Category: English

Cold war, day five. I swallowed my pride, heading to Terry Edward’s place to make amends. My fingerprint stubbornly refused to unlock his door. Then the door opened, and the girl who had tormented me in high school stood there, wearing his shirt, smiling at me. Terry lazily emerged from behind her. “Know you messed up?” My heart utterly broken, I fled the country. Six months later, at a friend’s engagement party. Terry scoffed, “Audrey Hayes, you still can’t let go of me, can you?” I offered a soft smile. “I’m here to deliver my wedding invitation.” 1 It had been five days since Terry and I started our cold war. It was also our five-year anniversary. I’d carefully picked out the watch he’d been eyeing and brought a small cake, ready to patch things up. When I arrived at his villa, the fingerprint scanner kept flashing “authentication failed.” Then the door opened, and Scarlett stood there, smiling at me, wearing Terry’s shirt. My mind went blank. My feet instinctively recoiled a few steps. She was the girl who had bullied me all through high school. “Who is it?” Terry lazily poked his head out from behind Scarlett. He looked me up and down, then let out a scoff. “Audrey Walker, know you messed up?” Before I could even react, Terry pulled me inside. The villa was adorned with balloons, flowers, and champagne. The glaring neon sign Bachelor Party screamed at me. Many of his friends were in the living room. Seeing me enter, they started to tease. “Audrey, you almost let Terry join our bachelor ranks!” “Such a long cold war this time, aren’t you afraid he’d be snatched by some other girl?” Scarlett chimed in. “Don’t say that. Terry is deeply devoted to Audrey.” She pouted playfully. “Remember how he forced me to transfer schools for her? Thinking about it now, I still feel wronged.” Terry put an arm around my shoulder. “Audrey, it’s been so long. You wouldn’t still hold a grudge, would you?” I neither nodded nor shook my head. I couldn’t forgive her. From freshman year, Scarlett had tormented me. She and a few other girls would corner me, raining slaps, glue, and garbage down on me. Bugs in my pencil case, rats in my backpack, even forcing me to get a buzz cut. Those years were the darkest chapter of my life. It wasn’t until the last semester that Terry transferred to our school. He was like a ray of light, pulling me out of the gutter. He used his connections to make Scarlett transfer and declared in front of the entire school: anyone who dared to bully Audrey Walker would have to answer to him. He became my deskmate, brushing his fingers through my short hair, smiling, “Audrey, only you could pull off this haircut.” Even now, seeing Scarlett, I couldn’t bring myself to be calm. The fear inside me surged violently. I lowered my voice, pleading in Terry’s ear, “Terry, can you ask her to leave?” His arm around me tightened. “It’s been years, no need to be dramatic.” His voice wasn’t quiet, and Scarlett heard him. She looked at me, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Audrey Walker, I just got back from overseas. You’re not trying to make Terry send me away again, are you? All that stuff when we were kids, it was just playful teasing. Does it really matter?” Others chimed in, echoing her sentiment. “Who hasn’t had a rebellious phase when they were young?” My nails dug into my palms. They called that “rebellious.” Even Terry thought it was nothing. I stood up, all eyes turning to me. I felt incredibly uncomfortable. “I have something to do, I’m leaving now. You all have fun.” I practically fled. Running far from the villa, my hands still trembled. My heart hammered like a drum. I couldn’t face the unbearable past. I just wanted to bury it deep, never to see the light of day again. 2 The next day, Terry picked me up from work. He was wearing the watch I’d given him, a triumphant grin on his face. I kept my expression neutral, though my stomach churned with unease. I had no right to tell him who his friends could be. He drove me back to his villa. The moment we stepped inside, his passionate kisses descended upon me. “Audrey, I missed you so much.” I wasn’t in the mood and tried to push him away. He mistook my reluctance for playing hard to get, and his desire only intensified. Pinned against the sofa, our breaths grew heavier. “Beep – Unlocked.” We both shot up from the sofa, fumbling to straighten our rumpled clothes. Before we could even see who it was, a familiar voice filled the air. “Terry, can’t you two go to the bedroom?” It was Scarlett’s voice. I stared at Terry in disbelief. The interruption clearly annoyed him too. “Scarlett, could you please knock next time?” My hands trembled uncontrollably. I pointed at Scarlett. “Terry, why does she have your house code?” Terry realized I was angry. He stepped forward and took my hand. “Honey, she just got back from overseas and didn’t want to go home, so she’s just crashing here for a couple of days. Let’s go to the bedroom, ignore her.” Slap! My hand flew up, striking his face. Terry seemed stunned, his head tilted slightly. Scarlett, however, rushed forward, shielding him. “Audrey Walker, are you insane?!” My eyes stung with tears. The scene before me was utterly unbearable. My boyfriend, standing behind the woman who had bullied me. The next second, Terry pushed Scarlett aside. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he’d been deeply insulted. “Audrey Walker, since when did you become so petty? Just because she bullied you back then, you can’t stand to have her around?” My tears fell without warning, my shoulders shaking. I broke up with him. Only later did I discover I had always been a fool. Terry and Scarlett were childhood sweethearts. He hadn’t used any ‘connections’ back then; he’d simply complained to Scarlett’s father. I don’t remember how I walked out of Terry’s villa that day. I only remember his roar before I left. He said, “If you walk out that door, there’s no going back.” The boy who once stood up for me now stood against me. I blocked all of Terry’s contact information. My heart ached, a suffocating pain. I lay awake all night. My dark circles were so heavy I felt drained of all vitality. Whenever I had a moment to myself, Terry’s face would appear in my mind. Sometimes, I’d have nightmares, dreaming of Terry and Scarlett bullying me together. I poured all my attention into work. The company had an overseas project, requiring at least six months abroad. I applied without a second thought. At least, overseas, their shadows wouldn’t haunt me. 3 But withdrawal was excruciating. The emotional backlash was like a hand at my throat, leaving me breathless, my hands and feet tingling. After work, I received a message from one of Terry’s friends. “Audrey, just apologize to Terry. Be careful, or he might actually get snatched away.” “As long as you say the word, he’ll forgive you.” The message was followed by a video. In a noisy karaoke room, Scarlett playfully leaned into Terry’s embrace. I knew Terry had sent it to me deliberately. Every time we argued, he’d use his friends to convey what he wanted me to know. This video was just another way of saying, “Audrey, if you don’t come back, I’ll be with someone else.” Terry always resorted to such cheap tricks. Sleepless nights persisted, yet in this moment, I felt an uncanny calm. I deleted everyone connected to Terry. This time, I wouldn’t waver. The night before I flew out, Terry appeared outside my office building. I stood by the main entrance, watching him. My eyes were red-rimmed, my lips parted, but no words came out. Just as I hesitated whether to approach him, I saw Scarlett. She walked out of a nearby coffee shop. Terry opened the car door for her, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. My legs felt like lead, rooted to the spot. The car merged into the rush of traffic, disappearing from view. I wanted to curse them, call them names, but my tears betrayed me, tasting bitter as they slipped into the corners of my mouth. Seeing Terry again… I wasn’t as strong as I’d imagined. That night, I cried until my eyes were red and swollen. Terry’s words from the villa kept echoing in my mind: “If you walk out that door, there’s no going back.” The future felt too distant… 4 Life abroad wasn’t as easy as I’d imagined. I felt like a body with its soul sucked out. During the day, I worked frantically. At night, I stared at the hotel ceiling, sleepless. Occasionally, I’d spot a familiar figure on the street, and my heart would clench, only to mock myself. Audrey Walker, you’re still thinking about him. A month later, I received a call from a colleague. “Audrey, did you have a fight with your boyfriend? Didn’t you tell him you were going abroad? He came to the office, frantic, looking for you. We told him you went overseas, but he didn’t believe it.” I lowered my gaze. A month. It took him a month to finally humble himself. “Why are you crying?” The man beside me offered a tissue. I blinked hard, indicating I was fine. After a brief chat with my colleague, I hung up. The phone rang again. As soon as I answered, I heard a roar from the other end. “Audrey Walker, you damn well hid overseas! Getting a temper, huh? You…” I hung up before he could finish, then switched off my phone. Caleb Vance watched me, amused. “A former boyfriend you can’t let go of? He’d make a decent bedmate, I suppose.” If he wasn’t my client, the coffee in front of him might have ended up on his face. Men were all the same. I forced a smile and politely flattered him. “Mr. Vance, you’re so open-minded.” Three months later, Terry appeared before me. He looked much more haggard. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and his eyes were bloodshot. We sat in a café, neither of us knowing what to say. I broke the silence first. “Business trip?” Terry stared at me, his gaze unreadable. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “Audrey, I missed you.” They say delayed affection is worth less than dirt. In that moment, I understood the saying completely. But I’d overestimated him. His next sentence slapped me awake. “I’m getting engaged. To Scarlett. If you just open your mouth and say you object, my fiancée can be you, anytime.” I chuckled. Terry’s inherent arrogance was too obvious. Whether in relationships or business, he never bowed down. Even when trying to win me back, he pushed me to make the decision. Five years. I knew him too well. I saw the anticipation practically overflowing in Terry’s eyes. He wanted to get engaged to me, yet he couldn’t even say he was sorry. I swallowed, my throat dry. My voice was a little hoarse. “Congratulations on your engagement, Terry.” His expression instantly morphed into one of terror. “Audrey Walker, you’re just going to push me onto another woman?” Terry’s accusation sounded like a joke. I put down my cup, stood up, and started to leave. He grabbed my wrist, his grip alarmingly strong. “Audrey Walker, why are you so calm? Five years! We were together for five years! Just because of Scarlett, you’re throwing it all away?” I looked at his bloodshot eyes and suddenly felt absurd. “Because of Scarlett?” “Terry, even now, you still think the problem is Scarlett.” I slowly peeled his fingers off my wrist, one by one. “We’ve broken up. Don’t come looking for me again.” I picked up my bag and pushed open the café door. “Audrey!” he called from behind me, his voice laced with a rare panic. “What if I make her leave? What if I make sure she never appears in front of you again? Can we still…” I stopped, but didn’t turn around. “It’s too late. From the moment you told her the code, from the moment she walked into that house, everything was too late.” I walked away decisively, yet the words “getting engaged” still pricked me painfully.

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My Oscar-winning husband, upon hearing I was pregnant, excitedly posted online: [My Queen is pregnant! What else can I give her besides a yacht, a mansion, and a private jet?] Seeing the pregnancy test stick he’d proudly shared, I took a deep breath and decided to play along, making our announcement official: [Send me a plane ticket! We need to be together, always and everywhere!] The next second, my social media exploded, trending with furious comments: [Aria Atour, are you a sow? Trying to claim Adam Vance’s baby with Lexi Wilson? Disgusting.] I was utterly bewildered. Clicking into Lexi Wilson’s live stream, I saw her, dressed in my loungewear, sitting in the new mansion Adam had bought for me, imperiously selecting a prenatal nutritionist. I was livid. I called in, demanding she get out of my house. However, as we confronted each other, Adam’s private account suddenly appeared in Lexi’s live stream, showering her with 9,999 “Carnivals” and publicly declaring his love. Lexi, emboldened by Adam’s public display, dared me to meet her at the mansion. Fueled by a desire to confront the other woman, I rushed over. But Lexi, right in front of me, produced a marriage certificate, the property deed, and Adam’s signed prenatal records. Staring at their “proof” of love, I called my husband: “If you don’t explain your relationship with Lexi today, don’t even think about stepping foot in my house again!” … When my Oscar-winning husband, Leo Sterling, found out I was pregnant, he was ecstatic. Not content with gifting me a yacht, a mansion, and a private jet, he immediately turned to the internet for advice: [My Queen is pregnant! What else can I give her besides a yacht, a mansion, and a private jet?] Looking at the positive pregnancy test stick he’d shamelessly posted on social media, a sweet warmth spread through me. I quickly replied, grinning: [Send me a plane ticket! We need to be together, always and everywhere!] The moment I hit enter, my unread messages went wild, skyrocketing to 999+ in the blink of an eye. Before checking, I felt a flutter of nerves. We’d kept our marriage and my pregnancy a secret for Leo’s career. Now that he’d suddenly exposed the baby, I worried whether joy or sorrow awaited us. But when I clicked into my messages, I was speechless. Every single one was cursing me for chasing clout: [Aria Atour, can you stop trying to grab attention? You were already practically driven out of the industry, how are you still so shameless?] [You want to claim Adam Vance and Lexi Wilson’s baby? Please, consider if you’re even worthy!] [I’m done, I’m truly done. Aria Atour, your desperation is palpable. “Always and everywhere”? I’d slap you so hard you’d stick to the wall and couldn’t be peeled off!] I pursed my lips, exasperated. I was pregnant. What did Lexi Wilson have to do with anything? This Lexi had been obsessed with competing with me since she entered the industry. Now that I was practically retired, why was she still instigating her fans to cyberbully me? I clicked on Lexi’s profile, intending to send her a private message, but my finger slipped, and I ended up in her live stream. The next second, I saw Lexi, wearing my loungewear, sitting in the new mansion Leo had bought for me! I hadn’t even set foot in that mansion yet. How did she get in? I immediately sent a comment: “Who allowed you to stream from my house? Get out!” Perhaps due to the sheer number of viewers, my comment was instantly drowned out by a flood of congratulatory messages from other users. Everyone, without exception, was praising Lexi for her good fortune: [I can’t believe our Lexi was secretly married to the Oscar winner! She really is the hidden queen!] [Lexi’s nemesis, Aria Atour, just tried to ride the coattails and got completely flamed. So hilarious.] [Lexi, is this the new mansion the Oscar winner gave you? It’s so luxurious! You’re so lucky!] Lexi leaned back comfortably on the sofa, imperiously selecting prenatal nutritionists and future nannies, only occasionally responding to fans. But the more she acted like this, the more her fans praised her for her “mistress of the house” demeanor. The absurd scene made me chuckle, and I promptly sent a call-in request. Seeing my profile picture flash, the entire live stream erupted: [Oh my god, the attention-seeker even followed Lexi to her live stream! Lexi, pick up!] [Confirmed ID, it’s Aria Atour’s main account. Why is she so relentless?] Amidst the clamor, Lexi frowned, rolled her eyes, and accepted my video call. “Aria Atour, everyone says you’re an attention-seeker. I didn’t believe it before, but I can’t believe you have the nerve to chase me all the way to my live stream to call in. Do you really need me to verbally tear you down to be satisfied?” I hadn’t even gotten a word out before Lexi’s barrage of accusations, stifling me with frustration. My tone immediately lost all politeness: “Ms. Wilson, trespassing is a crime. You have five minutes to get out of my house!” Hearing my sharp command, Lexi froze, then shrieked: “Your house? Aria Atour, have you lost your mind? This is the mansion Adam just gave me!” “How can you be so shameless, lying like that to everyone’s face without blushing!” Lexi’s reaction made me laugh, albeit bitterly. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am Leo Sterling’s legal wife, and this mansion is in my name!” Hearing my resolute voice, some fans recalled past events: [Aria Atour used to be constantly rumored with Oscar winner Sterling. Could it be true?] [I heard Aria Atour retired to prepare for pregnancy. Could she really be the Oscar winner’s wife?] Lexi, seeing the skeptical comments, flared up in rage. She slammed her hand on the table and yelled: “Enough! Aria Atour was forced to retire because she had no projects, what nonsense about preparing for pregnancy!” “You love to grab attention, don’t you? Today, I’ll show you proof of Adam and my love with your own eyes!” With that, she abruptly stood up and aimed the camera at the walls. Every wall in the mansion was covered with wedding photos of Lexi and Adam. My mind buzzed. I hadn’t visited this mansion once during my pregnancy because I couldn’t stand the smell of formaldehyde from the renovations. But I remembered clearly that the walls were originally adorned with expensive ancient paintings I’d collected! Leo had personally hung them and excitedly sent me photos, asking for a reward. Now, they were all replaced by their wedding pictures? I scrolled through my phone to find the photos, only to realize that too much time had passed, and those files had been automatically cleaned out. Seeing me holding my phone, utterly stunned, a stream of [hahahahaha] flashed across the comments: [Aria Atour is completely dumbfounded. She probably never expected the couple’s relationship to be this strong. The walls full of wedding photos are undeniable evidence!] [Aria Atour got what she asked for! Hurry up and apologize to Lexi!] Apologize? I’d be a pushover if I didn’t call the police on her. Seeing Lexi’s smug expression, I suppressed my anger and continued to question her: “Where are my ancient paintings? Those are priceless artifacts! Who gave you permission to replace them?” “Lexi Wilson, you better restore my house to its original state quickly, or I swear I’ll call the police on you!” Lexi frowned slightly at my furious outburst, seemingly deep in thought. However, the next second, an account with a golden name entered Lexi’s live stream. Fans quickly recognized it as Leo Sterling’s private account, and a string of “brother-in-law” comments flooded the chat: [Brother-in-law, you’re here! With us on guard, no one can bully our sister-in-law!] [Brother-in-law, I have to complain! Aria Atour is trying to grab attention again, and it made our sister-in-law angry!] [Congratulations, brother-in-law, on your baby! Brother-in-law, are you scouting locations abroad? Can you share any sneak peeks?] I said nothing, rolling my eyes at the screen. Leo’s private account was here now. I wanted to see how much longer Lexi Wilson could keep up this act. I quietly waited for Leo to clarify and apologize, but to my utter shock, Leo started showering Lexi’s live stream with “Carnivals.” What? Had the whole world gone mad? Leo, who yearned to be with me every minute, was showering my former nemesis with gifts? I stared at the ludicrous scene, dumbfounded, but Lexi smiled, her face radiating sweetness: “Thank you, darling. Darling, stop with the gifts. Once I sort things out here, I’ll come abroad to be with you.” The gift effects filled the screen, non-stop. Leo typed just one word: [Okay.] Lexi’s smile stretched so wide her mouth almost reached the back of her head, seeing that “Okay.” “Oh, and darling, this Aria Atour suddenly popped up, claiming our baby. How can there be such a shameless woman in the world?” As Lexi complained, the fans in the chat immediately started attacking me, filling the screen with curses about me trying to grab attention. After a long moment, Leo’s private account typed out a line: [Wifey, rest well. As for this attention-seeking witch, I’ll deal with her when I get back.] Seeing Leo’s promise, Lexi’s eyes narrowed into slits from her smile: “Aria Atour, what do you say? Now my husband says he’ll deal with you when he gets back. Are you scared?” “If you’re scared, hurry up and kowtow to me and apologize! Otherwise, with my husband’s power, forget the entertainment industry—I’ll make sure you can’t even get by in this country!” I couldn’t be bothered with Lexi’s taunts. I immediately sent a message to Leo’s private account: [Are you out of your mind, Leo? You know Lexi is my nemesis, why are you playing along with her act?] [Get back here and explain yourself right now, or I swear I won’t let you off!] I furiously bombarded him with private messages, but soon, my messages wouldn’t send – I had been blocked by my own husband, Leo! Seeing the glaring red exclamation mark on the screen, my heart pounded with anger, my hands trembling. What the hell was this? Did Leo hitting his head during filming abroad truly mess with his brain? While I was still trying to figure out what was happening, Lexi was already yelling my name: “A-ria! Atour!” “You were always trying to cling to my Adam, and now we have a child, and you still shamelessly try to butt in!” “Now you’ve gotten what you asked for, hurry up and kowtow to me and beg for forgiveness!” “Otherwise, if anything happens to my precious baby because of your anger, you won’t be able to bear Adam’s wrath!” I was already fuming, and her taunts spurred me into action. I immediately drove to the mansion. But standing at the mansion gates, I found that my birthday code, which Leo always used for everything, wouldn’t open the door. Leo had clearly told me all his passwords were my birthday. I tried a few more times, unwilling to give up, but still heard the cold error message. Just as I was about to try again, the door was opened from the inside. Lexi, a smug look on her face, sized me up and down, then spoke: “Everyone saw that, right? This wretch doesn’t even know the mansion’s password, yet she presumes to call herself Adam’s wife. It’s absolutely laughable!” I ignored Lexi’s provocation, directly shoved past her obstruction, and strode into the mansion. “Ms. Wilson, are you going to leave on your own, or shall I call security to escort you out?” Lexi froze for a moment, then burst into laughter: “Aria Atour, what is wrong with you? If you have mental issues, please turn right and go to the hospital. I’m a pregnant woman who needs to rest, stop repeatedly testing my patience…” Before she could finish, I loudly called for the security guards: “Get this trespassing lunatic out of here, and take down all these wedding photos and burn them!” However, after I spoke, everyone present looked at Lexi, utterly still. Lexi, surrounded as if she were a queen, defiantly lifted her chin at me: “You truly manage to surprise me every time, Aria Atour. You, a washed-up celebrity who retired from the industry, do you dream every day that you’re married to Adam?” “You think you can order around my household staff? I’m dying of laughter.” “Today, I’ll tell you this: not only is Oscar winner Sterling my husband, this mansion was also personally given to me by him. Even the housekeeper and security guards here were handpicked by me!” Seeing the reactions of everyone around me, I felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. How could this be? I certainly hadn’t been to this mansion before, but every detail, even the flowers in the garden, had been chosen according to my preferences. Why was Lexi not only familiar with this place but also able to command the staff here? I stood there, my mind flooded with questions. Lexi scoffed and shoved her phone in my face: “Take a good look at how everyone’s cursing you, you attention-seeking dog. After you’ve seen it, hurry up and kneel to apologize.” “Otherwise, when my husband gets back, we won’t let you off!” I was so angry my head swam, but the venomous insults on the screen clearly appeared before my eyes: [Aria Atour, your face is already swollen from being slapped, why won’t you leave? Do you really think Adam will look at you twice if you just cling here?] [I can’t believe how crazy Aria Atour has become in just a few months. Impressive.] [Apologize quickly! Kowtow quickly! Apologize quickly! Kowtow quickly!] My hands involuntarily clenched into fists. I glared at Lexi. “Fine, Lexi. You’re playing these games with me while my husband is out of the country, huh?” “Leo can’t come back, but his assistant didn’t go with him this time. You just wait, I’m calling his assistant right now to see who’s telling the truth!” With that, I breathed heavily and called Leo’s assistant. However, as I was dialing, Lexi suddenly twisted her body, gritting her teeth, and flung a stack of papers onto the living room table.

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[My dad has Alzheimer’s. He keeps saying my mom and I are fakes, monsters. What do I do?] [He’s called the police 99 times, each time demanding they kill us, his son and me. The police are more exasperated than we are.] [Today, my dad tried to peel off our skin to see if we were monsters…] I scrolled through a trending post, and the comment section was full of people enjoying the drama. I, too, joined the fun and commented: [I specialize in Alzheimer’s. Bring your dad to me for treatment.] It wasn’t until the patient showed up, looking at me with fear and despair, that things got chilling. “My real son has a mole on his neck; this son doesn’t!” “My wife used to throw up at the smell of cilantro; now she eats it every day!” “They’re fakes, but they say I have Alzheimer’s, and the police won’t arrest them.” “Doctor, please save me.” A shiver ran down my spine. The old man’s memory was so sharp, his logic so clear and well-reasoned. He didn’t seem sick at all. 1. I promptly requested a home visit. Upon entering the house, the old man’s son, Adrian Vickers, opened the door, a wide smile on his face. “Dr. Sloane, please come in, have a seat. I’ll get you some tea.” At that moment, old Mr. Vickers tightly clutched my sleeve, pointing at Adrian’s legs. “Look at the way he walks. There’s clearly something wrong,” he whispered urgently. “But my son used to be on the track team; his legs were perfectly fine!” My gaze followed Adrian. He did indeed walk with a slight limp, as if he’d been injured. Old Mrs. Vickers, Maria Vickers, walked out, her wrinkled face furrowed with concern. “Can’t you ever just calm down, old man? Our son was in a car accident last year and injured his leg. You know that, don’t you? Have you forgotten again?” She then turned to me, sighing. “It’s fine, he’s old and confused. He mixes up his memories. Don’t take it seriously.” Old Mr. Vickers eyed his wife suspiciously, about to say something, when Adrian emerged from the kitchen. His tone was tired and resigned. “Dad, what nonsense are you telling the doctor now?” “If I weren’t your son, wouldn’t the police investigate? Wouldn’t they arrest me?” Old Mr. Vickers simmered down. I turned to Maria. “Mrs. Vickers, besides your husband’s illness, has your family always had a good relationship?” Maria nodded vigorously, her eyes filled with nostalgia. “Before Patrick got sick, everyone knew how close my husband and I were. We’ve been married fifty years, a golden anniversary! Look, we still wear our gold rings.” She held out her hand. “When our son got married, Patrick handled everything himself. We were so happy as a family.” I glanced at her ring; it was clearly an old style, worn for a long time, heavily abraded. “So, does Mr. Vickers also suspect his daughter-in-law is a fake?” She shook her head. “No, he only says my son and I are monsters. But if we were monsters, wouldn’t our daughter-in-law know? He’s just old and has become a lunatic!” A certain word seemed to suddenly provoke old Mr. Vickers. He instantly became agitated. “Don’t listen to her! Dr. Sloane, these two monsters must have peeled off my wife’s and son’s skin, put it on, and now they’re keeping watch over me, wanting to devour me whole!” “I’m not sick at all! But they keep telling you I’m crazy and demented! They just want to kill me!” “Dr. Sloane, you must save me!” The more he spoke, the more agitated he became, his chest heaving violently. Adrian and Maria stepped forward simultaneously, reaching out to support him. “Don’t touch me!” He roared, batting away their hands, his eyes filled with pure terror and revulsion. “You skin-stealing monsters, stay away from me!” I quickly moved to calm old Mr. Vickers, glancing at the mother and son’s weary, helpless faces. Feeling the timing was wrong, I escorted old Mr. Vickers back to his room before concluding the family visit. As I was about to head downstairs, the iron gate next door creaked open slightly. An old man poked half his body out, beckoned to me, and whispered: “You’re the doctor for the Vickers family, right?” “Is Patrick acting up again?” My heart stirred. “Sir, are you well acquainted with Mr. Vickers?” “Acquainted! How could I not be acquainted!” “We’ve been neighbors for decades. We watched Adrian grow from a little tyke to a young man. He used to call me ‘Uncle.’” “Sigh, they’re all good people, but Patrick’s been muddled these past two years. He doesn’t even recognize his own wife and son anymore. It’s such a tragedy!” 2. My eyes flickered. “The old man’s family, have their faces always looked like this?” The neighbor’s tone was very certain: “Exactly like this, never changed! If their faces changed, how could the neighbors not notice?” “Patrick used to be quite superstitious, always burning incense and praying. Now that he’s old, he tells everyone his wife and son are skin-peeling monsters. I suspect he’s gone mad. Doctor, you can’t believe a word he says!” I quickly pressed for more information. “Have you noticed any changes in their habits or personalities, the mother and son, compared to before?” The neighbor frowned, trying hard to recall. “Patrick used to always tell us that Adrian fell into an abandoned bunker when he was little and became terrified of the dark ever since.” “We all knew he had to sleep with a night light on, and the hallway lights in their house stayed on all night.” “But for the past year or so, their hallway lights haven’t been on much. Sometimes I even see Adrian taking out the trash at night, and he’s not afraid of the dark stairwell at all. He can walk in the dark.” “But he’s forty now, so it’s normal for the kid to have grown a backbone.” Armed with this information, I quickly thanked the neighbor and headed straight to the hospital. In the electronic archives, I searched for Adrian Vickers’s file. Finally, I found a pediatric emergency record from over thirty years ago. Patient: Adrian Vickers, Age: 7. Chief Complaint: Fell into a hole, excessively frightened, with minor abrasions. Treatment: Wound cleaning and bandaging. Diagnosed with nyctophobia (fear of darkness), prone to panic attacks and stress trauma. I was deep in thought. There aren’t two identical wives and sons in the world. If the family members had been swapped, and the police had been called 99 times, they couldn’t possibly ignore it. And it couldn’t be plastic surgery; everyone gets surgery to look younger and better, who would get surgery to look older, and for what purpose? But then again, could Adrian’s extreme fear of the dark, a stress disorder that hadn’t been cured in decades, suddenly disappear? Old Mr. Vickers’s thinking was clear, and he spoke factually, not like someone with Alzheimer’s. Doubt instantly multiplied. I couldn’t understand what was going on. Just then, I received a call from Adrian. His voice was anxious. “Dr. Sloane, my dad has locked us out of the house! He insists we’re skin-peeling monsters who came to harm him!” “Please help us. My dad gets so agitated, so crazy. I’m really afraid his condition will worsen and he’ll kill all of us.” Through the phone, I could still hear old Mr. Vickers’s agitated shouts and curses. Twenty minutes later, I arrived at their house. Old Mrs. Vickers, Maria, sat in the hallway, her back hunched, sighing deeply. Adrian stood at the door, looking at me as if I were his savior. “Dr. Sloane, please tell my dad right away that he’s just confused from his illness. Tell him to take his medicine and stop making a fuss.” Beside him stood a young woman with a slightly rounded belly, presumably his wife. I knocked on the door: “Mr. Vickers, it’s me, Dr. Sloane.” The door was silent for a moment, then came the sound of unlocking. The door opened a crack, revealing Mr. Vickers’s old and wary face. Seeing it was indeed me, he opened the door completely. He pulled me into the house, quickly closed the door, and double-locked it. “Doctor, look!” He grinned, showing his teeth. “These monsters can’t get in now!” “From now on, I won’t let them into my house again!” His face even showed a hint of childlike triumph. I looked at him, my heart heavy. Alzheimer’s can cause memory confusion and difficulty recognizing loved ones. But it doesn’t typically trigger such concrete, targeted paranoid delusions against specific family members. What exactly was going on with this family? “Mr. Vickers, shall we talk?” I helped him to the sofa. He clutched my arm tightly. “Doctor, I’m not sick, truly not sick.” “I know,” I patted his hand, my voice gently reassuring. “Can you tell me why you hung that photo frame face down?” I pointed to the photo frame by the TV cabinet. I had noticed it the first time I came. The frame was turned over, the photo facing the wall. It was a very strange thing, yet in this seemingly harmonious family, no one had seemed bothered by it. 3. Old Mr. Vickers’s eyes became hazy and fearful. “That photo, it’s wrong.” He pointed at the little boy in the photo. “My Adrian, he has a small red birthmark behind his ear. This child in the photo doesn’t, and neither does the son now.” “The photo must be fake, so I have to cover it up!” His accusation once again focused on extremely subtle physiological characteristics that outsiders could not possibly notice. “Mr. Vickers,” I narrowed my eyes, softening my voice. “When did you start feeling like something was wrong with them?” Old Mr. Vickers’s breathing suddenly quickened. “A year ago, after that car accident!” “The mother and son were in a car accident together. They stayed in the hospital for a few days. I brought them home, but their eyes looked at me coldly!” “We’ve relied on each other for decades. How could their eyes look so unfamiliar to me?” “One is my wife, one is my son. You might not notice, but I did!” My heart gave a sudden jolt. Old Mr. Vickers had always said his