The fourth year of my marriage to Julian Hayes, I got pregnant. When I went for my first prenatal appointment, the nurse checked my details and told me there was no record of my marriage. I froze: “No? How is that possible?” The nurse pointed to the computer: “See? It shows no marriage registration for you.” Not convinced, I rushed to City Hall to verify, but the answer was identical. “Mr. Hayes is indeed married. His spouse’s name is Iris Thompson…” Iris Thompson? I was struck by lightning, my mind a blank! Iris Thompson, my half-sister, and Julian Hayes’s first love. Years ago, to pursue her dreams, my sister ran away on her wedding day, cruelly abandoning Julian. But now, she was Julian’s legal wife! … I walked out of City Hall like a zombie, my gaze unfocused, my steps unsteady. It wasn’t until I got into the waiting cab that the tears I’d held back finally fell silently. Four years ago, to save our families from public humiliation, I stepped in and married Julian, replacing my runaway sister. Initially, Julian was distant and cold towards me. But I never complained. I meticulously took care of every aspect of his life. Gradually, Julian lowered his guard, worn down by my daily presence. He started to tacitly allow me to mess with his schedule. He’d patiently listen to my boring dad jokes. He even trusted me with confidential work documents to organize. Later, Julian became increasingly kind to me. He gave me a black card with an unlimited spending limit, and took me to every Michelin-starred restaurant. I thought I had finally won Julian’s heart. Until two months ago, when Iris, diagnosed with terminal cancer, suddenly returned from abroad. That night, my father called a family meeting. He looked grim as he informed me: “Your sister has late-stage cancer, with only six months left at most. Her biggest regret is not marrying Julian. So, you need to step aside for now. Once the wedding is over, and your sister is gone, Julian will still be yours.” My stepmother pleaded desperately: “Iris is your sister, just make this one sacrifice!” Iris sobbed heartbrokenly: “This is my only wish before I die, please, make it happen.” I couldn’t believe my ears. My eyes instantly welled up. I challenged them: “You pushed me out like a puppet to be a substitute bride, and now you want Julian to marry my sister? What do you take me for? I absolutely refuse!” My father ignored my accusations, grounding me until I agreed. On the third day, I heard Julian had smashed a teacup in front of my father, furious. On the thirteenth day, my phone buzzed with news reports of Julian publicly declaring, “My wife can only be Mia.” On the twenty-eighth day, Julian froze all business collaborations with the Thompson family, demanding they hand over his wife! Finally, a month later, the locked door to my room opened. Thinking of everything Julian had done for me during that time, my eyes instantly moistened. I didn’t even bother to put on shoes, stumbling into his arms. But the next second, I heard his voice, hoarse: “Mia, I’m sorry.” “Your parents were adamant, even kneeling to beg me. For the sake of our families’ long-standing relationship, I have to go along with this charade for your sister.” “But don’t worry, it’s just a fake marriage. My only wife will always be you.” At that moment, I felt my heart plummet to rock bottom, every breath a sharp pain. After two seconds of shock, I tenderly stroked Julian’s gaunt cheek, holding back my tears: “You’ve already done so much.” Later, I watched Julian place a diamond ring on Iris’s finger under everyone’s gaze, giving her a magnificent wedding. After that, he continued to treat me as well as before. But he spent more and more time with Iris, from occasional visits to staying out for several nights in a row. When I threw a tantrum, he’d patiently explain: “I don’t love her; I just want to be her friend and accompany her through her last days.” I believed Julian. I never imagined the truth would be a brutal slap across my face. … By the time the car stopped in front of Hayes Enterprises, I had composed myself. I was still thinking about our non-existent marriage registration. As soon as I reached the top floor, I bumped into Julian’s secretary, Sarah. Sarah saw me, her expression a little unnatural. “Mrs. Hayes, what brings you here?” “I’m here to see Julian.” “Mr. Hayes is in a meeting right now, he doesn’t have time…” Ignoring Sarah’s attempts to stop me, I quickly walked to the office door. Just as I was about to push it open, I heard Iris’s voice from inside. “Julian, look into my eyes and answer me.” Iris pulled at Julian’s tie with her left hand, her right hand pressing against his chest. “Here, have you ever truly let me go?” Julian’s throat bobbed. He caught his breath, scalded by the warmth of Iris’s fingertips, yet his voice was cold: “You’re overthinking it.” “Overthinking?” Iris chuckled. “Didn’t you pretend to marry Mia just to wait for me to come back? Now that I’ve just returned, you immediately married me legally.” “And those things you wrote in your diary.” “You said you agreed to Mia taking my place to force me to come back… Mmph!” Iris didn’t finish her sentence. Julian suddenly cupped the back of her neck. All unsaid words were sealed in a nearly violent kiss. His gaze was burning, every word ground out from between his teeth: “Yes, I’ve never let you go. So, Iris, how do you plan to repay what you owe me?” I stood outside the door, my entire body as if immersed in ice water, numb to the point of losing all feeling. I remembered Julian holding me in his arms just days ago, kissing my hair, saying, “Mia, your sister is a thing of the past. Now, only you are worth my true feelings.” How ridiculous. It turned out that his so-called ‘true feelings’ were nothing but insincere lies. Our marriage, from the very beginning, was a sham. I slowly closed my eyes, fighting back the tears. If this was Julian’s choice. Then I would grant him his wish, let him and the woman he truly loves live happily ever after!
