Category: English

1 I was working my usual delivery route when I stumbled upon a young couple having a massive argument in the middle of the street. The girl slammed a bag of expensive cherries onto the asphalt, her finger practically boring a hole into the young man’s nose as she screamed about how useless he was. Right then, a cascade of glowing text started scrolling across my vision like live chat comments on a streaming video. Oh, my poor baby girl! Please don’t be mad at him just because he couldn’t buy you that designer handbag. He’s been hauling bricks at a construction site all day! Just wait until he gets his memories back and returns to his billionaire family! This is the classic bratty-heroine trope. She throws tantrums, and he just spoils her rotten. He only endures her because she saved his life. He’s just dirt-poor right now. Don’t worry, this cheap rental-apartment phase will pass soon. I quietly picked up the cherries that were still intact, brushed them off, and slipped them into a plastic bag. Then, I walked over and handed them to the young man—the billionaire heir in disguise. If he was the kind of male lead who paid back his debts of gratitude with interest, then I definitely needed to get in on this action. Young master, your loyal servant has arrived! 2 Xavier had just been scolded to within an inch of his life by Sasha. He stood there with his head bowed, a dark, gloomy shadow hanging over his eyes, when he suddenly registered my presence. I handed him the bag of salvaged cherries. “Take them,” I said. “Cherries are expensive. Even if she doesn’t want them, you should eat some yourself.” Xavier stared at me for a second before offering a low, raspy, “Thank you.” Sasha, standing off to the side, immediately bristled. “I threw those away! Why are you picking them up? I told you, I don’t want cherries! I want a designer bag!” “You promised me, Xavier! Where is my bag?” Even face-to-face with such unreasonable behavior, Xavier did not lose his temper. He kept his head down, his voice quiet as he tried to explain. “I was supposed to get a bonus, but I missed a few shifts last week. I will save up and buy it for you soon, I promise.” Sasha snatched the bag of cherries from his hands, raising her arm to fling them away again. “Are you blaming me for you missing work? You always have an excuse!” I stepped in, raising my hands to catch the bag before she could throw it. “Actually, I’ve never tasted cherries before. If you two are just going to throw them away, could I have them?” Sasha tossed the bag to me with a haughty sniff. “Whatever. I was going to throw them in the trash anyway. Eat them if you want.” She turned on her heel, preparing to head back to their building. “It’s too hot out here. I’m going back to the AC.” “If you don’t get me that bag by the end of the week, I’m never speaking to you again!” 3 With Sasha’s dramatic exit, Xavier and I were left standing on the sidewalk, staring at each other. Xavier motioned toward the bag in my hands. “Go ahead and take them.” I noticed he was standing around, waiting for his afternoon shift at the nearby construction site to start. The scorching midday sun had already left him looking pale and exhausted. I walked over to a nearby public faucet, thoroughly washed the cherries, and walked back to him. “I can’t just eat your expensive fruit for free,” I said, offering the bag. “Let’s share.” “It’s a waste to let them sit. Besides, you haven’t had lunch yet, have you?” It was the peak of the afternoon heat, the only break the construction workers got all day. Instead of eating, Xavier had spent his entire break buying cherries and arguing with Sasha. “We are both working-class people,” I urged him. “If you don’t eat, you’ll pass out on the job, and then you’ll lose a whole day’s wages.” My practical reasoning finally got through to him. He reached into the bag and began eating the cherries with me. While we ate, my eyes caught his work schedule sticking out of his pocket. I was genuinely shocked by his grueling hours. “You must make a decent amount with all these shifts, right?” Xavier looked slightly embarrassed. “My expenses are high.” “I want to save up for a house and a car. I guess I’m just not working hard enough.” Once the cherries were gone, he wiped his hands and headed back to the construction site. I watched his retreating figure, deeply amused. Not working hard enough? You are a billionaire heir, young master. You have probably never worked this hard in your entire life. But don’t worry. Your loyal future assistant is on her way. 4 After finishing my evening delivery shifts, I set out to find Xavier to build up some goodwill. Thanks to the scrolling comments in my vision, I could easily pinpoint his exact location. The text was constantly debating and analyzing his life, sometimes scrolling so fast it made my eyes hurt. It was late at night, and I had already finished my workday. I saw Xavier preparing to head back into the construction site. “You’re working the night shift too?” I asked, genuinely shocked. Since the cherry incident, we had established a casual, friendly report. “They pay a little extra to have someone watch the site at night,” Xavier explained. “I can organize the bricks while I’m here. I need to make whatever I can.” I let out a soft sigh. This kind of off-the-books night watch was technically a labor violation, but the site manager and Xavier had a silent agreement. “You should stop hauling bricks at night,” I told him gently. “The pay might be decent, but it’s incredibly dangerous to work in the dark when you’re already exhausted.” “I know a recycling scrap yard nearby that is looking for a night watchman. The pay is definitely better than what you’re making here.” I had been eyeing that job myself for a long time. But it was a strict overnight shift, which did not fit my delivery schedule. Xavier, who was already working illegal night shifts, was the perfect candidate. Xavier hesitated. “I don’t have an ID.” I blinked. In this day and age, how could someone be a legal ghost? Immediately, a flurry of comments scrolled across my eyes. Oh, the heroine lied to him! She told him he has a criminal record so he’d be too terrified to go to the police station for a new ID. In reality, his wealthy family isn’t stupid. The moment he registers for a new ID, they’ll track him down instantly. There’s no way they’d let him haul bricks in the dirt. The heroine hasn’t fully secured his heart yet, so she’s terrified of him returning to his family. His amnesia was literally caused by her! She’s pushing him away while keeping him close. This toxic dynamic is so good. So that was the truth. To keep their little romance going, these people really went to extreme lengths. They practically treated their lovers like hostages. “Do you want to get one?” I asked cautiously. “The local precinct is just down the road.” Seeing the sudden flicker of hesitation and fear in Xavier’s eyes, I realized he did not trust me enough yet. I decided not to push. “Well, the manager at the scrap yard is a close friend of mine. He won’t require an ID. I can introduce you.” If the heroine could manipulate him to build affection, so could I. Once he returned to his family, he would surely remember the person who had thrown him a lifeline when he was at his absolute lowest. 5 I successfully got Xavier hired at the scrap yard. He looked slightly embarrassed as he thanked me. “I’m really sorry for putting you to so much trouble.” I waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. You shared those expensive cherries with me, and I’d never had them before.” Xavier murmured, “I hadn’t had them before either.” I fell silent for a moment. He had amnesia, so he genuinely believed he was poor. But I was actually living in poverty. The night was long and quiet. The scrap yard only required attention when clients arrived with deliveries, so Xavier spent most of his time sitting in the small office. He actually initiated a conversation with me. “Have you always made a living as a delivery driver?” I nodded. “I had no choice. I graduated right into a terrible job market, and my family is drowned in debt. I had to do whatever paid immediately.” Xavier said softly, “I don’t remember my past, but I have a feeling my family was deeply in debt too.” If only you knew you were a billionaire heir. Yet, here he was, guarding a heap of scrap metal in a dusty yard after a full day of manual labor. If he didn’t have the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and perfect physical build of a romance novel protagonist, he probably would have collapsed from sheer exhaustion by now. This was undoubtedly the darkest period of his life. But I did not pity him. I was in a pretty miserable state myself. I was only acting as a good Samaritan because I had a clear goal in mind. I reached into the office locker and handed him a clean, folded shirt. “Your shirt has a massive tear in the back. You should change.” Xavier took the shirt, thanking me profusely. I truly could not comprehend the mindset of a man who refused to buy himself a cheap new shirt but was willing to kill himself working night shifts to buy a designer handbag for his girlfriend. Perhaps that was the mysterious power of love. As a broke, practical person, it was entirely beyond my understanding. “I’ll bring you some breakfast in the morning,” I told him. “If anything comes up, just call my number.” “The job is simple. A lot of people bring in scrap metal overnight, so you just need to log their names, the weight of the scrap, and the payout amount.” Xavier nodded seriously, noting down every instruction. “Thank you, Valerie.” Suddenly, the comments in my vision started scrolling frantically. Who is this girl? Is she a romantic rival? No, she’s not even in the original novel! The heroine was supposed to apologize to him at the construction site tonight, but this random girl took him to a scrap yard! The plot is completely derailed! Ugh, I don’t want to see another woman near the male lead. Xavier is gone for the entire night. The heroine is going to throw a massive fit tomorrow! I love seeing powerful men submit to their lovers! How dare this minor NPC interfere with our leads’ relationship? I rolled my eyes mentally. Interfere? I was just trying to survive. I just wanted Xavier to remember my kindness. Once he returned to his penthouse, all I needed was a tiny crumb of his wealth to escape my own financial ruin. 6 Xavier had barely finished his first overnight shift when Sasha tracked him down. My uncle, who managed the scrap yard, called me in a panic, his voice dripping with frustration. “Valerie, where did you find this guy? He hasn’t even finished a single shift, and his family is already here causing a massive scene!” When I rushed over to the scrap yard, Sasha was in the middle of a screaming tantrum. “Are you trying to abandon me? Why didn’t you come home last night?” “Didn’t we agree that you have to be with me every single night?” Xavier had left her a detailed note along with a hot meal before his shift, but Sasha was completely inconsolable. She had finally brought herself to go to the construction site to apologize, only to find him gone. Xavier tried to calm her down. “This is a new job I found. It pays much better than the night watch at the construction site.” Sasha refused to listen. She covered her ears, screaming that she wanted both her designer bag and him at home immediately, behaving as if she wanted to split Xavier into two people. Xavier remained incredibly patient, offering endless explanations without a single hint of anger. Living in that cramped apartment together had clearly fostered a deep, intense affection between them. But I was not there to watch a romantic drama. I had a job to protect. “Miss, this is a place of business,” I said, stepping between them. “Please leave the premises.” Sasha glared at me, her eyes narrowing. “You again! Do you think Xavier is handsome? What is your actual angle here?” I shrugged. “The rules are simple. If you keep disrupting our work, we will have to let him go.” “Why don’t you try asking around this neighborhood? See if any other business is willing to hire a guy with no ID. If he gets caught working illegally elsewhere, he might end up in a holding cell.” Sasha’s expression instantly faltered, a flash of genuine panic crossing her face. Xavier added, “The job is great, Sasha. I can buy you that bag much sooner this way.” Sasha bit her lip, looking uneasy. “Fine, whatever. You can work here.” She pointed a finger at me, her voice sharp. “But I’m warning you, don’t you dare try to steal my boyfriend!” 7 I looked at myself, then back at Sasha. “Are you really that insecure?” I asked, amused. Sasha was undeniably beautiful. Even in a simple pair of denim jeans, she looked like a delicate princess who had accidentally wandered into the real world. But comparing herself to me was completely pointless. Once Xavier recovered his memories and returned to his family, she would have to face a swarm of incredibly wealthy, highly educated heiresses competing for his attention. Sasha sniffed, letting out a dramatic yawn. “I’m exhausted. I’m going back to sleep. If I don’t get enough sleep, my skin is going to ruin.” “And since you weren’t home last night, nobody was there to boil hot water for me. How was I supposed to take a shower? I am so sick of that cheap apartment.” Xavier immediately began apologizing again, a look of profound exhaustion and embarrassment crossing his handsome face. “I’m sorry. Can you try to shower a bit earlier next time? I promise I’ll have the water ready for you before I leave for my shift.” The comments in my vision flared up again. She is so bratty! I love this dynamic! The heroine is so delicate. Since she saved his life and is his only anchor in the world, she has every right to be arrogant. Honestly, the moment he goes to work, we lose all the cute, domestic moments. But it’s still satisfying to see him act like her devoted servant even when he’s exhausted, spending all his money on her. Even though Sasha’s demands were utterly ridiculous, Xavier continued to coax her gently. As long as Sasha kept Xavier hidden away in that tiny apartment, his grueling, miserable routine would continue indefinitely. I felt a sudden wave of disgust at the entire situation. The young man had a life of luxury waiting for him, yet he was being forced to endure manual labor and emotional abuse just to satisfy her selfish desire to keep him to herself. All for the sake of some romantic fantasy, a brilliant young man was being dragged into the dirt. I, too, was being dragged down by my father’s debts, working myself to the bone without a single second of relief. I turned to Sasha, but my words were directed entirely at Xavier. “I saw a flyer on the bulletin board down the street. The Kingsley family is offering a massive reward for their missing son. The sketch on the poster looks exactly like you, Xavier. Do you think it’s possible you’re him?” Sasha’s face instantly went paper-white. Her voice trembled with panic. “What… what are you talking about?” She grabbed Xavier’s hand, dragging him toward the exit. “We are leaving. We’re not working here anymore!” “Let’s go home!”

