I fell into a deep sleep that winter, only to awaken in another, seven years later. Dressed in a hospital gown and a tattered coat borrowed from a nurse, I was wandering the streets like a beggar when I saw him: my husband, giving an interview on a major financial news network. The reporter asked, “Mr. Holub, looking back on your journey, is there anyone you’re most grateful for?” My husband smiled. “There are many people I have to thank—my parents, the friends who built this company with me. But most of all,” he paused, his gaze softening, “I want to thank my wife.” “Aurora Bell.” 1 “I’m sorry, Ms. Hayes, but with no family member available to cover the subsequent cryogenic preservation fees, the Institute had no choice but to initiate an early reanimation.” I opened my eyes in a haze, assuming thirty years had passed. That winter, my battle with brain cancer had left me with a shaved head. “Leo, don’t look. I’m hideous.” At the time, medical science had no cure. To save my life, Leo Holub had placed me in a cryo-chamber, signing a thirty-year preservation agreement. He arranged for monthly payments to be made from his account. He’d said paying monthly would be a way to remember me every month. He signed for thirty years, promising that if he were gone before then, he’d leave his entire estate to continue the payments, enough to keep me preserved until a cure was found. If he was still alive after thirty years, he’d renew for another thirty, and another, until the day they could finally heal me. “What are you afraid of? You’re not hideous,” he’d said, gently caressing my cheek. “You always said a shaved head is the ultimate test of beauty. You’re just as beautiful now as you’ve always been.” “Besides,” he’d added with a soft smile, “by the time I get to wake you up, I’ll probably be a wrinkled old man. You’d better not find me too repulsive then, Winter.” “How long was I in the chamber?” On the front desk, I saw a business journal. On the cover was Leo, dressed in a tailored black suit, his tie knotted perfectly, leaning casually in an armchair. My Leo. Still so young, so handsome. “Ms. Hayes, the current date is December 1st, 2027. You entered cryo-sleep on December 25th, 2020. Because the payment for November was not received from the designated account, we chose to reanimate you this month.” “Also,” the receptionist added, “we’ll need you to settle the outstanding balance for November. The total is fifteen thousand dollars.” Fifteen thousand. That same cursed number. Once, for fifteen thousand dollars, my own father had nearly sold me to an old man. Now, for that same amount, I had lost my only hope for a future. “Did you try calling my husband?” I asked, confused. “He would have paid.” I used the Institute’s public phone and dialed Leo’s number from memory. It connected. “Leo, it’s me. It’s Winter,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. Seven years, Leo. Though for me it was merely the blink of an eye, for him it had been thousands of real, waking days. My heart ached for him. “Winter? Summer? I don’t know anyone by that name. You got the wrong number, lady!” a gruff, unfamiliar voice with a thick accent grumbled back, laced with irritation. Did I dial it wrong? I tried again, and again. The same man answered, his voice growing angrier with each call, until he was shouting. “I said you got the wrong number! Are you deaf?” On my last attempt, the call wouldn’t go through. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed has been disconnected.” That’s when I finally understood. Leo had changed his number. 2 Leo never changed his number. He had promised me he wouldn’t, seven years ago. It was the autumn of 2020. The illness made me perpetually cold, and my vision was failing. I was walking to the hospital for a check-up, alone. At first, I could still make out the shapes of the sweet autumn blossoms lining the road, the hurried pedestrians, the children with their backpacks. Then, the world went dark, leaving only the lingering fragrance of the flowers. A kind stranger helped me to a bench. I didn’t dare move. The stranger tried calling Leo for me, dialing over a dozen times. No answer. “You can go,” I told them. “Thank you. My husband is probably busy. He’ll see the missed calls and come find me. I’ll just wait here.” After they left, I sat on that bench from morning until nightfall, terrified that if I moved, Leo would never find me. I just kept waiting. “Winter!” I turned my head toward the sound, my eyes vacant. The moment he saw them, he knew. I was blind. “Have you been waiting long?” He covered my eyes with his hands. “I was in meetings all day, I didn’t check my phone. It won’t happen again.” He took my hand, wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and guided me home. “It won’t happen again,” he’d repeated. “I’ve set your number to a priority contact, and I’ve set my number as the emergency contact on your phone. If you can’t see and can’t use the screen, just hit the emergency call button.” He guided my finger to the button on my phone, and his own phone began to ring. “My number will never change. I’ll always be the first person you can reach.” Nothing is forever. I picked up a discarded walking stick from the Institute’s lost and found, borrowed a winter coat from the receptionist, and left. Walking the streets, the city felt both familiar and alien. The roads were the same, but the storefronts were all different. Then I looked up and saw his face on a massive screen. Leo. He was still so young. Seven years had barely left a trace on him. In fact, like a fine wine, he had only grown more distinguished with time. The host was asking him, “Mr. Holub, who are you most grateful to for your incredible success?” “I have so many people to thank,” he said. “My parents, my friends and partners who struggled alongside me. But the person I am most grateful for is my wife.” He paused. “My wife, Aurora Bell.” “She has been my silent, unwavering support through it all.” On the screen, Leo’s smile was as gentle as it was the day he sent me into the cryo-chamber, as if he truly, deeply loved his wife. This woman named Aurora Bell. “So romantic,” a young woman passing by gushed to her friend. “I want a man like that someday.” I stared at the screen, desperately searching his face for any sign that this wasn’t him, but there was none. The faint scar above his eyebrow, the mole at the corner of his eye—every detail screamed that it was Leo. I pinched my thigh, hard. The pain was real. This wasn’t a dream from my long sleep. It was all real. Seven years later, Leo Holub had a new love in his life. Only I was still frozen in the past. I’ve always been the one left waiting. When I was five, my mother stroked my hair and said, “Mommy’s going to work. I’ll bring you back your favorite cotton candy.” The cotton candy at the street vendor was bigger than my five-year-old head. I waited excitedly all day, but all I got that evening was my father’s slap. My mother had run away. She never came back. The second time, I was seventeen. My bedridden grandmother suddenly found a burst of energy and promised to make me my favorite eggplant buns the next day. I sat on a stool by the stove, watching her knead the dough and prepare the filling. But the next day, the dough was still dough, the filling still filling. My grandmother had passed away in the night. The third time is now. I waited in a cryo-chamber, only to find Leo had married someone else. I wait, only to be abandoned. 3 I found my way to Leo’s company building. The receptionist was new. She looked me up and down. “Who are you? Who are you here to see? Do you have an appointment?” “No appointment. I’m here for Leo Holub.” I pulled the tattered coat tighter around myself. The December air was frigid. Cancer had wasted me down to skin and bones, and my head was still bare. “I’m his wife.” “His wife?” She scoffed at my appearance. “Ma’am, if you’re going to lie, at least come up with a better one.” She gestured with her chin toward a sofa. “And at least dress the part. There’s no way Mr. Holub’s wife would look like… you.” Her eyes scanned me from head to toe before she rolled them. “I really am his wife! We were married ten years ago!” “Do your homework before you try to scam someone. Mr. Holub has only been married for three years!” She waved over security. “Get her out of here. She’s bad for the company’s image.” Leo and I got our marriage license ten years ago, right after I turned twenty. It was partly for love, but also because I needed to escape my family. After my mother left, my father took up drinking and gambling. While my grandmother was alive, she could scrape together enough from odd jobs for my tuition, but after she died, the burden fell on me. I went to school during the day and worked as a tutor or at a bubble tea shop at night. My father would often steal my wages from my room. After he cleaned me out one time, I started giving my savings to Leo for safekeeping. We’d been together for three years by then. One day, while I was at work, my father called and said he’d fallen and hurt his leg. When I got home, I found a strange man in our apartment, his face flushed from drinking. He tried to drag me into the bedroom. My father had sold me for fifteen thousand dollars. I fought back with a knife, bit the man’s hand until I drew blood, and ran all the way to Leo’s apartment. “We should just get married,” he said, looking at me. “Then if your father ever tries to sell you again, he’ll have to go through me first.” He broke off a stem of a gardenia from a plant in the corner, fashioned it into a ring, and slid it onto my finger. “Someday, when I’ve made it, I’ll get you a real one.” He knelt on one knee. “Winter Hayes,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “will you marry the man in front of you? For richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, I will love you always. Not even death can do us part.” “I will,” I’d whispered, marrying my love. “Please, don’t throw me out,” I begged the security guards now. “Just let me make one phone call to him. Just one.” I smashed a glass display case on the counter and held a shard to my own neck. Everyone froze. The receptionist, trembling, dialed the CEO’s office. “Hello, who is this?” A woman’s voice answered. “I need to speak to Leo Holub. Tell him it’s Winter,” I cried, my voice frantic and desperate. “It’s Winter!” “I’m sorry, I don’t know you,” the woman said, her tone languid and superior. “And I’m sure Leo… he wouldn’t know you either.” “Aurora, who is it?” I could faintly hear a man’s voice in the background. “No one important. Probably a wrong number,” the woman’s voice replied, muffled. “Leo, darling, you get back to work. I won’t disturb you.” The glass shard fell from my hand, leaving a thin line of blood on my neck. Security guards swarmed me, dragging me out of the building and dumping me on the sidewalk. Through a blur, I thought I saw the flash of cameras. How would they write about me online? A fraud claiming to be Leo Holub’s wife? A delusional fan? My vision failed again, the tumor’s symptoms flaring up with the extreme stress. I collapsed to the ground, helpless. I couldn’t find my way. Leo, I can’t find my way home again.

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1 Everyone said my husband, Rovan, and his childhood sweetheart, Selina, were sworn enemies. On our wedding day, she was the one person he pointedly didn’t invite. That all changed the night I went into labor. Rovan gently placed a pill in my mouth, whispering that it was for the pain. As my senses blurred, a sob broke through the door. “Rovan, the puppy you gave me… she’s not going to make it.” Rovan’s voice, softer and more tender than I had ever heard it, flowed like honey. “Don’t worry, Selina.” “I gave her something. She’ll be able to nurse soon. Bring your puppy in.” Selina’s voice was laced with worry. “But she hasn’t even had the baby yet. Forcing it with medication… it could be dangerous for her and the child.” Rovan’s tone turned to ice. “Then she shouldn’t have taken so long to give birth, leaving our puppy without milk. This is her own fault.” “As for the baby,” he added with chilling finality, “if he can save our dog’s life, it will be his greatest honor.” Every word was a needle piercing my heart. When I woke again, the searing pain in my chest confirmed the nightmare was real. I wiped the tears from my face and dialed the encrypted number. “Dad,” I choked out, “I’ve changed my mind. I’m ready to leave him and keep the baby.” … The next day, I was jolted awake by a fresh wave of agony. My eyes flew open to the garish splash of crimson staining the sheets beneath me, a brutal confirmation that this was no dream. I dragged myself to the door, my hand hovering over the handle when the voices outside froze me in place. “Offering a bounty for your own son’s heart’s blood… you’re really something else, Rovan,” Selina’s voice purred. Rovan let out a contemptuous laugh. “What choice do I have?” “After last night’s medication, the thing in her belly is probably defective. The Sterling family can’t have a stain like that on its name. I’m just cutting my losses.” Selina playfully punched his chest. “Just because I was going abroad, you had to marry someone else? And get her pregnant? What am I to you, really?” Rovan caught her hand, pulling her into his arms. “Are you jealous?” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “She’s just a placeholder. Besides, the kid isn’t even mine. On our wedding night, I paid some homeless guy off the street.” My body, pressed against the door, went rigid. My blood turned to ice. “Two hundred bucks, and she got knocked up with some stray’s kid,” he added, his voice dripping with the kind of disdain you’d reserve for trash. The sharp cramps in my belly were nothing compared to the agony ripping through my heart. The conversation outside continued. “I even recorded it.” “The way she acted… if she ever dares to disobey me, I’ll make sure the whole world gets a look.” “Send it to me! I have to see what the prim and proper Mrs. Sterling looks like behind closed doors,” Selina said, her voice giddy with excitement. “What’s the rush? Good things are meant to be shared. The guys are all waiting for a copy.” “All seven of them? You’re that generous?” “She’s just a toy. I never thought of her as my wife. Selina, the only one I’ve ever loved is you.” Each word was a poisoned blade, hacking my heart to pieces. I slid down the door, a warm, slick feeling spreading between my legs. The sounds of their grotesque panting filled the air; they couldn’t even wait to find a room. A violent pain tore through my abdomen. I tried to stand, but my limbs were useless. I don’t know how much time passed before the door was thrown open. Rovan saw me in the pool of blood, his pupils shrinking. “Eleanor!” he yelled, scooping me into his arms. In the last moment before darkness consumed me, I saw the panic etched on his face. I managed to twist my lips into a silent, bitter sneer. Rovan, who are you still performing for? When I woke again, the world was a blinding, sterile white. Rovan immediately grabbed my hand, his voice thick with fake concern. “Eleanor, how are you feeling?” The sight of his face made my stomach churn. I yanked my hand away. My other hand flew to my belly, a desperate, searching motion. I didn’t care who the father was; this was my child. Rovan misunderstood my panic. “The baby’s fine,” he rushed to assure me. “The doctor said you were just overwhelmed by stress.” I stared at him, my gaze as cold as a tombstone. “My due date is today. Why haven’t I delivered?” A flash of panic crossed his face. “Maybe… maybe the baby wants to stay with mommy a little longer.” I let out a hollow, mocking laugh. Just then, the hospital room door opened. Selina walked in, cradling a tiny puppy, her eyes fixed on Rovan with a look of pure distress. “Rovan, our puppy… she’s not doing well again.” He instantly took the dog from her and turned to me. “Eleanor, this dog means the world to Selina. Can you… can you please help her?” A cold smirk touched my lips. “How? By taking another one of your lactation pills like last night?” Rovan’s face paled. “You know?” I didn’t answer, just kept my eyes locked on him, a silent accusation. Suddenly, Selina fell to her knees in front of me, banging her head on the floor. “Eleanor, please don’t blame Rovan for last night! It was my fault, all my fault!” she wailed. “This puppy was his coming-of-age gift to me. I can’t just watch her die! Please, help me, I’m begging you!” Her forehead was already starting to bleed. Rovan, his face twisted with pain, pulled her up and glared at me. “I never knew you could be so cruel, just watching her beg you like this,” he snarled. “It’s just a little milk. It won’t cost you anything.” I clenched my jaw, refusing to let them see me break. “Never.” Selina’s eyes welled up with fresh tears. Suddenly, Rovan’s hand shot out, clamping around my neck as he forced another white pill into my mouth. It dissolved instantly, impossible to spit out no matter how much I gagged and struggled. A wave of unnatural heat washed over me. He approached with the puppy, ripped open my hospital gown, and exposed my chest. “Rovan, you can’t do this to me! You can’t treat me like some animal!” I screamed. His hand trembled for a second, but he still brought the whimpering puppy to my breast. When I thrashed wildly, he actually produced a pair of handcuffs and locked my wrist to the bed frame. I was completely powerless. I looked down in horror as the tiny animal latched on, its sharp teeth tearing at my sensitive skin. A searing pain ripped through me. I shrieked, my cries echoing in the sterile room, but Rovan just watched, his expression cold and unmoved. When it was finally over, I stared blankly at the ceiling, my spirit shattered. Rovan started to speak, but Selina suddenly went pale, swaying on her feet. “Rovan, my head… it hurts so much.” Without a second’s hesitation, he spun around, caught her as she fell, and rushed out of the room, carrying her in his arms. He never gave me a single backward glance. My heart plunged into an icy abyss. The drugs forced my due date back, day by day. With every check-up, the doctor’s eyes were filled with a pity I couldn’t bear. When I was finally discharged and returned home, I found Selina lounging on the living