stay with him for a bit so he can get adjusted. Let’s exchange numbers, I can text you all his habits and routines.” Handsome Guy: “Emma Davis, do you really not recognize me?” My eyes went as wide as saucers. I actually didn’t remember such a handsome classmate. I really wanted to slap myself across the face. Come on, stupid brain, think! Who exactly is he? I put on a face of sudden realization, exclaiming with pleasant surprise, “Oh! It’s you! Oh my god, I didn’t expect it to be you! What a coincidence, running into you here! Good lord!” He was also pleasantly surprised: “I really didn’t expect to run into you right after moving back!” 07 I asked, “Oh my god, you graduated and moved back? You’re doing great!” He smiled: “Not as good as you. You got such great grades. Even if you didn’t go out of state, you still got into a great university.” It seemed he was a high school classmate whose grades weren’t as good as mine. No wonder I didn’t recognize him. Who is this guy? I racked my brain, then asked, “So, are you working now?” He thought for a moment and said, “I guess you could say that.” I warmly invited him: “Then hurry up and get into the grind. The economy is ‘great’ right now, you can even work on weekends. A thousand bucks for a whole week of work. We really picked a fantastic time to join the workforce.” He started laughing out loud: “You’re still as cute as ever.” ??? Who is he? Even after dragging the unsold Yeti back home, I still hadn’t remembered who he was. Did he get plastic surgery? I need to ask which plastic surgery clinic he went to. It was way too successful. I had absolutely zero impression of him. 08 Luckily, we exchanged numbers and added each other on socials. But his profile showed we had actually added each other a few years ago. Back then, I had just gone off to college, gained my freedom, and was extremely guarded. I rejected all requests from strangers. He had actually requested to follow me several times. Oh my god, I really was an ignorant, self-righteous little nun back then. I searched his name on my contacts and, sure enough, he was in the high school alumni group chat. But not in my specific homeroom group. It seemed he was a classmate from the same graduating class. I quickly took a screenshot of his profile and sent it to my best friend, Sarah, asking who he was. Sarah replied instantly: “Whoa, how did you get curious about him?” Me: “??? Is he a big deal? Do I know him?” I told her about running into him today. Sarah laughed for a good while before saying, “He was a total legend at our school! But back then, you only cared about studying, so even if I told you, you wouldn’t have paid attention.” So I didn’t know him, right? Turns out he was Oliver Stone from the AP Honors track. 09 I knew his name, but I had never seen the guy in person. In our high school, students were split into different tracks. I was in the standard college prep track. Back then, I had heard rumors about Oliver Stone. They were always about how ridiculously good-looking he was, how rich his family was, or gossip about girls obsessing over him. I never heard anything about his grades being amazing. After all, back then I was obsessed with my GPA. If someone wasn’t in the top 20 of our graduating class, I didn’t bother knowing them. Know your enemy, know yourself, and you will win a hundred battles, right? Plus, if people’s grades are similar, you have more to talk about, like discussing difficult test questions. And after graduation, I actually kept in touch with those top students quite a bit. As for other people, I really wasn’t interested. My parents were also very strict about my friends back then. If I hung out with kids who didn’t have good grades, my parents would scold me, ground me, and confiscate my phone. If I hung out with kids who had straight A’s, my parents were completely fine with it. At that time, I was at an age where I would scoff at handsome guys, thinking they were a distraction that ruined ambition. I thought, what was the use of being good-looking? What mattered was studying hard and getting into a top-tier college. And when classmates gossiped, I didn’t like to listen. I thought it was a waste of time. I’d rather go do a few practice tests. I was quite arrogant, thinking I was refined and above it all, not like those busybodies who loved to gossip about who liked who. Looking back now, I really was a total fun-killer, completely brainwashed by the system. 10 The next day, Oliver sent me a message: “Want to walk the dog?” I looked at his message, biting my finger and giggling like an idiot. I had already started dreaming that because we walked dogs together, we would fall in love over time, he would finally marry me, my dowry would be a dog, and we would live happily ever after. But my mom shattered my dream with a smack to the arm. She snapped angrily, “Hurry up and put your makeup on. Stop dawdling. The older you get, the more trouble you are.” Today was Sunday. My mom was taking me on a blind date. It was the nephew of a colleague at her government agency. He also worked a stable civil service job. I chose a photo of Yeti and sent it to Oliver, then replied: “I have to head out right now. No time to walk him.” He replied instantly: “Then I’ll walk him for you?” I looked at Yeti’s silly, blank expression and considered the very real possibility of him being dognapped. My worry for Yeti won over my desire for extreme wealth. I said, “Tomorrow. I’ll walk him tomorrow and come find you. Around 6:15 to 7:15 PM.” He replied instantly: “Sounds good.” After thinking about it, I added: “Don’t feed him for half an hour before the walk. When he gets the zoomies, I’m afraid he’ll run you so hard you’ll throw up.” 11 The blind date was manageable. By the book, and he was very enthusiastic. My mom was quite satisfied with his family’s background. His mom had passed away, and his dad had some influence and could probably pull strings to get me a promotion down the line. Both our families only had one child. If we got married, with family subsidies and both of us working stable government jobs, it would be a divine, stress-free life. At least, that’s how my mom pitched it to me. I shrugged and thought it wasn’t bad either. Except for the fact that his incredibly average face didn’t spark any romantic feelings whatsoever. A marriage like this always felt like it was missing a little something. My mom said to me, “What’s the use of a man being good-looking! You can’t eat a handsome face. You just need someone average-looking. That’s the kind of guy who will be honest and settle down to live a quiet life with you.” I didn’t understand what kind of “quiet life” I was supposed to be settling down for. And, who says a man’s good looks are useless? Oliver Stone was driving an S680! Well, although it was his family’s money. But even if he didn’t have money, with that face, I’d be willing to pay for his meals. 12 After work the next day, I rode my electric scooter home, then put Yeti on his leash to meet Oliver at the subdivision entrance. He arrived before us, wearing a white casual athleisure outfit. He even brought dog treats for Yeti. Yeti was instantly bought and paid for. I asked him, “Do you live around here?” He pointed to a luxury estate a few blocks down: “Over there. Just moved in recently.” I was so envious I was practically drooling. I said, “It must be so nice to be your dog, living in a mansion.” He smiled, looking radiant and handsome. He said, “Why don’t you say it would be nice to be my girlfriend or wife?” I scratched my head: “Didn’t you want to buy the dog?” He took the leash from my hand. “I also want to find a girlfriend.” “Are you single?” His eyes went wide. “If I wasn’t single, would I be hitting on you?” I still held onto my original point: “Didn’t you want to buy the dog?” “So you really want to be sold to me along with Yeti?” He thought for two seconds. “Why don’t you name a price?” And then we both started laughing. After laughing, my face turned beet red. I was actually shy. 13 I originally thought this was a great opportunity to cultivate some romance with a handsome guy. I had to be gentle, sweet, and approachable. But as soon as we got to the park, Yeti acted like a rabid dog, running like an absolute maniac! Oliver was caught off guard and nearly got dragged face-first into the dirt. I quickly grabbed the leash back, running with Yeti. My voice drifted back in the wind: “Hurry up and keep up!” And then the two of us were sprinting wildly after Yeti. Every now and then, I would angrily yell: “Yeti Davis! You’re running so fast, you’re going to kill your mother!” “Yeti Davis! I’m going to sell you!” He just ran even happier. In the park, it should have been a handsome guy and a pretty girl walking a dog, looking like a picture-perfect couple enjoying a leisurely stroll. But the reality was, the three of us were running so fast it looked like we were being chased by ghosts… By the end, my hair was a complete rat’s nest looking like a madwoman, and I sat panting heavily on the grass. Yeti flopped onto his back beside me, limbs splayed, demanding I rub his belly. Oliver also sat beside me, wiping the sweat from his face. “I didn’t expect that when you said ‘walking the dog’, this is what it looked like.” Yeti let out an ‘a-woo’, his tongue lolling out, looking at me with total innocence. I petted him. “Yeah. He thinks taking a leisurely stroll down a tree-lined path is beneath him.” “So you have to walk him like this every day?” “My parents are getting older. They absolutely cannot handle him. But when my younger cousin comes over, he helps walk him.” 14 Once we had rested enough, we walked back to my neighborhood. At the entrance, we happened to run into my dad coming home from work. I called out ‘Dad’, and Oliver called out, “Hello, Mr. Davis. I’m Oliver Stone.” My dad sized Oliver up, then said enthusiastically, “Oh, Oliver! Come on, come over to our place for dinner.” I stared at my dad in utter shock. I didn’t expect my dad to be so warm and welcoming to him. Oliver didn’t stand on ceremony either. He said, “Then I’d be honored.” My mom looked at Oliver and asked, “Arthur, did you bring a new intern home again?” My dad works as an engineer for a government contractor and often brings new hires home. My dad said, “Isn’t this the blind date you set Emma up with?” I quickly said, “Not the blind date. He’s a customer who wants to buy Yeti.” Oliver chimed in: “I’m Emma’s high school classmate. We just recently reconnected.” 15 The atmosphere got slightly awkward. But before long, my mom was enthusiastically inviting him inside, and then the demographic interrogation began. Finally, my mom let out a slightly disappointed sigh. This made everyone’s hearts jump into their throats. She concluded: “Let’s eat, let’s eat. Does my cooking suit your taste, Oliver?” Oliver quickly said, “I love this kind of home-cooked food.” My mom said, “Then eat up. Even if the dog sale doesn’t work out, we can still be friends.” Me: ??? Yeti and I looked at each other. He was busy eating the kibble in his bowl, rolling his dead fish eyes, and letting out a pitiful whine. After dinner, Oliver left. My mom said to me, “Sigh, he’s just a little too good-looking. When a man is this handsome, the amount of women throwing themselves at him is definitely not normal. It’s not safe! Better to stick with honest, average guys. Noah is much more reliable.” She added, “His family background is also a little too good. Although our family isn’t bad, it would definitely be reaching out of our league. Tsk tsk tsk, not a matched pair!” I also went “tsk tsk tsk” twice. 16 Because he lived close by, Oliver would come walk the dog with me every few days. He even sent premium groceries over to our house three times: once a whole cooler of fresh seafood, once imported fruit, and once high-end steaks. Every time, the amount was so huge we couldn’t finish it, so my mom had no choice but to give some away to the neighbors. Because of this, whenever my mom cooked something delicious, she’d have me call him over to eat. We truly became neighbors. I was also still chatting with my blind date, Noah. Although every time we texted, we’d run out of things to say in less than 10 messages. Over the weekend, I was shopping at the mall with Sarah, and we happened to see Noah arguing and grabbing at a girl. The girl was crying, pulling on Noah and accusing him: “You need to explain this to me! We dated for 7 years! Now you say we’re breaking up just like that, is that fair to me?!”

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When Aaron proposed we break up for the Nth time, I was pulling an all-nighter finishing a quarterly performance review. “Maya, you have 20 minutes to get down to the club and apologize. Otherwise, we are done.” I immediately felt a wave of exhaustion. “This review is crucial for my promotion. Can you please throw a tantrum some other day?” He replied casually, “Tantrum? If your job is more important to you than me, then let’s break up.” “Fine, you know I’m petty.” “It only takes one phone call from me to make sure you never get that promotion.” I forcefully slammed my phone down, but a row of floating text—like comments on a live stream—suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You don’t think the female lead is actually going to take the male lead’s harsh words seriously, do you? He’s actually planning to surprise her; he secretly pulled strings to guarantee her promotion ages ago.] [As long as the female lead shows she’s willing to sacrifice her career for him, the male lead would hand over the CEO position to her. He’d never bear to ruin her future.] [Us folks with an avoidant attachment style are just like this! We say we don’t want it, but we secretly crave it. We just rely on our partner holding on for dear life.] [The male lead is literally standing by the door right now, waiting for the female lead to take a cab over and coax him. This angsty, bittersweet romance is so addictive.] I was skeptical, half-tempted to go out and find him. Then, a text popped up. “I heard Ms. Maya’s promotion is off the table. Interested in jumping ship?” 01 I stared at the bizarre message, thinking hard. After confirming it wasn’t a prank text, I still had no clue who this person with the little wing emoji next to their name could be. Was it an alt account Aaron made to test me? But immediately, I dismissed that idea. Aaron was too arrogant; he’d never stoop to testing me like that. In our ten years together, I was always the one to yield and compromise first. We’d played out this exact scenario—me taking a cab to win him back—countless times. My unwavering favoritism had always made him feel completely secure. So who sent the message? The floating comments instantly provided the answer. [The male lead’s nemesis is actually trying to steal his girl! He just overheard the male lead making that call while hiding in the bar’s restroom. As soon as he walked out, he contacted the female lead. He moves fast.] [Not only is the female lead the male lead’s lover, she’s also a key talent at Sterling Corp. Of course Carter is going to try to poach her while competing for the CEO spot.] [To the person above, are you telling me Carter, the arrogant CEO who spends every night fantasizing about venting his frustrations with the female lead, isn’t doing this out of personal interest?] I narrowed my eyes. So it was Carter. In the last bidding war, I led the team that beat Carter’s company. At the evening reception, people urged us to exchange contact info to facilitate future business communications. At the time, he didn’t even spare me a glance. I stood next to him, my smile almost freezing on my face, before he finally, with a cold expression, handed over his phone to scan my QR code. I originally thought he would delete my contact as soon as he got home; I didn’t expect him to keep it. But I only half-believed what the comments were saying. Aaron never hid our relationship, but in public, he always maintained the icy demeanor of a superior. To an uninformed observer, in his eyes, I was just a corporate drone making a measly salary. That’s why Carter loved to mock Aaron. “Finding a drone who will sleep with you for free… Mr. Sterling truly is an outstanding businessman.” Carter looked down on me. His extending an olive branch to me now looked suspiciously like an attempt to disgust Aaron. I ignored his message. Then, I saw a voice message from Aaron’s assistant. “Maya, please hurry over. Mr. Sterling is drunk and refuses to leave.” He also sent a video of Aaron throwing a fit. I hesitated for a moment. I was just about to change my clothes and head out when I stopped dead in my tracks. Yes, Chloe’s coquettish laugh clearly rang out at the 30-second mark of the video. [The male lead is pulling this stunt again. To make the female lead nervous, he intentionally called the second female lead over.] [Who can blame him? The female lead always falls for it. Every time he scares her like this, she loses her mind with worry.] [Hurry up and go out, female lead! I swear on my premium membership, as long as you’re willing to go over there, apologize, and coax him, tonight he’ll be on his knees waiting for your little leather whip.] [I understand the male lead so well. Seeing his girlfriend in utter agony because he threatened to break up makes him feel incredibly powerful. It makes him feel like she loves him so much.] I froze. So the floating comments really weren’t a hallucination. The “female lead” they were talking about was me, and the “male lead” was Aaron. Aaron did exactly what they said—always threatening to break up, waiting for me to win him back. If I didn’t go, he would find all sorts of ways to have people around us pressure me. But if I did go, he wouldn’t immediately soften up either. Last time, I took an overnight Amtrak train just to coax him. I pushed open the door, travel-worn and exhausted, and he didn’t even look at me. Instead, he pressed himself tightly against Chloe. “Who told you guys to call her here? Weren’t you being so tough, insisting on breaking up?” But the very next second, his body honestly betrayed him; he immediately stuck to me and held my hand to leave. That night, he kept me up making love seven times. The next day, he overcompensated by buying me designer bags and booking trips. I once asked him, if he tortured me like this, wasn’t he afraid I’d run away? He rested his head against my collarbone and acted spoiled. “My wife would never leave me over something so small.” “Maya, as long as you take one step towards me, I will always take the remaining 99 steps towards you.” But what he didn’t know was that being constantly tortured like this… I didn’t even want to take a single step anymore. This kind of exhausting love, I didn’t have the energy for it anymore. Seeing that I hadn’t replied, his assistant kept calling to rush me. I hesitated, debating whether to coax him one more time. Just then, Chloe sent me a message. “Aaron said you don’t need to come; he’s going to stay and watch the sunrise with me!” She sent a short video clip. “Aaron, Maya still isn’t here. Are you really going to break up with her?” Aaron took a huge gulp of liquor. “We’re done. Don’t mention her.” “Haven’t you always said you wanted me to watch the sunrise with you? Let’s go.” From the corner of his eye, he glanced at the camera lens. Obviously, he knew Chloe was recording. I took a deep breath and forcefully tossed my phone aside. I went back to optimizing my performance review presentation. Rather than believing the comments claiming Aaron had already secretly secured my promotion, I’d rather rely on my own abilities. I wasn’t like Aaron or Chloe, born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Poor as I was, I had to rely on myself to seize every opportunity. 02 Aaron didn’t come home all night. I also suffered from insomnia the entire night. The next day, when I walked into the office with a heavy heart, Aaron had arrived early. Impeccably dressed, completely unsmiling. The oppressive aura of the CEO radiated from him, overwhelming everything else. He was like a completely different person from the childish, erratic man he was last night. I nervously finished my presentation. When it ended, he applauded along with everyone else. The look he gave me could even be called calm and friendly. I was puzzled. Could it be that because I didn’t coax him, he was actually fine now? After the meeting ended, I noticed a small gift on everyone’s desk. The CFO next to me had stars in her eyes. “Wow, having a CEO boyfriend is so great. His girlfriend gets promoted, and he gives everyone a gift.” The administrative assistant cleared her throat. “This is from the new Executive Assistant. It’s a ‘nice to meet you’ gift for everyone.” The CFO was shocked. “A limited-edition perfume as a ‘nice to meet you’ gift for everyone?” “What kind of new method is this for trust-fund kids to flex on corporate drones?!” The administrative assistant shot me an uneasy glance. She quietly pulled the CFO aside: “The new assistant is the only daughter of our major client, the White family.” “Mr. Sterling paid for the gifts. He said he was helping his childhood friend make a good impression.” So it was Chloe. I understood instantly. Chloe had always wanted to use working at Sterling Corp as an excuse to get close to Aaron. The White family had also repeatedly proposed an alliance, hoping the two of them would marry to join forces. Because of me, Aaron had always refused to agree. But after one night, he actually consented. He even let her work in the executive suite as his personal assistant. A position that even I, as his official girlfriend, wasn’t allowed to hold. I tried my hardest not to think about what had happened between them last night. I opened a file, preparing to focus on work. A colleague told me Aaron needed to see me. I happened to need to see him too, so I headed straight for the executive suite. As soon as I walked in, I saw Chloe sitting on Aaron’s desk, her back to me. Her slim waist, accentuated by a tight pencil skirt, was resting loosely against Aaron’s hand. A sharp pain shot through my palm. I never thought the day would come when I’d see Aaron being so intimate with someone else. I let out a light cough, startling Chloe so much she jumped away. Chloe turned around and saw it was me. The smile instantly vanished from her face. She pouted: “You’ve worked here for years, don’t you know you need to knock before entering a room?” I was slightly taken aback. Entering Aaron’s office, I had never considered knocking. “Excuse me. Next time you guys are doing something inconvenient, remember to lock the door.” Aaron had been waiting to see me lose my temper. Hearing my words, his expression shifted slightly. But his face remained remarkably calm. “Did you need something, Mr. Sterling?” He answered calmly, “Your promotion has been tabled by the board of directors for now.” Chloe shot me a victorious look. I looked down at my toes and gave a small “Hmm.” He really didn’t lie to me. Just because I didn’t coax him, he reached out and halted my promotion. My chest felt like it was being crushed by a boulder, making it hard to breathe. My eyes involuntarily stung with unshed tears. Thankfully, I had the heads-up from the floating comments. Right now, I could still force myself to maintain composure. “Oh, understood.” Neither of us spoke; the atmosphere was dead silent. “If you want to fight for it…” I interrupted him, “I don’t. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving.” I quickly turned around, but he called out to stop me. “Also, the Chicago project will be handled by Chloe from now on. You don’t need to worry about it. Do a handover with her today.” I whipped my head back around. “What did you say?” I had spent six grueling months preparing for the Chicago project, going without a day off for months just for it. At one point, the pressure was so intense I had to take a handful of pills every night just to get a few hours of sleep. This project was my hope. I wanted to use it to show everyone my capabilities. So they wouldn’t just think of me as someone who climbed the ladder through nepotism by dating Aaron. Aaron knew about my obsession with it. He even secretly helped me secure resources and played a supporting role. Seeing that the project was on the verge of success, he was actually telling me to hand it over to Chloe! “Chloe just joined the company; she needs a project to establish her footing.” “The Chicago project has high visibility and is about to show results. It’s perfect for her to practice on.” I fought back tears and asked him, “You know perfectly well this project is my life.” “Why are you treating me like this!” He laughed vindictively. “I told you, I’m petty and I hold grudges.” “Besides, I’m the boss. I don’t need your permission to assign a project to someone.” “If you’re not satisfied, you’re welcome to resign anytime.” Chloe covered her mouth and giggled. I looked at them both coldly. One reveling in my misfortune, the other exuding absolute calm. Both were certain I wouldn’t bear to let go. “Fine, then I resign.” Aaron’s smile vanished. He stared at me in disbelief. He raised his voice. “Maya, don’t think that just because you’re my girlfriend, you have special privileges to throw a tantrum.” “Don’t think I really won’t let you leave!” I looked at him coldly. “Mr. Sterling must be so busy he forgot we broke up?” He choked on his words. Chloe, seeing the tension between us, couldn’t help but smirk. Then she put on a troubled act. “Aaron, let’s just forget it. Don’t fight over me.” She smiled provocatively. “I’m clumsy. What if I mess up the project and waste Manager Maya’s hard work?” He affectionately patted Chloe’s head. “It doesn’t matter if you mess it up. It’s a small project, nothing to worry about.” All the blood in my body rushed to my head. It took every ounce of strength I had to suppress the urge to charge forward and hit them. But my palms were already clenched so tightly they were bleeding. “A company that uses projects to curry favor with a woman isn’t worth staying at anyway. “Consider my years of hard work here as feeding the dogs.” Chloe angrily put her hands on her hips. “Who are you calling a dog?” I sneered. “Who the dog is, you know perfectly well.” “Maya!” Aaron’s face was livid. I turned around and left without looking back. 03 I walked back to my desk like a zombie. Only when no one was looking did my tears finally flood out. The comments appeared again. [The female lead is so foolish! Just now, the male lead was putting on an act specifically for you. The moment you left, he kicked Chloe out.] [The male lead just wanted to see her get jealous and soften up. He didn’t expect the female lead to be so incredibly stubborn, willing to resign just to prove a point.] [If you’re dating someone in power, you have to be willing to swallow your pride. She wants to stand tall and make money? You can’t have your cake and eat it too.] [The female lead has no sense of reality. Without this job, who’s going to pay the medical bills for her seriously ill mother? Can her pride be exchanged for cold, hard cash?] The comments were right. My mother’s illness relied entirely on astronomically expensive imported medication to keep her alive. The salary Aaron paid me had constantly supported my mother’s medication. If the prescription lapsed, my only remaining family member in this world would leave me. Just as my heart ached over the money, Aaron, in a rare move, initiated a text message. “Come over and apologize to Chloe, and I might consider giving the project back to you.” “I’ll also give you Sterling Corp’s new projects for the second half of the year.” “And your company credit card, come get it yourself.” This was Aaron’s first time backing down. The comments also pleaded on his behalf. [The male lead is finally willing to bow his head. Heaven knows how much this arrogant guy is struggling internally right now.] [Us avoidant-attachment folks are moved! Only if we love someone so much are we willing to bow our heads! Female lead, cherish this!] [Besides his ‘say one thing, mean another’ attitude, the male lead is rich, handsome, and deeply devoted. The female lead should cherish what she has and not push him away completely.] It’s true. Aaron, aside from being a drama king, was undeniably good to me. If I could just endure this one flaw, he could be considered an excellent boyfriend. But I still refused without hesitation. “I submitted my resignation letter to the HR Director today.” It took him a long time to reply: “Are you serious?” “Yes, don’t come begging me later.” “Don’t regret this later. You threw away a perfectly good relationship and job because of your stubbornness.” I buried my face in my desk and cried silently. I was heartbroken over our ten-year relationship, and I was reluctant to leave the job. But even more, I couldn’t accept Aaron treating me this way. He had a black hole in his heart regarding love, and every time he needed to fill it, he used the method of torturing me. I couldn’t see the end of this darkness. Nor could I make peace with it. Instead of being in constant pain, it was better if I was the one to end it. 04 I sent my resignation letter, then pulled up Carter’s contact on my phone. “Mr. Carter, is your offer still on the table?” He replied instantly: “It’s on the table, but Aaron’s girlfriend is excluded.” Me: “Already broken up, already resigned.”

