Category: English

The day I graduated college, Dad and I had a huge blow-up. Dad yelled that twenty years of expensive education had turned me into a damn fool. Why couldn’t I just come home and take over his multi-million dollar company? I shot back that he was just a stubborn old man, stuck in his ways. Who gave a crap about his stupid money? I went to ag school for a reason! I wanted to get my hands dirty, do real research out in the field, work on crop science! To stop me from “running off to play farmer,” as he put it, Dad locked the gates to our estate. Didn’t matter. That same night, I hopped the fence. Dad lost it and sent his security guys to haul me back from the train station. “Alright, smartass, you think you’re so clever?” he fumed. “Look, Pops,” I told him, “you caught me this time, but you can’t keep me locked up forever. Besides, you’re still young enough. You and Mom could always try for another kid, you know…” “Shut up!” he roared. We finally hammered out a deal. I’d intern at his company for three months. The catch? Nobody could know I was the CEO’s son. If I managed to last the three months without getting fired, he’d finally let me go chase my dream in agricultural research. Turned out, just surviving three months under the radar, especially with a General Manager who seemed determined to make my life hell, was harder than I thought. After being pushed around one too many times, I finally snapped. That’s right, buddy, the rich kid is done pretending. 1 Look, I’ve always been a little different. And no, I don’t just mean being born with a silver spoon—or maybe a whole platinum set—in my mouth. Or that my birthday gifts growing up probably totaled eight figures. Or having house staff trailing after me, calling me “Young Mr. Davis.” I think the weirdest part, the thing that really set me apart, was this: you know how some families do that thing for a baby’s first birthday, laying out objects to see what they grab? Well, forget the toy calculator or the little briefcase. Surrounded by shiny, expensive stuff, I apparently made a beeline for… a stalk of rice someone had randomly put there as a joke. Talk about destiny, right? On my 18th birthday, Dad asked me what I wanted. He was practically beaming. “Son, name it! A condo? A sportscar? Seed money for your own startup? Whatever you want, it’s yours!” I said, “Dad, can you get me some farmland? Like, really good, dark, fertile soil.” Dad just stared, speechless. So yeah, even among the trust-fund crowd, I was the odd one out. While other rich kids were racing Lamborghinis and hitting the clubs, I was out on the plot of land Dad eventually, reluctantly, leased for me, experimenting with different fertilizers, testing heirloom seeds… After my first real harvest, I proudly presented Dad with a basket of my own organically grown rice. He stared at the plump, healthy grains, then looked at me with this complicated expression. “Son,” he said, his voice heavy, “you can’t really get rich doing this…” I gave him a look. “What does everyone say they’ll do if their business goes bust?” He blinked. “Go back to farming, I guess?” “Exactly, Pops,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Your son just skipped thirty years of corporate headaches and went straight to the finish line. Isn’t that efficiency something to be proud of?” Mom had to physically restrain him from clocking me with a garden hoe that day. So, I majored in Agricultural Science in college. And after graduation, the fight that had been simmering between Dad and me for years finally boiled over. He called me an idiot blinded by rice paddies. Farming? How much money could that possibly make? I needed to get serious, come into the company, and learn the ropes! I scoffed. Who needed his “dirty money”? I had dreams! Ambition! I was going out to the country! That’s when he locked the gates and I made my escape, only to be dragged back from the train station thanks to my eight-pack abs and decent climbing skills being no match for his security team. “Fine! You’ve made your point!” he’d roared when they brought me back. “Pops, you know I’ll just keep trying,” I’d countered. “Just let me do this internship thing. Three months. If I survive without getting fired, and without anyone knowing who I am, you let me go. Deal?” He finally agreed, probably thinking I wouldn’t last a week. “Deal,” he grumbled. “But don’t come crying to me when they fire your idealistic butt.” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said. 2 My first day reporting for the internship, I actually wore a proper black suit and polished leather shoes. Dad saw me on my way out and actually grunted, something vaguely approving. “Well, look at you. Finally decided to dress like a functioning member of society.” I shot back, “Dad, everyone says I look just like you. So if I don’t usually look human…” “Shut it, smartass!” he snapped, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. When I got to the office, there was one other intern starting the same day. He was dressed sharp, looked fresh out of college too. The second he laid eyes on me, I could practically feel the competitive waves rolling off him. Instant rivalry. Relax, buddy, I thought. I’m outta here in three months. Not gunning for your spot. But I couldn’t say that, of course. The deal with Dad. The other intern, whose name turned out to be Kevin Miller, was frosty all morning. At lunchtime, though, he finally made conversation. Introduced himself, I told him my name was Alex Davis. “Davis?” Kevin squinted at me suspiciously. “Any relation to the CEO, Mr. Davis?” He’s my dad, genius. Of course we have the same last name. I just gave a noncommittal shrug. But then Kevin’s eyes dropped to my suit. His expression changed fast. “Wait a second… is that an Armani suit? Those things cost like, five grand, right? And those shoes…” He swallowed hard. “Dude, if those are real Gucci loafers, they’re easily two grand…” I frowned slightly. Honestly, these were some of my more ‘casual’ clothes. I mean, I only had one walk-in closet dedicated to suits. Dad’s watch collection alone took up an entire climate-controlled room, not even counting the really valuable stuff he kept in a bank vault. And Mom? Don’t even get me started. Her clothes, bags, and jewelry filled three whole dressing rooms… Kevin looked like his entire perception of reality was short-circuiting. The way he was staring at me was getting uncomfortable. “They’re fakes,” I said quickly, keeping my face perfectly straight. Kevin blinked. “Wh-what?” “Total knock-offs,” I insisted smoothly. “Suit, shoes, everything. Found ’em online.” “Oh… oh, right. Knock-offs…” Kevin visibly relaxed, though a hint of suspicion lingered. He asked, trying to sound casual, “So, what do your folks do?” I plucked an occupation out of thin air. “They’re rice farmers.” Kevin’s whole demeanor instantly shifted again. One second, cautious curiosity; the next, pure, unadulterated condescension. “Oh. Rice farmers… Hey, Alex,” he said, his tone suddenly bossy, “grab me a coffee while you’re up, will ya? Black, no sugar.” His attitude flipped on a dime. But hey, three months. For the dream of wading through muddy fields and developing super-rice? I could suck it up and play fetch. 3 When I got back with Kevin’s coffee, he was hunched over his keyboard, deliberately angling his body to block his screen. Fine by me. I wasn’t interested in his C-grade corporate scheming anyway. I sat back down at my own workstation. A little while later, the General Manager – a guy named Henderson – walked over to our little intern corner. “Alright you two, did you get that proposal draft done that I asked for?” I blinked. Proposal draft? What proposal draft? Beside me, Kevin practically beamed. “Yes sir, Mr. Henderson! All finished! Already sent it to your inbox!” Henderson nodded, then turned his stern gaze on me. “And yours, Davis?” “I…” “Forget it,” Henderson cut me off, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Judging by that blank look, you obviously didn’t do it. Get it to me by lunch tomorrow. This will serve as your first performance evaluation.” After Henderson walked away, Kevin put on this phony look of sympathy. “Oh, shoot, Alex, sorry man. He must have given us that assignment while you were getting my coffee. Guess I totally spaced on telling you…” When I didn’t respond, just stared straight ahead, he rolled his eyes. “Look,” he continued, dropping the act, “the standard internship here is three months, but let’s be real. You should probably start job hunting now. This is a top-tier company, great benefits, the whole package. And I am definitely getting hired. Besides,” he leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ve got an ace up my sleeve…” “What’s that?” I asked, feigning mild curiosity. Kevin puffed out his chest, looking smug. “You didn’t know? Mr. Henderson? He’s family. Like, my mom’s cousin’s kid or something.” My fingers paused as I opened a new Word document. Wow, that was… a surprisingly distant connection to be bragging about. “So? Feeling intimidated now?” Kevin sneered. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just pack up and leave!” I just shrugged. Scared? Please. If that flimsy connection was supposed to scare me, Kevin would probably have a full-blown coronary if he found out my dad was the freakin’ CEO. “Doesn’t matter,” I said evenly. “I have to stick out the full three months.” It was the deal I made with Pops. It was my only path to my real dream. Kevin saw I wasn’t budging. He gritted his teeth and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “stupid dirt farmer…” By the end of the day, I’d knocked out about half of the proposal. I stretched, figuring I’d finish the rest at home. Okay, so I didn’t have prior internship experience, but I wasn’t exactly clueless. Dad had been trying to groom me to take over the business since I could walk, practically. Shoving financial reports and contracts in my face from age three. I swear, I probably learned to read from shareholder agreements. They put me right to sleep, too. People complain about math textbooks being boring? Try reading a fifty-page merger document filled with legalese. Instant knockout. “Hey, don’t burn yourself out,” a friendly voice said. A woman from a nearby cubicle smiled at me. “Make sure you stand up and stretch once in a while.” I nodded, realizing I actually hadn’t moved from my chair in hours. Good point. I got up and headed to the restroom. The walls were pretty thin. I could hear voices chattering away in the women’s room next door. “OMG, did you see the two new interns? Both kinda cute!” “Seriously, Tina? They literally just graduated college!” “So? I only graduated two years ago! And hey, that Alex Davis guy? I got a good look. Bet you anything he’s got like, an eight-pack under that suit! The other one, Kevin? Too much of a slick pretty boy for my taste.” “Tsk, tsk. Even if he does, what makes you think he’d look twice at you? Did you see that suit he was wearing? Looked expensive. Like, designer expensive.” “No way! Seriously? You think he’s a rich kid slumming it?” “Who knows? Happens all the time, right? Rich kids doing internships ‘for the experience’?” Me, the actual rich kid slumming it, listening through the wall: “…” Great. My cover was about to be blown wide open on day one. Was female intuition always this scarily accurate? 4 Luckily for my secret identity, Kevin happened to run into the two women right outside the restroom door just then. Kevin, ever the smooth operator and Grade-A opportunist, immediately started chatting them up. I could hear the conversation drift my way, and surprise, surprise, Kevin quickly steered it toward me… “Oh, Alex? The other intern?” Kevin said, his voice carrying clearly. “Yeah, he seems alright, but…” He made a dismissive ‘tsk’ sound. “I asked him earlier. Turns out his parents are just farmers. Like, dirt poor farmers. And those fancy clothes he was wearing? Totally fake! Can you believe the nerve? Wearing knock-offs to try and impress people…” “Really?” one of the women sounded skeptical. “Cross my heart!” Kevin insisted dramatically, practically thumping his chest. “Look at my shoes – okay, maybe they only cost a couple hundred bucks, but at least they’re real. Actually, my cousin got them for me as a ‘first day’ gift. You know my cousin, right? Mr. Henderson, the GM…” And just like that, thanks to Kevin’s diligent “setting the record straight,” my cover was secure again. The office grapevine buzzed with the news: Alex Davis was just some poor farm kid trying too hard. The office snobs immediately started giving me the cold shoulder, cozying up to Kevin instead… When five o’clock rolled around, I packed up my stuff. Kevin, still glued to his workstation, called out snidely, “Wow, an intern leaving right on the dot? Not even pretending to be dedicated? Tsk, tsk. Guess that’s about your speed…” I paused at the door. “Do interns get paid overtime here?” Kevin blinked, momentarily speechless. “I don’t work for free,” I said, and walked out. Behind me, I heard the satisfying thump of something heavy being kicked – probably his metal trash can. Back home at the mansion, Dad was genuinely surprised that nobody had figured out who I was yet. “That’s weird,” he mused, stroking his chin. “I saw you leaving this morning. Figured someone at the office would recognize that suit, those shoes…” I rolled my eyes. So Pops had been trying to set me up for failure! The sneaky old fox. He never could have predicted I’d have an unwitting accomplice like Kevin working so hard to maintain my ‘poor farm boy’ disguise. “Yeah, well, Pops,” I said dryly, “not only did nobody figure it out, but thanks to your brilliant plan, I’m now being actively ostracized by half the office.” “Oh?” Dad’s eyes lit up with poorly concealed amusement. “Getting the cold shoulder, are ya? Need your old man to go down there and straighten things out for you?” “No thanks,” I said quickly. “Don’t interfere. Please.” All I had to do was survive two more months and change. Kevin was annoying as hell, but I could handle him. The next morning, I deliberately wore a different outfit. One I’d ordered on Amazon the night before – same-day delivery. When the delivery driver handed me the small, flimsy package at the massive front gates of our estate, he couldn’t help himself. He looked from the package to the sprawling mansion behind me, then back at me. “You live here,” he asked, bewildered, “and you’re buying a ten-dollar shirt?” I just nodded coolly. If Wish shipped overnight, I probably would have gone for the five-dollar ones. I arrived at the office exactly on time. Kevin, naturally, was already there, looking busy. He saw me walk in and let out a low whistle. “Wow, Davis. Really phoning it in, huh? Not even trying to look eager…” I ignored him, dropped my cheap backpack by my desk, and sat down. Kevin kept rambling, “Doesn’t matter anyway, I guess. You’ll be gone soon enough. Mr. Henderson’s my cousin, remember? All this ‘showing up’ you’re doing? Total waste of time!” Thanks to Kevin’s constant reminders, and my new, deliberately ‘humble’ wardrobe, most of my colleagues kept their distance. Why bother getting friendly with the intern who was clearly just temporary and probably going to get fired anyway?