room sofa as if she owned the place. Rovan wasn’t surprised to see me. “Selina was injured and needs someone to look after her. She’ll be staying here from now on.” His words were a final, decisive blade, severing the last thread of hope I had left. “Fine,” I said, my voice utterly devoid of emotion. Arguing was pointless. He wouldn’t listen anyway. Why waste my breath? I ate my dinner in silence and went upstairs. That night, Rovan came into the room, reeking of Selina’s cloyingly sweet perfume. He cleared his throat and held out a bracelet. “I know you’ve had a rough few days. I bought this especially for you.” He tried for a softer tone. “I’ve always seen Selina as a sister. That dog is just… so important to her. I couldn’t let it die.” I took the bracelet without a word. He immediately pulled me into an embrace, his lips finding mine. “I knew you’d understand, honey. You’re the best.” I stared at a dark corner of the room, a glacial smile forming on my lips. The next morning, Selina blocked my path at the top of the stairs. She was holding that wretched dog, her hand outstretched. “The bracelet Rovan gave you last night. Give it back.” I took a step back. “My husband gave that to me. Why should I give it to you?” She let out a derisive snort. “It was a free gift that came with the necklace he bought me. They’re a set. I thought the bracelet was ugly, so he gave it to you. Now I’ve changed my mind. Hand it over.” Her voice was triumphant, completely certain I would bend to her will. Even though I thought I was prepared for anything, her words felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing my heart. The warmth he’d offered was nothing more than someone else’s discarded trash. “He gave it to me,” I said, my voice hoarse. “It’s mine now. If you want it back, have him ask me for it himself.” Before the words were even out of my mouth, she did the unthinkable. She hurled the puppy down the marble staircase. A sickening thud, and the yelping stopped. “Baby!” Selina shrieked, stumbling down the stairs. She collapsed beside the dog’s lifeless body, cradling it in her arms. Rovan rushed out, drawn by the commotion. The moment she saw him, Selina scrambled to her feet, clutching the dead dog, and started for the door. “I’m going home,” she whimpered. Sensing something was wrong, Rovan grabbed her arm. “Selina, what is it? What happened?” That was all it took. She collapsed into his chest, sobbing hysterically. “Rovan… our baby… our dog… I know she hates me, but she should have taken it out on me! Why… why did she have to do this to my puppy? He was my life!” Her grief was a spectacular performance. Rovan froze for a second, then his gaze shot to me, instantly turning venomous. He lunged, grabbing a handful of my hair and dragging me in front of Selina. My scalp screamed in protest. “Apologize to her!” he roared. I hung my head, my silence a defiant refusal. His patience snapped. “You brought this on yourself,” he hissed, his eyes flashing with a brutal light. He kicked the back of my knee, hard. I collapsed, my kneecaps slamming against the cold floor with a dull crack. The next moment, his leather shoe was grinding into my spine, forcing me to my knees. Selina’s sobs grew louder. “Baby was my child! She killed my child! Even if she apologizes, I’ll never forgive her!” “Then what do you want, Selina?” Her voice was pure poison. “A life for a life. She killed my child, so she’ll pay with hers!” My pupils contracted. A raw scream tore from my throat. “Rovan, this is my baby!” A flicker of something—doubt? regret?—crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “A life for a life, Eleanor. This is all your fault.” He yanked me to my feet. In a moment of pure, desperate rage, I lunged forward and bit down on his hand, hard. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. He roared in pain, his face contorting, and backhanded me across the face. I fell to the floor, stunned. Then his foot came up, slamming into my chest. Pain exploded through me. I curled into a ball, unable to move, unable even to draw a breath without a tearing sensation. Selina calmly handed him a thick wooden rod. “Rovan, she dared to attack you. Use this. Get rid of the bastard in her stomach.” Rovan gripped the rod, his knuckles white. For a heartbeat, he hesitated. “Selina, maybe we should just… let it go. This isn’t easy for her.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Rovan, do you love her now?” she whispered brokenly. “Have you forgotten? This was your gift to me. This was our baby.” His resolve hardened. “Fine. Then just let her apologize.” Selina smiled, a slow, cruel curve of her lips. She lifted her foot, showing me the dirt on her expensive shoe. “If you want me to forgive her, fine. Let her kneel down and lick my shoe clean. Then I might consider letting her and that thing in her belly live.” The thought of my baby, who hadn’t even had a chance to see the world, spurred me into action. I pushed through the agony, my body screaming in protest, and began to crawl towards her. A sharp, twisting pain shot through my abdomen, as if my child was silently begging me to stop. But this was my baby. And I had failed to protect him. I closed my eyes, squeezed them shut against the humiliation, and lowered my head. I licked her shoe clean. When I was done, she nodded with satisfaction. “You’re certainly good with your mouth. No wonder you got pregnant with a bastard on the first try.” She laughed, a sharp, ugly sound, tugging on Rovan’s arm. “Rovan, darling, we can let her live, but she has to pay. She’ll stay here all night and pray for my little baby’s soul.” Rovan didn’t object. He simply turned and left with her. I collapsed onto the floor, every ounce of strength gone. The pain in my stomach intensified, and the bleeding grew worse. “Don’t be afraid, little one,” I whispered, fumbling for my phone. “Mommy’s going to get us help.” My fingers trembled as I tried to dial, but the screen was dead. No signal. The next second, a flicker of orange caught my eye. Flames were leaping up from a corner of the room, and thick, acrid smoke began to fill the air. I bit my tongue, the sharp pain clearing my head for a moment. I crawled towards the main door, banging on it with what little strength I had left, but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked from the outside. The heat was becoming unbearable, sweat pouring down my face. The fire crept closer, a hungry, roaring beast. The door remained sealed. I slumped against it, my hand resting on my belly. I’m so sorry, baby. Mommy couldn’t protect you. My vision blurred, the world dissolving into smoke and shadows. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I passed out. As Rovan was led away by Selina, a profound unease settled over him. He turned his head and saw a sight that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

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I was on a business trip when I got the text: the power bill was past due. A wave of confusion washed over me. The bill was insanely high for this month, which made no sense. My wife and I were both out of town. The apartment should have been empty. I opened the utility company’s app and checked the daily usage. Sure enough, there was a steady draw every single day, and it wasn’t small. It looked like someone was running the air conditioner around the clock. I called my wife, Chloe. “Hey, when are you getting back?” Her sweet voice chirped on the other end. “Probably not until next week. It’s been raining nonstop, so the project’s delayed. What’s up? Miss me?” I told her I missed her too, but my fingers were already booking the first flight home for the morning. My own project had wrapped up early anyway. I decided not to tell her I was coming back ahead of schedule. 1 That exorbitant power bill was the first alarm. My immediate thought was that someone had broken in. I pulled up the smart lock app on my phone. But after checking the access log, I saw nothing. The door hadn’t been opened a single time in the last two weeks. My mind raced. Maybe a neighbor had messed with the wiring, siphoning our electricity. But this was an affluent area. It seemed beneath the residents here to commit a felony over a few hundred dollars on a utility bill. Still, I couldn’t think of any other explanation. Since my project was done, I caught the earliest flight the next morning and headed home. The apartment was empty, just as I expected. Chloe wasn’t there. I checked the drawers where we keep our valuables. Nothing was missing. That ruled out a simple burglary. Then I opened the closet. All of Chloe’s usual work clothes were gone. She was definitely on her business trip. After some thought, I went down to the building’s management office and asked them to check the wiring to my unit. “My power bill is through the roof,” I explained. “The apartment’s been empty, but we’ve racked up a three-hundred-dollar bill in two weeks.” The security guard on duty, a young guy with a friendly smile, nodded. “You got it, sir. I’ll get an electrician up there for you right away.” I led the guard and the electrician upstairs. The moment we got to the utility closet in the hall, I knew my neighbor-thief theory was dead. The meter box was locked. No one living in a building like this would go to such lengths just to steal a little electricity. I was back to square one. If it wasn’t a wiring issue, what the hell was going on? The electrician opened the panel and, after a few minutes of checking things over, turned to me. “Sir, I’ve had a look. There’s nothing wrong with your circuit.” I nodded, scrambling for a plausible excuse. “Okay, thanks. We must have forgotten to turn off the AC before we left.” The security guard smiled, revealing two prominent canines that gave him a boyish look. “Alright, sir. Just give us a call if you need anything else!” I nodded back. Back in the apartment, I searched every room again, turning the place upside down. There was no sign that anyone else had been there. Was the place haunted? I was lying on the bed, exhausted, when I heard the front door click open. I shot upright, grabbing the heavy vase from the nightstand and ducking behind the bedroom door. Was it the person who’d been squatting here? But then I heard the familiar rattle of a rolling suitcase. I lowered the vase and stepped out. It was Chloe. Her face lit up when she saw me. “Honey! You’re back early too!” She threw her arms around me, burying her face in my chest. I was confused. “I thought you said your project was delayed.” “It was,” she said, pulling back. “The rain in Austin just wouldn’t let up. We were just wasting the company’s money sitting around, so our boss sent us home.” I nodded. That made sense. Her work was primarily setting up outdoor exhibitions. A second later, she looked at me with a playful smile. “So, what about you? What’s your excuse for coming home early?” It’s not that I’d never had a flicker of doubt about Chloe, but I’d never found anything to substantiate it. Besides, she was also linked to the utility app; she’d see the bill eventually. I decided to tell her the truth. “The power bill was crazy high, even with both of us gone,” I said. “I was worried someone had gotten in, so I came back to check. I didn’t want to worry you.” To my surprise, Chloe giggled. “Oh, that! It’s because we forgot to turn off the AC when we left! I only noticed it yesterday and shut it off remotely.” A wave of relief washed over me. So it was all just a false alarm. But later that night, after dinner, something still felt off. I opened my network manager app and checked the connection history. There was a new device listed: an iPhone 16 Plus. 2 My blood ran cold. Someone had been in our apartment. So why did Chloe lie? And if someone was here, how did they get past the smart lock without leaving a trace? I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, I went back down to the management office. The friendly guard with the canines wasn’t there; a different guard wearing glasses was at the desk. “Can you tell me if I’ve had any visitors recently?” My apartment is a full-floor residence, so checking the elevator security footage for my level is easy. The guard pulled up the recordings for the past two weeks. We watched the footage. Nothing. Not a single person got off on my floor. This was getting bizarre. Could the network manager app be bugged? I was distracted and unproductive all day at work. When I got home, I collapsed onto the sofa in a foul mood. Chloe came over, her hands behind her back, and snuggled up next to me with a grin. “What’s wrong, honey? Why the long face?” I frowned, about to push her away, but she suddenly revealed what she was hiding. A brand new phone. “Ta-da! I was going to wait for your birthday, but you’ve seemed so down lately, I decided to give it to you early!” My eyes went wide. I couldn’t believe it. It was the first new phone I’d ever owned since we got married. I always got Chloe’s hand-me-downs when she upgraded. Even though we could easily afford it, she was always frugal when it came to electronics. I was so happy I was speechless. “Is… is this really for me?” Chloe beamed. “Of course! My husband works so hard. You deserve a little reward, don’t you think?” She leaned in and planted a loud kiss on my cheek. A wave of euphoria washed over me, instantly followed by a pang of guilt. Damn it. My wife was so good to me, and here I was suspecting her of cheating. As for the router thing, it was probably just a neighbor piggybacking on our Wi-Fi. Or maybe the app was just glitchy. I tore off the plastic wrap and powered on the new phone. I wanted to transfer everything from my old one. But as I went to log in with my Apple ID, I saw that an account was already signed in. That was impossible. I had just broken the seal myself. How could it have been used before? Did Chloe get scammed? Did she buy a refurbished phone to save a few bucks? I stood up, ready to ask her what was going on. But then I stopped. Too many strange things had happened lately. Should I confront her now? I hesitated. A new, darker curiosity took hold. I wanted to know who the phone’s original owner was. I opened the photo album, hoping for a clue. There were two pictures. One was a blurry shot taken somewhere in our apartment complex. The other was taken inside my home. And in the corner of that second photo, there was a part of a man’s hand—tanned skin, long fingers. 3 Son of a bitch. Chloe was cheating on me. Both photos were blurry, probably taken by accident when the screen was touched. She was using my money to buy her lover a phone, and now she was giving me his hand-me-down. Chloe. You’ve got some nerve. We’d been together since college. All those years, and I had no idea when it had started. I worked my ass off, spending two-thirds of the year on the road, all so I could give her a good life. And this whole time, she was making a fool of me. I shut the bedroom door, lit a cigarette, and took a long drag. Stay calm, I told myself. Just then, the door burst open. Chloe stood there, her hands on her hips. “Leo, are you smoking in the house again?” I stubbed out the cigarette and went to open the window. I was going to catch this bastard, and I was going to do it today. But I still couldn’t figure it out. How did they get in and out without triggering the smart lock? I searched online for security flaws with that model but came up empty. I turned back to Chloe and started rubbing her shoulders. “Sorry, work’s been a nightmare. I just needed one. I’m done.” She let out a haughty little “hmph” and walked away. I used to find that aloofness charming, like a feisty little kitten. Now I knew she was just trash. Alone again, I went to her side of the bed and opened the nightstand drawer. I counted the condoms. Two full boxes were missing. And tucked away in the back was a bottle of lube I’d never seen before. So they were having fun. That night, when she reached for me in bed, her hand tracing the line of my abs, I subtly shifted away. “I’m exhausted, honey. Big project review tomorrow. We should get some sleep.” Chloe huffed in annoyance and rolled over. The next day, I went to work as usual, but my eyes were glued to the network manager app on my phone. I was waiting for him. It didn’t take long. Shortly after I arrived at the office, the iPhone 16 Plus appeared on my network. Perfect. They waited until they knew I was at work. I grabbed my subordinate, Kevin. “Something’s come up at home. I have to step out. Call me if there’s an emergency.” “You got it, Leo!” he said. I floored it. The car’s speedometer needle was practically screaming. I turned a fifteen-minute drive into a five-minute blur. I parked the car and sprinted upstairs. When I burst into the apartment, I found Chloe in the kitchen, wearing an apron, humming as she cooked. She was always a homebody when she wasn’t traveling for an exhibition. She looked up, surprised. “You’re back? Did you forget something?” I ignored her and stormed through the apartment, ripping open closets, checking behind curtains, looking under the bed, even scanning the balconies. Nothing. Besides Chloe, the apartment was empty. “Where is he?” I demanded. “The guy with the tan!” Chloe followed me into the bedroom, her face a mask of confusion. “What man? Leo, what’s gotten into you?” I took a deep breath, trying to control my rage. Where the hell could he have hidden? Chloe’s voice trembled. “Leo! What is going on?” I couldn’t keep up the act anymore. I shot her a look of pure ice. But she just put on a gentle, concerned expression and began setting the table with the food she’d prepared. “Is work that stressful? Look how worked up you are. Since you’re here, you might as well eat. I made your favorite, braised pork.” “I’m not hungry,” I grunted. “Too much going on at the office.” That food wasn’t for me. Chloe was obsessive about her figure. When I was away, she lived on salads and protein shakes. The braised pork was definitely for someone else. I turned and headed for the management office again. “I need to see today’s security footage for my floor.” It was the guard with the canine teeth again. He nodded and pulled up the feed. We watched it twice. The only person who used the elevator on my floor was me, leaving in the morning and returning just now. Not a single other soul. Was her lover a damn ghost?