I bought a queen-sized bed online but forgot to select the “assembly included” option. By mistake, I sent a message asking for help to my ex-boyfriend. He showed up without saying a word. After he finished putting it together, he told me to test it out to see if it was sturdy. “How am I supposed to test it?” He pulled me onto his lap: “You called me over. Didn’t you want to test it out with me?” This was incredibly awkward. I blushed and said, “You misunderstood. I broke this bed last night too.” 01 My bed collapsed in the middle of the night. I had picked out a queen-sized bed online. It was delivered the very next day. The massive boxes took up half my bedroom. I stared at my phone screen, speechless. [Dear customer, you didn’t select the “assembly included” service.] I had been in too much of a rush when I bought it. It was almost dark now, and there was no way I could book a handyman. I took a screenshot of the chat with customer service and forwarded it to the culprit from last night. “Can you come over and assemble the bed?” I also sent a picture of the bedroom. The other person typed for a long time before replying with seven words: “You’re asking me for this kind of thing?” Why shouldn’t I ask him? He was the one who broke it yesterday. “The sooner it’s put together, the sooner you can come sleep on it.” Two minutes later, the reply came. “Be there in fifteen.” Time flew by. The doorbell rang three times. I was wearing a lace nightgown, not even wearing slippers, when I went to open the door. Ethan appeared in the doorway, his gaze scrutinizing me. “You’re dressed like this to welcome your ex-boyfriend?” I stared at him in shock. Why was my ex-boyfriend here? 02 Ethan and I broke up about a year ago, right? I had sent the text to him by mistake. I blame these two men; they both use solid black profile pictures. “How much stuff did you put on this bed? It completely caved in.” Ethan was unboxing the delivery, chatting casually. “Just a lot of clothes, I guess.” I decided not to tell Ethan the real reason. Explaining a broken bed to an ex-boyfriend is just too weird. The AC was blasting, but assembling a queen-sized bed was seriously hard work. Ethan was sweating profusely. I accidentally caught a glimpse of his back. Under his soaked dress shirt, the lines of his physique were fully visible. Broad shoulders, lean waist. I took a sip of water and looked away. My ex was undeniably hot. But I broke up with him because he was just too boring. He was always busy with work, and he had zero imagination in bed. The same rigid missionary position, year after year. Lights out, not a single word spoken. He wouldn’t even let me call him “Dr. Hayes.” It was just too stifling. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I brought up breaking up right after we finished. Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, buttoning his shirt, silent for a moment. He didn’t even turn to look at me. “Are you serious?” “I’m serious.” Four words. And that was it. We were done. He was a man who was even boring when getting dumped. “All done.” My thoughts were pulled back to the present. He was surprisingly domesticated; he even made the bed. Ethan sat on the bed, hands resting on the edge, bouncing up and down slightly. The new bed creaked slightly with a somewhat suggestive sound. He tilted his head slightly, the corners of his lips curving up, and patted the spot next to him. “Try it out. Is it sturdy?” Is there something wrong with this guy? 03 I hesitantly sat down next to Ethan. Mimicking his bouncing, I forced myself to try it three or four times. Ethan seemed to be staring at me. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t lift my head. Was I crazy? Testing out a bed with my ex-boyfriend? “How am I supposed to test it?” I was about to get up and ask him to leave. But an arm wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me backward until I fell squarely onto someone’s slightly parted thighs. Warm breath drifted into my ear, tickling it faintly. “You called me over. Didn’t you want to test it out with me?” I hadn’t misunderstood his intentions. Ethan really had changed. He had learned how to seduce people. Even right now, beneath me, he had a very obvious reaction. My face was burning red. “You’ve misunderstood. I broke this bed last night too.” I just sent the message to the wrong person. Ethan didn’t seem to be listening to me. He just lightly rubbed the tip of his nose against the crook of my neck. “You said the sooner it’s put together, the sooner I can come sleep on it… Do you want to get back together?” I froze. Get back together with him? If he hadn’t suddenly shown up, I truly hadn’t considered it. But if I had to say I wanted to, it was only a thought I just had. Ethan grabbed both my legs and shifted me so I was straddling his lap sideways. He lowered his head slightly, his cool lips pressing against my forehead, moving to my cheek, my chin, my neck. I was kissed into a daze, my fingertips gripping his shirt sleeves tightly. I have to admit, Ethan’s kissing skills had improved dramatically. My phone, resting nearby, rang at the worst possible moment. A message popped up on the screen. “Hey, is the new bed set up? I’ll come check it out.” “I promise I won’t be so rough tonight.” I had one arm around Ethan and used the other hand to reply directly. “Not done yet. Don’t come.” Don’t come and ruin my good time. I turned off my phone, only to realize the man holding me had stopped moving. Ethan’s brow was deeply furrowed, and his hands had loosened their grip slightly. I was just about to lean in and kiss him. “Who is he?” He pressed two fingers against my forehead to hold me back. “How did your bed break?” I spread my hands and told the truth. “Just a younger guy. He was a bit too wild in bed, and this happened.” 04 The water in the bathroom was running loudly. Ethan had pushed me away earlier and went to take a shower. It took him a long time to come out. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window on the balcony, wearing only a white towel around his waist, waiting for his clothes in the dryer. “Are you planning to leave?” I couldn’t understand him again. Wasn’t he just about to do that with me? Ethan looked up coldly: “What do you think?” He seemed to be angry. But who offended him? I hesitated for a long time, then looked down at my phone. “Then I’ll transfer you some money. Thanks for your hard work today.” A voice call from Carter came through. I answered it casually: “Yeah, fine, you can come over tonight. Right, it’s all set.” I hung up. I don’t know when, but Ethan was suddenly standing right in front of me, staring at me bizarrely. “How did you become this kind of person?” “What kind of person am I?” “I just finished setting up the bed, I don’t even have my clothes back on, and you’re already telling someone else to come over?” I glanced at the timer on the dryer. “It’ll take him half an hour to get here. You’ll be gone in fifteen minutes tops. You won’t even cross paths.” Ethan stared fixedly at me, his lips pressed into a tight line, and let out a cold scoff. I understood now— Did he want to do something with me, but felt it was being interrupted by an outsider? Or did he feel I wasn’t taking the initiative enough, ruining his mood? After all, Ethan was very conservative about that kind of thing. I cleared my throat: “Then I’ll make up an excuse and tell him not to come back tonight. What do you think?” That was giving him plenty of respect. The dryer chimed. Ethan’s expression stiffened. He hurriedly put on his shirt and looked down to pull on his pants. “Let me tell you, Chloe. You’ve got the wrong guy.” This was ridiculous. My pride couldn’t take it either. “I don’t know where you’re getting this virgin-martyr act from.” Ethan choked on his words. His face was dark as he opened the door to leave, but he stopped dead in his tracks. Carter, who was just about to knock, was clearly stunned. “Dr. Hayes? What are you doing here?” “Carter?” Ethan frowned. “You guys know each other?” 05 “Hey, aren’t I just starting my residency?” Carter said. “Dr. Hayes is my attending physician.” Ethan is a doctor. Carter is a med student. I definitely hadn’t expected that Ethan would be Carter’s mentor. He looked back at me, then asked Carter: “So, you live here with her?” “Yeah. It’s super close to the hospital, makes commuting a breeze.” Ethan’s expression grew even darker. He used to live here too, before I kicked him out. Carter looked back and forth between me and Ethan. “Dr. Hayes, what brings you over?” Ethan maintained a bizarre silence. I spoke up for him: “Um, he’s the handyman who came to set up the bed. He just finished.” Maybe it was too humiliating, but Ethan practically fled the scene. Carter stood there, bewildered. “The youngest attending physician in the entire hospital, and you called him over to assemble a bed?” “He was eager to do it.” I was annoyed. Carter looked down and sighed. “Did my mentor… walk off wearing my slippers?” That pair of men’s loafers was sitting neatly by the door. I wanted to message Ethan on WhatsApp, but he had actually blocked me. Carter put down the can of wet food. After a while, Mimi poked her head out. Yesterday, Mimi had dragged a bug onto the bed. Carter spent the entire night trying to catch it, and ended up stomping the bed until it collapsed. Carter felt terrible about it. I was very calm: “I’m taking it out of your security deposit.” When night fell, I tossed and turned, completely unable to sleep. Carter let out a screech from the bathroom. “Fuck, the water is freezing!” Ethan must have taken a cold shower this afternoon. Knowing Ethan had blocked me, I sent a weird message to his number just to vent. “Dr. Hayes handled it himself manually and just left me hanging? What a jerk.” It was pure, sexually frustrated resentment. Message sent. Delivered successfully. I froze, then immediately unsent it. This guy had unblocked me. Did he see it? I guiltily probed: “Just letting you know, you left your shoes at my place.” A barrage of messages from Ethan popped up. “I saw it.” “I’m not coming over.” “Don’t send me that kind of stuff in the middle of the night.” “Carter is my student.” He saw it. Was he in his post-nut clarity phase? His tone was so cold. And so what if he’s his student? 06 Carter had just finished showering and grabbed some crawfish takeout, calling me out for a late-night snack. I sent Ethan a message. “Got it. Carter’s calling me. Can’t chat with you now.” My hands were busy peeling crawfish, so I couldn’t reply to messages. By the time we finished, it was almost 11 PM. Only then did I see the message Ethan had sent two hours ago. “I’m redundant. The bed was just set up; it might not be safe to go too hard on it.” Ethan really was a good mentor, caring so much about Carter’s well-being. I replied directly: “Just saw your message. I’ll tell him to be careful.” The screen showed “typing…”. He was typing for a really long time. I waited earnestly for his reply. To my surprise, Ethan initiated a video call. I was in the bathroom, washing my hands under the faucet. My face appeared on the phone screen. My entire face was flushed red from the spicy crawfish, and my lips were slightly swollen. I hurriedly turned off the water. Ethan stared at me intently, his gaze sharp and piercing, with a hint of cold fury. “He spent two hours with you… and you still want more? Come out and join me for round two?” 07 I checked the time. It was almost midnight. Going out for a late-night snack with my ex at this hour? “No thanks, I’m full.” Ethan sat in a single armchair, tilting his head back, his fingers dragging through his hair in frustration. “Full? Good for you. You really just treat me like a tool.” His phone seemed to be resting on the coffee table. The camera angle pointed upward, so it didn’t capture Ethan’s face. It only showed his long, powerful legs, his pale wrists, his slightly raised chin, and his sharp Adam’s apple. What kind of weird female-gaze angle was this? It was like I was kneeling right in front of him. I didn’t hear a word he said; I was just busy silently taking screenshots. “Hey, who are you video chatting with?” Carter walked past the door, his eyes landing on my phone screen. “No one.” I guiltily hung up. Living with a young guy, you have to maintain strict boundaries, lest he get the idea of paying rent in trade. Carter crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, looking highly amused. “I saw you taking screenshots. You really should find a boyfriend instead of chatting up cam boys online.” I shook the water off my hands: “He’s not a cam boy, he’s…” He’s your attending physician. Kids these days, so rude. Carter raised an eyebrow: “Is he your boyfriend, then?” “No, just a friend.” I walked past him. Carter stepped aside to let me through. “What kind of ‘friend’?” he asked brazenly. “The kind where you video chat without seeing his face, only his crotch?” “Can you not be so vulgar?” If it weren’t for his sister, I would have told him to get the hell out immediately. His sister is my direct supervisor. “Careful, don’t let anyone record you…” Carter gave me a meaningful look. What did he think I was talking about with that guy? Is everyone’s head in the gutter these days? He suddenly leaned in close and blinked. “If you have needs, why not come to me? I’m young, clean, and I won’t charge you.” 08 “Thanks, but no thanks.” I had absolutely zero interest in my boss’s younger brother. Even if I did have needs, I had someone else in mind. “He ran into you just now. I’m back in my room now. Still want to video chat?” I lay on my bed and texted Dr. Hayes. “Are you guys… fighting because of me?” “What fight? You’re overthinking it. He didn’t even recognize it was you.” “Oh.” The conversation was abruptly cut off. No matter what else I sent, Ethan wouldn’t reply. I was fuming at my phone. Over the next few days, Carter became incredibly busy, getting off work at 2 AM every day. I subtly asked him: “Is Dr. Hayes this busy too?” “The old man is a workaholic with no personal life. He’s always breathing down my neck, making me work. It’s like he has a grudge against me.” Carter was so exhausted he was having paranoid delusions. Thinking he and Ethan were friends, he asked me to put in a good word for him indirectly. I texted Ethan. “Dr. Hayes, it’s fine if you want to overwork yourself, but can’t you let your students leave on time?” Ethan was very cold. “It’s just work.” Two minutes later, he sent another message. “I didn’t make things difficult for him.” I hadn’t actually planned on standing up for Carter; it was just an excuse to chat with him. “I know you’re not that kind of person.” Ethan: “…” He sent back an ellipsis. Half a month later, I went to the hospital because my hormones were out of whack. The female doctor asked about the frequency of my sexual activity over the past three months. I massaged my temples helplessly: “Half a month ago, I made out with someone. Does that count?” Of course not. She politely suggested I just needed a good night’s sleep. Standing in the hospital elevator, I fell deep into thought. Who should I sleep with? The elevator doors slowly opened, and a crowd of doctors rushed in, squeezing me into the back corner. Ethan, wearing his white coat, stood in front of a group of interns. His expression was serious and cold, exuding a powerful aura. Carter was right behind him, eyes closed, yawning. Compared to Ethan’s elite vibe, Carter was completely overshadowed. My gaze drifted over the crowd and landed on the man’s striking profile. Wasn’t this the universe delivering a pillow right when I was sleepy? He clearly had feelings for me last time. I texted him. “Dr. Hayes, that thing we didn’t finish last time… want to pick up where we left off?” Ethan looked down at his phone, his eyes narrowing slightly, and immediately locked the screen. He glanced back, looking terrified of being caught, acting incredibly guilty. Ethan in “work mode” was indescribably cute. My playful side flared up. “Dr. Hayes, I’m not feeling well. Should I come to the hospital for a checkup?” Ethan glanced down, discreetly shifting two steps away from Carter. “What’s wrong?” I watched him, smirking as I typed. “My whole body aches.” “I want to book an appointment with Dr. Hayes.” “Can you give me a thorough, inside-and-out examination?” “Maybe the doctor knows better than the patient where it hurts.” Ethan awkwardly cleared his throat, stood sideways in silence, and clutched his phone to his chest. “Ms. Vance, please have some self-respect.” “Even if you’re not feeling well, don’t come to me. Have Carter take a look at you.” He was being way too much of a nerd. I was talking about hooking up, and he was talking about a medical exam? How did I ever agree to date him in the first place? Oh, right, I remember now. I was the one who pursued him. Well, that makes sense. “But I only want Dr. Hayes to look at me.” Ethan’s fingertips paused. He secretly glanced at Carter, then quickly looked away. That fluid sequence of movements—it was like he wasn’t caught, but rather looking down on Carter. Carter suddenly looked up: “Dr. Hayes, is something wrong?” The aloof Dr. Hayes jumped. “Ah? No, nothing.” Carter: “…” Ethan quickly turned around and looked down to reply. “I’m at work, stop texting me, I’m begging you.” Flirting with him at work really freaked him out. “Dr. Hayes, I’m in the elevator.” “I’m not afraid. What are you afraid of?” 09 Ethan was very tall. He pretended to turn sideways and immediately spotted me. I gave him a wink. He hurriedly turned back around, exuding immense “sneaking around” energy. His group of doctors quickly exited the elevator. I continued riding down to the B2 parking level. As soon as the doors opened, someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a dim stairwell corner. I was completely enveloped by the man’s shadow. “Chloe, what exactly are you trying to do?” He looked down at me, his voice cold and deep. I stood up straight and looked back at him. “I want to ask you out. Is that a problem?” Ethan stared at me coldly: “Yes.” “If it is, then never mind.” If he didn’t want to revisit our history, then forget it. I stepped out into the light. “You wait right there.” I stopped and turned around. The man hidden in the dim light leaned back against the wall, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. “Can’t we discuss this? If people find out about this, how am I supposed to face anyone? How can I be a role model?” He pressed his hand against his forehead, looking both frustrated and resentful. “You need to make that guy move out first.” I frowned, looking confused. “Why?” Ethan was looking at me, his voice turning even colder. “Don’t tell me you want to do it with me while he’s in the apartment?” I felt like something was off. But right now, he seemed to urgently need me to declare my stance. I paused: “Of course not. I was planning on booking a hotel.” Ethan stared at me silently. It gave me the creeps. “Am I only worthy of a hotel?” I didn’t understand. Ethan was already pressing the elevator button. He was going back to work. I asked him hesitantly: “So, I’ll book the hotel and text you?” He looked up at me, his gaze icy. “No need. I’m not that desperate.” The elevator doors closed. I stood there in silence for a long time. What did he mean by that? I was willing to discuss it with him. Wasn’t a five-star hotel good enough? I was going to ask Ethan to elaborate on the “desperate” part, but realized I was blocked again. Psycho. Always blocking his ex. 10 Carter actually got off work at a normal time today. “It’s a miracle. Dr. Hayes finally acted like a human being and let me come home to spend time with my girlfriend.” I was on the balcony bending over to play with the cat. “You have a girlfriend?” “No, but on my first day of residency, I fabricated a ‘taken’ persona. Otherwise, wouldn’t I be the prime candidate for exploitation?” “Aren’t you afraid of blocking your own dating prospects?” The TV was on in the living room. Carter lay on the sofa, eyes closed, talking nonsense. “What dating prospects? They’re non-existent anyway. I just tell my coworkers that if I keep working this much overtime, she’s definitely going to break up with me, or she’s secretly cheating on me, I wouldn’t even know.” “You actually found the niche ‘cuckold’ demographic?” No one answered me. Carter had fallen asleep. I grabbed a blanket and threw it over him, sat down in a single armchair, and casually started scrolling on my phone. To my absolute shock, I saw Ethan’s Instagram post. He posted a faceless photo of his abs. A hand with prominent knuckles was pulling up the hem of his shirt, revealing a very enticing V-line. I liked it, felt it was inappropriate, and immediately un-liked it. A high-quality thirst trap like this, with only me liking it, meant it was probably a “Close Friends Only” post where I was the only close friend. I seriously suspected this guy had something wrong with his brain. We couldn’t even manage to hook up. He blocks and unblocks me on WhatsApp. And his seduction tactics never stop. I angrily commented: “Playing hard to get.” In