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After being demoted to guarding the company’s warehouse gates for three years, my manager suddenly decided he wanted to reinstate me. When he marched down to find me with a horde of executives in tow, I was right in the middle of a mobile game with my two work buddies. My manager immediately lost his temper, barking at me: “You used to be a decent team lead, and now you’re rolling in the mud with these lowlifes? Get your ass back to your desk. There’s a major contract that needs your signature!” Zack, the supervisor who had stolen my position, looked at my dusty, worn-out clothes and sneered: “It’s your lucky day, Finn. The company books have a tiny hundred-million-dollar leak. If you just sign this confession and admit you took the money, the company promises to take care of you for life.” VP Richard, wearing his usual greasy, friendly mask, chimed in: “What’s the point of wasting your life with these two losers? Take the fall for this, and the moment you get out, I’ll hand you a promotion on a silver platter.” My fingers never stopped tapping the screen, but I was practically shaking with suppressed laughter. Losers? Trash? If only they knew who my two seemingly ordinary gaming buddies actually were. One was Nate, the Chairman’s actual grandson, who was just here to experience how the other half lived. The other was Wilson, our supreme Group President, who had gone undercover to inspect the grassroots level, a man who detested even a single grain of corruption. 1 I had just landed a triple kill when the heavy metal door of the warehouse was kicked open with a deafening bang. Seven or eight people filed into the room. The three men leading the pack stood front and center, flanked by several other managers. They had brought quite an entourage. “Finn, get your ass back to the main office and sign these papers,” Manager Logan said, looking down his nose at me. I didn’t even look up from my screen: “Get ready for the team fight,” I muttered into my headset. Logan’s face flushed with anger at being ignored. He snatched the phone right out of my hands and slammed it onto the metal workbench with a loud crash. Instantly, every worker in the warehouse stopped what they were doing, their eyes turning toward us with a mix of shock and amusement. “Don’t push your luck, Finn!” Logan snarled. “The company is doing you a massive favor by letting you back into your old position. Who do you think you are?” “I kicked you from a director’s office down to this godforsaken hole with a single word, and I can send you packing to starve on the streets just as easily!” VP Richard stood with his arms crossed, his face twisted in contempt: “The kid has zero ambition. We offer him a golden ladder and he doesn’t even have the sense to climb it. Instead, he wastes his time playing video games with a couple of useless drifters.” “We really misjudged you. We thought sending you to the warehouse floor would build your character and teach you some humility. Instead, you’ve turned into an absolute loser.” I finally looked up, my eyes cold: “Weren’t you the one who banished me here, Richard? Three years ago, I was on the fast track to a promotion. You wanted to put one of your own guys in my chair, so you made up a pathetic excuse and threw me to the gates of this warehouse.” Three years ago, I was the Senior Project Director, managing a team of over fifty people and handling multi-million dollar contracts. Overnight, I was treated like garbage and dumped here to guard the Westside Warehouse gates. After throwing me out like trash, they thought a snapped order would bring me crawling back? Logan’s eyes glinted with calculation. He assumed I had no choice. He thought a forgotten gatekeeper would jump at any bone tossed his way. It was a neat little plan. They had a hundred-million-dollar hole in the company books and desperately needed a scapegoat. And I, Finn, the former director who once held the keys, was the perfect candidate. I had the clearance, the access, and the supposed motive. All it would cost was a few years in a cell in exchange for a vague promise of a comfortable retirement fund and a phantom promotion. To them, this crooked deal was a generous act of charity. I stood up slowly, took one last drag from my cigarette, and blew a thick cloud of smoke directly into Logan’s face. He coughed and sputtered, his eyes wide with rage, but Zack, the newly minted supervisor, quickly held him back: “Finn, don’t be stupid,” Zack said, a greasy smile plastered across his face. “We’re trying to help you get your old life back. The new project is huge, and we need an experienced manager. You’re the best fit.” “Besides, we used to be brothers. I’d never set you up.” I let out a dry laugh: “Brothers? I practically raised you in this industry, Zack. I gave you half my clients and taught you everything I knew. And you repaid me by going behind my back, stealing my accounts, and framing me for taking kickbacks. You don’t get to call me your brother.” Zack had started as my intern. I had poured everything into mentoring him, only for him to stab me in the back the moment he got a taste of greed. Exposed, Zack’s face twisted in embarrassment. He sneered, looking down at my dusty, faded blue-collar uniform: “What are you acting so high and mighty for? You think we can’t handle a pathetic gatekeeper? We tried to play nice, but if you want to make this difficult, we have other ways.” He flicked his wrist, and two burly security guards stepped forward, towering over me: “If you won’t sign willingly, we’ll drag you to the office and press your thumb onto the ink ourselves!” Beside me, Nate and Wilson, my two gaming buddies, set their phones down. They stood up, frowning: “What do you think you’re doing? You want to get physical?” 2 Logan’s expression curdled at the interruption: “What do you two warehouse rats know about anything?” he sneered, waving them off like pesky flies. “Get lost. This is a management matter.” “So working in the warehouse means we aren’t part of the company?” Wilson asked, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. He spoke with his usual slow, measured cadence. He was never one to raise his voice; when you occupy the top rung of the ladder, you rarely have to raise your voice to get things done. “There’s a chain of command, and using your corporate authority to threaten and harass an employee is a blatant violation of labor laws.” “Labor laws?” Zack burst out laughing. “Can you illiterate garbage even read the employee handbook? What do you know about the law?” He pointed a thumb at VP Richard: “Do you have any idea who Richard’s backing is? Even the Chairman has to treat him with respect. Labor laws? We could tear this entire warehouse down, and the Chairman wouldn’t dare say a word to us!” “Keep running your mouths, and I’ll fire both of you on the spot!” “The Chairman?” Nate shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “That’s funny. I’ve never heard him mention your names before.” Richard blinked, then erupted into a roaring laugh: “What kind of delusional garbage are you spitting? You know the Chairman?” “You look like a beggar who can’t even get past the lobby doors. Keep dreaming, kid.” Wilson’s gaze turned frosty: “Richard, the Chairman might not know you, but I certainly do. A year ago, you were caught skimming from the employee bonus pool. I thought you had learned your lesson, but it seems you’ve only grown more reckless.” “Did you honestly think you could pull off a stunt like this without anyone noticing?” Richard’s face went from pale to a dark, furious red. Wilson had hit a nerve. They had marched in here assuming the warehouse was filled with uneducated, compliant laborers who would be too intimidated by corporate suits to ask questions. They never expected to run into two workers who knew exactly what they were talking about. Exposed in front of his subordinates, VP Richard exploded: “What the hell did you just say?” Seeing his boss lose his temper, Manager Logan lunged forward, grabbing Wilson by the collar and yanking him out of his chair: “Where did you get these pathetic rumors, you piece of trash? Our VP is a man of absolute integrity! Keep running your mouth, and I’ll personally shut it for you!” He shoved Wilson hard. Wilson stumbled back, crashing into a heavy metal shelf. His glasses flew off his face, shattering on the concrete. “Wilson!” I yelled, rushing forward to help him up. “What is wrong with you? Why are you hands-on?” Wilson was a man of quiet refinement. He had a small army of assistants to handle any unpleasantness in his daily life; he had never dealt with such raw, brutish violence before. “I’m the one you want!” I yelled, shielding them. “Leave them out of this!” Nate pulled out his phone, his face pale with anger: “You guys are dead.” Zack was fast. He snatched the phone right out of Nate’s hand, holding it triumphantly above his head: “Who are you going to call, huh? The police? Go ahead and try. My guys will have you broken in half before they even dispatch a car!” Logan waved his hand dismissively: “Enough talk. Why are we wasting our breath on these minimum-wage losers? You step on them, and they still think your shoes smell nice.” The managers burst into cruel laughter, looking down at us like we were bugs. Even the other warehouse workers began whispering among themselves, pointing fingers: “Management is here, just do what they say. Why make trouble when you’re just trying to earn a paycheck?” “Isn’t it just a few years in prison? If they offered me that kind of money to take the fall, I’d jump at it. Why act so proud?” Even the warehouse supervisor pointed at Wilson, Nate, and me, shouting: “You three ungrateful idiots! How dare you disobey direct orders from the corporate office? I’ll fire all of you by the end of the shift!” Logan nodded with satisfaction, then turned back to me: “Finn, I’ll ask you one last time. Are you signing the papers?” “If you say no, you’re fired right now!” 3 Logan smirked. He had watched me sweat and bleed for that director position three years ago. He knew I had a mortgage to pay and a family to support in the city. He knew that if I got fired at my age, finding another decent job would be nearly impossible. My family would starve. The onlookers chuckled when they heard the threat of termination: “Serves him right! Getting fired over a stupid cake and some pride. Good luck finding another job in this economy.” “Just apologize, sign the damn papers, and keep your job.” Everyone expected me to break. They thought I loved this job too much to lose it. Instead, I shrugged, completely unfazed: “Go ahead and fire me. It’s not like there’s any lower room for demotion anyway.” The entire room went dead silent. Nobody expected me to throw away my livelihood so easily. Zack stepped forward, his eyes narrowing: “Think carefully, Finn. Once you’re out of this company, you’re blacklisted. You’ll never recover.” “You’ve spent too much time rolling in the mud with these losers. You don’t even know what’s good for you anymore.” I laughed: “Do whatever you want. Fire me. You guys have never cared about rules anyway. What can a simple gatekeeper do to stop you?” I sounded defeated, but the truth was, during my three years in this warehouse, I had been quietly keeping records of all the suppliers and the paper trails of Richard’s fraudulent procurement network. Seeing my stubbornness, VP Richard stepped forward, patting Logan on the shoulder. He turned to me with a greasy, paternal smile: “Finn, let’s be reasonable. The company has been very generous to you. For three years, we’ve paid your salary and kept your benefits active. Any other place would have thrown you out onto the street long ago.” “We’re offering you a lifeline out of old friendship. You sign for the hundred million, and you’ll do a few easy years. When you get out, the associate director’s chair is yours, and the company will take care of you for the rest of your life.” “You’re a gatekeeper, Finn. What other future do you have?” He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper: “You need to understand something. I can make you or break you with a single phone call. Cooperate, and everyone wins. Refuse… and I’ll make sure no company in this state ever hires you again.” I looked him dead in the eye and smiled: “Richard, there’s always a bigger fish in the sea. Did you really think your crimes would stay buried forever?” Richard’s smile vanished. He nodded to the two burly guards to grab me. But Nate stepped directly in front of me, his chest puffed out: “If you lay one hand on him, I’m telling my grandfather everything!” “Your grandfather?” Zack mocked, bursting into another fit of laughter. “Who the hell is your grandfather? A construction worker or a street sweeper?” Nate ignored him, locking his eyes on VP Richard: “His corporate authority is nothing compared to my grandfather’s. You look down on us for earning minimum wage, but my grandfather makes more in an hour than you’ll see in a lifetime.” The warehouse fell quiet for a fraction of a second before exploding into hysterical laughter: “He makes more in an hour than we see in a lifetime?” Zack laughed so hard he had to wipe his eyes. “Who is your grandfather, Bill Gates? Or maybe you’re talking about Monopoly money?” Logan clutched his stomach: “This kid has lost his mind from working too many shifts. He’s hallucinating.” They couldn’t fathom a warehouse worker having any real power. “Enough games,” VP Richard snapped, his patience entirely depleted: “Unless you can miraculously summon the Group President himself to this filthy floor, you are signing those papers today!” 4 I glanced at Wilson, who was staring at VP Richard with a dark, terrifying expression. It was a look I recognized. Last week, when the supervisor was tricked into signing a fraudulent supplier agreement, Wilson had taken one look at it, and the supplier had come crawling back the next morning, begging to tear up the contract. Wilson was a man who detested corruption, and he certainly wasn’t going to let these thugs walk all over us. He spoke, his tone completely flat: “A hundred-million-dollar deficit. And you are certain you want Finn to take the blame for it?” Richard scowled, barely deigning to look at Wilson: “Who asked you, old man? You want to pack your bags too?” Wilson pulled a spare pair of glasses from his breast pocket, slipped them on, and stared at Logan and his cronies: “You said only the President could resolve this. Well, I am here. How do you want to handle it?” He pulled out his phone and pressed speed dial. His voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet warehouse, every word carried like thunder: “This is Wilson Pendelton. Send the internal affairs and audit division to the Westside Warehouse immediately. We have a massive embezzlement case to secure.” Wilson hung up. VP Richard’s face drained of color, his lips trembling slightly: “Wilson Pendelton? The… Group President? What are you doing here?” Zack and Logan stared in disbelief: “The President? Working in a dusty warehouse? That’s impossible. There must be a mistake.” Zack leaned in close to Richard, whispering urgently: “Richard, have you ever actually seen the President in person? He’s bluffing. The corporate office never said anything about Wilson inspecting the warehouse floor.” “Besides, the news yesterday said the Chairman and the President flew to Europe for a merger. There’s no way he’s here.” “Don’t let him get in your head!” Hearing this, Richard’s panic turned back into red-hot fury. His greasy sneer returned: “The Group President on a warehouse floor? You really think I’m that stupid? Everyone knows Wilson Pendelton is in Europe!” “How dare you pretend to be the President to scare me! You warehouse trash really are something else. I’m going to make sure you never walk again!” “Get them! Grab all three of them and beat some sense into them!” The burly guards closed in on Wilson. Seeing that his actual title meant nothing to these thugs, Wilson’s face went completely dark: “How dare you touch the President of this company!” One of the guards laughed, spitting on the floor: “The President? If you’re the President, I’m his father!” They grabbed Nate too. He struggled against their grip, shouting: “I am the Chairman’s grandson! If you touch me, my grandfather will destroy you!” The managers ignored his threats, laughing in his face: “Go ahead and cry to your granddaddy, kid!” The other workers watched, whispering coldly: “What a joke. Trying to pass themselves off as corporate royalty. Look at them now.” “Now you’re getting beaten up because you wouldn’t just keep your head down.” A guard grabbed Wilson by the throat, pinning him against a shelf. Two other men pinned my arms behind my back, holding me fast, while another guard kicked Nate hard in the back of the knee, forcing him to his knees on the concrete: “I’m going to break you pieces of trash!” Suddenly, a roaring, authoritative voice echoed from the warehouse entrance: “Who dares to touch my grandson?!”

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1 The first time I asked for a divorce, Buzz looked at me with those calm, reasonable eyes and said, “At least wait until our son finishes middle school.” I nodded, swallowing my grievances. The second time I brought it up, Buzz used the same gentle, unyielding tone. “At least wait until he graduates from high school.” Again, I nodded, letting another chunk of my life slip away. Now, our son had finally finished his college entrance exams. When I brought up the divorce for the third time, Buzz still refused to sign the papers. Suddenly, everyone in our social circle felt entitled to offer their opinion. “You’ve spent half your life together. Why are you suddenly making such a fuss about a divorce now?” “Exactly. Buzz is a successful businessman, and he still looks incredibly handsome in his late forties. Frankly, Vivian, you’re the one winning here.” Even my own son, Anson, came to lecture me. “Mom, I know Aunt Annette has always been a thorn in your side. But it’s been so many years, and everyone is getting older. Why can’t you just let it go?” But a thorn buried deep in the flesh does not simply disappear. It festers. It throbs with a quiet, agonizing pain with every single breath. Buzz could not pull that thorn out of my heart. So, I had no choice but to cut Buzz out of my life entirely. 2 Despite the overwhelming disapproval from everyone around me, my decision was final. Anson stood in front of the bedroom door, blocking my exit, his voice dripping with childish defiance. “Mom, if you actually go through with this divorce, I swear I won’t go to college.” I continued folding my blouses, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Anson, you are an adult now. You have to take full responsibility for your own choices. If you decide to throw away the last twelve years of your hard work, that is on you.” My blunt response caught him off guard. Flustered and speechless, he whipped out his phone to call his father for backup. “Dad! You need to get home right now! Mom is packing her bags!” I did not care what Buzz said on the other end. I only knew he hung up in a hurry, leaving Anson to throw a tantrum in our room. “Mom, please don’t leave. Please?” It was the same routine he had performed so many times before. In the past, my heart would have melted. Seeing the child I had carried for nine months cry was always my weakness. It was the anchor that had dragged me down, keeping me trapped in this suffocating house for years. But today, looking at his pleading, tear-streaked face, I felt absolutely nothing. I quietly continued packing my clothes, my jewelry, and my legal documents, placing them piece by piece into my suitcase. Suddenly, a large, firm hand clamped down on the rim of the suitcase, halting my movements. Thinking it was Anson trying to aggravate me again, I prepared to tell him to back off. But when I looked up, I met Buzz’s face. He was still as elegant and refined as ever. Time had been exceptionally kind to him; his face had barely changed from the day he had sweet-talked me into marrying him. Yet, his usually unshakeable composure was showing cracks. “Honey, please stop making a scene.” I stood up straight, meeting his gaze. “I am not making a scene.” I truly, deeply, could not live with him for another second. But to Buzz, this was just another minor domestic dispute that could be resolved with a bit of coaxing. He took a tentative step forward. “Are you still upset about Anson’s name?” Upset? I had been plagued by that name for almost two decades. Anson. Anson, which sounded so painfully close to Annette. Buzz had used the birth of our only child to permanently memorialize the woman who held his heart, his true “white moonlight.” How could I not be upset? 3 My introduction to Buzz had been arranged by a mutual friend, Penny. At the time, Penny had practically sworn on her life. “Vivian, trust me on this. He is the definition of a high-quality bachelor.” She had not lied to me. The young Buzz was incredibly handsome, wealthy, and charming. During our first meeting, he had swept me off my feet, and everything had progressed naturally from dating to a beautiful wedding, followed shortly by the birth of our son, Anson. In those early years, I had genuinely believed that God had blessed me with a perfect life. Until Anson’s first birthday party. That afternoon, many of Buzz’s childhood friends had gathered at our house. They were almost entirely men, and when men gather, the alcohol flows freely. And when they drink too much, secrets become impossible to keep. Buzz’s oldest friend, Greg, was the first to lose his filter. Slurring his words and hiccuping, he leaned over the table. “Hey, Buzz… did you name your kid Anson because you still can’t get over Annette?” It was the first time I had ever heard that name. Before Greg could elaborate, another friend scrambled to cover his mouth, trying to laugh it off. “What are you babbling about, Greg? Buzz obviously chose the name because it sounds noble and classic! It means ‘son of the divine’!” “Exactly! It’s a beautiful, literary name. Don’t listen to this drunk idiot.” But Buzz, who had just downed a glass of whiskey, sat beside me with a glazed, wistful look on his face. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice thick with a quiet melancholy. “I really can’t forget her.” The friends panicked, trying to shut him up, but Greg broke free from their grip, laughing mockingly. “Of course he can’t! Buzz spent twenty years telling everyone he was going to marry Annette, since he was eight years old. Then she goes and marries some starving artist. Who could possibly get over that?” The revelation hit me like a physical blow. It was a past Buzz had completely hidden from me. Before I could demand an explanation, Greg passed out face-first onto the dining table. Buzz let out a loud, drunken laugh. “Greg, you lightweight! You promised you’d help me win her back…” The rest of Buzz’s sentence was muffled as three of his friends practically tackled him to keep him quiet. The dining room descended into a chaotic scramble of excuses. “Vivian, don’t mind them. They’re just talking complete nonsense because of the alcohol. Buzz isn’t like that at all.” “Yeah, Vivian, that’s all ancient history. You’re the one who is his wife now.” It was a chaotic mess. That night, Buzz slept like a baby, his secret laid bare by his friends without a hint of remorse on his part. But I stayed awake. Under the cold moonlight, I stared at our infant son, then at Buzz’s sleeping face, until the sun began to rise. The next morning, Buzz woke up, clearly annoyed by his drunken display from the night before. He offered a brief, dismissive explanation. “Annette and I are in the past.” I was twenty-seven when I met the twenty-eight-year-old Buzz. I was not naive enough to expect him to have a completely blank romantic history. But I could not accept my son being named as a monument to his ex-lover. Yet, Buzz flatly refused to change the name. When I kept pushing the issue, his frustration boiled over. “It’s just a name, Vivian. Why do you have to be so incredibly petty?” But was it really just a name? The tension between us escalated. I took our son and went to the government registry to legally change his name myself, only to find out that Buzz had already blocked any unilateral changes. When I threatened a divorce, Buzz had looked at me and said, “Our son is too young. At least wait until he finishes middle school.” When I refused to back down, his tone had turned cold and threatening. “Vivian, you might not care about this marriage, but do you still care about your family’s business partnership with the Sinclair Group?” My parents’ livelihood depended on that partnership. Buzz’s grip on me was ironclad, ruthless, and terrifyingly effective. Over the years, I had tried to cope. I had even foolishly hoped that perhaps somewhere deep down, Buzz had grown to love me. But eventually, I realized I was nothing more than a clown in his grand romantic tragedy. From marrying me to having a child, to refusing to let me go, Buzz’s entire life was an elaborate performance designed to comfort Annette. He wanted to show her: Look, even without you, I am living a perfect, successful life. So, Annette, you go ahead and chase your happiness. You don’t have to worry about me. 4 Buzz yanked my suitcase behind him, his tone softening into a gentle, pleading murmur. “If it really bothers you that much, we can go and legally change Anson’s name tomorrow.” For nearly twenty years, I had begged for this. Now that he was finally offering it, I realized I did not want it anymore. Buzz watched me, his expression almost submissive. “What would you like to rename him?” Before I could answer that his offer was decades too late, Anson interrupted, his voice dripping with annoyance. “I’m not changing my name! My name is Anson, and I love it! Mom, why are you always so obsessed with Aunt Annette? Is it really that big of a deal?” A spark of anger flared in my chest. “It is not a small thing!” Anson raised his voice, shouting over me. “It is! You’re just incredibly jealous of Aunt Annette! That’s why you threw away all her old photos and gifts from our house, and now you want to ruin my name too!” Slap. Buzz’s hand struck Anson’s cheek with a sharp crack. “How dare you speak to your mother like that? Get out of here!” Anson clutched his reddening cheek in utter disbelief. “I only said what you always think! Mom is just a bitter, stubborn woman, and someone needed to tell her the truth!” Before he could finish his sentence, my hand flew across his other cheek, striking him just as hard. Anson stumbled backward, tears welling in his eyes. He glared at both of us before bolting toward the front door. “I’m going to Aunt Annette’s house, and I’m never coming back!” The bedroom finally fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Buzz rubbed his temples, trying to smooth things over. “He is just an immature kid, Vivian. Don’t take his words to heart. And please, let’s not talk about divorce anymore. Annette and I have been completely over for years.” “But Anson is eighteen,” I said, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. “Why do you think he is so incredibly attached to his ‘Aunt Annette’?” “Is it because you spent years singing her praises to him? Or is it because you constantly snuck him over to her house behind my back?” “Or was it both?” Buzz thought he had hidden his tracks perfectly. But every single time the two of them returned from their “father-son outings,” they would reek of a heavy citrus cologne, a pathetic attempt to mask the distinct lavender scent that Annette always wore. It had been going on for years. 5 There was a time when the sheer exhaustion of fighting had worn away my sharp edges. I had accepted my fate, resigning myself to a lifetime of quiet misery just to give my son a stable home. After Anson finished middle school, neither Buzz nor I had brought up the divorce again, maintaining a fragile, silent truce. When Anson entered high school, his grades began to slip. Buzz suggested sending him to a private physics tutor, and Anson had agreed, attending the sessions with an unusual amount of enthusiasm. I had assumed he simply had a charismatic teacher. Until three months later. Buzz was tied up with an important client, so I offered to drive Anson to his session. The moment I suggested it, Anson’s behavior turned incredibly bizarre. First, he claimed to have a sudden, agonizing stomach ache. Then, he complained of a migraine. He did everything in his power to avoid getting into my car. My suspicions were aroused. The following week, when Buzz drove him to his tutoring session, I quietly followed them in my own car. Their vehicle eventually pulled up in front of a gorgeous villa surrounded by blooming fields of lavender. Anson jumped out of the passenger seat, running toward the front door with a bright, genuine smile. “Aunt Annette! We’re here!” Aunt Annette. The name felt like a physical blow to my chest. A beautiful, elegant woman walked out of the villa, her face lighting up as she greeted him. Anson grinned, practically bouncing on his heels. “Aunt Annette, I want to eat your special short ribs today, and your roasted beef…” “I’ve already prepared everything,” she replied, her voice soft and maternal. Buzz stepped out of the car, carrying a brand-new Hermès shopping bag, which he handed to her with a familiar warmth. “Annette, you really shouldn’t spoil him so much…” The scene was picture-perfect, a warm, loving family reunion. And to me, it was the ultimate, cold-blooded betrayal. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. I did not want to storm into her house and act like a hysterical, screaming wife demanding answers. I refused to give them the satisfaction of looking down on me. I quietly turned my car around and drove back to our empty house. I sat in the dark, watching the streetlights flicker through the window, hiding my humiliation in the shadows. It was late in the evening when Buzz and Anson finally returned. They walked through the door, practically radiating a thick, suffocating scent of lavender. I sent Anson up to his room, leaving me alone with Buzz. I tossed the photos I had taken onto the coffee table. “I thought he was going to a tutoring center. Since when does his physics tutor live in a private villa?” Buzz turned on the lights. When he saw the photos, the color drained from his face, and he looked momentarily panicked. “Annette was always excellent at physics,” he stammered. “I just thought she could help Anson with his grades.” His excuse was laughably pathetic. “I checked her records, Buzz,” I said, my voice cracking with years of unshed tears. “Annette was an art major. How on earth is she qualified to tutor our son in physics?” That night, our house erupted into the worst screaming match of our marriage, ending with my second demand for a divorce. But once again, Buzz found my weakness. “Anson is at a critical juncture in his life with his upcoming college entrance exams. Let’s at least wait until he graduates, Vivian. For his sake.” He knew exactly which strings to pull to keep me in line. I lost all my strength, and I agreed to wait one last time. But even after that confrontation, they continued to sneak over to Annette’s villa. They simply became more careful, drenching themselves in that strong citrus cologne before coming home to cover up the lavender scent. Over time, my heart simply went numb. I lost my weakness. I spent the remaining years counting down the days until Anson’s high school graduation. I was finally ready to leave Buzz and this toxic house behind. 6 Faced with my cold, unwavering stare, Buzz found himself completely out of excuses. But even if he had a thousand more lies, he could not stop me from leaving. I yanked my suitcase back from his grip, my voice deadly quiet. “Buzz, three strikes and you’re out. You need to let me go.” Buzz’s face darkened, but he realized he had no leverage left. The business partnerships between our families had been systematically phased out ever since I took over my family’s company. Any minor losses from a split would not affect us in the slightest. As for Anson, he was an adult now. He could no longer be used as a hostage to keep me trapped. Buzz opened and closed his mouth, desperately searching for something to say. Finally, he resorted to playing the emotional card. “Vivian, please. I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I used to love Annette, and I know I’ve hurt you deeply. But we’ve built a life together over the last twenty years. I’ve grown to care for you, and I swear, I have never physically cheated on you since the day we married.” It was almost comical. Did he truly believe that emotional infidelity was not a betrayal? He had treated me as a convenient shield to hide his failed romance, and he had named the child I carried for nine months to honor his first love. And he dared to claim he had never wronged me? Any lingering affection I had for him had died years ago, buried under a mountain of lies. “We are getting a divorce,” I said, my tone flat. “From now on, you can call me Vivian, or you can call me your soon-to-be ex-wife.” My absolute certainty seemed to terrify him. “Please don’t do this. We can talk about this.” “There is nothing left to talk about! I have spent two decades tolerating you and this hollow marriage. Let me go, Buzz. The divorce papers are on the kitchen island. I will see you at the courthouse at nine tomorrow morning.” Buzz tried to grab my arm, but I brushed past him, pushing him out of my way as I walked out of the bedroom. My shove was hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps before he regained his footing. As I walked down the grand staircase, the sharp click of my high heels echoed off the marble walls of the empty villa. Just as my hand touched the front doorknob, Buzz’s voice drifted down from the landing, sounding hollow and broken. “Are you really throwing me away?” I did not turn around. “Yes.” I pulled the door open, but his voice stopped me one last time. “Vivian… my chest hurts.” My fingers tightened around the metal handle, a faint tremor running through my hand. After so many years of resentment and cold silence, I had almost forgotten that there was a time when Buzz and I had been genuinely happy. When we first met, Buzz had pursued me with an intense, romantic fervor. He made sure every anniversary was special, and his proposal had been nothing short of spectacular. He had lied to me, saying we were attending a friend’s engagement party. In the middle of the crowded ballroom, he had suddenly gasped, clutching his chest and falling to one knee. “Vivian… my chest hurts.” He had played the part so realistically that I had panicked, throwing aside my purse and rushing to his side, terrified that something was terribly wrong with him. But then, he had pulled a diamond ring from his pocket, looking up at me with eyes full of a warmth that seemed entirely genuine. “Vivian, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” His words tonight were an exact echo of that memory. For a long time, I had been deeply moved by that proposal. I had believed I was stepping into a lifetime of happiness. But through the years, I had come to realize that his elaborate grand gestures were never truly about me. They were designed to reassure Annette, to show her that he was moving on so she could pursue her own life without guilt. Even his refusal to sign the divorce papers now was likely motivated by vanity, a desire to maintain his perfect public image, or perhaps a fear of what Annette would think if she found out his perfect family had crumbled. It was never about loving me. “Nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” I said coldly, stepping out into the night and slamming the heavy oak door behind me. I walked forward, eager to step into my new life.

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1 I was adopted by my parents from Greenwood Children’s Home. They treated me so well that every night before sleep, I would pray to God, begging Him never to let them send me back. Later, when Mom got pregnant, I hid under my blanket and cried all night, quietly packing the tiny suitcase I had brought with me. But they didn’t send me away. Instead, they loved me even more. The day my little brother was born, Mom held my hand and gently stroked my hair: “It was our big sister who brought us our sweet baby boy.” Dad lifted me high above his head, spinning me around with a booming laugh: “Hope is our little lucky charm, our most precious angel!” I finally stopped living in constant fear. I truly believed I had become a permanent part of this family. Until that day, when my brother broke my beloved astronaut model. In a flash of anger, I shoved him away. He stumbled and landed hard on his bottom. After a shocked silence of two seconds, he burst into a loud, wailing cry. Mom panicked instantly. She pushed me aside roughly, scooping my brother into her arms and desperately checking him for any scratches. Dad rushed over, grabbing my shoulders and pinning me hard against the wall, his eyes a terrifying, bloodshot red: “Did we raise you all these years just so you could bully your brother? Believe it or not, I will take you right back to—” “Charles!” Under Mom’s frantic interruption, Dad’s words cut off. But the damage was done. I understood. The kids at Greenwood had been right all along. For kids like us, once a biological sibling arrives, we always end up being sent back. I had been so foolish to think I was special. I bit my lip and stayed silent, watching Mom and Dad coax my crying brother as they headed out the door. The click of the front door closing was quiet, but it fell on my chest like a heavy stone, crushing me. I thought I would cry, but my eyes were bone dry. I stood in the middle of the quiet living room for a long time before retreating to my bedroom and dragging my small, faded suitcase from under the bed. Five years ago, I had arrived at this house with this exact suitcase. I was so small back then, too young to remember the details of the children’s home. I only remembered Mom kneeling in front of me, her beautiful eyes shining as she asked: “Would you like to come home with me, sweetie?” I had nodded, and she smiled. It was the warmest smile I had ever seen. But just now, there hadn’t been a single trace of warmth in her eyes. As she led my brother out, she hadn’t even glanced back at me. Neither had Dad. I knew they were planning to send me back. Instead of waiting for them to say the words, it was better if I just left on my own. At least that way, I wouldn’t lose all my dignity. I could tell the kids at the home, “They didn’t kick me out. I chose to come back.” Even if they probably wouldn’t believe me. I wiped the dust from the suitcase, pulled open the slightly rusted zipper, and began packing. First, I packed a few clothes: my favorite pink dress, the sweater Mom had knitted for me last winter, and the slightly frayed red wool scarf. I folded them neatly and placed them inside. I didn’t dare take too much, terrified they would think I was greedy. Then, my toys. I hesitated for a long time before picking only two: a worn-out gray stuffed rabbit, and a cheap plastic star necklace. Mom had given me the stuffed rabbit on my very first night in this house. She had whispered, “Keep him close, and you won’t be scared anymore.” Its ears were crooked and the stitching was coming apart, but it was my first gift, and I couldn’t leave it behind. The star necklace was a souvenir Dad had brought back from a business trip, with my name carefully engraved on the back. Finally, I took a framed family photo. It was taken shortly after I arrived. In the picture, Mom and Dad were holding me right in the middle, and my smile was so wide my eyes were squinted shut. I wrapped the frame gently in the knitted sweater, burying it in the center of the suitcase. That way, whenever I missed them, I could sneak a look. Once everything was packed, I zipped the suitcase closed. It felt heavier than it had five years ago, but I could still lift it if I tried. Outside, the night had settled in completely. I sat on top of my suitcase, quietly waiting for them. If they returned and told me they were sending me away, I would say, “That’s okay, I’m already packed.” What if they asked me to stay? If they did, I would slide the suitcase back under the bed and pretend none of this had ever happened. Seven o’clock, eight o’clock, nine o’clock. They still weren’t back. Were they intentionally staying away to give me time to pack up and slip away? Maybe I should just be sensible and take the hint. At five past nine, I stood up and took one last look at my bedroom. My half-finished homework was still spread across the desk. My bed was made with the blanket Mom had freshly dried in the sun yesterday, and I could still smell the faint, warm scent of summer in the fabric. On the windowsill sat the small succulent Mom and I had planted together. We had made a pact to watch it bloom. Sadly, I wouldn’t be around to see it. I pulled the door shut behind me, dragged the suitcase across the quiet living room, and stepped out of the apartment. A blast of freezing night wind hit me, making me shiver. I wrapped my red scarf tighter around my neck and dragged my suitcase into the dark street. The neighborhood was mostly empty. Occasionally, a late-night commuter would hurry past, but no one paid any attention to a little girl dragging a suitcase. The yellow glow of the streetlights stretched my shadow and the outline of my suitcase long across the concrete. Truthfully, I had forgotten the exact route to the children’s home. I only had a vague memory that it was somewhere to the west, so I kept walking in that direction. By the time I reached the fourth intersection, my arms were aching so badly I could barely lift them. The crossing was wide. Right in the middle of the road, the wheel of my suitcase got wedged in a deep pothole. I tugged with all my strength, but it wouldn’t budge. I had to kneel down on the asphalt to lift it free. Right then, a blinding flash of high beams illuminated the road from my right, so bright I had to squeeze my eyes shut. I heard the screech of tires on asphalt, followed by a violent impact. It didn’t hurt. Really, it didn’t hurt at all. I just felt myself floating upward, weightless, like a loose feather caught in a breeze. Below me, my suitcase lay split open on the road, my carefully packed treasures scattering across the dark street. I drifted down, my vision turning hazy as a sharp ringing filled my ears. A rush of footsteps approached, and muffled voices started shouting, but they sounded distant, as if I were listening to them from behind a thick sheet of glass. 2 When my awareness returned, I found myself hovering in the chilly air. Looking down, a crowd had gathered on the street below. In the center of the circle lay a small girl wearing a red scarf, surrounded by scattered clothes and toys. Her eyes were closed. She looked very peaceful. When I caught a glimpse of her face, my heart stopped. It was me. The red and blue lights of the ambulance cast a surreal, flashing glow over the onlookers’ faces. The paramedics knelt beside the girl, trying desperately to revive her, but after a moment, they shook their heads solemnly. They pulled out a clean white sheet and gently covered the small body. A corner of the white fabric quickly bloomed with a dark, wet red, like a lone rose opening in the snow. The truth finally settled over me. I was dead. Maybe it was for the best. This way, the kids at the children’s home wouldn’t have the chance to mock me for being sent back. The crowd slowly thinned out. The police arrived, taking photos and stringing yellow tape across the intersection. My split suitcase was gathered up and placed in the trunk of a squad car. But where was I supposed to go now? I had no idea. I only knew that before I left this world, I wanted to see Mom and Dad one last time. The night wind blew, but I didn’t feel cold. I simply drifted along with the current. As I floated back toward the intersection, a familiar black sedan caught my eye. It was Dad’s car, slowly navigating around the flashing emergency vehicles. I chased after it like a drowning person reaching for a branch, passing effortlessly through the glass window to sit in the back seat next to my brother. The cabin was warm, the heater humming softly. “There were so many people gathered back there,” Mom’s voice drifted from the front passenger seat. “Did something happen?” Dad glanced into the rearview mirror: “Looks like a bad accident. The ambulance and police are both there.” My little brother, Toby, sat beside me, completely absorbed in a brand-new toy car. Its colorful lights flashed, casting a bright, cheerful glow over his face. “The amusement park was so much fun!” Toby chirped, looking up with bright, excited eyes. “Mom, can we go back again next weekend?” Mom turned back to give him a warm smile: “Of course, sweetie. We’ll go again soon.” “And I want cotton candy next time!” Toby kicked his legs happily. “We’ll get whatever you want,” Dad chuckled, watching him through the mirror. “Did you have a good day, buddy?” “The best day ever!” The atmosphere inside the car was light and joyful. Mom scrolled through the photos she had taken on her phone, laughing softly at the pictures. Dad hummed along to a soft tune playing on the radio. Toby continued to play with his toy. I watched the three of them, a heavy ache blooming in my chest. It seemed they were perfectly happy without me. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Mom said, reaching into a shopping bag and pulling out a glossy rectangular box. “I need to put this away.” My eyes widened. It was a brand-new astronaut model, identical to the one Toby had shattered. “We had to go to three different toy stores, but I’m so glad we found the very last one,” Mom said, checking the box carefully. “It looks exactly like the one Hope had, right?” Dad glanced over: “It’s a perfect match. She’s going to love it.” “You really shouldn’t have raised your voice at her like that,” Mom chided gently. “She’s just a child. Toby broke her favorite toy; of course she was going to get upset.” “I know, I lost my temper,” Dad sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was my fault. I’ll make it up to her.” Mom packed the model back into the bag: “Hope is probably still sulking in her room. When we get home, you take the new toy in and apologize.” “I will,” Dad said softly. “Did you get the strawberry cake?” “Yes, from her favorite bakery down the street.” Mom turned around to look at the back seat, her eyes shining with warmth. “And I got her those star-shaped hairpins she’s been begging for.” Toby held up his toy car: “Does sissy get a present too?” “Of course she does,” Mom laughed. “Everyone gets a treat.” I stared at the pristine astronaut model in the box, then at the anticipation on Mom’s face and the quiet regret in Dad’s eyes. In that instant, I understood everything. They weren’t trying to abandon me. They hadn’t stayed out late to force me out of the house. They had spent hours driving from store to store just to find a replacement for my broken toy. They had bought my favorite strawberry cake and the star hairpins. They had even planned out exactly how they would apologize to me. They really, truly loved me. But it was already too late.

