Everyone knew that the most important thing in Marcus Smith’s life was scientific research. He promised that as soon as he won the Lincoln Research Award, he would marry me immediately. For this, I waited for him ten years. During the day I was his lab assistant, at night his stress-relief bed partner, letting him vent as he pleased. Until I went to the lab to deliver materials to him. I saw him pressing his sponsored poverty scholarship student, Lily Foster, onto the couch, entangled desperately with her. Amid the entanglement, Lily sobbed softly: “Marcus, you’re about to step onto the Lincoln Award podium, and I’m going to lose you.” Marcus’s tone was gentle: “How could that be? You’ll receive the award with me too. I organized Hailey Snow’s data and put your name on it. I want you to stand beside me openly and honorably.” I froze at the doorway, sneering inwardly. I’d like to see how they plagiarize my data when I’m on the awards committee. I was about to leave when suddenly a voice came from the end of the corridor: “Hailey!” It was a new graduate research student from the lab, coming to ask me questions. Hearing the sudden silence from inside the room, I smiled. After answering the student’s questions, I raised my hand and knocked gently on the door. “Come in.” Marcus’s voice was calm as usual. I pushed the door open. He sat in his chair while Lily stood beside him, her cheeks slightly flushed, her lips more vivid than usual. “Hailey.” Marcus looked up tentatively. “When did you get here?” “Just now. A student came to ask me questions.” I answered calmly. Marcus nodded. “Perfect timing. I have an announcement to make. Go call everyone to the conference room.” In the conference room, Marcus spoke eloquently while Lily sat to his left. I sat in the farthest corner, opening my notebook. “…So, for the paper ‘Novel Semiconductor Interface State Regulation,’” he paused, “the first author will be Lily.” Lily covered her mouth, but her eyes were astonishingly bright. “Professor Smith… how can this work? The data was mainly Hailey’s…” “The team needs to focus on cultivating young talent.” Marcus interrupted her, his gaze turning to me. “Your data work is very solid, but Lily needs this paper more to apply for her doctorate. Does anyone object?” Seven or eight people in the lab—no one dared speak. My fingers gripping the edge of my notebook tightened slightly, my knuckles turning white. Then I suddenly stood up. The coffee cup on the table fell and shattered on the floor. “I don’t agree.” Marcus frowned, his tone impatient. “All results in the lab belong to the team. Hailey, your contribution will be reflected in the acknowledgments section.” “Acknowledgments?” I laughed coldly. “Three months, working fourteen hours a day, measuring seven hundred data sets, optimizing five parameter models—and in the end it’s worth just an ‘acknowledgment’?” His face darkened. “Watch your attitude. This is a public setting.” “Public setting?” I looked around. “So you deliberately chose to notify me here? To humiliate me in front of everyone?” Lily timidly interjected: “Hailey, don’t be angry. Professor Smith is just thinking of my future…” “Your future?” I turned to her, enunciating each word. “Building your future with my data?” Marcus strode over and grabbed my wrist. “Don’t make a scene here. We’ll talk about it when we get back.” I shook off his hand. “Let’s be clear right here. Marcus, you promised me this paper was mine. You said it yourself!” A flash of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by anger: “That was on the premise that the data met standards! Your final verification data had too much fluctuation. Lily helped you recalibrate it!” I almost laughed until I cried. The data fluctuation was due to a temporary instrument malfunction. Later I worked all night repeating the experiment three times to get accurate data. Lily timely pulled out her notebook and turned to a certain page. “Hailey, look, this is my calculation draft from that time…” Suddenly, I felt blood rushing to my head. “That’s my calculation method! You just copied it!” “Hailey!” Marcus shouted sternly, then moved close to my ear. “Do you really want to make such a scene? Don’t forget what I have saved on my phone. Do I need to remind you publicly?” My whole body stiffened. Those nights when he coaxed me into taking intimate photos. He said it was for fun, for memories. Turns out he was saving them for this moment. “You…” My voice trembled. A flash of triumph crossed his eyes, his tone softening: “Be good. Give the paper to Lily. There will be better opportunities later, I promise.” Lily also came over. “Hailey, I’m sorry… but my mom really needs money for treatment. This authorship will let me get a scholarship and subsidies…” I looked at her tearful face, then at the threat in Marcus’s eyes. I slowly released my clenched hands and lowered my eyes. “Fine.” Marcus breathed a sigh of relief and patted my shoulder. “That’s more like it.” He turned to face everyone, his tone calm again. “That settles it. Lily, give me the draft by this weekend. Meeting adjourned.” The crowd quickly dispersed. As Lily passed by me, she said very softly, “Thank you, Hailey.” Then she hurried to catch up with Marcus. The empty lab left only me and the mess on the floor. I crouched down and slowly picked up the ceramic cup fragments. A sharp edge cut across my fingertip, and blood immediately welled up. I watched that drop of bright red fall onto the dark blue cover of my lab notebook, slowly spreading. I pressed my entire bloody fingerprint onto the title page. I lifted my head, my face showing only icy calm. The trembling and compromise just now were just a show for them. How ridiculous. After ten years together, Marcus hadn’t noticed at all that what was deeply buried in my eyes wasn’t sadness, but mockery and resolve. I closed the notebook and carefully placed it along with several other key data backups into the inner layer of my backpack. Standing up, I took one last look at Marcus’s tightly closed office door. Light leaked out, casting shadows of two people standing very close together. I lightly curled my lips and turned to leave.