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My husband, Robert, took our five-year-old daughter, Lily, to a client dinner with Ava, the woman he’d always loved. During the dinner, he sent Lily out alone to a pharmacy to buy allergy medicine for Ava. While crossing an intersection, our daughter was hit by a speeding motorcycle and thrown dozens of feet. The hospital called me. When I arrived, Lily was still clutching the box of allergy medicine in her tiny hand. With her last ounce of strength, she whispered, “Mommy, Auntie Ava… medicine…” After she closed her eyes, her hand fell limp, and the box of pills clattered to the floor. My world shattered. I called Robert dozens of times before he finally picked up. But before I could scream at him, his voice cut through the line, sharp and angry. “I sent Lily to get the medicine, where is she? Call her and hurry her up, Ava’s waiting!” He hung up before I could speak. When I tried to call back, I found he had blocked my number. Fine. In that case, your precious Ava can join my daughter in the grave. 1 I spent the entire next day making arrangements for my daughter. The hospital staff looked at me with eyes full of pity. For a full forty-eight hours, there was not a single word from my daughter’s father. A decade of love, gone in an instant. I didn’t eat or drink. I just printed the divorce papers and waited. I waited all day for him to come home. When he finally walked through the door, his first words to me were: “Where’s the medicine I told you to have Lily bring? Did she take a detour to the moon? Do you have any idea she put Ava in the hospital for two days?” A cold, bitter laugh threatened to escape my lips. She took a detour to heaven, actually. He yanked off his jacket with an air of profound irritation and threw it on the sofa. The scent of a woman’s perfume I didn’t recognize assaulted my senses. I wrinkled my nose and reflexively took an allergy pill from the drawer. He saw the movement, his eyes narrowing. “What are you trying to pull?” he snapped. “Ava has an alcohol allergy, so you have to copy her? If she’s in the hospital, why aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Where’s Lily? Get her out here right now to apologize to Ava! It’s a testament to Ava’s kindness that she isn’t blaming her. She’s covered in a rash and still defending your daughter! Look at how you’ve spoiled that child.” “I’m going to teach her a lesson today!” I forced down the inferno raging in my chest and slapped the divorce papers down on the coffee table in front of him. “Sign them. You don’t need to trouble my daughter anymore. You have no right to discipline her. I’ll get out of your way.” My words ignited his fury. He stomped on the papers, grinding them into a mangled pulp under his shoe. “Your daughter did something wrong, and now you’re throwing a tantrum? Just because Ava is forgiving doesn’t mean I’ll continue to indulge Lily’s behavior!” he roared. “I try to discipline my own child and you want a divorce? Are you insane?” Every word was a hammer blow, turning my heart to bloody ruin. I shot to my feet, the world turning black for a moment. I steadied myself, my voice shaking with restrained violence. “Discipline her? What exactly did my daughter do wrong? What heinous crime did she commit that required you, her father, to send her out alone at night to buy medicine? Do you have any idea what happened to her on the way—” “Oh, for God’s sake, are you ever going to shut up?” Robert cut me off, his voice laced with venom. “What’s the big deal? I sent her to buy medicine. The streets are full of people, what could possibly happen? Did she run to you crying again? Why is she so coddled!” He roughly pulled a small, gift-wrapped box from his suit pocket and slammed it down in front of me. “Is this enough to shut you up? Now get Lily out here. I’ll talk to her myself. From now on, when I discipline her, you stay out of it!” Looking at his face, I suddenly realized there was no point in telling him about Lily. He didn’t care. He only cared if his precious Ava had been slighted, if my daughter had inconvenienced her in any way. With that realization, a mocking smile spread across my face. I reached for the perfume box and opened it. It was the same scent that clung to his jacket. He couldn’t even be bothered to come up with a separate gesture for me; he just bought two of whatever he got for Ava, like tossing a coin to a beggar. Every perfume on the market contains alcohol. I’m severely allergic to it; I’ve never been able to wear any. But Ava, who so famously claimed to share my allergy, adored perfume. He had never been interested enough to notice the contradiction, and he certainly wouldn’t waste his time trying to understand. There was a time when any gift from him, no matter how small, would fill me with joy. Because I loved him. So I valued everything he gave me. Perhaps that was why he thought my love was so cheap. So cheap that he could trample my daughter’s life into the dirt without a second thought. The thought of Lily made my eyes burn. “Just sign the papers,” I said, my voice flat. “Lily will never bother you again. My daughter doesn’t need anyone’s forgiveness. She did nothing wrong.” Her only mistake was being born into this family. My stubbornness made his face darken. “Are you done? I gave you a gift, what more do you want? Our daughter is this old and now you want a divorce? I’m warning you, if we divorce, you can forget about getting custody of Lily!” “I’ve been too good to you,” he spat. “You don’t know what’s good for you.” Having vented his spleen, he turned and stormed off toward the bedroom. This was the first time in ten years I had ever been cold to him. He probably thought it was just another one of my jealous fits. He’d take a nap, wake up to find dinner waiting, and our cold war would end as it always did. But this time, it wasn’t the cold war I wanted to end. It was us. I left the keys and the signed papers on the table and walked out of the home I had lived in for five years. 2 I had a crush on Robert for five years, and we were married for five more. For our relationship to begin, my mother paid with her life. For it to end, my daughter paid with hers. My mother was the housekeeper for the Hayes family. She took care of Robert’s mother for half her life, a model of diligence and devotion. The Hayes family adored her, giving her a raise almost every year. One day, she was accompanying Mrs. Hayes on a shopping trip when they were attacked by a kidnapper—a businessman driven to desperation after being ruined in a deal. He wanted to hold Mrs. Hayes for ransom. My mother didn’t hesitate. She threw herself at him. The kidnapper, stunned that an old woman would dare to intervene, panicked and pulled a knife. My mother fought with all her remaining strength, managing to delay him just long enough for the police to arrive. Mrs. Hayes was safe. The kidnapper was arrested. Only my mother was left, bleeding out on the pavement. Mrs. Hayes, pale with shock, knelt by her side, talking to her, begging her to hold on until the ambulance arrived. But my mother knew her time was short. With her last breath, she thought of me, her only daughter. She knew I had feelings for Robert, and so she made her final request to Mrs. Hayes. Mrs. Hayes was taken aback. She knew Robert had his own great love, Ava. But as she watched the life drain from my mother, as the hand she was holding grew weaker and weaker, she made a promise through her tears. Just before my mother passed, she swore that I would marry into the Hayes family. My mother died in peace. While making her funeral arrangements, everyone tried to console me. I had lost my mother, but I had secured a lifetime of wealth and comfort. No one knew that I would have rather been alone for the rest of my life than lose my mom. My father died when I was young; she was all I had. She never knew how much she meant to me. On my wedding day, Mrs. Hayes held my hand, her voice choked with sobs. “Your mother can finally rest easy…” My eyes were vacant, my face ashen. But thinking of my mother’s dying wish, I nodded resolutely. Robert was the perfect gentleman in front of our guests. For a moment, I allowed myself to believe I had found my partner for life. But after the wedding, when we were finally alone, he leaned in close, his voice a cold whisper in my ear. “You traded your mother’s life for this wedding. Are you satisfied now?” “I don’t love you,” he continued, “but I will honor my mother’s promise. I will play the part. In this play, I am your husband. Offstage, my heart belongs to another.” He was true to his word. In public, he gave me all the respect and dignity befitting Mrs. Hayes. But our marriage was a hollow shell, a truth only I had to live with. The day our daughter was born, he didn’t smile once. He just looked at me and said, “Now my debt is paid. My mother’s debt is paid.” I thought that as Lily grew, his heart might eventually find its way home. How foolish I was. After Lily was born, the only one trapped was me. A marriage bought with one life, now ended by another. 3 After leaving that house, I took my daughter’s ashes and moved back into the cramped old apartment my mom and I used to share. It took three days of waiting in line just to secure a burial plot. Finally, the day of the interment arrived. I had just opened my door when someone kicked it open, sending me sprawling to the floor. The urn nearly slipped from my grasp. I looked up into Robert’s furious eyes. His precious Ava stood behind him, flanked by bodyguards, her face hidden behind a white mask. Before I could react, Robert stepped over me and stormed into the apartment, bellowing Lily’s name. He kicked open every door, but found no sign of a small child. His patience evaporated. He strode back to me, squatted down, and grabbed me by the collar. “Where is she?” he snarled. “Get her out here!” Seeing his face, twisted with rage, my grip on the urn tightened. “I told you, you don’t have the right to even say her name! Now take your mistress and get out of my home!” My words fanned the flames of his anger. His gaze was a poisoned dagger. “Watch your mouth, or I’ll be happy to teach you some manners! You coached our daughter to do something this vicious, and when I want her to apologize, you try to stop me? Have I been too lenient with you?” My blood ran cold. A terrible premonition washed over me. “What did Lily do? I’m here now, don’t you dare try to pin anything on my daughter!” I had thought, for a fleeting, foolish moment, that he had heard about the accident and had come to mourn with me. Reality slapped me across the face once again. Seeing us argue, Ava slowly approached. She pulled down her mask, revealing a face covered in an angry red rash. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked pleadingly at Robert. “It’s okay, Robert. Maybe the child didn’t know what it was. She didn’t mean to give me an allergic reaction…” Her words only made Robert angrier. “Ava, stop defending that little brat! Clara coached her to ruin your face, and your indulgence is only going to make her worse!” I stared at him, my expression a mask of disbelief. “Robert, that is your daughter! What are you saying? What are you going to do to your own child for this… this whore?!” My daughter was gone, and this woman still wouldn’t leave her in peace. Robert’s hand shot out, and the crack of his palm against my cheek echoed in the hallway. The stinging pain ripped away the last of my self-control. “I told you to watch your mouth!” he roared. “Your mother died, was there no one left to teach you how to speak?” “You coached Lily to pour a whole bottle of rubbing alcohol into Ava’s face cream! You know she’s allergic! How could you be so malicious? And now you’re trying to use a five-year-old as your accomplice? What kind of mother are you?” His accusation finally broke me. “She’s five years old!” I shrieked. “How would she even know what rubbing alcohol is? Besides, the smell is so strong, anyone with a nose would have noticed it! It evaporates! How could anyone possibly put that on their face? Robert, have you lost your mind in your quest for revenge for her?!” I screamed until my throat was raw, trying to expel five years of misery. But Robert’s voice was louder. “The only person who went into Ava’s room was Lily! We don’t even have a maid! Who else could it have been?” he bellowed. “It’s all on the security camera, crystal clear, and you’re still trying to deny it? Once I’ve spoken to Lily, I’m turning you over to the police!” “Enough of this nonsense. Bring Lily out. Now!” 4 “The camera?” I gritted out. “Show it to me. I will not let anyone slander my daughter!” Robert furiously tapped his phone and threw it at me. On the screen, a small figure in a dress identical to the one Lily was wearing on the day of the accident, her face obscured by a fisherman’s hat, tiptoed into a bedroom. She stood at a vanity, took a small bottle from her bag, and poured its contents into a jar of face cream. The video ended there. The timestamp was from two days ago. By then, Lily had already been cremated. A cold, mirthless laugh escaped me, and tears streamed down my face. Ava chose that moment to speak. “Clara, I just want to understand why she did this to me. I don’t mean anything else by it. A child can still be taught right from wrong. You can’t encourage her to do these things.” Hearing her so brazenly frame my dead child, I scrambled to my feet and spat in her rash-covered face. “Don’t you dare talk about my daughter! You have no right! You come here with your fabricated evidence without even knowing who was in that video? Is that how desperate you are to become Mrs. Hayes?” My defiance was the final straw. Robert’s rage exploded. He kicked me hard in the stomach. A cry of pain escaped me as my hands went slack. The urn slipped from my grasp and crashed to the floor. The lid popped off, and as the urn rolled, the ashes—a stark, heartbreaking grey against the concrete—spilled across the floor. For a moment, all pain vanished. My world narrowed to that patch of grey dust. A raw, animalistic scream tore from my throat. Ignoring the agony in my stomach, I fell to my knees, trying to shield the ashes with my body. Robert jerked his chin at the bodyguards. One on each side, they hauled me to my feet. My eyes remained fixed on my daughter’s scattered remains. My mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. “Where is our daughter?” Robert’s voice was a low, menacing growl. “Speak. This is your last chance.” I didn’t hear him. I was frozen, trapped in a waking nightmare. He nodded slowly. “Fine. You won’t talk? You like ruining people’s faces, is that it?” He took a bottle of medical-grade alcohol from one of the bodyguards and poured it onto the floor, turning my daughter’s ashes into a grey slurry. He bent down, scooped up a handful, and brutally smeared it across my face. The cold shock made me tremble. He ground the mixture into my skin with more force. “I’m giving you a facial, on the house. Do you like it? Speak! I asked you a question!” The alcohol hit the raw skin on my cheek where he had slapped me. Pain, sharp and blinding, contorted my features. My screams echoed in the dilapidated hallway. “You want a divorce? You’ve got it!” Robert yelled over my cries. “And you can forget about ever seeing Lily again!” He wiped his hands on a bodyguard’s sleeve and took out his phone. “Get the police,” he barked into the phone to his assistant. “I want them to tear this city apart to find my daughter. And get our lawyers to draft the divorce papers. I want full custody.” There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. Then, the assistant’s voice, small and timid, trickled through the speaker. “Mr. Hayes… your daughter… she’s passed away. She was cremated… It was the same night you and Ms. Vance were at that dinner. The cause of death was a motorcycle collision.” “Because I couldn’t reach you, I took the liberty of helping Mrs. Hayes arrange for a burial plot. Today… today was supposed to be the interment…”

