“Miss Smith, our records show that you are unmarried.” The clerk turned the screen toward me. “The spouse field on Mr. Carter Gordon’s profile is registered to another woman.” I stared at the familiar name on the screen. Mandy Lynn, the secretary he had kept close for two years. Everyone said Carter Gordon loved me to his core. But it turned out the woman he called his “wife” was someone else entirely. And I had spent five years as the punchline of a joke I never knew was being told. I dialed a number. “Help me erase my identity. The sooner, the better.” Since he had given someone else the title, there was no reason for Tara to exist anymore. Tara’s POV In the fifth year of my relationship with Carter Gordon, my visa hit a snag. Several international preschools in New York were organizing a joint six-month exchange program in Canada next month. As the lead teacher on the trip, I had taken a half day off to visit the immigration office and update my documentation. The clerk tapped at her keyboard, frowning slightly, checking the information on her screen several times before finally looking up at me. “Miss Tara Smith, your marital status doesn’t match what you filled in. The system shows you as currently unmarried.” I blinked, then gave a gentle smile. “Could there be a mistake? My husband and I registered here in New York three years ago. We even paid for expedited processing.” The clerk turned the screen toward me and pointed to a line of text. “Our system syncs in real time. It doesn’t make errors. You are registered as unmarried. However, the spouse field on Mr. Gordon’s profile is registered to another woman.” A name was printed clearly on the screen: Mandy Lynn. A sharp ringing filled my ears. The sounds around me fell away, leaving nothing but a high-pitched hum. Mandy Lynn. I knew that name far too well. During the two years I had been in San Francisco completing my early childhood education certification, she had been the secretary Gordon kept at his side. His explanation at the time was that the pressure of work had grown too heavy. He needed a capable assistant to handle the smaller things. That was all. I have no memory of walking out of the immigration office. The early autumn air hit me like a wall of cold. I clutched the rejected paperwork in both hands and sank numbly into the driver’s seat of my car. My phone screen lit up. A message from Gordon popped onto the display. “Sweetie, it’s getting cold in New York today. Make sure you bundle up. I pushed back the afternoon conference call and went to stand in line at that bakery you love. I picked up the chestnut cake. Come home early tonight, okay? I want to spend the evening with you.” I stared at those words until my eyes burned. Not a single tear came. Five years. Gordon’s devotion to me was known all across New York. Once, I said offhand that I loved the ocean. He bought a private island off the coast of Los Angeles and built a lighthouse on it, naming it after me. When I mentioned feeling sorry for the preschool children having to play outside in the cold, he wrote a check for a fully climate-controlled indoor children’s center, built right in the heart of the city where land costs a fortune. I was afraid of the dark, so every night he turned down every invitation and every dinner, staying in to hold my hand and talk me to sleep. Everyone said Gordon loved me down to the bone. But it turned out, buried inside that love was a lie this big. I pulled in a slow breath, forced down the nausea rising in my stomach, and drove back to the house. I pushed open the front door and heard voices in the living room. Gordon and his friend Oliver were talking. “You skipped out of the office again to go buy cake?” Oliver teased. Something envious hid beneath the humor. “Mandy, your whole devoted-husband thing never lets up, does it?” Gordon stretched out on the sofa, legs crossed, voice lazy with amusement. “She deserves to be spoiled. She should always feel like the most treasured person in the world.” “Fair enough.” Oliver dropped the teasing and lowered his voice. “But what are you doing about Mandy? If Tara ever finds out, you know her. She’ll walk.” I stood in the shadow of the doorway and stopped breathing. Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. Gordon turned his lighter over in his fingers. The faint metallic click filled the silence. His voice was perfectly casual. “She’s not going to find out.” “But what if she does?” “Mandy and I have been together two years. She has severe depression. She can’t function without me.” Gordon’s tone was calm in a way that was frightening. “Marrying her is the only security I can give her.” “Tara has all of my love. She has the status, the respect, everything that comes with being with me. Mandy has to stay hidden. I use the marriage to keep her stable. It’s not a big deal.” Oliver let out a long breath. “What you’re doing is dangerous. Who do you actually love?” “Tara, obviously.” No hesitation. “But Mandy… I can’t let go of her either.” I pressed my back against the cold wall. The pain was so sharp it reached into my lungs. He had never wanted to choose. He wanted both. He had used me as the window display, the proof of how deeply he could love, while keeping Mandy tucked away inside his real life. I turned and left the house without making a sound. I didn’t storm inside. I didn’t scream or cry or demand answers. The pain was so absolute it had turned my mind perfectly clear. If he was so certain I would never find out, then I would make sure he could never find me again. I took out my phone and dialed an encrypted number. “I need to erase my identity. As quickly as possible.”

Tara’s POV Erasing my identity would take two weeks. I sat in the car for a long time, waiting until the feeling inside me had gone completely quiet. Then I walked back through the front door of the house. Gordon was in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist, moving between the counter and the stove. He heard me come in and carried out the tray of chestnut cake he had just pulled from the oven. His eyes were warm enough to drown in. “You’re back. Go wash your hands. Come try this. I learned a new recipe.” I looked at his face. That handsome, familiar face. It felt absurd now. I forced the nausea back down and kept my voice flat. “I’m exhausted from work today. I’m not hungry.” Gordon stepped forward and pulled me into him, resting his chin at the curve of my neck. “What’s going on? Did the kids at school give you a hard time again? I’ll have my assistant send over some new toys tomorrow to cheer them up.” He always knew exactly how to take care of me. If I hadn’t heard those words with my own ears, I would have gone on believing I was the luckiest woman alive. “Don’t bother.” I pulled away, my voice distant. He blinked and started to say something. Then his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen. Something shifted in his expression. He picked up the call quickly. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up and looked at me with an apologetic expression. “Sweetie, something’s come up at work. I have to handle it. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Eat something.” I watched his back disappear through the door. I picked up my keys and followed him. His car didn’t go to the office. It stopped in front of one of the most exclusive private residences in the city. I followed him all the way to the top floor. Through the gap in the barely-closed door came the muffled sound of a woman crying. “Gordon, I’m so scared. Every time I close my eyes, I feel like you’re going to leave me.” Mandy was curled into the corner of the sofa, face pale, fragile. Gordon dropped to one knee in front of her and pulled her tightly against him. His voice carried a patience I had never once heard him offer me. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” “But Tara…” “Don’t bring her up.” He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small velvet box. “Look what I brought you.” Inside the box was a custom star-dial watch. I went cold where I stood outside that door. That watch. I had spent the better part of six months on it. I had drawn the design myself, sourced the craftsman myself, and had it built from scratch as a birthday gift for Gordon next month. A few days ago I had noticed it was gone, and he had told me, soothingly, that one of the housekeeping staff had probably moved it somewhere by mistake. He had taken it to give to another woman. “It’s so beautiful…” Mandy’s tears dissolved into a smile. “Is this for me?” “Of course.” He fastened it around her wrist himself. “As long as you sleep well tonight, you can have anything you want.” I turned and walked away. Moving through the noise of the street outside, all I felt was a hollow kind of absurdity. Everything I had once guarded as precious, he had handed over as a prop to soothe someone else. At ten o’clock that night, Gordon sent a message. “Working through the night at the office. Get some rest. Good night.” I read it, turned the phone off, and dropped it in the drawer. The days that followed, I went to work as usual. I poured everything I had into the children. Looking at their open, uncomplicated faces was the only thing that made the dull ache in my chest go quiet for a little while. On the weekend, Gordon surprised me with a gesture meant to make up for lost time. He rented out the city’s most prominent arts center and threw a lavish gallery exhibition filled entirely with my casual sketches and doodles. “He really is something else, treating his wife’s little drawings like fine art.” “That’s real love. Everyone in this city knows how much he adores her.” I stood among the murmuring guests, champagne glass in hand, smiling at nothing. Then a familiar figure crossed the entrance of the gallery. Mandy had arrived in a couture gown, moving between the guests with easy confidence in her official capacity as director of the exhibition. I set my glass down and headed toward the restroom. I had just rounded the corner when I heard voices drifting through the gap in the door of a side room.

Tara’s POV “You look stunning tonight.” Gordon’s voice was low, rough, stripped of any pretense. “Stop it. There are people right outside.” Mandy laughed and pushed him back. “What if Tara sees us?” “So what if she does?” He let out a quiet laugh and pressed her against the door. “She’s just a sweet little preschool teacher. What does she know about any of this? This whole gallery night is just a toy to keep her happy. You’re the one who stands beside me when it actually counts.” The sound of fabric shifting in the silence of the corridor felt unbearably loud. I stood outside that door, my nails cutting into my palms, leaving marks in the skin. A sweet little preschool teacher. So that was all I was to him. My work, the things I loved, the person I was. Nothing more than a pet he kept around for amusement. I breathed in slowly, turned away from the door, and walked back into the gallery. The closing event of the evening was a charity auction. The final item was a painting called Starry Night, made by one of my students, a little boy on the autism spectrum. He had worked on it for a full month. I had been planning to buy it myself and give it back to him as a gift, a way of telling him how proud I was. Opening bid: a hundred thousand dollars. I raised my paddle. “Five hundred thousand.” The moment the words left my mouth, a clear voice rang out from the front row. “One million.” I turned. The paddle belonged to Mandy. She looked back at me over her shoulder, a small, deliberate smile on her face. I kept my expression neutral and raised my paddle again. “Two million.” “Three million.” Mandy didn’t flinch. The room had begun to murmur. The atmosphere shifted into something uneasy. I was about to raise my paddle again when a warm hand closed around my wrist. Gordon had reappeared at my side. He leaned in close and spoke quietly. “Let it go, sweetheart. It’s just a kid’s drawing. It’s not worth this.” I looked at him steadily. “It’s my student’s painting. It means a great deal to me.” I pulled my wrist free and started to lift the paddle. Gordon reached past me and signaled the auctioneer directly. “Three million. Put it on my account.” The room erupted. In front of everyone in attendance, he had outbid his own partner on a painting she wanted, and handed it to another woman. Mandy walked to the stage, accepted the painting, and smiled with complete satisfaction. “Thank you for your generosity. I’ll hang it in my office, a daily reminder of the importance of giving back.” I sat in the audience and watched the two of them on that stage. My stomach turned. Gordon looked back at me. His voice was gentle but carried an edge that left no room for argument. “Mandy’s been running a charity campaign that needed a centerpiece. That painting is perfect for it. If you want something like that, I’ll have the boy paint ten more for you tomorrow.” I looked at the complete reasonableness on his face and let out a small laugh. “Sure.” I didn’t argue. I gave him a quiet smile instead. After the auction ended, Gordon reached for my hand. I moved away before he could take it. “I’m tired. I want to head home.” I walked to my car without looking back. The following morning, the preschool’s official social media account was flooded with hostile comments and coordinated attacks. Mandy had posted a photo of Starry Night on Instagram with the caption: “Sometimes what looks like generosity is really just a performance. Some people will compete with those who are genuinely doing good just to keep up appearances.” The replies were vicious, calling me manipulative, a bully hiding behind a charitable image. Some users had dug up the school’s address and were threatening to show up in person. Our director was beside herself, begging me to find a way to make it stop. I called Gordon. “Have you seen what’s happening online?” I asked, keeping my voice level. He sounded drained on the other end. “Tara, she just posted something on a whim. She wasn’t targeting you. People are reading too much into it.” “So what do you think I should do?” “Post a statement on the school account. Apologize. Say it was a misunderstanding at the auction. I’ll get the content taken down.” The anger that hit me was almost funny. “You want me to apologize?”

Tara’s POV “Tara, don’t be difficult.” His tone shifted, taking on that particular weight he used when he expected compliance. “The story is spreading fast. If you don’t get ahead of it now, the school is going to take real damage. I’ve already talked to Mandy. She’s deleted the post. All you have to do is take the high road, and this goes away.” He made it sound so simple. To protect whatever was left of Mandy’s feelings, he was asking the person who had been wronged to bow her head to the person who had done the wronging. My knuckles went white around the phone, but my voice stayed even. “And if I don’t?” “Tara.” He exhaled, and something cold threaded through his words. “The fire safety inspections at the school have been non-compliant for a while now. I’d hate to see the place get shut down over it.” My breath stopped. He was threatening me. Using the school I had put everything into. Using children who had done nothing wrong. Using them to force me to surrender. “You’re disgusting,” I said. Then I hung up. Thirty minutes later, fire inspectors arrived at the school. They cited ongoing safety violations and issued a mandatory three-day closure notice. I stood in the doorway and watched the children leave in their backpacks, their parents collecting them with expressions ranging from confused to outraged. My chest felt like something inside it was being cut apart. I stood alone in the empty classroom, looking at the drawings the children had taped to the walls, all those small, joyful faces, and made the call. “I’ll apologize.” That afternoon, I posted a statement on the school’s account. I acknowledged that my emotions had gotten the better of me at the auction and expressed regret for any distress I had caused Ms. Lynn. The backlash dissolved almost immediately. That evening, Gordon came home. He walked in carrying a glossy shopping bag, stopped in front of me, and spoke in the soothing voice he used when he thought he was fixing things. “You had a rough day. This is for you, the pink diamond necklace you mentioned a while back. I had it flown in from overseas.” I looked at the necklace glittering against the velvet. I didn’t even blink. “Just set it down.” Gordon frowned slightly. He could feel the distance in me. He pulled me into his arms with careful patience. “Still upset? I was protecting you and the school. I’ve already made it very clear to Mandy that this kind of thing is not acceptable. She won’t cause trouble for you again.” I let him hold me. My body was rigid as a plank of wood. “Gordon,” I said quietly. “Do you love me?” He pressed his lips to my forehead without a moment’s hesitation. “Of course I do. You’re the only one.” I closed my eyes to hide what was behind them. The only one. He loved me so completely that he had built our entire relationship on a lie. He had taken what I made with my own hands and used it to comfort another woman. He had leveraged the thing I cared most about to make me swallow every humiliation without a word. His love was cheap and terrifying in equal measure. A few days later, Mandy hosted a private party on her yacht and invited a large portion of New York’s social circle. I had no interest in going, but Gordon insisted, claiming the sea air would do me good. On the deck, Mandy was at the center of everything in a white bikini, surrounded by guests. When she spotted me, she drifted over with a glass of champagne, her smile perfectly innocent. “Tara, I feel terrible about everything that happened. Let’s drink to a fresh start.” I met her gaze without warmth. “I’ll pass. I have a sensitivity to alcohol.” Mandy’s smile flickered. Something calculated moved behind her eyes. Then her ankle gave way. She lurched sideways and went straight over the railing. “Ah!” The scream split the air. Mandy hit the water. The deck erupted into chaos. “Someone’s in the water!” “Tara pushed her. I saw it! I was standing right there!” Mandy’s friend was already pointing at me, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. I hadn’t had time to react before a shape shot past me and went over the side without hesitation. Gordon. He reached Mandy in the water, got his arm under her, and held her up until they were pulled back onto the deck. She was shaking with cold and had both arms locked around his neck. Gordon draped his jacket over her shoulders and turned to look at me. His eyes were ice.

Tara’s POV “Tara, you’ve let me down.” His voice carried over the sound of the wind off the water, stripped of anything warm. I stood where I was. The wind was pulling at my hair. I watched him cradle Mandy with the kind of careful attention he had never once reserved for a moment when I was the one who needed it. The whole scene felt unreal. “I didn’t push her.” I kept my voice level. I wasn’t defending myself. I was simply stating a fact. “With this many witnesses, you’re still going to deny it?” He got to his feet and came toward me, each step deliberate. “I thought you were just being difficult. I never imagined you were actually capable of something like this. Mandy can’t swim. You could have killed her.” The voices of the people around us crested and broke. Every word was another piece of the verdict. I looked at the man who claimed to love me and felt like I was looking at a stranger. He didn’t check the camera footage. He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t give me a single moment to explain. He had already decided. “If you’re so sure I did it, then call the police.” I didn’t look away from him. That caught him off guard. Mandy reached out from where she lay and caught the hem of his pants. “Don’t, Gordon. Please. The last thing you need is your name in the papers over something like this. I’m fine. If it makes Tara feel better, I don’t mind. I can take it.” Those words did exactly what they were designed to do. The way he looked at Mandy then, it was all tenderness. The way he looked back at me, nothing but contempt. “Starting today, you stay home.” His voice was flat and final. “You don’t go anywhere until you’re ready to admit what you did.” I was taken back to the house by his security detail. My phone was confiscated. The internet was cut. The front door was locked from the outside. I had been placed under house arrest. For the next two weeks, Gordon didn’t come back once. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window each day and watched the light change. I felt strangely calm. When hope has been ground down to nothing, what’s left is a kind of stillness. Then, two weeks later, the front door opened. Gordon walked in. Mandy was with him. Color had returned to her face. She was even more beautiful than before. She came in on Gordon’s arm, scanning the rooms with the ease of someone deciding what renovations to make. “I don’t really like the way this place is decorated,” Mandy said, her voice soft with complaint. “It’s not really my style.” Gordon flicked her nose affectionately. “I’ll have someone redo it however you like tomorrow.” I sat on the sofa and watched the two of them without expression. Gordon crossed the room and stood over me. “Have you had time to think about what you did?” I looked up. “What exactly did I do?” “Apologize to Mandy.” There was no flexibility in his tone. “Do that, and I’ll forgive you. We can go back to how things were.” I almost laughed. The tears nearly came with it. He had locked me in this house for two weeks. He had walked in with another woman as though this were already her home. And now he was standing there, offering to forgive me. “Gordon,” I said, “do you actually believe I can’t survive without you?” He frowned. “Can you stop acting like a child? Mandy still isn’t fully recovered. Her doctor said she needs rest. She’ll be staying here for a while, and you’ll be looking after her. Think of it as making things right.”

