Category: English

I’d been in love with my childhood best friend for twenty years, but he only ever saw me as a little sister. When I finally gave him a love letter, he told me to forget about it immediately. That is, until I held my boyfriend’s hand right in front of him. Ethan’s eyes went red. He pushed my boyfriend aside and bit my lip, possessively. “Maya White, I don’t want to be your brother anymore.” I slapped him hard across the face. “You don’t even deserve to be treated like a dog.” 1 This marked my third failed attempt at skipping class this month. Once again, Ethan Miller grabbed me by the back of my collar and dragged me back. Rubbing the red mark on his wrist where I’d bitten him, he asked, “Maya White, are you trying to start a rebellion?” Knowing I couldn’t win a fight against him, I muttered “Control freak” under my breath as I followed. Ethan heard me. He stopped and turned around. “I’m your older brother. You think I can’t keep you in line?” I swung my backpack onto my shoulders, hopped on my bike, and took off. “We’re not even related! Mind your own business.” This time, Ethan didn’t chase after me. I knew I’d gotten under his skin again. My family and Ethan’s lived in the same apartment building, his family downstairs, mine upstairs. It was strange, really. Ethan’s parents were regular folks, working steady jobs with fixed salaries. But their son was incredibly bright, practically a genius. My parents were both partners at a law firm, courtroom champions. My grandpa was a renowned literature professor, and my grandma was a retired head teacher. Me? I was always at the bottom of the class, couldn’t even win a simple argument. When I was six, my mom and Ethan’s mom, Mrs. Peterson, had a whim. They took Ethan and me to get our IQs tested. The results: Ethan scored 130, a certified genius. I scored 80. The doctor mentioned potential developmental concerns, suggesting I might struggle. Mrs. Peterson looked at me with pity and told Ethan earnestly, “You have to take good care of your poor little sister from now on.” My mom, seeing the neighbor’s brilliant kid, was eager to latch onto him. She basically forced me to accept Ethan as my older brother right then and there. They might not have meant much by it, but Ethan took it seriously. Even at an age where he still occasionally wet the bed, he remembered his “mission”: To take care of me, his “slow” little sister. From that day on, it felt like I had a second dad. If the ages weren’t impossible, I’d almost suspect Ethan was secretly my father. 2 When I started elementary school, my parents’ careers were really taking off, leaving them little time for me. Mrs. Peterson downstairs would often bring me to her place. Back then, I really disliked Ethan. He didn’t talk much and always had a serious expression. He’d get annoyed if I didn’t study, annoyed if I didn’t eat properly. Honestly, I rarely saw him happy. Our neighbor, old Mrs. Gable, shrewdly commented, “He’s so young, but acts more serious than his own parents.” But despite his cold demeanor, his sense of principle was unbelievably strong. If he decided I needed to be asleep by ten, not a second later was allowed. Once, I went playing in the mud with classmates in a partially drained pond. When he found out, he borrowed a fishing net from someone nearby, scooped me up like a fish, and hauled me out. His strength and stern face scared the other kids in the pond into tears. Kids at school teased me, saying my mom had found me a “little husband.” I was so embarrassed and furious. During Ethan’s nap time, I took some watercolors and drew silly mustaches and devil horns on his face. The whole class burst out laughing. He just calmly wiped it off with a tissue. The moment he started wiping, I knew I was done for. After school, I hid like a mouse. I never expected my own parents to betray me. They practically bowed as they invited Ethan in, then dragged me out of the closet. Ethan had brought a box of watercolors and a stack of drawing paper. He sat at the table and watched me draw doodles for what felt like a day and a night. He said calmly, “Maya White, you like drawing so much? Go on, draw until you’ve had enough.” Later, I learned the term “calculating.” Looking back, it fit him perfectly. 3 It wasn’t until around the start of high school that I really began to like Ethan. At fifteen or sixteen, hormones were raging through the school. Crushes and early relationships were normal. As time went on, Ethan really started to stand out. He was remarkably handsome compared to the awkward teenagers around us. Back then, the girls in my class were obsessed with pop stars. Their yearbooks and notebooks were filled with pictures of idols with brightly colored hair. But gradually, they realized something: none of those idols were as good-looking as Ethan. They started acting like characters in teen dramas, giving Ethan love notes and fancy chocolates. Several times, I saw chocolates I wanted sitting on Ethan’s desk. I’d stare at them and ask, “If you’re not going to eat those, can I have them?” He wouldn’t let me. He returned all the letters and gifts to their original senders. On the way home from school, I’d argue with him. Why couldn’t he just take the free stuff? Returning it hurt people’s feelings. Ethan scolded me, “Maya White, you have no self-respect.” Maybe he was afraid I’d tattle to my parents, or start crying uncontrollably like I used to. Ethan walked into the corner store and bought a huge bag of assorted chocolates. He tossed it into my arms like feeding a stray dog. “Here, eat these slowly. Don’t touch chocolates other people give you.” I retorted defiantly, “Aren’t you ‘other people’ too?” He flicked my forehead with his finger. “I’m your brother. Would I ever try to harm you?” Ethan’s logic was seriously twisted. Were those girls who liked him trying to harm him? He was an expert at applying the ‘too much of a good thing’ principle to me. I ate that bag of chocolates over two days and ended up needing an emergency dentist appointment. After that painful lesson, I reluctantly brought the rest to school to share with my friends. Chloe Davis, munching on my chocolate, asked indistinctly, “Maya, do you think Ethan likes you? Why else would he give you so much chocolate?” I thought back over Ethan’s attitude towards me for the past decade or so. I shook my head firmly. “He’s less like a boyfriend and more like my dad.” Chloe clicked her tongue. “Your brain really is slow, isn’t it? Isn’t that exactly what they call a ‘protector’ type – the kind that acts like your dad?” 4 Chloe’s words stuck with me. Even though Ethan was harsh, everything he did was supposedly for my own good. Thinking about it that way, I realized I did depend on him. After all, since I was born, I’d spent more time with him than with my own parents. From the moment I could understand things, it felt like I’d unconsciously accepted it: I was meant to be with Ethan forever. So, even when he was strict with me, I took it gladly. Mimicking the other girls, I wrote Ethan a long love letter and slipped it into his desk. After school, while packing up, Ethan pulled out an envelope. He was about to return it out of habit, but then he saw the name on it. His fingers paused. My heart leaped into my throat. Finally, under my hopeful gaze, he put it in his bag. That evening, he called me up to the rooftop. I thought my romantic dreams were about to come true. Instead, he tore the letter into tiny pieces right in front of me. He said, “Maya White, are your grades perfect now? You have time to copy others writing love letters?” Among the shreds, I spotted the decorative washi tape I’d used to seal it. He hadn’t even opened it. When he returned letters to other girls, he at least managed a polite smile. With me, he was more ruthless than ever. I cry easily. When I’m hurt, the tears just pour out uncontrollably. But Ethan pretended not to see. He said coldly, “Go home and think about what you’ve done.” I knew for sure then: Ethan didn’t like me. I secretly vowed never to speak to Ethan again. Maybe this was the awkwardness of confessing to someone you know too well. The next day, trying to avoid Ethan, I left home half an hour early. Just around the corner, Mrs. Gable asked, “Maya, why aren’t you walking with young Ethan today?” A few steps later, Mr. Henderson, out for his morning walk, asked, “Hey kiddo, haven’t seen the Miller boy this morning?” Mrs. Diaz, coming back from grocery shopping, chimed in, “Maya, why are you out alone today?” I clutched my head and practically ran the rest of the way. What was I supposed to say? That I confessed my love, got rejected, and now we were enemies? But Ethan acted like nothing happened. He arrived at school right on time. Just like always, he brought me a bagel and the mushroom and swiss melt I liked. I glanced at it and threw everything into the trash can. 5 Ethan retrieved the breakfast from the trash and placed it back on my desk. “You can throw a tantrum, but wasting food is not okay.” Meeting his unusually stern gaze, I backed down again. In that moment, I felt a sudden wave of despair. I really didn’t have the luxury of acting like some novel heroine, running off to another country for weeks just to make the brooding CEO miss me. Just like now, no matter how much I sulked, when I went home, I still had to call him ‘Ethan’ or ‘big brother’. Looking back, the most rebellious thing I’d ever done was probably just sulking in secret. Then hiding, making Ethan find me, and then making him guess why I was mad. But he never guessed; he knew my patterns too well. Mad today, easily bribed with some candy tomorrow. I hated myself for being so predictable, but he’d always say it wasn’t my fault, because my IQ was only 80. The storm of the confession blew over quickly. Because we had high school entrance exams coming up, I temporarily shelved our feud for the bigger picture. Luckily, Ethan wasn’t petty. He was still willing to carve out precious time to tutor me. In the end, Ethan and I both barely scraped into the same Magnet High School. He was number one in the honors program; I was dead last in the regular track. When my parents saw my results, they treated Ethan to dinner three times in a row. I was left at home, stomach growling, surviving on ramen noodles. I thought life would just drift along like this. Ethan would continue being my unrelated but ever-present older brother. He didn’t like me, but at least for now, he didn’t seem to like anyone else either. Thinking about that brought me a sliver of comfort. But we were growing up, and things inevitably changed. Junior year, a transfer student arrived in Ethan’s honors class and immediately took the top spot in the grade rankings. As a struggling student myself, I wasn’t interested in their academic battles. I only noticed that Ethan, usually laid-back, suddenly got serious. He stopped walking to and from school with me, always leaving early and coming home late. I wanted to keep him company, but he said it wasn’t necessary, worried I wouldn’t get enough rest. During the mid-winter exams of junior year, Ethan caught up to the transfer student, tying with her for first place. Their homeroom teacher was ecstatic, happily predicting two Ivy League prospects from the class that year. My classroom was on the floor above Ethan’s. Afterwards, I often saw Ethan and the transfer student studying together in the hallway. The girl was elegant and composed. I’d seen her name on the ranking lists: Sophia Bellweather. 6 Chloe said they were dating. I didn’t believe it. Ethan was the least likely person to get into a relationship during high school. But they were always together, seemingly closer each day. Later, I noticed a little Stitch keychain dangling from Ethan’s backpack zipper. It looked familiar because Sophia had a pink Angel one (Stitch’s girlfriend). Ethan usually disliked cute things like that. Last year for his birthday, I gave him a pair of sneakers. As we were leaving the shoe store, someone outside was selling squishy stress toys. One was an ugly-cute, big-eyed monster that squeaked “love you” when squeezed. I bought one and secretly tucked it into the shoebox. I even planned my excuse: if he found it, I’d say it came free with the shoes. But unexpectedly, Ethan opened the gift box right in front of me. He glanced inside, then handed the big-eyed monster back to me. “I don’t need this. You can play with it.” Yeah, he was always mature and serious; he probably thought anything like that was childish. But now, this big-eared Stitch wasn’t childish? Hanging a keychain on his backpack wasn’t childish? Turns out, he just thought I was childish. Fingering the keychain on his bag, I asked Ethan if he and Sophia were together. He ruffled my hair. “You’re just a kid, what do you know?” My heart sank. Ethan was straightforward. Yes meant yes, no meant no. If he didn’t like something, he’d say it directly. Like how he rejected me years ago. But this time, he didn’t deny it. That was basically a confirmation. I hadn’t expected my first real encounter with Sophia to happen so soon.