I rode the elevator in a daze. When I came to my senses, the elevator had already stopped on the basement level. An intern, Liam, enthusiastically walked up to me, “Are you here to see Ms. Iris Thompson’s art exhibition? Please follow me.” That’s when I realized I’d forgotten to press a floor. Compelled by an unknown force, I walked into the exhibition hall. Liam followed behind me, enthusiastically introducing: “This exhibition was funded by Mr. Hayes, and a national tour is planned next.” My gaze fell on one of the oil paintings. It was a man’s nude back, his back muscles clearly defined, with a unique, striking scar on his lower back. I had traced the outline of that scar countless times in the dark, so I knew exactly who the man in the painting was. Iris had painted many portraits of Julian, the dates marked in the bottom right corner clear and glaring. June 20th: Julian standing busy in the kitchen, his back bathed in a warm glow. — That was the third day I was confined to my room. I was on a hunger strike, my stomach aching until I fainted, but he was cooking porridge for Iris. July 1st: A pair of distinctly jointed hands folding a silk nightgown embroidered with irises, a wedding ring on his ring finger gleaming coldly. — That was the thirteenth day I was confined. I’d cut my finger with a blade in protest, soaking half the bedsheet in blood, while he was meticulously organizing Iris’s clothes. July 15th: He walked under a tree-lined avenue holding an umbrella, and at the edge of the frame, I could vaguely see his fingers intertwined with someone else’s. — That was the twenty-eighth day I was confined, my father had chained me to the bed, forcing me to end the relationship. I was curled up in a ball on a sweat-soaked bed, suffering from a high fever, while he walked leisurely hand-in-hand with Iris in the morning light. Each painting before me was like a needle, fiercely piercing my heart. So, during that month of utter darkness, he wasn’t fighting for me, but rather accompanying Iris the whole time! His smashing a teacup in front of my father, his public declaration of love, his cancellation of collaboration with the Thompson Corporation—it was all just a smokescreen. I clenched my fists tightly, my nails digging deep into my palms, but I felt no pain. I couldn’t bear to look anymore and turned to leave the exhibition. … I booked an abortion procedure for a week later, then headed to the old family estate to collect my mother’s keepsakes. When I got home, my father unexpectedly threw an airplane ticket at me. “Your stepmother and I discussed it. We want Iris to live with Julian until she leaves.” “This is a ticket for ten days from now. Go travel for a while, consider it a little getaway.” I clutched the ticket, my lips pressed tightly together. I knew. My father was telling me to make space for Julian and Iris. After all, only if I left could they be alone without any qualms. “Mia, please don’t misunderstand. We just want Iris to have a good final journey…” My stepmother said, her eyes red, the same old platitudes that had made my ears numb. I calmly interrupted: “I get it. I’ll leave.” Julian, I no longer want him. This home, I no longer care for it. My father looked a bit surprised, not expecting me to agree so quickly, thinking my spirit had finally been broken. His tone softened slightly: “We’re holding a farewell ceremony for Iris. Remember to attend in three days.” “Okay.” … I returned home, grabbed a cardboard box, and started packing things related to Julian. There were the matching couple’s cups he gave me for his birthday. The ticket stubs from their first movie together. And the photo booth pictures I’d forced him to take. Just as I was nearly finished packing, I heard a sound from the foyer. Julian was back. Seeing the box full of items, his heart tightened. He rushed over. “Mia, what are you doing?”
