After I turned thirty-five, my body fell apart. My skin grew sallow, and fine lines bloomed at the corners of my eyes. Once, in the middle of it all, Damian’s hand squeezed the soft flesh of my stomach. “You know,” he said suddenly, “looking closely, you’re pretty average. How did I ever fall for you?” 1 I never thought my career as a caged bird would end at thirty-five. At that moment, my head was tilted back, my eyes fixed on the ornate carvings of the ceiling—the work of some foreign master, I’d heard. Very expensive. I always stared at it whenever Damian came to see me. In the beginning, he would grab my hair, forcing my gaze to meet his. He had beautiful, jewel-like eyes and the lazy grace of an exotic cat. But his grip was strong, and the roots of my hair would burn with pain. The scene might have looked passionate, but my pillow was always littered with strands of hair, tinged with blood. Damian’s voice would echo in my ear, a demonic whisper. “Anna, why can’t you just look at me?” Over time, our relationship… stabilized. At least we no longer fought like animals before ending up in bed. He stopped demanding my constant attention. He even unlocked the chains from my wrists. But by then, I had stopped trying to run. 2 My breath came in ragged gasps. I couldn’t keep up with him anymore. My hazy gaze drifted down from the ceiling and landed on Damian’s body, a testament to raw power. He’d been to a tanning salon; his bronzed skin was undeniably sexy. It was infuriating how a man over thirty could still flash such a roguish, bad-boy grin. It wasn’t just me; girls half my age would have fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. In contrast, my thighs were just loose, flabby flesh. My silk nightgown had a tear in it, but I couldn’t be bothered to change. Damian threw on a robe and sank into the armchair across the room. His features were lost in shadow, but his sharp, chiseled profile made him look like a marble statue. I pretended I hadn’t heard his question. “I’ll start a diet tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Sweetheart, that’s not what I mean.” He tapped the ash from his cigarette, his voice laced with a careless cruelty. “What I mean is, you were never that special. It was my love for you that put a filter on everything.” He made an exploding gesture with his hands. “And now, the filter’s shattered.” He walked out without a backward glance, his final words a mix of disgust and relief. “Anna, you’re free.” It took me a long time to process that sentence. My first reaction wasn’t the ecstatic joy of newfound freedom, but a deep, burning rage. The man who had sworn he loved me most, who had morbidly talked about mixing our ashes together after death, was now dumping me. The anger gave way to a wave of sorrow, and then, a vast, terrifying emptiness. Damian had broken me. For ten years, I’d been waited on hand and foot. No social life, no friends. I’d forgotten how to use a smartphone. The TV in my room was locked to foreign channels and would shut off automatically after eight. My world was confined to this villa and the half-mountain behind it—the private Blackwood estate. I was, in every sense, Damian’s property. And now, I had nowhere to go. 3 I had sensed Damian was changing for a while. In the beginning, he was suffocatingly clingy, always calling me his “Anna,” his moon, his everything. I went from agonizing pain to a slow, reluctant anticipation of his visits. Eventually, when he called my name, I started to respond. He would wrap me in a soft blanket, his touch gentle as he treated the raw wounds on my wrists. His fingertips would be stained with my blood, and he’d look down at me, his eyes overflowing with a twisted sort of tenderness. “Anna, does it hurt?” he would murmur, his eyelashes trembling like a butterfly’s wings. “You can hit me, but you must never, ever hurt yourself.” He was so gentle. So convincing. But then, his visits dwindled to once a month. Then once every three months. Then every six. Until finally, he threw me out. After ten years as a prized canary, I was unemployed. 4 I didn’t have many things. All my clothes had been bought by Damian. He loved dressing me up, like a doll. One day it would be an elaborate, ruffled Lolita dress, the next a simple, pure-white sundress. I wore whatever he gave me. When he stopped buying me clothes, I simply lived in my nightgowns. Before leaving, I looked in the mirror one last time. The woman in the reflection was puffy, her skin oily, her hair a tangled, unkempt mess. No wonder Damian didn’t want me anymore. But then… what version of me did he ever want? 5 I left the villa with a single suitcase. Inside were my ID, my passport, and a few old business suits. “Where should I go?” I asked the butler. He sighed, a hint of pity in his eyes. “Go home, miss.” The sunlight felt gentle, but it stung my eyes. As I walked down the street in my disheveled state, people stared. The shopping mall I remembered was now a desolate, empty shell. The city’s bustling heart was now a forest of skyscrapers, none of them familiar. Even the roads had been widened to four lanes. A desperate urge washed over me. I wanted to go back to the villa, to beg Damian to let me stay. I’d be good. I promised I wouldn’t cause any more trouble. A passerby must have thought I was having a breakdown, because they called the police. The officer used my ID to contact my next of kin. A voice I knew instantly came through the phone. “Mark!” I cried out without thinking. On the other end, there was a clatter, the sound of something shattering, followed by an urgent, breathless voice. “Anna? Is that you? Don’t move. Stay right where you are. I’m coming to get you.” Mark. My boyfriend. Of that, I was certain. I blinked, and tears blurred my vision. When he finally arrived, he was a watery smudge in front of me. He knelt down, his hands trembling as he took mine. “Where have you been all these years? We all thought you died on that research trip.” Mark was sobbing. I lifted my head, my own voice shaking as I asked, “My parents… where are they? Why didn’t they come?” His grip on my hand tightened. His voice was heavy. “Let’s go home.” 6 This was Mark’s home. It wasn’t mine. A child’s walker was parked in the hallway, and as we approached the door, I could already hear the clamor from inside. The piercing shouts of children, and a woman’s firm voice. “No! I told you, you can have a snack after you finish your homework!” The children’s whining pleas overlapped. “Please, Mom? Just one!” Mark’s eyes were full of apology. He wouldn’t look at me. I felt a pang of awkwardness and turned away, staring at a pile of things in the corner. His apartment was on the top floor, the only one on that landing, and the small alcove outside served as a storage space. It was filled with family clutter: a walker, a soccer ball, a kite, a child’s electronic keyboard. Every item was a testament to a happy, bustling family life. A sour taste rose from my heart to the back of my throat, stinging my eyes. We were supposed to get married right after graduation. Mark handed me a pair of shoe covers while fumbling for his keys. “You can stay with us for now.” The moment the door opened, a pair of twins rushed out and clung to his legs. “Daddy, Daddy! Where did you go? Mommy’s waiting for you for dinner!” A woman appeared, her expression impatient. “Mark, you get a call and just leave without a word? Do you even see me as your wife?” Her tirade stopped short the moment she saw me. “Anna?” she whispered. I recognized her. She was a younger student from our department. Lily. Lily’s expression froze. She stepped aside, ordered the children back to their seats, and assumed the role of hostess. She found a pair of slippers for me. “Mark, really,” she chided gently, “you can’t have Anna wear shoe covers.” She took my hand, guiding me inside. “Dinner’s ready. The Coke chicken wings are still hot.” The atmosphere at the dinner table was thick with unspoken things. Lily didn’t ask where I’d been. She just said, “Anna, please, stay as long as you need. Don’t worry about me.” I paused with a piece of chicken halfway to my mouth. Lily must have noticed how much weight I’d gained. I used to be so strict with my diet, rarely touching carbs. I’d even peel the skin off chicken wings. At university gatherings, Mark would do it for me, and I’d bask in his affection, and in the envious glances of others. Lily had been one of them. She’d always admired Mark, but he’d never looked her way. Not until I went to the Amazon for a specimen collection trip. There was a terrorist attack in the region, and that same year, I vanished without a trace. Mark finally spoke. “Lily was the one who stayed by my side, who helped me through the darkest time. The police couldn’t find you. Everyone told me to move on. So… Lily and I got married.” I stared at him, the chicken in my mouth turning bitter. I knew. Ten years is an eternity. No one waits forever. Everyone moves forward. It felt like I was the only one trapped in the past. “Where were you all this time?” Mark asked. I couldn’t tell him. Damian had terrified me into silence. During my captivity, I once managed to rig an antenna and make a brief call to Mark. It was just a few beeps, but it was enough for him to trace the signal to the villa. Damian found out immediately. He bound my hands and shoved me into his car. I saw Mark on the street, handing out missing person flyers. He had no idea that the woman he was desperately searching for was sitting inside the black Range Rover passing him by. Damian pried my eyes open, forcing me to watch. “This is a warning,” he sneered. A motorcycle sped past, deliberately swerving and slamming into Mark. He crumpled to the ground, lying motionless in a pool of his own blood amid the scattered flyers. I screamed, desperate to get help, but Damian held me fast. The tinted window reflected only my own horrified face. I learned my lesson after that. I never tried to contact Mark again. I knew if I ever revealed that Damian was holding me captive, he had a thousand ways to silence me forever. So I just shook my head. “I don’t know.” “It’s okay,” Mark said softly. “You can tell me when you’re ready.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. He was no longer mine. I mechanically chewed my rice, each grain tasteless. Suddenly, Lily burst into tears. I looked at her, bewildered. Fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she apologized over and over. “Anna, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have taken advantage… I shouldn’t have stolen Mark from you! I’ll give him back, just please, forgive me!” She gripped my hand so tightly it hurt. My mind was a chaotic mess; I didn’t know what to say. “Anna, I’m so, so sorry!” Her tears scalded the scars on my wrist. The marks were so obvious, yet no one had seen them. I remembered when Mark and I were together, I’d gotten a tiny scrape on my finger while we were making a sculpture. It was barely red, but he’d fretted over it, rushing to find ointment. Now, his eyes only saw Lily. I knew, with a painful clarity, that the past was gone. “It’s not your fault. Mark and I just weren’t meant to be.” Lily looked up, about to say more, but Mark pulled her away. Their hushed argument quickly escalated into a full-blown fight. The children, terrified, started wailing. The storm ended with Lily slamming the door and storming out. Mark ran after her, but not before telling me to stay put. I knelt on the floor, picking up scattered toys. The twins ran over and shoved me hard. “You ugly woman, get out of our house! Mommy and Daddy only fight when you’re here!” “Yeah, go away! We don’t want you!” I lost my balance and tumbled to the floor. Their tiny fists rained down on me, each blow a dull, heavy ache. Seeing I wasn’t leaving, they started crying at the top of their lungs, as if terrified I’d stay forever. “Get out! Leave my house!” “I want my Mommy and Daddy! I don’t want them to fight!” Watching them, so hysterical and helpless, I saw a reflection of myself. A flood of long-buried memories returned. The truth was, my relationship with Damian was never good. I was never captivated by him. I was just… out of options. When he first imprisoned me, I had fought back. I had screamed at him, just like these children were screaming now. He’d slapped me so hard my eardrum rang, and I had scrambled backward in terror. He’d pulled me into his arms, my body trembling uncontrollably, as he whispered apologies again and again. My resistance only made him more extreme. The constant friction of iron chains on my wrists and ankles left them a mass of scarred, calloused tissue, a cycle of wounds healing over wounds. He tried to brainwash me, telling me that if I just learned to love him, the pain would stop. But you can’t love a monster in a bespoke suit. To me, Damian was just a student from my department. He had been diligent and serious, and despite his wealthy background, he was humble. I’d respected him for that. I’d taken him on as my mentee, we’d collected samples in the mountains together. I had even complimented his beautiful eyes once. When our research made a breakthrough, we were interviewed by the media. Under the glare of the spotlights, Damian’s gaze on me was full of adoration. “Congratulations, Anna,” he had said. “You’re going to be at the very top of the scientific community.” Then his head dropped, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. “Will you still remember me then?” I ruffled his thick, soft hair. “Of course. We promised we’d work together to solve organ transplant rejection, didn’t we?” Back then, I could never have imagined that one day I would end up like this. He resented that the moon in the sky wouldn’t shine for him alone. So he dragged it down into the mud. And then, it was no longer the moon he wanted. He gave me pills. Medication that stabilized my mood but dulled my mind. Over time, my cognition blurred, and my memories fractured. Just as he wanted, I became obedient. 7 Ten years changes everything. No one waits in the same place forever. I didn’t blame Mark, and I had no intention of destroying his family. We just… missed our chance. “Almost.” It’s such a cruel word. I wished this was all a nightmare. That I’d wake up and my parents would be sitting by my bed, asking me what was wrong. That Mark would still be twenty-six, his promising career not derailed by a car crash. That I would still be my professor’s star student, charging toward my goals. But when I opened my eyes, I was still surrounded by crying children. The food on the table was cold. The world felt cold, suffocating. I struggled to my feet, wiped my tears, and left. Though my memories were fragmented, a small mercy surfaced: I remembered where my home was. I stumbled through the streets, clinging to the hope that once I got home, everything would be okay. But when I arrived, there was no warm welcome waiting. I knocked for what felt like an eternity, but no one answered. A thick layer of dust coated the doormat. The motion-activated light in the hallway flickered on and off as I continued to pound on the cold, metal door. “Mom, open the door! I’m home!” “Dad, it’s me! I don’t have my key, can you let me in?” I even pulled out my phone, pretending to send messages, as hot tears splattered onto the back of my hand. “Mom, are you out shopping? Please come back soon, I can’t get in.” “Dad, did you go fishing? I forgot my key, you need to come home and open the door.” The loud banging finally disturbed the neighbors. A woman opened her door and snapped at me. “Can you keep it down? The old couple who lived there passed away last year.” She took in my appearance, her tone hardening as if I were some crazy person off the street. “Who are you? If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police!” Finally, a sob tore from my throat. “I’m their daughter!” Almost. Just a little closer… and I would have been home.

