For the ninety-ninth time, Austin drove straight to my boss Brooke’s mansion. And just like every other time, he blamed me. “Why didn’t you remind me we missed the turn?” “Whatever. Since we’re already here, I might as well drop these fruits off at Brooke’s place.” Before I could answer, he grabbed the basket of organic fruit we’d bought for my parents and headed straight for Brooke’s front door. I didn’t stop him. After all, this had become our routine. When we were supposed to pick up my wedding dress, he ended up driving to the golf club where Brooke was playing. When I was burning up with a high fever, he took my medicine to the bar where Brooke was having a business dinner. Even on my birthday, he brought Brooke to what was supposed to be our date. “Brooke’s been under a lot of pressure lately,” he’d said. “You’re her assistant. Try to be more understanding.” But he had completely forgotten. Today was my very last day at the company. It was also the day I was packing up and moving out of our shared apartment. Since he loved being there so much, he could stay and be Brooke’s loyal watchdog for the rest of his life. *** ###

I locked the car doors, sat in the driver’s seat, and started the engine. Just then, an email notification popped up on my phone. My resignation was officially approved. HR emailed me: *“Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors, Chloe.”* I stared at the confirmation screen and typed back a simple, *“Thank you.”* A second later, my phone vibrated. It was a voice message from Austin. “Where did you drive the car? Get back here right now.” I paused. Looking at our chat history, there was a long list of unread messages from me that he had ignored. This rare moment of him taking the initiative to text me felt almost surreal. But before I could even process it, his next message popped up: “Go buy a set of electric screwdrivers and bring them over. Brooke doesn’t have any here.” I stared at the screen for a few seconds. So, he hadn’t suddenly realized I wasn’t behind him. He only noticed my absence because he needed someone to run his errands. I scrolled up through our chat history. Every single message from him was about Brooke. *“Give that perfume set you brought back from Paris to Brooke. I’ll buy you a new one later.”* *“Brooke said she wanted Japanese food. I already used your card to book a table for her.”* Austin’s texts to me were always demands. He made the decisions, and he never once thought to ask for my opinion. Then there was the most recent message from a rainy day. I had texted him asking if he could pick me up from the subway station. He replied: *“I’m out meeting clients right now. Just take an Uber.”* But five minutes later, Brooke posted a photo on her Instagram. An umbrella was tilted entirely over her, shielding her as she got into the passenger seat of a car. *“Almost got stuck in the storm. Thank God for my personal chauffeur,”* her caption read. I knew the car’s interior all too well. It was Austin’s. Back then, I kept telling myself that he was just trying to help me build a good relationship with my boss. I thought he was doing it for my career. But my constant understanding only made him push the boundaries further. This time, I didn’t reply. While I was packing up my desk at the office, another text from Austin came in: “Why aren’t you back yet? Brooke wanted French food, so I took her to the restaurant first. Just Uber over and meet us.” This wasn’t the first time. Whenever we made plans to eat out, if I was even slightly late because of work or traffic, Austin would lose his temper and blame me. He never cared about my feelings. “Brooke is your boss. She’s under a lot of pressure, so it’s normal for her to have a bad temper. What’s the big deal if she snaps at you a little? Stop being so dramatic.” *Stop being so dramatic.* That was also what he said when a pipe burst in my apartment, flooding the entire place. I had called him in a panic. And he had said: “I don’t have time to deal with that. Just call a plumber yourself. Stop being so dramatic.” So, I learned to dry the carpets, change the light bulbs, and fix things on my own. I slowly learned to stop relying on him. But when it came to Brooke, he was a completely different person. “Brooke is always so busy with work. If she needs help around her house, I’ll just handle it. Since she lives so close to Chloe, it’s on my way anyway.” I couldn’t understand. Why was helping me “being dramatic,” but helping Brooke was “just on his way”? I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and texted him back: *“You guys go ahead. I’m busy.”* It took him an hour to reply: *“Are you throwing a tantrum again? Chloe, grow up. Stop acting like a child.”* I used to throw tantrums. Last winter, I had a terrible fever in the middle of the night. Shivering under the blankets, I called him and asked him to bring me some medicine. He told me he was on his way to Brooke’s party because Brooke had had too much to drink, and he needed to bring her painkillers and electrolyte drinks. I told him I was really sick too. He stayed silent for two seconds before saying, “You can still make phone calls, so it can’t be that bad. Just call an Uber to the ER. It’s a twenty-minute drive. Hang in there.” That was the first time I felt I couldn’t take it anymore. He was my boyfriend, yet I was never his priority. I broke up with him that night. But he didn’t even argue. He just blocked my number. He knew I loved him too much. He knew I couldn’t leave him. So, he let me cry for two days straight until my tears ran dry. And then, like a fool, I went back to him. Since then, I had never thrown another tantrum. But this time was different. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was done. *** ###

I got back to my apartment. Packed cardboard boxes were stacked up in the hallway, and the living room looked completely empty. Only then did I realize that after seven years of dating, there were barely any traces of Austin in my apartment. Just a pair of dusty slippers and a coffee mug he used once. And I was the one who bought both of them. He had never given me a decent gift. Yet, for Brooke’s birthday, he went out of his way to order a massive bouquet of her favorite red roses. When I asked him about it, he always said, “Those materialistic things are pointless. Real partners don’t care about fancy gifts.” I had questioned him. I had expressed my frustration. But he simply replied, “I only buy gifts for your boss to make you look good in front of her.” I laughed at my own stupidity. My phone vibrated. It was my mom calling. “Hey, Chloe. Have you and Austin decided on a wedding date yet?” Not long ago, our parents had met. My parents were very happy with him, but when it came to setting a date, Austin said he wanted to focus on his career first and that there was no rush. At the time, though disappointed, I tried to be understanding of his career goals. But now, I only felt relieved. If a man constantly drove his car to another woman’s house before marriage, how could I ever trust him to come home to me after? “Mom, we’re not getting married. I’m breaking up with him.” My mom’s voice instantly grew tense. “Why? Did he cheat on you?” “No. I just realized we’re not right for each other.” Silence fell over the line. After all, everyone knew I had loved Austin desperately for seven years. I was the one who chased him first. To get close to him, I joined the outdoor hiking club he liked and hung out at his favorite coffee shops just to “bump into” him. After graduation, he got a job offer in Los Angeles. Without a second thought, I turned down a prestigious recommendation from my professor and took an assistant job at Brooke’s company just to be in the same city as him. My mom was so angry she didn’t speak to me for three days, but I only told her, “Mom, if I lose him, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” Back then, Brooke even joked with me: “Chloe, you are completely whipped. He’s got you locked down.” Brooke used to be a good boss. She looked out for me, and we got along like friends. But no one expected that she would eventually enjoy my boyfriend’s undivided attention without a single shred of guilt. I opened Instagram and saw Brooke’s latest post. It was a video of her romantic dinner. The location was tagged at the high-end French restaurant I had mentioned to Austin dozens of times. The candles flickered, the plates were artfully arranged, and a live piano played in the background. Every time I asked Austin to take me there, he would say, “We’re saving up for a wedding, Chloe. Can you be more practical? A single dinner there costs hundreds of dollars. We can have a candlelit dinner at home.” But now, just because Brooke wanted French food, he took her to the exact restaurant I had been dreaming of. I sank onto the couch, feeling utterly exhausted. Last year, when I bought a heavy wardrobe, I called Austin to ask if he could help me assemble it. He said he had a team-building event and told me to hire a tasker. To save money, I spent the entire night assembling it myself by watching YouTube tutorials. I ended up cutting my hand on a sharp screw. Yet, when Brooke bought new cabinets, Austin took a half-day off from work to help her. “It’s heavy lifting, and Brooke is living alone. As her friend, I should help out,” he had said. I remembered watching him sweat as he worked on her furniture, realizing he looked like a complete stranger to me. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to assemble furniture. He just didn’t want to waste his time on me.

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1 I can smell when a heart turns. Pure love is sweet; when it rots, it reeks of vinegar. This gift made me a fidelity appraiser, hired daily by women to sniff out cheating. Then came an odd request from a student wanting me to test her wealthy sponsor. Fidgeting with her bag, she confessed he flew home at midnight to console her, stayed up talking, and even kissed her while she slept. “Please follow us today,” she asked, smiling shyly. I agreed, missing the malice in her eyes. An hour later, trailing them, I breathed in the thick sweetness of real romance. As I reached for my phone, he turned, and I froze. It was my husband, Hampton. Only a few hours earlier, he had held me in our kitchen, kissing me deeply and promising he would be away on a three-day business trip. My mind went entirely blank. Without even saying goodbye to the client, I hailed a cab and rushed back home. Not long after I arrived, the front door clicked open. Hampton walked in, immediately pulling me into his arms. The air around him was tainted with a faint, sour tang, heavily masked by a strange, floral perfume. I stiffened, my nose wrinkling. “Did you change your cologne?” His arms tightened around me, his body freezing for a fraction of a second. “Oh, the company just hired a new assistant. We had to work closely on a project earlier. I must have picked up her scent. I’ll be more careful.” “A new assistant?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even. A look of genuine pride and fondness washed over his face. “Yes, Erica. She’s the student I’ve been sponsoring. She’s incredibly driven. Every time I see her working, it reminds me of how hard you used to push yourself when we were younger.” He kissed my forehead, a gesture that felt more like a distraction than affection. “What’s with the interrogation? Surely you aren’t jealous of a young student?” I didn’t answer. I merely held my breath, desperate to escape the suffocating mix of cheap perfume and rising sourness. “Is that so? For a moment, I thought you used the business trip as an excuse to see someone else,” I said, trying to sound playful, though my chest felt as if it were being squeezed by iron bands. The sour scent in the air spiked instantly, sharp and bitter. Hampton averted his eyes. “You and your jokes. You must be hungry. I’ll go make us some dinner.” In that single moment, my heart plummeted into a freezing abyss. We had been together since we were eighteen, sweethearts who had survived everything side by side. Hampton’s heart had always belonged entirely to me. When I was twenty, my abusive father had raised a wooden club to strike me. Hampton had thrown himself over my body, taking the heavy blow instead. As blood dripped down his forehead, he had looked back at my sobbing form and smiled. Don’t cry, Celeste. As long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you again. When I was twenty-eight, my landlord had secretly filmed me in my own apartment and leaked the videos online. Standing on the edge of a rooftop, feeling utterly worthless, I had wanted to jump. Hampton had flown eight hundred miles, rushing up to the roof to pull me into his arms, sobbing. Celeste, look at me. This is not your fault. Through all those years, the scent of his love had remained perfectly, unbreakably sweet. Until today. I clutched my shirt, trying to cling to any shred of hope. What if my ability was malfunctioning? What if I was just letting my anxiety get the better of me? I held onto that hope until bedtime. I watched Hampton as he stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair. “Hampton, do you believe a person can love two people at the same time?” His movements halted for a single beat. That split second felt like a needle driving straight into my eye. He resumed drying his hair, his voice entirely casual. “Are you still overthinking things because of Erica? Stop worrying. I only love you.” He leaned down to press a soft kiss against my cheek, but I could smell it, the sudden, overwhelming wave of sourness that flooded the air the moment the lie left his lips. The next morning, Hampton prepared breakfast just as he always did. The milk was warmed to the exact temperature I liked, a habit he had kept for five years of marriage. But today, he took a photo of the breakfast plate, smiling as he typed a message on his phone. The sour scent grew even thicker. I chewed on my toast, but it tasted like ash. Suddenly, a loud, frantic ringtone shattered the silence. Hampton’s face turned pale. A weak, sobbing female voice came through the speaker. “Hampton, my head hurts so much. I feel so sick.” He stood up immediately, grabbing his coat and rushing toward the door, completely forgetting his car keys on the table. “I’m on my way.” He paused at the door, covering the microphone, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Celeste, something urgent came up at the office. Take a taxi today.” I sat in silence as the front door slammed shut. After a long while, I stood up, took his spare keys, and went down to his car. Inside, a delicate new ornament hung from the rearview mirror. The car freshener had been replaced with a heavy, cloying scent of freesia. I had always despised strong floral scents, which was why he had always chosen subtle woodsy colognes in the past. I reached into the side pocket of the driver’s door and pulled out a lipstick. It was a bright, youthful pink. It was a shade I would never wear, meant for someone much younger. My fingers clenched around the tube, my nails digging into my palms. On my drive to work, I passed a high-end restaurant I had wanted to visit for months. Every time I had brought it up to Hampton, he had brushed me off. The reservations are too difficult to get, Celeste. Besides, I’m too busy with work. You should go with your friends. Instinctively, I pulled the car over and walked inside. There, by the window, Hampton was sitting across from Erica, gently stroking her cheek. In that instant, a breathtakingly sweet fragrance filled my senses. It was the scent of Hampton’s pure, untainted love, but it wasn’t directed at me. It was entirely for her. My vision blurred, but no tears fell. “Hampton!” I lost all my dignity, screaming his name as I marched toward their table. The quiet chatter of the restaurant died instantly. “Celeste?!” Hampton gasped, staring at me in absolute shock. “What are you doing here?” He stood up, instinctively shielding Erica, whose face had gone pale with fright. Standing before me, the sweet scent on Hampton vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, toxic sourness that choked my lungs. His love for her had completely eclipsed his love for me, proven by the way he stood protectively in front of her. “My husband is about to kiss another woman, and I’m not allowed to be here?” I laughed, the sound hollow and sharp. Erica burst into tears, shrinking back behind him. Hampton wiped her tears away, looking at me with a heavy sigh. “I am her benefactor, Celeste. Erica is young, she’s just confused about her feelings of dependency.” He paused, his voice hardening slightly. “I sponsored her because she reminded me of how difficult your own childhood was. There is no need for you to act like this.” Erica peeked from behind his shoulder, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, Celeste. I never wanted to come between you two. It’s just that no one has ever treated me as well as Hampton has.” A fuse blew in my mind. I lunged forward, grabbing Erica’s arm, trying to drag her out from behind him. “You knew exactly what you were doing!” “Hampton, help me!” Erica cried out, deliberately collapsing toward him. “Celeste! Stop this!” Hampton’s face turned furious. His hand clamped around my wrist like an iron vise, squeezing so hard I was forced to let go. The whispers around the restaurant grew louder. “She can’t even keep her husband, so she takes it out on a young student. How pathetic.” “He said he’s just her sponsor. She’s completely overreacting.” “Look at her acting like a madwoman. No wonder her husband is looking elsewhere.” Several people pulled out their phones, recording the scene. “Stop making a scene. Haven’t you embarrassed us enough?” Hampton hissed through clenched teeth. I looked at Erica, who was hiding a smug smile behind her hands. Unable to contain the rage, I swung my hand and slapped her across the face. She cried out, stumbling backward into Hampton’s chest. Seeing this, Hampton shoved me away with immense force. I lost my balance, crashing hard onto the tiled floor. My arm swept a glass cup off the edge of a nearby table. It shattered, the sharp shards slicing deep into my forearm. Blood began to pool, mixing with the spilled water on the floor. Hampton stared at his hands in disbelief, his voice shaking. “Celeste, I didn’t mean to—” I couldn’t hear him anymore. A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my lower abdomen, accompanied by the suffocating, bitter stench of Hampton’s betrayal. My vision went dark, and I blacked out. When I finally regained consciousness, the sharp smell of hospital disinfectant filled my nose. Hampton was nowhere to be seen. I sat up with great effort and reached for my phone. My inbox was empty, save for two messages Hampton had sent three hours ago. The doctor said you’re fine. You crossed a line today, Celeste. I’ve left for my business trip. Let’s take some time apart to cool down. My fingers trembled as I typed a reply, still clinging to a pathetic shred of hope. Is Erica with you? I tapped send. A bright red exclamation mark flashed on the screen. He had blocked me. I stared at the screen, unable to deny the truth any longer. He didn’t love me anymore. For two days, Hampton made no attempt to contact me. When the nurse came to discharge me, she looked at me with deep sympathy. “Mrs. Ward, your chart shows you are eight weeks pregnant. Is your husband not coming to pick you up?” I was pregnant? My hand slowly moved to my stomach. This child was entirely unplanned, and my mind spun in confusion. As I hesitated, several patients walking by stared at me, whispering and pointing. A sense of dread washed over me. I opened my phone with shaking hands. My name was trending at the very top of the local news search. Erica had posted a video online. In it, she wept bitterly, claiming she was a hard-working student who had earned her scholarship, only to be falsely accused of being a mistress by her sponsor’s jealous wife. She claimed I had physically assaulted her and threatened to have her expelled. In the comments, someone had leaked my past trauma, posting about how my landlord had filmed me, claiming I was a loose woman who had seduced the landlord myself. The comments were a toxic tide of hatred. She’s dirty herself, so she thinks everyone else is dirty too. What kind of woman behaves like this? No wonder her husband wants out. I’m at the hospital right now. The nurses say she’s pregnant. Her husband should probably get a paternity test. No! That’s not true! It’s all lies! I screamed in my mind, but looking up, I only saw the judgmental, disgusted stares of the people around me. I stumbled out of the hospital, desperately calling Hampton. If he would just answer, he would fix this. He knew the truth about the landlord. He would protect me. The phone rang until it went to voicemail, over and over again. My hand dropped, the phone slipping from my fingers and clattering onto the pavement. Tears finally spilled over. I remembered how Hampton had been spending more and more time on his phone over the past year, always claiming it was work. Now I realized his attention had been entirely on Erica. He wouldn’t even take my calls anymore. I let out a bitter laugh. Celeste, you are such a fool. I will not wait for you anymore, Hampton. I gathered what little strength I had left, hailed a cab, and went home. When I woke up again, I was lying in our bedroom, changed into clean pajamas. The door clicked open, and Hampton walked in carrying a bowl of warm porridge. Seeing me awake, he set the bowl down and tucked the blanket around me, his eyes showing a flicker of concern. “I saw the news online. I’ve already had the search results taken down.” “I was only gone for a couple of days. How did you manage to ruin yourself like this?” I didn’t answer. The air in the room was a sickening mix of sweet and sour, making my heart ache with a dull, constant pain. Hampton blew on the porridge, his tone turning cold and accusatory. “But perhaps this is a good thing. This lesson should teach you not to make scenes anymore. Erica and I have a strictly professional relationship. It’s not as dirty as you think.” Strictly professional? I looked up, staring directly into his eyes. Those eyes, which used to look at me with absolute devotion, now held nothing but cold indifference. “Hampton,” my voice was barely a whisper. “I have a secret. I can smell betrayal.” “Years ago, you smelled incredibly sweet to me. There wasn’t a single drop of sourness in you. It was like that from the moment we fell in love.” Hampton’s face froze. “Celeste, you’re exhausted. You’re starting to hallucinate.” I ignored him, continuing quietly. “But everything changed the moment Erica appeared.” “Now, you smell sweet only when you think of her. When you look at me, you smell incredibly sour and bitter.” After a long silence, Hampton stood up, his expression hardening. “You need professional help. Get some rest.” I sat up, trying to grab his hand, but he stepped back, letting me fall forward. At that moment, the front door clicked open. Erica walked into the living room, holding a paper bag. I froze, watching her walk in as if she owned the place. “I’m just here to drop some things off,” Erica said, her voice dripping with mock shyness. “Hampton forgot these at my apartment.” Instinctively, I snatched the bag from her hand and tipped it over. Hampton’s spare underwear and a half-empty box of condoms spilled onto the floor. My hands shook violently. “Is this your strictly professional relationship?!” A flash of panic crossed Hampton’s face, and Erica immediately began to sob. “Celeste, please don’t misunderstand! I must have grabbed the wrong bag by mistake!” Hampton’s attention shifted entirely to Erica, pulling her gently into his arms to comfort her. The air in the room became thick with the sweet scent of their mutual affection, so strong it made me gag. Hampton turned to look at me, his scent toward me turning entirely rancid. “Erica is still fragile from the online backlash. I’m going to take her home. We’ll talk when I get back.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood. “Hampton,” I called out, my voice cracking. “It’s not over.” “Do you have any idea what they are saying about me online?” My voice trembled. “They are calling me a monster. Even if you took down the search results, the rumors are still spreading. They are dragging my past through the mud again.” His shoulders stiffened slightly. “If…” I thought of the child in my womb, my throat tightening. “If Erica records a video clarifying the truth right now, I will forgive you. This is your last chance.” I reached for my phone. “Enough!” Hampton snapped, slapping the phone out of my hand. “Celeste, you are out of control! A few comments online won’t kill you! First you invent this ridiculous story about smelling love, and now you want to drag an innocent girl into your drama?!” “Lest you forget, I still have the files from your landlord’s camera. Do I need to release them myself to make you behave?” The threat hung in the air, cold and merciless. My strength deserted me, and I collapsed onto the floor, staring at the man before me in absolute disbelief. This was the same man who had deleted those files with shaking hands years ago, whispering that he would protect me. Now, he was using my greatest trauma to threaten me into silence. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. Hampton avoided my gaze, turning his back on me. “Calm down and think about what you want. I’ll be back when you’ve cleared your head.” Without looking back, he took Erica’s hand and left. I lay on the cold floor, a sharp, unbearable pain tearing through my lower abdomen. Warm blood began to soak through my clothes. I reached out weakly, trying to grab my phone to call for an ambulance, when a notification popped up on the screen. It was a message from Erica, containing a link. Do you like my gift, sister? I opened the link. My old, private videos had been uploaded online, accompanied by a caption claiming this was the proof of my loose character. The world blurred around me. I felt the last of my strength fade. I pulled the pre-signed divorce papers from my drawer, smeared my bloody thumbprint across the signature line, and left them on the table. I don’t owe you anything anymore, Hampton. Four days later, unable to reach me, Hampton finally rushed back to the apartment. When he opened the door, there was no one home. There was only the dark, dried blood on the floor, and the blood-stained divorce papers resting on the coffee table. His face turned instantly pale.