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My fiancé’s brother, Mark, was in a horrific car accident. A steel pipe went straight through his lung. He was in the ICU, fighting for his life. And where was my fiancé, Ethan? Maxing out my credit card to throw a birthday party for his old flame’s dog. Panicked, I called him. His response was sharp, annoyed. “So I accidentally used your card for a bit of cash? Did you really need to make up some story about someone dying?” The last time I went looking for him, I found him and his old flame, Chloe, locked in a passionate kiss at a dog café. It was like he didn’t care at all that the person lying cold in the morgue was the brother who’d raised him, the brother he’d depended on for years. … When I got to the scene of the accident, Mark had just been loaded into the ambulance by the paramedics. A steel pipe was still gruesomely lodged in his chest. The sight shocked me to my core. A police officer approached me. “Family should follow the ambulance to the hospital. We’re investigating the scene now and will update you as soon as we know anything.” I nodded numbly, my body trembling as I climbed into the ambulance. Ignoring the shaking in my hands, I pulled out my phone and tried calling Ethan. Looking at Mark, unconscious and critically injured, tears streamed down my face. The line was busy. I called again and again. But even by the time Mark was wheeled into the operating room, Ethan hadn’t answered. A doctor approached me with consent forms. “Family needs to sign these immediately.” I reached for the pen, but the doctor stopped me. “It needs to be signed by immediate family.” Staring at the unanswered call on my phone screen, I felt a desperate urgency. I had no choice but to dial again. This time, finally, it connected. “Ethan, you need to get to the hospital right now! Mark was in an accident. He needs you to sign for surgery.” “Oh, you’re looking for Ethan?” A sweet, almost singsong female voice answered. I froze. It was Chloe, his old flame. “He’s helping me look for my dog right now.” Thinking of Mark, waiting, I couldn’t waste time questioning why Ethan was with Chloe. I just yelled, “Put Ethan on the phone!” A moment later, Ethan’s irritated voice came through. “What are you yelling about!” “Chloe’s dog ran off, so I’m helping her look for it. What’s the big deal? Can you stop being so controlling? We’re not even married yet.” My chest tightened, my nails digging into my palms. I fought to control my voice, tried to stay calm. “Ethan, I’m not joking. Mark was in a serious accident. He needs you at the hospital to sign consent forms…” He cut me off with a sneer. “Give it up, Maya. I already told my brother I’d marry you. What more do you want?” “You insisted on marrying me, used my brother as leverage, so you have to accept that I need… let’s call it emotional support elsewhere.” “I have important things to do today. Don’t call me again!” Ethan hung up abruptly, giving me no chance to say another word. I felt like my blood had turned to ice. A chilling cold seeped into my bones. Dragging myself over to the doctor, I begged him to start the surgery for Mark anyway. A nurse came out of the OR, saying Mark’s condition was too critical. The doctor just sighed heavily and went back into the operating room. I stood there, stunned, feeling like a thousand knives were twisting inside me. Ethan and I met in college, dated for five years. We were finally getting married, the date set for the eighth of next month. But then, Chloe suddenly came back to the country, and Ethan told his brother he didn’t want to marry me anymore. Mark had seen our relationship grow from the beginning. He refused to accept Ethan’s change of heart. It led to a huge fight between the brothers. And now, Mark was lying in surgery, and Ethan didn’t even believe me. I don’t know how I made it to the payment counter. “I’m sorry, the payment failed. Could you try swiping the payment code again?” The cashier’s voice snapped me back to reality. I tried several more times. Still declined. I almost never touched the savings in this account. I called the bank. They informed me that my entire balance had been wiped out half an hour ago. It was Ethan. 2 When I first met Ethan, he was just a broke kid. His parents had died young. It was Mark who raised him, working tirelessly to support him and put him through college. Back then, Ethan was sensible. He always worked part-time jobs to earn his own money, trying not to ask Mark for too much. Me? I grew up comfortably. With my parents’ support, I started my own small business early on and had considerable savings. After Ethan and I got together, I linked my bank card to his account. “Ethan, what’s mine is yours. Just use it.” At first, he refused. “I’m a grown man. How can I spend your money?” It took a lot of convincing before he finally agreed. “Okay, but when I make money, I’ll pay you back double.” I smiled brightly, my eyes shining as I looked at him. He gently stroked my head. Later, when he started his own business, he relied on support from both me and Mark to get by. It took him three years to become successful, a small business owner with his own savings. But I never unlinked my card. And lately, he’d barely used it. I called his number again. It was like he was waiting for it; he picked up instantly. “What, now you’re calling to chew me out for using a little bit of your money?” I couldn’t hold back my anger. “Ethan, Mark needs money for surgery! Transfer the money back to me, now!” Ethan chuckled lightly. “Is that it? Is he really having surgery?” I thought he finally believed me. Even though he couldn’t see me, I nodded. “Yes, really! Hurry up and send the money back, Mark he…” “Shut up!” Ethan’s tone was laced with mockery. “Stop acting, Maya.” “Didn’t you used to say I could spend the money on this card whenever I wanted?” “And now, just for a little cash, you’re making up all sorts of crazy stories.” I choked back my fury, my voice trembling, almost crying. “Ethan, it’s true! We can call off the wedding, I don’t care, but Mark can’t wait!” A cold laugh came from the other end of the line. “If he can’t wait, then let him die. Just bury him, problem solved.” I was shaking with rage. Ethan kept talking. “If it wasn’t for my brother pulling strings back then, your brother would have died years ago. Living these extra few years? He already got lucky!” The line went dead again. I felt like I’d fallen into an icy abyss. It took me a long moment to realize Ethan had misunderstood. He thought it was my brother who needed surgery. After five years together, I never imagined he could say something so cruel. Just then, my phone rang. It was my brother. When he heard about Mark’s accident, he immediately wired me a significant amount of money. After paying the medical bills, I saw Ethan had posted on social media. The picture was of a Golden Retriever wearing a party hat, sitting in front of a birthday cake. The background was unmistakable – they were at The Valencia, the most expensive hotel in the city. Even the cake was from the city’s most renowned baker. In the corner of the photo, I saw two hands clasped together. The woman’s hand wore a diamond ring – the engagement ring I had picked out. And Ethan’s caption read: 【Happy Birthday to Chloe’s Sunny! And happiness to my Chloe too 】 But Ethan, your brother is still in the operating room, waiting for you. While I was anxiously waiting outside the OR, the police found me. “Ms. Adams, regarding Mark Johnson’s accident, our preliminary investigation suggests it was caused by vehicle brake failure.” “Impossible. That car was just serviced three days ago.” 3 The words slipped out before I could stop them. I couldn’t believe the police’s findings. Ever since Ethan became successful, he’d actually been very good to Mark. Even when they argued, he made sure Mark’s car and anything else potentially dangerous was regularly maintained by professionals. I grabbed the officer’s arm. “Officer, there has to be more to this story.” The two officers exchanged a look. “Don’t worry, this is just a preliminary assessment.” “We will continue to investigate thoroughly.” I finally let out a breath of relief. After talking with the police, a long wait began. Late into the night, the light above the operating room door finally went out. The doctor emerged. “Hello, Mark Johnson’s surgery was successful, but he’s not out of the woods yet. He’s being transferred to the ICU.” Watching Mark being wheeled into the intensive care unit, I suddenly felt exhausted. I slid down the wall, sitting on the floor in a daze. My clothes were still stained with Mark’s blood. Pushing myself up, I hailed a cab, planning to go home and grab some clean clothes. It looked like I’d be spending the next few days at the hospital. I’d given up on Ethan. All I could do was pray that Mark would be okay. Mark wasn’t my biological brother, but he treated me like one. Ever since Ethan and I started dating, he treated me like his own little sister. So, no matter what, I had to take care of him. Waiting at a red light, I glanced out the window and a car caught my eye. It was my car. The car I bought when Ethan was just starting his business, to help him look professional. And right now, sitting in the passenger seat, was Chloe. The light turned green. Ethan sped off. “Driver, can you follow that car?” The driver gave me an “I got this” look and slammed on the gas. They drove to a resort hotel on the outskirts of the city and parked. I stopped a short distance away and watched, horrified, as they started making out. Ethan was tearing at Chloe’s clothes like a starved animal, her chest heaving up and down. My expression grew colder and colder. The cab driver glanced at the bouncing car in the distance, then awkwardly wiped his forehead. He turned to me, his eyes filled with sympathy. “Can’t trust a cheater, ma’am. Catching him in the act! Need any backup?” I couldn’t suppress the rage boiling inside me anymore. I could tolerate him seeing his old flame; fine, I wouldn’t marry him. I could tolerate him not believing me; I’d take care of his brother alone. But for Ethan to stoop this low… Using my car, deliberately, to do something so filthy, so disgusting, just to spite me. Furious, I reached for the door handle, about to get out, when my phone rang. It was my brother. “Maya, get to the hospital now! Mark… Mark’s not going to make it!” Using the last of my strength, I told the driver, “To the hospital, please. As fast as you can.” I had no energy left to confront Ethan. As their car disappeared from my peripheral vision, a wave of nausea washed over me. I gagged, trying to hold back vomit. And finally, I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I started sobbing. The driver handed me tissues, murmuring words of comfort. He thought I was crying because Ethan cheated. His voice faded into the background. I could barely hear him. My mind was consumed by thoughts of Mark. He was such a good person. My own brother had suffered from a rare disease years ago, getting weaker day by day. It was Mark who never gave up, searching relentlessly for doctors who could help. His job took him to many places, and eventually, he found the specialist who saved my brother’s life. I was eternally grateful to him. My brother considered him a true brother too. When Ethan and I first started discussing marriage, Mark had already prepared a house for us. He felt that as a woman, I needed security in a marriage. So, he bought another property just for me, putting only my name on the deed. “Sister-in-law,” he’d said, “you’re the best woman I know. This is my wedding gift to you. I wish you both happiness.” He was like my own brother, maybe even better. I couldn’t accept that he was just… gone. When I reached the morgue, all I saw was the figure covered by a white sheet. My body trembled uncontrollably. I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. My brother held me, tears streaming down his face too. A nurse looked at us with pity and sighed. “You should arrange to collect the body and handle the arrangements soon.” My phone rang. Shockingly, it was Ethan. I hesitated for a second, then answered without a second thought. Mark’s death was major news. Ethan absolutely needed to be told. I opened my mouth to speak, but sounds came from the other end first. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing… A woman’s moans. Rising and falling, loud and clear in my ear. 4 I gripped the phone so tightly I thought it might shatter. Just as I was about to hang up, I heard voices. “Ethan, are you really going to marry Maya? What about me?” Following a final grunt from Ethan, he chuckled lightly. “I can’t really disobey my brother’s orders.” “But don’t worry, I only love you. Even after we’re married, I’ll prove to my brother he made the wrong choice.” … I couldn’t listen to any more of their repulsive flirting. “Nurse, excuse me,” I asked, “Mark doesn’t have any other family. Can I sign to release his body myself?” She finally nodded. After signing the papers, as I was about to arrange for Mark’s body to be moved, my brother stopped me. “Maya, no matter what, you should tell Ethan.” I took a deep breath. I sat in the hospital corridor all night. It wasn’t until morning, as the sun began to rise, that I picked up my phone and called Ethan again. This time, there was no anger, no pleading in my voice. Just cold detachment. “Ethan, Mark has passed away. He’s being cremated tomorrow. Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He sounded groggy, woken up by my call, and clearly annoyed. “Are you nuts? Calling this early talking about cremation? How morbid.” His attitude didn’t faze me. “I’m asking you one last time. Are you coming or not?” “No! If someone’s dead, just cremate them already! What good would I do there? Is he going to magically come back to life? God, you’re annoying. Why don’t you just go die with him?” Before he could finish, I told him the location of the crematorium. This time, I hung up the phone. I was done expecting anything from him. Mark was like a brother to me. Even if Ethan didn’t show up, I could send him off myself. I would give him a proper, dignified farewell. My brother and I waited at the crematorium. Ethan never came. My brother drove me back to Mark’s house. I needed to sort through his belongings. “Maya, he’s gone. You need to be strong…” My brother’s voice cracked before he could finish. He turned away, covering his mouth. I went into the room alone. I hadn’t expected Mark to have prepared wedding gifts for Ethan and me so early. There was also a video. In it, he was smiling warmly, like a gentle spring breeze on a winter day. Comforting. “Maya, Ethan, when you see this video, you’ll already be married.” … “Brother wishes you a happy marriage. In the years ahead, you need to understand and tolerate each other.” “Especially you, Ethan. I watched you grow up. Don’t act like a spoiled kid all the time. You have to be good to Maya.” … I turned off the video, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t have the courage to watch anymore. Ethan and I were never going to get married. Among Mark’s things, I found so many items related to Ethan. Even his old school uniforms, awards he’d won – Mark had kept everything. A pang of guilt hit me. If Ethan didn’t come to Mark’s funeral, Mark would surely be heartbroken, wherever he was. After some thought, I took out my phone again and texted Ethan the time and place of the funeral service. This time, he replied almost instantly.