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On my deathbed, my husband, who had supposedly been “dead for years,” strolled in with his young, beautiful mistress, just to gloat. “Sarah, thanks for paying off all my debts. Allowed me to live it up overseas all these years, you know?” My chest flared with pain. Kevin Davis coolly yanked out my oxygen tube. “Honey, legally, I’m still your husband. So, all your assets? I’ll gladly take them off your hands.” Kevin watched coldly as I took my last breath. I closed my eyes, filled with regret. When I opened them again, I was back on the day my husband faked his death. 1 “Mrs. Davis, please accept my condolences.” Dr. Miller’s voice was low, trying to comfort me. I stared blankly at the figure covered by a white sheet, my mind still foggy. I glanced up at the digital clock on the wall. Somehow, I was back fifteen years in the past! The day Kevin supposedly killed himself! In my past life, Kevin had racked up enormous gambling debts and borrowed heavily from loan sharks. To protect his reputation as a respected teacher, he left a suicide note and staged his death. But even after he “died,” the creditors didn’t stop chasing the debt. To preserve my husband’s lifelong reputation and shield our family from harassment, I took on his burden. I sold both our houses, worked three jobs a day, pinched every penny. After ten long, hard years, I finally paid off the millions he owed. But the toil destroyed my health. At only fifty, I collapsed. As I lay dying, Kevin reappeared. He’d been living comfortably abroad, dodging his debts. The first thing he did upon returning was pull my oxygen tube to inherit my estate! Now, I’m reborn. And I’m going to watch you, you deadbeat scumbag, go straight to hell! 2 My thoughts snapped back to the present. I gathered my emotions, let out a loud wail, and threw myself onto Kevin’s body. “Honey! Don’t leave me!” I sobbed, pounding on Kevin’s “corpse.” I used about ninety percent of my strength, hitting him with solid thuds. Since Kevin was faking death, he obviously couldn’t move. Dr. Miller couldn’t stand it anymore and pulled me up. “Mrs. Davis, please calm down. You can’t bring him back.” I looked at Dr. Miller’s pudgy face, a fire igniting inside me. Kevin couldn’t have faked his death without help. That accomplice had to be the attending physician who declared him dead. Last time, I was too overwhelmed with grief, letting this doctor wheel the supposed body into the morgue. My mother-in-law handled the arrangements; I never even saw Kevin cremated. I just numbly accepted he was gone. It seemed I was the only one they kept in the dark. Fine. This time, I’ll settle the score with both of you! 3 I gathered all my strength and slapped Dr. Miller hard across the face. He was stunned. I howled uncontrollably: “Why? My husband was such a good man! Why couldn’t you save him?!” Like a madwoman, I grabbed Dr. Miller’s collar and started punching and kicking him. In the chaos, I managed to land a few more solid hits on Kevin. “Mrs. Davis, Mrs. Davis, calm down! I understand how you feel, but we need to take Mr. Davis to the morgue now,” Dr. Miller stammered, rubbing his already swelling cheek. I fell silent, staring at Dr. Miller, and said coolly: “Okay. I’ll go with you.” Dr. Miller hadn’t expected this request and looked hesitant. “Mrs. Davis, according to regulations, unauthorized personnel are not allowed in the hospital morgue.” I changed tactics: “Fine, then I’ll stay here with him. Kevin always hated the cold. I can’t bear the thought of him lying in one of those cold drawers.” Dr. Miller looked troubled. My actions were clearly throwing a wrench in their plans. “Mrs. Davis, it’s hot weather now. If Mr. Davis isn’t taken to the morgue, the body will start to decompose quickly.” I replied firmly: “I don’t care.” Dr. Miller grew anxious. But no matter how he tried to persuade me, I refused to leave Kevin’s side. Sweat beaded on Dr. Miller’s forehead. My lack of cooperation was making things difficult for him. He quietly slipped out of the room and made a hushed phone call. I sat silently by the bedside. The thought of Kevin lying under that white sheet, enduring this minute by minute, almost made me laugh. Twenty minutes later, my mother-in-law, Brenda Davis, burst in like a storm. “You jinx! Are you trying to stop my son from resting in peace?” Brenda pointed a finger right at my nose and started yelling. I looked coldly at her fierce, unpleasant face. In my past life, Brenda conspired with Kevin to deceive me, happily living off my hard work. This time, I wouldn’t be so weak. 4 “A jinx? Dad died young; does that make you a jinx too?” My sharp retort left Brenda momentarily speechless. “I don’t care! You can’t stop my son from finding peace!” Brenda moved to push the gurney. I stood in front of it, staring coldly at her. “Oh, God help me! My son just died, and now my daughter-in-law is trying to drive this old woman to her grave!” Brenda plopped down on the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing accusations at me like a common thug. A crowd began to gather, but I remained calm. “This woman! She deliberately wants to keep my son from being buried properly! She wants him to be a wandering ghost, unable to move on!” Brenda got more dramatic, playing to the onlookers. She accused me of being lazy, mooching off them, and bullying her. The bystanders started giving me suspicious looks. I didn’t rush. Copying Brenda, I sat down on the floor and started wiping away tears. “Mom, oh Mom! I married into your family five years ago. I worked tirelessly, taking care of both of you. Look at your hands, so white and soft. Not like mine, dark and rough.” I cried while holding up Brenda’s hand. Facts speak louder than words. Brenda’s hands clearly hadn’t seen a day of hard work. She was plump, well-dressed, a large gold bracelet gleaming on her wrist. I, on the other hand, wore simple clothes and looked haggard. Hardly the image of a domineering, cruel daughter-in-law. Brenda was thrown off by my tactic. “You brat! What nonsense are you spouting?” Brenda pointed at me, yelling. I pretended to be terrified, covering my head and screaming: “Don’t hit me!” My sleeve slid down, revealing the crisscrossed scars on my arm. Seeing this, the crowd immediately turned on Brenda. “Looks more like you’ve been bullying your daughter-in-law, doesn’t it?” “Yeah, you look well-fed, unlike her. She’s so thin, clearly been through a lot.” “Are those bruises on her arm? Should we call the police?” The accusations and criticism rained down on Brenda. She was furious, yelling at the crowd: “Get lost! Mind your own business! This is family stuff!” Brenda stood with her hands on her hips, ready to argue with everyone. And now, it was time for my next move. 5 “Excuse me, are you Mrs. Davis?” Several people in uniforms entered the room. The room instantly fell silent. I wiped my tears and shook their hands. “Yes, I’m Sarah Davis, Kevin Davis’s wife.” “Who are they?” Brenda eyed the newcomers warily. “Oh, they’re from the organ donation center. They’re here to help Kevin fulfill his final wish,” I said casually. “What organ donation? What are you trying to do?” Brenda raised her voice, blocking the gurney. “You know, donating his corneas, heart, liver… to save other people in need!” I explained calmly. Brenda panicked. She stood protectively in front of Kevin, shouting her refusal: “His body is sacred! It came from his parents! I don’t agree!” “Mom, you can’t ignore Kevin’s wishes! He always wanted to contribute to society!” I said righteously. To prove my point, I pulled out the organ donor registration document Kevin had signed from my phone. Thanks to Kevin’s hypocritical nature, always trying to build a saintly image at work, he had actually signed up for organ donation years ago. Brenda’s face flushed red, but she still wouldn’t let anyone near Kevin. Beside her, Dr. Miller was sweating bullets. If Kevin’s fake death was exposed, he’d be the first one to go down. To make it even harder for them to back down, I had another card up my sleeve. 6 “Make way! Is the hero donating all his organs in this room?” A swarm of reporters pushed into the already crowded, small hospital room. “Who are you people?” Brenda was on the verge of tears. “Ma’am, hello, we’re reporters from the local TV station. We heard that a hero’s family wishes to donate their deceased relative’s organs, and we came to cover the story,” a reporter answered with a smile. Brenda was dumbfounded. As the grieving widow, it was naturally my place to take charge. “Everyone, my husband, Kevin Davis, was a middle school teacher. He dedicated his life to educating others and was a man of great integrity. It was my husband’s wish to donate his organs. As his wife, I certainly won’t disappoint him. I have decided to donate all of my husband Kevin’s organs!” My passionate speech earned a round of applause. Camera flashes went off nonstop. Hearing the news, Kevin’s school principal and other administrators also arrived. They wouldn’t miss an opportunity that brought positive attention to the school. The situation had reached its peak. 7 “No!” Brenda clung desperately to the gurney, refusing to let anyone touch her son. “Ma’am, your son contributing to society is a noble act!” People in the crowd tried to persuade Brenda. Seeing that he was about to be taken away for dissection, Kevin finally couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I don’t agree!” Kevin’s sudden resurrection startled many people. “What’s going on?!” The reporters, though experienced, were visibly shocked, but their cameras remained steady. “Kevin! You!” My eyes widened as I pointed at Kevin in feigned shock. Kevin looked furious, glaring daggers at me. “Why aren’t you dead?” Angry and desperate, I slapped Kevin across the face. “How dare you lie to me?” I screamed, seemingly devastated. Kevin awkwardly shielded his face, growling at the reporters: “Stop filming!” But how could reporters pass up such a bizarre story? The scene descended into chaos. A man declared dead suddenly comes back to life! It was undeniably huge news. “Kevin, you… how?” Even the school officials were too stunned to speak coherently. Kevin frowned, stammering nonsensically. As people grasped the situation, they turned on Kevin with angry shouts. “This guy faked his own death to scam his wife! What was he planning?” “His mother must have been in on it too! Poor wife, kept completely in the dark.” “I bet he was planning to run off with money! What a terrible thing to do to his wife!” Kevin wished the ground would swallow him whole. He wanted to run, but the thick crowd blocked any escape. I smiled faintly. Was it over already? Not quite. 8 “Well, well, what’s all the commotion here?” Several menacing men, arms covered in tattoos, pushed their way into the room. Seeing them, Kevin’s face instantly turned deathly pale. “Kevin, pal. You were supposed to pay the interest. What’re you doing in the hospital?” One of the large men clapped Kevin on the shoulder with a humorless grin. Kevin actually collapsed onto the gurney bed. “Who… who are you people?” I timidly stepped forward. The big guy, dangling a cigarette from his lips, said casually: “You must be Mrs. Davis, right? Your husband, Kevin, did some gambling on our turf. Long story short, he owes a bit of money. Borrowed quite a chunk from my associates too. Payment’s been overdue for a few days now.” Kevin hung his head, silent. I looked around at the gawking crowd and the filming reporters, then asked directly: “How much does my husband owe you?” The big man waved his hand dismissively: “Not much. Just over a million bucks.” “Whoa!”

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My eight-year-old son was dying of kidney failure, desperately needing money for a transplant. I was worth millions, but I wouldn’t spare a dime. Instead, I went out clubbing. When my husband, Mark, found me at the club, I was making it rain on some male dancers. He dropped to his knees, sobbing, begging me to lend him fifty thousand dollars for our son Leo’s kidney transplant. I flatly refused. My mother-in-law showed up, hysterical, shoving her phone in my face. On the screen, Leo’s face was sallow, dark, almost lifeless. He was barely conscious, mumbling, “Mommy, I don’t wanna die.” Disgusted, I snatched the phone and smashed it on the ground. “If he’s gonna die, let him die already! Why show me this? Buzzkill!” Then I jumped onto the stage, grabbed the mic, and yelled, “Tonight, everything’s on my tab! I’m buying!” … The club erupted in cheers and shouts. Under the flashing lights, I raised my glass, reveling in the chaos and glamour. The next second— My mother-in-law stormed the stage, ripped the mic from my hand, and slammed it down. BANG—! The feedback shrieked, making everyone cringe and cover their ears. Even the band stopped playing. SMACK! She slapped me hard across the face. “Olivia! Are you even human?! Leo is lying in a hospital bed, about to die!” “They found a kidney match! All we need is fifty thousand dollars! Just fifty thousand, and he can have the surgery and live! Mark even said we’d borrow it from you, pay it back! Why won’t you agree?!” “You have money to waste here, money to entertain all these strangers, but you can’t save Leo? He’s your son! Your own flesh and blood!” “His eighth birthday is just two weeks away!” She wailed, her voice thick with tears and desperation. The crowd, forgetting the ringing in their ears, fell silent, all eyes on me. Annoyed, I kicked her. “Who do you think you are? You dare ruin my fun, old hag? Touch me again, I dare you.” She crumpled to the floor, clutching her stomach. “Mom!” Mark rushed onto the stage, eyes red, and helped his mother sit up. He turned to me, his expression a mix of pain and forced patience. “Honey, Mom’s just frantic about Leo, that’s why she hit you. But how could you hit her back? She might be your mother-in-law, but she’s always treated you better than me, her own son. Have you forgotten?” I hadn’t forgotten. Even before I married Mark, his mother had fawned over me. After the wedding, she treated me like royalty, practically offering me the moon and stars. Every time Mark and I argued, she’d take my side without question, yelling at Mark to make me feel better, cooking my favorite foods to cheer me up. She often held my hand, saying she’d always wanted a daughter and was thrilled her son brought home such a perfect daughter-in-law. Seeing my expression soften slightly, my mother-in-law shifted from sitting to kneeling, wringing her rough, calloused hands as she pleaded again. “Olivia, honey, I’m begging you, please save Leo! The doctor said if he doesn’t have the surgery today… he might not make it through the night!” “After Leo was born, I didn’t want you to tire yourself out, so Mark and I raised him mostly. But you gave birth to him! Even a wild animal protects its young! How can you just watch