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1 “My husband is a vindictive, hot-tempered, incredibly petty piece of work.” “He loves throwing hands when he is angry. If he finds out I lost his phone, he is going to absolutely murder me!” The girl on the other end of the line was ugly-crying so hard she was practically snorting, and the sheer terror in her voice made me shiver. “He… he actually hits you?” I asked, my voice dropping. “Oh, you have no idea! He even…” Before she could finish, a cold, deep male voice sliced through the background noise. “Piper, where is my phone?” Click. The line went dead. I hastily pulled the phone away from my ear to look at the screen. Damn it. Of all the times to die, it had to run out of battery right now. 2 I had a conference to catch, and I could not afford to stand around waiting. My only option was to rush to the convention center and hunt down a portable charger. As I walked, a heavy knot of worry settled in my stomach. Had that poor girl already been hurt? I made up my mind right then. No matter who this guy was, the moment I handed the phone back, I was going to demand he delete every single photo of me. Using some random girl’s picture as his lock screen when he already had a wife? If he was not disgusted by his own behavior, I certainly was. Outside the main exhibition hall, I scanned a QR code at a charging station. While waiting for the power bank to pop out, the hushed whispers of two girls nearby caught my attention. “Did you hear? Hank is here today as a keynote speaker for the main summit!” Hearing that name, my breath caught in my throat. The other girl sighed dreamily. “Hank? No way! A titan like him actually came to this forum? It is such a shame we are stuck in the breakout sessions. The schedules overlap completely. Otherwise, even if we couldn’t hear his speech, we could have stalked the main lobby just to get a glimpse of his gorgeous face.” Clack. The power bank unlocked. I shook myself out of my daze, grabbed the charger, and plugged the phone in. Beside me, the girls had already shifted from business gossip to personal rumors. “By the way, is Hank single? I don’t think I’ve ever seen any media coverage about his private life.” “He must be. I remember reading in some old interview that he had someone he loved back in the day, but she passed away.” Hearing that, the lingering spark of interest in my chest vanished. Was the mortality rate of young women exceptionally high these days? Why did every guy seem to have a tragically deceased first love? Just then, the screen of the lost phone lit up. Before I could even swipe, a flurry of notifications flooded the screen. Ten missed calls. The phone’s GPS is active. I have locked onto your location. Contact me within ten minutes, or I am involving the police. I have filed a report. If you do not contact me immediately, you will face the consequences when the authorities show up. Please, I beg you, give my husband his phone back. He has already slapped me seven times! He is just a really aggressive guy, please don’t be angry. Just have some pity on me and pick up! The messages came from two different numbers. The first set was clearly from the owner, while the desperate pleas at the end were from the crying girl I had spoken to earlier. Judging by the texts, this man was a toxic, arrogant piece of trash. Suddenly, the phone began to ring again. I picked up, and the girl’s frantic sobbing immediately filled my ear. “Oh, thank god! Thank god you finally answered!” “I am so sorry,” I apologized quickly. “The phone died, and I just managed to find a charger. I am currently at a conference. If it’s convenient, could you come by and pick it up?” When I gave her the address, the girl gasped. “What a coincidence! We are actually right nearby. I can be there in five minutes!” To make sure we did not miss each other, I gave her my personal cell phone number as well. After hanging up, I hesitated. Before heading downstairs, I pulled out my wide-brimmed sun hat and a matching face mask from my bag. Once I was sure that only my eyes were visible, I headed toward the main lobby. As I passed the grand hall, the announcer’s voice echoed through the double doors, introducing the guest of honor. The moment the name Hank was spoken, a thunderous wave of applause erupted inside the room. Through the half-open doors, I caught a glimpse of a tall man in a tailored charcoal suit being led onto the stage by the event staff. Time seemed to freeze. In that fleeting second, I was thrown back seven years, looking at the brilliant teenager who had stood on the stage at our high school graduation, delivering the valedictorian speech. He was just as dazzling, just as impossibly out of reach. The phone in my hand buzzed, breaking the spell. “Hey, I’m at the main entrance. Where are you?” Taking a deep breath, I forced my eyes away from the stage and hurried outside. 3 Stepping through the glass doors, I immediately spotted a young woman. She looked to be in her early twenties, wearing a delicate floral dress, clutching her purse with an anxious expression. I walked up to her. “Are you Piper?” The girl’s eyes lit up, and she nodded rapidly. “Yes, that’s me!” I handed the black phone over to her. As she took it, I carefully examined her face. Her skin was flawless and fair, without a single trace of swelling or redness that would suggest she had been struck. As if reading my mind, she casually touched her cheek. “I am used to it by now. My skin has built up a tolerance, so a couple of slaps don’t really leave a mark anymore.” She quickly opened her payment app. “Is your username linked to your phone number? I want to transfer a few thousand dollars to you as a thank-you.” A few thousand? I waved my hands frantically. “No, please, there’s no need. It was just a lost phone. It didn’t take up any of my time.” “How can you say that? You have no idea how much this means to me.” She pointed at the lock screen, which still displayed my old high school photo, and offered a bittersweet smile. “See this? She is his absolute treasure. If this phone had been lost forever, I don’t even want to think about what he would have done to me.” The discomfort in my chest deepened. What a disgusting, hypocritical bastard. He abused his wife at home while running around pretending to mourn a dead girl. I had intended to tell her that the girl in the photo was actually me, but looking at her anxious face, I decided against making things more awkward. Adjusting my mask, I asked quietly, “Is your husband not with you?” “My husband? Who? Oh, right! Him,” she stammered, looking slightly flustered. “He was supposed to come, but his meeting started at the same time, so he couldn’t make it.” So I would not be seeing him today. “You should probably delete that photo for him,” I suggested gently. “Now that he is married, keeping another woman’s picture like that isn’t fair to you.” “Oh, I couldn’t do that!” She shook her head quickly. “I wouldn’t dare.” Seeing my frown, she let out a soft sigh. “What can I do? I am just a glorified placeholder anyway. He only married me because I happen to look like the girl in that photo.” I looked up, staring at the girl who was easily half a head taller than me. She had long legs, a slender waist, a sharp jawline, and perfectly styled wavy hair. I, on the other hand, was barely five-foot-four, weighed a modest hundred and ten pounds, and had a soft, round face with blunt bangs. In what universe did we look alike? After a brief silence, I asked, “If he treats you like this, why do you stay with him?” “He’s filthy rich,” she replied instantly, without a shred of hesitation. Her blunt honesty left me completely speechless. Before I could think of a response, her phone began to ring. I caught a glimpse of the caller ID on her screen: Wyatt. She picked up, her voice instantly turning meek. “I found it! Yes, I have it. I’m coming back right now.” Hanging up, she gave me an apologetic smile. “He is rushing me. Thank you so much again for today!” I waved goodbye, and she scurried off into the crowd. So, the owner of the phone was Wyatt. He was indeed my high school classmate. 4 Though Wyatt and I had not been in the same class, I remembered him clearly. Mostly because of Hank. The two of them had been inseparable childhood friends. Every day after class, Wyatt would wait outside Hank’s classroom so they could head to the cafeteria together. As the top two students who constantly dominated the academic honor roll, they were always the center of attention. Although we had rarely spoken, I remembered Wyatt as a warm, smiling guy who seemed to get along with everyone. Who could have guessed he was such a monster behind closed doors? The priority now was to get in touch with him and force him to delete my photo. But ever since my car accident in senior year and my sudden transfer, I had lost touch with everyone from that school. As I stood there trying to figure out how to contact him, my manager rushed over, looking frantic. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you in the breakout rooms. Come with me, quick!” I blinked. “What’s wrong?” “I just found out Hank is here in the main hall. Our company has been trying to pitch a partnership to his firm for months, but we could never get past his secretaries. The CEO just called and ordered me to secure a contact opportunity by any means necessary.” Securing a contact opportunity by any means necessary. That sounded exactly like the kind of desperate, half-baked plan our boss would come up with. My manager pushed me gently toward the exit of the main hall. “You’re the prettiest girl in our department. You go make the pitch.” What? Me? “No, no, I can’t do that, I…” Before I could finish protesting, the double doors swung open. Hank’s keynote had concluded. A small crowd of executives flanked him as he walked out of the auditorium. Hank walked right at the front, his expression cold and aloof, carrying an aura that practically screamed at people to keep their distance. I stared at him as he approached, just as I had watched him walk down the high school hallways a thousand times before. My heart pounded so violently I could barely breathe. Just as he was about to pass us, my manager gave me a sharp, heavy shove from behind. Off-balance and completely unprepared, I stumbled forward and crashed straight into Hank’s chest. The bustling lobby instantly went dead silent. I instinctively covered my face. Thank god my sun mask was still on. 5 Nobody knew this, but I had spent six months of my life hopelessly chasing Hank. During senior year, we had briefly been assigned as desk partners. Captivated by his quiet brilliance, I had spent every single day manufacturing excuses to ask him academic questions just to hear him speak. My final memory of him was the afternoon I had confessed my feelings, my cheeks burning with hope, only to be met with his icy glare. “I found being your desk partner incredibly annoying.” “I found your constant questions incredibly annoying.” “And now, you telling me that you like me is just as annoying.” “Grace, could you please just stay away from me?” At an age when I believed myself to be invincible, I experienced a crushing, humiliating defeat. To make matters worse, the very next morning, a speeding truck crashed into my father’s car while he was driving me to school. The injuries were severe. We were rushed to a specialist hospital in Savannah for emergency surgery. Later, as my father’s recovery required long-term follow-ups, my family decided to relocate permanently, and I finished my studies at a school in Savannah. That unrequited, humiliating confession became a dark piece of history I tried my best to bury. In the present, the man standing in front of me finally spoke, his voice low and vibrating against my hands. “How long do you plan on holding onto me?” “I am so sorry, so sorry!” Clutching my mask and keeping my head low, I scrambled backward to stand upright. Hank frowned slightly, preparing to walk away. My manager hissed from behind me, “Grace! Make the pitch! Say something!” Hank probably wanted to throw me out of the building, let alone listen to a business pitch. As I took another step back to retreat, Hank suddenly stopped and turned around, his sharp eyes locking onto me. “What is your name?” Before I could open my mouth, my manager chimed in eagerly, “Mr. Vance, her name is Grace!” With my identity exposed, I had no choice but to pull down my mask and offer a weak, awkward wave. “Hi, Hank. Long time no see. Do you remember me?” For three agonizing minutes, Hank just stared at me, completely speechless. Seeing his lack of reaction, I slowly lowered my hand, my smile freezing on my face. Trying to save some dignity, I chuckled dryly. “We went to the same high school, though I transferred out later. It’s completely normal if you don’t remember me.” Hank’s eyes were wide with a shock so profound it looked almost like disbelief. Still, he said nothing. Deciding to stop embarrassing myself, I cleared my throat. “Well, we won’t trouble you any further…” I turned to escape, but Hank’s voice suddenly cracked the silence. “Are you looking for me for something?” “No, I…” “Yes! Yes, of course!” my manager interrupted, nudging me hard. I forced myself to speak. “We were just wondering if your firm would be open to discussing a potential collaboration with our company, Apex Solutions?” He stood quiet for a long moment, as if trying to recall if such a minor company even existed. “You work at Apex? I recall their headquarters is based in Savannah?” “Yes. My father and I were hospitalized there after our accident, and my family ended up settling down in the city permanently.” “So back then… you only transferred?” “Of course.” The expression on his face turned incredibly complex. The color drained from his cheeks, leaving him looking pale and suddenly dark. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “Your contact information.” “What?” “If you want to discuss a collaboration, how am I supposed to reach you without your contact info?” That actually sounded promising. I hurriedly pulled out my phone and displayed my QR code. “We can add each other here. It’s faster.” He reached into his pocket, and his expression faltered again. “I forgot my phone. Tell me your number, and I will have my assistant note it down.” Who forgot their phone in this day and age? It felt like a polite brush-off. Disappointed, I recited my number, and his assistant quickly jotted it down. Hank looked at me. “Is that all you wanted to discuss? Just business? Nothing else?” What else could there possibly be? We were practically strangers now. But his question did remind me of something. “Actually, there is one personal thing.” His shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “Go ahead.” “Do you happen to have Wyatt’s phone number?” Hank’s face instantly went cold. “Why are you looking for him?” Embarrassed to admit that Wyatt had my picture on his lock screen, I stammered, “Just… some personal matters to clear up.” “I don’t have it,” he snapped, his tone freezing over. With his sudden shift in attitude, I did not dare to push further. I merely offered a quiet, “Thank you anyway.” I guess he still disliked me as much as he did in high school. 6 That evening, shortly after I checked into my hotel, a friend request notification popped up on my phone. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the name: Hank. My fingers moved faster than my brain, immediately tapping Accept. Almost instantly, a message popped up. Are you staying at a hotel near the venue? I blinked. Yes, why? Send me your location. You dropped something when you bumped into me earlier. I’ll drive over to return it. My things? What did I drop? Send me the location, and you can see for yourself when I get there. A wave of panic hit me. What if something valuable had fallen out of my bag when I crashed into him? I quickly shared my location. If it’s too far, I can come pick it up myself. It’s fine. Be downstairs in fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. That was barely enough time to do anything. I leaped out of bed, grabbed my cosmetics bag, and began applying foundation at lightning speed. Halfway through blending, I stopped. I was literally just going downstairs to grab a dropped item. Why on earth was I putting on makeup? I felt a sudden rush of annoyance at myself. Seven years had passed, yet the mere mention of Hank’s name still had the power to make me lose my mind. To prove a point to myself, I washed my face entirely clean, threw on a casual oversized jacket, and went down to the lobby. Hank’s car was already parked by the curb. He was leaning against the passenger side door. He had discarded his formal suit jacket, wearing only a relaxed grey linen shirt that made him look incredibly handsome in the dim streetlights. Seeing me approach, he stood up and walked over. He opened his palm, revealing a delicate, sparkling diamond bracelet. “Is this yours?” I stared at the expensive jewelry. Did Hank have some massive misconception about my financial status? “No,” I said, scratching my head. “If you had just sent me a photo, you wouldn’t have had to drive all this way for nothing. I’m really sorry for making you waste your time.” “Take another look. Are you sure it’s not yours?” Hank frowned. “It definitely isn’t.” “That’s strange,” he muttered, looking genuinely puzzled. “I haven’t had a girlfriend in years, and there hasn’t been another woman near me today except you. If it isn’t yours, whose could it be?” How would I know? Seeing my silence, he withdrew his hand. “Since it’s not yours, I’ll let my assistant handle it.” He didn’t linger. “Go back inside and get some rest. Goodnight.” With that, he got into his car and drove away. Watching his taillights disappear into the evening traffic, I fell into a deep silence. Hank had driven all this way, late at night, just to personally check if a diamond bracelet belonged to me? I had returned a lost phone today, but compared to Hank’s meticulous integrity, I felt completely outclassed. As expected of the high school genius. He excelled at everything, even being a good Samaritan.

