Everyone in New York’s legal circles knows that top-tier lawyer Julian Sterling loves his wife more than life itself. To declare his devotion. He even tattooed my name on his collarbone. Even when jet-setting across countries for work, he would always carve out a few hours just to fly back and see me. But outside his office, I overheard his employees gossiping: “The boss just got back, and he’s already flying out with Chloe again to ‘relax’.” “You don’t get it. The little mistress is hungry, and our boss needs to feed her.” “Gotta hand it to her, Chloe is a knockout. That body…” “Of course. Last time, they went through a whole box in his office.” I stood in silence. I glanced at the message Julian sent me this morning. [I’m flying out to handle a divorce case. Be good and wait for me at home, wifey.] What he doesn’t know is that the client for this divorce case… Is me. 1 I left without making a sound and took a cab home. On the wall hung our wedding photo. In it, Julian looked at me with eyes full of deep, unwavering love. Next to my hand lay the video Chloe had sent me. In the video… Chloe’s hands were tied to the headboard with a tie. Her tight skirt was pushed up to her waist. Julian, usually so cold and composed, was red-eyed with lust. He was panting heavily as he sent the woman beneath him to the clouds. I watched for a second. Then I turned off the screen. The floor-to-ceiling window reflected my current state. Mascara running down my face, makeup ruined. I looked pathetic. My hands trembling, I logged into my alt account and messaged Julian. [My husband is cheating on me with his mistress right now. What should I do?] An hour later, he replied. [Save all evidence of your husband’s infidelity and send it to me.] [Okay. I’ll organize it and send it to you in a few days.] Using my alt account, I formally hired Julian. To help me win this divorce lawsuit. Hubby. I hope you’re satisfied with the evidence when you receive it. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, as dawn broke, I heard the roar of an engine and the hiss of tires downstairs. Julian crept upstairs carefully. He opened the bedroom door and froze when he saw my back. “Babe, why are you up so early?” I told the truth. “Insomnia.” “What’s wrong?” Julian’s eyes filled with worry and panic. He strode over and pulled me into his arms. “Babe, are you upset because I haven’t been spending enough time with you lately?” I nodded, playing along. Julian looked heartbroken. He cupped my face and coaxed me gently: “It’s all my fault. I’ll cancel all my work today. I’ll stay right here with you.” I looked up at him. He leaned in, his eyes dark with affection. Just as his lips were about to touch mine, I turned my head. I wiped a hickey on the back of his neck. “Julian, you’re dirty.” Julian’s breath hitched for a second. Years of being in power had trained him to remain calm in any crisis. He smiled and patted my head. “I was in such a rush to come back to you, I didn’t notice I got dirty. I’ll go shower right now.” I didn’t respond. I got up to wash my face. Julian thought he had fooled me perfectly. He didn’t know he was sweating with nervousness. In the bathroom, the water ran. Julian gripped his phone, whispering fiercely: “Didn’t I say not to contact me? If my wife finds out, we’re done.” Chloe sobbed on the other end: “But I bought that lace dress you like. Don’t you want to see it?” Julian didn’t answer. He hung up. But his breathing grew heavy. He turned the cold water to the max. 2 After lunch, Julian enthusiastically dragged me to a street fair. The fair was bustling, filled with people, washing away some of my gloom. Julian held various snacks, coaxing me to eat more. We walked to a wishing wall covered in wooden plaques. Julian squeezed my hand. “Babe, want to hang one?” I shook my head to refuse. Suddenly, Julian’s phone rang. It was Chloe’s exclusive ringtone. He hung up in a panic, but she called again and again. I looked at him calmly. “Answer it.” Julian answered, his face full of impatience. “Didn’t I say I’m with my wife today? Don’t call me unless it’s urgent.” I don’t know what the other side said. Julian’s breathing suddenly became heavy, his eyes darkening with desire. He turned to me, his face full of guilt. “Sorry, babe. There’s a really tricky case I need to handle.” I nodded, suppressing the nausea churning in my stomach. “Work is important.” I took a few deep breaths and clenched my fists. At the highest point of the wishing wall hung our plaque. I took it down, tracing the faded writing. [To grow old together, side by side — Sarah & Julian] Back then, Julian looked at me with such deep love and sincerity: “I wish to walk with you until our hair turns white. To never leave you, in life and death.” I used to drown in those vows of eternal love. Now, I don’t want these rusted promises or this rotten affection. Expressionless, I threw the plaque into the trash can and walked away. Chloe sent me a message. [He said he was thirsty and insisted on drinking from me. It tickles so much.] [Sister, I spilled red wine on myself, and he got drunk eating it off me. You won’t be mad, right?] In the video she sent, Julian was greedily sucking the wine off Chloe’s body. From top to bottom, exploring every secret. I didn’t reply. I just saved the evidence. When he came back, I was curled up on the sofa reading a book. Julian came up behind me and kissed behind my ear. A gesture I used to love now reminded me of him licking Chloe’s body today. I trembled with disgust and retched. Julian looked anxious for a moment, then suddenly delighted. “Babe, what’s wrong? Are you…” I cut him off. “I’m fine.” Julian lowered his head guiltily. “It’s my fault for being busy today. I didn’t keep you company properly. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” He brought out bags of gifts from behind his back—handbags and jewelry I liked. Every time he did something wrong, he used this method to compensate. I smiled silently and tossed the gifts into a corner. Julian made me honey water and went to the kitchen to cut fruit. I picked up my book to read, but the doorbell rang. I opened the door. The visitor was wrapped up tight, holding a gift box. It was Chloe. 3 “Sister Sarah, the boss asked me to prepare this gift for you. He forgot it at my place.” Chloe handed me the box. Inside was a silk scarf—the same one Julian used to tie her hands today. Hearing the noise, Julian came out of the kitchen. Seeing Chloe, his face went pale. He strode over, blocking the space between Chloe and me. “What are you doing here?” Chloe opened her coat, revealing the lace hem of her dress on her thigh. “Boss, I’m here to deliver the gift.” Julian’s eyes fell on the box. He looked at me in panic. Seeing no anger on my face, he secretly sighed in relief. Julian pushed Chloe’s arm. “You delivered it. You can go now.” Chloe didn’t linger. She gave me a provocative look and left cheerfully. But I knew it wasn’t over. Because Julian started unbuttoning his shirt, his Adam’s apple bobbing—a sign he couldn’t hold back. I suppressed my nausea and went to my room. A moment later, Julian followed with a glass of hot milk. “Babe, drink this and sleep early.” I didn’t refuse. I drank it all in front of him. After he left, I ran to the bathroom and stuck my finger down my throat. I vomited everything up. Julian… drugged me. About an hour later, the bed dipped beside me. Julian carried Chloe in. Chloe’s moans filled the room, accompanied by the sound of tearing clothes. “You’re so bad, taking advantage of me right in front of your wife…” “You little demon, you’re asking for it.” “Aren’t you afraid she’ll wake up?” “I put sleeping pills in her milk. She won’t wake up…” I gripped the sheets, tears soaking my pillow. They were doing this right next to me, so brazenly. When they moved, Chloe’s hair brushed against my cheek. “Brother, you’re a machine.” Julian carried Chloe from the bed to the balcony. For two full hours. Even when Chloe begged for mercy, he didn’t stop. She asked softly, “Brother, who’s better? Your wife or me?” Julian thrust hard, shattering her voice. “You think you can compare to my wife? You’re not worth a single strand of her hair…” “If she wasn’t afraid of pain, do you think I’d touch you?” Julian was always gentle with me. I rarely saw this wild, beastly side of him. Like a monster breaking its seal, eager to tear its prey apart and swallow it whole. In the darkness, I quietly took out my phone and recorded a video. Finally, Julian grabbed his clothes with one hand and carried the naked Chloe out with the other. I opened my eyes, letting the tears flow freely. This would be the last time I ever cried for Julian Sterling. 4 When I woke up, Julian was pruning roses in the garden. A whole field of roses, planted just for me. He never let anyone else touch things I liked. He tended to this garden meticulously. He said, “Loving someone is like raising a flower. Sarah, you are my rose.” Back then, I truly thought I was the happiest woman in the world. But flowers wither, and love fades. Nothing is eternal. I leaned against the door, watching him quietly. Sensing my gaze, Julian stood up smiling, wiped his hands, and walked over to hold my waist. Close enough to hear him breathe. His eyes were full of me. He kissed my forehead. Reverent and gentle. “Babe’s awake. I’ll go make breakfast.” Watching Julian busy in the kitchen, I felt dazed. When we first got together, he couldn’t cook. But I was a picky eater. To help me gain weight, he studied cookbooks and even got a nutritionist license. I remembered him with soot on his face, trying to bake for me. I chuckled softly. Julian looked back at me, his eyes full of love. I looked away. My phone vibrated. I picked up. A clear, pleasant male voice spoke. “Sarah, we’re ready here. When are you coming? We’re all waiting for you.” I thought for a moment. “Tomorrow.” “Tomorrow what?” Julian came out of the kitchen, puzzled. I hung up, smiling faintly. “Tomorrow, I have a surprise for you.” Julian’s eyes lit up. He grinned like a child. “Really? You’re too good to me, wifey.” He tried to kiss me. I dodged smoothly. “Go cook. Don’t be silly.” After eating, Julian washed the dishes and negotiated with me. “Babe, there’s a case at the firm today. I have to go.” I didn’t speak. I just straightened his tie. “Go.” Julian was worried, looking back at me repeatedly. I forced a smile. The door closed. The smile vanished instantly. I knew Julian wouldn’t be back today. It was his dating anniversary with Chloe. Yesterday, he brought back fewer gifts than usual. I went to the bedroom and started packing. Dragging my suitcase, I placed a divorce agreement on the living room sofa. I used to think I would scream and smash everything, making everyone miserable. Now I knew, I didn’t care. I just wanted to leave silently. I didn’t even want to say a word to start a conflict. At the airport, my phone rang. Chloe sent me a picture of the necklace Julian gave her. [He said as long as I like it, he’ll bring the best things in the world to me.] I switched to my alt account and opened the chat with Julian. [Lawyer Sterling, the mistress is showing off the gifts my husband gave her. What should I do?] [I will help you recover all joint marital property.] I packed all the evidence of his cheating and Chloe’s taunts into a file and sent it to him. [Lawyer Sterling, I’m counting on you for the divorce.] Confirming the file was received, I blocked him immediately. Then I pulled out the SIM card and threw it away. As the plane took off, my heart finally settled.

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In my food delivery app’s annual wrap-up, I saw the longest delivery note my boyfriend, Julian Vance, had written all year. [Please don’t knock. The baby is only a month old. Leave the flowers at the door of the hospital room or call my wife.] But Julian and I didn’t have a child. And he had never called me “wife.” I tracked down that order. I confirmed the baby’s birth date and the hospital. On that day, I was cooking coconut chicken for Julian and accidentally sliced my artery. Blood was everywhere, but he insisted on driving me to a hospital twenty miles away. He claimed the doctors there were better, that he wanted the best for me. It turns out, he just wanted to be near where his son was born. The card attached to those flowers read: [Thank you, wifey, for giving me a complete family.] But Julian… A person cannot have two families at the same time. 1 I never thought Julian would cheat. Let alone have a child with another woman. Seeing everyone posting their “Year in Review” from delivery apps, I casually opened Julian’s phone. My fingerprint was registered on his phone, but I never checked it. Julian used to argue with me about this, saying his friends’ wives always checked their phones. He asked if I didn’t care enough about him. I laughed at his childishness back then. I told him: “Love is something you feel. You don’t need proof. I trust you one hundred percent.” Today I realized, the joke was on me. His child with someone else was already growing up, and I hadn’t noticed a thing. Just then, a WeChat message popped up on Julian’s phone: [Julian, look! The baby loves the plushie you sent. He says thank you, Daddy!] The contact name was “Annie.” A video followed. The baby looked about seven or eight months old. Big, bright eyes stared at the woman filming. His little hands waved excitedly as he babbled, “Da-da.” It was a heartwarming video. But the woman’s voice and the baby’s babble felt like knives carving into my heart. The sound of water in the bathroom faded. I wiped the tears from my face. Julian walked out in a loose bathrobe. He sat on the bed and hugged me gently. With one glance, he knew something was wrong. He pinched the tip of my nose. “Why the long face? Did I make you wait too long?” The air filled with the lemon scent of his body wash. I loved that smell. For ten years, Julian always used lemon-scented wash, regardless of the brand. I tried to control my emotions, but my red eyes betrayed me. “Have you been crying?” Julian asked, his eyes full of concern. “Julian, are you in love with someone else?” I stared at him. His expression didn’t change. He just smiled and kissed my cheek. “Who else could I love in this lifetime besides you? You’ve had me wrapped around your finger for ages.” “I just had a dream. I dreamt you were hugging another woman.” Julian ruffled my hair and sighed helplessly. “You’re a grown woman, still taking dreams seriously?” I didn’t speak. The phone on the nightstand buzzed relentlessly. Julian picked it up and frowned. Quickly, he composed himself. “Something came up at the company. I need to go out. Go to sleep early, don’t wait up, okay?” I glanced at the screen. It was that woman, “Annie.” I looked up at Julian. “Can you stay?” I always supported his work. I never asked him to skip work for me. Julian paused for a second, but didn’t change his mind. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.” Watching his hurried retreat, my heart sank deeper. Today was our tenth anniversary. The Juliet roses he gave me were still in the bedroom. He said he wanted to be with me for every year to come. I believed him. But then I saw the exact same bouquet in “Annie’s” moments. 2 I followed Julian to a private hospital. I watched him enter a VIP room. As the door opened, I saw the woman’s face. Chloe Jiang. I should have guessed. Since last year, Julian mentioned Chloe frequently. Every time he spoke of her, his eyes lit up with an admiration I had never seen before. I fought with him many times about her. Julian would get angry: “Elena, stop being unreasonable. Chloe is just a business partner.” Although we argued often, he eventually agreed to stop contacting her, as per my request. Until today, I realized he hadn’t stopped contacting her. He just stopped doing it in front of me. I stood frozen outside the ward. Inside, Chloe was sobbing. “I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t want to call you so late, but Leo suddenly got a fever, and I panicked.” Julian held her, comforting her. “I’m Leo’s father. It’s my duty to be here. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” “I saw your post. Today is your anniversary with Elena. Will she be mad I called you out?” “It’s fine. The child is more important,” Julian said flatly. “Elena is easy to coax. She won’t find out.” Their silhouettes overlapped, looking intimately close under the warm yellow light. Separated by a wall, I called Julian. His phone rang. I watched him hang up. Like I was possessed, I called again and again. After being hung up on multiple times, Julian finally answered. “Elena, I told you before I left that something important came up at the company! Can you stop bothering me?!” He kept his voice low, probably afraid of waking the child, but his impatience was palpable. He sounded like a completely different person from the man comforting Chloe. “My hand hurts.” I only said three words. Julian paused noticeably. I looked at my left hand. A centipede-like scar crawled up the back of my hand. It was from Julian’s birthday. I was making coconut chicken for him when the cleaver slipped. Blood gushed out. Julian frantically drove me to a private hospital. At the time, I didn’t understand. There was a hospital two miles away. Why did he drive twenty miles to this specific private hospital? The doctor said if we had been any later, the severed nerve might not have been reconnectable. Julian explained that the doctors here were better. Now I know. Chloe was in this hospital that day. Julian risked my permanent disability just to welcome his child with Chloe. “Can you come home now?” I asked, refusing to give up. “Elena, when will you grow up! Playing the victim when you don’t get your way? I’m tired of your little tricks!” A chill spread from my hand to my entire body. All those beautiful memories seemed to vanish in that instant. I pushed open the door. “Julian, I’m tired of them too.” 3 Julian looked at me in shock. “You followed me!” The man in front of me felt incredibly strange. He was the one cheating, yet he showed no intention of explaining. He looked even angrier than I was. “Julian, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” “There’s nothing to explain. Chloe is my partner. Her child is sick, I’m just helping out.” Even now, he was still lying to me. “Do partners need to cuddle in the middle of the night?” “Elena, stop being so nasty. What cuddling?” “You can’t handle the truth? My words are nasty, but your actions are uglier. Julian, you have a child with someone else, and you’re still lying to me?” Julian finally panicked. His eyes darted away. “Who told you the child is mine?” He strode over to me. “Elena, listen to me, it’s not what you think…” “Is it your child?!” I stared straight into his eyes. The rest of his sentence died in his throat. There was no need to ask anymore. But he grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go. “Julian, you’re hurting me!” I wasn’t lying on the phone. My hand really hurt. Even though I was mentally prepared, witnessing his betrayal made my body react physically. If I hadn’t braced myself against the wall, I might have collapsed. My wrist was already swollen. Under Julian’s grip, the bruising became visible. Julian noticed my hand and apologized profusely. “Sorry, Elena, I didn’t mean to. I’ll take you to get it treated.” “No need!” Our loud argument woke the child. A loud cry erupted from the room. Chloe held the baby, rocking him gently. She looked at me with reproach. “Elena, whatever grievance you have with me, the child is innocent. He had a fever all night. Please let him sleep for a while. I’m begging you, okay?” Tears streamed down her pale face. She looked pitiful. Julian, who was just worried about my injury, suddenly shouted at me. “Elena, enough! Even if you’ve never been a mother, have some basic sympathy!” Ignoring my protests, Julian dragged me to the surgical clinic. My swollen arm looked gruesome. The doctor sighed while treating it. “Young lady, if you don’t take care of your body, this hand will be useless.” Julian pressed his lips together tightly, carefully examining my wound. “Does it hurt?” His voice was hoarse. “You’re an adult, why can’t you take care of yourself?” “If you hadn’t pulled me so hard, it wouldn’t be this bad.” “Elena, that child has nothing to do with me, I…” I slammed a copy of the birth certificate on the table. It clearly stated: Leo Fu. Mother: Chloe Jiang. Father: Julian Vance. 