Category: English

My mother-in-law wanted to bring all five of her nieces and nephews from her hometown to spend the summer at our place. My husband, terrified I would refuse, kept following me around, repeatedly asking if I minded. I just smiled. “They’re your family. You decide.” My husband looked at me in disbelief. “You really agree?” Of course I agreed. Even if I didn’t, my mother-in-law would bring the kids over anyway. Only, in this life, you all can choke on the bitter fruits of your own actions. 1 That’s right, I’ve been reborn. I was reborn on the exact day my husband, Mark, told me his mother wanted to bring her nieces and nephews from her hometown to stay with us for the summer. In my previous life, I adamantly refused. First of all, Mark and I had no safety net. We built everything from scratch. We had a mortgage weighing us down, very little savings, and simply couldn’t afford the expenses for that many people. Secondly, our apartment was a cramped 800 square feet. There was no physical way to fit that many people. But the moment Mark agreed to reject his mother’s plan, she showed up on our doorstep anyway, bringing his sister-in-law, his younger sister, and the five kids. Every day, besides scrambling at work, I had to cater to a massive household, managing every meal and chore. If the slightest thing wasn’t to my mother-in-law’s liking, she accused me of mistreating them. I also had to endure the five endlessly rowdy kids and the constant instigating from my sister-in-law and sister. Eventually, due to a minor scuffle between the kids, they verbally abused and blamed me. It escalated until Mark’s emotionally volatile cousin pushed me down the stairs, killing me. After my death, for a measly $10,000 settlement, my mother-in-law’s entire family committed perjury, claiming I tripped and fell on my own. When my own mother heard the news of my death, the shock triggered a massive heart attack, and she couldn’t be saved. Opening my eyes again, I heard Mark hang up the phone. He looked at me hesitantly. “Maya, summer vacation has started. Mom wants to bring the nieces and nephews over to stay for a few days. What do you think?” I took a moment to steady my thoughts, suppressing the deep-seated hatred in my heart, and said calmly, “They’re your family. You decide.” After saying that, I quickly went into the bedroom and started packing my bags. Mark looked at me, bewildered. “Mom and the others aren’t taking our room. Why are you packing?” What a joke. I’m packing because I’m running away. You just stay here and enjoy the massive “gift” your mother brings you. 2 I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue, making my eyes red, and said to Mark, “My mom’s heart is acting up again, and she’s been hospitalized. The doctors say she might need surgery.” “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry, but I don’t know how long I’ll be gone this time. I have to go back and see if she needs the surgery or not.” “I didn’t know your mom was bringing the kids over for the summer. Please explain it to them for me. Since I won’t be here for the next few days, you’ll have to play the good host, honey.” I grew up in a single-parent household, and Mark knew I was very close to my mother. Hearing she was sick, he nodded and, with a pained expression, transferred me a hundred and fifty dollars. “It’s hard for me to get time off work, and Mom and the others are coming over, so I won’t be able to go back with you this time.” “Take this hundred and fifty bucks. Buy your mom some nice supplements.” I kept my expression neutral, thanked him, and accepted the money. In my previous life, I thought I had married a practical, “budget-conscious” man. So, when Mark was stingy with his money towards me and my family, I rationalized it as him being financially responsible. But later I realized that he scrutinized every extra penny spent on me and my family. Yet, when it came to his parents, his older brother, his sister, and the whole clan back in his hometown, he was incredibly generous. Not long after we got married, his mother said they didn’t have enough money to build a new house in their hometown. Without hesitation, Mark transferred the $15,000 we had painstakingly saved right into her account. That was the money we had set aside to start a family. In our second year of marriage, my mom said we should have a baby while she was still young enough to help take care of it. I brought up trying for a baby, having finally managed to save another $7,000. Then, his mother said his older brother’s son wanted to go to an exclusive private boarding school and needed a hefty “school choice” fee. They were exactly $7,000 short. Mark, down to the last cent, sent that $7,000 to his brother. Not to mention the holidays. His mother, obsessed with saving face, made Mark buy expensive liquor and cigarettes for the relatives and give generous cash envelopes to all the kids. Because of this, no matter how hard Mark and I worked and saved, every time we went back to his hometown for Christmas, we returned with empty pockets… Thinking about it now, it’s a blessing we never managed to save any money. I felt so insecure that I never wanted a child. 3 The day after I left, my mother-in-law arrived with Mark’s sister-in-law and younger sister. They also brought his older brother’s son and daughter, his sister’s son and daughter, and his cousin’s son. In total, a chaotic mob of eight people. They squeezed into our cramped 800-square-foot apartment. Seeing that I wasn’t there, my mother-in-law’s face immediately soured. “Mark, where is Maya?” “Did she know we were coming today and go out to buy groceries? Why didn’t she wait for us to get here before going?” “Call her right now. Tell her to buy some good food. Tell her to order some of those King crabs and Boston lobsters. And kids love fried chicken, burgers, and fries—tell her to buy a lot of that too.” “It’s rare for everyone to visit. You and your wife can’t be stingy. You have to buy the good, expensive stuff. Don’t let the people back in the village laugh at us.” Hearing his mother’s demands, Mark stammered, “Mom, Maya went back to her hometown to see her mother. She’s not here…” My mother-in-law exploded. “What?! She’s not here?! As the daughter-in-law of this family, instead of staying home to serve us, she’s running around? She’s completely out of line!” “Then who’s going to wash our clothes and cook for us these next few days? Who’s going to take my grandchildren out to play?” Mark tried to appease her. “I’ll order takeout for you guys, and I’ll take them out to play.” “As for laundry, we have a washing machine, it’s very convenient. And I can cook dinner when I get home from work.” “Besides, Maya’s mom is in the hospital. She went back to check on her. She might be back in a couple of days.” “Mom, just put up with it for a couple of days. When Maya gets back, I’ll make sure she makes it up to you.” Hearing Mark say this, the sister-in-law and the younger sister exchanged a look and pulled my mother-in-law aside to whisper. My mother-in-law finally relaxed her brow and reluctantly agreed. In my past life, Mark thought that bringing five kids into the house just meant making sure they were fed three meals a day. Whenever I complained about being overwhelmed, he would accuse me of looking down on his family and not trying hard enough. Soon enough, he’s going to experience the true power of having five extra kids in the house! 4 Since my mother-in-law and her entourage arrived in the afternoon, Mark easily solved the dinner problem. He ordered several dishes for the adults and a mountain of burgers, fries, and fried chicken for the kids, earning praise from his mother and unanimous approval from the children. My mother-in-law immediately started showing off, taking out her phone to video call the relatives back in their hometown. “Look at this! I told you my son is successful and generous. As soon as we got here, he ordered this huge feast for us. And he says this is just a quick bite to tide us over.” “Mark also said he’s going to buy us lobster and crab tomorrow! See? You guys didn’t want to come, now you’re regretting it, aren’t you?” “Free food, free lodging, and sightseeing. It’s too late to regret it now…” Basking in a chorus of compliments, my mother-in-law hung up the video call, thoroughly satisfied. With their bellies full, the real main event began. The two older nephews, the sons of his older brother and cousin, were in middle school. One grabbed a smartphone and started scrolling through TikTok. The two younger kids fought over a tablet to play games. The youngest niece, his sister’s daughter, threw a tantrum wanting to watch TV. Mark spent a long time fiddling with the projector before getting it to work. After pacifying the kids, a new problem arose for the adults. Whenever my mother-in-law visited in the past, I would meticulously arrange her food, clothing, housing, and transportation in advance. My mother-in-law’s visits were always about taking advantage. She never brought a single change of clothes, expecting me to buy her a completely new wardrobe. The sister-in-law and younger sister followed her lead, only packing a set of pajamas for their kids before coming over. When it came time to wash up for bed, my mother-in-law asked Mark for pajamas, towels, and toothbrushes. The sister-in-law and sister stood by, looking expectantly at him. Mark was completely bewildered. How could he know how much trouble it was to host guests? He had always been a hands-off husband, happily entertaining his hometown relatives while doing none of the work. Because of our past affection, I had always willingly handled all the arrangements for his family. Every time his mother visited, I would have new pajamas and slippers ready for her, buy her two new outfits, and she would even take the slippers with her when she left. Without my advance preparation this time, Mark, let’s see how you manage to keep your hands clean. 5 Urged on by his mother, Mark frantically called me. “Maya, where did you put the pajamas and slippers you prepared for Mom, Sarah, and Amy?” “And where are the spare towels and toothbrushes? I can’t find them.” I feigned innocence. “Mom didn’t tell me to buy those things beforehand.” “Sarah and the others came on a trip and didn’t even bring pajamas?” Mark was momentarily speechless. He paused before patiently explaining, “Mom and the others rarely get to visit. It’s Sarah and Amy’s first time at our place. As the lady of the house, shouldn’t you have prepared these things in advance?” “Besides, didn’t you always handle these things perfectly in the past?” Heh. So he did know that I was the one running around arranging everything whenever his family visited, yet he completely ignored my efforts, taking his role as a hands-off husband for granted. He always talked about honoring his parents, how hard it was for his mom to raise him, and how his older brother gave up the chance to go to college for him, so he had to repay him. But he didn’t even know to prepare basic daily necessities like toothbrushes, towels, and slippers for them in advance. Looking at my mother lying in her hospital bed, I knew it wasn’t the time for a complete fallout just yet. I deliberately acted hurt. “I’m sorry, honey. My mom was hospitalized, and I was in such a rush to get home that I forgot to prepare the toiletries for your mom and the others.” “They arrived so suddenly, and I forgot to tell you beforehand.” “The stores are still open. Why don’t you go buy them some?” I hung up the phone and continued watching the live feed from the security camera in our living room. My mother-in-law crossed her arms, pulling a long face, cursing relentlessly. Mark apologized profusely before leaving to buy the supplies, looking miserable. I watched the chaotic living room through the camera with a mocking smile. This is just the beginning, Mark. Your days of suffering have only just started… 6 After Mark bought everything and everyone had showered and settled down, the kids started acting up. The two older boys refused to sleep, wanting to team up with friends to play video games. The younger ones, seeing the older ones awake, also refused to sleep, running around the apartment fighting and shouting. My mother-in-law yelled at them to go to sleep, but no one paid her any attention. The sister-in-law and sister had retreated to the master bedroom early on to play on their phones, leaving this mess to Mark and his mother. Even though Mark was already exhausted, his back aching, he still had to force himself to stay up and supervise them. We live in an older apartment building with terrible soundproofing, so they quickly received complaints from the neighbors. Someone pounded on the door, shouting from the hallway to keep the noise down because their kids were trying to sleep. My mother-in-law felt insulted and, unwilling to swallow her pride, exploded on the spot, yelling back without even opening the door. “Why is it too loud for you? No one else is complaining! You’re just a busybody! This is our house, we can do whatever we want. It’s none of your business!” The neighbor wasn’t a pushover either. They kicked the door with a loud bang, threatening to teach Mark a lesson if they didn’t open up. Mark didn’t dare act tough. He immediately opened the door and apologized: “I’m sorry, man. It’s a misunderstanding. My relatives’ kids are here for the summer. They’re just excited. I’ll make them go to sleep right now.” Actually, the arrival of so many people at our apartment had already caught the attention of several neighbors that afternoon. Hearing the argument, a few more opened their doors to watch. Some neighbors who had been too polite to complain earlier now joined in, seeing someone else taking the lead. “Yeah, it’s almost midnight. It’s so loud we can’t sleep. It’s summer vacation for you, but we still have to go to work tomorrow.” “The adults have to work, the kids have daycare, we all have to get up early. With so many kids making a racket every day, how are we supposed to live here?” Seeing so many neighbors criticizing them, my mother-in-law grew even more combative. “If you can’t live here, then move! Let me tell you, my son is a top executive at his company. If you keep causing trouble, he’ll make your lives miserable!” The neighbors were so angry they threatened to call the cops. Mark didn’t dare let his mother speak anymore. He pushed her back inside while apologizing profusely, promising to send the kids back as soon as possible. After finally placating the neighbors, my mother-in-law started throwing another fit, threatening to kill herself. 7 My mother-in-law cared about “face” more than anything. Losing face in front of so many people, and then hearing Mark say he was going to send the kids away, she plopped down on the floor, slapping her thighs and cursing loudly. “Mark, you unfilial, heartless son! Are you trying to anger me to death? You’re slapping me in the face!” “We’ve only been here one day, and you’re already rushing to send the kids away. Your brother gave up college to support you, and when you were little, your cousin shared every good thing he had with you. Now that the kids have had one meal at your house, you’re already annoyed and want to send them back. Where am I supposed to put my face?” “I’m telling you right now, if you try to send them back, it’ll be over my dead body!” Mark was terrified of this tactic. Plus, he did have genuine affection for his brother and cousin. He had no choice but to swallow his pride and promise his mother he wouldn’t send the kids back. My mother-in-law looked satisfied. From the looks of it, she planned to stay until school started again. Watching this scene of “motherly love and filial piety” on the video, I sneered. Calculating the time, the cousin was probably already on his way. This time, I was definitely going to steer clear of their family’s messy drama and avoid becoming collateral damage. Before, I had lied to Mark about my mom being hospitalized so I could get away quickly and avoid getting tangled up with his family. Once I got home, I immediately took my mom to the hospital for a check-up. In my past life, the shock of my death caused her to have a fatal heart attack. That was my biggest regret. My mom was still so young. I hadn’t taken her traveling or let her enjoy a comfortable life. Fortunately, my mom’s heart didn’t have any major issues; it was just a narrowed blood vessel. Getting a few stents placed early could prevent the tragedy of my past life. I got my mom admitted, and the next step was to confirm the surgical plan with the doctor. Now, all I had to do was wait for chaos to erupt in Mark’s household again, and wait for his cousin to arrive and deliver the fatal blow. 8 The next day, chaos reigned from the crack of dawn. Before, when Mark and I both had to go to work, we’d grab some bagels and coffee from downstairs to save time. Upon hearing Mark tell them to go downstairs for breakfast themselves, my mother-in-law exploded again. “Mark, do you have any conscience? Your old mother only comes to visit a few times a year, and you expect me to get my own breakfast?” “What did you say yesterday? You promised we’d be well-fed for every meal. Were your words just farts? Just hot air?” “I don’t care! If you don’t buy breakfast and bring it back today, don’t you dare call me your mother!” My mother-in-law’s temper flared. She pointed her finger at Mark’s nose, demanding he prepare breakfast before leaving for work. Mark was sweating profusely, frantically trying to appease her. “Mom, look, I’m going to be late for work. If I wait to buy everyone breakfast, I’ll miss the subway. If I’m late, they’ll dock my pay, and I’ll lose my perfect attendance bonus.” My mother-in-law refused to listen. This was her moment to establish authority; she couldn’t tolerate Mark’s disobedience. Besides, she had already bragged to everyone in the village that her son would serve them three square meals a day. It was only the second day, and he wanted them to buy their own breakfast. If the busybodies back in the village found out, where would she put her face? Unable to argue with his mother, Mark had to sprint downstairs to buy breakfast for the entire family. To save time, he bought bagels and coffee for everyone. Seeing the plain bagels and coffee on the table, the kids started complaining too. “Uncle, I don’t want bagels, I want pancakes and hot chocolate.” “I want chicken nuggets and donuts.” “I don’t want coffee, I want a smoothie and breakfast burritos.” The kids talked over each other. Mark’s head was about to explode, and he finally grew a spine. “Stop arguing! It’s so annoying! Eat it or don’t! If you don’t eat, you go hungry!” Seeing that he really was out of time, Mark grabbed his bag and sprinted out the door amidst his mother’s scolding. He thought he’d find some peace at the office, but he forgot his promise to take his mother out for a big meal today. Seeing that it was almost noon and Mark wasn’t answering his phone, my mother-in-law, unwilling to wait any longer, led the entire clan out the door.

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It was 107°F in the scorching summer heat, and I was standing on the street handing out flyers. My mother’s Bentley was parked right by the curb. She was blowing the AC inside, supervising me as I earned my “cleaning fee.” It wasn’t until I shoved the very last flyer into the window of a Ferrari that had just pulled up. Two minutes later, I pulled open the car door and got in. My mother finally panicked. Speeding down the road, she called my phone: “Who is the man driving that car?” “What is your relationship?” “Have you slept with him?!” I just smiled. “He is a man who would buy me tampons, and who doesn’t mind that I stained the backseat of his car.” “Don’t worry, I’m on my period right now. He’s not that much of a beast.” “He’ll have to wait at least seven days…” 1 Heat waves rolled up from the asphalt pavement in waves, and I felt like the soles of my shoes were about to melt away. Sweat dripped from my forehead, slid down my cheeks, and stung as it seeped into my eyes. My cheap T-shirt had been soaked through for a long time, clinging stickily to my back, suffocating me so much I could barely breathe. I wanted to stand under the shade of the trees on the sidewalk, even if it was just for one minute. But I didn’t dare. Not far away was that black Bentley. My mother sat in the car, staring at me like an overseer. I had two hundred flyers in my hand, and I had to hand every single one out without a single one left over. This was the “task” she gave me today. All of this was simply because this morning, my period came early. When I stood up, I accidentally left a tiny, nail-sized bloodstain on the beige leather backseat of her Bentley. For this one spot of blood, my mother went crazy. She used her six-figure Hermès Birkin bag to smash me over the head, over and over again. The hard metal lock struck my temple, making it throb with pain. “Olivia! Do you think this car is too clean? You ruined my car on purpose! You are exactly like your con-artist father, filthy to the bone! You only know how to bring trouble to people! Disgusting!” I hung my head, silently enduring her verbal abuse. It was like this every time. As long as I made her unhappy, she would bring up that man. The man who had a brief marriage with my mother, and who, when she was pregnant, embezzled a massive sum of money from her company to save his high-school sweetheart—some poor girl from the countryside. My dad. Since the day he vanished, I became the biggest stain in my mother’s life. A living, breathing piece of evidence, constantly reminding her that she had been cheated out of her money, her heart, and her body by a poor boy. My mother projected all her hatred for my father onto me, intensifying it. She firmly believed that the blood of “poverty” and “betrayal” flowed in my veins, just like my father’s. She sent me to the most expensive private academy in the city, but she only paid the most basic tuition for me—just enough to let me step foot through the school gates. She made me wear cheap street-stall clothes, looking like a freak among a group of wealthy heirs. Every day, lunchtime at school was my public execution. My classmates would sit in the dining hall, eating flown-in Wagyu beef and bluefin tuna. But I couldn’t enter that dining hall. Because my mother didn’t pay the two-thousand-dollar monthly meal fee for me. I could only be alone, like a rat hiding from the light, tucked away in the corner of an abandoned utility room on the top floor of the academic building. When I opened my lunchbox, a sour smell hit my face. Inside were the leftovers from what the house staff ate the night before, haphazardly mixed together. It was impossible to tell what it originally was. Blackened, wilted vegetable leaves, solidified clumps of grease, and a sticky, mushy lump of rice. Sometimes, if I was “lucky.” There would even be one or two rib bones inside that had already been gnawed completely clean. It felt like some kind of charity, and at the same time, a silent mockery. My mother called this “tempering.” She said I had to first grind away that filthy, impoverished bloodline before I was worthy of the Sterling family’s wealth. 2 The year I turned 14, a sharp, twisting pain flared up in my lower right abdomen. At first, it was just a dull ache. I thought I had eaten something bad and didn’t take it seriously. But not long after, the pain violently escalated, like a red-hot iron rod brutally churning back and forth inside my body. I was in so much pain that I rolled off the bed, curling up on the ice-cold floor. Cold sweat broke out layer by layer, quickly soaking through my thin pajamas. Supporting myself against the wall, I struggled to drag myself to the living room, begging for help from my mother, who was leisurely applying a face mask. Even my voice was trembling. “Mom, my stomach… hurts so much…” She lifted her eyelids, shot me a glance, and let out a cold sneer from her nose. “What trick are you trying to pull now?” “Your father used that exact same pitiful face to con money out of me back in the day. You father and daughter, you have cheap, lowly calculation carved into your bones.” The disdain in her tone chilled my heart even more than the twisting pain in my abdomen. I tried to explain, but the severe pain made me unable to speak a single complete sentence. Waves of pain hit me one after another. I started rolling on the floor, my vision blackening in flashes, my consciousness hovering on the edge of collapse. I was really going to die. This thought caused me to burst out with my last bit of strength. I struggled to crawl to her feet and grabbed her silk robe. I kowtowed to her. One time, then another. My forehead struck the floorboards, making a dull, heavy thud. “Mom… please… save me…” Perhaps this utterly pathetic, miserable display of mine finally pleased her. She slowly stood up, looking down at me from above. “Going to the hospital is fine, but sign this first. My money isn’t blown in by the wind; you have to remember every single cent I spend on you.” She threw a piece of paper and a pen at me. It was an “IOU.” On the white paper with black ink, it stated that I, Olivia Sterling, due to a sudden illness, voluntarily borrowed the surgery fees and subsequent treatment costs from my mother, Evelyn Sterling. I promised to repay the principal and interest in full once I reached adulthood and started working. The interest rate was five times the bank’s standard rate. In that moment, I finally understood that in her eyes, I wasn’t her daughter. I was just a burden who needed to constantly repay a father’s debt. Through the agonizing pain, I used all the strength in my body and trembling hands to sign my name on that ice-cold piece of paper. Only then did she unhurriedly call the driver. 3 After the surgery, my mother only allowed me to stay in the hospital for two days. She ripped out my IV tube, saying that if I didn’t go back to school, I would fall behind on my coursework. The wound on my abdomen chafed painfully against the fabric of my clothes, but this little bit of physical pain was far less agonizing than the torment of being an “outcast” in that elite prep school. Because I hadn’t paid the few hundred dollars for textbook fees, I could only squeeze next to my desk-mate to share one book during class. My desk-mate was a somewhat cowardly boy. Whenever those rich kids, who took pleasure in bullying me, cast unkind looks our way, he would slide the book a large chunk over to his side, leaving me only an awkward corner. I could only desperately crane my neck, like a starving bird stealing food. During the break, the humiliation arrived as expected. A group of girls wearing exquisite makeup cornered me in the restroom. The leader was Madison, the “Queen Bee” of our class. They pushed me to the floor, and ice-cold, filthy water was poured over my head. It soaked my cheap, washed-out T-shirt and instantly soaked through the gauze on my abdomen. An icy, stabbing pain radiated from the wound. “Hey, Olivia, I heard your mom is the CEO of a publicly traded company. Why can’t you even afford your textbook fees?” “You wouldn’t happen to be an illegitimate daughter, would you? The kind that can’t be shown in public?” Their mockery pierced my heart like needles. That day, they pushed and shoved me, kneeing my abdomen. The freshly healed wound tore open again. Bright red blood soaked through the gauze, dyeing my clothes red. I was sent to the infirmary to be re-bandaged. The school called my mother, reporting the bullying and the unpaid fees. The phone was on speaker. I stood in the office, like a criminal waiting for trial. I clearly heard my mother’s voice on the other end—calm, unbothered, even carrying a trace of a lazy smile. “It’s just kids playing around. Our Olivia isn’t that delicate.” “As for the textbook fee,” she paused, her voice carrying a playful amusement, “I’m doing this to train her independence. I absolutely cannot let her develop the bad habit of getting something for nothing.” “If she wants money, make her go earn it.” And so, I became the only student in that elite private school who had to go collect trash after the final bell. While my classmates sat in various luxury cars with logos I didn’t recognize, heading to high-end restaurants and private clubs. I carried my heavy backpack and walked into the dirtiest corners of the city, digging through dumpsters that reeked of sour rot, searching for plastic bottles and cardboard that could be exchanged for cash. Once, I was digging through a dumpster in the back alley of a high-end French restaurant. I happened to see my mother and her socialite friends sitting at an open-air cafe not far away. My mother saw me. She showed absolutely no surprise. Instead, she lifted her coffee cup and toasted me from afar, the corners of her lips curling into a cruel yet satisfied arc. Like she was appreciating a play she had personally directed, titled “Tempering.” And I was just the clown struggling in the mud for her amusement. I collected recyclables for a week. My fingers were cut, and my entire body reeked of sour garbage. In the end, I only exchanged it all for thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents. The thousands of dollars needed for textbook fees were nowhere in sight. At the very last moment on the day of the payment deadline, my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Miller, called me into her office. She pushed a brand-new set of textbooks in front of me and said gently, “Olivia, the teacher paid for your books.” “Mrs. Miller… I…” I held that stack of brand-new books, and my tears fell uncompetitively. Mrs. Miller patted my shoulder, her tone warm. “Don’t cry. I don’t need you to pay me back. You just need to promise me that you will study hard, and that will be enough.” After getting the textbooks, for the first time, I sat in the classroom with my back straight. I studied like crazy, wanting to repay Mrs. Miller’s kindness with excellent grades. But those good days lasted less than a week. My mother must have seen the crossed-out textbook fee on the billing statement the school mailed to our house. She came to the school and went straight to the Principal’s office. Not long after, Mrs. Miller, who was right in the middle of teaching our class, was called out by the principal’s assistant. When she left, she was still pinching half a piece of chalk in her hand. She only said, “Students, self-study,” and never came back. The class started buzzing with discussion. A strong wave of unease suddenly rose in my heart, so much so that I couldn’t even focus on my book. It wasn’t until after class that I saw it on the bulletin board. A thin piece of A4 paper, yet heavy enough to crush a person—a notice regarding the termination of Mrs. Sarah Miller’s employment contract. My mother was one of the biggest financial sponsors of this private school. To her, firing a teacher was easier than crushing an ant. I rushed to the school gates like a madwoman. My mother was just about to get into her car. “Mom! Why did you fire Mrs. Miller?!” I cried and shouted at her, my voice cracking from agitation. “Why are you crying?” Her tone was completely flat. “Did I fire her? No. It was your ‘kind-hearted’ Mrs. Miller who insisted on being a busybody and ruining my educational policy.” “What educational policy! Mrs. Miller is a good person! She was just helping me…” “A good person?” My mother let out a short laugh, as if she had just heard the biggest joke in the world. “Olivia, I’ll teach you another free lesson today. In this world, the most worthless thing is a so-called ‘good person,’ and all that unprovoked kindness.” “Besides, you need to be very clear about one thing. Everything Mrs. Miller is experiencing right now is because you implicated her.” “She lost her job because of you.” That single sentence pinned me dead to the spot. It was true. It was because I accepted that kindness that I harmed the only person who was good to me. My mother looked at my deathly pale face with satisfaction, turned around, pulled the car door open, and got in. The car window slowly rolled down, revealing that well-maintained, yet entirely temperature-less face of hers. “Oh, right. I’ve already reimbursed Mrs. Miller for your textbooks.” “That money, naturally, still counts as a loan to you.” “The interest will continue to accrue.” 