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1 The day my sister returned to her wealthy biological family, she knelt before our parents with tears in her eyes. She begged them to let me come with her because I was the only family she had left. The Harringtons eventually agreed to take me in as well. When we arrived at the estate, we met Matt. He was the foster son who had been raised as their own for nearly twenty years and was thoroughly spoiled. He immediately singled us out as his favorite targets. At first, Krys was exhausted by his antics. Whenever our new parents told her to go easy on Matt, she would snap back that I was her only brother. But as time passed, she stopped saying those words. Sometimes, when she looked at me, it was clear she was seeing him instead. She would say she wished I were as outgoing as Matt instead of sitting there like a quiet stone. On my birthday, she forgot again. I did not throw a tantrum and simply baked a small cake for myself. The moment I finished icing it, she took it over to Matt. She told him to take this one since the ordered cake had been ruined and he had been crying about it. I was so hurt that I remained silent for the rest of the night. Seeing my silence, her eyes flared with irritation. She asked if I was seriously giving her attitude over a stupid cake and why I did not just say I did not want to share. Matt sneered and said he had told her I was cheap and petty. He honestly did not know why she had brought this stray back with her. This time, Krys did not defend me. It hit me then that even she had started to see me as a burden. I had spent four hours baking that cake. Now, it was a mangled mess of frosting, shredded by a fork. The name “Cole,” which I had carefully spelled out with dried blueberries, was completely gouged out. It was smashed against the creamy, ruined “Happy Birthday” topper. Matt grabbed the whole mess with a paper towel and tossed it into the bin like actual garbage. His mocking voice echoed in my ears: “What is this trash? It tastes disgusting. It doesn’t even come close to what our chef, Mrs. Gable, makes!” “You’re too picky,” Krys teased him, but her eyes were brimming with affection. “If you don’t like it, throw it away. I’ll ask Mrs. Gable to make you another one.” “Deal! But the new one has to say ‘Krys will be Matt’s loyal pup forever’ in icing! Who told you to come back and steal our parents’ love, and always pick fights with me over this stray?” Krys used to despise Matt, and she used to hate nothing more than hearing someone call me a “stray.” But now, she didn’t even flinch. She just smiled, ruffled his hair, and sighed: “Fine, fine. I surrender. It’s all my fault, okay?” They wrapped themselves in a warmth that completely shut me out. It made me look like the ultimate outsider. But then again, I was. Krys was the Harringtons’ long-lost biological daughter. Even though Matt was the child swapped at birth, they had raised him in luxury, and the bond between them was deep and unbreakable. When Krys returned, they couldn’t bear to let Matt go, so they formally adopted him. From start to finish, they were a real family. I was the only spare part. When I woke up this morning and saw her social media posts of her taking Matt to the amusement park, I knew she had forgotten my birthday again. I had already stopped begging her to spend the day with me. So why couldn’t I at least keep my own cake? Tears finally spilled over, heavy drops splashing onto the floorboards. Krys frowned. Out of habit, she reached out to wipe them away, just like she used to: “What are you crying for?” But Matt laughed mockingly: “It’s just a slice of cake. Are you really that dramatic? You’ve been sulking all night! Honestly, I bet your ‘good boy’ act is just for show.” He turned to her: “Krys, you spoil him too much. That’s why he’s so high-maintenance.” Krys’s hand froze in midair, then slowly retreated. The warmth vanished from her face: “This isn’t your old apartment, Cole. You eat their food and live under their roof. It’s just a cake. Don’t make yourself look so cheap.” Seeing the sheer annoyance in her eyes, my heart went cold, piece by piece. The night Krys was recognized by the Harringtons, I hadn’t slept at all. I was thrilled for her, but terrified of being left behind. Sensing my fear, she had held me tight and whispered over and over: “I will never leave you, Cole. Wherever I go, that’s your home too.” But now, she was telling me this wasn’t my old apartment. I didn’t know when it had happened, but in her heart, I had already become nothing but baggage. “I understand,” I mumbled, nodding blindly as my voice trembled. “Krys, I think I’ll move into the school dorms.” 2 Matt rolled his eyes: “Oh, please. As if living in this mansion is some kind of torture. You don’t have the pedigree of a prince, yet you’ve got all the attitude. Stop playing the victim just to get attention.” Krys’s face darkened: “Why are you throwing a fit?” “I’m not throwing a fit,” I said quietly. “I just think staying on campus will make it easier to study.” But her furrowed brow didn’t soften: “Do you think I don’t know you? You didn’t care about boarding before, but now you suddenly want to pack up. You’re still throwing a tantrum over that cake, aren’t you?” “Fine. If you want a cake that badly, I’ll have Mrs. Gable bake you one later.” She brushed me off, turning back to Matt with a smile, gently dabbing a speck of frosting from his lip with a napkin: “Look at you. Still eating like a toddler.” “I’ll always be Mom and Dad’s baby. You got a problem with that?” “Sure, sure. You’re the baby.” I couldn’t bear to stand there a second longer. I turned and walked up the stairs in silence. After filling out the housing request form, I stared at my beautifully decorated bedroom, completely lost in thought. The expensive Marvel pillows on the bed, the rare orchids sitting on the windowsill, the mahogany bookcase loaded with brand-new novels, the soothing nightlight on the nightstand… Every single item had been handpicked by Krys when we first moved in. She had even remodeled the room to match the exact layout of our cramped old bedroom, worried I wouldn’t sleep well in a strange place. She had held my hands back then and said: “This is our home now. We used to be so poor, Cole. I couldn’t even buy you a proper bookshelf. Now that we can afford it, I want to give you the absolute best. You’ll never have to struggle again.” Oh, how happy I had been. We had moved into a magnificent house we could only dream of before. We no longer had to worry about utility bills, or the roof leaking when it rained, or waking up to a flooded floor. Krys didn’t have to work three part-time jobs anymore just to scrape together my tuition. I thought our lives were finally getting better. I never imagined that the price of all this comfort would be losing her entirely. A sudden knock broke the silence. When I opened the door, a beautifully wrapped bakery box was held up right in front of my face. Krys peeked out from behind it, her eyes soft: “Cole, happy birthday!” Seeing my red, puffy eyes, a wave of guilt washed over her expression: “I’m so sorry. I only just realized what day it was.” For a fleeting second, it felt as though the sister who used to cherish me above all else had come back. I clutched the box to my chest like a freezing traveler stumbling upon a sudden, glowing fire. I followed her into the room, my defenses crumbling. But that tiny spark of hope shattered into dust the moment I lifted the lid and saw the cake smothered in sliced mangoes. My lips trembled, and the words barely made it out: “Krys… did you forget? I’m severely allergic to mangoes.” Krys’s forehead creased instantly. For a very long time after that night, I couldn’t erase the look she gave me. It was the look of someone staring at an inconvenient nuisance. 3 Krys clicked her tongue, her tone turning sharp: “Honestly, Cole, if there’s something you can’t eat, you should tell me beforehand. This is just a waste of money.” She grabbed a fork and began picking the mango chunks off one by one, tossing them aside before sliding the mangled cake back toward me: “Matt actually asked Mrs. Gable to make this for you to apologize. He noticed how much you like orchids, so he made sure she designed it with an orchid theme. He thought you’d love it.” “His words can be harsh, but he has a good heart underneath. Just eat a little bit, or you’ll hurt his feelings.” My throat felt tight, suffocating. I didn’t even notice my fingernails digging into my palms until they drew blood: “But I’m allergic to mangoes,” I whispered again. Krys sighed impatiently: “Which is why I just picked them off. Having a tiny bite won’t kill you.” Just then, the door creaked wider, and Matt sauntered in: “Don’t tell me Cole doesn’t like the cake I had Mrs. Gable make. It takes forever just to get him to smile. Talk about high-maintenance.” Before I could speak, Krys interceded: “It’s a gift from your heart, Matt. He has to eat it, whether he likes it or not.” “Great! Now that you’ve patted him on the head, get downstairs. I hated the frosting designs Mrs. Gable made on the other cakes. You have to help me finish them!” Krys laughed, feigning annoyance: “What, am I your personal disposal bin now?” “No way! I just love my favorite sister. Is that so bad?” Krys’s shoulders stiffened for a fraction of a second, but then her face lit up: “You only call me that when you want something. I must have owed you in a past life.” She complained, but the sheer joy in her eyes was unmistakable. I realized then: she hadn’t run out of patience. She had just run out of patience for me. If it were Matt, nothing was a waste. Just a simple, sweet nickname from Matt was enough to make her day. Meanwhile, everything I did only seemed to drain her. The next morning, I packed my few belongings in silence and moved into the campus dorms. I practically lived in the library and at my jobs. I slept barely four hours a night, filling every waking second with mock exams and part-time shifts. The exhausting, frantic pace kept my mind perfectly blank. I had no time to feel the ache in my chest. Until the day Krys finally called me. The second I swiped answer, her voice exploded through the speaker: “Cole, why haven’t you come home yet?” “You used to be so responsible. Now you’re staying out all night without even checking in!” “I told you before,” I said quietly. “I moved into the dorms.” “Who gave you permission? Do you think you’re grown up now? Is this some delayed teenage rebellion? Pack your bags and get back here right now!” I stayed silent. When the silence stretched on, she let out a cold, bitter laugh: “Fine. Don’t ever come back then. Let’s see how long you can survive on your own!” For the next few weeks, my life settled into a dull, safe routine. Classes, studying, shifts. As the final college prep exams drew closer, I felt a sense of quiet closure beginning to settle over me. Then, just three days before the exams, Krys called. Her voice was raw, carrying an exhaustion I had never heard from her before: “Cole… I’m at the hospital.” “It’s been so long since you’ve been home. I just… I really need to see you.” My fingers tightened around the plastic shell of my phone. Ever since she had turned her back on me for Matt, this was the very first time she had lowered her guard and reached out to me. I thought about the early admission acceptance letter resting in my desk drawer, and the savings I had scraped together, which were enough to let me start a completely new life far away from here. I hesitated for a long time before finally whispering: “Okay.” This would likely be our very last meeting. I didn’t want to leave with unresolved regrets. I wanted to tell her that I had been accepted into a university up north. That I would never be a burden to her again, and that I was finally stepping out of her life for good. But I was naive. The moment I pushed open the hospital door, a stinging slap caught me squarely across the face. 4 A strange woman flew at me like a wild animal, her nails clawing at my face as she screamed, ripping at my hair: “You sick bastard! You hid sewing needles in my son’s pencil case! He cut his hands wide open because of you!” “The final exams are in two days! If we hadn’t caught it in time, you would have ruined his entire life!” “You’re only eighteen! How can someone your age be so utterly malicious?” “It wasn’t me!” I gasped, struggling to pry her hands off my clothes. “I don’t even know who your son is!” “Stop lying, Cole! I saw you slip those needles into his desk with my own eyes!” Matt stepped out from behind the weeping woman, pointing a finger directly at me, his face a mask of righteous anger. My expression went entirely numb: “Why would I put needles in his desk? You have no proof. How dare you accuse me of this?” “Who says there’s no proof?” The moment Krys’s voice cut through the room, the blood in my veins turned to ice. She stepped forward, holding out her phone to display a video clip. Because of the awkward angle, the footage showed me quietly approaching a student’s desk when the classroom was empty, sliding something into his organizer. It hit me then: I had been helping a teacher deliver a prize, a special fountain pen, to the top-performing student in the neighboring class. It was a pen, not needles. But my explanation was instantly drowned out by the raging parent: “Matt saw you! We have video evidence and an eyewitness, and you’re still denying it!” I turned my gaze slowly to Krys, my jaw clenched so hard it ached: “Did you see me do it too?” Krys looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. After a long, agonizing silence, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper: “Cole… you’ve always been jealous of Matt. You’ve targeted him since day one. But I never thought you’d resort to hurting an innocent classmate. I’m so disappointed in you.” I stared at her, utterly paralyzed. Those words from her mouth sealed my fate. It was a formal condemnation. “The school is going to hear about this! I will make sure everyone knows what a monster you are!” the mother shrieked, slamming the door behind her as she rushed out to find the administration. I looked at Krys, my body shaking uncontrollably: “Why?” She clenched her fists, her eyes swimming with a complicated mix of guilt and resolve: “Cole… Matt didn’t mean for this to happen. He didn’t think a stupid prank would get this out of hand.” “If Mom and Dad find out what he did, they’ll disown him. He’s always been so proud… I’ve never seen him cry like that, he was terrified.” By the end of her sentence, her voice was thick with sympathy for him. I stared at her, each word tasting like ash in my mouth: “So that phone call… the crying, the hospital… it was all a trap to get me here to take the fall for him?” Her breath caught: “I’ve already arranged a way out for you,” she whispered hoarsely. “You won’t go to jail.” The very last thread of hope inside me snapped. I didn’t even remember how I made it back to campus. I only remembered the cold, disgusted stares of my classmates, and the toxic whispers following me down the hallway: “That’s the guy who put needles in the desk. Having someone like that in our dorms is terrifying.” “He should be locked up. What a psycho.” Before I could even reach my locker, I was summoned to the principal’s office. The principal sat behind his desk, sliding a heavy folder toward me: “The victim’s family is threatening a massive lawsuit unless we take immediate action. Your early admission scholarship nomination has been revoked.” “Furthermore, the board has decided to expel you immediately.” I stood frozen, a deep, icy numbness spreading from my chest to my fingertips. I couldn’t comprehend it. I had worked so hard, bled for every grade, just to protect the tiny future I had built for myself. But ever since I had followed Krys into the Harrington mansion, my life had been nothing but a series of losses. I lost Krys. I lost my home. I lost my college spot. And now, I didn’t even have a high school diploma. I had only wanted to leave quietly. Why was even that too much to ask? A notification lit up my screen. It was an email from Krys, containing transfer documents and two airline tickets to London: “The family has deep connections with a boarding school in London. I’ve already cleared your files with their admissions team.” “It’s too late for the exams here, but with your grades, you can repeat your senior year there and easily get into a top university.” “Once the exams here are over, I’ll fly out with you.” She had known. She had anticipated every single consequence, knew exactly how ruined I would be, and still chose to destroy my life just to shield Matt. I clutched the useless papers to my chest, standing outside the school gates in the pouring rain until the security guard told me to move along. When the exams finally ended for the rest of my class, I dragged my single suitcase toward the train station, ready to board a train to a distant, unfamiliar city. Krys’s message flashed on my screen: “I’m waiting at the terminal. Where are you?” I typed out my very last reply: “I’m not going to London. We’re done.” The moment the message sent, her name began flashing frantically on my screen. I didn’t answer. I systematically blocked her number, her social media, and her email. Then I stepped onto the train, leaving everything behind. Krys, goodbye forever.

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1 I was about to cross the Atlantic with the life-saving matched targeted drug when my husband’s ex-wife suddenly rushed into the aisle. With red eyes, she flashed the international distress signal, thumb tucked inside a clenched fist, to the air marshal. My mother-in-law was clinging to life in the ICU. To seize the golden three-hour window for her surgery, I fought tooth and nail to protect the medical cooler, shoving the ex-wife into the lavatory and locking her in. I didn’t waste a single second delivering the drug to the operating room. We pulled my mother-in-law back from the brink of death. But because she was arrested for filing a false report and endangering aviation safety, my husband’s ex-wife sank into depression and took her own life in prison. On the day my mother-in-law was discharged, my husband lured me to the rooftop of the hospital and pushed me off without a shred of hesitation. “Seraphina was just too kind! She was only worried about everyone’s safety on that flight! How could you treat her like a terrorist?” I shattered onto the pavement below. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the cabin, with the air marshal’s baton drawn, closing in on me. This time, I didn’t struggle. I knelt, hands over my head, cooperating fully. “Officer, I suspect this box might be dangerous too. For everyone’s safety, please run a full bomb threat check immediately!” Whatever. Once we land, the person rotting in the ICU waiting for a surgery that will never happen isn’t my mother anyway. The air marshal pinned me against the cabin wall, my arms twisted painfully behind my back. That was the moment I knew I had actually traveled back in time. My husband, Oliver, was shielding Seraphina, his face painted with protective tenderness. “Don’t be scared, Seraphina. I’m right here. You’re safe.” Dressed in a pristine white maxi dress, Seraphina shrank behind Oliver like a startled fawn. Under the air marshal’s wary gaze, she pointed a trembling finger at the thermal cooler clutched in my arms, tears streaming down her face. “Officer, she has hazardous material! She’s trying to kill everyone on this plane! I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. I had to speak up!” The marshal’s expression hardened. He radioed for backup and snapped a plastic zip-tie around my wrists, shoving me rough against the paneling. I took a deep breath, keeping my voice deadpan. “Officer, this is a misunderstanding. I flew to Boston to collect matched targeted stem-cell drugs. This cooler contains life-saving medication for my mother-in-law in London. It’s not a bomb.” The officer stared at me, eyes filled with deep suspicion. In my past life, my mother-in-law had been genuinely kind to me, so a part of me still wanted her to survive. “Officer, she’s been placed on life support, and the hospital has issued three critical condition notices. Please inspect it quickly. If the temperature seal is compromised for too long, she won’t survive the night.” Hearing this, Oliver instantly barked at me: “Cut the crap, Gemma! The doctor literally called ten minutes ago and said Mom’s stable in the ICU! You’ve been acting like a manic wreck this entire trip, and now you’re cursing my own mother to die?” Seraphina’s eyes flickered. Seizing the moment, she adopted an expression of deep, sorrowful realization. “Did you hear that, Officer? His mother is perfectly fine, yet she’s putting on this frantic, life-or-death act! Look at how wild her eyes are. She’s definitely hiding something malicious! I can’t let any potential threat to innocent lives slip by!” Staring at the security guard’s taser, I didn’t scream, cry, or lose my mind like I did in my previous life. Instead, I calmly walked with the airport security team to the screening room to undergo a thorough inspection. Half an hour later. I presented every single prescription, purchase receipt, and international medical permit. After verifying the documents, the lead officer gave Seraphina a harsh, stern lecture on the legal consequences of making false reports and disrupting public order. Seraphina’s eyes welled with tears, but her jaw remained stubborn. “Officer, I only did it for everyone’s safety! What if there really was a threat and no one had the courage to speak up? Even if I’m misunderstood, I will always choose to protect people!” The officer rolled his eyes, a gesture completely lost on Seraphina. Before leaving, she didn’t forget to bow deeply to the exhausted security team, her voice dripping with sweet, angelic sincerity. “Thank you for keeping us safe, officers. You work so hard to fight crime. Please take good care of yourselves!” Once we stepped out of the security office, Oliver didn’t blame her at all. He pulled her into a comforting embrace and glared at me. “Gemma, what’s with the attitude? Seraphina is fragile. She only reported you because she was genuinely terrified! It’s your own fault for acting so sketchy and scaring her in the first place!” I looked at his self-righteous face and spoke in a flat tone. “Oliver, because of your ‘precautionary measures,’ our flight has already taken off without us.” 2 To catch the next available flight, we had to sprint through the massive airport terminal. I ran at the front, clutching the medical cooler. Seraphina, in her long white dress, stumbled behind, panting heavily. “Gemma… why are you running so fast… wait for me…” I stopped dead in my tracks, turning to glare at the lagging couple. “Why am I running? Because of you! We had plenty of time on the way to the airport. But you just had to spot a dead stray cat on the curb, force the driver to pull over, dig a grave, and hold a mini-funeral for it! You wasted thirty minutes!” “And then you pulled that stunt with security! If we don’t run now, we’ll miss this flight too. Do you actually want to save Oliver’s mother or not?” Hit where it hurt, Seraphina’s tears cascaded instantly. She clutched Oliver’s sleeve, looking utterly devastated. “Oliver, I’m so sorry… I just can’t stand to see animals suffer. Every life is equal, even a stray cat’s… How can Gemma be so heartless…” Oliver’s heart melted. He shielded Seraphina behind him and snapped at me with absolute irritation. “Gemma, that’s enough! The doctors said Mom is stable! What are you rushing for?” “Seraphina has the heart of a saint. She can’t stand seeing animals hurt. What did she do wrong? She’s willing to put herself on the line for others, while you’ve been acting like a bulldozer this entire trip!” I let out a cold laugh. “Oliver, the person we are flying to save is your mother.” “You think I don’t know that?!” Oliver snarled. “If she’s my mother, why are you rushing like the grim reaper is chasing us? Are you hoping she dies?!” I shut my mouth, refusing to waste another breath on this hopeless idiot, and boarded the plane. Of course, once we got on, Seraphina found another way to cause a scene. Her assigned seat was across the aisle from us, but she insisted on swapping seats with a passenger, demanding to sit right between Oliver and me. “I can’t. I’ll panic if I sit alone. I need to be next to Oliver…” The flight attendant tried to explain the seating policy, but Seraphina refused to budge, standing in the aisle with tear-filled eyes. Eventually, amid the annoyed groans of the surrounding passengers, Oliver stepped in to guilt-trip the poor passenger next to me until they finally gave up their seat. Sitting triumphantly between us, she wrapped her arm around Oliver’s, casting a smug, provocative glance my way. I didn’t even give her a second look. I slipped on my sleep mask and leaned back. Because of all these delays, the window for my mother-in-law’s surgery had shrunk to almost nothing. 