him die?” “Before he turned five, sure, Leo was a bit naughty. But these last three years, he’s been so good! Anytime there was a treat, you were the first person he thought of. When you had that bad flu, he was so worried he barely ate for two days. He insisted on washing your feet every night… his tiny body struggling with that heavy basin of water, wobbling as he walked, but still smiling, taking care of you.” “Fifty thousand… for someone worth millions like you, even five million wouldn’t be a problem! Mom is begging you, please, save Leo!” She started banging her forehead on the stage floor, tears and snot smearing her wrinkled face. Amplified by the dropped microphone nearby, her desperate cries and the sickening thud of her head hitting the stage echoed through the silent club. The strangers who had cheered my generosity moments ago now stared at me with shock, disgust, and anger. “She looks so put together, but she’s rotten inside!” “Ugh! I don’t want drinks from someone like her! Letting her own son die while she flaunts her wealth here? Makes me sick!” “Using the money that could save her son’s life to buy us booze? What if she tries to blame us later, saying we killed her kid?” “I feel ashamed just being in the same club as this evil woman! Where’s the manager? Get her out of here!” “Yeah! Kick her out!” 2 The crowd was furious, chanting for me to be thrown out. Some started throwing snacks, even bottles, my way. Suddenly, Mark stood in front of me, shielding me. A glass bottle shattered against his head. Blood immediately started trickling down his temple. Yet, he kept me behind him, pleading with the enraged crowd. “Everyone, calm down! Please! My wife… she’s probably just in shock, overwhelmed by what’s happening to our son! That’s why she’s acting like this! Please don’t misunderstand her! Leo is waiting for his mom at the hospital.” “If Leo saw his mom hurt, the little guy would be heartbroken! Please, stop!” Maybe it was the sight of Mark’s bleeding head that scared them, or perhaps his desperate, tearful defense actually moved them. The crowd stopped throwing things. Mark let out a breath of relief and turned to look at me, his eyes full of pained affection. “Olivia, I know you’re devastated. But right now, saving our son’s life is the most important thing.” “I know you like to keep control of the finances… afraid I might betray you if I had money. That’s okay. You can transfer the money directly to the hospital’s account. Our nanny is there with Leo. As soon as you send it, I’ll have her tell the doctors to start the surgery immediately. Okay?” I slapped away the hand he reached out to me. Expressionless, I brushed a piece of thrown popcorn from my hair. “Not okay. If he dies because there’s no money, at least his suffering ends sooner, right?” “Forget fifty thousand. I won’t give a single penny.” He stared at me, dumbfounded, as if he couldn’t believe my cruelty. He stumbled back a step, almost losing his balance. Still, he clung to a sliver of hope, his voice trembling, choked with tears. “Olivia… Leo really doesn’t have any more time… You’re… you’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” “Pushing you… I only did that because I was so worried about Leo, I panicked! I didn’t mean it! Besides, you weren’t hurt, right? Once Leo has his surgery, I’ll apologize however you want. Anything. Okay?” I fell silent. If he hadn’t mentioned it, I’d almost forgotten how he’d nearly shoved me down the stairs in his rush to get Leo to the hospital. My mother-in-law started sobbing and pleading beside him again. The onlookers were moved by their desperation; some were already wiping away tears. The male dancers I’d thrown money at earlier glared at me with disgust, pulled the cash I’d given them from their pockets, and stuffed it into my mother-in-law’s hands. They helped her to her feet. “Ma’am, this is the money your daughter-in-law gave us. It’s not much, but maybe it can help.” “It’s not enough! This isn’t nearly enough!” My mother-in-law clutched the bills, stomping her foot in anguish. I shook my head, a cold smile playing on my lips. “So many kind people in the world.” “Well, there’s an idea, Mark,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Look at all these generous souls. Why don’t you try asking them? Pass the hat around. Who knows, maybe you’ll scrape together enough. Let’s just hope… the one in the hospital lasts long enough for you to manage it.” With that parting shot, I turned and strolled away. My mood was thoroughly ruined. What a drag. But seeing them so wretched and miserable… should I feel happy? Or maybe… excited? 3 Mark lunged after me, grabbing my wrist. Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang. It was the hospital. He answered immediately. The nanny’s frantic, sobbing voice came through the line. “Leo’s coding again! They rushed him back into emergency! The doctor needs to know, are you doing the surgery or not?! There’s no time left! Get back here now!” He hung up, swaying on his feet. “What’s wrong with my grandson? What happened to Leo?!” his mother shrieked. Mark ignored her, his grip tightening on my arm like a vise. He started dragging me towards the exit. “My son can’t die! Olivia, I’m sorry, but you have to come to the hospital and pay today.” I fought back, twisting and pulling, almost breaking free. Suddenly, my mother-in-law grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me viciously in Mark’s direction. They shoved me into the car and wrestled me all the way to the hospital. A crowd of gawkers and self-proclaimed “righteous” people from the club followed us, including a few young men and women holding up phones, live-streaming the whole spectacle. Mark and his mother pinned my head down, forcing me to use my face ID—or maybe they forced my thumb onto my phone—to authorize the fifty-thousand-dollar payment for the surgery. We rushed to the emergency room, only to find the nanny slumped against the wall, tears streaming down her face. “Leo… he’s gone.” Hearing the news, my mother-in-law’s eyes rolled back, and she collapsed backward in a dead faint. If one of the bystanders from the club hadn’t caught her, she would have cracked her head open on the floor, likely ending up paralyzed. What a pity. Mark’s breath hitched. He released his grip on me, ignoring even his unconscious mother, and bolted into the emergency room. Heart-wrenching sobs echoed from inside. The nanny, her eyes swollen and red, turned to me, her voice choked with tears. “Why? Why didn’t you save Leo? He was your son! He was such a good boy! He could have lived!” I rubbed my bruised wrist, my voice chillingly calm. “You wanted to save him, so you saved him. He’s dead now. Make sure the hospital refunds my money.” Honestly, even without me saying it, the money would have been refunded to my account anyway. Hospital refunds always go back to the original payment source. Ignoring the curses and hateful glares from the onlookers, I turned and walked away coldly. Seeing that I didn’t even spare a glance for my dead son, their insults grew uglier. One young woman, the live-streamer, followed me relentlessly, filming and narrating my every move. She kept saying she wanted to see if the “evil, heartless mother” would eventually break down and cry in some hidden corner. I didn’t stop her. In fact, I slowed my pace so she could keep up. I went straight to my upscale spa, the one I owned, and treated myself to a facial, scalp treatment, and full-body massage. Crying? Not a chance. Breathing in the calming aromatherapy scents, I drifted off into a comfortable, deep sleep. When I woke up, it was noon the next day. As I walked out of the VIP suite, I noticed the way the technicians looked at me. Their eyes held undisguised disgust and contempt. Calmly, I opened my phone. Just as I expected, yesterday’s events had exploded online. My spa was now trending along with my name. Countless netizens were denouncing me, showering me with vile insults. But when I saw the surge in followers and attention, I actually smiled. 4 The young woman live-streaming was still camped outside the spa entrance. Through her feed, I could see a swarm of reporters and angry people waiting to confront me. I checked my reflection, adjusted my clothes and hair. This was exactly what I wanted. Maximum publicity. Then, I would expose the truth in front of everyone and tear off their hypocritical masks myself. But just as I opened the door, before the reporters could even surge forward, a disheveled woman burst through the crowd, flanked by police officers, and pointed right at me. “It was her! That vicious woman killed my grandson, Leo! Leo didn’t just have kidney failure! She poisoned him! Arrest her! Arrest her now!” Oh. It was my mother-in-law. Hair wild, face streaked with grime and tears, I almost didn’t recognize her. “Mom! There has to be some misunderstanding!” Mark suddenly appeared, stepping between me and the advancing officers. “Leo died because Olivia didn’t pay in time, yes, but… she wouldn’t poison her own son! Our whole family treats her so well! She has no reason to do this!” Without a word, his mother slapped him hard across the face. “You love-struck fool! The autopsy report is crystal clear! Leo died from long-term ingestion of juice contaminated with heavy metals! Our whole family drinks juice every day, but only Olivia!” “Every time you personally juiced the fruit and took it to her room, that was exactly when Leo would be washing her feet! She must have put something in it and tricked Leo into drinking it! That’s why he got sick!” “You always bend over backward for her, fine! But are you still going to protect her now?!” Her accusation hung in the air. Dead silence. For the past six months, Mark and his mother had been cultivating a wholesome online image through short videos on their social media account. They weren’t hugely famous, but locally, they were known as the perfect husband and the doting mother-in-law. After a few seconds, the silence shattered. A torrent of curses rained down on me. “Oh my god! You’d get attached to a dog after that many years! This woman is pure evil!” “I’ve seen their family videos! Her husband and mother-in-law treated her like gold! The kid was so sweet too! I can’t believe she’s such a monster!” “She should be drawn and quartered! A woman like that!” “I heard she owns this spa! Let’s trash the place! Give that poor family some justice!” The enraged crowd surged forward, trying to storm the spa. The police radioed for backup, struggling desperately to maintain order. “Everyone, stay calm! Is risking yourselves for someone like her worth it? Please trust us! We will not let any criminal escape justice!” My mother-in-law, furious at Mark’s initial defense, started hitting him. “You have to divorce this woman today! And she leaves with nothing! All her assets should go to you as compensation for what she did to Leo, and to you!” “If you don’t divorce her, I’ll die right here, right now!” Ah, there it is. The real motive finally comes out. Mark turned to me, his face etched with agony. “Olivia! Even if you thought I wasn’t good enough for you, even if you found some richer guy, even if you thought Leo would hold you back… how could you kill him? He was our son!” “I didn’t want a divorce before because I couldn’t bear the thought of Leo losing his mother! But how could you do something like this?” “For years, our family practically worshipped the ground you walked on! Wasn’t that enough?!” With those few sentences, he accused me of infidelity and laid out a clear motive for murder. Amid gasps of shock, the crowd was now utterly convinced I was an irredeemable monster. Suddenly, I snorted, then burst into loud laughter. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. 5 Thinking back, ever since I met Mark, he had been incredibly good to me. Almost… subserviently so. After we got married, his attentiveness became meticulous. He always hand-washed my socks and underwear. Whatever I craved, no matter how far or how late, he’d happily fetch it for me. Every anniversary, every holiday, he’d conjure up elaborate surprises. Everyone envied me for marrying such a model husband. I used to think so too. I believed I must have accumulated lifetimes of good karma to deserve such a happy life. He played his part so well. He didn’t just fool everyone else; he almost fooled me too. A flicker of malice crossed Mark’s eyes, but he quickly masked it with a look of pained resignation. “Olivia, what you’ve done this time… it’s unforgivable.” “I’ll let you keep a small house out in the suburbs. So you’ll have somewhere to go when you get out of prison. As for everything else… just like Mom said… let’s… get a divorce.” “Divorce? Fine by me.” I stopped laughing, stood on the top step of the spa entrance, looking down at him. “But the one leaving with nothing shouldn’t be me. And the one going to jail isn’t me either. It’s you, Mark!” “You won’t get a single cent of my money! Did you and your mother think just because my parents are gone, I’d be easy prey? You truly are… a heartless, ungrateful snake!” SMACK! The crisp sound echoed as my slap sent his head snapping to the side. Ignoring the sting in my palm, feeling it wasn’t enough, I started kicking him furiously with my high-heeled foot. My mother-in-law shrieked and lunged at me, but I kicked her down too, sending her sprawling and whimpering in pain. Seeing his mother assaulted again, Mark finally dropped the act. He lunged at me with a roar, eyes blazing with fury. “Olivia, that’s ENOUGH!” Given his size and strength, my two years of self-defense classes were useless. Just as his fist was about to connect with my face, the police officers who had arrived as backup managed to tackle him and pull him off me. “Let me go! She hit my mother! I have to teach her a lesson today!” He was completely enraged, out of control. It took four officers to wrestle him to the ground and restrain him. Seeing Mark pinned down, my mother-in-law nearly choked with rage, wailing, “You’ve got the wrong person! That’s my son! The woman is the criminal! Arrest her!” The reporters and onlookers chimed in, confused and indignant. “Yeah, you’ve got the wrong guy! She hit him and his mother first! He’s the victim here!” “That woman is insane! She poisoned her own son, then attacked her husband and mother-in-law! She’s a murderer! A lunatic! Arrest her!” “What kind of police are you? Arresting the victim instead of the attacker? Does money mean you can just ignore the law?” Hearing this, the officers holding Mark hesitated. They exchanged glances with their colleagues. Instantly, two or three officers started moving towards me. “Stay back!” I pulled out a small, sharp fruit knife I’d grabbed from a spa tray and held it to my own throat. “The law is supposed to protect justice, yes! But the truth isn’t decided by whoever shouts the loudest!” I closed my eyes for a brief second. Finally. It could all end now.