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Troy Partridge’s department, notoriously short on women, had just accepted two new female grad students. He told me they were neck and neck in terms of skill, but their personalities were night and day. One afternoon, the quiet, reserved one, Nina Croft, worked up the courage to drop a hint. “Professor Partridge and Lexi Morgan… they spend a lot of time in his office. And the door is always locked.” Lexi. The other student. Just last weekend, I’d bumped into her and her boyfriend. She’d grinned and chirped, “Hi, Mrs. Partridge!” Later, she would come to me in tears. “Mrs. Partridge, you’re the only one who can help me…” 1 “Mrs. Partridge! Fancy seeing you here.” I’d run into them at the mall—Lexi and her boyfriend, one of Troy’s students. I offered a polite smile. The young couple was holding hands, looking every bit in love. Noticing my gaze, Lexi leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Please, Mrs. Partridge, you have to keep this a secret for me. The professor would be so mad if he found out.” My brow furrowed. “He gets involved in things like that?” She nodded, her eyes wide with a practiced sort of sorrow. The memory faded, and I looked down at the files on my desk—the profiles of Troy’s two new students. Lexi Morgan came from a wealthy family, her personality as bright and outgoing as her pedigree. Nina Croft was her opposite in every way. Her hint today was clearly a calculated move, born from self-preservation. After all, if a mentor was having an affair with a student, it would inevitably lead to favoritism, a gross injustice to those who were genuinely working their tails off. And for Nina, who had clawed her way out of a small, struggling town, the stakes were impossibly high. That’s why she’d risked telling me. But Troy… would he really do something like that? After all our years together, I couldn’t imagine it. I just couldn’t. That evening, I got a friend request on my social media. It was Lexi. Hi Mrs. Partridge, it’s Lexi! Professor Partridge is in a meeting. He asked me to tell you he won’t be home tonight. A knot formed in my stomach. Is everything okay? A massive data set from one of the major experiments was corrupted. Months of work down the drain. [Crying emoji] Troy didn’t come home for three straight days. When he finally called, I learned the full story. It was Nina’s data that had been flawed, an error she hadn’t caught in time, forcing them to scrap the entire experiment and start over. “I swear,” he sighed into the phone, “women in this field… such a headache.” His voice was more weary than angry, with an almost… indulgent edge to it. Then, a new message from Lexi popped up: Mrs. Partridge, the professor is furious. He had the student who messed up in his office for hours this afternoon, just tearing into her. Please try to cheer him up when you see him. I really don’t want to get held back a year! I wasn’t one for deep conversations with near-strangers, so I simply replied, You’re all working so hard. When Troy finally came home that night, the exhaustion was etched onto his face, though it couldn’t quite dull the sharp intellect in his eyes. He saw me and flashed his usual smile, warm and reassuring. “Trapped in that lab for three days. I’m dead on my feet.” He pulled me into his arms, letting out a long sigh. “It’s good to be home.” “I made you some restorative broth. Drink it, then get some real sleep.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Thank you, my love.” Just then, another message from Lexi. Mrs. Partridge, is the professor feeling any better? We’re all dreading his thunder face tomorrow. I chuckled, showing the phone to Troy. “Your student is quite the character. She’s been messaging me all day, asking about your mood.” He rolled over, his voice already thick with sleep. “She’s the loudest one in the entire lab. Just ignore her.” I typed back a quick reply. He’s fine, don’t worry. Lexi: Yay! 2 The next day, I made a call. Then I headed to the university, a box of freshly baked pastries in hand. The department’s break room was buzzing with activity. “Nina, please, for the love of God, don’t mess up again. Look at these dark circles!” “Yeah, my girlfriend is starting to think I’m ghosting her.” “I’m so sorry, everyone. It was my fault. The professor already chewed me out for it. I promise it will never happen again.” “Alright, you guys, lay off,” Lexi chimed in, defending her. “Give Nina a break. She feels terrible. Let’s just focus on getting this done together.” As she finished, she turned and her eyes lit up when she saw me. “Mrs. Partridge! You’re here! Did you bring the professor another treat?” I smiled and nodded. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” Nina mumbled a quiet “Hello, Mrs. Partridge” along with the others before slipping out of the room. A moment later, she returned, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Troy. “Let me guess,” Troy said, taking my hand. “Pastries today?” One of the male students, mouth full, let out a dramatic groan. “Hey! I just started eating, how am I already full from all this sweetness?” “Oh, shut up and eat. Not even this much sugar can shut your mouth.” Amid the playful banter of the students, Nina stood silently to the side, not touching a thing. She seemed out of place. “Why aren’t you having any?” I asked her gently. Her eyes flickered toward Troy for a split second. “Oh, she has a sensitive stomach,” Troy answered for her, almost reflexively. “She can’t handle things that are too sweet.” I paused, taken aback. “Nina, you can’t eat sweets? Well, in that case, I’ll just have to take yours!” Lexi chirped, already reaching for the pastry. She seemed to be enjoying them immensely. A week later, the call I’d been waiting for came. “Elara, we found something…” There was a little dessert shop on the cafe strip near the university. Lexi was a frequent customer. And the trash can in Troy’s office often contained packaging from that very shop. The dates almost always lined up with Lexi’s purchases. I pictured her smiling face, the one that called me Mrs. Partridge without a hint of shame. Was she that good of an actress? To face me without a single crack in her facade? Before bed, I was scrolling through my social feed. A new post from Lexi’s boyfriend: One more year of grinding. Two diplomas, one finish line. The picture was of their intertwined hands. “I heard,” I said casually to Troy, “that you’ve been telling your students not to date?” He let out a soft laugh. “I don’t have that much time on my hands. I just advised the two women in my lab to try and focus on their studies. This field is already tougher for them, and a relationship is bound to be a distraction. I’m just looking out for them.” “A little sexist, don’t you think?” I teased. “Not at all. Women are forces of nature. Look at you, a queen in the boardroom, while I’m just stuck staring at tedious experiments and endless lines of code.” After undergrad, we’d chosen completely different paths. Troy stayed in academia, climbing the ladder from masters to PhD. I went out and started my own company. Those early days of supporting each other, while not exactly impoverished, were a defining chapter of our lives. During Troy’s toughest stretch, my company had just started to find its footing. For two years, I covered all of his living and academic expenses. Now, we were both successful in our own right, our love supposedly as strong as ever. If only Nina hadn’t planted that seed of doubt. The dean of the department fell ill, and I went to the hospital to visit him. As I rounded a corner in the hallway, I heard familiar voices. “Professor Partridge really babies Lexi and Nina, doesn’t he? Hours-long tutoring sessions, giving them second and third author credits on the last paper… How come we don’t get that kind of treatment?” “I think he favors Lexi more.” “Well, yeah. She knows how to talk, how to suck up. She’s always bringing him those fancy desserts.” “Honestly, I think the professor is pretty calculating. Nina’s from a nobody town, so when she makes a tiny mistake, he lectures her for hours. Last time, she was in his office for two solid hours. When she came out, her eyes were all red and puffy.” “It wasn’t a tiny mistake, though, was it? She messes up all the time. I was actually surprised she got second author credit.” Listening to their gossip, a thought flashed through my mind, too quick to grasp. After a brief chat with the dean, I drove straight to the university. Just as I reached the lab, Lexi came out to throw something away. “Mrs. Partridge… are you here to see the professor?” Her usual bubbly energy was gone, replaced by a disconnected, hollow look. 3 “Lexi, are you not feeling well?” I asked, concerned. She forced a weak smile and shook her head. “You might have to wait a bit. The professor and Nina are in his office, working on a report.” “Why are you here all by yourself?” She sighed heavily. “Everyone else went to the hospital to see the dean. The professor told me and Nina to stay behind and fix the corrupted data. But…” Understanding dawned on me. “He made you do it all by yourself?” Lexi bit her lip and nodded. “Nina and I are a team. The professor said her background is… difficult, and that I should look out for her. But it’s not easy for me either! Why do I always have to take the fall for her mistakes?” She quickly added, “I’m just venting, Mrs. Partridge. Please don’t tell the professor I said any of this.” Either my ability to read people had completely failed me, or she was a world-class actress. There wasn’t a flicker of deception in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t. How long have they been in there?” “Over an hour.” My thoughts were a tangled mess. I changed the subject. “That little bakery on the cafe strip seems popular. Have you tried it?” At the mention of food, Lexi’s eyes brightened, some of the gloom lifting from her face. “Oh my god, yes! It’s amazing. Especially the matcha mille crepe—it’s sweet but not too rich. I’ve seen the professor buying stuff from there a lot, too.” That fleeting thought returned, crystal clear this time. “Really? He’s never mentioned it. When I brought those pastries the other day, I had no idea your classmate couldn’t eat them. I feel terrible. I’ll bring something different for you all next time.” Lexi frowned. “That’s weird. I’ve known her for ages and I never knew that. Besides, I buy her stuff from there all the time and she’s never said no.” “You mean, you often bring her treats?” “Yeah. I thought she loved them.” My heart sank. I pictured Troy and Nina walking into the break room together that day. I hadn’t noticed it then, but thinking back, they had been standing incredibly close, a natural, unthinking proximity. It wasn’t until dusk that the office door finally opened. Only Nina came out. Head down, she rushed forward and bumped right into me, letting out a startled shriek. “What’s wrong?” Troy’s voice, laced with anxiety, called out from the office. “Mrs. Partridge… it’s you. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking.” Nina’s voice was trembling. “Elara, what are you doing here?” Troy asked. As he saw me, his hand was already reaching for Nina’s arm, steadying her. He noticed my gaze and snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned. “I won’t disturb you. Goodbye, Professor. Mrs. Partridge.” Her small frame practically fled down the hall. Suddenly, everything made a sickening kind of sense. The silence in the car was heavy. Neither of us spoke. Troy’s expression was tense, a look I recognized. It was the face he made when dealing with a difficult problem. “Are the cakes from that bakery any good?” His hands, gripping the steering wheel, relaxed slightly. “You went?” “Not yet. Just passed by. I heard one of your students is a big fan.” Troy had already regained his usual composure. The tension I’d seen moments before might as well have been a figment of my imagination. “Lexi can be a bit… overeager. She knows I have a sweet tooth, so she’s tried to bribe me more than a few times. But I’m a professional, Elara. I would never give her second author credit just for a few pastries.” “And what about Nina? I hear you’re always giving her a hard time. You’re not picking on her just because she’s quiet and doesn’t know how to suck up to her mentor, are you?” Troy laughed, a genuinely amused sound. “I’m tailoring my approach to the student. But I’ll admit, mentoring women is more trouble than it’s worth. Always on the verge of tears.” He sighed. “I’m not accepting any more female students after this. These two are enough of a headache.” “Oh?” I asked, feigning interest. “Which one is the crybaby?” “Who else? The one who makes the most noise. Probably a spoiled little princess at home. I’m not about to coddle her.” He was talking about Lexi. 4 Back home, after my shower, I urged Troy to take his. I watched as he plugged his phone in to charge, then unplugged it and took it with him into the bathroom. What a coincidence. I was scrolling through a forum online when I saw a question: For those who start with a significant disadvantage in life, is it wrong to take a shortcut? The top-voted answer read: If a shortcut presents itself to you, consider it fate. The unfairness of your starting point will be balanced out somewhere along the way. Before I met him, I never imagined that a single look could save me years of struggle… All you have to do is work hard, and destiny will favor you in the most unexpected ways. Keep fighting. I posted a reply: OP, it sounds like you have an incredible story. Would you mind sharing? Stressed-out grad student here in need of some inspiration. Waiting eagerly! Ten minutes later, she responded. Thanks for asking. I come from one of the poorest towns in the country, a true rock-bottom starting point. But I fought my way through every obstacle to get into a master’s program, and that’s where I met my guardian angel—my mentor. Because of my background, I’m naturally slower than others. Things my peers master in one try take me three or four. A student who drags everyone down like me should be despised by their mentor, but he’s different. And of course, I am different, too… I’ve been given so many opportunities for private coaching. He says that when he looks at me, he sees his younger self, and he wants to give me the chances he never had. You can call it a shortcut, but I call it proof that opportunity only comes to those who are prepared. Reading that, my earlier suspicions solidified into a cold, hard certainty that chilled me to the bone. Troy was sleeping with his student, Nina. And he was using Lexi as a smokescreen. Nina’s “warning” to me hadn’t been a warning at all. It was a vicious, calculated move—the real culprit pointing the finger at an innocent person. I had no idea how far they had gone. When Troy came out of the bathroom and tried to wrap his arms around me, a wave of physical revulsion washed over me. “What’s wrong?” His voice was husky, tinged with desire. “I don’t feel well. Let’s just go to sleep.” A few days later, a scandal erupted at Northwood University. A student had allegedly tried to seduce her mentor, an “academic siren” trying to sleep her way to the top. The mentor himself had reported her, and she was now facing a university investigation. The online posts mentioned the detail about the desserts. In a flash of insight, I understood everything. I immediately checked Lexi’s social media. Her profile was wiped clean, a blank slate. I called Troy to ask what was happening. “Elara, listen to me, and please don’t be angry. It was Lexi. She… she tried to seduce me. The shamelessness of it! I had my suspicions before, and I tried to give her chances to back off, but…” I fought the urge to call out his lies right then and there. After I hung up, I got a friend request. It was Nina. Mrs. Partridge, what I told you before was true! But the professor didn’t betray you. It was Lexi who was chasing him, relentlessly. This time she went too far, and he couldn’t protect her as a student anymore. He had to report her, even though it pained him. Is there any proof of this? The professor said so himself. Don’t you believe him? I didn’t reply. My mind was racing, trying to figure out what I could do, but it was all a chaotic blur. Outside, a storm was brewing. The doorbell rang. Soaking wet, Lexi stood on my doorstep. The moment she saw me, the tears started to fall. “Mrs. Partridge… I didn’t do it… it wasn’t me… Please believe me, help me… please, it really wasn’t me…” Her eyes were wild, her words a jumbled, desperate plea. Once I got her settled with a warm mug of tea, her hands were still trembling. “It’s okay, Lexi. Take a deep breath. Tell me exactly what happened.” Her gaze flickered with fresh terror. “Professor Partridge… and Nina… they were in his office. They were… kissing. That’s all I saw. “The professor told me that if I kept my mouth shut, I would graduate without any problems. “I promised, I really did. I was too scared to say anything. “But just a day later, Troy reported me. And the witness he brought forward… was Nina.”