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The notification for my annual bonus hit my phone while I was entertaining the 120 client heads responsible for ninety percent of my company’s revenue. When they learned that I, the man who managed every one of their accounts, had received such a paltry sum, the mood at the table soured instantly. Meanwhile, my colleagues were blowing up the company group chat, ecstatic about their $25,000 bonuses. I finished my dinner with quiet composure. Seven days later, my contract expired, and I walked away. My boss’s scream was so raw it nearly shattered the phone: “Why? Why did they all pull their funding!?” 1 Seven Days Until Contract Expiration. The banquet was held at The Pinnacle Club, the city’s most exclusive hotel. Light from the crystal chandeliers scattered like crushed diamonds, illuminating the impeccably dressed faces at every table. Seated here were the heads of the 120 partner firms who were the lifeblood of Innovatech Solutions, accounting for ninety percent of our revenue. And the person responsible for managing all 120 of these client relationships was me, Alex Simpson. Glass in hand, I moved effortlessly between tables, exchanging pleasantries with every executive I knew. Many of them I’d worked with since my first year at the company; our relationships had long since transcended a simple client-vendor dynamic. “Alex, for our group’s new project next year, it has to be you. I don’t trust anyone else,” said Mr. Roberts, the procurement director of a nationally renowned corporation, clapping me on the shoulder. I smiled and nodded. “You can count on me, Mr. Roberts. As long as I’m here, your business is my business.” Just then, my phone began vibrating insistently in my pocket. Excusing myself to the restroom, I found an empty corner in the hallway and lit up the screen. It was the company-wide Slack channel, currently a flood of celebratory notifications. “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan! Thank you, Innovatech! The $25k bonus just landed! Let’s kill it again next year!” That was Jessica, a colleague whose primary job consisted of reformatting my project reports and putting her own name on them. “Wow! You rock, Jessica! I got $25k too!” “Me too! The company was so generous this year!” “Mr. Sullivan is the man! Hard work pays off!” … The screenshots of the $25,000 wire transfers were like a series of silent slaps across my face. Expressionless, I scrolled past the glaring images and opened my banking app. A single new transaction was listed. Amount: $950.00. Not a single cent over, no congratulatory note. Just a cold, clinical number, the kind of sum you’d give an intern for their trouble. I stared at the number for a full ten seconds. There was no anger, no disappointment. The last ember of hope I’d been nursing for this company finally died, leaving behind nothing but cold, numb ash. I should have known. Back at the main table, the atmosphere was still lively. I put my professional smile back on as if nothing had happened. Mr. Roberts, seated next to me, was clinking glasses with someone and accidentally bumped my phone. As I instinctively lit the screen to put it away, the number—$950.00—flashed in the corner of his eye. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He set down his glass and asked, seemingly at random, “Alex, your company did great this year. The bonuses must be pretty good, right? Your colleagues seem thrilled in the group chat.” I met his gaze directly and calmly spoke two words. “Nine-fifty.” The lively table fell silent, as if someone had hit a mute button. In that brief second, all sound vanished. The executives closest to me had heard the number. Their expressions were a kaleidoscope of emotions: from initial surprise to disbelief, and finally, to a shared, knowing anger. These were sharp people. They understood immediately. The key employee who provided them with year-round, dedicated service and secured ninety percent of the company’s revenue was given a measly nine hundred and fifty dollars, while office workers whose names they didn’t even know were pocketing twenty-five thousand. The implication was clear. The mood turned awkward and tense. I, however, acted as if I were oblivious. I picked up my glass, stood, and offered the silent table a perfectly composed smile. “Gentlemen, thank you all for your support this past year. I’d like to propose a toast. I’ll drink to that.” I drained my glass in one go. The sharp burn of the liquor felt as though it was incinerating years of frustration and fatigue. I quickly steered the conversation toward next year’s market strategy, using my professional expertise to force the dinner back on track. But the damage was done. A thorn was now lodged in everyone’s mind, and no matter how I tried to liven things up, a subtle but distinct chill remained. The clients began exchanging frequent glances. I saw sympathy, indignation, and something else… resolve. The dinner ended abruptly. As the guests filed out, Mr. Roberts was the last to leave. He paused beside me, his experienced eyes studying me intently. He lowered his voice, speaking just loudly enough for me to hear. “Alex, you’ve been wronged. This place isn’t worthy of you. If you ever decide to make a move, you call me first.” A warmth spread through my chest. I gave him a solemn nod. “Thank you, Mr. Roberts.” After seeing the last guest off, I went home to my empty apartment. Instead of my usual routine of firing up the laptop to deal with work emails, I made myself a cup of tea. There was no anger, no sadness. When you’ve completely given up on something, emotions become an unnecessary luxury. I opened my computer, ignored the work I had to do, and created a new document titled “Handover Checklist.” Methodically, I began listing every workflow, every client’s basic information, and the framework of every project. My thoughts were terrifyingly clear. Then, I looked at the calendar on my wall. A date seven days from now was circled in red. Beside it were two words: Contract Ends. My gaze was calm and resolute, like a general about to press the launch button. Finally, I opened my phone and found the contact for a headhunter I had added a month ago. Back then, he had asked if I was open to new opportunities. I had replied, “I’m stable for now.” Now, I deleted that message and typed a new one. “I’m ready to talk.” 2 Six Days Until Contract Expiration. I walked into the office and was hit by a wave of cloying, giddy energy. Everyone was beaming, flush with their huge bonuses, chattering about European vacations and new cars. Jessica minced past my desk in a pair of new, fire-engine-red heels, a ridiculously oversized luxury handbag dangling from her arm. She stopped intentionally, placing the bag on the corner of my desk with a practiced casualness. “Ugh, what an impulse buy,” she sighed dramatically. “This bag isn’t even that nice. What do you think, Alex?” Without looking up from the handover document on my screen, I gave a flat reply. “It’s fine.” Jessica’s smile faltered for a second before she raised her voice, addressing the office. “Hey everyone, to celebrate our amazing year, afternoon tea is on me! Top-shelf stuff, order whatever you want!” “Wow, you’re the best, Jessica!” “Thanks, Jessica!” A crowd quickly formed around her, happily tapping away on their phones, their laughter turning the small office into a marketplace. Not a single person asked me what I wanted to drink. I was invisible, automatically excluded from a celebration I had made possible. At three o’clock, our boss, Marcus Sullivan, appeared, his trademark paunch preceding him, his face aglow. “Alright, everyone, settle down!” he boomed, clapping his hands. The room quieted, all eyes turning to him with adoration. “This year, our company achieved unprecedented success! And it’s all thanks to the hard work of every single one of you here!” His voice resonated as his gaze swept over Jessica and the other high-bonus recipients with an approving smile. “I’ve always said that at Innovatech, we reward our hardest workers! If you put in the effort, the company will see it! Next year, I want you all to keep it up, and we’ll double those bonuses!” He painted a grand vision of the future, his shrewd eyes somehow managing to perfectly avoid my corner of the room, as if the person responsible for ninety percent of the business didn’t qualify as a “hard worker.” After his speech, he beckoned to me. “Alex, my office.” I rose calmly and followed him. Once the door was closed, Sullivan’s smile faded into a more serious, paternal expression. “Alex,” he began, pouring me a glass of water himself, “don’t overthink this year’s situation. I know your contributions were immense. The company sees that.” I held the glass, saying nothing, letting him perform. “But you need to understand, your success is largely due to the company’s platform. Without the Innovatech name, how would these major clients even know who you are? Jessica and the others may not have your sales skills, but they put in a lot of effort coordinating things internally and managing processes. They deserve credit for their hard work, too.” He launched into his favorite manipulation tactic. “Your bonus was a little low, I admit, but it was a comprehensive decision. You’re still young; you need to think long-term. Next year, if you keep up this momentum, I promise you, your bonus will be the biggest one of all.” I nodded, displaying the perfect amount of gratitude and obedience. “I understand, Mr. Sullivan. I’ll keep working hard.” He was clearly satisfied with my “understanding” and “compliance.” He believed he had thoroughly tamed his most valuable workhorse. He clapped my shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Keep up the good work. The company won’t let you down.” As I walked out of his office, I heard snickering from the breakroom. It was Jessica and a few others. “See? Alex is just born to be a workhorse. Does the most work, gets the least pay, and a few empty promises from the boss are enough to keep him happy.” “Exactly. Does he really think those clients are loyal to him? It’s all about the company’s reputation. Without this platform, he’s nothing.” “Serves him right. His competence just makes the rest of us look bad.” I walked past them without a change in expression and returned to my desk. Their venomous words were like the buzzing of flies, unable to stir any emotion in me. I opened an encrypted folder on my computer. Inside was a fifty-page document titled “Core Client Relations Bible.” It contained far more than just contact information and contracts. It detailed the complex internal politics of each company, the personal preferences of key decision-makers, their psychological bottom lines in negotiations, and even sensitive information like which private schools their children attended. It was the culmination of years of my hard work, the true key to maintaining those 120 client relationships. Calmly, I encrypted the core sections of the document, bundled them into a single file, and uploaded it to my private cloud server. Once it was done, I felt a massive weight lift from my shoulders. Just then, Sullivan strode out of his office, radiating confidence. “Great news, everyone! We just landed a new project! The client specifically requested our strongest team! Alex, this one’s yours. It’s a long-term account. I want you to make it our flagship project for next year!” All eyes turned to me, a mixture of jealousy and schadenfreude. I looked up at Sullivan’s smug, expectant face and, for the first time, refused him directly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sullivan.” My voice was quiet but crystal clear. “My employment contract expires in six days. I can’t guarantee the continuity this project requires. For the client’s sake, I suggest you assign it to someone else.” The office fell dead silent. 3 Five Days Until Contract Expiration. The calm was shattered by a frantic phone call. The system for Sterling Corp, our largest and longest-standing client, had suffered a critical bug, bringing their entire production line to a grinding halt. The tech department had been scrambling for two hours, but they were completely stumped. As the nominal account manager, Jessica had been torn to shreds over the phone by Sterling’s Head of IT. All she could offer were meek repetitions of “we’re working on it,” utterly clueless about the actual problem. Finally, Sterling’s call went directly to Sullivan’s cell phone. The voice on the other end was ice-cold, delivering an ultimatum. “Mr. Sullivan, I don’t care what your internal issues are. I want Alex on this, now. If this isn’t fixed in two hours, we’re not only terminating our contract, but our legal team will be pursuing you for breach of contract.” The color drained from Sullivan’s face. Sterling Corp’s account represented nearly twenty percent of the company’s annual revenue. Losing them would be like losing a limb. Sweating profusely, he abandoned all pretense of authority and scurried over to my desk, his voice uncharacteristically meek. “Alex! Alex, it’s an emergency! Sterling’s system is down, you have to fix it, now!” The entire office watched, their expressions a mix of emotions. I didn’t make any demands or play hard to get. I simply closed my laptop. “This will be my last official duty.” With that, I put on my headphones and began remotely accessing Sterling’s server. Sullivan and a crowd of tech staff hovered behind me, holding their breath. Jessica stood on the outskirts, her face pale, her eyes filled with resentment. Lines of dense code scrolled rapidly across my screen. Drawing on my five years of experience with the client’s system, and a contingency plan I had privately developed after foreseeing a potential vulnerability during the last upgrade, I quickly pinpointed the root of the problem. It was a deeply hidden database interface conflict, a latent issue left behind by an unauthorized modification made by one of Sterling’s own IT staff. Our tech team, unfamiliar with the client’s full system architecture, would never have found it. My hands flew across the keyboard—modifying code, rebooting services, clearing caches. My movements were fluid and precise. An hour later, I took off my headphones. “It’s fixed,” I told Sullivan. Almost simultaneously, my phone rang. It was Sterling’s Head of IT. “Alex! Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver! The production line is back up!” He sounded immensely relieved. Then his tone shifted, becoming more pointed. “Man, let me be frank. A talent like you is wasted at a company like Innovatech. They don’t deserve you.” I just smiled. “You’re too kind.” With the crisis averted, Sullivan let out a long sigh of relief. But the look he gave me was no longer one of gratitude. It was tinged with fear and resentment. He had just realized that the employee he thought he could control at will possessed a power he couldn’t begin to comprehend. Jessica, sensing his mood, sidled up to him and whispered, “Mr. Sullivan, don’t you think this is a bit suspicious? Our entire tech team couldn’t figure it out, but he solves it in an hour. What if he did this on purpose? To hold the company hostage and negotiate better terms?” Her words landed on fertile ground. Sullivan would rather believe in employee sabotage than admit his own management and judgment were flawed. The suspicion in his eyes deepened. I couldn’t be bothered with their drama. The problem was solved; my job was done. I printed out a document, walked to Sullivan’s desk, and placed it in front of him. “Mr. Sullivan, this is my work handover checklist. Please review it and designate a successor.” Sullivan picked it up and skimmed through it. It listed only the 120 client names, standard contracts, and publicly available contact information. As for the truly vital intelligence—the client relations bible, the network maps of key personnel, the nuanced communication strategies built on personal experience and trust—none of it was there. It was a handover checklist that was procedurally perfect, but practically worthless.