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My wife’s first love got kidney disease. To save him, she gave the kidney meant for me to him. To stop me from storming the hospital, she locked me in our bedroom. She spent every day and night by his bedside, cooking for him, tending to his every need. All she left me were some crackers and a carton of expired milk. A month later, she finally opened the door. “Have you thought things through?” My face was pale as I looked at her in despair. “Without that kidney, I’m going to die.” “Don’t talk about dying. You’ve been waiting this long; the pain, the discomfort… you must be used to it by now. Do you really need to say things like that just to scare me?” “But Mark is different. He’s never been able to handle pain. Can’t you try to understand him more?” “Understand,” I nodded stiffly. As I walked out of that room, I resolutely chose to leave. But she wouldn’t let go of my hand, even after being stabbed multiple times! … I struggled to get up, wanting to leave the bedroom to find water. I hadn’t had a drop of warm water in days. When Sarah locked me in here, she only left milk that had expired months ago. I’d finished the milk long ago. With no water, I had to resort to drinking tap water from the bathroom sink. “Get back here! Did I say you could leave?” Sarah was furious, yanking me back forcefully. I was weak, my stomach aching dully. Caught off guard, I stumbled and hit the corner of the desk. “It’s not like this illness is new for you, is it? You’ve been fine all this time, haven’t you? You’ve managed this long, what difference does waiting another month or two for a kidney make? Why are you throwing a tantrum now!” My arm throbbed numbly where it hit the desk, but the sharpest pain didn’t seem to come from there. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to look at the woman I had loved deeply for so many years. My chest felt like a gaping hole had been torn open. During those days trapped in this room, I kept asking myself: Am I really that worthless? What do I even mean to Sarah? Seeing my silence, Sarah furrowed her delicate brows and finally took a hard look at me. “Ethan, are you trying to threaten me with a hunger strike?” “We’ve been together for years. You know I respond better to kindness than threats, right?” I lowered my gaze. There were so many things I didn’t know after all these years with Sarah. This was just one more. I swallowed hard, but the lump of bitterness in my throat wouldn’t go down. “Sarah, I just have one question.” “Locking me in here, sealing the windows shut early on, taking my phone… did you plan all along to give my kidney to Mark? Leaving me without food or water, did you even consider how I’d survive? Did you deliberately forget I need dialysis? Did I—” “Enough, enough! Why are you rambling on?” Sarah waved her hand impatiently, then bent down, picked up the trash can, and shoved it in my face. “What’s this? Huh? Look at this! Ethan, you ate everything, scraped it clean, and now you’re accusing me of trying to starve you?” My eyes stung. I quickly raised a thin hand and wiped furiously at my face. Then I turned and walked out of the room without looking back. “Where are you going! I’m not finished talking!” Sarah followed close behind, but she stopped dead in her tracks, just as I did. In the living room, on the massage chair I’d bought for myself… Right there, lay a man. 2 Seeing Sarah and me, he quickly paused whatever he was doing and got up. Sarah saw him and immediately pushed past me, rushing over. “Slow down! What’s the hurry? Don’t you know you just had surgery? Be careful how you move!” In an instant, Sarah seemed like a different person. Her face showed mock annoyance, but she acted like a petite woman, almost pouting playfully. “Sarah, don’t worry, I’m fine. But… I heard what you and Ethan were talking about just now.” “Ethan, Sarah did this behind my back. When I found out, I felt terrible. I didn’t realize she’d done so much for me. I feel really bad, really guilty. How about this? Let me kneel down for you. Thank you for your incredible generosity!” Though Mark was recovering from major surgery, his face was flushed with health. The health I longed for… He claimed ignorance with every word. My face deathly pale, I stared intently at him. Just as I was about to speak, another voice cut in faster. “Mark! What’s this about kneeling? Why would you kneel to him!” “Ethan’s been sick for so long, he’s used to it. Don’t blame yourself. You need to rest now. Lie down for a bit. Later, I’ll go buy a nice chicken and make you some soup to build up your strength.” “Sarah, you’ve already done so much for me. This past month, you’ve taken care of everything. Even my own mother admits she couldn’t have done better. You even got me that expensive VIP room, spending every day in that little kitchenette figuring out different healthy meals for me. I really don’t know how to thank you!” Mark, getting emotional, took a few steps forward and grabbed my hand. “Ethan, I really envy you having such a wonderful wife. Sarah’s a good woman. You can’t keep being stubborn and upsetting her like you used to.” Bitterness flooded my heart. I pulled my hand away from his grasp. Was I upsetting Sarah? When my condition worsened, when I was most vulnerable and needed her company the most, she was tirelessly by Mark’s side, barely sleeping. All because Mark had just been diagnosed, and he was worried, scared, afraid of pain. And the kidney I had waited so long for? Sarah had forcibly tricked the system to transfer it to Mark. Every word Mark spoke felt like a knife deliberately twisted in my chest. And Sarah was the one handing him the knife. I managed a bleak smile. “Is that so? If she’s so great, then she’s all yours.” I turned and walked towards the door. This house was suffocating me. If I stayed any longer, I wouldn’t survive. But even in this state, Sarah wouldn’t let me go. The moment my fingers touched the doorknob. Sarah’s voice came from behind. “Ethan, are you crazy! What nonsense are you talking! Is your mind that filthy? You see dirt in everything?” “Mark and I are just purely friends!” A sarcastic sneer spread across my pale face. “Boyfriend, you mean?” SLAP! My head snapped to the side. I slowly lowered my eyes. Sarah stared at her hand in disbelief, then looked at me frantically. “I… Ethan, I didn’t mean to. I was just so angry! Yes! You were talking nonsense, that’s why I hit you!” I blinked slowly. I wanted to hit back, but the ringing in my ears grew louder and louder. I desperately reached out, trying to grab onto something, but caught only air. Just as I started to fall towards Sarah… I watched, wide-eyed, as Mark urgently pulled her away. “Sarah, watch out!” 3 When I woke up again, I had a nasal cannula in my nostrils and clips on my fingers. The steady beeping of machines filled the air. Sarah wasn’t in the room. I removed the wires attached to me and slowly shuffled out of the hospital room. As soon as I opened the door, I heard voices from the nearby stairwell. It was Sarah’s voice. The stairwell was dim. Mark held Sarah tightly in his arms. “Sarah, that really scared me back there. I thought he was going to hit you! If he had dared to lay a hand on you, I don’t care if he gave me this kidney, I would’ve punched him!” Sarah blushed, gently pushing him. “Why would he hit me? You’re overthinking it, Mark. Besides, you were there, weren’t you?” “Sarah, I really regret it. If I hadn’t left back then, if I had stayed here, would things be different? We wouldn’t have missed all these years.” I let out a short, bitter laugh as I watched Mark lean down to kiss Sarah, silencing whatever she was about to say. “Are you the patient from Bed 13? What are you doing standing here!” A sudden voice from behind startled the woman in the stairwell. Sarah hurriedly pushed open the stairwell door, not even wiping the tears from her face. She frowned at me. “Ethan, why are you up?” I gave Sarah a long look, then shifted my gaze to Mark, who now wore a smug expression. Without Sarah watching, he didn’t even bother pretending anymore. “Are you asking him? How are you monitoring your patient? He took off his ECG leads and wandered off, and you didn’t even know! The doctor’s been calling for you, where were you?” The nurse scolded Sarah sharply. Sarah swallowed but said nothing. I turned and went back to my room. Sarah followed close behind. Since Sarah didn’t show up, the doctor came to my room personally. “Ethan, you’re severely ill. Why did you wait so long to come to the hospital?” I pressed my lips together, unsure how to answer. Sarah spoke up, sounding genuinely surprised. “Isn’t he always like this? He’s been on dialysis for years. Even in the hospital, it’s just IV drips and anti-inflammatories. Isn’t it the same as taking meds at home and getting infusions at a local clinic?” I looked at Sarah, my face expressionless. All those years, afraid of worrying her, I’d always rush home early. Going back and forth to the hospital was inconvenient, and I didn’t want her to worry. Plus, she had just started a new job and couldn’t easily take time off. So, I went to a small clinic near our house for my infusions. If I finished early, I could go to the supermarket next door and buy groceries to cook her favorite dishes. After all these years of marriage, I never knew Sarah could even make chicken soup. A sourness stung my nose. The hole in my chest felt like it had been gouged wider. “The same? How could it be the same! Didn’t we explain the test results to you, the family member? His condition is very serious now. His body’s metabolism is severely compromised. How can a grown man like him be malnourished? Aren’t you feeding him at home?” The doctor pointedly scolded Sarah, whose face flushed red and pale by turns. Of course, she wouldn’t dare tell anyone what she had done to me. And even if I could speak up, it wouldn’t bring back the kidney that should have been mine. I lay weakly on the hospital bed. Sarah stood beside me, frowning, flipping through my test reports page after page. It hit me then. Before this moment, she had never actually looked at them closely, nor had she ever really listened to what the doctors said. 4 Memories stretched back. From when I first got sick, Sarah was always impatient. She refused to accept the reality, didn’t want to hear me talk about it. Back then, I thought she was just scared of losing me, afraid of being left alone in the house. So, I listened to the doctor’s advice alone. I went for check-ups alone. I bought medication alone. I got infusions alone. All the worry and fear, I digested it all by myself. I didn’t dare tell her, afraid she’d be sad, upset, afraid she’d lie awake all night worrying, just like me. But then later… Later, when Sarah found out her first love, Mark, had a similar illness, she locked herself in her room and cried for a whole day and night, refusing to eat or drink. The irony was, at that time, I thought she was worried because my own condition had worsened. I stood outside her door, trying to comfort her for ages. She wouldn’t open it. She sat crying on the floor inside, so I sat on the floor outside, leaning against the door, telling her joke after joke to cheer her up. Separated by just a door, I thought that even if fate hadn’t given me a healthy body, it had given me the most important person, my love, and that wasn’t so bad. But I never imagined that even this small hope was false. When the doctor told me they’d found a suitable kidney match, that I could have surgery soon, that I wouldn’t have to run between home and the hospital anymore, that I could live like a normal person, take her traveling to all the places she wanted to go – I had even planned routes on my phone. I never expected what awaited me was Sarah locking me in the room, decisively and ruthlessly giving away the kidney I had waited so long and hard for to someone else! “How could it be this serious?” Sarah lifted her fair face, looking at me in disbelief. “Sarah, let me see those.” Mark stepped forward and snatched all the test reports from her. “Is there anything else? If not, please leave. I need to rest.” I sat up straighter. Sarah’s eyes widened. “What are you doing? Mark means well! Look at your nasty temper, snapping at everyone!” Right in front of me, Mark reached out and took Sarah’s arm. “Sarah, calm down. I’ve been through this, I understand. These doctors love to exaggerate. They just want patients like me and Ethan to worry and panic, so we’ll agree quickly to all the drugs and tests they suggest.” “It’s probably not that big a deal; they just make it sound terrifying.” “Doctors in public hospitals aren’t always the best. We should find a real specialist. My cousin is actually an expert in this field. I can send him Ethan’s medical records for a look.” “Okay, thank you for the trouble, Mark.” Sarah went with Mark to find the doctor and get copies of my records printed. Lying in bed, a wave of intense pain washed over me. My pale face instantly beaded with sweat. My body trembled as I tried to sit up and press the call bell. But every movement intensified the pain! I was right here in the hospital, yet I couldn’t move. Just as despair filled my eyes, the door opened again. I looked towards Sarah, full of hope. “It hurts so bad, quick… call the doctor—” Suddenly, the stack of test reports slammed hard against my face. “Enough! How long are you going to keep pretending!”

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My mother-in-law made my life hell during my postpartum recovery. Even when I jumped off the roof, she showed no remorse. Given a second chance at life, I decided I wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. I was determined to teach that mother and son a lesson. 1 “You couldn’t even give me a grandson, so what’s wrong with me finding someone else?” I stood on the rooftop, holding my three-month-old daughter. The wind howled, carrying my mother-in-law’s voice even further. She’d always been materialistic, blatantly favoring boys over girls, incredibly two-faced – saying one thing to your face and another behind your back. Before the wedding, she showered me with sweet talk, making me dizzy with promises, convincing me to ignore my parents’ objections and marry Jake. After the wedding, the mask came off, revealing a monster. My husband, Jake, wasn’t the sharp, capable man he’d pretended to be. Quite the opposite – lazy and a total mama’s boy. After our daughter was born, he barely visited, letting his mother “take care” of me during my recovery. When I finally got out of that postpartum haze and went looking for him, I found out he’d secretly bought a house, and there was a pregnant woman living in it. The postpartum period is rough enough, prone to physical and emotional issues. The constant gloom plunged me into postpartum depression. So, after that series of blows, I ended up on the rooftop. I looked at my daughter in my arms and managed a weak smile. Behind me, my mother-in-law was already starting her usual drama queen routine. Spouting nonsense like, “Our family needs an heir! How dare a woman who can’t even produce a son think about ending her life!” I tuned her out like background noise. Gently, I stroked my daughter’s soft cheek. Sweet baby girl, maybe in the next life, if we’re lucky, you can be Mommy’s daughter again. As I jumped, I turned and saw my parents’ faces. Suddenly, it hit me – I’d lived such a pathetic life, letting everyone down. If there was a next life… If I could just start over… 2 “Honey, I need some cash right now. Mom says Mr. Johnson’s factory is having cash flow problems. If we invest, we can get a stake in the business!” Jake’s excited voice buzzed in my ear. My mother-in-law sat beside him, egging him on. “Ashley, you’re pretty far along now, almost due. Keep enough for the hospital bills, but give the rest to Jake for his business venture!” My head felt foggy as I looked at the familiar scene, instinctively touching my belly. At this point, I was seven months pregnant. Right on schedule for Jake asking for money for his “business.” Just like last time. Last time, seeing Jake so ambitious, I took $25,000 out of the $30,000 my parents gave me as a wedding gift and handed it over, fully supporting his “career.” During that period, my mother-in-law and Jake were sickeningly sweet to me, showering me with attention. It was almost overwhelming. That was the best treatment I got after they found out I was carrying a girl. But did that money really go into a business? Nope. His mother had introduced Jake to another girl. That pair, mother and son, conned $25,000 out of me to make a down payment on a house for her. I let out a cold snort, looking at the fawning duo with a half-smile. “Mom, I can give you the money, but when are Jake and I actually going to get our marriage license?” Her eyes darted around nervously, looking from Jake to me. Jake didn’t dare speak either. I leaned back on the couch, flashing the same sweet smile I used to, and asked again. She slapped her thigh abruptly, annoyance flashing across her face. “Obviously, after you’ve given our family an heir, a son! Then we’ll get the license!” I agreed softly, “Okay, I’ll transfer the money to your account tomorrow.” Hearing this, Jake and his mother couldn’t hide their excitement. Sitting across from them, I smirked inwardly. A marriage license? Jake had already married that other woman. How could he possibly marry me? This time, I’ll make sure this mother and son get exactly what they deserve. 3 The next morning, my mother-in-law knocked on my bedroom door early. Her voice was syrupy sweet, “Ashley, breakfast is ready!” I fumbled for my phone on the big bed. 7 AM. She really couldn’t wait. I mumbled an acknowledgment, slowly put on my robe, and went into the en-suite bathroom to wash up. After dawdling for half an hour, ignoring her constant calls, I finally emerged. The moment I stepped out, the door to the adjacent room opened too. Jake, hair sticking up like a bird’s nest, groggily started venting his morning grumpiness, “Mom, what’s all the racket this early? Can’t a guy get some sleep!” His mother shrieked, “Why were you sleeping in that room? Ashley, how could you let Jake sleep in that dumpy room!” I ignored her and walked straight to the dining table. Gotta hand it to her, she really pulled out all the stops for my money. There must have been eighteen different breakfast dishes. I picked up a fried egg, put it on my plate, and took a careful sip of the slightly too-hot oatmeal. Seeing me ignore her, she grabbed Jake and stood beside me, snatching the bowl out of my hand. “Ashley, I’m talking to you! That little room has nothing in it but a crappy old mattress! How could you make Jake sleep there!” “Jake snores so loudly at night, I can’t sleep. If he doesn’t stay there, should he sleep with you instead?” Just looking at Jake made me sick now; sharing a room was out of the question. Last night, when he tried to get into bed, I kicked him out and sent him to the unfinished guest room. Jake initially refused, but I just stared at him coldly and asked flatly, “Do you still want that twenty-five thousand or not?” His face turned pale, and he obediently grabbed his pillow and shuffled off to the next room. My mother-in-law wouldn’t let it go. “Why are you so delicate? Back in my day, women worked in the fields while pregnant! How can a little snoring bother you?” “Aren’t you afraid your man will run off to another woman’s bed!” I glanced at her, a cryptic smile playing on my lips. Isn’t Jake already in another woman’s bed? But I couldn’t expose them yet. Not the right time. I decided to mimic her shrewish behavior, only worse. With one sweep of my arm, I sent the lavish breakfast crashing to the floor. Porcelain plates and bowls shattered, the clattering sound like music to my ears. My mother-in-law and Jake froze, stunned. Jake reacted first, rolling up his sleeves and storming towards me menacingly. “Ashley, how dare you throw a tantrum at my mom?” I raised an eyebrow, unfazed, and used my trump card again. “What? You gonna hit me? I guess you don’t want that twenty-five thousand after all!” Jake froze mid-stride. His mother forced a strained smile onto her ugly face. I knew it. This pair only bullied me because they thought I was weak. Try to bully me now? Not a chance. 