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The day I was discharged from the hospital, my depression finally in remission, I waited at the entrance for hours. It was nearly midnight when the message from Lucas Sterling finally came through. Something urgent came up at the firm. Don’t wait up, just head home. A moment later, I saw the new post on Bethany Reed’s Instagram. It was a photo of Lucas, sleeves rolled up, patiently changing a lightbulb for her. The caption read: For all the hard things in life, I’m so lucky to have you. My breath caught in my throat. I tapped the ‘like’ button and quietly called a cab. When I got home, I was surprised to find Lucas already there, looking like he’d rushed back. He saw me and immediately grabbed my hands, his voice tight with anxiety. “Don’t overthink it, Mia. She’s just an old friend. I was just helping her out.” I nodded, playing the part of the compliant girlfriend he expected. But his brow only furrowed deeper. He hesitated, then asked, “…Mia? What’s wrong?” I just shook my head, my gaze fixed on the ugly, layered scars that covered my wrists. Nothing was wrong. I was just… done loving him. … The room fell silent for a long moment. Finally, Lucas let out a sigh, reining in his temper to coax me. “Mia, please don’t be like this.” “It was nothing. I didn’t do anything with her, I just helped her with something small.” “I already promised you I wouldn’t cross any lines with Bethany again. Don’t fixate on one little thing.” He finished and moved to wrap his arms around me, but I took a silent step back, avoiding his touch. A muscle in his jaw twitched. His patience finally snapped, his voice rising. “What the hell do you want from me?!” I flinched, a sudden fog of tears blurring my vision. He seemed to realize he’d gone too far, a flash of regret in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to blame you—” “I want to break up.” My voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through his words. “What?” Lucas stared at me, then pressed his fingers to his temples as if fighting off a massive headache. “Can you not do this again? Don’t threaten to break up every time we have a problem.” “It’s always this, Mia. I’m so tired.” “Yes, I know. I cheated on you before. I was with Bethany, and it was wrong, it hurt you. But I’ve changed, haven’t I? Haven’t I been good enough to you these past months?” “Just because I made one mistake, you’re going to torture me like this forever?!” There it was again. I couldn’t look at him. The air in the room felt like it was turning to thick, black water, ready to pull me under. A wave of terror washed over me, and for a horrifying second, I felt the urge to drop to my knees and beg for his forgiveness. But I held my ground, repeating the words. “I want to break up.” Crash! He slammed his water glass onto the floor, and it shattered into a thousand pieces. “Aah!” I screamed, dropping into a crouch and wrapping my arms over my head, trembling uncontrollably. “I’m sorry… please don’t hit me… I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Lucas loomed over me, his voice dripping with scorn. “There you go again. Faking it.” “Mia, have I been too good to you lately? Did that make you think you could control me with these pathetic little acts?!” I couldn’t process his words. The rising volume of his voice just sent fresh waves of panic through me, and I scrambled away from him like a cornered animal. The look in his eyes hardened into disappointment. “Fine.” “Calm yourself down. When you’re ready to be rational, we can talk.” I don’t know when he left. By the time the storm in my body subsided, the sun was streaming through the windows. Slowly, I packed a bag and walked out. I passed a few neighbors on my way out. They gave me those familiar, pitying looks, and as I walked away, I could hear their hushed whispers. “What’s going on now? Another tantrum?” “You don’t think they’re actually breaking up, do you? I don’t get it. They fight every single day. Why are they even still together?” “She can’t let go, probably. Who could, in her position?” “That man doesn’t love her. If it were me, I would have walked away a long time ago.” They were right. I should have walked away a long time ago. I paused and looked back at the apartment complex, now small in the distance. I couldn’t stop the hot, heavy tears that finally fell. Ten years of this. I had cried, I had raged, I had lost my mind. I had trampled on every last shred of my dignity until I was nothing more than a joke. Lucas Sterling, I’m finally done loving you. I was eighteen when I got together with Lucas. I had just been accepted into the country’s top art academy, my future a bright, shining path. Then the call came from home. My father was addicted to gambling and had racked up an insurmountable debt. With my back against the wall, I dropped out of school and started working as a cocktail waitress in a high-end club. That’s when Lucas appeared. He was thoughtful, a gentleman, handsome and well-mannered, like a prince from a fairytale. He was so good to me. He paid off my father’s debts and had him transferred to a private hospital after the loan sharks beat him so badly he was paralyzed. He remembered my cycle, brewing me ginger tea whenever I had cramps. When I couldn’t sleep, he would hold me all night, whispering stories until I drifted off. Falling in love with him was inevitable. After we got together, everyone said I wasn’t good enough for him. They’d laugh, their contempt barely veiled. “She’s just some cheap cocktail waitress. Does she really think she’s pulled off a Cinderella story?” “Haha, everyone in this town knows Lucas is just playing with her.” “Just wait until she comes back…” A cold knot would form in my stomach. I never let myself listen to the end. Of course, I knew I didn’t deserve him. Our worlds were galaxies apart. But I loved him, and because of that, I missed my chance to walk away when I should have. From that love, the thorny branches of insecurity began to grow. I never dared to ask him who “she” was. Instead, I’d joke around, asking if he loved me. He would never answer. He would just look at me, his dark eyes seeming to see right through me, to a place I couldn’t follow. My anxiety grew. Eventually, I heard the name: Bethany Reed. She was his first love, the one that got away. They said we looked alike. That I was just her replacement. The realization was like being plunged into ice water. It all made sense. The tender way he looked at me—he wasn’t seeing me at all. He was looking at someone else. I completely lost my temper. I stormed into Sterling Corp and demanded an explanation. But he was patient, pulling me into his arms and hushing me softly. “It’s all just rumors. Why are you so upset?” “Yes, Bethany and I were together, but that was a long time ago, Mia.” “She came back to the country yesterday. If I still loved her, if you were just a substitute, why wouldn’t I just break up with you and be with her?” I believed his lies. For a little while, I even felt a flicker of confidence. But I couldn’t shake my curiosity. One day, I was working a catering gig and learned that the famous concert pianist performing was Bethany Reed. I snuck a look. She was beautiful. Dressed in a flowing white gown, her long, slender fingers danced across the piano keys. The spotlight caught her from the side, making her glow like a princess. The self-loathing was a tidal wave, and it threatened to drown me. I turned and fled, but I didn’t get far before someone grabbed my arm. It was one of the women who was infatuated with Lucas. She looked at me with a sneer. “Well, look who it is.” “Here to cause a scene?” “So you know you’re the stand-in, and now you’re getting desperate? Look at yourself. You really think you’re fit for the Sterling family? How pathetic.” All eyes were on me. Their jeers wove into a net, trapping me. I couldn’t breathe. But then Lucas was there, alerted by the commotion. He didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around me, shielding me from their stares, and then he tore into the women who had been taunting me. In the middle of that noisy hall, his voice rang out, clear and strong. “Mia Collins is my girlfriend. You have a problem with her, you have a problem with me.” I drew a universe of security from those words. From that moment on, I pushed every doubt aside and forgot all about being a substitute. We had three wonderful years together. On our wedding day, Bethany sent a tasteful gift with her best wishes. When she spoke to Lucas, she was warm and poised, like any old friend. Watching the elegant profile of her face, I felt a pang of guilt, certain that I had wronged her with my petty insecurities. I went home that night, happy, planning what I could get her as an apology gift. I wanted to discuss it with Lucas. I pushed open our bedroom door and froze. He and Bethany were tangled together, their clothes in disarray. On our wedding bed.