4 Julian tore the copy to shreds. “Elena, where did you get this! What are you trying to do? “You found out a long time ago, didn’t you? You investigated me?” Julian’s eyes turned red. “Didn’t you say you’d always trust me?” “Not anymore. Julian, let’s break up.” I was unusually calm. The light in Julian’s eyes dimmed. He held my hand tight, his voice trembling. “Elena, there’s really nothing between Chloe and me. We just have a child. “Chloe is different from you. She doesn’t believe in marriage. She doesn’t want a family, she only cares about her career! She just wanted a child. She didn’t mean to ruin us. “I helped her fulfill her wish, she invested in my company. It’s just a business deal! I never thought about breaking up with you!” Julian felt I should understand him. He rambled on with his explanation. “Elena, you enjoyed the money I made too, didn’t you?” The Julian in front of me was a stranger. Maybe he wasn’t lying completely. I just never imagined the noble, idealistic boy I knew would become someone so profit-driven. So what was my persistence all these years for? I met Julian in college. He was one of the few scholarship students in our year, but he was exceptionally handsome. There were only two kinds of people at school: those who liked him, and those who hated him because he was too popular. The latter attacked his poverty to mock him. So, back then, Julian hated rich people the most. And I was the former. But I was also the thing he hated most: rich. To pursue Julian, I pretended to be poor for years. I even broke ties with my parents because I refused their arranged marriage candidates. Now Julian tells me he had a child with another woman for money. How absurd is that? 5 Our memories were interrupted by Chloe. “Julian, Leo won’t sleep. He keeps asking for Daddy.” Julian didn’t look at Chloe. He kept staring at me. “Go,” I said. The knot in Julian’s brow loosened at my words. I added, “Since you have a child, I wish you a happy family.” “Elena, be reasonable. I said I didn’t want to break up. I promise I’ll go to the courthouse with you tomorrow to get married, okay?” Julian sounded like he was doing me a favor. In ten years, I asked him many times when we would get married. He always refused, saying the company was just starting up and he was too busy. I never expected his first proposal to be in a situation like this. People passing by stopped to watch our dispute. Chloe suddenly raised her voice. “Elena, whatever you want with Julian, our child is too young and he’s sick. Please have mercy and let Julian comfort him. I don’t want to fight you for anything. Just understand a mother’s heart, please?” Chloe’s words sparked the crowd’s imagination. “So she’s the mistress!” “Mistresses are so arrogant these days, causing a scene in front of the wife.” “And while the child is sick! How vicious!” “That guy looks rich. Young girls these days will do anything for money.” The whispers were endless. Julian remained silent, offering no defense for me. “Julian, let’s go.” Chloe urged him at the right moment. “Elena, I’ll go see the child first.” Julian slowly squatted down on one knee. “Tomorrow, we get married.” Without waiting for my answer, Julian turned and left. The crowd continued to gossip. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Tears fell to the floor. Julian had always been steady and responsible. I had imagined what he would be like as a father. I just never imagined he would be a father to someone else’s child. My phone rang. It was my mother. “Elena, are you coming home for New Year’s this year? Stop being mad at your dad. He misses you, he just can’t put down his pride.” “Mom, I’m coming home tomorrow.” Hearing my answer, my mother sounded overjoyed. “Good, good! Come home. How long can you stay? I’ll prepare everything.” “I’m not leaving again.” 6 I packed all night. At dawn, Julian returned. He hemmed and hawed for a long time before saying: “Elena, let’s go get the marriage license next week.” “Whatever.” “Elena, don’t be mad. The child isn’t fully recovered and keeps clinging to me. I can’t get away. The doctor says he needs a month. In a month, I will definitely marry you.” Julian looked guilty. If he had looked closely at the apartment, he would have noticed that many things were already packed in suitcases. Since he didn’t care to notice, I didn’t bother emphasizing that we were breaking up, not getting married. “If you’re done, you can go.” I was calm. Julian, on the other hand, looked flustered. “Elena, please understand. I promise, just this once.” “Mm. I understand.” After hesitating, Julian went to the study and brought out a box. He tried to hide it from me. But I had opened it yesterday while packing. It was a jade longevity lock for his son, engraved with “Leo.” I compared the jade. It was cut from the same stone as the bangle on my wrist. That was my birthday present from Julian this year. On my birthday, he said he had a business trip. We fought about it. That night, he came back and gave me the bangle. He said he lied about the trip to surprise me with the gift. I was moved then. Now I see he didn’t lie for the surprise. He lied for his son. Julian hid the box behind his back. “Elena, I’m going. See you at the courthouse next week.” The door clicked shut softly, but it felt like a heavy weight smashing onto my heart. The room was quiet. I dragged my suitcase and took one last look at the home where I had placed so much love and hope. Then I turned and left. Goodbye, Julian.

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We were two weeks away from the wedding. The money I had scraped together for the venue deposit and my dress was gone. Vanished. I was frantic, ready to call the police, until I found out the truth. My fiancé, Caleb, had taken every cent. He didn’t lose it. He spent it on a platinum diamond necklace for Bella—the girl he could never quite let go of. Outside the jewelry store, tears streamed down my face as I confronted him. “Caleb, I didn’t even ask you for a decent engagement ring because I knew we were saving. How could you drain our joint account to buy Bella a necklace?” Before Caleb could come up with a lie, a mugger lunged from the shadows. In a split second, Caleb made his choice. To protect that diamond necklace, he shoved me straight into the attacker’s path. I took three stab wounds to the stomach. It took five hours of emergency surgery to keep me alive. When I finally woke up in the hospital bed, the first thing I did was call my old mentor in New York City. “That job at the firm in Manhattan? I want to try.” 1 My mentor agreed immediately. I hung up the phone and let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for years. Just then, Caleb walked in. He frowned, looking down at me as I clutched my bandaged stomach, my face pale as a sheet. “It was just a minor surgery, Harper. Who are you putting on this show for? You’re making me and Bella feel guilty on purpose. It’s exhausting.” Caleb didn’t ask how I was. He just launched into an accusation. I stared at him in silence. Three knife wounds. One had missed my liver by a single millimeter. As a resident doctor at this very hospital, he knew better than anyone how critical my condition was. Yet, he called it “minor.” This was the same man who used to panic if I got a papercut. My childhood sweetheart, Caleb, was gone. I should have seen it sooner. A nurse came in to check my IV. She couldn’t help but speak up. “Dr. Evans is just stressed because he was so worried about you. You just had major sutures; you must be in pain. I’ll get you some painkillers.” I was about to nod and say thank you, but Caleb cut her off. “No need. She doesn’t need them. Giving that medicine to a dog would be a better use of resources.” “Nurse, could you give us a minute?” The nurse shot me a sympathetic look and left the room. Caleb sighed, slumping his shoulders, and tossed a shopping bag onto the bed. Inside was a dress. “I bought you a dress. Consider it compensation. Now that you’ve accepted it, you can’t go bothering Bella, and don’t go spreading rumors about her.” I looked at the fabric and almost laughed out loud. No wonder he had disappeared from Bella’s room—where she was being treated for “extreme shock”—to come see me. I thought his conscience had kicked in. Turns out, he was just here to buy my silence. He was terrified Bella might get her feelings hurt. I looked down at the dress. It was a designer knock-off Bella had rejected. She had bragged to me about it yesterday. “Caleb asked a friend in LA to bring this back for me, but I hate the color. I told him I wanted the diamond necklace instead!” I gripped the sheets. The old me—the one with a temper—would have screamed. I would have cried. I would have thrown the bag at his head. But this time, I just nodded. “Thanks for the dress. Don’t worry, I won’t bother Bella.” Caleb smiled, clearly pleased with my sudden obedience. He reached out, trying to take my hand like he used to. Back when we were hiding our relationship in high school, holding hands was our thing. He used to say, “Harper, holding your hand grounds me. I never want to let go.” It used to give me butterflies. I used to think he loved me more than anything. But this time, when he reached for me, I flinched. Seeing his frown, I said flatly, “The knife didn’t just get my stomach. My hand is cut too. It hurts.” A flash of guilt crossed his eyes. He forced a smile. “Just rest. I’m off-shift tonight. I’ll stay here with you…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Bella’s best friend burst into the room. “Dr. Evans! Bella is having a panic attack about the mugger again. She’s crying. You need to come now!” The moment he heard Bella was crying, Caleb’s face dropped. He looked at me, impatient. “Harper, Bella is fragile. I can’t stay tonight; I have to go calm her down. Don’t make a scene.” He was winding up for a long excuse. I cut him off. “Go ahead.” Caleb paused, looking at me with suspicion. In the past, whenever Bella played the victim to pull him away, I would fight for him. I would argue. I wanted to prove that I mattered more. But not today. I repeated it, my voice steady. “Go.” Caleb didn’t think twice. He nodded and walked out without looking back. 2 Caleb and I grew up next door to each other in a small Rust Belt town. Our parents worked at the same automotive plant. We were inseparable since we were toddlers. Elementary school, middle school, high school… we shared every milestone. By college, falling in love felt like gravity. It was inevitable. But college changed things. Caleb’s attention shifted to a girl in our year, Bella, whose parents had passed away in an accident. At first, Caleb just pitied her. He wanted to help. Then, it morphed into something else. He started protecting her. Buying her textbooks, paying her tuition, driving her places. Whenever I asked about it, he’d snap, “I just feel bad for her! Stop overthinking it. We’re all friends, why are you being so petty?” After graduation, Caleb matched his residency at our hometown hospital. I had an offer from a top marketing firm in Chicago. A real career. But I turned it down. I was terrified distance would break us. So, I followed Caleb back to our dying small town. Our parents were thrilled. They pushed for an engagement immediately. Caleb agreed—mostly because Bella had taken a job in another city. We rented a small two-bedroom apartment. We slept in separate rooms to “save money” before the wedding. With Bella gone, it felt like us again. But I couldn’t find a good job in town. For a year, I worked odd jobs and centered my entire life around Caleb. I scrimped, saved, and couponed, building up a “Future Fund” for our wedding and a down payment on a house. Then, a year later, Bella came back. She lost her job and came running to Caleb for a safety net. To comfort her, Caleb drained the account I had spent a year building—our wedding money—and bought her that necklace. When I found out, he looked at me cold and detached. “So we push the wedding back a few months. Big deal. It’s not like I’m leaving you. Bella is going through a hard time; shouldn’t we help her?” And now, to save that necklace, he used me as a human shield. In his eyes, my life was worth less than Bella’s jewelry. I was finally done. Fifteen years of history, and it was all just a fever dream. I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, and started typing a text to my parents. The engagement was off. 3 The push Caleb gave me was violent. The wound was deep. I spent two full weeks in the hospital before I could walk without doubling over. In those two weeks, Caleb—who worked in the same building—never visited once. His colleagues told me he took personal leave for a “family emergency.” I knew that was a lie. The next day, I ran into a neighbor in the hallway. He looked shocked to see me. “Harper? What are you doing here? Caleb told us you were traumatized by the mugging, so he took you on a road trip to clear your head. He asked me to watch your mail…” I realized then that Caleb had taken Bella on vacation. My heart gave a dull throb, but the pain vanished quickly. I didn’t care anymore. I lied to the neighbor to save face and went back to the apartment. Since our engagement, our parents had chipped in to cover the rent on this place. I walked in and froze. There was a framed wedding photo on the dining table. Bella, in a white gown, leaning her head on Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb, in a tux, holding her tight, smiling brighter than he ever had with me. I had dreamed of our wedding photos for years. Now, I was looking at his rehearsals with someone else. The door clicked open. Caleb walked in and saw me staring at the photo. He froze, looking guilty. “Harper… you’re back? You didn’t tell me you were discharged.” He rushed to the table. “Don’t overthink the photo. Bella has a friend who’s a photographer. She needed models for her portfolio, so we just helped her out. It’s fake.” I chuckled dryly. I carefully placed the photo back down. “Oh, no problem. I know you guys were just playing. It’s a nice picture.” Caleb choked on his words. My indifference clearly unsettled him. He grabbed the photo and slammed it face down on the table. “Harper, seriously. I’m filing for the marriage license next week. We’re getting married.” I nodded, barely looking at him. “Sure. Okay.” I went to my room, packed a small bag, and hid my train ticket to New York inside my jacket. I was leaving tomorrow. My mentor had set up the final interview. I just needed to get there. As I headed to the door to mail a package to my parents, Caleb suddenly grabbed my arm, trying to be attentive. “Harper, you’re still healing. Where are you going? I’ll drive you.” I frowned. I couldn’t let him know I was going to the post office or the station. Just then, Bella walked in without knocking. “Caleb! You promised to take me shopping for work clothes! Come on, I start tomorrow!” Caleb dropped my arm like it burned him. He looked at me, conflicted. “I… I got Bella a job in the hospital admin office. She needs professional clothes. I should probably go…” I stared at him. I had been unemployed for a year in this town. I begged him to ask around the hospital for any opening, even clerical work. He had always rolled his eyes: “Stop nagging me. You chose to move here; I don’t owe you a career. Find it yourself.” Bella had been back for a week, and he handed her a job. “Go with her,” I said, smiling. “I’m heading out anyway.” I walked out the door. When I held my ticket in my hand, I felt lighter than air. 4 The next morning, I packed the rest of my essentials and took a cab to the station. I didn’t leave a note. He wouldn’t care. The interview in NYC was intense, but I was ready. When the hiring manager extended her hand and said, “Harper, you start Monday. Welcome to the team,” I almost cried right there in the glass-walled office. I took the train back to pack up the rest of my life. When I opened the door to the apartment, I found Bella wearing my silk pajamas, sleeping in my bed. 5 She saw me and sat up. She tried to look startled, but her smirk gave her away. “Harper… Caleb said this is my room now. Childhood sweethearts don’t mean much, do they? I snap my fingers, and you’re gone.” I ignored her and walked to the kitchen. Caleb was at the stove. He saw me and paused. “You’re back.” “Why is she in my room?” I asked. “Bella is still scared from the mugging. She can’t be alone in her dorm. I told her she could stay here,” Caleb said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “The place is too small for three. You can stay at the Motel 6 down the road for a few days.” I stared at him for two long seconds. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll go to the motel.” Caleb paused, his spatula hovering over the pan. My reaction was too calm. “Where have you been the last few days anyway? Playing the runaway? Look, if you’re still mad about the knife thing, get over it. You’re fine now.” I looked at his face and felt nothing but nausea. “I had errands. Don’t worry about it.” I started rummaging through the drawers in the living room. “Did a package come for me? From my parents?” Caleb flinched. “Yeah. I opened it by accident.” “Did you read the letter?” I tightened my grip on the drawer handle. “No.” He shook his head too quickly. I found the envelope. My parents agreed to the breakup. They had always known Bella was an issue. They were happy I was finally leaving him. In the letter, they mentioned sending cash for my move. I checked the envelope. Empty. “The cash my parents sent,” I said, looking up. “Where is it?” Before he could answer, Bella strolled out of the bedroom. “Caleb! Is the lobster ready? I’m starving!” “Coming!” Caleb plated the dish—lobster tails. Expensive. “I used the cash for groceries,” Caleb said, avoiding my eyes. “I’ll pay you back when my residency check clears. Relax.” He carried the plate to Bella like a servant. “Here you go, picky eater.” I watched them. He stole from me again. “Fine,” I said. “I’m packing.” I went into the room, ignored Bella, and packed everything I owned into two suitcases. I walked to the door. I didn’t say goodbye. “Wait.” Caleb grabbed the handle of my suitcase. 6 “You’re still recovering,” he said, looking uncomfortably at my bandages peeking out from my shirt. “I’ll help you with the bags. I’ll drive you to the motel.” I nodded. Free labor. In the cab, he wouldn’t shut up. “Bella is only staying for two months. Once she’s settled, we’ll get married. I’ve already filled out the paperwork.” He flashed a smile that used to make me melt. “Also, I ordered a custom wedding dress for you. It’s coming from Italy. You’ll look amazing.” I paused. I used to beg to just rent a nice dress. He always said it was a waste of money. Now he was buying custom Italian silk? Too little, too late. The motel was disgusting. Stained carpets, the smell of stale smoke. Caleb, who was a germaphobe, gagged. “This place is a dump. Is this even safe?” He looked at me awkwardly. “Just… hang in there, Harper. I’ll bring you home soon.” “Sure,” I said. “Thanks for the ride. Go home.” I closed the door in his face. 7 Ten days later, it was time to move to New York. I felt amazing. I checked out of the motel and dragged my luggage to the curb to catch a cab to the airport. Suddenly, a car screeched up. Caleb jumped out, face like thunder. Bella was behind him, fake-sobbing. 8 “Harper!” Bella shrieked. “You stole my diamond necklace because you were jealous! You’re trying to skip town!” Caleb blocked my path. “The necklace is gone. It vanished the day you packed your bags.” “Give it back, apologize to Bella, and I won’t call the cops,” Caleb said, his voice cold. I looked at him in disbelief. “You think I’m a thief? We’ve known each other for twenty years. And let’s not forget, you bought that necklace with my money.” “Just give it back!” Bella wailed, grabbing my arm. “I know you hate me, but that was a gift!” She was making a scene. People in the parking lot stopped to watch. Whispers started. “She stole from them?” “Looks like a decent girl, what a shame.” This was Bella’s game. She wanted to destroy my reputation before I left. “Open your bag, Harper,” Caleb demanded. “Let me search it.” “No,” I said, gripping the handle. “Call the police if you want. I didn’t take it.” Caleb stepped forward, eyes narrowing. He looked at my stomach, knowing exactly where the stitches were. He threw a sharp elbow into my wound. “Let go!” Pain blinded me. I gasped and dropped the bag. Caleb ripped the zipper open. He dumped my clothes onto the dirty asphalt. Underwear, shirts, toiletries. He picked up a folder—my offer letter from the NYC firm. He didn’t even read it. He tossed it into a puddle. He tore the lining of the suitcase. Nothing. Bella’s eyes darted around. “Maybe… maybe she mailed it? Or hid it? Oh well, Caleb, let’s just go. I feel faint.” Caleb looked at the empty bag, then at me, clutching my stomach. “If you didn’t take it, fine,” he muttered. “Consider yourself lucky.” He turned around, put his arm around Bella, and walked her back to his car. He left me standing there, my life scattered on the pavement, surrounded by strangers. I watched him drive away. That was the moment the last tiny ember of love for him finally died. I gathered my dirty clothes, picked up my wet job offer, and got in the cab.

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She came to me for a pimple. One look, and I knew it was cancer. I scheduled a biopsy and surgery immediately. Instead, she claimed I was deliberately trying to scar her face to ruin her title as the “Nation’s Ageless Goddess.” Guided by her, a massive swarm of fans launched a cyberbullying campaign against me. “A dermatologist trying to treat cancer? Stay in your lane. If you can’t cure it, don’t touch it.” “What kind of quack is this woman? You’re just jealous because my queen is young and beautiful!” My husband—the hospital director—didn’t stand by me either. He forced me to issue a public apology online. I laughed in sheer disbelief. Twenty years of practicing medicine, countless patients healed, and this was how I was repaid? Framed and slandered. In a rage, I quit my job, filed for divorce, and left the country to travel the world. I didn’t expect that a few months later, those same fans would be blocking my driveway. “Dr. Song, please, we’re begging you! Save her!” 1 “Serena is glowing!” “Serena, get out of that hospital! Don’t let that butcher touch your face!” “Don’t be scared, Serena! We’ll protect you!” Serena Vance, forty years old but looking twenty-five, stood in the hospital lobby. Wearing oversized sunglasses and a designer mask, she waved to her screaming fans with a detached, arrogant grace. She acted like she was walking the Met Gala red carpet, not standing in a medical facility. I was just trying to get to work. I pushed through the crushing crowd, struggling to reach the entrance. Suddenly, I was yanked backward. My spine slammed against a marble pillar, the pain making me break out in a cold sweat. I glared at the woman who grabbed me. Instead of apologizing, she smirked and “accidentally” splashed her hot Starbucks latte all over my scrubs. “Oh my god! Isn’t this the great Dr. Song? So sorry, I didn’t see you there.” She covered her mouth, giggling. The fans around her sneered, looking at me like I was trash. It was a freezing Chicago winter. The wet scrubs clung to my skin, sending a violent shiver down my spine. I was about to argue when a cold voice cut through the noise. It was my husband, Richard, the hospital director. “Dr. Song, you’re ten minutes late. What are you doing loitering? Come to my office. Now.” I wasn’t surprised. I’d been getting doxxed and harassed online for a week because of Serena’s diagnosis. It was disrupting the hospital’s operations. But what he said next made me shake with rage. “We’ve received a coordinated complaint from the fan club,” Richard said, closing the door. They accused me of malpractice and practicing outside my scope. They demanded my immediate termination and a video apology posted to all social media platforms. I frowned deeply. “Richard, we’ve been married for decades. Do you honestly think I would misdiagnose someone on purpose? My records are in the system. Send an auditor. I have nothing to hide.” I was the top dermatology resident in my class. I followed Richard to this hospital right out of med school. Twenty years later, my record was spotless. I slept well at night knowing I did my job. And now, they were lying through their teeth, and my own husband wasn’t defending me? “Katherine, I know you’re good,” Richard said, sipping his coffee. “But doctors make mistakes. Serena is a national treasure. Her fanbase is massive. I’m your husband, yes, but I’m also the director of this hospital. My hands are tied.” My face went pale. “What are you saying?” He sighed. “Apologize. Or step down as Chief of Dermatology. Take a sabbatical until the mob calms down.” I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. I followed protocol. Why should I take the fall for a diagnosis I knew was right? If I apologized, I was admitting guilt. My career would be over. “Richard, let Serena go to another specialist. Let them prove me wrong. Until then, I admit nothing!” Richard slammed his mug on the desk. “Katherine! Don’t be selfish! Think about the hospital’s reputation! Everyone knows you’re my wife. Do you want them to think I’m covering for you? Have you thought about me at all?” I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached. “But—” “Get out,” he snapped. “Tomorrow morning, I want to see that apology video. Or you can pack your bags and go home. You’re getting too old for this stress anyway.” I walked back to my office, chest tight with anger and grief. But I couldn’t even get inside. My office was packed with fans. 2 “Apologize, you witch!” The roar stunned me. A middle-aged man, clearly a superfan, threw a stack of photos at me. The corner of one sliced my cheek, drawing blood. “Katherine Song, don’t pretend you didn’t target Serena on purpose! You know your husband and Serena were childhood sweethearts. You’ve been jealous for years! You finally found a chance to ruin her face!” I looked down at the photos scattered on the floor. Richard and Serena, looking very cozy. I took a deep breath. “I am a doctor. My treatment plan has nothing to do with my husband. If you don’t trust my diagnosis, take her to Mayo Clinic. Take her to Johns Hopkins. Go anywhere else!” A few young girls in “Team Serena” hoodies chimed in. “Serena already sent photos to a specialist in Switzerland. The results are coming in any minute. We’re going to expose you as a fraud.” “We’re livestreaming this. Don’t try to run.” My intern, Holly, tried to shield me. “Dr. Song is a board-certified expert! She wouldn’t make a diagnosis like that without certainty. Wait for the facts!” The middle-aged man sneered. “My son is in med school. He looked at Serena’s Instagram photos and said her skin is fine.” “Exactly. Does she think she’s the only doctor in the world?” Holly wanted to argue, but I shook my head. “If you want to wait,” I said calmly, “we wait.” I knew what I saw. That lesion on Serena’s face was a basal cell carcinoma. It is the most common form of skin cancer. Highly treatable if caught early. A simple excision. But because I suggested surgery, she spun a narrative that I was out to disfigure her. Looking at the photos on the floor, the way Richard looked at her… I connected the dots. They were likely having an affair. That was why she was so paranoid about me holding a scalpel to her face. A notification pinged on a fan’s phone. “See! Switzerland says it’s just cystic acne!” “In your face, Doctor!” “Apologize! Now!” I shook my head in disbelief. “Telemedicine has limits. You can’t diagnose texture through a filtered photo. We need a biopsy.” The word ‘biopsy’ set them off again. “Biopsy implies cutting! She starts filming her new movie next week! You just want to scar her!” I tried to reason with them, but the mob had made up its mind. 3 #UnethicalDoctor #FireDrSong #JusticeForSerena We were trending on X (formerly Twitter). The narrative was set: The jealous wife utilizing her medical license to disfigure her husband’s beautiful celebrity friend. Strangers flooded the hospital’s Yelp and Google reviews. “Is this where they hire butchers? Zero stars.” “This woman treated my mom once. She has RBF (Resting Bitch Face). Never smiled once.” “I heard she starves her inpatients. Revoke her license!” I read the comments, clutching my chest. As a Chief Resident, I worked 12-hour shifts. I skipped lunch. I didn’t have the energy to smile 24/7. And “starving” patients? That’s called NPO—nothing by mouth before surgery. Basal cell carcinoma rarely spreads, but rarely isn’t never. If she ignored it… I worried about my patients until I developed chronic migraines. And this was the thanks I got. To make matters worse, Richard issued a statement on the hospital’s official account, apologizing for “personnel misconduct” and promising “internal restructuring.” He threw me under the bus. Then, Serena tweeted. @SerenaVance: “Thanks for the love, guys! I’m fine. Dr. Song and I are friends—she was just teasing me because we go way back. Please don’t be mean! <3" She attached the Swiss "diagnosis." It looked like she was defending me, but it was a calculated move. She tagged my personal account. Within minutes, my inbox exploded. "Nice try, Karen. If you're lonely, get a cat, don't come for Serena." "Jealous much? You're old and dried up. Serena is timeless." "My dad is a lawyer. We're going to sue you into homelessness." The notifications were a ceaseless drone of hate. I wanted to quit right then. But I had inpatients who needed me. I didn't sleep a wink that night. 4 The next morning, I dragged myself to work. I just needed to discharge my current patients. Then I could figure this out. I walked onto the ward and saw Richard surrounded by a group of angry family members. "Dr. Evans, we trust you," a woman shouted. "But we don't trust your wife! You need to assign a new doctor to my mother immediately!" "Yes! She brings personal vendettas into the exam room!" Richard held up his hands. "I understand. Dr. Song was out of line. I’m handling it." I recognized the woman. Brenda. Her mother had a growth on her neck. "Brenda," I stepped forward. "I have been treating your mother for three years. You can request a transfer, but you cannot question my medical expertise." Richard glared at me. "Katherine! Watch your tone! Apologize to them." I ignored him. Brenda pointed a finger in my face. "If you had a conscience, you'd quit. If anything happens to my mom, I'm suing!" I looked around. Patients I had treated for years looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. Something inside me snapped. The thread I had been holding onto for twenty years... it just broke. It wasn't worth it. I took a deep breath. I took off my white coat. "Fine," I said. My voice was eerily steady. "I quit." Richard paused, then nodded, satisfied. "Good. You should have done that yesterday." I looked him in the eye. "But I will not apologize." "And Richard? I resigned. You didn't fire me." "And if you all think I’m biased, find someone else. Good luck." Richard’s face darkened. "Katherine, admit you were wrong. Is your ego that big?" I laughed. "I wasn't wrong." "Come home tonight. We need to discuss the divorce." 5 My mother-in-law called to scream at me, telling me I was being dramatic and ungrateful. I hung up on her. I had carried that family and that hospital on my back. I was the one working double shifts while Richard played golf and networked. I was packing my clothes when I found it. A diamond earring, wedged between the cushions of our sofa. I recognized it immediately. Serena had worn the pair in a magazine shoot last month. I gripped the earring until it dug into my palm. So, I was right. Serena came to the hospital not for medical advice, but to mark her territory. My suggestion of surgery spooked her, so she weaponized her fanbase to remove me from the equation. And Richard helped her. He gaslit me into an apology to protect his mistress. Honestly? I didn't even feel sad. Just disgusted. If Serena wanted to ignore a cancerous tumor because her boyfriend said it was "just a pimple," that was natural selection at work. I slept like a baby that night. The divorce was fast. Richard wanted me gone. I took my half of the assets—liquid cash and investments. He kept the house. On my last day at the hospital to sign paperwork, the fan club was waiting outside with a banner: "DING DONG THE WITCH IS GONE." Brenda was there, chatting with them, laughing about how Serena would stay young forever. "The old hag finally left," someone shouted as I walked to my car. Holly, my intern, walked me out, tears in her eyes. "Dr. Song, I know the truth. They're idiots." I patted her hand. "Let them be. You can't save people who don't want to be saved." I was 49. I was wealthy. I was single. I booked a one-way ticket to Europe. For twenty years, I hadn't taken a real vacation. I had missed weddings, birthdays, and life, all for the hospital. Now? The world was mine. A month later, while sipping wine in a vineyard in Tuscany, I saw Serena on the cover of Vogue. She looked stunning. But I noticed the heavy makeup on her cheek, and the strategic placement of a feather accessory covering the lesion. Marketing accounts posted side-by-sides of her face and my old diagnosis, mocking me. "Dr. Song said this was cancer. Look at her now! glowing!" "Serena 1, Haters 0." Some med students commented, "Actually, she should really get that checked again..." They were swarmed by the hive. "Stop spreading anxiety!" "Are you Song's burner account?" I clicked "Not Interested" and locked my phone. You can't cure stupid. 6 Two weeks later, Holly texted me. Holly: Dr. Song... Richard and Serena just went public. She sent a photo. Paparazzi caught them kissing in Malibu. I texted back: What’s the narrative? Holly: They’re claiming 'True Love.' Check trending. I downloaded X again. #SerenaRichardLove #Soulmates #FinallyTogether Serena posted a photo of a marriage license. @SerenaVance: "Yes, Richard and I are together. We were childhood sweethearts, but life kept us apart. After 20 years, and his divorce, we reconnected. I want a family. I want love. We are legally married! @RichardEvans" Richard quoted it: "No more regrets. @SerenaVance" The comments were nauseatingly positive. "So brave! Love wins!" "Finally! They look so good together." "That ex-wife was definitely the problem." My name wasn't mentioned once. They had clearly hired a PR firm to scrub me from the narrative. I clicked on a fan video of them walking down Rodeo Drive. They were holding hands. But Serena looked... gray. She was thin. Too thin. And she kept coughing. I zoomed in. The lesion on her face had grown. She had covered it with a heavy-duty bandage, trying to pass it off as a fashion statement. I shook my head. Richard, the great doctor, was blind. Or maybe he just didn't want to see it. Metastasis. It was happening. I grabbed my popcorn. The show was just starting.