4 The money had to be given, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for them. Yesterday I told them I’d go to the bank today. But after this morning’s scene, did they really expect me to just trot off to the bank? No way. I nonchalantly dropped the line, “I’m not in a good mood. I’m going back to my parents’ place for a bit. We can go to the bank another day.” Without waiting to see their reactions, I steadied myself with my hand on my belly and slowly went back to my room to pack. Behind me, my mother-in-law put on a show of scolding Jake, her voice loud enough for me to hear clearly. “Jake! You ungrateful son! How could you almost raise a hand to Ashley! She’s carrying your child! Are you trying to kill your mother with anger!” Jake mumbled apologies to his mom. Quite the actors, really treating me like an idiot. And Jake – he wanted to hit me, why was he apologizing to his mom? I rolled my eyes behind their backs, muttered “Hypocrites,” and slammed my bedroom door shut with a bang. The voices outside quieted, but I could still faintly hear them. “Son, are you stupid? Wait until we get the money, then you can hit her all you want! If you scare her off now and she doesn’t give us the money, what about… over there?” Disgusting. Looked decent enough, but couldn’t speak or act like a human being. Planning to hit me once the money was secured? I won’t give you the chance. I knew who “over there” was – that other woman. She was pressuring Jake to buy the house. But what did that have to do with me? Let Jake deal with his own headache. Since Jake had shown he might get violent, I definitely couldn’t stay under the same roof. If he actually hit me, I’d have no one to turn to. I packed my clothes and dug out the property deed from the closet. I opened it and planted a big kiss on the page showing only my name. Jake came from a rural background, clawing his way up through college. I was a city girl, raised comfortably. My family was well-off, and I’d met plenty of rich kids. But Jake presented himself as hardworking, down-to-earth, and kind, with a decent face – different from anyone I knew. We fell in love quickly in college, and after graduation, I married him despite my parents’ strong objections. My parents were furious at my stubbornness, practically wanting to crack my head open to see what was inside. But in the end, they relented and agreed to the marriage. I remembered my dad, wiping away tears in anger, shoving this deed and a bank card at me. “This is the house I bought for you, and the money in this card is your dowry. Don’t bother coming back to see your mother and me. We’ll pretend we never had a daughter.” I didn’t say anything then, just took Jake’s arm and left. I even complained that the 1500-square-foot house was too small. But now, I was incredibly grateful. Thank goodness I hadn’t impulsively added Jake’s name to the deed, otherwise, I’d have no way to kick this mother-son duo out later. I packed all my valuables into my suitcase and walked out under their watchful eyes, head held high. 5 Instead of going straight to my parents’ house, I went to the hospital first. Last time, my daughter was premature, which made her frail. I needed to check on the baby’s condition this time around. “Your baby is positioned very low. You should be on bed rest during the third trimester.” I clutched the check-up report, the doctor’s words echoing in my ears. I was already seven months pregnant. In these seven months, I’d only had two proper prenatal checks, both at small clinics. One was to determine the baby’s sex, the other because of sudden abdominal pain. I wanted to go to the main city hospital, but my mother-in-law always said it was unnecessary. “As long as the baby’s healthy, why waste the money?” After the first check revealed it was a girl, my mother-in-law threw the ultrasound report at my head right then and there, yelling, “Useless! A good-for-nothing can only produce another good-for-nothing! Our family line is going to end with you!” The second time was the sudden pain. I was so panicked I didn’t notice my mother-in-law’s reaction, just kept urging Jake to get me to the hospital. Thinking back now, her expression was clearly one of suppressed excitement and joy! I never even got a glimpse of the test results from that visit; Jake and his mother hid them completely. Jake even offered fake comfort, saying, “It’s nothing, you just got too emotional, there was a risk of miscarriage.” At the time, I wondered how that could be. I’d been trying hard to stay calm and avoid getting angry. How could “being too emotional” cause a threatened miscarriage? Thinking of this, I looked down at the report in my hand again, gripping it so tightly my knuckles turned white. I remembered my mother-in-law constantly nagging me, “Ashley, you have to walk around a lot before giving birth, that way you won’t have a difficult labor.” She repeated this almost daily. Luckily, back then I was genuinely scared of miscarrying, so I stayed put on bed rest for a while, which saved the baby. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. If I hadn’t come to the hospital today, wouldn’t my baby have suffered the same fate as last time? I clenched my teeth and cursed under my breath, “That old witch, always plotting how to harm me, never doing anything decent!” But right now, none of that mattered. The only thing in my head was “bed rest, protect the baby.” I ignored Jake’s incessant calls, carefully cradling my belly as I walked to the hospital entrance and hailed a cab. 6 This was the first time I’d been home in the three years since I married Jake. The furniture in the house hadn’t changed; it still felt familiar and warm. When I walked in, my parents were snuggled on the sofa watching TV. From the doorway, I could see their graying hair. They looked much older than three years ago. My nose stung, and I couldn’t even manage to call out “Mom, Dad.” For them, it was seeing the daughter they’d essentially cut ties with for three years. For me, it was the unspeakable regret spanning two lifetimes, separated by death. I stood in the doorway, pregnant, pulling my suitcase, momentarily speechless. My mom spotted me first. She froze, then nudged my dad urgently, “She’s home! Look, Ashley’s home!” My dad didn’t turn around immediately. As I stepped further inside, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I threw myself into my mom’s arms and sobbed uncontrollably. Mom held me tight, crying with me, gently patting my back. “You stubborn girl! Said you wouldn’t come back and really meant it! Did you think Mom and Dad would actually disown you?” I buried my head in her shoulder, shaking my head. My dad sighed heavily beside us. “You got hurt, didn’t you? Told you not to marry him! You wouldn’t listen. Would your parents ever steer you wrong?” I looked up at him. His aged eyes were filled with tears, a deep, undeniable pain in them. My parents’ faces merged with the last image I saw before I jumped in my previous life. Wiping my tears, I forced a smile. “Dad, you were right. Jake is no good. But I’ll make sure he pays for what he did!” My parents didn’t ask what exactly happened. But a married daughter, heavily pregnant, showing up at her parents’ doorstep looking disheveled and pulling a suitcase – it was obvious she’d been through hell. My dad nodded, patting my shoulder. “It’s okay if you took a wrong turn for a while. The important thing is to turn back.”

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I met Ethan through a blind date set up by friends. We dated for a few months and then had a whirlwind wedding. This year marked our first Christmas together as a married couple. Before getting married, we agreed to alternate holidays with our families. This year was supposed to be with my parents, next year with his. After we hit the highway, Ethan was driving and told me to get some rest. Next thing I knew, I opened my eyes, and the car had turned around and was heading onto a completely different freeway. … Waking up in the car, I saw a sign ahead. 【Rockbridge: 50 miles】 Rockbridge? That wasn’t anywhere near my parents’ place. I snapped awake instantly and turned to Ethan in the driver’s seat. “Where are we going?” He looked a bit uncomfortable, but the car sped up slightly. “Honey, my mom just called. Maybe we could go to my place first this year?” Suppressing my anger, I asked, “Is there some emergency at your parents’ place that requires us to rush back today?” He stammered, unable to give a straight answer, just silently pressing the gas pedal a few more times. My voice rose. “Ethan, we had a deal. My parents have cooked a whole feast waiting for us for dinner.” Sensing my displeasure, Ethan finally started explaining: “Sarah, my sister Jenny managed to come home with her kid for Christmas this year, it’s a rare occasion. She really wants me to bring you home so we can all take a family photo together. Can you do this for me?” He’d told me about this sister before. She rarely came home after getting married, and supposedly her husband wasn’t good to her, always messing around. Her sudden return this time… did something happen? I checked the map on my phone. We were getting closer and closer to Ethan’s hometown. Turning back to my parents’ place would add another three hours to the trip. After his repeated pleading, I had to give in. I called my parents, explained the situation, and told them we’d have to go to my in-laws’ first this year. Though unhappy, my parents just reminded me to be careful and polite when I got there. … When we arrived at Ethan’s family home, his parents beamed, seeing us loaded down with bags and gifts. A woman walked out of the house, holding the hand of a five or six-year-old boy. The boy resembled Ethan somewhat. They say nephews often look like their uncles, so I guessed that must be Ethan’s sister, Jenny. Ethan’s mom quickly pulled the child over to me. “Bobby, come here. Say hi to Aunt Sarah.” The boy mumbled a soft “Aunt Sarah,” and I handed him the gift card I had ready. He shyly retreated back to his mother’s side. I politely greeted her, “Hi, Jenny.” She just sniffed, turned around, and took the boy back into her room. Ethan’s mom looked a little embarrassed. “She hasn’t been home in a long time, she’s a bit out of sorts. Don’t mind her, Sarah.” Since we were already here, I figured we had to make the best of the holiday. Ethan and I started helping his mom get things ready, bustling around. Jenny just watched us come and go with a long face. Especially when Ethan showed any concern for me, she’d throw out a snide remark or two. I quietly asked Ethan if his sister didn’t like me. He just reassured me, saying she was heartbroken after her husband left her, and that’s why she was acting this way. It’s normal for someone going through a rough breakup to be moody. I was puzzled, though. If she specifically wanted to meet me, why was she being so cold? All these questions were answered on Christmas Eve. During dinner, Ethan’s mother suddenly proposed that Jenny’s son, Bobby, be legally put under my name so he could attend school in the city. I glanced at Ethan. He practically buried his head in his bowl. His mother continued: “Sarah, Bobby just needs to use your address for the school district. It’s just on paper. Besides, you two don’t have kids yet anyway.” The apartment was mine. My parents made the down payment before the wedding, and I paid the mortgage. Ethan and I split our finances down the middle after getting married, so decisions about the apartment were mine to make. Seeing my silence, Ethan’s mother nudged Jenny beside her: “Are you mute? Say something.” Jenny finally spoke, reluctantly: “Can’t you see she doesn’t want to? What’s the point of you blabbering on?” Her words silenced the table instantly. Everyone looked our way. My chopsticks, reaching for food, hovered awkwardly. I nudged Ethan under the table, but he pretended not to notice, just kept eating. My heart instantly turned cold. This mother-daughter duo was putting on a show, trying to pressure me into agreeing out of politeness. … “The apartment is technically still under my parents’ names. I’ll have to ask them about this.” Luckily, when I bought it, my salary wasn’t high enough, so we put it in my parents’ names initially. It served as a convenient excuse now. Hearing this, Jenny scoffed, while Ethan’s mother forced a smile. “Well, yes, you certainly need to ask your parents. Let’s eat, let’s eat.” The rest of the meal passed with unspoken tensions. Later that night, while setting off some fireworks, one of Ethan’s young cousins accidentally bumped into Jenny. The boy mumbled, looking down, “Sorry, ma’am.” (He used a term closer to ‘sister-in-law’ in the original, but ‘ma’am’ or avoiding a title fits better here). I thought he might be talking to me and asked loudly, “What’s wrong?” The little boy just bolted away. Jenny, however, shot me a glare. That look made me feel she genuinely disliked me. The next day was Christmas Day. As soon as I woke up, Ethan told me to go serve tea to the elders. (This custom is specific, let’s adapt it to a more general ‘pay respects’ or ‘give gifts’ scenario typical of a formal family gathering, though less common in the US. Let’s make it about giving a small gift or offering a formal greeting). I was surprised that this small town had such specific holiday rituals. After offering greetings and a small gift to Ethan’s parents, his mother gave me a card with some cash inside, smiling. I took the card and turned to leave, but Ethan stopped me and led me over to Jenny. “Give my sister a greeting too.” I looked at him, utterly confused. Paying respects to parents, I understood. But to his sister? I’d never heard of such a thing. It felt archaic, almost demeaning. Jenny sat on the chair, chin held high, looking down at me with disdain. I strongly felt her hostility, even though this was truly our first real interaction. Seeing me hesitate, Ethan urged me on. “Didn’t we only do this for your parents at the wedding?” Even though Jenny wasn’t at the wedding, Ethan had plenty of other cousins and relatives there, and this wasn’t done. Ethan nudged me again. “It’s a family tradition here. Just offer her a greeting.” Seeing me remain motionless, Jenny’s expression hardened where she sat. She snapped sharply: “You married Ethan, so you follow the family’s ways. You have to do this today.” This was the first time Jenny had raised her voice at me since I arrived, openly showing her dislike. I took the small token gift Ethan was holding out, making them think I was about to present it to Jenny. The next second, I dropped it on the floor. … The atmosphere instantly froze. Enraged, Jenny lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to react. Clutching my stinging left cheek, I stumbled back a step. “You’re just Ethan’s sister. What right do you have to hit me?” Looking at Ethan standing there, completely stunned, I wondered how I could have married such a spineless man. Watching his wife get hit by his own sister, and he just froze in shock. Jenny suddenly burst out laughing, her face twisting as she lunged at me again. “Today, I’ll teach you a lesson for Ethan, you disobedient bitch!” I thought Jenny was the aloof type, but deep down, she was completely unhinged. I even wondered if she had some mental health issues. Ethan’s parents finally reacted, rushing to pull her back. “Jenny, don’t be rash! Think about Bobby’s future, it depends on Ethan and Sarah!” I naturally assumed they meant Jenny was divorced and now relying on her family and her brother, Ethan. Suddenly, Bobby rushed out from the room, pummeling me with his small fists and feet. “You bad woman! It’s your fault I don’t have a daddy! I’ll beat you up!” Bobby’s words left me completely bewildered. This was the first time I’d ever met Jenny, let alone her supposed ex-husband. What misunderstanding was this? Ethan’s mother quickly covered Bobby’s mouth and dragged him away. Jenny was also led away, leaving just Ethan and me in the living room. He was silent for a long time, seemingly searching for an excuse. “Sarah, don’t take it personally. My sister… she’s not mentally stable right now. I apologize on her behalf.” He tried to step forward and hug me, but I dodged him. “So you just stood there and watched your sister hit me?” My relationship with Ethan was built over just a few months. He was introduced by a friend, and I thought he was honest and responsible. Now, it seemed he’d hidden his true nature very well. The plan to start trying for a baby after the New Year was now completely off the table in my mind. I decided I needed to seriously re-evaluate our marriage. … That evening, after Ethan’s sincere apologies, I backed down slightly. Christmas break was only a few days anyway. I could tough it out. Seeing my mood soften, Ethan brought up Bobby again. “Do you think maybe Bobby could come live with us after the holidays? My mom could come too, to look after him. My sister’s mental state… she definitely can’t care for him right now.” Seeing my silence, he added: “My parents have retirement pensions; they won’t need money from us. We can live just like before, plus we’ll have someone home to do chores and cook.” With him putting it that way, it was hard to refuse. Even if I disliked Jenny, the child was innocent. Growing up with a seemingly unstable mother could ruin his life. Plus, his grandmother would be looking after him, not me. When I nodded, Ethan was overjoyed and tried to get close to me. I instinctively pushed him away. “We have to get up early tomorrow to visit your uncle’s family. Let’s sleep.” The next day, on the way to visit relatives, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the neighbors were looking at me strangely. When I glanced their way, the chattering groups would fall conspicuously silent. Just as we neared his uncle’s house, an older woman, Mrs. Davis maybe, suddenly called out from behind us: “Ethan! How come your first wife isn’t out today?” Ethan’s face became extremely unnatural. “Mrs. Davis, what nonsense are you talking about? My wife is right here!” Mrs. Davis looked me up and down. “Oh? Went to the city and tricked another pretty wife, did you!” Another? Mrs. Davis’s words made me certain Ethan was hiding something significant from me. I wanted to ask her what she meant, but Ethan quickly pulled me away, muttering that Mrs. Davis had dementia. After visiting his uncle’s family and exchanging pleasantries. The uncle’s family also acted strangely, constantly asking, “When is Jenny leaving?” I was surprised by their intense curiosity about Jenny’s plans. I returned to Ethan’s house filled with doubt. Before I even stepped into the living room, I heard his mother’s voice. “Jenny, you need to stop provoking that Sarah for a while. What if she gets upset? What about Bobby? Can’t you just tolerate it for a few days?” Then came Jenny’s furious roar. “What was wrong with me asking her to show respect? She should have knelt and served me tea! Just based on the fact that I entered this family before she did! Back in the day, Sarah would just be a concubine!” My mind suddenly went blank. A few words echoed in my head. Ethan’s child… concubine… The words circled relentlessly. I couldn’t believe it, but I quickly understood what she meant. Ethan beside me was already panicking, rushing inside to try and stop them. Just then, Jenny burst out of her room, hair disheveled. The slap mark on her face was still clearly visible. … Seeing Ethan and me standing at the doorway.