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When my husband asked for a divorce, his mistress was already showing. That night, working late and alone, I couldn’t stop myself from wailing like a banshee for my dead marriage. Unexpectedly, my caterwauling caught the attention of the CEO. He appeared, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, carrying a container of still-warm shrimp dumplings. His eyes were surprisingly gentle. It was the dead of night. A man and a woman, all alone. In a moment of self-destructive abandon, I thought, Well, winter is coming. Time to give my husband a taste of his own medicine. But then the CEO handed me a tissue and, after a bit of awkward preamble, I finally understood. He wasn’t interested in me. He was interested in my scumbag husband. My sobs died in my throat. My mind started racing. My husband with another woman? I lose my appetite. My husband with another man? Hell, I’d even pop some popcorn and watch them cook. 1 The only sound in the empty office was me, howling and sniffling. Every time I thought about the divorce papers, a bitter knot tightened in my chest. They say there’s a seven-year itch. Mine got restless in five. He had a case of the wanderlust so bad even a prescription-strength cream couldn’t cure it. Yes, my husband, Mark, had found a mistress. Her name was Lily, and with a bun in the oven, she was planning on leveraging that pregnancy for all it was worth. And Mark, my dear husband, was dead set on divorcing me to marry her. All in the name of “following his heart and giving his child a proper family.” What a load of crap. Wasn’t it “true love” when he married me, too? Sure, our passion had thinned to the consistency of tissue paper over the years, but we were a financial unit. I figured we could coast for a few more years. Unfortunately, that paper had finally torn. And my grand life plan of coasting on my husband’s salary had crashed and burned right along with it. Life had been sweet with access to two paychecks. Now, with our assets split, how long could a “lazy freeloader” like me last? My fine-tuned skills of leisure would turn a mountain of gold into a molehill in no time. At that thought, a fresh wave of sobs escaped me. Between wails, I mentally cursed my heartless boss. My own career was already on life support. Just last week, he’d ripped my latest project proposal to shreds, metaphorically dumping a bucket of pig’s blood on my head. It was like he’d sprinkled industrial-grade chili powder on my already wounded soul. “What’s with all the crying? It’s the middle of the night.” A deep, slightly impatient male voice sounded from above me. I jolted, looking up with a start. Through my tear-blurred vision, I saw him: my boss, standing right beside my desk. In his hand was a takeout container with the logo of “Silver Palace”—my favorite place for dumplings. He placed the container on my desk. “Eat something. Stop crying.” I choked back a sob and opened the box. A cloud of steam and the savory scent of shrimp dumplings rose to meet me, which only made the tears flow faster. As I nibbled on a dumpling, I snuck glances at him. Uriah Thorne was the company’s founder. Young, brilliant, and utterly ruthless. In our industry, he was known as the Devil Incarnate. He was usually stricter with us than a wicked stepfather. What was happening tonight? Not only was he not scolding me for disrupting the office’s pristine silence, but he’d brought me food? Could it be… he saw that my marriage was failing, that I was vulnerable… and he wanted to take advantage? A quid pro quo situation? The thought was so shocking it startled me. But then again… was it really so bad? Mark had already cheated on me. Why shouldn’t I return the favor? Just as my internal drama reached the climax where Uriah and I teamed up to crush Mark, forcing him and his mistress to their knees to beg for mercy, my boss’s cold voice cut through my fantasy. “That woman, Lily. She’s the one who wrecked your marriage?” I choked on my dumpling and nodded miserably. “I hear she’s basically taking a dump on your head?” It was crude, but coming from him, it sounded like a strange, cold form of empathy. I nodded again, more forcefully this time. “I see,” he said slowly, his long fingers tapping a rhythm on my desk. “So, do you want to… take a bigger one on hers?” I…!!! The half-chewed dumpling nearly shot out of my mouth. What? Did I hear him right? My boss was so offended on my behalf that he was going to personally step in and help me get revenge? Revenge was all I needed to hear! I dropped my chopsticks, my eyes wide. “Yes! Absolutely! A massive one, boss! Super-sized, with extra toppings!” 2 A second later, he delivered the punchline. “I want your husband. You help me get him, and you’ll get back at the mistress. It’s a win-win.” His words hit me like a lightning strike. My eyes widened, my mouth hanging open. “What? You… you want to get my husband… into your… bed?” I wondered if I’d cried so hard I was hallucinating. Or maybe my boss had eaten one too many expired snacks. “Mr. Thorne… are you feeling alright?” There wasn’t a trace of embarrassment on his face. Instead, he shifted into full-on business negotiation mode. “I’m perfectly fine. And perfectly clear. Also, for the record, I’m a top.” I… That was too much information. My brain was overheating. Ignoring my petrified state, he strode over to the office whiteboard and expertly drew a mind map. “Let’s conduct a rational analysis of your current situation.” On the board, a logic diagram with “Mark” at its center took shape. “First, the marriage. The mistress is five months pregnant, and your husband is resolute. This divorce is happening. It’s just a matter of when and how much you get.” “Second, your financial status. Even with a 50/50 split of the condo and one car each, your monthly salary is $3,500 after taxes. Subtract your $500 car payment, and you’re left with $3,000. Given the cost of living in this city, assuming no major illnesses, no new clothes, and zero entertainment, you’ll be barely surviving.” The cold, hard numbers were a slap in the face. I could already picture myself eating instant noodles and living on the poverty line. “Therefore,” he concluded, “if you refuse my proposal, you’re not just facing a personal life collapse, but likely unemployment. With my influence in this industry, it would not be difficult to ensure you don’t find a suitable job for some time. At which point, you won’t even have that $3,500 to fall back on.” I sucked in a sharp breath. This was a threat, plain and simple. “However,” his tone shifted, dangling the bait, “if you choose to cooperate, we become allies. Our goals are aligned. I get the man I want, and you… you get your dignity back.” I cut him off. “Wait! Dignity? Boss, is dignity all I get?” After that brutal financial analysis, my priorities were crystal clear. He seemed to have anticipated this. “Of course not. When this is done, I’ll give you a one-million-dollar bonus.” “One million dollars?!” I grabbed the calculator from my desk, my fingers trembling as I punched in the numbers: 1,000,000 ÷ 3,500 ÷ 12 ≈ 23.8. That was almost twenty-four years of my current salary! Paid in advance! He continued, sweetening the deal. “In addition, I’ll have the company’s top project director personally mentor you. You’ll gain new skills and become an essential part of the team in the shortest possible time. Which means, even without the million, you’ll be able to build a very comfortable life for yourself.” Oh, my God. This wasn’t kicking me while I was down. This was a winning lottery ticket falling from the heavens. A Michelin-starred, solid gold lottery ticket. He must really, really be in love… with my husband. So in love that he’d resort to threats and bribery, personally crafting a “husband-snatching” strategy. The scales in my mind tipped dramatically. Mark’s betrayal, Lily’s arrogance, my bleak future… compared to the very real pile of money, career advancement, and this bizarre but promising new path? They were nothing. He cheated on me with a woman. So what was wrong with me introducing him to a powerful, successful man? It was perfectly reasonable! This was a public service! I was helping him explore new, exciting horizons! “Boss,” I declared, my voice ringing with newfound purpose. “From this day forward, I am your dedicated strategist. I will do everything in my power to… uh… clear the way for you to secure your target!” Uriah Thorne looked at my impassioned face and gave a slight, satisfied nod. “Excellent. A pleasure doing business with you.” 3 First things first, we had to handle the divorce. Mark arrived with Lily attached to his arm like a permanent accessory. Her slightly rounded belly was her badge of honor. I tried to keep my voice steady, even a little nostalgic. “Mark, do you remember when we first moved in here? We didn’t even have a proper table. We ate instant noodles sitting on cardboard boxes, and you promised you’d give me a good life one day…” I slowly recounted the memories we’d shared, my eyes locked on his face, searching for any flicker of emotion. If he had even an ounce of heart left, a shred of guilt, then maybe… maybe my plans would have been different. Maybe his… assets… could have been spared. But I was disappointed. His eyes were filled with nothing but impatience. He cut me off. “Let’s not talk about the past. I’m here to discuss the terms of the divorce.” The tiny, flickering flame of hope in my heart sputtered and died. Fine. This just made what I had to do next that much easier. I lowered my head, my shoulders trembling slightly, my eyes red-rimmed. “Okay, I get it. I was hoping for too much. But you’re the one who wronged me, aren’t you?” “Look, I’m up for a promotion at work, and my boss puts a lot of stock in his employees having stable family lives. The company’s annual gala is next week. Mark, for old times’ sake, can you do me one last favor and come with me? Just show your face. If you do that, I’ll sign the papers the very next day. No more fighting.” This combination of retreat, vulnerability, and mutual benefit made Mark hesitate. But Lily was on high alert. “No way!” she snapped. “Who knows what you’re planning! What if you try to get back with him?” Her eyes darted around, and she came up with an even crueler demand. “If you want him to go, fine. But you have to give back all the designer bags and jewelry Mark ever bought you! Consider it a security deposit on your character!” I put on a show of distress. “But those were gifts! He gave them to me! They’re mine!” “Gave them? Or you wheedled them out of him?” The standoff was tense. My chest heaved with manufactured rage. “I need to use the restroom to calm down!” As soon as I locked the bathroom door, I whipped out my phone. “Boss, the mistress is demanding I give back all the luxury items Mark bought me before she’ll let him attend the gala. I’m refusing, we’re at a stalemate.” Uriah replied almost instantly: “How much are they worth?” I thought for a moment. “Probably around $30,000.” My phone buzzed. A bank notification: an incoming transfer of $50,000. Another message from Uriah followed: “Stop wasting time. Stick to the plan.” Seeing that number, a wave of calm washed over me. I rubbed my eyes in the mirror until they were satisfyingly red, then walked back out with an expression of pained resignation. “I’ve thought it over. I’m serious about becoming an independent woman. These material things… I don’t need them!” Under Lily’s suspicious and Mark’s surprised gazes, I opened my safe and piled the designer bags and jewelry boxes on the bed. “It’s all here.” Lily inspected the items like a pawnbroker, a triumphant smirk spreading across her face once she confirmed they were real. “Since you’re being so sensible, Mark, I guess you can go with her.” Then she turned to Mark, her voice dripping with possessiveness. “But during the gala, you have to reply to my texts instantly! And video call me to show me where you are and who you’re with! You hear me?” Mark nodded eagerly, the picture of obedience. 4 The night before the gala, Uriah summoned me to his office. “What brand of cologne does Mark usually wear?” he asked. I blinked, caught off guard. “…Terre d’Hermès. He’s worn it for years.” “And his drink of choice?” “Single malt scotch. He thinks it’s masculine.” As I answered, I couldn’t help but marvel at the level of detail in his research. His next questions were even more jaw-dropping. He quizzed me on everything from Mark’s preferred clothing style and hobbies all the way to the most intimate details of our… private life. Uriah asked the questions without a flicker of emotion, a true scholar in his field. I gritted my teeth and reported the facts as objectively as I could. When it was over, I couldn’t resist asking. “Boss, if you don’t mind my asking… what is it you see in him?” Uriah slowly lit a cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled a plume of smoke. “The front may be used,” he said calmly, “but the back is brand new.” I… Rich people, I swear. They have a special kind of audacity. He didn’t just not see me as a woman. He didn’t even see me as a person. He flicked some ash into an ashtray. “Liking someone is a feeling. A vibe. If it feels right, it’s right. You wouldn’t understand.” I certainly did not. But for the money and my career, I chose to respect the boss’s vibe. After the interrogation, he called the project director into his office. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll be mentoring her personally. I want her up to speed in the shortest time possible.” I was ecstatic. My career was about to take off! The night of the gala went exactly as planned. Under the guise of “mingling with the common folk,” Uriah sat at the table with Mark and me. He had toned down his usual Devil Incarnate aura and was the picture of a charming, attentive gentleman. He was witty, knowledgeable, and could talk to Mark about everything from macroeconomics to football. Mark, initially reserved, quickly loosened up under Uriah’s calculated flattery. The two of them were soon chatting away like old friends. But the pleasant atmosphere didn’t last. Lily’s check-in texts started arriving like clockwork, every fifteen minutes, the vibration of Mark’s phone a constant, nagging reminder. Uriah’s brow furrowed in annoyance. He discreetly sent me a transfer under the table. My phone buzzed. A peer-to-peer payment of $2,000. The note read: Make her stop. I got the message. I slipped away and sent Lily a short video of the two men talking, then called her, my voice a low threat. “My boss is very impressed with Mark and is discussing a potential partnership. This is directly tied to my promotion and his performance bonus. If you keep this up and piss off my boss, I swear, I will not sign those divorce papers. I will drag this out until you both rot.” She cursed me out, but as I’d hoped, she stopped bothering Mark. Because she started bombarding me instead. Washed-up hag. Scheming bitch. You deserve to be dumped. The messages were vile, one after another. I was shaking with rage. The wine I’d been drinking churned in my stomach. Why? Why did they get to be so self-righteous about their affair while I, the victim, had to endure this humiliation? A dark impulse took over. While Uriah had Mark’s attention again, my hand “slipped,” and I tipped a small packet of powder into Mark’s drink. He didn’t notice a thing, laughing with Uriah as he drained the glass. Not long after, Mark’s eyes glazed over, and he slumped back in his chair. Uriah immediately feigned concern. “Mr. Stevens, are you feeling alright? You’ve had a bit too much to drink. Our company has a corporate suite at this hotel. Why don’t you stay the night? The company will cover it.” A woozy Mark had no objections, and I played my part. “Thank you, boss.” Uriah helped Mark to his feet, and I followed them out. As we neared the suite, Uriah gave me a look that screamed Get lost. I understood. I got lost.