son’s legs were fine, but his wife said Adrian’s leg was injured in a car accident. Now, old Mr. Vickers himself was saying his son had been in a car accident. His memory was indeed confused. But his details were too precise, not consistent with Alzheimer’s. I stood up and opened the door, letting the three outside come in. “Mrs. Vickers, Mr. Vickers,” I said, my voice serious. “Given Mr. Vickers’s current mental state, and his repeated emphasis on specific differences, I strongly suggest you undergo a DNA paternity test.” “After the blood test, whether he has Alzheimer’s or not, he won’t say you’re fakes anymore.” “A DNA test?” Adrian’s face was a mixture of absurdity and anger. “Dr. Sloane, what do you mean by this? Do I really have to prove to my dad that I’m his son? This is ridiculous!” Old Mr. Vickers, however, found it plausible. “Do it, do it! I agree!” Old Mrs. Vickers, Maria, sighed heavily and pulled a folded piece of paper from her coat pocket. “Dr. Sloane, I’ve already done a DNA test. The old man already overthinks things, and I was afraid he’d die of anger if he knew I did this, so I never brought it out.” I looked down at the report. It was indeed a DNA identification report issued by a third-party testing agency, and the conclusion was clear as day: It supports the existence of a biological parent-child relationship between Patrick Vickers and Adrian Vickers. “Dad! I am your son, the real deal, no fakes, you see now!” Adrian handed the report to Old Mr. Vickers. Old Mr. Vickers snatched the report, his cloudy eyes fixed on the lines of text. At first, there was confusion. Then, a profound fear and despair crept onto his face. “Impossible! This is impossible!” He violently tore the report to shreds, scattering them everywhere. “Fake! This test is fake! You’re all ganging up to trick me! Monsters! You monsters! You peeled off my wife’s and son’s skin! And now you want to fool me with this flimsy paper!” He agitatedly pointed at Maria. “My wife used to throw up at the smell of cilantro, but you can’t go a meal without it. Don’t tell me you suddenly developed a taste for it after seventy years of hating it!” Then he pointed at Adrian. “My son’s legs are perfectly fine, and he has a red birthmark behind his ear! You, this monster, don’t!” “You can’t fool me! Do it again! I want another test!” I quickly tried to calm him. “Then let’s do it again. I know a very reputable testing center; I can help expedite it, and we’ll get the results quickly.” Adrian and Maria almost simultaneously objected: “No!” Maria’s face darkened slightly. “Dr. Sloane, we asked you to help cure my husband, to stop him from being so confused, not to stir up trouble!” “A DNA test costs four or five thousand. Our family isn’t rolling in gold bricks. One test is enough; why do another?” “Or do you also think we’re fakes? Is your mind as muddled as the old man’s?” I looked at Maria, my tone respectful. “Mrs. Vickers, you misunderstand. I also want to cure Mr. Vickers’s illness as soon as possible.” “His crux is that he firmly believes you are impostors, and he is constantly in a state of fear and stress. Eventually, he will either stab you or commit suicide!” “You love him so much, you surely don’t want a tragedy to happen. Do another DNA test, and he’ll have his answer about whether you are family.” “He has no issues with his daughter-in-law. How about we have her go?” The Vickers mother and son finally relented. Maria sighed, waving her hand. “Clara, you go.” I handed two toothbrushes to the young woman, Clara, along with the expedited testing center address. Clara’s eyes flickered slightly, as if she was struggling, but she quickly agreed. “I’ll go get the expedited test done right now.” I helped the disoriented Mr. Vickers sit down on the sofa. He was trembling all over, muttering repeatedly. “That mole… the birthmark… cilantro… they changed after the car accident… they all want to harm me…” Adrian and Maria sat on the dining chairs, their expressions grim. As the suffocating silence nearly reached its peak, Clara, the daughter-in-law, rushed in with a sealed envelope. “Mom, the DNA test results are in—”

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A male actor, fresh off a few “CEO romance” web series, truly believed he was a CEO himself. After yet another argument with his girlfriend, and to pacify his “darling,” he abandoned a production crew of over five hundred people without a second thought, flying away that very night. The next day, filming was set to begin, but the male lead was nowhere to be found. His hotel room was empty. Dozens of messages were sent, all falling into a void. It wasn’t until evening that he leisurely video-called: “Director, I went to appease my girlfriend. Filming is on hold.” Director Stone was furious. “Nonsense! All locations, all other actors are scheduled! How can we stop production?!” Hearing this, Lucas’s expression was innocent, yet his tone carried a condescending air. “Then what can we do? My girlfriend won’t allow me to film kissing scenes with any woman but her.” “If you want me back, the female lead must be her.” “Even if she hasn’t acted before, we’re a couple. We’re the best official pairing.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over me, standing beside the director. “As for the original female lead, she can just be my girlfriend’s maid.” Director Stone was livid, trembling all over. “Absolutely not! The actress has done nothing wrong, how can I just replace her?” Lucas smiled slowly, deliberately. “If you don’t agree, then I won’t act.” “It’s your call.” 1. “You! Are you threatening me?” The director’s voice was shaking, his phone nearly crushed in his hand. On the video call, Lucas leaned back leisurely on the sofa in his hotel suite, his posture relaxed. “No, Director,” he smiled, “I’m just stating my position.” Director Stone took a deep breath, suppressing his anger. “Lucas, we sent you this script a month in advance. If you didn’t want it, you didn’t have to take the role.” “A month. Couldn’t you tell how many kissing scenes were in it?” Lucas shrugged. “I don’t read them. I only look at the lines on the day of filming.” “It’s your problem. You know I have a girlfriend, and you still gave me a sweet romance script.” Director Stone was instantly speechless. “Lucas, you’re an actor, isn’t this your job?” “Besides, since when did I know you had a girlfriend?” This series was his brainchild, two years in the making. The locations, lighting, and other actors’ schedules were all meticulously planned. Now, with the male lead gone, everything had to be scrapped and started anew. Lucas said nothing, just raised an eyebrow. “How about this?” Director Stone remained silent for a long time before finally speaking. “The show is already half-filmed. What kind of example is it to abandon it halfway? And we’ve already officially announced it.” “All the intimate scenes, I’ll have them done with forced perspective, guaranteeing you won’t touch the female lead at all. How about that?” Lucas frowned. “No,” he said, a hint of helplessness in his voice. “My girlfriend keeps a tight leash on me. Not even forced perspective is allowed.” “She said as long as I have intimate scenes with another woman, even if they’re fake, she won’t accept it.” Director Stone collapsed. “Then what will it take for you to come back?” “I told you.” Lucas smirked, still looking utterly arrogant. “Either we pause for a month until I’ve pacified my girlfriend.” “If I make her happy, maybe she’ll let me do the forced perspective scenes.” “Or, you replace the female lead with my girlfriend.” Director Stone completely slumped, defeated. After a long silence, he struggled to speak again. “Is there a third option?” He looked up at the screen, his eyes red-rimmed. “I searched long and hard for this actress; her acting and image are perfectly suited for this role.” “And she’s done nothing wrong! I can’t replace her. And we absolutely cannot stop production.” Lucas’s face shifted. He spoke impatiently. “Director Stone, I’m not discussing this with you; I’m informing you.” He articulated each word clearly. “If I go back now, she’ll break up with me.” “If I lose my girlfriend, can you bear the responsibility?” I had been standing by, watching the entire exchange, and finally couldn’t take it anymore. “May I speak to him?” Director Stone looked at me, hesitated for a moment, then handed me the phone. I took the phone. The face on the screen saw me, raised an eyebrow, and looked utterly disdainful. I ignored him, my voice calm. “How about this? You both come back, and let her join the cast as my stand-in.” “You two can film the romantic scenes. I guarantee there will be no physical contact between you and me.” “That way, she can be on set watching you, and you won’t have to worry about her breaking up with you.” Director Stone looked at me, his eyes full of gratitude. This was indeed the most reasonable compromise we could think of. But Lucas chuckled softly. He looked me up and down, his gaze sweeping over my face, then slowly began to speak. “You? Have my girlfriend be your stand-in?” He leaned forward slightly, as if confirming something amusing. “Do you even think you’re worthy?” He leaned back on the sofa, his voice dripping with condescending pity. “You’re not as pretty as my girlfriend.” “I refuse. She can only be the lead actress, never anyone’s stand-in.” My grip on the phone tightened. Then he averted his gaze, looking at Director Stone behind me, his voice raising a notch: “Director, if you don’t make the change, then I’m out!” “Go find another male lead yourself.” “All the expenses and delays will amount to more than just a month!” Director Stone sprang to his feet, snatching the phone and angrily exclaiming: “No! We signed a contract!” “What’s a contract?” Lucas laughed, his eyes arrogant. “Don’t forget, I’m a trending actor with half a million followers across all platforms.” “This show relies on me to attract viewership.” “Without me, what are you?” With that, the screen went black. He had hung up. When I tried to call back, his phone was off. 2. Smash— Director Stone, furious, threw his phone to the ground. The screen instantly shattered into a spiderweb. “What an arrogant jerk!” He paced back and forth in the room, gritting his teeth in anger. “If you don’t want it, then don’t film it!” he yelled into the empty air, then slumped back into his chair, defeated. The room was silent for a long time. After about fifteen minutes, Director Stone looked up at me. His eyes were bloodshot, but he had calmed down. “Jane,” he began, his voice hoarse, “the male lead isn’t coming. We need a new one.” “Do you know anyone? Or have any recommendations?” I paused. A name suddenly flashed through my mind. “Director,” I said, “there’s an actor. He doesn’t say much, but his acting is excellent.” Director Stone’s eyes lit up. “Who?” “His name is Ethan Cole.” Director Stone frowned, thinking for a long time. “Never heard the name.” “He mainly acts in serious dramas, doesn’t do many variety shows,” I explained, “but his acting is truly superb, and his image suits this role even better than Lucas’s.” Director Stone mused, “Do you have his contact information?” I nodded. I called him, and he answered quickly. I briefly explained the situation. There was a two-second silence on his end, then he said one word: “Okay.” That same afternoon, Ethan Cole flew in. He arrived at 7 PM, dropped his luggage, and went straight to the set. Director Stone had him try out two scenes. After watching, the director was utterly speechless. “His acting…” Director Stone murmured, “it’s leagues beyond Lucas’s.” I stood by, silent. Lucas came from a trending background; no matter what he played, he was always just himself. But Ethan was different. He was the kind of actor who could truly embody a character. The same lines, the same shots — he just stood there, and the entire scene transformed. Director Stone made a decision on the spot: “He’s the one.” This series had already been filmed for a week with Lucas. All his scenes needed to be reshot. This meant the previous week’s progress was erased, and everyone had to work overtime to make up for lost time. Normally, I would finish after ten hours of filming, but this day, we shot for a full sixteen hours. No one complained. This series was Director Stone’s passion project, and it was everyone’s passion project. Lucas might not care, but we did. At 2 AM, I finally returned to my hotel room. I was so exhausted I barely had the energy to remove my makeup. I collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. My phone suddenly vibrated. I picked it up and saw a message. [How’s it going? Your show won’t get filmed without my permission.] The sender was Maya Vance. Lucas’s girlfriend. And my high school nemesis. In high school, my grades always outranked hers. She was always the perennial runner-up, and I, the perennial first. That’s why I got into the top film school. She didn’t. But she never gave up. To make a living through fame, like me, she became a provocative influencer. Later, Lucas noticed her, and they started dating. I looked at that message and suddenly wasn’t tired anymore. I typed back: [Yes, you’re so powerful. When you can’t compete on skill, you compete for a man.] She replied instantly: [What are you so proud of? Don’t think I don’t know you have a crush on my boyfriend.] [You’re just not as pretty as me, so you’ve graciously conceded.] I almost laughed out loud. Have a crush on Lucas? My taste wasn’t that bad. Not every guy who came along caught my eye. [Some people aren’t picky,] [Be careful not to upset your stomach.] She fumed: [Don’t get cocky! From what I hear, you prepared for that show for half a year, and now it’s shut down, so you can’t film it either.] [My boyfriend is a top star. Do you really think the director will give up on him?] [Leave him to cool his heels for a month, and he’ll come crawling back begging.] I stared at the screen for a few seconds, which then made me amused. Half a million followers and he’s a “top star”? A high school dropout who got picked by a talent scout by chance to be a web series actor just because he was good-looking. After a few months of acting, he actually thought he was some big shot? No acting skills, no education—only she would consider him a treasure. I yawned, then replied: [Oh really? I hope your wish comes true.] After sending that last message, I closed my eyes and fell asleep instantly. 3. For the next month, we filmed almost in complete isolation. Everyone poured their heart and soul into it, working from dawn till dusk, wishing they could stretch every minute into two. No one leaked a single piece of news. No behind-the-scenes glimpses, no candid shots, no whispers. From the outside, it looked like the production had halted. Lucas probably thought the same. He and Maya were completely unrestrained. In their social media feeds, they were in Miami one day, Vegas the next, then off to Aspen. All sorts of check-ins, all sorts of couple photos, captions dripping with suggestive intimacy. I got tired of seeing their updates every day, so I just blocked both of them. A month later, wrap day. After the last scene was filmed, Director Stone stood behind the monitor, his eyes red-rimmed. “Thank you, everyone,” he said, his voice a bit hoarse. “Thank you for staying with me to finish this show.” A week after wrapping, I received an invitation to my high school reunion. I wasn’t going to go, but the class president personally called, saying it was rare for everyone to be together, and they all really wanted to see me. I thought about it and decided to go. The location was a hotel in the city center. When I arrived, the private room was already full. Seeing me walk in, a few people stood up to greet me. “Jane is here! Our big star!” I smiled, exchanged a few pleasantries, and found a corner seat. Just as I sat down, the door opened again. Maya walked in, arm-in-arm with Lucas. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder red gown, her makeup flawless, her heels clicking loudly. The moment she entered, everyone crowded around her. “Maya! Long time no see!” “Is this your boyfriend? Wow, he’s so handsome!” “I heard he’s an actor? What has he been in?” Maya smugly lifted her chin, clinging to Lucas’s arm, and said in a sweet voice, “Oh, him? He’s been in lots of shows, they’re all pretty good.” Someone asked, “How come we haven’t seen them much?” Lucas chuckled, his tone casual, “I mostly do web series. Haven’t gotten into full-length dramas yet.” “Oh, web series…” The person nodded, then paused and added, “But web series are pretty good too.” “Hey, Jane also does web series. I heard a show called The General’s Disfavor recently blew up.” “The press conference is tomorrow, let’s go check it out!” Lucas froze. He glanced at Maya, then smiled. “That show is mine. It hasn’t finished filming yet.” Everyone exchanged puzzled looks. Lucas patted Maya’s hand, confidently saying, “They definitely know we’re back, and specifically arranged this press conference for us.” “After leaving them hanging for over a month, they finally learned their lesson.” Maya’s eyes lit up. She leaned on his shoulder. “Really? So I’ll be on stage tomorrow too?” “Of course.” Lucas put his arm around her waist. “My baby is so beautiful; her first acting role will surely steal the show, much more popular than some others.” Someone nearby asked, “Maya is acting now too?” Maya nodded, a hint of shyness on her face. “Yes, I’m the new female lead for this show. I haven’t acted before, but Lucas says I have potential.” “Wow, a real couple acting together! It must be amazing!” “So sweet!” Everyone showered them with compliments. I sat in the corner, eating my dinner, not saying a word.