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We were on a reality show for couples, sitting around a campfire. The host asked the question that would end my marriage: “Among the three couples here tonight, who is your true ideal partner?” My husband, Finn York—the newly minted A-list actor—didn’t hesitate. Right in front of my face, he pointed a finger at another man’s wife: his high school sweetheart, Hailey Vance. My hand, half-raised to point at him, froze in mid-air. The awkwardness was suffocating. Finn looked completely unbothered. He smiled that charming smile and explained, “The whole point of this show is authenticity, right? So I have to follow my heart. I’m choosing my true ideal love.” In an instant, every camera and every pair of eyes turned to me. I felt the mockery, the pity, and the hunger for drama prickling my skin like needles. That night, after filming wrapped, Finn didn’t come to our tent. Instead, he boldly took Hailey’s arm and walked into the darkness, heading for the glamping tent under the stars. They were ready to enjoy their long-awaited reunion, reigniting an old flame. I was left standing alone on the windy edge of the Mojave Desert, clutching a wool blanket I had brought because I was afraid he’d get cold. After a long time, I pulled out my satellite phone and called my executive assistant. “For tomorrow’s Academy Awards ceremony,” I said, my voice steady, “replace my husband’s highlight reel. I want the footage of his affair played on the big screen instead.” “Consider the last five years the price of my blindness.” 1 The second I hung up the phone, a cold sneer came from behind me. I turned around to see Hailey Vance standing there, shivering in a short skirt but looking triumphant. Her eyes swept over me with disdain. She looked at me like I was an ant she was about to crush. “Scarlett, what are you doing standing out here? You aren’t planning to eavesdrop on us all night, are you?” Hailey’s tone was arrogant, dripping with malice. I clenched my fists but said nothing. Before this show, Hailey wasn’t a stranger to me. Five years ago, when I met Finn, he was a nobody—an extra struggling to get a single line. We fell in love, or so I thought. Finn had told me about Hailey. She was the ex-girlfriend who dumped him when he was broke. Whenever he mentioned her, he would tear up, looking broken and vulnerable. Then he would hold me tight, begging me never to leave him like she did. I loved him so much back then. I reassured him over and over again. So, when I first found out Finn was cheating on me with Hailey, I couldn’t believe it. He hated her. How could he be sleeping with her? But the truth doesn’t care about my disbelief. It was right in front of me. Seeing my silence, Hailey stepped closer. “I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. I’m actually one of the investors for this show.” “The reason I invited Finn is simple.” “We needed some alone time. If you’re smart, you won’t interrupt us.” Hailey poked my chest with a manicured finger as she spoke. I knew she was an investor. Two years ago, when Finn and I got married, Hailey sent a gift. It was a tiara encrusted with diamonds and a note: You will always be my Prince Charming. Finn threw a massive tantrum in front of me. He tossed the tiara into the trash without hesitation. I spent hours calming him down just so the wedding could proceed. Back then, I thought he truly loathed her. I forgot the oldest rule in the book: the opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference. Hate is just love that’s lost its way. A week before this show started, I found that “trashed” tiara. It was sitting polished and pristine in Finn’s safe. He cherished it. My reason for joining this show was simple, too. I just wanted closure for the last five years of my life. My mind kept replaying the image of Finn holding Hailey, walking into her tent. He didn’t even glance at me. No explanation. Not a single word. It was as if I was a stranger. “If you want him so bad,” I said, grabbing Hailey’s finger and twisting it slightly, forcing her to look at me, “why don’t you get a divorce and marry him?” Hailey froze, then laughed—a loud, manic sound. “Scarlett Sterling, are you brain-dead?” “Why would I divorce my husband to marry him?” “I can sleep with him right now without all that hassle.” As soon as she finished speaking, Finn’s impatient voice called out from the tent nearby. She yanked her hand away, grabbed something from her designer bag on the chair, blew me a mocking kiss, and sashayed into the tent. I saw clearly what she grabbed. A box of condoms. 2 Not long after Hailey entered the tent, the sounds began. Heavy breathing, low moans. In the empty silence of the desert night, it was impossible to ignore. I stood there, rooted to the spot. It was intentional self-torture. I wanted the wound to be ripped open so wide that it couldn’t be ignored. Only then could I kill the hope and move on. As the sounds of Finn and Hailey grew louder, my mind drifted back to when we first met. Five years ago, outside a studio lot in LA. He was crying because an A-list actor had humiliated him. I was sitting on the curb, defeated because my startup couldn’t secure funding. Two failures, meeting by chance. We bonded over our broken dreams. We became best friends, and then lovers. Finn’s road to stardom wasn’t easy. At our lowest point, we lived in a basement apartment in the Valley, eating instant ramen for dinner every night. We’d finish the salty broth, lie on a mattress on the floor, and dream about the future. We’d cry together, and I’d hold him, promising him that one day, he’d be a star. Later, Finn started getting bigger roles. My company finally took off, becoming a media empire. Everything was getting better. Tomorrow was the Academy Awards. Finn was the favorite for Best Actor. I hadn’t told him yet, but I was the majority investor behind the ceremony. I also hadn’t told him that most of the roles he “auditioned” for and won were secured because of my influence. I wanted to surprise him tomorrow. It was supposed to be his big night, and our second wedding anniversary. What a joke. “Why are you still standing here?” A man’s voice broke my trance. I turned to see Hailey’s husband, Julian Ford, standing a few feet away. With his back to the moonlight, he looked pale and ghostly. In a way, Julian was the only person who could understand how I felt. He sat down on a rock next to me. Surprisingly, he cracked a joke. “Locked out of your tent too?” I didn’t know much about Julian. I knew the tabloids hated him. He was always painted as the villain, the “leech” living off Hailey’s family wealth. But after a few days on set, he seemed nothing like the rumors. “Your wife is in there with my husband,” I said, confused. “Aren’t you angry?” “Why should I be? Marrying her wasn’t my choice anyway.” He shrugged. “Honestly? I hope they hook up permanently. Maybe then my suffering will end.” “And I won’t have to be the scapegoat for Finn’s scandals anymore.” Julian told me the truth. All these years, Hailey and Finn never stopped talking. Whenever Finn had a scandal brewing—skipping school, bar fights, bullying allegations—Hailey would manipulate the press to pin it on Julian. I listened, feeling a knot form in my stomach. “If she treats you like that, why don’t you divorce her?” “Maybe because… if I leave her, no one will even know I exist anymore. She has the power to erase me.” Julian stared at the horizon. His eyes were the only bright things in the dark desert. We sat there all night, talking until sunrise. The next morning, Finn finally emerged from Hailey’s tent. When he saw me, his expression didn’t change. No guilt. Just arrogance. He spoke like he was giving orders to an assistant. “Scarlett, if the producers ask, tell them you locked me out of the tent last night. Got it?” 3 There was a visible hickey on Finn’s neck. He looked refreshed. Anyone with eyes could tell what happened last night. The old Finn never spoke to me like this. He used to be gentle, a gentleman. I realized he changed after he landed his first blockbuster role. That was probably when he decided I was no longer worthy of him. “Why should I?” I asked calmly. “Why should I take the fall for your dirt?” Finn blinked, surprised I was pushing back. Before he could speak, Hailey stepped out, sneering. “Scarlett, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. If it wasn’t for Finn, you’d just be a nobody, a civilian.” “If you’re upset, how about this? After the show, I’ll set you up with a livestream account. I’ll toss you some traffic. Good enough?” She spoke like she was tossing a coin to a beggar. My expression didn’t waver. I looked her dead in the eye. “What’s wrong with being a nobody?” “At least a nobody doesn’t have to deal with two pieces of trash polluting the air.” Hailey’s smile vanished. Her face twisted into an ugly scowl. She marched toward me, raising her hand to slap me. “What did you say?!” Just as she swung, Julian appeared out of nowhere and stepped between us. He was pale, trembling, but he stood his ground. “Hailey, we’re filming! Everyone is watching, you can’t…” Smack. Before Julian could finish, Hailey slapped him across the face. Hard. It was so fast no one reacted. “Who do you think you are?! Trying to stop me?” Hailey scoffed, grinding her teeth. Julian’s cheek swelled instantly. He turned his head away, a single tear caught in his eyelashes. I grabbed his arm to steady him and glared at Hailey. “He’s your husband! How can you hit him?” “Ha. You can’t even control your own man, and you want to lecture me about mine?” Finn walked over and wrapped his arm around Hailey’s waist, as if her violence was completely justified. “Scarlett, if I were you, I’d shut up.” “Unless you want a divorce.” Finn narrowed his eyes, threatening me. He knew I loved him. He used that love as a weapon for years. He thought the word “divorce” would make me beg. But I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were on Julian. Julian shook his head at me, signaling he was okay. “I’ll take you to get some ice,” I whispered to him. “Thank you.” I turned to leave with Julian, but Finn wasn’t done. “Scarlett! Are you listening to me?!” I stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Fine. Let’s divorce then.” 4 Finn went silent. The only sound was his phone ringing. The Awards were tonight. It was probably his agent. Finn answered, grunted a few words, and hung up. His voice turned icy. “Scarlett, don’t think playing hard to get will work.” “You divorcing me? Yeah, when pigs fly.” “Since you want to be ungrateful, don’t bother coming to the ceremony tonight. Hailey is coming with me.” I kept walking. I left Finn’s voice behind in the dust. Hailey’s slap had been brutal. Julian’s face was a mess. Judging by how practiced she was, this wasn’t the first time. I finally understood why Julian had been so hesitant last night. He had been enduring this abuse for years in silence. I looked at this gentle, broken man and felt a surge of protectiveness. Julian looked down, smiling bitterly. “Great. Now Hailey is going to the Awards with your husband, and I’m going to get dragged online again for not being supportive.” I put down the ice pack. “It’s okay. I’ll take you.” Julian looked up, eyes wide. “You? But…” “If they don’t care about reputation, why should we?” Julian looked terrified. I knew he was afraid of Hailey’s wrath. But eventually, he nodded. I called my assistant. An hour later, a stretch Rolls Royce pulled up to the dusty set. Julian’s jaw dropped. “I thought you were a civilian?!” “I never said I was broke.” I shrugged and ushered him into the car. We stopped at a luxury spa to have a makeup artist cover his bruise with professional concealer. By the time we arrived at the Dolby Theatre, the red carpet was in full swing. We arrived just as Finn and Hailey were posing. The livestream comments were flying across the screen on the monitors. [Wait, Finn is married… why is he with Hailey?] [Does the show imply they are a thing now? Disgusting.] [It’s definitely a PR stunt! The producers are sacrificing our Finn to boost some other couple!] I glanced at Julian. He was calm. He expected the hate. When we stepped onto the carpet, the photographers hesitated. The host looked bored. My face wasn’t famous, and Julian was “the loser husband.” We walked into the venue and bumped right into Finn and Hailey. “What are you doing here?! Scarlett, stop following me like a lost dog!” Finn’s voice was full of disgust. Even his handsome face looked ugly in that moment. I smiled. “We were invited. Just like you.” Finn started to argue, but Hailey cut him off. “Forget it. With Julian’s C-list status, they’re probably sitting in the nosebleeds. Let’s not waste our breath.” “Julian, bringing a nobody to the Oscars? Did you hit your head?” Hailey laughed, mocking us. Julian just smiled sadly and said nothing. They strutted past us, noses in the air. Julian tugged my sleeve. “Come on, our seats are probably in the back.” I grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the stage. “Nope. Follow me.” I led him straight to the front row—the VIP section reserved for studio heads and top investors. We sat down directly in front of Finn and Hailey. “Scarlett, are you insane?!” Finn hissed from behind me. “Those are producer seats! Do you want to get kicked out by security? Don’t drag me down with you!” Julian looked nervous. “Scarlett, maybe we should move…” “Sit,” I said, squeezing his hand. I turned my head slightly, whispering to Finn. “Worry about yourself.” Finn opened his mouth to curse me out, but the ceremony began. He had to fix his face for the cameras. I could feel his glare burning a hole in the back of my head. Finally, the category for Best Actor arrived. The spotlight hit Finn. On the big screen, he feigned surprise, hugged Hailey, and walked up to the stage. He looked triumphant, gripping the golden statue. He launched into his prepared speech. “I am so humbled. Thank you to the Academy.” “I want to thank the person who stood by me, whose encouragement got me here.” “She made me a better man.” “And to my fans…” Before he could finish, a gasp rippled through the audience. Finn looked confused, but kept talking. Then he saw the look in my eyes. I was smiling. A cold, mocking smile. He realized something was wrong. Finn spun around to look at the massive screen behind him.

