I took care of Peter Quinn for five years, helping him climb back from rock bottom to the top. He once promised to marry me. But on his birthday, his ex-girlfriend Chloe Mitchell stood outside the hotel in the rain, begging for his forgiveness. Peter, usually so cold and distant, turned red-eyed and pulled her into his arms in front of everyone. At the celebration dinner, he had Chloe replace me to give the speech on stage. I heard him sneer to his friend: “Lydia’s nice enough, but she’ll never be presentable.” In that moment, I suddenly felt exhausted. Later, Peter said he’d realized that Chloe was the one he truly loved. He gave me a sum of money and a plane ticket, asking me to let him go and leave the city. I nodded and agreed. Not long after, the news reported a plane crash. Someone said that Peter was in the middle of his wedding when he suddenly broke down crying. Running into Peter’s celebration party was pure coincidence. My friend was having a birthday dinner at the restaurant and invited me. I arrived a bit late due to traffic. While looking for the private dining room, I suddenly heard enthusiastic applause. Then I heard a familiar voice: “Thank you all for coming to Peter’s celebration party. His art exhibition was very successful, but it took five years of hard work behind the scenes. I’ve been with him these five years, watching him step by step come back from the depths. I know how difficult it’s been for him…” The woman’s voice was gentle, with a hint of tears. I followed the sound, but was stopped by staff at the entrance. “Miss, please show your invitation.” Only then did I notice the sign by the door: Peter Quinn Art Exhibition Celebration Dinner. Peter was throwing a celebration for his exhibition, but why hadn’t he told me? And how could Chloe claim she’d been with Peter these five years? It was me. I told the staff member: “I’m his girlfriend. Can’t I go in?” “Girlfriend?” The staff member looked me up and down, then glanced at Chloe on stage, barely suppressing a laugh. “Miss, please don’t joke around.” Just then, Peter suddenly got up from his seat and walked toward the entrance. I excitedly waved at him, but he kept looking back at Chloe with tender eyes, completely oblivious to me. He reached the doorway and lit a cigarette. I heard his friend Joe ask him: “Peter, are you really not going to tell Lydia about this?” Peter’s tone was cold: “She didn’t even finish college. She’d be intimidated in this kind of setting.” Joe sighed: “Lydia’s a good person. At least invite her to dinner.” Peter paused, then scoffed: “She’s nice enough, but she’s just not presentable.” “True, when it comes to marriage, you need someone like Chloe—beautiful and able to handle these occasions,” Joe said. The staff member gestured at me: “Miss, should I go confirm for you?” I don’t know why, but my heart suddenly felt heavy with disappointment. I waved my hand dismissively, and the staff member’s expression showed both pity and disdain. The first time I met Peter was when I worked as a maid in his house. I was still in college then, unable to pay tuition. I saw online that his parents were hiring a live-in housekeeper for twenty thousand dollars a month. I figured working one summer could cover a year’s tuition, so I applied. Getting hired was easy; staying was hard. I heard that before me, Peter had already driven away eight maids. Peter came from a wealthy family and had been an artist. But after his car accident, his hands were disabled and his leg was broken. The doctors said recovery was possible, but only possible. A year had passed, and he was still in a wheelchair, becoming increasingly despondent. At first, he treated me like all the others—critical, sarcastic, impossible to please… “You walk like a turtle. It’s disgusting.” “Your cooking tastes like garbage.” “When you smile, you look like a frog.” There were many more comments like these. I didn’t care at all. Having grown up poor, I’d endured far worse hardships—this was nothing. Day after day, I accompanied Peter through his rehabilitation exercises and told him interesting stories from the outside world. Finally, Peter was willing to leave the house.