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Simon Graham had one rule when it came to his affairs: the women had to be docile. Any mistress who dared to approach his wife would be dealt with by the next day. But they still came, one after another, drawn to the flame. Because I, his wife, was known to be a complete pushover. To marry Simon, I had signed a prenuptial agreement. In the event of a divorce, I would leave with nothing. Later, to have our child, I agreed to send him to live at the family estate, seeing him only once a month. I had no power, no connections, no friends of my own. My skills were limited to beauty treatments and flower arranging. Until Simon’s latest mistress came to show off. “Mr. Graham is so rough,” she purred, rubbing her knee. “He had me on my knees all night. They’re still swollen.” I smiled, set down my shears, and led her toward the storage room. And when her back was turned, I shoved her inside. “You’ve worked so hard,” I said, my voice soft. “You should rest for a couple of days. Don’t see anyone.” 1 When Simon was young, he studied under a great artisan and had a mentor he looked up to like an older brother. During his most difficult times, this mentor helped him immensely. So, when the man passed away, Simon was the first one there. A week later, he returned with an orphan girl—his mentor’s daughter. She called him Uncle Simon. He raised her for two years. On her eighteenth birthday, she had too much to drink and confessed her feelings. “Uncle Simon,” she slurred, “I’m in love with you.” Simon’s face hardened. He forced her head under the faucet. “Are you sober now?” he demanded. He told me later, “If I had known she harbored those kinds of feelings for me, I never would have taken her in.” I smiled and nodded. “Of course, I believe you.” But he was afraid I’d dwell on it. The very next day, he sent the girl, Camilla, abroad. He promised she would never come back. Everyone said Simon was heartless. What they didn’t know was that as soon as her plane was in the air, he was on the phone with a friend overseas. “Take care of her. Make sure she doesn’t suffer, that she doesn’t get hurt. Tell her to be good, and I’ll visit when I have time.” His friend was confused. “If you can’t bear to part with her, why send her away?” Simon took a long drag from his cigarette, his voice low and gravelly. “I can’t risk it. I’m afraid Evelyn will snap and hurt her.” The friend didn’t buy it. “No way. The truth is, you can’t bear to part with Evelyn. You two have too much history.” A sarcastic smile touched Simon’s lips, but he said nothing more. To the world, Evelyn was the most obedient, submissive wife imaginable. Only Simon knew how terrifying she could be. 2 So he sent the girl he cherished most to the other side of the world. And to distract me, he began his string of affairs. For two years, he flew abroad countless times to see her. He spoiled her, coddled her, and in doing so, made her bolder. She even started to provoke me. Today is my birthday. She sent me a text: [Happy birthday, Aunt Evelyn.] [But I’m not feeling well. I miss my uncle. I want him to come and be with me.] [Who do you think he’ll choose? You, or me?] Today is my birthday. Simon told me he had a business trip overseas. “I’ll make it up to you when I get back,” he promised. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll bring it home.” Simon had a new assistant. She was a fiery, flamboyant woman who moved with a sharp, confident energy. She clicked across the marble floor in her high heels and let herself in with a key code, not even bothering to knock. Her eyes swept over me, a dismissive sneer on her face. “Mrs. Graham. I’m here to pack Mr. Graham’s luggage.” She didn’t wait for a reply, striding past me. But then she stopped, a sly look in her eyes. “Mrs. Graham, could you do me a favor and run upstairs?” she asked. “I need the third and fifth suits from the middle wardrobe. As for underwear, the new ones I bought are in the second drawer. I’m sure you can find them.” She smiled sweetly, bending over to rub her knee. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” she said, her voice dripping with false sincerity. “But Mr. Graham is so rough. He had me on my knees all night. They’re still swollen.” I listened quietly, a freshly cut rose in my hand. With a single, sharp snip, I severed the stem. The cut was clean, but it ruined the flower’s beauty. I sighed with mock regret and tossed it into the trash. I set down the shears and gave her a soft, fragile smile. “Simon said he needed to bring a contract with him. I’m not sure which one it is. Could you come help me find it?” My reaction made her frown, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. I lowered my head. “Never mind. You probably wouldn’t know. I’ll just call him.” “How could I not know? I handle all of Mr. Graham’s affairs,” she declared, her chin held high. “Show me where it is.” “Of course.” I led her down the hall, around a corner, and down a flight of stairs to the basement level. “Where are we? What is this place? Why would a contract be down here?” “This is the darkroom, for developing film. Simon brought the contract in here a couple of days ago. It’s on that table over there. Go see.” She walked in without a second thought. “Where’s the light…” Before she could finish, I stared coldly at her back and slammed the heavy door shut. “What are you doing? Evelyn, what are you doing? Let me out!” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “You’ve worked so hard. You should rest for a couple of days. Don’t see anyone.” Camilla’s texts were still on my phone screen. I picked it up and replied: [Simon can’t make it. Be careful what you wish for. You might just get it.] I blocked her number and deleted the conversation. Then I dialed Simon. “Hello, Evie…” “Your assistant. I’ve locked her up.” The line went dead silent. After five long seconds, Simon’s voice exploded in a furious roar. “What did you do to her? Evelyn, what did you do?” I idly toyed with a fruit knife. “Don’t worry, she can still scream. Do you want to listen? Oh, wait, there’s no signal down there. You won’t be able to hear a thing.” I continued in a conversational tone. “Let me repeat what she said. She said you won’t let me get away with this. She said when you find out, you’ll kill me.” Something in that sentence triggered him. He growled my name. “Evelyn.” A delighted laugh escaped my lips. “Actually, I’ve been wanting to ask you something. Simon, if I were to kill her, would you call the police on me, or would you help me bury the body?” “Evelyn… Evie, I’m sorry!” His voice trembled, but he forced himself to speak slowly, calmly. “I’m on my way back now. Just wait for me. Don’t do anything foolish. Evie, it’s all my fault. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay home and celebrate your birthday with you. I’ll even make you longevity noodles…” “You haven’t answered my question, Simon. Answer me. Are you the informant, or the accomplice?” My voice was a soft, gentle whisper. His breathing, once heavy and ragged, slowly evened out. He took a deep breath, and his voice was a low murmur, almost a prayer. “I’m your accomplice.” 3 Simon was back in less than half an hour, moving faster than I’d ever seen him. He burst through the door, breathless, and without a single glance at me, charged straight for the darkroom. The moment the door opened, the woman stumbled out, sobbing, and tried to throw herself into his arms. Simon sidestepped her without hesitation, letting her fall to the floor. “Mr. Graham, she—” “Shut up!” His eyes were vicious, his jaw clenched. “You will swallow what happened today and never speak of it again. If you breathe a single word of this to anyone, I will destroy you.” The woman stared at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about? She locked me in there for no reason! I don’t care, I’m calling the police! I’m having her arrested—” She made a crazed dash for the exit, but Simon grabbed her, his face a grim mask. I clicked my tongue, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. “Maybe we should just kill her. I’ll do it, you dig the hole. We can bury her in the backyard. That tree by the fence could use some fertilizer; it’s barely grown this year.” I said it casually, as if discussing the weather. Simon remained silent. Finally, the woman seemed to realize something. She began to tremble, a whimper escaping her throat, the terror in her eyes impossible to hide. Simon took a deep breath, his gaze turning to ice. “I’ll give you a sum of money to disappear. You should know that even if you go to the police, you have no evidence.” He escorted her out. The woman who had arrived like a proud peacock left with unsteady steps, completely broken. I smiled, returned to my seat, and continued my flower arranging. 4 Simon came back quickly, a warm, forced smile plastered on his face. “Are you hungry? What would you like to eat?” “Should I bring Noah home? We could all go out together.” “It’s been so long since the three of us have done something as a family.” … “If you don’t want to go out, I can go grocery shopping and cook at home.” “I’ll just check the kitchen to see what we have.” He turned to leave. “Your phone is ringing,” I said coolly. “It’s been ringing for a while. Aren’t you going to answer it?” Simon froze. “It’s just work. It can wait. Today is all about you.” “It’s ringing again. You should probably get it.” “It’s not…” “Mine’s ringing too, let me just see…” Before I could reach for my phone, Simon lunged forward and snatched it out of my hand. I stared at him, my face a blank canvas. “What are you grabbing?” “What are you afraid of?” “What are you panicking about?” Simon’s face was a tight, rigid mask. His entire body was tense. “You know.” It wasn’t a question. I placed the last flower in the vase and pushed it to the center of the dining table. “Know what?” “That you sent Camilla abroad to protect her?” “That every business trip was just an excuse to see her?” “That when she stripped naked and threw herself at you, you didn’t touch her because you couldn’t bear to?” I pulled his phone from his pocket. It rang again. I answered it. A girl’s helpless sobs came through the speaker. “Uncle, I think someone’s in the house! What should I do? I’m so scared!” Simon’s breath hitched. “Camilla…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, with raw fear and concern. But I didn’t give him a chance to say more. I ended the call. Simon stared at me, his eyes burning. He looked as if he’d made a decision. He turned and started for the door. “If something really did happen to her,” I said, my voice calm, “you’re too far away to do anything in time.” “But I can give you an opportunity.” “Draw up a divorce agreement that satisfies me, and I’ll sign it.” 5 Simon’s mother was the daughter of a powerful, wealthy family. She ran away with a poor boy, only to be betrayed by him. Heartbroken, she abandoned Simon and returned to her family alone. She died years later from an illness. Only then did her father, Simon’s grandfather, find him and bring him into the fold. By then, Simon and I were seventeen. We had depended on each other for years. The day he was welcomed into his new life, he took nothing with him but me. And I? I had left everything behind without a second thought to follow him. That is the story of Simon and me, the one everyone knows. But the stories everyone knows are always polished, sanitized versions of the truth. Beneath the beautiful facade lies a wall of rot and decay. When Simon’s mother first ran away with his father, they must have been deeply in love. But how long does love last? A year? Two? The pressures of reality quickly eroded their happiness. The man had to provide, and he couldn’t give her the emotional fulfillment she craved. So she sought it elsewhere. In our small town, my father was a professor at the local college. He was gentle, romantic, and well-read. He and Simon’s mother clicked instantly. First, a meeting of souls, then a meeting of bodies. I was the first to discover them. I was six years old and didn’t understand much, but I knew what I saw was terrifying, disgusting. They were tangled together like two devouring monsters. Later, my mother found out. Then Simon’s father found out. One night, he was supposed to be on a long-haul trucking route, but he came back unexpectedly. He caught them in the act. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a carving knife. One slice, two, three… My father was stabbed twenty-seven times—in the face, the head, the back. He died on our doorstep, leaving a bloody handprint on the door he no longer had the strength to knock on. He was dead. Simon’s father was convicted of murder and sentenced to death. Simon’s mother ran away, abandoning him, abandoning everything. That year, the snow was heavy. Simon, now an orphan, collapsed in a snowdrift. My mother stood at the window, watching him for a long time. Finally, she went out and carried him inside. She decided to adopt him. Everyone was against it. My grandparents threw us out of their house. They would not have a murderer’s son under their roof. My mother said nothing. She just took my hand and Simon’s and walked away without looking back. From age six to sixteen, for ten years, that woman supported us by selling street food from a tricycle cart. Until Simon’s grandfather found us. Then, she killed herself. She jumped from a building. No one knew why. Some said she was paving the way for me, that only by dying could she ensure the wealthy family would take me along with Simon. Some said the burden of raising two children had finally crushed her. Others said she never recovered from her husband’s affair and violent death. But whatever the reason, that year was a cataclysm for both Simon and me. A year of utter devastation. 6 Once everything was out in the open with Simon, he no longer had any reason to pretend. He left for his trip overseas immediately. I composed myself and went to the family estate to pick up Noah. The old patriarch, Simon’s grandfather, had agreed to let Noah stay with me today. My son was ecstatic, chattering away on the phone, telling me to hurry. As I waited outside for Noah to come out, Dominic, Simon’s older brother, arrived. “Brother,” I greeted him. He nodded. “Waiting for Noah?” “Yes.” “You can wait inside. Grandfather won’t give you any trouble.” I smiled and shook my head. “It’s fine.” One must know their place, understand the boundaries. Over the years, perhaps because of my quiet compliance, or because I never caused any trouble, the family’s attitude towards me had softened. Especially the patriarch. He no longer strictly controlled the time I spent with Noah. Sometimes, when I brought Noah back, he would even say, “Stay for dinner if you have time.” I never did, but it was a signal. A signal that I was slowly being accepted. After saying goodbye to Dominic, I took Noah to an amusement park. We had a blast, ate everything he wanted, and only went home when he was completely tuckered out. “Mommy’s going away for a month or two,” I told him that night. “I’ll be back before the New Year.” “Are you going for fun or for work?” he asked, his serious tone making me smile. I tweaked his nose. “A bit of both. I’m going to a retreat in the mountains. They have a ceramics studio. How about I make you a little kitten?” Noah nodded, then asked, “What are ceramics?” I showed him a video. His eyes lit up. “Can you take me next time?” “Of course.” I patted his back gently, and he soon fell asleep. No tears, no tantrums, no need for lengthy explanations. He had been raised so well. Even though his mother was not fully accepted by the family, no one had ever taught him to look down on me, to distance himself from me. Noah had his life. His parents had theirs. His great-grandfather had his. It was all just a normal part of life, like eating and sleeping. Why question it? Why feel sad about it? I never thought a child could be the anchor for my emotional well-being. But he was. In a thousand small ways, he taught me that not everything is worth tearing your heart out over.

