1 On my way home from work, I stopped by the local market to pick up everything I needed. When I got home, I followed a recipe online and made myself a batch of crispy pork bites. Just as I ladled the last golden-brown piece into a bowl, I told my fiancé we were through. It felt like only seconds passed before both sets of our parents descended on my apartment, surrounding me like a tribunal. “Was it really necessary?” As they all stared at me, bewildered, I popped the last piece of pork into my mouth, chewed slowly, and swallowed. “Yes,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “It was.” … When I was a little girl, I asked my parents if they could make me crispy pork bites. They said it was too much trouble. A few years later, my mom made a big batch for my newborn sister. And then my dad made some for my cousin when my aunt brought him over. When I asked my fiancé, Kevin, if he would make them for me, he gave me the same excuse. It’s too much trouble. Different people, different times, but the exact same reason. So, I bought the ingredients myself. I followed the steps, one by one. I heated the oil, coated the pork, and fried each piece until it was perfect. And as I set the finished dish on the table, I realized the truth. It wasn’t hard at all. But for a dish this simple, not a single one of them had ever been willing to make it for me. “Oh, Joy, dear.” Kevin’s mother sat beside me, taking my hand in her soft, warm ones. “Let me apologize on Kevin’s behalf. From now on, whenever you two come over, I’ll make them for you every single day, how does that sound?” I gently pulled my hand away, offering a faint smile. “That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Gable.” It wouldn’t be necessary ever again. Now, I knew how to make them myself. “Well then,” his father boomed, ever the problem-solver. “How about I take Kevin to the store right now? We’ll get the best pork and he can make a fresh batch for you, right away!” Before I could protest, the group was in motion, practically dragging a stunned Kevin out the door. Only my mother stayed behind with me. The moment the door clicked shut, her face hardened. “Joy, you’re not a child anymore. Why are you throwing a tantrum?” “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’re engaged! Breaking up over something so petty? Are you serious?” “Why is it,” she sighed, her voice laced with disappointment, “that the older you get, the less obedient you become?” That last word, obedient, made my head swim. She was right. I used to be the most obedient child. My parents raised me like a boy, so I wore my cousins’ hand-me-down clothes. For ten dollars, they had my long hair chopped off, leaving me with a patchy, scalp-hugging buzz cut. They said I was easy on my shoes, so I wore the same pair for months, until the other kids started complaining about a strange smell in the classroom. Everyone said I was smart, so I gave up my guaranteed spot at the top high school to my underachieving cousin and took the entrance exam myself. They said there was a future in medicine, so I let them fill out my college applications. After graduation, they said it was time to get married, so I went on one blind date after another until they approved of someone. Growing up, every adult who met me told my parents how lucky they were. And my parents would puff up with pride, boasting to anyone who would listen that I was the easiest, most obedient child they could have ever asked for. But. The hand-me-down clothes were always too big; I was constantly tripping on the hems. Of that ten dollars for my hair, all I ever saw was a single bread roll. The smell from my worn-out shoes made me so ashamed that I barely spoke a word in class. And the medical degree they chose for me? It wasn’t the kind that came with a prescription pad. “Mom, I really don’t want to—” SLAP. A sharp sting bloomed across my cheek. “What do you want? Huh?!” Her voice was a shard of glass in my ear. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me to the floor. “I’m asking you, what is it you think you’re trying to do?” She beat me with her purse, a frantic, relentless rhythm of thuds against my back and shoulders. “Do you have any idea how humiliated I was today?!” “Crispy pork bites! Are you that desperate for a snack?” “If word of this gets out, what do you think people will say about me?” “You may not have any shame, but I do!” I curled into a ball on the floor, protecting my head with my arms, biting my lip to keep from crying out. When she finally tired herself out, she stopped. “When they get back,” she panted, looming over me, “you will pull yourself together. You will apologize. And when they offer you a way out, you will take it. Do you understand me?” Her phone buzzed. After a quick glance, she grabbed my shirt and hauled me to my feet, shoving me toward the bathroom. “Go wash your face. Now.” The pain made me move slowly, so she gave me one last violent push. “Hurry up!” The door slammed shut behind me with a deafening bang. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, combing my hair back into place with my fingers and smoothing out my clothes. I wet a washcloth to wipe my face, but instead, I buried my face in the damp cloth and sobbed, muffling the sounds so no one would hear. “Are you done yet? They’re back.” She cracked the door open, her voice an impatient hiss, then slammed it shut again. A moment later, the doorbell rang. I heard her greet them with a laugh that was far too bright. “You’re back! Oh, Robert, Carol, I am so sorry about today! You really had to see us at our worst.” “And you bought so much food! Frank, you should have stopped them, letting our dear friends spend so much!” Steeling myself, I finally pushed the bathroom door open. My father was waiting for me in the hall. He handed me a small paper bag. “Your mother asked me to get this. She said you have cramps.” He sighed, his eyes filled with a familiar weariness. “She hit you again, didn’t she?” “She just has a short fuse. Deep down, she’s only thinking of what’s best for you. Don’t hold it against her.” “But Dad, I—” He cut me off with a wave of his hand. “You know how it is. I’ve never had a say in anything concerning you.” So you can’t even listen to me finish a single sentence? I clutched the bag of painkillers, a bitter mix of emotions churning in my stomach. When I walked into the living room, Kevin’s parents nudged him forward. He came over and gently led me to the sofa. A plate of freshly cut fruit sat on the coffee table. “Just wait here for a little bit,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ll have the pork bites ready in no time.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen before I could refuse. “I don’t want them anymore,” I said, my voice just loud enough to carry. Every head in the room turned to me. Then, they all broke into knowing, indulgent smiles. “Looks like Joy is still a little upset! You’d better work your magic, son!” Kevin’s dad clapped him on the shoulder and followed him into the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll help. We’ll get this done fast.” My mother exchanged a look with my father. “Don’t mind her,” she said with a dismissive wave. “She’s always been one for dramatic statements.” “You’re doing the right thing, Joy!” Kevin’s mom, Carol, patted my shoulder, pretending to be on my side. “Don’t forgive him so easily. You should at least wait until the pork is on the table… and we’ve all had a chance to eat some, right?” “You see how wonderful your future in-laws are?” my mom chimed in, seamlessly picking up the thread. “You and Kevin are going to have a wonderful life together!” The two of them began to chat idly. I stared down at my hands, digging my nails into my palms. When the fresh batch of crispy pork bites was finally placed on the table, a pair of chopsticks was pressed into my hand. Five pairs of eyes were fixed on me. The room was silent. But in my head, a chorus of voices chanted: Eat it. Just eat it, and this will all be over. Eat it. Stop throwing a tantrum. Eat it. Go back to being our good, obedient girl. My hand trembled as I lifted the chopsticks and picked up a piece of pork. I raised it, smelling the savory aroma. I brought it to my lips, my mouth opening slightly. Then, I turned and held it out to Kevin. “You have it.” He carefully took a bite, chewing slowly. “There we go!” Carol clapped her hands in delight, draping Kevin’s arm over my shoulder. “See? Every couple argues. The important thing is to make up!” A wave of relief washed over the room. Satisfied smiles bloomed on everyone’s faces. Everyone but me. But no one cared if I was smiling. It didn’t matter. Because in the end, I would always do what they wanted. And just like that, the incident was over. That’s what they all thought. But I knew. This wasn’t the end. It was the beginning. After dinner, our parents ushered us out the door, insisting we go for a walk to “talk things through.” But what was there to talk about? We met on a setup. Our parents decided we were a good match. So we got engaged. Our conversations were a rotation of “Have you eaten?” and “Sleep well.” “Let me take a picture of you,” he said suddenly as we walked along the river. I waved him off, but he was already holding up his phone. “My mom always says, when a girl says no, she really means yes.” I just stared at him. He had the grace to look a little sheepish. “And my dad said that’s how he won my mom over.” “Well,” I said, my voice flat and cold, “not every woman in the world is your mother.” I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there. The second I opened the door to my apartment, a hand swung out and struck my face. “You ungrateful brat!” my mother snarled, her eyes blazing. “They came all this way for you, and this is how you repay them? Do you know how heartbroken Carol was when she heard what you said?” “She’s not my mother,” I mumbled, my head down, my fists clenched at my sides. “Don’t you dare get smart with me!” she shrieked, her face turning a deep shade of red. “Now I have to go clean up your mess again! Are you happy now?” “Do I really have to marry him?” I finally looked up at her, a lifetime of resentment welling in my eyes. “He doesn’t even love me. He wouldn’t even make me a simple plate of crispy pork bites.” “He didn’t make them for you?” She pointed a trembling finger at the leftover pork on the table, then slammed her hand down with a loud bang. “His entire family came here to cook for you, and you’re still not satisfied?” But this was a meal born from a threat. If I hadn’t said I was leaving, I would have never seen it. Besides, I hadn’t eaten a single piece. “Who do you think you are, Wednesday? The Queen of England?” “Take a good look at yourself! You’re thirty, you’re plain, you’re overweight! You should be grateful anyone is interested in you at all!” She yanked at my clothes, her words a torrent of insults punctuated by blows. My birth name was Wednesday. I was the third of the cousins, and my parents couldn’t be bothered to come up with anything else. So, Wednesday I was. Growing up, on that particular day of the week, kids would always shout my name. “Wednesday! Hey, Wednesday!” The moment I turned my head, they would erupt in cruel, mocking laughter. “We weren’t talking to you. We were talking about the day.” But if I ignored them, they’d throw rocks or clumps of dirt at me. “Are you deaf? I was calling you!” When I went home and told my parents, they’d just say, “They’re only joking, honey. Don’t be so sensitive.” But it wasn’t funny. It was never funny. The first chance I got as an adult, I changed it. Joy. As in, freedom. The freedom I craved. My parents scoffed when they heard it. They said I was being dramatic and overly sensitive, and they always pronounced it with a strange, mocking tone. But over time, they stopped calling me Wednesday. And I finally shed the name that had been the source of my shame for my entire youth. Until tonight. “My name is Joy,” I said through the pain. That only made her angrier. “Feeling defiant today, are we?” She grabbed a plastic coat hanger and started hitting me with it, each strike harder than the last. “Let me tell you something. To me, you’re Wednesday. You always have been, and you always will be!” The hanger left angry red welts on my arms, which were already turning a bruised purple. It wasn’t until the hanger snapped across my face that my dad finally stepped in. “Stop it! Don’t hit her face. What will people say if they see?” “This is all your fault! You spoiled her!” She threw him off, flinging the broken hanger to the floor where it clattered against my foot. She grabbed her purse and stormed out, kicking the door on her way. My dad came over and picked up the pieces of the hanger. “Don’t be too hard on your mother,” he said softly. “What you said really hurt Carol’s feelings. She had to grovel to apologize. I’ve never seen her like that.” “She does all this for you,” he continued. “You need to be more obedient.” I turned my head away. If it was all for me, why did they never once ask what I wanted? He gently smoothed my hair. “I know you’re the most sensible one, Joy. When your mother sets up a time, you’ll go and apologize properly.” “I’m not going.” He chuckled, as if I’d told a silly joke. “There you go with the drama again. I’ll text you the details. I have to go.” But this time, I meant it. I wasn’t going. Three days later, my mother called. “Where are you? Didn’t you get my texts?” I pulled my suitcase along the smooth airport floor. “I got them,” I said calmly. “Well, get a move on! You need to be here early to apologize, you hear me?” “I told you,” I said, my voice even. “I’m not coming.” “You’re looking for another beating, aren’t you—” Her voice climbed into a shriek. I ended the call. Just as I turned to leave, I saw her.