less than three seconds, he deleted the post. I felt like I could hear a fragile glass heart shattering through the screen. “I’m sorry.” I felt so guilty I wanted to die. Ethan: “It has nothing to do with you. I posted it by mistake. I deleted it as soon as I realized.” Ethan: “I let Carter go home early. Don’t contact me anymore in the future, it’s really not right.” He never liked the whole “using connections” or “cutting corners” thing. “I won’t do it again.” “I just mentioned it casually before.” “Also, your photo was really nice.” Ethan: “What you just said wasn’t like that.” I sent an emoji of a confused white kitten standing up. Ethan’s phone call came through. “Is Carter next to you?” His voice sounded very nervous. I picked up my water glass from the coffee table and looked at Carter on the sofa. “Yeah, he fell asleep a long time ago. I’m just playing on my phone. What did you want to say?” The voice on the other end was silent for a long time. Amidst a faint static hum, every word Ethan spoke was incredibly shameful. “You said the photo was nice. Do you want to video chat with me?” 11 Is this something he would actually say out loud? I spat out a mouthful of water. Carter was startled awake. He asked me what I was doing, and I quickly said nothing. Luckily, Ethan didn’t make a sound either. I sneakily went back to my room. Climbing into bed, I told Ethan, “Yes, let’s video chat.” He looked at me, lowered his head, and gave a soft “mhm.” He pointed his phone camera at his waist and abdomen. His hands moved up, taking off his t-shirt. Not only did he have a great body, but he was also very pale, which made the red flush on his skin stand out even more. I was so embarrassed I had to cover my mouth to stop myself from screaming. Before, when I asked him to leave the lights on, he was so reluctant. Now my ex-boyfriend was completely letting loose. I couldn’t see Ethan’s face, but his voice carried a slight tremble. “Where do you want to look? You can ask, I’ll do anything.” I gulped. You shouldn’t push your luck. Chloe, you need to maintain your composure. I hesitated, wanting to ask but stopping myself. “Can you take off your pants?” OK, fine. I’ll be a good woman in my next life. The body on screen clearly stiffened for a second. His hands hovered near his waist, his fingertips gently pressing in, hesitating to move lower. “Underwear… I should still keep my underwear on.” His voice sounded so wronged. That was probably his absolute limit. “Mhm, you can keep it on.” I seriously admired Ethan’s subsequent performance. His waist and ass were truly sexy. He was wearing dark blue, his taste impeccable. Ethan’s voice was filled with shame. “Chloe, could you not stare at just one spot?” Only then did I realize— My intense, focused gaze had practically cooked him from the inside out. I awkwardly cleared my throat: “Sorry.” “It’s okay.” He lowered his voice. “I’m doing this willingly.” I noticed Ethan’s disappointment. “How about, to be fair, I show you too?” Ethan’s flushed face appeared on the screen. He lowered his eyelashes, his tone evasive: “No need. I’m going to sleep.” Given the state he was just in, how could he possibly be going to sleep? “Are you going to handle it yourself again?” Ethan was silent for a moment, slowly raising his eyes to look at me, his gaze complex and unreadable. “What else am I supposed to do?” Obviously, you’re supposed to ask me out. What kind of rhetorical question is “What else am I supposed to do?”? I just looked at him quietly, not speaking, not hanging up. Ethan seemed to read the hint in my eyes. He looked like he was being forced into sex work. “Then, do you want to come to my place now?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “409908”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Midnight. My fiancé’s secretary sent me a provocative, intimate photo. [We went for 4 hours today.] I didn’t have time to reply. Because my dead childhood sweetheart, who passed away ten years ago, suddenly appeared in my living room. “Is this your fiancé?” “Tsk… why does he look a little bit like me?” 01 Pushing the door open and seeing Carter, I thought I was still drunk and hallucinating. He was still wearing his faded high school varsity jacket from a decade ago. And just like before, he had a smart mouth. The moment he saw me, he started roasting me: “Wow, look at you. Cosplaying a drowned rat meets The Ring.” I looked down at my phone. 2024. The time was correct. No time travel, no alternate dimensions. Thinking my eyes were just playing tricks on me, I was about to look up to confirm, but a few messages popped up on my screen. [Miss Davis, congratulations on getting exactly what you wanted—an engagement to Mr. Perfect.] [But compared to you, he seems to like me a lot more.] [He went for four hours tonight. Twice.] Attached was a post-coital selfie of her resting against Spencer’s bare chest. Before I could even look up, Carter’s obnoxious voice rang in my ears again. “Holy crap! What kind of R-rated pic is that?” “Summer, does your phone have a virus?” “Wait, fiancé? You’re getting married?” “Oh my god! You’re engaged and he’s sleeping around? You actually want a guy like this?” “Hold on, this fiancé of yours… why does he look a little bit like me?” “Is this some kind of doppelgänger romance trope? Summer, don’t tell me you actually had a crush on me? Hehe…” Carter Hayes. Known to everyone as the mute prince. The undisputed heartthrob of Lincoln High. When he kept his mouth shut, that face was absolutely flawless. Unfortunately, he was cursed with a motor-mouth. Snapping back at him was practically muscle memory for me. “A crush on you? Am I sick in the head?” The moment the words left my mouth, Carter froze. I froze too. The next second, a chorus of screams echoed through the entire apartment building. “Ahhhh!!! I saw a ghost!” “Ahhhh!!! There’s a freaking ghost!!!” 02 Ten minutes later, I finally calmed down a bit. Leaning against the wall, I pulled a cigarette out of my purse. “What’s going on? Why can I see you?” Carter huddled in the corner of the wall. He looked even more shocked than I did. “I’d love to know that too.” Click. Click. The sound of my lighter flicked over and over. It just wouldn’t light the rain-soaked cigarette. He paused, floated over, and tried to snatch it from my hand. But he forgot that he couldn’t touch anything. His hand passed right through the cigarette. He froze for a second, then, as if trying to cover up his awkwardness, leaned in and sniffed me. “Drinking? And smoking?” “Summer, when did you pick up these habits?” He and I went to the same middle school and high school. We were practically childhood sweethearts. Using the excuse that he was three months older than me, he always loved to lecture me. But I was never afraid of him. Not then, and not now. “It’s been too long. I forgot.” His eyes widened. “You can forget something like that?” “Whatever, forgot is forgot. It’s not important anyway.” Yeah. Not important. I tossed the cigarette aside and walked past him. I took off my soaking wet trench coat and threw it carelessly onto the floor. He floated right after me, sticking to me like glue. “Hey, you see me and you aren’t even scared? Don’t you have any questions…” His voice abruptly cut off. Because after taking off my coat, I was now unbuttoning my wet dress. The buttons were already undone down to my chest. In a split second, he phased through the wall and vanished. Immediately after, a roar echoed from the closed study room. “Holy shit! Your fiancé cheats on you, so you decide to sexually harass me?!” “I’ll have you know I’m a pure, untouched virgin boy! I haven’t even dated anyone! Don’t try to force yourself on me!” “Besides, I’m already dead! I can’t satisfy you anyway!” 03 Carter’s voice made my movements stutter. Yes, he was dead. Ten years ago, the day after high school graduation. A car crash. I attended his funeral. Over the past ten years, everything related to him had been burned or thrown away. No one around me ever mentioned his name. Honestly, my mind had been a total mess just now. So chaotic that even though I forced myself to be calm, I couldn’t tell reality from a dream. So dazed that I didn’t even know what the point of my actions was right now. But in this exact moment, I suddenly snapped wide awake. I looked at the empty living room. Then I looked down at my dripping wet dress. My throat tightened. “I got caught in the rain. If I don’t take a hot shower and take some meds, I’ll probably die of pneumonia tomorrow.” The room was dead silent. So silent that it felt like seeing Carter had just been my own hallucination. But just as I held my breath, about to push open the study door to check, his muffled voice drifted through the wood. “Shut up. Don’t use the ‘D’ word…” 04 Lying in the bathtub with my clothes off. Enveloped by the hot water, listening to the splashing sounds. I finally felt like I was pulled back to reality. Even though I had just received a package filled with Carter’s belongings today. Even though I was standing at his grave just an hour ago. But separated only by a wall, his voice was incredibly real. “Summer, what is the deal with that fiancé of yours?” “I saw it earlier, this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten a text like that.” “Also, that guy’s face…” The topic I had deliberately been avoiding was brought up by him again. It was true. This wasn’t the first time Spencer’s secretary had sent provocative photos. But so what? I didn’t care. “Six years ago, my mom remarried. She married some nouveau riche guy.” “It’s a business marriage, you know? Looking like you is just a coincidence. Don’t flatter yourself.” Carter probably didn’t get it. He went quiet again. There was only the faint sound of footsteps shifting from the living room to the bathroom door. Recalling his wall-phasing trick from earlier… I frowned and asked tentatively, “Carter, you’re not trying to peek at me showering, are you?” Before he could answer, a tall silhouette was reflected on the frosted glass door. Ghosts have shadows? Filled with doubt, I got out and put on my bathrobe. However, the person who opened the door wasn’t Carter. It was Spencer, the man who was supposed to be making out with his secretary in a hotel right now. He held the photos he had dug out of the package of Carter’s belongings, looking at me with a dark, brooding expression. “I brought you medicine when you were sick, I drove through a storm to bring you condoms when you needed them. You’ve been my devoted lapdog for six years, all because of this face?” “Carter? Makes sense. Every time you get drunk, that’s the name you call out.” Spencer’s words made my heart skip a beat. I instinctively glanced toward Carter, who had just floated out of the study. But Spencer wasn’t finished. He raised an eyebrow and suddenly laughed. His tone was dangerously casual. “Where are you hiding him? Bring him out so I can meet him.” 05 Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was the deafening sound of my heartbeat. Carter heard it. He heard the phrase, “Every time you get drunk, that’s the name you call out.” Knowing his personality, he would normally seize the opportunity to relentlessly grill me. And mock me just like he did earlier: “Summer, don’t tell me you actually have a crush on me? Hahaha.” But right now, aside from shock and astonishment on his face, there was only sheer panic. “Hiding him in the study?” Spencer’s voice yanked my thoughts back. Following my gaze, he glanced at the study, his smile vanishing, and he strode over aggressively. But when he threw the door open, the room was empty. There wasn’t a single soul. Not finding anyone didn’t stop him. Like a ‘husband’ eager to catch a cheater in the act, he threw open the bedroom and the walk-in closet. It wasn’t until he realized there was truly no one else in the house that he seemed to have an epiphany and scoffed. “Entertaining yourself with fantasies? Summer, why bother?” “We look so much alike anyway. Just say the word, it’s not like I can’t satisfy you.” As he spoke, his fingers lightly, mockingly tilted my chin up. Before I could say a word, Carter intervened. “Scumbag! Let go!” He rushed over and threw a punch at Spencer’s face. But he couldn’t even touch a single hair on Spencer’s head. All he could do was jump around in frustrated rage. “Holy shit! Summer, he literally just got out of another woman’s bed and now he’s harassing you!” “What are you standing there for? Where’s that reckless energy of yours?!” “Punch him! Just like you used to punch me!” Carter’s words struck like a heavy bell, making my heart tremble as I stood completely stunned. Ten years ago, I really was a reckless bulldozer. Relying on my top grades, during a Monday morning pep rally, I grabbed the mic and publicly called out the math teacher for excessive physical punishment. When I saw a female student cornered by thugs in the back alley of the school, I jumped in to fight them off without caring for my own life. Back then, I thought I was a warrior, fearless and invincible. If Carter hadn’t reminded me, I would have almost forgotten that I used to be “reckless.” “Enough.” With a soft sigh, I slapped Spencer’s hand away and walked past him. I finally found my long-awaited pack of cigarettes on the cabinet and lit one. “Spencer, you know damn well… if you didn’t have that face, I would never humor you.” 06 Spencer and I were, indeed, a “business marriage.” Six years ago, when my mom remarried that nouveau riche guy named Richard, his project funding suddenly dried up and operations stalled. My mom knew nothing about business. Neither did I. But for the sake of her “love,” she was willing to let me be the sacrificial lamb. “Summer, Richard doesn’t have any kids of his own. He treats you like his own daughter. Can you please help him?” “Mom asked around. The young CEO of the parent company, Spencer, really likes girls with your bright, striking looks.” “I heard he invited a bunch of people on his yacht tomorrow. Can you go too? Just beg him to give Richard a little more time…” She cried and begged me over and over. That year, I was a senior in college, half a year away from graduating. I wanted to refuse, but I couldn’t do it. Because I saw a photo of Spencer. I saw a face that shared three or four features with Carter’s. From then on, things spiraled out of control. The Vance family had money and power. As the only heir to the Vance empire, Spencer never lacked women. But he never had a woman by his side who was as stubborn, unshakeable, and entirely devoid of self-esteem as me. “Lapdog.” That’s how his friends described me, and he just let them. Because if he told me to take the drinks for him, I would obediently drink myself into the ER. If he called me in the middle of the night saying he was at a hotel and needed condoms, I would drive through the rain to deliver them. Even when he allowed his first, second, third, and fourth “secretaries” to mock me, throw red wine on me, and humiliate me, I never held it against him. I was at his beck and call, staying right behind him for six whole years. As a result, my mom’s new husband’s business boomed. After his net worth skyrocketed this year, Spencer condescended to agree to a “marriage alliance.” Whether he was happy about this marriage, I didn’t know. But my mom was ecstatic. Yesterday, she threw a massive, extravagant engagement party. She voluntarily gave Spencer the passcode to my apartment. Even though Spencer never bothered to show up to the engagement party, she still couldn’t hide her joy. She urged me: “Summer, our family will have to rely on the Vances for a lot of things from now on.” “Men, you know, they have egos. That’s normal. You just have to coax him more…” Before today, I was willing to coax him. But looking at the furious Carter in front of me, who looked like he wanted to rip Spencer’s head off… Then looking at Spencer, who was choked up by my words, showing a stunned expression for the very first time. I realized they actually weren’t alike at all. Sure enough… There is only one Carter Hayes in this world. With a soft sigh, I lowered my eyes and crushed out the cigarette. Then I walked up to Spencer and snatched the photo out of his hand. “Wipe the lipstick off your neck. It’s disgusting.” “And you know perfectly well… I never use you.” 07 Spencer left. It was the first time I had ever choked him into silence. He was furious when he left, even flipping over the box containing Carter’s belongings on the table. Carter exploded instantly. “Look at this, look at this! We aren’t even married yet and he’s already smashing and throwing things! What’s he going to be like later?” “Summer, he has violent tendencies! You absolutely cannot marry him!” He lectured me relentlessly, deliberately changing the subject. Honestly, there wasn’t much in the package anyway. A few photos and a glass jar filled with folded origami stars. Nothing valuable. But seeing the glass jar shatter and the red paper stars scatter all over the floor, Carter looked heartbroken. I knew about those stars. During our junior year of high school, he had begged me to teach him how to fold them. Back then, he said he wanted to fold exactly 520 stars to give to the girl he liked right before graduation to confess his feelings. I was reluctant. I roasted him for being cheesy, laughing at him looking like a linebacker doing needlepoint. “In this day and age, what girl wants a confession like this?” But he just blushed and told me to shut up, saying he was all about that old-school, hopeless romantic vibe. So many years had passed. I still had no idea who he gave that jar of stars to. Nor did I know who had anonymously mailed these things to me. Though when I was in the bathroom earlier, I did have a fleeting urge to ask. But looking at Carter, who looked like he wanted to physically manifest just to pick up the stars one by one… That tiny bit of curiosity completely evaporated. “I’ll pack them up.” I found a random box and swept the stars into it, ignoring his incessant, mother-hen-like nagging. I turned and walked back to my bedroom. But when I closed the door, I saw he had phased right through it. “Why did you come in?” He paused, his tone perfectly natural. “It’s pouring rain outside. I remember you’re scared of thunder.” My heart skipped a violent beat. I stared straight into his face. Until he nervously scratched the back of his head and silently averted his gaze. “It’s winter. There’s no thunder.” “Plus, you’re a ghost. I’m way more scared of you than I am of thunder.” Carter: “…” 08 That night, Carter didn’t leave. He just crouched outside my door. But since he wasn’t a physical entity, his entire back phased right through the door panel. At first glance, it looked like my door had grown a high school jacket. It was pretty terrifying. But he was completely unaware, just saying, “Go to sleep, Summer.” Honestly, I wasn’t really scared. Because in my memory, during a summer vacation years ago, he had sat outside my door all night just like this. That year, I was thirteen. My parents were going through a messy divorce. One of them was crying and demanding, “Did you ever really love me?” “All these years, did I ever matter to you? Even for a single day?” The other looked completely impatient. “Our marriage was a mistake from the start!” “If it wasn’t for the fact that you got pregnant, I never would have left Linda!” They fought and screamed at each other. Neither of them noticed that I had run out the front door. Back then, I was very withdrawn. I had no friends, and nowhere to go, so I just went to the little convenience store down the street. The old lady who ran the store was very kind. She never asked uncomfortable questions. She just waved me over. “Hey kiddo, want to watch some TV? Come on in.” I forgot what show was playing on the TV that day. I just remember sitting in that store for a very, very long time. From afternoon until dusk. From the blistering heat, until the air slowly filled with the damp smell of an approaching storm. That was when Carter walked in. He called out, “Hey Mrs. Higgins, grab me a bottle of vinegar!” He looked surprised for a second when he saw me. We exchanged a few casual greetings. After paying, he was about to leave, but his footsteps reversed. He tilted his chin at me, sounding like a tough guy. “Summer, my family’s making homemade lasagna tonight.” “Come on, let’s go get some.” 09 That day, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I followed Carter to his house like I was under a spell. His house was pretty far, and I had never been there before. As we approached his front door, I started getting anxious. I was worried he’d get scolded for suddenly bringing a stranger home. I was worried his parents, like mine, hated it when classmates came over to play. But he unlocked the door, kicked off his shoes, and his tone was ridiculously casual. “Dad, Mom! I picked up a friend for dinner. Make sure there’s enough lasagna for one more!” The first person to walk out of the kitchen was Carter’s dad. “You little punk, you actually have a friend? How good-tempered do they have to be to put up with a troublemaker like you?” “Oh wow, it’s a girl classmate too.” His laugh was booming and hearty. He had flour smeared on his cheek. Before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by a gentle female voice. “Shut up, old man. You’re smiling so wide you’re going to scare the poor girl.” “Come on in, sweetie. We’re having homemade lasagna tonight, do you like Italian food?” “Honey, what are you standing there for? Get back to the garlic bread! Carter, there’s soda in the fridge, grab a can for the girl.” Carter: “Oh right, Summer, what flavor do you like? Orange good?” … That day, I hadn’t planned on crying. But I don’t know what came over me. Seeing Carter’s warm, welcoming parents, seeing this happy, harmonious family… my nose suddenly started to sting. I tried to hold it back. I held it back for a long time, but finally, I couldn’t anymore. Along with the first crack of thunder of the summer, I burst out crying, sobbing loudly. That night, I didn’t go home. Because the rain was too heavy and the thunder was too loud, Carter’s mom called my mom. My mom was entirely focused on my dad and couldn’t care less about me. So that night, I slept in Carter’s room. And Carter, who was banished to sleep on the living room couch, whispered outside my door in the middle of the night: “Summer, you’re scared of thunder?” “How did I never notice you were such a scaredy-cat before?” “Hehe, I’ll just camp out right here tonight. Don’t let me catch you crying on tape, Thunder Girl…” His mouth was seriously so toxic. The depressed mood I had built up was completely washed away by his few sentences, leaving me with nothing but pure speechlessness. “Get lost, you dog.” He didn’t get lost. He leaned against the door and slept sitting up the entire night. When I opened the door early the next morning, he fell flat on his back, groaning in pain. I’ve forgotten a lot of things from over a decade ago. But the summer breeze, the cicadas, the fiery sunset clouds from that year… I remember them vividly. I can even recall the smell of that homemade lasagna and orange soda lingering in the summer air… “Summer, go to sleep.” Carter’s voice seemed to travel through time, drifting through the door panel, instantly pulling my thoughts back. I let out a soft sigh and closed my eyes. And whispered silently in my heart. “Goodnight, Carter.” 