Category: English

Eight years ago, I was framed for drunk driving, a tragedy that claimed dozens of lives. I wanted to expose the truth, but I found my parents had already fabricated evidence for my adopted brother, Caleb, forcing me to take the fall. I pleaded with my fiancée, Ashley, but she just screamed, calling me a murderer. Later, the victims’ families, in their grief-fueled rage, brutally severed my hand tendons, leaving me unable to ever hold a paintbrush again. Eight years on, I walked out of prison and became a security guard. My former fiancée, Ashley, reappeared. Her eyes were red, her voice laced with accusation as she gritted out: “Leo, why did you disappear? Do you have any idea how long your parents and I have been looking for you?” I sat motionless in the security booth, dressed in my uniform. “Ma’am, I think you’ve got the wrong person.” But Ashley wouldn’t let it go. She lunged forward, grabbing my hand, trying to drag me out. “You’re always so stubborn. Eight years ago, your stubbornness killed so many people. How long are you going to keep this up?” Her voice was loud, but it choked off the moment her gaze fell upon my right hand. She lowered her head, staring at my twisted hand, her fingers trembling as they traced the grotesque scars. Eight years had passed, and the old wounds no longer hurt. But Ashley’s fingertips felt like knives, slicing open my old scars inch by inch. Cold sweat instantly drenched my clothes. The terror of having my tendons brutally severed eight years ago came rushing back, and I couldn’t stop my body from shaking uncontrollably. Ashley’s voice was hoarse. “Leo, back then, did it hurt?” “I’m sorry.” I didn’t answer her, but her strange behavior had already drawn the attention of the security captain. He ran over anxiously, shouting, “What are you doing? Let him go!” Before he could get close, a group of students from a nearby art academy swarmed Ashley. “You’re Ashley, aren’t you? The most famous artist in the country! Could you sign an autograph for me?” Thanks to those students, Ashley released me. I instinctively took a step back, widening the distance between us. The captain finally understood what was happening. He turned to me, his face filled with shock. “These students are saying you’re someone important. Who exactly are you?” Before I could answer, one of the students spoke again. “I heard you’ve been looking for your fiancé from back then, the one who caused all that trouble. It couldn’t be this security guard, could it?” The student gave me a dismissive glance. “But your fiancé was a prodigy artist. This guy’s just a security guard, and he’s disabled. You must have the wrong person.” I gave a bitter laugh. Yeah, that’s me. Now, I can’t even hold a paintbrush. There’s nothing left of my old self. But Ashley, who was signing autographs, heard it. Her face instantly darkened, and her hand stopped mid-signature. “Shut up!” “This is between Leo and me. It’s not for you to talk about!” She pushed through the crowd and walked towards me, extending a gilded invitation. I looked down, the words on the card stinging my eyes. [Caleb Miller & Ashley Wedding Invitation] So, she was marrying my adopted brother. “Leo.” A flicker of pain crossed Ashley’s face. “Your mistake eight years ago caused me so much pain. Caleb was there for me, he stood by me for eight years. I can’t let him down.” “You once said you wanted to see me in a wedding dress. I hope you’ll come.” I took Ashley’s wedding invitation and simply placed it on the counter beside me, ignoring it. Just as I thought the matter was over, that very night, I received a termination notice from the factory. “You’re still young, and you used to be a great artist. You’re too good for this place.” Mr. Henderson’s voice trembled as he spoke over the phone. “I’ll pay you $500 for this month, but please, just don’t come back.” I was stunned. Before I could ask for more details, he had already blocked my number. Then, Ashley’s call came through. “Leo.” Her voice was thick with exhaustion. “You shouldn’t be a security guard. I’ve talked to the factory. Come home. Your parents and I will take care of you. I can even help you get back into the art world. You don’t have to…” She hadn’t finished her sentence before I hung up.

Why? Why did she always get to decide everything? Eight years ago, she wouldn’t listen to my explanations, convinced I was in the wrong. She punished me in her ‘own right way’ – letting my hand tendons be severed. And now, she doesn’t ask me either. She unilaterally shatters the peace of my life, without ever having trusted me or doubted the ‘truth’! Ashley’s words filled me with a nauseating rage. I sat on my dorm bed, taking a long time to calm down. My roommate, Mike, noticed something was off and poured me a cup of hot water. “What’s going on?” I knew he had a million questions. He had been good to me. When I first got out of prison, I had nothing, and my hand was crippled. He took pity on me, stepped in, and got me this security guard job. Even though the pay was only a measly $200 a month, with food and lodging included, it at least gave me a place to go. So, I decided not to hide anything from him. I bought some food, and I told him everything. He listened in silence for a long time, then patted my shoulder, letting out a sigh. “Forget it. We’ll find another job. If you have nowhere to go, I have a basement at my place. You can stay there for now.” I was supposed to move out of the dorm the next day. As I finished packing my luggage and stepped out, the victims’ families, somehow having learned of my whereabouts, were already blocking the dorm entrance. Seeing me, their emotions immediately ignited. “You animal! We finally found you!” “You killed our loved ones, why do you still get to live?” With that, they swarmed me, surrounding me completely. I was about to speak, but a kick landed on my stomach. I crumpled to the ground, clutching my stomach in pain, and then fists and sticks rained down on me like hail. Crimson blood seeped from my body, and my luggage scattered across the ground. *Drip, drop—* The sky was a dismal gray, and then, the rain began to pour down. Whether they were tired of hitting me, or because of the rain, they stopped their assault. A few frustrated kicks later, they left. After everyone dispersed, I was the only one left lying on the ground, unable to move. The heavy rain washed away the bloodstains on my body. I tried to get up several times, only to fall back down. “Are you okay?” Just then, Mike ran over with an umbrella. He helped me up from the ground and took me to the hospital on his old motorcycle. But no matter if it was a big hospital or a small clinic, they all waved their hands, refusing to admit me. Finally, an old doctor, unable to bear it, secretly slipped me a bottle of medicine and explained, “Kid, someone’s put the word out. No one dares to treat you.” “Go home quickly!” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. Ashley, is this what you meant by ‘helping’ me? You’re truly ruthless! In the end, I had no choice but to return to Mike’s basement. But just as I walked in and prepared to rest, there was a knock at the door. It was Caleb and my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Miller. Caleb saw me and immediately his eyes welled up. “Leo, why are you living in a place like this?” “I know you’ve always liked Ashley. If you don’t want this, then… then I just won’t get married. I’ll give her back to you…” By the end, he was whimpering softly, as if bearing an immense grievance. This was Caleb’s specialty. Ever since we were kids, whenever he wanted something from me, he’d use this trick. Because his parents had died in a car accident trying to save my parents, my parents showered all their guilt and affection on him. Whenever he cried, it was automatically assumed I had bullied him.

Sure enough, seeing his pitiful state, my father stepped forward and slapped me. “Don’t you dare put on such a disgusting act here.” “Do you think putting on this pathetic show will make us feel sorry for you, or make Ashley come back to you? Don’t dream about it!” My mother, Mrs. Miller, quickly comforted Caleb, then said to me coldly, “Alright, someone’s already found you. If you don’t come back with us now, the outside world will start saying we mistreated you, and it wouldn’t be good if those busybodies figured out what happened back then.” “Come back with us now!” Seeing that I didn’t move, my father interpreted it as a challenge to his authority. He angrily kicked me, hitting my unhealed wound square on. Blood seeped through, and my father’s hand, which was raised to hit me again, froze in mid-air. After a moment, he slowly lowered his hand. My mother’s voice also took on a hint of worry. “What are those injuries on your body?” I gritted my teeth, my body still trembling slightly from the intense pain. Caleb, seeing this, a flicker of panic crossed his face. “Dad, Mom, Leo must be so angry he’s hurting himself, like they do on TV.” He said, wiping away tears as he walked up to me. “Leo, please don’t make Dad and Mom worry. Don’t be so careless with yourself.” He sounded sincere, but then he leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Why didn’t those people just beat you to death? So useless!” After that, he feigned concern, giving me a few more insincere warnings. My parents clearly believed Caleb’s words again, and my father scoffed, “If he wants to harm himself, let him. Caleb, don’t be too kind. Let’s go, ignore him!” With that, they turned and left with Caleb. They didn’t see the triumphant smirk Caleb shot me as he looked back. After they left, I closed the door, retrieved the first aid kit, and, enduring the pain, changed my bandages. Just as I finished, Mike knocked and came in. He rubbed his hands, his face full of difficulty. “Sigh…” He paused for a long time, as if choosing his words carefully, then finally spoke again. “It’s not that I don’t want you to stay, it’s just… sigh, those people from the city came to talk to me. My kids are still young, and I just can’t risk it…” At that point, what more was there for me to understand? I didn’t blame him. I knew he had done his best. I thanked him again, and to avoid burdening him, I moved out that very night. As soon as I left, Ashley arrived with a moving company. Seeing her, my suspicions were confirmed. I frowned and spoke. “Ashley, what’s the point of this? Why threaten innocent people?” Ashley’s eyes darted away, glancing at Mike’s house, then she said, “Leo, I don’t want to either. You’re forcing my hand.” “Just come back with me. I’ll help you get out of this mess. What’s so hard about that?” I didn’t answer. The atmosphere became instantly oppressive. From that small town to the city, we drove in silence. When we arrived, it was a small apartment, and my parents were already waiting for me on the sofa. Seeing them, I instinctively wanted to leave, but Ashley slammed the door shut. My father spoke first. “Where are you going? Haven’t you disgraced us enough?” My mother scoffed. “For a murderer like you, it’s a blessing we’re even giving you a place to hide.” “I know you’re upset about Ashley marrying Caleb, but look at yourself. Do you think someone with a criminal record like you deserves Ashley? Until the wedding, you’ll stay here. You must report to us before going out and wear a mask!” My parents’ words almost made me laugh out loud. “Dad, Mom, me? A murderer? A disgrace?” “About what happened back then, you yourselves know…”

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My husband’s first love got drunk and was taken away by five strange men for an entire night. To protect her, he started a vicious rumor, claiming I was the one with those men that night. Overnight, I became the target of everyone’s scorn. My unborn baby was called a bastard. I confronted my husband Callum, raw and hysterical. He didn’t even have the decency to care. “Luna isn’t married yet. If this gets out, she’ll be shamed.” I stared coldly at the man I’d loved for six years. The truth washed over me. He had never loved me. “What about me!” I stood before Callum, my eyes blazing red. He was cradling Luna Hayes, his voice soft and comforting. His gaze was tender, full of a devotion I never saw when he looked at me. Luna, in her white dress, shrank against him like a frightened bird. Callum finally turned. His eyes darted away, guilty. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. The moment I struck him, Luna threw her arms out to shield him. “How dare you hit Callum? He was just trying to help me! Do you have to be so petty?” Callum looked uncomfortable. He pushed Luna’s arms away and carefully pulled me into his embrace. “Don’t cry, Rayna. Luna is still unmarried. If that night gets out, her reputation will be ruined.” My heart froze. “And what about MY reputation?” “Do you even know what they’re calling me? A slut! Our child, a bastard!” Guilt flickered in Callum’s eyes, but he remained silent. Luna swayed dramatically. “This is all my fault. Rayna, I’ll go explain-” Callum immediately pulled her into an embrace. “Rayna,” he said hoarsely, “if I ignore the rumors, they can’t hurt you.” “But Luna… she’s innocent. She just made one drunken mistake. This would destroy her.” “What about our baby?” My voice broke. “Can you really condemn him to that shame?” “Callum,” Luna whispered, tears glistening just so, “I can’t let your child bear this shame. We must tell the truth. It’s my mistake to own.” Pain flashed in Callum’s eyes. “In three, four years… when he’s older, everyone will have forgotten.” Tears fell as I swallowed the sharp pain in my chest. “Is she worth this? Worth destroying your wife and child?” “What the hell am I to you?” Callum held me tightly. “I’m sorry, Rayna,” he rasped. “But Luna saved my life once. I can’t just abandon her now!” I beat my fists against his chest, thrashing in his grasp. His debt became my price to pay? Callum seemed impervious to the blows, holding me fast. “I won’t let you suffer for long,” he vowed. “Once Luna is safely married…” “I’ll tell everyone the truth. I’ll clear your name.” I stared at his determined expression. All the churning agony inside me suddenly cooled, hardening into a single, cold resolution. This baby… I couldn’t keep it.