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The moment she clinched her third straight Best Actress award, right there on live television, with millions watching, my wife stood in a wedding gown, holding a ring I’d designed, and proposed to her agent. Her circle of friends, a flurry of retweets and well wishes, declared it was high time they got together. I, too, quietly posted a comment: “Truly touching. Best wishes.” The next second, my phone rang. It was my wife, fuming. “Don’t be childish, Mark. This is the ninety-ninth task. Once I’m done with the last one, I’ll go public with us.” 1. The live chat was still flooded with congratulations. I calmly ate the dinner that had long gone cold in front of me. It tasted awful. Much like the meager affection between Elara and me – flavorless, yet somehow hard to discard. The video of Elara’s passionate, heartfelt proposal to Jason Reed on the awards stage quickly went viral. The comment section was a unanimous chorus of fans praising them for finally finding their happily ever after, calling them soulmates. I expressionlessly set down my chopsticks and opened Elara’s social media. Her latest post was a photo of her and Jason locked in a deep embrace, captioned: “Finally found you, glad I never gave up.” Below it, her close friends chimed in with identical blessings. “My OTP is finally together!” “This is what fairy tale love looks like!” I scoffed, then casually typed a comment: “Truly touching. Best wishes.” After sending it, I tossed my phone aside and drained the remaining red wine in my glass. A bitter taste spread through my mouth, mirroring the raw emotion churning inside me. Knowing she might win, I’d specifically cleared my schedule. I’d prepared a table full of her favorite dishes and uncorked a cherished bottle of red wine, intending to celebrate with her. Because of Jason, our relationship had steadily deteriorated. I’d tried to confront her countless times, but each attempt ended with her giving me the cold shoulder and me, inevitably, giving in. This time, I had thought, after she won the award, we’d finally have that talk, clear the air. She’d even promised me she’d come home to celebrate with me tonight, putting Jason aside. I sat in front of the TV, brimming with anticipation, waiting for her winning moment, ready to cheer for her, waiting for her to come home. And what did I get? I watched her, tears welling in her eyes, change into a wedding gown. From her assistant’s hand, she took an exquisite velvet box, slowly opening it. Inside lay a pair of rings—a pair I had personally designed, meant for our long-overdue wedding ceremony. “Jason,” she said, her voice filled with deep affection, looking out at the audience. “I know you’ve always been there. Thank you for tolerating all my quirks and shortcomings, for being the man behind me. I…” Her voice caught, tears glistening in her eyes. “For my hundredth little gesture for you… will you marry me?” My wife, on a grand awards stage, before the entire world, had proposed to another man. It was utterly, brutally ironic. I felt like I’d been slapped hard across the face, a scorching pain blooming on my cheeks. 2. She knew how much that ring meant to me, how much thought and effort I’d poured into it. Three years of dating, seven years of marriage. When we got married, her career was just taking off. Her agent insisted that going public would harm her prospects. I understood. I supported her. I willingly became the man in the shadows. She promised that at the right time, she would reveal our relationship. I believed her, and for three years, I worked tirelessly, day and night, designing this wedding ring. I revised it countless times, pouring all my heart and soul into it. I had so hoped it would be a testament to our love. I wanted to give her a magnificent wedding, to personally place this unique ring on her finger, and then tell the world she was my wife. Instead, she put it on Jason’s hand, turning it into a cruel thorn in my heart. My phone screen lit up. It was a video call from Elara. Against my better judgment, I answered. The scene that greeted me sent a chill down my spine. In a bathroom, Elara, dressed in a seductive nightgown I’d never seen before—lace and sheer fabric outlining her graceful figure—was carefully reapplying lipstick in the mirror. Jason held the phone, wearing only a bathrobe. “Honey, what are you doing?” Elara playfully rolled her eyes at him, every curve of her lips and eyelids exuding charm. The call ended. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my phone and typed a message: “Let’s get a divorce.” The message sent, my heart felt hollowed out, empty, leaving only an expanse of bitter emptiness. Three hours later, Elara’s call finally came through, laced with pure venom. “Mark, what the hell is wrong with you? What’s with this sudden divorce talk in the middle of the night?” “I’m home. Where are you?” I asked, my voice cold. “I’m celebrating with the team, why?” Her tone carried a hint of impatience. I scoffed. “Elara, do you really take me for a fool?” Elara’s voice hardened. “Believe what you want! I don’t have time for your drama, I’m busy right now!” Seeing her utter nonchalance, I suddenly felt a profound sense of weariness. “Elara, let’s get a divorce. I’m serious.” I hung up. My mind replayed the last ten years with Elara, every single memory. I picked up my suitcase and walked out of the house without a backward glance. The second floor of my studio had a lounge, a place I usually used for quick naps. Now, it was my temporary refuge. I sat slumped on the cold floor, drinking. In a haze, I dreamt of when Elara and I first got together. She was so young and innocent then, her eyes full of adoration for me. I’d casually mentioned wanting a new gaming console. She’d said, “Waste of money,” but secretly, she’d saved up for ages, scrimping and sacrificing, just to buy it for me. Her joy then was purer than any gift she could have received. 3. I woke the next day with a splitting headache. My phone screen flashed with dozens of unread messages, all from Elara. “Where are you? Why aren’t you answering?” “I bought your favorite matcha cake, when are you coming home?” “Mark, can you please stop being so unreasonable?” “Is this about Jason again? Don’t push it too far!” Unreasonable? Pushing it? I scoffed and blocked her number. When did I become the unreasonable, irrational one in her eyes? Perhaps it was when she started publicly documenting her “100 small gestures for Jason” on social media. I’d questioned her then, and she’d nonchalantly brushed it off. “It’s just to keep up appearances, to grab attention.” I believed her. Again and again, I chose to trust her, lowering my boundaries each time. I convinced myself to understand her, to be empathetic. I thought that once she completed her 100 gestures, she would settle down with me. But I was wrong. Her attitude toward me grew increasingly perfunctory, increasingly impatient. Our arguments became more frequent, each ending with my surrender. I was afraid she would really leave me, even more afraid of losing her. I was forced to accept her late-night trips to the beach with Jason to watch the sunrise. I accepted their passionate kiss in a bar on our anniversary. I even accepted her taking off for a month-long trip abroad with Jason without a word. She never told me about these things; I always found out from her social media updates. Every time I saw them, it felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Everyone else was cheering for their love, while I swallowed all my grievances alone. The ridiculous part was, I still had to pretend everything was normal, asking her, “Busy with work lately?” She’d always answer nonchalantly, “Hmm, I guess.” And then, nothing. It was as if an insurmountable chasm had opened between us. I was an outsider, watching my wife openly flirt with another man. I wanted to let go countless times, but each time I saw her return home exhausted, saw her occasional flashes of vulnerability, my heart softened. I lied to myself, saying it was just for work, just an act. But now I finally understood: I had lost, completely and utterly. An email popped into my inbox, sender: Daniel William, a renowned designer. The email was concise, expressing admiration for my design style and a sincere invitation to join his team. My fingers trembled slightly as I replied, accepting his offer. Deep down, I still wanted to prove that without Elara, without this marriage, I, Mark, could live a more fulfilling life. That afternoon, I was buried in perfecting a design draft in my studio when Elara suddenly appeared. She was wearing a perfectly tailored white suit today, sunglasses hiding her eyes but not the star aura emanating from her. My colleagues couldn’t help but steal glances and whisper about her. She had always been proud; after the first year of our relationship, she never came to my studio again. Before, if she could just come by to see me, I would be ecstatic, like a fool, wanting to tell the whole world she was my wife. But now, I merely gave her a fleeting glance and continued working. “Mark, why aren’t you talking to me?” She walked over, draped her arms intimately around mine, her voice a slight whine. I felt uncomfortable with her closeness, subtly pulled my hand away, and said flatly, “Something wrong?” “Last night, I was too caught up in the celebration, I forgot to celebrate with you. Can we make it up tonight?” “No need, I don’t think we have anything to celebrate.” Elara froze, a hint of hurt in her voice. “Mark, what’s wrong? Are you still angry with me?” “If you don’t have anything important, please go home. I have a lot of work to do,” I said coldly, unwilling to waste any more words on her. She bit her lip, her eyes slightly red. “Don’t be mad. Shall we go to dinner together?” Looking at her pitiful expression and the curious stares of my colleagues, I finally gave in. “Let’s go.” 4. I pulled open the passenger door, only to be met by a pair of men’s slippers. I looked at Elara, expressionless. “Jason’s. I’ll put them in the back,” she stammered, grabbing the slippers and tossing them into the back seat, her embarrassment barely concealed. I said nothing, sliding into the car, but my hand froze before buckling my seatbelt. Tucked into the crease was a used condom, still there. I couldn’t maintain my composure anymore. I snatched the damn thing out and flung it onto the seat. Elara’s face instantly went pale. Her lips moved, but no words came out. Of course, she knew what it meant. I slammed the door and got into the back seat. I watched her coldly, like a stranger, a stranger who made me sick. The white suit she wore today was clearly a matching set with the one Jason posted on his social media last week. I casually glanced at the back seat. Jason’s personal items were scattered everywhere: spare clothes, his usual hairspray, even an unread script… Before, Elara would always complain about my messy things, insisting no clutter in the car, saying it ruined the aesthetic. Now, Jason’s things shamelessly occupied her car. Just like their relationship, shamelessly occupying my life, my marriage. All this time, I had been deceiving myself, deliberately ignoring those glaring details, pretending everything was normal. But now, this car full of “evidence” had slapped me awake, leaving me nowhere to hide. “Mark, listen to me, my hundred gestures for Jason are over. I’ll find a way to go public with us.” Elara’s voice was laced with panic and a plea. Over? So what? The thought of her using my designed ring to propose to Jason in public made me realize this marriage had long ceased to be worth anything. Rain drizzled outside the window. I felt a little drowsy. A jarring screech of brakes jolted me awake. I looked up to see a familiar figure standing in front of the car. Jason. He was soaked through, rain dripping from his hair, his face pale, looking utterly miserable. Elara frantically unlatched the door and rushed out. “Jason, are you okay? Were you hit?” I watched her coldly as she ran to Jason, meticulously checking him for injuries. Elara helped Jason into the car, then turned to me, anxiously. “Mark, Jason’s soaked. Can I drop him home first, then we can go to dinner?” Seeing her frantic expression, the last flicker of hope in my heart died out. “Go ahead and drop him off,” I said expressionlessly. “Pull over somewhere with cover and let me out.” “Mark, why are you being so suspicious again? I’m just worried Jason will get a fever,” Elara frowned, clearly annoyed. “I understand. Just drop me off, then you can go.” I thought I sounded quite composed, even a little nonchalant. Elara’s voice suddenly rose, full of anger and accusation. “Jason has been in the rain for so long; do you really have to be so suspicious now? Will you only be satisfied if he gets sick?” At that moment, Jason weakly spoke up, “Elara, it’s fine. I’ll just call a cab later. Don’t let me disrupt your dinner.” I watched their interaction, finding it incredibly jarring. “No, you can’t. You’re soaked like this, what if you get a fever?” Elara refused without thinking, her voice full of worry. Sitting in the back seat, watching their intimate gestures, I suddenly felt incredibly ridiculous. Elara seemed to lose patience. She snapped at me fiercely: “If you don’t want to come along, then get out now. Don’t waste our time.” She reached to pull me out of the car. A sharp pain pierced my heart, and I let her push me out. The heavy rain poured down, instantly drenching me. I stood by the roadside, watching Elara drive away without hesitation. It was hard to find a cab in the downpour. I walked for a long time before finally reaching a sheltered spot. I was soaked to the bone, shivering uncontrollably. By the time I got back to the studio, I was burning up, my mind hazy. Thankfully, a colleague working late saw me and rushed me to the hospital. In and out of consciousness, I saw my colleague bustling around, buying me porridge, pouring me water. Eating the bland congee, tears streamed down my face, unstoppable. How long had it been since someone cared for me like this? I suddenly remembered how, when we first dated, if I got sick, Elara would drop everything and rush to my side to take care of me. Now, only a colleague was by my side. Upon returning to the studio, I sent Elara an email. The content was simple, just one line: “I’ve drafted the divorce papers. Sign them.” I scrolled through my phone. There were a few messages from Elara, all sent half an hour ago, asking if I had gotten home. Her tone was as demanding as ever, with a perfunctory concern: “Don’t be so childish next time. I’m not going anywhere.” “Learn to be as considerate and generous as Jason, stop being so petty.” “I’ll give you all the security you want, don’t be so small-minded. I’ll come home to stay with you tonight.” Reading these messages, I let out a humorless laugh. She probably hadn’t been back to our house since the awards, having no idea I had already moved out. I expressionlessly blocked her number. Out of sight, out of mind.