3 Once the plane reached cruising altitude, we hit a pocket of turbulence. The cabin jolted violently. Beep The medical cooler in my lap let out a faint, high-pitched mechanical hum as its internal cooling system adjusted to the vibration. Hearing the beep, Seraphina, who had been secretly watching me the whole time, flinched. It was as if some loose wire in her brain had suddenly sparked. “Oh my god! No!” She threw off her blanket and leaped up like a lunatic, pointing a trembling finger at the cooler in my arms, screaming hysterically. “That’s a bomb timer, isn’t it?! That’s why you lied about his mom dying! That’s why you were acting so desperate to smuggle this box onto the plane!” “No! I won’t let you do this! Everyone, run!” She lunged at me. Her sudden shriek instantly jolted the dozing passengers awake. Seraphina pinned me down, sobbing uncontrollably as she made her dramatic accusation to the crowd. “I get it! You’re jealous because Oliver has been looking after me during this trip! You think he still loves me! You let your jealousy turn into hatred, and now you want to blow up the plane and take everyone down with you!” She wept beautifully, looking like a tragic saint willing to sacrifice herself for humanity. “But Gemma, these passengers are innocent! If you hate me, I’ll beg the captain to open the cabin door right now! I’ll jump! I’ll give my life to save everyone else, just please spare Oliver and these innocent people!” Terrified out of their wits by her theatrical performance, the passengers panicked. They scrambled away from us, screaming for the flight crew. “Jesus! A bomb?! Where is security?!” “Search her box! Don’t let her touch anything!” And Oliver, the absolute moron, was moved to tears by Seraphina’s selflessness. He threw his arms around her to protect her, staring at me in sheer disbelief. “You actually put a bomb in that box just to get back at us?! Are you insane?! Even if you hate Seraphina, how could you risk the lives of an entire flight? You are a monster!” I held onto the cooler tightly. “Are you out of your mind? You know exactly what’s in here! It’s your mother’s targeted medication! It must be kept under sterile, temperature-controlled conditions. If we break the seal and expose it to cabin air, the formula will be ruined!” “Stop lying!” Oliver bellowed. “It’s just a quick look! How could looking at it ruin the medicine? The more you hide it, the guiltier you look! Did you swap the medicine for a bomb when we weren’t looking?!” Faced with a cabin full of hostile, screaming passengers, I calmly pulled a thick folder of documents from my bag and handed it to the lead flight attendant. “These are the purchase certificates from the lab in Boston, along with the customs clearance and medical transport permits for both countries. You can verify them. Security would never have cleared a bomb.” The flight attendant carefully inspected the paperwork, letting out a massive sigh of relief. She turned to reassure the passengers. “Please calm down, everyone. This passenger’s documentation is entirely legitimate. The noise was just the standard cooling cycle of her medical equipment.” As the tension dissolved, the passengers’ fear quickly curdled into disgust. They glared at Seraphina. “What is wrong with her? Making up a whole conspiracy theory out of nowhere!” “Nearly gave me a heart attack. What a psycho.” Seraphina panicked as the crowd turned on her. She shrank into Oliver’s arms, whimpering, “Oliver, I was only trying to protect everyone. I would never let anyone harm a single soul. Not even Gemma…” Oliver turned his wrath on me. “Gemma, look what you’ve done! Are you happy now that everyone is ganging up on Seraphina?! If you had just shown the paperwork earlier, none of this would have happened!” Just as the flight attendant was about to ask Seraphina to return to her seat, Seraphina suddenly covered her ears and let out an even louder, more blood-curdling shriek. “No! I heard it again! The beep! The bomb is about to go off!!!” 4 “Help! Someone help!” Right on the heels of Seraphina’s piercing scream, a frantic cry for help erupted from a few rows back. An elderly man, who had already looked pale, had been frightened into cardiac arrest by Seraphina’s screaming. He was convulsing, clutching his chest, and collapsing into the aisle. “My dad has a heart condition! Is there a doctor?!” the man’s son sobbed in sheer terror. The cabin descended into utter chaos. The crew frantically made an emergency announcement asking for any medical professionals on board, but not a single doctor or nurse was on the flight. Seraphina looked at the dying man, then felt the murderous glares of the surrounding passengers. Her eyes darted around, and she suddenly pointed a finger at the thermal cooler in my lap, shrieking at the top of her lungs. “Gemma! Since you claim it’s not a bomb but a miracle drug, save him! Use it on the old man!” “If this medicine can save Oliver’s mother, it can save him too! A life is at stake, open the box and give it to him!” I was nearly laughing at her brainless logic. “Seraphina, this is a targeted therapy drug specifically designed for organ failure, not a magical potion! He is having an acute myocardial infarction. The pharmacology is completely different. If you inject him with targeted stem-cell therapy, you’ll kill him even faster!” But Seraphina wouldn’t back down. She dropped to her knees in the aisle, unleashing her favorite weapon: moral extortion. “You’re just selfish! You don’t want to save him, or maybe you’re just terrified of opening that box! If there isn’t a bomb inside, why are you so desperate to keep it closed?!” “You would rather watch an old man die right in front of us than lend a hand! How can you be so cruel? If it were my medicine, I would have given it up in a heartbeat!” I ignored the lunatic and turned to Oliver, my eyes colder than ice. “Oliver, do you really want me to open this box? I am warning you one last time. The moment we break this seal, the drug is completely ruined. This is your mother’s life we are talking about.” Before Oliver could speak, Seraphina leaned weakly against his shoulder, whimpering softly. “Oliver… Gemma is so cruel… Just to protect her petty pride, she’d rather watch this poor man die and use your mother’s name to threaten you…” Slap! A sharp, stinging blow struck my cheek. My head jerked to the side, my skin burning with sudden pain. Oliver retracted his hand, pointing a trembling finger at my face as he yelled. “Gemma, I’ve had enough of you! The entire trip, it’s always ‘your mother this’ and ‘your mother that’! You’ve done nothing but curse my mom! I know you don’t give a damn about her. You’re just using her condition to make things difficult for Seraphina!” He pulled Seraphina protectively against his chest, puffing his own out with self-righteous anger. “Seraphina literally quit her job and fasted to pray for my mother’s health. She even flew out to Boston with me! What did you do? You just stood there acting smug and holding this stupid box!” Seraphina shed a tear, pressing her hands together like a devout saint. “Oliver, saving a life brings good karma. It’s a blessing for your mother. If she knew we saved this man, God would surely look down on her with mercy.” “Did you hear that?!” Brainwashed to the core, Oliver roared at me. “Open the damn box and save him! If anything happens, I’ll take the blame!” I touched my swollen cheek, and a cold, dark smile spread across my face. Years ago, when my mother-in-law had forced them to divorce, she had held my hand and told me that Seraphina’s toxic martyrdom would eventually destroy their entire family. How prophetic those words were. “Fine. Remember, you asked for this.” I’m sorry, Mom, I thought. No matter how much I wanted to save you, your own son wouldn’t let me. I handed the sealed thermal cooler to the hovering flight attendant. “Miss, since the family of the patient is demanding it, please open the box in front of everyone.” Desperate to defuse the cabin panic and check for any threat, the flight attendant quickly grabbed a pair of shears. A sharp click echoed through the quiet cabin. The sterile seal of the cooler was broken. The passengers held their breath. The old man’s son leaned forward, eyes wide with desperate hope. Oliver eagerly reached out his hand, eyes fixed on the opening lid. “Quick, give me the medicine…” But his voice died in his throat. His hand froze mid-air. The entire cabin stared into the box, and a collective gasp of horror rippled through the passengers. Oliver slowly turned to me, his eyes bloodshot, and let out a wild, frenzied scream. “Gemma!!! What the hell is this?! Where is my mother’s medicine?!”

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My girlfriend’s stamina was absolutely terrifying. For the eight years we had been together, my body had been pushed to the absolute breaking point. So, when I found out her golden boy, her elusive first love, was finally returning from overseas, my eyes literally welled up with tears of sheer relief. Dawn had finally broken. My initial plan was to pack a bag and vanish into the night. But thinking back on how good Stella had been to me over these past eight years, I decided she deserved one last home-cooked meal. “Babe, what are you craving for dinner?” Her voice came through the phone speaker, crisp and icy. “Fish.” A shiver ran down my spine. “Honey, how about we switch up the menu…” Before I could even finish my sentence, the line went dead. She was a tyrant. I gritted my teeth. Fine, let’s go all out. It was my last night anyway. I refused to believe I couldn’t handle her one last time. During dinner, Stella pulled a pristine napkin from her lap. Slowly, methodically, she picked the tiny bones from her fish and lined them up on the white fabric. One bone. Two bones. She didn’t stop until she placed the seventh bone. 1 Night fell. I was gasping for air, my eyelids heavy as lead. Stella was in an even deeper state of bliss, completely boneless and melting against my chest. Her usual cold, distant demeanor had completely evaporated. The corners of her eyes and the curve of her brows held a lingering, intoxicating warmth. Looking at the stunning woman curled up in my arms, my body betrayed me and reacted again. Sensing the shift, Stella scrambled out of my embrace, her breath hitching. After a long moment of silence, she asked softly, “Noah, is something on your mind?” I mentally kicked myself. Damn it. I was so caught up in the afterglow that I completely forgot my exit strategy. Taking advantage of her rare good mood, I tested the waters. “Sweetheart, I heard Sebastian is back from Europe.” Stella furrowed her perfect brows. “What does his return have to do with you?” How could it not? That was the man she had been pining over for a decade. I tried to reason with her. “Look, babe, I know you never truly got over him. Now that he’s back, I’m willing to step aside. I want you to be happy.” “If I can’t give you the fairy tale, I’m giving you your freedom.” The more I spoke, the more worked up I got. I was practically bringing myself to tears with my own nobility. But Stella’s face turned entirely to ice. A terrifying, inexplicable chill settled in her eyes. I knew that look. It was the calm before the hurricane. I wisely shut my mouth. After what felt like an eternity, she let out a heavy sigh, turned her back to me, and pulled the covers up. “Noah, never say anything like that to me again.” Seeing her act so utterly put out made my blood boil. Who was she kidding? Everyone knew she was still hung up on Sebastian. I was literally serving her freedom on a silver platter, and she had the nerve to act annoyed. Fine. If she wouldn’t listen to reason, she couldn’t blame me for ghosting. With my mind made up, I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away from her. Exhaustion quickly took over, pulling me into a heavy, dreamless sleep. When I opened my eyes, sunlight was pouring into the bedroom. The space beside me was empty. Stella was fiercely disciplined and ruthlessly ambitious. You didn’t become the Vice President of a publicly traded tech firm just eight years out of college by sleeping in. I was her polar opposite. I took life as it came. After graduation, I floated around the tech sector. Now, pushing thirty, I was just a mid-level department manager. I dragged myself out of bed, called my boss to burn a sick day, and immediately headed out to meet a real estate agent. I had picked out a new apartment the exact day I heard Sebastian was coming back. The place was perfect. Utilities were set up, the Wi-Fi was blazing fast, the furniture was brand new, and most importantly, it was incredibly close to my office. I didn’t even try to haggle. I signed the lease right there on the kitchen counter. When the agent heard I wanted to move in today, he eagerly hooked me up with a moving crew. I didn’t own much. My work laptop, some clothes, and a few boxes of books. By noon, my side of the closet was wiped clean. Walking out of the building, I glanced back at the luxury condo we had shared for the last eight years. A bitter ache twisted in my chest. Even when Stella started making serious money, we never upgraded. To me, this place was home. But for the sake of my own survival, I had to cut the cord. The destructive power of a girl’s first true love was legendary. If I lingered even a second too long, I’d be caught in the blast radius. 2 By the time the sun set, my new place was spotless. Looking around the quiet, brightly lit living room, the tight knot in my chest finally began to loosen. Just as I was admiring my handiwork, my phone absolutely blew up. Our high school WhatsApp group, which was usually a ghost town, was blowing up with notifications. Chase, our old class president, had sparked the chaos. “Alright people! To welcome Sebastian back to the States, drinks and dinner are on me tomorrow night at eight. Private lounge at the Plaza Hotel. I want to see everyone there!” Chase was Sebastian’s ultimate wingman back in the day, so him hosting a welcome back bash was fully expected. The chat went wild. People were hyping Chase up and flooding the chat with emojis for Sebastian. Then, Sebastian himself chimed in. “Thanks for remembering me, guys. I really hope to see all of your faces tomorrow.” Immediately after, he dropped a massive digital gift card into the chat for everyone to claim. The group completely lost its mind, calling him a boss and a legend. I watched the screen in dead silence. I didn’t type a word. I didn’t click the link. Hailey, a girl who used to share a desk with Sebastian, suddenly derailed the hype train. “Why is Stella so quiet? Is she not in the group anymore? Is she coming tomorrow?” The chat went completely dead. Back in high school, Sebastian and Stella were the undisputed golden couple. He was the handsome star athlete, she was the untouchable ice queen, and they permanently locked down the top two spots in our class rankings. Even the strictest teachers looked the other way when they held hands in the hallways. Back then, Stella was the picture of a devoted girlfriend. To any other guy, she was a brick wall. But for Sebastian, she was soft, sweet, and entirely attentive. When he played basketball, she stood on the sidelines holding his water bottle. When they ate in the cafeteria, she would quietly move the best pieces of meat from her tray onto his. Every guy in our class watched them with a toxic mix of jealousy and despair. But things fell apart after graduation. Sebastian chose to attend a prestigious university in the UK. They had a massive, explosive fight about it. Stella begged him to stay. Sebastian was dead set on leaving, demanding she come with him. But Stella came from a working-class family. There was absolutely no way she could afford international tuition. They shattered completely. When college started, Stella fell into a dark, suffocating depression. As her former classmate and long-time admirer, I saw my window. She was in a new city, reeling from a brutal heartbreak, and entirely vulnerable. I didn’t hesitate. I stepped right into the void. During winter break of our freshman year, after a party and far too many drinks, the line between us blurred. I’ll freely admit I wasn’t some noble knight. I acted purely out of raw, desperate infatuation. I didn’t let myself think about the consequences. But the next morning, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes and realizing she had given me a part of herself she had never shared with Sebastian, I froze. At that exact moment, I knew I was in way over my head. I was completely hers. Once we made it official, I gave her everything I had. But Stella always kept me at an arm’s length. I understood why. I was the rebound. I was the guy who kept the loneliness at bay when she was bleeding out. I couldn’t blame her for that. I still poured my heart into her. I was young and foolish enough to believe that if I just loved her hard enough, eventually she would see my worth. So, when she asked me not to post pictures of us on Instagram, I kept my feed empty. When she told me to stay home from her corporate promotion dinners, I stayed home. For eight years, I swallowed my pride. I accepted that she was cold to the world and lukewarm to me. That was just who she was. But there were nights when I would wake up to an empty bed. I would find her standing on the balcony, her eyes lost in the city lights, carrying a melancholy that I could never touch. I knew exactly who she was looking for. 3 The buzzing of my phone yanked me back to reality. The group chat was completely off the rails now. “Stella will definitely be there. Has anyone even heard of her dating anyone since high school?” “Exactly. She’s been waiting for our boy Sebastian.” “So, Mr. Wall Street, are you planning on winning a certain someone back?” Sebastian replied with a single smiley face emoji. He said absolutely nothing, but that emoji screamed volumes. I had already made peace with walking away. But reading those messages still felt like a jagged piece of glass twisting in my gut. I let out a bitter laugh. Sebastian was clearly treating her like a prize he had already won back. My phone vibrated in my hand. It was Stella. I answered, and her clipped, professional voice filled my ear. “Noah, I’m stuck at the office. Don’t wait up for dinner. Bye.” She hadn’t even been home. She had no idea my closet was empty. Before she could hang up, I cut in. “Wait. Don’t hang up.” “Stella, have you looked at the high school group chat today?” Her tone was completely flat. “No. I don’t have time for that.” I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “Tomorrow night, they’re throwing a massive welcome home party for Sebastian. Are you going?” The silence on the other end stretched on for so long that I thought the call dropped. Finally, her voice came through, colder than liquid nitrogen. “No. Why, do you want to go?” What kind of trap was that? If she wasn’t going, was I banned from attending? Besides, how was I supposed to know if she was lying just to sneak off and see him? “Yeah, I’m going. Why wouldn’t I?” I shot back. “Besides, if we both pull a no-show, certain people might get the wrong idea. That wouldn’t be a good look.” Stella caught the hidden venom in my words. Her voice dropped an octave. “Noah, cut the passive-aggressive act. You’ve called me by my first name three times today. I don’t like it.” Click. She hung up. I scoffed at the screen. You don’t like it? Well, I don’t like a lot of things. For eight years, I called her sweetheart, baby, honey. She exclusively used my first name. The only time she ever called me her man was when we were tangled in the sheets. I gave up eight years of my life chasing a title she was never going to give me in the daylight. The fantasy was over. I was done bleeding myself dry for a lost cause. I opened the chat one last time. People were literally taking bets on what their romantic reunion was going to look like. Disgusted, I tossed my phone onto the sofa. A heavy, suffocating pain spread through my chest. Walking away was the right move, but it didn’t mean I had magically stopped loving her. I loved her desperately. But after eight years of talking to a wall, even the deepest love runs out of oxygen. Staying any longer would just be pathetic. That night, I was deep in a dreamless sleep when my phone shattered the silence. I blindly swiped to answer. Stella’s voice poured out of the speaker, so cold it could freeze whiskey. “Noah. Where the hell are you?” I jolted awake, my heart slamming against my ribs. “S-Stella. I moved out.” The words felt clumsy and guilty on my tongue, even though I had nothing to be guilty about. I could literally hear her teeth grinding together. “Give me one good reason.” Did I really need to spell it out? Your golden boy is back in town ready to sweep you off your feet. I was just clearing the stage. “I don’t need a reason. I’m just not in love with you anymore. We’re done.” Dead silence. I didn’t say another word. We just stayed on the line, listening to each other’s ragged breathing through the dark. After a long time, the edge finally left her voice, leaving something soft and broken behind. “Noah, I knew something was wrong with you these past few days. But you wouldn’t talk to me.” “We’ve been together for eight years. We might not have the paperwork, but we’re basically married. If you’re going through something, tell me. We can fix it together.” I let out a harsh, cynical laugh. Fix it? How do you fix a ghost from the past? “Save the fake sympathy, Stella. I’m not going through anything. I just don’t want you anymore. It’s over.” Before she could form a response, I pulled the phone away and ended the call. Just before the screen went black, I swore I heard a sharp, trembling sob. Nonsense. Stella crying over me? Impossible. I was just hearing things. 