My fiancé was dirt poor. So poor I had to fashion my wedding dress from a mosquito net, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. During our rare vacation, when we’d finally saved enough for a trip, Blake left me in the car while I was sleeping and walked away. Men stuck on the highway took turns, one after another, in the car, but I was completely unaware. When we finally got to the Airbnb, he, usually so reserved and controlled, started playing increasingly twisted games. It wasn’t until he was showering that I saw him sharing photos and videos of me in the car, and in the public restroom near the rest area, in a group chat. Disbelief choked me. I wanted to confront him, but another message popped up in the chat. “Just ten thousand for Young Master Blake’s fiancée? I’ll pay thirty thousand upfront!” “Young Master Blake really knows how to play! Pretending to be poor for all these years, just to get revenge for Scarlett Zhao. Finally, he’s playing for high stakes!” Before I could even process why my fiancé was being called “Young Master Blake,” the man in the shower instantly replied: “Scarlett Zhao only went into the woods with those guys back then to save me. I just want to get revenge for her.” Tears streamed down my face, hitting the screen. It hit me like a lightning bolt. I was the one who went into the woods with those ten men to save him back then…
The chat continued to buzz. “Ten thousand a pop, tsk tsk. Young Master Blake must have made hundreds of thousands these past few days, right?” “You really think Young Master Blake needs money? Did you see Scarlett Zhao’s Ins post? Young Master Blake just gifted her a three-hundred-million villa yesterday!” I vaguely heard a cheerful chuckle from the bathroom. “I was supposed to take Scarlett to France for the May Day holiday, but couldn’t make it, so I just got her a small gift as compensation. It’s fine. At least this island trip let me get revenge for what happened to her back then.” The group members showered him with praise, but one person, seemingly unable to stomach it, asked: “But Young Master Blake, you’ve been pretending to be poor for so many years, and only Harper Su stuck by you. Last time it was your birthday, she even sold blood to buy you a gift. Aren’t you going a bit too far treating her like this…?” It felt like someone had violently squeezed my heart, and my breath hitched. A moment later, Blake replied with an eye-roll emoji and a few sentences: “If it weren’t for her, Scarlett wouldn’t have gone through that, having to leave the country to escape the backlash.” “If it weren’t for her, Scarlett and I would have been together ages ago. Everything Harper’s going through is her own damn fault.” “Harper needs to experience a hundred times the pain Scarlett did. Tonight’s guests won’t be charged. Come on in, everyone who wants a piece of her.” Amidst the cheers of dozens of people in the group, Blake sent the Airbnb’s location and our room number. “Once she drinks the milk, she’ll be out cold. Just take it easy on her.” I wanted to rush in, snatch his phone, and stop him, but my body trembled uncontrollably, my limbs completely unresponsive. Hearing Blake about to walk out of the bathroom, I mustered my last bit of strength, marked all the tablet messages as unread, and then collapsed onto the bed, wracked with pain. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Blake rushed over. Seeing my eyes red-rimmed and tears streaming down, he looked surprised. “Why are you suddenly having an episode?” He knew I had bipolar disorder. Sometimes I’d be tormented by intense depression, wanting to leave this world. Other times, I’d become abnormally manic, practically wanting to grab a knife and kill everyone. When an episode hit, my observations became even sharper. For the first time, I saw it: under Blake’s mask of concern, a flicker of well-hidden disgust in his eyes. Blake’s gaze fell on the tablet, and he probed thoughtfully, “Did you see something?” My throat felt like it was choked with rocks and sand. I couldn’t utter a single word, only shaking my head silently. Blake checked the tablet, confirming the messages were unread before he turned and hugged me with feigned tenderness. “I’m sorry. Have we been doing too much these past few days? Is it too much for you?” “It’s all my fault for being useless, for not being able to take you to a doctor… The medication for bipolar disorder is too expensive. I’m sorry, baby…” A man who could give a three-hundred-million villa as a “small gift” was now telling me he couldn’t afford even a few dozen dollars for medication. My stomach churned. His embrace made me sick. I struggled to break free from his arms. He hesitated for a moment, a hint of struggle on his face. I almost卑微地 thought, if only Blake, you still cared about me, even just a little, if only you’d abandon your plan… In the end. I watched him get up and pour a glass of milk. “Drink some milk and get some sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” Since the May Day holiday, Blake had prepared a glass of milk for me every day. It wasn’t until I saw the messages in the group chat that I understood why I’d slept soundly for four or five hours on the highway, why I slept so deeply every night at the Airbnb, only to wake up with shameful marks all over my body the next morning. I thought Blake had finally opened up, developed a taste for me, but I never expected… The thought of those hundreds of photos with all sorts of different men made me sink deeper into despair. Even with me in this state, having an episode, he still intended to let those men come and take their revenge on me? My hands trembled as I slapped the glass of milk, sending it flying. Blake’s face instantly flashed with a flicker of annoyance. But when he saw me, pale as a ghost and slumped on the floor, wildly hitting my head with my hands, he said nothing, just let out an almost imperceptible sigh and turned to leave. I stared blankly, letting the waves of depression and self-loathing wash over me. I don’t know how much time passed, but suddenly, there was a faint click of the doorknob from outside. Were Blake’s “friends” finally here? One, two, or… how many?