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My boyfriend had this childhood friend, the kind so possessive she practically wanted to move in and take over. She even secretly used his phone to post stuff on his feed just to mess with me. So, I went straight to his place, ready for a confrontation, and happened to see them walking into a hotel room together. “Yeah, hi, 911? I need to report prostitution going down.” 1. Ethan is ten years older than me. We’d been dating for a year, and this was my first time at his place. The second I walked in, I saw a familiar face: Ethan’s childhood best friend, Olivia. Olivia sat there like she owned the place, more like the lady of the house than I was. She knew everything – which room Ethan slept in, where the tea was kept, where the fruit knife was… I tried hard to ignore these details, reminding myself Olivia was just doing this deliberately to make me uncomfortable. But I couldn’t ignore the figure standing next to her. They were standing side-by-side in the kitchen, one chopping, the other arranging food on a plate. Olivia casually held out a hand, and Ethan naturally passed her a paper towel. When Olivia got up to go to the bathroom, he, without even looking, kicked the trash can out of her path. These ingrained habits, the kind etched into your bones – they don’t get that deep unless there was real history, real feeling there. As that thought hit me, I placed my hand, palm up, on his knee. He turned his head, “What’s wrong?” The real kicker? As he asked me what was wrong, he handed the orange he’d just finished peeling to Olivia. The clock on the wall chimed on the hour, a sudden sharp sound, like it was reminding me: showing up out of the blue is no match for a lifetime of history. “Ew, so sour,” Olivia complained, tossing the half-eaten orange back to Ethan. He caught it and casually popped a segment into his own mouth. In that moment, I felt like nothing more than a guest in this house. Watching the hosts flirt, so awkward I wanted to disappear on the spot. And I actually did just that. I stood up and walked out. Ethan chased after me, asking, “What’s wrong?” There it was again! What’s wrong? “Why don’t you ever ask Olivia what’s wrong?” “Because we’re so close, I don’t need to ask to know what’s up with her,” he answered instinctively. “Yeah, you two are so close. We’re not. So you have to ask me to find out.” I pulled my arm away and turned to stop him from following. “Since we’re not close, why are you even following me?” I couldn’t even count how many times we’d fought like this. And the reason was always Olivia. 2 Truth is, I was the one who shamelessly chased after Ethan. What did I see in him? He was rich, handsome, well-mannered… He was my boss. On my first day, we shared an elevator. It was love at first sight; he stunned me, and my heart was set. I had just graduated, full of youthful confidence. If you like someone, go for it. If you love someone, say it loud. He sat in his private office. I gathered all my courage and knocked on the door that stood between me and my pursuit of love. “Ethan?” He was looking down at some documents, didn’t even look up. “What is it?” “If it’s convenient, I’d like to ask you out to dinner tonight. If it’s really convenient, maybe we could grab a drink afterward. And if things are still convenient after that, my bed’s pretty big.” By the time I finished that sentence, Ethan’s face was beet red. After that day, I felt like I’d discovered an incredible secret: Ethan seemed surprisingly innocent, almost pure. Work the most serious job during the day, chat the most inappropriate things with the boss at night. One day, we both worked late, leaving the office together. “Let me buy you a coffee,” I offered. On the way, we ran into a drunk creep harassing a girl walking alone. I walked right up behind him, kicked him hard in the lower back, sending him sprawling. Before he could react, I drove my elbow into his back, then grabbed his hair and slammed his head onto the pavement. After the whole damsel-in-distress rescue played out, Ethan looked at me with a hint of awe. On the empty street, I handed him one of the coffees. “You were… pretty intense back there,” Ethan said, half-joking. I took a sip of my coffee, raised an eyebrow at him, and stepped closer, and closer. “I can be even more intense. Want to come back to my place and find out?” Direct, simple, blunt. Even that didn’t break through Ethan’s reserve. “It’s, uh, too late. Maybe… maybe next time,” he stammered. “No time like the present. Let’s go now.” 3 I grabbed his tie and pulled him towards my car. He started, “My car—” “Oh, right. Driver, turn around!” When he drove me to my apartment building, I stood in front of his car, arms crossed, waiting for him to get out. “Get out. Come up for a cup of tea before you go,” I insisted. “It really is too late. We both have work tomorrow,” he refused. “Fine.” I stepped away from the front of the car, moved to the side, and gestured for him to leave. My sudden change of heart clearly made him uneasy. He didn’t know whether to go or stay. “Chloe, what exactly are you trying to do? Can you just be clear?” Wasn’t I already being clear? “Forget it. You should just go.” Playing hard to get wasn’t my style, but knowing when to back off was key to making things last. I headed upstairs before he drove away, leaving him with a view of my retreating back, unclear and ambiguous. I’d just finished using the bathroom and washing my hands when the doorbell rang. “What, changed your mind?” I leaned against the doorframe, looking at Ethan, who had indeed come back. “Chloe, you have to admit, you started this,” Ethan said, looking at me with a touch of proud defiance. I nodded. I admitted it. In an instant, Ethan transformed, pouncing like a hungry wolf. From the doorway to the couch, then to the bedroom. The curtains fluttered in the breeze, a chill slipping into the blankets. I instinctively snuggled closer into his arms. “Boss, requesting a day off today.” Dating the boss definitely had its perks. He got up, got dressed, washed up, then kissed my forehead before reluctantly heading out the door. I thought after last night, Ethan would turn into a clingy, devoted boyfriend. But looking at my phone, utterly devoid of messages from yesterday morning until this morning, left me feeling a little lost. “Did I actually win him over, or not?” I was bummed… 4 It wasn’t until I got to the office that I found out Ethan had left on an unexpected business trip yesterday. “A business trip doesn’t mean you don’t even have time to send one text, right?” I stared blankly at my phone. Just then, Ethan’s Instagram feed updated with a new post: So glad I have you with me. The picture: A woman’s hand holding a wine glass, pointed towards Ethan, whose back was to the camera. “Hey boss,” I said to my direct supervisor, “I need to take some personal time. My man ran off with someone else. I gotta go deal with the other woman.” Amidst the sympathetic gazes of my colleagues, I marched off, full of righteous fury, heading to the battlefield. After landing, I went straight to the hotel. The front desk wouldn’t give me his room number, so I had no choice but to wait in the lobby, hoping to catch them. “Olivia, over here.” Ethan’s voice came from behind me. I turned around, thrilled, but then snapped my mouth shut as I processed what he’d said. The woman’s name was Olivia. And that Instagram post… unless he willingly let her post it, how else would it be there? All signs pointed to the distinct possibility that I was just a stand-in. A substitute lover? The rebound girl while he pines for his true love? Surely, I couldn’t be that pathetic? The woman named Olivia hurried towards him from another direction, beaming as she linked her arm through his. They walked off, laughing and talking, back to their room. “Yeah, hi, 911? Grand Hotel, room 702. There’s prostitution going on.” As the wail of police sirens grew closer, I stood outside the hotel entrance and watched them being escorted away by the cops. While they were being questioned inside, I sat waiting on a bench at the police station. When Ethan came out, I stood up to meet him. His eyes were red as he asked me, “Did you do this? Why would you do this?” I told him calmly, “If I had been the one knocking on that door, I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t have killed someone. With the police, at least you both get to live.” “Nothing happened between Olivia and me!” he explained frantically. “That intimate post on your phone, holding hands going back to the same room, a man and woman alone together late at night with no intention of leaving.” “Ethan, are you trying to tell me this is some kind of innocent, pure love story?”

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My father brought my aunt’s daughter home to raise. My parents showered her with affection, but I got nothing but beatings and harsh words. She personally pushed my mother down the stairs but framed me for it. My mother hated my guts, wishing every day that I would die. Finally, with a bitter laugh, I opened the window and jumped. 1. My head was shoved into a sink in the school bathroom. Water flooded my mouth and nose, and the feeling of suffocation washed over me. Ashley’s deceptively gentle voice scolded me. “Chloe, how could you pour hot water on a classmate?” “Let me teach you a lesson on Mom and Dad’s behalf.” Recognizing the voice, I fought back, breaking free from the girls holding me and shoving Ashley to the ground. She landed hard on the filthy floor, stunned for a moment before erupting in anger. “Chloe, are you asking for it?!” She scrambled up, grabbing my hair and yanking hard, making my scalp scream in pain. Fury exploded inside me. I spun around and slapped her hard across the face. She cried out, clutching her cheek in disbelief. “If you all want to play rough, I’ll play along.” I grabbed her hair and started dragging her towards a toilet stall. She whimpered and wailed in pain, flailing her arms and legs like a fish fighting for its life. The school toilets were disgusting, perpetually stained with brownish grime and slime. The other girls watched, frozen, as I forced Ashley’s face into the toilet bowl and hit the flush lever. She struggled to get up, but I held her down firmly. I whipped my head around and grinned at the onlookers. That smile silenced them instantly. Only the sound of Ashley’s choked pleas and struggles remained. Ashley trembled, her voice shaking, “Chloe, are you crazy?” In my past life, trying to please Ashley, I’d gotten used to never fighting back, never talking back. Now I saw that constantly backing down only made others bolder. When I’d had enough, I tossed her onto the floor. She coughed and gagged wretchedly, spitting out toilet water. She was shaking like a leaf, unable to even look at me. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please let me go…” she stammered, terrified. The other girls were horrified. They grabbed the shaken Ashley and practically crawled away in their haste to escape. Now, it was just me and Ashley. I smirked, walking slowly towards her. “Ashley, you’re going to regret this.” Her pupils contracted. She glanced around frantically, then grabbed a nearby mop and swung it hard, hitting me on the head. The metal clamp on the mop handle scraped my scalp. A thin trickle of warmth spread down from the top of my head. 2 My peaceful life shattered the day Dad brought Ashley into our home. She once threw Dad’s laptop into the bathtub. I rushed to pull it out. It contained important work files. A soaking like that would probably ruin it. The bathroom light cast Dad’s shadow long and menacing on the wall. His face was terrifyingly dark, veins pulsing at his temples. He slapped me so hard I fell to the floor. My cheek went numb, my ears rang, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Even then, I clutched the laptop tightly, afraid of damaging it further. Dad didn’t say a word, just snatched the laptop and left. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled up, head bowed, trying to explain, “Dad, I really didn’t do it.” He stopped, turned sharply, his eyes filled with disgust and irritation. “If it wasn’t you, who was it?” “Ashley?!” “How did I end up with something disgusting like you?!” His words hit me like ice water, making me shiver uncontrollably. Ashley stood behind him, a smirk playing on her lips, looking down at me with contempt. “Daddy, she’s a bad kid. Why don’t you believe me?” My eyes stung, my vision blurring. But my words only enraged my father further. He grabbed my arm, dragging and shoving me out the front door. The biting cold wind hit me. I curled up, shivering, but couldn’t escape the chill. My head throbbed. I touched my forehead – I was running a fever. Forcing my weak body up, I pounded on the door. “Mom! Dad! Please let me in!” My voice was hoarse, but there was no answer. Eventually, the neighbors couldn’t stand it anymore. Only because of what people might say did my parents finally take me to the hospital. After that, I never dared say anything bad about Ashley again. No matter how I tried to explain, my parents always assumed the worst of me. It was like I was the filthiest piece of trash in the world. In the moment my head spun from the mop hitting me, Ashley seized the chance and ran off. “Chloe?” A shadow fell over me, making me jump instinctively. 3 I looked up. Mr. Davis, my teacher, came into view. “Who did this?!” He looked frantic, quickly helping me up. No matter how much he pressed me, I kept my mouth shut. What good would telling him do? It would just worry him for nothing. Besides, my parents practically wished I would drop dead. In my past life, the bullying got so bad I begged my parents to let me transfer schools. My father’s face was cold, his voice irritated. “Have you ever thought about yourself?” “Why does everyone pick on you? Is there something wrong with your character?” The air felt heavy, suffocating. I struggled to breathe, digging my nails into my palms. My silence left Mr. Davis frustrated. He sighed, “I’ll take you to the hospital.” The cut from the metal strip was risky; it could get infected. After hours at the hospital, I lay exhausted in a bed. Mr. Davis looked at me with complex emotions in his eyes, a thousand unspoken words seemingly condensed into a single sigh. “Your parents are… a bit busy. They might not be able to make it.” Hearing this, my chest felt crushed by a heavy weight, making it hard to breathe. I thought I didn’t care anymore. So why did my heart still ache so much? I fought back tears, my voice steady. “It’s okay. I can manage on my own.” “Let me call in some backup for you!” “Huh?” I was stunned. The sadness vanished instantly. Mr. Davis rubbed his stubble awkwardly. “Something my son taught me.” A man in his fifties, trying to be hip. It was kind of endearing. I stayed in the hospital for a few days, then texted Mr. Davis I was being discharged. [Mr. Davis: Is someone picking you up?] [Me: My parents are coming.] After sending the message, I got a cab and left the hospital alone. The moment I walked into the house, a cup flew straight at my face. “Running around with trash all day, and you still have the nerve to come back?!” 4 I dodged just in time. Shattered glass sprayed everywhere, stinging my cheek. My mother glanced at me blankly, indifferent to my father’s outburst. Ashley quickly poured Dad a glass of water. “Please don’t be angry. Chloe’s still young, she just needs guidance.” I couldn’t be bothered watching this family drama unfold. As I turned to go to my room, Ashley stopped me. “Chloe, please don’t hang out with those people anymore. Let me see your injury.” Ashley looked at me with feigned concern, reaching for my cheek. Seeing her phony act made my stomach churn. I gagged slightly and pushed her hand away. My mother raised her hand high and slapped me across the face. “Chloe, why are you such a bitch?” “Is this how you treat your sister’s kindness?!” The slap made my cheek throb numbly. My ears rang, and I tasted blood at the corner of my mouth. I vaguely remembered how gentle my mother used to be. She’d call me her sweetie. If I fell and scraped my knee, she’d tear up with sympathy. Until Ashley came. She pushed my pregnant mother down the stairs. Mom lost consciousness right there. When she came back from the hospital, the baby was gone. “Chloe kept telling me she didn’t want a baby brother or sister,” Ashley had said, tears in her eyes. “Please don’t blame Chloe. Blame me. I should have watched her better.” Ashley stood in front of me protectively, shielding me with her arms. The tenderness in my mother’s eyes turned to hatred. No matter how much I explained, she didn’t believe me. One night, going to the bathroom, I saw light spilling from under my parents’ bedroom door. My mother was curled up in my father’s arms, sobbing heartbrokenly. She grit her teeth and hissed, “I really want to kill that child!” I stood frozen, my mind blank. When I came to, I was back in my room. My parents hadn’t noticed me. Or maybe they had, and just said nothing. Letting the fear fester inside me. “You’re not my mom. My mom wouldn’t hit her own child.” I looked at my mother, my eyes filled with sorrow, hoping to see a flicker of regret or pity on her face. She stared back at me, saying word by word, “Of course I’m not your mom. I could never give birth to a monster like you.” With that, she took Ashley upstairs. She gently squeezed Ashley’s earlobe, her eyes full of affection, every gesture showing care. Ashley smiled prettily, puffed her cheeks, and stuck out her tongue playfully. As they entered the bedroom, Ashley popped her head back out and gave me a sweet smile. She mouthed silently: [You lose again, Chloe.] Lose? As for my parents, the moment I jumped from that window, any real bond was already severed. Any display of emotion, any plea for sympathy now, was just a tactic to make them lower their guard. Let them think I was still the same fool. After Ashley confirmed my return-to-school date, she deliberately twisted my relationship with Mr. Davis. Walking through the school hallways, I was met with pointing fingers and whispers. Boys looked me up and down suggestively. One swaggering guy blocked my path in the corridor, sneering, “Guess the old guy wasn’t much fun, huh?” 5 “Want to try me instead?” I frowned. “Excuse me, but Mr. Davis and I have a purely professional student-teacher relationship.” The surrounding crowd burst into laughter. I spotted Ashley in the crowd and forcibly pulled her out. “My dear sister, why don’t you set the record straight?” Ashley looked annoyed, but quickly changed her expression when everyone looked at her. She frowned, sighed, and said a few vague things. “Chloe often stays out all night. Mr. Davis called the other day saying Chloe was hurt.” “I never thought things would get twisted like this.” Ashley looked guilty, then bowed deeply towards me, staying bent over for a long moment. “Chloe, this time it’s my fault.” With Ashley publicly bowing and apologizing like that, the other students started defending her before I could even react. “Ashley already apologized, what more do you want?” “Mr. Davis said she was hurt… wonder where she was hurt, haha.” “You can’t blame her sister for misunderstanding. Anyone would worry with a sister like that.” Outwardly, I looked wronged and angry, but inside, I felt a growing excitement. Let it blow up. The bigger the better. I was going to make them pay dearly! The student commotion got so loud it reached the school administration. The school wanted to sweep it under the rug, but parents wouldn’t have it and reported it directly to the district office. In my past life, Mr. Davis got involved when I was being bullied, and the bullies’ parents ganged up and reported him, costing him his job. I didn’t want Mr. Davis to suffer because of my messed-up situation. Ashley escalating things, especially hinting at an inappropriate relationship, really set the other parents off. Under pressure, the school administration identified the source of the rumors. Ashley and the students spreading the malicious gossip were all given formal warnings and had to read apology letters at the next school assembly. When my parents heard their precious daughter was in trouble, they rushed to the school. My mother hugged Ashley tightly, gently stroking her back. “Mom, it’s all my fault.” “Sweetie, how could it be your fault?” Ashley’s eyes welled up, tears clinging to her lashes, looking especially pitiful. The school staff witnessed this, then glanced at me standing alone, shaking their heads slightly. My mother asked worriedly, “Ma’am, my daughter got a formal warning. Will this affect her college applications?” “Technically no, it won’t prevent Ashley from applying to college.” My mother breathed a sigh of relief. Then she turned to me, walked straight over, and kicked me hard in the stomach.