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I was carrying my husband’s ashes home when the plane hit a pocket of turbulence, lurching violently. When it finally stabilized, the woman in the seat in front of me shot to her feet. She pointed a trembling finger at the box in my arms, her voice a piercing shriek. “It’s her! That box she’s holding! It’s a bad omen!” Her voice escalated, ringing through the tense cabin. “Isn’t it enough that her husband’s dead? Now she wants to drag the rest of us down with her!” The cabin erupted. A wave of condemnation washed over me. “No wonder we hit that turbulence! She brought a dead person on board! What a jinx!” “Make an emergency landing and get her off! Don’t let her selfish actions doom us all!” As the chaos threatened to boil over, the captain had no choice but to request an emergency landing. But when the plane touched down and the cabin door swung open, a stunned silence fell over everyone. Lined up on the tarmac below was a solemn procession of military vehicles. They were waiting with the highest state honors to welcome my husband, a decorated national hero, home for the last time. 1 A collective sigh of relief filled the cabin as the feeling of weightlessness vanished. I clutched the box tighter, my voice a trembling whisper. “It’s okay, Jack. We’re safe now.” My quiet words of comfort reached the ears of the passenger in front of me, a woman named Veronica. She whipped her head around, her brow furrowed as she scrutinized the box in my hands. Just then, the captain’s voice crackled over the intercom again. 【Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve detected a thunderstorm cell on our current flight path. For your safety, we will be rerouting.】 【Our new estimated arrival time will be delayed by approximately 30 minutes. Please keep your seatbelts fastened. Thank you for your understanding.】 Veronica’s eyes lit up with a kind of vindicated fury. She jabbed a finger at me and snarled. “I knew I felt a chill! It’s you! You had the nerve to bring an urn onto a plane!” “Get that thing away from me! Stop cursing us all!” I gently wiped a speck of dust from the smooth wood of the box, my voice level and quiet. “Do you have a guilty conscience, ma’am? You seem awfully paranoid.” Her face flushed a deep, ugly red. She looked ready to lunge at me. A flight attendant quickly stepped between us. “Ma’am, please, calm down.” “The container was cleared by airport security before boarding. I assure you it poses no threat to anyone…” Veronica cut her off with a dismissive wave. “I don’t care! I want a new seat, now! I want to be as far away from that… that thing as possible!” “Bump me up to first class. Immediately!” The young flight attendant looked flustered. “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but this is a full flight. There are no available seats in first class.” “No seats?” Veronica’s voice climbed an octave. “Then kick her off the plane! My father is Victor Cromwell. Do you have any idea how much business my father’s company could pull from this airline with a single phone call?” At the mention of Victor Cromwell, the flight attendant’s face went pale. He was a titan in the freight and logistics industry, a man with deep ties to nearly every major airline. The head purser hurried over, a sycophantic smile plastered on her face. “Miss Cromwell! My deepest apologies for the disturbance.” “How about this? Let me see if I can arrange something for you in first class. I’m sure we can make some room.” But Veronica wasn’t satisfied. “No! I want her off this plane! Right now!” “I’ve flown hundreds of times and I’ve never experienced turbulence this bad, or a delay like this! This is a curse!” She paused for dramatic effect, raising her voice so the whole cabin could hear. “We still have over an hour left in the air! Who knows what other disasters are waiting for us! It won’t matter if you’re in economy or first class when this plane goes down in flames because of her!” Her words were a spark in a tinderbox of fear. “What is wrong with this airline? How could they let something like that on board? I never would have taken this flight!” “She’s so selfish. She doesn’t care if the rest of us live or die.” “I don’t want to die… My two kids are waiting for me at home…” The murmurs swelled into a roar, a wave of panic and accusation that threatened to drown me. The head purser shot me a cold, dismissive look, her tone clipped and official. “Ma’am, given that your… item… is causing distress to the other passengers, we’re going to have to ask you to let us store it in the cargo hold for the remainder of the flight.” So, a tantrum gets you an upgrade to first class, while a fallen hero gets treated like luggage. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the box. My voice came out hoarse. “TSA regulations state that cremated remains are permitted in the cabin.” “Or do the rules change based on who’s complaining the loudest?” The purser faltered, clearly not expecting me to push back. “I… I’m simply trying to consider the feelings of the other passengers and de-escalate the situation…” “Oh, forget talking to her! Just take it!” Veronica suddenly lunged, her hands reaching for the box. I instinctively curled my body around it, protecting it with all my strength. In the struggle, her sharp nails tore at the black cardigan I was wearing, ripping it open. When the garment underneath was revealed, a collective gasp swept through the cabin. 2 Beneath the cardigan, I was wearing a wedding gown. It was a stunning, vibrant red, sewn with delicate golden thread. The life-affirming red of the dress was a stark, shocking contrast to the solemn black of the box. Veronica’s eyes raked over me, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. “Well, well. Your husband’s not even cold and you’re already dressed for the next one? Are you planning to get remarried the second we land?” Her words unleashed a fresh torrent of judgment. “Her husband is dead and she’s dressing like that for attention? The woman has no shame!” “I bet she had something to do with his death. Wearing red while carrying his ashes… she’s trying to curse his spirit so he can never find peace.” “If she was really grieving, she would have chartered a private plane, no matter the cost. She’s just cheap.” Their baseless accusations were like daggers twisting in a heart that was already shattered into a million pieces. Just three days ago, Jack and I had signed our marriage license. He hadn’t even had the chance to slip the ring on my finger before an urgent call came from his base, summoning him back. Before he left, he held me tight and promised, “Ava, I’m so sorry. I swear, when this mission is over, I’m going to give you the biggest wedding you’ve ever seen.” “Don’t worry,” he’d whispered, “I haven’t seen you in your wedding dress yet. I have to come back safe.” The next news I received was the one I’d dreaded my entire life. Jack had always been frugal, so I refused the military’s offer of a private escort. I wanted to bring him home quietly, wearing the dress he’d been so excited to see. I never imagined my final act of love for him would be twisted into this ugly spectacle of heartlessness. Seeing my silence, Veronica leaned in close, a theatrical ‘tsk’ sound escaping her lips. “That deadbeat husband of yours must have been a real piece of work. Even God doesn’t want him. Nothing but bad luck follows him, even in death.” “It’s obvious you don’t care about him. Why don’t you just flush him down the toilet and be done with it…” CRACK! My hand flew up, the sound of the slap echoing through the suddenly silent cabin. Veronica’s eyes widened in disbelief before she let out an ear-splitting shriek. “You bitch! You actually hit me!” My face was a cold mask. “My husband,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “was a hero. He lived his life with honor. You dare slander him again, and I will tear that venomous tongue from your mouth.” For a moment, she was stunned. Then her eyes filled with a venomous hatred. “Oh, we’ll see about that!” She lunged at me like a wild animal, her perfectly manicured nails slashing across my cheek, drawing blood. Something inside me snapped. I fought back, a whirlwind of flailing arms and raw grief. The cabin descended into utter chaos. Passengers scrambled to pull us apart, their panicked shouts adding to the pandemonium. It took several people to finally restrain us. Two flight attendants pinned me against my seat without a word, cinching my wrists tightly with zip-tie restraints. Meanwhile, Veronica was surrounded by a gaggle of concerned crew members, all fussing over her, checking for injuries, practically falling over themselves to soothe her. The head purser strode over to me, her face a mask of condescending authority. “Ma’am, due to your disruptive and violent behavior, which has endangered the safety of this flight, we have already notified ground control.” “For the security of everyone on board, the captain has decided to make an unscheduled landing at a nearby military airbase, where you will be handed over to the authorities!” A military airbase? At those words, the storm of my emotions suddenly quieted. That was the base where Jack had been stationed. The thought of setting foot on the same ground he had, of breathing the same air, brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. But this time, they were mixed with something else. A flicker of anticipation. I couldn’t help but wonder how my husband’s brothers-in-arms would handle this situation.

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Because I took an opportunity the heroine tossed aside, a stream of comments scrolling before my eyes branded me the “Life Thief.” Now, in my second life, the heroine is fighting tooth and nail for everything. And the comment stream is gloating. 【This time, our girl’s life won’t be stolen!】 But for someone who’s been reborn, she hasn’t learned a single thing, has she? … When I opened my eyes, I was twenty again. A fresh college graduate, sitting in the lobby of the Pierce Corporation for a job interview. I stared at my young, smooth hands, a wave of shock and elation washing over me. The next second, a series of glowing comments floated past my vision. 【Ugh, the first life was so disgusting to watch!】 【I know, right? How did that thief steal all of the heroine’s opportunities?】 【Thank God for rebirth! Now our girl can finally protect the life that was meant to be hers!】 … I watched the comments scroll by, utterly baffled. Heroine? Thief? What were they talking about? It took me a moment to piece it together. The “thieving side character” was me. And their precious “heroine” was Isabelle Price. My gaze drifted across the hallway. Isabelle was sitting right there, looking around with the same dazed confusion as me. I realized it instantly. She had been reborn, too. 【Why is the thief staring at our heroine?】 【She probably noticed her acting weird after being reborn.】 【Oh no! Don’t tell me she’s going to steal her opportunities again! I’m gonna puke!】 … That one glance unleashed a flood of dozens of new comments, some of them shockingly vulgar. The more I read, the angrier I got. Who were these people? And when had I ever stolen anything from Isabelle Price? Just then, Isabelle stood up and walked toward me. I watched her approach, my guard instantly up. We’d had a few interactions in our past life, but we were never close. Now, the way she was looking at me sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine. “Stella,” she began, her voice dripping with arrogance. “We meet again.” “This time, I won’t be giving up the opportunities that rightfully belong to me. You should probably just go home. Don’t waste your time here.” She finished with a sigh, her expression shifting to one of pity. “Although, I suppose the you of right now wouldn’t understand any of this.” Then, without another word, she turned and walked into the interview room, leaving me completely bewildered. She meant I’d stolen her opportunities in our past life? A few incidents immediately came to mind. But if I remembered correctly… Weren’t those the opportunities she had thrown away herself? In our past life, just like today, we had both interviewed for the same position at the Pierce Corporation. I was rejected. Disappointed, I was heading home when the HR manager came chasing after me, telling me to stay. Overjoyed and confused, I followed her back, only to listen to her vent the entire way. According to her, Isabelle and I had scored almost identically in the final round. But since Isabelle was a local, they had decided to give the offer to her. The problem was, as soon as Isabelle found out she’d gotten the job, she demanded an outrageously high starting salary. She said she was worth it. The HR manager tried to reason with her, explaining the company’s incentive programs for new talent and pointing out that her demand was far above the industry standard for a recent graduate. But Isabelle wouldn’t budge. She issued an ultimatum: either they met her price, or she would walk. The HR manager was so exasperated that she just gave in, agreed to the terms, and showed her the door as fast as she could. And just like that, the opportunity to work at Pierce Corp fell into my lap. So, that was me stealing from her? She had torpedoed her own chances! I finally understood the HR manager’s frustration. The sheer audacity of it gave me a stomachache. The comments continued their relentless scroll. 【LOL, look at the thief’s face! She looks so pissed!】 【Useless trash! I love seeing her get owned!】 【Thieves should just die! I hate it when someone steals what isn’t theirs!】 … Like idol, like fan, I guess. I almost laughed out of sheer anger. I was so disgusted I didn’t even know how to respond. Just as I was stewing in my own indignation, Isabelle emerged from the interview room. She looked calm and composed, which only made me feel worse, like I’d swallowed a fly. The truth was, she wasn’t incompetent. The HR manager in our past life had admitted that our interview performances were neck and neck. As long as she didn’t act like a lunatic, the job was likely hers. Of course, I wasn’t a naive college grad anymore. This position at Pierce wasn’t the be-all and end-all for me now. But the thought of her and that comment stream gloating was a bitter pill to swallow. Case in point, they were already celebrating in my face. 【Perfect! Our girl nailed it this time!】 【Amazing! Her reactions and answers were almost identical to the last life!】 【Looks like the thief is out of luck!】 … But what they said made me pause. Nailed it? Identical to the last life? Seriously, girl? A second chance at life, and you haven’t learned a single thing? You’re just running the same old plays? “Stella Reed? We’re ready for you.” The HR manager’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Coming,” I replied, instantly pushing all thoughts of Isabelle out of my mind. In my previous life, I had worked my way up from the bottom to become the Vice President of the Pierce Corporation. I knew every gear in that machine, every flaw, every inefficiency. My biggest regret was that I hadn’t been able to push the company to even greater heights. I had thought Isabelle’s interference would cost me that chance in this life. But since she had shown zero growth… Then I would be the one to correct the regrets of my past. As I walked into the office, I saw Isabelle shoot me a triumphant, mocking smile. She wouldn’t be smiling for long. My interview was a resounding success. An understatement, actually. The HR manager’s eyes lit up as I spoke, and she repeatedly told me I was exactly the kind of talent Pierce Corp needed. I was more than satisfied with my own performance. My answers were sharper, more insightful than they had been even in my first life. But the moment I stepped out of the room, my good mood evaporated. Isabelle was looking at me with that same pitying expression. “You tried your best, Stella,” she said slowly. “But it’s a shame. This position can only be mine.” I really, truly wanted to ask her how she managed to be so incredibly smug. But the comment stream interrupted me again. 【In the last life, the thief stole the heroine’s job, and she ended up miserable.】 【It’s finally the thief’s turn to suffer this time, right?】 【Hehe, I can’t wait to see the thief fail.】 … A hot flash of anger surged through me. What was wrong with these people? Wasn’t Isabelle the one who was so confident that if Pierce Corp didn’t want her, some other company would snap her up? She was the one who screwed up, lost her job, and now she was blaming me? What did I even do? Oh, right. I was being called a thief precisely because I hadn’t done anything. If I actually had, they’d probably want me drawn and quartered. The thought, strangely, calmed me down. I ignored Isabelle completely and returned to my seat. I was seething, but this was a corporate office. Starting a brawl wasn’t the best look. Besides, the most satisfying revenge would be the look on her face when the HR manager announced the final decision. I couldn’t wait to see it. While my darker thoughts churned, the interviews continued. The number of applicants was huge, mainly because the heir to the Pierce Corporation, Adrian Pierce, had just officially taken the reins. A new boss always meant big changes. He needed a loyal team to shake things up and clean house. Everyone was hoping to get in on the ground floor of the new era. And this heir, Adrian Pierce… Happened to be my husband in my past life. Just then, the door to the conference room opened, pulling me from my thoughts. But it wasn’t the HR manager who emerged. It was a tall, lean man in a tailored suit. His gaze was sharp, his features severe. As his eyes swept across the waiting area, the air grew thick, and everyone seemed to hold their breath. There was no mistaking him. It was the heir himself, Adrian Pierce. 【Wait, why is the male lead here???】 【Could it be because our heroine did so well?】 【That has to be it! The thief won’t be able to steal the male lead this time!】 … As another round of comments flew by, my brow furrowed. What did that mean? Adrian and Isabelle had some kind of history too? My gaze, when it landed on Adrian, was instantly filled with scorn. Tainted goods. Not interested. For some reason, our eyes met. His widened for a fraction of a second, a look of utter confusion on his face. He clearly didn’t understand the derision in my stare. I coolly looked away. Whatever. Let’s just see how this plays out. “Ahem.” Adrian cleared his throat. “Good afternoon. I assume you all know who I am, so I’ll skip the introductions.” “I have two announcements to make.” “First, after reviewing the final round of interviews, we have decided to extend an offer to only one candidate.” His voice was a low baritone, but it made every heart in the room pound. I stared at his lips, trying to read the name before he said it. But the name that came out was… “…Isabelle Price.” The comment stream exploded. 【HAHAHA! It’s our girl! Of course it is!】 【Ahhh, so satisfying! I can finally breathe again!】 【Look at the thief’s face! God, I love it! More! More!】 … Isabelle stood up, a picture of demure grace, and shot me a glance over her shoulder. The meaning in her eyes was unmistakable. Pure, unadulterated gloating. But I didn’t feel hurt. Instead, a wave of profound disappointment in Adrian washed over me. My analysis during the interview had cut straight to the core of Pierce Corp’s problems—many of the points were insights that Adrian and I had spent years developing together in our past life. And yet, he still chose her. I immediately stood up and turned to leave. If Pierce Corp didn’t choose me, there was no reason to stay. But just as I reached the door, Adrian’s voice stopped me. “Miss Reed. You can’t leave yet.” “I’d like to discuss the points you made during your interview in greater detail. Would you care to join me in my office?” I turned back. What I saw was Adrian’s sincere, expectant expression. And Isabelle’s face, contorted with shock and venomous hatred.

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1 Two days after I ran away from home, my brother, Jake, found me at the entrance of a hospital. He grabbed the front of my shirt, his eyes bloodshot with fury. “You run away just because I slapped you? Are you trying to kill me with worry? Is that it?!” “When are you going to stop this? I’m begging you, Nina. Can’t you just be sensible, like Sophie?” This time, I didn’t try to explain. I didn’t argue. I just followed him home in silence, ready to play the part of the perfect, sensible sister. He hated it when I cried, so I never shed another tear. He called me stingy, so I gave everything I owned to Sophie. Jake thought I was just being sullen, trying to see how long I could keep up the act. But he didn’t know. I wasn’t acting. I’d just stopped hoping. The day I left, I had gone to the hospital. That slap had deafened me in one ear. It also led to an unexpected diagnosis: leukemia. For the days I had left, all I wanted was peace. And I hoped that in my next life, I wouldn’t have a brother. … On New Year’s Eve, Jake celebrated with Sophie. He paid for it with my money. Our grandmother had left me a savings card with ten thousand dollars on it, meant for my wedding someday. A few days ago, Jake had called me selfish. So, I gave all my valuable possessions to Sophie. Including that card. My phone buzzed relentlessly with transaction notifications. First, a five-thousand-dollar charge for fireworks. Then, a lavish dinner. Finally, a nightclub. At the stroke of midnight, the remaining five hundred dollars was withdrawn. Sophie posted a story for all to see: 【Best. Brother. Ever. Don’t be jealous!】 The picture was of her hand, resting suggestively on some handsome guy’s abs. Jake had apparently hired three male dancers for her. Jake was wealthy, the owner of several companies. Spending my last dime and letting Sophie flaunt it like that… it was deliberate. He thought I was still holding a grudge and was testing my limits, waiting for me to break. But my heart was a placid lake, without a single ripple. My stomach was empty, so I went to the kitchen and made myself some noodles. After eating, I took my medication. I was about to throw the empty pill bottle away when the front door swung open. I jumped, and the bottle slipped from my grasp, rolling under the coffee table. Jake was drunk. He saw me standing there, frozen, and sneered. “Still awake? Couldn’t sleep? Too busy thinking about all the money I spent?” Before I could answer, he mumbled to himself, “Three months of this silent treatment. You’ve really got some stamina.” “Nina,” he said, his voice laced with contempt, “let’s see how long you can keep this act up.” He stumbled. I rushed to steady him, but Sophie shoved me aside. “Can’t you see he’s drunk? Stop causing trouble.” Pushed to the side, I watched as she guided Jake into his bedroom. I quietly picked up the jacket he had dropped on the floor, hung it up, and went to the kitchen to get him a glass of hot water. I was about to take it to him when Sophie emerged from his room. She looked at me with pure disgust. “What’s your problem, Nina?” “You already ran away. Why didn’t you just disappear? Why did you let him find you?” 2 I hadn’t meant for him to find me. Three months ago, Sophie had told Jake that I was a good-for-nothing, that I was messing around with some lowlife from the wrong side of the tracks. She’d even Photoshopped a picture of me, a compromising one, and showed it to him. And Jake believed her. No matter how much I pleaded, his face remained a thundercloud. He had only one thing to say to me: “You have no shame, Nina.” I was speechless, my body aching with helpless fury. In that moment, I lost control and slapped Sophie across the face. Jake returned the favor instantly. He was strong. The force of his slap sent me crashing to the floor, my ear ringing with a deafening hum. I clutched my cheek in disbelief, hot tears of betrayal finally breaking free as I bolted out the door. I’d planned to stay in a cheap motel for a few days. But the pain in my ear grew worse, and a deep ache settled into my muscles. A trip to the hospital confirmed a perforated eardrum in my left ear. And terminal leukemia. The doctor’s brow was furrowed with concern. “You’ve lost hearing in this ear permanently. If someone did this to you, you should report it.” “As for the leukemia… I would advise palliative care…” The unspoken words hung in the air: There’s no cure. I left the hospital in a daze. The people rushing past on the sidewalk all seemed to have family with them, someone to lean on. I found a quiet corner, squatted down, and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. My phone had died, and I never bothered to charge it. Two days later, Jake found me. He was livid. “Why didn’t you come home? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?!” “You were the one in the wrong! I only slapped you once! Was that really a reason to run away?” He looked exhausted, his anger mixed with a desperate plea as he grabbed my wrist. “Please, Nina. Just give me a break, will you?” In that moment, I remembered what our grandmother had said just before she died. “Dying with hatred in your heart turns you into a vengeful spirit. You won’t get a good rebirth.” She and Grandpa had been in love their whole lives, but on her deathbed, she learned he had two other children from an affair. If she could let go of a betrayal like that, what couldn’t I? So I went home with Jake and never mentioned what had happened. At first, whenever I remembered I was dying, I would cry in secret. Jake caught me twice. “Crying, always crying,” he’d snap. “I don’t know what you have to cry about. Why can’t you be more cheerful, like Sophie?” I tried to tell him I was sick, but he dismissed it as another lie, another bid for attention. After a while, I stopped trying. He hated my tears, so I stopped crying. He called me stingy, so I gave Sophie everything. When he could no longer find fault with me, he decided I was just putting on an act. It didn’t matter. I had made my peace with it. Every day from now on was just a waiting game. I was looking forward to the next life more than I was to the rest of this one. In the early hours of the morning, I lit some fireworks by myself in the yard. I didn’t want to wake Jake and Sophie, so I used sparklers, the cheap ones that cost a dollar a stick. The tiny sparks fizzled from one end to the other. I made a wish: to live peacefully through the new year. The next day, I slept in a little. When I came downstairs, Jake was sitting on the sofa. Our eyes met, and the fury in his gaze was barely contained. A lump formed in my throat. “What’s wrong?” I asked. He opened his hand. Lying in his palm was the pill bottle I had forgotten to pick up the night before. I thought he knew. My fingers curled into a fist, a tiny, foolish flicker of hope igniting within me. If he knew I had cancer, would he feel sorry for me? Would he finally be a little kinder? But the words that came out of his mouth were cold as ice. “Nina. You’re on drugs.” 3 I froze, and for a second, I thought my other ear had gone deaf too. “What drugs?” His face was grim as he twisted open the cap and emptied the contents onto the coffee table. A small pile of white powder. My eyes widened in horror. “Sophie told me, but I didn’t want to believe it. Not only is your life a mess, but you’re breaking the law now, too!” Jake was seething, a vein throbbing in his temple. “No wonder you’ve been acting so strange these past few months! This is what you’ve been doing!” A chilling cold spread through me. “That’s my leukemia medication,” I explained frantically. “I didn’t put that powder in there! I don’t know anything about it…” “Still lying!” Jake cut me off, his eyes like shards of glass. “Is this your pill bottle or not?” “Yes, but—” “No buts!” His anger finally boiled over. He strode toward me and, with a sharp crack, slapped me across the face again. My left ear exploded with the same deafening ringing as before. He was so enraged, his voice trembled. “What are you trying to do, Nina? Are you trying to drive me to my grave?” “I forgave you for your… personal life. And now this? Do you need to spend a few years in jail to finally straighten up?” Despite everything, tears streamed down my face. I clutched my throbbing ear, my voice a raw whisper. “Sophie must have swapped the pills. We can go to the hospital, they can test me! They’ll see there’s nothing in my system!” “If you go to a hospital, you’re finished!” he snarled, jabbing a finger toward my face, his own eyes welling up with tears of frustration. “I don’t know why I have a sister like you. You’ve disappointed me so much, Nina.” “From now on, you’re not going anywhere. You won’t eat or drink anything until I’ve checked it first!” I was utterly defenseless, a cold sweat breaking out on my back. I grabbed his arm. “Jake, please, I swear I’m not! I can call the police!” I fumbled for my phone. He shoved me away, and the phone clattered to the floor, its screen shattering. He snatched it up. “Call the police? You want everyone to know my sister is a drug addict? You want them to laugh at me?” He turned the phone off and dragged me, struggling, toward the basement. “You’ll stay down here. You can come out when you’re clean.” The heavy door slammed shut in front of me with a deafening boom. Darkness enveloped me. I pounded on the door, my screams tearing from my throat. “Let me out! I didn’t do it!” Through the thick wood, Jake’s voice was muffled and distant. “Stop lying. I know what you are.” “Nina, I’m doing this to save you!” 4 And so, I was imprisoned. The basement was dim and gray, a prison cell meant to hold me. I don’t know how much time passed before Sophie came down with a plate of food. The sight of her made me snap. I lunged at her. “Why are you doing this to me? Haven’t you hurt me enough?!” She caught my wrist with surprising ease, a vicious light in her eyes. “Why did you come back with him? You were gone. You should have stayed gone.” “This family has no place for you anymore, Nina. I wanted to make sure you understood that.” I was shaking with a rage so profound I couldn’t speak. She, however, was perfectly calm. “It was just flour in the bottle, you know. I said a few words, and just like last time, he believed me completely.” “Admit it. In his heart, I’m the one who matters more.” “I’ve been so patient with you! These last three months have been hell for me too, you know! What is it you really want?” I screamed, my voice raw. She grabbed a handful of my hair, a strange, twisted smile on her face. “What do I want? I just want Jake to hate you a little more before you die.” “You have leukemia, don’t you, Nina?” she whispered, her voice a soft caress, like a demon’s murmur in my ear. “It must hurt so much… without your medicine.” A wave of goosebumps washed over my skin. “You’re insane, Sophie. You’re a complete lunatic!” At that, her smile vanished. In one swift, unexpected motion, she kicked me hard, sending me sprawling into a corner. The pain, the fury, the emotions I had suppressed for three long months—it all came rushing out. I scrambled to my feet and threw myself at her. My slaps landed on her face. She didn’t dodge, just took the hits and then started screaming. “Jake! Help! Nina’s having a withdrawal! She’s going crazy!” I didn’t even register her words. All I knew was that if I didn’t let out this boiling rage, I would suffocate. I hit her and kicked her with every ounce of strength I had, each blow harder than the last. Suddenly, the basement door flew open. Jake stood there, his face instantly turning to stone as he took in the scene. Sophie was sobbing. “Jake, her addiction is making her violent! She tried to make me go buy her drugs, and when I refused, she attacked me!” “I did not!” I roared, but I didn’t stop hitting her. She shrieked in pain. In the next second, Jake’s hand clamped around my wrist, pulling me off her. “Nina, stop this madness!” He held me by the shoulders, his eyes a storm of anger and worry. He gritted his teeth, his voice a low growl of disappointment. “I’m trying to help you, Nina! Can’t you just stop making things harder for everyone?” My head was buzzing, a chaotic mess of static. In my emotional breakdown, only one coherent thought remained. “I’m not on drugs!” I screamed. Jake’s lips tightened, his own anger rising to meet mine. “Of course not. Like you’d ever admit it.” “You’re going to stay down here, and you’re going to be good. When you’re better, I’ll let you out.” He produced a length of rope from somewhere and tied me to a chair. Then, he helped Sophie to her feet and walked out without a backward glance. As the door closed, I could still hear his concerned voice. “Sophie, are you okay? Is your face alright? I’ve spoiled Nina rotten, don’t be mad at her.” “Let me get some ointment for you…” I dug my nails into my palms until they broke the skin. I struggled against the ropes, and the chair tipped over, sending me crashing to the floor. The rope was so tight it cut into my flesh. But that pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I thought if I let everything go, Jake might finally be a little kinder to me. But with just a few words from Sophie, he believed the worst. A tear splashed onto the concrete floor. I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice, a creeping numbness and a deep, throbbing ache spreading through my body. I couldn’t even get up. I just lay there on the cold ground, a broken heap. From that day on, I remained a prisoner in the basement. Without my painkillers, the agony grew worse with each passing day. Sophie brought me food sporadically, always with a side of taunts and insults. I would just curl into a ball on the floor, too weak to even respond. My mind began to drift. I couldn’t tell the difference between dreams and reality. Sometimes, it felt like my soul was floating outside my body, watching myself lie there in misery. I knew I didn’t have much time left. One day, I dreamt of my mother. It was the first time I had seen her in a dream since she passed away. She held me like she did when I was a child, stroking my hair gently. I felt like I was finally home, safe in her arms. I cried and told her how Jake had hurt me. My mother’s eyes filled with tears. “That can’t be, my sweet Nina. Your brother has always loved you more than anyone.” I told her everything—how he favored Sophie, how he had hit me. She listened quietly, her expression growing sadder and sadder, before finally cupping my face in her hands. “Nina, my poor child, you’ve suffered so much…” SPLASH! I never heard the rest of what she said. A bucket of ice-cold water shocked me awake. I opened my eyes. My mother wasn’t there. Only Jake, holding the empty bucket, his face a grim mask.