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1 During the seventh year of our long-distance relationship, Gaff began complaining incessantly about a new intern named Gwen. “I’ve never seen an intern so incredibly useless. Someone actually had to teach her how to use the printer.” “I explained the formatting to her ten times, and she still got it wrong. Does she have water in her brain?” “Do you want to hear the latest stupid thing she did? She managed to spill hot coffee right over our photo.” Whenever Gaff spoke, the conversation inevitably drifted back to Gwen. I once half-jokingly teased him about it. “You know, in romantic comedies, the arrogant boss always ends up falling for the clumsy intern. If that happens, what am I supposed to do?” Gaff had scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. “Are you serious? Even if the sun rose in the west and the oceans ran dry, I wouldn’t waste a single glance on her.” Then came our seven-year anniversary. I drove for ten grueling hours, covering over seven hundred miles to surprise him for his birthday. But when I pushed the door to his apartment open, Gaff and Gwen were leaning in close, their lips mere inches from touching. I stood frozen in the doorway, my fingernails digging deep into my palms. At that exact moment, I decided I was done fighting for this relationship. … Seeing me, Gaff froze, quickly taking a step back to distance himself from her. The apartment fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. “What are you doing here?” he asked. I stared at him, momentarily speechless. In the past, even when we were separated by a six-hour train ride and hundreds of miles, Gaff would make the trip just to hold me for a few minutes. When his friends mocked him for being hopelessly whipped, he would snap right back at them: You don’t know anything. I don’t want to waste a single second I could be spending with Maeve. But this time, when I was the one who had crossed the distance to see him, he didn’t pull me into his arms. He didn’t murmur how much he missed me in that low, raspy voice of his. Instead, his handsome brow furrowed with irritation, his voice laced with an accusatory edge. I stood still, glancing down at the cake box in my hands. “I came to celebrate your birthday.” Gaff stepped forward, taking the box from me. As he reached out, I noticed a colorful, hand-woven thread bracelet on his wrist. I recognized it instantly. I had seen it the last time he visited me, and the memory was etched into my mind. Gaff despised wearing anything on his wrists, claiming it was too much of a hassle. Even the expensive Rolex I had saved up to buy him for his birthday had only been worn once, on the day I gave it to him. When I had asked about the cheap bracelet back then, he had dismissed my jealousy. It’s just a small token of appreciation from a colleague. I was rushing to catch the train and forgot to take it off. Now, looking closer, I realized the truth. He hadn’t forgotten to take it off. He simply couldn’t bear to part with it. Gaff walked past me to set the cake on the counter, not sparing me another glance. He didn’t hold my hand, nor did he ask about my long drive. He didn’t even notice that my legs felt as heavy as lead, making it difficult to take a single step. Gemma, however, was watching me. The initial look of disappointment and annoyance on her face vanished, replaced by a sweet, welcoming smile as she walked toward me. “You must be Maeve. I’ve seen your picture on Tris—” She caught herself quickly, offering a polite correction. “On Gaff’s desk.” My fingers tightened into fists. My gaze fell to her wrist. She was wearing an identical hand-woven bracelet, the colors perfectly matching Gaff’s. Noticing my stare, Gwen proudly lifted her wrist. “Pretty, isn’t it? I wove it myself. I made one for Gaff too, and he loved it so much he won’t even take it off to shower.” So much for forgetting to take it off. She reached out to take my arm, pulling me into the living room. “Maeve, if you like it, I can weave one for you too.” “No need,” I began, but Gaff interrupted me before the words could leave my mouth. “Forget it,” Gaff said, his voice carrying a gentle, scolding tone that felt far too intimate. “You cut your fingers twice just making those two. Do you want to lose your hands entirely?” Gwen pouted, looking up at him. “I was just inexperienced.” “Just admit you’re clumsy, don’t use inexperience as an excuse.” He was teasing her, but his eyes were filled with an unmistakable warmth. He then turned to me. “If you want one, Maeve, I’ll buy you a proper one, okay?” I looked at him, about to decline, when his eyes suddenly narrowed. “What happened to your arm?” I looked down. Blood was slowly seeping through my sleeve at the elbow. The highway had been dark, and my vision had been blurred by exhaustion. I had scraped against a concrete barrier on the way. I must have injured my elbow then. Gaff’s brow furrowed with concern. “Where else are you hurt?” I shook my head. “I’ll get the first-aid kit.” “I’ll get it!” Gwen volunteered, quickly running toward the storage closet. A moment later, she returned with the kit. “Let me help Maeve clean it.” “I’ll do it,” Gaff said, taking the kit from her. He offered a tight, forced smile. “She’s incredibly sensitive to pain. I don’t think she could handle your rough hands.” Gwen handed over the kit reluctantly, letting out a soft huff. “I only applied a little pressure when I cleaned your scratch the other day. Are you going to bring that up forever?” As Gaff gently dabbed the antiseptic on my cut, I looked at Gwen. “Do you come here often?” Gwen stared at me, as if trying to calculate the meaning behind my question. “You seem very familiar with the apartment,” I continued, my voice quiet. “You knew exactly where the first-aid kit was kept.” She picked up a strawberry from the bowl on the table, taking a bite with casual indifference. “I lived here for two months, so I know where most things are.” I averted my eyes, my nails digging deeper into my palms until the pain became sharp. I looked back at Gaff, my expression frozen. Having finished bandaging my arm, Gaff looked up, meeting my eyes with a look of utter confusion. “What’s wrong?” A second later, the realization seemed to hit him. He glanced at Gwen, then looked back at me, offering a hurried explanation. “She’s incredibly clumsy, Maeve. She managed to fracture her leg just trying to buy some craft supplies. She didn’t have anyone else in the city, so I had to take her in and look after her for a couple of months.” Gwen rolled her eyes at him. “Are you telling my embarrassing stories again? I only got distracted because I was trying to find the exact colors you liked.” “When did this happen?” I asked. “About three months ago,” Gwen replied. Three months ago. That was the exact time Gaff and I had planned our dream trip to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. I had saved up, secured my leave, and bought the tickets. But the day before we were set to leave, he had called to cancel, claiming an urgent business trip had come up. From that day on, he had stopped calling me as often. Whenever I tried to video call him, he would quickly hang up, citing poor reception, meetings, or client dinners. Now, the pieces fell into place. He hadn’t been working. He had canceled our trip to nurse Gwen back to health in his apartment. The answer was staring me in the face. Feeling a sudden wave of physical exhaustion, I excused myself to the bathroom. There, resting on the edge of the sink, was a tube of lipstick in the exact shade Gwen was wearing. I stared at it, a bitter, mocking smile creeping onto my face in the mirror. She had never fully moved out. I had driven ten hours, covering seven hundred miles, but the cake wasn’t the only gift I had brought. I had also brought a surprise he had been begging for. Every time we had to part after our brief visits, Gaff would look at me with tears in his eyes. Maeve, every time you leave, it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. When can we finally live in the same city? Now, the opportunity had arrived. My company was opening two new regional branches, one in the South, near him, and one in the North, thousands of miles away. The North offered a much larger market and better career prospects, but I had chosen the South without hesitation, solely to end our long-distance struggle. I looked at the lipstick on the counter, silently asking myself: Will he even care? When I returned to the living room, Gaff and Gwen were sitting close together, laughing as they ate a different slice of cake. The cake I had brought sat untouched in the corner, forgotten and ignored. I walked over, picked up my cake, and carried it to the refrigerator. It was an ice cream cake; it would melt if left out. But the moment I pulled the refrigerator door open, I froze. The shelves were packed to the brim with fresh strawberries. The sight dragged me instantly into the darkest memories of my childhood. At the group home where I grew up, the cook had used a strawberry to lure me into a dark, locked pantry. The door had slammed shut, plunging me into pitch-black terror as he advanced on me. Since that day, strawberries had been my trigger, causing severe panic attacks and flashbacks. For years, Gaff had made sure there was never a single strawberry in our presence. He had even blocked strawberry-related content on his social media feeds to keep me from seeing them. Yet now, the refrigerator was overflowing with them. My body began to shake uncontrollably, my voice trembling as I spoke. “Gaff.” He looked up from his plate. “Yeah?” “Let’s break up.” Gaff froze. In an instant, he rushed over, slamming the refrigerator door shut to block the fruit from my sight. “It’s okay, you’re safe,” he murmured, his hands wrapping tightly around my arms as he tried to soothe me. “I’m here, I’m here.” I slowly regained my composure, staring at his face. “Did you forget?” “Of course I didn’t,” he said, his brow furrowing with mild annoyance. “But Gwen loves them, and her own refrigerator was full, so she kept some of them here. You shouldn’t have showed up without warning, Maeve. If you had told me you were coming, this wouldn’t have happened.” I stared at him, realizing how unfamiliar he had become. “I’m going to drive Gwen home. You should take some time to calm down,” he said. With those words, he took Gwen’s hand and led her out of the apartment. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was a message from my regional director. I need your final decision on the transfer by tonight. My fingers shook as I typed out my reply. The Northern branch. The director replied almost instantly. Understood. I’ll book your flight for tomorrow. After what felt like hours, the front door opened, bringing in the faint scent of Gwen’s sweet perfume. Gaff walked into the living room, reaching out to wrap his arms around me, leaning in to kiss my lips. I stepped back, escaping his touch. “We broke up, Gaff. Don’t touch me.” Gaff’s expression cooled, his eyes turning dark. “Maeve, you made your point earlier. But you’re not a child anymore. Throwing tantrums like this is getting old.” My voice remained entirely calm. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I am leaving you.” The silence in the room became heavy. Gaff stared at me, a look of genuine disbelief crossing his face. “You’re really going to end a seven-year relationship over a few strawberries?” A quiet ache settled in my chest. I remembered when we were children at the group home. A boy had played a prank on me, hiding a strawberry in my lunchbox. I had stood there, shaking and crying, as the other kids laughed at me. The next day, that boy had opened his desk to find a live snake inside, turning pale with terror. It had been Gaff’s doing. When the director of the home had demanded an apology, Gaff had stood tall, refusing to back down. He put a strawberry in Maeve’s lunchbox. He deserved it. It was just a harmless joke, the director had argued. It might be a joke to you, Gaff had shot back, glaring at everyone in the room. But to me, anything that hurts Maeve is the most important thing in the world. If any of you try it again, see what happens. “Gaff, wait. A cockroach?” Gaff’s voice broke through my memory as he answered his phone. His tone turned frantic. “Gwen is absolutely terrified of bugs. I need to go help her. I’ll be right back.” “Gaff,” I called out. “Since when is a cockroach a life-or-death emergency?” The only answer I received was the heavy slam of the front door. I stood alone in the quiet apartment, the August air suddenly feeling incredibly cold. My phone buzzed with the flight confirmation from my director. Departure: Tomorrow at 3:20 PM. Destination: The Northern Branch. The next morning, Gaff insisted on taking me for a drive, claiming we were going to hike. After forty minutes, the car pulled up outside a modern apartment complex. I looked at him in confusion. “I promised Gwen we would go hiking today,” he explained, not looking at me. “She didn’t want you to feel left out, so she suggested we bring you along.” He added a touch of scolding to his voice. “See how considerate she is? You really shouldn’t have reacted the way you did yesterday.” I turned my head away, staring out the window as a sharp pain flared in my chest. Gwen walked up to the car, wearing a white t-shirt with a massive strawberry printed on the front. I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing. “Gwen gets carsick easily, so she should sit in the front,” Gaff said. I looked at him, stunned. He had once promised me that the front passenger seat was my exclusive spot, and that he would never let another woman sit there. “It’s fine, Gaff. I can sit in the back,” Gwen said, though she remained standing by the passenger door, not making any move to open the back. Gaff’s expression darkened, his voice dropping. “Maeve, don’t make things difficult for Gwen today.” Without a word, I opened the door and climbed into the back seat. It didn’t matter. After today, I would never have to sit in his car again. At the summit of the mountain, Gwen pointed at the bungee jumping platform. “Gaff, I want to try that! Will you jump with me?” Gaff froze, a look of terror crossing his face. He was deathly afraid of heights. Years ago, when I had stood near a ledge, he had begged me on his knees, sobbing, too terrified to take a single step closer. But now, Gaff looked at the drop, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Okay, I’ll jump with you.” I watched in silence. Gaff put on the harness, wrapped his arms tightly around Gwen, and together, they plunged into the open air. The mountain wind howled around me, feeling incredibly cold. When they returned, they were flush with excitement, laughing and sharing their experience. “Gaff, you’re the best! I would have never had the courage to jump without you!” “I promised I would always be there to help you face your fears, didn’t I?” Gaff then turned to me, his tone carrying a heavy significance. “Maeve, you should try to face your fears too. Just like I did.” He didn’t say the word strawberries because of Gwen, but I knew exactly what he meant. Gwen reached out, taking my arm. “Maeve has already been so brave today!” She pointed to her shirt. “I wore this strawberry shirt on purpose, and she didn’t panic at all. See, my exposure therapy is working!” She turned to Gaff, smiling. “Gaff, tell me I did a good job.” Gwen then pulled a small plastic container of strawberries from her bag, holding one out to my lips. “Maeve, it wasn’t your fault. Just take one bite, and you’ll see there’s nothing to be afraid of. You can finally put the past behind you.” I stared at her, my eyes wide. “How do you know about that?” “I…” Gwen stammered, looking at Gaff. The wind swept over the peak, carrying a sudden, heavy silence. I looked at Gaff. “You told her?” Gaff looked away, struggling to find his words. “I… I just wanted to help you. You can’t let this keep holding you back…” The world seemed to crumble around me. After that night in the pantry, I had spent ten years waking up screaming from nightmares. The day I turned eighteen, Gaff had taken me away from the children’s home, promising to keep my secret safe forever, to let us build a life where no one knew our pain. Yet now, he had handed my deepest, most painful vulnerability to another woman, treating it as a casual topic of conversation. My phone rang. It was my director. “Maeve, I noticed you haven’t checked in for your flight. Are you having second thoughts?” I bit down hard on my hand, fighting back the sob that threatened to escape. “Maeve? Are you there?” After a long pause, I forced my voice to remain steady. “I’m here. The signal was weak. I’m on my way to the airport now.” “Excellent. I’ll see you in the North.” After hanging up, I took a taxi back to Gaff’s apartment to gather my belongings. My suitcase was quickly packed; I had brought very little with me. Before leaving, I took one last look at the apartment. In the entryway shoe rack, there were three pairs of women’s shoes. Two of them were not mine. In the corner, covered in dust and cobwebs, lay the Rolex I had gifted him for his birthday. I picked it up and tossed it into the trash can. Gwen’s pillows sat on the sofa, her makeup sat on the sink, and her towel hung next to Gaff’s in the bathroom. Gaff and I had been together for seven years, but his home held no trace of me. It belonged entirely to Gwen. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Gaff. Gwen is really upset because of your reaction. I’ll explain everything once I calm her down. I didn’t reply. I shut the door behind me and walked away, never looking back.