10 Early the next morning, I was woken up by a phone ringing. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw Carter’s ghost face right there. He was so close to me. So close that I could see his pupils slightly contract and his eyelashes flutter. He didn’t seem to expect the phone to ring suddenly, nor did he expect me to open my eyes. A flash of panic crossed his eyes. Then he abruptly pulled back, looking away, his tone extremely unnatural. “Summer, you grind your teeth when you sleep.” “Grind my teeth?” Having known him for so many years, it was the first time I saw an expression resembling “shy” on Carter’s face. I couldn’t help it, I let out a laugh. Then I threw off the covers, got out of bed, and walked toward him barefoot. I deliberately let my gaze slowly sweep down from his eyes, landing on his lips. “If you don’t explain… I’m going to think that pose just now was you trying to kiss me.” After all, a seventeen-year-old boy can’t handle being teased. Just one sentence made his eyes go wide as he stumbled backward repeatedly. Fortunately, the second round of ringtones rang right on time. He looked like he was saved. “Your phone is ringing, hurry up and answer it.” After saying that, not daring to stay a second longer, he phased through the wall and escaped. Seeing such a vibrant, lively Carter made me want to laugh. But I couldn’t. Because the call was from my mom. Unsurprisingly, the moment I connected, the scolding came down like an avalanche. “Summer, what happened with you last night? You didn’t pick up the phone or reply to my texts.” “I went through so much trouble to get Spencer to go check on you, and you still managed to piss him off?” “Your stepdad Richard’s project relies entirely on the Vance family. How can you have zero sense of boundaries?” “I heard Spencer has a gathering with his friends the day after tomorrow. You are going to go there and apologize, do you hear me?” Look. This is my mom. Where I went, what I did, she didn’t know and didn’t care. Instead, she knew Spencer’s itinerary like the back of her hand. I wanted to say I wasn’t going. I didn’t want to go through with this marriage either. But the moment I thought about the endless blame and nagging I would face after saying it aloud… I swallowed the words back down. “Okay.” Looking at the direction Carter vanished. I thought. Some things are better said to Spencer face-to-face.

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On my birthday. A guy claiming to be from ten years in the future showed up and publicly cancelled the engagement between me and his 18-year-old self. Then, he pointed at the low-income student my family was sponsoring and said, “The person you truly love is her.” “Ten years from now, you will divorce Nora for her. Rather than tearing each other apart then, it’s better to cut it off at the source now.” “Chloe is aloof and proud, beautiful and independent. Nora could never compare to her. The future you will be completely captivated by her.” The 18-year-old him grabbed the older man by the collar and yelled, “You’re psycho.” But when we were planning to apply for colleges abroad, he hesitated. He “lost” his application form nine times. The tenth time, I didn’t call him out on it. Instead, I called his older brother: “The alliance between our two families needs to continue.” “Are you up for it?” 01 Right before the college application deadline. Liam came looking for me again. At the gate of my house, he looked at me guiltily: “Nora, I lost my application form again.” The tenth time. No surprise there. I looked quietly at the boy in front of me. This time, I didn’t ask him to go to the counselor for another form. Instead, I waited for him to make his own decision. Seeing my silence, Liam thought I was angry. He sat down on the ground, looking incredibly defeated: “There’s always an accident. I don’t want this either. God must be playing a joke on me, showing me I’m not meant to study abroad.” “Nora, why don’t we just stay in Boston? Let’s not go abroad.” After saying that, he looked up at me. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He was clearly nervous. I couldn’t help but sneer inwardly. The reason Liam didn’t want to go abroad was simple: Chloe couldn’t go. She was the underprivileged student my family sponsored. But ever since she started her senior year, she proactively asked my parents to stop the financial aid. I still vividly remember what she said that day. “Mr. and Mrs. Vance, I will never forget your kindness. I will work hard to make money and repay everything I owe your family.” So, she just wanted to get her degree locally and enter the workforce. When Liam found out about this, he secretly met with her behind my back. He gave her a debit card and asked her to go abroad with us, saying he would repay the debt she owed my family. Chloe, true to her proud nature, flat-out rejected him. She said, “I may be poor, but I don’t accept just anyone’s money.” “If I took your money today, what would that make me? Your kept little pet?” Then, she walked away without looking back. Liam originally just wanted to prove to his 28-year-old self that in the face of money, everyone is a servant. But Chloe’s two sentences completely reset his perception of her. He began to agree with everything his future self had said. So that night, I received the first lie Liam told me in ten years: [Baby, I lost my application form.] [The deadline is still a ways off, I’ll turn it in later.] I didn’t reply. The 28-year-old him had found me. He detailed every single thing about Liam and Chloe’s meeting. He stared at the message Liam sent me and smirked smugly: “So you see, whether it’s the future me or the current me, as long as we come into contact with Chloe, we will be drawn to her.” “She’s exceptional, unlike you.” “You are a spoiled heiress who just waits to inherit her wealth. But someone like Chloe is destined to contribute to society, destined to claw her way to the top of the pyramid through her own efforts.” His tone was full of pride, as if Chloe was the only treasure he had encountered in his entire life. But he seemed to have forgotten. If my dad hadn’t gone on a project inspection in Appalachia and run into Chloe being forced into a child marriage… If he hadn’t called the cops, brought Chloe back to Boston, and sponsored her… Then what the hell would Chloe be? Forget college, she probably wouldn’t have even finished high school. She might even be a mother by now. So what right did Liam have to compare me to Chloe? That day, the 28-year-old him asked me, “Nora, care to make a bet? Liam won’t go abroad with you.” I agreed: “Ten chances.” I don’t remember my reasoning. Maybe it was resentment, or maybe I still held onto a sliver of hope. Ten years of history together, ten chances. It was enough. But I never expected it. Liam burned through those ten chances so fast. It only took a month. 02 The day he told me his application form was lost for the second time. My best friend was dragging me to the pool. Liam was sitting by the edge, staring blankly at a thin application form in his hand. My bestie was about to go say hi, but I stopped her. The next second, we saw the 28-year-old Liam snatch the paper from his hand. Crumple it up, and toss it into the pool. He said with righteous indignation: “Liam, when you start hesitating, you’ve actually already chosen Chloe, haven’t you?” Liam frowned deeply, didn’t say a word, and dove straight into the pool with a splash. To retrieve the ruined application form. “No, I haven’t chosen Chloe.” “The person I love is Nora. I’ve loved her since we were kids.” Hearing this, my bestie nudged me with her elbow and teased in a whisper, “Your boy Liam truly loves you.” I smiled but said nothing. This time, I agreed with what the 28-year-old Liam said. When Liam hesitated, the answer was actually already very clear. The third time. It was in the cafeteria. While I was eating, Liam took out his application form, seemingly taking it very seriously, but his eyes kept drifting to Chloe at the next table. When Chloe finished eating and stood up, she suddenly let out a gasp. Liam shot up from his seat in a flash. He reached out and caught Chloe by the waist. Knocking over the soup that was on his table. Chloe blushed and thanked him. Liam grumbled that his application form was ruined again, but he wasn’t truly angry. The fourth time. Liam and I ran into Chloe on the way home. Before I could stop him, he had already rushed forward to chase away some punks harassing Chloe. He casually threw the book in his hand at them. When the application form fluttered out, he stepped on it without mercy, grinding it into the wet dirt, tearing it. Just like our relationship. … The tenth time. Today. Liam and I were at the movies. Halfway through, he got a text from Chloe. Then he turned to me and said: “Gotta hit the restroom.” And he never came back. A two-hour movie. I finished it by myself. And I finally made my decision. Love that isn’t steadfast, I don’t want it. Sure enough, when Liam came looking for me again, the form was lost once more. “Nora, please don’t be mad at me.” Liam’s voice pulled me back from my thoughts. I paused for a moment, then nodded calmly: “Whatever you want.” Liam visibly exhaled in relief. He flashed a smile and pointed playfully at a faint bruise on the corner of his mouth. “Baby, it hurts. Put some medicine on it for me.” I frowned slightly. Just as I was about to say something, his phone rang. The ringtone was so familiar. It sounded like Chloe’s… My heart skipped a beat. “Baby, don’t you think this song is pretty good? Chloe recorded it just for me.” “She said it’s a thank you for saving her the other day.” A private, personally recorded ringtone. For a moment, I couldn’t process it. Was Chloe really as innocent as she appeared? Liam swiped to answer, and a cold, aloof voice came through: “Liam, I keep feeling like someone is following me on my way home. I don’t know if it’s those punks from before.” “I’ve already called the police. Can you come with me to the station?” Liam instinctively glanced at me, his eyes shifting. He hesitated for two seconds before saying: “Okay, I’ll come get you. Wait for me.” He hung up. He stammered, trying to explain to me. I smiled and spoke first: “Aren’t you going to go?” “Then, baby, I’ll come pick you up for school tomorrow?” “Mhm.” Getting my answer, Liam relaxed, grabbed his phone, and hurried off. I stared at his retreating back, smiling silently. Then I pulled out my own phone. I called Liam’s older brother. The person on the other end was clearly a bit surprised. It wasn’t until three minutes had passed that I heard Julian ask in a slightly hoarse voice, “Don’t you love Liam?” I smiled, my voice very soft: “I do, but I can’t let myself be wronged.” “Julian, the alliance between our two families needs to continue. Are you up for it?” The other end went quiet again. I frowned slightly. When another three minutes had passed, Julian, seemingly suppressing his voice, asked back: “If you choose me, you can’t run away. Are you sure?” 03 My application to study abroad had been submitted. Julian set the date for our engagement party for half a month later. Coincidentally, Julian also needed to go to New York to expand his market in half a month. Expected duration: three years. This perfectly overlapped with my schedule. After hanging up the phone. The 28-year-old Liam inexplicably appeared in front of me again. “Who were you calling?” I ignored him and turned to go inside the house. He persistently followed me, blocking the door: “Nora—” I interrupted him impatiently: “Don’t worry, it wasn’t Liam. He should be with Chloe right now.” He seemed a bit surprised, an eyebrow slightly raised. “Didn’t expect the 18-year-old you to be so sensible.” The 28-year-old Liam didn’t look much different from the 18-year-old Liam. Their features were still just as handsome, but the man in front of me had a colder, more aristocratic aura, and a bit more maturity. Suddenly, I couldn’t help but ask: “Then what about the 28-year-old me?” He unconsciously frowned, resting his hand on his chin. After pondering for a moment, he finally delivered his conclusion: “No different from a shrew.” “If it weren’t for the ties between our families and our years of history, it’s just a divorce. I have plenty of ways to handle it.” “There are plenty of CEOs in our circle who keep mistresses. Why does Nora have to make it so difficult for me? If she were willing to turn a blind eye, I wouldn’t have—” Saying that, he patted his pockets. I had seen this gesture many times. My dad did it too. Whenever he was annoyed, he wanted a smoke. Not finding any, he gave up and sighed: “I deeply regret choosing marriage at an age when I didn’t understand love. And when I finally understood love, I met someone I couldn’t be with.” “Nora, we are childhood sweethearts, that’s true. But we don’t have to get married, do we?” “Driving yourself crazy, is it worth it?” Crazy. Suddenly, my heart spasmed. I didn’t know if I felt it wasn’t worth it for my future self, or my current self. The old Liam would explode and start a fight if someone unintentionally said a single bad word about me. But his future self actually used the word “crazy” to describe me. Ten years of childhood romance. Time really can show you a person’s true colors. After a long time, I took a deep breath. “Don’t worry. This time, I’m letting you and Chloe be together.” He frowned slightly, but then grunted: “You better not be lying to me.” For the next three days, the 28-year-old Liam didn’t appear. And the 18-year-old Liam practically revolved around Chloe. Maybe it was the novelty, or maybe he truly agreed with his future self’s words. Until my best friend, Mia’s birthday. She organized a dinner and invited a few close friends. But when we got out of the car. I was slightly surprised to see Chloe. She was wearing a simple white dress, carrying a backpack, and holding an economics textbook that looked completely out of place. It seemed like every time I saw her, she had that book in her hand. When Mia noticed my gaze, she immediately called people over and asked: “Holy shit, who invited her?!” “I…” A girl silently raised her hand, then curled her finger and scratched her temple: “I ran into her on the street, so I just exchanged pleasantries. I didn’t expect her to actually come… my bad.” Mia looked at me. The fact that Liam and Chloe were getting close recently was already an open secret. “Nora, what do you think?” I smiled helplessly, patted her shoulder, and said: “Today, you’re the birthday girl. Your happiness is the most important thing, understand?” “Worthy of being my queen. Classy.” I smiled again. But what we didn’t expect was how clueless Chloe would be. During the picnic, four or five friends gathered around to play games and eat. Chloe alone took a folding stool and sat twenty feet away from us. Mia kindly brought her some food and invited her over to play. Chloe immediately said self-righteously: “I didn’t buy you a gift, and I didn’t chip in for snacks, so I can’t take advantage of you.” 04 The atmosphere instantly became awkward. Mia was my best friend, and her family was incredibly wealthy. All the expenses for today’s dinner were covered by Mia herself. This made the few people who were eating snacks silently put them down. Mia took a deep breath and forced a smile: “You don’t need to pay.” “How could I do that?” “Then what are you here for?” Chloe frowned, as if puzzled: “Didn’t I come to celebrate your birthday?” Mia was completely exasperated. She put her hands on her hips, just about to unleash a tirade. Liam suddenly appeared. He placed himself directly between her and Chloe, creating distance between the two. His face was dark. When he caught sight of me in his peripheral vision, his accusatory gaze immediately locked onto me. He walked past Mia and stopped in front of me: “Nora, aren’t you going a bit too far?” “I used to think you were kind and innocent, but I truly never imagined you would lead a group to isolate Chloe.” “That guy was right. Whenever you encounter Chloe, you turn into a psycho!” His tone was filled with anger. My chest swelled with a slight ache. I was a bit slow to react, then pointed at myself: “You’re saying I’m isolating her?” “Isn’t that true? You guys are over here eating, drinking, and having fun, leaving her all alone over there. If you never intended to include her in your circle, why did you invite her over?!” Liam’s words sounded incredibly self-righteous. I just found it mocking. Ten years of childhood friendship, and it meant absolutely nothing. A friend spoke up for me: “No, Liam, is there something wrong with you?” “Chloe is the one who didn’t want to come over. She said she felt bad eating without paying. Is it a bit much for you to blame this on Nora?” “Yeah, what kind of person is Nora? Don’t you know?” Liam scanned the group, sneering: “You’re all Nora’s friends. Of course you’d take her side.” “Even if she killed Chloe right here today, I bet you’d all rush to cover up for her—” “Are you done?” I raised my eyes to look at him. Liam was silenced for a moment, but his face was still full of indignation, his brow furrowed. “Liam, if you want to stand up for Chloe, fine. But please get your facts straight.” I tilted my chin up, pointing directly at the car Mia drove today: “The dashcam. You can go review the footage yourself.” “Whether we were bullying her, or she was putting on an act to make herself look like a victim, it’s crystal clear!” Mia immediately caught my drift. She turned and started running toward the car. At that moment, Chloe, who hadn’t said a word, finally spoke up. She took a deep breath and tugged on Liam’s arm. “It’s just a small misunderstanding. No need to blow it out of proportion.” “Since Ms. Vance doesn’t welcome me, I’ll just leave.” After saying that, she flashed a gentle smile at me. Poised, bright, and kind. Mia wanted to rip Chloe’s mask off right then and there, but I stopped her. In the end, Liam threw one last line at me: “Nora, if your dad finds out you’re throwing your weight around bullying people outside, just wait until you get grounded.” “I’ll tell him everything.” Leaving those words behind, he turned and immediately chased after Chloe. Without looking back. Once their figures completely disappeared from my sight, Mia said indignantly: “No way. Chloe is that fake, and you can tolerate it? Are you a Ninja Turtle?” “Liam is acting like he’s under a spell. Right now, he’s definitely thinking about how to tattle to your dad and call off the engagement.” I gripped the boba tea in my hand tightly, a chill spreading from my palm to my heart. “It doesn’t matter.” “If he doesn’t want to be my husband, then I’ll be his sister-in-law.” “I’ll make him kneel and offer me tea every holiday.”