Callum forced me to go home. Luna followed behind us. The moment I stepped into the living room, I noticed the changes. The sofa was dressed in new, pale pink covers. My plants were gone. A pair of feminine slippers sat neatly by the shoe cabinet. “After the incident,” Callum explained carefully, “Luna developed a trauma about hotels. I’m just letting her stay here temporarily.” “Once I find her a suitable place, she’ll move out.” I tugged my lips into something resembling a smile and said nothing, my face a carefully blank mask. My calmness seemed to frustrate him. At dinner, I watched numbly as he tried to win me over by serving me food. That night, I lay staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Before long, the mattress dipped beside me. Callum wrapped his arms around me, his embrace an apology. I wanted no part of it. I pushed his hands away. His eyes reddened. “Rayna,” he pleaded, his voice humble, “please don’t push me away like this.” A clap of thunder shook the house. Beneath its roar, his plea sounded especially small. I looked at his red-rimmed eyes, my heart aching. Just as I was about to speak, frantic knocking interrupted us. “Help! Callum, save me!” His expression shifted instantly. He released me and rushed to open the door. Luna collapsed weakly into his arms, her face pale with terror. “I keep reliving that night,” she whispered. “Stay with me. I’m so scared.” “Okay. I’ll stay with you.” His hand gently patted her back. He glanced at me, apology written across his face. “Rayna, that night… it was storming like this. The thunder triggers her trauma. I have to stay with her tonight.” Before I could respond, he turned and carried her away. I slowly sank back onto the bed, closing my eyes against the hurt welling up inside. Callum, I’m scared of thunder too! You promised you’d stay with me through every storm. But for Luna, you forgot. I slowly stroked my belly. The tears I’d been holding back finally slid down my cheeks. I’m sorry, baby. I was so excited for you to be born. But your father changed his heart. He doesn’t deserve to be your dad. I hope you’ll be reborn into a happy family. The next morning, Callum served breakfast to both Luna and me before leaving for work. Not long after he left, his mother showed up at the house. The moment she walked in, she slapped me across the face. I was caught off guard. My cheek burned and swelled. Mrs. Reid stared at me coldly. Her eyes were full of disgust. “I thought you were just petty and small-minded. I didn’t know you were out sleeping around!” “A daughter-in-law like you-the Reid family can’t afford to keep you. You’ll divorce Callum tomorrow!” “And that bastard in your belly must be aborted! Even if you give birth, the Reid family will never acknowledge it!” I swallowed the metallic taste in my mouth. I looked at Mrs. Reid calmly. “Perfect. I don’t want to have Callum’s baby anyway.” “I’ll go to the hospital right now and get rid of it!” “Rayna, what are you talking about!” “I won’t divorce you! And you’re not allowed to abort the baby!” Callum rushed back, drenched in sweat. His face changed completely when he heard my words. “She’s pregnant with God knows whose bastard!” “What spell has she cast on you? Why can’t you leave this slut!” Mrs. Reid scolded him furiously. Callum held me close. Seeing I wasn’t seriously hurt, he slowly relaxed. Faced with his mother’s questioning, his eyes showed inner struggle. His mouth opened and closed several times. I watched him look so conflicted. A faint hope rose in my heart. Even if he just told the truth now, it would be something! “I love Rayna to my bones. So I don’t care about this.” “The baby in her belly-I’ll raise it as my own.” Hearing his words, I stood there stunned. The blood in my veins nearly stopped flowing. My heart felt like it had a huge hole torn through it, desolate and empty. For Luna’s sake, my husband personally nailed me to the pillar of shame. In that moment, I gave up completely. I felt no more love for the man beside me.

“Not only does your mom not want this baby. I don’t want it either.” After Mrs. Reid left in anger, I coldly pushed away Callum’s arms. “Rayna, do you hate me that much? You won’t even keep the product of our love?” “Yes. I hate you. You don’t deserve for me to have your baby!” I stared into his eyes. Each word came out deliberate and clear. Seeing my unwavering resolve, fury flashed in Callum’s eyes. His voice turned to ice. “You WILL have this baby! You’ll stay in this villa for now!” With those words, he stormed out. He couldn’t bear to see the pure hatred burning in my gaze. From that day on, I was his prisoner. He took away my phone. He sent people to guard me in the villa. I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t let me go. He clearly didn’t love me anymore. After living in the villa for a few days, Luna’s mother barged in with her entourage. The moment she entered, she mocked me. “Carrying a bastard in your belly. I don’t know how you still have the nerve to occupy the position of Mrs. Reid.” “My Luna is already pregnant with Callum’s baby. If you’re smart, you’ll leave on your own. Save everyone the embarrassment!” Luna was pregnant? I looked at Luna. Her eyes flickered and she hurried upstairs. Mrs. Hayes started ordering the servants around the moment she walked in. “My daughter is carrying Mr. Reid’s son. How can she stay in a guest room?” “Hurry up and throw out all of Rayna’s things. Let my daughter move into the master bedroom!” The villa servants had already heard all the gossip from outside. Plus Callum hadn’t come by in days. They clearly despised me. They all tried to please Mrs. Hayes. They roughly threw out everything of mine from the master bedroom. “Stop it right now!” When I saw my mother’s jade bracelet-her final gift to me-shatter, I screamed in rage. I grabbed a baseball bat from the corner. Like a madwoman, I started swinging at everyone. Mrs. Hayes got hit with the bat several times. She hopped around cursing. In the chaos, Callum rushed back. “What are you all doing?” The servants who were about to attack me all froze. They looked at him anxiously. Eyes red, I walked to where the broken bracelet lay. Carefully, I picked up the pieces. “Rayna…” Callum also saw the shattered bracelet. He knew how important it was to me. “Callum, my daughter is pregnant with your child. When will you marry her?” “And this promiscuous bitch-hurry up and kick her out.” Mrs. Hayes thought Callum was on her side. She kept pointing at me accusingly. “Shut up!” “I will NEVER divorce Rayna. I won’t marry Luna!” Callum’s eyes turned red with anger. Mrs. Hayes wanted to argue with Callum, but the security guards threw her out. “I’ll find the most professional person to repair the bracelet. Don’t cry!” Callum looked at me carefully. “Even if it’s repaired, it can never go back to what it was.” I looked down at the broken bracelet. My tone was loaded with meaning. “It will!” Callum held me tightly, murmuring. “In a few days, I’ll take Luna abroad for an abortion.” “After this is all over, we’ll definitely be as good as we were before!”

Over the next few days, he stayed at the villa with both Luna and me. He took care of us two pregnant women meticulously. Luna’s pregnancy symptoms were severe. Callum stayed by her side almost constantly, like a devoted husband. After being locked in the villa for over a month, I gradually softened my attitude toward Callum so I could get out and abort the baby as soon as possible. “You don’t need to keep me locked up anymore. I’ve thought it through.” “The baby is innocent. No matter what, I’ll have this child!” “Really?” Joy bloomed in Callum’s eyes. “I’ve never lied to you,” I said tonelessly. “I’m not starting now.” Callum pulled me into a crushing embrace. “In a couple days, I’ll take Luna abroad for the surgery.” “Once she’s recovered, I’ll come back. Then we’ll live a good life together!” I made a soft sound of agreement. My bowed head hiding the ice in my gaze. Two days later, Callum took Luna abroad. I sat quietly in the villa, waiting. I knew Mrs. Reid would come. She would never allow me to have this child. That afternoon, she arrived with bodyguards. “Grab this woman! Take her to the hospital!” “No need.” I stood, meeting her gaze directly. “I’ll go myself. “YOU are the one forcing me to abort Callum’s baby!” Mrs. Reid looked at me with utter contempt, as if I were filth. “You dare call that bastard in your belly Callum’s child? You’re shameless!” “He may be fooled by you, but I’m not!” “This bastard must die!” I switched off my phone’s recording function, giving Mrs. Reid a meaningful look. “I hope you won’t regret this.”

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“Principal, her private life is a mess! She just had an abortion! You should revoke her eligibility to speak!” It was the university’s Freshman Welcome Ceremony. I was supposed to give a speech as an outstanding student, but my mom, Veronica, snatched the microphone right out of my hand. Instantly, I became the laughingstock of the entire university. My boyfriend slapped me hard and broke up with me. Classmates scrawled “slut” all over my clothes. In despair, I jumped from the rooftop. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before the Freshman Welcome Ceremony. I secretly swapped Veronica’s birth control pills for vitamin tablets. This time, I’d make sure she got a taste of public humiliation and ruin herself. Dinner table, the atmosphere was heavy. Veronica cut a piece of steak and placed it on my plate. “Eat more. The Freshman Welcome Ceremony is tomorrow. You need to be well-rested.” I silently pushed the steak to the side. “I don’t like it.” Veronica’s face darkened. “You’re going to be speaking on stage as the freshman representative in a few days. You *have* to be healthy, right?” Tiffany chimed in. “Anya, Veronica is just looking out for you.” “It’s such an honor to speak as the freshman representative.” Seeing my silence, Veronica’s voice shot up, practically a screech. “I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?” “Have you memorized your speech for tomorrow? Don’t you dare embarrass yourself on stage!” My dad, Robert, couldn’t stand it. He frowned. “Enough, let her eat in peace.” Veronica immediately turned her矛头 on Robert. “What do you know! I’m motivating her!” “She’s the focus of the entire university right now; she can’t afford to make a single mistake!” “Anya, I heard your university has an exchange student spot this year, chosen from the freshmen. The requirements are super high.” Tiffany brought it up, seemingly casually. Veronica, predictably, spoke up. “An exchange student? Which country?” “I think it’s the US. The tuition and living expenses for a year are hundreds of thousands of dollars, all covered by the university.” As soon as she heard “hundreds of thousands,” Veronica’s eyes lit up. A flicker of greed and calculation passed through them. Brenda gasped too. “Something that good? Then my daughter absolutely has to go!” “Her grades are so good, and she’s the freshman representative; there’s no way she won’t get it!” A hint of triumph crossed Veronica’s face, but then she frowned again. “Her? Look at her frail appearance; a strong gust of wind could probably knock her over.” “If she goes abroad, with no one to take care of her, what if she gets sick?” Tiffany immediately jumped in. “That’s right, Anya’s health isn’t great; she’s always had a delicate constitution since childhood.” “The competition for this spot is probably brutal, and Anya’s body might not be able to handle it.” I watched their coordinated act, a cold sneer forming in my heart. In my previous life, I burned the midnight oil for countless nights to get that exchange student spot. But because Veronica caused a huge scene at the university, I completely lost my eligibility. In the end, Tiffany actually got the replacement slot. This time, I wouldn’t let them succeed. “Mom, I don’t want to fight for that spot.” “It’s too much work. I just want to enjoy university.” Veronica froze. Brenda and Tiffany exchanged surprised glances. Veronica looked at me suspiciously. “Are you serious? You’re giving up such a good opportunity?” “Are you trying to pull some trick on me again?” “No, I just feel like my body truly isn’t up to it.” I deliberately showed weakness, shifting the focus to Tiffany. Watching the mother and daughter arrogantly scheming, a cold laugh echoed in my mind. This was just the first step. Let them fight over it themselves. The harder they fought, the harder they’d fall. Tiffany hurriedly waved her hands. “Anya, I didn’t mean that…” Veronica, however, cut her off, her eyes gleaming with cunning. “Since Anya isn’t going, we can’t let this opportunity go to waste.” “Tomorrow, we’ll go talk to Anya’s professor.” Brenda’s eyes lit up. “Will that work?” “Why wouldn’t it?” Veronica smiled. “She can go tell the professor that she’s not feeling well and wants to voluntarily give the opportunity to her cousin.” “The professor will see how thoughtful she is and will surely agree.” A flush crept up Tiffany’s cheeks, and she excitedly clenched her fists. Robert listened from the side, his brow furrowed. “What kind of nonsense is this? This is absurd!” Veronica glared at him. “You shut up! It’s not your place to speak in this house!” She looked at me, her voice commanding. “After your speech tomorrow, you’ll take us to your professor.” I nodded. “Got it, Mom.” Late that night, Veronica brought a glass of milk into my room. “Drink this milk. Don’t be nervous tomorrow.” It was exactly the same as in my previous life. Last time, after I drank the milk, I felt groggy every day. Veronica then had even more reason to claim I was frail. I took the glass and dutifully drank it all. “Thanks, Mom.” Veronica looked at me with satisfaction. After she left the room, I immediately went to the bathroom and vomited all the milk. Then, I walked into her bedroom. From the nightstand, I took out the bottle of birth control pills she always took. Skillfully, I removed the pills and replaced them with the vitamins I had prepared long ago. Mom, didn’t you always say I was your pride? This time, I’ll let you personally experience what it feels like to fall from grace to rock bottom.