I went to the restroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My somewhat unsophisticated appearance from years ago had transformed through years of artistic influence into something charming and lovely. My figure was slender and elegant, looking refined and graceful. Was I really as inadequate as Peter claimed? While I was lost in thought, someone entered the restroom—it was Chloe. She looked surprised, then intimately took my hand. “Lydia, how did you get here? Didn’t Peter not invite you?” After saying this, she covered her mouth as if she’d let something slip, then frantically explained, “Don’t misunderstand—Peter and I have nothing going on. He just didn’t want you to feel embarrassed…” Her beautiful face was full of concern, but I could see malice in her eyes. After Peter’s car accident, she broke up with him. I remember the first time I met Chloe—it was summer. I was pushing Peter out to see a movie when we encountered a couple on the street. Peter stared at the woman with a complex expression. When she turned around, it was Chloe, looking somewhat awkward. She had abandoned Peter and gotten together with his rival. Back then, Peter hated her. But later, after Peter’s comeback, she begged for his forgiveness in the rain. Peter had said he hated her before, but now his eyes were red with tears. Despite my attempts to dissuade him, he rushed into the rain and embraced her. At this moment, Chloe suddenly laughed softly in front of me. After confirming no one else was in the restroom, she dropped her act and said provocatively, “I really should thank you for staying with him through the hardest times, making it easy for me to reap the benefits. I advise you to quit while you’re ahead—you and he aren’t from the same world. I know your type—once you latch on, you won’t let go. You want to use gratitude to force Peter into marrying you. I despise people like you the most.” I pretended to play with my phone while secretly starting a recording. “What? Cat got your tongue? A sparrow can never become a phoenix. Stop using those tricks you learned from your mother to seduce men—it’s disgusting.” Tricks I learned from my mother? At that moment, my mind exploded like a bomb, blood rushing to my head. Chloe’s mouth kept moving. “Your mother had you with some random man, then sold her body to raise you. You must have learned quite a few skills, right? How do you serve Peter? Tell me.” I could no longer hear clearly what she was saying. I only remember that in the end, Chloe screamed as I grabbed her hair and shoved her head into the sink. The restroom echoed with Chloe’s screams as her makeup and dress were soaked with dirty water, leaving her in a pathetic state. Someone tried to pull me away, but I held her down like a madwoman. Until I heard Peter’s anguished shout: “Chloe!” Before I could react, a slap struck my face. I froze as Peter shoved me aside and pulled Chloe tightly into his arms, holding her like a precious treasure he’d lost and found again. I tumbled to the ground, my right hand scraped and bleeding. In the chaos, he glared at me fiercely: “If anything happens to Chloe, I’ll never forgive you!” “Peter…” I called his name softly, but he only gave me his resolute back as he walked away. Through my tears, I watched his retreating figure, and suddenly my mind flashed to twenty-two-year-old Peter—that young man in a wheelchair with a bright smile. I reached out my hand: “Peter, my hand is hurt too. It really hurts.” The twenty-two-year-old him would have grabbed my hand and immediately called an ambulance. But this was twenty-seven-year-old Peter. Sadness washed over me, and I finally couldn’t hold back—tears streamed down my cheeks.
The crowd dispersed, and Peter carried Chloe into the ambulance. Dragging my injured wrist, I took a cab to the hospital. Unable to attend my friend’s birthday party, I texted an apology. She didn’t blame me and even offered to accompany me to the hospital, but I declined. After getting bandaged up at the hospital, I ran into Peter in the hallway. When he saw me, his usually elegant face was filled with anger. “Lydia, you really have no class. Even if I didn’t invite you, you could have taken your anger out on me. Why did you have to make things difficult for Chloe?” Looking at him, I felt like he was a stranger. Actually, not really a stranger—ever since Chloe came back, he’d been growing more and more impatient with me. I only asked: “Why did you let Chloe say she was the one who stayed with you those five years?” Peter didn’t think it was a big deal. “It was just small talk. Why are you making such a fuss about it? It’s all in the past—why do you still care about what happened before?” Right, he was successful now. Those five years were probably just an embarrassing memory he’d rather forget. Only I remembered my sacrifices during those five years and all the beautiful moments we shared. After being disappointed so many times, in this moment, my heart felt nothing. I pulled out my phone and played a recording. “A sparrow can never become a phoenix no matter how hard it tries. Stop using those tricks you learned from your mother to seduce men—isn’t it disgusting? Your mother had you with some random man, then sold her body to raise you…” Chloe’s sharp, vicious words echoed through the hallway. I said: “You asked why I hit her? This is why.” Peter’s aggressive expression finally showed panic. But it was only for a moment—he immediately sneered, looking at me with mockery. “Was Chloe wrong? Lydia, isn’t that exactly what your background is? Your mother was a prostitute who gave birth to you. Which part wasn’t true?” “Slap!” I slapped Peter across the face. Once, when Peter was at his lowest point, I comforted him, telling him about my shameful background and childhood suffering. Mom had taken the wrong path, but she loved me dearly—though she was already gone. Back then, Peter held me tenderly and said: “Lydia, from now on, I’ll love you the way your mother did.” Back then, he felt sorry for me. Now, these same things had become weapons to hurt me. My freshly bandaged hand started bleeding again. Peter finally noticed, frowning as he tried to grab my hand. “Lydia, what happened to your hand? Let me see.” He looked genuinely worried. I stepped back several paces, gave him one cold look, and walked away. But I didn’t need it anymore. I hadn’t been back to the house Peter and I used to share in a long time. When I went to pack my things, I discovered all my belongings had been replaced. The closet was filled with Chloe’s sexy lingerie, and photos of her and Peter sat on the nightstand. “Lydia, are you here to move out? Your stuff is over there.” Chloe appeared in a sexy nightgown, smiling as she pointed toward the storage room. “I had the maid tidy up last time. A lot of useless things got thrown away, and some junk was put in there.” My clothes were carelessly tossed in a corner. I didn’t care and crouched down to search through them, growing more frantic as I looked. “Are you looking for this? Want it?
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