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1 Isabelle Ridley and I grew up inseparable. The day we turned eighteen, our families announced our engagement. From then on, I counted the days. But Isabelle saw it as a cage. “Most people get to fall in love a few times,” she once said bitterly. “Why am I stuck with you, from cradle to grave?” She shrugged, adding, “You should date around too, Noah.” She lived by her words. In the year after our engagement, Isabelle cycled through seven boyfriends. With each one, I calmly said it was fine, telling myself she’d get it out of her system and return to me eventually. Then came the eighth. She brought him to her family’s annual gala, holding his hand as he called her “Izzy.” I set down my fork and, in front of everyone, slid the signed engagement contract to the center of the table. “You were right, Isabelle,” I said steadily. “Committing to one person for life? It’s a raw deal.” Later, when I stood before her with Sophia Langdon—the Langdon heiress—Isabelle smashed her champagne flute, her eyes red with fury. “Noah, what is this?!” I smiled. “Isn’t this what you wanted? I tried. And she’s a perfect fit.” … I’d been to the Ridley family gala many times. But tonight was the first time I walked through those doors as something other than “Isabelle Ridley’s fiancé.” “Is that Noah Prescott? What is he…” “Who is he holding hands with? Is that the Langdon girl?” “And who’s that standing next to Miss Ridley? What is going on…” Isabelle shot to her feet, the legs of her chair scraping a jarring shriek against the polished marble floor. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she pointed a trembling finger at Sophia. “Do you have any idea who he is? He’s my fiancé!” Sophia glanced at me, a silent question in her eyes, asking if she should speak. I gave a subtle shake of my head. Mrs. Ridley forced a smile, trying to smooth things over. “Noah, there must be a misunderstanding. Izzy is just young and likes to have her fun. In her heart, she’s still yours…” I looked at Isabelle’s mother and offered a smile of my own. “Mrs. Ridley, she’s had her ‘fun’ for a year. Seven boyfriends. I never said a word.” “Tonight is your family’s most important event of the year, and she brings number eight. If I stay silent now, should I be expected to give up my seat for number nine?” Mr. Ridley’s face turned to stone. He shot Isabelle a look that could kill. She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off with a raised hand. “You were right, Isabelle. Being faithful is a bad deal.” “So, I’m ending the engagement. It’s over.” I nudged the contract further across the table, then turned to my own father. His expression was unreadable. He met my gaze for three long seconds, then stood. “Richard,” he said to Mr. Ridley, “let’s not interfere in our children’s affairs. But if Noah wants to end this engagement, he has my full support.” Mr. Ridley’s face darkened. He roared at Isabelle, “Get out of my sight! Now!” Isabelle was banished to the study. Even through the thick wooden door, we could hear the sound of things being thrown and smashed. Mrs. Ridley said nothing more, simply following her daughter into the room. Isabelle’s date, a young man named Caden, was left standing alone, wilting under the stares of the entire room. He ducked his head and hurried out of the main hall. The gala ended abruptly. I walked Sophia to the door, releasing her hand once we were outside. “Thank you for tonight, Sophia.” She looked up at me, her gaze warm and uncomplicated. “It was my honor to play a part in your little drama.” Then she got into her car and vanished into the night. I stood there in front of the Ridley estate, a cool wind brushing against me. A red wine stain on my white shirt had dried, leaving a dark, rust-colored mark. When I got home, I collapsed onto the sofa and lay there for a long time with my eyes closed. My mind drifted back to the year Isabelle first took my hand, declaring, “Noah Prescott is mine.” I remembered our eighteenth birthday, the day of our engagement party, when she announced to everyone, “He’s the one for me, for life.” And now, at twenty-two, she had brought her eighth boyfriend to meet me. The person I had sworn to protect was no longer mine to protect. I opened my eyes, took out my phone, and opened my chat with Isabelle. The last message, from three days ago, was a picture of her and Caden. New boyfriend. Cute, right? I hadn’t replied then. And I wouldn’t be replying now. I tapped her profile picture and selected “Delete Contact.” 2 A week after the engagement was broken, I drove out to a tea garden in the countryside to discuss a new project. The place was designed like a classical estate, with a small courtyard at the entrance and a flagstone path lined with bamboo. As I walked through the courtyard, I saw him. Caden. He was sitting at a tea table under a covered veranda, smiling and chatting, with pastries and tea laid out before him. Across from him sat Isabelle. Caden saw me first. A flicker of recognition lit his eyes before he quickly composed himself and pretended to continue his conversation. A hostess came to greet me, and I told her I had a reservation. She led me to a table in a quiet corner. The spot wasn’t far from their table, close enough to overhear their words. I had just sat down when I heard Caden say, “Izzy, about what happened with Noah the other night… what’s the latest?” The teacup in my hand paused halfway to my lips. Isabelle’s voice drifted over. “What’s to handle? He’s the one who broke it off. You don’t expect me to beg him to take me back, do you?” Caden chuckled. “But for him to do that in public… it was a huge slap in the face for you.” Isabelle laughed along with him. “He thinks he can scare me by ending the engagement? Please. Our families arranged it. His word alone doesn’t mean a thing.” I lifted the cup and took a slow sip. It was a premium green tea, this year’s harvest. It was good. Caden asked another question. “So, are you going to see him again?” “See him for what?” Isabelle’s tone was breezy, indifferent. “I have you now.” Caden lowered his voice. “So… when are you going to marry me?” There was a two-second pause. Then, Isabelle’s voice, clear as day. “Soon. As soon as things settle down, I’ll marry you.” I swallowed the tea and poured myself another cup. The steam rose, warming my face, leaving it feeling damp. Caden was still talking, but his voice had become a dull buzz in my ears. Her words echoed in my head, over and over. As soon as things settle down, I’ll marry you. Things settle down. I almost laughed. I had waited an entire year for her to come back to me. And here she was, promising to marry someone else as soon as things “settled down.” I drained my cup, called the waitress, and paid the bill. As I stood to leave, I walked past their table. I didn’t slow my pace. I even wore a faint, polite smile. Caden’s expression shifted, likely surprised by my composure. Isabelle watched me, her gaze following me until I was out of the courtyard and gone. Once I was in my car, I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white. My nails dug into my palms, the pain a sharp, welcome sting. I sent a message to the project manager, changing the location of our meeting. Three seconds later, I started the car and drove away. Back at the tea garden, Isabelle pushed away the pastry Caden offered her. “Let’s go.” Caden looked confused. “Where?” “You go home first. I have something to take care of.” His face fell, but he didn’t dare argue. That evening, the client for my new project was finalized. It was the Ridley Corporation. The next day, I received another message. The project liaison would be Caden. I stared at the message for a long time. Did Isabelle get him a job at her family’s company? Or was he already working there? It didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. I put down my phone and went back to revising the proposal. 3 At the project kick-off meeting, I found myself sitting across from Isabelle as a contractor for the first time. She was dressed in a sharp business suit, her expression all professional. Caden, also in a suit, sat beside her. I opened my laptop and began my presentation. Five minutes in, Caden held up a hand, interrupting me. “Mr. Prescott, I believe there’s an issue with your target demographic positioning.” I paused and looked at him. “The positioning was determined by preliminary market research. Your team signed off on the report.” Caden smiled. “That was before. I’m in charge of the project now, and I don’t think it’s appropriate. It needs to be changed.” Isabelle nodded beside him. “Caden’s right. Revise it.” I paused for a beat. “Alright.” I continued. Ten minutes later, Caden interrupted again. “This customer flow design is also unacceptable. It’s too convoluted. Did your team even do a site visit when you drafted this?” “We conducted three site visits,” I replied evenly. “The flow is based on…” Caden cut me off again. “I’ve seen your analysis report. The data sources are all wrong. Do it over.” Isabelle nodded again. “Do as he says.” Her gaze met mine for a fleeting second before she looked down at her phone. I took a deep breath. “Understood.” For the rest of the meeting, Caden interrupted me every five minutes, his criticisms growing more and more absurd. The other people in the room exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared to speak up. When I finally finished, I closed my laptop. Caden smiled. “Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Prescott. Please take the proposal back and revise it thoroughly. We’ll meet again soon.” After the meeting, he cornered me in the hallway. He gave me a slick, smug smile. “Mr. Prescott, I’ll be your point of contact for this project moving forward. Let’s make sure we communicate frequently.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Izzy told me that the success of this project will directly impact the future partnership between the Prescott and Ridley corporations.” “Don’t worry,” he added, his voice dripping with insincerity. “I’ll be sure to ‘cooperate’ with you fully.” I looked at his face and felt a sudden, sharp urge to ask him a question. Do you have any idea that the woman you’re with went through seven boyfriends in a single year? But I didn’t. I just said, “Then let’s stick to the protocol.” His smile widened. “Of course, I’ll follow protocol. I’m just worried Mr. Prescott might not be used to it.” He turned to leave, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Prescott. Izzy said that after this project is completed, we’ll be officially announcing our engagement.” I stood there, motionless, and watched him disappear down the hall. For the next week, I worked late into the night, every night. I revised the proposal eight times. Each time I submitted it, Caden sent it back. My colleagues complained in private, saying he was doing it on purpose. I just told them, “Keep revising.” I knew he was doing it on purpose. Arguing was pointless. At eleven o’clock one night, I was alone in the office, working on the proposal. A knock came at the door. I looked up to see the security guard. Someone was here for me. I went downstairs. Sophia Langdon was standing in the lobby, holding a plastic bag. 4 Sophia walked over and handed me the bag. “I was passing by and thought you might be hungry.” I opened it. Inside was a container of hot soup and a coffee. I looked up at her. “Sophia, did you plant a tracking device on me?” She pretended to think about it. “That would be illegal.” “Then how did you know I hadn’t eaten?” She just smiled, not answering. I started on the soup. The warm broth soothed something deep inside me. She stood beside me quietly, just watching. Suddenly, I let out a small laugh. She looked at me. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing,” I said. “It’s just… I feel like it’s been a long time since I’ve laughed like this.” She met my eyes, her gaze soft and light. I didn’t say anything more. I went home that night and completed the ninth revision of the proposal. I submitted it at two in the morning. At eight a.m. the next day, I received a reply: [Approved.] The project’s milestone reception was held in the grand ballroom of a five-star hotel downtown. The moment I walked in, I could hear the whispers. “Isn’t that Noah Prescott? I thought he was engaged to the Ridley girl. Why is her family giving him such a hard time now?” “I heard they broke it off, but I don’t know the details.” “That Caden guy seems to be Miss Ridley’s new favorite. I bet an announcement is coming soon.” The words floated into my ears, but I kept my face a blank slate. At precisely eight o’clock, Caden entered with Isabelle on his arm. He was dressed in a sharp white suit that made him look dashing. Isabelle was in a magnificent gown, a polite smile fixed on her face. Someone braver than the rest called out, “Miss Ridley, is it true you and the Prescott family have called off the engagement?” Every head in the room turned to look at Isabelle, and then at me. Just as she was about to speak, I set down my glass. “It’s true,” I said, my voice cutting through the murmurs. “The engagement between the Ridley and Prescott families has been cancelled.” A wave of shock rippled through the ballroom. Isabelle’s face paled. She stared at me, her eyes wide. I met her gaze without flinching. Then, a slow, deliberate smile spread across her face. She wrapped her arms around Caden’s neck. And in front of everyone, she stood on her toes and kissed him. Caden froze for a second, then a look of pure joy washed over his face as he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back. Gasps and whispers erupted from the crowd. When the kiss ended, Isabelle pulled back, her eyes still locked on me. “Mr. Prescott is correct,” she announced, her voice ringing with false triumph. “The engagement is off.” “Because the man I’m going to marry… is him.” The room exploded. Caden was so overjoyed his eyes turned red. He held her waist tightly, as if she might disappear. But Isabelle wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at me. Waiting for my reaction. Waiting for a crack to appear in my composure. But my expression remained a perfect, unreadable mask. Just as I was about to say something, a voice came from behind me. “What a coincidence.” I turned. Sophia Langdon was walking through the crowd, a vision of elegance in her evening gown. She moved toward me, her gaze passing over everyone else until it landed on my face. She stopped in front of me, reached out, and took my hand. Then she lifted her head, looking at Isabelle, at Caden, at the entire room. “Because I’m going to marry him.”

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I had my phone on silent all day for a business trip, escorting clients for a fifty-million-dollar company bid, not wanting to be disturbed. Who knew I’d return only to be stopped by my fiancée’s male assistant? “You didn’t reply ‘received’ in the work chat today. Five thousand dollar fine!” I merely assumed he was unaware of my work schedule and ignored him. The next day, my fiancée, Sally, kicked me and my luggage out of the company. The male assistant fanned the flames nearby. “Company policy clearly states you must reply ‘received’ within two minutes. You’re abusing your position, setting a bad example! Other project managers reply instantly; is your hand too precious to type?” Sally actually spoke up for him. “A Vice President brazenly defying regulations and arguing fallaciously! If you don’t pay the fine within a day, you’re suspended for a day!” I looked at the diligently prepared bidding documents in my hand and smiled. Then I called my eldest sister. “I have a fifty-million-dollar winning bid to hand over to you. Also, I accept your previous offer; I’ll start at your company in three days.” 1 “What, finally came to your senses? Didn’t you refuse to come back before, even for a million-dollar annual salary?” My sister’s tone was full of teasing. Thinking of Sally kicking me out of the company because of a male assistant, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. “Don’t even get me started. As long as your company doesn’t have some rule about being fined for not replying ‘received’ in the main work group within five minutes, I’ll be there in three days to start.” “Then it’s settled! No backing out this time!” Soon after talking to my sister, Sally called me. “I left the bid documents in the car. Bring them up.” I heard Ben’s deliberately amplified voice. “Ms. Vance, these tasks are for me, your assistant. How can you ask the Vice President to do them? Mr. Will already has a grudge against me after being fined today. I’ll go instead…” Sally’s stern voice, without a second thought, immediately soothed him. “It’s so hot. Your constitution is too weak for running around. Besides, he defied company regulations; you were just doing your job, giving him a friendly reminder.” “Will, I’ll only wait ten minutes for you. If I don’t see those documents, pack your things and leave the company!” The phone call was ruthlessly cut off. I stood there stunned for a long time, then let out a self-deprecating laugh. My fiancée had inexplicably reprimanded me for another man. She even, out of concern for him, made me take over what should have been someone else’s task. I still went to retrieve the documents, after all, there were resignation matters to settle. Sally took the documents. I was about to mention my resignation, but she didn’t even glance at me, handing the papers directly to Ben. “I have an announcement. Due to Will’s disregard for company regulations, I’ve decided to demote him. From now on, Ben will take over his Vice President position, and Will will be an assistant, supporting his work.” Ben looked at her, overwhelmed. “I… Ms. Vance, you’re too kind to me!” “It’s just a shame for Will, but you’ve had enough leisure as Vice President for a few years. It’s time to gain some experience as an assistant.” Listening to Sally heap praise on him, my heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a pair of hands, leaving me breathless with pain. Everyone in the company knew I was Sally Vance’s fiancée, yet under her, I had never received any special treatment due to that connection. On the contrary, I was treated more strictly than regular employees, starting from the bottom, working my way up. I drank so much at client dinners I ended up in the hospital, and secured countless projects to finally reach the position of Vice President. She always used to say, “I don’t want people to treat you differently because you’re my fiancée. I’m training you.” Yet, with Ben, her principles would bend and break again and again. Ben’s brow was etched with smugness. He pulled out a few expense reports. “Will, when you’re in a position, you act accordingly. So I’ll just have to uphold some Vice President rules. These are your hotel receipts from your last business trip.” “The company has always emphasized cutting costs. You’re still staying in five-star hotels? You’re just an assistant now; these expenses can’t be reimbursed.” Sally snorted, praising him. “He just took over and already understands how to generate profits for the company. My judgment is truly good.” My fingertips dug deep into my palms. I forced a calm demeanor. “You can give the Vice President position to whomever you wish, but I will not take the assistant position.” “I’m specifically here to resign. And Sally, our engagement is off.” 2 [Your employment process is complete. Report to work the day after tomorrow.] I received my sister’s message while packing to leave what had been our marital home. Sally returned with Ben, frowning when she saw me at home. “Why are you here?” My hands paused. I couldn’t help but retort, “You must have forgotten, this is my home too.” She seemed surprised by my uncharacteristic attitude, paused, then softened her tone. “Ben’s neighborhood hasn’t been safe lately. He’s now the company’s Vice President, holding considerable power, and as his superior, I should show concern.” “So I’ve decided to let him stay with us for a while, until he saves enough money to move out.” Her words were a complete declaration, with no hint of seeking my agreement. Ben stepped forward, feigning sincerity. “Will, I really don’t want to intrude on your and Ms. Vance’s lives, but Ms. Vance insists on not leaving me alone; she practically forced me to stay.” “She also said that you, Will, are older and more tolerant, and wouldn’t mind these things.” Over the years, I had heard such provocative words countless times, but this time, my heart was already unmoved. I picked up my luggage and said indifferently, “Do as you please. I already said the engagement is off. It doesn’t concern me who you bring into this apartment.” As I approached the entryway, Sally suddenly grabbed my hand, displeasure in her voice. “An entire night has passed, and you’re still not calm? I didn’t even mind you humiliating me in front of everyone yesterday. What exactly are you doing?” “Doing?” I scoffed, all the questions I had for her and Ben trapped within my throat. Looking at this meticulously decorated marital home, I suddenly felt pitifully foolish. It was in this apartment that she had knelt on one knee and proposed to me. “Will, I promise you, I will never let you suffer another moment of hardship.” In the past, even the slightest disagreement between us would make her immediately drop everything to soothe me. But now, she knew I was unhappy, yet chose to resolve it by ignoring me for a night, expecting me to calm down on my own. I shook her hand off, saying calmly, “The engagement is truly off. I’ll have you submit my resignation letter for me.” Ben suddenly rushed forward, blocking me, bowing and apologizing profusely. “Mr. Will! It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have come here and made you think I was taking your place!” “I’ll go resign right now and never appear before Ms. Vance again!” With those words, he hurried out the door. Sally clenched her fists tightly, shoving me hard, raging, “Will! Will you only be happy if you drive Ben to his death?! The whole company was talking about him yesterday, and he only fined you to set an example for others!” “If he doesn’t live and travel with me, he’ll be ostracized by everyone in the company! I’m making amends for you! There’s nothing between Ben and me; can you put away your filthy thoughts?!” I crashed against the hallway cabinet, the bones in my lower back almost breaking. She left, slamming the door, without even looking back once. 3 I had my employment documents ready to proceed with joining Thorne & Co., but before I could leave, Sally’s secretary called me. “Mr. Will, Vice President Ben hasn’t approved your resignation letter. He requests you come to the office in person, and this is also Ms. Vance’s wish.” Ms. Vance’s wish. This was a blatant attempt to force me back. If my resignation wasn’t processed, the bid project would remain with Sally’s company. That project was one I had secured after repeatedly humbling myself; now that it had won, I had to take it with me. Ben looked down at me, contemptuously tossing the resignation letter to the floor. “My apologies, Will. Have you been Vice President for so many years that you can’t even write a proper resignation letter? The project handover isn’t clearly detailed, so I can’t approve it.” Looking at the resignation letter, revised dozens of times, I clenched my hands, letting out a scoff. “Intentionally targeting me? Ben, I just disdain to argue with you, otherwise, do you really think you’re qualified for this Vice President position?” I picked up the report, looking at him coldly. “Speaking of which, you reminded me. The projects I’ve handled over the years are all critical to the company’s lifeline. It’s certainly not up to you to approve.” Ben, smugly, blocked my way, pushing a lace negligee into my hand. “You’re going to see Ms. Vance, right? Good. Please return this negligee to Ms. Vance for me. Last night, Ms. Vance insisted on wearing this to cheer me up because I was in a bad mood.” “Let me tell you, forget about firing you for not replying to a message. Even if I said you walked into the company with your left foot first, Ms. Vance would listen to me and tell you to get out!” “Oh, I almost forgot, this outfit got dirty last night because we got a little carried away. Will, could you please wash it before returning it? After all, you’ve done plenty of laundry and cooking before.” Rage surged from my feet to my head. I could no longer restrain myself and swung my fist at his face. “Ben, you’re actually proud of being a homewrecker, aren’t you?!” The force was clearly not great, yet he thumped to the ground, clutching his face, crying and apologizing. “Will, I was wrong! But the resignation letter has to follow this procedure! Hitting me won’t help, everyone has to follow the process!” Accompanying his words was a furious kick to the door. Sally, seeing him on the floor, didn’t hesitate for a moment. She raised her hand and slapped me across the face. “Will! How dare you hit Ben!” A searing pain flared on my face. I looked at Sally’s piercingly cold eyes, and it took me a moment to realize what had happened. “Apologize.” Her voice was icy and merciless, her gaze like millennia of frozen ice, chilling me to the bone. “Won’t you even ask what happened?!” My eyes reddened, my head throbbing. I felt like I was about to collapse. “You laid hands on Ben and still think it’s his fault?! You’re truly irrational now, get out of my way! I need to take Ben to the hospital!” She impatiently shoved me. My ears rang, my head spun, and with that push, I actually fell to the floor. She paused, pulling Ben’s hand, about to help me up, when Ben suddenly cried out in agony. “Ms. Vance, what do we do? I feel so dizzy. I wonder if Will’s punch just now injured my brain!” Sally’s eyes were filled with anxious concern. She looked at me, then back at Ben, and finally let go of me. Before I lost consciousness, the only thing in my mind was that deafening slap. And the unbelievable, yet undeniable, truth. The person who once said she would never let me suffer, who worried when she saw me doing dishes and cooking, had actually raised her hand to hit me for another man.