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Two kids were in the same car crash, and I only saved one. My husband condemned me for being cold. My mother-in-law went ballistic, demanding, “Why didn’t you save your son?! Why didn’t you save my grandson?!” Because I did it on purpose. 1. In the hospital, Ethan was still in surgery. Little Chloe clung to me, her small body trembling. “Auntie Amelia, is Ethan gonna be okay?” I glanced towards the operating room, my expression flickering. Ethan’s legs were practically crushed. Even if he pulled through, he wouldn’t keep them. I pulled out a wet wipe and gently cleaned the grime off Chloe’s face, murmuring softly, “He’ll be okay, sweetie. Don’t worry.” Then, I checked her scrapes again. Her arms and knees were scraped raw. They’d been cleaned up, but looking at them still made my heart ache. “How about you? Does it hurt bad?” Chloe shook her head, poking my arm lightly with her little hand, her eyes red-rimmed. “I’m okay, Auntie. You’re hurt really bad. You should let the nurse bandage you up.” I’d been so focused on the kids that I hadn’t even registered my own injuries until she mentioned it. A big patch of skin was gone from my elbow, raw and bloody, looking nasty. It happened when I’d grabbed Chloe and rolled during the crash. Seeing the fear and worry in her eyes, I softened my voice even more. “Okay, Auntie will go get bandaged right now. Don’t cry, Chloe. Later, Auntie will buy you some ice cream, how about that?” Chloe quickly shook her head, showing surprising maturity. “I want to wait for Ethan to wake up. We can buy it for him.” Right. Her mind was completely fixated on Ethan now; she had no appetite for treats. I patted her head gently and didn’t push it. After I got my arm bandaged, my mother-in-law, Carol, and my sister-in-law, Sarah, rushed into the hospital. They frantically asked about Ethan. When I told them the truth, Carol grabbed my arm, her voice cracking with desperation, “Why didn’t you save your son?! Why didn’t you save my grandson?!” I just stared back at her meltdown, expressionless, saying nothing. 2. “He’s our family’s only grandson! Do you want us to have no one to carry on the name?! Amelia Stern, if anything happens to my grandson, I’ll never forgive you!” I finally spoke, my voice eerily calm. “It all happened so fast. I could only grab one of them.” Sarah, Mark’s sister, shoved me, her eyes blazing red. “Amelia, are you crazy?! Why is Ethan the one in there?!” I looked at her losing control and gave a cold smirk. “Who did you think it should be? Chloe? Could you stand it if she were in there? She’s your daughter.” “You!” Chloe squeezed between us, hugging Sarah’s legs tightly, crying out, “Mommy, don’t pull Auntie! Auntie’s hurt! Auntie’s hurt!” “Get off me!” Sarah kicked Chloe away. I reacted instantly, scooping her into my arms. The anger I’d been suppressing finally surfaced. I glared hard at Sarah, warning her, “Sarah, if you try that again, I won’t be so nice!” Both Sarah and Carol froze, stunned. In all the time they’d known me, this was the first time I’d ever spoken to them with such harshness. Just then, a doctor walking by sternly told us to keep quiet. That finally shut them up. While waiting for the surgery to end, mother and daughter huddled together, looking utterly terrified and anxious. It was almost funny to watch. I glanced down at Chloe’s downcast face, my heart clenching. I hugged her closer. “Chloe, are you hungry? How about Auntie takes you out to get something to eat?” Before Chloe could answer, Sarah shot me a venomous look. “Are you serious?! How can you even think about food right now?!” I swallowed my anger, my voice cold. “Ethan’s surgery could take hours. Are we all supposed to starve while waiting? Besides, isn’t Chloe your daughter? She’s hurt and scared too. Are you only concerned about my son and have no thought for her?” Sarah was speechless, her face flushed red with anger. Chloe gently tugged my hand. “Auntie, I’m not hungry. Let’s wait for Ethan to come out.” Out of consideration for Chloe’s feelings, I held back the harsher words I wanted to say. A little later, my husband, Mark, arrived. 3. “How is he? How’s the kid?” he asked, out of breath. Carol seemed to find her anchor, collapsing into Mark’s arms, sobbing, “Ethan’s still in surgery… it looks really bad… I don’t know if he’s going to make it!” “And your wonderful wife here,” she spat, glaring at me, “didn’t even save her own son. Cold-blooded, that’s what she is!” Mark turned to me, his expression dark with displeasure. “Amelia, what the hell happened?” Impatiently, I repeated myself again. “It happened too fast. I could only save one.” “Then why didn’t you save Ethan?!” “Why, why, why? Enough with the whys!” I looked at their faces with disgust. “All you care about is Ethan! Doesn’t Chloe’s life matter? If Chloe were the one lying in there, would you even care?!” Just then, the doors to the operating room opened. Ethan was wheeled out. He was no longer in immediate danger, but his head injury was significant, and both legs were gone. He would need to be monitored and treated in the ICU. Hearing this, the Davis family completely fell apart. Carol and Sarah buried their faces in their hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Even Mark’s eyes turned red. While their attention was entirely focused on Ethan, I gently patted Chloe, who was crying silently. “Don’t cry, sweetie. Ethan’s going to be okay. Let me take you to get something to eat, alright?” She shook her head, wiping her tears. I tried a different approach. “Okay, then… how about Chloe keeps Auntie company while I eat? Auntie is really, really hungry.” Chloe glanced at her family, bit her lip, and nodded. I took Chloe to Pizza Hut and ordered a bunch of her favorite things. But the poor kid had no appetite, her little face clouded with worry. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know where to start. From her perspective, seeing Ethan hurt so badly must have been devastating. “Auntie, why didn’t you save Ethan?” Chloe’s sudden question startled me. I paused, then gave a wry smile. “Didn’t Auntie tell you? I could only save one person.” “But… Ethan’s your real kid…” The little girl looked confused, and there was a hint of guilt in her eyes, as if she felt she’d stolen the health that rightfully belonged to Ethan. I dropped the smile, my expression becoming serious. “Then tell Auntie this: if I had saved Ethan and not you, would you be sad?” 4. Chloe thought for a moment. “If I lost my legs, I’d be really, really sad. But… if you hadn’t saved me, I wouldn’t be sad at you. Ethan’s your real son. You were supposed to save him first.” She was so young, yet her maturity was heartbreaking. Compared to Ethan, who was basically the same age – maybe born a few minutes earlier – but acted like a little terror. Before, I’d just thought Chloe was exceptionally well-behaved. I never considered what kind of environment must have shaped her into being so quiet and compliant. “Chloe, in Auntie’s heart, you are very, very important. Maybe even more important than Ethan.” The little girl looked up, surprised and confused. “Why?” “Because Ethan has so many people who love him. He doesn’t need one more from me.” Chloe paused, then looked down sadly, poking at her food. “Yeah… Mommy and Grandma Carol… they love Ethan a lot…” “So, you see, since so many people love Ethan for me, I should love Chloe more, right? Now, does Chloe want to show Auntie how much she appreciates that love?” Chloe nodded vigorously. “Yes!” “Then you need to eat your food, okay? No being sad. Don’t make Auntie worry, alright?” “Okay!” Whatever it took, at least the little girl started eating properly. Whenever she used to visit my house, she’d always eye Ethan’s snacks and toys with envy. When I took them both out, she’d watch Ethan ordering whatever he wanted, buying things impulsively, while she never asked for anything herself. She loved Pizza Hut. Every time I brought her here, her eyes would light up with undisguised joy. Back then, I could never understand it. Okay, Carol favored boys, that was obvious. But Sarah was Chloe’s mother. Why was she so harsh with her own daughter? For a long time, I assumed it was because Sarah was a single mom, projecting her anger towards Chloe’s father onto Chloe herself. That’s why she couldn’t love her properly. The Davis family was busy fussing over Ethan. I took Chloe home first to rest. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. After eating, she quickly drifted off to sleep. Once Chloe was settled, I walked around the house, finally stopping by the window. My hands trembled as I lit a cigarette. It was residual fear, mixed with the overwhelming relief of surviving something… again. Who would believe that I’d already lived through this accident once before? The only difference was, last time, I saved Ethan.