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1 My brother was a minor villain in a syrupy romance novel, destined to be ditched by the heroine and fed to the fish by the hero. To save him, I was bound to a system at birth. Whenever he dated the lead, I peed on him; whenever he wrote love letters, I tore them apart with my chubby hands, leaving him too drained to meddle in their affairs. Years later, on receiving my college letter, Mark summoned me. “You’re grown. I’ll fulfill my duty and do what I must.” The system pinged: He planned to bomb the leads’ 10th anniversary. The next day, I brought a bleached-blond punk to Mark, leaning on his tattooed shoulder with boba in one hand and an ultrasound in the other. “Look! He’s no loser—he’ll help run our business once he upgrades his bike. Hand over the shares!” Mark’s face twisted. He dropped the explosives, grabbed my ear, and peeled me off the punk. “My business can wait! Today, I’m dealing with you!” … “Oww, oww, oww!” I grimaced in pain. I frantically pried at his fingers to rescue my poor ear. “Mark! You literally just said I am all grown up! You cannot keep bullying me like I am a little kid!” “Besides…” I gazed up lovingly at the blond punk, Jax, and then lowered my head in exaggerated shyness. “The love of my life is standing right here. Do I not deserve some dignity?” Mark’s face was beet red. He looked like he was going to breathe fire. “You are a child! What do you know about love?!” He snatched a broom from the housekeeper, looking fully prepared to smack my behind. The system’s voice suddenly echoed in my head, sounding genuinely amazed. Host! Host! His Threat Level really dropped from 100 to 90! I felt incredibly smug. Of course it did. Our mother passed away giving birth to me. Mark had played the role of both father and mother to raise me. Now that his precious little princess was about to be kidnapped by a tattooed punk, if he could actually ignore it, I would bow down to him. I dodged around the coffee table to escape him while putting on a tearful, victimized face. “You were willing to abandon me and the entire company just for Cindy! I feel the exact same way about my baby! I would betray the whole world for him! Who are you to say I do not understand love?!” Mark froze. Right at that moment, his phone rang. Cindy’s voice drifted through the speaker. “I thought you were going to try and ruin my wedding anniversary with my husband. It seems you actually have some self awareness.” “Mark, I know you have done a lot for me.” “But you also have your sister—that little burden. If I had chosen you back then, your sister would constantly be fighting me for your attention.” “However, I can give you one more chance to serve me. My husband and I want some alone time today, so you can babysit our kids.” Mark’s face darkened instantly. He gripped his phone so tightly the veins on the back of his hand bulged, but he did not say a word. Cindy always played the role of a delicate, innocent flower in front of the male lead. She only dared to speak to Mark with such arrogant entitlement because she knew his love for her had zero boundaries. The system blared an alarm. Warning! The villain’s Threat Level is rising rapidly! Please take immediate action, Host! If he actually harms the male and female leads, this pocket universe will collapse, and you will be completely erased! I shot Jax a pointed look. He immediately understood the assignment. He nodded solemnly, marched over, and knocked the broom out of Mark’s hand. He stepped protectively in front of me, glaring at Mark with fiery intensity. “My girl is the queen of the gothic underworld.” “When people bully her, I block it. When she has no money for food, I carry the burden. What right does an old man like you have to disrespect her?!” He turned to look at me, his eyes burning with dramatic passion. “My dark queen, do you understand?” I looked deeply moved. Tears welled up in my eyes as I threw myself into Jax’s arms. “My brother does not love me anymore! Well, I do not want him either!” “You said you wanted to do donuts on his grave with your motorcycle? I will not stop you anymore.” Mark squeezed his eyes shut. I could practically see his heartbeat pounding against his chest. “Mark, you were the one who begged to enter my house before. I am giving you a chance now, do not waste it.” “Can you be here in ten minutes?” Cindy demanded arrogantly from the phone. Mark ground his teeth together and hung up the phone. “I am about to have a stroke because of Penelope, and you want me to babysit for you?!” “I am busy!” He threw his phone onto the sofa and chugged three glasses of ice water before his breathing finally leveled out. “Are you really pregnant?” “Get rid of the baby, break up with this punk, and you can still be my sister.” This time, I didn’t refuse immediately. If I acted too stubborn, what if he just gave up on me and went right back to chasing the female lead? After all, he was the devoted second male lead that left countless readers heartbroken. His feelings for the female lead were no joke. I asked, “Mark, why are you against me and my baby?” Mark looked at me like I was a complete idiot. “Because he cannot give you a good life.” “If I knew you were going to end up with a deadbeat punk, I never would have spoiled you. I should have just thrown you in the slums.” I immediately applied his own logic back to him. “But Cindy never gave you a good life either.” “Just to make her smile, you spent thirty million dollars at an auction to buy the Heart of the Ocean. You broke the company’s entire cash flow. But she just turned around, wore the necklace you bought, and married Liam!” I pointed out the window at Buster, the golden retriever. “That dog has bitten me so many times. You refuse to get rid of it just because Cindy gave it to you.” “Your reasons for opposing us make absolutely no sense! You are just jealous because we are true lovers who actually get to be together!” Jax looked at me with stars in his eyes. “You are so smart. I officially crown you the Goddess of Wisdom.” He dropped to one knee and started belting out a cheesy love song. His singing mixed with the dog barking outside. Mark pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked completely defeated. “Butler, take Buster back to Cindy. I do not want him anymore.” “And now I am ordering you—kick this little blond punk out of my house.” The system chimed happily. The second male lead’s Threat Level has dropped again! Keep up the good work, Host! We had made serious progress today. I knew the concept of using a carrot and a stick. “You go home first, baby. I will come find you tomorrow.” After sending Jax off, I planned to get some well deserved rest. But suddenly, the security guard rushed into the living room, looking hesitant. “Sir… Miss Cindy is here. She says she needs to see you.” Mark shot up from the sofa, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What did you say?” Noticing I was still in the room, he realized he was losing his composure. He cleared his throat and sat back down. I took the initiative. “Let Cindy in.” Mark’s mind was already flying toward her anyway. It was better to keep her right under my nose so I could see exactly what kind of drama she was trying to stir up. Cindy ran into the living room, sobbing. She threw herself straight into Mark’s arms. Mark’s entire body went rigid. “Mark, Liam is bullying me! We were supposed to have a romantic date tonight, but he took a business call and just left me at the restaurant.” “I am so heartbroken. You are the only person I could turn to… boohoo…” Mark’s eyes immediately softened with an uncontrollable, painful sympathy. “Do not cry. I will protect you.” His clenched fists slowly relaxed. He raised a hand and gently stroked Cindy’s hair, his eyes darkening. “I will make anyone who hurts you pay the price.” The system started screaming in my head. Warning! The second male lead is formulating a plan to assassinate the male lead! Host, do something! Aaaaaah! I smiled brightly and poured Cindy a cup of tea. “Cindy, you should just stay at our house tonight! My brother is the best at taking care of people.” Cindy did this all the time. Whenever she had a minor argument with the male lead, she would run to Mark and cry about it. Mark would get furious on her behalf and start sabotaging the male lead’s business deals. Then, she would suddenly get upset again, turning around and blaming my brother for ruining her happiness. Mark looked at her with pure anticipation. Just as I expected, Cindy raised her hand and violently swatted the teacup off the table. “Does it look like it is your turn to speak?!” “My husband is the heir to the biggest conglomerate in the city! I have seen plenty of little girls like you. You are just hoping my husband and I get a divorce so you can take my place, aren’t you?!” She stared at my face, a flash of pure, ugly jealousy crossing her eyes. Then, she raised her hand high, aiming a slap right at my face. “A feral child with no mother to raise her really has no manners! I am going to teach you a lesson on your brother’s behalf!” I could not dodge in time, so I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut. But the sharp sting I expected never came. I opened my eyes. Mark had stepped in front of me, taking the slap for me. A bright red handprint blossomed across his cheek. He frowned slightly. “Cindy, I know you are in a bad mood right now.” “But my sister is still a child. Could you show her some respect?” Even though I had lived in this world for eighteen years, I was still utterly astounded by how pathetic his love-brain was. I quietly pulled out my phone and summoned the punk. Despite Mark’s humble, compromising tone, Cindy still exploded. “You are defending another woman against me?!” “I am not staying here! Enjoy the feeling of losing me!” She turned to run out. A flash of panic immediately appeared in Mark’s eyes. [Host! Mark’s Threat Level has shot up to 99! He is planning to lock the female lead in the basement for forced love!] I calmly pulled my phone up to my ear and turned on my most annoying, whiny baby voice. “Baby~ where are you?” “My brother is going out tonight. Take me to get a tattoo! I want to get your name tattooed on my tummy!” “You are my whole world, and our baby’s world too!” Mark’s feet, which had been moving to chase Cindy, slammed to a dead halt. “That old man finally backed off.” “I am almost there, baby! I am going to spoil you so much!” The obnoxious revving of a motorcycle engine echoed outside the courtyard. Jax drove his bike straight into the yard, intentionally running right over a patch of Mark’s carefully cultivated orchids. They were Cindy’s favorite flowers. He reached his hand out to me, flashing a crooked, edgy smirk. “Baby, you do not have to put up a strong front around that old man anymore.” “Because your strength is here.” Mark spun around, striding toward me with the veins bulging in his forehead. “Tell him to get out.” I sidestepped him, hopped onto the back of Jax’s bike, and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist. “If you cannot bear to let Cindy leave, then I cannot bear to kick my baby out either!” “You go chase Cindy. I am going to sleep at the castle my baby rents! He lives there with a dozen of his brothers. I will feel so safe living with all of them!” The second the words left my mouth, the system started clapping for me. [Host, I am scanning the second male lead’s brainwaves, and it is completely blank!] [There is absolutely zero trend toward villainy right now!] Cindy walked away slowly, turning her head back every three steps, fully expecting Mark to drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness like he always did. But she quickly realized that Mark was staring fixedly at me and the punk, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. He did not spare her a single glance. She shouted again, much louder this time. “Mark! I am really leaving! I am never going to speak to you again!” Mark waved his hand dismissively in her direction without looking. “Hurry up and leave, stop interrupting me while I talk to my sister.” Seeing that Mark truly had no intention of coddling her, Cindy absolutely lost her mind. She stormed back over to me, glaring at me like a wife catching a mistress. “Trying to seduce my husband was not enough for you?!” “Now you are watching Mark and this guy fight over you, are you proud of yourself?!” Her logic gave me whiplash. “Lady, Mark is my biological brother.” “What did you just call me?! Are you calling me old?!” “My husband told me I was the little baby in his arms just yesterday!” She grabbed the collar of my shirt, raising her hands to scratch my face with her long acrylic nails. But Jax shoved her hard, sending her tumbling to the ground. “Cindy…” Mark’s pupils contracted. “Security! Throw this punk out!” “Who dares touch me?!” Jax let out a dramatic roar. He looked at Mark with an expression of deep, tragic disappointment. “You are a man. You can be injured, but you can never be weak.” “Since you cannot protect my baby, leave her to me. I will guard my girl.” He revved the engine, ready to peel out. “But remember this—keep your baby in line! If she breaks my baby’s wings, I will destroy your entire heaven!” I cheered, throwing my arms up in the air, looking at him with absolute worship. “Baby, you are so cool! You are way cooler than my brother!” I glanced down at my arm, which was red from where Cindy had grabbed me, and pouted dramatically. “I am a delicate little flower, and I am being crushed by others, and my brother does not even care!” “I am going to rely on you for the rest of my life!” Mark leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as he aggressively massaged his temples. “Escort Miss Cindy out.” Cindy suddenly let out a cold, sharp laugh. “You show so much favoritism to your sister, but did you know she cannot wait for you to die?” “When you refused to babysit for me, I guessed you were brainwashed by her. So I had someone investigate. And look what I found—the chat logs between her and her boyfriend.” She threw a stack of printed papers onto the ground. Mark picked them up. As he read them, his face grew even darker. He handed them to me, his voice freezing cold. “Did you say these things?” In the chat logs, I had texted Jax: [As soon as the explosives on my brother detonate, you immediately contact the family lawyer to inherit the company. We are going to turn the corporation into a motorcycle manufacturing plant.] I was speechless. I did write that. But Jax and I were literally just acting. I was sending him the script we were supposed to rehearse. Cindy crossed her arms over her chest. “Nothing to say? I guess that means you admit it.” “Mark, I am giving you two choices. Either you come back to my side and continue being my dog.” “Or you keep taking care of this ungrateful backstabber of a sister, and I will never see you again for the rest of my life.” My heart squeezed tight. No one knew just how deeply Mark loved the female lead better than I did. If he chose the first option, interfered in their relationship, and collapsed the world… I would be erased. Mark’s hands clenched into tight fists, then slowly relaxed. He opened his mouth.

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1 As I signed the kidney transplant cancellation form, Luke’s face registered pure shock. “Are you out of your mind? You love Krista to death, and you are the only match. Now you are backing out?” I did not even look up. My voice was eerily calm. “Because of a glass of water.” Krista had severe germaphobia. In our house, she absolutely refused to share anything with me. Even a glass I had just touched with my lips was untouchable to her. Until the day I saw a video on the social media account of a college intern working under her. In the video, the kid held up his half-empty energy drink and brought it to her lips. Krista naturally leaned in and took a sip from his hand. She frowned slightly, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Way too sweet. Watch out for your teeth.” Her voice in the recording was unbelievably soft. That night, I sat alone in the pitch-black living room, watching that ten-second clip hundreds of times. The glare of the screen made my eyes burn. When Krista woke up the next morning, I poured a glass of water, took a sip right in front of her, and handed it over. “Take a sip.” She stared at me like I was a complete lunatic. “Rick, are you sick in the head? I never touch anything someone else has drank out of.” Someone else. Married for seven years, and in her eyes, I was just someone else. I forcibly pulled my thoughts out of the memories, gripped the pen, and signed my name at the bottom of the waiver. I turned to look out the window. It was the peak of summer. The asphalt radiated waves of heat under the blazing sun, and the cicadas in the trees were deafening. Krista, and that glass of water. Suddenly, I felt entirely exhausted. I did not want to hold on anymore. Right as I stepped through the automatic glass doors of the hospital, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Krista. [Grab some pastries from the deli in the South District. Jace is coming over for dinner.] [He loves barbecue ribs, get the center cut. Oh, and make sure there is no celery or eggplant, he refuses to touch them.] I had been getting my blood drawn repeatedly over the past few days for the transplant prep. I was so dizzy I had to lean against the cold brick wall of the hospital to catch my breath. Luke grabbed my shoulder to steady me, and his eyes accidentally caught the screen of my phone. He instantly blew up. “Is this woman out of her damn mind? She memorized some outsider’s dietary restrictions like she is quoting the Bible, but what about you?” “Last week she had a sudden whim to cook you dinner and stuffed the whole thing with mushrooms! Does she not know you are deathly allergic to that crap? You went into anaphylactic shock right on the floor. If I had not stopped by to see you, you would be in the morgue right now!” My chest tightened as if an invisible hand was crushing my heart. A bitter sting pricked the back of my eyes. When we first got together, Krista still had this clumsy sweetness about her. She would write down my birthday, my favorite things, and the foods that could kill me in her phone notes. Whenever I felt down, she would magically appear with my favorite dessert. Every anniversary, her surprises were perfect. But now, those anniversaries were blank pages. She no longer had the patience for surprises, and she had completely forgotten the allergen that nearly took my life. I finally had to admit that the burning vows from nine years ago had completely rotted away. Every memory had turned into a bloody thorn, ripping my heart to shreds. After a long pause, I shoved the phone back into my pocket and looked at my best friend. “Luke, hook me up with a good lawyer. I want a divorce.” I dragged my leaden legs back to the house. The moment I pushed open our familiar oak door, a freezing, chemical blast of disinfectant spray hit me right in the face. Jace was pinching his nose with one hand and holding a spray bottle in the other, raising an arrogant brow at me. “The professor said outside filth is not allowed in the house. You do not mind, do you, old man?” Fighting the sting in my eyes, I slowly opened them and pinned him with a glare. He was wearing the matching linen shirt Krista and I owned. I had just custom-ordered it from a boutique last week. The tiny pine tree on the cuff was something I stayed up late embroidering myself. Now, it hung loosely on his young frame, reeking of a sickening sense of triumph. I suddenly let out a dry laugh. “I honestly had no idea Professor Krista had such poorly raised punks working under her.” Jace’s face instantly went pale. He immediately put on a victimized expression and looked down the hallway. Krista walked out in her slippers, her face as cold as ice. She stepped right in front of Jace, shielding him, and lowered her voice to scold me. “Rick, watch your mouth. Jace was just playing a harmless joke. Do you have to be so bitter?” A joke? I gritted my teeth. I wanted to scream at her. Was sharing a drink a joke? Was him strutting around in my custom clothes a joke? How many more of these shady little “jokes” were hiding between them? But looking at her defensive posture, treating him like someone she needed to protect from me, all the words died in my throat. I did not want to ask a single thing anymore. Without a word, I turned around, slammed the front door shut, changed my shoes, and walked to the dining table. I pulled out a chair and sat down. “Krista, I have something to tell you.” Dating for two years, married for seven. Even if this ship was sinking, I wanted to give us a decent ending. I touched the outline of the transplant cancellation form through my jacket pocket, trying to find the right words. “I went to the hospital today…” “Whatever it is, can it not wait until after dinner?” She cut me off with extreme impatience, her eyebrows tying into a knot. “Rick, I am busy. I do not have time to waste on you.” I froze in my chair, staring at the woman in front of me in pure disbelief. It felt like a handful of dry straw was shoved down my throat, scraping away my voice. Waste time. I said those exact words to her many years ago. Back then, Krista chased me relentlessly. The library, frat parties, the football bleachers, she was everywhere. Out of sheer exhaustion, I rejected the coffee she offered me for the hundredth time. “I really am not looking for a relationship right now. Stop wasting your time on me.” “How is this a waste of time?” Eighteen-year-old Krista smiled, her eyes curving like crescents, filled to the brim with my reflection. “Just breathing the same city air as you, walking down the same streets, feels like a blessing. Even if you are rejecting me right now, just hearing your voice makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world.” My heart pounded like a drum back then, my face burning hot. But now, looking at the freezing face in front of me, I felt a chilling cold seep into my bones. Since when did she consider sparing me a single sentence a waste of her life? “Professor, since your husband did not even buy groceries, let us forget about the ribs.” Jace stepped up with a cheeky grin, placing his hand naturally on the small of Krista’s back to guide her toward the kitchen. “I was craving those mushroom cheese ravioli you made last time anyway!” The frost on Krista’s face melted instantly, a gentle smile appearing on her lips. She tied on her apron and turned to affectionately ruffle the boy’s hair. “Lucky you. I purposely made extra and froze them last time, just for you.” “You are the best, Professor!” They walked past me laughing and chatting, treating me like thin air. I kept my head down, a bitter sneer forming on my lips. So, that dinner that almost sent me to the ER last week was not some romantic whim. What I ate was just the rejected test batch meant for someone else. I took a deep breath, forcing the violent storm of emotions down. Just to keep the last shred of my dignity, I refused to scream and tear her apart in front of this outsider. I refused to look pathetic. Outside the kitchen doors, they ate their steaming ravioli and talked about absolute nonsense. They went from data models to the recent storms, to the ski season in the Alps and autumn in Aspen. The famously strict and cold Professor Krista was a chatterbox in front of Jace, responding to his every word. Inside the living room, I sat in dead silence, feeling my once burning heart freeze solid piece by piece. It was not until the streetlights flickered on outside that Krista pushed open the bedroom door. She casually tossed a brown paper takeout bag onto my nightstand. “You are anemic lately. You need to eat something.” The bag contained clam chowder from my favorite spot. Years ago, before they even offered delivery, Krista would brave the freezing morning wind to stand in line just to get it for