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1 The year I turned seven, my father died in a car crash. My mother remarried her first love and I moved in with them. At our very first dinner as a new family, my stepfather, Richard, announced the new house rules. “From now on, this family operates on a pay-your-own-way basis.” I took a piece of the pot roast. For that one piece of meat, my stepfather demanded three hundred dollars from a seven-year-old. I looked at my stepsister, Ashley, who was happily devouring her own portion. “Ashley had pot roast, too. Why don’t you ask her to pay?” “Because Ashley is my own flesh and blood,” Richard answered. “I love Ashley. She has bloodline privilege.” I glanced at my mother. Richard continued, “Your mother is my wife. I love your mother, so she has privilege, too.” “As for you,” he said, his eyes cold, “we have no blood ties and no emotional foundation. I have no obligation to support you.” To enforce Richard’s pay-as-you-go system, everything in the house was given a price tag. A list was taped to the refrigerator door: Apple: $2.00/each Milk: $1.50/carton Leftovers: $0.75/portion … My mother and Ashley had privilege. They could open the fridge whenever they wanted. I wanted to, but I had no money to pay. “You have no money, yet you expect to eat?” Richard’s voice was a flat line. I mumbled, unsure of what to do. He feigned generosity. “Fine. We’ll put it on your tab for now. You can sign a personal loan agreement with your mother and me.” “Interest will be calculated at a high-risk rate, 0.1% daily, compounded until you turn eighteen. Once you’re an adult and earning money, you can pay us back.” And so it began. I had to pay for every watt of electricity I used. Every grain of rice I ate. I even had to chip in for the vacations my parents took Ashley on… Because of the family’s pay-as-you-go system, I was over eighty thousand dollars in debt before I was even an adult. To minimize my debt, I lived as frugally as possible. I’d even dig through the trash for Ashley’s old, discarded clothes and shoes. Sometimes, I’d beg for food on the streets. But no matter how thrifty I was, I couldn’t avoid everything. That winter, the flu was raging. I got sick. A fever. The thermometer read 103.6 degrees. My body felt like a hot coal. As expected, the first thing my parents did was pull out their ledger and a calculator. After a flurry of calculations, they printed out a new loan contract. “Chloe, we can take you to the hospital. But you need to understand, medical costs are a bottomless pit these days. Registration, blood tests, an IV drip… that’s a thousand bucks, easy.” “And as we’ve agreed, Chloe, household expenses are shared. But personal, unexpected costs, like you getting sick, are your own responsibility.” But I couldn’t pay. So, I signed another loan agreement. … In the end, they didn’t take me to the hospital. Richard said it was too expensive. A waste of resources. Instead, he went to the drugstore downstairs and bought a box of fever reducers and a box of antibiotics. Total cost: five dollars. He walked into my room holding the medicine, my mother trailing behind him. “Chloe, you may not be my flesh and blood, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I paid for this medicine out of my own pocket. With a five-dollar delivery fee, that comes to ten dollars total.” He placed the medicine on my nightstand, then handed me a pen and a piece of paper. “Sign the loan contract first. Once you sign, you can have the medicine.” I was so feverish I could barely open my eyes. “Mom…” I croaked. She turned her face away, muttering, “Just sign it, Chloe. Sign it, take the medicine, and you’ll be fine.” Fighting the waves of sickness, my hand trembled as I scrawled my name on the contract. The second my signature was complete, Ashley’s voice cried out from the kitchen. “Daddy! Mommy! I cut my finger! It hurts so much!” My mother shot up like a spring and sprinted to Ashley in the kitchen. Her voice was laced with panic and pain. “What’s wrong, my sweet baby?” “Oh my god, let Mommy see! Is it bleeding? Honey, let’s go! We have to get her to the hospital for stitches and a tetanus shot! A cut like this can get infected, we can’t take any chances!” Listening to the sound of the car engine starting outside, I lay in bed, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t understand. Why did my 103-degree fever only warrant a ten-dollar box of pills, and only after signing a loan agreement? But a tiny cut on Ashley’s finger got her a free ride to the hospital for a tetanus shot? Ashley, the princess of the household, saw my confusion. She grinned at me. “Because I’m his flesh and blood. Daddy loves me.” “And your mom loves my dad. So by extension, she loves me most of all!” 2 Because Ashley was his flesh and blood, she received the love of both my stepfather and the mother who adored him. I was only my mother’s flesh and blood. So, as I grew older, all I received was a snowballing mountain of debt. I had no time for a social life at school. Even with college entrance exams approaching, I spent my lunch breaks collecting cans, running errands for classmates, and even copying out homework for struggling students in a corner of the playground. Five bucks for a thousand words. But I never expected Ashley to corner me while I was collecting plastic bottles, her friends flanking her. She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. It was the loan agreement I had just signed with my stepfather two days ago. It detailed my request for an advance to buy next month’s supply of pads. “See? I wasn’t lying! It’s all true. Chloe here has to borrow money and sign an IOU just to buy pads.” “My stepsister is barely a teenager and she’s already eighty-five thousand dollars in debt to my family.” “She’s a total leech. Already drowning in debt before she’s even earned a dime. Who knows how she’s wasting money behind our backs.” “It’s all true! If any of you hang out with her, watch your wallets. She’ll probably steal from you!” So, I was just gossip for her and her friends. The other students started whispering. My face burned with shame. Pads. Having something so private broadcasted to a crowd of people… I wished the ground would swallow me whole. My eyes welled with tears as I tried to snatch the paper back. Ashley held it high above her head. Later, she didn’t just show it to the boys, she posted it on the school’s public notice board. “Everyone, come and see the real face of our top-ranked student! What’s the point of getting good grades? She’s a teenager with $85,730 in debt! Rotten to the core!” That afternoon, I became the school’s laughingstock. “The girl who buys pads on credit” became my nickname. My teacher called both me and Ashley into her office. My homeroom teacher was a responsible woman. She furiously reprimanded Ashley for her disrespectful behavior, then called our parents. Richard and my mother both came. Richard was dressed in a sharp suit, looking every bit the cultured gentleman. He apologized to the teacher the moment he walked in. But when the teacher tactfully mentioned the importance of “protecting a young girl’s privacy” and “providing basic necessities,” Richard pushed up his glasses and smiled. “Ma’am, you’ve misunderstood. This is our family’s approach to financial literacy. Chloe has always lacked a sense of money. The pay-as-you-go system, the personal loan contracts… these are all tools I’m using to cultivate her survival skills and independence.” The teacher was left speechless. After we left the office and rounded an empty corner of the hallway, the smiles vanished from my parents’ faces. Richard checked the time on his phone, and my mother immediately understood. She began to scold me. “Chloe, because you caused trouble at school, your father and I had to take an hour off work to deal with it. Your father’s hourly rate is two hundred dollars, mine is one hundred. Add twenty-five for gas, and that’s a total of three hundred and twenty-five dollars.” My mother scribbled down the numbers. “This goes on your tab. You are responsible for the additional cost of our time.” And so, my debt grew larger. On the way home, Ashley happily held my parents’ hands. I trailed behind, alone. Suddenly, Ashley turned around and stuck her tongue out at me with a triumphant grin. 3 At the dinner table that evening, my mother suddenly covered her mouth, let out a retching sound, and ran to the bathroom. Richard froze for a second. Then his eyes lit up, and he dropped his chopsticks. “Sophia!” he rushed to the bathroom door, knocking. “What’s wrong? Are you…?” The suspicion was confirmed at the hospital. My mother, at forty-two, was pregnant. She was pregnant with Richard’s own flesh and blood. She caressed her stomach, a blissful, rosy glow on her face. The arrival of their love child put both of them in a fantastic mood. Richard turned to me. “To ensure the best possible environment for the new family member, we need to reallocate some household resources.” “So, Chloe, your room can be turned into a nursery for your future baby brother.” My heart sank. “Then… where will I live?” Richard tapped the table and pointed towards the balcony. “Your mother and I discussed it. We can enclose that corner of the balcony and put a folding bed there for you.” The balcony? It was drafty in the winter and baked in the summer, with no proper shelter. When I started to cry and protest, my parents’ stance remained firm. Their words, laced with demands for me to be more considerate, were non-negotiable. “With a new baby, we have to tighten our belts. Besides, you’re about to finish your college exams, Chloe. You’re perfectly capable of getting a job like an adult.” “Starting next year, after your exams, you will give up your spot in college and get a job to pay back your debt to us.” No! I had to go to college! My teacher said it was my only way out. I argued, pleading my case. But my mother, her face contorted with anger, slapped me across the face. My parents pulled out the black ledger and a thick stack of loan agreements bearing my name, throwing them on the table in front of me. “Let’s get one thing straight. You are not his flesh and blood. We have no obligation to raise you, especially since you’ve been racking up debt under our system for years! You are a serious loss-making project!” I held my stinging cheek, my gaze fixed on my mother, who was lost in the bliss of her pregnancy. Mom. Don’t you remember? I’m not his flesh and blood. But I am yours. She just looked down, stroking her belly, basking in the happiness of carrying Richard’s child. After a long moment, my resentful stare made her flinch. Finally, as if she’d made a decision, she looked up at me. “Chloe, don’t blame us. Raising a child is expensive. We have to start saving for your brother’s formula and education fund before he’s even born. You’re old enough now. You should be sensible and help the family out. Besides, you already owe us a huge amount of money…” My eyes burned. I stared at my mother in disbelief. I finally understood. In this family, I was nothing more than an outsider in debt. I turned and began to pack my things in silence. 4 My mother’s child, the one that was both hers and Richard’s, wasn’t even born yet. But to show how important this child was, they decided to prepare the nursery in advance. And so, they moved me to the balcony ahead of schedule. On my first night there, my fever returned. It was June, the rainy season. The balcony had windows, but they were leaky, letting in drafts and rain. It felt like a damp, cold cellar. I had to sleep wrapped in two thick blankets. One night, I woke up thirsty and went to the living room for a glass of hot water. On the coffee table sat a half-eaten box of cherries. They were huge, deep crimson, and smelled intoxicatingly sweet. Next to them was a note from Richard. [For my dear wife. These are imported cherries, good for your health. You’re carrying our child, and this is for our baby’s vitamins. Twenty-five dollars a pound. Remember not to let any outsiders eat them.] The outsider, of course, was me. I stared at the cherries, a cold laugh building inside me. Just then, a moan came from the master bedroom. “Water… get me some water…” Richard was on a business trip. Ashley, with exams around the corner, was still out partying at a friend’s house and had decided to stay the night. They were both gone. I pushed open the bedroom door. My pregnant mother was lying in bed, her face pale, her forehead slick with sweat. Because of her age, her pregnancy symptoms were severe. She was having a leg cramp in the middle of the night. She was thirsty and in pain. When she saw it was me, she ordered me around as if it were her right. “Chloe, are you deaf? I’ve been calling for ages. Can’t you see how much pain I’m in? Come here and rub my leg, it’s cramping. It hurts like hell.” I stood by the bed in silence. “Mom, it’s three in the morning.” I looked at her, my voice devoid of warmth. “That’s outside of normal working hours. According to labor laws, night-shift nursing services are charged at double the rate.”

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My moral compass is so straight, it’s bent back on itself. So, of course, I got bound to a “Be a Mom to the Villain” System. First time I was dropped into a story, the System made me a stepmom. My mission: use love to redeem the world-destroying villain and heal his childhood trauma. Faced with the weak, eight-year-old villain, I didn’t hesitate. I sent him to meet his maker. Before I could even wipe the blood off my hands, the kind-hearted, eight-year-old heroine ran up to accuse me. Knowing she’d one day sacrifice her entire village to save some man, I sent her on her way to the afterlife, too. Just as I was about to go after the so-called hero—the one who spouted righteousness while plaguing the common folk—the System shrieked and threw me into a romance novel. [This time, you’re the villain’s birth mother. Let’s see you lay a hand on him now.] [You cannot kill the villain, or you will be erased!] The moment the System finished speaking, I kicked the villain’s father straight into the ocean. If I can’t kill the villain, I’ll just kill his dad. As long as it saves people, I’m fine with dying. 1 Arthur Vance was screaming for help in the ocean. The System was screaming in my head. [Jocelyn, are you insane?! Your mission is to redeem the villain, so what the hell are you doing throwing his father into the sea?] I crossed my arms, my logic sound. “I’ve done my research. The reason Ethan turns evil is because of a traumatic childhood, and his father is the source of all his misery. Once his dad is gone, all the problems solve themselves.” [Solves my ass!] the System swore, losing its composure. [If Arthur is gone, his mistress is still around, and she’s pregnant! With her schemes, she’ll get her hands on Arthur’s entire estate, kick you and Ethan out, and then hire people to torture you both. It would be child’s play for her!] Oh? The mistress was that capable? Seeing the murderous glint in my eyes, the System let out a high-pitched screech. [Jocelyn, don’t you dare! This world has laws! If you kill someone, you’ll go to prison. Ethan will be bullied even more severely, and he’ll turn out even worse!] My eyes widened. “This world has laws? Why didn’t you say so sooner? You’re slowing me down.” With that, I dove into the water. Before the System could even praise my sudden enlightenment, it saw me pull a knife from my pocket and slash it across Arthur’s arm twice. Blood instantly bloomed in the water, staining the surface crimson. It didn’t take long for the scent to attract sharks. By the time the System rebooted, the sharks had picked Arthur clean, leaving only his head. The System went berserk. [How could you kill again—] “Watch your mouth. I didn’t kill anyone,” I interrupted. “Arthur asked me here to discuss our divorce. I refused, so he tried to push me into the ocean. He lost his footing and fell in himself. I tried to save him, but he accidentally bumped into the knife he was carrying in his pocket, and then the sharks came.” I wasn’t just telling this to the System. I told it to the police, too. Except when I told the police, I was crying my eyes out. “Officer, does this make me a murderer? Am I going to jail?” Arthur was a classic social climber. He clawed his way out of poverty, married the original Jocelyn—a wealthy heiress—and then took over her family’s company. He devoured their fortune, drove her parents to an early grave, and found himself a mistress. For this mistress, Arthur kicked his own wife and child out of their home. This drove the original Jocelyn into a deep depression, and she would take her frustrations out on Ethan. Arthur, egged on by his mistress, ignored Ethan’s plight completely. The mistress then hired people to bully Ethan both in and out of school. Under this triple threat of pressure, Ethan’s transformation into a villain was guaranteed. The System’s goal for me was to be a good mother to him. To shower him with endless maternal love while he suffered. But in my opinion, nothing heals the soul quite like cold, hard cash. Arthur was a well-known entrepreneur, and his sordid affairs were common knowledge. The police were already sympathetic to my situation. After reviewing the security footage, they confirmed that Arthur had indeed fallen into the water during our argument. His death was officially ruled an accident. And so, with a freshly printed death certificate in hand, I went home. The moment I pushed open the door, I heard the sharp sound of a slap. “You little bastard, how dare you talk back to me!” I looked up. Arthur’s mistress, Serena Lynn, was standing there, heavily pregnant, hitting Ethan. “Get on your knees,” she snarled. Just as Ethan, his eyes red with familiar tears, was about to kneel, I stepped forward and blocked his arm. Then, I swung my hand and delivered a hard slap across Serena’s face. Both Ethan and Serena stared at me, their eyes wide with disbelief. “Jocelyn, how dare you hit me!” Serena shrieked, recovering and lunging for my face. “Mom.” Ethan instinctively tried to step in front of me. I quickly pulled him behind me. Serena’s slap met only air. I raised my hand and slapped her again, back and forth, several times. Her voice grew louder. “Jocelyn, you must have a death wish! I’m calling Arthur right now. He won’t let you get away with this!” Seeing her like this, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t bother. Arthur’s dead.” 2 Serena froze for a few seconds. “What nonsense are you talking about? Arthur was fine this morning. If he knew you were cursing him like this, he’d be furious. You two would be in for it!” She frantically dialed Arthur’s number several times. When none of the calls went through, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “Really, don’t bother,” I repeated, offering my sincere advice. “He’s really dead.” Serena refused to believe it. “Impossible. Jocelyn, you and Arthur aren’t even divorced yet. What good does it do you to curse him?” I rolled my eyes, pulled Arthur’s death certificate from my bag, and tossed it at her. “If you don’t believe me, take a look at this.” Serena’s face turned ashen in an instant. “He… he’s really dead? What about the body?” “Eaten by sharks.” I shrugged helplessly. “Serena, I don’t know why you insisted he discuss the divorce with me at the beach. The man can’t swim. He fell in, wouldn’t wait for rescue, and, well, the sharks picked him clean.” Serena stood as if turned to stone, forgetting to breathe. A few minutes later, she made a break for the door. “You’re lying. This can’t be real. I’m going to find Arthur.” She didn’t get far before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed. “Ms. Lynn fainted from the shock,” the doctor explained. “The baby is fine. She just needs a couple of days of rest.” I let out a long sigh. Everyone assumed it was a sigh of relief that the baby was safe. Only the System knew the truth. [You’re disappointed, aren’t you? That neither of them was harmed.] I ignored it. I was busy. Arthur was dead, and he hadn’t left a will. This massive estate was waiting for me and Ethan to inherit. So I called in Arthur’s lawyer and financial advisor and had them compile a summary of his assets. I had no idea until then just how rich he was. Hundreds of properties in his name, a dozen safe deposit boxes. I was still counting the zeroes when I noticed something odd. “What’s the deal with these properties?” The lawyer glanced at the file. “Mr. Vance was in the process of transferring those properties to Ms. Lynn. The paperwork is still being processed.” “What?” I shrieked. “On what grounds does Arthur give my property to someone else?” The lawyer offered an awkward smile. I suddenly remembered the System mentioning that this world had laws. “Halt the transfer immediately.” I slammed the papers on the table. “And everything else Arthur gave to Serena Lynn, you have records of that, right? That’s all community property. As the legal wife, I’m suing her!” True to their elite status, the two of them had a complete list of Arthur’s expenditures on Serena within two hours. In just two years, Arthur had given Serena over a dozen properties. He gave her fifty thousand dollars a month in pocket money, and after she became pregnant, he moved her into the old family estate that the original Jocelyn’s parents had left her. He even made Serena the household manager. While Serena lived in luxury, she stipulated that the original Jocelyn and Ethan’s combined monthly expenses could not exceed five hundred dollars. Ethan lived in a mansion and rode in luxury cars, yet he couldn’t afford to eat. He would go hungry at school all day long. The thought made my blood boil. That bitch deserved to die. Since I couldn’t kill her, I would make her suffer everything Ethan had endured. 3 The lawyer informed me that suing Serena to reclaim the assets would be a lengthy process and suggested I try negotiating with her first. Armed with the list, I stormed into Serena’s hospital room and demanded she return the money and property. Serena, who had been weeping dramatically over Arthur’s death, instantly stopped crying. “What are you talking about? Arthur gave me these things willingly.” I stared at her coldly. “He may have been willing, but I wasn’t. Ms. Lynn, what he gave you was our community property. I have the legal right to reclaim it. If you don’t return it, I will sue you.” “Jocelyn, you’re a bully!” Serena started crying again. “I’m carrying Arthur’s child! If he were still alive, he would never let you treat us this way!” “Yes, it’s a shame…” I drew out the words. “He’s dead! He can’t protect you now. You deserve to be bullied by me.” At this point, I was done wasting my breath on her. I turned to leave, but paused at the door to issue a final warning. “You have three days. Give it all back. Otherwise, I’ll leak your entire sordid history online.” Serena had started out as an escort, climbing her way up after seducing Arthur at a party. After becoming his mistress, she wasn’t content to be a kept woman. She used his resources to start a social media company and became an influencer. Her online persona was that of a single, wealthy, independent mother, building a legion of loyal fans with her “empowered single mom by choice” brand. People had tried to expose her past before, but Arthur had always paid to have the stories buried. The original Jocelyn, being a proper lady, was too proud to let the world know about her failed marriage. So Serena had thrived. Perhaps my threat worked. The next day, Serena returned all the properties and money. Looking at it all, I couldn’t stop grinning. I knocked on Ethan’s door. “Come on, son. Mom’s treating. Let’s go get a feast.” Not only did I treat Ethan to a lavish meal, but I also bought him a whole new wardrobe. Throughout it all, though, he was quiet and withdrawn. When I asked, he admitted he was sad that his father was dead. I couldn’t help but marvel. He may be a future villain, but before his corruption, he was a genuinely kind boy. I felt compelled to comfort him by explaining that his father was the kind of man whose death was— A blessing. He should have died long ago. His death now was long overdue. The System started screaming in my head. [Stop, stop, stop! What kind of parenting is this? He’s already prone to turning evil. If you keep provoking him, you’ll just make it worse!] “Wrong,” I replied calmly in my mind. “Ethan’s twisted psyche is a direct result of having too much of a moral compass. He internalizes all his pain while his resentment builds. Teaching him to be a little more selfish, to lower his moral standards, that is true redemption.” Just then, Ethan asked softly, “What will happen to Aunt Serena and the baby in her belly?” I immediately turned to the System. “See? He’s still worrying about others. A classic sign of an overactive conscience.” Then I looked at Ethan. “That is not your brother. You don’t need to worry about strangers.” Ethan hesitated, then finally said, “Mom, Aunt Serena is going to make trouble for you.” “I’m counting on it,” I smiled, preparing him. “Ethan, for a mistress like Serena, whatever happens to her from now on, she deserves it.” Two days later, Ethan’s words came true. A court summons arrived in the mail.