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She was always so sweet. But only when Dad was around. The second he left for work, she’d make me get on my knees and bark like a dog. I wouldn’t get to eat until she decided I’d done it well enough, and even then, it was just their leftovers. Her slimeball son, Kevin, would just stand there, clapping and yelling, “Yeah! Go, doggy, go!” like it was the funniest show on earth. But Dad never believed she was anything but kind. She was so ‘petite and pitiful’ in his eyes. And this ‘petite and pitiful’ woman actually wanted to be my mom. My name is Sarah Miller, I’m 16, and I just started high school. I used to dream about high school, imagining all the fun and freedom. But so far, it hasn’t brought me any joy. I’ve felt lonely for a long time, especially after Mom passed away. Dad travels a lot for work, so he’s barely home. “Sarah, aren’t you leaving yet? You’re going to be late!” Linda hurried me along. She’s the housekeeper Dad hired to look after me. “I know,” I mumbled, dragging myself out the door. She only ever spoke to me that nicely when Dad was actually home to hear it. Walking into school felt like stepping onto an alien planet. Strange faces everywhere. I felt like a total outsider, watching everyone else laugh and joke around, feeling completely invisible. “Hey, I’m Kevin. You’re the new girl, right? Heard your family’s loaded,” a boy said, popping my lonely bubble. He was Linda’s son. “Hi, I’m Sarah,” I managed a small smile. “So, Sarah, heard you guys are rich?” Kevin’s friendly tone vanished instantly, replaced by a nasty, jealous edge. “Does that matter?” I asked, confused. “Nah, just figured rich kids are different,” he sneered. Later, during passing period, I overheard a girl whispering to her friend, “Did you hear about Sarah Miller? Kevin said she acts all high and mighty, thinks she’s better than everyone ’cause her dad has money or something.” “Really? I thought she seemed okay,” the other girl replied. Comments like that just made me feel even more out of place in this new school. And things were only going to get worse… 2 When I got home that day, the air felt different, heavy with something unfamiliar. “Sarah, I want you to properly meet Kevin, Linda’s son,” Dad said, giving me an awkward smile. Linda stood beside him, beaming. “Hey, Sarah. Guess we’re family now,” Kevin chuckled, looking way too pleased with himself. Family? What was he talking about? “Maybe you should start calling Linda ‘Mom’,” Dad suggested suddenly. “Why? I already have a mom,” I blurted out, reeling from the shock. What was Dad thinking? Mom hasn’t even been gone that long. That night, as soon as Dad left for a work dinner, I heard my bedroom door creak open. It was Linda. “Why is your room such a pigsty? Didn’t your mother teach you how to clean up after yourself before she died?” Her face twisted into a snarl, like a hyena defending its food. “Who said you could come in here? My room isn’t messy! And don’t you dare talk about my mom!” I shot up from my chair, yelling. Hearing me shout, Linda stalked towards me, her expression getting uglier by the second. Slap! Her hand cracked across my face, hard. Pain exploded on my cheek. Shock and fear washed over me, and I choked back tears, clutching my face. “Remember this,” she hissed, leaning in close. “From now on, I’m the one in charge of this house!” I couldn’t hold back anymore. Sobs ripped through me. Slap! Slap! Two more times, just as hard as the first. “You be a good little girl and listen,” she spat, “or I’ll skin you alive, you worthless brat!” She threw the words at me like stones, then stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The next day, I noticed some of my personal things were missing from my room – some jewelry Mom gave me, a picture frame. Panic tightened my chest. I suspected Kevin took them. When I saw him later, I tried to ask, “Did you see the stuff on my desk?” The memory of last night made my voice shrink. “Some things are gone.” “Why would I want your junk, ‘sis’?” He looked me up and down, a nasty grin spreading across his face. That evening, I was on the phone with a friend. “…if she hears me, she’ll kill me… I’m so scared…” “Sarah, calm down,” my friend whispered back. “Just be careful when your dad’s not there. Maybe just try to stay out of her way? Look, my mom’s calling me, gotta go.” She hung up. Suddenly, I felt a chill. I turned around slowly. Linda was standing in my doorway, her face dark and furious. “What were you just saying?” she asked, her voice dangerously low, a terrifying smile plastered on her face. “I… I wasn’t saying anything,” I stammered, trying to look calm, but my hands were shaking uncontrollably. “You watch yourself, you motherless little thing.” Linda shot me one last venomous glare and turned away. The sharp click-clack of her heels echoed down the hall, sounding like a countdown, urging me to just disappear from my own home. 3 Lying in bed that night, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hear Mom’s voice in my head: “Sarah, no matter what happens, always try to be a good person.” But reality was making it harder and harder to hold onto that. At school, kids avoided me like I had the plague. Whispers followed me everywhere: “Didn’t you hear? Kevin said Sarah Miller’s mom died and nobody taught her basic hygiene. She stinks, like she never showers or changes her socks.” Just then, Kevin walked over, a smug look on his face. “Hey, Sarah. How’s life treating you lately?” “Why are you doing this?” I trembled, fear and anger warring inside me. “What? I’m your big brother now, Sarah-bear. Just looking out for my little sister, anything wrong with that?” he replied, practically strutting. After school, I walked home with a heavy heart. As soon as I opened the door, I heard Linda’s voice, dripping with false concern, talking to Dad. “… she’s been bullying poor Kevin! Honestly, that child is so ungrateful.” “Why don’t you ask your precious son what he’s been doing? Let’s hear his side and see who’s telling the truth!” I finally exploded, emboldened by Dad’s presence. “Sarah, what is wrong with you?” Dad interrupted, his voice sharp with anger. “Linda has been nothing but good to you, practically like a mother! How can you speak to her like that? Didn’t we raise you to have manners?” Behind Dad’s back, Linda turned her head slightly and gave me a sickeningly sweet, triumphant smile. In that moment, I felt completely alone. Utterly hopeless. Later that night, hiding by my window trying to wipe away tears without making a sound, I saw Linda downstairs in the yard. She was talking quietly with some man I didn’t recognize, their heads close together. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but something felt wrong. A tiny spark ignited inside me. Maybe… maybe the time to fight back was coming. The whole world felt like it was laughing at me, mocking me. But Mom’s words echoed again: Be strong. Keep going. I was starting to understand, though. When the world turns its back on you, sometimes fighting seems pointless. One person can’t take on everyone. People are complicated, dark, full of secrets. Linda was the perfect doting girlfriend and stepmom-to-be in front of Dad, but I knew the monster hiding underneath.