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Thirty minutes before the wedding was supposed to start, I found my custom-made Vera Wang gown destroyed in the bridal suite. The train was shredded to ribbons, the diamond inlays were ripped off, and the bodice was drenched in red paint and dirty mop water. From the moment the dress was delivered until now, the only person who had entered the room was my adopted sister, Chloe, who insisted on doing my makeup. I couldn’t take it anymore. I slapped her. But instead of support, my fiancé and my parents forced me into a corner, demanding I put on the ruined dress and beg Chloe for forgiveness. “It’s just a dress, Elena! We can hold another ceremony later. Do you have to act like such a psycho and hit people? Apologize now, or the engagement is off!” I watched Ethan tenderly comfort my sobbing sister. I fought back the tears, turned around, and walked out the door. I dialed a number I had saved in my contacts a long time ago. “Hello, I’d like to purchase residency on the private island. And I want the ‘Customized Family’ package.” A pleasant, robotic female voice answered from the other end: “Purchase confirmed. Your move-in date is in 10 days. Welcome home.” 1 “I said apologize to Chloe. Are you deaf?” Ethan’s voice stopped me in my tracks, dripping with impatience. I tried to walk out, but my parents grabbed my arms, dragging me back in front of Chloe. My father’s grip was so tight my wrist instantly bruised. Mom shoved me against the wall, pointing a manicured finger at my face. “What happened to you? You used to be sweet. You made a mistake, and you need to apologize to your sister. Did we raise you to be this rude? Don’t you dare walk away!” Blood from a cut on my forehead trickled into my eye, turning my vision red. I looked in the mirror at my pathetic reflection and laughed bitterly. From the start, this wedding was planned entirely around Chloe’s tastes. Even my makeup was applied by her—my parents insisted she was a “pro.” But she had made me look like a ghost. And the only thing I was allowed to choose—my dress—was now destroyed by her hands. I scanned the room. Every single person looked at me with disgust while fiercely protecting the fragile, weeping Chloe behind them. “Right. She did nothing wrong. It’s always me.” I should never have come back from the foster system. I should have stayed in the trailer park and let this cuckoo bird keep her stolen nest. My father scoffed, rolling up his sleeves before slapping me hard across the face. “Hmph. As long as you know you’re wrong.” “But actions have consequences. Since you’re too stubborn to beg, I’ll teach you some manners.” He grabbed me by the collar and kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to crash onto the hardwood floor. Pain shot through my legs. Chloe, eyes brimming with fake tears, smirked at me before putting on her act. “I forgive her, Daddy. Please, let her up!” “She’s just been jealous since she came back home. But as long as she treats me like a sister and lets me stay, she can do whatever she wants to me.” Ethan looked at her with adoration. “You’re too kind, Chloe. Stop crying.” “If it weren’t for that stupid pact our grandmothers made, I would never be marrying her.” After the forced apology, I used the wall to pull myself up, desperate to leave. But my parents blocked the door. “The guests are seated. The invites were sent months ago. Where do you think you’re going?” “Even if Ethan wants to be with Chloe later, you are going to finish this show today!” They forced me into a cheap, off-the-rack bridesmaid dress Chloe had brought. The hem was stained with red paint from my destroyed gown. I had no choice. When I refused, Mom grabbed my hair, stripped me, and threw me into the changing stall. “Since you came back, Chloe has given you all her old clothes. You seemed happy enough then.” “Why are you too good for this one now?” Chloe added softly, her voice trembling, “Elena, are you still mad at me?” Under their relentless pressure, fighting back the nausea, I put on the dress. 2 Standing at the altar, the whispers of the guests surrounded me like a swarm of bees. “That dress looks like it came from a thrift store. You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can’t take the trash out of the girl.” “And that makeup… is she trying to do avant-garde horror?” My parents gave their toasts, playing the loving family. I drank glass after glass of champagne, my skin burning and swelling under the cheap cosmetics Chloe had used. When Chloe came up to give a toast, I whispered, asking if she tampered with the makeup. She suddenly clutched her chest, gasping dramatically. “Elena, it’s not my fault! I just wanted to wish you happiness… why are you attacking me?” Then she hyperventilated and collapsed. Ethan shoved me aside, scooping Chloe into his arms. “Call 911! Get the car!” Mom’s gaze pierced me like a nail gun. “You just had to trigger her in front of everyone, didn’t you? You know she has a heart condition! Do you want to kill her?” My allergic reaction was closing my throat. I could barely breathe, wheezing, bent over in a cold sweat, silently begging them to help me too. But no one looked at me. My entire family abandoned me at the altar, rushing Chloe to the hospital. Under the mocking and pitying gazes of the guests, I used my last ounce of strength to call an ambulance for myself. When I woke up in the ER, there wasn’t a single text asking if I was alive. Of course. They were too busy caring for Chloe. Why would they care about the daughter they left behind? My phone buzzed. A text from Chloe. Elena, did you really think I’d let you have a happy wedding? They love me. What do you have to compete with? I dropped the phone and closed my eyes. It didn’t matter anymore. Soon, I would have a family that actually cared. I wouldn’t have to beg for the scraps of love falling from her fingers. 3 When I returned home from the hospital alone, I saw the three of them sitting in the living room. Mom had cooked a feast for Chloe. They had already finished; only dirty plates remained. Just like always. Nothing for me. I tried to slip past them to my room to pack. Dad looked up, frowning. He didn’t ask why I was late or if I was okay. He just started yelling. “We haven’t settled the score for today. You ruined the wedding!” I stared at him. The father I remembered from my childhood was gone, replaced by this stranger glaring at me. “Chloe destroyed my dress.” My quiet defense made him explode. “You have no proof! Why do you always lie?” Chloe squeezed out two tears, and Ethan immediately pulled her into a protective hug. Dad looked at the cuddling pair, then at me. “You never deserved Ethan anyway. If his grandmother hadn’t insisted on the engagement, well… you see the signs. Everything going wrong today is proof you two aren’t a match.” “Tomorrow, I’m telling the York family we’re switching brides.” Mom looked at me with deep disappointment. “How did you turn out like this? You were such a sweet baby. Sometimes I wonder if the DNA test was wrong. Chloe acts more like my real daughter.” My heart ached, but I bit my lip to stop the tears. Dad’s voice dropped an octave. “You deflect blame and accuse your sister of bullying you. But ever since you came back, you’ve been the one fighting for dominance.” That opened the floodgates. They started listing every ‘crime’ I had committed against Chloe. The more they spoke, the more holes they punched in my heart. I was kidnapped at eight and missing until six months ago. When they brought me home, I was full of hope. Chloe had smiled and reached for my hand. I screamed and pushed her into a drainage ditch. From that moment, my parents looked at me like I was a monster. But I stood there, staring at the blood on my palm. When Chloe grabbed me, she had a sewing needle hidden in her hand. No matter how I tried to explain, Mom just smiled dismissively. For the last decade, they had been a tight-knit family. I was the intruder. To please them, I fired the maid and did all the chores. I used the cooking skills I learned in the foster system to make their meals. But Chloe took one bite, vomited, and claimed she had food poisoning. Then her “heart condition” flared up. I went to get her medicine and found her pill bottle was filled with Vitamin C candy. When I told my parents, they scolded me coldly. “Chloe told us you switched her meds. And now you’re accusing her? You’re sick.” That was when I gave up. Ethan, my childhood sweetheart, had welcomed me back with flowers. When I cried alone, he comforted me. I thought he was my lifeline. I learned what he liked, sending gifts to his office. But then I walked in on him holding Chloe, laughing. He promised her that my return wouldn’t change her status. Chloe was feeding him the lunch I had spent hours making, claiming our “new maid” cooked it. History repeated itself. “Since you came back, Chloe has sacrificed everything,” Mom said again. “She gave you her room, her clothes, her fiancé. What more do you want?” I never wanted her charity. I just wanted what was mine. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “Those things were mine! You are my parents!” They didn’t flinch. “Finally, you admit it. You never accepted her. We adopted her. No matter how jealous you are, she is family!” I opened my mouth, then closed it. There was no point. “You know,” Dad muttered, “it would have been better if you never came back.” With that sentence, my heart finally shattered. 4 After soothing Chloe, Ethan walked over to me. He looked down at me with disdain and delivered the verdict. Even if it meant breaking the contract, he was going to marry Chloe. “Fine,” I nodded. “I wish you a lifetime of happiness.” I went upstairs to my room, but stopped. It was completely changed. “Chloe isn’t feeling well,” Mom called out from the kitchen. “You stayed in the master suite for a month. That’s enough.” They had moved my things to the dusty attic. Not that I had much. Just the hand-me-downs Chloe didn’t want. “I cleared it all out. Check if I missed anything,” Mom said. “No need. I won’t need it.” I was going to the island. I would have a fully furnished villa and a new family. “At least you have some self-awareness,” Mom said, turning back to bake Chloe a soufflé. I curled up in the drafty attic, smelling the sweet vanilla wafting from downstairs. It smelled like my childhood, hiding in this very attic while Mom baked cookies to lure me out. That happiness was dead. This broken room was my only shelter now. I cleared a spot amidst the junk—old blocks, Barbies, a wooden unicorn Dad carved for me. All covered in dust, abandoned. Just like me. I sat down and looked at the photos the customer service rep sent me. They were the prototype designs for my customized family robots. They looked exactly like my parents when they were young. The rep suggested I choose my happiest memory as the baseline personality setting. So, I uploaded the photos from my 8th birthday party. For Ethan, I chose the photo of him smiling gently the day I returned home. 5 I fell asleep clutching my phone. I dreamt of Dad making me a floral dress and Mom helping me put it on. We flew kites on the lawn, and I spun around until the dress looked like a blooming flower. But the dress started to rot. It turned into the wedding gown covered in paint and sewage, sticking to my skin, suffocating me. I woke up gasping. The wind had blown the attic window open. My head was burning, my throat dry as sandpaper. I crept downstairs for water. As I passed my parents’ room, I heard them talking. “Maybe we should send Elena back to the country. With Chloe here… she’s so fragile. It hurts me to see her stressed,” Mom said. “Honestly,” Dad agreed. “Blood doesn’t make family. Years of bonding does.” Mom hesitated. I heard a pen scratching on paper. “But Elena’s foster family died in a car crash. If we send her back, she’ll be homeless.” Silence. A suffocating silence. Mom, Dad, please don’t throw me away. If you keep me, I’ll be good. I promise. But before I could finish the thought, Dad spoke. “We have to prioritize Chloe’s mental health. She used to have all our love. Having to share it… haven’t you heard her crying herself to sleep?” They started discussing Chloe’s vacation plans with love in their voices. My heart went hollow. I dug my nails into my palms until they bled. I had hoped, and I had lost. Dad and Mom didn’t want me. So I wouldn’t want them either. The island service offered customized family members. I could build a family that only loved me. These people? I was done with them.