4 After Mrs. Miller was fired, I became the god of plague in the school, someone everyone avoided at all costs. When I walked down the hallway, classmates who had originally been laughing and talking would instantly fall silent, looking at me with a gaze mixed with fear and disdain, before silently dispersing. The bullying from Madison’s clique completely tore off its disguise and became unprecedentedly blatant. They would snatch the brand-new textbooks Mrs. Miller bought me right off my desk in front of the entire class. They used markers to draw obscene doodles and vicious curses all over them, and then, right in front of my eyes, tore them to shreds, page by page. I pounced on them like crazy, trying to snatch those books back. They were the only proof of warmth I had ever possessed. But they pushed me to the ground in a chaotic scramble. The hard floor bruised my bones. I don’t know who unscrewed a bottle of ink. The sticky, freezing blue-black liquid poured down from the top of my head. The ice-cold liquid soaked through my clothes and dyed the scattered pages on the floor black. But no other teacher ever dared to step forward to help me again. They intentionally avoided my gaze, as if I carried some contagious bad luck. They were all afraid. Afraid that they would end up like Mrs. Miller—that because they offered me a trivial piece of charity, their lives would be effortlessly destroyed by my powerful, omnipotent mother. I became a true isolated island, abandoned by the whole world. That day, they cornered me in the restroom again, pouring a bucket of dirty water over me from head to toe. When I got home completely drenched, unable to tell if it was dirty water or tears on my face, I collapsed. I could no longer endure this boundless despair. For the first time, I mustered up my courage and blocked the doorway to my mother’s study. She was elegantly sipping red wine and flipping through a financial magazine, turning a blind eye to my miserable state. Using all my strength, I asked the question that had hovered in my heart for years, nearly tearing me apart: “Why?” My voice was trembling, carrying a crying tone. “Why can’t you treat me like a normal mother would?” She finally reacted. She took a photo frame out of her drawer and threw it at my feet. Crash! The glass of the frame shattered, scratching a corner of the photo inside. In the photo was a man smiling a gentle, clean smile. His eyes and features were identical to mine. My mother finally lifted her eyes, and in those beautiful pupils surged a hatred that was practically overflowing. “Because of this face, these eyes. You look exactly like him.” She stood up and walked toward me step by step, looking down at me as if she were looking at a piece of garbage that completely disgusted her. “Every day I look at you, it’s like looking at a debt collector. A living, breathing piece of evidence constantly reminding me of how stupid and cheap I was back then!” She extended her finger and poked my heart heavily. “Olivia, the fact that I didn’t throw you away the moment you were born is already the greatest mercy I could show you as a mother.” In that moment, the last trace of warmth in my heart, the final thread of extravagant hope for family affection, was snuffed out by her own hands. Thoroughly frozen, shattered into powder. It turns out that not all bloodlines are tied to heartache. The maternal love written in books might just be a fairytale, and the hatred a real mother had for me was bone-chilling, colder than the winter wind. 5 … The static noise in my Bluetooth earbud snapped me awake from my scorching trance. I had just handed a flyer to a passing man. He swatted my hand away with a look of disgust and cursed vulgarly, “Roll away, don’t bother me.” Instantly, my mother’s cold voice came through the Bluetooth earbud in my ear. “Olivia, your posture is wrong.” “If you are begging for a living, you need to look like you’re begging. You need to smile, you need to look approachable. Who are you showing that funeral face to?” She paused, her tone full of mockery: “Do you think it’s that easy to make money? You don’t even stand properly. Who is going to take your stuff?” I twitched the corners of my mouth, forcing a smile that looked uglier than crying, and began mechanically repeating the process: handing out, getting rejected, handing out again. But my mother was still endlessly nagging and lecturing in my earbud. The two hundred flyers were finally handed out until only the very last one remained. At this moment, she spoke into the earbud again: “Do you see it, Olivia?! That red Ferrari that just parked by the curb!” “Quick! Shove the flyer to him! That is our premium client. Catching someone like him is more useful than handing out a thousand flyers!” I numbly lifted my head and looked over, following her words. That red Ferrari was parked by the curb, its engine still running. Gripping that final flyer, which had long been softened by my sweat, I moved my lead-filled legs and walked over. Just as I was about to bend down to shove the flyer through the gap in the car window. The car door was pushed open without warning. A man stepped out of the car. He was tall and stood perfectly straight. Even a simple white T-shirt and black pants couldn’t hide the noble aura radiating from his entire being. He was carefully cradling a tiny kitten in his hands. The cat was only the size of a palm, completely dirty, and meowing with a soft, tiny voice. It sounded like it was acting spoiled, but also like it was afraid. One look and you could tell it was a stray cat he had just picked up. The man lowered his eyes, focused entirely on the little guy in his arms. He frowned slightly, looking somewhat helpless. He lifted his head, his gaze falling on me, and his cold, clear voice carried a trace of inquiry: “Do you know how to take care of a kitten?” I was instantly stunned in place. My brain went completely blank. And right at that moment, my mother’s death warrant rang crazily in my earbud again. The sound was sharp and piercing, almost puncturing my eardrum: “Olivia! What are you staring off into space like a dead person for?!” “Hurry up and hand the flyer over! Let him see your sincerity! You idiot!” I looked at the shivering little cat in the man’s arms, and then I thought of myself. I jerked my head up. Tears burst out like a broken dam without warning, blurring my vision. Right now. This was my only chance. “I do, but can you take me away from here first?” I stared intensely into his eyes, terrified of missing even the slightest hint of rejection. “Please.” “…Someone is watching me.” The man’s deep eyes narrowed slightly. His line of sight seemed to cross over my shoulder, glancing at that black Bentley parked not far away. He didn’t ask a single question. He just pulled the car door open. “Get in.” I practically crawled and scrambled my way inside. The engine let out a roar, and we instantly vanished around the corner. Before I even had time to catch my breath, my mother’s furious voice came through the Bluetooth: “Olivia! You’re crazy! What are you doing?!” “Whose car is that! Get out right now!” I took a deep breath and spoke faintly: “Mom, he is a man who would buy me tampons, and who doesn’t mind that I stained the backseat of his car.” There was dead silence on my mother’s end for a second. Following that was a hysterical stream of curses, even worse than before. “You slut! You are exactly like your deadbeat father!” “You’re both lowlife trash! Like a dog that jumps the moment it sees money!” Normally, I would only endure it silently. But right now, I took the earbud out and threw it out the window without hesitation. 6 Actually, I had no idea how to take care of a kitten. My only intimate contact with a cat was when I was very young. That day, I brought a rain-soaked stray cat back from outside. It was skin and bones, and I put it in my room, wanting to keep it. As a result, my mom found out. She wore that familiar look of disgust and disdain. She had a maid grab the kitten by the scruff of the neck and throw it far out the front door, just like tossing a piece of trash. She pointed at my nose and warned me, word by word: “Olivia, if you ever dare to bring this kind of dirty thing home again, I will throw you out right alongside it, and don’t you ever come back!” On the way to the man’s house, I constantly used my phone to search for tutorials on taking care of kittens. [How to care for a kitten as a beginner?] [Can kittens drink cow’s milk?] [What temperature warm water should be used for goat milk powder?] I read until my head was spinning, terrified that I would remember any detail wrong. I was afraid. Afraid that he would realize I knew absolutely nothing, and then, just like my mother, throw me out of the car. Luckily. When we got back to his house—which was as massive as a palace—and it was time to feed the kitten. This man, Ethan Vance, didn’t seem to be much better at this than I was. He held the tiny baby bottle with a serious expression, but his movements were incredibly clumsy. And I, relying on the knowledge I had just frantically crammed, helped him mix the warm water and test the temperature. He couldn’t spot my flaws. The kitten finally finished the milk with immense satisfaction, curled up in a soft towel, and let out a tiny purring sound. The room fell quiet in an instant. This moment of peace reminded me that this short-lived shelter was about to end. I gripped the hem of my shirt tightly, my fingernails almost embedding themselves into my palms. I can’t leave. I can’t go back to that hell. I lifted my head, meeting his inquiring gaze. I mustered all the courage I had in my life, my voice trembling slightly from tension. “…Does your house need a maid?” Ethan was stunned for a second, then replied faintly, “I have an auntie who cooks for me.” It was an expected answer. But I was unwilling to accept it. This was my only chance. I urgently added, “What about someone to take care of the cat?!” “I can take care of it. I’m very good at taking care of small animals. I can do anything!” I wanted to stay so badly. Because the current me was penniless and homeless. Right at this moment, an inopportune sound echoed in the room. Rumble— My stomach growled. I haven’t had a single drop of water to drink since morning. Ethan’s gaze landed on my face, which was now flushed red with embarrassment. He said: “Let’s eat first.” The dining table was covered in exquisite dishes, the kind of food I had only ever seen my mother eat before. I sat cautiously at the table, my hands resting on my knees, not even daring to touch the silverware. He seemed to notice my constraint and handed a clean fork and knife to me. “Eat.” That single word instantly shattered my initial reserve. I shoved the food into my mouth with total disregard, wolfing it down. I ate too fast and even choked, coughing until tears came out of my eyes. When I finally lifted my head from the food, I suddenly realized that the man sitting across from me hadn’t touched his silverware from start to finish. Ethan just sat there quietly, his deep gaze resting on me, his emotions unreadable. My cheeks burned hotly in an instant, and a sense of shame overwhelmed me. He must think I am uneducated and embarrassing. “It’s okay,” he seemed to see through my thoughts, a very faint curve hooking the corner of his mouth. “The way you eat is very appetizing.” “By the way, looking at your age… you should still be in school, right?” Gripping my fork, I nodded, my voice as small as a mosquito’s hum: “…High school senior.” He frowned imperceptibly. “Then why are you out here… offering to be a maid?” “Also, who was watching you?” I put down my fork, lowered my head, and stared at the dirty tips of my shoes. I was silent for a very, very long time. “It was my mom.” I don’t know how I managed to recount everything. The humiliation, the pain, the despair. Through my barren vocabulary, it became a pale, lengthy statement. By the end, my voice was unbearably hoarse, and my vision was a blur. I lifted my head, looking at him with teary eyes, like a drowning person grabbing onto the last piece of driftwood. “I’m begging you, please give me a job.” “I promise I will take good care of the cat. I can swallow any bitterness.” Ethan listened to my story. There was no pity in his eyes, nor was there disdain. After a long time, he finally spoke, his voice calm to the point of being almost cruel. “I don’t need a maid here.” He rejected me. The very last flame of hope was extinguished. I stood up from the chair, my body swaying slightly from exhaustion. “…I understand. Thank you for dinner.” I bowed deeply toward him. Then I turned and walked toward the grand front door. I should go. Back to the hell I belong in. Just as my hand touched the doorknob, Ethan called out to me. “Wait a second. I don’t need a maid.” “But your tuition, your living expenses, and all the expenses for your future college education—I can sponsor them.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “408333”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Under a trending TikTok video, a woman tagged her boyfriend to watch. [Everyone move over! My hubby loves this kind of thing, let him watch first!] I clicked on her profile picture and froze. She was the girl who bullied me in high school. I would recognize that face even if it turned to ashes. I stayed up all night scrolling through all her videos, then clicked on the boyfriend she tagged. I sent a DM. [You there?] 01 Before seeing Chloe Vance again, I had imagined many times what she must be like now. I thought bad people would eventually get their karma, that she would be living a miserable, impoverished life. But she wasn’t. In the videos she posted, today she was at the Cheval Blanc Randheli in the Maldives, a hotel that costs tens of thousands a night; tomorrow she was flying to Iceland to see the Northern Lights; the day after, she was speeding down the West Coast in a sports car at sunset. Her most recent photo showed her sitting in a black Rolls-Royce, wearing a Chanel suit, smiling brightly at the camera, without a hint of worry on her face. She looked like she was living an incredibly good life. But why did she deserve it? I stared hard at her smiling face on my phone screen. Slowly, that smiling face morphed into her wearing a high school uniform, slapping me while laughing, again and again, until her hand hurt, then switching with the person behind her, laughing as she aimed her phone camera at my swollen, bleeding face: “Smile, Maya! Weren’t you the one who loved acting like a slut the most? Why aren’t you smiling now?!” She yanked my hair hard, her smile growing wider: “Smile!” Chloe’s malice towards me started when the boy she liked gave me a birthday present. He gave me a designer bag for my birthday, supposedly brought back from Europe by his mom. It cost over three thousand dollars, and I was so scared I refused to take it. He got mad and threw it at me, saying if I didn’t want it, I could just throw it away. While I was standing there holding the bag, not knowing what to do, Chloe walked in. She snatched the bag, stared at it for a moment, and suddenly smiled. But that smile looked incredibly twisted, making my blood run cold. “I asked him for this bag for three months and he wouldn’t give it to me. I didn’t expect he actually wanted to give it to you.” She looked up at me, her gaze making my hair stand on end: “Maya, you’re pretty capable, aren’t you.” After that, Chloe started constantly targeting me. My biggest fear every day was school letting out, because I never knew when she would bring people to corner me in the bathroom for a beating and humiliation. During that time, I lived in constant fear every day, plagued by nightmares every night, but I didn’t dare tell anyone. My parents divorced when I was young, both starting new families. Only my grandmother, who had a bad limp, was willing to take me in. She ran a small deli, waking up early and staying up late to sell food to pay for my schooling. I was one of the few students at that private school who got in on a full scholarship because of my excellent grades. I didn’t dare tell the teachers, because Chloe threatened me with my grandmother. I also knew that the school would definitely turn a blind eye to Chloe, whose family was powerful and influential. I could only study harder, hoping to get into a good college early and leave this place. But in the end, I couldn’t even realize that small hope. The night before the SATs, Chloe locked me in the bathroom again. This time, she had people strip off my clothes and take photos. I was locked in the bathroom all night and couldn’t leave, so I didn’t know that my photos had already appeared in various local group chats that night. I also didn’t know that Chloe intentionally had someone go to my grandmother’s deli to show her those photos. My grandmother was worried sick and couldn’t wait for me to come home. She limped all the way to the school to find me. Then, because she was too anxious and didn’t look carefully while crossing the street, she was hit and run over by a fatigued truck driver, dying on the spot. I only found out the news the next morning when the school janitor let me out. I saw stars, my head spun, and I collapsed on the ground, my mind a complete blank. When I woke up, I was already in the hospital. In one day, I lost the chance to take the SATs and change my fate, and the grandmother I depended on for survival. I remember almost nothing about the aftermath of that day. My body was probably in so much pain that it triggered a self-protection mechanism and sealed away that memory. I only remember the teacher coming to see me then. I heard her telling someone else in the hallway with great pity: “She had the potential for the Ivy League. What a shame.” Chloe got away scot-free, only being called into the principal’s office for a scolding. Because her dad was a well-known local entrepreneur and a major taxpayer, the principal didn’t dare offend him. I used the remaining money we had to arrange my grandmother’s funeral. I didn’t have money to retake the year, so I could only find a job at a factory to support myself. Meanwhile, Chloe was sent to the US for college, starting her fabulous life. … I sat on the bed in the dark bedroom, just staring blankly at the pitch-black ceiling. During the hardest years, I often spaced out like this. Actually, life got a lot better later on. After I started making money, I got my bachelor’s degree through adult education, saved up some money, and opened my own online women’s clothing store, acting as my own model. Luckily, I was pretty, caught a trend, and business boomed. Now, I have achieved financial freedom. I thought I had forgotten the past. I thought I could start a new life. But the moment I saw Chloe’s face, I suddenly realized that I had never let it go. I hated her. I hated her to death. I sat there until dawn, my stiff fingers finally clicking on the account she tagged. It was an account with a minimalist line-drawing avatar, with not a single video posted. But I quickly found out his identity. Liam Sterling, Chloe’s fiancé. The Vance family was on the verge of bankruptcy when she was in college, and finally managed to bounce back through an arranged marriage. The Sterling family was the powerful backer the Vance family clung to. It was also the guarantee that Chloe could live such a luxurious life now. Chloe didn’t recognize me anymore. It was truly ironic. She had personally pushed me into hell, and I saw her smiling face in every nightmare, but she didn’t remember me anymore, even tagging Liam in my comments section for him to see. I tapped the chat icon next to Liam’s avatar, thought for a moment, and sent him a DM. [You there?] 02 Three days later, I opened Liam’s chat box for the umpteenth time. He still hadn’t replied. I wasn’t surprised. From the information I had gathered these past few days, Liam was actually pretty clean when it came to his relationships with women. Chloe tagging him was probably just a random joke; she knew Liam wouldn’t be interested. It’s really quite strange. He’s the heir to the Sterling family, and from the videos and photos I found, he’s at least 6’2″. Thanks to his movie star mother, he also has a face that could instantly debut in Hollywood. For such a quintessential tall, rich, and handsome guy, his favorite activity wasn’t picking up girls, playing with sports cars, or showing off his wealth. It was fishing. Yeah, like an old man, setting up a fishing rod by the ocean or a pond and fishing all day. Since sending a DM online clearly wasn’t working, I looked up a lot of information about him, even following him to the bottom of his office building. Liam’s life was very routine—just commuting between home and work, and dedicating one day every weekend solely to fishing. After figuring out his quitting time, I drove my car behind his. Waiting for a red light, I pulled up behind his car and intentionally rear-ended him! With a “bang,” the car in front stopped. Then, Liam, wearing a suit, frowned, got out, and knocked on my window. I smoothed my hair, glancing at the rearview mirror out of the corner of my eye. I had specifically hired a makeup artist who charged five figures to do my makeup, ensuring every single eyelash was exquisite while not looking like I was wearing much makeup. Sure enough, when I opened the car door, Liam’s furrowed brow relaxed a bit. Chloe must know Liam likes my type, which is why she tagged him. He might not be interested in me just because of a face, but at least he wouldn’t feel disgusted by me. I looked up, revealing a perfectly angled face, and apologized panickily: “I’m so sorry, I’m a new driver. I was too anxious just now and didn’t react in time. Are you okay?” Liam shook his head, walked to the back of the car, and took a look: “It’s not very serious. Let’s move the cars first so we don’t block traffic, and we can just go through insurance later.” I nodded. The two of us waited by the side of the road for the insurance agent to finish the whole process. Then I naturally pulled out my phone, opened my Venmo QR code, and handed it to him: “Let’s add each other. We can contact each other if anything comes up!” My attitude was too natural, giving him no chance to refuse. Liam paused for a moment, took out his phone, and scanned me. “I’m really sorry about today. How about I treat you to dinner sometime?” I looked up at him. “No need, the insurance is sorted out. Just contact me on WeChat if anything comes up.” He rejected me as I expected, got in his car, and left. I watched his car merge into traffic, holding my phone, a smirk playing on my lips. Today’s goal was achieved. I hadn’t expected to get close to Liam so quickly; getting his contact info was already a success. I like a challenge. If he took the bait too fast, it wouldn’t be fun. I found all of Chloe’s social media accounts. She seemed to really like Liam, with almost nine out of ten posts being about him. They were blatantly filled with her infatuation with him. The Vance family had been showing more and more signs of decline these past few years. If it weren’t for the Sterling family’s capital injection holding them up, they probably would have gone bankrupt long ago. Chloe Vance. I’d really like to see if she can still live so comfortably without Liam. If God won’t give her karma, I’ll deliver it myself. 