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After my brother, Finn, was imprisoned for white-collar crime, his enemies came after me. I couldn’t find a job. I was hounded by threats. Every morning, I’d open my door to find dog crap on the doorstep. Every night, I’d come home to my door splashed with red paint. I broke. Drowning in depression, I tried to kill myself three times in five years. The last time, I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and waited for the end, my heart a hollow cavern of despair. But through the haze, I heard my brother’s frantic voice. “I just wanted to teach Serena a lesson! Who told you to take it this far?” His adopted sister, Amy, whimpered back, “So the fact that she hit me just gets swept under the rug?” And just like that, I knew. My brother was never in prison. Our family was never bankrupt. Everything I had endured was nothing more than punishment for a single slap I’d given Amy five years ago. I closed my eyes, a bitter taste filling my mouth. Oh, Finn, I thought. Your punishment was far too light. My life is yours to take. … As the anesthetic flowed into my veins, the voices faded. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The only person with me was the doctor. He recognized me, of course. Dr. Evans’s face was a grim mask of frustration. “Serena, what was it this time? Why did you want to die?” “If it wasn’t for the emergency stomach pump, you’d be dead. Do you understand that?” A fire raged in my stomach, but I felt nothing. My gaze was a hollow thing fixed on the ceiling. “Someone sent me an urn and a funeral portrait of myself. They told me to go die.” The doctor stood there for a long moment, then sighed. “It’s your life, Serena. Are you really going to die just because someone tells you to?” “Please,” he said, the weariness evident in his voice, “don’t do this again.” I could hear the helplessness in his tone. He’d seen me three times in five years. The first time, I jumped from a fourth-story window. I misjudged the height and survived. The thought of Finn, waiting for me to pick him up from prison, filled me with immediate regret. I dragged my broken, bleeding body to the hospital. The second time, I slit my wrists. As I watched the crimson pool spread across the floor, I remembered I was in a rented apartment. It felt wrong to die in someone else’s house, to leave such a mess for them to find. So, once again, I went to the hospital. This was the third time. This time, I didn’t care about my brother. I didn’t care about anyone else. I poured the sleeping pills I’d been hoarding for months into my mouth and swallowed. And still, I didn’t die. Dr. Evans was still talking. “When you’re discharged this time, I’m controlling your prescription. You’ll have to come in every day to pick up your dose. I can’t give you a full bottle anymore.” He turned to leave. “Doctor,” I rasped, my voice raw. “Did you see a man? He looks a little like me.” He knew all about my brother in prison. He gave me a look of pity and shook his head. “Serena, you’re still disoriented. You need to rest.” “There was no man. A young woman brought you in. Said she was your neighbor.” I said nothing more. After he left, I pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand and walked out of the room. The “young woman” Dr. Evans mentioned was waiting for me right outside the door. Our eyes met. The venom in hers was impossible to hide. “Serena,” Amy sneered, “if you want to die so badly, why don’t you do it properly? A kitchen knife across the throat—one good slice and it’s over. Why bother with sleeping pills?” I ignored her words and offered a faint smile. “Since when are you my neighbor?” A flicker of guilt crossed her face. “I wouldn’t be caught dead here if it wasn’t for Finn!” She spun around to leave, then paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Next time you try to die, do it in the bathroom. That way, no one will have a chance to find you.” My expression remained a perfect blank. She hurried away. I went home. There was no dog crap on the doorstep. The red paint on the wall had been scrubbed clean. After a long moment, I pushed the door open and looked up. My eyes caught it instantly—a tiny surveillance camera, newly installed, tucked away behind the old curtain rod. Small enough to miss if you weren’t looking for it. Finn had been here. I casually averted my gaze and went into the bathroom. Perhaps he wanted to give me some semblance of privacy. There were no cameras in here. Only the shattered pieces of the urn and the torn black-and-white photo of me, scattered on the floor. I could almost see myself from a few hours ago—hysterical, broken, hopeless. No wonder. No wonder Amy told me to die in the bathroom. No camera. Finn would never find me. A wave of absurdity washed over me. My legs gave out and I slid to the floor, burying my face in my hands, my grief a silent, writhing thing inside me. Finn, your punishment is still too light. You should have taken my life. … I grew up coddled, born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I never learned to back down from a fight. Years ago, my parents died in a car crash. Finn decided the house felt too empty with just the two of us, so he brought his adopted sister, Amy, to live with us. To his face, Amy would call me “sister” with sickening sweetness. Behind his back, she’d accuse me of hitting her. Finn called me spoiled, said I didn’t know how to behave. I wasn’t about to take that kind of accusation lying down. I slapped Amy right then and there. “That,” I said, my voice dripping with ice, “is what hitting looks like.” She burst into gut-wrenching sobs, collapsing at Finn’s feet, begging him for justice. He ordered me to apologize. When I refused, he raised his hand to strike me. In that moment, I spoke, my voice dangerously calm. “Finn. Think very carefully. If that hand comes down, you are no longer my brother.” The veins in his temples pulsed with rage. His hand remained suspended in the air. Finally, he lowered it and turned to Amy, pulling her up and comforting her with gentle words. “I’m so sorry, Amy. I’ve spoiled Serena rotten. I’ll teach her a lesson, I promise. Don’t be sad…” At the time, I scoffed. What kind of lesson could he possibly teach me? A beating? I could take it. And I’d get my revenge. I was so wrong. A few days later, Finn announced that our family was bankrupt. He had been sentenced to six years in prison for financial crimes. Panic seized me. I gathered all the jewelry, designer bags, and watches he’d ever given me. It wasn’t even enough to cover a fraction of the debt. He went to prison. The villa was seized. I was an orphan, homeless. For the next five years, I was hunted. His “enemies” made my life a living hell. I couldn’t find a job—even the sleaziest bars wouldn’t hire me as a hostess. I survived by collecting cans and bottles, living a life lower than a sewer rat. Every day, anonymous messages would arrive, calculating how many bodies I’d have to sell to pay off Finn’s debts. The red paint on my walls felt like blood, a stain that could never be washed away. The sound of knocking in the dead of night was terrifying. Each time I opened the door, the hallway was empty, save for the funeral money, wreaths, and paper dolls scattered on the floor. I thought about leaving Port Sterling. But Finn was in prison, waiting for me. So I endured. I broke, I healed, I broke again. I couldn’t even die properly. It was a cycle of torture with no end. The moment I swallowed those pills, I felt a pang of guilt. Amy had run away, and now I was running away, too. When Finn got out, he’d have no one. How would he survive? But he was the one who saved me. Why? Why would you save me, Finn? You should have watched with cold indifference. You should have stood by and let me die by my own hand. Anything would have been better than letting me learn that these five years of blood and tears were nothing more than your idea of a punishment. … My tears had run dry. I started the journey to the prison. I had never dared to visit him before. I was afraid he’d see how broken I was and feel sorry for me. But now I understood. He was probably living in the lap of luxury. The only one suffering was me. Just as I expected, when I told the prison guard why I was there, he laughed. “Miss, we have no inmate here by the name of Finn Monroe. Are you sure you have the right name?” The sunlight was blinding. It made my eyes water again. I looked down. “I must have been mistaken. Since he’s not here, I’ll go check at home.” I went home. To the villa that was supposed to have been seized. It was blazing with lights. It was Amy’s birthday. There was a party in full swing. Fairy lights were strung up in the yard. A movie was playing on a projector screen over the musical fountain. A group of girls—Amy’s friends, I assumed—were sitting nearby. When they saw me at the gate, their faces twisted in disgust. “Where did this beggar come from? Shoo! Get lost! There’s no money for you here!” I ignored them, keyed in the old passcode, and walked straight in. They were stunned that I knew the code and didn’t dare to stop me. I pushed open the front door. My eyes met Finn’s. He was in the middle of placing a birthday crown on Amy’s head. The color drained from his face. The paper crown in his hand crumpled. Amy froze, her grip tightening on her knife and fork. The air grew thick with an awkward silence. They exchanged a look, neither of them speaking. I, on the other hand, walked to the table, pulled the four-tiered cake towards me, and began to eat it with my hands. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten something so delicious. For five years, things I once took for granted were now just scents I’d inhale as I passed by a bakery. Sometimes, the craving would be so intense I’d pick through trash cans for someone’s leftovers, not caring how dirty they were. “Serena…” Finn frowned and moved to stop me. “Wash your hands first. They’re dirty…” Dirty? I met his gaze. Then, with deliberate slowness, I licked the frosting from each of my fingers. His expression soured, his lips tightening into a thin line. Amy finally spoke, her voice strained. “Serena, what do you think you’re doing? Finn didn’t mean to deceive you! He just saved your life!” My stomach, used to watery broth and scraps, churned at the sudden onslaught of sweetness. I pushed the cake away. Without a word, I grabbed a baseball bat that was leaning against a nearby wall and swung it with all my might into the dining table. “Happy birthday?” I screamed, my voice cracking. “I was about to die, and you’re throwing a birthday party?” “Five years! You punished me for five years over a single slap? Fine! If I can’t be happy, then no one can!” I was a whirlwind of rage, the bat crashing down again and again. Finn stood frozen, his face ashen, watching me. Amy cowered behind him, not daring to make a sound. The table was soon a wreck of splintered wood and shattered glass. But was it enough? No. I moved into the living room. The sofa, the television, the coffee table—all of them were reduced to rubble. The sound of destruction was deafening. Finn didn’t stop me. It was only when I lunged for Amy that he grabbed my wrist, his grip like steel. “Haven’t you had enough?” he hissed. My chest heaved. I couldn’t speak. Our eyes locked, and his grip tightened, bit by bit, until tears welled in my eyes. His eyelashes fluttered. He let me go. The very next second, my hand connected with Amy’s face. The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the room, followed by her shriek of pain. It was as if the sound snapped the last thread of reason in his mind. Without thinking, he hit me back. The force of his blow sent me sprawling to the floor, my ears ringing. “Serena,” he said, his voice laced with bitter disappointment. “I can’t believe that even after all this, you still don’t understand that you were wrong!” “I punished you, yes, but it wasn’t real. Did you really have to take it this far?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It took a moment before I could force any words out. “I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills…” “And I saved you.” His voice was laced with frustration, as if he regretted his own decision. “Look, now that you know the truth, just come home. I promise, I won’t let you suffer anymore, okay?” I wanted to laugh, but tears came first. “Finn, where were you for the past five years?” He avoided my gaze. “We went traveling overseas for a bit. So you wouldn’t get suspicious.” With those words, my heart plummeted into the deepest, coldest part of hell. So while I was scavenging for my next meal, he and Amy were vacationing around the world. I suddenly felt like a fool for even coming here. I nodded, got to my feet, and turned to leave. As I reached the door, Amy shouted, “Don’t you feel so wronged, Serena! You deserved every bit of it!” I turned back. My eyes went past her, locking onto my brother’s. His silence was an agreement. His expression was distant, cold. I gripped the doorknob to keep myself from collapsing. “Fine,” I whispered. “I owe you all.” For the next few days, Finn bombarded me with calls and texts. He thought I was still sulking. At first, he was angry, accusing me of not understanding his “good intentions.” [You’re such a princess. I let you live on your own for a couple of years without any money and you try to kill yourself and wreck the house.] [Serena, do you really think the entire world revolves around you?] [Do you think these five years were easy for me? I was in agony every day, just waiting for you to come home!] [You’ve failed me, and you’ve failed Mom and Dad!] When I didn’t respond, his tone shifted. He tried to coax me back. [Hasn’t it been long enough? Can’t you see? We’re family, Serena. I promise, if you come home, I’ll send Amy abroad. How about that?] [Stop being stubborn. It’s just an apology. Say you’re sorry and we can put all this behind us.] But no matter what he said, his messages were met with a wall of silence. Finally, his disappointment turned to something colder. [So you won’t listen to reason or threats? I really have spoiled you too much.] [I was actually feeling guilty, I wanted to make it up to you. But I see now that’s not necessary.] [Serena, from this day on, I’m done with you. You’re about to find out what a real punishment looks like.] [Without me, you are nothing!] And he was right. After he washed his hands of me, life became even harder. Bribed by Amy’s money, more and more people joined in the torment. My new phone number was leaked. The moment I turned it on each day, it would be flooded with filth. The dog crap at my door became a constant, disgusting battle. A single, enormous word was painted on the wall opposite my door in blood-red paint: DIE. The sound of a woman weeping would echo from all sides of my small apartment in the dead of night. Anonymous packages arrived, containing dead rats or grotesque dolls. Even my neighbors, disturbed by the constant chaos, begged me to move out. And through it all, Finn knew nothing. He had taken Amy traveling again. Every now and then, a text would come through. [Why is the camera turned off?] [Running out of money for food yet? Still not coming home?] [I haven’t changed the code to the villa. You can come back and live there. I’ll smooth things over with Amy. You just have to come back and apologize.] […] [Fine. I know how stubborn you are. Let’s see how long you can last.] But it didn’t matter anymore. The harassment, his messages—none of it mattered. I had already decided how to end this charade for good. I had turned off the camera, but I still didn’t feel safe. So I went into the bathroom and locked the door. The blade slid across my wrist. I had experience this time. My hand was quick and steady. As the blood trickled down, memories of Finn and me flickered through my mind like a movie reel. I was just a year old. The first word I ever spoke wasn’t “mama” or “dada.” It was “Finn.” His eyes lit up as he took my outstretched finger in his hand, our parents looking on with envy. From that day on, he treated me like a queen. I hated homework. I wouldn’t listen to anyone and was constantly getting my parents called into school. My mother would try to discipline me, but he would stand in front of me. “Mom, let me handle it. I’ll tutor her.” I wouldn’t listen to teachers or tutors, only him. After just six months with him, my grades skyrocketed. The day I got into the best high school in the city, he ruffled my hair with pride. “You’re amazing, Serena. What do you want as a reward?” In middle school, I was bullied. I got into a fight and broke my arm. When he found out, he scolded me, his face dark with anger. “You can’t just go around hitting people!” But the next morning, he was standing at my school gate with a baseball bat. “Who hurt my sister? Get out here, now!” …