Tara’s POV He wanted his wife to wait on his mistress. He said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. I stood up slowly. “Okay.” My voice was quiet. Gordon exhaled. He probably took it as surrender. For the next few days, I played the part. I cooked three meals a day on schedule. I kept the house running without complaint. Mandy found every opportunity to make it harder. “This soup is over-seasoned. Did you do that on purpose?” “These shirts aren’t properly ironed. Can you not manage even the simplest things?” Every time Mandy found fault, Gordon turned it back on me without hesitation. I didn’t argue. I just redid whatever needed redoing and said nothing. Because I was almost out of time. The progress on my identity erasure had reached ninety-nine percent. Three days left. That night, a heavy rain moved in over the city. Mandy was watching television in the living room when she suddenly clutched her chest and cried out. “Gordon, I can’t breathe. It hurts.” Gordon came running out of the study, face drained of color. He scooped her up. “Hang on. I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” He moved fast toward the door. As he passed me, he threw back one cold sentence. “If anything happens to her, you’ll answer for it.” The door slammed. The house went silent. I stood there and listened to the rain, and let the corner of my mouth curl. Gordon didn’t come home the next day. Or the day after. Then Oliver called. “Tara, get to St. John’s Hospital. Gordon ran a red light picking up Mandy’s prescription. He’s in emergency now.” I held the phone and said nothing for a long moment. “He’s not going to die.” My voice was the same tone I would use to comment on the weather. Oliver went silent. Then he came back sharp with anger. “Are you serious right now? He has always been there for you. He is in the ER and that’s what you have to say?” “Really?” I let out a quiet sound. “Whose name is in that spouse field again?” The line went dead. I hung up. I walked to the bedroom and pulled out a small overnight bag from the closet. Inside were a few changes of clothes, my passport, and my visa. Everything Gordon had ever given me, the jewelry, the designer bags, the couture, I left it all where it sat. I went to the vanity and pulled open the top drawer. Inside was the marriage certificate I had kept for three years, folded carefully, as if it had ever meant anything. I found a pair of scissors and cut it in half. One half I left on the vanity. The other half went into the trash. I took out my phone, opened the browser, and went to the identity erasure portal. I pressed the button. Confirmed. Your identity has been successfully deleted. When those words appeared on the screen, I breathed out, slowly and completely, for the first time in what felt like years. From this moment on, Tara no longer existed anywhere in this world. I picked up my bag, walked to the front door, and stopped. The rain had stopped while I wasn’t paying attention. The air outside carried the smell of wet earth and something clean. I looked back one last time at the place that had held me captive for five years. I felt nothing. I pushed the door open and walked out.

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Ethan forgot our wedding anniversary for the fifth time. At two in the morning, he pushed open the door. He reeked of alcohol and someone else’s perfume, his voice buzzing with excitement. “Sophia’s getting divorced! This is my chance!” I stood there, the wound on my left shoulder still throbbing quietly where the sixteen stitches held it together. I had taken that knife for him three days ago. He still didn’t know. “Ethan,” I said softly, “let’s get divorced.” He paused, then laughed. “Sure! Even after the divorce, you’ll still be my best friend. Oh, and come help me pick out an engagement ring tomorrow. Your fingers are about the same size as hers. Try it on for me.” I stared at that completely unbothered face of his and suddenly felt that these twenty-two years of loving him in silence had been nothing but a joke I had played on myself. I slipped the plain silver band off my finger and set it on the table. That ring had cost me next to nothing. I had worn it for five years. Now, at last, it didn’t have to lie for anyone anymore.

Jamie’s POV Two in the morning. Ethan pushed open the door. I was sitting beside the floor lamp in the living room, a book open on my lap, no pages turned. Today was the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Ethan Foster. It was also the fifth year he had completely forgotten. Ethan smelled of alcohol. When his beautiful eyes landed on me, they curved into a smile. “Jamie! I knew you’d still be up.” He walked over, looped his long arm around my neck, and half-collapsed against me, bringing with him a cloud of sweet, unmistakably feminine perfume. “Come on, make me some honey water. My head’s killing me.” My heart ached so badly I could barely breathe, but I just pushed him off with a tired look. “Ethan, you’re almost thirty, not three. Would it kill you to drink less?” “I was celebrating.” Ethan threw himself onto the couch, his long legs propped up on the coffee table without a care in the world, his grin bright enough to hurt. “Jamie, she’s back.” My hand stilled on the glass I was pouring. I didn’t need to ask who she was. There was only one person who could make Ethan Foster look that stupidly, helplessly happy. Sophia Whitfield. “Congratulations.” I kept my back to him, my voice frighteningly calm. Ethan took a few gulps of the honey water and grabbed my wrist, buzzing with excitement. “She’s divorced. Her ex treated her badly. She’s been through so much. Jamie, this is my chance!” I looked at this man I had loved for twenty-two years straight. From the time I was five until now, at twenty-seven, I had grown up alongside Ethan. I had stood by him through fights, skipped class with him, and watched him chase after Sophia. And when he blew up his relationship with his entire family over her and hit rock bottom, I had stayed. Right there beside him. His family, desperate to make him move on, started looking for a suitable match for him within their circle. Ethan decided it didn’t matter who he married. He even told his father: “As long as it’s not Sophia, it’s all the same to me.” I was the one who stepped forward. I said, “If it’s all the same to you, then marry me, Ethan. A fake marriage. When you’re free of your family, or when she comes back, I’ll give you a divorce whenever you want.” Back then, Ethan had held me and sobbed. “Jamie, you’re the best person in my whole life. I promise you, you’ll always have a place in this family. Nobody will ever make you feel like you don’t belong.” He kept that promise. For five years, he gave me every privilege and protection. He trusted me more than anyone. The safe combination, the company’s most sensitive secrets, even his personal seal. He held nothing back. He was good to me, except for one thing. He didn’t love me. “Since she’s back, let’s get divorced.” Ethan blinked. “Already?” “She’s back. It’s time for me to step aside.” I stood up, my downcast lashes hiding everything behind my eyes. “I’ll contact a lawyer and have the divorce papers drawn up as soon as possible. I’ll pack my things and be out of here quickly.” Ethan studied my unnervingly calm expression and hesitated. “Jamie, I’m not going to shortchange you on the settlement. The penthouse in Manhattan, plus one percent of Foster Group’s shares.” One percent of Foster Group. Worth hundreds of millions. He was, as always, generous. “And don’t move too far after the divorce. The house in Beverly Hills is yours too. It’s close by. We’ll still be best friends. Whatever you need, just say the word. I promised I’d look out for you for the rest of your life.” I looked down at the plain silver band on my ring finger. We’d bought it at a roadside jewelry stand on the day we filed the paperwork. Ethan had tossed it to me casually and said, “If we’re going to put on a show, we need the right props. Just wear it.” That cheap silver ring, I had worn it for five years without ever taking it off. I had worn it so long it left a faint mark on my finger. Best friends? What I felt for him had never been friendship. I slowly slid the ring off and set it on the table. It made a small, quiet sound. “You don’t have to do that.” My voice came out a little rough. “Ethan, I just want you to be happy.” “What’s with the formality?” Ethan frowned. “You’ll need money when you get married someday…” He suddenly laughed, like he’d just thought of something funny. “Actually, I almost forget sometimes that you’re a woman. God help whoever falls for you.” Something rose in my throat, sharp and metallic. I forced it back down. “Ethan.” I called his full name, my eyes stinging just slightly. “Yeah?” He was already looking down at his phone, texting Sophia, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, not even glancing up. “…I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” The words I have loved you for twenty-two years rotted silently in my chest. “Wait, Jamie.” I stopped. And somewhere deep and humiliating, a tiny flicker of hope lit up. Had he remembered? That today was our anniversary? That I had spent five years never leaving his side? “There’s a charity gala tomorrow night. Come with me.”

Jamie’s POV “I’m not going.” If we were getting divorced, I had no business showing up at public events anymore. I wasn’t going to lay the groundwork for Sophia. I wasn’t going to become the laughingstock of the whole city. “You have to.” Ethan dropped the warmth from his voice, his expression matter-of-fact. “Sophia just got back. Her situation is delicate. If you’re there, nobody will dare say anything.” “You need to show up as my wife and make it clear she’s welcome. That way, when we get together, there’ll be less pushback.” He wanted me to appear as his wife. To publicly embrace his first love. To personally pave the road for their true romance. How could a person be this cruel without even knowing it? And yet Ethan looked completely at ease, as if his request was perfectly reasonable. “Does it really have to be this way?” I looked up at him. My eyes were threaded with red. Ethan paused. He seemed caught off guard by how worn out I looked, though he chalked it up to work stress. He softened his tone and slipped into the easy, coaxing voice he always used when he wanted something. “Jamie, please. Just this once, the last time. You know Sophia. She’s sensitive. The smallest thing can hurt her.” “Do this one last thing for me. Okay?” Okay? For twenty-two years, every time he asked me something that way, I had never once said no. I closed my eyes. Swallowed the bitterness. “Fine. The last time.” Ethan exhaled like a weight had lifted. “Thanks, Jamie. Having you in my life is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He hummed cheerfully to himself as he headed upstairs. I stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the abandoned ring on the table. It seemed to stare back, coldly mocking five years of everything I had felt. That night, I dreamed. There was no Sophia in the dream. Just sophomore year of college. Ethan had twisted his ankle during a basketball game, and I had carried him on my back for nearly two miles in the midday heat to get to the campus health center. Sweat ran down my neck and soaked into my collar. Ethan lay sprawled across my back, talking the whole way. In the dream, he asked: “Jamie, am I too heavy?” Dream-me said nothing. Just clenched my jaw and kept walking, one step at a time. The charity gala was spectacular. I wore a black velvet blazer. When I walked in on Ethan’s arm, flashbulbs erupted around us. “Mr. and Mrs. Foster are such a perfect couple, still so devoted after all these years.” “Absolutely. Jamie has been the backbone of Foster Group. So much of what the company has achieved is because of her.” Compliments closed in from all sides. Ethan smiled his polished public smile and leaned down to murmur in my ear. “See? Everyone says we’re perfect together. I keep telling you, I can’t do any of this without you.” I said nothing. My gaze drifted through the crowd and settled on a figure tucked into the far corner of the ballroom. Sophia Whitfield stood in a white chiffon gown, her hair loose over her shoulders, like a small, trembling flower. The moment Ethan’s eyes found her, nothing else existed. He steered me toward her without hesitation. “Ethan…” Sophia looked up at him, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Don’t cry. I’m here.” He reached for her, and I blocked him, smoothly, almost invisibly. “Ethan. Not here.” My voice was quiet and precise. He stiffened slightly, then recovered. “Sophia, you remember Jamie. You used to be terrified of her when we were kids.” Sophia shrank a little behind him. “Hi, Jamie. Thank you for taking care of Ethan all these years.” “No need to thank me. It was mutually beneficial.” My tone was flat. A cluster of men drifted over with their drinks, led by a man named Derek. His gaze slid over Sophia with barely concealed interest before landing on me with a smirk. “Jamie! Love the suit. Didn’t know Ethan brought a bodyguard tonight.” Laughter rippled through the group. Ethan’s jaw tightened for a fraction of a second, then he punched Derek in the arm with a grin. “Knock it off. Don’t give her a hard time. Jamie’s got more presence in her little finger than any of you clowns.” It was the kind of defense that sounded more like a joke between friends. It dressed me in armor and, in the same breath, stripped away everything soft about me. Derek dropped his voice, leering at Ethan. “Come on, man, it’s gotta be rough, right? A woman should be soft, like Sophia. Something you can actually hold. Jamie’s all sharp edges. You afraid she’ll poke you?” The words were designed to humiliate. I tightened my grip on my glass and watched Ethan. Waiting. I was his wife. Whatever our marriage was in private, in public he was supposed to protect my dignity. That was the bare minimum. Ethan glanced at me. My face was unreadable, my posture straight. Maybe he was too used to me being “strong.” Maybe he was worried about what Sophia might read into it. Whatever the reason, he just smiled lightly and said: “Alright, enough. Jamie and I aren’t like that. Don’t talk about her that way.” My heart sank all the way to the floor. Then the doors of the ballroom burst open, and a group of masked men stormed in wielding bats and blades.

Jamie’s POV Guests screamed and scattered. Glasses shattered. Tables crashed over. “Where’s Ethan Foster?! Tell him to get out here!” The leader swept the room with wild, violent eyes. These were hired men, brought in by a bankrupt rival of the Foster family to settle the score. Chaos swallowed the room whole. “Ethan!” Sophia crumpled to the floor, shaking. Ethan’s expression shifted. On instinct, he scooped Sophia into his arms and lunged toward the emergency exit. “Jamie! Come on!” He looked back and shouted. And that’s when I saw it. One of the men raised a blade and swung it straight at Ethan’s back. He was holding Sophia. He couldn’t dodge. I didn’t think. Twenty-two years of instinct kicked in. I kicked off my heels, grabbed a solid wooden chair, and in the split second before the blade landed, I swung it as hard as I could into the attacker’s wrist. The crack was loud. The blade bit into a marble column instead. “You want to die?!” The man’s eyes went red. He turned on me. “Go, Ethan, RUN!” I shouted and smashed a wine bottle across another attacker’s head. Ethan looked back. Behind him, I stood like I was holding the line, feet planted, eyes clear. Sophia sobbed into his chest. “Ethan, please, I’m scared. Let’s just go.” “Jamie, hold on! I’ll get her out and come straight back!” He yelled it. Then he turned and ran, Sophia in his arms, and disappeared into the emergency exit without looking back. He left me with the danger. Again. He had always believed, completely and without question, that I was invincible. I watched his retreating back, and a hollow smile crossed my lips. One moment of distraction, and a knife punched deep into my left shoulder from the side. Thud. White-hot pain flooded my body. I grunted, grabbed the attacker’s arm by reflex, and threw him over my shoulder onto the floor. Security finally surged in, swarming the room to get things under control. I pressed my hand to my shoulder. Blood soaked steadily through the black velvet. The dark fabric hid it well. Just a warm, wet patch. I leaned against the wall, my face the color of paper, cold sweat breaking across my forehead. Everyone around me was too busy surviving to notice. Ten minutes later, Ethan came crashing back in with a team of security guards. “Jamie! Jamie!” I forced myself upright. I steadied myself. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I didn’t want him to think I was using an injury to make him feel guilty. That was my last shred of pride. Pathetic as it was. “I’m here.” My voice was thin, but steady. Ethan rushed over. I was standing straight, face pale but otherwise apparently intact. He let out a long breath and punched me in the right shoulder. “God, you scared me! Jamie, that was insane. You were incredible!” The impact jolted through to my left side. The wound tore. I bit down on my lip until it bled, and made no sound. “Is Sophia okay?” I asked. “She’s shaken up pretty bad. She’s crying in the car. She scraped her hand, so I need to get her to the ER.” Ethan was already moving toward the door as he spoke. “You’re good to handle things here, right? Talk to the police when they arrive and deal with the press. We can’t let this tank the stock price. I have to take Sophia. She needs me.” Then he was gone. I stood there, looking at the blood on the floor. My blood. Though Ethan would probably assume it belonged to one of the attackers, if he noticed it at all. A scraped hand. Needs the ER. I looked down at my own soaked side. And for the first time, I felt it, not pain, but the pure, flat absurdity of twenty-two years of this. “Mrs. Foster, you’re bleeding!” A sharp-eyed staff member finally spotted the dark stain spreading across my back. I waved them off and refused a hand. “It’s fine,” I said quietly, staring at nothing. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Jamie’s POV Late at night at a private hospital. When the doctor cut open my clothes, she went quiet. The knife had gone in deep, close enough to the nerve that it had nearly done permanent damage. Worse, because I had waited so long, the wound had bonded with the fabric fibers. Cleaning it out was going to be brutal. “Ms. Shaw, I need to give you a local anesthetic before I suture this.” “Don’t.” I stared up at the surgical light. My voice was weak but absolute. “Just stitch it.” “But…” “I need to feel it.” I needed this pain, clean, physical, undeniable, to finally cut me loose from twenty-two years of something that had always been a dream. The pull of needle and thread through skin was precise and awful. I gripped the edge of the table until my knuckles went white. I bit through my lip. I didn’t shed a single tear. I thought about being five years old, pushed into a cold swimming pool, flailing in the water, certain I was going to die. And him, arriving like the whole sky had opened up, pulling me back from the edge. I thought about being fifteen, kneeling on the hard ground outside because I hadn’t done my stepsister’s homework. My stepmother’s punishment: no dinner, no coming inside. And him, climbing over the wall with a paper bag, pressing a warm macaron into my hands, his voice fierce: “Anyone who touches you, you tell me. I’ll make them sorry.” Those moments of warmth had been the only light in a very bare life. But they had also built the cage. Woven it wire by wire, year by year, until I had walked in willingly and called it love. Now it was time to walk out. The doctor wanted to keep me for observation. I declined, took a car home to the house that technically still had my name attached to it, and let myself in. Every light was on. Ethan was on the couch on a phone call, his voice liquid-soft: “Okay. Don’t be scared, I’ll come over soon. Don’t get the bandage wet, and make sure you use the ointment the doctor gave you… you’re not bothering me. Stop saying that. When have I ever found you annoying?” He looked up when he heard the door. “You’re back.” Casual. His eyes swept over me once. I’d put on a dark coat before leaving the hospital. It covered everything. He noticed nothing. “Yeah.” I slipped off my shoes. Every small movement sent fire shooting across my back. “How’d it go? Did you get the press handled?” He stood up and moved toward me, reaching out to clap me on the shoulder out of habit. I stepped back without thinking. His hand hung in the air. His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong? Are you mad? Are you seriously upset that I left with Sophia?” He looked genuinely baffled. “Jamie, you’re not usually like this. The situation was critical. Sophia has never been through anything like that. She nearly had a panic attack. You’ve handled things like this before. I trusted you to manage it, that’s why I left it with you.” Trust, again. I looked up at him. My eyes were perfectly still, like a lake with no wind. “Ethan. If that blade had hit my head tonight, I would be dead.” He stared at me. Then laughed a little. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re fine, aren’t you? And honestly, the way you took that guy’s wrist out with a chair? You’re not dying anytime soon. You’re too tough for that.” He was still smiling. “Hell would send you back.” Still laughing. Still treating the whole night like a minor plot point. Still utterly certain that I was built to absorb whatever the world threw at me. I looked at his handsome, familiar, completely foreign face and felt a tiredness so deep I had no words for it. I was done explaining. Done justifying. Some people, you can’t wake them up. They have to stay asleep. Maybe it was guilt about earlier. Ethan reached into his jacket pocket and tossed me a velvet box. “Here. Picked this up at an auction a while back. I thought the necklace was nice. You never really wear jewelry. Think of it as hazard pay for tonight.” I opened it slowly. An emerald necklace. Antique design, clearly expensive. But the style was heavy, ornate, old-fashioned. The exact kind of thing my stepmother always wore. “What do you think? I’m good to you, right?” Ethan looked pleased with himself. “My mom used to wear something similar, very elegant. You always dress so plainly. This might help.” I looked at the necklace. He had never once known what I actually liked. “Thank you.” I closed the box. “Oh, and…” Ethan shifted gears, and something new crossed his face, a rare, slightly shy smile I had almost never seen on him. “Are you free tomorrow? I want you to come somewhere with me.” My fingers tightened on the edge of the velvet box. “Where?” “To pick out a ring.” His smile deepened. “I want to propose to Sophia. Properly. I owe her that and more after five years. And you have the best taste. You know what she’d love. She’s going to say yes.” Even though I had known this was coming, even though I had prepared myself for every version of this moment, I still heard it. The sound of something cracking. Like ice splitting, one sharp, clean sound, and then the whole world breaking apart.