03 I stayed up all night studying Liam’s Instagram. He really was a guy with a simple life. He barely had any posts, only showing off on Instagram when he caught a fish. I didn’t initiate a conversation with him; I just waited a few days and posted a photo on my story. Ripples blown by the wind on a dark, deep pool. I held up a large carp, smiling at the camera with my lips pressed together. [Another day without getting skunked!] I waited a week. Liam didn’t like or comment. But he didn’t post on his story that week either. Clearly, he hadn’t caught any fish. The second week, I continued posting. Still a carp, still that deep pool, but this time the fish was a size bigger, weighing at least four or five pounds. [Big catch!] He still didn’t reply. The third week, I kept posting. [Can’t finish catching them, literally can’t finish.] Then I put on a face mask and went to sleep. Early the next morning, I opened my phone. Among the dozens of likes, I finally saw the person I was waiting for. Liam commented: [Excuse me, where is this?] I looked at my phone and smirked. He took the bait. 04 When I saw Liam again, he was noticeably more talkative. “Is there really that many fish at the spot you mentioned?” I discreetly sized him up. He was wearing a black hoodie and gray sweatpants, his black hair unstyled, falling naturally over his forehead. When he talked about something he was interested in, his eyes widened slightly, shining brightly. He looked nothing like the cold, aloof heir in the financial magazines; he felt more like a college student in his early twenties. I nodded: “You’ll know when we get there. I’ve never been skunked any of the times I’ve been there.” Actually, I didn’t know how to fish at all. I had frantically crammed for this just to hook Liam. I found this fishing spot after asking countless people and wandering the mountains for days. When Liam first commented, I ignored him. I didn’t leisurely reply until the next day after posting another story: [It’s up in the mountains, pretty hard to find.] This time he replied instantly: [Could I trouble you to bring me along next time you go? Thank you.] I put down my phone and ate dinner, estimating he was getting impatient before replying: [Sure.] … I cast my line a few yards away from Liam. He didn’t initiate conversation, and I wasn’t going to kiss up to him. Occasionally, when there was a bite, we would glance at each other. I could tell that when I hooked a fish, he really wanted to come over and look, but he was a bit too embarrassed, just pretending nothing was happening while his gaze swept back and forth. From Chloe’s Instagram, Liam was the kind of guy who was a bit cold. He wouldn’t even offer perfunctory politeness for things he didn’t like. He probably grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, and with his excellent personal qualities, he rarely encountered situations where he had to please others or take the initiative. He was used to having others revolve around him. There probably hasn’t been a shortage of crazy admirers throwing themselves at him over the years. If I was too proactive, I’d probably just end up like those other women in his mind, not worth paying attention to. After taking Liam there the first time, I didn’t contact him again, but I figured out his schedule. I staked out the spot every day, ensuring I bumped into him at least once a week. But the process of waiting for a fish was too boring. After our third meeting, he finally started talking to me. “How did you find this fishing spot?” “I’ve been to most of the fishing spots and fisheries nearby. They were boring. I accidentally saw this one while hiking and thought I’d give it a try. Didn’t expect it to be this good.” Once we started talking about fishing, Liam became noticeably more talkative. When he got excited, he showed me a video of him catching catfish in the Amazon River. I was full of praise, and then showed him a photo of me deep-sea fishing for tuna. His eyes lit up, and then he felt a bit regretful: “I wanted to go tuna fishing before, but I’ve been too busy and haven’t had the chance.” He looked up at me, truly looking at me for the first time: “I didn’t expect you to like fishing so much. Girls who love fishing are really rare.” We talked more and more, moving from sports to our favorite music, movies, and books, and then he surprisingly realized we actually had quite a few shared hobbies and interests. We both liked skiing, we both liked Yukio Mishima’s The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea, we both liked listening to Koji Tamaki. We even understood each other’s preferences where we differed. By the time we snapped back to reality, we realized we had chatted the entire afternoon, and the sky was dark. After that, we often fished and chatted together. We even adopted a little stray cat together. This little orange cat was only a few months old. Every time we came fishing, it would lie quietly nearby waiting for fish to eat. Sometimes when neither of us caught anything, it would meow anxiously, urging us on. I named it “Nian Nian,” meaning surplus year after year. Every time I went, I would kiss and cuddle it. Liam wasn’t as interested in it. Every time Nian Nian went to rub against him, he would dodge. He was a bit of a germaphobe and hated getting cat hair on him. That night, when we said goodbye, Liam asked me for the first time: “When are you coming next?” I thought for a moment: “Work has been pretty busy lately, it’s hard to say.” A barely noticeable hint of disappointment flashed in his eyes, but he still nodded politely and didn’t say much more. I didn’t go for the entire next week. It wasn’t until the second week that I finally showed up. Seeing me again, Liam’s face didn’t show it, but he quickly moved his chair closer to mine. “What have you been doing these past few days? Why haven’t you been fishing?” I walked over and pet Nian Nian, who was lying on the ground. He stretched his body lazily on the ground, his little belly bulging. He had gained a lot of weight, his fur was glossy and smooth, looking like he was being taken very good care of. “Have you been feeding him these past few days?” Liam lifted his chin reservedly, his tone carrying a hint of blame: “You were the one who named him, but you haven’t taken care of him at all these past few days.” He quickly became a bit smug: “Of course I’ve been taking care of him. I’ve been catching fish for him to eat every day.” Nian Nian walked over and rubbed against his leg. Liam frowned, complaining: “Can you stay a little further away? You always get hair all over me.” But his hands familiarly picked it up and placed it on his lap. Nian Nian lay comfortably on him. His black jacket was immediately covered in cat hair, but he didn’t care. Instead, he expertly scratched its chin. I watched from the side, drawing a conclusion in my mind. Turns out he’s a total tsundere. I smiled inwardly and sat on the side holding my fishing rod, but accidentally pricked my hand on a fishhook. I hissed and squeezed my finger, and a bright red bead of blood popped out. Liam immediately put Nian Nian down, took a Band-Aid from the box beside him, and walked over with a frown. “Why are you so careless?” I wanted to take the Band-Aid, but he naturally said: “Give me your hand.” “You’re quite prepared—” I looked up with a smile, but swallowed the rest of my words when I met his gaze. Too close. Without realizing it, we seemed to be too close. The bright orange sunset in the mountains gradually faded into blue, darkening. The wind was trapped in the valley, bringing up damp moisture. I could smell the faint woody scent on Liam, subtly drifting over. I didn’t know if it was cologne or aftershave. His pupils were slightly lighter than most people’s, carrying a kind of inorganic, cold clarity, but right now, they were entirely reflecting me. The wind blew my hair across his face. He just stared at me blankly until Nian Nian meowed impatiently from the side. We snapped back to reality at the same time, abruptly stepping back from each other. Liam quickly turned his head, squatting with his back to me, petting Nian Nian’s back: “Stop calling, I’ll get you some food right away.” I burst out laughing. In the dim light, his ears turned noticeably red, and he sat on the side fishing without saying a word. However, Liam, who was usually very patient, kept fidgeting that night and didn’t catch a single fish the entire time. From that day on, there seemed to be a tacit understanding between us. Whenever he went fishing, he would always invite me, and we would go out at least twice a week. Sometimes in the desolate mountains, sometimes on the boundless ocean, sometimes at a fishery he rented out. But, it was always just the two of us. During this time, I constantly monitored Chloe’s Instagram. Her posts showing off her relationship became fewer and fewer, until eventually, she hadn’t posted a single one for several days. I watched coldly, making sure to present my best state and most exquisite makeup whenever I met her boyfriend during the day. This kind of relationship, where we both knew what was going on but kept playing dumb, fermented until two months later, when I felt the time was ripe. That night, while he was holding Nian Nian, I suddenly spoke up: “Liam, do you have a girlfriend?” 05 Chloe posted on Instagram again. But this time it wasn’t showing off Liam, it was: [Some people are just born cheap, they love eyeing other people’s men. Don’t let me find out who you are.] I leaned against the window, exhaling a puff of smoke, and curled my lips into a smile. Looks like they had a fight. Chloe’s relationship with Liam seemed to have always been a one-sided chase on her part. I had looked through his old blog from his study abroad days and his current Instagram, and there wasn’t a single post about Chloe. A relationship maintained by only one person, now with me added to the mix, had finally become precarious. Liam didn’t answer my question today, but we both knew the silent answer. Neither of us spoke that day; we hastily packed up our gear and went home. But I knew that Liam’s heart was definitely not as calm as his expression right now. However, I couldn’t predict whether things would go well or badly. He might not have much feeling for Chloe, but the Sterling and Vance families have had close business ties for years, and the arranged marriage was no joke. He might have good feelings for me now, but how much could it really be? Could it compare to his career? Sure enough, that same day Liam sent me a text. [I won’t be going fishing anymore. Sorry to have bothered you during this time.] He kept his word and really stopped going fishing. I went to various fishing spots every day, but he seemed to be hiding from me, never showing up again. Nian Nian was gone too. I wanted to adopt him, but I searched the entire nearby area and couldn’t find him. Only his profile picture changed, to a ginger cat lying on a rug, yawning. I zoomed in to look closely. That was Nian Nian. … Half a month later, I posted a photo on my Instagram Story of me holding up a fish with another man. The man was 6’1″, with honey-toned skin, his black tank top stretched tight over bulging pecs, one arm slung around my shoulder, smiling brightly. This was a male model I specifically hired, costing $300 a day. Fishing requires skill; just throwing bait aimlessly won’t catch you the right fish. The next day, when I went back to that pond, a shadow suddenly loomed beside me. I looked up. Liam, his face expressionless, sat in the chair next to me, took out his fishing rod, and cast his line without saying a word. But he didn’t even bait the hook. We sat in silence like that for a long time before he finally spoke, his voice betraying no emotion. “Who was that guy yesterday?” I said lightly: “You already have a girlfriend. What does it have to do with you?” He stopped talking. For the next half hour, I kept catching fish, but Liam didn’t catch a single one. He didn’t seem to realize he hadn’t put bait on, the air pressure around him heavy, lost in his own thoughts. I stood up. Having sat for too long, my legs were numb, and I stumbled, almost falling. Liam instinctively stood up and caught me. The moment our eyes met, he suddenly grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me. It was a completely unromantic scene. Around us were just the two of us, not-so-clever anglers, the fish swimming in the water, and an unromantic kiss. Rather than a kiss, it was more like a duel. His force carried an aggressive edge. I didn’t back down, wrapping my arms around his neck and standing on my tiptoes. I don’t know how long passed, but just as I was oxygen-deprived and almost blacking out, he let me go. I looked up at him, panting: “Liam, I won’t be the other woman.” His under-eyes flushed a dark red. It took him a long time to steady his breathing. “I know.” “I don’t want to make excuses, but I want to be clear with you. She was arranged by my family, and I have no feelings for her. I will make things clear to her. Give me a little time.” … That night, I opened Chloe’s Instagram again. She hadn’t posted anything; it was perfectly quiet. But I knew she definitely wasn’t having a good time right now. Sure enough, late that night, she posted several consecutive, frantic updates, finally ending with a few words. [Just wait. I won’t let this go so easily.]

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My boyfriend had a female “bro.” She talked like a classic pick-me girl, and wore a dress the exact same color as mine. I thought she was a “cool-girl” pick-me. Until that day in the pouring rain, when she carried me on her back for three miles. 01 The first time I met Olivia was at a dinner with Nate’s frat brothers. Before we went, Nate just laughed and said, “Liv? Oh, she’s basically just one of the guys.” The moment I saw her, I was genuinely confused. Olivia’s features were bright and flawless, and she was wearing a soft, elegant white maxi dress. She looked up at me from her stool, two little dimples appearing on her cheeks as she smiled shyly. There was absolutely nothing “one of the guys” about her. Olivia had a slender figure, and the white dress made her look incredibly graceful. I, on the other hand, was a bit chubby, and the color of my dress clashed perfectly with hers. Olivia opened her mouth and the first thing she said was: “What a coincidence, we’re wearing the exact same color.” Yes. Compared to her, I looked like a complete clown. I felt incredibly awkward, but I still reached out my hand to be friendly. “Look at her pretending to be shy. She used to be so violent, she’d chase me down the street to beat me up,” my boyfriend Nate laughed, playfully shoving Olivia’s shoulder. Olivia suddenly jumped up, slapping Nate on the shoulder. Her voice was playful, chirping like a happy little bird: “What kind of nonsense are you talking about!” “See? See? Am I wrong?” Nate laughed, dodging her slaps. I stood frozen in place, my outstretched hand hanging awkwardly in the air. I turned my head and watched my boyfriend roughhousing with her. It felt like— It felt like I was the outsider. My nose stung, and I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to watch them play-fight, and I didn’t want to leave a bad impression of being a jealous girlfriend the first time I met his best friend. Until I heard a loud, resounding smack echo through the room. The moment I opened my eyes. I saw a bright red handprint stamped across my boyfriend’s cheek. Nate’s shocked voice rang out: “Holy shit, did you put your whole arm into that slap?” 02 After getting to know Nate, I slowly got to know Olivia. Whenever Nate mentioned Olivia, his mouth was full of praise. He said Olivia was cheerful and optimistic, a true example of a girl raised with old money. I added Olivia on Snapchat and Instagram. Olivia’s Instagram was filled with photos of her surfing in Hawaii. Her slender figure and radiant energy made her look like a white seagull soaring over the ocean. There were photos of her snowboarding in Aspen, and writing papers in a Parisian cafe wearing chic glasses. With her slender, swan-like neck lowered, she looked gentle and intellectual. Even though I felt a bit sour because of their play-fighting that first time. I couldn’t help but sigh to Nate: “Olivia really is an incredible person.” Nate snatched my phone and said, “Hey, why is her profile public now? She used to have it set to close-friends only.” Nate’s casual remark made my sensitive mind overthink. Why did she suddenly make her profile public right after I added her? As I scrolled through Olivia’s feed, Nate immediately leaned his head close to mine to look. He was highly enthusiastic, constantly urging me to scroll to the next picture. After a few swipes, I suddenly didn’t want to scroll anymore. I was jealous. I asked him, half-joking, half-serious, “Do you have a crush on her?” Nate replied with a goofy grin, “Who wouldn’t like a rich heiress? But don’t worry, she doesn’t date.” “Alright, stop overthinking. If something was going to happen between us, it would have happened years ago.” As he said that, he continued staring intently at Olivia’s photos. I locked my phone screen. Through the dark reflection of the screen. I clearly saw his crestfallen expression. It looked exactly like the disappointment and sorrow of not being able to obtain a coveted treasure. 03 Actually, I had probably heard the name Olivia back in college. The very day Nate accepted my confession. He was drunk, repeatedly mumbling the word “Liv” under his breath. A six-foot-two guy, crying like a dog in the middle of a diner. I heard the friend next to him shove him and say: “Enough, Liv just went abroad to study. She’s not dead.” His friend called me, and I rushed to the diner to pick him up. I half-carried, half-dragged him home. By a planter on the side of the road. He grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt and violently threw up all over me. The Emma from back then was so stupid. My heart and eyes were completely full of him; I didn’t feel an ounce of disgust. The highest level of liking someone is feeling your heart ache for them. With blurry, drunken eyes, he looked up and saw my face full of concern. Nate gripped my wrist incredibly tight. The boy’s eyes burned bright like flames. He said, “You’re the only one who won’t abandon me.” Then, as if granting me a charity, he said: “Let’s be together.” I really, truly loved Nate. I gave him all my sincerity and love. But in Nate’s heart, it seemed… Olivia was always there. It was hard for me not to care. But I never asked too much, and he seemed to have forgotten Olivia. Because of my passionate and sincere love, he began to love me back. Until Olivia returned from abroad, breaking that balance. Even though I minded so much. Olivia seemed to do it on purpose. She started inviting Nate and me out frequently. She was like a bird, proudly and arrogantly diving straight into our lives. 04 Olivia invited Nate and me to play tennis. I didn’t want to go, but I also didn’t want Nate playing alone with her. I pleaded with Nate, “Can you just say no? I don’t know how to play tennis, and I really don’t want to.” “But I want to play,” Nate said, looking at me seriously. “But… if you want to play, you can play with other friends. We don’t have to go to Olivia today.” I stammered out my explanation. Nate’s handsome brow furrowed, looking annoyed: “Just because of you, am I not allowed to have normal recreational activities anymore?” “I never noticed you being this unreasonable before. Why are you so possessive?” I went silent. His impatient tone let me know I couldn’t stop him. I had no choice but to change into activewear and go with him. When we got to the courts, Olivia was wearing a pleated tennis skirt, her high ponytail swishing lightly. She looked like a proud little white bird. Her big, almond eyes widened as she tossed a racket directly to me: “Emma, play with me.” “I’m not very… good at this,” I tried to refuse. My boyfriend chimed in from the sidelines: “Just play with her.” “No, I specifically want to play with Emma,” her eyes curved into smiling crescents. Faced with Olivia’s enthusiasm, I had no choice but to accept. Unsurprisingly, as someone who sucked at sports, I was absolutely decimated by her. I couldn’t return a single serve, my slightly chubby figure running awkwardly across the court. Like a clumsy raccoon. I was getting angry inside. Looking so pathetic in front of my boyfriend. Was she doing this on purpose? In contrast to me, she shone even brighter. Beautiful and athletic, she was simply perfect. Especially after the workout, some strands of hair had come loose, and sweat stuck them to her fair cheeks. She looked like a porcelain doll. When another tennis ball rolled past me onto the ground. I said, “I’m done playing.” Olivia held her racket, smiling at me: “Okay. Let’s go take a break together then.” Then, she put down her racket and redid her hair, which had gotten messy from playing. She deliberately held her hair tie in her mouth, facing my direction as she fixed her hair with her hands. Exposing her fair, swan-like neck. The way she looked with the hair tie in her mouth was incredibly beautiful. Honestly, she looked like an innocent, adorable deer exposing its neck. My heart skipped a beat. But I was absolutely certain she was deliberately showing off her charm. Sure enough, I turned around and saw Nate standing behind me, watching her. Without even blinking. 05 I hated Olivia. I hated the powerless feeling of knowing she was getting closer and closer to my boyfriend, but being unable to do anything about it. I lucidly watched Nate’s appreciation for Olivia become less and less disguised. But when I brought it up, he would just say, “Liv and I are just friends.” “You’re my girlfriend, stop overthinking.” Even though he said that, I had a sinking feeling. I was his backup plan, his safety net. He realized that being with me had the highest ROI. He realized I treated him the best. I was probably just the honest girl settling down with him. Blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil, Olivia continued to invite Nate and me to the movies. She sent a screenshot of the booked tickets. Her seat choices were very interesting. Two seats were together, and the other seat was right in front of them. I had already guessed that I would definitely be the one sitting in the front. While she and Nate got cozy in the back. Olivia even sent a pouty, apologetic emoji on Snapchat: “There were only these three seats left.” I complained inwardly, but since Nate insisted on going, I was absolutely not going to let them be alone together. It was a horror movie, too. I could already picture Olivia pretending to be a fragile, scared girl just to sit with my boyfriend. Stupid pick-me. Sure enough, as soon as we got to the theater entrance, Olivia ran over and grabbed my arm. Her expression was pitiful as she said to me: “You don’t mind, right, Emma?” I really couldn’t hold back my anger anymore. But Olivia’s second sentence choked out my fury: “I’ll sit with Emma. Nate, you sit in the front. You don’t have a problem with that, right?” Huh? Olivia actually wanted to sit with me? That last sentence ended on a rising note, carrying a definite hint of a threat. “Alright, alright, Princess. I thought you needed me to protect you,” Nate said, rubbing his nose, trying to play it off as a joke. Inside the dark theater, only the flickering light of the screen illuminated us. I watched the movie while observing Olivia out of the corner of my eye. American horror movies always rely on jump scares and sudden loud noises to terrify people. I wasn’t scared of horror movies. To be honest, I found the real world depressing enough, so I didn’t fear death, much less the ghosts and monsters that could cause it. But Olivia looked genuinely terrified. Her teeth were biting down hard on her lips, which looked like fresh snow-dusted roses. Her elegant brows were tightly furrowed. Her fingers were trembling unconsciously. Was she really that scared? Little pick-me. A terrifying musical cue played, and she let out a small whimper, her entire body curling up in fear. The sight of her 5’9″ frame curled up in the seat was a bit cute and a bit comical. She literally looked like a startled cat with its fur puffed up. I found it amusing, but my smile quickly faded. Suddenly, a horrifying image flashed on the screen. Olivia seemed completely terrified, her shoulder suddenly leaning into mine. With her soft figure pressing against me, the faint, lingering scent of freesia drifted to my nose. “Emma…” her voice was slightly hoarse, like a kitten’s. “I’m so scared. Hold my hand… please.” Her warm breath tickled my ear. Coupled with her raspy, pleading voice, a shiver ran down my spine. Her body was too close. That lingering, soft freesia scent felt like a hand tickling my heart. I looked down at her innocent, clear eyes as she clung to my waist. They were watery and pleading. Like I was possessed, I held her hand. It was ice-cold and smooth. Nate, sitting in front of us, suddenly turned around at that moment and laughed: “American horror movies aren’t even scary.” I tried to quickly pull my hand away, but she gripped it fiercely. While Nate turned his head to talk. Our hands were tightly intertwined under her jacket. 06 After returning home that night, my heart was pounding. Why did this happen? I felt like something wasn’t quite right. The little pick-me I had pictured in my head was secretly holding my hand. While I was puzzling over this. I discovered that all the money in my and Nate’s joint account had been withdrawn. Looking at the bank notification text, the remaining balance was $5.20. There was a total of $20,000 in there. Of that, $18,000 was money I had scraped together from part-time jobs. Money I saved by tutoring and doing DoorDash deliveries during winter and summer breaks. Nate had said that after graduation, we would move back to my hometown, find jobs, and this would be the startup fund for our new life. He was the dream guy I had fought so hard to get. I always spoiled him. I forgave him when he spent money carelessly and when he didn’t contribute to the couples’ account. I ran to Nate and asked: “Why did you take out all that money? That’s everything I saved up doing DoorDash and tutoring!” “Wow, you say you love me, but the second I spend a little money, you interrogate me,” Nate raised an eyebrow, his handsome face looking annoyed. “No, I just wanted to ask why,” my tone became even more cautious. “It’s Olivia’s birthday soon. She invited us over to celebrate, and I bought her a gift.” “Of course we should get her a gift, but since we’re still just starting out, we didn’t have to buy something that expensive,” I pleaded, looking at Nate. Nate raised an eyebrow, a half-smile on his face: “Do you even know who Olivia is? There will be a ton of rich kids at her party. The average gift will be over ten grand. Do you want me to look like a joke?” Noticing my pale expression, Nate reached out and pulled me into his arms: “Alright, babe. If I look like a joke, you look like a joke. We’re a team. This gift represents both our intentions.” “But…” While I was still hesitating, Nate’s expression turned cold. I was terrified of him throwing a tantrum. When he got mad, he could ignore me for a whole week. I was terrified of the silent treatment. I had no choice but to force a nod and agree. I comforted myself by saying Olivia was a good person, so buying her a gift was the right thing to do! It’s just that— I couldn’t help but remember the times my t-shirt clung to my sweaty back as I climbed six flights of stairs delivering food. I think I was starting to hate Nate a little bit. 07 Before the birthday party, Olivia sent me a dress. It was a champagne-colored mermaid gown, with a small cluster of pale pink roses at the bust. Clothes make the man. I never expected it to fit so perfectly and look so beautiful on me. I was a bit chubby to begin with, and my only redeeming feature was my pale skin. This dress practically magnified my best features and flattered my figure flawlessly. I suddenly felt that those twenty grand were somewhat worth it. I had never been a princess. After putting on this dress, I couldn’t help but twirl in front of the mirror, admiring myself. I felt like a sweet little princess smiling in a rose garden. But Nate, sitting on the sofa, crushed my spirit: “Alright, stop admiring yourself. You’re just there to be a foil for Olivia anyway. I really don’t know why she sent you a dress.” Right after he said that, Nate stopped abruptly. As if realizing something, he stared at me intently. “She sent you a dress, but you still can’t compare to her. But why would she want to compare herself to you…” “Could she be jealous?” I was still lost in the beauty of the dress and didn’t catch the second half of his sentence. I asked him what he just said, and Nate smirked and said, “Nothing.” I hated him now anyway, so I didn’t care what he said. He could say whatever he wanted. Olivia’s driver came to pick us up. The party was at her family’s mansion. Honestly, standing in front of the magnificent mansion, I subconsciously felt a bit intimidated. Nate didn’t even hold my hand. He walked ahead with long strides, seemingly eager to see Olivia. The fountain in front of the villa was already decorated with massive bouquets of roses. I was wearing heels and walking a bit slow, gradually falling behind Nate. I reached out to grab Nate in the distance. Olivia had already opened the door and walked out. She bypassed the smiling Nate and extended her hand toward me, lifting her hem slightly as she approached. She was wearing a champagne-colored tailored suit, with a pink rose pinned to her lapel. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, her eyebrows drawn sharp. She exuded an androgynous, breathtaking beauty. She looked like a proud, elegant white crane. “Welcome.” One of her hands wrapped around my waist, and the other caught my outstretched wrist. Her five slender, pale fingers slipped through the gaps of my fingers like little snakes. The proximity made me uncomfortable, and I quickly pushed her away. “Hey, hey, why are you wearing a suit instead of a dress? You look like a tomboy.” Nate, annoyed by being ignored, hurried over and casually slapped Olivia on the shoulder. Olivia, who had been wearing a warm, radiant smile, let the corners of her mouth drop slightly. She said what sounded like a joke: “Touch me with that pig trotter again, and I’ll chop it off.” After saying that, she winked in my direction—a playful and proud little white crane. Okay, okay. Wearing the same color clothes as me again. Ready to compete for male attention again. 