me. “What is your problem today? Why were you so aggressive with Jace?” “Aggressive?” I forced a smile and looked straight into her eyes. “He is into you. Do not tell me you are blind enough to miss that.” “You brought him into our private home, let him wear my clothes, and let him spray alcohol in my face. You know damn well mushrooms could kill me, yet you stocked our freezer full of them just for him!” “Shut your mouth!” Krista’s face darkened instantly. Her brows furrowed deeply, and she looked down at me with sheer contempt. “Jace is the most talented student in my entire program! What is wrong with him coming over for a casual meal? Can you stop judging people with your pathetic, narrow mind?” “He has ambition. He has real goals. He is not from the same world as a guy like you who just stays home and has zero career drive.” Her words were like a bucket of ice water poured straight over my head. I stared at her, my muscles trembling uncontrollably. “Krista, you literally got on your knees and begged me to quit my job!” Back then, she cried about how much it hurt to see me work late, complaining we never had time together. She swore she would build her career while I managed the home. Like an idiot, I believed her. Because I loved her, because I trusted her completely, I killed my own career and swallowed my pride to support her ambitions. Now, that was the very weapon she used against me? Krista looked at my red rimmed eyes, fell silent for a moment, and let out an annoyed sigh. “Fine. I was too harsh.” “Your health is bad anyway, stop getting so worked up.” She turned toward the door. “It is pouring outside. I need to drive Jace home. Whatever nonsense you want to talk about, save it for when I get back.” I did not try to stop her. I knew I could not. Right then, my phone lit up. A text from Luke. [The divorce papers are drawn up by the best lawyers in town. Brother, I booked us two first-class tickets to Europe. Come out and get some fresh air.] Without a second of hesitation, my fingers typed a single letter: [K.] I sat on the living room sofa the entire night, waiting for her to come back so we could talk about the divorce. But I called dozens of times, and every single one went straight to voicemail. It was not until seven the next morning that the front door was pushed open. Seeing me on the couch, a flash of undeniable guilt crossed Krista’s eyes. “Rick, did you not sleep at all?” “The rain was brutal last night, and Jace sprained his ankle on the steps. I was too worried, so I took him to the ER and stayed with him for the night.” “Krista…” After staying up all night, my voice sounded like sandpaper. “Taking ten seconds to send a text, is that too hard? Picking up one phone call, is that too hard?” “Listening to me finish a sentence, is it really that damn hard?” “Sorry.” She stood in the entryway, unusually silent for a few seconds. “My phone died last night. Plus, I assumed you were already asleep.” “You probably have not eaten breakfast yet. I will make you something.” She practically fled into the kitchen. After some clattering, she surprisingly whipped up a lavish spread of hot food. Krista was terrible at basic life skills, but she was naturally gifted in the kitchen. I had chronic stomach issues, and a few years ago, she actually read through dozens of nutritional cookbooks just to make me healing meals every day. But right as the last pot of hot soup was done, she unhesitatingly packed all the hot food into a thermal lunchbox. Then she turned around and slid a plate of thick blueberry toast across the counter to me. “Rick, just make do with this for now.” “I have to rush back to the hospital to bring Jace some hot food. Do me a favor and clean up the pots and pans.” The rich purple color on that toast stung my eyes like a needle. She forgot entirely. I absolutely despised blueberries. Looking at her rushing toward the door, a cold, mocking laugh escaped my lips. “You really go above and beyond for this precious student of yours.” “Rick, what exactly are you implying now?” She rarely lost her temper at me like this, narrowing her eyes in warning. “I treat all my students equally. If anyone in my lab got sick today, I would go take care of them!” “Really?” I looked up slowly, meeting her gaze without backing down. “Would you drink after your other students without flinching? Where did your crippling germaphobia go, Krista?” “I have no idea what nonsense you are talking about.” A brief look of being caught flashed across her face. She grabbed the lunchbox and tried to walk past me. I grabbed her wrist tight and shoved yesterday’s medical report right into her palm. “You do not have to understand. But you know how to read.” I scraped the blueberry toast straight into the trash can in front of her. By the time I turned around, the front door was already shut. That paper, the one concerning her very life, was crumpled into a ball and lying at the bottom of the wastebasket by the door. I stood frozen for a long time. It felt like an organ had been violently carved out of my chest, leaving a gaping, freezing hole. But strangely, I could not squeeze out a single tear. Eventually, I walked back to the guest room and quietly started packing my suitcase. Not long after, a courier dropped off the divorce papers Luke had prepared. I skimmed through the asset division. It was perfectly fair. No issues. Now, all I had to do was wait for her to come home, sign on the dotted line, and this absurd marriage would finally be over. At nine o’clock that night, the doorbell rang like a death knell. I ripped the door open. Jace stood there, panting heavily, practically carrying a blackout-drunk Krista in his arms. “At the lab project celebration tonight, the Professor took a bunch of heavy shots to protect me. I did not realize she was such a lightweight, yet she still tried so hard to look out for me.” I pressed my lips into a hard line and instinctively reached out to take my wife. Jace dodged my hands entirely. Walking in like he owned the place, he carried Krista into the master bedroom and laid her down. Then he walked back out, leaning against the doorframe, a venomous, mocking smirk on his face. “Old man, do not blame me for not letting you touch her. I know for a fact she thinks you are dirty.” “She is drunk now, sure, but even when she is sober, she probably gags at the thought of you touching her. Why else would you be married for seven years without a single kid?” He suddenly leaned in, lowering his voice like a snake. “After all, the Professor told me herself. Every time you get close, all she can think about is that night you were pinned down in the dirt by those street girls, having your clothes ripped off.” “She said you make her physically sick.” A deafening ring exploded in my ears. The string that had been pulled taut for nine years finally snapped. Years ago, Krista’s deadbeat dad owed a massive debt to some ruthless loan sharks. To help her pay it off, I sang at an underground bar downtown every single night. One early morning after my shift, I was targeted by a local girl gang. They dragged me into an alley, beat me half to death with baseball bats, and used box cutters to shred my clothes, humiliating me in every way possible. Krista rushed in like a madwoman with an iron pipe, smashing the leader’s head open. Afterward, she held me tightly in her arms, crying so hard she could barely breathe. Her hands were shaking so violently she could not even cup my face. “Rick, this is my fault. I swear to God, I will never let anyone hurt you again!” That was the darkest nightmare of my life at nineteen. That was the scar I had fiercely protected for eight years. And now, Krista had turned my deepest trauma into gossip, a joke to share with her little boy toy! I snapped my head up, my eyes bloodshot. “What the hell did you just say?” “I said, the Professor thinks you are a dirty…” He did not get to finish that word. My fist smashed violently into his jaw, crushing the syllables against his teeth. I threw my entire body weight into that punch. Jace screamed, flying backward like a broken doll. His forehead slammed hard against the edge of the glass coffee table, and blood immediately poured down his brow. He wiped the blood from his mouth, his face turning purple with rage and humiliation. “Screw you! Are you out of your damn mind?!” He lunged at me like a rabid dog. I raised my leg and kicked him square in the stomach, sending him to the floor. I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out the front door like a dead dog. “Get out! Get the hell out of my house right now!” The door slammed shut with a thunderous crash, completely sealing that disgusting piece of trash outside. Drained of every ounce of strength, I slid down the cold door panel to the floor, cold sweat soaking my back. In the dead silence of the house, Krista’s slurred, drunken mumbles drifted from the bedroom. “Rick…” If it were the past, I would have swallowed my exhaustion, brought her a warm towel, wiped her face, and changed her into pajamas. But tonight, I just stood by the bed, staring down at her for a long, long time. Finally, I slid the wedding band off my ring finger. I took hers off the vanity. I threw them both into the pitch-black trash can. Nine years. We were once the college sweethearts everyone envied. Now, we had reached a dead end where just looking at each other caused nausea. I slept in the guest room. The next morning, I was violently yanked out of bed by Krista. She stared down at me, her eyes filled with suffocating disappointment. “Rick, did you put your hands on Jace last night?” The sharp pain in my wrist snapped me fully awake. I forcefully shook her hand off. “What, seeing your precious student bruised up breaks your heart?” “His parents called the cops! The university dean is involved now! You are going to get dressed right this second, go to the campus, and bow your head to apologize!” Krista’s eyes were red with frantic anger. She hurled a jacket right at my face. Rubbing my red wrist, I let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, he has parents? The way he clings to you for everything, I thought he was an orphan.” “Rick!” She pointed a finger right at my nose, her eyes wide with fury at having her boundaries crossed. “How can you say something so venomous? When did you become such an unreasonable monster?” “I do not care what your excuse is, you are coming to apologize!” She dragged me out to her car like a prisoner and sped all the way to the university’s administration building. In the dean’s office, Jace sat on the couch with his head down, playing the perfect victim. A middle-aged man and woman sat on either side of him, screaming furiously at the department head. “My son is here at an Ivy League institution to do research! Now he is sitting here with a mild concussion! You people better give us an explanation right now!” “Professor!” Seeing Krista walk in, Jace acted like his savior had arrived. He jumped up, pointing at his bruised jaw to tattle. “I was just trying to be a good person and bring you home safely last night, but your husband falsely accused me of coming onto you. He attacked me like a psychopath. My head is killing me…” The moment his mother saw me, she shot up from the couch, her shrill voice piercing my eardrums. “So you are the uneducated piece of trash who put hands on my son! You are going to pay us fifty grand in damages today, or I swear I will see you behind bars!” I cast a dead, cold look at these clowns. I pulled out my phone and opened a screenshot. It was a photo Jace had posted on his stories at 2 AM and deleted seconds later. Unfortunately for him, I caught it. The background was the ER from the night before. Krista was asleep by his hospital bed, and he was leaning in, kissing her cheek. I zoomed in on the photo and shoved the screen right into his parents’ faces. “Sure, I will pay you. But first, I want to ask how you raised your kid.” “What kind of cheap trash secretly hooks up with his married professor while getting his master’s degree?” Jace and his father quickly exchanged a panicked glance. The next second, the middle-aged man charged at me like a raging bull, landing a heavy punch right on my jaw. “You worthless loser who got humiliated by a bunch of street girls dare to talk about my son? Too bad they did not just beat you to death in that alleyway!” The room spun violently. I staggered and collapsed, the back of my head cracking hard against the marble floor. The pain was so sharp I could not even scream. It took a long moment for my vision to focus again. I saw several twisted, ugly faces looking down at me. Krista stood nearby. A flash of worry did cross her eyes, but her body remained firmly planted in front of Jace and his father, protecting them. I forced myself up, clenching my fists, ready to rush the man and pay that punch back in full. But a pair of arms locked around my waist from behind. Krista held me back with all her strength. “Rick, calm the hell down! No matter what, you threw the first punch last night!” “Krista, let go of me!” My eyes were bloodshot. The years of suppressed betrayal and rage erupted from my chest like a volcano. Why? Why did everyone think they had the right to weaponize my deepest scars? Why! “Are you blind, Krista? Did you not see him hit me just now?” “Why did you tell them about that night? He used it to mock me to my face, are you deaf?!” My desperate, broken roar echoed down the hallway. College students walking between classes stopped and started peeking through the doors. Clearly feeling embarrassed, Krista pushed me out into the stairwell. “Go home and cool off. I have to take Jace to get a brain scan.” She turned around, shielding Jace as they tried to push through the gathering crowd. Just as we brushed past each other, the older man suddenly turned around, raised his hand, and shoved me hard by the shoulder. I lost my balance and tumbled down the steep staircase. My back slammed against the concrete steps, the impact feeling like it shattered my spine. But Krista merely looked over her shoulder, frowned in annoyance, and quickly looked away. I knew that look all too well. I was an embarrassment to her. A couple of male students finally stepped in and helped me up. I muttered a quiet thanks, gritted my teeth through the pain, and limped straight into Krista’s spacious private office. My phone buzzed. A flight notification popped up: [Boarding in 6 hours.] I reached into my inner jacket pocket, pulled out the signed divorce agreement, and laid it perfectly flat right in the center of her desk. I held up my phone, snapped a picture, and hit send. [I signed it. Krista, let us get a divorce.]

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1 After our eighteenth failed attempt at divorce, Mike suddenly stopped bringing it up altogether. It was a stark contrast to how things had been before. Every single attempt prior had ended in absolute chaos. I had slit my wrists, stood on the ledge of our high-rise, and plastered photos of him and his personal assistant all over the corporate lobby. At a press conference, I had publicly torn Isla’s clothes off, leaving her with severe post-traumatic stress disorder. He should have loathed me. Yet, the word “divorce” never crossed his lips again. He came home right on the dot every night, handed over his phone, and checked in every single hour. Even on business trips, we were on a round-the-clock video call. But the unease in my chest never faded. Day after day, I pestered him, demanding to know why he had given up on the divorce. He would only counter with a question: “Am I not doing enough?” It was good. Too good to be real. It wasn’t until he caught me tailing him yet again that the exhaustion in his eyes spilled over, and he finally told me the truth. “I got a phone call from myself, ten years in the future,” he whispered. “He told me that if I divorced you, I’d regret it.” I stood there, stunned. “And you actually believed that?” “He said you set a fire and burned Isla alive.” He looked up, his eyes harboring a dark, bottomless abyss of despair. “You’re too unhinged, Vivian. I can’t take that risk. I can’t afford to. We’re staying together. This is our life now.” That one sentence, “This is our life now,” pinned me to the floor like a pathetic clown. He hadn’t said a word about wanting to leave, yet every syllable dripped with pure, unadulterated hatred. Those dead eyes were a blade driven straight through my ribs. It wasn’t regret. It wasn’t an awakening. It was sheer terror and begrudging defeat. But this miserable, drag-out existence? Suddenly, I was done playing my part in it. Seeing me frozen, he didn’t try to soothe me as he once would have. He calmly slipped on his coat, masking his brief slip of composure, and systematically went through his schedule. “I will arrive at the office at two. The meeting starts at three and will run for two hours.” He paused halfway to the door, turning back. “By the way, I won’t be able to answer any calls or video chats during that time. If you don’t believe me, you can wait by the entrance.” Each word was measured, cold, and distant. Before I could even process it, the car door slammed shut. I watched his car shrink into the distance, a perfect metaphor for the chasm widening between us. The tears finally spilled over. The day I caught Mike and Isla together, I lost my mind. I took to scrubbing his skin raw with disinfectant and scanning him with UV lights. If I found a single stray hair, I would hysterically demand DNA tests for everyone in the office. He pleaded, claiming they had been drugged, showing me security footage and blood reports, but my mind refused to accept his betrayal. Then came the day he first slid the divorce papers across the table. “Vivian, I’ll give you eighty percent of my assets. Let’s just end this. I’m so exhausted.” That night was the first time I climbed onto the roof ledge. He had dragged me back, wild with terror, screaming in absolute ruin. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Torture me, destroy me, do whatever you want to me, just don’t hurt yourself! I can’t survive without you!” But why? Why was the man who claimed he couldn’t live without me now begging, time and time again, for me to let him go so he could be with Isla? The Seattle rain began to fall. I held an umbrella in my hand but forgot to open it. I suppose Mike had spoiled me over the last decade. I was so used to him driving me everywhere, holding the umbrella over my head, wiping my mouth at dinner. Even on crowded pedestrian streets, he had a way of pulling favors to park right at the storefronts I wanted to visit. And now, it was all gone in an instant. It felt as if a physical chunk of my heart had been carved out, leaving a hollow space for the icy wind to whistle through. I couldn’t even tell if the moisture on my face was rain or my own tears. Back at the house, a fever took hold of me. In my delirious haze, Mike was right there, wiping my burning skin with warm water and checking my temperature every fifteen minutes. When his assistant called to urge him to attend a meeting, he roared into the phone, telling them to go to hell. He was always this frantic whenever I fell ill. His hand wrapping mine was incredibly warm, yet my body wouldn’t stop shaking. The phone kept ringing, and he refused to answer. But the noise was too loud, eventually dragging me back to consciousness. The room was cold and empty. There was no one beside me. It was my own phone buzzing on the nightstand. Mike was never there. I swallowed the metallic taste rising in my throat and answered. “Mrs. Sinclair, Mr. Sinclair didn’t show up at the office today,” my private investigator reported. I froze. “He returned briefly, then headed straight to Oakwood Sanctuary. He’s been inside for over two hours now.” A wave of nausea hit me. Oakwood Sanctuary was the private care facility where Isla was staying. Mike’s parting words echoed in my ears: If you don’t believe me, wait by the entrance. How could he be so sure I wouldn’t show up? He said those words every single time he gave me his schedule. I had never believed him before, always choosing to wait. This was the one time I chose to trust him, and I was wrong again. I checked the time: six in the evening. Usually, he was home by five-thirty. Since he wasn’t coming back, I would go to him. In the past, every time I cornered him, he would shove the divorce papers in my face. This time, I had already signed them. Before I could even reach Isla’s room, a dozen bodyguards swarmed me, instantly on high alert. “Mrs. Sinclair, Mr. Sinclair gave strict orders. You are not allowed near Miss Isla.” Through the human wall, I caught sight of the door. A sticker of Mike and Isla, styled as cartoon puppies, was framed inside a pink heart. Below it, in playful font, were the words: Gav & Isla’s Hideaway. I forced a cold, empty laugh. “Childish.” I had once begged Mike to take those silly photobooth pictures with me. He had always dismissed it, saying a corporate CEO couldn’t indulge in such nonsense. It turned out he could; he just couldn’t do it with me. Clutching my aching chest, I took a deep breath. “Get out of my way. You know what I’m capable of when I lose my mind.” With that, I pulled a small utility knife from my bag. I only meant to scare them. But in the next second, a bodyguard lunged forward, slamming me onto the hard floor. The others pinned my limbs down, trapping me completely. “Apologies, ma’am, but Mr. Sinclair was very clear. At the first sign of an episode, we are to contain you immediately.” Another guard spoke rapidly into his radio. “Sir, your wife is here. She has a knife…” Before he could finish, Mike’s frantic voice cut through the static, sharp and panicked. “Then pin her down! Do it now! What if she hurts Isla?!” My struggles ceased instantly. “She is contained. Should we transport her back to the estate or lock her up here?” The radio went quiet for two agonizing seconds. Finally, a heavy sigh crackled through. “Forget it. Bring her in.” The knife had been wrestled from my grip, but in the scuffle, the blade had sliced my wrist. As they escorted me into the room, blood dripped onto the floor. I bit my lower lip, fighting back the tears. But the moment the door swung open, I froze. The evening sun filtered through sheer curtains, bathing a rocking chair on the balcony in warmth. Beside it stood a small side table holding a cup of steaming coffee and an open book. In the corner, a vintage record player spun a soft jazz record, Mike’s favorite. This wasn’t a sterile hospital room; it was a home. Specifically, it was the exact home I had designed. Before our wedding, I had hand-drawn every detail, blending our tastes perfectly. But Mike had told me he didn’t want me stressing over construction, hiring a design firm instead to build our mansion in an entirely different style. Now, the dream home I had envisioned stood right before me, serving as a sanctuary for him and another woman. “You’re here,” Mike’s voice drifted from behind me. I turned, my face pale. Before I could mask my shock, he spoke again. “Isla always loved this design, so I had it recreated for her. You don’t mind, do you?” I stared at him in disbelief. “What do you think, Mike?” He nodded slowly. “Then tear it apart, Vivian. If it makes you happy, destroy it.” He looked at my bleeding wrist, showing nothing but a flicker of disgust. “I’m used to your theatrics, and so is Isla.” He looked toward the window, his tone so calm it was as if he were merely remarking on the weather. “Look, Vivian, a rainbow.” I followed his gaze. The rain had cleared, leaving a beautiful arch across the sky. But the storm raging inside me felt like it would never end. “Gav, sweetie, come play It Takes Two with me…” Isla’s voice abruptly cut off as she noticed me. The controller slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the floor. She grabbed her head, screaming hysterically. “No! Don’t strip me! Don’t kill my baby! I’m a home-wrecker! I’m a mistress! I’m sorry, please… I won’t do it again!” Mike rushed over, pulling her tightly into his arms. His eyes welled with protective rage. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here. No one will ever hurt you again.” As he muttered those soothing words, his eyes locked onto mine, burning with unmasked hatred. A laugh bubbled up from my throat, dry and hollow, until tears streamed down my face. For a split second, I wanted to lung forward, drag Isla to the balcony, and throw us both over the edge. But my remaining sanity whispered that they weren’t worth my life. I dug my fingernails into my palms, fighting the urge to drag her down with me. I sneered, “Cut the act, Isla.” She flinched, burying her face deeper into Mike’s chest. “I… I don’t know what you mean.” I let out a harsh laugh. “PTSD doesn’t look like that.” Mike rose, stepping in front of her like a shield. “Enough! If you want to lash out, do it to me. Stop acting like you know everything, and don’t you dare slander her.” But I did know. I had lived with the disease for over a decade, ever since the day I watched my mother die. Whenever the memory of her blood pooling on the pavement flashed in my mind, I would spiral into vomiting, sobbing, and self-harm. I had never told a soul that my mother took her own life because my father had loved someone else. I had sworn I would never step into the trap of marriage. Yet Mike had staked his entire corporate future and the rest of his life to promise me he would never betray me. I believed I wouldn’t end up like my mother. But in the end, I was walking the exact same path: the screaming, the madness, the self-destruction. I was done with it. I reached into my bag to retrieve the signed divorce papers. Mike’s expression morphed into pure terror. “What are you doing?! Grab her!” Before my hand could leave my bag, the guards slammed me back onto the cold marble floor. Mike marched over and kicked my bag away, the force of the blow vibrating through my hands. “As long as I draw breath, you will never lay a finger on her!” I stared up at his face, a messy mix of terror and fury. I recalled a night when he slipped out of bed while I pretended to sleep. Suspecting he was sneaking off to see Isla, I crept after him, only to overhear him asking the receiver if the Vivian of ten years later would still be this unhinged, and if keeping himself alive was the only way to shield Isla. I hadn’t understood those hushed words then. Now, it all clicked. That was the mysterious call from his future self. He was utterly terrified of me. No matter what I did, he would assume it was a plot to harm Isla. My cheek pressed against the freezing marble, as cold and dead as my heart. I let out a soft, tired laugh. “The papers are in my bag, Mike. I already signed them.” Mike eyed me suspiciously before rummaging through my bag. He pulled out the documents, glanced at my signature, and immediately tore them into shreds. “I told you! I am not divorcing you!” I looked at him calmly. “Just because of that phone call?” Isla tugged gently at his jacket sleeve. “What phone call, Gav?” “It’s nothing,” he muttered. “But you promised to give me a home,” she whimpered. Mike’s fists clenched, his face flushing crimson. “Don’t ask questions. Just know I’m doing this for your own good.” Isla’s eyes welled with tears. Gently wiping them away, he whispered, “I will give you everything, Isla. Everything but the title of my wife.” Those words were meant for me, too. He would give her everything, while keeping me locked in a gilded cage of a hollow marriage. It was all so incredibly pathetic. “Just sign the papers, Mike. I’m not going to burn her alive,” I said quietly. “That phone call? I hired someone to make it with a voice-modulator.” Mike went rigid, his eyes widening in pure shock. “You’re lying!” “Of course it’s a lie,” I muttered, turning my head away. “I was terrified you’d actually leave me, so I fabricated the whole thing.” He hesitated, his brow furrowing. “But the caller knew everything about my childhood. Things only I would know.” I scoffed softly. “I’ve known you for a decade, Mike. I know your secrets. I knew exactly how to play you.” Silence descended upon the room. He stared at me, his gaze intense and searching, trying to decipher my mind. I pressed my forehead against the cold floor, hiding the tremor in my lips. It was the first lie I had ever told him since the day we met. Perhaps there really had been a call from the future. Perhaps he truly would regret everything ten years down the line. But I didn’t care anymore. I was too tired. I took a deep breath, raised my head, and masked my features with a look of pure indifference. “Well? Are we signing or not? This is your one and only chance.” Slap! Mike’s palm struck my cheek, leaving a stinging heat in its wake. “You can play your hysterical games all you want, but this crosses the line,” he snarled. “You are completely out of your mind, Vivian!” He waved his assistant over. “Print a new set of divorce papers. Now!” I thought my heart had gone numb, but the empty space in my chest still throbbed with a cold, sharp ache. The papers were brought in minutes later. He scrawled his name across the bottom and flung the sheets at my face. “You’ll get half the estate. I won’t pinch a single penny. But remember this, Vivian: I never want to see your face again.” At his command, the guards finally released me. I scrambled up from the floor, gathered the sheets of paper, and walked out without looking back. On the drive back, the skies opened up. The pouring rain soaked me to the bone, yet my mind had never felt clearer. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. It was an unknown number. “Vivian, listen to me,” a voice rasped. It sounded exactly like mine, but older, tired. “I am you, ten years from now. You must divorce Mike. But please, don’t do anything stupid. Don’t hurt yourself, and whatever you do, don’t start a fire. If you do, he will make your life a living hell forever.” I remained quiet for a moment. “It’s done,” I whispered. “I’ve signed the papers. And I won’t hurt myself.” The voice on the other end let out a long, ragged sigh of relief. “Thank God. Go live your life, Vivian. Be happy.” The line went dead. I stared at the screen and nodded. Two phone calls from ten years in the future, warning of two entirely different fates. I had no desire to unravel the mystery of which was real. I was simply done living in fear. Back at the estate, I packed light. A few casual clothes, my passport, and some essential documents. That was all I had to show for a decade of marriage. The painted portrait of the two of us on the nightstand stood out like an eyesore. Mike had always claimed he hated cameras, which was why we didn’t have a single wedding photo. Yet, in Isla’s sanctuary, every corner was decorated with snapshots of them: surfing on sunny beaches, enjoying the snow under a winter sunset. They had explored the world together while I was trapped in this dark house. In that portrait, we looked like two fictional characters, standing side-by-side but entirely detached. I shattered the glass frame, tore the canvas right down the middle, and claimed only my half. At the airport, my phone began to buzz. Mike’s name flashed on the screen. I declined it. He called again. I declined it again. Then, the messages started flooding in. I never told you how I got the scar on the bottom of my foot! That phone call was real, wasn’t it? You lied to me. You’ve never lied to me before! Vivian! Where the hell are you?! I powered down my phone and buckled my seatbelt. An hour ago, I had made a call to my father. Right now, his private jet was carrying me far away, heading toward a city where the sun never stopped shining.

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1 On a long-haul flight, I used professional emergency medical techniques to save a pregnant woman suffering from anaphylactic shock. Shortly after, her family filed a formal complaint against me for “excessive physical contact” and “inappropriate touching,” claiming I was a pervert taking advantage of the situation. I was suspended from the hospital pending an investigation. The pregnant woman even went on Instagram Live, crying to her followers. “Girls, please be careful of the creeps hiding in white coats.” A week later, she collapsed in a luxury shopping mall from another severe allergic reaction. Her husband tried to guilt-trip me into saving her again. I took three full steps back. “You brought this on yourselves again. How much money are you planning to extort from me this time?” The cabin lights were dimmed at thirty thousand feet, with most of the passengers fast asleep on the international flight. My name is Lennie, an attending OB/GYN at a prestigious medical center in Seattle. I was on my way to Europe for a perinatal medicine symposium. Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted from the front rows. The head flight attendant’s voice immediately shattered the silence over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a pregnant passenger experiencing a severe medical emergency. Any medical professionals on board, please come to first class immediately!” Driven by pure professional instinct, I unbuckled my seatbelt and sprinted toward the front. In the aisle of the first-class cabin, a woman who looked about seven months pregnant was slumped awkwardly in her wide seat. Her name was Sophie. Her face was turning a terrifying shade of bluish-purple, and her hands were desperately clawing at her own throat. A horrific wheezing sound tore from her windpipe like a broken bellows, and her eyes were already rolling back into her head. She was wearing a cream-colored, tightly knit maternity dress that fell past her knees. Angry red hives were rapidly spreading across her neck and wrists. “I am an OB/GYN, move out of the way!” I shoved past a panicked flight attendant. I pressed my index and middle fingers hard against Sophie’s carotid artery while keeping my eyes glued to her chest. Five seconds. No pulse. No breathing. “Her heart has stopped!” “The anaphylaxis has progressed to cardiac arrest!” My voice cut through the chaos, commanding the room. “Flight attendant! Get the emergency medical kit, a 0.5mg epinephrine auto-injector, the AED, an oxygen tank, and two pairs of trauma shears right now!” Her husband, Derek, had bleached blond hair and a flashy Rolex on his wrist. Right now, he was curled up in the adjacent seat, shaking like a leaf. He had his head buried in his knees, lacking even the basic courage to look at his dying wife. “You, get over here and help!” I pointed right at him. Derek flinched violently, shaking his head in a panic. “I cannot do it. I pass out when I see blood. I am scared I will hurt the baby!” A chill of absolute disgust washed over me. I had no time to waste on this coward. I turned to the flight attendant standing next to me. “Ma’am, I need an extra pair of hands.” When my eyes fell back on Sophie, I hesitated for a fraction of a second. As a male doctor specializing in women’s health, I knew exactly what it meant to forcefully remove a woman’s clothing in a public setting. One wrong move, and my entire career could be destroyed. But her gray, lifeless face left absolutely no room for hesitation. I took the shears and sliced her knit dress all the way down to her pubic bone in one swift motion. “Did he really have to cut it open that much?” a passenger whispered loudly from behind. I ignored them entirely. I grabbed the AED pads and shouted my warning. “Shock advised. The defibrillator is charging. Clear the patient!” The second the electric current tore through her body, Sophie’s chest violently arched off the seat and slammed back down. Almost instantly, her chest began to rise and fall on its own. A weak, ragged cough escaped her throat. The terrifying purple hue began to recede from her face. “She is back! We have a pulse!” A collective gasp of relief swept through the first-class cabin. I let out a massive breath. My dress shirt was entirely soaked with cold sweat. “Get the oxygen mask on her. Maximum flow.” Before I could even finish my sentence, a brutal force slammed into my side. Caught completely off guard, I was thrown against the armrest of the opposite seat. A blinding pain shot through my shoulder. “What the hell do you think you are doing?!” “You absolute sicko!” Derek, the same man who was too terrified to even look at his wife a minute ago, lunged at me like a rabid dog, punching me squarely in the collarbone. Stars exploded in my vision. Before I could even find my footing, he was pointing a trembling finger in my face, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Look at this guy, everybody!” “This bastard used saving a life as an excuse to assault my wife!” “He stripped her half naked in front of a crowd!” “He felt her up and took advantage of a pregnant woman!” The entire first-class cabin fell dead silent. Every single pair of eyes locked onto the half-exposed pregnant woman and me, still kneeling on the floor. I gripped my throbbing shoulder and forced myself to stand, swallowing the rising fury in my throat. “Sir, you need to calm down.” “Your wife was in ventricular fibrillation.” “If I had not cut her clothes open to apply the defibrillator pads directly to her skin, she and your unborn child would be dead right now.” “Screw your medical excuses!” Derek roughly snatched a fleece blanket from a flight attendant and threw it over his wife, who was still gasping weakly for air. He whipped around and roared at me hysterically. “You are just a twisted pervert!” “You saw my wife is gorgeous, you recognized she is a famous influencer, and you wanted to get a feel!” “Who the hell strips a woman naked for first aid?” “You are a male doctor. Do you not know anything about boundaries?” “You did this on purpose!” As he screamed, he pulled out his phone and shoved the camera lens inches from my face. “Look at this disgusting creep, guys!” “A supposed respectable doctor, publicly assaulting a seven-month pregnant woman on a flight!” The head flight attendant rushed forward to block his phone. “Sir, please put the camera away.” “The situation was critical. This doctor saved her life, and all the crew members here can testify to that.” “Testify my ass!” Derek shoved the flight attendant away violently. His eyes darted around the cabin before he raised his voice, his tone dripping with blatant extortion. “Let me make this clear.” “My wife is a premium first-class passenger and a public figure!” “Unless I see a hundred grand in emotional damages for this trauma, I am going to ruin you. I will make sure you never practice medicine again!” Looking at his greedy, opportunistic face, a freezing wave washed over my heart. In my ten years of practicing medicine, I had snatched countless lives back from the jaws of death. But this level of ungrateful, parasitic behavior was a first even for me. I stared coldly straight into his camera lens and adjusted my wrinkled collar. My voice was eerily calm. “Since you clearly lack even basic medical knowledge, we will let the authorities explain it to you.” “I am more than happy to cooperate with a police investigation.” Three hours later, the plane touched down smoothly at our destination airport. The moment the cabin doors opened, the heavy thud of boots echoed down the jet bridge. Four armed airport police officers marched directly into the first-class cabin. Seeing the uniforms, Derek instantly plastered on a mask of agonizing grief. He played the victim beautifully, rushing up to the officers and pointing straight at my face. His voice was loud enough for the entire front half of the plane to hear. “Officers, this is the sick pervert!” “He stripped my wife in public and assaulted her while she was unconscious.” “He was so aggressive he almost killed my unborn son in the process!” The lead officer held up his badge. “Both parties are coming with us to the precinct for a statement. The flight crew will accompany us as witnesses.” “We will pull the cabin security footage and the medical logs, and this will be handled strictly by the book.” 2 The atmosphere inside the airport police precinct was suffocating. Because of this ridiculous disturbance, my connecting flight to the medical symposium was entirely ruined. I sat at the mediation table, calmly providing the officers with the exact medical protocols and emergency procedures I had followed. The head flight attendant sat beside me as a witness, truthfully recounting the terrifying moments when Sophie was literally dying in her seat. Derek, however, acted like a brick wall. He refused to listen to a single word of logic. “I do not care about your medical jargon.” “All I know is this creep took my wife’s clothes off in front of fifty people and had his hands all over her body!” Derek slammed his hand on the metal table, spit flying from his lips. The exhausted detective sighed and pulled Derek into the hallway to try and calm him down. A few minutes later, the detective had to step out to take a phone call. Derek and I were left completely alone in the interrogation room. The second the door clicked shut, the agonizing grief vanished from Derek’s face. He pulled out a chair, sat down across from me, and dropped the hysterical victim act completely. He leaned in, lowering his voice with a greedy, calculating smirk. “Dr. Lennie, right?” “You look like a smart guy with a lot to lose.” “An attending physician at a top-tier hospital. Bright future ahead of you.” “It would be a real shame to lose your medical license over a little misunderstanding like this, would it not?” I kept my eyes fixed on the table and did not say a word. He took my silence for fear. He planted both elbows on the table, his eyes shining with malice. “A hundred grand.” “Just wire a hundred grand for ’emotional distress,’ and this entire thing disappears today.” “Otherwise, my wife has two million followers on TikTok and Instagram. I will have her do a livestream dedicated entirely to you. Her fans will tear you to pieces and spit you out. Your career will be over by midnight.” Looking at his smug face, I felt a wave of genuine physical nausea. “Derek, your wife was literally seconds away from a body bag.” “And the only thing going through your head right now is how to use her near-death experience for a quick payout?” I stood up slowly and adjusted my cuffs, looking down at him with absolute contempt. “You are not getting a dime. If you want to throw a temper tantrum on the internet, be my guest.” “But do not say I did not warn you. Defamation is a felony, and it carries real prison time.” “Fine! Do not come crying to me when your life is ruined!” Derek kicked his chair back violently and slammed the door behind him. That very same night, I booked the first available flight back home. The next morning, the moment I walked up to the main entrance of Mercy General Hospital, I froze. Over a dozen clout-chasing livestreamers and freelance tabloid reporters were crowding the hospital steps, shoving cameras and microphones in every direction. “There he is! Dr. Lennie is here!” “That is the creep who assaulted the pregnant woman!” Someone screamed my name, and the crowd swarmed me like sharks smelling blood in the water. The camera flashes were absolutely blinding. A barrage of malicious questions hit me like artillery fire. “Dr. Lennie, do you have a fetish for pregnant women?” “How do you sleep at night using your medical license as a cover to assault vulnerable women?” The hospital security team had to physically drag me through the mob and lock the glass doors behind us just to get me to the administrative wing. Inside the Chief of Medicine’s office, the air pressure was practically nonexistent. The Chief, his face pale with fury, slid an iPad across the mahogany desk toward me. “Look at this mess, Lennie!” “The hospital switchboard has been completely jammed since dawn. Our social media pages are being nuked by a cybermob!” “Half of your current patients have called in demanding to be transferred to other doctors.” “We even had people show up at the front desk this morning demanding we delete all their medical records because they refuse to be in our system.” On the iPad screen was a video Sophie had posted late last night. She was wearing an oversized hospital gown. Her face was makeup-free, her eyes red and swollen, and she was crying beautifully for the camera. “Guys, I am so traumatized. I never imagined that just taking a normal flight could turn into a living nightmare.” “This doctor, Dr. Lennie, waited until I was unconscious from an allergic reaction…” “And forcibly ripped my clothes off.” At this exact moment, she purposefully pulled down the collar of her gown, exposing a glaring red burn mark just below her collarbone. It was the textbook erythema left behind by the electrical discharge of a defibrillator pad. But Sophie looked right into the lens and sobbed uncontrollably. “Look at this. These are the bruises he left on me from grabbing me so hard!” “If my husband had not physically fought him off, I might have lost my baby.” “Please, girls, watch out for yourselves out there. Be careful of the monsters hiding in white coats.” This heavily edited, completely fabricated video had been brewing all night. The like count was already sitting at over two million. The comment section was an absolute bloodbath. Thousands of angry users were doxxing my address and demanding the hospital strip my license. Whenever a medical professional tried to leave a comment explaining that the marks were clearly from an AED and the clothing removal was standard protocol, they were immediately dogpiled by the self-proclaimed internet justice warriors. “Anyone defending this pervert is probably a predator too.” “You doctors always cover for each other. We should report you to the police too and get you locked up.” “Cancel them all. Clean up the trash in this society.” The Chief let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “Lennie, I know you followed protocol. I know you saved her life.” “But the court of public opinion does not care about medical facts. The public does not know how an AED works. All they see is a male doctor tearing the clothes off a pregnant woman.” He pushed a printed document toward me with a grimace. “To stop the bleeding and calm the PR nightmare, the board has decided to confiscate your badge.” “You are suspended indefinitely. Go home and lay low.” I looked down at the suspension notice, silent for a long moment. I calmly unclipped my ID badge from my chest and placed it on the desk. The moment I set it down, my phone buzzed. It was a former patient of mine whose life I had saved during a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. I still vividly remembered the beautiful thank-you basket and framed card she and her husband had personally delivered to my office after her discharge. I remembered how jealous my colleagues were of that card. I thought at least some people would still believe in me. But when I answered, she was crying on the other end. “Dr. Lennie, I know in my heart you are a good man.” “But my husband saw the news, and he strictly forbade me from ever coming to your clinic again. I am so sorry.” My mind went completely numb. Just as I walked out the back exit of the hospital, my phone screen lit up. It was a text message from an unknown number. “Still trying to play the noble hero?” “Pay up, or I will make sure you never hold a scalpel again for the rest of your miserable life.” I stared at the provocative text, a cold, sharp smile creeping onto my lips. I immediately dialed an international number. “Hey, it is Lennie. I need a massive favor.” “Yeah, I need you to pull some data for me.” “Contact the airline from my flight yesterday. I need the raw EKG and electrical discharge data logs directly from the backend of the AED I used on that plane.” 