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Never in a million years. Did I think I’d have a shotgun wedding. Especially not to a guy I’d only met once. Ethan Hayes had a cold look on his face. “As soon as Grandpa’s fully recovered, we’re getting a divorce.” I nodded. Fine by me. Except, later… The road to divorce took a seriously weird detour. 1 When we got back to his place. Grandpa Hayes, who was supposedly knocking on death’s door. Took one look at the marriage certificate. And instantly perked up like he’d mainlined espresso. He downed two whole bowls of rice in one go. Started rambling about how he’d be holding his great-grandchild soon. I was stunned. Was this like, that legendary last burst of energy before the end?! Didn’t look like it, though. The feeling of being totally scammed washed over me. The guy next to me, Ethan, looked like thunderclouds were gathering over his head. After a long silence, he finally ground out, “Grandpa, whose idea was this?” Grandpa Hayes paused, mid-bite, and didn’t hesitate to throw the blame. “Chloe’s grandpa.” Meeting Ethan’s glare, I put on my saddest face. “I had no idea. I’m a victim here.” He put down his chopsticks, looking down at me. “Since Grandpa’s fine, tomorrow, we get divorced.” I nodded quickly. “Okay.” So, I’d been a married woman for less than a day. And I was about to be single again? That was fast. Way too fast. Just then, Grandpa Hayes clutched his chest. Slumped onto the floor. Looking like he couldn’t breathe. Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose, looking utterly exasperated. “Grandpa, that trick won’t work.” Grandpa Hayes’s face went pale, his expression genuinely pained. He gasped for air, unable to speak. Ethan and I exchanged a look. Was he… not faking it this time? Grandpa Hayes ended up in the hospital. And stayed there. For a whole week. The divorce talk was put on hold. The day before he was discharged, I went to visit him again. Just as I reached the door of the VIP room, I heard him talking to the doctor. The doctor was teasing him, “You’re pretty good at faking it, huh?” Grandpa Hayes laughed heartily. “Good enough to fool ’em, right?” The doctor replied, sounding slightly annoyed, “You almost gave me a heart attack.” Then he added, “Ethan asked me several times about your condition. Almost blew your cover.” What did I just hear??? Faking… sick? For a week? And the doctor helped him fool the family? Can I report this hospital? “Miss Miller, what are you doing just standing there? Come on in.” Mrs. Davis, the housekeeper, called out, totally exposing me. Grandpa Hayes and the doctor both whipped their heads around to look at me. The door, which had been slightly ajar, was now wide open. Our eyes met. Three pairs of them. The atmosphere turned incredibly awkward. Grandpa Hayes pretended to be calm and started chatting with me. From his ‘war buddy’ days with my grandpa, to them starting their own families. Then about setting up a childhood engagement promise, and how my aunt had refused it. None of this was news to me. I practically knew it by heart. Finally, he said, the childhood promise my aunt didn’t fulfill, Ethan and I had to complete it. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I peeled an apple, handed it to him, and stated my opinion clearly. “Grandpa, nobody does arranged marriages or childhood engagements anymore. This isn’t the dark ages. People date freely now. Neither Ethan nor I can accept that kind of thing.” If it hadn’t been because Grandpa Hayes was supposedly dying last time… Ethan and I would absolutely never have gotten that marriage license. Thinking about it now, it was just ridiculously absurd. Like, peak absurdity. 2 But Grandpa Hayes insisted it was a promise between him and my grandpa, their dying wish. They couldn’t wait much longer, being ‘halfway in the grave’ already. If the families couldn’t be joined by marriage, they couldn’t ‘rest in peace’. Talk about dramatic. In the end, I caved. “Okay, we’ll try,” I said. If it really didn’t work out down the line, Ethan and I would split amicably. Grandpa Hayes reluctantly agreed. Then, he immediately told me not to blow his cover. And that I needed to play along when necessary. How was I supposed to play along? My acting skills were nowhere near his Oscar-worthy performance… By the time Ethan showed up, it was pitch black outside. He hadn’t been in the room long. Before Grandpa Hayes shooed him out. Told him to take me home so I could rest. Before I left, he gave me a look full of grandfatherly love. “Chloe, honey, if this boy bullies you, you tell Grandpa. Grandpa will break his legs.” “Grandpa, sounds like you’re feeling much better, so…” Ethan turned to look at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. “We can get divorced tomorrow.” Grandpa Hayes’s voice, which had just been booming with energy, instantly became weak. “Ohhh, my leg, it hurts so bad. Ouch, my back, it’s so stiff…” The sudden change was almost comical. I followed Ethan into the elevator. After hesitating for a long time, I cautiously asked, “Divorce tomorrow?” The man beside me lowered his head slightly. His warm breath ghosted across my face. “We’ll wait until the old man chills out a bit, then we’ll divorce.” Chills out? The moment divorce was mentioned, he immediately stopped chilling out. Looks like getting this divorce was going to be tough. After Grandpa was discharged. Ethan started sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. He did this for two nights straight. Then the man snapped. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Stood by the bed. Staring at me menacingly. “Chloe Miller, let’s switch.” I clutched the blankets tightly, shaking my head frantically. “No way.” Next thing I knew, he bundled me up in the blanket and tossed me onto the floor. My temper flared. I rolled up my sleeves. And launched myself at him, wrestling ensued. In the chaos, I… scratched… his… face. To keep the peace, I volunteered to sleep on the floor. And that’s where I slept for the better part of two weeks. Until one day, I overslept. Still groggy, I forgot to put away my bedding on the floor. Result: Mrs. Davis confiscated it. That evening, I looked miserable. I begged Ethan to figure out a way to get me some bedding. The man just looked up, wearing a helpless expression. I asked him darkly, “Are you sure you won’t help?” He didn’t even lift his eyes from his book. I jumped onto the bed, pulled his comforter over myself, covering up completely. “Either we share the bed, half each, or you go sleep in the study.” After two seconds of silence, the man spoke softly. “I’ll sleep in the study.” “Good luck with that,” I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. Don’t get kicked back here by Grandpa. Turns out, his luck wasn’t great. Less than an hour later, he was back. Ignoring my stifled laughter, he silently grabbed another blanket. Then warned me fiercely, “Don’t cross the line.” So childish. Should we draw a line down the middle? I declared confidently, “Don’t worry, I sleep like a log. I never cross the line.” When morning came, I discovered I hadn’t just crossed the line. One of my legs was… draped over his stomach. The man was practically hanging off the edge of the bed, about to fall off. Just as I was about to silently retract my wayward leg. He tumbled onto the floor. His eyes, lazy and still heavy with sleep, met mine. Is it too late to start making excuses? “Let me explain…” His deep voice simmered with irritation. “Chloe Miller, does your face hurt?” I gave a tight-lipped smile. “Nope, I’ve got thick skin.” 3 The next day, I worked late, until ten. Grandpa Hayes was worried about me. So he specifically sent Ethan to pick me up. The man, looking thoroughly reluctant, leaned against the car door. The look he gave me was like I was his mortal enemy. “Seriously? I’m still technically your wife, you know.” I reached for the passenger door handle. The jerk pulled me back. “Sit in the back.” I snorted. “Like I care.” On the way, my best friend Riley sent me a voice message. “Chloe! Weekend BBQ, remember? That guy you used to crush on, Ryan? He’s gonna be there! Come early!” The volume was maxed out, crystal clear. Ignoring Ethan completely, I cheerfully replied to the message. “Got it! I’ll be there looking fabulous.” … The night before the weekend BBQ. Ethan specifically informed me that I needed to accompany Grandpa Hayes for a check-up the next day. My hand, applying a face mask, froze. Was he deliberately trying to get back at me? “You go with him. I have plans.” The man slowly drawled, “Grandpa specifically asked for you. If you don’t want to go, you can tell him yourself.” Then he turned and left. Tell Grandpa myself? That I couldn’t go to his check-up because I had plans to see the guy I used to crush on? Ughhh… I couldn’t bring myself to say that. The next day, I ended up going to the hospital with Grandpa. It was supposed to be a check-up. But really, it was just a cover. To fool Ethan. Which was why Grandpa had insisted I come. I sat bored out of my mind on a bench outside. Grandpa was inside the office, chatting happily with that doctor. Looking at the BBQ pictures Riley was sending. My heart was weeping. Ryan looked as handsome as ever. So handsome you could spot him from the back in a crowd… After Grandpa went home. Riley said there were more plans for the evening. I rushed over immediately. Only, before I even got into the private room. I bumped into Ethan right outside the door. We made eye contact. And both chose to completely ignore each other. 4 At the dinner table. The atmosphere was lively. Amidst the clinking glasses, I got a little tipsy. Ryan Walker suddenly asked me, “Chloe, you still remember me?” My mouth, busy with crab legs, mumbled indistinctly, “Ryan, who could forget? Back in the day…” What followed was basically my drunken TED Talk. I could talk for half an hour straight without pausing for breath. In my hazy state, I grabbed his collar, complaining pitifully, “I even wrote you a love letter back then! My first ever love letter, and it just vanished without a trace, like into a black hole…” The more I thought about it, the more aggrieved I felt, tightening my grip on his collar. Everyone started teasing, demanding Ryan give an explanation. Ryan chuckled, reaching out to steady me as I swayed. “So, can I get a chance now?” I patted my head, looking extremely serious. “No chance.” Everyone was surprised. “Why not?” “Because I’m already married…” Riley quickly clamped her hand over my mouth and pulled me next to her. “Chloe’s drunk! Don’t take her drunken ramblings seriously.” I struggled free, pointing a finger at Ryan. “I really am married! My husband is…” I spun around twice. Pointed vaguely east. “He’s right next door!” I don’t remember much after that… When I woke up, my head was pounding. Ten missed calls, all from Riley. My gut told me I was screwed. Sure enough, Riley’s voice on the message was practically vibrating with excitement. “Chloe Miller, last night, you… became… a… LEGEND.” I rubbed my aching temples, asking weakly, “What did I do? I don’t remember?” She calmly told me to watch the video she sent. Oh great, someone filmed the whole thing? Who has that kind of time? The video started when Ryan asked, “Can I get a chance now?” Right up until— I pointed east, “My husband is right next door.” Then, amidst everyone’s doubtful murmurs. I whipped out my phone and furiously tapped away. Called Ethan Hayes. And said, “Honey, come get me, I’m drunk.” Silence on the phone line. Everyone looked at each other. Just as they were about to laugh at me. The man himself knocked on the door of the private room.

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The world was freezing over, and my boyfriend, using a vacation as an excuse, wanted to bring his entire family to stay in my newly bought mountain cabin. His dad was a slob, spitting everywhere and wiping his nose with his hand. I tried to patiently explain proper hygiene, but his mom attacked me with a needle, saying I had no manners and didn’t respect my elders. They kicked me out onto the porch, refusing to let me eat and telling me I needed to learn some manners. My boyfriend’s younger brother played the nice guy, deliberately bringing me undercooked green beans, causing me to get food poisoning with violent vomiting and diarrhea. He then ratted me out to his family, saying I was trying to steal food and he had been so smart to catch me. My boyfriend wouldn’t even listen to my explanation, calling me a manipulative bitch. They beat me and kicked me, not caring if I lived or died, and threw me out of the house, telling me to go find food. I froze to death, full of anger and resentment, right outside my own front door. I woke up with a jolt, staring at the TV screen showing a low-temperature warning. I grabbed my phone and called my boyfriend. This time around, I was going to make his whole family pay. 1 “The National Weather Service is predicting a major cold front coming in tomorrow, the strongest of the year so far.” The familiar weather report played on the TV. A wave of heat rushed through me, my chest burning with rage. After a brief but intense bout of pain, I fell to the floor, gasping for air. I opened my eyes, exhausted, to find myself lying in the living room of my mountain cabin. Unlike the image I remembered, filled with trash and grime, the room was clean, with a soft, new sheepskin rug. I had been reborn, ten days before the disaster. My parents bought this cabin for me. It wasn’t huge, one bedroom, two bathrooms, a living room, and a kitchen, but it was quiet and peaceful, with a gorgeous view of the mountain stream through the massive picture windows. My parents were always busy with work, so they tried to make up for it with material things. They bought this place because it was beautiful, secluded, and had all the latest amenities. I came up here for vacations and to relax whenever I could. But little did they know, it would become my tomb. The hunger I had felt before dying flooded my brain. I ran to the fridge, grabbed a chilled ham hock, and started stuffing it into my mouth, washing it down with a bottle of ice-cold Coke. I didn’t even care about the cold air blasting from the refrigerator. Compared to the arctic freeze that had killed me, this was practically a sauna. Just as I was indulging in my newfound happiness, a familiar ringtone, his ringtone, made me instinctively hide the food. That sound was like the Grim Reaper himself, bringing back memories of my hellish life. Last time, my boyfriend, Chad, had called me wanting to bring his family to my place. [“Babe, I heard you bought a cabin up in the mountains. Can my family come stay for a few days?”] [“You know, my parents are getting older, and they want to take a vacation. They think hotels are too expensive and would like to come stay at your place.”] [“You don’t want to disappoint them the first time they meet you, do you?”] I had been so head-over-heels for Chad that I didn’t think twice before agreeing. Looking back, I realized how messed up it was. How did he know I had bought the cabin? And how did he know the address? I had only told my best friend, Megan, who worked at the same company. We lived in the same apartment building, carpooled to work every day, and went out for drinks and movies on weekends. A couple of times Megan had wanted to come with me to the cabin, but it was my secret escape, so I always made excuses. Megan acted a little hurt, but she never said anything. Chad and I had gone to the same college. We ended up working in the same city after graduation. I was blinded by love. Thinking about it now, the warning signs were there all along. He’d show up at my office to take me to lunch. Whenever I got back to my apartment after lunch, Megan was always out. She’d make up all sorts of excuses for not being home. One time I was leaving to grab a coffee and overheard Megan on a voice call with a guy, and the voice sounded a lot like Chad’s. She looked up and saw me and panicked. She stammered and said it was a friend from years ago. Looking back, their acting was terrible. Those two had been hooking up behind my back for who knows how long. 2 Now, remembering those times, I hated myself for being so clueless, for not seeing through their lies. Last time, to make a good impression on his parents, I paid for their tickets and even drove to the bus station to pick them up. I didn’t want them to get lost, so I made sure I got all of their dietary restrictions and preferences. I acted like a servant catering to a master, trying to make them happy. But that family of entitled jerks treated me like I was beneath them. They ate my food, used my things, and constantly criticized everything I did. If they were unhappy about something, they threw a fit. When the cold wave hit, they kicked me out of my own house because I didn’t have enough food prepared for five people, they told me I wasn’t allowed back until I found more food. No matter how much I pounded on the door and screamed for help, they wouldn’t open it. Meanwhile, they were laughing and carrying on like nothing was wrong. [“It doesn’t matter how much money she has, my son tricked her. You have good taste, she is dumb enough to give him money and sex. You should marry Megan.”] [“If we let her join our family, she’ll probably give birth to a dumb grandkid.”] Outside, I shivered from the cold and from the anger that was building inside. Chad had been cheating on me with Megan all along. They just saw me as a walking ATM. I wasn’t going to run away this time. I had been betrayed and tortured by the people I trusted the most, and I had died of starvation and exposure. They were going to experience the same pain. I forced myself to calm down and answered the phone, acting excited. [“Really? Your whole family is coming?”] My hand was shaking, my whole body trembling with rage. [“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure your parents are happy!”] I heard faint praise in the background. [“My son is so awesome! Just like his old man! He can just pick up any girl and she’ll provide for them.”] I pretended not to hear it and kept up the perfect girlfriend act. [“When are you guys coming? I can’t wait to meet your parents for the first time.”] Chad, emboldened by his family’s flattery and my obvious eagerness, became even more arrogant, sure that he had me completely under his thumb. [“We’ll be there in nine days. You better be ready, you hear? My parents already think of you as their daughter-in-law.”] I agreed, sounding like a dutiful wife. After hanging up, I grabbed a banana and pretended it was Chad. I chopped it into pieces. After releasing my anger, I mixed the chopped fruit with yogurt and lay down on the soft couch, watching trashy TV and eating. In this familiar, safe place, I drifted off to sleep. It was quiet and peaceful. I woke up when the sun filled the living room with golden light. The long-lost feeling of comfort made me wonder if the apocalypse had all been a nightmare. But then I looked at my phone, and saw the disaster warnings. My pain had been real. The cold wave was coming, bringing power outages, no running water, and freezing temperatures. This wasn’t a joke. Luckily, I had nine days to prepare before Chad and his family arrived. This time, I wouldn’t let them get away with anything. 