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My boyfriend was perfect. He listened to everything I said, spoiled me like a princess. The day I was going to propose to him, I saw him cheating with my own eyes. I screamed at the other girl. But then everyone around me said the same thing: I was the other woman. 1 For three years, Larry was my rock. He was gentle, devoted, and catered to my every whim. I spent six months planning the perfect, fairy-tale proposal. I pictured him blindfolded, stepping into the room I’d so carefully decorated. I imagined the tears of joy welling in his eyes when he saw it all. He would pull me into a fierce hug and kiss my forehead with all the love in the world. The anticipation was killing me. I couldn’t wait any longer, so I changed the plan. Without telling a soul, I drove to his office building. I had to tell him, right then and there, about the tidal wave of love I felt for him. I got there early, before he was done with work, and settled in my car to wait. My heart was hammering against my ribs with excitement. I clutched the ring I’d designed myself, our initials engraved on the inner band. My knuckles were white, and my palms grew damp with anticipation. After what felt like an eternity, I finally saw him emerge from the building. I was just about to open the door and surprise him when I froze. A girl bounced up behind him. She stood on her tiptoes, playfully covered his eyes, and whispered something in his ear. I couldn’t hear her words, but I saw what happened next. A soft smile bloomed on Larry’s face. He gently pulled her hands away, turned, and brushed a soft kiss against her lips. The girl jumped, a blush instantly coloring her cheeks. She glanced around nervously, and only when she was sure no one was watching did she seem to relax. Then she playfully tapped him on the chest. Larry wrapped his arms around her, his eyes filled with a look of pure adoration I had never seen before. He leaned in, and right there in front of his office, they shared a deep, sweet kiss. A handsome man and a beautiful woman. If the man hadn’t been my boyfriend, I might have applauded the romantic scene. My mind flashed back to the time I was sick, and Larry stayed by my side, never leaving for a second. The time I craved a specific cupcake, and he drove three hours just to get it for me. He even remembered my parents’ birthdays, carefully picking out gifts and letting me give them as my own. The memories flickered through my mind like a slideshow. How could the feeling of being loved have been so real, only for the betrayal to be this sharp? My fists clenched, my whole body trembling. The sharp edge of the diamond on the ring dug into my finger, drawing blood. The pain snapped me back to reality. If all that love was just a lie, then this was a betrayal I would not tolerate. 2 I threw the car door open and marched toward them. Without a word, I shoved them apart. My hand swung, connecting with Larry’s cheek in a sharp crack. “You bastard!” “Ah!” the girl shrieked, but she immediately stepped in front of Larry. She shielded him like a mother hen protecting her chick. “Who are you? What gives you the right to hit my boyfriend?” she demanded after checking to make sure Larry was okay. I ignored her, my eyes locked on Larry. He finally seemed to register what was happening. His gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet mine. “Let’s just go,” he muttered, grabbing the girl’s hand to leave. I let out a cold, bitter laugh. The coward. He had the guts to cheat but not to face me? I blocked their path. Seeing that I wasn’t backing down, the girl lost her patience. She shoved me hard. “What is wrong with you? If you’re sick, go to a hospital! Stop harassing my boyfriend!” The shove sent me stumbling in my high heels, but it was her words that sent my mind into a chaotic spiral. “Look at you, always crying! It’s no wonder our daughter is the way she is!” “You have the nerve to blame me? Weren’t you the one who cheated first? That woman showed up at our door with her kid, and you still dare to blame me?” “How many times do I have to tell you? She’s my friend’s widow! He died, she had nowhere to go. Was I wrong to take care of her and her son?” “Ha, ‘take care of them’? Took care of them right into your bed, did you? Mark, you have no conscience! If it wasn’t for me networking for you, raising our child, would you have been able to build your business? Now that you’re successful, you go out and cheat?” “Keep your voice down! Our daughter is already unstable, are you trying to push her over the edge?” “So her mental illness is my fault? MY FAULT?!” The jarring voices mixed with the sound of shattering porcelain, raging inside my head. Mark… that was my father’s name. But weren’t he and my mother the perfect couple, the envy of all their friends? My head was splitting. My body started to shake, and my breath came in short, ragged gasps. Through the fog, I heard Larry’s frantic voice. “She has severe depression! You can’t agitate her!” Who is he cursing? You’re the one who’s sick. The world went black, and I collapsed. 3 When I opened my eyes, the world was a stark, clinical white. The familiar, stinging scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. For a moment, I was disoriented, with a strange, frantic energy buzzing under my skin. I turned my head with a frown and saw Larry sitting by my bed. His eyes were bloodshot, but they lit up when he saw I was awake. He immediately poured me a glass of water, his movements as careful and attentive as always. But I felt none of the old comfort. It just made me sick. I swatted his hand away, knocking the glass to the floor. CRASH! It shattered on the tile, water splashing everywhere. Larry scrambled to pick up the pieces, but my control was already gone. I ripped the blankets off and stood up, my bare feet pressing into the sharp shards of glass. Blood bloomed on the floor, but I felt nothing. I grabbed the fruit basket from the nightstand, the vase of flowers, anything I could reach, and hurled it all at him. “You bastard!” I screamed. “How could you cheat on me? What did I ever do to you to deserve this?” “I was going to propose to you! I was going to make you my entire world!” “But you’re just a piece of trash! You don’t deserve it!” At my words, Larry’s head shot up, his eyes wide with shock. He seemed stunned that my feelings for him ran so deep. To be honest, so was I. My other memories were fuzzy, but everything about Larry was crystal clear. We met in college and fell in love instantly. Graduation didn’t tear us apart; it made us stronger. We had just bought our first house together. And now, at the moment I loved and needed him most, he had betrayed me. The thought made me dizzy, fueling my rage. I lunged at him, clawing and hitting, my palms stinging against his face, each blow a fresh wave of pain in my own heart. My parents rushed in, their faces etched with horror. They hurried to pull me off Larry, then formed a protective circle around him, as if I were the monster. Tears streamed down my mother’s face. “Mia, please, calm down,” she begged. “Please, sweetie, get better. Mommy can’t stand to see you like this.” My father tugged on her sleeve. “She’s not listening,” he said grimly. “Press the call button. Get a doctor.” My mother tearfully pressed the button, her eyes filled with a sorrow that I couldn’t understand. I was still glaring at Larry, my mind a blank haze of fury. Just then, Larry’s best friend burst into the room, with the girl from the office right behind him. He marched straight up to me, his eyes cold. He grabbed my wrist. “Mia, stop this madness! Larry and Chloe are the real couple. You’re the other woman!”

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The year I turned seven, my sister and I were playing hide-and-seek when the earthquake hit. My parents pulled me from the rubble first. But the rescue teams searched for three days and three nights, and they never found where my sister was hiding. My parents, their eyes red-rimmed and raw, demanded to know where she was. I could only stare back, numb and helpless, whispering, “I don’t know… I don’t know where Lily was hiding…” After that day, my parents, who had always treated me like a princess, never smiled at me again. This time, they were going to the site of the ruins to honor Lily’s memory. When I simply said I wanted to go with them, my mother broke down again. “Get out!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “It’s all your fault! You and your stupid game of hide-and-seek killed your sister! You wanted to hide so badly? Fine! Get in!” She grabbed me, her fingers digging into my arms, and shoved me into a large suitcase. But she forgot. It was a combination-lock suitcase. Once it clicked shut, I couldn’t push it open from the inside… 1 I curled up obediently, squeezing my body into the cramped, dark space of the suitcase. Over the years, I’d gotten used to it. The suitcase had become my secret base. Whenever Mom’s grief boiled over and she started smashing things on the table, Dad would just give me a look, and I knew what to do. I’d climb in, pull the zipper shut, and pretend I couldn’t hear a thing. Just like hide-and-seek, I started counting, silently preparing to count to ten thousand, ten times over. But this time, I didn’t finish. My limbs, twisted for so long, grew stiff and numb. My knees were pressed so hard against my chest that I could barely breathe. The stale air was thick and heavy. I clawed at the small gap near the zipper, but it wouldn’t budge. “Did you pack all of Lily’s things in the case? I’ll put it in the car.” Dad’s voice. A spark of hope ignited in me. I thought, I’ll apologize, I’ll beg him to let me out. But then the world tilted violently. I felt the suitcase being lifted, then flipped upside down. My body was hanging by my feet, the blood rushing to my head. The feeling of suffocation was immediate and overwhelming. I instinctively thrashed, pounding my small fists against the inside of the case. But the lining was too thick, and I was too weak. The desperate gasps that escaped my lips were swallowed by the sound of my parents’ voices. “The spiritual advisor said we have to burn it all,” Dad said, his voice heavy. “Her spirit is trapped. If we don’t send her things with her, she can’t move on.” “Don’t you talk to me about that!” Mom’s voice was a sharp, jagged thing. “Isn’t this all because of Ella?! She’s the one who killed Lily!” “If she hadn’t dragged Lily into that stupid game, would we at least have a body? My Lily… we couldn’t even give her a proper burial…” Her voice trailed off into a choked sob, each word weighted with an unbearable pain. My throat closed up. No sound would come out. Lily’s death was an arrow lodged in our family’s heart, its tip fused with flesh and bone. Inside the suffocating darkness, the air grew thin and foul. My head felt thick, my consciousness fading. In a daze, I thought I saw a little girl standing far away, calling out to me in a cheerful voice. “Ella! Let’s play hide-and-seek! I’m going to hide now!” I froze. It was like muscle memory. My knees gave out, and I collapsed. “No,” I whimpered. “No more hide-and-seek… I’m sorry, Lily. It’s my fault. I’m the one who killed you…” The apology I had rehearsed a thousand times in my head while locked in this suitcase came out as a jumbled, incoherent mess. What I really wanted to say was, If I could, I would trade my life for hers. Just like Mom prayed for, over and over again. When I looked up again, my soul was somehow floating outside the suitcase. It wasn’t Lily I saw in front of me, but my mother, her expression vacant. She was staring into space, muttering to herself. “Do we really have to burn it all? Lily’s things… her clothes, the doll I made for her… I dug them out of the rubble with my own hands…” Her expression shifted, the sorrow twisting into a deep, consuming hatred. “It’s all because of Ella. Lily is dead and can’t even rest in peace because of her. Don’t you think she was sent by God to punish me?” She believed what the advisor had said—that a soul needs a complete body for a proper burial, and because of me, Lily’s spirit was trapped, unable to be reborn. Dad’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. He turned his head, his face a landscape of fatigue and wrinkles, his eyes sunken. Even his voice was drained of life. “It’s been so long. Like the advisor said, Lily needs to go where she belongs. And the living… we have to move on.” He gave a bitter smile. “We can have another child. A family of three. A fresh start.” His tone was so casual, but the words made my soul tremble. A family of three. Without me. I was the thorn in my parents’ hearts they were desperate to pull out. I had always known. My face, so similar to my sister’s, was a constant, painful reminder of the life I carried on my shoulders—hers. That’s why, a few days ago, I had secretly visited several orphanages, mustering the courage to ask the directors if they took in new children. But now, looking at my own transparent body, I thought, this is better. If I’m dead, my parents won’t have to see me and feel that pain. Maybe then, in their hearts, my sin could finally fade a little. 2 The closer the car got to our old neighborhood, the more violently my mother’s body trembled. Nearly five years had passed since the earthquake. Most of the area had been rebuilt with new high-rises, but the block where our house used to stand was still a field of ruins and scarred earth. I could still remember that day, my parents clawing at the rubble like mad animals, ignoring the stones that tore their hands to ribbons, their fingers dripping with blood. “Lily loved BBQ chips. I bought a few extra bags,” Dad said, pulling the snacks from the trunk. “And some chocolate milk, too.” He carefully arranged them on a flat piece of concrete. Mom’s eyes were already swimming with tears. When Dad lifted the suitcase from the car, she lunged for it, but he held her back. “Please, just let me look one more time…” she pleaded, her voice breaking. Dad’s brow furrowed, his eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and pity. He placed his hand on the combination lock, hesitating. My non-existent heart was in my throat. Will they find out? Will they realize they took the wrong suitcase? That inside isn’t their daughter’s belongings, but their other daughter’s body? “Looking will only make it harder to let go,” Dad sighed. “Let’s not open it. It’s time to let the past be the past.” But Mom didn’t pull her hand away. As they stood in a silent standoff, Dad’s phone rang. He answered it. It was our housekeeper, Mrs. Davis, her voice frantic. “Mr. Sterling, I can’t find Ella anywhere! I don’t know where she’s hiding this time!” Mom snatched the phone from his hand, her rage instantly ignited. “Why are you even looking for her? She does this on purpose, making trouble for us on a day like this. Mrs. Davis, you lock her bedroom door. Let her hide until she rots.” A flash of irritation crossed Dad’s face as well. He told the housekeeper not to worry about it and hung up without another word. “She’s clever, that one,” Mom sneered. “Does she think if she stays out of my sight, I’ll forgive her?” The air grew heavy with unspoken resentment. Dad didn’t say anything, silently preparing to start the fire. But the flames of hatred in my mother’s eyes burned hotter and hotter. “It’s all Ella’s fault!” she spat. “It’s because of her that I can’t even keep these last few things of Lily’s. We were so good to her! How could she be so cruel? Tricking her sister into hiding during an earthquake… Now Lily is dead and can’t even be reborn. Did she hate her that much?” She hissed the words through gritted teeth, her eyes blazing. I had heard this tirade countless times. I knew my mother’s pain was a bottomless pit, and she needed somewhere to pour it. I looked at my father. The flicker of pity he’d shown for me earlier was gone, replaced by a dull, numb expression. Because of me, he’d lost his youngest daughter. Because of me, his wife suffered from a severe mental illness. Dad was a lawyer; logic and reason were the pillars of his life. But years of relentless grief had eroded those pillars. He couldn’t look at me without seeing everything he had lost. There was a time, when Mom hurt me, that he would secretly slip me candy while I was hiding in the closet. He’d lean against the door and whisper apologies. “Ella, Mommy is just sick right now. Just hide a little longer. I know it’s not fair to you.” But later, he started drinking heavily in secret. He would grab me and demand to know why, why did I have to play hide-and-seek with Lily? And then, later still, he stopped caring when Mom hit me. He would lock my door and forget to bring me food for an entire day. And now, he just said quietly, “Yes. After we send Lily off, I’ll send the child to live with her grandparents. Then… we can start over.” As if I were a piece of trash to be disposed of. My heart seemed to skip a beat. I wanted to smile, to be happy for them. They were finally escaping the nightmare, finally finding the courage to start again. But the flames in front of me were already leaping, eager to consume the last trace of my existence. My empty chest ached. Mom was clutching Lily’s little teddy bear, her expression lost. I let my soul drift into the stuffed animal, imagining I was back in her arms. A long-forgotten warmth enveloped me. I remembered when they first pulled me from the rubble. Before I could even see my surroundings, Mom had pulled me into a hug. But that last shred of warmth was shattered by a single slap, the moment I uttered the words “hide-and-seek.” 3 The fire roared to life. Dad gently took the teddy bear from my mother’s arms and tossed it into the flames. Mom’s face went deathly pale. She turned, stared at the suitcase, and then stumbled forward, throwing her arms around it. “Please,” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “Just let me stay with Lily a little longer.” Dad’s expression was a mask of tormented conflict. A wave of guilt washed over me. If they found my body in here, they would be so disgusted, so angry. My death would ruin Lily’s chance to move on. My spirit swirled around them in a panic. But I could only watch as Dad pried the suitcase from her grasp and, with a look of grim determination, kicked it into the heart of the fire. The flames crackled and hissed. “Wait! That’s not Lily’s suitcase!” Mom suddenly shrieked. Her hand trembled as she pointed at the burning case. “Lily loved pink stickers. Her suitcase had a Hello Kitty sticker on it.” Dad froze, confused. “That’s Ella’s suitcase!” I tensed, my soul vibrating with anxiety. I thought she was about to remember—that she had locked me inside, that I had never gotten out. But her next words were spat out with a familiar, venomous rage. “Weren’t you watching when you packed? How could you use Ella’s filthy suitcase for Lily’s things?! Lily will be so angry if we send her this!” Dad was stunned. I was, too. So that was it. She didn’t remember me at all. She just found the thought of my suitcase disgusting. “No, we can’t burn this disgusting thing for Lily…” Mom started scrambling toward the fire, completely frantic. Dad grabbed her, holding her back. He pulled her into his arms, trying to soothe her. “It’s okay, it’s okay, calm down. Don’t do this. It’s just a suitcase. It doesn’t matter, it won’t change anything.” He held her tight. The firelight illuminated her pale, wild-eyed face. She clamped a hand over her mouth and nose, looking like she was about to faint. Realizing how close she was to a complete breakdown, Dad’s gaze fell on my suitcase, his expression turning grim. He was probably cursing me, too. Cursing me for causing trouble even now. “That’s enough. Let’s go home,” he said, patting her back. He ignored the dying flames and quickly guided her back to the car. He gave her a pill, and once she was asleep, he sent a text message. [Thank you, Doctor. We’ve taken care of Lily’s things. Please, when the time is right, tell my wife that our daughter has been successfully reincarnated.] The reply came almost immediately. [Of course. I hope this therapy helps your wife move forward. Let’s schedule another appointment soon.] I finally understood. There was no spiritual advisor. It was all a carefully constructed act between my father and a psychologist to help my mother escape her nightmare. A brilliant plan. If it hadn’t been for me. I looked out the window at the smoldering suitcase that held my body and prayed that no one would ever find it. Let me rot in these ruins, I thought. Let me become fertilizer for my sister’s new life. But my hopes were in vain. When we got home, there were several people standing in our front yard. As Dad helped a groggy Mom out of the car, Mrs. Davis rushed forward, looking relieved. She pointed at my parents. “There, that’s Ella’s mother and father. They’re back. You can ask them.”