Jamie’s POV I know what she’d love? No. I knew what Sophia would love because I had spent years quietly finding out, digging through her friends for information so I could hand Ethan the perfect gift every single time. I had pushed him into another woman’s arms and then handed him a map to her heart. “Okay.” The next afternoon. The most prestigious custom jewelry boutique in Manhattan. The consultant spread tray after velvet tray across the counter. Diamonds caught the light from every angle. Ethan studied each one with the focus he rarely applied to anything else. More serious than when he reviewed a billion-dollar contract. “Too small. Not for her.” “Too fussy. Sophia likes clean lines.” “This one…” He picked up a pink diamond ring and turned to me. “Jamie. Give me your hand.” I instinctively pulled my hand back. “For what?” “To try it on.” He said it like it was obvious. “Your fingers are about the same size as hers. Your hands are rougher, she takes better care of hers, but the bone structure is the same. Come on.” I looked at him. The boy who had taken up every corner of my youth. Standing here now, holding a ring he had chosen for someone else, asking to use my hand as a stand-in. And noting, while he was at it, that my hands weren’t as soft as hers. Of course they weren’t. Sophia’s hands were made for piano keys and oil paintings. Mine were made for sorting his files, managing his crises, and once, to make a project deadline, hauling equipment on a construction site. “Ethan.” My voice wavered. “Come on, hurry up.” He was already impatient, completely unaware. “What are you waiting for?” I held out my left hand. He slid the pink diamond onto my ring finger. A perfect fit. The stone caught the light against my pale skin. The whole thing felt like a punchline I’d been building toward for twenty-two years. “Beautiful!” Ethan’s face lit up. “Yeah, you really do have to see a ring on a hand to know. Your hands aren’t exactly model material, but the diamond’s flashy enough to carry it. It’s going to look even better on Sophia.” He handed the ring to the consultant, satisfied, and asked her to box it up. I looked at my bare finger. Then at Ethan, beaming as he took the small white box, completely at peace with the world. I smiled. Faint. Sad. “Ethan.” I said it to his back, quiet as a sigh. “The divorce papers are signed. I left them on your desk.” He stopped. Turned. And smiled, the wide, easy smile of a man whose life is suddenly coming together. “Jamie, seriously, thank you. Dinner tonight, on me. We can celebrate finally being single again!” I didn’t respond. I was thinking about the winter of junior year in high school. Sophia had been obsessed with a burger place near campus, but the lines were always impossible. So Ethan dragged me out of class to go stand in it for her. It was freezing, the wind cutting right through everything. My hands were so cold they cracked and blistered. Ethan pulled off his scarf, and for one second I thought he was going to wrap it around me. Instead, he bundled it around the bag of burgers, tucked the whole thing against his chest. “This way they’ll still be warm when Sophia gets them.” I came down with a fever that afternoon. Ethan patted me on the back. “Your immune system is terrible. You need to toughen up.” The memory wrapped around my chest like a thorned vine and squeezed.

Jamie’s POV When Ethan got home that evening, I was in the middle of packing. Two large suitcases lay open in the center of the living room. The things that were mine were quietly disappearing. Half the bookshelf was empty. The flat shoes I always wore by the door were gone. Even the pair of matching toothbrush cups on the bathroom counter had been reduced to one. Ethan stood in the doorway and stared. “Already?” He nudged one of the suitcases with his foot. “You don’t have to rush. You can stay. I’m not asking you to leave.” “It’s better this way.” I didn’t look up, my hands still moving. “We can’t keep living together once the divorce is final. Sophia would mind.” Ethan loosened his tie with a mildly irritated tug. “I’ve already explained everything to Sophia. Our marriage was never real. And you’re my best friend. Divorce doesn’t change that. What’s wrong with taking the guest room?” Family. What a word. I finally set down what I was holding and looked at him. The chandelier above us was bright. It lit up every line of his face, every trace of his easy, unbothered certainty. “Ethan. Men and women can’t just be friends.” I said it calmly, like a fact he had always chosen not to hear. “Especially not when one of them is about to get married. I don’t want to be someone people whisper about. And I don’t want to make things harder for you.” He blinked. Then almost laughed, like I’d said something absurd. “Who’s going to say anything about you? You’re VP of Foster Group.” Then his voice shifted. “And where would you even go? Back to your dad’s? You think your stepmother and your sister are going to roll out the welcome mat?” “I’m not going back there.” My lashes flickered. I raised my eyes and looked directly at him. “I’m going to stay with my fiancé.” The room went silent. The smile on Ethan’s face didn’t just fade. It froze, then cracked. “What did you just say?” “I said I’m going to stay with my fiancé.” I held his gaze and told the lie as steadily as I had ever told the truth. “He’s someone I knew in college. He’s been waiting for me. I kept putting things off because of you. Now that you have what you want, it’s time I went and lived my own life.” Ethan couldn’t move. “You can’t have a fiancé.” I wasn’t surprised. Of course he thought that. I had spent every hour orbiting him. My entire world had been his world. “You’re making it up,” he said, voice going strange. “Jamie, don’t joke about something like this. Who is he? What does he do? Does he treat you right? Is he after your money?” The questions came fast, almost frantic. I watched him unravel and felt nothing. No flutter. No ache. Just a quiet, exhausted stillness. “He treats me well. The same way you treat Sophia.” I kept my voice even. “He remembers when my cycle is and makes me warm milk. He knows my stomach is bad and won’t let me drink cold water. He turned down an arranged match his family set up for me.” “Ethan. You’re not the only person in the world who knows how to love someone.” I let that sit for a moment. “And Sophia isn’t the only person in the world worth loving.” He opened his mouth. Closed it. “Is that so?” He laughed, but it came out unsteady. “That’s great, then. Why didn’t you ever tell me? You could have said something. I’m your friend. I can’t believe you kept this from me.” “Because you never asked.” I picked up my bag. “I have to go. Ethan, I hope you and Sophia are happy. I really do.” I didn’t look at him again. I pulled my suitcase toward the front door. The wheels hummed against the marble floor, and the sound filled the empty house. “Wait!” The moment my hand touched the cold door handle, Ethan crossed the room in a few strides and slammed his palm flat against the door, trapping himself between me and the exit. His eyes were wide and unsteady. Like a child about to lose something he had never thought to value until right now. “Tonight, just have dinner with me tonight. You’re leaving. It’s the least we can do. Invite them, invite your friend, and I’ll check them out for you too.” I knew he was just making excuses. I looked down at the hand he had pressed against the door. Long fingers, clean knuckles. Beautiful, even now. “That’s not necessary.” I gently moved his hand aside. “He doesn’t like me staying close with my ex-husband.” Ex-husband. That word drew the line. It cut off every way back. I opened the door and walked out. Outside, the night was deep and dark. There was no fiancé. No college friend. The only person I had ever cared about, my whole life, was the one inside that house behind me. And now, I was letting him go. “Ethan,” I whispered to myself, “this time, I really mean it. I’m done.”

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The day of my engagement, my sister Tiffany got into a car accident and lost her memory, mistaking my fiancé Liam for her boyfriend. Everyone immediately ordered me to give Liam to her. Seeing my diamond ring, she sniffled, forcing a smile, “If you like it so much, I’ll just give it to you.” My brother, Ethan, snatched my wedding ring from my hand and threw it down the drain to vent his anger for her. When she found out I moved into our wedding home, she cried, tears streaming down her face, “Why do you have to steal my wedding home too? We’re family!” Mom and Dad both urged me to be generous and kind, then ganged up and kicked me out of the house. Later, she suffered from depression and climbed onto the rooftop late at night, weeping that no one loved her. Liam rushed to her side, gently wiping away her tears. “Silly girl, you’re the one I’ve always loved.” He personally placed a veil on her, and they shared a sweet kiss under the moonlight. No one paid attention to me, pushed off the building by her, lying there mangled, dying in agony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my sister Tiffany got into the car accident and lost her memory.  

“Seducing Liam, doing something so utterly despicable and shameless—how do you even have the nerve to live?” The moment I opened my eyes, I saw Tiffany lunging at me in fury, a pair of sharp scissors in her hand, aimed straight for my face. Instinctively, I pushed her away. Tiffany stumbled, the scissors flying from her grip, and she lost her balance, collapsing onto the floor. “I’m your own sister, why would you do this to me…” She clutched her face, sobbing uncontrollably. Mom and Dad rushed out of the hospital room, embracing her tenderly and comforting her without end. People came and went in the hospital, casting countless strange glances our way. “She looks so innocent, but she’s actually a homewrecker.” “They’re sisters? How utterly shameless.” I stared fixedly at the delicate woman before me, pinching my palm hard. The pain brought me back to reality. I had truly been reborn. Back to the day Tiffany lost her memory in the car accident! In my previous life, that day was supposed to be my wonderful engagement day with Liam. Tiffany, who was studying abroad, had rushed back to celebrate with me but got into a car accident on the way. When she woke up, she unexpectedly lost her memory, mistaking Liam for her boyfriend of many years. Upon hearing about my engagement to Liam, she completely broke down. “I’m the one who loves him!” “Stella, you’re my own sister, why would you betray me?” From that day on, Tiffany treated me like an enemy. She’d throw tantrums anytime, anywhere, constant insults were normal, and slaps and objects being thrown never stopped. The worst time, she threw a pot of boiling water on me, leaving large scars. My life became unbearable. But everyone around me said I bore an inescapable responsibility. “If she hadn’t rushed back to celebrate with you, Tiffany wouldn’t have lost her memory. You owe her big time!” “She’s sick now, she has amnesia. How can you even think about arguing with her?” From that day on, I was forced to tolerate and endure all of Tiffany’s malice. And she, in turn, gained everyone’s favoritism. Seeing the engagement ring on my finger, she would sniffle, forcing a smile, “If you like it, I’ll just give it to you.” Behind my back, she’d cry herself into dehydration and end up in the ER. My brother, Ethan, who had always looked up to me, snatched my wedding ring and flushed it down the toilet, to vent his anger for her. When she found out I moved into our wedding home, she cried, tears streaming down her face, “Why do you always steal my things? We’re family!” Mom and Dad were heartbroken, turning to scold me for not being generous and kind, then kicking me out of the house. No matter how absurd or unreasonable Tiffany’s demands were, I had to fulfill them. Even a hint of dissatisfaction, and she would have a fit, threaten to cut her wrists. And I gradually became the killer in everyone’s eyes, the one who drove her to her death. “Tiffany has amnesia, she’s not deliberately bothering you. Can’t you be more understanding of a sick person?” “It’s just a small favor, what’s the big deal? She’s your sister!” But who would be understanding of me? So, because Tiffany lost her memory, I was supposed to sacrifice my entire life? In that moment, I felt utter darkness. It was as if I was trapped in a deserted alley, with no end in sight. In the end, even the fiancé I had loved for years was handed over. “Because of you, Tiffany was so seriously hurt. Can’t you just bear with it?” When I couldn’t help but complain, Liam looked at me with cold, reproachful eyes: “You have no pity for your own family, Stella, do you even have a heart?!” I’ll never forget that night. Tiffany, suffering a depressive episode, climbed onto the rooftop in the middle of the night, weeping that no one loved her. Upon hearing the news, I rushed up immediately, wanting to save her. But she violently shoved me, and I fell, mangled and bloody. Liam rushed to the scene. He clearly saw me, lying there in agony on the ground, yet he still ran straight upstairs and held Tiffany in his arms, gently wiping away her tears: “Silly girl, you’re the one I’ve always loved.” Under the romantic moonlight, he personally placed a veil on her, and they kissed sweetly. No one cared about me, cruelly pushed off the building. My throat gushed with blood and fragments of internal organs, but it couldn’t compare to the searing pain in my heart. Liam clearly saw me… Why didn’t he save me? I longed and begged to live. I was still alive! But all I got was a body growing cold, slowly bleeding out and suffocating, a tragic end of despair. Floating in mid-air, I saw the triumphant smile on Tiffany’s lips. She hadn’t lost her memory at all! The so-called car accident was nothing more than a staged act! Only because she also liked Liam, driven by jealousy, she deliberately plotted to ruin the engagement party. Turning my life into a nightmare! Why me?! Carrying that resentment and hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Tiffany got into the car accident.  

Right now. Tiffany was still crying dramatically. “I just don’t understand, Stella, you’re my sister!” She choked, clutching her chest, her face even paler. “What did I ever do to you, that you would shamelessly steal my engagement ring…” Before she could finish, my brother Ethan anxiously jumped in to accuse me: “Stella, can’t you be more understanding? Tiffany is already suffering so much from the car accident and memory loss, and you’re deliberately provoking her! Are you even human?!” He roughly grabbed my hand, pulled off my ring, and flung it into the toilet. “It’s just a stupid ring… Ha, let’s see you show it off now!” Yet, just before, at the engagement party, he had earnestly promised me: “Sis, if anyone ever bullies you, I’ll beat them to a pulp!” In front of me, Mom and Dad also wore cold expressions. “Tiffany is sick now. As family, we need to give her plenty of love.” “Stella, you need to be deferential to your sister. If you dare to provoke Tiffany again, get out of our house. It’s our bad luck to have raised such a cold-hearted ingrate!” They only cared about Tiffany. No one remembered that today was supposed to be my engagement day. There were no blessings, only utter chaos. I had expected this. In my previous life, when they saw my horrific injuries, Mom and Dad were heartbroken. But under Tiffany’s tearful onslaught, they quickly changed their tune, claiming I had accidentally fallen from a height, just to exonerate Tiffany. Later, at my grave, they smiled with relief, telling me not to blame them, and to reincarnate soon. “Life, after all, must move forward.” But their bright and beautiful future was built upon my death! Even though I had experienced it all before. Those cold, impatient stares still pierced my heart, making it seize up. Looking at the loving family before me. I nodded expressionlessly. “I don’t care. Do what you want.”  