I kept my head down, not even lifting my eyelids. “Iris is moving in, isn’t she? I’m just tidying my things so she doesn’t get upset seeing them.” Julian grabbed my wrist, pulling me into his arms with the momentum. “Are you still mad at me?” “No.” “Mia, you’re really bad at lying.” Julian cupped my chin and lifted it, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I’ve told you many times, I’m just playing along with her act. If I truly wanted to marry her, I would have dragged her back four years ago.” I looked into his eyes and suddenly laughed. “Julian,” my voice was soft, but every word was clear, “You know best who you truly want to marry.” Before I finished speaking, my phone suddenly rang, drowning out my voice. Julian glanced at the caller ID and quickly answered. After a few brief words, he simply said, “Something came up at the office,” and quickly left. Watching the man’s retreating back, I suddenly felt whether or not to confront him no longer mattered. After all, some feelings are like expired candy. They might look fine on the surface, but they’ve already gone bad. Even if you force yourself to swallow them, you’ll only be left with a mouthful of bitterness. Not long after Julian left, I received a SnapChat message from Iris. In the photo, Julian was on one knee, his distinctly jointed hands cradling Iris’s ankle, intently tying a red string around it. I suddenly remembered the time I dragged Julian to a local fair. I spent ages picking out a lucky red string from a stall, only to turn around and see Julian standing three feet away, impatiently checking his watch: “You actually believe in these superstitious things?” As I pondered, Iris’s message came through. 【I just casually mentioned I wasn’t feeling well, and Julian immediately went to the temple to get the most potent lucky red string for me.】 【Has he ever done that for you?】 【Mia, wake up. Julian has never loved you.】 I gripped my phone tightly, the cold screen light reflecting on my face, freezing the last bit of warmth in my eyes. Yes. Julian had never loved me. And from now on, I wouldn’t crave his love anymore. … Julian didn’t come home for the next two days. It wasn’t until the third day that I saw him at Iris’s farewell ceremony. He wore a tailored black suit, pushing a wheelchair through the crowd. Iris sat in the wheelchair, a blanket covering her legs, like a fragile flower. I just tilted my head slightly, and Julian immediately bent down, asking if I was uncomfortable. A mocking smile played on my lips. He kept saying he was just playing along with Iris’s act. But the way he looked at me was just as tender as it had been four years ago. Soon, the farewell ceremony officially began. My father announced Iris’s condition to everyone, his eyes welling up with tears: “My daughter is both unfortunate and fortunate. Although her life is short, she has a loving family and a devoted partner who never leaves her side…” The large screen lit up, showing photos of Iris from childhood to adulthood, one by one. Her first birthday, surrounded by her parents, doing the ‘Zhua Zhou’ (a traditional Chinese ritual, but could be adapted to just “first birthday celebration”). Her father teaching her to play piano, hand-in-hand, when she was ten. Her whole family embracing happily at her high school graduation at eighteen. In every frame, I was like a blurred backdrop, silently witnessing the happiness that didn’t belong to me. The scene shifted, and the person beside Iris was Julian. He celebrated her competition wins with bouquets of flowers. He quietly posed as her model when she painted. They embraced deeply at her wedding… From his youthful school uniform to his sharp business suit, years passed, yet the deep affection in his eyes remained constant. Just as everyone was immersed in emotion, the photos on the screen suddenly vanished, replaced by blood-red letters on a black background! 【Iris Thompson, a b*tch like you deserves to go to hell!】 【You stole my husband, just like your mother, both of you are whore*s who steal men!】 【I curse you to be ground to dust after death, never to be reincarnated!】 The air in the room froze for a few seconds. Then, a commotion erupted!
Everyone implicitly looked at me. I stood frozen, not yet understanding what had happened, when a startled cry came from my stepmother in the distance. “Iris!” Iris had fainted, terrified by the curse. Julian’s face changed drastically. He bent down, scooped Iris into his arms, and strode towards the first aid room. My mind was blank until a resounding slap landed on my face, jolting me back to reality. “How could I have given birth to such a monster!” My father’s eyes were red with fury, veins throbbing on his forehead. “Your sister is already so sick, and you dare to curse her?!” I staggered back half a step, accidentally knocking over a champagne tower, scattering wine everywhere. I collapsed amidst the shattered glass, explaining through the sharp pain: “It wasn’t me!” “Shut up!” My father roared, cutting me off. “I saw through you long ago; you just can’t stand us treating your sister well. But she’s already a dying woman, do you have no sympathy at all?” “Someone, lock this ungrateful wretch up!” … I was thrown into a small, dark storage room. I’ve been afraid of the dark since I was a child and also suffer from claustrophobia. The moment the door closed, my breath hitched. Darkness surged from all directions like a tide. I desperately pounded on the door, my bloodied hands leaving glaring marks on the wooden panel: “Open the door! Please, let me out!” However, outside was dead silent. I gradually lost strength, sliding to the floor, my breathing becoming more and more rapid, my vision starting to blacken. I don’t know how long passed. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, the door finally opened. I quickly scrambled out. **截断点** But the next second— “Splash!” A basin of thick, foul-smelling liquid was poured over my head! Then came the second basin, the third… I choked, almost suffocating. Through my blurry vision, I vaguely saw a familiar figure standing at the doorway. It was Julian. The man stood at the boundary of light and shadow, coldly watching his subordinates pour basin after basin of the liquid over me, never telling them to stop. Until the last basin of liquid was emptied. Julian slowly walked towards me, leaned down, and wiped my cheek with a silk handkerchief, his tone as cold as ice. “Iris is awake. She didn’t blame you for cursing her; instead, she even pleaded for you, saying you were just under a dark influence, not truly malicious.” “These foul-smelling liquids, I had my people prepare them to drive away evil,” he paused. “But for them to work, you need to soak in here for three days and three nights.” A trace of terror flashed in my eyes. I struggled to grab Julian’s hand. “Those curses really weren’t from me, please believe me…” “Mia,” Julian pried my fingers open one by one, his actions slow and cruel. “It’s a lesson even a three-year-old knows: you must accept punishment for your mistakes.” Feeling the warmth disappear from my fingertips, I opened my mouth, my last struggle turning into a humble plea. “Please, don’t leave me here, I’m afraid of the dark…” “What about Iris?” Julian’s gaze was cold and clear. “When you cursed her, did you ever consider that she might be afraid too?” I felt a pang of disorientation. I remembered a stormy night once, when the power went out at home, and I huddled in a corner, trembling. It was Julian who lit the room with candles, holding me tightly in his arms, his warm palm stroking my back: “Don’t be afraid, Mia, I’m here.” And now, the same man was pushing me into the abyss of darkness with his own hands. Suddenly, a tearing, agonizing pain erupted from my abdomen. I instinctively clutched my stomach, feeling warm liquid gush out from below. Realizing I might be having a miscarriage, I trembled as I grabbed Julian’s pant leg, my voice distorted. “Julian, my stomach hurts so badly, it feels like a miscarriage. Please, take me to the hospital…” Julian froze, frowning slightly: “You’re not even pregnant. How could you have a miscarriage?” The pain made my vision blacken. “It’s true, I’m pregnant with your…” “Enough.” Julian clearly didn’t believe my words, dropping a “I’ll pick you up in three days,” before turning to leave. A small, animalistic whimper escaped my throat. My fingers desperately dug into the ground, but I still couldn’t hold onto the man’s receding back. My spasming fingers futilely grasped at the air, eventually falling limp. I lay collapsed in a pool of blood. Before consciousness faded, a desolate laugh played on my lips. Julian… This time, I truly see you for who you are.
When I next awoke, I was lying in a hospital bed. “You’re finally awake.” The doctor sighed, her gaze full of pity. “You suffered a severe hemorrhage from the miscarriage. If you had been a few minutes later, no one could have saved you.” I learned from the doctor that I had been found unconscious by one of the house staff bringing food the next day, barely clinging to life. “Your family is absolutely out of line. How could they treat you like that? Especially your husband – he refused to answer his phone. When he gets here, I’m going to have a serious talk with him.” “Doctor,” I interrupted her, my fingers clutching the bedsheet. “Don’t tell him about the pregnancy.” He wouldn’t believe me anyway. Besides, Julian’s heart wasn’t with me anymore, and I didn’t want any more ties to him. The doctor hesitated, then finally shook her head and left. Throughout my hospital stay, Julian never showed his face. However, on Iris Thompson’s Ins stories, he was everywhere. The first day, a close-up of a bowl of chicken soup, with the caption: 【It’s been ten years, and it’s still my favorite taste.】 The second day, a photo of a man sleeping beside her bed, with the caption: 【Had nightmares again last night. Thankfully, I open my eyes and see you.】 I suddenly remembered that when *I* was sick, Julian always made chicken soup for me too. When I had a fever and was feeling unwell, he would also stay by my bedside, clutching my hand tightly, never letting go. Only now did I understand. That tenderness was never truly for me. He was merely loving someone else through me. On the day I was discharged, Julian finally called. “Something came up at the office. I’ve sent the driver to pick you up.” I asked no questions, made no hysterics, just a quiet, “Okay.” The moment the call ended, I gently stroked my flat stomach. Julian Hayes was now just a name in my contacts, about to be deleted. I no longer held any expectations for him. … I arrived home. The moment I stepped inside, I saw Iris with a drawing board, freely painting all over the living room wall. My wedding photos with Julian, our photo booth strips, were all thrown on the floor, smeared with colorful paints. Seeing me, Iris smiled, “Mia’s back?” “I thought this wall was too messy, so I decided to redecorate. You don’t mind, do you?” I scanned the chaotic mess, then simply said, “Whatever.” This home was already dead to me. From now on, I wouldn’t be the mistress of this house. Just then, Julian walked out of the kitchen, carrying a plate of sliced fruit. Seeing me about to go upstairs, he blocked my way. “Iris is trying to mend things, and this is your attitude?”
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