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I’d known Diana for fifteen years, and loved her for four. She promised we’d get married on graduation day. But on that day, she became someone else’s bride. I stormed into the wedding, demanding a reason. The man beside her looked at me, his face a mask of pain. “Ron, man… I have cancer. I’m dying. Diana is just… she’s helping me grant my only wish.” My Diana, my love, stared at me, her expression hard. “I’ll explain when this is over. Now is not the time for you to make a scene.” I laughed, wished them a long and happy life together, and walked away. 1 On the day of our university graduation, Diana vanished. My friends were giving me strange looks, like they were holding back words that burned on their tongues. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I called Diana’s phone again and again, each unanswered ring echoing in the hollow of my chest. Then, a text from a friend popped up on my screen. It was a forward, simple and brutal. She’s getting married. An address was attached. At first, I thought it was a joke, some elaborate graduation prank. But the closer I got to the venue, the more a chilling certainty settled over me. When I arrived, Diana’s friends saw me at the entrance, their faces paling in panic. “Ron… what are you doing here?” My voice trembled as I pointed toward the grand doors. “Who… whose wedding is this?” 2 Diana and I were the definition of childhood sweethearts. From kindergarten chatter to university cram sessions, we were inseparable, our lives woven together thread by thread. Our friendship blossomed into love so naturally, it felt like breathing. Everyone who saw us would smile and say we were a match made in heaven. I believed it with every fiber of my being. Diana was my destiny. She used to say our love story was already written in the stars, a gift from the universe delivered to me early, so I’d never have to be alone. Her words made my world spin with joy. Without Diana, my life would be a colorless void. I saw our future so clearly: walking down the aisle, hand in hand, growing old and gray together. Reality, however, was a sledgehammer. On graduation day, the very day she promised would be our wedding day, she was marrying another man. I shoved my way through the crowd, my world narrowing to a single point. And there she was. Dressed in a stunning white gown, Diana was breathtakingly beautiful, but she was on the arm of Caleb, clinking glasses with the guests. My heart felt like it was being ripped in two. She was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but the sight of her was a dagger in my soul. When she saw me, her face went ghostly white. A flash of panic and guilt crossed her eyes before Caleb cut in. “Ron, man… I have cancer. I’m dying,” he pleaded, his voice laced with a pathetic helplessness. “Marrying Diana was my dad’s only wish. She’s just helping me.” He made it sound like he was the victim, and I was the villain for even being there. Diana’s gaze turned cold, her voice firm and final. “This isn’t the time to argue. I’ll give you an explanation when this is over.” “Don’t bother.” A gaping hole tore open in my chest, the pain so immense I could barely breathe. I ripped the simple silver ring she’d given me—our promise ring—from my finger and hurled it out a nearby window. It was once a symbol of our forever; now, it was just a painful memory. I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the tremors in my voice to still. “I wish you a lifetime of happiness. May you have beautiful children.” Then, I turned my back and walked away. “Ron!” Diana called my name, starting to follow, but her steps faltered as Caleb erupted into a fit of violent coughing. A bitter, silent laugh escaped me. I didn’t look back. I just kept walking. She glanced frantically between Caleb and my retreating back. In the end, she chose to stay by his side. I walked out into the blinding sunlight, hot tears blurring the world into a kaleidoscope of pain. 3 As I was about to leave, Diana’s friends swarmed me, their words a useless, buzzing drone. “Ron, she has her reasons, don’t be mad at her.” “Ron, there’s nothing going on between her and Caleb, you have to believe…” “Yeah, Ron, just wait, let her explain.” I held up a hand, cutting them off. My gaze swept over their familiar, treacherous faces. A cold, hard laugh bubbled up inside me. They all knew. They had all been in on it, helping Diana lie to me for who knows how long. How pathetic. I’d known these people for years, yet when it mattered most, they chose her side, conspired to keep me in the dark. If I hadn’t shown up today, were they just going to let me keep playing the fool? Let me become the other man in my own relationship without even knowing it? “Don’t call me that ever again,” I said, my voice flat and empty. “We’re not that close. If we see each other again, let’s just pretend we’re strangers.” I slipped into a taxi. As I opened my bag, my eyes fell on the crisp envelope inside. An acceptance letter to a top international university. I was going to tell her today. Now, there was no point. 4 Looking back, the signs were all there. In the weeks leading up to graduation, Diana started coming home late, sometimes not at all. Our small apartment often felt empty, haunted by her absence. I rarely saw her on campus. Whenever I called, it was always noisy in the background. Her excuse was always the same: “Work is swamped. I’m just so busy.” She promised she’d make it up to me once this busy period was over. Now I know. She wasn’t busy with work. She was busy planning a wedding. That afternoon, I made an appointment to finalize my travel documents. By a cruel twist of fate, I ran into Maya, one of the few friends of Diana’s I hadn’t seen at the wedding. She looked at me, her expression a mix of pity and frustration. “Does Diana know you’re leaving?” I just shook my head. “Did you know she was getting married today?” Maya sighed, a heavy, weary sound. “I tried to talk her out of it. I told her you wouldn’t stand for this. But you know Diana, she’s too soft-hearted. That guy, Caleb, he’s been chasing her for years. She always shut him down, firmly. But then he showed up a while ago, told her he was sick, that he didn’t have long. His ‘dying wish’ was to marry her. She wrestled with it for ages, but in the end, her pity won.” Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. A wedding isn’t a game! You don’t just do it for someone. Did she even think about me? What did she think I was? A wedding is supposed to be one of the most sacred moments in a person’s life, and she’d used it to grant some other guy’s dying wish. She had betrayed not just me, but everything we had promised each other. Whatever her reasons, she gave something that was meant only for me to someone else. And that was a betrayal I couldn’t forgive. 5 The sharp edges of my heartbreak slowly dulled into a numb ache, as if even my sorrow had grown exhausted. “Are you sure about this?” Maya’s voice was soft beside me. “No second thoughts?” I nodded, my voice hard as stone. “No second thoughts. Let’s get this done.” After all the paperwork was finished, I closed my eyes, a wave of weariness washing over me. The world faded, my body felt weightless, and my mind drifted back to a hazy afternoon in my childhood. I remember coming home from kindergarten. The house was quiet, too quiet. Mom was sitting alone in the living room, one hand resting on her still-flat stomach, tears silently tracing paths down her cheeks. I ran to her, and she pulled me into a hug that felt both gentle and sad. “Ron,” she whispered, “let’s not have this baby brother or sister, okay?” I was confused. Just a few days earlier, she had told me with a radiant smile that I was going to be a big brother. This sudden change was a mystery to my young mind, but I trusted my mom, even when I didn’t understand. Then one day, she was gone. The next time I saw her, Dad was with her, looking defeated and exhausted. Mom tossed a phone at him, her eyes colder than I’d ever seen. “What are you doing back here? Weren’t you busy picking out a ring for your new girlfriend?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the warm memories of our family. “I’m not the type to make a scene. I’ve already had the divorce papers drawn up. We can end this right now. I’m taking Ron. After all, your mother never truly accepted him anyway.” Dad was crying, begging, but Mom had already lifted me onto our suitcase and was walking out the door. She leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Deceit, Ron, once it starts, it never stops. A crack can’t be mended to look new. I hope you find happiness, a person who loves you with their whole heart. But more importantly, I want you to be the one who knows best how to love yourself.” 6 Life as a single mom wasn’t easy, but she never let me feel the weight of it. Whenever she was tired or stressed, she would just stroke my cheek and say, “As long as I have you, I have all the strength I need.” Not having a dad around made me different. Some kids at school started whispering that I was the “son of a mistress,” and the whispers turned into taunts. Kids can be cruel; they repeated the poison they heard from adults and gave me nasty nicknames. I never fought back in front of the teachers, but I remembered every face. When I found one of them alone, I’d make sure they learned I wasn’t an easy target. But none of that mattered after I met Diana. I was hiding in a corner after a fight, dabbing at a cut on my lip, when she found me. She held out a bottle of antiseptic and some cotton swabs, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. “You’re so skinny. How do you hit so hard?” She cleaned my wounds so gently, I forgot all about the sting. Her smile was… it was everything. From that day on, whenever I got hurt, she was there to patch me up. We became inseparable. Through elementary and middle school, we were a unit. Mom started her own business and our lives got better. She saw the unspoken thing growing between me and Diana but never said a word. Our families grew close, too, all of us quietly watching our bond deepen, waiting for it to ripen into what it was always meant to be. 7 The summer after we graduated high school, Diana presented me with a simple silver ring. Her eyes, shining with a love so deep it stole my breath, met mine. “The day we graduate from university,” she promised, her voice a soft whisper, “we get married. Ron, I can’t wait to be your wife.” In that moment, cherry blossoms drifted around us like pink snow, a beautiful, fleeting illusion I could never recapture. I woke up with a start, realizing I’d fallen asleep in the waiting area. My cheeks were damp with tears. Maya was looking at me with concern, suggesting we go get a big meal. I shook my head. Right now, all I wanted was to go home to my mom. On the way, my luck ran out. I ran into the last two people I ever wanted to see. Diana was hovering over Caleb, fussing over him as if he were made of delicate glass. Our eyes met, and the air crackled with awkward tension. “What a coincidence, seeing you here,” Diana said, forcing a tight smile. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Looks like I’m interrupting something. My mistake, I’ll be on my way.” I turned to leave, but her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, a grip both gentle and firm. “Don’t misunderstand,” she said, her voice pleading. “I’m just here with Caleb for a check-up. He’s not feeling well.” I nodded slowly, carefully pulling my hand from her grasp. My voice was calm, distant. “Diana, you’re a married woman now. You should be careful about appearances. Let’s just delete each other’s contacts. It’s only fair to your husband.” I then turned to Caleb, my eyes narrowing slightly. “Right, Caleb? In a marriage, making your partner feel secure is the most important thing.” Caleb just flushed with embarrassment, clutching his chest and starting to cough again. But this time, Diana didn’t rush to his side. I gave them a small, cold smile and walked away. 8 Back at the apartment, I moved with a cold efficiency. I packed every single thing of Diana’s into boxes and left them by the door. Every gift she’d ever given me went into the trash. A headache throbbed behind my eyes as my phone buzzed relentlessly. I ignored it, blocking and deleting Diana from every app, every contact list, until it was as if she’d never existed in my digital world. It was seven in the evening when I got back to my mom’s house. She took one look at my pale face, said nothing, and just pulled me into a tight hug. She told me to get some rest. I spent the next three days in a fog, drifting in and out of a heavy, dreamless sleep. Dark thoughts flickered at the edges of my mind, but the clean, familiar scent of the linens on my bed, my mom’s scent, kept them at bay. On the fourth day, I finally had the strength to get out of bed. On the fifth day, Mom’s face lit up when she saw me. She brought me a bowl of warm chicken soup. I took a sip of water and looked at her. “Mom, Diana and I broke up.” Her smile froze. Her face was a canvas of confusion, but she kept her voice even, not wanting to pressure me. “She got married.” One sentence was all it took. Understanding, then a fiery anger, flashed in her eyes. She went into her room and returned with a small, velvet box. “Good,” she said, her voice firm. “You deserve better. But since it’s over, we should return what belongs to her family.” That’s when I learned the full story. Diana’s mother had adored me. She and my mom had already been talking, planning for us to get married right after graduation. Diana’s mom had even given my mom a family heirloom, a beautiful silver locket, as a clear sign that she saw me as her future son-in-law. But life had other plans. The sun was high in the sky when we arrived at Diana’s house. Her mom greeted me with a smile as bright as a flower, though her son, Leo, just shot me a dirty look and stalked off. Diana’s mom led me into the living room, where Diana and Caleb were already sitting. She was still blissfully unaware, grabbing both our hands. “What’s this, did you two plan to come back together? Now that you’ve graduated, have you thought about the next step? Like, maybe, a wedding?” She tried to place Diana’s hand in mine, but I pulled away instantly. A flicker of hurt crossed Diana’s face, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I looked at my mom, who knew exactly what I was thinking. Diana’s mother had always been so kind to me; I couldn’t bear to be the one to tell her. My mom spoke up for me. Diana shot to her feet, rushing toward me, her voice a desperate whisper. “Ron, it’s not what you think. Just give me some time, I’ll explain everything.”

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