On Freshman Welcome Ceremony day, the auditorium was packed. I took a deep breath, my heart filled with a profound stillness. It was my turn. I could clearly see Veronica, Brenda, and Tiffany sitting in the first row. Their gazes were like three sharp daggers, fixed firmly on me. “Distinguished faculty, staff, and my fellow students…” I began, my voice clear and steady. There was none of the nervousness or trembling from my previous life. A polite ripple of applause swept through the hall. My speech was about to end. Following the protocol, I bowed in thanks to all the faculty and students. The moment I straightened up, a figure suddenly darted from the audience. It was Veronica! She snatched the microphone from my hand so quickly that no one had time to react. The entire hall fell silent. All eyes focused on the stage, on Veronica. Unlike last time, I didn’t feel a chilling dread. Instead, my heart was pounding wildly. Not from fear, but from… excitement. The show, finally, was beginning. She held the microphone, her voice shrill and tearful. “Principal! Professors!” “Please, I beg you, revoke my daughter’s speaking eligibility!” Her words exploded like a bombshell in the auditorium. A wave of commotion erupted below the stage. I stood my ground, watching her performance with detached interest. “She doesn’t deserve it! She doesn’t deserve to stand here!” “She’s not at all what you see!” She cried frantically. “Her private life is a mess! She got herself pregnant at such a young age!” “To come to university, she just had an abortion a few days ago!” “Her body is still so weak; the doctor said she needs bed rest. I’m afraid she’ll collapse on stage if she stands for too long!” The entire hall fell into a deathly silence. Everyone’s gaze shifted from Veronica to me. I saw the Principal’s face turn ashen. The professors began to murmur amongst themselves, exchanging speculative glances. “No wonder she looks a bit pale; she just had surgery…” “I can’t believe it; such a good student, but her private life is so messy.” Tiffany, meanwhile, rushed to my side, her face full of feigned concern. “Anya, are you okay? You look so unwell.” “Quick, let’s go sit down and rest.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it seemed to confirm Veronica’s words that I truly was frail. I shoved her hand away. I looked at the woman still performing on stage. My biological mother. She was still wailing. “I’m doing all this for her own good! How could a mother harm her own daughter?” “She’s just too strong-willed, but health is paramount!” “I was afraid she’d exhaust herself and wouldn’t be able to have children later, so I resorted to such a desperate measure!” What magnificent maternal love. To protect her daughter’s health, she didn’t hesitate to ruin her reputation in front of thousands of people. A dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips. Veronica turned, looking at me in shock. “What are you laughing at?” Step by step, I walked towards her. I took the microphone back from her hand. “Mom.” My voice wasn’t loud, but through the microphone, it clearly resonated throughout the entire auditorium. “Are you done?”

Veronica was stunned by my reaction. She stared blankly at me, unable to speak. I ignored her and turned to the university leadership. I bowed deeply. “I apologize, Principal, professors.” “I apologize for disrupting the Freshman Welcome Ceremony due to my personal matters.” My tone was calm. The Principal’s expression softened slightly. “Student, you…” I cut him off. “Regarding what my mother just said, I’d like to clarify a few things.” I turned, facing all the faculty and students. “First, I am not pregnant, nor have I had any surgery.” “Second, my private life is perfectly clean.” After speaking, I looked at Veronica. “Mom, you wanted to use this method to make the university believe I have an unsuitable character, thereby revoking my eligibility.” “And then, have my equally excellent and healthy cousin, Tiffany, take my place.” “Is that right?” The moment my words fell, Tiffany’s face drained of all color. Brenda also panicked, hastily waving her hands. “What are you babbling about, child! We didn’t!” Veronica’s face was a mask of fury. She hadn’t expected me to expose her in front of everyone. She trembled with rage, pointing at me. “You… you ungrateful wretch!” “I worked so hard to raise you, and this is how you slander me?” She started crying again, her acting utterly convincing. “How could I have given birth to such a monster!” “Every word I said is true! Do you dare go to the hospital for a check-up!” She was cornering me. Forcing me to prove my innocence against the filth she’d slung at me. In my previous life, that’s exactly how she pushed me to the brink of suicide. The university, to quell public opinion, advised me to withdraw. And she, only when I was driven to despair, offered a reluctant apology. “I only had good intentions. How was I to know they’d actually believe it?” I raised the microphone and spoke to everyone in the audience. “I can go to the hospital for a check-up to prove my innocence.” “However, before that, I’d like to ask everyone to watch a video.” Saying this, I took out my phone and connected it to the auditorium’s big screen. The screen showed Veronica, Brenda, and Tiffany, sitting on a sofa. “…It’s settled then! Tomorrow, Brenda, Tiffany and I will go to the university together!” “Once I say that, her spot will definitely be gone, hmph.” The auditorium fell into a deathly silence once more. Everyone watched the screen in astonishment. Veronica looked as if she’d been struck by lightning, frozen stiff. She pointed at me, utterly speechless. “You… you…” Tiffany had already crumpled to the floor, terrified. Brenda shrieked directly. “You recorded us! You actually secretly recorded us!” I turned off the video and put away my phone. “I just have a habit of documenting things.” I looked at Veronica. “Mom, now, do you still want me to go to the hospital for a check-up?” “Or, perhaps we should call the police first and let them determine whether such public defamation and false accusations constitute slander?” Veronica’s body almost swayed. All her pretense had been publicly torn to shreds by me. Whispers erupted from the audience. “Oh my god, is that her real mom?” “To get her niece the spot, she’d ruin her own daughter?” “That cousin isn’t any good either, too cunning.” I looked at Veronica’s face, feeling not a trace of satisfaction. Just then, several university security guards rushed onto the stage. “Madam, please leave immediately!” Veronica, being escorted out by the security guards, was still shouting at me. “I’m your mother! You can’t do this to me!” “You’ll regret this! You’ll definitely regret this!” Brenda and Tiffany were also led away from the scene. The farce finally concluded. I held my speech manuscript and walked off the stage. The moment I stepped out of the auditorium, someone blocked my path.

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After being bound to the Compulsory Truth System, my billionaire parents finally took me home. Chloe, the fake daughter, tearfully asked: “Now that you’re back, should I leave?” I snapped back: “Then get out already!” My billionaire parents fumed, “Do you believe we’ll kick you out again?” My mouth blurted out, “Oh, for real? Awesome! Bye-bye then!” Then I became a detective. Officer Blake, looking suspicious, pointed at three photos and asked: “There’s been a serial murder case in our city recently. Who among these three is the killer?” I gave an answer that nobody expected. They were stunned, but I just smiled. After being bound to the Compulsory Truth System, I’d been super careful, keeping my mouth shut whenever possible. I couldn’t help it; my mouth had a mind of its own. But Chloe, the fake daughter, just had to ask, her voice trembling with fake tears: “Since you’re back, should I really leave?” My mouth said: “Don’t just leave, *run*.” Chloe froze, then burst into louder sobs. My dad, Mr. Sterling, roared: “Get upstairs, now!” I scurried up like a shot. Back in the bedroom, which was basically a presidential suite, I locked the door and let out a long sigh of relief. This stupid system was such a pain. Dinner time. Under the crystal chandelier, the long dining table was set with exquisite cutlery. Chloe sat beside my mom, her eyes red, looking utterly pitiful. I silently pulled out the chair furthest from them and sat down, trying my best to become part of the background. ” Eat more, you’re too thin,” Mrs. Sterling said, signaling the maid to serve me. I nodded, making a quiet “Mm” sound. Chloe speared a piece of fish with her fork, her voice soft and sweet: “Try this fish, is it good?” No! My internal alarm bells blared as I stared at that piece of fish. Seriously, mouth, you can say declarative sentences, exclamatory sentences, parallel sentences, but why, *why* do you have to choose a question?! I wanted to say “thank you,” but my mouth, against my will, spilled out: “Oh, that fish was thawed yesterday at 3 PM and then left at room temperature in the kitchen for over four hours before steaming. It’s not very fresh anymore. You eat it yourself.” The air instantly froze. Chloe’s fork stopped mid-air, her face cycling through shades of red and white. Mrs. Sterling clattered her fork down, her perfectly manicured face set in a frosty glare: “**(Y/N)** Sterling! Are you deliberately trying to upset the entire family?!” I wanted to cover my mouth, but couldn’t stop myself from saying: “She’s a fake daughter, she’s been constantly trying to undermine me, can’t you see that?” I was toast. I knew I was in deep trouble. Ever since I’d come back, the Sterling family had avoided talking about Chloe’s future. Her living expenses and luxuries remained untouched; they clearly intended to keep her. Mr. Sterling shot me a furious glare: “Eat your dinner!” I finished that meal under Chloe’s barely-there sniffles and the icy stares of my parents. I ate super fast, then immediately stood up: “I’m done. Enjoy your meal.” And then I got out of there. Behind me, I heard Mrs. Sterling comforting Chloe: “Don’t mind her, sweetie. She grew up in the countryside, no manners…”

The next day, I was dumped into the city’s most exclusive private school, in the same class as Chloe. I didn’t even need to think; this was definitely Chloe’s idea. They claimed it was for me to get the best education, but in reality, she wanted me to feel inferior and timid in comparison to her. I walked into the classroom, wearing a brand new, but utterly uncomfortable, designer uniform, led by the homeroom teacher. Whispers filled the room, and eyes of all sorts—curious, scrutinizing, mostly disdainful—fell upon me. Chloe sat in the front row, flashing me a perfect, gentle smile. I silently walked to the empty seat in the back row and sat down, continuing my “shut up” policy. If I could use a gesture, I wouldn’t speak. If a nod or shake of the head sufficed, I wouldn’t utter a single word. Until math class. The teacher, Ms. Albright, probably got a special directive from the Sterling family to give me extra “attention.” “*can you tell us how to solve this problem?” It was an insanely difficult Olympiad-level math problem. Forget about me, a small-town girl who’d never touched such problems; even the class geniuses rarely got it right. I stared at the blackboard, my mind completely blank. Just as I was about to honestly say, “I don’t know,” my mouth opened like a floodgate, fluently rattling off the solution steps and the final answer. It even added a commentary: “Actually, using the Cauchy-Schwarz inequality would be more concise, or constructing an auxiliary function and taking its derivative also works.” I spoke for over ten minutes before stopping. The classroom was utterly silent. Ms. Albright pushed up her thick glasses, looked at the blackboard, then at me, her eyes filled with shock and disbelief. “Th-that’s… absolutely correct! And the logic is incredibly clear, the solution is very advanced! have you… encountered problems like this before?” I stood frozen, a stampede of thoughts in my mind: *Teacher, would you believe me if I said I was just possessed by an alien?* I really wanted to know how my mouth knew the Cauchy-Schwarz inequality! “…No.” I answered dryly, which, for once, was the truth. My classmates’ eyes instantly changed, from dismissive to astonished. Only Chloe, looking back at me, had a smile that was a little strained. The bell rang for break, and I was the first one out of the classroom, bolting into the restroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realized this cursed mouth not only spoke the truth, but it also spoke *facts*, whether I personally knew them or not. Didn’t that make me a passive human search engine? And one with 100% accuracy, at that? This discovery, amidst my horror, secretly sparked a thrill. Maybe this bug-like ability wasn’t entirely a bad thing?

Chloe clearly wasn’t going to let me live in peace. After school, as soon as I walked out the gate, she and her little clique stopped me. Many students around us slowed down, ready for some drama. Chloe put on a worried expression today: “I know you just came back and want to show off. But… what you did in math class today, it really put the teacher in an awkward position. That problem was so difficult, you must have… seen the answer somewhere beforehand, right?” Her voice wasn’t too loud or too soft, just enough for everyone around to hear clearly. Immediately, suspicious and mocking glances fell on me. I sneered internally, *trying to spread rumors out of thin air?* My mouth automatically started, speaking as fast as a machine gun: “The one who’s in an awkward position is you, Chloe, isn’t it? That handwritten physics formula cheat sheet in your desk, do you need me to find it and read it out loud right now?” Chloe’s face instantly changed, and she unconsciously glanced toward the classroom. I didn’t stop, turning to her head follower, a fashionably dressed girl named Brittany. “And you, Brittany, stop stirring up trouble here. Your basketball player boyfriend was messaging and flirting with three girls at 10:30 last night. The chat history is *very* exciting. Do you need me to remind you of the specific contents? Like how he called one of them ‘sweetie pie’?” Brittany’s face turned instantly white, and she shrieked: “You’re lying!” I then pointed to another chubby boy named Dylan: “Dylan, don’t you dare smirk. That precious notebook in your drawer, signed by Chloe, she threw it in the trash because she didn’t want it, and you picked it up. Not only does she know, she also thinks you’re pretty gross.” The scene fell into a deathly silence, then erupted into an even bigger commotion. The few people I’d named were utterly pale, and the surrounding students’ gazes instantly shifted from me to them, filled with shock. Chloe was shaking with rage, pointing at me: “You… you’re making things up!” I blinked innocently: “Whether I’m making things up, you all know best yourselves, don’t you? Sorry, I have things to do, so I’m leaving.” Before they could recover from the shock of the truth, I quickly squeezed through the crowd. Though I didn’t let them get the better of me, I also clearly realized that if I kept speaking without regard for the situation, something major was bound to happen sooner or later.