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1 A wave of heatstroke left me dizzy and seeing spots. I quickly messaged the company-wide chat to call in sick. The moment I hit send, my colleagues blew up the chat. “Heatstroke? It’s snowing so hard out there I’m about to freeze to death! What are you talking about?” “Ava, we’re all pulling overtime this weekend, and you’re faking sick to slack off? Have you no shame?” Stunned, I glanced out the window. The sun was blazing in a vast, cloudless sky. There wasn’t a hint of snow. I thought they were pulling my leg, but a moment later, a video call came through from my boss, Mr. Davis. He was in his office, and behind him, the floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a world buried in white. There were no signs of a digital filter or a fake background. Behind me? Nothing but clear skies. “Well, well, Ava! I was wondering how you could get heatstroke in a blizzard. Turns out you’re faking it to take a trip somewhere else! I’m officially informing you that you have not passed your internship. You’re fired!” It was then I realized something was terribly, fundamentally wrong. I scrambled out of bed, determined to get to the office and see for myself. I was in no condition to drive, so I had to hail a cab. But I never saw a single snowflake before a runaway truck slammed into me, and everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my bed, my finger hovering over the send button. This time, I suspected my colleagues were deliberately messing with me. I played it smart. I typed into the group chat: “What’s the weather like today?” Mr. Davis immediately tagged everyone: “@all Heavy snow is making the roads slippery and visibility is low. Everyone be careful on your way in…” … How was this possible? If my boss and colleagues wanted to fire me, wouldn’t they wait until after I called in sick to spring their trap? I was perfectly fine at the company dinner last night. They couldn’t have known I’d wake up sick with heatstroke. My already aching body felt worse as I stared at the brilliant sunshine outside. “Got it. Thanks for the heads-up, Mr. Davis. Made it to the office safely.” “Stuck in traffic. Had to park and walk. This snow is insane, probably another half hour for me.” “Glad I took the subway today…” Messages poured in from my colleagues. One of them even posted a photo. It was Meadowbrook Park, a place I often visited, now completely blanketed in snow. Fat, heavy flakes danced in the grim, gray sky. But on my way to the office in my previous life… there was no snow. None at all. As I was trying to make sense of it, Mr. Davis tagged me in the chat. “Ava, everyone from your department is here. What’s your ETA?” “The whole company is working overtime for that big project you landed. Get here in the next ten minutes, and I’ll waive the late penalty this time.” The weekend overtime was, indeed, because I had secured a major deal for the company. If I had been able to power through it, I wouldn’t have tried to call in sick in the first place. The fresh, terrifying memory of being killed in a car crash made me even more hesitant to go to the office. But if I used heatstroke as an excuse again, I’d definitely be fired. My mom’s medical bills depended on the bonus from this deal. I had to keep this job. I ignored the messages for a moment, shaking my head to clear the chaotic thoughts. I was absolutely certain: it was not snowing in my city. If I could just find concrete proof, they couldn’t use this ridiculous excuse to fire me. I quickly opened the weather app on my phone and my jaw dropped. The app showed my location was under a blizzard warning. This was insane. No matter how powerful my boss was, he couldn’t fake the data on a national weather app, could he? But I swear, I hadn’t seen a single snowflake. Just then, my phone rang. It was Mr. Davis. I had to answer. I put on my groggiest, just-woke-up voice. “Why do you sound so hoarse, Ava? Are you not feeling well?” I couldn’t give him an excuse to fire me. Thinking fast, I admitted, “Mr. Davis, I’m sick. I feel awful. I don’t think I can make it to the office right now.” “That bad? You must have caught a chill. Didn’t bundle up enough for this weather.” “Well, just rest up at home then. But stay online so the team can reach you. We can’t have this project getting delayed.” His tone was surprisingly gentle, not confrontational at all. That just made me more confused. A few minutes later, the HR manager tagged me in the chat. “Mr. Davis told me you’re sick, so I’ve put in a leave request for you. Ava, I just need a doctor’s note and a quick video for the records, and I can process the paid sick leave.” 2 I frowned, my brow furrowing in frustration. I had heatstroke. There was no way I could get to a hospital in this state. Where was I supposed to get a doctor’s note? After a moment’s thought, I decided to send a selfie video to the group chat. “I woke up feeling like this. Haven’t even had a chance to get to a doctor yet.” My face was frighteningly pale. I looked every bit the part of a sick person. Surely that would be enough. “That’s not going to work.” “Ava, the doctor’s note can come later, but the video needs to show something that confirms your location.” “I remember you live in the same apartment complex as I do. There’s that big landscaped planter right below your building. Can you retake the video from your balcony? Make sure to get both you and the planter in the shot.” I immediately dragged myself out of bed and went to the balcony to film. But the moment the sunlight hit my skin, something felt terribly wrong. My side of the world was bright and scorching hot. If I sent a video of this, and they saw there was no snow, wouldn’t they just attack me like last time? Were they doing this on purpose? Were they just looking for an excuse to get rid of me? I was already suspicious. I’ve always been healthy. Even with a sudden heatwave, getting full-blown heatstroke this quickly was strange. I even started to wonder if they had poisoned me, if this was all some elaborate scheme. The only problem was, I was just an intern. My boss could fire me for no reason at all; I’d have no legal recourse. Why would he go to such great lengths, involving the entire company, just to trick me? The HR manager messaged again. “Ava, hurry up. I’ve got other things to do.” A surge of anger went through me. “I’m not using a beauty filter,” I typed back, my fingers trembling. “Can’t you see from my face that I’m sick? Why do you need me to film anything else?” “Is it because I’m an intern? Are you all just ganging up on me?” A series of question marks appeared from HR. “What are you talking about, Ava? This is standard procedure for everyone. What would I possibly gain by targeting you?” “You just have to stand on your balcony to see the planter. It’s not difficult. Unless… you have something to hide? Is that why you’re getting so defensive?” Other colleagues started chiming in, their words dripping with sarcasm. “She’s only been here two months and already landed a huge account. Guess she thinks the rules don’t apply to her anymore.” “Heh, she was perfectly fine at dinner last night. How convenient that she’s suddenly too sick to work.” “Yeah, real nice. We’re all slaving away on a weekend, and the project lead gets to kick back and relax.” The HR manager’s tone turned sharp. “Ava, you have five minutes to send that video. Otherwise, I’m marking you as a no-show.” “And company policy is very clear. One no-show, and an intern is terminated immediately, forfeiting all salary and bonuses.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. So, they were determined to fire me. They weren’t even trying to hide it anymore. They wanted a video? Fine. I filmed it exactly as they asked and sent it. Just as I expected, the moment the video uploaded, the group chat exploded again. “Ava, we gave up our weekend for you, and you’re off on vacation, faking sick? You have no shame!” “The snow here has turned into a full-blown blizzard, and you don’t have a single flake? You’re obviously not even in the same city! Are you taking us for fools?” Mr. Davis sent a string of angry emojis. “Ava, where is your sense of responsibility?” Last time, I was a naive fool. I dragged my sick body to the office to prove my innocence and ended up dead. This time, I fought back. “You’re the ones taking me for a fool!” “You can see the planter below my building perfectly clearly. I’m in my own apartment. Or are you trying to tell me that it’s snowing over the entire city except for my specific building, where it also happens to be eighty-five degrees?” “If you want to fire me, you could at least come up with a better excuse!” “I’ve screenshotted this entire conversation. I’m posting it online. Let’s see how many of your products you sell after this!” Fueled by righteous anger, I left the group chat and immediately called my best friend for help. After I explained everything, she was silent for a few seconds before replying, “Ava… are you delirious from the fever? It is snowing. A lot. I’m snowed in at home; had to cancel my date.” It felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Had they gotten to my best friend, too? No, that was impossible. The bonus I was due to receive wasn’t nearly enough for my boss to orchestrate something this massive. 3 I quickly dialed my mom’s number. The whole world could lie to me, but not my mother. The moment she picked up, her voice was full of concern. “Ava, make sure you wear your winter coat if you go out today. The snow is coming down so hard, I can feel the chill even inside the house…” So, was the problem… me? Was the entire city covered in snow, and I was the only one who couldn’t see it? Absolutely not. In my past life, the taxi driver was wearing a thin shirt. He said there was no snow. He even gave me a look like I was crazy for asking. And yet, everything was so bizarre… I didn’t want to worry my mom, so I mumbled a few assurances and hung up. I started calling everyone else I knew to check. Every single person insisted it was snowing, including my obsessive ex-boyfriend, a creep who refused to leave me alone. I opened my social media. My feed was flooded with videos and pictures of the snow, all from people in my city. A deep, bone-chilling cold spread through my body, even as a nervous sweat broke out on my back. I couldn’t understand what was happening. “So now that her lies are exposed, she’s just playing dead?” “Haha, she really thinks we’re idiots. If you’re going to lie about being sick to go on vacation, at least check the damn weather forecast first.” “Oh, she had it all planned out. Did you see that planter? It looks exactly like the one in our complex. She must have spent a lot of time finding a place that looked so similar.” “And she threatened to expose us online! Ha! I think she’s so mad she got caught that she’s actually losing her mind.” Reading the barrage of attacks, my anger evaporated, replaced by a deep, chilling dread. No one was lying to me. In their eyes, I was the liar. My train of thought was broken when Mr. Davis posted a video in the group chat, filmed from his office. The attacks on me stopped. Because now, my boss was furious. “Ava, open your eyes and take a good hard look. Every single person in this company is at their desk, working. Except you.” “You can see the blizzard outside the window as clear as day.” “Given your irresponsible and deceitful behavior, I am officially terminating your employment. Don’t bother coming back to the office.” With a trembling hand, I tapped on the video. I knew a thing or two about digital manipulation. The video was real. There were no signs of AI or special effects. Which meant that the world I was seeing, and the world they were seeing… were not the same. “I’m sorry, Mr. Davis. I was wrong.” “I didn’t go to another city. Please, just give me one more chance. I can be at the office in half an hour!” I didn’t know what was going on. My only chance to clear up this misunderstanding and save my job was to get to the office and talk to them face-to-face. Could it be that even if I were standing right next to them, we would still see completely different realities? I fought against my pounding headache and the weakness in my limbs, rushing downstairs as fast as I could. As I stepped out of the building’s entrance, my legs gave out, and I nearly collapsed. A kind-looking older woman caught me. “Are you all right, dear?” On instinct, I asked, “Ma’am, is it snowing?” She immediately let go of me, giving me a strange look. “Honey, are you feeling okay in the head?” “I’m practically sweating through my shirt it’s so hot. Why on earth would it be snowing?” 4 My senses weren’t failing me! Even if my brain was fried from the sickness, even if I was hallucinating, my body’s physical sensations wouldn’t lie. I could feel the searing heat of the sun. My feet met solid, dry pavement, with no trace of snow. The planter downstairs was clean and dry. So where was the problem? I lived in the same complex as the HR manager and that older woman. HR was certain it was snowing, but the woman and I saw nothing… That strange, unsettling feeling crept back into my heart. My head was spinning. I had to brace myself against the wall as I made my way to the entrance of the complex, where I stumbled into a waiting taxi. “Stellar Tower, please.” The half-hour drive felt like an eternity. My brain felt swollen and sore, and I could barely stay conscious, forcing myself to endure the agony. “Almost there, miss. That’ll be twenty-five. You can pay now.” The driver’s voice pulled me back a little. I lifted my head and saw “Meadowbrook Park” through the window. In the photo my colleague sent this morning, Meadowbrook Park was completely covered in snow. But to my eyes, the four large letters of its sign were crystal clear, gleaming in the sunlight. Suddenly, a powerful sense of danger washed over me. “Driver, watch the traffic!” In my previous life, it was right around here that the runaway truck hit me. I’d left later this time, so logically, I shouldn’t encounter that same truck. But the feeling of dread in my gut was getting stronger. “Don’t you worry, miss. I’ve been driving for years.” “Besides, the roads are clear. No snow. Nothing’s going to happen.” I was about to insist when my phone rang. It was Mr. Davis. I quickly answered. “Mr. Davis, I’m almost at the office.” The driver added, “Just one more intersection.” Mr. Davis’s voice was laced with suspicion. “One intersection?” “You must be stuck in traffic, right?” I shook my head. “No, not at all. There are hardly any cars on the road.” A cold, humorless laugh came from the other end. “Ava, are you still trying to play me for a fool?” “This blizzard is getting worse by the minute! Half the city’s roads are paralyzed. The streets around the office are a parking lot. Our clients can’t even get to us. And you’re telling me there are hardly any cars?” But there weren’t! I was frantic, but I had no idea how to explain. In my panicked state, I saw it—a familiar-looking large truck, barreling straight toward us. I screamed, “Driver, floor it!”