08 Olivia’s birthday dinner wasn’t overly extravagant, just a dozen or so people gathered around eating exquisite dishes. The only thing to celebrate was that this meal consisted entirely of things I had never eaten before. Lobster, foie gras, caviar. I ate until I was stuffed. While I was gorging myself, I saw Olivia resting her elbows on the table, watching me with a melting smile, bright as the moon through the branches. Great, she definitely wanted to laugh at me for eating too much. Nate noticed Olivia’s gaze and gave me a subtle pinch. His expression was cold and stern; the subtext was telling me not to embarrass him. I sheepishly wiped my mouth, sat back in my seat, and sipped my wine idly. After the party, the guests all drove away. Olivia’s hair was a bit messy. She had drank quite a bit, and her gaze stuck to me like syrup. Her stare made me incredibly uncomfortable, and I quickly looked for an excuse to leave. But Olivia’s voice rang out: “It’s too late. Just stay over here tonight.” “Sure.” Before I could even speak, Nate accepted for me. “Then Emma and I will stay on the first floor. Nate, you can take the second floor,” Olivia said with a smile. I whispered to Nate, “I want to go home. My head hurts.” Since the party started, I had a headache and felt chills all over. Nate shot me a look. “Just lie down for a bit and you’ll be fine. You’re so high maintenance.” I didn’t know how to drive, so I had no choice but to stay at Olivia’s house. I climbed into bed, wrapping the blankets tightly around me. My body was starting to burn up. At Olivia’s house, I felt too embarrassed to bother her. I wanted to tough it out until tomorrow. I tossed and turned in bed, falling into a groggy, half-awake state. The room was quiet and dark. A massive clap of thunder suddenly lit up the entire room. I realized my body was already burning like a small furnace. It felt like boiling heat radiating from my very bones. I forced myself to try and get up. I needed to find Olivia for some ibuprofen. I wouldn’t make it to tomorrow like this. I was acutely and painfully aware of this fact. I tried to climb out of bed, took two steps, my legs gave out, and I crashed to the floor. The thud pierced the silence of the night. Then my door was gently pushed open. The lightning outside illuminated the person standing in the doorway. Accompanied by the pouring rain. I clearly saw that it was Olivia. The lightning illuminated the distance between us as she walked toward me, step by step, her eyes deep and dark. Her hands were icy cold as she touched my forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me your fever was this bad?” “I was afraid… of bothering you.” I stammered due to being sick, my voice low. “I just moved into this mansion, I haven’t stocked up on medicine yet. I’m taking you to the ER.” “Thank you…” Those slender hands gripped my waist, and then, she scooped me up effortlessly into a tight embrace. 09 She put a raincoat on me, and I let her maneuver me in my hazy state. I even forgot to ask for Nate. Afraid I’d get wet, she secured the hood and put a mask on me. My mind was a chaotic mess, but somehow, I said to her: “Happy… birthday. Olivia.” Her body stiffened. She leaned down, her warm breath hitting my ear. “Why didn’t you say it during the dinner party? Everyone else did. Why did you hide in the corner?” My brain was a tangled mess, but I vaguely remembered. Ah. It was because I was too intimidated. She stood there so radiantly, many people raising their glasses to her. I inexplicably shrank back. But I still remembered I had to wish her a happy birthday. So I took advantage of now, while we were alone together. I said it out loud. “Emma, you idiot.” Suddenly, a shiver shot up my spine from my tailbone. I almost convulsed. I felt my earlobe being taken into someone’s mouth and gently bitten. Cold and gentle. In my dazed state, I was carried into the car and fell asleep in the backseat. I don’t know how much time passed. When I opened my eyes again, I was clinging to Olivia’s back. In my ears was the drumbeat of torrential rain, and before my eyes was a stretching, dark gray highway. The pitch-black night was illuminated only by pools of warm yellow streetlights, which seemed to wrap around her and me. I instinctively grabbed Olivia’s shoulders. “Olivia, put me down. I can walk.” “The rain is too heavy. The car stalled halfway. It’s three miles left, and the hospital is just down the hill.” “Be a good girl, stay still.” “No, you’re so skinny, how can you carry me! I’m heavy, put me down, I can walk myself.” “You’re burning up like a little fireball, how could I let you walk.” Her voice rose, filled with unquestionable resolve. But then, afraid of scaring me, she lowered her voice to coax me: “I work out, carrying you is nothing. Be good, hold on tight, we’ll be there soon.” I had no idea how someone so thin could have so much strength. She carried me, trudging solidly through the pouring rain for three miles. Seeing her afraid I’d get wet, she had draped her raincoat over me. She wore a windbreaker, and the raindrops smashed against her clothes with loud smacks. Some raindrops slid down her forehead and fell from her hair. Falling like a string of pearls. I couldn’t tell if it was rain or my tears anymore. I said: “Put me down, I can walk.” She said: “Silly Emma, how could I bear to let you suffer.” 10 Because of the time Olivia took me to the hospital, I was incredibly grateful. I swore I would never call her a toxic pick-me again. I started actively inviting Olivia over to our place. I humbly and earnestly, blushing, asked Nate for his permission. Nate looked at me with an expression that said finally, you’re being reasonable. Nate was exceptionally eager that day. He ran out to buy Olivia’s favorite groceries, saying he was going to show off his cooking skills. Even though we had lived together for so long, he rarely cooked for me. But I didn’t care anymore. Olivia showed up that day carrying a few bottles of red wine. She smiled and said, “These are from my family’s vineyard in France. We’ll open a bottle to taste with dinner.” Nate was wearing an apron, cooking in the kitchen. Olivia and I sat on the rug watching TV. Thinking about how she carried me to the hospital, I sincerely thanked her: “Thank you, Liv. Without you, my fever would have fried my brain.” Olivia cast a casual glance toward the kitchen, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly. Her clear eyes watched me, holding what seemed like a rippling little spring, emotions gently undulating like ripples. From the kitchen came the loud sizzle and pop of cooking. It sounded like Nate had already fired up the wok. In an instant, Olivia leaned over me. She dropped to one knee, her hands planted on the rug, completely caging me in. Olivia’s face was quite striking, like a western version of Anne Hathaway. She tilted her head slightly, looking at me like a highly excited cat that had just caught its prey. “This is how you can thank me.” Her lips conquered mine like an invading army. Rather than a kiss, I’d call it a ravaging. Bastard, how did she know how to—how did she know how to use tongue? I tried to push her away, but I couldn’t move her at all. This was absolutely not a peaceful, moonlight-gentle kiss. It was like two wild beasts tearing into each other in the wilderness, branding each other with their mark. The cooking noises in the kitchen crackled and popped. Olivia and I kissed until the world spun. “My tongue is very agile, isn’t it.” Her voice was husky, carrying a bewitching edge. She was so skinny, her chest completely flat. Pressed against mine, it actually hurt. We desperately explored each other’s secrets, urgent, fierce, passionate. Suddenly— The cooking noises in the kitchen stopped. Olivia and I quickly separated. Olivia casually picked up a sparkling water from the table and took a sip. I wiped my lips and started fiddling with a plushie on the table. Sure enough, when people are nervous, they look for something to do. Nate walked out carrying dishes. Seeing us, he smiled and said: “You guys must be hungry. Dinner’s ready.”

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It was crawfish season again. I pulled up my ex’s contact and texted him: “Get back together?” He replied: “No, I’m seeing someone new.” “Stop using these childish tricks to try and win me back. It’s stupid.” I slowly typed back: “Oh.” “Then do you and your new girl want some crawfish?” 01 “I’m downstairs at your apartment.” I spoke quietly into the phone. “I brought fifteen pounds of crawfish.” The sound on the other end of the line abruptly stopped. Caleb seemed to be in disbelief, or maybe he just thought the whole thing was absurd. Then I heard him take a deep breath. Lowering his voice, he asked through gritted teeth, “What did you just say?” “Repeat what you just said to me!” I hadn’t realized Caleb was already going deaf at such a young age. I paused, then quietly repeated myself: “That crawfish place we always go to is running a special. Buy five pounds, get two free.” “And so you bought ten pounds?!” Caleb’s voice suddenly spiked. Even through the phone, I could hear him losing his mind. “Maya, are you crazy?!” I silently pulled the phone a little further away from my ear. I waited a good while. After Caleb seemed to have calmed down slightly on his end, I brought the phone back and carefully asked, “So, do you and your new girl want to eat some crawfish?” “Get lost!” Caleb roared his final sentence into the receiver and hung up cleanly. I stood downstairs outside his apartment complex, holding the massive bags of crawfish. I looked up at the floor where he lived and let out a deep sigh. Well, this was a disaster. I’d calculated everything, but I hadn’t calculated that Caleb would have a new girlfriend. I had no idea how long it would take me to peel these fifteen pounds of crawfish by myself. I sat on the planter outside Caleb’s building for a while, feeling a bit lost. For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. I opened my contact list, wondering who I could ask to help me polish off this mountain of food. But at this hour, everyone had just finished dinner. They wouldn’t have the stomach space. I sighed again, stood up, and grabbed the four huge bags, preparing to head to the complex entrance to call an Uber. I hadn’t walked far when I bumped into Caleb. His face was ashen. I had no idea when he’d come downstairs. He stood stiffly in front of me. He didn’t speak; he just stared at me coldly, staring inexplicably for a long time. I blinked, hoisted the bags of crawfish, and asked, “Fresh out of the pot. Want some?” Caleb’s face was dark. He took two bags from my hands and turned to leave without saying a single word. “Wait a second!” I couldn’t help but call out to stop him. Caleb turned sideways to look at me. His lips were pressed tightly together, but his eyebrows raised slightly. Caleb and I had been together for four years. I knew all his little habits intimately. You could say I knew him too well. He didn’t even need to speak for me to know what he was trying to convey. Just like right now. He wanted to say, “Spit it out, I don’t have all night.” But he was too lazy to open his mouth. A cold stare and a raised eyebrow were enough for me to understand. I paused for a moment, then quietly said, “Five pounds of crawfish is thirty-five dollars.” Caleb’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. I met his gaze in silence. After a long moment, I heard Caleb let out a cold laugh. “Fine! Fine!” “Maya, you really are something else!” “If I ever pay any attention to you again, I’m a dog!” After Caleb Venmo’d me the money, he didn’t look at me again and quickly walked away. Before he left, I saw him angrily kick a trash can on the street. The trash can sustained minor injuries; Caleb sustained major ones. He curled in on himself for a second in pain. But he insisted on acting like nothing happened, limping away into the distance. 02 That night, Caleb, who rarely posted on Instagram, suddenly uploaded a story. In the video, he was meticulously peeling an entire bowl full of crawfish meat. Then, he pushed the bowl in front of a pretty girl wearing a breezy top and light-ash-brown hair. The moment the girl smiled, puckered her lips, and leaned in, the video abruptly ended. I silently liked the video, then turned off my phone screen and stared blankly at the crawfish in my hands. Actually, I had thought about Caleb getting a new girlfriend. I just didn’t expect that day to come so quickly. When we broke up, Caleb’s eyes had been red. He’d bitten his lip hard and said to me through clenched teeth, “Maya, if you dare find another man, I will haunt you even as a ghost!” Caleb said he would wait for me forever. I believed him. But six months later, he had a new girlfriend. I silently ate a piece of the crawfish I’d peeled by hand. It tasted a bit sour and bitter. It used to be so delicious. Caleb and I would go eat it so many times every summer. But eating it today, I felt the taste was off. Something was always missing. I silently opened my chat with Caleb, wanting to ask him if the crawfish tasted different this time. But just as I finished typing the message, I realized something. Caleb seemed to have a new girlfriend. It probably wasn’t a good idea for an ex like me to keep bothering him. I slowly deleted the text in the chat box, letter by letter. Just as I deleted the last word, I saw that Caleb’s profile picture, which hadn’t changed in years, had updated. It was now a picture of that girl with the light-ash-brown hair. The next second, I saw a message from Caleb pop up: “Let’s just delete each other.” “I’m worried my girlfriend will get upset.” I didn’t reply. I stared at those two sentences for a long time. I wanted to reply “Okay,” but I was afraid I’d get the red exclamation mark showing I’d been blocked. I thought about it for a long time. I didn’t reply, nor did I block or delete Caleb. Whatever. He had definitely already deleted me anyway. Whether I deleted him or not didn’t really matter. I silently spat out the crawfish meat in my mouth, losing my appetite for the remaining six pounds. I went to the kitchen to wash my hands. When I came out, a text message popped up on my phone screen. I glanced at it casually and saw it was from Caleb. It just said: “Test.” It was a random, out-of-context message, and it was immediately “unsent” with blazing speed. I was confused and sent a question mark back. The next second, a red exclamation mark popped up in the chat box. Message Not Delivered. This time, Caleb had truly blocked me. I held my phone in silence for a long time. Ten minutes later, after some thought, I sent a message to the account that had blocked me: “Well, I guess I can move on too.” I hit send, and it went through successfully. There was no red exclamation mark in front of the sentence. I froze for a moment, then belatedly realized what had happened. Caleb hadn’t deleted me. He had just blocked me, then unblocked me a moment later. Caleb’s status showed “typing…” for a long time. He typed for ages before I finally saw him send: “Oh.” “Suit yourself.” I looked at those words, my eyelashes trembling slightly. I tapped on his profile picture and stared at it for a while, then pursed my lips and deleted him from my contacts. It was just like eating too much crawfish; it’s bad for your body. Caleb had a girlfriend now. It was time for me to look forward, too. 03 I was thinking very clearly. So, at work, when the nice lady from accounting asked again if she could introduce her younger brother to me, I didn’t smile and change the subject to decline like I usually did. Instead, I smiled and said, “Sure! Give me his number!” “We can get to know each other first.” That same day, I added Julian—no, wait, I can’t use that name. I added Liam’s contact info and sent a simple greeting. The other party didn’t seem to have much interest in chatting. I’m not the type to force a conversation on someone who’s giving me the cold shoulder, either. After two or three awkward exchanges, the conversation died. I figured Liam probably wouldn’t initiate contact again. I didn’t expect his sister to like me so much! That day after work, she asked her brother to pick her up. Then she found an excuse to treat me to dinner. She brought me and Liam to a restaurant, and then immediately claimed she had to use the restroom and disappeared, leaving Liam and me staring at each other awkwardly. It was our first time meeting, and we were both a bit embarrassed, unsure of what to say. “I’m actually not that hungry,” I hesitated for a moment, then suggested quietly, “How about we just leave?” Liam nodded hastily, agreeing completely. But just as Liam and I were about to get up and leave, the waiter started bringing out food. That’s when I realized that before his sister left, she hadn’t just thoughtfully ordered for us—she had also paid the bill! Now it felt really rude not to eat. Liam sat back down, rubbing his temples, and looked at me helplessly. “Sorry about this. My sister’s antics are sometimes so frustrating.” I burst out laughing and said, “It’s fine. I actually think she’s a great person with a great personality.” Liam looked at me in disbelief. After a long silence, he replied, “I finally know why she likes you so much.” “No wonder she’s always going on and on in my ear about how great you are.” “She’s talked about it so much my ears are bleeding.” I blinked, intrigued, wanting to know what his sister had said about me. Once that topic came up, Liam wasn’t tired or awkward anymore. He perked up, determined to spill some tea about his sister. I listened and laughed, and the two of us slowly started getting along really well. Just as Liam and I were hitting it off, a cold laugh came from above our heads. “Heh.” I looked up and met Caleb’s mocking expression. “What a coincidence. Your new boyfriend?” I paused, momentarily unsure of how to explain. But Caleb didn’t seem to need my explanation. He just stared at me fixedly, gritting his teeth as he enunciated every word: “This restaurant is full.” “Mind if my girlfriend and I sit with you guys?” 04 Without waiting for me or Liam to decline, Caleb had already brought his girlfriend over and sat down at our table as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I had been afraid Caleb was here to start trouble, but it turned out he really did just want to share the table. After sitting down, he didn’t look at me again. Instead, he leaned his head close to the girl beside him and started ordering food on his phone. When he saw an interesting dish, Caleb would lean into her ear and whisper something, quickly eliciting low giggles from her. She leaned into Caleb’s chest, laughing non-stop. The two of them looked exceptionally intimate and sweet, making Liam and me look a bit awkward in comparison. Especially when Caleb occasionally looked up and his gaze swept over Liam sitting next to me. His eyes were not exactly friendly. Liam, sitting beside me, was given several hard looks by Caleb. Feeling a bit awkward, he couldn’t help but send me a text: “Are these your friends?” I had no intention of hiding anything, so I replied concisely: “Yeah, the guy is my ex.” “The girl next to him should be his current girlfriend.” Talk about a showdown between the ex and the current! Liam looked down at the message, and for a moment, he couldn’t hold it back. He almost choked on the lemon water in his mouth, nearly spraying it everywhere. Caleb didn’t hesitate at all; he immediately shielded his girlfriend. I quickly grabbed some napkins and handed them to Liam, terrified he was actually going to spit water everywhere. “I’m fine.” Liam clumsily tried to take the napkins I offered, but accidentally grabbed my hand instead. The next second, as if my hand had burned him, he hastily let go, his face flushing bright red. “Sorry.” Liam turned his head and apologized somewhat bashfully near my ear. I turned my head, intending to say something to him as well, but as soon as I looked up, I caught sight of the tips of his ears, which were tinged with red. Because we were so close, I could even clearly see the lingering blush on Liam’s cheeks and the fine peach fuzz on his face. I had meant to say it was fine, but what came out of my mouth was: “I didn’t expect you to be so shy.” “Have you never dated before?” Otherwise, why would he blush so furiously just from simply brushing a girl’s hand? Liam suddenly started coughing violently again, his entire face turning beet red. I quickly handed him some water and patted his back to help him catch his breath. After fussing for a good while, Liam finally recovered. He gave me a somewhat resentful look, and I couldn’t help but let out a muffled laugh. At the exact second I laughed, there was a sudden, loud CRASH of glass shattering on the floor nearby, startling Liam and me. I instinctively turned to look and saw only shards of glass scattered across the floor, along with Caleb’s expressionless face. Meeting the gazes of Liam and me, Caleb pulled his hand back, lowered his eyes, and said in a completely flat voice: “Sorry, my hand slipped.” 05 “Sorry about that. Scared you guys, huh?” Caleb gave Liam a long, hard look and said with a fake smile: “Let me order you a steak to make up for it.” “No need, no need. We’re both full.” Liam hastily and politely declined. But Caleb completely ignored him. He stubbornly called the waiter over and added a steak and four desserts to our order, managing everything for us without asking. Liam watched his actions, raised an eyebrow, and turned his head as if he wanted to say something to me. But before he could speak, he was interrupted by Caleb next to him. “You two don’t look very compatible,” Caleb said, staring at Liam with that fake smile. “How did you guys end up together?” “Mind telling me?” Three sentences, every single one laced with thorns. It also carried a heavy air of condescension. It was incredibly uncomfortable to hear. Even someone with a good temper like Liam couldn’t help but frown. I sighed, patted Liam’s arm to signal him to stay calm, turned around, and calmly said to Caleb, “Our business doesn’t seem to have anything to do with you.” “We don’t need the steak. We’re full, so we’re going to leave.” I stood up, taking Liam with me, gave Caleb’s girlfriend a slow smile, and said softly, “Enjoy your meal.” With that, I pulled Liam to leave, but Caleb’s face darkened, and he yelled coldly, “Did I say you could leave?” I ignored him, but halfway there, Liam’s arm was suddenly grabbed hard by Caleb, freezing him in place. “You running away the second there’s trouble? You run pretty fast for a guy. Are you even a man?” Liam’s brow furrowed tightly. He was clearly angered by Caleb’s words. But Liam could also see that I didn’t want to stay here any longer. He suppressed his anger, forcefully shook off Caleb’s hand, and strode to catch up with me. Neither of us paid Caleb any attention, which made his face grow darker and darker, looking like a thundercloud about to burst. To the point that, when Liam and I were almost out of the restaurant, Caleb suddenly slammed his hand hard on the table. After drawing the attention of everyone in the restaurant, he gritted his teeth and yelled at Liam: “Hey, Carter!” (Wait, the instructions said no Chinese surnames. I’ll use a placeholder). “Hey, Liam!” “You’re with Maya, right? Did she ever tell you that she was sexually assaulted?” Liam’s body went stiff, and my footsteps abruptly halted. I froze in place. In that instant, the gazes of everyone in the restaurant seemed to land on me. I closed my eyes tightly, hearing the sound of whispers behind me. My fingertips trembled, and I pinched my palms as hard as I could, trying to ignore the suffocating feeling spreading from my heart. “She didn’t dare tell you, did she?” Caleb let out a mocking smile and walked toward us step by step, until he stood right in front of me. “If she won’t tell you, how about I give you the details?” “After all, you guys are together now.” Caleb stood firm in front of me, his gaze fixed on Liam, full of provocation. “I just wonder, will you still like her after hearing this!” “Shut your filthy mouth!” Liam was tense all over. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes locked onto Caleb in a death stare, as if he would punch him in the face if Caleb said one more word. Caleb wasn’t afraid; he laughed instead, raising his voice again: “We’re both men here. Everyone knows how it is. What are you pretending for?” “Then tell me. I want to hear it.” A sudden sentence interrupted Caleb’s mockery and stopped Liam from throwing a punch. When Caleb heard the voice clearly, he violently turned his head to look at me. The moment he saw the calm expression on my face, a flash of panic crossed his eyes. He couldn’t maintain his expression, but he still asked me: “What did you just say?!” “I said, I’ve almost forgotten about it. Since you remember it so clearly, why don’t you say it out loud so I can hear it too?” I repeated it expressionlessly. As my words fell, the ridiculous expression on Caleb’s face instantly froze. At this moment, he seemed to finally realize that while he was using these words to sting Liam, I, the person it actually happened to, was standing right in front of them. “Maya!” Caleb couldn’t say anything else. After holding it in for a long time, he only managed to choke out my name. He panicked and reached out to grab me. I watched him in silence until Caleb’s hand stopped stiffly just inches from my skin. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.” Caleb, his face pale white, tried to explain. I didn’t want to hear explanations. I just asked: “Aren’t you going to say it?” “I won’t say it!” Caleb answered loudly without hesitation. His voice was sharp, as if he were swearing an oath. He hurriedly added, “How could I possibly say it? You know me!” “I could never hurt you! I didn’t mean it like that!” The more Caleb explained, the more panicked he became. He was frantically scratching his head and ears, so panicked he looked like he was about to cry. I watched him go crazy in silence. Before turning to leave, I gave him a long, deep look, parted my lips slightly, and left him with only one word: “Coward.” He dared to do it but didn’t dare to own up to it. If Caleb wasn’t a coward, what was he? I spoke calmly, turned, and walked away. As I stepped out of the restaurant doors, I heard a heavy, muffled thud of something being thrown to the floor inside. 06 After coming out of the restaurant, I stared blankly up at the sky. Only then did I realize that it had started drizzling at some point. The rain wasn’t heavy, just a fine mist hitting my face, bringing a bit of a chill. I hadn’t brought an umbrella. I sighed and prepared to run to the subway station in the rain. But just as I was about to dash out, my arm was suddenly grabbed. I looked back and met Liam’s face, who was trying hard to stay calm. “Where are you going?” “It’s dangerous walking in the rain right now. Don’t walk around alone. Where do you want to go? I’ll go with you.” “It’s not dangerous in this weather,” I replied silently. It was just a light drizzle. There wasn’t even any wind or lightning. But Liam refused to let go, still gripping my arm tightly. I frowned and was about to explain further, but I paused when I saw the panicked expression on Liam’s face and how his fingertips were trembling slightly as he held me. I suddenly, belatedly realized. Liam seemed to be worried that something would happen to me. After realizing this, the emotions I had barely managed to calm down suddenly began to surge wildly. My heart gave a heavy thud, bringing with it a hint of sourness that spread through my whole body. “I’m fine,” I tried to smile and explain to him. “I just want to run to the subway station and take the train home.” Liam frowned, his suspicious gaze falling on my face, looking completely unconvinced. “I’m really fine!” I gently pried his fingers off my arm, gave him a reassuring smile, and explained with a normal expression, “What he said is a fact. I have nothing to be angry about.” I couldn’t deny the fact that I had been sexually assaulted when I was a teenager. Just as I couldn’t deny that Caleb and I had truly had an unforgettable relationship. It just ended up as a chaotic mess, leaving behind nothing but a floor covered in feathers. “Think on the bright side,” I patted his shoulder and said with a smile. “At least I was only assaulted, not murdered. That’s a silver lining, isn’t it?” Liam was so shocked by my words that he was almost struck dumb. He probably never expected that I seemed to have no trauma from this tragic past, and could even calmly bring it up to comfort someone else. “When I was eighteen, I might have been so ashamed I’d want to die if he ripped off my scars in public like that.” “But I’m twenty-eight now.” I explained: “I know very well that what happened wasn’t my fault.” “The person who should really be so ashamed they want to die shouldn’t be me.” Actually, I was just a little confused. I paused for a moment. Caleb’s face inexplicably popped into my mind, and I clenched my fists tightly. I just didn’t understand why Caleb had turned out like this. Before, when I was on the verge of a mental breakdown, Caleb had gripped my hand tightly and told me firmly, over and over again: “Maya, it’s not your fault. We aren’t going to cry!” But in the blink of an eye, he had morphed into that mocking face, yelling loudly in front of everyone: “Did you know Maya was sexually assaulted?” I lowered my eyes, unconsciously pressing my hand against my aching heart, trying to make myself feel less miserable. Liam looked at me deeply for a long time, his expression complex. After a long while, I finally felt the hand holding mine slowly let go. “You’re right!” Liam’s voice was hoarse, but he spoke firmly. “It wasn’t your fault! The person who truly deserves to die is someone else!” I snapped out of my daze and blinked at him. Liam stared at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, then said to me with a hoarse voice, “I left something in the restaurant. I need to go back and get it. Wait here for a second, okay?” 07 I paused, not having had time to react before Liam had already taken off running back inside. A few minutes later, his hair and clothes were a bit messy, and he came out panting, holding an umbrella. He flashed me a huge smile and said, “Let’s go! I’ll take you home!” I thought it would have been fine for him to just walk me to the subway, no need to take me all the way back. Because I remembered his house was in the opposite direction of mine. Liam was unexpectedly insistent. When I said it wasn’t necessary, he just murmured his agreement. But in reality, he just stood right behind me, not moving an inch. I couldn’t talk him out of it, and I had no choice but to let him walk me all the way to my front door. Since he was already at my door, I felt it would be a bit rude not to invite him in for a glass of water. As soon as I asked him, Liam seemed to think of something. His face instantly turned red. He scratched his head and stuttered, “Uh, maybe next time. Coming in empty-handed now doesn’t seem right.” “Huh? But I live alone,” I silently explained, not understanding his train of thought. But my explanation made things worse. As soon as I said it, Liam’s face turned even redder. No matter how I invited him, he stubbornly stood at the door talking to me, not daring to come in, and his gaze didn’t even dare to dart inside. I really had no choice but to go inside, pour a glass of water, and let him drink it at the door. Liam didn’t stay long. After he left, I closed the door, preparing to take the glass back to the kitchen. But after I’d taken just two steps, there was a sudden knock on the door again. “Did you forget something?” I asked as I opened the door. The next second, I heard a familiar mocking voice from above my head. “Who forgot something? Your new lover?” “What, you’ve only known him for how long, and you’re already bringing him home?” Caleb gritted his teeth. His voice was flippant, carrying a thick undertone of humiliation. “Maya, how come I never noticed before? Are you that desperate for a man? You can’t stand it for a few days without one?” I looked up. The second I met Caleb’s eyes, I violently swung my arm and slapped him across the face with all my might! Caleb’s head whipped to the side from the force. He kept his head lowered, pushed his tongue against his numb cheek, and let out an inexplicable laugh.