Late night in my apartment, I sat on the floor organizing old boxes. My phone screen lit up abruptly in the dim room. It was a notification for Lily’s social media update. [Grateful for Marcus’s careful guidance. My first first-author paper is about to be submitted!] The attached photo showed Marcus’s profile as he leaned down to explain data to her, his eyes gentle. I turned off my phone and pulled a thick photo album from the bottom of the box. The first photo showed nineteen-year-old me wearing a white lab coat, standing at the lab entrance with a nervous yet excited smile. Next to me was twenty-four-year-old Marcus, his hand casually on my shoulder, full of ambition. He was a third-year graduate student, and I was a freshman “genius newcomer” given special admission to the lab. He said: “Hailey, you’re the most talented student I’ve ever seen. Follow me, and I’ll lead you to work on cutting-edge projects.” I believed him. From then on, my eyes held only him and the lab. I continued flipping through. Many photos. Me in my bachelor’s gown with him waving from the audience. Me operating expensive equipment for the first time with him standing behind me, guiding, his arms almost encircling me. A team outing where he blocked a colleague’s offered drink, saying “She doesn’t drink, I’ll take it”… Every frozen smile now looked like a layer of carefully applied paint, concealing the already rotting wood beneath. Until the last few pages. The photos became fewer. The most recent one was from two years ago, at Marcus’s celebration banquet after winning the Young Scientist Award. He stood under the spotlight holding champagne, giving a speech thanking the team, the university, his parents. That night, he drunkenly held me, his breath hot against my ear: “When I win the Lincoln Award, we’ll get married. I want everyone to know that half my success is yours.” I believed him then. I even felt that all that day-after-day toil, those stolen authorships, those late nights walking home alone—all were necessary thorns on the path to that “future.” How ridiculous. My phone vibrated again. Marcus sent several messages: [I’m not coming back tonight. Lily’s paper has some issues that need handling. Go to bed early.] [My attitude was bad today, but you have to understand—Lily comes from a difficult background. This authorship can change her entire life.] [About the photos—as long as you behave, I won’t let a third person see them. You know what matters most to me.] Looking at his words “behave,” my stomach churned. I got up from the floor and felt under a pile of old sweaters, finding a cold metal square. I pressed play. “I organized Hailey’s data and put your name on it…” “Don’t forget what I have saved on my phone. Do I need to remind you publicly?” “Be good. Give the paper to Lily.” I turned off the voice recorder, gripping it tightly in my hand. The metal edges pressed painfully into my palm, but brought a strange sense of calm. I closed the photo album and opened my computer. A folder labeled “Ten Years” was densely packed with documents: experimental plans, data analysis, paper drafts, project proposals… The author on all of them was Marcus. My name was always in the “Acknowledgments,” or simply absent. I organized evidence until three in the morning. After finishing, I walked into the bathroom, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on my face. Then I lifted my head and, facing the mirror, said very softly: “Marcus, the scientific career you value, the perfect image you’ve carefully cultivated, the Lily you want to treasure in your palm…” “I’ll destroy them all, one by one, with my own hands.”