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The day my patron was exposed as an imposter, the true heir of the city’s wealthiest family forced him into a basement where he tried to kill himself. I had just stolen the sponsorship agreement we’d signed years ago, planning to shred it and run. Suddenly, a stream of text began to scroll before my eyes, like comments on a live feed. Typical gold digger. She’s ditching him now, which is perfect. Makes room for our girl, the real heroine. After she leaves him, she’ll find some psycho benefactor who tortures her to death. If only she knew that in six months, he’ll have staged the most epic comeback in history, surpassing the Blackwood dynasty to become the youngest self-made billionaire. He and the heroine will become a legendary power couple. She’d probably claw her way back from the grave out of sheer spite. My hand trembled, and the agreement ripped in two. There was no time to think. I burst into the bathroom and saw him, Alistair, with a fresh cut bleeding on his wrist. I threw myself forward, grabbing his arm, my tears flowing without a shred of dignity. “Alistair, don’t you die on me! Who’s going to take care of me if you’re gone? I was hoping we could renew our contract!” His gaze, dark and hollow, drifted to the two pieces of the agreement on the floor. He spoke, his voice a ghost of its former self. “Really?” 1 “You were only ever with me for the money,” he said, his eyes scanning the damp, grimy basement as if he were a machine. “And now, you see what’s become of me.” His lips, always so vibrant, were now bloodless. I pressed my hands over the gash on his wrist, but crimson still dripped onto the cracked concrete floor. “I’ve been cast out of the Blackwood family. I’m hiding in this hellhole, a man who can’t even support himself, let alone you. So just go. I won’t blame you.” A cold dread prickled my skin, and I shivered. I’d been with Alistair for eight years. To the world, he was the suave, gentle heir. But I knew the truth. He was a viper coiled behind a mask of civility, and he never forgot a slight. His words might have sounded like a release, but the hand hidden behind his back was clenched so tight his knuckles were white. I didn’t know whether to believe the strange text floating in my vision, but my instincts, honed by years of surviving at his side, screamed at me to make a choice. I couldn’t leave. If I did, I wouldn’t have to wait for some future psycho to kill me. Alistair would do it first, and he’d do it slowly. I lunged forward and crushed my mouth against his pale lips. He seized control instantly, kissing me with a desperate hunger that left me breathless. When I finally pushed him away, gasping for air, I snatched the torn agreement from the floor. As he watched in stunned silence, I ripped it into tiny pieces. I cupped his face in my hands, my voice earnest. “Alistair, I don’t want to be your mistress anymore.” A flicker of murderous intent, the kind born from having nothing left to lose, flashed in his eyes. The comments in my vision were just as scathing. [Wow, I actually thought she’d had a change of heart. Turns out she’s just here to twist the knife. Just you wait. When her new patron is torturing her, she’ll be begging Alistair for help, and he won’t even give her a second glance.] [As soon as this parasite leaves, the heroine will burst in and save him. And that’s when his epic revenge story begins. Get the popcorn ready!] I ignored their vitriol, my voice dropping to a soft, trembling whisper. “I know this is probably the worst possible time to say this, but… now that you have nothing, I feel like I can finally reach you. So, Alistair, will you be my boyfriend?” His eyes widened slightly. But before he could answer, my vision went black. The last thing I saw was a single line of text materializing in the darkness. [Changing your mind won’t save you. Deviate from the script, and you’re the one who suffers.] A furious fire ignited in my soul. Follow the script? The script wanted me dead. Why the hell should I? In the suffocating dark, a searing heat consumed me. I ran and ran, desperate to escape, until finally, my eyes flew open. I shot upright, drenched in a cold sweat. I was in a hospital bed, a piercing pain radiating from my core. A soft groan escaped my lips. A cool hand touched my forehead, and Alistair’s voice, thick with fear, washed over me. “Sasha? Are you feeling any better?” The pain was a constant torment. After eight years of him catering to my every whim, never letting a single scratch mar my skin, I had grown soft. The agony was too much. I broke down, sobbing. “It hurts. It hurts so much.” He stood up, helpless, and rushed out to find a doctor. The man who returned with him shot me an irritated look. “If you don’t have the money for tests, you need to be discharged. Stop taking up a bed. What do you want me to do? No money, no treatment. It’s that simple.” Alistair’s voice was a low, furious growl. “Run the best tests you have. I have…” His words died in his throat. His proud posture, always so straight, seemed to crumple. He lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes. The doctor scoffed. “You should probably get going. You don’t have anything left to pawn for another night’s stay.” That’s when I noticed it. The family signet ring he always wore on his little finger was gone. Ignoring the searing pain, I threw myself out of bed, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the exit, chattering nonstop to soothe him. “Honestly, just being with you is like a painkiller, you know? It doesn’t hurt nearly as much. You can’t get rid of me, Alistair. You just can’t.” A single, hot tear landed on our joined hands. His voice was a raw, broken whisper. “I won’t.” A small smile touched my lips. And I wasn’t even lying. 2 [He chose to take the side character to the hospital and missed his fated meeting with the heroine. The plot is completely derailed.] [The system’s punishment seems weaker, too. That’s probably why she can still walk. The original penalty for defying the script should have left her in a state worse than death.] [You know, I’m kinda shipping them. The fallen tycoon and his fiercely loyal canary. You don’t see that every day.] I hid the glint in my eyes, piecing together a path to survival from these fragmented clues. So, if I defied the script, I’d be punished. But if Alistair chose me, without hesitation, every single time, it could break the script’s hold. The punishment might weaken, or maybe even… disappear? It all hinged on Alistair’s love. I turned to look at the man who was once the untouchable prince of the city, now trailing behind me, holding my hand with such gentle care. I smiled, my eyes crinkling. “Alistair, you’re my boyfriend now. So you’re going to work hard and get rich again so I can have my old life back, right?” “I promise,” he said, his voice firm, his words a vow. [Is it just me, or did he go from being her sugar daddy to her lapdog?] [Just wait until he starts working. The humiliation and degradation he’s about to face… that’s when the heroine swoops in to save him from rock bottom. Their love story will ignite. That’s the most important plot point.] [So they missed their first meeting. Big deal. It won’t stop them from falling in love. The side piece should start looking for her next benefactor now, before it’s too late.] I didn’t stop Alistair from going to work. The pain was a relentless beast, and sleep was my only escape. He came back exhausted every day. His clothes, once impeccably clean, now had dust ground into the knees. I knew from the comments what was happening. He’d gone to an old acquaintance from his circle, a man named Rick. Rick despised Alistair for being an imposter, but he couldn’t deny his business genius. So he tormented him with petty cruelties. The man who once oozed pride was on his knees, polishing another man’s shoes. He was hauling heavy water coolers up twenty-six flights of stairs, replacing the jug in every office. He was standing in the breakroom for three hours, making coffee for the entire company. Rick even made Alistair clean the toilets. I had smelled the acrid scent of disinfectant clinging to his skin. But despite all that, the first thing I saw when he walked through the door each night was a smile. He’d set down the groceries he’d bought and immediately pull me into his arms. “Feeling any better today?” I’d blink my eyes open, still groggy, and plant a loud kiss on his cheek. “Just having you hold me makes it all better.” “I’m starving. I want dinner.” Alistair, carrying the bag of groceries, moved to the small kitchen with practiced ease. I propped my head on my hand, enjoying the absolute meltdown happening in the comments. [This is the man who used to take three showers if he got a whiff of cooking smoke on him. Now he’s living in the kitchen just to cook for her.] [All she has to do is give him one compliment and he’s putty in her hands. And her whole ‘you’re my painkiller’ line? So cringe, I got goosebumps.] I rolled over in bed. Oh, there’s so much more than that. After dinner, Alistair would wash my clothes by hand, clean our tiny apartment, and then give me a full-body massage. Only after I was sound asleep would he start on the work he’d brought home. Whenever he was here, the slightest sound from me was treated like a national emergency. Like right now. Wearing an apron, he knelt beside my bed. “Did rolling over hurt? Do you need me?” I put on my sweetest voice. “I need my boyfriend to kiss me.” He chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to my lips, his hands, the same hands that had signed billion-dollar deals, began to gently massage my temples. The throbbing ache inside me subsided a little. I closed my eyes, content, and directed him to my shoulders. A shrill ringtone shattered the peace. Alistair’s hands paused before he answered the call. His brow furrowed, and he gave me an apologetic look. “Something came up at work, Sasha. I have to go out for a bit. You finish dinner, just leave the dishes on the table. I’ll wash them when I get back.” I watched him go. The comments exploded. [Rick has been plotting this all along. This isn’t about work. It’s a setup. He’s going to break Alistair’s pride, humiliate him, assault him. But thank god, the heroine is about to make her grand entrance and save the day! I’ve been waiting for this scene. My ship is finally sailing!] [After tonight, that manipulative gold digger will be kicked to the curb. I am so tired of her cutesy, fake act.] 3 A jolt of energy shot through me. I forced myself up, ignoring the pain, and scrambled out the door after Alistair, determined to intercept his and the heroine’s fated romantic encounter. Following the directions from the comments, I found the nightclub and slipped past a distracted bouncer. The pounding music amplified the pain in my body. In the center of the main floor, a noisy crowd had formed a circle. I pushed my way through and saw him. Alistair, pinned to the floor. Rick had his foot on Alistair’s face, grinding his heel into his cheek. The floor was littered with shattered glass, the shards digging into Alistair’s skin. Blood and spilled liquor pooled around him, the metallic, sweet stench making my stomach turn. “Still think you’re some kind of prince?” Rick sneered. “You’re a fake. A nobody. Thrown out on the street with nothing. If I wasn’t feeding you, you’d be begging for scraps right now.” “All I asked was for you to do a little striptease for us. You had no problem getting on your knees to polish my shoes. Why the high-and-mighty act now?” A vile smirk spread across Rick’s face. He grabbed Alistair’s chin, pinching his cheeks until they were red. Rick was notorious in their circle for being into men and women, but I never thought he’d set his sights on Alistair. “You’ve had a tough time, haven’t you? Just soften up a little. Be a good boy and play with me, and I can give you all the money and power you could ever want.” Alistair’s chest heaved, his eyes burning with silent fury. He spat a mouthful of blood onto Rick’s face. The response was a vicious storm of kicks and punches. Rick wiped his face, his expression twisting into a mask of rage. “Break his arms and legs! Strip him naked and hang him from the ceiling! Let’s see how long he lasts with no food or water!” A bouncer lifted a chair over his head and brought it down hard. Alistair let out a muffled grunt, swallowing the scream that rose in his throat. My vision turned red. Forgetting everything about the plot, I grabbed a fruit knife from a nearby table and charged into the circle, swinging it wildly. “Let us go! Or none of us are walking out of here alive!” My voice shook uncontrollably. I’d never been this close to real danger. My frenzied state made Rick stumble back a step. He squinted, and a slow, dawning smile spread across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t Alistair’s little pet canary, Sasha. Still sticking with him even though he’s broke. What a loyal little whore.” His lecherous eyes darted between us. “I’ve had men, and I’ve had women. But I’ve never had a matching set before. Looks like I’m trying something new tonight.” “You can be my little plaything,” he said to me. “I’ll give you more than he ever could.” The words had barely left his mouth when Alistair, who had been lying limp on the floor, exploded. Veins bulged on his forehead as he snatched the knife from my hand and plunged it straight into Rick’s eye. “You dare touch her!” But Rick had numbers on his side. Bouncers swarmed forward, pinning Alistair down and beating him mercilessly. Rick writhed on the floor, screaming. “A doctor! Get me a goddamn doctor! And skin that bastard Alistair alive! I want him to beg for death!” I tried to shield Alistair with my own body, but someone kicked me so hard I flew backward, crashing into a table and coughing up a mouthful of blood. The fists landing on Alistair were brutal, each blow a sickening thud. But he seemed to feel nothing. His only focus was on me. When he saw the blood spill from my lips, he began to struggle with renewed ferocity. His eyes were blazing red, staring straight at me. He mouthed two words: Run now. [I knew this scene was coming, but it’s still brutal to watch. This incident leaves a permanent scar on him. It’s only with the heroine’s love and support that he’s able to heal.] [No wonder Rick is the one who eventually tortures the side character to death. I wish I could jump through the screen and kill him myself.] That sentence flashed in my mind. A wave of fury and defiance surged through me. Why should I die at the hands of scum like this? Why does he get to humiliate Alistair without consequence? I grabbed a jagged piece of broken glass from the floor and scrambled toward the now-unprotected Rick. As he roared in agony, I drove the shard deep into his neck. Hot blood sprayed across my face and hair. Suddenly, a clear, commanding female voice cut through the chaos. “Stop! Anyone who lays another hand on Alistair Blackwood will answer to me.” It was as if fireworks had exploded in my vision as the comments lit up in celebration. [The hero and heroine have finally met! The plot is back on track!] A wave of unimaginable pain washed over me, stealing the last of my strength. I collapsed to the floor. With my last ounce of will, I turned my head to look at Alistair. And I saw it. A flicker of awe and astonishment in his eyes as he looked at his savior.