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I decided I’d die in three days. Because my dad wanted to sell me to a 60-year-old man for $500. When I refused, he stripped me down and chained me up right by the door. My mom begged for me, and he smashed a stool over her head, blood gushing everywhere. As long as I could remember, Dad had treated us this way. Once I made up my mind to end it all, I actually felt a sense of relief. But then, the diary in my hands suddenly rustled, and a line of text appeared: [Escape! Take Mom with you!] I rubbed my eyes in disbelief—a line of text really had just appeared! I grabbed a pen, my hand trembling as I wrote a question below it. “Who are you? Can you help me escape?” I stared intently at the diary, until the sun went down, but no more movement appeared on the page. That night, my dad went out drinking again. Only then did my mom dare to bring me a bowl of rice. “Mia, eat quickly. Your dad will be back soon.” Then, she started to hammer away at the chains on my ankles, one strike at a time. “Your dad has the key. I don’t know if this hammer will break it, but if it does, Mia, you run.” I didn’t immediately take the bowl. Instead, my nose stung with unshed tears as I looked at the new and old bruises layered on my mom’s skin. “Mom, come with me. Let’s run away.” At my words, Mom instinctively trembled. “This is my home. Where else would I go?” I squeezed her hand tightly, my voice almost breaking. “Mom! This isn’t your home! It’s hell! Today he’s selling me, tomorrow it’ll be you!” Mom just shook her head, letting out that familiar, helpless sigh. As long as I could remember, my dad, Roger, often came home reeking of alcohol. If there was no food on the table, he’d start cursing. “You worthless hag, slacking off again! I work my ass off every day, and I come home to no hot meal!” Before his words even finished, I heard the sharp sound of a slap. My mom’s frail body was pinned against the bed by my bulky, strong dad. One of her slippers lay discarded by the bed. I shakily picked up that slipper and threw it at my dad’s back. He finally let go of my mom’s throat, turned around, and swung his arm, sending me flying into the cabinet. Seeing me get hit, Mom finally seemed to realize she could fight back. She struggled to her feet, trying to pull me into a hug, but Dad kicked her, sending her sprawling back to the floor. “You worthless hag, and you gave me a dead weight of a child. Ugh! You make me look like a loser wherever I go!” Then he grabbed my mom’s hair, smashing her head against the cabinet again and again. The cabinet boomed with each impact. I tried to crawl over and protect Mom, but Dad’s flying kick sent me flying far away again. I watched the thick, bright red blood gush from Mom’s forehead, wetting her hair, which clumped and matted on her face. I don’t know how long it lasted, but Dad eventually seemed to get tired. He spat on my blood-soaked mom. “Now get your ass in there and cook me some food!” Mom clutched the cabinet door, her blood-matted hair sticking to her face, and stumbled into the kitchen. Dad gobbled down the bowl of noodles in a few bites, slammed the bowl onto the table, and crawled into bed. Mom, still with her blood-matted hair, had to wash the bowl Dad had eaten from. She even had to wipe her own blood off the cabinet door with a wet cloth. That night, snores and muffled sobs intertwined in our small home. The next morning, Dad’s drunken stench had faded. Along with it, his violence towards us disappeared too. He acted as if nothing had happened, gently stroking my mom’s freshly scabbed wounds. He hugged her and said, “Sarah, did I get too drunk last night and hurt you again? It’s all my fault, I lose control when I drink. Does this… not affect your work, right?” Just a few words like that, and Mom took it as care, as love. So all the pain and blood, they just vanished with those two sentences. And so, every time Mom was beaten, she would go to that local factory, covered in bruises, to make socks. Days dragged on like this, until I was chained to the door, waiting to be sold. Just then, the diary displayed another line of text. [I’m here to help you! This time, we must succeed!]

I stared at the newly appeared words on the diary, my fingertips burned. I hastily shoved the diary into my embrace, pressing it tight. “Mia, eat quickly, then go.” Mom’s voice was timid and husky, her hand still trembling slightly. As she fed me, the bruise on her wrist brushed my cheek, cold and painful. “Mom can’t leave. Your dad’s ruined his stomach with all his drinking; if I leave, he won’t even have a hot meal. And your brother…” I pushed the bowl away, grabbing her hand, and lowered my voice: “Mom! How long are you going to be this foolish? He doesn’t love you, and he certainly doesn’t love me!” “He sold me to buy that so-called brother of mine a gaming console! And to buy himself more booze!” The spoon in Mom’s hand clattered into the bowl, soup splashed out, and she nervously tried to wipe it, her eyes darting away. She knew, all along, that Dad had cheated on her and Leo wasn’t his son. She’d merely built a fragile illusion of safety with her endless patience, naively believing that submission could buy her a semblance of peace. I looked pleadingly into my mom’s eyes, even beginning to beg. “Mom, please, let’s go. Just for me, okay?” In that moment, for the first time, I saw a crack in her muddy, tear-filled eyes, a glimmer of hesitation. Mom looked at my tear-streaked face, then touched the fresh wounds on her own. Her eyes slowly changed. She hesitated for a long time. Finally, she said nothing, but she picked up the hammer again, hammering even more desperately at the chain on my ankle. The sparks flying from the hammer and chain were like hope igniting in my heart. But the next second, my hope shattered. My dad came back. He rushed over, cursing, and with a swift kick, sent Mom sprawling to the ground. “What the hell are you doing with that hammer? Trying to free this worthless burden? Ruin my payday?!” Mom swayed under the impact, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth, yet she instinctively shuffled half a step towards me, her voice trembling beyond recognition. “Mia is still young, Mr. Jenkins is old enough to be her grandfather. Please, spare her just this once…” “Spare? Who’ll spare me?” “I’ve fed and clothed her for years, how much money has that cost me? $500 is cheap for her! Anyone who tries to stop me today, I’ll break their legs!” Soon, many neighbors, all from our village, gathered at the doorway. They whispered and pointed, but no one stepped forward. Aunt Carol sighed, turning her face away; Uncle Frank squatted on the ground, smoking, shaking his head in silence. No one asked if I was willing, no one cared about the wounds on my mom’s body. Mom’s reddened eyes slowly dimmed. That glimmer of hesitation, extinguished as if by cold water. She hung her head, her shoulders trembling slightly, and then suddenly, she knelt. “I was wrong, I won’t stop you. Please, don’t hit me anymore.” She wiped the blood and tears from her face, her voice as meek as dust. “Mia… Mia will do as you say. She’ll go live with Mr. Jenkins.” My heart plummeted straight into an icy abyss with her words. The hope the diary brought, and Mom’s retreat at this moment, felt like two knives tearing at me. Just then, an angry voice echoed from outside the courtyard gate. “What the hell are you talking about!”

Grandma Eleanor arrived. The moment she saw me chained up, her tears instantly fell. Eleanor quickly walked to my side, reaching out to unlock the chain, but my dad, Roger, who had just come out, blocked her. “What are you doing here?” Eleanor glared at my dad, trembling with rage. “Roger! This child is your own daughter, how can you chain her up like a dog and try to sell her? Are you even human?!” Dad impatiently shook Eleanor off. “My selling my daughter, what does that have to do with you? This is my family business, mind your own!” Eleanor’s face turned red with anger. She pointed a finger at Dad’s nose, cursing him. “Mind my business? You’re hitting my own daughter! You’re selling my own granddaughter! You’re not fit to be a husband, not fit to be a father! How could Sarah have been so blind as to marry a piece of trash like you!” Dad grew impatient with the scolding. “My son needs food, I need my drinks. If I don’t sell this dead weight, where will the money come from?” Then he squinted and stretched out his hand towards Eleanor. “Or why don’t you give me your pension money for my drinks first?” Eleanor’s face flushed crimson, clutching her chest, she stumbled backward. Dad grew even more brazen: “If you’re so reluctant to part with this worthless burden, then you can go to Mr. Jenkins’ house with her, you two are about the same age anyway!” Eleanor’s face turned purple, clutching her chest, she collapsed to the ground. She stared wide-eyed at the gray sky, her lips trembled a few times, as if wanting to say something, but in the end, not a single word came out. “Eleanor!” I cried out in alarm, trying to crawl over and help her, but the chains held me tight, unable to move. Eleanor lay on the ground, her face turning ashen. She stretched out her hand, but before she could speak, her eyes slowly closed. Mom’s legs gave out, and she collapsed beside Eleanor, crying hysterically. “Mom! Mom! Don’t scare me! Wake up!” Dad also froze, mostly sobered up, but his face showed no hint of regret or panic, only intense irritation and disgust. He frowned, spitting on the ground. “Ugh! Fing bad luck! Couldn’t she at least die somewhere else? Dirtying up my yard!” At his words, Mom’s body stiffened. She slowly raised her head, looking at Dad, her eyes filled with disbelief, and a cold, desperate look I’d never seen before. Her tears still fell, but she no longer cried out loud, just stared fixedly at Dad, as if looking at a stranger. Dad looked uncomfortable under her gaze, and kicked her. “What are you standing there for? Get this old hag out of here! Dump her in the wilderness behind the mountain! Don’t let her be an eyesore!” After saying that, he turned and went into the bedroom. She stopped crying. Her gaze swept over Eleanor, then returned to the chains on me. Her eyes suddenly cleared. “Come on, let’s run away together.” I was overjoyed, hastily pulling out the diary to ask. “What’s the next step?” Just then, the diary began to rustle again. [Wait!]

I was getting impatient, snarling at the diary. “Who are you?! You said you’d help me! Now there’s no help, and you say wait! Wait for what?! If I wait any longer, Mr. Jenkins will come pick me up!” The diary was silent for a moment, then words began to appear again. [Eleanor’s death was unexpected even for me, but trying to escape now will definitely get us caught.] [Only when Mr. Jenkins comes to pick you up, escaping Roger, will you have a chance.] I instantly calmed down. I composed myself, carefully writing, letter by letter, in the diary. “Who are you, really?” The diary didn’t respond again. I could only keep it close to me, waiting for this last chance. For the next two days, time felt like an eternity. Mom was busy with Eleanor’s funeral, her face devoid of tears, replaced by a withered, dead silence. Dad, meanwhile, was worse than ever, as if selling me was something to celebrate. He drank even more heavily, pacing drunkenly in front of me, muttering obscenities. “You better behave yourself at the Jenkins’! If they send you back, I’ll break your legs!” I lowered my head, my hand tightly clutching the diary inside my sleeve. [Wait], that single word became my only anchor. Finally, the third day arrived. A beat-up motorcycle sputtered to a stop outside our house. Mr. Jenkins grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellowed, rotting teeth. His cloudy eyes fixed on me, slimy and lingering, like insects crawling on my skin, making my entire body tremble with disgust. “So, I’m taking her now, am I?” Dad instantly switched to a sycophantic grin, hastily offering a cigarette. “Take her, take her! Mr. Jenkins, from now on, this girl is yours to manage. Beat her, scold her, whatever makes you happy!” Mr. Jenkins didn’t take the cigarette. He walked straight to me, raising his hand to pinch my cheek. I sharply turned my head away, my stomach churning. “Tsk, quite a fiery spirit. Just my type!” The chains finally came off. I was roughly pulled up by Mr. Jenkins, shoved towards the motorcycle. Just as I was about to be pushed into the sidecar, I sharply turned my head. She stood at the threshold, her hair messy, the bruises on her face not yet faded. The moment our eyes met, tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back, quickly blinking at me. And discreetly, she slipped a small, polished knife into my pocket, its handle still warm from her palm. I clutched the knife, my knuckles turning white from clenching, and nodded gently. The motorcycle sputtered to life, kicking up a cloud of dust. I stared fixedly in the direction of our house, until that dilapidated door and the solitary figure in front of it completely vanished around the bend. A celebratory meal was already spread out at Mr. Jenkins’ house. The diary began to rustle again. [Get him drunk.] I gritted my teeth, stood up, and slowly walked to the table. “I’ll pour you a drink.” He froze for a moment, then burst out laughing, tilting his head back to down an entire glass of liquor. I kept pouring, and imitating the village women, I urged him, “Drink more, it’ll warm you up.” My encouragement made him drink even more heavily. Before long, his face was flushed crimson, his eyes glazed over. He slumped onto the table, grumbling, and soon began to snore. I held my breath, waiting for a long while, confirming he was truly dead drunk. Only then did I reach for the keyring on his belt, snatching it and bolting out the door. Outside, the sky had already darkened. The wind stung my face, but it felt sweet. I ran like crazy, not stopping even when one shoe came off, an involuntary smile curling on my lips. “Mom. We can finally escape. We’re going to live for ourselves!” The lights were on at home. I gasped for breath, tiptoeing as I pushed open the door. The moment I stepped into the bedroom, my whole body froze.

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The day my parents divorced, two agreements lay on the table. One meant staying in the old neighborhood with my dad, who was drowning in gambling debts. The other meant moving to the coast with my mom, who’d remarried a wealthy man. In my last life, my little sister, Chloe, cried and begged for Mom. I quietly packed my bags and followed Dad. Later, Dad quit gambling and became a millionaire, spoiling me rotten. Chloe, however, was emotionally abused and trapped at home by her stepfather. She eventually succumbed to depression and passed away. This time around, Chloe snatched the cigarette from Dad’s hand and hugged him tight, refusing to let go. “Jade, I feel for Dad. You go to Mom’s, okay? I’ll keep the good life here for you.” Dad paused, then affectionately stroked Chloe’s head, a look of relief on his face. I said nothing, picking up the train ticket for the coast. Chloe didn’t know that in my last life, Dad only quit gambling because I, riddled with a brain tumor, worked myself to death to pay off his debts, coughing up blood. My life was the price for his temporary peace. Now, reborn, with no debt collectors banging on the door, all I wanted was a good night’s sleep.