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “408350”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day we signed our marriage license, I scrolled past a viral video on my husband’s secret TikTok account. It was titled “Six Toasts to Myself,” and it had millions of likes. “Toast one: To myself, for stealing my mom’s gold ring at age five to propose to her.” “Toast two: To myself, for intentionally bombing the SATs so we could go to the same college.” “Toast three: To myself, for buying her dream house at age thirty.” “Toast four: To myself, for standing by her side through thick and thin for twenty-five years.” “Toast five: To myself, for never breaking a single promise.” In my heart, I chuckled at Liam’s childishness. But then, I watched him speak his sixth line. “Toast six: To myself—for sharing the twin swallows with my one true love. No regrets in this lifetime.” I froze. It felt like I had been plunged into an ice bath. I turned to look at my husband. The swallow tattoo on his collarbone was faintly visible under his shirt. And the other matching swallow? I had seen it on the shoulder of his junior lab assistant. 01 The video already had hundreds of thousands of comments. The top replies were women praising his loyalty. [Wow, this guy is amazing. I believe in true love again.] [He loved one woman for 24 years. My ex cheated on me after 4 months. I’m crying!] [So jealous of his wife! Where do I find a man like this??] Little did they know, the woman they were so envious of was sitting there, her fingertips trembling against her phone screen. I opened Mia Thorne’s Instagram page again. The swallow tattoo on her shoulder was clearly visible in her latest post. The caption was dripping with romantic subtext: [Sharing the twin swallows with my true love. Isn’t this what a lifetime of companionship looks like?] Tears dropped onto my screen. I finally broke down and cried. Liam Sterling had been smiling mysteriously at his phone. He turned his head, and seeing my red eyes, a flash of impatience crossed his face. “Are you reading that toxic internet relationship advice again?” “Haven’t I been good enough to you? I transferred Mia to the out-of-state lab just because you were jealous.” “She’s just a young girl in a new city, who knows how she’s doing…” My knuckles turned white as I gripped my phone. I had never doubted Liam’s loyalty until six months ago. My girls’ night out had run late, so I asked Liam to pick me up. I watched with my own eyes as Mia stepped out of his passenger seat, holding a bag of snacks. When I got in, the passenger side was a mess of crumbs. The car reeked of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. The heavy, gross smell made my throat itch. I casually pulled a cough drop out of my purse, but the moment I unwrapped the plastic, Liam’s face turned vicious. He yelled at me: “How many times do I have to tell you? No eating in the car!” “Why can’t you ever remember?” I suppressed my anger and replied, “The car smells terrible. My throat is scratchy.” “If you’re uncomfortable, roll down the window! If you take one bite of that, get out of my car!” In the rearview mirror, Mia watched me with a half-smile, her eyes full of undisguised triumph. Yet she spoke with a sickeningly sweet, anxious voice. “Liam, you’re being so strict with Chloe, it’s scaring me~” “I won’t eat either! Don’t be mad, Liam, please don’t yell at me! T_T” Liam’s face softened instantly. He handed her a bottle of water with a doting look. “It’s different with you. You’re still practically a kid, you need your snacks.” “Plus, you get carsick. Eating helps your stomach. Don’t choke, have some water.” Sitting in that car, I felt like the outsider. Perhaps noticing my discomfort after dropping Mia off, Liam patiently coaxed me. “Chloe, don’t overthink it.” “Our lab director asked me to give her a ride. She was feeling carsick, so I let her sit up front and eat something.” “She’s just a young girl, basically like a little sister to me. There is absolutely nothing going on between us! If it bothers you that much, I’ll send her to the Paris lab for her fellowship, and she won’t come back. Deal?” As he spoke, he watched my expression through the rearview mirror. Seeing my face soften, he breathed a sigh of relief. Liam had never been stingy about sweet-talking me. So, I let it go. Until a few days later, when I saw Mia’s Instagram post. The young girl was wearing an antique silver locket around her neck, smiling brilliantly. [Heading off to Paris in a few days. My mentor still treats me like a kid. He gave me this antique locket to keep me safe on my travels.] That locket was the last thing my mother left me before she died. It was my only keepsake of her. I sat there stunned for a long time before dialing Liam’s number. “Who did you give my mother’s silver locket to?” He answered cleanly, without hesitation: “To Mia.” “Don’t read into it. She’s leaving for her research in Paris in a few days. The locket has good protective meaning, so I gave it to her for safe travels.” “That was the last thing my mother left me! What right do you have to give it away without my permission?!” I screamed into the phone, my heart tearing open. Liam’s cold voice came through the receiver: “It’s just a beat-up old necklace. Why are you being so cheap? I’ll Venmo you the money for it!” “Mia is only going to Paris because you’re insanely jealous. Think of this as my apology to her on your behalf!” Through the phone, I could faintly hear Mia whining in her sickeningly sweet voice: “Liam, if Chloe really doesn’t want me to have it…” “It’s fine. Ignore her.” Before I could say another word, Liam hung up. I sat with my mouth open, frozen. I remembered my mother on her deathbed, holding mine and Liam’s hands, telling us to support each other and stay together forever. In the end, I swallowed the pain. Mia was leaving anyway. What kind of sparks could they possibly have from across the world? So I forced myself to forget the red flags and let myself sink into the blissful bubble of our impending marriage. I just never expected that bubble to be violently popped today. I thought about his viral video and the hotel room background that perfectly matched Mia’s latest post. I looked up at Liam, asking him word by word: “You didn’t come home last night. Where were you?” 02 A flash of panic crossed Liam’s eyes. Then, pretending to be outraged, he ripped off his towel, turned his back to me, and started pulling on his pajamas. “Where else would I be? Pulling an all-nighter at the lab.” “Call my coworkers if you don’t believe me.” “Stop being so paranoid all day long! We just signed our marriage license! I’m your husband now, what more do you want?” I let out a mocking laugh. “Why are you getting so defensive? I just asked a question.” Perhaps sensing his own guilt, Liam finished changing and lay down next to me, his hand roaming over my body. He said gently: “I’m sorry, babe. I’ve been so stressed lately, my mood is shot.” “We have seven days of honeymoon leave. Let’s go somewhere and relax, just the two of us. You pick the place, I’ll pay.” His touch, which used to ignite desire, now just made my stomach churn with nausea. “I need to use the restroom.” I locked his advances outside the door, leaned over the toilet, and threw up. When I stood back up, I fought through the heartache and pulled up the screenshot of his video comments. A user named “StarCatcher” had left a comment that Liam had liked. Her IP address was in Paris. The caption read: [One wild night of indulgence. My love is finally complete.] I clicked on her profile. There was only one video pinned to her page. It was a man’s hand, offering her a makeshift ring fashioned from a soda pop-tab, proposing to her. The man’s voice was gentle and unwavering. “Even though we can only be husband and wife for one night, I hope you know my love for you will never change.” The caption was a blatant flex. [With true love, even a soda-tab ring is enough. Better than wearing a massive diamond but sleeping in an empty bed.] This was his so-called “all-nighter at the lab.” I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. Suddenly, I felt incredibly foolish. If Liam didn’t love me, he could have just said it straight to my face. I would never have clung to him. But he chose to humiliate me in the most despicable way possible. He seemed to have forgotten that back in college, I was notoriously known as “The Viper.” Because I hold grudges, and I always get payback. No mercy. I had just never shown him that side of me. Well, then. It was time to refresh his memory. I washed my face, gathered my emotions, forced a smile, and pushed open the door. Looking at Liam, I said softly: “Let’s go to Paris for our honeymoon! I want to go on a shopping spree~” Liam froze for a second. I didn’t miss the spark of joy in his eyes. The next second, his voice pitched up. “Paris?” I tilted my head and smiled. “Yeah. Didn’t you say I could pick anywhere?” This time, Liam—who usually hated planning trips—was far more proactive than me. Terrified I would change my mind, he booked the flights and hotels overnight. He enthusiastically chatted with me about where we should take photos. Which cafes he wanted to check out. Even at two or three in the morning, his phone screen kept lighting up. He was messaging someone constantly. He couldn’t even hide his smile. I watched him coldly. He was probably planning everything he wanted to do with Mia. Since that was the case, I decided to give these two star-crossed lovers a chance to fulfill their dreams. After all, hell was about to descend upon them. 03 The morning of our flight. I suddenly “came down with food poisoning.” I ran to the bathroom seven or eight times, my face pale as a sheet. While I lay in bed resting, Liam slammed a mug of hot water onto the nightstand. Water splashed onto my arm, leaving a red burn mark. I gasped, clutching my arm in pain. Liam just looked impatient. “You always get sick right when we’re supposed to travel. I only get seven days off, and you’re just dragging me down.” “Stop faking it. The water wasn’t even that hot! Drink it and let’s go to the airport!” Suddenly, his phone dinged. He checked the screen and let out a goofy, lovesick smile. When he noticed me staring at him, he guiltily averted his gaze, then shoved the phone near my face, trying to mask his panic with anger. “Are you trying to save money by faking sick again, just like last time?” “Can you stop being so cheap all the time? Can you just live like a normal person for once?” “Being with you is suffocating! We can’t eat anywhere nice, we can’t do anything fun!” I sneered. “Have you ever seen someone faking sick with a face as ghostly pale as mine?” When Liam first started his research lab, it required massive funding but brought in zero profit. To support his career, I hadn’t bought new clothes in nearly seven years. In the winter, I washed our clothes by hand in freezing water just to save a few bucks on the electric bill. Back then, he used to cry over my red, swollen fingers, swearing he would give me the best life possible. Now, he found me embarrassing. My heart was completely dead. I didn’t even want to speak to him. I grabbed my purse to leave. “Where are you going?” “The hospital.” Liam grabbed my arm forcefully. “Why are you going to the hospital?! Just take some Pepto! We still have to make our flight!” “If I take you to the ER, we’ll miss the plane!” I gave him a freezing glare. “You can go by yourself! But I am going to the hospital.” “Or,” I paused, “do you want me to die on that plane so you can find a new wife?” Liam’s face changed. He spoke quickly. “What nonsense are you talking about?” “I just didn’t want the money to go to waste. The flights and hotels are non-refundable. It’s thousands of dollars.” He gave me a flattering, fake smile and said hesitantly: “Babe, how about this? I’ll go ahead and scout things out. I’ll find all the best food and fun spots early.” “You just focus on getting better.” “I promise, by the time you fly out to Paris, I’ll have everything perfectly arranged for you.” Looking at the man I had been with for 25 years, who had witnessed my lowest lows and my growth, I asked him with a final, desperate shred of hope: “Liam, I feel really sick. Can you please stay and take me to the hospital?” “Paris,” I closed my eyes and said slowly, “We just won’t go.” The silence in the room was suffocating. Liam was quiet for a long time before he finally spoke. “But this is our honeymoon. How can we not go?” “I’ll go to Paris and prepare a huge surprise for you, okay? My Uber is downstairs, I’m heading to the airport! Get better soon, Chloe, I’ll be waiting for you!” He grabbed his suitcase and practically fled the apartment. As if he was terrified I would call him back. I forced a bitter smile, stumbled to my feet, and ordered a cab. “To the airport.” 04 I was indeed faking sick. But it wasn’t to save money. It was to give Liam and Mia the perfect opportunity to meet up. I had booked a flight that left exactly ten minutes after his. Sitting on the plane, resting my eyes, I thought back to last night. While Liam was sleeping, I had gone through his phone. That TikTok burner account with the millions of views had thousands of DMs. But he only had a “streak” and a little fire emoji with “StarCatcher.” They had been messaging for 145 straight days. Their chat history was sickeningly flirtatious. It was their secret digital diary of infidelity. “I’m coming to Paris for my honeymoon, but I just want to see you one more time.” “Mia, tell me, do I really have to choose between my responsibilities and true love?” Mia’s reply was quick. “But that night we had together was perfect, wasn’t it?” “I miss you too, I love you, but you’re someone else’s husband now, Liam.” … The final message was from Mia. “Okay. Let’s see each other one last time.” Such a deeply moving, tragic love story. I absolutely had to make sure the entire internet witnessed their profound romance! The second my plane landed, I started a TikTok Live. The title: “The ‘6 Toasts’ Guy and His Mistress Exposed: Catching Them Live.” Then, I routed the feed from the micro-camera I had hidden in Liam’s collar button directly to the stream. Unsurprisingly, Liam and Mia couldn’t even control themselves. They were making out aggressively in the back of a Parisian taxi. “I missed you so much, Mia baby. Chloe got sick and couldn’t come. God gave us this opportunity.” “Liam, I love you. Let’s be husband and wife for one more night.” The passionate, explicit audio broadcasted clearly. Within minutes, the viewer count skyrocketed into the millions. [What the hell? That’s definitely the guy’s voice! Are they flexing their cheating live?!] [Bruh, this sounds so wrong. This is exactly how my cheating ex talked to his side piece.] [I don’t believe it. This has to be the guy and his wife doing some weird cosplay!] The live chat was a chaotic mess. I covered my mouth tightly, my fingernails digging into my palms. Following the GPS tracker I’d installed on Liam’s phone, I walked all the way to the door of the honeymoon suite that was supposed to be for me. Fighting back my adrenaline, I knocked. “Who is it? We don’t need room service, ah~” Mia’s breathy moan echoed from inside. “It’s Chloe.” The moment I said my name, the room went dead silent. After a long, agonizing wait, Liam finally opened the door, his face flushed red. “Babe? Weren’t you going to the hospital? How did you get here so fast?” He asked awkwardly. Behind him, Mia stood wrapped in a bath towel, giving me a smug, curved smile. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. I spilled coffee on my clothes when I picked Liam up from the airport, so I just came up to take a quick shower. We didn’t do anything, please don’t misunderstand! Liam really loves you.” “It’s fine. Since we’re all here, let’s shoot a video together.” I calmly cut her off. Right in front of them, I pulled up the “Six Toasts to Myself” challenge filter. Both of their faces drained of color. “N-No, let’s not. I have somewhere to be, I should go.” Mia tried to bolt, but I grabbed her arm in a death grip. “Don’t be in such a rush! We’re all family here, let’s just play along for fun~” “Unless you two did something guilty and are too scared to play?” Perhaps my calm demeanor was too terrifying, because Mia and Liam ultimately sat back down in the room. Turning the camera toward us, I poured a glass of water and made 6 toasts to myself. “Toast one: To myself, for staying loyal for 25 years, loving him, and marrying him.” “Toast two: To myself, for giving up my career for love, becoming a housewife right out of grad school!” “Toast three: To myself, for finding a soda-tab ring hidden in my own house.” As I spoke, I pulled out the pop-tab ring Liam had tried to hide. Liam shot up from his chair, completely ignoring the camera as he lunged to snatch the object from my hand. “Where did you find that?! Give it back!” I stood up and shoved the inside of the ring right up to the camera lens. Engraved on the metal were tiny, neat words: “Liam & Mia, Love Forever.” My sudden movement caught Liam off guard. By the time he snatched the ring back… He glanced at my phone screen and saw the little red “LIVE” icon. His face went chalk white. 05 Because my livestream had been running non-stop since I got off the plane, the viewer count was now breaking 3 million. It was the #1 trending live on the app, and the chat was moving at lightspeed. [MAJOR PLOT TWIST. The 6 Toasts guy is a massive cheater!] [Did anyone else see the swallow tattoo on the towel girl’s shoulder? Disgusting. He’s playing two women at once and acting like a romantic saint online?] [Eating popcorn! The guy is the director of our research lab! The mistress is his junior assistant. They always locked the lab doors together…] Within moments, the internet sleuths in the chat had doxxed Liam and Mia’s identities completely. Liam stared at the scrolling chat, his face flashing between green and pale white. Finally realizing what was happening, he snapped his head up and glared at me viciously. “Chloe, did you set me up?!” I glanced at the chaotic livestream and laughed out loud. “Set you up? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Isn’t this our honeymoon suite? Am I not allowed to come on my own honeymoon?” “But,” I cast a mocking look at Mia, whose eyes were now red with panic, “what do those words on the soda-tab ring mean?” “I had no idea you and Mia had a thing! Oh my god, if you had just told me your love was so deep, I never would have signed the marriage license with you~” I had found the pop-tab ring right before I left for the airport. It was hidden in Liam’s nightstand. I had never snooped through his drawers before, but today, some gut instinct told me to look. There it was, glaringly obvious. An engraving claiming her territory over my husband. At that moment, Liam still didn’t grasp the severity of the situation. He was still trying to interrogate me. “Are you done yet?! I told you, absolutely nothing is going on between me and Mia!” “This is all a massive misunderstanding!” Mia started crying on cue. “Chloe, can you please just let me go? You already bullied me into moving to Paris, why are you doing this…” I raised an eyebrow. “If it’s a misunderstanding, then clear it up.” “I’ve got nothing but time. Go ahead, explain.” Liam was momentarily speechless. He cursed under his breath, finally breaking his composure. He reached out to grab my phone and end the stream. But I guarded it closely. “Don’t be so hasty. I haven’t finished my toasts yet.” I looked directly into the camera and “drank” three more times. “Toast four: To myself, for discovering my husband’s affair on the exact day we got our marriage license, giving me the ultimate rollercoaster of a marriage.” “Toast five: To myself, for catching my husband and his mistress in a hotel room on the first day of our honeymoon.” “Toast six: To myself, for finding the courage to sever 25 years of history, file for divorce, and restart my life!” The chat exploded like a powder keg. [Holy shit, is this real? Is this a scripted drama account?] [Queen behavior! I support you!] [Is there really no misunderstanding? The 6 Toasts guy made me cry, his eyes looked so genuinely in love. You can’t fake that.] Seeing the waves of support in the chat, a warm feeling washed over my heart. Liam looked at me in absolute shock. “What did you just say?” My eyes were slightly red, but as I looked at Liam, I felt absolutely nothing. “I said, I want a divorce.” “I’m setting you free to chase your true love.” Liam’s voice trembled. “But we just signed the papers! Chloe, why are you trying to hurt me like this?” “Yeah, Chloe! This is all a misunderstanding! Sob Liam really loves you!” Watching them put on this pathetic performance, I laughed out of pure anger. “A misunderstanding?” “Did I forge the engraving on that ring? Was it a misunderstanding that you didn’t come home the night before we got our license?” Looking at the tattoos on their bodies, I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Or did I hold a gun to your heads and force you to get matching swallow tattoos?!” My rapid-fire questions left them completely speechless. Their eyes darted around guiltily. But after a moment, Liam suddenly forced himself to calm down. He glanced at the screen, then turned back to me, wearing his mask of deep affection. “Chloe, this really is a misunderstanding. I never thought your jealousy would drive you to do something like this.” “Since it’s come to this, I have no choice but to tell you the truth.” “Nothing happened between me and Mia. The only reason we’re meeting up… is because we were planning a surprise for you.” 06 Liam’s expression was so earnest when he said this, I almost believed him myself for a second. But three seconds later, I understood his play. Seeing the public opinion turning against him, Liam was terrified his career would be destroyed. He was lying through his teeth to manipulate the audience. He truly was a top-tier manipulator. With just one sentence, the tide in the live chat started to shift. [I knew it! The 6 Toasts guy definitely loves his wife. See, the surprise is coming!] [This woman is so insecure. A guy can’t even talk to his female coworker? She probably just wants his money.] [6 Toasts guy is a saint. If I had a wife this controlling, I would’ve snapped ages ago.] Watching the comments scroll by, I furrowed my brow. Mia exchanged a quick glance with Liam. Then, she suddenly dropped to her knees, looking up at me with wide, red, doe-like eyes. “Chloe, we really didn’t do anything.” “Liam said it was your honeymoon, and he asked me to help plan the itinerary and pick out gifts for you.” “Back home, you slandered me until I was exiled abroad. Now you’re livestreaming to millions, accusing me of being a homewrecker! How am I supposed to live with this?!” As soon as she finished speaking, Mia scrambled up and made a theatrical dash toward the wall, acting like she was going to bash her head in. Liam quickly “caught” her. She collapsed onto the floor, wailing pitifully. “I haven’t even had a boyfriend yet! How am I ever going to show my face in public again? Liam, what am I going to do?!” Liam pulled her gently into his arms. He glared at me, full of righteous indignation. “Are you done yet?!” “Slander me all you want, but Mia is just an innocent young woman! You’re ruining her reputation! How is she ever going to get married now?!” “Turn off the damn stream!” I stared at him with a complex expression. I mean… I might have been a stay-at-home wife, but I didn’t lose my brain cells. Did they really think I was that stupid? I narrowed my eyes, flipped my phone around, and played the footage from the micro-camera right into the livestream. “Turning the honeymoon suite into your personal hookup room—is that the surprise you prepared for me?” “Were you and Mia just going to huddle under the covers and have a pure, innocent chat?” The internet immediately remembered. At the very beginning of the stream. The footage of Liam and Mia making out passionately in the back of the taxi. “You tracked me?!” Seeing the video, Liam’s face twisted in horror. I smirked. “If I didn’t track you, how would I have gotten a front-row seat to this R-rated movie?” Liam’s eyes darkened ominously. His voice went dead cold. “Chloe, I am genuinely angry now.” “Why couldn’t we discuss this in private? Why did you have to start a livestream and humiliate us?” I almost wanted to clap for his sheer hypocrisy. “Wow, double standards much, bro?” “You’re allowed to post viral videos professing your deep love, but I’m not allowed to livestream catching you cheating?” Glancing at the viewer count, which was still skyrocketing, I smiled brightly. “Besides, the people love a good show.” Liam panted heavily, glaring at me. “Chloe, you…” But constrained by the millions of eyes watching him, he couldn’t get physical. He stared at me fixedly for a few seconds, then nodded heavily. “Since you want to push it to this point, then I’m not holding back either.” He pulled out his phone, scrolled furiously for a moment, and shoved his screen into the camera’s view. “Take a good look, everyone! This video was taken three months ago. You went into a hotel room with a man, and you didn’t come out until the next morning!” “If we’re keeping score, you were the one who cheated first!” “Because I loved you, and for the sake of our marriage, I endured it in silence! But you just got worse and worse! Chloe, you have disappointed me profoundly!” In the video, I was indeed seen entering a hotel room with a “man,” arms wrapped around each other, looking undeniably intimate. The chat saw the video and immediately turned their guns on me. [Holy shit, so the wife cheated first?! The guy took a green hat for love? That’s true dedication!] [Just divorce her man, this guy is too tragic.] [This woman is disgusting, playing the victim and gaslighting him. Poor 6 Toasts guy.] Those words felt like daggers stabbing into my heart. My eyes instantly stung with tears. On the other side of the room, Liam looked triumphant. “You cheated first. I was heartbroken and devastated. It was only through Mia’s comfort that I slowly managed to heal.” “Chloe, you’re too greedy.” “From the moment I met you at age 5, I gave you everything you wanted. A house, a marriage, companionship. Why did you have to betray me?” “I don’t have to divorce you, but you need to pay Mia for emotional damages.” I looked at the man in front of me with utter disappointment. His eyes were entirely consumed by the desperate desire to clear his own name. I finally lost the last shred of hope I had for his humanity. At this point, I felt entirely liberated. I walked over to the door, opened it, and spoke slowly. “Come on in.” The “man” from the video, wearing a sharp, tailored suit, walked in and pulled me into a fierce hug. She glared venomously at Liam. “You absolute piece of trash!” “Chloe has had the worst luck in the world being tied to you. You make me sick.” In an instant… The entire livestream went dead silent. Because her voice was distinctly feminine, lively, and cute. Obviously, a woman.