4 I woke up the next morning, stretched, and felt surprisingly incredible. Living alone actually had its perks. I didn’t have to worry about draining my life force just to keep Stella satisfied. I grabbed a coffee and a breakfast sandwich downstairs and started plotting out my Saturday. I had the whole day to myself, and I was absolutely going to that reunion tonight. I needed to see with my own eyes if the woman who swore she wasn’t going would miraculously show up. After breakfast, I hit an upscale barbershop for a clean, sharp fade. Looking in the mirror, I had to admit, the raw material wasn’t bad. I was just horribly packaged. Plaid shirts, faded jeans, and hiking boots. No wonder Stella treated me like a dirty secret. Honestly, I couldn’t even fully blame her. I walked straight to Nordstrom and dropped some serious cash on a tailored navy suit. I even let the sales associate talk me into some skincare products. When I looked in the dressing room mirror, I gave myself a slow nod of approval. Money really does buy confidence. At exactly six o’clock, I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the Plaza Hotel’s VIP lounge. Most of the class was already there, drinks in hand, buzzing with nostalgia. Right in the epicenter of the room stood a man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, soaking up the adoration like a sponge. “Sebastian, man, I heard you started your own private equity fund. You guys must have all the insider tech, right?” Sebastian offered a smooth, mysterious smile, playing the enigmatic billionaire perfectly. When he didn’t give up the goods, people pressed harder. “Come on, Seb. We’re family here. If you’ve got the golden ticket, you can’t keep it all to yourself.” Chase, the class president, threw an arm around Sebastian’s shoulder and laughed loudly. “Relax, guys! You know our boy isn’t like that. When he makes a move, he’ll take care of us.” The crowd visibly relaxed, practically lining up to kiss the rings of both Sebastian and Chase. Chase caught my eye from across the room and raised his whiskey glass. “Noah! You made it!” I wasn’t exactly a star player in high school, so I was surprised he remembered my name. Sebastian followed Chase’s gaze and gave me a polite, measured nod. But there was something sharp and highly amused in his eyes. I walked over and bumped fists with Chase. He was a trust-fund kid, loud and a little obnoxious, but he didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. Then I looked at Sebastian. Eight years in Europe had done him well. He was sharper, wealthier, and radiating an effortless alpha energy. Even in my new suit, I felt a little outgunned. Sebastian swirled the ice in his glass. “Noah. I remember you went to the same university as Stella.” I nodded, waiting for the hook. He asked casually, flawlessly nonchalant. “Do you guys still keep in touch?” Before I could even open my mouth, Hailey, his former desk-mate and ultimate fangirl, let out a loud scoff. “Please. Stella’s standards are way too high. Why would she keep in touch with him? I don’t think they exchanged two words our entire senior year.” A ripple of laughter echoed through the group. I just shrugged. I had already dumped her. Let them think whatever they wanted. It wasn’t like I had ever planned on using her name for street cred anyway. Chase frowned at the laughing crowd. “Shut up, guys. None of you talked to her either.” That shut the guys up real quick. It was true. Aside from Sebastian, Stella treated the male population like they were invisible. Hailey noticed Sebastian constantly checking his Rolex and glancing at the door. She bumped his shoulder playfully. “Seb, your heart is literally hovering by the entrance.” Sebastian offered a modest, handsome smile. “If you’re that anxious, just call her,” Hailey pushed. “We might not have her number, but there’s no way you don’t.” Sebastian neatly dodged the question. “Whether she comes or not is entirely up to her. I wouldn’t want to pressure her into changing her mind just because I called.” Hailey looked at him like he was a god. “You are such a gentleman.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. The guy was putting on a masterclass in manipulation. He knew exactly what he was doing. If he called her, she would drop everything and run here. Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the banquet hall slowly swung open. Stella stood in the doorway, framed by the hallway lights. She was still wearing her sleek, tailored executive blazer and skirt. The room gasped. The boys practically scrambled over each other to form a welcoming committee. I took a sip of my drink, a bitter smirk on my face. She swore she wasn’t coming, yet here she was, making the grand, dramatic entrance. Was this the only way to ensure every eye in the room was on her? But damn, a first love’s gravity was terrifying. A blind man could see exactly who she had rushed here for. Sebastian stepped through the crowd, parting them like the Red Sea. His eyes were liquid velvet. “Stella. You made it.” Stella looked like murder. Her aura was so dark and heavy it could crush coal into diamonds. She completely ignored Sebastian. Her eyes frantically scanned the room, hunting for something. Sebastian’s polite smile faltered slightly. “Stella? Are your eyes swollen? Have you not been sleeping?” Hearing that, I looked up from the shadows near the bar. He was right. Her beautiful, striking eyes were red and puffy. I scoffed internally. Was seeing Sebastian again really that overwhelming? She actually cried over him? Stella acted like Sebastian hadn’t even spoken. Her desperate gaze snapped onto me, locking on like a laser. 5 The entire room watched in absolute, breathless silence. Stella walked straight past Sebastian and stopped right in front of me. Then, the ice queen shattered. A dazzling, breathtaking smile bloomed on her face, making the entire room feel like a summer morning. She reached out her delicate hands and grabbed my collar. “Honey,” she whispered, her voice like warm honey, “that’s not how you tie a half-Windsor.” With practiced, intimate movements, she undid my messy knot and expertly retied it. I stood there holding my scotch, utterly paralyzed. Who was this woman? Eight years. Eight miserable years, and she had never once called me anything affectionate in public. And now, standing three feet away from the love of her life, she was adjusting my tie and calling me honey? Was she actively trying to get me murdered? I opened my mouth to stop the madness, but Stella was putting on the performance of a lifetime. She smoothly looped her arm through mine, pressing against my side. She looked out at the sea of shocked faces, her smile radiant.

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1 I went to a private school with my junior colleague Luke to configure their network. My bladder was bursting, so I used the first-floor restroom. On payday, instead of my twenty-five-thousand-dollar commission, I received a ten-thousand-dollar fine. Our newly appointed manager, Marcus, pointed his finger right at my nose, screaming. “Luke told me everything! You using the client’s restroom is just taking advantage of them. It completely ruins our reputation as a premium network service company!” “Using a client’s resources carries a fine of one thousand dollars a minute! You were in there for ten minutes, so that’s a ten-thousand-dollar penalty, and all your commissions are confiscated. Be grateful I’m letting you keep your job because of your seniority!” “We are in the service industry! If you can’t even hold your pee, why are you even working in the field?” These major clients were accounts I had built from the ground up over the past seven years. Every annual renewal was handled personally by me. Now, they were using them as leverage to rob me of my income. Seeing the cold glare in my eyes, Marcus slammed a document onto the desk. “Don’t like it? Then pack your bags and get out! But don’t forget, the service contracts for your accounts specifically name you as the designated technician. If you walk out, not only will we sue you for breach of contract alongside the clients, but we’ll also have you blacklisted from the entire industry!” Looking at his arrogant, sneering face, I let out a cold chuckle. I didn’t argue. But three days later, when those major service contracts were up for renewal, he was the one who panicked. “Don’t look at Marcus like that, Owen,” Luke said, poking his head out from behind Marcus. He put on a perfectly innocent face. “I only reported it because I care about the company. You were in that school restroom for ten whole minutes. The teachers outside were giving us some really weird looks. We’re there to fix their internet, not use their facilities.” I stared at the apprentice I had personally trained. Just last month, when he broke a highly expensive fiber tester in the server room, I was the one who paid out of my own pocket to cover for him. Now, to suck up to the newly appointed manager, he threw me under the bus without a second thought. Marcus crossed his arms, looking down his nose at me. “Hear that? Even the rookie has more professional awareness than you! Owen, you’ve been with this company for seven years, and this is what you’ve degenerated into? Confiscating your twenty-five-thousand-dollar commission and slapping you with a ten-thousand-dollar fine is a mercy. If it were up to me, I’d have fired you on the spot.” The office was dead silent. A dozen or so colleagues sat at their desks, ears perked, soaking in every word. I gripped the paper fine in my hand. “Marcus, the school’s facilities director explicitly told me we were welcome to use the first-floor restroom. How is that taking advantage of a client?” Marcus slammed his hand on the desk. “They were just being polite, and you took them literally? Do you have any concept of professional boundaries? You used their water, you used their paper. Is that not a resource drain? You were freeloading off our client!” The sheer absurdity of his logic made me laugh out loud. Luke quickly chimed in. “Owen, just apologize. Marcus is only trying to enforce proper discipline. We all know you’re getting older and your bladder isn’t what it used to be, but you can’t let your personal health issues ruin the company’s professional image.” A few colleagues who loved playing politics snickered behind their hands. “Seriously, using a client’s bathroom? That’s pretty trashy.” “Seniority doesn’t give you a free pass to behave like a slob.” I looked at their indifferent, mocking faces. Over the past seven years, I had pulled countless all-nighters to fix their mistakes and save their projects. Now, they were the first to throw stones. Marcus, seeing my silence, assumed I was intimidated. He raised his chin triumphantly. “Owen, since you recognize your mistake, you will write a formal apology and pin it to the company-wide chat. Also, starting today, your field transit reimbursements are canceled. That money will go toward compensating for the reputational damage you’ve caused.” Luke picked up the thermos from Marcus’s desk and handed it to him with a groveling smile. “Drink some warm water, boss. I’m sure Owen will reflect on his actions. He’s got a family to support, so he knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him.” I watched their little performance in silence. Arguing with fools was a waste of breath. I folded the fine and slipped it into my pocket. “Fine. Deduct the money. And I won’t file for travel reimbursements.” Marcus blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected the most headstrong engineer in the department to capitulate so easily. He let out a cold snort. “Smart move. Get that apology into the chat before the end of the day. A hundred-dollar penalty for every hour it’s late.” I didn’t bother replying. I turned and walked straight back to my desk. Behind me, Luke called out in a mocking, singsong voice, “Owen, if you need help writing that apology, there are plenty of templates online. Just don’t embarrass our department with bad grammar.” 2 My computer screen lit up, and the messaging icon in the bottom right corner began to blink. It was a message from Preston, the CEO of Aegis Networks, our primary competitor. “Owen, have you given any thought to my offer? If you join us, I’ll double your base salary and put you on our highest commission tier.” Looking at the message, a cold smile played on my lips. Aegis was a rapidly growing firm in the city, and they had been trying to recruit me for over a year. Out of loyalty to my current employer, I had always politely declined. “Mr. Preston, I’ll report to your office in three days.” A handshake emoji popped up instantly. “Fantastic! I’ll have HR draft your contract right away.” Locking my phone, I felt an incredible weight lift off my chest. For seven years, I had worked myself to the bone. To hit our department targets, I had lived in freezing server rooms even when I was running a high fever. But now, since Marcus wanted to play by these ridiculous rules, I would show him how well I could follow them. At three in the afternoon, Luke ran over to my desk, drenched in sweat and looking panicked. “Owen, the network at the Southside Plaza is completely down. I’ve been troubleshooting for hours and can’t figure it out. The client is losing his mind. You need to come with me right now.” I leaned back in my chair, not even bothering to look at him. “No.” Luke froze. “Owen, stop throwing a tantrum. This is a massive account, and the owner has a terrible temper. If he files a formal complaint with Marcus, we’re both screwed.” I picked up my mug, gently blowing on the steaming tea. “Marcus canceled my travel reimbursements this morning. He also made it clear that my aging bladder makes me unfit for field work. I think a demanding, high-profile task like this is best left to a capable young man like yourself.” Luke stomped his foot in frustration. “Owen! How can you be so petty? We’re a team. You can’t just leave me hanging!” I set my tea down, my eyes calm. “Go ask Marcus. If he signs a formal emergency dispatch order, I’ll leave immediately.” Luke grit his teeth and ran toward the manager’s office. Two minutes later, he trudged back, looking utterly defeated. Marcus didn’t know the first thing about network engineering; his only solution was telling Luke to figure it out himself. At exactly six, the moment the clock struck end-of-day, I saved my files, shut down my computer, and picked up my backpack. My colleagues stared at me in disbelief. Normally, I was the last one to leave the office. Luke, still pulling his hair out in front of his monitor, called out frantically, “Owen! You can’t leave! The Southside server room is still dead!” I didn’t turn around. “My shift is over. See you tomorrow.” Walking out of the office building, the evening breeze felt incredibly refreshing. At eight-thirty that night, I was sitting on my sofa, enjoying an old movie, when my phone began to buzz violently. The department group chat was blowing up with messages from Luke. “@Owen, please pick up your phone! The Southside system is totally paralyzed! The entire commercial street has no internet! The client says if we don’t fix it tonight, they’re terminating the contract and demanding a full refund!” Right after, Marcus’s name flashed on my screen. I put the phone on silent, letting it ring out three times before I finally answered. The moment I pressed accept, Marcus’s furious roar blasted through the speaker. “Owen! Get your ass down to the Southside server room right now! For every minute you’re late, I’m docking a week’s pay!” I pulled the phone slightly away from my ear. “Is there a problem, Marcus?” 3 “Don’t play dumb with me!” Marcus screamed over the line. “The client is ready to smash our equipment! Grab a cab and get down there now!” I swallowed a bite of my dinner, chewing slowly before replying. “Marcus, it is currently 8:35 PM. That falls well within my personal, off-the-clock hours. Furthermore, you personally stripped me of my field privileges this morning. Have you forgotten?” “I am your manager, and you will do as you’re told!” he shrieked. “I am ordering you to go! This is an emergency work requirement!” I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “According to Section 3, Article 5 of the employee handbook, any non-emergency overtime after hours must be approved in writing by a department head, guaranteeing time-and-a-half pay. Where is my digital approval slip?” The line went dead quiet. It took him several seconds to find his voice, his teeth practically grinding together. “Fine, Owen. You think you’re clever, don’t you? Just wait until tomorrow.” He slammed the phone down. The next morning, I clocked in right on time. The atmosphere in the office was suffocatingly tense. Luke was slumped over his desk with deep dark circles under his eyes, looking half-dead after pulling an all-nighter at Southside. Marcus stormed out of his office with a thick stack of papers, his face dark. “Everyone, conference room. Morning meeting, now!” He threw the documents onto the table with a loud slam. “Some people in this department think that just because they have seniority and a bit of technical know-how, they are above the team! Our clients lose money, and they’re snoring away at home! Starting today, we have a new policy: everyone must keep their phones active after hours. If you fail to respond to a call within ten minutes, you’ll be fined five hundred dollars!” My colleagues exchanged uneasy glances, but under his oppressive gaze, no one dared to speak up. Satisfied with the silence, Marcus cleared his throat. “Additionally, I’d like to introduce a new member of our team.” He turned to the door, and a young man with bleached yellow hair and expensive streetwear sauntered in. He cast a dismissive, arrogant glance over the room. The scowl on Marcus’s face instantly dissolved into a sycophantic grin. “This is our new Project Manager, Thomas. Thomas is young, but he has a brilliant mind and comes to us from a top-tier corporation. I expect everyone to fully cooperate with him.” Someone whispered in the back, “Thomas? Isn’t that Marcus’s nephew?” Marcus shot a lethal glare in that direction, then turned his gaze slowly to me. “Owen. Your accounts that are up for renewal, especially Apex Enterprises, are being reassigned to Thomas starting today. For the next few days, you don’t need to do any actual field work. Just shadow Thomas and teach him how to manage these high-profile clients.” I saw right through it. Apex Enterprises was a multi-million-dollar account. Signing their renewal would net a massive commission, easily reaching six figures. Marcus wanted to steal my hard work and hand the glory directly to his nephew. Thomas walked over to my desk, looking me up and down. “Let me see the renewal proposal you drafted for Apex.” I opened my laptop and pulled up the document I had prepared weeks ago. Thomas stared at the screen for less than a minute before scoffing. “What is this garbage? You honestly expect to present this outdated junk to Mr. Caldwell at the bidding conference?” 4 Luke scrambled over, eagerly placing a cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of Thomas. “You took the words right out of my mouth, Thomas. Owen’s getting older, and his thinking is completely rigid. He relies entirely on outdated methods. These days, winning clients is all about synergy, ecosystem matrices, and underlying paradigms. His proposal is practically prehistoric. If you ask me, we should approach it like this…” I watched Luke spin a web of meaningless corporate buzzwords. Stepping back, I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Since you find my proposal so lacking, Thomas, I’ll happily step back and let you take full charge of the negotiations. My old-school brain clearly can’t keep up with your modern pace. To ensure I don’t hold the company back, I’m washing my hands of the Apex project.” Thomas smirked, raising an eyebrow. “At least you know your place. Without you dragging us down, I’ll close this deal with my eyes shut.” “Thomas is a true leader,” Luke gushed. “Incredibly decisive.” For the next couple of days, I clocked in and out exactly on time. While Thomas and Luke locked themselves in the conference room trying to construct their absurd “ecosystem matrix,” the office fell into complete disarray. Finally, the last day of our current service contract arrived. I pulled out a cardboard box and began packing my personal belongings. My colleagues whispered and watched me out of the corners of their eyes. Marcus stepped out of his office, letting out a mocking sneer at the sight. “Well, well, Owen. What’s all this? Throwing a tantrum and packing your bags to gain sympathy?” He walked over, tapping his knuckles against my desk. “Let me tell you, your little guilt trips won’t work on me.” I carefully placed my small desk succulent into the box and brushed the dust off my hands. “Actually, Marcus, since our service contracts are officially up today, I’ve decided to resign. Best of luck with everything.” I picked up my box and walked out. Behind me, the glass doors slid shut, cutting off Marcus’s frantic, angry shouting. The following morning at nine, I stood in the sleek lobby of Aegis Networks, dressed in a sharp suit. Preston was waiting at the entrance alongside his entire executive team. “Welcome aboard, Director Owen,” Preston said, shaking my hand warmly. By two in the afternoon, I was sitting in the main conference room of Apex Enterprises. The air conditioning was running high, keeping the room icy cool. As the representative of Aegis Networks, I had arrived early, sitting quietly at the far, dimly lit corner of the long table, adjusting data on my tablet. When Thomas and Luke swaggered into the room with their team, they didn’t even notice me. I watched them take their seats opposite me. While sorting through his papers, Luke happened to glance across the table. The moment he saw my face, his entire body froze, and the pen in his hand slipped, clattering onto the desk. He frantically nudged Thomas. Within seconds, both of them were squirming in their seats, their faces turning a visible shade of pale. Just then, the conference room doors swung open again. Marcus strode in, finishing up a phone call and taking his place at the head of their team, ready to dominate the presentation. But as soon as he sat down, he noticed the terrified expressions on his team’s faces. Following Luke’s trembling gaze, his eyes locked onto mine. Marcus stared, not even registering the Aegis Networks nameplate sitting in front of me. His face contorted with rage. He slammed his hand onto the table, pointing a finger directly at my face in front of everyone in the room. “Owen?! Are you out of your mind?” he shrieked. “You’re a fired piece of trash! How dare you sneak into an Apex boardroom? Have you no shame? Get the hell out of here right now!”