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One week before the third anniversary of my brother’s death, my boyfriend, Caleb, promised he’d go with me to visit the grave. But on the day of, he ghosted me. That night, I finally got a text: “I had to go out of town for business.” I didn’t reply. I just silently folded my clothes and packed my bags. At midnight, Caleb’s ex-girlfriend, Sarah, posted an update on Instagram. The photo showed Caleb holding a birthday cake, looking at Sarah with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in years. The caption read: “Twenty-eighth birthday. It’s so good to be remembered by the one who loves you.” I didn’t call him in a rage like I used to. I just screenshotted Sarah’s post and saved it. Then I posted my own update: just three candle emojis. Caleb called me immediately, his voice tinged with guilt. “Don’t be mad, Chloe. I didn’t mean to forget your brother’s anniversary. I promise I’ll remember next time…” Three years ago, my brother took a knife for Caleb, saving his life. Now, Caleb had completely forgotten him, too busy drowning in his ex’s affection. Thinking of this, I spoke slowly, my eyes cold and desolate. “No need. There won’t be a next time.” 1 Caleb didn’t come home until a week later. Before he arrived, he texted me saying he was carsick and wanted my homemade meatballs. Usually, whenever he went on a business trip, I’d have everything ready before he even asked. But this time, I did nothing. When I didn’t reply or call, Caleb called me. “Chloe, where are you? Why aren’t you here?” I was cleaning out the study, tossing things into a box. “I’m busy. Take an Uber.” “Chloe, you always pick me up when I get back from a trip.” His voice was laced with annoyance. I gave a perfunctory reply. “I told you, I’m busy. Are you broke? I’ll Venmo you the fare.” He hung up on me. I walked to the kitchen, pushed down the rising tide of emotions, and started making lunch—for myself. I was mid-meal when Caleb dragged his massive suitcase through the door. He was sweating profusely, the calm, collected facade he usually wore completely gone. He dropped his luggage and went straight to the kitchen. “Are the meatballs ready?” Usually, knowing his stomach issues, I’d keep his food warm on the stove. He opened every pot. Empty. “Chloe, what is this? I told you I wanted meatballs.” “Are you that lazy now? Or do you just not care about me anymore?” In the past, I would have rushed to the kitchen to cook for him. Now, I just took a sip of my hot tea and said indifferently, “I’m tired. Order DoorDash.” Caleb walked over, pulled out the chair next to me, and sat down with a huff. “I know you’re mad because I missed your brother’s anniversary due to the business trip. But I really was busy and forgot. Can you just let me eat first? I’m exhausted.” He looked at me with weary, pleading eyes, as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. I finished my tea, stood up, and cleared my dishes. “I’m really not mad.” Caleb wouldn’t let it go. “Police work involves travel. It’s standard. I didn’t want to miss the anniversary, but work is work. I had no choice.” My tone remained flat. “Yeah, I understand.” Seeing my lack of reaction, Caleb deflated, slumping in his chair. “I’m already so tired. Why can’t you just be understanding for once?” “Okay. Go get some rest.” I replied in a lukewarm tone, looking at him like he was a stranger. Honestly, it was boring. It wasn’t a business trip. He went to celebrate his ex’s birthday. And here he was, lying to my face. If he had the guts to do it, why didn’t he have the guts to admit it? But I didn’t have the energy to puncture his pathetic lies. Caleb stared at me, a hint of impatience creeping into his eyes. “You’ve been wanting to see Hamilton for ages, right? I’ll take you tomorrow.” He crossed his arms, looking like he was bestowing a great favor upon me. I didn’t show the joy he expected. I just calmly declined. “No need.” If I hadn’t seen Sarah’s Instagram post this morning, maybe hearing him say this would have moved me to tears. Maybe I would have thrown myself into his arms. 2 Sarah’s post this morning was just a goofy photo of Caleb. The caption: “I mentioned wanting to see a musical forever ago. He said he’d check it out for me this time to see if it’s worth the hype. This man, always so thoughtful!” Caleb looked at me in shock, clearly not expecting my refusal. “No need?” “Why? Did you forget tomorrow is our six-year anniversary?” I acted like I just realized. “Oh, right. I totally forgot.” Caleb’s face darkened. He stood up and walked right up to me. “How could you forget our anniversary? Okay, stop with the attitude. Did you prepare a surprise for me?” I pretended to think. “I’ve been too busy lately, I really forgot. How about this—is there anything you want? I’ll buy it for you.” “Or I can just Zelle you the money. Buy whatever you like.” Caleb looked incredulous. “You’re asking me to buy my own anniversary gift?” He stared at me, a flash of astonishment in his eyes. For years, I had handmade every anniversary gift. Last year, he mentioned wanting a suit made by his girlfriend. I spent six months taking tailoring classes to design and sew a suit for him. The year before, he said he wanted to design our new house himself. I taught myself interior design and decorated the entire place according to his vision. Caleb stood there, looking dissatisfied. I didn’t know how to handle the awkwardness, so I grabbed my coat from the sofa and turned to leave. Caleb grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?” “I have a portrait session booked.” I shook off his hand and walked out the door, ignoring his angry shout behind me. I majored in Fine Arts. After graduation, I worked as a portrait artist. But after getting together with Caleb, he said he didn’t like me painting other people—it made him insecure. So I gave up the career I loved and switched to drawing webcomics. Now, I was finally going back to what I loved. After the session, the client looked at the portrait with satisfaction. “I’m so glad you’re back. We’ve been waiting for you.” “I’ll refer some friends to you. Talent like yours shouldn’t be wasted.” I smiled lightly. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” I picked up my phone and saw several missed calls. Some from Caleb, and some from my best friend, Quinn. I ignored Caleb and called Quinn back. “What’s up?” “Megan is back in town. We figured since the girls haven’t been together in ages, we should grab drinks tonight. Can you come? Will your guy let you?” “Sure. Send me the address.” After I started dating Caleb, he first cut off my male friends citing “family values,” then slowly isolated me from my girlfriends, saying he wanted all my time. Considering his busy schedule, I thought he had a point, so I drifted away from my friends. When I arrived, Quinn feigned shock. “Wow, a rare sighting! We actually got the great Chloe to grace us with her presence. Is your hubby gonna be mad?” I smiled and shook my head. “From now on, don’t worry about that. Call me anytime. I’ll be there.” 3 Drinking with my girls, I felt a buzz, my head spinning but my heart lighter than it had been in years. It was the first time I felt this relaxed since being with Caleb. I had devoted my entire being to taking care of him. I gave up my career, my friends, my self. I thought loving someone meant unconditional devotion. Now I realized I was just stupid. I checked my phone for the time and saw Caleb was still calling. I answered. A barrage of complaints poured out. “Where the hell are you in the middle of the night? Don’t you know I worry?” “I’ve been traveling for a week, I’m exhausted. Can you stop causing trouble? Can you stop making me worry?” “You… don’t have to worry.” My speech was slurred. The line went silent for a moment before Caleb’s angry voice cut through. “Have you been drinking?” “Send me the address. I’m coming to get you.” For a second, I felt a flicker of the old hope. Caleb coming to pick me up? But subconsciously, I didn’t want him there. I stayed silent. Quinn leaned into the phone. “Caleb! We’re at The Northern Light Bar.” I glared at her, but Caleb had already hung up. When he arrived, the girls were gone. They left thinking I was in good hands with my boyfriend. They looked at me with envy. But inside, I felt nothing but irritation. Caleb got out of the car, walked up to me, and looked at my drunken state with disdain. “Chloe, what are you doing? I explained I didn’t miss your brother’s anniversary on purpose. Are you done yet? Drinking yourself stupid just to get my attention?” “We’re adults. Playing games like this? Really?” Maybe it was the alcohol, but my mouth moved faster than my brain. “What business trip? I saw it. I saw everything.” “Caleb, am I easy to fool? Is this fun for you?” My head was spinning, my eyes full of pain as I looked at him. Panic flashed in Caleb’s eyes. He looked away unnaturally. “Sarah and I broke up years ago. We’re just friends now. Friends meet up. What’s the big deal?” “Besides, I’m your boyfriend now. You have no reason to be jealous of Sarah!” “You’re overthinking it. I… I’m not jealous.” Caleb turned back to me, anger rising in his voice. “Enough! Sarah and I are just friends. I just happened to celebrate her birthday! Stop being unreasonable! Since I got back, you haven’t asked if I’m tired once. You just throw tantrums!” “I have a temper too, Chloe! Don’t push it!” “Fine. Get in the car. Let’s go home!” I stumbled after him, staring at his back with sorrow. See? That was Caleb. Always twisting the truth, making everything my fault. We drove in silence. Caleb glanced at me several times, but said nothing, his face grim. 4 In the past, whenever we were alone, I would chatter endlessly, sharing every detail of my life. Now, I just wanted out of the car. When we arrived, Caleb followed me. Seeing me stumble, he sighed and reached out to hold me. I sidestepped him smoothly. Using the last of my sobriety, I walked into the house and went straight to the guest bedroom. I lay down before Caleb could react. He followed me in, annoyed. “Why are you sleeping in the guest room? Go back to the master.” I ignored him, turned over, and closed my eyes. Caleb stood by the bed for a long time, but eventually left without a word. My consciousness faded, and I fell into a heavy sleep. The next morning, I was surprised to see Caleb sitting at the dining table. “Up?” “Come eat breakfast!” His tone still carried a hint of anger, clearly still dissatisfied with me. This was the first time in six years he had made breakfast. Before, I would have been moved to tears and eaten every bite. Now, I glanced at the food and felt nauseous. I washed up, went to the fridge, grabbed a slice of toast, and ate it dry. Caleb’s face turned stormy. “Chloe, don’t cross the line!” “What did I do?” I looked at him innocently. When he didn’t speak, I didn’t try to soothe him. I changed my clothes and walked out. I went back to my alma mater. My old professor had contacted me recently about a teaching position at a university in Beijing. I had hesitated, dragging my feet on giving an answer. I thought Caleb and I were finally settling down after all these years. If I moved to Beijing, our relationship would suffer. But now, Caleb wasn’t part of my future. Painting and teaching were my passions. My brother once said I had a natural teacher’s aura. Now, I could pursue what I loved without guilt. My professor was thrilled. He patted my shoulder beaming. “Good! Finally! You agreed!” “But I heard you have a boyfriend of seven years. Is he okay with you moving to Beijing?” I smiled bitterly. “No. We broke up.” After leaving the campus, I went home to pack. As I opened the front door, I heard laughter. I walked in and saw Caleb hugging a woman, smiling brightly. It was Sarah. Clearly not expecting me home so early, Caleb pushed Sarah away, looking flustered. “Uh, Sarah just got into town for business.” “She doesn’t know anyone here, so I invited her over for lunch.” “We were just… hugging. Old friends reuniting.” “It’s fine. You don’t need to explain.” I acted understanding, my tone flat. Sarah greeted me with a smile, a glint of smugness in her eyes. “Chloe, nice to meet you. Caleb always says you have a great temper. I see it now.” I caught the double meaning but was too tired to engage. I smiled and walked toward the kitchen. “Sarah is here. Cook a few extra dishes. Show her your skills.” 5 Caleb stepped forward, acting casual. I poured myself a glass of water and drank it in one gulp. “Can’t today. I’m tired.” “I’ll order takeout for you guys.” Caleb’s face dropped. He glared at me silently. I knew this look. He was telling me he was angry, and if I didn’t obey, he would give me the silent treatment. Caleb was an expert at manipulating me. Before, at the slightest sign of his displeasure, I would fawn over him. But today, I just walked out of the kitchen. Passing Sarah, I smiled and said, “Make yourself at home.” “Caleb, is Chloe unhappy I’m here? Should I leave?” “Ignore her. It’s early menopause or something. She’s crazy. I’ll cook. You need to taste my cooking.” “Lucky me!” I went into the bedroom and started packing. I realized there wasn’t much to take. The closet was stuffed with Caleb’s clothes. Mine were squeezed into a tiny corner. The whole house was full of his things. I gave up on the suitcase. Caleb walked in, looking at the mess with disgust. “What drama are you staging now?” “Where’s the salt?” “Oh. We’re out.” “If we’re out, go buy some. Now.” I looked at him, confused. “Why me? I’m not eating.” For years, I managed everything in the house. He was used to ordering me around like a servant. Caleb looked ready to explode. He yelled, “Fine! Great job, Chloe! I give you an olive branch and you snap it! Let’s see who breaks first!” He stormed out before I could reply. I watched his back, helpless. Why was he always angry? Like I was the one who sinned. “Let’s go, Sarah! We’re eating out. I’m taking you to a bar!” Caleb grabbed Sarah and left, slamming the front door so hard the walls shook. I sat on the bed, perplexed. What was his game? I lay down and scrolled through my phone. A minute ago, Sarah had posted: “I think I’m the luckiest girl in the world. No matter when or where, he’s always there for me.” The comments were full of Caleb’s bros: “That’s real love!” “So jealous. It’s always been him. When do I get a love like this?” One of his friends tagged Caleb: “Did you dump Chloe? The ex is always better, right?” Caleb replied: “Life is good with you here.” To the tag, he just replied with a smirk emoji. His friends never liked me. I knew that. They always made snide comments about how great Sarah was, how perfect they were together. 6 Eventually, I asked Caleb why his friends kept bringing up another woman in front of me. He scolded me, saying they were just joking. Reading the comments, I did nothing. I turned off my phone and went to sleep. Caleb came back with Sarah. She told me, “Caleb drank too much. His stomach hurts. Make him some honey water.” As she turned to leave, she added, “Make sure it’s not too sweet. Caleb hates sweet things.” Caleb woke up, looking at Sarah with pure affection. “Sarah, you remembered.” I watched them, their eyes locked. “So, should I give you guys the room? I can sleep in the guest room?” They both froze. Sarah looked at Caleb, then turned and left. After she was gone, Caleb sat up, glaring at me. “Chloe, what is your problem? Your boyfriend is out drinking with another woman and you don’t even call?” “My friends’ girlfriends pick them up. You? You don’t even check on me?” “Chloe, is this how you love me?” He was tearing up. “Your friends don’t like me. Why would I go there to be humiliated?” “Besides, you had your good friend Sarah. She brought you back. What was there to worry about?” I leaned against the doorframe, genuinely confused about what he was mad about now. He used to stay out late all the time. I used to worry, calling him incessantly. He would hang up or block me. When I tried to pick him up, he humiliated me in front of his friends, saying I was suffocating him. Now that I let go, he accused me of not caring. I really didn’t understand what he wanted. Caleb looked at me in disbelief. “You’re okay with Sarah bringing me home?” I chuckled. “Why not? You’re best friends.” Caleb froze. He stared at me, then suddenly laughed. “Did you see Sarah’s post? You’re jealous, aren’t you?” “Come on, the post was just a Truth or Dare penalty. Don’t overthink it.” He smiled, looking relieved. “Sarah hasn’t been back in years. It’s natural I treat her. I planned to cook at home, but you didn’t buy salt, so we went out.” “Right. My fault.” “My fault for not breaking up with you sooner.” “Caleb, let’s break up.”