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I had a reputation for talking so much I could cure three cases of autism just by chatting. As a result, the aloof and reclusive Cole Hayes was essentially gifted to me as an arranged, live-in boyfriend. I used to hit him with terrible pickup lines: “Did you just fart? Because you blew me away. But not as much as I think about you.” He would snap his head up: “I did not.” Mr. and Mrs. Hayes’ eyes lit up with hope. From then on, I kept him company for four years. Until he met another girl. He talked with her all night about the Riemann Hypothesis. In the early hours of the morning, he turned to me and said for the very first time: “You’re very loud. “Can you shut up?” That night, he received a text message: [Take one of these pills, and Maya Evans will stay five hundred feet away from you.] Cole swallowed the entire bottle of pills. But what he didn’t know was that the bottle only contained calcium vitamins I had swapped in. 01 I was born with the gift of gab. I talked so much that cats and dogs found me annoying. In an attempt to mold me into a “proper young lady,” my mom forbade everyone in our house from talking to me. As a result, my masochistic tendencies skyrocketed. Silenced at home, I would go outside and strike up conversations with stray dogs. My crowning achievement was using just my mouth to “cure” three kids with autism. Unsurprisingly, my mom got called into the principal’s office. The teacher spoke earnestly: “Since she loves to talk so much, keep her home until she’s talked enough, then send her back. She’s disrupting the other students.” My mom immediately abandoned me and the whole mess: “Are you doing this on purpose to make me look bad? “I can’t control you. Do whatever you want, but once you step out of this door, don’t expect me to come to school and clean up your messes.” Also called to the office that day was the top student in our class—Cole Hayes. “Your son, Cole, has excellent grades. He’s clearly Ivy League material. “It’s just his personality… he’s too isolated. When teachers or classmates ask him something, he ignores them completely.” Mrs. Hayes sighed helplessly and explained to the female teacher: “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Davis. Our son was born with a touch of autism.” Suddenly, the math teacher at the next desk had a flash of inspiration: “Mrs. Evans, Maya Evans can strike up a conversation with a dog on campus! Whenever we sit her next to an autistic kid, she manages to talk them into a milder point on the spectrum. “How about we sit her next to Cole Hayes!” Mrs. Hayes’ eyes lit up. 02 My mom didn’t want to deal with a problem child. But Mrs. Hayes did. Not only did she beg the teacher to let me sit next to Cole, but she also had me stay at the Hayes’ house to accompany Cole to and from school. But Cole wasn’t autistic. He just had Asperger’s syndrome, often called the “genius disease,” and possessed extraordinary talent in math and computer science. He just felt that his peers were too immature and therefore found it beneath him to communicate with us. Under Mrs. Hayes’ expectant gaze, I felt the task was incredibly daunting. I babbled at Cole: “Bro, who do you think is a better cook, Gordon Ramsay or Bobby Flay?” “Which chicken makes the best fried chicken?” Cole turned a deaf ear, lowering his eyes to quietly solve math problems. I leaned in close, staring blankly, trying to count exactly how many lower eyelashes he had. I was counting so intently that my warm breath puffed entirely onto his eye. Cole’s eyelashes fluttered, and then he shot me a cold glare. His mouth was sealed tighter than a vault. I didn’t want to disappoint Mrs. Hayes, so I frantically fired off terrible pickup lines: “Did you just fart? Because you blew me away. But not as much as I think about you.” Three seconds later, he snapped his head up: “I did not.” Huh, I think I figured out the access code to get Cole to speak. 03 I lived at the Hayes’ house for four years. In Cole’s world, besides vibrant and complex mathematics, there was now a shadow who scored a solid 30% in math. While I was furiously scribbling down his homework, he would coldly interject: “That’s an integral sign, not a giant parenthesis. Also, the density of water is not equal to 5.” I would immediately bow and scrape: “You’re absolutely right, bro. This problem is too advanced for me. I won’t copy it.” Occasionally, he would chime in on my random ramblings: “Yeah, Professor Snape hated Harry Potter because James Potter bullied him in school.” “Hamilton was Jefferson’s biggest rival. They disagreed on almost everything. Left leg.” I gnawed on my popsicle and obediently propped my left leg on Cole’s lap. Watching him tie my shoelaces. His brow was furrowed deep, as if contemplating the mysteries of the universe. Only I knew that his OCD gave him an inexplicable urge to perfectly control the bows on my shoes. After high school graduation, he started preparing for his college applications. He supervised me every day as I memorized vocabulary for the SATs. At that time, I felt my life revolved entirely around the 26 letters of the alphabet. And it also revolved entirely around Cole. It couldn’t be helped; Cole couldn’t do without me. 04 Until Cole went to Boston to attend a mathematics salon. He met a girl, Chloe Zhou. White dress, low ponytail; you could tell at a glance she was smarter than me. They sat together, chatting all evening about the Riemann Hypothesis. I just felt a bit stuffed from the lobster roll I had for dinner. Cole was exceptionally talkative that day, but I couldn’t understand a single word of what they were discussing. I couldn’t even get a word in edgewise. In the past, during such awkward moments, Cole would always lower his intellectual level to say a few words to me. So I wouldn’t sit there looking like an idiot. But today he seemed to be enjoying the conversation too much and forgot about me. Luckily, a chatterbox can fit in anywhere. I met another guy whose math score was probably also hovering around 30%. Julian lowered his voice: “Does it feel like listening to a foreign language?” I nodded: “Tell me about it! Especially those two over there,” I jutted my chin toward Cole’s direction, “I feel like they’re going to ascend to a higher plane of existence any second.” Julian burst out laughing: “I get it. I was dragged here by my dad for ‘exposure’. What about you?” I blanked for a second: “I’m here accompanying my tutoring client. My job is to teach him how to talk to people more.” Julian suddenly looked toward Cole and said, “Then I’d say you’ve over-delivered on your assignment?” His good-natured teasing felt like a tiny thorn, pricking me ever so slightly. I instinctively looked over at Cole again. He had his head turned slightly, focused intently on whatever Chloe was saying, a very faint smile even playing on his lips. That was an expression I had spent four years, countless terrible pickup lines, and meaningless chatter to earn on rare occasions. And in this moment, Chloe had easily achieved it with a bunch of symbols I couldn’t understand. Somewhere in my chest, it felt like that lobster roll was making me even more uncomfortably full. “Yeah, over-delivered. Looks like I can retire early.” I retracted my gaze. “What about you? Has the ‘exposure’ yielded any results?” 05 “I discovered the cake here is pretty good,” Julian shrugged, pointing to the half-empty fruit wine I had been drinking. “The wine is good too.” We steered clear of the unfathomable math discussions and started chatting about everything under the sun. “I think the sweet and sour ribs at Dining Hall Two are the best!” “I vote for Dining Hall One!” “Is the male lead in that newly popular anime a jerk or what?” “I think so. He goes off to conquer the world with the second female lead and leaves the main girl at home. Pfft.” “Our school just introduced a bizarre new rule—boys and girls aren’t allowed to have physical contact for more than ten seconds.” “So, is the dean going to patrol with a stopwatch? Hahaha.” … Our laughter wasn’t loud, but in a salon so quiet you could hear a pin drop—save for the math jargon—it seemed a bit out of place. Until I felt a gaze land on me. I instinctively turned my head. At some point, Cole had stopped his discussion with Chloe. His brow was slightly furrowed. Those aloof eyes, usually immersed in their own world, were looking at me. More precisely, they were looking at me laughing hysterically, and at Julian beside me, who was laughing just as unreservedly. The smile on my face froze a bit, and that uncomfortable fullness in my chest sharply morphed into a stinging sourness. “What’s wrong?” Julian noticed something was off. “Nothing.” I shook my head. 06 After the salon ended, Mrs. Hayes happened to swing by to pick us up. I didn’t expect the fruit wine to have such a kick. I was feeling incredibly dizzy. “Bro, why are there two of you? When did you learn to clone yourself?” I squinted, trying hard to figure out which one was real. Cole, caught between laughing and crying, pinched my cheek to stop me from leaning in closer: “Maya Evans, you’re drunk.” I thought, Cole really is cured. I don’t even have to use pickup lines, and he can say this many words. But I had memorized quite a few lines today; I had to use them. “Bro, I might not be able to fawn over you for a while. Do you know why?” He asked, “Why?” I giggled: “I’ve been running a fever lately, and I’m afraid I’ll burn you if I get too close.” “Bro, if you cheat once, I’ll let you off the hook. If you cheat twice, I’ll let you off the hook. If you cheat three times, I’ll let you off the hook.” “But bro, remember this: I’m a forgiving goddess, not your wife.” After I finished, I cracked myself up, bending over with laughter. Cole was acting very out of character today. He nudged me and asked: “What else?” I instinctively replied: “I say ten sentences and you only reply with one…” Before I could finish, my arm was grabbed, and I was hauled up from the sofa like a carrot being pulled from the dirt. I hadn’t fully processed it as I slowly spat out the second half of the sentence: “…Then fine, from now on, for every ten times you thrust, I’ll only moan once.” The other Cole—the one with the deadpan face—was as cold as ice. He gripped me with one hand and covered my mouth with the other: “Shut up.” “We’re going home.” Mrs. Hayes was standing behind him, instinctively reaching out to take me from him, but Cole dodged her. It turned out I had mistaken someone else for him. I clamped my mouth shut tight. Chloe looked surprised: “Oh, you came with someone.” Mrs. Hayes smiled: “Yes, Cole and Maya are always inseparable. He’s basically her arranged husband.” Cole’s face turned instantly grim. He looked at Chloe and said seriously: “No, I’m not.” “I have nothing to do with her.” “I hate stupidity.” 07 I was remarkably well-behaved even when drunk; no screaming or yelling, just extremely chatty. With my face wedged in the gap of the car seats, I could even chat with Mrs. Hayes. Mrs. Hayes said: “You seemed to be having a great time chatting with that boy today.” I nodded: “Auntie Hayes, you don’t even know. He goes to the same school as Cole! We hit it off so well.” Mrs. Hayes smiled: “He seems good at making you laugh?” I instinctively replied: “My sense of humor is just broken, I laugh at everything. Not everyone can be like Cole, walking around with a scowl every day like someone owes him money.” “Auntie Hayes, you don’t even know. He told me the spicy stir-fry at the East Dining Hall is the best. It’s a shame I’ve graduated and never got to try it.” “He said the city youth chess tournament is happening at the rec center the day after tomorrow and asked if I wanted to go watch. I told him the only game I know how to play is Connect Four…” Cole suddenly whipped his head around, snapping, his voice cold and distant: “You’re very loud.” “Can you shut up?” A suffocating silence fell over the car. Only the sound of the traffic outside, flowing like a silent river, separated us. Mrs. Hayes was the first to speak: “Cole, what nonsense are you talking about?” “Maya, don’t take it to heart. You know him, his EQ is terrible. He doesn’t know how to talk.” I nodded, but didn’t know what to say. I felt inexplicably terrible. I figured it must have been because I was drunk. The next day, Cole received a text message on his phone: [Take one of these pills, and Maya Evans will stay five hundred feet away from you.] Without a moment’s hesitation, Cole swallowed the entire bottle of pills.

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The day I left the Sterling estate, Liam leaned against the doorframe. He watched me pack my luggage with a half-smile. “What’s this?” “Did you finally realize the kid has no intention of forcing me to marry you?” “So you think he’s useless now, and you aren’t planning to take him with you?” Before I could even open my mouth, Leo, who had been eavesdropping by the door for a while, walked in. He carefully dumped the money from his piggy bank into my hands. “Mom, you need to take good care of yourself.” “Also, please promise me you will never, ever come back.” “Chloe said she’ll only be my mom if you leave for good.” 1 After six-year-old Leo finished speaking. His dark, shiny eyes blinked at me, overflowing with anticipation. Liam lowered his voice, carrying a hidden warning. “Leo.” “Is that how they teach you to speak to your mother at school?” Leo lowered his head and pouted. “But last time Chloe asked Dad if he still liked Mom, he said he didn’t.” “And I don’t really like her either…” “If Mom wants to leave, just let her leave…” I had long stopped feeling sad over his words. A week ago, it was his sixth birthday. He threw a tantrum, insisting on celebrating with Liam and Chloe. I suddenly felt as if I had nothing left to lose. I didn’t have the slightest urge to stop him. Even when I walked past that restaurant that evening. And heard him introducing Chloe to the violinist as his mother, my heart remained completely still. 2 Because I was packing, I was crouching down. My line of sight was exactly level with little Leo. I accepted his money and gave a slight nod. “Okay, I promise you.” I stopped referring to myself as his mom and said quietly: “I will never come back to this house.” “And I won’t be your mom anymore. Leo, you’re free.” He didn’t seem to expect me to agree so easily. He stared at me for two seconds. Then he smiled and cheered, “Yay!” “Chloe is going to be my mom from now on!!” He ran out, shouting that he was going to call Chloe to tell her the good news. I packed my last piece of clothing. I zipped up my suitcase and stood up. Liam had been silent this whole time. But as I brushed past him, he grabbed my arm. His eyes were half-closed, hiding his emotions. “Tara, not liking you doesn’t mean I hate you.” “Over the years, I’ve gotten used to you.” “Why are you throwing this tantrum and insisting on leaving?” By the end, his voice was tinged with a faint irritation. I wanted to say something, but it felt redundant and overly dramatic. So I just pulled my arm free and left him with one sentence: “Take good care of Leo.” I dragged my suitcase out of the Sterling estate. Leaving the upscale neighborhood required a long walk. The weather wasn’t great. The cold wind whipped dead leaves against my body. It was the kind of day that made it easy to look miserable. But I kept walking. Not once did I look back. 3 I had rented an apartment in advance and found a job. Using my degree, I applied to be an art teacher at a children’s extracurricular center. On my first day of work. I walked into the office and saw several female teachers crouching around a little girl. “Mia, sweetie, does your uncle like desserts?” “Also, also! What kind of girls does he like?” “Right, Mia honey, is he picking you up tonight?” The girl remained expressionless. “Teachers, you called me over. If there’s a problem with my drawing style, shouldn’t you be talking about that?” The teachers exchanged awkward glances. “Since there are no problems, I’ll go back to the classroom.” The girl turned around and saw me. She gave a flat greeting, “Hello, teacher.” Then she walked away without looking back. 4 The other teachers were very friendly to me, the newcomer. After explaining the workflow, they started gossiping about the girl again. “You probably don’t know, but that kid’s uncle is Harrison Cole.” “He and Liam Sterling are known as the city’s most eligible billionaire bachelors.” “Oh, not anymore. I heard Liam Sterling is already back together with his first love, Chloe Davis.” “Now Harrison Cole is the only one left.” Hearing Liam’s name again, I felt as calm as if I didn’t know him. But Harrison Cole… I sighed silently. He was Liam’s arch-rival. In the past, he couldn’t stand the sight of me. Every time we crossed paths, I inevitably endured his sarcasm. “You’re pathetic. Photos of Liam and Chloe kissing are trending online, and you don’t even dare to make a peep.” “What do you actually get by following Liam around? A title, or status?” “Tara, why the hell don’t you look at other men?” I decided I should stay far away from the girl named Mia. If Harrison found out I was here, he might use his connections to get me fired. 5 Liam called me while I was squeezing onto the subway after work. “Hello?” The noisy background on my end made him pause. After a few seconds, he asked, “Where are you?” “On the subway.” He let out a barely audible chuckle. “Squeezing onto the subway?” “Tara, you brought this on yourself.” I held onto the handrail and simply asked, “Do you need something?” The sound of the man’s footsteps was steady and measured, even through the static of the phone. Just like the man himself. I could even picture him walking from his desk to the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Leo has a fever.” He said, “Tell me your address. I’ll pick you up.” “No need.” I lowered my eyes. “Take good care of him at home.” “He doesn’t need me.” Liam’s voice darkened. “Are you really going to ignore him?” “Tara.” He sounded as if he found the whole thing absurd. “Just because he said he liked Chloe more?” Liam seemed to have never understood my feelings for Leo. Even though I had explained it countless times. He still didn’t believe I took emergency contraceptives after that accidental night years ago. Because I had loved him for years. He always assumed I purposely got pregnant with Leo to force him into marriage. In his eyes, my bond with Leo wasn’t that deep. He thought of him as my tool, or a bargaining chip. So he didn’t know that out of fear that Leo would grow to like Chloe more and more… I had endured countless days and nights of breakdowns and anxiety. The subway arrived at a transfer station. The car instantly emptied out. “It’s not about that, Liam.” I found a seat, giving my aching legs temporary relief. I said softly: “It’s because he really does like Chloe more.” “And I don’t want to force myself to try so hard to please him anymore.” Liam wanted to say something else. The next second, Leo’s voice came through the receiver, proving my point. “Dad! My fever is gone!” “Can I go play with Chloe tomorrow?!” Liam’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Tara, listen to me…” I hung up. I got off at the next stop. And pushed that phone call out of my mind. 6 When Leo heard his mother’s name, he paused. He stopped insisting on Chloe for a moment. He tugged at Liam’s pant leg and asked: “Dad, did Mom call?” Liam gave a slight nod. “Oh, did you tell her I was sick so she would come back to see me?” Liam met those cute, round eyes. Eventually, he murmured a “yes.” Leo had fully expected Tara to worry about him and rush home. “Then I’ll go put on a mask so I don’t get Mom sick.” “I’ll go play with Chloe later.” They hadn’t seen each other in a week. He didn’t seem quite as resistant to seeing his mom anymore. Liam pressed his lips tightly together. “Mom is working overtime.” “I didn’t ask her to come back.” Leo still had a cooling patch on his forehead. He blinked at those words. “Then, then I guess I can just go find Chloe first…” He didn’t look disappointed. After all, his mom was definitely going to come back to see him. Ever since he was little, his mom was always the most anxious whenever he got sick. He was just a little surprised. Because in the past, even if his mom was out of state, she would fly back overnight if she heard he was sick. 7 After a week of work, I was basically used to the routine. Even though Harrison hadn’t shown up once. Just in case, whenever parents came to pick up their kids at the front door, I preferred to hide in the office and grade drawings. Only once, when Mia missed a class. I followed a colleague outside to see the students off. Normally, I tried to treat all the students equally. But she still noticed a difference. 8 That day, Mia was visibly down. During the break in the hallway, she rested her chin on her hands, staring out the window. A few boys were chasing each other and accidentally knocked her over. They ran off without apologizing. I immediately went over and crouched in front of her. “Are you okay, Mia?” “Are you hurt? Let me see.” The girl covered her knee, refusing to let me look, and turned her head away. “I don’t want to bother you.” “I’ll go ask another teacher for a band-aid.” I paused, then said gently, “Ms. Carter has some too.” “I don’t want yours.” The back of her round head radiated stubbornness. “I know you don’t like me. You don’t have to pretend to be nice.” I was taken aback. “I don’t dislike you at all.” “You’re well-behaved, polite, and very talented at drawing.” “How could I not like you?” Mia shot me a quick glance. Then turned her head back and hummed quietly. “The other day, when Ms. Lee asked you to see me off, you heard it was me and refused.” “And a few days ago, at lunch, I didn’t want to eat with those other teachers, so I took my bowl and sat next to you. But you finished your food in one bite and ran away.” Saying this seemed to remind her of that scene. Her cheeks puffed out in anger as she turned to accuse me: “No one has ever hated me this much!” “If you don’t like me, I don’t want to like you either.” I felt incredibly awkward… That day in the cafeteria, I thought I had been very subtle. Mia had sat down right across from me with her tray. She didn’t look at me, just mumbled: “They’re too loud, they keep asking about my uncle.” I moved my tray to make room for her. But less than half a minute later, her smartwatch rang. It was Harrison calling. My guilty conscience flared up, I shoveled the rest of my food down, and bolted. I couldn’t explain this to her, so I just looked at her earnestly. And said word by word: “Then I was wrong. From now on, I’ll eat with you every time, and, and I’ll walk you out after class…” “But I really, truly do not dislike you, Mia.” The girl turned half her face toward me. Her chubby profile looked a bit like a cartoon character. “Really?” Princess Mia asked with a touch of arrogance. “Really,” I promised. She reached out both arms toward me, keeping a straight face. “Then hug me…” “My knee hurts.” The scrape on her knee was exposed. I picked her up and carried her to the office to disinfect it and apply medicine. When we returned to the classroom, I made the boy who knocked her down apologize. Mia blinked at me, her lips pressing into a tiny smile. It was a signal that she was willing to make peace. 9 During the lunch break, I flipped through Mia’s file again. My eyes suddenly locked onto her date of birth. Today… was her birthday. Her gloominess today probably had a lot to do with this. I remembered the little bunny pattern on her pencil case and the bunny keychain on her backpack. Before class ended, I rushed to crochet a mini lop-eared bunny plushie. It even wore a little dress similar to what Mia was wearing today. She finished her drawing ten minutes earlier than the other students. I called her over and gave her the plushie. “Mia, happy birthday.” She stared blankly for two seconds. “Is this bunny me?” I smiled and nodded. “Just as cute as you.” “Thank you, Ms. Carter. I love it.” The little girl accepted it primly, though she tried not to show too much emotion on her face. “You’re welcome. Go back to your seat.” She took two steps, then turned back around. “Crouch down.” She waved me over. I did as she asked. “What’s wrong? Did you want to tell me something?” The next second, the girl’s soft, warm lips pressed against my cheek. “This is the first gift I got today.” “And it’s my favorite.” She clung to my side, her eyes shining brightly. “Ms. Carter, do you think my uncle is handsome?” “I can give you his phone number as a thank you for the bunny!” The warmth rising in my heart instantly froze. “…No, no thank you.” 10 After finding out Harrison wasn’t picking her up tonight. I kept my promise to walk Mia out after class. But when we reached the front doors and I saw the man leaning against the Maybach, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. “Uncle Harrison, why are you picking me up today?” The man’s gaze slowly shifted from my face. He glanced down at Mia. “To celebrate your birthday, kiddo.” “Yay!” The girl hopped up and down. I braced myself and spoke up. “Hello, Mr. Cole. I…” “What a surprise.” He cut me off, smiling faintly. “Liam is really harsh on his women, making you come out here to work.” To prevent him from mentioning me to Liam next time they met and causing a misunderstanding. I proactively explained: “I’ve already left the Sterling family.” “My job here has nothing to do with him.” Harrison’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Because of Chloe?” “Did they bully you?” I didn’t want to talk about this with Harrison, so I pretended I didn’t hear him. “Mr. Cole, if you don’t have any questions about Mia’s classes, I’ll head back to the office.” Mia innocently waved her little hand. “Goodbye, teacher.” I waved back. “Goodbye.” I turned and walked away, but I could feel an intense, unignorable gaze burning into my back the entire time.