The doorknob gently turned, and a man stealthily crept in. I stared at him in the darkness, my eyes bloodshot. He was clearly startled. “Oh, crap, you’re still awake…” Before he could finish, Blake’s urgent, sharp voice cut him off. “You’re drunk! Wrong room!” Blake forcibly dragged the man out, speaking in hushed tones outside the door. I caught fragmented pieces of their conversation: “She’s having an episode… Go back… there will be other chances…” The man’s voice rose. “I even prepared the little pills! How can I…” I don’t know what Blake said in the end, but the surroundings fell silent. Throughout the rest of the night, similar situations happened twice more. I stayed awake, sitting motionless on the floor. Blake didn’t come in to check on me. I thought blankly, was it worth it for Blake to pretend for ten years, all for this day? I had met Blake even earlier than he thought. I was in the middle of the road, bipolar disorder suddenly striking, rendering me unable to move. Just as the traffic was about to rush towards me, a young man suddenly appeared and saved me. Later, I inquired about him everywhere and found out he was known as the poorest student in school. A gambling father, a sick mother, and him – kind and silent. From then on, my entire youth revolved around Blake. From high school to college, I pursued him for seven long years until we finally got together. When he had no money for food, I would eat cheap buns every day, giving him all my living expenses so he could have proper meals with meat and vegetables. He envied other boys who had the latest sneakers. I endured harassment working at a busy diner for two months, buying him three pairs that made every guy in school incredibly jealous. He was even beaten by ten thugs and almost lost his life. It was me who swallowed my pride and agreed to go into the woods with them so he could escape unharmed. Last year, his mother’s illness worsened, requiring hundreds of thousands. I begged everyone, even kowtowed to my stepfather who used to bully me when I was little, just to raise the money. I thought sharing hardships would lead to undying love, but it turned out to be a cruel prank by a rich man. But why? WHY?! Blake had forgotten to take his tablet, and new messages kept popping up: “Young Master Blake is being so unfair. He said we could come, and now he won’t let us.” “Don’t even get me started, I really want to know what it’s like with a woman having an episode… I heard some get super excited!” “I really want to experience Young Master Blake’s life. He pretended to be poor in high school, had Harper working like a dog, sacrificing everything for him, and also had a beauty like Scarlett Zhao who, to save him, willingly went into the woods with other men. Tsk, tsk, tsk.” “Oh, come on, you playboy, you don’t even have a tenth of Young Master Blake’s devotion. Scarlett Zhao just returned to the country, and Young Master Blake not only bought her a car and designer bags but also purchased an entire piece of land in Grandview Estates, planning to build a mansion there someday. He doesn’t even care if Harper finds out and jumps off a building.” These words were like sharp knives, tearing repeatedly at my already tattered heart. Blake and I, broke and with nothing, crammed into a tiny studio in a sketchy part of town. He once held my hand and said that if we worked hard together, one day we’d be able to afford a subsidized apartment near Grandview Estates. I always thought a bright, clean apartment with one bedroom and one living room was our unreachable dream. It turned out everything was so absurd. I frantically picked up the fruit knife beside me. Just as I was positioning it against my wrist, a sickeningly intimate moan suddenly came from the room next door: “Blake~ Mmm…”
The Airbnb had terrible soundproofing. The woman’s voice was almost a taunt in my ear: “I missed you so much too… Just thinking about you and Harper on your honeymoon here, my depression acts up…” “I’m so sad, boo hoo hoo. I keep dreaming about going into the woods with those men…” I recognized it instantly. It was Scarlett Zhao’s voice. I never thought Blake valued her so much that he’d even bring her to our “honeymoon” and arrange for her to stay in the room next door. Blake’s voice was husky, filled with endless tenderness and heartache: “Scarlett, I’m so sorry for what I put you through.” “Don’t be afraid. The top psychology team from abroad is already on their way. Just get some good sleep, and by tomorrow, the doctors will be here, okay?” After I got together with Blake, I’d had