3 My days on suspension were surprisingly peaceful. I did not break down or go crazy like the internet mob wanted me to. I did not rush to Twitter to post a ten-page essay defending my innocence. I slept in until my body naturally woke up. I went to the premium grocer, bought the freshest cuts of meat, seared steaks, and brewed pour-over coffee. I even spent time out on my balcony trimming my neglected houseplants. Meanwhile, the digital witch hunt was reaching a fever pitch. The real-world insanity was just as hellish. Sophie was fully cashing in on the massive traffic her “victim persona” generated. Instead of resting after a near-fatal cardiac event, she leveraged the viral fame to host two massive livestreams a day. She branded herself as the “Brave Pregnant Mother Fighting Big Pharma and Corrupt Doctors.” Her viewership skyrocketed. Everything she promoted—maternity wear, baby products, even sketchy detox supplements—sold out in seconds. Derek pushed his scumbag behavior to the absolute limit. He hired a group of local thugs to stand outside my gated community and the hospital entrance with massive banners. The banners were painted in blood-red letters: “Dr. Lennie is a Predator. Justice for Mothers.” He publicly posted a photo of my medical license and my personal cell phone number across all social media platforms. My phone did not stop ringing for three days straight. My inbox was flooded with death threats, calling me human garbage and telling me to end my life. Some people even texted me graphic, gory images. I eventually had to trash my SIM card and get a brand-new number I had used for twenty years. I spent an entire afternoon calling my close friends to give them the new contact info. When I called my parents, I specifically lied and said I dropped my phone in the sink just so they would not worry. Before I could even finish the lie, a suffocating, heavy silence hung over the line. My throat tightened. It took everything I had just to push the words out. “Mom… do you not believe me either?” “You gave birth to me. You raised me. You should know exactly what kind of man I am.” Before I could say anything else, my mother’s suppressed sobs broke through the speaker. “Your dad saw the news on Facebook.” “His chest started hurting. He had a mild heart attack. We just got back from the hospital yesterday.” “It is not that we do not believe you, Lennie.” “But you know how much your father cares about his reputation. He was so incredibly proud when you became an attending at that hospital. He bragged about you to everyone in the neighborhood.” “Just rest at home for now. Find some evidence and clear your name.” “Otherwise, with your dad in this condition, his heart…” “Oh God, if something happens to your father, I do not want to live anymore!” “I cannot even walk out the front door without the neighbors staring!” I hung up the phone. I heard a strange scraping noise coming from the hallway. When I opened my front door, I saw fresh red paint splattered across the wood. A dead rat had been tossed right onto my welcome mat. In my community’s WhatsApp group, a neighbor forwarded Derek’s fabricated post. The caption read: “This is the doctor living in Building 3. Keep your kids away from him. Who knows what else a creep like that is into.” When I walked downstairs to take out the trash, the older residents who usually sat under the oak trees gossiping immediately went dead silent. They stared at me with pure disgust. Once I walked past, they started whispering loudly enough for me to hear every word. I felt a cold sweat prickling the back of my neck. Bang! My best friend Stella slammed her hand on my dining table, shaking with sheer rage. As the ruthless Operations Director of the city’s largest luxury mall, she was usually a woman of iron control. Right now, her eyes were rimmed red with fury. “Have you lost your damn mind, Lennie?” “These scumbags are ruining your entire life, and you are standing here casually making Beef Wellington?” Stella snatched the pepper grinder right out of my hand. “Do you realize your social security number and home address have been doxxed on Twitter? If this keeps up, your medical career is permanently buried!” I calmly sliced off a perfectly medium-rare piece of steak and placed it in my mouth. I chewed slowly, swallowed, and elegantly pulled a napkin to wipe my hands. “What is the rush? Let them dig their own graves.” I picked up my glass of Merlot, my eyes as cold as absolute zero. “Those whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad.” Right at that exact second, my new phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered it and put it on speaker. Derek’s greasy, arrogant voice immediately blasted through the room. “Have you thought it over, doc? A hundred grand. Not a penny less.” “I am sitting at the artisanal dessert cafe on the third floor of the Starcrest Mall.” “I am giving you exactly thirty minutes to bring a cashier’s check, or I am having my wife go live right here, right now.” “We will strip away whatever dignity you have left and make sure you are working at a gas station for the rest of your life.” I raised an eyebrow and remained silent. Stella absolutely lost her mind. “That piece of trash! He has the nerve to sit in my mall and pull this crap?!” I let out a dark chuckle into the receiver. “Alright. I am on my way.” I hung up. Stella grabbed my arm instantly. “Are you insane? You are actually going to pay him?” “Pay him?” I grabbed my car keys and slipped a USB flash drive into my coat pocket. “I am going to deliver a ‘surprise’.” “I am going to take this evidence and smash it right into his smug face. I want to watch him realize exactly how stupid he is.” 4 “Sophie! Sophie, what is happening?!” Derek stood a full step away from his wife, panicking completely, too terrified to even reach out and touch her. “Somebody help her!” “Somebody save my wife and my baby!” He screamed at the growing crowd of shoppers. “Please! Somebody call 911!” On the marble cafe table right in front of Sophie sat a half-eaten slice of Basque cheesecake. It was the cafe’s signature dessert. The third ingredient listed on the menu was crushed peanuts. Her phone was still mounted on a ring light tripod on the table. The high-definition lens was broadcasting her violent, agonizing convulsions live to the internet. The live chat was scrolling so fast it looked like a waterfall. Stella gasped, covering her mouth. “This… this is just poetic justice, is it not?” I stared blankly at Sophie, whose breathing was growing weaker by the second on the cafe floor. The livestream chat was exploding. “Oh my god! Is she having an allergic reaction? This is exactly like the airplane video!” “Is there a doctor in the mall?! Someone save her, she is going to die!” Derek looked down at his convulsing wife, then up at the impenetrable wall of onlookers surrounding them. He lunged forward to grab the nearest person by the jacket. “Please!” “Save my wife!” “Is anyone a doctor?!” The second his hand came close, the bystander violently shoved him away and backed up. “Whoa, hey, I am no doctor, do not put this on me!” Derek’s face drained of all color. He spun around wildly. Wherever his eyes landed, the crowd instinctively took a collective step backward. The people who had been pushing forward to film the drama just seconds ago were now standing at least six feet away, avoiding him like the plague. Right in the middle of his panic, Derek snapped his head around and locked eyes with me standing at the very front of the crowd. His eyes lit up like a flare. It was as if he had just found a lifeline. The terror vanished from his face entirely, instantly replaced by his usual arrogant, entitled bullying. “Lennie!” “You are a doctor!” “You know how to fix anaphylactic shock! Get over here and save my wife right now!” His words were a lit match thrown into a powder keg. The crowd erupted. “Wait, that is the doctor from the internet scandal!” “Yeah, you are a doctor, how can you just stand there? That is so cold-blooded!” “He is an OB/GYN, and he is just going to let a pregnant woman die? He has zero medical ethics!” “You wear the white coat to save lives. If you do not save her, who will?” The avalanche of moral condemnation crashed down on me. Everyone glared at me with absolute disgust, treating me like I was a cold-blooded murderer. Stella was shaking with rage. She opened her mouth to scream at them, but I grabbed her wrist to stop her. I looked at Derek’s repulsive face, a freezing smile forming on my lips. “Why exactly should I save her?” Derek froze for a second before stomping his foot and screaming. “Because you are a doctor!” “Saving lives is your sworn duty!” “If you stand there and let her die, you do not deserve to wear the white coat!” “My duty?” I laughed coldly. “The last time I saved her life, you accused me of sexual assault and tried to extort a hundred grand from me.” “You ruined my reputation, got me suspended, and told me you would make sure I never held a scalpel again.” “And now, you want to lecture me about my sworn duty?”

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1 At the landslide rescue site, Buddy, the award-winning search dog I raised from a pup, found every trapped survivor. But during the evacuation, a secondary collapse occurred. Steve’s apprentice, Suzie, got pinned on the edge of the collapsing slope, half her body dangling over the cliff. Crying, she shouted to Steve, “Captain, I wish there were no Maya in our next life. I wish we could be together out in the open…” The radio channel went dead silent. Ignoring everyone’s warnings, Steve scrambled up the unstable rocks like a madman, risking his life to pull her to safety. Even after evacuating the danger zone, Suzie clung to him, refusing to let go. Steve frowned as he tried to explain. “Maya, Suzie is just terrified. She is talking nonsense. You are a senior officer. Do not hold it against a young girl.” Then he took Buddy’s leash from my hand and passed it to Suzie. “Did you not always want to be his handler? Now, he is yours.” Suzie took the leash cautiously. “But… won’t Maya be upset?” I looked at the young girl I had pulled from the rubble three years ago. I brought her onto the team, taught her how to train dogs, and listened to her call me mentor. But I never imagined she wanted my fiancé and my dog. Whatever. The doctor said my illness could not wait any longer. If you want them, take them. … I used every ounce of my strength to swallow the blood rising in my throat. I turned and walked toward the medical tent to take my medication. Seeing me leave, Buddy instantly panicked. He violently jerked his leash out of Suzie’s hand and bolted toward me. Suzie chased after him. “Maya, are you okay?” Buddy suddenly spun around, baring his teeth at Suzie and letting out a menacing bark. It looked like he was going to lunge and bite her in the next second. Suzie stumbled backward in fear, her eyes immediately filling with tears. Steve arrived just in time. Instinctively, he pulled Suzie behind him and shouted at Buddy. “Buddy, sit!” Buddy did not back down. He stayed firmly planted in front of me, glaring at Suzie. Steve’s face darkened. “Maya, control your dog.” “Suzie was just checking on you. Did you seriously let Buddy scare her just to humiliate her?” My voice was a little hoarse. “I did not.” Steve let out a cold laugh. “You trained him. One look from you, and he knows exactly what to do.” Suzie tugged lightly at Steve’s sleeve, her voice trembling. “Captain, let it go. Maya didn’t mean it.” “Buddy is just too loyal to her…” That sentence, which sounded like an excuse for me, only made Steve’s expression colder. “Maya, Suzie just came down from a landslide! She almost died!” “Do you really have to be this petty right now?” I did not answer. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would spit up blood. After the rescue operation ended, the team pulled back to camp. What happened over the radio channel spread quickly. Someone leaked her exact words into the local volunteer rescue group chat. “Captain, I hope in our next life there is no Maya. I hope we can be together out in the open…” The chat group exploded with gossip. “Was Suzie not crossing a massive line with that?” “What exactly is going on between Captain Steve and her?” “Wait, isn’t Maya the Captain’s fiancée?” Someone even posted a photo from the scene. In the picture, Suzie was curled up in Steve’s arms. Buddy stood in front of me, in a highly defensive posture against them. Someone in the group commented: “Even the dog knows how to protect his real owner, but the man… yikes.” When that comment reached Suzie, she cried so hard she almost hyperventilated. When Steve came to find me, I was taking my pills. Just as the medicine hit my tongue, he pushed the door open. I hurriedly hid the pill bottle in my sleeve. Steve saw the movement but completely ignored it. He went straight to interrogating me. “Did you tell someone to leak the radio audio?” I froze. He scoffed coldly and kept going. “Maya, I know how calculated you are.” “You know exactly how to manipulate public opinion.” “You do not cry or make a scene, but this silent treatment is far more vicious.” A bitter taste flooded the back of my throat. Before I could even speak, Suzie’s soft voice came from the doorway. “Captain…” Steve turned around immediately. Suzie stood by the door, her eyes red. “Buddy will not come with me.” Steve’s face grew even darker. He turned and walked out, trying to pull Buddy away. But Buddy dug his paws into the floor frame, refusing to move, keeping his eyes locked on me. Steve spun around and roared at me. “Maya, what the hell have you taught this dog?!” “He is a search and rescue K-9! Not a tool for your petty jealousy!” “Get over here and tell him you do not want him anymore!” He reached out and yanked my arm. I was already in so much pain I could barely stand. The sudden pull made me lose my balance, and my abdomen crashed hard against the edge of the desk. An explosive, agonizing pain ripped through my stomach. My vision went completely black for a second. Buddy struggled violently and barked loudly at Steve. Steve’s expression turned furious. “Look at him! Now he is growling at me! Are you happy now, Maya?” Fighting through the blinding pain, I weakly commanded: “Buddy, down.” Buddy stopped, but his eyes were filled with deep anxiety. It was as if he knew how much pain I was in. Steve shoved the leash back into Suzie’s hands. “Take him.” Suzie gripped the leash, took a few steps toward me, and said softly: “Maya, do not worry. Buddy will get used to me eventually.” “Just like the Captain did.” I jerked my head up to look at her. Buddy instantly bristled, the hair on his back standing up as he growled at her again. Steve didn’t hear what Suzie said, but he saw Buddy’s reaction. He immediately pulled Suzie behind him again. “Maya! Buddy is a working K-9, not your personal weapon!” “Do you want an aggression record in this decorated dog’s file?!” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The next day, the video of Buddy aggressively protecting me from Suzie was posted on a local forum. Within the rescue community, the public opinion completely flipped. “Look, even if Suzie has no shame and her relationship with Steve is shady, Maya should not use a decorated K-9 as leverage, right?” “Cancel Maya! A rescue dog’s job is to save lives, not attack people!” “Exactly! Using a dog to attack someone just to keep a fiancé is taking it way too far!” I did not defend myself, because none of it mattered anymore. I did not have much time left to live, and I could no longer protect Buddy. All I could do was organize Buddy’s training logs as thoroughly as possible. So that when I was gone, he could still shine and save lives. I exported the training files. It contained every single one of Buddy’s habits. Before Buddy executed a search command, he always looked back to make sure I was there. Buddy was terrified of thunderstorms; on stormy nights, someone had to hold him while he slept. After every mission, he had to smell my hand first. He would only eat once he confirmed I was not injured. When I handed the file to Suzie, she bit her lip gently. “Maya, are you really giving Buddy to me?” I looked at her and asked: “Is this not what you have always wanted?” She lowered her voice. “The Captain said Buddy only listens to you. As long as you do not truly let go, he will never accept me.” “Maya, you are already this sick. Why will you not just let go? You cannot expect him to just waste away beside you, right?” I froze. Suzie immediately put on a panicked expression. “I did not mean it like that. I am just worried about Buddy. And the Captain… he cannot be dragged down by you forever…” I stared directly into her eyes. “You knew I was sick?” Suzie’s eyes darted away shiftily. “You look terrible. Anyone can tell.” Anyone can tell? But Steve never noticed. I looked at her face, remembering three years ago. Back then, Suzie’s village was buried under a mudslide. When our rescue team arrived, she was the only survivor. The young girl was sobbing hysterically in the mud. My heart broke for her, so I brought her onto the team. After that day, she started calling me her mentor. She helped me bathe Buddy, and she would sneak him extra treats. After every training session, she would chase after me with a notebook, asking: “Maya, why did Buddy look back at you just now?” “Maya, is it true that a rescue dog only bonds with one handler?” “Maya, do you think I can train an incredible dog like Buddy one day?” I always answered, “Yes.” But slowly, the things she asked began to change. “Maya, does the Captain only listen to you?” “Maya, if Buddy goes on a mission with me, will he look back at me too?” “Maya, if one day I am good enough to stand beside the Captain, will people stop calling me the pathetic orphan you dragged out of the mud?” Back then, I just thought she suffered from low self-esteem, so I comforted her over and over. “Suzie, you are doing great.” “You will find your own path.” But now I finally understood. She did not want her own path. She wanted mine. I looked at her and spoke slowly. “Suzie, do you think that just because I saved your life, I owe you everything?” “My dog, my fiancé, my career, the rest of my life—do I have to hand it all over to you?” Tears spilled from Suzie’s eyes. “Maya, that is not what I meant…” Right at that moment, Steve walked into the room. Seeing Suzie crying, his face darkened instantly. “Maya! You are unbelievable!” I looked at him and nodded. Steve, you are unbelievable too. That night, I was jolted awake by a stabbing, twisting pain in my abdomen. I did not know when Buddy had sneaked back in, but he was lying by my bed. He rested his head near me and looked up with sad eyes. I stroked his head, my voice extremely hoarse. “Buddy, was I just too stupid?” “I brought her onto the team. I taught her how to take care of you…” “Buddy, I do not want to leave you, but I am dying…” Footsteps approached from the hallway. Suzie pushed the door open. “Maya, Buddy went missing…” When she saw Buddy lying by my bed, her eyes instantly turned red. “Why did he come back to you? Why will you not just let go?!” Buddy stood up, placing his body firmly between her and the bed. Steve walked in right behind Suzie. Seeing the scene, his expression turned freezing cold. “Maya, are you having Buddy intimidate her again?” He pulled Suzie behind him defensively. “When did you become this vicious?” I looked at him, suddenly too exhausted to even explain. Buddy blocking Suzie was not a command I gave. It was because I was running a severe fever. It was because I smelled like sickness, and it made him anxious. But Steve could not see any of that. During the last rescue operation, Buddy’s performance was outstanding. Throughout his service career, he had officially located and saved exactly one hundred people. The team decided to hold a commendation ceremony for him. Right before it started, Steve pulled me aside. “I am putting Suzie in the center today. She has been getting a lot of hate online lately. She needs some positive PR.” “You have received plenty of commendations already. Suzie has nothing.” Those one hundred lives were people Buddy and I pulled from the rubble together, one by one. His first mission, I lay in the freezing rain with him for eight hours. The first time he got injured, I carried him to the vet and stayed up all night watching over him. When he was scared of thunder, I held him to sleep. When he had to take bitter medicine, I coaxed him for hours. And now, with a single sentence—”Suzie has nothing”—Steve was giving away all of Buddy’s honors. I stayed silent for a long time. Finally, I nodded. “Okay.” At the ceremony, Steve stood dead center. Suzie held Buddy’s leash, standing right beside him. I stood off stage, at the very edge of the crowd. The other team members exchanged awkward glances. Buddy refused to sit still. He kept turning his head, looking for me. The photographer asked him to pose. Suzie gave a quiet command. “Buddy, sit.” Buddy did not react at all. Steve shot a look at me. I understood what he meant. From the shadows off stage, I gave a subtle hand signal. Only then did Buddy sit. The camera shutter clicked. In the photo, Steve and Suzie stood proudly beside Buddy. I was not in the frame. Suzie took the microphone to give a speech. “Thank you, Captain, and thank you, Maya.” “I know I still have a lot to learn.” “But I will work hard to take care of Buddy, and to take care of…” She abruptly stopped. She almost said Steve’s name. The entire venue fell silent for a fraction of a second. She quickly corrected herself: “To take care of the team’s missions.” I stood off stage, clapping. I clapped until my palms went numb. Once the photos of the transfer ceremony were posted online, the comment section exploded again. “Where is Maya?” “Buddy gets honored, and his original handler is not even in the photo?” “They haven’t even explained the radio incident yet, and the apprentice is already standing next to the Captain?” “This isn’t a K-9 transfer ceremony. This is a mistress coronation.” “Even the dog looks miserable.” Suzie had a complete breakdown and locked herself in her dorm room. Steve came to find me again, speaking to me with absolute authority. “Maya, you need to release a public statement.” “Say that we broke up amicably, and Suzie had nothing to do with it.” “Say that the K-9 transfer was your idea, and that you give her your blessing.” I looked at him and asked quietly: “When exactly did we break up amicably?” Steve averted his eyes. “Given the situation, do you really want this to get any uglier?” I let out a weak laugh. “Steve, am I the one making this ugly?” His face darkened. “Maya! Suzie is getting so much hate she is about to quit the team. What more do you want from her?” “She is the apprentice you pulled from the rubble yourself. Can you not just let her off the hook this once?” I looked at him for a long, long time. “Fine.” I opened my laptop and started drafting the statement. Suddenly, Buddy bit down on my sleeve and yanked me backward. He was stopping me from typing. I patted his head. “Buddy, drop it.” Buddy refused to let go. Steve lost his temper. “Buddy!” He aggressively pulled Buddy away. I was already half-kneeling to comfort him. When Steve forcefully yanked the dog, I lost my balance and slammed into the corner of the desk. A blinding pain shot through my abdomen. My vision went completely black. The pill bottle on the desk was knocked off, and my medical file crashed to the floor. Steve’s immediate reaction was to scold me. “Maya, that is enough! Can you stop putting on an act with Buddy?” Suzie rushed to the doorway. “Maya, please do not do this. I know it hurts to lose Buddy.” “But you already agreed to give him to me. Why are you acting like this to force me to give him back?” I wanted to speak, but a metallic, sweet taste flooded my throat. The next second, I could not hold it back anymore. Right in front of them, I vomited a mouthful of dark blood. The office went dead silent. Buddy broke free from Steve’s grip, bolted to my side, and frantically nudged me with his head. He let out panicked, desperate whines. Steve froze completely. He bent down and picked up the fallen medical file. The official diagnosis report slid out.