From the moment I gained conscious thought, I understood one fundamental truth: I did not belong to myself. I was merely a strategic asset, a bargaining chip in my parents’ desperate gambit to curry favor with the elite Miller family of Seattle. During my freshman year of high school, they transferred me to the same exclusive private academy attended by Caleb Miller. Their directives were crystalline: charm Caleb, outshine the horde of other debutantes vying for position, and secure my spot as the future Mrs. Miller. However, at that time, Caleb’s heart was already occupied. I witnessed the unbridled arrogance in his expression soften only for her; I saw the reverence with which he kissed her forehead. I was a firsthand witness to the passionate romance of their youth—memories that remained vivid long after Caleb and I eventually married. I knew, deep down, that I only possessed the husk of a boy whose brilliance belonged entirely to someone else’s past. So, when life granted me a miracle—a second chance—I chose to fight back. 01 I pressed a beige bandage over the angry scratch on my neck before finally turning to look back at the sprawling complex of luxury villas behind me. I let out a long, slow breath, a genuine smile spreading across my face. Relief. The very first thing I did upon waking up in this past was drag my parents through a near-death melodrama. I made it absolutely clear that I would rather die than adhere to their scheming calculations for my life. It cost me dearly. To buy my freedom, I had to sign a contract promising to pay them a million dollars by the time I turned thirty to compensate for the “cost of raising me.” But I succeeded. And while they immediately retaliated by stripping away every investment intended to mold me into a trophy wife, they were stuck covering my basic living expenses until high school graduation due to a clause in the trust. As for college tuition and making my way in the world? That was entirely on me now. Sitting in the classroom, the surreal reality of my situation finally settled over me. I drifted my gaze to the seat a few rows ahead and to my left. Caleb Miller. Just then, a cool breeze swept through the open window, puffing up his oversized white collared shirt. He radiated that raw, indomitable energy of youth. A smile played on his lips, and that habitual arrogance in his eyes was replaced by a rare tenderness. And all of it was directed solely at the girl beside him. Maya Jenkins. She wasn’t just his deskmate; she was his girlfriend. They were the perfect, envy-inducing golden couple, inseparable since freshman year. Even the school administration, which usually frowned upon teenage romance, looked the other way. They were both top-tier students; being together didn’t negatively impact their academic performance. In fact, the teachers used them to spur on other students: “You want to date? Fine. Make sure your combined GPA beats Caleb and Maya first.” But who could have guessed? This seemingly unshakable teenage love would still fall apart. In my previous life, that breakup allowed me—the thief hiding in the shadows, coveting their happiness—to pick up Caleb on the rebound. For a time, I was actually naive enough to be thrilled. It wasn’t until after the wedding that Caleb’s bone-deep indifference hit me. Even in the intimacy of our bedroom, he acted like he was merely checking items off a tedious checklist. It was a cold awakening. I realized that even though I “possessed” him, he was not the brilliant boy I had adored from afar. I screamed at him. I cried. I even steeled my heart and demanded a divorce. But he refused. He claimed he had to fulfill his “duties as a husband.” Faced with my perceived emotional outbursts, he offered only a stonewall of silence. The time he spent at home grew shorter and shorter, until he practically lived at the office. I dissolved in self-pity, gradually losing my sense of self, growing darker and more melancholy with each passing day. Until finally, one fateful day. Caleb was driving me to a routine medical check-up. We were involved in a horrific accident. When that massive semi-truck lost control and ploughed directly toward us, my only feeling in that split second wasn’t fear, but a twisted sense of liberation. The impact was cataclysmic, instantly crushing my consciousness. In the hazy twilight between life and death, I thought I saw Caleb cradling my blood-drenched body, breaking down in uncontrollable, agonizing sobs. But I quickly dismissed the notion. I thought, with bitter irony, Why would Caleb ever cry for me? When I opened my eyes again, I thought I had survived. Instead, I had been reborn, waking up directly in the middle of my high school years. I looked at the two figures leaning into each other ahead of me, and the last lingering ghost in my heart evaporated. Perhaps my youth was meant to be lived a different way this time. 02 “Chloe, are you absolutely sure about this?” In the quiet of the guidance office, Mrs. Evans was staring at me, her expression grave. Even after I nodded, she still looked bewildered. “I know your math and science scores are exceptional, but didn’t you always insist on focusing on the Humanities track? Why the sudden change of heart?” I kept my head bowed. In my previous life, the Humanities track was forced upon me by my parents. The reasoning was insultingly simple: Maya Jenkins—the girl Caleb loved—was a Humanities major. Their strategy was to have me mimic Caleb’s current girlfriend in hopes of stealing his affection. Reborn, I obviously didn’t need to follow their playbook anymore. I lifted my head, offering the counselor a bright, open smile. “Because the light finally turned on.” Though my cryptic response confused her, Mrs. Evans was visibly relieved I had returned to the STEM track. With orientation over and my major declared, the official track assignments were scheduled for the end of the break. On the very last day of vacation, I visited a local salon. I had my long hair and heavy, face-hiding bangs chopped off, replacing them with a sleek, shoulder-length bob. “Wow, little sister, you have a great fashion sense,” the stylist, Tony, gushed as he finished. He examined my reflection in the mirror, not skimping on praise. “Your face shape is perfect for this bob. It gives you a much more sophisticated look!” I looked at the utterly new version of myself in the mirror and smiled with satisfaction. On the first day back, classmates swarmed me, their faces painted with shock. “Chloe, you cut your hair?” “That bob looks amazing on you! It’s a completely different vibe!” “Yeah, definitely! Like one of those sophisticated women doctors in zombie movies!” The buzzing from my classmates attracted the attention of Caleb Miller, who had been resting his head on his desk with his eyes closed. He turned casually, cast a single, indifferent glance my way, and then turned back. My parents’ desire for me to become a Miller daughter-in-law was purely one-sided wishful thinking. Currently, our family didn’t even have the social standing to speak with the Millers as equals. My parents had to pull significant strings just to find out which school Caleb was attending. So, while I had been indoctrinated with Caleb’s likes and dislikes since childhood, I had never actually interacted with him. To Caleb, I was a complete and utter stranger. That suited me just fine. I intended to keep it that way. 03 The junior year academic grind passed in a blur. During the fall semester, I worked hard to fill the gaps in knowledge I had neglected in my first life. Now, I was finally back to my true ranking. In my previous life, even before the track split, my STEM scores consistently ranked me in the top ten of the entire grade. Now, backed by the memories of my previous life, I had broken into the top five. By the mid-term exams of junior year, I had actually pushed my way up to second place. Only Caleb Miller remained, managing to stay one head above me. “Holy crap, Caleb! Looks like you might not keep that number one spot for long!” “This Chloe girls is in our class, right? Are you guys close?” A crowd of students had gathered in front of the Honor Roll bulletin board to check rankings. I happened to overhear the exchange between Caleb and one of his friends. Caleb didn’t answer immediately. He stared fixatedly at the scores on the Honor Roll—the mere five-point gap between us. He stared for over a minute before turning to leave, tossing back a single, cold response to his friend: “Not close.” Shortly after the start of the spring semester, our AP Calculus teacher presented a complex competition problem. He framed it as a practice test for those interested in joining the Academic Decathlon math team. Ever since declaring my STEM major, I had intended to participate in Academic Decathlon. I knew that only by climbing higher peaks could I gain more scholarships and truly secure my independence. This was my chance to paint my youth with a completely new color. One by one, students attempted the problem and failed, until silence settled over the entire class. I raised my hand. And I solved it. The classroom erupted. “Holy… Chloe is a beast! She solved a problem that even Caleb couldn’t do!” “Looks like Chloe taking Caleb’s number one spot is practically guaranteed now.” “Seriously, Chloe’s improved so fast. She has total ‘academic weapon’ energy now. I think I’m catching academic-attraction!” “Academic-attraction my ass, you just think Chloe is hot!” My classmates were laughing and chatting, but then, someone suddenly asked: “Hey, do you guys think Chloe and Caleb make a good couple?” “They’re both gorgeous, and they’re both geniuses!” “Hard to say. Even though we’re in the same class, I’ve never seen Chloe even talk to Caleb. They act like total strangers.” “Plus, Caleb has a girlfriend!” “Look, Maya is completely different from Chloe. Chloe clearly isn’t Caleb’s type.” “That’s fine, she’s my type.” “Get lost, loser. Like a smart girl like Chloe would even look at you.” I heard every word of my classmates’ gossip. Internally, I just smiled with indifference. I didn’t care. While I was focused on researching Decathlon problems, I didn’t notice Caleb, seated ahead of me, turn back to look at me, his expression unreadable. The eve of the State Decathlon competition coincided with mid-terms. And it was during these mid-term exams that I finally surpassed Caleb, taking the number one spot in the STEM track. My classmates, witnessing this historic moment, swarmed to congratulate me. After thanking them, my only thought was tomorrow’s competition. I had cleared the local and regional rounds, and the State Finals were next. Caleb and I were both pinned as the Decathlon team’s key competitors. Our beaming faculty advisor led us to the state capital. On the day of the finals, I proved that sleeping only four hours a night to practice Decathlon problems was worth it. In mathematics, while raw talent is paramount, hard work can never be discounted. I didn’t consider myself naturally gifted; I just made sure I was the hardest worker. When I was announced as the Decathlon Gold Medalist, my heart swelled with pride—pride that I had genuinely changed my path, pride that I had truly grown this far. Looking up at the judges’ panel, I saw the legendary elderly academic I had been dying to meet. “Professor Thompson, I want to be your research assistant.” I summoned all my courage to make my request at the post-awards reception. The professor was stunned, but when he processed my words, his gaze turned appreciative. “You’re interested in Aerospace Engineering?” I nodded vigorously. The professor smiled and gave me his contact information, telling me to contact him whenever I was ready to visit his lab at MIT. That was my entire purpose in competing—securing the Academic Decathlon National Championship junior year guaranteed me a full-ride scholarship to any top-tier school and the chance to start research early. It also meant I could start making money sooner to pay back the million dollars I owed the Bennetts. Our advisor patted my shoulder, visibly moved. “Chloe, that is not an easy path.” “But having such high ambitions… I support you!” With the competition over, I had achieved my goals: I secured my future, met my mentor, and verbalized my ambitions. Everything was unfolding according to plan, and I was genuinely happy. Letting myself relax, I spent hours wandering through the streets of the unfamiliar city. As dusk settled, I strolled back to our hotel. We were scheduled for an early flight back the next morning. However, as I reached the hotel entrance, I saw Caleb Miller standing there. He looked like he was waiting for someone. I didn’t ask; after all, as my classmates had noted, reborn or not, I truly wasn’t close to him. I intended to pretend I hadn’t seen him and walk straight past. But he stopped me. I froze, lifting my head to meet his profound, dark eyes. “The advisor noticed you hadn’t checked in yet. He sent me down to look for you.” He stated his purpose, and I nodded in realization. I apologized, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I was wandering and lost track of time.” “Thank you for looking. Go back up and rest, we have to be up early tomorrow.” With that, I prepared to leave. I hadn’t taken two steps before my wrist was grabbed. Stunned, I turned back to look at Caleb in confusion. “Caleb, is there something else?” Caleb remained silent, just staring at me with an intense gaze, eyes swirling with emotions I couldn’t decipher. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “Do we have beef?” I was completely baffled by his question. I shook my head. “No—” “Then why have you been ignoring me this entire time?” Caleb stared straight at me, his eyes demanding answers. 04 I was stunned by the question, instinctively trying to pull my wrist back, but his grip only tightened. The teenager’s palm was warm, with a layer of calluses from basketball, and his strength was unsettlingly intense. “I’m not ignoring you.” I tried to keep my voice as level as possible. “We just aren’t close. I didn’t think we had anything to talk about.” That was the truth. In my previous life, right up until the wedding, the total number of sentences we had ever exchanged didn’t exceed fifty. He was always busy with Miller family affairs. I was always obsessed with figuring out how to make him happy. We were like two parallel lines—forced together under the same roof, but never truly touching. Caleb’s brow furrowed. The lamplight fell across his high nose bridge, casting a small shadow. “Not close?” He repeated the words, his tone carrying an unreadable quality. “From freshman year until now, we’ve sat in the same classroom for nearly two years.” “You don’t even say hello when we pass.” “Last time in front of the Honor Roll, when my friend asked who you were, I actually couldn’t answer him.” I remained silent. I couldn’t very well tell him that I had spent an entire previous life watching him love someone else. Knowing I was just a substitute, I only wanted to stay far away from him in this life. “At the state finals, the auxiliary line method you used for the last problem…” He suddenly switched topics, his gaze locked on my face. “That was a method I used in Academic Decathlon prep middle school. Besides that teacher, nobody knew that specific shortcut.” My heart skipped a beat. I had seen that in an old notebook while organizing his study years ago in my previous life. I had foolishly memorized it for the longest time. I thought that maybe one day it would prove useful, giving us something in common to talk about. I never imagined that in this life, it would be used in this context. “Coincidence, I guess.” I looked away, not daring to meet his eyes. “I’ve seen similar problem types when drilling practice tests.” He stared at me heavily for several seconds before suddenly letting go of my hand. “Maybe.” He turned around and walked into the hotel, his voice drifting back carelessly. “Get some rest. Don’t be late for the flight tomorrow.” I stood rooted to the spot, watching his back disappear behind the revolving doors, before finally letting out a breath. At some point, my palm had started sweating, and a trace of his warmth still lingered on the wrist he had grabbed. Back in my room, I collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Caleb’s reaction today was too strange. Why would he suddenly care if I was ignoring him? Was it because I stole his number one ranking? Or because of that specific math solution? I thought about it for half an hour but couldn’t come up with a logical answer. Sanguine by nature, I pulled out the reading list Professor Thompson had given me. After flipping two pages, I was completely immersed. The world of Aerospace Engineering was like a vast sea of stars; once I dived in, nothing else mattered. Life after returning from the competition went back to normal. 05 Every day consisted of classes, drilling problems, camping in the library, and occasionally working odd jobs to earn some spending money. The National Merit semifinalist list—the pool for guaranteed college scholarships—was finalized, and as long as I maintained my current grades, I would be heading to MIT next fall. My parents called twice. Their tone carried a cautious test, asking if I would reconsider switching back to the Humanities track. They said the Miller family was expanding into new business sectors, and a daughter-in-law with a Humanities background would be a better fit. I hung up on them immediately, and they didn’t call again. Maya Jenkins did, however, corner me once. It was a rainy Tuesday in December. She stopped me right at the entrance of the main academic building. She was wearing a soft pink cardigan, long hair flowing over her shoulders, looking gentle and lovely. “Chloe, can we talk for a minute?” I was slightly bewildered, having no idea why Maya Jenkins would be seeking me out. But I nodded and followed her to the edge of the campus quad, under the shelter of the old oak trees. “Are you in love with Caleb?” She cut straight to the chase, her eyes filled with wary suspicion. I froze for a second, utterly confused. “Why would you even ask that? I don’t even know him.” “Then why do you always fight him for the number one spot?” “Why did you use his specific, secret math method at the state finals?” “Why did you suddenly cut your hair and change your whole look?” The questions shot out of her like rapid-fire, her voice trembling slightly. “You weren’t like this before. You never cared about competing with anyone.” I finally understood. To her, every change I had made was to get Caleb’s attention. In my previous life, she would have been right. Her intuition was spot on; the only thing wrong was the timeline. “Maya,” I looked into her eyes, speaking with utter seriousness. “I did all of this for myself.” “I want to go to MIT and research Aerospace Engineering.” “I want to make enough money to repay the Bennetts. None of this has anything to do with Caleb Miller.” She clearly didn’t believe me, biting her lip. “Then why do you always ignore him? Why don’t you dare to speak to him?” “Because there’s no need to.” I shrugged. “He and I are not in the same world, and we never will be in the future.” “You can relax. I have zero interest in Caleb Miller.” “Besides, I’m avoiding Caleb, aren’t I? I don’t talk to him at all. That’s the furthest possible thing from a relationship, isn’t it?” “Why are you so insecure?” Having said my piece, I turned and walked away without looking back. I heard her choked-up voice saying something behind me, but I didn’t hear it clearly and didn’t want to. Deep down, I was actually a little disappointed. In my previous life, Maya Jenkins had always been Caleb’s “white moonlight.” And as a Humanities major who consistently ranked at the top of her track, I had assumed she was also a very brilliant, secure person. I never imagined that in this life, she would lower herself to petty jealousy! From that day on, the way Maya looked at me changed, carrying a definite edge of hostility.