Before they went home. I packed a few simple toiletries and moved out. The next day, after calming myself, I went to work. First thing in the morning, my colleagues were all congratulating me on my engagement. “Make sure you invite us to the wedding!” “Stella, you and Liam are a perfect match. Your children are going to be beautiful!” Suddenly hearing Liam’s name, I trembled. It was as if I was back in that frigid moonlit night. My bones shattered, I lay on the ground like a dead dog, struggling with all my might but to no avail, only able to agonizingly feel life slowly drain away… I never wanted to experience that desperate taste again! Exhaling sharply, I was about to clarify my relationship with Liam. But then, Tiffany darted out from the crowd, grabbed a computer from a nearby desk, and savagely hurled it at me. “Stella, you’ll stop at nothing to seduce Liam for your career! He’s your sister’s man!” “Do you really have to completely ruin my life before you’re satisfied?!” Her shout created a huge stir. My colleagues around me started whispering. “Oh my god, what a bombshell!” “I knew it! Stella, a woman, becoming manager so soon after graduation? She must have slept her way to the top. Tsk, tsk…” “And they’re sisters? Becoming a mistress to steal her sister’s fiancé, how absolutely shameless, ugh!” Shock, disdain, contempt… Strange looks pierced me like needles. I watched Tiffany’s outburst calmly: “Are you done making a scene?” “Stella, you’ve always targeted me, jealous that I’m more successful and happy than you.” Tiffany gave a tragic smile, her face stained with tears. “Before, I always tolerated you because you were younger, but you’re really driving me crazy!” “I… I’m pregnant. My baby needs a father, and he’ll call you Auntie!” “Stella, please give Liam back to me, okay?” Undeniably, Tiffany was a master actress. She cautiously cradled her belly, tears falling like a broken string of pearls, evoking sympathy from everyone. Not to mention, the other protagonist soon appeared. When Liam showed up, he froze. He first guiltily avoided my gaze, then unhesitatingly rushed to Tiffany, his face filled with tenderness. This “sincere display” further solidified my “disgrace.” The murmurs around us grew louder. Ignoring them, I calmly dialed the police. And also contacted a mental hospital. Tiffany loved to use her “fits” to torment and humiliate me. So, I’d send her back to where she belonged!  

By the time Mom and Dad rushed over. Tiffany was leaning by the window, threatening to jump. One foot hovered in mid-air, her eyes red: “I just want my happiness back, is that wrong?” “Why do I, who’s never done anything bad, have to suffer such cruelty?” “Liam, it seems we’re destined to be together in this life. Let’s meet again in the next!” Everyone was terrified by her deathly words. Liam was completely flustered; he stepped forward, trembling, to comfort her: “Tiffany, please come down, okay? We still have a connection. Can you bear to leave me like this?” Tiffany’s face was pale, tears continuously streaming down: “But Stella is my own sister, I really can’t bear to hurt her…” She closed her eyes and let go of the window frame. As she was about to fall, Liam lunged forward, fiercely pulling her into his arms. As if he was embracing the cherished treasure of his life. Seeing Tiffany successfully rescued, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. Mom turned and slapped me hard: “Stella, are you gloating now? Driving your own sister to death, how could I have given birth to such a cold-blooded, heartless animal?!” Dad also gave me a cold glare: “Apologize to Tiffany immediately! Otherwise, you’ll regret it!” I touched the stinging pain on my face, responding calmly: “I didn’t do anything wrong, why should I apologize?” They knew perfectly well. It was Tiffany’s “amnesia” and “illness” that made her mistake him. Why should I accept this fabricated guilt? “Stella, are you done?!” Mom impatiently cut me off, her voice shrill and piercing: “Tiffany got this strange illness because of your car accident and amnesia. You must atone for her for the rest of your life!” “You nitpick over every little thing! How did I ever give birth to such a cold-hearted, ungrateful viper?!” “If I had known… I should have strangled you at birth to spare others from your evil!” Even Liam looked at me with hatred. They all united to protect Tiffany. But Tiffany’s attempt to jump, though dramatic, was staged. Below the window was a spacious patio, barely half a meter high. No one could die from such a fall. Yet, in my previous life, when I was pushed down from dozens of feet high and lay broken on the concrete, no one stood up for me. Their hearts were always and only for Tiffany. I had no chance before, but now I would seek justice for myself! When the police arrived. I turned and exposed Tiffany’s antics: “Tiffany slandered my reputation. Please give me justice.” The moment the words left my mouth. Liam’s face instantly changed, and he shot me a look of displeasure. Dad roared at me, his face grim: “Stella, are you crazy? Do you really want to send your own sister to prison?” Mom, with her sharp fingernails, lunged at me, not forgetting to curse: “Fine, heaven truly is blind to let me raise such a despicable, low-life animal!” “Stella, listen to me. If you cause Tiffany to be taken away by the police today, I’ll disown you as my daughter!” Facing those hateful, glaring eyes, I remained expressionless. In my previous life, when I slowly bled out and died in despair, my heart had already stopped feeling pain. The Stella who was a daughter of the family was already dead in that desolate moonlit night. I turned and handed the pre-prepared evidence to the police: “The one causing trouble is Tiffany, my biological sister. She has a mental illness, memory confusion.” Saying this, I handed over a copy of her medical records. Tiffany had been very thorough in her act, somehow procuring a seemingly authentic diagnostic report. In my previous life, she used this “get out of jail free card” to humiliate and torment me repeatedly. But now, it would be the very thing to nail her to the pillar of shame!

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Before the motorcycle race, my fiancé Lucas stopped me just as I was about to take the starting line. “Nora, you’re giving up your spot today. Lina rides first — you’re her backup.” I froze. This was the most important race of my career. The one that could cement my place as the world’s number one female rider. And he wanted me to play backup for a rookie. I refused, flat out. Lucas frowned. “Lina needs this win. You’ve already taken five championships — what’s one more going to prove?” “Nora, if you don’t fall in line, you know what happens.” I laughed. “You’re going to fire me?” Lucas didn’t deny it. And every single team member who had stood beside me through all five of those championships — every one of them stayed silent, accepting the decision without a word. In that moment, I understood. It wasn’t that Lina needed the championship. It was that they had decided the team no longer needed me. I unclipped the team badge from my chest and pulled off my engagement ring. I dropped them both in front of Lucas. “Fine Then I’m done with the team. And I’m done with you.”

I turned and walked toward my bike. But Lina was already sitting on it, wearing a brand-new racing suit. When she saw me coming, she seemed to suddenly remember I existed. She gave me a small, almost timid look. “Nora, I’m sorry. But Lucas said — starting today, this bike is mine.” My head rang like a bell had gone off inside it. I spun around, grabbed Lucas by the collar, and yanked. “What is this? You gave her my bike?! On what grounds?! That’s MY bike — who gave you the right?!” My eyes burned. I stared him down. “I built that bike over six years!” “Three hundred qualifying races. Broken bones. Hospital bills. That bike was born from every one of those nights — every hour I spent with the engineers tearing it apart and rebuilding it!” “It’s won five world championships with me. And it was the first thing you ever —” I bit my lip and stopped myself. Because that bike was more than a racing machine. It was the first motorcycle Lucas ever built with his own hands. It was the gift he gave me the day he asked me to be his. I still remembered how he looked that day — pushing it out in front of me, cheks flushed, asking if I’d ride beside him all the way to the top. He said, “Nora, racing is dangerous. Out there on the track, you face every second alone. I can’t always be beside you — but I want this bike to be.” And now he was giving it away. Handing it to someone else like it meant nothing. Lucas simply pried my fingers off his collar, his voice even and unmoved. “That bike is registered under the team.” “All the modification costs went through team accounts.” “Didn’t you just say you were done with the team? Done with me?” “If you’re leaving the team —” “then you have no claim to team property. Why shouldn’t I give it to a new rider?” I stared at him. Something cold moved through me all at once. Six years ago, when the team couldn’t even afford to rent practice track, I was the one who poured every prize check back into it. I was the one grinding race after race, chasing sponsorships, keeping the whole operation alive. All that money I had bled for — the moment it touched a team account, it stopped being mine. I didn’t even have the right to use it anymore. Lina tugged carefully at Lucas’s sleeve. “Lucas, maybe just let it go.” “Nora’s been with the team a long time. I’d feel terrible if all of this happened because of me.” Then she turned to me, voice soft. “Nora, don’t be upset with Lucas. The rally takes a real toll on your body, and you’re thirty now — he’s just worried you can’t handle the strain anymore.” I heard every word. And I laughed. Not because it was funny. But Lucas had already turned away, crossing the floor toward Lina. “Let me fix your gear.” He crouched down, lifted her foot onto his knee, and adjusted her boot straps himself. Lina’s face went bright red. Her eyes kept drifting toward me, wide and innocent. “Lucas, isn’t this a little…” Lucas gave a low, quiet laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with it.” “You’re the most important person on this team today. Nobody else even comes close.” Each word landed like a slap. The people around them closed in, filling the air with warm laughter, explaining the upcoming race — wind conditions, terrain, competitor profiles. I stood exactly where I was. Not one person looked at me. Not one person had even thought to get me a comm earpiece. What they’d left for me was a backup bike. An old model that had been retired the year before. Everyone was waiting me out. Waiting for me to cave. Because without team support, there was no way I could finish a rally race on my own. I clenched my jaw so hard my nails nearly broke the skin of my palm. Then my phone buzzed. A message from the manager of the team in next paddock over. “I heard everything. Nora — there will always be a place for you on my team.”

“Still sulking?” Lucas had come up beside me at some point. I locked my phone and looked at him. He spoke like nothing had happened. Calm, collected. “The wind shifted today. I already had someone mark the updated track conditions — you should take a look before the start.” I didn’t take it. Lucas pressed his lips together briefly, then crouched down beside the old backup bike and began running a pre-race check like it was the most natural thing in the world. After a moment, almost as an afterthought, he said: “You’ve been asking me to come meet your parents for a while now. I know we kept having to push it back — something always came up with the team. Once this race is over, I’ll go with you.” Something caught in my chest. I didn’t know when it had happened — when the Lucas who used to look at me like I was his whole world had turned into this. Every time he needed something from me, the pattern was always the same. He’d let me cool off first, wait for me to come around on my own. And if I didn’t, he’d offer something small — just enough — and then act like the whole thing had never happened. I looked down for a moment. “We’ll see,” I said. Lucas’s hands paused on the bike. He hadn’t expected that answer. But a memory was already surfacing. Every time I’d asked to bring him home, my parents would spend days getting ready. My mom would be up before dawn to get to the market. My dad would clean the house from top to bottom, inside and out. A whole table of food, kept warm from noon into the evening — and every single time, what eventually arrived was a message from Lucas saying something had come up. They were always so disappointed. But they never let it show. They’d hold their smiles together and tell me it was fine. “It’s okay, honey. His career comes first — there’s always next time.” But next time never came. They kept waiting. My phone lit up with a notification. Lina’s personal account. I had never clicked on it before. I don’t know why I did this time. My hands started to shake. Every single time Lucas had canceled on my parents — none of it was because of the team. The day he said he had a sponsor meeting, he was out shopping with Lina. The day he said there was an emergency staff meeting, he took Lina to a theme park. The day he said the training data had flaged an error — There was a photo of him sitting at a dinner table. Lina’s family’s place. Her parents on either side of them, all smiling. Lina was leaning into him, looking completely at ease. The comments were full of people asking when they were getting married. Lucas had never said a word about any of it. He’d just quietly liked every single post. My chest tightened. I kept scrolling. The most recent post stopped me cold. It was a close-up of a motorcycle. I recognized it immediately. My bike. Lina’s caption read: He said he had a special gift for me. Starting today, this bike has a new name — “Little Bell.” I stared at the photo. The name Lucas had carved into the frame with his own hands — my name — had been sanded away. In its place was a small, freshly engraved bell. Everything snapped into focus. Giving the bike to Lina wasn’t a last-minute decision. Neither was bumping me to backup. He had planned all of it. I looked up and held the phone out to Lucas. “Explain this.” Lucas glanced at the screen. Didn’t even blink. “It was a post-training activity for the new riders. Nora, if you want to be upset, fine — but don’t go spreading rumors about her.” I held my ground. “And the bike? Why was my name removed?” Lucas finally looked up at me. His expression wasn’t guilty. It was something closer to patience — like he was explaining something obvious. “Nora, you’re thirty. Every other team in this circuit has already been talking about moving on from you. I’m the reason you’ve still been in the starting lineup.”

I went completely still. Lucas kept going, like he hadn’t noticed. “You’re getting married next year. You’ll need to step back from all this eventually. Passing the bike to a new rider makes sense — and using this race to build Lina’s profile is the right call. What exactly is the problem?” “Nora. Be reasonable. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Something in me went very quiet. I looked at him. Then I noded slowly. “Got it.” I turned and pushed the backup bike toward the starting line. Lucas visibly relaxed. He thought I’d finally given in. But what he didn’t know was that when the manager from the neighboring team — Shane — had messaged me earlier asking if I’d made up my mind, I’d already sent back a single word. Yes. The moment I rolled into the starting grid, the whole venue erupted. People shot to their feet in stands. “What is going on?! Why isn’t Nora starting?!” “Isn’t that her championship bike?! Why is a rookie on it?!” “They put the champion on a throwaway bike and gave the race machine to a newcomer — has this team lost its mind?!” Someone screamed toward the team paddock. “Give Nora her bike back!” No one responded. The starting gun fired. Every bike launched forward at once. The roar of the engines swallowed the entire circuit. The backup bike was rougher than the championship machine — wilder, harder to control. Engine heat climbed fast, and the temperature burned straight through the frame into my thighs. I didn’t feel it. There was only one thought in my head. Go. Push everything you have. Corner after corner fell behind me. My tires scraped the rock face on the cliff side. The frame dipped so low it was nearly kissing the ground. The commentator’s voice broke through over the speakers, pitched higher with every update. “Nora is charging hard!” “She’s on a bike that was retired years ago!” “Oh my God — she’s already in the top five!” “Second place! Nora has moved into second!” Meanwhile, on the other side of the course — Lina was falling back. Steadily, visibly. A reporter’s voice cut through the broadcast channel. “Lina is crying!” “She’s crying while she rides!” “She’s clearly overwhelmed — the pressure has completely gotten to her!” I didn’t spare a thought for any of it. The only thing I could see was the tail of the first-place bike ahead of me. One final climb. That was all that stood between me and the pass. Then Lucas’s voice came through my earpiece — low, tightly controlled. “Nora. Are you done? Ease off. Now.” I gripped the handlebars. “No.” Silence for a beat. When he came back, his voice was ice. “Nora.” “You are still a member of this team. If you refuse to follow instructions, I will terminate your contract. You will never work in this industry again — and you will owe us seven figures in breach penalties.” “And don’t forget our engagement. Keep this up, and I will start reconsidering our future.” I fixed my eyes on first place. Closing in. “I already said it.” “I’m done with the team.” “And I’m done with you.” “Lucas.” “You have nothing to threaten me with.” “This is my win. I’m taking it back myself.” A few seconds of silence. When Lucas spoke again, he wasn’t angry. He was quiet in a way that made my stomach drop. “Nora. You’re going to regret this.” My heart lurched. The next second — The bike exploded beneath me. A violent, full-body shudder. The handlebars went haywire. The frame swung left, then right, completely out of my control. The thought hit me like ice water. Someone tampered with the bike. I fought the bars with everything I had. Tried to hold the line. Tried to aim for the finish. Even if it kills me — I cross that line first. The bike hit maximum speed. The frame buckled. We left the track entirely. The impact shook the whole mountainside. I was launched. Airborne. My body hit the rock wall hard. Blood floded my vision. My thoughts started to come apart. In the last second before everything went black — Lucas’s voice drifted through my earpiece. Soft. Almost tired. “Nora. Why couldn’t you just listen?” Then the world went dark.