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I was groomed to be the perfect daughter-in-law for the Vance family since I was a child. At twenty, I married Harrison Vance. At twenty-four, I gave birth to Ethan. Ethan is just like Harrison—always silent, reserved, and not particularly close to me. Every night in the past, I would bring a glass of warm milk to both father and son before they went to sleep. But on this day, Harrison accidentally knocked over his glass, and Ethan secretly poured his down the sink. Suddenly, I felt exhausted. The moment I handed the divorce papers to Harrison. He furrowed his brow, displeased, and asked, “Just because of that?” “Yes, just because of that.” 1 “What about our son? “What do you plan to do about Ethan?” Harrison returned to his usual expressionless demeanor, asking me in a strictly business tone. I sat across from him, like a client at his negotiation table, and spoke calmly. “I will give up custody of him. “The property in the East Suburbs will also be transferred to his name, as compensation in lieu of child support.” After all, the child carries the Vance surname. Compared to being with me, he and Harrison look like the real family. Harrison lowered his gaze to look at me, his emotions barely visible, as if he couldn’t understand what kind of tantrum I was throwing. “Lily,” he softened his tone, “If you can’t get over the milk incident, I apologize. You know I was drunk last night; I didn’t mean to treat you that way.” He explained patiently, persistently believing the problem was just that glass of milk. Last night, Harrison came back very late from a social engagement. I waited up half the night, only waking up when the cold air followed him through the door. I climbed off the sofa, seeing him take off his coat while rubbing his forehead in discomfort. I immediately went to the kitchen to bring him the milk I had kept warm for hours. Usually, although our marital affection wasn’t deep, we at least maintained a decent façade. But last night, I asked one extra question: “Did you see someone? The perfume on you smells familiar.” Harrison suddenly let go of the hand reaching for the milk. I didn’t react in time. The glass slipped from our touching fingertips, shattering the silence of the room under the warm lights. Harrison’s expression turned frosty, his aura radiating irritation. He looked at me coldly and warned, “Lily, you’ve crossed the line. “In the future, don’t wait up for me at night, and there’s no need to prepare milk for me anymore.” And my son, Ethan, after seeing his father’s reaction, secretly poured his milk down the drain. When I caught him, he stood at the doorway, apologizing to me with the same lack of emotion: “I’m sorry, Mom. If Dad isn’t drinking it, I don’t want to drink it either.” Perhaps in the eyes of this father and son, this was such a trivial, insignificant matter. I couldn’t, and shouldn’t, make such a big fuss over it. 2 I offered no further explanation. I signed the papers and entrusted everything to my lawyer. I chose to end this marriage with Harrison. Harrison spoke indifferently about the division of assets. I didn’t listen closely, nor did I care much. I went back to the room to organize my things. He looked down at me. “Lily, the procedures take time. You don’t need to move out in such a hurry. I can leave this house to you.” I glanced at this man who remained steady and indifferent. Calmly, I replied using words he once said to me: “It’s better to do things cleanly and efficiently, to avoid dragging things out and leaving problems behind.” Harrison said nothing more. I never thought packing would be such a difficult task to start. The house was full of trivial items, every little detail arranged by my own hands over the years. I scanned the room, finally deciding on a simple solution. I dragged my suitcase toward the door. Harrison stopped me. “Where are you going? “To your parents’ house? “I’ll have the driver take you.” “No need,” I refused, telling him, “Remember to have the housekeeper clear out the rest of my things tomorrow. I won’t be dealing with them.” After all, their family didn’t lack people to do the work. As I stepped out the main door, I thought for a moment. I turned back and spoke to Ethan, who was standing behind Harrison with that perpetual poker face. “I won’t be picking you up from kindergarten anymore. Remember not to go with strangers.” Consider it my final duty to myself. After saying that, I turned and left. I didn’t look back once at the child I had rocked in my arms night after night, patiently soothing him when he was weaning and crying. 3 I bought a plane ticket out of New York. I randomly selected a southern city, Charleston. Since I was fourteen and told I would marry into the Vance family, my freedom and choices had been restricted. Later, after marrying Harrison, he never offered to take me out unless it was for necessary social events. My most common life routine was probably waiting for the father and son to come home every night and delivering a glass of warm milk before bed. Everyone in our circle said Mrs. Vance had raised me well, that I was a wife custom-made for Harrison. Worthy of his status, capable of taking care of his life. The only flaw was: I was too perfect. Perfect to the point of being boring, appearing a bit rigid. I once heard Harrison’s friends teasing him. “Harrison, what’s it like living like an old married couple at such a young age? “Your wife is too dull; she smiles like a mannequin. “Want us to introduce you to someone interesting? “Just a few days ago, Leo met a funny girl, really hilarious, just like Victoria used to be. How about it, interested?” Victoria. Harrison’s first love. Back then, Mrs. Vance didn’t agree to them being together, and Harrison resisted in every way possible. Later, I don’t know what happened. They broke up, and Victoria went to Europe. After that, when he was twenty-four, Harrison suddenly accepted the family’s arrangement and proposed to me. Four years later, I gave birth to Ethan. Oh, right, I remember now. The familiar perfume I smelled that night was the one Victoria used to love. A custom-blended gardenia scent. 4 After finding a place to stay in Charleston. I wandered around many places. The southern humidity, the historic cobblestone streets, everything made me tireless. Unexpectedly, on the morning of the third day, I received a call from Harrison. He seemed to have just woken up, asking me in a hoarse voice, “Lily, where is that pair of ruby cufflinks you bought me at the auction last year?” I paused. “In the second drawer of the island in the walk-in closet.” I asked him, “What’s the occasion?” Harrison: “A mall ribbon-cutting ceremony.” Me: “The matching suit is the fourth one in the second row.” Harrison didn’t seem fully awake yet. The sound of him rummaging came through the phone, along with faint complaints. I listened for a while, then asked, “Did you find it?” The noise on the other side stopped, as if he finally reacted. “Found it. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you.” I hummed an acknowledgment and said, “I know.” I instructed him, “Ask the housekeeper to reorganize your room. If you can’t find things in the future, ask them. “From now on, don’t call me to trouble me anymore.” Harrison was silent for a moment, then said, “Okay.” After hanging up, I blocked his number and fell back asleep. But this sleep was restless. I had many bizarre dreams. There was the fourteen-year-old me laughing and playing with classmates on campus. There was the sunny day when I first met Harrison at fifteen. There was the pain of my father breaking my leg when I was sixteen and tried to sneak out to race cars. And… Another piercing ringtone. I woke up with a start, irritably grabbing the phone from the nightstand. It was an unfamiliar number. I pressed answer, and a polite inquiry came from the other side. “Hello, is this Ethan Vance’s mother? “I’m Ethan’s kindergarten teacher. It’s like this, today the school is holding a robotics exhibition. Ethan is participating, but he didn’t bring his project. He said you prepared it for him. Would it be convenient for you to drop it off for the child?” The teacher was very enthusiastic. My fingers gripping the phone tightened. I closed my eyes, feeling an unspeakable exhaustion. Not long ago, I was sitting in the living room, head bowed, learning frame by frame from a video blueprint to do Ethan’s manual homework for him. I just left too quickly that day; the robot was still a semi-finished product. I looked at the blazing sun already high outside the window and replied softly to the teacher, “I’m sorry, teacher. Ethan’s custody no longer belongs to me, and I won’t be responsible for him anymore. “Also… is he right next to you?” “Ah.” The teacher was quite embarrassed. “Yes, yes, Ethan is right beside me.” I sighed. “Could you please put me on speaker?” “O-okay.” “Thank you.” The noise of the phone moving came through, followed by silence. I figured Ethan could hear me. I spoke softly, “Ethan, the robot is in the toy box in your room. “You can call your dad to bring it to you, or ask anyone else to send it, but in the future, I hope you don’t call me anymore. I won’t pick you up, and I won’t help you with your crafts. You know this—I am not your mother anymore.” After finishing, I apologized to the teacher again and hung up the phone.