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My husband locked me in the house because he was afraid I’d ruin his concert date with his “little secretary.” When a sudden fire broke out, I called him for help, begging him to come back. All I got was his impatient dismissal: “Can’t you be a little more mature? I just gave your concert tickets to someone else. Do you have to hold a grudge against a young girl and make up such a pathetic lie?” I passed out from the smoke. After barely escaping with my life, I saw them on social media. They were on the Kiss Cam. The girl was shyly burying her face in my husband’s chest. The caption read: So sweet! Couple goals! Furious, I left a comment: “Kissing someone else’s husband? A homewrecker and a dog—perfect match. Do you have no shame?” Moments later, my phone blew up. “Harper, apologize to Bella right now, or we’re getting a divorce!” 1 The pain of the burns on my skin was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I could have escaped easily, but my husband, Carter, had drugged my water with sleeping pills and locked me inside to ensure I wouldn’t crash his “date.” Now, sitting in the back of the ambulance, my mind was terrifyingly clear. Carter called. There was no concern in his voice, only rage. “What the hell are you posting online? Do you know this is cyberbullying? Bella has depression! Now everyone is calling her a homewrecker!” “It was just two tickets to Taylor Swift! How much were they? I’ll Venmo you double. Do you have to target Bella like this?” My tears fell uncontrollably—from the pain, from the betrayal. It was the Eras Tour, the farewell leg. I spent weeks fighting scalpers to get those tickets. But just because Bella, the daughter of his dad’s old army buddy, said she wanted to go, Carter gave them to her. He never went to concerts with me. He said they were “too loud” and “not his scene.” But Bella only had to pout, and his principles vanished. “Delete the comment and post a clarification. Later, I’ll bring Bella over, and you will formally apologize to her.” “The house caught fire. I almost died, Carter.” I cut him off, my voice cold as ice. He laughed on the other end. “Harper, you are unbelievable. You really don’t want to apologize that badly? You have to make up a lie like a house fire?” I hung up. Even the nurses looked at me with pity. My legs were severely burned, especially where the skin had fused with the fabric of my pajamas. The flesh was blistering and weeping. I leaned back and sobbed, the pain making me wish I had just died in the smoke. “We need to notify your family, Ms. Vance.” I opened my mouth, but no words came. I had no family. Just then, Carter rushed through the ER doors. Seeing me lying on the bed, conscious and seemingly fine from the waist up, disappointment flashed across his face. “I thought you said you were dying? You look fine to me.” My heart clenched. When we first started dating, if I got a paper cut, Carter would panic and drive me to urgent care. The nurses used to joke that if he drove any slower, the wound would have healed itself. Now? He looked at my charred legs and saw nothing. In his mind, unless I was in a body bag, it wasn’t a big deal. “Stop being so stubborn. Just apologize.” “Are you the family?” A nurse walked in, glaring at Carter with undisguised disgust. She had probably never seen a husband like this. “Sign the consent form. She needs debridement surgery.” Carter refused. “She needs to apologize first. Otherwise, I’m not signing.” The nurse was furious. “Her legs have third-degree burns! Are you gambling with her life?” “Please, Harper,” Carter turned to me, his tone shifting to manipulation. “The whole internet is dragging her. If she sees the comments, she might hurt herself.” “Just say you made a mistake. Say we aren’t married, and that Bella is my girlfriend.” I looked up, eyes red, staring at the man I married. I remembered how he used to chase me, swearing he would stay single forever if he couldn’t marry Harper Vance. Was his “forever” only a few years long? “What if I say no?” “Harper, I’m out of patience. If you don’t apologize, we’re getting a divorce.” “Okay.” 2 Carter froze. He clearly didn’t expect that answer. He scoffed, putting his hands on his hips. “New tactic? Playing hard to get now? Let me tell you, Harper, it won’t work. You’re the one with the dark heart, ruining Bella’s reputation.” While he was ranting, Bella walked in. Her voice was soft, fragile. “I’m so sorry, Harper. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked Carter to take me. I shouldn’t have let the camera see us.” She cried big, pearly tears, swearing she only saw Carter as a “big brother.” “Stop bullying her, Harper! Apologize!” Carter barked, his heart breaking for her tears. Bella handed me a bouquet of flowers. “Please forgive me.” “Don’t indulge her, Bella. She’s the one in the wrong.” The flowers were in front of my face. I grabbed them and threw them on the floor. I was severely allergic to pollen. In a burn ward, with my immune system shot, it could kill me. Carter exploded. “How did you become so petty? Bella is humbling herself, and you act like this?” Hives started appearing on my neck. Bella gasped, playing the victim perfectly. “If you won’t forgive me, maybe I should just die!” They made a scene until Bella “fainted” from the stress. Carter scooped her up, shooting me a hateful glare. “You better pray she’s okay, Harper. Or I will destroy you.” … My surgery went well. I didn’t see Carter again. I contacted a lawyer to draft the divorce papers. A few days later, Carter showed up with a thermos of bone broth. He said he made it himself. He admitted he was too harsh before and didn’t realize the fire was real. “Drink it while it’s warm. I didn’t know the extent of the damage.” I thought he was genuinely apologizing. But when I touched the thermos, it was stone cold. A layer of congealed fat floated on top. It was undrinkable. Carter noticed my hesitation and explained, “Bella is hospitalized too. You know she has OCD and is a germaphobe. She won’t eat anything anyone else has touched.” So, he took the fresh soup to Bella first. I got the leftovers. Germaphobe? She didn’t seem to have a problem touching my husband. Bella was an orphan, the daughter of Carter’s dad’s military friend. They took her in. Carter always claimed she was just a “little sister.” Back then, Bella was a crybaby. If she knew Carter and I were on a date, she’d call and cry until he came home. Carter would laugh and call her his “clingy little sister.” I was so naive. I didn’t drink the soup. I handed him the divorce papers. “Sign it. I already did.” “?” Carter’s face turned green. “Just because I didn’t give you the soup first? You’re jealous over soup?” He launched into a speech about how Bella had no parents, how he was her only family. Why did I have zero empathy? I leaned back against the pillows, too tired to argue. I knew that while I was in the hospital, Bella had moved into my house. She posted photos on Instagram wearing my silk robes, cooking in my kitchen. They even adopted a cat—knowing full well I was allergic—and called it their “daughter.” “Bella forgave you, Harper. She’s handling the hate herself. You don’t know how long I spent comforting her. When will you stop throwing this tantrum?” He thought I was throwing a tantrum. We used to have a rule: no matter how bad the fight, one person bows their head, and we move on. Not this time. 3 I moved my things out of the villa and hired a cleaning crew to sanitize the place. If he wouldn’t sign, I’d sue for divorce. My legs were healing. My mentor, Professor Miller, urged me to return to the research team. As I walked into the lab building, I heard sobbing. “What if Harper says no? I won’t graduate! It’ll be a black mark on my record forever!” “Don’t worry. I’m here.” Carter was stroking Bella’s hair. She was clinging to him like a koala. “I knew you were the best, Carter! Mwah!” They were so wrapped up in each other they didn’t see me. When Carter finally noticed me, Bella scrambled off him. He quickly claimed they were “just playing.” But the hickey on his neck told a different story. “Why does the house feel empty?” Carter asked, trying to change the subject. “I threw out the trash,” I said. “And I’m taking my stuff.” Bella nodded. “Out with the old, in with the new.” Carter saw my suitcase. “Where are you going?” “To the field site. The project deadline is tight.” Carter’s expression shifted. He looked guilty. “You don’t need to go. Did Professor Miller not tell you?” I frowned. I checked my email. My world collapsed. Professor Miller said I was temporarily suspended from the project. He forwarded me a news article. Bella, the “Genius Girl” of the university, had been accused of plagiarism on a major paper published in Nature. Carter had thrown me under the bus, claiming I was the one who edited her paper and inserted the plagiarized sections out of jealousy. I was a rising star in academia. This accusation was a career-killer. “Carter, do you realize this will ruin me?” I glared at the scumbag and his mistress. I wanted to tear them apart. Carter shrugged. “It’s just one time, Harper. You owe her. You caused her depression relapse. Time will heal everything. Besides, Professor Miller loves you. Bella has no one.” He said Bella couldn’t handle the stigma. “Harper, if you really mind, I’ll post a statement…” Bella started crying again. It was grating. I laughed. My expression was calm, almost serene. Carter thought I was agreeing. “Fine,” he said. “If you take the fall for Bella, I won’t divorce you.” Looking at him protect her so shamelessly, I realized the love we shared from high school to marriage was rotten. The Carter who waited in line for hours to buy my favorite cronuts, who almost drowned saving me from a flood—he was dead. “Actually, I do mind.” I pulled out my phone and dialed the university’s ethics board hotline right in front of them. “I’m reporting Bella Davis for academic fraud, contract cheating, and malicious framing. I will not settle.” 4 Carter panicked. He tried to snatch my phone. “What are you doing?” he screamed. “You’ll ruin her graduation! You’re so vicious!” He didn’t care about my reputation. He didn’t care that I would be blacklisted from every lab in the country. “I am an authority in this field, Carter. Do you think a little mud will stick if I fight back?” Carter insisted it was “just a paper.” I looked at him and felt nothing but disgust. Back when we were in the lab together, he used to bring me snacks during all-nighters. He knew how serious plagiarism was. Bella clutched her chest, face pale. “I can’t go back to school. Everyone will hate me.” When she hired a ghostwriter, she didn’t seem worried about hate. “Harper, I know you hate me…” “Save the tears,” I snapped. “I’m sick of your act.” Carter begged me. But it was useless. We were summoned to the Dean’s office. My senior colleague, Julian, was leading the investigation. His face hardened when he saw me. “A lifetime of integrity, ruined by trash,” Julian whispered to me. “I told you she was a fraud. She couldn’t write that abstract if her life depended on it.” Julian had warned me about the “Genius Girl.” But I was too busy trying to save my failing marriage to listen. “Sigh.” I waited to submit my evidence. Bella couldn’t produce a single draft. She just cried and looked at Carter. So, she made a scene. She climbed onto the roof of the library, threatening to jump. A crowd gathered. Carter shouted to the onlookers, “Harper is my wife, but right is right! She made a mistake, and now she’s trying to frame Bella! I just want the truth!” Julian stood next to me. “Heart cold yet?” “It’s been frozen for a while,” I smiled. “Bella is a genius! She published three papers last year!” “Yeah, Harper is just jealous because her husband loves Bella more.” The crowd was swaying. Public opinion was turning against me. But then, some people started speaking up. “That’s Dr. Harper Vance. There’s no way she plagiarized.” “Yeah, her citation index is insane. Why would she sabotage an undergrad?” 5 Carter saw me and Julian. “Harper! Get over here and apologize to Bella!” “I think you have that backward,” I said, voice amplifying over the crowd. I held up my phone, connected to the Bluetooth speaker system I’d “borrowed” from the AV club. “Your dad asked you to look after Bella, not sleep with her, Carter.” “Bella, you have OCD, but you seem fine sleeping in my bed when I’m not home.” I broadcasted the photos. The timestamps. The texts. Carter went pale. “Bella is just a kid…” “A kid who knows how to leave hickeys? Carter, I didn’t want to air our dirty laundry. But you forced my hand.” Bella held the “depression card” like a shield. She would cry and manipulate. I wasn’t going to let her control the narrative. “I have proof Bella hired a ghostwriter. I have the bank transfers.” The investigation concluded quickly. “Ms. Vance did not participate in the editing of the paper. The plagiarism is solely on Ms. Davis.” Bella’s world crumbled. She squatted on the roof, wailing that we were bullying her. “Don’t do it, Bella!” Carter screamed. But she didn’t jump. She was too terrified of pain. Finally, Carter climbed up and carried her down. The video of her crying “Carter, hold me” went viral. Everyone saw their affair for what it was. My divorce was expedited. That night, at a bar with Julian and the research team, a drunk Carter stumbled in. “I know I messed up, but Harper, are you blameless?” “Security,” I said calmly. Julian laughed. “Trash took itself out.” The guys tried to drag Carter out, but he clung to the table. “You only care about work! You never cared about us! My family pressured me to have kids, and I never told you because I didn’t want to stress you out!” “But from the moment you met me, I was like this,” I said. “You said you loved my ambition.” “Now you’re just bored and looking for a thrill.”

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While organizing the walk-in closet, I realized something strange. My husband, Harrison’s, designer suits were gone. I found them all packed neatly into a suitcase hidden in the storage room. Tucked inside was a one-way ticket to Europe for this weekend, along with documents for liquidating his assets and disappearing under a new identity. That night, Harrison carried a life-sized cardboard cutout of himself into our bedroom, wearing a strange, unreadable expression. “Honey, if I ever disappear one day, don’t come looking for me.” “If you miss me, just look at this standee.” I smiled and agreed. “Okay.” I watched him secretly pack his bags and plan his escape route with his young, bright-eyed assistant. Then, I turned around and bought a plane ticket for myself—departing exactly one day before him. 1 Harrison stayed in the storage room until past midnight before finally creeping into the bedroom, covered in dust. Seeing me lying in bed, he shifted the cardboard cutout aside and climbed in, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Chloe, are you in a bad mood today?” In the past, I would have clung to him, pestering him to cuddle or complaining that he was up too late. But now, I couldn’t summon the energy to care. “No,” I replied flatly, trying to turn away. He pulled me back, stuffing a custom pillow printed with his face into my arms. A flash of guilt crossed his eyes as he kissed my forehead. “Babe, if I’m not by your side in the future, just hug this when you sleep.” The synthetic fabric scratched against my skin. It smelled like cheap plastic. I moved it to the nightstand, keeping my expression blank. “Okay.” My voice choked up, and my heart gave a painful squeeze. The man I had shared my life with for ten years was plotting to abandon me. He was willing to give up his status as a CEO just to run away with his assistant, Lily. And he was doing it all just to get away from me. I didn’t dream that night. I was woken up by the sound of crashing dishes in the kitchen. The sky was barely gray. Harrison cherished his sleep. Usually, I was the one up at this hour, happily making him coffee and eggs. Today, he was wearing an apron, humming a tune, frying eggs. On the table sat a perfectly wrapped gourmet sandwich and a travel mug of oat milk latte. A wave of bitterness hit me, and my vision blurred. He was always like this—warm, healing, perfect in the small moments. If I hadn’t seen those documents… “Chloe, why are you up so early?” Harrison smiled gently, his eyes full of what looked like love. I composed myself and sat down. I reached for the latte. Slap. He swatted my hand away. Harrison frowned, grabbing the travel mug. He poured the good latte into a pink Stanley cup and wrapped the sandwich in foil. “That’s for Lily.” “Don’t overthink it. I lost a bet at work. My punishment is bringing breakfast for a colleague for a week.” Perhaps sensing the shift in my mood, he quickly poured me a cup of the dregs—mostly coffee grounds—and slid a plate of burnt scrambled eggs toward me. “Eat this. I made it especially for you.” I lowered my eyes and let out a self-deprecating laugh. Harrison’s face darkened. He looked at me, confused. “It’s just breakfast, Chloe. Is it that serious?” “Why the attitude this early in the morning? Don’t you know today is the company gala? I’m going to be busy all day.” Ignoring his gaze, I said calmly, “Sorry.” The air grew heavy. Harrison grabbed the pink cup and headed for the door. Then, he doubled back, hugging me from behind. His voice was coaxing. “I don’t blame you. Wait for me tonight. I’ll take you to the riverfront to watch the fireworks.” I knew what he was doing. He was paving the way for his disappearance this weekend. Alleviating his guilt. Watching the door slam shut, I pulled out my phone. I booked a flight to Portugal. Departing one day before him. Since you want freedom so badly, I’ll give it all back to you. 2 The flight confirmation popped up on my screen. As I stared at it, Harrison called. “Chloe, a handyman is coming over to fix the plumbing and the hallway lights. Make sure you’re dressed and leave the door unlocked for him.” “If you’re scared, FaceTime me.” The lights and the sink had been broken for a month. I had asked him ten times to fix them or call someone. He always used work as an excuse. When I suggested hiring a pro, he’d snap at me for