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1 Another rejection from a sports broadcasting job crushed what little confidence I had left. I went to Hans, my boyfriend and a fitness coach, desperate for help. He smirked dismissively at the bar. “Sienna, you’re already this heavy. What’s the point of losing it now? Just give the opportunity to Bella.” Bella was his best friend, petite and perfect. I was larger, weighed down further by steroids from an illness, a solid thirty pounds heavier. Hans turned cold when I stayed. “I’m busy. Bella’s waiting for her seventh nutrition plan. If you want to lose weight, stop bothering me. The internet’s full of trainers.” He pulled out his phone and posted in their group chat: Looking for a trainer to help my girlfriend drop thirty pounds of pure fat. Bidding capped at five bucks. Bella saw the screen and laughed hysterically, spinning to raise her glass to the bar. “Live auction! Thirty pounds of pure, unadulterated fat from Hans’s girl! Bidding starts at fifty cents!” Laughter erupted, but no bids came. My cheeks burned, wishing the floor would swallow me. As I turned to flee, a young man in the dim corner stood up. His baseball cap was pulled low, but he raised a silent, commanding hand—bidding the maximum price. The bar fell dead silent. Under the shocked gazes of everyone present, the man walked straight up to me. He took my phone from my trembling hands and typed in a string of numbers. “Add my number. My name is Sebastian.” As he leaned down, the neon lights caught the angles of his face. He was breathtakingly handsome, with a jawline carved from marble and eyes that held absolute focus. Before I could even process what had happened, Sebastian handed my phone back and walked out of the bar. I accepted his friend request. A message popped up in the chat almost immediately. “What is your current weight?” I bit my lip, tasting copper, and typed out the brutal truth. “One hundred and forty pounds. I just got dropped from a sports commentator audition because they said I was too big for the camera.” He replied the second my message delivered. “You look to be around five foot seven. Based on your BMI, you are entirely within the standard healthy range. You are not fat.” Not fat? I stared at the screen, completely frozen. Ever since I was put on those hormone medications a year ago, my weight had spiked. And the moment the numbers on the scale changed, Hans started making comments. “Is it really that hard to just lose a little weight? Look at Bella. She barely weighs anything. You are seriously embarrassing me, Sienna. If you do not drop the weight, I am done with you.” Over time, his words became my reality. I truly believed I was morbidly obese and entirely beyond saving. My phone buzzed again. Sebastian had sent another text. “If you need to be camera ready, I can help you cut body fat and sculpt your physique.” “Tomorrow morning, ten o’clock. 67 Oakwood Avenue. Ignite Fitness, third floor.” Hans leaned over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of the glowing screen. Seeing the words Ignite Fitness, he let out a loud, mocking snort. “Of course he is a gym rat. He is probably trying to lure you in with a free trial session. Once he is done sweet talking you, he is going to bleed you dry charging by the hour.” I placed my phone face down on the sticky table and said absolutely nothing. Hans shook his head, rolling his eyes as he went back to peeling shrimp for Bella. Noticing the weird looks they were getting from the next table, Bella raised a defiant eyebrow. “What are you looking at? My boy here has always been this attentive.” Hans smiled fondly, feeding the peeled shrimp directly into her mouth. “Stop talking and just eat.” Bella giggled, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “You guys have no idea. I used to be such a picky eater when we were kids. Hans literally spoon fed me until I gained weight.” Watching them, a specific memory violently forced its way into my mind. Last year, the three of us went hiking and got stranded on a trail for nearly five days due to a storm. I had not eaten in three days. I was weak, dizzy, and starving. And I watched Hans take my very last emergency protein bar and hand it directly to Bella. When I looked at him in sheer disbelief, he defended himself with perfect confidence. “You have plenty of extra weight anyway. Starving for a bit is the perfect diet for you.” My chest felt like it had been smashed with a sledgehammer. It hurt. It really hurt. My phone vibrated again. Another text from Sebastian. “Do not come on an empty stomach tomorrow. Protein intake is crucial for women during a fat loss phase.” Before I could even type a reply, my work group chat exploded with notifications. [Tagging everyone. The head office is organizing a Varsity Soccer Championship in three months. The sales department needs to nominate one female commentator. Pay is three grand a day. The CEO of the company will be attending in person.] The chat instantly went wild. However, Bella and I were the only two women in the entire sales department. Colleagues immediately started chiming in, saying that if Bella went on camera, she would definitely make our branch look incredible. Bella sent a voice memo to the group, her tone laced with fake humility. “Oh stop it you guys! Something like this definitely needs to be a fair competition.” Someone instantly replied. “It is already a done deal, what is there to compete over? Sienna definitely would not dare to sign up!” “Exactly! The camera adds ten pounds anyway. Why would our little chubby girl want to humiliate herself on national television?” “This represents the face of our entire branch! Sienna absolutely cannot do it!” My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I had already missed out on the World Cup qualifiers. Now there was this varsity league. But whatever confidence I possessed had been slowly chipped away by countless rejections. Right at that moment, Sebastian’s text illuminated my screen. “Forgot to mention. A great commentator relies on professional knowledge, not just a pretty face.” Those words echoed in my mind for three entire days. After agonizing over it, I finally filled out the application form. When Hans found out, he lost his mind trying to talk me out of it. I ignored him, burying my head in soccer statistics and player data. Seeing that his anger was not working, Hans softened his voice, trying a different tactic. “Just withdraw the application, okay? Be good. I promise I will personally take you to the gym. How about that?” I shook my head, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “No need. I already booked a private coach.” Hans’s eye twitched violently. “A private coach? Do not tell me it is that random meathead from the bar?” I nodded simply. “He is far more professional than you. And his physique is significantly better than yours.” With that, I grabbed my gym bag and walked out the door. Hans’s furious, disbelieving roar echoed through the apartment. “He is just a brainless gorilla! You train with him, you are just going to get bulkier and fatter!” His words reminded me of the time he supposedly tried to help me lose weight. He drove his car at a crawling pace, blasting the air conditioning, while forcing me to jog behind him under the scorching summer sun like a stray dog. Twelve miles. I ran until my knees were destroyed, until the pain kept me tossing and turning in agony all night. When I told him I was in pain, he called me dramatic. He said if I did not want to put in the work, I should just stay fat forever. We had been together for eight years. Yet he could never remember that I was deathly allergic to shellfish, or that my favorite food was spicy braised beef. But he knew with crystal clarity that Bella only ate her steaks medium well, and that she absolutely adored seafood. When I arrived at the gym, Sebastian skipped the small talk entirely. He handed me a physical assessment form. “Step on the scale. Let us check your body fat percentage.” The monitor displayed twenty eight percent. He glanced at it, his tone completely neutral. “Target is around twenty two percent. Three months is more than enough time.” After a ten minute warm up, he led me straight into the free weight section. He started me on the lightest dumbbells, teaching me the mechanics of squats and deadlifts. He manually corrected my posture, placing his hands firmly on my back to show me exactly which muscles should be firing. After every single set, he made me face the mirror to watch my movement trajectory. “Having a larger frame is actually a massive advantage. You have a larger surface area for muscle attachment. Once you lean out, your natural curves and muscle definition are going to look stunning.” I gritted my teeth and pushed through four grueling sets. By the end of it, my thighs were trembling violently uncontrollably. When the session was finally over, I collapsed onto the rubber floor, completely out of breath. Sebastian tossed a clean set of athletic wear right onto my lap. “Change into these. I am taking you somewhere.” He led me out the back doors of the fitness center to an indoor five a side soccer pitch. Ever since I started dating Hans, I had never stepped foot on a pitch again. He hated the sport, so I gave it up. Seeing the green turf, a dark, suffocating corner of my heart suddenly felt like it was finally breathing again. At three in the afternoon, my phone rang. It was Hans. “Sienna, come home early today. Bella is craving garlic butter shrimp.” I looked down at the faded burn scar on the back of my hand, a permanent reminder of the last time I cooked that dish for her. For the very first time, I realized none of this was worth it. In the past, as long as seeing them happy brought some semblance of peace, I did not care about the burns or the effort. But today, my voice was like ice. “I am cutting calories, so I am not eating dinner. If she wants shrimp, she can cook it herself. Or you can cook it for her.” Hans paused, completely taken aback. “But Bella has lost weight recently. Can you not just take care of her a little bit?” I gripped the phone tightly, enunciating every single word. “I am not her mother. Why exactly is it my job to take care of her?” Furious, Hans hung up on me. He did not come home that night. A full week later, he finally texted to say he was temporarily staying at a buddy’s place. Half a month later, I scrolled past Bella’s social media and saw a photo of her laundry rack. Hanging right in the center was Hans’s underwear. Perhaps the physical toll of the body recomposition was just too intense. Because looking at that photo, I was so exhausted I could not even muster a single drop of anger. A month into training, I had dropped five pounds. It was a historic milestone for me. I excitedly took a mirror selfie and posted it online, specifically tagging Hans. Three hours later, Hans, who never interacted with my posts, left a single comment. “That is it?” He had absolutely no idea how much sweat, nausea, and sheer willpower went into those five pounds. But checking my notifications, I realized Sebastian had liked the photo the very second I posted it. Just as I opened our chat to thank him, a message popped up. “There is a small reward hanging on your door handle. After you eat it, remember to do an extra set of squats.” I opened my front door and found a tiny, four inch gourmet cake waiting in a beautifully wrapped box. My nose stung, tears threatening to spill. For years, sweet treats were the only way I knew how to comfort myself when I felt worthless. But Hans always treated it like a sin, calling me a glutton with zero self control. Three months passed in a blur of sweat, aching muscles, and relentless discipline. I did not drop down to a hundred pounds. But looking in the mirror, my body looked vastly different. I looked stronger, curvier, and infinitely more radiant than I ever did when I was desperately starving myself. The day of the final commentator audition arrived. I tore through my closet but could not find a single piece of clothing that fit my new proportions. Everything hung off me like a potato sack. As panic started to set in, the doorbell rang. A courier handed me a stunning bouquet of fresh flowers and a sleek black gift box. The card simply read Happy Birthday. Signed, Sebastian. His handwriting was sharp, elegant, and entirely pleasing to the eye. I opened the box to find a classic, beautifully tailored black dress that perfectly matched my aesthetic. I slipped it on. It fit like a second skin, accentuating curves I did not even know I had. I had stopped celebrating my birthdays ever since I started gaining weight. Because Hans told me birthdays were just an excuse to eat massive dinners and cake, which would only make me fatter and more repulsive. But who wrote the rule that birthdays could not just be about beautiful flowers and thoughtful gifts? I checked my messages. The last time Hans spoke to me was exactly three months ago. I let out a self deprecating chuckle, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door. When I arrived at the company lobby, I was just about to step into the elevator when a very familiar voice called out from behind. “Hey gorgeous, hold the elevator!” I turned around. And locked eyes with a sweating, out of breath Hans. We had not seen each other in nearly three months. It made sense he did not immediately recognize me from the back. The range of emotions that crossed his face was cinematic. Shock. Confusion. Awe. Eventually, the undeniable absolute stun in his eyes morphed into a dry, awkward sentence. “Sienna. Why the hell are you dressed up like that for no reason?” I did not even look at him. My voice was utterly detached. “I have an audition today.” The elevator doors opened on the top floor. The moment I stepped out, I saw Bella standing by the water cooler, her eyes brimming with dramatic tears. “Hans, it is a disaster! I feel like my face looks so swollen today!” Hans immediately rushed over, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to coddle her. “Nonsense, you are perfect. It is just water retention. Later I will have Sienna make you some detox soup, and I will give you a facial massage before bed. I promise you will look flawless on camera.” I stood rooted to the spot. All I wanted to do was laugh. During the years my medication made me gain weight, I used to cry out of sheer frustration too. But back then, Hans told me I deserved it. He said I had no self control, and that it was completely natural for me to look like a pig. It turned out he was never lacking in gentleness. He was not just some clueless, emotionally stunted guy who did not know how to comfort women. His patience and his attention were just never meant for me. When my name was finally called for the audition, my palms were sweating profusely. My phone screen suddenly lit up. It was Sebastian. “Do not be afraid. You understand the game better than anyone else in that building. Own your confidence. You earned this.” I took a deep, grounding breath and pushed open the heavy oak doors. …… When the audition ended, I walked out of the corporate building and immediately spotted Hans’s car idling by the curb. He rolled down the window, his expression painfully awkward. “Get in. Let us go home.” We dated for eight years. Despite his office being less than a five minute drive from mine, he had never once picked me up from work. He always had excuses. Too much traffic, too busy, too tired. I could barely remember them all. But the real reason started when Bella complained about taking the subway. The very next day, Hans became her dedicated personal chauffeur. When I expressed how unfair that was, he told me I should walk home anyway, treating it as mandatory cardio. I glanced at the training schedule Sebastian had just texted me and shook my head dismissively. “No thanks. I have a private training session.” The very afternoon I received the official email confirming I got the commentator position, my phone started ringing off the hook. It was Hans. The second I answered, he started screaming at me. “This is all your fault! You triggered Bella’s anxiety! Can you just give the commentator spot to her? You owe her that much!” His tone was exactly the same as always. A blatant, uncompromising demand. But why the hell should I? I gripped my phone tightly, a cold laugh escaping my throat. “I won that spot with my own abilities. Why would I ever give it up?” “Sienna, it is just a stupid broadcasting gig! What are you even fighting for? Bella is fragile, she needs a win. Can you not have a shred of empathy?” Hans’s voice was dripping with absolute disgust and impatience. I bit the inside of my cheek hard and replied without a second of hesitation. “No. And Hans, we are done. We are breaking up.” Complete silence fell over the other end of the line for several agonizing seconds. Followed immediately by a venomous accusation. “Break up? Sienna, are you sleeping with that meathead trainer?” A loud ringing echoed in my ears. A chill shot straight from the base of my spine to the top of my head. The very next morning, before the sun even rose, violently loud knocking woke me up. The moment I opened the door, my mother started screaming in my face. “What kind of decent girl puts her face on television for men to gawk at?! How are you ever going to get a respectable husband doing something so shameful? Has Hans not been good enough to you? Why do you always have to cause so much drama?!” I stared at my mother’s face, a face completely worn down by years of submitting to a miserable life. Suddenly, my chest felt like it was suffocating under a massive boulder. When I was a child, my father constantly told her she was a worthless, pathetic housewife. And so, she truly believed she had zero value. I took a deep breath, forcing the hot tears back down. Right at that moment, Hans’s phone rang. Whatever Bella said on the other end made the blood completely drain from his face. For the first time in his life, he lost all composure and roared at me like a madman. “Sienna! Are you seriously trying to destroy Bella?!” A photo of Hans and Bella passionately kissing at a bar had gone viral on local social media pages. The headline read: This guy has a girlfriend, but still insists on exploring ‘platonic mouth to mouth friendship’ with his best bro. It turned out that during a party a few weeks ago, Hans lost a game of Truth or Dare. The penalty was to choose someone in his friend group and kiss them. All the guys aggressively backed away. But Bella stepped right up, wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and smashed her lips against his. The entire venue had gone completely silent. Everyone’s eyes immediately darted to me. When they finally broke apart, Bella just shrugged at the crowd with a completely unfazed smirk. “What? Just because I am a girl means I am not one of the bros anymore?” The comment section on the viral post was an absolute warzone. “Is this guy blind? His so called best bro is a massive pick me girl.” “Knowing the guy has a girlfriend and still throwing yourself at him? This girl has zero shame!” Hans was sweating profusely, frantically typing out a public response. “We are genuinely just very good friends! Please do not read into this and twist the narrative!” But the internet was absolutely not buying it. The mockery only intensified. “Oh wow, pure innocent friendship between a man and a woman? The kind where you shove your tongues down each other’s throats? How do you even look your girlfriend in the eye?” Reading the brutal comments, Bella started hysterically sobbing, threatening to end her own life. Desperate, Hans turned to me, demanding my help. “Sienna, go online and clear this up! Tell everyone you were there and it was a joke! Do not just stand there and watch her die!” I lowered my eyes, my expression utterly void of sympathy. “But you two actually kissed. Are you seriously demanding I go online and lie to thousands of people to protect you?” Bella rubbed her tear stained eyes, looking at me with overwhelming manufactured innocence. “Sienna, even if you hate me and want to ruin my life, you should at least think about Hans’s reputation!” Before I could even turn away, Hans violently grabbed my wrist. His voice was lethal. “Sienna. Do not push me.” The very next second, Bella pulled out her phone and started a live broadcast. In less than five minutes, the viewer count broke ten thousand. She stared directly into the camera lens, tears streaming down her perfectly contoured face. “Actually, I know exactly why Sienna leaked those photos to destroy me. It is because she has always been insanely jealous of me.” “And what you guys probably do not know… When Sienna was younger, she was stalked, kidnapped, and locked in a dark basement by a psychopath. The extreme trauma completely ruined her brain. She has severe paranoia and is mentally unhinged. She cannot stand seeing normal people be happy.” It felt like a bolt of lightning struck my spine. I froze, completely paralyzed. That secret… that horrific trauma… only Hans knew. When I finally trusted him enough to tell him, he held me tightly and swore to the heavens. “Do not be afraid anymore. I will protect you for the rest of my life. I will never let anyone hurt you ever again.” Yet here he was, standing completely silent as the woman he loved took my most excruciating, intimate pain and forged it into a blade to butcher me in front of the world. Silent tears cascaded down my cheeks. Hans shielded Bella from the cameras and escorted her away, leaving me standing entirely alone. That night, Bella went on a massive posting spree, claiming my past psychiatric medications proved I suffered from severe clinical delusions. She even dug up the most unflattering, bloated photos from my heaviest weight and posted them everywhere. Her caption read: Your ugly soul manifests in your ugly body. Placed right next to her heavily filtered, delicate selfies, the public opinion completely flipped. My personal information was leaked online. Strangers tore my life apart, mocking my appearance and my past. My parents’ phones rang endlessly with harassment calls. Someone threw a bucket of red paint entirely over my apartment door. Furious at the embarrassment, my father called and officially disowned me. My mother slapped me across the face so hard my ears rang, screaming at me to never show my face in their hometown ever again. But the next morning, something inexplicable happened. Every single piece of information, every photo, and every malicious thread about me vanished from the internet. Completely wiped clean. Furious, Bella posted a cryptic, passive aggressive update. “Someone clearly has a very powerful sugar daddy backing them up. No wonder she managed to secure the broadcaster position over actually talented people.” The comments underneath were filled with people cursing my name. The toxicity lingered right up until the day of the championship broadcast. Sitting in the studio, the moment I looked at the red recording light on the camera, my entire body began to shake uncontrollably. I closed my eyes. I forced myself to remember the absolute faith Sebastian had poured into me over the last three months. I forced myself to remember the agonizing muscle soreness, the pools of sweat, and the sheer grit it took to rebuild myself from the ground up. It was all for this exact moment. Even if I only managed to be brave this one time. I had to fight for my own dignity! By the time I finally steadied my breathing, there were only ten minutes left until we went live. Suddenly, the heavy studio doors were violently pushed open. Hans stormed into the broadcasting room. “Sienna, do not embarrass me on national television. Get up. We are going home right now, and we are going to discuss wedding plans.” Bella trailed right behind him, her arms crossed tight. “In what universe is she better than me?! The company definitely rigged this selection!” The production crew and my co hosts began whispering among themselves. Hans let out a heavy, patronizing sigh and marched straight toward me, grabbing my arm. “Let us go home. You do not belong in that chair. You are not meant for this.” I ripped my arm out of his grasp, my blood turning to ice. In his eyes, I would always be fundamentally worthless. Even now, as I sat on the verge of finally shining, his first instinct was to pull me back into the dirt because he genuinely believed I was incapable. Just as Hans raised his hands to physically drag me out of the chair, the main doors of the studio swung open once more. Over a dozen men in sharp black suits marched in, forming two intimidating lines. The oppressive aura they carried instantly silenced the room. A familiar, towering figure strolled casually down the center. The man’s voice was absolute and unyielding, echoing off the high ceilings. “Whether Sienna belongs in that chair or not, I make the final call.”