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I was held captive in my sadistic neighbor’s basement, separated from my fiancé’s garage by nothing more than a single wall. Adam searched the world for me on the outside. I screamed until my throat was raw, praying he would hear me. The next moment, my neighbor burst in and brutally cut out my tongue. The agony sent me into darkness. In my despair, I slammed my head against the wall, only to find it lined with soundproof foam the next day. To survive, I learned to grovel, to debase myself in every way he demanded. I endured three years of unspeakable humiliation, all for a single chance to steal the key. The moment I stumbled home, I found Adam sitting with him, sharing a cup of tea. “It’s been three years,” Adam said calmly. “Serena should have learned her lesson by now. Let her out tomorrow. Julia wants her at our wedding.” The neighbor smiled. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Monroe. The lady is quite tame now. She won’t be causing Miss Reed any more trouble.” I staggered backward, the reality too much to bear. I ran from the house and threw myself into the lake. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was taken. This time, I sent a message to Julia Reed: “Come to the basement. I have a secret about Adam to tell you.” 1 “Serena, darling, a last-minute meeting just came up at the office. I’m going to be late tonight.” Adam smoothed the collar of my dress, his touch gentle as he placed a soft kiss on my cheek. “Once I’m done, I’ll take you to that French place you love.” “Okay,” I said, smiling as I wrapped my arms around him. Where he couldn’t see, my nails dug deep into my palms. In my past life, this was the same excuse he used. He told me to wait for him by the villa gates after midnight. The moment I stepped outside, my neighbor, Rick, clamped a hand over my mouth, and the world went black. I was dragged into his basement. In one night, I went from being the celebrated princess of the Sterling family to a prisoner, treated worse than an animal. My brother had searched for me, but Adam masterfully fabricated a story that I had run away, cutting off my only chance of rescue. As for his claim that I had bullied his secretary, Julia Reed, I had no memory of it. The only thing I could recall was a single, offhand comment I made when I visited his office. “That perfume is a bit strong.” Adam dealt with a lot of clients. An overly sweet, cloying scent was unprofessional and didn’t suit his image. I never imagined that simple sentence would be twisted into a malicious attack. Fine. If that’s what she considered an attack, then this time, I’d give her a real one. Adam ducked into his car, waving goodbye. I returned his smile. The moment his car was out of sight, I pulled a phone from my pocket. I had lifted it from his jacket during our hug. I unlocked the screen and opened his chat with Julia. “Serena’s out for the evening,” I typed. “Come to my villa later. We’ll have some fun.” The reply was almost instant, her tone cloyingly sweet. “Adam, honey, how did you know I bought a new slip dress? It’s lace. I’ll wear it for you tonight.” “No,” I typed back, glancing down at the white dress I was wearing. Adam had specifically asked the maid to lay this out for me for our dinner. From what I understood, Rick had just moved in and didn’t know me by sight. This dress was the signal. Coincidentally, Julia owned a similar one. A “performance bonus” from Adam last month. When I told her to wear that specific dress, she replied with a cute, nodding emoji. Once she took the bait, I messaged the head butler, telling him to give all the staff the evening off. I needed the villa empty. No witnesses. As dusk settled, I went upstairs with a pair of binoculars. At eleven o’clock sharp, Julia arrived at the gates. Using Adam’s phone, I sent one last message: “Wait for me at the gate. Just grabbing something.” She glanced at her phone, a blush creeping up her cheeks, and waited obediently. A second later, a large figure emerged from the shadows behind her, clamping a hand over her mouth. She struggled, her muffled screams useless against his strength. I watched as Julia was dragged away, then lowered the binoculars and dialed my brother’s number. “Hey, you know that vacation you said you wanted to take me on? How about right now?” My brother met me in the airport lounge, dressed in casual clothes. The moment he saw me, he playfully poked my forehead. “Well, well, if it isn’t Mrs. Monroe-to-be,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though his eyes shone with delight. He was holding a cup of my favorite coffee. “What’s this? Finally have time for your big brother? Done playing house with that bastard Adam?” My nose stung, and tears welled in my eyes. My parents died when I was young, and my brother raised me. He poured everything he had into his work, building our family’s name into an empire, all to ensure I would never want for anything. He had been against my engagement to Adam from the start, seeing him as a man consumed by ambition, but he had given in for my sake. How could I have been so blind? “Brother…” My voice cracked. He immediately cupped my face, his brow furrowed in concern. “Why are your eyes so red? Did that bastard Adam do something to you?” The tears streamed down my cheeks. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I told him everything—how Adam and Julia had conspired against me in my past life, the whole sordid story. When I finished, my brother’s hands were clenched into fists, his body trembling with rage. “That son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him.” He started to storm off, but I grabbed his arm. “Don’t. Not yet.” “This time,” I said, my voice steady, “I’ll get my own revenge. I just need you to be there when I need you.” “For example,” I added, “I need you to find me a voice actress. One who sounds just like Julia.” He blinked, then a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. “Done.” He immediately made the call, while I opened my tablet and pulled up the live feed from the villa’s security cameras. Before leaving, I’d had my personal security team install 360-degree surveillance, including cameras in Rick’s basement. It was now the day after Julia’s abduction. Adam didn’t return until dawn. He called my name twice, tentatively. When there was no answer, a triumphant smirk touched his lips. He eagerly called Julia to share the news, but the call went straight to voicemail. He sighed, a fond, patronizing sound. “Still asleep at this hour.” He didn’t give it a second thought and went to his study. I switched the feed to Julia. The basement was pitch-black. She was huddled in a corner, shivering. Creeak. The door opened, letting in a sliver of light. Rick entered, rubbing his hands together with a lecherous grin. He tilted Julia’s chin up, looking her over. “Tsk, tsk. I thought a rich man’s wife would be more refined. You’ve got a cheap look about you.” Julia’s eyes widened as if she’d grabbed a lifeline. “You’ve got the wrong person! I’m not Serena Sterling! I’m Julia Reed.” “Take me to Adam Monroe,” she pleaded. “He’ll still pay you!” Before she could finish, Rick slapped her hard across the face, then spat on her. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You match the description Mr. Monroe gave me perfectly.” “White dress, brown wavy hair, and this mole on your neck.” He yanked her collar open, his eyes greedily tracing the rise and fall of her chest as he pinched her cruelly. “No! The mole is drawn on!” Julia shrieked, fighting back. Watching the monitor, I almost doubled over with laughter. She never imagined that the very thing she did to imitate me would become her undoing. Rick had lost his patience. He roughly shoved her skirt up and unbuckled his belt. “I don’t give a damn who you are. Mr. Monroe said you’re my woman from now on. Behave, and maybe I’ll go easy on you.” As he forced himself on her, a wave of despair washed over Julia’s face. Just then, the sound of a car pulling into the garage echoed from the other side of the wall. Like in my past life, Adam put on a show, barking into his phone. “Keep searching! I don’t care if you have to tear this city apart, you find Serena Sterling, or you’ll all pay!” A flash of hope lit up Julia’s face. With a sudden burst of strength, she shoved Rick off her and scrambled to the wall, pounding on it with her fists. “Adam! It’s me, Julia! Help me!” On the other side of the wall, Adam’s footsteps stopped. He had heard her. My grip tightened on the tablet, a knot of tension forming in my stomach. But it quickly dissolved. Adam didn’t go to the basement. Instead, he called Rick and tore into him. “You idiot! What kind of sloppy job is this? I can hear her screaming from here! It may not be clear, but do you think the Sterling family are fools?” Rick flinched, then turned and kicked Julia viciously. Adam’s voice was laced with menace. “If she makes another sound, I’m cutting your payment in half.” “Adam, honey, it’s me! It’s Julia!” she screamed again, desperately trying to make him understand. Rick slapped her into silence. He tossed his phone aside, grabbed a pair of scissors from a nearby table, and forced her mouth open. “You just had to scream, didn’t you, you little bitch? You had to make this difficult.” “Ah—” The scissors snapped shut. Her scream was cut short. Blood and tears flooded her throat, and she choked, gasping for air. Watching this, the ice in my veins grew colder. So, in my past life, it wasn’t Rick’s idea to cut out my tongue. It was Adam’s order. The deliberate cruelty of it, far more than the betrayal of his love, was what had truly broken me. On the screen, Julia convulsed in pain before passing out. Rick, having lost interest, got up, cursing under his breath. He took the bloody piece of her tongue and went straight to Adam’s house to report his success. “Mr. Monroe, it’s done,” he said, bowing obsequiously. “You can rest assured, she won’t be saying another word.” He added, “The crazy bitch kept screaming that she was your secretary, Miss Reed.” Adam paused, then let out a derisive chuckle. “Tsk, tsk. Serena used to look down on Julia so much. And now she’s using her name to try and save her own skin.” He laughed again, then pulled out his phone to call Julia, wanting to share the joke. The call went to voicemail, as before. He frowned and tried a few more times. I suddenly remembered a note in his phone’s calendar: today was the day he and Julia were supposed to go on a cruise. Her not answering would make him suspicious. I quickly signaled to the voice actress. She called Adam, her voice a perfect imitation of Julia’s coquettish tone. “Adam, honey, I’m not feeling well today. Can we reschedule?” I thought that would be enough, but Adam’s concern for Julia was greater than I’d anticipated. “Not well? Did you catch a cold yesterday? Stay right there, I’m coming to take you to the hospital now.” He hung up and was out the door in a flash, heading for Julia’s apartment. My heart was in my throat. If he found out she wasn’t home, the whole plan would unravel. I had suffered for three years in that hellhole. I wasn’t about to let them off so easily. Just as panic began to set in, Adam arrived at Julia’s apartment and started pounding on the door. “Julia! Are you okay?” I stared at the screen, my mind racing. The next second, the door opened. A woman who looked remarkably like Julia poked her head out. Her tone of voice, the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—it was a perfect mimicry. I stared for a second, stunned. My brother sat down beside me and raised an eyebrow. “Am I not the most reliable brother you have?” I laughed and punched him lightly on the chest. “You could have told me! You scared me to death.” Adam went inside and was quickly charmed by the double. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Adam, honey, I’m just a little tired. I just need to rest. We don’t need to go to the hospital.” He was still insisting when his phone rang. It was Rick, his voice frantic. “Mr. Monroe, it’s bad! The lady… she tried to kill herself! She cut her wrists!” “What?” Adam shot up from the sofa, his hand tightening around his phone. He wanted to teach me a lesson, yes, but he never wanted me dead. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have had Rick release me in my past life. He didn’t have time to soothe the double. He rushed out of the apartment, running seven red lights on his way back to the villa. Rick was waiting for him, babbling. “Mr. Monroe, you should have seen her. I was trying to feed her, and she just went crazy, hitting me, smashing the bowl. The next thing I knew, she had a shard of porcelain and was cutting her wrist. It took all my strength to stop her. She’s really trying to die.” Adam said nothing, but his face was terrifyingly dark. He stopped the car at the basement entrance and burst inside. In just one day, Julia had lost all her former polish. Her hair was a matted mess, her face caked with dried blood, rendering her unrecognizable. The medical care in the basement was primitive; Rick had just used ashes to stop the bleeding. When Julia saw Adam, she scrambled towards him, crawling and clawing, only to be yanked back by the iron chain on her ankle. She fell hard, and the wound on her wrist began to bleed afresh. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, tears streaming down her face. She gestured wildly with her uninjured hand, trying to tell him who she was. Adam just gave her a disgusted glance. Once he confirmed she was alive, he turned to leave. Suddenly, something shiny was thrown at his feet. It was the limited-edition watch he had given Julia last month. Only three existed in the world. He bent down and picked it up, his thumb stroking the watch face, his expression unreadable. I watched on the monitor, my heart pounding. Julia had stopped crying, her eyes filled with hope. The next second, Adam grabbed Rick by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “Didn’t I tell you to take everything from her?” he roared. “What if the Sterling family sees this? What if they think Julia was behind this and go after her?” Rick’s face went white. “I-I swear I did! I didn’t know she was so cunning, hiding Miss Reed’s things! Mr. Monroe, you have to believe me!” Adam let him go, lighting a cigarette with a frustrated sigh. “It’s too late now. She’s seen my face. She knows I’m behind this.” He took a deep drag, as if making a heavy decision. “She’s your problem now. Make sure she never gets out of here.” Julia froze. She lunged forward, grabbing his pant leg, her sobs tearing through the silence. “Get off me!” Adam kicked her away and walked out without a backward glance. A wave of cruel satisfaction washed over me. I couldn’t wait for the day Adam finally learned the truth. In the months that followed, Julia was stripped of all dignity. Chained by the neck, her clothes torn from her body, she lived like an animal. Rick trained her, broke her, until the sound of footsteps was enough to make her kneel and present herself. Meanwhile, Adam’s life wasn’t much better. Julia’s double kept making excuses to avoid him. Frustrated, he showered her with gifts and money, but nothing worked. Finally, he had the maids throw out all of my belongings and redecorate my room for Julia, intending for her to move in. When everything was ready, he called her one last time. Just then, a voice came from the doorway. The maid bowed respectfully. “Madam, you’ve returned.”