3 The weather was getting colder, and the streets were mostly deserted. The supermarket was even quieter than usual; people weren’t worried and weren’t stocking up. After all, the weather report only called for a cold front. Nobody expected an apocalyptic freeze. I grabbed two shopping carts and headed straight for the frozen foods. Every kind of frozen food imaginable – dumplings, soups, noodles – anything that was easy to cook. I also grabbed long lasting fresh vegetables. When I was a kid we would save vegetables like this to eat in the spring. Everything went into my cart. I didn’t forget the snacks! Anything that looked good, I tossed into the cart. The cashier was in shock. If I hadn’t been paying for everything and acting normal, she probably would have thought I was robbing the place. After buying about two months’ worth of supplies, I told her I was throwing a big party and needed all this food. I paid extra to have the grocery store deliver it to my house. At the same time, I hired a construction crew to do some rush work on my cabin. The security system was already state-of-the-art. My parents had it installed because I was living alone. The main purpose of this construction was to install hidden cameras around the house. The most important part was the basement. I planned to live in the basement during the disaster. It had been built to shelter from storms, so it was very safe. The insulation was much better than in the main house. The basement would be warmer and use less energy. The basement had several exits, all hidden and disguised. Nobody would ever find them. If something went wrong, I could escape quickly. I didn’t care about the basement’s looks; I just wanted it done fast. I moved all my furniture, toys, collectibles, and cosmetics down there. I also installed a space heater and a wall of monitors so I could keep an eye on everything happening in the house. The passageway leading from the house to the basement was specially camouflaged. Nobody would find it except me. 4 Nine days later, Chad and his family were supposed to arrive at the cabin. I lay back on the lounge chair in the garden, soaking up the sun. It would be a while before I saw it again. My phone rang. [“Where the hell are you?”] I made my voice sound confused and frantic. [“What’s wrong, baby? Why aren’t you here yet?”] I swirled the wine in my glass and lounged in the chair. [“Where’s your house? The address you gave us is in the middle of nowhere! Are you messing with me, Megan?”] I bit back a laugh. [“Aren’t you on Peach Tree Lane? That’s where my house is.”] Chad was livid. [“Are you crazy? You wrote PINE Tree Lane, which is half a mountain away from Peach Tree Lane!”] I heard a chorus of angry voices on the other end of the phone. [“What kind of idiot did you pick up? She can’t even get the directions right.”] [“Chad, when you get there, smack her a few times to teach her a lesson.”] I ignored the angry accusations and pretended to be sorry. [“Oh, no! You need to turn around and come back! It’s going to get dark soon and you’ll have to spend the night on the mountain.”] I hung up, leaving them stranded in the middle of nowhere. Knowing they had to hike for hours in the cold and damp mountains to find a ride made my dinner taste extra delicious. It was pitch black, and I thought they were going to be stuck in the mountains all night. Then the caretaker called. On the road to my cabin, I had built a small, temporary cabin and hired a caretaker to register all visitors. I paid an actor who doubled as a bodyguard. I expected this family to be a handful. When I got there, they were covered in frost, their noses bright red, shivering and stomping their feet. I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from turning up. I almost burst out laughing. I lowered my head and put on a look of concern and regret, running to meet them to cover my glee. After composing myself, I looked at them with a face full of guilt. [“Aunt, Uncle! I was waiting for you all day! Why didn’t you call me when you got here?”] Chad saw me and came at me, his face red with anger. [“You stupid woman! How could you write down the wrong address? We’ve been hiking forever! I froze my ass off!”] The bodyguard had been waiting for this. He grabbed Chad’s arm and squeezed it hard. Chad screamed. [“Who do you think you are, putting your hands on my boss?”] The bodyguard was huge, six-foot-five and 250 pounds. He had a deep voice and a menacing presence. [“If my boss loses a hair on her head, you and your family are done for in this godforsaken place.”] The bodyguard stepped back and stood in front of me, staring Chad down. Chad rubbed his aching wrist, swallowed hard, and took a step back. I hid behind the bodyguard, looking upset. [“I didn’t mean to do it! I’m not good with directions. I missed you so much! I kept heating up dinner, waiting for you and your parents to arrive.”] Chad knew he couldn’t lay a hand on me. There was dinner waiting. He grudgingly accepted my apology. [“It’s a good thing you know what’s good for you. Take us to eat. We’ve been starving.”] I forced a smile and led them to the cabin. Because it was a family meal, I had the bodyguard take a break in the guardhouse. They hadn’t eaten all day, and I didn’t want to waste the special meal I had prepared.

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We were arguing in the car when the crash happened. My wife, Olivia, died instantly. By the time I woke up in the hospital, she’d already been cremated. Guilt ate me alive; I felt it was all my fault. I took care of her parents faithfully until they both passed away. But at their funeral, I saw someone who looked exactly like her. After some digging, I discovered the truth: the car crash was faked. She staged her death to ditch me and run off with her college dreamboat. When she found out I was investigating, she lured me to a mountain lookout and, when I wasn’t looking, shoved me off the edge. I blinked, and suddenly I was back in the car, back on that day, right before the argument. This time? If she wanted to play dead, I’d make sure she stayed that way. For good. 1 “Honey, I was thinking maybe we could go on a trip tomorrow? Like camping?” Olivia, my wife, suddenly draped herself over my arm, a complete flip from her usual icy demeanor. I stared at her, thrown by this unexpected warmth. In the four years we’d been married, Olivia had always kept me at arm’s length. If I suggested a vacation, she’d claim she was a homebody, only to turn around and hit the beach with her old college buddy, Mark. If I tried staying home to keep her company, she’d complain about needing “personal space” and tell me to leave her alone. Even intimacy was rare; she always seemed resistant. That’s why we still didn’t have kids. I’d always chalked it up to her personality, figuring enough care and affection would eventually thaw her out. So, when Olivia excitedly suggested this trip, I agreed without a second thought. I even called my best friend, Chris, practically bragging that I’d finally melted her frozen heart. But seeing me lost in thought, she instantly pulled her arm away, her face hardening. “What? You don’t want to go?” The flash of disgust in her eyes hit me like a ton of bricks. I finally got it. She was completely fed up with me. “I’d love to go,” I said carefully, “but your parents just got here. We can’t just leave them.” Her parents had arrived a few days earlier, supposedly to see how their daughter was doing. “Oh, don’t worry about us!” my mother-in-law chimed in, bustling in from the other room. “If Liv wants to go, you two should go. We’ll still be here when you get back.” Her eagerness felt… suspicious. Like she knew about the fake death plan all along. I nodded slowly. “Alright then. I’ll run to the grocery store, grab some things for you guys. Sorry to leave you hanging for a couple of days, but we’ll treat you to a nice dinner when we get back.” Relief washed over both their faces as I agreed. Downstairs, I didn’t head straight for the grocery store. First, I swung by an electronics shop and bought a tiny body camera, clipping it discreetly onto my hiking backpack. Then, I called Chris. He’s a big-shot investigative reporter. “Be near Eagle Crest Pass tomorrow morning,” I told him. “Trust me, there’s a huge story breaking.” He sounded skeptical but agreed to be there. Next stop: the pharmacy. I picked up some prescribed stomach medicine and some strong sleeping pills. When I got back from the grocery run, I found them all laughing and chatting cozily. The moment they saw me, the smiles vanished. I ignored it. “Mom, Dad, got all the groceries. I’ll prep some meals for you now, so you’ll have food ready for tomorrow and the day after.” My father-in-law, who’d made a bit of money in some small business years ago, always spoke with an air of superiority. “Now, Leo,” he started, “remember, no MSG when you cook. Plenty of vinegar, though. And make sure those greens are cooked until they’re mush…” His wife elbowed him lightly. “I don’t really care for your cooking, Leo,” she added, trying to sound polite. “Always seems a bit… off. But I suppose we’ll manage while you’re gone.” I swallowed my irritation and cooked anyway, making sure to label everything carefully. “Mom,” I said, pointing, “this is for tomorrow, this is for the day after. Don’t mix them up.” “Some of this stuff spoils quickly,” I added pointedly. “Could give you an upset stomach if you eat it on the wrong day.” At the mention of stomach trouble, my father-in-law grumbled some more, but thankfully, he seemed to register which food was for which day. 2 We hit the road early the next morning. I’d deliberately oversalted the breakfast I made. Olivia, driving, started complaining almost immediately. “Can’t you do anything right, Leo? Even making breakfast… way too much salt. No wonder Dad says your cooking sucks.” I calmly handed her an open bottle of water. “Sorry about that, honey. Here, drink some water.” She gulped down half the bottle and handed it back. “Hey, the mountain road up ahead gets tricky,” I offered. “Want me to take over driving?” She stiffened instantly, suddenly defensive. “No, I’m fine. I feel like driving today.” I just nodded. Any lingering shred of hope I had for her, for us, finally dissolved. We pulled into a rest stop halfway up. She told me to go dump the trash while she stayed in the car, making a call. I walked a good distance away, then switched on the listening device I’d planted earlier. “Okay, listen,” her voice came through, sharp and businesslike. “Be ready at Eagle Crest Pass. Splash plenty of fake blood around – make it look convincing. Got it?” Pause. “And put that fake rock prop right in the middle of the road. I’ll drive straight into it. Make sure you get good photos.” Another pause. “Don’t worry, you’ll get paid well once this is done.” Silence, then another call. “Mark? Hey! It’s happening soon. We’ll finally be together. Did you remind your uncle to get that death certificate ready? Just hand it directly to the guy who comes with me… Leo.” Pause. “Yeah, the cremation place is all set. Someone’s waiting to handle things on that end.” Another pause, her voice turning syrupy sweet. “Mark, baby, we’re almost there. God, if it wasn’t for that settlement money that idiot got, I would never have wasted my time on him.” In the previous timeline, right after her “death,” Mark had shown up with a bogus IOU for ten million dollars he claimed she owed him. Drowning in guilt and egged on by her parents, I’d sold my house and handed over every penny I had. God, I was such a fool back then. I waited until she hung up, then walked back to the car. She held out an already opened carton of milk. “Here,” she said, trying to sound considerate. “Drink this. You barely touched your breakfast; don’t want you getting hungry on the road.” I took the milk and, under her watchful, expectant gaze, drank the whole thing. Joke’s on her. I was the one who packed the car. I’d swapped her doctored milk with a perfectly normal one hours ago. 3 I sent a quick text to Chris: Eagle Crest Pass. Get ready. If you see anyone suspicious setting something up, film them discreetly, then call the cops. With everything in motion, a strange calm settled over me. Still, looking at the woman I’d loved, or thought I loved, for so many years, knowing how this would end… a flicker of regret, maybe pity, sparked inside me. I just watched her quietly for a moment. She noticed my gaze and recoiled. “God, stop looking at me like that,” she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain. “It’s disgusting. Like you’ve never seen a woman before.” “Honestly, Leo, you’re just… pathetic. No ambition. I genuinely can’t stand you.” After I got that settlement money, all I wanted was to relax, enjoy life, spend time with family. But in her eyes, that translated to pathetic. My gaze turned cold. “Then why did you marry me, Olivia? If you didn’t love me, why stay with me?” “Because you wouldn’t leave me alone!” she spat back. “Clinging like some pathetic lost puppy! I only stuck around because I felt sorry for you!” Felt sorry for me. Right. Sure, I pursued her. Hard. Dropped a fortune doing it – expensive bags, designer clothes, fancy dinners at places I couldn’t really afford. She never said no, never even hinted she wasn’t interested. Now I was the pathetic one? I let out a long sigh, picking up the water bottle I’d given her earlier. It was nearly empty. “Okay, okay, my bad,” I said, handing it to her. “Here, finish this. Calm down.” She shot me a sideways glare but took the bottle and drained the rest. I watched her closely. Her eyelids started to droop. She looked like she was fighting sleep. Time was running out. “Honey,” I said gently, “maybe I should drive now? You look tired. Eagle Crest Pass is just up ahead.” We were heading to a campsite high in the mountains. All the turns and passes looked similar up here; it was easy to get confused if you weren’t paying close attention. The mention of “Eagle Crest Pass” jolted her awake. “I’m perfectly fine driving!” she snapped, suddenly alert. “Why are you so insistent on taking over? Don’t you trust my driving?” She was picking a fight, trying to replicate the scenario from the last time, trying to get me out of the car so she could stage the accident. “That’s not it,” I said, feigning helplessness. “I’m just worried you’re tired.” “Oh, I think you don’t trust me! God, you’re such a worrier, always nagging. I’m not made of glass, Leo!” “And remember that hospital project investment I told you about? Mark’s project? You hesitated! So useless!” Mark’s hospital venture. I knew it was shady, probably skirting the law, but Olivia had pushed, so I’d sunk over a million into it. Lost every cent. Afterward, Olivia blamed me, claiming I didn’t invest enough. I glanced at the clock. Past noon. Her parents would have likely eaten their lunch by now. The lunch I’d prepared. “Just get out! I don’t want to look at you!” she yelled. We were on a winding mountain road, miles from anywhere. No chance of catching a cab. But she didn’t care. I looked at her one last time. Her eyes were slits, struggling to stay open. “I… alright,” I stammered, playing my part. “Just… be careful driving, okay? Eagle Crest Pass is right around the bend.” “Get out!” she screamed. The car screeched to a halt. I opened the door and stepped out. The mountain road was deserted. Just me, the wind, and the tiny red light blinking almost imperceptibly on my backpack strap. She didn’t know. Eagle Crest Pass wasn’t this turnoff. It was the next one. 4 I tossed the empty water bottle she’d drunk from into a roadside trash bin, then quickly called Chris. The second I hung up, a deafening BOOM echoed from up ahead. Thick black smoke billowed into the clear mountain air. I sprinted forward. The car… or what was left of it… was completely engulfed in flames, already burning down to a skeletal frame. I dropped to my knees on the asphalt, forcing out gut-wrenching sobs. Soon, sirens wailed in the distance. Someone must have called 911. An ambulance arrived, police cars right behind them, quickly sealing off the mountain road. They loaded Olivia’s… remains… and me into the same ambulance. At the hospital, the official verdict came quickly: severe burns, deceased upon arrival. An autopsy would be required. Tears streaming (or so it seemed), I nodded my consent. Then, I immediately sought out her dear friend, Mark. “Mark,” I choked out, playing the distraught husband. “I don’t know anyone here… the doctors… they said they need to do an autopsy on Olivia… I…” Mark looked genuinely startled to see me conscious and walking around. According to their plan, I should have been passed out cold somewhere. He fumbled for his phone, dialed a number. It rang and rang, unanswered. He looked flustered. “Call her parents,” he instructed me curtly. I made a show of dialing their number several times. No answer. Mark looked increasingly uneasy, but he stuck to the script. He produced a folded document. “Here,” he said, handing it to me. “Death certificate. Signed.” This meant no autopsy. He couldn’t risk them finding the sleeping pills still in her system. If they found that, I’d be implicated too. 5 After arranging things with the crematorium staff – specifically, the contact he mentioned – Mark turned back to me. “Okay, the funeral home is expecting you. Just take her straight there.” He seemed hesitant, reaching as if to pull back the white sheet covering Olivia. I quickly stepped in. “Just… straight to cremation?” I asked, feigning confusion and grief. “Don’t they need to examine the body or anything? Maybe I should check back with that coroner…” Mark’s hand froze. He clearly didn’t want anyone looking too closely. “Just go!” he snapped, impatient. “Do what I told you. Take her to Henderson at the crematorium. Give him this.” He thrust the death certificate into my hand. Heart pounding, but keeping my hand trembling, I took the certificate and headed for the crematorium. Just as instructed, I found the guy named Henderson and handed him the paperwork. He scanned the death certificate, then glanced grimly at the body bag on the gurney. His brow furrowed deeply. He reached for the phone on his desk.