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Right before my childhood sweetheart died, he declared he was leaving his entire inheritance to his first love. “Mia is different from you, Harper,” he wheezed. “You were just my caregiver, but she’s a ballerina. She needs to be elegant for the rest of her life. She needs this money to live comfortably.” “Besides, if you hadn’t orchestrated that car crash back then, she and I wouldn’t have been separated.” “You used my gratitude to trap me, ruining my entire life.” “If I had a do-over, I’d rather stay a cripple than have anything to do with you.” He died full of resentment, conveniently forgetting that I saved his life, missing two of my final AP exams in the process. Later, to help him with his physical therapy, I gave up my dream of aerospace engineering and switched to nursing. I stared at the document disinheriting me, nodded softly, and said, “Okay.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of our final exams—the exact moment he stole a car to chase after his first love. I pretended to know nothing. In this life, I don’t want anything to do with him either. 01 The final bell of the school year had just rung. My dad grabbed my arm and hustled me toward his car. As he started the engine, my mom began explaining the rush. “Did you know Liam was secretly dating someone? His girlfriend dumped him today, right before finals, and Liam…” I didn’t need to hear the rest. I knew exactly what happened. It was exactly like my past life. Liam got into a horrific car accident chasing after his girlfriend, permanently losing the use of his legs. The only difference this time was that I watched him drive off to his doom, and then I calmly went back inside to finish my afternoon exams. At the hospital, two exhausted surgeons emerged from the OR. “The crash was catastrophic, and the rescue was delayed. We managed to save his life, but he’ll likely never walk again. If his recovery goes poorly, we might have to amputate.” Hearing this, Liam’s mother, Mrs. Davis, burst into agonizing sobs. Mr. Davis supported her, his own face etched with grief. My parents stood frozen in shock. “It’s a tragedy. Liam worked so hard all these years, only for this to happen right in the middle of finals week.” My dad shot my mom a look, signaling her to be quiet. When Liam was wheeled out, all four parents rushed to his side. I stood back, staring blankly at my own hands. They were slender and smooth. No calluses, no swollen, deformed joints from years of scrubbing clothes and washing dishes in cold water. I had truly been reborn. The two exams I aced this afternoon were real. In my past life, Liam’s first love, Mia, broke up with him on the day of our final exams. Desperate to win her back, Liam stole his dad’s car without a second thought and chased after her. And I, worried sick about him, followed close behind. I witnessed the gruesome crash firsthand. To get him out of the wreckage and to the hospital as fast as possible, I missed my two afternoon exams. I was a straight-A student, easily Ivy League bound, but my final GPA plummeted. I had planned to take a gap year and reapply, but Liam suddenly proposed to me from his hospital bed. He said, “The doctors told me if you hadn’t risked your life to pull me out of that car, I would have definitely lost both my legs.” “You missed your exams for me, gave up your aerospace engineering dreams. I want to spend the rest of my life taking care of you… if… if you’ll have me.” Years of a secret crush suddenly culminating in a proposal—I was so shocked I didn’t know how to react. “B-but, what about Mia?” Liam’s eyes were filled with nothing but hatred. “If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be like this!” “I hate her more than anything!” I hesitated for a day. Coupled with the changing college admissions landscape, and Liam repeatedly swearing he couldn’t live without me, I finally agreed. I gave up my dream major and enrolled in a local nursing program so I could help Liam walk again. For the next few decades, I dedicated my life to his physical therapy. He said he hated having strangers in the house, so I did everything: laundry, cooking, massages, rehabilitation. Everything was done by my hands alone. I took meticulous care of him until he finally stood up again. He refused to succumb to his disability and wanted to start his own business. I was the one running around, handling all the logistics for him. But on the day his company finally succeeded, the day of his launch party… I overheard him asking his assistant, “Did you manage to invite Mia, the ballerina, to be my date tonight?” The assistant nodded, hesitating. “Yes, Mr. Davis. But what about… your wife?” Liam, looking sharp in his tailored suit in the mirror, let out a cold scoff. “Wife? She’s just a glorified maid.” I stood behind the door, humiliated, gripping the fabric of my evening gown until my knuckles turned white. Perhaps karma is real. Liam ended up back in the ICU due to complications from his old injuries. But on his deathbed, he left every cent of his wealth to Mia. He even transferred the meager savings in my personal account—a few hundred thousand dollars—to her. “Harper, she’s different from you. You’re a caregiver; she’s a ballerina. She needs to be elegant for the rest of her life. She needs this money to live comfortably.” “Besides, if you hadn’t orchestrated that car crash back then, she and I wouldn’t have been separated.” “You used my gratitude to trap me, ruining my entire life.” “If I had a do-over, I’d rather stay a cripple than have anything to do with you.” After half a lifetime of backbreaking labor, I was left with nothing but calloused hands and an empty bank account. In my past life, I already paid the ultimate price for my blind devotion. 02 This time, I silently watched Mr. and Mrs. Davis shed their tears. “Your father and I only have one son. We poured our hearts and souls into Liam. He was always such a good, straight-A student. How could he throw it all away for some secret high school romance?” Mrs. Davis wailed. “I asked around. That girl is an art student; her grades are terrible. The SATs don’t mean anything to her! But she shouldn’t have ruined Liam at such a crucial moment! Sob…” My mom sighed beside me. “That girl is something else. Liam gets into a horrific accident because of her, and she doesn’t even show up to see him.” A flash of hatred crossed Mrs. Davis’s eyes. She shot up from her chair. “We’re a reasonable family, but that girl ruined my son! I have to go see what she has to say for herself!” She was about to storm off to find Mia, but before she could take two steps, Liam’s screams echoed from the hospital room. “Mia! Mia!” I followed them in, staying at the back of the group. Liam’s head was wrapped in bandages, his legs immobilized. He was struggling desperately to sit up but couldn’t manage it. Because I didn’t follow him this time, Liam had been trapped unconscious in the car for over an hour before a teacher found him and called 911. The delayed rescue meant his injuries were far more severe. The doctors said the likelihood of amputation was very high. Mrs. Davis rushed over, fighting back tears. “Don’t move, sweetie. The doctor said you can’t move around. Your incisions haven’t healed yet.” Liam looked at his legs, momentarily stunned, then tried to play it cool. “It’s fine. It’s just a broken bone, right? It’s not a big deal.” “Look, I can still move.” He tried to move his legs, but there was no response. His expression slowly froze. With each failed attempt, panic began to creep across his face. “Why can’t I move my legs? The anesthesia hasn’t worn off yet, right?” Mr. and Mrs. Davis stood there with tears in their eyes, not knowing how to break the news. “Say something! Tell me!!” Liam slammed the call button himself. When the nurse rushed in, he started interrogating her. “What’s wrong with my legs?” “Tell me! What the hell is wrong with my legs!!” The nurse was startled. Before she could answer, Liam began violently punching his own legs. “Why can’t I feel anything?!” He was hysterical. It took three people to hold him down. But watching him like this, a strange sense of satisfaction bloomed in my chest. I walked right up to him and said, enunciating every word: “Keep punching them. Right now, you’re only paralyzed. If you keep hitting them, they might actually have to amputate.” Liam froze, as if the word “paralyzed” had physically struck him. “Par… paralyzed?” Mrs. Davis finally broke down and sobbed uncontrollably. Mr. Davis added heavily, “I know the whole story now. You’re in this state because of that girl, Mia…” Before he could finish, Liam suddenly shouted: “It has nothing to do with Mia.” “It was my fault. I panicked and took the car without permission.” I lowered my eyes and smiled. Such favoritism. Even when she’s the reason you’re paralyzed, you still defend her in front of everyone? This accident clearly had nothing to do with me, yet in my past life, Liam relentlessly blamed me for it. The difference between being loved and unloved was glaringly obvious. In my past life, he said he’d rather be a cripple than have anything to do with me. In this life, he can stay a cripple, and I will go to college and achieve my dreams. Everyone gets what they want. 03 This time, I didn’t volunteer to stay at the hospital with him. I stayed for a bit, then went home. But the next day, Mrs. Davis collapsed from the stress. Liam, a minor, driving without a license and getting into a massive wreck had hit the local news. The internet was flooded with comments tearing him apart. Mr. Davis couldn’t handle it all alone, so my mom, feeling bad, sent me—freshly finished with finals—back to the hospital to help out. Seeing it was me, Liam’s initial excitement evaporated. I ignored him. I just sat quietly in the corner playing on my phone. As long as he didn’t die on my watch, I didn’t care. But when the nurse came in to change his dressings, Liam was incredibly uncooperative. “Bed 18, time to change your dressings.” Liam snapped his head around, his eyes bloodshot. “I don’t need it.” The nurse sighed, clearly used to this kind of behavior. “If you don’t change the dressings, your legs will only get worse.” She ignored his protest and reached out to unwrap the bandages. “I said I don’t need it!” Liam violently swatted the tray of Betadine out of her hands. It crashed to the floor, metal clanging loudly. I frowned and stood up. In my past life, Liam had a hard time accepting his disability too, but he was never this much of a bastard. Thinking back carefully, I realized the difference. In my past life, after the accident, I sought out Mia and pleaded with her. She came to visit him the very next day. But this time, the news of his accident was all over school, and Mia was nowhere to be found. He was taking out his frustration on the nurse. The young nurse looked incredibly wronged but still had to do her job. Before she could even touch him, Liam shoved her hard on the shoulder. “I told you I don’t need it! Are you deaf?! Are all you nurses this pathetic? Can’t you understand what a patient is telling you…” Unable to tolerate it any longer, I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. “If you don’t want treatment, just check yourself out. Why are you acting like a psycho in here?” The nurse wiped her tears, took a deep breath, went out, and brought back new supplies. “Bed 18…” I took the supplies from her and tossed them onto Liam’s chest. “If you want to die, hurry up and do it. If you don’t want to die, change them yourself.” The nurse shot me a grateful look and quickly exited the room, looking relieved. Liam glared at me, panting heavily like a rabid lion. “Harper, what right do you have to hit me!!” Seeing the red welt on his face, I finally felt a little better. “Before you talk about dying, look at your parents. Your mom is hospitalized from stress, your dad aged ten years overnight. What right do you have to act like this?” “Just because Mia didn’t come to see you? Why don’t you go yell at her?” Liam fell silent, clearly struck a nerve. After a long while, he spoke, his voice thick with congestion. “Mia… she’s probably at her dance intensive. She doesn’t know what happened, that’s why she hasn’t come.” I ruthlessly shattered his fantasy. “Finals are over. She was at a graduation party yesterday.” Liam pressed his lips tightly together and turned his head away, clearly refusing to accept it. When I came back from the restroom later, he was secretly changing his own dressings. In my past life, my heart broke for him. I did everything for him, spoon-feeding him, washing him. Later on, I basically turned him into a giant man-child. He wouldn’t even take his daily pills unless I sorted them out and handed them to him. Now that there was no one to coddle him, he could manage just fine on his own. When I got home, I checked Mia’s Instagram. She was living her best life these past few days. After thinking about it, I opened my chat with her. I wanted to see how Mia would treat Liam in this life without me constantly lecturing and pushing her.

I’m a professional scammer. I once spent three years pretending to be the “one who got away” for a blind, wealthy heir. After pulling off the ultimate con—faking a pregnancy, having a baby, and vanishing without a trace—I walked away. Five years later, I’m working as a tarot card reader at a weekend flea market. A little boy walks up to my table and hands me a crumpled fifty-dollar bill. “I want you to find my mommy.” Just as I pocket the cash, a woman runs over frantically. “Why are you over here? Mommy’s been looking everywhere for you.” The woman looked incredibly familiar. It took me a second to realize—it was the real “one who got away,” the woman I had impersonated. After a few seconds of stunned silence. I pulled the fifty bucks out of my pocket and handed it back to the kid. “You found your mom. Here’s your refund.” But he didn’t take the money. He just stared at me, unblinking. “The mom I’m looking for isn’t this one.” 01 My hand, holding the fifty-dollar bill, froze in mid-air. After a moment, I turned to the woman, Serena. “Kids just messing around, right? Here, you take it.” She took the money and grabbed the boy’s arm, ready to leave. The kid bit her hand and snatched the fifty bucks back. “This is my allowance! You’re not allowed to take it!” Serena hissed in pain and looked down sharply: “Leo!” She caught herself, then crouched down, her voice softening: “Be a good boy and come home with Mommy, otherwise Daddy is going to worry.” “You guys ignore me all the time anyway! Just go have another one!” Leo pushed her away, sat squarely back down on the stool in front of my table, and handed the money back to me. Serena let out a cold laugh, her gaze full of hidden meaning. “Fine, do a reading for him. Let’s see if his real mommy even wants him.” Judging by her tone, Leo definitely knew she wasn’t his biological mother. So… did Julian know too? When I left, I was still using Serena’s identity. My heart instantly tied itself into a knot. But I kept my composure, took the money, and asked Leo: “Do you know your exact date of birth?” Of course I knew the answer. Ten months of pregnancy, a C-section, pain that made me wish for death. I couldn’t forget it even if I tried. “January 8th, 2020.” He looked at me earnestly. “Daddy said it was really cold that day.” I remember. It snowed that day. The hospital room and the world outside were a blanket of white. I’ve always had poor circulation. Even with the heat blasting, my hands and feet were like ice in the winter. That night, Julian sat at the foot of the bed and warmed my feet. He sat there the entire night. But the person he was warming them for was Serena, not Chloe. I looked at Serena standing in front of me and buried those memories back deep in my heart. Then, I pulled out my tarot deck and put on a show of doing a reading. After a while, I said: “You and your mother aren’t meant to be. You should stop looking.” Leo’s bottom lip instantly quivered. “You’re lying.” “Daddy clearly said that Mommy is in the place with the most scammers.” 02 It’s true, I am very good at scamming people. I’m a professional scammer. I’ve played the role of a parent, a girlfriend, the “other woman”—always getting five-star reviews. I’ve done online romance scams, stringing guys along for a few hundred bucks before breaking up, teaching them a valuable life lesson; I’ve even hung out at high-end clubs, coaxing trust-fund kids into opening bottles of champagne that cost tens of thousands of dollars… But the biggest scam I’ve ever pulled in my life… Was pretending to be Serena and deceiving Julian for three years. Serena went abroad, Julian chased after her, got into a car accident on the way, and lost his sight. From then on, he was depressed and sullen. Julian’s parents couldn’t bear to watch him waste away, so through various connections, they found me and hired me to play Serena. To play Serena convincingly, I put in a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. I learned to play the bass, changed the cadence of my voice, and took vocal lessons. Right, they were musicians. Their indie band was just starting to get some traction when Serena chose to leave the country for a prestigious music program. And the band fell apart. The first time I saw Julian, he was sitting by a floor-to-ceiling window, staring blankly at the shadows of the trees outside. His eyes were lifeless. I used Serena’s tone and told him I was back. But I never expected his very first sentence to be— “Why did you use an erhu for the intro of that demo?” I had imagined countless scenarios where I’d have to flex my acting skills. Maybe we’d hold each other and cry, maybe we’d have a huge fight, or maybe there’d be a warm reconciliation. But I never, ever expected a scenario like this. So, I stammered for a good minute before finally blurting out: “To promote traditional cultural heritage.” The moment the words left my mouth, the room went dead silent. Julian tilted his head, his sightless eyes full of confusion. After a long time. He said, “I want to hear you sing. Our very first song.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, I had practiced every single one of their songs thousands of times. I knew them by heart. Julian played the piano to accompany me. Even blind, he played beautifully. He just could never read sheet music again. When the song ended, he said: “You sang beautifully. Even better than before.” 03 Regardless of whether Julian knew of my existence or not, I was a greedy scammer who only cared about money. I played his “one who got away” for the money. I gave birth to his child for the money. And, for the money, I left cleanly and decisively. I don’t deserve him. And I definitely don’t deserve to be Leo’s mother. Snapping back to reality, I said with a blank expression: “Then you should go to the police station. They’ve caught a lot of scammers there.” Leo’s round, almond-shaped eyes suddenly welled up with tears. He looked so helpless. Serena smirked. “Now we can go, right?” Leo reluctantly followed her away. As he walked, he kept looking back at me, every few steps. Looking incredibly wronged. I lowered my head and began packing away my scattered tarot cards and velvet cloth, piece by piece. Then I adjusted the cheap gray wig on my head and limped away without looking back. Only after turning a corner did I hop on my beat-up electric scooter. Speeding away like lightning. They probably didn’t recognize me. I had never met Serena face-to-face. I had also suppressed the urge in my heart and hadn’t sneaked a peek at Leo for five whole years. Not to mention, I was currently disguised as an elderly woman. That’s how it is when you set up a fortune-telling booth; the older you look, the more people believe you. Because of this, I thought this was just a simple, random encounter. Until the next day. Leo showed up at my booth again and slapped down a fifty-dollar bill. “Can you do a reading and tell me what my mommy’s name is?” I hesitated and asked, “Are you out here all by yourself every day? Doesn’t your family look after you?” He shook his head. “Daddy went shopping with that woman. I sneaked out.” That woman? He didn’t even call Serena “Mommy”. Is his relationship with her that bad? I debated for a long time, but still took the money. After all, being with me, whatever the circumstances, was better than him wandering around alone. I shuffled the tarot cards and gave him an answer. “Your mother’s last name is Starr, but the first name is a bit hard to read.” “If you buy this ‘All-Seeing Eye’ crystal from me for $150, I’ll tell you right now.” 04 This time, Leo was dragged away by Serena, crying his eyes out. Because I had scammed him out of all his toy money, and I still hadn’t told him the first name. He wailed as he was pulled away. “Waaah! You really are a big scammer! Waaah! My Transformers and Ultraman! Waaah!” He definitely came looking for me on purpose. But who told him I was his mother? Julian? Or his grandparents? But regardless of who it was, there shouldn’t be any reason to tell him. The kid’s crying was loud. It drew disdainful looks from the other vendors around me. I ignored them as usual. I hopped on my scooter and didn’t look back. I figured the young master would back off after this. But over the next few days, he kept showing up at my booth. Handing over cash. I moved my booth to the east side of the flea market, then to the west side, then even set up outside a local church, but I couldn’t shake him. The last time. He was wearing overalls and a little backpack, and plopped himself right down on my folding stool. “Big scammer, I want to live at your house.” “…” I quickly packed up my things, looking down, and yanked the stool right out from under him. Leo landed hard on his butt on the concrete. Then he shakily stood up, patted the dust off his little hands, and looked at me with pitiful eyes. He really knew how to play the victim. Just like Julian used to. I suppressed the pang in my heart, ignored him, and walked away on my own. A rich kid from a prominent family wouldn’t be out without someone watching him. It was all a setup. But after turning the corner, I ultimately didn’t get on that electric scooter. Instead, I took a different route, circled back to another direction, and secretly watched Leo. He was still standing in the same spot, his hands nervously clasped together, staring intently in the direction I had left. Like an exquisite, fragile little porcelain doll. His features looked like mine, but his aura was all Julian. The very first time I saw him that day, my heart was involuntarily tugged. I almost cried. But my acting skills have always been pretty good. Half an hour passed. Leo didn’t leave, and no one from the Vance family showed up. …Is this really how Julian treats his own son? Is it because he knows he’s not Serena’s child, so he doesn’t care at all? An unspeakable bitterness suddenly welled up in my chest. I stared at Leo for a long time, and finally walked back to him. “Let’s go. Come home with me.” 05 Leo’s eyes lit up instantly. Sparkling, like colorful glass marbles. “Okay!” He grabbed my hand, his face radiating pure joy. Sitting on the back of my electric scooter. Leo hugged my waist from behind and asked nervously: “Big scammer, are you divorced now? Do you have any other kids?” I froze for a second. To ask those two questions, it seems someone from the Vance family has been investigating me. I thought about it and answered a question with a question. “Want to know? Trade me an answer for an answer.” “Who told you to come looking for your mom?” Leo went quiet. He held it in the whole ride and didn’t say another word. When he got off the scooter, his cheeks were puffed out, looking like an angry little pufferfish. Until we got to my door, and Little Grape circled around him, sniffing him. He was so startled he glued himself to my side. I smiled. “Her name is Little Grape. She’s much older than you, and very well-behaved. Don’t be afraid.” Little Grape is a small Bichon Frise. She was the birthday gift I gave Julian during my first year by his side. After he lost his sight, he was very depressed and needed some lively colors in his life. However, on the day I left the Vance family, I casually took the dog with me. In Julian’s eyes, Little Grape has probably passed away by now. But since she was a dog I raised, she’s probably just as insignificant as someone like me. Leo crouched down and carefully pet Little Grape’s head. She immediately rolled over onto her back, exposing her belly. I almost forgot. Little Grape had sniffed Leo after he was born. “Wow, she licked my hand!” Leo giggled. “Don’t touch your eyes or mouth after your hand gets licked. Remember to wash your hands before eating.” I instructed him as we walked inside. I changed my clothes and took off my makeup. Old-age makeup is hard to put on, but quick to take off. Leo ran over and peeked at me from the doorframe. His eyes were sparkling. I looked down at him, confused. He gave a shy smile and ran away. ……? Are all kids like this? Until I went into his room to call him for dinner, and saw him lying in Little Grape’s dog bed, talking into his smartwatch. His tone was full of bragging. “Mommy is so, so pretty! I got to see her before Daddy!” 