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1 I ended up in the hospital after a car accident. A text message from my boyfriend, Alex, popped up on my phone by mistake. [My little princess, are you satisfied with your uncle’s photography skills?] Attached was a photo of a young girl in a princess dress, surrounded by 999 dazzling red roses. Before I could get a closer look, the message was retracted. [Sorry, Stella. Sent that to the wrong person.] I stared at the screen. The messages I’d sent him two hours ago, frantically telling him about the accident, were still sitting there, unanswered. Suddenly, I just felt tired. So incredibly tired. [It’s okay.] You won’t have the chance to make that mistake again. … Alex’s call came through a second later. His voice was as gentle as ever. “Stella, are you about done with work? I’m almost at your office.” “I brought you that dessert you’ve been craving. I waited in line for over forty minutes. And I got your favorite flowers.” “What do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll cook for you. I’ve been practicing that sweet and sour fish you mentioned.” He chattered on, his voice a soft, familiar melody that now felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing my ears. He noticed my silence. “Stella? Are you mad at me?” he asked, his tone shifting to one of gentle persuasion. He chuckled softly. “Don’t overthink it. It’s been a month since Maya got her kitten. She insisted I come over to celebrate, said it wouldn’t be a proper party without me.” “You’re always so busy with work, so I didn’t want to bother you. I’ll have her apologize to you later.” “You know how young girls are, with their quirky little rituals. Not like us…” I couldn’t listen to another word. “Alex, I was in a car accident,” I said, cutting him off. “I’m at the hospital.” The voice on the other end went silent. Then, a rush of frantic sound, his breathing ragged. “Which hospital? Are you badly hurt? Any broken bones? I’m on my way. Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion, as if I were talking about a stranger. “Two hours ago, I sent you seven messages and called you twice. You didn’t answer.” Alex was stunned. “What? That’s impossible. I always reply to you instantly…” He trailed off. We both realized what had happened at the same time. After a moment of charged silence, his apologetic voice came through. “I’m so sorry, Stella. I was picking up the ‘anniversary’ cake for the kitten when you messaged. I didn’t have my phone on me.” “Maya deleted the notifications. I had no idea you were in an accident.” Stella, don’t be mad at her. I asked Maya about it. She didn’t mean any harm. Don’t stoop to a child’s level. It was the same old excuse, a line I had heard so many times it had lost all meaning. The initial searing pain had long since faded into a dull, numb ache. “What if I had died?” My voice was a whisper. “What if I had died in that accident today? Would you still be excusing her behavior, telling me she’s just a child who doesn’t know any better?” Dead silence on the other end. My heart, heavy as lead, sank to the pit of my stomach. I hung up. The tears I hadn’t shed at the scene of the crash finally came, hot and silent. My office wasn’t far from the hospital. Alex must have run every red light because he burst into my room less than fifteen minutes later. He was holding a bouquet of white lisianthus, but they might as well have been the crimson roses from the photo for how much they stung my eyes. “Stella, how are you? Let me see where you’re hurt.” His face was a mask of guilt and concern, and it looked genuine. “I’m so sorry, Stella. I’m late.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for my hand. The moment his fingers brushed mine, I pulled away. His hand froze in mid-air. He quickly recovered, his voice smooth. “Stella, I’m sorry. Maya was in the wrong.” “I apologize on her behalf. She’s just a child.” “When you’re out of the hospital, how about I take you to Iceland to see the Northern Lights?” Seeing the Northern Lights in Iceland. That was the New Year’s wish Alex had shared with me four years ago. Amidst a sky of exploding fireworks, he told me that “aurora” was Latin for “dawn,” and that his love for me had dawned in a moment just like this. But the very next day, his niece, Maya, broke her leg and demanded that he stay with her through her physical therapy. The trip to Iceland never happened. When I didn’t respond, he leaned closer. “I promise, Maya won’t cause any trouble this time. I’ll make sure of it.” The old me would have taken the olive branch. But I had compromised so many times that I had almost forgotten the woman I used to be—decisive, unyielding, a woman who didn’t tolerate excuses. “So it’s settled then. You won’t hold it against her…” “No.” “I’m not willing.” I looked up, meeting his eyes, and enunciated each word with cold precision. He was taken aback by my refusal. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “Stella, it’s not like you were seriously injured. Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Maya didn’t mean any harm. Can’t you just let it go for the sake of peace?” My gaze was sharp, unblinking. “You know exactly what she meant.” 2 His expression didn’t change, but his eyes darted away, unable to meet mine. “We’re just uncle and niece.” I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself. A laugh, sharp and humorless, escaped my lips. “Alex, I’m not an idiot.” Even a fool would have figured it out after six years. Alex and I got together when we were twenty-two. We were the golden couple of our university, admired by everyone. For the first two years, his devotion was boundless. He remembered every little thing I liked, catered to my every whim. He learned to cook just for me, showered me with gifts and flowers. He was my rock, my shield. “It’s okay, Stella. Just leave it to me.” His words, his actions—they built a fortress of love and trust around my heart. When I was twenty-six, he proposed and took me to meet his family. His parents had passed away when he was young, and he had been raised by his older brother. That was the first time I met Maya. I handed her the gift I had bought, but she threw it on the floor and stomped on it without a second glance. In front of everyone, she threw her arms around Alex’s neck. “Uncle Alex, I’m going to marry you when I grow up! Make this bad woman leave our house!” The adults chuckled at her “childish innocence.” I stood there, mortified, unable to say a word. At twenty-eight, I was finally walking down the aisle. That day became the stuff of nightmares. Maya, then sixteen, crashed the wedding with a group of her friends. She held a fruit knife to her wrist. “Uncle Alex, tell me,” she screamed, “what’s more important? My life, or marrying this woman?” The answer was obvious. He spent the next two weeks by her side in the hospital. My carefully planned wedding was ruined. He spent the next two months trying to placate me. “Stella, we’re just relatives. She’s too young to understand the difference between familial love and romantic love. She’ll grow out of it.” So I clung to that explanation, that reassurance. I told myself it was true. Until a week ago. A photo of Maya, now twenty, kissing another boy, was sent to Alex’s phone. We were in the middle of a rare, intimate moment. He saw the message. It was the first time I had ever seen him so angry. His face was a thundercloud as he pushed me away and stormed out of the house, ignoring my tearful pleas. That night, I finally learned the truth. Alex and Maya were not related by blood. She was adopted. And he had known all along. He had never once discouraged her affections. Instead, he used their “familial” bond as an excuse. For six years. My eyes burned. The foundation of my self-reassurance crumbled, the lie a slap across my face. His voice, when he finally spoke of it, was calm. “Even if she’s adopted, we can only ever be uncle and niece.” “The one I love is you.” “It’s Stella.” I looked at him for a long time, struggling to reconcile this man with the earnest, twenty-two-year-old boy I had fallen in love with. Finally, I turned my head away. “Alex, we’re done.” 3 He looked surprised for a moment, then dismissed my words. I had tried to break up with him after the wedding disaster, but he had always managed to win me back. He probably thought I was just angry. “Stella,” he said, a half-joking tone in his voice, “you can’t just leave me. We’ve been married for six years.” “I won’t agree to a divorce.” Just then, his phone rang with the cheerful, custom ringtone he had set for Maya. He answered, and after a few brief words, he stood up, heading for the door. “Stella, Maya’s kitten seems to be dying. I have to go check on it.” “I’ll have Mrs. Gable come and take care of you. Get some rest. Don’t overthink things.” I heard the door click shut and curled up under the blankets. But Alex, we were never married. We had planned to get our marriage license the day after the wedding. But after Maya’s dramatic scene, my wedding became a joke. Everyone was fussing over her, and the license was forgotten. Later, whenever I tried to bring it up, Maya would always find a reason to drag him away. But because of that wedding, everyone called me Mrs. Hayes. Over time, even Alex seemed to forget that we were never legally married. I called my best friend, Jessica. She was at my door in less than fifteen minutes, out of breath. “Stella, are you okay? Does it hurt? Where are you injured?” “Where’s Alex? He’s not here even after you’ve been in an accident?” “Don’t tell me he’s with that niece of his again.” The moment I saw her, the dam of my emotions broke. I buried my face in her shoulder and sobbed. Jessica cursed Alex’s name and was ready to go hunt him down. I shook my head, grabbing her arm. “I broke up with him.” She froze for a second, then hugged me tight. “Good. We don’t need a man with no boundaries like him.” For the next few days, Jessica took time off work to take care of me. Alex never showed up. But I saw his activities plastered all over Maya’s social media. Her kitten had died. To cheer her up, he took her street racing, protected her in a crowded nightclub, and carried her home on his back when she got drunk. I clicked on a photo, momentarily blinded by the club’s flashing lights. I remembered a conversation we had years ago. He told me he hated clubs, hated the chaotic mix of people. But for Maya, he was willing to go to the places he despised most. A message from Maya popped up on my screen. [Poor you. No one to keep you company even after a car crash.] [I don’t know what an old woman like you has that I don’t. You should know when to back off.] I ignored her message, blocked both her and Alex, and deleted their numbers. When Maya realized she’d been blocked, she came to the hospital the next day. 4 She was dressed in a flamboyant red dress, looking down at me with undisguised provocation. “Stella, how have you been?” “I’ve been having a great time, by the way.” She sat down by my bed. “Alex hasn’t visited you once, has he?” I stared at her coldly. “What do you want?” “Nothing. I just feel a little sorry for you, so I brought Alex to see you today.” Her voice dripped with the smug superiority of someone who knows they are favored. She sighed dramatically. “You know, why don’t you just die like your mother did? What’s the point of living if you can’t even keep a man…” My vision went red. In an instant, I slapped her across the face. Before I could say anything else, the door swung open. “Stella, don’t go too far!” Alex, holding takeout containers, stepped in front of Maya, shielding her. “Maya came here to apologize to you. You can’t just hit her for no reason!” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “No reason? Do you have any idea what she just said?” “Uncle Alex, it’s okay. It was my fault,” Maya interrupted, her voice trembling. A look of disappointment crossed Alex’s face. I tried to explain. “She started it—” But he wasn’t listening. “Stella, I thought you were a mature, understanding woman. But you can’t even tolerate a child.” “You should think about what you’ve done.” With that, he turned and left with Maya, leaving me alone in the room. It felt like my chest was stuffed with cotton, making it hard to breathe. Over the next week, I received photos of Alex and Maya from unknown numbers. One was a selfie of Maya, with a sleeping Alex in the background. Each photo felt like a piece of my heart being carved out. The first thing I did after being discharged was go home to pack my bags. If you can’t fix the source of the pain, you cut it out completely. As I was packing, Alex called. It had been a while. “Stella, why did you block me on social media?” “Are you still mad? Don’t be so petty.” “I’m coming home tonight. I’ll make you that sweet and sour fish, okay?” “No, thank you,” I said, my voice flat. “We’ve already broken up.” “Who’s been taking care of you? Mrs. Gable didn’t come? Why didn’t you tell me?” “What’s the point? We both know who stopped her from coming.” He was silent for a few seconds, then his voice took on that familiar, exasperated tone. “Don’t throw tantrums and talk about breaking up, Stella. Be good.” “Wait for me to come home and make it up to you.” I didn’t reply. I hung up and blocked his number. Then, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the home I had lived in for six years without a backward glance. 5 Alex arrived home at eight o’clock, with Maya in tow. She had been whining for Mrs. Gable’s cooking, and he had given in. “Stella?” “Stella? I’m home.” The house was silent. He had expected her to greet him with a cheerful voice. He chuckled to himself. She was acting just like she did when they were younger, giving him the silent treatment when she was mad. “Stella, come on out.” He checked every room, even the storage closet, but she was nowhere to be found. A sense of unease began to creep into his heart. He grabbed Mrs. Gable, who was about to start cooking. “Where’s my wife?” Mrs. Gable sighed. “Madam left with her suitcase this morning.” “Sir, did you make her angry again?” Alex froze, then quickly pulled out his phone. The call went straight to voicemail. His heart started to pound. “Mrs. Gable, why didn’t you stop her? She’s been in a bad mood lately, throwing a tantrum and threatening to break up with me.” “Now that she’s gone, I can’t even try to make it up to her.” Before Mrs. Gable could reply, Maya burst out laughing, her voice filled with excitement. “What? That woman finally broke up with you?!” She ran over and grabbed his arm, her face beaming. “Alex, you can finally be with me!” He wasn’t in the mood for her games. He pulled his arm away. “Stop it. Stella and I are husband and wife. I’m not divorcing her.” Maya’s smile was sickeningly sweet. “Divorce? Alex, you and Stella were never married.” He stared at her, uncomprehending. “What are you talking about? We had a wedding…” He trailed off as a horrifying realization dawned on him. His face went pale.

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1 I’ve been playing men like fiddles since I was a girl, a self-taught master of the innocent act. But even a woman as free-spirited as me had to face the music: an arranged marriage to save the family business. Just as I was resigning myself to my fate, my fiancé’s “best girl friend” came back from abroad. At her welcome-home party, this friend, Anna, lost a party game. Her forfeit? To straddle my fiancé, Adrian, and have him help her unhook her bra. When she saw me arrive, she grinned. “Hey, future sis-in-law! We’re just pals, practically grew up in the same pair of jeans. There’s nothing he hasn’t seen. You’re not gonna get bent out of shape over a little thing like this, are you?” Adrian’s childhood friends quickly chimed in to smooth things over. “Everyone in our circle knows the future Mrs. Thorne is the epitome of grace and class. She’s not the type to sweat the small stuff.” I’d already heard all about Anna and her “one of the guys” routine on my way over. A slow smile spread across my lips. This was going to be fun. She wanted to be “one of the guys”? I’d show her what a true master of the game looked like. … I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, my smile flawlessly sweet. “Why would I mind? It’s totally normal for good friends to roughhouse a bit. Honestly, I’m a little jealous of your bond.” Adrian seemed surprised by my easy-going response. He gently pushed Anna off his lap, offering a half-hearted scolding. “You’re a grown woman. Stop messing around.” Anna stuck her tongue out playfully, then immediately locked her arm around Adrian’s, refusing to let go. Just like that, I, the fiancée, was shoved to the periphery. A classic, premeditated move on Anna’s part. But I didn’t let a hint of displeasure show. I simply took a seat and quietly joined their game of King’s Cup. During the first round, I pretended to be a complete novice, flipping my card over for everyone to see. “I got the number four.” Anna let out a condescending laugh. “Adrian, where did you find this girl? She’s never even played a simple game like this? Another boring good-girl type.” My hand paused, and I let a flicker of hurt cross my face. I knew Adrian had a soft spot for the fragile, damsel-in-distress act. It made him feel like a savior. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I’ve never been good at these things.” Just as I’d predicted, his brow furrowed, his voice taking on a serious edge. “Don’t be ridiculous, Anna. Sera is just innocent. This is her first time in a bar.” I lowered my head, letting my long hair curtain my face as I gave my shoulders a slight, almost imperceptible tremble. In the dim, pulsing light of the club, they all probably thought I was fighting back tears. In reality, I was fighting back a laugh. Thank you, Mom and Dad, I thought, for insisting I play the part of a sweet, untouched angel for this engagement. Adrian gestured, and the person next to him quickly scooted over. He patted the now-empty space on the sofa beside him. “Sera, come sit here. I’ll teach you.” Ignoring the thunderous look on Anna’s face, I moved to Adrian’s side. But she wasn’t one to be outdone. She was already plotting her next move. Soon enough, Anna was chosen by the King again. This time, the dare was explicit: Sit on the lap of a man of your choice and feed him a drink, mouth to mouth. The whoops and hollers from the group nearly blew the roof off the private room. Anna’s eyes scanned the men before landing, with dramatic finality, on Adrian. She picked up a glass of whiskey, her smile wild and triumphant. “Adrian, my brother in arms. You gonna help a friend out or what?” The hand Adrian had on mine tightened for a second. I could feel his hesitation. The cheering only grew louder. His best friend, Ethan, started banging on the table. “Don’t go soft on us now, Thorne! Not in front of your girl!” “Everyone knows you and Anna are just friends! It’s just a kiss, what’s the big deal?” The words boxed him in. He glanced at me, searching for something. I met his gaze with eyes wide and crystal clear, offering a look that was not just permissive, but encouraging. “Go on,” I said softly. “It’s just a game. It’s okay.” A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, as if my indifference bothered him, but the roar of the crowd was too much. He leaned back into the couch in a gesture of surrender. Like a conquering hero, Anna sauntered over, whiskey in hand, and settled onto his lap. The room fell instantly silent, all eyes fixed on the charged, scandalous scene unfolding before us. Anna wrapped her arms around Adrian’s neck, took a sip of the liquor, and leaned in, pressing her lips to his. A few seconds stretched into an eternity. A trickle of amber liquid escaped the corner of his mouth, a glistening testament to their intimacy. The room erupted in applause. Anna’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling. She turned to face the crowd, her voice loud and clear, aimed directly at me. “What are you all staring at? We’re just friends! Don’t make it dirty!” I watched the whole melodrama play out, then calmly set down my glass of juice. Now that everyone else had had their fun, it was my turn. I’d outgrown these childish games years ago. When I wanted to play, I could make them all dance like puppets on a string. For the rest of the night, every single round, the King