I picked up my duffel bag. “Get out, get out! Go find your mom, the one who only cares about money.” Dad waved his hand, like shooing away a fly. Chloe hid behind him, making a childish face at me. Her lips exaggeratedly formed the words: “Sis, don’t come begging me for money later.” I just smiled, saying nothing. Then I turned and walked into the rain. I pulled my neck into my shoulders, feeling a chill seep deep into my bones. Honestly, it didn’t matter where I went. I just wanted to find a quiet place to endure these last few moments. No more hearing the gamblers’ creditors banging down the door. No more smelling that sickening stench of cheap cigarettes. Mom’s black Mercedes pulled up at the end of the alley. The window rolled down, revealing her perfectly made-up face. She frowned, looking at me, drenched from head to toe, a flicker of disgust in her eyes. “What happened to you? Get in, quickly, don’t get the car dirty.” I opened the back passenger door, about to slide in. “Put that bag in the trunk.” Mom pointed at the duffel bag in my hand. “It’s filthy, probably crawling with germs.” I paused. But I still obediently closed the door and put the bag in the trunk. Back in the car, I huddled in the corner, careful not to touch the luxurious leather seats. The heater was on full blast, but I still felt cold. “Jade, once we get there, you need to be sensible.” Mom drove, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Your stepfather doesn’t like noise. Don’t leave your room unless you have to.” “Eat quietly, and don’t drag your feet when you walk.” “And never mention your dad. He’s bad news.” I looked out at the rain streaking past the window and nodded. “Got it.” The familiar spike of pain lanced through my head again. My vision blurred for a second. I reached up and pressed my forehead. “What’s wrong?” Mom asked, her tone laced with impatience. “Nothing, just car sickness.” I said. “So delicate,” Mom scoffed. “Just like your dad.” I closed my eyes, swallowing back the metallic taste of blood that welled up in my throat. Next time, no way I’m signing up for this again. The drive took five hours. By the time the car pulled into the hillside villa community, it was pitch black outside. Though ablaze with lights, the whole place felt eerily dead. “We’re here.” Mom parked the car, touched up her lipstick, and took a deep breath. She was shifting gears, transforming from the sharp-tongued woman she was with me into a sweet, devoted wife. “Get out of the car. Remember to call him Mr. Henderson.” I followed her inside, still carrying my duffel bag. A man sat on the living room sofa, a blanket over his legs, a book in his hand. He looked up when he heard us. This was my stepfather, Robert Henderson. 2 The same man who, in my last life, slowly suffocated Chloe until she broke. “You’re back?” His voice was flat, emotionless. “Robert, this is Jade.” Mom pushed me forward, a plastered smile on her face. “Jade, say hello to Mr. Henderson.” I stepped forward and bowed slightly. “Hello, Mr. Henderson.” Robert Henderson turned a page of his book, as if he hadn’t heard me. A few seconds later, he hummed a noncommittal “Hmm” from the back of his throat. His gaze swept over my wet shoes, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. “The carpet was just replaced.” He lowered his head back to his book. “The first room on the left upstairs is the guest room. It’s ready.” “Thank you, Mr. Henderson,” I said. Mom breathed a sigh of relief and pulled me upstairs. “See? Mr. Henderson is really a good man,” Mom whispered. “Just don’t upset him, and you’ll be able to stay in this house.” Inside the room, it was huge and empty. “Mom,” I called out, stopping her just as she was about to leave. “What is it?” “I’d like to change rooms.” Mom’s face instantly changed. “Jade, are you being picky the moment you arrive?” “What’s wrong with this room? It’s a hundred times better than your dad’s dump, isn’t it?” “Don’t be so ungrateful!” I calmly watched her outburst. Only after she finished did I speak. “No, this room faces north, it’s too cold.” “I’d like a south-facing one, even if it’s smaller.” I was truly cold. The brain tumor messed with my body’s temperature control, leaving me perpetually freezing. Only sunlight offered me any comfort. “Cold? Just turn on the AC!” Mom thought I was being unreasonable. “The south-facing rooms are your Mr. Henderson’s study and a storage room.” “Then the storage room,” I said. Mom’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy?” “Why would you stay in a storage room when there’s a perfectly good guest room?” “Are you deliberately trying to make Mr. Henderson think I’m abusing you?” Her voice grew shrill. I covered my ears. It was too loud. My brain felt like it was going to burst. “I’m just cold,” I repeated. Just then, two light taps came from the doorway. Robert Henderson stood there, a glass of water in his hand, his expression grim. I didn’t even notice him arrive. “What’s all the shouting about?” Mom immediately plastered on a different face, her voice trembling. “Nothing, Robert. This child is being difficult, complaining about the room.” “I’m about to teach her a lesson.” Robert Henderson looked at me, and I looked back at him. His face was very pale, his lips bloodless, looking as if he were about to die. “Which room do you want?” he asked me. “The one facing south,” I pointed to the end of the hallway. “That’s where we store old furniture.” “It’s fine, as long as there’s sunlight.” Robert Henderson was silent for a moment. “Suit yourself.” “Just don’t shout in the hallway.” With that, he turned and left, showing no interest in this mother-daughter dispute. Mom poked my forehead hard. “Go ahead and make a scene!” “Staying in a storage room… what will people say about me?” I ignored her. Carrying my duffel bag, I walked to the end of the hallway. Pushing open the door, a cloud of dust greeted me. But I saw the floor-to-ceiling window. When the sun rose tomorrow, it would be warm in here. That was enough. I made my bed and placed the photo album under my pillow. My diagnosis was tucked inside the album. As long as I wasn’t dead, no one would be idle enough to snoop through my things. That night, I slept soundly. There were no debt collectors in my dreams, only endless darkness. 3 I settled into the house, like an invisible ghost. Robert Henderson liked quiet, so much so that even the housekeepers walked on tiptoes. Mom tried every trick in the book to please Robert. Cooking soups, giving massages, watching those boring financial news channels with him. She lived in this house like a high-class housekeeper. As for me, except for meal times, I rarely left my room. The storage room had been tidied up nicely. Though cluttered with old furniture, the sunlight was truly wonderful. I often pulled up a chair by the window and soaked in the sun all afternoon, like an old woman. Sometimes Robert Henderson would pass my door. Seeing me sunbathing, he’d pause, but never spoke. His gaze was strange, like he was looking at a kindred spirit. One afternoon during lunch. The dining table was silent, save for the faint clinking of forks against plates. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. In the quiet living room, it sounded like an alarming siren. Robert Henderson frowned. Mom immediately put down her fork and glared at me. “Who told you to bring your phone to the table? No manners!” “Hang up!” I took out my phone and glanced at the screen. It was Chloe. I pressed decline. Less than two seconds later, it vibrated again. I declined again. The third time it vibrated, Robert Henderson put down his fork. “Answer it,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s giving me a headache.” I took my phone to the balcony. As soon as I answered, Chloe’s voice exploded through the receiver. “Jade, are you doing this on purpose?” “Did you take the passbook?” I held the phone away from my ear. “What passbook?” “Dad says the family passbook is gone, and he’s sure you stole it!” “There’s five thousand dollars in there!” I chuckled. Those five thousand dollars were what I’d earned washing dishes last summer. “That’s my money,” I said. “Even if you earned it, it’s still family money!” Chloe said, her voice dripping with self-righteousness. “Dad can’t buy cigarettes now, and he’s throwing a fit at home!” “Transfer the money right away, or I’ll tell Mom you stole it!” From the other end of the line, I heard things crashing and Dad’s angry curses. “I should’ve strangled you when you were born!” Those sounds, even from hundreds of miles away, still made me feel suffocated. “I didn’t steal it,” I said calmly. “That was my medical fund.” “Medical fund? What kind of sickness do you have?” Chloe scoffed. “Stop playing the victim!” “Transfer the money now, or I’ll come to your school and tell everyone you don’t care if your own dad dies!” I looked out at the garden from the balcony. The flowers bloomed vividly, red as blood. “Chloe.” “You chose your path; you have to walk it, even if you’re crawling.” “Don’t bother me.” With that, I hung up and blocked her number. As I turned, I felt a warm gush from my nose. I reached up and touched it – my hand was covered in blood. I fumbled for a tissue from my pocket and pressed it to my nose. Tilting my head back, I tried to stop the bleeding. The blood flowed rapidly, trickling down my throat into my stomach, making me nauseous. I rushed into the downstairs restroom. Looking in the mirror, I saw bright red blood staining half my face. I turned on the faucet and frantically washed it away. “What are you doing?” A voice suddenly came from behind me. I froze. Through the mirror, I saw Robert Henderson standing in the doorway. He looked at my face, streaked with water and blood, his eyes deep and unreadable. I roughly wiped my face. “Just a nosebleed,” I mumbled, lowering my head. “Probably from the heat.” Robert Henderson didn’t say anything. He walked over and handed me a clean hand towel. “Wipe that off.” I took the towel and pressed it to my nose. “Thank you, Mr. Henderson.” He looked at the faint pink stains in the sink that hadn’t been rinsed away yet. “Does this happen often?” “Occasionally.” I lied. The nosebleeds had been happening more and more frequently lately. Robert Henderson stared at me for a moment. “You should see a doctor,” he said. “No need. It’s an old problem,” I replied, lowering my head, trying to slip past him. “Jade.” He stopped me. “You don’t have to live so cautiously in this house.” “Your mom is your mom; you are you.” I froze, looking up at him. His expression was still detached, but there was a hint of something in his eyes I didn’t understand. “If you’re not feeling well, say something.” “Stop trying to be tough. Nobody’s giving you a prize for enduring all this pain alone.” With that, he turned and left, leaving me alone in the restroom. The towel in my hand carried a faint scent of pine. It was his scent, mixed with a faint whisper of decay.

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She gave her secret crush a luxury surprise and handed me a five-dollar bouquet. That was the moment everything snapped. While she lit candles and chilled champagne for Damian Ashby, I stood in our apartment holding the cheapest flowers in the city, flowers she didn’t even bother to remove the price tag from. Eight years together. And I finally understood where I ranked. So I packed my bags and walked out of the home we built— not because I was heartbroken, but because I refused to be the leftover in her love story. This time, I’m done staying quiet. The day we won the National E-Sports Championship, my girlfriend of eight years said she wanted to personally present me with flowers on stage. Standing on the podium, I eagerly pulled out the ring I had hidden, ready to give her a grand proposal. But then, with a bright smile, she handed the bouquet to her “best friend,” Damian Ashby, right in front of everyone. Under the spotlight, they became the center of everyone’s attention. On the scene and all over Twitter, people showered them with blessings. Damian’s fans even tagged me in posts: “We told you to stop clinging to our couple. Feeling humiliated now?” I calmly posted a reply: “Respect. Best wishes to you both.” Under the dazzling spotlights, I stood on the podium alongside my teammates. Evelyn Larkson, my girlfriend, walked slowly toward me with a bouquet of roses in her hands. She had once said that when I finally won the national championship, she would reveal our relationship during the award ceremony. Tonight, she seemed to have come just for me, holding roses that symbolized love. It was the first time she had ever given me flowers, and her expression was so affectionate. Blushing, I suppressed my excitement, watching her approach with my full attention. In my mind, I planned it all out. The moment she handed me the flowers, I would drop to one knee, take out the ring, and propose to her live in front of the nation. Even though we had argued yesterday over some trivial matters. But hey, what couple doesn’t bicker sometimes? My hand nervously rubbed the ring box in my pocket. “Congratulations on your championship!” Evelyn extended the flowers toward me. Just as I was about to take them with a delighted smile, the bouquet bypassed my hands and landed firmly in the arms of my teammate, Damian Ashby. Damian, Evelyn’s “best friend,” had known her longer than I had. The smile on my face froze instantly. Looking at my girlfriend, who gazed at Damian with affection, I stood dumbfounded before laughing bitterly at myself. It was Damian. Again. I should’ve seen it coming. To Evelyn, her “best friend” was always more important than her boyfriend. Even our argument yesterday was about Damian. But I never thought she’d openly hand over a bouquet of roses—symbols of love—to him in front of everyone. Damian, with his good looks, had a much larger fanbase in the gaming circuit than the rest of us. Did Evelyn not realize what her actions meant, giving him flowers in front of all these people? I quietly slipped the ring back into my pocket as the crowd’s screams reached a fever pitch. The roar was so loud it felt like it could lift the roof off the arena. Amid the camera flashes, everything around me seemed to dim. Before the award ceremony even ended, their sweet moment was already trending on Twitter. Their chemistry as a “shipped pair” sparked countless fans to root for them. Damian’s fans flooded the video comments, tagging Evelyn and calling her “sister-in-law.” The scene was lively and full of joy. But none of that had anything to do with me. I forced a bitter smile, stepped off the stage, and returned to the locker room alone. Looking at the flood of blessings on Twitter, I suddenly felt exhausted. Maybe this was the perfect moment to end things. So I sent Evelyn a text: “Let’s break up. I won’t get in your way anymore.” The text had barely been sent when Evelyn called. I wasn’t planning to answer. I hung up and grabbed a ride back to my apartment to pack my things. The apartment was one we had shared. Since we’d broken up, there was no way I could keep living under the same roof as her. She could have the place. While I packed, Evelyn bombarded me with messages: “What do you mean, break up?” “Are you throwing a tantrum again? Man up!” “Alright, everyone’s saying we should celebrate. Come on, Damian and the others are waiting for you!” Every word revolved around Damian. She handed roses to another man and turned around to call me petty. I looked at my phone and laughed coldly. Then I turned it off, zipped up my suitcase, and left. With no time to find another place, I returned to the dorms at Apex Gaming Base, where the club had prepared rooms for the players. The base was quiet since everyone else was out celebrating. I instinctively powered on my computer and logged into the game for practice. Only in the game could I find some peace.