06 I didn’t make a sound. I stood at the door and listened. I didn’t know what the person on the other end said. Leo let out a “Hmph.” “So what! I get to hug Mommy and sleep with her tonight.” He rambled on about a lot of things. “Mhm, mhm! There’s no one else at home, and no men’s clothes!” “Mommy bought me an Ultraman toy.” As he spoke, he started getting anxious. “But Mommy is so great, someone’s going to steal her!” …… I felt like I had been scammed. Scammed by this father-son duo. “You can’t sleep in the dog bed, your clothes will get dirty.” I suddenly spoke up. Leo was startled. He hurriedly hung up the call and scrambled out of the dog bed, his cheeks flushed red. I found it amusing. I didn’t ask him who he was talking to; I just took him to wash his hands and eat dinner. At the dinner table, watching Leo stuff his face, I remembered a gig I had seen recently. Playing the wife and son of a rich guy, needing a woman around 30 and a boy around 4. Two hours for a thousand bucks. Looking at it now, it was practically tailor-made for me. So I said: “If you want to live with me, you have to go to work with me the day after tomorrow.” Leo looked up, a grain of rice still stuck to the corner of his mouth, his speech slurred. “Are we going to scam people into buying the ‘All-Seeing Eye’?” “We’re going to go find you a rich dad.” 07 That night, Leo slept in the same bed as me. After I turned off the light, after a while, he slowly shimmied closer. His breath puffed against my face, tickling me. When I didn’t react, he reached out and poked my cheek. It reminded me of the many nights during those three years when Julian would also frequently touch my face. His long, slender fingers would trace my eyebrows, my eyes, my nose, and finally rest on my lips. I would tease him: “It’s not like you haven’t seen me before, why are you feeling my face like this?” Those pitch-black eyes stared straight at me. Even though he couldn’t see, they still sparkled with light. “I want to memorize it better.” Later, I told him I was pregnant. That night, he traced my face over and over again. As if trying to carve it into his heart. “Chloe, marry me, okay?” …… Leo’s little hands were chubby and felt really nice against my face. “Mommy……” “Why didn’t you come see me?” “I missed you so much… Mommy.” He, just a tiny little thing, burrowed into my arms. I couldn’t hold it back. My tears ultimately soaked the pillow. 08 The day I accompanied the rich guy for the acting gig, I took Leo to the restaurant right on time. I had actually been to this restaurant before. With Julian. After he lost his sight, it was the first time he mustered the courage to write music again, and he asked a friend he knew well to release the single. To help him write the song, I studied every single instrument thoroughly. I also unexpectedly discovered that we clicked perfectly when it came to music. He never again asked the kind of questions he did when we first met. “Not bad. Beautiful.” A male voice broke my train of thought. It was the rich guy. His name was Liam. He did have a wife abroad, but he got scammed in the marriage. He felt embarrassed, so he never told anyone. Now that he was back, he specifically hired people to put on a show. To make the lie even better, he even added a kid to the mix. He seemed very satisfied. He kept praising Leo. “So cute, he actually looks a bit like me.” Leo looked up and studied him carefully, then looked at me. It was like he was asking, “Do we look alike?” One with monolids, one with double eyelids—they definitely didn’t look alike. But this was the client paying the bills. So I smiled along. “He does. Come on, call him Daddy.” Leo was confused, but very street-smart. “Daddy!” Liam loved it. He took Leo’s hand and led us into the restaurant. “Be a sweet talker later, call me Daddy a few more times, and I’ll give you some pocket money, got it?” “Okay! Daddy! Daddy!” His voice was very loud. In the private dining room, many eyes shot towards me and Leo. Liam’s friends all offered congratulations and teased him. I smoothly and tactfully handled their comments. Until I caught a glimpse of a cold, aloof face in the corner. After regaining his sight, those sharp eyes had a piercing focus, making him even more handsome. Only right now, there was a faint, mocking smile playing at the corners of his eyes. “Heh.” Seeing him, Leo went pitter-patter and ran over, throwing himself into his arms. “Daddy!” The talking and laughing in the private room suddenly died down. Gazes crossed through the crowd and collided.

I have a high-paying client who frequently commissions me to hand-knit custom scarves for astronomical prices. Until this latest order, when he transferred an extra three thousand dollars with a note: Make this one perfect. She’s the one I like best. The day after I shipped it to him, my gorgeous, brooding, and devastatingly poor boyfriend quietly handed me a familiar package. I stared at it. “…You knit this?” He pressed his lips together, looking almost shy. “Yeah. Do you like it?” I smiled, my teeth grinding so hard my jaw ached. “I love it. In fact, why don’t you knit me one every single week?” 1 I gripped the impossibly soft yarn of the scarf, letting out a breathless sound of amazement. “The stitching, the cast-off… it’s flawless. Roman, you put so much heart into this!” The more I praised him, the tighter my fingers curled into the wool. I was squeezing it so hard the fabric was warping out of shape. His slightly overgrown dark hair fell across his brow, half-concealing those striking, intense eyes. A faint, bashful smile touched his lips. “As long as you like it.” I tilted my head, pouring concern into my voice. “It must have taken you forever, right? To knit something this intricate as a beginner? It’s honestly incredible.” I kept my eyes locked on his face, watching for the slightest fracture in his expression. He paused—a hesitation so microscopic you’d miss it if you weren’t looking for it. Then he let out a soft hum, his voice a cool, clear baritone. “It was a little difficult. But if you like it, it was worth it.” My hands balled into fists before I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his chest. I laughed, a bright, brittle sound. “I love it to death. In fact, why don’t you knit me one every single week?” The air in the room flatlined. Half a minute passed. Then, he agreed. “Okay.” A few seconds later, his hand hovered over my shoulder. “Are you… shaking?” Yeah. With absolute rage. My smile twisted, growing rigid against his shirt, and I forced a wet, choked sound into my throat. “I’m just so happy. It’s the first time anyone has ever made something by hand just for me. I feel so lucky. Just… impossibly lucky.” By the end of the sentence, I was literally grinding my teeth. My eyes were red—not from tears, but from the sheer, blinding heat of my anger. Roman awkwardly, mechanically, rubbed my back. “If you like it, I’ll just keep knitting them for you.” 2 After Roman walked me back to my dorm, a notification pinged on my Depop app. Z: [I need you to knit me one a week. Can you do that?] My thumbs flew across the glass screen: [Five thousand dollars a piece.] Normally, I charged anywhere from a hundred to maybe three hundred bucks for a custom knit, depending on the yarn. I got steady clients, and it was a decent side hustle to pay for my textbooks. That was, until this user named “Z” slid into my DMs. When he first reached out, I had typed up a whole paragraph explaining the different price points for merino wool, cashmere, and cable-knit patterns. He ignored it and immediately transferred a thousand dollars via Venmo. [Just use the best.] It screamed clueless rich guy with more money than sense. If he was offering, I wasn’t going to say no. After that, he became a regular. I even set up a hidden, exorbitant listing on my shop just for him to click and buy. Once finished, I’d overnight the scarves to the address he provided. It was right here in the city. Unsurprisingly, it was a zip code that belonged to an ultra-exclusive, gated enclave in the hills. The kind of place where the driveways are longer than my entire street. But not in a million years did I think “Z” was my sweet, beautiful, perpetually broke, tragically brooding boyfriend. The moment I sent the five-thousand-dollar price tag, my screen lit up. Z: [?] Me: [High demand lately. My rates went up.] The chat bubble stayed empty for a long time. Just as I debated deleting the message and backpedaling, a notification popped up. He had purchased five of my standard thousand-dollar listings. I let out a cold, hollow laugh. I immediately opened the Amazon app, found a bundle of cheap, machine-knit scarves for twenty bucks, and had them shipped to my dorm. Once they arrived, I’d just slap a new label on them and mail them to his mansion. It didn’t matter. I was the one who was going to end up receiving them anyway. After checking out, I opened iMessage. The only pinned thread at the top of my screen had a new text: Roman: [At work. Thinking about you.] My brow furrowed. I hit the FaceTime icon immediately. It rang and rang, the digital tone echoing in the quiet of my room, until it automatically disconnected. Twenty minutes later, he texted: [Manager caught me looking at my phone and yelled at me. Everything okay?] Me: [Nothing. Just missing you too.] In those twenty minutes, I had grabbed my bike and pedaled furiously across town to the dingy little diner where he supposedly worked. I walked in, breathless. “Carol, hey, about that guy from my psych class I recommended—” Before I could finish, the diner owner cut me off, her eyes wide and exasperated. “Look, Harper, I only hired him because you were one of the best waitresses I ever had!” “What happened?” “Day one, and he picks a fight with a customer! He was wearing some crazy watch—a vintage Patek Philippe, or something? The customer made a joke about it, asked to see it, and your boy told him to back off because if he broke it, he wouldn’t be able to afford the repair in ten lifetimes!” Carol pressed a hand to her chest, her face flushed with residual stress. “Who even knows if the damn thing was real? If it’s fake, why couldn’t the guy look at it? And if it was real… what the hell is a guy like that doing bussing tables in my diner? Were you trying to play a joke on me?” A cold tremor started at the base of my spine. My voice shook. “Is… is he still here in the back?” “He quit twenty minutes into his shift!” Carol barked a harsh laugh. “Turned my dining room upside down and walked out without even asking for his tips.” I stood there, anchored to the sticky linoleum. I didn’t know what to say. When I finally stepped back outside, the night wind carried a biting chill. It swept through my thin jacket, and a violent shiver wracked my body. Carol waved me off from the window, her face twisted in disgust. “Go home, Harper. I don’t know what kind of sick game you college kids are playing, but we always treated you right here. Unbelievable.” “I’m sorry,” I mumbled to the glass, though she couldn’t hear me. On the bike ride home, I pulled over under a flickering streetlamp and scrolled through my text history with Roman. I knew he was poor. I knew he skipped meals to save cash. So, whenever I finished a big knitting commission, I would quietly Venmo him a fifty or a hundred bucks here and there for “groceries.” It wasn’t much. But it was money I had scraped together from my own meager living expenses, money left over only after I made the monthly payment on the massive debt my deadbeat father had left behind when he died. My mother and I bled ourselves dry every month just to keep the collection agencies at bay. I thought Roman and I were the same. Two bruised, exhausted people huddling together for warmth in a freezing world. Turns out, I was just a prop in his little poverty-tourism roleplay. And he was cheating on me. All those other scarves I had meticulously knitted over the months—they went to someone else. As the recipient of the one he “liked best,” was I supposed to feel honored? 3 By the time the initial, violent wave of emotion crested and broke, a chilling clarity settled over me. After careful consideration, I decided it wasn’t time to blow the lid off this thing yet. After all, I was currently positioned to extract five thousand dollars a week from this guy’s trust fund. And I didn’t even have to knit the damn things anymore. If Roman was getting off on playing the starving artist and acting out some indie-movie romance with a tragic poor girl, exposing him now would ruin it. His ego would bruise, his novelty would wear off, and I’d lose my golden goose. While the novelty was still fresh, I needed to bleed him for all he was worth. Still. Was there a way to mess with him without breaking the illusion? I sat on my dorm bed, plotting. Three days later, I called him. “Are we still on for our date tomorrow?” His voice was smooth, immediate. “Absolutely.” I softened my tone, dialing up the sweetness. “Is the scarf ready? It’s been a few days, and since we haven’t seen each other, I just know you’ve been working so hard on it, right?” A beat of silence on the line. “…Right.” “Great. See you tomorrow.” The second I ended the call, my Depop notification went off. Z: [Is it done?] I glanced at my desk, where the cheap, machine-made Amazon scarf I’d picked up from the mailroom was sitting in a plastic bag. I read the message and ignored it. Z: [Rush order.] Z: [Can you deliver it tonight? Your shipping is always next-day, so we must be in the same city.] Me: [That’s going to be difficult.] A notification from Venmo appeared at the top of my screen. Z paid you $5,000.00. Me: […Fine.] Me: [Same address as before?] Z: [Yes.] Another notification. Z paid you $1,000.00. Z: [For the inconvenience. Bring it yourself or hire a courier, I don’t care.] I picked up the twenty-dollar Amazon scarf, inspecting it. Honestly? The machine tension was probably more even than my hand-knitting. I opened an app to hail a local courier. It was past midnight, and the estate was on the complete opposite side of the city, tucked high in the hills. The app suggested a $200 fee. I winced and hit ‘Request’. No one took it. I bumped it to $300. I waited thirty minutes. Still nothing. Any higher and I’d be cutting into my own ridiculous profit margin. Sighing, I grabbed a black baseball cap, oversized sunglasses, and a surgical mask. I stuffed the cheap scarf into a nice boutique gift box I’d saved, and snuck out of my dorm into the night. 4 The gated community was a labyrinth of aggressively manicured hedges and winding asphalt. Even after the security guard at the front gate called the house to clear me and gave me a map, I got turned around three times before I finally found the sweeping, modern architectural monstrosity that matched the address. I pulled out my phone. Me: [I’m at the gate.] I pulled the brim of my cap down further, pushed my sunglasses up my nose, and pinched the wire of my mask tight over the bridge. Before I left, I had even spritzed myself with my roommate’s sickeningly sweet vanilla perfume, just to mask my own scent. I absolutely could not let him recognize me. But standing there in the cold, staring at the massive frosted-glass double doors, a treacherous thought crept in. What if he does? What would that scene even look like? But reality quickly informed me that I was overthinking it. A girl in a sleek, tailored wool coat, a Birkin resting casually in the crook of her arm, walked up the driveway right beside me. She punched a code into the digital keypad with practiced ease. The heavy doors swung inward. A blast of heavily heated air rushed out, carrying the thumping bass of a house track. There were dozens of people inside. It was a massive, pulsing party. The girl turned her head, her perfectly winged eyeliner sharp as she assessed me. Her gaze dropped to the boutique box in my hands. “Delivery? Who bought it? Was it Ro? What’s inside?” She reached out, tapping the cardboard with a perfectly manicured nail, though she didn’t try to open it. I kept my mouth shut, my eyes locked on the scarf wrapped around her neck. My scarf. The thick, cream-colored merino wool I’d spent two weeks knitting last month. She rolled her eyes, bored by my silence. “Whatever. Want me to just take it in for him?” Right at that moment, a voice cut through the thumping music. Low, lazy, and magnetic. “Why are you standing out there? It’s freezing.” The girl and I turned at the same time. Roman was leaning casually against the doorframe. His dark hair was pushed back, untamed, revealing the sharp, aristocratic lines of his face. Gone was the brooding, silent, down-on-his-luck college boy. This guy looked like he owned the world. His dark eyes drifted from the girl to the box in my hands. “I ordered that. Bring it in for me, will you?” “Sure,” the girl chirped, snatching the box out of my hands. The amber lighting from the foyer spilled out onto the driveway. Roman stood up straight, preparing to pull the door shut. He cast a careless, dismissive glance my way—but then his gaze snagged on my sunglasses. In that microsecond, my heart slammed against my ribs. In my rush to leave the dorm, I had grabbed the first pair of sunglasses I found. They were a cheap, plastic pair Roman and I had won at a boardwalk carnival game a month ago. One of his dark eyebrows arched upward. His lips parted. “You the seller?” I gave a stiff, jerky nod. He let out a short, derisive scoff, casually looking me up and down. “Wearing sunglasses at midnight? Take the grand I tipped you and buy yourself a decent designer pair. Those look ridiculous.” I froze. With that, Roman turned his back, the heavy glass door clicking shut behind him. The pulsing music and the golden warmth were instantly severed, leaving me alone in the biting cold. I walked slowly down the long driveway until I hit a streetlamp. I pulled the sunglasses off my face, running my thumb over the cheap plastic frame. The paint was already chipping. It was uneven, fading at the edges. When I won them at that rigged carnival game, I was so thrilled. I thought they looked chic and edgy. I remembered putting them on, turning to Roman with a massive grin. “How do I look?” The tips of his ears had gone pink. He had nodded softly. “Beautiful.” Because of that, I had worn them to death. I cherished them. But looking at them now, under the harsh, buzzing glow of the streetlamp? They just looked cheap. Pathetic, even. 5 The next morning, I walked out of my dorm building. As I passed the communal dumpsters, my hand reaching into my tote bag, I locked eyes with Roman. The moment he saw me, the corners of his mouth tipped up into that familiar, quiet smile. My hand stopped mid-air. I had forgotten to throw the sunglasses away last night. I was planning to toss them this morning. Roman closed the distance between us. He pulled a scarf from his bag and gently wrapped it around my neck. The twenty-dollar