card found its way into my hand. I propped my chin on my hand, my gaze sweeping lazily across the room. Anna watched me with a dismissive smirk, clearly convinced that a little wallflower like me couldn’t possibly cause any trouble. I smiled back, my eyes crinkling with mischief. “Number three has to kiss number four. For five seconds.” Number three was Ethan, the loudest of the cheerleaders. And number four? My “devoted” fiancé, Adrian. The room went dead silent again. Ethan and Adrian stared, mouths agape, while the color drained from Anna’s face. Oblivious to the sudden tension, I chirped happily, “Go on! You’re all best friends, what’s a little kiss? Anna just gave a perfect demonstration! Don’t be so stingy with your brotherly love. Oh, or do you only kiss your girl friends, and not your guy friends?” I put extra emphasis on the words friends and demonstration. After all the grandstanding about their “unbreakable bond,” backing down now would be a direct insult to their sacred friendship. Trapped by the rules and the suffocatingly awkward atmosphere, Ethan gritted his teeth and leaned in to give Adrian a long, passionate kiss. I clapped my hands, laughing with delight. “This is so much fun!” She liked watching him kiss his friends? Fine. He could kiss them all. Over the next three rounds, I didn’t let up, drawing the King card each time. By the end of it, every single one of Adrian’s “brothers” at the table had shared a kiss with him. After Ethan broke the ice, none of the others could refuse without looking like a poor sport. Adrian, for his part, remained frozen in his seat, his face as dark as a thundercloud, radiating a chilling aura. “Are you having fun?” he bit out, his voice dangerously low. I tilted my head up, my expression one of pure, childish glee. “So much fun! Darling, am I the luckiest girl or what? And your ‘best girl friend’ is so interesting! I can’t wait to hang out with her again.” Adrian’s expression was a twisted knot of emotions. He gave up trying to speak, snatched his jacket from the couch, and stormed out of the room. Anna scrambled after him. “Adrian, wait for me!” I called out sweetly to their retreating backs, “Are we done playing? But I was just getting the hang of it!” Anna shot me a look of pure venom over her shoulder. “You’re sick.” 2 Adrian didn’t contact me for a few days after that night. I was more than happy for the peace and quiet. I went shopping, took a flower-arranging class, and enjoyed my freedom. Anna’s social media, however, was anything but quiet. A couple of days ago, she was at a ranch with Adrian, riding horses. The caption read: “There’s no point in being his trophy wife. Be his ally. The one who’s always by his side.” A few days later, they were on jet skis, a nine-photo spread of their cozy moments. In the pictures, they wore matching t-shirts. Hers read “The First Woman,” with a line of smaller text beneath it: “Always in your heart.” My best friend shoved her phone in my face, zooming in on the text. “This girl is beyond shameless,” she fumed. “She’s not just annoying, she’s actively trying to steal your man! Sera, how can you be so calm?” I took a leisurely sip of my afternoon tea. “Why rush? There are plenty of men in the world. If she wants him that badly, she can have him.” “But what about your family?” she pressed, her voice laced with worry. “I thought the whole point of this engagement was to fix your company’s cash flow problem.” I shrugged. “The ink on the partnership agreement dried two weeks ago. I never planned on actually marrying Adrian anyway. The breakup was always part of the plan. I just needed him to be the one at fault.” Honestly, if Anna hadn’t shown up, I would have had to work a lot harder to make that happen. According to Anna’s latest blog post, tonight she and Adrian were going to fulfill some important “ten-year pact.” I didn’t know the details, but it sparked an idea. I pulled out my phone and called my old friend Leo, inviting him to go camping on Blackwood Mountain to watch the stars. As soon as we arrived, I posted a series of photos to my Instagram story. I carefully mimicked the composition of Anna’s pictures with Adrian, tagged our location, and added a cryptic caption: “You know the secrets of the universe, and the secrets of my heart.” An hour later, long before any shooting stars appeared, I heard the roar of an engine. Adrian stepped out of his car, the harsh glare of his headlights casting his face in shadow. “You don’t send a single text for days, and I find you camping on a mountain with another guy? Seraphina, have you forgotten you’re my fiancée?!” His voice was loud, and I feigned a terrified flinch, tears instantly welling in my eyes. “Darling,” I cried, my voice trembling. “You walked out on me the other night… I thought you were angry, that you didn’t want me anymore. I was too scared to call you.” Adrian froze, his anger deflating as he looked at me. His gaze then shifted to Leo. “And who is this?” Leo stepped forward, and I linked my arm through his, explaining patiently to Adrian. “This is Leo, my childhood friend. We practically grew up in the same pair of jeans—just like you and Anna.” My twisted logic left Adrian speechless, his face a mask of fury. He grabbed my hand and started dragging me back down the mountain. On the way, his phone began ringing incessantly, buzzing like an angry hornet. I was trying to nap, but the noise was driving me crazy. “Sweetheart, who is that? It must be important, you should answer it.” Before he could protest, I reached over and hit the answer button on the car’s display. Anna’s frantic, screeching voice filled the cabin via Bluetooth. “Adrian Thorne! You get a girlfriend and suddenly you forget about me? This is our ten-year pact! You promised me! I don’t care what you’re doing, if you don’t come right now, I swear I’ll jump off the damn roof!” 3 Adrian’s face grew even darker. He stabbed at the screen, ending the call abruptly. I spoke softly, my voice laced with gentle confusion. “Anna sounds really upset. What’s a ten-year pact? It sounds important. Darling, do you have somewhere you need to be? It’s okay, really. I can just get a cab home.” “Shut up,” he snapped, his voice cold and frayed with irritation. “It’s nothing important. She’s just being dramatic. I’ll have Ethan go pick her up.” I said nothing more. The car finally pulled up in front of my apartment building. Adrian leaned back in the driver’s seat, rubbing the bridge of his nose before turning to me. His voice was softer now. “Sera, Anna and I have known each other forever. She’s always been like one of the guys, a bit reckless and tactless sometimes. But we are honestly just friends. Don’t overthink it. And please, don’t do things like this just to make me jealous.” I turned to meet his gaze, a small smile playing on my lips. “I’m not overthinking anything. And I’m not jealous. I trust you. And you trust me, right? Leo and I… we’re just ‘sisters’.” His jaw tightened. He opened his mouth to say something else, but his phone rang again. It was Ethan. “Dude, you need to get over here. Anna’s losing it. You’re the only one who can handle her.” Adrian hesitated. I offered him a patient, understanding smile as I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed the door open. “Go on,” I said. “She really needs you.” I knew he was still watching. As I reached the entrance of my building, I let my body go limp, collapsing to the pavement like a fallen leaf. The car door slammed. In seconds, Adrian was scooping me up and rushing me to the hospital. A night of admissions, tests, and worried bedside vigils followed. I complained of phantom pains, of being scared, of feeling dizzy. I kept him occupied until the sun came up, ensuring he never made it to Anna’s ten-year pact. The next morning, with a heart full of three parts guilt and four parts pitiable sweetness, I used Adrian’s phone to call Anna. “Anna,” I whispered weakly into the receiver. “It’s all my fault. I don’t know what happened, I just fainted. I feel so terrible for ruining your special night. Can you ever forgive me?” Anna was seething, but with Adrian right there, all she could do was slam the phone down. A moment later, her blog exploded. “Some ‘fiancées’ have all the tricks. Playing the frail victim one minute, then dragging guys up mountains to ‘see the stars’ the next. And making sure to post the location so everyone knows. Does she think we’re all blind?” “A ten-year pact? Ha. Apparently, it can’t compete with one night of ‘stargazing confessions.’ That’s men for you. The new girl comes along and suddenly your oldest ‘friend,’ the one who’s been there forever, means nothing.” “Whatever. Friends are for life, girls are just temporary. You can live without a limb, but you can always get a new shirt. I get it.” The post was accompanied by a photo of her sitting alone in the grandstands of a racetrack, a single, desolate figure next to two cans of beer, one of which was empty. I couldn’t help but laugh as I screenshotted everything. After being thwarted twice in a row, Anna was clearly on the verge of a complete breakdown. The day after tomorrow was our engagement party. I hoped she had a surprise for me. I was dying to see it. 4 On the day of the party, Anna was a vision in a stunning red dress, gliding through the guests with a glass of champagne, laughing and chatting with Adrian’s circle of friends. Eventually, she made her way over to me, holding two glasses of red wine, her smile blinding. “Sera, I know I’ve been a bit childish lately. This is for you, an apology. To you and Adrian. May you have a long and happy life together.” She was standing so close I could see the feverish excitement dancing in her eyes. When the wicked offer gifts, they are plotting something foul. I waved a hand dismissively, my expression apologetic. “Anna, I appreciate the thought, but I’ll have to pass on the wine. I’m not feeling very well today.” Her expression instantly hardened. She leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “Are you done playing the innocent little flower? Because I’m about to rip those petals right off.” I looked up at her, my face a mask of confused panic. “I don’t understand what you mean.” But Anna just smiled, turned, and walked away, leaving me with her cryptic threat hanging in the air. The ceremony was halfway through. Adrian and I were standing hand-in-hand, about to exchange rings. That’s when Anna made her move. “Wait!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the elegant music. “On this joyous occasion, I have a special gift for the bride-to-be!” A confused murmur rippled through the crowd. Anna clapped her hands twice, and the grand doors to the ballroom swung open. Four or five handsome men walked in. The moment I saw their faces, I froze. Anna seized on my flicker of stunned silence, her smile growing wider and more vicious. Adrian frowned, turning to me. “Do you know them?” Before I could answer, Anna spoke for me. “Of course she knows them! These are just a few of the many men she’s had in her life since she was a teenager.” “She jumps from one to the next, tossing them aside when she gets bored. She’s a seasoned player, pretending to be some innocent little lamb.” “Adrian, we’ve been friends for over twenty years! I couldn’t stand by and watch you be deceived like this!” The ballroom erupted in gasps and whispers. I felt Adrian’s arm go rigid beside me. When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with shock and suspicion. Across the room, my parents’ faces were pale. Adrian’s family looked grim. I lifted my chin, my eyes quickly filling with tears that clung to my lashes, refusing to fall. My lip trembled. “How could you say such things? How could you try to ruin my engagement day like this? What do you possibly have to gain?” Seeing my desperate denial, Anna looked as though she’d just cornered her prey. She lifted her chin higher. “Ruin you? Seraphina, you really won’t confess until you’re staring at your own coffin! I have videos! Videos you filmed yourself during your little escapades! Should I play them right now? Let everyone here see just what a tramp you are in another man’s arms!” With that, Anna marched onto the stage and inserted a USB drive into the laptop connected to the large projector screens. I stumbled forward, grabbing her hand as it reached for the mouse. “Anna, don’t.” Her voice was shrill with excitement. “You’re scared now, aren’t you? Too late! I’m going to play it! I want Adrian, I want everyone, to see the real Seraphina Vance! You’re a liar!” The entire room held its breath, all eyes glued to the giant screen, waiting for the promised spectacle of my downfall.

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1 The day my brother Ethan ran away from home, I went out into the pouring rain to find him. I never did. Instead, I was hit by a fallen power line. I lost both my arms. Just like that, my dream of becoming a doctor was replaced by the reality of being a permanent patient. I tried to kill myself many times, but my family always pulled me back from the edge. My brother would kneel before me, his voice choked with guilt. “This is my fault, Ava.” “I’m begging you. Please don’t die. Please?” My mother quit her job to watch over me day and night. “You’re my whole life!” she’d cry. “If you die, what am I supposed to do?” To cover my medical bills, my father worked himself to the bone, taking overtime, even accepting a long-term transfer overseas. I thought, slowly, things would get better. But just as I’d finally learned to use my feet as my hands, to live again, I overheard them talking. “If I had known… it might have been better to just let her die back then.” That evening, I went up to the roof alone. The wind was strong. I sniffled, but I didn’t cry. “Ava! Don’t move!” My mother came running, yanking me back from the ledge with all her might. She pulled so hard we both tumbled to the ground. Before I could even get up, her hand flew, and a sharp, stinging slap landed on my cheek. “Are you insane? Are you trying to kill me?” My ear rang, my face burned. The next second, she was holding me, crushing me against her in a desperate hug. “If you dare jump, I’m going with you!” Her hot tears soaked the collar of my shirt. Ethan was there too, gasping for breath. He must have run up the stairs so fast he nearly fell. Seeing that I was okay, his knees gave out, and he almost collapsed. My voice was muffled against my mother’s shoulder. “I wasn’t going to die. I swear.” “I just came up for some air.” My mother’s body tensed, but her arms only tightened around me. After a long moment, Ethan turned away, his shoulders slumped. “Let’s go home.” Downstairs, I went through my usual routine, rinsing my feet under the faucet before sitting at the dinner table. The food had been reheated so many times it looked wilted. I lowered my head, clamping the spoon between my toes, and brought the food to my mouth, one slow bite at a time. My mother sat across from me, her eyes red and swollen. Ethan poked at his rice with his chopsticks, not eating a single grain. “Ava,” he said quietly. “My girlfriend is coming over tomorrow to discuss the engagement.” I paused for a second, then nodded. “Okay. That’s great. I’m meeting a friend tomorrow, so I won’t be home for dinner.” Ethan lowered his head and shoveled a large mouthful of rice into his mouth. We both knew the truth. Since the accident, the only place I ever went was the hospital. I’d lost touch with everyone I used to know. I didn’t have any friends. That night, my mother was in the bathroom, drawing my bath like she always did. I stood in the doorway, watching her back as she bent over to test the water temperature. “Mom.” “Can I grow my hair out?” She straightened up slowly and turned to look at me. “Why the sudden urge for long hair?” I looked at my reflection in the mirror. “Long hair… it can hide things.” “It’ll be harder for people to see that I don’t have any hands.” The towel in my mother’s hand dropped into the bathtub. It was a long moment before she bent to pick it up, rinsing it over and over under the running faucet. The sound of the rushing water covered her choked sobs. Her back was still to me when she spoke, her voice thick and nasal. “Of course you can. My sweet girl will be the most beautiful of all with long hair.” The next morning, the doorbell woke me. It wasn’t even eight o’clock. My mother hurried to the door. “Coming!” A bright, cheerful voice floated in. “Hi, Auntie! Sorry to be so early. My schedule changed, so I thought I’d come over and help out.” “My parents will be here a little later.” I sat up, pushing my bedroom door open with my foot. In the living room, a girl stood next to my brother. She had long, flowing hair and was holding a collection of elegant gift bags. She was smiling and talking to my mom, but when she heard me, she turned. Her eyes immediately fell on my shoulders. 2 I turned to go back into my room. But the girl, Claudia, walked towards me with a smile. “You must be Ava.” “Ethan talks about you all the time. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She pulled a pale gray scarf from one of the bags and gently draped it around my neck. “I saw this on a business trip. It’s cashmere, so soft.” “You have such fair skin; this color will look beautiful on you.” The scarf carried a faint, sweet perfume. I stood frozen, my toes curling unconsciously. “Thank you.” My brother and mother stood nearby, their expressions tense. I looked down, wanting to back away. “I’m sorry, I have plans today, so I won’t be staying for lunch.” Claudia’s hand rested lightly on my shoulder. “I’ve come by a few times, but I always seem to miss you. Today, you’re not getting away. We have to talk.” She smiled brightly. “Right, Ethan?” My brother looked at me. “Ava, maybe you could reschedule?” I gave a small, quiet nod. By the time I’d washed up and was sitting on the sofa, Claudia was already in the kitchen, wearing my mother’s apron and helping her cook. She moved with an easy confidence, chatting with my mom about something that made her laugh. Claudia placed a platter of fruit on the coffee table and sat down next to me. “You have such beautiful eyes, Ava. You should smile more.” I stretched the corners of my mouth, unsure of what to say. Claudia’s parents arrived soon after. They were well-dressed and polite, and the gifts they brought soon filled a corner of the coffee table. When lunch was served, I stood up. “I think I’ll just eat in my room. You all…” Claudia stopped me, pulling a chair closer to her own. “Sit here, next to me.” My mother opened her mouth to say something; my brother hesitated. In the end, I sat down. At first, the conversation was light, about the weather and preliminary wedding plans. Claudia put food on my plate, her actions so natural it was as if we’d known each other for years. Then, I expertly picked up my soup spoon with my toes. The smiles vanished from her parents’ faces. They put down their chopsticks and exchanged a look. The only sound at the table was Claudia, still talking, oblivious. After the meal, her father took a sip of tea. “Ethan is a good boy. We don’t have any special demands for the wedding; we just want you two to be happy.” He paused, his gaze slowly sweeping in my direction. “But we do have one condition. After you’re married, your new little family has to be your priority.” “Your sister has her parents to look after her. You can’t keep putting her first in everything.” My brother’s back went ramrod straight. “Sir, Ava is my sister. I will never, ever abandon her.” Her father held up a hand, cutting him off. “But you’re starting your own family. You can’t take care of her forever.” “I can!” “You can’t! Not if you want to marry my daughter.” The air in the room grew tight, suffocating. “He can.” All eyes turned to me. I stared at my empty sleeves and repeated myself. “My brother can do it.” Claudia shot to her feet. “Dad! What are you saying?” “I will never agree to that! From now on, Ava is my sister, too.” Her father’s voice rose sharply. “And what about you? What about your life? Will you always come second to her?” He grabbed her by the wrist. “We’re going home. Now.” Claudia was half-dragged, half-pushed towards the door. She looked back at me, tears streaming down her face. My brother pulled out a pack of cigarettes and went out onto the balcony. I heard the click of his lighter, once, twice, three times, before a flame finally caught. I watched him through the glass door. His back was hunched against the wind. Puffs of smoke billowed from his lips, only to be snatched away. In that moment, looking at my own dangling sleeves, a wave of nausea churned in my stomach. Suddenly, I hated myself. More than anything. 