It was late at night when Evelyn called again. I was still practicing. I glanced at the phone on the desk, hit the mute button, and ignored it. Then came a barrage of texts: “Why aren’t you home yet?” “Where have you been?” “The flowers I picked for you are wilting. Where are you? Didn’t you say you liked flowers from me?” Do I need flowers given out of guilt? I turned off the screen, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. She was always like this—giving a slap followed by a sweet treat. I used to love her so much that I didn’t see a problem with it. I even convinced myself it meant she cared about me. But now, I’ve woken up. I see through her. It was time to leave. No one is irreplaceable. Neither her nor me. … That night, I stayed up training and then slept through the next afternoon. When I finally made it to the computer room, Evelyn was sitting in my chair, lost in thought. I wasn’t surprised she’d found me. Where else could I go besides the dorm? Hearing my footsteps, she turned and saw me. “Where were you last night? I called and messaged you! I thought something happened to you!” Clearing my throat, I replied flatly, “I slept early.” She looked stunned and frowned in confusion. “What’s with you today? You’re acting all weird.” True. The old me would’ve been thrilled to see her showing up here, eager to unload all my recent frustrations onto her. Now, there was only silence. Naturally, she found it strange. She also seemed to forget I had already broken up with her yesterday—or how she had humiliated me in public. Before I could say anything, she spoke again. “Today’s Damian’s three-year anniversary with the team. He’s hosting a dinner. Let’s go together.” I wanted to make up an excuse to decline. But as teammates, my absence might create unnecessary trouble. Besides, I needed to tell everyone we had broken up. I nodded indifferently, got dressed, and followed her to the hotel. When we arrived, I realized the event wasn’t just for Damian’s friends. It was practically a fan meetup. Before I even entered, the commotion from the Bellwood Grand Hall was deafening. I glanced toward Evelyn, but she had disappeared into the crowd. “Looking for Evelyn? I’ll take you to her,” came Scarlett Monroe’s voice, appearing out of nowhere. She led me upstairs to a private suite, where I could see the stage below. Evelyn appeared, pushing a giant cake while holding a string of pink and white balloons. It was Damian’s surprise gift. The fans screamed wildly, chanting for them to “get married now” and calling Evelyn “sister-in-law.” Scarlett raised her eyebrows at me and gestured toward the stage. “Don’t you think they look perfect together?” I swallowed hard, bitterness rising in my throat. They did. They really did.

Evelyn had never put this much effort into anything for me. Even on my birthday, when I asked for a cake, she’d only complain impatiently, saying, “We’re adults—why bother with pointless formalities?” Yet here she was, going out of her way to prepare such a grand surprise for Damian in front of everyone. Turns out, people only put in effort for the ones they truly care about. Scarlett Monroe observed my reaction, clearly satisfied by how much it stung. She smirked, a sly, knowing smile that twisted like a thorn in my heart. After the event, Evelyn and Damian returned to the private suite together. Scarlett immediately hooked her arm around Evelyn’s and teased, “Evelyn, pulling off such a big surprise for Damian—aren’t you afraid your boyfriend will get jealous?” Evelyn froze, then glanced at me. A flicker of guilt crossed her eyes. “Next time, for your birthday or our anniversary, I’ll plan something just as big for you,” she said hesitantly. I shook my head lightly. “Don’t bother.” If it’s the same thing you’ve already done for someone else, how could it even count as a surprise? I wasn’t about to accept someone else’s leftovers. Evelyn pressed her lips together, as if she wanted to say more. Before she could, Damian chimed in. “Logan, you’re not seriously upset, are you? Evelyn was just going along with the publicity plan. Don’t be so petty.” “As her boyfriend, you should be more understanding. Don’t make her guess what’s on your mind all the time. That’s exhausting for her.” Classic Damian, always stepping up to defend Evelyn. I let out a soft laugh. “With you looking out for her, why would she ever need anyone else?” The words carried a sharp edge, freezing the room in an instant. Damian sighed dramatically, offering a resigned smile. “Alright, fine. If it makes you feel better, I’ll apologize. Don’t be mad at Evelyn.” The air hung heavy with awkwardness until someone broke in to lighten the mood. “Come on, we’re all teammates—no need for these formalities. Let’s drink!” Scarlett, grinning mischievously, stepped into the center. “Today’s not the only story. Evelyn gave Damian flowers yesterday too!” She giggled and glanced at me, looking for confirmation. Evelyn seemed to think Scarlett had pinpointed the issue. She turned to me. “You’re upset over something that trivial?” Casually, she added, “I bought you flowers yesterday too, but you left early, so I couldn’t give them to you. I still have them, though.” She walked to a corner of the suite, pulling out a small, wilted bouquet of lisianthus from a box filled with beer bottles. The second she produced it, someone stifled a laugh. It was painfully clear why—the lisianthus bouquet looked embarrassingly cheap next to the extravagant roses she’d given Damian. Damian had even brought the roses along, making the comparison all the more glaring. I could feel the mocking stares around me, silently ridiculing the idea that I could ever compare to Damian. Damian raised his eyebrows smugly, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. Feigning disapproval, he glanced at the lisianthus and said, “Evelyn, you should’ve given Logan roses. Why this?” The tone barely stopped short of outright saying she was tossing me scraps. Evelyn replied indifferently, “It was late after the dinner last night. There weren’t any roses left. This will do. Anyway, he doesn’t know flowers—he shouldn’t care.” The best for Damian, and whatever’s left for me. The difference between love and indifference couldn’t be clearer. Why did she assume I wouldn’t care? She held the flowers out to me, but I didn’t reach for them. Evelyn’s brows furrowed again. “Don’t you like flowers anymore? I picked these especially for you.” “No thanks,” I said flatly. “Give them to someone else.” “You’re being ridiculous again,” she shot back. “I’m not. I mean it. I have things to do, so I’ll leave you all to it.” I opened the suite door and walked out without looking back. I hadn’t taken more than a few steps before the whispers started behind me. “Logan’s being so dramatic.” “Damian and Evelyn’s video is blowing up online. It’s brought in tons of sponsors for the studio—why is he so hung up on this?” “Exactly.” Evelyn, finally losing her patience, tossed the flowers aside. “Forget him. Let him sulk.” Every harsh word cut into me like a blade. I paused mid-step, a wave of sadness washing over me. To her, I was utterly insignificant.

Back at the dorm, I made a cup of instant noodles and sat down at my setup to train. I played until my eyes stung, finally shutting down the computer. That’s when my phone buzzed with a notification. Damian had posted on Facebook: “You’re amazing. Making me hangover soup after I had too much to drink.” The attached photo showed Evelyn in the kitchen, wearing an apron and illuminated by warm lighting. It was a cozy, intimate scene. So, Evelyn was capable of cooking for someone. Just not for me. I laughed bitterly and commented: “Your girlfriend is so thoughtful. Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness.” Then I blocked both Damian and Evelyn. Minutes later, an unknown number called. Evelyn’s voice came through the line. “Logan, what was that comment supposed to mean?” “Do you have to make everyone miserable to feel satisfied? Apologize to Damian right now, or don’t bother trying to see me this week!” I chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. I won’t be bothering you again.” I hung up and didn’t answer when she called back. The days that followed were quiet. I immersed myself in training and started getting used to life without her. That was, until the team meeting. Evelyn appeared at the doorway, dressed in a white dress that contrasted sharply with her long black hair. She looked stunning, just like the first time we met—though even then, she’d come to the base looking for Damian. I let out a low laugh and walked past her into the meeting room without a word. She hesitated, then followed me inside. “Logan, how long do you plan to keep this up?” she asked, irritation creeping into her voice. “You’ve been avoiding me for days, and you blocked me. What do you want?” Damian and the other teammates glanced over, clearly intrigued. I met their stares briefly before answering, “Evelyn, we’ve broken up.” She stared at me in disbelief. “You’re serious? Just because fans are shipping me and Damian?” Her tone carried a note of blame. “When did you become so unreasonable, Logan?” “You know that’s just a joke. Damian and I are just friends. Can you stop misinterpreting things?” Damian’s expression shifted into something more complicated, tinged with jealousy. But I didn’t care anymore. I smiled faintly. “You’ll never understand the real problem.” “Then tell me! What’s the issue? Are you really going to let your pettiness ruin this?” Evelyn demanded, staring me down. I didn’t reply. As the team leader and others entered, I took a seat and waited for the meeting to begin. Evelyn looked like she wanted to argue further but held back, choosing to wait until after the meeting.