The next day, I arrived at the lab as usual and proactively approached Lily. “Do you need me to help review the draft?” Her eyes were guarded, but she nodded. “Thanks, Hailey.” I sat beside her and opened her document. The paper was beautifully written. I knew Marcus’s writing style too well—he likely wrote it himself while she took credit. But in the data presentation section, I immediately spotted problems. I pointed at the screen. “This set of data—did you remeasure it?” Her eyes flickered. “Yes… Professor Smith said this better fits the theoretical predictions.” I sneered inwardly. Science isn’t about fitting predictions—it’s about respecting facts. But I nodded. “True, this makes the charts look better.” I enthusiastically helped her adjust the chart formatting, making extremely subtle changes to several key parameter settings. With Lily’s skill level, she couldn’t possibly notice. Instead, she said gratefully: “Hailey, you’re amazing. The charts suddenly look so much more professional.” Marcus came over and glanced at it, nodding. “Good.” He looked at me, his tone softening. “Hailey, about yesterday… my tone was harsh. But you need to understand—Lily comes from a difficult background. This authorship is very important to her.” I smiled. “I understand. Team interests first.” He seemed relieved, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Dinner together tonight? Consider it… compensation.” My body tensed slightly, but I still nodded. “Okay.” He smiled. That smile had once moved my heart for ten years. Now I only found it hypocritical. At the upscale Western restaurant, Marcus reserved a window seat. He unusually gallantly pulled out my chair and ordered dishes I liked. “Remember our first proper dinner together?” He cut his steak. “Same restaurant.” I nodded. Of course I remembered. That day he received his first national-level project and said “we should celebrate.” That night he drank too much, rambled about his ambitions, and finally fell asleep on my shoulder. In the end, I paid the bill. “Ten years went by so fast.” He raised his glass. “Hailey, thank you for accompanying me all these years.” I clinked glasses but didn’t drink. He continued talking to himself: “Once we secure the Lincoln Award this time, we’ll…” He stopped mid-sentence. “Get married?” I finished for him. His eyes flickered. “Yes. So about the paper—don’t dwell on it anymore. After Lily graduates, I’ll arrange better projects for you.” I smiled. “Okay.” He seemed satisfied with my “compliance” and talked more: “Lily is really struggling, you know. Single-parent family, her mother seriously ill, surviving entirely on scholarships…” I listened quietly. He’d said these things before, only the protagonist was me back then. Then he said: “I’ll make you successful.” Now he said: “You need to help Lily.” Such irony.
When dessert arrived, his phone rang. He glanced at it and declined the call. When it rang for the third time, he frowned and answered: “I know… you don’t need to be nervous, all the data is ready…” The voice on the other end was loud—I could hear Lily crying: “Professor Smith, I’m scared… what if the judges ask questions I can’t answer…” He lowered his voice: “Don’t worry. I’ve arranged everything. Get some rest early. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” After hanging up, he explained to me: “Lily’s a bit nervous about tomorrow’s award ceremony.” I said nothing, quietly setting down my spoon. Marcus looked up. “Not eating?” “I’m full.” I pulled out a napkin to wipe my hands. He nodded and waved to call the server for the check. He pulled out his wallet, his movement pausing: “Hailey, could you pay this time? My credit card maxed out this month. I bought Lily a formal outfit.” I looked at him. Ten years ago at our first dinner, I paid. Ten years later at our last dinner, I was still paying. Really hadn’t changed at all. I took out my card. “Fine.” Walking out of the restaurant, the night breeze was cool. He reached to put his arm around my shoulder. I sidestepped. “I need to get up early tomorrow. I’m heading back.” He froze, his hand suspended in mid-air. “You… are you still angry?” “No.” I hailed a taxi. “Just tired.” Before getting in the car, he suddenly called out: “Hailey.” I turned around. Under the streetlight, his face was half-bright, half-dark. “No matter what happens, you know that what’s always been most important to me is research.” I raised an eyebrow. “I know.” So you can sacrifice everything, including me. As the car started moving, in the rearview mirror, he stood in place, his figure growing smaller and smaller. I checked the time. Eleven PM. Ten hours until the conference began. I told the driver: “Take me to the nearest high-end suit custom shop.” “At this hour? Are they still open?” “They will be if I pay enough.” The car turned onto another road. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. Marcus. Lily. I really looked forward to seeing their reactions tomorrow!
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