3 I was woken in the middle of the night by noises from the living room. I padded out barefoot. My brother was bent over, hurriedly putting on his shoes. “Ethan, where are you going?” He froze. “Claudia snuck out. She just called me from Memorial Park.” “I have to go get her.” I paused, then nodded. “It’s cold. Wear something warm.” He stood up and looked at me. “Go back to bed.” I managed a small smile. “I’ll wait up. To let you and Claudia in when you get back.” He smiled, too, and reached out to ruffle my hair. “Okay.” The door clicked shut behind him. One by one, the streetlights outside went out. The sky began to lighten. Ethan didn’t come back. When my mother woke up, she was startled to find me curled up on the sofa. “Ava? Why are you sleeping out here?” “Ethan went to get Claudia. He’s not back yet.” My mother dialed his number. It rang for a long time before he answered. As she listened, the color drained from her face. “Which hospital? We’re on our way!” She turned to me, her lips trembling. “Claudia… she was hit by a car.” The light outside the emergency room was a sterile, blinding white. When we arrived, we saw Ethan slumped against a wall. His clothes were dirty, and there was a dark bruise on his forehead. Claudia’s father, so composed yesterday, was now red-eyed, gripping the front of Ethan’s shirt. “This is your fault!” he roared. “All of it, you bastard!” “If it wasn’t for you, my daughter would never have run out in the middle of the night! She never would have been in this accident!” My mother stumbled forward, bowing again and again. “I’m so sorry. We’re truly so sorry.” Her voice trembled, tears already streaming down her face. “It’s our fault. We didn’t raise him right.” The man shoved Ethan away and pointed a finger at my mother. “Get out!” “Take your son, and that… cripple, and get out! And don’t you ever show your faces again!” “If anything happens to my Claudia, I swear I’ll make you pay!” We stood there for a long, silent time. Finally, the doors to the operating room swung open. A doctor came out, pulling off his mask. “The patient is stable for now, but she’ll need to be monitored.” Claudia’s parents rushed to his side. Ethan took a half-step forward, then stopped. My mother put a hand on his arm. “Let’s go. Let’s go home for now.” The car ride back was completely silent. Ethan gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. I sat in the back, staring at the back of his head. For a split second, I saw him quickly raise a hand and wipe at his eye. When we got home, I went straight to my room. I don’t know how much time passed before I heard a muffled sob from the living room. “Mom, it was me. It’s all my fault. I’m the one who hurt Claudia.” “If something really happens to her…” “Why didn’t I just agree yesterday? Why didn’t I just say yes?” His sobs grew louder, more ragged. And then, I heard his voice, ragged and hoarse:

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At the company gala, Finn, an intern, tossed a half-eaten scallop from his plate directly into his fiancée’s bowl. She picked it up and ate it without a second thought. That night, I tore our merger agreement into shreds and threw it in the trash. She took off her glasses, her face etched with exhaustion. “Over a single scallop?” “He gave it to you after he’d already taken a bite.” Sophia Walter scoffed. “Ethan Cole, I never realized you were so petty.” “Fine,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Let’s call off the wedding. Just don’t you dare come crawling back to me.” She was convinced I was so deeply in love with her that I could never let go. But I just smiled. “Deal. And whoever comes crawling back is a dog.” 01 The very next day, I asked my parents to find a new family for our corporate alliance. They were surprised but didn’t press for details, respecting my decision. As expected, Sophia initiated a cold war. Blocking my number, deleting me from her socials, cutting off all contact—she moved through the steps with the cold precision of a practiced routine. She was certain that, just like every other time, I would be the one to break the silence and come back to her. But this time, as I stared at the familiar friend request notification on my screen, I finally let it fade away without hitting ‘accept.’ A week later, a notification popped up in the company-wide group chat: “Tonight is Ms. Walter’s birthday celebration. Attendance is mandatory for all employees.” I went, if only to avoid making a scene. Pushing open the door to the private dining room, the first thing I saw was Sophia at the head of the table, with Finn leaning in so close his lips were practically brushing her ear. They were murmuring to each other, lost in a world of their own, a bubble no one else could penetrate. As they laughed, they leaned even closer, their faces a breath away from a kiss. I tore my gaze away, found a seat in the corner, and started drinking alone. Colleagues began presenting their gifts one by one, but I remained motionless. Eventually, a shadow fell over me. I looked up into Sophia’s beautiful face, now marred by a flicker of annoyance. “Ethan. Where’s my present?” In the past, I would have spent months preparing for this day. I once spent weeks meticulously building her a scale model of Howl’s Moving Castle, the one that actually walked. When the gears turned and smoke curled from its tiny chimneys, she had squeezed my hand and whispered, “We’ll be just like Sophie and Howl, finding our forever home in each other.” I believed her then. I never imagined her ‘forever’ wouldn’t even last three years. “I forgot,” I said, my voice flat. Sophia’s face darkened. “How long are you going to keep this up? Are you really this upset over such a small thing?” My eyes drifted to her lipstick, smeared slightly where Finn’s face had been. A wave of nausea rolled through me. “I’m not trying to make a scene. I’m serious about calling off the engagement.” Her expression froze for a fraction of a second, but she regained her composure the moment Finn’s hand found hers under the table. “Ethan, don’t misunderstand,” Finn explained softly, the picture of innocence. “I just didn’t want it to go to waste. If it bothers you that much, I can just wait until everyone’s finished eating at the next dinner.” His words instantly ignited Sophia’s protective instincts. “Finn, you deserve the best! The one who should leave is Ethan. Who does he think he is?” Finn walked over and patted my shoulder. “Come on, Ethan. Be the bigger man. Sophia hasn’t been sleeping well these past few days. I know you two have your differences, but you’re still engaged…” I swatted his hand away, a cold laugh escaping my lips. “You know what I admire most about you, Finn?” “You can play the victim and the villain at the same time, all while shamelessly hitting on another man’s fiancée.” The smile froze on Finn’s face. Sophia was instantly furious. “Ethan, how dare you slander him!” “Slander? Then why don’t you explain why every gift you’ve ever given me, he has an identical one? Why is it that every time we fight, he’s the one who makes sure the whole office knows about it? And how the hell does he know about the small scar high on your thigh—” “Enough!” The sharp crack of a slap echoed through the room. My left ear rang, and my vision swam. The only thing in focus was the sea of faces around me, their expressions a mix of pity and scorn, all directed at me. The ringing slowly subsided. It was replaced by Sophia’s voice, loud and clear, ringing with defiance. “From this day forward, I want everyone to like the photos of me and Finn together. Once we hit one thousand likes, I’m calling off this stupid engagement and marrying him instead.” Without another word, she grabbed Finn’s hand and stormed out of the room. As they passed me, Finn shot me a look of pure, undisguised triumph. After they left, the room began to empty. A sneering voice drifted back to me. “Served him right for pretending to be so magnanimous. He played his hand and lost. Too late for regrets now.” A colleague I was closer with leaned in and whispered, “Ethan, your pride isn’t worth it. Just go apologize. You can’t let her do something crazy in the heat of the moment…” I knew exactly what this was. Another test, another power play designed to make me bend. But this time, I wasn’t going to fold. Not even if it killed me. The once-boisterous room fell silent until I was the only one left. I picked up a half-full bottle of whiskey from the table and drained it, the fiery liquid scorching a path down my throat and into my stomach, the burn so intense it brought tears to my eyes. Nearly twenty years of my life had been tied to her. Cutting the cord, it turned out, just felt like this. Fine. I would accept the family’s new arrangement, move thousands of miles away to Bayside City for a new alliance, a new partnership. Far enough away that she could never bother me again. I didn’t know why, but my face was wet and cold again. Back at my apartment, I started to pack. Sophia and I were childhood sweethearts; most of my life was interwoven with hers. The place was filled with too many things, each one a hook pulling at a memory. This faded red paper flower. Her first prize in kindergarten. She had toddled over to me, her little legs churning, and placed it reverently in my palm. “Ethan, you get the best things!” This yellowed photograph. Her face flushed beet-red the day she got her first period. Having skipped health class, she thought she was dying and ran to me to deliver her last will and testament, telling me to find a girlfriend who wasn’t as pretty as her. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Once I figured out what was happening, I sprinted to the corner drugstore to buy pads. We sat together, puzzling over the instruction manual. I teased her for not paying attention in class, and she bit my arm in frustration. Strangely, it didn’t hurt. Instead, a secret, sweet warmth spread through my chest. After that, getting together was the most natural thing in the world. Different colleges meant four long years of long-distance. The thick stack of train tickets I’d saved was a testament to the hundred and twenty thousand miles I’d traveled for her. Back then, her world revolved around me. She would have crossed oceans for me without a single complaint. My fingers brushed against a small, hard box. Inside, a pair of simple, matching rings we had made together lay nestled in velvet. For her, I had moved back to this city without a moment’s hesitation after graduation. The day I returned, she dragged me to a jewelry workshop to forge these rings. She slid one onto my finger, her eyes sparkling. “Ethan Cole, you’re mine now. Trapped for life. Don’t even think about running away.” We both believed it then. That the sincerity of a vow spoken in a moment of pure love was enough to make it eternal. We never imagined she would be the first one to let go. The day Finn interviewed at the company, he was terrible. Sophia made no secret of her disdain. I, too, dismissed the applicant who lacked both the qualifications and the skills. But somehow, against all odds, he was hired as an intern. My real alarm bells started ringing when I saw the ring—our ring, the one that was supposed to be uniquely ours—on Finn’s finger. At first, when I confronted her, Sophia was patient, coaxing me with soft words and explanations. But soon, her patience wore thin, replaced by irritation. My constant willingness to forgive, to endure, to please her, only emboldened her favoritism toward Finn. The menu for company dinners was tailored exclusively to his tastes. He only had to show up to the office for half a day each week, spending the rest of his time with Sophia. Meanwhile, all his menial intern duties were unceremoniously dumped on me. She started bringing him up more and more often. It began as unconscious admiration, but soon she was openly comparing me to him, complaining that I wasn’t romantic enough, that my words weren’t sweet enough. Then came the day at a company coffee break. Sophia was raving about the milk tea she’d ordered. Finn leaned in and said he wanted a taste. Without a second thought, she offered him her cup, straw and all. He took a long drink, his lips touching the faint trace of her lipstick on the straw. What made my chest tighten was how she took it back and, completely unfazed, continued drinking from the very same straw. In that instant, it felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my heart, a sour, suffocating pressure that made it hard to breathe. From then on, Finn’s transgressions as an “intern” became unstoppable. He’d help with her skincare routine, personally applying lotion to her hands. When she sprained her ankle, he ignored me standing right beside her, hoisting her onto his back and rushing her to the infirmary. She even cancelled my birthday celebration, a dinner I had been planning for weeks, because Finn had a minor cold. Every time I expressed my displeasure, Sophia would lash out impatiently. “Ethan, you see the worst in everything! He’s just an intern, what could possibly happen between us? Stop projecting your own dirty thoughts onto everyone else!” But as time went on, the conviction in her voice began to waver. The final blow came during a major industry gala. The invitation explicitly stated to bring a partner. She went with Finn, without even telling me. I only found out after several people asked if we had broken up. When I confronted her, she was angrier than I was. “I took him so he could network and learn! Don’t interns need to learn? You’re a grown man, Ethan. Can you stop being so insecure?” We didn’t speak for a long time after that, so long that I thought it was truly the end. Then, late one night, a message from her popped up: “Honey, my stomach hurts so much…” And just like that, the wall of cold indifference I had tried so hard to build crumbled into dust. The terrible cycle began anew: I would confront her, she would get angry, I would back down and appease her, and she would forgive me. I snapped the ring box shut and threw it into the trash. In the deepest corner of a drawer, I found an apology note she had written me when she was eighteen, all because she had missed one of my texts. Back then, she truly cared. Now, the only person she had eyes for was the intern. I took out the yellowed letter, tore it into tiny pieces, and let them flutter into the garbage can. With decades of our shared history now cleared out, the apartment felt vast and empty. It felt like my heart had been hollowed out along with it. In the company group chat, photos of Finn celebrating Sophia’s birthday were flooding the feed. Colleagues, all too aware of Sophia’s preferences, were tripping over themselves to shower them with praise. “Ms. Walter and Finn are so cute together!” “Every girl needs a boyfriend like Finn. He’s so warm and attentive, not like Mr. Cole who always has a sour face on.” “Finn’s just an intern and he takes such good care of Ms. Walter. Now that’s what you call effort…” I couldn’t bear to look anymore. I picked up my phone and called my lawyer. “I want to pull all of my investments from the Walter Corporation.” The next day, I returned to the office to collect my personal belongings. I pushed open the door to my private lounge. And there was Finn, feet kicked up on my desk, wearing a pair of baggy shorts. His personal effects were strewn across the entire room. My things were piled in a heap in the hallway outside the door. Sophia had designed this lounge specifically for me. Everyone in the company knew it was my sanctuary, a place no one dared to enter without permission. What Finn was doing now was no different from dancing on my grave. I didn’t waste my breath arguing with him. I just took out my phone and called the police. In the mediation room at the station, Finn looked flustered. “I was just getting a file for Sophia. Did you really have to call the cops?” “That is my private space. Did I give you permission to enter?” “Entering without asking is called theft.” Finn didn’t argue, but his eyes suddenly welled with tears. I immediately sensed something was wrong. I turned, and sure enough, Sophia was standing behind me, her face a mask of cold fury. “Sophia!” Finn cried, practically throwing himself into her arms. “I was really just trying to get that file for you… I think Ethan really hates me. He’s insisting I’m a thief… My apartment is already overflowing with the gifts you’ve given me, why would I ever want any of his things?” This small room had once been my refuge. It was a gift from her after I built her the castle model. We had made so many memories here. I thought, at the very least, this place would be the last shred of dignity our relationship had left, a sanctuary that would remain untainted. But Sophia, with her own hands, had just shattered that final illusion. She stroked Finn’s back comfortingly, then turned to the officer. “It’s a misunderstanding. We’re all friends here. Sorry to have troubled you.” Then, her gaze fell on me, her voice dripping with ice and disgust. “Ethan, what has gotten into you? Acting like a bitter, jealous spouse, using your position to bully an intern. Does that make you feel powerful? You are a profound disappointment.” The accusations rained down on me. Before I could even speak, Finn chimed in again, his voice thick with a sob. “Sophia, don’t blame Ethan. It was my fault… It’s okay, I can go to jail for a few days. I don’t mind people laughing at me, as long as you two don’t fight because of me…” Sophia squeezed his hand, her eyes filled with pity. “Finn, you’re just too kind. That’s why people always take advantage of you.” She turned back to me, her tone hardening. “Ethan. Apologize to Finn. Now.” “He’s the one who trespassed in my private space. You want me to apologize to him, and you think he’s the one who’s been wronged?” The moment the words left my mouth, Finn’s quiet sobs started up again on cue. Sophia let out a cold laugh. “Your private space? Don’t forget, that lounge is property of the Walter Corporation. This entire building is mine. You only have permission to use it. And if you continue with this attitude, I have no problem pressing charges against you for filing a false report.” With that, she led Finn away to finalize the paperwork. Her words were like an icy drill, boring straight into my heart. A sharp pain, one I thought I was already numb to, flared up again. All these years, I had poured everything I had into supporting her company, thinking I was building our future together. And in the end, all I got was—You only have permission to use it. Before leaving, Sophia delivered her final warning. “By the way, the like count is at 990. If you don’t change your attitude, I will actually go and marry Finn.” I looked at Finn, who was hiding behind her, his eyes glinting with contempt. In that moment, the full, pathetic scope of my situation became clear. His tactics had always been clumsy. A woman as smart as Sophia couldn’t possibly have missed them. She had simply chosen to allow it. The scales in her heart had tipped long ago. This whole charade was nothing more than a play she and Finn had orchestrated to get rid of me, the inconvenient obstacle. And I was the fool who had kept begging for scraps. With that realization, the last embers of affection I held for Sophia were finally extinguished. In the days leading up to my move to Bayside City, a few gleeful colleagues kept messaging me. “994 likes! Your fiancée is about to be gone for good if you don’t wise up!” “Tsk tsk, 997! Looks like you’re destined to be alone, buddy.” “Wow, you’re really holding out this time, huh? Or are you just scared you can’t compete with Finn, so you’re running away with your tail between your legs? Haha!” I blocked and deleted them one by one, ignoring the taunts. When the like count stalled at 999 and I still hadn’t made a move, the atmosphere around Sophia grew dangerously cold. No one in the office dared to cast that final vote. Just as she was plotting her next move to force my hand, someone burst into her office. “Ms. Walter! The 1000th like… it’s done!”