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The moment I saw my husband Henry’s name filled in the “Family Signature” section, I knew he was cheating. I’m an obstetrician, specializing in deliveries. In that instant, I stared at his name for a full five seconds. The nurse beside me stamped her foot impatiently. “Dr. Evelyn, hurry! The patient’s already in, and the family is waiting in the hallway!” I didn’t move. Because just last night, during our video call, Henry had been complaining to me. He said his business trip to Seattle would last half a month. He said he couldn’t sleep without me. With that thought, I picked up the consent form and pushed open the door leading to the delivery ward hallway. On a chair in the corridor, Henry sat, head bowed, meticulously peeling an apple. He peeled it so carefully, the skin a single unbroken coil. Yet, in our two years of marriage, he had never once peeled an apple for me. The moment he looked up and saw me, the apple slipped from his hand and hit the floor. “Ev… Evelyn? I thought you were at your fellowship…” He pointed at me, his lips trembling. I didn’t answer. I simply held out the consent form, even unscrewing the pen cap for him. “Mr. McCarthy, you missed one signature.” “Hurry, your wife is waiting for you.” 1 Henry’s face went white. His mouth opened and closed twice, but no sound came out. “Sign it.” I repeated, my voice steady, cold. He took the pen with a trembling hand, his gaze darting wildly, unsure where to look. “Evelyn, listen to me, it’s not what you think.” “I’m not thinking anything.” I pointed to the last line on the form. “Family confirms consent for delivery, sign here.” He looked down, seeing his name printed under “Spouse.” Next to it were the patient’s details: Maya Croft, 27 years old, first delivery. His pen tip hovered over the paper, hesitant to descend. “Evelyn, I can really explain.” I didn’t look at him. I pulled the form from his hand, using the pen to tick a box in the family section for him. “No time for explanations. Dilation is almost complete.” As I turned, he reached out to grab me. I sidestepped, and his hand met empty air. Nurses bustled back and forth in the corridor. Family members dozed on benches, clutching thermoses. No one saw him reach out. And no one knew the doctor walking into the delivery room had just encountered her own husband bringing another woman to give birth. I pushed open the delivery room door. The lights inside were bright. A young woman lay on the delivery bed. Round-faced, her bangs plastered to her forehead with sweat, her eyes red, clutching the bedsheet tightly. She saw me enter and offered a nervous smile. “Hello, Doctor. I’m a little scared.” “That’s normal. Relax.” I lowered my head, flipping through her medical chart. 39 weeks and 2 days pregnant, normal fetal position, complete prenatal check-up records. The signature for every single check-up was Henry McCarthy. From week 12 to week 39, not a single one missed. I did the math. She got pregnant about ten months ago. What was I doing ten months ago? I was discussing with Henry whether we should enclose the balcony to plant flowers. He said yes, he’d find someone to do it after his business trip. That balcony was never enclosed. He said he was too busy. Turns out, he was busy accompanying someone else to prenatal check-ups. I closed the chart and walked to the delivery bed. Maya reached out to me. “Doctor, could you please call my husband in? I want him to be with me.” I looked down at her hand. A ring adorned her left ring finger. Platinum, set with small diamonds, with an engraving inside the band. I didn’t need to get closer to know what was engraved. It was my wedding band. Three months ago, Henry said he lost it at the gym, searched for days but couldn’t find it, and promised to buy me a new one. Now it was on another woman’s hand. This woman lay on the delivery bed, calling my husband her husband. Wearing my ring. “Doctor?” Maya watched me cautiously. I withdrew my hand. “Family can’t come into the delivery room for now. He can come in after you’ve given birth.” I offered her a smile. That smile took all my strength. 2 The contractions grew more frequent. Maya’s forehead glistened with sweat, and her lips were bitten raw. But she never screamed, just endured in muffled tones, occasionally whimpering. When the pain became unbearable, she’d clutch the bedsheet, mumbling, “My husband says it’ll be over after I give birth, it’ll be over after I give birth.” I adjusted the fetal heart monitor, not responding to her words. She was probably too nervous and started talking incessantly. Some people curse when they’re in pain, some cry. Maya was the talkative type. “Doctor, my husband is really good to me.” “Mhm.” “He says he’s been waiting for this baby for a long time.” “Mhm.” “He was in a relationship before, it didn’t work out. Then he met me, and he said he knew I was the one for him, forever.” I smoothed the monitor wires, keeping silent. “We’ve been together for almost two years.” Maya added, a hint of pride in her voice. Almost two years. Henry and I got our marriage license exactly two years and three months ago. Overlap. It overlapped from the very beginning. Which meant, he started this soon after we got married. Our honeymoon period wasn’t even over. Maya probably saw my expression was too calm, assuming I wasn’t interested, and changed the subject. “Doctor, are you married?” “Mhm.” “Then your husband must also feel for you. Being a doctor is so tough.” I handed her the straw cup. “Drink some water. You’ll need the strength later.” She took the cup, drank a few sips, and started talking again. “What moves me most about my husband is that he’s willing to start over for me.” “His previous relationship ended badly. He said the other person clung to him for a long time.” “Later, he moved, changed his phone number, and finally found peace.” I heard the words “moved.” My fingers paused for a second. “Where do you live now?” I asked casually, like idle chatter. Maya didn’t think much of it and gave an address. Emerald Lakes, Building 14, Apartment 1602. My pupils constricted. Emerald Lakes, Building 14, Apartment 1602. That was my property. My parents bought it outright before I was married, in my name. Henry and I moved in together after we got married, living there for over a year. Before I left for my fellowship, Henry said his commute was too long, and he wanted to move closer to his company, suggesting I rent out the Emerald Lakes apartment. I agreed. He said he found a tenant for me, three thousand five hundred a month, paid into my account. Three thousand five hundred. He did transfer three thousand five hundred to me every month. It wasn’t the tenant’s money. It was his own money, a pretense. He was living in my apartment, with another woman, spending my money, and pretending to collect rent every month. Maya was still talking. “Our apartment is so nice. He decorated it himself, and he planted so many flowers on the balcony.” The flowers on the balcony. They were jasmine and mint that I had planted before I left. I had watered them for half a year, fertilized them countless times. Now, they were his gift of romance to another woman. “Doctor? You don’t look so good. Are you alright?” “I’m fine.” I adjusted my mask. “The air in the delivery room is stuffy. It’s normal.” Another wave of contractions hit. Maya was too much in pain to speak. She arched her back, panting desperately, her hands gripping the side rails. I looked at her, thinking, You’re living in my apartment, wearing my ring, carrying my husband’s child, and now you’re lying on my delivery bed, asking me to deliver your baby. Maya, do you know how absurd this world can be sometimes? And I am the only one in this entire room who knows the script. 3 The labor progressed faster than expected. Maya’s physical condition was good, the baby’s weight was moderate, and the fetal heart rate remained stable. It was a smooth delivery. As I acknowledged this inwardly, a bitter taste filled my mouth. Profession was profession, personal matters were personal. I stood by the delivery bed, guiding her to breathe, push, breathe, and push again. Maya’s face was streaked with tears and sweat, gritting her teeth, she strained with my rhythm. In between contractions, she kept speaking, brokenly, as if only talking could lessen her fear. “My husband said… he said he’d wait outside all night…” “He also said… if it’s a boy… we’d name him Henry Jr.… meaning ‘peaceful’…” Henry Jr. A nice name. What did Henry say when we discussed names for our future children? He said not to rush, to wait until his career was more stable. Wait until the mortgage was paid off. Wait until he returned from his business trip. Wait until next month. Wait until next year. I waited for two years, and it turns out he wasn’t waiting for the right moment. He was waiting for someone else to get pregnant. “Push, one last time.” I pushed down all other thoughts, fully concentrating as I delivered the baby. A boy. Six pounds, eight ounces. His cry was loud and clear, filling the entire delivery room with his wails. Maya lay exhausted on the bed, her face a mix of tears and sweat, a foolish grin on her lips. “Is it a boy?” “Yes.” “That’s wonderful, he finally has a son.” She emphasized “finally,” as if she had completed some monumental task for Henry. The labor and delivery nurse took the baby for cleaning, while I performed the final stitches. Maya tilted her head, watching the baby, and suddenly said, “Doctor, thank you.” “You’re welcome.” “No, I’m not talking about the delivery.” Her voice was weak but sincere. “My husband had a difficult past. His ex-wife… the woman who clung to him, she got sick and passed away.” My hand, holding the suture needle, paused. “He’s truly a good man with a loyal heart. Every spring, he says he goes to visit her grave, suffering alone.” “Last spring he took me to San Diego, saying he needed a change of scenery, but he was distracted the whole day. He said he didn’t want his ex-wife to be too lonely by herself there.” “So I’m especially grateful to fate for bringing me to him. And thank you, for safely bringing our child into this world.” She smiled through her tears. I looked at her young, unguarded face and suddenly found it absurd. He told this woman I was dead. I was alive and well, working at a hospital three miles away, delivering babies, doing rounds, writing medical charts every day. In his story, I was an ex-wife who had passed away, a dead person used to elicit sympathy. I finished the stitching, removed my gloves. “Rest for a bit. The nurse will bring the baby to you soon.” Maya hummed in acknowledgment and reached out to stop me. “Doctor, wait. Help me look at something.” She struggled to pull a velvet pouch from a small bag beside her pillow, emptying out a jade ring. Verdant green, with an orchid carved into the silver setting. “My husband said this is a family heirloom his grandmother left him. He told me to wear it after I gave birth, to ward off evil. Do you think it’s valuable?” I stared at that ring. Only one in the whole world. My mother wore it for twenty years before she died, taking it off her hand and pressing it into mine as she passed. “My little Jasmine, this is for you. Mom has nothing else to leave you.” I had locked it in my jewelry box at home. Henry had told me six months ago that we had been robbed, that the jewelry box was pried open, and my mother’s jade ring and some gold jewelry were stolen. He had even taken me to the police station to file a report. Now it was on Maya’s hand. Left by his grandmother. To ward off evil for her. “Quite valuable.” I heard my own voice. “Keep it safe.” I walked out of the delivery room. The hallway was empty. I leaned against the wall, pulling out my phone. I opened my banking app, navigating to the joint account with Henry. Balance: $1083.46. I scrolled through the transaction history. One by one. Outgoing, $50,000. Outgoing, $30,000. Outgoing, $80,000. Outgoing, outgoing, outgoing. Each transaction to the same recipient, the memo always blank. Two years, $410,000 transferred out. My hand, clutching the phone, finally began to shake. Not from fear, but my body was breaking down before my mind. 4 I stood in the hallway for about three minutes. Deep breaths, exhale, inhale, exhale. When my hand stopped shaking, I locked my phone and put it back in my pocket. Pushing the door, I returned to the nurse’s station. The duty nurse was filling out newborn records. Seeing me, she called out, “Dr. Evelyn, the family for 1602 has been asking outside if they can come in to see the baby.” 1602. Even their delivery room number was the same as my house number. “Let him in. Mother and baby are fine. Tell him to be careful not to touch the patient’s stitches.” My voice was flat. The nurse gave me an extra glance. “Dr. Evelyn, you look terrible. Do you want to take a break?” “No, I’m just going to the restroom.” One of the light tubes in the restroom was broken, flickering. I leaned over the sink, cold water running through my fingers. The person in the mirror looked unfamiliar. My eyes were red, but I wasn’t crying. I wanted to cry, but no tears came. A strange feeling, my heart empty, as if everything had broken. I pulled out my phone, opening Henry’s chat. The last message was from 11:07 PM last night, from him. “Goodnight, wife. Seattle is boiling, I miss you so much. Go to bed early.” It was accompanied by a photo of a hotel king-sized bed. I took a screenshot, saving it to my album. I scrolled up. Day before yesterday: “Meetings all day, so exhausted. More tomorrow.” Three days ago: “Seattle is so boring. Home is best.” Every message was a lie. Every message typed so smoothly, so naturally. When did it become so effortless for him to lie? I closed the chat. Opened my album, flipping to our joint photos. Last year for Thanksgiving, he took me to San Diego. In the photo, we stood by the ocean, he held me from behind, his eyes crinkling in a smile. I remembered him saying that day, “Evelyn, let’s go somewhere new every year, and when we have kids, we’ll bring them along.” I said yes. Back then, I didn’t know that in his heart, there was only an expiration date for me. I scrolled past our photos. The most recent three months of photos were all from the hospital: fellowship notes, cafeteria meals. No him. Because he wasn’t there. Or rather, he was there. In my apartment, with another woman. Peeling apples for her, taking her to prenatal check-ups, putting his ear to her belly to listen to the baby move. Then at eleven at night, he’d video call me, calling me his wife into the camera. I turned off my phone. Washed my face. Dried it with a tissue, and put on a fresh mask. As I walked out, passing the delivery room door, I heard Maya talking to Henry inside. The door wasn’t fully closed, and voices leaked out. “Honey, look, he looks just like you.” “Mhm, the nose is similar.” “Kiss him.” Henry let out a soft laugh. I stood outside the door for two seconds. Then I walked away. I finished my last two hours on shift. Changed out of my scrubs, picked up my bag, and walked out of the hospital entrance. 8:17 PM. I didn’t take a cab back to my fellowship dorm. I hailed a cab and went to Emerald Lakes. Building 14, Apartment 1602. My apartment. The elevator reached the 16th floor. I walked to apartment 1602. The door had a pink cartoon bear sticker, proclaiming “Happy Home.” I pulled out my key from my bag. The apartment was mine. The lock hadn’t been changed. The key slid in, a turn. The door opened.