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My wife bought luxury cars and a penthouse for her lover— but refused to pay the ten thousand dollars that could have saved our daughter’s life. The night our little girl died, my wife sent only one text: “You’re overreacting. He and I are just traveling.” So I placed my wedding ring inside my daughter’s urn. From that day on, I was no longer her husband. As a CEO, my wife is incredibly wealthy, yet she’s always worried I’m after her inheritance. She keeps a tight rein on our finances, allowing my daughter and me just $200 a month for spending money. However, when her first love came back to the country, she didn’t hesitate to shower him with a luxury car and a mansion, worth millions, to welcome him. Later, when my daughter had a sudden heart attack, the only thing that could save her was a $10,000 surgery. Instead, I was accused of being ambitious and was thrown out of the company by security. I watched as my daughter passed away in the operating room, while my wife boarded a plane for a joyful world tour with her first love. After I finished arranging my daughter’s funeral, my wife returned from her trip, as indifferent as ever. She said: “Hey, didn’t you and our daughter always want to go to the amusement park? I’ll take you next week.” But she didn’t know that the moment our daughter died on that operating table, I was ready to end our marriage. I was packing up my daughter’s belongings when my wife, Evelyn, who had just returned from her world tour, casually walked back into our home. “Luke, can you massage my shoulders? The trip really wore me out.” Hearing this, I, who once cherished her dearly, remained silent and continued packing. Seeing I ignored her, Evelyn frowned, then suddenly laughed as if something amusing had crossed her mind. “Are you still jealous about Damian and I traveling together?” Damian was her childhood friend. Evelyn had left our daughter, who was gravely ill, to travel the world with this friend, letting our daughter die on a cold operating table. Thinking about my daughter’s eyes slowly losing their warmth felt like a dagger through my heart. Before I could speak, Damian walked in, feigning innocence: “Oh, Luke, it’s all my fault for dragging Evelyn on the trip.” “But don’t worry, it was just a trip, nothing more.” He spoke lightly, yet they wore matching outfits and rings, looking like a genuine couple in public. Meanwhile, the wedding ring Evelyn and I shared had long been discarded by her. Seeing I still wouldn’t speak, Evelyn sighed, looking helpless. “Alright, don’t be mad. I’ll send an extra $500 this month for Anna to get something nice.” “Just remember, I’m doing this for you. No need to thank me.” But looking at the transaction on my phone, I felt nothing but mockery. She spent millions on a world tour with Damian, buying luxury brands, where a single bag costs thousands. Yet now, giving me $500 felt as if she was doing me a huge favor. Damian stood by, trying to suppress his laughter, sarcastically saying: “Luke, $500 is quite a bit. You should thank Evelyn.” “Let me tell you, kids should be raised modestly, so they won’t be materialistic when they grow up!” As absurd as it was, Evelyn believed it. To prevent our daughter from being materialistic, she strictly controlled our expenses, giving only $200 monthly. I used to argue because I wanted a better life for our daughter, but now she’s gone. Arguing means nothing. With this thought, I returned the money and said calmly: “No need, I don’t want it.” Evelyn’s smile froze, then she helplessly said: “Luke, I already apologized. What more do you want?” Before I could speak, Damian’s mocking voice came from the side, “I think he just thinks $500 is too little, right?” “Luke, not to be harsh, but with your greedy attitude, how can you be a good example for Anna?” He lectured me condescendingly. Hearing this, Evelyn also looked at me with disappointment. “Luke, we’ve been married a few years, and you’re already this greedy?” “In a few more years, are you planning to take over the shares and inheritance from Evelyn’s family?” Listening to Evelyn’s accusation, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. After all this time, this is how she sees me. But my silence, to her, seemed like guilt. The next moment, Evelyn spoke with irritation: “Looks like Damian was right, you’re not a fit father.” “I’m doing this to teach our daughter resilience.” “If you keep this up, and Anna turns out materialistic and greedy like you, can we still call this a family?” Looking at her seriousness, I found it ironic. Her so-called resilience was scolding me for asking for a little extra for groceries, accusing me of eyeing her inheritance. Even when our daughter scored high and wanted a small cake, she’d point at her, scolding: “So materialistic at a young age, you’ll grow up to be a gold-digger!” “Your dad will spoil you rotten someday!” Thinking of this, I was about to tell her about our daughter. “Evelyn, our daughter is already…” But before I could finish, Damian suddenly cried out in pain at the door. The next moment, Evelyn didn’t even bother continuing to lecture me, she rushed to Damian’s side. “Damian, what happened?” Damian feigned nonchalance, waving it off: “Evelyn, I’m fine. Maybe the long flight triggered my old back pain.” “I’m okay, don’t let me delay your time with family.” Hearing this, Evelyn shook her head. “Your health comes first. I’ll take you to the hospital now.” Just before leaving, Evelyn seemed to remember something, turned to me, and sighed seriously. “Luke, let’s both calm down first.” “When I get back, we can discuss taking our daughter out next week.” But she didn’t know our daughter was gone, and I had no intention of waiting for her anymore. 2. After gathering my thoughts, I took my resignation letter and went straight to the company to resign. On the way, colleagues pointed and whispered. “Isn’t that Luke? How can he still show his face here?” “Yeah, asking CEO Evelyn for $10,000 last month and got thrown out by security.” “With his salary, how many years would he need to earn $10,000?” “Ignore this clown, let’s go…” Hearing these, I laughed at myself. For years, Evelyn never announced our relationship, even arranged for me to be just a regular employee to avoid suspicion. I’ve worked hard, even drank myself sick to secure big deals for the company. All I wanted was to become better, to make her acknowledge me and our daughter. But my promotion applications were repeatedly rejected by her. I sought her out for an explanation. She smiled, clinging to my arm, sweetly said: “Luke, this is all to train you, so you can be a better husband and father!” “Besides, I earn enough for us. Do you think I can’t support you and our daughter, or are you trying to climb into the company’s upper ranks to seize power?” I was left speechless, thinking she had her reasons. But on the day Damian returned, she sent dozens of luxury cars to the airport, the cannon salute was deafening. That night, Damian parachuted into the company, appointed as Vice President. I realized then, love or lack thereof, the difference was obvious. Given this, there’s no need to continue this ridiculous marriage. I submitted my resignation. Stepping out of the company, I expected to feel heavy-hearted, but I only felt relief. For years, like a bird with clipped wings, I’ve been trapped in a cage, oppressed. Now, I see freedom ahead. I visited my daughter’s grave, placed her favorite toys by her small tombstone. Stayed with her until nightfall, then dragged my tired body home. To my surprise, opening the door, Evelyn was unexpectedly home waiting. “Do you know what time it is? I thought you’d learned to stay out all night.” On the couch, Evelyn frowned, arms crossed, displeased. Her expression was a signal for me to comfort her. But I found it odd that while Damian’s minor injuries would keep her by his side, she wasn’t with him at the hospital today. Not my concern, so I didn’t ask. I calmly asked: “What’s up?” My cold tone made Evelyn’s face stiffen. No matter what happened before, I always greeted her with a smile. But since she returned from her trip, I’ve been different. No arguments, no fuss, even my gaze lost warmth. This made her uneasy, quickly saying: “Are you still mad about me going with Damian? I told you, it was just to relax.” “Didn’t our daughter always say she wanted to go to the beach? Once I’m less busy, I’ll take you and her, okay?” “Is something the matter?” Evelyn’s expression shifted, caught off guard by the icy tone. In the past, no matter what happened, I always greeted her with a smile. But ever since she returned from her trip, I’ve changed. I no longer argue or make a fuss, and even my gaze towards her has grown cold. This unsettled her, prompting her to say hurriedly, “Are you still upset about me going out with Damian? I told you, it was just a break to clear my mind.” “Our daughter has always wanted to go to the beach, right? Once things settle down, I’ll take you both. How about that?” Her attempt at reconciliation felt more like a condescending gesture. To her, my daughter and I were like pets—amusing when she was in a good mood, and pushed aside when she wasn’t. Suddenly, Evelyn seemed to remember something and looked at me curiously. “Wait, where’s our daughter? I haven’t seen her since I got back.” “Did you send her to your mom?” I stared at her in disbelief. She had been back for two days and was only now asking about our daughter? It was clear she didn’t truly care about our daughter or this family. Before I could respond, Damian emerged from the bathroom wearing my bathrobe. 3. Seeing me, Damian was unfazed and acted as if he owned the place, warmly inviting me in: “Luke, come on in, make yourself comfortable.” I was momentarily speechless, looking questioningly at Evelyn on the sofa. “Why is he here?” Sensing my expression, Evelyn awkwardly explained, “Damian hasn’t been well, so I brought him here to look after him. Don’t overthink it.” I suddenly understood. No wonder Evelyn was home tonight—it was all for Damian. She seemed relieved, adding, “It’s a good thing you sent our daughter to your mom’s beforehand. Otherwise, it would’ve been inconvenient with so many people here.” I found it ironic. She hadn’t even noticed our daughter’s absence, her mind solely occupied with Damian. Damian feigned remorse, saying, “It’s all my fault for disrupting your married life, Luke. I’m just here temporarily. You aren’t upset, right?” But his eyes were filled with smugness and a challenge. Evelyn, anxious to avoid conflict, quickly interjected, “Luke, don’t worry. Damian and I agreed he’d sleep on the sofa. He won’t disturb us.” But the next moment, I saw pity in her eyes for him. How could she bear to let Damian sleep on a cold sofa? If I hadn’t come back suddenly, she would have cradled him in her arms. Thinking of this, I said, “Since his back is bad, he shouldn’t sleep on the sofa. He should sleep in the master bedroom.” Damian’s face lit up with delight at my words. “Really? Luke, you’re so generous.” Evelyn also breathed a sigh of relief. “Luke, I’m glad you see it this way. I was worried you’d be jealous of Damian and make a scene.” She thought I had matured and wouldn’t argue over such trivial matters. I was leaving anyway, so why should it matter to me where he stays? As Evelyn joyfully led Damian into the master bedroom, I quietly packed my bags, ready to stay at a hotel. But as I reached the door, Evelyn emerged from the bedroom and stopped me. “Luke, it’s late. Where are you going?” I smiled faintly. “To give you and Damian some space, of course.” Upon hearing this, Evelyn’s expression turned grim, and she gritted her teeth. “What do you mean by that, Luke?” “I already explained. It’s because of Damian’s back pain that I brought him here temporarily. You’re the one who agreed to let him stay in the master bedroom. What are you doing now?” “Don’t you have any sympathy?” Her words were endless, but I found them amusing. I used to argue with her about Damian, and she’d call me immature and unreasonable. Now that I was mature and didn’t argue, she was unhappy again. Damian pretended to sob. “I knew Luke was still mad at me. It’s all my fault. I should just suffer on the street.” His poor acting fooled Evelyn, who then shielded Damian. “Damian, you’re staying here today. I’d like to see who dares to kick you out!” Crossing her arms, she coldly said to me: “You’ve grown bold. Go ahead, leave if you dare!” She assumed I loved her too much to really leave. But from the moment our daughter died, my love for her vanished. I would never forgive her. I chuckled coldly, grabbed my suitcase, and left. Evelyn stared at my back in disbelief, unable to comprehend. It wasn’t until I got in the elevator that I heard her shout, “Go on! If you leave, don’t come back!” But she didn’t realize I truly wouldn’t return. She had lost me forever. At the hotel, I slept peacefully. The next morning, I woke up to dozens of missed calls—all from Evelyn. The last call was half an hour ago. I was surprised she hadn’t slept all night. She used to tell me to be more tolerant and not argue with Damian. When did she become so petty? When I opened the door, Evelyn sat tiredly in a chair. Seeing me, her eyes immediately welled up. “Just because I let Damian stay with us, you’re leaving and quitting your job?”

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Sloane said she couldn’t come to dinner with me. But an hour later, she walked into the same restaurant, standing right beside him. She tried to sit next to me like nothing was wrong. Aiden gave me a quiet, satisfied smile, as if he’d already won. Sloane kept sending excuses and half-apologies, expecting me to melt the way I always did. But I didn’t. That night, I finally stopped being predictable— and decided to walk away from her for good. I sat at the table, watching the food grow cold, much like my heart. Today was my birthday, but it was also the birthday of Aiden, Sloane’s childhood friend. I opened Aiden’s Instagram and saw a new post. “Grateful to have you by my side every birthday. Let’s keep celebrating together for years to come!” The photo showed two hands making a heart shape in front of a cake. One of them was Sloane’s, wearing the necklace I had given her. I liked the post, then put down my phone and dumped all of Sloane’s favorite dishes I had prepared into the trash. I went out to a restaurant to order my own favorites and celebrate my birthday alone. From now on, I would make each of my birthdays special – for myself. Halfway through my meal, Sloane called. Her voice held a hint of anxiety: “Grant, did you see Aiden’s Instagram post?” “I did.” “I’ll be back after celebrating with him. I’ll spend next year’s birthday with you, okay? Don’t be upset!” In the past, I would have thrown a fit, but not anymore. I simply replied, “Okay.” The next morning, around 7 AM, I was woken up by my phone ringing. It rang three times before cutting off. I checked – it was Sloane. She used to be too lazy to use her key, so she’d always call me to let her in, ringing three times before hanging up. No matter what I was doing, I would rush to open the door for her. Today, I didn’t. I tossed my phone aside and went back to sleep. The spare key was under the shoe rack by the door. She knew that. I had been up until 3 AM packing, and my head was still fuzzy. My phone rang a few more times, but I couldn’t be bothered to look. Some time later, I vaguely heard someone unlocking the door and coming in. The door slammed against the wall loudly, followed by my bedroom door being flung open and Sloane’s angry voice. “Grant, why didn’t you open the door for me? I called several times! You know I hate using keys!” I opened my eyes and looked at her impassively. “Too tired. Didn’t hear it.” Sloane opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said, “I’m hungry. Get up and make me a sandwich. I didn’t sleep all night, and I need to catch up on some rest after I eat.” In the past, I would have jumped up to make her breakfast. But now, I just said flatly, “I’m tired too. Why don’t you go downstairs and buy something?” Sloane was furious but tried to control herself. “Are you still mad about me not being here for your birthday yesterday?” “No, you’re overthinking it.” Sloane didn’t believe me. She continued, “Aiden is like a brother to me. His parents passed away when he was young. If I don’t celebrate his birthday with him, who will? Don’t be so petty, or I’ll really get angry!” “You’re right. You should celebrate with him. I’m not upset.” I got up to go to the bathroom. Sloane grabbed my hand and reluctantly pulled out a red string bracelet from her pocket. “Here, don’t be mad. This is your birthday gift. See? I remembered.” Looking at the cheap red string with its dangling metal charm, which seemed so carelessly chosen, and thinking of the expensive watch Aiden had shown off on Instagram, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. I had thought Sloane’s recent frugality was to save up for my birthday gift. Apparently, I had been deluding myself. I shook my wrist, showing the watch my mom had sent me a few days ago. “Thanks, but I already have a watch. It’s not convenient to wear this. You keep it.” Sloane snapped, “You say you’re not angry, but you used to be happy with whatever I gave you. Are you getting picky now?” Sloane’s salary wasn’t high. Her birthday gifts to me were always cheap, costing a few dollars or tens of dollars at most. Sometimes she even forgot to give me anything. But I never minded. For her birthdays, I always prepared thoughtful gifts. Just a week ago, for her birthday, I had given her a gold necklace. I was tired. I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. I took the red string and put it in my pocket. “Thank you.” I changed my clothes and opened the door. Sloane called out anxiously, “Where are you going?” “To play basketball with friends.” Since getting together with Sloane, all my free time belonged to her. I accompanied her everywhere, took care of her, and had no time left for myself. That wouldn’t be the case anymore. I needed to live for myself now.

After an exhilarating game with my friends, we sat on the benches by the court, drinking water. My friends joked, “We thought you’d forgotten about us since you got a girlfriend. We were about to stop inviting you out.” I apologized and promised, “I’m sorry, guys. It won’t happen again. Count me in for any future plans.” “That’s more like it! Come on, let’s go to the internet cafe and play some games.” When I was with Sloane, I couldn’t fit into her Instagram world, but I had slowly distanced myself from my own friends for her sake. I revolved my life around her, prioritizing her above all else. Looking back, I realized how foolish I had been. When I got home, it was almost midnight. I opened the bedroom door to find Sloane sitting on the bed. She frowned and said, “Grant, why are you back so late? I had to order takeout for lunch and dinner. It was awful.” I opened the closet to get some clean clothes. “I ate at restaurants today too. The food was pretty good, not worse than home-cooked meals.” Sloane stared at me in surprise. “You used to say you’d cook for me every day and that I shouldn’t eat takeout because it’s unhygienic!” “I was wrong. Living in this society, if you can’t cook, you have to get used to takeout food.” A flash of anger crossed Sloane’s eyes. “You say you’re not angry, but you’ve been out all day without a single call or message, and you didn’t come home to cook for me!” I replied calmly, “I’m not angry. I was just hanging out with friends. My phone died, so I couldn’t call.” Seeing my attitude, Sloane suddenly threw off the covers and got out of bed angrily. She grabbed me as I was about to leave, her voice shrill. “Can’t you be more understanding? I’ve told you we’re just like siblings! What are you still upset about? Grant, my patience has limits!” I shook off her hand. “I’m really not upset. I’m tired. I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” With that, I took my clothes and went to the bathroom to shower, ignoring Sloane’s calls from inside the bedroom. That night, I slept soundly for the first time in a long while. Sloane was a restless sleeper, kicking off the covers several times a night. When we slept together, I never got a full night’s rest, having to get up multiple times to cover her. Early the next morning, Sloane sat in the living room with her arms crossed, her face dark with anger. I knew she was waiting for me to apologize first and make her happy. In the past, whenever she was unhappy, I would beg for her forgiveness, even if I didn’t think I had done anything wrong. Then she would list a bunch of conditions, and only after I had fulfilled them all would she reluctantly forgive me. This had been the pattern for years, and I was tired of it. I ignored her, got ready, and left. I had important things to do today.