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It was my twentieth birthday. My friends and I were celebrating at a busy interactive restaurant—think melting pot, loud music, and staff that made a big deal out of birthdays. I had brought a small, artisanal four-inch cake to share after dinner. Before we’d even ordered, a little girl started staring. She wanted a piece, bad. When I refused, she threw a full-blown tantrum right on the floor. But I don’t negotiate with terrorists, no matter how small. I just smiled and said, “Aww, you poor thing. Your parents can’t afford to buy you your own cake?” My roommate, Piper, instantly jumped on my case for not having a heart. In a dramatic display of virtue-signaling, she gave the girl her own slice of my cake. That very night, I received a frantic text from our RA. The girl’s mother had shown up at campus security with a doctor’s report. It said: Food Poisoning. 1 To celebrate my twentieth birthday, I treated my roommates to dinner at a lively interactive fondue place downtown. Since we planned on getting the dessert fondue, I only bought a small, gourmet four-inch cake just for the tradition of blowing out the candles. We had barely sat down when I noticed a little girl at the next table staring intently at the cake box. “Happy Birthday, Miss!” she said, walking over. “When are you guys going to eat that?” Before I could answer, she reached out, trying to open the intricate box. She was too short and almost pushed it off the table. I caught her hand just in time. “Sweetie, where are your parents?” She pointed to the table behind us. There was a woman sitting there alone. Looking closer, that must have been her mom. Hearing the commotion, the woman looked up, glanced at us indifferently, and immediately went back to scrolling through her phone. It was obvious she had zero intention of coming to get her child. The girl continued, “I want some cake. Can I have a piece, please?” She looked about four or five years old. That is the prime age for eating something random and getting sick. If something happened, I’d be held liable. I wasn’t willing to gamble on that. Besides, I didn’t know this kid. So, I ignored her question. Since she didn’t get an answer, she just stood right next to our table, staring at the four of us. It made the entire atmosphere incredibly awkward. Finally, a server walked over. “Hey guys, are we saving the cake for later, or do you want me to bring out plates now?” “Could you keep it in the back for us? We’ll have it after dinner.” Children have zero ability to hide their emotions. As soon as she heard “after dinner,” her face completely dropped. “But can I just have one little bite now? My mommy is almost done eating.” This was the first time I’d ever met someone demanding a piece of someone else’s birthday cake before dinner. But I was having a good day, and I didn’t want to argue. I forced a polite, friendly smile. “I’m sorry, sweetie, we can’t do that.” 2 She made a small, annoyed sound. It was quiet, but I definitely heard it. She tried to keep up her polite act. “Okay, I’ll just come back later, then.” The entire time, her mother never once tried to pull her back to their table. If I were a kidnapper, she’d be in deep trouble. Once the girl left, Piper turned to me. “Maya, that was kind of mean. Why were you so cold to a little kid?” “Kids that age just love sweets. We should definitely give her a piece later.” My relationship with Piper was purely professional roommates. We weren’t friends, but we didn’t hate each other. I only invited her because we lived in the same quad, and it would have been awkward to leave one person out. But who was she to call me mean? Especially on my birthday. I was visibly annoyed, but I tried to explain patiently. “I don’t know that kid. Walking up to our table and demanding cake is incredibly rude. Her mom is sitting right there ignoring her. And if she gets sick eating my cake, do you guarantee her mom won’t sue me?” “Also, it’s my birthday. Could you maybe not criticize me today?” Piper was defensive. “Maya, I totally disagree. You shouldn’t assume everyone is a bad person. She’s just a kid who wants a treat.” “I’m just a blunt person, don’t take it personally. I don’t have any malicious intent.” I rolled my eyes. Calling rudeness “bluntness” is just an excuse to be an asshole. Piper always did this passive-aggressive, high-ground act. My other two roommates, sensing the tension, quickly jumped in. “Alright guys, let’s keep it fun. Happy birthday, Maya! Let’s eat, the food is here.” I was in such a good mood before. My dad had sent me a $300 Venmo this morning, and now this was ruining it. 3 The little girl, whose name I found out later was Lily, was incredibly sharp. She knew Piper was on her side. While we ate, Lily stood right next to Piper. “You’re so pretty,” Lily told her. Piper beamed, blushing slightly. “Aww, thank you, Lily. You are too sweet.” “I think you’re the prettiest girl at this table.” Piper was practically floating. She gave Lily a thumbs-up. “Great eye for style.” I made eye contact with my other two roommates, Chloe and Harper. We all shared a look of pure exasperation. If I had known this was going to happen, I never would have invited her. It was my birthday, and she was having a whole talent show with this kid. Lily looked at us with big, innocent eyes. “Is it your birthday today?” “No,” Piper said, pointing at me. “It’s hers.” Lily pouted, sticking out her lip. “Oh.” I noticed her mom asking for the check. I let out a massive sigh of relief. Finally, they were leaving. But Lily made zero move to go. I couldn’t help asking, “Aren’t you going with your mommy?” “Mommy is getting her nails done at the spa next door. I’m not in a rush. I’ll just play with you guys for a bit.” Unbelievable. She was determined to get that cake. The whole time we were eating, she kept pestering us. “You guys eat so slow. Can you please eat faster?” “When is it going to be cake time?” I looked at her. “Lily, you should always chew your food thoroughly. Eating too fast isn’t good for your tummy.” “But how much longer?!” “I have no idea. Why don’t you go check on your mom and see if she’s done, then go home with her?” With bratty kids, sometimes you just have to give them a taste of their own annoying medicine. Of course, Piper had to enable her. “Maya, stop it. She’s just a child. Can’t you have a better attitude?” “Really? I’m just being blunt, no malicious intent here. Honestly, people might think you’re her mother with how protective you’re being.” “I… you…” Chloe and Harper both hid their faces in their hands, trying not to laugh at Piper getting roasted. 4 We continued eating slowly for another half hour. Once we were done, I asked the server to bring the cake back out. The girl’s mother had finished her spa treatment and walked over to our table. For a split second, I thought she was going to take her kid and leave. A split second later, I knew I was wrong. Lily told her mom, “I want cake.” The mom smiled at her daughter. “Okay, then make sure you sing ‘Happy Birthday’ super loud, and the pretty ladies might share.” So, my hours of “no” meant absolutely nothing. Lily started singing “Happy Birthday,” but she never once looked at me. Her eyes were fixed on the cake. As soon as I started cutting, she pushed to the very front. She started making demands. “I want the first piece. Make sure you get that strawberry on it, and I want the chocolate bear decoration too.” I finished cutting the first piece and set it right in front of myself. “I’m sorry, sweetie. It’s my birthday. Doesn’t the birthday girl get the first piece?” “But I’m just a kid! Big sisters are supposed to let kids have things first!” Ah, a lecture on manners from a preschooler. “I’m a kid too,” I said. “Just a twenty-year-old one.” Lily glared at me and huffed. Seeing me slice the rest of the cake without making any move to give her a piece, she realized I wasn’t joking. As I handed the final slice to Piper, Lily finally snapped. She threw herself on the floor and started screaming. “She lied to me! I said ‘Happy Birthday’ and I sang the loudest, and she won’t give me any!” “Mean sister! Mean! Mean! Mean!” Her mother just stood there, watching her daughter have a tantrum without doing a single thing. Piper looked at me with that judgmental look again. “Why are you fighting with a child?” “Lily, come here. You can have my piece.” I spoke up. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You are giving her your piece. If she gets sick, do not blame me.” “It’s just one piece of cake. What could happen? I’ll take responsibility.” “Great. I’m recording this conversation.” Piper rolled her eyes. “Maya, you are so petty. I can’t believe you’re recording over something so small.” She handed her slice to Lily. “Here you go, Lily. Have mine.” Unbelievably, Lily wasn’t satisfied. “I don’t want that one! I want the first one! I want that one!” Piper’s slice was from the side and didn’t have the big strawberry or the chocolate bear. Lily wanted mine. Right in front of Lily, I bit the head off the chocolate bear and ate the strawberry in one go. Lily went ballistic. She lay spread-eagled in the middle of the main walkway, screaming her lungs out, blocking other customers. “Who does this kid belong to? Doesn’t anyone manage her?” customers were muttering. Someone asked me, “Is she your sister?” I looked at Piper. “Is she your sister?” Piper was too embarrassed to own up to it now. She just turned away and ignored the question. I looked at the screaming child. “Well, she is clearly some trashy parents’ bad kid.” I made sure I said it loud enough for Lily’s mom to hear. Lily’s screaming was echoing through the entire restaurant. 5 Finally, a manager walked over. “Whose child is this? Where are the parents?” It was a weekend, and the place was packed. They hadn’t noticed the disturbance until it blocked the walkway. “She’s mine,” the mother finally admitted, acting as if she just noticed. I looked at them both and said, “Aww, you poor thing. Lily, it’s so sad that your own mommy won’t buy you a cake, so you have to scream at strangers.” The mother’s face twisted in rage. “You stuck-up brat! She’s just a little girl. She wanted to wish you a happy birthday, and you couldn’t even share a bite of cake. You are so incredibly selfish.” Finally, the mask was off. Now I knew where Lily got it from. It was all parenting. “I bought the cake,” I said calmly. “It is my property, and I decide who eats it.” “Sharing is kindness, not an obligation. And I don’t know you. Why should I share my birthday cake with strangers?” “And frankly, ‘Ma’am,’ if she wanted cake so badly, why didn’t you go buy her one from the millions of bakeries around here? You let her stand here begging like a street urchin for hours.” The woman lost it. “Who are you calling ‘Ma’am’? I’m twenty-seven!” “Stop fighting, stop fighting!” Piper jumped back into her superhero role. “Maya, you’re being way too mean to a mother and her child.” “Lily, please, just take this piece.” Piper crouched down and stroked Lily’s head. “Go on, take it. It’s better than nothing, or that mean witch over there will just laugh at you again.” I needed to make this absolutely clear to the mother-daughter duo. “I am stating this for the record: This cake belongs to me, but I did not give it to the child. Piper is the one giving it to her.” Lily’s mom waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What could possibly go wrong?” Under the watchful eye of the manager, they finally left. Lily turned back, smirked at me, and made a face. “Old witch!” 6 Even after they were gone, Piper didn’t stop. “Maya, I can’t believe you. If you had just given her a bite of your cake in the first place, none of this would have happened. We wouldn’t have annoyed the other customers.” My other roommate, Chloe, couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Are you serious right now, Piper?” “Stop gaslighting Maya. You act like you’re some moral authority.” “We weren’t even going to invite you. If Maya wasn’t nice enough to invite her roommate, Harper and I would have been happy to leave you at home.” Harper added, “We’re going to that new karaoke place now. You are not invited. Bye, Piper.” “Let’s go, Maya.” Piper was clenching her teeth in fury. “You guys are unbelievable. I was just being a good person and helping a kid.” Seeing us actually walk away, she stamped her feet in frustration. “I’m telling Ms. Vance that you guys are bullying me!” I turned back to Piper. “We aren’t bullying you. We just don’t like you. There’s a difference.” And we left. It was my birthday, and despite the drama, I was determined to have a good time and not let people who aren’t worth my energy ruin my mood. When we got back to the quad at 10:00 PM, my phone rang. It was Ms. Vance, our RA. “Maya, I just had a woman call campus security. She claims her five-year-old child is in the emergency room right now with food poisoning, and she is holding you responsible for the hospital bill because of the cake you gave her.” I guess I was right. Trouble was bound to find us. I wished I hadn’t had my ID card out on the table. She must have caught my name on it. I handed the phone to Piper, putting it on speaker so she couldn’t lie. “RA needs to talk to you.” Piper was ecstatic. “The RA? Why is she calling you? Did my scholarship application get approved?!” The next second, her face went utterly pale. “Ms. Vance, I had nothing to do with this. It was Maya’s birthday, she bought the cake.” “You guys need to figure out who is responsible. The child is at the city hospital right now. We need a resolution immediately.” She hung up. Piper looked completely lost. I couldn’t believe she still tried to push the blame on me. It was a quiet night in our dorm room. Ms. Vance woke me up with another call at 7:00 AM the next morning. “Have you guys resolved this? The mother called the Dean’s office. This is going to be a huge issue for the school if it escalates.” “Ms. Vance, I have a recording of the entire conversation. Piper insisted on giving her the cake. Chloe and Harper can testify that I tried to stop her.” “So you guys didn’t talk at all last night?” “I am not responsible for this. Call Piper directly.” I wasn’t a candidate for any scholarships or leadership awards, so I didn’t need to treat Ms. Vance like she was royalty. Besides, I hadn’t done anything wrong. 7 I had just closed my eyes again when the phone rang again. Ms. Vance sighed. “I can’t get through to Piper. Is she in the room?” I looked at the top bunk across from me. I could hear snoring. “She’s sleeping.” “She is sleeping? After this?!” “Maya, please wake her up. The mom is threatening to file a police report for assault.” Now Piper was in deep trouble. I knew that mother-daughter pair was trouble the second I saw them. A normal person, seeing their child begging like a homeless person for cake, would manage their kid. She did nothing. I kicked the bottom of Piper’s bunk. “Are you crazy? Why are you waking me up?!” she screamed. “Maya, stop screaming at me while I’m on the phone!” Seriously? She was screaming at me. She loved playing the good guy, and now that it blew up, she was trying to dodge responsibility. She rolled over, ready to go back to sleep. Ms. Vance’s voice came through. “Is she awake? Let me talk to her.” I climbed out of bed and ripped open her bunk curtains. “Seriously, what is wrong with you?” I handed her the phone. “RA needs to talk to you.” She covered her ears and pretended not to hear. “Piper, don’t be a coward. Deal with the mess you made.” Ms. Vance was losing patience. “Piper, get out of bed now. If this goes on social media, you can kiss your scholarship goodbye.” Hearing her scholarship mentioned, Piper bolted upright. She grabbed my phone out of my hand. “Good morning, Ms. Vance, sorry. I’m up. I’ll deal with it.” 8 While Piper was getting ready, Ms. Vance sent me a text. “The three of you need to go to the hospital. I’m on my way now to talk to the mother.” Reading that text made me see red. I woke Chloe and Harper. “I heard the RA call you,” Chloe muttered, getting dressed. “This is ridiculous. Piper literally pushed us aside to give that kid the cake, and now we all have to suffer.” “Why didn’t some so-called good person just tell Ms. Vance that she was the one who gave the cake?” Harper glared at Piper. Piper said nothing. Before we even got downstairs, we heard screaming outside. I looked out the window. It was Lily’s mom. I have no idea how she found out where we lived. She was arguing with campus security at the entrance to our hall. “Let me in! Tell Elena Blake to get down here right now! My daughter is lying in a hospital bed!” “She’s only five! She was maliciously poisoned by one of your students!” “And now they won’t even pay the hospital bill, and they’re denying everything!” She started sobbing dramatically. I closed my eyes in frustration. I am never leaving my ID card on the table again! A crowd of students was gathering to watch the drama. “Poisoned? Oh my god, that’s terrible!” “Who would do that to a kid?” “I know Elena Blake. She’s in the legal studies program. She’s usually really nice. I doubt she’d poison a kid, there must be some mistake.” … Campus security was easily managing the woman, preventing her from getting in, but the woman, desperate, grabbed the security guard’s arm and bit him. “Holy cow! Are you a dog?” the guard yelled. “You Sterling Academy trash are trying to protect a criminal!” Ms. Vance finally ran over. “Ma’am, please calm down. We can talk about this.” Ms. Vance frantically called us. “Are you guys coming or not?! I rushed to the hospital, and they told me the mom had left, so I had to rush back here!” “Piper is still doing her hair.” “What?! In the middle of this, she’s doing her hair? It’s her fault, and she’s treating it like a spa day? Does she want to get expelled?” “Five minutes, Elena. If you guys aren’t down here in five minutes, I am not protecting you.” 9 Piper finally came downstairs. As soon as Lily’s mom saw her, she marched over and slapped Piper right in the face. “Elena Blake, why did you give my daughter a poisoned cake?! How could you be so evil?!” Everyone, including Ms. Vance and security, was shocked. Harper spoke up from behind me. “She’s not Elena. That’s Piper.” Finally! The truth was out! I wasn’t going to get blamed for Piper’s mistakes. Ms. Vance and security quickly pulled the woman off Piper. The woman glared at Ms. Vance. “Are you these girls’ dean?” Ms. Vance nodded, clearly intimidated. I have never seen her look so small. “Looks like your school’s moral education has failed. Your students are out here poisoning five-year-olds.” Piper, now nursing a red cheek, was not about to take this. “Your daughter was staring like she was starving to death. I gave her my piece out of kindness! Did I do something wrong?” “Besides, I didn’t buy the cake. Elena over there bought it. If you want someone to blame, blame her.” Piper pointed at me. “It was her birthday yesterday, and she bought it. Everyone knows she hates me. Maybe she poisoned it for me, and your daughter just accidentally ate it. So this is not my fault.” Piper’s ability to lie was terrifying. I simply hit “play” on my phone recording. Everyone heard the entire argument from last night. The crowd went silent. Even Ms. Vance looked shocked. “Ms. Vance, Ma’am, you both heard the recording. I begged Piper not to give Lily the cake. We all know kids have sensitive stomachs, and it was a cold cake. I told Piper not to give it to her, but she ignored me.” “It was my birthday yesterday. Why on earth would I poison my own cake? And my other two roommates ate it, and they are perfectly fine.” Piper glared at me, disbelief on her face. “I can’t believe you actually recorded that. You are so petty.” “If I hadn’t, I’d be the one getting slapped and accused of poisoning a child right now.” Most of the original crowd had gone to class, but a new group of onlookers had gathered. “Wow, it was Piper. I heard she was an honors student, I guess grades don’t mean you’re a good person.” “Grades and morals are two completely different things.” I really hoped people would start sharing the real story, otherwise I’d be known as the girl who poisoned a kid forever. Seeing she wasn’t getting anywhere with me, Piper turned to Lily’s mom. “And again, your daughter demanded it. I was just trying to be nice.” “You think talking now is going to help? My daughter is lying in a hospital bed because of you. The doctor said she needs to stay for at least a week.” “Lily is lying there crying, asking why the ‘pretty sister’ tried to hurt her.” Lily’s mom started crying. It was heart-wrenching, honestly. As much as I disliked her, I couldn’t imagine how a mother felt seeing her child suffer in a hospital bed. Even the security guard she had bitten was starting to console her. “Ma’am, it’s going to be okay. Kids are resilient. When I was a kid, I ate bad food all the time, and I turned out fine.” “Yeah, definitely,” we all chimed in, supporting the guard. Ms. Vance immediately said, “Piper, apologize to her right now.” With the RA and the Dean of Students pressuring her, Piper had to apologize, whether she wanted to or not. Through clenched teeth, she forced out the words, “I’m sorry.”