several episodes. Each time, he claimed he couldn’t afford the expensive treatment. I was sensible too, daring not to spend an extra dime. I’d just lock myself in the room, refusing to eat or drink, enduring it until it passed. One time, I almost died. At the last moment, a surge of survival instinct made me dial for emergency help. The doctor said if I’d been a few minutes slower, I would have been gone. Afterward, Blake even blamed me for spending the rent money. I just listened in silence, went and sold blood once, and paid the rent. It turned out that when he loved someone, he could spend a fortune to fly in foreign experts overnight, instead of scolding her for wasting money by going to the hospital. Scarlett Zhao’s voice stretched out, whining, “Blake, seeing Harper have an episode, aren’t you feeling bad for her?” In the long, yet fleeting darkness, I heard Blake softly scoff, “How could I? In this whole world, the only person I truly care for is you.” Scarlett Zhao, with a hint of petulance, giggled and asked him, “You’ve been sleeping here with me every night, listening to other men play with Harper. Don’t tell me you have some kind of kink, you like other people using your wife? If that’s the case, I won’t have anything to do with you.” He said in a low voice, “Scarlett, you know I’m doing all of this to get revenge for you. As for Harper… I won’t marry her. After being used by so many men, she’s not worthy of being the Blake family’s young mistress.” Soon, unspeakable sounds came from next door. My phone lit up with two notifications. One was “3rd Anniversary with Blake,” and the other was “Happy 25th Birthday to me.” The man I had given my entire youth and everything to, the man I loved, was spending my 25th birthday, on our three-year anniversary, while I was suffering terribly from a bipolar episode, indulging in a night of debauchery with another woman in the room next door. My heart shattered completely. I sent a text to my step-brother, Sawyer Hayes: “Sawyer Hayes, can you come pick me up? I don’t want to be with Blake anymore.” He replied instantly: “Okay, wait for me.” A tidal wave of exhaustion washed over me. Amidst overwhelming self-loathing, I slowly drifted to sleep. But I forgot to ask Sawyer how he knew where I was.
The next morning, I was woken again by the sounds from next door. I lay with my eyes closed, letting tears stream down. An hour later, the frolicking next door stopped, and the sound of running water from the shower began. Another hour passed before Blake walked in as usual, though his ears were still unusually flushed. Blake acted as if nothing had happened and took me downstairs for breakfast. Malicious gazes, a mix of curiosity and malice, landed on me. “Is that her? She looks like…” “I remember two days ago when she checked in, she was wearing that mosquito net wedding dress…” “She looks so innocent, but behind closed doors, she’s really…” My body stiffened. The whispers in my ears magnified, growing louder and louder… Did they all know? Had they all seen? Seen me in that ridiculous mosquito net wedding dress, in the back of the car, in the public restroom by the highway rest area, in the Airbnb… like a broken rag doll, used and discarded? My hands trembled violently. My fork clattered to the floor. All eyes instantly and shamelessly focused on me. Cold sweat drenched my back. I squeezed a sentence through gritted teeth: “What… what are they saying…?” Blake shot a warning glare at the people around us, then patted my hand reassuringly. “They’re not talking about you. Don’t overthink it.” How could that be?! They definitely saw it! How much did Blake hate me?! After letting countless men humiliate me, he even uploaded the videos online?! My pupils constricted, and a scream tore from my throat before I even realized what I was doing. Blake looked at me, bewildered, a hint of guilt and unease flickering across his face. My hands instinctively covered my eyes. Overwhelming panic suffocated me, making it impossible to breathe. Through my fingers, I saw Sawyer Hayes striding towards me. Just as I thought I was about to be rescued. Blake looked at him and snapped, his voice sharp and urgent. His words made me plummet into hell instantly: “I told you to come tonight! What are you doing here now!” Sawyer Hayes was my step-brother, only three years older than me. When I was little, my stepfather, right in front of my mom, reached into my shirt. It was Sawyer who grabbed a beer bottle, injured him, and dragged me out of that hellhole.
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