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Spring Break, and the old college group chat suddenly blew up. Jessica Miller was bragging, practically shouting through the screen: “Guess what? I’m engaged to Brandon Prescott! You know, the eldest son of the Prescott family? This weekend, I’m going to the family estate to meet everyone, get the whole official welcome. Get ready for wedding invites soon!” Everyone immediately started kissing up to her, blowing smoke like crazy. Then, like clockwork, they ganged up to tag me: “Unlike some people, who not only kiss up to their advisors but probably sleep with them too.” I just scoffed and didn’t reply. It was the same old garbage. All because I accidentally walked in on her getting way too cozy with our married academic advisor, she flipped it and spread rumors that I was the one having an affair with him. Pathetic. Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from Arthur Prescott himself, the patriarch of the Prescott dynasty: “Ma’am, my grandson’s fiancée is visiting the estate tomorrow to be formally introduced and added to the family records. We’d be honored if you could join us.” Yeah, nobody ever believes it. That the most senior member of the Prescott family, the one who literally holds the pen for the family registry, the one sitting on billions, is a twenty-two-year-old college student. Me. … The moment I stepped out of the Rolls-Royce Mr. Prescott sent for me and stood before the grand entrance of the ancestral home, I tilted my head back, looking up at the old stone archway. Walking inside, I headed towards the back gardens. But then, from a secluded spot deep within the old wooded area near the edge of the property, I heard… sounds. Soft moans. My curiosity piqued, I crept closer, quiet as a mouse. Leaves rustled in the breeze, and through a gap, I saw them. My eyes widened. I stared hard at the woman. It was Jessica, looking flushed, wrapped around some guy I didn’t recognize. They were all over each other. Her eyes met mine. She instantly shoved the man away. She froze, frantically smoothing her clothes, then shot me a look so full of venom it could curdle milk. Then they both scrambled away. I was confused, but Mr. Prescott’s future granddaughter-in-law was arriving today. I decided to keep quiet for now. A little while later, as I was about to enter the main house where the family gathers, I noticed a forgotten broom lying near the entrance path. I bent down to pick it up. As I straightened and walked into the main hall, I was met with bursts of laughter. I looked up, and my eyes locked with Jessica’s. I frowned slightly. Jessica blinked, then her eyes raked over me from head to toe. She smirked at her gaggle of friends clustered behind her, then crossed her arms and sauntered towards me. She glanced pointedly at the broom in my hand, then back at my face. “Well, well,” she sneered. “Look who it is. Our esteemed student body president, moonlighting as a cleaning lady at the Prescott estate. And here I thought you were so high and mighty.” Her friends behind her burst into mocking laughter. The sound grated on my ears. My nails dug into my palms. “What are you doing here?” I demanded, keeping my voice low. A flicker of pure nastiness crossed Jessica’s face before one of her friends jumped in. “Jessica is going to be the future Mrs. Prescott, you idiot. This is the Prescott family home. Naturally, she’ll be your boss soon enough.” Another one linked arms with Jessica, practically dripping fake sweetness. “Oh, Jessica, I wish I had your luck! Marrying into the Prescott family… all that money and status…” Jessica soaked it up, a smug little smile playing on her lips. I dropped my gaze, stepping around them towards the main room. I couldn’t resist a cold chuckle. “He must be blind then,” I muttered, “ending up with someone like you.” Suddenly, a hand clamped down hard on my arm. “What did you say?! Did I say you could leave?” Jessica blocked my path. Her friends quickly surrounded me, trapping me in the middle. I couldn’t move. Before I could react, someone grabbed my hair from behind, yanking me backward. As I struggled, Jessica kicked me hard in the back of my knee. My leg buckled. I crumpled, landing hard on my knees on the polished floor. She crouched down in front of me, gripping my chin, her fingers digging in. A cruel smile spread across her face. “Still sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, aren’t you? Seeing things you shouldn’t see, saying things you shouldn’t say. You just never learn.” 2 I thrashed, trying to get away, but Jessica violently shoved me, sending me sprawling onto the floor. She planted her high heel squarely on the back of my hand, the sharp point grinding into my skin. Pain shot up my arm. I could feel the skin break. Jessica’s face was twisted with malice. She placed a hand protectively on her stomach, smiling sweetly. “You know, if you’d just told me you were working here as a cleaner, I could have put in a good word for you.” Summoning all my strength, I shoved upwards with my free hand. She stumbled backward, momentarily losing her balance. Her friends gasped and rushed behind her, cushioning her fall. Jessica looked genuinely shaken for a second. Painfully, I pushed myself up. Blood dripped from my hand onto the pristine floor. One of her friends charged forward, kicking me hard in the stomach. I gasped, doubling over, and fell to the floor again. Pain washed over me. Tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision. “You little bitch!” Jessica shrieked, grabbing a fistful of my hair. “This baby is the future Prescott heir! Are you trying to kill me? Is that it?” She started slapping me, hard, across the face, again and again. My mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. My ears were ringing. I looked up at her, managing a weak, knowing smile. “Prescott heir? Are you so sure about that?” That hit a nerve. It struck the core of her insecurity. Jessica’s grip loosened slightly. She spun around, trying to regain her composure, projecting false confidence. “Don’t you dare spread lies! This baby is a Prescott!” I slowly, shakily, got to my feet again. I laughed softly. “Why so defensive? I never said it wasn’t.” Her friends exchanged uneasy glances. “You think everyone’s as disgusting as you?” Jessica spat, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Going after married advisors? You’re just trash.” She was dredging up the lie from last year. The Photoshopped pictures she’d plastered all over the campus network. The university, desperate to protect the advisor’s reputation, had pinned it all on me, leaving a permanent black mark on my record. Thinking about it made my chest tighten with fury. My eyes found Sarah Chen, standing nervously on the edge of the group. I grabbed her arm, my voice rising. “Sarah! You were right there with me! Tell them the truth!” Sarah lowered her head, trembling. “Sarah, please,” I begged, my voice softer now. “Forget about last year. I just need you to tell the truth now. Give me that much.” I looked at her, hope flickering inside me. But then Jessica sidled up to Sarah, leaning in and whispering something in her ear. Sarah finally lifted her head. The look she gave me was… unreadable. Troubling. My stomach clenched with dread. Sure enough, when Sarah turned to face the others, she squeezed her eyes shut and yelled, “I saw her! I saw Ava sitting on the advisor’s lap!” Jessica let out a triumphant, ugly laugh. I just stood there, stunned. A bitter, hollow smile touched my lips. 3 Jessica gestured to her friends. They closed in on me again, grabbing at my clothes, shoving their phone cameras right in my face. My cries of pain and humiliation only seemed to fuel their amusement. Before I could process what was happening, someone grabbed the broom from near the entrance and swung it hard, hitting me across the back. I tried to fight back, to push them away, but I was outnumbered and weak. I squeezed my eyes shut, overwhelmed by shame and helplessness. I heard a sharp intake of breath, then the whistle of the broom swinging down again. But instead of hitting me, someone threw themselves in front of me, taking the blow. I twisted my head. It was Sarah, her face pale. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. I shoved her away forcefully. “What kind of act is this now?!” I yelled, tears finally breaking free and streaming down my face despite my anger. Jessica snatched the broom back, her face contorted with rage, and lunged at me again. The blow landed hard. I choked, spitting a spray of blood onto the floor. Suddenly, one of the household staff, an older woman, rushed over. She bowed slightly, wringing her hands. “Miss, please, please stop hitting her!” Jessica grabbed the woman by her uniform collar. “You better think carefully who you’re crossing,” she hissed. “You piss me off, and you won’t have a job here much longer.” The housekeeper looked at me with pity, then clutched something in her pocket – her phone? – and scurried back towards the main house. Just then, a sleek Aston Martin pulled up to the front entrance. The first person out was Jessica’s fiancé, Brandon Prescott. He respectfully opened the back door. A man in his sixties, radiating authority and vitality despite his age, stepped out. Arthur Prescott. Jessica saw them and immediately switched gears, pressing a hand to her mouth in mock fragility. “See?” she whispered loudly to her friends. “That’s the father of my child. The sole Prescott heir.” Her friends oohed and aahed, showering her with more fake praise. She glided towards Brandon, pausing beside me to shoot me a venomous look. “You just wait,” she whispered. “Brandon won’t let you get away with this.” She practically collapsed into Brandon’s arms, dabbing at dry eyes. “Honey, you came just in time! They almost killed me and the baby!” Brandon’s chest puffed out. He glared around furiously. “Who dared touch you?” he roared. Jessica burrowed her head into his chest, a tiny, triumphant smile hidden from his view. She clutched her stomach, leaning heavily on him. “Brandon,” she whimpered, “my stomach hurts so much.” Her friends immediately pointed at me. “It was her! She pushed Jessica to the ground!” Brandon’s icy gaze fixed on me. He strode over and planted his foot firmly on my shoulder, pinning me down. “Who the hell gave you the nerve?” he growled. His presence was overwhelming, radiating power and menace. Behind him, the older Mr. Prescott tapped his cane impatiently on the ground. His voice was stern, commanding. “Brandon! What is this behavior? Right at the entrance?” Brandon shot me one last glare before reluctantly removing his foot. Jessica immediately turned to the grandfather, playing the victim again. “Grandpa, she almost killed your great-grandchild!” Mr. Prescott patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll make sure justice is served. But we have more important matters to attend to right now.” A strange feeling washed over me. I struggled to lift my head, meeting Mr. Prescott’s eyes. My voice was hoarse. “Did you invite me back here just so I could be publicly humiliated?” The moment the words left my mouth, Mr. Prescott’s cane slipped from his grasp and clattered onto the stone pathway. His face went slack with shock. He stumbled towards me, his body trembling. He knelt, peering closely at my bruised and bloody face. Then, he gasped and collapsed backward, sitting heavily on the ground. “M-Ma’am,” he stammered, his voice choked with disbelief. “Ma’am!” Brandon quickly picked up the cane and rushed to his grandfather’s side, helping him up. “Grandpa? What’s wrong?” Mr. Prescott snatched the cane back and, without warning, swung it hard against Brandon’s legs. Brandon yelped and buckled, falling to his knees right in front of me. “You blind fool!” the old man roared. Then, Arthur Prescott, head of the Prescott dynasty, bowed his head low before me, his shoulders shaking. Tears streamed down his face. “Ma’am,” he choked out, “it’s my failure… my failure in raising him… letting this animal hurt you… Punish me, Ma’am. Whatever you see fit… I won’t object…”