wasting money or being incapable. Now, suddenly, he was handling it. It was part of his exit strategy. He was checking off boxes to ease his conscience before he vanished. I leaned against the kitchen island, zoning out. I thought back to when Harrison and I first started dating. We met in college, on the debate team. I remembered the topic clearly: Is Freedom more important than Love? I argued passionately for Love, claiming it conquered all. He was the opposition. He argued that Freedom was the ultimate human need. We met, we debated, we fell in love. He used to carry me on his shoulders at concerts. He rode the carousel with me even though he hated it. He kissed me at the top of the Ferris wheel, promising we’d be together forever. Everyone said we were a power couple. Soulmates. Until yesterday, I believed it too. But our love had eroded over a decade of mundane reality. My affection became “clinginess” in his eyes. My desire to be close became “suffocating.” I recently found a photo in his cloud storage. It was a picture of my back while I was cooking. The caption read: Suffocation. My thoughts were interrupted by the handyman knocking. I patted my stiff cheeks and smiled at the worker. “Thanks for coming out. I’ll pay you for your time, but you don’t need to fix the lights or the water.” This house has been broken for so long. There’s no point in fixing it now. 3 When I woke up the next morning, Harrison was sitting with his back to me, knitting. Since last month, he’d been obsessed with yarn textures and YouTube tutorials. Whenever he had free time, he was knitting. I thought he was making a scarf for me. I even posted a sweet photo of his back on Instagram. He made me delete it immediately. His face had turned stormy. “I’m just killing time and practicing. If you want a scarf, I’ll buy you cashmere from Burberry.” That was when I realized he was using bright pink yarn. Lily’s favorite color. Hearing me stir, Harrison turned around. A flicker of apology crossed his face. “Babe, I got home late last night and you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you. I went to see the fireworks for you. Here’s a video.” I’m a light sleeper. I knew he never came into the bedroom last night. But I didn’t want to fight. I just glanced at his phone screen. The fireworks were beautiful. The background was filled with embracing couples. Through the noise of the explosions, a familiar, flirtatious voice was captured on the recording: “Boss, will we always be this happy?” “Of course.” Harrison realized his mistake. He panicked, locked the phone, and tossed it onto the table. “Just random people standing nearby,” he explained nervously. “Don’t misunderstand.” “Okay.” Seeing my lack of reaction, he leaned in to kiss me. Before I could even close my eyes, he pulled a surgical mask out of his pocket and put it on. He pressed a masked kiss to my forehead and pulled away instantly. He laughed awkwardly. “I think I’m coming down with something. Don’t want to get you sick.” I swallowed the sharp pain in my throat and smiled indifferently. “It’s fine.” When we first started dating, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. He used to say, “I could kiss you for a lifetime and it wouldn’t be enough.” “What about when I’m old and have dentures?” I’d ask. “Especially then.” I guess I’ll never see that day. The house felt emptier. The suitcase he’d hidden was moved to the trunk of his car. Even his toiletries were gone from the bathroom. Seeing me staring at the empty vanity, Harrison looked guilty. “Chloe, don’t overthink it. I just took some stuff to the office since I’m pulling so many all-nighters.” “Please don’t be suspicious.” In the past, he would never explain himself over something so small. His panic was a dead giveaway. But I didn’t scream. I didn’t ask him why he was running away with Lily. I didn’t beg him not to abandon me. I just looked him in the eye and whispered: “You work too hard. It must be exhausting.” Harrison bit his lip, his eyes darting away. “It’s not hard. I’m building a better life for us.” He moved to hug me, but the doorbell rang. It was Lily. She was wearing a cute, short dress and holding an English dictionary. She looked past me, staring straight at Harrison. “Boss, I’m stuck on some vocabulary, and I forgot the phrases you taught me.” “Can you tutor me right now? Chloe won’t mind, right?” Her eyes danced with the arrogance of a winner. I quietly pulled my hand out of Harrison’s grip. “Make yourself at home.” Harrison looked at my profile. I was too calm. A strange uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He stared at me, looking for a crack. I glanced at him, emotionless, and smiled. “You guys study. I have things to do.” He reached for my arm, but Lily grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the study. She locked the door audibly. I was the only extraneous person in my own home. I went back to packing. I picked up a pair of porcelain dolls from the shelf. He gave them to me on our first anniversary. “Chloe, we’re going to be happy forever.” From the study, I heard Harrison calling my name. I dropped the dolls into the trash can. Listening to the porcelain shatter, I smiled bitterly. There is no forever. 4 I opened the study door. Harrison was holding up a duvet cover. Lily was giggling from underneath it. Harrison’s face was flushed. He smiled and gestured for me to grab the other end. “She says she wants to play ‘parachute’ like she did in gym class as a kid. Just grab the corners and lift.” Even though I expected the worst, the sheer absurdity gave me a headache. Harrison didn’t look at me. He assumed I would obey. I felt like I was made of ice. I shook my head. “No.” The giggling stopped. Four eyes locked onto me. “Sister, I just missed my childhood… I didn’t mean to…” Lily’s eyes filled with tears instantly. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like me. I asked for too much.” Before I could speak, Harrison stepped between us, blocking my exit. His voice was low and angry. “I just asked you to lift a blanket. Do you have to have an attitude about everything?” I didn’t speak. I just looked at him. “Apologize!” His voice rose, thick with annoyance. “Do you have to make everything so suffocating? If I leave one day and never come back, you’ll be the one crying!” Harrison frowned, scanning my face. He was looking for jealousy, for sadness. But he found nothing. He sensed control slipping through his fingers. I turned around and walked out, closing the door gently behind me. The moment the latch clicked, the room erupted in laughter and playful shrieks again. I felt like a rat in the sewer, peeking up at their sunshine. Watching them plan their great escape from me. Tears finally wet my cheeks. 5 When I woke up the next day, Harrison was walking in the front door. He stiffened when he saw me, pulling at the women’s cardigan he was wearing. “I spilled wine on my shirt at a team dinner. Lily lent me her jacket.” “Don’t overthink it. Strictly professional relationship.” Professional relationships don’t involve eloping. I nodded and didn’t ask. In the past, when women’s items appeared, I didn’t think much of it. But as it happened more often, I realized his “overtime” was just time with Lily. Whenever I cried and demanded answers, he would sigh. “Why are you so sensitive?” A bitter smile touched my lips. His flight was tomorrow. My flight was in twelve hours. “Chloe, tomorrow is our anniversary. Let’s celebrate tonight. I booked that Italian place you like.” He folded the pink cardigan with reverence while watching me. His eyes held a strange mix of reluctance and nostalgia. I didn’t ask why. I couldn’t even bring myself to refuse. I nodded. Since I was leaving, we might as well use this last meal to end ten years of entanglement. I sat quietly in the passenger seat. Harrison kept glancing over at me. “Chloe, you’re acting weird lately.” “Did you… find something?” His face paled, tension radiating off him. I shook my head. “No. Just cramps. I’m tired.” He relaxed, but then looked annoyed. “You used to hate me being around Lily. Now you don’t care? You don’t have to be so distant with me.” I stared at his profile, memorizing every micro-expression. “Harrison, if you really want to leave, you don’t have to go to such lengths…” “What are you talking about?!” He cut me off, panicked. “Stop watching soap operas. We’re stable. Why would I leave you?” My heart felt like it was being wrung out like a wet towel. I couldn’t tell if he genuinely cared about my feelings, or if he was just terrified I’d ruin his escape plan. That was Harrison. When I was jealous, I was suffocating. When I didn’t care, he was unhappy. The silence was heavy. Suddenly, he handed me a bag from the back seat. It was the pink knitting project. “Finish this for me. I’ve been too busy.” I froze, staring at the needles. I was zoning out when the light turned green. Lily called his phone. Harrison slammed on the brakes in a panic. My body jerked forward. The knitting needle in my hand flew up and stabbed the corner of my eye. White hot pain blinded me. He hung up the phone and finally looked at me. He looked guilty, but his eyes were darting to the road. “Chloe, get out. Lily is in trouble. I have to go to her.” I covered my eye, agony pulsing through my head. “My eye… it hurts…” I whispered. “Take me to the ER… please.” He didn’t look at me. His voice dropped. “Can you stop being dramatic for once? Get out. Now.” “Get out!” Before he could finish, I opened the door and stepped onto the curb. I swallowed the sob in my throat. “Harrison, let’s get a divorce.” He didn’t hear me. He floored the gas, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust. I went to a clinic to bandage my eye. Then, I went straight to the airport. Meanwhile, on the other side of town, the man preparing to sign away his identity suddenly hesitated. He pulled out his phone and called me.

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On my wedding day, my childhood sweetheart—a chaotic heir from a military dynasty—kicked open the chapel doors with his posse of rich frat boys. He declared he was going to marry me and take me away. But not five minutes after dragging me out of the venue, he dropped my hand and smirked lazily at his friends. “Alright, boys, I win again. That’s the hundredth bet. Pay up.” He turned back to look at me, eyes full of mockery. “I was just joking. You didn’t actually think I was serious, did you? Go on back inside and get married.” They all laughed, mocking how I had chased him for ten years, how I would do anything for him. But what neither they—nor Chase—knew, was that this “kidnapping” was just a scheduled part of my wedding itinerary. 1 As I stood outside the hotel, shivering in the wind, I looked at the group of men in tactical gear and buzz cuts leaning against a vintage Ford Mustang. They were sparing no effort in roasting me. “Man, Hailey, do you ever use that brain of yours?” “It’s actually hilarious. Did you really hallucinate that Chase would marry you? That you’d be the General’s daughter-in-law?” Chase, the man who had just dragged me out of my wedding, looked at me with pure disdain. “It was just a bet, Hailey. Get a clue.” Hearing their relentless ridicule, I instinctively clenched my dress, my nails digging into my palms. Chase’s eyes were cold. “Hailey, if you’re thinking about how to cling to me right now, I suggest you give up. My wife could never be a stupid woman like you.” The laughter grew louder. I turned around sharply. A strong hand clamped down on my arm. Years of military training made his grip like iron; I winced. “Where are you going?” “Back to get married.” Chase froze for a second, then let out a scoff. “Hailey, when it comes to being pathetic, no one beats you.” I closed my eyes. Even now, that sentence made my heart skip a beat in pain. Did he think I was blind? When I went to drop off the invitation, I heard the bet myself. “Interesting. She’s actually getting married this time,” someone had said. “Is it real?” “No way,” a friend chimed in. “Everyone knows she’s obsessed with Chase. She’s probably just jealous of his new girl and wants attention.” Chase’s new girl was Sasha. A rising Hollywood starlet. She had performed at a charity gala on the base, and Chase fell for her instantly. Sasha had picked up my invitation, glanced at it, and tossed it on the floor, giggling. “She looks cheap. If I were a man, I wouldn’t look twice.” Amidst the laughter, Chase toyed with a lock of Sasha’s hair. “Wanna bet?” “Let’s see if she’ll run away from the altar for me.” Everyone bought in. “That’s a huge bet. No way she’d bail on her own wedding. Count me in.” “Yeah, Hailey might be obsessed, but she’s from the Enclave too. She has dignity… right?” My hands had trembled then. A tear had fallen before I could stop it. I left. Staring blankly ahead now, I let out a short, dry laugh. Absurd. Pathetic. 2 Chase and I grew up together in the Enclave—an exclusive community for military families in D.C. We were inseparable. After high school, he got into West Point. It meant strict discipline and limited contact. Back then, Chase held my hand and told me to wait for him. To wait until he graduated, climbed the ranks, and became a commander. He promised he’d come back to marry me. But somewhere along the way, he forgot. He forgot the boy he used to be. The first time I felt it was when he looked at me like a stranger and said: “With my status, I can’t marry some desperate girl. Are you trying to blackmail me with our past?” No matter how hard I tried, the distance between us only grew. So, I gave up. But why? I was already getting married. I had already admitted defeat. Why couldn’t he just let me go? “Hailey, you’re actually an idiot.” “Are you done acting?” “We grew up in the same circle. If I were the groom, I’d slap you the second you walked back in. Do you know how cheap you look right now?” Chase was yelling at me, spitting insults. I just felt exhausted. I shook off his hand. “Is that so? Watch me.” I walked away. Chase’s voice trailed behind me, impatient and cruel. “Fine. Don’t come crying to me when you get humiliated. I don’t have the time to babysit you.” I didn’t look back. When I re-entered the chapel, the confetti cannons popped on cue. Pop! Gold streamers rained down on my head. The guests applauded. “I didn’t believe the program when it said there was a ‘Runaway Bride’ skit, but that was intense!” “Adds a little spice, doesn’t it?” “What was the meaning again? ‘True love survives all obstacles’?” I kept a straight face and walked back up the aisle. The heavy oak doors closed, leaving Chase standing outside, frozen in shock. We exchanged rings. We said our vows. During the reception, I checked my phone. Chase had sent a barrage of texts. What was that? Hailey, did you just play me?! 3 Yes. I played him. I was tired of being the puppy he summoned and dismissed at will. I hoped he learned some boundaries. I didn’t reply. Just as I was about to block him, he called. I declined. He called again. I finally picked up. Chase’s voice was dripping with rage. “Hailey. You have three minutes. Come out here and explain yourself.” I answered casually. “Chase, the bet is over, right? You got the outcome you wanted. You won the money.” He took a deep breath, suppressing a scream. I was about to hang up when his tone shifted. “You really went all out just to make me jealous. A fake wedding? Was it fun?” “Fake wedding?” “Hailey, I’m putting it out there. After today, don’t expect to ever see me again.” It wasn’t like I could see him before. Every time I brought homemade food to the base, the MPs turned me away. “Captain Chase said no entry for Hailey.” Chase was always arrogant. Whether he believed me or not, I didn’t care. I rubbed my temples. “That would be best.” I hung up. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. I turned and bumped into Quinn. He was leaning against the wall, taller than Chase, his dress blues immaculate. The silver oak leaves on his shoulders—Lieutenant Colonel—radiated a silent pressure. “Who was on the phone?” I paused. There was a hint of jealousy in his voice. We hadn’t known each other long. The marriage was… sudden. Before I could speak, he leaned in. His breath was close. I held mine. Before I could ask if this was too fast, he grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray and smiled at my reddening ears. “To celebrate? Cheers?” 4 Quinn swapped my champagne for juice. We leaned against the balcony railing. He suddenly asked, “You never told me why you were at the City Clerk’s office that day.” I’m a lightweight. The alcohol from the toast was already hitting me. I squinted. “Just a coincidence.” But that day was actually my birthday. I hadn’t heard from Chase in months. He suddenly contacted me, saying he had a birthday surprise. Even though I knew better, I went. Near the City Hall, I heard the familiar roar of a jeep. I looked back. A military jeep decked out in flowers, with a trail of petals behind it. Chase was in the driver’s seat, smiling at me. My heart hammered against my ribs. The petals were custom-made. I picked one up. Be mine— My phone rang. It was Chase. “Told you it was a surprise.” I froze. Because I unfolded the petal and saw the name on the back: Sasha. Chase laughed over the roar of the engine. “Hailey! She said yes! Wish me a happy relationship!” I went cold. I couldn’t hear what he said after that. I thought about the time in the Enclave when Chase first “confessed” to me. He lost a game of Truth or Dare. I was the only girl around. It was a joke. I should have laughed. But I thought he just needed courage. So I said yes. We were “together” for four years. I looked at the petals on the ground. I realized Chase and I had never even had a sincere “I like you.” I was so tired. No matter how hard I tried, Chase and I were a dead end. That’s when Quinn walked out of the marriage license bureau toward me. He was breathtakingly handsome, ignoring the group of women ogling his uniform. He grabbed my arm. “Help me out. Pretend to be my girlfriend for five minutes.” One afternoon later, we had a marriage certificate. It felt unreal. He said his family was pressuring him. I was 28, exhausted from chasing a ghost. It clicked. Why not?

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