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After chasing Julian Blackwood for ten years, I finally got tired. I gave up on him and got together with Asher Vance, who liked me. Asher set off fireworks all night across the city and bought a private island to propose to me. But on the eve of our wedding, he disappeared. When I found him, I heard him sneer to his friends: “I only chased Harper to spite Julian.” “Now that I have her, it’s actually pretty boring.” “But I’m not satisfied yet. So, wouldn’t it be fun to leave her at the altar and humiliate her?” So, I ran away first, making him the laughingstock of the city. Later, I heard that the proud heir of the Vance family turned New York upside down, but couldn’t find his missing bride. 01 A month before the wedding, Asher Vance disappeared. I searched the entire city but couldn’t find him. On the seventh day of his disappearance, I received news that he was in Miami. I flew there overnight. On a yacht, I finally saw him. Just as I was about to knock on the door, I heard his sneer: “I only chased Harper to spite Julian.” “Now that I have her, it’s actually pretty boring.” I stopped in my tracks. He didn’t sound drunk; on the contrary, he sounded very sober. So, very cruel words came out of his mouth: “And after tasting her, I realized she’s quite dull.” Ambiguous laughter erupted around him. “As expected of Lord Vance, taking down the Ice Queen.” Asher seemed to enjoy this compliment and continued: “Don’t look at how desperate she was chasing Julian before, she’s actually frustratingly pure. It’s a pity…” “Pity what?” Asher slowly exhaled a puff of smoke: “Pity that although I was her first man, I wasn’t the first man she loved.” “She loved Julian for ten years. Who knows if she’s cleared her heart out yet?” “If it weren’t for my deadly rivalry with Julian, thinking of chasing Harper to disgust him, I wouldn’t bother playing the role of the silently guarding devoted man.” Someone teased: “You’ve been dating for three years now. Why is Lord Vance getting sentimental?” Asher looked annoyed, his voice cold: “Just because I chased her for so long, I feel unsatisfied.” Someone in the crowd continued: “I heard she’s looking for you everywhere, going crazy. You’ve been gone for so many days, is it okay?” Asher took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke with a scoff: “Running away at the altar to embarrass her, wouldn’t that be fun?” I saw no guilt, pity, or love in his expression. Only the satisfaction of revenge. Only the feeling of finally reaching this day. My fingernails dug into my palms, my heart felt like it was being pricked by needles, suffocatingly painful. I always thought Asher was my salvation and my destination. I only agreed to him after ensuring my feelings were not just gratitude, but like. That day, he was so happy he set off fireworks across the city. After three years together, he bought an island in my name to propose, filling the sky with sky lanterns. I thought this was love, romance. I didn’t expect it to be a play he put on to take revenge on Julian. So, those ten years of deep affection and help, were they all an act? 02 In a trance, I recalled some past events. At twelve, I was brought back to the Sutton family from a small southern town, uneasy, inferior, and timid. Back then, Julian only blocked bullying for me once, and I fell hopelessly in love with him. I chased him until everyone knew. But he was disgusted with me to the extreme. Later, I finally found it utterly meaningless, and I gave up on him. I saw Asher, who had been silently guarding me. That night, it was raining heavily, and he held an umbrella for me the whole time. He said: “Harper, I don’t ask you to see me. I only ask that you be free and follow your heart from now on.” How ridiculous. I swept my heart clean to welcome Asher’s arrival. When I fell step by step into his tenderness. When I started fantasizing about a sweet future with him. I didn’t expect to give him a chance to execute a lingering death on my heart. Cut by cut. Blood dripping. My nose stung, and uncontrollable pain filled my eyes. A tear fell, quickly wiped away by me. The voices inside continued, all giving him ideas: “To take revenge on a woman, naturally, you should make her fall from the height of happiness into the abyss. Isn’t that more interesting?” “Right, so Lord Vance, you should go back. Go back and accompany her to choose wedding dresses, send out invitations together. Act like nothing happened, then on the wedding day, leave her alone in humiliation. I bet Harper will go crazy.” All disgusting laughter. I suppressed the nausea, waiting for Asher’s reply. How I wanted to hear him say, “Stop joking, I love Harper.” Or, “That’s going too far for a girl.” But after a long silence. I heard Asher agree in a deep voice: “Mm, that’s a good idea. Let’s do that.” Boundless anger crushed me, almost suffocating me. I forced a pale smile, but tears fell recklessly. Asher, you want to play, right? Then I’ll play along. I also really want to see your expression on the wedding day when you find out I ran away. 03 I erased the traces of my trip to Miami and returned to the apartment I shared with Asher. I took out the gifts he gave me over the years and destroyed them one by one. Strange. I wasn’t thinking about anything, so why were there so many tears? I once heard a saying. Heartbreak is like rheumatism; on sunny days, it’s fine. But on rainy nights, it hurts to the bone. Maybe this is just my withdrawal reaction. I got up and laid the custom-made wedding dress flat on the floor. Expressionless, I used scissors to make a tear. I needed to remind myself. Feelings are like this. Once there is a crack, no matter how you mend it, it can never go back to the beginning. After cleaning everything up, I put these things in the study, which Asher rarely entered. Lying in bed sleepless, scrolling through short videos, I saw a push notification from someone I might know. The name was [The One Who Loves Ah-Yan]. Like a ghost possessing me, I clicked in. It was a record of a girl’s secret crush on a man. The latest one, her location was in Miami. Caption: [The man I’ve liked for ten years is getting married next month. I want to summon the courage to confess. Cheer for me.] In her picture, I saw a familiar hand. Wearing a wedding ring on the ring finger. That was Asher. 04 I didn’t wait for news from Asher, but received a call from Julian. “Guess who I met in Miami?” “Julian, I’m not in the mood. Stop changing numbers to call me.” Just as I was about to hang up, I heard the suppressed gloating in his voice: “Harper, why do you think Asher disappeared for so long? Don’t you know? He doesn’t want to marry you. He minds that you chased me.” “He only approached you to take revenge on me. He’s not worth entrusting your life to.” “What exactly are you trying to say?” I was getting impatient. “Harper, at least besides you liking me for ten years, there haven’t been other girls around me…” I sat up, raising my voice: “Julian, you’re doing this on purpose, right?” “Five years have passed, and you’re still so keen on sowing discord between him and me.” “But let me tell you, no matter what, this is my choice. I accept the bet and the loss, and I will never turn back.” Julian was silent for a moment, answering irrelevantly: “I sent you something. You’ll be interested.” After hanging up, I received a video. Under dim lights, a girl and Asher stood face to face. He exhaled a smoke ring, his expression as lazy as ever. Amidst cheers, the girl stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips. And he did not dodge. The video ended there. I opened the girl’s social media account. The status had been updated: [How can this not count as success?] The picture was of the two kissing. I felt nauseous, ran to the bathroom, and hugged the toilet, retching for a long time. Only then did I remember I hadn’t eaten all day. What could I throw up? At this moment, my stomach cramped with pain. I forced myself to sleep on the bed, curled up in a ball. Suddenly, I remembered when I first started dating Asher, I wanted to see the stars from the mountain top at midnight. He didn’t ask a single question, indulging my little whim, driving me to the mountain top overnight. In the cool midnight air, he held me gently, his warmth transferring to me. He leaned down and asked carefully: “The moonlight is so beautiful, Harper, can I kiss you?” We can never go back. Sleeping groggily until midnight, I heard movement in the living room. Cold sweat broke out, and I had no strength to get up. The next second, the bedroom light turned on. The blinding light made it impossible to open my eyes. I heard Asher’s anxious voice: “Harper, what’s wrong?”

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While browsing my phone, I accidentally stumbled upon a cry for help post. [I only have 5 days left to live. How should I say goodbye to my owner so she won’t be sad?] [Should I pretend to run away and die secretly outside?] The comment section was filled with dog profile pictures. [This pup thinks that’s a bad idea. Your owner will definitely feel guilty.] [Yeah, last time I accidentally got lost, my owner looked for me for half a month, even quit her job. What if your owner does the same?] [Sigh, if only we could talk to humans, we could ask them what kind of goodbye they prefer.] I was stunned. I commented: [If I were the owner, I would want to receive a ball made of my fur baby’s own fur. That way, when I miss it in the future, I can look at it, touch it, and have something to remember it by.] The original poster quickly thanked me. [That’s a good idea! But I don’t have much time left, I can’t collect naturally shed fur anymore. I can only pluck the fur from my tail.] Not long after, my dog jumped onto my bed with a fur ball of the same color as itself in its mouth. Seeing its bald tail, I froze. 1 [OP, are you seriously ill? Why do you only have 5 days left?] [If you’re in pain, just whine continuously or stop eating, humans will notice and take you to the hospital.] The original poster replied: [Not sick, I’m just too old, dying of old age.] A user with a Golden Retriever profile picture advised: [I still suggest you tell your owner, let her be mentally prepared.] [You’ve lived to such an old age, your owner must care about you very much. If you suddenly pass away, she definitely won’t be able to accept it.] The poster sent a sad emoji. [But I want Mom to shed fewer tears.] [I’m also very scared that after I die, Mom won’t be able to handle the blow and will die with me.] As soon as these words came out, the comment section exploded. [You don’t even draft your lies. Owner dying with you? I’ve lived for seven or eight years and never seen a human die for a pet.] [Exactly, you really think you’re something special. Just because humans can’t reach you here, you’re spewing nonsense.] People got more and more agitated. But the poster replied patiently one by one. [I’m not lying. Mom was very sick before. When she got sick, she would always hug me and say if I wasn’t here, she wouldn’t live either.] [So I exercised every day and ate a lot, just to live a few more years to accompany Mom. But I’m really too old.] He sent a loud crying emoji. [I really hope Mom can live happily.] 2 When I scrolled to this post, my best friend Chloe and I had just finished choosing a pet villa. Driving the car, Chloe said, “For Jumpy to choose you as its owner in this life is simply the greatest happiness for a dog.” “A pet play castle for fifteen hundred a day, and you rented it without blinking. How many dogs can live such a luxurious life?” I laughed: “Last time he saw puppies playing on TV, he was so excited. I thought, what other dogs have, my dog must have too.” “Although it does hurt my wallet a bit, two months’ salary gone.” Chloe rolled her eyes at me, “Stop pretending. Give you another chance, and you’d still pay the deposit without hesitation.” The scenery outside the window receded. She sighed: “Time flies so fast. In a blink of an eye, Jumpy is almost 14.” I nodded in agreement. But my gaze was drawn to the post where the poster asked: “Can I pretend to run away and die secretly outside? Will Mom feel better this way?” For some reason, I suddenly thought of Jumpy at home with his graying muzzle. 3 So I commented: “I don’t recommend this. The owner will be heartbroken.” “I have a dog myself. If the day comes when he passes away, I hope he can die peacefully in my arms, not die pitifully in a place I can’t see.” Pausing, I commented again. “If you really want to make your owner less sad, why not make a ball of fur from your body and give it to her? That way, when she misses you in the future, she can look at it, touch it, and have something to remember you by.” As soon as I sent this… Users with different dog avatars all sent me question marks. Only then did I notice that everyone was commenting from the perspective of small animals, while I was using a human perspective. Just as I wanted to delete and repost. The poster replied to me: [Your idea is great! I’ll go make one for my owner right now.] [But I don’t have time to collect shed fur, I can only pluck fur from my tail.] 4 He sent a string of four or five happy emojis. After replying with a “Fighting!”, I opened the dog owners’ group chat where Jumpy often played. Invited them to attend Jumpy’s birthday party in 5 days with their fur babies. Cheers erupted in the group. But my thoughts were pulled by that help post. I refreshed the post from time to time, wanting to see how the poster was doing. Maybe because I also have an old dog at home, so seeing that post, even knowing it was written by a human, I couldn’t help but project it onto my own dog. Chloe laughed out loud. “Apart from being old, where does your Jumpy look like an old dog?” “When he goes out to play, he runs faster than a two-year-old puppy. Energetic as a calf, don’t project blindly.” I was amused by her string of adjectives. Thinking, yes. Jumpy eats well and drinks well. A few days ago, when I asked him how much longer he could accompany me, he chose the 10-year card. Dogs don’t lie. Endless warmth surged in my heart. Clutching the new toy I bought for him, I wished I could fly home immediately. 5 But when I opened the door. I saw Jumpy with a fur ball in his mouth, stuffing it into my hand like offering a treasure. My whole body stiffened. Why was his tail bald? At the same time, my phone buzzed. It was the poster sending me feedback. “Sorry, my owner doesn’t seem to like the fur ball very much. Usually, when I bring her toys, she kisses and praises me, but today she is motionless, and her expression is strange too.” A Tibetan Mastiff avatar replied first: “I think you were afraid of pain and didn’t dare to pluck fur!” The poster got anxious and threw a picture. “Look at what my mom is holding, isn’t it this dog’s fur!” “I’m about to die, would I be afraid of this little pain!?” When I saw the content of the picture clearly. I could hardly breathe. In the picture, a black fur ball the size of a ping pong ball was placed in a palm. But what attracted my attention. Was the small red mole on that palm. I moved my gaze to my palm. The bald tail, the identical fur ball. If all these were coincidences. Then what about this red mole? 6 My heart felt like it was gripped by an invisible giant hand. I immediately clicked on the poster’s homepage. “Bit an old man today, Mom was very angry, but I only bit him because I saw him taking pictures up Mom’s skirt with his phone. Mom blamed me wrongly.” “Grandma and Grandpa passed away. Although they treated Mom very badly, Mom is still very sad, crying secretly every night. When I find out, she cries even louder, saying she only has me left, asking me to accompany her forever. But I’m also very old, sigh…” Reading this. I reflexively looked at the date. June 28, 2024. My parents died in a car accident that month. I went to check the date of biting someone. October 2, 2024. And last October, Jumpy indeed bit someone. Paid 2000 dollars in compensation. My hands trembled uncontrollably. Before further verification. The poster sent me a private message proactively. “Hello, my name is Jumpy.” “Are you a human?” Seemingly afraid I would find it rude. He added another sentence. “Our forum is for dogs only. Usually, dogs are talking, but I feel the way you talk is different from them.” “So I took the liberty to ask you.” “If it’s inconvenient, you don’t have to reply.” My eyes were sore. I asked with trembling hands: “Why are you called Jumpy?” The other side said: “Because when Mom picked me up, I had a broken leg. She hoped that even with only three legs, I could still jump around lively.” Tears smashed onto the screen instantly. Unwilling to give up, I issued another command. “Go pick up your favorite toy for your mom right now.” After sending this sentence. I immediately looked at Jumpy. I saw him tilt his head in thought first. Then, he turned and ran towards his favorite little yellow duck plushie. Watching him run towards me with a smile on his face despite missing a hind leg. The last nerve supporting me collapsed completely.

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