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“Chloe, you must’ve had a wild time overseas, didn’t you?” My sister-in-law, Fiona, whom I was meeting for the first time, suddenly blurted this out when I came home for the holidays. “That necklace looks familiar. Black for in-person, white for video, blue for custom orders, red for no limits. What level are you at?” My relatives, who had just been prying about my income, collectively gasped in shock. “No wonder you insisted on going abroad. You were afraid of being seen if you were selling yourself here, huh?” Mom and Dad were furious. “Get out! Don’t you dare stain our family’s name!” I touched the red carnelian necklace on my neck and smiled. “Oh, Fiona, you’ve had a wilder time than me. You’re sweeter to Mr. Jenkins next door than you are to Ethan.” It had been four years since I’d been home. Mom and Dad had specifically invited all our relatives over for a big holiday dinner. I went around, toasting everyone and handing out the gifts I’d prepared. Aunt Carol kept praising me, eyeing the brand new designer bag I’d given her. “Chloe, you’re the successful one. Among all the kids in our family, no one earns as much as you. If you get a chance to get rich, don’t forget to bring us along.” Mom and Dad beamed, their faces glowing. “Chloe not only earns a lot but she’s also so thoughtful. She even sends us two thousand dollars every month while studying abroad, unlike someone else I know. We sent him to a private vocational college that costs forty thousand a year, and he still couldn’t graduate. He just lounges around at home all day, driving us crazy.” Ethan, my brother, who had been sulking and drinking heavily, bristled at the comparison. “Who knows where she got that money? It’s probably dirty money!” Fiona nudged his arm, then raised her glass with an apologetic look. “Chloe, Ethan’s had too much to drink, don’t mind him. “But I really don’t know, what kind of work were you doing abroad that paid so well?” I put down my glass, about to speak, but then I saw her raise an eyebrow, a look on her face like she wanted to say something but couldn’t. “Honestly, you don’t have to say anything, Chloe. We all understand that a pretty girl like you might be tempted to make quick cash.” The moment she finished speaking, everyone at the dinner table stared at me. Someone blunt just came out and asked, “Chloe, were you selling yourself overseas?” Fiona then seemed to realize she’d spoken out of turn, waving her hand with a laugh. “What ‘selling herself’? Why say something so ugly? I didn’t say anything at all! Eat, eat.” “But I just need to remind you, Chloe, don’t let anyone take pictures or videos. With all your male relatives around, it would be awful if they saw you online later.” I couldn’t believe Fiona, whom I was meeting for the first time, would openly spread rumors about me. I was so angry, I slammed my fist on the table. “That’s nonsense! How could you say such a thing? Did you see anything?!” She looked startled. “No, no, I didn’t see anything, I’m just talking nonsense, okay? But if you’re wearing *that kind* of necklace, why are you afraid of people talking?” But it was too late to stop the conversation. Dad slammed his fork down. “What necklace? Explain yourself!” Fiona was quick to reply. “Everyone says that international students who wear those necklaces are… wild. “Black for in-person, white for video, blue for custom orders, red for no limits. Chloe, what level are you at?” The relatives who had been showering me with compliments instantly changed their tune. “I knew it! How else could she earn money instead of spending it on studies? Tsk, tsk.” “Let her keep that money. We’re not jealous of *that* kind of cash.” Aunt Carol, who had been clutching her new bag, also changed her expression. “Ugh, no way! I don’t want anything bought with dirty money. Don’t you dare track that filth into our home.” She even stomped on the ground a few times. Mom and Dad sobered up completely, unable to process what was happening. Mom clutched her chest, struggling to breathe. “Chloe, is what your sister-in-law saying true? Speak up!”

I angrily pounded the table. “Of course it’s not true!” Dad glared. “Then why would Fiona say that? Where did you get that necklace?” I pulled up the brand’s official website to show them. “This necklace is from an international luxury brand, people all over the world buy it. What does it have to do with international students?” I never imagined that something even celebrities and millionaires wore could be used to spread rumors about me. It was like seeing someone with an expensive watch and accusing them of having a sugar daddy. But Fiona was defiant. “Exactly! It’s an expensive brand, so rich men use it to give as gifts!” Watching her spout nonsense, I felt my blood pressure rising. If I didn’t clear this up, my reputation would be completely ruined. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to calm down and asked her, “Fiona, you’ve never even been abroad. What proof do you have for what you’re saying?” To my surprise, she was prepared. She immediately shared a video to the family group chat. “This is what people who studied abroad themselves said. You female international students, you’ve had your fun, made your money overseas, and now you come back looking for some unsuspecting local guy to settle down with.” At her words, Mia, my cousin, who had just been thinking of introducing me to a friend, looked disgusted. “I knew it, none of you who go abroad are any good! Fawning over foreigners, getting used up by foreign men, then running back to contaminate our pure, good-hearted local guys!” Leo, my other cousin, stared at my stomach. “I wondered why you suddenly came back after four years. You’re pregnant and forced to come back looking for someone to marry, right? Is the baby black or white?” I almost laughed from sheer anger watching that video. The person in the video was talking about how those necklaces were popular in niche circles, but in Fiona’s mouth, it became “everyone who wears this necklace is wild.” The video clearly said that *both* male and female international students could be led astray abroad, but Fiona only mentioned female international students. I grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward the door. “Olivia, Mr. Evans’s daughter from upstairs, also studied abroad, and she wears this necklace. Let’s go ask her if she was selling herself too.” Ethan, who had been silent, immediately blocked the doorway. “Chloe, haven’t you caused enough trouble? Are you trying to embarrass us even more?!” “Your sister-in-law has never even met you. Ask yourself, what good would it do her to spread rumors about you?” My whole family stood together, pointing fingers at me. A deep sense of despair choked me. Even though I hadn’t been home for four years, I’d spent countless hours and money helping Mom and Dad buy a house and helping Ethan get married and settle down. Now, those four were a family, and I was the outsider. Seeing my whole family say this, the relatives were even more convinced that I’d had a wild private life abroad. “Flies don’t buzz around clean eggs. So many people are here, why are they only talking about you and not us?” “Your parents boast to everyone that they have a daughter studying abroad. Now where are they supposed to put their faces?” “I don’t dare come to your house for the holidays anymore, lest you corrupt my kids.” Mom’s eyes rolled back, and she collapsed into a chair. Dad’s hand, pointing at my nose, trembled. “Chloe Miller, we never lacked food or drink in this house. Why would you do something so scandalous?!” I was about to explain again that I hadn’t, but Fiona cut me off. “Mom, Dad, don’t say that to Chloe. Maybe it really is a coincidence?” “Even if Chloe inexplicably has so much money, and out of all the branded necklaces, she happened to pick this one, it doesn’t necessarily mean she was selling herself.” I felt faint with anger. Her words seemed to be defending me, but in reality, they still implied the same thing, determined to link me to promiscuous international students. I stopped wasting my breath and pulled out the journal articles I’d published over the past four years. “I was always holed up at school. How would I have time to go out? All this money I earned from doing freelance research in the lab.” Fiona listened, then gasped in fake surprise, covering her mouth. “Chloe, you were doing *those sorts of things* in the lab? You’re so brave!” I stared into Fiona’s eyes, so enraged I felt fire spitting from them. “You’re slandering me, and that’s illegal, you know that? If you don’t have proof, I’ll call the police and have you arrested right now!” Fiona scoffed, then pulled out a photo from her phone. “You want proof? Here it is, see for yourself!”

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“Alex, we accidentally set your house on fire with the fireworks! Your parents are trapped inside!” It was a holiday evening. My old friend, Liam, invited us out to catch up. He insisted on setting off some fireworks to liven things up. Liam, wanting to make a grand show, just waved his hand and bought over ten thousand dollars’ worth of fireworks, ready to light them all at once. Watching the rows of fireworks lined up on the ground, my eyelids twitched, and I tried my best to warn him. But he wouldn’t listen, just smiled and said, “I know what I’m doing.” He finished speaking and rushed forward to light all the fireworks. Helpless, I eventually went back inside to play cards with friends. But my butt hadn’t even warmed the seat when he burst in, frantic, claiming my parents were screaming in agony inside the burning house. I instinctively thought Liam was joking. “No way, my parents…” Before I could finish, he anxiously cut me off. “Seriously! Why would I lie to you? Come on, let’s go! The fire’s out of control!” With that, he yanked me along and pulled me straight towards my house. By now, the fire was completely out of control. I hadn’t even reached my front door, but the scorching heat was already washing over me. There were many people trying to put out the fire, and I could still hear painful groans from inside the house. Someone was screaming a name heartbreakingly, but I couldn’t quite make it out. My brow furrowed. I was even more confused. My parents weren’t home. They hadn’t come back this year. So, who were the two people trapped inside? Without thinking too much, I pulled out my phone to call the fire department and the police, but before I could dial. Mayor Thompson called out to me. He hurried over, a somber expression on his face. “Alex, your parents are trapped in there. I’m afraid we can’t save them from this fire. We’ve thrown so much water on it, but it’s no use.” “You need to brace yourself.” As he spoke, he wiped sweat from his face, his eyes red. I looked up. The house was engulfed in raging flames. I could see two figures, burned, scurrying around, screaming desperately. My heart clenched. Even if they weren’t my parents, we had to get them out quickly. But just as I was about to press the dial button, Mayor Thompson snatched my phone away, stepping forward to stop me. “No, Alex, you can’t call the police!” “Our town is up for a major community grant soon. We absolutely cannot have a fire or fatalities on our record. Let’s just put out this fire and forget about it.” I opened my mouth to argue, but Liam quickly chimed in. “That’s right, Alex, we can’t call the cops. We can’t jeopardize the bigger picture. Look, everyone’s helping you put out the fire. Calling the police would be biting the hand that feeds you. I say let’s just drop this!” “Putting out the fire is the priority right now.” Though I didn’t agree with their reasoning, putting out the fire first was indeed important. I didn’t argue with them further. I quickly joined the firefighting efforts. Seeing this, they also stopped delaying and immediately started fighting the fire. We fought the fire until almost three in the morning. The flames finally died down, but the air was filled with an acrid, lingering smell of smoke. Two charred bodies were carried out and covered with white sheets. Before I could even react, Liam covered his face and started to sob first. “Alex, your parents are so tragic. They died in the fire before the holiday even ended. I wish I hadn’t set off those fireworks; none of this would have happened.” “I’m so sorry, Alex. I never thought everyone else’s houses would be fine, and only yours would catch fire.” “But I didn’t mean to, please don’t blame me.” I hadn’t even said a word, and he was already playing the victim. Even if these weren’t my parents’ bodies, they were still two human lives.

I couldn’t help but get angry, clenching my fists. “Didn’t I warn you today? But no, you had to light all those fireworks. Now the house is burned, and people are dead. What good are those words now?” Liam looked at me with tear-filled eyes, then crouched on the ground, crying even louder. He put on such a display, it almost looked like I was bullying him. Some townspeople couldn’t stand it and stepped forward to defend him. “Alright, people are dead now, what good is talking about it? Just say less and let it go.” “Exactly! No one else’s house caught fire, only yours. At the end of the day, your family just had bad luck. Who can you blame for that?” “Right, if you ask me, you should thank Liam. Your parents died early, didn’t that just cut your future burden of caring for them in half?” He spoke casually, arms crossed, and his words stunned me, instantly sending my anger soaring. “Are you even human?” “What do you mean, ‘burden cut in half’? Step forward and explain yourself!” I tugged at my sleeve, gritting my teeth, and took a step forward. I couldn’t believe those words had come from a person’s mouth. I wanted nothing more than to tear that person’s mouth apart right then. Seeing my aggressive stance, she sheepishly took a step back. Mayor Thompson quickly came forward to intervene, “Alright, alright, Alex, don’t bother with him. That’s just how he talks.” “Now, just focus on making arrangements for your parents. As for a place to stay, you can come to my place. I can’t let you be homeless in town.” Liam, having composed himself, tugged at my sleeve and spoke softly. “Alex, why don’t you stay at my place? No matter what, this is my fault, so consider it my way of making it up to you. You can treat my home as your own, okay?” “My parents can be your parents, alright?” I stared at him silently, but his eyes darted away, unable to meet my gaze directly. I’d found it strange today when he was setting off fireworks. Why so many? And quite a few of the handheld ones were pointed directly at my house. My face was tense. I stared intently at him, trying to catch any hint of something off. Seeing this, Mayor Thompson continued to play the peacemaker, but every word he said was in Liam’s defense. “Alright, Alex, let bygones be bygones. Don’t hold this against Liam. He didn’t mean for this to happen. If you don’t forgive him, he’ll feel terrible too.” “Let’s just take your parents’ bodies to the funeral home for cremation before dawn.” After speaking, he called for people to come and move the bodies. I smiled, speaking each word slowly and clearly. “But Mayor, my parents never came back for the holidays this year. These two bodies can’t be my parents’.” “I think we should call the police and let them determine whose bodies these are.” Everyone’s movements froze. Their faces showed disbelief. Liam had the biggest reaction. He immediately stood up, pointing at the two bodies emotionally. “Impossible! How can they not be your parents’?” “They died in your house! Who else could they be but your parents?” “At the end of the day, you’re just saying this because you still want to call the police, aren’t you?” “Alex! Can’t you be a little more sensible? Is your parents’ death more important than our town getting this community award? Can you not see the bigger picture?” The bigger picture? I couldn’t believe those words came from his mouth. Even more unbelievable was that no one in the entire town objected. Instead, they looked at me with a hint of blame, as if I was making trouble. A knot of anger lodged itself in my chest, neither rising nor falling. Mayor Thompson frowned and stepped forward, his words laced with a warning. “Alex, I know you’re grieving the loss of your parents right now, but you can’t make things difficult for us.” “If you make things difficult, who in town will help with your parents’ funeral arrangements?” “You’re a man; do you have the ability to ensure they rest in peace?” “This matter ends here. It’s already light out; let’s just bury your parents directly.” Saying this, he immediately called for a few men to move the bodies. But it was the holiday season, and everyone felt it was a bad omen. No one wanted to be the first to move. Liam pursed his lips and pushed me. “Alex, what are you waiting for? Give these men some money! You know you have to pay for things to get done, right?” “You’ve been working outside for years; how can you not understand how things work around here? I’ve stayed in this town, I know what I’m talking about.” “Everyone needs at least a thousand dollars, you know?” He urged me while signaling to the men to show their payment app QR codes. “Go on, pay up. After all, these are your parents’ bodies. No matter what, you need to show respect.”

A thousand dollars per person? To hell with their “how things work.” This was practically robbery. When no money was offered, no one wanted to touch them. But as soon as “a thousand dollars” was mentioned, over ten men immediately sprang forward. That would easily be ten thousand dollars. I didn’t move, suppressing my impatience and raising my voice. “I’ve already told you, these aren’t my parents’ bodies. My parents didn’t come back for the holidays this year.” “I don’t know who these two people are!” Liam’s expression stiffened. A cold scoff echoed from the crowd. The woman who had previously defended Liam stepped forward again. “Stop bluffing! I saw your parents around eight last night! I even said hello to them!” “You need to come up with a better lie, and plenty of other people saw your parents too!” A few people next to her also spoke up in agreement. “I saw them too. We were sitting by the town entrance, chatting, and we all saw your parents. We have no reason to lie to you.” “Exactly. We also saw them. Nobody lies about dead people; it’s bad luck. We’re not that bored.” Their back-and-forth chatter gave me a headache, but my parents really hadn’t come back for the holidays. My scrutinizing gaze fell on them, but their confident expressions didn’t seem fake. A sudden, unbidden dread began to creep into my heart. Liam subconsciously let out a sigh of relief, patting my shoulder to comfort me. “Alex, I know you might have trouble accepting this right now, but everyone has no reason to lie to you, right?” “If you don’t believe it, just make a call. Then you can confirm whether your parents are home or not.” My body began to tremble uncontrollably. Someone in the crowd held out a phone to me. It displayed a surveillance video from the town entrance. The footage clearly showed my parents appearing in the video, greeting people. Now I truly panicked. I quickly pulled out my own phone, trembling as I called my dad. But the phone was off. A suffocating feeling swelled in my chest, my heart pounding. My dad’s phone was unreachable, so I immediately called my mom, but her phone still went unanswered. I called five times in a row, but no one picked up. I took a breath, trying to calm myself, then immediately turned to call my brother, Ben, for one last confirmation. The phone rang once, then was answered. Ben’s voice came through. “Alex, anything wrong with calling so early?” I rubbed my stinging eyes, my voice a little hoarse as I asked, “Ben, did Mom and Dad go back to their old house last night?” My brother chuckled on the other end, complaining slightly. “Yeah, last night Dad insisted on going home for some reason—he had a special plan for dinner at home. So, Chloe and I had to drive them back.” “Why? What’s up?” I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. The words wouldn’t come out. I quickly wiped my eyes. My little nephew, Leo, was crying in the background, and my brother had already hung up. Looking at the two bodies, my legs suddenly felt weak. Liam quickly supported me, comforting me while urging me to pay. “Alex, it’s come to this. It’s right to let your parents rest in peace. Don’t be too sad.” “How about we pay the men so they can bury your parents, and then we’ll talk? It’s getting late, and everyone’s been up all night with you.” I was trembling with rage. I shoved Liam’s hand away and knelt before my parents’ bodies. Staring at the charred corpses, I took several deep breaths before finally pulling back the white sheet covering them, examining them closely to confirm. I refused to believe they were my parents, but their burnt figures were so indistinct that I couldn’t even tell their gender. I bit down hard on my teeth, struggling to control my emotions. Behind me, Liam’s lips curved into a smile, then he put on a facade of false concern. “There, there, Alex, don’t be sad. It’s all over now.” Over? How could it be over? If it weren’t for him, how would my house have caught fire? How would my parents have died? I let out a deep, shaky breath, my hand trembling as I pulled out my phone to call the police. Liam slapped my phone out of my hand, annoyance in his voice. “Didn’t I say not to call the police? Don’t you understand that this matter is closed?” I rubbed my throbbing temples, ignoring him, and reached down to pick up my phone from the ground. Liam instantly kicked my phone three feet away. I was so angry I gritted my back teeth, standing up to confront him. Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded behind me. “Alex, what’s everyone gathered here for so early?” I whirled around. The speakers were my parents. David and Sarah. So whose bodies were those on the ground?