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After a fight with my boyfriend, he video-called me from his dorm to apologize. In the background, his roommate scoffed: “What a pathetic simp. I’d never beg a woman like that in my life.” The next second, he walked past, and our eyes met through the screen. I found myself staring at my ex-boyfriend, whom I had broken up with a year ago. The last memory I had of him was the day we broke up. He was kneeling in front of me, eyes red, begging. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t leave me.” 1 I haven’t seen Liam in a year. He’s changed a lot. His features are still sharp, but the reckless arrogance has been replaced by a brooding steadiness. Our eyes locked for a second before he quickly looked away, sneering. “She’s nothing special.” Then he walked away. But as he left, he stumbled, his left foot catching his right, almost tripping. My boyfriend, Chase, wasn’t happy. He turned and yelled at him. “My baby is the most beautiful! You’re just jealous I have such a gorgeous girlfriend.” “Jealous? Bullshit.” Liam’s face darkened as he pulled out a chair and sat down. Chase turned back to the screen, voice soft. “Babe, don’t listen to his nonsense. I was wrong today. I really didn’t know you hated peeling shrimp. From now on, I’ll peel them all for you.” I didn’t say anything. He continued, “Didn’t you say you liked that new Chanel bag? And that watch you were eyeing? My mom is a VIC client, no waiting list. I’ll take you to get them tonight, okay?” I looked down at my nails. “Getting a manicure tonight. No time.” Chase’s voice remained gentle. “Then I’ll buy them and bring them to you. Do you like black or white?” “Both are nice. Can’t choose.” “Then I’ll buy both. Babe, please don’t be mad anymore? I’ll buy a bucket of crawfish and peel them for you too.” I finally nodded. “Fine, I forgive you this time. But don’t make me angry again.” Relief washed over Chase’s face, his smile returning. “I know. It won’t happen again.” If anyone saw Chase, the stoic Computer Science genius, acting this clingy and submissive, their jaws would drop. Liam sat nearby, staring at a blank phone screen. Every time we spoke, he’d let out a cold laugh, like a heckler in the audience. Finally, Chase couldn’t take it anymore. He turned around. “Liam, what’s your problem today?” Liam said coldly, “She’s this high-maintenance when you just started dating? You’re in for a world of pain. I advise you to break up now, or you’ll suffer later.” “I’m happy to suffer. It’s not your problem anyway.” Chase looked Liam up and down. “Liam, you usually don’t give a damn about girls. Why are you reacting so strongly to my girlfriend?” Liam’s face turned even darker. He sat there, stony-faced and silent. “Hang up,” I said, glancing at Liam’s collarbone. Suddenly, it all felt pointless. I didn’t want to flaunt my new relationship in front of my ex. It felt petty. I used to hate Liam. I used to imagine finding someone better and rubbing it in his face, showing him I didn’t need him. But now, I realized I had truly moved on. “Okay,” Chase kissed the screen. “I’ll pick you up for class later.” 2 I didn’t expect Liam to show up first. “Where’s Chase?” I looked behind him. “You said you didn’t have an umbrella. He went to buy you one.” Liam held his umbrella over my head, his expression grim. “How do you still not remember to bring an umbrella after all this time?” I ignored his question. “Why are you here?” His tone was aggressive. “I’m taking this class too. What, is that forbidden?” In the pouring rain, the umbrella cast a shadow over us, creating a small, isolated world. The scent of wet earth and freshly cut grass instantly pulled me back to the summer I was seventeen. I pouted, looking out the window at the torrential rain. “Liam, I just bought these sandals. They were expensive! They can’t get wet.” He looked impatient. “Why wear them if you knew it was going to rain?” “Because they look good! I wore them for our date. If you’re going to be mean, I won’t go out with you anymore!” “Fine, fine,” he sighed, squatting in front of me. “Hop on. I’ll carry you. You hold the umbrella, okay?” I smiled and jumped onto his back. The faint scent of mint and verbena on him mixed with the rain, creating a humid, earthy smell. I rested on his warm, dry shoulder, feeling the sting of the blisters from my new shoes fade away. Liam hefted me up. “Why are you so light? Did you skip meals again? Dieting secretly?” I mumbled, “It’s summer. I want to wear cute dresses. Don’t I look good skinny?” “You look like crap,” he tilted his head to dodge the umbrella I was struggling to hold up. “Skinny and ugly. Sarah, can you hold the umbrella properly? You hit me like three times!” “Oh.” I leaned close to his ear. “Do I really look ugly?” His face flushed red, the color spreading down his neck. He was speechless. I pressed my ear to his back, listening to his heart beat faster and faster. After a long while, a muffled voice came through the rain. “You look good. Happy?” Back then, I always felt that street was too short. So short that we’d arrive home before I finished talking, and I’d cling to him, dragging out the goodbye. But now, standing together, we had nothing to say. Chase arrived quickly. “The store didn’t have any nice umbrellas left, just this pink one. Use it for now, I’ll buy you a better one later.” He handed me the umbrella, then looked at Liam. Liam was holding his umbrella almost entirely over me, half his body soaked. His wet T-shirt clung to his collarbone, revealing a faint tattoo underneath. NZ “I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” Chase said curiously. “What is it? Your ex’s initials?” “Yeah.” Liam’s expression was blank. “You simp, and you have the nerve to call me one,” Chase smirked. “Funny coincidence, my girlfriend has a tattoo right there too.” Liam raised an eyebrow. “Really? You don’t mind?” “Mind what?” Chase didn’t catch the drift. “The tattoo? No, as long as she likes it.” Liam looked genuinely surprised. “She tattooed her ex’s name on her body, and you don’t mind?!” “What ex?” Chase looked at him. “It’s not an ex’s name. It’s a little fish.” Liam froze. Just then, a gust of wind blew my hair back, revealing the tiny, delicate fish tattooed on my collarbone. Liam stopped dead in his tracks, staring intensely at the fish. As if trying to see through the ink to the name buried underneath. 3 When I decided to get the tattoo, Liam mocked me for ages. “You? You cry for three days over a paper cut. A tattoo? Go home and drink your milk.” I wasn’t having it. “You got one, why can’t I? If only you have one, it’s not a couple’s tattoo!” “Fine,” Liam ruffled my hair, took out a pen, and wrote three letters on my wrist: HYC (Liam’s initials). “There, couple’s tattoo. Go play.” He was right. I was terrified of pain. I hesitated for a long time, finally deciding to do it on his birthday. Liam didn’t lie. It hurt like hell. I regretted it instantly, tears swirling in my eyes. The artist kept handing me tissues. “Almost done, just hang on.” But seeing Liam’s reaction made it all worth it. At first, he smirked. “Nice tattoo sticker. Looks real.” But when he touched it, he froze. I thought he’d be happy. “Looks good, right? I thought about the design for ages!” Liam didn’t speak. He just stared. After a long time, he hugged me tightly. So tight I couldn’t breathe. I pushed him. “Liam, stop! It hurts!” His voice trembled. “You’re so scared of pain. Why did you do it?” I grinned. “Because it’s your name. It doesn’t hurt.” After a silence, he sighed softly. “Idiot.” “Liam,” I teased him. “I heard laser removal hurts way more than getting a tattoo. Don’t break up with me, or I’ll have to suffer twice.” He looked me in the eye. “Never. We will never break up. “I won’t let you hurt again.” I laughed. I believed him. We grew up together. He had always been good to me. I was spoiled and dramatic, and even my mom said Liam enabled all my bad habits. She’d say, “Treat him well. Don’t always boss him around. If he gets fed up, you’ll never find anyone who treats you this well again!” I swore, “No way. Liam said he’d never leave me!” I genuinely believed nothing could separate us. I didn’t know that six months later, we would be strangers. When I went to cover the tattoo, I looked out the window at a fish swimming in a bowl and changed my mind. “Make it a little fish.” From now on, I’d be fine on my own. 4 The rain hadn’t stopped when class ended. My shoelace had come undone, and I frowned, shaking my foot. Liam instinctively squatted down to tie it. Chase, who had just lit a cigarette, clamped it in his mouth and squatted down, shoving Liam aside. “What are you doing?” He squinted at Liam through the smoke. “My girlfriend’s shoe is untied. Why are you squatting?” Liam’s outstretched hands froze in mid-air. He seemed to have forgotten that he was no longer the person entitled to tie my shoes. Chase looked away and quickly tied a perfect bow. He used to be clumsy too. I always complained his knots were ugly. Now he was practiced. Just like Liam used to be. And the first real fight I ever had with Liam was about tying shoelaces. … The first time I met Ruby, it was at Liam’s house. Liam had a serious illness as a child and needed frequent blood transfusions. He had Rh-null blood—”Golden Blood”—making donors scarce. Once, he almost died from blood loss. His parents spent a fortune finding donors. Ruby was brought by her parents, a pair of compulsive gamblers who saw a cash cow. They didn’t care that she was just a child. Liam’s mom couldn’t bear it and only took 400cc, finding other donors to make up the rest. But Ruby’s parents saw an opportunity. Every time Liam needed blood, they brought Ruby. Sometimes, desperate, Liam’s parents had no choice but to accept. You could say Ruby saved Liam’s life. But after Liam recovered, Ruby got sick. Her parents neglected her. A teenager, she looked like a ten-year-old. The frequent blood donations destroyed her health. Afraid she’d become a burden, her parents abandoned her. The Hendersons (Liam’s family), grateful for her help and pitying her, paid for her treatment at a sanatorium. When she recovered, they took her in. They didn’t formally adopt her, but she lived like a daughter. She received the same treatment as Liam. Ruby wasn’t pretty. She was plain, a bit countrified, and had a limp from an old injury. Liam’s parents transferred her to our school and told Liam to take care of her. At first, I pitied her. She knew nothing, didn’t even have a uniform. When kids mocked her worn-out dress, I lent her my spare uniform. In badminton class, when no one partnered with her, I volunteered. I liked Liam. She saved Liam. So I was nice to her. Until I noticed her feelings for Liam were… off. She always tagged along on our dates, saying she had no friends. Liam, soft-hearted, let her come. After school, she walked with us, saying people mocked her limp. Liam couldn’t bring himself to chase her away. Over time, our couple time disappeared. It was always the three of us. I complained to Liam multiple times. He was helpless. “She’s new and adjusting. Once she makes friends, it’ll be fine.” I believed him, until the shoelace incident. I went to find Liam to walk home, only to see him squatting on the ground, tying Ruby’s shoelace. The setting sun stretched their shadows long. Ruby’s plain face was flushed, her expression tender. Like a scene from an anime. Rage flared. I rushed up and shoved Liam. “What are you doing?!” Liam stumbled. “Ruby’s shoe came untied. Her leg hurts, she can’t squat. I’m helping her.” Maybe I was sensitive. But tying shoelaces felt too intimate. I kicked Liam. “If she can’t squat, she shouldn’t wear shoes with laces! Is she going to make you tie them every time?!” Liam was confused. “Why are you making a big deal out of this? It’s just tying a shoe. I’ve done it for you.” I felt wronged. “Am I the same as her?!” Ruby looked panicked. “Sarah, don’t be like this. My leg really hurts. Be mad at me, not Liam. I won’t let him do it again. I’ll do it myself!” She tried to squat but lost her balance and fell hard, face paling in pain. Liam rushed to help her up, then turned and yelled at me. “Is this necessary?!” It was the first time he yelled at me. For another girl. Tears welled up. “Liam, I’m breaking up with you!” … The cold war lasted three hours, ending with Liam apologizing. In the pouring rain, he stood downstairs with my favorite cake. Even my mom felt bad. “That’s enough. Let him in before he gets sick.” I went down reluctantly with an umbrella. Liam’s black hair was plastered to his forehead, water dripping from his lashes. His voice was raspy. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. She saved my life, I have to look out for her, but I promise it won’t happen again.” He held my hands, his palms warm in the cold rain. “Forgive me, okay?” I glared at him, still a bit angry. “From now on, you only tie my shoelaces.” Liam laughed. “Fine. Only yours. You really are my little ancestor.” He hugged me gently. “And you can’t just break up with me whenever. Who else is going to tie your shoes?” I raised an eyebrow. “Plenty of people! Don’t be ungrateful!” It was true. Plenty of guys chased me after we broke up. I believed any of them would do it. Including Chase, who treated me no worse than Liam did back then. Chase stood up, the ash on his cigarette long and precarious. I reached out, took a drag, and shared the Marlboro menthol with him right in front of Liam. He held me, smoke swirling between our lips, creating a barrier against Liam. Liam’s eyes darkened. “You let her smoke?” Chase exhaled a cloud of smoke, looked Liam up and down, and said: “She can do whatever she wants. Who am I to control her?” “But you, Liam… you seem a little too concerned about my girlfriend.” … After Liam left with a black face, Chase walked me back to the dorm. I decided to tell him about my history with Liam. Chase finished his cigarette and smiled. “I guessed. I’m not blind. He’s obvious. Usually so cool, but loses his soul when he sees you.” “You aren’t mad?” “Mad about what?” He tossed the butt in the bin. “You broke up with him and chose me. Doesn’t that mean I’m better? Besides, I know you, Sarah.” He tilted the umbrella toward me. “You look soft, but your heart is harder than anyone’s. Once you’re done, you don’t look back.” We locked eyes, rain falling around the umbrella. “So I won’t give you a reason to break up with me.” Chase put a hand in his pocket and lowered his head to kiss me. The lingering taste of menthol and rain filled my senses. I looked up, accepting his gentle but firm advance. The world went blank for a moment, as if only we existed. When he pulled back, I was lightheaded from lack of oxygen. I heard Chase chuckle as he wiped the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “Not enough? Want another one?” I blushed and pretended to kick him, but as I moved my leg, I saw Liam. In the torrential rain, he stood under a black umbrella, watching us. Who knows how long he had been there.

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