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My son was prone to rage, a violent bully. Even as I lay dying, he was hitting me: “You old hag, who the hell do you think you are, trying to tell me what to do?” My young daughter threw herself over me, but it didn’t stop his fists: “Get off, you useless brat! Move, or I’ll beat you too!” Then I opened my eyes. I was back, one year earlier. I gently reminded my husband, “Remember to just give him whatever he wants, indulge his every whim. Otherwise, he might actually kill you, you know.” 1. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my son frantically smashing things. As he wrecked the room, he screamed, “You old hag, if you don’t buy me that new PlayStation, get the hell out of my house!” My daughter was terrified, sobbing loudly. “Shut up or I’ll choke you!” he shrieked, grabbing a vase and hurling it. I quickly shielded my daughter. Ceramic shards hit my forehead, and blood instantly welled up. He didn’t even notice, just kept throwing things at me. I wiped away the blood, numbly cleaning up the mess. Then, I looked him straight in the eye and refused sternly: “No. I’m not buying it.” He blinked, stunned that I’d contradicted him for the first time, then exploded with rage: “Damn you, why won’t you buy it for me? Why the hell not!” I looked at my son’s face, twisted with hatred, murder flashing in his eyes, and my heart went cold. He was my firstborn, the Jones family’s golden boy, showered with affection since birth. My in-laws treated him like a precious jewel, spoiling him rotten. As a result, he grew up arrogant and aggressive. Every time I tried to set boundaries, my in-laws and my husband shut me down. “He’s just a kid,” they’d say. “He’ll grow out of it.” But if the roots are rotten, can the tree grow straight? In my past life, my own stupidity led to my miserable end. How could I have been so naive, believing he would magically change as he got older? How could I have believed my husband when he said every family needs someone to sacrifice, convincing me to become a stay-at-home mom? Letting his whole family treat me like the Jones’s maid. Even the child knew I deserved no respect. And now, this fifteen-year-old boy, already tall and strong, wanted to hit me again… Thinking of this, I dodged his incoming fist and slapped him hard across the face. “Because I’m your mother! You’re a student, you can’t be obsessed with video games!” He was stunned, frozen for a moment. Then he lunged at me, fists flying. “I’m gonna kill you today!” Quick as lightning, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. “If I can’t control you, maybe we should both just end it!” He swallowed hard, fear flickering in his eyes. Pointing a shaking finger at me, he backed away towards the door. “Fine! Just fine! You wait! I’ll have my dad deal with you when he gets back!” He slammed the door behind him. I finally let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My daughter ran to me, crying. “Mommy, are you okay?” Her chubby little hands touched my bruised cheek, trying to soothe the sting. “Mommy, does it hurt?” Tears welled up in my eyes. “When Lily kisses it better, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” In my past life, after my son killed me, my daughter’s life was hell. Grandparents ignored her, Dad didn’t care, her brother bullied her relentlessly. She ended up an orphan, unwanted by everyone. This time, I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. 2. My husband’s call came an hour later. The second I answered, he roared, “Sarah, what the hell is this about you kicking Kevin out of the house?!” “He’s just a kid! So he wants to play some games, big deal! Did you have to make such a scene? Do you have any idea how hard I work, busting my ass day and night to support you, him, and that… other kid? And you’re still not satisfied! Can’t I even have peace of mind on a business trip?” I held the phone away from my ear, interrupting his tirade coldly, “If you’re on a business trip, then focus on your work. When you get back, we need to settle things between us.” The yelling continued on the other end, but I had already hung up. I used to have a steady career. He was the one who sweet-talked me into quitting, saying he’d handle the finances, and I should focus on the home. My in-laws supposedly came to help with the kids, but really, they just wanted me to wait on them hand and foot. On top of raising the children, I had to care for them too. I was exhausted every single day. When we disagreed on how to raise Kevin, their boundless spoiling drained me completely. Later, Mark convinced me to have a second child, promising that his parents would take over childcare afterward, freeing me up to go back to work. But after Lily was born, my in-laws changed their tune right outside the delivery room, calling her a “money pit” and saying the Jones family didn’t want a girl. From then on, I raised two children alone. Going back to work became a distant dream. My life revolved around my husband and kids. Going out meant school runs and grocery shopping. Over time, I stopped bothering with makeup or dressing up. Eventually, I became the “old hag” my husband complained about, and my son picked up the term, using it too. Not long after I hung up, I got a call from the neighborhood security. My son, Kevin, had gotten into a fight with another boy in the community park’s fitness area. He started it. As soon as I arrived, the other boy’s parent started yelling. “How do you raise your kid? He’s like some rabid animal, attacking people for no reason! My son didn’t even look at him, and yours just punched him! You think you can just bully people?” “Yeah, grandson! Let me see him again, I’ll beat the crap out of him!” my son snarled from the side. The neighbor was furious. “We’re calling the police! No settling this privately!” I bowed my head, apologized profusely, and promised to pay double for all medical expenses before they finally, reluctantly, let it go. Walking away from the security office, my son sneered at me, “Wimp. So what if we have to pay? Dad’s loaded. Like we can’t afford it. Should’ve beaten him harder!” “That’s disgraceful! Go home, now!” I yelled at him. He froze. Then he gave me a hard shove and stomped off towards home. Back inside, Kevin sprawled on the sofa and ordered me around, “I’m hungry. Go buy me Popeyes.” Looking at his arrogant face, treating me like his servant, I wanted to laugh bitterly. In my past life, he was always this defiant. I tried to reach him with love, gave in to his every demand, which only made him think I was afraid of his father and grandparents yelling at me. Now, it was clear. This child was beyond saving. “I don’t have any money. Ask your father.” First, I didn’t approve of him constantly eating fried chicken, soda, and burgers. Second, his attitude towards me was truly chilling. Kevin glared at me. “Dad gives you money for expenses! Go buy it!” Just then, the doorbell rang. It was my best friend, Brenda. She saw us staring each other down and looked surprised. “What’s wrong? Look how upset Kevin is.” “I want Popeyes, and the old hag won’t buy it for me!” Brenda immediately played peacemaker, pulling Kevin onto the sofa, cooing softly, “If Mommy won’t buy it, Auntie Brenda will.” With that, Brenda took out her phone, handed it to Kevin, and told him to order whatever he wanted. As Kevin ordered, he shot me a warning glare, daring me to object. He’d been overweight for two years already. The doctor said absolutely no fried foods, especially chicken and soda. I tried to enforce it strictly every day, but his father, grandparents, and even Brenda constantly snuck him extra treats. Two years of trying to lose weight, and he only got fatter. In stark contrast to Kevin’s selfish rebellion, my daughter Lily was a true sweetheart, well-behaved and adorable. I decided to ignore my son. I went with Lily to her room, helped her set up her drawing supplies, and while she was busy drawing, I went to the kitchen to start dinner. Kevin was gorging himself in the living room, practically draped over Brenda, praising her effusively. Then I heard him say, “Auntie Brenda, you should be my mom instead. I can’t stand that old hag anymore, she ruins everything!” Brenda giggled, covering her mouth. “What nonsense are you talking!” “It’s true! Auntie Brenda, please be my mom.” The spatula in my hand suddenly felt heavy, slipping slightly. A deep chill spread through my heart. For this marriage, for this son, I had done more than enough. Enough was enough. 3. Mark suddenly walked in. Kevin’s scowl vanished instantly, and he ran happily to hug his father. “Dad, you’re finally back!” Mark hugged Kevin back tightly. “Hey, buddy! Dad missed you like crazy.” “Daddy.” Lily left the dinner table too, wanting to greet her father, but Mark coldly pushed her away. My daughter’s lower lip trembled, and she looked at me with pleading eyes. I went over and carried her back to her chair. Father and son completely ignored this. Kevin pointed an accusing finger at me. “Dad, she wouldn’t let me have fried chicken and soda! And she hit me!” He pointed to his cheek. “It really hurts.” Mark shot me an angry glare, then handed the family bucket of chicken he was holding to Kevin. He said loudly, clearly for me to hear, “Eat up, son. Eat all you want. It’s my money she’s spending anyway. Who dares tell my precious boy he can’t have what he wants!” They say depending on someone else financially is hard. Mark proved it point-blank. He believed that as long as I asked him for living expenses, I had to obey his commands. He pulled Kevin over towards me, his tone commanding, “Apologize to your son. You went too far.” I replied firmly, “Absolutely not.” He roared at me, “If you don’t apologize, I’ll cut off support for you and the girl! I’ll only provide for Kevin!” So, the son belonged to the Jones family, but the daughter was solely mine. I hadn’t expected him to care for Lily, but hearing him say it out loud still stung. “Bullshit!” I retorted forcefully. Mark froze. It was the first time I’d defied him so openly in front of someone else, and with Kevin waiting for him to assert his authority. He became furious, raising his hand to slap me. “You rebellious bitch!” I looked at him coldly. “I want a divorce.” His raised hand stopped mid-air. He was stunned, unable to believe that I, who had always revolved around him, would initiate a divorce. Then, as if hearing a joke, he started laughing, the flesh on his face trembling. “Your parents practically disowned you, and you’ve got that brother living there now. Where are you gonna go if you divorce me? Do you even know your own worth?” “If you behave, apologize to Kevin, and beg his forgiveness, maybe I’ll give you one more chance.” I didn’t bother arguing. I pulled out the divorce papers. “I’ve already signed. Kevin goes with you, Lily comes with me.” His eyes flickered down to my signature, confirming I was serious. He sneered, “You’re the one asking for the divorce. Fine, but don’t expect a dime from me for you two.” “No problem.” Mark glared at me. Maybe my initiating the divorce wounded his pride. He laughed mockingly, “Talk is cheap. You think you can actually support that… girl… without me?” I said, “Why don’t you take both of them?” Mark fell silent for a moment. Brenda quickly interjected, “Sarah, what are you thinking? They say daughters are a comfort. You don’t want either of them? You’ll regret this later.” I stared straight at Mark, asking again, “I can’t afford both. Will you take them both?” The Jones family had always called Lily a “money pit”; they would never agree to take her. I was just calling his bluff. Kevin sneered at me, “Whoever had the useless kid can take her. The Jones family doesn’t raise useless kids.” Then, with an air of superiority, he added, “If you apologize to me right now, maybe I’ll feel sorry for you and ask Dad to give you some child support.” In that instant, it felt like a thousand needles were pricking my heart. Kevin was a carbon copy of Mark – arrogant, condescending, exactly like his father. In the last couple of years, Mark’s business had taken off, his office space getting bigger and bigger. Money had completely inflated his ego. Inflated it so much he thought I couldn’t possibly survive without this house, without him. In this home, I received zero respect. Mark was clearly pleased with Kevin’s performance. “Good boy. Dad will buy you the latest game console tomorrow.” Kevin’s face lit up immediately. He looked at me like I was an eyesore. “Dad, hurry up and sign the papers so she leaves! Let her take the useless kid. She’ll come crying and begging you later.” 4. Mark smirked cruelly. “Take the girl and get out, and I’ll sign.” I said, “Fine, I’ll take her. But you need to give me some financial compensation. How else am I supposed to raise her?” Perhaps afraid I’d drag things out, Mark didn’t hesitate much. He actually gave me a sum of money. “Okay,” I said. “From now on, if Kevin needs anything, you can’t come to me. Likewise, even if we end up begging on the streets, we will never come to you.” “You remember what you said.” Mark quickly signed the agreement, his fat trembling slightly. “Remember! Don’t come crawling back, even if you’re begging!” “The same goes for you and your son,” I shot back. My wonderful son sneered at me, “Just get lost already! Once you’re gone, Dad can take me to buy that game console.” Brenda stood by, putting on a show of trying to reconcile us. “Oh dear, why divorce? Surely you can work things out?” I gave her a cold, knowing look. In my past life, when I was heavily pregnant with my second child and started hemorrhaging, I called Mark to take me to the hospital. He said he was busy, told me to take a taxi. But then I saw Brenda’s social media post. A familiar pair of hands, a familiar watch. That night, I was alone in the hospital fighting for my life. Because they couldn’t reach him, my parents had to come and sign the consent forms for surgery. Afterward, Brenda came to visit me in the hospital. She gushed about the diamond necklace her “boyfriend” had given her that night, how he took her shopping, bought her designer bags, how they embraced on a bed covered in heart-shaped rose petals… For the sake of the children, I chose to play deaf and dumb. In public, I forced a smile. Behind closed doors, I cried constantly. The resentment festered inside me, unresolved. My daughter never even got a drop of breast milk because of the stress. I had failed my daughter. My husband and my best friend had been together for ages. My precious son thought Brenda would treat him well. He didn’t understand. Brenda was spoiling him rotten, setting him up for failure! He wasn’t her flesh and blood. Whether he became obese or terminally ill, what did it matter to her? As for Mark, that scumbag? Once he had new children with Brenda, would he still care about Kevin? But… it was none of my business anymore. Since Kevin didn’t want me as his mother, I didn’t want him either.

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I host a relationship advice stream. That night, I connected with a female caller. She said she’d fallen for someone, but he was married. It wasn’t until I clicked on her profile page, checking out her videos, that I realized the guy she was talking about looked disturbingly familiar. Wasn’t this mystery man my own picture-perfect, couldn’t-do-enough-for-me husband? 1 I’m a relationship advice streamer. Every night, I slap on a silly face filter and use a voice modulator to chat live with followers, helping them figure out their problems. Tonight’s caller was a regular, one of my long-time fans. But what she said blew up the chat and knocked me completely off balance. “I don’t believe in limiting myself. If I like someone, that’s all that matters.” “So, okay, I’m not technically the other woman yet, but I might be soon, and honestly? I don’t care. As long as I’m happy.” The chat immediately filled with question marks. People were seriously questioning her sanity. I couldn’t help but push back a little, pointing out that knowingly becoming the other woman hurts people. But instead of reflecting, she doubled down. “You can’t force feelings. It’s not like I’m demanding he marry me. Is it wrong to chase your own happiness?” What kind of twisted logic was this? “So, what if another woman came along and stole your husband? You’d be okay with that?” She paused for maybe two seconds before firing back, all self-righteous, “Yeah, as long as we split the assets fairly.” Of course. So, it really was about the guy’s money. Trying to sound romantic while being completely mercenary. She kept spewing her justifications in the stream, and meanwhile, the viewer count was skyrocketing. I quickly grabbed my phone and used my burner account to check out her profile. I had to see who this woman was. How could anyone be so shameless? Her profile pics showed her smiling sweetly, looking blissfully happy. The man next to her always had his back to the camera, never showing his face. The only identifying feature visible was on the back of his neck – four moles, forming a perfect little square. That pattern sparked a flicker of recognition, making my heart pound erratically. I scrolled through more of her posts. Always selfies of her, followed by shots of a man’s arm, his leg, other body parts. Never his face. Coincidentally, her IP address showed she was in the same city as me. After quickly hitting ‘follow’ from my burner account, I forced myself back to the stream, trying to pull myself together. The chat was a waterfall of comments. The woman was still talking nonstop, clearly pleased with herself, thinking she’d won me over with her “logic.” I looked at her profile picture and let out a cold, genuine laugh. “You know people are going to drag you for this. You know your morals are messed up. You’re blowing up a family and calling it love? Knowingly being the other woman? What kind of person are you?” Even then, she argued back, accusing me of using my platform to cyberbully her. I wasn’t having it. I laid into her with righteous anger, then decisively cut her connection. Virtual gifts flooded the screen. The chat was full of applause. I’ve been streaming for three or four years, and this was the first time I’d encountered someone so brazen about being the third party. After she was gone, I took a few more calls, but my heart wasn’t in it. All evening, I kept seeing flashes of them together, kept picturing those four damn moles. As soon as I could reasonably end the stream, I logged into my burner account and messaged her. I pretended to be a fellow mistress, complaining about how nobody understood our situation, telling her I felt a connection, like we were kindred spirits. It only took a couple of hours for her to start trusting me. She even started spilling details about the guy’s family situation, his age, his job. Married three years, no kids, a dynamic where the wife was the main breadwinner… Every little clue seemed to point in one direction. The man she was talking about was my own doting, perfect husband. Mark. 2: The Confirmation After chatting for a bit, I told her I needed to sign off and get some rest. Not long after, Mark came home. He immediately started giving me a shoulder rub, sweet as ever, even running water for me to soak my feet. He always said I worked too hard, that this helped me relax. Honestly, the idea of him cheating seemed impossible. Two years ago, when my grandpa was hospitalized, Mark was a rockstar. He was there constantly, helping out so much that even the doctors commented on what a devoted grandson-in-law he was. Every holiday, every birthday, he’d be at my parents’ place days early, planning meals, bringing thoughtful gifts for them. We never even fought. How could he be cheating? I stared at him, lost in thought. Mark seemed to notice my gaze and offered a small smile. His hand, still damp, lightly tapped my nose. “Looks like my wife is exhausted. You’re totally zoned out.” He sat beside me, pulling me into a hug. He reminded me our anniversary was the day after tomorrow, whispering he had a surprise planned. The next day, he took me to a high-end jewelry store bright and early. A salesperson approached us eagerly, a dazzling smile on her face. That face… It was the woman from my stream last night! Jessica! Her eyes flickered past me, landing on Mark beside me. I caught it out of the corner of my eye. Mark’s expression didn’t change, but the tiny muscle twitching under his eye gave him away. So, they definitely knew each other. Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I followed her into the main showroom. I kept my head down, pretending to browse the display cases, but I was watching them both like a hawk. They were chatting and laughing easily, completely ignoring me. I looked up. “Your name’s Jessica, right? You’ve been really helpful. Can I get your contact info? I’ll definitely come back to you next time I’m looking for jewelry.” She hesitated for a split second, then agreed. Later, I casually scrolled through her professional Instagram – clearly a work account. The latest post: Pushing for my sales target! Free stainless steel tumbler with purchase! Plus, you get me as your bonus. Attached was a cute, flirty selfie. So, Mark’s idea of an anniversary gift was actually just helping Jessica hit her sales quota! Fury turned into retail therapy. I pointed at several expensive pieces, racking up a hefty bill. Right there, in front of both of us, Mark had to play the big shot, emptying out his personal savings account to cover it. 3: The Alliance That night, I hopped back onto my burner account and messaged Jessica. She was practically gloating, bragging about how clueless his wife (me!) was, totally oblivious that she’d just helped Jessica hit her sales target. Called me an idiot. Playing the part of the envious fellow mistress, I asked what her next move was. Surely, she didn’t want to stay hidden forever? I fanned the flames: “I’m so jealous you actually get to see his wife! I keep pushing my guy to divorce her, but he just avoids the topic. I don’t even know if I should keep waiting.” Sure enough, less than two minutes later, Jessica sent a barrage of voice messages. She urged me to fight for “true love,” not to be scared off by society’s judgment. Back and forth we went, becoming “besties” who shared everything. Our little “True Love Alliance.” And Jessica got bolder. She started posting pictures of herself with Mark on her work Instagram more often. Still careful never to show his face, though. I silently ‘liked’ every single one. 4: The Confrontation Today was our wedding anniversary. Mark had ordered a cake first thing in the morning, promising to cook me a special dinner when he got home from work. But by evening, he still wasn’t back. Then came the phone call. A sudden work emergency, he claimed. He had to work late, couldn’t make it home. He promised to make it up to me another day. I asked calmly, “Mark, are you absolutely sure you’re not coming home tonight?” I could hear frantic typing on his end. He was too “busy” to even really answer, just mumbled a few excuses and hung up quickly. My phone pinged with a notification. It was Jessica, messaging my burner account. Bragging. Saying her boyfriend ditched his boring wife to be with her, how incredibly romantic and sweet it all was. I knew how vile she was, but I played along, praising her boldness. Ever since that jewelry store incident, it was like Mark had gotten a taste of freedom and couldn’t get enough. He was becoming reckless. He came home less and less. Our arguments became more frequent. Jessica grew even more daring, sneakily snapping pictures of his back, posting them to her stories, then deleting them five minutes later. Completely disregarding me. Fine. If that’s how they wanted to play it, I’d just add fuel to the fire. I kept up the charade with Jessica on my burner account, feeding her fake updates about my own “affair.” I told her I’d confronted the wife, caused a huge scene, and that they were definitely getting divorced now. I filled my messages with fake joy about finally “making it official.” Predictably, Jessica couldn’t stand it. The next day, I was in the kitchen making lunch when I heard a sharp knock at the door. There she stood, flawlessly made-up, poured into a tight, dark gray dress that showed off every curve. Before I could react, she swept past me like she owned the place, plopped down on my sofa in her high heels. One shoe dangled precariously off her toes. “Hi. I’m Jessica. Mark’s partner. I believe we’ve met.” Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, a sneer playing on her lips. “Honestly, I don’t see what he ever saw in you. You’re nothing special.” “He doesn’t love you anymore. There’s no point in dragging this out. Just be smart, sign the divorce papers, and let yourselves move on with some dignity.” Seeing my silence, she grew bolder, launching into a speech about her deep, unbreakable bond with Mark. Anyone listening would think I was the homewrecker. “You’re just a housewife. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll hurry up and—” SMACK! I didn’t let her finish. I swung my hand with everything I had. My palm stung. A bright red handprint blossomed on her right cheek. Damn, that felt good. “You hit me!” Her eyes widened in fury, and she lunged at me, teeth bared. I’m taller, and her heels made her clumsy. I easily shoved her back onto the sofa and started letting her have it. Jessica shrieked that she was calling the cops. I stayed calm. “Go ahead. Call them. Let’s see who they arrest – me, or the woman breaking into someone’s home to harass them.” “If he really loved you, would he let you be the dirty little secret? You think you found true love, but you’re just a fling to him.” “A plaything. Something to use and throw away when he’s bored.” That hit a nerve. Jessica completely lost it. She swiped everything off the coffee table – ceramic vases shattered on the floor. I quickly pulled out my phone, recorded her meltdown, sent the video to our family group chat, and specifically tagged Mark. Less than twenty minutes later, he burst through the door, looking frantic. Jessica saw him like a lifeline, sobbing and throwing herself into his arms. I leaned against the wall, watching the drama unfold with a strange sense of detachment. Two whole years. Now, the mask was finally slipping. I was almost excited to see how he’d try to spin this. Mark shoved Jessica away. Sweat beaded on his forehead, darkening his shirt, even though the room wasn’t particularly warm. He scrambled over to me, hands raised in surrender, begging me to listen. “Chloe, it’s all a misunderstanding! There’s nothing going on between us, I swear!” Jessica screeched, “Didn’t you tell me you two had no feelings left?! That she’s just some online personality with a bit of money?! Look at her! How can she possibly compare to me?” “Jessica, shut up!” Mark yelled back. I stared at them, a dawning realization hitting me. So, in Mark’s world, our love had died long ago. It was true, my online career had taken off in the last couple of years. I’d even bought myself a new car. If Jessica hadn’t blurted it out today, I might never have known he was resentful, that he was after my money. Suddenly, the disgust washed over me. These two were repulsive. I started pushing them both towards the door. Suddenly, Jessica clutched her stomach, her eyes wide with alarm as she looked at me. The words she spoke next hit me like a physical blow. “Don’t touch me! I’m pregnant!”

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My boyfriend became a zombie. The moment we saw each other again, he lunged at me viciously… and hammered the zombie right behind me into oblivion! He quickly hid his blood-stained hands behind his back, not wanting me to see. He just looked at me with those wide, puppy-dog eyes, like a kid caught doing something wrong. 2 My boyfriend, Liam, was my best friend since kindergarten. He was always obsessed with being clean, but right now, he was covered in dust and blood. His usually neat hair was a total mess, his glasses were gone, and his eyes… they were glowing with this freaky, unnatural red light. I slowly walked towards him. He just stood there, looking completely lost. The virus had taken over his mind, but somehow, it seemed to strip away his usual guard, showing the real him underneath. Normally, you could never tell what Liam was thinking, but right now, his embarrassment was written all over his face. He suddenly turned, and I knew he was about to run. I darted forward and grabbed his shirt. He still tried to pull away, but I snapped, “Liam!” Ever since we were kids, me using his full name meant I was seriously mad, and he’d always, always drop everything to try and make me feel better. Even as a zombie, that hadn’t changed. But this time, his apology was in his actions. He stopped trying to run. I remembered I had some wet wipes in my backpack. I pulled one out and started gently wiping the blood and grime off his face. Liam obediently closed his eyes, letting me clean him up. His face was clean, so I started on his hands. But he’d clearly been wandering outside for a while. Some of the dirt was just too caked on; it would need a real wash. So, I brought him home. 3 It sounds completely insane, I know. I actually brought a zombie home. But he was Liam. My Liam, who would never hurt me. First thing I did when we got inside was double-bolt the door. Luckily, the outbreak hit in the evening about a month ago, so most of the zombies in our apartment building were probably trapped inside their own places. Still, you always had to watch out for surprise attacks – Survival 101. Door secured, I dug out some old clothes Liam had left at my place and led him to the bathroom. Turns out, even though some part of him was still human, he’d forgotten basic life skills. The blank stare he gave the showerhead told me everything I needed to know. This was going to be up to me. By the time we were done, he was spotless and fresh, and I was soaked to the bone, my face probably beet red. But I was still incredibly happy. My food stash at home was running low. I’d planned to risk a trip to the corner store downstairs today, maybe scavenge something. Instead, I found Liam. It was more than I could have hoped for. After a terrifying day, and being absolutely starving, I slept like a rock. Sometime deep in the night, I had a nightmare. I dreamed a zombie was biting me. I jolted awake and realized it was Liam, his arms wrapped around my neck, gnawing on my skin. He hadn’t broken the skin, just sort of… grinding, but I could see him swallowing reflexively. “Leo,” I whispered, using his old nickname, my hand gently stroking his hair. “Are you trying to eat me?” “Rrrgh!” Hearing my voice, Liam shuddered violently, pushed me away, and scrambled out of the bedroom. “Leo!” I chased him into the spare room. He was huddled in the corner, his tall frame curled into a ball, ferociously biting his own hand. Skin tore, but not a single drop of blood fell. He was hungry, wasn’t he? Hurting himself like this just so he wouldn’t hurt me? My nose stung, and tears welled up. I rushed to the storage closet. I remembered a gag gift a friend gave me for my eighteenth birthday – one of those weird, Hannibal Lecter-style muzzles. It was supposed to be a joke, but now… I didn’t want to use something like this on Liam, I really didn’t. But I couldn’t think of any other way to stop him from hurting himself. I found it and hurried back to the spare room. Liam growled at me. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell me what he wanted, but his red eyes were filled with desperation and pain, begging me to stay away. I ignored it. Stubbornly, I walked closer and knelt in front of him. I carefully fitted the makeshift muzzle over his mouth. Liam reached out, his cold, grayish thumb trembling as it brushed the corner of my eye. That’s when I realized I was crying. I stayed in the room with Liam all night. As the sky turned a dim gray, I went out onto the balcony, my heart heavy as I looked out at the world. Everything had changed. Completely. Zombies roamed free, pushing humanity into smaller and smaller corners. Despair hung over the city like a shroud. The streets were stained with dried blood, littered with gruesome reminders of what people had become. It was horrifying. I glanced to my left and saw Mrs. Henderson, my neighbor, standing on her balcony in a white nightgown, just staring blankly at the ground below. I called out her name. She turned, and our eyes met. I wanted to say something encouraging, like we usually did, find some words of comfort. But before I could speak, she gave me a small, sad smile, climbed over the railing, and jumped. 4 A swarm of zombies instantly converged on her broken body below, tearing it apart. I could almost hear the sickening crunch and squelch of their teeth. Swallowing back nausea, I looked up at the sky. It wasn’t the first suicide I’d heard about. Not by a long shot. I knew Mrs. Henderson had reached her breaking point. Her husband went out for supplies last week and never came back. Three days ago, her only son left too. I’d overheard him promising her over and over that he’d return, saying he was fully geared up and would be fine. Then… nothing. Silence. “Rrrroargh!” Liam was growling in the spare room. I knew he was starving, but we didn’t have any meat left. I didn’t want to die by his hands, but I couldn’t let him leave either. I went back to him, adjusted the muzzle, and took his hand, just like I always used to. “Leo,” I said, trying to sound normal. “Let’s go find some food, okay? Can you try really, really hard not to… eat people?” I took Liam to the big supermarket downtown. Before leaving, I bundled myself up – layers of clothes, and then wrapped myself in thick layers of old newspaper and packing tape. Crude armor, but better than nothing. This was my third supply run. I hated going this far, but the small convenience store downstairs had been picked clean ages ago. The big supermarket was my only hope. When the virus first hit, a lot of people fled the city, heading for safer zones. But some, like me, were too scared to leave home, hunkered down, and missed the first wave of evacuations. Now, we were just trying to survive day by day. I wondered if any more rescue teams would ever come back for us. Liam followed me obediently, staying close like a loyal shadow. He didn’t attack me, didn’t wander off. When we encountered zombies, I used my modified fire axe to take them down – aiming for the head. But the closer we got to the supermarket, the more zombies there were. I was starting to get overwhelmed. Just as I was dealing with one in front of me, another lunged from the side, clamping its jaws onto my lower leg. I cried out, looking down. It was just the top half of a zombie, dragging its guts behind it, clawing its way up my pants. I reached for the boning knife I kept tucked in my belt, ready to plunge it into its skull. Before I could strike, its head snapped sideways with a sickening crack. I looked up into Liam’s expressionless face. Zombies couldn’t show much emotion, but somehow, I felt his worry radiating off him. “Leo, I’m okay! Look!” I stuck my leg out for him to see. “See? This newspaper armor actually works! I stuffed cotton padding inside too. It didn’t even break the skin.” “Come on,” I said, patting his cheek. “Let’s go shopping!” I led him straight down to the supermarket’s basement level, where they usually kept the meat storage. There was still plenty of food down there. I took a deep breath and removed the muzzle from his face. It was incredibly risky – a starving Liam could easily turn on me. But I trusted him. I believed he wouldn’t hurt me, just like how, even as a zombie, he’d instinctively protected me moments ago. Holding my breath, I held out a piece of raw pork towards his mouth, my eyes filled with hope. Liam hesitated for a long moment, then leaned forward and took a bite. His face remained blank. I couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, but I saw his throat move as he swallowed. Relief washed over me, so strong I almost collapsed. I felt like I’d won the lottery. I offered him other things – raw beef, chicken. He ate them all. As long as it was raw meat, he seemed okay with it. I threw my arms around him, laughing and crying at the same time. His diet wasn’t limited to humans! There was hope! 5 Liam was different from the other zombies. Not just because he recognized me and could control his urge to attack me, but crucially, because he could eat raw meat. Other zombies didn’t seem to have either of these traits. My gut told me Liam’s uniqueness had to be kept secret. People don’t react well to anomalies, especially now. If anyone found out how different he was, they’d probably want to lock him up, study him… I’d seen enough movies and read enough books to know how that story goes. We grabbed as much meat and other supplies as we could carry and hurried back to the apartment building. As I reached our floor, I saw someone huddled by my neighbor’s door. He looked up sharply as I came up the stairs, then relaxed slightly when he saw it was me, slumping back against the wall. He was covered in dried blood and grime, looking like he’d just survived a major fight. I stopped, stunned. “Ethan…?” It was Mrs. Henderson’s son. “Sarah? Is my mom out? Why won’t she open the door?” My heart sank. Seeing his hopeful face, thinking about his mother’s desperate leap from the balcony… I didn’t know how to tell him. I remembered last year when he got into the state university. Just turned eighteen, so proud, his mom handing out little bags of candy at the building entrance, wanting everyone to share her joy. Now… this. God. Maybe he saw something in my face, because his expression started to change, hope draining away. “She went out, didn’t she…? Didn’t she? But I told her I’d come back! I promised her! Why… why didn’t she believe me…?” He started muttering to himself, pure panic taking over his eyes. “Your mom… she didn’t go out, Ethan…” His dull eyes flickered with a tiny spark. “I… I saw her this morning. She jumped from the balcony. She thought… she thought you weren’t coming back. I’m so sorry…” The words felt like stones in my mouth. Ethan froze. He stopped talking, just stared at the floor, his head bowed. I didn’t know what to say. Any words of comfort would sound hollow, useless. I thought he’d stay like that, lost in shock, but after a minute, he slowly stood up, picked up the makeshift weapon lying at his feet – looked like a sharpened pipe – and started walking towards the stairs, heading down. “Where are you going?” I called after him. His voice was raspy, broken. “Downstairs… to find my mom.

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