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I begged my wife for seven years, and finally, she agreed to come home with me for Christmas. My mom happily prepared the turkey, just waiting for Sarah to arrive. But by midnight, I’d called her dozens of times, and she hadn’t picked up. Just as I was starting to think something terrible had happened and was about to call the police, I saw her latest Snapchat story. “It’s been ages since I’ve been back home to see my buddies. Tonight, we party till we drop!” The picture showed her intimately embracing a man. I recognized him instantly. It was Lucas Thorne, her childhood friend she went back to see every Christmas. I remembered her throwing a tantrum for no reason a few days ago, complaining that Lucas was taking his wife and kids abroad for Christmas this year. Suddenly, I understood why she’d suddenly agreed to come home with my parents and me tonight for Christmas. A pang of pain shot through my chest, but I fought it down and commented on her story. “Didn’t you promise to come home for Christmas?” The next second, her call came in. “Lucas just got back from abroad unexpectedly, and it’s only for one day. Of course, I have to spend time with him.” Her voice trailed off, then I heard muffled kissing sounds through the receiver. A chorus of teasing laughter erupted in the background. I clutched my phone tightly and silently hung up. If she didn’t want to come home, then she shouldn’t expect to step foot in my house again.

Looking at the endless call log on my phone, I just felt ridiculous. I typed out a message to her: “Since you say this isn’t your home, let’s get a divorce.” My finger hovered over the send button for a few seconds, but I finally pressed it. Watching the message deliver, the seven years of frustration weighing on my heart suddenly lifted. The next morning, I was woken by my phone ringing. As soon as I answered, Sarah’s voice, thick with a hangover and anger, blasted through. “Leo Knight, it’s Christmas, of all days! What are you making a scene about now?” “It’s not like I did anything more than go out for a few drinks. Do you really have to bring up something as heavy as divorce on Christmas?” “I’m telling you, I’m not divorcing you. And don’t be so petty. Lucas’s wife never makes a fuss with him.” “Besides, didn’t I explain it to you last night? Lucas is only back from abroad for one day. I don’t get to see him any other time. What could we possibly be doing?” “You’re just overthinking things, I’m telling you…” I didn’t listen to her lengthy explanations, just hung up and got out of bed. Was I overthinking? Every Christmas, she’d find all sorts of excuses not to spend it with me. “Our old family home is too run-down.” “My parents want me this year.” “I absolutely have to go back and see my friends this year.” … To accommodate her, I’d gone back to her parents’ place with her every year for the holidays, leaving my own parents to celebrate alone. But every year, she’d leave me by myself at her parents’ house. She’d go out to parties alone. Claiming she was afraid I wouldn’t get along with her friends. There was even one time I waited for her until three in the morning. I kept calling and texting, but got no response. Worried something had happened, I sent her a message saying I was coming to look for her. But just as I stepped out, I ran into Lucas. He was carrying my drunken wife in his arms. “I was worried Sarah was being plied with too much alcohol, so I brought her back first.” He helped her into my arms, but she clung tightly to him, refusing to let go. He had to coax her repeatedly before she finally released him. I never imagined that the next day, she’d chew me out. “Who told you to interfere? Why were you rushing me? What kind of face did I have left in front of my friends?” “And making Lucas bring me back? Did you want him to freeze?” Now I realize that my going to look for her that night was nothing but an interruption to them, which was why she was so furious. I never thought this year she’d be so blatant. She just ditched me directly, ran into Lucas’s arms, and left my entire family waiting for her. And even made me listen to them flirting. Perhaps she’d been like this for seven years; this year, she was just too lazy to even find an excuse. A call from an unknown number pulled me out of my thoughts. I answered, and an unfamiliar woman’s voice spoke. “Are you Sarah Miller’s husband?” “Yes.” “I’m Chloe Thorne, Lucas’s wife. Let’s talk.”

“Lucas hasn’t had Christmas dinner at home a single time since we got married.” I listened to Chloe recount experiences so similar to my own. I couldn’t help but ask, “Were you planning to go abroad for Christmas this year?” “Not exactly.” She paused, then added, “But every year as Christmas approaches, Lucas buys flights abroad, only to cancel them later.” “Why?” Chloe was silent for a moment before speaking. “He claimed clients from abroad wanted to celebrate here, so he’d cancel his plans.” “So, he said his Christmas dinners were always with clients.” I suddenly remembered that every year after Christmas, Sarah would ask me to invest in certain projects. I asked Chloe what those projects were. I opened Sarah’s laptop and cross-referenced them, only to find they were all the same. “So, we’ve both been in the dark,” Chloe said calmly. “How did you find out?” I couldn’t help but be curious. She gave a faint smile. “Naturally, I looked into those projects he mentioned and found your wife’s name.” “Then, looking through his PayPal transaction history, I saw their chat messages in the memo field.” “That’s how I knew they were meeting up again this year.” “So, you called me because you’re planning…?” I idly played with my mouse, listening intently. “A partnership. We both get what we need.” “Then, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.” After hanging up, I copied all the project files from Sarah’s laptop. As I was checking for anything I might have missed, I noticed a huge file. I clicked on it, and it was full of nested folders. I tried opening them one by one, finally finding a locked file. I tried many passwords, but none worked. Just as I was about to give up and exit the folder, I noticed her laptop wallpaper. In the middle of a large heart, there was a prominent string of letters and numbers: ‘S520L’ I’d accidentally glimpsed her laptop once before, and she’d frantically covered it up. I thought she was just being shy. After all, I was foolish enough to believe this string of letters and numbers were the capitalized initials of our two names. But I never thought Lucas’s initial would also be ‘L’. I quickly typed in the password, and sure enough, it opened. I gave a bitter laugh internally. Even though I knew what would be inside, and I told myself I’d let her go, seeing her and Lucas’s records, I couldn’t stop the pain and hatred. The records were dense with details, big and small. Seven subfolders, one for each of the seven years. Though each year comprised only a few days, they took up a full 10GB. Year one: “Even though I married a man I didn’t love, I still keep the most important place in my heart for you. I’ll come back to be with you every Christmas. Love you, Lucas.” Year two: “I hate Leo’s touch. Only these few days at Christmas are when I truly feel comfortable, all thanks to Lucas.” Year three: “Leo was such a bother looking for me, forcing Lucas to take me home and wasting a night of intimacy with Lucas.” … I scrolled further and further, each entry more explicit. It felt like I was drowning in a river, unable to breathe. The last entry was from the day she abandoned me to go find Lucas alone. Sarah was celebrating. “Lucas really isn’t going abroad?!” “Good thing I found someone to cover my shift, otherwise I would have missed Lucas’s party.” “A six-hour drive is nothing, it’s all worth it for Lucas.” “No need to tell Leo, I didn’t want him to come with me anyway; he’d just get in our way.” There were also a few unmentionable selfies she’d taken. I clutched the mouse, blood draining from my face, my grip so tight I thought it would shatter. Enduring the sharp pain in my heart, I copied and backed up all the evidence. Just as I was about to grab a glass of water to compose myself, Sarah’s call came in. “Leo Knight, get in the car right now and bring my laptop over.”

I refused her without hesitation. Our old family home was over 300 miles from her parents’ place, a drive of at least six or seven hours. When I was pursuing Sarah years ago, I ignored my parents’ objections, determined to win her over even though she lived far away. So, I’d always make time and drive to see her. Whatever she needed, one call from her, and I’d drop everything to go to her. Everything revolved around her. Even if she just mentioned wanting an ice cream from the store downstairs. I’d willingly drive six hours to her place to buy it for her. Even if she took only one bite and threw it away, as long as she needed me, I had no complaints. Because I always believed that the woman who actively helped me to the hospital during my most vulnerable moment after a car accident must be kind and wonderful. From then on, I set my sights on her and pursued her relentlessly. For so many years, my kindness to her had become a habit. And she, naturally, had started taking these habits for granted as things I was supposed to do. So, she never considered how exhausted I’d be from the road, just like she’d tirelessly chase after Lucas. Through the receiver, my wife’s impatient voice came through. “Are you telling me I can’t even tell you what to do anymore?” “If you need it, you can come get it yourself,” I said, my voice flat. She exploded like a lit firecracker. “I’ll come get it? You know how far our old family home is from here, don’t you? Are you trying to kill me with exhaustion?” “Oh, so you know what exhaustion feels like? You didn’t seem tired driving to meet Lucas.” The other side fell silent for a moment, then she immediately hung up. I knew she wanted the laptop, no doubt to prepare Lucas’s contracts. It was even highly likely that Lucas was doing the contracts on her laptop. After all, Sarah rarely dealt with company projects herself; even though she was in the industry, she didn’t understand much. So it had to be Lucas handling them. I never thought that her asking me to bring her laptop home early this year would lead me to discover all this. But it was also possible she was afraid I’d discover the secrets on her laptop. That evening, my parents and I were watching a Christmas special. Sarah’s voice boomed from the doorway. She stormed in, full of anger, towards me. “Where’s my laptop? Where did you put it?” I was somewhat surprised she’d actually driven all that way back. Before I could speak, a male voice behind her piped up. “Sarah, no wonder you never want to spend Christmas here. If it were me, I wouldn’t either. It’s so primitive.” Lucas stood there with his hands in his pockets, glancing around with a look of disdain. My face instantly darkened. Our old family home wasn’t designed in a modern style; much of it retained its original, antique charm. But the furniture in the house consisted of priceless antique pieces. In Sarah’s eyes, however, they were just worthless old junk. Seeing I didn’t respond, Sarah felt embarrassed and stepped forward, tugging at my arm. “I’m talking to you! Did you hear me?” I scoffed, shaking off her hand. “Not only did I hear you, I saw you.” My eyes fixed on Lucas. Seeing the hostility in my gaze, Sarah immediately stepped in front of him. “Lucas came because he was worried about me coming back alone. He’s just here to keep me company.” “I also wanted to introduce you. He was the manager for all those projects we partnered on before. You can talk to him about investment opportunities.” I didn’t respond directly, just sat on the couch, not even raising my head. “You came back and said all that nonsense. Did you even say hello to my parents?” She froze, only then noticing my parents sitting beside me. This was only her second time meeting my parents. Sarah reluctantly turned her face, glanced at Lucas, and mumbled a “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Knight” to my parents. My parents’ happy faces instantly stiffened. We had been married for seven years. She had only addressed my parents as “Mr. and Mrs. Knight” twice. Other times, she simply demanded money from my parents without any form of address. I scoffed, looking at her with cold eyes. “If you don’t want to call them Mom and Dad, then don’t.” She thought I was indulging her yet again, and a triumphant smile bloomed on her face. But she didn’t expect me to take the divorce papers from the cabinet and hand them to her. “They’re not your parents, and this isn’t your home. Sign them.”

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It was our seventh wedding anniversary. My mother-in-law was cooking in the kitchen, and my daughter was playing in the living room. I was charging my drunk husband’s phone when the screen suddenly lit up. It was a SnapChat message. The contact name was “Little Ember”: “Bro, can you still make it tonight? I bought new sheets, the burgundy kind you like.” I swiped open the screen. He had a saved folder in SnapChat called 【Ember’s Wish】. I tapped on it. Ninety-nine photos. Ninety-nine different women. Ninety-nine opened condom wrappers, neatly spread out on his white bedsheets. I stood rooted to the spot, trembling all over. In the living room, my husband drunkenly hugged our daughter, calling out, “Daddy loves you the most.” I smiled at my mother-in-law and said, “Mrs. Davis, I’m going out to buy some soy sauce.” It took me forty-seven seconds to get from our front door to downstairs. In those forty-seven seconds, I replayed every single frame of my seven-year marriage in my mind. His name was Mark, and I met him on a blind date. Back then, I had just left the military. My father was critically ill, my mother had remarried, and I was all alone in the world. When he was pursuing me, he said, “Alice, your first half of life has been too hard. Let me make the second half easy for you.” I gave up my highly sought-after federal job placement, a benefit of my military service, to his younger brother, all because of that one sentence. I sold the old house my father left me to help him get startup capital for his business. I transformed myself from a scout who could carry sixty pounds and cover twelve miles cross-country into a mere housewife. And what did I get in return? He was with “Mistress #1” in a hotel room on a night when I was throwing up so hard I had stomach bleeding from morning sickness. I was in labor for eighteen hours in the delivery room, while he was accompanying “Mistress #12” to her prenatal check-up. For our daughter’s naming ceremony, the gold charm he gave her was just plated. The real one, the solid gold piece, was around “Mistress #38’s” neck. I stood by the apartment building entrance and tapped on the video I had just recorded. Ninety-nine photos, with clear timestamps. From March 17, 2020, the night before our wedding. To February 28, 2026, three o’clock this afternoon. He took the last photo in the spare bedroom while I was in the kitchen. The wrapper was strawberry flavored. I took a deep breath and dialed a number. “General Thorne, it’s Alice.” There was a three-second silence on the other end, then a deep, resonant voice spoke. “Alice? You finally decided to contact me.” I couldn’t help it; my eyes stung. Eight years ago, I saved an old man during a border mission. I didn’t know who he was then, only that he’d been trapped in a collapsed tunnel for three days and three nights. I carried him for six kilometers in a heavy downpour. Later, I learned he was a highly decorated General from a major command. He told me then, “Alice, if you ever have any trouble, call me anytime.” Eight years. I had never made that call. I always thought I could manage my life on my own. “General, I need a lawyer,” I said. “For a divorce case.” “Also, I want to rejoin the military.” The voice on the other end simply said, “Okay.” After hanging up, I looked up at our seventh-floor window. The crooked holiday decorations Lily had pasted on the window for Christmas were still there. My phone lit up. It was a message from Mark: 【Honey, did you buy the soy sauce? Dad says you’ve been out for a long time.】 【Lily’s asking when you’re coming back to watch TV.】 I stared at the text and smiled. When I got home, Mark was sitting on the couch, watching a reality show with Lily. He saw me walk in and eagerly came to greet me. “What took you so long? I thought you got lost.” Lost? I could find my way in a primeval forest, yet I was completely lost for seven years in the marriage you gave me. “The grocery store downstairs was closed, so I had to walk an extra block,” I said, handing him the soy sauce. He took the bottle and turned towards the kitchen. Watching his back, I suddenly felt like he was a stranger.