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My brother called me the family’s most boring person—because I always cried at his pranks. When he mashed gum into my hair, I cried. When he yanked my chair, fracturing my tailbone, I cried for two months flat on my stomach. Mom and Dad brushed it off. “Boys will be boys,” they said. “Learn to take a joke. You’re cold and unloving as an older sister.” So I stopped crying. Even when he piled food onto my plate at dinner, I forced a grateful smile. But he’d mixed in a heavy spoonful of peanut butter. The second I shut my bedroom door, invisible hands crushed my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Angry red hives erupted, burning like fire. I collapsed onto my bed, phone glowing in the dark. My Safari history showed one desperate search: “Can a peanut allergy kill you?” Consciousness faded. Through the wall, my brother laughed at his video game. In the living room, Mom and Dad watched a sitcom. No one cared what I did behind my closed door. No one knew their daughter was dying. In my next life, I don’t want to be a cruel joke’s punchline. I want to be treated like a human being. Even once. 1 “Ivy, come out and eat right now!” My mother’s voice pierced through the wooden door, dripping with irritation. I did not move. It was not because I was giving her the silent treatment. I physically could not move. My body felt like it was filled with wet cement. Every single muscle burned with a terrifying heat. I could feel the skin on my face stretching. My eyes were swollen shut into tiny, useless slits. My lips were completely engorged, so thick I could neither open nor close my mouth. My throat felt like someone had shoved burning coals down it. Every attempt to pull in oxygen felt like swallowing razor blades. “Ivy, are you deaf? I said dinner is ready!” She yelled again. Louder this time. I could hear the sharp edge of anger in her tone. Her patience was already gone. “Mom, she is just throwing a fit again.” My brother Cole’s voice drifted over from the dining table. He sounded entirely relaxed, like he was talking about the weather. “I just mixed a little peanut butter into her food. I just wanted to play a prank on her.” A prank. He said it so casually. As if sneaking peanut butter into the meal of someone with a deadly allergy was exactly the same as putting salt in a sugar bowl. Just a fun little science experiment. “Cole, you know your sister is allergic. Why would you do that?” My mother’s voice carried zero actual blame. It was just a mild, helpless complaint. “I just wanted to see what happened.” Cole sounded completely justified. “The books make it sound so scary. I bet they were just exaggerating.” “Alright, enough.” My mother cut him off. “Ivy, come out and eat your dinner. Stop being so petty with your brother.” I gave no response. I was not being stubborn. My tongue had swollen to twice its size. The entire inside of my mouth was inflamed. I tried to force my jaw open, but all that came out was a pathetic, muffled whimper. Like a stray cat that had just been hit by a car. “Ivy, I am warning you. Do not test my temper today.” My mother’s voice turned harsh. “If you refuse to eat, you are going to starve. Do not expect us to bring you a plate.” Her footsteps retreated from my door. The clinking of silverware against porcelain echoed from the living room. They had started eating. The perfect family of three. Without me. I lay paralyzed on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was a faint water stain right above me, shaped vaguely like a butterfly. I had stared at that stain countless times growing up. Whenever I felt overwhelmed, I would look at it until the tears stopped. But this time, the tears leaked out of my swollen eyes and rolled down my burning cheeks. Breathing was becoming impossible. I could hear the frantic pounding of my own heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. Like someone desperately banging on a door that would never open. My phone slipped from my numb fingers and hit the carpet. I let my eyes fall shut. Whatever. Let it end. Nobody cared anyway. When my soul finally drifted out of my body, my very first thought was strangely calm. So this is what dying feels like. 2 Every ounce of pain and suffocation vanished in a split second. I floated up near the ceiling, looking down at my own body on the bed. The girl lying there had her head twisted at an unnatural angle. Her face was swollen beyond recognition. Her lips had turned a sickening shade of dark purple. Her arms were covered in a horrific rash. The phone lay discarded on the floor, the screen still brightly lit. The search engine was stuck on the very last thing I tried to read before I died. “Emergency first aid for anaphylactic shock.” I floated right through my bedroom door. I drifted through the solid wood that nobody had bothered to knock on. In the living room, my mother was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. The coffee table was covered in half eaten dishes. Roast chicken, a green bean casserole, and a bowl of mashed potatoes. There was a full plate sitting at my usual spot. My mother had not cleared it away. A fork was still resting on the edge of the plate. She had no idea I would never take another bite of food in my life. My father, David, sat beside her watching the evening news. The meteorologist on the screen was predicting heavy rain for tomorrow. “Ivy is still not coming out?” He asked casually, not even taking his eyes off the television. “Ignore her. You spoil her too much.” My mother kept her eyes glued to her screen, her thumb swiping mindlessly. “Cole just played a harmless joke on her. Is she really going to drag this out?” “Whether she is dragging it out or not, the kid is allergic. You know that.” My father’s tone was completely flat. No panic. No concern. He might as well have been saying the milk was expired. “How bad could an allergy really be? It is not like she drank rat poison.” My mother frowned in annoyance. “She is just dramatic. She has been like this since she was little. The second she does not get her way, she locks herself in her room.” “Look at Cole. He is such a bright, happy kid. But having her around forces him to walk on eggshells.” Floating nearby, I actually wanted to laugh. Cole walked on eggshells? He certainly did not look nervous when he used my toothbrush to scrub the toilet bowl. He laughed louder than anyone when he snuck to the breaker box and cut the hot water while I was showering in the dead of winter. I was the one living in that house like I was navigating a minefield. He lived like a king who could do whatever he pleased. The only difference was who our parents chose to believe. “Fine, I will go check on her.” My mother finally put her phone down and stood up from the couch. I drifted behind her as she walked to my bedroom door. She pushed it open just a crack. The room was pitch black. The curtains were drawn tight. She could barely make out a curled up silhouette on the mattress. “Ivy, are you coming out to eat or not?” I did not move. I was already dead. “Alright, stop faking it.” Her voice grew even more exasperated. “If you are not eating, I am throwing it away. Do not come crying to me that you are hungry at midnight.” She waited for three seconds. The figure on the bed gave no response. “You are absolutely infuriating.” She slammed the door shut. Her footsteps marched back down the hall. She left. She did not take two steps inside. She did not flip the light switch to look at my face. If she had, she would have seen my deep purple lips. She would have touched my hand and realized it was already turning cold. But she just stood at the threshold. Ten feet away. Tossed out a few annoyed words. And walked away. I hovered in the hallway, staring at the closed door. “Mom, is she still not coming out?” Cole chewed on a chicken wing, his mouth shining with grease. He glanced down the hall toward my room. “Who knows with her. She is just throwing a pity party.” My mother started clearing the table. She scraped the leftover chicken into the trash. She picked up my untouched plate, stared at it for a second. She hesitated briefly. Then scraped it right into the garbage too. “Is she seriously mad?” Cole’s voice held a tiny fraction of guilt. But it vanished instantly. “I literally just put a drop of peanut butter in her food. Is she really going to overreact this much?” “Overreact or not, you know she has that allergy.” My mother stacked the dirty plates and carried them to the sink. “Just do not do stuff like that again.” That was it. No punishment. No lecture. No screaming that he could have killed his sister. Just a casual “do not do that again”. Spoken with the exact same weight as telling him not to leave his dirty socks on the floor. I watched the whole exchange. My chest felt strange. A deep, hollow ache. I was already dead. I had no heartbeat. So why did it still hurt? 3 “Mom, do you think she is actually sick or something?” Cole’s voice dropped lower. “What could possibly be wrong with her?” My mother turned on the faucet. The loud rush of water drowned out her words. “Your sister has done this her whole life. The slightest inconvenience and she plays dead.” She paused to scrub a plate. “Remember when you pulled her chair out? She laid in bed for two months claiming she was hurt. And she was perfectly fine in the end, was she not?” My soul drifted into Cole’s bedroom. His dual monitors were glowing brightly. A multiplayer shooter game was paused on the screen. He was leaning back in his expensive gaming chair, a lollipop in his mouth. His phone buzzed. A text from his friend. “Yo, how is your sister?” Cole typed back quickly. “She is fine. Just playing dead for attention like always.” “Your mom didn’t chew you out?” “Nah, my mom knows she is just a drama queen.” “Nice. We will have to think of a better prank next time. Lol.” “Yeah, next time I am going to steal her final project so she fails her class.” “Lmaooo you are a menace.” I stared at the glowing chat bubbles. Something shattered deep inside my chest. It was not anger. It was something much colder than anger. It was absolute, suffocating despair. The realization that in their eyes, I was not even a human being. I was just a toy. A prop for their amusement. Something they could break without ever worrying about the consequences. Because my parents would never punish him. They would always, always take his side. I turned around and floated out of his room. I did not want to hear his laughter anymore. I did not want to know how else they planned to humiliate me. I was dead. None of this should matter to me anymore. But why did it still sting? Later that night, my mother came back to my door. This time, she knocked. “Ivy, come out and take your shower.” No response. “If you do not answer me, I am coming in.” Still no response. She pushed the door open. The room was pitch black. She reached her hand in and flicked the light switch. The bright overhead bulb flooded the room. My corpse was still lying exactly where I collapsed. My posture had not shifted an inch since the afternoon. My face was even more grotesquely swollen now. My lips were a horrifying, bruised plum color. My fingers were curled inward, stiff and rigid like claws. My mother stood in the doorway. She took one look at me and frowned deeply. “Are you seriously still putting on this act?” She did not step closer. She stood at the doorway, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Less than ten feet away. Ten feet. Her daughter was dead. Her dead child was lying ten feet away from her. She stared at me for three agonizing seconds. Then she turned around and walked away. “Ivy, I am telling you right now, if you do not get up, I am taking your phone tomorrow.” Her voice echoed down the hall. She never looked back. She never hesitated. She just walked away. I hovered right above my own bed. Looking down at my ruined body. I looked so disfigured I barely recognized myself. Mom. You did not recognize me either. But that is because you never really looked at me to begin with. Whenever you looked at me, your eyes were always filled with impatience. You always thought I was complaining, whining, faking it. You never once considered the possibility. That one day, I might actually die. Even when I was lying dead right in front of you, you refused to believe it. By ten o’clock, my father went to take his shower. My mother was back on the couch, watching a reality TV show. The television blared with canned laugh tracks. Hahaha. Hahaha. It echoed loudly through the house. Cole was back in his room, violently mashing his keyboard. He was in a voice call with his buddies. “Dude, that sniper is camping in the back!” “Revive me, revive me, I am down!” “Hahaha, we destroyed him.” Their laughter seeped through the walls. I floated in the empty hallway. Listening to the noise. It felt incredibly ironic. In this house. Every single person was smiling. And not a single one of them knew. That this family was missing a person. Forever. At eleven o’clock, my mother turned off the TV. She went to brush her teeth. As she walked past my bedroom, she paused. “Ivy, are you really…” She pushed the door open slightly. The lights were still glaringly bright. I was still lying there, frozen in the exact same position. She stood at the threshold and let out a heavy sigh. “You are impossible.” She reached out and flicked the light off. Click. The room plunged back into total darkness. My soul stood in the black void. Looking down at my own corpse. I suddenly remembered a true crime article I had read on Reddit a few weeks ago. It discussed how long it took for someone to be discovered if they died alone in their house. 4 Some people in the comments said three days. Some said a week. Some said it depended entirely on when the neighbors complained about the smell. I remembered reading that and thinking to myself. That would never happen to me. I lived with my parents and my brother. No matter how bad things got, they would definitely notice if I died, right? Now I knew the truth. They would not. They would just assume I was throwing a tantrum. Sulking, whining, acting out. Faking it. Even if I was dead. They still would not believe it. The next morning, my mother woke up to make breakfast. The sound of sizzling bacon drifted from the kitchen. The smell of food floated down the hall. It used to be my favorite smell in the world. “Ivy, get up, you are going to be late for school.” My mother yelled from the stove. No response. “Ivy!” Still nothing. “Unbelievable. Every single day it is a battle with her.” She walked out holding a plate of bacon. She glanced down the hallway. She did not walk toward my room. “Cole, go wake your sister up.” Cole walked out of his room, stretching casually. “Why should I? She will get up when she wants to.” “Just go knock on her door.” “No way.” He did not even spare a glance in my direction. My mother stood by the dining table. She looked at my empty seat. She pulled out her phone and sent me a furious text message. “Are you getting up or not? If you miss the bus, I am not driving you.” The message delivered. Silence. She sent another one. “Ivy, do not push me today.” Still silence. She slammed her phone down onto the table. “She is trying to give me a heart attack.” She grabbed her purse and her keys. And she left for work. The house fell completely, suffocatingly quiet. Leaving just me. Lying in the dark bedroom. My phone was still on the floor. The corner of the screen was cracked. Notifications began to pile up on the lock screen. Texts from my mother. A missed call from my homeroom teacher. Messages from classmates asking for homework answers. Nobody realized. That the owner of this phone. Would never reply to another message again. At ten o’clock in the morning, my homeroom teacher finally called my mother. My mother picked up. “Mrs. Astor, Ivy did not show up to homeroom today. Is everything alright?” “What? She is not at school?” “No, she never arrived.” “That stubborn girl…” My mother’s voice was laced with pure fury. “She was throwing a tantrum last night and locked herself in her room. I assumed she just walked to the bus stop on her own this morning.” “You should really go home and check on her, Mrs. Astor.” “Fine. I will handle it.” She hung up the phone. She did not rush home immediately. She told her boss she had a family issue, finished writing her morning report, and packed up slowly. It was noon by the time she finally drove home. As she unlocked the front door, she was already yelling. “Ivy, get out here right now. You have crossed the line today.” She stomped down the hallway to my door. She pushed it open. The lights were off. The curtains were still drawn tightly shut. The room was pitch black. She reached for the switch and flipped it. The lights hummed to life. I was still on the bed. Frozen in the exact same position I had been in since yesterday. Still wearing my clothes from yesterday. The swelling in my face had gone down slightly. But my lips were significantly darker now. A deep, horrifying blackish purple. “Ivy?” My mother’s voice faltered. She finally sensed something was horribly wrong. I had never skipped school to prove a point. No matter how angry I was, I never skipped class. Because I knew the punishment for skipping school would be ten times worse than whatever I was currently enduring. So I always woke up on time. I always caught the bus. No matter how sick or miserable I felt. But today, I did not get up. My mother finally stepped into the room. She walked slowly to the edge of the bed. She reached out and shoved my shoulder. “Ivy? Stop trying to scare me…” My body shifted slightly under her weight. It was stiff. Freezing cold. Like pushing a heavy boulder. My mother’s hand snatched back like she had been burned. She stared down at my face. She stared at my distorted, disfigured features. The blackened lips. The rigid, clawed fingers. Her pupils dilated violently, consuming her entire iris in sheer terror. “Ivy!!”

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