Amazon special. “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice low and intimate. I stretched my lips into a smile, pulling my hand out of my bag empty. “You knit this so beautifully. I love it.” His smile deepened, not a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “I’m glad.” I let him take my hand. I didn’t even bother trying to interrogate him about his “job” at the diner or the late nights “knitting.” He wouldn’t panic; he’d just smoothly spin another lie. We took the bus to the local amusement park. Just as we queued up for the first ride, a slender, terribly familiar figure appeared in my peripheral vision. It was the girl from the mansion. She was wearing a designer trench coat and carrying the same Birkin. She was staring right at us. Instinctively, I looked up at Roman. He met her gaze. I saw the microscopic lift of his eyebrow—a silent warning. A bright, overly sweet smile bloomed on the girl’s face as she marched over to us. “Roman! This must be your girlfriend.” He gave a noncommittal hum. I kept my face perfectly blank. “A friend of yours?” Roman stared at the girl for a few seconds, lacing his fingers through mine. “Not really.” “Hey,” she pouted, a playful, bratty sound. “Don’t pretend you don’t know me.” She tapped her chin, feigning thought. “Hmm… Roman grew up struggling, right? So my family hired him to tutor me in high school. I guess that makes me his former boss.” As she said it, she looked right at Roman, her eyes dancing with wicked amusement. Roman’s gaze turned icy. “Boss?” “Yeah. You should be a little nicer to your employer, don’t you think? Poor boy.” She beamed. If I didn’t know the truth, my heart would have broken for him in that moment. I would have hated this rich, entitled girl for humiliating my hardworking boyfriend. Knowing what I knew now? I just wanted to laugh until I threw up. Were they seriously flirting right in front of my face? “What are you guys riding? Let me tag along.” The girl pulled out her phone, waving it at Roman. “I actually need someone to carry my bags and hang out with me today. Five hundred bucks to be my personal assistant for the afternoon. Good deal, right?” Roman’s expression went completely dead. He glared at her. “Don’t ruin my date with my girlfriend.” The girl looked at me. “Five hundred dollars is a lot of money. You’re going to stop your boyfriend from earning a living?” “Do you want to earn it?” I asked Roman, my voice totally flat. He hesitated for two seconds. “Might as well.” I dropped the subject. I didn’t say another word. Roman’s thumb stroked the back of my hand. He leaned in, whispering, “I’ll transfer the money to you tonight.” I just smiled. Before we got on the drop tower, the attendant told everyone to remove loose articles, including scarves. The girl leaned against the metal railing, waving us off. “I hate heights. You two go ahead.” Roman pulled me toward the seats. “Scared?” “No,” I said. His lips pressed together. “Well, I am.” I glanced at him. Those dark, bottomless eyes were locked onto mine, waiting. Expecting me to comfort him. Despite everything, the muscle memory kicked in. I reached up and brushed my knuckles against his cheek. You play the part so well, rich boy. When the ride was over, Roman held my hand tightly as we walked back to the lockers. I noticed a small crowd gathered around the cubbies. When we pushed through, I saw my scarf—the Amazon one—soaking wet, covered in a thick, sticky green liquid. The girl was standing there, examining her manicure without a shred of remorse. “Oops. I bought an iced matcha and it just slipped right out of my hand. How much was it? I’ll Venmo you.” It didn’t look spilled. It looked like she had taken the lid off and poured the entire venti cup directly onto the fabric. I looked at Roman, pouring devastation into my voice. “But… you made this for me.” The girl crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “Since when do you knit?” Roman looked down at the ruined scarf, his face completely devoid of emotion. Then he looked at me. “It’s fine. I’ll just knit you another one in a few days.” 6 “Bella. My patience is running out.” Roman was staring blankly ahead, rhythmically flicking a silver lighter open and closed in his hand. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. I was standing perfectly still behind the corner of the churro stand, my eyes cast downward, listening to every word. Bella rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Your little girlfriend reeks of student loans and thrift stores. Aren’t you embarrassed being seen with her in public?” “She’s gorgeous,” Roman replied flatly. “The guys and I have a betting pool on how long you can keep this up. I’m dangerously close to losing. If you’re struggling to shake her, I can help you.” Roman scoffed. “Fuck off. I’m not bored of her yet.” Bella sighed. “You’re sick, you know that? Did you seriously tell her you knitted that scarf yourself?” “You think I’m going to spend hours knitting a scarf just to play house?” A few seconds of silence passed. “Wait,” Bella said, her tone shifting to suspicion. “That scarf you gave me… is it from the same seller as hers?” “Yeah.” His voice was utterly bored. Bella hesitated. “Did you buy different price tiers? Because the one you gave me is pure, heavy cashmere. I looked closely at hers today—the yarn was cheap acrylic. The stitching was fine, but it was absolutely not the same quality as mine…” Roman’s brow furrowed. I could hear the shift in his posture. “What?” Bella let out a triumphant laugh. “The seller scammed you! They probably realized you have deep pockets and started sending you garbage to widen their margins.” Me, hiding behind the corner: … Don’t ruin my hustle, you spoiled brat! I already lost my relationship, am I going to lose my business too?! I pulled out my phone. Sure enough, a second later, a notification from “Z” popped up, demanding an explanation. I swiped it away. I’d play dumb until I got back to my dorm. “You don’t even need to worry about it,” Bella drawled lazily. “Your girlfriend clearly can’t tell the difference anyway. She can’t spot cheap yarn, and she can’t spot a fake poor boy. God, she is spectacularly stupid…” “Enough.” Roman’s voice dropped ten degrees, slicing through her sentence. “I’m taking her to a movie. Stop following us.” Bella clicked her tongue. “Fine. Have your fun for now. Just don’t forget we’re supposed to announce our engagement soon.” My head snapped up. For a second, all the ambient noise of the amusement park—the screaming on the rollercoasters, the carnival music—completely faded out. After a long, suffocating silence. I heard Roman’s voice. Clear. Resigned. “I know.” I turned on my heel and walked away. I don’t know how much time passed before Roman found me. He took my freezing hands in his, rubbing them. “I thought I told you to wait inside the bakery. Why are you out in the cold?” I didn’t say anything. Just then, a park employee pushing a roving merchandise cart spotted us and trotted over, beaming. “Are you two a couple? We’re running a promotion today! Show me your admission tickets, and I’ll take a free Polaroid for you!” She reached into her cart and pulled out a fuzzy headband with cat ears. “These look so cute in the photos.” I shook my head instantly, taking a step back. “No thanks.” Roman’s eyes drifted to the headband, then down to me. “I want to see it.” The employee sensed a sale. “Come on! You’re both so ridiculously good-looking. It’s a great souvenir.” Roman gently squeezed my hand, his dark eyes softening. “Just one picture. Please?” Whatever.

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I had spent six months begging my wife, Janet, to go to the championship game with me. It was a pilgrimage, a chance to see my favorite player’s jersey retired, a final goodbye to an era. But as the final boarding call echoed through the terminal, Janet was nowhere to be found. I’d called her a dozen times. Every single one went straight to voicemail. Then, the notification popped up—a new post from Toby. The caption read: “Shoutout to this legend for pulling two all-nighters and still coming out to support me at the Invitational.” The photo was a punch to the gut. Toby and Janet were at a crowded e-sports arena, their arms wrapped around each other, grinning and throwing peace signs at the camera. I didn’t hesitate. I powered off my phone, turned my back on the gate, and walked toward the customer service desk to check my bags. This game was supposed to be a tribute to a legend’s final stand. As it turned out, it was the perfect wake-up call for the end of my marriage. 1. I didn’t turn my phone back on until my flight landed back in Chicago five days later. Five days. Not a single missed call from Janet. Not even a text. The sky was bruising over O’Hare, a torrential downpour turning the tarmac into a gray blur. I stood at the arrivals curb for twenty minutes, watching the “No Cars Available” spinning wheel on my Uber app. That’s when my phone vibrated. Janet’s name flashed across the screen. Her voice was clipped, cold. “Where are you? Come pick up Toby and me from the terminal.” I didn’t say anything. A week ago, I would have been fuming. I would have demanded to know why she blew me off for a kid ten years younger than us. Now? I just didn’t have the breath to waste on her. “Bennett? Did you lose your tongue?” Janet snapped. “I’m at the airport entrance,” I said quietly. There was a beat of silence. “What are you doing at the airport?” “I just got back from the game.” Silence followed. It took her a few seconds to remember—to realize she had promised to be there with me. Before I left, I’d seen the hospital’s internal shift schedule. My heart had skipped a beat when I saw she’d traded several shifts for “personal time.” I’d foolishly thought she was clearing her schedule for us. I never imagined that “personal time” was for Toby’s gaming tournament. “Where exactly? We’ll find you,” she said. I gave her my location and hung up. Before she could arrive, a driver finally accepted my ride request. The black sedan pulled up just as Janet and Toby appeared through the sliding glass doors. Janet didn’t even look at me. She pulled Toby by the hand and slid into the backseat of the car I had ordered. “Toby’s exhausted,” she said, looking out at me through the open door. “I’m going to drop him off and get him settled. I’ll come back for you in a bit.” Before the door closed, Toby rolled down the window. His smile was thick with a smug, boyish triumph. “Thanks for the ride, Ben. You’re a lifesaver.” I looked at him, feeling absolutely nothing. Just a vast, cold emptiness. Janet frowned at him, though her hand was already reaching out to smooth his hair. “Don’t bother with the thank-yous. Close the window, Toby. If the rain gets in, you’ll start complaining about the damp again.” Her tone was a mock-scolding, the kind mothers use for favored children—or lovers use for their pets. The car was a mid-sized sedan; it could have easily fit three. But in Janet and Toby’s world, there was no room for me. I stood there, my suitcase at my side, getting soaked under the terminal awning. Eventually, I was the only one left. By the time the rain let up, Janet still hadn’t called. Instead, I saw her Instagram story. “Taking the kid to his big game. A little wish fulfillment and five days in Vegas.” It was a carousel of photos. I scrolled through the bright lights and the hotel suites until I hit the last one. My thumb froze. In the photo, Toby and Janet were lounging in a hotel room wearing matching silk pajamas—the exact set I had bought for our anniversary months ago. She’d told me they were “too much” and “not her style.” She’d refused to wear them with me, let alone post them for the world to see. In seven years of marriage, I had never appeared on her social media. She claimed she liked to “keep her private life private.” Apparently, she just liked to keep me private. The things I had spent seven years starving for, Toby had been handed on a silver platter. I had spent nearly a decade trying to melt the iceberg that was Janet Miller, only to realize she wasn’t frozen at all. She just wasn’t melting for me. I locked my phone and felt a strange, jarring laugh bubble up in my chest. It was the sound of a man finally realizing he’d been running a race that didn’t exist. I dragged my suitcase to the airport Hilton and checked in for the night. Going home now would just be an exercise in humiliation. 2. The next morning, I was at the hospital by 6:00 AM. Our hospital is one of the most prestigious in the state. Janet is a primary shareholder and a chief of surgery; I’m “just” an Associate Professor of Neurology. I hadn’t even had a sip of coffee before I was paged to the ER for a trauma consult. I ran into Janet right at the double doors. A pregnant woman had been brought in after a multi-car pileup. She was in critical condition, requiring a coordinated effort between OB-GYN and Neurosurgery. When we were working, Janet and I were seamless. We dropped the personal baggage and operated with a cold, clinical precision. It was the only language we still shared. When the surgery was finally over and the patient was stabilized, the scrub nurse leaned against the counter, grinning. “You two are seriously a powerhouse. Dr. Miller and Dr. Miller… it’s like you can read each other’s minds. It’d be a crime if you guys weren’t together.” Janet’s face darkened instantly. She opened her mouth to deliver a sharp correction, but I beat her to it. “Don’t start rumors,” I said, my voice flat as I stripped off my gloves. “I’m just a staff doctor. I’m hardly in Dr. Miller’s league.” Most of the hospital didn’t know we were married. Janet insisted on it, saying she hated “nepotism” and “mixing business with pleasure.” In the past, whenever someone suggested we’d make a great couple, I’d smile secretly, comforted by the idea that even strangers saw our connection. Now, the comparison made my skin crawl. “So, what’s the ‘dream girl’ look like then, Dr. Miller?” the nurse teased. Janet’s silhouette flashed in my mind—the way she looked in the light of an OR, the way she used to look before she got tired of me. I paused, pretending to think. “Honestly?” I said. “Aside from my career and my bank account, I don’t have room to love anything else.” The nurse burst out laughing. Behind me, Janet’s voice cut through the air. “Dr. Miller, I have a question about the post-op vitals. My office. Now.” The nurse took the hint and hurried off. I followed Janet to her office and sat across from her mahogany desk. “What’s the question?” I asked. Janet didn’t look at the charts. She looked at me. “You didn’t come home last night. Where were you? You know how I feel about cleanliness, Bennett. If I find out you were out doing something…” A smirk touched my lips, cutting her off. “Dr. Miller, we’re on the clock. This isn’t the time for personal matters.” I remembered a year ago, when I’d texted her during a lunch break to ask what she wanted for dinner. She’d pulled me into a hallway, checked for witnesses, and hissed at me about “professionalism” and “boundaries.” I hadn’t brought up our personal life at work since. Janet looked like I’d slapped her with her own rulebook. She sat there, stunned, before her face hardened into a mask of irritation. “Fine. Get out.” As I reached for the door handle, I turned back and gave her a small, polite smile. “Dr. Miller, while you’re at it, could you ask my wife if it was ‘appropriate’ for me to come home last night, given the circumstances?” She winced. A flicker of guilt crossed her eyes, but I didn’t wait for her to process it. I shut the door behind me. Just before my shift ended, I got a text from her. It was a screenshot of two tickets to a Broadway touring show for that night. I knew what it was. An olive branch. A “get out of jail free” card she thought she could play. I sent a final confirmation to my lawyer, checked my rounds, and headed out. I planned to go, if only to use the intermission to talk about the divorce. But as I walked out of the main entrance, I saw Janet’s silver Porsche idling at the curb. Toby was in the driver’s seat. Janet walked right past me, climbed into the passenger side, and they sped off together. Five minutes later, my phone chimed. “Toby had an emergency. Something he needs help with. Wait for me at the theater, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I didn’t go to the theater. I went straight to my lawyer’s office. After we finished the paperwork, I drove to the cinema near my hotel. I picked up a ticket for a sci-fi flick—something Janet always called “childish” and “a waste of brainpower.” I sat in the dark with a bucket of buttery popcorn and a large soda. In the past, I had force-fed myself her “refined” tastes. I’d eaten the kale salads, the unseasoned fish, the “clean” lifestyle she insisted on. But according to Toby’s Instagram, she’d spent the last five days eating tacos and greasy burgers with him. I had spent seven years trying to be the man she wanted, only to realize she didn’t even want that man. There was no other path left. 3. After the movie, I grabbed a beer at a dive bar by the river and sat there until nearly midnight. When I finally walked into the house, I was surprised to see the lights on. Janet was sitting on the sofa. For the last three years, she’d been “busy” with Toby until the early hours, or she just didn’t come home at all. In the beginning, we were the classic “power couple”—two doctors, always working. When she first took over the hospital’s board, I did everything to support her. I’d spend my few off-hours slow-cooking bone broths and medicinal stews to keep her strength up. She’d just called me a ” glorified manny.” She said my hovering was suffocating. Then Toby appeared. The “suffocation” disappeared, replaced by her absence. I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the slight fog from the beer. Janet was staring at me, her eyes icy. “You’re drinking, Bennett? You know I can’t stand the smell of alcohol on you.” I blinked. I didn’t bother defending myself. I knew that her “likes” and “dislikes” were entirely dependent on the person involved. When Toby got wasted at a frat-style party, she was there to tuck him in and give him IV fluids. When I had two beers after a fourteen-hour shift, I was “disgusting.” Double standards were Janet’s specialty. I was just done playing the game. When I didn’t engage, she looked genuinely confused. Usually, when she stood me up for Toby, I’d be waiting at the door, ready to demand an explanation, ready to fight for some scrap of her attention. I turned to head toward the guest room. “Do you even know what today is?” Janet asked suddenly. I glanced at the clock. It was 12:15 AM. “It was my birthday,” I said. “Technically, it was yesterday.” Usually, for the month leading up to my birthday, I’d drop hints. I’d try to steer her toward a restaurant or a gift. If she was in a good mood, I’d get a tie. If she was stressed, she’d tell me that “adults don’t need to celebrate aging.” This was the first time in our marriage she’d brought it up herself. I yawned. “It’s just a birthday, Janet. It doesn’t matter.” She looked frustrated. She reached over to the coffee table and tossed a small, wrapped box at me. Her voice had an uncharacteristic tremor of guilt. “I got you something. Just… see if you like it.” If her remembering was a shock, her buying a gift was a miracle. A year ago, I would have been on my knees with gratitude. I would have photographed the box from every angle and posted it everywhere. I picked the box up off the floor and set it carelessly on the dining table. “Thanks. I’m sure it’s great.” My indifference was clearly driving her crazy. “I know I missed the show. I apologized. But this attitude is getting old, Bennett. Toby’s sister asked me to look out for him on her deathbed. I have a responsibility to him.” I was busy checking a text on my phone. “Right. Total responsibility. Five nights in Vegas with a ‘kid’ is very responsible.” Janet flinched. Her face went from pale to a dark, ink-stain red. She waited for me to keep shouting, to give her something to fight against so she could feel like the victim again. But I just kept replying to my lawyer. Divorce was my only priority now. She eventually walked over, trying to peek at my screen. “What are you looking at?” I locked the phone. “Just some consulting work.” I grabbed a pillow from the sofa. “I’ve been drinking. I’ll sleep in the guest room so I don’t offend your ‘cleanliness’.” I didn’t wait to see her expression. I shut the door and slept better than I had in years. 4. The next morning, the courier delivered the formal separation agreement. I shot Janet a text: Come home early tonight. We need to talk about something important. She replied almost instantly: I’ll be there. I waited until 10:00 PM. She wasn’t there. I didn’t get angry; I just used the time to pack my essentials into two suitcases. At midnight, the front door finally opened. Janet walked in looking flushed and satisfied. She wasn’t surprised to see me waiting in the living room—that was my role, after all. The loyal dog by the fireplace. “Toby’s cat was having kittens,” she said, giving me the same rehearsed line she always used. “I had to stay and help. It was a mess.” I felt a ghost of a laugh. Last month, it was a “leak in his ceiling.” The month before, a “panic attack.” “I’m sure you were a big help,” I said, my voice steady. “Sit down. I have something for you.” She sat beside me, looking bored. As she moved, the scent hit me—heavy, floral lavender. I sneezed. I’ve been allergic to that specific scent for years. It was Toby’s signature cologne. Janet froze for a second, then smoothed her hair. “The hospital switched to a new soap in the doctors’ lounge,” she lied. I didn’t even bother to look at her. I pulled the envelope from my bag and slid it across the table. “Read it. If you agree, sign it. Let’s stop making each other miserable.” I checked my watch. “I checked the forecast today. It seemed like a good day for an ending.”

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