In the kitchen, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Davis, was dropping meatballs into the hot oil. Mark stood by the stove, looking down at his phone. I stood at the kitchen doorway, watching him type. He looked up, meeting my gaze. His face stiffened. “Wh-what’s wrong?” I smiled. “Nothing. It’s just… you haven’t smiled like that in a long time.” His expression changed. I didn’t say anything more and turned to set the table. Dinner was lavish tonight; Mrs. Davis’s cooking was always excellent. Mark served me food, served Lily, toasted his parents, playing the role of a perfect husband, perfect father, perfect son. I looked at him and suddenly asked, “Oh, by the way, where’s your backup phone? I wanted to track a package this afternoon, but I couldn’t find it.” He paused. “Oh, that one? The battery was dead, so I threw it out.” “Threw it out?” “Yeah, I wasn’t using it anyway.” He looked down at his plate, avoiding my eyes. I nodded, not pressing the issue. After dinner, Lily pulled me to the balcony to look at the stars. She lay on my lap, looking up at me with her little face. “Mommy, will Daddy take us to Disney this year? He said he would last year, and the year before that too.” I looked down at my daughter’s bright, shining eyes. She was five years old. In those five years, Mark had taken “Mistress #1” through “Mistress #99” to vacation in Miami, to Japan, to the Maldives. But he had never once taken Lily and me to Disney. “We will go,” I said, stroking her head. But not with him. Lily fell asleep in my arms. Holding her, I remembered the year I retired from the military, the General asked me, “Alice, what’s your dream?” I said, “I want a home.” My phone vibrated. It was a text message from an unknown number: 【Dear Ms. Miller, I am the divorce lawyer General Thorne assigned to you.】 【Your husband, Mr. Mark Davis’s bank statements for the past three years have been retrieved.】 【There are seventy-three abnormal transactions totaling $420,000, all for personal luxury goods and hotel stays.】 【Additionally, the old house you purchased before marriage was mortgaged in March 2021. The mortgagor’s signature is Mark Davis, and your signature was forged.】 【Evidence has been secured. Awaiting your next instruction.】 I didn’t reply, I just hugged Lily a little tighter. In the living room, Mark was looking at his phone again. The screen was lit, and he was smiling. Tomorrow was Sunday. He was probably going on a date with some “mistress,” right? And I should go visit some old acquaintances. The next day, Mark woke up early. He kept checking his reflection in the hallway mirror. “I have a client dinner today for the company; I need to meet a big client,” he said, his voice cheerful. “Don’t wait for me for dinner.” I sat at the dining table and asked, “What client? You have to work on a Sunday?” “You wouldn’t understand. It’s times like these that show true sincerity.” He bent down to put on his shoes. “I might have to drink, so I might not be back tonight.” “Okay.” He paused, surprised. Before, whenever he came home late, I would always ask where he went, who he saw, and when he’d be back. By the end, he found me annoying, and I found myself pathetic. “Well, I’m leaving then?” he stood by the door. I looked up at him. “Be careful on the road,” I said. He left. I went into the bedroom and opened his closet. Deep inside, hanging there, was an old jacket he never let me touch. I felt the inner lining and found a black USB drive tucked inside. I plugged the USB drive into the computer, first sending the contents to my lawyer. Then I opened the documents. The original ninety-nine photos. Contact information for ninety-nine women. And an Excel spreadsheet. Name, age, profession, date of meeting, hotel room number, amount spent. He even had a rating system. S-tier: Long-term relationship, invest resources. A-tier: Maintain periodically, invest as needed. B-tier: Short-term experience, one-time investment. C-tier: Not recommended for repeat business. I scrolled the mouse, line by line. In the “S-tier” column, I saw a familiar name. Chloe. Note: Married, stable relationship, no burden. Her husband is deployed long-term, meets 3-4 times a month. Has been ongoing for four years. Four years. I slowly leaned back in the chair. My phone rang.

It was a message from Mr. Peterson, my lawyer: 【Ms. Miller, I have received the contents of the USB drive you provided.】 【The evidence chain regarding the marital property transfer and forged signatures is complete.】 【Additionally, your request to rejoin the military has been approved.】 【You can process your re-enlistment paperwork after May 1st.】 I looked up, gazing out the window. Downstairs, Mark’s car slowly drove out of the community. A woman was sitting in the passenger seat. I opened Lily’s room. She was still asleep, hugging her rabbit doll that was missing an ear. Mark had given it to her on her second birthday. That day, he said he had to work overtime suddenly and had it delivered by courier. I quietly closed the door. The living room TV was still on, replaying last night’s reality show. The host said, “May all lovers in the world find their happy ending.” On Monday evening, Mark returned. He carried a faint, unfamiliar perfume scent and a smudge of lipstick at the corner of his mouth. He claimed a female client was too enthusiastic during a business dinner. I didn’t expose him. But when I put his clean socks back in his closet, I quietly retrieved a second memory card from the lining of that jacket. This card contained only one video. It was filmed on June 18, 2022. In the video, he was in a hotel bed, embracing a woman in a red dress. The camera focused on the nightstand. An opened condom wrapper lay on it. The woman laughed and asked, “Aren’t you afraid your wife will find out?” He laughed. “So what if she finds out? She’s an ex-soldier, no family support, no connections. Where would she go without me?” “Besides, her scout skills were long gone, worn out in the kitchen.” I turned off my phone. His seven years of infidelity, I had collected all the evidence in just three days. The next day, Mrs. Davis said she was going back to her hometown to visit relatives and asked if I wanted to go. I said Lily had a bit of a cough, so I wouldn’t. Mark insisted on driving his mother. He eagerly carried her bags and helped her downstairs, looking like a devoted son. After they left, I took Lily to our neighbor’s house. Then I entered Mark’s study. Ten minutes later, I found a brown envelope in a hidden compartment behind his bookshelf. Inside were two insurance policies. Policyholder: Mark Davis. The first policy listed “Chloe” as the insured. The second policy listed “Leo” as the insured. The name of his four-year-old illegitimate son. Both policies were purchased on my daughter’s birthday. I picked up my phone and sent a message to Mr. Peterson: 【He bought insurance for his illegitimate son. Can this be used as evidence of bigamy?】 Mr. Peterson replied instantly: 【Yes. And in the Excel spreadsheet you provided earlier, Chloe is noted as “married.” If her husband files a lawsuit, Mark Davis could be charged with criminal interference with a military marriage. We are currently verifying her husband’s identity.】 Criminal interference with a military marriage. That alone could land him in jail for three years. I turned off my phone and stood in the center of the study, looking at our wedding photo on the wall. On Monday, Mark was sharply dressed in a suit, his leather shoes gleaming. He said the company had a meeting and he needed to meet investors, so he had to dress formally. I said okay. After he left, I changed into my old military uniform, which had been at the bottom of a trunk for three years. No insignia, no lapel pins, but the fit was still there, and so was my spirit. At ten in the morning, I stood at the entrance of the General’s office building. I was met by a young Lieutenant, about thirty years old. “Ms. Miller?” He gave a crisp military salute. “General Thorne has been waiting for you.” I followed him down a long corridor. Photographs of past Generals hung on both sides of the hallway. I paused in front of one. The man in the photo wore a General’s dress uniform, his hair completely white, his gaze piercing. “Alice,” his voice was hoarse. “You’ve grown some gray hairs.” My throat tightened, and I stood at attention, saluting. “General Thorne, sir.” He waved his hand. “Cut the formalities. Come in and sit down.” He pointed to a chair. “Tell me, how far along are things with your situation?”

I took out the evidence I had collected from my bag. He reviewed each piece, his expression growing darker with every item. He put down the last memory card and looked up at me. “Do you know what I admire most about you?” I shook my head. “Eight years ago, when you carried me for those six kilometers, you never once complained about being tired.” “I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Every time I opened my eyes, I saw you pushing forward, rain streaming down your face, and you’d just wipe it away with the back of your hand and keep going.” He paused. “Back then, I thought, this soldier carries a mountain in her heart. She doesn’t need anyone to shelter her.” I lowered my gaze. “But General, I forgot that later.” “No, you didn’t forget,” he said, pushing the evidence back towards me. “You just put it aside for a while. Now you’ve picked it up again.” He didn’t ask about my marriage, or how I’d spent those seven years. He just picked up the phone and dialed an internal line: “Roberts, get me Peterson, my lawyer who specializes in financial cases. Also, check if there’s a family member named Chloe among the active-duty officers in our command, whose husband is deployed long-term.” He hung up and looked at me. “I’ll investigate the military marital interference aspect for you.” “As for rejoining the unit, you can finalize it after May 1st. Your old scout platoon has expanded, and they need experienced leaders.” I stood up, wanting to salute, but it didn’t feel enough. Finally, I just said, “General, thank you.” He waved his hand. “Don’t thank me. You saved yourself.” It started snowing as I walked out of the office building. I stood at the doorway, reaching out to catch a snowflake. My phone rang. It was a message from Mark. 【Honey, I won a massage chair. It’ll be delivered next week.】 【Oh, do you remember Chloe? The one who used to live downstairs from us. I heard her husband came back, and they’re going through a divorce these days.】 【I really didn’t expect such a seemingly honest woman to do something like that.】 I stared at the screen and didn’t reply. Half a month later, the court summons was delivered to Mark’s company. His face went stark white on the spot, and he knocked over his coffee. At three in the afternoon, he called me like a madman. The first call, I didn’t answer. The second, I hung up. The third, I blocked. He called again from a different number. “Alice! Are you crazy? What are you accusing me of? What did I do for you to treat me like this?” I leaned back on the sofa and spoke, one word at a time: “What did you do?” “When you bought Chloe her apartment, you used my card.” “When you took her to Japan for a vacation, you used the vacation days I earned from my military transfer.” “When you bought insurance for your illegitimate son, the insured was his name.” “In these seven years, you took four million two hundred thousand dollars from our home. All of it was our joint marital property!” Silence on the other end of the line. After a long while, his voice changed. No longer angry, no longer accusatory, but pleading: “Alice, I know I was wrong. Give me a chance; let’s talk this through properly.” “Withdraw the summons, and we’ll settle this privately. I’ll give you all the assets, the house, the cars, everything. I don’t want anything.” “Think about Lily; can you bear to let her grow up without a dad?” I scoffed. “Mark.” “Listen closely.” “Whether Lily has a dad or not isn’t up to me.” “It’s what *you* decided seven years ago when you walked out of our wedding reception to go find Mistress #1.” I hung up. Then I blocked all his numbers. At eight in the evening, Mr. Peterson sent a message: 【Chloe’s husband’s identity has been verified.】 【He is an active-duty Major in a field unit, deployed long-term, with twenty days of family leave per year.】 【He arrived in the city this afternoon and has fully entrusted us with representing him in court. The evidence for criminal interference with a military marriage is complete.】 I put my phone aside and continued reading a picture book to Lily. She snuggled in my arms, pointing at the bunny in the book. “Mommy, where did Daddy Bunny go?” I paused. “Daddy Bunny went to a place where he needs to correct his mistakes.” “Will he come back?” “No.”

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1 We were in a conference room at our vendor’s office when the guy handling our account leaned back, looked me up and down, and suddenly dropped this gem: “Karen, you look seriously intense. Like a straight-up witch.” “And why don’t you wear makeup? It makes you look ancient.” I cut him a look. “Did my company pay your agency just so you could insult me?” He immediately laughed it off, waving his hand dismissively. “Chill, I was just joking! You can’t take a joke? You actually look decent.” My face remained a mask of pure ice. “Did we pay you to rate my appearance, either?” Then, right there in front of the entire room, I pulled out my phone and dialed his boss. “Mr. Reynolds? This is Karen Collins from Lumina Group. We need to talk.” The room went dead silent. The nervous tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Even Rick, who had been grinning a second ago, went pale. Panic flashed in his eyes. “Whoa, Karen, come on. It was just a joke. No need to blow this out of proportion.” I raised a single finger to my lips, signaling him to shut his mouth. Joshua Reynolds’ voice came through the speaker. “Ms. Collins! What can I do for you? Please, fire away.” “Mr. Reynolds, your account manager, Rick Briggs, has repeatedly subjected me to unprofessional verbal attacks during today’s meeting. He has made derogatory remarks about my appearance and personal character, which is a direct and severe breach of Section 5.2 of our Behavior Guidelines in Exhibit C of our contract.” “Lumina Group is immediately initiating the breach of contract protocol. I expect a written explanation and a comprehensive remediation plan from Aurelia Media within twenty-four hours.” “Furthermore, I demand a formal, public apology from Rick Briggs in front of the entire project team.” The room collectively gasped. Rick’s face turned a violent shade of crimson. “You’re making things up! You’re blowing this way out of context! I never…” I didn’t let him finish. “I am speaking to your direct superior to resolve a contract issue. Why are you interrupting? Where is your discipline? Is this the kind of training Aurelia Media provides its staff?” Joshua, hearing the icy authority in my voice, realized his multi-million dollar contract was on the line. He scrambled to placate me, promising a satisfactory resolution if I just gave him a little time to investigate. I gave a curt nod and hung up. Within three minutes, the vendor’s team cleared out of the conference room like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Since my team had been dragged into this mess, I ordered a round of high-end afternoon tea and pastries to let everyone decompress. Penny, our junior designer, practically bounced over to my chair, her eyes shining with pure worship. “Karen, you are literally my hero! That was the most badass thing I’ve ever seen a boss do!” “You have no idea how much Rick has been getting on my nerves. He does zero actual work, but he loves making sleazy comments to the female staff under the guise of ‘joking.’ And if anyone gets upset, he plays the victim, saying ‘Oh, it’s just a joke!’ He’s a total creep.” “Last week, he told me I should dye my hair because black makes me look depressing. Like, mind your own business, asshole!” “And he did the same to Hannah. He told her she has thick thighs and should only wear long skirts to hide them because pants look hideous on her. Disgusting pig.” My brows drew together. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? We are the paying clients here. Since when do we pay vendors to harass our team?” Penny bit her lip. “We just didn’t want to cause a scene. You know how it is, sometimes it feels easier to just bite your tongue and get through the day.” I shook my head. “We don’t go looking for trouble, but we sure as hell don’t run from it. If someone pushes you, you push back.” The rest of the women on my team nodded fiercely, eager to testify about Rick’s constant workplace harassment. Half an hour later, my phone rang. It was Joshua. I pressed the speaker button. Joshua’s voice boomed through, entirely too casual and dismissive: “Hey, Karen. I just looked into the whole situation, and honestly, it seems like a big misunderstanding.” “Young Rick is still green, you know? He speaks before he thinks, but he didn’t mean anything by it.” “As a senior director, surely you wouldn’t want to ruin a kid’s career over a silly slip of the tongue, right?” “Our companies have partnered on so many successful launches. We shouldn’t let a minor hiccup sour a great relationship.” “But don’t worry, I gave him a stern talking-to. I guarantee it won’t happen again!” 2 I tapped my fingernails against the polished conference table, looking around at my team. Their expressions had soured. Of course. Joshua wanted to sweep this under the rug with a slap on the wrist. I let out a cold laugh. “Mr. Reynolds, I think you’ve fundamentally misunderstood the situation.” “I didn’t call you as a friend looking for an apology. I called you as a representative of Lumina Group to formally notify you of a contractual breach. Whether professionally or personally, Rick Briggs must face severe, documented disciplinary action.” “An excuse like ‘he’s young and foolish’ does not cut it.” “If Aurelia Media is staffed by unprofessional children, then Lumina Group will have to seriously re-evaluate the viability of our partnership.” “As the client, I believe we reserve the right to choose partners who actually respect basic professional standards.” “We are done for today. Until your agency delivers a proper, formal resolution, there is no need for further communication.” Without waiting for his response, I cut the call. “Everyone finished eating? Good. Let’s pack up.” “Sam, the moment we get back, pull up the files on the other vendors who made the shortlist. I want a fresh round of evaluations ready by tomorrow morning.” “On it, Karen. I’ll have the packets on your desk before five,” Sam replied. “Let’s go. What a joke of an agency. Imagine trying to insult the client who literally funds your payroll.” As we gathered our tablets and prepared to leave, the conference room door burst open. “Get in there and apologize, right now!” Aurelia’s account director barked, shoving a thoroughly miserable Rick into the room. The director immediately turned to me, bowing and scraping with a desperate smile. “Ms. Collins, please wait! This was entirely our fault. Mr. Reynolds just called and gave us a piece of his mind.” “Especially Rick here. He lost his mind and spoke out of turn. I’ve brought him back to make things right immediately!” He gave Rick a hard nudge, glaring at him to start speaking. Rick’s face was a picture of pure, unadulterated resentment. He looked like a man being dragged to the gallows by the very ‘witch’ he had mocked. He refused to look me in the eye, keeping his head tilted back with a rigid, arrogant posture. When he spoke, his voice was flat and dripping with insincerity. “Ms. Collins, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I’m a straightforward guy, and I didn’t mean any harm. It was just a casual comment, but since it apparently caused you some emotional distress, I apologize.” “But I also hope you won’t take everything so seriously in the future. Overanalyzing things can warp people’s intentions and create unnecessary drama for everyone.” “As a high-level executive, surely you won’t hold a grudge against a low-level employee like me, right?” I stared at him. Was he actually serious? He was accusing me of being fragile, oversensitive, and vindictive, all while hiding behind the shield of a fake apology. And this was supposed to be a resolution? “I do not accept your apology.” Rick’s eyes flared with rage, glaring at me as if to ask, What more do you want? “My appearance is none of your business, and whether I wear makeup is my own choice and right. As a subordinate from a vendor company and a complete stranger, your unsolicited comments on my looks were vulgar, classless, and utterly unprofessional.” “I’ve also learned you are a repeat offender. Do you think every woman you work with is a target for your sleazy banter? Who gave you that right? Who gave you that kind of confidence?” “Don’t try to mask your disrespect as a joke. We are not friends, and you do not have my permission to speak to me like that.” “If your parents and teachers failed to teach you basic manners, then the world will gladly do it for them.” My words left him completely speechless, his face burning red. Behind me, my team couldn’t help but murmur in quiet satisfaction. Ignoring the account director’s frantic pleas, I walked out of the office, my team following in lockstep. On the ride back, Penny looked a bit anxious. “Karen, if we pull out of this project now, how are we going to explain it to the board?” I gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t have walked out if I didn’t already have a backup plan.” 3 Back at the office, I spent two hours analyzing Aurelia’s main competitors and their product offerings. Once I had a solid strategy mapped out, I knocked on the door of our VP, Mr. Harrison. I walked him through the entire incident with meticulous detail, presenting my proposal to transition to a new vendor. I also pointed out several red flags I had noticed in Aurelia’s operations. In the past, we had overlooked their minor slip-ups for the sake of convenience and long-term stability. But if they were willing to assign a completely incompetent, disrespectful idiot to handle a multi-million dollar account, it proved their internal management was decaying. Mr. Harrison leaned back in his chair, weighed the risks, and nodded. “You have my full support on this, Karen. Take the lead and handle it.” I felt a wave of relief. With the green light from the top, I was free to play hardball. Meanwhile, Joshua Reynolds kept blowing up my phone. His voicemails were a broken record of excuses, promises of structural changes, and begging for a lunch meeting. I ignored them all. My time was far too valuable to waste on his empty promises. By the next day, I had blocked his number entirely, leaving the executives at Aurelia Media to sweat in their own juices. The following morning, I walked into the office to find Penny rushing toward my desk, waving her phone furiously. “Karen! Look at this! That absolute bastard Rick is smearing you on social media!” I took her phone. Rick had posted a series of updates on his public feed, accompanied by insulting caricatures of old, hideous witches: “Are vendors not human anymore? Are clients supposed to be gods? Some power-tripping, bitter bitch is trying to ruin my life just because she can’t get a man! Unbelievable!” “Talk about mentally unstable. Imagine getting someone fired over a harmless joke. Get some therapy, lady!” “Women dress up and wear makeup for men anyway. Why is she so pressed? Can’t even handle a compliment!” “She’s clearly projecting her own insecurities because she’s old and ugly. One comment and she loses her mind.” “If she didn’t have that title, nobody would even look at her twice. Desperate old maid.” In the comment section, a friend had asked what happened. Rick had replied: “Just some power-tripping client who got her feelings hurt because I didn’t flirt back. She’s ancient, ugly, and totally unhinged. I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole!” “Haha, I sell my services, not my body.” So this was the “sincere reflection and deep regret” Joshua had promised me. I let out a cold laugh. “Penny, take screenshots of everything and send them to my email. I have a little gift for Joshua.” I forwarded the screenshots straight to Joshua’s personal inbox. Within sixty seconds, my phone started ringing with Joshua’s ID. I didn’t even look at it. After twenty missed calls, he finally gave up. Over the next two days, as it became clear we were actively shopping for new vendors, panic rippled through Aurelia Media. Lumina Group was their largest client, accounting for over two-thirds of their annual revenue. Losing this contract would trigger a financial collapse. When I checked Rick’s social media again, his feed had been scrubbed clean. Penny, who had a vast network of industry friends, came back with some juicy gossip. “Rick is completely ruined. The board at Aurelia absolutely destroyed him. Everyone in his office is blaming him for jeopardizing the contract. He’s not getting any bonuses, and rumor has it they’re drafting his termination papers as we speak.” I listened without saying much. When Rick was busy throwing insults, he probably never expected that the “witch” he mocked had the power to make his career vanish.