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1 When I hit rock bottom, I sold myself into a marriage of convenience. Upon hearing the news, my younger sister cried her eyes out, telling me a man’s dignity was worth more than all the money in the world. I just rolled my eyes at her. “It is time to cash in on that dignity.” Fortunately, Victoria kept her end of the bargain after we tied the knot. She treated both me and my sister incredibly well. Naturally, I played my part to perfection. At the corporate office, I was her flawless executive assistant. At home, I was her attentive, reliable house husband. As for her private life, I never asked a single question. I truly thought we would spend the rest of our lives in this quiet, transactional peace. Until the third year of our marriage, when the one that got away finally returned from abroad. It was a Sunday. I was scrubbing the hardwood floors in the living room when my mother in law and father in law walked in, trailing a strange man behind them. Margaret did not even spare me a glance. She bypassed me completely and made a beeline for Victoria. “Victoria, look who I brought back for you!” She shoved the man forward like he was a grand prize. Seeing him, Victoria froze. Her usually stoic, icy expression cracked for a fraction of a second. The man smiled, his tone dripping with intimate familiarity. “Long time no see, Victoria.” I observed Victoria carefully. She maintained her composure, but the flicker in her eyes betrayed her. When she remained silent, the man did not miss a beat. He turned his attention directly to me. “You must be Dante. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.” I leaned against my mop handle and straightened my posture. “Really?” “Tell me, how much of a pleasure is it, exactly?” He clearly did not expect me to go entirely off script. He stood there, frozen in awkward silence. I took the opportunity to size him up. Wire rimmed glasses, decent looking, with a polished, academic vibe. But there was an unmistakable cunning glint in his eyes. I knew his type entirely too well. He was a perfect gentleman on the surface, but absolute poison underneath. The kind of sleazebag who would sell you broken glass and swear on his mother’s grave it was a flawless diamond. Seeing me completely disrespect her golden boy, Margaret glared at me furiously. “Dante, where are your manners? Do you not see Ridley trying to shake your hand?” I glanced at Ridley’s hand, which was still awkwardly suspended in the air, and gripped my mop tighter. “My hands are full, Margaret.” With that, I ignored them and went back to scrubbing the floor. Margaret exploded, screaming insults at my back, but I tuned her out entirely. Eventually, Arthur pulled me into the kitchen to defuse the situation. “Let them catch up. You and I can get dinner started.” I actually had no issues with my father in law. Like me, he had married into the family wealth. Technically, we were brothers in arms. Arthur closed the kitchen door tight and lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. “Dante, you need to watch your back with Ridley.” “He is Victoria’s childhood sweetheart. Her first love. Your mother in law absolutely adores him.” I narrowed my eyes. No wonder the guy walked in here like he owned the place. So this was the legendary one that got away. “Why did they break up in the first place?” Arthur sighed heavily. “Youthful stubbornness, mostly. When they graduated college, Ridley wanted to move abroad, and Victoria needed to stay and inherit the family empire.” “Neither of them was willing to compromise, so they walked away angry.” I nodded slowly. That definitely sounded like the Victoria I knew. In the five years we had known each other, I had never seen her bow her head to anyone. “So what is he doing here today?” Arthur rolled his eyes at me. “Are you dense?” “He stepped off the plane and came straight here before even dropping his bags at home. What do you think he wants? He is here to steal your wife.” I clicked my tongue. If any other trophy husband were in this position, they might just swallow their pride and endure it. But I refused to back down. Even knowing that the destructive power of a first love rivaled a nuclear bomb, I had my own reasons to hold my ground. 2 Once dinner was served, Margaret eagerly pulled Ridley to the dining table. Victoria sat directly across from them. Noticing Victoria kept her distance, Ridley smiled warmly at Margaret. “Actually, I think I will sit next to Victoria.” Margaret playfully patted his arm. “You are exactly the same as you were back then, always wanting to be glued to her side. Go on.” I was not about to let that happen. I ripped off my apron, practically sprinted to the table, and planted myself firmly in the chair right beside my wife. Victoria gave me a look of pure bewilderment at my blatant territorial display, but she kept her mouth shut. Since Victoria did not kick me away, Ridley had no choice but to awkwardly sit back down next to Margaret. Margaret rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck in her skull. I feigned absolute innocence. “Are your eyes bothering you, Margaret? Should I fetch you some eye drops?” Her face turned an ugly shade of purple as she let out a loud, dramatic scoff. Arthur shot me a warning glare while gently patting his wife’s back to keep her from hyperventilating. Perhaps fearing I would actually give her mother a heart attack, Victoria cleared her throat. “Let us just eat.” Throughout the meal, Victoria and I ate in silence while Margaret and Ridley whispered conspiratorially. Seeing that Victoria and I were not exchanging a single word, Ridley clearly thought he saw an opening. “Victoria, try the garlic shrimp. It is fantastic.” “Have some of this broccoli too, it is great for your health.” Within minutes, he had piled a small mountain of food onto Victoria’s plate. She frowned deeply and placed her silverware down. “Ridley, you know I do not eat food that has been touched by someone else’s utensils.” I was practically doing cartwheels in my head. This idiot was completely out of practice. He was trying so hard to kiss up to her, but completely missed the mark. Seeing Ridley’s mortification, Margaret immediately jumped to his rescue. “Victoria, you were never like this before! Have you forgotten how Ridley always used to serve you food when you were younger?” Victoria completely ignored her mother. She turned her head slightly toward me. “Hubby, get me a piece of those ribs. I cannot reach them.” Hearing her call me that sent a jolt of pure satisfaction straight to my core. I immediately picked up a tender rib and fed it directly into her mouth. Margaret completely lost her mind. “Victoria, what is the meaning of this?!” “Ridley serves you food, and it is contaminated.” “Dante serves you food, and you eat it right out of his hand?!” Victoria’s brows knitted together. “Is there a problem?” Ridley could not hold back anymore. “Did you not just say you hate eating food touched by other people?” Victoria stared at him with freezing indifference. “Dante is my husband. He is not other people.” Absolute perfection. In our three years of marriage, this was the very first time she had defended me so fiercely. Even if I was just a pawn she was using to spite her ex, I gladly accepted the role. Ridley’s face darkened, his eyes glaring daggers at me. “Did you cook all of this, Dante?” I stayed silent, waiting for the punchline. “It is decent, I suppose. You make an adequate stay at home husband.” Margaret snorted. “If he could not even handle basic chores, I would have thrown him out on the street years ago.” Ridley waved his hands in mock humility. “Now, do not say that. Finding a willing, live in maid is not easy these days.” “I really should thank him for taking such good care of Victoria while I was gone.” Margaret nodded in vehement agreement. “You are entirely right.” I ignored their pathetic little duet, keeping my peripheral vision locked entirely on Victoria. She had put her utensils down entirely, her eyes locked onto her mother and Ridley in absolute disgust. 3 Sensing Victoria’s intense glare, Ridley offered a weak laugh. “Just making a joke, Dante. You are not offended, are you?” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Your jokes are almost as laughable as your face.” That struck a massive nerve. “What did you just say about my face?” Before I could even open my mouth, Victoria let out a genuine chuckle. It was a sound completely devoid of warmth. It was pure, unadulterated mockery. Margaret slammed her hand onto the mahogany table. “What exactly is so funny, Victoria?” Victoria dabbed the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin, her voice terrifyingly calm. “When someone is genuinely attractive and you call them ugly, they never get angry.” “Because they know you are just projecting your own insecurities.” “But when someone is actually ugly, and you point it out, they lose their minds.” “Because they know you are telling the absolute truth.” I burst into genuine laughter. Even Arthur had to cover his mouth to hide his amusement. A stoic person delivering a deadpan insult was utterly lethal. To be entirely fair, Ridley was not a bad looking guy. But compared to my near flawless genetics, he did not stand a chance. Furious and utterly humiliated, Ridley grabbed his coat and stormed out without another word. The parasite was finally gone. We happily resumed our dinner, leaving Margaret to stew in her own toxic rage. After dessert, Margaret dragged Victoria into the study. Arthur and I cleared the table. I could not hide my smug grin. “Honestly, Arthur, if that is the legendary first love, I am incredibly underwhelmed.” Arthur’s expression turned grim. “Do not get cocky, Dante.” “Ridley is her first love. Do you have any idea how much weight that carries?” His words hit me like a bucket of ice water, completely sobering me up. He was right. Who ever truly forgets their first love? Even after years of silence, there is always a lingering ghost in the back of the mind. The road ahead was going to be brutal. When Victoria finally emerged from the study, she looked exhausted. After her parents left, she collapsed onto the velvet sofa, rubbing her temples. “Dante, do not bother coming into the office tomorrow.” “I need to go out with Ridley.” I agreed instantly. “Sounds good. I wanted to visit the hospital tomorrow anyway to see Sophie.” She looked up, clearly caught off guard. “You are not even going to ask where Ridley and I are going?” I shook my head. “We set the rules when we got married. I do not interfere in your private life.” She let out a sharp, frustrated breath and marched straight to the master bedroom, slamming the door shut. She was clearly angry. I freely admit that after three years of marriage, I still had absolutely no idea how to navigate her erratic moods. 4 When I woke up the next morning, Victoria was already gone. After forcing down a quick breakfast, I drove straight to the medical center. Lying in her stark white bed, Sophie looked up at me with tear filled eyes. “Dante, my legs hurt.” A heavy weight dropped in my stomach. The phantom limb pain was back. “It is okay, sweetie. The pain will go away soon.” Sophie immediately dropped the pitiful act, her eyes widening in mock terror. “Wait, you are not planning to pull the plug on me, are you?! Never mind, I feel completely fine now!” I glared at her, but a laugh slipped out anyway. She had always been a chaotic, bright spark of energy. If it had not been for that catastrophic car crash three years ago that paralyzed her from the chest down, she would be thriving on a college campus right now. After calling the specialist in and adjusting her medication, the color finally returned to her cheeks. “So, I heard the CEO’s golden boy is back in town.” “Are you going to be out of a job?” Of course, she never missed an opportunity to roast me. I gave her a stern look. “Are you hoping I get fired?” “Because if I lose this gig, what happens to you? I will have to drag you out to the sidewalk so we can beg on a street corner.” Sophie pictured the melodramatic scene and let out a bright, infectious laugh. “You better kiss up to your wife, then. Give her the absolute best service.” “Our entire financial future rests on your ability to be a trophy husband.” We joked around for another hour. Just as I was gathering my things to leave, the door swung open. Victoria and Ridley walked into the room. Seeing the two of them together, Sophie’s smile vanished. She turned her head toward the window, completely ignoring them. I gently patted her shoulder until she reluctantly muttered a quiet greeting to Victoria. Victoria walked up to the bed, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Sophie’s forehead. “Ridley heard about what happened to you and insisted on stopping by.” I gave him a stiff nod. “Thanks for your concern.” Ridley placed a generic fruit basket on the table and leaned over the bed, inspecting Sophie like she was a science experiment. “I saw plenty of paralyzed patients while I was living in Europe.” “The medical bills and the round the clock care are astronomically expensive.” “Dante, this facility cannot be cheap.” Victoria’s face instantly hardened into stone. I narrowed my eyes at him. “What is your point?” Ridley pretended not to notice my hostility and kept talking. “My point is, if Victoria is the one footing this massive bill, you are an incredibly pathetic excuse for a man.” “You cannot even afford to keep your own sister alive.” I shot a panicked look at Sophie. Her eyes were already turning red. When she first found out I had sold myself into a marriage of convenience to pay her medical bills, she had begged the doctors to stop her treatments. Victoria and I spent weeks convincing her to stay alive. Now, with the topic of money thrown directly in her face, I knew she was silently suffocating. Victoria suddenly stood up, her voice sharp. “Ridley, we are leaving. We have business to attend to.” Without waiting for a response, she grabbed his arm and practically dragged him out of the room. Once they were gone, I spent an hour desperately trying to comfort my sister. It took everything she had to force a weak, unconvincing smile. “I am fine, Dante. Do not worry about me.” “You should go home and get some rest.” After making absolute sure she was stable, I left the hospital. That evening, Victoria called to say she was busy and told me not to wait up. I did not ask what she was doing. But after hanging up, the intrusive thoughts consumed me. Was she with Ridley? What were they doing right now? Eventually, I laughed at my own pathetic paranoia. I was just a contract husband. I had absolutely no right to monitor her life. I forced myself to go to sleep. In the dead of night, a violent, suffocating panic jolted me awake. I touched my chest. Cold sweat clung to my skin like a second layer. When my phone began ringing in the silent darkness, a wave of pure dread washed over me. I dropped the phone and drove to the hospital like a madman, my mind completely detached from reality. It was not until I stood in the freezing morgue, staring at Sophie’s pale, lifeless face, that I realized it was not a nightmare. “I am so sorry. By the time the night nurse found her, it was too late.” The head doctor’s apologies faded into a muffled buzz. My eyes were locked onto the life support tubing she still gripped in her rigid hand. My stupid, brave little sister. How much agony did she endure when she ripped those out of her own body? I packed up her belongings in total, crushing silence. A massive, gaping void had carved itself into my chest. I could not tell if it was pure grief, or a terrifying sense of relief. Three years. Over a thousand days trapped in a broken body. She must have been so incredibly tired of existing like that. I understood now. Her relentless optimism and laughter were nothing but a shield to protect me from her pain. But I was selfish. I just wanted my only remaining family member to stay tethered to this earth, no matter the cost. Now, she was finally free. It was a mercy. After burying her ashes next to our parents, I returned to the empty house. I sat alone on the velvet sofa, my thumbs gently tracing the cracked screen of her phone. With trembling hands, I typed in the passcode. It was my birthday. It had never changed. I opened her voice memos, clicked on the final unsent recording, and finally broke down. “See? I knew you would cry. I always win.” “Dante, I am going away now. Do not blame yourself, and do not carry this guilt. You are the greatest brother in the world.” “I have a secret. Mom and Dad visited me in my dreams last night.” “They asked me if we still had a home.” “I told them yes. I told them we still had each other.” “Dante, I did not want to leave you. But I refuse to be selfish anymore. If I stay, I will drag you down until you drown.” “Go live the life you actually want to live.” “You do not have to be a trophy husband anymore. You do not have to be a caretaker anymore.” The recording played on an endless loop as the oxygen slowly abandoned my lungs. When the sun finally crested the horizon, I buried my grief, grabbed my keys, and drove to the corporate office. It was time to end this.

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