I went to the office to submit my resignation letter. My manager was surprised and tried to persuade me to stay, but I insisted on leaving. I had originally taken this job to be close to Sloane, to take care of her. But now, that was no longer necessary. Last night, I had a video call with my parents, telling them I was planning to quit my job and return home. I saw the tears of joy in my mom’s eyes. My dad’s health hasn’t been good lately, and he’s been struggling to run the small supermarket by himself. When I say “home,” it’s not some remote village, but a coastal city. Sloane had always refused to go back with me, saying she wasn’t used to the food there. So I left my parents to find work here with her. That evening, I met up with my friends for dinner and told them the news. They all agreed that going back was the right decision, as my parents’ health was more important. After a few drinks, someone suddenly asked, “What about Sloane? Is she willing to go back with you now?” I was silent for a moment, then smiled bitterly. “No, we’ll probably break up.” I used to think I could build a home here with Sloane, and then bring my parents over later. But now that home was gone, and I was returning to the one with my parents – the one that would never abandon me. When I got back home, I saw Sloane wearing a white dress, her black hair flowing loose, face perfectly made up, video chatting with Aiden on her phone. Aiden’s voice came through the speaker: “Snow, you look absolutely gorgeous. Even in a simple white dress, you look like a fairy!” Sloane giggled, covering her face coyly. “Really? You’re still such a sweet talker.” I stood there silently. This “simple” white dress had cost me a month’s salary when I bought it for her. Sloane turned around, still smiling, but her face fell when she saw me. She quickly told Aiden, “I have to go now. I’ll be there soon. Have a snack while you wait.” Sloane could be all smiles and care for Aiden, but she couldn’t even spare a smile for me. She looked at me with disgust, then walked past me to put on her shoes and leave. She was starting her cold treatment again. In the years we’ve been together, she often gave me the silent treatment over issues related to Aiden. Each time, I would be anxious, trying everything to please her. This time, I wasn’t nervous. I just took the groceries I had bought and went to the kitchen to make myself a late-night snack. I had been drinking with my friends earlier and hadn’t eaten much, so I was a bit hungry now. Over the next few days, I was busy handing over my work and packing my belongings. My things in the house were gradually disappearing, but Sloane didn’t notice.

Today, Sloane went out again to meet Aiden. I sat at the dining table, scrolling through my phone while eating. Aiden had posted on Instagram: “Whenever I feel lonely, you’re always there for me. I’m so grateful!” The photo showed Sloane and Aiden with their heads together, making peace signs at the camera. Sloane’s girlfriends were all commenting, admiring their relationship. They had always thought Sloane should be with Aiden, and that I was the third wheel interfering in their relationship. Looking at that Instagram post, I suddenly felt that Sloane’s friends weren’t wrong – they did look more like a couple. In the past, after enduring silently for a long time, I would gently remind Sloane to keep some distance from Aiden to avoid misunderstandings. Her friends would then mock me for being too controlling, saying I was suffocating Sloane and not giving her any freedom to have friends. Sloane never defended me. Instead, she joined them in criticizing me, telling me not to restrict her and to give her more freedom. Sloane had commented: “You’re always there for me too!” I exited Instagram without a ripple in my heart and got up to clear the table. Thunder rumbled outside. It was about to rain. I went to the balcony to bring in the laundry, and large raindrops began hitting the windows. In the past, whenever it rained, I would anxiously call Sloane to ask where she was and rush out with an umbrella to pick her up, afraid she might get even slightly wet. She and her friends would then laugh at me for being like an old woman, worrying too much and ruining their fun. I showered early and lay in bed scrolling through short videos, eventually falling asleep without realizing it. The sound of Sloane forcefully pushing open my bedroom door woke me up. Seeing that I was sleeping, she angrily questioned me. “Grant, it’s pouring outside, and your girlfriend isn’t home yet. Aren’t you worried at all? If it were my friends’ boyfriends, they’d be calling non-stop asking where they are and rushing out with umbrellas to pick them up! What about you?!”

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Three months before my wedding, my fiancée posted a baby bump photo on her Ins. It was her with my adopted brother. The caption read: [Legally welcoming our little one!] My adopted brother, Noah, commented with a celebratory emoji. My mom liked it. [Once the baby is born, I’ll take care of them. You two can enjoy your time together.] I couldn’t help but hit reply with a question mark. The next second, Chloe’s furious texts flooded my phone. “He’s just stepping up as the father figure for a bit, to give the baby a stable start. Once the baby is here, things will go back to normal between us, and I’ll be yours again.” “Don’t be so petty. My mom also said we should wait until your career is stable before getting legally married—having the wedding first, then doing the paperwork later, isn’t that good enough?” I calmly hummed in response, then deleted every single post related to Chloe on my Ins. I updated my status: “Need a bride. Any takers?” Chloe Davis was the first to reply. [Leo Hayes, are you insane? I’m just temporarily with Noah, do you really have to make this public knowledge?] [Who are you posting this for? I’m warning you, don’t make things difficult for Noah!] My adopted brother, Noah Hayes, quickly followed: [Chloe just wants to give the baby a legal identity. I won’t steal her from you. When you two eventually marry, my child can even call you Dad.] My mom, Brenda Hayes, scolded me for being ungrateful: [You get a child without all the hard work. Noah is helping you so much; you should be thankful.] Below, a flurry of Chloe’s friends joined in the mockery: [They’re practically brothers anyway, right? Who cares who she marries? Noah can have her on weekdays, and you get the weekends!] Everyone was joking, laughing. I stared at the screen for a long time, my eyes burning. Tears eventually blurred my vision, hitting the phone screen. They were the ones who messed up, yet they were acting so righteous, pointing fingers at me. It was ridiculous. These people weren’t worth my tears. I wiped the wetness from my face with a harsh gesture. Amidst the chaotic comments, one stood out: Mia Sterling asked, “Is the bride spot still open?” Mia was my childhood friend. After college, I stayed local, while she went abroad for her master’s. Once Chloe and I started dating, Mia had intentionally kept her distance. We hadn’t seen each other in years. While I was still reeling, her call came through. “Leo, I’ve always liked you.” “You know how much I despise your adopted brother; I would never get involved with him. All these years, I’ve focused on my career, my relationship history is clean, and I have no messy social connections.” As soon as she finished speaking, a document popped up on my phone—it was an agreement to transfer all her assets. “This is all my sincerity,” her voice was a little shaky. “Would you consider me?” A lump formed in my throat. I suddenly remembered a time in elementary school when our teacher gave her two of her favorite chocolates as a reward. She was so tempted, swallowing secretly, but she didn’t keep a single one. She put both into my pocket. She’d always been like that, pouring her heart out, giving me her best. I took a deep breath. “I will.” Love had left me scarred. I’d planned to live alone. But Grandma’s dying wish was to see me have my own family, with someone who genuinely loved me. Chloe didn’t deserve that, but Mia would be the best choice. Her voice trembled with surprise. “I’ll finish up work as fast as I can. I’ll be back in two weeks to marry you.” “Leo, you won’t change your mind this time, right?” The vulnerability in her tone reminded me of our childhood promise—I’d once laughed and said I’d be her groom when we grew up. “No,” I whispered. “Mia, let’s pinky swear.”

After hanging up, my mom, Brenda, pushed open my bedroom door. “Where are those sapphire cufflinks your dad left you before he passed?” I remained silent, not answering. Mom frowned, annoyed. “What’s with that attitude? Noah just thinks they’re exquisite and wants to borrow them for his formal wear. Hand them over. Don’t be so petty!” My adopted brother, Noah, clung to Mom’s arm, looking forlorn. “Never mind, Mom. Leo never saw me as a real brother. If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t have to. I won’t force him.” “He dares not to recognize you! Those cufflinks belonged to my husband, they’re your father’s. Today, I’m making the decision to give them to you.” Mom hugged Noah, glaring at me sternly. “If you don’t hand them over now, don’t blame me for having someone search your room.” I stared at her, stunned, then curved my lips into a smile that was uglier than a cry. The gentle, understanding mother I remembered had long become unrecognizable. But, I was about to leave this place forever. Unwilling to engage in another meaningless argument, I silently retrieved the velvet box containing the cufflinks from the back of my drawer and handed it over. Mom nodded, satisfied. “That’s right. Noah is your brother; you should naturally take care of him more.” After she left, Noah fastened the cufflinks onto his shirt right in front of me, raising an eyebrow. “Bro, don’t blame Mom for being biased. Honestly, these cufflinks look better on me.” “Just like Chloe is a better fit for me as a girlfriend.” “What’s mine, no one can ever take away.” I watched Noah’s smug expression, saying nothing. With people like him, the more you engage, the more they cling. I grabbed my backpack and walked straight to the stairs, ignoring him completely. “Ah! Why did you push me… ” Noah suddenly darted in front of me, pretending I’d shoved him, stumbling backward. Though I loathed him, I instinctively reached out to grab him—twenty-some steps was no small fall. “Leo, don’t you dare lay a hand on him!” Chloe rushed up, violently swatting away my hand reaching for Noah. My hand slammed hard against the metal railing with a dull thud, instantly swelling and bruising. The sharp pain made me break out in a cold sweat. “Chloe, good thing you came…” Noah cowered in Chloe’s arms, trembling with teary eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m here.” Chloe gently patted his back, then shot me a cold glare. “You know he’s fragile, yet you’d be so cruel?” I looked down at my rapidly swelling hand, then back at Noah, carefully shielded by Chloe. The irony felt like ice water splashed on my face. This woman, who had sworn to love me forever and was supposed to marry me in three months, how had she become so utterly unrecognizable?

After comforting Noah, Chloe turned to me, her expression grim. “I know you’re upset that I hid my marriage and pregnancy with him from you. You can vent your anger at me, since I didn’t tell you upfront.” “But you can’t hurt Noah. He’s already weak and pitiful enough.” “He only asked for a chance to be a father, is that so wrong? Why should he suffer your anger?” She pointed a finger at me. “You will apologize to Noah today!” I struggled to control my trembling body, rasping, “What did I do wrong? What exactly did I do wrong?” Chloe stared at my bloodshot eyes, momentarily stunned. “It’s okay, Chloe,” Noah interjected, tugging her sleeve, his voice filled with feigned sobs. “Even though I almost fell down the stairs… I don’t blame Leo. He doesn’t have to apologize.” “You and Leo are still getting married. I don’t want you fighting because of me.” Chloe sighed, her voice laced with pity. “Noah, your thoughtfulness sometimes breaks my heart.” Her gaze hardened as she looked at me again. “Ultimately, you’re just jealous of Noah, can’t stand to see him doing better than you.” “Today, for his sake, I’ll let the apology slide.” “But if you ever dare to harm him again, I will make you pay.” She lifted Noah into her arms, and as she left, she threw a remark filled with disappointment at me: “You’re nothing compared to Noah.” The silent living room was empty except for me. I stared blankly at the withered leaves falling outside the window, finally unable to stop myself from crouching down, burying my face in my hands. This was the last time I’d cry for Chloe. That afternoon, Chloe updated her Ins. It was a nine-picture grid, showing off various meticulously decorated corners of what she called a bridal home. The caption read: “Every room, every piece of furniture, every decoration here was chosen and arranged by me, all to give my baby a warm and happy home.” The comments section quickly filled with well wishes. “Congrats, Chloe, on your impending bundle of joy!” “So, Chloe and Leo are having a shotgun wedding! Congrats, congrats!” “Leo, you’re so lucky to have such a wonderful partner like Chloe!” “I’ll cancel a hundred-million-dollar deal if I have to, but I won’t miss the wedding in three months!” Just as the blessings poured in, Noah suddenly commented to clarify: “Everyone, please don’t misunderstand. This isn’t Chloe’s bridal home, this is my house.” The comments section fell into an awkward silence. I broke the deadlock, replying: “Three’s a crowd. I’m out. Wishing you two happiness.” After sending that, I didn’t bother with the reactions. I just deleted Chloe and Noah from my friends list. Minutes later, Chloe’s call came in. “Leo, are you done causing trouble?” My tone was calm. “I’m not causing trouble.” She exploded. “What you wrote on my Ins was practically slandering Noah! Are you only happy if you brand him as the third wheel? If you keep this up, our engagement is off!” Listening to her cold accusations, my heart was like stagnant water, completely still. “Chloe, why do you think I’d still want something that’s been used by someone else?”

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