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My livestream got yanked. Again. And again. And again. My agent, Brenda, let out a long sigh over the phone. She told me not to worry about the stream for now, said she’d booked me a spot on a reality show. Oh, and Jessica Miller was going to be on it too. Brenda reminded me our statuses were worlds apart now and basically told me not to cause any trouble for her. Jessica Miller? You mean my dear “best friend” who stole my senior thesis project, flipped the script to frame me for plagiarism, and single-handedly nuked my acting career? Heh. How exactly should I act to make this long-overdue reunion truly memorable? 2 “Rural Roots” was the country’s first big “slow-living” reality show. The main goal was to showcase country life and boost the local economy. The meeting spot was the entrance to Harmony Creek village. I was the last one to arrive. As I got closer, I heard Jessica’s sickeningly sweet voice drifting over. “Please don’t be upset, sir,” she was cooing to someone. “Maya probably lives far away; I’m sure she didn’t mean to keep us all waiting.” There it was. That familiar tone. God, brings back memories. Before the other person could even respond, I beat her to the punch. “The call time set by the production team was 8:50 AM. It’s currently 8:25 AM. I arrived at the designated meeting point within the specified time. What exactly did I do wrong?” I paused, then added, “And ‘Maya’? Ms. Miller, are we pretending we’re close now?” Jessica choked on her words. She was so used to the usual Hollywood dance of fake niceties and backstabbing, she clearly didn’t expect me to just call her out directly. But, true to form, the professional two-face switched tactics instantly. She sidled up to me, eyes glistening like she was about to cry. “Maya, are you still mad at me? I… I just cared so much about my work back then, I couldn’t control myself, I just had to tell the truth…” She even tried to grab my hand, but I snatched it away. Beside her, some other male guest, Kevin something, shot me a dirty look. “Jessica, don’t blame yourself. It’s not like she has any right to be mad after plagiarizing.” Jessica kept up her act, pretending to “defend” me. I was about to let him have it when I saw my assistant behind the camera making a frantic throat-slitting gesture at me. Right. Keep it together for the cameras. Just then, a cool voice cut in. “When do we start filming in the village?” Someone nearby immediately scrambled. “Right away, right away.” A guy got out of a black SUV. Even with a baseball cap pulled low, you could tell he was seriously good-looking. He gave a curt nod to the group, a general greeting, and then just headed straight into the village. The camera operator assigned to him hurried to follow. I remembered my assistant briefing me last night – there was supposed to be a newly famous, award-winning actor on this shoot who wasn’t exactly Mr. Congeniality. Ethan Shi. That must’ve been him. 3 The first segment of the show was called “Honest Work.” Everyone had seen the production notes, but when we got to the actual location, we all just stood there, stunned. Before us stretched what looked like an ocean of green, endless fields of cornstalks reaching as far as the eye could see. Nothing but corn. Someone let out a groan. “Don’t tell me we have to harvest all this.” Instant drama for the cameras, perfect. While everyone else was taking in the “scenic view,” I turned to Jessica, lowered my voice, and smirked. “Dare you?” Jessica glared back at me. “Who’s afraid of who!” Before she could even process it, I grabbed her arm and dragged her right in front of the main camera. “Ms. Miller just challenged me to a corn-husking contest!” I announced brightly. “We need you all to be witnesses! We agreed that whoever loses has to wear pig ears and a nose for everyone to see. So please, keep us honest, folks!” Jessica finally realized she’d been played. The smile on her face nearly cracked, but she managed to keep her voice soft. “Maya, stop messing around.” She tried to pull her arm away, putting some force into it. Nice try. Like I’d let you break free after all those years of Taekwondo practice. The production team, loving the potential for drama and content, was more than happy to let us have our little competition. They even marked off two separate sections just for us. Normally, on these kinds of shows, the guests don’t have to do much real labor once the crew gets enough footage. Now, suddenly forced into this contest, Jessica didn’t show anything on camera, but behind the scenes, she shot me a few venomous looks. Pfft. Like looks could actually hurt me. The competition started mid-afternoon. We were decked out in full sun gear, heading into the cornfield under the blazing sun. Jessica quickly fell behind. Before long, I heard a cry from behind me. I turned just in time to witness Jessica’s dramatic collapse, like a delicate flower wilting to the ground. Everyone rushed over, and she was quickly whisked away to a local clinic or hospital. Suddenly, the filming location was almost empty, just a few scattered crew members left. I glanced towards the far end of the field. The A-list actor, Ethan, was either deaf or just completely unfazed. He was still husking corn, working away like a diligent old workhorse. The assistant director eventually said they had enough footage. I dusted myself off, waiting for the slightly-delayed movie star. We both ended up climbing onto an old farm truck. The thing clattered and banged down the dirt road for maybe fifty yards before sputtering to a stop. Out of gas. Of course. Resigned, Ethan and I hopped off the truck and started walking back towards the village, him slightly ahead, me trailing behind. I had no intention of striking up a conversation. But then he spoke first. “I really liked the princess.” “What?” I asked, confused. He paused for a few seconds. “The little princess from the fallen kingdom.” I froze. He was talking about the very first movie I ever did. I still remember the headlines after that film came out. “The most soulful young actress of the century.” “A natural talent blessed by the gods.” … But all of that vanished after the plagiarism scandal, like a drop of water falling into the ocean, gone without a trace. I leaned in closer to him, whispering, “You’re a huge star, Mr. Shi. We don’t really need to do the whole fake ‘mutual admiration’ thing, do we?” My sudden closeness must have startled him; he stumbled back. Instinctively, I grabbed his arm to steady him, but somehow, my momentum carried us both sideways, and we ended up stumbling right into a muddy patch beside the road. Seriously??? On the walk back, neither of us bothered bringing up our earlier topic. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I could have sworn I detected a flicker of something like disappointment in Ethan’s expression. What did he have to be disappointed about? When we finally trudged back into the village, covered in mud, there was Jessica. Dressed in some kind of flowy, vaguely traditional-looking dress, sitting serenely in a little gazebo in the middle of the courtyard, sipping tea. Looking for all the world like a picture of perfect tranquility. Drinking tea, the little snake. Tsk tsk. “Ethan, did you fall?” Jessica gasped, immediately grabbing a towel from nearby and rushing over, intending to wipe the mud off him. Ethan sidestepped her smoothly. “No need. Give the towel to Maya.” And with that, he went straight into the house assigned to him. Jessica’s hand, holding the towel, hung awkwardly in mid-air for a few seconds before she remembered the cameras. She turned towards me, forcing a smile that was pure venom underneath. “You wouldn’t actually try to give me your towel, would you?” I muttered, keeping my voice low. Jessica leaned in close, her smile fixed, but her voice was ice. “A Z-list streamer who belongs to doing thirst traps online, now trying to climb the ladder on a reality show? Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking you can hook up with Ethan Shi and get back into acting? Let me warn you, Maya. Stay away from him! I ruined your reputation once, and I can make sure you rot in the gutter for good!” She finished her threat, then swept away, proud as a peacock. And there I stood, covered in mud, feeling like I was right back in that period after the thesis disaster. She had secretly deleted all the files related to my project from my computer, changing the dates. During rehearsals, she’d said she wanted to ‘surprise’ me. Then, the day before the final presentation, she claimed she was too nervous and asked if we could switch places, letting her go first. I agreed to everything. So, when the curtain rose on her performance, there were audible gasps from the audience. And Jessica, wearing an identical costume to mine, sat in the audience, wearing the exact same expression she had just now. Smug. Self-satisfied. Gloating. The department head was furious. My agency demanded to know why I was so stupid – plagiarism was one thing, but a direct copy-paste? Once the reporters published their stories, my career was effectively over. Nobody believed me. … If I wanted to actually hurt her, really do some damage, I couldn’t keep playing these harmless little pranks. I lifted my head and glanced towards the second floor of the main house. That was— Ethan Shi’s room. Stay away from him, she said? Heh. 4 I have trouble sleeping in strange beds. I woke up before dawn. Two nights in a row with bad sleep left me feeling completely drained and out of it. I peeked out the window. Nobody around. I snuck into the kitchen, found a small bag of oats, lit the wood stove, and filled a pot with water. Soon, the comforting smell of cooking oatmeal started to fill the air. I sat on the stool in front of the stove, letting out a satisfied yawn. A little while later, Ethan floated out like a ghost, sporting impressive bedhead and holding a bowl. “Mind if I grab some?” His look was a far cry from the cool, aloof movie star of yesterday. I smiled. “Of course.” We sat in silence for a bit. Just the sound of the oatmeal bubbling away. Ostensibly, I was watching the pot, but my peripheral vision was locked on the doorway. Right on cue, Jessica emerged, walking with that practiced gentle grace. When she saw Ethan and me sitting together by the stove, her composure almost slipped. “Oh, that smells wonderful!” she chirped, sliding smoothly into the space between us like she belonged there. “Can I have some too?” “No.” The blunt refusal came from Ethan. Jessica faltered, visibly surprised, and glanced at him. Ethan didn’t even look at her. After his one-word reply, his gaze was fixed intently on the oatmeal. Nicely done! Maybe this was what they meant by karma? Serves her right. 5 The first filming block ended at noon today. During the lull after breakfast, when everyone was just hanging around, I casually brought up the matter of the pig face punishment. Every pore on Jessica’s body screamed resistance. Her entire brand was built on being pure and beautiful. If footage of her looking ridiculous like that got out, who knew how many fans she’d lose. “But I fainted yesterday,” she protested weakly. “That doesn’t really count, does it?” “Fine by me,” I shrugged. “We can just go by the scores before you conveniently passed out. Doesn’t matter to me.” Kevin, the guy who’d defended her earlier, glared at me. “Maya, don’t push it.” I glared right back. “A bet’s a bet. You accept the challenge, you face the consequences. Simple as that.” Seeing that neither side was backing down, the production team, having gotten plenty of dramatic footage, decided to stir the pot further. “Alright, since there’s a disagreement, let’s settle this with an anonymous vote. We’ll see what everyone thinks.” Jessica gritted her teeth, clearly furious. She cast a pleading, doe-eyed look around at the male guests and crew members, the implication obvious. The final result showed that all her batting her eyes had been for nothing. 6 Everyone except Jessica voted for the pig face punishment. Kevin, the guy who’d just confronted me, had the grace to look embarrassed, scratching his head. “Uh, I thought about it… might be a funny contrast, you know?” Yeah, right. Funny contrast my ass. Jessica shot him daggers before storming off to the makeup trailer. She emerged nearly an hour and a half later. The moment she appeared, everyone burst out laughing. There she was, still in her flowy dress, her eye makeup impeccable, but sporting a huge prosthetic pig nose and floppy pig ears. Her cheeks were also padded out, making her face look round and puffy. You could still tell it was Jessica Miller. But simultaneously, she looked absolutely ridiculous. I guessed this final look was the result of some negotiation between Jessica and the makeup artist. She probably never dreamed the outcome would be this bad. … Once the segment wrapped, people started packing up and leaving in their assigned vehicles. My assistant had called last night; he got temporarily reassigned and would be late picking me up. Jessica was just about to get into her car when she saw me standing alone. Leaning against the open door, she said sweetly, “Maya, don’t you have an assistant? Need a ride back to the city? It’s really hard to get a cab out here.” Her eyes, however, were filled with pure, unadulterated glee at my apparent predicament. “She’s with me.” Ethan appeared seemingly out of nowhere, grabbed my suitcase from the courtyard, tossed it into the back of his SUV, and turned to me. “What are you waiting for? Didn’t you say you had something urgent back home?” I practically skipped over to Ethan’s SUV, leaned against the open passenger door, and beamed at Jessica. “Sorry, Ms. Miller, looks like I already have plans!” I deliberately made it sound suggestive and intriguing, then slammed the door shut. I immediately peeked back through the tinted window, watching Jessica’s reaction. Seeing her face twist with rage was deeply satisfying. I finally settled back into my seat. Only then did I remember the person sitting next to me. Ethan had clearly witnessed the entire exchange but didn’t call me out on my little performance. The car was already moving. He leaned back against the seat, holding a book with only a few pages left. The spine showed two words in elegant script: The Painted Veil He was sitting slightly turned, sunlight streaming through the window, catching the lines of his face, making him look almost ethereal. God, he had one of those unfairly handsome faces. “You like Maugham too?” I asked. Ethan nodded. He looked at me then, his gaze steady. “The line, ‘I knew you were second-rate, but I loved you.’ That one stuck with me.” It was only then I noticed that Ethan’s eyes were actually amber-colored. They had a strange, captivating quality. For a fleeting moment, I had the bizarre feeling that I was the ‘second-rate’ person he was talking about, and the ‘you’ in ‘I loved you’ was also me. Thankfully, he quickly looked back down at his book, missing the weird look that must have crossed my face. “Have you ever been in love?” he asked, not looking up. Uh. “I guess you could say that…” “‘Guess’?” I gave an awkward laugh. “Well, I’m not totally sure if it counts as ‘love.’ My deskmate back in middle school, this really sweet, kind of chubby kid. He used to bring me snacks every single day, all sorts of things. And each snack always had a little handwritten note with it – sometimes encouragement, sometimes math formulas. I’d never met a boy so genuinely kind. But then he transferred schools really suddenly… Anyway, first crushes, right? They usually fizzle out. It’s normal.” Just as I was talking, Ethan’s phone rang. He murmured an apology and answered it. Sounded like he was discussing AI voice simulation technology and audio conversion? Very technical terms I didn’t quite follow. Conveniently, my apartment building was just up ahead. I asked the driver to pull over. After thanking Ethan, I quickly got out and headed inside. …

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