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The air was thick with the lingering scent of us when his friend showed up. Ashton and I had just finished. His buddy, a bottle of bourbon dangling from his fingers, gave me a knowing once-over and let out a low whistle. “Whoa, bad timing? Damn, Ashton, you’re a lucky man.” A hot blush crept up my neck. I mumbled something about needing to buy groceries and fled the apartment. But as the door clicked shut behind me, I heard his friend’s voice, low and conspiratorial. “Seriously, man. Felicity’s coming to town soon. What’s the deal with the girl in your room?” My feet froze to the floor. A long moment passed before I heard Ashton’s voice, casual and laced with a dismissive sneer I’d never heard before. “What’s to think about? She’s just a colleague. A bit of fun, that’s all.” His friend clicked his tongue. “And Felicity?” “Felicity?” He tapped the ash from a cigarette, his voice softening. “She’s different.” 1 At that moment, my mind went completely blank. I’d been chasing him, sometimes subtly, sometimes not, for five years. I thought we were finally, truly together. I was even planning to take him home for Christmas to meet my parents. I’d already figured out which train tickets to book, how I’d introduce him to my relatives, all the charming spots and hidden diners in my hometown I wanted to show him… The beautiful little future I’d built in my head shattered like glass, destroyed by those few careless words. Just a colleague? A bit of fun? The phrases hit me like a bucket of ice water, and I couldn’t move. The conversation inside continued. I peeked through the crack in the door. “By the way, I heard Felicity applied for grad school here. That’s because of you, right?” Ashton chuckled, his eyes softening into something warm and gentle. “Yeah. I had someone look into it for her, she’s pretty much a shoo-in. When she gets here in a few days, I’ll take her to meet her advisor.” “Look at you, pulling out all the stops. A regular knight in shining armor for your little princess.” Felicity. I’d heard her name before. She was Ashton’s childhood neighbor, three or four years younger, still in college. He’d never mentioned any special feelings for her, so I’d always assumed he saw her as a little sister. “Since she’s coming, you should probably clean things up here. Don’t want the kid to see this and get her heart broken.” “You think I don’t know that? I’ve got it handled.” Ashton took a drag from his cigarette, his expression vanishing into a cloud of white smoke. I couldn’t listen anymore. Tears blurring my vision, I stumbled down the stairs and ran. 2 I couldn’t understand it. Just last night, he was whispering “I love you” into my ear in a haze of passion. How could he turn so cold, so fast? Ashton. In my mind, he was brilliant, proud, and a little aloof to the world, but always, always gentle with me. He was a year ahead of me in college, and now we were colleagues at the same massive tech firm. I’d fallen for him the first time I saw him on campus. After graduation, I followed him right to this company. Our workplace even encouraged inter-office dating, so I pursued him openly. At first, he barely gave me the time of day, but slowly, he started to come around. When he finally kissed me, pulling me into his arms, I thought my devotion had finally won his. I never imagined this was how he saw our relationship. “Where’d you go? You’ve been gone forever.” My phone rang. It was Ashton, his voice a low rumble. “Just browsing at the supermarket,” I said, wiping away a tear and forcing my voice to sound steady. “Alright. Well, take your time.” He paused. “Oh, hey, we’re out of the ultra-thins. Grab a box on your way back.” Just as the line went dead, I heard someone in the background chuckle. He’d actually said that to me in front of his friend. Shame and anger washed over me. “Just a bit of fun…” His words echoed in my head, a sharp knife twisting in my heart. God, Ava, you’re so cheap in his eyes. I took a deep, shaky breath and opened my email, finding the transfer offer Sarah from HR had sent a few days ago. The company wanted to promote me to department head and relocate me to the Chicago office next month. My hometown wasn’t far from Chicago. It was a promotion, a raise—a golden opportunity. But for Ashton, I’d turned it down without a second thought. Sarah had pulled me aside for a chat afterward. When she realized I was rejecting the offer because of him, she’d hesitated. “Ava, love is important, but so are you… Just think about it a little more.” Now… Now I finally understood. I quickly typed out a reply: I accept the transfer. 3 I didn’t go back to the apartment I shared with Ashton. I went to my old room in the company dorms instead. When he called that night asking me to come home, I just told him I was swamped with work. Sarah had mentioned that the Chicago position was highly coveted, with several people vying for it, so she advised me to keep it quiet until the New Year. I wasn’t an idiot. If Ashton never considered me his girlfriend, then there was no need for a breakup. Where I was going and what I was doing was none of his business. The end-of-year rush was brutal, though. I had to wrap up all my current projects before the transfer, so I wouldn’t leave a mess for my colleagues. I found myself working until 3 a.m., and I’d only been asleep for a few hours when Ashton’s call jolted me awake. “Ava? What’s the name of that place you get those breakfast burritos and that weird green juice from?” “Huh?” I squinted at my phone. It was only 6:30. Ashton was usually dead to the world at this hour. “You know, the one with the extra crispy hash browns inside… Is it the one on the corner or the food truck downtown?” “The one downtown.” “Got it.” The call ended, but I was wide awake. Sleep was impossible now. Ashton was a night owl who always skipped breakfast. During the years I was trying to win him over, I’d bring him all sorts of things to eat in the morning. He loved the burritos from that specific truck, so I’d often take an early bus across town, a half-hour ride each way, just to get them for him. Was he up early today to buy breakfast… for me? A bitter, hopeful feeling swelled in my chest. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken up early for me. Last winter, I came down with a nasty flu and was stuck in my dorm room. I was drifting in and out of a feverish sleep when I heard the doorbell ring, thinking I’d imagined it. Later, I found out he’d gotten up at five, a personal record for him. He’d made me rice porridge from scratch, the kind my mom used to make, then went to the pharmacy for medicine, delivering it all to my door before he had to be at work. He grew up wealthy; he’d never cooked a day in his life. He deliberately handed me the soup and medicine with his left hand, but I still saw the bandages on the index and middle fingers of his right hand, tucked at his side. I can still remember the comforting aroma of that porridge. But today… I waited until 9 a.m., the start of the workday. He never showed. 4 “Ava! Ava, you won’t believe who I saw at the subway station today.” At lunch, Dani sidled up next to me in the cafeteria line. She was my partner on my main project and my best friend at the company. “It was Ashton. He took the day off, did you know?” Dani watched my face carefully. “No, I didn’t,” I said, my voice flat. Usually, I’d wander over to his desk during our breaks, chat for a bit, maybe grab a coffee together. Today, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. “He was with this really sweet-looking girl, heading for the L-train. I bet they were going to Six Flags.” Six Flags? After we’d gotten together, I’d asked him to go with me several times. He always said no. Turns out it wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. He just didn’t want to go with me. “The girl twisted her ankle on the stairs, and he just knelt right down, took off her shoe, and started rubbing her foot. He was blowing on it and everything, looked like he was about to kiss it…” “I snapped a picture. Here, look.” Dani handed me her phone. In the photo, a girl with a delicate, fair-skinned face and exquisite features sat on the steps, dressed in a wool skirt and black stockings. Ashton was kneeling before her, cradling her foot on his knee like it was a priceless treasure. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I understood. The breakfast burrito this morning was for her. Taking the day off was for her. Felicity. She was here. “Look, Ava, don’t think I’m overstepping,” Dani said, “but you’ve been chasing this guy forever, and he’s never given you a straight answer. I always thought he was a player, and today just proves it.” “Now you see him for what he is, right?” My colleagues and his all knew I was pursuing him. But no one knew we’d actually been dating for a while. That was because Ashton had never made it official. I used to think it was just his personality, that he was private and didn’t like public displays. I even found his reserved-in-public, passionate-in-private persona charming. But between yesterday and today, even I couldn’t be that stupid anymore. Dani took her phone back and deleted the picture with a decisive tap. “Jerk. He’s disgusting.” “You need to stop hanging all your hopes on him! You’re gorgeous, Ava. There are plenty of guys in this office who’d kill for a chance with you. In fact, that cute new guy from R&D was just asking me about you…” “Thank you, Dani,” I managed a smile. “But I’m not looking to date right now. I’m…” I told her about the promotion and the transfer. Dani was trustworthy, and since she was my project partner, she deserved a heads-up. “Oh my God, congratulations! Ava! You have to treat me to dinner!” she squealed, throwing her arms around me in a hug. “Deal!” I laughed, prying her off me. I leaned in closer. “I heard from Sarah that they might be expanding the Chicago office even more in the second half of the year. Your department might send someone over…” “That would be amazing! I’d be the first to volunteer!” Dani grinned. “We could go to Navy Pier together!” 5 Two days later, Ashton showed up at my dorm room with a cup of bubble tea. I was on my laptop, trying to finish up some work. “Ava, can you please come home tonight? I can’t sleep when you’re not there.” The warm lamplight softened the lines of his face, making his eyes look deep and sincere. He sounded so loving, so gentle. My gaze fell on the cup on my desk. A coconut matcha latte, my old favorite. In the past, on the rare occasions I’d gotten upset with him, a single cup of this was all it took to soothe my anger. It wasn’t about the drink itself. It was because I was that easy to please. But things are different now, Ashton. “I’m not coming back. I’ll pick up the rest of my stuff in a few days.” I didn’t even look up from my screen. “What’s wrong?” He frowned slightly, then a look of understanding, mixed with a hint of amusement, crossed his face. He leaned over and pulled me into his arms. “I had to take a couple of days off for an emergency. My fault, I forgot to tell you. Is that it? You’re mad because you haven’t seen me for a few days? You’re the one who’s been hiding out here working late.” He buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply, trying to take things further in the privacy of my room. He’d done this before, and I’d mistaken it for love. Now I knew he was just horny. I shoved him away, hard. My arm knocked over the latte on the table. The pale green liquid splashed across the floor, blooming like a sickly flower and filling the air with a cloying sweetness that made my stomach turn. “Ava!” His voice finally sharpened with anger. He grabbed my wrist. “What the hell is your problem? I asked around. Your department is busy, but not this busy. What are you really doing here every night?” He trapped me against the desk, his lean forearms bracketing me. His dark, narrow eyes narrowed menacingly. “Or are you avoiding me to see someone else?” The air went still. My eyes suddenly burned with tears. I had wanted to end things quietly, to just disappear. But I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Ashton, I’m not shameless like you! You’re the one who doesn’t give a damn about me! You’re the one seeing someone else! Felicity! I know she’s here!” Ashton froze, his shock quickly morphing into fury. “How did you know? Are you spying on me?!” “Ava, we’re not married! We just slept together, and you’re already watching my every move… I’m very disappointed in you.” “I’m disappointed too,” I choked out, looking up at him. All the pain I’d bottled up over the last few days burst forth like a flood. This man, the man I had loved for years, had taken my love and forged it into a thousand tiny knives, plunging every single one of them into my heart. Seeing my tears, Ashton’s anger faltered. He fumbled for a tissue, trying to wipe my face. “I’m sorry, that was too harsh. I just mean… Ava, I need my space. You can’t control everything I do…” “I won’t anymore.” I pushed his hand away, wiping my tears on my sleeve, swallowing them down. I’m done with you, Ashton. I heard voices in the hallway; my roommate was coming back. “You should go,” I said, pushing him toward the door. Ashton stood there for a moment, then pressed the crumpled tissue into my hand. “Fine.” “Calm down. We’ll talk on the phone tonight.” 6 My roommate tiptoed around the puddle of latte on the floor, her eyes wide with surprise. “Ava, what happened?” “It’s nothing.” I grabbed a mop and cleaned the floor, scrubbing until it was spotless, as if nothing had ever been spilled. Then I took out my phone, blocked Ashton’s number, and blocked him on every social media app. That evening, my mom called. “Ava, have you and your boyfriend booked your train tickets yet? I cleaned out the guest room today, so he’ll have a place to stay…” I paused, then cut her off. “Mom… we broke up.” Every time I went home for the holidays, the first question from every aunt and uncle was about my relationship status. My parents never pressured me, but I knew they were secretly hoping I’d bring someone home. When my mom had called last week and I asked if I could bring my boyfriend for Christmas, she had been ecstatic. Now, just a few days later, I had to let her down. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before my mom’s voice returned, as cheerful as ever. “Well, that’s okay! You’re young, these things happen.” “You’ll find someone better when the time is right.” “Ava, just make sure you book your own ticket home soon! I can’t wait to see you…” “Okay,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. The next day, I took a half-day off and went back to the apartment. I threw my few clothes and makeup into a suitcase. The stuffed animals, the lipstick, the handbag he’d bought me—they all went into a trash bag. Downstairs, I tossed the bag into the dumpster and walked away, pulling my suitcase behind me without a single look back. I wondered if Ashton had noticed I’d blocked him, if he was furious. Or maybe he was too busy with Felicity to even care. Either way, he didn’t contact me again for the next few days. Soon, it was the company’s annual anniversary party. Employees were allowed to bring a plus-one, and the ballroom was filled with spouses and partners. A few of Ashton’s colleagues passed by me, their eyes darting away as they mumbled a hello. “Ava!” Dani called out, nodding toward the front of the room. “Ashton’s here. And he brought her.” I turned. Ashton stood with his back to me at the dessert table, next to Felicity. She took a small bite of a strawberry panna cotta, then playfully fed the rest of it to him. Ashton put on a show of exasperated affection. I remembered how he’d never once touched food I’d already eaten. Even when we shared a bag of chips, we had to have separate bowls. The ballroom was chaotic, with kids running everywhere. As I stood there, lost in thought, a little boy about five or six years old, holding a chocolate ice cream cone, ran straight into my white dress. Before I could even react, he burst into tears. His mother, assuming I was the one who had bullied her precious child, immediately started scolding me. Dani tried to explain, but the woman wouldn’t listen. A crowd of colleagues gathered, but no one knew what had happened, so they just stood there watching. Finally, a guy holding a large camera stepped in front of me. “Ma’am, your son ran into her. I caught the whole thing on video, if you’d like to see?” After reviewing the footage, the mother offered a half-hearted apology and dragged her son away. The guy turned to me and smiled. He had a kind, handsome face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He held out his hand. “Noah. R&D department.” Dani nudged me with her elbow, a teasing glint in her eye. “The cute new guy from R&D.” Noah’s ears turned a little red. I got the hint. “Ava, from Product,” I said, shaking his hand politely. “Thanks for that.” “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” 7 I was still trying to scrub the chocolate stain out of my dress when a call came through from an unknown number. I answered. It was Ashton’s deep voice. “Ava, where are you? Who was that guy?” He’d seen what happened. He didn’t even ask if I was okay. The first thing he asked was who the other guy was. “Ava, stop this childish game! You blocked me, you cleared out your stuff from the apartment, and now you’re putting on a little show with this guy right in front of me?” His voice was strained with disappointment and fatigue. “This is exhausting!” “I only brought Felicity today to introduce her to a few people. She’s leaving in a couple of days. You don’t have to be so petty…” I almost laughed. He actually thought I’d staged the whole thing just to get his attention. “Ashton, I’m not being petty! What are we, anyway? We’re colleagues, remember? Why would I put on a show for you? Frankly, this dress is worth more to me than you are!” I dabbed at the stain again. It was fading, but it wouldn’t come out completely. A shame. It had cost me three hundred dollars. “Fine, Ava. Just fine,” he seethed through the phone. “You…” I didn’t hear the rest. I hung up and blocked his new number. It was all just noise. I didn’t want to hear another word. When I came out of the restroom, Dani and Noah were rushing toward me, both out of breath. Noah was holding a paper bag from a sportswear store. “Ava, this was the best I could do on short notice,” he said. “It’s just a tracksuit, but you can change into it for now.” “Thank you, Dani!” I said, taking the bag. “Don’t thank me! It was his idea, and his money. I just picked the size,” Dani said with a grin, pointing at Noah. The tall, broad-shouldered young man gave me a shy smile.

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