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1 Brent returned from another trip with gifts for Evelyn and her daughter, Eva. This time, news of his “grand gesture” broke online before he even landed—a medieval Scottish castle bought to fulfill their princess fantasies. He walked in frustrated. “The media ruins everything,” he muttered. “I spent weeks securing that estate, and some reporter steals the surprise.” I cut him off. “Where’s my gift?” He blinked, then tossed a cheap plastic magnet onto the table. “Figured you’d love another souvenir. Go on, guess the city.” I stared at the mass-produced junk, its barcode still peeling off. Sixty-eight trips. Sixty-eight magnets. Meanwhile, Evelyn and Eva got custom jewelry, antiques, and now a castle. The exhaustion settled into my bones. Right in front of him, I tore every identical magnet off the fridge and threw them in the trash. “Cheap plastic garbage,” I said, a bitter smile on my lips. “What made you think I ever liked these?” Brent frowned, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation. “Audrey, don’t be so childish,” he said. “If you don’t like them, tell me what you want, and I will bring it back next time.” I met his gaze, my voice flat. “Do you even know what I like, Brent?” “What do you like, then?” “When you bought those gifts for Evelyn, did you ever have to ask what she liked?” He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. That was why every gift he gave her was a thrilling surprise. In eight years, Brent had managed to anticipate every single one of her desires, yet he knew absolutely nothing about his own wife. Brent chuckled, dismissing the tension as if it were a minor annoyance. “It has been so long, Audrey. Are you really still jealous of her? I told you before, we have to keep Evelyn’s emotions stable. If she spirals, what will happen to her daughter? Right?” We? Yes, I had been dragged into this twisted sense of duty too. Evelyn had suffered from severe depression after her messy divorce, and her mental health remained fragile. Because of her, and because of Eva, Brent had to be on call twenty-four hours a day. He would leave at a moment’s notice, whether it was a holiday, in the middle of our private moments, when I was sick, or on the day our five-month-old daughter died. One phone call from Evelyn, and he would run to her. And my only job was to endure. To swallow the loneliness, the rage, and the grief. Seeing my silence, Brent stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. “Alright, next time I go abroad, write me a wishlist. I promise to buy everything on it, okay?” I wanted to tell him not to bother, but before the words could leave my mouth, the front door clicked open. “Uncle Brent! When are you taking Mommy and me to our castle?” It was Eva and Evelyn. Brent had given them the security code to our house without my consent. He had said, “Our home is Evelyn’s home too, Audrey. She should feel welcome.” Only now did I realize that this was indeed their home, and I was the intruder. Brent immediately let go of me and scooped Eva up in his arms. “How about tomorrow?” My chest tightened with a sharp, physical ache. I thought of our honeymoon, a trip we had planned for eight years but never took. Every year, when I asked him about it, he said he was too busy. He was too busy for me, yet he could always find the time to whisk Evelyn and Eva away on a whim. “So soon? I haven’t even packed yet,” Evelyn murmured, gently swatting Brent’s shoulder, her eyes brimming with delight. “No need to pack. I’ll have everything bought and waiting for you,” Brent said, smiling. Watching the three of them, they looked like a perfect, happy family. It made my eyes sting. Evelyn finally seemed to notice me, stepping forward to warmly take my hand. “Audrey, you should come with us! The more, the merrier. Brent is so wasteful, buying such a massive place. There is no way we can use all that space. You can choose a room for yourself, Audrey, your own little corner.” Her words reminded me of the tiny magnet in the trash. A grand castle for them, and a single, small room for me. That was my worth in their eyes, and in his. I pulled my hand back, my voice cold. “I’m not going.” Evelyn’s face fell, her expression turning hurt and apologetic. “Are you upset with me, Audrey?” Brent frowned, drawing Evelyn behind him. “Audrey, don’t take your moods out on others. I’ll take them for just two days, and you can use the time to cool down. Send me what you want.” “Uncle Brent, I got a new princess dress! Come see it at our house!” Eva urged, pulling at his sleeve. Brent agreed. He hadn’t even been home for an hour, and he was already leaving with them. I called out to him before he could step through the door. “Brent, do you even know what tomorrow is?” “What?” Brent looked back, genuinely confused. “It is our daughter’s memorial.” 2 Brent froze, a look of conflict finally crossing his face. Seeing his hesitation, Eva’s lower lip trembled, and she began to cry. “Are we not going? No, Uncle Brent! Eva has been waiting for days! You promised!” Evelyn pulled Eva back, her voice firm but gentle. “Eva, stop. Audrey has something very important to do with your uncle Brent today.” They called me Audrey, but they called him Uncle Brent, as if he and I had no relation at all. And Brent had never once corrected them. Brent looked at Eva’s tear-stained face, then turned to me with a sigh of helplessness. “The itinerary is already set, Audrey. It’s difficult to reschedule. How about I make it up to you? I’ll head straight to the cemetery to visit Grace the moment I get back.” He was suggesting we postpone a memorial. It was laughable, really. He only dared to suggest it because Grace could no longer cry or call him “Daddy.” But she was his flesh and blood, only five months old when she passed. It had been six years since we lost her, and I wondered how many times he had actually thought of her. Not a single toy he bought Eva ever made its way to Grace’s grave. He had even forgotten her memorial. My hands shook at my sides. I took a deep, shuddering breath and finally spoke. “Fine.” Grace probably didn’t want to see this kind of father anyway. Brent sighed in relief, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you for understanding, Audrey. Pick any gift you want, and I’ll find it, no matter how far I have to go.” I looked at the drawer of the coffee table, a quiet decision solidifying in my mind. I forced a faint smile. “Go on then.” They left. I stood in the quiet living room for a long time before opening the drawer to pull out the divorce agreement. It had been sitting there for two months, drafted the day after I received his last cheap souvenir. Back then, a tiny shred of hope still lingered in my heart. I had told myself that if Brent showed some real care on his next trip, I would rip the papers up. Now, there was no need. This agreement would be the gift I requested. The next morning, Brent left early. He pressed a light kiss to my forehead before slipping out, the one ritual he never forgot, the last soft spot in my heart. My eyelashes fluttered, but I pretended to sleep. Now, even that soft spot had turned to stone. Once he was gone, I got out of bed. I packed a basket with toys and sweets and drove to the cemetery alone. Six years ago, during a raging storm, Evelyn had called to say she was terrified, and Brent had rushed to her side. There were no cars, cabs were impossible to find, and the emergency lines were completely busy. Out of options, I had wrapped my feverish baby girl in a waterproof bag, strapped her to my back, and run through the pouring rain to the hospital. By the time I arrived, it was too late. Brent didn’t see her lifeless body until the next day. He wept and said he was sorry, but the funeral was rushed because Eva had fallen ill, and he had to go nurse her. “He wasn’t a good father, Grace,” I whispered, kneeling before the headstone. “Don’t think of him, it will only make you sad.” “You’re right. I wasn’t a good father. I’m sorry.” The voice behind me made my entire body freeze. I turned around in disbelief to find Brent standing there, holding a plush rabbit, his head bowed. “Weren’t you supposed to be on a flight?” I asked. “The flight was grounded due to the weather. The trip has been delayed.” So, it was because of a flight delay, not guilt. Knowing the truth actually made me feel lighter. He knelt beside me, placing the plush rabbit down. I recognized it instantly. It was the stuffed animal he had bought Eva last holiday season. “Isn’t this the toy you got for Eva?” I asked, my voice rising. “Yes, but she has too many toys to play with. This one is practically brand new.” My eyes burned with unshed tears. “You brought a secondhand toy that someone else didn’t want for our daughter?” “I didn’t think about it that way,” Brent said, looking baffled. “Do you want me to go buy a new one right now?” I snatched the rabbit and threw it back into his arms. “No need. Grace doesn’t want it.” Brent’s face darkened as he held the toy. “Audrey, we shouldn’t fight in front of our daughter’s grave.” “We shouldn’t. But you’ve done plenty of things you shouldn’t have, or our daughter wouldn’t have died in the first place!” I stood up abruptly, casting one last look at the headstone before walking away. Brent caught up to me at the cemetery gates, grabbing my arm. “Stop being angry,” he pleaded. “Evelyn felt terrible for holding me back, so she cooked a whole dinner for you. Let me take you there.” “No.” “Audrey, can you stop making a scene? We are trying our best to make it up to you, especially Evelyn. She is struggling with her own illness, yet she’s still thinking of you!” “Oh, so you’ve always known you were hurting me?” I asked, looking at him with mock surprise. “Then why keep doing it? Do you think a plate of food or a few cheap gifts can erase the damage? Can it bring my daughter back, or make me forget the scars?” 3 Brent froze, the grip on my wrist tightening. For the first time, I saw real guilt and panic flicker in his eyes. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. “Audrey, I was careless. I neglected you. Let’s not go to Evelyn’s. Let’s have dinner, just the two of us. I’ll spend the whole day with you.” We hadn’t gone on a date in years. He knew it, but he had waited until our marriage was in ruins to try and change. I didn’t refuse him. I wanted to see just how far his sudden guilt would carry him. We drove away from the cemetery, and he took me to a small, quiet diner we used to frequent when we were dating. It had been seven years since we last stepped foot inside, but the rustic decor hadn’t changed at all. The owner came over to greet us, his eyes widening when he saw me. “Well, look at that! After all these years, this lovely girl is still by your side!” I froze. Brent quickly interrupted, his expression tense. “Actually, we’re married now.” “Really? Then the other woman and child you’ve been bringing here these past few years…” Before the owner could finish, his wife slapped his shoulder. “Mind your business and get back to the kitchen! Sorry, dear, my husband gets confused easily. Don’t mind him.” But I knew he wasn’t confused. The other woman and child were Evelyn and Eva. Even this sanctuary of our past had been overwritten by them, and Brent was the one who did it. It was fine. Leaving would be easier if nothing was left untainted. “Audrey, don’t overthink it,” Brent whispered quickly. “Evelyn is a picky eater, and this is one of the few places she actually likes. That’s why I brought her here.” “I don’t own the restaurant,” I replied, looking down at the menu. “Bring whoever you want.” Brent’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t press the matter. He turned to the owner’s wife and ordered my old favorite dishes, all of them spicy. “Actually, I can’t eat spicy food anymore,” I said. “Let’s get something mild.” Brent stared at me. “Since when?” I offered him a thin smile. “Since my tumor surgery.” Three years ago, I had a benign stomach tumor removed. When I told Brent about the diagnosis, he was on vacation in Paris with Evelyn. “Since it’s benign, I won’t rush back,” he had said over the phone. “I’ll ask my parents to look after you.” The medical consent form had listed a fifty percent risk of complications, but he had ignored it, or perhaps he had never bothered to read it. My parents had stayed with me until I was discharged. Brent’s face drained of color. “Why didn’t you tell me? If I had known, I would have come back.” “There was no need. We barely eat together anyway.” This dinner would likely be our last. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down. “I’ll make sure to be there for you from now on.” I offered no response. When the food arrived, it tasted like ash in my mouth. Food only tastes good when you’re sharing it with the right person. Sitting across from someone who made my chest ache, every bite felt like a chore. As I swallowed the last bite, Brent’s phone rang. It was Evelyn, her voice trembling and wet with tears. “Brent, Eva couldn’t wait for you guys. She tried to climb onto the table to eat and got burned by the hot soup. Brent, what should I do?” Brent stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor. “Didn’t I tell you not to wait for us?” “But Audrey didn’t come, and I felt so guilty. Brent, is this my fault? Am I just a burden?” Brent broke into a cold sweat. “Calm down. I’m coming right over.” He hung up and turned to me, his gaze suddenly cold. “If you hadn’t thrown a tantrum today, this wouldn’t have happened. Are you satisfied with this kind of payback?” 4 Brent rushed out into the pouring rain, his figure quickly disappearing into the gray sheets of water. I let out a soft laugh, picked up my fork, and kept eating. The owner’s wife walked by, and I looked up at her. “The food is still as wonderful as it was years ago.” She pulled a tissue from her apron and gently handed it to me. “Thank you, dear. But let me get you a tissue, otherwise the food will taste too salty.” I reached up to touch my cheek. I was crying. I still hadn’t managed to hold back the tears. It was pathetic, really. I took a cab back to the house. The balcony window had been left open, and the plants we had bought together at the nursery were broken and drowned by the storm. They wouldn’t survive. Brent had never cared for them, leaving all the watering and pruning to me. Now, I didn’t have to care anymore. I opened the closet. Most of the clothes inside were mine. Over the years, Brent’s wardrobe had slowly migrated to Evelyn’s place, piece by piece. I packed my belongings into a single suitcase, placed the signed divorce papers on the coffee table, and sent him a text. “Brent, I’ve decided on my gift. The wishlist is at the house. Swing by and pick it up before you leave.” Within a minute, my phone rang. I answered, and Brent’s frantic voice came through. “Aren’t you even going to ask how Evelyn and Eva are doing?” “You’ll take good care of them,” I said. He was silent for a long time, struggling to keep his temper in check. “Take a photo of the list and text it to me. I have to look after them for a few days, so I won’t be coming back to the house.” “Then come get it when you’re finished.” “Why can’t you just send a photo?” I didn’t answer. I hung up the phone. A second later, his text arrived: “Are you really still trying to make things difficult for me?” “You can buy an entire castle in Scotland,” I replied. “But swinging by the house to pick up a list is too much of a chore?” He didn’t reply for a long time. Finally, a single text came through: “I’m sorry.” I swiped the notification away, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out the door. I was born and raised upstate in Vermont. I had moved to this bustling southern city only for him. Now, it was finally time to go home. During my first few days back in Vermont, Brent began texting me constantly. He told me what he ate, what he did, and how Evelyn’s condition had stabilized. He wrote that Eva’s burns were healing well, that they had postponed the trip to Scotland, and that he would buy me a real gift on his next trip. I didn’t reply to any of them, nor did I answer his calls. Then, a week later, he sent another message. “I’m home today. I bought your favorite cheesecake from the bakery. I really want to see what’s on your wishlist. Are you asking for the stars?” He was trying to joke, but I knew he wouldn’t be laughing for long.

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