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After spending $600 to buy my mom a new washing machine, she did nothing but complain that it didn’t wash clean. “Honestly, you’re pretty calculating. You didn’t even split the $10 you got from selling the old washer with your sister; you just pocketed it yourself.” My face suddenly flushed. I thought she was joking, so I forced an awkward smile and asked her why she would think that. She rolled her eyes at me and changed the subject: “This piece of junk washer leaves the sheets and duvet covers soaking wet.” I took a look and realized she was using the 15-minute “Quick Wash” cycle. As I adjusted the settings for larger loads and explained which cycles to use for which clothes, she pushed me aside and stubbornly turned the dial back to “Quick Wash.” “Your sister said Quick Wash saves water and is gentler on clothes.” She got angrier as she spoke, slamming the laundry basket down. “You calculate every little thing! It’s not like you’re paying the water bill, so of course you don’t care. Unlike your sister, who considers everything for us.” My heart went cold. I called the junk hauler, paid him $20 to buy the old washer back, and moved the new one into my own apartment. 1 I got an $800 bonus from a project at work, and I immediately thought of the washing machine at my parents’ house. It was over a decade old, the kind of ancient machine where you had to manually take the wet clothes out and put them into a separate spin-dryer tub. Sometimes, when washing heavy items, they would soak up so much water that it was a huge struggle for my mom to lift them. She’d almost thrown her back out several times. I specifically took half a day off on delivery day. Watching the junk hauler carry away the old washer, I felt a warm glow inside, thinking about how surprised and happy my mom would be when she got home. My mom came back from her Zumba class, opened the door, and froze. Still holding her workout towel, she stood in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at the new washing machine for a long time. “Where’s the old one?” she asked. “Sold it to the junk guy,” I said, wiping down the control panel of the new machine. “Only got ten bucks for it.” Her expression instantly changed, and she threw her towel onto the sofa with a smack. “Who gave you permission to make that decision?!” Her voice was shrill enough to startle me. “That washer still worked fine!” I thought she was just being her usual frugal self, so I hurried to explain. “Mom, this new one is energy-efficient and quiet, and it can…” “Spendthrift!” she cut me off, turning on her heel and marching into the kitchen. She turned the faucet on full blast, vigorously scrubbing a dishcloth that didn’t even need washing, as if she were venting her anger. She didn’t speak to me for the rest of the night, not even touching the macarons I had specially bought for her. Two days later, while I was at work, my phone suddenly rang. As soon as I answered, I heard her yelling on the other end: “What kind of piece of junk washing machine did you buy?! It doesn’t wash clean at all!” When I rushed over, she was pulling bedsheets out of the drum. Detergent had clumped together, sticking to the soaking wet fabric, and water was dripping down, forming a small puddle on the floor. I crouched down to check what was wrong. “Honestly, you’re pretty calculating,” she said suddenly. My fingers paused, and I looked up at her. She was scrubbing the outside of the washing machine hard with a rag, not even looking at me. “You didn’t even split the ten bucks you got from selling the old washer with your sister; you just pocketed it yourself.” I thought I misheard her. “Huh?” “Ten dollars.” She finally straightened up and threw the rag heavily into the sink. “You even scheme over such a petty amount of money.” My face suddenly burned. I laughed awkwardly. “Mom, why would you think that…” She rolled her eyes at me and turned to pull the duvet cover out of the drum. “This piece of junk washer leaves the sheets and duvet covers soaking wet.” Only then did I notice she had been using the 15-minute “Quick Wash” cycle. No wonder the detergent hadn’t even fully dissolved. As I adjusted the settings for larger loads and explained which cycles to use for which clothes, she pushed me aside and stubbornly turned the dial back to “Quick Wash.” “Your sister said Quick Wash saves water and is gentler on clothes.” She got more agitated as she spoke, slamming the laundry basket down heavily. “You calculate every little thing! It’s not like you’re paying the water bill, so of course you don’t care. Unlike your sister, who considers everything for us.” 2 I finally understood what she was really upset about. Everything in this house, in my mom’s eyes, belonged to my sister, Chloe. Even a broken-down old washing machine that could only fetch ten dollars. Even though I spent $600 buying her a new washing machine, I shouldn’t have taken that ten dollars from the old one; I should have given it to my sister. My hand was still resting on the washing machine’s control panel, my fingertips turning cold. My mom stood nearby, impatiently shaking out the clothes that needed to be rewashed, waiting for me to move out of the way. “Mom,” my voice trembled slightly. “Do you really think that ten dollars should have gone to Chloe?” She furrowed her brow. “Who cares about ten dollars? I’m just saying that you as a person are…” “Do you?” I interrupted her, my voice sharper than I intended. “Do you think the money from selling that washing machine should belong to Chloe?” “That’s not what I meant!” My mom suddenly raised her voice. “I just think you act too selfishly, never considering anyone else.” That sentence was like a key, suddenly unlocking the floodgates of memory. Two years ago, when they remodeled the kitchen, they sold the old cabinets for $150. The money was wired directly to Chloe’s account. At the time, my mom said, “Your sister is a bit strapped for cash right now.” But back then, I had just put down the deposit on my apartment, and the monthly mortgage payments were so high I couldn’t sleep at night. “It’s been like this since we were little,” my voice grew steadier. “As long as it’s something in this house, it eventually becomes Chloe’s. You were even afraid I was taking advantage by taking the money for a broken washing machine.” My mom suddenly slammed the laundry basket down again. “What nonsense are you talking about!” “Nonsense?” I pulled out my phone. “What about the tea set Grandpa left behind last year? You said you wanted to save it for Chloe because she ‘knows how to appreciate it.’ But Grandpa explicitly said he was leaving it to me!” The washing machine emitted a shrill beep; the Quick Wash cycle was over. My mom yanked the door open, a blast of damp air from the wet clothes hitting my face. “Your sister has always been thoughtful since she was little,” she said, shaking the clothes vigorously, water droplets splashing onto my face. “Unlike you, always nitpicking over every little thing.” I wiped my face, suddenly remembering something from college. That year, I saved up my work-study money to buy my mom a cashmere sweater. Without even trying it on, she said the color was too dull. Later, I saw that exact sweater on Chloe’s Instagram, with the caption saying it was a new outfit Mom bought her. “Nitpicking?” I let out a laugh, took out my phone, and dialed the junk hauler. “Hey, Frank, could you bring back that washing machine from the other day… yeah, the one I sold you for ten bucks… Pay extra? How much? …Fine, twenty bucks it is.” My mom snapped her head around. “What are you doing?!” “Buying my sister’s washing machine back,” I said, hanging up the phone. My voice was so light it didn’t sound like my own. “After all, it’s ten dollars. I can’t just pocket that all by myself.” Her face instantly turned bright red. “Are you crazy? Why are you wasting money buying that junk back?!” “Wasting money?” I nodded. “I spent six hundred dollars on this new washing machine. It was the bonus from the project I worked late nights to finish. Do you know what I use? The broken, secondhand washer the previous owner left behind. It sounds like a tractor when it runs. I’ll take this new one back for myself to use. This way, no one wastes any money, and you can keep living with your precious sister’s washing machine.” My mom opened her mouth, seemingly unable to believe I would say such a thing. After all, I had always been incredibly obedient to her, never showing a hint of defiance. She was so angry she couldn’t speak for a long time. I made another call to schedule a mover for the new washing machine that afternoon. After hanging up, the room was terrifyingly quiet, save for my mom’s heavy breathing. “Mom,” I said softly. “Do you remember the year I took the SATs?” Seeing my tone soften, she thought I was about to apologize. Her attitude immediately became arrogant, and she let out a cold snort. “I had a fever of 102 degrees, but you said Chloe had finals the next day and we couldn’t disturb her sleep.” My nails dug deeply into my palms. “I sat alone in the urgent care clinic getting an IV drip until 3 AM.” My mom was completely enraged now. She grabbed a plastic hanger and hit me on the back. “Why are you bringing up ancient history!” My back stung with fiery pain. I couldn’t help but think of how, whenever it rained when we were kids, my mom waiting at the school gate always only had one umbrella—the one meant for Chloe. My mom would always say, “You’re older than your sister. Run faster and you won’t get wet.” “You know what,” I said, picking up my purse and heading for the door. “Sometimes I really wish you’d just say it straight. Just say you like Chloe more. Just say everything in this house belongs to her.” As the door clicked shut behind me, I heard a loud crash from inside. She had probably thrown the laundry basket again. 3 The movers were quick. The new washing machine was moved to my apartment that same day. When we went to pick it up, my mom blocked the doorway, refusing to let us move it. In the end, I had to call the building super to come help carry it out. And that old washing machine was placed exactly back in its original spot. That night, as I was assembling the hookups for the new washing machine, my sister called. As soon as I answered, her shrill voice pierced my eardrum: “Are you serious? Causing such a huge scene over a stupid washing machine!” I crouched on the floor, still holding a screwdriver. “Am I the one causing a scene, or is Mom? Do you even know what happened?” “You’ve been like this since we were little!” She completely ignored what I said. “Whenever you see me have something, you have to fight Mom for it. Now you’re even fighting over a washing machine. Mom is right, you act like a beggar!” The screwdriver trembled in my hand. I suddenly remembered buying my apartment two years ago. I could have bought the place I liked in cash. But Chloe said she wanted to go on an exchange program abroad. My mom cried at home all day, saying the art school was too expensive and she felt like she was failing Chloe. Seeing my mom’s red, swollen eyes, my heart softened, and I gave her $30,000. Then I took out a mortgage to buy my place. I’m still paying it off. “A beggar? Since you brought it up,” my voice was surprisingly calm, “when do you plan on returning the thirty thousand I gave you?” The other end of the line went suddenly quiet. “What… what do you mean?” Chloe’s voice was noticeably weaker. “You know how much I make right now…” “When you came back to the States last year, you said you’d pay me back as soon as you found a job.” I jammed the screwdriver hard into the toolbox. “It’s been over a year now. You’ve changed jobs twice, bought a three-thousand-dollar designer bag, but you just don’t have the money to pay me back?” “You!” She suddenly raised her voice. “Mom is right, you’re cold-blooded! You deserve it that Mom doesn’t love you!” The call disconnected. The dial tone sounded exceptionally harsh in the empty apartment. I crouched next to the new washing machine and suddenly laughed out loud. It’s true, Mom doesn’t love me. Everyone knows it, but I was the only one still deceiving myself. I picked up my phone and sent Chloe a text message: “Transfer the money to my card by next week. Otherwise, I’m coming to your work to cause a scene.” When we were little, Mom would buy Chloe new dresses, while mine were made from Chloe’s hand-me-downs. When I thought they were ugly and refused to wear them, Mom would coax me, saying: “Your sister’s clothes are good quality.” Now, I no longer plan to yield or wrong myself. Even if the price is finally admitting that the person I tried so hard to please will never love me. 4 By Monday noon, my bank account balance remained unchanged. Chloe hadn’t replied to my messages or called me. I stared at my phone screen, suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous. She probably thought I would just swallow my anger and let it go, like always. At 3 PM, I hired four friends who were personal trainers and went to the dance studio where Chloe worked. They wore black tank tops, their arm tattoos faintly visible. Standing at the studio entrance, they immediately drew the side-eyes of the parents waiting there. “Who are you looking for?” the girl at the front desk asked, her voice trembling. My friend showed a picture of the IOU on his phone: “Looking for Chloe Evans. We’re here to collect a debt.” In less than five minutes, my phone started vibrating wildly. Chloe’s voice was tearful: “Are you crazy?! Make them leave! There are kids here!” “Where’s the money?” I asked calmly. “Where am I supposed to get thirty thousand dollars right now?!” she practically screamed. “Hannah, are you trying to drive me to my death?” I listened to the noisy background sounds on her end—the murmurs of the parents and the crying of the kids. Unable to handle the pressure, Chloe burst into tears. This scene was all too familiar to me. From childhood to adulthood, as long as she cried, the whole world would make way for her. “Then we’ll do it my way,” my voice was light, but very clear. “Every day at 2 PM, they will wait for you punctually at the studio entrance. Until you pay off your debt.” “You!” She suddenly lowered her voice. “Mom is right, you’re just a…” I hung up immediately. Ten minutes later, my mom’s call came in as expected. The word “Mom” danced on the screen. I stared at it for a long time until the ringing stopped. She called three more times in a row, and I muted them all. Towards evening, my friend texted: “Your sister was scared out of her mind. She hid in the bathroom crying the whole time. An old lady came running over and yelled at us, saying she was her mother.” I replied with a cash tip via Venmo to express my thanks, then opened my photo gallery and scrolled to a family portrait from last Thanksgiving. In the photo, Chloe, wearing an expensive dance outfit, stood in the center. Mom had her arm around Chloe’s shoulder, smiling with pride. And I stood on the far edge, wearing a sweater bought on sale. My finger swiped across the screen, and I opened another folder. Inside were a few yellowed old photos. In them, a seven-year-old me wearing an obviously oversized dance leotard stood on the stage of the community center. That leotard was altered by Mom from an old dress of Chloe’s. The lace on the collar was yellowed from washing. I still remember that summer. I secretly saved my allowance for half a year just to afford the tuition for the dance class at the community center. Every time I went to class, I had to arrive half an hour early to hide in the bathroom and change from my school uniform into the leotard, because Mom wouldn’t let me learn, saying it was a waste of money. “Your limbs are as stiff as a board,” she always said. “You look like a duck when you dance.” But for that recital, the teacher specifically chose me as the lead dancer. I gathered the courage to tell Mom. What I got in return was a slap across the face: “Who gave you permission to make that decision?!” On the day of the performance, I was dancing enthusiastically when I suddenly saw Mom storm onto the stage angrily. In front of everyone, she grabbed me by my ponytail and dragged me off the stage. “You dance so ugly and you still go on stage, aren’t you embarrassed?” Her voice echoed through the entire auditorium. I will never forget the surprised looks of the kids in the audience and the awkward expression on my teacher’s face. And Chloe? When she was five, Mom signed her up for the most expensive private dance lessons. “Our Chloe is going to pursue the arts in the future,” she told everyone she met. “So she can take fewer detours.” But Chloe was afraid of pain. It wasn’t until she was ten that she could barely manage a backbend. Every time she practiced basic skills, she cried hysterically. Mom would hold her and coax her: “Stop practicing, stop practicing. Our Chloe is so talented, she doesn’t need to practice these.” Later, when Chloe graduated high school, her academic grades were terrible. Mom insisted on spending tens of thousands to send her to an arts college. The teachers at that third-rate arts school shook their heads when they saw Chloe’s dance video, but Mom insisted, “You guys just don’t know how to appreciate art.” Later, Chloe threw a fit about wanting to study abroad for a semester, and Mom took out all her retirement savings. “Foreign education resources are better,” she explained to our relatives, never mentioning a word about how that money was what I was supposed to use to buy a house. In the photo, seven-year-old me has bright eyes, not yet knowing that I would never get a single word of praise from my mom in this lifetime. And the present me, who finished college on scholarships, working as a manager in a multinational corporation, still couldn’t compare to Chloe, who taught dance at a children’s art center. In Mom’s eyes, at least Chloe had an artistic dream, while I was just a cold-blooded money-making machine. I locked my photo gallery just as the washing machine beeped. The clothes were done washing, emitting a faint lavender scent. I shook them out one by one, suddenly noticing an old pajama set pressed at the very bottom. It was a hand-me-down Chloe didn’t want anymore last year. I picked up the pajamas and threw them into the trash can without hesitation. Just like throwing away the dance dreams I desperately suppressed for so many years to please my mom. 5 But I never expected that before my friends could go back to Chloe’s studio, my mom would find her way to my office first. She made a huge scene in the lobby of my company. Her voice was sharp enough to pierce the glass doors: “You heartless thing! I raised you, and this is how you treat your sister?” The young receptionist shrank back in fear. A few colleagues poked their heads out of the elevator. Mom intentionally wore an old winter coat today, and deliberately left her hair uncombed, looking exactly like an old woman bullied by her unfilial daughter. “You just want to cause a scene, don’t you?” She suddenly lunged at me, trying to grab my hair. “Everyone can cause a scene!” I stepped aside to avoid her, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number right in front of her. “Hey, Mark, take ten guys to Chloe’s dance studio right now.” I intentionally raised my voice. “Yes, right now.” My mom’s hand froze in mid-air, her expression looking like she had suddenly been choked. “You… you wouldn’t dare!” her voice started to tremble. I turned the phone screen towards her, showing the ongoing call. “I’m not afraid of losing face, but I wonder if Chloe is?” I lowered my voice. “Ten guys standing at the classroom door. Do you think those parents will still let their kids learn dance from her?” My mom’s face instantly turned deathly pale. She knew this daughter’s weak spot too well. The thing Chloe cared about most was her pathetic pride. “You’ve changed,” her voice suddenly dropped. “You used to never be like this…” “Yeah, I’ve changed.” I sneered. “Because I don’t want to be that idiot kneeling and begging you for a glance anymore.” A memory suddenly flashed back to when I was twelve. I won first place in a school poetry recitation competition. When I rushed home excitedly to show Mom my certificate, I found her helping Chloe practice a simple nursery rhyme. Chloe couldn’t even sing in tune, yet Mom clapped until her hands were red. “Do you remember my elementary school graduation?” I asked suddenly. “You said you were too busy at work to come. But that day, I saw you in the corner of the playground giving Chloe a popsicle.” Mom’s eyes darted away for a second, but she quickly hardened her heart again. “Why are you bringing this up now? Chloe has always…” “Always needed special care, I know.” I cut her off. “But I don’t need it. Push me too far, and I’m capable of anything.” “Do you think you can still control me?” The security guards had gathered around. Mom finally realized this tactic wasn’t working. She glared at me fiercely one last time. “Karma will get you!” Watching her stumbling away, I suddenly remembered a dream I had last night. In the dream, seven-year-old me wore that ill-fitting dance leotard, dancing freely on an empty stage. No mockery, no interruptions, and no one rushing up to drag me off. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Chloe: “I transferred half the money. I’ll pay the rest next month. Tell them not to come.” I didn’t reply, just put the phone back in my pocket. The elevator doors slowly closed. The mirror reflected my calm face. It turns out, burning bridges feels much more liberating than I imagined. 6 I knew they wouldn’t let it go so easily. Sure enough, within two days, they started acting up again. A message tagging me popped up in the family group chat. It was a voice memo from Chloe. I tapped it on speaker. Her tearful voice immediately exploded in the room: “Hannah, are you trying to drive me to death? I really don’t have any money right now! I can barely pay my rent this month…” Following that was a 60-second voice memo from Mom. I didn’t even need to listen to know the contents. It was the same old tired rhetoric: “ungrateful monster,” “heartless,” etc. Sure enough, halfway through, I heard her screaming: “You think you’re so tough now, huh? Even scheming against your own sister!” I sneered and scrolled up the chat history. I found that my aunts and uncles had long joined the crusade: “We’re all family, why make it so ugly?” “Your sister is having a hard time right now. As the older sister, can’t you be a little accommodating?” “Young people these days, no sense of family loyalty at all…” My finger hovered over the screen for a few seconds. I suddenly found it extremely ridiculous. These people didn’t say a word when Mom humiliated me in public. They played deaf and dumb when Chloe stole from me. Now they’re all acting like champions of justice. I opened my photo gallery and dumped all the pre-prepared photos of the IOU, transfer records, and chat screenshots of Chloe promising to repay the loan into the group chat. Then I typed slowly and deliberately: “I originally wanted to give you some leeway, but now, within three days, transfer the remaining fifteen thousand dollars to my card.” “Otherwise, see you in court. Don’t blame me for not warning you when you become a deadbeat debtor.” The group chat instantly became terrifyingly quiet. I could imagine those relatives on the other end of the phone, eyes wide, fingers hovering over the screen, not daring to press down. In less than two minutes, a private message from Mom popped up: “Do you have to make this so ugly? If your sister becomes a deadbeat debtor, how will she get married? How will she find a job?” I could almost hear her grinding her teeth. In the past, whenever she acted like this, I would soften and back down. But this time, I replied directly: “Why didn’t she think about that when she borrowed the money?” “You’re ruthless! I raised you for nothing!” she replied immediately. Looking at that sentence, I suddenly remembered when I was in college. I lived frugally, eating instant ramen for half a month straight just to buy her a birthday present. After she received the gift, she turned around and gave it to Chloe. “Yeah,” I typed out word by word. “You raised me just so I could be a human ATM for Chloe.” After sending that sentence, I left the family group chat entirely. Those so-called relatives were only ever spectators. Let them think what they want. In all the years I was bullied, none of them ever spoke up for me anyway. My phone vibrated again. It was a call from Chloe. I declined it immediately. She then sent a message: “Hannah, I really don’t have the money. Please give me a few more months…” I replied firmly and decisively: “Three days. Not a penny less.” “Are you trying to ruin me?!” she replied instantly, adding an angry emoji. Looking at that sentence, I suddenly laughed out loud. How ridiculous. She was the one who borrowed money and refused to pay it back, and now it’s my fault for ruining her? “You ruined yourself.” I replied, then put the conversation on ‘Do Not Disturb’. 7 When the doorbell rang, I was organizing litigation materials. Through the peephole, I saw Mom standing awkwardly outside. She was carrying a bulky plastic bag, her hair slightly messed up by the wind. Today, she surprisingly wore a relatively new winter coat, instead of the faded, worn-out jacket she usually wore. “Who is it?” I asked intentionally. “It’s Mom,” her voice came through the door, carrying a deliberately softened tone. “I brought you some home-cured meat.” I opened the door, and a gust of cold wind carrying the salty, fishy smell of cured meat hit my face. Mom immediately thrust the plastic bag towards me: “Look, I brought this especially for you. You loved it when you were little.” I didn’t take it. She just pushed past me and squeezed inside, leaving muddy footprints from her shoes on the floor. She walked familiarly towards the kitchen, the plastic bag rustling: “You kid, why throw such a big tantrum over a few words? Still as stubborn as when you were little.” The sound of the refrigerator door opening came from the kitchen, followed by her exaggerated gasp: “Oh my, why is the fridge empty? What do you usually eat? Don’t tell me you order takeout every day.” She poked her head out, feigning a look of heartache. “Let Mom cook a meal for you?” I didn’t say anything, walking to the dining table to look at what she brought. The plastic bag contained a few bags of expired dates, an opened tin of lotus root powder with only a little left, and a package of cured meat wrapped in old newspaper. The newspaper was stained with grease. It was probably ancient inventory dug out from the very bottom of her freezer. “No need,” I put the lotus root powder tin back. “I don’t like spicy food.” Mom’s hand froze as she was washing it at the sink. The faucet was running. With her back to me, her shoulders stiffened slightly. “Nonsense. Didn’t you love the meat I cured when you were little? You used to eat two big bowls of rice with it every time.” Ten years ago, that winter, I was hospitalized with acute gastroenteritis. The doctor advised a bland diet. Mom, however, insisted on bringing her specially made spicy cured meat, claiming it would stimulate my appetite. The truth was, she had a craving for spicy food while keeping me company at the hospital. I forced myself to finish it despite the stomach pain. I vomited violently in the middle of the night, but she complained that I was being delicate. “I was faking it,” I said. The faucet was jerked shut. Mom turned around, not even drying her hands. Dark water stains were left on her clothes. “What do you mean?” “I don’t like spicy food. I never have.” I heard my own voice sound very calm. “Just like I don’t like Chloe’s hand-me-downs, I don’t like being treated as an ATM, and I don’t like always being put last.” Her expression started to contort. That familiar look of anger mixed with guilt resurfaced on her face. “I went through so much hardship raising you, and this is how you repay me?” “I worry about your health. I spend $500 every year to take you for checkups. I saw you stressing about Chloe not having money for her exchange program, stressing so much you got sores in your mouth, so I gave you $30,000 and took out a mortgage to buy my own place. All these years, I’ve been by your side every time you got sick. When has your precious Chloe ever done that?” I counted on my fingers. “Does none of this count as repayment?” “That’s what you’re supposed to do!” She suddenly raised her voice, the mask of maternal love completely shattering. “You’re the older sister! Isn’t it right to yield to your younger sister?” “I’m your mother. Isn’t it right for you to do these things?” I looked at her face, flushed red with anger, and suddenly found it absurd. I had actually wronged myself for thirty years for a person like this. “You should leave.” I pulled the front door open, letting the cold wind rush in. “The lawsuit will not be withdrawn, and the money must be returned.” Her lips trembled, a hint of panic flashing in her eyes. “Are you really going to be this ruthless?” “Compared to what you guys did to me,” I smiled, “what is this?” “I’m warning you, don’t make a scene here. I’m not afraid. If you really want to cause a scene, I have ways to cause a scene with Chloe.” I watched her cheap lipstick-painted lips open and close a few times. Ultimately, she couldn’t say a word. She just violently yanked off her apron, threw it on the floor, and stormed out without looking back. The moment the door clicked shut, I picked up that package of cured meat and threw it into the trash can.

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